Playing Out Ch. 02bycyanskye©
Chapter 2: Swing Set
It has been a while since I have been in this part of town. The fall air feels refreshing as my friend and I walk into the patio of this funky little place. We find a table near the pond where the mannequin now sports a stylish scarf to ward off the chill. The red lights glow warmly in the branches of the trees. My friend Gina goes to the bar to order our drinks. I settle in for an evening of music and remember the last time I was here. The guy, sweet smile, shocking blue eyes, his warm mouth on me, the shudder as we ... A chill goes down my spine. It is the air.
Gina returns with two cold beers and we each look over the patio for very different things. I know Gina is looking for her boyfriend. I am pretending to not look for anyone. I am enjoying the band, the beer, the fresh air, the crowd of people moving here and there. A woman leans into her companion and laughs, the fall air wisps by, he shifts his stance.
I feel the chill of the air on the back of my neck as I see soft brown leather loafers, perfectly pleated pants that are the same sandy color of his hair. He is here. Tonight the polo has been replaced by a crisp white button down and the deepest red silk tie whose stripes are the exact piercing blue of his eyes. My breath blows away with the breeze.
I love a man in a shirt and tie.
I watch him put his lips to the rim of his beer. I can feel them on my neck, where that first button of my blouse starts. The breeze comes through again and he is gone, replaced by the chiseled figure of the man walking toward me.
Mark is an old friend. We have had our share of drinks and satisfying encounters. He grins his stupid lopsided grin and pulls a chair up along side me. His hand brushes the edge of my skirt and my body shudders a little with an old memory of him.
"God, you look good," Mark has a way with simple words. He also has a way of moving me to the exact place that he wants me. He grabs my hands and pulls me to the dance floor. We move to the rhythm of the music, the band doesn't disappoint.
I look into his big brown eyes. For a second the air feels warmer. I can see myself reflected briefly. Do I look that hungry or is it Mark? Our bodies mirror the rhythms of the music, of each other, of our past. I catch our movement in the mosaic on the wall and the memories move through my spine, memories of movement -- standing, kneeling and lying beneath him. He can do more than dance.
Thoughts of the red silk tie with the bright blue stripes drift away in the fall air.
We return to the table. Gina has found her boyfriend and they are off chatting up another group of couples. Mark leans in. I want to be kissed. He grins and I feel like he knows what I want. "How about another beer?" he asks.
OK, I was wrong.
I watch him walk to the bar. I ponder Mark's sweet smile, his chocolate brown eyes. He is a t-shirt and denim man with a closet full of canvas shoes. I find that I am enjoying the hole in his jeans just below the pocket on his right hip. I know there is tight nylon running briefs under them. The breeze is getting warmer and it pushes desires around in my head as it clears my line of sight.
He is still at the bar. His tie is loosened and the collar of his white shirt is open. I hear the whine of a guitar and it reminds me of the shudders he sent through my being. Mark is standing beside him and I feel like the world has stopped; Mark's longish, messy brown hair next to his sharply trimmed, sandy blonde hair. They briefly touch shoulders and glance at each other. The "oh, sorry man" glance that only guys can manage passes between them. Do they realize they share so much more? I watch, unable to turn away. There is a look that they share. It shakes me to the core.
He turns in my direction. The breeze is gone replaced by the warmth of a flush in my cheeks. The crowd shifts and I can see nothing.
Mark returns to our table. We drink and talk. We catch up on life without really saying anything. I try not to look past him. He is doing everything he can to keep me with him. I laugh at a silly joke I have heard a hundred times and as I peer into his eyes I realize I have this man. He is here hoping that he can charm me into an evening of fun, sex, an escape from the boredom of everyday life.
The band starts up again and he takes my hand. He leans in and whispers "dance with me." We start to move on the floor again. I hear the strains of a Van Morrison song, one of my favorites. The breeze is warm again.
He spins me away from him and I feel the room move out of control. He pulls me back to him and stops. His arms are tight around me. I look into his eyes and see a longing in his face that the warm fall air can not move.
"Dance with ME." He repeats. Webster did not include this meaning in his dictionary. "Let's get out of here," the breeze whispers.
We glide past Gina and her group. Her boyfriend gives Mark a thumbs up. Idiot. I turn to wave once more and I see the crisp white shirt and red silk tie looking my way. His eyes take in everything, Mark's arm around me, the flush in my cheek and the desire for something physical washing over my posture. He knows where I am going. He nods his head slightly. Then he is gone in the crowd the fall breeze blowing cool.
Mark pulls me close. His mouth is cool on my lips from his beer but his breath and his tongue are warm. So are the hands that have found my ass. He pulls me even closer and I feel the metal of his zipper and beneath it the thickness of his flesh presses into me.
