Friends Like These

This is the first story of my "Friends" trilogy. Each story will feature the same two main characters. (The stories may end up being listed under different Literotica categories.) Any comments or suggestions are appreciated!

-ck

Friends Like These (Book 1 of Friends Trilogy)

The seaside club, called The Dry Dock, was Rebecca's suggestion. Because I was pretty new to the club scene, I deferred to her experience. I did know the nickname for the dance club, though -- the "Dry Hump."

I was also pretty new to shopping for "clubbing" attire. Becks helped me out in that regard, too, accompanying me to the mall. We stopped in The Gap and Old Navy, Aeropostale and Forever 21 -- all places I'd never been able to shop in before, because they didn't have clothes in my size. But that was before I'd lost almost sixty pounds.

"That is so cuuuute!" Becks squealed, when I came out of the fitting room in the gauzy white "cold shoulder" top and the short black skirt. "That's the perfect outfit for the club Saturday night!"

"You think?" I pulled at the skirt, which ended above my knees. "It's not too short?"

"Puh-leeze!" Becks grabbed me, pulling me in front of the full-length mirror. "Look at you! You look a-mazing. You're delish!"

In the looking glass, I saw a slim, blonde girl in stylish clothes. I was surprised by how good she looked. I smiled; the blonde girl in the mirror smiled back. I struck a pose, jutting out my hip and tossing my hair, attempting a coy look. Rebecca squealed again.

I almost didn't recognize this new body. I had dieted for months, taking laxatives or purging if I overate. If I had no plans on the weekends -- and I usually didn't -- I'd stay in bed and not eat at all. If I did get up, like to use the bathroom, I would actually feel faint and see spots. Those months hadn't been fun, but they'd been so worth it.

I'd never been delish before.

ooOoo

The club was LOUD. Pulsing lights flashed with the beat of the music, usually something frenzied and danceable. There were bodies everywhere. Grinding, kissing, touching, slow-dancing to the fast music. I stared at a couple, two girls, who were pressed so close together it was hard to see where one ended and the other one began. They were French-kissing passionately, running their hands over each other.

Becks pulled at my arm. "Stop staring," she yelled above the music. Then she paused, and looked at me uncertainly. "Unless you want that?" She pointed at the amorous lesbians.

"No! I mean -- no!" Becks knew I was a virgin, an almost unknown thing at twenty-two, at least in our college town. I'd been overweight almost my whole life, gaining the weight at age five while being treated for childhood leukemia. When I'd recovered enough to finally start Kindergarten (a year later than I should have), I had still been chubby, and had only gotten heavier. My "fat" status had definitely hurt my dating possibilities in high school, and I had been determined that college would not follow the same path. Once I'd started slimming down I had been dating more regularly, but no boy had ever gotten past foreplay. Oddly, I hadn't really wanted any of them to. Becks and I had talked about that, about how I was worried that there was something wrong with me. It wasn't surprising that my best friend thought I might be gay.

Rebecca shook her head at my defensive response. "Whatever, chickie. Let's get a drink."

Becks went to the bar, while I scoped out a table. I found a tall round table with no seats; at least we could place our drinks on it. I'd been standing there, searching the crowd for Becks, when a guy closer to thirty than to twenty was suddenly in my face.

"Ho!" he yelled, over the pounding noise. "You're fresh meat!"

"I'm what?"

He smiled; he had a really nice smile. "You're new here!"

I looked around at the mass of people. "How can you tell?"

"You don't look like them. You look -- clean. Innocent!"

I grimaced. It was like my virginity was a capital "V" on my chest. It was like I'd said to Becks, after my last date's shy dick prevented even an attempt at copulation: sometimes I thought the only way I'd get laid is if I got raped.

Becks had found me; she held two mixed drinks. A screwdriver for me, I don't know what for her. It was blue and had a sucker in it for a stir stick. Rebecca took it out now and sucked on it. She looked at the "Ho" guy as she sucked. He watched, entranced, as she ran the candy in and out of her mouth, flicking her tongue over it. Feeling slightly jealous, I took a hefty swig of my drink. I was hoping to get buzzed enough to just get through this uncomfortable night. With my newly thin body, it probably would only take a few drinks to relax me.

