Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica)

by Maxxwell, Lexi

  Richard said, “I know the photo.”

  Of course he does, because it’s the photo that reminds me most of them, and the wallpaper on my phone for the first month I knew him.

  “She took several pictures of me, then slipped her phone into my hands, and I took several of her. Then, Hope showed. She was either trying to be silent as she came from the bathroom, or I was so wrapped up with Sasha that I didn’t hear. Either way, she was on the bed before I knew it. She said, “We missed you, Liza. We’ve been waiting all day,” then kissed me.

  I stopped to admire the frayed edges of Richard’s rising breath. It stayed ragged for beats. I listened then dipped back into the story.

  “Sasha reached over and set her phone on the nightstand. Then she was back, sweeping between us so fast it felt like a flicker of light in the room. She brushed a thumb across my cheek, turned to Hope and said, ‘You hogged the camera all day, you can’t hog Liza, too.’ Hope laughed and pulled away from my face. Sasha set her lips to mine and kissed me like she hadn’t all week. Her mouth finally felt like a promise of more. I sank into it. My tongue swam in her mouth, loving the taste as I tried not to think of Zoe.”

  “Did that work?”

  “For that night, and for a while, yes. Sasha was the leader between us, and when she told us to ‘tend to her body,’ we did. She crouched in the bed’s center as Hope and I tended to her from either side. Hope suckled Sasha’s breasts as I kissed her skin. Hope’s lips left her breast with a loud slurping. I looked over and saw Sasha’s bright-pink nipple covered in spit and felt my wet pussy get wetter.”

  Again, I pause. “Do you like that? Thinking about my wet pussy getting wetter, and all of the stuff I let Sasha and Hope do to it all night?”

  “I do,” Richard breathed. “Tell me more.”

  “Do you mind if I play with my pussy while I finish the story?”

  My words are as playful as my voice.

  “To tell the truth,” Richard says, “I’m slightly disappointed if you’re not already.”

  “Well, I have been touching myself. I just haven’t put any of my fingers inside me yet. I was thinking of doing that now. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, Liza. I would love that.”

  I love how he’s breathing.

  “So, I’m still behind Sasha, kissing her neck. She turns to me, points to her bottom lip and says, ‘Right here, Liza. This is where I want it.’ I start kissing her on her mouth, and she starts kissing me back while Hope dips her fingers down into Sasha’s panties. Sasha starts moaning, rocking her body so she’s pushing her middle up against Hope’s hand while kissing me harder. There we were, the three of us on the bed. I’d never seen anything more beautiful. My body was on fire, tingling like it does when you’re making me wait and I’m practically begging.”

  My words leave my mouth clipped, barely there behind my moaning. I stop for a moment, stirring a finger in and out of my flaps before returning my breath to its usual beat.

  “Sasha pulled away from my kiss. She put one arm around me and the other around Hope. ‘Now,” she purred, ‘you two kiss.’ So we did. And it was soft and sweet and beautiful. I danced in her mouth, brushed her cheek with my knuckles. My pussy kept tingling, waiting for attention.”

  Richard lightly grunted. I slipped my middle finger deep into my hole and wiggled.

  “Hope and I broke our kiss. She dragged her lips softly across Sasha’s skin while I kissed Sasha harder. I expected urgency between us, but there was none. It was our final night, and we were acting as if we had forever, taking things slow, one kiss at a time. All week long I felt like the odd girl out, not in a bad way, just the way that it was. They knew one another before me. But that night, for the first time, I could feel our three souls touching.”

  Richard pants, “Is that all that was touching?”

  I love, love, love him, but sometimes even Richard, the most mature man I’ve ever met, can still be a little boy.

  “Oh no, there was plenty of touching to come. I took charge, not taking Sasha’s orders, and showing her I was more gifted at giving pleasure than she had realized. I pulled away and lowered her to the bed. She rested her head in my lap, nestling into the natural cradle at the bend of my leg from my waist. I dropped my breast into Sasha’s open, waiting mouth as Hope went to work between her legs. She parted the panties from Sasha’s slippery lips, held the fabric to one side, leaned into her pussy, inhaled, and thrust her tongue in between Sasha’s lips.”

