Tomorrow

She could still see his face when he asked, struggling with the internal debate.

“Do you ever ask yourself how it ends?”

It didn’t matter that she had; the question still felt like a punch in the stomach, even after having time to digest it. It was a logical question, and she was a logical girl. He was only voicing what she knew was an inevitable question.

Here in the dark, with just her own head replaying the conversation, she felt that tightness in her chest. It was too late to be ambivalent, and for as much as she told him “you just need to tell me when it’s time to stop,” she secretly hoped that day would always be some other day. Remembering his face, she was pretty certain he wanted that to be some other day too.

There was a point when “stop” wouldn’t have hurt. Right now, she couldn’t remember when that point was anymore. She only knew that she wanted one more tomorrow. And the price she’d pay for one more tomorrow would be a little more hurt, eventually.

So she lay back on the pillow, closed her eyes, opened her heart a little wider, and admitted to herself that she cared enough to deal with the pain. Even though it could hurt more tomorrow that it could hurt today.

She felt the tear slide down her cheek; heard it hit the pillow. “Tomorrow,” she thought.

Satin and Patent

It was our compromise to be together. He sat half naked in bed, wearing only a t-shirt, flipping pages of the report, making notes. I grew restless of my presentation and set it aside; I needed to get my things ready for an early morning departure. I tried not to think to hard about it; his scent still lingered in the room, in the sheets, on my skin. Tomorrow it would be gone, except in my memory. I kissed his cheek as he read, then hopped off the bed.

The room had a chill; I slipped the little pink satin chemise over my head. He glanced up for a moment and smiled, then looked back down at the papers in his lap. I tidied up the room, packed up a few things, laid out others for the morning. I gathered laundry in a bag; realizing we wouldn’t be going out again, I decided to throw the pink panties I was wearing into the bag as well.

I pulled out my shoes, to set beside my clothes for tomorrow; the darling little brown patent leather sling-back, peep toe pumps. I slipped them on again - I never tired of how delicate they made my feet look or how great the angle of the heels made my legs look.

“Want to see my new shoes?” I asked, bending over to pick up some more of our scattered clothes.

“Come here.” It was a command. Soft and gentle, but firm, like all of his. I walked to the end of the bed. “Are you wearing panties?” he asked. I shook my head from side to side.  A grin flickered across his lips, then disappeared. “Come here and show me your shoes.”

I walked all the way around to his side of the bed where he could see. “Those are so sexy, baby.” His voice lowered, a huskiness to it. “Come here. Turn around."

I walked over, and stood beside him. I turned slowly, my back to him. He lifted the edge of the chemise, running his hand over my ass. “Turn around,” he said quietly, pulling my hips. I turned to face him. “Show me the shoes,” he commanded, not letting go of me, slipping one finger between my legs. I stood on one foot, and pulled my other foot up to my side, trying to keep my legs from trembling while he teased my wetness.

He let go of me long enough to push aside the papers in a neat stack. Then he reached for me again, his hands sliding under the hem of the chemise, caressing my ass. “Come here,” he said, pulling me toward the bed. I reached down to slip off the shoes, but he stopped me. “No. Leave them on.”

I crawled on the bed, straddling him. Placing a knee on either side of him, my shoes turned carefully outward so as not to scrape him with the heels. He raised the hem of my chemise, looking up into my eyes, then held my hips, settling me over top of him. I felt him slip easily inside of me. He paused, savoring the connection again, one that never seemed to lose its intensity. “What do you call this,” he asked, stroking the pink satin covering my breasts, making my nipples rise under his fingers.

“A chemise,” I breathed.

“You look beautiful in this chemise,” he murmured.

He reached down to stroke my legs, touch my shoes. I leaned down to kiss him, and he let the edges of the chemise drop, draping our hips where they joined. He pulled at the neck, sliding it over my shoulders, letting it drop around my waist, exposing my breasts to his view. The satin puddled across my hips, covering him as well, resting lightly on my heels at his side. He grabbed my feet again, holding my heels as he stroked.

