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Cave Creek Adult Dating Story
After a night on the town to nurse the wound of a failed relationship, a drunken Renaud and his long-time friend and former lover, Anne, head to her place to crash.
A Spell of Temptation
Renaud and Anne stumbled through the door, a collection of limbs and nightclubbing gear surrounded by a cloud of laughter and occassional snorting from Anne -- a topic of repeated kidding. Any semblance of coordination had been long lost to the earlier indulgence in alcohol. Anne being somewhat better off than the other, she kicked the door closed behind them and did her best to help her drunk friend through the foyer of her New York apartment. One arm around her shoulders, the slightly taller man moved mostly under his own power, only occassionally leaning against his friend of nine years. He was wearing one of his grey business suits, a black and gold silk tie having been removed and tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. His unbuttoned collar lacked the haggard aura which other drunks might carry with it. A strong sense of presence travelled with the dusky gentleman. In fact, this was the first time Anne had ever seen him so wasted; yet, she understood the reason. Earlier that day, he had shared with her the news of his break with a long time girlfriend.
There was a devastation lurking under the surface of his light brown eyes as he discussed the events leading up to that rending moment. Yet, he would never reveal such a condition externally. Anne knew this from the years during which she knew him more intimately. As lovers, they had known more about one another than anyone else would ever know of the two. So much so that her own heart ached at his recounting earlier that day, possibly even more so than when they had parted four years ago. Perhaps the latter element was a factor of youth paired with the inability to cherish or ignorance of treasures right before one's nose. Back then, she had wanted -- no, needed -- to experience more of life and did not feel he would understand. Instead of discussing the matter, she had disappeared. It was only after three years of experience elsewhere that she realized what she had lost and had contacted him again. In a swift moment, she was drawn back into the warmth of his presence. A pleading apology welled from her, its suffering pouring across the phone line like a river swelling over its banks. Something so uncharacteristic for Anne, as she always viewed herself as the stronger one in all of her relationships. There was a horribly patient wisdom in Renaud's voice when he replied that there was no offense taken to justify such an apology. He added that he was just glad she was still among the living and gracing the world with her radiance.
It was that simple; a beloved friend had returned. It was the focus on the term friend which tugged at the edges of her heart. Renaud had found someone else during her absence. Although she had tried to cope with this, the faint -- yet, ominously prophetic -- voice in her head had claimed that he was the one for her. Notions of stalking cast aside, she decided that time would tell. Several failed relationships later, she was tonight with a man she knew was her one. All of this a brief surge of memory as she helped Renaud sit down in an oversized chair facing the breathtaking city view framed by a wall of windows. The New York night remained its own creature, stirring with an unnatural vibrancy outside. A fading chuckle brought her fully back to the present as Renaud turned towards her. The way he looked into her eyes, she felt as though he too were looking back through time. If only she could know for certain what his thoughts were. A few feet away, Renaud sat, admiring his friend's form in the dimly lit room. From his position, he could just barely make out her face, the light from the foyer silhouetting her full form. Long locks of hair cascaded over her ivory skin, framing a beautiful face with exotic eyes and generous lips. Anne wore a black mini-dress which spoke of a confident and sexy attitude. It revealed the twin swells of her delectable bosom, a moderate amount of exposed cleavage accenting their considerable size. Renaud could tell from earlier that she was not wearing a bra, the fact made evident as she danced with him earlier. Her form tapered slightly as it moved across her flat belly, flaring again with her hips. He could not help but remember how well those hips fit in his hands. Her dress ended mid-thigh, an appropriate compliment to her gorgeous, bare legs. Her outfit was completed by a pair of strapped heels with the leather straps winding upwards, stopping around mid-shin. He bit his lower lip as a thought creeped quickly into his head: I wonder if she's wearing underwear. His wicked smile obscured in the half-light, the accompanying chuckle was still noticable.
"What?" she asked, her voice a mock tone of sulking.
"Just thinking." He tried not to think of her pouting, full lips.
Her heart fluttered, almost rising up her throat. Hands on her hips, she appeared a formidable figure; yet, the smile which spread on her face banished any notion of resistance.
"About...?" she led, hopefullness an almost tangible road leading between them.
"Just about how funny we are..." he mused.
Waiting a moment for him to continue, Anne realized that he wasn't going to get into it. More as nervous filler than a desire to become more wasted, she asked, "Would you like anything else to drink?"
"Oh no...I think I've done enough damage for one night," he replied, flashing her his most convincing smile.
Turning back towards the window, he yawned before resting his shaved head on the chair's headrest. Anne stood for a moment, at first looking over the city and then back at Renaud.
