Escaping Repressions Part 3 — D.E. Carroll

Did you miss the first two segments of Escaping Repressions? Find them here.

…I turn my head and find Sarah, kneeling on the back of the couch staring at me. Her skin is glowing, part passion, part sweat. Her breasts sway invitingly in front of me. My heart starts to pound and I haven’t even touched her yet. Sarah’s fingers move from my shoulder up to my face. Her knuckles brush my cheek. Then, slowly they drop. Grace the fluttering pulse under my jaw, the hollow of my throat. Finally, she traces the tops of my breasts with the tip of her finger. Letting her fingernail curl under the dress, exploring deeper. I’m trembling, I can’t help it. Sarah smiles. “I was hoping you would be here.”

She is so very different from the Sarah I knew. It sounds strange but I know of no other way to put it. The Sarah I knew was fun but quiet, vivacious but reserved. Even after glimpsing the two of them together a year and a half ago did not, could not have prepared me for this. For this beautiful, naked, just-fucked woman whose body even from a foot away seems to radiate heat.

Then, before I can even react, her finger hooks into my dress and she pulls me to her. She kisses me, gently at first, then deeper, more searching. Before I am aware of it, I am kissing her back. My tongue slips into her mouth, tasting her, playing with her tongue. The taste of her, the feel of her in my arms is difficult to describe. It’s like being wrapped up in heat. As if the glow of sex and sweat, the taste of come can be combined into something tangible that wraps itself around you, sucks you in.

My dress has fallen off my shoulders. Only Sarah’s arms around me, our bodies pressed together keeps it from hitting the floor. Did I lower it, or did she? Who knows? And in the end I don’t really have the presence of mind left to care. All that matters now is Sarah.

Her lips have left mine. Her kiss touches the pulse in my throat and makes it jump. As her tongue burns a trail along my neck from my jaw to my collarbone I am moaning in an almost desperate way. I grip the couch cushions in my fists, straining, willing her lips to go further. Right at that moment, if she had asked me to drop to my knees and beg, I would have done it in a heartbeat, my need was so great.

Sarah moves down from the crook of my neck, kissing painfully slowly until her face is between my breasts. She hangs there unmoving, as though mentally choosing directions. Then she moves and her lips begin to caress my left breast. She starts in large circles from top to bottom and around again, teasing me. Even I can not tell if the sounds I am making are more from excitement or frustration. Sarah’s lips circle further in, closing in on my nipple like a sailboat caught in a whirlpool. She circles and circles and my heart begins to pound in rhythm. Finally her lips close around my nipple. She sucks it into her mouth. I shudder as it hardens against her tongue. Sarah’s mouth finds its own rhythm, sucking, licking, flicking my nipple. When her left hand touches my right breast, when her fingers tease the nipple to harden, I am undone. I come standing there, half naked, pressed against Sarah and the couch.

When my heartbeat begins to slow, when it feels like my legs can support me again, I grab a fistful of Sarah’s hair and use it to pull her face to mine. I kiss her fully, unreserved, pulling small sounds from her throat as I tighten my grip in her hair. I want her, just as badly as before, but it is different now. Before, I saw nothing else but her. I would have done anything she’d asked just to get her to touch me. Men are not the only ones who can get lost in passion. Women can as well. We simply are trained not to admit to it.

A few seconds ago I was a willing slave to Sarah. Now, as I think it often is with men, orgasm has cleared my head, lessened my need. I am in control of myself again and with that comes the desire to be in control of someone else. After a person has gotten that close to you, after they have driven you half crazy with passion and the need for release, nothing will drive them crazier than walking away. I can see it in Sarah’s eyes as I pull back. Her face clouds over in confusion. “Where are you going?” she asks, disbelief heavy in her voice.

I let my dress slip away from the rest of me and fall to the floor. I am left in nothing but heels and lace panties. The look she gives me is surprising and exquisite. It is a hungry, unsatisfied look. The kind a person would get after having a great feast set down before them, only to have it vanish after a mouthful. In all this time I never knew she felt this strongly attracted towards me. The want, the broken self-assuredness in her eyes, she is trying to draw me back to her with that look.

Sarah thought she had me. The truth is, she did. But only for a moment. I smile as I turn to walk out of the room. “I just arrived,” I call back, “be a shame if I didn’t look around first.” As I turn the corner and make my way toward the kitchen, I almost feel bad for Sarah. But considering the tangle of bodies that populated the room when I left, I’m pretty sure she won’t be lonely for very long.

