For The Fun Of It

"Alone, but she isn't bitter, she's actually very intelligent and quite a lot of fun. You'll like her when you get to know her, I guarantee it ..."

"But will she like me?"

"She likes everybody, in her own way. You'll see."

We walked along in silence for awhile, I had the impression Sue was hard in thought about something. And I was right. "The masturbation," she said, as we started walking after a long stop at a red light. "I'm not sure I get it." She didn't wait for a response but pressed on, "I mean we had sex last night, a lot of it, and this morning." She laughed, "How much sex do you need?"

I laughed a little, too, but I thought I detected some concern in her voice, as if I had an insatiable sexual appetite. "I had a whole iPhoto library of images of you ..."

"i photo?"

"Sorry, it's an Apple term, a photo database," I could see she didn't understand me so I shrugged, "it's a metaphor. Anyway, I had all kinds of images of you, really sexy images, images that really turned me on. They were floating around in my head," I laughed, "I was probably a little intoxicated by them, just a little bit dizzy," she had a curious look of confusion on her face so I quickly added, "And why not. You have a fabulous body, you were far more into sex than I ever expected, and, well, it was just great stuff. Fine. Then I picked up those panties and the rest, as they say, is history." I was really pleased that I didn't feel a shred of embarrassment. In fact, I was really glad to be talking about it. "Do you disapprove?"

She nudged into me, "Of course not. It was just the timing. I was barely out of the house when ..."

"Hey, what can I say. I wanted to scroll through all the pictures. Do you think I could do that without my prick in my hand? I mean, how much control do you think I have?"

We continued on for a few minutes in silence. I didn't want to interrupt her thoughts. If she had anything more to say on the subject I wanted to hear it. And I was looking for a segue into asking her about her own masturbatory proclivities.

"And now? Are the images gone?"

I stopped her for a dramatic effect. "I don't believe you quite understand, my dear. My intention was never to masturbate the images out of my mind. My intention was to masturbate the images into my memory, to reinforce them so I could draw on them in my mind's eye, as if I was opening a photo album. I never want to lose those pictures. Ever."

"Me sucking you ..."

"You got a problem with that? You were beautiful. But that's not what I remember most. What I remember most is that you were enjoying yourself and you were absolutely radiant. That's what I remember: the smiles, the laughs and the passion in your face. That was really, really sexy and I never want to forget it." We started walking again. We had covered a few yards when I said, "Really, I'm surprised I have to explain this. To me, it's a no brainer. Don't you masturbate?"

She hesitated before she spoke, as if she was a little uncomfortable with the subject. "Sure. Ya, of course."

"How much?" I snuck a peek at her and could see she didn't like the question, so I gave her a choice, "Daily, weekly, monthly, yearly?"

"Weekly, maybe."

"Well, when you do, aren't you thinking back to sexual experiences, or experiences you want to have?"

"Ya, but my databank, as you call it, isn't exactly full."

I laughed, "Well it's fuller now then it was 24 hours ago?"

"God, no kidding."

"Well, wouldn't you like to review some of the images from last night ...?"

"...or would I like to re-experience them?"

"Both, but you can do one alone, you need ..."

"I know." She nudged me again, harder this time, "And please don't make me go shopping again when the last image I have is of the man I love stroking his penis while smelling my panties. It was hard to care about bargains. It was hard to concentrate."

"I can tell you for an absolute, unalloyed fact that if our positions had been reversed, there would be one chance in hell that I would have gone shopping. Be there no doubt about that."

She laughed. "Maybe you should have this conversation with Laura. She knows a lot more about it than I do."

"Shopping or masturbation?" I laughed, intrigued.

"Masturbation. I shouldn't tell you this and I'll kill you if you tell her, but she masturbates virtually daily, or at least, so she says."

I was fascinated with this. "You talk about masturbation?"

"We talk about ways of coping, with work, with time, with pressure, with our man-less lives. Sure, we we talked about it, or, at least, she did. She's a very sexual lady."

I thought back to her stern countenance and found this powerfully difficult to believe, and I said as much. Sue just shrugged. But I couldn't leave the subject. "I've read that were men stroke themselves a few times, wipe themselves off and go about their business, women make a great production out of masturbation, candles and baths and clothes. Where does she find the time?"

