Something Before You Go

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It had been a long, aggravating week. No real disasters, it was just that everything was a chore, and nothing went smoothly. The only blessing was that it went by quickly, and we were free for the weekend. Or so I thought.

Saturday’s agenda got changed from a leisurely morning dedicated to waking each other with kisses and caresses, to the alarm clock’s dream shattering whine waking both of us too early. A surprise luncheon had been hastily arranged for you when it was learned that a friend had decided to skip a formal wedding and was leaving Saturday night to get married in Vegas. And we had been so busy relieving each other of the week’s stresses Friday night, you hadn’t the time nor the inclination to leave the house, for shopping or otherwise. So, that left Saturday morning for you to rush around picking up a gift and make it to the restaurant for lunch. In your usual capable style, you allowed yourself plenty of time to get ready and on the road.

The shrieking of the alarm was barely silenced by my love tap that threatened to drive it through the nightstand, before you rolled out of bed and started moving. I groaned when my arm found the bed next to me still warm, but empty. Slitting one eye open, I looked across the rumpled sheets towards the door, just in time to watch your deliciously rolling ass disappear towards the bath. Squeezing my eyes shut, I murmured under my breath. “Son of a bitch.” While Friday had been a tumult of passion and release, I was hoping to wake up with you on Saturday to a slow, soft, languid morning of making love, feeding each other breakfast, and falling back into bed for our version of brunch. “aaaaaaAHH!” I snarled, finding the warmth and luxury of the bed little comfort without you to share it.

Rolling over, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. Rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands, I quickly cleared the sleep from my head, and got up. Taking a pair of old, comfortable sweats with the elastic cut from the cuffs, I slipped them over my naked body, and padded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen. As I passed the bathroom door, the sound of the rushing shower painted an image of you before my mind’s eye. It was easy to imagine the sheen of your wet skin as the water massaged your lush body. For a moment, I hesitated, the blood beginning to fill me at even just this suggestion of your naked body, but I sighed, and went into the kitchen. Knowing your loyalty to your friends and your conscientious nature, I wanted to make it as easy as possible for you to get going. Opening the fridge, I took out the canister full of coffee beans. This was for me, not for you. The smell and the taste of freshly ground coffee gushing from the machine is something I do for me, since you don’t drink the evil black stuff. Pouring the beans into the grinder, I then hit the button, the whir of the machine like a starting gun. I was racing your shower, and I wanted everything to be ready when you walked into the kitchen.

You’re not a big breakfast fan, but I didn’t want you going out on an empty stomach. We have had this discussion more than a few times, coming to an unspoken agreement that if I was nice enough to make you something light, you would be nice enough to eat some of it. Going again to the fridge, I opened the door and slid one of the bottom drawers out. Taking out half of a Saran wrapped cantaloupe, I also hooked the container of orange juice. As a concession to you, I also grabbed a box of Brown ‘N’ Serve breakfast sausages. Shaking my head, I grabbed some hardboiled eggs for me, and kicked the door shut with my heel, and turned to the counter next to the stove. Laying out the food, I was urged to greater speed by the sudden silence from the bathroom. Growling under my breath as I pictured you stepping from the tub, naked and glistening in the steam from the shower, I hurried to get things ready. You’re not a primper, but you do take pride in your appearance, and I do too. Take pride in YOUR appearance, that is. Personally, if people don’t like how I look, they can kiss my faded-denim covered ass. I do, however, appreciate the way you dress and the wonderful confidence you have in your sense of style. I knew that I had time, just not a lot of it. Knowing you, your entire wardrobe had been selected yesterday, and there wouldn’t be any hemming and hawing over what to wear.

Working quickly, I slid plates out pendik escort of the cabinet above the sink, and began to assemble breakfast. The sausages (shudder) went onto a paper towel on one of the plates and into the microwave for three minutes on high. I sliced the cantaloupe into wedges and then skinned those out. My baby didn’t have time to be messing around with rind that morning. The thought of your lips on the melon wedge, full and wet on the juicy, orange flesh didn’t make me any happier about our change in plans, but I muttered and pressed on.

