The Need For Weed


Weed had more orientation events today, so I should have the house to myself, starting with my stash downstairs. I heard the distant grumble of thunder and noticed the grey light of threatening summer rain.

Leaning back in my office chair ten minutes later, I exhaled again and shook my head in disbelief. Weed - adorable, wonderful Weed - had sucked my cock and offered much more. I saw her face as she slid a thin finger and my fresh cum inside her still-teenage little slit.

Normally, Eva's visits stimulated fantasies of the ex-roommates threeway that Carrie teased me with, and helped fuel our sexual banter. Now, even knowing the flirtatious object of those fantasies would be here soon, my mind wouldn't leave her daughter. I packed a second bowl in my glass pipe before the doorbell rang.

I headed upstairs. My loose shorts, with no underwear, would be fine to sign for a package or say no to a canvasser. No one else was expected. The bell rang again, insistent.

The third ring, as I reached for the deadbolt, was too much. Irritated, I swung the door open wide, heard a quiet, fervent, "Please be there. Please please."

"Weed?" Since she had her own key to the house, I didn't expect the young girl to ring the bell. Or to look this way.

"I got muddy."

"I can see that." The girl looked lankier than usual, sweatpants and formerly-white t-shirt clinging to her, soaked and filthy. "Tug O' War?"

She nodded, eyes down, after I remembered the school tradition. "I didn't want to get the carpet dirty. Can I go through the garage?"

"Good idea. Carrie's new carpet appreciates it." I saw Weed shiver; she seemed to almost wobble off balance. "Go on around. I'll open the door."

After pressing the button to raise the big garage door I hurried downstairs and started water running in the shower to let it warm. Back upstairs, I began speaking as I opened to door between the kitchen and garage. "I started the shower for..."

Weed balanced herself with one hand against the wall. She had already stripped off the t-shirt, leaving only a thin, spaghetti-strapped camisole, askew and stained, clinging to her top. The sweatpants tangled between her ankles, caught up on the muddy sneakers she still wore. With one knee bent, lifting a long, very bare leg, she needed the supporting hand as the raised foot stretched the pants upward but failed to slip free.

The wet camisole highlighted the tiny rounded cup of a breast and its proud, hard cap. It had ridden up enough to show most of her smooth belly, 'flat' in the sense of no bulging at all where it disappeared into her waistband, but without any truly flat places at all among a multitude of subtle curves. But a even an erect nipple in a wet shirt couldn't hold my attention from its target.

The waistband at the lower edge of Weed's lovely tummy topped a pair of tight, flowered boy-short panties. The top half of the thin, stretchy material was dry. It was the lower half that held me, speechless and spellbound.

Soaked, almost translucent, somehow the panties managed to cover a wide swath of space between slim thighs that seemed almost too far apart. With her leg straining up to escape her sweatpants, the gap between her legs looked wide enough for me to slip my hand four fingers-wide, up and against her. I could see a clear central dip cleaving the center of the space.

My mind saw my hand filling that space, my middle finger, the thickest and longest, pushing wet fabric deeper into the cleft.

I didn't move, until she stumbled after a more violent tug against the hobbling pants. Two steps and I caught her by an arm. Weed probably would have caught herself but she smiled, a little sheepish, and leaned into me. I was very aware of her skimpy wet top against my bare chest. "I'm stuck."

"I got muddy."

"You mentioned that."

"And a little drunk." Her lips had gotten closer to my neck to where I could feel her breath. She shivered again. Without thought, my arms went around her. "Mmm. Keep me warm."

I held her close for a slow breath, maybe two. "Let's get you out of these pants."

Not what I expected to be saying to a drunk girl this afternoon.

"Yeah. Get me outa these stupid pants."

I kneeled down to where I could work the wet heavy cotton over one sneaker. She had managed to get both shoes wedged inside the legs of the pants. When she stumbled again, almost falling over me, I settled on keeping one hand on her hip while I used the other to free her.

I didn't hurry, enjoying both Weed's inebriated giggles and the feel of her almost-nude body in my supporting hand, my palming the thin boy-shorts, my thumb stroking the bare skin of the lean valley above her hipbone.

"Aren't you too young to drink?"

"I was early. One of the frats had a pre-Tug O' War warm-up. They asked me to be part of their team."

"I'll bet they did."

