Tracy Does Tom

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Tom hadn’t changed a bit since the last time we’d had one of Rob’s family garden barbecues. It’s not often we get the chance with British weather being what it is. You can’t plan anything as you can pretty much guarantee it will bucket down with rain if you do, and if you try and arrange things on the spur of the moment after a positive weather forecast then chances are that everybody you invite will have already buggered off to the beach to make the most of the rare sunshine. This was our second attempt at a barbecue this year ( the first having been rained off) but this one fortunately had a reasonably good turnout. And Tom was here again. Thank fuck it wasn’t a grand prix weekend or he’d have been a no show and, speaking quite selfishly, that would have been gutting. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I had, but I couldn’t help myself. Hot day, cool beer, the frustrations of an undersexed woman drowned in alcohol that made the object of my unrequited lust – my husband’s own younger brother – even more alluring than he had been the last time I had nearly unleashed myself upon him.

That had been a close call. Then I had been perhaps not quite so drunk but a little more desperate after another month without any sexual attention whatsoever from my own goddamn husband, and a careless brush past in the kitchen on the way to the bathroom had started this fire burning. I had been bent down leaning into the freezer for more sausages for the barbecue, and when I stepped back I bumped into him, almost fell, and it was only his reflexes and his strong arms that saved me from falling on my ass. Instead I felt his groin pressing against my curvy butt and one of his hands was accidentally gripping my left tit. Had he felt the nipple harden? I had been asking myself that question at least three nights a week ever since as my fingers silently diddled my clit while my husband snored beside me, his brother’s face haunting my increasingly lewd erotic dreams. Had I felt Tom stiffen in arousal against my ass, had his fingers lingered just a heartbeat longer than was necessary against my breast, or was it all just wishful thinking coloured by the passage of time and the increased longing that I felt as my pent up sexual frustrations reached a lifetime peak?

The drink definitely was not helping. While my husband happily tossed burgers over on the grill, laughing with family members I could barely remember the names of, I was sat alone under a sunbrella shading myself from the heat while the rest of the sun worshippers soaked it up. Rob wore his baggy white t-shirt as defence against the spits and spurts of fat from the barbecue, but I could barely take my eyes off his bare chested brother, all glistening muscle and sinew as he wound his way through family and friends. He moved with an effortless grace, an economy of motion that was almost balletic, but unmistakeably masculine. Biceps flexed as he raised a bottle to his lips, pectorals tightened as he tipped back his head, his ‘six-pack’ rippling as he gulped down an ice cold Magners. My sex dampened just looking at him.

What made it worse was that Rob knew. Me and my big fucking mouth! Another pillow time argument escalated into impotence accusations, tearful demands to know if I no longer turned on my own husband, and a blurted confession that the most exciting sexual experience I’d had all year was his brother’s hands inadvertently groping my tits. Then silence. Days of it. And nothing had improved. Things were still just as bad between the sheets but now I knew better and kept my mouth shut and fingered myself with my back turned, a guilty tear rolling down a cheek after a muted, bit-lipped half climax. God how I needed a good, hard, ass wobbling pounding with a cock that could go the distance, and then maybe go another distance again. And then wake me up in the morning hard between my cum soaked butt cheeks ready for another dive into the pit of my lusts. Fat chance in this marriage. I sensed Rob’s eyes on me as I slowly drowned my sorrows, alert to my fragile state of mind and wary of me making some drunken accusation that would only embarrass and humiliate him in front of his own family. And his brother. I sensed his eyes on me, too. Too many times he’d caught me gazing at his sculpted body as if in another world and I’d had to avert my gaze reflexively. I’ve no class at all. I make everything so fucking obvious.

So there I sat, a sexually frustrated thirty-something housewife desperate to feel her brother-in-law’s thick, hard meat in her belly. Well, anybodies meat to be perfectly frank, but Tom just made those juices flow so easily. Rob knew that I ached to be fucked silly by his kid brother and after my display today I was pretty sure that Tom knew, too. Maybe that’s what they were laughing at, I thought miserably as another slug of lager sloshed down my throat. Poor Tracy. Getting older, carrying perhaps a coupla pounds more than she should do, sagging a fraction with age, the beginnings of lines and creases forming illegal bahis in the usual places, dressed in a short denim skirt for the fleeting summer and a bikini top that hid more than it revealed. Poor Tracy. Fire between her legs that burned hotter than the mid-day son and nobody willing to stick the hose in and quench the flames with floods of semen.

