An Ideal Evening
The day starts as any other, except for the fact that I can’t concentrate. It’s been a long haul for this software I’m developing and the stress of overtime has taken it’s toll on me. The time passes very slowly as I mold this design into shape. I can’t wait until 2:30 rolls around.
As I pass the day, I continually open this one drawer in my desk, and stare at your picture on the desk hutch. The picture is one of your devilish smiles and reveals a part of you which is undeniably fantastic. In the drawer is a plane ticket to Boston. The flight leaves at 4:30, with a connection in Detroit at 5:15. I can’t wait.
Time finally passes and my boss tells me to have a good time as put on my jean jacket and head for the door. I beam and say “I will, definitely.” I run out to the parking lot and hop into the car.
The engine barks as I turn the key, and I let the clutch out quickly as the tires give that all too familiar chirp. I’m in motion, heading toward O’Hare. The usual speed on these excursions is about 90. I’m too wired and cannot slow down, I’ve got 800 miles to go today.
Check-in at Northwest comes without a hitch, and I try to find a suitable magazine to read enroute. I pick up an issue of Playboy and head toward the gate. The plane is late (It’s Northwest, remember?) and I sit back and stare out window at taxiway.
I begin to daydream. I remember the nights we spent in your apartment with strawberries and whipped cream. The memories are so vivid I can smell the fresh strawberries. Yes, I can surely say I’ve never been obsessed by a woman like you before. And for good reason.
I wake to a very fat woman drinking a large strawberry margarita and looking quite puzzled at me. I regain composure, nonchalantly adjust the tightening feeling in my shorts. Slowly, and without notice, I slip away. The speaker buzzes with the last call of my flight. I get to the gate, and board.
The thing that gets me about airplanes is the feeling of being a sardine in a large aluminum can. Luckily the seats in my row are unoccupied. The plane bumps it’s way down the runway, and with great force, lurches toward the sky. After the seatbelt light snuffs out I raise the armrests, raise my feet, and relax while cracking open the magazine I bought. The stewardess brings a few rum and cokes as I look at what Jerry Falwell likes to ban at 7-Eleven.
I begin to turn pages and see women who are extremely plastic, similar to those you see at a yuppie bar. I’m thinking that nothing is better than what I will have in a few hours, especially since the real thing is better than any wax paper. Yep, you’ve definitely got me hooked. You make love like no other woman before.
The plane begins it’s descent into Detroit Metro. I pop the last ice cube from the Rum & Coke in my mouth. I look out and see town of my birthplace as the landing gear drop. The plane bumps to a stop in the gate and I can hardly wait to get out of this oversize tin-can.
Metro Airport looks the same as it was when I was a kid. New Oldsmobiles adorn the walkways enticing the passerby to stop and look. I look at my watch. A fifty minute layover, but only 3 hours away from the ultimate pleasures of life. I sit and watch people pass by.
My vivid imagination gets the best of me, and I begin to play spy in my head. The only difference is the fact I am spying on you. I peer through a venetian blind to see you wearing the wonderful gift I bought from Victoria’s Secrets. It perfectly accentuates the firmness of your boobs, and the wonderful shape of your fine derriere. I think of the way your beautiful legs wrap around my hips…….
I shake the dreams from my head as I look at the clock. It’s time to board the plane. I find myself in similar situation on the way to Boston, but this time the plane is packed tight.
The plane lands at Logan, and there is a wait for the plane to be gated. The wait is driving me crazy. I grab my jacket and head for the door as soon as it opens. I quickly run up the gateway, and get past the crowd.
I see you from behind and you are longingly looking for me. Quietly, I run up to you and grab you from behind. You turn, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, we kiss. As soft and as beautiful as I remember, your warm body next to mine. I conceal my excitement from the public by holding my jacket in front of me.
Hand-in-Hand, we walk to your car. The feeling of your hand is almost electric and the warmth is amazing. Once inside the car, we kiss, and I put my long tongue down your throat. I think to myself that I can’t wait to put my tongue in other places.
Playfully, we drive back to your apartment out in the sticks. The door opens and I hold you tightly in my arms. You are quite special to me. We shed our clothes rather quickly and hop onto a new waterbed. The warm makes my back feel nice and loose after a long flight.
I slowly begin to run my fingers across your entire body. As my fingers run across your nipples they become hard to the touch. I caress the inside of your thighs and can feel the heat of the passion you are now feeling. I find myself rock hard and larger than I have ever felt before.
Quite slowly, I replace my hands with my tongue. I run the length of your back, and then cross your stomach. Quickly I dive down to the object of my desire as my soft fingertips run across your chest. I lunge my tongue across the tightness of what makes me so crazy about you. At first you moan, then you begin to scream softly with excitement. I continue until you can no longer take it anymore.
You implore me to come inside you. I straddle up the bed, and feel what I have longed so much for. As I enter you ever so slowly, I feel the special ability you have to tighten in places that make pleasure an addiction.
We move from one part of the large bed to another switching positions after one of us has been spent. I feel as though I can go no more, and you can continually get me “up” for the occasion. I once again feel complete, and I feel very content to sleep with you in my arms tonight.
–end–
anonymous author