Popping the plates on the table, I poured the juice into glasses, placed the silverware beside the plates as your footsteps sounded in the hall. Just before you entered the kitchen, the microwave dinged, and I turned to get the sausages. Taking the hot plate from the carousel, I “ouched” and “damned” as I shuffled the plate from one hand to the other. Real men don’t use potholders. Rattling the plate to the counter, I ripped a paper towel from the roll and patted what grease I could from the little, brown cholesterol bullets. Resigning myself to your taste in breakfast fare, I moved to put them on your plate.

Turning to the table, I froze. Oh my. You take my breath away. Your long blonde hair, still damp from the shower, clung wetly to your shoulders, the long strands framing your beautiful face. Your full lips were pulled up into a brilliant, welcoming smile, a smile reflected in your eyes, bright and lovely. You laughed at my big, goofy grin. You walked to me, brushed the plate out of the way, as you put your arm around my waist, stood tiptoe and lit up my world with a tender kiss. Your full, soft lips, the delicious smell of you, the way you rest your smooth palm on my naked chest. I’m not made of stone, but a part of me began an attempt at an imitation. You didn’t even have to look, as you said, “Don’t start, big fella. I have to get going.” You took the plate from me, and left me standing there as you turned away.

“It’s ready, baby.” Hope flared within me, and I moved up behind you, reached my arms around your slender waist and drew you into me. Laughing, you laid your head back against my chest, and said, “I meant the coffee, doofus.” I dipped my head, pressed my lips to your neck and murmured, “I knew that, but a man can dream.” You reached back over your shoulder, your fingers caressing my neck. The laughter was gone from your voice as you said regretfully, “I know, baby, but I have to do this. I’ll be back early, but I have to go.” I sighed and kissed you as you craned your head back at me. Our lips met briefly, and then I let you go.

I waited as you sat down, and then slid the sausages onto your plate. “Mmmmm”, you hummed hungrily as you snapped one in half and bit into it, relishing it. “Eeeyuk”, I thought to myself, as I watched you devour the greasy morsel. But, I keep my thoughts to myself, happy that you’re getting any breakfast. You bit off a piece of melon, your wrinkled up expression letting me know “There, I had fruit, too, Mr. Nutrition.” I chuckled, and got my eggs from the counter. Sliding into the chair around the corner of the table from you, I leaned over to get another kiss. You pressed your mouth to mine, as greedy to taste me as if I was more to eat.

The sticky sweetness of the cantaloupe, the spicy oiliness of the sausage, and the tang of the orange juice all combined on your lips, tempting me to eat you up, luncheon or not. Your jaws worked as you kissed me, letting me enjoy the soft hunger of your lips. Breaking the kiss, you began eating again, hurrying. “Slow down, Speedo, you’re gonna get gas”, I cautioned. Sticking your tongue out at me, you crammed another sausage into your mouth, “um, um, um”, squeezed your eyes shut to show me you were in piggy heaven, and licked your lips. One more quick kiss, and then you pushed yourself back from the table, announcing, “Gotta go, sweet thing.” As you stood up, I noticed for the first time what you were wearing. And right then, things got complicated.

Some women are flattered by the clothes they wear. You flatter the clothes you wear. I reached out quickly, my thumb and finger encircling your wrist. “Wait, angel, let me look at you.” You stopped, and lit up the room again with your beautiful smile. I drank in the sight of you. You chose a simple, white long sleeved blouse, the top three buttons undone, the cuffs folded over once, maltepe escort loose and free. Your breasts pushed the material away from your body, your satiny, white bra peeking out, now and then, as you moved. Fitted, the hem tucked neatly into your little, black skirt. The smooth cotton formed to your round hips, the waist cinched by a wide, black leather belt. Accentuating, but not revealing, it molded to your firm, round ass, and ended just high enough to further lengthen your lovely, slender legs. I have never resented your friends, never, but at this moment, I envy them.

