Her Friend Made Me Do It

I don't know how I ended up selling auto parts rather than fixing vehicles, which is what I really enjoy. Sure, the pay is good and working at a counter is easier on my body, but I prefer the challenge of troubleshooting mechanical contraptions. I digress.

As I was leaving the store at the end of a long day, a coworker, Kate intercepted me at the time clock.

"Would you do me a favor?" she asked.

Kate and I have known each other for about three years. For two-plus of those, I was the grease-monkey on the other side of the counter and she the salesperson. For the last six months, I've been working with Kate on her side of the counter.

The girl knows her auto parts. I am continually asking her for help with part numbers and suppliers. She's a great coworker and has taken me on as her training project. We're close in age; I'm twenty-two and she is a couple of years older.

"Sure!" I answered, not knowing what the favor was.

"Thanks. A high-school friend of mine is visiting and needs help. She is loath to ask for assistance, but I know you're the guy to help her."

Looking back, I should have been more suspicious, but when she asked I figured it had something to do with computers. When I'm not working on jacked-up Jeeps or selling auto parts, I'm tinkering with computers. Someday I hope to make a living working on computers. They are as interesting as troubleshooting vehicles, but they are cleaner and the pay is better. For now, my friends know that I'm available to fix their rides or computers.

"Does she own a PC or a Mac?" I asked. I'm much better with PCs, but I can hold my own with Macs.

Kate grinned and replied, "I'm not sure. Can you come over at about seven?" She scratched her address on one of the store's notepads.

"I'll pour you a shot, or two, of good whiskey and find a way to repay you."

Kate knew I liked whiskey from our rambling conversations between customers. As for the "repayment," I knew what I'd like, to slip into her little panties. I felt creepy letting that thought sneak into my head. Yuck, what a fucking guy thing to think. Kate and I don't have much in common and I don't want to screw up our relationship at work. The fantasy quickly passed.

I drove the 15 minutes or so home, took a shower (after being a mechanic I've fallen into the habit of always showering when I got home), and had a huge salad. Yeah, salad isn't exactly a macho-mechanic meal, but it's what I often crave when I get home. I was tempted to pour my usual three-fingers of whiskey, but remembering Kate's offer, I figured I'd want a clear head fixing her friend's computer.

I knocked on Kate's apartment door a few minutes after seven. She opened it, smiled, and gesturing toward the laptop satchel slung across my chest, said, "I don't think you'll be needing that."

(I was only mildly puzzled by her statement. You, obviously, understand her meaning based on where you are reading this. I was clueless.)

I saw what I assumed was Kate's high-school friend sitting on a tall, backless bar stool near the little kitchen counter. She did make my heart skip a beat or two (or three). A little hottie, she was petite with narrow, but not too boyish hips, full but not too out-of-proportion breasts, and short dark hair. Damn! I thought; I could do that! And then my reoccurring follow-up thought arrived: don't be a creep!

I slipped off my satchel and leaned it on the wall near the door as Kate picked up one of the three whiskey glasses on the counter and handed it to me. It was a fairly large pour with one of those huge, square ice cubes swirling in it. She topped off the girls' glasses as I took my first sip.

"I'm Steve," I said extending my hand to Kate's friend.

"Oh! Sorry!" said, Kate, "Steve, this is Amy. Amy this is Steve. Amy and I went to high school together. She's visiting for a week on her way back to college. She's going to be a big-shot lawyer."

"Hi," replied Amy, smiling and then looking down at her glass. Unlike extroverted Kate, she seemed a bit shy.

"Hi Amy," I said. "Kate said you need help with something?"

I saw Amy's face darken, but Kate solved the mystery before I could ponder the blushing.

"Amy needs to get fucked," Kate said matter-of-factly as she swirled the large cube in her glass.

Now it was me that blushed. My physical reaction included jerking my head back quickly. As I write this, I don't want to admit that I was ready to run, but the shock of Kate's words must have released a little fight-or-flight response. I guess it should have been, fuck-or-flight. I'd certainly choose the former, but my instinct was the latter.

Amy's reaction, however, was even more obvious. Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide in disbelief as she spun to look at Kate. She didn't say anything, but her expression screamed, "What the fuck did you just say, Kate?"