Sue laughed. "I remember asking her the same question. She said she did it during the time she saved not having to cook and clean for a man."

I laughed, too, "God, she must really be able to go at it."

"You forgot something."

I didn't understand what she meant, "Forgot?"

"Toys. The candles, the clothes, the baths and the toys, 'a girl has got to have her friends,' that's a Laura quote." Then she added, "We often take a tour through her favourite sex store together."

Regrettably, we had arrived at our apartment building and the doorman was so quick on the buzzer that I had no time for follow-up questions. Well, that and her attack as soon as we got into the elevator, and in the apartment I didn't even have a chance to set-up my iPod on my new Boise speakers.

She was in my arms and her legs were rapped about me and her four limbs were almost crushing me in their vice-like grip, the girl is toned. "OK, you've had your release," she said referring to my panty sniff flog, "now give me mine."

I was about to say, 'get it like I did: do it yourself' but I didn't.

I know I have made this point a few times already, but it's been on my mind a lot: was our lousy sex in the past due to inexperience or lack of interest. I had another occasion to find out, because rarely have I wanted sex less than the person I was with. This was one of those times, or it sure appeared to be. She was squeezing me for all she was worth and she was hungrily sucking all the fluids from my mouth. I waddled her into the bedroom and tossed her roughly on the bed, well, not that roughly, she was laughing.

My plan was simple. I was going to be really tender, really sensitive; I was going to take my time, hours if necessary, to slowly strip her, item by exquisite item and to tease her to a point where she would beg me to fuck her. That was my plan. Hers was to tear off her clothes and to beg me to fuck her.

It sounded like a good plan to me, although I didn't much like the Laura part. We had encountered each other a few times in the few weeks after I moved in but our icy exchanges had yet to enjoy a warming trend. I liked her, as Sue said I would, it's just that there wasn't any of the warmth of a shared experience between us. Maybe this trip could provide it. Sue and I and Laura and her on-again, off-again beaux of a few months were to meet in a small town three hours away where we would get on the houseboat we had rented and over the next four days, slowly motor through a lake and lock system to our cars, which would be waiting for us at the other end. The weather probs. were great; the coolers was filled with beer; what could possibly go wrong?

Jerry could go wrong. He was a no-show. They had planned to meet at the boat on the morning of the afternoon we were to leave but he had sent word that he couldn't make it. As planned, Laura went ahead and bought all the food anyway, but when we showed up she was standing by her car, getting ready to leave.

Sue wouldn't hear of it. If she left, we all would leave, so she ultimately relented, although her heart wasn't in it, and we got on the boat and cast off.

It was a bit like sailing to a funeral. We motored down to the end of the lake, went through a lock and had just passed into the second lake when I opened by first beer, which meant I had an hour to find a mooring; the cops didn't piss around with we weekend warriors.

It was a beautiful night, miserably spent. Laura tried, but couldn't conceal her disappointment and because we has such an icy relationship it was up to Sue to make the evening as fine as the weather. She couldn't pull it off, no one could have pulled it off, so we were all in bed not long after nightfall, happy to be alone with our thoughts.

Laura proved a trooper the next day. The squall that had followed her the night before had lifted. She appeared to be as sunny as the weather. Was she faking it? I didn't know her well enough to know, but I appreciated her efforts, cut her all the slack she wanted and we had a great day of sailing, sunning and swimming. It was her idea to moor close to the little town and hit the pub. It was a good one, both the idea and the pub.

Why does beer taste better when you're relaxed. Why does food taste better? Why are people more interesting? Why is it easier to laugh? Why is life always more enjoyable in a small town than in any city? We spent three hours in the pub and were in really good spirits, no pun intended, when we took our little dingy out to the houseboat, moored about fifty feet from shore.

It was a beautiful night, warm and still, with a clear starry sky. I was leaning back in my chair looking at the sky when I announced my decision. "I'm sleeping up here tonight."

"Good idea," said Sue, "but I'm not sleeping on this," she said, thumping the flat, wooden roof.

It took us only a few minutes to drag the mattress from our room onto the roof and only a few more to ablute. It was such a beautiful night that a sheet would be all we'd need and we were under it, staring at the sky within a half hour of my rather inspired decision.

