Yes, Please

I went to the party expecting to mingle and socialize, and without the barest hint that I would find myself with my skirt around my hips, my fingers tangled in a strangers hair while he fucked me against the bricks of the wall at the back of the house only a couple of hours after I arrived. But that's getting ahead of myself.

I came to the party, as it were, still feeling your fingers in my pussy and ass, your voice in my ear demanding I come again, my throat raw from screaming in pleasure, edging into pain. So, frankly, I was tired, and replete. I was certainly not expecting to feel that jolt of excitement when a stranger walked into the room and caught my eye.

I was also not expecting to feel that pleasurable ache of my pussy lengthening anticipatorily the instant he struck up a conversation. He was talking about airport delays, for goodness sake. That's the least sexy topic in the world. But, no, there he was explaining his absurdly long (heh) layover in Charlotte (where apparently they have free wifi), and all I could think was how much I wanted his mouth to be doing something else right now.

I'm afraid I was not a great party guest. I scarcely said hello to any of the many people there I know and like, and as the conversation progressed from small talk to actual getting-to-know-you chat, the remembered feel of your fingers wrenching orgasms out of me like lightning bolts slowly morphed into the fantasy feel of his fingers drawing me into a pool of longing.

There are certain advantages to being a woman in her thirties.

I also had planned to stay at the party for the whole evening, but when he invented an excuse to leave and invited me to join him, it might as well have been 1am, I was so ready to go. We'd gone from flirty eye contact and a socially polite amount of space between us, to barely politely devouring each other with our eyes and a hell of a lot of invented excuses for touching each other whenever we laughed or made a point. And I liked how he'd moved up close to me while I leaned against the wall, so there was hardly any space between our bodies, which might as well have been on fire at that point, for the heat coming off us both.

We walked down the steps hand in hand, and he said, "Follow me." He led us along the side of the house, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I honestly thought he was taking a shortcut to where he'd parked or something. We turned the corner to the back of the house and he stopped and turned to face me. "I don't want to go get a coffee," he whispered, his lips nearly touching mine. "I want to fuck you until you can't breathe, and I want to do it now."

I swear I nearly came just from his words, and I think I moaned, "Yes, please," the instant before he had me pressed up against the bricks, his knee between my legs, his tongue between my lips, his breath racing just as fast as mine. "Yes, please," I begged as I felt his hands pulling my skirt up, and, "yes, please," again as his fingers teased the damp curls at my pussy.

"What do you want?" he asked in a tormentingly soft voice as his fingers traced my lips with maddening delicacy.

"Oh, god, please fuck me," I groaned.

With his other hand, he gathered a fistful of my hair and clenched, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. Again, I nearly came. "Tell me what you want," he demanded.

"Please, I want you to fuck me. I want your cock right now," I gasped, still desperately trying to grind my cunt against his fingers.

"Yes," he growled. He bent down and kissed me hard, using his body and the wall behind me to hold me up while he fumbled around his fly. I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and the next thing I knew, I felt his cock slipping against me, teasing again. "You want a stranger's cock in your pussy?" he asked, drawing out the moment.

"Oh, god, yes, please," I whispered again. I may not be articulate when I want to get fucked, but I mean what I say. "Please..."

"You're so hungry you can't even wait to get me home," he observed. Later, I would remember that HE was the one who'd brought us back here, but in the moment, the only thing I could think was how desperately I wanted to have him inside me.

"Yes, yes, yes, please," I said again, clenching my hands in his hair and drawing his mouth down to mine. Maybe if he couldn't talk anymore, he'd get down to business.

And, indeed, the instant our tongues found each other, he pressed his hips forward and I felt his cock slide into me, spreading me open with the intense pleasure that the first thrust always gives me. And now I did come, trembling around him uncontrollably, and he laughed with pleasure at my gasps.

I lifted my leg to wrap it around his hips and he took advantage of the new angle to press himself deeper into me, until I felt the pressure of his cock against my cervix. "Yes, please," I moaned, arching against him. He took a slow rhythm, pulling his head back to watch me while we fucked. I was torn between the desire to be kissing him and the pleasure of watching each other come closer to orgasm. I hate having to choose.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me and guiding my movements to match his, moving faster now, impatient to reach the point we were both striving towards. I felt the prickling heat gathering in my pussy, sparked higher with each movement, and before I knew it, I was again gasping, "please, please, please," as the heat burst up my spine and into my head, throwing my head back and holding my breath as the orgasm rushed through me. He kept me pressed against the wall as I arched against him, and then I felt him shudder as his orgasm threw him against me, fucking me still, but in arrhythmic jerks now.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," I muttered into his jacket collar, not yet returned to words.

"I told you I wanted to fuck you until you couldn't breathe," he said smugly.

"And I told you, 'yes, please,' " I returned, equally smug.