Under Mr. Nolan's Bed Ch. 02

"Watch this part," she whispered to me, not looking away from the TV as she hit the 'play' button a moment later. I glanced at the screen, where the guy was pounding the dark-haired girl from behind. The girl was moaning, matching Erica's noises, and the guy was groaning, too, as he slammed into her again and again. I could hear a tightness in his voice, something tense and waiting to be let go.

Erica had slipped the wet shaft out of her pussy and was rubbing the pink head over her clit, whimpering and moaning as she played with her nipples. I had an urge to lick one, and the thought made me feel faint, but I rubbed myself faster, my breath matching hers, both of us gasping and panting. The guy on the screen pulled out of the pussy that he was fucking so hard, grunting and groaning with pleasure as he started to cum.

"Ohhhhhh I'm cumming," Erica cried, the bed shaking with her orgasm, her body trembling as she rubbed herself with the vibrator, her eyes never leaving the screen where the guy was pumping his cock in his fist, shooting his cum in long, hot jets up over the raised ass of the girl. It fell in thick strands, some pooling in her lower back, most of it beginning to drip down the crack of her ass toward her pussy.

Seeing it dribble down her asshole, a slow river of cum beginning to part the pink folds of her pussy, was too much for me. I came, too, biting my lip to keep from crying out as my body trembled with my climax, jerking and bucking with it, my thigh brushing against the soft skin of Erica's leg, the sensation making my orgasm even more intense.

Erica had turned off the vibrator and was stroking her belly and thighs with her hands, her eyes still-half closed. I grabbed the remote and stopped the movie, the sight now almost a visual assault, too intense in the wake of my climax.

"You were right," Erica murmured, looking at me. "You told my dad we'd be good—but that wasn't just good... it was fucking fantastic."

I stood up, pulling my skirt down. "Listen, I should get home and change."

She frowned, leaning up on her elbows. "You wanna hang out later?"

"Call me," I said, turning so she didn't see how red my face was getting as I headed toward the door.

The images I'd seen over the last twenty-four hours—the magazines, the movies, Mr. Nolan masturbating, Erica playing with her vibrator—flashed through my head as I walked home. I knew that I could never unimagine them—and the scariest thing was that I found that I didn't really want to.