Aargghhh I seethed inwardly as that lewd image flickered through my mind. Bastards. Both of them. Still laughing, both offering me nothing more than fleeting glances of disdain as Rob tossed his burgers and Tom dropped his empty bottle into the overflowing recycling bucket with a clinkety racket that made me wince. Mine was empty, too I realised, so I got up and strode past them to the fridge in the kitchen for another, studiously avoiding even looking at them. “Okay, Trace?” Rob asked, but I just waved him away. Things would be a little better after another beer or two. Or maybe even three. I felt like getting pissed and bollocks to what his family thought of that. If they needed to ask why I had turned to drink then perhaps I’d tell them.

The kitchen was cool, dark, the sun not yet having burned through the window and warmed the place to a level that competed with the outdoors. I flung the fridge door open with a bang and drew another bottle of Becks from the dozens that remained, hearing the back door to the garden close behind me. I turned, picking up the bottle opener from the kitchen worktop and cracking the sixth of the day open, not realising in my tipsy state that I was not alone. A body silently brushed past me on the way to the fridge and I jumped.

“Sorry Tracy, didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom apologised. It would be Tom, wouldn’t it. Come to taunt me at Rob’s encouragement, perhaps. Poor Tracy. Go wind her up, see if her spring snaps. I didn’t bother to answer, just stared out the window at the garden party in progress, sneering as Rob jumped back from a sudden gout of flame as a burger discharged some greasy fat into the hot coals. Tom’s Irish cider cracked open with a half second hiss and I expected to hear the back door creak open and clunk shut but instead heard Tom’s voice by my side over the sink unit. “Nice and cool in here.” he murmured.

God, even his voice was arousing. Deep, yet almost musical with his thick accent. Like a Welsh baritone. “Nice and cool.” I nodded. Yeah, right. Slide your hand between my legs buster and you won’t think it’s so fucking cool. With that thought I felt my face flush. Too much, too fast I considered as I put my untouched beer on the worktop.

“Looks like Rob’s got things nicely under control out there.” Tom continued, making polite conversation. “Always nice to have a barbecue and let the man do the cooking for a change.”

“Yep, one thing about Rob you can never take away is that he’s a fuckin’ expert at burning beef burgers.” I smiled, then apologised for letting the swear word slip past my lips. Tom just laughed it off, claimed he hadn’t even noticed, that he heard much worse in work every thirty seconds as a builder. “Still, not very pleasant coming out of a ladies mouth.” I continued, blushing further.

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” He murmured, letting the statement hang there between us.

“True,” I conceded after a while. “There’s a place and a time for that language, though.” I heard the sounds of half a bottle of Magners being necked back behind me, then felt a tap on my rump as he said. “See you outside.” I half spun at the touch. How dare he! My face was aflame with indignation.

Tom went white, well as white as you can through a builder’s tan. “Fuck, sorry Trace. Bad habit. Didn’t mean nuthin'” he offered. I turned away, the small palm sized spot where he had merely tapped me sending signals to my pussy and my brain that turned both to a fiery liquid. The door clunked shut behind me, and I watched him through the window as he returned to the busy garden. He shot a sideways glance at me through the window, then sat next to his father on a bench seat. Didn’t mean nuthin? Like that made it better. I took a long pull on the bottle of Becks and went back outside, slumping beneath the parasol all by myself, bottle in hand, while the rest of the pale skinned crowd soaked up as much sun as they could before the clouds drew in and marked an end to another British summer of no more than four days at best, if the law of averages ruled. After a couple of minutes Tom came over and sat himself opposite me. I looked up from the greying brown wood of the round table.

“Sorry about earlier.” he smiled lamely.

“Relax. Forgotten already. Just a little touchy at the moment, that’s all.”

“Everything okay?”

“Perfect. Nothing that concerns you, at any rate.” I replied, barely able to take my eyes off his chest. I couldn’t see Rob. Tom’s frame blocked him out completely so that at that moment Rob just did not exist. Perhaps he did in ethereal form as wisps of smoke that drifted up from behind Tom occasionally, but right at illegal bahis siteleri that moment that was all he was. Tom filled my vision, almost seemed to expand to totally blank out everything else. Beer goggles can do that. “So, no girlfriend today?” I asked, making conversation myself now to fill the silence.

