At the Theater

 I've had a crush on her since before COVID, when I met her at a theater retreat.

Tall, thin, pale, shocking red hair, the prettiest blue eyes, lips made for kissing, and legs made for marathons and wrapping around a lover.

She was perfect.

She was also married, or so I thought.

Not married, but together forever with her loser boyfriend, a wanna-be actor with no talent, an ugly face, and breath that could peel paint.  I have NO idea why they are together.

Flash forward several years, to last Friday

Closing night for a revival of "The Dresser" in a small theater near home.  I know she's coming, I know several friends are coming, so we meet in the lobby, long hugs are shared, compliments offered. After closing, everyone scatters to do summer stock and vacation gigs.

She's in a short blue tennis skirt.  I wait until he's gone (the jealous prick but a total cuck) and compliment her directly, bluntly, and in detail..

She blushes a bit, giggles, and says thank you.  

Last minute purchases mean we are not sitting together, but I find a row with 5 seats together, so I grab her by the hand, lift her out of her seat, and pull her along with me.

Me, Her, Him, a sweet little flirty actress friend, a stranger on the aisle. We get seated. I sent him a text. He read it and slumped in his seat.

Before the lights go out, I text her, feeling gutsy before the summer break

"Have you ever had two men touch you at one time?"

 As she was putting her phone in her jacket pocket, she felt it vibrate, she paused, saw it from me, and gave me a quizzical look.

"Read it."

She did, and her head snapped up and she stared at me as the lights when down. Silence.

The announcement warned about phones and photos, and the curtain opened.

Like a teenager, I spread my legs until my knee touched hers. At first, she flinched away, but then, her knee rested on mine, our fingers touching.

Her BF, the sniveling cuck that he was, followed instructions to the letter. As the first monologue started, I placed my hand on her knee and pulled her leg to me.  By her gasp, he did the same.

My fingers massaged her skin, just above her knee, not too high, but a new touch from me. He did the same.  Doing almost nothing, just holding her open, spread, the short skirt riding up in her faded red velvet seat.

 Every 2-3 minutes, painfully slow to my hardening cock, our hands moved higher, then stopped.

I leaned over to her, as the stage lights lit a new scene, I saw his hand under her skirt, as mine was.

"Touch yourself." I whispered.

She tried to close her legs, but both of us held firm. I took her hand in mine, kissed her fingertips, and repeated myself, "Touch."

Her left arm draped over her BF's arm, her right arm, dropped into her lap and made its way under her skirt.

She was tentative at first, but as the laugher on stage got louder, she got bolder.  I felt her wrist begin to move in little circles, then bigger, then up and down.

I looked over at her and gripped her high inner thigh gently, but firmly, she knew my fingers were an inch from her clit, my hand a breath away from her pussy, yet I held firm. 

Here we were, a suitor, a woman, her boyfriend, pulling her open, spreading her sweet strong legs, sharing the moment, but not touching. We simply held her, spread her, gave her access to her own sweet body, two hands, two men, one woman, and, as the audience cheered before intermission, one massive orgasm.

I let my hand drift out from under the short blue skirt, and I clapped for the wonderful performers.

She grabbed my hand and wiped her fingertips across my palm.  It was sticky, wet, fragrant and flavorful.

I stood and exited, turning her direction, facing her, putting my pulsing hard cock inches from her mouth. I passed him and then extended my hand to allow our friend to leave first, she declined, but as passed in front of her, she touched me.

Her hand gently brushed against my cock through my jeans. I flinched. She smiled.

As we left our seats my redhead was holding on to her boyfriend, catching her breath, perhaps crying a little.

My attention was pulled away to my new friend.

"I saw what you two were doing, now it's my turn."

Theater Meeting (Part 1)

One show finished to great success, if you can count "selling out" a success when you only set-up 24 chairs per show.  But that's OK, it was a small cast, small show, and the actors were all very talented.  The goal was putting on the production, learning the ropes, testing out a new theater, not making money.

Making money in small local theater is never, can't ever be the main goal, because you never make money.

Ever.

My goal, was to flex my set design muscles, get a credit on my resume, and be around her.

Always around her.  That's always the goal.

Sure, at the end she'll give me a $50 gift card and a long hug, but that's just a bonus.

She texted and asked when I wanted to start planning our next show, her next show really.  She was the producer, backer, director, and lead actress. 

"When do you want to meet?" she texted?

"Thursday at lunch," I replied, "or Friday after work. Will Dave be coming?"

Dave was her long-time boyfriend, 10 years her senior, a replacement father figure for a lonely woman who lost her dad to a drunk driver at 11 years old.  Her mom was great, but never fully recovered.  Dave was a nice guy, too old for her, another theater groupie who knew what to say when she was lonely.

"Dave's in Colorado with his brother on their annual fishing trip."

I laughed as I thought about my response.  Dave had never fished a day in his life.  He went to Colorado, smoked pot, talked shit, and went to strip clubs and blew what little money he had for "fishing." I think she knew he didn't fish much, he never brought back pictures from the boat, just the dock at the lack, that looked staged AF.

