We spent a week in our backyard-and I thought of it as “ours” by then, connected as it was-soaking up the last of the summer sun, Carrie in a black bikini and me wearing a modest one-piece, red with little white polka dots. I wasn’t there for the sun and I think she knew it, although we spent that first week chatting about our husbands, campus life and our families-or lack thereof. Carrie had moved around from foster home to foster home as a kid, and hadn’t had anything like a “real” family until she married Doc (“His name’s Steve, but everyone calls him ‘Doc,’ even me,” Carrie said) who I had yet to meet. That was another thing we had in common-husbands who were hardly ever home, although for vastly different reasons.
“He works so hard.” Carrie sighed, turning her face to me on the blanket. She was on her belly, top undone, her hair curling at the edges with oil. No matter how much I showered that week, I went to bed smelling like coconuts and I inevitably dreamed of Carrie Baumgartner’s tanned flesh. I was more than halfway crushing on her already.
“You have to respect a man who loves what he does for a living. But I do miss him.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I know what you mean.” And I did, although missing Mason didn’t leave me with stars in my eyes like missing Doc did for her. While her husband was doing his residency at the University of Michigan teaching hospital, mine was…well, I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing most of the time. Hanging out in basements with his friends, rolling many-sided dice and conjuring spirits, most likely. It sounded too ridiculous to even mention, even if we were four years younger than they were, so I just kept my mouth shut.
“Where did the sun go?” She craned her slim neck to see the sky, giving me a dizzying view of her cleavage. I could see the dark flower of her areolas and could almost glimpse their center. “Is it going to rain?”
“It better not rain on our last week of sunshine.” I screwed up my face and stuck my middle finger up at the darkening clouds. “Classes start Monday.”
“Oh that’s right, I almost forgot.” She turned her face back, rubbing her cheek against the blanket. Carrie had her undergraduate degree in something, but she hadn’t decided to go back for a graduate degree, so she was taking occasional classes while Doc finished up his residency. Me, I was kind of excited for classes to begin again-it would be my last year. Besides, my major was my passion and I missed not being immersed several hours a day in classrooms where only Italian was spoken.
A loud clap of thunder shook the ground beneath us and both our heads came up, eyes widening as our gaze met.
“Uh oh.” That was all I managed to get out before the skies opened and rained down on us. We both squealed, scrabbling for the blanket and our clothes. The t-shirt and shorts in my hands were already damp just in the time it took us to get to the Baumgartners’ back door. Carrie pressed me inside, still topless, and pulled the screen door shut behind us. Lightning struck a tree in the woods and we both screamed and clutched each other, seeing the brief spark of a flame and then smoke. It was pouring, the splash of the rainwater wetting our faces through the screen.
“That was fast!” She closed the door as I moved fully into their kitchen. The apartment was the same layout as ours was, as they all were, the kitchen making the short part of an “L” that turned the corner into a living room. There was a bedroom off the kitchen, and I glanced in to confirm that, yes, there was a queen sized bed in there.
Carrie and Doc’s bedroom. Another door beyond that was closed-the second bedroom. We had one, too.
“I need a shower.” Carrie slipped past me into her bedroom, turning on a light. It was like night outside now, the rain pelting the roof. I hesitated in the doorway. I’d never been in their apartment before. We always met in the yard. She hooked her thumbs in her bikini bottoms, glancing back at me as she slid them down her hips. There was no guile or self-consciousness in her look, but watching her made my mouth go dry. “You want to take a shower?”
I just nodded, not trusting my voice, and followed her as she walked naked toward the bathroom. Just like our apartment, the bathroom was attached to the first bedroom. Anyone who wanted to use it had to go through, which always made me uncomfortable when we had guests. Whoever designed the place obviously didn’t have my anxiety about unmade beds. Carrie’s was made though, spotless, the comforter a lovely patchwork thing, pulled taut, the shams to match on pillows against the headboard. I ran a finger over one of the seams, a zigzag stitch.
I heard the shower start and glanced at the open bathroom door. I could see her leaning over, breasts swaying, to adjust the water, her bottom round and full and shockingly pale compared to the rest of her.