The guy had his face close to Rebecca's. She had taken the sucker out of her mouth, and practically had her tongue in his ear. He stepped back, and then for some insane reason he held his hand out to me.

"Wanna dance?"

I did.

ooOoo

"Ho" guy (his name was Jack) danced with me, and then he stayed with me. We danced the fast dances, until I couldn't catch my breath. We danced the slow dances, Jack's lips nuzzling my neck. In between dances, we talked (or yelled) with each other. He got me another screwdriver, and then a blue drink like Rebecca's. It was good - it tasted like cotton candy. The night was ending up a lot better than I'd expected.

ooOoo

How did I get here? Why can't I move? It's dark. I'm so cold - I'm naked!

ooOoo

I frantically search my mind, casting about for my last coherent memory. Slow dancing, with Jack, his hands occasionally darting under my shirt. Sitting in a booth, on Jack's lap, with my arms around his neck and his erection poking against the cloth of my panties. His tongue in my mouth, unexpected but not unwelcome. A strange girl in the corner of the booth, a stunningly seductive girl whose alluring face shimmered vaguely in my thoughts. She'd had her hands all over Becks, and Becks had had her hand up the girl's skirt.

What?

Hot, so hot, and thirsty. Neon lights piercing my eyes, hurting.

Thirsty.

Hurting.

Where am I? I'm on a bed, nude, with no sheets or blanket covering me. I am so thirsty, and my head hurts so bad. I'm shivering, and I can feel goosebumps all over my body. I wonder absently where my trendy new clothes are. And I just realized that it's dark because I'm blindfolded. My arms are resting above my head, and I attempt to drag them down, to take off the blindfold -- but they won't move.

I'm naked and blindfolded, with my wrists tied to a bed frame. The night is ending up a lot worse than I'd expected.

ooOoo

As my consciousness comes back fully, I realize my headache is not the only sensation I feel. There is a definite warmth between my legs, and a wet slickness that I've never fully felt before, that I've never been able to properly accomplish with boys or with masturbation. And it's not like I'm a prude. I might technically still be a virgin, but I have done things with guys, intimate things. Pleasuring them, or letting them try to pleasure me. One guy had even suggested we masturbate in front of each other, but when he came and I couldn't, I'd figured typical masturbation might not be enough for me. I'd taken to masturbating with unusual items in the hope of that elusive orgasm. I'd tried using the long, curved handle on the shower brush when in the tub. I'd tried differently-handled screwdrivers (just like my favorite drink!), "borrowing" them from my father's tool box when I was home for Christmas. I'd even tried a curling iron (but not plugged in -- I was frustrated, not masochistic). Nothing. Now here I am, sexually excited to the point of wetness by my apparent drugging and possible abduction. And, oh my God, I can hear someone breathing! Someone's here!

Of course someone's here, how do you think you got here? "About time you woke up."

It's a man's voice. I think it's Jack. I can't be sure, I could barely hear him at the club, with all the ambient noise.

I'm breathing hard, butterflies beating in my stomach. But it doesn't feel like fear. As the butterfly sensation travels down, I realize it feels like desire. None of the guys I had been "intimate" with had made me feel quite this hot.

The person who spoke is now next to me. I feel unknown hands roughly grab my breasts. My nipples are pinched painfully, and I wince, biting my lip. One hand then trails down my abdomen, past my navel. My body tenses, and I am unable to breathe. The hand is now in my crotch, and fingers tickle my vag.

"Wow. You're so wet. I thought I heard you were a dry bitch."

Where would he hear that?

The fingers suddenly jab inside me. I gasp in shock, and involuntarily arch my back. "Oh, you like that, huh?" The fingers pull out, then begin to explore. Pulling, rubbing, teasing, sliding back and forth. They excite every inch of my pussy. The skilled fingers again penetrate me. They go deep, retract, thrust in again. Slow at first, then impossibly fast. It is ecstasy. I shudder and moan. I've had other guys' fingers down there, but never like this -- never when I was tied up, blindfolded, helpless. It's . . . exhilarating.

What is wrong with me? This is basically rape, I've given no consent, and I'm more sexually aroused than I've ever been.

