Airport Rendezvous 4

After an agonizing eight hours of on-flight films and subpar-microwaved food, the plane landed with the sound screeching tires and screaming children. I could now see the back of Belfast's cozy little, one-terminal airport. I squirmed in anticipation in my seat. Five months, I thought. We'd been separated by the Atlantic for too long, and the cold, foreboding winter hadn't made dealing with the loneliness any easier. America's supreme size and population seem meaningless when you haven't got your person. I breathed a sigh of relief. The plane slowly rolled across the tarmac in a pace that can only be described as a complete and utter tease. I was ready for the desperate rendezvous we'd been planning for months.

It had been an excruciatingly long time since I'd seen your face up-close. Those pale, round cheeks that made holding your face while kissing an extraordinarily comfortable and easy position. The way they'd go red when you were flustered, furious, or fucked. The latter being a vague descriptor for many of your favorite activities: drinking, laughing, and, well, actually fucking. Let's just say you were crimson quite often. The last thought had me squirm a little more. The plane had paused its journey for whatever vague, asinine reasoning airports have for delaying lovers for a few agonizing moments longer. This only gave me more time to meditate on my other favorite bits of you, which quickly descended into the uncivilized filth I'm prone to think about when it comes to you. I thought about the other benefits of your pale skin, such as the light pink of your areolas, and how nice it is when the pink scrunches in arousal when I'm lightly kissing them. I felt my cock twinge in my pants as I adjust myself in the seat, not wanting to alert either individual next to me to my daydreams. Thankfully, the plane finally began to budge toward the terminal. My cock, however, stayed turgid and prepared.

See, we had teased each other for months about this. You sent me those delectable videos of you rubbing your clit from behind, where I was forced to watch your cunt seize up in pleasure with your fingers. I was furious that it couldn't be my face instead, but I made sure you also felt the same hunger with videos of me exploding in pleasure to your pictures. We're a devious duo, but I'd have it no other way.

People stand up to file out of the plane. My tight black jeans constrict my cock along my thigh, but I know I have to be careful with how I navigate the line. I think only of how sweet you will feel after your extended absence. I recall the first time we had sex, and how tight and sweet you had felt wrapped around my cock. Would it be similar? Would it be better? My mouth went dry as I absentmindedly licked my lips in anticipation.

And of course, you were there. Radiant. Glowing. I guilty succumbed to my dirty mind and noticed your breasts heaving in joy. We both mutter the sweet things of longing we've been issuing over various bits of technology of months: I miss you. God, I love you. It's not the same without you. All true, but our minds quickly shifted when you felt me against your stomach. I knew it was no good playing coy, and though exhausted and jetlagged, I licked your ear and whispered my lusts to you. You took my hand anxiously through the meandering crowds, and I was supremely grateful that you brought no family to see me at the airport.

We piled my luggage into your tiny red car. I sat in the passenger seat and returned a hungry gaze from you. Things I learned in that moment on that day: Kisses after long absences are twice as sweet, cocks are twice as hard, and touching of the skin feels like raw sexual electricity coursing through you. Needless to say, you quickly turn on the car and speed haphazardly through the parking lot.

I shamelessly rub your soaking wetness while you drove, but you do your best to swat my hand away. I take it to my tongue and taste you for the first time in what feels like years. It's tangy, sweet, and I tell you so in the tiniest of whispers to your ear. We don't swerve into oncoming traffic and we don't make it home. We find a street—it's not important the street name, and through our pleasure and sexual anxiety I doubt we'd remember—and proceed to tear each other's clothes off.

Car sex is neither ideal nor comfortable, but with your breasts in my mouth and your tight, sopping cut gyrating on my hand, neither of those thoughts occurred to us. I took every opportunity to taste my fingers, your tongue, and your breasts.

You became a dish to my insatiable appetite; all while you tried desperately to mount me. I refused to give in at first, and instead opted to rub your clit until it went as solid as my cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and I didn't stop until you start to gush unfathomable amounts of cum on my hand and bear body. The car windows steamed, but not enough to cover our bodies. We gave one anxious glance around before you mount me, which was sheer, unadulterated bliss.

Your pussy had the wetness and force of a furious ocean current, slopping up and down my tender and unused cock. You kissed me hungrily, absorbing every bit of pleasure possible from my body. My hands wrapped around your edible and delicious ass, I bounced you up and down my body with a feverish need. I had never felt you tighter, and so my cock swelled to a size you had rarely felt before in that moment. I slightly fingered your ass, wanting to place myself across your entire spectrum of orifices in that moment. You were sweet, tight, and insatiable in every hole. My cock never stood a chance: it spurted as it never spurted before, spraying out hot seed that covered your pussy walls and shot to your womb with an unrecognizable force. You looked at me with a greedy, lopsided grin and kissed me passionately. I threw you in the seat next to me and attempted to gobble my cum out from your pulsing cunt. I wanted more.

The car zoomed home and I slowly coaxed myself into another frenzied, turgid state by the time we hit your bedroom. Though I was not interested in your bed, so I put you up against a wall, whispering the things you needed to hear and things I needed to say. I needed you more than anything else. Your pussy is mine. I want your filled with my cum in every hole and I want to taste it all. It might not be to others' taste, but this was our language. Practically foaming at the mouth for it if we weren't too busy stuffing each other's wet, throbbing genitals there instead. It was bliss, sweet, and hard.

I ended in an unusual place: your tight, fragile ass. You begged it slow at first, and I obliged for a moment. It was not long until I pummeled it in a way not unlike I would your pussy, expanding it as you rubbed your clit furiously. Your ass seized around my cock when you came, begging me for my next load. I buried myself in your hole, pouring myself out into your tightest hole. Another lopsided grin. One more slopping kiss. I was home, and so fucking grateful for it.