Aren

Copyright © Daniel Choquet 2018

*

"You what?"

"I know. I'm so sorry. I know you were going to be my first. But sometimes ... sometimes it's just so ... like I can't stop myself. Like, you remember..."

It took a moment, but then Steve did remember. Yes, that evening. They had been kissing. They were young. Didn't really know how. But something had happened. Suddenly. All he knew was that suddenly, her hand, the hand he loved, the hand she used in such endearing ways when making a point, her hand had suddenly found its way around his cock.

Steve wasn't like Karen. Steve asked for permission, and had asked on that occasion. Was her hand still there? Maybe. All he knew was fair is fair. And he wanted so desperately to do with her, well, the closest thing to what she had done to him. Maybe he thought on some level that it wasn't really a fair request. After all, permission to place his hand against her most profoundly female place was so much more. Her answer, without hesitation, had been yes. YES. Nothing in the universe equals

yes

from the lips of a woman. So of course he remembered. It would remain the most erotic moment of his life.

He should have been consumed with jealousy. He should have screamed that this was the end for them. But as she sat there looking at him, a little sad, but mostly calm, his mind went down an unexpected path. He couldn't help but imagine how it must have happened. Had Dwayne asked first? Yes, of course, he was someone who would ask. And of course, she must have been consumed by desire as she had been back on that evening years ago. The evening of the grab. As Steve felt the stiffening take hold, he knew. Of course she had said yes. Yes, that

yes

had been a violation. But somehow the pain of the violation was rapidly being challenged by the realization of what had happened. In the end, it was unthinkable that her

yes

could be anything but beautiful. Even if it was said to someone else this time. And years later, Steve would understand something quite a bit more difficult, more painful in a way, yet inevitable. That the fact that this

yes

was a violation had poured even more fuel onto the fire, So much, in the end, that it could not be resisted.

"Steve,"

What was it in her eyes? Compassion, yes. But there was inquisitiveness.

"What?"

He was still trying to read her expression.

"He's coming over."

Well, that was it. It was time to leave. If he had any vestige of pride left, he would just get up and leave. But he just sat, and then he felt it again, his imagination rushing ahead to what Dwayne was coming over to do, beginning to imagine how they might do it. Again the stiffening. That's not how he ought to feel about his girlfriend, his intended, who had already given herself to someone else, expecting another visit from that same someone else. And Karen could see this plainly. She didn't have to look at the physical manifestation, although she did. She did look. But she could just as well have seen it in his eyes. And then Steve could see the change coming over her.

Power was not a familiar feeling for Karen. But it was unmistakable. After all, she was nothing if not smart. Part of why Steve had been so strongly attracted to her in the first place. And that feeling of power was intoxicating. She knew what was going on with her boyfriend, perhaps a bit more clearly than he did himself.

"You know, don't you, why Dwayne is coming over."

Steve just stared, didn't open his mouth. She came to him, so very close. She had figured it all out.

"He's coming over to fuck me."

Instantly her mouth was on his and the kiss was not loving. And now they were both learning the difference between love and lust. That both can happen with the same person. But one can happen alone. And that was what the impending visit was all about.

Again he thought, this time out loud, "Maybe I should leave now."

There was fire in her eyes.

"Or maybe not."

Very briefly, it occurred to Karen that she had not checked with Dwayne as to that last point. But by now, she was already too far gone for niceties. Again, she felt her power.

It's not up to him.

, she told herself.

----

Karen answered the door and the two men looked in each other's eyes, not knowing what to say. Steve's face remained neutral, though unmistakable, Dwayne's a little frightened. So she had told him. But no sooner had Dwayne opened his mouth to speak, than Karen took him urgently by the hand. Into her bedroom.

And closed the door.

Up to this point, Steve had done a fair job of balancing the competing emotions of arousal and jealousy. Amazingly, in fact, the former had seemed to be winning. But he hadn't been prepared for the closed door. A feeling not unlike nausea swept over him. He was to be figuratively and literally shut out. He needed to escape, but could not, as something seemed to hold him fast. Again, curiosity. Would he hear a sigh when Dwayne's hand found it's way to her still-covered breast? Would there be a gasp, maybe two, just when the head of his fully-aroused cock made its first contact with her equally-aroused sex? As it began its delicious journey?

Suddenly the trance was broken by the sound of the door opening. And almost immediately, there they were, standing not five feet from him, Karen in front. They were fully clothed.

The fear that Steve had seen on Dwayne's face was gone now. Now they were both looking squarely at him, both smiling gently. Dwayne placed his hands slowly, gently, on Karen's shoulders. Breaking her eye contact with Steve, she turned her head back. Another kiss of pure lust, and now, without breaking the kiss, she unbuttoned her blouse. Which was all it took, since her breasts were small, and a bra seemed superfluous. Just her left breast was now fully exposed and Dwayne's hand wrapped around it in an instant. Karen broke the kiss so she could lock her eyes onto Steve's just as Dwayne's mouth found the hard nipple. She reached down to the hem of her skirt and lifted it to reveal that there was nothing covering her exquisite womanhood. So wonderfully nasty, with most of her clothes still in place. Her pussy. Dwayne's fingers were now brushing ever so lightly along the center of the pussy that would soon be welcoming his now fully-erect cock to press between the engorged lips and then deep inside.

But not yet. Karen broke away and stepped up as close as she could get to where Steve was still seated. Placing her right hand behind his head, she pulled him toward her, arching her back, until her sex was pressed firmly against his mouth. But now it was Steve's turn to tease, licking the inside of her thigh and only accidentally grazing the lips of her crazed cunt. But Karen was to have none of that, and holding his head firmly between both hands, restored the contact that she demanded, finally rewarded as his tongue began slowly circling her nub.

Just then, Steve became aware of motion. Rhythmic motion. Dwayne had come up from behind, bent his knees and had entered her. Karen looked down to Steve, demanding eye contact. She had to say it. "He's fucking me, Steve. Look, Steve. Look at how it's going in and out. God his big cock feels so fucking good inside me!" As Dwayne continued doing just that, she moved with him, but Steve grabbed hold of her ass cheeks, and on each stroke, was still able to flick his tongue across her clit. Finally, she cried out as her explosion began. It was all too much for Dwayne, who could no longer hold back his own release, as he felt the walls of her cunt contracting around him.

And then it was back to the bedroom, all three this time, Dwayne sitting back against the headboard, his legs apart, Karen sitting between them with her back resting on Dwayne's chest, his hands grasping her thighs at the knee, holding them up and apart for her boyfriend. Karen looked into Steve's eyes one more time. This time, it was with both lust and love. Finally, it was time. Time to reclaim.

NOTES

This very short story was my first effort at erotic fiction, early in 2018. Surprisingly, this brought praise from an established author whose works I admire, prompting me to continue writing. I often re-imagine events in the past, but with my current attitudes. Fiction is most often the only way to get a second chance.