©1996 Jet Mykles
NOT SAFE FOR WORK
A casual encounter via an elevator.
Just watching him move, you can tell he’s an incredible lay. Those hips. Couldn’t they just pound into your groin until you couldn’t walk for days? Thighs, powerful and muscular, able to put some power behind those thrusts. And they have to be strong, because they’re carrying a heavy load in front. Jeans are a marvelous invention. You can see it all.
I followed him just to watch his butt, wondering what it’d be like to fill my hands with each cheek and pull him inside. My cunt goes juicy just fantasizing that his dick is hard and inside me, those hips and thighs behind it, driving, pounding, ripping me apart.
Oh God! I stopped because he turned around. Could it be that he felt the weight of my stare? Could he have felt the lust welling up inside me, transferring itself to him as I imaging him hard and long, in my hands and my appreciative mouth. Mouth, cunt, I can’t decide where I want him more.
No, he’s not paying any attention to me. He’s stopped at the elevator. When his finger punches the button, my clit jolts. Even though I had been on my way out, I step up beside him to wait for the lift.
He’s tall and he smells good. Jeans and a button-down white shirt. Men need to learn to cultivate that look, in my honest opinon. Few outfits are sexier even on men who don’t have god-like proportions as this one does. He flips his head to clear his eyes of the overhanging lock of gold-brown hair. In so doing, he catches my sidelong gaze. I smile, caught. He smiles back.
He couldn’t get any cuter. I shift slowly from foot to foot in an effort to ease the tension in my groin. No good. There’s only one thing that can truly ease my ache and it’s encased in his jeans about an arm’s length away. If I reached out, I could grab it.
The elevator doors open and he gallantly waves me inside.
“Thank you,” I say with my best smile. Two others enter the elevator with us. I smile wickedly, wondering if they’re in for a show.
I continue to study him out of the corner of my eye, mentally popping those sweet little brass buttons from his shirt to reveal the hard, sculpted muscles beneath.
One of our company leaves the elevator and I have to shift to allow another to enter. I inadvertently brush his arm. The electricity nearly brings me to my knees and I comb my fingers through my hair to hide my eyes, closed from the power of the lust radiating from me.
I peek up at him. He’s smiling slightly. Did he see that look? Does he know I’m nearly out of control?
The elevator actually stops on the floor of my room and I step forward. I can’t be close to him anymore and I’m not going to make a fool out of myself by following him to his room. As the elevator doors are closing, I glance back and boldly meet his gaze. The heavy metal doors shut.
I lean heavily against the opposite wall, my hand sliding of its own accord to my breast to pinch a nipple. Shocked by my own actions, I guiltily glance around. Thankfully, no one is there.
Shaking my head, I go to the lounge area at the end of the hall. From there, I can look out a picture window at the vast bustle of downtown Chicago. I lean my flushed forehead against the cool glass and shut my eyes, willing my body under control.
Down the hall, the elevator doors hiss open. My active imagination pictures him stepping quickly from the little box onto the geometric pattern of the hallway carpet. Anxiously, he casts about and sees me at the window, silhouetted against the crisp afternoon sun. Smiling, I imagine his grin as he admires my curves, the way my own jeans hug my hips. He imagines my thighs wrapped around his waist in a death grip that threatens to kill him with pleasure.
Tingling, I can feel him coming up behind me, hear his cat-like footsteps on the carpet as he stalks me. Uncertainty hits him as he wonders how he can approach me. In this day and age, a man cannot be too careful. He knows nothing about me, except that we share a hot craving that demands to be satisfied.
He stops perhaps a foot behind me but I can feel him as if he were pressed against my back. My hands, braced on the ledge before me, clutch at the edges of the polished wood. My hips churn a bit of their own volition.
His hand reaches out and touches my shoulder. I jump a mile which is actually only an electric jolt that shoots my neck erect, my forehead away from the window. I turn to face him. Our eyes meet and his mouth opens with an introduction he’s not yet composed. How do you meet someone with whom your primary interest is to fuck blind?
His hand is still extended and I touch it wonderingly. Boldly, I take it into mine and twine my fingers around his. He watches silently and I can see his growing appreciation inside those jeans.
“My room’s down the hall,” I hear myself say, trying not to let myself think.
He squeezes my fingers. Clutching his hand lest he or I change our minds, I brush past him toward my room. Desperately, I dig into my pocket for my keycard. I stop at my door and our momentum drives him into me, slamming his chest to my back, groin to ass. I groan loudly and feel his echo in my neck. The keycard fumbles at the lock and we crash into the room. His booted foot slams the door behind us as he presses me against the table just inside the entrance. Lips and teeth nip at my neck. I shake his hand from mine and reach back to clutch his hips, pulling them against me. “Oh God,” I groan, pressing my ass into his groin. He moans and wraps his arm around my waist to give strength to my move.
Frustrated, I fight my way around to face him. In so doing, I throw off his balance. We topple to the carpet, a writhing mass of arms and legs, muscles and sexual heat. Grabbing his head in my hands, I press his lips to mine, hungrily devouring his tongue when it plunges through my lips. We slow down to savor the taste of each other. Our bodies’ churning eases to a groaning grind and I realize that my legs are in the death grip I’d imagined before. Surprisingly, the denim of our jeans don’t catch fire from the friction.
