Archive-name: Couples/anticip2.txt

Archive-author: Holly

Archive-title: Anticipation - 2





Leaving the plane, and the plane trip, behind me, I continued down 

the long, straight connecting tunnel which led to the gate. Ahead of

me, I could see the brightness of the opening over the heads of the

passengers in front. With every step it got bigger, and a few of the

anxious bright faces of greeters - friends, family, and lovers (I

couldn't help but grin) - became visible. With every step my excite-

ment mounted, and a thousand questions crowded in my head at once.

How would he look? How would he think I looked? How would we greet

each other? Should I just jump him, or allow him to set the precedent?

Would he be cool, or excited?

 

Would he still love me?

 

The low tunnel emptied out into the gate, and I spilled along with 

the rest of my crowd into the open. People were everywhere, pushing,

exclaiming, some hugging joyfully, some crying tearfully, and some

kissing passionately. I searched for one familiar face. The crowd

began to thin as the clumps of reunions wandered off towards baggage

claim. Finally, I was left by myself amongst a few stragglers, the

disappointment like a lead weight on my chest. He wasn't there.

 

He was stuck in traffic. He forgot the flight. He was in some horrible

accident somewhere. He was picking up flowers at the last minute. He

was...he was...

 

Well, wherever he was, he wasn't here. I sighed deeply and slowly 

trudged to the baggage claim, my eyes still scanning the near-empty,

late-night airport for him. Nothing. I gritted my teeth as I passed

a couple, passionately intertwined, obliviously groping each other

by a water fountain. Disgusting. There should be rules against that

sort of thing. That should be ME!

 

Then as I rounded them I caught a glimpse of the man's face and 

realized with a start that it was my former seat-mate from the plane.

I couldn't help but smirk and chuckle to myself as I thought what a

treat his girlfriend would receive later.

 

At the baggage claim I picked up my two bags and chose a lonely 

marble post to rest at. I dropped my bags against it and negligently

sat on them, chin in my hands, and continued to search through the

dwindling crowd. Hoping, but not expecting, the next face to come 

into view to be his.

 

And then, suddenly, it was. Unmistakably. And the look of him almost

stopped my heart. I knew that anxious look intimately, as I had had

it plastered on my own face for several minutes now. He darted through

the crowd at the baggage claim, head whipping around, eyes darting

furtively. For me. He was looking for me. He'd missed me. Of course.

 

I drank in the sight of him before he saw me. I always forget how 

tall he is, but he towers over the people around him. Somehow he looked

even larger in his starched, pristine white Navy uniform, and my 

pulsed raced at the sight of him in it. Whoever popularized the phrase

"I love a man in uniform!" was not kidding. Perhaps it was an implied

authority, or just the rugged manliness of it. But I got almost as

excited seeing him in it as I did seeing him out of it.

 

I caressed his broad shoulders, powerful chest, strong arms, thick 

waist, and long legs with my eyes. He was a hulking brute, I thought. 

But he was MY brute.

 

As I rose stiffly from my makeshift couch, at that moment he looked

my way, and caught my eyes. Wordlessly we approached each other, 

silently we met, desperately we fell into each other's arms. No

kissing, no groping, just a long, crushing, fulfilling hug. I buried

my face against his chest, he nuzzled my hair, and life was good again.

 

When we finally pulled away, we experienced a moment of awkwardness. 

We exchanged the how-was-your-flight, thanks-it-was-fine pleasantries,

while he picked up the heavier of my two bags, and I took the other.

We shuffled quietly out of the terminal and into the parking garage,

saying nothing more until we entered the elevator on the ground floor.

 

Once inside, though, my composure cracked. I dropped my bag, pulled

him towards me, and whispered, "Kiss me, Brian, I've missed you so 

much..." Without preamble, he gathered me into his arms and kissed me

hard, his tongue immediately delving into my mouth, claiming me. His

arms held me close, and I pressed myself closer, until I could feel an 

unyielding hardness against my belly button. It thrilled me to know I

did this to him, inspired this excitement in him by my mere presence.

I ground my hips against him, and he pressed closer, a moan escaping

his throat.

 

We would have torn at each other then and there but for the loud DING

of the elevator as it came to a halt and the doors slid open. Mercifully,

there was noone waiting just outside to witness our discomposure. We

separated reluctantly, took up the bags, and trundled to his car.

 

We talked casually in the car about little stuff, stuff so little it's

not even worth recalling. During the ride to the motel, though, I 

derived great pleasure from teasing him with my touch. His car was a

manual, so his hands were primarily occupied with the mechanics of

driving. But I had no such restrictions. I ran my fingers lovingly

through his hair, I rubbed the back of his neck, then slid my hand

down his arm. I squeezed his hand between shifting gears and then

rested my hand on his thigh. Occasionally, the car would hit a bump 

and my hand would 'accidentally' slip down farther on his thigh, 

resting lightly on the inner surface. Another jolt, and my hand moved

inwards, until my pinky just touched the cloth-clad hardness camped

between his legs.