  “The smell is new,” Richard said, calmly, as if he had gained more control of his breath.

  “You’re right,” I say. “I added that detail for you. I thought you would like it. Do you?”

  “I do.” He waits a breath then says, “Are you still rubbing your pussy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you close to cumming?”

  “No, but only because I’m telling the story. I’ll be ready when you are. Are you still stroking yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  “Stroke faster.”

  He didn’t answer, just grunted. I slipped another finger into my hole, then curled and held it, rocking my body back and forth as I continued.

  “Our room was quiet. I would’ve expected noises: heavy breathing, moaning, wet sucking from our kisses, or Hope’s mouth on Sasha’s cunt. But there was so little that our room was almost silent. Sasha’s whimpers were tiny, steady, and rhythmic — short blasts of air puffing up from her lungs. She looked so dainty, delicate, small features poised for pleasure, seeming to inhale us both. I looked down at Hope as she looked up at Sasha. Hope was so hot, with her tongue out and buried in Sasha’s folds. She lightly lifted her ass from the bed and swiveled it in circles around Hope’s mouth. Hope clamped, trying to keep up with Sasha’s swivel, while lapping at her pussy like a saucer of milk. I had to brace for what was coming.”

  So did Richard. He knew this story well. I’d told it several times. But this wasn’t over dinner, or during a drive. This time was with miles and distance between us. This time it was with me missing him, and him missing me. This time when we finished I’d have to close my eyes to see his knuckles covered in cum that I wouldn’t have the pleasure of licking, or lapping between my lips and into my mouth.

  “Hope finished French kissing Sasha’s pussy, and Sasha raised her legs. Hope peeled her panties down past her ass, over her ankles and onto the floor. Sasha lay back on the bed, arching her back up from the mattress as I suckled her breasts, moving from one to the other. Hope took both hands and started rubbing her six middle fingers in loping circles around Sasha’s slit, writhing and moaning, groaning louder as she lifted up from the bed and pushed herself against Hope’s hands. Hope lifted her fingers to show us: they looked dunked in sugar water.”

  Richard groaned.

  “My hand wandered between Sasha’s legs. I knew it wasn’t my turn to yet, but I couldn’t ignore the glisten. I had yet to fondle her cunt. I was hungry to feel the slippery flesh in between my fingers. It felt as beautiful as I expected; her pussy was freshly shaven, impossibly soft, made all that much softer by her juices and lube. She spread her legs wider. Hope pressed her face deeper. I took one last look at her eating Sasha as she sped her gobble, leaning onto the bed and into Sasha’s cunt. Hope was bent at the waist so her pussy was rubbing up against the edge of the bed, feet to the floor. Hope stuck a finger into Sasha and started plunging as I licked her nipples.”

  Richard groaned louder.

  “Hope started thrusting faster, licking Sasha’s clit while fucking her with one finger, and then another. Sasha cums fast like I do. After seconds of Hope’s work she sent Sasha shaking against me. It was hard, waiting my turn. I wanted Hope to do the same thing to me. It still all seemed so new, yet my friends felt familiar. I knew what to do, like we were old lovers. Our first time in bed, at least like that, felt less like discovery than it did a reunion.”

  Again, I break from the story. “Can you do me a favor, Richard?”

>   “Of course,” he grunts. I hear him stroking.

  “When you cum, will you pretend it’s in my mouth? I will if you will.”

  He answers with another grunt, this one like a bark. I hear him stroke louder.

  “Hope said it was her turn, then climbed on the bed and wiggled her way between us. Sasha scrambled to her side, pawing at her white panties and clamping her tit with her lips. Hope tilted her head back, enjoying gorgeous girls from either side. Hope’s breasts are slightly small but thoroughly perfect, a bit larger than Sasha’s, but puffy, unlike Sasha’s tiny bullets. We took our time with Hope, slowly licking her breasts and skin. I spent time at her tits while Sasha worked her tongue across the rest of Hope’s body. By the time Sasha made it to her pussy, Hope was heaving.”

