Not for the faint hearted!!!

[angelpi74]

Well I have finally done it!! I have acomplished my very first adult fiction story. I have no idea why I am posting it here - cause no body reads it ever!! But what the heck.... if someone happens to come across it just remember it is god awful sweet - so have the dentist on speed dial and it is not really for the littlies... But enjoy!!



The movie was good...great even. What was it about again? Who knows, and frankly, who cares when one is exploring the deep recesses of your best friend’s mouth? How they ended up in the situation they found themselves in is a story in itself, one that may be explored by one of the two occupants, now in the lift.

It was by some silent democratic vote they were heading to his apartment; it could be said it was for geographical reasons. Either way, the sooner they got to a bedroom, or any other room, offering some semblance of privacy, the better. The lift was the room of choice at hand, or should it be hands? One of hers had taken residence on his arse; the other tangled in his hair ensuring his mouth would not leave hers anytime soon. He mimicked one of her hand positions on her rear, holding her up against him, pinning her to the mirrored wall, the other was massaging her breast. He thought he was being gentle, but by the way her tongue was thrusting into his mouth all thoughts of savouring such a tender moment were lost.

All she could remember from the lift was a muffled ‘ting’ signalling their arrival at the sixth floor. A trip which seemed way too short by normal standards; it usually took twice the amount of time any other day. He hooked her legs around his waist and stumbled towards his flat, knocking over a vase that sat on the hallstand in the small foyer.

Oh god, she thought, Mr. Pisani would have a coronary if he saw us.

She would have thought more about it, had she not been thrust up against his door. The feel of him between her thighs and his movements looking for the keys, made what little brain cells dedicated to such thoughts quickly change their allegiance to ensure all cognitive functions were on the one topic at hand. Or should that be hands?

After three years he could not be sure how to open his door. He fumbled with the lock; how was he meant to get the blasted key into the damn hole while she was sucking on his neck like that? It was not as if he hadn’t been dreaming about such a situation.

Of course he had.

Hormone induced teenage dreams would do that to any man; especially after being as close as they were for the past twelve years. She was everything he looked for in a woman and was the main reason for the string of failed relationships.

The knock on the door bought her away from her book. It was late; she was not expecting anyone, certainly not dressed to entertain, unless the visitor was interested in blue puppy print flannies and hot pink bed socks. The tiny peephole distorted the persons face; even so the person was still quite good looking for a triangular shaped blob.

Opening the door she could tell her friend had had a bad night, he was meant to be on a date with some typically long legged ‘Barbie’ doll. Who knows where he found her or how she found him. But he was here now, not with the wannabe Barbie, something happened.

‘The stupid cow will pay’, she thought.

It was always her, would always be her. And frankly he could not see a future at all without her there. She was the one he could trust, one he could depend on, one he could talk to, and he knew he was just as important in her life as well.

Sure their mutual friends speculated on their relationship; saying they should give dating a go, saying they’d be the sweetest couple on the planet, or at the very least start shagging themselves stupid, hopefully to put an end to all of the supposed unresolved sexual tension between them. They had both given up trying to assure people that their relationship was strictly platonic.

All that now seemed unimportant.

There was no going back, how could there be, he didn’t think that teasing the nipple of your best female friend’s breast actually constituted platonic affection; especially when said best female friend was grinding herself intimately into his aching groin.

Letting go of her legs he spun them around closing the door with his foot. The noise it made, similar to her old Holden ‘Torana’ back firing stopped what she was doing. Comprehension on what they had done settled between them. Brown eyes meeting green, and a whole conversation seemed to have passed in mere seconds before any sound was made.

"Great movie," she said.

"The best"

"Should we talk about this?"

She wanted to know where she stood. Her love for him started... it felt like forever ago; she would not be able to handle it if their friendship was on the line and she lost her best friend.

"No, it will still be there in the morning."

"Good," she said.

