A Picture is Worth 1000 Words

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They sat, cuddled up against the cold morning breeze, watching as the sun rose over the point. His arm wrapped around her as she leaned against him.

“It will be OK” he said quietly. “It’s a new day.”

She snuggled into him, saying nothing. She simply listened to the sounds of birds and waves against the hull.

The coffee warmed them along with the sun of a bright new day.

She looked at him and smiled. “You make me happy.”

His heart soared and he felt he would burst with happiness. He took her chin in his hand and gently kissed her. Their mouths parting and tongues beginning to dance.

Slowly they rose, words not necessary, and held hands as they returned to their stateroom. The day’s sailing would wait.
 
She worked down the hall in another office, only glancing up in passing. I could tell she had a nice figure, and when her voice carried to my cubicle, it was melodic and memorable. I wasn’t sure whether she was in a relationship, but I was conscious of her for several weeks.

Eventually we said “Hi” in passing, her perfume wafting around me. I don’t suppose I really looked closely at her, trying to be gentlemanly. So I was surprised when she was standing next to me in the lunch line in the cafeteria. She ordered a salad, I a pasta dish. The room was quite crowded. Passing the cashier, we both looked around for a table.

“There is one open to our left that we might share,” I said off the cuff. She nodded and we sat at the table. Seeing her across the table, was probably the first time I had really looked at her directly.

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From that moment on, I was lost, or perhaps found…
 
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"Men just aren't that complicated" might be the first 5 words of the 1,000 lol
 
Literotica Chat is an interesting place. Some of the women with whom I have a private chat are only there to pass the time. Others are more aggressive. Last week I started a chat with MaryUK55. It was quite tame and aboveboard. We talked about where we lived, what places we had visited, etc.

It was getting late for me, and I needed to log off. I tried to move the conversation to a conclusion, but she seemed to want to continue to chat. When I said I had to go, she said to wait just a moment, she had something she wanted to share.

And then she sent me a URL link. I opened it, this was it, titled as:

me on the stairs

Then she typed: “Tell me what you would do to me if you met me like this.”

I postponed my log off and went into some detail to answer her question. We chatted for another two hours….
 
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“I have an idea!” She giggled as she sat down on the swing, the tight knit dress riding up her thighs.

“Yes?” He knew that giggle and it both aroused and terrified him.

“Fuck me on the swing.” Her eyes looking right into his knowing what those words did to him.

“But…” He didn’t want to talk himself out of it.

“But what?” She teased as she slowly spread her legs revealing a glimpse of her neatly trimmed bush.

He gasped, “You’re not…”

“I can see your cock getting hard. Why aren’t you fucking me?” Her voice simply making a statement and asking a question.

“Someone might see.” His heart beat so hard.

“So?” She said simply, her fingers now spreading her lips and teasing her clit.

He looked around and quickly unzipped his trousers, his cock pushing its way through the fly of his boxers and into the open. He stepped between her legs and grabbed the ropes, pulling her up to his waist. Wrapping her arms and legs around him she pulled herself onto him, his strong arms helping pull the swing up as well. Slowly he began to fuck her, the position awkward and physically challenging, but the naughtiness of fucking on her childhood swing was delicious.

She chuckled, “it seemed better in my head,” as he felt himself slipping out from the twisting swing.

“I have another idea,” she snickered as she unwrapped herself from him and he let the swing return to center. “You sit.”

They changed places, as he tried to shield his cock from any eyes in the house or the neighboring yards.

He sat on the swing and she quickly slipped her dress up around her waist as she straddled him, slipping her legs between his waist and the ropes. She took him deeply, and began to ride him hard, the swing swaying with her rhythm.

He worried about her bare ass hanging out and reaching around the ropes, grabbed it mostly to cover it.

Kissing him deeply she moaned, “god yes fuck me right here on my swing” as her hips took over and her body thrilled at the exposure and naughtiness of it all.

Her orgasm swept over her quickly, and his followed immediately in spite of his nervousness. She always pushed his boundaries, but he knew deep down he wanted that.

As they untangled and put clothing in proper order she sighed as her fingers played with the brand new ring, “I’m so glad we made the trip so you could see my childhood home and meet my parents, they should be home any minute.”
 
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The blue sundress danced and swirled around her body as they walked into the rustic farmhouse they had rented for the weekend escape. She had been teasing them both throughout the drive. Letting the skirt ride up so high it almost but not quite revealed her newly shaved pussy. Running her fingers across the tops of her breasts while looking at him and biting her lip. Sliding her hand up her thigh as she whispered how smooth her skin felt. And then caressing his thigh and brushing the bulge in his pants that gave away the effect he was desperately trying to hide.

