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I first wrote this story in 2003, and it reads as written by a far more naïve me, so I left most of that there (nostalgia, I’m full of it). It’s less graphic than some of my current works, more erotic perhaps? The intervening years have modified my perspective on sexual activity, opened my view? Either way, I have several of these gems lounging about, and I’ll be going through them, keeping them mostly intact and publishing them as I can. E
The hour had grown late and one by one our group of friends excused themselves, retiring to their respective campers, tents and cabins. From a party of nine, we were reduced to five, then four, three and then finally, we two who would not give up the game.
Seated in the screen tent assembled earlier in the day by the engineering-minded males in our group and decorated to resemble a Nevada bordello with suspended lights and sheer curtains by certain female members, only a male friend and I remained as the day grew older. Again and again, we shuffled the dominos, both intent upon winning, intent more upon the tiles in front of us than who remained to keep us company.
Occasionally I would raise my eyes to meet his, trying to read the reflection of his hand in those deep blue eyes. He would catch me and smile; a friendly, teasing grin that I readily responded to.
The campfire had burned low, embers glowing from beyond the zipped screen of our tent. I chugged the remains of my beer bottle and raised it, questioning whether he required a refill.
“Sure, if you’d grab one for me that would be great.” He gestured with his elbow, studying the layout before him, contemplating his next move.
“Okay, but the next round is on you.” I stood up, aware of the thin cotton of my PJs rubbing on tanned skin. The summer air eddied around us, undecided whether to blow warm or cold, heralding an impending storm.
As I unzipped the screen, a rumble of thunder announced the approach of rain, and I smelled the wetness in the air. Zipping the screen to keep out the mosquitoes was the responsibility of whoever opened it to leave, and I turned to re-zip once I stepped outside.
“I’m grabbing a couple; we may end up trapped in here.” I darted across the grass, already wet with dew and opened the red cooler just outside a friend’s camper. Ice clawed at my fingers as I thrust my hand into the tub, seeking the long neck of a beer bottle. Clasping four bottles in my right hand, I scooped up several pieces of the ice, a half-formed idea blossoming in my mind.
“Knock, knock.” I stood before the tent and announced my return, unable to reopen the door with the booty occupying my hands.
“Yeah, just a second.” He stood fluidly from the bench and strolled over to where I stood. “What’s the password?”
In the dark I could not see the expression in his eyes but the teasing tone in his voice alerted me to his mood.
“How about, ‘Let me in before I kick your butt?'” I responded with a wide smile on my face.
“That’s not exactly what I was anticipating, but okay.” He bent to reach the zipper and I stared at the top of his head, wondering if he would appreciate the joke I planned to play upon him. We shared similar personalities, jokes coming faster than compliments and teasing was the main way we communicated. I had not known him long enough to make a judgment on all elements of his personality, but we responded well to each other on a superficial level.
That might change significantly once I found the courage to drop the ice down the back of his shirt.
He held the flap of the tent back and I ducked under his arm to enter. Closer proximity than usual and I ignored the ripple of unease that flowed through my stomach. Setting the bottles down on the table, I lingered, uncapping one of the bottles for myself and waiting for him to resume his seat. Nervous, shaking hands on the slick bottle; I clutched the ice in my left hand, wondering if he had noticed my awkwardness.
Once again seated and intent again upon the trains of dominos, he didn’t see as I moved closer, bottle held in one hand, ice in the other. There was no need to tiptoe on the grass and I was reminded of my childhood, a stealthy game of kick-the-can with neighborhood friends. Sneaking around the back of the garage and darting across the blacktop to propel the empty coffee can as far as possible, thus freeing my captured partners.
Setting the bottle next to him on the table required leaning close to his body, close enough to smell the chlorine from the pool on his hair and the earthy odor of his white t-shirt.
“Taken a shower lately?” I distracted him with my voice; still close enough to rest my hand on his shoulder. I pivoted away suddenly, slipping the ice, now accompanied by a handful of water, down the back of his t-shirt.
“Shit!” He stood up and danced around the tent, trying to dislodge the ice and water running down his back. “What the hell was that?”
I giggled as I dashed back to the other side Çankaya Rus Escort of the picnic table. “Just thought you might want to cool off. It’s gotten rather steamy in here.”
