The Secret Rendezvous with Bree
# The Call The phone buzzed against the bar, Bree’s name lighting up the screen. A week had passed since that first, electric night with her and Riley. My thumb hovered before I answered, curiosity overriding caution. “Miss me?” Her voice
Chapter 1
The phone buzzed against the bar, Bree’s name lighting up the screen. A week had passed since that first, electric night with her and Riley. My thumb hovered before I answered, curiosity overriding caution.
“Miss me?” Her voice was a low, playful purr.
“Maybe.” I matched her tone, straightforward.
“Meet me. Bar on Fifth. Just us.” A beat of silence stretched. “Riley can’t know. Promise me.”
The secrecy was a spark to tinder. “I’ll be there.”
She was a vision in crimson, the tight red dress clinging to every generous curve. Under the dim bar lights, her olive skin glowed, the intricate ink on her arm a secret map I wanted to trace. No bra, no underwear—the knowledge was a constant, hot pressure in my gut as we shared a meal, our conversation laced with double entendres and charged glances.
Every time she leaned forward, the neckline plunged, revealing the swell of her breasts. My gaze kept dropping to her full, painted lips, imagining them elsewhere.
Back at her apartment, the door clicked shut, sealing us in a bubble of tense quiet. She turned, her brown eyes dark with intent. “No talking tonight,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Just feeling.”
Her hands went to the hem of her dress, pulling it slowly up over her hips, her stomach, finally letting it pool on the floor. She stood before me, gloriously naked, every tattoo and piercing a testament to a confident, adventurous spirit. The scent of her skin—warm and subtly sweet—filled the space between us.
I closed the distance, my own need a sharp ache. My mouth found hers first, a deep, consuming kiss. Then I began my descent, as promised. My lips and tongue charted a slow, worshipful path down her throat, over the swell of her breasts, teasing each nipple until she gasped. I mapped the flat plane of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, leaving no inch unexplored.
When I finally tasted her, she was already slick with want. Her fingers twisted in my hair, urging me deeper as I worked her with my tongue, learning her rhythms, until her thighs trembled and a first, sweet release made her cry out.
But she wasn’t finished. Pushing me back onto the bed, she straddled my hips, her curvy frame a perfect weight. She took me in her hand, guiding me to her entrance, then sank down with a slow, controlled roll of her hips that stole my breath. Her eyes locked on mine as she began to move, establishing a rhythm that was pure, undiluted pleasure.
Leaning forward, she captured my mouth in another searing kiss. Then her hand slid down, her fingers finding and gently rolling my balls as she rode me, each squeeze sending jolts of sensation straight up my spine. The dirty, whispered words she breathed against my ear were filthier than any bar talk, painting vivid pictures of what she wanted, what she was going to take.
Her pace quickened, her body tightening around me. I could feel her second climax building, a coiled spring. When it broke, it was a torrent—a helpless, gushing squirt that soaked us both. The sight and feel of it pushed me over the edge. My own release was a blinding, pounding wave, my hands gripping her hips as I emptied myself deep inside her with a ragged groan.
In the heavy, breathless aftermath, she collapsed against my chest, our hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm. The secret hung in the air between us, more intimate now than any touch.
Chapter 2
“Don’t tell Riley about this,” Bree moaned into my shoulder, her body still shuddering around mine.
As if summoned by the betrayal, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. A cold dread pooled in my gut. Bree felt me tense. She reached over, her fingers slick, and handed it to me. The screen glowed with Riley’s name and a text: *Hope you're having a good night - can't wait to see you tomorrow.*
The electric tension was instant, a live wire strung between our secret pleasure and the looming reality. I dropped the phone.
“Why?” The word was raw. “Why can’t I tell her?”
Bree shifted, her naked skin sliding against mine. She traced a tattoo on her ribs, her playful confidence tinged with something heavier. “Riley… she gets possessive. What we did last week? That was a fantasy, a one-time script she wrote in her head. Me being with you alone, again?” She shook her head, her brown eyes serious. “She’d see it as me stealing her toy. It would wreck what the three of us have. I don’t want that. Do you?”
