It Was Only a Iss

A buzz comes from beside me and a screen lights up, Steve's name flashing up white on a blue background.

We need to talk. Any chance I can come round?

I bite my lower lip, lips you had pressed against drunkenly just last weekend. Lips I'd happily let kiss me. I'd felt a shot of passion at being in his arms, something that I hadn't felt for a long, long while. We'd been all over one another for most of the night, hands getting bolder and bolder, until I left the bar and headed back home, albeit reluctantly.

Back home to my husband. Back home to one of Steve's best friends.

Steve was an usher at our wedding, and has been my husband's friend since he was 18. We had been friendly, nothing more over that time. Sure, I got him stealing some looks when we shared a holiday with him, back when I was a little leaner, but nothing more than usual. Now I'm carrying a little more weight around the hips - perhaps that was the reason why Jake, my husband, didn't seem as interested anymore.

It was what had surprised me the most about that Saturday night where we had innocuously met, innocuously danced and then not so innocuously kissed. I'd dreaded the next morning, the guilt that came from seeing a message from Steve and the worry that he might end my marriage. But he was surprisingly cool, telling me it was a drunken mistake. I of course concurred with him and thought that was that.

That was until the following Saturday.

I picked up the phone and quickly typed out a message, with just one word.

Why?

I got an immediate response.

Because I feel bad and its best we do it in person. Please?

Jake is out at the football and will be gone all afternoon and I know you know that. But then it's not like you can come around to speak of these things when Jake is here. So I send a message telling him to come around - best to be open and honest with one another, right? Clear the air and make sure we both know it was a mistake...

So why do I feel so nervous?

The door thuds twice and I leave the large sofa and come to the door, seeing his outline through the frosted glass of the window. Even that mosaic of colours can't hide his handsomeness - tall, jet black hair and somehow perpetual five-o-clock shadow. And those blue eyes... even my drunken haze remembered how they looked me up and down a week ago.

"Hey" I say with a small smile as I open the door, leaning against it more casually than I feel, and he responds with the same easy smile.

"Can I come in?"

My answer is to walk away and back into the living room. The front door shutting and the sound of shoes being taken off tell me he's followed me in.

When Steve enters I'm already sat back down and turning the TV off. He takes a seat, eyeing the wedding photo above the now black screen as he takes a seat beside me.

"Jen... last week..." he starts, fingers tented and leaning forward awkwardly. "I don't know what came over me. I've never done anything like that. And to Jake, too."

I shake my head at him and look down myself. "Look, we were both drunk and I'm just as much to blame. Fuck Steve, I married him. Made vows. It's not like you were up there marrying him."

He snorts at that and then looks across at me with those wide, pretty eyes and a smile that makes me melt a little. I can't remember the last time Jake looked at me like that. Just like I can't remember him kissing me like Steve did.

"And it was only a kiss, right?"

"Only a kiss." I agree.

There's a silence that follows, the atmosphere of the room growing thick with unsaid words. I bite my lower lip again and then start slightly when I feel his hand wrap around mine.

I should tell him to stop. Tell him that if last week was wrong then this definitely was. Instead my thumb runs along his fingers and we share a wordless look for a moment before he leans forward and kisses me softly.

So, so softly.

It's then that I realise that we both knew this was going to happen when I invited him around. That this was something we both wanted and needed.

"We shouldn't" I rasp while my body moves slightly on the sofa to be facing him, betraying my desire as much as the thumping heart in my chest. He moves to press his chest against mine, his strong hands on my hips as we fall back onto the sofa with him between my legs.

The soft kissing makes way to the intensity we shared the week before, his hands boldly pushing up my skirt to reveal lacy pink knickers underneath. His thick fingers move between hot skin and elastic and he starts to pull them down, making my back arch and force a gasp from my lips.

I reach out as he pulls away from me to pull the panties down my bare legs, my hands unsteadily unbuckling the belt as he tosses the panties aside. He helps me with the belt and then the button as my breathing becomes more and more ragged. My hips keep rising in anticipation before I even see his thick and bulbous cock spring free.

He doesn't wait, and I don't want him to. A pause and the whole spell will be broken. Everything that was happening filled me with a desire that Jake couldn't match, couldn't give me. He was a good lover but this... this was already the most potent experience I'd ever had, and we hadn't really done anything.

Yet.

And then he was inside of me.

His long, deep thrust is held as I cry out beneath him, hands on his shoulder as I moan out his name. My fingers, one with two gold bands around it, goes into his thick hair as he slides partially out and then back in with a groan of his own.

My leg wraps around his possessively as he finds a powerful rhythm. It's awkward, I notice him trying to get some leverage on the floor to drill into me harder, but it doesn't matter. I become lost in him so easily, his hot breath forced against my neck as he becomes more frantic, a hand pushing my vest top up and cup down to grope at my full breast greedily.

I cum first, though I don't think he was trying to make me cum. I shriek as I do, my pussy tightening around his shaft and my fingers gripping to his shoulder blades through his shirt as he continues to pound into me. I don't even think he notices, and I find myself not caring - there's something even more attractive about him when he's so lost in my body that what is happening to me is none of his concern.

He leans up and grips my hips then, pulling me onto him while he desperately takes me. Each thrust makes me cry out, each one makes my chest bounce. All I can do is hold onto the cushions beneath us tightly.

With a grunt he fills me. He doesn't ask, just takes. I feel warmth inside of me as his cum pulses within me and I gasp out, my hand on his chest as our eyes lock. His cock still pumps into me as I lick my lips and try and find that guilty spark within me.

I can't.

Steve smiles at me, and I smile back.