by Gabi Moore
“I think Elise likes big rough boys, though, don’t you?” he said in a dark, almost inaudible voice.
Elise listened closely, almost bewitched. She caught my eye again. Regaining herself, she shook her head back, laughing. “Now don’t fight, guys. There’s only one way to resolve this, fair and square.”
In a moment we were in the tent, the light of the fire outside casting a magical golden haze over everything inside. It was warmer inside, and we were soon all naked, our three bodies creating one unified, glowing mass of warm limbs. Joel was somehow in charge, something almost primitive in his grunts, the way he handled Elise, pinning her this way and that way, kneading her body and sucking each of her small breasts hard while pawing the rest of her with big, rough hands. Elise, on the other hand, seemed to melt. No more was she the plucky, in-your-face girl with opinions she just had to share. No, somehow in Joel’s presence she became a kitten, girlishly purring under his firm touch.
I kiss her, taking my time, enjoying every soft fold of her lips and tongue. She was a gentle kisser, and thorough. Out the corner of my eye I see Joel’s hand working rhythmically between her legs. I find myself amazingly turned on by her scent, which seems to rapidly fill the tent, and when Joel lifts one glistening hand to stroke her belly, I see just how turned on and wet she really is. She’s writhing between the both of us now, me kissing her slowly and sweetly on one end, Joel slipping his fingers roughly back into her wet slit, his other hand on his own cock. It was that evening in the tent that I uncovered the existence of unusually thick, heavy cocks – and Joel’s was the perfect specimen.
We paused at some point, briefly kissing one another before looking down at Elise again, deciding how to divide her lovely body up between us.
“My turn,” he said, moving to her lips and kissing her. Her legs were splayed, slick pussy lips opened, inviting me closer.
I had never done this to a girl before. I knelt down between her legs and pushed her legs further apart. I was intoxicated by her scent, barely noticing how dripping wet I myself had become. I was fascinated to discover a sparse patch of blonde hair above soft pink folds that seemed instantly familiar. I gently parted her lips, and began sucking on her clit, which seemed to pulsate in response. Her entire body throbbed and bucked, even the tiniest blonde hairs on her abdomen prickling with ecstasy, despite the rising temperature in the tent. She was beautiful. And I wanted more than anything to make her come.
In my mouth.
Her legs had closed softly around my head and were drawing me in; she rocked her hips gently, riding against my lips and tongue, wetness streaming down over her thighs and ass. She seemed to swell and open the more I sucked and licked.
Joel now had the full length of his cock in her throat, and she murmured quietly, hands on the small of his back, pulling him further in. Flicking my tongue over her clit made her murmur loudly and arch her back. She closed her lips more tightly around him, and he let his head drop back in bliss, his eyes closed. I licked again, she moaned, Joel moaned. We were all connected through one long, delicious thread of pleasure.
My pussy was aching badly by now, and the thought that I was pleasuring both her and him at the same time nearly made me explode right there.
“Hmm, she likes that,” he said to me, his black eyes mysteriously making me feel even more naked than I already was. “But it looks like you need some help. Look, this is how you make her come.”
His fat cock slipped out of her mouth and he moved over to my side, hoisting her by both of her legs. She squealed in delight. He thrust into her easily, her pussy already desperately wet. They had an easy familiarity with each other …he’d probably fucked her millions of times, I thought. In that moment, Joel kneeling tall and strong over Elise, whimpering and pliant, and the light so warm and yellow, and me mesmerized by the sight of Joel’s cock easily and happily swallowed by her little pink lips.
I must have been staring dumbfounded, lips still wet.
“Well, don’t just stand there” he said.
I leaned in and kissed him. Oh, he certainly was a big rough boy, all right. His kiss was forceful, confident. He seemed to be savoring the taste of her on my lips. He pushed my head down towards her again. “Keep going,” he mumbled. And so I did. I gently planted my lips again on her tender clit, while he began to thrust firmly in and out of her. All the tension from her lower body seemed to pool up in one spot as she clenched tightly, then released, a wave of pleasure forcing her lips open into the sweetest, most vulnerable shuddering cry. I heard Joel mumble his approval.