I think I'm just on the edge of climax, and then the fingers are abruptly gone. "No!" I cry, immediately missing the thrilling sensation. This "almost, but not quite" frustration has become infuriatingly familiar.

"You want more?"

"Yes!" So much for not giving consent.

"Taste yourself first." The fingers are now in my mouth. This is new to me, but I suck greedily at his fingers, and I'm intrigued by my sweet-salty juices. That's what I taste like? Not. . . bad.

Jack withdraws his hand but it doesn't leave my mouth -- I can feel a whisper-soft touch, outlining my lips. My whole body shivers, and this time it's not because I'm cold.

I hear movement in a different part of the room. Another person, breathing hard. How many people are here? How many people will touch me, as I am naked and defenseless? God, am I going to be gang raped?

Please oh please oh please oh please let me be gang raped.

I have no idea where that disturbing thought came from.

The first person (Jack?) draws his hand away from my mouth. I feel him changing position on the bed, to climb on top of me. I feel his skin, sweaty and hairy, pressing against my naked body. He's naked too. There's a heaviness on my torso; I think he's positioned himself so that his knees are straddling my upper body, and he's practically sitting on my chest.

"Now taste me."

I can feel the heat from his dick before he touches it to my lips. I can feel the drip of liquid at the tip, as it falls off to dribble onto my chin. I obligingly open my mouth. And then his cock is in my mouth, past my lips and teeth, and pressing down on my tongue. I gag, disgusted and enthralled at the same time, and my lower regions explode in reaction.

Jack takes my head between his hands, squeezing firmly, but the pressure is just shy of painful. He brings me closer, keeping my head from moving as he begins to grunt, quiet but insistent. I want to beat on his body, to grab him and hold on for dear life, but my wrists are attached to the bed frame. I want to scream in utter rapture, but I can only groan as I attempt to accommodate his throbbing member. I do my best to fondle his penis with my tongue, and to suck the correct way, but this is the first time I've had a guy in my mouth, and Jack's too impatient to let me learn on the (blow)job.

Jack's grunts have gotten louder, as his cock slides in and out of my mouth. I've almost gotten used to the sensation when he thrusts himself farther in still, practically down my throat. I can barely breathe, and I feel I will be suffocated. For some reason that excites me. What is wrong with me? At least I'll die with a smile on my face.

We orgasm at the same time.

I have never orgasmed before. My entire body seizes, and my brain is enveloped in a white light. I'm tingling from every part of my body. A shriek builds in my mind, and builds, and builds, until I think it will consume me. I squeeze my mouth down hard on his cock, unable to control my quivering muscles. Hot liquid sprays back against my throat, and I have no choice but to swallow, shuddering and gagging. His cum is sharp and somewhat bitter, but not entirely unpleasant. After Jack finishes, he pulls out, trailing spit and cum that lands on my face and breasts. I feel him fall onto the bed next to me. I gasp for breath, panting in exhaustion. Even though I am blindfolded, I see stars.

I can feel the mattress is wet under me, wet with my cum.

I float in passion. Maybe I sleep. I've almost recovered when I feel warm hands pushing my legs apart, into a bent position. Then there's a head between my legs. The other person is down there, and it's not fingers this time. I'm being licked, caressed by a tongue; it's flitting in and out of my pussy, bringing me to the brink and then pulling back. There is obvious talent in the tongue, as it changes from circular licking to up and down with barely a pause. I writhe on the bed, lifting my feet and curling my toes. Sudden hands hold me still. Jack is holding my upper body, trying to keep me from moving, while the other person is gripping my ass. The licking ceases briefly, and I feel soft kisses on my lower lips. Then the wandering tongue resumes. It is so exciting, I can't just lie there. But since I'm partially restrained, I show my appreciation by moaning and groaning, sobbing in absolute pleasure.

"She's so ready."

It's a low whisper, but I can tell it's a female voice. I've been eaten out by a chick? And I liked it.

Shit, I loved it.

Was Becks right? Am I gay? Bi?

Jack speaks. "Are you ready, Ginger?"

I can't respond; directly opposite to the rest of me, my mouth has gone dry with anticipation.

"Are you ready for me to fuck you, Ginger?"

"Y-yes!" I breathe out. "Oh, God. Yes!"

"Say please."

"Please! Please, fuck me! I want you!"

