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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

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Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Get Her Back 4/4 (Word count 7.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The knife still juts from the table.

She touches it often, fondles the handle like it's her lover.

Days pass, and König escapes her stare with raised shoulders and poorly disguised hurt in his eyes. She feels his eyes on her every single time she's not looking.

He breaks into her room every night, but she never wakes up to his presence. The only thing that tells her the man's been there are the fresh flowers on her table next to the knife.

He brings her flowers every morning, just like he promised, and she keeps the blade there to remind him that he's still in her heart. It's like a silent conversation, and it stabs her stomach full of pain.

On the fourth day, he returns her panties. They're covered in dried cum, and at first, it makes her feel disgusted. Then her heart flutters, a warm feeling settles deep inside her stomach when she imagines him jerking himself off to her underwear amidst his knives, with despair and longing coating the air.

For anyone else, it might be a chilling thing to wake up to: to open eyes to the sight of a brutal tactical knife, freshly picked forget-me-nots and some cum-stained lace. But for her, it's a loving attempt to remind her who she belongs to. It's also a sign that the man is trying to let her go and finally obey her wishes to be left alone.

And she doesn't want to be left alone.

He promised she would never be alone.

On the fifth day, there's no flowers, there's nothing. She starts her day with a horrible, awful bawl. Then she puts on a black dress. It makes her look odd, like she's in mourning, but it also gives her… power, somehow. Even if it's another cute kind of cotton babydoll dress, it makes her look more austere.

“König, wait.”

She chases him down this time: runs to his retreating form that stops the instant she calls his name. He’s tense when she walks the last steps to him and hugs him from behind. The familiar scent of tea tree and gasoline and sweat and guns bring a visceral memory of madness to her mind. It’s an ambrosia of crude virility, and she's missed him, God, that she's missed him.

It's also safety. Because no matter what anyone says, he is the only one who knows her, sees her, sees right into her core, her very soul.

He slowly places a hand on hers, the arms that embrace his narrow, treelike middle.

"Engel…"

The voice comes out tight and strained. He caresses her hand with hesitation and swallows.

"I'm confused.. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come with me," she whispers in his back. He has no gear on, and she can feel his abs through the black shirt, the way his shoulder blades flare against her cheek with shallow breaths. "If you want…?"

"Ganz sicher."

She takes him by the hand and guides him to her room. People look at them with pity and dread, and she feels like they’re in high school where people were divided into groups of popular and unpopular.

She knows where she and König would’ve belonged. Where they belonged now…

And she just doesn't care anymore.

When the door to her room shuts behind him, she feels a little tug near her heart. She had nearly forgotten how big König looks inside her little room, the space she has tried to turn into a cozy home even though she doesn't view the base as her home like the soldiers do. It's just a place for her to reside in when she's working.

But he does not fit into a normal society like she does. The base must be the closest thing to a home for him. Not every elite soldier is a lunatic perhaps, but König certainly couldn't find any other job in the modern world that would cater to his needs without sending him behind bars.

But he was supposed to kill only in the field. Only somewhere far, far away.

Why did you do it?

Why…?!

That's what she meant to ask when they're behind closed doors, but something quite different comes out instead.

"Did you miss me…?"

She stands before him, holding her hands in front of her, looking probably quite silly clad in black.

"I've been in hell ever since I left, Engel."

Christ have mercy…

Normal men just didn't talk like that.

"Will you forgive me?" He looks her up and down, but the calm, proud posture, the way he holds his chin high behind that dark shroud tells her he's not used to begging. She has a feeling that this question is asked only because Soap suggested it would be a good idea to apologize for making her so upset.

"It's not me you should be–" She sighs. "Look… That man had a wife. König, I think he had a kid and everything."

His eyes are covered in a veil of disinterest only she can pierce. There's actually so much going on behind that odd, distanced stare. But what’s horrifying is that he clearly doesn’t agree with her on this matter.

"I kill people every week," he declares. "Just not in the break room."

His logic leaves her wordless for a moment. The officer was not an enemy, he was not part of some foreign military, his only crime was that he was in a hurry…

She has barely even opened her mouth to speak before he finally defends himself.

"How do you know his wife is not secretly happy with the news?"

The question is like a bucket of ice dipped in her head. She had prepared herself for almost anything but this. König only tilts his head and narrows his stare.

