At a Party

He wanted her. He watched her talk confidently and light-heartedly to the other people in the room. In his head she was in the grip of an eye-rolling orgasm, bucking naked and drenched on his bed. But she was off-limits... his thoughts were private.

Her fantasies had a tendency to get out of control sometimes. Sometimes they would be of the two of them discussing how they felt, and they were the more dangerous ones. She had never felt guilty about fantasising of a mystery teacher cumming messily all over the exposed vagina of a previously-lesbian-only sixth form student (while the mystery-blonde's girlfriend sits over her like on a saddle, over her stomach, on her fingers, facing her cum-soaked thighs and cumming herself, riding the fingers, contracting and pulsating all over her girlfriend)... But he was off-limits. This could never and would never happen. Still, she could feel the sexual tension between them so thick, her heart thudded; her rib-cage was held high; her stomach felt low in her body; her sexuality was alive and fizzing.

As they're both enjoying the party atmosphere, the unspoken vibes are bouncing back and forth at a dangerous pace. None of this has ever been said out loud. In fact, neither is actually sure the other feels this way. Neither person has ever spoken a word about their feelings or crossed that line because they are both in other relationships and their partners are part of the same circle of close friends. Plus, they're not the cheating kind. It would rip lives apart. But there's nothing wrong with a fantasy...

In his, they're in the car on the way back from somewhere quite a drive away. Both their partner's were elsewhere for the rest of the day and everything was cool between them. They were having a laugh in the car, it wasn't too awkward. He remembered exactly why he had such a crush on her. She was sexy, with a pretty face, gorgeous hair and perfectly shaped tits. She was a curvy size ten and knew how to move that body when she walked, when she talked, when she flirted.

'Okay, so here's a secret,' she laughs. 'I shouldn't really say this, but... oh no, I can't!'

'What? what is it?' he laughed.

'Okay: I fantasise about you. There, I said it!'

He looks over to her. His face displays concerned shock, but in his head he's jumping for joy. Now is his chance to put a stop to all this.

'What do you fantasise about?' he accidentally finds himself saying. He's avoiding eye contact to give the impression of nonchalance, and yet awaiting her reaction like a lion for its gazelle. Plus, of course, he's driving.

At in the passenger seat, she was biting her bottom lip naughtily but couldn't conceal her smile and flirty eyes.

'About making you cum without using anything but my mouth... about lap dancing for you while wearing fish-nets, stilettos, a white shirt, a black tie, a bowler hat and red lipstick to any song you want to see me strip to... about dominating you while smoking a cigarette and watching you ache to cum... about lots of things.'

He imagines her licking his balls with that sharp tongue... about her unbuttoning that white shirt to reveal the peaches and cream skin beneath it... about her taking complete control of him... He's so fucking turned on at the thought, the road's the last thing on his mind now. He has to park somewhere, not to do anything, but so he's not a freakin' danger to anyone!

Luckily they're approaching a quiet lane he knows well. They turn into a disused old car park behind an abandoned club. He kills the engine and turns to her, with a serious face and heart pounding.

'We can't do those things.' He says seriously, longing that he could passionately kiss her at this very second and make love to her immediately.

'How about we just get this excitement out of our system? It wouldn't count as cheating, because once it's done we'll stop wondering what it's like, and so we're no longer a threat to each other's relationships!' she suggests hopefully. 'Like this...' she moves towards him and with intense eye contact kisses him passionately, biting his lip slightly as she pulls away. She lowers her eyes then brings them up again. They're sparkling and beautiful. 'That doesn't count as cheating, because I only did it to get it out of my system, so I can have a better relationship with my boyfriend.'

'It felt like cheating to me,' he protests dazedly, his dick pumping with blood.

'It's not. Neither is this,' she whispers with a wink, this time leaning over further still and breathing lightly on his neck. He can't help it. He groans with pleasure. She pinches his neck gently with her teeth and laughs quietly and dirtily as she breathes suggestively into his ear for a moment.

'No. This is wrong. We should stop,' he says seriously, but not moving a muscle.

