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Swing Shift Swing
If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright, 2010, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination; any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Swing Shift Swing
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"Look, Laura, do you think you could give me a ride home? My car's in the shop, and the buses don't run this late any more." "Sure," she replied. "If nothing else, I owe you for telling me about that vacancy." The conversation on the ride there was desultory. At least traffic caused no problems at one in the morning. Parking was a pain then, though; everybody else had made their choices hours before. And she was happy enough to have his company on the three-block walk back. "I've never had any problems in the neighborhood, Paul, but I'll admit that I feel more comfortable walking beside a six-foot guy this time of night." "In that case," Paul said, "I'll walk you to your door. Least I can do. Never heard of muggers in the neighborhood, but that's no comfort if you meet the first one." So, they walked past his building and came to hers. When she dug the key out, she had another thought. "Want to come up? Have a nightcap? Drinking alone is not only the road to ruin, it's damn lonely." "Don't want to wake Fred." "Fred is old news." She was glad, most ways. And she was glad to let Paul know. Then she shook herself mentally. Paul didn't care. She was a coworker, not a date. "Sorry to hear that." Actually, he wasn't. Before he was old news, Fred had been bad news. But the way to lose a friend was to criticize her taste in men. Besides, it would sound like he thought he would have been a better choice -- jealousy. And, although that was a little bit true, 'cause it was a little bit true, he didn't want to give her that idea. "I'd love a drink." Upstairs in the kitchen, she gave him a bottle of beer and a clean glass. With a lady, he would drink from a glass. "I gave him the gate," she said. "Too bad I gave him so much else first, but I got wise." "Never knew what you saw in him. 'Course I didn't see him all that much -- block party and company picnic." "You are the wrong sex to see his good points. He was good in bed -- a pig in the dining room, useless in the kitchen, but good in bed. After a while it wasn't enough. Why'm I telling you this? It's not like I'm drunk. I've barely started the first beer." "I asked. Maybe you're telling yourself. Maybe you're ready to tell someone, and I'm here. Trouble with swing shift. You don't have many people to talk to. Anyway, I can tell you, some of the guys were jealous of him. Lots of guys like your looks." Especially your's truly. But I'm in your apartment drinking your beer --furthest I've got. There's no sense in coming on too strong. "Don't seem to act on it." "Don't turn around fast when you've walked through the plant. You'd see a lot of guys looking your way. Gals make it hard on us. Say 'Hello gorgeous,' and I'm a pig that you'd never even talk to friendly. Don't say it, and I'm a guy who doesn't think you're gorgeous. Lose either way." "You really think I'm good looking?" "Fred break your mirrors? You should know you're good looking. You might be the prettiest girl in the plant, but you don't look approachable. Dot, now, gets more wolf whistles. That's 'cause Dot likes wolf whistles. You get told about available apartments. That way I get to see you in the neighborhood without you thinking I'm vulgar." And then she moved in with a handsome guy who dressed fancy. He got to see her being romantic with a guy he couldn't compete with. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." And he hasn't finished his beer, either. that can't be what's doing the talking. "As long as you think it's nice. I'd say a lot more if I thought you'd like it." "You could try and see." "Tell you what. Give me a take-back on the last one. I'll say things 'til you think it's no longer nice. Tell me, and we'll both forget the last one. Deal?" "Sounds like a deal." "You have a nice face." "I still like it." "That isn't what the guys look at, though." He paused for her to tell him he was out of line. "Sounds fascinating." She noticed he'd gone from what he liked to what 'the guys' liked. "We like -- uh -- what you're sitting on." she didn't look offended. "We look more at that than at your top, but that's partly 'cause you'd catch us looking at the front. I wouldn't say that to you in public, y'know. But I've said it to other guys. They sorta agreed." Whatever promises she made, he wasn't going to say 'great ass' to her face. So the guys liked her tits and ass. No great surprise. So did he, which was nice to know. How far would he go? How far did she want him to go? However glad she was to have seen the back of Fred, she missed him sometimes at this time of night. Then Paul got up. She was about to tell him that she wasn't offended. "Look," he asked. "Same deal? Take-backs on the last?" "Sure!" What would he say now? Instead of saying anything, he bent over and kissed her, full on the mouth! She got up. "Well, I've wanted to do that for a year. You said you'd let me take it back, and you'd forget it." Well she wasn't about to forget that kiss. "That was for only something I didn't like." She stood quietly and looked at him. He covered the inches between them and held her shoulders while he kissed her again. As he kissed her, his hands slowly strayed down her back. She didn't resist when he pulled her against him. When his hands got to her ass, he quickly brought them back to her waist. She felt her breasts pressed into his chest and him hardening against her stomach. He finally pulled back. "Want to take these into the living room?" she asked. "I don't care." Which wasn't really what he meant. If she was in the living room with him, he didn't care about the beer. He poured the last of the bottle into his glass and