Watching Waiting 3

He checked his phone once again, cupping his hand round the glowing screen to get a better view. A tiny map was showing. He took two shaking fingers and zoomed in on the image. It took a few seconds for the Internet to catch up, but eventually the map stopped being blurred and icons popped into place.

Yes, yes, this was the right building on the right campus at the right... (he checked his watch). At the right time. Cardiff, on campus, at University, outside the block of flats. He looked casually over his shoulder at where the security cabin was. One lady was sat, watching something on a black and white television (did they even exist anymore?!) and paying almost no attention to her surroundings whatsoever.

He adjusted his glasses and smiled. Now he was here, sneaking into the flat shouldn't be too difficult.

He walked along the slightly damp grass, keeping an eye on the security guard, but the lady had stirred only once, and that was to lift a cup of tea to her mouth and slurp from it noisily. He walked to the door to the flats and made a show of rattling it, pretending to try and get in. He slipped his phone into his pocket and pretended to look for his swipe card.

"Shit!" he cursed (convincingly, he hoped). "Shit, I must have..."

The guard didn't even look up. She hit a button beside her and the door clicked, then returned to her television as she absently waved him inside with a digestive biscuit.

"Oh." He paused. "Thanks." He slipped into the flat and heard the door and its locks click shut behind him. Well, that was easier than expected.

He checked his phone and got up an e-mail: Floor 4, Room G. He started to make his way upstairs, smiling as he let a cluster of foreign students pass and mentally counting the steps as he climbed. (Seven up, then a flat walkway across, then seven up, then a flat walkway... and so on.)

Eventually, Floor 4 was there. He felt his hands shake a little, but he tried to throw these feelings away. He wanted to feel prepared. He shot out a handful of quick breaths and opened the door. It was meant to be locked, too, but she had already told him it was faulty after a house party and a fire extinguisher and a bet and... and things had been hazy after that.

He walked down the corridor, smelling pasta and lager as he wandered past the kitchen, and nearly tripping over a pile of crumpled sheets left outside one of the bedrooms (Room D. He noticed someone had graffitied it so it now read 'Room Dickhead'.) And then he was there: Room G. He held up his hand, bunched into a fist, to knock, then stopped. He was shaking. He squeezed his palms shut, feeling little C's of nails imprint upon his palms. He went to knock again, still nervous, hovering his fist in front of the door, then, with one final exhale of breath, knocked four times.

"Come in."

Her voice! How could he have forgotten her voice?

They had met in an entirely different country and drunkenly, fumblingly, kissed, but no more. He had regretted it, misreading her signals that she wasn't into it, and made some poor excuse and walked away, but they had stayed in touch and talked online, but only ever with words.

Ah, but

what

words. Words that were hesitant at first, then more bold. Words regretting not kissing, and then not taking it further, and then what would have happened if they

had

.... And then an invite to her halls of residence in Cardiff, a few remarks about parties and broken doors and how easy it would be to sneak in, a date and time and here he now was and there she now was. Come in. Two words. A promise. Come in. Come in.

Come in? Of course.

He pushed back the door, and caught a brief glimpse of her sat on the edge of her bed, slightly drumming a hand on her leg and looking a bit nervous: not as much as him, but still. It was oddly comforting. She looked up, switching the nerves off, and smiled up at him, her green eyes staring straight into his and her smile stretching across her face, the shine of gloss catching in the light on the bedroom ceiling.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hey you." He walked over, then stopped, noticing her bare feet, red nails looking newly applied. He took off his own, tatty Converse and shuffled them to one side along with his bag and coat. He walked over to her bed and sat next to her, his hoody feeling heavy as well as his jeans, the room feeling warm.

"Hi," he smiled.

"Hello," she smiled back.

There was a long silence, the two of them just staring at one another, then he slowly, cautiously, slid his hand onto hers. It felt a bit awkward, a bit clutzy, but she turned her hand around and squeezed his tight, rubbing her thumb across his palm. They both looked at their hands for a bit, her fingernails red like her toes, both waiting for the other to look up.