“Nice tan lines,” I commented and she made a face at me.
“If I didn’t think one of the nosy neighbors would call the cops, I’d take my bottoms off too.” She reached into the little closet and got out two big, fluffy light blue towels. They matched the shower curtain. I wasn’t about to tell her that I had been one of those nosy neighbors just days ago. “I hate tan lines.” She put the towels on the edge of the sink, glancing over at me. “Are you coming in? Don’t be shy-we’re both girls.”
When she’d asked me if I wanted a shower, I’d sort of hoped but hadn’t assumed that we’d be taking one together. Now that I was here, standing in the doorway of her bathroom with that question answered, I wasn’t so sure. Especially since I had to take off my bathing suit to make it happen.
“Come on,” she invited, turning fully toward me. “The water’s warm.” Jesus, she was beautiful. I dropped my eyes, trying not to stare, and glimpsed the short, tight blond curls between her thighs for the first time. That sight gave me a jolt but when she slid her arms around my neck, untying my suit at the neck, I thought I might melt into the floor.
“Wait.” I gulped as the top of my suit dropped to my waist, my breasts exposed to her view. I winced at the expression on her face when her gaze fell, her eyes widening.
“Oh my god.” Her eyebrows drew together, her hand reaching out, hesitating, not touching. “What did you do?”
“I fell.” I turned sideways and slid my suit down my hips. She’d seen now-there was no sense being modest anymore. Most of the bruises had faded, looking more like a Canadian sunrise across my middle instead of the storm clouds they had been a few days ago.
“You fell?” Her expression was doubtful. “Where? Off a roof?”
“I tripped over a chair in the kitchen, fell against the counter.” I’d prepared this speech all week, just in case. And it wasn’t entirely untrue. Not entirely. I made it sound casual, dismissive. “It doesn’t hurt.” I stepped into the shower to avoid the look in her eyes, the water hot, stinging my face. It was just a moment before I felt her get in behind me. I edged forward so I wasn’t hogging all the spray.
“I have to tell you something.” Carrie took the soap out of the dish, rubbing it thoughtfully in her hands, making suds. “But I don’t want to make you mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad?” I turned to look at her. We were almost the same height and we stood eye to eye, practically nose to nose, the steam rising around us. “You’re the first friend I’ve had…” I blinked, glad for the water running down my cheeks. “In a long time.”
“And friends should be able to tell each other things,” she said, rubbing her soapy hands over her oil-slick shoulders. “Right?”
“Right,” I agreed, although I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing to.
“Well, then.” She reached for the shampoo, giving up on the soap and slipping it back into the dish. “You have to know these walls are pretty thin.” She nodded toward the tiles and squeezed shampoo into her cupped hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard us.”
I flushed, glad for the heat of the shower turning my skin pink. “Sometimes.” It was true that they might as well have used tissue paper to insulate the walls. I’d heard the two of them at night a few times, her sharp cries, his groans-and their bedroom was two rooms away from my own. Either they were incredibly loud or the walls were incredibly thin. Or a little of both.
“So tell me…” She worked the shampoo into her hair. “Do those bruises have anything to do with the yelling I heard coming from your place last week?”
“No.” I denied it immediately, my arms crossed over my middle. “I fell.”
She turned her back to me, letting the spray rinse the soap from her hair, working it out with her fingers. I took the soap and quickly washed, the smell of coconut strong in the moist heat. When she handed me the shampoo, I took it, using it as an excuse to close my eyes and turn away from her.
“I knew it would make you mad,” she said in a small voice. I felt her fingertips brush over my shoulder, like bird’s wings. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad.” I shrugged. It was true-I wasn’t mad. I was afraid. And I didn’t want to talk about it. “Really, I’m not.”
“So we’re still friends?” she asked as I turned to face her.
“Friends who take showers together, apparently.” I grinned.
“Nothing wrong with that.” She laughed. “Can I ask you something else?”
I groaned. “Do you have to?”
“I was just wondering…” Her gaze fell briefly and then skipped back up again to meet mine. “Have you always shaved down there?”
I blinked and then glanced down too, as if to confirm what I already knew.
“Well…not always. But Mason likes me smooth.”
