Eating Elise

All characters are fictional and over the age of 18.

Leslie decided to clear her head by going to the makeshift gym at her crowded, no-frills airport hotel. Seeing all the treadmills in use by her fellow stranded, exercise-starved hotel guests forced her to go for a run outside.

She lacked the proper clothing for a cold weather run, and there were no runner friendly routes on the maze of highway ramps and access roads around the airport.

"Fuck it," she thought. She needed a workout—more for her mind than her body—so she headed outside in her running shorts with bare legs and a thin, long sleeved quarter zip athletic top.

The frigid air hit her poorly dressed frame like a brick wall as she exited the lobby and started running away from the hotel. Her goose bump covered toned legs shivered before she found her pace on a half decent shoulder on the road leading away from the hotel parking lot.

Leslie was obsessed with running. On the days she didn't run, she was cross training at the gym or doing yoga. A few years younger than her husband Marty, and a couple inches shorter at about 5'4", Leslie had a body that stopped men—and many women-- in their tracks.

Loose, natural curls of auburn hair graced her shoulders and accented her hazel eyes perfectly. She had full, red lips with her lower lip on her left side having a slight "bee stung" appearance, which is what attracted her husband Marty to her decades ago. She would casually bite that particular portion of lip when seducing Marty, knowing it drove him crazy.

Her skin was light tan with innumerable faint freckles that were especially populous on her high cheeks and on her chest, creating a meandering path between her tear-drop shaped breasts. Her thighs were full and beautiful thanks to her dedication to fitness.

In short, Leslie Graham was singularly beautiful.

She tried her best to think of anything other than Elise Palmer as she racked up the grey, featureless miles. Her running shoes pounded the road as if she were punishing the cold asphalt itself for existing in her world.

She ran and ran until her watch informed her that she had ran five miles. Five long miles separated her from her board like hotel bed where, just about an hour earlier, she came hard while masturbating to visions of the tryst between her husband of more than 20 years and the 18 year old daughter of their friends Jim and Erica Palmer.

It wasn't the fact that Elise was so transparent about her sexual desires to her husband Marty, and then to Leslie herself a day later. It wasn't even the fact that Leslie allowed—actually encouraged—her middle-aged husband to perform oral sex on the teen and then to fuck her in their marriage bed.

And it wasn't that while Leslie went on her run, cock hungry Elise would be swallowing her husband's cum, probably in their kitchen.

The reason for her onslaught of emotions and her subsequent need to be gone from the hotel was simply this:

Leslie wanted Elise. Leslie thought back to countless times since Elise turned 18 where she caught herself admiring her. In fact, the belated 18th birthday thrown by her parents was the first time Leslie truly noticed how beautiful Elise was.

Many times since that hot summer evening, Leslie thought that maybe, just maybe, Elise had been subtly flirting with her during the party. Logic would quickly suffocate such thoughts. But now, with Elise spending weekend at her home and with Leslie's permission, fucking, getting fucked, eating, and getting eaten by her husband. Perhaps Elise's discreet advances were real. Perhaps Marty was a means to an end.

As Leslie's run ended and she entered the lobby of her hotel, passing by inebriated stranded travelers at the bar, her phone buzzed with a text alert.

The text was from none other than Elise Palmer.

"Hi, Mrs. Graham. I just wanted to say "thank you" for this weekend. I can't believe I'm texting this....but thanks to Marty (and you) I feel like a new person. What you've allowed him—us--to do has changed me in so many ways. I know what I want now....and how I want it...so thank you for that."

Leslie smiled as she read the text, but with her smile came a hint of melancholy mixed with jealousy. Marty had been intimate with Elise, multiple times in 24 hours. In fact, as Leslie read Elise's text, maybe she was sliding under him in their bed, their clothes cast to the side under the impossibly thick comforter. Her full, sculpted thighs wrapping around him as he fed his cock into her wanting hole.

Leslie broke her daydreaming with a quick text response to Elise.

"Honey, that brings me joy. The past couple days have allowed you to mature in ways that take most women decades, if they're lucky. I admire you asking for what you want...not just asking...but going out and getting it. I'm glad you found that fulfillment."

Leslie paused before typing the next text to Elise.

"Are you ready to take what you've learned about your sexual needs back to your boyfriend?"

