Friends: The Comatose Boyfriend

Monica pulled off the man, and hopped off the bed. Going to the room's private bath, she quickly cleaned herself and pulled up her panties and tights, before returning to redo part of the man's spongebath. As she washed him and dressed him in his new pajamas, Monica struggled with whether she should feel guilty.

"It wasn't REALLY wrong, was it?" she asked. Her mind filled in the silence with an imagined answer of acceptance, which was more than enough to soothe her conscience.

Monica straightened her clothes and put on her coat, before tucking him in and giving him a loving kiss. "I'll see you later, sweetie," she said softly.

As she walked past the nurse's station, her oblivious partner-in-crime called out to her. "Have a good night, dear. Will you be visiting him tomorrow?"

"Um, yes... I'm, uh... I'm pretty sure I will be able to, um... 'visit' him," Monica replied, nervously trying not to convey anything in her words or tone that would raise suspicion. "Yep, you betcha," she mumbled to herself as she walked to the elevator.

That night, she couldn't get her mind off her new flame. Monica masturbated. Twice. Once when she first went to bed, and again when she woke up from a very erotic dream. Both times, like at the hospital, she barely made a sound, fearful that Rachel and Paolo would hear her from the adjacent bedroom.

Certainly, her dildo, and later her fingers, got her off. But they just couldn't match the feeling of that man's long hard dick inside her. And so, by the point she again drifted off to sleep, Monica had determined to go back and avail herself of another session with her comatose lover.

The next day, Monica happily strolled down the hospital corridor. As she passed the nurse's station, she noticed that the head nurse from the night before, her accessory to the dirty deed, was gone. But, none of the new faces even turned to acknowledge her as she walked by, and so, she began to think that this time could be as easy as the previous night.

However, in her mind she went over her prepared story that she would call up if she was caught in the act: she was the man's finance, and she just couldn't bear feeling that so distant from him, in his comatose state. Though she knew it was a little weird, she just had to feel close to him again, and one thing led to another...

It might not be completely believable, but it should be enough to get her out of trouble. Especially if she could play it like a silly girl; truly in love, but naive and rash.

The balloons, that she bought at the giftshop as a prop to her airhead girlfriend ruse, bumped randomly together as she approached the door. She pushed on it, and walked through, still practicing her pretense as she did so.

She stopped short when she saw Phoebe. The blonde was stroking the comatose man's hair, but turned when she heard Monica enter. A look of knowing suspicion came from her.

"Hi," Monica said. Her expression attempted to hide her immediate awareness that she needed to scrub the plan without raising unwanted attention.

"Hi," Phoebe replied, with an unyielding stare and a plastic smile.

After a moment of awkward silence, Monica spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, I just thought I'd stop by..." Phoebe began to reply casually, but then realized she had no reason and thus, stammered to create one. "Y'know, after the um... that I... Y'know, so what are you doing here?"

"I'm not really here," Monica replied breezily, as she set down the small weight attached to the bundle of balloons. But the breeze quickly left her sails. "Just thought I'd drop these off... on the way... my way..." Desperate to take the focus off herself, Monica walked around Phoebe to the head of the bed, as she asked, "Do you come here a lot? Without me?"

"No," Phoebe answered, but then saw her friend adjusted the man's part the opposite direction from her own preference. "No! NO!" She controlled her objections and stepped between Monica and the man. "So, um, do you think he's doing any better than he was this morning?"

Monica maintained her poker face, and attempted to craft a convincing lie. "How would I know? I, I wasn't here."

The blonde moved in for the kill. "Really? Not even to, um, change his PAJAMAS?!" She whipped back the bedclothes to reveal the dark blue garments.

Monica laughed nervously. "I didn't change his pajamas this morning..." she continued, knowing she'd been partly caught and had to admit something, yet still wanting to hide the real truth. "I changed his pajamas last night."

Phoebe crossed her arms, as she grilled her friend. "Uh huh, uh huh... was that before, or after, you HAD SEX WITH HIM?"

"I, I didn't have, have sex with, um, with him," Monica stammered, quite unconvincing in her deception.

"No?" the blonde replied, sternly.

Monica was silent for a minute, then she cracked. "Okay, I had sex with him. Damn it! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?"

Phoebe explained, knowingly, and with not a little pride. "Oh, I know when people have had sex. It's, like, one of my psychic... erotic... abilities. It's all very psych-erotic, really."