“Earth to Russell.” Your laughter was cut short when you see the feral look in my eyes. Taken aback, you said, “Really, babe, honest, I HAVE to do this.” Pulling away, you backed out of the room, your earlier look of teasing confidence replaced by uncertainty and regret. “Ok?” you pled as you retreated towards the bedroom.

I looked at you, head tilted down, lidded eyes hungry and predatory. “Sure, baby”, I said unconvincingly, “G’head, get going.”

You headed toward the bedroom, to get your purse and your keys. I sat still for an instant, the briefest hesitation. Then, I moved quickly.

Getting up, I stepped across the kitchen, to the door leading to the garage. Opening it silently, I eased through into the unlit garage, and just as silently, I ease the door closed. Stepping out into the room, I reached out over your car, and unscrewed the light bulb above it. A few turns, just enough to make sure it wouldn’t reveal me. I stepped back, pressing my back to the wall alongside the door. I stood, waiting. The cold concrete beneath my feet, the utter silence, the hard, cool feel of the wall against my back, it all added to my concentration, my heightened awareness. I could hear you moving about inside, calling my name. The door opened and a slice of light pierced the darkness, but left me concealed. “Baby, I’m going.”

Your voice was hesitant. “Baby?” You tried again. “I’m going, hun.” Getting no answer, you muttered dejectedly, “Oh, ya big baby.” You turn and slid your hand along the wall, looking for the switch. Click. Click. Click. “Damn.” Stepping carefully, you move towards the car. You pressed the button on your key ring for the garage door, a soft light glowed, the hum of the electric garage door opener began, and a crack of light ran along the bottom of the door. I reached out, pressed another button above the light switch and the door reversed, the light running to dark again. “What the hell?” you mumbled. The jingle of your keys told me you were trying the door again. With my finger pressed down on the button, I knew it wouldn’t help.

“Damn, damn, damn”, you breathed. I heard the soft snick as you tried the button again, and it’s then that I said deeply, “Don’t bother.” You shrieked softly, and whirled around to find me. “Oh, you big idiot!!! You scared me!!!” Your voice was trembling, your anger beginning to replace your fright. I pushed myself off the wall, and stepped towards you. Something in my face stifles your anger, and you took a step backwards, your eyes widening. I reached out, and my big hand smothered yours, closing over it and the keys. I pulled your wrist down and pressed my body to yours, backing you to the car. “Oomph!” the air was expelled from you as you stumbled and your butt smacked down onto the hood of the car.

Plucking the keys from your hand, I dropped them on the floor. “Ok, very funny, smart ass now let me get outta here.” You tried to brush by me, but I put a knee between your legs, and then grabbed you around the waist, sliding you further up onto the hood. As your feet left the floor, the confidence left your voice. “Russell, c’mon, we can do this later, I promise.

We’ll stay in tonight.” Silent, I began to unbutton your blouse. Your soft hands touched my wrists, the back of my hands, grabbing at my fingers. Unrelenting, I slipped the first button. Leaning in, I kissed the valley between your full breasts, your scent filling my mind. “Seriously, baby, you better not start.” Your voice was quavering. “Really, sweetheart, I can’t be late for this.” Pausing, I leaned back and looked into your eyes. I took your hand, and laid your palm against my naked chest. I leaned in and kissed you, my lips pulling at yours, feeding on them, my jaws working as I pressed my mouth to yours. I felt your mouth open, your tongue barely brushing mine. Breaking kartal escort the kiss, I looked into your eyes, down at your hand against my muscled chest. “Then stop me, if you have to.”

