The Point of No Return….Pt One

Do I believe in the point of no return? Probably, I guess the question is ‘when is it?’

Was it the first time we met? Or the first time our hands touched or we looked beyond politeness into each other’s eyes? Was those first stolen kisses way beyond the point or did our hesitation still keep it in the future. I’m not a fatalist, we make our own decisions but sometimes it does seem that we have little choice but to follow some invisible path that has been mapped out for us from the cradle to the grave.

All I know for certain is wherever that mythical point of No Return was… we’re way beyond it now!


Just another ‘gathering’ in Suburbia, mostly the usual faces with the odd exception as I mingle through the party with the garden as my destination and an ‘anti-social’ nicotine hit as my hidden agenda. Don’t get me wrong, they’re a good bunch, entertaining and diverse enough to at least have a few different stories to tell as life goes on. Not that I’m any better or worse than them. “Them!” I am ‘them’ and ‘them’ are me, I’m no different though occasionally I do feel like I am looking in from the outside.

I get caught by Mike (ex-rugby, ex-husband, now ex-divorcee, his second marriage I think), his grip strong on my bicep as he whirls me round, only a couple of drops flying out of my half full glass at those within range. A brief look of sympathy passes over an unfamiliar face as she wipes the dark liquid from the arm of her flowery dress and Mike introduces me to his new wife for the second time that evening. He’s only slurring a little, about five or six pints worth I imagine, as once again I kiss Angela’s cheek. “Hello again”

“What? You two have met before? Well, I never…”

“Old friends, aren’t we Angela?” it doesn’t even raise a smile on the slim blonde’s tight lips, “Must be at least twenty minutes since we first met all those seconds ago?” I realise that her displeasure is directed at her new husband and not at me.

“Really?” the light dawns within Mike’s brown eyes. “Pete, you’re such a joker” he thumps me jovially on the bicep. Unfortunately Mike’s jovial is another man’s subcutaneous rupture. I try not to wince and quickly raise my glass to my mouth. I notice that Angela’s mouth seems to have turned up slightly at the edges and slips her hand into the crook of Mike’s arm. I’m sure that my annoyance at her pleasure at my pain reveals itself on my face. The two of them, though Mike in the main, tell me about their honeymoon in Tunisia and I do my best to feign interest. Even when Mike boasts of finding the most secluded of beaches, away from the common tourists and perfect for …swimming. The sleight pinch that Angela placed on Mike’s forearm wasn’t lost on me. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes dropped down her slim frame and I imagined fucking her roughly, ‘doggy-style’ on golden sands.

I caught sight of Elena over Mike’s shoulder. Her startling blue eye’s caught mine and she raised her glass to me and offered a sympathetic look for my company. I watched her turn back to her own conversation and smooth her red satin dress down over her backside for my benefit. I looked closer unable to tell whether or not she had eventually decided to go ‘sans panties’ or not. The ‘small-fella’ down below twitched like a Pavlovian dog in response to my wife’s action. I emptied my drink and made my excuses for a refill heading out into the cool night air of the garden first and fishing in my pocket for my Camel cigarettes.


A few people were gathered around the open patio doors. The evening air was a little chill as I wandered out of the wash of light emanating from the lounge. A couple of those photo-cell garden lights tried vainly to illuminate the stepping stones placed within the lawn. I sat against the retaining wall of a raised flower bed and looked back at the house as I searched my pocket for a lighter. I smiled as all those who had ventured outside seemed to be afraid of the dark as all stood within the yellow spill of light. I span the wheel on the lighter. No sparks appeared and I placed it back in my pocket as I searched for another cheap disposable.

The smoke eventually curled serpent-like up through the air till it reached about twelve feet above my head and the breeze passing over the hedge behind me tore apart my flowing carcinogenic art work. Dropping my head back onto the cold stone of the small wall I looked up into the clear evening sky. The stars were out in force and only a couple of wisps of clouds drifting lazily overhead. I enjoy the cool night air on my face and the hot flavoursome smoke in my lungs. The cigarette finished and stubbed out in the lawn I remain looking up at the stars ignoring the chatter from the house. It’s probably quite a few minutes before I sense the approach of another person.