"Would you want to be wife to that kind of man?"

Her mouth opens on its own; her jaw would fall to the floor if it could do such a thing. His worldview unfolds before her in full, and it should disgust her: but all she feels is an odd thrill in her stomach from realizing this man is not only possessive; he's also fiercely traditional.

"He just spilled some coffee on me," she whispers in soft, tender horror. "He just happened to have a bad day."

"How many times a week did he have a bad day?"

The defense is solid, even if it's preposterous. The man was rude and disrespectful, yes. To everyone, every day, probably continued the abuse at home, too. But he didn't deserve to be killed for it. Still, König doesn't seem to find any fault in his way of thinking.

"I can tell when people are evil," he crosses his arms over his chest as a final note.

Evil…

Evil.

She's left blinking, then she finds her tongue again.

"You can't just… deal punishment like that," she huffs.

"Why not?"

Jesus Christ…

His arms are still over his chest, and he looks… so big, so powerful, like an omnipotent being.

Probably thinks he is.

"Will you go to jail?" She changes the subject because arguing with this kind of man seems futile. Downright hopeless.

"No," he says with perpetual calm. "Would you want to see me in jail?"

"...No."

He finally unravels his arms and takes a few steps toward her. That swaying lounge is intoxicating and seductive, even when he doesn't mean it as such. It's just the way he walks, but it makes her woozy.

"Engel. You are too… kind for this world."

More odd arguments are laid out before her, more confusion and love and pain. He raises a hand to touch her arm and make his point clear. The weight of him is heavy and adult, his military clothing is in blaring contrast to her tiny, childish dress.

"You don't understand it now, but perhaps someday you will."

The man looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with her. She's a child in his eyes, but something in this lunacy tells her she's dealing with a child, too: a boy who no one ever loved.

"My little angel. Always wearing pretty dresses," he says more softly now.

"I'm not an angel."

"Yes you are," he rules without effort. "And you look good in everything. But you shouldn't wear black."

"Why not…?"

"Because you belong with flowers."

Her heart aches, her eyes prick with burning tears. He's self-aware, that's for sure. He knows what he has done to her, what he is doing to her. And he wishes to spare her from him.

"I thought you liked black," she peeps, her mind and will and defense breaking.

He doesn't say anything, but his hand brushes down her cheek, then cups her chin softly. That same hand must be ironclad when it grips his enemies and brings them to his blade.

"I like this dress," she tries to quarrel, voice shaking.

"And I know a knife that would go perfectly with it."

His eyes are warm. There's even a passing sadness in them. She's relatively sure that he's not talking about butterfly knives any longer – she's almost certain that König hasn't gifted his weapons to any other human being on this earth.

“How about we take off that pretty little dress now, hmm?”

The time for the compulsory explanations is over in his mind, and it’s time for sex. He knows that his exile has ended, that whatever liminal space they walked in for a few days wasn’t enough to rid herself of him. There’s no turning back anymore, and he looks at her with amused hunger when she obeys his suggestion which is, in truth, a command.

Her fingers do not shake anymore as she undresses for him, but a shiver goes through her guts: that stare is a look from beyond. He’s a madman, and falling more in love with her every day, even if the only way he knows how to love is by stabbing people with his cock or his knife.

“Lie down,” he gives her more orders when she stands before him with nothing on.

It’s futile, completely futile to pretend that she doesn’t want this. It’s almost like an act, the way she slowly and demurely obeys his command. In reality, she wants nothing more than to be devoured by him.

He takes his clothes off while she waits for him on the bed like an injured bird. He rips, then throws his gloves off like they have done something naughty, all the while his gaze is fixed on her. She has missed the sight of that faint hair on his abs, missed that broad chest, missed how his muscles bunch even when he gets out of a shirt that weighs practically nothing in his hands.

The long, veined cock flies out from his pants with a demanding bounce that makes her swallow. They form an odd pair on the floor: her little dress and his huge woodland camos. His eyes are surrounded in black paint under the eternal mask, but otherwise, he's the palest man she has ever seen.

Her breasts rise and fall with aroused breaths as he settles himself beside her, naked and blazing. His cock is pure fire when it gets trapped between them, and he's already drooling hot precum on her thigh.

He's gentle, kind of. Slides a hand over her shivering stomach, palms one breast, then takes a nipple between his fingertips and gives her a pinch.