The movement came natural again, like it had the first time, and every time. And the reaction came naturally too, like it had the first time, and every time. And when it was over, I lay exhausted on his chest, breathing hard, sweating, everything hot to the touch. Except for a cool pool of satin, and brown patent leather.

Three

You sat back in the shadows, where I could barely see you. A candle burned on the nightstand; moonlight was the only other light in the room. But I could hear you breathe, groan, shift in your place. I knew you had to be stroking yourself, but couldn’t quite see it. I could only see him, over me, sheen of sweat in the candlelight, stroking, his face intense. I could see him glance over at you now and then, sometimes a hesitation in his glance.

He moved his hands to cup my breasts, squeezing the nipples; I heard your sharp intake of breath and felt myself clench around him. He looked in your direction, then leaned down to take the nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely, and I arched up, ready to explode. His stroke and his mouth took me over that edge in seconds, and I reached up to hold the headboard with one hand, and raked my nails down his back with the other.

He pulled back, his cock slick and shiny in the moonlight, motioning me to turn over. I turned in your direction, seeing your face bathed in moonlight, catching your eye and the smile at the corner of your mouth as I took my position on my hands and knees. He rested a hand on my ass while he positioned himself; I locked eyes with you as he slid inside. Although your body was still in shadow, I could see your neck and shoulders flex as your hand gripped your cock, stroking downward. You closed your eyes for a minute, tipping your head back, your hair falling away from your face. I watched your jaw clench, and then saw you rise from the chair and step toward the bed.

I felt him pause as you approached, your cock smooth and hard, right there in front of my face, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the shaft and the swollen head. You reached out to touch my cheek, brushing my hair back behind my ear, tracing your hand down my jaw, and tipping my face up to you. You looked into my eyes, but your request was to him.

“Please,” you pleaded quietly. Your finger traced my mouth, and I opened it, involuntarily, catching the tip of your finger and sucking it. “Please. I need her.”

I held my breath, waiting, and my muscles clenched around him involuntarily when I heard him his “yes” between clenched teeth. He pounded his cock harder into me, as if needing to prove possession. You looked down at me, smiling, letting your cock graze my cheek. Then you dropped to your knees in front of me, your face only inches away from mine. You pulled my head close, making our foreheads touch, running your hand up and catching the back of my hair, pulling me close for a deep kiss. You broke away, holding my head in both hands, pulling my hair around our face like a curtain. You kissed a trail to my ear, whispering the whole way.

“Tell me how much you want me . . . tell me how much you want to taste my cock . . . tell me you want to suck on my cock . . .” Your breath tickled my ear and I whispered a frantic “yes” to each of your questions. You held my face tight against yours, whispering into my hair, your fingers tense. “Tell me you want me. Tell me . . . tell me you love me.” My heart clenched at the same time my pussy did, and I held my face against yours, whispering in your ear, “I love you. I love you . . .” You muffled the last words as you crushed my mouth with a kiss, whispering “I love you too” into my mouth, the words only we could hear.

Then you stood, still holding my face, guiding your cock into my mouth. My eyes locked on yours as you slid further inside my mouth, letting his thrusting motions push my mouth farther and farther down your engorged shaft. I heard him groan, and felt him pull out, hot thick cum spattering my back and my ass. Watched you gaze flicker over to him stroking his cock behind me, but only for a second before returning to my face. Then you watched me, my lips wrapped around you, and nodded your head. I could feel your cock expand in my mouth right before you came, and watched your jaw clench. You hissed through your teeth as you came; “I love this . . . you . . . “ and I could taste that salty, sweet fluid at the back of my throat, feel your fingers run through my hair, watch your eyes close. You pulled out of my mouth and knelt again, kissing me, running your tongue inside my mouth as if to taste every last bit of yourself. I let myself lay on the bed, my head next to yours, fingers playing with your hair. Perfectly content.