Shelter From the Storm

I kissed Robby's chest, licked his nipples—that got a twitch out of Mister Dick!—and tongued my way down his flat belly. I stroked his trouser-snake with both hands, in and out of my mouth, licking around the head like eating soft ice cream. Sally had licked me in much the same pattern and I loved it, so I guess it feels good to anyone. Soon, he stiffened into readiness.

I took Sally's hand and sat her on him, impaling her on his dart, facing me. I knelt before them, licking the squirming junction of their sexes, tasting his juices carried by her flow, multiplying their pleasure.

With a grunt, Robby began humping like a madman. Sally cried out as if in pleasant pain, and the juicy white evidence of their love poured out around his shaft. I licked it all up.

We all slept in one bed, Robby in the middle. We awoke late. The clear morning sky was mocking our weakness with a brilliant crystal cold that cut to the bone. We exchanged addresses and promised to get together, soon. It was the usual lies strangers tell each other.

Next time I see Tom looking at a pretty girl, I'll ignore him. No, on second thought, I'll help him.