Best Timeline

"Don't make me laugh, you know what happens when I laugh."

The bottle of lube is brought into my hands and I get ready, up on my knees, determined.

I push two fingers in her, hand sideways.

"See if you can feel it from inside my vagina," she suggests.

We're past the point of asking if she's sure about that.

As soon as my other hand parts her lips away I understand lube wouldn't be necessary there.

And now I'm two & two fingers in. Her holes clamp around me, milking deeper in or loosening even deeper in. They respond to each other, trigger each other in a confusion of cuddly walls and tag along as I move my digits around to spread the lube everywhere that feels less soaked.

Inside her vagina I try to feel upward. To do this, my knuckles have to rub against what I guess is her G-spot. Taylor squeals, goose bumps and everything.

"Twas a bad idea," I say, leaving her vagina alone.

"Yes, you can say that.—Hey what you doin'?"

She felt me squirm on the bed. I'm trying to pull my panties down with two fingers trapped inside an ass. The tremors startled her.

"I take them off, they're chafing my um...thing."

Which is the truth and why I always go commando. I swear.

"Why did you put panties today?"

"Cause I'm gonna be a respectable actress."

If Taylor tilted her head above her shoulder she would get a priceless peek of my undies flying down my flapping legs and of strands of clear fluid stretching and breaking.

But it doesn't happen because she decides to tell me: "Hey remember your first time at the gynecologist? When they 'test your flexibility'? That's how I discovered I'm a squirter. It was awkward."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So you don't freak out in case it happens."

She takes my wrist and makes me understand two fingers aren't enough in her ass.

I add the other two. The squeezing sphincter of her anus is the most erotic feeling I've ever experienced. Strong and tender. Embracing. And new. Taboo I guess.

"What now?"

"You're gonna have to put your thumb in. You're gonna have to prepare me."

"Oh G— you mean...?"

"Yes!"

The idea is too much, I take my hand out, too abruptly: along with an obscene sound, her asshole stays obscenely open. Wide.

I don't watch porn but I know enough.

"See?" she says, spreading herself wider. "I can take it. And there's no other way."

"I don't know how to do that. I've never done anything close to it!"

"I'll talk you through it. Put your four fingers back in, I'm dilated enough already."

She's still gaping when I raise my hand again. It makes me feel obscene. It makes me feel hot. Like sweaty-hot, not hot-hot. The puckered rim shudders at my touch. I see myself penetrate her. "Push!" she moans and the last knuckles before the palm slip in.

I have to do it again and again, in and out. Til she tells me what I wann—what I don't wanna hear:

"Now make your fingers like a beak and do the same as before."

"Lube?"

"Lube."

Lube.

Putting the beak in is a different beast. Her anus is really straining to its limits. Just like her breathing. But my thumb finally discovers the ravishing warmth.

I pull out to the tip and then thrust back in, each time seeing a little more of my fingers sneak in.

"It will never fit!"

"It will," she says and then puts her own fingers in her pussy and comes caress mine through the thin membrane. It's like she's holding my hand, telling me everything will be alright.

How can something like this be so sweet? Only Taylor can pull out something like this, tenderness in double penetration.

I respond to her touch. We gaze at each other, realize what we're doing; her fingers leave me and go massage her clitoris.

She says it will help her relax. Somehow I can feel the effects on me: it gets easier, when it's not just all twitchy around me.

I could do it now. I could do it if I wasn't so afraid of hurting her or if I wasn't so afraid of Taylor enjoying it. Of me enjoying it.

She lets go of her clit, engorged, jutting out, so obviously sparkling on the inside I get a phantom sensation of it in mine.

"Once you get through, you close your fist around your thumb. Now do it!"

I push hard. We both groan. My hand is like sucked in, swallowed, and I see her anus closing around my wrist.

It's snug. It's mind-blowing. "Oh my gosh I'm in! I did it I'm in! It feels so incredible!" I wheeze above the muffled howls of Taylor raving into the pillows.

"Sel, don't freak out!" she grunts.

"What? What?"

"Don't freak out I think I'm cumming!"

"We said we're past this p—"

My mouth is interrupted, my ears ring with her yelps and my eyes widen as her hips buck up and down and three long jets of squirt splatter all over my dress, one after the other. Some of it mists into my gaping mouth. The rest leaks down my thighs. I'm so shocked I don't pay attention to the taste of her orgasm on my tongue. (I don't even lick my fingers after I've masturbated. I wash my hands, like a good girl.)

"I'm drenched!!"

"I'm so sorry! I couldn't control it! Take off your dress!"

"But I—"

"Take it off! It's so fucking intense I don't know how long I can take it!"

"I have to take my hand out!"

"Just tear the strap off!"

"BITCH I AIN'T RIPPIN' MY FUCKIN' DRESS!!!"

She grabs my forearm and yanks me out, grunting another squirt out of herself. This one is for the mattress. She turns around and peels my dress off, completely oblivious of how wide her asshole is gaping, completely indifferent that I've never been naked in front of her before.

She pauses at the glimpse of my bush, still a rarity in these dark times. I trim it short so it doesn't look like an afro, but I like my jet-black pubes. I cherish them. When I look at myself in the mirror I don't look like a little girl, I look sexual. It's like a sign saying 'There's a live vagina down there, come & get it'

I pause too actually; at the beads of Taylor's cum glistening in the fuzzy hairs. I've always loved having a load of sperm spread all over it. I love the sight of it, it's cute, and kinky. I never told her that.

But the pause is just that: a pause. Taylor is already getting into position for more fist-fu—fist-humping.

We decide that I should lie on my stomach and rest my elbow on the bed, forearm up so Taylor can ride it and control the penetration.

