Rambling Chantrix

“Shit,” he said, and I fully turned from the TV to watch Vivian drop her head into his lap and catch his ejaculation in her mouth.

She stayed there a moment, bobbing a bit, one hand still under Barry’s balls, the other pressing gently on his abdomen. Her naked ass faced me on the couch, upturned, asshole in easy evidence, pussy lips slightly parted. I’d like to say that I simply let myself look as Barry had taught me, but the truth is I was transfixed.

Barry let out a few whimpers and leaned back, eyes closed. The sound and gesture weren’t novel to me: this was release for Barry, not unlike the best of our massage times.

As I made the connection, I realized that I truly, genuinely wasn’t the least bit disturbed with what I’d witnessed. If you assign essential meaning to sex, it was leagues beyond the intimacy I’d shared with my roommates, but if you don’t, it wasn’t really a qualitative departure. In fact I felt almost the exact same satisfaction as I did upon seeing Barry enjoy a good massage. Someone I liked felt good, and had been treated with care. This wasn’t like one of the pornos I’d tried and failed to enjoy as a teenager, eager to relate to my allosexual peers. What I’d watched wasn’t a performative act designed to cater to tastes I lacked. It was pure intimate pleasure, something I already knew I liked seeing during massage.

Vivian sat up, swallowed, and looked back at me furtively.

“Shit, RC, I—” She turned to Barry, with his eyes closed, then to the birds on the TV, then finally back to me. “I guess we should, uh, talk about what just happened, huh?”

I shook my head.

#

It’s pretty hard to balance this conversational style with like, good narrative pacing, foreshadowing, yada yada. Believe me, I’m trying. And if I’ve done anything approaching a good job, you may have connected the dots faster than I did and figured out that Barry was coming into his own as an unabashed exhibitionist. In retrospect, this was exploratory for him, a big part of why it was so hard for Vivian to explain why he’d been hiding in the first place. They didn’t get it at first. Nudism as they understood it—and as they had explained it to me, as you’ll recall—was about freedom, not sexuality, and the fact that he found his cock rising when naked in my presence had set them on a lengthy introspective journey. I realized this much later, because I’m slow at everything except inappropriate repartees and Vivian was rightfully embarrassed to discuss the issue in full at the time.

I digress. If you’re not slow like me, you may remember all those stories Vivian told me back in college, and you may be wondering if maybe Barry wasn’t the only exhibitionist in our household.

You may also recall that she and I are both certified pros at setting good boundaries.

She took my head shake at face value.

We never talked about that moment on the couch.

Or should I say those moments? They kept happening.

Not right away, of course. I think they were waiting to see if I’d have more to say. But I didn’t. We kept hanging out like nothing had happened. And within the week, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, Barry palmed Vivian’s titty while they were waiting for me to take my turn in Settlers. I remember looking up from the board, watching the way her skin moved as he massaged it in a circular motion. Her nipple stuck out between his fingers, dark and hard.

“Take your turn RC,” she said, and then they kissed.

This was no chaste peck. Their breathing was ragged and they were swapping tongue. I couldn’t see from my position, but I’m pretty sure her hand was on his cock under the table.

I took my turn, and they stopped. Vivian took her turn. Barry took his. My next move was pretty fast, and we just kept playing from that point as if the only thing we were doing was playing—if playing Settlers of Catan was super exciting, that is. They were flushed. A little breathless. She played with one hand. Her other remained under the table.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve played a lot of Settlers of Catan. It’s a pretty popular gateway game, so you’ve no doubt heard of it. If you’ve not played it, and you read the above, you might think, damn, is Catan, like, a sexy game?

It’s not. It’s honestly on the boring end of board games in my book. You do a lot of building, a lot of trading.

But it’s pervasive, so Vivian, addressing Barry, was probably not the first person in the world to say:

“Alright love, what do you want for your wood?”

I lost my cider at that one.

Vivian’s arm rocked as she pumped Barry’s cock under the table.

Barry smiled. “It’s yours for the taking, but let’s get through the game first.”

“We can take five,” I said, maybe too eagerly. I wanted to see him feel good.

“You sure?” asked Barry.

“Yeah, I’ve got some messages to respond to anyway.”

