Tails, Scales and Scones

Zoe and I were old school friends. Sweethearts, I guess you could say, but I’d never really thought of us like that. We’d got to know each other really well through our teenage years. At university we’d shared a flat and had become somewhat more than friends: lovers perhaps, certainly intimate. After university, though, we’d drifted apart as our careers took us to different parts of the country. She had moved north to the big city to take on a high-flying role, I had moved south to indulge my love of computers. We talked regularly and met up now and again for weekends away.

This was one of those weekends away. Zoe and I had a wonderful day in an old market town near the mountains. We had walked together in the old ruins, we had dined in a cosy restaurant down a back street that we’d stumbled upon and we’d walked back to our hotel in the almost pitch-black countryside darkness, talking as long-time friends do. But then, as we settled down for the night, I’d become aware of a change in her behaviour. As I undressed for bed, she had quietly slipped into the en suite bathroom and returned a few minutes later, dressed in pyjamas. I remember noticing this as I think this was the first time I’d ever seen Zoe wear such garments.

We had got into the generously sized double bed together and I had scooted closer to her side. She had scooted away from me and I stopped.

“Are you okay?” I had asked, concerned.

She had nodded and then, after a pause, she said. “I … just want to sleep.”

I had watched her closely for a moment or two, then nodded and returned to my side of the bed. Although I turned the light off, I lay awake for a long time, puzzling over her sudden change in behaviour.

I became aware that it was, at last, morning. The room was dark and I was half awake. I rolled onto my back and two thoughts filled my mind. First was the cause of my wakefulness: my morning wood tugged against the feather duvet, tenting it somewhat. Second was the memory of last night, the pleasant parts at least. A smile spread slowly across my face as I remembered Zoe and I flirting in the restaurant like old times. My thoughts also drifted to the conversation we’d had navigating the dark lanes. One reason I was drawn to Zoe was that we could talk to each other about anything. She had confided in me – no, as I thought of it now, she had subtly boasted to me – about the great sex she was having with her husband of two years.

My hand slipped down under the duvet, curled languidly around my shaft and began to tug lazily as I imagined those scenes. I had no idea what Zoe’s husband looked like naked so it was natural that, in my morning fantasies it was I in his place.

Soft light suddenly lit part of the room. A moment later the light was extinguished and Zoe crept out of the bathroom. I remained silent, but continued to caress my erection under the duvet. The room was almost entirely dark, so Zoe padded slowly, carefully past the end of the bed. I listened carefully and suspected she was bare-footed on the carpet. She approached the corner of the bed near my feet and, slowly, trying to be silent, I pushed back the duvet with my free hand. I slept naked, as Zoe and I were wont to do – or so I thought.

Instead of coming to my side of the bed as I expected her to, Zoe rummaged carefully in one of her bags, then started heading for the room to the door.

“You know what I’m doing,” I called out, softly. In the dark silence, I didn’t need to talk much above a murmur.

Her footsteps stopped. “Yes,” she replied. There was neither interest nor disinterest in her voice. Just a plain, matter-of-fact reply.

“You know why.”

“Yes,” again. This time, I thought I heard just a hint of a smile. But I may have imagined that.

“Join me,” I invited.

“No,” came the reply, almost immediately, and I heard her put the key in the door.

Frustrated, confused and a little bit frightened, I tried to make sense of what was happening. It felt like I had done something wrong, but she wasn’t telling me what. For some reason, feelings of doom ran through me as if, were she to leave the room, she might not come back. The only thing I could think of was to hark back to the days we’d explored domination and submission.

“Come. Here.” I hissed, firmly but still quietly. There was a long moment of silence. I imagined her with her hand on the door knob, debating whether to keep on her current course of action or to obey me. There was a gentle snick as the door was locked again and she walked back through the dark room to my bedside.

I reached out to touch her hip and discovered that she was wearing the same long, flowing skirt she’d worn the night before. “Give me your hand,” I said, taking the edge out of my command. Wordlessly, she put her hand in mine and I drew it towards my still-hard cock. She resisted a moment as she realised what I was doing, but I remained insistent and a moment later her slim, cool fingers were wrapped around my shaft. Almost instinctively she began to stroke me, focussing below the head as she knew I liked.

