It was still light, but dusk was casting long shadows across the room; as the sun fell, the temperature followed suit, so we’d closed the French doors and lit the wood burner, which crackled gently in the background as we chatted. We were occupying either end of the sofa, nursing our third glass of wine each after a supper of quiche and salad.

There was a charge in the air, relaxed but expectant, the sense that we were prolonging the delicious inevitability of…something more. T was sitting sideways, her legs stretched across with her ankles on my knees, and I was semi-absent-mindedly kneading her feet as we chatted. She moaned slightly as I rolled my thumbs under the arches of her feet, popping the bubbles of tension there.

‘Oh my God, where did you learn to do that?” T exclaimed, “It almost hurts, but it’s divine.”

“Believe it or not, I did a foot massage course in Thailand aeons ago. I can’t remember all of the steps, but I have retained most of the principles,” I replied.

“You seem to be a man of many talents. Please don’t stop!” she purred as she took another sip of wine.

“Okey-dokey,” I retorted. I continued my efforts, gently pulling and pressing under the backs of T’s toes before doing the same along and between the bones on the tops of her feet. “The whole massage included working the legs and thighs,” I added, catching her eye, “it can take quite a while.”

“Well, don’t expect me to stand in the way of the wisdom of Thai medicine. I willingly surrender to your expert ministrations,” she chortled while looking me dead in the eye as she stretched her smooth, brown legs slightly further towards me. Her short skirt rose up slightly as she did so, and I could sense, rather than see, ‘the promised land’ between her legs.

I pressed the flesh on either side of T’s shins, digging into the meat firmly but not too hard before reaching underneath to repeat the process with her calves and the backs of her knees. T was nursing her glass on her chest but now had her head tipped back, her eyes closed, and a slight smile on her face. She drew her feet back a little, bending her legs at the knee, and let them drift apart slightly to give me better access to her leg muscles.

This slight change in leg position had the additional benefit of giving me a clear view between T’s legs. True to our rules, she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I could see the top of her shortly-trimmed bush.

“Why have you stopped?” T asked lasciviously, her eyes still closed but her voice thick with suggestion.

I realised I’d been holding my breath, and I exhaled before I replied, “Momentary loss of concentration, I do apologise,” as I continued my ministrations. I pushed my hands past her knees to her thighs, pressing down with the palms of my hands before dragging the tips of my fingers back down them repeatedly. I did this across the tops of her legs before rubbing more gently on the inside, before moving underneath and kneading the backs of her thighs, almost as far as her bum.

“You’re very good at this, you know,” T said as she reached across and put her glass down on the coffee table. “This is having quite the effect on me,” she continued, looking at me as she gently ran her fingertips over her pert nipples through the fabric of her shirt.

“Thanks, I’m glad,” I replied, “I do aim to please. And I can’t say that I’m also…unaffected”. I was, by this point, rock hard, and I had to adjust my hips slightly to remain comfortable.

 “Was this included in the massage training,” T asked jokingly, “or is it an unintended side-effect?”

I laughed out loud before replying, “There was no mention of getting turned on in the instruction, but I don’t think it’s unprecedented! I also think that the situation, and the fact that it’s you –us – might have something to do with it.”

“Mmm, you’re getting no complaints from me’ T responded, biting her bottom lip slightly as she opened the buttons of her shirt and started playing with her now-exposed nipples. “However, right now, it seems that I’m sharing a lot more my skin than you are, and that doesn’t seem at all fair.”

“Excellent point, and well made. I couldn’t agree more, but you’ll have to move your legs if I’m to get my trousers open,” I countered, “as you’ve got me slightly hemmed in.”

“Fair enough,” she said, pulling her legs back so I could loosen and pull down my slacks, freeing my erection. She bent her right leg behind so her foot rested behind my back as I leaned forwards and laid the one back across my thigh again so her bum and pussy were now up against my now naked thigh. She then reached down between her legs and started stroking two fingertips across the front of her slit. “Show me how you touch yourself,” she continued in a slightly husky voice, “I want to see how you do it.”

