"Pretty please?"

"Pretty please," he whispered as be tugged at the hem of my shirt, "let me see them, it's been too long."

"Pretty please," he whispered with his face nestled in the valley between my curves, his hard body pressed against mine, the longing quite apparent, "let me in."

But no, he would wait. I would make him wait, as he had done to me.

This encounter was not expected, at all. His text surprised me, mainly because I didn't recognize the number. I had already deleted him from my phone, written him out of my life; conversation steadily declined after our hook up, and I am not one to be ignored. He laughed it off when I questioned who he was, and quickly propositioned me. With all the drama of late, I was quick to say yes. But it would have to wait until after my coffee date. 

He made me wait again after I got there, sitting outside his house like a stalker as he "tidied up." Waited again in his living room as he conversed on the phone. I was this close to leaving when he led me into his bedroom. And everything fell into place. This time I had no problem stripping down, pressing my body against his as I traced the contours of his body with my fingertips. Each pass venturing further south, lingering here and there, watching him rise. With him on top, grinding his hard cock against me, trying to get in, I had no problem teasing. Watching him squirm.

He's quite the fan of my "bombass titties," burying his face in them as he whined. I rolled him over, straddling him, my nipples within mouth's reach. Arching back, hands on his thighs, grinding into him now. Even my hot wet mouth didn't suffice. He needed to be in me.