#quietfervourwrites

“Don’t move,” she ordered as she entered the room.

He was sitting on their sofa. Shirtless, in jeans. She was wearing a short, thin dress; no underwear.

Without hesitation, she took his hands, spread his arms wide and quickly secured them with the scarves she’d brought with her. He said nothing, just smiled knowing she was feeling a certain way.

She made short work of removing his jeans, revealing the erection she’d achieved through her sharp, affirmative actions. Her tits swinging with her hard nipples evident beneath her dress hadn’t hurt either.

Straddling him, her wet cunt slid easily down his shaft. She was ready to fuck. She didn’t particularly care if he wasn’t. Her warmth and wetness made him elicit a low groan.

Quickly, she began to ride. Sliding and grinding, taking what she needed.

“Fuck…” he managed to mutter under his breath.

“Don’t cum,” she ordered, which only served to make him moan and grow harder.

She was panting now, holding his shoulders, eyes closed, working him hard towards her end. Her ass slapped against his thighs, her arousal dripped down his balls.

“Don’t… cum…” she said again, this time it came out between ragged breaths as her cunt tightened around his cock.

He watched her in awe as she finally let go. Her face contorted, mouth dropped open; her voice strangled in animalistic grunts and groans; her cunt gripped him like her life depended on it.

Sated, she gingerly moved off him, legs clearly unsteady after the rush of pleasure.

“I haven’t cum yet,” he murmured, as she untied his wrists.

“Oh honey,” she whispered as she stroked his face, “This wasn’t about you.” She kissed him gently and walked off to have a shower.

Hesitating for only a moment, he jumped to his feet; delighting in her squeals when he caught her.

There are some things sex can never be. Too hard; a good cock can never be firm enough. It needs to be sucked, enveloped and ridden til it softens with exhaustion. Too wet; a warm pussy only gets better the wetter it is. It needs to be eaten, filled and pounded til it clenches and drips with pleasure. Too loud; a good fuck is amplified by sound. It needs to be heard - all the groaning, moaning and screaming, til there is nothing left to say.

As she lay in the soft morning light, she let three words roll around her head. They almost sounded like a chant, repeating over and over. Quietly, she turned to face him - he had not woken yet. Her face flushed and her heart thrummed at the thought of saying those three words to him. She wondered what his reaction might be. It scared her.

She watched as he opened his eyes and smiled. He turned, rose from the bed and dressed quickly and silently. As he walked out the door, only then could she summon up the courage to say the three words to the empty room.

“Please… don’t leave,” she whispered.

Talking to him felt easy. Everything flowed without awkwardness or silences that needed to be filled. No one would have seen them as a pair, but their personalities were in tune on level neither had experienced before. During their conversation, they touched; hand on knee, fingers brushing hair, thigh to thigh. Eventually, there came a time when they had to say goodnight. Rising to go, he looked at her in such a tender way, she knew they would share the sunrise.

In dreams everything is perfect. Breath is fresh and kisses delicious. Tongues taste and lips read need. Bodies are lithe and confident, with smooth skin and hair where it’s wanted. Sheets are soft and cool, never tangling or causing a pause. Foreplay is faultless, with arousal flowing with ease. Erections are the desired size and stay hard for the perfect amount of time. Wetness arrives without effort and flows consistently, never losing momentum or stolen by distraction. Orgasms happen at the perfect moment - synchronised and satisfying. The afterglow is shared, comfortable and calm.

In dreams is where I see you.

As she approached him at the bar, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The photos she’d sent didn’t do her justice. She was gorgeous. She moved effortlessly through the room; her long limbs and sleek body almost swayed to a silent rhythm. He wracked his brain, trying to find a word for how she looked… svelte. That was it. A cheesy, but fitting word he’d only read on amateur writer’s tumblr blogs. Her body was svelte: gracefully slender and lithe.

Their greeting was warm. The brief touch as they hugged confirmed his suspicions. She felt soft and smelt amazing. Her smile made her eyes glow with a twinkle of mischief. He was mesmerised by her physicality.

As the conversation warmed and wore on, he did notice something. Or rather, the lack of it. Nothing was particularly wrong, but nothing was particularly right, either. Physically, he found her attractive, but mentally there was no spark. He wondered how she felt.

Out of the blue, she said, “You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I… I’m not sure what you mean?” He stammered, genuinely surprised by her question, and hoping she wasn’t wanting what he couldn’t give.

“Oh, I think you do. You and me. It’s not there, is it?” She smiled sadly. Sighing, he nodded. Relieved and disappointed.

They finished their conversation with a friendly hug. She even kissed him softly on the cheek. All he felt was friendship. They parted ways and drove into the night alone.

This was a mistake. Coming here. Seeing them. She’d had her suspicions for a few months. Or was it over a year? Curiosity, frustration and loneliness had finally got the better of her and she’d followed him to the evening meeting he’d said he was going to.

The woman he was with was not beautiful. Nor particularly young. But she looked confident and happy. Two things she herself had not been for months. They way they touched showed an intimacy she’d not experienced for awhile.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. There was a message - her online friend suggesting they should meet. Again. At least he was consistent and seemingly interested in her. She paused for a moment before possibly making another mistake. She asked for his address as she walked back to her car.