Juxtaposed to Amy's nonverbal response, Kate's words had been matter-of-fact and said with authority. Kate's confidence implied her belief that she knew what Amy needed even if Amy didn't. And she pronounced "fucked" with a hard "f" that emphasized the verb and her conviction.

Amy continued to stare at Kate with wide eyes. She swallowed hard. Her face continued to darken.

I, being the guy I am sometimes ashamed of, felt swelling in my shorts.

After a few moments of hesitation, I found my voice. I wanted some of that.

"Is that true, Amy?" I asked.

It wasn't that I was feeling bold or confident. In fact, I am normally a little shy and usually require the girl to make the first move. In hindsight, I guess that's what was happening here, but Kate was the girl who was making the move on Amy's behalf.

Before explaining what happened next, I need to clarify that Kate and I never talked about sex and hadn't hung out together. We were friends, but only coworker friends. Nothing in our relationship or her asking me to come over tonight led to me anticipating this and I don't know why she was so sure I'd oblige.

Although I'm on the shy side of the introvert-extrovert scale, Kate's confidence emboldened me. Testosterone might have played a role, too.

"Is that true, Amy?" I asked again.

"That's what Kate thinks," Amy answered concisely. Her eyes dropped to her glass.

"But I'm not looking to get," she paused, "to 'get fucked' if that's what you're asking."

She looked up at me, and then at Kate, to gauge our reactions.

"And that, my dear friend," said Kate, "is my point."

"She isn't getting laid and hasn't been trying to," Kate continued. "She hasn't been fucked for at least a year, and I'm unsure she has ever gotten the pounding she deserves."

The swelling in my pants had increased. (I should probably use the word "hardened," as that is a better description of what was happening to my penis.)

I walked over to Amy who was still seated on the padded bar stool.

"Stand up," I said. Maybe it came across as an order. That wasn't my intent, but I was feeding off of Kate's confidence.

Amy stood.

"Do you need to get fucked?" I asked, lifting her chin with my fingers and looking directly into her eyes.

Amy looked up at me and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know" was her avoiding answer.

I reached up and began unbuttoning her shirt. It was similar to a guy's dress shirt, although clearly a woman's.

After undoing the final button, I used both hands to lift it off her shoulders and pull it down to her elbows, exposing her bra and partially trapping her arms.

She was wearing a neutral-colored bra that matched her skin. I unhooked the fastener between her breasts, pulled the cups to the side, and pulled the straps off of her shoulders and down to her elbows.

Amy was looking at the floor. Her rapidly rising and falling breasts conveyed her excitement—or fear.

"Man, she's beautiful," I said to Kate, who flashed me a big smile in return.

I reached up and gently brushed the back of my hand against one of Amy's protruding nipples. She took a deep breath.

Using my thumbs and index fingers, I squeezed her nipples. I didn't squeeze the actual nipples, but the dark areas around them. I squeezed harder than I normally would in an attempt to gauge her reaction. Amy's response was immediate: a shiver of her body as an "uh" sound escaped her lips.

I have never moved so quickly, sexually. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'd only had a handful of one-night stands. And I've never moved forward without a clear indication from my partner that she wanted to have sex.

"Do you want to get fucked, Amy?" I asked, this time phrasing the question with "want" rather than "need." It was a subtle difference.

"I think so," was her nervous answer.

I reached down and, with a little awkwardness, undid the button on her tight jeans. Pulling down the zipper, I made sure to my knuckles traced a firm line down her midline.

She responded with another moan.

"Turn around," I told her.

I guess this time I was giving an order.

Amy turned around.

I grasped her jeans on either side of her small hips and with one determined yank, pulled them to her ankles. She stepped out of one of the pant legs to maintain her balance.

She was wearing cute, pink panties. Not those too-pink, girly-girl panties, but a soft pink that complimented her skin tone.

I pulled them down just as swiftly.

Amy stepped out of them with the same foot. Her panties and pants remained bunched around her other ankle. She placed her feet about shoulder-width apart. She may have thought this was for balance. I assumed it was for access.

"Put your hands on the counter."

My instructions were clear.

She complied by grabbing the edge of the bar-like counter.

I undid my thick leather belt, dropped my pants, and stepped out of my pants and boxer briefs.

