First Kiss Ch. 01

He soaped her all over. When both his hands cupped her bottom and sex, she gave up. They were interlaced, making it impossible to break the hold on her crotch. The feeling of hands soaping between her cheeks, circling her asshole, between her lips, cupping her sex in his palm, defeated her.

She flung back her head into the spray, and groaned loudly. A fitful orgasm rocked her legs. It wasn't deep, it was like the shower, all over her body, like a rainstorm. His hands carried on playing with her, front and back. He was prolonging the orgasm with fingers probing her pussy, and her asshole.

Every time she thought it was over, he triggered it again.

"No more, please!" she cried out.

Both hands were flat, leaning all her weight against the tiled wall. She began to slide as her legs gave way. He held her up with a finger in her pussy, and another in her ass. As her hands slid down the wall, her ass was drawn upward.

She was only partially aware of the awkward position. She was on hands and feet, with her head in the corner of the shower stall. He slid a finger from her pussy, with another still holding onto her asshole. He replaced the finger with his cock, sliding into her easily. He began to fuck her steadily, while she moaned in time with every inward thrust. It took him a long time to cum, by which time she was nearly unconscious.

He carried her to the bed and dried her with a comforter. He threw that on the floor, and climbed into bed with her. With arms wrapped tightly about her, he fell asleep.

"Max! Max! Wake up!" Chloe whispered.

There was no need to keep quiet, as nobody was in the house. She felt guilty over what happened, as though they had committed a crime, and needed to be secretive. She watched him come-to from a deep sleep. The innocent boyish face brought on a feeling of affection toward him. However inappropriate the feeling, it was difficult to shake off.

"You've got to go!" she urgently insisted.

"Why?" he asked, while knuckling his eyes.

"Because, that's why!" she explained.

"That doesn't make sense. You don't really want me to go. I'll just go out to my friends, and brag about fucking a beautiful woman," he boldly stated.

"No! You can't. That is so bad. Please don't say that," she said, sounding more hurt than angry.

"You had better let me stay. We need to talk about what happened, and where we go from here," he said.

He sounded more caring and sensitive now. She wondered if he had said that terrible thing to shock her into letting him stay. Surely he couldn't mean it.

"Alright. You're right, we need to talk," she conceded.

It would be better to try and explain how this moment of madness affected her. It would be disastrous if anyone found out, though she dare not emphasise the point. Surely he could understand she was a married woman and a mother, so it had to be kept quiet. Maybe that line of reasoning should be avoided as well.

Why was it the woman had to take responsibility for every mistake. It was a big, bad mistake, and could get even worse if she didn't keep it secret. They wandered into the kitchen, while she tried to think through what to say.

He put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her onto a kitchen stool. She gave him a small smile when he asked if she took sugar. She watched him make a pot of coffee, looking into cupboards for what was needed, not bothering to ask her. He was independent and strong minded.

She again wondered if he had meant what he said, or was it a sop to keep her happy. Did he really visit Wendy just to see her? She looked good for her age, yet how could he see anything in a woman twice his age?

"Thanks," she smiled at him, and wrapped her hands around the warm mug.