Chuck carried the groceries they’d carefully selected in the Trader Joe’s, fresh olives, French bread, croissants, cheese and bottles of wine. He loved her body, especially in the sundress, and enjoyed simply watching her. He knew she loved to be watched. Part of him wanted to grab her the minute the door closed behind him, but he also loved the tease and slow build up. He reveled in the fact that she wanted him as much and wondered which one of them would finally break and initiate the passionate sex they both knew would happen.

The groceries were put away with teasing and touching both feeling the electricity and passion that had been building all day. They poured some wine and set out some olives, cheese and bread as they began to plan their weekend together. Jane continued her teasing, even making sure to remind him that she wore no underwear.

Jane stood, her back against the large rough wooden table, as Craig set down his wine next to hers. Turning he faced her and wrapping his arms around her, he began to kiss her. Deep, slow kisses, her mouth accepting him and their tongues dancing and swirling. Janes hand slide down his torso and found his cock, hard and thick in his jeans.

“What do we have here?” she giggled playfully, “are you gonna just keep it hidden all weekend?”

Craig’s will broke and grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the table, spreading her legs with his body. “No, I’m gonna fuck you with it,” he growled as his hands slid up her thighs to her bare hips.

“Then fuck me.” Her voice soft and yet commanding, “fuck me like you mean it. Show me how bad you want me, take me right here and now.”

Craig’s body reacted physically to her words; he loved hearing her talk like that. Her desire for him was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

They quickly unbuttoned his jeans, and he pushed his boxers down. He pulled her against him and slid into her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and moaned, “fuck yes Chuck, take me.”

He could feel the wetness of her arousal as she squeezed him with every part of her body.

The looked deep into each other’s eyes as he fucked her with passionate abandon.

“Craig yes, fuck me so hard.” Her voice shaking with the built-up tension they both felt.

He growled “Oh god Jane, yes” and they exploded together.
 
My initial plan was that I would post about once a week. But, since I'll be off Lit for a bit after this week, I'm going to post a couple. Just so you don't miss me. 🤣😂🤣 I know no one will miss me
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“Go slow, Go slow,” she pled in a breathy whisper as she grabbed his cock.

“Shhhh,” He comforted. “Just relax, I’ll go slow.”

He wanted this so badly. They had been together for a couple years and the sex had been great. Exploring each other and new things together. Neither had been very experienced when they met, but they had found something incredibly special together. They had begun to trust each other and express their kinkier interests. When he brought up anal for the first time he expected a hard no, but she had raised an eyebrow and given just a half smile.

She provided a coy response, “I don’t know, I’d have to be in the right mood.”

They had gone for a long hike along the river this morning, and she was in frisky mood. Teasing him and kissing him throughout their walk. He did some teasing of his own, smacking her ass playfully and even fingering her briefly when the sat on a bench. By the time they got home, they ripped each other clothes off, not even bothering with her sox. They started both on their backs, one arm under her head, the other spread her legs and began to finger her.

She came hard and quickly, he body already aroused. “Fuck my ass” she whispered as lay panting from her first orgasm. He didn’t second guess. The lube was in the headboard and he used a generous amount. He juices had flowed liberally from her orgasm and slipped down her crack. He slid between her cheeks, gently probing her tight little opening.

She gasped as he popped through the ring and he paused, whispering in her ear, “relax, breath, tell me when.”

She mewled, “It feels so big this way.” Her voice betraying excitement more than concern. “OK” she whimpered.

Slowly he pushed himself deep inside her ass. Her breath coming in quick gasps, she spread her legs slightly and began to finger herself. He waited, holding himself there, even though he desperately wanted to just fuck her hard. As her body began to react to her fingers he slowly began to rock his hips and gently thrust, in and out.

“Oh fuck!” She gasped.

“I love fucking your ass.” He growled in her ear again.

His pace quickened and soon he was near the edge, the tight sensation combined with the novelty and naughtiness was exciting. As his body took over, he thrust deep and hard. His hand grabbed her hip and he fucked her ass as he’d imagined. He growled his pleasure into her ear.

“Oh, God, yes, you’re cumming.” She cried. “Oh fuck.”

Her fingers worked furiously as his body began to relax, and soon she tipped over the edge too. Her legs clamping together, he felt her rings tightening on his slowly fading erection.

They lay there, his cock softening and sliding gently out of her ass, catching their breaths. He wrapped his arms around her and her head fell back onto his shoulder. She relaxed against his chest. He whispered, “Thank you.”

