Trespassing

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A story about the joys of being sneaky.
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Lori pulled the slick blade of a new razor down the inside of my thigh, making a clean, kissable path between drifts of foaming gel. Then she dipped the razor in a bowl of hot water, where clots of cream melted slowly away. She liked to let the razor hover a moment or two before baring more skin, and usually had a mischievous spark in her eyes as she planned her next angle of attack. She would hold my erection in one hand, to maneuver my cock out of the way whenever she shaved close to the root of my shaft, and then would giggle as I squirmed in anticipation of the sting to come. She rarely ever cut me, though, and if she did find a freckle of blood hiding under the gel, she would bend low and lick it off my skin with the pointed tip of her tongue.

Whenever we played out this ritual of laying on a big beach towel in the middle of the floor, shaving each other before or after a hard sweaty fuck, we would talk quietly about our favorite fantasies. Lori liked to spin out the details of a long daydream for me, to keep me hard as she little by little removed the down from my balls. The eye of my penis would weep silvery drops of precome, which would trickle down Lori's knuckles, making them as shiny as if they'd been dipped in sugar glaze. Sometimes, it was all I could do to keep from knocking over the water bowl and topping Lori then and there, in the middle of her breathy reverie about some nearly impossible tangle of bodies. Most of the time, though, I behaved myself, and let her denude my groin completely before I turned her over on her back to spread pink gel all over her swollen mons. That's when I had my chance to torture my lover in a loving way, and would tell her a story from the secret library I kept locked away in my head, memories and wishes I had only ever shared with her.

This night, as I ran a fresh razor down the curve of her belly, I looked down at the small tattoo that was drawn on Lori's left breast. She'd let an old boyfriend do it for practice, one summer years ago. The design was an ourboros in black ink, the snake a little fatter than usual, its mouth clearly vaginal as it swallowed up its phallic tail. Many nights after we'd made love, I would lay my head on Lori's shoulder, to put my eye close to the tattoo, so I could watch my finger trace the rolled-up snake round and round. She had told me once that the artist had come from a locksmithing family, that his father had taught all his children how to open almost any door, and that she'd picked up a few tricks here and there. She'd described a few of her adventures, going into abandoned warehouses for private orgies with a few select friends, and about the scare she'd had once when she and a partner had almost been caught naked with come flowing down their legs, after a noisy orgasm had echoed out into the street, alerting wary neighbors. I thought about all this as I cleared away the fading billows of froth from the borderland of Lori's sex, and as I watched her breasts rise and tremble with each indrawn breath. Taking a sip of wine to take the cotton out of my mouth, I began to tell her about the idea her tattoo artist boyfriend had inspired in me months before, an idea that had grown in my imagination to become a restless desire for an adventure of our own...

The next day, I had to finish up an illustration assignment, and so I left Lori asleep in bed as I walked over to the studio I kept above a bookstore downtown. I knew it was Lori's day off from her job at a local printmaking cooperative, so I thought I would try to wrap up my work early, then sneak back between the sheets for an afternoon of sex. But, when the clock chimed eleven in the bookstore owner's office under my feet, the phone rang and I picked it up to hear Lori giggle then whisper an address. Before I had a chance to say anything, she explained, "Meet me there as soon as you can," then hung up as I was reaching for a pen. I faxed my client, made a couple of quick notes in my record book, and locked up my office after I rescued a city map from the chaos of my desk drawer.

When I found the wiggly black line on the map that corresponded to the address Lori had given me, I saw that it was all the way across town, in a wealthy neighborhood tucked into a bend of the river. I walked home to fetch my truck, then drove out along Poplar, which travels west from the middle of Courthouse Square to the ragged edge of the county. After a while, I spotted the mossy stone gate that marked the place where luxury cars could escape from the flow of common traffic. I felt slightly self-conscious in my aging Ford, until I noticed all the other beat-up old work vehicles with their beds full of lawn mowers and gas cans, all of them cruising the winding streets from one huge yard job to the next. I felt the mantle of borrowed camouflage settle around me then, making me feel like I might get lucky after all and avoid the attention of the idle rich as I invaded their enclave.

Counting the street numbers on brick-pile mailboxes and wrought-iron gates, I came at last to a giant mock-tudor mansion at the end of a shady cul-de-sac. There was a real estate sign posted on the shoulder of the road, with a board hung over the top announcing that the house was Sold. I looked in my rearview mirror and noticed that the angle of the dead end made the driveway entrance nearly invisible from neighboring houses. In fact, the lawns out here were all wide and deep enough, and so full of mature trees, that each home was more like an island unto itself than part of a bigger community. So I felt a little less nervous as I coasted down the arc of the driveway toward the carport I could see sticking out from the back of the house.

