Seduce Her

The first thing I noticed about her was the pair of rose gold peep toe heels on her feet. It's not that I'm big into feet or footwear in general, just that the shoes drew a lot of attention. They were incongruous with the rest of her outfit in a way I found strangely compelling. Come to think of it, her entire look was incongruous with the quiet, shaded sidewalk that ran between my apartment building and the one next door. The most common genre of person to be found on that sidewalk was someone walking their dog in sweats and a t-shirt--their most distinctive feature tending toward whether they were compulsively hitting a vape, or talking to an unseen AirPod.

She was dressed as if she had just returned from a day at the Renaissance Fair. Except those heels. She had a flowing emerald skirt that extended all the way to her ankles, and a cream-colored bodice with brown embroidery which succeeded in flattering her petite, feminine figure. Her chestnut hair was very long, spilling over her back in lustrous waves.

And she was walking toward me slowly, those rose gold heels sparkling in the sun as they clacked faintly on the sidewalk that led to the door of my apartment.

For my part, I had just stepped out of my front door and closed it behind me when I looked up and saw her. My camera was slung over my shoulder, and I was much closer in appearance to the stereotypical dog-walking-neighbor than to the mesmerizing drip of the young beauty that drew closer with each faint clack.

I knew I was staring. I'd just lost control of my voyeuristic nature. It took what restraint I did have to refrain from popping off my lens cap and snapping a photo of her. That would have been a bridge too far. I figured she would turn down one of the walkways and disappear into an apartment.

She did not.

She passed the last pair of walkways before my own. I could finally make out her face properly in the same moment I realized the only place she could be going was to me. Her eyes were brown, the same shade as her hair. She had high, prominent cheekbones and pink blush on her cheeks. Her lips were thin, and her mouth was wide as it pulled into a nervous smirk.

My sense of unreality only deepened when I realized she had been looking directly at me for the duration of her walk to my front door.

I had the sensation of being held under a spell by her gleaming brown eyes. Her footfalls seemed to synchronize with the beat of my heart, pounding in my ears. She stopped an arm's length away. Her smirk broadened as she held out a bright white envelope.

My eyes narrowed in confusion as I looked down at it. My arm drifted up to take it, seeming to act of its own volition. In the moment my fingers closed around it, I noticed her fingernails were painted the same shade as her skirts. My heart seemed deafening in my ears when I realized that my name was written on the front. It was unsealed, and the handwriting was unmistakable.

I watched my fingers open it and pull out a single sheet of white paper. I unfolded it and found two words in emerald ink, scrawled across the center of the page.

Seduce Her

I blinked rapidly, my eyes darting between the two words and the alluring woman standing in front of me.

It was my wife's handwriting.

She was watching me quietly, seemingly amused by my befuddlement.

If seduction was my mandate, I was off to a uniquely bad start. Actually, seduced was the perfect word for how I felt. Only I was not supposed to be the one feeling it. I took a deep breath and exhaled as much of the befuddlement as I could gather in my diaphragm.

I could feel the self-satisfied grin of my wife, as if she could see my reaction. She found the most captivating and uniquely stylish young woman in our neighborhood, knew exactly how it would make me feel to send this beauty walking up to me out of the blue, and had her hand me a note openly inviting me to take her to bed. She was seducing me by telling me to seduce the nubile renaissance princess next door.

I folded the paper and stuffed it into my pocket, then turned my full attention to her. My mind came back empty when I attempted to summon something to say, but I felt an intense pressure to say... anything. I opened my mouth and let my subconscious take a shot at the conundrum.

"I like your shoes."

Her grin broadened and filled her eyes. She seemed to be suppressing a laugh.

"Thanks," she lifted one foot and turned it in slightly, looking down at the ostentatious heels, "I didn't really have anything to go with this dress, but I tried these on and just felt like they worked, somehow."

"You make them work," I said, my subconscious not missing a beat after she finished speaking.

