by Ben Boswell
“I would,” he replied with surprising earnestness. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance though.”
It was a conversation stopper. Even Damon seemed to be thinking about what he’d said.
“Are you regretting it yet?” she asked
He looked puzzled.
“Spending time with me talking about heavy shit instead of being in bed with Shelby mashing her big tits?”
“You have nicer breasts than she does.”
Heather laughed. “Oh please. Damon? I wear an A-cup. It’s not even a cup. It’s a triangle of fabric designed to make women like me feel good, so we can wear a bra even though we don’t need one.”
“Size doesn’t matter.”
She giggled. “I’m supposed to say that!”
He chuckled.
“Anyway,” she continued, “you don’t need to spare my feelings. I had big boobs, when I was pregnant. Three times! Jeff loved them. I thought they were a hassle, but whatever. They aren’t coming back unless someone knocks me up.”
She blushed.
“Another reason not to knock you up, then, because I swear, I think you have beautiful breasts.”
“How would you know?”
“Call it informed speculation.”
“I call it bullshit.”
“Fine, show me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ah, there it goes.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. He smiled. His eyes twinkled.
“Show me.”
Another line. A small one, though. They were in bed, kissing. Would it be that bad to give him a quick peek?
“You want to see my boobs?”
He nodded eagerly.
“You’ll see. They’re tiny.”
She sat up and reached behind her to loosen the knot holding her dress in place, then slowly, she let the fabric slide through her fingers so that the cloth fell from her chest.
His eyes went wide. He licked his lips.
“Gorgeous.”
She began to cover herself back up. He reached out and took her hand.
“Please?”
She hesitated and then nodded, settling back down on the bed, her breasts exposed to him. God, it was thrilling to be like that, half-naked, Damon obviously enchanted.
“You really like them?”
She looked down at her chest. Flat. Barely a hint of curves. And then she noticed her nipples, hard, dark red, crowning her pale, pink areolas. She’d always thought they were sexy, was always surprised at how men seemed instead to be interested in just the mounds themselves.
“Can I touch them?” he asked.
She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. And yet, after taking a deep breath, she replied dry mouthed.
“Yes.”
He reached out, and as gently as he’d kissed her, he touched her nipples with just his fingertips and the pad of his thumb. He didn’t squeeze and he didn’t pinch. He examined her like a blind man reading a book in Braille, wanting to experience her every bump and ridge. He nipples burned, screamed at his touch, so tender, so gentle, and yet so exciting.
He noted her shallow, irregular breathes.
“They’re exquisite,” he sighed. “Has any man ever made you come just from touching them?”
“No,” she groaned.
She’d been close many times, but Jeff had never seemed to notice. Her growing excitement had always prompted him to transition to what he wanted, to enter her. And it was, she admitted, a surer path to satisfaction for them both. Her breasts could go from sensitive to tender in an instant, his touch from delicious to painful in moments. Jeff had learned not to go too far, and yet she’d always known that somehow, if he’d been willing to ride on that rail a little longer, walk the tightrope, there was a pot of gold out there that they’d never tapped.
He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. His fingers were still teasing her erect nubs, and now the kiss was longer, lingering, more forceful.
“You need to tell me when to stop,” he reminded her as he broke the embrace.
“Please, don’t stop,” she sighed.
He licked his fingers and returned them to her nipples, his damp fingertips slipping over her engorged little raspberries. He alternated, treating one gently with soft caresses with the pad of this thumb while he pinched on the other, feeling it harden like a pencil eraser, then switching to soothe the nipple he’d just been tormenting while tweaking the other.
Heather gasped. Oh God that was good. She craned her neck, her lips seeking his. They met, but those soft, little butterfly kisses weren’t enough, not now, not with her nipples on fire, not with the way each tweak sent a shiver down her spine and caused her pussy to quiver. She kissed him hard, her tongue snaking out, pressing into his mouth. He resisted a moment, letting her play the aggressor, and then he returned the embraced, deep, passionate, wet.
“Oww!” she hissed.
He pulled back startled. He’d fallen off the tightrope, the delicious ache in her breasts turning to pain. But he’d gotten close. Very close.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she grinned. Then a wicked thought. “Kiss, make better?”
He looked like a kid in a candy store. “Yeah?”
She nodded. Heather arched her back, presenting her chest to him. He leaned forward and gently sucked one nipple and then the other into his mouth, encircling each with his tongue, bathing her areolas in the moist heat of his mouth. She sighed, she moaned, she caressed his shaved head with her fingertips, traced his ears, squeezed the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders.
After several minutes he straightened back up. They kissed again. Not with the passion of when he was playing with her tits, but more than just the tentative kisses of earlier. Longer wetter, little teases of tongue.
“All better?” he asked.
She grinned. “Mmmm. You really like them?”
“Man, you do like compliments. Yeah, I do. They’re beautiful, and they’re not too small. Anything more than a mouthful is wasted.”
