Somewhere Between Bliss And Ecstacy

Bridget bounded ahead of Asher and wrenched the door to his small studio open, entering the room and plopping down on his bed unceremoniously.

"Wow, I'm so out of shape. That run kicked my ass," she laughed as Asher joined her and began pulling off his running shoes.

"It wasn't so bad, but I've seen better days," he agreed.

The two were best friends, brought together despite their differences. While she was no taller than five feet, eighteen with hazel eyes and brown hair, he was tall (6'1), with strawberry blonde hair that hung over muted blue eyes, and 1 year older. Whereas she was completely subjective and emotional when it came to her decisions, he viewed the world objectively and considered himself to be somewhat cold towards others. As it were, there were few people with whom he could spend time with for such long periods of time. Somehow they just meshed. They kept each other in check and never missed an opportunity to poke fun at the other.

Currently, she had begun tickling his ribs, so that both fell backwards in a heap of flailing appendages onto the bed. Breathing heavily, Asher pinned her on her stomach and launched a full-scale assault on her feet. Luckily, she managed to slide off the bed and landed with a thunk on the floor below. Lying on her back, Bridget lay laughing on the floor as Asher's head appeared above her from atop the bed.

From his vantage point, he couldn't help but glance quickly at her chest, which was heaving slightly each time she laughed. As a friend, he knew he shouldn't, but as a guy, he couldn't help himself. She might be small, but she wasn't small in all aspects. Her pert 36 C's earned her attention (wanted or not), and Asher had received more than a few jealous glances in his direction. He knew it looked like they were dating. He wouldn't deny she was beautiful. He glanced down the length of her legs, which were beginning to tone now that they ran almost daily. She was wearing shorts (a rare occurrence because she disliked them), and they just happened to have ridden up in the tussle so that they rested at the tops of her thighs. Her wife beater lie slightly askew as well, exposing the tiniest piece of bra beneath and a sliver of flat stomach.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Asher stood and held out a hand, which she took.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to shower off," he said, pointing to his sweat-soaked shirt for emphasis.

"No problem Ash, I'll just watch some TV," she replied, oblivious to his gaze as she reseated herself on the bed and picked up the remote.

I'm a horrible person, thought Asher as he turned and pulled his shirt over his head.

On the bed, Bridget stared after as he retreated into the bathroom. She admired the lean muscles in his back as he walked. He might look gangly, but she knew he was strong and fit. In all honesty, he was gorgeous. She knew she shouldn't think so, but in any case she couldn't help it. She loved his eyes and the way he always hugged her when it was time for her to go. He'd always been so good to her. True, he had a tendency to be callous at times, but he was always there when it really counted. It was Asher who had helped her through her recent break-up with her first long-term boyfriend. Still, it wasn't right for her to be thinking the kinds of thoughts about him that had been keeping her up every night for the last 2 weeks.

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In the shower, Asher allowed the warm water to cascade over his body. Although his body felt the heat from the shower, his mind was still in the other room, where Bridget lay casually in the very same placed he imagined her every night. He couldn't count how many nights he'd lay awake, tired of sleeping alone and wishing he could roll over and feel her warm body beside his or how many time he'd awaken from dreams where she was in danger and he had had to save her, usually coming close to death himself in the process. And this was before she'd broken up with his best friend. He hated that she'd always been off-limits because she was his best friend's girlfriend and still hated that she was off-limits for that same reason, even thought they'd been broken up for 2 months.

He pictured her sitting on his bed, tank top sticking to her skin, lightly beaded in sweat as she cooled down from their run. Her hair would be tussled from the wind off the beach, falling limply onto her tanned shoulders or hanging seductively in front of her eyes.

Oliver stifled a groan and leaned one hand against the wall in front of him to steady himself. Something in him stirred.

I can't, he thought, determined not to give in to a temptation that he was finding harder to ignore.

Focusing all his energy elsewhere, Oliver picked up the soap and began scrubbing himself furiously with the hopes of washing away all his negative thoughts. However, as thoughts tend to do, he felt himself wandering back to his time with Bridget.