Then she shook herself back to the realization that she was supposed to be mad. "But that's not what we're talking about. I can't believe you made me feel, like, wrong... and, and, like a bad person, just for wanting to give him handjob. And here you are, just screwing his brains out behind my back. Or, maybe behind my front." She looked toward the window, trying to get her bearings. "I don't really know which way the hospital faces when I'm in my apartment."

In the midst of Phoebe's confusion, Monica jumped at the chance to appease her. "Look, Phoebe, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Oh, you didn't mean for it to happen. And like, just how many times did it happen?"

"Only once, last night."

"Okay, and did you like, WANT it to happen again?"

"No," Monica fibbed, convincingly.

"Oh, really. So you never again wanted to have his... big piece... of, like, man-meat stuffed inside you," she said angrily, trying to shake Monica with her crude words.

"No," the brunette answered, losing some of her resolve.

"Right. And you didn't come back this afternoon to have sex with him again."

Monica cleared her throat and the word came weakly. "No."

"Are you wearing underwear?"

Monica's face grimaced as she answered, "No?"

"Mm-hm, mm-hm, I see... Stockings or pantyhose?"

"Stockings?" She was pained to reply, as she stared at the floor.

"Stockings and no panties, huh? Seems like you're dressed for, like, easy access."

"All right, all right. I want to have sex with him again. It was good, okay? I came back wanting to do him again, right now. All right? Now you know. Satisfied?"

The room was dead quiet, as both women contemplated the next move.

"Well, if you're going to have sex with him, I will too," Phoebe declared. "In fact, I'm going first."

In spite of being caught, interrogated, and made to feel that she'd betrayed her friend, Monica flared at Phoebe's suggestion. "What? No! You're not going first. I should go first."

"Why? Why should you get him first?"

She reached for reasons, none of which seemed particularly valid. "Well, because it was my idea. And after all, I came here planning on doing this. I've been thinking about this all day, and I'm, I'm already kind of ready, y'know. So... so, it'll be easier and faster if I go first."

"Yeah well, 'fast and easy' certainly does describe you," Phoebe said, not too far under her breath.

Monica's mouth dropped open as she gasped in shock and anger.

The blonde woman immediately tried to gloss over her insult. "Well, we sure won't be able to decide who gets him first... okay, that's pretty clear... and it's not like we can both, ya know, do what you did... well, not at the same time, at least... but we CAN both do what I..." Her voice trailed off, as she realized what she was admitting.

"WHAT? What did you do, Phoebe?"

"I, um, gave him a massage," the blonde prevaricated.

"PHOEBE..." Monica's stern tone turned her name into a warning.

"Okay, okay, when I came back to get my guitar that night, I kinda sorta gave him a blowjob."

"You kinda... sorta... gave him a blowjob?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is that we can both do that, at the same time. See? No fighting over who gets him first."

Monica paused, and looked at her friend as she assessed the idea. Then a demure smile crept on her lips. "True, we could both do that. All right. Lemme make sure no one's coming." Monica peeked out the door, and confirmed that all the staff were far down the hall. It slipped shut.

"OH!" Phoebe pointed excitedly. "Put the plant in front of it, so that, ya know, if anyone tries to come in, they'll like wonder, 'What's this plant doing here?" And, we'll like, just, cover him up, really quick. And they'll never know."

Monica smiled at her friend as she moved the potted greenery into place. "Wow, Phoebe. I never knew you could be so devious," she teased.

"Well, this head is good for more than just displaying a gorgeous face, y'know."

Monica chuckled as she returned to the bed. Phoebe pulled the blanket down to the foot of the bed, as Monica began tugging on the pajama bottoms.

"Push up his top. We don't want to get anything on these," the fastidious brunette instructed. As Phoebe shuffled the silk shirt up above his waist, Monica struggled to get the bottoms and boxers down below his ass. But with one final hard yank, the clothing obeyed.

They looked down at the exposed man, his limp penis drooping between his thighs. "All right, we don't have much time," Monica gestured as she evaluated the situation out loud. "Maybe 10, 15 minutes tops."

"Okay, well let's get him hard," the blonde agreed, reaching for his cock and slowly stroking it.

"No time, Pheebs. Just start sucking," Monica said as she moved her friend's hand, and bent over to put the soft head in her mouth.