She did first, but he was quick after. He leaned in, no more words, and kissed her, softly, on the lips. A slightly wet kiss, her top lip grazing his, bottom lips clumsy and sliding. It was lingering, but the second was briefer, drier, just lips together now, and then a third, like the first but quick, and then again, but this time he pressed his tongue onto her lips and, pulling away first before returning quickly, greedily, she returned, her tongue flitting over the tip of his to begin with, pausing their lips to flick, frantic, heavy, and then she pulled him into her, wider mouth now, tongue heavier, massaging his, rhythmically lapping onto his as their mouths circled, lips firm together, her hands tracing up and down his leg as his hands grasped the top she was wearing, fingers clumsily tracing skin around her stomach, both of them with eyes closed.

She pulled away first, but he pushed back, a soft kiss, teeth grabbing a hold of her bottom lip and tugging it towards him before kissing her again, lips closed, firm but holding, holding, holding. Five seconds, ten, more. She let out a moan, a sigh, and he felt his breath grow hotter. She pushed him back and, without saying a word, pulled up his hoody and t-shirt and kissed his belly.

He took the hint and took his tops off, slowly, though not intentionally so: just that awkward clumsiness that comes when trying to do something quickly. He threw them to one side, atop his bag, and fiddled with his watch, removing that as well and throwing it away, not reacting when it clunked heavily against the metal leg of her bed. His glasses were on the duvet and he went to throw them, too, but she stopped him. He put them on and kissed her again, his hands now inching up her top and kneading her skin.

"Yes..." she muttered and, with much more ease than he had, took off her top and put it down on the floor, grabbing him now and kissing him harder and faster, tongue exploring his mouth, teasing the tip of his tongue before tracing his lips and kissing him again. He felt her dark blue bra and breasts push into him and slid his hand up her back, her kisses growing more gentle now as he slowly pulled his fingers down, lines downwards as his hands went from just above her bra strap to just over the tip of her jeans and then back up, pushing under her bra and then down again.

"Is this okay?" he muttered. She looked amused and a bit confused, as if to say 'well, obviously' and kissed him again to shut him up, his glasses jolting as her face pushed harder onto his. He took them off now and she didn't protest.

He bit her top lip again, lip gloss now sticking to his skin but he didn't care; he sort of liked that feeling of her moving onto him like that. He kissed, pecks, away from her lips, across a cheek and down to her neck, slowly moving across, big kisses, his tongue licking up the skin as he kissed each part, sucking a little hard as he reached the other side and then moving up, kissing just beneath her left ear and breathing hot air onto it, kissing her ear lobe and then moving across again, finding her mouth which eagerly tasted her lip gloss and his spit.

She casually unhooked her bra, eyes closed, until the straps felt looser and the material less taut. She wrapped her arms around him, their closeness pressing her bra up and keeping it from falling down yet. She kissed softly, gently. Enjoying it before things grew hotter, both of them holding the moment before they did what they desired, had dreamed about and talked about and masturbated to for a long time now.

Finally, he pulled away and, kiss drunk, they looked at one another, smiling, her cheeks as red as his, lips already pink and flushed. Breath torn, foreheads resting on one another's, her hands grasping his skin near his belly, his holding her tight, feeling her back.

"I want to fuck you," she said, simply. Not laughed, not whispered, not slowly breathed, just said easily.

"I want to make you cum," he replied, voice deeper than usual, feeling her hands slightly-- slightly-- tense at the words. He tried again. "I want to fuck your cunt and make you cum for me."

"Oh yes?" Eyes still not meeting.

"Yes." And he kissed her hard, her hands now pulling him into her again.

She took off her bra now, her large tits exposed and rubbing onto his chest as he leant forward and kissed her neck again.

He moved down and kissed across both breasts, hovering above her right one and then flitting his tongue across it, feeling it stiffen just before he sucked on it, hard and firm, tongue lathering it with wet spit as his hands pushed it up so it covered his chin. She let out a moan so he moved to her left tit, this time sucking straight away, catching her by surprise, her nipple hardening straight away as his spare hand squeezed the nipple on her other breast.

She let out a real gasp this time and bit her bottom lip as he sucked more on both of her tits, caring rather than greedy but wanting her to enjoy it. He moved his kisses down, kissing round her belly and the tip of her thighs. He pushed her back and, together, they slowly pulled down her trousers, revealing a laced pair of black knickers, the material hiding her pussy. Her took the trousers off and dropped them on the floor, arching up again to lean onto her and kiss her, his hands in her hair, her tits wet and hard and pushed into him, her hands gently inching down his jeans and feeling his arse above his boxers.

