Serious Moonlight - Sex Stories

Serious Moonlight

... same, every level of the parking garage, every entrance, every exit. He found a parking place finally, marking the spot in his memory—D5—but the irony was that every sign was the same too, E5, F5, G5, and he could feel his own particular spot already fading from memory. Wait. C5? Was it C5?

And, of course, after he’d rushed to get there and worried he’d miss her at the main gate when she arrived, he looked up at the bank of screens announcing arriving flights and saw her flight was delayed. He was right on time. A little early, even.

A cry of joy. He turned to see a woman in the crowd run past the tidy velvet-like fabric ropes used to keep lines orderly; she ran across the concourse with her rolling luggage off its wheels and canting crazily from side to side. She let go of it entirely as she launched into her lover’s arms and gave him a rodeo hug that looked like it had come straight out of a Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan movie. They kissed as he held her off the ground, twirling her in a circle. He set her down; they looked into each other’s eyes for an endless moment before succumbing to the urge to kiss again.

They kissed again.

He didn’t know if it was the real thing or not. It had looked so cinematic. He wondered if his own imminent reunion would look so larger than life. He glanced at the huge digital clock overhead. She was due any minute.

Then he heard his name.

He turned to the escalators, and within a few seconds of scanning the crowd, he found her face, ...

... head tilted quizzically, sly smile aimed in his direction, awaiting recognition. And he began to walk toward her, and she began to walk toward him, and he never knew if they ever ended up resembling the giddy reunion he had just witnessed because his mind was on her and nothing else, on taking her in his arms, kissing her, feeling his arms on her back as he felt her arms on his.

She broke the kiss. She put her hand on the back of his neck to pull his ear close to her mouth. He felt her red fingernails tickling along the back of his neck.

“Mark me,” she whispered to him. “Now.”

*

The ride from the airport was all small talk and quiet music on the radio, the car filling with a sexual tension so tangible it felt like fog pressing damply against their skin. They held hands for most of the drive, fingers idly at play, intertwining. They both wore small, knowing grins on their faces. Occasionally, they’d turn to each other, and the grins would dissipate, their eyes grow wide, envisioning the night ahead.

As they entered the motel room, he plucked a move from his fantasies and threw her against the wall, kissing her roughly. His palm pushed hard against her collarbone, holding her there. Greedy fingers pressed against the skin of her neck, feeling the muscles, the pulsing arteries. The placement and position of his fingers caught in his mind, a bookmark for some larger hunger. His hands quickly found her wrists, encircled them, and pinned them against the wall as their ...