For a moment, we were silent, just letting the physicality drain the tension from the moment. I reached down and dipped my hand under her skirt. I ran my fingers up her smooth, bare legs, and stopped cupping the back of one of her thighs. “What’s the matter?” I asked her.

Dawn was starting outside so there was just enough definition to the darkness for me to discern her shake her head. “Don’t ask,” she said. “Don’t speak. Just…” she took a long, deep breath. “…take me, now.”

Well, what man could resist an offer like that. With a pat on her thigh, I made room for her on the bed. Fully clothed, and never taking her hand off my cock, she climbed in beside me. Passion flared and once more we were lovers. Her body pressed against mine and we kissed deeply. She pushed her tongue between my lips, and I roamed my hands across her body, each mirroring the other’s hunger.

By feel, I determined she was wearing, besides the long skirt, a light cotton blouse plus bra and panties. As I’d surmised, her feet were bare and I also found that her shoulder length auburn tresses lay free. Our bodies intertwined and I began by unbuttoning the blouse, slipping one hand inside between the cloth and her bra. Zoe’s D-cup breasts had always held a fascination for me and she loved it when I played with them. She broke the kiss and let out a long sigh of pleasure, arching her chest against my fingers.

Slipping her leg over my hips, Zoe moved to straddle me and cast her blouse aside. By coincidence, our hands then each went to the other’s chest. I slipped my fingers up beneath the satin cups of her bra to caress the soft, warm flesh help within, while she reached down and trailed her painted nails through my coarse chest hair. My thumbs located her nipples and found them delightfully stiff. I teased them for a while before sliding my hands upwards to slip the bra off those wonderful boobs.

Zoe squirmed out of the bra and tossed it in the general direction that the blouse had gone. Before I had a chance to return to caressing her now bare chest, she planted a hand firmly on mine, lightly pinning me to the bed as she adjusted her position. She moved to plant her panty-clad crotch directly on mine and slowly rode back and forth along the length of my trapped arousal.

I reached up above my head and crossed my hands at the wrist. The light in the room was growing now, the greyness enough for us to see each others faces now. With a sharp movement, Zoe took my hint, moving her hand from my chest to my wrists. Suddenly, she was the dominant one, lying atop me and taking her pleasure. Her full, free breasts rubbed slowly against my firm, broad chest while, beneath the long, flowing skirt, she ground her cunt almost harshly against the prone spire of my manhood.

I gazed up into her eyes and was rewarded by the fire of lust in her eyes. It dawned on me, then, just how long it had been since I’d seen that desire. She was, as I said, married, but the level our friendship was no secret to her husband. Indeed, Richard and I were on good terms, with each other. He had seen that Zoe still held a candle for me and we came to an amicable arrangement. There were desires that Zoe had that he didn’t care for. Desires that I was all too willing to indulge in. So he permitted me to continue “seeing” Zoe, so long as he always had first call on her affections and so long as I brought her back in one piece. Zoe, for her part, was most happy with this arrangement. She could spend her days with the man she loved. When she yearned for something a little more, I was there to whisk her away to some secluded location, before returning her refreshed, invigorated and ever more in love with her husband.

And yet, as I thought about it, our weekends away had slowly become less and less about her and I having sex. We had spent one weekend exploring spanking, another we had dressed in leather and latex and visited a fetish club (I still had that outfit in my closet; no idea when I’d ever wear it again), one weekend we had swapped gender. Each weekend had been a lark: exciting, sexy, a great experience. But many times we’d ended up just masturbating each other to climax or just never getting around to sex.

So to see the passion and the desire back in her eyes was a most welcome sight. My cock twitched beneath her and I gave a lusty growl. She kissed me once more, her hair falling around my face in a little cocoon. I pulled at my arms and she grinned playfully. The tightening of her fingers around my wrists told me “I’m holding you, but you’re welcome to try to free yourself.” I did so. I squirmed and wriggled beneath this wonderful woman until I’d worked one hand free and we were panting and grinning broadly at each other.

