Closing Speed

We started a long way apart. Just an initial comment, followed up by enquiring questions. The attraction was immediate – an underlying inquisitiveness about looks, preferences, sexual appetite. And the pictures.

Oh Fuck. The pictures.

First, innocence. Just jeans and a casual top… but more than a hint of cleavage. And those jeans – tight, well-fitted, slim legs. Oh yes, she had my attention straight away. I had to reciprocate, and she had the advantage – my HNTs giving her a preview of what to expect, and leaving little room to maneuver in terms of what she’d want to see next.

But as the words spilled forth, things were different from other ‘encounters’. She was sexy, arousing and, well, so pliable. She asked what I wanted, and within no time was complying with every request. My porn fantasies, being acted out on camera, at my behest, not just without question, but with eagerness that I’ve never experienced before. Within days, she was my plaything, wearing different lingerie, sometimes wearing none at all. Every time doing my bidding, and every time turning me on more and more. And as we shared fantasies about what we wanted to do to each other, I spent hours with my cock raging hard, images of her scantily-clad body racing through my mind. But she was so far away, so out of reach – as I wanked myself sore over her pictures and words, I knew it would remain a fantasy. The closest she’d get to my cock would be the pictures I sent her of me naked, the video I took of me coming for her.

Except.

Except that suddenly the distance is closing. We’re rushing towards each other, hurtling – the closing speed creating a blur, everything out of focus, until we collide.

And suddenly, after all the words, all the pictures, all the talk of kissing, licking, squeezing, caressing, stroking, rubbing, sucking and fucking – suddenly we’re there, in the same room. Her eyes sparkle as I arrive, her wild tousled hair full of fire, her soft lips smiling as I move close and push my lips onto hers, kissing her hard, unexpectedly, my tongue flicking across her lips. Startled, but eyes sparkling, she sits, her blouse unbuttoned to the high waist of her pencil skirt, awarding me a perfect view of her pretty lace bra and neat, pert cleavage. My eyes are drawn to her skin and breasts, but dart to her lips, eyes and neck, knowing I can look, but can’t touch – yet. I’ve seen the outfit so many times, sometimes half discarded, sometimes unbuttoned or sometimes the skirt pulled up to reveal the delights beneath, just as I instructed. But now, somehow seeing it there, real, at arm’s-length is so much more arousing – even though most of her sexy body is covered.

We talk, nervously for the first few moments, but tension easing as we both sense that there are no shocks, nothing unexpected, and everything is better than we could have predicted. Our hands occasionally brush one and other; as she plays footsie under the table, and her cool slim fingers trail across my knee, we both glance around, conscious of the risk, but the sensation heightened – every contact savoured, every morsel of skin-on-skin a tiny appetiser.

And before we know it time has outrun us, and the constraints of work and secrecy force us apart again. But not before we steal a kiss – and oh my, what a kiss. Pushed up against her firm body, I feel her breasts pressed to my chest, her needy arms around my waist and my stiff, thumping cock driven up against her navel. We’re closer than we’ve been before, just a thin veil of fabric separating us, our lips pressed together and tongues entwined for an instant. And then we break, both knowing there are too many eyes, and we’ve already gone too far. The want, desire, need reaches a crescendo just at the point where we must part, just at the point where both feel we’re bound together physically by some unseen gravitation hold.

As I walk back to my office, savouring the remnants of her taste, scent and touch, my balls ache and my stiff-for-too-long cock complains about the lack of attention it’s received.

But although we bounced apart today, like all objects attracted by universal forces we’re already being pulled together again, on collision course, at high velocity. And this time, behind closed doors, with clothes shed and breathless excitement, nothing will come between us.

HNT #30

Another Thursday, another picture. I like this shot, the curves of back and shoulders. It’s one of the few times I’ve taken a picture that’s then felt like it should be an HNT, rather than me going out of my way to take a picture specifically for you guys.

HNT #29 – Necking

So, amazingly it’s Thursday and I’m posting a picture.

I have it on good authority that this is a picture that might appeal to the girls amongst my readers. I’m not quite sure why, but perhaps it’s one of those unexplained things – like the fact that I can get hard just by looking at a woman’s hands.

Actually, I say “the girls amongst my readers”, but after the neglect I’ve shown over the last few weeks, it’ll be a wonder if I still have an audience of any gender. I can only apologise and make vague excuses about Christmas, work, etc., but even then I’d be lying. The reason for my lack of written filth is because I’ve been distracted by a particularly sexy correspondent. It was she who suggested this picture should be an HNT, so curse her complicity.

I am determined to write though, so will endeavour to release some sexual tension here, rather than spilling it in private (so-to-speak)…..

