Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Swinging, White Couple, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Size, Doctor/Nurse, Slow,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The three of them had it all: money, power, respect. And a dark secret that bound them even closer than their sexual triangle. They had it all until into their lives came Leigha. Sweet, innocent, beautiful, married Leigha. They had to have her no matter what it took.
Leigha looked out the window at the wide span of mountains. No matter how many times she saw them or how long she had lived there, she was still totally in awe of the beauty.
Today, they were on the way to Salt Lake City. Even the sound of the big diesel pulling them along was a quiet comfort to her. The purple Kenworth seemed to take each hill in stride, carefully navigating every long curve with Marty's skillful hands. He had been making the trip at least once a week for the past few years and knew every hill, every dangerous curve and, of course, every truck stop by heart.
In the past, she had been able to ride with him only on occasion. Now, though, it seemed like it was pretty close to an every week thing. Especially since she had strained some muscles some months ago. Maybe it was just everybody's way of making sure she stayed off her feet. She had a tendency to endure the pain and try to accomplish the task for which she was responsible. They were probably right. She needed to back off those things.
She glanced again over at Marty. Just like the countryside, she never tired of looking at him. They had been married four years and lived in Wyoming for three. He was a very handsome man and she loved him. He was always very thoughtful and as accommodating as could be.
Recently that was even more true than usual. In the past, their sex life had always been a comfort to her. She loved it when he lay on her and entered, softly but strongly filling her body with his. The nice slow orgasms he produced were always fulfilling. Bluntly, there were times when she was very attracted to certain other men but she had always felt their own love life was fantastic and their marriage was certainly wonderful.
Lately, though, there had been some massive changes in their lives. His recent tenacity when they were in bed, his new appetites, and a new aggressiveness he had never shown before. Not that she was complaining. She knew that her own sexual appetite in the past few months had somehow become voracious in itself. All of Marty's new attention with his hands and mouth were more than welcome and his soft screwing had become poundings. She couldn't seem to get enough, almost as if her new sex needs were driven from outside.
For some reason these torrid sessions and the "invitation to ride" always came immediately after one of her visits to Doctor Ryan's office, often within hours. She didn't know exactly what was fueling their sexual appetites; her totally lack of pain after each of those visits or the fact that, for some reason, her pussy and her senses were on fire for many hours if not days each time she left his office.
There were limits, though. She was still uncomfortable with the new little painting on the side of the truck. It said "Ridin' Leigha" on it and depicted a girl in a real short skirt leaning forward over a table, bent at the waist with her hands in front bracing her. Her legs were slightly bent and wide open. A man was in between them, grasping the girl's hips with each hand, very obviously making love to her from behind.
The problem was that the girl was an exact likeness of herself, right down to hair length and shape of legs. It was really embarrassing knowing that people she knew could see it.
She looked down at the little green book lying on the console separating them. That's one thing about traveling in a big truck. There is a huge amount of space between the seats. She smiled inwardly at the novel. Oh, she saw plenty of "adult" bookstores along the highway trying to entice the drivers in, but she was amazed that her sweet Marty was hooked on them.
It just wasn't his personality. Or rather, she hadn't seen any of this until just recently. But, all of a sudden, he seemed to get a kick out of her reading them. Actually, they were all stupid and she told him so. They were all the same. Very little story and a lot of "I-I-I-m-m-m-m-m cu-u-u-u-m-m-m-mi-i-i-n-n-ng-g-g-g"
Just the thought of it made her giggle. But if that's what he wanted, it was a small way to please him.
And he was just as intense about what she wore on these trips. For some reason he wouldn't let her even entertain the thought of jeans. It had to be dresses or very, very loose wide legged shorts.
Again, if that's what he wanted so be it, she thought.
With that in mind, she slowly picked the book up, thumbed through it casually, and started to idly read.