I flipped her off me, onto the bed and slipped one leg between hers. My hand tunnelled back under that voluminous skirt, quickly finding her hot, damp panties. I ground one finger against her, pushing the soft cotton between her lips. Zoe bit her bottom lip and rolled her hips in counter rhythm. I tugged the material aside and firmly plunged my middle finger full-length into her hot, wet sex. Zoe let out a heated gasp and gripped the sheet beneath her firmly. As I started to stroke my finger in and out, maddeningly slowly, I used my free hand to unbutton her skirt. I watched carefully as her bare chest rose and fell. I timed my strokes to those increasing breaths but, before she reached her peak, I pulled my finger out and ground my palm flat against her mons. She whimpered a little, begging for release. Instead I grabbed at the waistband of her skirt and, with a decisive tug, pulled both it and her panties down her long, muscular legs.

Zoe put her legs together to pull them out of the skirt and, then in the half-light, caught my eye. Kneeling beside her, I gazed down at this wonderful naked redhead who I was privileged to call my friend. Holding my eyes, she slowly and deliberately parted her knees, spreading her arms and legs and opening herself to my hungry, appreciative gaze.

From experience, I knew what this meant and, with a song in my heart I murmured “I’ll get a condom,” and stepped off the bed.

Zoe rolled after me and I felt her hand on my buttock. “Not today. I want… just you.”

I turned and looked down at her. “Are you sure? You want me… inside you?”

She nodded. “Trust me?”

My smile was warm. “Always.”

And so it was that, with a moment of wordless negotiation, Zoe straddled my crotch again. This time, she had her back to me. I rested one hand on her soft, beautiful behind and watched as she lifted a little, reached down and took hold of my cock, then guided it slowly to her sex. The first touch was like… Like nothing else. She was so hot, so soft and so aroused; I was rock hard and throbbing fit to burst. She lowered herself slowly, savouring every millimetre of the penetration. I could feel her smooth, shaven labia parting around my cockhead. I felt the warm, liquid heat of her sex envelop the hot, dry head of my penis. She hissed out a long, deeply satisfied sigh as she lowered her hips towards mine, and inch after inch of my arousal nestled so snugly, so perfectly into hers.

She came to rest on me and for a long moment, we just stayed there, feeling each others lust, each other’s heartbeat. Lovingly, I caressed by fingertips across the curves of her buttocks. She leaned forward and drew herself upwards several inches. I gasped at the sensation and had to curl my toes and finger to fight the quivering urge that threatened to overwhelm me. The urge subsided and I relaxed, finding Zoe waiting for me, just the head of my cock nestled inside her.

The next few minutes were instinctive, impossibly well choreographed. We had fucked ‘bareback’ a few times back in University, but it had typically been while drunk and neither of us had particularly cared whether it was good, just that it satisfied. This was a whole different ball game. The time I didn’t want to come and leave her unfulfilled and she sensed this, pausing or adjusting her rhythm until the wave of passion passed.

I don’t know how long we lasted. Every second seemed like a minute, filled with so much sensation that my whole body tingled from my hair to my toes. Her body trembled atop me, cloyingly damp with sweat, as I drove my hips hard into her wet, sucking cunt.

Even as there were times when my passion threatened to overwhelm me, so there were moments when her passion overwhelmed her. One moment, her rump would be riding up and down my slick length, the next, she’d drop her head down and I could feel the ripples of a climax milking my shaft. Without missing a beat, I’d pick up the rhythm, intensifying the moment with my thrusts.

Eventually, though, a wave of pleasure built inside me. I tensed, I fought it. But the thrill of my lover’s sex around my cock drove the wave onwards. I pistoned deeper, harder into her. The wave broke, engulfed me and, with a shuddering groan I came hard. I felt her continuing to ride my cock. I don’t know if she was cumming at that point, all I knew was that each thrust gave me another spasm and another jet of my cum flooded deep inside her. My head swam, my balls ached..

The morning sunlight filled the room dimly, filtering through the curtains and flooding warmly across our naked, intertwined, glistening bodies. I took a moment to slow my breathing back down and recentre myself, taking stock of the situation.

Thomas lay prone beside me, dead to the world, sprawled bonelessly in the centre of the bed. I was curled alongside him. One leg hooked over his, my arm across his strong chest, my head on his shoulder.

