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Pillow Stories

The Plan

by Felicity Clearwater

You arrived, as you had twice before, on the train; tall, dark and boyish, with a slow, serious smile playing around your mouth. I, nonchalant, with studied calmness, walked to you slowly. Our kiss was brief, unable to be savoured, with too many conflicting pieces of thought and impression competing to be properly formed in the mind, and spoken from the lips. But I had a plan for you; as innocently I took your hand, and led you away. We caught the bus, laughing about nothing, speaking light-heartedly, but my stomach warmed deep inside and my breathing quickened as I mentally toyed with my plan, as a deeply animated man might toss a stone carelessly from hand to hand as he speaks. You were serious and funny as usual, and as before, protectively shielded me from the dangers of other forceful people confidently taking themselves through their day’s journey. I smiled a tiny smile, knowing that I could not, and would not, protect you from the plan I had devised for you; as a planet, seemingly free in the vastness of space, never moves from the intensity of its orbit, so you would be unable to move from the powerful forces set free in you.

We arrived at my home, and I opened up and flourished us both in. And then I turned towards you, and leaned my body slightly against you, so that you were unbalanced just a fraction; you leaned against the solid wall of my lounge room and moved your hands to propel yourself upright, and I took them with mine and held them down by your side, against the wall. You laughed, but I could hear the nervous catch in your breath when you stopped. I looked into your dark eyes for several moments, unsmiling, as you tried to read my mood, and I saw uncertainty there for the first time. I lightly kissed your lips, almost brushing them, and the tip of my tongue teased gently, almost imperceptibly, in the space between your teeth. At the same time I walked my fingers as softly as a moth might flutter against a dark suit in a wardrobe, down to the slight swelling I could feel against your thigh.

Your eyes closed, expecting more, but I stopped and spoke one word. “Laura”. Your eyes opened in surprise, and I watched them closely, as Laura came from the direction of my bedroom. She was wearing a shimmering summer dress and her feet were bare. Her dark hair was thick and lustrous and she was not smiling. She walked towards us both, and you started.

I turned to her, and she grabbed my hair with one hand, put her wet mouth over mine and kissed and licked my face with hunger so deep it seemed to grow more intense with every second of contact. Her eyes were closed and she was growling softly in her throat. You made some kind of exclamation, an unformed word, and walked away, but we let you go. I put my hand into her dress and felt the softness of the breast and then the surprising firmness of her nipple thrusting into my fingers. We sank to the floor, and I held my body over hers, the wetness in my pants merging with the wetness in hers as we joined our thighs together in a slow throbbing dance.

It took 5 eternal minutes for first hers, and then my body to shudder in the throbs and spasms of powerful climax, and then we flopped over on our backs, shoulders heaving and faces contorted with the pleasure of aftershock.

I looked up, and you were watching us. Your excitement was obvious, your bewilderment profound. Your cock strained underneath the cloth of your pants, and I beckoned you to me. You stood above me. I told you to kneel next to me. You obeyed, silently. Laura smiled at the ceiling, and her rose pink painted nails gently brushed along my tummy, and she lightly ran her index finger across my swollen clit. She watched my face as she continued to caress me there, my wetness on her finger making it gleam like an extended pearl. Her dark hair brushed my face as she moved her mouth on my nipple and took it into her mouth to suck like a child might suck a prune stone, deliberately savouring the hard unexpected object and allowing her tongue to flick and explore every part of this new treasure that responded by growing and tingling as if shocked with electricity.

I turned my face to you, and Laura looked up at me and smiled. She then turned to look at you, and her eyes lowered to your fly, where the bulge demanded immediate release. She nodded at me, and while she continued to caress my clitoris with her amazing fingers, watched me as I slowly released your throbbing member. She then took hold of it firmly, and placed it directly in the centre of my large breasts, which were glistening with her saliva. She put her hands on mine, and we worked at moving my breasts in an almost circular motion around your cock. As she did so, she rubbed her wetness against the side of my thigh and her pleasure was made apparent with soft grunts and a thickness in her voice when she whispered to me “make him come all over your face, and watch how I come”. We got a wonderful rhythm with our hands and your cock was covered in the stickiness of Laura’s saliva, and you groaned one time and shot a stream of white cream which spurted all over my face and my neck. It felt like warm snowdrops falling in an impossible moment on my face, and was somehow beautiful.

Laura wiped your juice into my skin and all over my body, as she and I writhed again on the floor, forgetting you as you recovered your breathing, and she shuddered softly against my thigh almost at the same time as my ecstasy caused me to cry out, with her expert fingers travelling around the moist and swollen flesh that throbbed like a dying thing between my thighs…..and then she and I and you lay on the floor, close but far, far apart in our own thoughts, for endless minutes, saying nothing. Returning to normal.

Laura showered alone, and left without a word. I smiled at you, and asked if you would like tea. I did not need to speak of my plan again. It would never be repeated, Laura and I would never see each other again. You never spoke of it to me. But sometimes, when we moved together, I saw Laura’s smile, as she watched us in our deep, deep pleasure...

©Felicity Clearwater

Reader Comments

Felicity Clearwater has a degree in psychology and a passion for understanding people's "inner lives". She is a baby-boomer who was crazy in the sixties, conservative in the seventies, confused in the eighties/nineties, and liberated in the noughties. She runs a workshop and counselling business in Australia.

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