She was silent for a moment and then asked, “So, can I fuck your ass sometime?”
Turnabout is fair play, but a reach around at the same time would be nice.
 
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When she was young, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of happily ever afters, exotic places, and all you can eat chocolate buffets.

When she was a bit older, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of getting her own place, boys, and where she would go to college.

As a young adult, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of what she would name her children, getting married, and finding a good job.

As she grew older, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. As tears fell down her face, she dreamed of days that weren't so tiring, kissing a man other than her husband, and a life that existed outside of the pages of smutty novels.
 
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The blue sundress danced and swirled around her body as they walked into the rustic farmhouse they had rented for the weekend escape. She had been teasing them both throughout the drive. Letting the skirt ride up so high it almost but not quite revealed her newly shaved pussy. Running her fingers across the tops of her breasts while looking at him and biting her lip. Sliding her hand up her thigh as she whispered how smooth her skin felt. And then caressing his thigh and brushing the bulge in his pants that gave away the effect he was desperately trying to hide.

Chuck carried the groceries they’d carefully selected in the Trader Joe’s, fresh olives, French bread, croissants, cheese and bottles of wine. He loved her body, especially in the sundress, and enjoyed simply watching her. He knew she loved to be watched. Part of him wanted to grab her the minute the door closed behind him, but he also loved the tease and slow build up. He reveled in the fact that she wanted him as much and wondered which one of them would finally break and initiate the passionate sex they both knew would happen.

The groceries were put away with teasing and touching both feeling the electricity and passion that had been building all day. They poured some wine and set out some olives, cheese and bread as they began to plan their weekend together. Jane continued her teasing, even making sure to remind him that she wore no underwear.

Jane stood, her back against the large rough wooden table, as Craig set down his wine next to hers. Turning he faced her and wrapping his arms around her, he began to kiss her. Deep, slow kisses, her mouth accepting him and their tongues dancing and swirling. Janes hand slide down his torso and found his cock, hard and thick in his jeans.

“What do we have here?” she giggled playfully, “are you gonna just keep it hidden all weekend?”

Craig’s will broke and grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the table, spreading her legs with his body. “No, I’m gonna fuck you with it,” he growled as his hands slid up her thighs to her bare hips.

“Then fuck me.” Her voice soft and yet commanding, “fuck me like you mean it. Show me how bad you want me, take me right here and now.”

Craig’s body reacted physically to her words; he loved hearing her talk like that. Her desire for him was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

They quickly unbuttoned his jeans, and he pushed his boxers down. He pulled her against him and slid into her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and moaned, “fuck yes Chuck, take me.”

He could feel the wetness of her arousal as she squeezed him with every part of her body.

The looked deep into each other’s eyes as he fucked her with passionate abandon.

“Craig yes, fuck me so hard.” Her voice shaking with the built-up tension they both felt.

He growled “Oh god Jane, yes” and they exploded together.
I don’t think I ever told you how much I love this. The blue sundress, the teasing, the putting away the groceries (being responsible and delaying their need), keeping some wine and cheese for sustenance and finally giving in after the teasing. Beautifully written and wonderfully paired with the image.
 
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When she was young, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of happily ever afters, exotic places, and all you can eat chocolate buffets.

When she was a bit older, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of getting her own place, boys, and where she would go to college.

As a young adult, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. She dreamed of what she would name her children, getting married, and finding a good job.

As she grew older, Alice could stare out the window and dream for hours. As tears fell down her face, she dreamed of days that weren't so tiring, kissing a man other than her husband, and a life that existed outside of the smutty novels she flipped the pages of.
Thank you for sharing a piece that captures the longing to escape our lives, even sometimes the ones we dreamed of, they many of us feel♥️
 
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“I want to watch you” her voice husky with arousal.

“Really?” both reluctance and excitement twisted into one word.

“I want you to show me how you stroke yourself” her command more reassuring than demanding.

Slowly he began to stroke his cock. Two fingers just below the head on the underside and a thumb opposite. He was self-conscious stroking himself like this. He had never let anyone watch before. Her naked body excited him and the desire to please her was deliciously overwhelming.

His speed quickened as his fist closed over his shaft.

“Wait,” she whispered, and he stopped. “Get close and then stop.”

He gasped and began to stroke himself again, switching between his fingers and his whole hand. All the while looking at her face. The look on her face could only be described as fascinated lust. Not licentious, not depraved, not perverted, but beautiful and sexy in its desire for him. He felt it deep in his body, even in his soul.

Soon he felt himself close and he paused as she had asked him to. “I’m so close” his voice a hoarse whisper.