Immediately she's way bolder than me, squatting down til my hand pops in her. She's not any less bold with her reaction, an unashamed gasp of pleasure and a disregard for the fact that her pussy is now right in my face.

Missing the ambiguous meaning, I ask her if she thinks she'll squirt again.

"I'll shield you with my hand."

"Thanks," I mutter.

While I'm busy wondering if I'm actually disappointed or not, the bones of my wrist pass her sphincter.

I'm wiggling my closed fist inside her to clear the fleshy way. Whenever I point it toward her vagina, her moans get a little higher, a little more labored and a weak stream of squirt trickles down my arm.

Inch after inch her ass goes down. Inch after inch the sensation gets more overwhelming. I couldn't have imagined someone could come this hard if it hadn't happened to me before.

Panting is not enough for me anymore: I sneak out little sighs that I hope will be dimmed by Taylor's cries.

"Tay, a-are we... are we having sex right now?"

"I don't know. Are we?" she replies without a trace of irony. She's as lost as I am, lost between the urgency and the freedom we have found in this insulated ecstasy.

"You won't tell Karlie, uh?"

"Never."

Of course she has started rubbing her clit again. If she comes—When she comes she will ejaculate on my face. Something I never let any man do to me. Today I think my excuse will not be that Taylor is not a man.

"My legs are killing me, d'you think you can open your hand and see if you can touch it?"

As slowly as possible, I stir the walls around me, struggling to make that stupid beak again. When my fingers are cast into place and the pressure changes everywhere, one lone gush escapes Taylor and hits the back of my mouth. I swallow and appease my parched throat.

My voice is pure uncontrolled lust as I say: "That's it I can feel it! on my fingertips!"

"Do you have a grip?"

"No."

She spreads her cheeks and grinds ever lower. I'm way past mid-forearm.

The part of my body that is not inside her doesn't count anymore. I don't care for it. The vivid warmth, the weight, the endless contractions are my only reality, the only touch I taste, the only texture I take for my lasting memories. And my only mission.

I enfold my fingertips around the end of a slippery shaft. I can tell it's thicker than any penis I touched before. (I admit there wasn't a lot.)

I pull, fail to. I plant my nails in it, pull again. The dildo moves down a few inches and is sucked back in place.

"It's like your ass is suctioning it!"

Taylor sits down my arm to impossible lows and, with a combination of mutual trust and of orgasmic whines, I get to take the end of the toy inside my hand.

I hold tight, nod at Taylor, and she pushes on her knees.

"AW FUCK IT HURTS!!"

"Stop, I don't wanna hurt you! Don't move! We're gonna find another way!"

She collapses onto me, her arms and her hair around my shoulders, her heaving into my neck, our sweat mixing together.

"Perhaps if I cum the contractions will dislodge it."

"Ok."

She leans back and, propped up on one arm, she rubs her clit with the other. One last time.

Her elbow fails and she falls flat on the bed.

"My legs burn! My arms burn!"

"It's ok baby, let me do it!"

I bend down and put my mouth on her pussy.

My heterosexual tongue naturally knows how to do it, how to please a woman, how to push the hood out of the way and push Taylor to her limits.

At the peak of her moans, I seal my lips around her swollen clit and suck on it to a throbbing bruise.

I'm moaning too but not as loud as her. Only because my mouth is busy.

Taylor starts into her strongest, longest orgasm yet. The whole hotel will know.

Along her raspy, delirious groans, long spurts of pussy juice blast against my chin, rain around my neck, streak over my chest and down my nipples.

The awareness of my own body has extended: my captive arm still counts for the most present, but now my mouth registers its own unforgettable sensations, the hot flow and the fierce spasms of her bliss. But the happiness extends to the rest of my body, across my spine. My legs are spread and more than ever I feel the beating existence of my anus, my pussy, shivering against the cool air, against the absence of my fingers.

My hips are rolling softly but I don't forget the task at hand though, and I pull along the sweet clampings of Taylor's ass. The intruder descends out with me, as frustrated as my arm to leave the place.

Taylor draws back from my mouth, begging me to stop sucking, that it's too much, too good I hope. My knuckles pass her asshole, stretching it white and squeezing one last squirt out and right onto my face.

I see the silicone, it's pink, hidden under a foam of lube. The rest of the length comes out with a long-drawn-out sticky sound.

The large crown of the tip doesn't even pop out. Taylor is gaping too wide for that.

My arm is mine again. I fall flat on Tay, in what could be a friendly hug after hardships but I guess it's not.

I wrap her in my arms, drained, breathless, on the edge of coming hands-free. Did I mention we're both naked?

"Are you okay, Taylor?"

"Y... Yes..."

She doesn't have to tell me she just had the biggest orgasm of her life, I can see it. I can't think straight and I can see it. I roll to the side to give ourselves some oxygen.

What takes me a long time to realize is that I'm still holding the toy. It's warm from Taylor's body heat. That is such an erotic detail, I never thought about it.

I look at it. Nothing special about it (besides the size). I'm surprised it's shaped like a real penis but who am I to judge. There's no ballsack on it and this was probably the origin of her predicament; I guess that's the lesson for today: always have some balls?

I wipe the foam.

The tip is shiny, but not wet-shiny: gold-shiny.

There's a ring fixed on it, a golden ring. And under the last layer of grool, I notice something, neatly engraved—laser-engraved—across the length of the shaft. Letters.

W

I

L

L

Y

O

U

M

A

R

R

Y

M

E

?

"What the... Taylor, is this a joke?!"

"It's for Karlie."

Too stunned to speak, my face winces into that infamous frown of dread: one brow up, one brow down.

"Do you think she'll say yes?"