Lori's car was there, her black Saab with its sloping back window full of touristy decals announcing all kinds of amazing sights along the highways. I parked behind her, then found the note she'd stuck under her windshield wiper, which said simply, "You're it!" Determined to uncover her hiding place as soon as possible, especially since the sun was now dropping quickly down the blushing autumn sky, I went over to the back door of the house. It was locked, though, and since I knew Lori would've left her choice open for me after she picked the tumbler, I walked around the corner looking for other possibilities. I happened upon a gravel path that led through a garden to the front door of a small guesthouse. Hip-roofed and ivy-covered, with a row of small black windows upstairs and down, it seemed older than the main house, and had probably stood alone on the property for decades, until it was rudely overshadowed by its slightly less antiquated neighbor.

Going down the path, feeling the bumpy stones shift under my feet, I noticed that the guesthouse door was slightly ajar. A wave of warmth flowed into my genitals, a kind of extra sense that told me I had picked up Lori's trail. The light was failing outdoors and there didn't seem to be any lights on in the guesthouse, but my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and so I decided against fetching a flashlight from my truck. I stepped into a box-like foyer, my eyes and ears wide open, and closed the door behind me.

Looking out, the windows were all blue and rose and wrinkly like squares of crumpled cellophane. They shed just enough light to show the utter emptiness of the guesthouse, which even in its heyday must have been unoccupied for much of the time. There were marks on the bare floor where various pieces of furniture had stood, ugly wounds in the fabric of the wall where someone had carelessly pulled down picture frames. But, in the center of the hallway, there was a single dark shape, which I picked up and recognized as a pair of Lori's jet-black bikini bottoms. Then I noticed other articles of clothing scattered all around: a heavy black sweater, a pair of cargo pants, worn leather boots and a sheer bra Lori had bought on a recent holiday. By now, she must have known I was coming, especially since I wasn't trying to be quiet, but I couldn't hear a thing except for the faraway cry of an aroused cat.

I investigated the downstairs rooms, peeking into the kitchen as a last resort before deciding Lori must be in an upstairs bedroom. I climbed the back staircase, making each tread creak a little, just like they always do in haunted houses. There was a door at the top, which swung slowly away on groaning hinges when I pushed on the cut-glass knob. I stepped out into the narrow hallway, and immediately spied the wavering glow of candlelight from a nearby room. Before I went any farther, though, I left my clothes in a heap on the floor, then walked naked to where my lover was waiting for me.

What I found was a sight more lovely than anything I had imagined. Lori had set candles in a pair of pottery bowls, then placed a bowl on either side of the room. The warm orange light that flickered on the walls and windowpanes made the place come alive, creating a little haven of magic in an otherwise barren space. In-between the candles, stretched out on the thick rug she carried in her car for impromptu sessions of outdoor sex, Lori herself was busy rubbing the juice from her wide-open vagina all over her mons, while resting her other hand on the swell of her breast. She looked up at me and grinned, her dark eyes alight with dancing sparks, her curly black hair a dusky halo around her head. "Mmmmmm, you're just in time," she said, as she held out her wet fingers for me to taste.

I knelt down beside her and took her fingers into my mouth. My cock was now fully erect and thumping up and down with the heavy beats of my pulse. I laid the sticky tip upon Lori's belly as I sucked her fingers clean, and she reached her free hand down to grasp me around my shaft, giving me a good hard squeeze that made a syrupy drop of precome leak out onto her skin. Then, as she dabbed a fingertip into my wetness, to swirl it around my glans, she said, "Like that?" I moaned softly in assent as I kissed a trail down her arm. After a playful bite on her shoulder, I sat up and watched her hand as she stroked me slowly up and down, then I bent toward her again and kissed the furrows between each rib. Lori played with my hair and giggled when I licked a sensitive spot, then gasped when I suddenly changed position and buried my nose in her delicious pussy. I straddled her and let my cock settle into the sweaty valley between her breasts as I began to french kiss her nether lips.

As we lay there together, enjoying the intense connection of a perfect sixty-nine, I felt the house wrap itself around us like a gossamer cocoon. Lori licked my balls, her hands around my ass, her fingers teasing the puckered muscle of my hole. I sucked her labia, tasting the sharp sweetness of her excitement, my tongue exploring deep into her velvety tunnel. In the corners of my vision, the candle flames jerked and whirled around, releasing dark tendrils of smoke toward the high ceiling. The whole room grew hot enough to make us both slick with a layer of helpful sweat.