She licked her lips and gasped as she saw the pre-cum escaping from the head.

“Use your fingers and spread your pre-cum around your head” her arousal at the view and the control she exerted apparent in her voice.

His breathing coming in ragged gasps he simply did as she asked, his gaze darting between his throbbing purple head and her dark smoldering eyes.

“Cum for me” she whispered, “cum for me now” her voice now almost pleading as her desire began to overwhelm her.

His fingers stroking himself and her arousal excited him to orgasm quickly. His cum spurting from his tip, and running down his shaft, over his fingers, covering and down to his balls.

She gasped and moaned at the delicious sight and her hunger took over. She took the two steps to him as the last spurts of his orgasm rolled through him. She grabbed his cum covered hand and took it deep into her mouth, licking and sucking his fingers.

His pleasure at watching her excitement and arousal from his performance surged through his entire body. The excitement of pleasing her left him more satisfied than any orgasm he had ever had from masturbation before.

(with much thanks to @Photog1rl for very useful edits).
 
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“I want to watch you” her voice husky with arousal.

“Really?” both reluctance and excitement twisted into one word.

“I want you to show me how you stroke yourself” her command more reassuring than demanding.

Slowly he began to stroke his cock. Two fingers just below the head on the underside and a thumb opposite. He was self-conscious stroking himself like this. He had never let anyone watch before. Her naked body excited him and the desire to please her was deliciously overwhelming.

His speed quickened as his fist closed over his shaft.

“Wait,” she whispered, and he stopped. “Get close and then stop.”

He gasped and began to stroke himself again, switching between his fingers and his whole hand. All the while looking at her face. The look on her face could only be described as fascinated lust. Not licentious, not depraved, not perverted, but beautiful and sexy in its desire for him. He felt it deep in his body, even in his soul.

Soon he felt himself close and he paused as she had asked him to. “I’m so close” his voice a hoarse whisper.

She licked her lips and gasped as she saw the pre-cum escaping from the head.

“Use your fingers and spread your pre-cum around your head” her arousal at the view and the control she exerted apparent in her voice.

His breathing coming in ragged gasps he simply did as she asked, his gaze darting between his throbbing purple head and her dark smoldering eyes.

“Cum for me” she whispered, “cum for me now” her voice now almost pleading as her desire began to overwhelm her.

His fingers stroking himself and her arousal excited him to orgasm quickly. His cum spurting from his tip, and running down his shaft, over his fingers, covering and down to his balls.

She gasped and moaned at the delicious sight and her hunger took over. She took the two steps to him as the last spurts of his orgasm rolled through him. She grabbed his cum covered hand and took it deep into her mouth, licking and sucking his fingers.

His pleasure at watching her excitement and arousal from his performance surged through his entire body. The excitement of pleasing her left him more satisfied than any orgasm he had ever had from masturbation before.

(with much thanks to @Photog1rl for very useful edits).
I love the edits you chose and you already know how I feel about the vignette. 💕😈
 
(All characters are 18+.)

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You come to a sudden stop as soon as you round the corner and spot me sitting on the stoop of your family home. The expression on your face is one of mixed shock, disbelief, and embarrassment. I don't blame you, of course. If I were you, I'd feel the same.

You hesitate a long, long moment before once again heading my way. You glance around as if looking for witnesses or, perhaps, one of those hidden gotcha camera crews.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when you are standing near me. Your voice is barely above a whisper. "Haven't you embarrassed me enough already?"

I can't help but chuckle. I don't mean to further the harm. But the question is rather humorous. After all, I wasn't the one who was masturbating beyond the unlocked bathroom door while his father and a female guest were in the adjoining room. I was just the female guest who walked in on you while searching for my wayward purse.

But my laugh has bothered you. I try to make up for it by telling you, "You weren't doing anything wrong."

Your expression and body language tell me that that did nothing for you. I add, "It's a natural thing ... that thing you were doing. Everybody does it."

Without hesitation, you snap back, "Sure, you do it, too."

I hesitate, considering how to respond. I don't, verbally anyway. But when you look back into my eyes, I smile a bit and let an eyebrow rise in a knowing, confirming expression. That does something for you, I imagine. I can tell from your expression that your mind is suddenly churning out deeply erotic images of me laying on my back, hands between my thighs as I writhe all about, moaning and crying and screaming out in ecstasy ... likely calling out your name.

Your face suddenly explodes in red. You divert your eyes elsewhere, unable to withstand my gaze.

I reach a hand to you, my long, painted nail fingers waggling for your attention. "Help me up?"

