Craving You

It would've been easier to blame this heatwave for my current dilemma, and granted it was partially the reason why I called you, but the truth was I was craving you. I spent too many sleepless nights tossing and turning, touching and rubbing, just thinking of you. I imagined how easily you could slip inside of me, pumping hard into me, the sound of our skin and friction only making my desire for you worsen. I wanted you the moment you showed up at my door, claiming not to recognize me, insisting you were only here to fix what was broken inside my home.

How could you not know our friendship was one of them?

You've pulled up into my driveway. I can see you from the bay window in my living room. There's confusion in your expression, as if you don't know the reason why you were here, in the middle of the night, when I could've waited until morning.

I didn't want anyone else to have you tonight. And I know you probably had someone waiting for you at home, or perhaps you're heading to some dive bar to unleash your burdens in between sips of liquid courage and you'd find some other woman to fuck and forget the world with. I hope you know, as soon as our eyes meet when I open that door, that I want to be the only woman worth forgetting the world with. That I never wanted to stop being that for you. Not even when I lied and claimed that I did all those years ago.

I didn't waste time covering myself up. You've already seen too much of me for me to shy away from your heated gaze. As soon as I open the door, your gaze pins my own then lowers down to the opened slit of my salmon pink silk robe. I'm completely bare underneath, and judging from the way you swallow hard and look away, you seem to appreciate that.

"I'm sorry for calling so late. But I can't sleep in this heat," I tell you, with only half the truth. I was merely a few minutes away from having you in my mouth, and you had no idea what kind of dirty deeds I have planned for you to do for me.

"Did the fuse blow out again?" you ask, completely dismissing the fact that my robe had opened slightly the moment you stepped into my home. I could hear you curse underneath your breath and I smirked. You're about to give in, I can feel it.

"I'm not sure. You know I've never been good with that stuff," I add and follow you down into the basement, where the fuse box stood right next to the washing machine and dryer. I watch you bring out a small flashlight from your pocket, and that's when I notice the bulge forming in the front of your shorts. My mouth waters as I step closer to you, and I watch you catch your breath before you slip away from me again. Frustration begins to fill me as soon as you place your hands into your pockets, as if you know where they might end up.

"I don't know what you're doing. But it should stop," you claim, clearing your throat as you try to fix the stubborn bulge growing larger in your pants. I laugh at your words and instead of fixing your current problem, you continue to stroke your cock. It reminds me of the night I caught you touching yourself in the treehouse in your backyard. We were fourteen, and completely enraged with hormones and confusing feelings. I had no idea you thought of me as something other than your best friend until I saw the picture you had of me in your hand that night, while you jerked yourself into an orgasm. I'd never seen such an erotic experience before that incident. Growing up with religious freaks like my parents, I never gave myself the permission I needed to achieve the same release you gave yourself in that moment.

I envied you, and the freedom men inherit without prejudice since the moment they're born. Women were different, ridiculed and often shunned by society the second they decided not to apologize for being just as sexually deviant as the opposite sex. You never cared that I was the preacher's daughter, that I had been a prude by default. And by the time we finally had somewhat a control of our feelings, our friendship had diminished into something else entirely. Something ugly, and unrecognizable. A feud I no longer wanted to be a part of.

"Now who's the prude?" I tease, resting my hands behind me against the washing machine. My robe opens even more, and your gaze immediately goes towards my exposed breasts, my nipples darting out for your attention. When you lick your lips, I know you want me just as badly as I've always wanted you.

"When did you get so...." you start, trying to find the words to describe how curvy I'd gotten over the years, and I only grin when I see you stop your strokes.

"Hey, I worked hard to shed the baby fat and put the rest of it in the right places." I continue and crane my head to the side as I observe you. You seem...nervous? I have no idea why. I'm sure you've seen other naked women before. Or was it just me that made your mind go into a frenzy?

"You never needed to change. You were beautiful then and even more so now."

"I'm glad you noticed."

