The Fool

She totters along the uneven Melbourne street. Shit! She hates heels but they are expected. Her stomach is full of butterflies- happy excitement at FINALLY meeting him. The restaurant is romantic. Intimate. She has been there before. She laughs out loud that it must be the place that Scorpios like to take Leo. It's only lunch, but this is the only time they will lay eyes on each other. May as well put on a good display.

They know each others faces, but when she walks in and sees him sitting at their table, he makes her stop in her tracks. She thought he might be awkward or weird in person.... there was always that risk. Nope. Had she known him before? Past life and all that? What was supposed to be company and online chatter for a lonely, partnered woman, developed in such a way that they thought it would be nice to meet each other in person. Nice turned into fucking excruciating. She pushed aside the urge to jump across the table, straddle him on the chair, pull his glasses off and start devouring him instead of ordering. She also shifted in her seat and discovered that her body had started to respond in appreciation of who he turned out to be. She wondered what he thought of her. Anything?

Over lunch she discovered that in person he was as sweet as his words that appeared on her screen. So smart, in intellect and presentation. His strong frame made her feel safe, protected -how protected does one have to be eating Italian? His hands were big and she knew her hand would feel little in his. She was nervous as she ate, a knot in her stomach. Why? He is just a friend, someone to keep her company. So why did it feel like a date with "the one"?

It was so wonderful to feel his interest in her. As though what she said mattered. Her days, usually long and tiring, nights lonely and quiet. She'd done the right thing, hadnt she? Her partner is good looking, a great lover, good provider- but distracted. Permanently distracted. Someone or something was always invading their space, and he was always looking for the next thing to do. He didn't avoid her, he just had a drive to accomplish so much. She was proud of him, but lonely. And wondering whether this was as good as love got.

She wished she could see her friends body that lay under the suit. Was he tanned? Hairy? Cut? Big? Oh for fucks sakes- concentrate!

He was funny, sweet, and charming- but all good things must come to an end. Their time flew by too fast, and she found herself walking him down the street back to work. Longing to feel the littleness of her hand in his. Her hopes of her ESP messages being delivered screaming at him- desperate for him to kiss her- were undelivered. She imagined him pushing her against her car, passionately kissing her and making her cum by thrusting a finger inside her. Her legs wobbled at the thought. They stood staring at each other in an awkward moment and they kissed each other good bye on the cheek.

Driving home, tears fell as she thought of the missed chance to say what she really thought or felt, about him. Love is brave right? A life lived in fear is a life half lived....Love takes the chance even if there is a risk of no return on the investment...

At home, the patent heels were quickly kicked off into her wardrobe and her blush and black dress was pulled over her head revealing the unappreciated black bra and French knickers. Flopping on to the bed, her mind decided to wander back to lunch in a positive way. Now she knew who she was dealing with, her pleasure would know no limits.

Opening her bedside drawer she ignored everything except her favourite lube. Closing her eyes, and remembering his strong image, she used her hands to gently run across her bra, up over her neck. Oh how his lips would feel, slowly kissing her neck. She then inserted one finger into her mouth, pretending he was leaning over her, offering her his cock to suck.

Undoing her bra, drizzles of lubricant fell onto her naked chest from the bottle she held above. She took her hands immediately to cup her breasts and then roll her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. She gently tugged on them, imagining him nibbling them, then sucking them, softly, then hard. Really hard. She liked that. Her hands were flat and running across her stomach, and inside her knickers, edging them down over her legs and onto the floor.

With her left hand she covered the top of her mound, and ran her right hand inside the crease of her c*nt, every bit of her wetness as a reminder of how much she was aching for him across the table. No lubricant required here.

Teasing her clit, she wished he was licking her hood, engorging it so much that her clit would inevitably increase and swell. That his large tongue was scooping up the cum that he had drawn from her, and finally pressing it hard against her clit, going back and forth.... Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop.... I'm so close....She cried out and pushed her fingers deep inside herself, wishing that it was his cock. That he could taste her, and then press his mouth forcefully against hers.

Her hands became frantic, finally pushing her over the edge into orgasm, her clitoris the first to give way, followed by the inside of her pushing forward a steady stream of contractions. Her body writhing on the bed, feeling wet against the sheets. She shook, her aftershocks from her pleasure, and finally a million dollar smile creeping across her face with sleepy eyes.