Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
The Devil With A Deal:>>Ep16

Tara opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Like a fish, gasping for air. There was a wet, smacking sound and we both turned to see Brian and Vanessa making out next to us, like we weren't even there. Vanessa wrapped her hand around her husband's cock. "Ooo, slippery," she said, excitedly.

I turned back to Tara, and she extended her arm, inviting me to pull her up. As soon as I helped her off the mattress, Brian and Vanessa fell back onto it. The muscular man had already gotten his blonde wife's green dress bunched up around her waist. Her body, like the rest of her, was stunning. For a moment, I felt a wave of regret over what I could have had for myself.

I noticed Tara was also watching the couple wistfully. Brian roughly shoved his cock into Vanessa's pussy and Tara gasped, almost like it was happening to her in that same moment. We both shared a strange, knowing look. I kept my grip on Tara's wrist and slowly pulled her out of the room. Brian and Vanessa didn't even pause as the door clicked behind us.

Tara ripped her hand away from mine as soon as we got into the hallway. I flinched, knowing that I was about to get a very different kind of tongue-lashing from my wife's little sister than the one she'd delivered earlier that evening. After all, what was it my business who she got busy with? Especially after everything else that had happened that night, I had a lot of nerve playing chaperone.

Instead, Tara didn't say a word. She just looked at me, like trying to get her bearings -- remind herself of where she was and how she'd gotten there. I became very aware of the fact that little Tara was stark naked, and my own hard dick was hanging out of my pants. I quickly tucked myself away, like that would make things more appropriate.

I tried to speak to apologize or explain or, I don't know, a hundred things -- but Tara shushed me like a naughty child. Instead, she spun around and headed down the stairs. Her pale ass bounced alluringly as she went. I didn't need to be told to follow; I went right after her like we were magnetized.

As I went, I wondered at why I felt so ashamed. After all, she was the one I'd caught fucking some guy she'd met that night, who was very much not her husband. Wasn't Tara the one who'd been embarrassed by Jesse's behavior? Wasn't she, indirectly, the reason we'd ended up at this porny party in the first place? Kate and I both had worked so hard to protect her, but she ended up doing it, herself, anyway.

And yet, I couldn't exactly feel blameless, either. After all, I'd let Tara suck me off. And I'd watched, worked over in every possible way, while Brian had taken her so completely. Worst of all, I'd let myself be consumed -- not by anger or sadness - - but by the desperate wish that Tara had chosen me, instead.

Tara traipsed down the stairs. It was quieter down here, but not empty. Every few feet, piles of people lay on the floor. Like they'd dropped right where they stood, mid-party. Some of them were slumbering, but others slithered around each other, roiling in uncontrolled lust. I couldn't see very well, it was too dark, but it seemed like many of them, awake or asleep, were mostly naked.

Tara took me from room to room like she'd lived there her whole life, deftly dodging the landmines of writhing bodies. We got to the living room. Here it was almost completely quiet. The TV was on, but it was showing snow. Someone nearby was snoring in a very not sexy way.

We hopped over a couple that looked like they'd passed out mid-fuck and sat down on the surprisingly available couch in the middle of the room. The cushions were hard as rocks and scratchy. I now understood why no one was sleeping there. "Tara, I..."

"I know," the pretty redhead said. There was a bay window behind her, so I could see her surprisingly well. Her freckled skin was bluish in the thin light. "I really was heading home," Tara continued, "But then I passed by that door and... It wasn't what I wanted."

"What do you mean?"

"This is what I wanted," Tara said. She wrapped her skinny, arms around my neck and kissed me hard, on the lips.

Before I could take stock of what was happening, Tara's arms slipped from my neck and her fingers dexterously lifted my sweater over my head. I felt it then -- a pull as strong as undertow. A draw as undeniable as gravity.

I didn't justify or rationalize. I didn't consider at all that I was in someone else's house, breaking my marriage vows with my wife's sister, while my innocent partner slept undisturbed in a nearby bedroom. I didn't think at all. I acted. I let the moment overtake me without flailing or fighting. It washed over me and I willfully, gloriously, drowned.

I'd wanted Tara from the minute I met her. Kate had introduced us early in our relationship and I'd crushed so hard it had nearly cracked me. It wasn't that Tara was pretty (although she was). It had nothing to do with her personality (although I truly enjoyed my time with her). There was something visceral about that woman's hold on me. A chemical reaction that, as soon as I was exposed, left me addicted for life.

And here she was, lips pressed to mine, soaking me in her scent while she rapidly ripped off my clothes. I could no more pull away than I could strip off my own skin.

In seconds, my shirt was off. I reached over to start undoing Tara the same way. But, of course, she was already naked. My rough hands brushed her perky, pink breasts and both of us gasped. I felt Tara's urgency grow.

She moved down to undo my pants. Now both of us were naked on the couch, panting like we were midway through a marathon. We'd only begun to run.

Tara rolled forward and we kissed, sloppy and wet. Somehow it was so much more traitorous than touching each other's most private parts. Physical desire, you could rationalize that. Explain how the human body, made for reproduction, might drive the conscious mind into a marital mistake. But that kiss came straight from the heart. We weren't fooling around after a night of unfulfilled passions and too much alcohol. We liked each other. Our mouths pressed tight, sealing our choice with more than a symbol.

Tara danced her hands down my arms. Through my chest hair. My own digits grasped greedily at her little tits, taut with sharp nipples. So perky they seemed to float on my palms. Like cupping warm, fleshy clouds.

Our tongues wrapped around each other. Saliva slipping like two tributaries into a river of desire. I roiled in the heat of Tara's body as she pressed closer to me. Her nipples tickled at my chest. She wrapped hand back around my butt. Pulled me closer. Drew me in.

I felt the heat of her center drip onto my dick. When did we get this close? How did her legs wrap around my waist? Her red hair hung over me cool and slightly tickling.

With Kate, every choice I made was conscious. Every touch was part of a carefully planned expedition. No movement was initiated without careful consideration.

With Tara it was more like a brawl -- roaring around each other, every progression merely a confluence of our chaotic actions. Lusty and longing. Wild and out of control.

Tara pushed me by the shoulders till my bare back scratched against the stony cushions of the couch. She crawled up my legs. Her eyes bright and hungry. Mouth open. Body covered in pink blotches where she'd been kissed, grabbed, scratched.