"I can't do Friday," I wrote, "Thursday works for me.  Carol's downtown all this week, so we can work on the patio while I grill your asparagus"  

As a vegan, she brought her own food everywhere and I learned not to put my chicken on her side of the grill.

She didn't write back for a bit, her job at the amusement park kept her busy.

At midnight, her text came through.  "Thursday is fine."

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday dragged on.  I could have met all week, but I knew that she got lonely without David, and it paid off.

I dropped her a note Wednesday after dinner, "Still on for tomorrow?"

"Yes" she replied, "What should I wear?"

"Of your own free will?" I asked. Consent was her kink.

"Of my own free will."

"Sun dress, no bra, thin white panties, the blue sandals I like."  I hit SEND.

"As you wish." she said, quoting her favorite movie.

"No" I wrote back, "Answer correctly."

I could see the dots blink, stop, then blink again, until her message lit up my phone.

"As I wish."

"12:30," I wrote back, "Don't knock, go through the gate, sit at the patio table."

I turned off my phone, went into the bedroom, and made love to my wife.  She appreciated my extra passion.

"That was nice," she said, "now I have something to think about at work tomorrow."

I slid out of her, warmed up a washcloth, and cleaned her up.  Kissing softly, we said our goodnights and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

I woke up, kissed my wife goodbye, logged in to work, pretended to be productive, and logged off at noon.  25 minutes later, the patio was clean, the table washed, the clean water of the fountain bubbled quietly next to the fence. I stepped into the house, poured some ice water, and waited.

Precisely at 12:30, I heard her car pull up, the gate opened, closed, and she came into view through the sliding patio doors. She laid out her production notebook, laid out some fabric swatches, her design sketches, and waited patiently.  She was as talented as she was beautiful, and always came prepared.

I adjusted myself, not hiding, but minimizing the growing shaft in my shorts, and opened the door.  

She stood up, opened her arms, and I gave her a long hug.  Ten seconds into our embrace, she adjusted her arms and pulled me closer, pressing her chest to mine, and I did the same.  No longer a hub, but a true embrace, I held her close, buried my head in her beautiful red hair, and kissed her skin.

We stepped back, held hands, and smiled at each other.

"I like your outfit." I said.

"That makes me happy." she replied, "shall we?"  She sat down and bent toward the table and her notebooks, knowing full well that I would look down the neckline of her dress, confirming her obedience to my request.

Her small breasts, bare, tight, were mostly nipple, an A-cup on a good day, she was the sexy girl you tried to keep up with during a 10K race.  You couldn't ever keep up, but the view from behind was just as good until she pulled away and decimated the men and the women in her age group.

I sat next to her and we got to work.

Her designs were beautiful, but impractical to build on her budget, so was always met in the middle.  Fewer trap doors, more moving walls, a window that would drop in from the ceiling instead of stage left, a movable gauze curtain that defined the rift between the husband and wife in the story.  she found wonderful, personal, very human scripts.  She had no interest in lasers or car crashes or murder.  She preferred the quiet killing of broken hearts and frozen relationships.  

When she put down her pen and closed her notebook, I knew she was done with work.

"A drink," she said, "Please."

I stepped into the kitchen, poured a tall glass of water. When I returned, a pair of thin cotton panties were laid out perfectly smooth on the table, the bright white sparkled against the dark wood grain of the table.

I looked down at her and she avoided my gaze.

"Look at me." I whispered.

She looked up, her green eyes had the shine of tears unshed.

I wiped away the tears with the pad of my thumbs.

"Stand." I said.

She obeyed.

I took the panties from the table, kneeled before her, and slipped them up over her strong thin legs.  She lifted her skirt and I saw her freshly waxed labia for a moment until she moved her thighs wider, allowing her panties back into place.

I smoothed out the waistband, pulled gently on the fabric, and settle the thong deep between her cheeks, and let her skirt fall back into place.

"Look at me." I said again.

At 5'8" our eyes met, our bodies aligned, and I could feel her breathing on my chest.

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"Because you have tears in your eyes." I whispered in her ear, inhaling her scent.

"That's not your fault," she said, lifting her face to match mine, "I want this."

"Go inside, wash up, take a drink, pause for a moment, then return with dry eyes and a clear head."

She lifted herself on to her toes and kissed me.  I returned the kiss and released her.

She walked past me, dragging her hand across the front of my shorts, and stepped into the house.  

I put her notebooks, sketches, pens, and swatches into her bag, ensured the side gate was closed, and sat in my chair and waited.

End Part One

 

Your delivery is on the way! The delivery driver is scheduled to arrive by 9:32 am and will leave your delivery at the door. Please keep your lights on, any driveway or porch areas clear and pets safely secured. Thanks for helping us keep everyone safe! I'm sitting at my desk, naked, doing email and occasionally cleaning part of the house. It is 9:30, my delivery arrives in 2 minutes. Do I get dressed? What if it's the cute Japanese girl from last week? What if it's Phillip, the wannabe comedian who tips the scale at 300+? What if it's Franki, the hot goth girl who was very nice next week? What should I do?

