home

By Sophie

Two days of driving, followed by four days of art and music and physicality, followed by two more brutal days of driving, has a way of making the mind wander and the body yearn for home. Sometimes “home” is the physical building that houses one’s possessions and memories. But for me, more often it is the people — a specific person, maybe — who touches our lives and makes us more than who we are, who we can be, by ourselves.

I had just arrived at Jamie’s place after my long cross-country journey, the radiator in my car still heated and pinging as I walked hurriedly to his door. He wasted almost no time showing me how much he was ready to see me. His hand held both of mine at the wrist, pinning them against the cool metal of the front door of his apartment, holding them above my head. Desperate kisses broke into desperate breaths as our bodies strained to become one. I could feel his heartbeat against my breast; the heat of our closeness was nearly unbearable. His free hand wandered to my crotch, into my panties, his finger expertly pressing against my already soaked clit. Everything south of my stomach was shaking with desire even as we were still wearing all of our clothing. The usually slow building waves of my climax were already beating against the shore, eroding my ability to hold my orgasm at bay. I had to gasp for breath between hard kisses. I had been out of town for ten days and inside his apartment ten minutes.

“No, I don’t want to come yet,” I managed to murmur against his mouth.

“Why?” he whispered between licks of my lips.  “We can always make more.”

++

A couple of days later I was walking back through that same door after a cigarette, exhausted from a day of work.

“Do you want to lie down?” Jamie asked.

I glanced at him.  “Yes, but I think we should go slow this evening.”

“Yeah, I feel that too. I think it’s the right thing for right now.”

++

Jamie seemed to think better of his original plan and stepped away from me. I opened my eyes and knew I was pouting. “You know, actually, if I make you come now, you won’t be able to do everything I have planned for you,” he playfully said as he gestured toward his dining table. “But for now, bend over.”

I flashed him a smile and a flirty glance before flipping my skirt over my hips and bending at the waist. His voice gave soft yet commanding orders from behind me where I could not see him. “Stay there. Don’t move. Stretch your arms over the table, palms down.” I responded with a husky half-laugh and extended my arms across the table. It was cold against the flesh of my chest. A million sex acts danced through my imagination in seconds. What was he going to do to me? Did I want to know? He had had an entire ten days to devise new and intense ways to extract his pleasure from me. The anticipation made my pussy even more slick. I could feel it in my panties. He could, too — his middle and index fingers were sliding against the silky material, pushing it into me with an insistent rhythm. One of his strong hands came to rest between my shoulders, holding me still, keeping me bent against the edge of the table.

++

The sheets were soft against our naked skin. A lamp in the corner perfectly illuminated the room — dim, but just enough by which to read either books or expressions. Unable to properly kiss –damn you, cold sores — our lips made alternate journeys across collarbones, necklines, jaws, shoulders. Our hands traced each other’s bodies, doing the work our closed eyes usually would. His fingers and mine moved in tandem, slowly, slowly down the opposite torso, until my fingertips brushed his cock, already at attention. Jamie’s index finger oh-so-gently circled my clit, stroked my lips, spread my juice to make me ready, but he wasn’t in any hurry, nor was I. The air between us and around us was humid and scented with our arousal. Everything happened so slowly as if in a daydream. Both our voices broke through deep breaths with the occasional low moan.

Over time, our legs tangled together and his penis pressed hard against the softness of my stomach. My fingers entwined behind his head, pressing his face as close as I could to mine. Our hearts were marching along with the same rhythm. I don’t think either of us opened our eyes for at least half an hour as we made out without ever touching our lips together, our tongues drawing patterns on the other’s neck and cheek and shoulder.

++

My panties were around my ankles. His fingers pushed into my shockingly wet pussy without hesitation. The hand that had been pushing me against the table now raked into my hair and pulled, at first softly, then not so. My hips involuntarily pushed back and he pulled his fingers out of my cunt and traced circles around my asshole. I couldn’t help but giggle – when I am aroused, sometimes I just laugh. I don’t know why.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked, now pressing his fingers into my ass, going slow when I could feel he wanted to go fast.

“Nothing,” I said, “You know I laugh when I am happy.”

I couldn’t see his expression from my position, I could only see the wall and the art hung upon it, but I could hear the smile on his face. “You’re about to make me happy. You’re about to wear something for me, for a while.” His fingers pulled away from me. “Don’t move. Stay there.”

His footsteps walked down the hallway quickly and then back and I heard him open a bottle — lube, I already knew. As if it were possible, my cunt became even wetter, and I could feel my leg muscles begin to shake with anticipation. “I’ll go slow, just relax,” he said. I laid my head, cheek down, against the table and closed my eyes, feeling the impossibly slippery tip of one of our toys prod against my opening. Jamie worked it slowly against my ass, into me, out of me, in measured strokes, and I sighed my pleasure and trepidation quietly. After what seemed like both eternity and no time at all he announced, “There isn’t any more to go in,” and had me stand.

Jamie placed his hands on my shoulders, turned me to face him, and neatly pulled my skirt back down. The plug was surprisingly comfortable even as it made it a little difficult to walk and sit. The flared end rested against my ass cheeks, a constant reminder that it was there.

“I need to make a phone call,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

++

The long, slow make-out session had heated up considerably but was still tender. Both of my hands circled around Jamie’s firm cock and I could feel drops of come slide over his head. “You’re wet,” I said against his neck. He moaned in appreciation as I circled my thumb over his skin.

