Dec 092013

I looked at my friend and took his hand, leading him up the stairs. “We’re going to shower, and then we’re going to fuck,” I stated simply.

He laughed. “You talked me into it,” a common expression of his, as he was good for anything I’d ever suggested.

I also laughed, headed into the guest bedroom he was staying in. “Damn, you’re sure playing hard to get. Can you make it any more challenging?” I stripped off of my clothes, not paying too much attention to slowly or sensually removing them. Taking a cue off of me, he undressed as well. I walked past him, smiling, and headed into the shower. I was in it before he even followed into the room. He moved the shower curtain aside, just watched me as the water poured down my body, before joining me.

There was a lot of tension, as we stood there in there in the shower fully naked, facing each other. We had never been alone and naked for one. For another, we were moving a long term friendship into something more for truly the first time. I was the first to break eye contact and moved past him, allowing him in the hot stream of water.  I grabbed at the body soap and spread some on my hands, cleaning my body methodically. Again, I could’ve easily have moved slowly and sensually, gliding the slippery soap  around my curves and crevices with hands or fingertips, could’ve easily had given a seductive look, watching him the whole time I touched myself. But no, I was all business for some reason – perhaps part nerves and part impatience to be on the bed.

He offered to wash my back, and I accepted the offer. His hands moved sensually across my skin, and he complimented how sexy my back looked. I offered to wash back, and when I realized I was doing it methodically, I slowed my movements, used harder touches like a massage, softer barely there gossamer strokes, and nails, creating a myriad of sensations on his back. After I rinsed off, I stepped out of the shower and threw my robe around me. I waited for him to follow my lead and handed him a towel.

And led him into the bedroom. Deciding on sexy or playful with those few steps, I decided on playful as I threw off my robe and bounced myself onto the bed, fully naked. I held out my arms and gestured him into them.

The minute he came down alongside me, nervousness dissipated. My arms wound their way around his shoulders and I kissed him, turning into him to try to mold my body against his. We didn’t come together as two adults in control and smoothly demonstrating passion; we came together and made out with all the finesse as teenagers.

He was impatient to begin, more so than me perhaps. Leaning away from the kiss, he moved his lips to my neck, his hot breath skimming across the surface, the coarseness of his facial hair scraping before lips and tongue made contact – making the skin even more sensitive, sending goose bumps down my body. He didn’t stay long, just merely passing through, on his way to one nipple, then the other. He wound his tongue around, denying the small bud of sensation, glanced up as his tongue flicked the tip, then his mouth crashed upon it and he sucked, his hand holding the breast steady or kneading from time to time. I arched, wanting the pressure to increase.  He increased it, again following my unspoken demands. And then moved onto the next one, this time keeping the suction to exactly what I wanted it.

Veering down, kissing the trail, he positioned himself between my spread legs. He gently licked the innermost part of my left thigh, then breathed his way across, the soft sensation of his breath making my already wet sex and clit tingle in anticipation. Repeating the same soft caress of tongue, he tormented the inner most part of my other thigh, coming so very close to my lips with every sweep of mouth. Whether he intended to complete the act he was alluding to or not, I was tormented, and shifted my hips and moaned my encouragement when his lips softly kissed the outside of sex, his tongue gently sweeping between my lips and up to my clit, the two side metal piercings in his tongue a contrasting feel to the soft tongue. The moan that escaped my lips was no encouragement, but an affirmation of how amazing that felt, and he continued with the motion a few times, before delving deeper into my sex. I gasped in pleasure, and found myself arching my hips, tried to make it easier access for his talented mouth.

His mouth created the most exquisite sensations between my lips, and my body responded so strongly. I had the urge to lick clean my lust upon his lips and from the bristles of his facial hair; I had more desires than that. Impatient, I grabbed his head, and asked for him be inside of me.

Ever so compliant, he moved off of the bed to put on a condom. I laid there as patiently as I could, trepidation suddenly hit me. This was new territory, a new boundary being crossed. I didn’t want to disappoint what he may have built up in his head, I didn’t want this to ruin the friendship we were to go back to. But I wanted, needed, him inside of me.

Part passionate tension wanting release, mostly curiosity, urged me to continue down this road hinted and spoke about so much. And then he was back in my arms, positioning himself at my entrance, slowly easing himself past my protective lips that his tongue had seduced open, entering my inner most depth, the speed cautious and cruel to a body already on fire. And while the pace allowed for every inch of him to be felt inside of me, I needed that overwhelming fervor. He moved faster, and I groaned at the sensation, sank himself deeper and I found myself catching my breath. I demanded he not stop, encouraged him to go harder and faster.

He stopped, but only moved my legs over his shoulders before continuing. Keeping the pace I preferred, I found myself climaxing. I heard his moan and short breaths, every exhale making a soft noise that excited my own pleasure, and then it was his noises that I tuned into, until finally he came.

He leaned back, exiting my body, and laid alongside me. I put a hand on his chest, listening to his breathing pattern, feeling his heartbeat, and feeling quite content. In just a few moments, his fingers sought my skin, and he stroked up and down the length of me, followed the contours and curves, grazed a hardened nipple, slid along my slick sex, rubbed against my clit on the path up and down.

Not stopping his exploration with his hand, he placed another condom on, then rolled onto me; lips met lips as he kissed me while his rigid shaft easily slid inside my warmth.  I focused on the feel of his body, gripped when he retreated, welcomed when he returned. The pace was as if we didn’t have the briefest span of a break, he stopped me short of cumming several times, my pleasure built. My hips rose. My breath shortened. I clenched. Begged. Cursed. Came.

 Posted by at 8:27 pm

  2 Responses to “Moving Beyond Friendship”

  1. You handled that far better than I would have! I get extra clumsy when I’m nervous, not to mention extra modest *laughs* I’m glad it was a positive experience for you two.

  2. Great piece, beautifully written!

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