Out for Lunch

It was an average day with average weather, sky blue at some angles, the pale grey of clouds at others. It was warm enough that the sunlight required wearing no jacket but the shade almost insisted on gloves and coat. The only difference from most days was that this was a weekend and he felt like going out to lunch. She'd been called out by friends, to spend a day in company instead of alone behind her walls. Some lunch after some shopping, or so it had been promised. But the day had gone by as they'd both would have expected, and so the two were at lunch, the mere length of a food court between them.

He'd sat there eating, alone in his thoughts, pondering what to do with the rest of the day. Nothing outside the realm of usual, but then there rarely was. And she sat there reliving the same conversations, the same stories about different faces. She still smiled. She still laughed, but her friends rarely provided anything new in their misadventures and she, well, she never really went adventuring. But her smile was there, shining in the light, just enough in sight that his gaze could not avoid her for long. His eyes zeroed in, unable to resist the light she brought to that otherwise banal day. He tried to look away, he really did, but he couldn't. And eventually her eyes locked with his, where they also remained.

How much time can be spent in one shared look? For these two, it was both a few seconds and a short eternity. Moments in which the world slowed, the periphery blurred, and an unfettered gaze burned through time and cloth and essence. They saw a possibility and, somehow, miraculously, they lived it in enviable detail.

His eyes traced her features. The gentle curve of her pale neck. The way her eyes had dilated ever-so-faintly as he'd watched. The nigh-imperceptible flush upon her cheek, absent so very few microseconds ago. The way her hair glowed in the back-light.

Yet the distance between them had faded at a mere thought. He was soon beside her, the scent of her perfume tracing the air. Something about the way she held her face, the coy angles of her smile, he knew she knew he was there. The fingers of his left reached out and stroked the softness of her cheek. She had betrayed her awareness then, in this microcosm, her face turning and pressing into his outstretched hand, leaning into the delicate contact.

At that, he placed his right hand to the side of her arm and lifted softly upwards. She rose angelically but swiftly, her back still to him. His face closed to the side of her neck, his nostrils filling with her aroma as his mouth reached her ear. His breath fell upon her cool skin, hot and full of desire. She pressed backwards, then, forcing his lips to her ear. He could not resist tasting her as she did, his lips parting about the soft lobe of her ear, his tongue, warm and wet, stroking the delicate flesh. She moaned, that backwards pressure firm at first but then melting. His left hand dropped from cheek to waist and he pulled her close, the softness of her ass making firm contact with his groin.

They stayed like this for a few seconds that felt far longer than it truly was, her soft gasps bubbling up as his tongue caressed her. He paused then, moving his mouth down and to the side, soft kisses against the nape of her neck. Her flesh tightened, goosebumps of pleasure at attention, soft shivers traversing her spine. Her right hand reaches back and pulls his face firmer against her skin while her left guides his underneath her shirt, to where her bra covers the soft mounds atop her chest. His hand, though not unpracticed, does not dart straight for the delicate bud atop the crown of areola. Instead it feels and presses, the soft flesh yielding to his grip. First her left and then her right, a teasing through fabric that sees her press firmer still that shapely bottom against his growing arousal. A few such delicate strokes prove enough, however, as his hand then skirts around her shirt, the clasp of her bra falling aside.

Unrestrained, her breasts shift slightly downwards. Both of his hands now move, each cupping and caressing, fingers now finding the hardening nipples. He tweaks and he teases, her gasps slowly transitioning into faint moans as he toys with her fragile buds. Her arousal is clearly building, the grinding of her ass into his now-solid erection proving quite fervent. His right hand slips farther downwards, the snap of her jeans already undone before his fingers even reach her waist, slipping past the last real barrier to her sex. Expecting to find panties obstructing his path, however, his hands find only the narrowness of a thong. His fingers tug playfully, the string pressing into the budding moisture between her legs and against the delicate skin beneath her cheeks.

She moans and then turns, her face finally coming into view. Glossy lips, eyes aglow. She hesitates not before pressing her lips into his. Her tongue returns the favor, stroking and sucking on his. Their kisses are heated but not frenzied. For they have all the time in the world, it seems. But their patience is not quite so infinite.

His hands no longer beneath her clothing are now at her waist. He lifts, she squirms playfully, and he places her on the table before them. She tilts her head back and he his down, another kiss. Shorter. Because his hands are already pulling her top up and over her head. The light around them sets her pale white flesh aglow, the delicate pink of areola and nipple coming into view. He begins to kneel slightly, his mouth moving from hers back to her neck and down, his tongue tracing across her softness until it begins to crest her supple mound. Her nipple almost pops into his mouth without trying, the delicate nub standing so at attention. His teeth close gently around her, as his tongue takes short strokes on the tip thus pinched. She cries out in surprise and pleasure, her left hand pulling him closer to her breast. He teases and suckles there for a moment, his left creeping upwards and stroking the same anatomy on the left. He disengages and trades places, his mouth finding the other succulent treat as his right hand sets to busying.

