No Fucking Around

"This is your fault..." I gasped as the side of his hand now slid on my slick pussy, gliding in between my folds and finding plenty of oil to coat us. "For having such a gorgeous cock."

"No," he grunted, curling a finger to toy with the rim of my pussy opening as I focused my tugging efforts on the head of his cock, "you wanted to see it full."

"And hard," I agreed. "But we shouldn't—"

Jared whipped me around, sliding the hand that had been supporting him into my blonde hair. Gripping me by the sweaty roots, he turned me and pressed me against the wall. From the corner of my eye, I could see him staring down at my pert, upturned ass like a starved man.

"This is what you want, you hot minx," he panted, struggling with his self-control as he held the dress up over my naked ass.

His cock pulsed in my hand and strained toward me. My knees were spread against the brick, my panties now around my ankles, my back arched, my pussy open and waiting, my grip on his thrusting shaft tight—the only barrier left between my faithfulness and knowing the feeling of that fat cock being driven deep inside me by an undeniable urge.

"Don't you dare fuck me, Jared," I warned and stroked him, desperately angling his cock away when I felt it getting too close. The warm head nudged the flesh of my thigh, and I trapped it against my leg so it could thrust against me. Alarm oozed up from under my intense lust. If I moved the pulsing flesh again, it would be in me.

"I'm already fucking you," he hissed, the cock straining against my hand and the top of my thigh. "This where you draw the line?"

I didn't reply, and our bodies didn't—couldn't—stop their motion. Though the streets were as noisy as our breathing, the silence was tangible. And the urge to be filled was driving me crazy. My arm quivered from the effort, from the pressure of keeping Jared's cock out of my needy pussy. Either he shifted or I did, and the tip touched my sensitive folds; I imagined glistening precum kissing a swollen clit.

"Don't, Jared," I panted one last time, gritting my teeth as his stroking sped up and inflamed the gap between my legs. I was trapped in the fire and knew I couldn't take any more. Something had to give, and I grunted with his every thrust, clinging to that last ounce of will.

"Your fault," he grunted as his cock pulsed against my resistance. Dropping his mouth to my shoulder and biting me in his frustration and ecstasy, he groaned and pumped cum onto my superheated skin and grasping fingers.

Though I could still hear Jared and the club and my gasping breaths, it was like I didn't perceive any of that over the static in my head. It all seemed so quiet, like a vacuum after the intensity of a tornado. In little bits, I noticed the bricks scraping the insides of my knees, the pull of my hair from his fist, the calves that strained from being on my tiptoes.

Relief warred with disappointment as he began relaxing. His grip loosened on my hair as his cock began to soften. Then the static in my head coalesced, and it was all I could do to not weep. I had dodged a bullet—such a close call! Yet my pussy cried that it wasn't feeling the throbbing and that hot cum. That it wasn't stretched and spasming from having to accommodate Jared's frenzied thrusts.

This longing made me bite my lip and curse myself as I released my grip on the cock that had so nearly penetrated me. How quickly it had reached this point—one instant we'd been playful friends, and in the next blink, we were desperate sex maniacs! My curiosity and teasing had swept me into danger at the speed of a wind-driven wildfire.

I felt my skirt fall into place and reached for my panties as I turned my back to the wall. I was still shaking and breathing hard, and I was still damning myself for letting this happen, while trying to avoid looking at Jared. I had my husband to satisfy me, and he did that well. No fucking way should I have his friend's cum dribbling down my fingers and inner thigh!

"Sorry," Jared mumbled as he tucked himself back into his pants and re-buttoned the fly. After a shaky breath, and probably after rejecting a thousand other things to say, he continued. "You've gotta stop teasing me, Angie. Please. I can't take it."

I nodded as I wiped my hands on my skirt and stared at the ground under his shifting feet. "Yeah, sorry. We... I got carried away. It won't happen again—thiscan't happen again, Jared."

"Cool. Okay. Umm, let's get back inside before I have to say something else."

He motioned for me to go first, and with another nod and a steadying breath, I stepped around the corner and headed for the door. Each step seemed to clear my head and strengthen my resolve to never repeat my mistake. Please let me just have a good time, I begged that cluster of emotions in my head.

