Broken Seals Ch. 07

Honestly, it was a bit awkward, and while only a few seconds, it felt like minutes as I self-consciously caressed my body when maybe, as a way to just alleviate it, I blurted: "Will you get my back?"

"Of course!" Quinn took the loofah and put a good bit of soap on it, roughing it up in her hands, and then our eyes met in a weird split-second, which made me turn around to present my back to her. Like she instructed me a minute earlier, she grabbed my hip with her free hand (but much more firmly) and then started scrubbing my back.

"Oh! Oh...oh...oh fuck..." It felt better than the first time I got a professional massage; she seemed to scrub the shit out of a layer of dirt that I didn't know existed. She started around my neck, and I almost melted. I wasn't even conscious of the moaning, and was surprised when she asked:

"Are you okay? Too hard?"

"No!" Oh my fucking god, please do not stop. She kept going, working that thing over me so hard, scraping so much off me, I started to actually get a little weak in my knees. I braced myself in the shower by putting my hands flat against the shower wall, which let Quinn go even harder on my back with the loofah. She took her time, went much longer than I did with her, much more thorough. And also unlike me, she went past my lower back, and went straight onto my ass cheeks.

Up to that point my eyes were closed and I was enjoying what was, in effect, a massage, but I opened my eyes and tensed up a bit when she started working my glutes. After all, I could reach my glutes no problem...why...

"Hey, after we move out, I really want to get the chest piece I was talking about. Will you hook me up with your guy?" She asked, regarding the tattoo artist who did my piece.

"Uh...yeah, of course. You know I'm going with you, right?"

"Ha! We wouldn't be friends anymore if you didn't. I fucking EXPECT you there." She squatted and then started to do my legs. She scrubbed my legs very conscientiously, but that started to awaken a beast. Her right hand was helping to brace her, and was forcefully gripping the uppermost front of my thigh. Her fingers were less than an inch from my bush. Again, I thought about what was happening here, but also kind of didn't care because this was too good.

Quinn was treating it so summarily that I didn't perceive any kind of undue lingering from her. And then she read my mind: "Here, I'll just do the rest." She then grabbed my right shoulder and moved until her pelvis was in full contact with my ass, the loofah hand wooshed around my left and started scrubbing the center of my chest between my tits.

Again, it was an unknown sensation, but extremely pleasing in the moment, and my hands held where they were against the tile, resigning myself to letting her do the work. The back of her hand was unmistakably touching my tit as she rubbed the middle, but of course, she then moved to the girls themselves.

I moaned involuntarily. Impossible to know if Quinn reacted in any way, but I think she knew that what she was doing was good, and that she should keep going. It being much more sensitive tissue than my back, her force adjusted beautifully, to slowly (but still forcefully) scrub the undersides of my breasts. Holy shit, now THIS was a shower. She continued to work and told me to 'hold still' because my armpits were perfectly exposed for her to keep scrubbing.

It was at a point where I was feeling the most sensations: Quinn's pelvis on my ass, her hand on my shoulder, the loofah making huge circles around my chest and tits, that she took a liberty and I didn't stop her. She took her right hand off my shoulder, reached around and grabbed my right tit...hard.

That lingered. It was somewhere between one and two seconds, but there was no mistaking it, and yet she kept playing cool: "Okay girlie. You can rinse off." And just like that she stepped out of the shower and closed the curtain behind her. "Your towel's on the counter!" she yelled on her way out of the bathroom.

I had enough presence of mind to rotate under the spray, but I had been...awakened. I wasn't just aroused, it was a...jolt. I know many more women than me have suppressed things much longer, but there's a universal feeling of profound relief when repression can simply no longer take place, the feelings you've forbidden yourself to feel for a length of time come rushing through and it's more intense than even the first time. I was so wet that when I even stopped the shower, I couldn't be sure if I was dripping from the water or from my lady. She was hungry.

Yet here I was, with just a towel and a night-shirt, and my day-old clothes to get back into when the night was over. As I dried myself off, I continued to think about what was happening and if I wanted what I wanted. I took a deep breath and folded up my clothes, taking the steps to Quinn's room. She had a queen-sized bed that was perfect for two people our size, and she was on one side, in a big t-shirt like me, plugging in her phone. I tossed the clothes on her desk chair and went over to the bed. I got under the sheet, sitting up next to her. I could smell her.

"Do you need a charger?"