And yet, as lost in love as I was with eating Lori's snatch, a small part of my mind was acutely aware that we were naked in a stranger's house. I caught myself listening for footsteps on the stairs, for the rusty complaint of the door hinges. Not that I minded too much, of course, since this was the fantasy I'd told Lori about the night before, when I'd shaved her pussy smooth as silk. A fantasy of breaking and entering some empty house, of sex in a hidden place. She'd agreed to try and resurrect her lockpick skills, and told me she would find a place to play as soon as she could. I hadn't expected it to be the next day, but then Lori was quite resourceful in all kinds of surprising ways. Like she was when she recaptured my attention with a clever twist of her finger against the tight bulb of my prostate.

So, with the slightest twinge of nervousness tickling the back of my neck, I dived deeper into Lori's sopping wet cunt, letting my fear of discovery sink under a tide of lust. Lori sucked on my erection, her tongue wrapped around my cockhead while she fucked her fingertip in and out of my ass. I arched my back, lifting my belly off of my lover's with a squishy kissing sound, then settled back down on my elbows. Lori's nipples were full and hard as cherrystones, and nestled into the hollows under my ribcage. I took the hood of her clit between my teeth and ever-so-gently tugged it up and off her little pearl. Careful not to stimulate it too much, yet wanting to feel the hardness of her button against the bed of my tongue, I licked upwards, then down, and up again, massaging her toward the bright frontier of an orgasm. Meanwhile, my balls felt heavy with pent-up jism, my shaft nearly ached with the pressure of an impending fountain of cream. Soon, one of us would have to stop and pull back, to let the other one crest the wave; we had long ago found that a sixty-nine for us was better if we didn't try to come at the same time.

When I felt Lori's pussy begin to tremble against my face, she let my cock spring free of her hungry mouth and I began to lick her harder and faster while my fingers reached deep inside to rub the rough patch of her g-spot. She spread her legs wide and pressed my head down into her sex, then lifted her ass off the rug and began to moan out loud. "Yes," she said,"god, yes, eat my pussy, eat it good, baby...." I did my best to oblige, lovingly drinking up every drop of honey that seeped out of her tender flower. Just at the moment when I knew she was ready to crash over the edge of her first big "o", I licked her as hard and fast as I could, and Lori grabbed my ass and pushed me down so that my hardon cuddled into the soft pillows of her bosom. "Yes, god, yes, fuck me," she cried, and I ran my fingers in and out of her shuddering hole as my tongue swirled around the engorged knot of her clitoris.

Suddenly, Lori went very quiet and still, her breath stopping on a gasp, her legs stretched taut to pull her "o" out to every extremity. Then, just as suddenly, she beat her fist into the small of my back and nearly screamed, waking up god knows who among the far-flung neighbors. I frenched her pulsating cleft until her body was wracked by another spasm, then a third, when she laughed out loud and pulled me forcefully off her, to roll me over on my back. Without pausing for a rest, she immediately went down on my straining hardon, embracing me with her full wet lips. I bucked upwards, fucking her mouth, and thought good thoughts as semen rushed up my shaft. Lori expertly twisted the base of my cock in her hand while working her tongue under the ridge of my glans. She jerked me off into her throat, moaning as streamers of cream finally jumped out of my hole then rolled down her chin.

Soon afterwards, we were kissing passionately, sharing each other's taste, semen and honey mingling on our playful tongues. We snuggled on the rug while the candles burned down into puddles of hot wax. We whispered our contentment, and wondered if we would leave behind any kind of an aura in the guesthouse, some kind of immanent afterglow that the new owners might feel, if they were attuned to such things. We decided that, most likely, they would never suspect what Lori and I had done in this room, never realize the joy we'd shared here one secret autumn evening.

Since the night was still young, despite how long we'd spent with our mouths full of each other, we decided to stay a while and make a few more memories. So, after a few more moments of lazy snuggling, Lori pulled another candle from out of her rucksack and lit it with the dying flame of one of the first candles. We began to caress one another from head to toe, kissing softly at first, then with more urgency as arousal and wild abandon took hold.

And we fucked until the new sun peeked its ruddy face up over the treetops. Before we left the guesthouse for good, Lori took a pen and wrote "David and Lori screwed their brains out here" in big block letters on the wall. Then, like naughty kids, we ran away from the house as fast as we could, my truck gliding along in the slipstream of Lori's quick Saab. Once home, we rushed to undress and hopped back into our old familiar bed, where we slept close together, dreaming sultry dreams that seemed to last for days on end.

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