Ashley and Me Ch. 01
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Ashley and me
On my waking that morning I felt like something was in the air, some change. Anything felt possible and prone to happen. I was due to visit my friend Tracy later, around 3pm, and felt a tingle of apprehension: she was married now and ‘off limits’ but there had always been a mutual attraction… her physical attributes, the perfect visual balance of curvy-yet-slim, her alluring large, slightly droopy, pendulous chest. It was such a chest, such a joy. I couldn’t believe I would see her again after some ten years, couldn’t quite register how hot she would look now and couldn’t imagine any disappointment, why would there be? Why we were never an item was down to pure pride (or, equally, stupidity) on my part as we had been work colleagues and it had been against my personal principles to date anyone from work.
I shook my head and inwardly cringed at the thought of it now. Slurped some coffee, got dressed and hurried about trying to think a few steps ahead, had to look good for her but had an errand to run first, had to call over to Jodie and Ashley’s. Ashley had a computer issue and had called the night before asking me to consult. I agreed. I liked them as a couple immensely, we’d shared some great times. I also harboured more than a sneaking admiration for J’s perfect ass and loved the thought of some discrete ogling if she was in… she sometimes worked nights in her capacity as a nurse. Honey-blonde 29-year-old J (I always called her ‘J’, even when she called up) emerging sleepily after her night shift from the bedroom was a distinct possibility and what a lovely one it was, conjuring images of her smudged bedroom eyes, hastily thrown-on silk robe and bare feet. The robe was such a tease, such a lottery: was she wearing underwear today and if so, what? I would piece it together via a series of furtive glances: thong? Basque? Bare ass? Bra? Large, full tits loose? On the rare occasion I had seen her in her robe-after long nights out or, communally, in front of the tv sipping beer in the wee hours-it was delicious in the utmost as her form possessed such a subtle, wobbling sensuality that I was often sent home with more than enough smouldering mental stimuli to fire many hours alone. I was sure Ashley was aware as well and proud of her. Somehow this was cool too. I smiled as her grabbed my keys: if Tracy was, say, separated from her husband or could be persuaded to be, I would enjoy nothing more than showing HER off for Ashley’s contemplation, perhaps even encourage her to showcase her assets for his discerning eye.
This was some day, even at this early stage. The possibilities were endless and even if nothing came of it, I was sure I would be returning home with much to think about. Perhaps a changed man.
– – –
Ashley had welcomed me into their warm, woody, comfortable apartment, a place I knew quite well and had always admired for it’s good feel and balance of the homely with the uncluttered. Late morning shafts and dapples of light came from large windows framed by pots, jars and indoor plants and also refracted from large ornamental bottles of different hues. Even the sudsy washing up that Ashley had been completing when I arrived threw gentle dancing glimmers onto the ceiling. It was the type of place that you could imagine chatting for hours, vaguely aware that shadows were lengthening and night-or indeed dawn- was approaching, your only ankara türbanlı escort task being a barefoot stroll across nicely-worn rugs and wooden floors to the toilet or to the refrigerator for another beer. As I took off my coat and draped it on the sofa I considered that it really had to be this comfortable as both Ashley and J co-existed in a sort of unmutual harmony, what with each other’s irregular working hours. I imagined J was at this moment cocooned in their cosy, dark bedroom, this morning hour the equivalent of midnight for her.
Ashley smiled and handed me a coffee which I gratefully accepted, the aroma having pervaded my being as soon as I had entered and slipped off my shoes in the hall. It was always good, fresh and strong, something he insisted on as did I and something which endeared him to me as really was a rare trait amongst friends and colleagues, that insistence that certain necessities of life such as coffee and beer be strong and most of all effective. I had often considered that if this is achieved then the likelihood of falling into ‘life traps’ such as alcoholism or substance dependency was lessened. Certainly many that had fallen prey to drugs, for example, usually made lousy coffee. As I took a sip and felt the surge of the caffeine strike deep inside I felt a delicious tingle at the same time… could I really be meeting Tracy later today? Tracy who was, amazingly, married? How could this be? Why would she allow it? A sense of delicious irresponsibility filled me as I playfully considered that here, right now, I was still ‘pure’ so to speak. Nothing had yet happened. But we would see how I felt this time tomorrow.
