Delayed

He got to the hotel and took a shower. Sat in his sweatpants and a t-shirt and checked his phone. Turned on the tv because he was nervous and anxious and bored. He knew she’d be texting him any minute, or, he thought she would.

Sure enough, there was her name on his phone. Her message told him her flight was delayed, that it would be after 1 AM before she’d even land.

He put on some pants and a button down shirt and went to the bar, ordered a bourbon and cola.

He finished the drink, had another.

Went back upstairs, got out his iPad and watched a little porn. Thinking of what he would do to her when she arrived.

Finally, she landed and messaged him. Another 30 minutes or so.

He took another shower, mainly to kill time. Plus, he wanted to smell decent when he saw her.

She was in the lobby now.

She was tall, pale, with jet black hair and bright blue eyes. She wore boots, meaning she was at least three inches taller than he was.

The elevator door closed, and her lips (painted deep purple) were on his. His cock was already rock hard and there was pre-cum leaking through his khaki pants.

The door to his room closed, and he turned around. She was kneeling and he noticed the black nails on her hands as she worked his belt loose. Unzipped. The head of his hard cock pulsing above the waistband of his boxers.

She reached in, pulled him out, tasted him. He looked down at her, told her he’d been waiting for this for nine years. She took all of him in, and her tongue reached out and caressed his balls. He was in heaven.

Yes, her flight had been delayed that night. But he’d been delaying this moment for nine years.

It had been nine years since he’d agreed to meet her at a coffee shop and let her interview him. He had a Ph.D. and used the research method she wanted to use for her own dissertation. He was ten years old, a writer and professor. He was what she wanted to be.

After that interview, she’d texted him. Told him he was insanely attractive. When he responded with a simple thank you, she just smiled. Inside, she was unsure what that meant. Did he want her? He’d seemed interested, engaged.

Still, she messaged him later about another meeting, a follow-up interview. He agreed. This time, he sent her a message after hours of talking about numbers and models and formulas. He told her she was brilliant, that her mind drove him insane.

She messaged back that her mind and body were both his if he wanted.

When she returned to school after her flight, she went straight to her room and came to thoughts of him fucking her over a desk filled with charts and graphs and data analyses.

They lived many cities apart, and they both were technically partnered with others. Still, they maintained a vibrant and flirty texting relationship. He’d send her short videos of him stroking his cock and saying her name. She’d send him articles she’d written about their mutual research interest.

Over the past nine years, they’d meet two or three times a year for coffee. Always lost in conversation, always tremendous sexual tension.

Then one night, a few months ago, after another long coffee meeting, he asked her to come to his car.

Once inside, he pulled her face to his, tasted her lips, and they both got lost in desire. Their hunger was seemingly insatiable. She had a date with a friend, and had to leave, but he would have fucked her right there if he could have. He walked her back to her car, kissed her once more, and they left.

This time, though, the texts after were every single day. He had a business trip coming up not far from her and they’d get together.

She made up a conference to attend in the town where he was, booked a flight.

Now, she was looking up at him, his thick, hard cock in her mouth. She was in disbelief, really. Was this happening? Was this beautiful, brilliant man in front of her.

Not only was he in front of her, but also his dick was in her throat. Her own pussy was so wet it was dripping with pent up desire.

She stood and faced him. Took off her boots and jacket. Told him to lay back on the bed. He pushed his pants and boxers off and complied with her request.

She knelt in front of him again, licking and sucking and teasing his hot cock. His dick was incredibly hard, very thick, a decent length.

She climbed onto the bed and held his cock in her hand, held it against her clit, pressed it into her pussy.

He could not believe how wet she was. And then he realized how tight she was - her grip was incredible, stronger than any he’d felt. She moaned out his name as the full length of him thrust into her.

She rode him hard and fast, as if she couldn’t stop, couldn’t help herself. He told her to slow down, but she just kept going. She was wearing her shirt and nothing else and she was lost in the feeling of him inside her.

He grabbed her waist, admired her pale figure. Held her to him, felt her heat. He was holding her as close to him as she would go, pushing into her, grinding and he felt himself letting go. His orgasm was heavy, intense, he let out a loud “fuck….” and his cock pulsed cum deep within her.

Now they were side by side, she was stroking his hair. He eased his cock into her wet, cum-soaked pussy and she placed her fingers on her clit.

He felt her moving close to her own orgasm as he looked into her eyes and slowly rocked her body. Her climax sent him over, and for the second time in just over an hour, his cum was inside her.

They fell asleep like that, at nearly 3 in the morning. After nine years of waiting. Nine years and one delayed flight.