He remembered a day when the two had been at the hot tub. Her boyfriend had been at work, so they had been hanging out just the two of them, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Teasing, Bridget had taken his bottle of water and proceeded to pour it all over him. In retaliation, he had attacked her, using his strength to pin her against the edge of the tub where he had demanded an apology. Giggling, she had of course refused, and he had pulled her onto his lap and proceeded to tickle her. What he hadn't counted on, however, was the reaction his body gave to her perfect ass wriggling against him. He had released her unexpectedly, excused himself to the bathroom on the grounds of a stomach ache, and masturbated furiously for the next five minutes. Later, his guilt had so consumed him that he had never allowed himself to think of her as more than a friend again. Until recently...

Now, he felt himself spring to life, and looked down to see his eight inches staring back at him. He groaned audibly in agony.

This can't be happening...

He knew however that he couldn't leave his bathroom like this for fear of being noticed, and so he took himself in hand and began to pump forcefully up and down. Like a floodgate, images of Bridget began to wash through his mind: her showering off after a visit to the pool, her dressed in her pajamas with wet hair, her flashing him a look that he couldn't decipher. And suddenly it wasn't his hand working himself, but hers. His eyes were clamped shut as he pictured this scene vividly in his mind. He hadn't meant to do it, but suddenly an audible gasp escaped his lips as he reached his final release.

"Bridget..."

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Outside on the bed, Bridget flicked aimlessly through channels of meaningless daytime television. She finally settled on one of those shows on MTV that you hate to love, but her mind wasn't in it. Hesitantly, she felt her thoughts wander through the door to her right, and wished her body could follow. She stared unblinking at the door, and it was then that she heard the noise. A gasp? A moan? Light on her feet, she slipped off the bed and in no time had her ear pressed to the door. At first, only the sound of rushing water was audible, but as her ears adjusted, she picked up a lower, more guttural sound.

No way..., she though, He wouldn't. Not with me in the other room...

But she was quite sure of what she was hearing. She stood against the door, transfixed, trying to catch even the faintest sound. She felt so horrible for doing what she was doing, but this did nothing to stop her.

No further sounds emitted from the bathroom, and it was as she was turning to return to the bed that she heard...

"Bridget..."

WHAT!?

Stunned, Bridget hastily sat on the ground. He was masturbating...and saying her name. There was no way it was possible. No possible way. And yet there was no mistaking what she had heard.

Strangely, she wasn't upset. In fact, she felt a series of flutters pulsing through her body and ending in her navel. This was beyond comprehension.

Sitting on the ground, hardly breathing, she had a sudden compulsion to enter the bathroom and see just how much he cared. But this, of course, was not something that could be taken lightly. This could be a thing that ruined friendships.

Bridget bit her lip. She was fighting her better judgment. Standing, she slowly approached the door once again. Her hand paused just before the doorknob. Once this happened, there was no going back. Breathing heavily, she turned the knob and entered the steam-laden room.

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Asher stood, knees quaking, recovering from what was one of his most intense orgasms to date. The pleasure was immediately replaced by guilt...enormous guilt. It was wrong in so many ways to feel the way he did. She was his best friend...his best friend's ex. She trusted him, and she had no idea he was only fully living when she was around. Up until this point, he really hadn't realized how much he truly wanted to be with her.

Closing his eyes, he was too wrapped up in thoughts to hear the door softly close. Furthermore, it wasn't until he opened his eyes that he saw something amazing, or equally horrible.

Bridget stood before him, a mixture of fear and uncertainty tainting her flawless face. He blinked, blinked again, but still the image did not dissipate.

Reaching slowly behind her back, almost as if to avoid startling him, Bridget unclasped her bra, pulling it out of her shirt through the side. It was a veritable wet t-shirt contest now. Her white wife-beater, increasingly more and more see-through in the torrents of water, left very little to the imagination. It was strange, but seeing her there in his shower, fully clothed, was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

Finally, Asher broke the silence.

"What are you doing...?" he said, voice shaking as if in competition with his knees.

"I-...I heard you," she replied, not daring to meet his gaze but instead staring off over his left shoulder.

