Snippets of an affair ~ First Fantasy

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (4/?) ~ First Fantasy Author: zahra_owens Beta: iona_lewis Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 1470 Warnings: Beware of boy-loving, guy on guy, and what's more, they're cheating on their boyfriends. Also, in this chapter, less than perfect relationships. Disclaimer: Persons and events described here may, on the surface, seem familiar, but I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Author's note 1: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter may not be the 'I' from the previous chapter Author's note 2: My dearest Spanish little sister saura_ is celebrating her birthday today. I hope you have a lovely day, darling!

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I can’t sleep.

Whenever I close my eyes, you’re there and it’s slowly becoming an obsession. I haven’t had wet dreams since I was a teenager, but they’re back with a vengeance. The first few times, I enjoyed them, only this morning, fear takes the upper hand. We have a wedding reception to go to and it will be the same crowd as last time, meaning there’s a chance I’ll bump into you.

I don’t know what I fear the most. That you’ll just casually ignore the fact you fucked me in the back of the pub or that you’ll acknowledge it by flirting with me in the presence of my lover.


I look at him lying next to me, my lover of fifteen years, and I wonder how come we’re still together. The first five years, give or take a few, were pretty good, but the last ten we just sort of lived together out of convenience. Because we were too lazy to move out or too set in our ways to go back out there and find someone else. I suppose I loved him in the beginning, but now he sort of leaves me cold. The elated feeling of wanting to be with him and share things has eroded over the years and now there's nothing left. I won’t say I am always easy to live with but at least I try to respect him. He feels no such need. I stopped counting the times he didn’t show up in time for dinner without calling and I stopped looking out for him whenever we agreed to meet up somewhere we were both supposed to be. He more than once made me feel like the jilted partner with his apologies and gifts and promises of candle-light dinners he never kept.


So why do I stay then?

I realise I'm running out of reasons to remain in this relationship.

Then again, who says that someone else will make a better partner? You're a flirt and clearly not averse to casual sex. The last thing I could expect from you is monogamy, fidelity, yet that is what I want in a relationship. Am I naive to expect to find a partner for life where mutual respect and unconditional love is a given? Maybe I'm just a romantic?

As I close my eyes, trying to relax, your image forms again. I haven't seen you naked, but my imagination can easily create a picture from what little I saw and felt that night in the pub toilets. My hands itch to feel your hard body again, touch that stomach with its nicely defined muscles. You're lean though, almost skinny if it weren't for the obvious proof that you work at keeping your body looking good.

My hands recall stroking your soft skin. It almost felt like that of a woman, satiny and practically hairless, save an enticing line that pointed right to a dark mop of curls encircling a perfectly balanced cock that seemed made to fit in my hand. I remember our kisses, wet and sloppy, but also incredibly passionate, passion I hadn't felt for anything or anyone in so long. That passion couldn't distract me from the sensation of feeling your erection fill up and become hard in my hand. I couldn't help feeling proud that the heat rose so quickly between us. The fact that you were exactly the right height for me to be able to grind my own swollen manhood against your hip, made me putty in your hands and I didn't even question your unspoken suggestion that I bottom. I'd forgotten what it felt like, to be pushed against a hard surface and ruthlessly fucked, to be invaded, taken and I realise I crave to feel that again. I roll sideways against the warm body in my bed and although he smells so different from you, I still want the rush, I crave to feel needed by another. I know he won't fuck me, never has in fifteen years. He's always expected me to be the instigator and has never wanted more than to be a passive bottom, but right now, I'm content with that. I have my fantasy and that will surely satisfy me to some degree, so I push myself against his back and grind my erection against his arse. He moans as he awakens. It's not a moan of passion, more of disgruntlement, but I don't care. He opens his legs slightly and I slide my cock between them and as I grind between his closed legs I know I won't last long. I imagine it's you , that you are versatile enough to let me slide inside your body the way you pushed yourself into mine. As I reach round and feel his flaccid cock, my fantasy wavers slightly, but I soon get back on track, imagining what you look like as I thrust into your tight channel and you writhe with ecstasy under my hands.

It only takes me a few powerful thrusts to come between his legs and he sighs. "At least get me off as well?" he asks, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. He's half hard now and although I'm fairly sure he wants me to blow him, I don't want to move just yet, so I simply tug at his cock a few times. He sighs again and swats my hand away after which I hear him start to wank. My mind drifts off again and the moans I hear are now coming from you. You're leaning over me, naked as the day you were born, looking at me with those big brown eyes, and seductively flashing those long eyelashes. Your hand is on your cock and you're painting wet streaks over my stomach with your glistening erection. From time to time you let it spring back against your own stomach and then you take it in your hand again to hit it against my belly. Eventually you throw your head back while you're frantically wanking and you groan loudly as you come, splattering thick creamy strands all over my chest and stomach.

An annoyed, "Fuck you better change the sheets because I'm not crawling back into them tonight," brings me back to my senses. I open my eyes and see him crawling out of the bed, his cock still half hard and wiping his hand on his thigh as he walks into the bathroom. A few seconds later I hear the shower being turned on amongst muttered curses and I look at my surroundings. As I stick my hand underneath the sheet I'm glad that I'm covered up because I'm hard again. Christ, what is happening to me? I haven't been this horny since college, haven't bottomed in just as long, until last weekend that is, and now I'm almost looking forward to this afternoon. A part of me doesn't want to see you again, doesn't want the fantasy to be held up to the light of reality, only to find that it was so much better when it was only in my mind. On the other hand, I want you right now, need you and if it's another one-night-stand than so be it.

Will I have the guts to come on to you? Will I be able to conquer my natural shyness?

I see him walk out of the shower and into the walk-in closet and I manage to sneak into the bathroom without him seeing my erection. The heat of the water under the shower feels great and I enjoy wiping the stickiness and sweat of our cold sex off my skin. Standing under the spray with my eyes closed, you appear again. For years the shower was my favourite place for a morning wank but never before have my hands travelled where I know they're going now. I don't have to pretend too hard to imagine that they're your fingers breaching the tight ring of muscle guarding my entrance, fucking me until I'm open and relaxed. It doesn't take a big stretch to fantasize that it's your hand pumping my erection until I come, violently pushing into my own fist in a series of uncontrollable thrusts, so powerful that when it's over I slump down and watch the water wash away the evidence of my obsession.

An hour later I walk into the wedding chapel in my morning suit. I'm alone as usual, since he 'needed to take care of some business' on the way over there and 'would see me there'. I'm only just in time and, as if something alerted you to my presence, you look over your shoulder and our eyes meet. When you flash your broad smile at me, I hope he doesn't bother showing up at all today.

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