"No, thanks, it'll make it to tomorrow."

"Some warm milk? Anything?"

I laughed, "No."

She put a hand on my shoulder and made me catch her eyes, "Okay, well, if you need anything, this is your house too." My heart started racing at her touch. Her touch was electric on me, and I wondered if she heard how much my breath changed in that instant, getting much faster and shallower. "What do you usually like to do before bed?"

"Uh...I dunno, play with my phone, usually."

"That's bad for you; I need to stay off a screen when I wind down."

"Okay...well uh...what should we do?"

"So, I'll be honest..." she then switched the table light off, plunging us into darkness. "I usually play with myself and it's a great way to relax." I felt her rustling around under the covers, and then heard a small piece of cloth hit the floor; I assumed she took off her panties. She slid down so she was covered from her chin down, then let out a long sigh. "Sorry, this'll just take a few minutes."

Ever since the assault, I had been actively suppressing sexual thoughts. I hadn't had sex or masturbated in months; frankly, I was a little terrified of that side of myself. Why terrified? I can say now after some years of therapy that it was a coping response to the trauma, revolving around the fact that I had had an orgasm during the ordeal. The fear of men was secondary to the fear of my sexual subconscious, which seemed to "enjoy" what had happened to me. When I wasn't aroused, when I pushed those thoughts away, I was both in control and had the "right" emotional response, which is to say I was horrified and disgusted. And so I effectively forbade myself from having those kinds of thoughts and feelings.

Yet in that moment, Quinn was seducing me, or at least bringing out that energy. My thoughts weren't even drifting to what I usually considered erotic, namely a well-hung man fucking the shit out of a woman's pussy. This was different; it wasn't even that I was turned on, it was that all my senses were heightened. I heard the little rhythmic rubs Quinn's hand made against the sheet; I heard every little modulation in her breath. Though I didn't smell her because she was well-covered, I did subtly sniff the air around me, searching for the smell of pussy that was familiar to me whenever I masturbated on a warm day. Maybe it was just...the "energy" but I was getting extremely turned on.

Quinn's mouth was only slightly parted, her breathing in tune with something going on in her head of which I wasn't privy...but I wanted to be. "Hey uh...you're not gonna use uh...Kandinsky?"

Quinn chortled: "Oh my God...hahaha, I forgot we named it that. Um...yes, yeah, but, hehehe, he's so loud! You know? So, I dunno...I didn't wanna bother you with that."

"It wouldn't bother me," I said way too quickly.

Quinn paused ever-so-slightly, then rolled over and turned her bedside lamp on. I mean...if you don't care."

"No...I don't care." I very much cared, leering at a tiny bit of the bottom of her bare ass that was exposed when she crossed the room to dig through a drawer to pull him out.

Having gotten him out, she came back to the bed, and re-enveloped herself in the covers, this time with a massive, blue, vibrating dildo whose audible humming let me know what setting she preferred.

I had sunk down, also completely covered, my head close to her level, and before I knew it was happening, I was rubbing myself over my panties. No decision was made. My body wanted this so badly, it had been way too long, and I was beyond soaked. I thought about asking Quinn if I could do the same thing, just rub one out, and then, somewhere under the covers, my knee touched hers.

We both gasped and I looked at her, but she kept her eyes closed and face to the ceiling. "Sorry..."

"It's okay," she whispered, clearly building to something.

"Do you care if I'm uh...doing the same."

"No," she answered, also way too quickly. I quit being shy about our legs touching, and rubbed my knee right on her, as we were both wide open, but now the sheet rose with Quinn's knees, and she gave up trying to be quiet, moaning a little to accompany the hum of Kandinsky. I couldn't see what was happening, but she had on a low-level, steady vibration that she seemed to be moving in circles around her clit.

I copied Quinn's move and got my panties off under the covers, kicking them somewhere into the sheets, then resuming my position. I reached down and pressed two fingers on my clit and I literally felt myself release a bunch of cream. This was going to be a messy one for sure. I thought about asking for tissues, but didn't want to bother Quinn while she was "in the zone," so to speak. I didn't even have to dip inside or even lick my fingers like I used to, just touching down to my perineum I scooped up more than enough of my juices to lube up my fingers for a vigorous clit-rubbing.

As I was entering my own headspace, I suddenly heard the steady whir from Quinn quiet down to almost nothing while she gasped. I looked over and her eyes had popped open, staring at the ceiling for a second, then relaxing gradually back down to being closed.