"This isn't fair."

"I know, but fuck the rich," I said, happily, "they love their country clubs."

"No, it isn't fair that we're up here and she's down there." Sue got to her feet, "Come on, give me a hand."

By the time I got up, found my pants and made it down to Laura's room, the protests were over and Sue was tugging at the mattress. In a few minutes our three heads were peeking from under the sheets as we lay in a straight line, girl, girl, boy staring at the twinkling stars.

No one said anything for about five minutes, it was that perfect, then Laura turned away and the squall of last night seemed to come storming back — even though she said nothing, you could feel it: the stars seemed less bright, the air seemed cooler, a chill had descended.

"Forget him." Sue sounded angry.

Laura's voice seemed muffled by the mattress, "I have." A gloomy silence ensued, then the muffled voice spoke again, clearly plaintively, "I want to share my life, I want to share somebody else's life. Evenings like this don't exist unless they're shared."

"Hello," Sue said, in her best Valley Girl imitation.

"You know what I mean," she said. We did. "I can't tell you how much I was looking forward to this weekend."

When Sue turned and gave Laura a hug I've got to admit, I felt the distinct feeling of the beginning of an erection. Under these circumstances, that simply wasn't on. It was one thing to be discovered masturbating, it was quite another to be caught enjoying the sight of one woman's consoling hug of another, both in negligees — I pressed the fingers of my right hand into the wrist of my left and thought about sliding down a bannister that turned into a razor blade — that had always stopped growing hard-ons in the past, well, sometimes it did.

The two were talking in whispers, consoling talk. Although I couldn't hear what they were saying, I found their whispers soothing so after a few minutes the squall felt like it had passed through and I relaxed and began to nod off, oddly dreaming about my new Boise iPod speakers.

I don't know how long I was asleep, not long, but Sue got up by almost rolling across my back, then she went downstairs I guessed to have a pee. When she returned she got back in bed, but on my left side, pushing me over on the mattress.

"What are you doing?" I whispered the words, not wanting to wake up Laura.

"I'm giving you some more images for your databank," she whispered, as she continued to bump into me, forcing me more towards the edge of the mattress. I didn't have any idea what she was talking about, but I moved as directed.

I flinched when my ass touched her and I could feel her almost jump at my contact before scooting away. "What are you doing?" My words were loud now and a little angry.

"Nothing," was all Sue said, then she turned into me, wrapping a leg over me and put her hand on my cock.

I froze physically, but my mind whirred rapidly. This was an all-time first for me and I wasn't at all sure I liked it. Sure I had dreamed of it a few times, me and two women in a bed, but I sure as hell didn't know how to deal with it. But when my heart stopped its irregular palpitations, my first thoughts were how exciting Sue had become. Imagine, having sex with your lover with your best friend in the next bed, hell, virtually in the same bed. I was scared but not so scared to scare off an erection.

She was nibbling on my ear now and occasionally sticking her wet tongue into it as she slowly pumped my organ. "How do you feel?" she whispered in my ear.

I whispered back, "Like I'm about to have sex with Brenda Waddling on the gym mat at Phs. Ed. — with the entire class watching."

"Whose Brenda Waddling?"

"What are you doing?"

I could barely hear her whispers in my ear, "You don't have to do this, but I want you to, honest, I want this a lot. I want you to turn and take Laura in your arms. I want you to hold her, to squeeze her to you. She'll probably fight you a bit but hold her awhile anyway and when she relaxes I want you to play with her, if she wants to and I'm pretty sure she does."

I was terrified, "You're fucking kidding."

"Do it. Do it for me. Please." Then she took her leg from me, took her hand off my stiff prick and gave me a bump with her hip.

It was something in her voice, I know not what, that told me she meant it. So, what the fuck, I had no idea why but I did precisely as I was told. I turned away from Sue, toward Laura, put my arm around the icewoman, taking her by the waist and I pulled on her while pressing myself, and my hard-on, into her back. She went as stiff as a board and remained like that, without protest, until I said, about a minute later, "I'm a loaner."

"A moaner?" Laura whispered.

"A loaner," I stressed the 'L', "From Sue."

"Sue?" The word was loud and with a really curious tone to it, which I won't even try to describe.