She replaced her foot on the ground and righted her posture. Her head remained tilted down, but I could still see the shyness on her face.

"Thanks."

I took another calming breath, relieved to have overcome some of my starting deficit.

"I'm Hank," I extended my right hand toward her, causing my camera to swing forward and forcing my arm to contort oddly to keep it from sliding into her.

"Evelyn," she shook my hand. Her grip was as soft as her skin.

It seemed to take some effort for her to make eye contact as we shook hands, and I saw her gaze fall down to rest on my camera immediately after our eyes met.

"I was just leaving to go on a walk. I enjoy the challenge of finding an interesting composition in everyday surroundings."

"Oh," she said, her eyes daring up to mine with a flicker of interest, "that looks pretty serious." Her eyes return to the camera, her curiosity becoming more and more apparent.

"Yeah," I reached down and grasped the camera by the barrel of the lens and offered it to her, "it also doubles as weight training."

She looked up at me with confusion as she reached out to take it, but the confusion melted into surprise as she felt the weight.

"Wow," she looked at it with childlike wonder, "I never realized they were so heavy."

"Yeah, had a similar reaction," I grinned at her, "but a lot of it is the lens. Pretty much that whole cylinder is solid glass." I grazed my finger along the length of the shaft.

"Wow," she repeated, her gaze flitting between me and the camera, "I guess I've never actually held a real camera like this before. I just always used my phone."

I found her interest both endearing and extremely attractive. She had begun to run her fingers along some of the buttons, dials, and control rings, and I understood the tactile joy she was experiencing. Like a child that had snuck into the driver's seat of her parent's car, exploring all the knobs and buttons and levers with innocent wonder.

"Would you like me to show you how it works?" I offered, looking at her with affection, like the same parent might watch their daughter play with the steering wheel.

She looked up at me, surprised. I could see the intensity of her interest clashing with the self-consciousness that comes with an uncomfortable gap in knowledge.

"I would like that very much," she said, grinning, "if that's okay, I mean. It feels... expensive."

I chuckled, "Of course. Definitely better if we don't drop it. Let me set it up for you, and then I'll show you how to take a photo."

She gave me a nervous nod, reluctantly withdrawing her hands. I popped off the lens cap and stuffed it into my pocket. I flicked on the power switch with a satisfying click, and raised the viewfinder to my eye, pointing it at the tree, and adjusting the exposure.

"About 90% of operating a camera comes down to learning how the exposure triangle works," I explain as I make the final adjustments, "but that's a much longer conversation, so I'm dialing that in for you this time."

I lowered the camera and stepped around to her side, my arm grazing against hers.

"Hold it like this," I demonstrated, cradling the lens with my left hand and wrapping my right hand around the body. I held it in front of me for a moment to let her see my grip, and then offered her the camera.

She took it and replicated my grip carefully. I grinned and nodded in encouragement. I stepped behind her, reached around her body, taking care not to touch her, and lifted the strap over her head. She lifted her right arm and shrugged into the strap.

"Now you don't have to worry about dropping it," I said from behind her. I slowly smoothed the strap across her shoulder and back, untwisting it in a few places.

"Oh..." she relaxed her hands and felt the weight of the camera dig into her shoulder.

"Okay, there's about 50 buttons and dials on that thing, but you only need to worry about one of them," I reached around and guided the index finger of her right hand, "this is the shutter. It's a two stage button. If you push it lightly like this," I pushed her finger gently into the button, "it triggers the autofocus. And if you push it harder like this," I push her finger harder into the button, causing the shutter to click several times, "it'll take a photo."

"Okay," she pushed the shutter several times and giggled at the sound and vibration, "I think I got it."

"You got it," I smiled, removing my hand from hers and reaching around her with my other hand. "This is the viewfinder," I tapped my finger, "you look through there to see what you have in frame."

She lifted the camera to her face and looked through the viewfinder.

"Oh wow. It's like... an airplane or something," she said, amazed.