“You don’t KNOW steamy.” He was perplexed; the puzzled look on his face matched by the unease in his voice. As friends, we maintained a physical distance and now I had crossed that boundary without notifying him first and he was unsure how to respond.
From the comparative safety of my side of the picnic table I gestured towards the top of the table, “Are you going to sputter all night or play?”
“Play, of course.” He sank back down, shaking his shirt in a vain attempt to dry it. A wide grin split my face as I watched him process the event, his head shaking from side to side, attempting to deny my impetuous behavior.
He tipped the beer bottle up, taking a long drink and I found myself fascinated by the swallowing motions of his throat. The atmosphere had become charged in some way, whether from the electricity generated by the approaching storm or my actions, and I busied myself playing my turn. Shaken by the change in our relationship put into place by my action, I was unable to return to the comfortable familiarity of earlier in the evening.
Silence joined us, both simply moving the dominos around the table in an attempt to recapture the spirit of the game. I felt the hardness of my nipples against the fabric of my pajama top and rested my arm against the table, ineffectively trying to recover my modesty. Half of an hour ago I was perfectly comfortable with my lack of clothing but now I wished for the armor of a bra and jeans.
Wondering if he had noticed that I wore nothing but a sheer cotton top and shorts, aware that he retained some dignity in his daily clothes while I felt exposed, nearly naked. For some reason that feeling was rapidly joined by a sense of arousal and I shuddered in confusion. This was a man I regarded as a friend, almost a brother, and desire had never been a component of our relationship. Until now. At least on my part, I made no effort to ascertain whether or not he felt the same. Retreat seemed the safest option and I began to make a serious effort to end the game.
“Getting tired?” I asked innocently, laying down my dominos in rapid response to his.
“Not really.” His voice was relaxed, smooth and unconcerned. “Are you going to chicken out on me? I thought we were playing to 500 points and we’re only at 300.” I met his gaze, noting the raised eyebrows and challenge in his eyes.
Shit. I didn’t want to have to hang around for another 200 points but if I backed out now, the rest of the group would hear about my defeat. Upon a moment’s reflection, I decided that perhaps that would be the wisest choice I could make.
“Yeah.” I made an effort to yawn, stretching my arms above my head. His eyes traveled from my face to chest in slow motion and I swiftly settled my arms across my breasts. “I’m feeling pretty tired. I don’t mind cutting out now and letting you claim victory.”
“Victory, hmmm.” He pondered this, tapping his forefinger against his lips as he spoke. “That usually implies some sort of forfeiture on your part.”
“I’m letting you win, isn’t that enough?” Outrage permeated my voice and I stared into his face across the table. “You get to do the victory dance tomorrow morning in front of everyone, okay?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He slipped the wet shirt from his back in one swift movement. “You still have this to apologize for.” Flapping it in my face before tossing it onto the grass behind him.
Fascinated by his bold move, I kept my eyes trained on his face, ignoring the expanse of bare skin now visible. ‘Get over it’, whispered the voice in my head. ‘You’ve seen more of his skin at the river dozens of times.’ Rebuttal echoed swiftly, ‘But that’s with other half naked people around too.’ I protested to myself internally, ‘This is different.’
Just how different became more apparent when he rose from the table, his athletic grace captivating my gaze. “I owe you an ice cube or two.” Speechless, I watched him stride from the tent, leaving the side open to encroaching mosquitoes. ‘Run’, whispered that voice in my head. ‘Get out now before you live to regret this evening.’
I watched, fascinated by the sight of his body in jean shorts as he returned, as if I’d never seen it before, holding in his hand a dripping mess of ice. “Your turn.” His voice was husky and I let a small sound of denial escape my lips.
He came closer and I knew that if I could see his eyes they would be a dark, fathomless blue. Dark with the desire that emanated from his skin, surrounding me in heat. I stood in a belated attempt to move out of the way, seeking asylum from the overpowering craving that had robbed me of fear.
“This is so not a good idea.” I protested again, even as he stood in front of me, arm extended, water dripping to Keçiören Rus Escort the dry ground. My arms remained crossed over my chest and the heat from my face threatened to set fire to the blond hair that swirled around my head.