 

So innocent, so unintended. His light chatter drifted off into silence,

and we both stared out the front window, he watching the traffic, I

watching the passing scenery. But through the pretense I knew he was 

wondering how far I would go with that left hand of mine. So far my 

touching had been intentionless. 

 

We stopped at a light, and started again. As he shifted from gear to 

gear, I could feel the shifting of his muscles through my hand on his

inner thigh. His strength excited me, and elicited delicious images of

his strength applied to a more erotic purpose. My thoughts surreptitious-

ly directed my actions, and by the time he had shifted into overdrive, I

had moved my hand to cradle his erection, not overly large but just as 

strong as the rest of him. I squeezed him firmly. His body tensed and I

heard the breath hiss out of him. He said nothing as I squeezed him 

again, then scratched my nails lightly over the fabric. 

 

I slowly teased him, taunted him, and me. The promise of ecstasy under 

fabric was more than I could bear. I hummed softly as I deftly fingered

the tab of his zipper, and slowly pulled it down. I reached inside his

fly and stroked his cock through one less layer of clothing, his briefs

all that were separating the heat of his skin from my eager hand.

 

Brian had always lamented the design of men's briefs, particularly the

annoying overlapped opening in the front. "What's the point of trying

to thread your penis this way and that way to get it out, when you can

just pull the waistband down under it?" Normally, he had a point. Right

now, I blessed that silly flap as my hand sank down into his underwear

and closed around his shaft, pressed up against his belly.

 

I looked up to peer at his reaction, and was rewarded. His eyes bored

straight ahead, intent on his driving, but his jaw was clenched, and

his nostrils flared with his accelerated breathing. His knuckles on

the steering wheel were white with tension. 

 

My heart thudded with excitement as I stroked his cock, the satin feel

of it making me almost dizzy with desire, which I voiced. "I want this,"

I said, "I want this so badly."

 

His jaw unclenched, and worked back and forth as if to relieve a kink, 

and he finally replied, "Jesus, Holly..." I heard the strain in his 

voice. "You know I can't stay with you when we get there..." He was 

referring to the fact that he had to return to his classroom and study

for his exam the next day, which is something I had understood and 

agreed to before I even bought the plane ticket. But that didn't mean I

had to like it. And I was going to make damn sure he didn't either!

 

I squeezed his cock again and slowly ran the soft part of my thumb over

his slit, pressing it downward and rubbing it slowly. I could feel the 

precum slick the skin of my thumb, and my heat escalated a notch. "So?"

I said, in my best 1-900 voice. The huskiness of it was so deep it 

surprised even me a little. 

 

Brian didn't even look at me, just gnashed his teeth and clutched the

wheel desperately. The car was speeding so fast I wondered if he had

the accelerator all the way to the floor. He finally worked up a 

reply, "So...goddammit don't TEASE me like this!!" he blurted. 

 

Ahha. So now _I_ had the control. I remembered a similar circumstance

in the distant but recently-remembered (heh) past when the roles had

been reversed. Again I felt a thrill of power. I was about to say 

something else when, with a grunt, Brian braked heavily and turned

abruptly, and with more than a little burnt rubber streaked on it, left

the street. I looked up to see we had arrived at the parking lot of the

motel. Awww...

 

As Brian parked, I removed my hand from his fly, with excruciating 

reluctance. He stared at me silently with eyes of fire as he brusquely

zipped himself up, then unbuckled his seatbelt and made as if to get

out. Instead he lunged across the gear shift, pinned me to the side of

the car, and ravaged my mouth. His hands slipped up my sides and roughly

fondled my breasts through my shirt for several long moments while he

kissed me. I was in heaven. Part of the pleasure of gaining control over

him has always been the part when he gets back at me. Just thinking of

how he would pay me back later left my pussy oozing.

 

Finally, he left me, panting and grinning (both of us!), while he 

checked in at the front desk of the motel. As I watched him walk away

from the car, I admired his ass (not a butt - it takes a special kind

of butt to be an ASS), and it occurred to me that he was parading 

boldly up to the reception desk with a raging hard-on, and I grinned

again. Another thing I loved about Brian was that he was never ashamed

for people to notice that he was turned on. While I waited I also 

dropped a hand between my legs to gently stroke my damp mound underneath

my shorts. I longed to drop them and help myself to several orgasms 

right then and there. Or better yet, jump Brian as soon as he came back

to the car, but I decided to prolong the agony until later. When I came,

I decided, it would be with his cock inside of me. There was no better

way.

 

To the reader: You're probably wondering by now, after these several 

pages of buildup, where the SEX is!! My thoughts exactly. To this point,

I had only had tastes of what was to come. The lovely orgasm on the plane, 

and the constant cock-teasing on the way from the airport, had me primed

so much for sex, so much for a good, hard fuck, that my sex-fogged brain

was struggling all the way from the parking lot to our room to form a 

reconciliation between my raging need which threatened to burn me up from

the inside-out, and the necessity of waiting until Brian could return to

me at the motel later.

 

Brian set my luggage down on the doorstep to our room and opened the 

door with our room key, then set my stuff just inside the door. Before

I could move to enter the room myself, however, he put one arm around me,

stooped, and swept me off my feet. I stuttered speachlessly, and he 

quieted me with a quick, soft kiss. "I know it's not our honeymoon, but

it might as well be," he said. 