'There's nothing wrong with this,' she says with puppy dog eyes as she moves to look him in the eye. She undoes her seatbelt and straddles him in the driver's seat. 'Or this,' are her final words as she goes to kiss him again. This time it's beyond his control. He's a human and it's human nature after all. He kisses her fully; his hands plant heavily on her lithe back before quickly moving down to her hips, then up her front to her breasts. As he fondles her breasts frantically she's obviously just as turned on as he his. Suddenly everything's urgent. He needs to be inside her, he HAS to fuck her senseless this very second. She's wearing a skirt, he pushes her knickers aside and touches a thumb and finger onto her wet cunt. She has to be fucked immediately. There's not enough room in this car. As if mind reading, she opens the car door and says breathlessly: 'Come on.'

They're out into the open air. It's 2pm on a weekend but there is nobody else around in the old carpark. Kissing and biting at each other frantically, they take several steps until she's up against the nightclub wall. Her back is arched against the red bricks so her breasts are perked up high, inviting rough handling. He unzips his fly and as urgently as possible her knickers are pushed to one side. He's not even seen the cunt he's about to fuck, he can only feel its juices and imagine it all plump and tight underneath the little skirt that she's hitching up to aid entry. She needs to cum as urgently as he does. With a massive sigh from both of them he finally shoves that massive, rock-hard cock deep inside her. Passionate eye contact happens naturally as he begins to fuck her. He can feel she's close to cumming so he fucks her slower than what she's hoping for. In one hand he's got the back of the thigh of the leg he's holding up, and the other is pressed against the wall, meaning he can fuck her slowly but with force.

She knows the game he's playing. 'Fuck this, just fuck me. Please... please... I need you to fuck me fast.'

A sadistic smile can't help but appear on his face. He remains silent. He allows her one extra deep, quick thrust that makes her call out. Now she's broken eye contact and her face is held up to the sky, eyes screwed shut, mouth open. She's on the verge of cumming.

Without saying anything, he hitches up her other leg and carries her to the car bonnet. He plonks her down heavily on the bonnet and withdraws while he turns her around. Within a second he's back inside her, this time with her gorgeous rounded ass in perfect view. Her legs are straight and spread, making her ass appear even more hot. He resists biting it but instead slaps it lightly. He then grabs her hips and impales her fully on him. No messing around now, he wants to cum frantically inside her. He pounds that gorgeous ass right up to his balls savagely and without care. After five or six deep thrusts she screams out, her legs jerk, her arms flail and hands slap down heavily on the paintwork of the car. A second later her body's shuddering and her pussy is contracting tightly around his fucking dick. This does it for him and he cums so fucking hard he nearly blacks out. He cries out too and allows his body to jerk naturally with the flow of the cum, as she is. He pulls out and one last pulse of cum squirts onto the outside of her sopping wet cunt, onto the lips and the pink, steaming hotness. She's still wearing her skirt and it's still partially covering her ass. Taking in the sight makes his penis and body jerk one last time before he's totally spent. He's totally exhausted from the pleasure and she too hasn't moved from the bonnet. With a 'Whoaw!' he eventually pulls out and she stands up straight to face him. Her face is flushed and satisfied and she says: 'you see, that doesn't count of cheating because it's done and over with now, so we can move on and view each other as just friends again!'

She giggles quickly and plants a kiss on his cheek as if to prove her point, soothes down her skirt and says happily, 'come on, let's get back in the car.'

'Okay,' he replies as he wipes the swet from his brow.

But he still hasn't tasted that sweet pussy with his lips. He still hasn't seen her naked...

Her fantasy is quite different, but none the less explosive for her. She cums regularly over this:

So they're on their way to a friend's apartment. The friend lives on the fourth floor and for some innocent reason they're the last ones out of the car and to get their shit together in the carpark below...

'Oh, meet us up there,' our partners say in a stress. Maybe it's raining or something. Sexual tension is the furthest thing from our minds. For some reason we can't take the stairs so we have to take the lift, that I'm a bit scared of because it's obviously been cheaply built and the lights don't work in it.

'Oh, fucking hell we're going to have to take the lift,' I notice as we get to the closed off stairs. I press the button for the lift and say:

'I hate this lift. Not even the bloody lights work.'

'You're joking?' you reply, pissed off over all the stress that had just occurred trying to get here and now a little uncertain yourself about the safety of the lift.

The lift pings open and sure enough the bloody lights are still out. The last time I had to get in this lift they were out then and I didn't like the message it gave me about the lift's maintenance schedule... or lack of.