“Fucking unbelievable,” I hear him moan as he teases my lips with his. I welcome the teasing, taking the moment to slide my hands down his back to clutch his ass. It’s every bit as firm and sexy as I’d imagined.
Violently, I shove him from atop me. Shocked, he rolls aside and can merely stare longingly at me as I scramble to my feet. I sit shakily on the bed staring at him. I lean my elbows on my knees, legs apart in an effort to calm my cunt.
Heroically, he finds his voice before I do. “You want me to leave?” he asks, his eyes and body language clearly stating that such was not his desire.
“Not on your life,” I growl.
With a grin, he starts for me but I jump back on the bed, hand spread out to stop him. With him standing, my palm is about on level with the bulge I so dearly want to free. “You have to wear a condom,” I said to his waiting face.
“Gladly,” he rasps, reaching for his back pocket.
“No, I’ve got one,” I say. On my knees, I turn to the far night stand. My hand finds the drawerpull just before the mattress sinks with his weight. In a rush, my knees are pulled from under me and my breasts and belly crash on the bed.
“Wait,” I breathe as his hands tug my shirt free from my jeans.
“Go ahead and get it,” he said, sliding his hands up under the heavy cotton, burning the skin of my back with his touch. “I swear I’ll wear it.”
How can I concentrate on my hands when his lips find the small of my back? “Beautiful,” he mumbles into my spine as I finally find the slick plastic wrapper. I clutch it in my hands and sag against the mattress as he pushes my shirt all the way up. Deft fingers make quick work of the clasp of my bra. I tingle as he covers my bare back with feathery kisses.
His full weight crushes me. Hands slide my shirt and bra up my arms and off onto the floor. His fingers pry mine open to take the condom from me. With a growl, he bites my neck.
“Roll over, beautiful.”
In a daze, I obey, spinning slowly under the tunnel of his legs. When did he get his shirt open? I’m slightly disappointed that I didn’t get to pop the buttons off, but the sight of his pecks and abs chase the disappointment from my mind.
I remember my bare breasts only when he cups them in his hands. In my opinion, they’re my finest asset, large and firm. From his reaction, I think they satisfy his desires nicely. Clever, experienced fingers knead the soft mounds, pinching just hard enough at rock hard nipples. I close my eyes and arch into his hands, sighing. Hot lips close on one nipple and suck, hard. Gasping, I arch again, violently. Firmly, his free hand pushes me back down and he transfers his mouth to the other nipple. Nearly crying from the decadence of it, I slide my hands through his thick hair, down his neck, under his shirt to the hard muscles of his back.
An unexpected wash overtakes me and I actually come, grinding against his leg. Pleasantly surprised, he waits it out then sits up. Dreamily, I gaze up at my unnamed lover, admiring the sloppy fit of his shirt now as it drapes halfway down one marvelously sculpted arm. His eyes are bright and his lips moist as he grins down at me.
“Incredible,” he tells me, busying himself with the buttons of my jeans.
He steps off the bed to pull them off, taking my soaking panties with them. I see his intent to dive at me but stop him by sitting up.
“Let’s make you more comfortable,” I say, unbuckling his belt. “These have got to be getting tight.”
“Very,” he agrees, sliding out of his shirt.
Before freeing him, I slide my hand over the long shape which has taken form down his right pant leg. Leaning forward, I rub my face against it, reaching through his legs with one hand to clutch at his ass. His hands grab my shoulders as he stumbles slightly and I can’t help the feeling of pride to hear his ragged groan. Now I’m ready to see him, to feel him, to taste him, and my hands make quick work of his button-fly.
His cock is barely free and it’s in my mouth. Thoughts of STD’s and AIDS fly through my head but I can’t resist wrapping my hands around his shaft and sucking that purple, mushroom-shaped head into my mouth. Another ragged groan prompts me to suck harder.
Suddenly it’s gone and it takes me precious seconds to gain my bearings. He’s shoved me from him to my back on the bed. I whimper in protest but he ignores me, concentrating on opening the condom packet.
Safety first, I admonish myself, and force my body to wait patiently as he rolls on the condom. Once done, he crawls back to me. I spread my legs and lay back and he stops poised over me, hands braced outside my shoulders, knees brushing the insides of my thighs. Slowly, in a visible effort to prolong the moment, he lowers his body to me. I lift my head to meet his lips with mine and he keeps possession of my mouth as his fingers slip into the juices of my cunt. This time he meets my arch of pleasure by sinking more of his weight against me. Delighted, I wrap one arm around his shoulders, sliding the other down to his cock.
Together, we guide him inside me. Mouths forgotten, our lips continue an absent-minded kiss as he inches inside me until he can go no more. Then the rhythm begins. Finally, I feel the power of his hips as he grinds into me. Finally, I’m filled with what I need to ease the ache deep inside me.
I jerk away from the cool glass of the window pane in shock. Disappointed, I recognize the daydream for what it was. It’s been too long, I decide, reluctantly letting go of the vivid fantasy which leaves me unsatisfied and wet.
I stay for a moment to collect myself. After all, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this to myself. With a sigh, I turn around.
He stands in the hall not five feet behind me, a small grin on his lips.