In the meantime I looked at Ashley’s computer issue, now acutely obvious in front of me: a laptop with all the correct lights on and happily blinking… but a with blank screen. As we chatted about battery types and peered at the rear of the machine I couldn’t help but realise how similar we were. We were both absorbed in the same issues and taking the same routes to find similar solutions. In itself this was great but unfortunately meant that we were not any closer to a solution except to have it serviced. And speaking of ‘close’, I couldn’t help but be aware that Ashley smelled great. It wasn’t a masculine scent as such and my mind was cast back to a female friend who would apply male cologne as she insisted that it created the right ‘mix’ on her, as it certainly did. It just worked, was very sexy and what’s more I was reminded of her any time he smelled the scent, something which I suspected wouldn’t be the case with a standard female perfume.
Then, something quite innocently occured to me, a possibility.
Something was stirring. My mouth was suddenly dry. The clock ticked away in the otherwise quiet room. I imagined… something. A something. With Ashley. Yes, there was something new. The excitement stemmed from the fact it was so unforeseen. Or that it seemed suddenly attainable, Well, possibly, previously. Then there was the matter of, what was the word I needed? The ‘filter’. Of J, her proximity, her foxy nature: it sort of coloured my appreciation of Ashley, “rose-coloured glasses”. Even the additional proximity-in terms of hours-of Tracy. I hadn’t felt this way before, really, and didn’t think I was gay or even bi. I wondered if, if the variables or filters were taken away, would ankara ukraynalı escort I…
I almost blushed. I was going to say to myself ‘Would I still fancy Ashley?’. Wow. I couldn’t believe it, even the phrase, that it was available, there to be used… that was new. New is good. I had this new way of looking, and even enjoyed using the word “fancy”, it was a real shock but not unwelcome.
‘Ashley, if you don’t mind me asking,’ he paused, smiled; ‘What is that lovely scent you have?’
Ashley smiled. ‘It’s something of J’s.’ He looked. I detected something akin to my own tingling state.
I shifted closer to him on the sofa, something in itself which was a statement, and highly, hugely arousing. There was no turning back. I felt so filled with pleasure, so fresh… it must have been adrenalin.
‘Can I smell?’ Pointless query, but added to the growing sense of anticipation, if only to impart to him how dry my throat was from excitement. It was just a whisper. Now I hovered my face a centimetre from the back of his neck, his light brown hair. So many familiarities, some my own, being male. Reminded me of senior school. There was a person called Paul, had crush on him at 18, never could say and I simply put it down to raging hormones. But there were definitely pleasures to be explored, familiar ground to be uncovered that were simply unattainable from a girl, I knew that even then. That was how simple it seemed, no hang ups or issues… it never happened but I often wondered what it would have been like to play with him, feel him, to be lying naked together. He regretted never trying it or taking the chance.
Ashley and this situation felt like that. ‘Felt’ had a double meaning now as I acted as if I had to steady myself by turning an arm around his torso, gently steadying him to me, my hand on his far side, his nipple in reach of my thumb… something I hadn’t considered as I loved my nipple to be brushed, licked, loved hearing the small noise of a woman’s tongue-tip on it, sometimes unbearable, better stimulation that the tip of my cock. Hands-down actually when it came to receiving head. It was somehow more illicit, more refined, magnified somehow.
