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It had been two weeks since my girlfriend decided to move out when her friend came to the door. I was happy to see her–though S. knew her first, she had become a mutual friend and, circumstances being what they were, I of course hadn’t seen her in sometime.
“B.!” I said. There was that brief awkward moment where neither of us were sure whether to shake hands or hug and in the end we did neither.
I can’t deny that there was a strange sort of punch-to-the-gut feeling seeing her here. Hurt by association.
“How’ve you been?” I asked.
“Oh… good.” She seemed a bit nervous. Distracted. “S. asked me to come by and pick up some stuff.”
Again that punch to the gut. I was smiling, of course, the way one always does when faced with a gorgeous girl. I didn’t know many people out here, and I’d missed seeing B. and other mutual friends as much as I missed S. But the smile suddenly felt false and I self-consciously became aware of the twitching in my cheek muscles. I was scared that I was burning up, so I stepped quickly to the side and said, “Sure, come in.”
B. went to the front closet and found one of S.’s bags. I followed her into the bedroom where she began picking things off the top of the dresser. Earrings, hair ties. There was no clear system to what she took, and I wondered how specific S.’s request had been.
We didn’t talk. I stood in the doorway while she went through our clothes drawers, one by one. When she took S.’s sexiest underwear–nothing fancy, just a few low-cut lacy bras and some matching panties–I had to sit down on the edge of the bed. I really felt my cheeks quivering now and my heart started racing. I felt I might faint and wished that she would leave so I could lie down.
B. was standing a few feet in front of me and, to be honest, looked hot. She was wearing a black top that hugged her sides and a pair of plain jeans. But she had a body to die for, especially now, bent over to get something from that last drawer. This was a problem of mine, mixing sex with other emotions. S. and I would be in an argument, screaming–or maybe one of us would be crying because something terrible had happened–and I’d suddenly want to fuck. I remember once, before we moved in together, she was over and we were fighting about something or other. And she ran out of the apartment then and was going to get in the car–my car, actually, which she had a key to–and I caught her just before she got in the driver’s-side door.
The driveway was really an alley between our building and the next, but it was the middle of the day–September, I think–and it was wide enough that we were quite exposed. But when I caught her and wrapped my arms around her, I couldn’t help getting hard. Kissing the side of her neck slowly turned into sucking on the bottom of her ear. And that turned into real making-out suddenly, our tongues in each other’s mouths, her hands against my chest, I’m touching her cheeks and ears and hair. And we are not the kind of couple that does public displays of affection at all–even when I take a long business trip the real goodbye is at home or in the car and it’s a quick hug and a peck on the lips when it comes to the actual goodbye on the airport curb–but we are both hungry for it now. I push her against the side of the house and thrust my hardness between her legs. We keep breaking the kiss and gasping–panting really–before getting into it again. She moves to wrap her legs around me; I grab her ass and I’m actually pushing her up the wall with each thrust against her crotch. She’s moaning inside my mouth and starts to play with my nipples through my shirt. It has been years since we dry-humped and I feel like I’m going to cum in my pants.
S. is wearing a skirt and a t-shirt. I’m actually right up against her panties and I think I can feel that they’re wet–I can feel, anyway, the heat coming from between her legs. She pulls her mouth an inch away. Her breath hot on my face. Panting. I have her so tight against the wall that she’s actually looking down at me slightly. “Fuck me,” she breathes, “like this.” I think I moan out loud before kissing her hard again. This is not us, outside the house, in public. But we’re oblivious. I snake my left hand up her shirt and find her breast–she never wears a bra–and squeeze it. My other hand is squeezing her asscheek, my fingertips reaching around into her crack, along the hot and damp edge of her panties, which have ridden up between her cunt lips. We break the kiss again and again I moan out loud. My little finger is just barely working its way into her cunt, my middle finger pushing her panties up against her asshole. “Fuck me,” she says, and looks me straight in the eye. “Right here.”
