Wicked Wednesday, better late than never

 5 AM is early for most people, hell it was early for him.  Shaking the sleep from his eyes and wiping the sweat from his brow he slowed his run to a light jog.  As he neared the corner to the alley he walked and took a deep breath and stopped the music on his phone.  He punched up the audio recording and pressed play as he turned the corner.

He was never ready for the feelings, they were both crushing and exhilarating all in one.  A feeling of excitement and remorse.  It hurt every day, but he needed it right now.  He started walking down the rough pavement his eyes on the ground, breathing deeply.

Her voice echoed in his head, he could never make out what the first words were and his memory of the event was unclear.  The recording had been an accident, he had found it later and they had listened to it together and laughed, then made love.  He continued to walk down the street feeling himself harden as his senses were flooded with her imagined scent.

The rustle of the bedding as they she fell into his arms and her soft moan as she pressed against him.  Whispered promises, and more kisses, then the unmistakable uttering that shook him:

"I want your cock."

His eyes looked up to the dark window past the stairs.  His feet and body willed him to move in that direction.  He must have looked drunk to anyone watching, with his slow weaving path down the street.  He closed his eyes as he heard the clink of a belt, a zipper, the rustle of clothing, then the soft moan.

He could feel soft lips on his cock, her hand holding him.  He wanted so badly to release, he wanted to walk up those steps and knock on the door.  He could hear the sounds of her sucking him, his moans.  He stopped next to one of the street lamps and looked up at the window.

Another rustle of clothes and movement on the bed, she giggled.  He leaned against the lamp post and closed his eyes.  The vision of her half naked, dress pushed around her stomach revealing her breasts.  He strained against his tight jogging pants as he imagined her weight pressing down on his cock, the strain against the head before the wet release as she slid down him with a gasp.

She whispered to him softly, just enough for the recording to pick up.

"Fuck me."

He closed his eyes, his hips moving slightly as he remembered the deep strokes as he held her.  Her gasping, his grunting.  It was quick and passionate.  They came together he could feel her lips press against him as she shook, goose pimples raising in waves on her thigh and ass.  His release was massive and he could only cry out incoherently.

Deep breathing...

A giggle...

His chuckle...

A kiss....

More sounds of movement were all that one would hear on the recording, but he remembered the glint in her eye as she moved down and cleaned his cock.  Her dirty, erotic, tease as she sat back and scooped his cum from her pussy, letting it drip down her fingers.  Her smile as she tasted it.

The recording stopped.

His body shook as he opened his eyes and looked up to the window above.  He knew it was an empty room now.  He still paid the mortgage every month.  The key was in his pocket, he could feel the weight of it with each step, hot against his leg.

He had only been in there once since she left.  Sooner or later he would have to let it go but imagining  someone else in her space seemed impossible still.

He turned and walked away, started a slow jog as he neared the corner.  As he turned down the main street his pace quickened, the music and pounding of his heart driving out the ache and desire.