Husband's Journeys 09: A Chronicle of Exciting Encounters
As we arrived at the cafe, a waitress was just in the process of setting up tables and chairs outside.
"Are you open?" I inquired, and she looked at me puzzled. "I mean, can we sit at one of these tables?"
"Certainly!" She responded, "I'll be right back out to take your order." And with that, she vanished into the cafe.
We found ourselves near a larger, round table, dragging some chairs from another table so everyone could sit together. Sofi sat on my right and Leslie on my left. Omar was on the other side of Leslie, followed by Abi, Emma, and David, completing the circle near Sofi.
"Wow! What a night!" I began, and Omar chuckled, shaking his head slowly and looking at the table.
"Yes. What a night," he repeated, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about what I'd done the previous night. The societal stigma about such behavior still very much existed in my mind, and the weight of it started to bear down on me.
Then David spoke up for the first time, "It was fantastic!" And with that, simple innocent statement, I felt more at ease. There was no one at this table who would judge anyone else. I sensed a strong connection with everyone here.
I glanced at the doorway of the cafe to read the clock on the far wall, and it read a bit after 6 am. As soon as I saw the time, I noticed the waitress reappearing and assumed she thought I was staring at her. She gave me a warm smile and headed our way, apologizing for the wait.
"What would you like?" She asked, directing her query towards me.
"Coffees for everyone?" I asked the group, and most nodded in agreement.
Emma asked, "Do you serve orange juice?"
"Of course," the waitress beamed, "Anything else?"
"Do you have milkshakes?" Asked David, and she quickly bent her hips towards him.
"Which flavor do you prefer?" She inquired.
Emma and Sofi shot her a look that suggested, "back off." The waitress smiled at her small victory before retreating back into the cafe.
After a moment of silence, Emma inquired, "Does anyone know what time it is?"
"It's 6 am," I replied.
"I can't believe I'm not tired yet," Emma said proudly, "I think I can stay awake all day."
We all smiled at her. It wasn't a patronizing grin, but a loving one. Emma may have been an adult, but she possessed an endearing innocence. Sofi looked at her with the most affection, mouthing, "I love you." to Emma, her best friend.
Emma beamed back at Sofi, radiating pure happiness from her exposed lips, eyes, and completely relaxed and attentive body language. Sofi and everyone else present instantly recognized the love in her gaze and fell in love with their love for each other. It didn't matter because they knew she felt the same way too.
The interlude ended with the return of the waitress, who skilfully brought all our drinks to the table, following David's with a bit of flirtation, squeezing his arm playfully as she moved aside. David seemed oblivious, lost in his milkshake.
Emma and Sofi watched David guzzle the initial swallows, then exchanged a knowing glance before turning to their own drinks.
We all followed suit and almost simultaneously raised our drinks and sipped them simultaneously.
"I adore being part of this group!" beamed Emma.
"Yeah," David agreed, pausing momentarily from his shake to say the word, before returning to his drinking.
I hadn't really been part of a gang before. I'd been in some friendship groups, but never one I'd consider a gang.
Nevertheless, as I pondered it, I realized we'd witnessed each other's most private moments and emotions. This is more characteristic of gangs than casual acquaintances one meets occasionally.
"I've never been a part of a gang, have I?" I spoke aloud for the first time, seeking insight on the concept.
"There are different kinds of gangs," Omar suggested.
Leslie jumped in mid-conversation, "Oh yes, definitely!" Her experience in the matter was obvious from her voice.
"Has Leslie been in a gang?" Abi inquired.
Leslie agreed with a nod at the table and sighed, "Yes, I've done many things."
SoFi intervened, concerned for her mother, "Mom, you don't need to share these details if you're uncomfortable."
Leslie turned to her and stated, "I feel more comfortable with these people than anyone else in my life. I want to tell someone, but I'll only do it if you're completely okay with it."
"These people are kind," SoFi acknowledged, encouraging her mother.
