By the time they became lovers, they had known each other for years, although they had only recently begun to explore each other on a personal level.
Their first tryst was at a hotel, in an upper floor room with moonlight streaming in the window. The room was large and tastefully furnished, and with a childlike abandon he'd never seen in her, she kicked her shoes across the room and belly-flopped into the middle of the king-sized bed.
"Oh. My. Gawd," came the muffled southern drawl. "It's actually comfortable."
He grinned as he stepped out of his shoes and sat down beside her. She rolled to her side to face him.
"I've always loved a big playground." She shifted closer to him and asked, "What do you want right now?"
"I want to see all of you."
She stood beside the bed and dropped her jeans to the floor. When she pulled the t-shirt over her head, he was standing in front of her. He unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders.
The kiss was deep and intense, and the warmth of his hands on her bare breasts - teasing and pinching her nipples - sent tingles of pleasure through her pussy. She felt familiar dampness in her panties.
Still locked in the kiss, she tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin against hers. He broke away long enough to give her what she desired, and then bent to kiss her again, feeling her nipples stiff against his bare chest as he cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her body to him.
She felt his cock hard against her belly and ground herself against him. His fingers slipped inside her panties.
"Wait," she whispered, as she eased his zipper down. Then, she slowly knelt at his feet, took his cock in her mouth, and looked up into his eyes. He groaned his pleasure as she licked and sucked.
He twined his fingers in her hair and began to fuck her mouth. **************** He was definitely her type. She firmly believed that everyone had a "type" - the one that made you look twice, and wonder.
Her type was a man with dark hair and a heavy beard, whether he chose to wear one or not. The feeling of day-old stubble on her breasts and between her thighs gave her a rush like the ones she got in her younger, pot-smoking years.
Taller was better, but height wasn't the ultimate attraction for her. The man had to carry himself with confidence. Tentative men - and women, for that matter - just left her cold.
They met for the first time in their respective jobs, on opposite sides of the table. To her delight, he wasn't afraid to go on the attack to win a point. She knew why he did it - to show her he could match her own level of confidence, and raise the stakes. His gaze never faltered. Nor did hers.
She was intrigued.
Over the years, they had increasing contact as they worked on common issues, and developed a mutual respect, even when they disagreed. After all, it was a job, and they were professionals. He was always professional, respectful and courteous.