“Does he?” She cocked her head, looking again between my legs as if my response gave her permission. There was no hair there at all anymore. I used to have a dark little landing strip but Mason had made fun of me, saying it looked like my pussy had a Mohawk, so I’d gotten rid of it. “What’s it like?”
“Haven’t you ever gone bare?” I raised my eyebrows, looking down at her little nest of curls. She was definitely a real blond. “You, with your penchant for bikinis?”
“Well, I keep it trimmed.” Her hand went there, her fingers pulling gently at her pubic hair. It reminded me of seeing her touching herself from my bedroom window and the memory made my knees weak.
“You could wear one of those little micro-bikinis if you shaved,” I pointed out.
“Less tan lines. And I bet your husband would love it.”
“You think?” Her eyes brightened at the thought.
“Sure. It makes things easier. Less in the way.” I waggled my eyebrows and she grinned. I leaned in, lowering my voice, as if I might be overheard. “The first time I did it, I couldn’t believe how sensitive I was down there afterward.”
“Really?” she breathed. We’d been drinking sun tea and her breath smelled minty against my cheek. “I’d be afraid though. What if I cut myself?” She shuddered.
“It takes practice.” I nodded sagely, the idea coming out of my mouth before I could even think. “I could help you. Show you how I do it.”
“On you?” She licked her lips, her gaze dipping again to my bare mound.
“Or on you.” I pointed between her thighs, where her hand was still idly stroking the hair there. “If you really want to.”
“Okay.” She grabbed my wrist, squeezing. “Let’s do it.” She was so excited she was practically vibrating. “What do we need?”
“Just a good razor and some shaving cream.”
She was out of the shower before I could finish my sentence, opening the medicine cabinet, taking a disposable razor out of its plastic and handing me a red and white striped can. She shoved them both at me. “Here. Where do you want me?”
I glanced around the bathroom. I usually shaved in the shower, putting one leg up on the edge. Would that work, if I knelt in the tub? I wondered.
“Here.” I opened the curtain wider so she could step in. She was shivering, her nipples stiff, the skin around them pursed. She hesitated, looking a little afraid, and I smiled. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise. I’ll be gentle.”
“How?” She looked around, frowning, as I sank to my knees, the hot water needling my back.
“Put your foot up in the corner and sort of lean back.” I guided her with my words, not daring yet to touch her. My hands were shaking and that wasn’t the best state in which to be handling a razor.
“Like this?” She did as I directed, her palm resting against her lower belly, peering down at the soft fuzz between her legs.
“Perfect,” I said, and she was. Her thighs were long, tawny muscled velvet and I couldn’t help placing my palm there, as if to steady myself, just to feel the incredibly softness of her. “Are you ready?”
I glanced up and saw her bite her lip, her breasts beaded with water, rising and falling with her breath. Her hair turned darker when wet, less honey and more wheat, some of it making little curls against her cheeks and her neck. Seeing her like that, her thighs parted, her eyes wide with excitement and even a little fear, made my mouth water.
“Do it,” she insisted, closing her eyes tight and looking the other way. It gave me the opportunity to really study her and I smiled, squirting shaving cream into my hand.
Her pussy was truly lovely and I almost hated to shave off her blond curls. She flinched a little and opened one eye when I started to spread the shaving cream over her bush.
“It’s okay,” I soothed. She closed her eyes again, looking away. She kept it trimmed with scissors, so the hair wasn’t too long to begin with. I made short, easy strokes downward. “All of it?” I inquired, hesitating as I reached the middle of the triangle.
Again, she opened just one eye. “Yeah. Let’s go for it.”
“All right.” I rinsed the blade in the inch or so of water gathered at the bottom of the tub, continuing the job. I had most of the long hairs gone on her labia, but there was much more intimate work to be done. I glanced up at her turned face, her eyes still scrunched closed, and then used my fingers to delicately part her pussy lips.
“Ohhh.” She barely breathed the word, biting her lip as my fingers brushed her clit. It was difficult to keep her open and manipulate the razor at the same time. She wasn’t just wet from the shower-she was slippery. Aroused. God knows I was too. My pussy felt fat and swollen, and I squeezed my thighs together, resisting the urge to touch myself as I used the razor, making upward strokes now.
