He pinned my wrists above my head and held me up against the wall. He kissed me with force, but he was slow. I felt him smile and shyly smiled back against the brush of his lips.

We shouldn’t be doing this. This could be very bad. But he felt good. And without knowing me he suddenly knew exactly what I wanted and how I wanted him.

We had shared nothing more than the common greeting gestures for the four months leading up to this. A “good morning” here, a “have a good night” there, and sometimes the “you’re food smells great” with nothing to say in return because all attempts at communication had left me blushing and stuttering.

But now he was pressing me up against the wall just inside my apartment. His free hand, the one that wasn’t holding my wrists, had moved from my back up to my neck as he kissed me harder. His thumb traced the length of my neck, my heart beating faster.

I broke free of his grip. Now I could touch him, explore him; show him just how much I wanted him. I pulled him closer so he pressed against me. I moaned as I felt how hard he was for this. I didn’t want to wait any longer.

It had been months of growing tension and not being able to do anything, not being in the right moment to say anything or test if our feelings were mutual. He pulled me away from the wall. This was the moment we were going to walk to my bedroom, lips still attached, and all of our muscles pulling each other closer.

Being nearly a foot shorter than him, I hated this. And as I tried to walk backwards on my tippy-toes, entangled with him, I lost my balance and fell to the floor ever so gracefully. At least I was down on my knees at perfect height to put him in between the tautness of my lips and stroke him with my tongue.

But he pulled me up instead and wised to the idea of carrying me to the room. I nibbled at his neck, letting him hear how quick my breathing was.

He didn’t close the door to the bedroom. It didn’t seem to bother him that my roommate could walk in at any time. I wasn’t going to object. What we needed, we needed now and walking away to ensure the safety of the scene would take away from the heat.

He put me down and stared into my eyes. He unbuttoned my shirt and I shivered at the touch of his knuckles against my stomach. I wanted to feel his warmth. I didn’t need him to be gentle with my shirt or me. I groaned with impatience and un-tucked his shirt pulling it above his head.

My fingers brushed down his oblique’s and kissed his shoulder. My tongue creating a path from my kiss to the bite on the strength of his arm. I started to kneel as I begged to take control and reached to unbuckle his belt but he stopped me…again.

He placed his hand beneath my jaw and drew my gaze up to him. He leaned down to kiss me sucking on my bottom lip. He was driving me crazy, and he knew it very well.

He placed his palm on my chest pushing me down until I was lying on my suede-padded bench. I wasn’t supposed to move. He took off his belt and khakis. He didn’t remove his tight Joe Boxer boxers though. He was just giving me a preview of himself bulging through the cotton.

My eyes met his. He knew how hungry I was. I let out a faint giggle as he moved towards me lowering his body above mine. With my frustration I lifted my chest, my breasts still trapped beneath my teal bra.

I needed his hands on me. I needed to feel all of his ridges. He put one hand behind my head and pulled me back down. His mouth started to explore my body biting my abdomen and tracing my curves. I writhed underneath his teasing.

I wanted to play this my way, but he couldn’t know all I can do. Not yet. If this was just a one time tasting there was only so much I could do. But if he wanted all my tricks this would be a continuing affair.

If he wanted to fuck me on my bench I’m sure I could get him in one of our cars for a much desired stress reliever during a late lunch. He wouldn’t take off my panties though. And every time I tried to reach for him and feel his thickness, he pulled away.

He was taking his time. But I was ready, I’ve been ready. I’ve imagined this moment whenever I heard his voice for just a few seconds. I wanted to hear him moan beneath my grip. I wanted to feel how robust he was taking me anyway he wanted.

I heard the apartment door jiggle and whimpered. This would have to wait even longer. And before he laid his head on my stomach in frustration, he ran to close my bedroom door. He looked up to catch the disappointment in my face. He kissed me and whispered “don’t worry, I’ll get you undressed soon.”

I let my head fall back and relaxed my body. If he only knew that the concept of patience did not exist in my life. There would be a next time and I would get my chance to play.

 

Originally Published: October 24, 2015