Marty watched Leigha out of the corner of his eye. Whenever she picked up one of the books he provided he tried to be as casual and inconspicuous as possible. He certainly didn't want to do anything that detracted away from the situation and bring her attention to him. He carefully reached down beside the left side of his seat and touched a little timer he carried with him, one that was always out of view of Leigha.
He was already starting to get antsy, feeling the erotic tension as it began to rise in the cab. He knew Leigha laughed off the books. The thing was, it never failed to turn her on.
Just a few months ago it wouldn't have happened. But now, it was different. There had been sort of a rebirth with the two of them recently, drastic changes that he would have never dreamed possible. Out of those life changing experiences that effected them was Leigha and masturbation.
It was only months ago that, during an intense foreplay period, she had somehow agreed to let him watch her bring herself off.
It only took once! After that, he didn't hide the fact that he had a huge appetite for it. She didn't come across often but just enough to keep the thought alive and his heart pumping.
What he discovered was that she needed a "jump start" in order to do it without any inhibitions.
The idea of the books on these long rides wasn't his. Instead, a close friend suggested that he "accidentally" leave one of them in his truck and let her find it. She bashed him verbally about it at first, but when it all quieted down and she dared to venture inside it's cheap covers she became hooked. After that, he made sure he had one for her to "accidentally discover" on each trip. He really had no idea how erotic it would become.
Leigha would start out reading at some point on the trip. Normally it was within an hour after leaving town. Once she started reading, they never spoke. She would shake her head and laugh out loud at the book but always continued to read. It varied, but on a good day it would be about thirty minutes or so before she started showing the first signs of it affecting her.
Her fingers would start to bend back and forth against the pages of the book, not going anyplace but more like she were gently rubbing her clit. Whenever it happened, Marty knew the show was to begin.
Leigha was right handed so five to ten minutes later she would shift the book into her left hand. Slowly, her right hand would start its move. Slowly, quietly, it began. The miniscule inching up of her skirt or loose shorts. Tiny, tiny movements that brought the hem up inch by tantalizing inch.
Marty loved when she wore long skirts. That slow, agonizing process of the cloth inching up so slowly, so erotically. That in itself would almost make him come. He had to be careful not to touch himself or it would.
Over a period of time, the crotch of her panties would come in view. That's when she would start to tease herself, her finger sliding lightly over her cloth covered pussy as she was getting deeper and deeper into the book. At this point she was no longer laughing or ridiculing the story. Instead, she was totally engrossed while it was producing its intended effect on her.
When she teased herself to the point of breaking, her fingers always found and slid under the right leg band of her panties. Once she slipped under and began touched her clit there was no guessing: there was an immediate reaction from her hips. Her torso thrust up, her hips moving to meet her fingers.
From there, it was just a matter of watching her build. As it intensified her ass always started a slow gyration on the seat. As the time approached, it never failed that Leigha would lay the book down, look out the right window, and begin her orgasm. Her feet always jammed into the floorboard and her head would force back hard against the back of the seat, lifting her body slightly off the seat.
And then she became vocal. Very vocal. She absolutely abandoned herself to her pleasure, not caring that Marty was in the cab with her. When she was through, she would look out the window again or close her eyes, her hand never leaving her crotch. It wasn't a bit unusual for her to continue until she came three or four times, going back to the book each time until the combination of the action of her hand and the stimulation from the book swept her over.
Today, Marty watched as she did it again. As always, he was absolutely hard with her performance. He checked his timer. It had taken her thirty-eight minutes from the time she had started reading to the time she started to inch her skirt up. Once she started rubbing her pussy it took her nine minutes to come. It was a little side game he played and found of extreme interest. It was incredibly fun and erotic.
Today was a bit too much for Marty. It was not at all unusual for him to pull over as soon as possible and take Leigha right there in the cab. Most of the time it was at a truck rest. Today was different. The timing was such that an "off the road" pullover was just not available and he wasn't going to let his hard-on burst in his pants.
