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As I heard the key turning in our door, I closed my laptop and got up to meet her. A minor benefit of working from home that I nonetheless appreciate is that I get to greet my girlfriend when she returns from her own work.

"How was your day?" I asked as she closed the door on the autumn wind, cold against my face. The sweet smell of leaves still hung in the air as she started unbuttoning her coat.

With a rustle of cloth she pulled her arms out one at a time, then shrugged the coat off. Even with her back towards me as she faced the hangers, I could see the tension in her shoulders, a strain in her bright, gentle voice. "Not great."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

She put the hanger back on the rack with a clink, then gave a slight shrug. "It is what it is."

Her belt made a faint metallic noise as it came undone. Back still turned to me, she hooked her thumbs into the waistline of her black jeans. Her shoulders sank with another irritated sigh. "Take off your pants and get on your back." She slid her pants and underwear down with the coarse noise of denim against skin. "I'm gonna ride you."

With her small frame, not even reaching to my shoulders, she can hardly be described as physically imposing. In public she is soft-spoken and mild-mannered. When she gets in one of her moods though, she commands a presence like a tidal wave: there is no resisting her, only letting yourself be swept away.

I felt a tightening in my lower belly; I love this side of her.

The linoleum floor was cold against my butt as she stepped towards me. Pants discarded on the floor, socks still on her feet, tufts of black unkempt pubic hair visible beneath her sweater, a frown on her freckled face.

My breath caught as she grasped me, autumn cold still lingering in her small fingers, contrasting the warmth of her tongue on my balls. Then as her thumb slid across the tip, I let out an involuntary sigh. She looked up, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly in response.

Meanwhile, her other hand was working hard to bring up her own wetness.

When I was hard enough to enter, she got on her knees, firm grip guiding me inside as she slid down, tight, warm and wet, settling on my hips with a heavy sigh.

Visibly impatient to get off, she moved her hips deliberately, hard and fast. Frowning. Eyes closed. Breath coming in rhythmic bursts.

Even under her sweater, bulky on her small frame, my hands knew the geography of her body by touch. The taut muscles of her butt. The slight paunch she's been developing, seemingly as a deliberate counterpoint to the slimness of the rest of her. The depth of her navel. The edges of her ribs and the firmness of her almost flat chest. The ridges of her spine and the scar across the small of her back. Her nipples, firm against my palms.

Her short nails dug into my wrists as her weight shifted, pressing them into the floor above my head, leaning forwards. As she picked up the pace further, I could feel the musky, warm scent of her arousal, her motions now accompanied by wet noises and the drumming beat of my own pulse in my ears.

"Look me in the eyes." Her face was inches above my own, her breath warm on my face.

She almost never makes eye contact. When she does, it is almost apologetic, a hurried glance before her eyes dart away again. But now as I looked up, her light brown eyes were boring into mine "Your eyes are so fucking pretty." Her voice, coming in bursts, was low, as if speaking to herself.

My skin felt electric as her fingers dug deeper. The juxtaposition of the softness of her words and the coarseness of her actions created an amalgamation of feelings, of warmth and cold.

I don't often finish before her, but she was a tidal wave and I was being swept away, tension mounting, looking for release. "I'm gonna come." My voice strained, my own words sounded alien to me.

With a slurping sound she slid off me and, releasing me with neither hands nor eyes, walked a step forwards on her knees. Her smell, already intense, filled my nostrils as she placed her clit above my mouth. A shiver seemed to run through her whole body as I touched it with my tongue.

She did most of the work, and it was short work at that. Her hips moved with renewed intensity, rubbing her taste, tangy, sweet and intimate, over my face, filling my mouth and my nose with her as I felt my own urge, now left with nowhere to go, throbbing in my groin.

Her orgasm was less like an explosion and more like the air being let out of a balloon; her furious energy dissipating, she released her grip and collapsed beside me, out of breath.

I was rubbing my aching wrists and dislodging a strand of pubic hair from my tongue when she regained her breath enough to speak. "Now let's finish you off."

I closed my eyes, settling into the rhythm of her hands, her taste still fresh on my tongue. This time she worked slowly, gently, barely touching, yet every touch sending a wave through my body. My own orgasm came as an echo of hers, a prolonged sigh as I sank into pleasurable tiredness.

When I opened my eyes she was distractedly licking cum off her fingers, eyes darting away from mine.

- - -

At the sound of the teacup placed at my side, I looked up from my laptop. She was smiling down on me, looking at her hands.

"Thanks." She said as she bent down, her lips brushing mine as she placed a soft kiss. "I really needed that."

I took a sip of the tea, felt the warmth spread in my chest as I watched her settle into the couch, feet pulled up under her, a book in her lap, then I returned to my work and tried to remember what I was doing.