Tell You All About It

Freya split her thighs and straddled his stomach, her soft and well-used flesh tingling against his skin. Her hands fisted in the sheets on either side of his head as she held herself over him, muscles gently trembling with building passion. His name escaped her lips on another sigh.

Freya rocked her pussy against Shaw's lower abdomen, enjoying the light, springy hairs there. She grinned, leaning down to feed him her nipples, loving how he closed his eyes, cupped her breasts and suckled her. His pulling suction echoed in her cunt and she glided up to press her clit to his belly button.

"Oh, fuck yes," Shaw mumbled against her skin, for the searing heat of her sex spreading over his stomach, penetrating his umbilicus, made his head spin.

Freya grinned, rolling her hips in a circle around his dented flesh. "Oh, you like that, do you?" she taunted.

Shaw nodded against her skin, pulling her nipple between his teeth as his hands moved down to her ass, cupping her and guiding her to wriggle up as he slid further down the couch.

"There's something I'd like more, though," he growled.

She laughed at their rocking and wrestling movements, her thighs splitting wider across his broad chest. Shaw laughed beneath her, slapped her right ass cheek and pushed her onward and upward, tilting his head and allowing his chin to whisper against her labia. She sucked in a breath, bracing. Waiting.

"Now," he murmured, laughter dying on his lips. "Get up here and feed me that cunt."

* * * *

For Ethan, time slouched by. He felt as though he was missing a limb. He hadn't seen Freya in almost two weeks. He hadn't heard from her -- well, not since hearing her (and yes, you know he squirmed every time he recalled that audio grab) -- in days.

He toggled between screens -- he was currently designing a minimalist wedding invitation for Geneviève and Asher, and updating design and content on a client's website -- distracting himself with the mundane tasks. In the background, keys tapped, phones rang, and papers shuffled.

His eyes flickered to his phone, charging on his desk. Would she cancel their brunch date again? He was torn. If she did, he'd know why. And he just loved imagining the why. But if she didn't... Ethan squirmed in his seat.

Would it happen again?

Ethan licked his lips, typed text, layered it into the design, adjusted and cropped, fiddled really, putting off going home, where his imagination would be far too active.

He jerked in his seat when his phone chimed, and his heart lurched into his throat. He took a steadying breath before picking up his phone.

F: swing by after work. at home. cooked your fave 

Ethan's heart trebled its rhythm, making his toes curl in his boots.

He hastily saved his work, made notes, updated his clients before closing down for the day. He waved to colleagues, relaxed smile belying his thrumming pulse, calling out farewells as his mind raced forward the twenty-three minutes it would take him to ride to Freya's home.

Leaving his bike on Freya's tiny front porch, he rapped her door twice before turning the knob.

"Freya?" he called down the hall. "It's me."

"In the kitchen!" came her reply.

Ethan blushed as he moved through her home, remembering the last time he was here and what he'd heard. Freya sat at her kitchen island, a bottle of red open, her lips already blushing merlot. She grinned at Ethan and reached over to pour a second glass.

"Hey, friend. Long time, no see. Sorry about that." Freya smiled in a way that made the tips of Ethan's ears pink. He smiled and took a long sip of wine before speaking.

"Uh, yeah," Ethan said, clearing his throat between syllables as he sat. "Figured you and Shaw..." He tried to smile, but only managed to look nervous.

Excited.

Freya pondered his body language over another sip of wine before she pushed away from the island, over to the sink to take her pipe and stash of weed from the windowsill. She cracked the window open before packing some herb into the glass cone and bringing it to her lips. The dry leaf hissed and fizzed under the flame, and she sucked in a large lungful of courage.

She knew what she wanted to do.

Her cuntwalls collapsed with need before firming up, gripping the remnants of Shaw's seed still warm and fresh inside her.

Freya exhaled the smoke, head swimming, pussy already tingling in anticipation. She closed the window with a snap and turned to face Ethan, her eyes feline bright with knowing. She liked the way she felt seeing her friend blush.

"So," Ethan squirmed, heartrate accelerated, fingertips pulsing. "I don't smell or see any ragu. You lured me here with my favourite." He tried to chuckle, but it was a somewhat jerky "ha-ha". He frowned and whetting his very nervous throat with wine.

Freya slunk back to the kitchen island, took another sip of her own wine, her heart beating thick with addled desire, with a sense of power; a new version of herself she desperately wanted to know. She set her glass aside before pushing herself onto the counter top, lifting the hem of her over-sized t-shirt dress. Freya spread supple thighs, left her feet dangling, and exposed her munted pussy to Ethan.