She was satisfied now; he could see her insecurities and either way after tonight their friendship would still be intact. He assured her, not with his words but with his eyes this evolution of their friendship was a good thing, nothing to be ashamed or scared of, but was a foundation towards something better, and brick by brick they would build it.

Neither one moved. The boundaries their friendship provided were gone. They were free to love each other - no longer loving from afar, always wondering and wanting the other. Yet with all of this information, neither moved, both remaining still; viewing each other with their hearts, souls, fears, secrets all exposed for all and sundry to witness.

But someone had to take the chance. It seemed a game of Russian roulette had taken a mental telepathy approach, and a duel was underway; for if one of them moved their actions would not be polite. It would be gnawing, ripping, claws-bared types of action, each willing to mince the other into submission.

Here between them lay uncharted territory; him being the man-about-town type of guy, and her; quiet, homely, studious, definitely naïve about the wonders of intimacy. Yet with him she became bold, she was the one who actually initiated the entire sequence of events, how she did it still remains a mystery. But those insecurities were coming back to haunt her, as they neared their crescendo.

Sensing her hesitation, he stepped forward. Nothing had to be said; it was all there between them, the way he cupped her face in his hands, the way ever so slowly he kissed her, holding nothing but promises and tenderness. Tongues made lazy sweeps over every space of their mouths, pushing, probing and prodding each other to new levels of pleasure.

Pulling her flush with his body, soft curves moulded to hard lines sending the temperature rising. As their body temperatures rose so did the level of their kissing. Tongues began frantically swirling around each other, over their teeth, around the crevices of their mouths, finding, digging, exploring - searching for what they both craved.

Hands now find a new task. Hers have started the journey undoing the buttons that hold the one thing that separates his skin from hers. His own have already found the smooth expanse of skin located on her lower back, marvelling at the smoothness and wondering if this patch of skin will taste as good as the column of ivory located at her throat.

Frustration got the better of them both. The main dilemma facing them was the need to remain kissing while divesting each other of their clothing. Breaking the kiss, chests heaving to get the much-needed oxygen back into their lungs, he looked at her eyes; the caramel colour was so warm, so inviting, and it was home.

“Are you sure about this,” he said.

“Very much”

The urgent need to be together slowed; neither was going to leave the other, they had been together as friends for years and even through their rough patches they always stayed strong for each other. Hurried touches, frantic kisses, each struggling to remove clothing from the other, gave way to gentle caresses, sweet kisses, and a want so deep it would be impossible to reach.

He prayed to whatever god he could, to ensure that this encounter with his woman would not be the last.

Please don’t let this be it, he thought.

She pulled back from his kisses, losing herself in his eyes that everyone always said were just like his mother’s; taking his hand she led him to his bedroom, for what she had planned required the comfort of a mattress.

As with all men, his bedroom contained only the essential ingredients; bed, dresser, bedside tables, a lamp and yesterday’s clothes tossed in a heap on the floor. The only required item on this list was the bed; all the rest was window dressing. No light was needed; the moonlight from the window provided them with all the light they required.

Hands make maps of their journey, exploring the geographical masterpieces on offer in each area. His lips play with the soft skin they found. Removing each piece of clothing from her body seemed like unwrapping a new present. Something new, wonderful and exciting, waiting and wanting to be explored, tasted and touched, mapping each new area with precision, committing to memory her responses.

All too soon they were bare. Bare to touch, to caress, to hold. There were no barriers left, either mentally or physically. All that was left now was to enjoy each other completely.

He backed her slowly towards the bed.

Never before had he ever felt the need, the desire, the confidence, nor the determination to be as close to someone as he did right now.

In the past, associating with the opposite sex was always fraught with danger, they would either gather in packs making it near impossible for the average awkward teenage boy to make an impression; he had always made sure that the girls would remember him, just not in a good way.

She was never awkward when they were teenagers. She was confident, sure and always beautiful; to him she was. Others teased and tormented her endlessly, whether it was about her family, or her constant need for learning; she always held herself with dignity.