Leslie saw the "..." appear on her screen several times and disappear as she made her way back to her hotel room. Elise was formulating a response of some kind, but must have been repeatedly changing her mind—deleting and re-typing.

Leslie was changing out of her running clothes when her phone rang on the hotel room bed. It was Elise. She climbed onto the bed wearing only her sports bar and answered the call.

"Elise...Hi....everything OK?" Leslie asked, curious as to why Elise chose to call her rather than text.

"Yes, Mrs. Graham.....Leslie....I'm fine. Everything is fine. Marty is just shoveling the driveway. I'm relaxing on the couch."

Leslie's mind escaped to a vision of Elise cuddled up on her great room sectional.

"What are you doing, Leslie?" Elise asked.

"I just got back from a run. There's nothing to do here. I can work, drink at the bar, or exercise. So I went for a run," Leslie replied.

"How far did you go?" Elise queried.

"Too far, honey. About 10 miles. I like going a little too far than I should. I'm kind of obsessed unfortunately," Leslie answered, looking down at her sweat covered body.

"Obsessions are not bad things, right?" Elise's voice became softer, as if Marty could suddenly hear her. "Sometimes it's OK to go a little too far."

"No, no. I just tend to take things a little farther than I should, Elise. But there's nothing else to do here, as I said."

Leslie had no idea where the conversation was going, but she was happy to at least be conversing with another adult, even if that adult was less than half her age. As they spoke, Leslie continued to imagine Elise's perfect body reclined on her couch. She hoped Elise's scent would remain throughout her home after Leslie returned. Leslie imagined herself burying her face in the spot on her bed where Elise came the first time, Elise's musk, immeshed in the thick flannel sheets, intoxicating her.

Leslie kneeled in the middle of her hotel room bed as she conversed with Elise. She decided to take a risk with the 18 year-old on the other end of the phone.

"Elise," Leslie spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing her words carefully. Her heart began to race as she stepped into the unknown, acting on her own intuition.

"Yes, Mrs. Graham?"

"Elise...what do you mean by that? I was talking about my running. Sometimes I run a little too far." Leslie found her self recoiling, hesitating to take the conversation in the direction she desired.

"I understand, Mrs. Graham. No worries," Elise responded, her tone flat.

There was an expectant silence on each end of the call.

"Is there something else you were referring to, Elise?"

There was another pause on the other end of the line.

"Maybe," answered Elise, her voice now barely a whisper.

"What would that be, Elise?"

"It's hard to say, Mrs. Graham....Leslie. I've never spoken about it....I wanted to take something....too far....once...."

"It's OK, honey. You don't have to if you're not comfortable."

"I can't imagine being comfortable with anyone other than you, Leslie. You've been so helpful to me this weekend, even though you're far away." Elise cleared her throat.

"I snuck away...from.....from my party," Elise began. "Remember my 18th birthday party? It was actually in the summer—a few months after I turned 18."

Leslie felt a warmth in her pelvis as Elise's narrative slowly began to unfold.

"I do, Elise. Why....." Leslie took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Why did you sneak away, honey?" Leslie asked.

"I was with someone. It was someone I shouldn't have been with." Elise sounded timid and remorseful.

There was silence again, which Leslie allowed for a moment before continuing her gentle interrogation.

"Where did you sneak off to, Elise?"

There was another pause. Elise cleared her throat again.

"My bedroom. No one even noticed. Most of the guests were drunk, except for me and...."

"You don't need to tell me who it was that you wanted to sneak away with, honey," Leslie assured her.

"Thank you, Leslie." Elise stammered but sounded relieved to not have to disclose the identity of her companion.

"I was in a blue bikini with a matching cover-up. You probably don't remember what I was wearing at the party," Elise giggled.

"You...looked...so....beautiful, honey. I think remember that blue bikini," Leslie replied, as if she was struggling to recall a hazy memory from months past. In truth, the image of Elise in the electric blue string bikini was seared into her memory. The thong bikini bottom that showcased her ass was outdone only by the triangle of thin material in front that minimally concealed her pubic mound, leaving no question that she was completely shaved. The matching short sleeved cover up barely went to her upper thighs.

Leslie remembered Elise slipping on the cover up as the sun began to set over the party. Her thighs and shoulders bore a light sheen of pink sunburn on her tan skin.

"Why did you take the guest to your bedroom, Elise?"