"I thought this was your favourite," she whispered softly, cunt pulsing round Shaw's oozing semen, so recently -- and deliberately -- deposited.

Ethan's eyes widened, all but boggled, taking in the kaleidoscope of colour between Frey's legs. The trimmed golden thatch atop her mound, her slick and swollen vulva, a riot of reds and pinks and light purples, her labia dark with desire, and Shaw's come a fine honeyed-cream leaking from her depths.

Managing, finally, to tear his eyes from her sex, Ethan's gaze travelled up her body, over her heaving stomach, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, her nipples hard against the fabric of her dress, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with need.

She'd never looked at him quite like this.

But Ethan knew he didn't want her to stop.

Like a man starving, he fell into her lap, mouth latching onto her cunt, making her cry out in surprise.

He puckered his lips against her gaping hole, sucking in the depravity of her darkest desires, binding himself to her with his love of the aftertaste.

"Oh, fuck, Ethan," Freya gasped, her breath catching at the back of her throat, her left hand anchoring back on the countertop, her right fisting in Ethan's dark hair, pulling his face harder into her flesh, making him groan.

"You've been thinking about this for weeks," she panted. "Haven't you?"

Ethan uh-hummed his agreement into her flesh, sending her nerve endings into a fizz under his vocals. His tastebuds felt a'fizz under her gyrations, her hole pulsing under his tongue, his saliva emulsifying to a thickened cream with Shaw's come. Ethan's eyes rolled back in pleasure as he swallowed and continued his feast.

"Wanting desperately to clean up his dark alley slut," she continued, face pinching as Ethan's lips wrapped around her sensitive clitoris and suckled, his tongue curling under to extend her from beneath her hood.

Pale green eyes greedily absorbed her expressive responses to his touch. Her folds were so soft, so smooth, so silken under his tongue. The fact that her sex was still warm from Shaw's touch only enhanced her textures, her shape, her flavour. She felt like heaven on his tongue. And she looked like a goddess before him.

Ethan kissed her with his entire body, his shoulders angling to wedge her legs wider. He stood, the metallic scraping of the stool lost beneath Freya's intensifying moans. It toppled unnoticed as Ethan hunched over his best friend, ravenously eating her.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight. This might be his only chance.

With that thought, Ethan growled, eyes closing as he settled into his task, stabbing his tongue into her pliant hole. His head swum with the sensation, with her response: sucked in and tight.

"Oh, fuck, Ethan," she moaned, and Ethan's cock strained in his pants at his name on her lips. He reluctantly released her right buttock to adjust himself, squeeze his thighs together before pushing her right flank back, lifting his face only to look down in awe before covering her gash in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss.

"Oh fuck, yes!" Freya cried, both hands now fisted in Ethan's hair, holding him hard against her sex. "Oh fuck. Shaw said you'd be like this. Fucking whore. Eat me!"

Her demands, her guttural aggression, the fact that she'd talked to Shaw about this, made Ethan's left knee buckle. He moaned his embarrassed excitement into her flesh, rutting her gash with his face, nose firm against her clit, lips, tongue and chin also pressing as though he would crawl inside her.

He wouldn't stop, not with the seductive beat her cunt pounded against his open mouth.

Ethan squeezed his thighs together in tandem to her frantic beat, the tightening between his legs, the surge swelling behind his pubic bone, was growing unbearable. He could feel warmth spreading at the front of his briefs and knew he was leaking, unable to contain his excitement.

And the thought that Freya could make him come without even touching him made Ethan's heart skip a beat.

"Please," he whispered against her flesh, his lips still making light contact.

Freya lewdly pulled Ethan's face away from her, her pussy contracting at the sudden cool air after blooming under the drenching heat of Ethan's mouth.

"Ple-" she panted, "please what?"

Spittle glistened on Ethan's bottom lip, and his face froze, almost dumbfounded. Didn't she know? his mind screamed. Couldn't she tell?

A sly Cheshire cat smile spread across Freya's features, the submissive in her reading so easily the submissive in him. She tensed her thighs at his shoulders, effectively barring him from her swollen folds until he articulated exactly what he wanted.

He rubbed his lips together, red not from wine but from her, eyes raking up her supple body before locking on her face. "I want you to come in my mouth, Freya. I want it so bad."

"I know you do, baby," she crooned, fingertips trailing down his moist cheek. Some detached, observant part of her mind wondered where that voice came from, that touch. "I know what you desperately want."

