Lunch Break

In the middle of a seemingly predictable week and the middle of a perfectly average day, lunch hour came as it always did. I was seated at my desk with every intention to type right through it. My phone buzzed and the screen lit up with the name I gave him to live anonymously in my phone. Small talk was never our thing. We didn’t perform routine “check-ins” from opposite coasts between encounters. 

~~~

I wrote to him years before we first met— I loved his writing and so did most of America. It was punchy, deliberate, and void of that flowery mystery that painted pictures and potentials into a young woman’s mind. There were no secrets, no hidden intentions. Every bit of desire was made clear. The first physical encounter came after months of fantasy-sharing through texts. I was ready to burst by then. He came to town and we wasted the first few minutes together pretending to sit for dinner. We were across from each other and a few inches too far from touching—which is all we wanted to do. Our texts read like road maps, we were both so studied on the route. We ran back to his hotel and ‘hit the road’ driving each other into sheer exhaustion. The energy between us was matched and we wrestled to dominate throughout the encounter. He insisted on a volume I used in voicing my demands that night… “be loud,” he told me.

For months after, we emailed, we texted, we phone called, only to touch a moment of the rare and almighty sexual connection between us. He was very much the introduction I needed to know that (of many things) sex could also be about getting what you WANT, not just whatever mechanical checklist it took to reach climax. Sex with him made it very clear to me, it wasn’t only about what I needed to orgasm, but what deep down to my shameless, depraved core- I wanted. There’s a difference in the two and how it decorates the journey of pleasure—you make all kinds of detours when you voice what you want. I wanted so badly to see him again. To reach the heights of that rapture of pleasure. He would send prompts throughout the weeks, days and months apart to know what I wanted and to put words to what he wanted. Some days he wanted to be trapped between my thighs to have the sound of the world blocked out with my legs against his ears, some days he wanted to hold my legs apart and drive in as deep and hard as he could. There were days I couldn’t decide who would be bit and where? Our mouths missed each other. 

And though we often question whether talking about it can sometimes be the best part, with him, the physicality was always just… as… explosive. When I see the face that has said those words, when I feel the skin that actioned its telling and when I press up into the heat of it all, I melt. 

~~~

It was lunch hour and his text was brief as expected. The name of the hotel, the room number, the time his car was coming to get him and that he desperately wanted to hear that sound I made in his final thrusts. 

I washed my pussy in the sink of the office bathroom. We’d be getting right to work the second that door opened, and I was ready. 

I breezed past the front desk, taking that leap of faith when entering an unknown hotel you aren’t staying at, unaware of where to find the elevators while desperately trying to avoid being stopped for questions. In the elevator, I pushed my hand down the front of my pants to find I was already slippery.

I made it to his door. Before my knuckles reach the wood, it opens. I’m inside now and catch my breath while slumped with my back against the back of the door and my hips pushed out toward him. We stare at each other. Eye level to eye level, we’re the same height. No words. I smirk with my jaw dropping open, still breathing hard. I’m locked onto his eyes while my tits rise and fall with each breath. At the top of an inhale, his mouth seals itself to mine. His right hand around my wrists and left hand on my ass, he lifts my hips into his. Our mouths know exactly how to work each other, they fit perfectly. I suck on his bottom lip and let my teeth dig in as I pull away. We’re starved for each other. He grips me tight, his thumbs digging into my hip bones as his mouth trails down my neck onto my chest. I’m moaning from the sheer thrill of it all.

Everything is happening so quickly. My pants and panties are across my shins as I lay my hands around his shaved skull and shake. His tongue drags heavy over my clit with a wet, hot friction. He feasts like a lion, teeth and snout buried deep into me, his steamy, sopping prey. We don’t have much time. I stand him up to feed me the flavor of my pussy through a kiss. 

I can feel his cock in his pants. My hand squeezes it with pulses all the way to the tip. I love it being trapped while expanding. With all the power and all of the electricity coursing through him, it might rip its own way out. I need it out of his pants. On my knees I greedily release it and begin to devour. There’s no teasing in how we touch each other. I stare up at him while he drives his cock to the back of my mouth, dips into my throat. I’m backed up against the door. I let him get away with a few deep slams and sneak my tongue out past my teeth to lick his balls while he’s this far in. 

The hotel phone rings. We ignore it. He could easily finish in my throat in a matter of seconds but instead tears open a condom from his pocket and rolls it onto his cock. The band feels tight at the base of his cock. With his fingers he scoops out the saliva from my mouth and paints himself with it, a string of my spit hangs from the tip of him. 

I bend over the counter we’re up against and hike my knee on top of it. Standing behind me he slaps my pussy with his hand and then his cock, making a splashing sound. He pushes his cock all the way into me. No teasing, no slow, shallow pumps. His cock has the most perfectly sculpted head at the top of it that rubs over every curve and ripple inside of me on its way in and out. The phone rings again. He has two fingers in my mouth stirring up the spit and two fingers on my pussy, grinding on my clit. I can feel the veins in his cock through the latex, there’s a buzz in them as he stiffens rock solid. My pussy is choking his cock with how tight I’m gripped to it. I’m holding my breath as he builds up to the very edge of climax. We’ve made it to those final, exploding thrusts. I’m gasping and aching with the feeling of heat, clench and vibrant release as my clit rolls around his finger tips. There’s that sound he likes. His cock gurgles inside me and I know he’s emptying a load that’s been building up for too long. His cellphone rings. 

We’re both catching our breath, he answers and assures them he’s on his way down. 

We made a mess. He peels off the condom, washes his hands in the sink and laps up a couple mouthfuls of water, rinsing the smell of me off him. I’m still dripping. He kisses me, tells me to stay for a hot bath and room service. I decline and suit up to head back to the office. 

We will always find each other when we’re close and do this.

The best sex of my life was just that, just sex.

Nothing about who owned who.

Nothing about when will I see you again?

Nothing about ‘say you love me’

Only and Entirely about tell me what you want

Forever and for always about find the words and USE them

Crafting each other coupons at rapid-fire pace and then cashing them in as hot and hungered as possible.

Photo by Theik Smith @theikphoto