Quench My Thirst...

"Come over. NOW" I whisper into the phone the second I hear his voice on the other end of the line.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. But I can hear him fumbling for his keys. I imagine him, shirtless, in his low slung jeans, padded around the hardwood floors of his apartment barefoot.

"Bike or car?" he asks quickly.

"No time for a bike ride. I need you here as quickly as you can get here." And I hang up.

I recall one time earlier in the summer when he made it here in 7 minutes, but he was around the corner at his friend's house.

Tonight he is home, and that is at best a 30 minute drive in from the city.

He makes it in 20.

Damn, that boy is fast.

He calls me as he pulls into the driveway and I meet him at the door wearing a purple satin robe and nothing else.

I pull him up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom and then take a second to look at him.

He looks divine. His shirt is open, his dark blonde hair disheveled, and slightly damp. I must have gotten him fresh from the shower. My mind sets on that image as I pull his shirt off, kissing him on the neck.

He leans forward and takes my nipple in his mouth and I moan into his fresh-scented hair. His hands move down my sides and over my hips before going straight for their target. I place my knee on his thigh as he sits on the edge of the bed and starts finger fucking me, twisting them inside my velvet folds.

My knee moves between his legs and rubs his hard cock through his jeans.

"These need to come off now," I begin "And this time I get to touch."

"Do you now?" he laughs as he falls back on the bed and slides them down his legs. Thank the Gods for men who don't wear underwear. It is a wonderful thing.

"Yes. No teasing me." My fangs are out. The sweat is dripping down my neck even though the room is cool. I always sweat when my fangs come out.

He smiles slyly as my hand grabs his cock and I engulf it in my mouth, bringing him all the way to the back of my throat.

He grabs my hair and rolls his hips as I suck him, feeling every vein as I swirl my tongue around his beautiful cock.

I rake my teeth along his shaft as I pull him out and he moans his appreciation. (Yeah, he likes when I do that, don't ask)

Quickly his clothes are shed and I am over the bed as he pulls my pussy lips apart roughly and shoves his cock into me, as far as it will go. I jump forward and moan but my head goes down and my eyes close as he pumps into me. Grabbing my hips he lifts my feet off the floor and demands I get on the bed on my stomach.

I am in no mood to argue, as long as he gives me what I need.

He spreads my legs enough to re-enter me and I close my thighs tightly.

As he thrusts between my closed legs and into my wet, hot cunt, he grabs my hips and holds tight, concentrating on the task at hand: bringing me off.

It doesn't take long; the skill of his fucking sets me off, my clit alive and grasping at his shaft to nuzzle against it as he pushes and grinds, having learned my triggers so well.

I begin to cum, balling my fists and mumbling expletives as I do when I cum hard.

He leans forward, dripping sweat onto my back before spreading my thighs with his knees. He continues to fuck me until I am a rag doll, limp and wet and swollen.

Still wanting more.

Hey, he's 27, he can go for hours.

It took 3 hours to properly quench my thirst.

And no morning hangover.