It’s been twenty years since I met Delphine and Marc. Like brother and little sister to me. That first day on the supermarket parking lot, her bag ripped, groceries spilling. I helped. She called later, invited us over. Apéritif turned wild. Too much booze. Marc and I splashing in their inflatable pool, down to boxers. Dragged our wives in. Wet shirts clinging, see-through. Tits outlined, skirts hiking up, thongs flashing. Bonds forged that night.
Two years ago, Saturday morning. Marc calls for garden work. April heat already 22°C at 8 AM. Knock on their door. Delphine answers in a thin robe. Sun pouring through, outlining her curves. Forty, three kids, still fucking stunning. Coffee offered. Marc’s at work emergency, back soon. Kids at grandparents. Just us. She heads to change, bedroom door open. Mirror view: robe slides off. Naked back, ass perfect. She catches my stare. Blushes but doesn’t close. Heart pounds. Pulse races. I stand, drift to the hall. Peek in. She’s nude, facing closet, hunting a shirt. Step closer. Hands on her shoulders. She freezes. No pull away. Ready.
The Fever
Eyes closed, I whisper trust me. Grab silk scarf from shelf. Glide it up her back. Tie gentle over eyes. Hands roam shoulders, down spine, hips. Kneel, up inner thighs. Legs part slight. Brush ass cheeks. Turn her. Face me, arms limp. Fingers trace jaw, lips. Neck. Tits harden, nipples peak. Cup right one, suck. Moan escapes her. Left tit next. Down belly. Tongue navel. Body quivers. Heat builds. Sweat beads.
Pivot her to bed edge. Sit her. She falls back, legs spread wide. Invitation. Kiss navel lower. Pussy lips part easy. Soaked. Hot. Tongue flicks clit. Swirl lips. Finger slides in, drenched. Drag to tight ass pucker. She clenches. Trust, I murmur. Relaxes. Tongue on clit, finger circles rosebud. No push. She bucks. Cries out. Cums hard. Body arches, gush.