Weekend Rendezvous: The Long Wait Ends

The rain hammered against the windows of our small, secluded cabin, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my own pulse. It had been weeks since Mark left for his extended work assignment, and the silence of the house, once filled with his easy laughter and the scent of his aftershave, now pressed down on me like a suffocating weight. But the longing, the raw, insistent need for his touch, had only intensified with each passing day. Saturday and Sunday had been a desperate attempt to fill the void, a frantic scramble to recapture the intimacy we’d lost. Now, with his departure looming, I felt a desperate urgency to satisfy myself before he left, to burn away the last vestiges of longing, to leave no room for regret.

As he packed his bags on Sunday afternoon, a strange detachment settled over me. The passion we’d been indulging in felt hollow, like a beautiful, empty shell. When he turned to me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, I realized this wasn't the enthusiastic welcome he'd given me just hours before. “You want something?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Just a little while,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. I knew what he meant, the unspoken agreement we'd forged over the past few weeks. It was time for a final, desperate plea for connection.

I stripped down, pulling on a soft, white lace negligee that clung to my curves as I lay on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling over the side. I positioned myself carefully, my legs spread wide, inviting his touch. A plush, microfiber bathmat lay on the bed, a small attempt at order amidst the chaos of our passion. A thin, wooden pillow rested beneath his knees, a silent offering of comfort.

He moved slowly, deliberately, as if measuring his words, his actions. He buckled his belt, the metallic click echoing in the sudden quiet of the room. “I can’t promise anything,” he said, his gaze fixed on my body. “My mind is elsewhere.”

“Then let me take care of it,” I challenged, my voice laced with a desperate plea. “Don’t you want to fulfill me?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a flicker of the man I knew, the man I craved. He slowly lowered himself onto the bed, the soft fabric rustling against my skin. His touch was tentative at first, a gentle exploration of my body. He ran his hands over my breasts, then my stomach, then down my hips, each movement a slow, deliberate build-up. It wasn't the fiery passion I'd experienced before, but something deeper, something primal.

As he began to tease, my body responded instinctively, my breathing quickening, my pulse accelerating. He moved his hand across my clitoris, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down my spine. “You’re good,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Very good.”

I arched my back, pulling him closer, my legs wrapping around his waist, trapping him against the bed. I pushed him down, forcing him to meet me halfway. He buckled his belt, the sound now a rhythmic accompaniment to our escalating desire. “Let me see your hands,” I whispered, my voice thick with anticipation.

He complied, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of my clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through me. “Oh, my God,” I moaned, my body convulsing with each touch. “Yes, yes, right there. Ohhhhhhh, mama, ohhhhh. Damn, your good!”

He deepened his touch, his fingers digging deeper into my clitoris, ignoring my moans of pleasure, as he continued to tease. I grabbed his head, pulling his face down to meet mine, my legs wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him closer. I covered his face with my juices, a silent declaration of my overwhelming pleasure.

“Ohhhhhhh, yes, yes. Fuuuckkkk!” I cried out, my voice choked with emotion. “You are making me insane!”

He let out a groan of pleasure, responding to my words, his grip tightening around my waist. He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my skin, tasting the moisture that clung to my body. He then plunged his tongue deep into my wetness, holding it there as he shook his head side to side, grinding it deeper.

“Ohhhhhh, fuuuuck, I’m cumming!” I shrieked, unable to contain my mounting excitement. “You got anything else for me?”

Before I could finish my question, he ripped off his shirt, his gaze locked on mine. He mounted me, his weight pressing down on my body, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer. At first, he only grazed my clitoris, teasing me with the promise of more. “Slowly,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “Let me savor the anticipation.”

But I couldn’t stand the wait. I thrust my hands against his back, pulling him forward, demanding more. He obliged, his cock entering me with a powerful thrust, a sharp stab of pleasure that sent me reeling. We both gasped, our breath catching in our throats.

“Oh. My. God! Baby, I’ve gotta have it all! Oh, give it to me, pleeeeaaassseee! I need that big hard cock. Please fill me up? Give it to me! Please fuck your horny bitch—Now!” I cried out, my voice raw with desire.

As he pounded my pussy, I clung to him, gripping his ass tightly, pulling him closer, desperate to feel his presence, his heat. The world narrowed down to the feel of his body against mine, the rhythm of his thrusts, the taste of his sweat. He started those slow, deep strokes, licking and kissing my nipples, then my neck, then my face. It was an exquisite torture, a slow, deliberate act of seduction.

“Ohhhhhhh baby, oh baby, oh God! This feels too incredible,” I wailed, unable to tear my eyes away from his face.

He buried his face in my muff, thrusting his tongue deep, holding it there as he shook his head side to side, grinding it deeper. “Ohhhhhh, fuuuuck, I’m cumming!” I shrieked again, my body writhing in ecstasy.

As I climaxed, I rolled him over, pulling myself onto his chest, cowgirl style. He began to thrust upward, targeting my A-spot, sending waves of pleasure rippling through my entire body. "You are really proud of yourself, making me make such a mess," I laughed, breathless and exhilarated. As he laughed, a massive orgasm hit me, sending me into a fit of uncontrollable moans.

“Ohhhhhhh. Fuuuuuck! Mmmmmm, ohhhhh, ahhhhhhhhhh.” I gasped, clutching his face, desperate for more.

Then, I demanded he stimulate my pleasure point with the firefly glass wand. He obliged, expertly navigating my body, reaching every inch, every nerve ending. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost unbearable. We continued this intense, frenzied session for what felt like an eternity, lost in a world of pure sensation. Finally, as my body began to calm, he held me close, licking the last few drops from the tip of his cock, a silent acknowledgment of our shared experience.

As he prepared to leave, I realized I couldn't let him go without one last, desperate plea. “You know,” I said, my voice soft and pleading, “I can’t let you leave town until you milk me dry. After all, you deserve a great send-off!” And with that, I thanked God for the gift of this magnificent man, promising him my unwavering love and devotion. The thought of his return filled me with anticipation, a promise of another weekend filled with passion and pleasure.

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