"How could I not?" you ask huskily, as you step closer to me, stopping an inch away, making sure to corner me up against the washing machine. You didn't touch me, maybe you couldn't. Maybe the illusion of the perfect girl you once knew would be shattered the moment you decide to let yourself have what you've always wanted. What we've both always wanted.

I make the next move and slowly let my hands run down your chest, stopping at the dip in between your hips. You tip my chin up, nodding to give me permission to continue, and I swallow hard as I dip my hand inside your shorts. Your shaft is warm, thick, and heavy, pulsating against my hand as I start to stroke you. The moment my thumb rubs over the tip of your cock, you take in a breath and bury your head against my neck, placing soft kisses against the blazing skin. You grow harder in my hand as I begin to stroke faster, and I moan the second your mouth takes my nipple and begins to suckle on it until my knees grow weak with desire. I can feel how wet I'm getting for you and it's driving me mad. I need to have you inside me soon, my body wont take my procrastination much longer.

I get on my knees in front of you, tugging down your shorts and your briefs, and take a second to marvel at your manhood. It was throbbing in its current erect state and I look up at you as I take you into my mouth. Your fingers weave through my hair as you bite your lower lip and push yourself in deeper. When you curse my name, that's when I know I've gotten under your skin. So I continue to suck on your long and thick prick until you're ready to spill. You pull me off your cock before I make you come, then turn me around, bending me over the washing machine, turning it on before you lift up my robe and stroke my behind.

You spank it lightly at first, then tease my opening with the tip of your dick. When you reach between my legs with your fingers and rub circles against my clit, then continue to use my juices to place it on your cock before entering me, I lose what's left of my mind and bite down hard on my lip. Moaning louder with every thrust of your cock inside me, your hands grip my breasts, and your fingers begin to twist and pull at my nipples, wild and crippling desire consuming me, pooling at my core.

I hold on to your shoulders as you hoist me up against the washing machine and you resume your thrusting, plunging inside of me as the vibrations from the appliance below me made me feel everything ten times greater. Then again, you seemed to have that effect on me. Even now, years after we parted ways and grew into the messy adults that ran into each other again by chance a month ago.

I pull you closer, my nails scratching at your back as your thrusts slow down and I kiss you. I kick myself mentally, knowing well enough how addicting your lips could get. I'd gotten a bite out of that forbidden apple the summer before we stopped being friends. It was all I could think about, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss you a thousand more times, but the shame that had been bestowed upon me as kid had been ingrained into every fiber of my being. We grew up in completely different worlds, with completely different faiths. Had I known none of it mattered, I wouldn't have let you go.

Your lips break from mine, and your warm breath brushes against my skin as you pound into me. My inner walls bring you in as deep as they can inside of me, clamping and holding onto your shaft as your hands grip my hips and you come hard. My name is cursed more than enough times as you keep thrusting then pull out of me. Your tongue licks its way down my body, until your face nestles in between my legs. The tip of your tongue begins to stroke my clit fast, bringing me closer and closer to my climax. My legs wrap around around your shoulders as I grind myself onto your tongue and my body convulses into spikes of a mind-numbing orgasm. I squirt into your mouth, and your fingers dip inside of me, causing me to whimper from wanting more of this illicit feeling of euphoria. Your cock takes the place of your tongue and your fingers, and pipes into me fast and hard, both of us moaning loudly into the humid air as we both climax together.

You ravish my lips then and I picture how things might have turned out if I had just given myself to you the night you told me you've been in love with me forever. I thought we were too young to know and to feel the magnitude of those words back then, but now, I understood love was boundless. It had no age limit. No color. No religion. It was unapologetic and fearless, just like you and the feelings you've always provoked within me.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do this," you whisper into my ear, your fingers up to no good as they begin to tease my nipples again. I lick my lips and smile against your neck as your cock hardens again inside of me.

"I can't believe you're still hard after all of that," I tease as you slowly pump in and out of me once again.

"What can I say? I haven't had my fill of you just yet. And maybe I never will."