He fucked her, and I kissed her beautiful clit while he did. I saw his cock jump a little and he paused, closing his eyes and breathing hard. He was close to coming. He entered her again, this time fucking her roughly, so hard that I could only draw back and watch as she tossed her head back and screamed, clutching at both of us and jerking with each wave of her orgasm. I leaned in again and immediately took his cock in my mouth, sensing that he was going to follow her soon. He orgasmed with just a husky groan, but I felt the full force of a load of his cum burst into the back of my throat, his dick pumping and pulsing on my curled tongue. I swallowed it all down, sucking out every last drop, feeling his body loosen and relax. I couldn’t tell where the sharp, creamy taste of his cum ended and the salted-honey sweetness of his girlfriend’s beautiful pussy began.
To my surprise, just the thought of this sent me over the edge, and I found myself coming all at once, the ache releasing into full, easy waves of pleasure. My entire body shook. I almost laughed out loud. Shuddering, I opened my eyes to find Joel holding me on one side, and Elise the other. We held each other like that for a while, slick with heat and sweat.
Elise was completely spent, but she was the first to break our reverie. “So I’m glad you lost your stupid tent after all, Christy.”
I beamed. So was I.
“I knew she was up to something,” Joel said, tracing his fingers round the curve of my bellybutton. “Honestly, when I saw that ridiculous pair of knickers she was wearing. I mean, who wears black lace panties on a camping trip?”
I laughed. He had a point.
“So, who’s better, boy or girl?” I asked Elise playfully. She teased and twirled a lock of her hair in her fingers. “Oh jeez, I really couldn’t say. I’m pretty sure Joel cheated anyways, so it’s hard to decide. I think we’ll need a rematch.”
I fell in love with both of them, I think, sometime during that trip. That blissful moment after our first fuck might have been the exact time it happened, although it could have also been the next night …or the night after that. On that trip I discovered my love for eating pussy, for moody, husky boys and for the taste of cum. I discovered the beautiful Welsh countryside and two new friends. But, you know, I lost my boyfriend. And a tent.
And I never saw that damn pair of lacy knickers again, either.
Exhibit C: The Ugly White Satin Ones
The first thing I’ll say about this particular pair of knickers is that I wasn’t at all sad to see them go.
By the time I was finishing up my third year at university, I became aware my nerdy image had somehow transformed into a sexy nerdy image. Truth be told I wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, it just seemed that one day heavy black glasses and boots with dresses were edgy, rather than awkward and unintentional …which they were when I last checked. I rolled with it. If I was going to be hot by accident, why not?
My over-the-top lingerie collection grew steadily and quietly, but this specific pair of satiny white briefs was a case in point: I very often had no idea what the hell I was doing or how to go about being “sexy.” I had seen them on sale, hideous things with a fat glossy bow at the back, and bought them, thinking they would make a sophisticated addition to my stash. Once I got home, though, and tried them on, I realized all the quilting and fuss on the front made my crotch look something like my granny might embroider on a Christmas cushion. I was disgusted, and sent them to the very back of the drawer.
But of course, by now I was getting used to the fact that sometimes, the most well-hidden secrets are the first to be exposed, and the things you think least likely to even happen usually do. And then they may even happen a lot.
Enter Liam, a man who turned out to love convincing me to do new things almost as much as I loved doing them. I had had a blissful summer with Joel and Elise, but they had since emigrated to Australia, leaving me with a bunch of overpriced camping equipment and a half-hearted promise that they’d both fuck my brains out if I ever found myself in Melbourne. I was sad to see them go. They were sad too. The camping equipment went up for sale on eBay. I bought a relationship self help book. Life went on.
