Third Helpings

© Bedtime Storyteller – all rights reserved.

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She had no idea she'd get to see him again so soon, but thanks to a strange twist of fate, there they were, sitting side by side in a dark theater. She had tried to watch the movie, Fahrenheit 9/11, but her efforts to concentrate became completely useless when he pulled her hand into his lap and began to stroke her arm. How could she think about George Bush and Halliburton when he was slowly trailing his fingers up the sensitive inside of her forearm? Her breathing was becoming shallow and breathing was actually taking a concerted effort. He had to know what his touch was doing to her, didn't he? It was a shame the theater was packed; it was so hard not to lean over and just plant one on him, let him know exactly what he was doing to her.

They sat together in the car for 4 hours, had eaten lunch together and laughed and talked and enjoyed each other's company, and yet all that time he had not touched her. The opening scenes of the movie were of a newsreel. The roar of jets, of people cowering and crying and looking for loved ones as the towers collapsed, had her crushing a napkin in one fist as she recalled the terror and immense sadness she had felt on 9/11, and it was at that moment he slid his hand up under hers, relaxing her hand into his. This simple act made her breath a sigh of relief, a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Finally he had touched her...and he had picked the moment she needed his reassurance most.

All through the movie he played with her hand and arm, stroking her and caressing her, reminding her that he was there (as though she could forget?!). A few times he leaned over to whisper something to her about the movie, and she was so tempted to kiss him then, but she resisted. No sense in rushing things, or starting something when it couldn't be finished. And what if he didn't want to kiss her again? What if he was just playing with her, leading her on? Ok, so it was a little late to be worrying about that, but she couldn't help the thought from sneaking in and leaving a trail of doubt.

But it was hard to doubt anything when she was this aroused, her panties already growing damp with desire. It had been a long time since any man had excited her so much, and never before with such an innocuous touch. His fingers, light as a whisper, traced a path along the back of her hand before he laced his fingers with hers and gently squeezed.

The movie ended, and she indicated to him that they should wait and let the theater clear out some before they attempted to leave. He looked at her, questioningly, and she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I just had to get that out of my system," she whispered, when the kiss ended. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a moment, feeling vulnerable and exposed for some reason. Then the moment passed, and they gathered their things and moved into the crowd.

Neither of them was hungry, so they walked out to her car. She knew she wanted to be alone with him, but where?

While he fiddled with the radio, she pondered where to take him. Suddenly, it came to her. The park, just down the road, would be perfect. She had recalled a high school friend talking about it as a good location for making out, with plenty of hidden spots when you wanted to be alone with together but had nowhere else to go. She had only been there once, when she was fresh out of college, to see a friend for the first time since his marriage. That time had been late at night, elevenish, if she recalled correctly, and technically the park was closed, but that worked well for the talk which ended in a blowjob with her college lover. Suffice it to say, she was feeling pretty confident that the park would suit their needs just fine.

They pulled the quilt from the trunk and headed off through the park. She was content to let him lead, and he led her into the woods, down a narrow path, which opened up into a beautiful little glen. He gestured around, "Well? What do you think?"

She smiled. "Perfect," she declared, and it was. He helped her spread out the quilt and they sat down, facing each other. Just in case, she had brought a deck of cards, and she pulled them out and shuffled them nervously.

"So..." He smiled uncertainly. His boyish charm was so endearing, and she had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him. She knew he was still somewhat hesitant to make the first move (or so he said), and she certainly didn't want to frighten him away with her exuberance. So she returned his smile and waited impatiently. He leaned toward her and kissed her, a soft, gentle, open-mouthed kiss that left her wanting more. But instead of moving away, as she had expected him to, he kissed her again and again. It didn't take but a moment for them to be completely absorbed in one another, cards dropped to the blanket in a cascade of hearts and spades, her hands caressing his face, his hands caressing her arms, their tongues meeting and retreating and meeting again. In time, they lay next to each other on the quilt, the tree canopy above them diffusing the sunlight and creating a green room for their exploration.

