This was after my rather fortunate accident reported elsewhere (me, found by my sister on the kitchen floor, unconscious, disrobed, cock fully erect); this about two months after I, myself, found my sister passed out, practically nude save a robe partially covering her most erotic parts--thigh, breast, pussy. I say fortunate, because my sister and I both discovered that we shared two mutual obsessions--our attraction to one another, and the indescribably erotic-ness of an unconscious lover.
About one week after this latest incident, Sharon phoned me. "We have to speak. I can't function. All I can think about is you lying there on my kitchen floor, your penis, so hard in my hand, in my mouth, pressing against my tongue; then I envision your eyes, your hands all over me when you found me passed out on your bathroom floor,, just for the taking. I have to see you. We have to meet."
We made an appointment to get together over the weekend at a bar in Sharon's neighborhood (Both Sharon and I were living alone, about a mile from one another.). I was in the same boat--obsessively reflecting on our exposed encounters. The anticipation of speaking directly with the object of my obsession, Sharon, was overwhelming. I was, as Sharon said of herself, a "dysfunctional" (except maybe for short periods after obsessive masturbation) "mess!"
We were seated in a private booth. Sharon pleaded, "What are we going to do! I love you. I mean, I really love you! Before the sex, I realized, that you are the only person who really listens to me. I feel I can talk to you about anything. I don't have to hide anything from you--and I don't want to. And nobody turns me on like you do! I know that we can't live together. I want a family ultimately. But I need you! Now! We need to come up with a plan!"
I replied. "I love you too, more than anything, more than anyone." I sipped my second scotch (splurged on Macallan's). Sharon was now on her second martini. The conversation turned to sex. Sharon began:
"I'm so horny. We can't start knocking each other out. But you there on the ground, just there for the taking, and then sleeping in your bed, turned me on so much. Your penis, just for me;, I started playing with it, you were so exposed, so unaware. I caressed it. As it grew, I ran my tongue up and down your shaft. You got so hard! I held it, squeezed it--and then eruption, like a volcano! And now, talking to you about it, its mind blowing. I'm so wet. Look at me-- I'm squeezing my thighs together. I can just imagine your cock inside of me. I am going to have an orgasm, right here, right now! "
I was sitting across from her, my cock fully erect, pressing against my jeans. She lowered her voice--come here. Sit next me. As I reoriented myself and slid over, Sharon slid her hand on my bulge and started pressing, rubbing. Sharon was wearing a tight fitting, transparent blouse, and a pleated skirt; Catholic-school or cheerleader erotic. She must have known that style would turn me on. I simultaneously slid my hand under the table, and under her dress. I felt her so smooth skin on her bare, inner thigh as I slid my hand up and under her panties. I felt Sharon's extreme wetness. I pressed on, under her shaved pussy, two then three fingers into her cavern. I felt for her clitoris, touched it gently and began to rub slowly. Both of us were breathing heavily, and both of us came simultaneously--The time from Sharon's hand on my bulging erection to my hand under the table and onto her thighs, and then entry and clitoris couldn't have been more than a minute. We came together, just as the waiter stepped over. God knows what he saw.
We ordered our third drink as we caught our collective breath. I said to Sharon, "You are SO beautiful. I need to undress you. I need to see you and feel you. I am so turned on. I just love you! What do we do?"
