Summer Afternoon

“Fuck me.”

I was thrusting away before the words left her mouth.

I used the arms of the lounge chair for leverage and I began to thrust my hips up and down, my cock in and out. Everything else, save that rhythmic motion, faded away. I didn’t care that it was the middle of the afternoon and I was in Liz’s backyard, sliding my cock deep into her pussy while her parents sat inside. I didn’t care that the faster I rammed myself into Liz, the louder she moaned. I didn’t care about anything except her twat. And her nipples. I licked her nipples as I slid in and out of her. Remember her earlier preferences, I bit down hard on one as I completed an upstroke into her cunt. Sensing the effect this had on her (from both the moans and the way her cunt tightened around my shaft), I attempted to repeat it. And often. My concentration, on the pumping and the biting, was helping both to propel Liz towards her own orgasm and to delay my own. However, Liz realized that the precarious nature of our situation (fucking wildly in her backyard) did not lend itself to delay in any form.

Liz grabbed my hair and lifted my head off her breasts, pulling it back. So rough was Liz, and so lost in the moment, that I must have pulled a muscle. But what the fuck did I care. I was sliding my dick in and out of her as her breasts heaved beneath me with her rapid in and out breaths. Breaths almost in time with my thrusts into her cunt. As she held my head back, Liz began to lick my neck, starting from my collarbone and tracing lines up to my ears where she stopped to briefly chew before starting all over again. The roughness of her behavior, the constant pressure exerted on my cock by her twat, her tongue and teeth on my ears…it was all too much. With a grunt and one last thrust, I came deep inside Liz. Taking the Lord’s name in vain, I started to slow my pace when I heard Liz,

“Almost…”

Knowing a gentleman’s duty when I hear it, I managed to keep thrusting into her. My cum was leaking out of her twat, my still-thrusting cock churning it, leaving us both soaked in my juice. It was almost painful to continue fucking Liz, my cock now ultra-sensitive. But I did. Somehow I managed to keep thrusting, and to stay hard. And I was rewarded for my efforts (as was she) when she bit down hard on my shoulder, partly out of pleasure and partly to stifle her own screams. I felt something dribble down my back. I didn’t know if it was saliva or blood, and I didn’t care. The whole thing, Liz’s teeth on my shoulder, her pussy contracting furiously around my shaft, her back arched in orgasm pushing her tits tight into my chest…I almost came again. Would have, if I’d had anything left.

After some time, I couldn’t say how long, Liz let go her bite on my shoulder. I slipped my now-soft cock from her cunt. We were both of us soaked with each other’s juices. We lay there in each other’s arms for a minute or two, enjoying the afterglow. Enjoying the quickly fading remnants of our passion, our lust, our joy and abandonment of reason. I looked her at Liz, and kissed her gently on the lips. Soft, sweet, gentle. We smiled at each other.

I think that was the last time we were happy together.

After the initial afterglow had faded, reason and logic returned. As they always do. We quickly separated and rearranged our clothes. We both desperately needed showers, so we said brief goodbyes and parted. Liz went inside and I hoped in my car, took off towards home.

Things were never the same between Liz and I after that. We tried to talk about it, we tried to explain what had happened, why it had happened. What to do now. But we had no answers. And sometimes, that’s fine. You can get past something without knowing the exact answer. But not this time. Not for us. We were lost and uncomfortable with each other. All the ease and relaxation which had defined our friendship was gone in light of what we had done. It was a pink elephant in the living room, and we couldn’t get it to leave.

Liz started college that fall. We didn’t talk much after that. It’s been two years since that summer. Since the time when we had managed, briefly, to convince ourselves that we could have it all. The friendship and the sex. I know better now. I lost a friend because of sex. We had gone somewhere we couldn’t come back from. I still have hope, though. That some day we’ll be able to move forward. Move beyond that summer afternoon. Time heals all wounds, right? I hope so. I hope so.