I pushed my hips out a little more, opened my legs slightly and took my cock in my hand, slowly pulling my foreskin back with four fingers over the front and my thumb behind, sighing slightly as I did so. T was pressing further into her labia with two fingers, and I could smell her arousal, which heightened mine even further.

I turned on the sofa so I was facing T with my legs open, and she was nestled between them, stretching ourselves open towards each other as we both touched ourselves, alternately watching ourselves and each other, often looking into each other’s eyes. The shared turn-on, the shared explicitness and vulnerability, and that feeling that we were opening up to a new set of experiences after talking about it for so long, created an intensity, a bubble where it felt like everything else had ceased to exist.

We mirrored each other’s touches, showing each other what we liked. I played with my nipples as T teased hers, sometimes pulling hard and gasping when she did so. Our loins were so close together that while T was drawing circles around her clit, I pulled and squeezed my sac and balls firmly so my knuckles brushed against her wet labia. Then when I was stroking my cock for her, T fingered herself, and her hands made contact with my increasingly sensitive scrotum.

We took our time like this for a while, in no rush, not quite edging but very turned on as we shared ourselves intimately, arousing and pleasing each other through pleasing ourselves. After a while, T’s juices, mixed with my pre-cum, coated both of our bodies as we spread it over our thighs, stomachs, chests, and loins. I sucked on my fingers and tasted our cocktail, and T mimicked me, licking her fingers. We were both starting to pant by this stage, and in our continued mirrored masturbation, we were each teasing one nipple in one hand and our genitals with the other.

“I need to come,” T gasped, “it’s been building for too long; I’m desperate now.”

“Do it; I’ll try and wait a bit longer. I want to see your pleasure,” I replied.

I stopped tugging but held my cock firmly, stroking my chest and belly as I watched T begin to pull pulled harder on her nipples with her left hand, and her body started to undulate as she rubbed harder on her clit with her right. I pressed my hips towards her so my balls were against her pussy lips, and she ground against me. That alone was almost enough to make me erupt by this stage, but I took deep breaths and watched as she brought herself off.

T had been breathing deeply for a minute, and she suddenly inhaled sharply, holding her breath with a rasp as her eyes closed tight and then opened wide as her body tensed before she released a huge moan that seemed to originate from deep inside her. Her fingers paused on her clit, pressing hard for a few seconds as the world appeared to stop turning for her before she let go of the clench and rode the waves of her orgasm. I heard a squirting sound as she came, and then she was pulsing against my balls, coming hard, and I revelled in her pleasure as I saw it overtake her in steady blows until it slowly faded.

I waited for her to return to earth. Her body was so relaxed, so supple as she enjoyed the glow of her orgasm, and after a minute, she chuckled, “God, I needed that. I want to see you come now. Take yourself over the edge for me.”

“With pleasure,” I replied, in part disappointed that this intense experience was about to end but also desperate to release the pressure that had steadily built inside me, not just today, for what felt like months.

I scratched my chest with one hand as I rubbed more of T’s juices up my shaft with the other, pulling roughly on my foreskin, drawing it all the way back and tensing my thighs as I did so. The tickle deep below my stomach had been there for a while, but now I could feel it rising, and being watched by T, who looked both pleased with herself and expectant, was an additional accelerant.

As my orgasm suddenly hit, I grimaced and let out a guttural ‘Oh…ugghhh!” when that familiar flash of almost white light and excessive pleasure of the peak arrived as I held my foreskin back tight and reached down to clutch my balls, before letting go again and allowing the waves to follow. The first clench had nothing to show for itself, but the next one certainly did, a big glob of spunk firing onto my chest. It was followed by an even bigger one before a succession of pulses pushed more and more as I emptied my balls all over myself, leaving a slick of jizz on my stomach.

As it subsided, T sat up and crawled along the sofa so she was lying on me, and we kissed properly for the first time. Our lips met, soft but full, before opening, and our tongues met. We tasted each other, a familiar but still new mix of sex and wine. Our bodies were slimy with our come, and we were very slippery below the waist.

“Are you glad you came?” I asked as we both took a breath between our kisses.