otherguy
07-11-2009, 05:02 AM
"So... what's up?"
What's up, indeed. I could have called you and spent the whole night talking about anything: our kids, our classes, even politics - a rare thing in these contentious days. But there's only one real reason that I called, and your question allows me to cut straight to the chase without any small talk or awkward fumbling to move the subject in that direction before I get home.
"Well, actually, I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out for a walk, or a short drive or something."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. I just had the opportunity to get out of the house for a while, and I thought maybe we could hang for a bit."
My heart is racing at this point. I'm nervous, but at the same time almost trembling with anticipation. Maybe that second can of soda was a mistake.
"Weeelll, it's kind of cold to be out walking right now..." My heart starts to sink into my gut in disappointment "... but we can drive for a little bit, as long as I'm not gone too long. My husband gets off work around 2."
Suddenly everything turns around. MY heart shoots from my gut to my throat and I'm praying that I hadn't hit the gas so hard that I'd attract the attention of a patrol car. "I'm just getting off the highway now," the voice is almost surreal, as if I'm just dreaming, watching myself hit the jackpot, "I can be there in five minutes."
"Okay, see you then." Your sweet, inviting voice drops from the line and every inch of the remaining journey is a hundred miles. I can't get there fast enough. An eternity later, I'm pulling into your court. I've never been here and I don't remember the street number, but I'm hoping I can figure it out from the picture you showed me after you bought the house. The task becomes much easier when I see you casually seated in your garage, dressed in an old but comfortable set of sweats. I hope she hasn't been smoking, I think to myself. She can turn me on like a light switch, but the smell of smoke kind of puts a damper on things.
When you realize it's me, you burst into a smile and practically dance out to the car. "HEY!" you exclaim as you slide into the passenger seat. The door's not even closed yet, but you throw your arms around my neck in a fierce, long-overdue hug and plant a big kiss on my cheek. I don't smell any smoke. Good sign. I have to fight to keep it together a little longer. "Where to?"
I hadn't really thought much about it," I reply, "this is your corner of the sky, so I'll trust you to navigate."
"Okay, there's a small park not too far from here, we can just go there." A park? Had she been thinking the same thoughts as I - wild, forbidden thoughts that had been racing through my head since early this afternoon? I didn't dare to believe it. There were days I could easily handle talking to her, and there were days where she could get me so worked up that I would masturbate two, even three times in the same day and I STILL couldn't get those thoughts out of my head. I'm not so arrogant to believe I have that same effect on her.
As promised, we arrive at the park in a matter of moments. I find a spot just a little out of the way, and turn off the engine. I leave the keys in the ignition; I don't want to throw any vibes that I intend to be here too long. We've been friends for over a decade, and now was not the time to give her reason to question my dogged loyalty to her.
"It's just so nice to get out of the house for a little bit." Your voice jars me from my thoughts. I couldn't agree more. I look at you with a warm smile and simply agree: "Yeah." We engage in small talk for a few minutes, old friends who can always just pick up right where we left off.
"It's funny," you say, "I still remember the last time we were parked in a car together." I hope the growing bulge in my jeans doesn't betray the fact that I remember that same night in stark detail. I look out the window and try to collect myself.
"I know. It's weird that it's really been as long as it has. It seems like it's only been-tffffffff!" MY sentence is replaced by a sharp intake of breath. Your hand slides smoothly along my thigh and your fingers find their target: that traitorous bulge that is broadcasting my true feelings. I turn back to face you; your eyes are on fire. Suddenly I'm 20 years old again, and everything outside the car fades into obscurity. I don't wait for you to speak; your eyes are telling me the whole story, a story twelve years in the making. I run my hand along the back of your hair and bury my face in your neck.
Suddenly your whole body comes alive at once. With one hand you're immediately into my jeans and carressing me through my boxer shorts. I lean into you a little more, and slide my hand from your hair around to the front, tracing your curves along your collarbone and down, until I find a breast through your sweatshirt. You stop what you're doing just long enough to take both hands and pull up your shirt and your bra in one swift move. You take my hand with yours and press it firmly into your exposed breast. Even as I begin to squeeze, I feel your hand squeezing, too; our two minds are in sync. I hear a gasp escape your throat and you move your hand back down, freeing my imprisoned member from the confines of my boxers. There's a surge in my body; the second can of soda was a good idea, after all. I feel every inch of your fingers wrapped around me, pressing your body into me as you begin to stroke. Firmly, passionately.
Urgently.
After a decade away from these breasts, I don't want to waste any time. I move from your neck down to your chest and take the other breast into my mouth. It's big, bigger than I remember. I try to devour as much as I can, I am held captive by my desire to draw as much pleasure from it as possible. A tongue flickers across the nipple and it hardens in my mouth. I bite it ever so lightly with my teeth and you reward me with another soft sound. Half moaning, half sighing, you lean back a little in the seat, giving me easier access to the objects of my long-time fantasies and adjusting your grip on me.
