We are standing in the middle of the study floor. My right hand is down her pants. Her right hand is down mine. God only knows how much time we have. The house is full of people, my wife especially.
My left hand is behind her head and her left hand is behind mine, pulling our faces into each other, crushing lip against lip against teeth, mouths open, tongues incessant.
The combination of sensations is almost too much, the exquisite kiss, the urgent tugging on my cock, the wetness and tension of her cunt against my rapidly moving hand, the danger of being caught.
Voices. Voices and footsteps. Voices and footsteps on stairs and our movements become violent in their rapidity. Fingers flying, tongues thrashing.
I am closer. She is closer. The people on the stairs are closer.
Voices. Voices in my head, calling to me from eternity, mouths open now, tongues thrashing in mid-air, her knees weak as she leans into me, gasping into my mouth, her hand on my cock drawing my orgasm out, the seed rising, the unmistakable tread of a foot on the top stair, in the hall.
We cannot possibly stop. I hear my wife's voice talking to our guests, describing the house in all its long, drawn-out detail as I come, spurting and spurting all over her hand, all over the inside of my pants, the voices in my head cheering me on as I feel her tense, and come with me, my violent orgasm, the feel of my come on her hand having pushed her over the edge.
We have just separated when my wife and guests enter the room. My girlfriend is sitting on the couch, looking as nonchalant as possible, trying to hide her ragged breathing. I am standing with my back to them, staring at the bookcase, pretending to try to find a book. Finally I shrug, say, "oh well" and leave the room.
I doubt that anyone is fooled, especially given the way my wife glares at me as I leave the study. At the bottom of the stairs I wait for my girlfriend. She descends toward me her smile radiant. At the bottom we collapse into each other, stifling our laughter at our own insanity.
Sitting here in the study at the computer editing this story I hear the voices in my head again, turn to stare at the spot where we stood, am unable to suppress my laughter. My wife, sitting at the other computer, turns her head and glares at me again.
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