I busied myself on my phone as Vivian knelt under the table and blew Barry. I didn’t have much of a view, but it was happening less than a foot away from me, Vivian’s ass occasionally hitting my foot as she worked. At the first contact, I flinched, and almost moved away. But you know what? Her ass was super smooth, and soft, and it felt nice against my toes. I just sat there, typing a few things to friends while my old classmate brought her boyfriend to orgasm right in front of me.

They didn’t need five. Barry must have been very worked up, because she had him moaning in three.

I glanced up as he came, and again, he had his eyes closed.

Under the table, Vivian giggled.

She emerged with a bit of cum on her chin, seemingly oblivious, and we went back to playing our game. With my superior focus and presence of mind, I won easily. Just kidding. Vivian crushed us. She always did. She was a Catan fiend.

And, apparently, a fiend for blowjobs.

They became a nightly ritual.

No matter what we were up to in the living room, at some point Barry’s erection would reach some point—or Vivian’s desire to please would reach some point, I still don’t know what the trigger was—and she’d go to town on him for a few minutes.

#

“Hey Barry, can I ask a stupid question?” I asked one night as Vivian wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Barry’s cock was a mess of saliva, slowly shrinking, its angry flush fading.

“Uh, sure?” Barry opened his eyes and blinked. He looked surprised that I wanted to say anything. So far not a word had passed between us about the fact that their nudism had evolved into daily oral sex.

“Why is it always just you?”

“What do you mean?”

Vivian sat back on the couch next to him. Queer Eye kept running in the background. “Don’t play dumb, Barry.”

He shrugged. “Really seems more like your question to answer, V.”

She looked at me, and I looked at her. She was clearly turned on, her skin a bit redder than normal around her neck and tits, her nipples standing to attention. Her legs spread open lazily, and her vulva glistened a bit.

We were quiet for a moment. She looked at me searchingly. Finally she spoke.

“I feel like I know you well enough to know you really are cool with everything we’ve been doing.” I was. “I trust you to tell me if you’re not. But the thing is... how to put this? It would be different, if Barry were doing stuff to me.”

“Why?” I asked.

I wasn’t fishing for anything. I was honestly curious.

“Barry likes being watched,” Vivian said. “He’s an exhibitionist. We know that now. But it’s a general thing. We’ve played a bit outside and it doesn’t really matter who’s looking. He doesn’t even need to see them, he just needs to know he’s being watched. You know how he’s always got his eyes closed when we, yeah.”

“And?”

“And it’s not the same for me.” Vivian was blushing. “I don’t know if I can explain it, but my arousal is different.”

“I mean if you’re not into the exhibitionism thing...” Though I was pretty sure she was, because all physical signs pointed toward serious arousal.

“It’s not that,” she confirmed. “Listen, RC, I don’t wanna make things weird, I—”

“They’re already weird,” I laughed.

“Shit...”

“It’s okay. Weird is fine. I’m not uncomfortable.”

“But you might be.”

“I’d say something.”

We’d been living together for almost three months at this point. We’d navigated a few chore-related conflicts. We hung out every day. We knew each other, trusted each other. We were like family, except, I suppose, that family doesn’t watch family go down on family. Maybe the expression isn’t perfect. Point is, I did feel comfortable, and I did feel like I could express myself if I stopped being comfortable.

Barry squeezed Vivian’s hand, and she nodded.

“It’s you, RC. I like being watched by you, and I want to see you watching me. If I got off now, it would be because of you. It would, you know, *involve* you.”

“Gotcha.”

She squinted. “Just, gotcha?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not a lot to go on,” she said.

“That’s how I feel about all this stuff constantly.” I smiled. On the TV, Antoni said something stupid about thyme. “I never know what to think about you guys doing this, because I don’t really understand it. All I know is it doesn’t bother me.” I paused. No. She trusted me. I had to be honest. “Sorry, I know more than that. I know that I enjoy seeing you enjoy yourselves. I enjoy this time together, and I don’t really see why you shouldn’t as well.”

“I can enjoy spending time with you without shoving sex in your face,” Vivian objected.

“Can you?” I asked, intending to rib her gently.

She took it the wrong way. The sex flush receded as she buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god, RC, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I fucked up, this is so fucked up, fuck.”

Barry wrapped her in his arms, reassuring her with little noises.

My own heart dropped.

“You freaking out like this is way worse than you sucking dick,” I said, trying again to leaven the situation. But the words didn’t sound right, or maybe it was my tone. I felt like I was missing the point.

