Sliding Sideways - Sex Stories

Sliding Sideways

... nose nuzzling her long brown hair? Contact was made. And the docking was smooth. Their mouths grappled together with a passionate urgency. And when he placed his hand on her crotch, it was already dripping with a warm moistness of desire that hastened his impatience to finally couple with someone who might this day and the next and maybe, just maybe, for many days to come be an anchor for his drifting through universes of subtle mutation. Someone, perhaps, who could share the jokes he’d often loved to share as he discovered each new piece of unsolicited information that hinted at the larger changes in the world around him. One who would remember, as he did, a world where Prime Minister Gordon Brown didn’t defect to the Liberal Democrats rather than lose a term in office. One who remembered a world where the Euro became adopted with amazing enthusiasm by the British public. Or one who might also know a world where the UK refused to join the European Community. Their two bodies fell onto the bed, Vivienne’s gasps of passion and enthusiasm drowned out by the fog of his own. And when they conjoined, his penis entering her vagina with energetic thrusts, each one savoured and relished in a way they had rarely been before, it was not just two bodies, but two souls, that met in each upward thrust of her crotch, as wild and unrestrained as any he could remember. It was truly two people becoming as one. As little as nothing separated his hairy torso from her full bosom. Or his ...

... slightly bulging stomach on her flat muscular one. Or his stubbled chin grating against her smooth one. And the orgasms she achieved, which he somehow reciprocated without losing the will and vigour to continue, were full, throaty and unfeigned. Fuck the neighbours, Quentin thought. He would probably never have to confront their complaints about the passion they could hear through the walls. This was it. This was the moment. This was the zenith of his life. And when they parted, two bodies that were reluctant to accept any pause in their lovemaking as anything other than a brief respite, they exchanged memories and observations of the different worlds they had drifted through. The universe where the Americans won the Vietnam War. The universe where the Naturist Party won a seat in parliament (and the furore that caused). The universe where Michael Jackson became a militant black cleric and did remarkably well in the Presidential elections. But no amount of passion could last forever and neither Vivienne nor Quentin had the stamina of youth. Soon enough, the two of them accepted defeat. More lovemaking was beyond either of them. The two lay together on the huge double bed, sheets pushed to one side, while below the window of Quentin’s apartment, a barge chugged along the River Thames, its lights shining against the darkness of the double-glazed glass. Quentin awoke many hours later to the sound of seagulls and tourist barges, gratified to find Vivienne still nestled beside him. He ...