Hospitality

It was almost midnight when my husband's best friend, Josh, stumbled through the back door. I looked at the clock and shook my head. Why did he always stay out so late on a work night? No wonder it was so hard to wake him up in the morning. My good, sensible husband had gone to bed hours ago. I guess maybe I was glad Josh stayed up so late. The company was nice on the long sleepless nights that I, as an insomniac, suffered from so often. He had been living with us for a month now, and I don't think I'd seen him go to bed before 2 AM even once, no matter how early he had to get up in the morning. Not that I was surprised with all the stress he was going through with the divorce. The only reason he was even living with us is because his wife had gotten a restraining order on him so he couldn't go home to his own house. So here we both were, midnight on a Tuesday, neither one of us able to sleep.

Josh strolled into the living room where I sat writing, working on my book like I always did in the late, quiet hours of the night. I could tell he'd been drinking, if not by the half empty beer in his hand, then by the strong smell of alcohol wafting from his direction. He flopped down on the couch next to me and offered me a sip of beer, but I declined, never having cared for it much.

"Hey, 'sup, woman," he slurred. "Where's your man at?"

"Its midnight, he's in bed," I told him.

"So what are you up to?"

"Nothing much, just sittin' here by myself like usual," I replied, feeling a bit lonely and forlorn as I spoke.

"I'm gonna go downstairs and watch tv if you wanna come down and hang," he offered.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," I told him.

I heard him wobble down the stairs to the basement, to the little family room with the pull out couch that he was using while he stayed with us. Saving the small amount of progress I had made that evening, I turned off my computer and followed him downstairs. He was sitting on the couch in the dark, only a small sliver of light from the basement stairwell spilling into the room. Sitting down beside him, we both sat there for a few minutes, the occasional slosh of liquid as he took a swig of his beer the only sound. Josh was never this quiet. He was the happy boisterous type, a big goofy grin constantly plastered across his face as he entertained everyone with the many tales of his drunken debaucheries. But tonight he seemed somber, introspective. It was so out of character for him that it had me worried.

"What's wrong?" I finally asked him.

"Nothin', just tired." He replied. "I need a vacation."

"What you need," I told him, "Is to skip a few nights of partying and get some sleep."

"Your probably right," he agreed with a laugh, "but we both know that ain't gonna happen."

I knew he was right, and we sat in silence for a little while more. He was so quite I had begun to think he'd fallen asleep. I started to get up and go back to work on my book, when he spoke again.

"I don't know if I've thanked you for letting me stay here," he said. "I really do appreciate it more then I can say. I feel guilty imposing on you guys like this."

"Josh, you've been Mike's best friend since high school," I told him. "You know our home is your home."

"Your a good friend," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder.

I allowed him to pull me over to him and rested my head on his chest. There was nothing unusual about us sitting like that together, his arm around me, my head resting on his chest or shoulder. We had been close, almost like brother and sister, for most of the six years that we'd known each other. We often got physical together. Wrestling, tickling, pushing and shoving, hugs and a quick kiss on the cheek were not uncommon. But tonight something seemed different. As we sat there together, in the quiet, in the dark, I was very aware of his heart beat beneath my cheek, strong and steady, if not a little fast. I could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, feel his body heat penetrating through his shirt.

He suddenly seemed so human and vulnerable. I draped my arm across his waist and hugged him, wishing I could ease his pain. He rested his cheek on my forehead and sighed. He shifted his position a little, getting more comfortable, which caused the bottom of his sweatshirt to pull up from the waistband of his jeans. I realized my arm was no longer resting on fabric, but on bare skin instead. He seemed to take in a sharp breath as he became aware of the unexpected skin-on-skin contact. His belly felt soft and warm against my bare arm, and before I could stop myself, I found my fingers gently stroking his smooth skin, toying with the light scattering of hair that trailed down his abdomen and disappeared below his belt. He let out a soft moan and tightened his arm around my shoulder, his fingers digging into my upper arm.

"God, that feels good," he whispered so softly that at first I wasn't sure if he had really said anything.

I slipped my hand up under his shirt, exploring the muscled contours of his chest. My thumb brushed over his right nipple and I felt him shiver against me. He turned towards me, wrapping both arms around my waist. Next thing I knew, he had pulled me onto his lap. I straddled his thighs, feeling the hard evidence of his desire pulsing between us.

"You have no idea how bad I want you," he murmured in my ear, "how bad I've wanted you since the first time I saw you."