He watched her dance with him. Some jock from the footy team named Ted, Fred, or
Dickhead.

‘Yeah, that’s his name ‘”Dickhead”,’ he thought, ‘The joker has absolutely no fucking idea of how lucky he is.’

He could say the same about himself. Standing like the proverbial wallflower near the equally proverbial punch bowl at their graduation dance; if only he had picked up the balls between his legs and asked her to the dance then he would have been the one dancing with her.

Watching her, he knows she is putting on ‘the act’. The one where she is all outgoing, but inside she’s not; he knows the difference, he sees it in her body language. The ‘Dickhead’ is too oblivious to see it.

A couple more jocks pass him to the bar for another beer.

“Hey, did you hear who Dean is going to pop tonight?” one said.

“Nah? Details man!” said the other.

“That Cara bird, you know the one always with her nose in a book”

“Your kiddin’ man he aims high”

“Sure does, there’s money on it”

“From what I hear she’s a no go zone”

“He’s set to make a cool hundred, Lucky bastard!”

‘Dean sure is a lucky bastard, will be when he meets my fist,’ he thought.

And he did, not ten minutes later.

Reaching the edge of the bed, he did something on impulse; bending down while still maintaining contact with her lips, he scooped her up and gently placed her in the middle of the mattress. Her head hit the pillow breaking the kiss. In the past she thought she knew what love or even affection for another person was, but never before had she seen it so plainly before. She had been at school with this boy, no, man; and she had spent most of her schooling making sure that he was safe, that he was always happy, she was even willing to watch him with other girls - encourage it even, and she was willing to protect him at all costs, at all costs.

Touching his cheek as his face hovered over her; she had seen the many expressions adorning his face over the years, but by far this would have to be her favourite; to know she alone was responsible for the way he was feeling made her shudder as she lay beneath him.

He reacted to her movement by running a calloused hand from her hip up to her breast. The movement seemed knowledgeable but inexperienced all at once; his touches were both tentative and sure. She was turned on; her body shook everywhere his hands travelled, sparking warmth and desire all pooling and travelling deep within her stomach.

All the time his hands journeyed his eyes never left hers, and in much the same way her hands were igniting his skin, burning and searing into his soul. He was almost at the point of self-combusting.

It will be in the paper tomorrow; the headline would say “Man dies in bizarre bed fire”, he thought, as her hands made their way down his back to cop a feel of his arse.

Lying on his side he took his time exploring every feature available to touch, which didn’t leave that much out when you thought about it. She did the same. Running her hands down his chest she noted that there were a few more scars than she had originally thought. Not too many to indicate that he experienced brutality; just enough to indicate that he’d made sacrifices and seen things that most of us had not.

She also found the thing that defined him as a man; she had felt it before, in the lift when she was pushed up against the mirrored wall, now she was seeing it in the flesh, so to speak. Not too big and definitely not small.

How I could’ve missed it after all the years that we’ve been friends, she thought.

Wrapping her hand around the base, she started stroking him. Hearing a moan she looked at his face, his eyes were closed and by the looks of things he was ready to pass out in sheer bliss. Empowered by his reaction she took it a step further by rubbing her thumb over the drop of liquid now seeping from the tip, effectively lubricating her hand in the process. His moan rumbled deep within his chest, fighting to break free.

Feeling bold she wriggled her body down the mattress until she was eye level with his manhood. She took him deep into cushions of her mouth, pushing him gently onto a hip, forcing him to roll onto his back.

His eyes shot open!

The sudden feeling the soft confines of her mouth engulfing him, nearly bought the evening a screeching halt before any real action was able to take place. He had to make her stop. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to continue; but it’s just he wanted, no needed to be with her completely, before they explored fully.

Pulling her up beside him he kissed her firmly.

‘Not yet, later, we’ll do that later’, he panted.

She could only smile knowingly.