All but naked, I make my way down the hall to the kitchen. My heels strike the floor in a predatory way with my hips moving of their own accord, swaying more than normal. When I first entered the house, I was exploring. Now I am hunting. For what or whom I’m not sure. But I’ve got all night and room after room to work through. I will find it, whatever it is, eventually.

The kitchen looms before me and familiar sounds beckon me on. I walk inside and my eyes take in everything all at once while my brain strives to process it all. Here, like in the living room, there are a variety of sights to see. I start on my left and work my eyes around the room, taking my time.

On my immediate left, propped up on the countertops are my two old college roommates Erika and Jessie, and their respective husbands, Tom and Joe. Erika and Tom have been married for three years and have an eighteen month old baby girl. Jessie and Joe have been married for five years but have no children. My two old friends are sitting side by side atop the counter, their shoulders almost touching.

Although both women have dark hair and brown eyes, any physical similarity between them ends there. Erika keeps her hair straight and cut short, barely reaching past her jaw. She has a slim build with a runner’s physique. All long legs, toned thighs and flat stomach. Her breasts are small but they fit her body well, and all the habitual running she does has (I am envious to say,) kept her ass high and firm. I have heard Tom say on more than one drunken occasion that his wife’s behind is so firm you could bounce a quarter off of it. He knows, he’s tried.

Where Erika is tall and slim, Jessie is shorter and fuller. She has a natural hourglass figure that starts with large breasts and slides into full hips, the kind that can work a dress or a tight skirt in a way that makes you want to look at her no matter which gender you may be. I remember being at both of their weddings. I can remember watching each of them walk down the aisle, dance, cry, cut cake. And I remember clearly, at each of their weddings, thinking how I had never seen two people more in love with each other. Two people who simply did not have eyes for anyone else.

I know that, standing here I should feel confused, again trying to reconcile the people I know with the people in front of me. But it’s almost like I’ve made it across the No Man’s Land of a battlefield. Once there, after everything you’ve seen, there is very little that can shock you anymore.

Erika and Jessie are naked, side by side on the countertop. Erika’s eyes are closed, Jessie’s are open. Jessie can’t take her eyes off her husband. Erika looks like she wouldn’t let go of him for all the world. Erika’s long legs are wrapped around Joe’s hips, her heels are pushing into the small of his back pulling him into her. He has a near death grip on the hips of his wife’s best friend. I can hear the slap of his balls striking toned skin. Every time he thrusts Erika’s cries get a little louder and Jessie’s eyes seem to shine a little brighter.

I can’t tell which turns her on more; watching her husband Joe fuck her best friend for all he is worth, or having her best friend’s husband on his knees in front of her with his face buried between her thighs. Jessie’s face is flushed with heat, her breathing is labored, I can see her stomach muscles fluttering and contracting. She’s about to come, but her eyes are still open and locked on Erika. She is too engrossed in watching to even let orgasm shut her eyes. Jessie begins to shake, but it is Erika who screams. Her head shaking from side to side, her back arching, she screams as her orgasm rips through her, tightening every muscle in her body.

Joe slows his thrusts as Erika comes, then stops until she has ridden it out and I am genuinely impressed by his control. Slowly, Erika’s orgasm subsides. Jessie has a huge smile on her face watching the aftershocks shake her friend’s body.

As I walk past our eyes meet and lock. Recognition raises its head through the lust and she nods her head to me. I nod back in perfect understanding, the way a person can only when she has seen things most normal people never will. I want to say something to her but our brief connection is broken by Tom. His strong back obscures my friend’s face as he stands up, his cock bobbing in the air. Jessie instinctively wraps her legs around his waist and slips a hand between them, guiding the head of his cock until it slips inside her. Both their eyes close when Tom thrusts himself fully inside and I can tell that right then, the rest of the world has ceased to exist for them. It is just as well, I think as I continue walking. I have no idea what I would have said to her anyway…

____________________

This story is going to continue, so come on back in two weeks and we’ll have the next installment of this sexy tale. Did you miss the any of the previous segments of this sexy tale? Read them here.

D.E. Carroll is a  twenty eight year old writer and poet who has a particular interest in erotic short fiction. He is a part time student and full time government employee who spends most of his spare time either reading or writing.