Gentle Ending

The sun had shifted higher in the sky by the time Amara finally pulled back from Kyle’s lips, her breath a little quicker, her eyes warm and hooded. A soft breeze played with the strands of her hair as she rested against him, still comfortably settled in his lap, her arms gently draped around his neck.

She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. Her voice dropped to a more thoughtful tone. “Why would he not be? It was me who invited you, so Marvin has nothing to worry about! It’s not like we are on some kind of romantic getaway! I am not cheating on him!”

Kyle stoped her loud tirrade with another long kiss. Once he felt her get calm enough to not bite his lip every ten seconds, he pulled back. “I know you are not! Amara, you are like a godess, you cann’t do anything wrong!”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. Exactly. I invited you. I kissed you. So technically, he’d have no reason to be upset.” Her smile turned teasing before she leaned in for another kiss, but dodging Kyle’s lips and going for his kneck instead.

Kyle exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm as her lips kissed and sucked on his neck. “So, because you started it… it’s not cheating?”

“Exactly,” she said, almost playfully. “You said it yourself.”

Her fingers curled lightly around the back of his neck again, and she shifted her hips just slightly in his lap. The motion wasn’t deliberate at first—or maybe it was—but either way, it had an effect. Kyle tensed as he felt a sharp pulse below his belt.

Amara noticed. She looked down, then up again, and gave him a sly smile. “Is that…?” she whispered, wiggling her hips again, slowly and deliberately.

Kyle inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Sorry. That’s—um. That’s definitely happening.”

Amara chuckled, unfazed. “It’s a natural reaction, Kyle. There’s nothing wrong about it.”

Her tone was calm, almost amused, as if she were discussing the weather. But there was heat in her eyes too—a quiet confidence in her ability to affect him this way. And Kyle? He was caught somewhere between bliss and panic, feeling her weight press gently into his lap, her slow rhythm stirring every nerve in his body.

He cleared his throat, trying to think of anything that would keep his mind from spiraling. Kyle pulled back slightly, breathless, his eyes locked on hers. There was something more serious in his expression now—want and wonder braided together.

“Amara,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly. “Would it… would it be alright to show more of you?”

Her brow arched, not in offense but in surprise. “More of me?”

Kyle nodded, his hand brushing lightly across her side, just where the curve of her breast rested beneath the light fabric of her dress. “You’re so beautiful. I just… I want to see you.”

Amara’s expression softened with uncertainty, then shifted as her fingers brushed his cheek. “You mean… here?” she asked, her voice low, her hand drifting briefly over the swell of her chest.

Kyle swallowed, cheeks warm, but he nodded. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

She held his gaze for a long breath. Then, slowly—very slowly—she reached up and began to unlace the front of her gown. The fabric, already soft and light, loosened easily, slipping off her shoulders. Her breasts, full and heavy from pregnancy, spilled free in the golden morning light, their curves plush and warm. A soft flush dusted her cheeks, but she didn’t shy away.

Kyle couldn’t look away. The way the sun caught her bare skin, the gentle weight of her full breasts swaying as she moved—it was stunning. Reverent, even. He reached out, his hands trembling just slightly, and cupped her carefully, like he was holding something sacred.

Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, impossibly soft, and yielding. The weight of her in his hands made his breath catch. As he leaned in and brought his lips to her nipples, pressing kisses along her bare flesh, Amara gasped—quietly, but not from discomfort.

“Kyle…” she whispered, surprised at her own reaction. “That feels… better than I thought it would.”

He murmured something unintelligible, too focused on sucking her nipple to form full words. His lips moved over her slowly, reverently, his tongue tasting the salt of her skin, his thumbs gently tracing the soft curve beneath. Her skin was taut from fullness but still pillowy, her scent delicate and earthy. He shifted his mouth over to the other nipple, and she let out a sound that made him ache.

Amara’s fingers slid through his hair, cradling his head as he kissed her. “Marvin never did this,” she murmured absently. “Not like this.”

Kyle paused only briefly, looking up at her with a dazed kind of reverence. “He is such a dummy.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and she leaned back a bit, giving him more access. “So it seems,” she whispered, letting her head tilt as the breeze cooled her heated skin.