"Fuck Jerry," was Sue's response, as she pressed herself into my back, forcing me closer to Laura.

Was I to be a revenge fuck, or was I a Jerry stand-in, I wasn't sure of Sue's meaning, but whatever it was, the hardness in her voice clearly sounded like she meant it.

I waited, not having the first clue of what to do. But nothing happened ... for a couple of minutes while, I guessed, Laura contemplated her options. Then I felt her hand on mine and when she pushed it up to her breast I stabbed her with my hard-on.

Jesus, this was going to happen! I could feel Sue's fantastic melons pressing into my back; I could feel the heat from Laura' s somewhat smaller, but, at the moment, oh so much hotter breast in my hand and, but for a throbbing prick, I was frozen motionless, having no idea what to do.

But Laura did, and it didn't really involve me. I could feel the motion, it was almost imperceptible, but I could feel it so I took my hand from her breast and followed her arm to its source. Near as I could figure, she had three shimmering fingers in her pussy, wedged sideways between her tightly closed legs. It seemed a bit awkward so I gently pulled her on the shoulder, encouraging her onto her back. She came willingly and before she settled, I pulled up her negligee, took her nipple in my mouth and caressed the hand that caressed her pussy.

It was then that I noticed that my back was now naked of Sue's breasts so I pulled away from Laura's nipple and looked over my shoulder at Sue. Her head was propped up on her arm and even in the grey light I could see the angelic smile on her face. Honest to God, she seemed proud of me, or proud of both of us. She seemed happy she had got her wish.

Lying on a woman's chest, sucker her nipple while she plays with her pussy isn't all that uncommon, even to me. But when the woman you love is watching you with an approving smile on her face, well, you can take that basically one of two ways: either your woman is large-hearted and sexually magnanimous, or she is small-brained and sexually depraved. I was going to want a full and detailed explanation later, but for now, I saw Sue as enormously large-hearted (and delightfully big breasted) and I was going to do what I was told and I was being told, with a push from wet, sticky fingers on my chest, to lie on my back.

When I settled, she had my cock in her mouth and her hand between her legs. I felt a bit like a blow-up doll, that is, until Sue leaned over and with a mouth positively soaking with saliva, as if our exploits had been drool-worthy, she kissed me passionately, deeply and so forcefully that I thought her tongue tickled my tonsils.

Was this getting to me? God yes, I was on the verge but I didn't want to explode before Laura because it would be all over for me and this, I gathered, was supposed to be all about her, although I was determined to check on that later. But I was close, so I pushed Laura off my cock, gently at first and then insistently, because she really didn't want to leave.

But I sure didn't want to piss her off so I pulled away from Sue and brought Laura's leg over me and allowed her to settle on my face. She liked that, she liked it a lot, I could tell by the way she pushed her pussy into me, and I could tell my her moans, which had now climbed up the decibel range from a whisper to a roar. I stole a look at the blackened town to see if any lights were coming on.

This may sound a trifle self-serving but good sex to me has always been about pleasuring the other. Of course, that's a two-way street: you want the other to be just as intent on pleasuring you. Well, in this case, it was a three-way street because Sue was cupping my balls and really gently licking my prick, suspecting, I think, that one good suck could end it all for all of us.

This was great. Beyond making sure my tongue was rigid, all I had to do was lie there, enjoy Sue at my prick and Laura at my face. It was wonderful. I felt great about life. I even was enjoying the noise, which was so blatantly and primordially sexual that it occurred to me that for the first time in my life I was hearing the sound of hunger.

And then there was silence, but for an almost soundless whimper. She had collapsed on my face smothering me so I gently twisted her onto her back and I turned over and scurried between her legs to rest my head on her soft belly, putting my fingers into her soaking wet pussy to gently caress her nub, wondering if it was over.

Though she moved on my fingers, I guessed it was because she was caressing my hair and then the silence was filled by, "Thank you. God, Sue, thank you both."

My eyes had been closed, and when I opened them I saw Sue's knees. She was leaning over Laura and when I looked up, I saw her kissing her, on the forehead, on the cheeks and on the lips, lightly. "You're welcome, that's what friends are for." When they both laughed, I thought it strange, then I remembered that this was the line they used about dildos. In other words, I was a ...