I slide my hand down off her breast and along her tight belly. I grab the bottom corner of her shirt and pull it up to her shoulder. Holy fuck, her bare tit is completely exposed right here in the driveway. Her nipple is like a rock, and I pinch mecidiyeköy escort it between two of my fingers. She moans into my mouth and I think she might be cumming. I’m on edge. But then she grabs my hand with hers and pushes it off of her. Pulls down her shirt and pushes me away. She looks around us surreptitiously. And then we’re both blushing with half-smiles. There’s no one on the street, but what if! What if the neighbors were looking out their windows? “Come on,” she says, “Inside.”
All this is not to say that I was thinking of fucking B. right there in front of the dresser. Certainly not consciously. But I was overcome with this emotion (heartbreak?) and felt like I needed human touch. Her touch, maybe–my chest tingled where it would press against her, even for the briefest friendly hug. But then she left the bedroom without looking back at me and went down the hall to the bathroom. I followed her and stood in the doorway. It was a small bathroom so she was literally just inches from me. I could smell her. She was going through the medicine cabinet, taking things seemingly at random and putting them in S.’s bag. When I felt her turning toward me I stepped back out of the doorway and she went to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard–the one where we kept the glasses–and pulled a chair from the kitchen table and sat in it. I could not imagine what S. wanted from the kitchen but, instead of taking anything, B. filled a glass at the tap and took a sip from it. She put it down on the counter and turned to face me, leaning back against the counter with her hands on its edge. Her breasts were sticking out; her tight shirt had snaps up the front but was open enough to give a hint of cleavage. I had never been much of a breast man–S.’s were average size or below and I thought they were perfect–but B.’s were huge. I tried not to look.
“Hey,” she said then, as if we were seeing each other for the first time. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” I looked around the room a bit helplessly. “Well, no, not good. But okay. I guess.” We made some small talk, which was actually quite painful–I knew B. well but we were both trying to avoid the obvious topic. Finally she finished her water and put the empty glass in the sink. I thought she was going to leave but she took a few slow steps straight toward me.
“P., I’m really sorry that S. decided to move out.”
“It’s–it’s not your fault.” I half-smiled. She was standing almost over me now. She looked straight down and smiled back, almost shyly.
“You know, it’s really not your fault either.” My heart was pounding. “You’ve always been a great boyfriend to her.” And then she bent over slightly and kissed me dead on the lips. It was not a slow and seductive kiss, nor was it hot and passionate. It was just a kiss. Her lips were against mine– slightly below mine, actually–for a warm moment, and then she straightened up again. I didn’t know what was happening and I thought she might leave then. But she stood there.
“B.–,” I said. She bent over and kissed me again. I think she may have been as nervous as me.
This kiss lasted longer and she had to put put her hands on my shoulders for balance. She caught my bottom lip in her mouth and then opened hers slightly. We began to tilt our heads slowly into a true kiss. But then she stood straight up again. Looking down at me. Again, almost shy. I saw S., then, standing in the driveway that day, her clothes disheveled, her face flushed, embarrassed. And then B. was back, over me. Her firm tits inches from my face.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Her voice was just slightly shaky but I could hear it gaining confidence.
“B., I–” I don’t know what I was going to say next. That I didn’t look at her? That we shouldn’t do anything? I was conflicted. I wanted it then, of course, I could feel myself getting stiff the second she first leaned toward me. But I wanted S., too. I wanted to get back together with S. and didn’t want to compromise that. And, even if S. was gone B., and I shouldn’t do anything–they were living together now for Christ’s sake.
“You know you can have me.”
“You can have anything you want.”
With one hand she reached up and undid the top snap of her shirt. I could see now the curves of each breast disappearing out of view. She leaned down just enough for me to see straight down her shirt. I was transfixed. And then her lips met mine again, but more lightly than ever. She straightened up only partway and I stared down her shirt. I realized that I was gripping the arms of the chair, my palms sweating. I was scared to open my mouth, scared my voice might crack. She moved her head down a little to catch my attention, drawing my eyes with hers. “Tell me,” she said.
“B.” I swallowed. “I–I want you.”
And she laughed. Not condescendingly but as if something amazed her. She dropped one hand down maslak escort to my lap and let it rest on the front of my pants lightly. I was throbbing.
“No,” she said. Her voice was quiet now, but commanding. Pure sex. I had never heard her talk like this. I’d never heard anyone talk like this. “Tell me what to do.”
