The Dinner Party
I think it’s etiquette to warn somebody that the woman they love will be at your dinner party with their husband.
Or it would be, if the hostess knew. If anybody knew, for that matter.
But they didn’t, so there I was, settled into Holly’s couch across from Jessica and Mark. With her golden hair and radiant smile, she lit up the room. Jessica was gentle and soft, with smooth curves and a sweet smile. The only sounds were sizzling meat and the clanking of pots, coating the silence in an eager buzz. Dinner must have been close to ready.
All of us had met during college in a sort of domino effect. Noah (Holly’s now-husband) and I had been roommates. We met Jessica in freshman biology, who brought her friend Holly to one of our parties, and so on and so forth. We had graduated years ago and were now in that awkward “young professional” phase where nobody really knows what they’re doing, or what they want to be doing. Everything had changed, I suppose, and yet nothing at all. David and I still fucked around like college boys when we got together, and I still loved Jessica.
Jessica excused herself from the room and headed down the hallway, probably to the restroom.
Mark and I just looked at each other. We had never really been friends outside of everyone else. He was a later edition to the group, but had stuck just the same. He made some half-hearted remark about “the game.” I don’t even know which one — or which sport, for that matter.
“David?” Holly chirped, poking her head out of the kitchen. “Would you be so kind as to go find some extra plates? I think there might be some in the pantry. Otherwise, you’ll just have to poke around in the closets upstairs.”
I looked over at Noah and saw that his puzzled expression mirrored mine.
I quietly agreed and pushed off of the couch, heading first for the pantry down the hall and around the corner. I heard rustling as I opened the door.
She had an expression on her face that made me want to kiss her and and run away at the same time.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“Holly needs extra pl-”
Before I knew it, she was kissing me. She tasted like cinnamon and rose, something that was so unbearably hers. I felt her body move against mine, and opened me eyes to see that one of her feet was up on a shelf and her skirt was up around her waist, baring her pussy to my touch. I wondered if Holly knew, if this was all some sort of plan. This thought was quickly interrupted by her teeth gently pulling at my lower lip.
Her hands were in my hair as my fingertips grazed the wetness between her legs, slowly at first and then more urgently as she began to grind against my touch. It all felt like a dream as she reached for the growing hardness in my jeans. I felt her fumble with my belt buckle as I slid my fingers inside of her, so tight and warm. She moaned against my kisses as I pulled out and start rubbing her clit again, and I couldn’t help but shush her. We were still close to the living room. This was stupid. This was so stupid.
That was the last coherent thought I had before she took my cock in her hand and slid me inside of her. Not even years of longing, lusting, and masturbating furiously, could have prepared me for that. She was so perfect. In her eyes I saw all the fire in the world, and I knew that she had wanted this for as long as I had. We moaned against each other’s kisses, against the curve of each other’s necks. I grabbed a shelf above her head for support and tried not to rattle anything as I kept thrusting inside of her.
My other hand found her clit again and I rubbed it in slow circles, feeling her raised leg tremble against me. I lost track of how many times she came. I just couldn’t stop touching her.
I began the feel a familiar tension and knew that I was close to finishing. I looked at her — her tousled blonde hair, her face twisted in ecstasy — and wished that this moment could last forever. I came inside her without a second thought, moaning into her shoulder as I filled her.
As I slowly stopped thrusting, I pressed my forehead against hers and looked down into her eyes. She looked… relieved. After all this time…
I kissed her softly as I buckled my jeans, and walked out without another glance. I leaned against a wall in the hallway, careful not to disturb any of the hanging photographs, and just breathed. How is one supposed to steady themselves after something like that?
I barely even noticed that I was walking back toward the living room. I felt everyone’s eyes on me when I entered the room. Was I blushing? Sweating? Did they know? Did he know?
“So…” said Holly, “did you find the plates?”