"There was a connection. Well, I thought there was. I wanted to.....They wanted to...I hoped. It didn't really happen but I wanted it to, Leslie. I wanted to so bad. "

"What did you want? Can I ask you that? Can you tell me what you wanted?"

Leslie could hear Elise take a breath at the other end of the line.

"We're on my bed," Elise began. "We faced each other on our knees at first, and then, they lifted my cover-up over me and came around behind me. They gently tied the cover up over my eyes."

Leslie noticed that Elise used the word "they" as she revealed her fantasy. The warmth in her pelvis grew.

"You were blindfolded? Did you like that, Elise?"

"Yes!" Elise answered without hesitation. "It wasn't tight. It was barely on, but I couldn't see anything."

"What happened next?"

"They stayed behind me—their chest was against my back, their thighs along the outside of mine. Their fingers grazed my shoulders and went down my arms...slowly...softly...like they were touching someone for the first time...like they were learning me...savoring me. That probably doesn't make sense."

"It certainly does," Leslie reassured her. "Touching another person for the first time is.....special, Elise." Leslie imagined the guest behind Elise, their bodies perfectly matched, the skin to skin contact of chest to back and thigh to thigh was electrifying for both.

Elise continued, "They placed my hair over my left shoulder while placing soft kisses on my right. I could feel goosebumps form over my exposed shoulders."

"Where are their hands now, Elise?" Leslie inquired.

"Undoing my bikini top. They untied the string in the back, and it fell to my lap. I can feel my exposed nipples harden in the light breeze from the open window."

Leslie marveled at the detail of the fantasized encounter.

"They kissed along the side of my neck as their hands explored my breasts. They gently squeezed my nipples between their fingers..." Leslie could sense Elise's breath quickening on the other end of the line.

"Then their hands travelled down. I could feel fingers wrapping around my bikini bottom. I came up on my knees and they slid the bottom down my thighs, just to my knees. I sat back down with the bikini bottom bunched up around my knees."

Leslie closed her eyes. The picture being painted by Elise was almost too much. She fondled her breasts as Elise made the picture more vivid in Leslie's mind. Leslie imagined each element in exquisite detail, down to the bunched up bikini bottom around Elise's knees as the party guest's hands wandered over her young body.

Elise continued, "They paused. Their hands were on my hips. I could sense hesitation. Maybe they were having second thoughts? I turned my head towards them. We kissed. Our tongues met and danced and swirled while their hands covered my thighs, exploring...savoring...all of them....from my knees to my outer thighs....to my inner thighs.

Leslie swallowed hard as visions of Elise getting explored from behind by her new lover flooded her mind. Her need to bear her deepest desires to Elise grew stronger while her restraint suffocated under a blanket of lust.

"Please......Elise....go on.....what.....what happened next.....honey?" Leslie could hardly bear it. Her fingers trailed down her toned abdomen, over her short crop of pubic hair, and lightly traced the contour of her folds, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her core. Leslie gasped.

"Are you OK, Mrs. Graham?" Elise asked, sounding startled.

"Yes, I'm fine," Leslie answered, breathless.

"Tell me, Mrs. Graham," Elise asked softly.

Leslie paused in disbelief. Was Elise actually asking her what she would do? Before she could process the question, Elise asked again.

"Leslie.....tell me....tell me what you would do next?

Elise's words hung like a dense, hot fog. Leslie could barely speak. The last shreds of good judgement clinging for life as her resistance breathed its last.

Elise continued slowly her voice husky, "What would you do to me? Your breasts against my back, your thighs flanking my own, your lips on my neck, goosebumps covering my shoulders, your hands traveling slowly up my thighs.....What would you do, Leslie?"

"Tell me, honey," Elise pleaded softly over the phone, "before Marty comes back in. Tell me, please."

The role was reversed. Elise's use of the nickname "honey" put Leslie over the edge. Even though Elise was blindfolded and vulnerable in the fantasy, her desire to dominate Leslie was evident. She now had the upper hand as Leslie stepped into Elise's birthday fantasy.

"I.....I....." Leslie stammered, barely able to speak.

"Tell me," Elise insisted. "I'm so wet for you.''

"But Elise, we shouldn't....." Leslie's attempts at logic were futile.

"That's why we should, Leslie.....please....touch me....wherever you want...do whatever you want. Please.....I need you.....I want you.....so so bad."