I smelt him, nuzzled behind his ear, increased the pressure slightly on his side but not too much. He felt good. In response, his hand now rode up my outer thigh, drawing me in firmly. My instinct was to tongue his earlobe, test the water. Then we simply found the moment and faced each other with half-open eyes, tilted, mouths brushed, sense the unfamiliarity of his small amount of stubble and I quickly congratulated myself on my deviousness regarding Tracy: I had thoroughly brushed, flossed and intensively mouthwashed, wanted to taste nice, the possibility of kissing her a positive goal I had set myself despite her marital status. I had even applied cologne, something I was never so good at. In short, I smelt and tasted good too. Ashley seemed to think so as our lips parted, mouths joined, wide open, feeling for the tongue of each other, wondering if I would taste an essence of J as well somehow. My thumb now ventured, brushed and found his hard nipple under the soft fabric of his t-shirt and I was able to apply exactly the right amount of pressure… it was easy as I knew what I would like, I knew he would love it and indeed heard, or at least felt, the low murmer ulus escort from the back of his throat as we continued kissing. His hand now firmly moved across from my thigh and, blissfully as was such a statement of mutual assent (if any was needed) pressed down on my achingly hard cock, inquisitively feeling it through my jeans, his middle and index finger tracing underneath, pressing back up between, cupping as his thumb sought the underside of my cockshaft. I was so happy I was not wearing underwear, knowing Ashley would be able to make purchase, to feel everything he wanted. I now happily reflected on the fact that I could reciprocate, could look forward to exploring his cock in a similar fashion. Pre-cum now oozed from the tip and I felt an urge that was hasty and unhurried all at once. Maybe the room and time of day had something to do with it, so relaxed and languid. I fancied I could hear J breathing steadily in bed which, when mixed with our sounds, added a delicious feminine tincture.
Ashley now gently withdrew his mouth so he could gaze down, marvel at the explicit outline of my penis. His gaze travelled up and with dextrous fingers he unbuttoned my shirt… two, three buttons. He drew it aside towards him. I aided by pulling the side of my singlet back.
‘Mmm. J does this for me. See how you like it.’
And now he lowered his head, breathing hot on my nipple. Unbearable. He set to work flicking, licking and gently sucking it, obviously having studied a woman’s technique. My nipple was moist and hard and he now swirled his tongue further around it somehow implying that his scope and intention were not limited. As I stroked his hair I almost prayed that it was the case. Finally his hand moved down and, between us, my belt was unbuckled, the button of my jeans undone. He very carefully unzipped me, mindful that I was naked underneath. I stiffened my back, linked one thumb to pull my trousers down a notch. He gazed at my mostly-shaven cock. I tried to feel some form of self-consciousness considering J was in bed and that this was all so new, probably as much to prolong the excitement, the illicit nature. But the fact that my cock was on show, inches from another man’s face, the fact that he now gently stroked my heavy balls… the fact that he now lowered himself to kiss and lick away my pre-cum, to lick and lap under the undertip of my pulsing cockhead, to then lithely slaver his tongue down and up the shaft in a way which only another man could know. And to finally open his mouth and to engulf the swollen head…
As he sucked my cock, his mouth so intuitive, so warm, his low pleasure sounds, his head moving up and down, his hand ticking and stroking my balls my thoughts flitted from one visual to another… the fact that Ashley, J’s man, was giving me head was amazing enough, but to be doing it here, near J herself as she slept… I glanced over to a radiator where some of their ‘smalls’, underwear and such had been drying overnight. There were some of J’s panties and thongs, a mixture of pinks, fleshtones and whites, itself a massive trip. In my mind’s eye, the camera was shooting at a level a foot from the ground, J crouching on the floor in front of me, a sheer pink thong riding high up her crack, her demure honey blonde hair just above her shoulderblades, head tilted as she licked my balls and underneath, her man still giving me head… then flitting to me wearing some of J’s gear, wanting to ‘be’ J for him, be competitive… now drifting off to Tracy’s form, she blonde as well, a different type of blonde, less honey, cooler, ash-blonde… dressing her in my mind, perhaps blue or black underwear, large pale breasts, olive complexion…
A floorboard behind us creaked.
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