Deadline Desire (L)

The rain hammered against the windows of the small apartment, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. Three weeks. Three relentless weeks of double classes, Michael’s mounting shop woes, and the desperate yearning for connection that threatened to consume us both. The honeymoon phase, as they called it, had long evaporated, leaving behind a residue of frustration and a gnawing need for something more. Just a few days ago, we’d managed a hurried, desperate encounter before dawn, but even that brief spark had dwindled, leaving me feeling raw and unfulfilled.

The insistent thump of footsteps against the hardwood floor jolted me from my thoughts. Michael. He was home early, which was unusual. As I crept down the hallway, the unmistakable scent of shattered ceramic filled the air, followed by a guttural curse that cut through the humid night. I found him in the kitchen, his face a mask of anger and defeat as he surveyed the remnants of a broken mug. The shop was clearly the source of his frustration, but it didn’t excuse his outburst.

I moved silently behind him, my hand reaching out to press against his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingertips. As he began to scrub his hands at the sink, I slipped my hands beneath his shirt, my nails digging into the taut flesh of his midriff. It wasn’t the gentle exploration I craved, but a primal urge, a need to touch him, to connect, that drove me forward. My fingers climbed over his toned belly and chest, finding purchase on the hard, rising peaks of his nipples. They hardened instantly, responding to my touch with a sharp, insistent heat.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, turning slightly, his voice thick with exhaustion. But it was too late. My shush was barely audible, yet he instinctively stilled his words as I brought one hand down over the throbbing, swollen head of his cock, straining within the confines of his jeans. A giggle escaped my lips, a nervous sound that betrayed my own burgeoning excitement. With a quick, decisive movement, I pulled his pants down, then knelt before him, my gaze locked on the exposed length of his member.

The sight of it, so raw and vulnerable, sent a wave of longing through me. It had been too long, far too long. I’d missed the feel of it against my palm, the heat, the weight, the promise of pleasure. I slowly reached out, wrapping my hand around it, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath my fingertips. A sigh escaped my lips, a release of pent-up desire. Looking up at Michael, I took him slowly into my mouth, my tongue tracing the contours of his shaft, savoring every inch.

He moaned, a low, guttural sound, clutching the edge of the sink behind him as I swallowed, my throat working to contain the heat that surged through my body. Humming deep, appreciative notes, I sent a gentle vibration through his cock, escalating the pleasure. When I pulled back, his face was flushed, his eyes glazed over with anticipation.

“Mmm, I love your cock, baby,” I murmured, my voice husky with pleasure. “I especially love to feel it right here.” Parting my thighs, I began to slowly, deliberately rub my pussy against his leg, drawing attention to the spot he was eager to please. I could see the indecision in his eyes, the struggle between his weariness and his desire. He needed a little more encouragement, a little more push. Continuing to finger my clit, I intensified my ministrations, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I built the tension. Soon, his hands moved to my head, stroking my hair with increasing urgency, then down my breasts, before rolling us to our sides and pulling my knee to his waist. Cupping my upper tit in his palm, he suckled none too gently at its nipple, teasing me with the anticipation of what was to come.

The sensation was both deeply relaxing and electrifying, a potent combination that left me trembling. My hips tightened and relaxed, lightly rubbing my pussy against his thigh as I fought against my mounting arousal. By the time he reached the top of my mound, my fingers intertwined in his hair, I was consumed by a desperate need for release. I could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting, threatening to overwhelm me.

“Michael… baby, please…” I whispered, my voice choked with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate. His open-mouthed chuckle ended with my entire vulva surrounded by his lips. Sucking in his cheeks, he ran the flat of his tongue firmly up and down my slit, rasping against my clit at the top of each stroke. His hands gripped the sides of my thrashing hips, and my rising cries seemed to fuel his intensity; he kept up the onslaught until my body erupted in a bone-shaking orgasm.

“Yeeeeessssss! YES!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face, a mix of pleasure and relief. The sheer intensity of the experience left me breathless, spent, and utterly satisfied.

My contentment was short-lived. When he stood to stretch, I saw that his cock had regained full strength, and instantly, the familiar ache returned. I turned onto my stomach in front of that beautiful erection, my body practically begging for attention. Without hesitation, Michael slid his cock along my expectantly extended tongue, his fingers wrapping around the back of my head from both sides, making sweet love to my mouth. Whenever I rolled my eyes up to his face, the dark intensity of his gaze told me how very good I was at pleasing him this way—not that he’d ever given me a reason to doubt it. And this time, I knew there would be no surprises.

But despite how much I loved serving him this way, my pussy started to ache to finally feel him inside me. After several minutes, I placed a hand against the front of his hip to signal a break. Then, pulling back onto all fours, I turned around and presented my backside.

“What?” Michael asked playfully, knowing full well what I needed now.

“Please, Michael, give it to me. Fuck me, baby. Fuck m—Aaaahh!!!”

Michael slammed deep into me, my orgasm-primed pussy taking him easily to the hilt. Without pause, he began to thrust, and the feeling of his cock stretching me and sounding the depths of my cavern was… just… everything!

But for his commanding hands, I’d be out of control. Sometimes pushing back to meet his pounding hips, sometimes on my face and clawing at the sheets, I took everything he’d give me—even several sharp slaps to my buttocks that I enjoyed more than I’d feel comfortable admitting tomorrow. All the while, animalistic sounds and unintelligible words burned their way out of my throat, driving us both to our limit.

At long last, Michael’s long, powerful strokes ripped another orgasm—completely different from yet just as overwhelming as the first—from my core. My body quaked as his fingers dug into my hips, and he erupted with me. He thrust several more times, his hot cum filling me and flowing out around his cock each time he pulled back. The sensation of him fucking my cum-filled pussy set off an aftershock in me. The clasping squeeze around his cock triggered one last thrust of his hips, followed by a shudder.

We’ll be so tired tomorrow, I know. But God, thank you! We both needed that.

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