You hesitate but comply. I add a forward step to my rise. It puts me very close to you. You continue to have a hard time looking me in the eyes. That doesn't keep you from taking quick glances down my front side, though you try to hide the quick ogles. My smallish but firm breasts are unbridled as is often the case. My perma-hard nipples are conspicuously displayed through the thin fabric of my blouse. It's a look that gains me a great deal of attention, even when I'm not looking for it.

"Listen," I begin with a soft voice barely over a whisper, "I was talking to your father about what happened, and--"

"Oh my God!" you exclaim. You turn and step away, pause, and turn to face me again. "You told--!"

You stop, realizing how loudly you are talking. You move quickly forward again, until there is only a foot or so between us. In a whispered growl of shock and dismay, you continue, "You told my father! Why would you tell my father that you ... that I ... that you walked in... ?"

You are unable to more completely describe what happened between us. Not that anything really happened between us, of course. More happened to us.

I try to explain, "I told him that I was looking for my purse ... and ... that I didn't know you were using the bathroom to ... you know--"

"You told him what I was doing," you respond. It's more of an accusation than a question.

I shrug. "Yes."

"You told my father ... that I was--" You drop your voice to a barely audible whisper. "--masturbating"

"Yes."

"And that you walked in on me."

I shrug playfully. "Yes...?"

Again, you turn, stomp away, pause, turn, and come back. You growl, again just over a whisper, "Why would you do that? Can you even imagine how embarrassing it is for your father to know you were caught beating off to a fantasy of being with his girlfriend?"

At this point, it is I who's wearing a shocked expression. I ask, "His what??

Confused, you repeat, "His what?

"That's what I asked you!" I respond. "Your dad's what?"

"Girlfriend," you repeat. Then, thinking that it's the terminology that's throwing me off, you clarify, "Lover, mistress play thing ... whatever."

Now, it's me who has the shocked expression. I laugh aloud. "You think your dad's fucking me?"

You don't immediately answer. You eventually mumble, "He isn't?"

I laugh again. "Your dad isn't fucking me. Your dad is fucking my mother."

Once again, your face is filled with confusion. I explain, "Your father and my mother have been fucking for a couple of months. I came over to your house last night with her because we were all going out to dinner. Your dad told us later that he didn't know you were home from University until I told him what I saw. Otherwise, he would have invited you to join us."

The confusion in your mind must be deep by now. You stare at me dumbfounded and silent. You finally speak: "So ... you're not fucking my dad?"

I laugh again. "No! I'm not fucking your dad!"

Another moment of silence follows. You must realize that our volume had risen. More quietly, you continue, "But ... you told him you caught me ... you know."

"Yeah," I say without hesitation or guilt.

Again, dismay fills your face. "Why would you do that?"

"Because," I respond simply. That obviously isn't enough for you, not that it should be. I continue, "I saw you. I ... I saw you naked. You're ... I don't even know the right word. You're beautiful."

You are, of course. I know that there are other more masculine words I could have used. But beautiful is perfect, as are you. And I can see in your change of expression that you seem to be okay with the word, too.

You're still troubled with the whole telling your father you were beating off thing, though. I continue, "You're beautiful ... and ... I wanted to know whether you were seeing someone or whether you might be available ... and I mentioned to your father that I saw you in the bathroom ... and one thing led to another, and I ended up telling him what I saw..."

I pause a moment before I continue with, "...because I was hoping that maybe you dad would know whether you'd been thinking about me ... or someone else."

There is another long moment of silence. I can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind. I can only hope they are turning what I consider the right direction. Finally, hesitantly, you say, "You ... were hoping ... that I was ... what...? Thinking about you ... while I was ... you know..."

I answer your question with a matter-of-fact statement. "I went home last night and masturbated to the image of your head between my thighs..."

Your eyes widen. I add, "...and that beautiful body of yours laying atop me..."

I glance down your frontside. I move closer, until only an inch or so separate us. I casually reach forward, cupping your conspicuously enflamed hard-on. I finish as I gently caress you, "...and that incredible cock of yours moving in and out of me with that same intensity with which you were stroking it earlier in the night."

Silence passes as I continue to pleasure you in a way inappropriate for our current streetside location. I finally disengage and reach that hand upward. "So ... are you inviting me up...? Or ... am I going home to--"

"No," you interrupt, taking my hand. You squeeze it invitingly, asking, "Would you like to come up?"

I turn toward the steps. "I would."
 
(All characters are 18+.)

NFO1GDT.jpg

You come to a sudden stop as soon as you round the corner and spot me sitting on the stoop of your family home. The expression on your face is one of mixed shock, disbelief, and embarrassment. I don't blame you, of course. If I were you, I'd feel the same.

