I swallow and gasp even before my throat is back in position when I remember where the glistening on her fingertip comes from. As if all it took for me to forget were the five seconds she deliberately took to transport the essence of her lust from her pussy to this pair of plump, kissable cushions I fell in love with the moment I lay my eyes upon them.
My gaze closely follows as her full lips hug the tip of her index. They naturally curl into her signature, enthralling cheeky half-smile as my gaping mouth all-too-overtly gives away my mesmerized stupor.
***
I had moved here for work, away from a happy, wholesome and thriving marriage. The job situation had demanded it and the compromise of finding a place that was halfway in between for both of us had not been a viable option. It was so absurd, in fact, that we hadn’t even considered it. I would go home over the weekends, indulge in your tender love and care. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, we had promised each other in the afterglow of a mutual mind-shattering orgasm shortly after crying our eyes out over the impending separation.
You had always been the type for powerful, sometimes impulsive emotions, dragging me along with your unconditional compassion although I was always giving my best at being strong for both of us. Sometimes, though, being strong means allowing oneself the emotions and showing them. It’s you who had taught me that. As a reply to my telling you I was no good for a relationship. Still, you’d chosen to stubbornly love me until I just... caved to the overwhelming affection I had before not been able to admit I’d been feeling for you.
***
Right now, my eyes are transfixed on the spoon that slides out of her mouth, enticingly hugged by those fleshy, puckered lips, making me wish I could trade places with that inanimate piece of cutlery. Obliviously, her eyes stare past me into the emptiness of my rudimentarily equipped kitchen—not quite your typical art déco setup. Rather... collegiate, the euphemism as fitting as blatant. It made my belly churn from the shame over my general disregard of beyond-functional interior design.
At my age, a higher—more mature—standard of living would normally be expected. Yet, it is mainly hindered by my limited funds... my habitual silly excuse for my unwillingness to grow up, which you so fondly regale on? And now I’m just hoping she doesn’t notice my growing mortification over the Spartan setting. As if a nineteen-year-old girl who grew up in a comparable housing minded.
Irresistibly drawn to the lips framing her mysterious smile, my mind is filled with pictures of what her dark flesh might feel like on mine... or exploring every corner of my body, brushing my pale skin, sucking my earlobe, kissing my belly, my buttocks, the inside of my thighs, my...
***
...goodness, I couldn’t help thinking, barely able to direct the shameless gasp inward when she opened the door to my knocking. After a few weeks of acclimatization, the intention had been to be polite and introduce myself to the neighbors on my floor. It most certainly hadn’t been to become tongue-tied in the face of a giggling teenage girl, much less to be instantly hypnotized by her lips. Without realizing my lack of manners, I shamelessly gawked at each contraction and pout of her mouth, drawn to it as I had never before thought possible.
I barely managed to remember to introduce myself. The juvenile creaking in my voice as I failed to pronounce all of my name’s two syllables didn’t help. Well, it made her titter and her eyes light up in delight, so at least she didn’t hate me. Still, it only added to my towering insecurities despite the age gap. Not the first time this happened to her, I presumed; not the first time someone instinctively tried to stiffly keep their hand in their pocket to conceal the wedding ring. My breath kept stuck in my throat at how her wisdom-radiating eyes only emphasized her smile, stretching those kissable lips.
Despite being significantly younger, she didn’t even need to raise her voice to wrap me around her little finger. Within seconds, she had captured my undivided attention to the stark contrast between her white teeth and her complexion. The luster on her pitch-dark skin naturally highlighted her cheekbones while her hair cascaded down her back in thin braids all the way to her toned derrière. A few of them were strategically falling down her front and tastefully emphasized her bust she kept hidden under a few sizes too-large college hoodie. From her boyfriend? Her older brother? Who knew? Should I ask? Not quite the most subtle question after just meeting someone.
I was swallowing hard at the sole recognition of what fantasies were bewitching me upon the sight of her inviting lips. And yet I hadn’t even noticed her dark irises that appeared like a pair of circular hickory petals, seamlessly melting into her pupils, forming bottomless wells...
