03 August 2011

Your friend. My lover.

He was your friend. 

But he become my lover. 

You invited me over for dinner. 

A special evening you had prepared to help ease and remove the stresses of the week that I had had at work. 

I had been hesitant in making the trip.  The ninety minute journey was always hard work, especially on a friday evening. But I was free the next day and thought it was an ideal opportunity to have some time out. To relax and for us to spend some time together. That it would give us plenty of time to do all what I had planned and plenty of time for you to attend to the growing needs that my arousal from our time apart had created.  

It was a couple of weeks since I had seen you.  I was looking forward to it.  I had plans for you. Plans for us.  The beast had been kept within its cage and was prowling for release. The thoughts running through my mind had only served to increase my already aroused state.  Your own arousal had built each day that you continued to be denied and locked.  

I needed some time out, I needed to be treated, pampered, worshipped. And I knew that you were more than capable of doing all of these things. 

I could have had you fuck me the minute you opened the door and let me in. 

Instead we kissed, hard. A hunger and passion growing with every lingering second.  I wanted you there and then. And my hand made its way down your body, down to your hardening cock straining in the device which it had been in for the time we had been apart. The constraints it placed upon you causing you to gasp and moan, causing me to smile and laugh at your discomfort, at your pain.

And then he caught my eye.

Sat over on the sofa, he had been watching the growing passion between us.  I stopped and smiled at him.  I was annoyed that the plans I had for the evening ahead had to be put on hold but didn't show it to him. 

You said he was your friend. 

I whispered into your ear annoyed at this outside intrusion, "He will be my lover".

You stopped, looked at me. Eyes crestfallen.

You knew I wasn't joking.

You had decided to introduce us at dinner that night.  He and I never made it to dessert. As you cleared the table after dinner, the look in your eye as you glanced over to me said it all. 

Arousal. Jealousy.

Longing. Frustration. 

I told you to close the door as you went into the kitchen.  I knew you would be straining to hear any and every noise that you may hear and that not being able to would tease, torment and torture you. Now you would suffer for making plans without checking first.

He and I had moved into the lounge.

Sitting comfortably on the sofa we chatted freely and openly, and every so often I could hear you moving around in the kitchen, hoping for any sign, any signal of what was happening behind the closed door.  I knew that you were frustrated, annoyed, and desperately wanting to know what was happening.

He was different to you in so many ways.

But there was something that attracted me to him almost immediately.  I remember noticing the slight flecks of grey appearing in his hair, brought to my attention the moment he pushed his hand nervously through it.

I could tell he was a little unsure of what was happening, knowing that something was going to, but not having any idea what would.

I shifted myself on the sofa, bringing one of my stockinged legs up so I could turn and face him. His eye was drawn to the laced top which he could see through the split which ran up my thigh in the long ankle length skirt.  His hand was resting uneasily on his leg and reaching over to it, I stroked my nails teasingly along the length of his fingers, placing my own around his fingers, I moved his hand from his own leg over onto the top of my stockings as I told him to touch me.

He looked up at me. Up at the kitchen door. Confusion clear to see on his face. 

"It's ok" I said to him.

"He already knows"

He was shaking slightly. From nerves? No, not really. More so from anticipation, from arousal, from being unsure of what I was saying to him was right. He looked at me in somewhat disbelief as his fingers traced the lace around the top of my stocking, my legs moving apart as his hand moved more forcefully between my thighs, soon discovering that I wasn't wearing any underwear. His fingers soon found their way between my legs, my own body betraying the deep arousal that I felt at his hand, at what we were doing with you only a short distance away.

The groan that escaped from my mouth caught both him and me by surprise.

He stopped.

I looked at him, demanding him to carry on. 

He teased me with his fingers, plunging them deep inside, fucking me with his hand until I came on his fingers hard, my juices running over his fingers and as I removed his hand I forced his fingers into his mouth, he licked his own fingers clean before I kissed him hard. Tasting myself upon his lips. 

His cock was hard. 

His eyes slightly glazed, his breathing deep, yet shallow. A hunger growing, a passion building.  We kissed fervently, passionately, hungrily, hands roaming everywhere, clothes being removed with haste, abandoned as they were thrown without care.  Moans and groans clearly audible mixed with heavy breathing and passionate gasps.

The kitchen door opened, you had come to serve dessert, except, I was already having it.

I was having him.

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