The broken wine glass

A fun little story - mostly female POV, and not a whole lot of BDSM . . . just some good old sex.



Months later, putting away the dishes and noticing the missing wine glass, she smiled, recalling that "what the hell?" moment.

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It was a late night, the kids in bed, the husband asleep on the couch, as she sat playing around on facebook. It was just some mindless fun before trying to wake her husband, seeing if she could "really wake" him, and heading for bed, when she saw the new name.

"It's always better to play with a larger team," she thought to herself, accepting the friend invite from a stranger.

Yes, it's strategy that has me accepting this - not that smile

Months passed. He liked her statuses when she talked about getting to sleep in. She commented on a photo or two. It was friendly, cordial. Fine, it might have approached flirtatious a time or two, but it was all in good fun.

Then, late one night, the situation eerily similar, the message came in.

"Hey, it looks like business calls next Thursday - I think I'm going to be in your neck of the woods. Could I talk you & your husband into showing me around?"

"That'd be great," she sent back, not even looking at the calendar. It would be a Thursday night. She'd talk her sister into watching the kids, and they'd have an "adult night," because, let's face it, it had been too long since she'd had an adult conversation.

In the morning, she called her sister, and the arrangements. And then, she looked at the calendar.

David wouldn't be home.

Now, her husband traveling wasn't exactly a common thing - one or two days, every quarter.

How did this slip her mind?

She'd just have to cancel, that would be it.

But, she didn't. And, as her husband always thought her little "computer stuff" was just a silly distraction, somehow, the visit never came up.

It's just an oversight, surely.

"He doesn't really talk about how he meets at work," she said to herself, "and it's not like anything will happen."

She made a point to make love to her husband on Wednesday night. And they did . . . familiar, quick, and clean. Her mind, though, was on that smile.

Lying in bed, restless all night, she closed her eyes and touched herself an hour before the alarm went off, and pretended to sleep as David got ready. Soon after he left for the airport, she finally fell asleep.

It wasn't long, though, before the kids needed their tending. Thursday day passed like most any other.

She dropped the kids off with her sister, they were all excited for the change in routine. Somehow, her plans for the night never came up.

She talks about everything with her sister. How was this different?

"She'd just ask questions," she justified, it's not like anything is going to happen.

She got home and showered. She shaved her legs. When she dressed, she put on that sexy underwear she hadn't worn for forever, because "she liked the way it felt," though she hadn't worn it since . . . when was that? The week after she bought it?

A pair of jeans that always accentuated her curves and a low-cut sweater, because it might be chilly out on the town, finished the ensemble. And if "the girls" were on a bit of display, well, she did like his smile.

He knocked, and she answered right away.

She first noticed the sunglasses. It was a very sunny day, but she had always liked his eyes in his photos, and they were hidden. She admonished herself for even being disappointed. Then, she admonished herself for noticing just how good he looked in his suit.

"I hope I'm not overdressed," he said, stepping into the house, his easy smile catching her.

She just stared. In real time, it might have just been a second . . . but, in her mind, it was a lifetime. And she shook herself out of it. "oh, n-n-no . . . you're fine!" she said, smiling, as she went to meet him with a hug, only to see he put his hand forward, and then she put her hand forward as he leaned in to hug.

He grasped her hand with both of his, and her hand shook as they broke contact. He took off his sunglasses.

And only then did she realize just how tall he was.

"I hate to ask so early, but would you mind if I used your rest room?" he asked. "I've had a bit too much water to help me fight the time change."

She directed him to the bathroom & ran to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. What type of wine did he drink? Oh, she'd seen it in his statuses, damnit why couldn't she remember?

There was a bottle of red (to this day, she wouldn't be able to tell you what type of red it was - just that it wasn't white or pink) in one hand, and two glasses in the other, as he returned. "Can I tempt you?" she asked, pausing, "before we head out?"

"But of course" he answered, a smirk on his face.

She placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, sitting down, only to swear under her breath when she stood back up to get the corkscrew.

Running into the kitchen, she returned seconds later, just slightly out of breath. She bent down to pick up the bottle of wine, holding her left hand to hold the sweater to her cleavage.

"This is a beautiful house," he remarked, and she dropped her hand.

"Oh, this old place?" she answered, berating herself internally for the mixed cliche as looked up at him. His eyes took just a split second to travel from her exposed cleavage to look her in the eyes.

She blushed the tiniest of blushes.

He pretended to not get caught looking.

She sat on the sofa, next to him, one of her legs on the cushion, to better face him, and that chatted. They drank wine and they talked about his job, her family, the house, the town. She was midway through a monologue about how the town got its name when she realized that her glass was empty. So was his. So was the bottle.

He'd been refilling as they went, and they made it through the bottle. "I'll get another," she said, stopping in mid-monologue, and ran from the room to the dining room, with the wine rack, her glass in hand.

