The Party's Over
Most of the partygoers had left. I was ferrying dirty cups and bowls to the kitchen while people got their coats. Nan and Gerry were the last people to go. I stood at the door laughing at Nan’s joke and watching them safely into their car.
It was quiet in the house, just the music, Norah Jones, on low from the living room. I turned it up a little as I filled my arms with more trash and backed through the swinging door into the kitchen. I screamed when I saw him standing there.
He smiled and it showed that, though he might have been sorry, he was still amused. “I thought you might need a hand.”
“Very kind of you, but it’s not your party, you shouldn’t be stuck with the clean up.”
“Well, if you put it that way I can hardly argue.”
Instead of leaving he hopped up on the counter, leaning back to rest his broad shoulders against the cupboards. He was between the sink and the refrigerator so I was working over him and, for added humiliation, the garbage was in the cabinet between his legs. He watched me, intent but quiet, for a few minutes. Ever accommodating, he slid his faded, ripped jeans along the counter to spread his legs so I could get to the garbage can. The only sound, his breathing raising and lowering the black t-shirt stretched across his washboard abs.
I didn’t know what to say and couldn’t look into his face so I kept my eyes lowered and continued to wrap food, rinse glasses and clear plates. The unfortunate effect of this submissive plan was that I kept looking directly at his crotch, which made it hard to concentrate. I opened the refrigerator with a handful of garbage and only realized what it was seconds before I plopped it into the crisper. Hoping he hadn’t seen, and knowing he had, I moved back to the trash bin.
When my hands were empty his legs clamped shut on my hips and pulled me close. He sat up so that my face was inches from his chest and I must have been breathing hotly on his left nipple. He lifted a long fingered hand and brushed the back of it over my face and ran it down my hair.
I was tired and still confused about what the hell we thought we were doing and I didn’t want to keep cleaning up and part of me wanted to slide down to the cool floor and go to sleep. Another part of me wanted to cry until he held me tight. And yet another part of me wanted to open my mouth and….well wanted to do something else with him. I settled for tipping forward and resting my forehead on his pecs. He has great pecs. His hands came to rest on my shoulders; his legs relaxed and his sigh came in tandem with mine.
“What for?” I asked.
“This. I was just…I shouldn’t have been playing around…I didn’t mean.”
I straightened and looked up at him and my fingers literally itched to touch his tousled short blond hair.
He looked so defeated and yet a spark of hope danced there behind his glittering green eyes.
I breathed in to tell him it was fine. I breathed in to finish cleaning up. I breathed in to say goodbye. It turns out I breathed in to kiss him. Gently at first, it might have been goodbye, but when his hands moved, one slipping into the dip of my waist, the other pressing flat between my shoulder blades and holding me tight it wasn’t goodbye at all. It was hello, and how are you and welcome to me, me, me! It might have been ten minutes before we broke surface for air. And when we did we both looked lost. His taste suffused my mouth, my lips flamed with the slight swelling of a truly serious kiss and I could hardly catch my breath.
“Umm…ah,” he breathed, “I missed that.”
My spine all but collapsed then. I put my head down on his thigh and just lay still. He leaned back and stroked my hair. I leaned into it like a cat, turned my head to the side and when I did I breathed on his fly and was close enough to see his cock squirm and jump in his pants.
Softly, I laughed. “I missed that. Makes me feel powerful.”
“No, no, I’m really not. But when I can do that, I feel like it.”
His hand moved from my hair to my neck and he pulled me firmly upright, he took my other hand and placed it on his crotch. Beneath the heavy cloth I felt him come alive, grow harder and press more insistently for release.
Man, I love that feeling. I stroked my hand back down the length of him, along his thigh and let it rest on his knee before I stepped away to finish the kitchen.
He took a deep breath, sighed and slipped languidly off the counter.
I felt him step up behind me, his fingers brushed my hair from the nape of my neck and kissed me gently there.
All I managed was “Mmm.” And I didn’t move until I heard the front door click shut. After a couple of minutes I knew there was no future in trying to finish cleaning. I needed to go to bed and wake up fresh.
As I clicked the porch light off something caught my eye. I peeked out the window to the side of the front door. He was leaning against his car, feet on the curb, smoking a cigarette. My eyes teared up. It was the weight of a hundred other nights just like this one. Ones where he was just taking out the garbage or seeing out the last guest. Nights when he would have come back into the house and forced me to stop cleaning, led me up to bed. Times that he would have been the one shutting off the porch light.
I could feel one tear sliding down my cheek and I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t really want to. I flew down the walk, tiptoes skimming along the chilly slate. I was half way to the car before he looked up and saw me. I all but flung myself at him. Arms around his neck, legs straddling his crossed ones. With the cigarette he could only spare one hand. It was huge, cradling my skull and burying the fingers in my hair. As I clung to him he carefully flicked the end of the cigarette away, careful not to light the grass or let it roll onto my path back to the house. With his other arm free he wrapped me in his arms, and they almost went around me twice.
