X-Ray Vision Ch. 06: Accepted

I was content to sit here, holding my love, fucking her gently, hardly moving, just feeling the cool evening air on our skin, feeling her warm body in my arms, feeling her hot internal folds holding me.

Jillian was right, this was the best thing ever. Never mind the rules, no neighbors to complain, just us and nature and warm skin and squishy sex. Heaven!

I could see her diaphragm catch, her vagina begin slow contractions, leading up to orgasm. Her nipples tensed, everything connected to the vagus nerve reacting, bladder constricting, colon slowing, all bodily functions attending on the reproductive act.

I massaged her abdomen, working her muscles, then with one hand gathered both tits together as well as I could, the other reaching to her sex, her clitoris, began massaging around, mashing the flesh but leaving the sensitive bud to react.

That did it; the vaginal trills, the flush of fluid, the diaphragm tensing, the nipples hard as nuts - everything that meant Jillian is cumming! It was too much; I had reached my limit of soft warm wet sexy stimulation, spilled everything I had into her.

We came together, my semen being massaged by her vagina to her womb, her greedy sex hoarding my sperm, guiding it to her core.

She cried like a kitten, all sexy-soft sound, curiously making me want to protect her, hold her tight. I wrapped her in my arms, supported her as her core tensed, relaxed, spent.

She leaned her head back, turned for a wet squishy kiss, eyes half closed, happy, flushed. I kissed my just-cummed Jillian, happy as a guy can be with his cock in his girl, his cum oozing out their sex.

"Good thing we stripped; else those shorts would be soaked for the walk back."

She struggled to sit upright, a little woozy from her orgasm, stood.

Ooops! It all came plopping out as her abdomen contracted, landed right on our shorts in a jizzy pool.

She spread her knees, leaned over to watch it happen, struggled to step forward and maybe save some mess. It just served to spill more jizz everywhere, stretch strands between her shorts and mine.

"No help for it!" I was pragmatic. Pulling my shorts up to my knees, there was an obvious cum-smear all down one leg.

She struggled to find her waistband in the tangle at her feet, bent completely double, her round bottom in my face, her red puffy cunt working more cum out. Pulled up, a wet spot the size of one butt cheek showing. Her mess (my mess?) was inside her shorts, making them stick to her ass wetly.

"Horndog! Jizz hound! You cum like a bull! What a weird feeling! Like somebody spilled warm pancake batter on my butt!"

She was enjoying this immensely, enjoying my discomfort at having to walk home covered in sex evidence. Then she saw something over my shoulder, grinned, waved.

"What the hell?" I turned to look, saw a middle-aged woman walking her dog up on the trail some 50 yards away, watching. With one hand on her crotch, rubbing. She smiled shyly, waved back.

Nothing for it. I waved as well, called "Nice evening for it!", got a real smile in return.

I stood, mooning her in the process, pulled my shorts the rest of the way up. Tried to scrape some mess off, serving only to smear my hand, smear the shorts more, make the mess bigger.

We went to leave, realized neither of us had a shirt on. Hers was on the dingy, easily fetched and slipped on. I felt some regret at the loss. Not because I couldn't still 'see' her; because the naughtiness was over!

She helped me look for mine. Ultimately it was behind our perch, hanging low on a bush. She snagged it, tossed it to me.

Re-clad, made our way back down the bank to the creek, waded back to the beach, began picking our way out of the rocky scree.

"I loved that. You were right; that was a blast. And no harm done; that lady had a good time too!"

"Who do you think she was perving on? You? or me?"

That was a puzzler. Maybe we'd never know. Did it matter? We'd volunteered the show; it was up to her how to enjoy it.

"If she has any sense, she'd perv on you. Those tits! That butt! Oh that pretty face, all screwed up, cumming!" I was getting hard again.

She swatted my butt, happy, then wiped her hand on her shirt tail.

"Laundry again!"

...

Jillian

Home and just time to get washed up, changed for Girls' Night. Greg was not concerned; no more than usual anyway. Full of enchiladas, empty of spunk, a pretty chill guy.

"Don't wait up!"

He looked like he had something to say.

"Spill it!"

"You might, not want to drink as much."

"It's the tradition!"

He nodded, in complete agreement.

"But just in case, you know, it's not good to drink when, you know."

What was he getting on about? It dawned on me. I put a hand to my mouth, looked astonished.

"Am I? Can you see? Did we.."

"No! I can't see anything. Not this early anyway. But just in case."

