I heard her stifle a moan, then I knew it was my chance. We’d avoided this moment for months; months and now, it finally came, we both felt the hunger.
She clutched my shirt, I made to pull away to take it off; she held me in a firm grasp. I let her.
I worked her neckline with my tongue, as I pulled her to me. I kissed her nipples softly and laid her on the tiled floor. She moaned and budged her waist and wriggled her legs tightly in between my thighs.
I unhooked her bra, while working my mouth around her thighs; she writhed in pains—but she wanted more. She begged to be tortured more, and I felt no guilt at all.
My palms caressed her thighs; walking its way up to her down area. I stopped half-way, letting her raise her hips to meet my shaft. She was wet underneath and everything in her craved for my cumming. Her body began to convulse; she was ready for my cumming, but I delayed.
Like the Messiah, I delayed a while, just to test her faith, her faith in my powers—I was the only baba with her cure, she told me herself. I bent and kissed her lips, nibbling a bit at her lower lip.
I think I bit her a little hard and she pulled me down, as if to say ‘end my misery’. Yet I wasn’t ready.
I slid in slowly and withdrew, rubbing my member against her inner thighs. I kissed her belly-button as I trailed it to her wet pussy.
I sucked her throbbing clit and she writhed in pleasure. I slid in again and this time, I went faster and harder—it was her usual dosage. She pulled at her wig and yanked it off in a confused state.
With legs thrown wide apart, she bent to pull me inside, deeper. I followed her lead, how could I not? I had drawn the format for this day. It was clearly preparation meeting opportunity, isn’t that how they said it?
I slid out deflated. I knew when she reached her peak because she gasped and smiled. She laid her head on my groin, mumbling silly nothings.
I collapsed on the bed, clearly tire. I noticed the patches on the plastered roof—the roof needed maintenance, I thought to myself. My eyes riveted to her G-string panties hanging loosely on my storage cart; I had thrown it there in a fit of passion. I grinned.
I woke up hours later, and she was gone. All I had was a whiff of her and the sour smell of semen mixed with sweat; the stench was awful. But it was the sweat and smell of lovemaking.