Weekend at Samantha's

"What?" he smiled. "I was just checking you out..." and she slapped him again, half playfully, then kissed his face where she'd left a red mark.

The day rolled on. The margaritas flowed, they played pool volleyball, lazed about in the sun, and just had a really great time.

"What are you going to do, after the exams?" Paul asked. They were lazing on the pool loungers, watching the sun flash through the leaves.

"Fuck knows," Izzy said. "Kick back and have an epic summer, probably. It's our last weeks of freedom before Uni and responsibility and shit."

"Chance would be a fine thing," Immy said. "We gotta work to save up if we're going to Uni. We can't all be like Sammy, paid for by the bank of Mum and Dad."

Samantha looked embarrassed. "Yeah, well, it's nice and all, but I wouldn't mind a bit of independence. One day, that money is going to start coming with strings attached."

Paul said nothing. He was going to get a full grant, plus an academic scholarship, and so wouldn't have to pay for anything himself - fees and accommodation were all sorted, and he'd have enough left over to live off, he reckoned. It was kind of the twins not to mention it; normally when the conversation turned to him and his mum living off benefits, it would have been an opportunity for more bullying.

"I think we should start a band," he said.

"You what?"

"A band. Samantha's awesome on guitar; you play drums, right Immy? And Izzy, I know you can play piano. Samantha and I can share the singing, and you can step up too if you want. It'd be great! We can make some money, playing gigs at pubs and stuff over the summer, when people want to drink and be entertained in the beer gardens. Three hot girls in a band? They'll be desperate to sign us up, think of how many punters, male punters, we'd draw in!"

Samantha looked at him. "You're serious, aren't you. When did you come up with this?"

"Earlier, in the pool. It just came to me. You're all good together already, we could all do with the cash, we've got nothing else on. And you're good, really good. You deserve to be heard."

Izzy and Immy looked at each other, and shrugged. "Emma's gonna be pissed."

"She shouldn't have fucked off then, should she." The twins were shocked at his language - that's not how he spoke, at all. He was a bit embarrassed by it too; that was a private word that he'd only meant to use with Samantha, in bed. But it seemed a dam had broken. "Look, she's a cellist, right? Do you think you could persuade her to play bass?"

"It's hardly the same, is it..." Immy said.

"I know, but we could do with a bassist, and you don't want me fumbling through it, that would be terrible. Or maybe she can just play the bassline on the cello; we can mic it up I'm sure. It'd be wicked! And think of it - a four-girl line-up; a brunette, two blondes and a redhead? It's got to be worth a try."

He could tell they weren't convinced. "Think it over. We've got a few weeks until we can do anything anyway, all busy studying." The girls looked at each other, knowingly. Studying? Sure, they might read through their notes the night before the exam, but there was serious partying to do now the evenings were warming up.

"We'd need a name," Samantha said.

"What about 'Queens'?" suggested Immy.

Her sister laughed it off. "Sounds like a bunch of guys in drag."

Paul whispered something in Samantha's ear, something he couldn't bring himself to say out loud. She collapsed in hysterics, putting her hands to her mouth. "No, we couldn't!"

"What?"

"Pussy Galore! Can you imagine?"

"That's outrageous! I love it!" Izzy shouted. She raised her margarita glass. "To Pussy Galore!" And they all toasted to the band they hadn't yet formed.

///

The day rolled on, and the sun went fully behind the trees, cooling the garden. It wasn't pool weather anymore, so they headed back indoors, having dried off in the last of the sun. Paul dragged on a spare T-shirt, and the girls wrapped themselves in sarongs, and they lazed about, watching trash on the TV.

Samantha ordered in a Chinese, and they crowded onto the one sofa near the table, all diving into the little boxes to try out a bit of everything. Paul found himself squashed between Samantha and Izzy, and was painfully aware of their thighs pressing against his own. Fortunately, sitting down, his discomfort - or rather, his pleasure - wasn't too obvious.

"I'm cold," Immy said. They all were; the water had drained them, and the evening had turned. Samantha lit the fire, drawing the dogs into the room, and grabbed a few throw-blankets from the ottoman. Izzy fished in her canvas bag for another treat - a videotape, "Passion in Paris", and slid it into the machine. A story of manly men and sexy women, fine dining and finer lingerie.