He followed.

"Merlot or..." she shouted back to find him standing right there. "Oh, sorry, you startled me," she said and he put his index finger under her chin.

Before their lips met, her right hand was pressing into the crotch of his suit.

Their lips met as she unfastened his fly. They kissed, both of his hands at her neck, her right hand unzipping his fly and reaching in to find his member.

Was she really doing this?

She felt like she did on prom night. She could blame the wine, but it was the moment. She needed this moment.

He walked into her, holding her against the wall as she continued to stroke the length of him with her right hand. Her left hand, still holding the wine glass, wrapped around his shoulders, though she had to stand on her tip-toes to reach.

His hands moved down, covering her breasts, and she stopped completely and shuddered. He reached inside her sweater, cupping her, and the wine glass fell from her hand, crashing against the floor. She closed her eyes.

"Take me" she whispered, and he bit her lower lip as her knees gave.

With one arm, he caught her before she hit the ground, their lips still interlocked. He placed the other arm behind her knees & walked her back to the sofa, where he threw her down.

Her eyes caught his erection, sticking through his suit pants, and she sat up, putting it in her mouth.

Recalling skills long-forgotten, she worked the rod before her. One hand guiding the cock into her mouth as she took as much as she dared without gagging, and the other hand fondling his balls.

He reared his head back in ecstasy, and she responded by running her tongue along the underside. His right leg began to shake.

She had forgotten just how fun a blow-job could be.

Minutes passed as she guided him into and out of her mouth, marveling at the grunts and sighs he was making. Loving the taste more and more.

When her mouth grew tired, she went back to stroking him. Her hand closing up near the head, and then working all of the way down, pressing against his hips, and then back up. But those breaks were few & far between - she wanted to taste all of him.

And when she felt him grab a hold of her hair, she knew she had him.

Five quick strokes with her mouth, her tongue pressed hard against the underside of his cock and she noticed his tension releasing. She stopped, taking all of him into her mouth, and then she felt the spray before tasting it. She swallowed it all, not wanting to waste any, savoring the taste. And after the last little convulsion, the last drips spilling from his head, she let his cock fall from her mouth. She licked her lips, thinking "so that's what a 'job well done' feels like."

Her fingers played with the semi-flaccid member before her and she chuckled at the absurdness of the moment. There he stood, fully dressed, but with his cock hanging out. And there she was, fully clothed, the taste of salt in her mouth.

She reached down between her legs, needing to give her clit just a tweak & couldn't believe what she felt. Had she peed herself? Surely, that all couldn't just be her, through her jeans? Right?

He pressed her shoulder down, and laid on top of her, pressing his weight against her. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. And, a second later, they were kissing. She wasn't sure if she preferred the taste of his tongue or his seed more, but she certainly liked both.

The fingers of his right hand started moving of their own accord. Down the line of her sweater, inside her bra, pinching her nipple. She squirmed.

His right leg forced its way between both her legs, and she held it right there with a death grip. His fingers traveled down her side, worming their way under her jeans.

Had this been a few months ago, that would have been it, but she'd lost weight - and his whole hand worked its way in. He pinched her butt, traced the line of her panties, then reached between her legs, as she sat breathing, heavily, thinking "how much longer can his arms be?"

Deftly, his fingers pushed aside her panties and he played with her. Until that afternoon, she had simply been sore; now, she needed. Her whole body stiffened as he pressed a finger into her, and she bit his lip. They moaned together as he withdrew his finger and looked for her clit.

He found it.

She released his leg & lay down, flat on the sofa. Surrendered to him.

His left hand moved down to the fly of her jeans, and before she knew it, her pants were unbuttoned & unzippered. On his knees, he reached under her, grabbing the jeans by the rear pockets (damn, his hands felt good against her ass) and pulling down. A chill went up her body with the sudden entrance of cold air at her legs.

Over her panties, he pressed. She felt the squish, still unable to believe it was all her.

Both of her hands flopped over her head as his hand slipped under her panties and two fingers worked into her. She gyrated. She moaned. She met each of his finger thrusts with a hip thrust of her own. When he withdrew his fingers and pinched her clit, she bucked.

With the slight break of contact, they attacked each other's clothing. He raised her sweater over her head as she unbuttoned his pants & pulled them down. He untied his tie as she took her bra off, cupping her breasts and watching him unbutton his shirt for just a second before pouncing on him, straddling his hips, and "helping" him, kissing after unbuttoning each button, her hands wandering all over his chest, her soaked panties rubbing against his crotch.

She stopped, suddenly, as if rethinking, with his shirt fully unbuttoned, his chest lying open to her. He reached up and cupped her breasts, and she moaned, her pelvis pushing hard against his, the lips of her pussy, through her panties, wrapping around his cock.

And with that, she came.