"I never knew my parents," Leslie began her story, "I spent my whole childhood moving between various foster homes. Apparently, I had an older brother. I'd fantasize about meeting him and him taking care of me. But that never happened. Unless you've endured this life, it's hard to understand."
"I agree," I chimed in, grabbing their attention, "I was adopted at age five." My adopted family looked at me in curiosity.
"You mean you never met your parents?" Omar asked, slightly concerned. "I miss my family so much. It must be hard for you."
Leslie smiled sadly, "I still think I might find my brother someday."
"You had a sister?" I said, recognizing the similarity, "My only memory of my parents was my mother being pregnant. A social worker once informed me I had a sister who might come to live with us. I remember being excited about it, but nothing more was mentioned."
Omar chuckled, "Maybe you two are siblings."
"Because all white people look the same?" I teased.
Omar frowned, appearing offended, "No." He explained, "Something else."
The conversation ceased for a moment as we pondered the implication.
Leslie and I studied each other's features. She had the same blue eyes as me; the same wavy, golden hair; even the same high cheekbones. We also shared a similar athletic physique, despite Leslie's love for junk food.
Taking a closer look, our expressions changed. We appeared to be analyzing each other's appearances. When we looked at each other, our jaws dropped simultaneously.
Leslie inquired, "How old are you?"
"Thirty-six," I responded.
"Five years older than me." she calculated.
The thought of Leslie possibly being my sister was uneasy, particularly considering the attraction and my intimate encounter with her earlier. She seemingly sensed my guilt and squashed it, "I'd love it if you were my brother!" She smiled warmly, and inside, I wanted that to be true too.
Eventually, Emma stated, "I'm feeling quite tired. Let's all go to my place. My parents are away. I could really use some companionship."
We evaluated the suggestion and gave our consent.
As we walked towards Emma's place, Leslie stayed close to me. She leaned her head against my side, and it felt amazing to have her warm, loving body close to me.
Abi and Omar walked in front of us, holding hands. Sofi and Emma strolled with David, laughing and chatting happily about something I couldn't make out. [Paraphrased text with simplified language, informal tone and refined sentence structures while maintaining the original context, formatting, and length]
I hadn't been a part of a gang before, so I asked. "In my entire life?" I questioned.
"Well, there are various types of gangs," Omar explained.
Talking with such knowledge was Leslie, who said, "You're right, buddy!"
Abi questioned next, "You've been in a gang?"
Leslie nodded at the table. "Yes, I've done a ton of stuff."
SoFi assured, "If you're comfy with it, we'd love to hear."
"These people can be trusted," SoFi expressed.
Born in foster homes, "I didn't know my parents," Leslie started. "Apparently, I had a brother. I imagined him taking care of me. But I never met him."
Similar feelings I had. "At five, I got adopted," my story continued.
Considering Leslie's past, "Never met your parents?" Omar pondered. "I miss my family so much. It must've been tough on you."
Leslie laughed sadly. "Got a hope to find my brother someday."
A sibling? "I had a sister." I noted. "My only recollection of my parents was my mom being pregnant." My new family listened. "A social worker informed me I had a sister who might visit. However, there was no more update."
A link to our lives, "Maybe you and I are siblings." Omar proposed.
My humor, "Is it because all white people look the same?"
Omar shrugged it off, "No, that's not it."
The topic paused as we considered the idea.
Leslie observed my appearance. "How's your age?"
"36." I answered.
"5 years my senior." she deduced.
The concept of Leslie being my sibling might seem uncomfortable, considering my desired romantic interactions and explicit moment between us. "I'd see it the best way if you were my sister." She wanted it, so did I.
Tired, Emma suggested, "I'm feeling drained. Let's all go to my place. My folks aren't home. I'd like a bit of company."
We weighed the idea. And confirmed.
Following Omar and Abi, SoFi and Emma strolled. David chuckled with Sofi, and Emma seemed entertained.