I DO love this man, I thought to myself, but it’s not the same love as with Richard. I had thought that Thomas was my soul mate. He had looked after me in School, he had loved me in University, but after meeting Richard I had realised that… somehow that wasn’t enough. I enjoyed every minute I spent with Thomas, but I couldn’t see him and I buying a house together or having kids. I’d never even met his parents.

I looked up at his face, the face I knew so well. It has to be now, I told myself. This is not a time to be distracted by yet another fetish. He deserves to be told.

I’d realised that Thomas was like an addiction. When I was with Richard, it seemed to take so much effort not to think of Thomas. Apparently there had been nights when Richard had been woken by me rutting him and calling out Thomas’ name in my sleep. And yet, when I returned from a weekend with Thomas, all I could think about was Richard’s smile as I opened the door.

It was not right for either of them for me to be so split between them. I had to quit the addiction and focus my energy. The plan had been to tell him last night and I’d chickened out. Then… this morning… well, that was a good way to start the day in anyone’s books.

I twirled my fingers through his chest hair once more and he stirred. His eyes opened and he moved his hand a little to trail the knuckle of his index finger against my shaven mons.

“Morning,” I teased, feeling a smile break out.

“Mmm, good morning,” he concurred. “How’re you?”

“I’m pregnant.” Crud. So much for breaking the news to him gently. Curse you, brain.

Thomas’ eyes flicked wide open and he tensed beneath me. Silly boy. I dug my fingernails firmly into his chest, holding him still. “Don’t be silly. Of course it’s not you. It doesn’t happen that quickly…” He may have been wondrously smart, but there were times I wondered if he left his brain at home.

He watched me like a hawk for several long moments, then his brain caught up and he began to relax again. “You’re…. You’re pr… Congratulations, I suppose.”

I smiled and rubbed my head against his shoulder. “Thank you, hun. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

“When did you find out?”

“Friday. You’re the second person I’ve told.”

He slipped his arm around my shoulders and we embraced quietly for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Even though I was in the arms of a man I loved and still quivering with pleasure from his wonderful love-making, I could feel myself tense as I knew what I had to say next. He could feel it too, but he didn’t say a word; just patiently waited.

“That’s why…” Dammit, why was this so hard. I’d rehearsed this moment so many times. Granted, few of them has us naked post-sex. I took a deep breath. Still the words didn’t come. I clenched my jaw and spat the words out in a rush “.. I don’t want to see you again.”

I expected Thomas to run away, to slap me, maybe to faint. Instead, he held me a little tighter and nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want…”

I shook my head, suddenly fierce, suddenly angry at him for being so damn understanding. “No. It’s not. And it’s not what you want. But its what must be.”

And we Talked. With a capital T. Suddenly, we weren’t naked, we weren’t lovers, we were two people who knew each other So Well. He listened as I told him about my addiction. He offered some possible solutions but I… I couldn’t. Breaking up with him seemed like the only possible option to me.

Of course, he wasn’t happy with it, but he accepted it. “If it makes you happy” he kept saying, “If that’s what you want.” Of course it didn’t make me happy, if wasn’t what I wanted. I WANTED to spend so many nights with him. I still had so many fantasies we’d discussed that we’d not explored. But this is the way it had to be.

Some time later, I became aware I was curled up on the bed, hot tears dripping down my cheeks. Thomas was lying beside me and I could see his eyes swimming, but he fought to remain strong. I smiled up at him and sniffed back my tears. That brought a grin to his wonderful face. Maybe it’s just how well I knew him or maybe it was something about Thomas’ personality, but he had this habit of “thinking loudly” as I called it, and he was doing it now. I could see thoughts whirling around in his head. “Go on,” I said with a soft smile.

“You said this weekend was to be the end of us?”

I nodded, sadly.

“The weekend’s not over yet.”

“You’re incorrigible, Thomas! Insatiable!”

“That’s why you love me,” he grinned.

“It’s also why I’m giving you up. But yes… at the end of the weekend.”