"You did?" He panicked. "Holy shit. I'm so sorry." Words, excuses, began streaming from his mouth until she abruptly met his gaze.

"It's ok. Do you think if I was mad I'd be standing here like this?"

No, Asher reasoned to himself, I suppose not.

"Ash...I just want to know if you feel the same way about me as I do about you. I want to know if you only feel half-alive when we're not together..."

It was true, he did. He knew it. But he also knew this couldn't happen. There was a code among men to prevent things like this. Sensing his hesitance, Bridget took a step back. He reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Bee, I do. Trust me, I do. But we can't. I mean, you're my best friend's ex-girlfriend. It'd kill him if I made a move on you."

"So, you're choosing to kill me instead." With these words, a single tear fell from her eye, although it was indistinguishable from the other drops of water on her face. But Asher knew.

Bridget turned to leave, and Asher felt panic swelling in his chest. If he didn't seize this moment, it would never come again. He knew what it entailed and what consequences it would bring, but he couldn't let the opportunity, couldn't let her, slip away.

Spinning her around quickly, he kissed her before she could speak again. Her mouth opened to his immediately, their tongues co-mingling somewhere between bliss and ecstasy. She wrapped her hands around his neck while he entwined one in her hair and another around her lower back. They were so close now, all skin that could be touching pressed together. Asher reveled in the slick wetness the water created.

Pushing her against the back wall of his shower, he began a crusade of kisses along her ears and neck, while she ran her hands across his chest and back. Her skin was hypnotic in scent, taste, and texture. She moaned as he made his way along her collarbone.

It was when her hands began to travel south that he became painfully aware that he was naked, and that his hard-on was pressing persistently against her stomach. He stopped kissing her to glance down, and Bridget giggled.

"I'm sorry," he said, blushing instinctively.

In response, Bridget sank to her knees and began to pump him slowly. His groaned, knees buckling as he struggled to remain standing.

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Bridget could not believe this was happening. She was kneeling, feeling Asher's length grow harder in her hands. She wanted to make it good for him. She knew he wasn't a virgin, but she also knew that he had skipped everything and gone straight to sex that first time he did it. Bridget was not a virgin. In fact, she liked to consider herself sexually skilled, or at least as far as blowjobs went.

Bending lower, Bridget let the water rush down her face and drip down onto the sensitive head of Asher's dick. It was bigger than her ex's, thicker even, and she reveled in what she was about to do.

The moment her lips touched him, Asher moaned. She started out slow, sucking gently on just the head while he got used to the feeling. She knew he wouldn't last long, and she wanted to make it feel as good as possible.

Gradually, she took more and more in until he bottomed out at the back of her throat. She held him there for awhile, massaging the shaft with her tongue, before she pulled him back out to just the head. She repeated this process, prolonging his utter bliss until she felt his toes curling.

Taking his balls in her hand, she began increasing the speed of her sucking. His hands snaked into her hair, and she let him guide her mouth and set the pace. He started to thrust, faster and faster, into her mouth, until finally it pushed him over the edge. She felt him cumming into her mouth, and she eagerly swallowed it down.

When he was done, she gently licked him clean before rising to meet him at eye-level. Asher's cheeks were flushed and his breathing was ragged.

"Wow," was all he said.

Bridget smiled nervously, unsure of what to do. Sensing her discomfort, Asher placed a hand against her face, and she leaned into his touch.

"Bridget, I'm so sorry it took this long. But trust me, it was as hard for me as it was for you."

Then they were kissing again, passionately. Bridget gasped when Asher's hands moved down her sides and pushed up the sides of her tank top. He seemed hesitant, so Bridget pushed herself against him in a sign of encouragement. From under her shirt, Asher cupped each breast in a hand, rolling each nipple between his fingers while he continued to kiss her.

Finally, Bridget couldn't stand it any more.

"Bed," was the only thing she managed to gasp out.

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As instructed, Asher turned off the shower and helped Bridget out. As soon as her two feet were planted on the ground, their lips were locked. Asher pushed her against the wall nearest the door, pinning her body against his as he gripped her tight ass through her wet shorts. She, meanwhile, was pressing against him so hard that it took a good amount of strength to keep her in position.