Today's 500 (really 2423)

You have to give me permission

To do what?

What ever it is you are about to ask me to do.

I don’t know what you are talking about.

Yes you do.  You are about to ask for a favor, I can feel it.

Why would I do that?

Because you husband is out of town and
you are wearing your yellow dress.

What does that have to do with anything?

You never wear panties under that dress.

How do you know that?

Because he told me.

He What?

He told me.  He tells me a lot of things.  He likes to brag.

About what?

About how hot you are, how good you are in bed

What else?

He tells me how much he misses you when you are gone.

Does he, you know…. While I’m gone?

Cheat on you?  No.

That’s not what I meant.

Be specific.

Does he, you know (imitates masturbation motions)

No, strangely enough, he doesn’t. That’s why
he’s always at the gym when you call him.

Maybe that’s why he’s losing weight. (Laughter)

Do you?

What?  I’m not going to tell.

Yes you are.  Do you masturbate while you are on the road?

Does my answer matter?

It does to me.

Why?

Because I like thinking about you doing it.

Doing what? (sarcastically)  Be Specific.

I like thinking about you masturbating, naked, spread, wet,
on a hotel bed, cumming, cumming again, and then,
spreading the slippery wet on your nipples as you play with them.

Oh. My

What’s wrong?  Didn’t you like my answer?

Why are you suddenly standing so close to me?

I didn’t move, you did.

No I didn’t, that would be inappropriate.

(Laughing) That is exactly what you are.

I don’t want to be.  I want to be a good girl.

Will you be “my” good girl?

I hate that phrase.

Why?

Because I’m not a girl.

What are you?

A woman.

What kind of woman?

A lonely woman.

Lonely?  I thought you two were pretty “active.”

Not enough

Be specific

You like that phrase, don’t you?

Yes. I like it when people use words.

What kind of words?

Accurate words. Honest words.

What do you want me to say?

You can say anything you want. I don’t direct anything.

Seriously?  That’s not what I’ve heard.

Heard? From who?

People

Which people.

Will you get mad at her?

No

Promise?

Promise. I put no restrictions on anyone. Including you. 
Feel free to share what you want with whomever you want.

Even him?

Him who?

Even my husband?

Is this something you want to share with him?

Kind of.

Does he know you are here?

No.

Why did you hide it from him? 
He’s my best friend.

That’s just it, isn’t it?  You are best friends,
you work together, what if this goes badly?

Will it?

Will you fuck off with all the questions? 
You really aren’t that deep, you know.

I don’t need to be deep, just honest,
open, and with full consent.

She told that consent is like a kink for you.

It is, in a way.  I like to hear my partners ask for things,
specific things.
I don’t want any misunderstandings,
accusations,
or bad feelings.

What if I feel bad afterward?

That is up to you, but it will never be because
I pressured you into anything.

Like what?

Ah, see, very tricky.  I’m not in the lead here. 
I am in charge, but not in the lead, do you understand?

I think so.

Nothing will happen that I don’t want to have happen,
but nothing will happen unless you ask for it. 
And see, now? You’ve taken another step closer. 
Shall I set your drink down?

Yes, thank you, it was delicious.  What was in it?

No alcohol, if you are asking. 
No intoxicant, no drugs,
just clear-headed
decision making.

I don’t think I’m thinking very clearly right now.

Then should we stop? Watch TV?
Discuss the Old Testament?

(Laughter)

No, but maybe some music.

Something slow?

Slow and sad or slow and sexy.

They are frequently both. True. How about this?

I like it, thanks.

You’ll have to take off your heels,
you are beautiful, but too tall for me.

You like it when I wear them.

How do you know?

You smile at me in church.

I smile at many people at church,
I’m happy to be there.

Especially since you have seen so many of us naked.

Horrible scandalous rumors. I say.
Sometimes I close my eyes.

Dance with me.

You smell wonderful, and yes,
I love you in your heels, but you fit so nicely
into my arms without them.

Hold me closer.

Tiny Dancer?

Yes, hold me tight. It feels nice

Yes, it does, doesn’t it?

Let’s just enjoy the music for a bit, eh?

That would be lovely….

 

Oh, I love this song.

So does my wife, they played it her sister’s wedding.

Can we not talk about her tonight?

My wife’s little sister?

(Laughter) No, your wife

Why not?

Am I betraying her?

No.

Does she know I’m here?

She knows I’m with a friend.  She never asks for names.

Does she mind?

No, we discussed it early on, her idea really,
caught me quite by surprise.

Do you two…?

Do we what?  You know the rules?

Do you and your wife have sex anymore?

On special occasions.

Like what?

The return of Halley’s Comet, the orbit of Pluto, those special days.

I’m sorry

Do not be. I have friends.

Like me?

Yes Dear, like you.

Spin me.

Like this?

(Laughter)

Well, I proved my assumption

Which one.