We get in, the doors shut and I press for the fourth floor.

By floor two neither of us has spoken but I'm too concentrated on the wanting-to-get-out-of-the-dodgy-lift feeling to pay too much attention to our ever suppressed sexual tension. Within an instant of that; I'm thinking 'if ever there was NOT a person to be in a dark place with it's this man, because he's my close friend... and my close friend's boyfriend... and my boyfriend's close friend... but I've got one hell of a crush on him. Dangerous. Not good, not good... one more floor to go...'

For once the feeling's not enjoyable because I'm not the sort of person who ever crosses that line. But instead of the doors pinging open and us both letting out a sign of relief and simply adding it to the list of unsaid things... the unthinkable happens.

The fucking lift jams to a stop with a terrifying screech of cogs.

Now, I'm not usually the sort of person that freaks out. I'm no drama queen, I'm calm and collected... but this particular liftscaredme. It felt flimsy to me and had been built in one of those new apartment blocks that were thrown up during the recent housing boom and are all about profit. So I immediately freaked out. We were in the dark in a lift I hated, and I was just waiting for it to plummet to the bottom any second. 'No, no, no, no,' I was repeating in a panic. 'This can't be happening! It's going to fall!' Another thought suddenly occurs to me: 'Don't move a muscle,' I instruct manically gripping his arm, thinking if we move, it might snap that final thread we were hanging on by.

'Calm down! It's not going to fall! When lifts break down it's to do with the cogs needing oiling... nothing to do with the massive thick wires that it pulleys on.'

He's so convincing immediately I've eased.

'Really? I though they were all connected somehow?' I ask, searching for further reassurance; wanting the reassurance to come (because not freaking out feels better than freaking out).

'I swear to God, we're safe,' he says forcefully yet gently.

I ungrip his arm and then let go of it completely.

'I'll just call those guys and get them to ring the lift mechanic.'

'Oo, good idea,' I reply, immediately bending down to the floor to search for my mobile in the dark.

'No signal,' he says from behind me. 'See've yours will work. It'll have a button in here too... oh, here it is,' you press the help button (the only thing to be lit up red behind the edges of the stainless steel along with the floor numbers and indicator) and it pings a computer ping once but that's it. We stand and stare at it for a long while after we've established that my mobile's got no signal either, and then begin to shout for help.

After we've been calling for help for five minutes and discussing the possibility that the help button's maybe like a pager – so we just have to sit there and wait to be rescued – we sit down heavily next to each other on the back wall, facing the doors. We talk about general things to do with being stuck in the lift and how long it will take for our friends and partners to realise that we haven't been up and realise then call for help themselves... and then there's a silence. In that silence the whole mood changes. Now's the chance to have a little private chat about all this dangerous flirting and how it's not right. I've got so much to say, so many ways of broaching it, and I'm certain he's got a lot to say too and I want to listen... but at the same time I'm not saying a thing because I really, really enjoy this charged, secret, sexual energy. I can't help it and I don't think he can either. I don't think either of us feel comfortable with it and neither of us would dare say something just in case we were totally wrong and it'd be deathly embarrassing. So instead we just sit there in total silence. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife, but in the sort of way that the second the knife begins to cut I would have a shuddering orgasm and so would he. Not in a bad way, but in a very, very dangerous way. The excitement's unbearable and for a second I think I'm going to start laughing, but he thankfully snaps me out of it by saying:

'Why don't we open that wine that's in the bag? Might as well, while we're stuck here?' He says it in a really happyplease say yessort of way and I'm over the moon about the suggestion and laugh:

'Now that's an idea!'

Back to general chatter but now more relaxed, as we're passing the bottle to and from each other. Now we're having a laugh. After the bottle's finished we're having more than a laugh, we're flirting outrageously. I'm leaning forward and touching arm affectionately, he bats it away slowly.... Stuff like that. I'm wanting to touch him and he's wanting to touch me but we do so in a manner that is playful. By this point, I'm enjoying myself too much to think about life outside of this pitch black lift and I'm feeling good.

Somehow the subject slyly comes around to sex. Did I start it? Did he? Was it both of us?