 

That was it for me. I didn't know whether to come or cry. What I did do

was allow Brian to ease me through the door and set me gently down, then

I reached both arms around him and pushed the door shut with a slam,

effectively caging him against the door. Then I dove for his neck, my

lips and tongue making a bee-line for his hot spot at the base of his

throat. I sucked and tongued it madly while my hands rapidly undid the

belt at his waist. Before he could object I shoved his pants and briefs

out of the way, and hauled his stiff prick out into the open. It looked

thick and purple-red and absolutely gorgeous between our bodies like

that, and I wanted nothing more than to just stuff it into my aching

cunt and ride him until I died of pleasure.

 

Sadly, that was not to be. Even then Brian had just started to recover

his wits enough to try to stop me, unintelligibly mumbling something

about having to get back to the classroom. I slapped one hand over his

mouth with one hand, and stroked his straining cock with the other, as

I efficiently explained the situation: "Brian, now I can't possibly be

so cruel as to send you back to study with THIS," at which point I 

tugged gently on his shaft, "distracting you the whole time. You'd 

never get anything done, and you'd fail your test tomorrow." I removed

my hand from his mouth and sank down to my knees, so that I was eye 

level with his glorious cock. "Besides," I said to it, my breath

caressing it hotly, "this will only take a minute." Indeed, I fully 

expected him to shoot about as fast as a Navy ballistic missile.

After all, it had been three months of waiting, and several, several

minutes of teasing. Finally, my case pled, I closed my lips over his

cockhead and sucked.

 

The moment my mouth encompassed the head of his prick, Brian's 

objections stopped, and he began moaning. Obviously, he had seen the

wisdom of my irrefutable arguments. His hands found my hair, and wound

themselves through the silky curls, using it to pull my head further 

into his groin. For my part, I dispensed with the finesse I usually

exhibit when fellating him. My purpose this time was simply to suck 

him off as quickly as possible. Without preamble I swallowed the entire

length of his shaft, lodging his knob firmly into the back of my throat,

and turned on the suction full throttle. My cheeks caved in, and my 

tongue plastered itself to the underside of his cock, rubbing up and

down. Brian went wild, and with his hands still in my hair, began 

thrusting his hips against me, fucking his cock into my mouth rapidly.

 

Reader, I would love to draw this out, long and hot, in apology for 

taking so long to get here. But I wasn't kidding about the ballistic

missile gag (no pun intended). Within minutes, Brian was shooting

three months worth of stored cum down my throat, and I was diligently

swallowing every bit of it as if they hadn't fed me on the plane. By

then his cock was jammed so far back into my throat I literally didn't

taste a thing. Dang.

 

While he was busy filling my gullet with his hot sperm, I looked up to

watch him. This was, absolutely, the best reward I could have under the

circumstances. Whenever I'm not cumming myself, I love to watch him. To

me, the pleasure reflected in his face is one of the most beautiful

things in the world. He didn't make a sound. He never does when he

orgasms. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and

while his face turned bright red, he tossed his head back and forth

from side to side. He looked for all the world like a baby being born.

It would have been a tossup as to what side of me it truly appealed to,

the lover in me or the mother in me. No matter.

 

When he was finally done, I gently released him from my mouth. Brian 

finally allowed himself to exhale explosively, his body shuddering one

last time, and his head fell back to bump with a soft thud against the

door at his back. His death grip on my hair loosened, and he stroked

my head with infinite gentleness and gratitude while I licked his 

shrinking penis clean with loving strokes. I then carefully replaced

it into his briefs as if I were laying a baby to rest, which I was.

I knew it would wake up later to be fed again. With a nurturing touch

I tucked him in and smoothed his briefs over him. Finally, I stood.

 

When I stood fully erect, I looked up to meet his gaze. The love that

I saw there was heart-stopping. My heart did not stop, but my love for 

this man was so overpowering it brought tears to my eyes. A salty

droplet streaked down my cheek. Brian kissed my forehead and pulled me

to him in a tender embrace, and we held each other that way for a long

moment. "I love you," he said. "I love you too," I said. Cliche, but 

true.

 

Finally, I stepped away from him, and assisted in replacing his Navy

issue trousers to their regulation spiffiness. I had so conscientiously

swallowed his cum that not a drop marred their pristine whiteness. The

only blemish in his otherwise immaculate uniform was a damp spot, located

approximately over his heart, where some of my tears had soaked into his

shirt. He noticed my scrutiny, then the spot, and smiled back at me. 

"It'll dry," he said. 

 

He kissed me one last time, promised to be back in a few hours, and eased

out the door, closing it quietly behind him. 

 

>From the time he had carried me into the motel room, to when he shut the

door behind him, less than ten minutes had passed. And already I looked

forward bleakly to the next few hours, and eagerly to his return. My 

frustrated pussy still throbbed with denied need, but the orgasm score was

now tied. I had given us both a taste of what was to cum. And I was hungry

for more!

 

End of Part II - Anticipation

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