That you don’t wear panties under this dress.

No, I never do

Why not?

Because I don’t have to.

(Kiss)

That was lovely

(Kiss with a hint of tongue, teasingly bringing our mouths together)

Touch me

Where?

Do I have to tell you everything?

For now, yes.  Keeps us both safe.

Touch my ass.

You’ve been going to the gym?

Squeeze harder.

Wonderful

Both hands

Even better.

Spread me.

Ohhhh, I like that.

Me too….

 

Kiss me

(kiss)

Kiss me like you kiss Haley

(deeper kissing)

Do you fuck her?

Who?

Haley.

Does that matter/

Yes.

Why?

I want to know what she likes

Why?

You know.

Tell me

Because I want to fuck her too.

Really?  I assumed you already had.

Why?

Because of how she looks at you.

I know, it’s quite a rush.

Have you kissed her?

Not like this

(Hard, passionate kissing)

I don’t want tonight to be about her. 
Tonight is about you, us, right now, right here.

(I bite her neck)

Yesssss.

Whispering - What do you want?

Put your hands under my dress

Your skin is flawless

Spread me

Wider

Harder

Yessss, you are catching on.

Touch me

Catching herself

Touch me deep.

Like this?

Fuck yes… he never touches me there.

He never touches this tight

Gasp

Little

Gasp

Hole?

No, never, push hard, I want to feel it.

Inside?

Yes

Yes, please

How far?

                                                                     All the way

Like this?

              Yes, yes, yes, please. That feels so good.

Do you play with your ass when you are alone?

                                                             Yes, all the time.

Does he know?

                                                          He thinks it’s dirty

I do not.

                                            Kiss me while it’s inside?

(Her mouth opens and is ravenous. I press deeper inside her, feeling the tightness and warmth. She quivers and bites my tongue.)

                                                                            Oh fuck.

Do you like my finger in your ass?

                                                                  YES!  Deeper!

As you wish…

Knuckles deep, she begins to buckle and gasp for air.

Are you cumming?

                                                                        Yes!  May I

Then cum

Her body falls into my arms, and I hold her, still penetrating, thrusting, filling her up in a way her husband never would. 
Tragic really,
She’s perfect.

Oh, fuck fuck, that feels so good.

I’m glad you liked it.

Now, catch your breath, and follow me.

                                                                             Where?

Just Follow

On the far side of the room is a small bathroom with the appropriate supplies

                                                        What’s all this for?

Cleanliness is next to godliness and prevents all sorts of problems.

                                May I wash your hands for you?

Yes, that would be nice.

The warm water runs over our hands as she pumps soap into our palms and rubs them together.

    Will you remember this when we are done,

Or do you force yourself to forget

I dry my hands and cup her face.

I remember everything.

                                                                  I need to pee.

OK

                                           Can I have some privacy?

No.

                                             What do you mean, ‘No.’

Just that, no.  Here, I’ll lift the lid for you.

                   And you are just going to stand there?

No, I’m going to watch.

                                                                                  Why?

Because I like it.

She sits and lifts the yellow dress up over her hips.
I kneel in front of her.

Really?

Yes, Really. Breathe deeply, relax.

                                                                         I’m trying.

With gentle pressure, I spread her legs.

Interesting

                                                                                What?

I always imagined you waxed.

                                           He likes the landing strip.

Hmm

And what do you mean,
“I always imagined you waxed”?
Do you think about me?

Constantly

           Do you masturbate when you think of me?

Constantly

                                 What’s your favorite scenario?

You call me and ask if you can use my back yard
to “work on your tan, because you know I work
from home and my wife is in the office.

The flow starts, warm and yellow, I spread her knees further.

I promise you privacy but come to the kitchen sink
for a drink and you are laying out in your green bikini,
my favorite, you notice me, and ask for a drink.

Her flow continues and I see her breathing quicken.

I give you a drink, but it spills

Her flow stops.

I take 4 squares of toilet paper and pat her lips dry.

OH!

Thank you?

Good hygiene is essential

                                                    Then what happens?

That can wait.

I offer my hand, and she takes it and stands.

That was interesting

Good

                                             But I’m still a little damp

And?

                                                                           Wipe me

I reach for the toilet paper

She blocks my hand

With your fingers

Please say it

                                  Wipe my lips clean, touch me.

Yes.

Aahhh, you are so wet, so perfectly wet

                                                                             Taste it.

So sweet

                                                                                  Again

Not here

                                                                          Why not?

The couch is better

                                                             I said touch me.

She holds my wrist and guides me between her thighs.

Wipe it all up.

Front to back, back to front, I’m so wet.

You are amazing

                                                                  Penetrate me

Ask again

                                         Put your fingers inside me.

Again

                                                                           Fuck me!

My fingers slip inside without any resistance, her smooth walls envelope my fingers and I feel her clench around

Feed them to me.

I put my fingers in her mouth, and she tastes herself for the first time

Is this how Haley tastes?

This is how you taste, and it’s perfectly you.

She pulls away, smiling, placing her hands on my shoulders to create distance.