Paul, sandwiched between Samantha and Izzy, was rather uncomfortable. 'Back to the Future' was more his idea of a date night movie, but this was supposed to be a girls night, from the twins' point of view. So, he held Samantha's hand, under the covers, rested his head on her shoulder, and tried to react appropriately to the soft porn video.

Izzy and Immy cuddled up to watch. Izzy was all confused. How long had her sister been a lesbian? How could she not have realised this before? They were the same blood, the same genes, even. Am I a lesbian, too? Sure, the women in the film did look sexy. But the men... Wow. No, she wasn't a lesbian. But she was... Curious. Her arm round Immy's shoulder, she let her hand slip down her sister's arm, until it was resting on her breast. And she started to stroke.

Immy was red-hot, watching the beauties in lace on the screen, her sister pressed against her side. Bringing Izzy off earlier in the day was the single sexiest thing she'd ever done; watching her sister's face contort with pleasure, knowing that it was herself that had put that expression there. That look of surprise, delight, and raw lust. She hoped she'd see that again, and soon. She slipped her hand into her sister's lap, found her bikini bottoms, and started to stroke over her most sensitive area.

Samantha was happy. Paul and her friends seemed to be getting along well, much better than she'd feared. School on Tuesday would be so much easier with them on her side; but she'd need to have a talk with Emma before then. She kissed Paul on the top of his head, as he lay on her shoulder. He was such easy company, undemanding, content.

Paul felt a hand brush his thigh. But it was the wrong thigh. With Samantha's hand held tightly in his, it could only be Izzy's hand riding up his leg towards his shorts. And it wasn't stopping... What if Samantha noticed? Should he say something? But he didn't want to cause a scene. Then the hand tucked into his shorts... "Coffee?" he asked, suddenly, jumping to his feet. "Anyone else want one?" And he bustled into the kitchen, embarrassed and slightly freaked out, not waiting for a reply.

He stood in the kitchen, shaking slightly. He had no idea how to respond to being hit on. He didn't want this to be a "them or me" kind of conversation; Samantha had been friends with the twins forever, but this weekend was all he'd had together with her. It wouldn't be much of a decision, he reckoned. He busied himself with making the coffee; boiling the kettle, measuring out the grounds, preparing the mugs, and a jug of milk.

It would be okay. Samantha would understand. He reckoned this must have happened before; the girls fighting over the same guy. He didn't think he was that much of a treasure, but it seemed Samantha did.

A hand grabbed his arse. "Hey, I'll be okay in a minute. Go back in to them and I'll bring the coffee through."

She stepped up close behind him, gave him a hug from behind. Started to slide her hand into his shorts.

Something felt wrong. He felt her boobs pressing against his back... Too firm, and too small. He turned around, caught a flash of blonde before she had her mouth over his, licking at his lips. Paul's mouth was open before he realised what was happening, and they were kissing. Or at least she was kissing him. Paul snapped his head back, pushed against her shoulders.

"Yes, you'll be better in a minute," she said, kissing her way down his chest and kneeling before him.

"Izzy, no..."

She tucked her hands into the waistband of his shorts, ready to tear them down.

///

When Paul left the sofa, Izzy had quickly tucked her hand back into the blanket, and watched as the on-screen hunk took the beauty to bed, while Immy relentlessly teased her clit. Fuck, she was horny. Images ran through her mind, of teasing Paul into fucking her - she'd lie across the kitchen table, pull her bikini bottom aside, and when he saw her shaved pussy he'd be balls deep inside her before the kettle could boil. He'd realise she was better for him than Sammy was when he pounded her until she came screaming. And now was her chance to act. "I need a piss," she said, and rose to leave the room.

She saw his cute little butt in the kitchen, and just had to touch it. Pressing herself against him, it felt so right. His cock was hard for her; she spun him around and her tongue dived into his mouth. He put his hands on her shoulders, starting to push her to the floor. Fuck, he wants me so bad; yes, I'll go to my knees for him.

"Izzy, no.."

She started pulling down those shorts. "You think Sammy gives good head? You ain't felt nothing."

"I don't want to, please leave me alone!"

"You don't know what you want. We share everything; Emma; Sammy; Immy and me. Let me show you what you're missing." And she reached into his shorts, and wrapped her fingers around his cock.

///

Paul looked down. There was a hot blonde girl on her knees at his feet, holding his dick, begging to suck him off. It was so unreal. And maybe a week ago, this would have been the luckiest he ever felt; but now, it was more like a nightmare. Samantha could walk in at any moment.