"Oh...did you finish?"

"No." She expelled through her breath. I noticed that instead of her hand moving, she was now moving ever-so-gently to a rocking kind of rhythm. Maybe she sensed my perplexity and after a few seconds added: "He's inside me."

"Oh..." I remember thinking how funny it was that even though I hadn't touched myself in so, so long, my fingers picked up "my rhythm" like I had done it just yesterday—like riding a bike, as they say. My rhythm: three fingers, flat and together, rubbing in circles, but staccato, not really a rhythm, I just know how to press and where and...that's my body, I suppose. There was one new element though: my labia piercing. I hadn't masturbated since I got it; I didn't have the mental appetite, and franky, it hurt like hell for a week, which is probably why I decided to get it, but now...NOW...holy fuck, is all I can say.

Quinn was gasping hard every once in a while and moaning, and so because she had her eyes shut, I took advantage and just got an eyeful of what her face was doing, which was amusing and erotic at the same time. I then started to notice my own discomfort at how extremely warm it was getting under her covers; Quinn's upper lip was perspiring under her labored breathing. "Can we get out from under these?" I asked, not waiting for an answer but pushing the cover off.

"Oh my God, yes," Quinn said sitting up and flinging the sheet, cover, and blanket off of her. Of course, I couldn't help looking: bright blue Kandinsky shoved as far as I could imagine comfortably inside her with the clit-stimulator on its right spot. Quinn also went ahead and peeled her shirt off; I couldn't tell you how, but her entire body looked warm to the touch, like she had a fever, but...vibrant, not ill at all. She flopped back onto her pillow, face up, eyes closed, and immediately started digging a trench with Kandinsky.

Again, I was so unsure of the situation. I was horny as all hell, and definitely needed to get off, but was Quinn making a pass at me? Are we going to...does she want us to...do this...together? I know it's absurdly naive now, with all my experience, that a girl getting naked and masturbating in front of you isn't a "pass," but in the moment, it felt like an open question of whether or not this was something two really close friends just do and be done with or...is this something bigger? And frankly, up to this point, despite being raised very liberal, I didn't have a gay bone in my body (that I knew of) and so...what was this?

But I liked how for the first time in a long time, my sexual arousal wasn't tied to fear. I was so comfortable in that moment, that frankly, I was down to do anything, and when the thought occurred to me to rip off the blanket, get naked, and open my legs, I was down to see where this went and did just that.

"Oh God!" Quinn's eyes flew open, and then she shot her head at me, catching me staring at her. I held her gaze for a few seconds—our heads were only a little more than a foot away from one another, and there was the obvious, palpable electricity in the air, of us doing something so, so wrong. I wanted Quinn so incredibly badly in that moment, but instead of fireworks flying, she defused it all, "I'm sorry, I'll be done in a minute." She said it smiling, like she was caught being a little too indulgent with a box of chocolates.

I smiled back, "Oh my gosh, please, just take your time. I'm good here," and I made a show of rubbing my clit. Even though we didn't kiss, the veneer had come off, and we were openly gawking at each other's bodies as we masturbated, clearly getting off on each other. I was salivating at the sight of Kandinsky going in and out of Quinn; she needed no lube and it made a sheen of her juices around the main head. Her feet were planted firmly and she wasn't pushing the vibrator in and out so much as she was thrusting her hips up to it. If that was the way she fucked, she was one hell of a partner for any guy. Meanwhile, I noticed her eyes on me, darting between staring at my lady and my tits—but mostly my tits, probably because they bounced in a mesmerizing way.

As I stroked my clit, I couldn't help but feel jealous, but wasn't sure if it was of Quinn or Kandinsky. "Do you wanna borrow him?" She asked, probably surmising from my staring. "Too bad you didn't bring Andre."

"Well I didn't know we'd be doing this. Unf...besides, it's been so long, I don't know if I could handle him anymore,"

"He's the same model as this guy, right? Just a different color?"

"Yeah."

"Here."

"Oh that's okay..." I should've known she'd do that; Quinn's instinct is always to jump in and help where she can, so if she'd give you the shirt off your back, why not the dildo from her pussy?