                                                                         Stay here.

Why?

                                                                           Because

Why?

                                                                          Trust me.

She leaves the bathroom

My cock strains against my slacks and I see a growing wet spot.

COME OUT!

She is standing in the middle of the room, naked, hands on hips.

Her breasts are more spectacular than imagined

Her landing strip groomed to perfection

A long thin glistening bead runs down her inner thigh.

Well?

I step toward her and kneed in front of her,
desperate to taste her fully.

No, stay up.

OK

She undresses me quickly but with practices hands

I want you to see me in the light,
undressed, naked, all yours, not hiding,
no excuses, no justifications,
just two beautiful people naked and together.

You are beautiful

                                                                      Look at me.

I am

                                                    Tell me what you see

I see my friend, naked, beautiful, wet.

                                                More

I see beautiful nipples that have fed two wonderful children. A hint of stretch marks as evidence of your motherhood, your fertility, your breeding. I see an ass that has inspired a thousand fantasies and even more orgasms. I see a friend who is about to suck my cock, a body I’m about to fuck, a woman who’s about to orgasm.

 More

What do I see? What do I see? I see youth, energy, arousal. I see a wonderful mother, a shrewd businesswoman, a good boss, a wonderful friend. I see need and longing and love and unmet passion and I see love, friendship, desire, and bravery for being here with me.

She pulls our naked bodies together.

What do you feel?

I feel my chest,
your hair,
your breasts on my skin,
your nipples hard,
I feel my blood pulsing.

I feel the tip of your cock on my stomach,
dripping, aching, slippery  May I taste it?

Please use the words.

                                                 May I taste your cock?

Yes, please

                                            Don’t beg.I want this too.

With a smooth motion, she kneels and takes me into her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the swollen head, teasing, tasting, sucking.

I want you to cum

We’ve just started!

                                              CUM, now, in my mouth

Her mouth engulfs me

I see her hand pinching hard at her nipples, then harder, tugging, pulling

Then it drifts between her legs and strums her clit in hard need.

                                                            (Muffled) – CUM!

I don’t hold back.

FUCK!

I feel my sac constrict and the inevitable rush of pleasure begins

I’m going to cum

She looks up at me, making eye contact, and nods her head.

I reach down and feel her breasts in my hands, holding, caressing, squeezing.

She buries my cock deep in her throat, then gasps, coming up for air.

CUM!

Her mouth goes back on me, her tongue swirling the tip.

I thrust deeper but she holds me at bay and I understand.

I cum.

Buckets, shot after shot, my head swirls,
I can barely keep my feet,
her hands has an iron grip on my sac
and she keeps me from pulling out
until I am
spent,
drained,
happy,
exhausted.

I stagger backward and fall on to the couch. 
She crawls over on her hands and knees,
licking her lips, tasting all of my cum,
until she swallows, smiles,
and opens her mouth for me to see.

We kiss.

                        THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you.

That was perfect.

It was amazing.

She kisses me again and climbs up on the couch.

Her bare skin is radiant, sweaty, glistening.

She leans back on the arm of the couch, letting me, begging me to look at her.

That was perfect…..

She leans back and spreads her legs wide, her lips open, and she smiles again.

Perfect for round one.

 

Outside Narration - I like truthful answers

This was dictated on my phone, transcribed by poorly programmed voice recognition software, then very lightly edited, just enough, I hope, to get across the story. And yes, I finished when the story did.  (some additional editing on 2/20/26).

Phone rings.

We need to talk about the tickets.

What are you doing right now?

Uh do you want the truthful answer or the politically correct answer.

Give me the truthful answer.

Well I'm laying on a blanket in my backyard naked thinking about masturbating.

Holy shit don't say that,.

Well you said you wanted the honest answer.

Ohh not that honest.

OK, so you want the politically correct answer?

Yeah, let's back up and try this again. Hi what are you doing?  We need to talk about the tickets.

Well, you can come over. I am currently in the backyard thinking about some of my friends and hoping that they are satisfied with their daily life.

Now, that is a bullshit answer.

Well it’s the the politically correct version and that means it's usually bullshit.

That's not what I meant.

What you meant was that you really wanted to know what I was doing but you didn’t want to admit that you wanted to know exactly, what I was doing.

Don't put it that way.

Admit it, you're still curious you had your chance and now you think you blew it.

.

Well, did I?

I'm not sure yet, all I know, is that right now I’m alone in the backyard, no one can see me, no one knows how I'm doing. I have a tube of lube and a vibrator next to me.

That's what I mean! You can't say that stuff anymore.

Why not? You used to like hearing it all the time.

I know, but I thought we were being good.

OH, fuck being good. That didn't get me anywhere now did it?

That's not my fault. I just I just couldn't go through with it.

That's fine, just don't tell me you didn't want to.

That's not fair, you know I wanted to, you know I really wanted to do it, but.

But what? Tony banging your best friend when we were on the phone so I don't think it mattered too much. She's not my best friend anymore.

