I Don't Like Liars

"Sure." He was acting nonchalant, but I could tell he was as jazzed as I was. I thought I could smell his lust. I hoped he could smell mine. "Do your worst, Tara." I winked at him, then hit SEND with a decisive tap of my thumb, no more hesitation. Total confidence. And then I sat back, legs crossed, watching him through half-lidded eyes as his phone chimed.

I hadn't even considered sending my raunchiest stuff. A lady has to keep some secrets. But what I did text him was more than daring enough, a shot of myself standing against the doorjamb of my closet at the old apartment, completely naked but for a set of thigh-highs and a challenging smirk. I watched him closely as his eyes riveted themselves to his phone screen, then flickered up and down. Up and down, again, like a metronome. A third time, widening a little, greedy. I'd looked great that day, my body all toned. Firm. I'd had a nice tan, too, and I'd been just about to fuck the guy taking the photo.

That's why I liked that picture. I thought I could feel my own sexuality coming through the pixels.

I cleared my throat. "Well?"

He raised his eyes to mine. "This is amazing."

"The photographer was talented." I glowed inside.

"It's not the photographer I'm talking about." He licked his lips unconsciously, the phone still shining up into his face. "It's amazing. I'm looking at you, like, nude, and yet you're right here. Clothed."

"Well?" I faked a yawn. "You asked for a pic to get you hard. I'm just following orders." I raised my foot up onto the couch, nudging his. "Taking care of you."

"It's just weird," he murmured. His eyes dug past my clothes. "Now I know what's under there."

"You're welcome," I preened. I stared at his crotch. "Is it working?"

He breathed a long, ragged inhale. "I mean. You're gorgeous." He took in the pic again. "You could, like, duplicate it in your new closet?"

I let my eyes go wide, doe-like. "I'm not stripping for you!"

He smiled a little greedily. "You're the one that said she wanted to see me. Hard." He gave an elaborate shrug. "Do you really? Or were you just talking a big game?"

"Shit!" My mouth fell open. "Is this a challenge, Aaron? You'll show me yours if I show you mine?" I giggled. "What's next, spin the bottle?"

"Seven minutes in heaven?" he laughed.

"You wouldn't last three," I promised, but I was drenched, and I sensed he was hard as hell. Now. Now was the time, and I reminded myself that his dumbass wife never should have snickered at me. Fucking lying whore. "Show me your cock," I demanded, the word rolling crudely from my hoarse throat.

He was looking wild, too, a flush at his cheekbones. "You sure, Tara?"

"Quit stalling. Let's settle this," I rasped. "Get your fucking pants down."

He was nodding while I said it, a strange smile creasing his face, but I didn't care about his face. His hands were already working at his fly as he planted his feet and surged up from the couch, standing right in front of me on my new tacky vinyl flooring so that I could take it all in as he exposed himself. My head buzzed sharply, everything else about the cold, drafty room forgotten, silent but for the sharp clean sound of his zipper heading downward.

And when I did look up? Into the wildness of his face? It was like looking into a mirror.

Even as he pushed his jeans and underwear down off his waist, even as I saw the forgotten denim showing a dark, coiled pubic patch, then a strong thick root... even then, I wasn't necessarily thinking I'd fuck him. But here was a new man, married to my best friend, showing me his erection just because I wanted him to, and that was enough to send most of my blood to my clit and the rest to form a spreading flush from my chest to my forehead, my smile spreading across a flaming face.

His pants fell down, the penis behind them thick and pale, straining against the elastic of his boxers until, with virile strength, it popped straight out in front of him, pointing straight at me. I know I gasped, not even noticing that he'd pulled his shirt up to show me more, so obsessed was I with the fleshy stalk he was showing me. I had to clear my throat to get a grunted syllable out. "Whoah."

He let a pause grow as both of us stared at his erection, watching it quiver in the chilly apartment. "Is that a compliment?" His voice rose, loud and proud, clearly pleased at whatever reaction I was giving him.

"It's a... whoah." I had no idea what to say, my broad grin probably telling him everything he needed to know. He was definitely longer than average, thick and weighty, his veins and ridges squiggling away from me under his moist-velvet flesh above a pair of tempting, healthy balls. "I love it," I admitted, gushing into my underwear. I had to clear my throat again, my libido turning me all husky. "And you say I'm dangerous."