My penis was at full attention. I felt that familiar, "I'm fucking horny and not thinking clearly" sensation. I glanced over at Kate who was staring at us, and my shaft in particular, and grinning.

"I told you she needs to get fucked." She said, in an I-told-you-so voice.

I reached my hand between Amy's legs from behind, spread her inner lips, and placed the pad of my middle finger on her opening.

"Is that true Amy? Do you need to get fucked?"

I begin to press on her wet opening with a steady, pulsing rhythm. Not penetrating, just pressing.

"Because I can stop now," I offered.

I wanted the question, and her confirmation, to be undeniable. I suspect there are plenty of girls who do want to fuck; I don't want to mess around with someone who doesn't.

I continued to press the pad of my finger against her opening with a steady rhythm.

"Yes." She replied in a trembling voice. "I need to get fucked."

I pulled her sleeve and bra off of her right arm.

"Bend over the stool," I instructed.

As she stepped back and began to lean over the high bar stool, I reached further between her legs, cupped her mound with my hand, and lifted her onto the padded seat. With her mound pressed onto the stool and her feet off the floor, she grasped the counter to steady herself.

I spread her thighs with my hands, exposing her pink lips. They glistened with excitement.

Pushing my penis down with one hand while spreading her tiny lips with my other, I inserted about half of my swollen head into her. It was purple with desire.

"Uh!" She moaned.

I love that sound. I love that feeling. I pressed a little more.

"Uh! Uh!" She couldn't keep the sounds from escaping.

"Girl, you need a good fucking," Kate encouraged.

"Yeah," replied Amy. Her word was a combination of affirmation and submission.

I pushed in an inch and held it motionless.

"Oh fuck!" She blurted out.

I looked up at Kate who nodded her head.

"Fuck her slowly. And only give her a little of what she wants."

I can follow instructions. After all, Kate is my mentor, at least at work.

I pulled out the inch and slid it back in. I did this a few more times. I gave enough of a push each time to get the inevitable moan but I maintained enough of a delay between strokes to edge her on.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" she said with each short thrust.

Yeah, the girl needed a fucking. As did I.

I continued the slow pace. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, thrust. After every five or ten thrusts I would penetrate a little deeper. This went on for a minute.

I stopped the slow thrusting and looked down to inspect my work. All but the last inch or two of my stiff penis was inside her. Her inner lips were stretched tightly around my shaft, which was shiny from her natural lubricant. Licking the end of my thumb, I pressed its pad against her exposed, dark, anus. The response was powerful.

"Uhhhh!"

My thumb hadn't penetrated her ass, but the pressure on that sensitive spot made her tremble. I felt her vagina contract.

I looked over at Kate who appeared to be pleased with my "work." She gave a gesture with her head to indicate, "Okay, you can get on with it."

I did. Slowly increasing the speed and depth of my thrusts until I was burying myself. Our bodies made a slapping sound at the end of each thrust.

Amy's hands grasped the counter tightly. Her little body lay across the stool, its seat rotating slightly with each thrust, her legs dangling in the air.

It is surprising, and maybe not surprising, how we reveal our true selves during the passion of sex. Amy released the lusty words she had been feeling, and I suspect, suppressing.

"Fuck me. Oh, fuck me. Fuck me!"

I realize those words, when written, sound like a cliché. They're probably cliché-like because they're often said.

I complied by pounding away on her tiny, happy hole.

"Shiiiiitttt" she gasped as her body stiffened and shook.

I continued pounding away unrelentingly as her orgasms ended and restarted. Ended and restarted.

After several minutes of repeated orgasms, she released the counter and folded over the stool.

I slid my still stiff penis out, gently lifted Amy's limp body, and lay her down on Kate's small couch. Kate picked up a nearby knit blanket and covered Amy who had already drifted off into a sleep-like state.

Turning to Kate, I asked, "What about you?"

She smiled, looked down at my rigid penis, and answered, "I definitely need to get fucked."

As with Amy, I unbuttoned her shirt, starting at the top. Kate's breasts were a little smaller than Amy's but they were truly beautiful. I looked into Kate's eyes and spoke the truth.

"My god, you are beautiful!"

She smiled and looked down.

My penis had sagged slightly but was no less interested.

As with Amy, I pressed my knuckles firmly against her midline as I pulled down the zipper on her jeans.

