A Happy Woman

random erotica by the BuffyOtaku
Rating : NC-17 (just to be on the safe side)
Author’s note: Okay, yeah, I’m really deprived. Just don’t send me any pictures...
I'll give a shiny nickel to the person who tries to sue me for this one. That's all I can spare but I keep my nickel anyhow. No names are mentioned, so I guess I don't need a disclaimer.

My god, mister, I don’t think that there’s anyone so incredibly tasty on the planet.

I mean, all I really want is thirty minutes underneath you -- which is incredibly frightening considering our current relationship. I want to feel you pushing into me. I want to feel your hands buried in my hair. I want to feel your breath on my skin.

I’d just love, one day, to walk into your inner sanctum and hear you say my name like you’ve never seen me before. You would smile up at me and get out of your chair, cross over to me to stand nearer, then tower over me as you look down, supposedly to say hello but really to try to sneak a look down my blouse like you have been every day for a year and a half.

Of course, I’d smile back at you. You’d start to turn away, the same as always, but this time?

Not this time. I’d put my hand on your arm and pull slightly, dragging your attention back to me. Still smiling, I’d say, “Good morning,” and look into your eyes, making sure you see the wanting in mine.

You’d be taken aback, I’m sure. You think I’m too young to be harboring this kind of feelings. You’d do a double-take, not sure of what you’d seen, and pull away again. I would let my hand trail down your arm, grazing your fingertips with my own before sitting down across from you, knees slightly apart, licking my lips.

You’d shudder, involuntarily.

And I would know that I was right about you.

I was right, you were thinking about my mouth on yours, about how the flesh on my stomach would feel under your hands, about how easy it would be to drag me into a dark corner of the room and push me against the wall.

You know I wouldn’t fight you off. In fact, I’d be whimpering, lips parted, eyes half closed in wanting as your hands pinned mine over my head.

“Are you sure you want this?” You’d ask.

I’d just nod, and your mouth would lower to mine, capturing my lips in a desperate kiss, your tongue invading my mouth, conquering, almost territorial as you delve into me.

And then my back would arch; your hands would release mine and your arms would wind around my torso, pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss. My hips would begin to grind against yours. I would be able to tell what it does to you because I could feel your muscles tensing and bunching under the thin cloth of your trousers.

At long last, your nimble fingers would find their way under the hem of my skirt, and my own to your zipper. We’d release each other; our need blinding us to anything but ourselves, and, as you finally do press into me, I’d sigh, almost contented.

You would whisper my name, and my eyes would open. I wouldn’t have even known they were closed. Your hands would really be in my hair, and your mouth would push forth moist breath onto my neck, and I would look up to the ceiling, disbelieving that this was really happening, disbelieving it was true.

And then, I’d look at your face, sweating while you slowly pound into me; grunting with the force of each thrust, grunting with satisfaction at the deep moans that would come out of my mouth. Your speed would increase, my moans become higher-pitched and more desperate, my hands tugging on your short coarse hair, until finally, blissfully, we climax and you growl my name and spill yourself into me.

A few moments would pass, and we’d disentangle ourselves from each other, smiling, gently touching, helping one another dress.

And I would finish repairing myself first, and gently touch your face, and say, “See you later.”

And you’d watch me leave, smiling.

And I would walk out a happy woman.

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