“I’m not so sure that I agree with you. I think it’s a fantastic idea.” He held the ice in his left hand and pulled me towards him with the right. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“But you have more water than ice.” I saw his hand come up and reach around my back before I registered his intention. A quick snap of my shorts and the feel of the ice sliding down my boy shorts was joined by the screech that left my lips.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I danced, shaking the shorts, feeling the wet envelop my skin. The cold was too much to bear, and I ripped the flannel shorts from my body. “Damnit, now they’re soaking.” I took my turn flapping them in his face before tossing them to the grass, feet stomping in fury.
Anger soared as his hand slipped across my hips. “Aren’t you going to take this off too?” Gesturing to the moss green boy shorts that remained, covering my bare skin, innocence in his voice.
“No way in hell, game’s over.” I stepped to the side, letting his hand slip from my skin. “It’s time to call it a night.” Sexual tension shrouded the inside of the tent and I needed to breathe the fresh air outside.
Almost as though he had called it up himself, the sky opened up and rain began to pour, turning the campground a few feet away into an unseen entity. Suddenly we existed in a vacuum, no illumination other than the holiday lights above us, flickering in the escalating wind.
“Damnit.” I swore aloud. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I moved to the doorway and considered running in the direction of my cabin. Lightning lit the sky with a crack, illuminating the rivulets of water turning the ground into mud.
From behind me I heard him chuckle. “I certainly could not have planned it better. Why don’t you come back and join me?” Soft and sensuous, his voice poured over me like honey. For my own sanity I could not do as he asked. A girlfriend had warned me years ago that friends do not make good lovers and I had no desire to learn the truth of the matter.
I warned myself that it was the pure lack of sex in my life that made me momentarily consider his offer. After all, sex was sex, was sex; wasn’t it?
I rotated my body to find him directly behind me, arms already encircling my body. His lips were warm on mine, pressing gently; my own pliant under his. In the year of our friendship, I had not noticed how well-shaped his lips were nor imagined how soft they would feel under mine. His tongue slipped between my lips, teasing; lightly teasing a response from me. One hand cupping the back of my neck, the other sliding down to my nearly naked bottom, pressing me against him.
The level of my desire ratcheted up and I laced my fingers behind his head, pulling him closer to me. The hell with friendship, I decided. Sex was what we needed at this moment, and I was not going to pass up this opportunity to explore his body.
“My cabin is closer.” He murmured into my ear. “We won’t get as soaked if we run for it.” His lips trailed across my neck, nibbling at the soft skin down to my shoulder.
“Go, now.” I lifted my head and told him. “I want to go now.” Emphasis on the last word, aware that any delay might cause a change of heart.
We bolted together from the tent, running heedless in the downpour in the direction of his cabin. Up the steps and through the sliding glass door, stopping only once we’d slammed it shut behind us. The freezing air hit me immediately and I began to shiver in the now thoroughly soaked thin cotton shirt. He rummaged through the bathroom and produced a towel with a proud grin. “Here, something dry to put on.”
Too wet to argue, I stripped the shirt from my body and tossed it to the side. My long hair dripped steadily onto the floor as I waited for him to approach with the towel. His blue eyes were riveted on my bare skin, and I found myself stepping closer, in pursuit of the towel or perhaps the warmth of his skin. With a groan, he pulled me to him again and we resumed the search that began only a short time ago. Towel forgotten, it dropped to the floor and his hands roamed over my back and up under the tangle of my wet hair. I was drowning in the kisses that he placed on my lips, aching for his to return when he trailed them down to my collarbone. “Does this place have a bedroom?” I whispered, aware of the glow of lamp illuminating our bodies and the lack of curtains over the windows that surrounded us.
“Yeah, back here.” He propelled me willingly into the back of the cabin and I noticed the neatly made bed before he pulled me down to join him. Rolling onto my side, I tugged gently on his sopping shorts. The button came undone easily as did the zipper but sliding them over his hips Etimesgut Rus Escort proved impossible. Molded by the rain to his skin, they stuck to him, and I soon tired of wrestling with them. “Take these off.” I spoke to the top of his head, feeling his lips as they worked their way across my stomach.