Happy New Year

So, 2009 didn’t quite shape up how I planned. But some interesting last-minute developments mean that 2010 has the potential to be the sexiest I’ve had for years. I’m looking forward to it with relish… and a big fat hard-on.

Bring it on. I’m begging for the next 12 months. See you on the other side….

Timing

We didn’t have long.

She’d ditched her boyfriend and I’d just nipped out of the office to meet her briefly. We walked into Starbucks and drank coffee, talking about mundane things like life and work. Just two colleagues catching up.

But all the time you could feel it, crackling under the surface, rolling around like a thunderstorm about to crash open. Little comments, euphamisms and innuendo, slipped into the conversation easily and softly, like the coarse brown sugar in our coffee – pausing briefly as they settled, before slipping down beneath the surface, sparkling eyes meeting for a split-second before wandering the room again in faux ambivalence. We didn’t touch, cautiously keeping fingers at a distance as if we might generate a spark.

After a few minutes of rolling the chocolatey foam around the bottom of her cup, she looked straight at me.

“It doesn’t change anything “

“Really?”, I countered, “are you sure?”

“Of course. He’s nice, but I prefer you. And besides, now we’re even.” she purred.

I laughed. “You’re so bad. At least I don’t send my wife off on some spurious shopping trip while I meet you…”

As my sentence tailed off, she looked at her watch.

“Shit.”

“How long?”

“About ten minutes. We’d better go.”

“You’re being over-cautious, aren’t you?”, I quizzed, looking perplexed.

“Not GO…”, she laughed. “I mean ‘go’…”

She jumped off the chair and I followed, watching the swing of her hips as her 3″ heels clacked on the hard floor. As we disappeared into the gloom outside she turned down the alley a few yards along the street. About halfway in she ducked into the black recess of a doorway, disappearing from view.

As I caught up, she grabbed the lapel of my coat, pulling me roughly to her, bringing my lips down onto hers as her hand slid betweed my coat and pushed against my cock, already stiff and straining at my trousers.

“Seriously?”, I asked, as her tongue filled my mouth and her fingers slipped into my now-unzipped fly.

“Shut up and fuck me… we don’t have long”, she giggled breathlessly, as her cool fingers eased my cock free and encircled my thick shaft.

As we furiously kissed, I pushed my hand under her skirt, sliding it up to her naked pussy. She giggled again at my small look of surprise, whispering in my ear as my fingers slipped between her sopping lips, and deep into her soaking cunt.

“I’m a devious little slut, but I needed you. Now give me your cock.”

Her arms wound around my neck, and she deftly lifted herself, legs wrapped around my waist, skirt and coat bunched between us. Holding her firm arse with one hand I guided my cock into her hot little cunt as she let herself slip down onto me. Her heavy breath in my ear, I slammed her back against the wall and thrust deep into her.

“Oh, fuck”, she hissed, “oh fuck yes. Fill me…”, her moan tailing away as my shaft slid in and out of her faster and faster.

And then as she bounced on my hips, she let out a long low moan, and as her climax rocked through her body, her muscles began to clench and spasm around my cock. It was more than I could take, and I exploded inside her, filling her with hot creamy spunk.

“Fuck yes”, she whispered again as I slumped her against the wall. “Just what I needed”.

She delicately dropped to the floor, and scooped the oozing mess from her thigh, licking it eagerly before wiping her hand on her hankie. Grinning, she ran her finger down my still-firm cock, and then straightened her skirt as I zipped myself up.

She looked at her watch.

“Shit, we should go, honey! Yum, that was lovely.”

“The pleasure was mine”, I whispered, kissing her on the cheek delicately, and almost absurdly, after the last few minutes.

“I wonder if he’ll be able to taste you later?” she asked mischievously, smiling that beautiful smile, before heading up the alleyway and disappearing onto the street.

HNT #28

It’s a while since I posted a picture. Technology and lack of opportunity have conspired against me. So even though it’s late (or early) for an HNT I thought I’d go ahead anyway.

Readers can decide for themselves what they think I might have done with my hand shortly after this picture was taken – around 20 minutes later.

Repetition

Lean forward.

Trail your finger slowly down your wide collar and brush your top button, flicking it from the grasp of its buttonhole with a deft, imperceptible twist. The satin drapes forward, revealing the delicate curve of your breast shimmering like cocoa butter in the artificial light. I stare at your satin-trimmed cleavage, and you let me, the swell of your soft breast rising and falling as the intensity my wide-eyed stare causes an eruption to stir deep within your core.

Lean forward.

I trail my finger slowly down your spine and hook it into the waistband of your panties, flicking them deftly over your firm olive cheeks, dropping them to your slightly parted knees. I stare at your glistening lips, running a finger across their slick softness, before guiding my shaft deep into you, its thick heat causing an eruption to stir deep within your core.