Switching places was easy; a quick push, a gentle prod and she was where he wanted her to be, held captive with his weight; Oh! How he’d dreamed of this in the past, imagined a future with her, here, just like this. He had spent many wonderful hormonal and alcohol induced wet dreams exploring this exact situation, but at least the product of this encounter would not end up as a messy spot on the sheets with him alone in a cold bed; this time they were together and who knew how the sheets would end up?

Parting her thighs, she cradled his angled hips, his manhood brushing her most sensitive part, sending thrills to every corner.

Looking into his eyes the balanced shifted, dramatically, his gaze once gentle, warm and loving shifted to raw passion. His lips claimed hers, hard; she willingly allowed her mouth to be plundered; wanting all the time for him to plunder her body in much the same way. She was growing impatient. A slight shift to the left was all that was needed. She hinted to him the course of action he ached to take and silently he took the hint.

Shifting his body in the direction she wanted, he penetrated her warmth. She was so hot, so tight and able to produce sensations he had never believed existed before.

We’re made for each other, she thought.

He filled her, touching each and every crevice deep within her. She was becoming light headed; he was able to make her feel complete, whole, and to know that she could be a woman whom he desired rather than just an insufferable know-it-all friend.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved his weight upon her, rubbing and grinding in just the right places. Her breathing grew quick and rapid, short, shallow breaths filling his lungs as they continued to kiss.

Reluctantly he broke away; he wanted to see her eyes, see her desire, to see her love. Lust was beginning to take over; he needed to feel her. He was more turned on than he ever could be and almost too much and he was spinning out of control. A great man once told him that the eyes spoke volumes about a person; he was so very right. Desire, love and a future were all there mapped out for all to see; it was like having a clairvoyant looking into a crystal ball after asking what the future held.

“Sam, did you have a good day? And did you remember to bring home some milk?” she called from the kitchen.

“Sure did to both”, he replied closing the front door, all these questions and the car engine hasn’t had a chance to cool down.

Before it was completely closed tiny arms clung to his legs. Two arms became four and pretty soon if he was lucky an entire octopus would have wrapped themselves around him ceasing all movement.

“Hi Daddy!” two voices chorused.

“Hi Jessica and Brad’s Dad”, said the other two not products of his genetic pool.

Looking down he saw eager chocolate coated freckled faces, “Hi Kids, obviously been helping cook today.”

“Yup”, said Brad, and they all ran off.

‘Nothing like having an in depth conversation with a bunch of five year olds,’ he thought shaking his head.

“Hey”, she said walking into the foyer.

“Wow!”

“What?” clearly confused on his reaction.

“This,” he said indicating her attire.

Looking down she thought she looked hideous, covered in flour from the kids having an impromptu food fight, hair falling out of her ponytail, heavily pregnant, bloated…need she go on.

But this did not stop him from grabbing her around the waist pinning her to the front door with his body and shoving his tongue down her throat.

All in all he was having a good day.

Thrusting ever so slowly into her receptive flesh created the friction his body so desperately sought. Her walls were clenching around him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts stroke for stroke. The feel of being so intimately joined with another; seeing someone exposed and at their most vulnerable, was humbling for him to experience, but knowing that they, that she held such power over him made the scales balance out. He was hers and she was his.

As suddenly as the whole evening had begun the passion between them spiked. His mouth sought her pulse point and her body arched in response. Feeling his mouth on her skin was more than she could handle, she cried out and clenched around his manhood as her release wracked her body with tremors. Goose bumps sprang up all over her body as his mouth continued to assault her neck.

Running a hand down her body, skimming over the hard peaks of her breasts following the curve of her body, he felt her skin begin to sweat from her anticipated orgasm under his fingertips. The balance had shifted again momentarily as he smiled against her skin.

Feeling the need to empower him she grabbed his face between her hands and brought it in line with hers. She could tell that he was about to speak, but instantly seized the opportunity of his open mouth and plunged her tongue deep inside. His continual thrusts wavered slightly at this action forcing his weight to rest more heavily on hers as his arms gave way.