"Yeah, it takes a while to learn what all the numbers and readouts mean. But just look at the image for now. That's what you're taking a picture of if you press the shutter with your right hand. Go ahead and try it."

She snapped a few photos, making adorable noises to herself and she looked around through the viewfinder.

"I set the exposure to that tree to our left. So frame the tree however it looks right to you and take a picture."

She turned to the tree and walked closer to it tentatively. She took several slow steps toward it and then took a picture. She lowered the camera and turned back to me, a huge smile on her face.

"Can I see what I took?" She asked hopefully.

I reached around the camera to push the review button. The image she took of the tree appeared on the screen. She looked at it for a few moments and then turned the screen toward me. I studied the photo and nodded approvingly.

"You've got a good eye for composition. You used the trunk to frame the landscape in the background."

She looked at me, blushing. She seemed momentarily lost for words, so I went in for the knockout.

"I think I know what would make this composition even better, though."

She blinked a few times in surprise. "Oh? What's that?"

"You."

She blinked again in confusion for a beat and then blushed even deeper. She nodded for a moment before she managed to speak.

"I'd like that," she lifted the camera over her head and offered it to me.

I slung the camera over my shoulder and let it rest against my hip. I slid my arm around her waist and placed my hand on the small of her back, leading her to the tree.

"Okay," I smiled at her and stepped back, "let's try you leaning against the tree, and lean forward a bit. Cross your right arm under your chest and rest your chin on your left hand."

She nodded at me, her face nervous as she followed my instructions.

"Ok, perfect, stay right there," I encouraged her, walking around to her side and kneeling down on the grass as I lifted the camera. I made a series of quick adjustments and checked the corners of my frame.

"You look lovely. Now, just think about that moment you took the photo of the tree."

She blushed and her nervousness melted into a wistful smile. I held down the shutter and took a half dozen shots of her as the smile spread across her face.

I stood up and pulled up the photos on the review screen and walked over to her, nodding in approval. She walked toward me and I turned the screen toward her as we met.

"Wow," she smiled shyly, "I look..."

She trailed off for a moment, so I finished the sentence for her, "absolutely gorgeous."

Her blush deepened, now spreading over her neck and down to her clavicle. Her eyes fell from mine to my lips and lingered for several heartbeats.

I let the camera fall to my side, wrapped an arm around her waist, and slowly pulled her against me. She felt warm and delicate in my arms, and I felt myself hardening against her even as I craned my neck down to kiss her. I could feel her breath quickening as she looked up at me, her eyes wide and her cheeks deep red. I pressed my lips into hers very gently, and I felt all the tension go out of her.

She deepened the kiss, the vibrations of a very soft moan reverberating through her lips. I pulled her into me and deepened it in return.

She moaned again, loud enough to hear this time. She broke the kiss, panting softly, and lowered her head so that my lips came to rest on her nose. Her eyes were closed and she had the look of a person savoring a bite of a beautiful meal.

"Do you want to come inside with me?"

She nodded slightly, the bridge of her nose digging into my lips. I slowly, reluctantly removed my hand from her waist. She resisted the pull of gravity, leaning into me for a few breaths longer. I turned toward my front door and offered her my arm. She grinned and coiled her arm around my bicep, leaning subtly against me as we began to walk.

As I led her to the door, a different sort of smile crept onto my face as I thought of my wife. Never had she done something quite so mysterious as this, but she had a way of making me feel like a marionette at the end of her strings. I it found both arousing and endearing.

Evelyn and I were inside my apartment, and I was closing the door behind us when my attention was pulled back into the present. I turned to find her taking in her surroundings and found myself wondering how exactly my wife had put her up to giving me that note.

The domestic flourishes of another woman were apparent, regardless of which direction she looked.

I walked over to her and studied her face carefully. A note of reluctance had replaced the amorous blush between the tree outside and my entryway.