When Liam and I first met, it was a blustery day. The night before, the wind had started to pick up pretty seriously, so I ran outside and quickly picked off the laundry I had hung up to dry, in case it decided to rain. I was stuffing it all into a wicker basket when I heard my phone ring. I rushed inside and forgot all about the washing. In the morning, I woke to find the wicker basket suspended in a tree, all of my clothes missing, except for one sock strewn on the patio. It was like the scene of a crime. The wind had come in the night, and made off with my laundry. Peaking into my neighbour’s garden, my suspicions were confirmed: a pair of pink pajamas lay like a dead body on his lawn. How embarrassing.
That same morning, I went around knocking on the doors of everyone in the complex to rescue my wind-stolen washing. People laughed and good-naturedly handed over an old t-shirt, a crumpled dress crusty with leaves, the other sock. I knocked on the last door of the complex, just to be thorough. I had never met the occupant, but when a good-looking guy answered, I realized he must have only recently moved in. I told my sob story about the wind and the flying laundry, like some kind of reverse travelling salesman, and he laughed. He was a good 10 years my senior, stockily built but with quick hands and light, intelligent eyes.
“Actually, I did think it was a bit strange, I found something in my flower box this morning, but …I don’t think it’s yours…?” He ducked back into the house and in a moment he was back, smiling strangely, holding something in his hands between thumb and forefinger, as though too scared to touch it.
Of course. What else were they but the very same hideous, satiny white nightmare knickers I had tried to forget about? How did they even get in the laundry pile anyway?
I turned deep red (probably) and he looked at the pair, limp like the carcass of an old fashioned angel or a strange butterfly that had died in his zinnia bushes. I snatched them from him, laughing nervously. He was obviously amused.
“Oh, so they are yours. I just …they don’t look like …I mean, no offense but they don’t seem like something a girl like you would wear…”
It was his turn to go red.
“I’m sorry, that’s stupid, I have no idea about…” he gestured to the knickers, shrugging.
We stood, staring at each other, the offending knickers hanging limply between us. I heard the wind stirring up again.
“Hey, I’ve actually just moved in here, do you want to …come in for some tea or something?”
In hindsight, this was the first thing Liam tried to convince me of. I laughed, saying, “yes, of course” and truthfully, everything from that moment got the same answer from me.
I went inside.
There was nowhere to sit. He turned his back to me and started to make some tea, his back and shoulder muscles moving visibly under the thin cotton of his shirt. Nervous as hell, I began chattering, staring at the empty space and unpacked boxes strewn everywhere. “So you’re new here? I never really spoke to the lady that lived here before you, although she looked nice. It’s two bedrooms, right? Nice. I don’t have this balcony thing in my place. I mean, I’m kind of offended now that I think about it – what’s wrong with my knickers anyway?”
I said this last bit a little too quickly, and when his eyes flashed to meet mine, I smiled back a little too awkwardly. I laughed, to show I was only joking, but this also came out awkwardly, and I looked away again. Typical. This ugly pair of panties couldn’t just exist. Oh no, it had to lead me here, to this strange guy’s apartment, where he’d probably murder me and chop me into bits or something. Or discover what a completely awkward idiot I am, which is worse.
There was nothing left in the room for me to pretend I was casually looking at. He handed me a cup of chamomile tea, fumbling for something to say, but as I reached for the cup, the tips of his fingers grazed mine and my eyes caught the flicker of a gold wedding band. All in the space of one giddy heartbeat, I knocked the tea from his hands, where it flew up, dumping its contents directly onto me. The pain was unbearable. A dark, chamomile scented wet patch was spreading down over the front of my jeans and legs, searing the skin underneath it.
“Shit!” I screamed, and began doing a little dance from one leg to the other. His eyes were wide and he stared slack jawed at my crotch.
“Oh god, oh god, I’m so sorry!” he said, panicking and looking around for a cloth to mop up the mess. By this point, I’m sure I could feel the top layers of my epidermis peeling off. I was nearly bent double – the pain didn’t seem to be stopping. My eyes prickled with hot tears.