“Did you miss me too?”

The hood makes him look like a hangman, and he’s infuriatingly patient now. She expected him to rail her like a sex toy right after the door was closed.

"Yes."

He releases her, and the callous descends with a gentle, deliberate caress to her waist.

"Then you're the first who ever did."

She just might be the first woman he's gentle with, too, and she cannot help but think if it's because of what she said just before he killed that poor man. If the last piece of the puzzle locked in place when he realized how much she admired him. If her confession also made him stake his claim in the loudest possible way, announcing everyone that he's her protector.

It's not her fault that the man's dead, but she should be ashamed: she's wet already when the murderer's fingers delve further down to meet her folds. He disappears somewhere in her wetness, and her thighs rise and drift apart to give him full access.

And it's always like this: she spreads legs for him with a helpless, longing stare, he takes in what belongs to him with dark, pleased hunger.

He finds her clit in no time, drags his thumb over it, and she gasps. Her breaths come quick now, her nipples are shot to the sky and her back is already arching when he delves down and slides one finger inside. It's long and lean, and her cunt grips him like they have been apart for four weeks instead of four days.

He sighs under the mask, just from her greedy response. She wants to touch him too, but doesn't dare to move when he's looking at her like that. He starts to finger her gently, first with one, then two digits while attending to the tight nub on top. And he's good with a knife, quick with his hands, so what did she expect?

But she’s also sad and mad. Because he definitely knows what he’s doing. And it makes her think…

"Have you had a lot of women..?"

Her question is a mouse's whisper. His fingers halt inside her; they spread her with delicious torture.

"A few," he says. "Back in Austria."

He buries his face in her neck and nuzzles his way to her ear. The bag of darkness is soft and hot, but nothing compared to his heated whisper.

"But they were nothing like you."

He punctuates the declaration by curling the fingers inside her. She bites her lip to stifle a filthy, needy moan. He even grinds his hips against her: that cock is like a heated spear against her soft thigh, and more cum oozes out to trickle down her leg.

"How many men have had you, Engel?"

He doesn't ask: how many men has she had. She may not be his plaything, but she is his possession. In his mind, she belongs to him and only him, no matter who has come before. But the murderous passion with which he waits for her answer makes her flustered, and she bolts her mouth tight in an indication that she will not disclose this information.

"Gut. Don't tell. I would kill them all."

Oh.

Oh…

"Would you like that…?"

"No," she whimpers.

"Yes you would."

“I don’t–I don't want you to–”

“Shh.”

He’s working those fingers smooth and quick, and she’s already leaking on his hand, probably on the bed, too… The room is filled with sighs and whimpers and sobs as he fucks her with slick, wet sounds. She's close the edge in mere minutes, but he won’t let her finish.

Instead, he pulls out just when she's about to tighten around him.

"Why-why did you stop?"

"Angel... Take me in your mouth," he rasps, breathless too despite trying to disguise it. She briefly wonders if this is some sort of a punishment. That perhaps she’s ordered to give him a blowjob just when she’s about to come – after all, she has dared to keep him waiting for days.

But that’s not the case, it seems, as she moves with heavy limbs to fulfill his wish.

"Nein… Other way around. I want to taste you."

The perverse suggestion in the break room turns into a reality as she realizes what he wants to do. Her heart is pounding when she crawls on top of him to meet that leaking cock. How exactly is that thing even going to fit inside her mouth?

A sudden shyness takes her as her thighs are forced into a wide-legged spread from straddling the broadest man on earth. She's exposed to the cold air only for a second before his breath hits her. The shortest shadow of a stubble on that usually clean-shaven chin meets her soaked cunt with hunger.

“Ah… Take it– in your mouth,” he moans orders to her folds, and her cunt clenches immediately, just from hearing that accent and that voice.

She moves to give him a shy lick, sweeps a tongue over that tip to clean him from all that precum. He goes tense under her and breathes heavily when she wraps her hand around him, wraps her mouth around the weeping slit.

He tastes of salt and sin, and the minute she tries to take more of him in, he groans with a dry throat. It's a hot, broken breath that travels straight inside her. It’s too much – the position is far too stimulating, it’s over the top wicked.

