Condolences

Oakley watches me, arms splayed at his sides; his cock twitching.

"I'm going to sit on your face," I say.

He beams. I position my thighs alongside his head, facing his torso. Bunching my dress up above my waist, I lower myself. He grips my thighs, positioning me above his mouth. I settle my weight onto his chest and grasp the base of his cock. Oakley spreads my pussy lips and swirls his tongue over my clit.

"Fuck!" I squeal. My bottom lip quivers as he laps at my pussy, drawing a finger around the opening.

I gently tug the foreskin back and take the head of his cock into my mouth. Oakley groans, his hips thrusting of their own volition. I slide further down, taking as much of him as I can manage. His skin tastes briny and there's a slight musk emanating from his groin; a faint, masculine smell that makes my pussy throb.

Oakley's tongue ripples over my clit, sending jolts of pleasure surging throughout my pelvis. I bob my head up and down his length, stroking his shaft with my hand in time with my movements. He thrusts two fingers inside me and I arch my back, crying out, momentarily distracted. I feel his cock pulse in my hand.

"Why didn't you go down on me in August?" I ask.

He lowers his mouth. "Not enough room."

"Well, if you had, I might've accepted your friend reque—ah!"

Oakley's tongue returns, flitting over my clit. I squirm at the feather-light touch.

"Okay, I can't do this." I pant.

"Huh?"

"Multitasking. It's not my thing."

"That's okay. Relax. Let me make you come."

I slump onto his torso with his cock beside my face. Oakley's tongue undulates over my clitoris as his slick fingers thrust in and out of my pussy. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent, petting his erection with my hand every few seconds. I smile; sometimes it's nice to just hold or look at a man's cock with no pressure to make it do anything.

Oakley withdraws his fingers and slides his tongue up to the entrance of my pussy. I gasp as he plunges it inside me, tasting and exploring. I squeeze his cock absently, gliding the tip of my tongue across his urethra. He moans, the sound reverberating throughout my groin.

"Oh my god," I say. "Do that again."

He groans, drawing it out over a few seconds.

"Do it to my clit."

Oakley slides his tongue out of me and fixes his mouth over my sensitive node. He hums and my entire lower body quakes. I embed my face into his thigh crease and cry out, the sound muffled by his clothing. He continues to hum and lick and suck and squeeze. My knees threaten to give out and, for a second, I am genuinely concerned about suffocating him with my pussy.

He holds firmly to my hips, his tongue unrelenting. I cling to the fabric of his suit jacket as the throbbing behind my clit deepens and swells. Clenching my jaw, I press myself against his mouth as the orgasm takes me. My eyes clamp shut. Every muscle in my body tightens and releases. Tremors of pleasure echo out from my pussy and I cry out in short, curt, yelps.

Gasping for breath, I shudder as Oakley kisses my clitoris. My fingers ache as I release his jacket. I rise onto my forearm and grasp the base of his cock, taking him as far back into my throat as I can manage and slowly dragging my lips and tongue over his length.

"Oh, fuck." His fingertips bite into my hips.

I salivate over him, spreading it evenly down the shaft. His foreskin peels back easily and I take a few moments to pay special attention to the hot pink head, swirling my tongue over the salty tip and underneath the ridge.

Oakley's breath is hot on my pussy. "I want to watch."

Releasing his cock, I roll onto my side and crawl between his legs. Stroking his cock in one hand, I lift and fondle his balls with the other, lapping my tongue over them in long strokes.

Oakley moans. "Oh my God, Lauren."

I glance up. He's watching me with half-lidded eyes, his lips glossy from eating me out. I run my tongue along his cock from base to tip. Focusing on the frenulum, I kiss him, alternating between soft pecks and long, lavish strokes. His head lolls back as I gently slap the head of his cock against my flattened tongue.

"I forgot what a nice cock you have," I say.

He chortles. "Thanks."

"It's a real shame neither of us brought rubbers."

"Next time one of our relatives dies, we'll know to come prepared."

I laugh. He grins, his chest heaving. Without warm-up or warning, I devour him, bobbing my head up and down in rapid succession. Oakley cries out, clapping a hand over his mouth and then biting his forefinger. I continue my assault, concentrating on breathing through my nose.

Oakley reaches down and lays a hand upon my palm, which is resting on his abdomen. I maintain my rhythm, grateful for the soft carpet beneath us. He's close.

With his head grazing the back of my throat, I let out a low hum. Oakley squeezes my palm and arches up from the floor, gasping.

"What do you want me to do?" He wheezes.