I nodded, complete agreement. This was my goal after all; my idea to go commando, to fuck like bunnies with not a care in the world. If I had 'caught', well, that was the idea right?

"I promise! Maybe half a wine spritzer at the Lizzie's, then soda water at Khang's!" I was excited, not at all put out.

What would I tell Khang? The truth; I couldn't lie to my sister. It just didn't work; she would always know.

A horn honked; Khang had sent a cab, I didn't know the way to our rendezvous, somewhere up the hill in a townhouse overlooking downtown. The cabbie would know.

A peck on the cheek, a cheeky smile! and I was off.

Ten minutes, I got out in front of some fake-Victorian remodel. Not bad really; the gables were not period but they'd made an effort.

A pretty steep front step. Have to watch Khang on those later. Didn't want her to take a bad tumble!

I knocked timidly; the door was flung open instantly. One of the Lizzies?

"Jillian! Splendid! We've started without you!"

She flowed into the hall behind the door, some slinky ribbony girly dress making her look like a cloud. A pretty big cloud; she was a sizeable girl. I followed, closed the front door.

Finding my way toward the back, past a bathroom, past the kitchen, found the TV room by the sound of voices. Big comfy couches, tall church-windows with frosted glass. An improbably big screen on one wall, above a fireplace. No fire yet; too early in the fall.

Khang was standing in front of the fireplace looking at a row of bottles, admiring the labels. A lady not much different from Khang in appearance was showing them off.

They rattled on in Vietnamese, laughing, squinting at fine print, exclaiming. Apparently they'd held something pretty impressive, but now empty. Some past celebrations?

"Never mind them honey; they'll run down before long. The show starts in ten minutes! Never fails; they can't help but watch the travesty."

The program was some dumb dating thing, guys and gals but apparently some of the gals were sleeping together. Pure lesbian fan-service stuff; Khang's current guilty vice. Pure artificial overhyped drama and fake tension. Perfect Girls' Night stuff.

Lizzie the greater asked what I was drinking; raised an eyebrow when I timidly requested a wine cooler. She poured something from a can, handed it to me.

"You can't be preggers already dear! It takes more than one time!"

That got the other ladies' attention. Lizzie the lesser spoke up.

"Yes! Tell us about the dress! How did it go? Did he get his nasty prick into you?"

They laughed, but with Khang laughing too it wasn't mean. She came over quickly, hugged me. "Don't listen to them; they're just jealous."

Another round of laughter, followed by the Lizzies kissing delicately over their wine glasses. It was adorable, the lesser Lizzie on tiptoe, face raised up, the greater Lizzie bent primly over, lips just touching, eyes sparkling.

"Yes dear, we are. Khang has never made either of us a fuck-me dress, not once. She insists we don't need any encouragement!"

More laughter; I was pretty sure Khang was right. These two were loud and proud; nobody had to give them permission to do anything. I liked them immediately.

"Well, to tell the truth, it wasn't just once."

Shrieks of laughter! I could play this game, be lewd and outrageous. I felt instinctively that was the way to go tonight, at least here.

"And it's awfully interesting for supposed lesbians to be so curious!"

"Oh we've been there sweetie. Lizzie was married..."

"For two weeks! I couldn't stand the horny bastard. Had it in me morning noon and night. And I never came! Not once. I left him, dick hanging out, moved in with Lizzie..."

"And that was that. Been here ever since, learning the ropes."

That got more laughter; apparently bondage was fun and naughty to these gals. Well good for them.

Khang didn't want to know if Greg had put it 'in me'; she trusted her dress to get the job done. She wanted to know how many times.

I started counting on one hand, stopped. "Just that night? Or the morning after too? And today? Does that one count on the beach, just before I came over?"

"You prick-whore!" They laughed loud, gleeful, happy for me. Big Lizzie gave me a smooch on the cheek and a smack on the butt. "You make him sit up and beg, girl! I know you can do it!"

Time for the show! Big Lizzie operated the remote, found the channel, put it on mute.

"We don't listen to it dear; that's not what this show is for. They're terribly dull in any case. No, we're here for the T and A!"

And there was lots of that. Lounging around the pool, tops off as often as on. One-on-one in a bar; in a studio, dissing each other; late-night black-and-white overhead shots of bodies writhing under sheets.

Everyone had their favorites. Khang loved Betty, a pretty butch girl in vinyl, a lot like Nick actually. I left that alone; plenty of time later at her place.

