Wish You Were Here

And then in swoops Cammie. She acts all chatty and happy to see me and asks to just borrow me for a moment, but as soon as she gets me away from him she's hustling me out of the club, saying, "You don't want to go near him, Tiffs. He's a real wolf."

"I don't care!" I whimpered as we got into the car. "I was looking for a real wolf, Cammie!"

She kind of shot me a confused look. "You were?"

And finally, almost three weeks of non-stop cock-craving spilled out of me, and I shouted, "I need to fuck, Cammie! I'm so fucking hot right now I can't stand it!" I was just about moaning those last few words out. All my self-control had gone right out the window. I'd been struggling not to break down and confess it to Cammie, because I didn't know how she'd take it if I dragged a hook-up back to the villa, but my brain was all fuzzed out on pink pills and my willpower had been running on fumes for days and that was the moment where it just sputtered and died.

Cammie got this sympathetic look on her face when I said it, though, and she patted my arm. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner?" she asked. She told the chauffeur to step on it, and we got back to the villa in record time. "Take off those clothes," she said to me as she went into her bedroom. "I'll be right back."

I peeled off my clothes (and I do mean "peeled" in the case of my panties--they were so wet they were sticking to my skin) and went into my bedroom. I was thinking she was maybe calling up an escort service, or dialing up a couple of muscle-bound young hunks she knew.

But instead she walked into my bedroom, wearing nothing but this sort of crotchless underwear type get-up, and jutting out of that was...

Oh. My. God. Bev, you know me. I have always been, very proudly and vocally, all about the cock. Tongue and fingers? Puh-lease. I want something stiff and warm, and I want it as big as possible. I didn't think it would be possible for me to ever get turned on by anything that had a pussy.

But the thing Cammie was wearing...it was to a cock as a Camaro was to a Model T. It was all ridges and bumps and extra prongs in special places, and it vibrated and it gyrated and it was even heated to 98.6 degrees. Oh, and it was eleven inches long and about as thick as your wrist. This thing was the ultimate fuck toy, Bev. Cammie says she owns a sex toy manufacturer, and she had this thing specially made to her exact specifications. It is designed to leave a woman flat on her fucking back.

I just stared at her for a long moment. I couldn't talk. I was drooling, Bev, literally salivating. I had never seen anything so hot in my fucking life. Cammie walked over to me, and that thing wiggled with every step. I couldn't take my eyes off it. She looked like a different woman when she was wearing a strap-on dildo, like all of her beauty suddenly went from being something to admire (or maybe to be jealous of) to something I wanted, needed, couldn't live without. Like I couldn't imagine how I hadn't seen her this way before. She pushed me back onto the bed, and then bent my legs up near my head. I grabbed them with both hands, just so totally thrilled that I was finally going to get that fucking I needed.

But I didn't, not right away. Cammie leaned forward so that the cock was just rubbing up against my pussy, and then she smiled. Remember how I said I was so horny I was ready to beg to be fucked? Well, Cammie made me. She waited until I was whimpering and babbling, telling her I'd do anything to have that fake cock inside me, and generally acting like a horny little bitch in heat before she finally slid it on in.

And in, and in, and in...oh, Bev, you have got to try this thing! It was finding erogenous zones I didn't even know I had, and every time she slid it all the way into me, the little prong on the end bumped my clit and vibrated about three times faster than the rest of the dildo. I could not believe how good it felt--I came faster than I thought I ever could, just from the feel of it filling up my cunny. And she just kept fucking me, too. Normally I'm lucky if a guy lasts twenty minutes inside me (not to toot my own horn or anything), but Cammie never had to worry about cumming or going soft. She could just pump me until her hips got tired, and all that exercise turned out to be good for something after all.

After a while, I let go of my ankles so that I could wrap my legs around her and pull that thing as far into me as possible, and I was kind of shocked that I really enjoyed running my hands over her body. I liked the softness of it, I liked the curves, I loved her breasts--she was whispering in my ear, talking dirty to me, telling me how good it felt to be helpless and horny and fucked by a woman, and oh God was it true. It all just sort of crystallized in my head somewhere around my fourth orgasm, how all I'd ever really liked about guys were their cocks, and that Cammie looked better with a cock than any guy I'd ever seen. I kissed her, and I even loved the way she tasted.

She literally fucked me until I passed out, and I woke up to find her caressing me and whispering in my ear some more. It got me so horny that I begged her to fuck me again, but she made me eat her out for something like an hour before she finally gave in and pounded me doggie-style for a bit. (And by "a bit", I mean a half-hour. We wound up spending pretty much the whole day in bed together.)