He was preening now, whatever edginess he was feeling sunk deep under a swelling veneer of male ego. Every guy loves it when a woman likes his dick, and I knew this man had to have gotten a lot of that kind of attention over the years. "You are dangerous," he nodded. "And this? The two of us like this? This takes the danger to a whole new level, don't it?"

"Not as dangerous as it's going to get," I muttered, for my brain was rapidly making decisions I was going to like. And I'd make sure he liked them too. I raised my eyes off his cock and up to his face. "Hey. Want to see mine?"

He smirked, confident now. "See your what? If you've got a dick down there, I admit I'll be pretty fucking surprised."

"Don't be a shithead." He hadn't said no. He'd flirted, so that was a yes, and not that it mattered anyway. I was going to get bottomless for him, here and now, gushing all over my couch, and nothing was going to stop that. I was already picking at my drawstring, dragging my leggings down over my hips, my thighs, making sure my underwear went along for the ride. It had been a long time since I'd so badly wanted to show off for a man, and my brain lit up as Aaron's eyes slid down to where I was peeling my wet thong off my swollen slit. "Feast your eyes, big boy," I gloated, savoring his wide eyes, his dropped jaw.

His ready cock.

My Ugg sailed across the room, left toes clawing my tights over my right foot so that I could spread for him, and then all of a sudden there I was, on display, showing him my whole world as he was showing me his. I knew I'd need to clear my throat for a third time if I wanted to say anything else, so I just kept my mouth shut and let my body do the talking. He stared, greedy, as my fingers brushed slowly along the slick corrugations of my pussy. He nodded. "They're feasting, Tara." He sounded high-pitched, almost strangled, his lust as obvious in his throat as it was in the glitter of precum at the tip of that darkened penis of his.

I choked out a reply. "Good." Fuck, this was sexy. Aaron was a good looking man with a tasty dick, but I knew that was only part of this. I'd have been firecracker-ready anyhow, just because of the situation. The bleak winter apartment. The long, eager flirtation. The smell of Kelly's hair still on the air. My lip curled cruelly. "So. Are we doing this, dude?" I was more than ready, and so was he, so my brain had done the math rapidly.

His eyes narrowed for the first time since I'd stripped. "Doing what?"

"Well," I sang, my fingers never stopping over my snatch, "I'm going to cum. I'd love it if you'll join me."

He swallowed. "Fuck."

"I mean, I know you're going to think of me next time you're hard. And I'm going to think of you next time I'm wet. I'll be seeing that dick when I rub this little clitty of mine, Aaron." Reckless, I gave myself a good hard smack, my vagina scarlet by then. "You'll be remembering this view next time you cum. I know it. So?" I was almost snarling now, on the verge of plunging my fingers straight inside me. "Why don't we just... go for it?"

He had taken hold of his meat, wrapping his fingers around its trembling length, but he still just stood there. "I can think of one very good reason," he managed, glancing over his shoulder at the door his wife had passed out of not five minutes before. "Kelly."

I nodded. "Yeah. But we've ignored that reason up to now. Why stop?" I stared hard at him then, hearing a low moan make its way out of my mouth as I stuck three fingers right up inside myself while he watched. "Let's keep on ignoring that reason. Hmm?" We both heard a low, lewd squelching noise, my pussy a soup bowl now. My couch, I realized distantly, would never be the same. "Cum with me, big boy."

"Jesus." It was a low, sighed curse, the sound of Aaron surrendering to himself, to me, that hand on his dick starting to stroke with firm, even rhythm. I watched, grinning, as his thumb snaked out to gather up that pearly little drop of precum, spreading it around, and I'd never felt so thirsty in my life.

I watched with interest as Aaron masturbated. There's something special about a man getting himself off, giving himself what he knew he needed. It's the kind of thing a woman could learn from, I'd found, so that later? If I ever got the chance to replace his hand with my mouth? I'd know what he liked. He focused on the thickest part of his dick, just down beneath the head, squeezing hard while his other hand crept underneath himself to grasp his nuts. I moaned again, my fingers rigid like his dick, plunging in and out of me as my other hand shot up underneath my sweatshirt, flicking crazily at my nipples.

We locked eyes once, at the beginning, both of us showing that startled look you sometimes see in an unexpected fuck-partner; at least, I assumed both of us looked like that. He sure did, and I definitely felt that way: excited, reckless, totally given over to the throb of my clit.

