8 comments/ 25960 views/ 10 favorites Stealing Bliss By: SoraRabbit I was in the middle of my workout when she caught my eye. I had already hit the weights and was on the treadmill. It seemed there was something familiar about her, but maybe I just wanted there to be. She was breathtakingly beautiful—I'll admit, that was the first thing that struck me about her. Her long, dark brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. She was wearing no makeup and was looking around, lost, as if unsure of what to do. She looked like she'd just stepped into the gym—fresh and ready to exert herself. Newbie, I thought. She was wearing a tank top that showed off the smooth, creamy skin on her shoulders, arms and neck. It was low-cut enough to show a hint of cleavage without being overt about it. She had nice-sized breasts. Very large and round. Her tank top was baggy around the middle, and tucked into black tights that showed off a round, firm bottom and strong thighs. She had well-shaped, long legs. She looked to be about my height, and really young. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she worked on the free weights and then found a treadmill across from me. I would look away, but inevitably my gaze would come back to her. It made me feel like a creep, but I couldn't help it. She wasn't the usual type I saw around there, and at the time, she was the only woman in the place. I know those are not valid excuses, but like I said, there was something about her that made me want to keep looking. To get my mind (and eyes) off her, I went to the ab machine. As I did my crunches, I glanced up and thought I saw her looking away from me. If she had or hadn't, I didn't get the chance to know for sure, because by the time I dared to look again, she was gone. I finished up, stretched, and went to the locker room. It was mostly empty. I went to the locker where I'd stashed my gym bag, pulling off my sweaty shirt. Standing in my shoes and shorts, I looked myself over, giving my reflection a half frown. It was a nice illusion to believe a woman like that had been looking at me, but it couldn't be true. My chest was broad and my biceps weren't bad, but I was still working unsuccessfully on my six pack. I'd developed a bit of flab before becoming more active, and it was being stubborn. I was just shy of six foot, slim. My legs were strong and toned. My hair was a light blondish-brown, and shaggy. I had stubble because I only shaved a couple of times a week, and gray had started showing amongst the hairs. My eyes were green and sparkling. I'd often been told I have gentle eyes. Aside from all that, I found myself plain . . . nondescript. One of those guys who fade into a crowd. Tiring of my assessment of myself, I hit the shower, dressed and left. The night was cool—autumn was in the air. I had thought to bring my light jacket, but there was a big hole in the right knee of my jeans. I hadn't thought about how cold it had been lately when I put them on. I started towards my car, but changed my mind last minute. The sitter would have my son in bed by now, and what was the harm in paying her for another hour? I was in no rush to get back to my mostly-empty, quiet apartment. Slinging my gym bag over one shoulder, I instead went to the coffee shop down the block. I usually went there once or twice a week . . . even though it was a bad idea for me to have caffeine so late. What can I say? I felt like being bad. The coffee shop was as dimly-lit and busy as always. I found both things comforting. Sometimes being surrounded by strangers made my loneliness worse, sometimes better. Tonight, it seemed, the latter would be the case. I ordered my coffee, awkwardly flirting with the cute little barista. She knew me by sight, if not name. No matter how many times I told her "Jon", she always wrote "Jay" on my cup. Eh, close enough. Cute girls can get away with a lot with me. (And get inordinately large tips in the process.) Still smiling from the encounter, I went to an empty table in the back, sitting so I could observe the other patrons. I tucked my gym bag under my seat and stretched my sore muscles. As I sat and sipped my coffee, I thought back to the young woman in the gym. I could have tried talking with her. I was glad I didn't. It was tacky to hit on someone at a gym. Bad form. At least I thought it was. I didn't have any experience picking up women. All my relationships had been long term besides some fooling around in High School. So, regret or no, it was probably better that I didn't approach her. Same with the barista. Who wants to be asked out at work? Flirting I could do . . . I found myself inadvertently flirting a lot these days. With cashiers, coworkers, my doctor, my best friend . . . I didn't think it was something I could help. It had to be a subconscious reaction to my loneliness. I'd never been like that before. It was a strange and frustrating contradiction—to be able to flirt shamelessly, but not be brave enough to back up the flirting with anything substantial. The scrape of a chair a few feet away caught my attention. I glanced up and saw a pretty new arrival. She had long, brown hair worn down, and was wearing black-rimmed glasses , a thin-strapped black blouse, and tight, form-fitting jeans. She turned away from me to put a gym bag under her chair and I got a glimpse of her bottom—round and firm. As funny and horrible as it sounds, it was her ass that gave her away. This was the beautiful newcomer from the