Playdate 8

We scurry through the hall, my fingers loosely entwined with yours, giggling like the girls we used to be. We've never been to this house before. It's Hannah's; she's new to the play group, one of those that likes her house "just so". None of the kids are allowed in her house. She probably won't last long.

I stop suddenly and you run into me, setting off a new spasm of giggles as I pull you into a room.

"This isn't the bathroom!" you hiss, irritated, excited.

I quickly but quietly close the door and push my entire body up against yours, kissing you with a dangerous desperation that surprises even me.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, you and me. Not this much.

I move to your neck, delicately grazing the skin over your tendon with my teeth. You're taking deep, slow breaths, but again you hiss, "I would fucking KILL someone if they did this in my kids' playroom!"

I pop a sudden laugh. "We HAVE done this in your playroom!"

You scowl but kiss me back, taking my hand leading my fingers under the waistband of your skirt, into your panties, into your heat.

Christ, you are soaked. I've never known someone who would get this excited over me. This wasn't supposed to happen for you either. We've started taking chances we shouldn't take. It's almost a craziness.

We've done this so much now that I can work your body almost better than you can. We've learned to be quick. The longer we stay here, the higher our chances of being caught.

You shudder and bury your head in my shoulder as my fingers deftly slip over both sides of your clit in slow, long strokes. My other hand caresses your cheek as we kiss again, delicious and longing. My nipples send bursts of flames through my body as our breaths quicken. "Please," you whisper, "Please now, I can't take it anymore."

I glance around for a good space. Toys everywhere. So much for that "just so" appearance. I start pushing trucks and legos out of the way and throw a teddy bear down for your head. You skitter to the floor and put your hands over your eyes, more giggling. "I can't believe we're doing this! Ahhh!"

"Shhhh," I remind, lifting up your skirt. You keep trying not to laugh as I pull off your panties and stuff them in my pocket. And then I am on my belly, my face between your thighs, kissing. A sharp intake of air ceases your giggles as I gently roll my tongue just between the swollen lips of your pussy, letting hot breath escape from my mouth. I always marvel at how smooth and bare you are. How you find the time I don't know. I wonder if you do it for me.

My tongue snakes circles around your clit and you moan into your hands. The noise sends a shot through me right to my own cunt, drenched, wishing we had more time. I push my thighs together and rock myself forward, two spit covered fingers gliding into you. You are already so close to peak that your walls crush my fingers as they curl up to swirl your soft spot. I cock my head to the side and flick my tongue over the length of your clit. I begin to rock my body in a rhythm, using my momentum to propel my fingers, just so gently moving in and out, still holding the upward swirl.

You move your body with me, raising your hips. You stop breathing almost completely as your entire body tightens at once, then lets go in a trembling shudder. My arm starts to cramp as your orgasm grasps at my hand, almost churning my bones. A soft gush of fluid squishes through. I swear you taste like candy.

We lie there for a few seconds, still, letting your body soften out from it's tension. We are silent.

"We should probably go" I say, not really wanting to. You nod your head and I pull my aching fingers out of you.

We help each other stand up, wobbling. Still the silence. I start to feel awkward. You pull me to you and dot the sweetest, soft little kisses all over my face and hug me so tight that for a minute my heart aches, thinking this is going to be it, this one you intended to be our last. You're going to tell me we have to stop before someone finds out.

But you pull away, grin and sigh, and lead us both back out to the kitchen. You grab a tray of sandwiches as I wash my hands. I fumble with the juice boxes, watching you walk out the back, greeted by squealing children and three other moms.

My chest tightens. Did we take too long? Will they wonder why your cheeks are so flushed? Will they notice your scent on me?

I stab my fingernails into my hand, begging myself not to laugh as you slyly whisper to me, "It's running down my leg" immediately before announcing, "LUNCH, KIDS!"

And that's when I realize your panties are still in my pocket.