I know now there is no turning back. I dive all the more hungrily into your breast, and move my hand down now, looking for the band in your sweat pants. I slide under them, carressing, searching. My fingers find a soft, familiar wetness, and I slide the middle one along the outer lips. So few encounters, so long ago, and yet it feels like we have known every inch of these bodies our whole lives. It feels so natural, so RIGHT.
I can feel myself starting to tense up; the raw excitement of the evening has had a strong effect on me, and if I want to finish you first I'll need to get moving. I push deeper into you, inserting the finger to the knuckle and stroking with more urgency. A guttural moan rises in your throat and I feel you tense up, grind into my hand. I feel myself gaining the advantage and press forward. I insert a second finger now, and sucking on your breasts like they were the last treat on earth. Your breaths are more ragged now, your moans coming in short bursts. I hear my name being called, it hangs thick in the fog of sex and sweat, encouraging me to keep going. Your hand feels so good on my dick, I'm trying to hold out just a little bit longer.
Within moments, I am rewarded for my perserverance. Your body tenses beneath me and I feel all ten fingertips pressing into my flesh. One last loud moan, and you whisper my name again as you inhale. Every muscle in your body curls into a ball and a fire burns fiercely from deep within your soul. And just as quickly as it comes, it passes. You let out your breath and your body collapses, slumping towards mine. I carress one breast gently in my hand and place a string of kisses along the line of your neck.
You only take a moment to catch your breath, and then you look up at me with a sly smile. Before I even have a chance to wonder what sinister thoughts are crossing your mind, you lean the rest of the way over in the seat. I feel myself engulfed in warmth as you wrap your lips around me and take me all the way in. My eyes roll back in my head and I hear myself groaning. Your tongue glides along the length of the shaft, reaches the head, swirls around it. Shivers run along the length of my spine and I arch my back.
You plunge back down now, and begin to suck in earnest. I've been so worked up for so long, I know I'm not going to last. I lean back and relish in every sensation, every tingling nerve. If this is going to be short, it's going to be intense. And sure enough, I feel the familiar surge building in my gut. I whisper hoarsely that I am going to cum. I don't want to surprise you. You surprise me instead, by pulling off and leaning forward a little more. You are now stroking me again with your hand and your breasts are dangling directly over my dick. You know that's exactly what's going to send me over the edge, and it works like a charm. I explode all over you, and all over myself. It comes in surges, bigger than I expected. I start to ache a little from emptying so much of myself. I collapse in the seat, still unable to believe this is how my night has gone. You wrap one arm around me and I reciprocate. I know we can only spend a few minutes like this before we have to clean up and go back home. But that can wait. All that matters right now, is right now, and these last few minutes I belong in the arms of an old friend, picking up right where we left off.
What's up, indeed. I could have called you and spent the whole night talking about anything: our kids, our classes, even politics - a rare thing in these contentious days. But there's only one real reason that I called, and your question allows me to cut straight to the chase without any small talk or awkward fumbling to move the subject in that direction before I get home.
"Well, actually, I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out for a walk, or a short drive or something."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all. I just had the opportunity to get out of the house for a while, and I thought maybe we could hang for a bit."
My heart is racing at this point. I'm nervous, but at the same time almost trembling with anticipation. Maybe that second can of soda was a mistake.
"Weeelll, it's kind of cold to be out walking right now..." My heart starts to sink into my gut in disappointment "... but we can drive for a little bit, as long as I'm not gone too long. My husband gets off work around 2."
Suddenly everything turns around. MY heart shoots from my gut to my throat and I'm praying that I hadn't hit the gas so hard that I'd attract the attention of a patrol car. "I'm just getting off the highway now," the voice is almost surreal, as if I'm just dreaming, watching myself hit the jackpot, "I can be there in five minutes."
"Okay, see you then." Your sweet, inviting voice drops from the line and every inch of the remaining journey is a hundred miles. I can't get there fast enough. An eternity later, I'm pulling into your court. I've never been here and I don't remember the street number, but I'm hoping I can figure it out from the picture you showed me after you bought the house. The task becomes much easier when I see you casually seated in your garage, dressed in an old but comfortable set of sweats. I hope she hasn't been smoking, I think to myself. She can turn me on like a light switch, but the smell of smoke kind of puts a damper on things.
When you realize it's me, you burst into a smile and practically dance out to the car. "HEY!" you exclaim as you slide into the passenger seat. The door's not even closed yet, but you throw your arms around my neck in a fierce, long-overdue hug and plant a big kiss on my cheek. I don't smell any smoke. Good sign. I have to fight to keep it together a little longer. "Where to?"
I hadn't really thought much about it," I reply, "this is your corner of the sky, so I'll trust you to navigate."
"Okay, there's a small park not too far from here, we can just go there." A park? Had she been thinking the same thoughts as I - wild, forbidden thoughts that had been racing through my head since early this afternoon? I didn't dare to believe it. There were days I could easily handle talking to her, and there were days where she could get me so worked up that I would masturbate two, even three times in the same day and I STILL couldn't get those thoughts out of my head. I'm not so arrogant to believe I have that same effect on her.