I drew her attention by gesturing toward the couch. I smiled and said, "Can I get you something to drink?"

She looked at the couch, back at me, smiled shyly and nodded, "Yes, please." She turned and perched herself on the couch in the living room. As soon as she sat down, she began fiddling with the straps of her heels.

"I have wine, or I could make you an Old Fashioned? Or water, of course, if you're into that sort of thing?" I offered. I followed her a few paces into the living room.

"Oh, uhm..." her shyness only deepened, as if she weren't accustomed to being offered an adult beverage. "I've never had an Old Fashioned?"

It was a strange thing to make into a question.

"Well, I'm a fan. Do you like whiskey? It's my favorite whiskey cocktail."

She looked at me, a note of embarrassment in her eyes. "I haven't had much whiskey."

"Oh, okay..." I gave her a reassuring smile, "How about this--I'll make myself an Old Fashioned, and I'll get you something a little more familiar. If you'd like, you can try mine, and if you love it, I can make you your own."

She nodded, the shyness giving way to relief. "That sounds perfect. I'll just take some water then."

"Perfect," I pulled the camera over my head and placed the heavy contraption gently in her lap.

"You can't mess anything up I can't fix. Just don't drop it."

I saw her nod eagerly as I turned toward the kitchen to make the drinks.

I returned a few minutes later to find her pushing buttons and spinning dials with great interest. She seemed to have worked out that she could alter the brightness of the screen by adjusting the shutter speed dial. When she saw me returning, she quickly put it down in her lap like a child caught with an expensive tool.

I set her glass of water down on the coffee table in front of her and offered her the Old Fashioned, her eyes widening in renewed wonder at the crystal glass. The amber liquid seemed to shine in the light, and the maroon cherry danced slowly, suspended in its golden bath.

She took the glass and I took the camera, sitting down in the armchair diagonal to her. I lifted the camera to my eye and began to adjust the exposure, framing her face and the glass closely.

"Oh," her shy smile returned when she saw me pointing the camera at her, "what are you doing?

"Documenting your first sip of Old Fashioned."

The shyness melted into a new blush. She didn't say anything, just looked directly at me and brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip.

I waited a beat for the liquor to burn her throat and snapped a few frames of her reaction.

"Oh, wow, that's intense," she blinked a few times, looking at the glass. Then she took a bigger sip, smiling at the warming sensation in her throat.

"I think she likes it," I smirked at her, setting the camera down on the coffee table.

"I do," she admitted. Then she seemed to realize she was drinking my drink and held it out to me, "I'm sorry, I forgot this was yours."

I waved her away, "It's yours. Please, enjoy it."

She brought the glass back to her lips and took another sip, this time looking me in the eye as she did.

"Are you going to make another one?" She asked.

"Maybe. But you're far too adorable to walk away from right now."

The deep blush returned, buoyed by the warmth of the alcohol.

I watched her intently as she enjoyed the drink. "It occurs to me I should probably ask how old you are," I said.

"Oh," she looked a little embarrassed, "I'm 24, but most people seem to think I'm still in college."

I let out a brief sigh of relief and said, "Well, you are a very young-looking 24. I'm 36 and my wife is 39, to save you the embarrassment of having to ask." I said.

It seemed like the right moment to rip off the elephant-shaped bandaid.

"So look, I don't know exactly what my wife did to set our meeting into motion, but I'm sure you knew I was married. Do you know what the note you gave me said?"

She blinked a few times and shifted her posture at the sudden change of subject. She shook her head. "She said I could read it if I wanted to, but she also said it would be more fun if I didn't."

"Sounds like her," I grinned, realizing the puppet strings dangled over both of us. "Do you want to know what it says?"

She nodded nervously, curiosity blooming in her eyes.

I dug out the paper from my pocket and offered it to her. Her eyes widened and her blush deepened when she scanned across the two words in the center of the page.

"Yep. That's Ellen for you. Now you know why I was staring at you like an idiot when you handed it to me."