You hesitate a long, long moment before once again heading my way. You glance around as if looking for witnesses or, perhaps, one of those hidden gotcha camera crews.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when you are standing near me. Your voice is barely above a whisper. "Haven't you embarrassed me enough already?"

I can't help but chuckle. I don't mean to further the harm. But the question is rather humorous. After all, I wasn't the one who was masturbating beyond the unlocked bathroom door while his father and a female guest were in the adjoining room. I was just the female guest who walked in on you while searching for my wayward purse.

But my laugh has bothered you. I try to make up for it by telling you, "You weren't doing anything wrong."

Your expression and body language tell me that that did nothing for you. I add, "It's a natural thing ... that thing you were doing. Everybody does it."

Without hesitation, you snap back, "Sure, you do it, too."

I hesitate, considering how to respond. I don't, verbally anyway. But when you look back into my eyes, I smile a bit and let an eyebrow rise in a knowing, confirming expression. That does something for you, I imagine. I can tell from your expression that your mind is suddenly churning out deeply erotic images of me laying on my back, hands between my thighs as I writhe all about, moaning and crying and screaming out in ecstasy ... likely calling out your name.

Your face suddenly explodes in red. You divert your eyes elsewhere, unable to withstand my gaze.

I reach a hand to you, my long, painted nail fingers waggling for your attention. "Help me up?"

You hesitate but comply. I add a forward step to my rise. It puts me very close to you. You continue to have a hard time looking me in the eyes. That doesn't keep you from taking quick glances down my front side, though you try to hide the quick ogles. My smallish but firm breasts are unbridled as is often the case. My perma-hard nipples are conspicuously displayed through the thin fabric of my blouse. It's a look that gains me a great deal of attention, even when I'm not looking for it.

"Listen," I begin with a soft voice barely over a whisper, "I was talking to your father about what happened, and--"

"Oh my God!" you exclaim. You turn and step away, pause, and turn to face me again. "You told--!"

You stop, realizing how loudly you are talking. You move quickly forward again, until there is only a foot or so between us. In a whispered growl of shock and dismay, you continue, "You told my father! Why would you tell my father that you ... that I ... that you walked in... ?"

You are unable to more completely describe what happened between us. Not that anything really happened between us, of course. More happened to us.

I try to explain, "I told him that I was looking for my purse ... and ... that I didn't know you were using the bathroom to ... you know--"

"You told him what I was doing," you respond. It's more of an accusation than a question.

I shrug. "Yes."

"You told my father ... that I was--" You drop your voice to a barely audible whisper. "--masturbating"

"Yes."

"And that you walked in on me."

I shrug playfully. "Yes...?"

Again, you turn, stomp away, pause, turn, and come back. You growl, again just over a whisper, "Why would you do that? Can you even imagine how embarrassing it is for your father to know you were caught beating off to a fantasy of being with his girlfriend?"

At this point, it is I who's wearing a shocked expression. I ask, "His what??

Confused, you repeat, "His what?

"That's what I asked you!" I respond. "Your dad's what?"

"Girlfriend," you repeat. Then, thinking that it's the terminology that's throwing me off, you clarify, "Lover, mistress play thing ... whatever."

Now, it's me who has the shocked expression. I laugh aloud. "You think your dad's fucking me?"

You don't immediately answer. You eventually mumble, "He isn't?"

I laugh again. "Your dad isn't fucking me. Your dad is fucking my mother."

Once again, your face is filled with confusion. I explain, "Your father and my mother have been fucking for a couple of months. I came over to your house last night with her because we were all going out to dinner. Your dad told us later that he didn't know you were home from University until I told him what I saw. Otherwise, he would have invited you to join us."

The confusion in your mind must be deep by now. You stare at me dumbfounded and silent. You finally speak: "So ... you're not fucking my dad?"

I laugh again. "No! I'm not fucking your dad!"

Another moment of silence follows. You must realize that our volume had risen. More quietly, you continue, "But ... you told him you caught me ... you know."

"Yeah," I say without hesitation or guilt.

Again, dismay fills your face. "Why would you do that?"

"Because," I respond simply. That obviously isn't enough for you, not that it should be. I continue, "I saw you. I ... I saw you naked. You're ... I don't even know the right word. You're beautiful."

You are, of course. I know that there are other more masculine words I could have used. But beautiful is perfect, as are you. And I can see in your change of expression that you seem to be okay with the word, too.