  Just like Richard.

  “Sasha parted Hope’s panties from her pussy, then gestured, showing me where to go. I shook my head and said, ‘No, you,” then returned to Hope’s puffy nipples, desperate to lick them. Sasha smiled like a minx, bent over, and buried her face between Hope’s legs. Hope moaned, shuddered, and pushed her tit deeper into my mouth. When I finally made it to Hope’s pussy, Sasha had two fingers plunged to the knuckle. I started rubbing in circles above them, slow but steady, then faster and faster until we sent Hope into an orgasm. By the time she was exploding, her mouth was bolted to Sasha. I looked up to see them kissing like old lovers and felt myself flooded by my own juices. I needed my turn.”

  “I bet you did,” Richard groaned. “How very good of you to wait.”

  “I felt slightly lost, watching Sasha and Hope making love with their mouths, wondering when I’d get my turn. I didn’t wait long. Sasha whispered to Hope, loudly so I could hear her, ‘We can’t forget about Liza. It’s her last night. She needs to cum hardest of all. Then, they made sure I did.”

  Richard groaned, his loudest rumble so far, knowing we were nearing the story’s conclusion. He could cum at any moment. Now he was holding it, using the will that made him my man.

  “Sasha laid me back on the bed, exactly as I had done to her not long before, then I lifted my legs like she had lifted hers for Hope. She stripped my panties from my ass, over my legs, and onto the floor beside Hope’s. I spread my legs, and Sasha lowered her face in between them. I looked over at Hope, loving how her long, gorgeous hair spilled like flowing curtains from her head to her lap, where it tickled my skin as she kissed me. As Sasha’s mouth hit my pussy, my hand cradled Hope’s face, holding her against my open mouth as our tongues swam, one on top of the other in swirling circles. Sasha dug into me with her tongue as Hope kissed me. I felt my body spark to life, more than it had since leaving the States, and Zoe behind. I could feel how sticky I was, not just in and around my leaking center, but down my inner thighs. Sasha kept making me wetter. I dribbled juices from my hole into her mouth. She pulled away, looked up at me, caught my eyes, licked her lips, and made me cum.”

  “Slower,” Richard moaned. “Go slower.”

  Slowing my fingers with my speech, I drop my voice to a whisper. “Sasha took three fingers and pushed them inside me. She was decisive, knew exactly what she was doing, just how to get me — and I’m sure every woman she touched — humming in tune. With her palm pressed to my pelvis, she shoved her fingers past the knuckles, curled, pressed and thrusted as I wiggled around them. I lifted my head — it felt like the hardest thing I had ever done — to see what Sasha was doing at my middle. My legs trembled. I began to convulse, then rattled into the hardest orgasm I’d felt in a while. It tore through my body. Hope leaned down, and kissed me through it.”

  I started fucking myself hard with my fingers.

  “Are you ready to cum, Richard? I want you to imagine you’re filling my mouth.”

  Nothing but grunting.

  “Sasha kept fucking me hard with her hand. You should’ve heard me, Richard. I came so loud I’m sure there were complaints from our floor. My body didn’t belong to me. Hope had to hold it still by pressing her mouth against mine. She kept licking at my lips as Sasha thrusted into me, a flick of her tongue for every plunge. I rattled, heaved, and squirted.”

  A grunt from Richard, followed by more.

  “Are you cumming, Richard?”

  Another grunt.

  I picture his strong hands and worn knuckles, covered in cream.

  “I hope that’s all in my mouth, Richard. Mmmmmm … I’ll swallow every drop.”

  I can hear the wet slapping of Sasha’s hand in my pussy, followed by the echoes of us trading kisses well in the night.

  I remember the rest of the evening when we went back for seconds, then thirds, and by 3 a.m. when we had to sleep, Sasha asked me to go with them to Prague. I said no. She begged, and offered to pay my way. I said I could pay my own. She asked why I wouldn’t. I had no answer, so I went

  I tell Richard I miss him.

  “I miss you, too.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Soon,” I say. “Just one more stop.”

  One More Stop

  One more stop, then Richard.