"Ooo, yeah, or licking," Phoebe suggested and began lapping the top side of his shaft, from its base to Monica's face.

"Yepfh, yicking ipfh good, too," her friend agreed, mouth full of dick.

With the attention of the brunette's suckling lips, and the blonde's wet tongue, the cock began to lengthen and harden. It slowly came erect, and Monica shifted her focus lower. "Ooo! That's good. Yes. Suck his balls," Phoebe said, before her head went over the top.

A set of lips gave a gentle pulsing suction, first to one nut, then the other, then back to the first. A second velvety mouth slipped up and down the rod. And a penis soon became very stiff.

Phoebe's head left the penis, and she smacked her lips as she jacked the shaft. Seeing an opening, Monica's mouth quickly moved up from the man's ballsack, to cover the head.

Phoebe was about to protest, but then saw how beautiful Monica looked sucking cock. Porcelain skin, blue eyes, dark hair. But the thing that caused Phoebe's words to catch in her throat were Monica's bright red lips. They were wrapped tightly around the shaft. The shade of lipstick matched the scarlet winter scarf that still hung from Monica's neck. It was like her friend's lips were always intended to be around a dick.

As Monica's head moved up and down, Phoebe reached over and lovingly brushed back her brunette locks, so she could watch her give head. She watched as her cheeks hollowed out at the top of an upstroke, just before her mouth dove down for another series of lip-jacks.

"My god, Monica," she said in admiration, "I never knew you were such a good cocksucker. I'm VERY impressed."

The sucking vixen's eyes smiled back. She winked at Phoebe, conveying her thanks, and somewhat to say that she already knew she was an experienced blowjob artist.

As Monica continued sucking, Phoebe patiently waited her turn and caressed her friend's shoulders and upper back. She felt the soft thin cashmere of Monica's pull-over top. What would be considered a friendly gesture turned sexual in that blonde noggin as she recalled the time that, as roommates, they had crossed the line.

It had started out as a drunken dare after a night on the town. Phoebe and Monica ended up making out on the couch, which both girls remembered the next morning. They nervously tried to pass off their passionate kissing and lustful petting as the by-product of too many tequila shots. Besides, they had both kept their clothes on. "No harm, no foul, right?" Monica reasoned, to Phoebe's agreement.

But a couple weekends later, Monica held a small wine and cheese party to share some bottles of Cabernet and Pinot Noir that were a gift from her boss. After everyone had left, the pair found themselves back on the couch. That time, courtesy of the liberal libations, they went further. The candles that Monica had lit to give a relaxed atmosphere to the evening, instead fueled desire and romance in both alcohol-fogged minds.

Kissing turned to petting. Petting turned to groping. Groping went further, as hands went up skirts and into blouses. Fingers dipped into bras and panties.

Clothes came off; though later, neither could recall who had removed what from whom. With both women as equal aggressors, they masturbated each other on the couch.

Phoebe came first with her pussy lips throbbing around Monica's fingers. Then she regained her focus and renewed her efforts to make Monica cum. And at a point when she knew Monica was unwilling to say no, Phoebe asked, and was allowed, was almost begged, to eat the beautiful brunette's pussy.

Monica came hard. Her body arched and she grabbed onto a blonde head, nearly screaming as a tongue created gunshots of pleasure through her body.

After a deep slumber, they said nothing when they came out of their rooms for breakfast. They both knew it wasn't a dream, though secretly they both knew that life would be easier if it was. Finally, when they awkwardly discussed what happened, they agreed that they weren't lesbians, and that as a one-time stupid drunken act, they should make sure it never happened again.

But now, as Phoebe gently caressed her friend's back, all the while watching her perform a sex act, her blonde pussy began to moisten and dirty thoughts entered her mind.

The sexy brunette had worn a high-waisted skirt that crossed her torso well above her navel. It was tight above her hips, but flared loosely to give the easy access she expected she'd need. As Phoebe's fingers glided over Monica's upper back, they eventually crossed the waistband, like a small horde of marauders sneaking through a no-man's-land.

Monica was so enjoying the blowjob she was giving that she didn't really notice her friend's actions. That is, until Phoebe began caressing her ass.

As she stood there, bent over the side of the hospital bed, Monica felt gentle stroking on her butt. The thin grey wool of her skirt did little to reduce the sensations, especially as Phoebe's hand dipped behind and ran across the very tops of her thighs, pressing the soft wool garment against her bare pussy.