“Almost done,” I assured her, using my fingers to feel for stray hairs and any stubble I might have missed. Her skin was like silk, her juices making her pussy slick.
Her lips were swollen and I petted her gently, hearing her sigh softly as I neared the top of her cleft, feeling the slight forward shift of her hips. I wondered if she could feel my breath on her thigh, coming faster now. I couldn’t help it.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her thigh quivering under my palm as I steadied her, continuing with my inspection. Her eyes were closed to just slits as she looked down at me. “It’s sooo sensitive now.”
“I told you.” I smiled smugly, sitting back on my heels. “I think we’re done.”
“Really?” She opened her eyes fully, sliding a hand down to touch herself. I watched, transfixed, as her fingers explored the soft, completely nude folds of her own flesh for the first time. “Oh wow. It’s so different. So smooth.”
I had to stand up. If I didn’t, I was going to do something crazy. It was hard enough, pretending I wasn’t aroused by her, not knowing if she wanted more, afraid to ask. She was so unselfconscious, so open with her body, I still wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to risk the newness of our friendship because I couldn’t control my urges. Funny, that. I hadn’t had any urges for so long, and now I had one so strong it was finding it almost impossible to resist it.
“He’s going to be so surprised!” She gasped, her fingers still exploring, giving me a delighted smile. “Oh Dani, thank you so much!”
She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me, the soft, wet press of her breasts against mine a brief, delightfully yielding moment of heaven. She laughed as she drew back, looking down and tilting her hips toward mine. “Look, now we match.
We’re like twins.”
That made me laugh too and we got out of the shower together to dry off. Carrie got dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and I put mine on too, although I didn’t have panties or a bra. I considered running next door for them, but Carrie insisted I stay and eat with her. She’d been cooking something all day in a crockpot. I could smell it simmering.
Besides, it was still pouring outside, the sky even darker.
“White chicken chili,” she announced. “Doc loves it. It’s supposed to be for dinner, but I’m hungry now.”
“Perfect for a rainy day.” I looked around for a place where we might eat or lunch.
Our kitchens were far too small for tables. There was a small area in the living room that we used as a dining area where I had a table, but the Baumgartners had a desk and computer there.
“Stupid rain.” Carrie made a face as she glanced out the window. “I wish we lived in Florida.”
“Too many big bugs.” I shuddered. “How about Rome? It’s nice and sunny there.”
“I don’t know any Italian.”
“But I do.” I smiled.
“Okay, you take me to Italy and we’ll take you to Florida.” She opened the crockpot and stirred. “We’re going to Florida for Christmas.”
“That sounds like fun.” I looked over her shoulder. It smelled delicious.
“Doc’s parents have a timeshare there. There’s a private beach. We can just walk out and go swimming in the ocean.” She took out a bowl and started spooning chili into it. She handed me the bowl and reached into the cupboard for another. Then she turned to me, a funny expression on her face. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. It feels like I’m going around naked or something.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I know.” I couldn’t help imagining her panties hugging her pussy, the seam of her shorts rubbing into her slit every time she moved, no hair there to impede them.
We spent all afternoon watching movies and complaining about the rain. It never did let up. The parking lot flooded. It was hard to tell what time it really was because it was so dark. The streetlights had been on for hours.
“Let’s pretend it’s Venice,” Carrie joked, coming up behind me at the window. I felt her breath on my neck and it made me shiver.
The door opened, surprising us both, and a very wet, dark haired man came in, shutting the rain out behind him. “It’s crazy out there! I think I saw an ark parked down the street.”
That made me laugh and Carrie ran to him, putting her arms around his neck.
“You’re early! You weren’t supposed to be home until midnight!”
He glanced at his watch, still shaking off the rain. “It’s almost ten. Okay, so I slipped out a little early. I missed you, what can I say?” He glanced over at me. “Is this the Dani I’ve heard about all week?”
Carrie beamed happily. “Dani, this is Doc.”
“Nice to meet you.” It sounded so strange and formal, but he just smiled.
“I’m soaked through. I’m gonna take a shower. Is that white chicken chili I smell?
