They don’t live that far away from each other – just across town. But the relationship is young and there are families to consider. His children. Her child. He’s only twenty miles away, but circumstance has drawn the distance out, unraveling it to immeasurable lengths. It might as well be two thousand.
Two thousand would almost be easier. Two thousand is distance on a grand scale. I would get in the car and drive for days, just to feel his mouth, she thinks…his warm lips and clever tongue; those sweet, slow licks….. She would drive two thousand miles to feel his mouth between her legs.
Two thousand gives the gesture a rosy, cinematic glow…but twenty is not two thousand. Even without her baby asleep down the hall, she can’t travel twenty miles – not on Christmas Eve. Not when their lives have only just begun to nudge into one another. Twenty or two thousand, seeing him is a fantasy on the grandest of grand scales. Reality is reality. You can’t always get what you want.
She lights a fire in the grate, and turns off the lights – all, except for the pretty ones on the tree. The last time she saw him, she’d only just put it up. She lets her mind wander as her robe slips off her shoulders. She’ll wake up to Christmas carols getting yodeled at dawn, but for now the flat is quiet and the night is young. She can kneel in front of the fire and think of him.
The last time they’d seen each other he’d undressed her in front of the fire, unwrapping her slowly as if she were a gift. Her breasts tighten as she remembers his hungry, slanted look and his fingers grazing over her dips and hollows. There is nothing like needing to fuck a man who needs to fuck you back….
She kneels before the fire and imagines him behind her. She smells his scent in the wool of his sweater and feels denim against her skin. A shiver runs up her spine. She feels everything – her thick pulse and aching breasts. Her slick, wet cunt. She’s so wet she looks at the fire and imagines melting into herself.
She spreads her legs a little. The carpet rubs her knees as she spreads them a little more. Then she leans back on her heels and dips her hand between her legs, all the while imagining that her hand is his. In her mind, thick fingers find her plump, sensitive clit. She thinks of his hands before letting her mind drift. She imagines his breath on her shoulders and sweat pooling between them as he sinks his fingers into her warm, wet cunt.
She spreads her legs even more and pinches her nipples, thinking of his mouth. Oh, that mouth, that mouth…. Parts of him and all of him fill her mind as slides two fingers into herself, followed by a third. She knows how to play herself, and she plays herself right to the edge. Then she holds herself there for as long as she can while the fire pops and glows.
She lets the heat lick her skin until her long dark hair sticks to the back of her neck. She lets her mind stretch and retrieve him, heedless of distance and circumstance. She reels in mile after unraveled mile until he is with her in the warm, little room, cocooned in quiet night. She feels his cock inside her. A perfect, easy fit. Then she lets herself come.
She cants her hips and bows her back, riding out the long, slow tumble and release. Everything in her expands and for a moment she isn’t there at all. She is the shape of how good it feels. Then draws her robe over her shoulders and reaches for her phone.
“Hey, you. Are you busy?”
“No – I was just going to call. I can’t stop thinking of you.”
She smiles and looks into the fire. Maybe next year….
The story was inspired by “2000 miles” by The Pretenders – one of my favorite modern Christmas songs and the first prompt of Exhibit A‘s Awesome Christmas Erotica Meme. A new song title goes up every day between now and Christmas so click here to catch the prompts and participate (you should!). And click here to see who else is making merry this December.