As promised, we arrive at the park in a matter of moments. I find a spot just a little out of the way, and turn off the engine. I leave the keys in the ignition; I don't want to throw any vibes that I intend to be here too long. We've been friends for over a decade, and now was not the time to give her reason to question my dogged loyalty to her.
"It's just so nice to get out of the house for a little bit." Your voice jars me from my thoughts. I couldn't agree more. I look at you with a warm smile and simply agree: "Yeah." We engage in small talk for a few minutes, old friends who can always just pick up right where we left off.
"It's funny," you say, "I still remember the last time we were parked in a car together." I hope the growing bulge in my jeans doesn't betray the fact that I remember that same night in stark detail. I look out the window and try to collect myself.
"I know. It's weird that it's really been as long as it has. It seems like it's only been-tffffffff!" MY sentence is replaced by a sharp intake of breath. Your hand slides smoothly along my thigh and your fingers find their target: that traitorous bulge that is broadcasting my true feelings. I turn back to face you; your eyes are on fire. Suddenly I'm 20 years old again, and everything outside the car fades into obscurity. I don't wait for you to speak; your eyes are telling me the whole story, a story twelve years in the making. I run my hand along the back of your hair and bury my face in your neck.
Suddenly your whole body comes alive at once. With one hand you're immediately into my jeans and carressing me through my boxer shorts. I lean into you a little more, and slide my hand from your hair around to the front, tracing your curves along your collarbone and down, until I find a breast through your sweatshirt. You stop what you're doing just long enough to take both hands and pull up your shirt and your bra in one swift move. You take my hand with yours and press it firmly into your exposed breast. Even as I begin to squeeze, I feel your hand squeezing, too; our two minds are in sync. I hear a gasp escape your throat and you move your hand back down, freeing my imprisoned member from the confines of my boxers. There's a surge in my body; the second can of soda was a good idea, after all. I feel every inch of your fingers wrapped around me, pressing your body into me as you begin to stroke. Firmly, passionately.
Urgently.
After a decade away from these breasts, I don't want to waste any time. I move from your neck down to your chest and take the other breast into my mouth. It's big, bigger than I remember. I try to devour as much as I can, I am held captive by my desire to draw as much pleasure from it as possible. A tongue flickers across the nipple and it hardens in my mouth. I bite it ever so lightly with my teeth and you reward me with another soft sound. Half moaning, half sighing, you lean back a little in the seat, giving me easier access to the objects of my long-time fantasies and adjusting your grip on me.
I know now there is no turning back. I dive all the more hungrily into your breast, and move my hand down now, looking for the band in your sweat pants. I slide under them, carressing, searching. My fingers find a soft, familiar wetness, and I slide the middle one along the outer lips. So few encounters, so long ago, and yet it feels like we have known every inch of these bodies our whole lives. It feels so natural, so RIGHT.
I can feel myself starting to tense up; the raw excitement of the evening has had a strong effect on me, and if I want to finish you first I'll need to get moving. I push deeper into you, inserting the finger to the knuckle and stroking with more urgency. A guttural moan rises in your throat and I feel you tense up, grind into my hand. I feel myself gaining the advantage and press forward. I insert a second finger now, and sucking on your breasts like they were the last treat on earth. Your breaths are more ragged now, your moans coming in short bursts. I hear my name being called, it hangs thick in the fog of sex and sweat, encouraging me to keep going. Your hand feels so good on my dick, I'm trying to hold out just a little bit longer.
Within moments, I am rewarded for my perserverance. Your body tenses beneath me and I feel all ten fingertips pressing into my flesh. One last loud moan, and you whisper my name again as you inhale. Every muscle in your body curls into a ball and a fire burns fiercely from deep within your soul. And just as quickly as it comes, it passes. You let out your breath and your body collapses, slumping towards mine. I carress one breast gently in my hand and place a string of kisses along the line of your neck.
You only take a moment to catch your breath, and then you look up at me with a sly smile. Before I even have a chance to wonder what sinister thoughts are crossing your mind, you lean the rest of the way over in the seat. I feel myself engulfed in warmth as you wrap your lips around me and take me all the way in. My eyes roll back in my head and I hear myself groaning. Your tongue glides along the length of the shaft, reaches the head, swirls around it. Shivers run along the length of my spine and I arch my back.
You plunge back down now, and begin to suck in earnest. I've been so worked up for so long, I know I'm not going to last. I lean back and relish in every sensation, every tingling nerve. If this is going to be short, it's going to be intense. And sure enough, I feel the familiar surge building in my gut. I whisper hoarsely that I am going to cum. I don't want to surprise you. You surprise me instead, by pulling off and leaning forward a little more. You are now stroking me again with your hand and your breasts are dangling directly over my dick. You know that's exactly what's going to send me over the edge, and it works like a charm. I explode all over you, and all over myself. It comes in surges, bigger than I expected. I start to ache a little from emptying so much of myself. I collapse in the seat, still unable to believe this is how my night has gone. You wrap one arm around me and I reciprocate. I know we can only spend a few minutes like this before we have to clean up and go back home. But that can wait. All that matters right now, is right now, and these last few minutes I belong in the arms of an old friend, picking up right where we left off.