“Not helping, friend,” said Barry gently.

“V,” I said, kneeling at her feet, “you’re great. You’re so fun, and dynamic, and you’re horrible for board games ‘cause you kick all our asses. I’m the luckiest idiot in the world to chance into living with you like this.”

I think I said some things about trust and how she had to trust me if I was supposed to trust her. It was probably muddled and honestly I don’t remember how it goes. You may have wondered how this is a true story with so much dialogue. The thing about me is I fixate on things said. I recite them for weeks, months. It’s an obsession. But this, I don’t remember. I was spitballing. None of it stuck in my skull. All I know is I genuinely wanted her to feel better.

“You’ve never done or said anything to push me away,” I continued, and she looked up at me at that. Her eyes were red, tears pooling in them.

“I used you,” she sobbed. “Sophomore year. I told you all this bullshit about my sex life just to get off on talking dirty to you. You shouldn’t trust me.”

“V,” I said quietly.

She didn’t answer, staring at her knees.

“V, we all narrativize the past differently.”

“Are you seriously quoting our 101 prof right now?”

“Hundo cento, V. You need to hear it. I didn’t like your stories back then, but I don’t look back on them with anguish or anything. They helped me realize something important about myself, and now I just feel lucky we have the friendship we have. Don’t you?”

“I feel bad,” she said.

Barry hugged her tighter. “Listen to him, babe.”

“You’re not putting anything on me, V. You’ve been a courteous roommate. I want you to feel at home in your home; that’s why I said yes to you going nude. That’s why I said it was okay for Barry to not hide his erections. That’s why I said, well, I guess I didn’t say it, but clearly I’m okay with you going down on him in front of me.”

She nodded, sniffling.

I gestured to the bottle of massage oil on the coffee table. “We make each other feel good all the time. I love it, you know I do. I’m used to your bodies and your pleasure. I genuinely think it’s weirder to have you denying yourself and feeling bad than to just get your release. If you can feel really good and enjoy yourself, I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t mind watching her?” Barry asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m talking serious eye contact as we fuck.”

I imagined them fucking. The picture didn’t bother me. I was used to making Vivian feel good and didn’t see how her getting off on me watching her fuck was too big a leap. The thought didn’t disgust me—in fact, the opposite. I knew I enjoyed seeing Barry get off; seeing them both get there would surely be even better.

“I’m here all week,” I said.

Now if this were fiction, they might have fucked then and there. A lot of stories on this site go like that. Problems get resolved, and then the sex. It really doesn’t work like that, though. Does it? The moment was gone. Vivian wasn’t aroused anymore. She’d been through a rollercoaster of emotions. She was just tired.

“Let’s sleep on it,” she suggested, and then they went to bed, leaving me to contemplation.

#

I made pancakes in the morning. I wanted to do something a little overboard, to show my good will. I wasn’t upset. I bore no grudge. I wanted Vivian to see that, to feel okay with me, with herself.

It worked.

That night there was no hesitation, no apology. We’d barely been on the couch for five minutes when Vivian rolled onto her side, back to me, and began licking Barry’s cock.

We were still on our Queer Eye kick, and I watched as the Fab Five marched through some sad sack’s fire station snapping at the cupboards. The blowjob happening inches to my left was not particularly notable, at this point, and it didn’t really distract me from the TV.

Then something new happened.

Barry tapped me on the shoulder.

I snapped my head around to look at him. He was looking at me, urgency in his eyes. He pointed down. Vivian’s right hand was on his cock, angling it so she could bob her head on its tip. Her left hand was between her legs, fingers making a heady squelching sound as she played with her pussy.

I had yet to say anything *during* one of these encounters, and somehow it felt weird to start. I just kind of shrugged.

Watch her, he mouthed.

Sure, whatever. I paused the TV and sat back to get a better view of what was happening between her legs. Her lips were swollen and moist, and her fingers rolled them around, massaging the entire area.

With her back turned to me, she couldn’t know I was watching.

I took a leap.

“That looks good, V.”

She moaned on Barry’s cock and tensed up. She lifted her right leg, bending her knee, to give me a better vantage.

“Keep going,” said Barry. I wasn’t sure if he was saying it to her or to me. I decided it was both of us.

“You’re super wet,” I said.

