Professionals with Benefits

I sat back down on the sofa, looked up at Peter.

"Where were we?" I asked. Peter smiled, plopped down beside me. I sighed as his hand again found my breast, this time without pretense or delay. His thumb and forefinger pinched my nipple, gently, then moved to enfold the entire boob with long fingers.

The soldier's face was full of love, of amusement, but also, clearly to my eyes, intense desire. The naked woman stopped spinning, stood facing him. Mischief in her eyes, she knelt in front of him, lifted her sun-brushed breasts with her hands to display the silver disc. Better now?

The man's laughter was happy, hearty; his eyes lingered on her full hands and the pink nipples between her fingers. He pulled her up with his one good arm, towards his head. She rose, met his lips with hers. The kiss grew deeper, harder. When, a minute later, she lowered herself back to a kneeling position, I could see her nipples were hard, could see the flush on her face, the pulse in her throat.

And the hardness inside his trousers.

I slid my hand up along Peter's bare thigh, again found his manhood, uncovered, no longer captive. As my fingers traced their way up his shaft, Peter's hand on my boob hesitated for a second, restarted.

The soldier spoke again. The girl's head tilted to one side as she pondered whatever he had said. She nodded, reached behind her head, pulling loose her hair from a still-fashionable tuck. Shaking her head set her hair loose, falling to cover her shoulders. She brushed it off her face, looked at him with a smile. Satisfied?

The grin on the man's face was a clear answer. Her eyes were fixed on his face as his fingers moved to the silver disc, adjusted how it lay on her chest. She gave a slight gasp as his palm slid under the silver, cupped a breast, moved to the other, squeezed gently.

His hands continued to flow over her body as she again rose into a lingering kiss, growing stronger, more passionate with every second. Her left hand resting on his knee for balance, her right began to run over his clothed body. Her fingers undid a shirt button, then another, slid inside to caress his chest.

Peter's cock twitched in my hand. I felt a weight in my stomach, a wetness in my ladybits. I began to drag the soft, soft skin over its granite core, back and forth.

On-screen, the girl pulled back from man's embrace. Another quick look around showed they were still alone and her hands now rose to the man's clothing. His tie took but a moment, the remainder of his shirt buttons scarcely longer. Pushing the straps of his suspenders off his shoulders, she eased off his shirt sleeve from his unwounded side.

She looked up at him, gave her own command. The man rose to his feet; her fingers flew to the buttons of his trousers. The trousers fell around his ankles, followed in a moment by his under-drawers. His cock waved in the warm air, red, hard.

She offered him a hand, helped him sit down again on the bench, pulled away clothing and shoes from his feet. The man was dressed now only in bandages and his officer's cap. Freshly-healed, no-longer-bandaged wounds could be seen on his left leg. The girl leaned forward, kissed them gently.

She ran her hand along his length, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as his hand swept through her hair.

She pushed his legs apart, moved in to kneel closer to him. Her right hand closed on his shaft as her mouth came down over his crown.

I watched, my own arousal growing, as she began to pump his shaft in time with her head bobbing up and down over his mushroom. Her cheeks were hollow with suction; I could see a bulge in her cheek as his head moved inside her mouth.

Somebody had once told me that oral sex should be more than an obligation; it should be a work of art. This one, I thought, certainly was. Her eyes as she worked him were locked on his. From time to time, she would pull back, continue her pumping with her right hand, and smile up at her man. It was clear she was enjoying what she was doing. What man,  I thought, wouldn't find that super-satisfying?

"Peter," I whispered, my eyes still on the screen.

"Mmm?" His fingers tickled my nipple, pulled it, squeezed it. It hard to not moan.

On-screen, the girl paused, reached up, took the officer's cap and set it on her head. He laughed, closed his eyes as she bent to pleasuring him again. Her tongue swirled around his head, sharp teeth nipped gently along his shaft, soft fingers teased and stroked his heavy twins.

"Peter..." I hesitated as his knowing, magical fingers swept over me, bringing me higher and higher.

"Peter, I want that."

His fingers paused.

"What?'

"I want to be doing that. To you. Now. But I need to..."

"What happened to professionalism?" he asked, a wry smile on his face.

I giggled, squeezed his cock.

"Maybe this is the new professionalism, Pete?"

He joined me in laughter.

The soldier's expression was one of delight, of anticipation, of love. In his present state, there was little he could do to reciprocate, so his hand continued to sweep her head, her hair.

After a few minutes, his good hand came up, pushed her head back. She leaned back, an impish grin on her face. Her hand continued to work his organ, but slower.

This could hardly be her first time, I thought. No, she was more daring, more skilled, more enthusiastic than many girls in my own time. Now her left hand left his sac, slipped between her legs, emerged with her fingers glistening with her own dew. The man watched, almost puzzled, as her hand passed between her breasts, wiping her slickness between them.

And again.

Peter's hand lifted off my boob, off my shoulder, slid down between us, traced along my inner thighs. My tummy shivered at his touch.

