The smell of cardboard and dust still hung in the air, mixed with the scent of cold coffee and fatigue. My arms ached as I heaved the last box into the living room, but when I turned and saw Lena sitting on the sofa – legs pulled up, black hair disheveled, eyes tired but awake – I knew this day wasn’t over yet. My cock was already half-hard in my pants, just from the sight of her long, bare legs gleaming in the pale light of the floor lamp.
A Late End
“Done,” I said, dropping exhaustedly next to her. The old upholstery groaned under my weight. Lena smiled crookedly. “Almost. The kitchen is still a mess.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face, and her fingers trembled slightly. I could smell the sweat on her skin, mixed with her perfume, and my cock grew even harder.
“Tomorrow. Please.” I tried not to stare at her tits, which were outlined under her tight T-shirt. Her nipples were already hard, pressing through the thin fabric.
She laughed softly, and I felt something loosen inside me. We’d known each other for ten years, had survived studies, breakups, moves together. But today was different. Maybe because of the closeness, the intimacy of this empty apartment that belonged only to us. Maybe because I’d wanted to fuck her for so long that it hurt.
“I still have beer in the fridge,” I said. “It has to go today.” My voice sounded hoarse, full of suppressed lust.
She nodded. I got two bottles, sat back down. Her shoulder touched mine as she took the beer. A small shock – static? Or was it more? Her nipple grazed my arm, and I felt it grow even harder under the touch. She let the bottle rest on her lips a moment too long, and I stared at her mouth as she swallowed the cold beer.
An Unexpected Closeness
We drank in silence. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but charged. I felt her gaze on me, and when I looked back, she held it. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated. “You know,” she began, “today I’ve often wondered why we never actually…” She hesitated. Her breath quickened, and I saw her hand tremble as she set the beer bottle on the floor.
“Never what?” My heart pounded so loud I heard it in my ears. My hand involuntarily drifted to my crotch, where my cock pressed against the zipper.
“Never more than friends.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but I heard the longing in it. She leaned forward slightly, and her T-shirt slipped lower, revealing the soft curve of her tits.
That was the moment I should have said something – something light, distracting. But the truth forced its way out, raw and unprotected. “I’ve wondered that too.” My voice cracked, and I felt the heat in my crotch become unbearable.
Lena put her beer down and turned to me. Her hand landed on my thigh, light, questioning. Her fingers touched the fabric of my pants, right over my hard cock, and I flinched. “And what’s the answer?” Her hand stayed there, and I felt the warmth of her fingers through the fabric.
I took her hand, turned it over, let my fingers glide over her palm. It was soft and damp, and I imagined how that hand would wrap around my cock. “That we were too cowardly. Or too sensible.” I guided her hand closer to my crotch, and she felt the hardness under the fabric. Her breath caught.
“And now?” Her voice was hoarse, full of desire. Her fingers closed around my cock through my pants, and I moaned softly.
“Now I’m too tired to be sensible.” I pressed her hand tighter against my arousal, and she smiled. A smile that took my breath away.
She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was a laugh of relief, of release. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. Her lips were soft, cool from the beer, and I tasted the sweetness of malt. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, but then it became more demanding. My hand slid into her neck, pulling her closer. She opened her mouth, and I dove into her warmth. Our tongues met, and I felt her pressing against me, her hand massaging my cock through my pants.
The Foreplay of Hands
Our hands began to wander, groping, discovering. I felt the curve of her hip under the thin fabric of her T-shirt, the arch of her back. She pulled at my shirt, unbuttoned it, and her fingers left a trail of fire on my skin. I slid my hand under her T-shirt, over the soft skin of her belly, until I reached the edge of her bra. She flinched slightly as I traced the bottom edge of the fabric. I pushed my hand deeper, under the bra, and her nipple met my fingertip – hard, erect, ready.
“I want you,” she whispered between two kisses. Her hand let go of my cock and began to open my belt. I heard the click of the buckle, and my heart raced.
“I want you too,” I replied, and the words felt heavy, significant. She unzipped my fly, and I felt the cool air on my skin as she opened my pants. Her fingers closed around my cock – directly, without barrier – and I moaned loudly. She was warm, soft, and her grip was firm.
She stood up, pulling me with her. Her hand didn’t let go of my cock as we walked to the bedroom. In the bedroom, there was only the mattress on the floor, but that was enough. Lena stripped off her T-shirt, and I saw her in the pale light of the streetlamp – her tits, full and firm, her nipples already hard. She opened her bra, and her tits fell free, heavy and inviting. I leaned forward, took one in my mouth, and she moaned softly. I circled the tip with my tongue, felt it grow even harder under my touch. She buried her fingers in my hair and pressed me tighter against her.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Lick them, lick my nipples.”
I obeyed and switched to the other breast, while my hand wandered down over her belly. I felt the warmth radiating from her, even before I reached the waistband of her pants. She helped me out of my pants, then out of hers. Our naked bodies met, and I felt the warmth of her thighs, the wetness between them. I slid my hand between her legs, stroking her through the thin fabric of her panties. She was already wet, the fabric soaked with her juice.
Voices from the community
No voices yet — be the first to say what turned you on.
