Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
It was a freezing July Canberra morning when the arrival of the text announced itself with a ‘bing’ on my phone. I casually looked down to see who it was from to have my stomach invert itself. There was that name on my screen – “Chris D”.
With a shaking hand I opened it.
“Hi Kate. Up for a conference on the weekend of the 17th. Fancy getting together?”
I could barely get my fingers to type properly as I pecked out a reply.
“Free all weekend. Love to.”
Chris! During this first year of my medical course I’d imposed on myself a bit of a man drought since returning to Canberra and breaking up with Wayne.
Apart from Greg, Chris had been the principle object of my fantasies since we’d spent a week making passionate love in my home town last Christmas before he’d gone home to Sydney. I’d resisted gently his suggestion we keep in regular contact. That wasn’t my style. But I’d left open the possibility of ‘dropping in’ if we were ever in each other’s town.
Chris had performed a different fantasy role from Greg. Those about Greg were more ethereal; they needed to stay within the boundaries of our long term friendship and Karen’s ownership of him. Those about Chris were more immediate, physical, passionate and consuming.
He’d been a virgin when we’d met and was anything but by the time he’d headed for home. While he’d been there my crutch had suffered a constant needy ache for him; there was just something about him that caused us to be mutually attracted to each other. By the time he left, the ache in my crutch had been more medical; one of excess and over-indulgence.
Two weeks after the text exchange and his follow-up call, dressed in one of the sexiest most revealing outfits in my wardrobe, I found myself walking through the hotel reception to his room; a sense of sexual excitement permeating my whole body. He’d suggested picking me up from home or meeting at the restaurant. I was the one who’d insisted on coming to his room.
Abandoning all pretext of dignity I was ten minutes early. At least that was better than the hour early I’d been in arriving for the threesome weekend with Karen and Greg.
It was an Adonis who opened the door to my knock. Caught shirtless by my early arrival, he had thrown it on as he walked to the door, but not yet buttoned it up. Now his muscular chest was there on display, his smooth skin extending from the turn of his squared jaw down to where a line of fine hair rose above his low slung pants to teasingly point towards the manhood that sat below it.
As much as I wanted to look down to see whether his pants were yet bulging in anticipation, I moved my gaze up to look into those gorgeous piercing blue eyes; the eyes that had locked on mine from across a party those eight long months ago and led to some of the best sex I’d ever had. His hand reached out to gently caress my waist as he bent down to kiss me on the cheek.
His automatic greeting caught me off guard, in the process denying me the chance to respond properly with a sloppy greeting kiss on his check, so I raised my hand to the side of his head to pull it back towards me. As my lips felt the skin on his face the fire that had been smouldering inside me for the last hour ignited. It wasn’t enough.
I pulled his face back towards me again and planted a kiss on his lips; once, twice a third time. It was no good. The hunger I had wasn’t for food. With a fourth kiss I penetrated his mouth with my tongue, lingered there while the hand he had on my waist slid around my back and brought our bodies together.
I didn’t need to look down to know he was aroused. His erection was pushing hard into my stomach; throbbing with its own desire.
Still in the hotel corridor, my hand slipped between our bodies and started undoing his belt. He dragged me into the room to let the door close behind him as his hand slipped under the hem of my dress and started lifting it off my body. Like some cliché out of a B grade movie I had him pinned against the wall of the entrance foyer as I slipped his shirt off his shoulders and managed to get his pants to drop to the floor at about the same time as my dress came up over my head.
Turning away from the wall he started walking our now underwear clad bodies backwards towards the bed, carrying me with my feet off the ground, my crutch pushed hard against the unyielding firmness of his erection. With my arms around his shoulders, I wrapped my legs around his thighs, turned my crutch inwards and rubbed myself up and down on him; passionately kissing him all the way.
As we reached the bed he turned around and threw me into the middle of it, bending over me to strip me of my panties even as my toes struggled to grab the hem of his undies and drag them down his thighs to reveal the tall thick hard shaft they’d hidden from my view.
