Arrival

She looked around the terminal gazing intently at each couple that passed through the sliding doors and then glancing back at the photograph that she held in her hands.  It was a slightly crumpled photograph that had been much looked at and that, on one side at least, seemed a little tear stained.

Remembering how she had cried when she had first heard he was visiting her country, she rubbed the surface of the picture.  She could remember that depressing time when it had all been too much for her, when he seemed to be turning away from her and when she seemed to be losing everything.

That, however, was the past. Now he was coming to her, not alone, but at least his presence would be a reality. That intangible relationship that they had led over so much time via their computers, had begun to wear a little thin.  Yes, the exchange of sweet words and jests, pictures and poetry and even the occasional surreptitious phone call had been little delights in themselves.  She would always smile, recollecting the rare Christmas and other special occasion mail.

Looking up again, she blushed suddenly as if caught in a wicked thought at her first glimpse of him in the flesh. There were no wicked thoughts now - just an overflow of emotion at his presence at last and a hot trembling concern that the reality would be so different.  

Would that animalistic creation of her mind that she had shared so many torpid hours with in her bed exist in any form whatsoever? Would those oh so many moments lying in those intangible arms and feeling the heat of his phantasmagoric breath on her face?

She wanted to run towards him and hold him tight to her when she saw the curly head bobbing out of the terminal, loaded down with luggage, talking to someone out of her sight. Even if they been visible, that significant other would not have turned her gaze for a moment, so fixated was she on the man she saw in front of her.  This was the man whom she craved and desired, hoping against hope that physical proximity bring intimacy in reality or merely banter.

She steadied herself and began to walk slowly towards him, thinking of the possible opportunities that this physical reality could afford her.............

........Twenty paces for twenty-thousand fantasies and role-plays to pass through her mind.  She would suppress them when she reached over to kiss him in friendly greeting and to shake his companion's hand, observing all the formalities.

.....Twenty paces after which she would have to consider how she would usher them both into her car and seat him in the front with her.  This might enable her, casually and unnoticed, to slip her hand from the handbrake to brush his thigh and squeeze him gently.  She could already feel the texture of the cloth, the thickness of the flesh and the wish that his trousers were not so thick. If only it had been summer then there would have been shorts perhaps and bared flesh, under a silky covering of fine masculine hair.

Her hand could ride up and down that thigh unnoticed, save in his trembling. Then, rising up she could squeeze higher, almost touching his intimate zones, feeling the turgid genitalia growing and pandering to his fantasies and her desires.

She would look in the rearview mirror and flush again to see his partner, tired from the journey, sleepily reclining in her seat. Her own little boy, who had been so chirpy and excited on the way to the airport, might be slumped against her, sleeping too. Well, he had said that his partner was good with children. Even in slumber, this woman looked so caring for her boy that the boy's mother flushed again. She felt slightly guilty at her clandestine fondling of this man, her fantasy lover and the other woman's husband.

Things would have gone too far for her to relent though. She knew that she was totally in the wrong. The moral vacuum filled her mind as she slowed the car to a halt outside the motel that she had pre-booked for the travelling couple and, on a hurried instinctual notion for her and the boy too. They didn't know this and didn't ask why their hostess was staying too as sleepily "she" booked in for them and retired to her room, apologising for her lack of sociability. Looking down at the boy and realizing that he was in no state to stay up either "she" took him by the hand and, despite his muted protests, ushered him quickly to brushing his teeth and hurrying to bed.

The two cyber lovers were left in the muted light of the motel lobby, still and silent.  Alone with their thoughts and their now realizable fantasies, more wide awake than ever before. The desk clerk really didn't want to give them the time of day and the bar staff were closing up, only interested in checking their till rolls, before the night shift came on.  They were focused on returning to their own homes, leaving the couple to tryst unnoticed.

She took his hand and pressed it between hers warmly, sitting next to him and snuggling up into his arms, like the couple they had so often been in their imaginations. Even though they were roughly the same height, she slumped back in the comfortable seat, enabling her to look up at him.  She believed that this would bring out the masculine protective instinct in him and possibly an arm around her shoulder.

She was duly rewarded by the advance of his limb sinuously curving around her soft shoulders and hugging her. Leaning back, almost pinioning him to the seat, the encircling arm became his prison rather than a captivating embrace. Looking up into his green eyes and resting her hands innocently enough on his lap, she slowly rubbed her fingers up and down the cloth. If only he were a little more excited, she mused, if only.......

