Previous entries (hopefully these links work!):
[Part 1 – Hotel](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8pppo5/for_a_friend_c_h/?utm_source=reddit-android)
[Part 2- Bar](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8pyyes/for_a_friend_part_2_c_h_mf/?utm_source=reddit-android)
[Part 3 – Workplace](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8tf77n/for_a_friend_part_3_c_h_mf/?utm_source=reddit-android)
—
I sit in the bleak cube that marks my workstation and watch as progress bars tick their way across my screen. One by one they fill up, numbers and colors and symbols popping into existence with every increment. It’s a welcome break from the chaos I endured the past few days.
The week has been a blurred rush to launch our products with a new partner, and our company leaned heavily Hayley, Rita, and I to make it happen. Our small team was pulled to and fro, hours of tense meetings and confusing emails and last-minute drama interspersed with frenzied coding and calculating and testing. I’m wrung out, a man-shaped sack hanging from the corporate clothesline. But that’s not what is eating away at me this morning.
Hayley is. Or, rather, the lack of Hayley is.
I don’t know what changed. A few weeks ago Hayley and I could barely keep our hands off of each other, our passion a wildfire threatening to burn us both. Now that flame has been doused to a puttering smoke and I’m not certain why. A wrong word? A misplaced comment? We had a minor disagreement that we’ve both put behind us, but since then we’ve been distant with each other.
Hayley would probably say it’s for the best. Our relationship wasn’t necessarily good for either of us. We’ve both acknowledged it, and we’ve both made attempts to take it down a notch. But it’s not so easy to let go of someone like Hayley. I think of the way she hides her face in her hands when she laughs, her sneezes that always come in bouts of three, her exasperating habit of eating Froot Loops and calling it lunch, and I realize that I can’t just cast her away. The fact of the matter is that Hayley is more to me than just a boss, and much more than just a good lay.
Besides, things might have cooled off a bit but I know that the connection isn’t truly diminished. I still see the desire in her eyes when she looks at me, even if she doesn’t act on it. I still feel the tension when we are alone together, both of us trying and failing to appear unconcerned. I still catch myself staring at her or her at me, though we pretend not to notice.
The embers are there. I just need to find the right oil to throw on them.
Okay, enough with the fire metaphors.
My computer continues to chug through the work I’ve so cruelly tasked it with, but otherwise the day is calm and quiet. I have little to do for the next few hours except dig through a pile of emails and listen to my coworker attempt to wake up her husband over the phone, over and over. The day will be a chance to relax and catch up on some of the smaller items that we I’ve been ignoring.
Good thing, too, as I don’t plan on being overly productive: it’s Hayley’s birthday, and our recent distance makes me feel that I need to do something nice for her. She’s out of the office on a well-deserved day off, but lives close enough to swing by on a whim. I wonder I can get her to do just that.
Only one way to find out. I text her: *Happy Birthday Hayley! You around at all this afternoon? I was thinking maybe I’d take you out for ice cream.*
That’s bound to get her attention. The girl consumes more ice cream than oxygen.
A few minutes pass before I get a response, but the ice cream offer did its job: *You know I never turn down ice cream. Can u do lunch? Heading to parents house this afternoon.*
*You’re the boss, you tell me. Can I do lunch? Might need a bit of extra time, just in case.*
*Extra time? Something fun in mind? ?*
*Hmm well it is your birthday. ? Meet by the park at 12?*
*That’s perfect. Looking forward to my treat! Or is it treats?*
*You never know. See you then. Oh, and don’t wear a romper. You know how I feel about those.*
*?*
Well, this will certainly make my Friday a bit more interesting.
I have about an hour to kill before I need to meet Hayley, so I split my time half between catching up on work and half deciding what exactly I’m going to do with her. I could just take her for ice cream and be done with it (No, Jared from HR, I didn’t fail to submit my timesheet. Your system just doesn’t work!), but that seems too small a gesture. If I were Hayley I’d want to be pampered (why do we need a meeting to discuss my email? Just read the damn email!). Problem there is that I’m not exactly the pampering type. Especially not after reading all of the inane questions people send me.
I lose cool to a Sudden Onset of Email-induced Rage (or SOER for short). Time flies as I write horribly nasty responses and edit them down to something a more reasonable person would feel comfortable sending. (“You suck at your job and didn’t check the fucking box and that’s why it’s wrong, please quit so I never have to talk to you again, idiot” becomes “All fixed! Looks like the checkbox wasn’t selected, so I took care of it. Thanks, Connor.”) A small part of me screams in agony with every polite response, but I grit my teeth and push on, clearing my inbox with reckless abandon.
Eventually I can take no more and pull away from my screen, practically sweating from the effort of suppressing my SOER. No new messages on my phone, but the time is 11:45 AM. Close enough for me after that nightmare. I lock my computer, grab my sunglasses, and head out for lunch.
*On my way. Meet you at the usual spot?*
?