"How about some orange juice? Vitamin C is prime for hangover control."
"Sounds good to me..." he mumbled, eyes closed.
She walked to the kitchen, retrieving a small glass from the cabinet and filling it half-way with some orange juice. On her return, she walked over to the chair in which he was sitting.
"Here you go."
Anne paused when Renaud did not respond. Leaning closer, she heard the deep, rythmic breathing of her friend. She let out a dissappointed sigh and placed the glass of orange juice on a nearby coffee table. Staring at Renaud once more, she decided she might as well let him stay there overnight. A nearby sofa was actually a sofabed, so she opened the unit with its pre-layed linen and went to her bedroom to find him a pillow. While there, she removed her shoes and her dress, preparing to put on bed clothes. Standing naked in her closet, she thought of how silly she felt having taken off her panties at the last minute before leaving for her night out with Renaud. She had wanted him something fierce, though. She wanted him in ways which dwarfed the most intense need she had ever felt. She wondered if he knew that all he needed to do was ask and she would be his forever. Sighing even more deeply, she quickly threw on a knee-length nightshirt, retrieved the pillow for Renaud, and returned to her living room. The bed arranged, she gathered her friend up and half-lifted, half-dragged him to the sofa bed. He flopped on his back onto the sofabed without any indication of disturbance. Remembering that Renaud had liked to sleep in his underwear when they were together, she began undressing him. She felt herself becoming more turned on as she removed his shoes, socks, suit jacket, belt, and then suit pants. He had always preferred undressing her, but an almost self-conscious or anxious mood arose from him whenever she had asked or tried to undress him. Now, she was able to live out that desire although it wouldn't end as she preferred. On removing his white dress shirt and the plain white t-shirt he wore beneath it, she took a moment to step back and admire his body. All he wore now was a pair of dark gray silk boxers which fit loosely around him. She could smell the musky scent of a light sweat on him mixed with his natural manly odor. She had always thought that he smelled delicious. That was the only way she could describe it. She suddenly remembered moments of primal intensity when she had needed to have him in her mouth; how his wonderous maleness enfolded her through his taste, texture, and smell. She remembered how she lived in those moments, seeking to appease Renaud completely, needing to give him pleasure until he could no longer resist her and became hers entirely. She was brought back to a moment from earlier that night at the club which they went to party. One of Renaud's complaints about his ex-girlfriend had been her reluctance to perform oral sex. One statement in particular had captured her attention: "I mean, going to no head at all from having the most magnificent..." He had stopped short, a look of embarrassment crossing his features before he recovered and asked for another round of drinks for them. The comment had been processed, though. She had been thinking of giving him head all night long. Snapping back out of the past, she caught herself licking her lips as she stared at his silk covered crotch.
"I really shouldn't..." she murmured as she gently layed his head onto the pillow and pulled the covers over his body. She bid him good night with a kiss on the cheek.
She grabbed the glass of orange juice on her way back to her bedroom, drinking it as she sat on the side of her bed. Smiling to herself, she stretched out on her bed and went to sleep. She awoke in the middle of the night, having emerged from one of the most erotic dreams she had ever experienced. Needless to say, it involved what would have happened had Renaud not passed out in her living room. Parched, and yet horribly wet, she decided to go to the kitchen for some water. Passing Renaud, she noted that he was still out, but had apparently shifted about in his sleep, throwing off some of the covers. She decided to check on him when she went back to her bedroom. Grabbing a glass in the kitchen, Anne dispensed some filtered water from her refridgerator's inset fountain and downed it quickly. She then returned to the living room to make sure her guest was still comfortable. Renaud was still mostly on his back, one leg now thrust from beneath the covers. Anne reached down to readjust the linens, somewhat startled when she accidentally brushed the warm length of his erect manhood which protruded from the opening in his boxer shorts.
"Oh my," she whispered, the back of her hand remaining in contact with his rigid length. She realized that the warmth of it was too inviting when she shifted to hold Renaud's sex by its root. She found herself breathing heavily as she felt him twitch beneath her fingers, the patch of hair covering that region of his pubis pressed against her pinky. While she knew she should be amazed that he was hard when this drunk, she did not find it that much a surprise. He had always had amazing staying power, often being able to come multiple times without losing his hardness.