But then he realised: he wasn't the one in the wrong, here. He'd done nothing to encourage Izzy to come on to him. He needed to shut her down, but hopefully without getting her mad with him.

Firmly but gently, he wrapped his hands around her wrists. "No," he said, pulling her to her feet.

Izzy was confused. "What? Aren't I sexy enough for you?"

Paul licked his lips. "This isn't about how you look." And, just for a second, he wondered if he would have been able to resist if it had been Immy on her knees. "I can forgive years of you teasing and bullying me. I can be civil; we can hang out as a group, get the band together. But a blowjob isn't going to make me fancy you. I'm in love with Samantha, and nothing you can do will change that."

Izzy stared at him, stunned.

"Now look," he continued, "I'm sorry. This all came as a huge shock to me, too, and yes I'm terrified, things are moving and changing so fast. But I'm no threat to your friendship, unless you make me one."

"Please, don't tell her..."

"I'm not going to lie to her." Paul turned away, to pour the boiling water into the cafetière. "But I don't see the need to tell her anything unless she specifically asks." He picked up the tray, and started walking back towards the lounge. He turned at the door to face her. "I think you and your sister should go home after coffee, leave Samantha and me to enjoy the rest of the evening."

And with that, he turned away from her, and walked back to his sweetheart.

///

Samantha watched him come back into the room. She realised he must have been embarrassed by the sex scenes on the TV, needed an escape. She found that amusing, after the things he'd done to her this weekend. But it's different, in public. They all sat, drinking coffee, chatting about school and the possibilities for the band. Then Izzy and Immy excused themselves, saying they wanted to catch up with Emma at the club, like they'd originally all planned to do tonight. She thought it was kind of them to let her and Paul spend more time together alone. Clubbing didn't seem like it would be his scene; and she didn't really want a horde of sweaty drunk guys perving over her tonight. She had other plans; and for those, she needed to relax. She was very aware that she'd not had him all day, and now the tension and the need were all but unbearable.

"Are you cold?" she asked. Paul nodded. "Come with me." She skipped into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge, and a couple of glasses.

"Are we celebrating something?" Paul asked. But she just kissed him, took his hand, and led him upstairs. But she didn't take him to her room, like he expected. She led him towards her parents' bedroom. "I'm not sure that's appropriate..."

"Ha-ha, no I'm not going to fuck you on my parents' bed. Through here," and she went into the ensuite.

Paul looked in amazement - a whirlpool bath, big enough for two, was sunk into the floor. Samantha turned on the gold taps, and piping hot water spilled into the tub. She added just the tiniest dash of something creamy and rich from an ornate bottle on the windowsill. Then she swayed back towards him.

"Strictly speaking, we shouldn't be in here either," she said, teasing her fingernail down his chest. "But I feel like being a bit naughty tonight." She leant in, and slipped her tongue between his lips.

He had one hand in her hair, and the other on her pert butt, as she ran her hands up his back, pulling him hard against her, pressing her soft body against his firm but trembling frame. She loved feeling that, feeling how she made him quiver.

She pulled his shirt over his shoulders, dropped it, stroked his chest. Untied his swim shorts, let them fall to his ankles. He was hard, painfully erect, for her. She wrapped her hand around that hardness, kissed him again. With shaking hands, he pulled her top up, snagging on her breasts, but over her head and through her hair. Kissing again, he reached behind her back, and unclipped the bikini top with much less difficulty than she'd anticipated. He peeled the material away, stared in rapture at her naked breasts, and she pulled him back to her, pressing the soft flesh against his chest.

Turning from him, she dropped the bikini bottoms to the floor, and stepped into the steaming bathtub, and he stepped in after her.

"Oww! Shit! Are you trying to boil us alive?!"

She laughed. "I thought you liked it hot." She leant over to turn off the taps, and his eyes followed her swinging boobs, then flicked back to check out her arse, and a hint of more between her legs. Then she turned, and sat, and he watched her boobs bob and float in the water, surrounded by little bubbles.

He knelt before her, kissed her nipples, then turned to sit beside her.