Approximately an hour later, we arrived back at Emma's house, or rather, her parents' house. It was quite the sight - a two-story detached home with a sizable drive. Emma welcomed us in, leading us to the gigantic living room. Furnished with several broad leather sofas, we all plopped down on three of them, occupying the same seating arrangement as our walkover.
Emma flipped on the television and we quietly watched a typical music video. When it mercifully ended, Emma jumped up from the sofa she was sharing with Sofi and David and proclaimed, "I'm heading to bed."
She glanced at Sofi and David and prompted them, "Come along!"
The other two teenagers leaped out of the sofa in unison and followed Emma up the stairs. The door upstairs closed with a distinctive sound, leaving just Emma's distinctive voice to be heard overhead. "There are other bedrooms if you need them. Feel free to use them."
Yet another music video played out, and I noticed some laughter coming from upstairs. Clearly, they didn't plan to sleep anytime soon. Abi glanced at the ceiling and whispered to Omar, "Shall we go upstairs?" Omar nodded and followed Abi, exiting the room.
Leslie and I remained seated on the immense sofa, curled up together, hugging each other. She breathed softly on my neck and melted my heart.
"We could get a DNA test, you know," she murmured into my ear.
"Yeah," I agreed, "they're not too costly, generally about sixty bucks."
"It takes about three weeks to get the results, and then we'd know for sure."
I nodded, understanding what she meant. After a quick silence, she traced her hand gently over my chest and torso, caressing me. She squeezed herself closer into me and sighed. "I want an older brother to look after me. I would take care of him in return in any way I can." Leslie went on, her hand ever so slightly slipping into the waistband of my jeans, inching even closer to my erection.
Hearing this, my heart picked up its pace, and Leslie must've felt it as well. "It seems he agrees," she muttered into my ear before further circling my chest and torso.
Her fingertips were mere millimeters from my penis, and my body reacted. My erection pushed against the denim, gradually growing in length up my waist. When it was long enough, she fondled my length with her fingertips, teasing me.
"Mmm," she purred, "anything for my brother." And my cock responded to this incestuous implication with a telltale twitch. She giggled and continued her gentle circling of my shaft.
Almost sharing a sigh with me, she slowly managed to slide her hand into my jeans, inches away from my throbbing erection. She lingered for a moment before pulling her hand away, stopping short of physically entering my pants. She brought one of the wet towels to her nose and made a face.
"You haven't even washed this thing," she said, then metamorphosing into a playful tone. "What kind of gentleman are you?" and marched to the kitchen.
When she returned, she held a bowl of warm water and various towels in her hands.
Kneeling next to me, Emma removed my jeans and pulled them to my knees. Applying the towel to my thighs, she used the hot water to soothe the skin. After she acclimatized me to the temperature, she moved up to my scrotum. As she touched these tender parts, they must've contracted, because her fingertips gently teased them. Leslie's face lit up with a pleased smile at the contraction. She endeavored to warm my balls, gently wiping them with the warm towel she still held.
As she continued, her attentions turned to my erection. Starting with the base of my shaft, she deliberately wiped up and down, each stroke bringing her hand a little farther up the now-rock-hard result of her attentions. She only progressed a millimeter at a time, making me extra sensitive. I was close to coming after each stroke sheAdminergizedi.
Finally, she turned her attention to my shaft. She started with the base, wrapping the towel around it with her fingers and making minor strokes. With each stroke, she inched up my length until the entire shaft was covered in the warm wetness. At this point, I felt an orgasm approaching.
Clearly wanting to delay it, Emma decided to focus on a single spot: the tip of my penis. She rubbed the towel over the helmet and its surroundings with exquisite dedication, her mild touches causing me to grit my teeth. When she reached the head, she carefully wiped away my pre-cum as if it was something special.
It had been a full minute since she began; her initial focused efforts had turned my swollen member into a prize she needed to maintain. With the head shiny and noticeable, she resumed her tempo, circling my shaft in light strokes. I was on the verge of cumming with each one.
