After a night of drinking, partying and odd flirting, a man sees his best friend laying passed out with his girlfriend on their bed. As he moves to turn off the light and close their door, he suddenly gets other ideas.
Message From The Soup (Author’s Note) : For all those whom used to read my work and were disappointed when I abruptly quit in the middle of a series, I apologize but I shall attempt to erectify the situation by finishing the “I Caught Mom or Did She Catch Me” series and starting a completely new one that I hope you’ll like. Please feel free to leave your critique! I’m comment friendly :)
Perhaps she smiled too often as she sauntered around every room. Perhaps her affinity to stare into the depths of my soul with her piercing hazel eyes as she playfully removed a bang of her auburn hair sent a signal that I misread. Perhaps it was her pension for strutting around in her skimpy Minnie Mouse shorts that barely covered her rounded, thong-clad rump or her paper thin shirt she enjoyed wearing braless in order to expose her shapely D-Cup bosom. Perhaps she lingered too long when reaching over me, and I became intoxicated with the fresh Orchid Scent of her playfully curly hair or the feel of her shapely body brushing up against mine ever so gently. Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps not. It quickly mattered not why this was happening. Was there a reason? Was there an excuse? A bit of both? Soon only one question remained.
By what right? Under which pretense did I suppose that I could do what I was doing? By what right did I lay my hands upon her body? How could I claim that which was already earned? I stared down onto the floor bed and marveled. She lay there curled and softly snoring, the curvature of her hips proudly on display. Hips that extended into a perfect set of endless legs with near flawless light skin. My eyes traveled the length of her, and once again stopped on her petite set of feet. There they lingered as I studied each well kempt crimson toenail. My body was no longer my own as my arm reached out and my fingers extended. Her toes curled lightly as I slightly brushed against them. Immediately I retreated. I hadn’t earned the softness of her skin against mine. I returned to studying her curvature, admiring the perfection of her imperfect frame, watching, wondering, daring. Then began the two betrayals.
My body would no longer listen to the signals I was trying to send it. As if possessed, I no longer could admire her body from afar. What was once acquaintance became passion, what was once a passing glance became a blatant stare, and what was once a boundary became a goal post. By what right did I approach her? Ever so gently and slowly so as to not stir her I inched towards her and lowered myself. My senses began to increase, my body grew warmer as my eyes darted in three directions intermittently to avoid discovery. I reached out again and she stirred. I moved quickly into an acceptable position and waited for what seemed like hours but was merely a couple of minutes. She quickly returned to snoring without another noise or movement. I inched myself back into position and reached out. Her legs, which had captivated me the entire night, were soft yet firm. My eyes continued to dart, unwilling to allow myself to be caught in such a position. There wasn’t a single stir. Emboldened by my success, I gently caressed up and down the length of her perfectly shaved beige legs. Her breathing grew heavier as my motions became more deliberate. It grew heavier still as my fingers found their way to their first resistance, her seductive shorts, and slipped under them.
By what right was I enjoying the tantalizing curvature of her ass? By what right was I boldly and intently squeezing and caressing each ample globe? Those questions and their answers were taken from me as her increasingly heavy breaths slowly turned into the softest of moans. She is enjoying this, I rationalized. It was clearly a sign that I should continue my violation of her soft globes. But how could she know what she was enjoying? How could she know that she was being kneaded and massaged by me? Why would anyone dare to touch that which had been claimed for eleven years? It was clearly not the day for questions as a loud snore and a stir brought me back to reality.
I remained, my hands frozen on her soft, plump posterior. I had somehow forgotten. At some point the darting of my eyes had slowed to a standstill and made me forget where I was, whom I was with and whom was with her. My best friend had been laying there the entire time right next to us, passed out from a drinking competition with me. I chuckled internally momentarily as I considered the dark idea that I was claiming my prize for victory, but I quickly returned to the main objective. My hand still remained on that which belonged to him; that which he treasured most; and lightly began to caress again. His eyes remained closed and his snoring resumed. My focus returned to the snoring moans I had been so captivated by mere seconds earlier. Soon though, even they weren’t enough.
By what right? My internal monologue continued. By what right are my fingers slowly caressing her soft lips through her shorts? Her breathing quickly turned from soft moans and snores to light gasps. What was only supposed to be a gentle caress became a concentrated attack. I used my thumb only to alternate between stimulating her soft mons and her surprisingly stiff clit. I thought I had lost my mind as I felt her slowly push back against the motions of my thumb. I couldn’t fathom what her womanhood felt like directly, I couldn’t dare. Perhaps there was still time to stop, perhaps I hadn’t gone too far. I knew I couldn’t touch her most precious place. The place that she had kept hidden from all but the man sleeping next to her. The man who trusted me more than anyone in the world. Her decision was clearly made. So by what right then, did my fingers slip back under her shorts? Questions and answers never returned to me, only lust.
She moaned softly as my expert fingers slowly traversed and caressed her outer lips. If I hadn’t been hard this entire time I definitely was now. The mere heat coming from her nether regions was enough to salivate over, but something else was far more alarming. The moisture I felt as I slowly felt along the entirety of her opening immediately soaked both of my fingers. Had she been enjoying a couple of minutes that intensely? Was she always this moist? Did she get this moist for him? How would she taste? With my mind completely lost, I placed my fingers at her entrance and slowly started to push.
A stir. A cough. A bark. Perhaps individually they would be meaningless, but the cacophony of their sound was enough to wake Sleeping Beauty. I moved quickly, and as I did I took my fingers into my mouth and savored her tart yet almost sweet flavor and knew I needed more. I realized that I had no right, only a desire. But did that desire just lead me to disaster? They slowly rose…
To Be Continued
[Author Request]
I put this on the bottom so you could read and respond but I purposefully didn’t use the names in this piece because I thought it might immerse you and make you feel like you were the main character a bit. Did that stick or do you like names?
The rest of the story is much more involved and will have longer chapters so speak now or be cursed! jk :)
Besides that thanks for reading! I have a lot more coming soon!