While still facing her, I grasped her jeans and pulled them to her ankles. The front of her white undies was wet with excitement.

I pulled them down to the floor.

"Step out," I instructed.

She did.

Standing naked in front of me, I decided to give her the same nipple treatment that Amy received. I squeezed the dark circles around her nipples between my thumbs and the first joint of my index fingers. I applied the pressure quickly in an attempt to create intense-but- pleasurable pain.

"Oh mother fucker," she blurted out.

I release the pressure slowly.

"Assume the position," I instructed, gesturing toward the stool.

Kate looked up at me. She no longer had the grinning confidence she wore when it was Amy who was about to get fucked.

She turned around, leaned over the stool, and grabbed the edge of the counter.

"How about it Kate? Do you need to get fucked?" I figured she should have the same chance as Amy to turn down the treatment.

"Yeah, I think so." I heard her swallow. "But now that I'm in Amy's position," she continued, "well, I'm a little scared." There was a pause. "Be gentle."

I stepped between her legs and put the end of my penis between her lips. I was surprised at how wet she was.

Intent on giving her the same medicine she'd "inflicted" on Amy, I began the same painfully-slow thrusting, using only two or three inches of my achingly stiff penis. Each thrust was sudden. I paused for several seconds before withdrawing and replunging it.

"Oh, Jesus, Steve!"

Her words revealed the joy of deprived pleasure.

"It only seems fair to give you a taste of your own medicine," I explained, giving her another rapid thrust, followed by the anticipated and excruciatingly long pause.

"Now who was it who said, 'Only give her a little of what she wants'?" My question was clearly rhetorical.

Bam! Another thrust followed by an even longer pause.

I continued this treatment for over a minute. That might not seem long as you read this, but for Kate it was torture.

Pleasure denied; pleasure delivered. Repeat.

The words finally came. "Please fuck me. That's enough playing around. Fuck me."

"Not yet, Kate," I taunted. "You deserve this."

I continued the slow pounding. She began to tremble.

"I'm going to cum," she confessed.

I felt her body tighten as I continued to pump with a slow, but now steadier, pace. I penetrated her a little deeper with each thrust.

Her orgasm was powerful. The slow thrusting had been unbearable. I felt her pussy expand and contract repeatedly as a series of low, growling moans escaped her mouth.

After her release, I held still, with my penis about halfway inside.

Under normal circumstances, I would consider my job complete and would focus on my pleasure. But these weren't normal circumstances, and I was experiencing pleasure unlike anything I had experienced before.

"Kate, you need to get fucked, hard." I said, "fucked" with the coarse "f" she'd used when stating Amy's needs.

She looked at me over her shoulder, repositioned her hands on the counter as if to brace herself for what was next. She turned her head toward the floor and said one word.

"Okay."

I began the slow thrusting again, to which Kate responded with another "Oh fuck!" I expect she felt the welling of another orgasm approaching.

I quickened the pace, increasing the depth of my stroke with each thrust until my penis was inserted to its extent. Looking down, I enjoyed the site of my shaft plunging in and out of her pink, wet skin.

Kate's hands were clenched on the counter. Her feet were just off the floor, with her mound pressed firmly against the padded stool.

Let the pounding begin.

I picked up the speed, burying myself with each thrust as I pounded into her. I could see the juices running down the insides of her legs. Bam, bam, bam I continued to thrust. My head spun. I could vaguely hear Kate moaning, blurting out swearwords, and begging with the proverbial but appropriate "don't fucking stop" request. My penis had never felt so engorged; my balls were pulled up tightly. Jolts of electricity shot through my shaft, through my balls, and circled my excited ass. It was me who spoke the uncontrollable truth.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" I could no longer hold back.

I could feel the contractions of my prostate as my penis raised its head to deliver shot after shot of juice. My knees wanted to buckle, but my hips wanted to thrust.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I whimpered as my cum shot into her. "Ohhh!"

I could vaguely hear Kate's echoing screams.

After expelling my last shot, I staggered backward and fell to the ground, catching myself with an outstretched hand. Sitting on the carpet, I propped myself against the couch. Kate released her hands from the counter and used them to push herself off the stool. She dropped to her knees and lay on the floor with her head on my thighs.

"Man, I needed to get fucked," I said, as we drifted off to sleep.