She pushes him back slightly, enough that her nipple exits his mouth with a soft "pop", and she shivers. Her fingers are fast and nimble, dancing from button to button as she undoes them. His shirt falls open, no undershirt on this oh-so-average day. She pulls the sleeves off, his chest exposed. It is her turn now, soft kisses up and down his chest while her hands drop lower still to where her prize waits. A slip of a zipper, an unsnap of a button, and a firm tug downwards is all it takes. His boxers and slacks fall to the ground, his member springing from its confinement.

She grins and keeps her kissing moving downwards until her nose and his tip are but inches apart. She flinches first in this game of chicken, her lips making a brief contact with his glans before her tongue creeps out and flits across his slit, a half-drop of pearly precum on the very tip of her tongue. She makes a soft giggle and her lips part. Her tongue slicks them as his tip slips inside. She sweeps it across his crown and beneath his glans. He moans and shifts as she works, her tongue busy, flitting to and fro. She applies firm suction and moves back and forth slightly, half his length slipping inside at the deepest, but such continuous stimulation he finds his pleasure building too swiftly. He pushes her back. She smiles coyly, knowing his meaning.

He returns the favor of disrobing her with a firm grasp on her pale blue jeans. They bunch around her ankles and then fall to the floor, the narrow thong somehow still in place, its scarlet red in vivid contrast to her soft skin. He kneels then, her legs splaying to grant him access. His fingers trace along her lower back to her buttocks and to her outer thighs as his mouth kisses sporadically between them, zeroing in on its target. Her sex is on fire, hot and wet. The heat brimming from her is undeniable, as is the tantalizing smell of her arousal. His left hand brushes her thong aside, his tongue striking her delicate hood immediately. With a slight shift, the probing tip of his tongue skirts this defense, teasing her swollen nub directly. A few strokes is all it takes for her to clamp her thighs down on either side of his face. She moans aloud and his strokes begin in earnest. She can hear his breaths, taken in short, staggered bursts as they are, heavy, air less pleasing to his lungs than her button to his tongue. He says no words as he works but his soft vocalizations resonate inside her. It does not take long for the first wash of pleasure to crest and break. Her thighs clench harder, trembling. Her moans grow loud, her breath hard, her breasts heave before it passes. She relaxes her grip and dislodges her lover's face. He tries to resist but she playfully pushed him away once more.

The two stood like that, staring into each other's eyes, an unresolved need still brimming between them. She drops her fingers and tugs her thong to the side. She gestures he advance and he does so, his cock standing at attention and still glistening with the mixture of pre-cum and saliva from before. Ready as she is, it is not hard for him to slide inside. Half his length slips in without difficulty. But he must pause, the roiling heat and comforting tightness now drowning his eager, turgid flesh. He sighs, long, low, and hard, the first hints of heady groan inside his throat. She moans and places her fingers upon his back, pulling him closer. He shifts, a partial stroke out, before sliding in further. Her grip on his back rises in intensity the farther inside he gets until, at last, his balls meet the cleft of her ass. She purrs and looks up. Her lips again meet his and they kiss once more now that they are joined.

He begins to move. Slow and deep, his travels her passage, his crown stroking and stroked by the clenching walls around them. At his deepest, his glans presses against her deepest corners. She moans when he bottoms out and he moans back into her mouth when her walls tighten around him. Her heat melts into his flesh, her slickness brimming. His pace begins to rise, faster strokes now a random mixture between deep and shallow. She holds his face close to hers for a time, but the rising tempo soon threatens to dislodge her from her perch. One hand falls to the table while the other dips to her clit. She strokes her button as he works his way into her time after time. She cums first, another slip-sliding wash of heat over her body. She can feel her pussy clench on every inch of his flesh. He pauses, already too close to his own release, its siren call building in his loins.

A brief pause. Long enough for her orgasm to pass. But not long enough to delay the inevitable for long. He begins to move again, his strokes faster, harder, but more chaotic. She can sense that he will cum soon, too. She grips her legs around him and pulls him to her. Restricted such, his strokes are fast and deep within her but with limited amplitude. His tip strikes her cervix, tickling recesses within her deeper yet. Another orgasm is already welling within her and descending fast. He pulls from their kiss, a word mouthed on his lips that she does not care to hear. She pulls him back and thrusts back into him, her orgasms cresting and dragging him with her. Their orgasmic cries mingle in the shared space between their kisses, her muscles clenching and clamping around him, his shaft throbbing and pulsing. The first splash of his release within her is heralded by her moans falling to cooing gasps, her kisses rising to a frenzied pace. The second and the third see her freeze, the two falling into a singular embrace. And as the after-shocks of both releases finally end, their torsos separate. Their eyes lock. They smile.

And then they are back to reality. His cock aches in its pants, rigid, a soft wet patch discoloring the fabric. He wondered if her panties were in an equal state of affair. He felt tempted to go and greet her. But he shook his head. Such a sumptuous moment in time was to be just that. A beautiful girl with a radiant smile across the way, laughing with her friends. He sat and ate his lunch in peace, savoring the fleeting recollection of an imagined moment. His tray finally empty, he reached down to grab the earbud case from the bag. A familiar jean-clad leg lands in the outskirts of his vision.

"Leaving so soon after we shared such a nice moment? No way. You're going to buy me a drink and we'll see if that gets you off the hook." She grasps his hand and tugs him along with her, the subtlest hint of red thong peeking above the hem of those pale blue jeans.