"You were staring at me like an idiot long before I handed you the envelope," she teased.

"You're right," I admitted, "I was captivated from the moment I saw you. But the letter didn't help."

She took another sip of my drink. A pregnant silence settled between us.

"You strike me as the kind of person that's more comfortable with non-verbal communication, but I think this is a conversation we need to have. I showed you the letter because I sensed your hesitation when you walked in and saw our house. If there's anything you'd like to clear up about me, my wife, or the situation, please ask."

She set the glass down on the coffee table and fiddled nervously with her fingers, considering my offer for a moment. It seemed to me that she was caught between interest and a nervous uncertainty.

"I guess I'm just wondering what happens after... you know," she said, blushing again, "I don't really understand the dynamic between you and your wife. But I... I think I might actually really like you. And I think I would be sad if we didn't see each other again."

"Oh, Evelyn," I leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee, "you are unbearably sweet. I really like you, too."

Her eyes lit up like fireworks in the night sky.

"My wife is a complicated woman. Half the time I feel like I'm catching up to understanding the dynamic between her and I. I think that's part of why I love her so much. But one thing we are not is ridged or closed. What happens after today depends on how all three of us feel, and we will have to navigate that together. But I do not think she would have sent you to me with a letter like that if she did not see something in you as well. She's never done that before."

"For my part, I hope very much that this is not a one-afternoon-stand. But all I can tell you for certain up front is that neither my wife nor I are monogamous. As long as monogamy is not something you're expecting from me, I believe that's enough for the three of us to sort out a way to fit into each other's lives for as long as that's something that we want to do."

She nodded. She seemed to be in the process of holding back tears and not in any hurry to say anything. I looked at her with growing concern.

"Are we holding back sad tears or happy tears?" I asked, playful but tentative.

"Happy," she said, her voice forced. A tear finally fell down her cheek and she brushed it away immediately with the back of her hand.

"You don't need to hold them in on my account," I said, looking at her with deep affection.

She let out the sort of loud sob that only comes when you've been holding it in by force. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she did not try to remove them.

I stood up and walked over to her, sitting down next to her on the couch. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her head into my chest. I let her cry into my chest, holding her tight.

I ran my fingers through her long chestnut hair as she cried quietly. Occasionally, my fingers snagged on a bobby pin, and I gently removed it. The lion's share of her voluminous, long hair was held behind her head with a vintage hair pin stabbed between the ends of a large, crescent-shaped, wooden barrette. I slowly removed the pin and let her hair fall free over her back.

She'd stopped crying by the time I finished de-accessorizing her hair, but she remained comfortably cuddled into my chest. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't move or say anything for a long time. I felt her take a deep breath.

"I'm just not used to men being so honest and... open. And there was something about the way your wife looked at me and talked to me. She made me feel something I don't usually feel for other girls. Walking up to a strange man and giving him a letter is a crazy thing to do, but she made me want to do it. Like she knew me better than I did, even though I'd just met her."

I smiled to myself, still running my fingers through her hair. "She can have that effect on people. Myself included."

Blissful seemed to be the correct way to describe her in that moment. I was reluctant to disturb her reverie, but I could not deny the amorous pull I felt toward her. I felt an erection growing at the quiet intimacy that had settled between us. My eyes came to rest on the string that held her bodice tight against her. It was tied in a bow between her shoulder blades. I grasped one of the loose ends and slowly pulled until the knot popped free. Slack rapidly cascaded through the ridged garment. I felt her relax several degrees as it did. She took a few deep breaths, savoring the relief.

I pulled additional slack through each pair of crisscrossed strings until there was a visible gap between the bodice and her body. She made a sound somewhere between a groan and a moan, and reluctantly pulled herself up to a sitting position. She grasped the bodice with both hands and worked to pull it over her head. I helped her remove it, and she tossed it onto the armchair with a relieved sigh.

