Quickie Sex Stories - Expectation

Quickie Sex Stories – Expectation (Part 1)

Sometimes, love nothing better than a quickie, just come in, fuck me like an animal, and then go back to work.  Here’s the first part of quickie sex stories – expectation.

I hear my phone chime and casually pick it up.  It’s a text message from him, five words: “I am on my way.”  My heart immediately jumps in my chest.  I look around my place for anything that looks like it might need straightening.  There’s still a coffee cup on the counter and a saucer from my breakfast.  That will have to be cleaned and put away.  The couch pillows are not straight but everything else looks neat.  I will have to double check the bedroom, I think.

I look down at myself, still un-showered, sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and panties,and reading through my Twitter and Facebook.  I am in an unacceptable state.

The clock says ten thirty.  My thoughts fly through the math, I might have twenty minutes, depending on when the text was sent.  I jump off the couch and dash to the bathroom.  Showering is a must.  He’s going to want me clean, smelling of soap, and ready.

I slip under the spray of the water and immediately think of it.  It has been a long time, two weeks, too long,  I have missed it but have said nothing.  It is mine but not on my terms.  I am only a follower, a disciple of its heft and weight, a worshiper.

The water slips over my skin and I think of masturbating but know that it will not please him to find me already wet and wanting.  That is his delight, drenching me, bringing me to the very edge of total bliss, and then pushing me off, over, and letting me fall into moans of delight.  I am forbidden from starting without him but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.  I feel the rebellion well inside me.  So many instructions, so many expectations.  I will be punished if I disobey.

I slide my hands over my breasts, under the curves of them as the water runs along me.  I cannot stop thinking about it and I can feel the warmth spreading through me.

My fingers move down my belly.  Part of me wants to stop them but the other part, the part that has my heart racing and my breath coming faster and faster while I imagine it, is stronger.  I am no match for my own desire.  I want to come.  I am already wet just thinking about it, the way it will stand and throb, eager for my attention.  The way I will worship it with every part of me.  I can’t help myself.  I have to do it, have to reach down and spread myself open, let the water trickle between my lips, run over my most sensitive parts of me.

I close my eyes and spread myself.  It feels so good.  I am tingling all over.  I see colors behind my eyes as my fingertip crosses the swollen nub and swirls around it, mixing my own juices with the splashing water.

I slip a finger into my mouth and slide my tongue around it.  I want it to be him.  I want suck him in, feel him fill my mouth, listen to the deep moan escape his lips while I kneel at the alter of his manhood. My knees go weak.  I press my hand against the shower wall to steady myself.  I can wait no longer.

My finger slides down and pushes into the darkness.  I bite my lip as every muscle inside me tenses.  I know that if I move, it will happen, the lightning will bolt through me and rattle every nerve.  I hold my breath and press the finger deeper.  The pleasure surges through me, washes over me.  I am flushed.  I can feel the redness in my cheeks.  My hips move forward and I shiver and softly moan.

I will be punished for my disobedience but I do not care.  The expectation was too much and I know I have even more to look forward to.

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