Heather and Michael Part Two
Two days before I flew back to Kansas again for Christmas break, I went to their building unannounced to bring Christmas wishes, and a gift for Lily. I made my way inside and up their private stairwell and knocked on the door. No one responded and I ducked in, calling hello to an empty room. The apartment was soundless as I stepped to the kitchen. Something stunned my peripheral vision and I turned quickly to see Michael kneeling naked before the breakfast nook by the window, Heather beyond him, her legs around him, both staring at me, the blinds pulled high in the window. They let out the breath they’d been holding, and Michael said shit. “Shit,” I repeated, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I turned and dashed to the door, dropping Lily’s gift like a murder weapon, Michael hurrying after me and calling. Halfway down the stairwell, I turned to face him. He stood there at the top of the steps, his cock still springy and high. Wait, he said, and don’t be upset. Are you upset? I didn’t say anything. I climbed two or three of the steps, until I was eye-to-eye with his cock, and took it delicately in my hands. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t do that. Delia…” I kissed the plummy head, then took him along my tongue and into my mouth. I sucked him slowly at first, but his grunts encouraged me and before long I was guzzling away on that cock that I’d so long coveted. He was wet and tasted musky, and filled my mouth with heat and salt. “Does he taste like me?” said Heather in the doorway. I moved my eyes toward her, released his cock for a breath, and then held it up and licked it along the bottom. To make a point to Heather, I sucked it deep and long, pulled my mouth off of it with a pop and licked my lips. “I guess you did learn a lot. Been practicing?” I didn’t answer her, but turned my eyes to Michael, whose balls I was fondling, whose sinewy thighs I was caressing, whose taut stomach I was exploring, whose ass I was pushing towards my mouth. “You gonna let the poor girl do all the work, Michael, or are you gonna fuck her?” Michael pulled back, took my hand and I stepped to the landing and we turned toward the doorway. Heather interrupted. “Not inside,” she said, “right here, on the stairs.” I moved Michael against the wall, climbed on my toes and kissed him. I pulled my arms out of my back-pack and coat, pulled my skirt down to my thick socks, and guided Michael’s hand into my panties. He turned circles over my clit and around my lips with his straight fingers, lingering, pushing, fingering until I was gushing. I laid my back against the crowded floor and spread my legs, my panties a thin, dark bridge from one knee to the other. Heather peered around Michael at my open legs and the pink, wet flesh between them. Michael knelt down, pulled my panties off and moved his nose along my thigh, his eyes fluttering. “No,” I said, “just fuck me. I have to get back.” “Oh,” said Heather, “how disappointing. It’s like going to Disney World and not going to the Epcot Center. But we have no condoms, dear.” I sat up and retrieved a condom from my back-pack, opened it, and fitted it over Michael, then laid down again. “She comes prepared. Let’s see if she comes.” “I don’t recall doing play-by-play when I was watching you,” I said to Heather. I pulled Michael down to me and whispered in his ear fuck me like she’s not here. He spread my lips and pushed himself inside me. He drove gingerly in and out of me. “Fuck me harder,” I said. Heather giggled. “What’s so funny?” I said. “What isn’t?” she responded. “Michael and I have been fooling around for an hour. If you get three good thrusts out him, consider it a major victory.” “Do it, then,” I said to Michael, “fuck me hard and come inside me. I want to make you come.” Michael put his hands on my ass and, without disengaging, lifted me off the floor. He turned me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his haunches, my arms around his neck and he pounded me into the wall. Hats and winter gloves rained on us from a shelf above my head. Michael’s body drew tight as a garotte, mine shivered and stormed, and then he stopped. “What’s wrong?” I said. “I want to taste you. Just a quick taste.” “No, no, fuck me, fuck me. I need your cock in there.” Michael resumed driving me into the wall, plaster and dust freckling our hair, the commercial carpeting beneath us. “Oh fuck,” cried Michael. “Do it, come in me, come in me,” I panted. In a clash of grunts and steam, Michael finished inside me, winding into exhales, deliberate, shaking, pulsing, final sighs. Still inside me, he collapsed against the wall, his head beside mine against the plaster, me still at rest in his arms. His knee buckled without warning and we slid clumsy to the floor, him on top of me. He asked me if I was okay, slid out of me and, as he pulled himself up, kissed my swollen pussy. I paused as Michael stepped inside, waiting for the blood in my body to resume its normal circuit, but it didn’t. My hands moved without my permission, finding my clit and engorged lips there begging for touch and resolution. “Can I finish you off?” said Heather. I didn’t answer, but let her watch me touch myself. I couldn’t find the nerve to invite her, but hoped she would take my silence, and that I didn’t relent in pleasuring myself, as tacit permission. Heather stood there smoking a cigarette and watching me. I plunged closer and closer to an empty orgasm, moving my eyes to Heather and back and then back to Heather, hoping she would do what I didn’t have the courage to ask her to do. On the precipice of climax, I finally begged yes, yes help me. “What about having to get back?” she said, putting the cigarette in an ashtray on the windowsill. “Please,” I said. “Okay, let’s get that poor, beautiful pussy some relief.” She knelt down and put her face between my legs. I continued to rub my clit as she licked me, tenderly and precise, between my lips, along them, around them. “Oh God…” I called. “You can call me Heather.” “Oh God yes…” I continued, furiously pumping away at my clit. “You taste lovely,” she said, “I want you to come on my face.” All words after that fluttered to my mouth without breath and were transformed to animal utterances. I felt a roll of burning hot thunder careen through my gut from my cunt to my spine and back again, as though it would split me in half. I squeezed my legs together hard, my body as loose as stone, and the thunder turned to cold fire and drove the breath out of me in curses, promises, benedictions, screeches, prayers, offerings, hollers, lamentations, covenants.
Heather pulled up beside me, cigarette in hand. “Want a drag?” I took a drag. But what I wanted was to tell someone that I loved them, and drown myself in the safe, familiar smell of their shoulders, their kisses, their same steel love and permanence. “Find yourself a nice boy someday. You’ll make him quite happy. Don’t do it yet, though.” She took a drag of her cigarette, let some silence pass. “And not my husband.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/25o2ft/heather_and_michael_part_two
Great story, first one was much better though, the writing for this one seemed a little rushed and could have been better.