The cookout was going better than expected. Practically the whole neighborhood showed up and seemed to be getting along. However, I hadn’t expected you to show up. It had been a long time since we had seen each other, almost eight months to the day. You strolled in with your husband, said hello to everyone and found a place by the pool to sit and sip your wine cooler. “Strawberry Kiwi” what other flavor had I ever seen you drink? I don’t think I had.
I watched you for only a few minutes until you found your chair before I looked away, the last thing I needed was my wife to see me gawking at you. I’m not even sure where she was at that point. She could have been standing right in front of me and I wouldn’t have noticed. I turned away from you and gave my full attention to the charcoal grill that I was lighting. I would have to go inside and get the pork chops and burgers and brats after I got this lit, maybe I would be able to focus my attention to not fixate on you so much by the time I came back outside.
I struck the match and dropped it into the pile of briquettes. They caught in an audible growl, the black skin giving way to grey heat. I looked back over my shoulder casually, I couldn’t stop myself.
You were looking directly into my eyes, the pool robe that was tie around your waist now lay on the chair and you were reclining cross legged in a bikini with your dark brown hair curling around your shoulders and collarbone. You smiled slowly and mouthed, “hi” to me.
I tried to politely wave and then headed back inside to the kitchen. “Fuck me…” I muttered with exhaustion.
I walked through the sliding glass door leaving the two dozen people outside with the music and laughter, oblivious to the internal struggle I was having with myself. I walked away from the glass, out of sight of the guests in my backyard and leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes and tried to erase the images in my mind of your tan body sliding on mine, entangled in the bed. I imagined the taste of your lips, the caress of your tongue on mine and the warmth of your lower lips as they slide down the length of my shaft before I penetrated you.
I opened my eyes and smacked my cheek and walked into the kitchen. I was so busy trying to get all the meat out of the fridge and on the tray to carry outside that I didn’t hear the sliding door open and close. I was so consumed in my thoughts I didn’t smell your perfume, that sweet scent that drove me wild.
“Hey…” You said softly, your bikini teasing me, daring me to see how quickly I could rip it off and expose you to me.
I turned abruptly, “I didn’t hear you come in.” I said stunned, my face numb with anticipation. “I…I don’t know that we should be in the house alone.” I said fumbling through my thoughts. Of course I wanted to be with you alone, in front of everyone, in front of no one, fucking, laughing, anyway I could have you.
“Brutus, I know that you feel guilty about what we did but I think we didn’t do anything to feel guilty about.” Your words drip from your lips and all I can think about is pressing mine to yours and slipping your bottoms to the side.
“After all, it isn’t like we did anything un-natural. We have feelings and they are strong feelings but we still went home to our spouses didn’t we?” You begin moving toward me, I feel my rod stiffening in my shorts.
“If we give each other a release every so often, is there really harm in that? You don’t want to leave Susan and I don’t want to leave Jeff but…” You’re almost to me, close enough that you reach your arm out and touch my chest. “But we can’t ignore what we’re feeling…can we?” Your hand begins to slide down my stomach to my shorts.
“Fuck…I don’t think we should be doing this.” I stammer grabbing your wrist roughly and pulling it away. Your face is shocked but you move in closer, your body pressing against mine, your hip feeling the outline of my cock.
“Brutus, you know you want me as much as I want you.” You say with wanting eyes.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hdb0xw/the_cookout_affair_buildup_m4f