Coming Home by Zoie Lane, general
Desiring the special feeling of being 'lost', she wonders if today will be the day.

Copyright 2009 by Zoie Lane, all rights reserved, Not For Sale

      Here I am again.  Why do I still get so nervous?  I have been coming here every Monday for several months now.  One would think the butterflies would have fled by now.  And yet, I can feel my hands start to shake.  Ever so slightly my adrenaline is starting to rise and my mind starts to race.  “What if today is the day, the day that I am lost to reality, to sanity, to independent completeness?”  Having felt the fringe of a world that I have never known before, a place of wholeness through submission, of oneness through the pain of letting go, I unconsciously yearned for more.

      I slowly walk up the sidewalk and as I reach the door I can feel my legs start to tingle in anticipation.  I press the button, the button that will summon him to the door.  I wait.

      And even though I’m expecting it, I startle at his beauty, when the door opens.  He still intimidates me, his eyes seem to search me and his smile almost mocks me.  And for what feels like an eternity I am possessed with a white glow flowing from my chest down to my toes.  When I feel the dampness between my legs I snap back to the front porch, where I am standing and where he is welcoming me in.

      I glide past him, hoping he doesn’t notice how nervous he still makes me.  Today I don’t pause inside the door way, I just continue through the short hall that leads into the kitchen.  That is my one act of bravado, my one show of independence.  My intention is to mask my timidity, by acting as is if our Mondays were of no consequence.  To show how I was too confident to get anxious at the sight of him.

      So I stop as I reach his kitchen counter and before I could turn around I knew I had lost this one-player game.  I could feel his heat, as if he had pressed his whole body up against me, I could feel him right behind me.  And I flushed all over, my nipples started to ache as they strained against the lace of my bra. 

      Then he touches me, slight is his touch as he caresses my ass, but heavy is his breath as he leans in to kiss my neck.  At that moment I can feel the sweet wetness caress my freshly shaven lips.  And they pulse with anticipation as my silky juices flow onto my panties.  One kiss and one touch is all it takes.  And he must have known.

      “Is my pussy ready for me, sweet baby?” he asks as he lifted his lips from my neck.  A slight moan was all I can utter.  His lips grazed my cheeks as he pressed the whole of his body against my back.  I was enveloped in his warmth and intoxicated in his smell.  Then again he whispered “Sweet baby, I have missed my pussy.”  And I quivered as a white heat shot up from the center of my cunt and exploded in my head, making my whole body jerk and spasm as I cum at the mere touch of his body and the seduction of his voice.

      I am lost

      Gently he turns me around to face him, and I have no defenses left, I am his.  Unable to hide from his knowing eyes, as if my false bravado was ever a convincing mask, I look at him.  Possessive are his eyes as he caresses me and gentle are his lips as they suckle my lips.  “Better baby?” he asks as he runs his hands along my face, his head tilting slightly and a soft smile reaching his mouth.

      I nod.  I am lost.

      “My pussy missed me, my pretty pink pussy?” And he kisses me again, his possessiveness taking over as his hands tangle in my hair to pull my head back.  My neck arches exposing the glistening skin and his lips trail downwards to my shoulder, where I feel the pleasurable pain of his marking bite.

      I smile. I am lost

      I am lost to the overwhelming sense of pleasure, security and urgency his possessiveness invokes in me.  And I return the caresses as I kiss the sweetness of his neck and taste his salty essence. It was his turn to moan, as I whispered “Your pretty pink pussy has missed you.”  I felt his shiver and sensed his urgency now, as my hand found his hard dick straining against his jeans.

      His hands and his lips went wild, running over my face and neck, and roughly squeezing my breasts as he buried his face in my shirt.  Then his hands were under my shirt, scorching my skin and molding my breasts.  His urgency was overwhelming my senses and I had no control.  I was reaching for the button on his jeans, but he moves out of my grasp, as he shows me his dominance. 

      Unbuttoning my jeans, he franticly pushes them down and buries his face in my pussy as his tongue reaches out to lap up all the sweet juice that has escaped and he groans with pleasure.  “Ahhh, my sweet pussy.”  I barely heard him sigh.  And he slowed his tongue but continued to push it deep between my swollen lips, as if to satisfy my ache, but only enraging it more.

      He gently pulls his face back and I can feel myself start to protest.  “My sweet baby, don’t pout, I only want to stop so that I can look at my pretty peach,” he says with awe, as his fingers part my lips to expose my clit, and his eyes gaze at his prize possession.  Unable to deny himself any longer, he presses his mouth against my clit and swirls it with his tongue.  The swirling, the lapping, the hot red heat of his mouth claiming his trophy, is truly a pleasure for him.  Ever so gentle is he as he worships my clit.  I watch him, his face presses up against me, and the watching undoes me.  Sensing my urgency he looks up at me, his eyes clouded with desire yet filled awe.  I go over the edge, the desire in his eyes being too much for me to resist, I come, and his mouth greedily sucks at my clit as if milking each and every spasm it can get.  Then he softly bathes me with his tongue, feasting gently on the pearl like liquid he has summoned from me.  And through the foggy haze I can hear him say “sweet baby, you are mine. My sweet baby, you are mine forever.”

      I am lost.

      Those words being so absolute ignite another flame in me and the heat glides through my veins.  Pulling his mouth away, my eyes snap open as the air intrudes on the junction where his face has snuggled.  He smiles at my panic, and says, “sweet baby will you let me have you?”  He leads me a few steps across the kitchen, to a bar stool and sits me down.  Looking at me he smiles and kisses the tip of my nose.

      I am lost.

      I watch as he unbuckles his belt and then his jeans.  He lets them fall to the floor, and I can see the evidence of his desire straining against the boxer shorts he is wearing.  So I reach out to free him and he moves my hand away.  Confused I look up at his face and he says, “Let me worship you, sweet baby, ahh you are such a sweet prize.”  As he speaks to me, he removes his boxers and frees himself.  Holding his straining cock and stroking it slowly, he says “Let me feel the sweet heat as I claim you as mine, ahh my sweet baby. Will you give me and only me that pretty peach?  Will you remember every day that it is my pussy, and only my pussy, and know how much I want it every day?  Can you see how my dick strains and longs to be home, home inside you?”

      I am lost

      The sight of him and the lullaby of his words trap me.  Then I feel it, all the watching doesn’t prepare me for the wholeness I feel as his cock pushes at the entrance of my pussy.  “Will you remember how my dick feels as it claims its prize, the tightness, the rightness, the feeling of coming home?” he whispers and I scream:

      “YES!” as he plunges so deeply into me that I am filled so completely, completely in a way that I can only know with him.

      I have come home.