Good, neither is he. Just tell me the last time you thought about me.

Please don't make me tell you that.

Why not? That recently?

You know what it does to me when we start talking, you know how I get wet.

I know.

Stop it.

I think you're getting wet right now.

Stop it or i'll hang up.

Ohh you could have hung up minutes ago when I called you, you like texting because it doesn't go anywhere but once you hear my voice you know I'm gonna ask you questions.

Then stop asking me questions.

I like hearing you answer them.

Come on, that’s just not fair. You know what you do to me.

I know what I want to do to you.

See it’s stuff like that. We’re not supposed to talk about that stuff with each other.

Why not?

Well, I'm your boss.

You're not my boss.

I paid for your last project.

Correction, you reimbursed me for my last project, all my labor was free along with my expertise a couple of gallons of paint and several dozen brushes if I remember.

OK fine, that might be true, but what about next day? What about when we see each other next?

What's the problem?

You'll know things about me.

Like what?

Ohh come off it. You know. You ask questions and I tell you answers and you know I can't lie to you.

There's no value in lying in this situation I'm not building a fantasy; I’m building a record.

That's what I mean. You ask me these questions, and I have to tell you the truth otherwise it doesn't work, does it?

You're right, it only works when you answer truthfully. I can tell a fantasy answer when i hear it, just like a fake orgasm or porn. It's beautiful, but it's a lie so it doesn't mean as much. Why do you think you like telling me the truth?

I don't know, maybe because no one else asks me those kinds of questions.

Well? Should we start with some answers right now?

What?

You know what my first three questions are. They are always the same and I expect you to answer them 100% honestly.

Seriously? I have to go to rehearsal in like 2 hours.

That’s not the point.

Yeah, it is, because when you get to rehearsal I want you to know that tingling you feel is because of me.

It's always because of you.

Then let's get started, give me the basic 3 now.

Fuck you.

Not yet, answers please.

OK, let me think.

You shouldn't have to think that hard, but you know the rule, no looking.

It's just that sometimes they're just not that exciting.

If they're on you, then they're absolutely thrilling.

OK, pale blue, high cut, probably Fruit of the Loom and a little bit worn out.

Good girl.

You can’t call me that for just answering the simplest of questions.

I can because that's what you are.

What do you mean?

You are my good girl. You answer my questions, you tell me the truth, you let me inside and that makes all the difference.

Inside? What do you mean? We've never, you know, never done, you know, that.

That's the least important place I need to be right now.

What do you mean?

You'll let me in there when you're ready to let me in there. Where I wanna be is inside, deep inside your head. I want to be inside your panties when I'm 100 miles away. I want to be in the shower with you while I'm sitting next to my family at dinner, and I want to be in your bed when you bring somebody home from the theater.

Fuck you.

That's why you're my good girl.

Thank you Sir. Do you have another question for me?

Yes. When was your last orgasm?

What it's none of your business.

Tell me tell me now.

OK, today's Friday, so it was Tuesday. I just got back from a run. I was so tired.

How far did you go?

6 miles. I did the big loop around the train station, it's flat and it's fast.

Kind of like you.

Cut that out.

You know I think you're beautiful I'm just teasing you.

You know I wish my boobs were bigger,.

No you don't. They're perfect just the way they are, just the way you are.

What do you mean by that?

They are small, sensitive, and they fit inside my mouth, and I can suck on them so hard.

May I touch them Sir? Please?

Be specific.

May I touch my breasts Sir?

Yes, you may, but only over your shirt.

What?

Just for now. Imagine we're in the movie theater. I can't get you naked yet, but I can touch you, feel your nipples getting hard.

Ohh Sir, they are so hard right now.

Pinch one, the left and then the right.

Please Sir.

I time my touch with the action on the screen so you can yell out as the cars explode and the men fight for some stupid reason. We picked this one because the reviewers said it was unnecessarily loud for an hour and a half and that's what I want you to be, loud.

May I?

May I what?

May I take my shirt off please?

Yes you may tell me how it feels.

It’s light blue T-shirt that's one of my oldest. It's and it's soft and I like how it feels against my skin.

You may take it off if you tell me what happened next after your run.

Yes Sir. I had the house to myself, so I stripped down as soon as I walked inside the front door. My shoes first then my socks. My T-shirt came off and then my running bra. I'm still not sure why I wear one, but I like it.

Chafing is a bitch.

Come on Sir, you know I don't like that word.

I'm sorry my sweet, Chafing is unpleasant.

I took off my shirt and my bra I saw myself in the hallway mirror.

Go on.

The one my grandma likes so much that she bought it at the flea market last year after grandpa died.

Yes, I know that mirror. What did you see?

I saw my red hair, the small curves of my breasts. I saw sweat running down between and I watched myself touch my nipples.

And? And what? Tell me.

It made me wet, so I reached down and I pulled my pants down and my panties along with it until I was bare. I stepped out of my running tights I stood naked in front of the mirror.

Yes continue.

Sir? May I?

What?

May I touch myself?

Be specific.

