Work Out Sleep Over

It's a onesie with a hood. And a tail. And markings to make it look like a wolf. Although, I think she got it wrong. I think it's a husky. The color around the mouth, and the text on the tag say it's a husky. But looking at it isn't going to make the moment any better. So, on it goes and immediately, immediately, it starts warming up.

I don't look in the mirror. I don't want to look in the mirror. It will be a surprise for all of us and if I stay in this room any longer, I will never come out again. And I need to at some point. After Louise's fun little round of teasing, we had to redo the sheets this morning and the washer's still running. Bare mattress sleeping is simply terrible and I refuse to debase myself in that manner. This way will work so much better. My shame will be shared among my companions and thus it will be cut in third.

But not now. I am alone on the couch, relaxed and numb to the world. It is all warm and fuzzy and deep, an endless sea of soft fabric caressing my body. I undo the zipper a bit. It needs better ventilation. It really does. Not designed for me and my anatomy to anything more than bone chilling.

I crane my neck back and I see Louise in bright green, two bulbous eyes perched above her head and thin ribbon of red draping across her forehead. She snickers at me and I can't help but feel all the eyes on me and the stupid thing I was forced to wear.

"I hate you so much right now," I say.

"You look great. Don't mind me. It's just weird to see you in any other color than black," she giggles.

"It's gray. That's close enough. I'm not getting into anything more colorful than this. I feel ridiculous."

"Again. Look great. I used to wear these things all the time in college. Although that was a salamander, I think."

"I feel super-hot. Like I will be roasting in an hour."

"It'll be fine. You'll be fine. And this will be fun."

"So," says Saoirse, "Pizza's on its way. Like an hour and half cause Nick's get super busy on Saturdays. I also put in a dozen donuts at Sugar Rush for tomorrow so one of us will need to be- "

I interrupt the train of thought with nothing more than a jovial wave and a sheepish grin. I think I'm blushing. She has decided to go with a red panda, the felt of her jammies almost blending in with her hair. The zipper down her front is straining and I think I was not the only one who had a tricky time picking up her outfit for the night. Her lips break and she is fighting back a raucous laughter that I do not blame her for feeling. That said, if she lets it out, we are going to have issues. Her emerald eyes sparkle as something turns in her mind.

"I will give you $10, right now, if you go 'rawr.' Just like that," she says.

"I'll double that," Louise says, "$20, all yours. For just one little 'rawr.' Think about it. You can do a lot with $20."

"And so can you," I say, "We're all friends. Hell, I'll throw in $10 if we do something else entirely. $30. Guilt free. Whatever you two want to do."

"We want to spend $20 to get you to do that."

I sigh. They are both smiling at me and nodding and exerting enough peer pressure to turn me to diamonds.

"Rawr," I go.

Louise starts stifling down the all the bubbly laughter and giggle and urge to rush me and kiss me and pet me and tell me I'm a good girl. Saoirse does a bit better, composing herself a bit more rigid as she walks to her purse and rummages around. A $10 bill snaps in her hands and finds its way to mine.

"There you go," she says, "Lady of my word. ATM fresh."

I sigh and find a spot for it to lie. It disgusts me. I have done what I said I would and I feel nothing but shame, raw black shame. The portrait on the bill is judging me and whatever disapproval he feels, I feel the same.

Louise kisses my cheek and suddenly it doesn't feel so bad. I don't think I would do it again. And neither one of them is asking me.

"What about Sugar Rush," I ask. Saoirse moves to sit with us, not quite as clinging and cuddly, but legs touching and arms glancing together.

"So, pick on Rachel time," she says, "I'm not risking you cooking, so I got some donuts. One of us needs to be responsible and actually get them tomorrow, but that's tomorrow. Today, I need to know why I'm wearing this thing and had to bring board games."

"You were there when we learned. Ice cream date," Louise says, "Rachel has a very important first."

"Wait, really? Shouldn't we have a guy for that then? And that doesn't explain the jammies."

"No not that," I sigh, "That's a story, but no. Apparently, it's a sin that I never had a sleepover before."

"Little bit," she says, "I agree. Little bit. That's just kind of a thing people do. Never? Like not even when you were a little kid?"

"Never. I wasn't always super popular and my parents wouldn't let it happen when I was older. They knew what would happen if I was alone with a girl for more than 15 minutes."

