It began over dinner.
A gay couple I had met the night before were one drink into dinner. My friend and I were sitting at a table just across from them. That’s when Patrick, the owner, who we all knew, walked in, noticed us chatting, and suggested we all sit together. So they moved the tables together, rearranged the chairs and freshened place settings. Though it was normally a working night for Patrick we insisted that he join us. He did. Bourbon flowed freely. Along with wine. And delectable food. The conversation was lively and quick.
Dinner began at 8. We finished… All feeling very good at 10:30.
Patrick had been sitting directly across from me. Looks had been exchanged. High fives that morphed into hand clasps… So as dinner came to a close, with a nod from my friend, I invited him back to our cabin to have a glass of wine and look at the stars.
I had been wet for days. On edge. Hungering for something new. And he was intriguing. I didn’t expect him to say yes.
He had been intermittently touching both my friend and me all evening. And when we left his restaurant, I thought perhaps he wanted her. Or both of us. You see, she is very beautiful. My opposite in many ways. She is olive completed where I am fair. Her dark shoulder-lengther tresses are sleek and straight while my long blonde mane has a mind of its own. Large, full breasts perch above a tiny, nipped waist and darling dimples crease her cheeks every time she flashes her white smile. A natural flirt, she puts men instantly at ease with her wide-eyed interest and questioning nature. Lately her roving ways have tempered as she is dating a man who cherishes her gypsy spirit.
“I don’t want him to think we’re both doing him,” she said as I slipped out of my dress into a comfy maxi skirt and v-necked tee.
“I know,” I said, “And if he crosses the line with you, just put him in his place.”
“I want to be good,” she said, “It’s so strange!”
We both laughed as we rejoined our guest, opened a fresh bottle of white wine and stepped out on the patio to star gaze. The Milky Way stretched like a magical cloudy pathway across the heavens. So there we sat, the three of us, talking in the dark under a diamond-lit sky. I felt his fingers reach for my hair and I tilted my head toward his hand, allowing him purchase among my golden waves. His touch turned into a caress. He touched her too. But differently. More friendly.
His hand moved to my arm, traced its length and then our hands intertwined. I turned my hand palm up and ran my middle finger down the center of his palm very, very slowly. His sharp intake of breath was audible only to me.
In the inky night, as the conversation between the three of us got deeper and deeper, I wondered about Patrick and his relationship. Married for twenty-odd years, he and his wife now live fifteen hours apart and don’t see each other regularly. I knew he just needed a human to touch. He was practically keening for it.
My friend excused herself to go inside and call her man, leaving us alone. This time when he intertwined his fingers in my hair, he followed the tendrils down lower and lower to where they rested on my breast. I put my hand on his, pressing it into my chest, turning away from the stars to look deeply into his eyes. His thumb began to graze my nipple.
Then, slowly he pulled my hand to his heart, where I could feel it pounding. Even more slowly eased it into his lap. My wet hungry pussy was singing the sweet music of anticipation. And then I felt the tip of his erection.
Our words had ceased the second he touched my breast, but while my fingers traced the outline of his hard cock, I broke the silence with a question, “So what are we going to do about this?”
“Do we have to make a decision right now?” he asked.
“Certainly not,” I said, “There’s all the time in the world.”
He was quiet for a minute before looking into my eyes, his demeanor serious and thoughtful. “I’m not sure there’s any choice to be made,” he said, inhaling a ragged breath, “I think you’ve bewitched me.”
My friend returned and our conversation continued for another thirty minutes or so, most of it spent with him holding my hand against his erection. It was just over average length. But the girth was very intriguing.
When my friend went inside a second time I stood. Still sitting, he pulled me to him. I leaned over and gently kissed his forehead. Then his nose. Then his eyelids. Then his mouth. He opened tenderly. Hungrily. His hand on my ass, the other in my hair. Mouths mingled. And then his hand reached for the bottom of my skirt. He ran his hand up my calf, my thigh and then between them. He pulled my wet panties aside, fingers searching. Gently he touched my clit, first flicking then rubbing. I moaned softly. My fingers ran up his temples, resting in his hair. Our lips still touched, separated only by sharp inhales and exhales. And then I quietly came against his fingers. He looked at me in wonder.
My friend returned shortly after I had resumed my seat. She was tired and suspected I had something brewing, but the wine slowed her down a bit and it was another twenty minutes before I decided to move things along.
“Patrick,” I said, “I think she needs to be tucked in. Do you think you could handle that?”
He stood, helped her to her feet and shepherded her inside. She called to me, asking if I was coming. I laughed and said, “No darling. He will be back out to keep me company as soon as you are tucked in.”
He returned quickly. I stood to greet him. We kissed standing for a while, his hands flowing over me like water. He wasn’t the only one craving human contact. I needed touching badly.
In unspoken agreement we moved inside, kissing and touching the entire way. In the living room of the cabin was a giant couch. Once in front of it I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. I ran my hands over his chest and shoulders. He was fifty-something. Fit. And taller than me by a good eight inches.
“Will you let me love on you? You need loving you know,” I said.
He nodded and said, “Please.”
So I slid to the couch and unfastened his belt. And then his fly. I pulled down his boxers and took him into my mouth, lapping my tongue around and around just tasting. I didn’t suck for long because I knew it had been a long time since he had last had sex, and wasn’t ready for him to come.
I stood up and then he gently pulled down my skirt and panties and cast them aside. I leaned back on the couch my shirt still on, but my legs spread and he fell between them, kissing me on the mouth. His cock sought my heat like a targeted missile.
And just like that he was inside me.
So we coupled. And it was magical. I could feel his energy, the intensity of the night’s conversation, the chemistry, the attraction. They all crested and mingled. I came. He came. And then he clung to me with his cock still buried deep inside me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding him. Letting him absorb the impact of his release.
As we walked back to the patio I asked him how long since he had had done something like this, expecting him to say seven years or so. He said, “Maybe six months, but it was with my wife.”
“Darling,” I said, “I didn’t mean sex. I mean since you were with someone OTHER than your wife.”
He went very still. “I haven’t been with anyone but her since we married 24 years ago.”
I came to a sharp standstill.
“You’re surprised,” he said, reading my reaction.
“I am,” I said, “And I’m honored.” And then I kissed him again.
Back on the patio, the talk and connection was even deeper. His protective veneer cracked a tiny bit. And he let me in to do what healing I could in such a short amount of time.
By now it was the wee hours of the morning, but I didn’t care. I started to stroke his cock again through his pants, feeling him slowly harden. When his cock was fully erect I unzipped his pants and took him into my mouth again, longer this time. Then I stood, turning so my back was to his chest and ground my ass against his hard member. I slipped off my panties, pulled up my skirt and I bent over a nearby stone ledge.
He rammed his shaft against my ass, gripping my hips. And then I shifted so he was thrusting deep inside of me, hitting my g-spot over and over and over. I twisted so he could see my face as I came, lit only by the stars. I orgasmed grasping the stone, eyes skyward on the Milky Way, hair streaming down my back.
I felt him come again.
After he came this time he collapsed in a patio chair. I moved to stand between his legs. Slowly I removed my shirt, then my bra and just stood there in the starlight, my skirt still on, my hair falling all around me. Letting him look at me.
Carefully he touched one breast, then the other. He pulled me in close, nestling between my breasts, whispering “thank you” over and over and over.