And then my eyes snapped back down to his cock. That cock that Kelly had bragged about, her delusion that he had an elephant-trunk dick... he didn't. But it was big enough, and thick enough, and sexy enough to take my breath and juice my cunt and leave me squirming on the couch with my leggings trailing off my left leg, my hand jamming itself into my slit as my head nodded desperately at him. "Cum with me," I gasped, low and urgent. "Tell me when." I knew it could happen anytime, in a heartbeat, with just one touch on my hyperactive clit.

For his part, Aaron was jerking himself furiously, his eyes riveted to where the muscles of my inner thighs strained, pointing the way straight into my engorged pussy. I knew what he was seeing, taut legs and smooth skin, sweat and froth and the crimson wisp of the pubes I liked to leave down there, trimmed but suggestive, pointing the way to where I wanted him to go. His balls swayed in his palm, his other hand choking hard at the underside of his shaft, just below the sweet, tempting sweep of his cockhead. He croaked out an answer, quick and biting. "Whenever you want, Tara."

"I want it now," I demanded, my voice cracking at the end, and I was staring at the slit in the head of his dick as I pressed my thumb deliberately against my clit and pushed my fingers as far inside as they could go. I squealed, my hips humping desperately downward against my hand while he sped up, his fist a blur across his long, eager cock, thighs tensing where he stood. "Fuck. Now!"

He nodded like a robot, concentrating on me while he milked his tip, and when he at last let out his pent-up breath I knew it was coming, his orgasm and mine, washing over us in desperate waves. I felt it, as I usually did, like a tingling numbness all through my body, linked to a wonderful sense of timelessness and dissociation in my mind, like I was watching myself writhe in wild rapture. But this time I was watching Aaron too, his whole body tense, both of us groaning low as he pulled his load from those powerful balls of his.

And I stared the whole time. Thirsty.

The first spurt emerged startled, a milky chain of pearls hanging in the air, and they seemed to fall in slow motion toward the floor; they still hadn't hit before the second rope flew out, much stronger than the first, a solid milky arc flying proudly through my living room in a splendid silky curve, the thick semen making a hollow splat as it struck my floor. But by then he was spewing his third blast, then his fourth, his hand erratic now as he hosed himself all over the room, all over me, some of his wayward droplets landing carelessly on my clenched foot where it dug itself into the couch.

I loved it.

He stroked himself through it, eyes closed and mouth in a wide, soundless O, his dick emptying itself all over the place. I was busy in a puddle of my own, my climax buffeting me as his overwhelmed him, both of us lost and eager and so, so gloriously spent. My feeling returned slowly, painfully, the numbness chased away by my panting breaths as I finally pulled my sodden fingers out of my vagina and licked them absently clean. When I looked up, Aaron was watching me do it with a dreamy smile. I winked, matching the smile, sharing the euphoria. "See?" I sighed, my breathing at last calming down. "Now we're friends, Aaron."

"Fuck." He groped behind him with a hand clammy from his scrotum, finding the edge of the couch and collapsing there with his slick cock still a tower rising from his pubes. "That was... well." He met my eyes. "Wild."

"Totally." I wanted to be held now, naked and close, but not by him. I didn't feel that way about him yet. "Just friends. Passing the time. Like heading outside the restaurant and sharing a cigarette."

He laughed, his fingers pinching his root. "This ain't a cigarette, Tara," he smiled, waving his dick around. His cum frosted the head, and I longed to lean over and lick it up. But, again, I didn't know him well enough.

Yet.

"No," I guffawed, "that thing's more like a cigar."

"That's not what I meant." He still held his penis, fingers tapping meditatively along the shaft, but his face had grown more serious. "Mutual masturbation with a new friend is not the same thing as sharing a cigarette with a new friend."

I leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling. Lassitude. Heated joy, like I was melting into my couch. "No," I agreed, "it's better."

Aaron cocked his head, frowning, looking at my soupy snatch. "You don't think this is a big deal?"

I giggled. "Is it?" I loved sprawling out like this, heedless of my nakedness. Getting to know him. "I think we had fun and got happy. Other than that?" I shrugged. "This doesn't mean much. We're not boyfriend/girlfriend. We're not in love. We're just enjoying our time together, like friends do." On impulse, I scooped a healthy wad of my pussy-juice out of my reddened slit and held it out to him. "Want any?" He shook his head, smiling, and I rolled my eyes. "Dude. If you don't want to taste my pussy, trust me: our friendship will never be all it can be." I sucked my fingers again, then reached down my bare leg and swept his cum off my skin. I licked that off too, tasting salt and starch. "See? I'll taste yours, you taste mine."

