The Need For Weed


Eva turned to her daughter before following Carrie. "You didn't hear that, right, innocent daughter?"

"I didn't hear anything, and what I did hear, I couldn't understand at all. Complete gibberish with no point of reference in my universe."

"Good girl."

Weed and I sat in silence looking at each other until we heard the water begin to run.

She raised an arched brow. "A chained-up love slave? Kinky. I mean, you've kept me drugged in the basement, but not tied up or anything. Yet."

With slow, deliberate motions, fingers tugged open the belt of her robe. She leaned back and let both sides fall away, exposing herself to me. She wore nothing under the robe. Endless legs vanished into a shadowy cleft that I knew well was as smooth and hairless as a razor could make it. Above, a soft, lean stomach ending in the arching curve of her ribcage which was in turn punctuated by twin nipples. They crinkled in, hardening and standing out from her chest as I watched.

"Whadda ya think? Would I look better in a collar?"

"Weed, you're perfect. There is not a single square inch of you that would be improved by being covered up."

"My god, that's so sweet. I think you really mean it." She looked genuinely touched. "So you don't want to make me your love slave and keep me in chains?"

"It has its upsides, I guess. What do you think?" I had learned when a girl turned a conversation to the kinky, it was best to let her tell me her opinion first.

"I don't think I want to be tied up. Not for real. I couldn't stop you from doing whatever you wanted to me." She trailed fingertips down her belly, slipped them between her thighs as he knees opened a little wider. "To my exposed, helpless, naked body."

I watched a single long finger disappear inside her. She bit down on her lip, eyes rolling up, exaggerating. "No, I wouldn't like that at all. Don't. Stop. Please don't."

"Weed. If you don't stop, I might not be able to. You got to cum today."

Her eyes widened, the finger stopping its slow pistoning. "You didn't? Oh my god, does it hurt?"

We both laughed at that question, asked twice today. She sat up, pulling the robe loosely around her. Both nipples were hidden, but barely. "You were so hard in the shower, I was worried about you. And then my mom teasing you like that. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

She pulled the robe closer.

"Weed, it's okay. I'm horny as hell, and the next load of cum I shoot is going to be huge, but I neither need nor want any apologies from you. You have no idea how delightful it has been to even catch glimpses of your sexy body, let alone the rest of what you've shared. You honor me."

Weed was blushing. She stuttered. "I should go ...ah, th-thank you....before they're done. I should go. Go get dressed. I should really..."

She almost jumped out of the chair, suddenly a nervous fawn. I thought about grabbing her hand as she fled the room. The nearest hand was the one with a finger that would be covered with her juices. I still hadn't tasted her. If I grabbed that hand I would want to suck her finger clean.

If I got a taste of her, I would want more, need more, and I knew the source was smooth, bare, and unprotected under a simple robe.

I didn't grab her hand. I let her flee. My head tilted back on the couch enough to see the ceiling. I sighed and wondered if I could relax, get my mind off my maddening need to finish what Weed and I had started. I had no idea what finishing it would even mean, couldn't imagine that having her, taking her completely, would make me somehow want her less. My thoughts continued to circle around her, swirling with images of the last few days. Images distracting enough that I hardly gave any attention to the thought of my wife and her striking friend, bathing, drinking wine, naked as intimate parts were groomed.

"Where'd she go?" I jumped, attention torn back to the present.

Eva stood, hands on hips. The robe she wore made a mockery of her warning to her daughter. It covered less than half of Carrie's thighs. A soft plush pink, the borrowed robe concealed the tops of Eva's thighs, but so much long leg was showing it must have been a near thing.

Higher, the light pink showed two small dark shadows, each a centerpiece on its own full, mounded softness. The tall buxom tease began to play with the hem, with the corner in the front that could be no more than inches from exposing her shaving choice. Landing strip or shorn clean, my imagination filled in a rapid series of possible visuals.

I must have been staring, because I didn't see or hear my wife approach. Not until toned, feminine arms slipped low around Eva from behind. Carrie's two hands covered Eva's one, at the center of my focus. "Good thing my husband isn't a cat. That much curiosity on one face could kill. I can't believe you actually wore this down here, you skinny slut."

"I couldn't resist. And his face makes it all worthwhile."

My wife agreed. "Who could resist that eager face? Or...this?"