May I put my hands down my pants and touch my clit?

Yes, you may, but you cannot stop talking.

Thank you Sir. It feels good.

What feels good?

I like touching myself when I talk to you.

Tell me more. What did you see in the mirror?

Well I had just shaved that morning I was still a little red but my skin was bare I could see my lips, so I used my fingers and I spread myself open and then put one finger deep inside myself and that's all it took to cum. Sir, just thinking of you and one finger was all it took.

You came from me in the hallway?

Yes, just you, a long run, and one finger, Sir.

Good girl, very good girl.

Red 2

 She's coming over today, in 25 minutes.  I took three pills, just in case, the max daily dose.

Maybe nothing will happen, maybe something will, who knows?

Am I ready to take that chance again?  A chance to get caught, to fall in love with the wrong person, to blow up a sub-par but stable marriage.  Probably not. but what if?  Right?  Isn't that always the question?

What if she comes over alone, maybe she told Ryan to stay home, that she doesn't need any help painting. Maybe, Chris shows up late, and maybe, just maybe, she's wearing her baggy linen shorts and my favorite tank top.  She's barely an A-cup, slim, tall, wildly perfect red hair, a tight little ass built on miles of running, and a smile that makes me lose a breath.

She gets here, 9:30, on the dot.  We have a lot of painting to do, but she asks for a tour of the house first.  My house isn't that big, there's only a little to tour, but I'm glad that I cleaned the bathroom before she came over.

In the master bedroom she kneels on the bed, resting against the headboard, looking out the back window. 

 Is she sticking her ass out on purpose?  She did, in fact, wear her paint-flecked linen shorts.  I stand next to her, next to the window; my heart is pounding, is this it?  

I put my hand on the bare skin between her tight tank-top and the waistband of her shorts.  She doesn’t move away.

“When we moved in over Christmas, 1998, the whole back yard was a jungle,” I said, my hand drawing circles on her bare skin, “the house had been empty for almost a year.”

She closed her eyes as I touched her gently, “That’s the year after we moved here,” she said sleepily, “I was 6.”

“Seriously?” I said, hoping the laughter in my voice was genuine, “are you trying to make me feel old?” 

I playfully swatted her on the back of her head, but then let my hand rest on the back of her neck, playing with her hair for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” she said, contrite, “It’s just, that was a big year for our family. I didn’t mean to make you feel old.”

“It’s OK, I am old.  Older” I said, trying to emphasize the -er.

My hand leaves her hair and slides down along her back, but I don’t stop this time.  Crossing over the waistband of her shorts, I lose contact, until I find her soft skin again.

My fingertips find the back of her left thigh and I drift my fingers up and down her pale skin. She sighs, just a bit, and puts her head down on her folded arms.  Her body shifts in unmistakable need.

"Please" she whispers.

"Please what?" I reply softly, trying to calm my voice over the beating of my heart.

"Touch me."

My hand is shaking.  Up and down the soft skin.  Down to the back of her knee, up to the edge of her shorts. Any higher and it’s not flirting any more. Any higher and everything changes, it’s not teasing, it’s seduction, it’s sex. It’s real.

She sighs quietly as my fingertips move across her skin.  Can she feel my heart pounding?  Can she see how nervous I am?

My thumb crosses the line first, up under the fabric, She takes in a sharp breath.  I stop.

“It’s OK”, she whispers.

I can feel the soft linen lift as my thumb pushes higher, exposing the back of her upper thigh, my fingers feeling the curve of her ass from on tops of the fabric.

“MMMMmmmmm” she encourages me, but I can barely breath.

My hand curves around her bottom, my fingertips dangerously close to the center line, I can feel her body in my hand, and she pushes back, every so slightly against my palm, and I squeeze. She giggles.

My hand moves higher, pulling the fabric of her shorts deep between her cheeks.  Her skin is exposed, but I want to see more.  I slide my hand back down her thighs, letting her shorts fall back into place.

She whimpers, but only for a moment, as I use both hands now to pull upward on her shorts, pulling the fabric deep between her cheeks, exposing her pale white skin. She giggles again until I pull harder, tightening the fabric against her crotch, a linen wedgie, lifting her hips, bringing her knees off my wife’s favorite comforter before releasing and letting her drop again.

Her laughter is intoxicating and encouraging. I pull upward again, bouncing her once on my bed, she grabs the headboard for balance.  But the next time is not for giggles, I pull the fabric tight, lift, and suspend her in the air, her body pressing hard against the fabric between her legs.

She is suspended, just off the bed, she could easily extend her legs and take the weight in her feet, but she does not.  She hangs in my hand, the fabric pressing deep into her middle, the fabric compressing her lips, her clit, and she slowly spread her legs for me, allowing the fabric to do its job.

I slowly let her down.  She is out of breath.  I stroke her hair and the back of her neck.

“Good Girl,” I whisper.  “Did you like that?”

She nods her head up in down in affirmation. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” she takes a breath, “I liked it.”

“Head down,” I say and she complies, resting her forehead on her arms again.

