Electrical Connection – Part 5 (Her Perspective)

The entire drive home, back to my home, but first back to King Shaka airport, to drop off my friend, I could not concentrate on the road ahead. All I could think of was this man, this stranger who suddenly turned my world upside down. Couldn’t I be dropping him off at the airport – couldn’t he have driven with me? But then, he had to have ‘lunch with Larry’ – his supplier’s boss. I thought, who the bloody hell is Larry, forget Larry – have lunch with me instead. I’d drop my friend off at the airport and then we could spend another hour consumed by this electricity surging between us.

Did he feel it too? What was going through his mind right then? Anything close to what was electrocuting mine? Or did he only think of lunch with Larry and not missing his flight back home?

Weeks previously I’d just ended it with a rebound-lover, met up with my ex-love and considered getting back together with him, even moving to Cape Town because work was absolute hell right then. All I wanted was to get away, have some excitement. And then this! This man! A man from Bristol came in to my life, this man who I’d met less than 48 hours ago and already I was making plans for the future that included him and only him.

From the moment we said goodbye all I’d wanted to do was make contact with him. I added the numbers from his business card to my mobile phone but due to the lack of signal my phone would not send messages. I failed to reach him this way.

My plan-making, while driving 4.5 excruciatingly long hours back to Durban, switched to what should have happened in my temporary room… The ultimate fantasy…

“You didn’t come here to look at the view, did you?” I said, slowly walking towards him.

“What makes you say that?”

“The look in your eyes”.

“What look is that?”

“You know; it is your look after all.”

“But I can’t see it. I can’t see what you see. Tell me.”

“It looks like you want to fuck me.”

He chuckled. Was that a nervous chuckle?

“Was that an inappropriate thing to say? I asked, grinning impishly at him, “Have I mistaken your look?”

“No, but I am worried that it’s an inappropriate look to have.”

“Are all British men so goddam polite, and worried about doing or saying the wrong thing all the time?”

He did not reply. He stood there, ran his eyes up and down my body and then took a step closer towards me. Slowly he reached out, grabbed hold of my wrist, pulled me towards him and passionately kissed my lips. I could feel his hardness against my pelvic bone. I could feel myself getting wetter.

“Put it inside me,” I whispered.

He unzipped my trousers, yanked them down along with my panties, ran a finger over my swollen clitoris, down in between my throbbing lips and stopped at the entrance to my mound.

“You’re so fucking wet!”

I groaned in acknowledgement.

He unzipped his jeans, tugging them down with his boxers. With both our upper bodies still fully clothed, he rammed his cock deep inside me; we both gasped at the same time, and locked hard together thrusting ferociously at each other’s groins. We kissed and bit each other. I dug my nails in deep, down his back, drawing blood, and over his buttocks making him push harder inside, deeper – as deep as possible – inside me.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed and then screamed as I reached my orgasm; an instant volcanic eruption.

He ejaculated only a few seconds later.

We lay panting side by side on the floor rug, shuddering together at the base of the bed.

“Now I’ll make love to you,” he whispered into my ear.

To be continued – final continuation to follow…