***
…in which I only realize now I’ve allowed myself to fall into. I’m far too drawn by her nubile beauty to realize my lack of shame when just the tip of her tongue tantalizingly licks the cake crumbs from her lips, instantly catching my gaze. My heart nearly stops when she looks right back into my eyes. My jaw stupidly clicks open.
She caught me staring —no, vulgarly ogling! Lucky me, it wasn’t her ample bosom whose jiggle holds the promise of it being just as soft as her lips. Oh, to snuggle up to her side, lay my head to rest on her breasts and let her kiss me good night after letting our lips explore each other’s bodies—Fuck! Not again! Get your shit together! I mutter my self-deprecation under my breath.
Insecurely, my mouth remains dumbly agape. Mentally, preparing myself for the uncomfortable farewell over my all-too-obvious staring, my eyes keep trying to find a hold on hers... or her mouth that’s just ajar with a slightly crooked, omniscient, and yet disarming smile.
Her half-closed gaze still following every movement of mine, she tucks her teeth into her bottom lip. I swallow emptily at this overt display of what I’ve dreamt of doing since the day she first greeted me. Slowly, she approaches me, too well aware of the effect her deliberate show of lust has on me, too well aware of how her perfectly staged act makes me forget whoever would usually dwell in my impure thoughts. If only it weren’t for those gorgeously plump cushions...
I am paralyzed by the irrational fear that I may have angered her with my obvious ogling and that she is about to leave and let my apartment walls tremble with the banging of the door, never to be seen again. Anticipating her rejection, I try to will myself to melt into the wooden backrest of my chair. With limited success, evidently, leaving me to face the unaltered horrors of humiliation by my fleeting acquaintance... and the premature brushing off of my newfound fondness of her lips before I can even give in to my curiosity and explore it.
Already trying to come to terms with the loss of the prettiest pout that has ever stolen and shattered my heart, all I manage when I feel her hand on my knee is...
***
...a startled “eep!” as the door flung open and I was greeted with the same beaming set of teeth framed by those thick lips as just three days before. She chuckled in reply to my clumsy greeting. This overly familiar déjà-vu seemed to become a habit of mine. Well, you knock on the door and what do you expect, genius?
“H-hey,” I stammered, internally congratulating myself sarcastically for being able to incoherently stutter one whole syllable, yet cussing about my inability to chat with a girl barely more than half my age. If only I had been able to get those lips out of my mind... but that was the singular reason why I had convinced myself to even knock and invite her over. No, it had made me absentmindedly follow my disturbed hormonal urges in the haze of my foolish, post-juvenile loss of self-control. I just had to let the sight of her pretty mouth evoke luscious daydreams to lose myself in.
Hadn’t it been for the renewed rush of heart-melting warmth in my belly I felt beholding her breathtaking beauty, I’d have cursed myself for being such a creep. What reason could her new, much older neighbor possibly have to invite her to bond over coffee? Did girls her age nowadays even enjoy such boring, homely activities like sharing a cup? I couldn’t even offer her a fashionable playlist, as my taste in music was even old for my age. And for snacks? Some stale bread, old cheese and long-crystallized vanilla ice cream? For Chrissakes, when did I become so old and square? The piece of delicious walnut cake I had brought home from work—almost a week ago? Please still be edible, came my ejaculatory prayer that I only just swallowed, lips still moving with the words.
The batting of her eyelashes together with her knowing smile almost washed away all my doubts. Just the near-compulsive urge to feel her soft kisses on my skin naturally led me to go for the simplest option and just offer her coffee before my mind could protest.
“I’d love to come over.” Her voice made my knees weaken and my heart jump as her mouth moved in slow-motion, pronouncing every syllable. With every word that came, her full, puckered lips exaggerated every letter, making my head spin. I thought I’d see her incisors enticingly rake over them before she added, “Do you mean, like, now?”
Never before had I felt my heart pounding up my throat so intensely. Still, it was nothing compared to the swarm of butterflies her ever so light touch on my forearm released when I barely registered the sounds her lips kept forming passed my ears unheard.
