"Will you come sit back closer to me?" Sam asked, gently patting the spot next to him.
"As long as you behave yourself" she replied innocently, easily scooting along given the soft fabric of her skirt. Sam smirked, knowing that when she said that, in that particular tone, she never meant it. He moved his hand to her thigh again, this time venturing his fingertips past her skirt line and up to her panties - or lack thereof. Instead of finding a soft fabric barrier like he expected, his fingertip slipped into her wetness and he heard her gasp.
He groaned, pure animalistic desire, as his finger slid softly through her wet lips, feeling her heat, her slickness -- excessively wet and slightly creamy. She was soft, smooth, and within seconds his hand was completely soaked in her arousal. His eyes, hungry with desire for her, landed on her face -- her eyes, half-closed in bliss. Her small lips, slightly parted, small whimpers escaping them. His eyes dropped down to her chest, her breathing heavy with desire.
Suddenly, Sam cleared his throat, a warning signal that the waitress was returning, and Poppy again sat up straighter, although the hand between her legs stubbornly remained there, just better hidden. Teasing her. Tempting her.
"Here's your chips" Anna smiled, placing the basket down on the table. "Thank you" Sam responded, and again the waitress walked away, leaving the pair alone.
Sam focused his attention back on Poppy, slipping his middle finger deep into her warmth, watching her eyes close and mouth open, watching her tense, hearing her soft, exasperated giggle at the sensation.
Poppy's head spun with pure desire, her normal, professional, well-behaved self having disappeared and been replaced with someone lustful and desperate. His long fingers felt so good massaging her most sensitive parts. She was soaked. Drenched. Her nipples ached with the desire to be touched. While giggling softly in euphoria, her hand wandered to the bulge in his slim jeans and she moaned, eager to be fucked. She stroked his hard-on from outside his jeans, squeezing the head gently between her fingers, causing him to groan, as well.
"Want to go to my place?" Sam asked, his low voice raspy with need.
"Mmm.. yes, please, before I make a bigger fool of myself here" Poppy answered, the lustful cloud clearing from her eyes and replaced with excitement -- she was eager to see his home. To have him in his bed.
Sam finally removed his hand from between her legs, leaned forward, and pulled his wallet out from his pocket. He laid some money down on the table, chugged the rest of his pint, and grinned. "Ready?"
-- - - - - -- - - - -- - -
The car pulled into the quiet, dark driveway and Poppy got out, gazing up and down the street. Cute, cozy, classy. She loved it here. She looked at Sam, who had walked around the car and came to her, taking her hand in his.
"Welcome to my house" he said, guiding them up the steps and onto the porch. They removed their shoes and Sam opened the door, leading them inside.
The living room was tidy, with toddler toys tucked neatly along a wall. Poppy glanced at the wall nearest to her and saw a wedding portrait -- Sam and his wife, Hailey. She paused, taking in the picture -- Hailey was beautiful, her light features contrasting Poppy's own dark ones. The couple looked so young, happy, in love. She frowned, guilt tearing at her heart, making her sick to her stomach. The weight of her own wedding rings suddenly painfully heavy.
Sam watched Poppy's demeanor change, going from standing upright and seeming cheerful to suddenly drooping, her hands coming together, her fingers absent-mindedly spinning her engagement ring. He grabbed her hand and she turned to him, her eyes reflecting her hurt. Their relationship was just supposed to be a fantasy. Two married people, a little bit lonely, a lot a bit frustrated. By chance, they found each other online, and the immediate chemistry was startling. They had both accepted the fantasy, but neither would've expected it to turn into a reality. Yet here they were. Alone. Slightly guilt-ridden. With arousal, intense sexual tension, weighing heavily between them.
Sam knew there was nothing he could say to make it right. They were both being unfaithful. But he needed her. It started as a want, sure, but as he got to know her, his body had a constant ache with the desire to have her. To claim her. To make her his. And now, seeing her in that damn outfit, in the dimly lit room, under the roof he shared with his wife and child... the sight, the emotions, the taboo, and the smell of her lightly lingering on his fingertips. It was too much. All they'd had for so long was words. Tonight, he could finally do more.
