Baxter sucks in a breath as he feels Maria’s fingers on the waistband of his shorts – his arousal is pressed uncomfortably between his stomach and the seam of the shorts and he resists the urge to reach down and free himself – better if she does it, he thinks as a tingle of anticipation makes his cock jerk. He feels a cool slickness soaking into the fabric of his boxers and against his skin – lack of an active sex life in recent months has made him as horny as a teenager and he worries briefly that he might go off like a rocket as soon as she touches him; he forces himself to reign in his imagination.

‘Yes, I can feel that you are very tense, Mister Baxter...’                how is it, he muses as cool fingers briefly touch the skin of his belly as she pulls the belt undone and then flips the button open, that a different accent can have the power to make him shudder? He opens his mouth to respond to her murmured observation but can’t think of a single thing to say. She doesn’t seem to mind, though – he sees her mouth curve in a smile as she looks downwards to where –as she pulls the shorts aside to expose the white cotton of his underpants- the bulge of his erection becomes visible to her. She licks her lips as her elegant fingers lightly smooth over the bulge of damp fabric, darker with the pre-come now seeping from his rock-hard cock.  Jesus, she needs to stop or he’ll.... he groans and pushes her hand away, his breath coming in short, hard gasps.

‘Don’t... I’m... too close...’

She brings her hand up to his face to stroke his cheek and he can smell himself on her fingers as she trails damp fingertips down his face to slide across his lips. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, his tongue flicks out to lick them, and he tastes himself on her skin, musky and salty, mixed with her own unique scent. Bloody hell, has she been touching herself?  He groans, lost and desperate for relief. ‘Please...’ he moans quietly; he’s hers now. He wants her and he wants her now.  Pre-come trickles down his cock and he pushes himself against her.

‘Do you want to fuck me, Mister Baxter? I think you do...’  she smiles (has she stopped smiling even once?) and takes her hand from his face to trail it down the side of his neck, down his chest; she circles a nipple and he gasps, feeling his cock tense.  Fuck, he can’t take much more of this...

‘Yes!’ he manages to croak. ‘I want to fuck you... please...’ he unclenches his fists from where they’ve been clenched by his side – he’d wanted her to make all the running, didn’t want to be accused of inappropriate behaviour - and brings them up to caress her back; she sighs and slides her hand completely inside his boxers, pressing the flat of her hand against the hard flesh. The sensation is unbelievably erotic, even though she keeps the hand still and does not touch the sensitive tip. He knows that his pre-come is soaking the fabric of his boxers and must be all over her palm – and as if guessing his thoughts she moves her hand against him; it slides as she traps the hard length of him between her palm and his stomach and he shudders.  He slides his hand down her back and cups her buttocks, squeezes. She gasps and pushes herself forward against him. She wants him as much as he wants her, he realises, and slides his hand around the front and up under her frock, across the flatness of her stomach and dipping down into the soft forest of hair. She’s not wearing any panties he suddenly realises, and almost comes there and then, his aching balls starting to tighten in preparation. It’s a miracle that he’s still hanging on, but he’s close now, too close...

 ‘Mmmm....’ she murmurs against his lips, and in answer he slips his index finger downwards, sliding them through her slick folds. She pushes against him and he feels her open up around him, warm and wet and ready.

‘Maria... I can’t hold on much longer... I need ...’  He reaches between them to pull his boxers and shorts right down and kicks them off, his cock springing free to bump against his stomach. Pre clings in sticky threads, hanging suspended between the tip of his cock and the skin of his belly like some surreal suspension bridge.

‘Yesss....do it, do it...’  Her breath is coming in gasps and he pulls back just enough to steer the head of his cock between her legs, sliding it against her warm skin as she reaches down to steer him between her lips. He thrusts his hips forward, burying himself in her wet heat. She gasps and rocks against him – his cock quivers inside her and with a groan he comes, jerking against her helplessly as he spills into her. He feels her clench around him, feeling her climax in waves of rolling motion against him as she throws her head back and groans softly. He folds his arms around her and pulls her to him, feeling the hardness of her nipples against his naked chest. He shivers, his suddenly over-sensitised cock softening and slipping from her to fall against his thigh.

As they lean against each other, recovering their breath, he realises that he’s hardly spoken a single word during the whole encounter, bar expressing his need to be inside her. He leans forward to capture full red lips with his own, and murmurs between kisses and thrusts of his tongue, ‘I’m not tense now...’

Fin

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