They sat in a circle, the six friends who had been inseparable since the third grade. Now they were in high school, and soon they would be heading off to various colleges around the country. This was the moment they had talked about and looked forward to for months. The moment where they would let go of all their inhibitions and simply give in to what every teenager on the planet feels most of the time: lust.
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Ben laughed, finished off the wine in his glass, and then reached out for the bottle on the coffee table. Like a gentleman, he first tried to top off the ladies' glasses. Only a few drops trickled out.
"Damn, empty," he said. "Hold on, I'll go fetch a new bottle."
Ben left the room and went down to the cellar. Returning with a new bottle and the corkscrew, he paused for a moment at the entrance to the living room.
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When you open the door, the whole apartment is dark. You call out a name, knowing that your lover should be here... maybe he's asleep. You hit the light switch on the wall, but nothing happens. You flick it again. You can see the VCR blinking from the other side of the living room, so you know there's power. Well, maybe the bulb just burnt out.
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WE were at Mary and Huw's for a dinner party ... eight of us. Huw is a writer of modest achievement - so far as he always reminds us - who supplements his income lecturing at the local university. Mary, a striking woman in her early 40's, is a doctor.
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Sometimes I wake up at night and I can still feel her mouth on me. I wrap my arms around myself and ache to feel her body on mine, lick my fingers and wish I could taste her salty skin, find my hands inside my shorts and fool myself for just a minute that it is her hands on me, making me moan. Still, this is not nearly as difficult as being in her presence. To admire her, watching her move, studying every curve and remembering how my hands explored, no, loved every one of them. To talk with her, not hearing the sounds she makes, only seeing the shapes that form as they exit her lips, knowing how wonderful it felt to be inside her mouth.
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"Thanks for coming early with me, sweetie," I said. We were standing on the balcony overlooking the enormous atrium of the National Art Museum.
Stephen smiled. "You know why I did," he said as he watched the male servers in their tight black uniforms below us.
I patted his arm and smiled. "Whatever works for you."
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Daylight began to creep across the room. Reluctantly I woke up from my restless slumber. Memories of what had transpired last night came rushing back to me. Unbidden, tears started to flow, and I lay curled up in my bed, trembling with shame and pain. My battered body is a testament of how Papa had brutally raped me. I had lost count of the times he had taken me yesterday night.
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She had been my friend for years. We had watched each other grow up. We took baths together, compared breasts and traded clothes. She was my best friend.
We were so close, that she asked me to do something for her she was scared to let her boyfriend do.
Fuck her in the ass for the first time.
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She came home to an apparently empty house.
Strange, though, since his car was in the garage.
There was a note on the kitchen counter:
I'm upstairs waiting. Go take a long, hot shower and put on the outfit that I left out.
Don't worry. I'll make you dinner afterward. :^)
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Authors Note: This is not a quick porn story. It is a "romance" of sorts, so if you are interested in a quick read, this probably isn't the right story for you. Sorry. All of the characters are fictional, so if they bear any resemblance to someone IRL, they weren't intended to. Also, this is my first story that I have ever written – ever! Feedback would be wonderful. Thanks a bunch, and I hope you enjoy this!
S.H.D.
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