“In between birds.” He confessed. “The older you get the longer you spend between shags.”

I blurted out an involuntary laugh. It was almost as if he could read my soul. I certainly knew what that felt like.

“See, I can swear like a trooper, too.” Tom grinned broadly.

“The word ‘shag’ isn’t swearing, you moron.” I giggled.

“You don’t want to get into a swearing competition with me, Trace.” Tom smiled smugly. “I work on building sites all day long.”

“I can tell.” I whispered, giving him a lewd wink. He smiled crookedly, no doubt wondering what the hell had gotten into me or come over me. The beer perhaps? The heat of the sun maybe? Whatever. I wasn’t going to tell him that the trouble with me was that nothing at all had gotten into me or cum over me in a long time. He put his hand under his left nipple and lifted it playfully. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He quipped.

“Not a fair trade.” I shrugged, folding my arms in front of my chest and leaning back in the chair. “Need to see something a lot bigger than that for a glimpse of my babies.”

Tom laughed, “Trace, I don’t know which one of us is the bigger tease.”

“I’m not teasing” I smiled thinly. In the movies this is where the girl gets up, walks into the house, and the guy waits about ten seconds with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face before following the girl inside and ripping her clothes off. I didn’t though. Again probably beer effect, but all I could do was stare into his blue eyes as they bored into my browns as those three words filled the gulf between us. Instead of the customary grin on Tom’s features all I could see was uncertainty as he struggled to figure out if the eternal joker was having his own leg pulled for a change. I leaned to the left, breaking eye contact, and waved to my husband, getting a nod and a thumbs up for my efforts before he returned to massaging the burning meat on the grill with a blackened tongs. I didn’t know if Rob had told Tom I had the hots for him and to be perfectly honest at that moment I didn’t care. If he’d told Tom amd Tom was now taking advantage then that was Rob’s own dumb fault. If he hadn’t told Tom then maybe it was time I told him myself in a roundabout kind of way. Either way all three of us would at last be fully aware of the sexual dynamic between us. Before Tom could respond with a wisecrack of his own I slipped my right foot out of my sandal and rested my heel on top of his thighs, then began to dig in, attempting to force his thighs apart. Tom’s eyes went wide. “It’d be much more enjoyable if you just opened your legs a little.” I suggested.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell Trace, cut it out.” He whispered across the table. I continued to dig with my heel, defiantly prising his thighs apart as I watched his adams apple bob. “People can see.”

“So take me somewhere were they can’t.” I shrugged nonchalantly, my heel still working tirelessly as he continued to resist. “Rob won’t mind. He doesn’t care. He knows I have a bit of a crush on you.”

“What?” Tom blurted. So they hadn’t been talking about me behind my back. Ah well, too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say, though I still had the option of backing out and pretendng that I was just teasing.

“Don’t you like me?” I pouted, glancing around Tom to see my husband still working away at the grill oblivious to my slutty behaviour.

“Trace, you’re a great looking girl, but…”

“You don’t sleep with married women?” I finished for him.

“Sure I do, but you’re married to my fucken’ brother for Christ’s sake.” Tom hissed.

“Why don’t you slide forward a bit, it’s hard for a short girl like me to reach the nice bits when you’re sat back in the chair like you’ve got a stick up your bum.” I smiled sweetly, ignoring his protests, leaning forward until our faces were only a couple of inches apart. “This is turning me on so much, all these people around and Tom over there clueless. Sooo naughty. Dangerous. I’m tingling down there like you would not believe.” I whispered, my tongue flicking out and licking lightly across my upper lip. Tom gulped again, but this time he shifted his butt forward on the plastic garen seat and leaned back a little. “That’s better.” I murmured as his legs spread and I pressed the sole of my bare foot against the bulge in his jeans. Tom glanced around nervously, saw that nobody was watching, and I felt his hand on my ankle. Expecting the brush off I curled my toes over the bulge, but instead I felt the tips of his fingers slide lightly along the backs of my calves towards my knee. I shivered with anticipation beneath his touch as I felt his bulge stirring, uncoiling beneath the movements canlı bahis siteleri of my foot. The sheer physical pleasure of the moment had temporarily silenced his objections, but I could tell by his nervousness that it wouldn’t take long before he came back to his senses, batted my foot aside and chastised me for being a very, very bad girl. We both knew this was probably as far as we could go in this environment. It’s not as if I could launch myself across the table, suck his tongue out of his mouth and pull my tits out for him so Tom just sat there and enjoyed it, getting harder as I pressed against his balls and thickening shaft with my toes. His fingers danced across the backs of my knees, making my entire leg shake and that motion transferred through to his groin. Soon it was Tom licking his dry lips before reaching for his cider.