The heat hits me like an 18-wheeler as I step onto the city streets. The air out here is redolent with the noises and smells of cars and crowded, confused tourists. Horns blare, suits dash across (and between and on top of and into) oncoming traffic, hawkers yell their wares, and I weave my way between them all, determined to make it to the park in one piece. It’s a close thing, a few brushes with death-defying cyclists nearly taking me out for good, but I make it.
When I get to our meeting spot I find Hayley sitting on a bench, book in hands. She has her curly hair pulled over one shoulder, and is wearing a tight grey and white floral dress with a generous collar that shows off the tops of her breasts and a dangerous amount of cleavage. It wouldnt be too hard to just slip it off of her…
An idea starts to form in my head, and I’m beset by visions of Hayley on her back in the grass, breasts bathed in sunlight and glistening with my come. There are a few secluded spots in the park where the traffic is very slow, where this vision could prove prophetic. I think a quick detour may be in order. My cock agrees with me, stirring to life in my pants with gusto.
Hayley finally notices my approach, and the smile she turns my way warms me more than the summer heat ever could. “Hey, Birthday girl. Ready for your birthday treat?”
“You know it. You okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah, just had some SOER.” My eyes glaze over as I think back to the emails still awaiting me. “I’m not sure I can go back.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine. Your responses are always very nice.” Aghh! “Are we walking first, or getting my ice cream?”
I make a show of looking indecisive, hoping my erection subsides before I have to try walking with it. It’s no fun sporting a chafed johnson. “Let’s go find a place to sit in the park for a few minutes. But we need a bit of shade — I don’t like to be in the sun for too long. Head gets pretty hot. It’s tough having dark hair.”
Hayley falls in next to me and immediately begins defending her love of baking alive. “But the sun feels so good! And your hair is the same color as mine and I’m fine in the sun.”
“No, your hair is brown. Mine is black.”
“Your hair isn’t black. It’s dark brown.”
Pain in the ass. All my life I’ve called my hair black and nobody batted an eye. Of course Hayley is the one to pick a fight on it. “Well, it looks black to me.”
“You can’t have black hair! I mean, I can see why you’d call it black, but hair can’t be black.”
“So it looks black but it’s not black.”
She smiles again. It’s the same smile you’d use for a toddler speaking its first words, and I realize she somehow thinks she won the argument. “Exactly! Besides, you have far too many grays to call it black.”
And there’s the nail in the coffin. No coming back from that one. Sure, I have a few grays, but there aren’t that many. Are there? Maybe I should pay more attention to those Just For Men commercials…. “Thats not nice at all.”
Hayley shrugs. “That’s just the truth, old man.” Old man? Never mind that I’m a few years younger than she is. “But,” she continues, reaching up to brush my hair, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It makes you look, hm, distinguished.”
“Distinguished, eh?” My man-brain interprets that to mean fuck-able, though I’m not fully convinced that’s quite right. Still, the effect it has on me is undeniable, and the detour is all but guaranteed now. “Not so bad when you put it that way.”
We continue our banter as we head deeper into the park, my need for Hayley growing with every step. She’s walking practically on top of me, and every time we brush against one another a jolt of desire courses through me. My cock is fully hard now, begging for release, and also to not be torn to pieces by my jeans. Hopefully the former comes first.
The crowd around us thins as we venture on, until we’re only sharing the walkway with one or two other people. The spot I was thinking of earlier is just around the bend and I steer Hayley toward it once I’m certain there are no prying eyes.
“I’ve got a place to show you,” I tell Hayley. “It’s not quite the ice cream shop but I think you’ll like it.” I step off of the path and onto a small rock formation, holding my hand out to help her up.
“You’re making me climb in flip flops?” She asks, but takes my hand anyway.
Over a few boulders and between a few trees, and then we’re there: a little grassy clearing, the trees and rocks on all sides obscuring the view, with enough of an opening overhead to let the sun in. It’s hardly noticeable from the path unless someone knows to look for it.
Hayley walks to the middle of the clearing and opens her arms to the sun. “This is an interesting place. How’d you find it?”
“Just needed a break one day and decided to explore a bit. It makes for a good place to read.”
“Oh.” She arches a brow. “Not a lot of people around, and you don’t have a book. What are we going to do here?”
I come up behind her and put my hands around her waist. She leans back into me, arms hanging at her sides. I run my fingers up her stomach and over her chest. “Anything you want.”
“Mmm. Anything at all?” She looks around, as if convincing herself that this isn’t a terrible idea. It probably is, and that probably won’t stop us. “Are you sure?”
“Nobody has ever come up while I was here. I’m sure.”
“I see. Then maybe you can just use me as you like?”
I slip a hand under her neckline and cup her breast, the nipple stiffening as I carress it. “I think I can manage that.”