In moments he was on top of me, our bodies intertwined, his naked warm shaft pressed against the naked moist skin of my clit Trabzon Escort as we rolled around on the bed kissing. Somewhere, somehow, he’d unclasped my bra and I felt it pulled from my body to let my hard nipples find their own excitement against the soft skin of his chest.
A condom was pushed into my hand; one I eagerly sheathed him in. Then he was inside me; my body embracing a part of his in the most intimate way possible. Like a lull before a giant storm, for just a fleeting moment our most immediate passions found their satisfaction; letting our tangled bodies enjoy that first moment of bonding with a blinding clarity. We lay there in a complicated embrace, kissing deeply, fondling each other and rolling about as the eight months of time that had separated us disappeared.
And then, as he rolled me over on top of him it was like a monster fire of passion was unleashed upon us. I pounded myself on him until my sexual frustration burst out of me in a giant orgasm, rolled him back over on top and enjoyed the powerful grunting play of his manhood inside me until he too burst the dam holding back his cum and filled the condom with it.
Only then, as he eased his body back down to cover mine could we actually exchange words. “So how have you been the last eight months?”
After that initial release of our sexual desires we got dressed again for the dinner I had supposedly come here for.
Given he was here for a conference, Chris had asked to what extent I wanted to be insulated from the whole conference scene. While he wanted to take me to a nice dinner removed from the conference one, the practical question was whether I wanted to drop in on the pre-dinner cocktails first.
For me that was easy. I wanted to see more of the people he worked with. And so we wandered down to the conference ballroom and quickly found a circle of people mainly composed of Chris’s work associates. What immediately struck me was he seemed to be ten years younger than any of the others. The other thing I soon found out was that there was only one other partner in the group; a tall attractive woman in her thirties there with a husband of about the same age.
At least what the woman was wearing gave me comfort that I was only a little out of line in my own choice. Hers was a strappy mini cocktail dress, the v neck low enough that the edge of what had to have been a push up bra was visible along the neck hem of her dress and offered a truly impressive cleavage display.
Mine was just a little more mini relative to my height with the neck line plunging low enough to convince most of the guys trying to peek through the space of my under-boob that I wasn’t wearing any bra at all; although for maximum breast projection, I had my own trick garment in that area. The total effect was maybe more what you’d wear on the red carpet to make sure you got top billing in the next day’s news item than strictly corporate; still it was close enough.
And so I played my role as a good corporate WAG; charming, even flirting with the guys, engaging and bonding with the women and enhancing Chris’s reputation by cynically but subtly making sure every other guy in the circle was just a bit jealous of him. Of course the line you need to walk is a fine one. Not all his work colleges were men and you need to make sure the women are on your side too; and of course make sure the other WAG doesn’t start bad mouthing you to her husband the minute you’ve left.
But just having stood there for nearly an hour with my body in close contact with Chris’s had already left me thinking about our post dinner activities. It had been a long time since I’d seen him last but the effect – let’s be more honest and call it arousal – his mere physical presence had on me hadn’t diminished in the slightest. At least mine was invisible. His I could feel as we brushed against each other and there was nothing half-mast about it.
Dinner, delightful though the food might have been, was simply one long piece of verbal and flirty foreplay. At least I got his story of why he got a ticket to the event even though he was nothing more than a part timer Uni student kept on from the summer clerkship programme; the managing director had needed to withdraw and gave Chris his ticket. It also explained his deluxe room.
But the food, even the wine, was a mere distraction. The sound of his voice, the easy reassuring humour of our conversation, the piercing intelligence of his eyes, the sculptured perfection of his body, the very aura of his presence; all reminded me of why Chris had imprinted himself so deeply into my sexual being during our week long fling. As I sat there absorbing the pleasure of his mere company every part of my sexual anatomy responded in its own demanding way; a clit swollen and throbbing for attention and a vagina that felt like it had opened into a cavernous lady boner that no amount of cock could fill.