“May I…” Thoughts swirled in him. I gave them a moment. Was he deciding what to ask for? Was he coming up with the right words? “There’s no delicate way to ask for this,” he concluded.

“Then be crude.”

“May I lick my cum out of your cunt?”

I shivered against him as that image ran through my mind. Cunnilingus was something I rarely indulged in. Thomas was, as it seemed with all his sexual skills, uncommonly good at it. I was just rarely in the mood for it. It would be so good to have his face between my sticky thighs, his tongue working inside me, drawing that cum out…

“No,” I heard myself say with a decisive shake of my head. “I should go shower.”

“Can I join you?” he asked with a grin.

“OK. But be good.” I uncurled and brushed away my tears.

“I’m always good,” he protested.

“You’re the naughtiest man I know!” I cried as I swung my legs off the bed.

“Thank you,” he chuckled.

He followed me into the en suite and I just knew he’d have his eyes on my bare bottom. But then, were our places exchanged, I’d only be checking his out too. Just… less obviously, of course. I balanced delicately on my toes as I reached in and turned the water to a comfortable temperature. “Do you want to go first?” I offered.

“I thought we were showering together.”

“Of course,” I grinned, and stepped under the water. He followed me in and we found there was ample room for two. I grabbed the soap and, turning away from him, began to wash the sweat from my body. Thomas stepped close and I felt his cock press between my wet buttocks. I was only a little surprised that he was hard again. I elbowed him in the ribs, playfully. “I said be good.”

His cock swelled between my cheeks. “This isn’t good?”

I had to force myself to say “No” and the poking was removed.

“Is this good?” he asked, reaching around to take the soap. He lathered up his hands and began to massage my breasts.

“Yes,” I whispered.

We continued like that. Is running his soapy hands over my belly good? Yes. Is plunging his wet fingers over my mons and teasing my crotch good? No. Is soaping up my bum good? Yes. Is teasing a finger into my anus good? That took me longer that I really should have taken to say no.

When we decided I was thoroughly clean, we swapped places. I didn’t need to ask what was good and what was not. I knew it’d all be good for him. So I washed him off in companionable silence.

As I turned to turn the water off, he coughed delicately. “I can’t help but notice you missed a bit.”

I turned back. “Did I?” I asked innocently.

“You did.”

“And what bit might that be, sir?” I may have even fluttered my eyes at him.

“My cock.” Slowly, we each lowered our eyes to his cock. It was rock hard, pointing directly at me, as if accusing.

Oh, how I wanted him to pin me against the shower glass and fuck me senseless there and then. I held my nerve, though. “But we’re all out of soap,” I lied.

He leaned forward and gave me his dirtiest, most lecherous leer. “Then use your titties, my dear.”

I melted. I got down on my knees before him, took my nipples between my fingers and held my water-slicked chest out for him. He rested his hot, red prick in the valley of my breasts. I pressed them tight around him and he quickly began to thrust eagerly. I watched, rapt, as that cockhead appeared and disappeared from my décolletage. In remarkably little time he began to huff and puff then he came, with characteristic copiousness, all over the top of my tits. I must admit I liked the feel of his semen on my bare skin. However, I stayed in character and clucked my tongue at him.

“Tsk, now I’m all dirty again. I shall need to clean this off.”

Chest heaving, he grinned down at me. “You could leave it like that.”

I could. I could so easily just let that cock-cream dry on my chest and smell him on me for the rest of the day but, again, I knew I mustn’t. So I soaped it off and turned the shower off at last.

As we towelled ourselves off, he stepped close, put a hand on my bum and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, lovingly.

“For the shower?” I laughed, a little confused.

“For everything. I don’t agree with your decision, but I understand it and I’ll respect it.”

“Thank you,” I nodded, knowing that this wouldn’t work without his understanding.

“You know how to find me if you ever change your…”

“I won’t.” I interrupted. “I can’t.” I gazed into his eyes for a long moment. “I can’t.” I repeated, mostly to myself.

He wrapped his arms around me and we hugged for a long moment. It felt perfect; I didn’t want it to end. And then he kinda spoiled it by getting yet another erection. “Thomas!” I cried. He simply grinned, apologetically. I stepped out of the bathroom to go get dressed.