'You see, I like s&m sort of films,' I was replying. 'so not out-and-out porn gets me off as much as, say, Secretary does. I love to get off on nothing actually happening at all. It's that whole being-utterly-dominated thing. I'm dying to cum but thatachingof not being filled is constantly adding to my pre-orgasmic building feeling, so when I eventually do cum it's like a volcano going off! ...sort of thing.'

We both laugh because the whole conversation's based around some sort of truthful but falsely-jolly joke.

There was a slight pause before his very serious reply came in the words of: 'Is that maybe a bit why we feel so excited around each other?'

It was so frank, so genuine and honest, that only complete honesty could come in response.

'Probably yes. But in a way the more it goes unspoken, the more serious it gets,' I reply, suddenly feeling a huge weight off my shoulders that the silence has finally been broken after all these years.

'But isn't speaking about it more serious than not speaking about it though? Isn't this crossing another line?' He asks, worried and serious.

'Maybe. I don't know,' I reply, equally as angst-ridden. 'Maybe not, maybe breaking the silence is breaking the tension. We don't even have to sit here and talk about how we feel because it's obvious we both feel the same, just that we've acknowledged it is maybe a good thing.'

There's a very comfortable yet very uncomfortable silence.

Finally he says: 'How long do you reckon it'll be before they come for us? I hope it's not long. It's a shame there's not another bottle of wine.'

'I know,' I say about the first bit and then suddenly it occurs to me there were two bottles in that bag. I don't mean to suddenly get more giddy but I jump up and say: 'there is more wine!' like an excited teenager.

As I'm rustling through bags he also springs back into life and says 'brilliant! Nice one!' again, a bit too laxy-daxy with covering the excitement that we could get even more pissed and flirty with each other. You know, just to pass the time.

So this time as we're drinking and having a crack it's a dead cert something's going to happen, but the question is: who'll have the balls to test the waters first? It sure as hell won't be me.

I'm waiting patiently throughout most of the bottle and the laughs for him to drop into seriousness again and talk me around into having sex with him (so I can tell myself I was pissed andI didsay it was a bad ideaafterwards, so I won't feel as guilty), but it doesn't come. The frequent silences are wrought with fighting emotions within the both of us, but it's all such a turn on I don'twantto cover it up with an 'aaanyway....'

The silences before long have taken over the importance of the conversation and we sit close; near enough each other to kiss. We sit looking away from each other in the pitch black dark, after one and a half bottles of wine and several years' worth of unexplored longing thrown into the mix.

Finally it's all too much for me and I have to stand up. I feel like my heart's going to explode, there's so much unspoken communicating going on. I take a deep sigh and he stands up too, doing the same. He walks over to the opposite corner from me and runs his hands through his hair. I begin to breathe very satisfyingly, half panicking and half having the time of my freakin' life. Suddenly I can tell he's looking at me and a moment later we take a step towards each other and embrace in the middle of the lift's floor for a movie snog! Oh God I'm fucking LOVING THIS! But 'oh no, no, no...we CAN'T,' I suddenly realise, pulling away from him and shaking my head, in turmoil. Without saying a word or making a sound I feel him step behind me and place his big, manly palm over my mouth. Immediately I'm wet. While keeping me willingly gagged with one hand, with the other he's running it up my torso – under my sexy low top – and then onto my breast. I groan into his palm as he does this but he orders 'Shhh,' into my ear. I do so. I have to do exactly as he says. Iwantto do exactly what he says, and if he gets it right... I'll have the most powerful orgasm of my life within minutes. His fingers leave my breast wanting more and lightly brushes over the other breast that cries out to be touched. But perfectly he's moving southwards towards my jeans.

'I'm going to ungag you for a moment. Do you promise me you won't scream?' he whispers.

I nod vigorously. My pussy is absolutely soaking. I just want him to touch it, to dive into it, to rip me right fucking open... so I can relieve this unbearably pleasurable mounting feeling of an explosive orgasm taking over my body upon the very next touch. He reaches around to the front of me (from where he's stood around the back) and unbuckles my belt with ease. I can hear his breathing as he's leaning his head and neck over my shoulder; it's as turned-on as my own. When the jeans are around my ankles, the hand over my mouth is reapplied. I'm stood there in just my tight top and my little cotton panties, with this dominant male holding me against his fully-clothed massive erection; not letting me have it. I NEED to be touched. His fingers touch the skin on my thigh and all my nerve endings jump as if being electrocuted.