I’ve been waiting for today for a long time. Not because of my ‘Y’ is for Your Desire… post, but because I get to use one of my favourite words! Penultimate. Yup, today’s the penultimate post in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. And that means tomorrow is the final post – and won’t I be breathing a huge sigh of relief! So what have I got for you today? A short excerpt from a short story, Your Desire…
Excerpt from Your Desire…
Seeing you standing on the tarmac next to a baby jet makes my pulse race. You’re on the phone but I know the look in your eye as you watch me get out of the car. Your tongue darts between your lips to moisten them. And you look so damned good, tanned and relaxed. I haven’t seen you for a couple of weeks because you were on holiday with your family. With your wife. With Marcia. But I won’t think about that now.
You finish your call.
“Hey beautiful,” you say, holding out a hand to me. “I missed you.”
“Not as much as I missed you,” I say, throwing myself into your arms.
You kiss me passionately, your tongue darting into my mouth, one hand on the back of my head to hold me steady. You don’t care if the driver sees us as he unloads my case. Your most trusted staff members all know you have a mistress. They know who I am, and most of them are generous with their attention to me. Their loyalty lies with you, not with your wife, I think.
“Come on, we can go now,” you say.
You lead me by the hand up the narrow steps and into the private aircraft that belongs to your company. It’s a small corporate jet which only seats four passengers. But that doesn’t matter as we’re the only two. Just us and the pilot and a bottle of champagne.
“Where are we going?” I ask, sinking down into one the luxurious leather seats. I always sit with my back to the open cockpit, you always sit facing me.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” you say with an enigmatic smile.
You love to tease me. I undo two buttons of my blouse to tease you back, stroking the silky fabric away from my décolletage so you catch a glimpse of the oyster chantilly lace beneath. You grunt approvingly and I know you want to reach out and touch it – but the pilot has just told us to fasten our seatbelts. As we taxi down the runway I cross and uncross my legs, letting the soft crepe skirt I’m wearing ride up my thighs. Your eyes are bright. You know I’m wearing no panties, even though you’re not at the right angle to see.
As we hit take-off speed, I slide my hips forward in my seat, as far as the seatbelt will allow, and spread my legs wide for you. With a moan, you kick off one of your loafers and let your bare foot slide up the inside of my calf. You rest it on the lip of my seat, pressing it against my knee, surveying me through half closed eyes. I undo another of my buttons and cup one lacy breast with my hand. I pinch the nipple through the fabric and throw my head back. Your foot slips up my inner thigh and searches out my cunt, so warm and already so wet for you. You wiggle your toes, making me gasp aloud as one of them brushes over my swollen clit.
The engines roar and I feel the g-force as the plane leaves the ground. You keep moving your foot, making me squirm in the seat, but I deliberately hold back on the sensations coursing through me. When the pilot gives us permission to undo the seatbelts, things will get going properly.
“Okay, we’re up now,” the pilot’s voice comes to us over the intercom, though he’s sitting only a few feet away. “You can take off your seatbelts until it’s time to land in approximately an hour and fifty minutes. I trust you’ll enjoy the flight.”
I can hear the knowing tone in his voice but you ignore it and undo your seatbelt straightaway. I snap open the buckle on mine.
“Champagne, babe?”
You withdraw your foot from my between my legs, wiping your glistening toes on the carpet. Then you go to the small fridge at the back of the cabin. At over six foot tall, you can hardly stand up in the tiny jet but a moment later you’re back in your seat with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Watching you wrestle with the cork makes me nervous – what if it pops and smashes through a window or takes out the pilot? But you’re an old pro opening champagne bottles. You simply twist off the cork, keeping your hand over the top of it, and a second later the golden nectar is whispering into the glasses.
We drink quickly. For us two weeks apart is a long time and we’re in a hurry to get down to more than drinking champagne. As soon as my glasses empty, you take it from me and place it on a side table. Then you’re kneeling in front of me, pushing up my skirt and spreading my legs wide again.
“Oh God, look at you. I’ve been dreaming of this for a fortnight, babe.”
Somehow I doubt that. I know you still have sex with your wife. With Marcia. But I also know you prefer it with me. I’m more accommodating, more compliant to your desires than she is. After all, when was the last time she sucked you off?
I slide forward in my seat, this time much further, giving you complete and total access to the warm, dark cleft between my legs. You’re already breathing heavily – I can feel it warm and dewy on the inside of my thighs. You run a finger up and down the centre of my labia, sending a shiver of pleasure up through me, and then your mouth is on me and I gasp. The first time this happened, so many months ago, I looked round, worried at what the pilot might think. But now I don’t care. He takes no notice – he’s too busy flying the plane and it’s happened too many times before for it to be of concern to him.
You push your tongue up inside me, making my hips buck and my breath hitch. You move it slowly upward, swirling gently, licking, sucking and tasting my juices. I want to feel it on my clit so I flex my hips downwards to direct it there. But you know my tricks and you’re going to take your own sweet time. Your hands come round, underneath my buttocks, grasping them and massaging them. It’s all coming together into such a confluence of sensation there’s nothing I can do but whimper and arch my back ready for the climax coming.
At last your mouth reaches my clit and your teeth grasp it as your tongue rasps across its sensitive tip. You pull on it and suck it until I’m squirming in my seat. You manoeuvre one hand to allow your thumb to penetrate my cunt, flexing it up and down, and then I feel another finger, wet with my juices, pushing softly and slowly into my arse. This barrage of incursions finally pushes me over the edge and the first wave of pleasure rolls up through me, making me gasp. You intensify your attentions and my orgasm explodes, making me cry out sharply.
This is what you love to do – to render me helpless, trembling, sweating and crying under your touch, unable to control myself or resist even though we’re in the presence of another person. This isn’t something your wife would let you do in a thousand years. You look up, smiling at me.
“Was it worth the wait, beautiful?”
“Of course,” I say. “I’d wait forever to feel your mouth on me.”
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