Quiet Night

I'm happy married, but I think that I'm also in love with another married woman. It's not an admission that I want to make, but I have to write out the fantasy in order to, hopefully, get it out of my head.

Her name is Jenny. She is talented, she is beautiful, she is, to me, captivating. I love the blue shade of her eyes; I love the few silver streaks in her otherwise reddish-blonde hair; I love the freckles on her shoulders. Although she's a few years older than my mid-30s self, she still has the body of a 20-something – smallish breasts, lean build, shapely legs and butt. Again, captivating.

Jenny and I were friends, and as I mentioned, we are both married and have a lot to lose. For the most part, we stayed on opposite sides of a room from one another. We didn't touch; we didn't hug as I do with other friends. However, from time to time, I got little clues that made me feel that she had feelings for me, as well – a little smile; maybe a wink as if we had just shared an unspoken joke. I never knew, until one night. . .

My wife was out of town, and Jenny knew it. We'd recently talked about a book that I'd liked, and she had indicated that she wanted to borrow it. I'd just made dinner for myself and sat down to eat in front of the TV when my phone chimed. It was a text from her saying that she had run an errand nearby, and if I was home could she pick up the book. I texted back saying that I was home, and of course she could drop by. Around 15 minutes later, she pulled into the drive.

"Hey come on in! I heard you pull in"

"Thanks for letting me stop by," she said, "I was in the area to pick up something from the mall." She walked into the kitchen. She was dressed simply, as was often the case, flip flops, a mid-length cotton skirt, and a white v-neck tee shirt with something written on one side. It was simple, but it was her. The tee was just tight enough to show her figure, and just thin enough to see the outline of her bra.

"No worries. Here 'tis," I said, handing her a copy of my favorite book.

"Thanks."

She looked at the cover, and I told her, "You're more than welcome. I've read that at least half a dozen times. I look forward to hearing your review."

Jenny set the book on the counter beside her. I offered her a drink, which she accepted. I was a little surprised, as I thought this was just going to be a quick stop. Of course, I didn't care, besides having feelings for her, she was a friend, and I liked her company.

"I have wine, beer, bourbon. . . water, of course?"

"A little splash of wine would be great – thanks!"

I poured two glasses of white wine that had already been opened. As I did that, she lifted herself to sit on the counter. I handed her a glass, we clinked, and I leaned on the counter, somewhat next to her with my arms crossed in front of me. I tried to make small talk, but it felt a little forced. I uncrossed my arms and set my glass down on the counter between us. As I did, she put her hand on mine. I turned to meet her gaze – it was intent. We just looked at each other for what seemed to be a few seconds.

"What," I asked, "it looks like you're about to say something?"

She was direct, "do you want me?"

Feeling that I should hide my real answer, I played dumb, "want you how? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Jenny, I. . . I, uh. . . "

"Come on," she urged, "do you have feelings for me?"

A pause. "Yeah, I do," I said, "I don't mean to."

I was standing in front of her now, she was still seated on the counter.

She said, "it's OK" in a way that was very clear to me that she reciprocated.

Nervously, I took a step closer to her, I placed my hands on the counter on either side of her thighs, and we kissed. I could hear my heartbeat. The house was quiet, an occasional passing car, the air coming through the vents, and the soft, wet, smacking sounds of a kiss. She held my face in her hands. I slid my hands onto the top of her thighs, under her skirt. Her skin was as smooth as I'd imagined. Slowly, I moved my hands up the outside of her legs, beneath the fabric of her clothing, until I reached the point where her legs met her hips. I felt the elastic around the waist of her skirt on my fingertips – I realized she wasn't wearing panties.

"You didn't just come for a book did you?" She shook her head, almost unperceptively, to indicate no.

"You came to play, didn't you?" Again, without breaking eye contact or speaking, it was yes.

At that, I pushed her legs apart on the counter, and slipped a finger into her wet slit. She exhaled sharply and jerked. I stood back for a moment, massaging her clit, while I watched her face flush with passion. After a moment, I scooped my hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her off the counter. We crashed onto the couch. I kissed her neck, and made my way down her body, pushing her clothes upward. I kissed her belly, flat and soft, and proceeded down. I had to taste her.

Her pussy was trimmed nicely. She lifted one leg onto the back of the couch, and put the other on the floor. As quickly as I could, I experienced her. I dove my tongue between the folds of her labia, and lapped long strokes up to her clitoris. I sucked and teased and gently bit; Jenny writhed, she moaned longingly. I continued to take as much of her in my mouth as I could and soon, her hips were jerking against my face as she came.

We laid on the sofa, a little messy and out of breath for a few minutes. Neither of us spoke – we didn't want to, didn't need to. She got up, and reached out her hand to me. I took it as she led me toward the bedroom. As we walked, the clothes came off. I loved watching her hips sway as she walked, her ass twitching just a little with each step. I couldn't believe that this was happening. I felt the guilt, but it also felt right. She looked back at me, smiling knowingly when she saw where I was staring.

At the edge of the bed, she knelt down and took my hardness in her mouth. I was so aroused at this point, it seemed to me that her mouth was on fire. Her tongue against the sensitive flesh of my cock was fiery. It was perfect. Although I wanted to watch her suck me for longer, I wanted to be inside her even more. I pulled her up from the floor and laid on the bed. She slid on top and into position effortlessly. Once again, my cock was engulfed in her heat. She grinded her hips against me slowly; I kissed and bit her small erect nipples, and she responded with whimpers of delighted pain. My climax was nearing.

"Where do you want me to cum?"

"Cum. . . inside me, ungh, just cum insii. . ." she panted.

I got behind her to take her from the back, pressing her head onto the bed, ass in the air. I re-entered her and began sharp thrusts. We both got a little noisy with grunts. She began to buck as another orgasm came on, and I could take it no more. As she had a second, and loud orgasm, I pumped her pussy full of my cum. Our rhythm slowed, and I collapsed on her, in her, and she to the bed. Out of breath again, I could only kiss her beautiful freckled shoulder in response.

After that, she left to go back to her life. Since then, we've never spoken of the night. We know that we can't. Sometimes, though, we get a moment that's just long enough for a meaningful glance, and a smile.