I let the fall breeze blow through me. It is moving me somewhere unexpected tonight. I have no choice but to let it.
We wander the sidewalk to Mark's gate. He has one of those fabulous old brownstones with the rickety fence. He opens the gate and I walk into a jungle. Trees, vines, flowering plants scent the fall air. A small brick patio offers a pit for a fire. The lush grass offers a place to start one.
He stops again and pulls me closer. He starts to say something then stops. I lean in to kiss him. I want him to know he has me, for tonight
"How about a picnic," he asks with that goofy grin.
I nod and we run like two little kids to his back door. I go in and grab the wool blanket from its place. He tosses me the bottle of wine. He grabs two glasses and flips a switch on the way out. The yard is warmed by the glow of crazy parrot lights.
I spread the blanket and pour the wine while he starts up the CD player. I smile when Van Morrison begins to croon again.
He returns to me. We each take a sip of the wine. We have nothing to say. I look up to the fall sky. The breeze is slowly undressing the moon, modest behind some flimsy clouds. Mark sits the glasses on the step of the deck. The silence begins to feel heavy when the breeze returns to earth and his hands move to my neck. They slide down my shoulders and begin to undo the buttons on my blouse.
He pushes the fabric away and then looks up. I have on a red lace bra with the look of a corset. My breasts threaten to spill over the top. I was thinking a man might like this as I dressed tonight. His grin has changed into a leer.
"Wow, do your panties match?" He asks while his hands explore the fabric embracing and now exposing my breasts.
"Wouldn't you like to know," I smile. He stands and pulls me to my feet. Van is singing about his wild nights.
Mark is sliding his hands up the outside of my thighs and under my skirt. He drops to his knees and disappears under the folds. "Wow" he exhales.
The panties do match.
I wait for the obvious move. I want to feel his breath and mouth warm against my skin. I am very aware of the lace against me and the beginning dampness I have no control over.
But instead he stands again and looks into my eyes. His hands are against my ass, pushing me close to his hips.
"That was him, wasn't it," He asks, "The guy at the bar with the white shirt and red striped tie? The guy that did you on the couch upstairs at the bar."
I silently curse Gina and her idiot boyfriend. I want to lie. I don't want anyone to know, but that isn't entirely true.
"Yes," I nod. The breeze feels cold again and a shiver moves over me but it started in Mark's hands.
"He is not your type you know," Mark looks down into my eyes and I begin to see where this could lead.
"What do you know about my type?" I try to sound belligerent.
"Educate me," Mark states. But he is way ahead of that. His hands have now slid under my bra. "What did his mouth taste like?"
So, this is our game, each of us trying to outdo the other with a fantasy of some sort. I remember playing it with Mark several times before. I guess we were too good at it. We finally decided to find that perfect person in our stories. The air washes over us and a leaf floats to the ground. Once more should be OK, but this is no fantasy.
"His mouth was so warm that I couldn't breathe when he kissed me. His tongue tasted sweet and soft....until it tasted like me." I look up into Mark's face as I state the last few words. They have the effect I hoped they would. His eyes close and I think I can see his lower lip tremble. He inhales sharply.
"What did his hands feel like on your skin?" Mark is moving his mouth down to my neck as he speaks. His lips are warm and explore the flesh behind my ear and down to where my shirt now falls open.
"His hands were soft, the fingers short and strong. He moved them over me without hesitating, pinching my nipples, squeezing..." I close my eyes. Mark's hands are imitating my words but his fingers are slender and long and his hands move roughly on my skin. They have been here before and know where they want to go.
"Sit down." He says, firmly. I sit. He pulls something out of his back pocket, the one without the hole under it. It is a silk tie, deep blue not red and it has no stripes. "It is all I have," he whispers. I smile my approval.
"Close your eyes," he breathes as he pulls the silk around my head. It falls over my eyelids and he tightens it behind my head. "Let's see if you can feel the difference between him and me."
I start to open my mouth but the reply is swallowed by his tongue as it moves into me. I know this is Mark and I lean myself onto the blanket as his weight settles into me.
"Think about his hands on you" he whispers as he moves away. I lie quietly and listen to the sounds around me, the leaves rustling in the trees, the cars moving down the street, an occasional engine dying and a door opening, a metal chink as Mark's gate rattles in the breeze. I let my mind drift back to that night at the bar and that other man's hands undressing me, his skin against mine.
Then I feel a weight return. He is sitting above my chest his back to me. I move my hands up his back and can feel his muscles strain against his shirt as he leans forward. His hands are moving up my thighs, pushing my skirt away as they move. I hold my breath as his fingers explore me. I exhale as I feel his breath down there and then his tongue against my skin. He moves around and over me. But this is not him -- this is Mark and Mark is now licking me in a place just above my clit. This is a place that only Mark has found and it quickly drives me into a frenzy.