gym! I watched her sit and sip from her coffee, trying to hide my examination of her with a pull from my own cup. As I discretely watched her—taking in her big, round eyes, her narrow, arched eyebrows, her full tender lips that curved at the edges as though she were always smiling to herself about something . . . I suddenly realized I'd seen this woman before. My initial impression at the gym was that I'd recognized her, and now I was sure that was true. I'd been thrown off by seeing her in an unfamiliar place, without the glasses, and with her hair pulled back. I'd seen this woman several times before. In fact I'd noticed her at the coffee shop a couple of times, and at a gas station nearby. At the grocery store a mile away wrangling three kids along with her cart. She must live close, like me. It could be a coincidence that I'd seen her so often—it wasn't a huge city—but at that moment, it felt like it must mean something. As she played with her phone, I forced myself to look away, concentrating on my hands, my coffee, anything. I felt jittery and nervous, and it wasn't from the coffee. I'd barely drank any of it. I was nervous because I'd decided to seize the moment. I had to talk with this sexy creature, or I'd hate myself for a month. Sometimes deciding on a course of action can help-- not in this case. I was stressed out. I wondered if this was why I only flirted with the inaccessible. Women behind counters and on the clock; my doctor who was far too professional to reciprocate; my best friend who lived 1600 miles away. It made sense. I could only be brave when there was a barrier. I knew I hadn't always been this way. I'd had three long-term relationships, and I had been the initiator in all cases. "Excuse me?" said a small voice. I looked up. As I'd worked myself into an oblivious frenzy of nerves, the woman had come over to me and was standing in front of my table, hands crossed in front of her. I tried to answer, but was so taken by surprise that I couldn't. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I've seen you around before." I took a breath and found my voice. "Yes—the gym. Are you new there?" She nodded. "Yes. This was my first visit. Can I . . . can I join you?" She looked up and our eyes met. Hers looked greenish in the low light of the shop. I found it amazing that a woman this physically perfect could be shy, but that was what the tone of her voice and her expression were conveying to me. Somehow this fact made me feel more at ease, and I found my courage returning. "I'd like that," I said, standing and gesturing to the empty chair across from me. She smiled and went back to her table to get her bag and coffee. This time she was facing me as she put her bag under her chair, and I caught a glimpse of her round breasts inside her blouse. With difficulty, I averted my eyes, not wanting to make her more nervous. As she sat down, I took a deep breath, hoping that I wasn't blushing. It felt like I was. She smiled slightly, offered her hand and said, "My name's Amy." I took her hand and gently squeezed. It was so soft. "Jonathan," I said, taking my hand back and fidgeting with my coffee cup. "Er, Jon. Everyone calls me Jon. Except for the people who think my name is Jay." I chuckled, feeling dumb. She giggled at this, but I could see some confusion in her expression. She seemed to disregard this, though, and said, "I've seen you around, and not just at the gym." "Is that so?" I asked. I wondered briefly why I was being coy and decided to just go with it. "Yeah," she continued. "Here a few times, at the grocery store. You probably never noticed me." She smiled broadly at me for a moment and went back to her coffee. Her smile was infectious. "I've noticed," I admitted. "You're the pretty woman with all the kids." She laughed at this. "Right. That's me. The mom. I've seen you with a kid too. Is he yours?" "Yes he is. Johnny. I'm one of those single dads. So I take it your husband is too busy to watch your children while you go grocery shopping?" I hoped I wasn't being too obvious with this question, but I had to know. I didn't see a ring, but you couldn't be sure . . . "My husband is . . . out of the picture. Kicked him out. Working on the divorce now." "I'm sorry to hear that," I said, suitably concerned. I wasn't sorry. No, not at all. This meant she was free. "I've been there myself, and it's a bad time. But ultimately, it's for the best." She nodded. "It is. It's stressful, but I feel much better without him." "If it's none of my business, please tell me so, but what happened?" She seemed eager to talk about it. "He was a liar. And a cheat. Immature. There were a lot of reasons. We were all wrong for each other—got married way too young." "That can do it. Hey, at least you realized before you wasted your whole life. You're still young, right? You look young." "I am. I'm twenty-two." "See? You have plenty of time to find someone who fits you." I didn't show it, but I flinched inwardly at the age difference between us. I was thirty-three at the time, and my last girlfriend had been the same age as Amy. "I guess," she said. "My husband is two years older than me, but never acted like it. I felt like the only adult in the relationship." "Some people never grow up," I said. "So, what are you looking for in a new relationship?" She thought about this for a moment. "No idea," she finally admitted, laughing. "But I do know I'm in no hurry to get involved with anyone any time soon." "Probably a good