She popped open the bottle, filled each glass, handing one to him. "To us?" he suggested. She smiled, the glasses clinked, and they looked into each other's eyes as they drank. She topped up the glasses before sliding back into the water, and leant across him to turn on the bubble jets, making sure to tease her breast across his arm and chest as she did so. Within moments the water covered over with a smooth silky white foam.

Paul watched as Samantha's tits became little islands and hilltops overlooking a snowy-white plain. "They say the shape of these glasses is based on Marie Antionette's boob."

She laughed; he was full of these silly and unlikely facts.

"I think you'd be more of a brandy goblet, see..." and he went to put her boob into his glass, and splashed cold champagne over her nipple.

"Fuck!" she jumped; eyes widened. The cold shocked her, and the bubbles tickled. Her nipple stood to attention.

"Sorry," he said, leaning forwards, and licking the wine from her breast.

"No, you're not!"

He laughed. "No, not really..." and he resumed sucking her breast, and his hand stroked up her leg, and his fingers were inside her.

"God, you make me feel so... Yeah, just like that... Curl your fingers a little, oh my god yeah, just there..." The combination of his deft finger work, the bubbles caressing her in just the right way, and the champagne working her mind over, was intoxicating. She closed her eyes, to let her sense of touch dominate her thoughts. The water and bath oils made her skin and his hand more slippery, easier for skin to glide over skin. He was just the right combination of firm and delicate, gentle but insistent. It was as if he anticipated her needs, his hands and his lips were always just where she needed them. Her body longed for his, and her mind couldn't imagine being without him. "So close... I'm gonna... Don't stop, yeah just like that, there, right there, oh god oh GOD OH FUCK!"

He slowed the rhythm, bringing her down gently but keeping her ready. What was it about him, why was it so easy for him to make her come so quickly? In the haze of endorphins, she felt she knew the answer... He was such easy company, no demands of his own, no pressure, just the desire to please her. He could read her body and her reactions, and responded to them, unconcerned for himself. That surely is what is at the heart of any strong relationship - the desire to please the other person before yourself, and their desire for the same for you.

She looked at him, the scrawny geek, the butt of everyone's jokes, the weakling. Her heart reached for him. Her boyfriend. Her man. Hers. "You're all mine," she muttered.

"Pardon? Sorry, I couldn't hear over the noise of the pump. What did you say?"

She shook her head. That wasn't right. She needed to do this right. She floated round and sat on his lap, perched on his knees. She took his face in her hands, took a deep breath, and spoke the words she hadn't dare say all day. "I think... I'm falling in love with you."

He said nothing, just stared. Say something, please, I beg you, she was thinking. Then she noticed the tear leaking from his eyes. His lips opened, and closed, like he had forgotten how to speak. She brushed a tear aside, and that seemed to bring him back.

"Oh Samantha, I am so in love with you, too." And he leant forwards, and their lips met, as if never to part again.

She slid forwards, up his legs, until she was astride his waist in the slippery frothy water. She could feel his need pressing into her thigh, and without breaking the kiss she guided him into her. Then she rocked, feeling him move inside her, rubbing over her g-spot, her muscles constricting round his head and shaft. His hands rose to her breasts, now just touching the water, and he held one while his other hand pulled her face to his.

"Tell me when you're close," she whispered. He just nodded, kissing across and between her foam-covered tits as she leant backwards in his arms. She felt his eyes on her body, and knew it wouldn't be long. "Sit on the side," she requested; then knelt before him in the water, positioning herself over the bubble jets as she slipped him into her mouth, sliding her lips over him and taking him deep. She withdrew to the tip, stroked the shaft with her hand, licking and sucking on his head, bringing him shaking and twitching into her mouth, over her tongue, watching his eyes. When she was sure he was done, she lay back on the other side of the bath, letting him slide back into the water, and swallowed. No need to get his load into the bubble mechanism.

He lay beside her, spent, pulled her against him, facing him, her arm across his chest and her leg over his.

"Thanks for today," she said. "I thought it would turn out awkward, but everyone got along so well. I realise it must have been difficult for you. Thank you for giving them a chance."

"They're your friends, so now I guess they are kind-of my friends too."

"I hope so. Izzy's been such a bitch to you in the past. I guess we all have."

Tread carefully, he thought. "Izzy and Emma were the worst. You and Immy, you were just there, not rocking the boat, I suppose. And I'm sure I did used to be annoying, always wanting to be right about everything, showing off how much cleverer I thought I was than everyone else. Not sexy at all."