Change Partners

by Cathryn Cooper

  ‘What a thought,’ he’d exclaimed.

  ‘A truth,’ she’d retorted. She’d taken a deep breath and smelt his freshness, the crispness of a body after the invigoration of a cleansing shower.

  The sweat was gone and, in a way, she regretted that. There was arousal in masculine sweat, its identity heavy with the hormones that gave drive to his muscles and semen to her womb. It had a voice, she decided, it said, ‘I am male. Taste me.’

  From the very first sight of him, she had wanted to taste him. Oh, yes, she had wanted to taste him alright.

  He had asked her how she intended seducing him and where.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you,’ she’d replied. ‘I’m going to creep up on you and surprise you when you least expect it.’ She would have gone on, and so would he. He had been like a jackdaw blinded by her glitter. The sin of covetousness was on his face. It had touched his flesh.

  Then Thomas, her husband, had come looking for her.

  But it wasn’t all bad. Mariana and Jamie, who she and Thomas already knew, had also joined them.

  A kind of sticky companionship had evolved at that moment. Before long they were talking business, dinner parties and meeting in the changing room at the country club.

  The first dinner for the six of them was a candle-lit, atmospheric affair at the home of Jamie and Mariana.

  In the glow of candlelight, Crystal had read the desire in Michael’s eyes.

  Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it had been her limited vision in the candlelight, but she was sure Michael had looked on his wife with a certain disdain. And did he talk o/his wife rather than to her?

  She had decided at that moment that Michael was a man with a wife who was both a business and social asset, but not necessarily a sexual one. Candlelight and heady wine had made her premise appear to be truth. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  She tried not to dwell on it.

  In her mind she looked for the right signs to set her thinking straight.

  Like a video on fast forward, her thoughts travelled onwards to other occasions when everything seemed to be going her way.

  She remembered one night in particular. They were out on the patio at Michael and Josie’s home. Warm sensations had spread from the palm and fingers that Michael had laid over one of her buttocks.

  The sound of clattering cutlery was coming from the kitchen because Josie was filling the dishwasher. Thomas had gone to the bathroom. Jamie and Mariana were giving each other meaningful looks in the drawing room. Mariana was sat on the settee and was tapping fiercely at her knees in a constant spanking movement.

  Jamie’s eyes had been wide as saucers and his lips had been continually wetted by his flicking tongue.

  Michael had followed Crystal out onto the patio. ‘Let me fuck you,’ Michael had asked quietly.

  Crystal had sighed. She had been wondering how long it would take him to get round to propositioning her. She had also wondered what words he would use. She had now found out. Not love, not let’s meet and have a few drinks, a meal by candlelight - a prelude to the main act. He had said exactly what they both wanted. Passion had blazed in his eyes. He wanted her. Her. Not just for physical relief, not like Thomas who might as well have been making love to a vacuum cleaner. He wanted to make love to her.

  ‘Then fuck me,’ she had replied in a low, husky voice, then she groaned as his hand had squeezed her behind.

  Behind her towelling mask, Crystal remembered and murmured sweet sounds through closed lips.

  Memory was not always reliable, but in her case she remembered every little detail.

  ‘When?’ he had asked.

  ‘When you least expect it,’ she had answered. ‘Just as I promised you.’

  ‘Wow!’ He had said it very softly, but threw back his head and closed his eyes as if already savouring a moment that had not come. ‘I remember you saying that. I dreamt about it that night.’

  ‘Did you fuck your wife on the strength of it?’

  He paused. She had sensed a certain reluctance to betray what was, after all, a close confidence. But eventually he did reply.

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  ‘But it wasn’t her was it? It was her body beneath you, but in your mind it was me.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly. She shivered as his lips kissed her neck. ‘Yes. It was you.’

  Just as she had promised, Crystal surprised him.

  There was an extra thrill in doing it in the men’s changing room - not the modern one everyone now used which was integral with the main building, but the separate one behind the ancillary squash courts. Nowadays they were used only for overflow.

  It had been very busy that day, so Michael and his partner for squash had been obliged to use the old changing room.

  Crystal had watched Michael from the moment his car had pulled up outside, yet she had kept out of sight. She had followed the mud path that led behind the main building then ran down a steep slope to the back of the old changing rooms.

  Taking great care not to be seen, she waited until Michael’s squash partner had left.

  As her pulse rate began to increase, she started counting. One, two, three, four. She had counted off the seconds in her mind. She had carefully judged the moment when he would be naked in the privacy of the old changing rooms. Then she went in.

  He had turned quickly at the sound of her. Even now she could still see in her mind the look of surprise on his face, the wide eyes and open jaw, the sudden flexing of his penis.

  He did not move. He did not say anything. He had kept his eyes fixed on her.

  He had waited for her to approach, for her to make the first move.

  She remembered how her eyes had dropped to his penis which swelled and reared beneath her gaze. Judging by its movements, Michael had been anticipating where his weapon would shortly be.

