Three Days' Hunger, Sweet Return

The ten-hour drive felt like an eternity, each mile stretching the anticipation taut within me. Three days away had done their insidious work, twisting my desires into a coiled spring eager to unleash. I'd fantasized about our shared rhythms countless times, revisiting our favorite positions, savoring the heat, the touch, the complete surrender. It was a well-worn ritual, a secret pleasure amplified by the separation. The thought of seeing her again, of being enveloped in her scent and her warmth, was a potent aphrodisiac in itself.

Finally, the familiar turn onto our street brought a surge of adrenaline. The house loomed ahead, bathed in the pale light of a predawn sky. Five AM. The air hung thick and humid, clinging to my skin as I approached the door. It swung open almost immediately, revealing her silhouette against the dim interior. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, but it quickly dissolved as she retreated back to the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

I took a quick, cleansing shower, the hot water doing little to ease the feverish anticipation that consumed me. As I stepped out, damp and energized, I found her still nestled beneath the covers, looking peaceful, almost oblivious. It was a calculated moment, a chance to build the tension, to savor the moment before the inevitable explosion. I waited, letting the urge simmer, observing her subtle movements, noting the slight rise and fall of her chest. It was a delicate dance of restraint and desire.

Slowly, deliberately, I moved towards her side of the bed. My gaze drifted downwards, lingering on her lips, then tracing the curve of her breasts, remembering the exquisite pleasure of caressing their warmth. The memory of our last encounter, the insistent need that followed, flashed through my mind. I knew I couldn't hold it back any longer. This had become a predictable pattern, a reliable source of intense pleasure, and the anticipation only served to heighten the excitement.

I reached out, gathering my strength, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead. It was a small gesture, a silent acknowledgment of my intentions, but it felt like a challenge, a test of her awareness. I waited, holding my breath, observing her reaction. She remained asleep, her face serene, unaware of the storm brewing within me. It was frustrating, a cruel tease, but I refused to yield.

With renewed determination, I gently wrapped my hand around her, my fingers intertwining with her hair, and placed another kiss on her forehead. This time, a faint stirring beneath the covers caught my attention. Had she moved? Was she finally stirring from her slumber? My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing their beautiful, bright depths. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly followed by a hesitant smile. Was she angry? Disappointed? The uncertainty was agonizing. She leaned closer, her gaze searching mine, and then, to my immense relief, she leaned in for a kiss. It was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened, becoming more insistent, more demanding.

As she pulled back, her hands instinctively moved to my body, drawing me closer. I relaxed, letting go of the tension, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of her touch. The kiss repeated, more passionate this time, fueled by the hours of suppressed desire. I responded in kind, deepening the embrace, reveling in her warmth. It was an unspoken agreement, a shared understanding of the pleasure that awaited.

I shifted my position, turning towards her, and began to rub my stone-hard member against her soft thigh. The sensation was immediate, electrifying, sending shivers down my spine. I angled my face to let my warm breath tickle her earlobes, teasing her senses, heightening her arousal. For a moment, I wasn't sure if she was aware of my intentions, but the slight tremor in her body betrayed her excitement.

As I continued my exploration, my thoughts raced, anticipating the inevitable climax. The air crackled with unspoken desires, the scent of arousal hanging heavy in the room. It was a dangerous game, a delicate balance between restraint and indulgence, but I was determined to push the boundaries, to explore the depths of our shared pleasure.

Suddenly, she opened her eyes wide, her gaze intense and focused. She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine, and then, without warning, she gave me a French kiss, a passionate, demanding assault on my senses. My blood pounded in my ears, my muscles tensed, and my mind raced with anticipation. I was wrong; she was awake, and she was ready.

My member hardened instantly, responding to her touch, her scent, her desire. She began caressing it gently, holding it upwards, teasing me with her touch. It was an invitation, a challenge, and I couldn't resist. I relaxed, letting go of the last vestiges of restraint, and began to playfully nibble and bite her right earlobe. The sensation was exquisite, a burning pleasure that intensified my arousal. The heat spread through my body, igniting a fire within me.

For what felt like an eternity, we continued our sensual dance, her hands pulling me closer, drawing me deeper into her embrace. Her breasts, plump and sweet, were a constant temptation, a visual feast that fueled my desire. I began to feast on them, applying my mouth in a pattern that I knew she loved most, moving my tongue in circles around her nipple base, letting the tip of my tongue graze her sensitive skin. I slowed my pace, teasing her, only to increase the pressure, licking more firmly, savoring every moment.

As she grew more aroused, her movements became more urgent, her grip stronger. She began dragging my penis towards her vagina, pulling me closer, demanding my attention. At first, she merely pulled my back, forcing my face to remain pressed against her breasts. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her arousal, sent shivers down my spine.

Then, she increased the pressure, pulling me inside, forcing me to enter her. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to consume me. Her body arched in response, her breathing becoming ragged and shallow. It was a perfect synchronization, a testament to the power of our shared desire.

As I explored her depths, she moaned softly, her voice a whispered invitation. I responded with a groan of my own, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of the moment. Her hand traveled up my shaft, caressing me with a gentle, insistent touch. It was a signal, a command, and I obeyed without hesitation.

With a final, desperate thrust, I released, a surge of pure, unadulterated pleasure erupting from my body. We clung to each other, breathless, laughing, lost in the aftermath of our shared experience.

As the initial frenzy subsided, I reached for some wet wipes, gently cleaning her up, offering her comfort and reassurance. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the perfect ending to a night of unparalleled pleasure, a promise of more to come. The lingering scent of arousal filled the room, a reminder of the intense connection we shared, a testament to the magic that happens when desire takes hold.

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