His words penetrated me to the core, making the place between my thighs melt into quivering wetness. He must have sensed my need, or maybe felt the damp heat radiating from my pussy, because his fingers were tugging my panties aside. He slipped a fingertip into my soft folds, seeking out and finding the engorged clit that anxiously awaited his touch. The tip of his finger teased the throbbing little bud as he ever so slowly and excruciatingly circled around it and stroked beside it, above it, below it, everywhere but its sensitive tip, which I knew would make me explode into orgasm.

"Please let me cum," I whimpered softly.

"Say my name first," he commanded, his voice soft but firm in the darkness. "I want to make sure you know who's making you cum."

"Mmm, Josh," I sighed into is ear. "Please, Josh, make me cum."

I sucked gently on his earlobe as I gyrated my hips, desperate to get my clit under his maddeningly elusive touch.

"Say it again."

"Josh, oh, Josh, please," I pleaded, pressing my body against him and twining my fingers through his hair.

This seemed to satisfy him, because a few endless seconds later he was plunging his fingers into my dripping wet cunt, sliding them in and out a few times before finally attacking my clit, using his thumb to work it into a furious orgasm. I buried my face against his neck to muffle the unstoppable cry of relief that erupted from my lips. My body shivered uncontrollably, my inner muscles contracting around his fingers while I exploded with wave after wave of pleasure. He seemed to instinctively know the exact moment to stop toying with my clit, after my orgasm had subsided, but before it became oversensitive and unbearable to be touched.

I found his lips in the darkness, felt them part beneath my own, tasted the beer and cigarettes on his breath as our tongues met. His hands were on my hips under my nightshirt, his fingers digging into my soft flesh. I slid a hand down to his belt and worked the buckle free, following quickly with the button and zipper of his jeans. His rigid cock sprang free of its denim prison, and he groaned into my mouth as I ran teasing fingertips along its length. I could feel his hips rising up off the couch as he wordlessly begged for more stimulation.

Sliding down off his lap, I knelt on the floor between his feet. I yanked his jeans down as he pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. His naked body was a barely visible form in the darkness, so I used my hands to see what my eyes could not. I ran my fingers through his tousled curls and over his face, stroking the contours of his cheekbones, his lips, his chin, down the strong column of his neck to his broad shoulders. His chest heaved as I toyed with the hard little nubs of his nipples. Leaning forward, I ran my tongue around one, smiling when I heard the sharp intake of breath and a few panting gasps of pleasure. I kissed my way down to the ripple of his abs, his skin like silk beneath my lips. I nibbled around his navel and followed the trail of downy fuzz that drew me down to his desperately seeking cock. My lips grazed it only briefly before moving down to his inner thigh, extracting a curse of dismay.

"Ah, God, your such a cruel bitch."

I tickled his inner thigh with the tip of my tongue, slowly working my way down towards his knee, then switching to the other thigh and working my way back up again. He was squirming in his seat, his breathing quickening in anticipation as I once again approached the demanding erection sprouting from his groin. When I reached the top of his thigh, I turned my attention to his balls, which were pulled up tight and firm beneath his cock. I licked and kissed the cool, wrinkly skin of his sack, a sensation that seemed to drive him crazy. His incoherent pleas for mercy were taking on a tone that now bordered on hysteria.

"Do you like that?" I murmured from my place between this thighs.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Please...no one has touched me in so long. Don't start something you're not gonna finish."

I responded by running my tongue up the underside of his shaft and popping the straining head into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the tip before going down deep on him, swallowing his full length deep into my throat. I slid him in and out of the gentle suction created by my lips and tongue and within seconds he seemed to convulse, barely even breathing, the hot, bitter taste of him flowing over my tongue. He buried his hands in my hair, pulling it in large fistfuls as he groaned my name through gritted teeth. Even after the flood of semen had ceased, his cock continued to pulse and jerk in my mouth. He held my head between his hands, as if afraid I would leave his endless orgasm unfulfilled. I could feel his hips and thighs flexing, helping to drive is erection deeper into the hot, wet, willing mouth that was sending him to such heights of ecstasy. Just when I thought his orgasm was truly endless, I felt him relax, his softening penis sliding out from between my lips as he slumped over breathlessly on the couch.

"I guess it has been a while," I teased him a few minutes later, when he had recovered and sat drinking the rest of his beer and smoking a cigarette.

He shot me a look.

"Keep it up, woman," he warned, and I was happy to see the familiar mischievous gleam back in his eyes. "Next time I wont let you off, or should I say get you off, so easy."