I remain looking up at the star field above, hoping that it is Elena come in search of me. My hopes are dashed as I hear the high pitched, almost nasal, voice of Angela. “You don’t like me, do you Pete?” she states as much as asks.

“To be honest Angela I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you” I answer without shifting my position or eyes. She steps forward her head now within my field of vision, her heels sinking into the soft turf beside my outstretched legs.

“You’d think that you’d be more polite to your friend’s new wife!” she answered curtly.

“I apologise if you think I was impolite.”

“I didn’t think you were very nice to Mike either!”

“Well, if truth be told, I find Mike quite hard work when he’s drinking” I lowered my head and eyes to look up at her. Pure instinct took over and my eyes dropped to her the hem of her dress. It was a pretty yellow cocktail dress, quite appropriate for the evening, but from my prostrate position I could see her white lacy knickers beneath with the added benefit of the light from the house behind her. My reaction wasn’t lost on her either. In the dim light I was sure that my face reddening wouldn’t be obvious.

“Ohh… you don’t like me but you like what you see, is it?” she shifted her feet further apart, it would have been subtle except for her having to drag her heel out of the soft soil. I almost gulped at her response.

It took me a couple of seconds to respond, “As I said, I don’t know you, but in answer to your question, yes! I do like what I see.” I deliberately and slowly raised my eyes up and back down her body allowing them to rest on the thin material stretched across her crotch.

“What sort of bastard are you to do that to a friend?”

“The sort of bastard that knows that Mike doesn’t know what he has and is well past the point where he could satisfy you tonight!” I responded as a matter of fact. Her hands were rested on her hips and I saw her knuckles strain as she gripped them tightly, her mouth opened wordlessly. “The sort of complete and utter bastard who would like nothing more than to sit up and pull those panties of yours to one side and thrust my tongue up your wet cunt!”

She stood there staring down at me, I wondered could she see my cock stiffening within my jeans, for a few brief moments she seemed to sway before she muttered one single word. “Bastard!” she twisted about on her heels, one of them slow to dislodge from the grass and stormed away back into the house.

“She’s right… stupid bastard” I muttered to myself as I pulled the crumpled pack of cigarettes out. Just as I was about to light one I saw a faint red light to my right. I twisted my head.

“Stupid is right” came an unknown voice from the darker shadows. The flowery dress steps forward. The woman walks up beside me, her face turned to watch the retreating figure of Angela disappear into the French doors. Turning back to me she leans down and flicks open a Zippo lighter, the flame illuminating the two of us. As I inhale through my cigarette she continues, “I have to say that your wife is an easy nine, if not a ten whereas the tease you just tried it on with is a seven… with make-up!”

I suck deeply on my camel as she turns back to look at the house. She’s short and overweight. The dress seems old and her large bosoms strain at the material. Her hips are broad but she seemed to carry herself with a confidence of a catwalk model. My eyes rise to take in her face in profile. A small button nose, too small for her matronly features, seems oddly to dominate her face.

“Pete” I offer.

“I know” she answers simply and walks away.


That night when we got home I fucked Elena on the floor at the foot of our bed. She is beautiful, too beautiful for me, but as my seed filled her spasming pussy I wasn’t thinking of her or of Angela’s lace covered cunt. I was thinking of the woman in the flowery dress.



To be continued…

~ by ftfagos on August 1, 2011.

3 Responses to “The Point of No Return….Pt One”

  1. YOU MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate your to be continued!!!!!! But I cannot wait to read the next part!!!!

  2. Lover your writing! Can’t wait for the next part!

  3. […] outlook on life. If you are looking for a fantastic read, might I suggest you start with this tale? Or perhaps something a little more… voyeurish might I suggest “How was your day, […]

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