"Get over here girl." She held Kandinsky (now off) in one hand and used the other to push my knees apart. I had instinctively closed them because I was a little mortified at the state of my bush, but Quinn wasn't even slightly phazed. She licked the flats of her fingers but when she touched me: "Holy shit, I don't think you even need warming up, you are...hot." She placed Kandinsky at my entrance and started to rub up and down around my clit. "What the fuck?! When did you get THAT?" I knew she was referring to my labia piercing.

"Oh...oh yeah, sorry, um...like three months ago...before the holidays."

"Can I check it out?"

"Of course." Quinn withdrew the vibrator and moved her head closer while holding my left labia majora in the thumb and forefinger of her hand. She inspected it, good natured and full of wonder. I started to feel a little paternalistic to her, clearly beating her in badassery this one time.

"It's so pretty...how does it feel when you touch it?"

"Oh God...like fire and electricity, I don't know..." I helped her out, reached down and spread apart my other labia so she could get a really good look at it. I watched her eyes, fascinated, as if mulling over if she would get one too. I moved my fingers around. I couldn't believe I was masturbating for my friend, letting her watch me pleasure myself.

I began picking up the pace, and my fingers touched hers, and she snapped out of it, released my labia, then gave my lady a gentle rub to see if she was still wet enough (she was). Then, she brought Kandinsky to my opening and pushed. "YES!" Quinn exclaimed as she pushed in with almost no resistance all the way to the hilt. Even though I was wet and my lady devoured the phallus, there was a big stretching sensation that made me tense up and fall back onto the pillow.

"Oh God!" I whisper-moaned to no one.

"You okay?"

"Yes..."

"Boy, you needed this, I barely touched you. And you said you couldn't handle it!" Quinn laughed as she started a gentle, short thrusting motion. "Tell me if you wanna turn it on or go slower or faster or whatever."

"Just keep going." I said breathlessly. What she was doing was perfect: vibration off, just that feeling of fullness and smoothness. I just closed my eyes and revelled in the sensation of being so full. The smaller head of the dildo was ensconced between the hood of my clit and my labia, which would've been great, except it was a little dry. "Do you have any lube? Just for the upper one, here."

"Hm...no, but..." she then whipped Kandinsky out of me and started to suck on the smaller head, holding her hair back so it wouldn't touch the larger one that was covered in our juices. She did it efficiently, not shy about drooling all over it, and then promptly returned it to my lady.

"Fuck," I hissed as she filled me back up with that hard cock. "Turn it on...higher please...YES!"

Generally when I masturbate, there's a "movie" of sorts going through my head, usually involving something I see in a porn video that turned me on. One of the reasons I stopped masturbating was because when I closed my eyes and tried to get into that zone, the only thing that flashed through my mind was my assault, which I didn't want to think about at all. The physicality of this completely overrode anything going on in my head; I was fully present with my lady, the piercing working on my labia, the huge phallus rotating steadily inside me, massaging my vaginal walls, and the stimulator rubbing my clit with each upward thrust.

It was only a matter of seconds before I felt the percolation coming. I was staying relatively quiet except for my breathing when I realized we were alone in an empty house, and for the first time ever, screamed out my orgasm. "Harder! Please...AH! Quinn! Quinn! FUCK ME! YES! AHHHHH!"

Even once I had done screaming, Quinn knew not to stop, and kept thrusting and kept the vibration on for the aftershocks, letting me ride the waves as gradually I stopped clenching my toes, fingers, then my limbs, and working my way to my core. "Okay stop, please." She obeyed, and once the toy was off there was no sound except my labored breathing. She pulled Kandinsky out of my snatch and I felt a twinge as my vagina emptied and the walls tried to close back up.

Quinn held the toy off to the side, probably not sure what to do or say. My head was still swimming, and I was actually extremely embarrassed by what had just happened, but couldn't even form a sentence in my mind. That was probably the best orgasm I had since my very first; it was like the world was alive in color again. I gathered enough sense to try and sit up on my elbows and try to be polite: "What uh...what about you?"

"I'm good, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

I got very self-conscious; I sat up some more and covered my body with my knees and wrapped my arms around them. Maybe we were both thinking the same thing at the moment; namely, that a serious line had been crossed. This started beyond innocent, perfectly platonic, and now, only under the narrowest definitions had we NOT just had sex with each other. We started by just being friends, grooming, sharing some personal space, and then it escalated to Quinn fucking me with her dildo, her saliva and vaginal fluids inside me, having helped me to an ultra-intense orgasm.