Unexpected Trip

The ringtone had already identified her. The woman in his dreams and fantasies. His best friend's wife.

Beatrice had supported him through his divorce, and since then they had grown close, exchanging texts and memes several times a day, sometimes quite steamy. Her marriage was also failing, but he had no intention of entering in such a dreary mix.

He lived in a beachfront house, and he was always glad to have his friends over. They knew that they had a permanent invitation.

On the phone, her photo smiled at him, and this gave him a small smile also. He answered, and through the opening pleasantries he could hear something not quite right in her voice.

"May I come over?"

"Sure you can! You know you don't have to ask."

"Oh, I don't know that, maybe you have a girlfriend with you..." He could almost hear her delightful smile.

"Not right now, no. Don't worry, I'll hold the queue, and ask the next one to wait a bit longer."

She laughed at that, and told him she would take the first bus in the morning. "I'm going alone this time." He didn't press for information. He sensed that she needed some time for herself.

Later that night, he was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep. His imagination was in overdrive, fantasizing a thousand scenarios with her. But this was not new, and he soon found enough peace in himself to sleep.

In the morning, he went to the bus stop to wait for her. The bus arrived, and Beatrice was already smiling when she saw him. They embraced fondly, and he felt the familiar smell of sunlight in her hair. He picked up her bag for the short walk to his house. She was talking quite happily about this and that, but nothing about her unexpected trip.

Beatrice was quite at home in his house, and went straight to the guest room to unpack. He busied himself in the kitchen, brewing some coffee. When she came back to the room, she was already dressed for the beach, with a gauzy mini-dress barely concealing her curves. They drank the still-hot coffee and went to the beach.

It was a cool, windy day, with hardly any clouds in the sky. They had the beach to themselves; they could see only a few people, far away. Beatrice took off her dress, revealing her bikini, and went straight to the water. He accompanied her for a while, but he soon went back to where they had left their clothes. Sitting in the sand, he feasted his eyes on her, fancying her as a frolicking mermaid.

When she came out of the water, he offered her a towel, and she let him drape it over her. They sat and drank some water from their bottles, otherwise content just watching the beach scenery.

A sudden gust of wind gave her a chill, and she pressed against him for warmth. He automatically put his arm around her, silently blessing the wind. They sat there a while yet, until she said she wanted to go back to his house.

They collected their stuff and went back. Earlier, she had been very chatty; but now, they were silent during the short walk.

Back at his house, he collected the wet clothes and put them to dry on the clothesline. Going inside, he found that she was standing near the big table, waiting for him.

"What do you want for your lunch?" he asked.

Beatrice answered quite simply. "You." She came to him, and again he automatically put his arms around her; but this time she raised her mouth for a kiss, and he did not hesitate.

Kissing, he suddenly perceived in her the same concealed desire, now at last being released -- first as a single note, and then in a crescendo of music.

The kiss stopped; or, rather, they then used their mouths to explore each other. They could not stop touching, kissing, caressing. He had spent all morning keeping back his erection, but now it was almost hurting. When he lifted her bikini top, he could see that her nipples were just as hard, and he feasted on her breasts, listening while she cooed and gasped.

They landed on the sofa, and she kissed her way through his body, until she was kissing his cock head, and then licking it, taking it in her mouth, and going back to kissing and licking. It was as if she wanted to cram years of repressed desire in a few minutes, doing everything at once. He felt the same way, unable to stop exploring her with her hands.

He turned and made her lie on her back in the sofa, and now he was kneeling between her legs. She gladly opened her legs wide, and he dived.

Her smell and taste were exquisite. Beatrice was laughing delightedly, her laughter punctuated by several gasps. She was sopping wet, and he lapped her pussy while pressing his thumb in circles, just above her clit. She was louder now, babbling something; he could not understand the words, but he was thinking in the same language of touches, and their meaning was clear.

He would gladly make her cum with his tongue and fingers, but they both knew that it was not time yet: it was time to complete the mutual discovery of their bodies.

She laughed again when he positioned himself between her legs, which she again opened in a wide split. When he entered her, her legs came around him, and her laughter was almost a scream.

He was holding her ass in his hands, preventing her from slipping from the sofa, and watching her body moving with him. She had had her eyes open until he entered her, but now they were closed. This gave him an extra thrill, as if it was still the so-recent past when he had often gazed at her when she was unaware.

He had been silent; but now, he also started laughing with her. She opened her eyes again, and went over the edge. He watched her cumming, and then it was his turn.

Spent, he lowered himself a bit, but she immediately grasped him with legs and arms, and flowed down the sofa with him, preventing his cock from slipping out of her. Catching up his breath, he went back to kissing her head, which she kept firmly in his chest.

Then she raised her face, and they exchanged a longing, loving kiss. When the kiss stopped, she opened her eyes, and looked everywhere at his face, as if trying to memorize it. She then gave a luminous smile, and said "I think we need a bath."

They disentangled themselves and rose up. He started towards the kitchen, but she stopped him. "I said, WE need a bath."

It was his turn to smile. "I remember when you said that you do not fancy fucking in the shower."

"I don't. And we probably won't. But we can start something which we will then continue in your bed."

She offered her hand, and pulled him to the bathroom.

However, she was partly mistaken: they did fuck in the bathroom. But they also continued in his bed.