And then he starts to lick her. It messes up the blowjob that has barely even started. She knows his hood must be almost completely off, otherwise he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Take a bit more, Engel," he urges between the long slathers that already sound lewd. There's simply no way to take it fully in, he’s far too long for that. The last thing she wants to do is gag on him. But she does a good enough job, tries to concentrate on breathing through her nose as she goes as deep as she can.

"That's…more like it…"

It’s a relieved notion somewhere behind her before he continues with the agonizingly slow licks. Fat and flat-tongued, the work of a famished man. For someone who's so clumsy with social interaction, he’s infuriatingly good at giving pleasure to women. The tip of his tongue grazes her clit, and causes a muffled moan – her mouth is full of him but she just cannot help herself.

And arms of steel close around her middle the minute she whimpers on his cock. They pull her closer to his face – he wants to hear her make noise, then, and her will to compete arises. She wants to make him moan too. She ups the pace, flattens her tongue on him every time she retreats…

"Where did you learn to–nnh…"

She nearly laughs at his surprise, at their silly little competition. He's shocked, probably jealous too, of her past and the imagined cavalcade of men who may or may not have been inside her mouth before him. She swirls a tongue around the tip every now and then, wraps her lips tight around him, and goes even deeper.

"Verdammte Scheiße.. I'm not going to last long…"

Strong thighs around her power up, and he has stopped licking her altogether: he's just panting in her pussy and holding on to her hips while waiting for the upcoming wave.

"You know what to do, ja?" He pants that question like she doesn't know he's about to shoot a load on her tongue soon.

"Don't make a mess," he shares advice with a sly tone to his voice. "Unless you want to clean after…"

He gives a short laugh as if the joke is funny. As if that's a clever thing to say to a cleaning lady. It makes her grip him harder, and he's close, so close: he's not even moving anymore, everything's just completely rigid under her body and inside her mouth.

"I'm fucking–cumming…"

He spills with a long groan, moans against her cunt, cries inside her with pain. The seed is hot and heavy, it shoots right down her throat even in this position. She does the best she can to not make that mess, but it's hard work when a giant cock pulses in her mouth.

"You're perfect, angel," he sighs behind her, tries to feed more of himself inside her mouth by rolling his hips.

The praise makes her pump and suck him even more, get every last drop out, and a tremble goes through her lover. She has to take support from the bed until the earthquakes recede. His cock is a clean mess after, and she's a mess too: overworked, and shy, and victorious.

They're both left panting: she tries to catch some breath there between his thighs after everything, but she's not allowed to rest and recover. The grip around her middle pulls her back, and a breathless man trying to lick her like it's the end of the world is not only far too much, it's unbearable. She's already overly sensitive and needy from the four days of barren grief.

"It's too much…" She tries to tell him, but he won't listen. If anything, it only spurs him on.

"König, I can't," she wails softly while resting her head on his thigh.

"Yes you can."

A feverish tongue dips inside her as deep as it goes. It forces her legs apart, she spreads herself all over his face completely unwillingly. There's no mercy for her as he flicks a tongue over her clit, plunges a tongue inside her as deep as it goes, returns to the nub again – does it again and again and again like it's some secret code meant to break her.

"You like that, huh?" His rough voice is muffled by her cunt, he sounds both parched and wet.

"Hm? Talk to me," he demands an answer although it should be obvious that she's losing her mind from his treatment.

"Yes," she mewls while being spread so crudely wide for him. "I… I love it…"

"Hah. You sound like a little cat," he laughs, pleased, then gets to it again. She's so close now that she can feel the growing waves. Her thighs are not just shaking, they're trembling.

"So pretty and so wet," he comments between the licking and dipping, voice covered with smoke from all the lust. And he's hard again, too: right next to her face, and she could cry actual tears – what if he plans on fucking her too after this? It's too much, she can't even take this, she can't…

But she does.

Her back starts to arch just before the orgasm. She's not weeping yet, but every noise she makes sounds like she's crying her heart out.

"Slow down, slow–down, please…"

She's a one-woman choir of tight pleas. She tries to muffle them by burying her face somewhere in his thighs and musk. The tongue dips in and out like he's a machine and not a man, and the first wave hits unexpectedly, like a searing, white-hot blade.

"A–ah!"

The climax swallows her, she starts grinding against that face without meaning to. He only laughs and buries his nose and tongue deeper into her slickness. The arms around her hold her like iron bars, his breaths hit her along with his tongue like she's strapped to a torture device.