Her breasts were now pressed hard against his chest as he rolled them over, as doing so allowed him to go deeper. She rose above him, he was her slave and there was no place more beautiful and more peaceful on this earth than here, right now. Oh boy! He was definitely in pleasure overload, especially when she leant back just a fraction, placing her hands on the tops of his thighs and rocking on his pubic bone ever so slightly.

Desire coursed through him boiling up from where they were joined, spreading and coursing to every cell within his body. Maintaining the basic function of breathing and making sure his heart beat at the appropriate moments became decidedly and deliciously more difficult for his brain to do; his other brain had a clear agenda in mind and so far was sticking to it; but for all of the crap things he had to live through, this, here, right now, with her was worth every second.

As she moved, her most sensitive part rubbed against the coarse hair dusting his pubic bone, she soared to new heights. It was as if she was discovering a whole new side to herself - someone capable of letting go of all inhibitions while witnessing their lover doing the same. Throwing her head back she screamed, it could have been his name or any other corporeal being in the vicinity.

‘Oh God, Sam’, she cried.

He lay underneath her; a Cheshire cat grin appeared on his face; he continued pumping slowly into her body to maintain the rhythm they set before. Twice he had broken her, now he was heading for the mother of all hat tricks.

Deftly he rolled their entwined bodies over, receiving little resistance from the woman he loved. He settled himself between her thighs, propping himself up with is left arm and running his right hand from her knee to her hip, alternating movements from the outside of her leg drawing ever so close to her inner thigh making her squirm.

Getting frustrated at his deliberate ineptness, she grabbed his hand placing it at the juncture of where they were joined, directing his fingers to the most sensitive part of her womanhood. He quickly took the hint and touched her. She clenched around him increasing the friction, her body was on a euphoric high; she had transcended her own mortality as her body arched against his. He plunged deeper, faster and harder into her body. Tingling formed in his outer extremities and began pooling towards his groin. He was racing, to what he did not know. Completion? Maybe. Love? Yes. Home? Definitely. Yes, he was racing home to her in every way a man could with a woman.

Just as suddenly, she cried out, howling her unintelligible sounds to the moon as she quivered and pulsed around him. That was his cue; with only a few more deep thrusts he came with a cry of his own, her name sliding easily from his lips as he continued to gently thrust into her quivering body milking his length deep within her.

Slumping against her body he lifted his head to meet her eyes. Her eyes remained closed as she tried to catch her breath; never before had she been made love to and loved as deeply as Sam had just done.

The entire experience was something she’d only ever wished to happen, a fantasy to fuel every woman’s bedtime dreams. She wanted, needed, this time to commit every minute, every extraordinary detail they had just experienced to memory; a memory that would be revisited quite regularly both day and night for decades to come. She could feel his gaze on her, intense, strong and so like him. She was afraid to see what they had done, but excited all at once; never before had she felt such conflicting emotions, she was always calculated, organised, methodical; that was gone and it scared her.

But what she saw when she opened her eyes startled her; for this look he gave her made her still afraid, scared even; it made her unsure if she was capable or even deserving of what he was giving her. She became insecure and fidgeted beneath him, still joined intimately and her moving around caused him to groan in response and harden again. He smiled gently, loving the feeling she evoked on him.

‘I love you. Y’know’, he told her.

‘Do you?’ she asks.

‘Of course, you don’t think that I would do this with just any woman?’ he punctuated his statement with a quick thrust of his hips and her heart soared. Not only was this man, this wonderful man who had been a part of her life for so long giving himself to her bodily, but heart and soul also.

Tears started to gather; never before had she felt so much love, from anyone.

‘I love you too, so much it hurts to think about’, she whispered.

He visibly sighed at her declaration.

‘You have no idea how happy you make me, Cara’, he said caressing her face with the back of his hand.