"I'd step down off the bed, Elise." Leslie's tone was matter-of-fact and cold.

"You would?" Elise's disappointment was palpable.

"I would, honey." Leslie remained steadfast in her tone.

"Oh....but why?" Elise pleaded.

"Because you forgot to lock your bedroom door, Elise. We wouldn't want to be interrupted, would we?"

And with that, Leslie was finished. She breathed deeply and let every deep, dark desire for Elise out, melding her own fantasy with that of Elise.

An intangible energy transported Leslie to Elise's room with her cheerleading and dance plaques on the walls and the white 4 poster bed with pink sheets in the center. A cool summer evening breeze meandered around their sun-kissed bodies. The inebriated guests just a few feet down from the open window were oblivious to the encounter between the 40 something and the almost 19 year-old commencing in the bedroom above.

"You hear the click of the lock," Leslie spoke slowly, "and a moment later feel me join you again on your bed. It looks so innocent—your bed—all pink and white."

Leslie continued, "I'm facing you in the middle of your bed. Our knees our barely touching. You can almost make out my silhouette through your blindfold. Though it's been less than I minute, I long to touch you again. My hands are on your thighs. I am nibbling your upper lip. You taste more delicious than I could have ever imagined."

Elise's breath was ragged on the other end of the line.

"I lay you back on your bed and slide the bikini bottom down past your knees and over your calves kissing your beautiful silky smooth skin as I slide them down. You straighten your legs perfectly, like a ballerina, as I strip you completely naked on your bed."

"You feel me on top of you. I pass the bikini bottom over your blindfolded face. We breathe in your musk in together before I raise your arms over your head and bind your wrists—gently—with the bikini bottom."

"Oh, Leslie.....fuck....." Elise struggled to get words out between her ragged breaths.

"Now you are completely mine, Elise. And I can do with you what I want."

"Please, Leslie....please make me come....." begged sweet Elise over the phone, hundreds of miles away from the hotel room of Leslie Graham.

"After tying you up, I start a path of soft kisses from the insides of your wrists, down your forearms and along your upper arms. Your arms are toned but the skin is the softest thing I have ever touched."

"I nibble along the outer rim of your ear while I whisper to you. I tell you how bad I want you. I whisper the unspeakable intimate things we'll do..."

Elise was panting on the other end of the phone. "Fuck.....fuck...fuck," she repeated over and over as Leslie unfolded her side of the fantasy.

We kiss softly at first, savoring each other's full lips before kissing deeply, allowing our tongues to swirl and explore and taste."

"My journey continues down the front of your neck and shoulders. A fresh cop of goosebumps greets my lips and tongue. Your breasts sit perfectly and beckon me. I give equal attention to both, caressing and kissing and playfully licking every curve and leaving each nipple firm and glistening in the cool summer evening breeze."

"I trace your toned stomach with the tip of my tongue and kiss around your navel. Your musk permeates my senses and makes me want to devour you but I resist—coming up on my knees as you straighten your legs again in front of me. I make love to each glorious leg, taking my time with each thigh, my penultimate prize, leaving not even the smallest curve unexplored by my mouth or hands."

"I come up on my knees once more to admire your body bound and bearing a sheen of my saliva. I want you to see me, to touch me. I unbind your wrists and then undo your blindfold. You see me kneeling between your spread legs."

Leslie paused.

"Then I strip for you. I'm in a navy bikini. I pull the top over my head and toss it to the side. I then slide the bottoms down. The dark navy hides the wet spot that had been collecting my juices as I explored you. I bunch them up and toss them on your chest. Unbound, you pick them up and place them over your face, taking the center into your mouth, tasting me for the first time. It's the most erotic thing I have ever seen."

"We're both naked. It's time. I take the bathing suit bottom from your mouth and kiss you, tasting myself in your mouth you as I cover you with my body. The total body skin to skin contact is electric."

"My pussy grinds against yours, our bodies coupled as if lock and key. Our heart rates synchronize. Our breaths fall in sequential order, as if I am feeding oxygen to you and you to me."

"Our bodies find a rhythm, as we edge each other closer—the pace slows when one approached the precipice, prolonging...accentuating....elevating...delivering indescribable sensations to us."

"My forehead rests on yours as we journey together in the warm darkness. We kiss, but mostly listen and feel each other's breath on our lips in the quiet of the bedroom."