Her cunt is sloppy, and throbbing, and he is a torturer, licks her even when she's lying on top of him in ruin: a devastated, trembling heap of a woman who's lost everything.

"Stop–König, you need to stop…"

Her weak whispers do nothing. His tongue sweeps her from front to back until she's crying on top of him. Frail fingers try to claw his thighs but grasp nothingness.

When he finally relents, he does it with another laugh. Then he gives her a last lick: a total bully, snorts a chuckle when a tremble goes through her entire body from just that single, fat sweep.

"Mmm. That was good. Right?"

"M–mh…"

There are tears in her eyes, but not one comes out. Her pussy throbs and winks with the aftershocks, and his hand moves up and down her back like she's that little cat.

"You're mean," she sobs. Complains.

"Heh… you didn't like it?"

"I did," she sniffs, and his hand moves to caress her thigh.

"I know you did. I know you. Everything about you."

He sounds merciful at last, pats her leg softly.

"Come here. I'll take care of you."

When she turns and crawls back to him, his mask is fully in place. He receives her with open arms and speaks more softly than ever.

"I have to take care of you after. Isn't that so?"

"Yes…"

She holds onto him, because he's the only thing that's solid in her world at this point. His aftercare is the most tender thing she has ever known: her hair is being caressed gently, the tension in her neck and back is soothed with long, loving strokes. He buries his mask in her hair and inhales her after-sex scent like it's a whole offering of incense.

"Angel. You feel like… like it's my birthday."

His statement brings another round of tears to her eyes. Instinct tells her that birthdays might've been the only happy days of the year for this man.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He sounds worried when she's so quiet and timid again. Her heart settles slowly into a warm pool of love, she presses herself against him with fervor, and he squeezes her in turn like she's the most perfect birthday present ever.

"No."

I really needed that.

I need you…

"I will never let you go again," he promises. "Never. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I don't– I don't want you to go."

"Little one. I'm so glad I found you."

He takes her palm and uses it to brush away the hood from his lips. The violent edge is always taken away after sex, and the devouring is gentle, the passion is blunt. His kiss is soft; sweet.

"König…" She's raw and bare in his arms, her adoration reflects back to her from his blues. "Why did you pick me?"

"You're the one who picked me, Engel. I just answered your call."

He takes in the effect this truth has on her, then takes her breath away with another kiss. A small giggle erupts in the lazy afternoon as he threatens to crush her with a bear hug. Her hand steals its way further under the mask: she meets smooth skin and a collection of even smoother bumps.

"Why can't I see your face..?"

"It's not a pretty sight," he sighs. "Father liked to cut me when I was little."

The laziness leaves her body that very instant. The man is detached, distant: as if he's sharing something trivial, the city he grew up in or his favorite subject in school.

She doesn't know whether to feel pity or terror, but what he says next sends even more ice down her spine.

"Now I cut those who are evil."

Everything starts to make perfect sense.

Why he was bullied at school, why people fear him. Why disrespectful, cruel men deserve to be knifed and why women and wives are angels. Why he wears a mask.

It's not sound reasoning, but it is a strategy, perhaps. Survival… A defense mechanism.

And offense is the best defense…

She had been right: this man is incurable, only in ways she could never have guessed.

Afterwards, he shows her his knives.

His room is full of them: combat knives, throwing knives, bowie knives, daggers, bayonets, balisongs, two machetes, a kukri, knives she doesn't even have a name for… There's swords and sticks and a riot shield. There's only one bed, nothing more, not even a nightstand.

And the room is also full of guns.

Assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, handguns; there's scopes, tripods, gloves, gas masks, a ghillie suit, pouches, plate carrier vests, magazines, grenades, even a launcher.

The room is filled with violence.

And she didn't know what she expected.

Some "Hot Gun Babes" wall calendar and a few pocket knives? That he would play by the rules and keep weapons and gear where they were stored instead of in his fucking room?

He gives her his third gift that pairs well with her black dress, or any dress, for that matter. Another knife, but not the kind he kills people with, nor the flimsy kind used for entertainment purposes.