So there you go, Bev. I seem to be a hetero girl in name only, now. Like I said at the beginning, I hope this doesn't freak you out too much. You don't need to worry about me making a pass at you, I promise. You're my BFF, but Cammie's the one making my pussy purr. (Get it? Get it? Oh, you know you miss my sense of humor.)

And I miss you. I'm thinking about maybe asking Cammie to take a little day-trip to visit you.

Hugs,

Tiffany

*****

Postmarked April 16th, 2009

Dear Beverly,

Could you do me a tremendously hugely huge favor? I, um, kind of need you to buy a plane ticket back to the States for me, and send it to me here at the club. I'll totally pay you back when I get home--after all, I've been on paid leave for two months now, with no living expenses, so you know I'm good for it.

Don't worry, it's not that things have gone south between me and Cammie. It's just that...well, things are so nice here that I keep forgetting to ask about heading back. I keep getting distracted. I'll be starting to think that maybe I should ask Cammie to fuel up the jet, or whatever it is she does, and then Andrea tells me it's time for my massage, and I lie down on the table and my brain just goes all blank and soft while she turns my muscles into putty. Or I'll be just about to bring it up, and Cammie does that thing she does with her tongue to my nipples, and suddenly I've spent a whole day licking her pussy and I'm wondering where the time went. It just seems like it's so hard to stay focused on anything but sex and pleasure.

And whenever I do bring up the idea of maybe taking a trip back home, Cammie just traces a finger down my lips and suggests that we could do it a little later, because she can tell that I'm feeling all turned on right now and she's thinking that maybe I'd like it better if she ravished me like the horny slut I am. And the second she says it, all my willpower just dribbles out between my legs and I just want to do exactly that, and by the time she's done fucking me I can't think about much of anything anymore, and it's a day or two before I even remember what we were talking about again.

And part of me knows that I can just book the tickets myself, but I've gotten so used to people doing things for me that everything seems like too much work now. I've stopped even trying to figure out how to work the phone or the email, and every time I think about trying to go somewhere else to book a flight, my thoughts just sort of chase themselves in circles for a while trying to come up with a plan that doesn't just involve asking Cammie to get her chauffeur to drive me, and I lose track of things and it just seems easier to put on my earbuds and soak in a hot tub for a while instead. The only thing that doesn't seem like too much effort to do is write you a letter, and I think that's just because I miss you so much. (I think this is the most time we've spent apart since you had the mumps in second grade!)

But if you could just go ahead and send me a ticket, I think that having it right there in my hands would help a lot. It'd be really great to see you again, and we can hug and chat and I can tell you all about how awesome Cammie is and you can try out my MP3 player (and the dildo, if I can get it through Customs.) I can't wait to see you again!

Hugs,

Tiffany

*****

Postmarked April 19th, 2009

Dear Beverly,

OK, you're obviously going to think that this is me being a total scatter-brain, but that last letter I sent you? Totally ignore it. Just crumple it up, throw it in the trash, and forget I ever sent it. If you already paid for a ticket, try to get a refund. If you can't get a refund, Cammie will totally pay you back.

See, I told her yesterday about the letter I sent you. At first, she was kind of hurt--she seemed really surprised that I'd want to leave all this behind. She said she thought she had me better trained than that. (Makes us sound like we're in one of those kinky Master/slave relationships, doesn't it? Not that the idea doesn't have a certain appeal to me...) But I told her that I loved her and I adored her, and after a nice long session of licking her out, she was convinced I was telling the truth.

After that, we talked a bit more while she fucked me nice and slow, and I explained that I really just missed you lots and lots and lots, and how close we are. That seemed to really sink in for her. She kissed me and said, "No wonder you managed to send that letter, pet." (That's her pet term for me, 'Pet'. Get it?) "She means a lot to you. I suppose I really can't get you to forget her the way you forgot about everything else, can I?" And of course, I told her no. I don't care about my aunt or my sucky job, but I'm not letting go of my best friend.

So she came up with the awesomest idea ever. (Her ideas are so great!) Instead of me wandering off out of pussy-worshiping distance, she's arranging for you to come visit here! There's a ticket enclosed with this letter, and she's already worked things out with your company the way she has with mine. In just a few days, you and I will be hanging out in Paradise Island with Camille Rothschild for as long as you want! Is that not the ultimate in cool? I've been wishing you were here this whole time, and now you will be!

Cammie's totally looking forward to meeting you, too. She's already bought you an MP3 player.

Hugs and Kisses,

Tiffany

THE END