The confession hung between us, a new layer to the game. “No,” I agreed, my voice low.
“Good.” She leaned in, kissing me hard, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting of us. “Now, shut up and drink with me.”
We retrieved the bottle of whiskey we’d brought from the bar. Passing it back and forth, we drank straight from the neck, the burn a welcome distraction. The alcohol stoked the embers of our hunger, her gaze growing darker, more intent.
“My turn,” she whispered, pushing me back onto the soaked sheets.
Her hands were everywhere. She cupped my balls, rolling the heavy weight in her palm, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind. She fisted my cock, which hardened instantly under her expert touch, until I was thick and straining against my stomach.
“So fucking perfect for me,” she breathed, her voice a husky promise.
She didn’t just take me in her mouth. She worshipped me. Her tongue was a flat, wet stripe from the base of my shaft to the leaking head, lapping up the pre-cum. She nuzzled my balls, taking one then the other into the heat of her mouth, her tongue swirling and pressing until my hips jerked off the bed. Then she went lower, her hands spreading my cheeks, and her tongue delved into the tight ring of my ass. The shock of it—the intimate, filthy wetness—made me cry out, my fingers fisting in her short brown hair.
“Bree… fuck…”
She came back up with a wicked grin, her lips swollen. “Now I finish you.”
She took my entire length down her throat in one slow, swallowing glide. Her head bobbed, her mouth a slick, tight heaven. She hummed, the vibration traveling straight up my spine. One hand fondled my balls, squeezing in time with her sucks, while the other reached between her own legs, her fingers working in a frantic rhythm.
I couldn’t hold back. The sight of her pleasuring herself while she sucked me, the secret, the whiskey, the sheer expert greed of her mouth—it all erupted. “I’m gonna cum!”
She locked her eyes on mine and took it, swallowing every hot, pulsing shot as my orgasm tore through me, my body arching off the bed in a blinding release.
She finally released me with a soft pop, licking her lips. She climbed up my body, kissed me deeply, letting me taste myself on her tongue. “Our secret,” she whispered against my mouth, the words both a promise and a threat.
Chapter 3
Our shared climax left us breathless and slick. Bree lay draped over me, our sweat mingling, the scent of sex and whiskey thick in the air. Her whispered secret still hummed between us, a dangerous, binding thread.
“We can’t stay like this all night,” I murmured into her hair, my fingers tracing the wings of a tattoo on her shoulder blade.
She lifted her head, her brown eyes searching mine. “I know. But I’m not done with you.” She pushed herself up, her body sliding off mine with a wet, intimate sound. “Flip over.”
The command was clear. I rolled onto my stomach, the sheets cool against my heated skin. I felt her weight settle on the backs of my thighs, then her hands on my ass, spreading me. Her tongue was on me again, a hot, wet stripe from my balls to that forbidden, tight ring. I groaned into the pillow, my hips pushing back against her face. “Jesus, Bree…”
“You taste like us,” she whispered, her breath a ghost against my skin. “Now, my turn.”
She guided me onto my back. Her hand gripping my cock, guiding it to her entrance. But she didn’t sink down. Instead, she turned, presenting her back to me, and lowered herself onto me in a slow, breathtaking reverse cowgirl.
The view was obscenely perfect. The sweat glistened on the intricate ink that spanned her back, each curve of her spine a temptation. She began to move, a slow, grinding roll of her hips that took me impossibly deep.
“Fuck me harder,” Bree demanded, her voice a ragged gasp.
I obeyed. My hands found her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I drove up into her, meeting each of her descents with a forceful thrust of my own. The slapping sound of our bodies filled the room, a frantic, wet rhythm.
“Yes! Just like that,” she cried out, her back arching, her head thrown back. “Don’t stop, Cam! Fuck, I’m so close!”
I could feel her inner muscles fluttering around me, tightening like a fist. Her movements became erratic, desperate. With one final, deep plunge, she shattered. A guttural cry tore from her throat as her body convulsed, a hot, gushing flood of her release soaking my thighs and the sheets beneath us. The intense, squirting climax made her tremble violently, her nails biting into my thighs.