She looked into my eyes for the first time since she began to cry. The tears hadn't done her makeup any favors, but she was, to me, compellingly beautiful.

I stood up, held out my hand, and said, "Come to bed with me."

She took my hand, stood up, leaned into me, pressed her cheek against mine, and whispered, "I thought you'd never ask."

I trailed my fingers down her back and did not stop until they were splayed across her small, perky ass. I squeezed her firmly and whispered, "I was waiting for you to stop crying."

She giggled and pressed herself harder into me, squirming away from my groping fingers.

I pulled my head back and looked at her affectionately. "A little ticklish?"

She grinned bashfully. "Nope. Not even a little."

"Oh, yeah," I rolled my eyes, pulling her toward my bedroom, "not even a little bit."

I twirled her around me, backing her up to the bed. I leaned into her and kissed her. As soon as she began to press herself into the kiss, I dug all of my fingertips into her ribcage at once.

She collapsed onto the bed, giggling and squirming and thrashing her head back and forth. She kicked me away from her with an involuntarily spasm of her leg and I nearly collapsed onto the floor laughing.

She recovered herself before I did. She looked up at me, affecting an exaggerated pout. "You're a big meany."

I sighed out my last peal of laughter and grinned down at her. I lifted my arms in mock-surrender and said, "How can I make it up to you?"

She smirked, put her forefinger over her lips, and said, "Kiss me."

I planted my raised hands on the bed on either side of her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her lips deeply.

She moaned and opened her mouth. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and ran it across her teeth. She pressed her tongue against mine. I swirled my tongue around hers.

I pushed my hands under her back and pulled her up to a standing position without breaking the kiss. I fiddled with the back of her dress, searching for a zipper or clasp or buttons. When I found nothing, I began to gather up the fabric, my wrists resting on her hips. When the whole of her skirts were gathered in my hands, I broke the kiss and pulled the long garment slowly over her torso. She lifted her arms and watched my eyes intently. I tossed it onto the foot of the bed and stepped back to take her in.

She stood before me naked except for a pair of simple black panties.

"Oh. My god," I said, my eyes pouring over her as if she were a Van Gough. Every part of her was lithe. I'd have been tempted to use the word delicate, except that her porcelain skin was stretched over a feminine but well-defined musculature. Her modest breasts hung from her chest like dew drops on a quiet, foggy morning.

Blush spread over her neck and chest as I admired her body, but so did a huge, playful grin. When she could stand it no longer, she laid hold of my shirt and began to unbutton it. Even where her fingers fumbled they felt graceful against the fabric. I leaned down and kissed her cheek as she began to undress me, sliding my fingers down her back. She remained focused on disrobing me, despite my affection. She pulled my shirt open with a satisfied smile. She trailed her fingers across my chest, smiling as her fingers weaved through my chest hair and then over the curve of my belly. I shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside.

Her fingers did not stop their journey down, and only came to rest on the button of my pants, which she popped open decisively. Before I knew it, she had my zipper down and was pulling my pants off. I stepped out of the pants as she cupped a hand under my balls, extracting a loud groan from my lips. She squeezed my balls gently, looked up at me, and I kissed her as her fingers began exploring the shaft of my cock.

She kissed me back, but did not pause her exploration of my manhood. When her fingers reached the head, they progressed to the waistband of my boxers, and she pulled them off, breaking the kiss to remove my underwear and admire my erect cock.

She looked at it with delight in her eyes. When her fingers returned to the shaft, her touch had an air of reverence.

The next thing I knew, she was lowering herself to her knees in front of me. I took a step back to give her room to assume a kneeling position. Her fingers returned to my shaft as soon as she had settled on the floor. Her eyes--her entire attention--were focused on the cock hanging an inch from her face.

She kissed the tip very gently and a bead of precum met her lips. She licked off the clear fluid and the vibration of her pleased groan caused me to shiver. Her eyes darted up to mine, full of self-satisfied mischief as she took the head into her mouth. I groaned with need and she took me deeper into her. Her tongue lapped slowly across the underside the shaft.

