As soon as the door closes behind us, I am on you.
I shove you back against the wall, grab a fistful of your hair, jerk your head back, then sideways. Your eyes widen, you try not to resist. Your head smashes against the wood as I push myself up against you, my mouth on yours. I open my mouth, forcing your lips apart, I suck your breath, your arms automatically go around my waist as you pull me harder against you and seek out my tongue with yours, you strain forward against my grip in your hair to get more of my mouth, I pull harder on your hair, reaching for you at the same time as I keep you from getting more of me. I push my hips forward to get contact with your cock, wanting to feel it harden against me, I grind my pelvis against you, close, closer, not close enough.
I pull away suddenly, your head still held back by my fingers twisted in your hair. Your whole body strains to get at me, but you know better than to try. We are both breathing hard, I release my grip on you.
“Hands behind your head,” I command.
You immediately comply, locking your fingers behind your head, your eyes on me.
I step back, looking you up and down, seeing the outline of your cock hard against the front of your jeans. You wait, watching me, awkward, slightly self-conscious under the scrutiny. I see you struggling not to make a smart arse remark into the silence, you are uncomfortable, want to break the tension. I savour your unease, taking my time.
You keep your eyes on me as you quickly shed your clothes, throw them aside and stand back in position.