It had hardly been three weeks since he'd seen her. The images of her face, neck, flat tone belly, the crease of her thigh, and her sweet, well we'll get to that soon enough won't we. Suffice to say, he had missed her. The thoughts of her danced upon his mind when he looked at the fresh flowers blooming in the garden that she so deftly programmed to remind him of her during her rather extended absence. Countless times over the last several weeks her image danced upon his mind as he stroked himself before drifting off to sleep, his seed drying in lonely desolation on his skin. He held his pillows close as he slept wanting only to have his arms wrapped around his love. Alas, the day had finally arrived!
How he'd waited for this moment, trying not to look to anxious, he played with his son on the escalator riding it up an down, chasing each other without running, anything to keep his mind from playing tricks on him. She was due any minute now.
He wasn't looking when she stepped into view, she smiled at the back of his head, and she felt the heat of her own anticipation address her tenderest skin. He felt her presence also and turned. It almost seems clichΓ© to suggest that time stood still for a moment, but they say that because it's true, like a picture taken in an instant lasting a lifetime, the smile tumbling in the cascading hair, her pert breasts taught against the fabric, the giddiness in her step and the seductive dance of her hips as she ran to his opening arms.
"I love you," he whispered, it seemed like nothing else needed said. She turned her head into his neck, kissed his flesh and pressed her body against him; a manner so accustomed that involuntarily the blood began to circulate in his loins. He slipped a little note into her hand.
Waiting for her baggage to slide onto the carrousel, it was as if they were long lost lovers reunited and that's exactly what they were! Their growing emotion, the tenderness of their caress, his hands wandering over her body, everyone in the room felt their joy. She couldn't help fondling the note in her hand. He smiled and sent her to sit and read.
In her absence, he played with his son. A son who, loved deeply, he still didn't belong at the reunion of one love to another. Still, fortune didn't give him the seclusion he had hoped for and anyway his son had grown to love her as a mother. A son should always be there to welcome with truly innocent love. He knew this. It is what the note was for. He wanted her wet, he wanted to taste her, he wanted to fuck her right there on the floor, the chair, that goddamn carrousel, and he wanted her to feel that deep within her frame.
She sat quietly for a few minutes reveling in the emotion of being in his company again. She began to get wet. She wanted to hold him close to her, whisper in his ear that she needed him, needed him to fuck her, to fuck her wildly like an animal, to fuck her in a way that she would be ever reminded that she belonged to him, that she was his slut, a word that in this context was their most sensual and honored expression of love without bounds. The feelings made her smile and she didn't open the note.
She folded the note up carefully, her heart hot in anticipation. She wanted to read, but would wait, for she needed him now and she went to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and let her whispers in his ear share her hearts joy.
Her pants low and snug upon her hips, his eyes undressed her as he sought the subtle outline of her thong... yet there was no outline, nothing but a smooth silhouette of the firm ass below. The blood that had been teasing his loins began to organize itself. No panties? He smiled inwardly at the pleasure of his love, his lust, his sweetheart, his erotic counterpart come home to him. He let his hands slide along her hips, her bottom. He looked around, nobody was obviously watching, his son was waiting for her bags, he slid his hand up under her tee-shirt, her smooth belly instantly warm against his fingers. He held her and nuzzled her neck. She wondered where his hand would head. She didn't want to feel embarrassed, but she wouldn't push his had away, she knew better. He was strong and her trust in him was complete. He drew his hand back down, hooking a finger in her pants as he left. "You," he whispered "are perfect." Such a joy, his hand around her waist, her bag in his hand hoisted over his shoulder, her smile dancing in her walk as they headed for the door.