Leigha was breathing heavily and her fingers still caressing her swollen clit while her ass was squirming nonstop on the seat. He wasn't going to waste the moment.
Thank goodness he was nearing the top of a large hill and there was safety shoulders wide enough for him to pull over. When he stopped and set the brakes and emergency lights he was over on her side, his knees on the floorboard and his face between her legs. Today, he didn't want to waste even a drop of what she had created for him to devour.
Leigha slid down in the seat and sprawled out, opening her legs wide before dropping them over Marty's shoulders. This was part of the "new" them that she loved. She knew he would work fast today, bringing her off with his tongue and licking every bit of wetness from her before taking her with his hard cock in a whirlwind fashion before coming.
She had come to love it, accepting it as the best part of the trip.
Five minutes into it she was moaning lightly, her hips moving in large circles as Marty slowly licked her and darted his tongue in and out of her wetness. Her eyes were almost closed, lids drooping in the warm feelings washing through her.
But not all the way closed.
She saw the crease in the hat first. Then the brim and finally the eyes hidden by the sunglasses.
He had stepped up on the steps of the truck without either of them hearing him.
Frozen in the throes of an orgasm and not knowing what to do anyway she just stared at him and came, her mouth opening in a long moan as her body stiffened then quaked with the orgasm.
Her eyes never left the intruder's. Without a word, he smiled and slid down, out of sight.
Just then Marty came up and mounted her, thrusting himself inside her in what she knew would be a thirty second fuck.
She was too stunned to pay him much attention. What in the world was happening to her?
Over the past few months everything had been so changed, so erotically charged. She had become involved with things she had never deemed impossible. Now, she had stared a state trooper down while her husband's face was buried in her crotch.
And she had just kept cumming!
How could things have changed so fast? How could they have gone so far?
Leigha had no way to know there were definite answers to her questions. There were no coincidences.
There were players in her life, each of them carefully manipulating until they were influencing.
It's just that she didn't about know about them until it was too late.
Leigha had no idea how much her life had been influenced by others. More than any master plan, it was more just something that developed out of the wild blue. Slowly developing circumstances based on "what ifs" in the minds of two friends more than anything else.
Their names were Dusty Goff and David Ryan and their first contact with Leigha and Marty happened a few years before. It all came down to a wealthy man and his wise partner being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong time, depending on your view.
And patience. Lots of patience.
Three years before the state trooper incident, Marty and Leigha had moved to Wyoming to live with a relative while they were trying to get their feet financially on the ground. Marty had lost his job in another town and Leigha's little income just wasn't enough to sustain them.
It was difficult living with another family, especially as young as they were, but they had to take what they could. Both of them found small jobs but they knew it wasn't going to work for them. At best, the future was full of frightening questions.
It didn't help at all when within a month of their arrival Marty was working around an old barn and cut his hand on a rusty nail. Not only was it going to cost him some days of pay but also there was a doctor's bill to deal with. They could afford neither.
That nail changed their lives. It was at Doctor Ryan's office that it all started. Sometimes fate has a way of showing up in very strange places.
Marty was in the patient's room getting his hand looked at. He had asked her to stay out in the waiting room, saying that he was okay and insisting she didn't need to be with him. Secretly, he had never had stitches before and didn't know how he would react. They hadn't been married that long and he didn't want her there for "the show' if things went badly. Who wants his new wife to see him pass out?
It was there in the waiting room that fate stepped in. Actually, Dusty did.
Dusty had brought some papers in for Doctor Ryan to sign. He had been with him a long time and Doctor Ryan was "Dave" to Dusty. Over the years their relationship had moved far beyond that of an employer and an employee. Not only had David Ryan turned over unquestioned operational and business control of his ranch to Dusty but also they shared a strong common interest. In more ways than one.
Women. Including Rhonda, David's wife.
It often became the center of their conversations and neither of them seemed to mind it. And they were complete opposites. David had the smoothness and sophistication of a third generation doctor with an accumulation of wealth.
