Old Friends
by: [kinky cyber goddess]
We had been attracted to each other when we first met, but that was years ago. We were friends, no more.
We were coming back from a short overnight trip to the hot springs. A third friend was driving, content to let us smoke in the back seat, so long as the windows got opened when we were done. The late hour got to me fast, the springs had been relaxing, I was tired. It was a heavy sweetness, the kind that only comes during summer days when you know you have no duties or obligations the next morning. I laid down, head in his lap. I could hear the drone of the music mingling with the roar of the open windows, the warm air of the desert evening created a perfect temperature in the car. His own gaze was fixed out the window, gazing at the great amount of nothing around us.
His hand absently drifted, landing on my head and begining to massage it. This was nothing new, we were on vacation out of massage college, so giving each other massages was the everyday occurence. My own hands reached up to repay the favor, rolling my fingers through his short hair. The sun was low, the moments when the sky is only green and blue, all traces of color vanishing from the sky. Our hands began drifting to each others faces, rubbing, then brushing lightly and tickling.
His fingers drifted lazily over my skin, my arms, my neck, skipping over my breasts to my stomach then back again. my movements mirrored his from where I lay. His eyes were closed, his head back, lips moving in sync with the too-loud music.
We got to my house, we both pried ourselves wearily from the back seat to stagger to my room. Our friend never thought twice about him following me inside, we spent the night at other peoples houses all the time. She had spent the night at mine, at his, and so had he and I. She drove off, still oblivious to anything but the still-too-loud music. When we got inside though, we collapsed onto my bed, lazily still tickling each other. His fingers slowly drifted over me, eventually lifting my shirt to my breasts as his hands wondered over my stomach. He gently rolled me over, kneading my back with his hands. I moaned softly, realizing how tense I had been. He gently removes my shirt to access my back without hinderance. His fingers dance over my spine, up and down, my body sinking into the comfort of the bed. His hands pause over my bra for a moment, both hands coming together to gently undo it. I feel his breath upon my back, the brush of his kiss on my neck. I roll over partly, he kisses my cheek, then my lips. He lifts me to him, kissing me again, his tongue slipping between my lips. His hands drift down to my breasts, cupping them before squeezing them softly, thumbs circling my hardened nipples. His mouth drifts down, sucking each one. My back arches, pressing my breasts to him as I whimper. His tongue flicks over them, circling them before his lips close around them. He gently nibbles them, pulling away to kiss me again.
Will these old friends renew their relationship?
Or will sleep over take them?
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