At 'this' Carrie flipped up both sides of the pink robe Eva wore. The corners were held aside for much less than a second. An instant. And plenty of time to see the complete absence of any hair - landing strip, dreadlocks, heart or otherwise. To see pink robe through a gap between long, lean thighs.

The taller woman gasped, spun out of Carrie's grip. Giggling, she grabbed my wife and tugged her longer, thicker robe aside.

It was my turn to gasp. Carrie jerked away, covering up. "You bitch! That was supposed to be a birthday surprise."

What I had seen was a fantasy come true. Carrie had trimmed her own hair down. Cut short, she had shaved in three stacked chevrons - like tiny sergeant's bars pointing up toward her navel, and apparently dyed them black. It was a reference to a favorite, sexy old comic character. Now she looked shy, clapping her robe too tight around herself.

Eva's arms were crossed, pushing her chest up and out. She tapped a bare foot as she looked at me.

"What?" She looked like something was expected of me.

"Well?" Her tone implied she agreed, but I had no idea what the expectation was. I said nothing.

"Whose is prettier?"

"Eva!" In my head, I thanked my wife for saving me from coming up with an answer. "You know mine is. Anything else he might say is just being nice to a guest. Polite. Right, honey?"

I'd thanked her to soon. At least she had told me how to answer. "Right."

"Right what: mine is obviously the more lovely coochie, or right you'd be polite and not upset our guest who is obviously so insecure about her appearance?"

Damn. "I would, of course, always strive to be polite to our guests, while finding it hard to believe that yours - even before those beautiful little adornments were shaved in - would ever be in the presence of one lovelier. So I guess it would be for the best, if my expert judging skills are required, to allow for a more prolonged and thorough display before I render any decision."

"Ha!" Weed barked out the laugh, leaning against the arched entry to the kitchen. "You two thought you had him cornered. The birthday boy turned it around."

Carrie looked at me. "Skinny bitch with the tits already ruined my birthday surprise. Now I have to come up with something good for tomorrow. Ya wanna look some more before your sure? Maybe we could have a special birthday beauty pageant. How good a look do you need?"

"Look?" Weed was laughing as she said it. "If you two are going have a tastiest taco contest, he's gonna wanna do more than just look."

I was a corked bottle in a stormy sea, battered this way and that. I stayed silent, praying the waves merely tossed me onto another cresting swell and not onto rocks.

Weed went on. "And it will have to stay a two way contest. I know my entrance would make it the best birthday present ever -" she looked at me with a smile as she said it - "but it would just leave you two cougars competing for the silver medal."

"Cougars!" Both roommates turned on Weed. Eva went on. "And how much does my innocent daughter know about taco tasting, huh?"

It was more reflex than plan, but I knew what I needed right then. After the teasing, the flashing, a muddy shower and a young beauty clenching in climax around my fingers, I needed it bad. "Carrie. We should let mother and daughter talk about these things alone. And I have something I wanted to show you. Come upstairs for a minute."

It sounded so reasonable. I felt as though someone else was speaking through me, doing the job for me. My wife followed as I took her hand and led her up the stairs. I kicked the bedroom door closed. Carrie turned, puzzled. "What did you want to show..."

"This." I spun her in place, to face the large mirror. I pulled her robe open, my eyes immediately going to new, dark chevrons. My hands guided the robe to the floor and my wife to the bed, on her back. Her face was flushed red, her eyes bright. I shoved down my shorts.

"Damn, boy!" She watched the stiff bounce when I cleared the elastic band. "Has somebody been teased too much?"

I nodded slow agreement. Carrie saw something of what I felt and responded. My need aroused her. Maybe a reddening flush of the skin; I can't swear I saw a measurable dilation of her eyes; her lips opened, showing the merest white of teeth; her legs eased wider. All subtle signs, but simultaneous in their occurrence, they said 'I am yours. Fuck me.'

Soon, I would bury my face between those legs and stay for a while. Enjoying the view, the loving effort that went into creating it, and just below, the wonderfully responsive key to sending my sexy wife into a series of explosive climaxes. Soon, but not now.

Grabbing her hips, I lifted and turned her over, kneeled between her legs. She cried out when a freshly licked finger slid up against her from behind. My fingertip found a matching slickness there. I could have pushed in, but continued up. Carrie followed, her round, firm ass, rising with my hand.