“...uh, I should have some cake—uh, walnut, I think,” I tentatively offered, assuming, given the situation, that she had asked whether we’d have something to munch on.
“I can’t drink cake, silly?” came her cheery reply, accompanied by a gentle tap on my upper arm and her other hand, much to my dismay, covering her pretty mouth. The corner of her eyes wrinkled in her angelic laughter. “I was asking if I could have something else to drink, silly. I don’t like coffee.”
Dumb, silly me.
I wished for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I gave her my best chuckle and replied, “I can make you a tea—Earl Grey.” Did I really just offer her grandmother-flavored dishwater? Idiot! “Or I can make you a hot chocolate, I got excellent cocoa powder—I like it heavy and bl...itter,” I blurted, nearly rolling my eyes at my quasi-averted Freudian slip in my desperate attempt at not to being awkward. She may just have missed my linguistic lapse... or noticed it because of my clumsy correction. Ugh, she’s just a girl, stupid! As if clumsily tip-toeing around her skin color made the situation any better, doofus!
“That,” she began, deliciously biting her lip to keep herself from bursting into laughter, “bl...itter chocolate,” grinning so wide I had to swallow hard at the sight of her stretched lips, “sounds... delicious,” my head tricking me into hearing a sultry undertone in the emphasis on the last word.
***
I can still hear her say it, see her tongue flicking on that word’s second syllable and her lips exaggeratedly pouting on the last one. Her voice still resonates in my skull as she leans over me still sitting in my chair. I feel her breath approaching just before her luscious lips softly peck mine. In a matter of a single, fleeting kiss, any remaining thought of you and possible betrayal is lost in the blur of my surprise.
The contrast between the darkness of her full lips and the teeth nervously nibbling on them is only emphasized by the flush on her cheeks that pushes through her ebony complexion. All I’m capable of while I’m drinking in the sight of her mouth is a petrified gaze. Meanwhile, my mind is idly cycling with a flood of shapeless thoughts, lost in our ever so brief touch.
I can barely close my mouth to swallow emptily only to let it fall open again. Her hand still on my thigh, I put mine on hers. Eyes locked with mine, she accepts my touch, lets me guide hers further up the inside of my thigh where gradually, it disappears under my skirt, nears the crotch of my panties that have long ago turned into a puddle.
Again, her lips approach mine, more confident this time, hungrier, hotter, plumper. I feel my whole body weaken. The electricity of her touch evokes desires I never knew I had, desires not even you, for obvious reasons, could ever awake, let alone satisfy. I want to squirm. I want to moan. I want to be at her mercy, at the mercy of another girl, at the mercy of her beautiful lips. I want to feel them on my more intimate set of lips, sucking in my folds and lavishing in my nectar.
Unconsciously, with her hand still on my thigh, I part my legs, making my skirt slide up, uncovering more of my skin. I am aware my plain cotton panties are now visible, and with them, the rising heat that’s been dripping from my crotch slowly saturating them to a dripping wardrobe malfunction.
I blush when her gaze shifts from my eyes to the wet patch between my legs as I see the tip of her tongue brushing her half-parted lips unconsciously. Abashed, I lower my eyes and protectively cover my mouth with my hand as I turn my face away, tears swelling in my eyes.
How have I called you silly and obnoxiously laughed over your chauvinistic views when you gathered all your courage and shared your threesome fantasy with me—two girls driving each other to ecstasy for your blokey viewing pleasure. Or worse, both worshiping your erection. Despite the fact that all you cared about was to see me blossom in the throes of sexual bliss by someone else’s touch, I decried your fantasy as a remainder of sexist teenage pipe dreams.
Shame washes over me as it dawns on me that I am about to indulge in just that which I have disclaimed as impossible, and cheat on you.
And yet, the hand I feel turning my mind around, the one that removes mine out of the way, the eyes that I find staring into mine and the lips that plant a loving peck on my trembling ones wash away all thoughts of you. By the time I close my eyes and return the kiss, you are but merely a distant memory on the agitated horizon of the stormy sea she has turned my mind into. When my fingers intertwine with her braids, you have been flushed past the border of my attention.