You are a goddess!” He kissed his wife on the cheek and headed toward the bedroom.
She stood there for a moment, looking after him, and then back at me.
“I should go home,” I said, moving slowly toward the door. “It’s getting late.”
“Don’t you dare!” Doc called. “I brought home margarita mix and we’ve got a ton of ice!”
Carrie grinned. “Want to stay and get drunk?”
I hardly ever drank but that didn’t matter. She didn’t have to ask me twice.
“Absolutely.”
Doc ate his chili and exclaimed over it the whole time. I had to admit, it was pretty fantastic. Then he started making margaritas and Carrie put “Ghost” into the VCR.
“Again?” Doc complained good-naturedly. “Ever since it won the Academy Award, she can’t get enough of it.”
“Oh shut up.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “You want Demi Moore and you know it. Besides, the pottery scene is hot.”
“I wouldn’t say no if she wanted to eat crackers in my bed.” Doc cocked his head at me, refilling my margarita. “You look a little like her. Longer hair, of course.”
I smiled, sipping my drink. “I actually get that a lot.”
We settled on the couch. I expected Carrie to cuddle with Doc, but instead she insisted I sit between them. I thought it would be strange, that I would feel out of place, but things fit so well, as if we were puzzle pieces finding their niche. Doc poked fun at the movie and Carrie teased him and I couldn’t get over how easy and comfortable it felt. It could have been the alcohol loosening me up but I was sure that wasn’t all of it.
Doc slipped an arm around my shoulder and I didn’t protest. Carrie leaned her head against me and rubbed her cheek absently against Doc’s hand while we watched.
Doc kept refilling our margaritas-I lost count of how many times he went back out to the kitchen to refill the blender with ice-and that feeling of being warm and comfortable turned into sleepiness after a while.
I made it through the pottery scene-which was decidedly hot and made me squirm, feeling Carrie’s bare thigh against mine, and Doc’s jean-clad one rubbing against the other-but I dozed off at some point after Whoopi Goldberg tried to convince Demi Moore that Patrick Swayze was trying to communicate with her from the other side. When I woke, Carrie was covering me with a blanket, the TV was off and the room was dark.
“I have to go home,” I murmured, trying to sit. Bad idea. The room spun. Way too many margaritas for me.
“Shhh.” She tucked the blanket under my chin. “You sleep. I’m going to show Doc our little… surprise.”
It took my foggy brain a few moments to realize what she was talking about, but by then she was gone to her room. My thoughts lingered on her, reliving the silky slickness of her pussy against my fingers as I shaved her. He was definitely going to be surprised, I thought, and found myself feeling jealous. Then I recalled her words, “our little surprise.” Somehow she had included me in it and that was gratifying. I let the alcohol win again and slept.
* * * *
Something woke me. I’d been sleeping hard, drooling on the edge of the couch cushion, my arm dangling off the edge, dreaming about Patrick Swayze making margaritas, and something pulled me suddenly from sleep. I had no idea what it was-I couldn’t hear anything but the rain, still falling, and the ticking of a clock somewhere- and then I didn’t care. I was suddenly desperate to pee. All those damned margaritas. I pulled myself to standing, using the back of the couch to steady myself in the unfamiliar darkness. My head was still spinning. I hardly ever drank anymore, even wine.
It was nearly dark, but there was a night light in the kitchen next to the sink and I followed its glow, shuffling along the carpet in my bare feet. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and wake the Baumgartners. It wasn’t until I’d made my way through the kitchen and saw the bedroom door, slightly ajar, that I remembered the way to the bathroom was through their room.
Then I heard an unmistakable moan and knew what had woken me. They were having sex. What I’d mistaken for a ticking clock was the rhythmic tap of a headboard hitting the wall.
“Oh god, that’s fucking fantastic!” Carrie gasped. “I’m going to come again!”
I heard him grunt, the springs squeaking louder, faster, the headboard slapping the wall with greater force. She gave three short, sharp cries, the same sound I’d heard her make that afternoon watching from the window, and I felt my whole body bloom with warmth. I leaned against the door frame for support, not sure I could trust my legs to keep me up.