The girl leaned forward, guided her lover's member to between her now-slippery cleavage and began to rock up and down, shifting her breasts over his hard length. The man closed his eyes, concentrating on the exquisite sensation as soft boobflesh engulfed and stroked his manhood. Her hands pushed her breasts together, increasing the pressure on him. I could see him sigh with delight.

"Oh, god," Peter whispered at the sight.

"That, too," I promised softly. "I want that, too. I want to watch your face as I do that to you."

I gulped as Peter's fingers found their target, one sliding gently between my swollen, slippery lower lips. I tried to keep my eyes on the screen, started pumping Peter's shaft more quickly.

The boy on the screen began to quiver, his thighs tightening. The woman pulled back, leaned down to give his engorged head a quick kiss. She rose to her feet, found the blanket and laid it out on the grass.

It was clear that the man's wounds would not permit him to support his own weight on both arms. The woman, smiling at him, pulled him to his feet and helped him to lie down on the blanket. His cock swayed, shining in the sunshine. Looking around, she found her dress, rolled it up as a pillow and rested his head on it.

She straddled the man, holding his hardness to guide him into her cleft. The expression on his face as she lowered herself over him was, I thought, about the happiest thing I'd seen in my entire life, an exoneration, an exorcism of whatever muddy demons might haunt his nights.

The expression on his face turned to bliss when, her pussy still wrapped around his organ, being careful of his injured arm, she bent her torso forward onto his, took his head in her hands. Oh, there was passion in their kiss -- how not? But it was one of love, of devotion, of total commitment to a lover's welfare and happiness. Under the direction of Smith's studio crew, it was an utterly fulfilling, intoxicating moment, a brilliant blend of sex and love.

I felt my own arousal catch fire as Peter's finger found my clit, started to swirl gently around it, gently probing its hooded wetness.

The woman broke the kiss, sat up, lifted her hips until his crown was just visible. Then slowly down again, her eyes fixed on his.

As the boy's smile grew, as the girl could see she was not hurting him, her movements became faster, more forceful. Lifting with her knees, faster and faster, she let herself drop onto him, harder and harder into her welcoming depths.

Her hands roamed over his chest as she bobbed on him, her breasts bouncing, her hair swinging. His right hand came up, captured one breast, squeezed, shifted to the other. Her eyes were closed now in concentration, her mouth partially open. Her body started to shimmy as his length stretched her sex again and again.

"Fuck this!" I hissed. I slithered out of Peter's grip, stepped to behind the sofa, bent down over it, facing the screen.

A puzzled expression on his face for a second, Peter's head then came up, turned for my lips, hard, demanding, needy. I leaned down to him, did my best before I broke away.

"Get back here, Pete, before I go crazy. We can both watch from here."

It didn't take him long. I spread my legs to give him better access, tried to keep my eyes on the wash.

I felt Peter's blunt head probe my pussy, adjust slightly and then slide home, filling me in one long, smooth push of his hips. I felt like crying, it was that good.

In front of me, the girl's orgasm hit her like a meteorite. I could see the flush on her chest and cheeks as she rocked, slowing now, feeling it roll over her in all its overwhelming majesty.

The soldier, grinning at the sight, released her breast with his hand, grabbed her bum and, fingers deep in her firm flesh, began thrusting upwards with his hips.

The girl's eyes popped open at the new sensation, a second orgasm clearly upon her. Her fingernails dug into his chest as the boy's body stiffened, his own eyes tightly closed now. I could see veins pulsing on his forehead. In a moment, the woman's body collapsed softly onto his. His arm fondled her back and bum, softly, lovingly.

The wash video ended. I closed my mouth with a snap.

Peter's pole began to surge inside me. His hands dug into my own bum as he came, shuddering, bent forward to rest his chest on my back. I felt my own orgasm explode within me, engulfing me in its intensity.

I stood there, pinned between Peter and the sofa, impaled on his cock, hearing him gasping above me.

In a bit, softening, Peter gathered me up into his arms. He carried me into a bedroom; which one hardly mattered. The whole 'two bedrooms' concept was utterly unimportant now.

When I awoke a million years later, it was to see Peter sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiled tenderly, ran his hand down my arm before reaching out and holding out a drink for me.

I don't think I've ever been that thirsty. I guzzled it, handed it back and, hardly a lady now, wiped my lips on the back of my wrist.

Looking up at him, I found I had no idea what so say. Instead, I shifted over so that I was able to rest my head on his bare lap. I smiled at two combined scents.

Then I knew.

"I could get used to your style of professionalism, Pete," I said softly. I smiled as I felt his hand on my hair. His grin was amazing.

An airplane flew overhead, bringing me back. I found that the inevitability of the flight home was less worrisome than before.

I kissed Peter's hand, rolled my head to one side. My tongue tip found his softened crown, licked it gently.

Airplanes would wait and I had promises to keep.