  Naked, glistening with sweat, his scent compelling rather than offensive, he had moved towards her and kissed her.

  Her flesh had been ignited with the scent and the feel of his nakedness.

  Her fingernails had dug into his bare shoulders and he had yelled out, then clasped her more fiercely, more closely.

  Her mouth had clung to his and sucked in the salty dew that lay on his upper lip. She felt the tip of his erect penis knock against her belly and she ran her hands down to clutch at it, to pull on it.

  ‘I want it,’ she had whispered, her voice echoing around the tinny emptiness of the whitewashed room.

  His lips had suddenly left her.

  ‘Wait. I need a shower. Will you join me?’

  Crystal remembered she had murmured a throaty response. She was running her mouth and her teeth along from his neck to his shoulder as he said this, so his words were lost against her hair.

  Before she answered, she had gripped him more tightly. ‘No.’ Her voice had been hushed, heavy with desire. ‘No. At least not yet. Let me have you as you are. Let me have you smelling naturally.’

  He had held her chin between his fingers and lifted it.

  She had liked the feel of his thumb pressing against her skin as her eyes had met his and her lips had parted. How striking his eyes had seemed, how straight his nose, how dark his hair and his eyebrows. Classic features. Michael always had a blue-black shadow over his chin, his cheeks, and his upper lip. It was never entirely absent from his face except in that short period immediately after shaving.

  ‘I love the smell of you,’ she had whispered as his hand roved over her thin cotton top.

  She had groaned with pleasure, desire making her body sway against him as he lifted her tee shirt. Her skin burned as his palms ran up over her bare flesh.

  ‘You feel good,’ he had said to her, and she had tingled. ‘Just as I thought you would. Just as I’ve imagined since the very first time
I met you.’

  There was a long wooden bench in the centre of the changing room. Behind and above it was a row of coat hooks.

  Crystal gently eased herself out of his embrace, stood on the bench, and made a show of removing her top. As she did so, she tossed her long cloud of hair. Her breasts bounced and her nipples grew.

  Except for his pulsating penis, Michael stood still and silent. Dark-lashed, his eyes noted each curve of her body, each breast, the definition of her collarbone, the dark mole on her left shoulder.

  He had glanced briefly at the door as footsteps went past outside.

  ‘I took the precaution of locking us in,’ she told him. ‘Who cares!’ he murmured. His eyes did not leave her body.

  Smiling and wriggling her slim hips and round bottom, Crystal slid her white linen shorts down to her ankles. Her white trainers followed.

  Hips undulating, body trembling, she had spread her arms along the row of coat hooks hanging there like some crucified offering. Her body had been ablaze with desire. ‘Kiss me.’ She had said it softly, invitingly, expectantly. Michael had reached for her. With trembling fingers, his hands had grasped her hips before running in smooth, sweeping strokes down her thighs and on down her legs.

  He had kissed her knees first then, with his tongue, he had traced hot lines over first one thigh, then the other. As she bent her knees, his tongue had prodded her belly, penetrated her navel.

  Above him, she had groaned, tossing her head and letting it drop forward. Her hair fell over him like a perfumed veil. It tickled his shoulders as his hands had grasped her swaying hips and his tongue licked flat her crisp, pubic hair.

  Contained within the confines of her hair, his scent wafted up to her. Urged by the probing of his tongue as it prodded into the place where her sexual lips began, she opened her legs.

  She heard him moan as he drank in her scent and his tongue travelled further. The roughness of his chin scratched pleasurably against the smoothness of her inner thighs. His tongue was hard and wet as it wove its way through the petals of satin-soft flesh that enclosed her clitoris and ran through to her vagina.

  So delicate were his probings, so accurate in their hunt for her most responsive flesh, she had to stand on tiptoe to accommodate it better.

  When his lips had at last kissed her belly, she had known that the first chapter of their copulation was over.

  He had lifted her down so that she was still clasping the coat hooks. She was stretched out between them and him, her legs wound around his waist. He had her fully extended so that her separated thighs fitted nicely over his pelvis and his erection.

  Dizzy with pleasure, she felt his penis, hard and hot, pressing against her sex, its tip nudging aside the cheeks of her behind.

  Gripping her legs with his arms, he had reached for her breasts. He squeezed and she cried out. She recalled feeling as if two iron vices had been fixed over her breasts or, more accurately, as if they had been forced into a bra two sizes too small.

  Friction was awakening all the nerve ends along her channel. Spirals of delight were sparking outwards and upwards, coating her body with an invisible cloak of sexual lust.

  ‘Please!’ she had cried, her voice full of the pain of wanting, of desiring.

  He had seemed to know instantly what she was feeling. He grasped her waist, jerked her body so that she let go of the hooks she was holding and her feet regained the ground.

  Running her hands down his back, she drank in the perfume of his maleness, and lay her cheek against the sculptured hardness of his pectoral muscles.

  At the time she had wanted to explore him further with her mouth and drink in the stronger smell that congregated around his genitals, but his voice had been urgent against her ear.

