“How into the idea of ‘Friends with Benefits’ are you?”
Her eyes bulged open in shock, eyebrows raising, jaw dropping open as her brain fished for a response.
“In a thousand years I would never would have thought you were the type of guy to suggest something like that!” Her tone was incredulous, disbelieving. How could this guy think to approach her—any woman!—with some bullshit like this. He was married. Happily married, as far as she knew.
“Oh my God,” she sputtered out words while she gathered her thoughts. “We’re friends,” she said, “sure…but I have absolutely zero interest in getting involved in someone in a relationship.” She rolled back in her chair, stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.
He held her eyes with his own, a slight curling of the corners of his mouth could have been the beginnings of a smile or a grimace.
“I’m not talking about ‘involved.’ I’m talking about—” His hands gestured about in front of him, a physical manfiestation of his milling thoughts. “—I’m talking about a helping hand?” His lips officially broke into a smile at that, a breeze of amusement escaping from his throat. “I mean that’s the most obvious and ridiculous way to put it, but I guess it’s a pretty literal description.”
He was acting so nonchalant that she was almost positive this had to be a joke, or prank, or some weird way of teasing her maybe. She battled internally with whether or not she was supposed to take him seriously. They had a good friendship, they joked and chatted and shared stories of life’s more serious side from time to time. There’s almost no way he could actually imply that they cross this gigantic line and be physical with eachother. Almost.
The more she thought about it the less strange it seemed. He was always incredibly complementary of her, if not exactly flirty. He was respectful. Kind. The kind of friend who seemed like he had her back. She hadn’t gotten the impression he was the type of guy who was looking at her as more than that, let alone looking at her sexually. And then, in another part of her mind she recognized the attention. She recognized he went out of his way to smile at her, to wave, to engage with her when others really didn’t. When she explored that part of her relationship with him she guessed it wasn’t so strange that he saw her that way.
“Look,” he started again, “I don’t want to give you the impression this is a grand gesture, or a profession of romance.” He stepped another few feet toward her and reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders. This was about as close as they’d ever been. She didn’t move away. “I love women. I love the female body. I am married. I love my wife. But my wife is physically unavailable. Moments of physical connection are few and far between and my body, my hands, my insides literally ache to fuck around with someone.” He inched closer. She could smell the scent of the soap he must use in the shower. The product he must use in his hair. “I miss making a woman shudder and moan beneath my mouth and fingers. I miss sexual pleasure for pleasure’s sake.” His face blossomed with color. Flush with embarassment, or excitement, or liberation. She wasn’t sure which. Probably all of those things.
He closed that last few inches between their bodies with another shuffling step. She tensed and shivered and was still unsure of what to think, but she didn’t step away. She didn’t tell him to step away. She didn’t raise her voice and tell him he was a pig. She put a hand on his chest. He halted his forward progress, the sides of their faces almost touching now as he had started leaning toward her. She felt his heartbeat beneath her hands and could tell he was nervous and excited. The closeness of their bodies opened up a space inside her chest and warmth began to bloom beneath her breasts, down into her stomach. Her hands traced the swell of his chest up to his neck and she closed that last gap between them, connecting their bodies from head to hips. What the hell are you doing! she scolded herself.
His lips touched the skin of her neck, his breath warm. His hands moved down her back tracing the curves of her body as her waist became hips, and her hips became ass. He gripped one side of her ass with one hand, breathing harder at the feel of voluptous flesh beneath his grip, separated only by the millimeters of soft fabric from her dress.
She pulled away from him as the temptation grew to cover the front of his pants with her hand, to find the buldge that was surely growing the longer they stayed close.
“You motherfucker,” she laughed out breathily. The unexpected desire that built in her was obvious in her tone. “I did not wake up today thinking I’d have some dude pawing at my body. I don’t know what on earth you’re hoping for here…I can’t say I’m completely offended, but this is definitely not something we can deal with right now.”
His optimism gleamed in his eyes as he grinned at her and took a few steps back, relishing the final joyous sensation of her soft body beneath his hands. He let his grip linger on her hips for a fraction of a moment, exploring the firmness of her hips as he drew back his hands. He wanted to lick the skin that covered her hips and stomach. He briefly imagined her thighs hugging his face with his mouth buried in the wet warmth between her legs.
“Legitimately think about this,” he implored her. “I don’t want to hold hands on the beach or pick out living room furniture, or argue about the dishes, or plan a family vacation. I want to blow off some steam. Lose a little control and employ every skill I have trying to bring someone some pleasure.”
With a playfully offended tone she said, “You’re absolutely fucking crazy, do you know that? Oh my God.” She shook her head while smiling at him. “I’ll think about it.” She moved back behind her desk, her eyes involuntarily searching for the telltale signs of the arousal he must be experiencing. She spotted the conspicuous swell angling downward in his pants, punctuated by a tiny blooming wet spot that one hundred percent had to be a drop of pre-cum building up. She was immediately aware of the dampness she felt in her own underwear and her cheeks began to blush.