Lizzie major favored Trina, a tiny thing, much like Lizzie minor but dressed like a college girl, all short skirts and knee socks. She had a hand in her lap every time Trina showed on the screen, moaning and calling her name.

Lizzie minor was all about Gal, a muscle girl, into leather and bustiers, giant tits nearly bursting from anything she wore. I'm sure Lizzie came at least twice, once when Gal was bartending, leaning over to pick up a keg, legs bulging, pecs convulsing until nipple showed over the leather. The other time when Gal stripped for bed, slid in with the guy in the show, a supposed bachelor. Sat on him, held him down, had her way with him. Real porno stuff; this must be a premium channel, not family friendly at all!

I found it all hot and bothersome. I'd cum what? ten times in the last twenty four hours and still it was hard to sit still. The gals were awfully pretty and sexy. And the guy was a guy, muscles and shirtless and always one leg up on a chair or whatnot, showing his package.

And three lesbians in the room with me, slitching their cunts, calling out their orgasms! Rough stuff. And all I had was half a wine spritzer to calm my nerves.

I petted myself, but being sore from all my other activities I took it pretty slow. Just a hand up my skirt, some clit-stroking, enough to make me flush and chill.

The show ended, and Lizzie turned the set off.

"Sorry to beat-and-run girls! But Lizzie and I have a thing at a club! Goes all night!

"Thanks for cumming Jillian! You are a cutie; if Greg ever does you wrong, you call me dear, I have a big big bed!"

I promised I would do that. I could imagine Lizzie could be very comforting, all those curves and warm cushions. Very motherly. Or so I imagined.

Khang and I left, Khang carefully holding my arm while she tottered down those terrifying front steps.

"I like your friends, Khang. So welcoming! So naughty!"

"They were showing off! You're a new girl, and not even a Lesbian! They wanted to test you, see if you had any hang-ups. See if they could shock you, be honest with you."

"How did I do?" timidly.

"You were awesome! My little sister was a big hit! You and your bragging, you gave as good as you got! Made me proud." That said with a hiccup.

I was proud; I'd never hung with rampant lesbians before, trying to get my goat and make me blush. It had been a ball. I could get used to this community, without any trouble at all.

"Where is this thing they have? All night?"

Khang was hesitant. "It's a Lesbian bondage club. In the country. They tie each other to planks, drip hot wax on each other. A lot of cunts get eaten." She actually blushed!

"You ever attend?"

She glared at me. "Keep that up, I'll get Lizzie to take you next time!"

That was strangely exciting. Not the hot-wax part; I had no real interest in getting tortured. No juice in that for me.

But my cunt liked getting eaten! If I could get past the lipstick and pretty nails, it might be fun to try.

Khang saw me thinking about it, punched me.

Didn't take long to get to Khang's, all downhill. Took our time; the evening was young, long shadows but not dark quite yet.

The air had cleared Khang's head. She operated her door-key without any trouble, negotiated the back stairs nimbly.

"Shall I open the wine! Oh! What will you drink? Are you really knocked up already? Should I make tea?"

All those questions and she didn't wait for an answer, just went into her kitchenette for a corkscrew and the bottle.

"Tell me about your date with Nick!" I called through as I poked at her music collection. I'd been dying to ask all evening.

She came in, grinning, pouring for herself. "Find yourself something in the fridge." Delaying her answer.

I found a diet something, popped it, poured it into a wine glass. May as well pretend.

Plopping down on her couch while she cued up a playlist, "Well? Nick?"

She poked around, got it started, settled on her stuffed chair.

"She's firm! Strong! Knows what she wants. Asks before sticking her fingers anywhere. Generous. Sucks like a vacuum! Cums for ages!"

That was a lot of information all at once; I took a moment to process.

"Is her black hair natural?" I had figured out this lesbian-scandalous chat by now.

She nodded enthusiastically! "Yup! Bush as black as coal." I already knew actually, but time to tell that story later.

"I could get a nice handhold, really pull! It was glorious! And those eyes! I could just fall into them."

"Didn't the short hair look too boyish?"

No, emphatically. "I love short hair. Yours was pretty short, you know, before we were sisters. Part of what I liked about you."

I may have blushed at that.

So what had I learned? Khang has a thing about short hair, dark eyes. And hair-pulling apparently. All good to know.

"What does he like best? Did he make you cum?"

Abrupt about-face. I figured she was talking about Greg.

Now I was definitely red and embarrassed. Never mind; lesbian logic dictated I answer anyway.