  ‘I can’t wait. I have to have you now!’

  With his assistance, she had lain down on the bench so that her legs were dropped to each side and her sex was exposed to his view.

  She looped her arms behind her so that her breasts were thrust forward and became more approachable for his mouth and his hands.

  Gripping the bench on either side of her head, he had positioned himself very accurately and very carefully.

  Arching her back, Crystal had levelled herself with the tip of his rod. She breathed heavily and murmured long and low. Her juices had trickled like honey from her vagina, seeping stickily down her inner thighs.

  She had seen the intensity in his eyes, the slight looseness of his jaw as he began to ease himself into her.

  ‘At last!’ He said the two words in one rushed breath. ‘At last I am fucking you! At last!’

  Her breasts had trembled with each thrust of his loins.

  Their bellies met and made sucking noises as she brought her hips up to meet him. Desire ran through her like molten silver.

  He had lain heavy on her when he came. He had mouthed expletives against her ear, words Thomas never used. Those words had made her want him to fuck her more, to bury her beneath him, for him to press her hard against the bench and to will her to come, to buck against him until the last eddy of pleasure was over and done with.

  She had done just that. Her body had writhed with desire. Each organ within her, each nerve ending seemed to cry out with the unspeakable pleasure of it all.

  No matter that she cried out for him not to stop, to keep doing it to her, to not do it to her, to do it harder, to do it softer, her cry was like pain, but also like pleasure.

  And thus passed our first orgasm, she thought to herself as she lay soaking in her bath and, as is the way of such things, her thoughts went on to the second time.

  In the shower afterwards, they had done it again. This time she had soaped him first until his body was covered with a white film of spuming lather.

  She then knelt down in front of him so she could lather his penis and his behind more liberally before the running water and her tongue licked it all away.

  Spray had soaked her hair and left it in gleaming rats tails. She had tilted her head back as far as it could go, looked up at him, moved her head forward and taken his balls into her mouth.

  His erection had grown again. His flesh had pulsated with life as new fluid had been pumped along its length.

  Almost, she thought to herself, he almost came into my mouth, but he stopped himself.

  ‘Not yet,’ he had murmured, his jaw more firm, his desire more controlled. ‘I want to fuck you again. This time I want to take you from behind.’

  Gently, he had taken hold of her shoulders and raised her to her feet.

  After kissing her lips, he had turned her away from him.

  For a moment he had moulded the front of his body to the back of hers. Then he had pushed her head forward until she was bending away from him. Only his thighs had touched her then, and his penis and his pubic hair.

  As the water ran over her head and through her hair, he steadied himself. The head of his penis divided her sex lips as with a groan Michael pushed himself into her for the second time.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as the water from the shower head ran over her hair and down her face.

  Michael had held her hips tightly as he eased her gently backwards and forwards to meet his hard member. His balls had slapped softly against her, and pubic hair slid like wet clay over and between her buttocks.

  Being fully aware of the finer features of orgasm, Crystal had slid her hand between her legs and played in fairylike softness with her throbbing clitoris.

  Thrilling sensations ran as quickly over her body as the water from the shower.

  The sheer intensity of her climax had made her legs shake and she had cried out those unintelligible yet telling sounds that had left Michael in no doubt that she had come.

  Eventually, he too cried out as his weapon pumped its essence into her. After that, his sem
en and the washed-off soap had mingled and run together down the plughole.

  In the privacy of her mind, as she lay flat and sweating in the bath, Crystal came to no hard and fast conclusion about her relationship with Michael.

  All she did know was that having it the first time with him had made a deep impression on her. There had been something almost virginal about it. It had been as though she had given herself for the very first time. It had been nothing like that when she really had experienced sex for the very first time.

  His name was not important. Just as well, she couldn’t remember it. But she did recall his rushed breathing, his sweating brow and his tunnelling fingers beneath the crotch of her knickers.

  Only because it was the first time and her libido had been aching to be satisfied had she taken off her pants and let his youthful tool into her virgin chamber.

  Amazed at its heat and its hardness, she had gripped his penis and steered it more skilfully into her. The youth had groaned and come into her hand. She had been angry but, being young, his penis had not remained flaccid for long. Again, this time without the aid of her willing fingers, he had thrust himself into her.

  There had been a slight tightening inside her as the head of his weapon had butted her hymen. The barrier had been breached. The tightness had been fleeting. He was in her and she had raised herself to meet him.

  Later that night in bed, she thought again about that first time with Michael.

  As she lay in the darkness, she tried transposing the man beside her with the one in her brain. It didn’t work.

  Sighing, she pulled herself as close to the edge of the bed as possible, snuggled into her pillow and fell asleep, still thinking of Michael.

  Lying beside her, Thomas was also awake. Crystal had been with another man again. He knew all the signs and also knew there was something different about this one.

  He sighed and felt happier than he had for a very long time.

  Chapter 14

  There was a spot in the forest where Josie like to walk and make quick sketches that she could convert into watercolours when she got back to her studio.