She receives an automatic switchblade, simple but pretty. The double-edged blade looks almost feminine, the way it curves into a sharp, dainty tip. The handle is made of sturdy, polished wood; it's incredibly beautiful and so dark it's nearly black. The knife is only a threat when it's flicked open: all in all a piece that isn’t what it seems.

"Hier. Good little blade. Would take it wherever I go."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Engel."

She kisses him after his gift. She kisses the white scar on his jaw, lifts the mask a bit more, and he doesn't stop her. He doesn't stop her, not even when she finds more keloid cuts and kisses them too.

And he's… simply a man.

There's a human under all that darkness.

It's not a pretty sight, perhaps, but for those scars, she couldn't love him more.

"You're not afraid of me," he sounds surprised when she takes in the violence done to his face with tenderness in her gaze.

"No."

He's speechless. The barricade covering his eyes is permanently broken, and she can see him, all of him.

She falls to her knees and opens his pants, gives the man another round of love. He looks at her with pain and pleasure; a pale, adoring god. Strokes her hair gently while she gets drunk on him like a succubus, wants him to spill that white on her face and all over her pretty black dress.

"Cum on my face, König."

She looks at him with angel eyes while saliva and drool make a rope from her mouth to his throbbing cock. But there is nothing left of the celestial, nothing more than a sweet, fallen angel, and a safe space just for her and him.

"Please…?"

Ruin me.

He hesitates a few seconds, then grabs his cock in an iron fist like it's heavy artillery.

"Whatever my angel wants, she shall have."

. . . . . .

He brings her flowers every morning and fucks her every night.

Sometimes he catches her when she's outside in the sun, reading a book or watching the clouds. He carries her off to the woods and takes her against a tree like they're the first man and woman on the earth after tasting the forbidden apple. They share a few hushed laughs and more than a few desperate kisses under the hood, then he brings her back to earth, straightens her dress like a gentleman before leaving to have a date with death.

He takes her out to eat sometimes, takes her to the shooting range. Calls her his little Wildkatze when she takes a liking to one of his shotguns. He takes her hand when they stroll through the grass and sings an old love song from his homeland. He has a beautiful voice, especially when he forgets he's in company. Or perhaps she's just special like that…

They share a secret language in the base. Whenever he sees her, he draws his knife and throws it in the air ("I miss you") or twirls it around ("The things I will do to you tonight…"). Sometimes, he just places a hand on the handle of the cruel blade. That stands for 'You're mine'.

It's the closest thing to I love you before either of them have spoken the actual words. Or then it's the closest thing to I love you he's capable of.

She gives him a small smile in return, puts a hand in her pocket and fondles the gift she carries everywhere she goes. He knows it's a nod to his secret messages. It stands for 'You're my everything'.

She keeps the switchblade with her even when she's wearing a dress after work. Red this time, the color of passion.

She wants to surprise him: König always comes to her before nightfall, but this time, she wants to go and visit him. She wants him to take her in the middle of black steel and acrid gunpowder while she's dressed in blood.

"Be a darling and fix me a cup of coffee, will you?"

She's stopped by Phillip Graves of all people. Another man who has never paid her any attention. Apparently, red cloth is the same thing for evil men as it is for the enraged animals in bullfighting shows.

She does stop, but she doesn't obey his wishes. She just stares him down like he's filth: another thing she thought she could never do.

I'm not your coffee girl.

"C'mon honey. I've had a bad day." The man only seems to feed off from her silent scorn: like it's some dark game they're playing now. "You could make it so much better."

For fuck's sake…

Here is a man who disrespects everything about her: her position as a cleaner, her value as a woman, her rank as a shy being who is too kind for this world. She's simply a doll who doesn't know how to kill, who doesn't know how to say no. This man however, won't take no for an answer.

"I'm not here to serve coffee," she says with pure ice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I'm off duty, too."

"Thought we could have a little chat, you and I."

"Why?"

"You seem like an interesting woman."

He seems pleased with the fact that for some reason, she's still here, that he has her attention. Thinks he's winning her over with some yucky flirting.

"And wearing a red dress like that…" He tsks, as if it's a crime for a woman to wear red. "Red can drive a man crazy, darling."

She understands why she has been invisible to everyone except König up until this point.

Because deep down, she knows if she would carry herself in full, show herself to the world as the woman she truly is, she would instantly attract love, and power, and hunger, and lust.

"I'm going to go now, sir."