“I love your shaved little pussy,” he growled. The squeaking had stopped.
“Gimme!”
“No, no, no!” she cried. There was a flurry and shuffle and she objected the whole while but then I heard her moan softly. “Oh god, Doc, I can’t, not again…”
“Mmmm yes you can,” he assured her, his words muffled. I was sure his mouth was full. I felt so faint I thought I might actually pass out. “God, that’s so fucking hot. So smooth.”
“I know.” She sounded both smug and proud. “She shaved me so nice.”
“She sure did.” More muffled words from Doc.
“Oh baby, your tongue!”
I’d obviously guessed correctly.
“So tell me about your shower.” Doc’s voice was low. “Did you enjoy it?”
“You’re bad.” She teased him. “Does it turn you on, thinking about the two of us wet and naked?”
“You know it does.” His grin was so big I could hear it in his voice. “Tell me.”
“She’s so pretty, Doc,” she murmured dreamily. “Her breasts are big like mine, but she’s got these puffy nipples, so sexy.”
He groaned. “What color?”
“Brown, almost as dark as mine,” she murmured. I couldn’t believe the details she was relaying, how much she had noticed about me. That confirmed she’d been looking too, maybe as much as I had. I cupped my breast in my hand, closing my eyes, imagining the weight of hers, seeing the fat pursed jut of her nipples in my mind. I thumbed my own nipple through my shirt and shivered. “And her pussy, oh god, she’s shaved so smooth. I wanted to touch it…and kiss it.”
Me, too, I thought, and squeezed my legs together, feeling the heightened pulse between them. I’d been imagining little else for a week, and knowing now that she’d been thinking about it too made me so hungry for her, my mouth actually started to water.
“More,” Doc insisted, his breath coming fast. “Tell me more.”
“I want your cock first.” She made a little sound, denying him. “No, no, not there-in my mouth.”
He hesitated. “Then you can’t tell me.”
“My hand then,” she conceded and I heard them rearranging on the bed. I wished I could see but the room was dark. Maybe if I pushed the door open a little further? I chanced it, praying it didn’t squeak, opening it just another inch.
“Oh god. Easy.” Doc gasped. “I haven’t come yet.”
“You’re going to,” she purred.
“Not yet,” he pleaded. I could see their outlines, ghosts and shadows. She was on top of him, her hand wrapped around his cock, her pussy poised over his face.
“Did she touch you?” He urged her on.
“She had to,” Carrie replied with a little snort of laughter. “She shaved my pussy, remember?”
“No, I mean, did she touch you.”
“I think so.” She sounded thoughtful and the motion of her hand slowed. “She brushed my clit more than once and I don’t think it was all by accident.”
They were quiet for a moment and I strained to hear, wishing I had Jezebel’s ability to see perfectly well in the dark. I wanted to see his cock. I wanted to watch her stroke him. I really wanted to see her arched above him, moving her hips against his tongue. What I really wanted was to be sandwiched somewhere in the midst of all that sweaty, wanton flesh. My pussy felt swollen, hot.
“Why didn’t you take her to bed with you?” Doc asked. “Didn’t you want to?”
“Oh god yes…” Her reply was breathy, dreamy. “It just feels so funny, without you…”
He snorted. “You have my permission.”
“I know.”
They stopped talking, concentrating on other things. There was just the sound of their breath and their bodies rocking, rubbing, licking. Oh god, I was so wet. I had to touch myself. I had to.
“Do it,” Doc insisted, and at first I thought he was talking to me. I froze, breath caught, eyes wide, my hand sneaking under the waistband of my shorts. Then I realized he was talking to her.
“Oh Doc,” Carrie murmured.
“Do it for me,” he urged her. “So you can tell me all about it.”
He was telling her to do it-to do me. And I wanted her to. Oh yes, I did. I cupped my aching mound, my labia puffy and wet.
“I’d love to taste her,” Carrie admitted, her voice lowered, as if she was telling him a secret.
“So soft and smooth,” he said, inciting her lust even more. “Just like your little pussy now.”
“I want to rub our pussies together,” she whispered hoarsely. “Make them kiss.”