  This one’s for observation. One of my oldest friends, Ellie, married her longtime boyfriend, Dean, three years ago. I need to see a married couple in their natural habitat. I went to Ellie’s wedding just before leaving the country. Things were slightly weird between us. We didn’t fight, exactly, but I thought Ellie was young to get married and told her so. I felt bad, but that was our relationship: She asked, and I always told the truth.

  Ellie was right, and I was wrong. There’s no such thing as too young or old to get married, at least not once you’re an adult. Getting married is a matter of deciding what’s right for you and your partner. Marrying Richard is right for me, even though I’m just three years older than Ellie was when I said she was too young.

  I have many friends, only a few married. Ellie’s the only one I take seriously. Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe my other friends are as serious as she is and I can’t see it. The women I know talk shit about their men when they aren’t around. Except Ellie, who I can’t imagine ever saying an unkind word about Dean, ever for anything.

  I called Ellie and told her I was getting married. I rambled on about Richard, expecting Ellie to chastise me, remind me of things said three years before. But she didn’t. Instead, Ellie squealed like a schoolgirl, congratulated me, asked me when the wedding was, and started to rattle through minutes of helpful, friendly advice.

  That was Ellie.

  I asked her if I could come out for a visit. She said she’d love that. She hadn’t had many visitors since she and Dean moved up the coast to Carmel.

  I wait for my plane and watch people in their many shapes and sizes. I feel bad, trying not to stare at the enormous couple across the way, wondering what it’s like when they have sex. I turn to another couple, not fat but weird. The guy’s shirt is buttoned all the way to the top. She’s wearing all black, like him. They both have too much metal shit sticking out of their faces and bodies. None of it like the tiny piercings I have in my stomach and nose. The weird couple, like the fat couple, seems totally in love, unlike the other variety who spreads like a contagion through the waiting area: couples who are simply there.

  Most of these couples probably started normal, not fat, weird, or anything else. Normal, fit, attractive, average at worst. But time and indifference has turned them complacent. They’ve lost the will to exert any effort. The guys have stopped going to the gym because they’ve found someone willing to fuck them regardless of their BMI. The girls have disheveled hair, sweat pants, and poorly applied makeup.

  This is what I worry about. What can’t happen with Richard. I love him and what we have, more than anything, but what if I grow bored? What if he grows bored with me? None of the couples around me probably ever meant to stop trying, they just did because it was easier.

  I love taking care of myself, and feeling pretty. I love going to the gym, doing yoga, working out, and maintaining my trim figure. I love the way Richard
stares at me, like most other men I encounter. Stares make me feel strong so I’m loath to lose them. Yet, no matter how much I wish it were true, it seems that being one half of a full couple brings you closer to being less than yourself.

  That’s why I have to see Ellie. She and Dean have been married for three years, but I feel like I’ll get better answers from her than anyone else. Even if Mark was straight, he wouldn’t be normal. Samantha isn’t capable of a relationship. My parents love one another, but are a total disaster. The relatively newlywed Ellie is my best bet for finding the insight I need.

  I called Ellie after leaving Zoe’s.

  “Are you kidding? I’d love to have you here! Stay as long as you want. We don’t get many visitors, except for my parents, who make me miserable, and Dean’s, who make me want to jump out the window and onto the rocks.”

  “The rocks?”

  “Yeah, we live on a bluff.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah, why move to Carmel otherwise.”

  Ellie’s waiting for me when I land. We laugh, and it’s easy. Dean isn’t home, which is best. I like him a lot, but want to catch up with Ellie first. Fortunately, I have her all night, and for the first time since leaving home, sex isn’t part of the picture. This stop is innocent.

  Ellie and I have fooled around before, but neither of us was especially serious. Our games came after Leigh, but before I met Zoe. I was still figuring things out. Ellie’s hetero, but likes to have fun and believed me when I said that it would be.

  We speak for hours, barely pausing. Ellie cooks for me, then I cook for Ellie. I tell her all about Richard and my recent quest. She laughs and says it all sounds so ridiculous, and sort of awesome. I laugh and say that she’s right.