idea." "Yeah. I know it won't be hard to find someone better than my ex, but I need to figure myself out first." "That's important," I agreed. "I've been working out a lot—at home until tonight. Dieting. Working on losing the weight from my pregnancies. They all happened one after the other, so I never got the chance until now." "Whatever you're doing must be working," I said. "You look amazing." She looked down, and I could see her blush even in the dim light. "Thanks. Everyone always tells me that, but I can't see it. I'm not to where I want to be yet." "You'll get there. Just keep working at it," I said, encouragingly. Although I couldn't see what else she needed to do. She looked incredible. Nowhere near fat, not skinny . . . she had curves and that was what had always attracted me to women. "My ex never wanted me to lose weight," she said, with a touch of bitterness. "And he would have freaked out if he'd seen what I wore to the gym." "Didn't like you wearing revealing clothes?" "Nope. But screw him. I can wear what I want now." "Exactly!" I agreed, grinning. She was losing her shyness the longer we talked and I was getting little glimpses of her personality through her words and tone. Here was a woman who'd been subjugated for a long time. Only now was she able to start to break free and figure out who she was. I remembered a time like that for me after my own divorce. "And if he knew I was talking with a guy . . . and not just that, but a guy I don't really know? He used to get insanely jealous. Usually for no reason." "You're being rebellious," I offered, grinning. "Well, I guess. A little," she said, giving me a sweet smile as she tipped her eyes up to me. Strangely, they look blue now. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm not usually this open." "Maybe it's because you've seen me before?" I offered. "Could be," she said. "Or because you're a dad, or because you're cute. Or have a kind voice. I don't know. Maybe you just have a trustworthy face." I smiled at her unexpected barrage of compliments. "What, this old thing? I just wear it to pick up chicks in coffee houses." She giggled again. I was fast coming to like the sound of her giggle. And her voice. And, well, everything about her. "Honestly . . . " she said, her voice soft. "I kind of came in here tonight because I had a feeling you'd be here." "Really?" I asked, surprised. "Yeah. I promise I'm not a stalker! It's just, I don't know. You seemed interesting and I wanted to take a chance and talk with you. I figured it would be easier when we're not surrounded by kids." I gave her a reassuring smile. I'd actually found the admission flattering. "I understand. And so you're just looking for adult conversation?" She raised her eyebrows, bobbing her head. "Adult things, yes. It's a lot of mommy stuff day after day." "It can be stifling. You need time to be around adults too. Especially now that you're separated." "I wasn't with an adult before," she said, the bitterness tingeing her voice again. "Bad with money, no ambition, never helped with the kids or around the house. Sex couldn't even be called that." She blushed again, looking away. "Sorry. Too much information." "It's fine," I said, smiling. I wanted to stay on this subject. "I take it he left you unfulfilled?" "For years," she said, the bitterness turning to venom. "I was horrible. I . . . ugh. I won't even get into it. Just . . . awful." "That's no good," I said, gently, reaching out and resting my hand on her arm. I was starting to get an idea of why it was me she'd approached, although I was finding it hard to believe my perception of the situation. She looked at my hand and then up at me, her eyes big, sad and lovely. "Nothing I tried made it any better," she said, softly. "You can't be the only one trying. If he wasn't, that wasn't your fault." "He said it was," she said, looking down. Her other hand had crept to mine, and I gave her arm a little squeeze. "I know that it wasn't true. He was trying to hurt me. I'm sure of it. He just didn't put much effort into making it work. I don't know if he was lazy or inexperienced, or what." "Probably both." She nodded, but only barely. "He was a kid in a lot of ways," she said, sadly. "You need a man," I suggested. "Yeah I do." "He'll be one lucky bastard." She giggled. "If you say so." "Oh, I do," I insisted. "Sex shouldn't be awful. If you're with someone who knows what they're doing, who gives a damn about your needs . . . it can be bliss." "I'd like some bliss," she said, the longing clear in her voice. "You deserve some. But it's not always just going to happen. Sometimes you have to look for it. Go out, find someone willing and take some bliss for yourself." She gave me that sweet smile again. "I like that." The way Amy was looking at me, hopeful, still shy, but with increasing courage . . . the openness with which she had told me her story . . . these things all made me think my earlier theory had been correct. She had selected me for what she wanted to get out of that night. She'd had her mind made up already, and the whole conversation had been a test. Seeing how I'd react, if I was up for it, if I was safe. I was—I could attest to that, but looking over at the sweet, young, vulnerable woman across from me, I was very glad that I was the one she'd chosen. There were a lot of dangerous guys out there. I wondered why it had been me . . . she could have anyone, but she chose me. Was it because I looked gentle? Or a vibe she