She quietly asked, "Renauld, are you awake?" There was no response other than his continued deep breathing. Anne eased his exposed leg a big further over and knelt on the sofabed in front of her prone friend. She paused for a moment and then pushed the covers further away from his rampant length. Resuming her hold on the base of his cock, she slowly administered a single, long stroke, her eyes watching for any sign of a response. Renaud remained unresponsive. Licking her lips, Anne mumbled, "I can't just leave you like this...it wouldn't be very hostess-like of me." Rearranging herself on the sofabed so that she was laying between his thighs, she continued stroking his manhood. She loved the feel of his cock against her hand, the hard -- and yet soft -- length warm and vulnerable in her grasp. She looked up at his face again, whispering, "Renaud?" Still no response, although there was a slightly heavier breathing issuing from him. Looking back down at his cock, she noted the shiny head of his length, so hard it looked as though it would burst. She surprised herself with the extreme intensity of wanting exactly just that, for the warm sex in her hand to give her the delicious cum she had desired all evening. Almost as if on cue, a single drop of precum issued from the tip of Renaud's cock. Anne bit her lip to contain a moan as she continued to stroke his rigid shaft. This temptation could not be resisted, though. She lowered her head closer to his twitching shaft head, her tongue slowly snaking out from her mouth, the flat of it lapping across the tip of his cock in one fluid lick. She closed her eyes in ecstacy as the solitary drop of his essence was gathered up on her offered tongue. She quickly drew it into her mouth, savoring his telltale flavor. It was then that she realized she had to take this through to its delicious end.
Still stroking Renaud's shaft, Anne lowered her head once again. This time her tongue began to lap at the exposed portion of his shaft whenever her working hand allowed it. As she did this, she once again looked up to see if Renaud had awakened. He was still out of it, only now a moan would issue from his lips occassionally. He must be having a wonderful dream, Anne thought as she continued sliding the flat of her tongue against Renaud's length. Might as well give him the best dream he's had in a while, she thought as she let her tongue slide to the underside of his cock head and began to flick in earnest against that especially sensitive area. Renaud's cock seemed to grow even thicker and longer with this effort and another bead of precum eased from the tip. Unable to restrain herself further, Anne quickly engulfed the head of his manhood in her mouth, her full lips wrapping around the shaft just below the head as her tongue swirled around madly and her hand continued to stroke the length remaining outside. Renaud's cock was now twitching more often and she knew from experience that this meant he was receiving a great amount of pleasure from her. She concentrated on pressing her tongue firmly against the underside of his cock head as she began to bob her head on his length. Anne timed it so that each delicate -- and yet firm -- pull of her hand on his length coincided with a downward slide of her tongue. From experience she knew that this was the quickest way to get what she wanted. Renaud had begun to shift in his sleep, the pleasure building. Anne used her free hand to hold the side of his hips steady as she continued to administer her oral massage. She wasn't about to let him rob her of her well deserved treat; she began to alternate between removing his cock from her mouth to masturbate him against her flicking tongue and engulfing the head of his sex as she continued stroking his shaft.
Renaud's thighs had begun to tense up, encouraging Anne to redouble her efforts. Her entire universe contracted down to giving him the maximum amount of pleasure of which she was capable. The sensation of cool air reaching the naked juncture of her thighs beneath her nightshirt revealed considerable wetness building there, much more so than from her sweet dream earlier. Anne knew that there would be time to satisfy that need once her driving need was resolved. All she needed was to feel his seed spurting onto her working tongue, into her waiting mouth, down her swallowing throat. She closed her eyes tightly as she continued to suck on Renaud's cock, milking it, urging it, begging it to give her what she wanted. Finally, she felt the extra stiffening of his length, that last unconcious effort to hold back. Anne's tongue pushed him over the edge, Renaud's balls contracting that extra notch as they prepared to give up their contents to Anne's magnificent effort. She grasped the base of his cock even tighter as her tongue continued to milk the head of his sex. Renaud issued a loud moan. Sure enough, she felt the quiver at the base as the cum began its path upwards. Anne positioned the head of his cock against the center of her tongue, continuing to stroke it as her lips clamped down around the rim of his cock head. Then triumph as squirt after squirt of Renaud's essence splashed into her mouth, onto her waiting tongue, and down her throat as she swallowed again and again. Each pulse of his cock poured liberal amounts of his cum into her sucking mouth, gushing onto her tongue as her working throat continued to swallow his tribute. Between her milking hand, clasping lips, working tongue, and swallowing throat she drained a liberal amount of his essence in what seemed like an eternity of bliss to her, but which was really only a matter of seconds. Trying to urge even more cum out of him, she continued to nurse the imprisoned length within her mouth until she was certain that he was drained. Opening her eyes and raising her head at last, she once again looked at Renaud's face. Amazingly enough, he was still out; yet, she detected a contentment in his expression which made her even happier.
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