You know who you are from our conversations, private messages, erotic little profile comments and pictures. A couple of you know my first name, what I look like, and support me when I’m having a bad day. You have given me shoulder to cry on when I’m having a bad day. YOU know who you are. So I’m thinking of YOU. I fly out to see you in your country, state or city. We are in an elevator (or lift for my British folks!) going up to your apartment (or flat!) or an hotel room. You try to be a gentlemen, at first. But the excitement of having me in your reach, and the urge to be on top of me, or in me, is too damn strong. I glide along my slit and lightly pat, tap, and caress the triangle mound, still over my underwear, still teasing myself. You pin me against the wall and you bend your knees a bit because I’m so fucking short. You take my hand in yours and lay the biggest, deepest most amazing kiss on me. It’s a battle of tongue supremacy as we go at each other with relish and sheer. I put a hand on her shoulder to start bending her over, and brought the facecloth to her mouth, pressing it between her lips. "Bite down on this. You need a gag." A second or two later I positioned my cock at her opening, and slid into her in one stroke. The gag didn't block her moans, but I was fairly certain it would cover any yelling or screaming she might do.I knew we didn't have a lot of time, or my mother was likely to come knocking on the door of my room. Once I was fully seated in her depths, I grabbed both of her hips and started pulling back, then driving forward quickly. The slap of my hips against her ass was met with a grunt from her, but with her jaws clenched on the facecloth, not much noise came through.I started using my grip on her to both push her away and pull her back, at the same time as my hips worked back and forth. This was going to be more like a quickie than a session of love-making, but neither of us would really notice the difference, since the goal was an.
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