We're not touching each other. That's the rule, and we're going to stick to it.
Tension can be hard to manufacture. Especially when you've been together for ten years, and life gets in the way of taking your clothes off. It's easy to fall into something familiar or even forgo intimacy altogether.
But sitting on the couch, her in a matching bra and panties with a silk robe over it and me in shorts and a ribbed tank, the air is thick with it. We made one simple rule for the night, and as we stare into each other's eyes and take in all that exposed skin, I try to convince myself that we'll stick to it.
No touching, no kissing, and definitely no fucking. Everything else is on the table, but I don't want everything else.
I want to touch her. I want to kiss her, and I definitely want to fuck her.
"Can I tell you I want you even if we know nothing is going to happen?" I ask. She's lying back, watching me grow hard. I adjust myself through the tight fabric, far more awkwardly than intended.
"You can tell me anything you want. As long as we don't touch. Everything's fine if we don't cross that line. It would be so wrong otherwise. So very wrong."
The reason it's wrong changes with every second. My mind is too flooded with hormones to stay still, but the scenes blur together until I can't tell them apart: she's too young, she's my sister, we're old friends, I'm her teacher, she’s married, and on and on like a montage of the forbidden.
As she gazes at me, I free myself from my shorts and wrap my hand around my cock. We’re not touching so it doesn’t count. It’s the most innocent thing to do.
"Look what you do to me," I moan.
"We have to be good," she sighs as she slips two fingers into her panties, pushes them inside herself, and then licks them clean. She loses the robe a second later. Her bra follows, and I march along behind her, tossing my shirt to the floor. My hand moves faster as my heartbeat increases tenfold.
I stand up when she kneels on the floor in front of me. There's a glimmer in her eye, telling me not to break. Come close, it calls, but stay strong.
With her tongue out, it's nearly impossible. I lean over her, my cock less than an inch from her mouth. I can feel her breath; I haven't been this hard in months.
"It doesn't count if you don't touch me," I say as she opens wide. I avoid her teeth as I remember how her lips feel. When her tongue brushes me for the briefest of seconds, I pull back, wondering how that sliver of touch drives me crazier than the sloppiest head.
I jerk off faster, wondering if coming on her face or in her mouth would count. What's my body, and what isn't? Does come count as touch? Should it?
She lets me slide along her tongue twice more before sitting back, and my eyesight goes blurry. Whatever blood was in my head isn't there anymore, and the room spins.
"Fuck," I groan as I fall to the couch, still touching myself. "I want to fuck your mouth and then the rest of you. Who let you be so pretty?"
She joins me, our legs intertwined as she pulls off the last of her clothing. When her fingers part her wet lips, I imagine kissing her and fucking her in equal measure. I've never been as hungry for her as I am now, and I'm delirious as she pushes fingers inside her, making me jealous of a digit.
"Is this where you want to fuck me?" she asks. "Right here? If you were allowed, I mean. If it weren't so wrong, would you fuck me here?"
It's my turn to move in closer, and I still wonder about our silly rule. It's done what it was intended to do! We've moved from flirting and simmering to a full fucking boil, and holding back is ridiculous. How many times have we fucked over the years? How many times have I buried my mouth between her thighs or held her in my arms as she came to the sound of my voice?
"What if I taste you? Just for a moment."
"We shouldn't," she moans, no longer as convincing as she was. "It would be so wrong."
I watch as just inches away, she pushes two fingers into her pussy before holding them up for me to kiss. I suck them into my mouth, realizing we're breaking a rule but no longer caring. I crave her and need her, and if that's the only taste I get, then I'm going to savor it forever.
When I touch her thigh with my lips, she tells me it's not fair.
"Maybe just for a second. It won't count if it doesn't last, right?" she asks as if I'm going to say no.
When I finally taste her, I'm voracious. I grab her thighs with both hands and bury my mouth against her, fucking her with my tongue, holding onto the wrongness of it just enough to drive me on.
She falls back, her fingers on her clit as I eat her, and with every breath, she reminds me.
"You shouldn't," she cries as I do it anyway. "It's so wrong; you're going to ruin everything."
"I need to fuck you," I say, moving up her body until I kiss her mouth. She takes my head in her hand and kisses me back as I feel her wet skin against my cock. I pull back just enough, but that hint is too much.
Leaning up, I take my cock in hand and hold it between her legs, inches away from her spread lips.
"What if I came right here? You could rub me into your skin, push it inside yourself, and it wouldn't count, isn't that right?"
"No," she moans as I touch her. I nestle in, sliding up and down her soft lips until my cock is coated with her excitement.
"I could put it in for a second; that's not real, is it?"
"Just a second?" she asks, accepting my ridiculous argument as a possible excuse. "It wouldn't count?"
"I won't be able to stop," I admit, pushing the game further. "And besides, I don't even have a condom."
We haven't used condoms in eight years, but it doesn't matter. It's one more reason to resist, and it makes me want her even more.
"We can't fuck without one," she says, touching herself furiously. "You'd have to pull out."
"I can pretend I'd try," I moan, so close to penetrating her that I ache.
"If I come first, I’ll give in," she sighs as I slip to the floor beside her. It’s both a warning and an invitation. "If you make me come I don’t think I can say no."
Reason and logic have fled, and I no longer care. I lean in and kiss her as I slip two fingers inside her willing body. I curve them up as she rubs her clit in quick circles, and each time I pull them to me, she moans and shuts her eyes.
As I finger her, I tell her I want her again and again. More times than I have in months. I want to fuck you. I want to taste you. I need to come in you even though I promised I wouldn’t.
"Oh fuck yes!" she cries, surprised at how fast she comes. I keep going, and she does the same; she opens her eyes wide with a smile that's both joyous and impressed.
I lean in and kiss her, taking her breath for myself, and she trembles beneath me as she finally lets go of everything. As she shivers on the couch I stand and look down, with just one thought on my mind: I need to be inside her.
"Fuck me now," she begs, her orgasm still lingering.
I don't need more than that. I'm between her legs and inside her without effort, and she feels so impossibly good that I fall in love with her all over again. Magically, sex has never felt this good, and she looks up at me, her mouth open and her lips wet.
"We shouldn't," she says again, and I feel it in my bones. It's so horribly wrong that nothing has been this good before. "Just don't come in me; whatever you do, don't come in me!"
Her words have the intended effect. I've fucked her for less than sixty seconds, and I come like it's my first time. I fall against her, needing to touch skin, and I don't slow down as my entire body tightens and releases like a storm. I come far longer than I knew was possible, and with a smile on her face, she scolds me for what I've done.
When I finally collapse, it's to a kiss and a laugh. We return to ourselves in an instant, and it's with joyous relief. We're here, we're sweaty, and we've just fucked harder than we have in ages.
When I pull out, I can't help but stare at our bodies in awe and wonder. Her face is beautiful, her eyes glowing, and her mouth still inviting. I kiss her again before sitting back and shaking my head in disbelief.
"Fuck, that was so hot," she says. I nod in agreement, unsure if I can form words.
I manage to say I love you and she says it back before we both get up to pee like the grown-ups that we are. We're playful and happy, still surprised at the ease and effectiveness of saying, we can't, we shouldn't.
I pour us drinks as we settle back into comfort and routine, but now with a glimmer of something beautiful hanging around us. Satisfaction comes quickly, and the dim apartment embraces us as we sink into soft pillows.
Sometimes tension is hard to manufacture. Routines are impossible to break, and the gravity of domestic life holds us tethered.
But then, on nights like tonight, a few words, a set intention, and two beautifully vivid imaginations make everything new again
.