I wasn’t looking forward to entertaining my husband’s friend, Jeremiah, when he came to town recently.
Not that I didn’t get along with him, but he wasn’t exactly what I’d call a barrel of laughs.
He was in town as part of an accountant conference or something, and I had to take him out Saturday night while hubby worked late.
Of course, Jeremiah called in the morning to say he’d be early. So not only was this dull number-cruncher ruining my dinner but my lunch, too.
I picked him up at our city’s small airport and asked him where he wanted to go for lunch.
He mentioned a bar he and my man used to go to and, knowing I could pound back a few bellinis, I agreed.
We sat down in the dank bar, which hadn’t weathered the years as well as Jeremiah and my husband had.
It was dark, almost too dark to see, and the booths had long, high-backed benches. I wasn’t sure if the waitress would ever find us once we sat down.
She found us, and I ordered a double once he started talking. I had two more before the food arrived and managed to drown out his snore-inducing stories thanks to a good buzz.
While he prattled on, I noticed he had cleaned up quite a bit since the last time I saw him. In fact, it was clear he had hit the gym big time.
His dark skin caught the soft light in the bar nicely, and I could see the sinewy muscles in his arms against his sleeves and the wide curve of his broad shoulders in his tight shirt.
He had beautiful features, a thick neck and smooth skin.
I let out a giggle as I thought about how smooth I might find him.
While we ate, he mentioned that he had some pictures on his laptop from the days before I met my husband, so I drunkenly stumbled to his side of the booth to see.
When I leaned on him, I wrapped my arm around his, giving his bicep a quick pump with my hand. Sure enough, it was rock hard. This time, he heard me giggle when I wondered what else was rock hard!
As he scrolled through the photos on his computer, I pressed against his muscular arm, slowly rubbing my breast into it. I was feeling pretty flirty by now, thanks to the booze and his attention.
When the photos were done, I stayed on his side of the booth but dropped my hand down to his leg. He opened up his thighs a bit as I let my fingers open onto the inside of his thigh.
We actually began having a conversation. He was asking me about my work and we got onto movies at one point.
I must have been comfortable because I unknowingly started stroking the inside of his leg. By this point, he had an arm around me and was speaking lowly and softly into my ear. His hot breath was making me melt.
When the waitress came with the bill, I allowed my breast to brush ever so lightly against the hard canvas of his chest when he stood up. He guided me out of the bar, touching my hips gently with his fingertips. The tickling sensation made me stop dead, and he bumped into me. I could feel his rock-hard jackhammer of lust pushing through his pants. As it touched between the cheeks of my round ass, I could feel myself moisten. I knew this day would end with this ebony stud pushing his love rod deep into me, filling me with erotic sensations I’d never dreamed of.
And I couldn’t wait.
I handed him my keys and leaned my head onto his shoulder, settling my hand on his lap.
The time for pretense had passed and I ground my palm into his crotch, working away at what I could feel was a woolly mammoth waiting to trample me with unbridled passion. I could feel the dampness of his excited state so I began rubbing his shaved head with my free hand.
We got to my house just in time. I had his shirt off by the porch and threw it recklessly across the living room.
He promptly lifted my shirt and licked my breasts savagely, reaching deep down the back of my jeans and sliding his hand up and down my clenched buttocks.
God, I wanted him inside me!
I straddled his leg while he removed my bra. My breast fell into his hands as he kissed me deep and long.
I dry-humped his leg, the friction on my mid-section a poor substitute for what I really craved: every inch of him nestled inside me.
We fell to the floor, and I almost fainted in delight as his caged tiger pressed into my thigh.
I glanced down and its glistening tip was crowning the top of his jeans. I couldn’t believe how perfectly big and round it looked. Without a moment to spare, I kicked off his underwear and jeans while yanking down my own pants.
Like a clumsy barbarian, he ripped my thong aside and worked himself into me.
There was a brief moment when I thought it wouldn’t fit, that its girth would exceed my eager capacity but he thrust his hips hard at the last second and my eager beaver welcomed him with a warm, wet hug.
He pounded away like a rock n roll drummer, finding a rhythm, then slowing before another song started.
Through it all, he pulled my ass up to meet his powerful thrusts. My bosom pressed against his hairless chest as I burned with excitement and flushing, shaking desire. I felt the inevitable orgasm, and he did too, because his cock tensed before we shared an erotic, intense kiss. I felt him pushing hard into me after the orgasm, exhausting the last if his energy and delighting me as I pulled him closer.
The moment passed and we showered separately. My husband would be home soon and I had a lot to tell him, including how happy I was to see his old friend.