He had just finished checking his email and was scrolling through a new story on his favourite site when there was a knock at the door. Scrambling to hide his erection beneath a sweatshirt that had been hung on the back of the chair, he quickly changed windows on the screen before calling, "Come in."
The door opened and a woman with dark hair and dark eyes came into the room. She closed the door and smiled at him. "I hope you don't mind me just showing up," she said, taking off her jacket to reveal a red blouse and black skirt. "I wanted to surprise you."
He stared at this woman, certain he'd never seen her before and wondering if she had the wrong house. "I'm sorry-" he began, but she interrupted him.
"Ohhhh," she said, "You don't recognise me." She smiled and came closer to his chair, tugging at the sweatshirt he'd hastily draped over his lap. "But I can tell that you like what you see, nonetheless." She had leant over, and he could see down her blouse to her breasts. He could also smell her breath, smelling faintly of mint, and her perfume, a wonderful fruity smell. Her voice sounded odd to him, American perhaps, softly lilting but coming from low in her throat.
He swallowed hard, wondering what to say. "I'm sorry-" he tried again, but again got no further as she placed her finger against his lips. He fell silent as she slowly traced her long nail around his lips. He stared at her, her face subtly made up, her hair swept up into a clip, her eyes roaming his face and body as though she were looking for something. Her gaze lingered on his lap, where his erection still pressed against his jeans. Not wanting to sound foolish by apologizing again, he said nothing.
Feeling suddenly bold, he reached up with one hand and brushed his fingers over her cheek. Her skin was quite warm to the touch despite the chill in the room, and she smiled at him, sinking down to her knees in front of him, so that to maintain the eye contact that he now couldn't bear to break, he had to look down at her. He still didn't know who she was but thought he might make a case for love at first sight – or at any rate, lust at first sight. He couldn't stop himself from imagining his cock between those full lips, or those long nails digging into his back as he thrust into her pussy.
She smiled – had she guessed his thoughts? Her hand reached up behind his neck and she pulled his face to hers, her tongue snaking out between her perfect lips to trace wetly around his own lips. Suddenly he didn't care who she was, he was kissing her, both hands on her head holding her close, kissing her deeply and passionately and wetly. She sucked eagerly on his lips, on his tongue, her body pressing up towards him, her arms round his shoulders pulling him closer.
Kissing her feverishly, his hands moving down to fondle her breasts, standing and pulling her to stand with him, kissing her again, his hands reaching down now to her ass, pulling her pelvis in hard against his, breathless, his thoughts were consumed with her smell, her taste, the feel of her in his arms and against his body.
He felt her hands slip between them, felt her unbuttoning her blouse. He pulled slightly away to watch her do this, her fingers with their long nails moving with such assurance from one button to the next, until her shirt fell open to reveal creamy white skin and soft red lace. He groaned softly, gazing at her exposed flesh. She smiled, raising her arms above her head, her breasts lifting, tantalising.
Leaning forward, he kissed her neck, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. "Who are you," he murmured, using his fingers to lower the cup of her bra and taking her nipple into his mouth.
