Dinner Date

Ryan Ryans chopped herbs like her life depended on it, eye on the clock, dreaming about tonight's dinner. Danica sat across the room and smiled, already thanking the universe for the few hours away from home. They traded college gossip between quick tastes of sauce until Ryan sighed that she hardly massaged anyone since school. With the oven still cold, Ryan patted the long wooden table and said, "Get on. Let's see if I still remember anything." Danica laughed, stripped off her blouse, bra, stockings, and stretched out bare, skin gleaming in the kitchen light. Ryan poured oil, dragged warm palms down her old classmate's shoulders and waist, down each thigh, inching closer until her thumbs hovered right over Danica's smooth, shaved pussy. "Maybe not there," Danica whispered, but Ryan's soft chuckle and steady strokes melted the protest. Fingers slipped between folds, slow circles turning firmer, faster, until Danica's breath broke in sharp gasps, her back arching, hips chasing every stroke. Ryan grinned wickedly, savoring the slick heat she coaxed out, giving Danica a night no husband could even dream of recreating.