Candid Camera

The basement bedroom where Ben and Sharon spent most of their time was a collection of ugly trophies. The two had been friends since fourth grade- ever since they had worked on a shared science project. Their ant colony had lasted for three years, trading hands during each vacation, until its size overtook the ten gallon aquarium and their mothers imposed an embargo. They had been given a humane release in Ben's grandmother's old barn with all the solemnity of a military funeral, and Sharon and Ben had moved on to bigger projects.

Though their paths had diverged pretty dramatically since then, their friendship- and the furniture- were as sturdy as ever. Everything in the basement was their salvage. The charcoal basket-weave couch and ottoman, the fake veneered TV stand that they had spray painted over in seventh grade (it was supposed to look tie-dye, but that hadn't worked), the big tube television they had wheeled home on Sharon's skateboard, edge covered in bastardized stickers. "I Voted", "Pac-Man" and "I'VE BEEN KROGERING!" became "PEE", "toe ban," and "ROGER Me", faded into a peeling mosaic around the edge of the dependable television.

Like pirates in a wreck, the two of them had mercilessly sought what they wanted. For Sharon, that was debate club, social status, and a women's cross-country track team that offered no mercy. She was always the seeker of the two, the youngest of four girls with something to prove. She proved it by running with the boys- at least until middle school- pushy, even brutish, to make sure she earned her space. Something had happened around eighth grade, though, and she had cleaned herself up just enough to fit in with the girls whose company she now kept. Jenny, on her track team, whose curly brown hair shone like polished walnut. Hannah, who cooked and spoke French and loved her old polaroid camera. Pretty, respectable girls, who didn't clean gutters, wear stained, threadbare clothes, or ride mountain bikes and four-wheelers in the woods.

Ben was an only child. He had a laid-back attitude and easy smile that sometimes made him seen like a pushover. Okay, he didn't have Sharon's drive- he would admit to that, of course. But he didn't feel like he really needed it. Ben was happy how he was. There wasn't anything he really wanted that he didn't feel like he could get, and there just wasn't anything he really wanted. He was happy to fuck around on the internet, experiment with bad electronic music and photoshopping pictures together into weird collages.

There was time to figure things out, he supposed, especially since the two of them were completing their general requirements at the same local community college. They hadn't discussed what they wanted to do beyond that- after more than ten years of friendship, it was hard for Ben to imagine a world without Sharon in it.

Sharon held a light beer in one hand, one leg cocked askew on the ottoman as she scrolled through her phone, not paying attention to the black and white movie chattering away to itself on the screen. The two of them had been on ladders all day, up to their elbows in grime, cleaning out Ms. Joss' gutters. Sharon worked like a dog for Ben's mother- one of the rare times her tomboyish attitude shone back through. Both of them were exhausted, but they knew his mother wouldn't give them any grief over the beer- she politely ignored such misdeeds now that they were almost 21.

Bottles littered the mismatched side tables- one a scratched, glass 80s minimalist thing, the other bubbled, veneered wood 60s-imitation. Ben's was the wood one. His legs were crossed out in front of him on the ottoman. Nearly halfway through his third beer, he glanced over toward Sharon. Her messy, brownish-blonde hair was half-up, a lock in the front falling down to rest near the edge of her army green tank top,

her loose yellow shorts were stretched over one warm ivory thigh, and Ben's attention caught on the heathered gray fabric up the other, rolled-back leg. He didn't think much about it- on the screen a man in an ugly suit argued with his friends on a streetcorner, and the flashing light flickered over the scalloped hem barely pressing into the curves of her pelvis.

"You looking at my underwear?"

Ben froze. He looked up at Sharon's face, ready to see anger, but instead, she looked smug- mischievous. She set her phone aside.

"Oh," he hesitated. "No, sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I was just staring into space."

"Horseshit," she scoffed. "Fair's fair, Benjamin. Show me yours, since you're already looking!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he protested.

"Why not?"

"Just because."

"That's not a reason, perv!"

"Because," he fumbled as he explained, "I'm not wearing any."

Sharon was facing him halfway. She frowned. Ben knew the look well- her almond-shaped, sage green eyes serious and stubborn.

"Bullshit excuse. Pull down your shorts."

He sighed. "Sharon, come on. I barely saw anything anyway."

"Oh yeah?"

Sharon grabbed the waistband of her jogging shorts, untying the lace and shoving it to her knees. Her smooth hipbones and thighs framed the gray cut of her underwear so temptingly that Ben stared again, back at the smooth bump where the cotton rest against her pussy in the harsh television light. Ben couldn't pretend like he hadn't looked at her before- up on the ladder, the soft curve where her butt met her thigh, for example. Her round breasts in thin shirts on her bike in the summer, quivering over rocky trails, had sent him over more than one craggy rock and to the forest floor, to her entertainment.