In the elegance of this restaurant there Trabzon Escort Bayan was only so much I could do to give vent to my feelings. Above the table we were all very proper, each of us dedicating one hand to eating while – when knives could be dispensed with – the other reached across the table for the electric pleasure that even interlocked fingers offered. Below it we tried the usual games. For a short while I managed to raise a bare foot into Chris’s crutch and wrap my toes around the circumference of the erection in his pants; sliding my foot up and down its length to feel it surging in response.
But the table was small; the white cloth covering it barely rolled over the edge on the two sides on which we were sitting. With the rest of his family facing away from us, the middle aged father sitting with his family at the table behind Chris had barely been able to pull his eyes away from my cleavage for the whole time we’d been sitting there. As I spread my legs apart to move my knee out to let me get that foot between Chris’s thighs the way the father’s eyes nearly left their sockets made it clear he was getting a grandstand view straight up my crutch.
My dress was so short and had ridden up so much as I sat down, I could see my panties just looking down between the table and my stomach. With their thin material now dampened by my anticipation of our post dinner activities I had to wonder just how much he could see. Had the whole thing not been so uncomfortable I might have repositioned my napkin and just worried about Chris. But the truth was I quickly got a cramp; so Chris’s cock would have to wait until we finished.
As for Chris he tried to reciprocate, but his legs were even longer. At his first and only attempt he nearly knocked the table over.
On the way back to the room we had a quick pash in the lift, the security camera and shortness of the ride merely allowing me a chance to push the top of his trousered erection up under the hem of my dress and against the panty covering of my clit as we kissed.
Chris’s fumble with the security card which opened the door was the only additional delay between the lift opening and us rolling stripped to our undies with our bodies intertwined on the bed. One thing I’ve always liked about Chris is the way he delays the “I really want to stick my dick in you” moment most guys get to once they’ve got you like this. He willing to satisfy my need to savour a physical and emotional intimacy short of penetration.
But tonight that wasn’t enough. I was the one who needed penetration; who needed the feel of his impressive cock swallowed up inside me, the feel of my body embracing it and drowning it in my juices. With just enough willpower to comply with my own condom rules I peeled down the front of his undies to expose him, sheathed him, pulled the crutch of my own panties aside and anxiously immersed him within me.
Only then, with our bodies locked physically together, could I slow myself down and fully enjoy that mere sense of intimacy as we continued to pash as we rolled around on the bed. Only then could I slow myself down enough to just bathe in his physical presence.
For maybe ten minutes that was enough.
What moved us to the next level was me starting to pulse my pussy against Chris’s cock; tensing the muscles of my vagina against it like I was trying to suck it in deeper. That stirred up Chris to start pleasuring his cock inside me; gentle slow thrusting movements accompanied by soft little groans signifying the deepest pleasure. The fires of passions became lit inside us both again; but Chris wasn’t satisfied with how things were. For him we were still over-dressed for what he was about to unleash on me.
Withdrawing, he stripped me of my undies and dropped his to the floor. Then he took one of the hotel pillows and placed it under my bum as I lay on my back sprawled across the bed. In an instant he was back on top of me, inside me; arching over me as he looked down on my body and thrust his manhood within me.
The third time we had made love – the third time Chris had ever made love to anyone those long eight months ago – he’d experimented with a thrusting movement which tried to stimulate my clit with every thrust. He’d nearly succeeded then. Now he’d perfected the trick.
As the flames of ardour roared furiously in the circle of our bound together bodies, Chris pounded me to an orgasm; a back arching, call his name out, scratch his back orgasm that had been building inside me all night. Unwilling to stop there, he kept pounding; bending his body into an s-shape as he lent down to suck my nipples, taking me all to willingly to a second orgasm moments before his own climax broke in a rising crescendo of grunts and groans.
Exhausted, he collapsed on top of me and let his body relax into my embrace as we kissed; still puffing from our exertions.
Yet for all their intensity, those two orgasms hadn’t Escort Trabzon yet filled my quota of need. Even as we lay there together those sparks of physical need that any contact with his person had always triggered in me were firing again. With the old full condom barely removed a fresh hard erection was already pushing into my stomach signalling Chris’s readiness to respond.