Hungrily, I try to mimic the softness of her plump flesh with my all-too-thin lips as her tongue invades my mouth. I can’t help a moan into hers as she sits down on my lap, never breaking the kiss. Her body melts into mine, her breasts squished against mine through her sweater, fueling the wish to free her from the annoying garments that keep our skin from touching.
I squirm in frustration, already yearning for her closeness as she’s only just parted from me and stands up. My gaze follows her as she kneels in front of me and stares back at me with her big eyes and sensual pout. Gently, she pulls my thighs, motioning me to sit on the edge of my chair.
I blush again at her intention but willingly grant her access to my ruined undergarments. I swallow wordlessly and slowly nod, cheeks on fire in humiliation. An anticipating moan escapes my mouth as she looks at me.
Eyes half-closed, she inches her face to my crotch. At first, I just sense the tip of her outstretched tongue through the drenched fabric. I feel her push it between my swollen labia that willingly swallow the material. Teasingly, she licks them, deliberately omitting my clit that is begging for attention, irresistibly poking against the straining cotton.
My hands develop a life of their own, running over my body, seeking naked skin as I feel her sucking my nether lips, nibbling on them. I gasp with increasing frustration as she uses her hand to purposefully strain my panties further against my needy pearl.
As she, at last, pulls the crotch of my panties from my pussy’s hug, the faint breeze from her breathing fires my nerve endings ecstatically. I throw my head back, awaiting her to use her lips to kiss me, make out with my kitten, devour my petals, ravage my poor temple. All the greater is my frustration as after a single, yet deep kiss, I feel her break contact and stand up.
A feeble, whiny protest leaves my mouth but is soon silenced by her lips. Glistening from the film of my juices, they land on mine, feeding me the taste of my own lust. A shudder runs through my body as her tongue plays with mine, slick from my secretions. Her lips crash on mine so softly yet intensely like a suffocatingly fluffy pillow that I can’t help squirming on the chair and moaning onto her lips. The string of saliva that snaps against my shirt the moment she parts again only serves as a testimony of our ardent desire.
My voice shivers as she kneels down again and I feel her repeat the same passionate kiss with my nether lips. I feel one finger slowly enter my pussy and probe the wet tightness clenching on it while she feasts on me. Still, she’s leaving my nub exposed to the cool air, further delaying the release I so dearly crave by now.
Desperately, I try to adjust my position, to get her to claim my clit with her plump lips, yet she counters all of my movements with a slight corrective shift to keep avoiding what I covet most.
Frustrated tears nearly shoot out of my eyes the moment she breaks contact anew to look into them.
The words she mouths are so silent I barely even hear them. “Come for me,” I read on her lips, mouthing each syllable teasingly the single most urgent desire I’ve had since I first fell in love at first sight with them.
Just as she fulfills my innermost fantasy, I feel my insides begin to dissolve into an aching cry of pent-up orgasmic bliss. From deep within, my body starts to tremble as an unstoppable wave surges in my core, crashing through my entire body. I cry her name as I close my eyes to see flashes lighting up and the thrashing thunder that follows breaking through me.
Spastic convulsions follow an erratic rhythm as slowly, my orgasm abates and the realization of my infidelity hits me in the back of my head without warning. Cheeks inflamed, tears shoot into my eyes and a feeling of deep pudency besets me.
My moans turn into half-sobs over how easily I have cheated on you and gave in to acts I nonchalantly brushed aside as ridiculous and springing from the remainders of your fragile male ego. Oh, how I lovingly chided you as ‘boys will be boys’ when you overcame your shame and confessed your oh-so-stereotypical fantasies.
Suddenly, my phone on the table starts vibrating, your pet name glaring at me, the hum of the vibrations amplified by the thin wood, deafeningly blaring into my ears.
Insecurely, I look at her, face reddening to an unhealthy feverish hue. Smiling softly, she swipes the red phone icon left and bites her bottom lip again.
In a matter of seconds, the missed phone date with you is forgotten.
All it took was a set of lips like hers.