He moved off and, looking at her straight in the eyes, kissed firm on her knickers, pushing down where he pussy lips would be. She smiled as he did it again, kissing up until reaching skin then going down again, breathing in the mixture of cunt and material. He moved to her thighs and kissed up them, feeling her laugh a little and sigh as his lips traced them both, tongue gently gliding up, breath hot on her skin.

She slid a hand down below her knickers and, feeling for a moment, started to rub small circles around her pussy, looking at him in the eyes as she did so, smiling slightly as he undid the top button of his jeans and pulled them down, noticing for the first time how damp the bottoms were from when he had snuck into her flat what felt like a whole hour ago now. He took them off, socks at the same time, her eyes drifting down to the bulge in his boxers. He rubbed a hand over it, feeling his dick beneath them, turned on that she would want it.

He leant over, looking into her eyes as he sucked hard on her nipples again, one hand finding hers and rubbing on top of it as she played with herself harder and faster now, eyes meeting. She stopped quickly to pull down her knickers. He wanted to just look at her cunt now and go down there, but knew how much she liked to... tease like this. Wasn't that all she had done with her words for months now?

His hand found hers again and guided it down to her pussy, rubbing it with her as his mouth found her tits and sucked and bit and watched her eyes as she shut them, opened them, shut them, clenched, moaning now, pants, little ohgods, eyes wide.

"Fuck..."

Enough now. She moved her hand away and he kissed her, her teeth biting him this time, lips wet and hot. It didn't last long though. Both of them were eager to move on.

He kissed down again, between her tits, over her chest, licking her belly, kissing down onto her thighs, around them, over the tip of her pussy and onto the other thigh, down then up across the inner thigh, until his lips were hovering just above her pussy now, his eyes looking at it. It was shaven, already wet and shining slightly, the smell of it making his cock even harder, her eyes pleading at him. He spat on it, a long string of saliva hitting the top, and then, eyes still, meeting, hands pushing her legs further apart, he licked upwards, softly, slowly, from the base of her pussy to the very top. She didn't even try to muffle or silence her gasp as he did it again, stopping at the top now to suck, hard, on her hood, his tongue then lapping at her pussy, tasting the labia and swallowing her cunt's juices deep, sucking and tasting and feeling his dick ache for her. She tasted so fucking good, better than he had hoped for or ever really thought about: hot and sweet and wet and rich, her cum white as his tongue tasted it and he slowly slid a finger into her. He pushed it deep, hard, fast, repeated, and heard her moan greedily. He slipped in a second, tongue and mouth sucking her clit, teasing it hard and firm as his fingers arched up into an L and tugged hard, his jaw aching but his mind telling himself to not stop, to never stop, to keep on fucking her cunt and sucking her clit and tugging her hard and her voice.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK."

No other words needed. Fuck. Her whole pussy swelled and body arched towards him as she came on his tongue. He waited a few moments, kissing her damp thighs as she caught her breath, then returned, just mouth now, sucking her clit and lapping at her labia, swirling his spit onto her pussy lips until her cunt came again and she ground his head into her, holding him there as she came once more and he tasted it flow onto him, her pussy now wet and red and white with spit and juice and her own cum. He kissed her, and she tasted that faint tang of herself, of her pleasure.

She pushed him back, not saying a word, and before he could start to, pulled down his boxers until his cock arched up. She grasped it hard with one hand and pulled it up and down as she made sure his boxers were off. Her green eyes were wet and she looked at him, pulled her hair back with her other hand, and took him straight into her mouth, deep straight away, not bothering to tease. Her mouth was tight and her tongue wet and firm against his cock as she quickly sucked hard, varying the pressure of her tight mouth and tongue, her hand gripping firm so she could suck easier. She moved up and played with his head and he felt his body and breath shake as her tongue tasted the precum on the slit of his dick, a small thread of cum and spit pulling upwards as she tasted it and smiled, licking her lips and then dick head again, her eyes baring into his, so fucking greedy and wet and wanting to make him turned on as that made her even wetter and more wanting and willing and greedy. She licked down his shaft and sucked on his balls, hard, jerking his dick as she did so, returning to his cock and sucking again, just the tip this time, both hands wrapped around his shaft, mouth and tongue and spit wet and soft then hard then harder then softer, tight and warm as he slowly groaned and knew this was the best he had ever fucking had. He, the man who had always preferred giving; who had never really gotten blowjobs. Fuck. Now wanting to fuck her mouth but not needing to as she did it herself, one of her hands now up and scratching down his chest. She pulled up and kissed him, then his neck, returning his favours from earlier. A suck, hard, on his neck, a bite on his shoulder, sucking both his nipples, licking down his belly and making his whole body shake with a thrill and tickle and genuine turn on as she did so. She noticed so did it again and again, before sucking his dick head some more, tasting all she could of it but not wanting him to get too excited. Just excited enough.