"Fair is fair." Sharon repeated. There was an edge to her voice this time.

"I'm not wearing anything under my shorts," he protested again, but she wasn't buying it. After a bit more back and forth, his eyes moving from her face to her hips to her body and to each again- wherein she remained unconvinced- he finally held up a hand.

"Look, I don't care. But you have to promise you're not going to get offended by my dick."

"Why would I be offended by your dumb dick?" She barked.

He gestured at the couch. Sharon plopped down, crossing her arms. He stood up.

Ben squirmed. He unbuttoned his shorts, and pulled them down to his knees. His dick lifted to attention, swelling and flushing without any regard for how Ben might feel about it. Sharon's eyes widened.

"Oh, fuck, Ben."

Benjamin reached down to grab his shorts, beginning an 'I told you so,' before Sharon grabbed his hand. She shifted closer. There was a heady smell about her each time she moved.

"Sharon, watch it, stupid."

His half-hard cock was holding itself forward now, like a magnet to her approaching face. Without touch or words, her warm breath and the sight of her breasts down her tank top sent his cock springing hard in front of her. Her thin hand gripped his wrist hard, and his cock pulsed, a drop of crystal precum oozing from the red cockhead half-hidden by his foreskin dropping onto her bare thigh. Sharon stared at the drop. She stared at his cock. She pressed her hand against the base, looking up at him with those big, green eyes. Another bead rolled onto her hand.

She ran her hand up his cock and he shuddered. Then down, exposing the ridges of his glans. Sharon learned in, her breath shallow, and then kissed his cock. In moments her mouth was popping back and forth over his cockhead, sucking the pre away, and his hands were tangled in her hair. He had never felt anything so good as her warm tongue sliding around him. He listened to her hungry pants and the sounds of her as she pressed her face against his cock, sticking out her tongue-

"Stop," he gasped, finally. Her blood orange lips pulled back with a soft pop. "This isn't fair." She jolted her head halfway back, face clearly flushed with embarrassment and indignation. He grabbed her hair in pigtails.

"Show me your pussy." He watched her face. "Fair is fair," he insisted.

Then: "you don't get to touch me if I don't get to touch you." He let the pigtails he'd created in her blonde hair thread through his fingers as she flopped backwards, clearly trying to feign confidence. She grabbed her beer and took a long drink. In a quick motion, she spread her thighs.

Ben knelt down, cock throbbing as he peeled her underwear away, watching the gleaming threads of her girlcum stretch and snap from her shaved pussy. She was incredibly wet.

It struck him then how incredibly lucky he was- how out of his league a girl like Sharon would normally be. Ben was painfully average, at least he thought so- big ears, short brown hair, eyes the dim blue of old denim. He was a firm "okay," which in some ways, in his opinion, was worse than looking weird.

He decided to gamble. In the riskiest choice he'd made- for what he'd wanted more than he remembered really wanting anything- he put his hands on her breasts, ready for a slap in the face. He squeezed them through the tank top, Sharon's slim, fit body tensing under his hands. She inhaled in shock, and he watched her nipples perk through the fabric. Okay. Good enough for him. He teased them with his fingers, and Sharon made a funny moaning sound. He reached under the soft green cotton, and groped the bare flesh of her breasts in turn, sliding back to pull her nipple, and she twitched. She was warm and smooth, and as Ben slid his hand down her torso and across the front of her, down to her cunt. He felt how wet she was as he rubbed her. Her pussy opened easily beneath his fingertips, slick and hot. He rubbed his index finger across the opening as his thumb massaged her clit. Sharon made a face- almost cringing- and threw her head back, covering her mouth with her free hand. Ben watched her breasts rise and fall rapidly, nipples poking hard through the ribbed tank top. Her hand was shaking. He felt a drop of girlcum slide out of her hole, and he followed it with a finger, hooking it into Sharon's cunt and feeling around, rubbing her clit faster.

"You look good," he breathed. She squirmed more. He lowered his head toward her, and she grabbed his coarse hair. The smell of her was intoxicating. He slid a finger inside her, feeling the gentle ridges inside her, and parted her labia to look at her coral-colored bead of her clit, poking up from its smooth hood. If it hadn't been for the smell drawing him in, further and further, he might have chickened out. Pressing his face against her smooth skin, he sucked and licked it until she was moaning in a way he had never heard. He pulled back, pulling his finger out, he rubbed her with the moisture he'd pulled from her pussy, alternating between his now-slick mouth and fingers as he rubbed, sucked, slid his tongue over her until past when his jaw went numb and his tongue tingled, listening to Sharon's cries of pleasure. The taste and smell of her consumed him. Suddenly, Sharon's hips tensed forward, and he heard her groan. Her heavy breathing turned into panting, then into stifled moans as he felt her go stiff for a moment.