“Do you want me?” I asked, finally opening my eyes. His were still closed. He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you want to be inside of me?”

“Yeah. I wanted to wait–”

“We can wait, if you want.”

“No, I want you now.”

He rolled over and on top of me, parting my legs with his. Stiff flesh met soft as he guided himself into me hands-free, his hands occupied with touching my stomach and breasts and face. We both sighed together, our foreheads touching, breath mingling, bodies undulating in the faint lamplight.

++

The phone call had ended.  Jamie had me on his bed, on my knees. I could hear him stroke lubricant onto his cock, a damp cadence of hand on shaft, as he bent to speak directly into my ear. “I’m going to fuck you now,” and without waiting or warning, he pulled the plug from my ass. Mere seconds later he was sliding his dick into me without preamble, pushing past my discomfort into the hole he had prepared for himself. “Welcome home,” he panted, pushing into me at a fever pitch. I cried out, whether in pain or surprise or pleasure I can’t really say. All I knew at that moment was endless and insatiable hunger.

His hands bore down upon my hips and thrust my ass into the perfect position to receive him. I curved my back, turned my head to look at him. He cupped my breasts in his palms and bent to kiss me, the sides of our mouths desperately searching for the other. We were as animals. I was dimly aware of my nonsense noises of desire, growing louder as he fucked me — and he was fucking me. There was nothing tender about what we were doing.

Jamie used me for his pleasure as the first of several orgasms began to rock me. My pussy grasped for a dick that wasn’t there, my whole body attempted to writhe as he held me down and pounded my ass with pent-up lust, his motions almost a frenzy.

As one climax crested for me another was just over the horizon, within easy reach. My orgasms flowed one into another in one unbroken chain of lust. “Come in my ass,” I begged, wanting to feel him pulse in that intimate opening. “No,” he growled, “I want to come in your pussy.”

And with that, Jamie pulled out and pushed directly into my cunt with hardly a pause, causing me to cry out once more and reach for the headboard. I now had a little leverage and was able to push my hips back against him. He reacted by grasping my shoulders and driving into me wildly, unable to stop himself. Firm became harder became rock-hard as I came over and over again, soaking his cock and my thighs and his whole pelvis. I could tell he was close to his own climax. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at him. He opened his eyes then, and upon seeing my expression, rolled his eyes back in his head and fucked me even harder, something I didn’t think he could do.

When it was time for him to come, he didn’t warn me about that either. There were last desperate thrusts and then his throaty groans, his mouth close to my ear. I felt pulsing heat. I felt his semen hit my cervix with considerable force. His fingers grasped my shoulder so hard I thought he might bruise me, and I shivered with one last orgasmic wave.

++

Jamie and I slowly rolled and rocked against each other. Our movements were the flow of a slow creek, or maybe clouds floating in a blue sky, unhurried, deliberate. Every inch of our skin that could touch was touching, his breath hot against my chest and neck. I was aware of my moans as a song of need, higher pitched and clearer than my usual low tones. He was singularly focused on enveloping me with touch, his hands wandering down my torso and delicately along my breasts, tickling my nipples and caressing my shoulders. I found myself grasping for his ass and hips, attempting to pull him even deeper into my aching slit. “I love you,” I surprised myself by crying out, but I didn’t care what was coming out of my mouth any more than what was happening outside the bedroom. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the sacrament we were performing together.

Our dance became gradually faster and faster, yet still purposeful and conscious. I could feel myself starting up the roller-coaster hill of my climax, but I hung on the edge of orgasm for what felt like forever, feeling it within my grasp and then out of it again. It was as if Jamie meant to keep pulling it from me, but I know my body was just waiting, waiting for him to get close. My body and mind wanted to share that moment with him. This time, unlike other times we have fucked, the waves would pull me close but then dangle me over the edge, so much so that one wrong move would have pushed me over, but none of our moves were wrong. Everything felt right, real, pure.

After an eternity of slow magic I couldn’t hold back anymore. I looked directly at Jamie and sobbed, “you’re going to make me come, I can’t–”

As soon as the words crossed my lips I crossed the threshold. Everything went white, bright, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, all I could do was cling to him. Tears came to my eyes as I felt a part of myself separate from reality and float unmoored in a sea of pleasure and intimacy. I was still floating when Jamie joined me, his thrusts smooth yet firm and insistent. His climax was less of a forceful shot and more of a warm flood inside of me, filling me with ecstasy. As before, I felt one last powerful push of bliss as Jamie softly collapsed on top of me, cock still rigid and pulsing.

++

Jamie’s home is not necessarily mine. I don’t have a key; I always have to wait for him to open the door, or perhaps he’ll leave it unlocked while he hurries to take a shower while I battle the ever-present traffic to come to him. I know the locations of the important things — the dishes, the bourbon, the extra printer paper, the extra toilet paper. My own small stash of toiletries, brought early on when Jamie didn’t want to wait for me to stop by my place to grab my overnight bag, lives under the master bathroom sink, mostly hidden — though now my toothbrush has moved to the toothbrush holder, where it can properly drain. None of this matters. When I wake up in his bed — ours, for the moments it is still scented with us — I know exactly where I am, and that place is more home than anywhere else I can imagine.