The Secret Lover

I used to come to him in the dark and wait in the shadows until the time was right. I would creep up the stairs, slink through the back door and sneak into his room. He wouldn't be there, but he knew I was there waiting.

Silently, I'd kick my shoes off under his bed, the soles still slick with the dew from outside. I'd slide my pants off my hips and remove my shirt without a sound. Then I'd get into bed, pulling the sheets off and tucking myself in one effortless move, the only sound in the moment between the nearly imperceptible wffft from the blankets being thrown from his bed and the prickling of the chill against my bare back.

I'd lay there, quiet, waiting. It was just me and the moonlight in that room and the heavy weight of anticipation.

I could feel him coming before I could hear him. Then, a creak of the floorboards- then another. I inhaled sharply, knowing he was close. His footsteps were uneven, speeding up as they grew nearer. The door opened and let out a squeaky, muffled moan. The hallway light suddenly flooded the room and then disappeared just as quickly when he entered. He was undressed and beside me before I could exhale.

His lips met mine. It had been too long. We kissed our "hellos", our "I missed yous" and our "I love yous" and got right to the "I must fuck yous" He pushed the blanket away from my body. The chill only prickled for a moment on my nipples before it was enveloped by the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled and flicked, his teeth nipped, and my legs spread. His fingers found their way to my pussy and danced against my clit. The desire, the waiting was too much. He found my clit, found my pussy wet and yearning for him, found my eyes begging him, and he would. And we would, over and over again, until the dawn replaced the moonlight, and I would sneak out the same way I came, fulfilled, happy, a bit cum stained, and drive back home.