You're still troubled with the whole telling your father you were beating off thing, though. I continue, "You're beautiful ... and ... I wanted to know whether you were seeing someone or whether you might be available ... and I mentioned to your father that I saw you in the bathroom ... and one thing led to another, and I ended up telling him what I saw..."

I pause a moment before I continue with, "...because I was hoping that maybe you dad would know whether you'd been thinking about me ... or someone else."

There is another long moment of silence. I can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind. I can only hope they are turning what I consider the right direction. Finally, hesitantly, you say, "You ... were hoping ... that I was ... what...? Thinking about you ... while I was ... you know..."

I answer your question with a matter-of-fact statement. "I went home last night and masturbated to the image of your head between my thighs..."

Your eyes widen. I add, "...and that beautiful body of yours laying atop me..."

I glance down your frontside. I move closer, until only an inch or so separate us. I casually reach forward, cupping your conspicuously enflamed hard-on. I finish as I gently caress you, "...and that incredible cock of yours moving in and out of me with that same intensity with which you were stroking it earlier in the night."

Silence passes as I continue to pleasure you in a way inappropriate for our current streetside location. I finally disengage and reach that hand upward. "So ... are you inviting me up...? Or ... am I going home to--"

"No," you interrupt, taking my hand. You squeeze it invitingly, asking, "Would you like to come up?"

I turn toward the steps. "I would."
Wow! This is great! Thanks for posting!!!!
 
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It took every ounce of restraint not to rush to the front room when she heard the door snick open and his familiar footsteps in the hallway. She knew she needed to wait, to let him come to her, but the stress of the last few months made waiting these last few seconds so difficult.

Slowly she stood, almost counting the pace so that they would meet near the middle of the house. Their eyes met, hers searching his for any clue as to the answer.

He looked tired, stressed, challenged. His expression gave her no clue as to the outcome. But she could not bring herself to ask, to open Schrodinger’s Box. At this minute he was alive, and knowing the future could destroy that.

She held her breath as his eyes met hers. Her heart pounding both desperately needing to know the answer and dreading the horrible possibilities that it held in store.

“It’s not…” his voice broke as the tears began to stream down his face and hers, “cancer. I’ll have to..”

Before he could finish the sentence, she closed the last steps and kissed him. She felt as though she was breaking through the surface and breathing again after being held too long under water. Her body reacting in ways that released a passion for him that she had almost forgotten existed. A kiss that told him he was wanted, needed, desired.

They made love all night long. Laughing, kissing, sucking, and fucking with a passion and excitement that consumed them.

As the morning light revealed their naked bodies, wrapped haphazardly in the sheets of the wrecked bed, she just looked at him and prayed, “dear god, please never take him from me.”
 
a79c42adf79b972f5df73969e20565fac11cf82e.gifv


It took every ounce of restraint not to rush to the front room when she heard the door snick open and his familiar footsteps in the hallway. She knew she needed to wait, to let him come to her, but the stress of the last few months made waiting these last few seconds so difficult.

Slowly she stood, almost counting the pace so that they would meet near the middle of the house. Their eyes met, hers searching his for any clue as to the answer.

He looked tired, stressed, challenged. His expression gave her no clue as to the outcome. But she could not bring herself to ask, to open Schrodinger’s Box. At this minute he was alive, and knowing the future could destroy that.

She held her breath as his eyes met hers. Her heart pounding both desperately needing to know the answer and dreading the horrible possibilities that it held in store.

“It’s not…” his voice broke as the tears began to stream down his face and hers, “cancer. I’ll have to..”

Before he could finish the sentence, she closed the last steps and kissed him. She felt as though she was breaking through the surface and breathing again after being held too long under water. Her body reacting in ways that released a passion for him that she had almost forgotten existed. A kiss that told him he was wanted, needed, desired.

They made love all night long. Laughing, kissing, sucking, and fucking with a passion and excitement that consumed them.

As the morning light revealed their naked bodies, wrapped haphazardly in the sheets of the wrecked bed, she just looked at him and prayed, “dear god, please never take him from me.”
Such a perfect reminder of how quickly things could change and what the fear of losing someone can remind us of. Simply beautiful @lakesailer_mi 💕
 