"Hey. They're nice."

"And they want to make sure you stay nice and close when there's going to be wet, muddy action."

Even though she could balance better once I had freed the first foot, I kept my hand at her waist. The pants finally released their second prisoner and I stood. Weed's big eyes were level with mine and focused, inches away. Her hand found mine on her hip. "Do you like having me nice and close, when I'm dirty...and wet?"

"And drunk."


"Wobbly." I compromised. "And it's time to get wobbly girl into the shower."

She squealed when I scooped her up into my arms. "Can't let you muddy up the house."

Long arms wrapped around my neck as I carried her inside, down the stairs. She nuzzled in under my jaw, against my neck. I stopped to ease the bathroom door open with my foot, releasing a flood of steam. I felt a soft kiss on my neck, and a tongue's slow swirl inside it.

I carried her into the shower's spray, letting it hit us both with almost too-hot water. Weed's lips continued to nibble under my ear as we stood that way, her slim long frame in my arms. When my shorts were as soaked as hers I let my grip ease.

"Okay, drop your legs. Time to stand up on your own."

"Do I hafta? It feels good here." She nuzzled closer, holding tight around my neck. "Alright."

Weed made it a process. An intimate, slow process, dragging her wet body down against mine, keeping as much bare skin in contact as she could, both arms still behind my neck. When her feet reached the fiberglass floor of the shower, her bare toes rested on mine. Slick, wet legs and belly pushed against mine. I was stiff and hard and caught between us, pressed fast to her, unmistakable.

The tip of her nose brushed my own. "I like you."

"I like you too, Weed."

"No. I really like you a lot. I'm not sure I should tell you how much."

"Well, wait 'til you're sober and tell me then."

"Really?" Her smile was wide and bright. "I can tell you? I've been too nervous to."

Her arms wrapped lower, around my chest in a hug. "Thank you."

The strength of her reaction to being able to tell me started to make me nervous. She distracted me with a wriggling motion where our lower bodies met before pulling back enough to look down between us. My shorts tented out, pointing at her sopping boy-shorts and what they barely hid. "Does it hurt?"

I shrugged. "At first, but after enough foreplay most girls say they can take it."

Her head snapped up, mouth open. I watched realization dawn in her eyes, slowed by the alcohol. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." I needed to change the subject away from sex, especially with her current drunken boldness. "Are you ready to rinse off, muddy girl?"

I eased back out of her arms, leaving her alone in the spray. She pouted. "What? You don't like me when I get all dirty anymore? You liked it when I got all dirty and sucked your cock last night. It's okay. I'll rinse off for you."

She stood before me, a vision of a nymph under a cascading waterfall. Camisole and panties hid nothing, accentuated small parts into featured roles. Her breasts were tiny, rounded, perfect under sopping cotton more revealing than most swimwear. The darker ring surrounding each raised nipple was clear through the thin, clinging wet fabric. When my eyes returned to her face, I found a knowing grin. She knew how much I wanted her.

"I better soap up."

I hadn't even considered soap, suds, on her. It was time for me to leave her to her shower. Weed reached down for the bottle of liquid body soap. I reached for the sliding glass door.

"Woop!" Sober, she would have caught herself from the small slip. Drunk, the young girl over-compensated for the first slip of her foot, causing both feet to lose any traction on the slick fiberglass. I reacted, dropping down as I reached out, as soon as I saw her fall.

I caught her, one arm ending up between her legs, the other around her waist. It was a precarious position, leaning together against one tiled wall. "Are you okay?"

She scraped upper teeth over her lower lip before she answered with a slow forward grind of her crotch along the arm that held her. Slowly back. "Feels pretty good."

I ignored that. "Can you stand?"

She nodded. "If you hold me."

I sighed, eased us up to a vertical position. She spun, facing away from me and retrieved the soap. My hands fell to her slim hips. "Just keep me from falling. I can soap myself."

Weed applying lotion to her long legs was nothing like this. Now she was soaked, nearly naked, and letting soapy hands travel seemingly at random over her body. While I had to keep her upright.

At first she washed places with mud, places where my hands weren't. After squeezing out more body wash, both her hands made a quick swirl of suds over her belly before sliding up under her camisole. She leaned back against me, giving me a view over her shoulder of foaming suds massaged into twin tiny handfuls, her top pushed up and out of the way. Again, lower, I was trapped hard between us, this time with my rigid length separating her round little bottom.

