Sharing Love - Cover

Sharing Love

Copyright© 2006 by Polaris

Chapter 3

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - A newly single professor discovers the joy of watching, and finds it need not be a solitary pleasure.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Voyeurism   Slow  

As one might expect, I wandered through the next day at work in a fog of satiated sensuality and sexual fatigue. As I made my way home, though, I was amazed to find myself beginning to step more quickly, with remembered visions of Cindy and Myself, and of my upstairs neighbors, heating my thoughts. I hurried down my street to my apartment and saw, from some distance away, a small, forlorn figure seated on my front steps.

Imagining all sorts of disastrous scenarios between Cindy and Fred, I hurried up the walk toward her. She grinned that fabulous grin at me, though, and jumped up happily. Relieved, I moved to hug her. I received a quick but frankly amorous kiss, a surreptitious grope and a happy "Hi!"

I returned all three as best I could, then held her away to inspect her. She smiled brightly at me, but her eyes wavered away from mine, briefly, then returned, uncertainly. I noticed a pair of suitcases and a large plastic bag, stuffed with - of course - tee shirts and cutoffs, beside her. "How are you?" I asked.

"Well, I'm free," she ventured, somewhat carefully. "I mean - Fred threw me out. So, I'm I free woman. So, uh, will you still have me? I mean - do you still want me to..."

"Oh, Hell yes!" I beamed. "Did you think that was just bullshit, last night?"

She gave me a super, high-wattage version of her smile, making me feel like a very lucky man, and giving me great hopes for the evening. "Not really," she said, "but I hadn't seen you all day, and people say stuff while they're... well, when they..." she trailed off, shrugging.

"In bed?" I whispered conspiratorially. "Making love? Having sex? Doing the dirty? Bumpin' uglies? Fookin'?" I leered at her as evilly as I knew how.

"Well, yes." She admitted, slapping my arm and pretending to pout. "I believed you, but then I was sitting here outside your door like an orphan, and I started to wonder..." She shook her head and frowned up at me quizzically. "... Fookin'?"

"Technical term," I told her. "Only for collitch perfessers and such. Means fucking. Wanna?" I tried the leer again.

"Gee, I don't know, professor," she gave me, in a little girly-girl voice. She turned baby-blues up at me and batted her eyelashes. "Are you sure you're not just being nice to me so I'll let you - you know..."

"Of course not, my dear," I assured her professorially. I swept grandly past her, picked up her luggage, and went through the door ahead of her. "Why, someday, I may even want to have a conversation with you."

That earned me a kick in the rump, hard enough to make me think twice before teasing her again. But then I heard that terrific giggle behind me, as she picked up her bag of clothes and followed me in, for our first full night together.

We opted for sushi this time, continuing our progress through the take-out spectrum. We chattered like old friends as we attempted chopsticks - Cindy much more proficient that I - and dribbled soy sauce, wasabi and green tea onto the table. Sated, we compressed the leftover Styrofoam-rice-and-sauce mess into the trashcan, retrieved new beers from the refrigerator, and ambled out to the front porch to enjoy the coolness.

We really did seem to have the easy, uninhibited camaraderie of old friends, but we also had two new lifetimes of experience, feelings, and opinions to exchange. Ours was easily the most enjoyable conversation I've ever shared, with the bonus of glancing over occasionally, as the dusk slowly fell, to see Cindy leaning back in her chair, graceful legs propped up on the porch railing, breasts riding high and firm, her lovely child-woman face silhouetted, spending the evening with me.

Eventually the beers were empty, the sun was gone, and, perhaps, thoughts of bed were intruding. We moved into the kitchen, fiddling with our bottles, not certain what to do. Suddenly, though, we raised our heads simultaneously as a sound reached us from above. As clear and unmistakable as could be, a long, passionate groan emanated from upstairs, followed by the rhythmic thump of a bed against a wall.

Our eyes met. Each of us, I think, wondering how the other would react this time, and each of us wanting to go, run, hurry out and up to the porch. Cindy broke first, quickly shoving her bottle into the trash and heading down the hall. Over her shoulder she gave me a self-mocking grin, but there was no concealing her haste to get upstairs. I hesitated only an instant, fumbling my own bottle into the trash, dropping it instead on the floor, then leaving it to roll under the table as I hurried along behind her, cursing my clumsiness and laughing at my own eagerness.

By the time I moved up the stairs, Cindy was already on hands and knees at the window. I slowed momentarily to look around. All was in darkness, and there was no sign of anyone who might see us at our voyeuristic mischief. I looked at Cindy, her attention riveted on the lovers, and I was filled with amazement and gratitude at my luck. Now it was time for us to share this happy, lusty thing. I moved silently, eagerly, up the stairs to join her - and them. As my eyes rose above the windowsill, I could see that our couple was indeed at it again. Past Cindy's shapely, denim-clad rear, I could see that he was in his woman from behind, just as I had mounted Cindy last night.

I remembered my feeling of kinship for him, and her, and Cindy, and all lovers everywhere; for our private, shared, acts of love. Smiling to myself, I moved up behind Cindy, touching her flank to tell her of my presence. She glanced back at me and offered a quick smile of welcome, then returned her gaze to the lovers inside. I moved closer, peering under the curtain. He was stroking steadily, strongly into her, his buttocks clenching and relaxing as he sought their mutual release. She was mostly hidden under his body, her head away from us toward the wall, but the sounds of pleasure and encouragement she was making were clear and exciting. I touched Cindy's sweet bottom, and was elated to feel it clenching in synch with the lovers.

Unconsciously stroking Cindy's pulsing buttock, I looked again through the window, just in time to see him disengage and move back, exposing his lover's flushed, shining pussy to us. Her entrance gaped briefly and then closed itself coyly, as if aware of our stares. She lifted her head from the pillow, then twisted lithely onto her back as he waited, kneeling, above her. He was stroking himself slowly, his gaze fixed on his target as she settled herself for his continued, loving, assault. She smiled lovingly and spread her thighs in the classic invitation, her vulva upraised and parted. Cindy inhaled sharply in seeming anticipation as he moved forward over her and raised his buttocks, tensing to position the head of his stiffly swinging cock at her opening.

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