“Yes, yes, yes,” I murmured, rubbing my chin and cheeks over her wetness.
“Don’t move,” she breathed.
Even in this moment of complete abandon, she was still in control. She moved off of me, taking the cock with her. “Close your eyes,” she instructed.
I did as I was told, still seeing her kneeling above me with that hard cock, feeling her moist flesh in my mouth, lost completely in who and what she’d become to me. I heard her doing something in the bathroom at the sink, then she came back into the room. More shuffling, the slow creak of the chest lid I would come to know so well my clit would throb in immediate Pavlovian response every time I heard it.
Then Sarah was back in bed, pulling me to her in the way we liked to lay, my head tucked in under her chin, resting on the softness of her breast.
“Cold?” she asked. I shook my head. I couldn’t have been more warm, all over.
“Does your mother know about the collection you have in your hope chest?” I asked coyly. She chuckled.
“You haven’t seen the half of it, sweetie.” She kissed my forehead. “But you will.” I shivered, and not from cold.
“Sarah…” I said after a moment. “You do like men, yes?” We’d had this discussion before. She nodded, her eyes closed, already drifting. I stopped, unable to go further, unsure.
She sensed it and opened her eyes. “Ask for what you want.” I’d been thinking about the differences of being with Tim and Sarah, and I’d always thought I would be one of those women who just wouldn’t ever have an orgasm with a man. Maybe I was too inhibited with them, or maybe it was just that Tim was so inexperienced, and often too interested in his own pleasure to notice mine.
But now, after this…
“I’ve never come with a cock inside me before,” I confessed.
Her eyebrow went up but she didn’t say anything.
I flushed. “I liked it.”
A small smile. Encouraged, I said, “I really liked it…but I don’t think I could do it without you.”
Now both eyebrows were up and she was looking at me, bemused.
“Ask for what you want,” she said again, rubbing my jaw line with her finger.
“I want to be with a man…with you,” I blurted, moving to tuck my head under her chin again, hiding. There were no words for a long time. Finally I had to inquire,
“Sarah?”
“Not Tim,” she said definitely.
“No!” I was horrified. “Someone else… I don’t know who…” Again, silence. I waited, hopeful.
“I can’t say no to you…and you know it,” she murmured, pulling me close.
“Does that mean yes?”
She touched my lips with her fingertip and then kissed me. “Yes.” I spent the whole night with her that night, which I couldn’t often do, and we slept snuggled together until the first bit of light started seeping between her blinds. I woke up once in the middle of the night and found her sleeping curled on her side, her face soft and relaxed, and tried to imagine sharing her with a man. Yes, I wanted it. But I also knew that you had to be careful what you wished for.
CHAPTER THREE
Everywhere I looked, I saw a partner for Sarah and I to invite into our bedroom.
And I was thinking of it as “our bedroom” now, too. I couldn’t kid myself anymore, that this was just an experimental thing, that we were two girls just having fun together. It had become much more than that, for both of us.
And Tim knew it on some level, although he didn’t know how to say it. In fact, I think people at work were beginning to suspect as well. David had been watching us since the beginning, always hungry for Sarah. She claimed not to notice, but I couldn’t help see his eyes following her when she passed his cubicle, scanning the short hemline of her skirt, the sweet indentation of her belted waist, the swell of her breasts in her peasant blouse. I knew he watched us together when he hung around to “clean up” his paperwork while we talked and laughed and flirted in the back office, his eyes alight with something that made my belly flicker in response.
Tim, on the other hand, didn’t like to even hear her name mentioned and whenever he picked me up from work and she was around, they faced off rather coolly, the tension between them palpable. He would always make some comment as we left—often loud enough for her to hear him—“That one’s trouble.” I shrugged it off and hoped he had no real idea…but they say love is blind.
The other complication was college in the fall, which was fast approaching.
Summer was slipping away from all of us, and I would be back at school two hundred miles away with Tim…without Sarah.
I’d been re-thinking even going back, that’s how caught up I was, but Sarah would laugh softly and nudge me whenever I mentioned it and reply, “Time to be a grown-up, Lizzie…”
The comment inevitably—and I think purposefully—distanced me enough from her to make me forget the idea of staying home. Each day found me closer and yet further away from her. We continued to have our play dates, as I liked to call them. Ah, what my mother might have said if she’d known I would transform the phrase she used in reference to the scheduled times I’d gone to play with friends when I was five into the term I used now for the sticky, sweaty, sex sessions I was having with Sarah! And each time she made it a new discovery, a different experience. Sarah didn’t ask me about my sex life with Tim, and I didn’t ask her about her sex life separate from me… although I wondered if she had one.
One Saturday morning, after she’d allowed me to slowly and sweetly fuck her to a shuddering climax with one of the dildos from the toy box-something I discovered I loved and often begged to do to her!—I was cleaning off the toy (always the job of the fuck-er as opposed to the fuck-ee) when I found condoms in the bathroom closet.
I was immediately flooded with both jealousy and lust. It was a strange combination that reminded me how much I wanted to share that with her, to add something, more to the point someone, to our sex life.
We’d been to bars and scoped out guys, and we’d taken many of them home with us in our imaginations and fantasies. We would dance for hours together, often finding an unsuspecting but grateful guy to sandwich between our damp and writhing bodies, our eyes meeting in lust and keen awareness.
She loved to play the fantasy with me later, the memory of the music still pounding in my body, recalling a hard denim-covered cock rubbing against my backside. She’d strap on that magnificent black dildo and handle me roughly, asking, “Do you want his cock in you, Lizzie? Tell me how much you want it…” But we had yet to really take a man home. It was when I found the condom I made up my mind, I think, to make it a reality, in whatever way I could. No more playing, no more just flirting and driving each other to distraction with the idea.
And of course, the man we ended up “taking home” was probably the most obvious choice, although I’d never really imagined it would happen with him. I always thought it would be one of the younger guys with their piercings or tattoos who we slowly flirted away from their girlfriends at the club. I really never anticipated that it would be with David, or that it would fall into place so easily one Friday night, not unlike the first night I’d been with Sarah, or that the results of that night would be so bittersweet.
It was the end of the work week. Sarah and I were planning on going out to the club. It was only two more weeks until school started, and that weighed heavily on both of us, although we didn’t talk about it. Tim was busy, going to a bachelor party for his best friend, although the thought of getting married at our age was anathema to me.