I watched a hand leave one breast, my eyes caught on the abandoned nipple, dark above a sea of foamy flesh. The hand disappeared from sight, her arm stretching down. Her hips in my hands, her motion against me, told me where her hand had found itself, what it was now soaping. Weed's moan near my ear confirmed it.

The second breast was soon abandoned. A hand traced down her side, spreading soap over her hip. I allowed it to knock my hold on her aside, and lightly moved my supporting grip to her arm. It was only a moment before she brushed my hand aside again. I returned it to her hip as she giggled.

Soon, both slim hands, ostensibly soaping her body, were busy chasing mine off of her, so they could land elsewhere on her. As the giggling increased, so did her motion against me, grinding back, raising and lowering along my length.

I moved a chased hand up again to where I could settle it on her upper arm. Weed twisted. My hand cupped full over a breast, and was immediately covered by her own hand, squeezing. The nipple was a pebble in the center of my palm.

"Oops." She twisted back, smiling. Her hand pushed mine back to her hip. "Hold me. I need to take these off."

She pulled the camisole over her head in a quick motion before bending forward almost double. I held her waist on both hands, pinning her now to me. I suppressed a groan at the sight of her bent over, the long expanse of sleek smooth naked back, and the feeling as I pressed deeper, lower, into the hollow where her bottom ended.

"Give me a little room." She wiggled on me, her fingers slipping under her waistband. I eased back. In a instant, the sopping panties were down around her ankles. She slipped them free of feet still in soaked sneakers. The shoes were now all she wore. I groaned again, pressing close once more, my hands gripping.

"Hey. This is a shower, remember?" Her lilting tone was a playful tease. She stood and twisted to face me. "I think I have the mud off, now I just need to finish up."

More soap, and her hand again plunged between her legs, scrubbing. Her other hand produced a razor. "Keep me steady."

She leaned against the tiles, to stabilize herself. Still, I kept my hands on her naked body. I watched as she first shaved down the thin shadow of hairs above her slit.

And watched, awestruck and silent, when she brought one foot up to brace on the far wall. She was open and on display, fingers performing a familiar dance as she held herself stretched wide and smooth for shaving on one side, then the other. She worked as much by feel as by sight, adding soap as needed.

After a final rinse, Weed slid one hand between her thighs, feeling carefully. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Her inspection seemed very thorough. I could hear the rapid beat in my arteries even over the water's spray. "Feels smooth to me. Now you check."

My face must have shown shock at least, because she laughed at my reaction. "What? I just want to make sure I'm nice and smooth. I might just end up someone's birthday present, ya know."

Her fingers entwined with mine, dragged the hand down. I have never felt anything smoother. "That's it. Make sure I didn't miss anywhere. Yes. Check it all."

Once I gave in, once I was touching her there, the purpose didn't matter. I was still exploring, slowly tracing finger tips over every spot that might have possibly seen a hair, when she leaned into me. I felt a vibration of rising tension coming from her before the first bigger tremor, shudder of nervous energy.

"Yessss." She encouraged the one finger, again the middle one, that traveled in a long soft passage the length of her central opening.

"I'm not finding any hairs you missed."

"Keep checking." Slim fingers gripped my wrist, held it low against her. Swollen, tender lips parted at the next stoking touch. My finger eased a small ways inside. The shudder that answered was deeper.

An arm encircled my neck. Her lips found my jaw, kissing at my own rough razor stubble. I pushed in.

"That's it. Check there."

I held her to me with my free arm snug around her waist. The rapid subtle vibration and the deeper, periodic shudders became one and the same as my touch deepened. I was making no pretense of checking her shaving prowess. I was no longer teasing along her folds. I held her to me and fucked her with my fingers. First, the middle one. Then, its index companion, curving up and into her together, massaging, retreating, retaking.

Weed made no more sounds that could be called words, until after the shuddering shakes rose to a writhing climax. She cried out as she released, after a series of more and more anxious mewling sounds announced my second finger joining the first inside, then their inward massage accompanied by outward circles of my thumb over a sensitive nubbin just above.

I held her there, truly supporting her now, my fingers squeezed by a series of deep contractions. I held her close to me, my arm tight around her waist, the water spraying down on us. I held her until the shaking stopped.