"Oh, fuck..." I groaned loudly when her fingers squeezed my balls firmly. My knees wobbled and I fell forward, bracing myself on the bed.

This had the unintended effect of pressing her head against the bed, and my cock deep against the back of her throat.

She gagged but made no move to escape. In fact, her arms both dropped to rest on her thighs. I slowly withdrew my cock from the back of her mouth. She kept her head pressed against the sideboard. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was wide, and her body language was perfect surrender.

I began to fuck her mouth very gently. She moaned each time the tip of my cock pressed into the back of her throat. I pressed a little harder with each slow thrust until I found the pressure necessary to illicit her gag reflex. Her jaw widened as she gagged, saliva spilling from her lower lip and down over her chest. She maintained her posture of unflinching surrender.

I reached down with one hand and placed it on the side of her head, my thumb stroking her hair affectionately.

"You're incredible, Evelyn," I said, my words laced with the rapturous abandon of pleasurable intimacy.

A pleased grunt was the only acknowledgment I received. I found myself overcome with a desire to reciprocate her selflessness.

I removed my cock from her mouth and she groaned in adorable disappointment. I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"Stand up for me, honey," I leaned down and slid my hands under her arms to help lift her to her feet, "I want to make you feel as good as you've made me feel."

Her body protested at being lifted from her kneeling position, but she obeyed my gentle command. When she was standing, she looked into my eyes with a disoriented glaze.

I kissed her cheek gently and said, "Lay down on the bed, honey."

She climbed onto the bed languidly, pulling herself to the center of the bed and resting her back against my wife's prodigious collection of throw pillows. I climbed up behind her, taking up position at her feet.

She spread her legs instinctively, but pressed them together again when my fingers laid hold of her panties and began to pull them off of her. An excited smirk had replaced the disorientation on her face. She watched me intently as my eyes fell onto her bare pussy for the first time.

She was perfectly smooth, freshly shaved if not waxed. Her arousal had caused her bright pink labia to spill out from her slit as if her most sensitive flesh were silently begging for my touch. Her engorged clitoral hood pulled my lips to her like gravity yanking a too-slow satellite out of decaying orbit. I was barely aware of my movement as I leaned into her crotch, drawn as I was to her as a bear to the source of her honey.

Her reaction was deeply satisfying when I grazed the tip of my tongue across the length of her hood. Her back arched into the bed, her head forcing its way amongst the sea of pillows behind her. My tongue darted down to her entrance to taste her, and I moaned into her at the complex, feminine musk that coated my tongue. I slid my newly-coated tongue across the mess of her labia until it reunited with quivering stub of her clit.

Her needy, incoherent moans began to cross into an adorable sort of pathetic, so I had mercy on her and pressed my tongue firmly into her clit for the first time.

She cried out, relief mixing with a need she could not contain. I pressed my tongue gently inside her hood and licked the tip of her clit directly. Her hips slammed into my face with all of her not-inconsiderable strength. I sucked her clit into my mouth and flicked the tip with my tongue rapidly. She bucked into me rhythmically and I flexed my chin against her in time with her hips.

She was whimpering for release with complete disregard for dignity. I rewarded her abandon by sinking my lower teeth very carefully against the base of her hood. She screamed and her entire body shuddered. The flexing of her hips became erratic. I felt a thinner, more voluminous fluid spill out of her, onto my chin, and into my mouth. I kept my teeth carefully pressed against her until her movement became so violent I could not maintain my position against her wild, writhing hips. I let her grind herself as she pleased against my face until she finally recovered some measure of her conscious mind.

"Oh my god..." she was almost crying with the intensity of it when her breathing slowed enough for speech. I heard an odd, soft sound behind me somewhere in the room. I dismissed it as my foot knocking something off the bed, buried as I was between her muscular thighs.