Now I tasted her, licking deep, sucking, licking deeper yet, the new chevrony out of sight. Carrie squirmed, but maintained her position, middle up, one side of her head pressed hard into the mattress. I sat back up on my heels before aiming myself against her.

Carrie pushed back, trying to take me in. "Good girl."

Instead, I dragged the taut head down. Down and under, a passing massage over a hooded, hidden nexus. A soft moan, barely audible, rose into a near-scream cut off short. I brought the head back up to center, to sink a little in between moistening lips. "Now, good girl. Push."

I'm not sure which of us enjoyed this more. Watching, feeling, experiencing Carrie impale herself on me, on her knees, head down, seeing the palpable tension build in her as she forced me inside her, never failed to seize my whole attention.

It took five, six pushes back and the cries that marked each. It took my encouraging hands and whispers and all my force of will to hold my own hips still despite her unspoken ardent invitation to meet her with thrusts of my own, grabbing hard around her waist and yanking her onto me. It took her close to her first climax as the last push sank me fully within.

But this wasn't about building up tensions in my wife, or releasing them. This was about release of a different order. I had to fuck, I had to get off, right now. My hands found her petite athlete's hips. I pinned her to me, pinned myself inside her, grinding. I mimicked her actions: holding still, I pulled her off, letting my shaft ease out until only the head was hidden. Carrie let my hands control her body. I pulled her back until I was seated deep inside again.

Then I lost control. I pulled back, slammed hard into her. I heaved into her while yanking her back to meet each thrust. Carrie howled before she grabbed a fistful of sheets, biting down to silence herself. Out of the cage I had been straining to hold shut, the animal let loose, thrusting again and again.

I knew I wouldn't, did not want to, last long. A growing straining tightness expanded down my spine. From behind my eyes, tightening my nape, then descending until it reached my core. I looked up at the large mirror, knowing the sight of Carrie in this position, taking my pounding thrusts, would push me over the precipice.

It did. But I also saw something else in the mirror. As my body released, as I pumped my first blast inside of my wife, I saw a flash of pink though the narrow gap of the door. I had kicked it closed, but never checked to see if it latched. Above the pink, Eva's eyes found mine as I emptied myself in her best friend. If anything, knowing we were being watched only increased the force of my release. Then the pink was gone from the doorway.

When we returned downstairs, mother and daughter both failed at holding back knowing grins. The teasing, mainly from Eva, continued throughout dinner and the evening. The soft brush of a full breast on my arm. A hand on my thigh. And, of course, the conversation. But it all stayed short of any more flashing of intimate parts. The subject of my judging any freshly-trimmed areas didn't come up again, and I wasn't going to be the one to broach it.

I turned in early, worn out, while the women continued to talk and drink wine.


Later, in pitch black, I awoke with my naked wife snuggling against me. I was stiff again. Carrie felt it.

"Really?" Her hand pumped a slow rhythm up my shaft, her voice thick with sleep. "You really want her, don't you? I saw the way she flirts with my husband, the too-tall slut. Your probably thinking of tomorrow and seeing that smooth bare puss again. Yeah, you do like that."

The pumping hand began to move with more enthusiasm. I groaned, pushing my hips up into the pleasure. I hadn't realized she had seen Weed's flirting, between her own drinking and Eva's over-the-top attention.

Carrie snuggled closer, kissed my bare shoulder. She yawned. "What time is it, horny husband?"

I twisted enough to see my alarm clock. "12:32."

"Mmm." She kissed again. "Happy birthday."

We were both silent. The hand continued its steady stroking. Looking past the dark ceiling, I kept seeing the deep arch in Weed's slim body, soaked under the shower's spray, clenched in tension around my fingers, crying out, lost in her release.

"Do you want your present early?" She sounded half-asleep. And a little drunk.

"Depends. What's my present?"

"Besides having three nude beauties on display?"

"If you want to start that early, I'm okay with that." I wondered if the girls had discussed the contest after I left for bed. Three? That meant my wife was onboard with my inspecting both mother and daughter.

She squeezed my shaft directly under the head. "I mean your extra present, from me, for being such a good sport this week."

"And I can have it right now?"

Carrie giggled in the dark. "As long as she's agreeable. And I think she will be. Probably lying in bed thinking of this nice fat cock right now."


My wife laughed again. "It's okay. I can tell how much she wants you. And I know you want to fuck her. Who wouldn't?"