Not sure how much effect the alcohol still had, I wrapped Weed in a large towel and used it to both dry her and hold her upright. Then I scooped her into my arms again and deposited her on the bed. Her eyes were closed when her head hit the pillow; face like a content angel. I left her there to sleep.


Not long after, I must have nodded off on the couch in the living room. I awoke to Carrie and Eva's voices, and the jarring sounds of keys and doors. Both hopping onto the couch, they made me the center of their threeway hug. Wrapping my arms around both reinforced the difference in their height, even seated.

They were both laughing and interrupting each other, and it took several minutes for them to tell their adventure of the trip, when they encountered a group of drenched, bedraggled and disappointed attendees leaving the annual Nude Day event at a park outside town.

'Officially' Nude Day is in July, but local organizers had hoped that the view would improve if they scheduled their celebration when college students were more abundant. The sudden rain, lightning, and unseasonable chill had ruined nudist plans.

"The weirdest thing was the hair." Eva's face was animated with excitement. I could feel a full breast against my side and one slim calf rested over my lower leg. "Too much, or none at all."

"Either bald or dreadlocks?"

"No, silly." Eva snuggled in closer. My wife followed suit from her side. "Well...kind of."

"She means pubes." I jumped at Weed's voice. "And maybe armpits."

"Baby!" Eva used a hand high on my thigh to push herself up. It only lingered an instant longer than necessary before she dragged long fingers toward my knee, then turned to wrap her approaching daughter in a hug. Weed's bare feet and lower legs showed below her bathrobe. Eva wore a light flowing dress, probably silk, that ended just above the knee. "Why aren't you dressed?"

Weed looked like Carrie and Eva's loud entrance had woken her up too. I sympathized, because I knew she might be a little hungover. "I got muddy. We had to do this Tug O' War and..."

"Tug O' War!" The former roommates sang it out in unison.

" I needed to take a shower. I was filthy dirty and soaking wet." Weed's eyes flashed over her mother's shoulder at me.

"A shower. Carrie, didn't I say I needed a long steamy shower after that flight? And our nudist friends reminded me it's time to clean up a little down there too. I'm not to the dreads stage yet but it's close."

Yeah, right." Carrie had always called Eva on her BS, where most people gave the glamorous woman a pass. This time her knowledge surprised me. "You've got a cute little landing strip."

"What?" My wife reacted to my surprise with a shrug. "Changing rooms. Trying on clothes. You see things. She used to have a heart carved in."

Carrie sat up. She managed to drag her fingers in a pretty good imitation of Eva's tease down my other thigh before heading toward the kitchen. "I'll get a bottle of wine, and some extra towels. I'll take the tub; you can have the shower and steam."

Weed made a face at me, somewhere between amusement and disgust. The two friends had been more than casual about nudity with each other since their days as roommates. Eva finally released her daughter, with a final kiss on the cheek. The younger of the two tall beauties flopped down in the recliner, opposite the couch.

"Careful in that robe, baby girl." Eva flipped the hem corner back over exposed leg. "It's easy to show more than you intend."

"Thank you, Mother." Eva had turned and didn't see the eye-roll.

Eva dropped back down next to me. The slit in her dress showed much more leg than her daughter's robe had. A wedge of bronze skin ran more than half way up a long, slender thigh. A whiff of her scent, almost musky and promising entrancement, hit me when her head tilted close to rest on my shoulder. "Do you want me to keep the landing strip, or go full pool ball?"

She had teased me like this for too many years for me to be overly surprised. "And this is my decision because...?"

"When you finally get around to putting your collar on me and keeping me chained in the basement as a love slave, I don't want to displease you." I had twisted to look at Eva when I asked the question and now I saw her face, her eyes, transform into the soft doey innocence of a naive schoolgirl for an instant. Then laughter burst forth, almost too enthusiastic, as Carrie called from the kitchen.

"Are you seducing my husband again, you hussy? I thought you were going to get naked and steamy with me." The petite blond appeared, with an open bottle and two glasses. This time, when Eva stood, her hand started higher on my thigh and stayed there. It forced her to bend at the waist, the silk dress molding down along the sway of long lean back and over a Capitol-B hind end. A final push on my thigh brought her up to full height.

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byKethandra© 32 comments/ 217223 views/ 227 favorites

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