Placing both hands either side of you on the car, I moved in again, renewing the kiss. You fell back slowly against the car. The soft pressure of your hand on my chest changed as your nails sank gently into my skin. We know too much about each other for me to mistake that for denial. “Oh, you nasty man”, you murmured as you lay back. I loomed over you, trapping you against the car.

“Jenna, did you really think you could leave like that without getting this?” I asked wolfishly. Your answer was to lift your legs, propping your high heels on the bumper. I reached down and hiked your skirt up to your waist, exposing the sheer, cream-colored panties. Sucking at your neck, tongue tracing on your throat, with my other hand, I stroked your mound through the thin material. You reached out and wrapped your arms around me, your hands smoothing down along my back, nails tracing the lines of my muscles. My fingers played along your moistening slit underneath your panties.

“Baby, I love this, but honestly, hurry up!” Your voice was low and throaty. I chuckled, “Afraid you’ll be late?” You sighed with exasperation. “No, doofus, I want your big cock. Sheesh.” I laughed loudly, and before you can react, I moved back, and swooped your panties to your ankles with one move. Surprised, you put your hands on the hood, and pushed yourself upright. Reaching beneath your arms, I lifted you off the car and set you on your feet. Turning you, I pushed you forward onto the hood of the car. Your gorgeous naked ass, round and full, was exposed to me. I reached down and lifted one ankle from the panties, leaving them draped around the other.

With one bare foot, I shifted your legs. My finger slid along your sopping slit, and your pussy lips widened in anticipation. You moaned, encouraging me, and I pushed deeper, drawing my thick finger the length of your hungry opening. Your hips pushed back, and I obliged you, adding another finger. Sliding my fingers into you, I stepped between your legs, and while my hand pumped gently at you, I lowered the waistband of my sweats with the other. My swollen cock leapt free, hard and thick. I moved my fingers from you, and your complaining groan was silenced quickly as you felt my fat knob fit into your hot, slick pussy. I grabbed your hips, and with one smooth push, forced my rigid flesh into you. Your gasp told me I had guessed right. Burying my full length inside the crushing embrace of your pussy, I worked deeper, grinding into you. My flat, hard belly pressed against your soft asscheeks as I moved my hips against you.

I reached both hands up, and grabbed your shoulders, crushing you down against me. Slowly, oh so slowly, I slid out, inch by inch, withdrawing until just the head of my swollen cock was still inside you. As you pushed your ass back at me, trying to get me back into you, I slammed forward, the width of me bludgeoning aside your tender flesh. You shrieked out loud, and I pistoned into you, the loud smacking sound of our flesh meeting giving evidence to the force of my thrusts. Your asscheeks shook and jumped each time I drove home into you. Fiercely, frantically, I pumped into you, my cock wet and shiny.

You pushed yourself up off the car, and I started to push you back, but you stopped me. Looking over your shoulder, you gasped, “Oh, baby, I want to see it.” I leaned back slightly, and you lowered your head, looking down between your legs at my thick meat flashing in and out of your tight opening. “Oh, yeah, baby, fuck me, baby, oooooh, baby, yes, yes, yes….” Your words become a chant, and this wanton, eager, voracious side of you dragged me in, pulled me in, held me in. “Now, baby”, I moaned, “now, baby, now!” I quickened my thrusts, feeling something deep in me struggling to tear free. Your voice was loud and demanding. “Yes, now, baby, now, come with me, come with me.”

I drove you up onto the hood of the car with a brutal thrust. My cock pulsed and swelled as my passion rushed into you. I felt your pussy squeeze me, crushing and relaxing, over and over and over. The delicious soft press of your ass against my belly. The sight of you, lying prone on the car, hair spread out, hands wide. Eyes closed, you panted, gasping for breath. Softly you said, “You son of a bitch, you big, sexy, horny son of a bitch.” Leaning over, I kissed your cheek, your neck, your ear. “Baby, I couldn’t help it.” You sighed, and said, “It’s ok, baby. Just don’t make me late for their first anniversary party.”

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