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Old story, new friends
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Old story, new friends I originally wrote this years ago. Just shared it with a more recent friend. I thought some of you would like to take a read. |
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The Perfect Couple They seemed four good friends, getting together for dinner or Sunday football games or family play dates. The talk was innocuous: food and kids and camping plans and home repairs. But he and she had other thoughts they shared with each other, but not with their respective spouses, thoughts that left them aroused and anticipating. Thoughts kept private but always there, just below the surface. Thoughts of planning: how to take separate cars so as to arrive a brief span before their spouses. A span brief enough not to prompt questions. But a span long enough for them to hurry down to the family room to supposedly set up for the gathering. A span which in fact allowed them to press their lips and bodies together. A time just long enough for her to suck in her breath to provide space for his hand to slip behind the waist band of her slacks and panties. His fingers exploring her pussy, both of them knowing she would already be wet and he hard with the anticipation of the quick opportunity. They knew exactly how he could pleasure her, often allowing her to cum, and still restore their appearance at the sound of car doors closing in the driveway. They had become adept at the fast finger fuck and the hurried head. With just the briefest of eye contact they could agree to meet in a quiet part of someone’s house to “check on the kids” or slip out to the garage to “clear away these bottles and cans.” And before anyone would wonder or question their absence, she could have him out and blown and tucked discreetly back in his pants. They were sure no one suspected. They were the model spouses of the old normal: attentive and loving and respectful. They had only learned of their mutual frustration while talking quietly over the glowing coals of a fire after their families had gone into the tents for the night. Both couples had been drinking more than usual. The spouses had both been worn out and retired with the kids. The alcohol prompted conversation had drifted to intimate details: "maybe once a month," "often less"…"missionary," "fuck, cum and sleep"…"been more than a year." They looked at each other across the dying red embers, missing the same things: excitement, creativity, spontaneity. They longed to "make love" and "have sex" and "fool around" and "fuck." They wanted to have their hearts race and the gasp rather than the merely pleasant occasional, or less frequent, release provided by their spouses. They walked down the gravel road from the campsites to the pit toilets, just inches but still miles between them. The stars were so bright and numerous it was hard to recognize even the most common constellations. They could hear each other in the quiet of the night on their respective sides of the log outhouse. His zipper drawing down… the fabric of her pants being bunched down about her ankles. Their urine echoing in the concrete pit. He stood in the road staring up at the glowing clouds of the Milky Way and heard the door to the ladies’ side close softly behind him. The faintest crunch of her steps touched his ears just before her arms reached around his torso, one hand spread-fingered on his chest, the other on his abdomen. He held rigidly still, soaking in the heat of her body. He gasped as the hand on his chest rose to caress his throat and the hand on his stomach slid down stroking the shape of his cock, already hard from thinking of her. He turned to her, her hands sliding to the back of his head and ass. They pulled themselves to the other. Their tongues were searching each other’s mouths. Breaths came in gasps before they kissed evermore deeply. His right hand moved from cupping her ass tightly to the waist band of her sweatpants and down again now cupping warm flesh not fabric. Never breaking the kiss, she reached between them and boldly stroked his hard distinct shape. They were both panting into each other’s mouths, smelling the smoke of the camp fire in their hair and clothes. She made the choice, stilling her tongue and sucking his lower lip into her mouth. She unzipped his jeans, fumbled the waist button open and reached beneath his briefs to clasp his bare cock. His right hand slid across her hip to land between her legs. She stepped one foot slightly to the side giving him permission and access. His left hand tugged and teased at her rigid nipples. At the same instant they dove toward their common goals. His fingers traced the length of her slit, greeted by the moisture weeping from her lips. She jacked him like she remembered the high school boys begging for years ago, before she became merely a mom. His fingers crooked to open and enter her pussy. His precum slickened the contact between his cock and her palm. He explored the pad of flesh inside her vagina, pressing outward to force her clit against the palm of his hand, soaking with her juices. They stood quivering in the middle of the road bathed in starlight. He gasped “oh fuck” as his cum shot out on to her wrist and his stomach. She pulled herself hard against him as she moaned out her orgasm. The clutched each other, lips and tongues feverishly tasting while their hands milked the last sensations from their groins. They adjusted their clothing and walked slowly back to their campsite. Murmuring thank you and endearments and complements: "you’re fantastic"…."came so hard"……."could hardly breathe." The kissed deeply again outside their tents, both exceedingly careful to not let an audible sound be produced. They each remained awake for deep into the night, staring up at the dark nylon of their respective tents…planning a next time.
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