She pressed her hips against his, little trembles starting from somewhere deep inside her. Somewhere that had been long dormant. She arched her back and he grabbed her hips, holding her closer. Her hands moved to her hair, and she ran her fingers through it as noises she hadn't made since she was a teenager echoed about the room.

And then she collapsed into his chest, gasping for air, her hips still grinding against his. He held her close with one arm, the fingers of his other hand running through her hair. He continued to grow harder.

Holding her tight to him, he stood, lifting her along with him. He kissed her as she held onto him tight, and he placed her back down on the sofa. Together, her hands below her, his hands from her stomach, they peeled off her panties, and she threw them across the room. They watched, and chuckled, as they stuck to the wall for just a second, leaving a wet spot upon impact.

He started to work his way down her torso, kissing his way to her sex, but she caught him by the ears, pulling him toward her. They kissed, and he entered her.

Immediately, he pressed all of the way into her. Her legs and arms wrapped around him. Her fingernails dug into his back. She gasped as he hit just that right spot, and, without even thrusting, she reached nirvana yet again.

Hungrily, she looked at his face, her body shaking involuntarily, and he pressed himself further into her. She threw her head back, her eyes rolling back into her head, as she writhed about.

When her leg-lock death grip abated just the slightest bit, he started to pump. Holding her close to him, he pounded her sore-this-morning sex. She closed her eyes, running her hands about his chest, allowing her mind to wander to earlier times. And her world, at this time, was nothing but pleasure.

As he slowed his motion, growing harder with each stroke, she opened her eyes and moved her hand down, grabbing his sex on the withdrawal. "We're not past that point, are we?" she asked.

"No - but another second and we would have been," he answered, breathlessly, moaning as she ran a finger up the underside of his throbbing cock.

He grabbed the wrist of the teasing hand, got to his knees, and placed his head between her legs, licking. She tried to fight him, to pull him up like before, but once his tongue made contact, she gave up.

His head moved with her pelvis, as one. She pumped her hips, as he moved his head, licking her clit. Both of his hands moved up to her breasts, and her hands moved over them, forcing them to grab, to squeeze, to knead.

His head and her sex danced their tango as she rode little wave after little wave . . . each time, a little shudder echoing through her body. And when he placed her little button between his lips, sucking on it, she lost control. Her hands moved to his head, pushing him into her. Her legs wrapped about his head. She let out noises that she's pretty sure dogs couldn't hear. She went to grab whatever she could, and he held her thighs.

Her back arched.

She cried out.

Her vision went to white.

Her entire body clenched.

And then, starting in her toes, wave after wave hit. If she didn't know better, she would swear she was levitating as he teased her clit, holding her close.

Minutes later, she realized that she was drenched in sweat. She realized that, for the first time in a long, long time, her back didn't hurt. She realized, also, that she wasn't done.

He looked up at her from his perch between her legs, his tongue simply lightly pressing against her sex, and they made eye contact.

Her hands moved to his, and he released his grip on her thighs. She scooted back on the couch and flipped herself over. When first she tried to get on her hands & knees, she simply collapsed back onto the couch, but she concentrated and, legs slightly spread, she looked over her shoulder at him, noting that the couch cushions were soaked.

He entered her from behind, grabbing her hair, now a mess, and pulling it back as he pounded into her. She looked at the ceiling as he kissed the back of her neck, pounding into her.

He didn't last long, and she went into convulsions as she felt his cock spasm. She felt him spill out of her .

How much does he have in him?

He collapsed onto her, kissing the back.

"How about we head out for dinner?" he asked, running his fingertips down her back.

"What time is it," she responded, breathless.

"Almost 10," he answered, and she got up with a start. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"My sister is going to bring the kids back any minute," she responded, gathering her clothes. She picked up the panties from the floor, went to put them on, realized that it felt like they had just come out from the wash and decided against it.

"I thought we were good all night?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Yeah, the kids were going to have dinner at my sisters, and then spend the night here," she stated, the tiniest bit panicked, looking at him, wishing he'd dress more quickly . . . and wishing he'd stay undressed at the same time.

With his shirt and pants back on, his tie sitting loosely about his neck, she hopped into his arms again. They kissed.

"Next time you're in town, we'll have a formal introduction," she said as he walked to the door.

The rental car was gone for 10 minutes when her sister pulled in.

"I wasn't expecting to see you," she said, a sleeping child on her shoulder, a separate child holding her hand. "Weren't you heading out with your old college buddies?"

Was that the story I told her?

"Plans fell through," she said.

"Well, I'm glad you got some time to yourself. I don't think I've seen that smile on you since that first time you broke curfew . . . who was that with, Brian?"

"Oh, it was lovely to just relax," she said, taking the sleeping child from her sister's shoulder.

With the bedtime duties straightened away, her sister left. She put the kids to bed and lay there for a long while, a big goofy grin on her face.