Twenty Years of Friendship, One Forbidden Morning

Her bedroom door hung open. Mirror caught every move. I sat in the kitchen, coffee cooling, heart already thumping. Delphine slipped off her robe. Sunlight poured through, outlining her curves. Forty years old, three kids, still goddamn perfect. Full breasts, soft hips, that ass I’d never dared imagine up close. She turned, caught my stare in the reflection. No gasp. No door slam. Just a shy smile, like she’d been waiting.

Pulse racing. Married. Friends forever. Marc like a brother. But my feet moved anyway. Down the hall. No turning back. Doorway framed her naked back, rummaging in the closet. Shoulders bare, spine dipping to dimples above her cheeks. I stepped in. Hands on her shoulders. Warm skin. She froze, but didn’t pull away. Breath hitched. Mine too. ‘Close your eyes,’ I whispered. Trust me.

The Approach

Silk scarf from the shelf. Slid it up her back, cool against heat. Tied gentle over her eyes. She stood still, arms loose. Legs parted just a whisper. My palms glided down—shoulders, spine, hips. Kneeling slow, up inner thighs. Brushed her ass cheeks. She shivered. Turned her soft. Face first: cheeks, lips parting under fingers. Neck, collarbone. Breasts heavy, nipples hardening like pebbles. Right one in hand, mouth on it. Suckled. Her moan—tiny, electric. Heart hammered. This was real. Forbidden.

She trembled as I kissed lower. Belly quivering. Navel tongue-flick. Pivoted her to the bed. Sat her down. Legs spread wide, invitation raw. Dove in. Heat hit first—wet, musky pussy lips blooming. Tongue on clit, circling clumsy at first. Excited fumbles. She bucked. Finger inside, slick walls clenching. Trailed back to her tight rosebud. She tensed. ‘Trust,’ I murmured. Relaxed. Licked her clit harder, finger teasing entrance. No push. She arched, cried out. Came hard, juices flooding my mouth. Body shaking like first time ever.

The Instant

Foulard off her eyes. She sat up, tailleur, pulled my face to hers. Deep kiss, tasting herself. Finger to my lips—shh. Peeled my shirt, shorts, boxers. Pushed me back. Tied the scarf over my eyes. Blind now. Her mouth trailed down—neck bites, chest nibbles, belly. Then… warm lips on my throbbing cockhead. Slow suck, velvet tongue. Veins pulsing. Too close. She mounted, wet heat hovering. Slid down slow. Fuck. Tight, dripping grip. But I flipped her. ‘Not yet.’ Eyes free. More kisses. Clit again. She shattered louder, thighs crushing my head.

Wanted in. She flipped doggy. Ass up, pussy glistening, rosebud winking. Tongue there first, rimming gentle. Finger tease. No entry—she hated it. Cock nudged her slit. Thrust deep. Slow builds to frenzy. Her walls milked. No anal, just pure, pounding connection. Climax hit together—roars muffled in sheets. Spent, collapsed.

After, garden work. Marc home, clueless. Acted normal. Two years gone. Wife oblivious. Never again. But eyes meet? That spark. Innocence cracked forever. Heart still races remembering.