Dirty Imagines

I knew she was coming, I just wasn't exactly sure when she would get here. My loft was usually kept pretty tidy so cleaning up isn't necessary. I hung some of my laundry on a line outside. There was a gentle breeze blowing and I loved sound of clothes flapping in the wind and fresh smell the out doors gave them.
I walk back inside and put the flowers I had bought in a vase and put them on the table.
My books, papers and other reading material covered my desk. I could move things but would totally mess it all up. The time it would take me to get things back the way I like it would almost be irritating, I just leave it.
I hurry to the bookstore to meet her. I look around to find her and I don't see who or what I'm looking for. Someone touches my elbow, I turn and look. I'm startled.
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to meet you"
My she isn't a she, but a he. Harry Styles.
I exit the bookstore and he follows me. We say things to one another, me mostly trying to makes sense of what has just happened. I've been deceived and I don't like it.
Ah, the subject of fucking, of course he would want to discuss this in the middle of street. Is this all he thinks about and that every girl wants to fuck him? Well, I guess they do.
I hear a student demonstration and police so I instruct him to take refuge with me in a bar and wait it out.
I ask him why he lied to me and the explanation a good one considering what he wanted in the end, to meet me. It is obvious, it's not turning out quite like he nor I had planned.
Although he is somewhat of the pop star I imagined, he is a gentleman and offers to walk me home.
I walk him through the streets, talking along the way.
Some of the characteristics I imagine of his popularity have rung true. Though I do sense he is trying to find some clarity, to make sense of it all.
I stop and help a pregnant lady who has gotten overheated. He stands back and watches in astonishment.
We continue walking and talking. His ideas are self centered and somewhat amusing. All things centered around 'the product' - him. I detest all of these money making ideals.
I admit to him, I was drawn to him, almost as a moth is to a flame. I did my research and was pulled in by his pictures, attracted to him.
He was attracted to me for one reason only, the smut I wrote.
Attracted to him, yes, but I can't fuck the object of my thesis. I believe I've said it twice now, I must keep reminding myself.
He catches me off guard and he pushes against a wall, kissing me.
We arrive at my place and kiss as if there is no one else in the world as we ascend the stairs.
I open the door, home.
I drop my things in there usual place and stand in front of a window looking out over the city. I feel him as he takes his place behind me, I lean back into him, his arms encircle my waist.
I make my way, with him, over to the bed. I untie my skirt and let it fall to the floor. A little teasing never harmed anyone. Plus, he needs this. Not everyone will always just bend to his every need, want and desire. I unbutton my blouse so it drapes across me exposing some skin. He comes to me after he removes his shirt, exposing his especially fit chest and pulls me close, pressing his hips into mine. He places his thumb in my mouth and I bite him giggling, His lips on mine trying to capture my tongue.
He notices my nipple through my sheer blouse and takes it in his mouth and sucks it drawing circles around it with his tongue. I am in heaven. My back arches, my brain cuts in and tells me I must maintain some sort of control or he will have control over me, as with any other girl.
I sit back and rest on my side and tell him to remove his clothes, he's more than happy to comply. His finger tips glide down my frame and leave me tingling inside. He rests at my feet and takes a foot and kisses it, if he truly knew what he was doing to me.
He comes to me, his pelvis molding to mine as he enters me. My back arches in sheer ecstasy. He rocks into me with fervency. I've dreamt of this moment, with him. He's talking to me telling me to confess I've wanted him and dreamt of him. I have. Everything about him. His sounds, his scent, his quirky mannerisms, all of them, right here. I've felt the need to pleasure myself just thinking about him, this moment. He knows this. Every thrust inside of me is better than the last.
"Harder" I tell him. I want to feel it all. All of him. Our foreheads together as he pushes harder into me, my climax nearing. My body shudders at force and emotion of it all.
We fall back onto the bed, our breaths ragged. I laugh a little at just how intense all of that was. His arms pull me into him. He speaks of love and falling for him.
My brain takes back over, I will not fall for him.
He talks of something I don't think he understands.

Notes

I could never do your writing justice but I hope you enjoy.