Following a few minutes of focusing on the main girth of the shaft, she arrived at the spot where my helmet meets the top of the shaft. The sense of the heated towel being pressed against my most delicate location was otherworldly. And she was aware of this, keeping the towel stationary, tight against me, delighting in the sensation and incredible view of my maximally engorged dick, thrashing and twitching under her expert grasp.
After a while, the convulsing penis stopped its involuntary actions, and she carefully pulled the towel back down the shaft once more, pulling the skin away from the engorged, purple knob and exposing it completely to her captivated gaze.
Next, she dunked the towel in the hot water and squeezed it out. Her next action was to shove my knob into the heated towel and when she did, I thought I would ejaculate instantly. The throb of my overexcited penis was amplified with even more intense jolts, as my sacks pleaded with me to release my load.
At length, Leslie knowledgeably held my helmet immutable in the wet, warm prison of the towel until the objection from my convulsing penis subsided. After this, she extracted the towel from my penis with a final wipe and deposited the filthy material in the water basin.
There stood my colossal, turgid erection, spotless and composed. Leslie designated a delicate dry towel on my penis and balls now, dabbing and patting away the wetness. Once she was certain she had accomplished the cleaning duty to a remarkable standard, she gazed admiringly at the gigantic, hard, upright flesh tube before her and tenderly kissed it, as if it had been a good boy and she was rewarding its bravery.
Once again, my cock twitched in response and Leslie smirked with pride.
"Would you like me to engulf it?" She inquired, as if she were offering me a delicious beverage.
"Uh-huh." I grunted, incapable of formulating anything more substantial, and with that, she clutched the base of my aching erection and lowered her head gradually, inexorably towards my need.
I observed as she parted her lips just a bit and further lowered her head. Then I witnessed her roll my penis around in tiny circles, and start softly rubbing the head of my dark purple knob on her lips. My head peeled back onto the arm of the sofa as I witnessed her tease the monster within me.
Soon enough, she was drooling a little over my penis and her saliva was lubricating the motions, allowing my swollen member to glide into her steamy mouth. As I'd observed previously that day, this wouldn't last long.
Inch by inch, her slurping, adoring mouth descended over my straining structure, when, with a subtle push, my helmet contacted the rear of her throat. This signified to her to begin coaxing the skin around the base of my fuck stick up and down the steel-hard rod.
When she'd established a gentle rhythm for her hand, she raised her head slightly before lowering it again onto my stiff organ, nudging my helmet with her throat yet more. She repeated this process, and after only about five such actions, I commenced to erupt.
"Oh fuck!" I blurted out into the atmosphere as she persistently propelled me over the precipice.
The initial discharge from my sacks produced a significant blast from me, and she instantly swallowed it. The subsequent outpouring was thicker and I heard the gulping sound as she swallowed that spoonful. The subsequent one seemed more like a watery drip as it exited me, and sensed her inner mouth flex as she ingested that one.
Exceptionally, I dried up after three discharges, but it still felt good to have this expert performing another spellbinding blow job.
Nonetheless, she continued stroking and nudging that thing, and even though I'd already sent my entire load into her voracious mouth, I didn't wish her to halt just yet. She comprehended this and continued, yet not forcing the sucking and swallowing now, but rather caring for me more tenderly. A couple of minutes of this and I began to lose firmness. She eased off her actions, now only attending to me with her tongue, inside her mouth.
In time, I'd become completely pliant and she allowed it to emerge from her mouth and dangle on my emptiness. I'd never been so fulfilled, and I fell in love with her for this.
Leslie climbed back onto the sofa adjacent to me and rested the side of her contented, gratified face on my shoulder, while I sank into an immediate, restful slumber.
Read also:
- Criminally-Tuned Rhythm Chapter 1
- Chapter 3: The Altered Text
- Dancing With Mom: Chapter Two
- Pinnacle of Excellence
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