The sight and feel of her coming undone pushed me over my own edge. I held her hips tight, anchoring myself as my own orgasm erupted—a deep, pulsing release that left me empty and shuddering, my forehead pressed against her sweat-slicked back.
We collapsed together in a heap of tangled limbs, spent and breathing hard. After a long moment, she turned in my arms, her face serious.
“This was our last secret,” she said softly, her finger tracing my lips. “What happens with Riley… that’s the real story now. This was just the prologue.”
I kissed her, a slow, final taste. “I know.” but hey Riley and i are just fuck buddy's.
We cleaned up in silence, a quiet understanding settling between us. There were no more promises, just the lingering heat on our skin and the unspoken agreement that the game had changed. I dressed and let myself out, the cool night air a shock against the memory of her warmth. The secret was locked away, a perfect, stolen fire, and the path forward, whatever it held, was all that remained.
Chapter 4
As my hand found the doorknob, Bree’s fingers closed around my wrist. She spun me back, her body crashing into mine, and her mouth seized my lips in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and finality. She pulled back just enough to whisper against my skin, her breath hot and urgent.
“I want more of you, you fucking old fart. Fuck Riley.”
The words, a direct echo of her text, hung between us like a guillotine blade. I didn’t move. “You’re serious,” I said, my voice low.
“Deadly.” Her brown eyes were fierce, no trace of the playful flirt left. “What we have… it’s real. It’s ours. Riley’s fantasy is a cage. I don’t want to share you in her little plays anymore.”
A cold, thrilling clarity washed over me. The secret wasn’t just a spice; it was the main course. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying choose.” Her thumb stroked my jawline. “Her, and the safe little threesomes she scripts. Or me, and whatever the hell this is going to be. Just us. No more secrets because there’s no one to hide from.”
The offer was terrifying and utterly intoxicating. I thought of Riley’s possessive smile, the way she orchestrated every touch. Then I looked at Bree—wild, tattooed, and offering me a raw, unfiltered truth.
I cupped her face, my decision settling deep in my bones. “listen why cant i have you both, am not in this for a meaning relationship am much to old for you, so am willing to have you both if you want more in this than just simple sex, then maybe am not your cup of tea?
.
Chapter 5
Bree’s expression shifted, the fierceness softening into something more contemplative. She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, her dark eyes searching mine. “You want both of us?” she asked, her voice quieter now.
“I do,” I said, matching her tone. “What we just did… it was incredible. But you know what I am. I’m not looking for a white picket fence, Bree. I’m looking for fun, for connection on my own terms. If that’s not enough for you, I understand.”
She was silent for a long moment, tracing the edge of a tattoo on her bicep. “So, you’re saying you could keep seeing Riley for her… scripts,” she said slowly. “And see me for… whatever this is? And keep them separate?”
“I’m saying I won’t lie,” I clarified. “But I won’t volunteer information that would hurt her either. If she asks me directly about you, I’ll tell her the truth—that we have our own thing. But I won’t throw it in her face. This doesn’t have to be a war. It can just be two different kinds of fire.”
A slow smile touched her full lips. It wasn’t the playful grin from the bar; it was wiser, more accepting. “You really are an old bastard, aren’t you?” she said, but there was affection in it. “Alright. You win.” She uncrossed her arms and closed the distance again, placing a soft kiss on my chest. “I don’t need to own you to enjoy you. But our fire stays ours. No watering it down for someone else’s fantasy.”
“Agreed.”
She guided me back to the bed, the earlier frantic energy replaced by a deep, sated warmth. We lay tangled together in the quiet dark.
“Will you tell her?” Bree murmured after a while.
“Not unless she asks,” I said into her hair.
“And if she does?”
I thought about it—about Riley’s possessiveness and Bree’s wild honesty. “Then she gets the truth. And she gets to choose what happens next.”
Bree sighed, a contented sound, and nestled closer.
“Then that’s our story,” she whispered.
And with that understanding settling between us like a final, quiet chord, our secret ceased to be a theft and became simply another part of the complicated, honest tapestry we were weaving—one heated thread at a time.
**The End.**