His fingers, resting on her pussy, felt a sudden rush of rapid twitching. She was cumming. The charcoal couch beneath her hips was soaked with spit and the dripping, crystal liquid from her pussy. He leaned back rubbed her clit slowly, watching her tremble. Sharon stared down at him, fair face covered with a sheen of sweat. Ben stood up in front of her, aching cock bobbing as he did, watching her eyes follow its movement.

"Ready?" He asked, surprised at the huskiness in his own voice. Sharon's eyes were glazed. She nodded, breathing heavily, and pulled up her tank top, revealing her pert breasts. He squeezed each one in turn, leaning in to lick and kiss her coral nipples. Grabbing her thighs, her breasts, pulling her nipples as he kissed and sucked her body thrilled him. After a few minutes, when he figured she'd waited long enough, he stepped back for a second to look at her again.

Sharon lay before him on the couch, pussy flushed and slightly parted, glistening with moisture that looked like melted ice. She stared at him hungrily as he shifted forward, bare cock finally nestling against her soft, forgiving flesh. Stroking her breast with one hand and spreading the lips of her pussy with the other, he nudged her snug hole before sliding inside her. The feeling was like white fire. It felt unreal.

He grabbed her cell phone from the side table, snapping a series of photos- Sharon's sweaty, disarrayed face and grin, her nipples hard and breasts speckled with red bites and hickeys, down her trim body, to where his cock rested in the smooth part of her labia, just barely there. She lay back with an embarrassed, submissive smile as he did- finally reaching down behind her knees, pulling her thighs back, opening herself further for him. His bare cock twitched against her as he hastily finished up his photography project.

He pushed into her. Her cunt was so wet and so tight, he gripped her hips immediately, shoving himself as deep as he could. He heard Sharon squeal, and her thighs shook as his balls slapped her ass on the next deep thrust. God, she felt so good. Beneath him, she was panting his name, groaning, gripping his shoulders. His cock glistened with her slickness. He grabbed his phone, and held it out.

"Smile, Sharon!" He ordered, and shaking- one hand digging tight into his shoulder, the other hand half-covering her bouncing tits- she did. He aimed it down, at her bare pussy, spread around his cock. He snapped pictures there, too, pushing in, pulling out, shining a light on the gape of her cunt as it twitched. Ben fucked her harder. He felt her cervix sliding against his cock, smooth and divoted and- and-

"I'm gonna cum in you," he grunted weakly. She bucked her hips again.

Sharon ground herself against him, pulling him down further, bringing his face to hers, biting and licking his neck and whispering in his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he heard her- "Please," she begged. "Do it, Ben."

She moaned. His mind was numb. Only his best friend's wet, tight cunt occupied him. He had to cum inside her. He fucked harder and she screamed as he held her thighs apart.

"I'm gonna cum!" He warned again; but Sharon just bucked her hips, rubbing her cervix against Ben's thick cock as he shoved deep. He grimaced, and felt his balls go tight. Against his better wisdom, he dug his hands deep into her hips, pushing her hard against him as he roared, sperm shooting hard through his bobbing cock, deep inside Sharon's body. He grabbed her arms, pinning them back on the couch, and kissed her, rubbing his tongue across hers as he filled her.

He photographed that too, his cock buried balls deep in her pink cunt, battered by his hammering- the creamy flood that dripped out of her as she lay with her legs askew.

Ben crawled onto the couch, scooping Sharon's nude body up against him as he pulled a gray comforter from the back of the couch. She seemed surprised at first, but gazed dreamily at him as he cozied her soft ass against him, facing the television. The two of them fit- just barely- on the damp couch, her head on his arm. Her head smelled light, slightly spiced- a woodsy smell. He ran his hand down her smooth side, the swell of her hip, warming her as he explored his friend's naked body. He picked her phone back up, sending copies of the 37 photographs of her, as she watched, to his own phone. She was silent as the two of them scrolled through the pictures, chronicling each step of his taking of her. His heart fluttered as he handed the phone back to Sharon, and watched her scroll back and forth through them. Finally, She sighed, and put it down- nestling into Ben's arm as the television droned on to itself.

Against his still-wet cock, Ben felt his cum drip down her thigh.