But I don't want this to be over yet. I reach my arms up and around his torso. My hands find his zipper and rub against it before lowering it to a more out of the way place. My fingers pull his cock out of its wrapping and in response he moves his hips back so I can take him in my mouth.
I slide my tongue around him then up and down. I feel him quiver as the breeze blows over both of us. I pull the length of him into my mouth and he responds by moving his hips to the rhythm of my mouth. He stops what he is doing and I feel him fall to his elbows, his head resting on my abdomen his breath is so much warmer than the fall air. I pull him out of my mouth and let my tongue slide behind him and around his balls. I suck them against my teeth and pretend to nibble at them. His groan tells me he won't last much longer and I take him back into my mouth with the intent to empty him completely.
Mark has other ideas. He reaches back and stops me from continuing with my plan. He pulls his thick cock from my mouth and I feel the wetness of us both as he drops to my chest. He lifts his weight from me then grabs me and turns me to my stomach. "Get on your knees." he says harshly, but it is a breathless command.
I move like he tells me, the blindfold still in place. As Mark's weight shifts over me I try to conjure a memory of my mysterious man that has inspired this night but Mark has successfully removed him from my mind. I feel Mark's thickness behind my ass and it is his fingers seeking the wet warm skin where he wants to be.
He slides into me, slowly but completely and we both sigh as the breeze removes the last of the moon's cloudy cover. His hands grab my hips and pull my into him then he moves me to his rhythm and only his.
I will the blindfold to move from my eyes but I can not. I concentrate on the sounds around me again. I hear Mark breathing, his voice catching as he exhales. I hear the leaves rustling louder now and I think I hear footsteps on the sidewalk outside the gate but they stop and I realize what I hear is my own gasp as Mark pushes even deeper into me.
He stops then and leans his weight over me, reaching around to take my wrist. He pulls my hand up under our bodies and guides my fingers to the warm skin that he has invaded.
"Touch yourself," he breathes as he goes back to the rhythm that I remember from nights past. I do as I am told.
I rub the soft skin that is wet from him...and me. I push my body up and against him. My other hand moves instinctively to my forehead to wipe my hair away, moving my blindfold slightly as I do so.
We are moving faster, harder. Our breath more ragged. As I start to lose control I realize I can see. I feel my body turn cold in my skin. Barely lit by the silly parrot lights I see brown leather loafers inside Mark's slightly open gate. A dying leaf floats to the ground beside them.
It is too late and as Mark frantically releases himself into me I begin to cum. The waves blow through me with the breeze as I gasp with the release. Mark's moan seems to move the loafers away from the fence and the metal latch catches on the gate. I collapse.
Mark collapses on top of me. I can feel the warmth of his breath and then hear "I've missed you," float with the breeze into my ear.
In response I hear "I have to go," drift through the night with the clouds but it is my own voice giving these words life. I roll from under him and dress quickly as I hear him sigh. We have repeated many things tonight.
"This is whatever you want it to be...You know that right?" I hear his words following me to the fence.
"It never quite seems right though..."I whisper as I stop at the gate, straining to hear any sound on the street. I turn and glance over the yard before I go. The evidence of our night is everywhere.
A candle is burned nearly to the ground, its flame fighting back against the breeze. Our glasses sitting on the step to the deck, one has fallen over and the rich red wine is staining the grass. Mostly I see Mark. He is lying on his back on the blanket, one knee bent, and his arms up under his head, the moonlight shining on his naked form. He looks like sex. His muscles defined, his chest strong as it rises and falls with his breath. Any other time he is my fantasy. Not tonight. I am obsessed with a sound, the sight of a pair of shoes.
I have always heard that sleeping under a full moon would make you insane. Does fucking beneath one do the same thing?
As I open the gate I look again. Mark is standing now, pulling his jeans on in the moonlight. He chuckles as he drapes the blue tie around his neck and starts to whistle as he picks up the glasses, finishing the last little bit in the one left standing. The moonlight has not affected him.
I start to make my way down the sidewalk to the street when the fall breeze blows a flash of red into my line of sight. I stop and see a red silk tie with bright blue stripes tied to the fence rail and tucked under it is a slip of paper.
I reach out with a trembling hand, the cool air blowing through me, causing the trembling to move through my body as I open the note. There in front of me, written in a bold hand are the words I never thought I would see.
"I liked it better when you 'danced' with me." For a second I can't see anything else then I notice there is a little more... " Alex"
The last was followed by a date and a time, also an address, a nice address. I walk to my car and as I climb in I realize I am humming.
As I start my car a smile opens my lips as that favorite song begins to play.