As the noise and buoyant atmosphere welcomed us back into its midst, it became important that we finish the night on a positive, fun note, and that I end up in my loving husband's arms. There'd be plenty of quiet time to sort through the aftermath from this loss of control. From what felt like a loss of innocence. Dancing close to the fire is no fun if you get burned, and now I guess I couldn't say I've never been burned.

The rhythm swept me up in it, promising to help me put off my worries, but as I began to gyrate, I thought about Jared behind me. Would he consider that flirting? After seeing much of my body—after feeling the soft and heated skin—would it be hard to watch it move beneath my skimpy clothes? I now felt a caution that, in my naivety, I had never experienced before, and I settled for moving my arms as I wove through the crowd.

Jared leaned close enough so I could hear him. "I'm going to buy us shots." When I nodded, he headed toward the bar.

I found Mark dancing with one of the younger couples we often see when we're clubbing. Wrapping my arms around him, I yelled that Jared was buying us more drinks. He gave the thumbs-up sign, waved goodbye to the couple, and followed me to the bar. We toasted to friends and lounged around, though I made sure not to look at Jared more than I had to.

"So, now that we've danced and sweated," Mark began after ordering another round of shots, "are you're wearing any panties?"

"Matching, of course," I answered, but only where Mark could hear me.

"Aha! So I was right." He squeezed me in a shoulder hug while jostling his friend. "Matching ones so you can't tell where the dress leaves off and the covered treasure begins. How hot is that, Jared?"

Even though he managed a grin, I could tell Jared was uncomfortable with the obvious ribbing. "Yeah, hot," he answered. "She's the hottest sex I've never had."

Mark laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. After acknowledging the joke, I turned my pleading eyes on my husband.

"Seriously though, we need to stop making our friend uncomfortable." When he began to protest, I murmured in his ear. "Please, husband, or it's going to make us awkward around each other. I already feel...bad."

"Alright," Mark relented with a sigh. "Fine."

"Besides," I continued where only he could hear, "it's high time for us to get home so we can dance on each other."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Mark closed his tab, and we headed into the mild night air. Only those short blocks separated the strip of clubs and bars from the quiet of our house, but fortunately it was plenty of time and walking to ensure our friend could safely drive. I would feel far less comfortable venting my sexual frustration if Jared was within earshot. I knew we'd make lots of noise—well, it would mostly come from me as I climbed all over my husband. And I was more aware than ever how unfair that was to Jared.

True to form, Mark was the perfect "dancing" partner, rocking my world and giving me the internal earthquakes I so desperately needed. The intimate joining reaffirmed my love for him and my commitment to never stray. As my afterglow faded toward that warm sleepy glow, I ran through the confusing emotions in my head.

Without a doubt, I know the line you shouldn't cross isn't a physical line—it's in your head, in your cravings and imagination. I hadn't understood that before, but now Ifelt it. When I yearned to feel Jared's cock pumping into me, I was already fucking around, even before he squeezed my nipple or slid his fingers along my pussy opening. I have to live with that and learn from that, and now I feel scarred somehow. I might be wiser now, but I had traded that for my happiness in myself, before I knew what trouble I could get myself into.

Mark and I will survive and grow closer because that's what we both want to do, need to do. We're perfect for each other, anchors in this wild and crazy life. But in those dark corners, in my honest moments, I feel Jared's cock spreading me wide open and plunging inside. My shame over my mistake, over the fact that the imagining almost became reality, will guard me against ever falling into that trap again. Without that caution, my curiosity could kill me, emotionally. No amount of discovery is worth that.

*

© Copyright 2010 by Kev Henley. All Rights Reserved. Please do not copy or share this work without my written permission. Respect creative ownership.

Author's note: When I'm not editing for others or writing for publication, I experiment. Hopefully you enjoyed this short story and will give it a vote. The concept in this piece is one I've long considered. As our society evolves and becomes more choice-driven (for both genders), the role of attraction outside a traditional (and some would argue, outdated) marriage is a hotly debated, complex issue. I have personally seen modern couples struggle with it, and I've read about it enough to believe it's pervasive in the western societies.

Sporadically, I've worked on an intense and loaded novella with a similar topic, so I'd truly love feedback on what you see here, especially about your opinion on the motives that cause us to do what we do in sexually compromising situations. Constructive criticism in a PM or email will most certainly prompt a thoughtful reply from me, and even if I'm too swamped to reply to each, you have my sincere thanks. Kev