Outsourced Ch. 02

She stops for a moment, a challenge in her eyes, giving me an opportunity to flee. I don't, and after a heartbeat she eases herself into my arms, moulding herself into me. I feel her hands at the small of my back, fingertips brushing the slope of my buttocks. My own hands alight on the bare skin of her back and feel the warmth of her. Her eyes are closed and she moves her head slightly, not needing sight to find my lips. It's a chaste kiss, the merest brushing of lips, the opening gambit in a game of which she's an expert.

It takes me a moment to respond and then I surprise myself by kissing her in return, as though it's the most natural thing in the world for me.

Naima's fingers move to the top button of my blouse and I feel her forearms against my breasts. I pull her to me a little more tightly and don't know whether it's to arrest her movements or to feel the pressure of her against me.

In my confusion she completes the task and pushes the garment up and over my shoulders. I have no choice but to lower my arms and allow it to drop to the ground. My bra quickly follows.

I see Rick over Naima's shoulder. The look of stunned disbelief on his face mirrors the disorientation that roils in my gut.

Naima turns me in her arms and I feel her breasts press against my back. Despite having been well-endowed for most of my life, I can suddenly appreciate the fascination they hold. The feeling of her yielding flesh against my skin is electric. She cups my breasts and then brushes her fingertips spider-light against my nipples and then down until they slip between my lower stomach and the top of my slacks. I contract my muscles to give her more room and her hands slide further down.

I undo the button and push my slacks over my hips.

I'm wet, I realize, as Naima cups my mound as if to protect it.

She sways against me and nudges me into a half turn until I'm facing Rick again. I bow my head and hide my face behind a cascade of hair. I don't want him to see me. Or rather, I don't want to see him watching me. I don't want Naima to stop either.

She presses her lips to the nape of my neck, kissing me lightly. One of her hands caresses a breast, kneading a nipple that feels as though it can cut glass. The other insinuates itself into my panties. It descends over my pubic bone, her hand smooth and warm, and at length it finds my clitoris. I gasp as a jolt of electricity charges through my core. For an instant, my knees buckle.

Her finger digs a furrow through my moist lips and returns slowly to their apex. She rubs lightly, tracing the contours of my clit, light and teasing, her finger slick with my own juices. I'm surrounded by warmth, by Naima's body pressed against my back and the heat that now blossoms between my legs.

A sound comes to my attention, and I realize that I have whimpered.

Maybe this was a mistake.

I feel my heart hammering beneath Naima's hand and whimper again. It sounds pathetic but I'm past caring.

I'm a little disappointed when she stops. She takes my hand and leads me to the bed. I risk another glance at Rick. I meet his saucer-round eyes for an instant and then lie down.

Naima climbs onto me. She's light and compact, completely unlike Rick. I feel her thigh between my legs, its smoothness pressing against me as it slides up and over until she straddles my waist.

What's she going to do? I wonder.

Don't think, I tell myself.

But.

Shh. Go with it...

Naima kisses me again. Her breasts press against mine, softness against softness. I can feel her heartbeat and then think that it might be mine. Maybe it's ours together, synchronized. She slides up against my body and allows her nipple to brush my lips. She repeats the process with the other breast and I this time I catch it in my mouth. I draw it in and run my tongue over its puckered surface and a muted purr escapes her throat. Her purr is much sexier than my whimper. It's an arousing sound. I suck and nibble and remember how much I used to like having this very thing done to me. It feels like a hundred years ago.

My other hand runs down the smoothness of her back to the silken fullness of her buttocks.

God, she feels good, I think.

Naima disengages her nipple from my mouth and shimmies down my body, her tongue running a path down the valley between my breasts. Then she's lying beside me, her head perched in her hand, the fingernails of the other stroking my breast, causing the skin to erupt in a flurry of goose pimples. Soon the flat of her hand inches ever so slowly down the well of my abdomen. She lowers her face and takes a nipple into her mouth. Exquisite jolts of pleasure thrum to my core. I almost don't notice her hand cupping my sex, a slender finger nestled in the folds of my labia and pressing against my clitoris and then insinuating itself into me.

She's a witch, I think. She's in league with the devil to make me acquiesce as I have.

At this moment, I would gladly sell my soul.

I open my legs to her.

Rick used to do this, I think, though without the lingering concentration of this woman who seems to know my feminine geography so well. Or perhaps I've just forgotten.

I scarcely notice that Naima has left my side and is now perched between my spread legs. I peer through my eyelashes in time to see her raven-black tresses descend on me. Then a hot, insistent warmth touches me, causing me to go rigid for a moment in recognition before I relax. Her fingers spread my lips, lifting them, and her agile tongue unleashes an explosion of sensation. I whimper again, forgetting to purr, and clutch the bed sheets. Her finger presses up within me as her tongue dances on my clitoris.

My hands move to her head. My fingers wind themselves into her hair. If I could draw this woman within me, I would.

My body quivers uncontrollably and I hear sounds that I barely recognize as human issuing from my mouth.

I forget that Rick is watching and that the agent of my unravelling is a woman. I forget that it's been too long since I've felt these things. The growing promise of release pushes such thoughts away. There's little more than the contracting universe of sensation between my legs. I'm caught in it.

Every flick of her tongue pushes me closer to the abyss. She moans as though this could be as good for her as it is for me or that I'm the tastiest dish on the buffet. Her sounds encourage me and sweep me away and soon I provide a vocal counterpoint. I'm sure hearing it later would make me cringe, but it becomes a fitting soundtrack to the journey that we're on.