“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll get the hell out of here, but don’t leave me hanging. Tell me to fuck off. Tell me I have no business putting this on you. Tell me it would never happen in a thousand years. Whatever you think.” He hestiated, eyes subconciously moving around the room, eventually settling back on hers. “Or, tell me you’re curious what I’d do with my mouth, my fingers, and my cock—if given the chance.” He’d retreated to the door threshold during his last statement abd casually leaned his body against the door frame.
She smiled at him, trying to read his eyes. With one last gesture she casually pointed and said, “Out, you freakin’ horn-dog. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, okay…I’m out.” He turned and left as if he was moving through a pool of water. Slow and steady. Languidly. Was he hoping she’d call him back and tell him to meet her in the bathroom for a fuck right that minute? God, men were pushy. Impossible. And definitely selfish. How was she supposed to rationalize sex with a married man? She definitely did not need this right now.
********************
The house was quiet and dark. It was the time of night when your mind can run forever and thoughts streak like shooting stars. Some thoughts stick, taking root like eager saplings, growing from the rich soil of human imagination. She lay in bed, eyes closed, willing her mind to rest so she could pass into sleep. She twisted her body from position to position, trying and failing to find the magic configuration of limbs and blankets that would allow her body to relax and drift off into dreams. Try as she might, she couldn’t get her mind off of the feeling of being so close to him earlier that day. The firmness of his hands on her body. The insane proposal he had made. The confident strength in the fingers that dug into the soft fabric of her dress and the pressures that had begun to meld their hips together. She touched herself every now and then. Who didn’t? What could be the harm in letting someone else do the touching for once? For the first time in a long time, really. Her mind played that moment from earlier in the day back and forth. WIth the palms of her hands she rubbed her tired eyes, rubbed at the haze of mild intoxication that floated through her body. She had put her daughter to sleep and spent the remaining hours of the evening nursing light beers and watching an old movie. The bastards in the movie always got some action. At the end of the night they got to explore someone else’s body. Feel their lips. Grip their hands around the warm flesh of a lover and feel the blood pumping just under the skin.
She sighed and moved her hands from her tired eyes down the plane of her body. Hesitantly passing her breasts, then her stomach. She knew where they were going. Her fingertips carefully crept between the waist of her pajama bottoms and her skin. The muscles in her hand flexed and worked the fabric up along her fingers. She felt the gradual transition from the smooth skin and fine hairs of her tummy to the soft mound between her legs. Her fingers meandered through the hairs below her waist and found they were laced with moisture the closer she got to the center point between her legs. She could feel her thighs on the backs of her hands as she explored her own body. He wanted those thighs to hug his face? She could almost imagine the sensation of wrapping her legs around his head. The muscles in his jaws flexing while his tongue and lips applied wet, hot pressure to her clit and the dripping cleft beneath.
She was aware of the sounds escaping from beneath the covers. The moisture between her legs was growing as her fingers worked up and down, tracing the pulsating vertical line from her clit into her pussy. She imagined the sucking sounds were magnified by the licks he could be applying to her body. The deep, warm sensation his tongue could give her as his mouth pushed more firmly against her. She could wrap her legs around him, curving her calves against the back of his head, forcing that pressure to increase. He would use his hands while his mouth did its work. When he moved his lips lower to suck and lick into her his hands would come over the top of one thigh and give attention to her clit. She would grind her hips up and into his face when his lips switched and sucked directly on her throbbing clit. As her hips would raise up into him he would move his other hand low, dragging fingernails against the flesh of her ass, surely leaving red lines in their wake. That wake would lead straight into the pulsating cavity of her pussy and he would fill her. His fingers would slide deep to the knuckles, lubricated by that ambrosia mixture of his saliva and her own sexuality. The squelching under her sheets grew and grew, her hips working against her own fingers, forcing them deeper, quicker. She sucked the middle finger tip of her other hand, reminding herself of her desire to feel the bulging throb of a cock between her own lips instead. She applied that wet finger to her most sensitive spot and felt the hard nub of flesh above her pussy rock back and forth around the pressure she applied. As quickly as her arousal had overtaken her it was suddenly building to her climax. She curled fingers into her body while working her pulsating clit, while working her hips against her own hands. Her breath escaped her lips in furious exhalations as she lost control of herself. The slick rubbing on her clit came to an abrupt stop as her body shuddered in ultimate pleasure. Her hard nipples chafed against the fabric of her shirt as her breasts shook and bounced with her orgasming body.
Her mouth was dry. She wet her lips with her tongue, slowly working moisture back into her mouth. She lay quiet, breathing heavily as blood flow returned from between her legs and back up to her head. An image flashed into her mind of the erect cock that had been trying to push its way against his pants earlier. She remembered that blossoming spot of precum on his jeans. How hard he must have been at the feeling of her ass in his hands, her hips against his. Could she actually let their relationship go beyond what it was? Could she allow herself to touch him, to explore the ridges and swells of his erection? To invite him between her legs the way she had just imagined? Maybe she could, after all.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j8e5h3/i_cant_share_this_with_the_person_i_wrote_it