‘If it is as happy as you make me, then it’s a whole lot’, she replied.

He bent his head down to kiss her sweetly on the lips. There was no more need for words; everything that they needed to express would be more adequately expressed with their bodies; the English language just was not enough to convey the feelings they felt. Ever so slowly they recommenced the most ancient of dances, moving gently to the rhythm of their own music well into the night.

* * * * *

The moonlight from the night before was replaced with the gentle rays of sun dancing with the sleepy faces of the two occupants of the large bed in the middle of the room. Limbs were entwined, ivory skin contrasted perfectly against tanned muscles, masses of brown curls haloed around a mess of black hair on the white pillow. The white sheet pooled around their waists providing some protection of modesty.

The bed was comfortable and Cara felt reluctant to move. It was the first time in a long while that she was able to sleep through the night without waking, it was also the best night’s sleep ever; she smiled knowing that it was due to the extra workout she placed on her body the night before. And if she guessed right Sam also enjoyed the extra cardio-vascular activities; especially if what she was feeling pressed hard into her thigh was any indication.

Shifting ever so slightly she shifted position to look at Sam’s face, over the years he had lost the gaunt look he had as a teenager only to be replaced with the defining handsome features adulthood bought. In all of his years everyone commented about the scar on his cheek, but Cara doesn’t see it any more, to her it has always been there - a part of his features, just like his eyes. Cara could rhapsodise the exquisiteness of his eyes till man started living on Pluto and still she would not be able to pinpoint why she is so drawn to them.

While in deep thought about him she failed to realise that he had opened his eyes, sensing her watching him.

‘Now this is the way to wake up’, he teased.

‘What way?’

‘Next to a gorgeous vixen,’ he smiled.

‘A vixen? I think not, Mr Cartwright.’

‘Oh I sincerely believe it. It just proves my theory.’

‘What theory?’ she blushed, clearly embarrassed but highly intrigued as to where he was taking this. His right hand was making its way lazily over her hip towards her breasts; if he continued on this path, pretty soon she would be showing him just how much of a vixen she could be.

‘That quiet bookworms are the best in bed. It’s all the reading they do, the extra research. And you do know, Cara, that you do quite a bit of research’, he punctuated this statement by curling his hand around her breast, fingering the hardening peak.

Cara could tell he was quite proud of his theory, and frankly she did not care as his lips descended to her throat leaving warm tingly trails spiking her arousal. A sly smile came to Cara’s face; ever since the night before he held the winning balance calling the shots, this was her prime opportunity to bring the ball back into her side of the court and if played right she would be feeling the benefits very soon.

‘Well, you do know that with this type of theory you need to complete thorough research’, she panted in his ear. Cara could feel him smile against her neck.

‘Research that needs to be tested, over and over again, then tested some more’, she was becoming breathless; the way his lips and tongue alternated along her pulse point was almost mind numbing.

Sam rose above her, looking down; right then and there he knew what was in his heart. He loved her more than anything this world possessed; he knew people would say that it was too soon, but frankly he did not care. He only cared for the woman, in front of him, beneath him, around him.

‘Well, we had better get testing, Mrs Cartwright’, he smiled.

Cara froze. Her once comfortable world was now gone; it was going to be hard for her anyway to handle the new dynamic to their relationship, but now she was spinning out of control. Less than twenty-four hours ago, they were friends, best friends; now he was giving her the world, all neatly presented on a silver platter.

Sam was not worried by her lack of response; he knew how her mind worked, she just needed a few moments to process everything. Tears were forming in her eyes, her heart bursting with the happiness and love the she held for him, only him, but was kept well hidden until now; even from her.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

‘Is that a threat or a promise, Mr Cartwright?’

His heart soared, not only had she accepted him in friendship, she was now committing herself to him for the rest of their days.

‘A promise, definitely a promise’, he responded, as he resumed his experiment to prove his theory correct.

It’s amazing what can happen in twelve hours.