I squeeze his hand and he groans, collapsing onto the floor as his cock spasms and spurts. Still humming, I wait until he's finished before I swallow. Letting him slip from my mouth, I wipe my lips on the back of my hand. Oakley breathes deeply, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

Smoothing my dress back over my thighs, I come to sit beside him. Oakley tucks his flaccid cock back into his pants with languid fingers before rolling over and resting his head in my lap. I pet his soft, thick curls and stroke his jaw.

Glancing around the room, I am only mildly unnerved by the notion that the creepy Cabbage Patch dolls are watching us—were watching us. Oakley wraps his arms around my crossed legs, his eyes closed.

"As nice as it would be to take a nap, we should probably go back upstairs," I say.

He whines, tightening his grip on me. "A nap sounds better."

"It does." My stomach gurgles and burns. "But there's food upstairs and I'm hungry."

"But how will I endure the scrutiny of your entire family with the knowledge that I just shot my wad into the back of your throat?"

"With the same poise and maturity needed for me to thank your parents for coming after I came all over their son's face."

He opens his eyes and smiles.

"Come here," I say.

Oakley rises onto his knees. I take his face into my hands and plant kisses on his cheeks. He pulls me toward him, burying his hands in my hair.

"Fine," he says. "Let's go."

Stretching, we climb to our feet. Oakley grabs my black panties from the floor and offers them to me.

I chuckle. "You want 'em?"

He grins. "Can I?"

"Sure, knock yourself out."

He crumples them into a coarse ball and tucks them into his pocket.

We listen for conversation and footsteps on the other side of the basement door. When the coast sounds clear, we venture up, exhaling a sigh of relief at our good fortune. As I'm about to step into the hall, Oakley grasps my arm and pulls me back for a final kiss.

Oakley enters the living room first, taking a seat on the sofa. I follow a few seconds later, casually striding over to sit beside him.

"Smooth," he whispers.

"Fuck you."

"My Nana's on her last leg. I give her six months, tops."

I punch his arm, reining in a smile.

"Ow." He massages his bicep.

I glance at the side table: two butterscotch drops remain in the candy bowl. I pick it up and offer one to Oakley. He accepts, popping it into his mouth and then muttering a quiet, "Fuck" as he notes the sprinkling of powdered sugar on his lapel.

I take the last candy, relishing the union of cream, sugar, and alcohol.

The front door creaks open in the hallway and the signature shrill din of Aunt Liza's voice is accompanied by an even higher-pitched one.

"Mommy, the plane took forever!" Caroline clomps into the living room, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Here, wait don't track dirt into the house."

My mother and Josh are the last to enter, carrying child-sized suitcases. I flash my mom a quick apologetic smile. She nods.

"Lauren!" Caroline shrieks and bounces over to me.

"Hey, Carebear." I feign nonchalance. "How was your trip?"

"It was awful! We sat on the runway for hours."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I pat her back.

"Who's this?" She eyes Oakley with suspicion.

"This is Oakley. He's an old friend."

Aunt Liza clomps over, winded. "My God, with the incompetency of the airline industry, I'm surprised they can even get those things off the runway."

"I'm hungry." Josh, a few years older than Caroline, stands off to the side staring blankly at his iPhone.

"There's food in the kitchen. Use paper plates. I don't want a mountain of dishes when this is all over." Aunt Liza turns to us. "Where have you two been?"

"Uh—" I stutter. "Mourning. In the den."

"The whole time? I haven't seen you for almost an hour."

"We went outside," says Oakley. "You have a lovely swing set."

"Oh, thank you, dear. We installed it last year but Caroline's the only one who really uses it."

"Well, it definitely brought us back." Oakley clasps my hand in full view of my family. I tense.

"Aww, you two." My aunt gushes. "Now wouldn't that be the sweetest thing: childhood friends reuniting after all these years!"

I glare at Oakley in my peripheral vision. He smiles. "It really would."

"Mommy," says Caroline. "Can Lauren babysit for us?"

"That's a fantastic idea, honey. Lauren, are you available?"

"Well, I'm only here until the end of the week, but—"

"Oh, that's perfect! I have a meeting Thursday night. And Oakley, as lovely as it is to see you, I'm afraid it's no boys allowed."

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "I understand."

I want to kill him. I want to pour butterscotch drops down his throat until he cannot breathe.

"Well, since you're family, Lauren, I'll make sure to disable the Nanny Cam."

"The Nanny what?" I ask, bristling.

"The Nanny Cam in the basement." She covers her mouth in a vain attempt to sound secretive. "Caroline never plays with her Cabbage Patch dolls, so I installed one of those little surveillance cameras into one of them to make sure the local babysitters aren't falling asleep or watching inappropriate television while the children are awake. You'd be amazed to hear what some people try and get away with."

Oakley's entire arm tenses around my shoulder like a vice.

I feign an empathetic smile. "Yes, I'm sure we would."