Dusty was a workhorse. His ranching and business savvy far exceeded David's ability. That's why he was very wisely appointed to be "the man." There wasn't a person in town except for David and Rhonda that knew Dusty had a master's degree. He didn't flaunt it and nobody would have guessed.
Their common thread was women. And the way they had with them. Their approach was completely different. Fearing exposure, David had to leave town to fool around. He never missed a chance to go to any type of medical conference, seldom taking Rhonda with him. On his own, he was a suave pussy hound that never came home unsatisfied.
Not Dusty. He had more nerve than that. All those young local wives that the two of them often discussed and secretly desired were fair game to him. To Dusty, they were not just a release for his enormous sexual appetite but a challenge that made it all the more satisfying. He had been with enough of them that there was more than just a little "small talk" about him and his conquests when women huddled secretly and their thoughts could come out in private.
It wasn't just small talk. He was forty-one, toned and bronze from his work, and a tremendous dancer. In that small county, his dancing was like an irresistible magnet to wives whose own husbands had three feet. When the night was over and the prize taken Dusty had a habit of taking each of the ladies panties home with him when the rendezvous was over.
He had a treasure chest of them, each with it's own story that he knew by heart but would never indulge. Dusty was a cocksman, but even more so he was a gentleman and a secret was a secret.
Through the years, over thirty women in that county had come home at one time or the other without their underwear. Many of them on multiple occasions. Dusty got more pussy than most husbands.
On that particular day when Marty had to visit the office, as Dusty went through the front office he couldn't help but notice Leigha sitting there reading a magazine. Long brown hair, shapely legs protruding from a pair of denim shorts. She was, in Dusty's eyes, stunning. He knew she was new in town or he would have certainly noticed her before.
He stepped behind the desk and silently motioned with his head toward Leigha. Rhonda, who was not only Doctor Ryan's wife but also his office manager, missed the signal for a second then understood. She reached for the questionnaire that the two youngsters had just filled out and slid it over for Dusty's review. She knew that it was against the law but her relationship with Dusty went way beyond that. Way beyond.
Dusty studied it quickly. It told a huge story. And an accurate one. They were new in town and in bad trouble financially.
Dusty glanced back up and then mouthed to Rhonda, "Where is he?"
She held up three fingers. His eyes lit up. Room three. What luck!
Quietly, quickly, he walked through a small door that led to their supply room. He was back in two minutes. He patiently waited until Leigha looked up before speaking to her.
Their conversation was casual. Mostly Dusty asking innocently why she was there and, once told, asked about Marty a little. He sat down beside her not only to break the ice but also to take in her beauty at arms length. Her smell was intoxicating to him. It reminded him of somebody. Somebody very special, even after all these years.
Knowing he was pressing his time, he wished her luck and walked into a little side office. Immediately, he buzzed back to room three where David was treating Marty.
David was irritated at first at the intrusion. It went away immediately when he heard Dusty's voice. He always had time for Dusty.
"That kid in your office. What'd you think of'm?"
"Seems okay." David looked at him. A strong, strapping, good looking kid.
"Did you see who he's with?"
At the moment, David was still busy being "Doctor Ryan" and it stayed that way. He was able to use bandages instead of stitches and all he wanted to do at that time was take care of the patient.
But when he was through he walked Marty out into the waiting room. What was up with Dusty?
He saw her and immediately was as taken as Dusty. He exchanged casual conversation with Leigha, mostly concerning Marty's hand but managing to get in a little personal information as he did.
When they left, he went straight in to see Dusty. There were documents to sign and he had patients waiting.
Dusty brought him to a standstill.
"What'd you think?"
"Shit, she's a knockout. Why?"
"You know that little job we were thinking about filling. They'd be perfect."
David's breath sucked in. He was immediately on the same wavelength as Dusty.
"You think so? Think they'd want it?"
