Remaining Faithful

We cuddled up on the couch, me the little spoon to her big spoon, all the lights off and a shitty thriller playing on TV. She threw a blanket over us. A gust of her perfume washed over me, pluming through my body, making my stomach go tingly and firm. She settled her right hand on my waist, fingertips touching the crease of my groin, but just barely.

I nestled my head back into the natural pillow she provided. Innocent enough. I remembered the time she let me squeeze one, my second cousin, over the spandex of her Adidas sports bra, and the blue veins that marbled her powder-white flesh. I was growing hard under the blanket. I was growing warm.

On a commercial break, I went to the kitchen and drank a cool glass of water, hoping that would help. While I was in there, I made up my mind.

I came back and resumed the role of little spoon, only facing her this time, feeling her breath and following the chain of her silver cross lost somewhere in a milky gorge. I wanted to dive in and retrieve it.

"I'm just tired," I said, "I want to rest my eyes. I'll scoot down, alright? So you can see the TV."

She said nothing. I could smell her cherry lip gloss, her perfume, her less nameable auras. She threw the blanket over my head and said, "it's fine, I'll wake you when the movie's over."

I was alone, shrouded in darkness with her aromatic body, cocooned and so achingly in heat I thought my very blood was on fire. The tip of my nose tickled her cleavage. Purposely, she took a deep breath, swelling her bosom so full that for a second my whole nose was in her tits and they were brushing my cheeks. It was unhealthy, even pathetic, my obsession with her chest. But she did nothing to discourage it.

So I committed and buried my face where I wanted it most. She didn't react except to stroke the back of my head. I was so erect it was straining my briefs. I was kissing all over the tops of her breasts. In heaven. Literal heaven. She applied light pressure, pushing my face in a little deeper. I couldn't breathe but I loved it.

My hand went up the back of her tank top and unhooked her bra. The cups loosened. I pulled up her shirt, the bra along with it, and made my dream a reality, filling my mouth with a rich creamy dollop.

There I stayed for who knows how long. Periodically she'd moan, or even coo, making hushed, happy whimpers that made me happy, too, that made my pecker jump against her thigh. Down her hand went, and she was stroking me through the silky fabric of my basketball shorts.

She pulled the blanket down a little to whisper in my ear. Encouraged me to suck the other nipple. It was "getting jealous." She was all smiles, getting more and more worked up, talking dirty and groping my dick till I came dangerously close to popping off. When I put my hand in her shorts, she pulled away.

"No," she said, "that'd be cheating, I don't want to cheat on my boyfriend."

"Me mauling you like this isn't cheating?"

"No. And neither is this."

She rolled me on my back and disappeared under the blanket. I felt my shorts go down, her tongue dragging up the length of my rod. She took me in deep, sucking so fast it made the couch squeak, the shape of her head bobbing up and down beneath the blanket. I was making sounds I'd never heard before.

At a certain point, while she was down there, I reached down and took a handful of tit, squeezing it hard, tweaking her nipple. She spat my cock out so it slapped against my belly.

It was over, I figured. She'd come to her senses. All good things, etc.

But no. She knew what I wanted. It was more than obvious. I wanted my throbbing hot penis between her bulging breasts. What else?

She bundled them tight with one hand, me slipping in between and - without a second thought - bucking my hips. There was no stopping me after that. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever felt so incredible.

The couch was really squeaking now, drowning out the quiet TV, the two of us panting with excitement, the pressure building up inside me like you wouldn't believe.

I took her hand away and held her titties myself so I could play around with pressure, squeezing them pussy-tight one moment, then looser like two velvet cushions, watching my head poke in and out, hearing the clap of my pelvis against underboob. When I really got going, it was like a round of applause.

She was leaned over me. I lifted my head to where we could kiss without me having to stop or slow down in the slightest.

My abs were in constant flexion and she seemed to enjoy that, kissing and touching them, licking away the dew when I grew sweaty, the precum that drizzled out my bellend, my muscles straining, my obliques cinching with every upward pump.

She said I was burning up, hot to the touch like I had a fever. I said, "I do baby I do," my penis leaping up and down in her warm fluffy dough, my helmet so sensitive she only had to tuck her head and kiss it once for me to come. God how I came. Some on her breasts but mainly on myself. And for one shattering instant, I wasn't sure if I even existed. I was dust.

What brought me back was her giggle. She ran her fingers through the sticky puddle on my heaving belly. We could smell the cum cooking on my skin.

The best part about that night is she was able to remain faithful.