I had no idea what to say. A million scenarios played out in my head. Would she let me fuck her? S. and I had always been into dirty talk, but this was different. How do you ask for something like that? What words should I use?
“Let me see you,” I said. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head slowly without breaking her eyes from mine. I repeated myself: “Let me see your breasts.”
“No,” she said. It was barely a whisper. “No, tell me–” Here she paused and slowly turned her hand over, so it was now palm down against the length of my cock. “–what you _really_ want.”
I wanted her in so many ways. I wanted her to bend over the counter and let me fuck her from behind. I wanted her tits around my cock. I wanted to take her to the bedroom and fuck her right on the bed. On S.’s bed. I wanted to fuck her while S. watched. Instead, I said, “Take me in your mouth.”
She smiled at me and then dropped between my knees. She pulled down my zipper and reached inside my pants. Her hand on my cock was the single hottest thing I’d felt in my life. She pulled out its length and then let go and kneeled upright. Slowly now, she unsnapped her shirt. Her bra clasped in the front and she opened it for me. Her breasts were indescribable. She took one in each hand and lifted them slightly together–the heft of them, the weight.
“Is that all you want?” she asked. “You really have–” she released her breasts and grabbed me again. Pulled her long hair back over her shoulder with the other hand. Moved her mouth toward the head of my cock, open slightly, her soft tongue. Holy fuck. Where did this girl come from? “– no imagination.”
And then she was sucking on me. Her head bobbed up and down in a way that S.’s never had. Her tits were so big that I could feel them pressed between my thighs, pressed against my balls. I reached down and took one in my hand, playing with her nipple. She jacked me off in her mouth with one hand, and held her hair with the other. God, the way she sucked on me–I could feel her tongue moving against the bottom of my cockhead. I wanted to fill her throat. I ran my hands all over her body, everything that I could reach–her head and her neck and her breasts and along her arms and her shoulders and down her spine inside her shirt. One of my hands met hers where she was holding her hair bunched up over her head and I took it from her and held it gently. With her hand free, she slipped it up my shirt. Found a nipple and began rolling it in her fingers.
I squeezed my legs around her and used them to pull her toward me, continuing to press her breasts against my balls, rubbing against them as much as I could. I was breathing in shallow ragged bursts. I was gasping out all kinds of things: “Oh god, B., you’re so fucking good,” and “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” and “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”
With that last one, she lifted her head from my lap and looked up at me. Then pressed her tongue warmly against the bottom of my cock. “Oh really?” Her lips were moving against my cock. She was still jerking me off. “Is that what you’ve wanted?”
She withdrew her hand from my shirt and slid it down her belly. I couldn’t see, but could tell she was unfastening her pants. “We’re being so bad,” she said. And then her mouth was on me again. I could see her arm twitching as she fingered herself. I began to thrust my hips off the chair, fucking her mouth. I thought I could smell her pussy in the air. I let her hair go and it fell around her face like a curtain. I grabbed one of her breasts in each of my hands and she moaned right on my cock. I began to lean over, trying to trace my arm down hers and into her pants. I could feel the muscles in her forearm moving under her skin. Feel her touching herself. She pulled her hand away and then lifted it to me. Her pussy smelled so good. She found my lips and forced her fingers in. They were soaked.
I sucked on them for a moment; she moved them in my mouth as if we were kissing and they were her tongue. I licked them clean, moaning at the taste of her. She withdrew them from my mouth and ran her hand down the center of my chest. Found the buttons of my shirt and undid just one, enough to stick her hand in again and play with my nipple, her fingers now hot and wet. “Oh fuck,” I said and she moaned in response. Then she dragged her lips over my cockhead again and looked up at me.
“Want to know a secret?” she said. I felt like I could cum from the feeling of her lips moving against me alone.
I could barely catch my breath. “Yes.” She began to climb to her feet, letting her hands trail up my body. I could see that her pants merter escort were undone, her panties peeking out. Soaked. Her tits were right in my face now and I began to lean to one, trying to catch the nipple in my mouth.
She grabbed the back of my head and stopped me. Made me look up at her.