"I'll make it so they can't turn it down. You've got too damned much money anyhow, Sawbones." He grinned. It was the truth and they both knew it.
"Do it." David shrugged his shoulders. He had to leave. He knew he could trust everything to Dusty. The rest of the day's patients got no more of his mental attention than was just enough. His thoughts were all on the long legged brunette that had graced his office.
He would absolutely love to get her in room three.
That night, Dusty's ideas were almost the same. His thoughts went just a little further. He was sitting outside on the front porch of his little cottage on the ranch, enjoying the evening. There was something particularly quiet and comforting about a ranch at night. Cows, horses and the few men that stayed there at night. The sounds all just seemed to melt together in a harmony that was so soothing.
At those times his mind would wonder. As it did that night.
If anybody had approached he would have to quickly put the item in his hand away. There's no way he could explain it away.
Not a white satin thong. Brandy's white satin wedding thong.
He sat very quietly and gently ran his fingers over the material. Always, as he was doing it, his mind wandered back to that night ten years ago. That unforgettable night.
He knew Brandy very well yet didn't know her at all. He had seen her dozens of times on the sidelines of the high school basketball games, ones of which he never missed. He was the Falcons basketball team's biggest fan.
Like the other girls, she was picture perfect. Slim body, the perfect mounds protruding from her chest bouncing with her movements, perfect hair, perfect everything. But actually, as attractive as she was, she didn't stand out from the other five girls. They were all beautiful.
What made Brandy different was her personality. She was very outgoing, extremely nice and friendly to everyone and a real pleasure to be around. Despite their age difference, the two of them danced together often at barn dances and the like.
She was also sultry to the point of being mischievous. It wasn't so much that she was a big flirt. It was more that every time she walked away your cock was hard and, for some reason, you thought that you were just on the verge of having some of that. Actually, you knew in fact it was out of the question.
It was strange, but it seemed to happen to him every time. He often wondered if every male who came in contact with her felt the same. Probably not. Most likely it was just his runaway imagination.
As was normal for pretty young girls in the county, she went fast. Two years to the night after graduation she walked down the aisle with an absolutely wonderful young man that anybody would want as a son or son-in-law. Jason was a great kid, hard working and on his way up. He was just short of a college degree and insisted on paying his own way. Dusty had hired him a couple of times for summer work and you couldn't ask for better.
Their wedding was much like others in the area. Large in attendance, small in extravagance. Folks didn't have a lot to spend on weddings here. In a rare move, Dusty acknowledged the event and attended. Dressed in his best hat and a western style jacket, he turned a few heads himself.
Not like the bride, though.
She was in a word, astonishing. Dusty thought she had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. After the vows and before the reception, she did what seemed to be all the rage then and changed into a different bridal dress that was more comfortable and easier to manage. Instead of the long traditional gown, this was very short and super sexy. Whether that was the intent or not could be questioned. The final outcome was that she looked sensational.
When Jason took off her garter to throw it, he didn't have to move that hem up at all to get to it. The top of her sheer white thigh high stockings was barely covered by the hem of the dress and everybody around easily got a glance of her tanned thigh protruding out of the stocking. You could see the men react to the sight. It was pure sex.
After the wedding Dusty went to a small bar for thirty minutes then headed out to the far side of the ranch. It was wild country back there and there had been problems with wolves for a while. Besides, after the events of the evening he felt like being alone.
About ten miles out of town his headlights hit a car on the side of the road. He would have stopped anyway because it could be thirty minutes between cars out there. But when he saw the flash of a short white dress his heart lurched. Something was wrong with Brandy and Jason!
When he pulled up and stopped he found different. Something was wrong with Jason. And was it ever! He was down in front of the car just heaving, throwing up everything including his heart, it sounded like. The nice groom had taken in a little too much champagne.
Brandy was crying softly, wringing her hands together.
"I don't know what to do," she said.
Dusty spoke softly, calming her down, and found out what was going on.