left it on the kitchen table when he followed her. She sat down on the couch, and spread some coasters around a coffee table in font of it. He put his glass on one coaster and sat down to her right on the couch. Both glasses and her bottle were sitting on the coasters and out of their hands. "Do you want another bottle?" she asked. She saw that his must be empty. "No." Now that he had her beside him, he sure didn't want her leaving him, even for that short a trip. He held her right hand in his. When she looked towards him, he leaned over for a kiss. He meant to make it easily avoidable, but she leaned towards him, too. The kiss was sweet. When she squeezed his hand, he dared to push his tongue towards hers. The touch of his tongue tip on hers gave Laura a surprising thrill. Had Fred's kisses been as sexy as this? When Paul moved back, she almost followed him. When he put his arm around her, she was glad she hadn't. "Laura." He was staring into her eyes. Such sexy eyes, and she looked so honest, too. She had a good butt and great boobs. What really distinguished her, however, was her sweet face. Even at the end of the shift, she looked fresh. He said her name and then sat looking at her. The fierce look frightened her, but she couldn't look away. When he finally pulled her into another kiss, she was glad to cooperate -- not only because of the kiss but because now she didn't have to meet his eyes. Meeting his tongue, now, that was sweet. And it was thrilling, carrying her away. She hadn't gone too far away to feel his hands stroke her breasts, but she'd gone far enough that this added to the thrill. "Oh Laura," he repeated when he moved back. Had he gone too far? Not from the look she gave him. He was intensely conscious of his prick hardening in his pants, uncomfortably so. But he wasn't about to turn from her to adjust it. Besides, he didn't want her to think that it was only his prick that wanted her. He pulled her close again to kiss all over her face. When he eased her back, it was to begin unbuttoning her shirt. Did she want this? He would stop if she told him to. But she didn't want him to stop -- pause, maybe, long enough for more kisses -- but definitely not stop. When her shirt was half unbuttoned, she started on his. Laura was accepting this. More than that, she acted as if she wanted him, too. When he got to the last button he could reach on her shirt, he pulled her into another kiss. He moved the kiss to the side of her face, her ear, the side of her neck, her shoulder. When he got to the bra strap, he pushed it down. He was in paradise until she pushed him back. Well, he'd said he would stop. But it was hard as hell to do so. Paul was wonderful at kisses. He wasn't so good at undressing a girl. This could take the rest of the night. She pushed him back to get her own clothes. She unbuckled her belt and loosened the waist of her slacks to free the last of the shirt. Then she got the last two buttons and removed the whole thing. Should she do the bra? Who was she fooling? Not him, certainly not herself. Paul watched her remove the bra with delight. Her breasts were all that he'd imagined. As she dropped the bra on the edge of the sofa behind her, he reached out to touch that magnificence. At first, he only traced a finger across the pale smoothness. When she turned towards him, he cupped one in the palm of his hand. So full! so soft, yet so firm! He lifted it slightly. The weight was nothing, yet he felt he was holding all of her in his hand. When she attacked his shirt again, he bent over to kiss that smoothness while unbuttoning his own shirt. For a while, the position hurt his prick. Then he took advantage of his positions's blocking her sight to adjust himself. Now, he was still swelling, but the prick was pointing straight up in his pants. The smoothness of her breast was no longer enough. He sucked the nipple. When he kissed her nipple, she felt the tingle down to her toes. She grabbed his ears to pull him against her breast. Then she stopped acting to feel. When he kissed his way to her right breast, the tingle in her belly turned to spreading warmth. She felt herself falling back, but it was no problem as long as Paul stayed with her. When she felt his mouth leave her breasts, she moaned in frustration. But he kissed a path up her neck to her mouth. Then he was lying over her. His tongue touched hers; his chest pressed against her breasts, the chest hair tickling her nipples; she could feel his hardness press against her belly. She wanted more. Her hands fumbled at his belt. He had the taste of Laura, the feel of Laura against his length. He wanted more; oh! how he wanted more. But some faction of his mind told him he couldn't have more. When he felt her hands at his belt he pulled back. ."Unless Fred left something," he said, "this should stop here. I don't have anything. I stopped carrying them in my wallet years ago." "What are you talking about?" It had been so fine a minute ago. She'd been ready for him. Now, he wanted a discussion. "I don't have any contraceptives. Did Fred leave any behind?" Not that he wanted to use anything from Fred, let alone something so personal. But he would ache so hard he'd limp every step home if he had to leave now. "I'm on the pill." She couldn't believe he thought she'd leave something like that to Fred. Fred! She'd lost her mind for a while, but she hadn't lost it that much. "Well, then. . . Or have I ruined it?" Ruined his one chance at Laura. Still, he couldn't put her at risk. "Well. . . " She had come down. On the other hand, he looked even better like this than he did with his shirt on. And he had thought of her. He'd thought she'd been stupid, but he'd wanted to protect her from her stupidity. She'd had enough of a man who took selfish control. Maybe it was time for a man who took responsibility. Besides, she could see that he was still hard; she wanted to feel that hardness where it