A Lover’s Pact, Part 1
Long days and long nights make for a short life. Except when I get away with you. It has been weeks since we last saw each other. You have your life and I have mine. It is when our stars cross that life gets interesting. And our stars are about to cross once more.
We have a thing you and I. A pact, if you will. Once a month or so, we can demand of the other time. No explanations, no stories just a where and a when. The other moves heaven and earth be free. You do it this time for me. We literally are time thieves, stealing time from the world for each other. This go round — two nights.
I meet you at the appointed time, at the appointed place. You have a backpack by your side. Like Clint Eastwood in the Bridges of Madison County, I swing the passenger door open for you. Unlike Meryl Streep in the movie — you get in. We’re off.
It’s a two hour drive north from Atlanta to our destination — the mountains at the start of the Appalachian trail. We talk easily at first, catching up. I notice that you are braless — I love the way you are so at ease with your body. I try not to get distracted by your nipples pushing up against your tight top. It is then I realize that you are watching me, watching you — and smiling.
“Got you,” you exclaim. “Took you long enough! Hungry I hope!”
Too bad we still have an hour left on the drive — but then you surprise me. Sliding your legs apart, you slowly pull up your skirt. Nothing underneath. No thong, just desire. Wet, dripping desire. For me. I shudder in anticipation of what lies ahead.
“Like I said, I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am suddenly famished,” I say — my voice surprisingly shifts a full octave lower than normal. You have that physical effect on me.
“Well, you’ll just have to wait. You are driving after all. Then again, I’m not. I can take my eyes off the road.”
And with that, you reach over and squeeze my cock through my jeans. I respond. Want increases with every slow stroke of your hand. You unsnap my jeans. Make me slide them to my knees. My cock gets harder every second.
“Tell me what you want right now. Exactly and graphically.”
Moaning now, I stammer “Suck my cock. Take me fully in your mouth. I want your mouth wrapped around me.”
“That all?” You look disappointed, but squeeze my cock extra hard as if urging me to go on.
“No. I want, no I need to, to fuck your throat. I…”
Satisfied, You cut me off by dropping your head in my lap. Then suck me in.
One hand on the wheel means one hand is free to squeeze that beautiful round ass of yours. Without hesitation, you suck me with purpose. There is something special about knowing that this time I won’t stop. That neither one of us wants that right now. That you are going to suck, nibble, and deepthroat me as I fuck your mouth until I explode. Knowing that just drives me crazier.
You cup my balls, as I drive deep. That unique sound of my cock sliding in and out of your mouth turns us both on. I see that you have one hand between your legs and you moan as your own desire builds. You tease me. You lick me from the base to the tip. Around and around. You know me well. You sense that I am starting to get close.
My hand grips your hair just as you take all of me in — and I let go. You choke at first (as you usually do) while swallowing every drop. Long after my cock has stopped pulsing, you continue to suck, until I am completely dry. Finally, as both hands white knuckle the wheel as you sit back upright, licking your lips in a playful, exaggerated way.
“That ought to tide you over.”
“Just another hour before we get there, then it’s my turn to feast on you,” I say.
You smile, slip two fingers inside of your dripping pussy, then push them both in my mouth. Oh, fuck!
“You look like you needed a taste.” You laugh, as the Georgia red clay and red pine trees speed by.
I am seeing a side of you that no one else does. A sexy free spirit who is unafraid of what she wants. What she needs. What she deserves. Pure. Raw. Sex. Who knew that beneath that placid suburban mom exterior beats the heart of a passionate Aphrodite and a feral wild that even wolves would envy.
You reach into your backpack, and take a long drink of expensive Irish whiskey straight from the bottle. I’m going to need to catch up, now in many ways.
I push the accelerator to the floor.
Getting to the cabin can’t happen fast enough…
Stay tuned for part 2…