He groaned like a man being tortured. “Do you think she wants to?”
“She wants to.” She was quite confident. And she was right. “And you know what?”
“Hmm?” He sounded distracted, busy, and I imagined his face buried between her sweet, tanned thighs, arms wrapped around her hips, her pussy spread wide for his tongue. My clit came to life the moment my fingers found it, slippery wet and thrumming with excitement.
“After tonight, I think she might want you too,” she hinted.
He groaned. “You know I wouldn’t say no to that.”
The thought made my pussy hum. I couldn’t deny that it had occurred to me, sitting there tonight, lodged between them on the couch. He was sexy as hell, and the two of them together? Oh god what was I thinking? I was married. They were married.
And somehow none of that mattered.
“But if she doesn’t want me, that’s okay,” Doc was saying and I almost cried out in protest. Instead I bit my lip, my fingers moving faster over my tingling little clit, teasing it toward climax. I wanted it so badly my thighs quivered. “You two can still have fun. I want you to.”
Carrie sighed happily. “You are the most amazing man in the world.” I couldn’t have agreed more. Then she said, “I want your cock in me. Fuck me.”
He chuckled. “Not until you come in my mouth.”
“Oh god,” she whimpered. “I don’t think I can.”
“Oh yes you can,” he contended. “Just imagine her sitting on your face.” She moaned and thrashed on the bed. My fingers circled my clit, zeroing in, chasing my orgasm, wishing it was Carrie’s tongue, that I really was sitting on her face. That she was on mine. Oh god, how I wanted it. Doc was still talking-talking and licking, licking and urging her on. Urging me on too. “Grinding her pussy against your tongue. Yeah, just like that. Oh baby, your cunt tastes so fucking good.”
“Eat it!” she hissed, sounding more out of control than I’d ever heard her. “Oh yes, I want her pussy so bad. I can almost taste her.”
“Taste,” he growled and I heard a wet, sucking sound. She was licking her juices off his fingers, I just knew it. I wanted to taste too. Instead, I shoved another hand down my shorts, scooping my fingers through my slit, gathering a bit of slippery wetness and bringing it to my mouth. I rubbed the slickness over my lips, sucking at my fingers, never stopping the desperate circles against my clit.
“Come for me!” he persisted. Oh fuck. Yes. I was going to. I was going to come for him, for her, for them. “Come all over my face!”
My bladder was so full I thought if I climaxed I just might pee myself, but I didn’t care. I rubbed myself furiously, panting, listening, imagining.
“Oh Doc! Oh! Oh! Oh!” It was the sound of her that did it for me, Carrie coming, hips thrusting, thighs straining. I could almost see her in the dark and my pelvis jutted forward too as if she was a magnet drawing me toward her.
Doc growled and the headboard hit the wall hard. Carrie howled. He was fucking her good, driving into her. I could hear them both panting, grunting, gasping in the darkness.
“I’m going to come!” he announced. “Ahhhh fuck, it’s so good!”
“Come on, baby,” she cried. “Come in my pussy. I want her to lick all your cum out of my cunt.”
“Oh god.”
That did it. For all of us, I think. She made those sweet cries again and Doc grunted and groaned. Me, I bit my lip and thanked god that the wall held me up because I had both hands shoved deep into my shorts, riding my orgasm like a tidal wave between my thighs. My chest heaved, my nipples so hard they hurt, and my panties and shorts were soaked with my cum.
And I still had to pee. Now more than ever.
“Shhhh.” Carrie giggled. “She might hear us.”
“She’s probably listening right now, masturbating on the sofa.”
“No way!” Carrie exclaimed and I froze, holding my breath. “You think so?”
“Want to go find out?”
“You’re bad.” She giggled again and I heard them rearranging again in the dark.
I crept away from the door as quietly as I could, finding my way back to the couch and collapsing there, pulling the blanket back over me. I could hardly catch my breath, but I still wanted more. My pussy insisted, and I did just what Doc said I would-I touched myself again on the sofa, reliving the moment, imagining them both, in me, on me, all over me. Finally sated, I drifted, my bladder complaining until sleep took me, but I didn’t dare go through their room to the bathroom. Who knew what I might do?