For The Fun Of It

We had lunch in mid afternoon at a table on the deck, me and the two bras. They were both flimsy things, very low cut and clearly showing the aureola and nipple, and lots of cleavage. As I looked over my tuna salad, I didn't bother to conceal my efforts to scrutinize them, I mean if they were going to tease me, fine, I'd at least take advantage of it.

There is no bias here, but Sue's chest was by far the more impressive. Even though her breasts were enormous, they hung in their light green bra with casual confidence, and they gracefully and obediently flowed with her movement, as if well trained. They were, by any measurement, perfect twins.

Laura's breasts on the other hand, while magnificent, seemed to be more individualistic. The left appeared slightly larger than the right and while both sagged elegantly, they did so to differing degrees, splaying away from their cleavage, leaving a long crater to Sue's tight crevasse. The wrinkles where the breasts began their descent were oddly sexy as were the brown freckles that dappled the breast so alluringly against their soft yellow holster.

My mouth might have been slightly agape because, though I had yet to touch the salad, Sue suggested I use my napkin.

It was a wonderful afternoon. We had a schedule to keep: if we wanted to get to our destination the next day at a reasonable time to drive home we had to press on. To make up for the frequency of our swimming stops, we agreed that I would pilot as dinner was prepared and we would aim to eat just before dusk. And just before dark I dragged my knife across the thick, juicy steak.

No one said much after dinner. We just sat back contentedly sipping our wine and, I'll speak for us all, we marveled at the magnificence of the day and the unique richness of the experience. An hour later we were under the sheets, staring at the sky that had been so kind to us.

"I'm loving this." Sue whispered the words in my ear as she swung a leg over me and slid her hand down my body to my penis. "And I'm loving you."

I turned my head and we kissed lightly, not passionately — affectionately, familiarly, as if the nibbling connection was enough. Throughout the day I had wondered what the evening would bring. I knew I wouldn't institute anything, I still had difficulty adjusting to the presence of another body in my bed, so I had no plans to explore any of my untapped primordial lust. But that didn't stop me from speculating on the primordial lust of the others. As a result, the afternoon seemed to whizz by in a fast-forwarded video of arms, legs, pussies and breasts — erotic, yes, but, oddly, my depraved thoughts no longer seemed so ... depraved.

When Sue bit my bottom lip I felt a slight stab of pain, then she slowly dragged her face down my torso, kissing as she went until she rested on my lower belly with my pecker in her mouth. It's amazing how quickly you can become accustomed to dramatic change. Unlike the night before, this time when she noisily sucked on me my first thought was now much I loved her. I didn't give a passing thought to my other bed mate.

"Laura?"

"Hmmm." The voice was just a few inches from my ear and seemed to come from a dreamy place. Knowing her, she had probably put her hand between her legs the moment Sue went south.

"Show me."

'Show me!' My eyes widen in alarm. 'Show me!' What in Christ could she mean? I hesitated before I looked down my body. Sue had my prick pointing to the North Star; she was looking over at her friend ... who was now rising to her knees and with her breasts flapping freely, scooting over to my celestial compass. 'Show me!' What in the fuck was this all about? Now, my compass didn't seem so proud and tall; now my polar sun dial seemed to be shrinking from the attention. 'Show me!' What in the fuck could Laura show Sue that involved my prick?

Once in place, Laura didn't hesitate. She took my prick and very carefully placed her lips on it and excruciatingly slowly lowered her head, lower and lower and lower until her lips could go no further and the full length of my member was lodged tightly in her throat. She hesitated, but only for a moment and then she began to slowly bob her head and my stiff prick warmed against the wet friction of her throat. And then she was out.

"It's simple," she said, repositioning me to the Star. "The key is to relax. You must relax," she demonstrated by taking a deep breath through her nose, filling her chest, and then slowly exhaling through her mouth as she once again slipped in my member. She went a little faster this time, down, down and down, and when she reached the base, she resurfaced slowly with her lips tightly pressed against me, acting as a drag.

"You have to relax." She emphasized, "and you must open your throat. Try it." Sue reached for my cock but Laura lightly slapped at her hand, "No, try some dry land training. Relax. Breath in, feel your chest expand, breath slowly out, and then try to open your throat as if you're gargling."

As I looked on in surreal stupefaction, Sue did as directed, throwing her head back so her throat would more easily open.