But this time we could be less intense; more loving and intimate than urgent and needy. This time I went on top; playing with his chest as I rode him cowgirl style, whipping him gently with my hand to encourage him to buck under me, lifting his head to my breast to have him stimulate my nipples as I enjoyed the sense of his capture in my bosom. This time took longer. This time we were more than just bodies fulfilling a physical need. This time we were two individuals spiritually and physically bound together. This time it was the journey, not the climax itself that counted, even if the climax was pretty good.
After this time we were spent; falling asleep still bound together.
We spent most of the night cuddled spooned together.
Like I understand is the case for many girls, I like spooning. Supposedly guys don’t; I’m not sure why, although maybe it’s just they don’t like being aroused by the contact without an outlet for it.
During our week together so many months ago, Chris had proved to be a willing spooner.
Of course all night spooning has its limitations. First there’s the need to constantly change positions in tandem as the person behind has their lower arm go dead where it’s tucked under them.
More prosaically, if the guy is behind – which his greater height makes for a better fit – there’s that little problem of where his night erection goes if you’re both naked. If he angles back so it doesn’t touch you, the total body contact can be pretty disappointing. If he doesn’t then it either settles into your bum crack – the default position if you are both really asleep – or pushes into the cheek of your bum.
Some girls don’t like the former that much. Me? As long as the guy can control his ardour I don’t mind; maybe apart from the greater than normal need not to break wind.
Chris’s cock had one other place it often seemed to end up in as we spooned; especially if he wasn’t aroused at our moment of first cuddling. As it grew, it would grow between my legs and come to rest buried in the fold of my front bottom; the shaft of his engorged throbbing cock pushing firmly against my engorged throbbing clit, pulsing occasionally even when he was asleep, while the head of the former stuck out from between my thighs like I’d grown a cock of my own.
After an evening of physical passion when our immediate ardour had been expended it was something I quite enjoyed; bringing about a night of erotic dreams and an episode of half-awake sex when neither of us could contain our arousals any longer.
The boss who’d passed his conference ticket onto Chris had intended to bring his wife, so I had a pre-paid breakfast if I wanted it and if Chris wanted me there. The offer of a nice hotel breakfast made the former a no-brainer. In connection with the latter, I wasn’t so sure about whether I might just be an embarrassment to Chris. After all, it sort of made clear to his workmates that he’d had company for the night.
That wasn’t an issue for him, and certainly wasn’t for me; so a hotel breakfast it was.
Given the stature of the profession organising the conference, I wasn’t sure what the protocol for conference partners in relation to dressing for breakfast was. I think I could fairly safely assume these days – even for them – that it didn’t need to be some Stepford Wives demure 1950’s style dress; but what?
I intended to take the opportunity to use the nice warm hotel gym and pool to, for a change, get some exercise out of the freezing mid-winter Canberra weather. So I wondered if I could get away with my spray on tight leggings and matching plunge neck cropped sports top. I put it on and asked Chris, who promptly grew a boner the minute he saw me. Maybe not.
The default – and only alternative – were a pair of nearly as tight fitted jeans and a plunge neck t-shirt, worn without the jumper and overcoat intended to get me back to my car afterwards without freezing. Even that created enough of a scene as we joined Chris’s work colleges at a communal table. Still, it wasn’t out of place compared to other WAG’s; it was really all very casual and even a bit exercisey. One mum with her kids even had swimmers on under a beach wrap; intending to take the kids to the heated hotel pool after breakfast; giving me notice that maybe it was best if I went to the gym first and pool after if I wanted to avoid that crowd.
After breakfast I left Chris to his conference, organising to catch up with him in his room after the conference sessions finished at 5 and from there get ready for the conference dinner dance later in the evening.
Shortly after five that afternoon I turned back up at his room. When there was no answer to the knock at the door I let myself in using the spare room key he’d given me for that purpose. As I laid my stuff out on the bed I heard Chris call from the bathroom.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32