"Tell you what. You serve me that coffee and I'll let you go."

She catches sadism in that stare. And to think she had always found Graves to be somewhat… arrogant, perhaps, but not cruel. The man obviously has a Napoleon complex, but he was not supposed to be sadistic.

How wrong she has been.

She knows she could just get out of the situation by filling that mug the bastard can't fill himself because of some stupid need to have a powerplay moment with an innocent little girl who happens to wear red.

But she doesn't want to. König would have ripped this guy's head off by now.

"I'm off duty," she repeats.

Fuck these men who are always looking for a plaything.

Graves rises from the chair. She's both cold and sweaty by the time he has taken a step, two, three.

But men are a bit stupid sometimes.

They think dresses don't have pockets.

When he takes the fourth and last step, with joy-tinged cruelty in his eyes, she flicks the knife out and open, and simply stabs him in the supposed direction of the organ called heart.

It feels thrilling, pure power: to sink that knife there and catch a man – a soldier of all people – unawares.

So this is what it feels like…

The hurt in his stare doesn't necessarily come from pain, but from the realization that he has made a huge miscalculation.

He looks down at the small knife that will be the end of him, then at her, the woman he thought was just a simple, shy cleaner he could bully into submission.

"You fucking–bitch," he gasps. Weakly.

By the time she pulls the knife out and stabs him again, she's somewhere far away. It hits him in the stomach, and he still doesn't do anything about it, and that's the moment she finds pity, and mercy, and horror.

She turns and stumbles, then runs from the room, unsure if the thump on the floor behind her is real or imagined.

"You fucking whore…!"

The shout is real enough though, and she runs, runs, with a sharp little knife in her hand for what seems like an eternity. That flight is a prolonged medieval torture moment that ends in front of König's door.

Her titan is as calm as ever when he opens the door, and tilts his head when he sees she's breathing fast.

"I think I killed Phillip Graves," she informs with eyes wide.

He blinks, then immediately looks at her hand, the knife, the blood. She goes to him, lifts a hand to his shirt in a desperate attempt to find support. There's not even that much blood. She thought killing would be much messier.

König said it would be messy.

"I… He…"

Her hands won't even shake. All her senses are blown wide and sharp, she sees everything, hears everything, but her hands won't shake.

Is she a psychopath?

"I killed Phillip Graves," she repeats, looks at his chest, clutches at the knife, clutches at his shirt.

The door behind her closes, and König takes hold of her shoulders with warm, warm hands.

"Well done, Engel," he says with such joy, such unbound pride that it snaps her back into reality.

Her jaw starts to tremble, her teeth clatter, she raises her eyes to him…

"He… He wanted coffee, and to talk, and he liked my dress, and–"

"Did he touch you?"

He asks it like it's far more important than what she has just done. She has to shuffle through her memory, but she finds no recalling of Graves laying a single finger on her.

"No."

He was about to. Right?

He was. He threatened me–

"Don't shed tears for him," König says as he looks down at her with mesmerized awe and infatuation. "I can promise you he doesn't deserve them."

Then he hugs her, squeezes her and just holds her, and she's still holding on to the murder weapon.

What will everyone say? What will my friends say?

"My little angel is good with a knife," the titan laughs proudly somewhere high above her.

People have killed each other since the dawn of time.

These things happen.

I'm not the first murderer on this planet.

"My poor little… He was a bad man, Engel. I promise you that."

It's not a big deal. He was a killer too.

He could've died in the field…

"I'm going to jail," she whispers on his shirt. She wants to let go of the knife, but fears it might hurt him or her when it falls.

And she remembers she's not dealing with normal people.

"They will kill me for this," she says with distant realization.

"No they won't," he strokes her hair like she's the best pet he has ever had. "I will take the blame. It was my knife, ja?"

She pushes herself away to look at him, then nods slowly. Her jaw just won't stop trembling.

"Good girl," he pulls her against him again, so fondly that it forces out a whimper.

"Mh."

"Come here," he coos while already holding her so impossibly close. He's surprisingly good at this: at comforting her. Or then it simply feels uncommonly good to have someone sturdy to hang on to while her life and identity are falling apart.

"I'm not sure if he's dead," she whispers when the embrace lingers on. König breaks the hug immediately.

"You didn't confirm the kill?"

She must look like a shy cleaner again, because his resolve is stone cold and solid.

