Even knowing what time I'll arrive, you're still startled by a knock at your door. You hold still for a moment, absorbing the reality that I'm really there, standing a few feet away with just a wooden door between us. Time slows down as you reach for the doorknob, a flood of memories racing through your mind. Countless chats online, the late-night phone calls, emails, texts, and all the photos we've exchanged. For two people who have never been in the same room together, we know each other intimately.
You open the door slowly and suddenly it's real, I'm standing on your front porch, one hand resting casually on the handle of my small rolling suitcase, the other hand in the pocket of my black slacks. I'm dressed simply, with black leather shoes, matching belt, and an untucked light-blue button-down shirt. Business casual, a look that says I'm happy to see you but without expectations.
We stand there for a long moment that feels like an eternity, seeing one another for the first time. I look you up and down, trying to act subtle but you clearly see the way I look you over, taking in every inch and curve. After all of our chats and calls you know exactly where my eyes will linger, and what kind of thoughts will likely follow.
Caught up in the moment, your rehearsed greeting is gone, but before the silence can become truly awkward I step forward through the doorway. We're just an inch apart, but you stand your ground, so close that you can smell the hint of aftershave on my skin. We gaze into each other's eyes, still searching for the right greeting, but before you can say a word you notice a different look in my eyes. A fierce, hungry look you have only imagined during our late-night phone calls.
I press my body into yours without warning, pinning you to the doorframe. Suddenly my mouth is on yours, tasting your lips quickly before moving to your neck, trailing wet kisses down your collarbone. I grind my hips into yours, pinning you tighter against the doorframe, letting you feel the outline of my hardness through the thin fabric of my slacks. I bend my head to kiss across the tops of your breasts while my hands sliding along your hips, as if I have to experience every inch of you all at once. You wonder if the neighbors might take notice, but the thought is banished when I reach back to firmly cup your ass in my hands.
My hand slides up your back, fingers running through your hair and then tangling it into my fist, exerting just enough pressure to make you look up into my eyes while I kiss you again. My tongue slips between your lips, searching for your own, and as they touch I press my body even tighter to yours, grinding my hips against you with a nearly frantic desperation. Lost in the moment, you can't tell if we've been standing in your doorway for a minute or an hour.