Nervously, he glanced around the room. Another hotel, chosen for its vagueness, and its un-remarkability. It was cheap, and yet sufficient; A bed, a desk, a small room with a shower. The carpet was a faded blue, the walls an old cream. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers rested on the stale fabric of the quilt.
Silence, and yet more silence. His heart hammered. His head full of doubts and fears. What if she didn't come? What if it had all been a mistake? Over and over, around and around, the thoughts tumbled.
And so, he sat, waiting.
He closed his eyes, and flopped back on the bed. Memories over took him, he remembered her hair, the feel of her hand in his. He remembered the way she smiled, and the laughter of her voice. She was older then he was, with two kids and a husband. He was Twenty-Four, single, wanting something more with someone closer to his age, and yet something about those eyes had captivated him. They met while he was working with her company for a few weeks. The attraction had been instant, though neither knew why. Perhaps it was the smile, or the humour. Perhaps it was the conversation, or perhaps it was purely a physical attraction. Whatever the reason, the tension was noticeable. Even a few of their colleagues joked, but no one expected anything. Neither did he, till the last weekend, when during a group social she had made the offer.
Her husband was away on work, kids with family. Did he want to come over for Chinese and a cheesy film that night? When he noticed she didn't invite anyone else, he kept quiet. He knew the reason. Later that evening, after a long shower and a shave, he began to think through the implications of what the night may bring.
And so then, just like now, he sat, and waited.
When he got to her house that night, they walked together to the local Chinese to pick up the food. That much had been true. As they walked back they shared stories, laughing. Settling in the living room, they began to eat, movie forgotten, conversation filling the air. Slowly, the flirting began and the tension began to mount.
When she stood to show him pictures on the computer from the social earlier, he stood behind her. One of his hands gently stroked her neck. When she leaned back against him, her body pressed against his, his arms instinctively wrapped around her. His mouth found her neck, and she let out a long, low, sigh. Standing behind her, his hands roamed her body, her hands reaching back and cupping his head, as his lips danced against her neck. When he finally dared to cup her breasts, her arousal became audible. Suddenly, she turned, and they kissed, long and hard. Their tongues danced against each-others, bodies melding together. When the kiss broke, she took his hand and led him upstairs.
The curtains were closed, making the room cool compared to the heat of the day. They fell on the bed, laughter giving way to lust, lust giving strength to passion. As they kissed, hands roamed, clothes were removed and what was hidden was revealed.
When her bra finally fell, he sat and stared in wonder. Her breasts were large, full, a little sag, but beautiful. Her nipples were erect, hard, and when he lowered his mouth they seemed to taste sweet. Laid on the bed, her eyes closed, her mouth open, as she enjoyed the sensations. He realised just how beautiful she was.
Smiling, he leaned over and once again. He resumed sucking on her breast, first, one nipple, then the other. Eager to make sure her other nipple was not neglected; his hand toyed, teased and twisted it. As she moaned, his hands wandered from breast down to her waistband, pushing under the skirt.
His fingers grazed across the fabric of her panties. Gently, he began to stroke her slit through the material, as he continued to suck on her nipples. Her hands ran through his hair and over his back. Her breathing became more urgent, her actions more insistent.
“You’re teasing me,” she panted, and he smiled then.