I use my other hand to pull her hips into me, letting her feel my hardness. She turns her head to watch me. We’re both wearing sunglasses so I can’t see her eyes clearly, but the color is rising in her face and I can feel the same reaction in my own cheeks. She bites her lip as I run my free hand up her skirt and onto her pussy.
We stand together, bathing in the sun in the clearing, watching one another’s reactions as I fondle her. Her hands ghost over mine, nudging and guiding, shifting me around as her own need awakens. We kiss as she directs my fingers inside her.
I work into her slowly, letting her open to me, while up above our lips meet and part and meet again in a dance of kissing and nibbling and tounging. Our movements are soft, considered things, a far cry from the rough outburst I think she expected from me.
As if reading my mind she says, “I didn’t know you had so much self-control.” She slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders, exposing her heavy breasts to the summer sun. “Hope this doesn’t break it.”
It almost does.
Even in the summer heat her tits prickle with goosebumps as the air hits them, and I pause to drink in the sight: double-handfuls each sitting on ribs I can practically wrap my hands around; thick nipples jutting out from dark areolas; freckle-dappled skin cut half pale and half bronze by sharp tanlines. Once again the thought of covering them in my come flashes through my mind, and I know I have to satisfy that urge. Then I snap myself to attention, snaking my head around Hayley’s arm and putting my mouth to use.
My fingers pump into her in time with her own grinding motions; my tongue and teeth tease at her nipples and the sensitive skin of her breasts. Her arousal matches my own now, soft moans escaping her as I pleasure her in our private little clearing.
Her breaths become heavier, and to me that means it’s time for more than just fingers. “Ready for some cock?” I ask her.
Instead of responding she simply sinks toward the grass, pulling me down atop her. Her hands fidget with my belt and fly as I brace myself and lower my body so that our chests touch, the skin of her breasts against the fabric of my shirt. It’s a shame that I won’t feel her against my naked skin, but neither of us have the time or desire to undress me.
Hayley pulls both of our sunglasses off and tosses them aside. Our lips meet again as we align ourselves, the tip of my manhood pressing against her pussy. I pause, tentative, teasing, and she opens her eyes to mine. Our gazes stay locked as I push into her, savoring every inch, feeling her stretch around me, listening to her muffled groan of pleasure.
She wraps her legs around my hips and cups my face with her hands. We fuck slowly this time, the frenzied passion of our previous meetings giving way to something gentler, something more intimate. Our bodies move together in the grass, the sun on my back, the city breeze stirring our hair and the world around us.
I drown myself in the sensations of her body: soft, cool hands sapping the heat from my cheeks; nipples hard against me, shifting with the mass of her breasts; hips pliable beneath me, absorbing the weight of me, the size of me; her legs clamped around me, refusing to let me go.
Her pussy, warm and wet around the length of my cock, gripping me, clenching me, urging me to come, to fill her with my seed.
With every thrust the tide inside me builds; with every gasp and moan and quiver from Hayley, with every flutter of her eyelids, with every kiss and every breath and every gasped word, it builds, and builds, and builds.
But I can’t finish just yet. Our lovemaking has been slow and passionate and lovely, but I need something more today. I stop, barely containing my orgasm. “You said I could use you?”
Hayley’s face changes from disappointment to eagerness. “However you want.”
“Good.” I push myself off of her and stand, pulling her onto her knees. I place my hands on her head and guide her toward my cock. “I want to come on your tits. Finish me.”
Hayley doesn’t hesitate. She takes me into her mouth, eyes widening as she struggles to fit more of me in. She’s cupping her breasts with her hands, presenting them to me as a target, and I take the hint to do as she asked: I use her.
I thrust into her mouth while I hold her head, carefully at first, then with more vigor as I realize she’s enjoying it, that I’m giving her what she wants. I fuck her mouth, spurred on by the sound of her moans, of her gags, of her gasping breaths, and then the tide that was so close before washes over me once again and overwhelms me. This time there is no stopping it.
I pull out of Hayley’s mouth as I come, my semen spraying out across her chest and neck and chin as my cock convulses once, twice, four times, six, more, emptying me, draining me, blinding me with pleasure. I fall to my knees, shivering as the remnants of ecstasy course through me.
The reality of the image before me surpasses my wildest imaginations: Hayley, on her knees in the clearing, her eyes boring into my own with raw desire, my come dripping from her chin, her tits still in her hands and shining in the sunlight with my seed and her sweat and heaving as she tries to gain her air.
She watches me closely as she spreads my come across her chest, rubbing it into her skin. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Well, at least since the last hottest thing she did. It nearly encourages me to start round two right then and there.
Instead lean forward and kiss her. We let our breaths slow together, let our passion dwindle once more, and then work on cleaning her up.
Eventually we’re on our feet again and reasonably presentable. We pick our way out of the clearing and back onto the path, walking away as fast as we can from the few curious gazes that caught our emergence, giggling as we go.
It’s time to get Hayley her birthday ice cream.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/90fck8/for_a_friend_part_4_ch_seriesmf