The lake shimmered peacefully behind them, and the quiet lapping of the water felt like a rhythm syncing to their shared breath. Amara rested against Kyle’s chest, her dress pooled around her waist, her breasts still bare and kissed by the warm sun. Her fingers gently combed through his hair, and her voice had softened into a whispering stream of thoughts—memories, reflections, things she had never expected to share with anyone but her husband.

Kyle sat quietly beneath her, utterly captivated. His arms encircled her like she might disappear if he let go. Eventually, Amara leaned back just enough to look at him. Her smile had changed—it was more content, more inward. Her red lips, swollen and inviting, there was a small hickey just beneath her collarbone, below her breast, the telltale bruise from Kyle’s earlier, eager kiss lingered, a soft, purple bruise where his lips had been too insistent, too hungry. Her nipples, still hard from the heat of the moment, glistened under the soft light, a reminder of the raw electricity that had filled the air.

But Kyle’s body hadn’t exactly calmed down.

He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, trying not to draw attention to the obvious tension straining in his lap again. She noticed immediately, her brow rising as she looked down between them, then up to meet his eyes.

“You’re still…” she said with a faint laugh, “a little worked up?”

Kyle gave her a crooked, guilty grin. “Well, yeah. I mean—can you blame me? You’re sitting on my lap, half-dressed, and gorgeous.”

Amara flushed but didn’t look away.

He hesitated, then said, playfully but quietly, “Look… hand stuff doesn’t count as cheating. Right?”

Amara blinked at him, taken aback for half a second—but then her lips parted in surprised laughter. “Hand stuff?”

Kyle nodded solemnly. “It’s like a rule. Everyone knows it. I mean, you invited me, remember? So it’s still technically your call.”

Amara gave him a slow look—half amused, half surpised. “Why had I not though about it before?”

“I don’t know,” he said confidently, “but it just is.”

She shook her head, smiling as she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “Then let me help you… since this is my responsibility.”

Her fingers drifted to the edge of his waistband with elegant hesitation, as though she were unwrapping something delicate. She didn’t rush. Instead, she let her palm linger just a moment longer against the skin of his abdomen before gently freeing his hard cock from his pants.

“Mm…” she murmured, giving him a firm stroke, “you’re… quite a bit bigger than Marvin.”

As her fingers curled around him, Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. Her grip was delicate—uncertain, yet not shy. She explored his length with slow, deliberate strokes, her soft fingers contrasting sharply with the hot, pulsing weight she held. The band of her wedding ring—a simple band of gold etched with elven script—dragged faintly along his shaft with every pass, a subtle, cool scrape that made him twitch in her hand. It was a reminder, intimate and maddening, of the vows she still wore… even as she stroked another man.

Her fingers continued their slow rhythm, her palm gliding over his sensitive skin with exquisite care. Every time her ring brushed him, it sent a ripple of pleasure through his spine—cool metal and warm flesh working in quiet contrast. She shifted closer, her breasts pressing against him again, full and soft and slightly damp from the lake air.

His hands tightened on her waist as his body tensed with the building pressure. “Amara…” he gasped, unable to stop himself.

"Let go, Kyle," she encouraged softly, her free hand reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead. "It’s okay, cum on my body!"

She guided him against her—the round swell of her belly cradling him, her other arm wrapping gently around his shoulders as he leaned into her. He groaned low into her neck, clinging to the shape of her, her scent, her breathless warmth.

She held him steady as he let go, his release hot against her skin. It painted across the pale slope of her chest and the taut curve of her pregnant belly. Amara simply breathed, still and calm, her fingers never leaving him until he relaxed completely in her embrace.

When it was done, she gave a final affectionate squeeze and leaned back slightly, her hand drifting down to the fabric of her dress. She pulled it back up over her shoulders with casual elegance, though the damp spots across her chest and belly bloomed through the thin material.

She glanced down at them briefly and smoothed the fabric with both hands. “Well,” she said, adjusting the neckline without urgency, “I suppose that will be a conversation with my laundry girl.”