TITLE: Wet
AUTHOR: bolly69
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concept; they belong to the BBC/Ashley/Matthew, etc.
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Just a fun one-shot I had in my head; it don't mean nothing, just for kicks!
This is an M rating, please do not read on if you're easily offended by sex and/or strong language.
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Wet.
She was soaking wet.
Wet, from thinking of him.
Again.
The pronounced moisture between her legs; the incessant throbbing accompanying it; the desire to writhe in her seat overwhelming, hijacking her thoughts.
Thoughts of him ravishing her body, owning it; his steel blue eyes piercing her flesh; his mouth and teeth raking her skin, sucking and biting at her breasts; his big strong hands clawing their way past her sodden underwear to her sex; the smell of him filling her senses, musky, smoky, whisky scent that only he carried with him; the sounds of slick flesh sliding into her moist folds; her pussy drenched in anticipation of him; his cock filling her completely, breathtakingly; powering into her; over and over; her stomach-wrenching cries for release filling the air; gasping for breath, lungs burning, muscles screaming.
Wet.
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Hard
He was so fucking hard.
So hard his cock twitched beneath his belt, balls ached from the strain, from the need to be released, by her.
Hard, from watching her do nothing more than sit at her desk; the way her hair fell across her cheek; her sleek hands toying with her pen, her long fingers twirling it between them; needing them on his cock, grasping, twisting, and pumping; her rosebud red lips pursing in thought, so fucking kissable, so fucking good around his cock ; perfect round tits that he sometimes caught a glimpse of when her blouse fell open; firm fleshy arse, that she deliberately wiggled in front of him, enticing him, daring him to touch; and those eyes, sultry Hazel orbs that glistened up at him, that he imagined he was looking into as he lay over her, driving his cock into her, clinging on to her like a drowning man, holding on for salvation; feeling her tremble and moan in his hands, crying out to him as she came, her graceful form wracked, the essence ripped from her.
Hard.
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Fucked.
That's what she wanted.
To be fucked; to be taken; by him.
To be dominated by his cock, his enthusiastic mouth, his strong clever hands; to be pushed and pulled, used and fucked; to be spellbound, helpless; flaccid limbs submitting to his will, his power, his cock.
To give in to abandon, to the wanton, sensual woman whose heart beat fast and hard beneath her breast, in rhythm with the throb of her sex; a passionate red-blooded woman whose presence belied the severe facade she had created for others to see.
Fucked.
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Horny.
Christ, he was horny.
Horny and hard.
All his willpower required to stop him from thrusting his hips, to fuck his fist and imagine he was shoving his cock between her legs, just here, right now, on his desk; he could almost feel her silky walls closing around him, squeezing his cock; hear the exquisite squelch as he pounded into her drenched pussy; feel his balls tighten in readiness to come, over and over, in her.
Fuck.
Horny.
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Hot.
It was so damned hot.
Hot, like hell on a bad day.
Maybe it was just her, burning up with the images of him in her mind; smouldering eyes burning into her flesh, sizzling her skin, setting her body ablaze, razing her soul to the ground.
Fuck.
Hot.
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Tonight.
It would happen tonight.
Date, she'd said; sort of.
Plans, she had. For him. For him.
Wants, he had. For her. For her.
Fuck.
Tonight.
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Thanks for reading! ;-)
Thanks to Ash & Matt for giving us fantastic characters to play with, to whatever ends…
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