was getting from me? Or could it be that she was actually attracted to me and so desperate for a good experience that she was able to throw caution to the wind? "So maybe you do know what you want? At least for right now?" I asked, my eyes still on hers. She nodded, not looking away. "How sure are you?" I asked. "I know you're in a complicated place right now." "I am," she agreed. "Still, I'm sure about this. I've thought about it a lot. Too much. I don't want to get burdened down with emotions, or stuck in a new relationship. I can't bear to be hurt again. I just . . . I need something good. Something just for me." "I understand," I said, and I did. Hoping the test was over and the time was right for me to say this, I added, "We could go to my place." She didn't answer out loud, just nodded, but her hand gripped mine tightly. "If you change your mind-- " I started. She cut me off quickly. "I won't," she said, sounding like she knew it for a fact. I smiled. "Okay. But still." She nodded to this too, and I could see I didn't have to finish the thought. She could tell I was willing to call the whole thing off if she asked. She trusted me, and I would make sure that trust was in the right place. We grabbed our bags, tossed our mostly empty cups and left the shop. Once we got outside I took her free hand, smiling when I felt her holding it back. I led her to my car and unlocked the passenger door, opening it for her. I took her bag, dropped it into the trunk along with mine and went to the driver's side. Shortly after, we were driving. It wasn't a long drive to my apartment. I snuck glances at her now and then. She was sitting and staring straight ahead, not seeming to be looking at anything in particular. I was struck again by how unbelievably beautiful she was. This wasn't the sort of beauty that came from clothes, or makeup. Those things enhance it, sure, but her beauty was in every aspect of her. It was inescapable. She didn't notice my glances. I could tell she was still nervous, but determined not to back out now that her choice had been made. I resolved to find a way to break the tension, and an idea of how to do this came to me as I turned onto my street. I pulled up to the curb and looked up and down the street. Cars were passing by, but there wasn't much traffic. No one was on the sidewalk. There were lights in many of the apartment windows, but none of the curtains appeared to be open. Satisfied, I scooted over to her. She was looking at me curiously. "We'll go inside in a moment," I said softly. "I just wanted to ask one more time. This is what you want?" "Yes," she said, her voice only a whisper. "What about you?" I smiled. "I can't express how badly I want you. So forget words and let me show you." I put one hand on her cheek and went in for a kiss. The kiss started off slow and sweet and quickly became frantic. I was almost left behind in her eagerness. My hand slipped from her cheek and instinctively found her right breast. I gripped it through her blouse and bra, wishing there was nothing in the way. She arched her back, pressing the firm globe against my clutching hand. She moaned into my mouth, but didn't stop the kiss. Her tongue was in my mouth now, the feeling of it pressing against my own tongue was making my erect cock throb in my jeans. Stealing Bliss By this point, I'd forgotten where we were. My hand had dropped, with slight regret, from her perfect breast, and had joined my other hand in working the button and zipper on her jeans. Her hands were on either side of her body, not moving. Once I had open access, I thrust my left hand into her panties. It was an awkward and tight fit, between her panties, her tight jeans, and the positioning of her body, but I was determined to relieve some of her tension. Before long my hand had worked its way to the warm wetness between her legs. On first contact of my fingers, the kiss was broken with a sharp intake of air. This turned into a low, deep moan that was almost a purr. "So wet," I whispered in her ear, letting my fingers explore. "Mmm," she moaned, her head falling back against the headrest. Her legs spread, allowing me easier access. Her left hand gripped my wrist, as though trying to keep me from removing my hand. Her right clutched the door grip. My fingers ran along her pussy, slipping in the wetness. She was soaked-- before long most of my hand was coated. My index finger slipped inside her all at once. I hadn't been trying to do that-- it was a happy accident. Her moans intensified and her thighs started to clench, but she kept them apart, not wanting to get in the way of the sensations I was giving her. As my finger dove into her depths and my palm pressed up against her mound, my right hand snaked its way past her arm, under her blouse and then beneath her bra. The feel of her breast was amazing... at that point I was convinced she had the largest tits of anyone I'd had the pleasure to put my hands on. They were definitely more than a handful! Again, she arched into my hand. I kneaded her supple, firm flesh, but was unable to do much more due to the angle and the restriction of her bra. There was no way I was going to stop what I was doing long enough to unhook it, though. A more thorough exploration of her assets could wait until we were in a more comfortable setting. I drew my finger out of her and onto her clit, rolling it around, gently at first, then with more pressure. "Yessss," she hissed, her hand gripping my wrist tighter. I looked away from the sight of my hand moving under her white silk panties and drank in the sight of her. Her head was still back against the seat, but had lolled towards me. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her lower lip was caught in her teeth. She was breathing rapidly, moaning with every exhale. I couldn't imagine a sexier sight than her in this state. I worked my hand faster, alternating between penetration and playing with her clit. The entire time cars had been passing on our left, people on our right. I no longer cared who saw-- I was too caught up in pleasuring my new friend. Suddenly she cried out, her pleasure reaching its peak. Her nails dug into my arm. She threw her head forward, her hair flying, and her thighs clamped together tightly. As a result, my hand was pressed even more firmly against her cunt, which brought her directly to another orgasm. Her cry extended with her pleasure, her head stayed down, and her hips moved against my hand. She pressed her pussy onto my hand greedily, humping it until she came again. She seemed satisfied with this. Her hands flopped down to her sides, her thighs unclenched, and she fell back against the seat, panting. A couple tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't notice and I didn't mention them. Slowly I removed my hands from where they'd been. The strong, lovely scent of her juices wafted up to me, making my eyes close and an involuntary moan escape from me. This, too, was unnoticed. She was still recovering. While she was riding the aftershocks, I licked my hand, sampling her taste. It was incredible, and so sweet. I longed to taste it from the source, but knew that would be far too awkward in my small, cramped car. I wanted to get her inside to continue this, but I wasn't going to rush her. After a couple of minutes, her eyes fluttered open and she rolled her head to look at me. Her eyes, again, looked blue, but it was too dark to be sure. I really had to figure out what color they actually were. Her mouth was slightly open, her hair messy. When she spoke, her voice was thick with remembered pleasure. "That was-- I can't-- oh, shit." She frowned, then continued. "Sorry, I don't usually curse." "Quite alright," I said, amused. "I can't remember ever coming that hard. And in public! In all the times I imagined this, it was never like that. And I have a VERY active imagination." She breathed deeply, smiling. "My god, Jon. Thank you." I smiled back. "And thank you, Amy." "I didn't DO anything," she said, and it was almost a grumble. "Yeah you did. I guess you needed that, huh?" She giggled. I was glad to hear her giggle return. "I guess so?" "You ready to go in?" I asked, buttoning her jeans for her. "Yeah," she agreed. Once out of the car, she smoothed down her blouse and stretched. I took her hand and led her up the front stairs and into the building. I let us into my apartment and we were greeted by Janice, my babysitter. "Sorry I'm late," I said, pulling my wallet from my pocket. "I ran into a friend." Janice smiled, stealing a glance at Amy. "That's fine. I get overtime, right?" I chuckled, pulling out an extra ten. "You got it." I handed her the money, noting a strange look flit across her face. She smiled more broadly and looked back at Amy again, who was standing next to the entryway, looking nervous and awkward. I led Janice to the door, asking her if she would like me to walk her down to her car. "No. Thank you, though, Jon. You should get back to your . . . friend." She smirked at me and walked off. Suppressing the grin that was trying to break through, I closed and locked the door and turned back to Amy. "She kept looking at me," she said, confused. "She knew we'd been up to something," I replied, putting my hand between her shoulder blades and leading her to my couch. I had forgotten and pulled the money from my wallet and handed it to her with my left hand, which still smelled tantalizingly of sex. That explained the strange look. Amy's hair was tousled, her zipper still down. We hadn't been very discreet. Janice had, once only, come onto me, and I'd turned her down as gently as I could. She was a cute kid, but not my type. And fucking the babysitter? That, too, was bad form. There was no way for that to turn out right. Amy sat down, looking very small and lost. She was blushing madly. "Still nervous?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm usually outgoing. But I get quiet and jittery around people I don't know. I'm also feeling a little . . . embarrassed about what happened outside. I've never done something like this before. This isn't me." "It doesn't have to be you, hon. You're following your urges for a change. Nothing to be embarrassed about." She gave me a smile. It was tentative, but it was there. "How about a glass of wine? It'll help your nerves." "I would love a glass, thank you." I went to the kitchen to open and pour the wine. I brought the glasses back, handed one to her and sat down next to her. We drank in silence for a few moments. She was the one who broke the silence. "I hate the idea of one-night stands. But I'm not ready for a relationship. I . . . I don't know what this is." "Why does it have to be something?" "Because," she said, sadly, "if this isn't something else, then it's a one-night stand. I don't want to think of myself as a slut." "This doesn't make you a slut, Amy. I think you have to reach some sort of a quota in order to be called a slut." She giggled at this. "Tell