I reach over her back with my right hand and, using both hands at the same time, pull her baggy linen shorts off her hips and to the bed, where they pool around her knees.

She quivers as I trail my finger up the back of her right thigh, across her hips, and back down again.

Her panties are buried between her soft pink lips.  Her pale skin frames them perfectly and I whisper that she is beautiful. 

“Thank you, Sir.” She responds.

I correct her.

“I’m am not Sir,” my hand caresses the bare curves of her ass as I inch closer and closer to the center. “Today I am Peter, Your friend.” Titles will come later, I tell myself.  She is ready.

My fingertips reach between her thighs and trace her exposed labia from front to back.

She gasps.

I have touched her. There is no going back.

I do it again, gently reaching between her thighs, I seek, not for her clit, but for the wet fabric of her panties and the soft folds of flesh that covers the silk.  This time I use three fingers, stroking her lips, tracing the damp silk, touching her with purpose and permission.

She gasps a bit and giggles, and begins to rise up, but I gently press her back down until she rests her head again.

“I like this part,” I confess, “touching, teasing, exploring.”  My right hand reaches between her exposed thighs and I spread my fingers, instructing her to spread her legs for me.

“I love feeling you get wet.  I love feeling you quiver.”  I say this very matter of factly.  I’m no longer nervous, I am calm and confident and know that I am doing exactly what she wants done.

“I’m going to pull your panties down.” I put my left hand between her shoulder blade and hold her in position.  My right hand goes under the waistband and pulls away from her skin, avoiding any touch as the panties pull out from between her swollen lips. I push the fabric to the bed.

“Lift” I say, and she lifts her right knee.  I pull her panties and shorts down her leg.

I reach between and tap her left knee.

“Lift”

She repeats the motion and her panties and shorts lay in a pile at the end of my bed.

I resist the urge to bring them to my face, my nose, my tongue.

“I’m going to touch you now.” She nods her head.

This time I don’t ask for a verbal, that will be a part of her later training.  Today is about touching, cumming, and bonding, and it is all going according to plan.

My left-hand slides from between her should blades and to her chest.  Her breasts are wonderfully small with nipples that show through the perfect amount. I feel her nipples through the fabric and receive a grunt of pleasure as a reward.  My hand moves upward and wraps around her throat for a moment, and then slides under the ribbed cotton weave of her tank top, and I feel her breast in my hand for the first time.

This almost make me cum.  I have dreamed of this moment for months.  Through hours and hours of rehearsal, edits, re-writes, table reads, and painting. I watched her every day at rehearsal. Tight yoga pants, a barely there tank top, perfect makeup and a smile.

She is a hugger and greeted everyone as if they were long lost friends. I gladly accepted her greeting each time but, I longed for more, I longed to wrap my arms around her slim waist and hold on until she could feel my cock grooming between us.

I wanted to hold on to her until she chose to kneel before me, unzip my pants, and take my hard shaft into her mouth. I thought of her constantly, at work, during church, while I was deep inside my wife, when I had quiet moments in the backyard.

It took a while, but we became friends, more than friends, and the tension between us grew but I took my time. I waited.

I confirmed her feelings subtly, I volunteered to drop things off at her office, her storage unit, so we could meet without the gazing eyes of the rest of the cast and crew. Her hugs got longer, instead of me extending them, she would hold on as long as I would let her.

Several weeks went by, the production came and went and was a great success. She is a rising star, and the local theater scene has noticed. I would not have much longer with her. She would be discovered, made famous, and move on.

My opportunity came when we had to work on a new set, I needed help with painting, she invited some of her friends but they did not arrive. So, I gave her a tour of the house.  And now, here we were, I stood next to her, next to my marital bed, and stroked the soft perfect lips of her pussy. She didn't like it to be called that.  I overheard her talking and she said she hated that word, so I didn't say it out loud.

My hand played with her hard nipples. My right hand slipped between her legs and they cupper her soft lips on purpose. No more teasing, no more playing coy. My fingers stroked up and down and found her clit and circled it roughly and she almost collapsed to the bed. My hand held up her chest and I brought her back up to her knees. Finally, I penetrated, and she came. She came on my fingers, clenching come holding on, unable to let go.

After a few minutes, she caught her breath, gained control of her voice, and stopped mewling like a frightened kitten.  Her head dropped between her arms and I let her settle into the pillows my wife bought to go with the new curtains.

I placed my hands on her hip, holding her down, pressing her into the soft, warm bed, allowing her to breath, think, gather, recover, and collect.

I don’t know how long we stayed there, silent, perhaps a bit stunned as to what had just happened. I waited, quietly, until I felt her shift under my hands.

She rolled on to her back, demurely keeping her knees together, until her face came in to view.

She reached up and took my face in her hands.

“Thank you.” She said, and we shared our first kiss.

“Are you OK?” I asked as I move a lock of red hair off her forehead.

“I’m more thank OK,” she responded.  I felt her body shift again and I felt her legs open wide. “In fact, I’m ready for more.”