Her hand slid up over my head, pumping a slick leak from the tip. Her fingers spread it down, massaging slippery circles under the raised, tender ridge. She had to feel the shudder pass though my body as I drew in a deep breath, too stunned and aroused to trust my voice.

"It's okay." She repeated. Another kiss lingered on my shoulder. Frictionless finger circled. "Go fuck her. Take the skinny slut. Fill her up with your seed for me. You know she wants it."

I twisted toward my wife in the bed. I could hear her shallow, rapid breathing. Her second hand found my balls, stroking me below her first circling, pumping one. "Are you serious?"

It was too dark to see her, but my eyes still struggled to find her, find confirmation for her words in her face. Instead, her lips found mine, opened to force a hungry tongue past my teeth. She pulled back. "Yes. Happy birthday, baby. Go. Go fuck her for me."

I kissed the invisible mouth, both our tongues frantic. I could taste a hint of the alcohol. Then her hand was on my naked chest, pushing. "Go. Before I get jealous and change my mind."

I stood, pulling on my pajama pants. My hard-on tented them out. "I love you."

"You better." Her voice was already even sleepier, but I could still hear her satisfied smile.

I had permission. Weed had told me I needed it before she would let me fuck that incredible, slim young body, feel it explode in rapture squeezing around my cock. Now I had what I needed, to get the Weed I craved.

I padded silently past the guest room door, where Weed's mother slept. If she heard footsteps and decided to see who was awake at this hour, it could ruin everything. Still, I couldn't help picturing Eva's body, naked under the covers, her soft, full breasts that she had pressed against me so often last night, exposed and ripe to squeeze. I needed no lights to find my way through the kitchen and down the basement stairs.

"Weed?" I whispered it as I eased open the door to my studio-office, now the young beauty's temporary bedroom.

I started when a metallic sound broke the silence. Orange light sparked out of the pitch dark, a couple feet above the low bed. A lighter, and a flash of high cheekbones defined by the harsh, sudden shadows. She was cross legged on the bed, my glass pipe to her lips, now drawing the flame down to a glowing ember, sucking smoke into her lungs. She was naked, I thought, but still enshrouded by the multiple shadows thrown by the single flickering flame.

I pulled the door closed behind me and locked it without looking. My finger around the round dial of the rheostat, spun it to low before flipping on the light switch. On its dimmest setting, the light seemed close to too bright. Weed drew in, expanding her narrow chest to its full extent before offering the pipe - my pipe - to me. Her voice was tight, holding in the smoke. "Wanna hit?"

Her offer, extending her arm out to me, exposed her bare, flat chest. I stepped close, looking down at her as I took the offering, our fingers lingering over each other. I lit the bowl again, drew in smoke.

"Wow. Somebody is happy to get some weed." I looked down, saw her staring at my still-tented pants. Her eyes came up to mine. "May I?"

A hand slipped into the fly without waiting for an answer, fished my length out and into view. She leaned close, full lips opening as they drew near the head. A pink tongue slipped out, dragging a lingering tasting lick up the underside. A shiver passed up my spine. "Hmm. Doesn't taste like pussy this time."

"Not yet." Her eyes widened at my response. "Move over."

I tapped her shoulder, nudging her back on the bed so I could sit, join her. Join this stunning and stoned, nubile and naked teen. I marveled at where I found myself.

Weed responded by flopping onto her back. My breath caught. She was entirely exposed, legs open to reveal the smoothness I had explored in the shower, tiny breasts vanished except for two raised dark nipples pointing to the ceiling.

I knelt between her thighs, one knee on the bed. Reaching down, I let the mouth piece of the glass pipe - a hollow bulbous swelling the size of a large marble - drag up along the crease splitting her flawless shaved center. Weed whined, a half-protest, and the split opened. Damp petals showed themselves before they too opened, at the next pass of the pipe. I watched the mouthpiece disappear.

"Wait a min..."

"Suck." I cut her off, pulling up from between her legs, I pushed the pipe past her lips. "Taste."

Her eyes stayed fixed on mine, looking up enough that white showed under both dark, intense centers, while she did as she was told. Weed took her time to clean her own juices off the glass.

"That's the pussy I'm going to taste like soon."

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byKethandra© 32 comments/ 213357 views/ 224 favorites

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