They were "sneaking" out of town to an old cabin way back in the hills that had been converted to a high dollar bed and breakfast. Dusty knew the owner and had spent many nights there, never alone. The problem was that it was still ten miles away on a rough road and she was almost as high as Jason. Neither was in condition to drive. Their parents should never have let them leave the wedding.
There wasn't much choice. He was going to have to leave his truck and drive them on to the cabin. He could always pick up his truck later after they called him on their cellular phone for a ride home. Brandy begged him to keep it secret.
It took a few minutes and a few stops to accommodate Jason before he could get them there but they made it. Among abundant and profuse apologies from the couple, Dusty helped Brandy get Jason on a bed where he immediately passed out.
Brandy was beside herself, fretting away about the situation. Dusty could tell she was as much disappointed and ashamed of their situation as she was scared. He took a few minutes to calm her down, letting her know that the worse was over. Jason was off the road and sleeping. The rest was up to his body and it would take care of that, probably before the night was over but definitely by the next day.
"Oh, you still have your honeymoon night somewhat intact," he laughed. At the same time he was totally aware of her proximity. In her carelessness not only was that short white dress doing a terrible job of concealing her breast spilling out of a tiny bra but also she was giving him frequent glimpses of white panties. Tanned bare legs protruding from the top of white stockings was abundant.
And as he knew, she was two sheets to the wind herself. How was he going to walk away and leave the two of them as they were? He couldn't, but they were on their wedding night!
Brandy resolved the problem for him.
"Can you stay for a while? Maybe to see if he wakes up?"
He couldn't say no. Then, there came a little surprise.
She came out with a bottle of wine and two fancy glasses.
"My Grandmother gave this to me and said I needed to have some on my wedding night for luck. He can't have it. Will you drink a glass with me?"
He started to tell her she was already well past the point of needing additional alcohol but thought better and nodded. It was her wedding night and he wanted her to remember it forever. And he would be part of that memory.
"Sure, it would be an honor."
He popped the little cork for her and they sat on a swing seat on the front porch, looking into the darkness. There was a pale light coming out of the living room onto the porch and the moon and stars were out. It was a beautiful night.
After a few minutes she either relaxed and saw the humor in it all or the additional wine did the job. She loosened up and started to laugh as they spoke.
"It's beautiful out here tonight. Just as I imagined it. Too bad old dummy in there drank too much."
"Don't be too tough on him. You've got a really wonderful guy in there." Dusty was giving her good and honest advice.
"Yeah, I know." She shrugged her shoulders up and giggled when she said it, much like the schoolgirl she still was.
When she did both breasts almost spilled out of the top of her dress. There was obviously nothing of substance holding them in and very little room for error.
His cock lurched. Normally, he wouldn't see a hard cock as being a problem. Tonight was different. He didn't think it was such a good idea for him to be sitting or walking around with it sticking out of his pants.
She certainly didn't pick up on it. Brandy was really, really starting to unwind, not from just the day but from the months of preparation. She felt good, she knew she looked good, and at least she had a really attractive and nice person to get her through the evening until her dream guy woke up in there.
Through it all, she shivered.
Dusty said, " Do you want me to get a cover?"
"No, I'm okay." But as she said it she moved over against him a little. Whether or not it was intentional, he couldn't tell. It just happened.
Was it a reflex or was it a conscious move? In a very natural way, Dusty's arm went out and around her, his large rough hand landing on her upper arm.
She shivered again and moved in closer. Then, as if nothing had happened, they began to talk. Nothing of importance or deep thought but more or less just chatter about the wedding, the people there, and the couple's future.
Dusty was as accommodating and talkative as he could be with his heart pounding and his cock lurching. By this time she had somehow snuggled in against him as if they were on a date to a drive-in movie.
Neither may have known when it actually happened. It went from a slight movement of his large hand up and down her arm to a light, light teasing of his fingertips over the bare flesh.