"And now, I'm going to fuck you," she said, laughing and moving up to kiss him, a fast and needy make out.

"Not a fucking chance," he smiled, and leant up so they were both on their knees, making out. He tasted so much now: her, her spit, his want, their desire.

"I want you," he muttered, kissing her again.

"I need you," she said, biting his top lip and then kissing him.

He pushed her back and arched up her knees so she could take him deeper. He rubbed his cock, sticky and wet and hard, over her cunt and then, slowly, carefully, pushed himself into her, feeling his dick slide into her tight pussy and hearing her let out a sigh as he did, too. Months and months of waiting and masturbating and cum and the morning before this night, both aching; the week before, both wanting to cum but holding off for now, for this right now, this moment.

He bent over and kissed her, then pulsed his cock, sliding it slowly back out then hitting hard into her again, and then again, faster now, firmer, quicker and stronger as he kissed her, a slow make out instead of quick like his cock. She panted, higher and quicker and whining, as he fucked her, his arms wrapped round her legs to keep them back, holding her face as he kissed her and tasted her tongue and gloss and sweat, her eye shadow streaming now, as his dick fucked her harder and firmer, his foreskin sliding in her tight pussy. She put a hand down and rubbed her clit as he kept on fucking her, slowing as she let out a scream, and then fucking her faster again, teasing her. His cock felt so fucking deep and so fucking perfect inside her cunt. She never wanted him to leave her. She just wanted to stay there on her bed as he pushed and pushed deeper and faster into her and she felt herself cum over his dick and kiss him needy when she did, her tits bouncing, hard and so fucking sensitive, her clit almost wanting to

not

be touched it was so much.

He slowed again then quickened and she pulled him firmer into her, pressed hard now, just speaking into his ear: "Fuck me. Fuck me fucking cunt. Make me fucking cum and fuck fuck fuck fuck me just fuck me harder don't fucking stop. Give me that fucking fuck yes fuck don't fucking stop I fucking love I love I love yo I fucking fuck don't oh my fucking god fuck yes yes yes yes fuck yes."

He kissed her neck and felt as she tightened and came again, then slowed, for good this time, kissing her lips now, sliding out and resting on her as he kissed her softly, gently, caring. The boy who didn't just want to fuck her but liked her, too, thought she was beautiful. And she, the girl who wanted more.

She slowly eased him back until she was on top of him, then held his hands and sat on his belly. She kissed him, eyes closed, hands stroking his head, then arched her knees up so she was squatting over him. She found his cock (not difficult as it was still hard and needy) and used a hand to guide herself onto and around it, her pussy parting easily as she slid him into her, her hand returning to his and squeezing it hard. She teased the head of his dick, pushing up and down just on the tip, watching him moan involuntarily as she rode him, moaning himself, partly through the feeling and partly through him being so turned on by her.

She pushed down now, gasping as he filled her cunt, and squeezed his hands tighter still as she rode, up and down, fucking him faster and filling herself deeper and groaning when he groaned. His turn to talk dirty now.

"Fuck. I fucking love it when you fuck me. I want to make your fucking cunt feel so fucking good when I fuck your pussy. I want to make you so fucking wet and-- fuck. Oh, fuck, god, you're so fucking good, you feel so fucking good. I've wanted you so fucking badly and... fuck."

He lost his words, just repeating fucks, not as able to hold on as she was, which made her happy as she swirled her cunt around his dick, leaning back to tease her clit with it some more, feel it angle into her differently, hit that different spot and gasp as it made her legs light and tingle and head full only of wondering how they could stop and why they would want to and why she hadn't visited him or he visited her before Cardiff because fuck fuck fuck.