"And they were right," Louise says, "It's kind of inevitable. You punched me and we fucked. You lifted a chair for her and then you fucked. So, now, we play board games and watch movies until the pizza arrives."

"And then fuck?" I ask.

"What did I just say? That's inevitable. Kind of surprised we're not doing it right now."

---

I roll the dice and move my piece and nobody gets hurt. I choose to open a door and flip over a tile. It's the parlor. I feel like this house we are making has like three of those at this point, and two of them are on the second floor. Louise is into it. I don't get it, but I keep my wine glass full and that makes everything fun.

Saoirse is having fun with it as well, but more for the competition of it. She's flushed and loud, smiling and pouting at every single move that turns out to be wrong, but advantageous. She's fun to just watch run through the gambit. There are plans and counter plans and counter-counter plans and they all seemingly fail to a roll of the dice and an upturned tile. We get a dance hall and our mansion is officially lively and fancy. I don't remember the objective of the game.

Her zipper has crept lower throughout the night. Mine has as well. The uniforms are hot. Louise is fine with it, almost retreating deeper and deeper into the snuggly warmth of her spirit animal. I keep shedding my layers, the sleeves pushed up, the pant legs the same, hood down and zipper almost reaching my belly button. It will get there eventually. And further still.

"Ooooh, the game room," Louise says, "That's a good room."

"I never had one of those," I say, "I assume its where this game belongs."

"That and my sister's videogames," she says, "She always tried to take them upstairs back to her room, but then we'd never see her again. She's fun. You'd like her. Quiet, doesn't talk a lot, but she listens really good. Your turn."

I roll the dice and avoid harm once again. A hallway. Riveting. I take a sip of wine and watch Saoirse's zipper go a bit lower, all on its own. Her chest wants to be free. It should be free. It should be rolling in my palm, soft warm skin and heavy weight, covered in kisses and licks and so many little nips and bites. The wine is in my head and I don't see a reason I shouldn't just reach out and take it. Especially when she reaches over me to grab the dice and move her token.

Her breasts hang and sway with her movement, her own mind completely fixated on winning the game however it is you actually do that. Louise is grinning like a smug little cat when her turn rolls around again and one more card is turned over. I don't care what it is. I am not paying attention.

I am getting hard, running through the memory and future of my time spent with those wonderful breasts. Bouncing and swaying, red from loving abuse, covered in a thin layer of sex and sweat, laden in thick strands of my seed, cleaned by a reverent Louise, engulfing my length so I can shower her face, so many permutations of her and they are all locked away by a cheap set of metal teeth.

The doorbell rings and Louise beams, jumping up before anyone else can react. The pizza is here and that's the best part of any sleepover.

I lunge at Saoirse and she suppresses a slight yelp when my hands grope her and squeeze that lovely chest. Fear, there is that wonderful fear in her fro the briefest of moments ats the mind catches up and lays down the events as they will unfold. She will love this. She has loved this. She can't help it.

She leans up and presses her lips to mine once the lust hits her in full. Tongue on mine, lips on mine, hands interlaced with mine, mine, mine, mine. She tastes like wine and warmth and terrible envy that she was brought in late. But now, right now, she is lost to me and me alone. I cup her breast and start rolling, getting one more little squeak of pleasure from her.

"So Rachel," Louise says, "I owe you $10. I used your... Wow. Good on your parents. Not even a minute. You must have had more control back then."

Words, meaningless words that come in through ear and fall away. They are not a body. They are not a heavy breast laid in my palm. They are not a greedy mouth and a nimble tongue. They are not a pair of hands creeping in on my skin sinking lower and lower to the length that will ravage her in a moment's time.

I am hard, fully, and it is painful. The fabric is tight and cutting with cheap sharp seams and jagged teeth in me. It does not like the pain, but the rage only grows strong. I strain against the zipper. It gets stuck over the bulge, a mountain too tall to overcome. Some base instinct says to press it into her and I do. I follow and obey as reason slips off into the dark cold places of my soul.

She breaks away to gawk and work her lip trying to understand what is happening. The teeth creak and moan at the force I make. And they pop open with a deep rip and I am free and pulsing and furious once more. Louise just laughs and moans. She doesn't matter. I have a redhead to play with.

"See," Saoirse says, "I told you it wouldn't fit."