"Right there," I moan.

Naima purrs.

"Oh! Oh, yeah."

I hear wet noises.

"Come for me," she whispers, and I can feel her hot breath on my pussy.

As though on command, I'm pushed over the edge. I pull her to me, not thinking that I might suffocate her by doing so. Her tongue plunges into me and laps me up. Muscles that I'd forgotten I'd had quiver within me. My back arches and wave upon wave wash me away.

***

I lie exhausted on the bed, limp and ragged.

Through barely open eyes I see that Naima has joined Rick in the corner of the room and has him in her mouth. She murmurs something to him and he smiles. I watch the play of her hands and mouth on his glistening length.

She seems to be enjoying herself. I make a mental note that I should revisit the act as well.

At length Naima returns to the bed with Rick in tow.

"You watched us," she says to Rick. "Now let me watch you."

Naima is directing things now, I note absently. Or perhaps she always has. At this moment, I can't say that I care, but there's an uneasiness to the thought that I promise myself I'll examine later.

I want him, I realize. Within me. Somehow after the novelty of Naima, I desire nothing more than the familiarity of Rick. He climbs onto the bed and I spread my legs for him, my fingers framing my pussy like parentheses.

He places his hands beneath my breasts and lowers himself until his cock brushes against my pussy like a promise. Our eyes meet. I can't quite read his expression and can't tell if my eyes are communicating that I want him more than ever. He enters me slowly and I trace his deliberate advance within me, watching him all the while. It's a familiar sensation, but one imbued with newness. It seems impossible now that I could have shunned him. He fills me and I thrill at the sensation.

Naima kneels at my head and fondles my breasts. The two sets of stimuli battle for my attention.

Rick's pelvis grinds against mine. I'm full with him and he slowly begins to withdraw. I'd like nothing more than to have him for just a moment longer, to possess him fully, but I know that I can't.

I remember Naima then. A vague thought enters my head, punctuated by a sudden thrust as Rick plows into me. I set my hands behind her and urge her to her feet and then forward until she straddles my head, her glistening folds inches from my face. I tilt my head back and she lowers herself. My outthrust tongue burrows into the velvet softness of her sex and I taste her. It's heady and exotic, this taste Naima.

Naima leans forward and places her hands on me, on either side of Rick's thrusting cock. Rick's angle changes too. I can imagine Rick and Naima kissing now and the three of us forming a tenuous triangle, each apex pointedly complex.

The pitch of Naima's breathing soon matches my own. I've found her clit and lap at it hungrily. My face is wet with saliva and Naima's juices. I must be doing something right because I feel involuntary tremors rippling through her body as her hips swivel above me. I know that Rick is doing something right too for there's a tingling moltenness that spreads through my core.

Naima grasps my ankles and spreads them up and apart, changing the angle so that Rick's thrusts brush against my g-spot.

I don't whimper now. I moan as I never have before.

We form a thrusting, panting, sweating unit. A beast with three backs?

I don't know who comes first or even whether all of us do. All I know is that the sum of sensation quickly pushes me over the edge once again. Through the haze that is my release, I feel Rick's movements grow erratic and more emphatic as my cunt clenches him. I open myself to him as I've never done before and moan into the wetness at my mouth.

***

It's over and I'm beyond spent, beyond even anticipating the thoughts that will assail me in the morning. I feel Rick's fluid leaking out of me and I'm beyond caring.

Dimly I hear the murmuring of voices and of clothes being found and donned.

The front door closes and Rick returns to the bedroom. I feel his weight on the bed as he occupies that familiar space next to me.

"That..." he begins.

"Shh," I say. "Tomorrow. Let's talk about it tomorrow."

I snuggle against him as I haven't done in ages and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. And soon I'm asleep.

***

I get up before Rick. Some habits die hard. I leave him snoring gently in bed and tiptoe out of the bedroom to the kitchen.

While the coffee aroma fills the kitchen, I take stock. If I thought that I'd be filled with self-recrimination for succumbing as I did, I'd be disappointed. Rather than shame or embarrassment or self-loathing, I am, if anything, curiously satisfied. And more than a little confused.

Outsourcing is addictive. It's the illusion that you're getting more for less, while the reality is that you're selling a piece of yourself. I wonder if I bought some back last night.

I hear Rick get up and go to the bathroom. He'll be a while, so I busy myself at the stove to prepare his breakfast. I don't know what to expect and the ignorance fills me with trepidation.

As I place and omelette on the table where he usually sits, he enters the kitchen and regards me with a combination of wonder and suspicion. Not about the fact that I've prepared breakfast for him, though perhaps that's a contributing factor, but about what went on the night before.

"About last night..." he begins.

I nod at him, encouraging him to finish.

"That was...." Words fail him again, but I know what he means. I'd been worried that he might see this as the new norm, a juvenile fantasy come to life, but his confusion and discomfort reassures me.

"Yes it was."

He smiles at me in relief, grateful that I feel what he thinks he feels, though I'm probably as confused as he is.

"Are you working today?" he asks.

"No."

His eyebrows rise.

"I thought we could do something together. Just the two of us. Talk. And whatever...."

He grins and my heart soars. "Talk and whatever sounds good."

He digs into his breakfast and I wonder where we're going.

***

Thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome!

--KT