“In a minute.” He protested, mouth grazing the seam of my own wet underwear. “I want these off first.” My hips lifted in agreement, and he slid the pants from my hips. Again, I almost wished to see the expression in his eyes. Darkness hid the embarrassment I felt at baring my body to a man I only knew as a friend from the camping group, and I wondered if he felt any of the same emotion. ‘Probably not’, whispered my best friend, a famous proponent of living life in the moment. ‘He’s a guy and loving every minute of this. Go with the enjoyment and forget the Catholic guilt that haunts you still’.
His mouth returned to my stomach, tongue snaking a trail down to my left thigh and rising again to make a path to the right. I shuddered in anticipation of his mouth moving to the center of my thighs, my hands sliding into his hair, gripping the strong stands between my fingers. When his lips closed in on my center, a groan escaped my lips. It had been way too long since I had been given attention like this and I allowed it to go on for several moments before I wiggled down the bed to where he lay.
“Can it be really soon?” I asked as I rolled him over onto his back, straddling his hips. “I don’t think I can do, like, three hours of foreplay right now.”
“Good choice.” He agreed readily, inching up the bed with me across his stomach to reach into the table next to the bed.
“What a Boy Scout.” I teased, “Always prepared, huh?”
“Shit, no guy over the age of 18 travels without a couple of packages.” He muttered as he fumbled with the foil. “You never know when some chick is gonna rip your pants off and jump ya.”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing here?” I questioned. “And besides, in case you didn’t notice, your pants are still on.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem.” He bucked his hips and I slid off to the side, watching as he fumbled with the wet jeans. “Damn, these are stuck on.”
“Oh no, what’s a poor girl to do?” I mocked softly from my place on the bed. “I wonder if Steve is still up, maybe I can call him up to keep me company until you get those off. Maybe a threesome?” The glare he gave me was answer enough.
I was amazed at how easy it was to tease him, lying naked on his bed knowing that in the morning we would have to face all of our friends — not to mention, more significantly, each other. Secrets were not easy to keep in this group and I wondered how long it would take for him to brag to someone the events of the evening.
Knowing that it would be before breakfast that I would wake up Lauri, asleep right now in the cabin we shared, and tell her. Knowing also that she harbored a not-so-small crush on the man struggling with his pants right now. Knowing that she wouldn’t care that I was here and that she would have to be satisfied with details and not the actual event.
“‘Bout done over there?” I asked, “I’m falling asleep on this really cozy bed.” My eyes were closed, and I didn’t see him jump squarely onto the bed next to me.
“No sleeping, the Boy Scout is fully prepared to ravish you for a couple of hours until dawn arrives.”
“More like a couple of minutes.” I laughed as my arms moved up around his neck and pulled his dark head down to mine.
“You have no idea.” He kissed my lips again and I opened my mouth eagerly for his tongue. Kissing was my favorite part of foreplay and I kept his mouth occupied by mine even as his hands roamed my body, his right hand engaged by the softness of my breast and his left traveling down the place formerly occupied by his mouth.
“I’m ready any time you are.” He pulled his lips from mine for a moment and rolled over. “Woman on top is good for me.”
“Okay.” I agreed and slid down on his stomach until I could reach behind me to grasp his engorged penis. “I forget, where does this go?” Still teasing, my voice husky with desire.
“Shit, girl. Keep holding it and we’ll be done in a few seconds from now.” He groaned as I fondled him, easing him into my body.
“You have no idea how good that feels.” His voice had deepened several octaves when he was able to speak again.
“Oh, I do.” I groaned, rocking my body over his, breasts pressed against his chest, feeling him filling the ache that had taken over my body. Back and forth I moved, letting him slide almost out of my body before I shifted, allowing him back inside.
“Okay, enough woman on top.” He rolled over again, keeping us joined together.
“I can’t take any more.” Increasing the rhythm of movement, burying himself deep inside of me, the orgasms hit me instantly, body arching against him.
I was drowning in a sea of madness; unsure of what he was doing, whether or not we were done or even where I was. Even as I felt him collapse next to me, I could still feel the warmth rolling through my body.
“Damn, that was pretty good.” I gasped, the sweat on my body drying instantly by the air blown from vent right next to me. “Give me a few minutes and we can try that again.”
“Yeah, right.” He chuckled. “I’m over thirty, make it about an hour.”
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