Watched

Another wild party behind them, Jack and Susan stumble into their friend's bedroom and begin to undress. Susan unbuttons her sweater, tosses it into a chair. The gentle swell of her breasts captures his gaze. She knows he's watching every movement. A wicked smile begins to creep across her face.

"I've never slept in a waterbed before."

"Me either," Jack replied, "I wonder where Bill is planning to sleep."

Susan unbuttons her jeans and begins to wiggle them over her hips as Jack looks on, unbuttoning his own shirt to reveal the tight and almost hairless sweep of his chest. His eyes, riveted to his wife's seminude body, shine like blue jewels in the dim lighting. He's seen her undress hundreds of times, but it always seems fresh, always stirs him in a thousand places at once.

"I don't know," said Susan, kicking her jeans off, "I think he really wanted to fuck Angela, but he was coming on too strong."

"I wouldn't mind fucking Angela myself."

Susan looks at him, play-acted hurt coloring the tone of her voice.

"Not happy with what you have?"

Jacks tugs his pants over his feet and heaves them across the room. A growing erection makes a tent of his boxers as he watches lace panties fall to the floor and shadows play across soft skin and raven curls framing dark eyes and full, moist lips.

"More than happy – so much more."

"Show me..."

They move together; bare skin barely touching. Her dark, sensitive nipples graze his chest, tightening in little ridges as she tilts her head up to take his lower lip between both of her own. He can smell the scent of her hair as it brushes his cheek. His arms encircle her waist and draw her close, his hardness pressing against her belly. Their tongues begin to writhe.

He breaks the kiss; his lips brush her neck, tickling, his tongue tastes her skin: salt and sweet perfume. His breath in her ear makes her whole body shiver: goose bumps rising across her warm flesh. He whispers.

"I know where Bill is."

"Who cares… " She begins to squirm as the shivers take control. "You know what that does to me."

His tongue continues to tease the folds of her ear; she can feel the wetness between her legs, so ready to feel him inside, so ready to be thrown down on the waterbed and ridden to orgasm after orgasm. Their hips rock and grind; the dance begins, right there at the foot of the bed. Another whisper in her ear.

"What if Bill were here now, watching us?"

It wasn't the first time they'd shared this fantasy, and the thrill of it seemed never to get old. Jack could feel a wetness begin, slick against the inside of his boxers.

"What if Bill were hiding in the closet, right now, watching through the louvers?"

"Oh God..." she runs her nails up his bare back, the dark heat between her legs beginning to glow red. Jack runs a finger between the folds, feeling wet, feeling heat: an eruption boiling, hidden just beneath the surface of her soft, close trimmed hair. Her hips grow tense, muscles taught, pressed against his. Tingles begin to build, fingers swirl, playing, taking her higher. Jack whispers again.

"He's in there right now, watching us."

Nails digging into his back. Moans, low and sensual, lost in the moment.

"He's looking now, you can almost feel his eyes."

Susan wraps a leg behind his knee, opens herself wider; her body begins to shudder, her hips have a mind of their own.

"His eyes brush the back of your heel, can you feel it?"

"Yes."

"His gaze walks up the back of your leg. He's wishing it were his tongue, tickling the back of your knee. He tastes you with his eyes. He's taking his time. He's exploring you."

"Tell me more."

"You can feel his lips now, moving higher, up the back of your thigh. You shudder. Yes, like that. Just like that. You're wishing he would move faster."

"Yes."

"Suddenly you feel his tongue, just below your ass, back and forth, almost between your legs, teasing. Then he's kneading your ass, spreading you open. You feel the first touch of his breath behind you and you back against him and he's sucking you there, his tongue darting in and out, opening you, making you wetter and wetter. I can feel how wet you are. You're soaking."

"I want you to fuck me."

Two bodies fall to the bed, waves exploding all around, boxers all but ripped off and her hand wraps around him – it's his turn to moan.

She pumps her hand up and down the shaft, the skin rising and falling, painfully slow: maddening. His hips flex as she crawls on top of him and waits, poised, the tip barely touching the dark hair between her thighs. A wicked, playful grin as their eyes meet.

"Don't stop talking to me..."

"Can you feel his breath on the curve of your back?"

"Yes."

She sinks lower, guiding the tip between her outer lips. It feels like he's been dipped into hot water and he thrusts to penetrate deeper. She backs off, teasing, stroking, rubbing him against the bright button hidden between her folds.

"His hands are on your hips now, kneading your shoulders. He tells you there's nothing in the world so beautiful as you are at this moment; the curve of your spine highlighted in moonlight, your skin flushed, the muscles of your back rippling just beneath the surface, your head thrown back – you're waiting to feel him inside you. He tells you he can smell your hair and you turn to look at him..."

"Oh God oh God don't stop..."

His cock slips inside her and she rides, beautiful, wild as the night that covers the world. He gasps for breath and isn't catching it. He's just looking at her, watching the motion of her breasts as they move in time to their rhythm. His hands explore her body, up and down the curve of her spine, around to her nipples to pinch and tease. She braces herself on his chest, red fingernails marking the skin, hair flying, wild, flicking back and forth across his face. She's gasping now, can barely speak.

"More."

The sounds of breathing, of flesh slapping flesh, of dark moans and ecstatic passion and the waves beneath running wild.

"More."

"You turn to look at him..."

"Yes."

"He's pulled his zipper down and you can see his cock."

"Oh..."

"He's watching you, and he's stroking himself. He's uncut. You can see the folds of skin cover the head and then draw back. A drop of fluid oozes out to land on the bed."

"...God!"

"He tells you he's going to come. He tells you he's going to shoot it all over you..."

No more talking. She rides, hips move at blinding speed as he stabs into her, impaling her. She contorts around him and everything goes blank, a white flash and the dam bursts and she's screaming and thrusting and shuddering, fingers locked in the covers tearing them free and he's shooting hot thick streams inside her and the world collapses to a single point and the writhing just goes on and on and on.

They lay, afterward, catching their breath. They have no more words. They stroke each other almost absently, lovingly. They drift off to sleep, still engaged.

The closet door opens, footsteps cross the carpet. The gentle click of the lock and a door swings wide, then shuts.

Copyright ©2002 Veragem, all rights reserved. Not to be reprinted or re-posted in whole or in part without the consent of the author.