Someone giggles and it is neither one of us. Comparatively speaking, her zipper comes undone easily, freeing her chest to bounce and sway and tantalize me with wonderful heavy weight. My mouth finds her nipple and it is everything I ever dreamed it to be. I move my arms free of this stupid costume and I am holding her and lifting her, tearing at the fabric until she is just as free as I am.

Her skin is pale and easily marked. I trace a nail and watch the red lines come after. The freckles, though, the dots of color on her shine and sparkle and dance in hypnotic patterns as her own wonderful call answers mine. She helps me take her to the basest level. One simple creature seeking another and I can't help myself from a savage smile as her legs open to a weeping slit flushed red with open petals. Beautiful, it is all beautiful.

She nods before I can ask. She's ready and there is a voice beside me now goading me to do what I was made to do and I do it before that thought can collect in me. I am in her and she is tight. I am in her and she is warm. I am in her and I am aching to go as hard and as fast for as long as I can.

"Louise," Saoirse whines, "Did you do something to her?"

"Maybe. Little bit," she says with a sheepish cock of the head, "We were fooling around last night and I kind of cut things off."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Cause I thought it would be funny and it was."

"You were scared," I growl. Slowly, so slow and inching closer to start, just enough to get Saoirse squirming under me, fighting to pull me deeper and keep me away in equal measure.

"Kind of. But fun scared. Haunted house scared," Louise says as she pecks my cheek, "Now are you going to keep talking or are you ready to finally release all that nasty tension you've been holding onto."

"I am going to ruin you," I say to both of them. I just get another soft whimper and a delicate kiss on the cheek.

"I hope so," Louise says, "But her first. This is my punishment, right? Delayed gratification. Really give it to me. I've been naughty."

I have so many thoughts in my mind and they are terrible brutal and brutally savage. And it takes long slices of time, hours, days, weeks, months of us intwined and embrace until she is rendered comatose and still. I imagine I will be somewhat tired as well, to some extent. Maybe even tuckered. And I do lay into the wonderful redhead with labored breathing and shut tight eyes. I kiss her forehead until she relaxes, just a bit and I am an inch deeper, a twitch more inside of her. A dark hand snakes in between us, pressing into her belly.

"That's amazing," she sighs in hushed awe, "I can feel your shape through her. You're not even halfway in her yet."

"Working on it," I say, "It always takes a moment. Even with you."

"I know. But Saoirse, doesn't it feel really good?"

"I swear," she moans, "It's bigger. I don't know how, but it's bigger."

"'Fraid not. Always was like this," I grunt, "You'll get used to it."

"I hope I never do. I want this sensation forever."

Halfway, I am now halfway in her and I feel Louise's hand trace the outline through her. The tight writhe of folds and grips and a single finger, it is all the same method of the same goal. I am all the sensations down to the marrow. I sigh and even more in her. It is close, so close to the start of something fantastic.

I lay my forehead to hers, staring int the green of her eyes as I slip the last bit of me into her, filling her completely. Our hips met and she shudders and quakes and simply stares with rapt awe about how much is in her.

"I never realized how big you were," Louise says quietly, "Like I knew, but seeing it like this. Wow. Just wow."

I hold her in base pride, my body is strong and virile and powerful and that makes me desired. I have worked for it and been gifted it and I have two people here in reverence. The finger is back tracing the shape and I'm a little shocked it doesn't go up to Saoirse's throat. It feels like it should. She's a bit surprised too, I think. Between her belly button and rib cage, that is certainly good enough for all of us.

It is a long moment I hold us all here, in the moment of the true beginning. The anticipation builds in all of us. The need, the desire, everything that has been and I lean into the moment when I start to pull out again. Saoirse gasps and moans and fights the motion just as much as she hastens it. Terrible pleasure, horrendous ecstasy, it is given to her in megatons.

Slow, so slow, I start so slow, just so we can all stave off the inevitable overwhelming destruction of a bit longer. My partner makes so many pretty noises, so many fun sounds, whimpers and yelps and pushing and pulls and twitches over me and it's all what I needed. A day is too long. An hour is too long. Never a second with pleasure, never a second without the thrill of the act. That is life. I am in her and I am working her, blushing her stomach and contorting her face with nothing more than a simple in and out of my hips. I shift a bit and scrape against her side. She likes that. She clamps down and her legs spasm so that means she likes it. I will keep doing that.

