Bryony and I got to know each other because our sons were in the same class at school. She was fun, energetic. A deep brunette with a sharp-cut fringe, huge eyes and a big smile. She was a bit of a hippy; she could afford to be as her husband did something incomprehensible that paid well. We’d go for a drink now and then with a bunch of like minded mums, drink wine, talk kids and politics and steer politely clear of the subject of husbands.
It was winter and we’d arranged to go to Bryony’s place, a big terraced house near the town centre. It was nice. There were candles, there was wine – a lot of wine. Gradually the others left until it was just the two of us.
We were in the sitting room, Bryony at one end of a sofa, her legs tucked under her, me sitting on the floor on a tasseled rug, leaning back against the sofa arm. We were in a pool of light from a standard lamp. Fairy lights twirled around the open bannister to one side, a wood burner kicked out a faint glow and a pleasant fug. I stretched my legs out.
‘One more glass?’ Her eyes were full of smile.
‘Sure,’ I said, leaning round, lifting the small tumbler. The bottle clinked against the glass. The wine splashed in, a little untidily, a few drops on my wrist. I kissed them off myself. I leaned back again and sighed. I was very comfortable. The walk home in the dark and cold did not feel appealing at all.
‘So,’ said Bryony, an edge of cheekiness. ‘How’s Dan?’
‘Hm?’ My mind was not fully engaged.
‘Your lovely husband Daniel?’ She asked again and laughed. She went and closed the door to the stairs and came back and sat down where she had been.
‘Oh you know,’ I said. I thought about all the trials of marriage. All the little points of administration. ‘All very domestic.’ I left it at that.
‘I know what you mean,’ she said, putting a hand on my shoulder in a friendly way. I took it and gave it a squeeze and because it felt good I kept my hand there. ‘It’s pretty fucking domestic round here as well.’ She took a drink. ‘Don’t get me wrong I love the kids but I do miss what it was like beforehand sometimes.’
I nodded. And I felt the curious sensation of the conversation going somewhere new, of somewhere…interesting. ‘What do you miss the most?’
I felt her hand pull away as she shrugged. ‘Being irresponsible. Going away for the weekend whenever we fancied. The sex…’ she giggled a little.
I laughed too. We had never talked about sex before but now, with more than a few drinks inside me whatever barrier that had existed before was gone.
‘What’s he like?’
‘Sam?’ Said Bryony, thoughtfully. ‘He really loves me.’ She sounded a bit sad. ‘When we have sex I feel amazing, I feel almost worshipped but…’ she fell into silence.
‘Sometimes you want a bit more?’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Like at college. The guys would fuck me like someone was going to come in and tell us to stop at any moment. Or like it was some kind of competition and they were being judged.’
I snorted wine. ‘I know that. They would just go for it as hard and fast as they could.’
Bryony’s hand was back on my shoulder. My sweater had fallen to the side and her fingers traced my skin, the white strap of my bra. It felt nice.
‘What was the best one?’
I thought about that. Moved my hips a little.
‘Well I used to work in the university library. There was the guy that used to always come in. A graduate student I guess as he was probably five or six years older than me. We ended up going for a drink. I took him back to mine and he was good…’
I looked up at Bryony who was listening raptly. I stopped talking. She leaned forward a little and her hand slid under my sweater, down over my bra, over my breast.
And then we were kissing, she leaning down, me leaning back, mouths open, tongues touching. I felt her hand squeeze, felt my nipple harden under her palm.
I swore into her kiss but didn’t stop, even as our wedding rings clicked against each other. I unclipped my bra and pulled it down under my top and she took my breast more firmly, tugging at the nipple. I moaned and turned and she slid off the couch next to me, giggling with all the drink. We were in each other’s arms, our hands under each other’s sweaters like teenagers. And then she looked me in the eyes and her hand went between my legs.