Though the answer was obvious, Monica looked up and asked nervously with a partially filled mouth, "Wh- what are you doin'?"

"You just keep sucking, young lady," Phoebe directed with a dirty smile. The young Miss Geller obediently resumed suckling the penis. Phoebe's hands began roaming freely, with no protest heard.

Monica's own memories of their tryst came flooding back. It was soothingly familiar when a hand reached under her and lovingly grabbed her breast.

The blonde squeezed the handful of flesh, and it yielded to her touch. She fondled them with appreciation, first one, then the other, as her other hand continued attending to Monica's tight little bottom.

But, dissatisfied with the texture of fabric, Phoebe wanted to experience the softness of her partner's skin. Her fingertips slipped into the unbuttoned V-neck of Monica's top.

The black cloth stretched to accommodate her hand, as it slid between her friend's chest and the comatose man's thigh. She deftly unsnapped the front of Monica's bra, freeing her breasts. A slightly muffled moan came from her right as her hand grazed across a sensitive protrusion.

A groaned assent and a slight lifting of a torso gave the blonde permission to play. Monica's nipples were rock hard. Phoebe gently pinched one and rolled it between her fingers.

"God, Phoebe, rub my tits," Monica murmured around the dick.

She began touching and rubbing and squeezing Monica's breasts. Her friend stopped giving head for a few moments, closing her eyes and savoring the renewed familiarity of Phoebe handling her body.

The hands of a masseuse slowly worked her over, though not with any therapeutic intent. Her breasts... her ass... her back... the backs of her legs... down her right leg... then, fingers abandoning her breasts and moving down her stomach... Phoebe's right hand joining its mate to glide up Monica's leg... reaching through her legs... upward to cup her genitals...

Monica gasped as the downy wool was pushed and rubbed against her clit, sending tingles through her body.

The whole time, during Phoebe's erotic assault, the brunette's mouth traveled up and down the underside of the sleeping man's shaft, as she held it to her lips. Then she went over the top and put the head back in her luscious mouth. The sucking went on with ever more zeal. Monica had never had a threesome before, and even though one of this trio was unconscious, the adventure of it was intoxicating.

Phoebe leaned in and used her cheek to sweep away shoulder-length black hair. One of her pigtail braids landed across her partner's face as she kissed and nuzzled the nape of Monica's neck. She lavished attention to her friend's neck and earlobes.

Minutes before, the sexy, quirky blonde woman was wanting a big hard cock in her mouth. But now, she had a more urgent taste for a tender little pussy.

"Oh god, yes," Monica's mind whispered, as she felt a hand reach down to her ass and grab a handful of long flowing skirt, pulling it to her waist. The action was repeated twice more and she felt the hem lightly brush against her legs as it traveled upward.

Phoebe stood. She wore an oversized olive-green cardigan sweater with muted burgundy, red, and yellow stripes on the sleeves, and a long black skirt with a tan floral pattern. She quickly unbuttoned her sweater and shucked it onto the floor. Underneath, she wore a matching green tanktop that hugged her breasts. Points came through her bra and shirt, revealing some of her arousal.

She moved behind Monica and slid her hands over her ass and down the backs of her thighs, leaning in against her as she did so. Her fingers glided over the brunette's knees and then moved inward.

Monica had been standing with her legs together, one knee slightly bent and the other straight. Almost demure or nonchalant; at least, as demure and nonchalant as a girl could be, standing in stockings and heels with her skirt up around her waist and her naked pussy exposed to the world. But with the caress of Phoebe's hands, Monica's weight shifted and her feet moved apart, almost as if in total obedience to the blonde's touch.

Palms pressed into the nylon-covered flesh of Monica's inner thighs. They skimmed upward to find a trimmed strip of hair. Phoebe's fingertips toyed in the patch for a few moments, to Monica's soft pleading whimpers, before her hands wrapped though and up and around the petite woman's thighs and crotch. They rested on the smooth skin that framed Monica's wet slit.

Phoebe's breasts pressed into Monica's back as she bent over the bent-over woman. Her face was inches behind Monica's head, close enough to be erotic, but not so close to be intimate, when she whispered.

"Do you want me to, like, do it, Mon? Ya know... what I did before?"