Ethan swallowed hard, tasted Freya. "And what's that?"

Freya rolled her tongue along her bottom lip and smiled. "You want to fuck me with your tongue knowing how Shaw's fucked me with his cock. You want to feel the way he stretched my cunt, owned me. You want to suck me dry while you mind focuses not only on me. But on him, too."

"Oh, fuck, yes," Ethan moaned, descending upon her once again, but this time, Freya bucked her hips up, meeting him hard halfway. And in his mind's eye, Ethan saw her thrusting her hips up to Shaw's piercing thrusts - he felt the gaping evidence - saw their primal lust, heard him striking her flesh and calling her Yaya.

He relished her vigorous lifting and pushing; the way her ass clenched beneath his hands when his lips and tongue journeyed over a particularly sensitive spot. His cock strained inside his pants, and without a thought he cupped himself outside the thick material, needing some pressure to fuck against.

"That's it," she panted, hand once again fisted at the back of his neck. "That's it. Fuck that cunt, whore. Tongue me as hard as my bull fucks me."

Suddenly, Ethan pulled back against her strong hold, eyes feral and hot. He slapped her pussy, once, hard - where the fuck had that come from? - making her cry out. With a smile that matched his eyes, he wriggled his jaw before rutting his mouth through her folds, drowning in her nectar, suckling her labia through his lips. Ethan yawned his mouth wide, preparing to drink and feast as she fell from the peak.

"Come with me," she panted, nails digging into his scalp. "Come with me."

On a choked moan, Ethan released Freya's thighs, mouth following her hips' descent as he hastily unbuckled his pants and lowered the fly. He tugged his cock free, sighing his relief into Freya's molten lava, making her squeal with the sensation.

He palmed his cock and balls in his left hand, his right arm curling around her ass and thighs, bridging her back up to his mouth. He jerked his own hips how, fucking his palm as he panted and groaned his pleasure against the cunt he had coveted most of his life.

Freya's tingling flesh quickened and fluttered. Her juices trebled, and Ethan pursed his lips over her hole to slurp her in abundance.

"Oh fuck!" she cried out as she finally released her pelvic floor, flooding Ethan's face with her sex, thighs trembling at the effort to hold herself up. Her entire body tightened, convulsed before she began to lewdly rocked her hips, extending her orgasmic high, holding the back of Ethan's neck, squeezing.

Ethan's breath caught, sex dripping at the back of his throat, before it released on a strangled groan, his palm filling with sticky, messy heat, his tongue lashing at her folds, soft as butter beneath his breath. Her sex and his merged in his mind, the sticky slick feel of them, in both his palm and in mouth.

"Yes, yes, yes," she panted, breath almost gurgling as she came again, rewarding him with fresh sex. Overwhelmed, physically and mentally drained, Freya fell back on the countertop, her body a writhing mass of sensation, while Ethan continued to rub his come against his sensitive sac and shaft.

He felt Freya gently push his head, and he turned to kiss her inner thigh, tongue snaking out to savour the taste of her sex mingled sweat at the cease. Still cupping and massaging heat into his skin, Ethan kissed her mons, his lips numb above the trimmed hairs.

Her hand groped down, the movement blind and drunk, before making contact. Her fingertips slid over his hair, down the curve of his shoulder to squeeze in a friendly gesture.

"Mmmm," she hummed, eyes half mast, a satisfied, secret smile playing on her lips.

Ethan hastily tucked himself away, hissing slightly before rubbing his hand on his thigh. He straightened, moaning as muscles released after having crouched so long in this position. He rubbed his hands up and down Frey's shins, searching her face for any sign of regret.

But she merely lay there. Glowing.

"Freya?" he finally whispered, when the silence had stretched to maddening.

"Hmmm?"

"Ah, so, um..." he trailed off, completely at a loss. He pulled her shirt down to cover the glistening gem that was now her sex, and dragged the remaining barstool over to sit.

Understanding that her friend's mind needing easing, Freya pushed herself up, brought her thighs together and pressed her lips together as her pussy continued to ache in glory.

"Hey," she said gently. "That was great. Exactly what I wanted."

Ethan lifted his gaze to hers, green eyes brighter now. "Really?"

Freya grinned and grasped Ethan's hand. "Really, really. I said I'd tell you all about it, didn't I?"

Ethan's features shifted with his responding smile. "And next time, too, I hope."

He had the pleasure of seeing shock blanket Freya's face before she recovered and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"Oh, most definitely," she said, picking up her wine, lifting it in toast to her very best, most best good friend.

The End.