Gripping her shirt, he pulled roughly to the point that there was a great tearing sound. Just as quickly, it lay tattered on the floor. Her bare breasts were now pressing against his chest. She was driving him crazy.

Groping, Asher pulled her out the door and onto the bed. Climbing on top of her, he yanked her shorts and underwear down in one pull to reveal an immaculately shaved pussy. He wanted to prolong the moment as long as possible however, and for the moment he returned to her erect breasts. He forcefully sucked each nipple into his mouth, and the combination of his hot tongue on her cold skin caused Bridget to squirm beneath him. She was trailing kisses along his neck and jaw line when he returned to claim her mouth with his.

For awhile, the two passionately kissed on his bed, content to simply stay in the moment. Both hands traveled the length of the other's body, familiarizing themselves with each curve. Asher was beside himself with want. His hands finally roamed to the uncharted territory between her legs. Her gasps drove him onward, and before long he had 2 fingers buried deep inside her. The sensation was amazing. He almost lost himself again right then and there, but he was waiting for what he knew was coming.

Bridget was close to finishing. Her fingers were digging almost painfully into his back, but the slight pain mixed with the intense pleasure was all the more arousing. Suddenly, she was suspended, her back arched and her mouth biting down on his shoulder to stifle her cries. It didn't matter, no one could hear them, but he got off on it just the same. His fingers came out sopping wet, and when he put them in his own mouth, the taste was hypnotic.

He looked down at Bridget's shuddering form, smiling up at him as beads of sweat collected on her neck. He was aching again, needing to be inside her. Bridget kissed him one more time and whispered gently in his ear.

"I want to feel you inside me."

Swallowing hard, Asher positioned himself at her entrance. He could practically feel the heat radiating from her wet pussy. Breathing deeply, he pushed in, slowly at first and then all the way to the hilt. Both gasped in unison, glad to be together in this way they hadn't before.

"Please," Bridget cried, "Fuck me hard."

Asher bit his lip and tried to concentrate on not cumming right there.

He began pumping in and out, marveling at her tightness. She could have said she was a virgin and it would have fooled him. The two began moving in unison, him grinding into her and her arching to meet each thrust. Asher was lost in the pure raw sensation of it all, focusing all his energy on making it last.

Asher felt a primal instinct stirring in him. He'd never experienced anything like it before. Every sensation: the smell of sweat, the taste of skin, the friction; it was all too much. He was pounding as hard as he could, but he didn't know how long he could last.

Suddenly Bridget flipped him over so she was straddling him, his dick still embedded in her. He put his hands on her hips and began pounding her up and down. Her perfect tits were jiggling as he fucked her to the best of his ability. She slid easily along his shaft, and his balls hit her ass every time she took him all in. She was nearing release, as was he. She was crying out, eyes screwed shut, and for some reason her name kept repeating in his mind.

"Oh my god Bridget," was all he managed to get out.

Then without warning, she was pulsing all around him, causing him to explode deep inside her just as she bottomed out on his dick. She gasped, and Asher was no longer able to form coherent thoughts or phrases.

She continued her up-and-down movement once he lost all control of his arms, and Asher could never remember having cum so hard in his entire life.

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Afterwards, they lay together for a long time, her lying on his chest while he remained inside her. Eventually, he slipped out, and she rolled onto her side so they were spooning. Even though the sex had been rough, there was something so sensual about it. He felt connected in a way he'd never thought he could be to another person. And Bridget definitely seemed happy, which was all that mattered to him.

By this time, it was dark outside. Asher lay holding Bridget as she fell asleep, kissing her neck gently and stroking her body as it wound down.

Sometime in the night, the two awoke in an embrace, and proceeded to make love again, falling asleep close to morning. Asher couldn't remember ever feeling more complete, and he was glad that on his night, he didn't have to roll over in hopes of embracing a figment of his imagination. She was real, and she was here. When he awoke the next morning, it was to a kiss from her smiling face. By morning he was head-over-heels in love.