Alone, Together

Maybe I should have started slow - I assume it's been a while for Angie after all. But if she has any complaints about what I'm doing she doesn't share them with me. And I think I'm a good enough reader of a lover to know when they're enjoying themselves. With Angie it shows with the flush of skin on her cheeks and slightly freckled chest, and the way her hands go to play with her pale pink nipples when I'm not giving them attention.

And also the way she pants "harder".

Leaning up from her so I'm kneeling between her legs, I wrap my hands around her milky white thighs, spreading her legs wider, before I start to take her again. My teeth are bared as all of my frustrations with my wife are taken out on Angie's tight pussy with pounding strokes, and I watch as my bare cock pounds into her pink sex. How it glistens from her arousal. Then I watch how her tits bounce on her chest, pushed towards the ceiling as her back arches. Her moans become louder, more boisterous, and I see her hand slide down her lithe body so she can start to massage her clit.

I glance up from her sex to look at her face and see her eyes scrunched shut and her mouth wide. I see her take a flutter of a breath. And then Angie quivers and shakes as her orgasm crashes over her. Her free hand grips tight to the sofa cushions as she hoarsely moans out, and I feel her pussy clench around my cock as she coats it with her release.

The sight of her release coupled with how she clenches around me is too much. And despite all my actions being the wrong ones before this point, the rational side of my mind finally shouts louder. Because I know I can't cum in this woman. So I quickly pull out and place a hand on the arm of the sofa behind Angie's head while the other grips the base of my cock as it starts to explode over her soft stomach.

Angie's hand is back on me, gripping my bicep as we watch the last of my seed spurt on her torso. The other is running through the viscous cum, rubbing it into the soft skin of her stomach.

It's an incredibly hot image to leave on before what we've done takes center stage in my consciousness.

"Oh fuck," I moan, collapsing down and pressing my head against the sofa arm, eyes closed as the enormity of what I've just done sinks in. I'd never thought of another woman in my years of marriage, not even with the enforced celibacy. And now I'd undone all that with one of my wife's closest friends.

Angie's hands stroke along my chest and I open my eyes to look down at her. "Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

"Not really."

Her head tilts away from me and her teeth bite down on her lower lip. I can see the hurt in her eyes then, and I know my answer wasn't the right one for her. But I know I can't help but feel the guilt of what I've done and push myself up from where I had hovered over her.

I sit at the end of the sofa beside her feet and push the balls of my hands into my eye sockets. Beside me I hear Angie shift and then get off the sofa, her lights steps leading away from me as she heads to what sounds like the kitchen.

What have I done? Of all the things to do, and with this woman too...

Minutes pass and in that time my consciousness demands answers from my libido about what it's just done but all it can do is shrug mutely. When I hear Angie come back in my head is still in my hands, and I don't uncover my eyes until she speaks, her voice the snap of ice.

"I don't feel bad, and neither should you," she tells me firmly, and I look up to see her pulling on her late husband's shirt she had been wearing before. It's another reminder of how wrong everything we just did was.

"I'm married, Angie. To your best friend," I tell her weakly, but she just shakes her head.

"I know, but I needed that" she replies desperately. "Do you know what it's like to be this alone? Everybody thinks just because I'm widowed I suddenly stop having these feelings and needs, but I don't Tim. I need to feel like that. Like what you just did to me."

"Ange," I groan, standing up and pulling up my boxers and jeans to cover my now soft cock.. "That's all fine. But it shouldn't be me doing that for you. You're cute and hot - you could go out there and meet someone else easily."

"And have everyone judge me because it's been less than a year since Harry died?" she snaps.

"They'll judge you if they find out what we did too." I reply, much too harshly.

It's selfish of me to say, and I instantly regret it. She looks aside and her lips go thin. But that's nothing compared to the disappointed look in her eyes. I'd given her something tonight, something normal, and immediately I'd snatched it away and forced her to deal with the guilt I am feeling. She storms past me and up the stairs, not stopping as I call after her.

There's nowhere for us to hide though. Not in this place, in the middle of a storm. I close my eyes and toy with the ring around the finger on my left hand, remembering when a beautiful redhead passed it to me in a church almost a decade ago. I stiffly move to the kitchen to finish getting dressed and try and forget how good that same redhead had felt as I gave us what we both clearly needed.