I didn’t try to ham it up or feign sexual interest. I found I did enjoy the sight, and I was happy to see Vivian feeling good, but I wasn’t aroused. I just wanted to demonstrate my attentiveness.

It didn’t take much, apparently. She had a shuddering orgasm moments later with Barry’s cock lodged in her throat. I watched her hips flex, a light trickle of fluids escape her vulva.

She pulled off his cock, panting. It was bright red.

I know I’m doing a good job selling my dearth of experience, but listen. Not only have I had some sex, I jack off a considerable amount. I’ve tried edging myself. I know “achingly hard” when I see it.

“Was it good?” I asked, sending further shivers through Vivian.

Barry laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her cum like that, that fast. V? Are your words failing you?” He put a hand behind her head, stroked her neck. “If you don’t have anything to say, mind if I finish?”

He guided her back to his cock. She got on all fours, ass literally in my face. I found myself inspecting her crotch as she got Barry off. The hairs, the creases, the folds, the moisture. It was my first time seeing exposed pussy so up close and personal. It didn’t disgust me and, as you can tell from my descriptions, it clearly didn’t disinterest me.

“Fuck, V,” Barry groaned as he emptied his balls into her mouth.

These people were so pure and good, I thought to myself as they collapsed on the couch, recovering. They just love each other, and want to feel good together. We sat there wordlessly for almost half an hour as I contemplated my good fortune in finding these friends. I don’t know if they were thinking the same thing or if they were just lost in their pleasure. Whatever they were thinking, I was happy. They had put my comfort before these carnal needs, eased me into a situation where we could enjoy each other’s company while they still got their rocks off.

No one else in my life had been so sensitive in dealing with me, not my parents, not my college friends, not my high school friends, even the ones I’d fallen for and tried fucking.

You may have heard it said that respect is a powerful aphrodisiac.

It’s not so straightforward with me—there’s a few more steps—but like, there’s something to that, probably.

When Vivian finally met my gaze for the first time after her orgasm, I practically saw the heart-eye stickers pouring out of her. I thought back to my slip up in the falafel place. Love you too. Did I love her?

I mean, shit. What do you think?

#

I fully blame being demi for my cluelessness, which may seem almost pathological to you. I did not connect the dots for an inordinately long time. Another month passed, and it never really occurred to me to delve into the question of *why* Vivian wanted to show off for me.

This despite, like, more than daily episodes.

Vivian had maybe ten or eleven orgasms a week in front of me during this period. I can’t really give you honest sexy accounts of all these instances, because they weren’t all sexy for me. I mean, I watched, and I paid attention, and I noticed things, and I enjoyed her pleasure. But you know how you have that one friend who’s really into a hobby you’re not a part of, and thinks you want to hear about it? It was like that. Sometimes, you DO want to hear about it, because they’re your friend, and you genuinely care about their interests.

Along those lines, there were times I didn’t just put my eyes on her for her pleasure: there were times I wanted to watch her body, times I wanted to see her reactions to stimulation.

So yes, maybe the seeds of voyeurism were present, but I always narrativized it differently. Most often I would drink in the details of her body and her movements in the hopes of bringing the knowledge to bear in a future massage session.

She had fairly pronounced labia when she was aroused, and it was fascinating to watch her fingers disappear between them. She tended to shove more fingers in when I held her other hand, and she would grip my hand almost painfully as she came.

Her belly jiggled a little when she orgasmed, her body heaving. I decided early on that I liked that. There was something almost wholesome about seeing her tremble, seeing these intimate parts of her body move uncontrollably.

Sometimes she would cum before Barry. If he then came on her, somehow—on her chin, or between her breasts, or my favorite, pressed against her belly, spurting sideways and down her hip—she would almost always rub her clit to a second orgasm. This was usually a frantic affair, with her swearing as she ground her way to release.

She liked being eaten out, and Barry seemed to be quite good at it. Those were the calm nights, lying back on the couch together, my arm around her bare shoulders, both of us looking down at Barry between her legs, faithfully licking away. For him I’m sure there was a lot of attentiveness, switching up the speed and intensity. For me, though, and I think for Vivian, it was more of a lazy moment, just soaking in pleasure. She had the most muted orgasms from Barry’s head, but also the longest, and her body would become super sensitive in the aftermath. Brushing any part of her—even innocuous parts, like her forearms—would bring out shudders and moans.