The Blameless Bystander Ch. 11

"I can't wait to have you inside me," she said as they entered the bedroom.

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James saw that Tracey had turned down the covers on the bed and the lights were out, except a dim one on the dresser. They stood alongside the bed about four feet from one another. Tracey opened the robe and let it fall off her shoulders. She was lovely in the soft light. She was the most beautiful woman that James had ever seen—that many men had ever seen. James was getting more excited. As alluring as she was in the camisole, he knew that there was much more to come.

"You have to catch up," she said softly. She was right; James had on all of his clothes.

He kicked off his shoes and quickly stripped off his socks. Those out of the way, he lifted off his sweater and shirt soon followed. "Kind of a wiry build—interesting," she remarked at his upper physique, licking her lips.

He thought that she might step forward and attack his belt buckle, but she remained in place watching him. He undid the buckle and zipper himself and his trousers fell to the floor. He picked them up and folded them and placed them on the chair with his other clothes. "Neat—very unusual in a man!" she giggled but not in a girlish way, but sensually from deep in her throat. It signaled anticipation rather than humor.

Tracey's eyes flashed as she looked at James. Without ado, she took the bottom hem of her negligee and raised the garment up over her head and off. She stood before him, unashamedly nude. From the look in her eyes, James could see that she was enjoying him pour over her body from head to toe. She remained still and let him do it, not raising her hands to her hips or to cover herself or turning to obscure the angle of vision.

James was in his shorts. They were tented out as his erection was pushed out against the fabric. He knew that it was his turn to reveal himself, and he did so without delay. His hard penis pointed straight out at Tracey. A droplet of clear fluid glistened at the tip. He was more abashed as she was, and barely managed to stand still as she looked him over.

"Nice," she said softly, her eyes glued to his manhood. She approached and cupped it gently in her practiced hand. Her fingers danced sublimely on his scrotum. As he was about to return the favor, she stepped forward and kissed him. She broke it before he could kiss back and hopped onto the bed, finding the middle and lay down on her back.

"Come here and take me," she whispered.

He climbed on with her. They lay on their sides kissing for a while. He clasped a breast that he never dreamt he would see, let alone hold as he pleased. As they their tongues caressed each other he rubbed his thumb over the nipple and felt it harden. She let him know that she liked his technique through her mews and purrs and pressing her breast harder into the palm of his hand. He let his hands roam all over her, from her back, down to her buttocks cheeks and back to her breasts again. He felt her thighs pressing his as they lay together embracing. Mostly, he felt himself hard, pressing against her belly, and he knew that she must have felt it, as well.

After a while he turned her onto her back and straddled her. He bent his lips to a nipple and captured it, tenderly at first. He propped himself on his elbows until he felt her thrust her pelvis up in an attempt to press against him. He lowered his body down so that it rested on her. He rubbed himself back and forth and she pounded her vulva against him. They were panting, sweating, exciting one another. He left her breasts temporarily and trailed his mouth down her body. He reached her triangle of hair and rubbed his face in it. She grasped his head with her hands, pushing him harder against her. He dove lower, bathing his face in her warm crevice. He tasted her. She moaned loudly with pleasure, He pressed in—she yelled out.

He forced his face away from her center. He kissed and nuzzled his way up her body, stopping at her navel, each breast, even her shoulders. He continued slowly up her throat and finally her mouth. Tracey threw her legs around him. As she did, he entered her, driving all the way to the hilt. She cried out once again, thrusting up to him to meet his every stroke.

Soon, she couldn't keep pace with him. Her voice became higher, letting out a sound—between a gasp and a moan—as he pressed onward. "James!" she cried, as she climaxed. He felt her orgasm, the vagina in spasm contracting around him, the arms and legs around him in a death grip, the short puffs of breath. It was all that he had hoped for. Realizing it, he let himself go, releasing deep inside her. "Tracey!" he murmured as he finished.

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They were lying together, regaining energy after their orgasms. It was still early, and neither had anywhere else to be.

"I never expected this," he admitted.

"I planned it while I was driving home on Thanksgiving night," she answered. "At first, I wanted to do something nice for you because you've done so much for Raymond and been so nice to Shirley and her family. If it hadn't been for you I would have never been invited to Thanksgiving. Shirley and I would still be feuding."

"What do you mean 'at first'?" James asked.

"Then I realized how much I wanted it. It wasn't just for you. It was for me, too." She rested her head on his chest. "I've been in bed with so many men, for so many reasons. I just wanted to do it with a man I liked him for a good reason."

"I don't know what to say, Tracey," James said. "I like you, but I'm not sure..."

She placed her fingers over his lips to silence him.

"Don't say anything. Don't ruin it by thinking too much. We have lives to go back to after tonight. We may never be like this again, so let's enjoy it while we can."

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Thank you, once again, for choosing to read my work. I welcome your comments and questions.

Best regards,

Autumn Writer