Squeezing and probing, the contours that she longed to lap with her moistening tongue expanded relentlessly. She was the kitten who had finally got her cream. She was literally purring as she pressed down on him, to feel the swell of his turgid virility, so receptive to her caresses. The idea that a simple touch of her hand could make him so hard for her for real made her want to melt and to rub her thighs together.  Any reduction in the itching sensation between her legs would only exacerbate the moistening sensation in her panties.

After such a long wait she really did desire him now. This was her opportunity, her chance to taste and feel the excitements that nearly two years of on and off flirting had brought out in her. She glanced at the surroundings and saw the night clerk was obscured by the plants around the alcove in which they sat.  He was gazing out distractedly towards the gardens behind the motel.

She looked away from the clerk and back to her man of the moment. His eyes were half closed in the subdued lighting of the hotel.  She let herself slowly slip down off her seat, out of his arms, to kneel at his feet. Again she looked up at him, teasingly submissive, but she was no slave to his desires.  It was her own unbridled passions that she desired to serve now.

She reached up to his zip and held it in two determined fingers for a moment, before slowly pulling it down, hearing the metallic clicking like a sheet of paper tearing. The musky aroma of his unveiled concealment was like the smell of an exotic flower opening its petals for her to enjoy. Reaching up to unbutton his trousers, she slapped his upper thigh gently to have him lift himself up. He raised his hips, obedient to her whims, and she pulled the garment down. He gasped as she lowered his briefs down at the same time, leaving his naked backside in contact with the cool leatherette sofa - 'shades of l'histoire d'O' - the wicked thought flickered through his mind.

She giggled at his whimpering and then, gazing down at his exposure, resolved her features into a serious and determined look, reaching down to touch the growing pillar of her desires. She stroked him gently at first and then, taking it, like courage, in both hands began to rub up and down lasciviously. Her mouth watered as she lowered her head slowly. When it was just inches above the desirable protuberance, she held herself still, wanting to encourage a jerking response before applying herself to the first taste of that much sought manhood.

She hesitated to bring the barriers down, knowing the excitement that lay in this teasing pause. Amplifying her wicked tantalising, she looked up at him and licked her lips. The tip of her tongue nearly touched him.  She saw it as a precursor of the excitement to come when she finally absorbed his willingness into her eager mouth.

His faint groan of impatient dissatisfaction reminded her of a baby awaiting feeding - but this time she would feed first and feed off the most desired foodstuffs in the world. She knew that eventually she would be unable to resist any longer. Would he wait though? Could he bear further teasing or would he act preemptively to halt her naughty prevarications?

Patience was not his virtue and, even as her head descended to devour, she felt his hand on her head, pushing her down onto him.  As her lips spread to take him into her salivating mouth, she realized that this was a belated endeavour to try to control the situation. With her clever mouth, she knew that she  would remain in charge. Conscious that her tongue sliding across that hardening would rouse moans in him, she remained alert to the need to cut them off. A warning nip might curtail them from alerting one of the  torpid night staff. Yet, she gleefully anticipated those same nibbling teeth garnering little whimpers from him.

He tussled her hair as her head prepared to dip and rise, in a rhythmic cycle, laving his affections to bring out the white emotion of his peak of excitement. His hands would reach down to stroke her neck and she would murmur, pausing for a moment from her labours to hum luxuriantly, before continuing to pleasure him with renewed vigour.

She would kneel further forward, bending lower, so that her skirt rucked up. He might see her bare upper thighs glistening with moisture and the small of her back pressing down against the edge of the sofa.  Such a position would lead her to bulge out, almost overflowing from her clothes. She could imagine his wandering gaze even as she continued to engage the upstanding firmness in front of her.

She would reach her hand up to surreptitiously undo the top buttons of her blouse.  Would he tremble at his first sight of the firm swell of her bosom as the blouse flopping away baring the fleshy mounds to his view? He might look down and develop an impression of a curious interconnectivity.  Such a sensation could be reinforced by the connection of her lips to his jutting manhood. Yes! And all would culminate in his explosion of lust, observed sensuously by her unblinking eyes staring up at him....

....as she bent down to pick up his case and looked at him. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she turned from the man to the woman and embracing both of them, murmured:

"Welcome to America, I'm so glad you could come at last."