Gray skies press down on the countryside. She trudges the empty road, coat soaked, light dress clinging like a second skin. No umbrella. Stupid girl. Two hours from home. Rain hammers harder. Cars splash by. Then brakes screech. Passenger door swings open. Bernard’s truck. Village mayor. Her only real friend here, since Jocelyne left.
She bolts in, dripping everywhere. ‘Sorry, ruining your seats.’ He laughs. ‘Get warm at mine. It’s close.’ Minutes later, his hallway. Wooden floor creaks under her wet shoes. He grabs a thick blanket, wraps her tight. His hands linger, gentle. Too gentle. Heart skips.
The Contact
‘Jocelyne?’ she asks, shivering on the chair. He hesitates. Door barely shut. Rain drums the roof. ‘Gone for good. Other guy hates the country.’ She nods, cold biting deeper. ‘Shower’s there. Towels in the cabinet.’ Hallway light filters dim through the half-open bathroom door. She strips, clothes steaming on the radiator. Naked in his space. Pulse races. Trusts him. Or wants more? Door unlatched. Crazy thought.
Hot water cascades. Hands glide over chilled skin, nipples hardening. Pussy throbs. Stops herself. Dries off, wraps towel tight. Mirror fogs. Hair wild. Steps out. Living room glows from fireplace crackle. Parquet groans softly. Two steaming teas wait. Sits too close on the rug. His knee brushes hers.
Words tumble. Loneliness. Husband’s late nights. Another woman, she whispers. Tears fall. His arm around her bare shoulder. Skin electric. ‘Cold?’ No. ‘Hold me.’ Arms enfold. Silence thick. Lips on hair. Fingers circle neck. Heads turn. Eyes lock. Mouths meet. Tongues tangle, hungry. Her fingers pop his shirt buttons. Hand grazes his jean bulge. Hard. Her cunt soaks the towel.
The Indiscretion
She stands. Knot loosens. Towel pools at feet. Naked. His eyes devour her curves, tits heaving. She drops to all fours on the rug. Ass up. ‘Come.’ Parquet creaks as he sheds clothes. Cock thick, veined. Kneels behind. Tongue flicks her slit. ‘No. Fuck me now.’ He presses tip to her dripping folds. She bucks back, impaling deep. Groan escapes.
Thrusts pound. Fire pops. Rain lashes windows. She bites lip. Neighbors’ houses dot the hills—too close? What if old Marie walks by? His hips slap her ass. Wet smacks echo. She loses it. ‘Harder!’ Voice muffled against arm. Cunt clenches. Orgasm rips fast, juices squirting. He grunts, floods her. They collapse, panting.
His hand cups untouched tits now. She licks sweat from his neck. Cock stirs. Tongue swirls his tip, salty cum. Hard again. Straddles him. Guides in. Slow grind. Kisses sloppy. Hips rock. Firelight dances shadows. Parquet shifts under knees. Another peak builds. He throbs inside. They cum together, hushed gasps.
Later, dressed in damp clothes. Hug at door. ‘First time like that…’ She shushes. Steps into night. Rain eased. Road slick. Heart hammers. Truck lights fade. What if husband home early? Or villager spots her flushed walk? House dark. Slips in quiet. Bed cold. Secret burns hot. Fingers stray between thighs. Replay every creak, every thrust. Tomorrow’s village stares? Thrill lingers.