He was talking about her breasts, but her mind flashed to his prick. Taking it in her mouth. No, definitely across the line. She couldn’t suck his cock.
“I want to see your chest,” she said instead.
“Seems only fair,” he replied.
He sat up and removed his shirt. She’d seen him topless on the beach, so she knew how nice a body he had. Still, it was different to see it and to be inches away, able to feel and touch. She caressed him. He was like a Greek God. She palmed his powerful pecs, felt them twitch and contact at her touch. She traced the outline of his six-pack. His pants were riding low, and she could see the triangle of abs, tempting her to explore lower.
And she could see the outline of his prick, big and hard, angled across the front of his pants. She felt an urge to reach out, to touch it, to trace its bulk. Not just an urge, an impulse, almost irresistible. But she had to resist that.
Instead she kissed him again, harder this time, her hands cupping his head, holding him close. She sucked on his tongue, but in her imagination she was sucking on his prick. Too much, too much. But maybe, she could touch it. God, was she really thinking of giving him a handjob? The idea suddenly seemed so, so sexy. Stroking his thick, hard cock. Making him moan and sigh. Was jerking off another man a forgivable offense? Was letting another man suck on her tits?
She shivered and broke the embrace. She felt her eyes burning. A tear ran down her cheek.
“Are you okay?” He leaned in and gently kissed away the tear.
She smiled. Another tear dripping from her eye.
He laughed. “Oh, good, we’re now in crazy broad, crying and smiling at the same time, territory.”
She laughed, sniffled, wiped her eyes.
“Could you forgive your wife what I’m doing?”
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “It depends on what’s in your heart.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t want to cheat on y
our husband. You don’t want to betray him.”
She nodded.
“And so, it speaks to why you’re here. Is it because you’re angry with him? Spiteful? Vengeful? Dissatisfied?”
She shook her head at each word. No. No. No. No!
“Is he even in the room with us?” he concluded.
She got it. He didn’t mean literally, of course. But he was right. This wasn’t about Jeff. Not about his qualities or his limitation. Not about his strengths or his weaknesses. She wasn’t doing anything to him. Not denying him anything. Not punishing him. Not teaching him a lesson. Not even filling a gap he couldn’t fill. It had nothing to with Jeff. She was just here, alone with Damon, experiencing a particular moment in time.
“No, he’s not,” she replied.
“So it’s just us. And the question is, what do you want?”
“I know what I want,” she replied. Her throaty tone left no doubt what that was. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ve never had what you two have…. But, I’d like to think that if there was a woman whom I loved and trusted and wanted to grow old with, I could forgive her almost anything.”
“Very convenient,” she replied.
“It is,” he admitted. “Do you want me to leave?”
She paused. Yes, of course. Go away, you infuriating, delicious, dangerous, tempting man. She shook her head. “No. But would you like to cuddle naked?”
“Yeah. But first… I need to pee.”
CHAPTER SIX
They each took a turn to freshen up, Damon first, so he was beneath the sheets when Heather returned from the bathroom. The lights were low. Heather had stripped in the bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel. She couldn’t bring herself to walk through the room to him naked. She dropped the towel and hastily ducked beneath the covers.
They pressed together, only maintaining a slight, respectful distance at the crotch. They kissed. She caressed his powerful arms, he cautiously resumed fondling her breasts.
Heather found the excitement of being so close to Damon’s naked body intoxicating. None of the three men she’d been with had anywhere near his physique. Even younger Jeff hadn’t been a hard body. Terry had been just a kid, nineteen and skinny. Even Jako, a football player and offensive lineman, had been big rather than ripped.
She draped her leg over his, and he began to massage the outside of her thigh. Higher, higher he went, caressing her hip, and then finally reaching around to knead her firm ass. His fingers lightly trailing across the top of her crack, he explored up her spine. She shivered in delight, kissing him harder now.
She could feel it now between them. He was respectful, trying to keep his distance down there, but chest to chest with her leg over him, kissing passionately there was no way to avoid at least some contact. Truth is, she didn’t want to avoid contact. In fact, what Heather wanted most of all right now was to reach down and take a hold of his manhood, to feel his girth and hardness in her palm.
Her hand slid down between them, tracing the line between his pecs, then his belly button, his abs, down lower until her fingers found his trimmed, curly hair. She reached out and closed her fist around him.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked.
“What?”
“Is that why you’re such a cocky bastard?”
His cock was, well, magnificent. Long, thick, hard, warm, smooth.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“How big is it?”
“I’ve never –“
She laughed. “Come on.”
“Ten inches. More or less. Depending on how turned on I am.”
“There’s no way I could take that.”
“I thought we weren’t having sex?”
“There’s no way I could take that.”
“Sure you could. You had three kids, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, with an epidural and a surgical scissor to open me up.”
“Eww.”
She giggled. “You started it. Anyway, good lesson. If you’re trying to convince a woman to take something into her vagina, don’t bring up things that have come out of it.”
“I’m not trying to talk you into anything. I just want my cuddle date. You’re the one who suggested we get naked.”