you what . . . if you want to call this something, call it a sexy adventure." She looked at me weird, head cocked to one side. Then she gave me a dazzling smile. "I like that. Okay, that's what this is. A sexy adventure. I'm stealing some bliss for myself." "Exactly!" I agreed, giving her bare shoulder a squeeze. We finished our wine and she seemed much less tense. Laughter and wine . . . they can cut through anything, I swear. Again, she was the one to break the silence. "Maybe we should . . . go to your room?" she asked. I stood and took her hand, leading her into my bedroom. Once we were inside, I closed and locked the door. (With a kid in the house, you couldn't be careless.) She sat demurely down on the edge of the bed, knees together, hands in her lap. I turned on the small lamp on my desk, flipped off the overhead light, and crossed to where she was. I sat next to her and put my arm around her. It felt so nice to be this close to her. And the memory of the curb was making me hard again. "What would you like?" I asked her. Her big, lovely eyes looked up at me. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Whatever you want. Just make me feel good. Please." My response was a soft kiss. It escalated to passionate quickly, feeling like not so much a new kiss as an extension of the earlier one. I ran my fingers through her long, soft hair. The kiss was incredible, but I needed more. I broke away from her lips, kissing the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jawline, down to her long, graceful neck. My hands had dropped to her breasts, again kneading them through her blouse. She was emitting small moans and gasps that were driving me wild. Finally, the need to feel her skin on skin had become too much for me. I drew back and slowly started to lift her blouse. She made no moves to stop me, so I went ahead with it. She no longer looked nervous. She was half-lidded, biting her lip. If anything, she looked hungry. She slipped off her glasses, setting them on my nightstand. Then she raised her arms and shortly her blouse was on the floor beside my bed. I took in the sight of her again, giving myself a moment of anticipation. Just a moment, though. I reached around and unhooked her bra, pulling it off her. Her breasts were extraordinary. They were huge—bigger than they'd seemed through her clothes. Round, firm, and supple—clearly natural. I'd always been a boob guy, and in my opinion bigger didn't necessarily mean better . . . but in her case I was rethinking my stance on the subject. I was too aroused to form words, so I decided to compliment her sexiness in better ways. With no hesitation, I cupped a breast in each hand, marveling at the feeling of them. Her moans continued, and she'd let herself lean back, supporting herself on her hands. I caressed her mounds for a bit, not gently, but not rough. Somewhere in between. She was encouraging me with her sounds and the way she kept moving to meet my touches. Not even realizing I was doing it, I moved in with my mouth, kissing around her right nipple, darting my tongue across it and taking it into my mouth. "Oh!" she gasped, losing the ability to support herself and flopping back onto the bed. I followed her, devouring her tits with my mouth, licking, sucking, biting. They were deliciously sensitive, and I was thoroughly enjoying my effect on her. But still I wanted more. Slowly I moved downward, my lips touching the lower curve of her breasts, her ribcage, her soft belly, down until I reached the obstruction of her jeans. She hadn't noticed her zipper was still down, so it was quick work to unbutton her jeans. I pulled them down, and she helped by raising her bottom from the bed. With her jeans out of the way, I was free to continue my explorations. I kissed along the line of her silky panties, around to her hip, down to her thighs. I wanted to look at her, but I didn't want to pull back long enough to do so. This was right where I wanted to be. The warmth coming from her crotch was against my cheek as I nibbled her inner thigh. She spread her legs to give me access and I took a breath, drawing in the musk of her soaked panties. I'd gotten her flowing again, and knew this was just the beginning. I wanted to tease her, draw it out, but the need to taste her was overwhelming me. She was driving me crazy . . . making me forget my usual patient, reserved self. It was an intoxicating feeling, wanting someone so bad you couldn't even remember who you were. Not able to stand waiting any longer, I pulled back again and peeled off her panties, tossing them over my shoulder to land wherever they would. I was getting warm, so I pulled off my shirt. I took this moment to finally look at her and my lust spiked even more. Amy was, without question, the most gorgeous, sexiest woman I'd ever found myself in an intimate setting with. Her body had the right kinds of curves, as had been suggested while she was clothed. Her hips were round and smooth, her legs long and strong, her thighs thick and without flab. Her pussy was not hairless, but was trimmed with care. Her breasts lay proudly, begging to be handled more. Her long, pretty hair lay every which way, and a lock had fallen over one eye. She was looking up at me expectantly, searching my face for some indication of what I thought of the view. I gave her a smile and, my voice coming out husky, said, "Amy, you're a goddess." She blushed, but didn't look away. I wanted to say more, elaborate on the perfection I