“Why don’t you go ask Rob if you can take me upstairs for an hour?” I asked as he swallowed, almost gagging on the drink. I slipped my foot back into my sandal and leaned put my arms beneath my breasts, lifting them up slightly, offering him a glimpse deeper down my cleavage than those he had already been stealing. “Or would you prefer me to do it?”

“Trace..” He started, a hint of warning in his voice. I pressed a finger to my lips, motioning him to silence.

“Phone the house.” I told him assertively. “Do it under the table. Just let it keep ringing until I come back.”

“I don’t think..” He began, but I cut him off again.

“You don’t have to think, just do as you’re told big boy.” I winked at him. “Please?” I added. He sighed, then pulled his mobile out of his jeans and began dialling. I was already on my feet when the house phone began to ring, and I dashed past Rob on the way to the lounge, telling him that I’d get it. He tried to give my ass a playful slap with his hand as I went by but missed. He’d thown away enough chances. I picked up the phone, put it to my ear, but all I could hear were the sounds of chatting in the garden so I hung up, then checked myself out in the mirror over the fireplace, straightening some errant strands of hair, separating a couple of eyelashes that had stuck together in the heat, then I hid the phone book under the sofa and went back out to the garden to tell my tale of woe.

“Rob,” I began. “That was my nan. Her smoke alarm is making some strange sounds and it’s doing her head in and she can’t hear the telly. She can’t get hold of my mam so I’m going over to sort it out. Trouble is I’ve had too much to drink to drive there so can I get Tom to give me a lift – he’s only had a bottle and a bit.”

“Why don’t you ask my dad, he’s not drinking today.” Rob said.

“I don’t mind your dad driving me across town, but having to sit in the car with him for an hour through Saturday shopping traffic will do my head in.” I countered. “And it’d take twice as long and I’d rather get back here sooner to be honest, love. I’d like to have at least some fun today instead of spending all morning buttering rolls and preparing salad and all afternoon stuck with your dad and my gran.”

“Okay, whatever.” Rob sighed.

“Thanks. Won’t be long.” I said, kissing him lightly on the cheek before crossing the garden back to where Tom sat, hopefully with his hard-on returned to not so obvious proportions in his jeans.

“Tom, darling,” I began, whispering into his ear. “Rob just asked if you would please be so kind as to drag me across town to your place, strip me stark naked and fuck the living daylights out of me for an hour or so.” I dropped the car keys to Rob’s BMW in his lap. He turned to look at me in disbelief. ” Well, come on.” I said a little louder. “We’re just wasting time here.”

I walked back over to Rob at the grill and gave him a smile and a thumbs up. Tom followed behind me somewhat uncertainly.

“Cheers, mate.” My husband began unwittingly. “Appreciate you doing this.”

Tom looked incredulous. “Are you sure?”

“What? ‘course I am. Better than having dad do it. Just be quick and get back here before the food gets cold. Oh, and don’t bend my car and watch the speed camera vans down the dual carriageway, okay?”

I was having a difficult time keeping a straight face as Tom tried to figure out what the hell was going on. There was no dual carriageway from our place to Tom’s house. “Right-oh.” Tom shrugged, then followed me through the house to the car. I felt like a teenager again, sneaking out behind my father’s back for blowjobs, handjobs and even some quickies in the backs of boyfriends cars in the country lanes when I’d been seventeen, but this was even more exciting. I stood at the car, arms folded on the roof as Tom closed the front door behind him and unlocked the car with the remote and I winked at him again as I threw the passenger door open and dived in. Tom climbed in beside me and when he slammed the door shut I burst out laughing. “Your face when Rob said ‘better than dad doing it’ was priceless.”

“I think there’s more to this than meets the eye.” Tom frowned as he started the engine.

“If you want to back out, now’s the time. Just tell Rob you don’t feel comfortable driving after a bottle and a half of beer and I’ll tell him I got my brother to sort my gran’s smoke detector out.”

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