It All Just Came Together Ch 02

"He won't be my first, you know."

"I know ... remember? You told me about one."

"Oh. Yeah. That's right. But that was a long time ago. And there was another one."

"Mm hmm."

"And ... well ... he'll be different, right?"

"Definitely."

Another long pause. We could hear him in the shower.

"I'm getting a little scared."

"That's OK ... go with it. It's exciting."

"Yeah. It is. I'm ... I'm wet again."

I laughed a little. "You little slut ... you're playing with yourself under there, aren't you?"

"Uh huh ... a little."

"Don't make me come over there ..."

"I'd LOVE for you to come over here."

"Just be patient," I said. We heard the shower turn off.

"Oh god!" she said, as she playfully pulled the blanket up to hide everything but her eyes, squealing and kicking her feet under the blanket like a little kid.

This was so much fun.

Then, he was coming into the living room, a towel around his waist, drying his hair with a towel, his biceps bouncing, he smiled at us.

"Hi," he said. God, how I love that man, I thought.

He tossed the towel he was using on his hair aside, and went to the fireplace. He stoked it some, threw on another couple of logs. Is it possible he knew how his back rippled as he squatted by the fire? Did he know how hot he looked in the firelight? Probably not. A few years older than me, middle age had taken its toll on him, and he now found it hard to believe that I still found him sexy. But I did. And I knew she did, too.

When he was done, he put the poker back in the rack and turned to us, the fire lighting him from behind. By this time, I was playing with myself, too. And yes, I was wet.

"May I," he asked, as he gestured to the middle place on the couch.

We both pulled our feet back some, and he sat, then drew our feet back to the middle onto his lap. He arranged the blankets so they covered his lap, our feet, his hands.

He just sat there, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, and began to massage our feet, staring into the fire. I was tempted to seek out his cock with my foot, but I didn't. He seemed to have a plan or something. I realized that he probably had his hard cock trapped down between his own thighs, keeping it out of play, as it were, for now. He knew there'd be plenty of time for that. He's a smart one. Two heads, as they say ...

After a while, he began to focus most of his attention on her feet, to the neglect of mine. Giving me "the look," and a final, comforting pass of his hands on my feet and ankles, he turned a bit more toward her. He must have smiled at her, because although I could only see the back of his head, I saw her look at his face, then look away, smiling shyly. God, I was so turned on. I was actually starting to feel impatient. I wanted to just lunge at him, scramble up on his back and push him onto her, into her ... I didn't, of course. lnstead, I just pressed the heel of my hand against my sex and made slow, firm circles there, leaning back in the corner of the couch to watch.

Her eyes closed and he leaned toward her a bit more. I realized he was now massaging her legs, probably her calves. I saw her stir under the blanket, and realized one of her hands was on her breast.

Nice. I found myself gently stroking my breast, as well.

She was breathing slow and deep now, and he leaned further toward her, the muscles of his back and shoulders stretching out some. She sighed a little. He was stroking her thighs.

I saw one slender leg slide down, off the couch, her foot touching the floor. She sighed again, and I knew that if he wasn't touching her cunt, he was very, very close.

Then there was a little gasp and I was sure of it. If she was wet before, I bet she was nearly coming now, but having just heard her come earlier that day, I'd know when it finally happened.

"Come here," I heard him say softly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Total doe eyes.

"C'mon. I want to kiss you. Let me hold you."

He reached out, and she finally took his hand and let him draw her up. He stroked her hair, her face, and leaned in to kiss her, softly. It lasted a while, but it was soft and gentle. They broke the kiss and he drew her more into his arms. She pressed her face to his chest.

Then she pulled back a bit. "Again," she said, and they kissed again. This time it went from soft, gentle and slow to deep, breathy, and slow. I saw her hands come around his torso, sliding over the smooth, pale skin of his back

I wanted to reach out and run my hands with hers over all that skin, to feel his muscles tense up as he held her, to feel his heat, to let him know I was there, and was in this with him, but I resisted the urge. There'd be time for that. Now, it was time for them to connect, for them to find out how to touch each other, how to kiss, how to hold each other. How strange that now they were seeking just a little bit of what he and I had found over the years together, and I realized that they would, in just a few minutes, just as she and I had done only a few hours earlier. How quickly it would come to them! It wouldn't be what he and I had, but it would do. It would do just fine.

I heard him moan and realized that her hand had found him under the blanket, under the towel still around his waist. Their kiss grew wetter, a little noisier, as his fingers teased at her, and her hand stroked him.

Then, I heard her say "yes ... yes ..." and I saw that they were no longer kissing. Her face was against his neck, her eyes closed, I could see her face over his shoulder. She was straining against him and she gave a little cry and I knew he was making her come with his fingers. "Yes! God, yes ... " she whispered and their movement slowed.

"The bedroom?" he asked.

"No," she said softly. Then, after a moment, she said "here." Her eyes opened and she looked at me, dreamily. "Right here, all three of us." She smiled and kissed his neck, his ear, and then his mouth as she slid onto his lap, facing him, their mouths sealed together, an even deeper kiss and then I heard her moan as she slid down onto him.

I leaned further back into the corner of the couch and drew the blanket up over myself, watching them begin to rock together, watching my husband fuck our friend, watching her fuck my husband. She hung on him, her arms resting on his shoulders, her hands in his hair, his hands sliding over her everywhere, her small body rising and falling, for a while, then settling down on him and just rocking back and forth, back and forth, then rising and falling on him again.

My fingers pressed into me, the heel of my hand still grinding on my clit. When my other hand pulled hard at my nipple, I began to come. I'm not as quiet a lover as she is, and I cried out. She broke their deep kiss and looked at me, she moaned and said "oh, god, yes ... do it ... do it ..." and began to ride him a little faster, a little harder, looking into my eyes as she rolled her hips on him.

"Do it ... come with us ... come with us ..." and then she buried her face in his neck and I heard her soft little come-cry and his began soon after, as he bucked up into her, drenching her inside, I knew, as he groaned his deep, throaty come sound, holding her to him hard, but somehow still gently, the way he does sometimes. I came again, too.

She settled on him, then, and they kissed some more. Some time passed. It was almost like sleep.

"Now, the bedroom," I heard her say and she reached out to me. She and I helped each other up, and I put my arm around her and led her down the hall to our bedroom. As we went, I heard him putting the fire to bed. We crawled under the covers, and I held her to me as we listened to the sound of him closing up the house, turning off the lights. Soft music came on through the bedroom speakers. She looked up at me sorta surprised. "Did he do that from out there?"

I nodded and she just laughed. "You are so spoiled! I could get used to this." Her wet pussy was against my thigh and we kissed.

"Make love to me," she whispered, and I did.