She propped herself up on one elbow beside him and studied him. A Roman nose and fine facial features topped with a mop of curly blonde hair gave him a Shakespearean look. His lips were sensual, his watery blue eyes were rimmed with long eyelashes, and while his earlobes had holes, he wore no earrings. But the more she studied him, the more she wanted to kiss him, so kiss him she did, leaning over him, her hair falling down around them like a curtain.

After a time, they sat up again, and he positioned himself between her legs, his back to her, and she wrapped her arms around him and nibbled on his neck. A sigh escaped him, and he leaned back into her even father, allowing her more access to his neck and earlobe. She kissed along his jaw, and he turned his head, his lips meeting hers again. As they kissed, he meshed his fingers with hers, his thumbs rubbing hers, the pressure of his hands matching the pressure of his lips on hers.

Voices and the sound of people carelessly crashing down the trail startled them, and they sprung apart, guiltily. To fill the time, she grabbed the deck of cards and showed him the only card trick she knew. She wasn't sure why they were acting like teenagers caught on the living room couch, but they were. There was something forbidden and illicit about being alone together in the woods, their arms wrapped around each other. Certainly they were a mismatched couple in all respects but height. He was thin, boyish almost, with his somewhat skater-type clothes and that tangle of blonde curls. She was rounded and curvy and soft where he was lean and hard, her red hair shining copper in the afternoon sun, her style more trendy than individualistic. She had nothing left to prove.

When the hikers had vanished and could no longer be heard, she turned to him again, kissing the curve of his shoulder as it bent into his neck. She was filled with a sense of longing, of wanting what she knew she couldn't ask for, what she didn't deserve to need. But he returned her ardor, kissed her more fervently than he had before, and then he pressed her backwards until she was flat on the ground again, kneeling above her. His kisses were no longer teasing, no longer soft and persuasive. His tongue sought out hers, drawing it into his mouth where he captured it with a strong suction, nursing her tongue like a nipple. She was drowning in him, spiraling away in the Saturday afternoon sun, propelled by his kisses.

She wasn't surprised when his hands tugged her shorts down. She lifted her hips to make their removal easier. As soon as she was bare from the waist down, he sat back on his heels and unbuttoned his shorts, tugging them down as he leaned back over her, his mouth finding hers as he fitted his hips between her thighs. The sensation of summer air on her bare skin was strangely electrifying. It wasn't as though she had never been nearly naked outside before. She went to the pool regularly. So perhaps it was more the idea that she was about to have sex outside – something she hadn't done since college – that was titillating.

He slid inside her with more force than she expected, and she stifled a cry at the suddenness of his entry.

"Are you ok?" He whispered against her lips, his eyes dark with passion.

"I'm fine, you just surprised me." To underscore her words, she pressed her hips up and took him deeper. "You feel really, really good."

He continued to kiss her, his mouth a soft counterpoint to the hardness of his thrusts. She pulled her knees up and let her legs fall open, allowing him even deeper access.

As his orgasm became imminent, his kisses stopped and he buried his face in her neck. She focused on the grey-green canopy above, the sun low on the horizon. There was no point in trying to reach her own peak – she had learned a long time ago that few men were willing to wait that long, or do what she needed to get there. But that didn't mean she didn't enjoy sex. She just didn't enjoy it as much as she knew she could, although it did enable her to really focus on her partner's sensations and reactions and responses to their coupling.

She reached around and grasped his small, tight ass, pulling him in even closer as he pounded her with short, fast thrusts, feeling the tightening in his ass cheeks as he climbed the last measured moments to his orgasm. And when he began to spurt inside her, she wrapped her legs around him, stroking his hair and meeting his final thrusts with her hips.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. Her hands roamed his shoulders and back, enjoying the feeling of his sweat-slick skin and his heart beating hard under her palms.

Rolling off of her, he propped himself up next to her on one elbow, tracing the curve of her breast with his finger. She hoped he wouldn't ruin the moment by saying anything. He didn't. He leaned over and kissed her softly instead.

She knew then that she couldn't see him again. But she would wait to tell him. Another time, another place. In the meantime, she stood up and pulled her shorts back on.

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand to pull him up. "We'd better get going." The sun was mostly gone now, and the warmth from the day was beginning to take on the chill of evening. He helped her gather up the quilt and tucked it under his arm. With his free hand, he grabbed hers and led her back the way they'd come.