I was pressed tightly to him and wished I could be closer. I snuggled my face close in to his neck and stuck the tip of my tongue out licking the cords and muscles and veins there. His moan rumbled in my ear and his arms squeezed and released me then squeezed again. My hands ran into his hair and gripped so tightly he sucked in breath. I wrapped one leg around him. As high as I could reach. He let his hands slide down my sides, thumbs brushing against the sides of my breasts, not quite reaching my nipples. Probably on purpose. On their third pass I squirmed and had to bite down on something, I chose his shoulder. The material of his shirt was fuzzy and warm on my tongue and satisfying between my teeth.
He growled and lifted me as he stood straight. I was wrapped around him like a baby monkey, arms clasping him at the shoulders, legs crossed at the ankle behind his waist. Jaw slowly releasing his flesh. One hand was flat against the middle of my back, holding me steady and safe, his other hand cupped my left ass cheek helping me stick to him. His strides were long, measured, not fast going back up the walkway, navigating the 2 small stairs to the front door.
When we got there I leaned back, turned the knob and pushed the door open. I had to twist to do it and that pressed my warming groin against him, vaguely I could feel his hard cock on my thigh through his jeans and a fold of my skirt. That pressure sped him up. He stepped through the door, kicked it shut and spent the moment to reach behind him and twist the lock. That hand grabbed the side of my face and he kissed me roughly while he bolted for the stairs. Halfway up he stumbled and for a brief second my mind was ripped away from the all-encompassing desire and I thought about the fact that we’d probably be paralyzed before we fucked again. At the last second he got a hand on the banister and stopped the motion, then gently lowered me to the stairs.
We were both breathing hard, hearts racing, staring at each other from inches away. I took two deep breaths and let my arms fall to the side, we were both grinning with the small release, the absurdity of killing ourselves for something we’d had before, a thousand times.
In the eyes of the law we’re still married. Neither of us has declared our undying love for anyone else. There is nothing to keep us from having it a thousand more times. And yet this felt forbidden, immoral, even dangerous. I couldn’t help giggling.
He reared up to see me more clearly and I began to crawl backwards up the stairs slowly, with my eyes locked on his. He seemed frozen there, staring back, until his expression changed. He got that look, the one that tells me I’m being very, very naughty…and he loves it. Just as I got to the top of the steps his hands shot out and grabbed my ankles, I struggled, just enough, and he crawled up me shoving my skirt ahead of him and setting his jaw to let me know he wouldn’t take no for an answer. When his hands were in the crook of my thigh, thumbs pointing in, he popped his wrists up, flipping my skirt onto my stomach. He pressed on my thighs, forcing them farther and farther apart until I felt exposed and impatient. Slowly he leaned in, very slowly, it was all I could do not to move but when I wiggled my hips he stopped. I squirmed again and he moved back an inch. His eyes flipped up to mine and I begged him without words. I had none. Finally he was close enough that I could feel hot breath on my lips. Immediately after I could feel juice seep from them. He laid his cheek on the crotch of my panties and smiled at the wetness already soaking them while he kissed my thigh, then opened his mouth wide, set his lips over the panties and breathed out as slowly as he could. His lips walked over to the side, he used his tongue to slide underneath the elastic and the feel of his wet flesh on mine was like a reward. While his tongue burrowed around, reaching what little it could, his hands were reaching up to my waist, spanning it, then sliding down the offending underwear. Once he had a hold of them he ended the torture. They came off as quickly as we could untangle them from my feet. While his fingers let them fall where they might his mouth was already mercifully at my pussy. One long lick from bottom to top and all the breath left my body. At the top he searched out my clit and laid his tongue flat against it, moving it back and forth a bit to wake it up. Then he was back to the bottom again, halfway up he parted my lips and licked in and around my opening. I had a brief moment of wondering how he could not be drowning in the fluid I could feel washing out of me at him. Instead he used it, spread it all over my labia and up to my clit, which was awake and practically barking at that point. My thighs began to absolutely quake. He continued to worry my clit and plunged two long fingers all the way in to the hilt. I couldn’t keep my mouth closed or the sound inside it. I was loud and I didn’t care. The fingers slid out again then in and out and I was having trouble thinking. My legs popped up, I pressed my hands against my thighs pushing them farther apart, trying to give him more to touch and do, I barely noticed his other hand lifting up my ass cheek. His fingers rotated inside me and he sucked on my clit again. The fingers left me and I suddenly knew the meaning of the word bereft. The fingers of his other hand replaced them and I could think again. His mouth encompassed my clit and I thought I’d almost make it. I could feel a blush of warmth starting in my chest and creeping up. One lubricated finger gently pressed my asshole and I cried out. His tongue worked faster and faster, the finger entered me from behind as two fingers stroke in and up and that blush crashed over me. I was coming and coming and he teased it out just perfectly. Slowing down but drawing me through it until the last spasm eased out of me.
All I could breathe was, “Thank you.”
He kissed me tenderly, thighs, breast, neck, mouth. A deep slow kiss to ease the ache of removing his fingers.
I was jelly. I was becoming one with the carpet. It was all I could do to remember to breathe in after I’d breathed out. And it was delightful. Except for the fact that I had stairs digging into at least 6 vertebrae and I thought I had carpet burn from too much writhing and squirming. With great effort I opened one eye.
He was kneeling over me with his hands held awkwardly out, like a surgeon on his way to the operating room. A surgeon who smirks.
“What?” I asked.
He just shook his head and said, “I’m going to go wash up.”
Stay tuned for Part II next Friday.