He shook his head, incredulous. "You're saying we can't be real friends unless I eat you out?"

"Why not?" This was still flirting to me. Still exciting. And, now, a lot more fun. "A lot of my guy friends go down, and they usually find me very happy when they do." I grinned, my body still smouldering. I wanted more. I wondered, vaguely, whether he'd fuck me now, and I didn't think I'd stop him if he wanted to. I gave him a playful wink. "You want your friend to be happy, don't you big boy?"

His cock had lost some of its fire now, but it still lay thick and brutal in a gentle curve on his thigh. I wondered what it tasted like. "Yeah," he confessed, his voice quiet but calm.

My clit throbbed once more, almost impossibly. Maybe there was more fun to be had here. "Well?" I took my hand off my body and sat there, open, ready. "I'm not going to say no if you want to taste the good stuff," I taunted. A dark corner of my mind opened up. "I know Kelly isn't into it." This was true: we'd talked about it often. She'd had an ex in high school who'd made her self-conscious about her taste. "So? Live a little. I'm game if you are."

He raised his eyebrows at my mention of Kelly. "Dangerous," he muttered again.

"You have no idea," I challenged. I was nothing but long, muscular legs funneling into a vibrant, wet pussy, and I knew I was probably irresistible. "Come on." My voice had gone husky once again. "Or? It's getting cold. If you're not going to eat me out, let me know so I can get dressed."

"Fuck," he sighed, a rueful whisper, but I giggled as I realized he'd made up his mind: in one convulsive movement, he ripped his shirt off and sent it flying against my window. Good. He didn't want his clothes to smell like my pussy. He waited on the couch a moment more, his body a bare sweep of skin from his head to where his jeans and boxers still lay crumpled above his ankles, and I had a moment to admire how sexy he was with that sturdy dick sprouting out of his body before he rose off the couch, shuffled down toward me, and sank to his knees amid his cum on the floor.

We made eye contact again, appraising and a little calculating, both of us aware this had spiralled way out of control despite my claim that all this meant nothing; then his hands were curling around my thighs and he was diving toward the pussy I was giving him so freely, and then suddenly his tongue was reaching for my scarlet slit and it was on.

I've been devoured by some of the best, and Aaron Raff wasn't that. But he was willing, and excited, and we were being naughty and doing things we most definitely shouldn't have been doing; and so I felt a spark the moment his lips met my flesh, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on me. "Ohh," I sighed, eyes fluttering, his beard already scratching at my skin. I'd be red down there for days, I reflected: days in which I'd remember Kelly's man nibbling on my clit, so I clamped my thighs around his head and welcomed the scratches, holding him fiercely to me as he pushed his tongue into the soupy mess I'd made of my hole.

"Yes." I clamped my ankles behind his head, shoved my hand back up under my bra, and settled in to ride his face. "Good boy," I gushed, both literally and figuratively, enjoying his effort as I sent my other hand lazily around the back of his head, pulling him to me. I fed myself to him willingly, unashamed, letting him explore my taste and smell. His hands roved constantly, off my thighs to my hips, then around to my ass, then underneath, along my taint to the bottom of my slit. And his mouth followed his fingers, licking wherever he could reach. I didn't mind. He could have it all, I'd long since decided, so I abandoned myself to him and waited to let him do his thing. "That feels so good, honey," I purred.

I'd let him stay down there as long as he wanted, but I knew already I wasn't going to get off again. That wasn't the point. The point was us, the evolution of whatever it was we were doing, and whatever it was we were going to do. I had no clue what the future held. But then, I'd been just as clueless when I'd ushered Kelly out and turned off the stove, and look at us now! So I let him play, using my body, getting whatever he wanted out of it.

Because he'd already given me one of the most powerful orgasms I'd had lately.

At last he moved, freeing himself from my legs, surprising me with soft, chained kisses up through the wispy pubes I'd left. "What are you doing?" I asked, smiling softly.

"Kissing," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I chuckled at him, running a finger through his harsh beard. "I don't think I made you cum." He sounded troubled about that, even embarrassed. Definitely awkward. Poor guy.