was looking at, but my urges were becoming stifling again. I dropped to my knees on the floor, my face settling comfortably between her legs. I tried to tease, kissing and licking around the area, but her enticing gasps and my own arousal made that impossible. I lay kisses along her slit, up and then back down. Once I reached the lower part, my tongue snaked out and ran back up the length. I tasted her juices, both dried and fresh. "Ohhhh," she breathed, shuddering. When I flitted the tip of my tongue across her clit she gasped again, her voice catching in her throat. I explored her, swiftly yet thoroughly, diving into her velvety depths with the length of my pointed tongue. Her passage gripped me, and impulsively I reached up with my hand and trailed my thumb through her wetness, using it to caress her clitoris. She cried out sharply, her fingers clutching my hair desperately, the sudden orgasm shocking her. My tongue was squeezed by her climax and the sweeter taste of come spread across it, pulling a groan from me. Once the squeezing released, I retrieved my tongue and got back to work, exploring her outsides with it. I noted, with pleasure, that her fingers had not yet released my hair, and took this to mean she wasn't done yet, either. She was really flowing now. The mix of her sweet fluids and my saliva was wetting my chin and cheeks. I reached around and wedged my hands underneath her, gripping her rounded cheeks with my hands. I lapped up her juices, each upward stroke ending at her hard little nub. Her moans became rhythmic as I led her towards her next release, matching my tongue's strokes with her moans, letting her set the pace. When her pace increased, so did mine, and right before the end, her fingers tightened their grip on my hair, becoming a lovely pain. I increased the pressure on her clit, slamming into it with just the tip of my tongue. She couldn't hold up under the onslaught, and her hips rose up to angle herself better against my mouth, her cries becoming wild. She thrust her cunt into my face as she came, and I latched on, sucking and licking without any perceptible rhythm. I just wanted to enjoy the feel and taste of her. As soon as I set to her with abandon, she was struck by another orgasm, her hips continuing to rock into me faster. She was fucking my face, and it was unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt my cock hardening more, still encased in my pants, and was shocked to find that I was actually about to come myself, without even a touch. I glanced up and could see her breasts quivering, pressed together by her arms. Her belly was rising and falling and the bedsprings squeaked from her tremors. I closed my eyes and continued feeding on her, feeling yet another explosion building up—this one in both of us. All at once it happened . . . she released my hair, threw her arms back, almost screaming out her pleasure. My hands squeezed her ass convulsively and I cried out too, feeling my cock spurting on its own. I shook powerfully, clinging to her as I rode the waves of my own unexpected climax. When it was over, I disentangled myself from her and fell back onto my ass on the floor, still shuddering with the diminishing waves. I stood and saw that she was still lying back on the bed. She was covering her reddened face with one arm, panting, mouth open. I pulled off my jeans and shorts, using my shirt to swab the globs of cum from myself. I was still fully hard and intended to make use of that fact before I started to lose it. I crawled atop her, moving her arm away to look at her face. She looked stunned, but happy. "You didn't-- " she started. "I did. That was unbelievable, Amy." I said, with awe. "But I want to fuck you now. Can I?" "Mmm, yes," she murmured, scooting back a bit. In the last few minutes, she'd ended up almost on the floor with me. With my hand I guided my still-hard cock into her soaking cunt, going slowly, feeling it becoming enveloped by her heat. As I sank into her, inch by inch, she made soft "Ah" noises, which drew out to an exhalation of pleasure once I was fully nestled within, our crotches pressed together tightly. The feeling of being inside her was the most delicious yet—my cock as deeply inside as it could be, my body pressed against hers, our pleasures truly mingling now. I began moving, trying my hardest to start out slow, but once she wrapped her arms and legs around me and moaned into my ear, I once again lost the battle with my willpower. After maybe a dozen slow thrusts I found myself gripping her hips and fucking her relentlessly, driving her swiftly over the edge of pleasure once, then a second time. This went on for a while—between the recentness of my last ejaculation and my overall stamina, my own finish was still a ways off. Or at least it was, until she started fucking me back. Her body rose up to meet my every thrust, her cunt gripping me firmly. I thrust into her even harder, wanting now to come, not wanting to hold off any longer. "Yes! Yessss!" she cried, over and over, the contractions of her cunt making it hard to keep thrusting. Her tits rocked and swayed with our movements, and the springs on my bed were crying out along with her. My orgasm was coming up fast, and I realized I'd forgotten to grab a condom. I pulled out and spurted, my come shooting all the way to her breasts. Either from that sensation or the sudden departure of my cock, she was coming again, grabbing her tits and pinching her nipples, her body lurching on the bed. When it passed, she reached up and grabbed my arms, pulling me back down on top of her. She kissed me and for a time I lost my sense of my surroundings again. This woman really had a way of making me lose myself! When the kiss ended, I raised myself off her, noticing that in the intensity of our fucking, we'd travelled across the bed and were almost off the other side. I smiled down at her. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, breathing one word: "Wow." I chuckled, nodding. "Agreed." We rearranged ourselves to lay long-ways on the bed and she nestled against me, her hand and cheek on my chest. I held her tightly against me, enjoying the aftermath of what was surely the most vigorous and unbridled sex I'd ever had. We didn't say anything. We didn't have to. After a few minutes I realized she was running her fingers through my chest hair, feeling my muscles and the contours of my body. Slowly, lazily, her hand travelled down my belly and eventually settled on my flaccid cock. I realized that this was the first time she'd touched me there. It was a powerfully erotic feeling, being explored blindly with her hand. Her fingers ran along the length, down to my balls, cupping them, squeezing them. Then back up, taking her time as she noticed there was now further to go to reach the head. Slowly, but with increasing speed and deliberateness, she drew me back to my full length. I've never been a huge guy—just around six inches completely erect, but there was a slight curve to my shaft that lent me thickness. Regardless of my size and shape, her hand was showing her appreciation, and it wasn't long before I was moaning, running my own hand down her back. I moved just enough to caress her ass with my fingertips, then ran my nails back up to the middle of her back. Stealing Bliss Still stroking me, she looked up at me and I once again became lost in her incredible eyes. I could see them clearly in the light emitting from my lamp, and they were gray. She smiled, her full lips curling. Without a word, she climbed atop me, reached down, and tucked my rigid cock just inside her lips. With a breathless moan, she worked me back inside her, all the way in. Clenching my teeth and giving my own moan as a response, I gazed up at her. She was looking down at me, hair flopping, the hungry look back on her face. She'd taken control completely, and I was fine with lying back and enjoying what she had to offer. She started moving above me, her breasts hanging down alluringly. I couldn't resist the chance to feel them again, so I reached up and cupped them, kneading them with my hands. She increased her rhythm, rubbing herself against me and pulling back up, going faster and faster, her moaning reaching a fevered peak. She arched her back and came, rocking her hips and rubbing her clit against me. She continued this, no longer moving my cock in and out, just moving me inside her and chasing her next climax. Once it had come and gone, my hands dropped to her waist and I gripped her, joining her movements with my own. We had reached the frantic stage again, and I was amazed to realize I was about to come again. I'd always prided myself on my lasting ability, but somehow Amy was able to break through that. Not that it mattered—our bodies fit together so well, our passions matched so exactly, that none of her orgasms had to be coaxed out or worked for. The feeling of her body rocking on me, coupled with her cries of pleasure brought me to the edge. I lifted her off me just enough for my cock to spill out of her and land against my stomach. She dropped back onto me, clenching her thighs and wrapping her lower lips around my shaft. My cock flexed mightily and I shot onto my belly and chest. She was still rubbing herself against me and came for the last time of the night shortly after. Once satisfied, she lay down on me, and we stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, we got up, cleaned ourselves up in my adjoining bathroom, and got dressed. "You could stay," I offered as we dressed. "I'd like it if you did." She smiled, but shook her head, pulling her phone from her back pocket. "No. I should get back home and let my sister know she can go to sleep. I'm sure she's sitting up waiting for me. Besides, I don't want to make plans. This should just be what it is." She looked something up on her phone and called for a cab. Before it arrived, we walked out to my car so I could get her gym bag out of my trunk. Then we stood on the curb, enjoying the cool evening. We'd steal glances at each other now and then, but still nothing needed to be said. The satisfied smiles on both our faces said it all. When the cab arrived, she slipped into the back seat and motioned me down for a brief goodbye kiss. "You know," I said, "we'll probably see each other around, right?" She looked up at me, her smile as achingly sweet as always. "Oh, I know. But that'll be another day. Tonight is just tonight." She closed the door and blew me a kiss, and with that, she was gone. I went back inside and to my bedroom. The first thing I noticed were her wadded up panties lying on the floor. Forgotten . . . or on purpose? I couldn't say. I smiled and stripped, lying on my bed. I lay there for a while, smelling the sex in the air and enjoying the memories we'd made that night. As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself planning the next "accidental" meeting. I had a feeling she was doing the same, and it was a nice feeling.