By then Brandy was very much in her own world. The day, the wine, and the soft thoughts of what were to come in the future put her in a mood that could hardly be fouled. She enjoyed Dusty's light touch and the warmth it provided. Her eyes closed slightly and she let her mind drift.
So did Dusty's fingers. Carefully, they drifted slowly over to her left breast. Effortlessly, his experienced fingers slowly entered the top of her dress, sliding down smoothly as if they had a will of their own. The nothing bra she had on was more of an invitation then an obstacle to his roving fingers. Under the circumstances it took no time to find his target. Mission accomplished!
With very little effort he was gently rolling a hard nipple between his fingers. At first there was a slight stiffening of her body, then a noticeable relaxation. What was obviously missing was any protest.
Dusty did a quick inner check within himself. Was he going to do this? He didn't exactly know how far he could press with this but would he abandon any moral issues he would normally have under the exact circumstances?
Maybe he wouldn't have gone any further. Maybe he would have stopped at only massaging that one nipple. Maybe.
If she hadn't let out a tiny moan.
Oh, it was there. No doubt about it. It was small but it was very distinguishable. Through her sleepy stupor she had reacted to his touch. Her voice voted "yes" to his touch.
Carefully, not to overreact to her, he gently cupped her breast under the bra. This time it was Dusty letting out a little sound. My God, it was so full, so firm! If he had ever thought before that they were perfect, he now knew for sure.
He began a gentle massage. In her heavenly stupor, Brandy could feel it. It's just that she didn't bother to distinguish from who it was coming. It just felt nice... nice and warm, nice and gentle. Just like her wedding night should be.
Maybe just a reflex from the soothing mood, she moved her hand up and covered his. Not to remove it, but more as a solid support gesture, letting "him" know that she was under the influence of his touch.
Dusty sucked in his breath again. This was where the men got separated from the boys. Men knew what to do right then. Boys didn't. It was that simple.
Now, the moral factor was another situation altogether. This was very fickle. We're talking about taking a young bride on her wedding night. And evidently, at least a little bit with her cooperation. Exactly how far would this be allowed before somebody came to her senses?
The old saying is right.
"A hard cock has no conscious!"
Slowly, very warmly, very sensitively, Brandy felt knowing fingers touch her knee. It didn't faze her, didn't alert or alarm her in any way, as they slowly circled and literally inch-by-inch moved up her leg.
It took Dusty five minutes before he even got to the top of her stockings. When he finally did and his fingertips hit bare skin, they both sucked in. His hands lurched a little. There was a definite spastic reaction from her.
Brandy knew fingers were there. The little circles, the tiny kneading of her supple skin, it was all in her mind. Her brain picked it all up. Nothing was missed as far as the touch. Who was providing the touch was of no concern to her in the fog she had allowed herself to enter.
Finally, the anticipated touch. The one he was waiting far, the one she would either react to or react against. That tiny little wisp of fingertips up and down her white covered channel.
She moaned again, this time a little louder than before. And there it was. What Dusty was looking for. The little thrust of the pelvic, pushing her pussy against his hand.
Slowly, he increased the pressure, the speed. Each time she scooted in a little closer to him, emitting little mewing sounds. She was feeling good and she wasn't hiding it from anybody.
The search, the decision, the move. His fingertips softly and slowly slipped under the leg band of her thong, delving into her wet mound. It was no surprise when the knowing, experienced fingers found her clit it had quickly changed from just a clitoris to a swollen, hardened clitoris. A bunch of nerves that would, at least for a short while, void all other senses of reality.
Brandy was already there. Not that there had been any inhibitions in the past few minutes anyway, but now all she could think of or feel was the touch. It was if she were floating on a cloud of pleasure. She wasn't sure of, and didn't care to recognize, the source.
Dusty moved slowly, drawing pitiful little moans out of her as he slowly and skillfully manipulated her clit. This was old stuff to him. Many women had groveled and reacted to his touch. Yet, his heart was racing as if there were no tomorrow and his cock was painfully stiff in his pants.