He smirked. His hand was again on her ass, squeezing it firmly. She stroked him up and down. She thought he might be uncircumcised. She’d never been with a man who still had his foreskin, so she wasn’t completely sure, but he felt different from Jeff, and it wasn’t just the size. The head of his cock was large and spongy. She didn’t know if she could take all of him, but she thought the tip of his cock would feel delicious against her clit.
“I can’t believe I’m really doing this,” she said.
There was no longer any point in denying it.
“We don’t have to,” he said seriously.
She kissed him again. “I want to.”
Heather edged closer to him and angled his prick between her legs. She touched the head of his cock to her pussy, letting the head and shaft slide back and forth against her labia.
“You’re so wet, Soccer Mom.”
She blushed, but it was true, and she was getting still more excited feeling his hardness at the entrance to her pussy, slipping back and forth between her lips, teasing her swollen clit. She knew that wasn’t going to be enough. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him inside her, to make love to this gorgeous hunk of a man. Still, it was frightening. She’d never had a man like him, never experienced a cock as large as his.
“Will you be gentle with me? Take your time?”
He nodded.
Eyes locked, she ran the head of his cock up and down her slit. Again. And again. And then with a sigh, she took him inside her. It was just the tip. Just the crown of his prick and maybe a third of his shaft, but she was already stunned at the sensation of being stretched, filled.
“Oh God, you’re big.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She swallowed deeply and nodded. They kissed again. Wetly, deeply. He began moving inside her, just a little. She kept a firm grip on his shaft with her hand to prevent him from going too deep. A small thrust. She gasped. He caressed her cheek and then moved his hand between them, returning his attention to her painfully hard and tender nipples. This time he perfectly navigated the knife’s edge, handling her breasts skillfully, send jolts of pleasure through her body that combined with the unbelievable sensation of his huge cock now slowly churning deeper into her pussy.
Her breath caught and she shuddered suddenly. She squeezed him tightly as her climax washed over her. So unbelievably delicious. A perfect, frozen moment.
A tear ran down her cheek, but she was smiling at both the intensity of it and the tenderness.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he beamed.
She blushed at the compliment.
Normally such a powerful orgasm would have left her sleepy and satisfied, but this time it just whetted her appetite for more, so she was disappointed when he pulled out.
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “Roll over.”
She turned so she was facing away from him. She felt him press up close, spooning her. His large powerful hand spread over her belly, he entered her again from behind, instantly penetrating much deeper than he had before.
“Oh God,” she gasped.
He began fucking her with long, deep, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before penetrating her again with firm, measured thrusts.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Oh God, you have no idea,” she responded passionately.
“Tell me.”
She struggled to put it into words.
“I’ve never been so full. It just feels like, you’re everywhere inside of me. Like I’m going to burst. And God, you’re so hard. Like a metal rod. But also smooth and malleable. I can feel every inch of you when you pull out and when you thrust
back in.”
He began to caress her, one hand moving up to cup her breasts, the other massaging her upper back, her nape.
“And your hands. So strong and so tender. I love the way your fingers brush against my nipples.”
He began thrusting in harder. Still slow, deliberate withdrawals, but now he plunged back into her forcefully.
“And now?”
“It takes my breath away,” she gasped.
And it did. Each of his hard thrust stopping her breath in progress, forcing her to exhale, as if there were not enough room in her for both breath and his cock. She knew what he was doing, gradually acclimating her to his size and power, to being fucked harder than she was used to.
With a hand on her back, her reached up and wound his fingers into her hair. He closed them suddenly into a fist, yanking back on her head, pulling her chin away from her chest, baring her throat. She stiffened and whined, but two more quick thrusts brought her around. She relaxed and accepted his grip. His other hand slipped further upward, now closing lightly on her throat.
He could crush my windpipe if he wanted to. But that dark thought didn’t bring her fear. Instead it brought clarity. She was completely in his power… and she liked it.
He fucked her harder, harder. Heather gasped at each potent thrust. No Jeff, no kids, no dog. No diapers, no cooking, no laundry. Her entire consciousness was focused on just one thing: Damon’s huge prick plunging into her again and again and again.
He released her throat and moved his hands over her belly. He pressed two fingers lower, between her labia, finding her clit. She bucked against him, groaning. He thrust into her still harder, his finger making tight, hard circles against her sensitive, swollen nub.
Oh God, it was too much, too much. She tried to pull away, but he just tightened the grip on her hair, pressed down on her belly to keep her in place. She wanted to scream, but her throat was too tight. All that came out was a raspy squeak.
Harder, deeper, her clit so inflamed that it was almost painful. And then, white light, euphoria, an explosion of heat, relief.
She was shaking violently, and when she stopped, she realized he’d released her hair, was fucking her slowly, tenderly again, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder. Skin that felt hot and prickly. Tears flowed freely down her cheek. She twisted her neck and they kissed, an awkward, but passionate, over-the-shoulder kiss, seasoned by her salty tears.