I hauled myself over her, pushing my head amongst the pillow forrest in which she hid. I kissed her deeply with my sloppy, wet mouth. She groaned and licked herself from my lips, her arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling on me with no intent beyond deepening our closeness.

I reached down and guided my cock inside her, the wet mess of her cunt swallowing the length my cock greedily in a single, haphazard thrust.

She made a loud, indescribable noise into my lips. The need for closeness exhibited by her wandering arms spread to every muscle in her body. She wrapped her legs around my hips and pulled me deeper. She arched her back into me, pressing her erect nipples into my chest, and she shoved her tongue into my mouth.

I began to fuck her, gently at first, though that did not last long. My presence of mind faded quickly into the pleasurable assault of her soaking wet pussy swallowing my length with ferocious need. She drew me with her into animal abandon, and we were soon fucking each other without a single conscious thought in our heads.

Her legs flexed in time with my thrusts, pulling me as deep inside her as I could reach. I lost the strength to hold myself up to her lips and my head collapsed into her shoulder. I drooled onto her skin as I began to lose control.

The build toward my orgasm felt like it lasted forever. My muscles shook in protest, and I forced them into her with dogged persistence. As my strength failed, she took over, flexing my body into a facsimile of thrusting even as my trembling became too intense to overcome. I growled into her shoulder as it began, fireworks of pleasure bursting across the whole of me. I came into her, my body a writhing mess as she held me tight with all four limbs. My movement finally stilled with an exhausted sigh into the pool of my drool that had accumulated over the soft skin of her shoulder.

I didn't move or speak for a long time. Neither did she. She held me tight. I found that one of her hands had found its way to cradling the back of my neck. The first few times I tried to move, she resisted my attempts, her arms holding me against her with a strength I had neither the vigor nor will to resist.

After what felt like an hour of silent, exhausted, intimate closeness, she let her feet fall to the bed from where they had been perched on my hips. The grip of her arms loosened but did not fully relent. I took a few deep breaths, gathering my strength before planting my weight on my hands and finally lifting myself over her.

She looked up at me with dreamy affection and I planted a soft kiss on her nose.

With a soft groan of effort, I rolled off of her and onto my back. When I sat up, my heart stopped dead from surprise as the familiar voice of my wife instantaneously shifted the energy of the room.

"Hey baby," she said, smiling at me with immense affection and amusement.

I blinked stupidly in shock for a moment. Something on her face prompted a question that slid from the back of my mind and straight out of my mouth.

"Hey baby. How long have you been standing there?"

"A while," her smile broadened.

"Oh my god..." Evelyn's meek voice peeped out from amongst the sea of pillows which hid her face. It wasn't necessary to see her cheeks to know they had turned the deep red of an overripe cherry.

I couldn't help but chuckle at us, my own cheeks reddening as my wife's silent gaze slowly re-contextualized the preceding moments of abandon. I looked at my wife, whose expression had shifted to triumphant.

"I'm glad to see you enjoyed the show so much, baby," I affected a teasing tone, "but I think our little Evelyn here might die of embarrassment if you don't find a way to soothe her soon."

Evelyn made a small, adorable chirp and pulled the pillows tight over her face.

"I suppose you're right, my love," she said. Her triumph relented into nurturing concern as she walked over to the far side of the bed where Evelyn was hiding her face.

"Hey," Ellen said comfortingly, placing her hand gently over where the younger woman was clutching the pillow against her face. We both watched Evelyn relax by degrees until she allowed the pillow to be pulled from her face.

Ellen looked down into Evelyn's eyes, her eyes filled with a vaguely maternal affection.

"It's okay, honey. The two of you did exactly what I hoped you would. I couldn't be happier to find you naked in my bed."

The joy in my wife's face could not be mistaken. Evelyn's overwhelming embarrassment slowly faded and she just stared back into Ellen's eyes, profoundly lost for words.

Ellen leaned down and planted a soft, sapphic kiss on her lips.

The first of many.