As she mewed softly and began making those little tell-tell circles with her hips, he knew he had to make a choice. This whole thing was a time related bombshell and he knew it. There was no way she was going to stay this way forever before she reacted in an entirely different way or, worse still, a hung over husband wandered out the door. And for sure, any orgasm was going to cut it off.
He made his choice. This would be what he remembered.
Slowly, without removing his hand from under her dress, he slid off the seat and slipped his head down. Slowly, methodically, he used his free hand and his head to push the short skirt up until it was to her thong.
When he removed his hand for a second, Brandy gently moaned disappointment. She hardly recognized the thong slowly moving down her legs because that wasn't the sensation she was looking for. She was fully concentrating on the nerves between her legs.
She was well rewarded. Softly, knowingly, an experienced mouth slowly ascended her leg and a tongue replaced the gentle touch of his fingers. A warm mouth followed, covering her clit while a tongue slipped in and out of her wetness.
A mouth that for over a period of fifteen minutes consumed her, body and soul. Once she was totally caught up in it, once she had slipped past any real chance of reversal, she totally released to him.
Loud moans, grinding hips begging for more as strong hands reached up and roughly manipulating her sensitive breast through their confines, all of it consumed her.
Dusty was caught in a world of supreme eroticism and absolute fear. This was going way over the edge and it could easily collapse on him. He just couldn't seem to stop. He was like a drunk with a new bottle of cheap whiskey.
When it happened, it happened fast. All at once she started grinding her hips real hard against his face then froze in place for a few seconds, her hips elevated off the seat.
"A-a-a-a-h-h-h-h-h," just poured out of her. If Jason were awake at all he would have heard it inside.
The rotating hips became thrashing hips. Then the shudder. The long, stomach-convulsing shudder that tells it all. If it weren't over it now it would be soon.
Dusty regretted it but he made the decision. He took his head away and moved back, pulling her dress down as he went.
Then he waited for her to recover, which was a certainty.
He was right. Her hips continued to writhe for a while and her breathing was ragged but inside a minute she was starting to stir around as if coming out of a coma and looking for her surroundings.
"Wow!" she smiled weakly at him. She felt like she had just woke up from an extremely erotic sleep. She hoped he couldn't tell how she was tingling all over, how her pussy was so wet and on fire.
She was embarrassed that he was there, watching her with such interest.
"I must have passed out for a while. I'm sorry."
He was surprised she didn't hear his sigh of relief.
"No, no, you were fine," he assured her.
He quickly palmed something in his hand. There had been no time to do anything about it. She would be mighty concerned about finding her wedding thong lying on the seat or porch floor. He'd have to take the chance that later she just wouldn't be able to find it and not know what happened to it.
About that time they both heard a tragic moan from inside.
"My hero is awake, " she said lightly. She said it with love, not irony. Dusty envied him so much!
Dusty knew it was over and he was looking to leave. Just as he was set to walk away she walked up to him and put both hands high on his chest. She pulled him over and gently kissed him on the mouth. It may have been gentle but it was lingering, a full five seconds, and it went straight through him like a lightening bolt. It had been a long time since he had reacted to a kiss like that.
"Thanks for taking care of us. It's not great tonight but we still have tomorrow. It's not very often any more that a groom gets to take a virgin on their wedding night. We'll get it right!"
Dusty sucked in his breath, mumbled a thank you, and walked out into the darkness. His hard would stay that way for a long time.
"Oh, my God," he thought to himself. "What if I had tried to take that all the way?"
Instead, what he had left was satin panties. The thong was as real as his memories.
And so it was. As it happened so many years before.
As he sat on the porch that night he fingered the white satin and thought of Leigha. The beauty of her, the soft personality.
He couldn't help but wonder. Could he make it as special as Brandy?
He could. It would just take a while.