"That's it," said Laura, enthusiastically, now watch my head when I'm there." Again, she went down on my, slowly, deliberately and when I was home, she bobbed her head, very slowly at first and then quickly, so quickly that I had to pull her off me or it would have been lights out.

With my prick in her hand, she looked over at me, "Sorry," she said, then turned to Sue, who was kneeling now and deep in concentration. "Your turn."

It took her a few tries, the first three were awkward — and a little painful, to us both, but eventually she got it, eventually her lips reached deep into my pubic hair and when they did, she jerked her head back while stabbing the air with her right fist in triumph. "Yessssss," she yelled, then she bent down and kissed my member like it was some kind of team mate and when she did, Laura, who was sitting back on her heels, began to stroked Sue's hair, then she gently pulled Sue across my body and into her arms. She kissed Sue on the forehead, long and lingering, then she lay her down beside her, just off to my left on the other mattress, and she got on her knees and began to suck on Sue's left breast while massaging the other with her hand.

We've all heard stories about people who stand by idly as an accident takes place and when they think back later, they don't understand why they didn't move to prevent it. That's how I was feeling; that's how I had been feeling since Sue asked Laura to 'Show her.' It all seemed like one long accident that I was powerless to prevent.

Now I was in paralysis as I watched Laura's hand move from Sue's breast, slowly, down her soft, tight body to the silken bush that lay open in welcome. I moved: once to rise up so I could get a more comfortable viewing angle, and a second time to get out of Laura's way as she moved between Sue's legs to kiss her way up Sue's thigh to her pussy.

I waited for the cry. The protest. I heard only moans. I waited for the struggle. The defense. I saw only legs that bent up and then out. I waited for my voice to speak, my hand to move — heart to beat. But nothing, nothing but fascination at the utter transformation of a lousy lay to a wanton sex goddess.

The rest of the trip went by in a nervous blur. All I wanted was to be alone with my thoughts. To work things out. To try to understand, what I had experienced, what I had seen. But I was never alone. One of them was always with me and always in conversation, light, friendly, happy, enthusiastic conversation as if this orgiastic trip had been little more than a walk in a pleasant park.

I was glad to see the final dock. I was glad to see our cars. I was glad to give Laura a perfunctory peck as she got into her car. And I was glad to close the door to ours, to shut out a world I no longer understood.

We were three hours from home, three hours until I could take back my life, three hours before I could find the girl I loved, the girl who may have been a lousy lay, but afterwards, after we had had our lousy sex she hugged me as if I was the only person in the world, as if I was the only guy in the fucking world that mattered.

We said nothing as we drove out of town. I had nothing to say. I needed time. I needed to think.

Sue pulled an emory board from her purse just as we gained the freeway. Then she leaned against her door, crossed her legs and lost herself in the senseless act of filing her nails.

This irritated me, really bothered me. I don't know why but it did. Jesus, we had just gone through a potentially life altering experience. I needed to talk about it, to understand. She needed to file her fucking nails. We got about five miles down the highway when I lost it. "Well?" Even to me my voice was too loud and too angry.

The file stopped on a nail and she looked at me with confusion. "Well, what?"

"Well. Are you a lesbian?" There, in four words, I shouted out my problem.

Sue seemed almost disinterested as went back to her filing. "Laura wanted to try it. She has met someone, a lesbian. She is attracted to her, but not sexually. So, she wanted to try it, to see if there was a possibility, sort of a trial run to see if she could deal with it. I thought, well, maybe you'd enjoy it, so I asked her to take a test run on me. She didn't want to but with everything else we've tried it seemed like, well, just another step in the adventure you wanted. She did. And, it seemed, you did."

I felt like someone stuck an ice pick in me: all the air seemed to rush from me, all my doubts and angst, too.

She was concentrating on her nails. That lurid descent in abberational promiscuity was just a harmless act of sexual exploration. For me. Jesus, I needed to lighten up. I needed to show her I loved her, appreciated her, that she was brave to sacrifice herself for a friend — that her actions had been noble, selfless, wholly justifiable. Laudable. To lighten the air I laughed, "Well," I said, "so much for Jerry."

The file again stopped on a nail. She was confused when she looked at me. "Jerry?"

"Jerry," I said, cheerfully, "Laura's on-again, off-again boy friend."

The file started to move again, slowly and carefully against the polished nail. "Oh, him, ya, Jerry. No, no, we made him up." Then she looked over at me. The mischievous smile that had altered so many of my days glowed in her eyes. "For the fun of it."