She’s waiting outside the church, it’s a dry, sunny day, slight breeze. Looking around, surrounded by friends and strangers in equal measure, her shoulder length blonde hair is whipped by the wind, and across her eyes. She brushes it aside, those fingers, tapered and delicate. The very same she used to grasp his cock before jerking it hard and sucking on it. The same she used to fuck herself while on the phone to her lover, before licking her taste from them.

As the weather allowed it, she’s wearing a summer dress. Big floral print, bright but not gaudy. She doesn’t go in for making a show of herself in public. Understated, classy. That’s how she wants to be seen. He knows she’s not wearing a bra underneath, the fabric brushing against her nipples. The small breasts she’s always been so conscious off. That he could never convince her otherwise about.

He’s remembering the first time they saw each other naked. It had been a hot day, humid heat and overcast. Taking off some clothing was inevitable, just to cool down. But that particular afternoon things went much further. Sitting opposite each other on the double bed, he removed his T-shirt, shorts still on at this point. In turn she’d pulled the top she was wearing over her head and sat there, looking him full in the eye. A look that said ‘see, what did I tell you? All he could think was how she seemed, at that moment to be everything he desired.

Drawing a line in his head from her slender neck, between her breasts to between her legs. He followed it and was aware of every detail of her body. There was a time she wouldn’t even show her stomach ‘I hate my belly button’ half protesting as her top was pulled up.

At that moment all coyness disappeared, as she extended her legs over his and shifted so he could remove her underwear. Pulling them over her thighs slowly, her eyes took on a muzzy look, and she bit down on her lip, leant back on her hands and waited. Pressing a hand against her, using his thumb to rub, two fingers slowly enveloped by the warm wetness, pumping in and out as she coats his fingers.

Three days without any release, boxers taut over his erect penis, the precum soaking through the fabric. Remembering the smell of sex as he removed the final items of clothing. she sits up with her weight on his thighs, grinding, and bringing her wet slit closer to the cock before her.

And then she’s grasping him, squeezing and pulling, milking the clear viscosity, rubbing it over the tip. Fingers massaging his full balls, has he ever been this turned on before? He certainly can’t remember being this hard, veins raised. So close he could enter her with a small thrust.

He does just that and they come together, an inch or two inside briefly. It’s a game, a tease. They’re slick with each other and the afternoon has warmed up, smells mingling, heady. The world recedes, as he she takes him in fully, sitting on his inches smoothly.

The need to grab her is overwhelming, and with hands cupping and kneading her breasts, pinching nipples, they move together. The valley between their legs becoming hotter and stickier. The sounds just audible above the heavy breathing become more urgent. He grits his teeth and lets loose a half moan half groan.

The afternoon is lost in this way, him and her, full of each other. Frantic then slow, cresting the wave then receding, over and over until one moment too many takes them together.