Me, with my headphones on fully blocking outside sound, wearing my workout legging and a sports bra. My hair is in a ponytail, disheveled from my exercise. I have just completed my weight lifting where you watched from the door frame. Today's focus was on our "booty" so exercise included Romanian Dead Lifts, and pulsing squats. Now sweating and heart racing it's onto yoga. As I work through my warrier sequence, I come to an extended downward dog where you can no longer silently watch from afar. Approaching me from behind, you put your hands on my hips and pull yourself into my pose so I fully feel your how hard you have become through the thin fabric of my yoga pants.
As I rise up, you slide the pants from my hips and slide your fingers to my mound. My moan of pleasure quickens your pace as your fingers find what they are seeking. Still standing, I am leaning back into you, my arms reaching to you to help steady me.
As the waves of orgasm overtake me, you push my torso forward, bending me in half, giving you access to plunge into me from behind.
Hands gripping my hips, you greedily quicken the pace. Quicker and quicker the sounds of our bodies slamming into each other, connecting on a primal level.
When the angle of your thrusts hits that magical spot my body shudders violently sending me into that tidal wave of pleasure. Over and over again the orgasms melt into a single intense moment as you continue the assault.
Your strength and power overtakes the act as you release deep into me, the pulsing grip of my orgasm sending you over the edge.
Completely spent, legs shaking, unable to form coherent sentences I collapse onto the floor.
Gently you lean over and kiss me for the first time whispering in my ear, "good morning, darling." And walk away, leaving me to my puddle of bliss.

Nicely written,thanks. But
This pic and the description is better than the 1000 words
 
https://www.sex.com/pin/27014140-august-ames/
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“I’m taking you out to celebrate!” Her enthusiastic invitation and bright smile lit up his face.

“You don’t…” he began, hoping she would regardless.

“Come on, you deserve a drink! That is a major accomplishment and you’ve worked so long and “ she giggled, “so hard for it.” Her voice was low and sultry.

He loved it when she flirted and teased him, no one ever really had before. For the first time in his life, he felt wanted, needed and desired by a woman. And he wanted and needed her at least as much.

The walked to the local pub, full of TV’s but largely empty on a Tuesday night. Finding two seats together at the far end of the bar he ordered his usual scotch, and she ordered a painkiller. They chatted and flirted and as the first drink gave way to the second and third, her hands were all over him.

Stroking his cock through his tan slacks, he was hard and straining at the fabric.

“Unzip it” she whispered into his ear as she leaned against him in a way that gave him privacy.

He looked at her with shock, but she met his stare and whispered again, slightly more commandingly, “unzip.”

Careful not to be seen, he unzipped his trousers.

“Good boy” she whispered, “now turn and face me.”

Knowing he needed this as much as she wanted to give it to him, he turned, facing down the long, nearly empty bar. Slowly she feed his cock from the bondage of his pants and looking him right in the eye she began to stroke him. Her fingers massaging him as only she could.

She leaned forward on the bar, resting on her elbow and held his other hand. Licking her lips in the way he knew meant she was as excited as he was.

It really only took a little bit. The excitement of the day, the naughtiness of the public display, and her excitement and beauty quickly had spurts of cum erupting from his cock. She giggled and moaned as it did.

“Good boy” she cooed as she licked the cum from her fingers.
 
https://www.sex.com/pin/27014140-august-ames/
10502512.jpg



“I’m taking you out to celebrate!” Her enthusiastic invitation and bright smile lit up his face.

“You don’t…” he began, hoping she would regardless.

“Come on, you deserve a drink! That is a major accomplishment and you’ve worked so long and “ she giggled, “so hard for it.” Her voice was low and sultry.

He loved it when she flirted and teased him, no one ever really had before. For the first time in his life, he felt wanted, needed and desired by a woman. And he wanted and needed her at least as much.

The walked to the local pub, full of TV’s but largely empty on a Tuesday night. Finding two seats together at the far end of the bar he ordered his usual scotch, and she ordered a painkiller. They chatted and flirted and as the first drink gave way to the second and third, her hands were all over him.

Stroking his cock through his tan slacks, he was hard and straining at the fabric.

“Unzip it” she whispered into his ear as she leaned against him in a way that gave him privacy.

He looked at her with shock, but she met his stare and whispered again, slightly more commandingly, “unzip.”

Careful not to be seen, he unzipped his trousers.

“Good boy” she whispered, “now turn and face me.”

Knowing he needed this as much as she wanted to give it to him, he turned, facing down the long, nearly empty bar. Slowly she feed his cock from the bondage of his pants and looking him right in the eye she began to stroke him. Her fingers massaging him as only she could.

She leaned forward on the bar, resting on her elbow and held his other hand. Licking her lips in the way he knew meant she was as excited as he was.

It really only took a little bit. The excitement of the day, the naughtiness of the public display, and her excitement and beauty quickly had spurts of cum erupting from his cock. She giggled and moaned as it did.

“Good boy” she cooed as she licked the cum from her fingers.
I am surprised you remembered my drink order from that night. 💕🤭
 
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