Poppy squeaked when Sam suddenly became forceful, taking her hands and moving them above her head, shoving her up against the wall next to his wedding picture, and pinning her wrists above her. She moaned, feeling her breasts rise in this position, the desire in Sam making her ache with need. She heard him groan, then suddenly felt a cold draft as the jersey was swept off her and dropped to the floor. Her eyes became hazy with need, seeing Sam's eyes hungrily appreciating her exposed cleavage. Her black bra, lacy and lifting, caused her breasts to swell into beautiful mounds on her chest. She smiled, the guilt disappearing and the desperate, primal need to be fucked taking over. She moved her hands to the front of her bra and unclasped it, then dropped her arms so her bra fell to the living room floor. She kept her eyes on Sam's the whole time -- watching his reaction, savoring it. The grin, the need, the change in breathing. He pushed her body gently back up against the wall, lowered his head, and began suckling on her breasts. His tongue flicked over one nipple, and then the other, his hand kneading whichever breast his mouth wasn't clasped to. He started to suckle harder, with Poppy gasping in pleasure, her hands running up and down his back, small moans escaping her.
"Mmm... I need to fuck you." Sam grumbled, standing back up, scooping Poppy into his arms -- which she obliged to by jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling his cock through the jeans pressing against her bare groin. She leaned in, her arms around his neck, and kissed him, feeling him carry her up the stairs and into a room. Suddenly, she felt herself going through the air before landing on a bed and gently bouncing to the sound of a soft squeak. She glanced around the room. The walls were a beautiful, almost wine color. The comforter she had just been tossed onto was gray, matching the several shades of it in the room that were softly highlighted by the lamp on the nightstand. She scooted back, leaning against the gray wood headboard. She smiled, looking at Sam as he removed his shirt.
Sam's cock ached with how much it needed to be buried inside her. How long he had wanted to fuck her. The naughty, dirty thoughts and fantasies they shared. And this one -- fucking her in the bed he shared with his wife -- about to become a reality. He undid his belt and jeans, pulling them, along with his briefs, down. His cock stood painfully erect, precum glistening from it. His cock twitched when he saw Poppy eyeing his erection, her tongue licking her bottom lip when she noticed the fluid.
"Be a good girl and take off your skirt" Sam ordered; Poppy moistened at the command, the aggression in his voice. She quickly obeyed, removing her skirt, leaving her in nothing but her knee socks.
"Touch yourself for me," he commanded next and watched as she smiled naughtily at him and wiggled her body down some. All he could do was stand back and stroke his cock while he watched her get comfortable.
Poppy took the pillows and propped them against the headboard, then rested back on them. She took her breasts in her hands and, feeling bashful and lustful, she spread her feet apart so that Sam had a nice view of her- the knee socks, leading into her tan thighs, leading into her soft, bare, moist pussy. She was so wet that her thighs glistened; Sam felt precum ooze from his head as he continued to watch her. One hand moved from her breast to her clit. She slowly closed her eyes as she began twirling two fingers against her bud, her hips swaying ever so softly, "yes daddy" she whispered obediently, causing his cock to twitch.
Sam couldn't take it anymore. He crawled from the foot of the bed to between her legs, nestling his head between her thighs. He took his large hands and pressed them down against her thighs, using his thumbs to spread her pussy lips apart so he had the perfect view of her clit. He glanced up at her, watching her half-closed eyes on him, her hands squeezing her breasts. He groaned, inhaling the scent of her, then took his tongue and ran circles around her clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. Fuck, she tasted heavenly, completely feminine with a touch of sweetness. His tongue dove into her, savoring the juices that came out of her. He listened to her whimper, her moan, her soft giggle when he sucked on her clit in just the right way. His fingers dove into her, first one, then two, rubbing deep inside her, finding her sweet spot while his mouth clamped onto her sensitive bud.
Poppy's hips bucked against the bed, her hands squeezing her breasts as she gasped for air, the sensation becoming too much. She knew they had chemistry, but the things he was already doing to her body -- how he knew exactly what to do, how to do it, when to do it -- she shivered, her teeth chattered, and she felt the explosive wave of euphoria sweep through her mind and body. She screamed out, her hands leaving her breasts and grasping the back of his head, holding onto his blond hair, her hips grinding her pussy deeper against his lips, his fingers rubbing her sweet spot over and over, carrying the orgasm into continuous, elongated waves of ecstasy. Her body convulsed, her legs ached, and she tried to clamp them together -- but felt Sam's strong arms forcing her legs open, leaving her pussy open to him, for him to continue devouring her. She looked down and watched him, watched his tongue lower from her clit to her entrance, lapping up her cream. She whimpered, shivered, convulsed, until her body went numb and she lay there -- content -- the only sound her breathing and Sam's soft, appreciative moans as he kissed between her legs just a few more times.