Twenty-two is way too old to be a virgin.

Jack has moved to straddle me again. "Untie one of her wrists," I hear him direct. Quick fingers release the knot on the material that had restrained my right hand. "Feel how wet you are," he tells me.

My hand and arm ache with pins-and-needles, but I force my hand down between my legs. I can't believe how wet I am. No wonder I never had any pleasure before. I had no clue what I was doing, what I was actually capable of.

My hand is suddenly slapped away. Jack is breathing harder, and he violently shoves my legs farther apart with one of his knees. He is on top of me, but braced up, most likely on his hands. His head must be dropped; I can feel his hair brushing my face.

I had thought it not possible, but when he enters me, it is all I had ever hoped it could be, and more.

At first there is tremendous pain, enough to make me cry out, but it is brief and soon forgotten. His cock feels massive. I swear I can feel the tip all the way through me, tickling against the inside of my back. I can't believe I had that monstrosity in my mouth. Jack has lifted his head and he is grunting, muttering. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Ginger-Ginger-Ginger."

My legs lift to wrap around him. My right hand has found his back, and I pull him into me with my legs and arm. He pulls back slightly, starting to rock and gyrate against me as his cock slides in and out, in and out, in and out. With each thrust I gasp and tremble, and tears of joy fall from my eyes. I buck my hips and time my movements to his. It's like an instinct takes over, like this body is not my own. I never knew I could do this, that it could be like this. What had I been waiting for? A steady boyfriend? Love? An engagement? Fuck that.

Fuck me!

I thought I had orgasmed before, when Jack came in my mouth. That was nothing compared to this. I disappear. I am no longer on the bed, in the room, on the earth. I am passion, I am joy, I am ecstasy. My body shakes and my back arches, my legs slipping off of Jack. I nearly tear my left wrist free; I am mildly aware of a pain in my arm, but it is nothing, it is a gnat in a hurricane. I am a gnat in a hurricane. I jerk with each crashing wave of bliss. My feet drum on the mattress.

I scream. I scream in thankfulness and relief and rapture. I press my face against Jack's strong chest and scream.

I am still screaming when Jack joins me, a guttural cry escaping his throat as he ejaculates into me, jerking with each release. When he finally pulls out, I draw his body to me again, searching for his face. He lowers his face to mine and kisses me repeatedly, so hard my teeth hurt. I taste sweat and a tinge of beer.

This time Jack doesn't fall beside me. He pulls himself off the bed, and I hear him say, in between labored breaths, "Untie her other arm."

Hands on my left arm now, and as it is released it falls limply; the mild pain becomes more pronounced. Sprained, maybe dislocated. Small price to pay.

"Take off the blindfold. Let her see."

I am seized with excitement. I will be able to see Jack, naked. And the girl, whoever she is. I'd only heard her voice once, and hadn't been able to place the low murmur.

A smaller body on top of me now, grinding lightly against me. I can smell her perfume; it is intoxicating. Before her hands untie the blindfold, a small mouth fits over mine, and the tongue that had licked my slit is now in my mouth. The kiss is long, the girl moaning as she Frenches me. I lift my arms to embrace her, my left arm moving stiffly, and feel her naked breasts press against mine. My hands move, then, to awkwardly fondle the generous mounds. The girl whimpers, shuddering.

She breaks the kiss, reaches around my head, and unties the blindfold. I blink in the sudden light, trying to get my bearings. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust.

Becks is sitting on top of me.

I stare at my best friend. She is straddling me, unconcerned in her nakedness. I have seen her nearly nude before -- in a bikini on the beach, in a towel after a shower. But I have never seen her like this. Not a stitch of clothing, her face flushed and her hair messy, her lips still swollen from our kiss.

She is beautiful.

Her lips -- her tongue -- had been in my pussy!

I turn my head to look at Jack (and it is Jack), sprawled naked in a nearby chair, looking spent. He is sleeping, his defined chest heaving, his hands in his lap near his penis. That had been in my pussy, too.

I look back at Rebecca. "You -- you did this. For me. Him. You." I am in awe.

She shrugs, smiling. "What are friends for?" she asks modestly.

"And I was right, Ginger -- you were delish."

END

To be explored further in "To Be A Friend"