I’m counting the days until I get to see him again. Exactly a month now until we great each other with lust. Our first few days together, we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other. Last time we sat in his living room, watching TV as I curled on his lap in his leather chair. He slid his hands down my jeans and found my cunt, still swollen and dripping from the orgasms that preceded.

And he teased me.

He worked me up so close to the edge of orgasm, daring me to tip into oblivion. And then he stopped. I stopped watching the show while he remained engrossed in it. I moaned into his chest, begged him to make me come, my eyes glassed over and my voice small and distant. He ignored me. Starting and stopping. Varying the pressure on my clit. Sliding a finger in and quickly out until I was near tears. He stopped for a few minutes and when I regained my composure I rose to use the bathroom. He held me close, but as I pulled away he ordered me not to touch myself — not to make myself orgasm behind the locked door. He threatened me with something horrible. I almost wanted to masturbate, just to find out what he had in mind.

I returned and he resumed his torture, one hand sliding back under my panties and the other reaching up to rub my breasts, pinching my nipples and teasing the sensitive skin in the crease beneath them. My moans turned to begs and my eyes began to water. I nibbled on his shoulder and his chest and he rubbed me faster and harder.

The show ended and he led me into his bedroom. He tore off my pants and let them fall around my ankles. he pointed to the floor and I got on my knees, taking his rock hard dick deep into my mouth. Sucking enthusiastically and stealing a glance at the blissful look on his face. He looked down at me and pulled me to my feet, kissed me and turned me away from him, bending me over in front of the mirror and slowly sliding his cock into me.

I stood on my toes and grabbed my ankles, looking up every now and then to watch us in the mirror. I came hard and browned out, oblivious to his hot cum filling me up. He held me as he thrust into me those last few times, keeping me from collapsing and joining the puddles we’d left on his floor. He swept me up, cupped me in his arms and laid me on his bed in a twist, neatly placing an old pair of boxers where they could soak up our fluids.

I stirred a few minutes later to the feel of him stroking my back. I turned over, laid across his chest and smiled at him while he pulled me closer.

Oh, just another month.

2 Responses to “denial.”

  1. 1 Diana

    Desire and longing are very creative emotions. Good writing.

  2. I hope the month passes quickly.

    Lovely piece.

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