I’m sitting across from you at the restaurant, attempting to politely listen to your story—something about coworkers and lost files—but I’m failing completely. My ability to focus on what’s proper disappears as I watch your lips move and begin to fantasize about them being put to a different use—one that will involve a slow, hot trip down my naked body.
You’re wearing a suit and tie, and for once your hair is combed. It’s sweet that you’ve tried so hard to make a good impression on our first date. I’ll admit that I’ve tried, too. I didn’t select this skimpy dress by accident. Scarlet looks good on me, and I’d suspected your eyes wouldn’t be able to resist my exposed cleavage. I was right.
I smile and take a sip of wine, nodding in hastily manufactured empathy at your complaints about office life. I do care, but not so much at this moment. My main concern is getting through dinner and convincing you that I don’t need dessert, even though you’ve never known me to turn it down in all the time we’ve been friends.
The rational part of me tells me I should savor this night. After many longing glances and much flirtatious banter, we’ve finally decided to do what our friends have said we should for years: date. You asked me out to dinner, not to “hang out” with you and your friends. You made it clear that your intention was a romantic evening for just you and me.
But I’ve waited too long for romance. It requires patience to play that game, and I’m all out. My desire for you is too overwhelming for me to endure that subtle dance.
You raise an eyebrow when I pass up the chocolate cake you know I love, but you’re happy when I agree to your offer of a moonlit stroll. I suggest the long way to the waterfront because I know that commercial strip will be deserted this time of night. I have a plan, but in the end, I think it will suit you.
Outside, you hesitate only a second before taking my hand, but you quickly entwine your fingers with mine. And it feels right.
The barest hint of apprehension worries your brain; I know this from our talks. You’re concerned that by taking this chance—by trying to build on what we have—we might harm a friendship we’ve grown to love and depend on. But you think it’s worth the risk, and I know it is. We’re great as friends, and tonight I plan to show you how well we fit as lovers. But I can’t wait much longer for that.
Those thoughts are in the forefront of my mind as we head down the empty sidewalk. During the day, this area is teeming with traffic and pedestrians. However, at this time of night, the only sounds are the whoosh of occasional speeding cars, and they’re few and far between.
Once we’re a safe distance from the restaurant, my eyes begin to scour the storefronts. I see exactly what I’m looking for—a narrow alley between two brick warehouses—and my heart begins to pound.
“Come,” I whisper, keeping my voice low, even though there’s no one around to hear me but you.
You’re confused—your mind set on that riverfront walk—but I toss my head to the left, toward the mouth of the alley, and tug your hand as I start in that direction.
My body is acting on autopilot. I’ve given up control of myself to my libido, letting it take over and steer us where we need to go.
In the shadows, I push you against the wall. I lean in for our first kiss—hot, hungry and laced with anticipation—and you join me in a perfect moment of unfettered lust. Years of longing swirl with our urgent desires, and I feel drunk with passion.
That kiss immediately unlocks something inside you, something primal and all male. Your tongue flicks against my lips, urging them to open. They do, and I let you in. You deepen our kiss, tangling your fingers in my hair as your tongue claims my mouth. I like that you’ve gone from polite and sweet to sexy and savage in no time flat. I always knew you had it in you.
I’m light-headed with lust, as if your kisses are stealing my very breath. I feel as though I might swoon, but you hold me tight and I manage to stay on my high-heeled feet.
In one smooth motion, you flip us around. My back is up against the bricks, their rough surface scraping my nearly bare shoulders. Your entire body is pressed against mine, and in this position I can feel the evidence of your arousal. Your cock, hard and insistent, presses against my belly; I feel it even through the layers of our clothes. Knowing that you’re so hot for me, so fast, makes me ache even more for you.
Tugging my hair gently, you pull my head to the side and expose my neck. I allow my eyes to flutter closed as I concentrate on your tongue and how it feels skidding down my flesh. You kiss and nip at the skin above my collarbone, and I feel a jolt of arousal shoot straight to my clit. My lust now has a pulse of its own, beating wildly between my legs.
As my passion increases, I begin rhythmically thrusting my hips toward you. The motion does little to satisfy my demanding clit, but I know it’s driving you closer to the edge because of the growl that escapes your lips. The sound unravels me; it’s like I’ve never known the real you—the sexy you—but it’s clear that I’m about to find out exactly who he is and what he can do to me.
That tantalizing thought is still swirling through my head as you turn me to face the wall. I brace my hands against the bricks—still warm from the day’s intense heat—and my fingers aimlessly claw against the uneven surface as I thrust my ass toward you in a lewd offering.
You lean over me to whisper hotly in my ear. “It’s been too long,” you say, as you yank down my panties. Keeping my hands against the wall, I shimmy my hips to help you dispose of my undies, kicking them away when they reach my feet. “I want you—I need you. Now!” Your voice is filled with raw, unbridled emotion and makes me shiver. Goose bumps pebble my skin, despite the heat of the night.
The world outside of this dark, private space ceases to exist. All that’s real is the rustle of fabric and the rasp of a zipper, and your hand at my hip with my dress balled up in your fist. Your cock is nestled between my thighs, barely kissing my clit, and I can’t resist arching my back a little more, adding to the pressure that’s making both of us crazy.
“Oh, girl, you don’t know what you do to me.” Your mouth is on my neck again, biting me so hard that I wonder if you’re going to leave a mark—and don’t really care if you do. Your harsh kisses leave me panting and gasping and breathing heavily between parted lips. You’re rocking your hips, letting the length of you slide along my slit, the head of your cock gliding across my swollen clit and making my body quake. Before long, my thighs feel slick with the honey that’s flowing out of me. I need you more now than I have ever needed anyone in my life.
“Show me,” I manage to utter, my voice as ragged as my breath. “Show me how I make you feel.”
As those words leave my lips, you plunge your cock inside me. A single hot, hard stroke, and you’re balls-deep. My pussy’s so wet and ready for you. One of your hands is working its way inside the bodice of my dress to cup my breast. As you pinch my nipple, I cry out loud and my voice echoes in this desolate space.
My fingers clutch at the wall, searching for purchase as I thrust my body back against you. You’re pumping in and out of me, corkscrewing your hips to hit the most delicious spots inside me. We settle into a lustful rhythm, our complementary motions taking each other ever closer to the brink.
I work my body faster and faster. As your name falls from my lips, you slide your hand down my body, your palm settling on my mound. Your fingers ride along either side of your shaft, picking up some of my moisture each time you slide out of me. Using the evidence of my arousal, you bring those fingertips to my clit and press against it. One, two, three lovely circles and my body bucks wildly, my pussy pulsing around your cock. As my sex spasms around your shaft, you keep pumping into me and extend my pleasure. Holding me tightly, you thrust into me one final time, and I feel you throb inside me as you reach your peak.
After we pull apart, I turn to you. You’re loving and gentle as you hold and kiss me, but the sweet, perfect ache resulting from our frenzied coupling tells me the beautiful truth: yes, we’ve been great friends, but we’re even better as lovers.