Promiscuous

Runaway Girl hugged the wall opposite me and breathed fast. Her hands flattened against the wall, and she bent her knees and slid down just a little, her mouth gaping, eyes half-lidded. Looking at her, feeling strong and in control, I held my skirt up with one hand and tugged down my panties with the other. As they cleared one hip, I transferred my hands and brought the hip band down the other hip.

"Help me," I whispered.

Runaway Girl shot off the wall, squatting between my legs and reaching to bring my panties down my long legs. I stepped gingerly free of them, lifting one leg, then the other, knowing as I did that Runaway Girl was looking directly at my bare pussy, seeing the ring in my clit hood, and inhaling my arousal. And I was aroused. Flirting and teasing, now stripping off my panties for her. I wanted her tongue on me. I parted my legs.

"Kiss me," I hissed.

Her eyes flew up to mine. Gingerly, I touched her chin, leading her lips to my mound. Her lips were warm and dry on my skin. I yearned for her to lick me, to dip her head and run her tongue over me, but we were in the ladies' room at The Beaver Den and were likely to be interrupted at any moment.

I stood, letting my skirt fall again, and urged Runaway Girl up with a gentle touch on her shoulders. We were still alone, so I drew her close and kissed her. Her mouth opened at my touch and I knew she was mine. It thrilled me to know I had seduced her, even if I hadn't really. Holding her close, I whispered to her, "You're going to lick my pussy, aren't you, love?"

All Runaway Girl could do was nod and murmur, "Yes."

"And Tom is going to fuck you in the ass while you do and you'll love it."

"My ass?" she asked, gasping.

"Yes," I said, my voice commanding. I didn't care where or even if Tom fucked her. I was just heady with the feeling of control.

"Yes," she breathed

We were interrupted by a group of girls coming in. They made faces at us, seeing us standing close together, almost kissing. I just smiled. I took Runaway Girl's hand and led her back to our place at the bar to wait for Tom to finish his set. I was wet and excited, wearing that short skirt with nothing under it, nothing under my blouse either. I couldn't wait to have this pretty girl between my legs. She had taken her stool again, and I ran my fingers over her leg as I stood beside her. Had she been wearing a skirt, I felt sure I could have slipped my hand right under it and all she would have done was open her legs. She held my damp panties bunched under the fingers of one hand.

"Do you have a car?" I asked her, suddenly unwilling to wait for Tom any longer. It was midnight. When she told me she did, I crossed the floor between songs, and told Tom that we would see him at home. Runaway Girl and I slipped out.

We made out all the way home, which wasn't far, her driving terrible as I fondled and kissed her. She was excited and yearning. Flying into the house, we kissed and groped each other across the living room and into the bedroom. We stood together next to the bed, touching each other and kissing, unhurried yet eager too. I helped her out of her clothes, baring bits of her skin to touches and kisses and licks. I got off my own clothes too, with grace, two little bits of practically nothing, matching her as she was exposed so that she would not feel uncomfortable at being naked while I was clothed. Getting her bra off was an adventure. I had her naked and panting against the wall, biting her lip and pressing my slight body to her fuller one when she surprised me by asking if I would put those boots on for her. I mauled her heavy boobs, lifting them and letting them drop in wonder. Smiling, marveling at how odd the world is sometimes, I slipped into the boots, stretching them all the way up to my thighs, then folded back the covers from the bed and crawled to its middle, reaching up and grasping the headboard as I opened my legs and invited Runaway Girl between them.

She was divine. Her tongue touched to me and a shot blasted through me. My fingers tightened on the headboard, gripping hard as the tip of her tongue sharpened and flicked my sex. At first tentative, she grew bold as I cried out with happiness and pleasure.

I could smell her too. Her scent mingled with mine, heavier, muskier. The air was full of her. When we had stood and kissed and undressed, her skin was so soft on mine. She licked me at I tensed, cumming quickly, gripping hard on the headboard. I cried out, and that only made her more eager to please me. I selfishly let her. Fingers slipped inside of me, fucking me, as she lapped slavishly, bringing me to orgasm once more. My fingers tightened.

I was totally blissed out and barely hanging onto the headboard any longer when Tom finally got home. He was out of his clothes quickly. Runaway Girl stopped licking me long enough to say hello before going back down. I was in awe. I had cum half a dozen times and more, and she was still doing me. He smirked to se me in bed with my boots on—again.

It was so unlike me, really. I am usually much less assertive sexually. But telling Runaway Girl what to do and just lying back and letting her fuck me was so divine. I think that up until that point, I had never just let someone do me without worrying about how he or she was going to cum since I lost my virginity. I suppose I knew Tom was going to fuck her silly, and I let that knowledge just take me away from the responsibility for her orgasms.

Fuck her silly is an understatement. After I first took him into my mouth, then held his cock to her cunt to lead him into her as was our way, he and that other woman were all over the bed. He was behind her, on top of her, beside her. She was on top of him. She was on top of me, wrapped around me, and hanging off the bed, fucking.

The Runaway Girl just loved fucking. I'd never seen any of the other girls show such exuberance and undisguised lust while fucking. I wondered if I did. I wanted to.

Somewhere around dawn, we two, Runaway Girl and I, found ourselves in the classic soixante-neuf. I was nearly exhausted, and she was too, but we were on such a sexual high at that point that we just didn't know how to stop making one another cum. Our kissing and licking was slow and unhurried, our orgasms milder but sweetly intense. Tom had fallen asleep somewhere around three. About four, he roused himself enough to fuck us again, and then he was a goner.

At dawn, she and I boldly stole into the back yard and stood naked together to watch the sunrise. A blanket draped from my shoulders around us both as I held her from behind, those big ones held in each of my hands.

We entertained her again, and again the sex was wild and spirited and exciting. There was little else however, though I tried to draw her out. It became evident that Tom and I had little in common with her, whether politics or movies, or majors, or background. Runaway Girl didn't run then so much as she faded. It had just been sex, and we understood.

At this same time. I was photographing women who posed for me without their clothes, some of whom now and then flirted with me. Amy was the first of my models Tom and I slept with. There were others: Caitlin of the piercings and webcam; Tracy who was the first to bring one of those strap-on things; Cheryl who did a very interesting thing to me with her hand. Some were shy, some assertive. Tom and I fucked them, and they fucked us, basking in sensation. Promiscuously. A few times, the sex was between one of those other girls and me without Tom, and that was fine too.

Our true third—our lover—was hovering in the wings, waiting, trying to make up her mind. She was even fucking Tom already, because I had suggested she do so, though I had forgotten I had. We were growing, learning, becoming happy with who we were—and we were about to be even happier.