Thursday, 30 December 2010


Do you believe in fate?
I do. I believe there is one person out there who is made for you and that person is your absolute fit.
It was fate that took me into the cafe, fate that made me forget to pick up my purse that morning, fate that you happened to be standing just behind me and offered to buy me my coffee.
How could I say no? Those blue eyes combined with the dark hair, and then your voice just about made me wet on its own. I’ve never been able to resist an Irish accent.
Instantly the attraction was there. I knew it in the way you leaned across the table as you spoke to me. Your fingertips, almost hesitantly against my forearm, as if you couldn’t help but touch me. To make that contact for the first time.
When people talk of electricity, this is the moment they speak of. The frission of excitement passing between two people when they touch for the first time and know it is only the start.
We talked for hours that first afternoon, with you supplementing my caffeine intake in a bid to keep me there. Of course I would have stayed if you’d only offered me water, but how were you to know? Afternoon quickly drew on to evening, and still we had no intention of parting, drinking in information about each other’s lives as if we were dying of thirst.
We both knew where this was going. Neither of us naive young virgins. When you finally suggested going back to your place, we both knew it wasn’t for more coffee. Yet still my heart thumped as it never had before, my blood rushing around my veins as if it was my first time.
But it was my first time. At least with you.
When you kissed me it was as if I felt the sensation of another’s mouth against my own like I never had before. Your tongue explored my mouth, gentle and teasing at first, but then growing with intensity. Your fingers laced in my hair as if this was the one place they belonged.
Every movement stole another breath from my body.  Your hand crept lower, reaching beneath my shirt, cupping my breast. Your thumb stroked my nipple—now hard in your hand—and my whole body shivered.
As you pressed your body against mine, I could feel the hard ridge of your erection beneath your jeans. How could anything excite me more, knowing how much you wanted me? With nimble fingers I slipped your hard length free, and my fingers encircled the satin soft skin, stroking you even as you gasped into my mouth.
Within moments our clothes were pulled aside and you dipped your fingers between my thighs, feeling how wet you had made me.
How did you know exactly how to touch my most intimate parts? The way your fingers just seemed to know exactly the right way to stroke my clit, how your mouth knew how to work every inch of my body.  And, when you finally slipped your cock into my wet folds, pushing, hard inside of me, thrusting into me over and over again, I truly believed I found the one person I would spend my life with.
 I refuse to believe that the perfect fit of your cock inside of me is an accident. It’s as if we were created as an extension and an inversion of the other.
Only together do we become a whole.


Copyright © 2010 M.K Elliott
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.


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