"Yes! He loves when I take control. Never cums first, unless I make him; always knows just how much to touch, how often, how far! It's his second sight; he can see just what excites me!"

Khang looked dumbfounded, stared into space, processing that. Finally nodded.

"Show me how you kiss Greg." Big sister demanding little sister pony up, tell all.

I set my glass down, crawled over to her, up between her knees, playing the game. Took her face in my hands, looked her in the eyes, started sweet and firm. Added a little tongue, sucked her lower lip. Stroked her tongue with mine, pulled out, wet strand dragging between our mouths. Let go, sat back.

Khang was shaking. "G-Greg is a lucky guy."

I nodded. He sure was.

Standing, I started grooving to the music. "Greg gets all hot and bothered when I move. Sees me all, all the time. But when I do this..." I did my hip-wiggle, sinuous back thing.

"He gets a stiffie?" Khang was following my every move.

"Yes!"

Khang giggled! I'd not seen that before. And she was turning red. The wine?

"I get a little stiffie, when I see you do that."

It was somehow sweet, my big sister approving of me, telling me I was sexy and awesome. Felt really good.

"Time for dance lessons!"

Khang went to her music gear, stopped the playlist abruptly, searched, found some dance tracks, something traditional?

She grabbed a stick from the top of a wardrobe, popped it open - a fan! Waited for her opening in the music...and began a complicated choreographed thing, lots of posing, arms just so, fan overhead, in front, artfully held just so!

"I'm not gonna learn that any time soon."

She smiled. "This is the part you should learn."

She began to rock her hips, fan in front, switched to behind, back and forth. Moved up her body as the rocking moved to her torso, shoulders, her head moving side to side, smiling.

I felt a hot flash out of nowhere. "Ok, I need to learn that."

Khang stopped, fished in the wardrobe, came out with another fan, smaller, handed it to me. With some trouble I managed to open it without breaking it. Took a pose beside her, waiting.

She began; I copied her, as best as I could. The hip-rocking was tricky; I never seemed to have my feet in the right place at the right time.

Took some doing, and she had to make me stop, watch her feet, learn the footwork. Then back to hip-rocking - now it all made sense!

Some of that, then bring the fan up, making the switches, about a half-beat behind. It worked; traditional music has an odd rhythm.

We got into it, Khang changing it up from time to time, me following best I could. Until she broke it off, snapped her fan shut, tossed it back on the wardrobe.

"Enough! You do that naked, he'll eat out of your hand."

I could well imagine.

Next from a trunk a wand with a long ribbon, a straw hat with lacy strips pinned around. She had two wands - handed me one. Showed me the moves - swing around, tracing in the air, letting the ribbon follow sinuously. Pretty patterns. Not much dancing - just positioning my body to follow the patterns.

I didn't think that was very sexy. Khang could get some juice out of it, but I was just waving it around, flailing. She shook her head, gave up on me.

"You have to be born to it! Too late for you to learn!" I agreed; not my thing.

New music: something big-band, strong beat. Khang discarded the hat, stripped off her shirt so I followed suit, remembering as I had it over my head that I wasn't wearing a bra. No matter; I didn't bounce much.

Khang took a moment, looking at me, smiled, began a simple step-step-wiggle, took my hand so I would follow. In a moment I remembered it - the cha-cha!

Sounds like an old-fashioned silly thing your grandmother was doing. Probably was. But she was knocking the socks off her date, seducing them, and I guarantee she was fucking them shortly after.

We did this at a High School dance, before the assistant principle broke it up. Too suggestive she said! And she was right.

Because the cha-cha is all about hips, wiggling, showing off your body, your legs. Two languid steps, then just stand in place and go up on right-toe/left-toe, wiggle the hips, wiggle the boobs. Shamelessly sexy!

Two more steps, repeat, every so often you let go one hand and both turn around, showing off your backside!

"I get it. Do this naked and he'll have me over the couch before the song ends!"

Khang just smiled, continued dancing, getting more and more sinuous, getting her shoulders into the hip-wiggle so her whole body was come-and-get-me!

We were both panting when that one ended. Got our drinks, plonked down on her couch and finished them.

A minute of panting and letting the sweat evaporate, then

"Shuffle dance next! You'll like this one. Kind of like a moonwalk but not."

I heaved myself to my feet, still feeling too hot. Shucked out of my shorts, threw them on the couch. Khang watched, did the same with her skirt.

The music started, and she began. The shuffle was basically taking steps, but never getting anywhere! Just sliding the feet back, but your posture like you were gonna walk away.