I opened my thighs and she pressed firmly, stroking over my mound, over my jeans. I just melted. My body felt like jelly. I slid my tongue into her mouth to say thank you, fucking hell, thank you. I wanted it. I wanted her. I unbuttoned my trousers and she helped them over my hips, to my knees. My black panties were so sensible, but when she touched me through them they could have been silk, could have been expensive lingerie I felt so sexy.
But I felt shy too, and burning hot, like the first time I’d let someone touch me. I pushed the jeans off over my feet as she leaned back from our kiss, took off her sweater. She was in a small strappy white top, her hard nipples visible. I pulled it down over her breast and as she leaned in I took her nipple in my mouth. I sucked and heard her moan as her hands unzipped her skirt and it whispered over her legs and onto the floor.
She leaned over my and rubbed my pussy again. I bit my lip to keep myself quiet. She pushed my sweater up and sucked my breast hard, drawing the nipple and the skin around into her mouth as she pushed my knickers to the side. I wasn’t shaven. I felt her middle finger sink into my soaked pussy and I arched my back for more. She stroked me, touched my aching clit then fingered me, slowly, deeply. My god it was incredible.
Our eyes locked, both of our mouths open as she moved forwards and back, fucking me firmly, slowly with her hand. It felt so intimate, I felt so dirty. I spread my legs wider for her to let her know yes, oh god, yes please, because I couldn’t cry out.
She took my hand and put it between her legs where she knelt, and I cupped her mound, feeling the spring of hair. She kissed my mouth, used her tongue. Nodded at me with eyes wide with lust, with want, with a little fear. She held her panties to the side for me. I gasped aloud. She was as wet as I’ve ever felt, far wetter than I’ve ever been. I slid two fingers into her at once and as I did she began to ride my hand. She moved slowly, strongly, taking what she wanted.
We tumbled sideways to the floor, imbalanced by lust and by drink. Our legs and thighs touched; I felt her breast against mine, our fingers touched each other, penetrated each other, ravenous for the experience, for the contact, for the sheer naughtiness of it all. And then suddenly I heard her start to cum.
Her breath trembled. Her arms tightened. She moved her pussy towards me and I felt her abs clench under my wrist. Her breath became deeper and she moaned hotly, sweetly, into my mouth, on my neck, onto my breast as she moved through the stations of her joy.
‘Put your fingers in my pussy again,’ she whispered and I obliged. She was just as wet, and I fingered her slowly as she moaned quietly. After a moment she eased herself up, moved and kissed my tits and my ribs, spread my legs as I lay on my back. She kissed my thighs and took my panties further to the side and kissed my pussy.
I gasped. Her lips felt so full, so soft against me. She kissed each side then on the hood of my clit. Her finger joined, sliding into me as her tongue flicked out. I grabbed her hair. She drew her finger back and put her tongue in me.
‘Oh fuck…’ I cried out quietly. She kissed my pussy deeply, hungrily, slowly, pushing her tongue in, her nose and her hot breath pressed up against me. She licked my clit, used the flat of her tongue, brought her fingers back into action and I lifted my hips in response. She seemed to know me. She moved her fingers faster, thrusting as she licked, holding me down as I felt the flush move over my chest and my neck. She sent me over the edge when she grabbed my breast, when she pulled the nipple. I whined and she clamped her hand over my mouth as I started to shudder, as I held onto her shoulder and squeezed my other breast hard, as hard as I could.
We lay there on the floor, bewildered and exhausted. I was glowing, floating in a sea of stars. I had never cheated before – but this didn’t feel like I thought it would. I knew my own mind, though right now whoever ‘I’ was seemed a long way away. But I felt no guilt, remorse, concern. Just the certainty that this was right, as certain as the fingers that gently cupped my pussy, held me.
We kissed, neither of us speaking. We were in a bubble, a place out of time. It was fragile – we both knew that as well as we both knew it would soon need to burst. But not yet. Not quite yet. I opened my legs a little and lifted my hips and smiled.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/nbih1s/ff_an_affair_with_bryony_lesbian_cheating_sweet
Well written, keep writing please