mattered. "Maybe, since we've taken a break, we could go where we'd be more comfortable." Was her room neat enough? For a man, a man with a hardon? Any room with a bed was neat enough. She wasn't throwing him out! He followed her into her bedroom. Some clothes were scattered about and two dresser drawers were open. The bed wasn't made. The only messy room in Laura's apartment was neater than the neatest room in his. Still, she clearly hadn't expected anyone to see it. That expressed a sort of trust in him which made him love her more. Of course, anything Laura did with her shirt off would make him love her. "I wasn't expecting company," she said. Man with a hardon or not, she felt she needed to apologize. "I'm glad," he said. It wasn't quite what he meant, but it got him a smile. When he went forward, she lifted her face for another kiss. It started sweet, lips barely touching lips. It turned hot. His tongue explored her mouth, and he crushed her to him. She had her arms around him and was hugging as hard as he was. He felt his hardon pressed against her, her sweet breasts mashed into his chest. It was that last thought which made him relax his grip. "Maybe we should get the rest off," she said, "at least shoes." She wasn't going to try to get grease from the plant out of her nice flowered sheets. She sat down on the bed. He looked around and found a chair. Her shoes were off before his. She hesitated, then undid her belt and work pants. He went further, Stripping off socks and, then, his pants. When he stood, she couldn't keep her eyes off his shorts barely covering the cock straining against them. When he strode toward her, Laura stood up. This kiss began hot. He pulled her against him and felt all of her glorious skin pressed against his. He worked one hand under her panties to cup her butt, then both. When he stepped back, it was to pull them down. That hair was beautiful, and the mound it covered was lovely, as well. "You're gorgeous," he said. When he shoved her gently, she sat on the bed. He bent down to pull her panties off. Then he lifted her legs to swing her onto the bed. She scooted to the other side. He lay down on the offered space. He kissed her face and then her breasts. He couldn't keep his hand off that beauty. When he stroked her mound, she opened her legs in acceptance. He was right next to her, touching her length. Then, he was kissing her deeply while his fingers went to her center. Soon, he had her soaring. She exploded, but he didn't stop. She exploded again. She reached for him and met cloth. She tore her mouth away from his. "You!" she said. He didn't need any more invitation. He stripped off his shorts and climbed over her legs. She reached out to guide him in. The touch of her hands was delightful, but couldn't match the touch of her lower lips around the tip of his prick. As he moved forward, he felt her smooth warmth slide around all of him. He stopped for a second when he was fully buried in her to savor the sweetness surrounding him. But that very sweetness forced him to move. She'd missed this, the fullness, the body stretched over hers, the strokes deep within. And she had this warmth, this fullness, from Paul. She thought for one minute that it came with kind words and consideration. Then she soared away again. She broke through the ceiling, the very sky. She was soaring in brightness when she fell. It was a long drop, but she landed on her own bed and in Paul's arms. He tried to hold back. He wanted to savor the sweetness forever, but he was driven to move faster and faster. When she clutched around him, he lost it completely. He drove in, pressed against her and into her, and pulsed and pulsed. "Laura!" he cried. Then he collapsed. She heard her name called from a distance, and then she was holding him. She was holding him in her arms, and -- sweetly -- in her cunt. The second containment became less and less secure as he slipped out. The first changed from a pleasure to a burden. "Sorry," he said. He was crushing her sweet breasts again. Crushing her ribs probably, too. He moved off and then lay beside her touching everywhere he could. When she put out a hand, he held it. "I can't believe," she said, "you'd think I would leave that to Fred. "Look at my belly." He looked. As a matter of fact, he looked at her from head to toe -- or, at least, to thigh. She watched his gaze cover her, but didn't object. "Sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot, lately. On the other hand, the view was spectacular. "Did you really carry them in your wallet?" "In high school, I carried one in my wallet. One for three years. I didn't meet any girls on the pill back then. Really. as far as I got, they might all have been on the pill. I bought the rubbers in my freshman year, and got inside a girl's bra in my senior year. I was prepared for more success than I got." "A boy scout is always prepared." "Yeah. I should keep a lifeboat in my apartment in case of floods reaching the third floor." "Stay here?" She wanted his warmth beside her all night. "You're sure?" He didn't want to leave. He wanted to feel her beside him. But he didn't want to outstay his welcome. "I'm sure. You stay here while I get the lights." And he got to watch Laura move around the room and out the door naked. She was just as beautiful coming back, Then the light went out and he felt her warmth again. "Move over," she said. "This is my side of the bed." He moved over, gave her lots of room, felt her pull up the covers and slide in beside him. Then he reached over to hug her. "Is this all right?" She'd told him to move away, after all. "Delightful." She was held in strong arms, but she was cherished rather than owned. |
The end Swing Shift Swing Uther Pendragon nogardnePrethU@gmail.com 2010/03/27 For another story involving friends taking the step beyond friendship, "Honey Bee" The directory to all my stories can be found at: Index to Uther Pendragon's Website |