London Longing, Lost in Lust

The humid London air clung to me as I stepped off the plane, the scent of rain and exhaust a stark contrast to the sterile confines of the cabin. Four months. Four long months of yearning, of whispered phone calls and pixelated Skype sessions, all building to this moment. Garrett. Just the thought of his name sent a shiver down my spine, a delicious anticipation that threatened to spill over into something far more potent. I was here, back in our shared reality, and the hunger in my stomach roared with the force of a thousand suns.

My friend, Chloe, picked me up from the airport, her own excitement palpable as she dropped me off at our brownstone. Eight-thirty PM. Jet lag battled with the primal urge for connection, but I pushed through, determined to lose myself in the pleasure of our reunion. The scent of his cologne, sandalwood and citrus, hit me before I even opened the door, a reassuring beacon in the encroaching darkness. “Baby, I’m home!” I shouted, the words a desperate plea and a joyous declaration all at once.

Silence. Disappointment pricked at me. He was at work, of course. But the lingering scent, so insistent, so undeniably *him*, suggested otherwise. Following the captivating aroma, I found him in our bedroom, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, naked and waiting. A slow smile spread across his face as I entered, a silent acknowledgment of the intense desire that hung heavy in the air.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as I moved my hand over his sculpted torso, tracing the line of his shoulders, the curve of his back. He simply grinned, a mischievous glint in his green eyes. “I wanted to surprise you,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.

Garrett. Six foot three, a god-given physique that could turn the heads of any woman who crossed his path. Blond, curly hair, perpetually tousled as if he’d just emerged from a passionate encounter. Those piercing green eyes, holding a depth of emotion that both intrigued and overwhelmed me. And the way he looked at me, a mixture of adoration and lust, made my heart pound against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“I’m surprised that you would ever marry me,” I said, my hand lingering on his chest, sucking deeply on his nipples. It was true, a confession whispered on the edge of my breath. He could have had any woman he wanted, a dazzling array of options at his fingertips, yet he had chosen me. It felt both exhilarating and humbling. The heat began to build, a slow, insistent burn that demanded release.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his, the kiss tentative at first, then deepening into something more urgent, more demanding. He responded with equal fervor, his hands exploring my back, my waist, driving me further into the intoxicating pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, I began to remove my clothes, each piece of fabric a small act of surrender, a testament to the overwhelming desire that consumed me. Finally, I stood before him, naked and vulnerable, my body slick with anticipation. He was fully hard, his muscles tense and coiled, ready to unleash the torrent of pleasure that awaited me.

“I’m surprised that you would ever marry me.” I said moving my hand over his body.
“I’m surprised that you would ever marry me.” I said moving my hand over his body.

I rolled onto him, clinging to his chest, kissing deeply, savoring the feel of his skin against mine. The scent of his arousal intensified, mingling with my own, creating a heady cocktail of desire. It wasn’t just about sex; it was about connection, about the raw, uninhibited joy of being completely consumed by another person.

“There are times when you want to do some serious banging,” I thought, “and then other times you just want to make simple, passionate, God-intended, love to your spouse. Today, I didn’t want to just have sex, I wanted to make love to Garrett.”

I shifted my weight, positioning myself to dominate, sitting astride him, pulling his arms around my waist, and anchoring them to the bed. His gaze locked onto mine, a silent acknowledgment of my intention. With a gentle push, I guided his penis into my throbbing and anticipating pussy, the anticipation a tangible force between us. We both moaned, lost in the exquisite sensation of his entry.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to move my hips, rocking back and forth, creating a rhythmic pulse that built the intensity, drawing him deeper into my pleasure. We looked into each other’s eyes, lost in the shared experience, savoring the overwhelming pleasure, feeding off one another's arousal. My wetness grew, a visible testament to the escalating heat, confirming my own readiness for release. I wanted to thrust faster and harder, but I controlled the urge, allowing the pleasure to build organically, intensifying the anticipation.

“Mm-mm, you feel so good, baby,” I whispered, my voice thick with desire, as I kissed him, his turn to turn over, never leaving my womanhood. I was on my back, grabbing his ass with both hands. We rocked forward and back, kissing and letting our hands explore each other’s bodies.

“I love you,” he said to me.

“I love you, too.”

As we went at a steady, slow pace, never speeding up, the anticipation continued to build, culminating in an explosive climax that left us both breathless. The shared pleasure was an intoxicating drug, a potent reminder of the powerful connection we shared.

“Stop, stop, I’m gonna come,” I said out of breath, the intensity of the moment pushing me to the edge.

He pulled out, his hand gently caressing my lower lip. "It’s okay, I don’t mind," he said, his voice a low murmur against my ear.

“No, I want to feel your release inside me," I insisted, my heart pounding in my chest.

He re-entered, and this time, the pleasure was even more intense, more profound. After a couple of strokes, I felt “the feeling” again, a delicious shiver that spread through my body. We stopped, savoring the lingering sensations, the aftermath of our shared ecstasy.

I gently pushed him off, rolling onto my side, and straddling him once more. My face pressed into his neck, I moved my hips slowly back and forth, exploring every inch of his body. The sound of our skin slapping against each other filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that drowned out the outside world. The urge became overwhelming, a primal need that could no longer be denied.

“I’m sorry, baby! I can’t…” I choked out, my body arching in anticipation, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. Still, I continued to stroke him, long, slow strokes that built the tension, pushing me closer to the brink.

“Come for me, come all over my cock,” he urged, his voice a husky plea.

Instinctively, I accelerated, every muscle in my body tightening, propelling me further into the depths of pleasure. Lost in my own world, I felt the intense heat build, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

“Ahhh, I’m gonna come,” I finally cried out, my breath catching in my throat as the climax approached.

And then, FINALLY, it happened. I felt the long-awaited release, the overwhelming sensation of my vaginal walls contracting and releasing, the culmination of our shared desire. The pleasure was exquisite, a torrent of sensation that left me weak and breathless.

“That’s so sexy!” Garrett exclaimed, his voice filled with admiration, as his own release followed a few seconds after.

We rolled off of each other, catching our breath, our cheeks burning and sweat rolling off our chests. I looked at him, his own face flushed with pleasure, and a wave of warmth washed over me.

“We should separate more often,” he said, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“That was…just…wow!” I said, still reeling from the intensity of our encounter, a genuine expression of gratitude for the gift he had given me. I hadn’t fully recovered, but I knew this was just the beginning.

“I love you,” he said, pulling me close and kissing me deeply, a silent promise of more to come.

“I love you, too. And I really love you,” I whispered, pointing to his now receding member. We pulled the covers over us, seeking solace in each other's arms, and as I drifted off to sleep, I thanked God for the gift of my man and the exquisite pleasure he brought to my life. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a testament to the enduring power of desire, a reminder that sometimes, the most profound experiences come when we simply surrender to the moment and allow ourselves to be consumed by the pleasure of the flesh.

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London Longing, Lost in Lust

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