“It’s really bad,” she said.
“Tell me.” I again leaned toward her breast, but she pushed me back. She stood straight up and hooked her thumbs inside her jeans. Skinned her pants and panties down at once, slowly revealing her cunt. It was shaved clean and her panties were stuck to it. They peeled slowly off and she kept going until they were down by her knees. Then took a half step closer to the chair so she was right up against it and I bent over as much as I could and started lapping at it, grabbing her ass with both hands and pulling her tight against me, trying to bend lower to slip my tongue inside of her. She had her arms down between mine and was unbuttoning the rest of my shirt. She pushed it open and began to play with both of my nipples. She let out a low moan as I tongued her clit.
“Do you know how I knew you liked your nipples touched?” she asked. She pushed me back in the chair again, and reached down with one of her hands and dragged her nails along my shaft. She bent down and put her lips right against mine. “S. told me.” I moaned and she covered my mouth with hers, slipping her tongue inside. One of my hands found her pussy and I pushed a finger up into her. So fucking hot.
She stood up again and began turning toward the table. She put her hands down on it and began to bend slightly down. Slowly. Then she looked straight at me and said, “I wonder what else you like.” I went to stand up, ready to fuck. But she stopped me.
“S. said–” She paused and licked her lips. She laid her upper body down flat on the table, her breasts flattened against it. She was bent down perpendicular to me now, her shirt still on but spread open over the table. Her jeans and panties were around her knees and her ass was near my face. She reached back with both hands and grabbed each cheek. Spread them slowly. “–S. said that you love to lick her asshole.”
I moved from the chair now and kneeled behind her. The open peach of her pussy was between her closed legs and the smell was driving me wild. I licked it from bottom to top, pushing my face between her asscheeks and trying to get my tongue as deep as possible. She writhed on the table, pushing back against me. She was moaning loud now. I reached up and rubbed her clit with my fingers, replacing my tongue with my thumb inside of her. I found her puckered asshole and teased around it, finally pressing my tongue inside.
“Oh god,” she said, “I’ve been fantasizing about this ever since S. told me.” I was touching myself now, stroking my cock in time with my tongue’s penetration. “God, I can’t–” Here she almost screamed, thrusting her ass against my face. “–I can’t tell you how many times–” God, her pussy was quivering. “–I’ve touched myself thinking about you doing this to me.” I pushed my tongue as deep as it could go and pressed my fingers so hard against her clit. I was going to cum on the back of her pants. “How many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you–” She let go of her ass with one of her hands from her ass and thrust it under her, taking over stimulation of her clit. I pulled my thumb from her cunt and pushed it toward her asshole, licking her juices from it. “–touched myself while thinking about you doing this to S.”
I let go of my cock suddenly because I would have cum right there. I roughly pulled her pants down the rest of the way, clumsily trying to take off her shoes while not ever stopping my licking. When I had them off, I stood up with my cock pointing straight out toward her, harder than I’d ever been. She rolled over onto her back, opening her legs to me. Grabbed my cock and started pulling me toward her slit. I leaned over her on the table and took a nipple in my mouth. I pushed myself toward her and the table creaked under her weight.
“Condom,” she said breathlessly. I lifted myself up on my elbows and nodded. But then she tugged on my cock. “I think about you fucking S. all the time,” she said and again pulled me closer. I could feel the heat of her pussy on my cockhead. I pushed toward her opening, needing it, but she shook her head. “Condom,” she said again. I stood up all the way and quickly removed my pants and underwear. We were both now naked from the waist down. I bent down and kissed her pussy, slipping my tongue inside it again. She moaned, but pushed me away. “Go.”
I went to the bathroom and opened the closet there. S. and I only used condoms when she missed a pill; I wasn’t sure there’d be any. I was still looking when I heard B. behind me. I turned to her, not sure what to say. I needed to fuck her so badly. Her shirt was all the way open, framing her incredible tits and flat stomach. The condom apparently forgotten, she pulled me by my cock the few steps over to the toilet, which she sat down on. She released me and then spread her legs slightly. Grabbed one of her breasts in one hand and her pussy with the other. She was fucking herself with her fingers, staring at my cock.
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