He was dabbing helplessly now at me with a tea towel, which did precisely nothing, and I was sobbing, mentally running through a future in which I didn’t have the use of my legs anymore, when he snapped his fingers and said, “Aha! I have some ice in the freezer…”
He turned his back to me again and then, possessed by God-knows-what and unable to bear the torture anymore, I unbuttoned my jeans and tore them off my body, flinging them away. A rush of cold air came to the rescue. He turned around again, staring straight at my now pink, parboiled thighs.
“Oh,” he said.
We both stared at the pink blotch, while he nervously tried to find a place to put down the ice cubes and then figure out what to do with himself.
“Is this where I make a joke about making you wet?” he said, followed with a look of instant regret on his face.
Thank God, someone slightly more awkward than myself.
“You’re married,” I blurted out. Nope, turns out I was still the reigning queen of awkward.
He looked at his ring as though he was surprised to see it there and shrugged.
“Divorced,” he said.
I slowly took my knickers off, the rapidly cooling chamomile tea on them giving me goose bumps all over my belly. I had no idea what I was doing.
“So what do you think of these knickers then, do they meet your exacting standards?”
Where the hell did that come from? What was I thinking?
He was quiet, not looking at me or the pile of clothes I had tossed to the floor. Was I really doing this? Was I really standing half naked in some stranger’s house at 10 in the morning? Something in his face darkened. My eyes focused on a single quivering water droplet on the pad of one of his fingertips. For a moment everything was silent except for my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“So, you’re just a little slut who goes to people’s houses and strips down?” His face was hard, serious. A flutter of panic rose in my chest. I suddenly started visualizing a future where I was cut into bits and stored in Tupperware containers, my family searching for my missing body, my ugly school photo flashing on the evening news.
“I …think I’ll just go,” I muttered, feeling as though all the air had just left the room.
“No you won’t,” he said immediately.
Silence.
Was I scared? To my alarm, I felt a desperate twinging between my legs. Did he really used to be married? Did that change anything? I had never slept with an older guy before. They had always seemed so …intimidating.
“Turn around,” he said. The words seemed to be coming from deep inside his throat.
“But …I …”
“Do it.”
I turned around immediately, placing my shaking hands on a taped up box propped against the w
all. The cardboard felt so rough against my fingertips. Was my body going into shock? Did I need to go to a hospital to get burn treatment? My mind fluttered furiously. I closed my eyes, and heard him moving around behind me. I heard a ruffle and the unmistakable clink of his metal belt buckle falling to the floor.
I shuddered.
He came close, and his hands, almost as rough as the cardboard, reached around and delicately touched the tender red skin on my thighs.
“Does it hurt?” he whispered into my ear.
I exhaled, my head spinning.
Before I knew it, something immensely cold slipped over the skin there, and I yelped out. The ice. He was gliding a cube over my burnt flesh, the hot skin melting it easily, making prickling drops that slid all the way down my bare legs and puddled onto the floor. An excruciating throb radiated out from between my legs. My skin smarted, but with each stroke of the ice cube, soothing waves washed over me. The entire surface of my body seemed to tighten up, every last hair standing on edge.
With his hot breath against my ear, and the rapidly disappearing ice cube licking all over my body, each of my senses seemed blissfully overwhelmed. I couldn’t tell what was pain or pleasure anymore, whether the icy hot thrills running up and down my body were too much for me, or whether I very much wanted more. I whimpered. His fingers moved closer, and as he gently touched the ice cube against my clit, I cried out again.
The ice cube moved deeper down, and he pressed it firmly between my lips. I was streaming wet now, melting along with the ice cube and sending sticky rivers of my own all down my legs. The ice cube gone, he seamlessly slid two fingers into me, and I swear I almost felt my entire body move and pull him in deeper.