As pleasurable as the sight of her eyes filling my entire vision, I have other things to look at. Her breasts, heavy and round and pale, move and bounce and shift in the hypnotic echo of my movement. Soft claps when they meet, when they land on her chest, when they stop for a moment's time. They are almost lost in the noise of the rest of us, growls from my throat, whimpers and gasps from Saoirse, giggles and coos from Louise, and the heavy percussion of our bodies.

I move faster. I can't take the stillness anymore, the careful consideration of another, so I am going faster now, pulling away to sit on my knees, lifting her legs up with me and pulling her in time with my thrusts. Her hands are on my wrists and she is helping me move with the rhythm. The initial shock has worn off and I am picking up the slack. I am in her and I am in my rut, where God is right here inside of her and slowly eroding her soul.

The shock is gone and the fire is back in her eyes. We are back to the first game, the give and take and now she knows the rules of what is expected. More than she thought, more than she knew, but it is a game at the end of all things. And she knows how to play. Her hips are in small circles with me, adding the lightest bit of texture for the both of us. She still makes all the small, scared noise I have come to expect and I hope that she never stops.

Louise drapes her arms around my shoulders and I take her weight. Her chin to my shoulder, some sort of eager audience nearing the edge of participation. I can feel her make the same noises as she starts to rub on me. She took down her own zipper at some point. I don't know when, but I should have done that. With my teeth. Or just ripped the damn thing open and discard it in the trash where it belongs.

She is warm, taking all of that heat captured by the cloth and giving it to me, easing the tension, letting me move with more strength and power. Her own grind finds our tempo and changes with it. Three, three whole bodies matching the pace we set together with destructive intent and glorious release so soon.

Louise's comes first down the line, to my surprise. She doesn't seem to be getting that much feeling, but I am also not paying attention to her for the most part. There could be an army behind her attending to her needs. That would be about what I can do, in my opinion.

It is a soft one, a relatively gentle one, that pulls from her core and it is something that I can't help but feel is lacking. Screaming, thrashing, wild eyed panic that the climax might last indefinitely and ruin any chances at a normal life, scouring the mind clean. But it is a simple hitch in the breath, a tightening of her grip and a giggling laugh trailing off into an empty chest gasping for air. I lean over and kiss her, just a small touch of the lips, and she pushes back into me for a moment.

Saoirse's comes next and it is a bit more dramatic. Her legs entwine around me and force me as deep as I can go, with just the smallest amount of movement possible. Full, she is completely full of me and me alone. And she gives me what I am used to. Not quite the level of activity, but thrashing and gasping and tensing, another quiet one, but because it has been bottled and caged in order to preserve something like dignity.

And her end finally brings mine. I hilt and stay, crushing into her and filling her and letting the grip take every single thought I had down to my core and washed away with torrent force. My stomach clenches and I howl in primal abandon as the pulses start to rake over. Louise lays a hand on Saoirse's stomach and I marvel at the contrast in skin. Its mesmerizing, I screw my eyes tight and let it all happen.

It hits me like a tidal wave, so it must be cataclysmic for Saoirse. Intense, white hot, scouring mind please races through me in black cloud lightning bolts. There's a hand on my thigh, feeling my muscles flex and tense and eb and flow. The other is on her stomach again, feeling the impact of hot viscous seed from the inside. Pulse from the deepest waters racing from the center of the earth, filling her womb with long shots and thick strands, pooling and coiling around inside of her. She hits her climax again, so soon after the first and that pulls that wonderful wailing song of destruction. Beautiful, simply beautiful. I pull Louise closer and kiss her deep, thrashing against her as I am thrashed against and I am in heaven, thinking of nothing at all, a being of pure sensual delight. Her skin is warm and her lips taste of wine and a sneaky slice stolen from the box. She tastes of lust and hunger and desire to experience me all over again.

Again and again and again, those sparks ignite my mind and take away any thoughts I would have had. There is nothing but the bestial rut, the base satisfaction, the savage pride in what I am and what I am doing to her. Her belly swells, pushing against the hand, forcing my seed back out as she is too full to hold anymore. And I still pulse and throb and detonate within her. There is an endless sea housed within me and it can only escape with all too short hurricane bursts, leaving devastation in its wake. I keep filling her, keep my length pulsing, my core clinging and pulling and I refuse to run dry.