"Engel, I will go and finish it. Where is he?"

She tells, because he would find out anyway. He would start a manhunt and cause even more ruckus.

But when his hand reaches the doorknob, when he's already about to go and finish her crime on top of taking the full blame for it, he turns.

"Do I have your permission?"

Her jaw slowly stops trembling, and a soft sweetness spreads through her heart. The elite soldier, the mass murderer, asks for her permission.

She is more than just special…

"Yes," she whispers, and he gives her a curt nod before storming out the door.

And he's not living in the 21st century.

Instead, he walks in the world of gladiators, rages in a blood-drunk arena, lives in a time where killing was the norm. He solves problems with physical force: it's just that simple. There is no complex society, there are no rules other than the rules of the heart and the loins.

Anyone who disrespects her will get the blade, anyone who might take her away from him will make him do whatever is in his power to prevent it.

And he has the ultimate power: the power of violence.

He comes back surprisingly clean: only a tiny speckle of blood on his camos and some vivid-colored grime on his hands.

"Done."

She nods with solemn silence. She's done, too. Done with everything, because everything's gone. No matter how high the sun is, she will walk in darkness from now on.

"I believe you Engel. He swore he didn't touch you."

And God.

She might be special, but a dying enemy's, a man's word is more worth to him than hers. As if she would try to protect Graves from his wrath by lying.

And Graves wasn't even dead…

But he is now. Probably tortured too to get the truth out about not soiling her with his paws.

"Did anyone see you..?"

"No. But they will know it was me."

It's another gift to her. Another murder. And her purity, intact, in exchange for a compliment, a testimony of his character during a lazy coffee break. For a few kisses on his scars of abuse. For letting him fuck her like a beast.

Her gifts are burning tears, soft flesh and tight little cries…

His gifts are cold, black steel, hot, white cum and a stream of crimson blood.

"Thank you…"

"I would do anything for you." He bows his head, a little nod to inform her that he is hers to command. "Anything you want, just ask."

She's at home in hell, filled with guns and knives and a fallen god. She knows he will take her again tonight, just like he has done every night in the past weeks. In every position imaginable, grunting, howling, panting, laughing how sweet she is, asking if she likes what he is doing to her. She has always whispered yes through tears of hot joy.

Sometimes, they come together and their gazes lock, and it feels like drifting into a starless space with him. He strokes her hair and coats her with whispers of love before they fall asleep. They always curl up together in the cover of womblike darkness, with soft little smiles on their faces, safe from all evil.

"Can you keep me safe…?"

It's a sad little question, but she doesn't feel weak. She knows he is lost in her too: especially when she's wearing a dress the color of blood, especially when she looks at him like he's her God.

"Please keep me safe."

He comes to her carefully, answers her summons. She's pulled into a familiar embrace, and she doesn't even think about Graves anymore: she thinks about whether König will take her on the bed that smells of acid sweat or on the wall next to the gun rack.

"Always, Engel. I promise."

She holds the most powerful weapon in her tiny little hand. A dark, fallen titan who has risen from the depths of the earth to pledge himself to her, body and soul, while her innocent little dresses flutter in the wind and make everyone believe she's a victim. But she doesn't feel sorry.

Because it's just like he said.

They belong together, she and him.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine #just friends #just friends fic

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sex-storytime · 4 months

Text

Best Friend

The door was unlocked when I reached the front of the new house. It was small, very small for a family of five, but I was thankful my best friend hadn't moved away. We had been friends since the first day of school and, to be honest, I had nobody else.

“Sophie?” I called out, having been invited over but not wanting to just barge into her house.

"It’s open, Jeff. Come in." Came her sing song reply, “I’m in my room, first door at the top of the stairs…” she continued, clearly exerting herself in some way.

I walked up the stairs to see the bedroom door was open and my best friend, Sophie, was lying on the floor. She was on her stomach, wearing only a t-shirt and panties. She had a pillow under her groin, folded at the corner. She held herself in a backwards arch, like doing a cobra pose in yoga. Her body trembled with effort. Her cute, round face was cherry red. Her light blue eyes glazed over and oddly empty.

What she was doing completely blew my mind. I'd been lost in my own world, walking down the hall, when Sophie said my name once more. It was a hot day, summer was just getting started, and I was already suffering under the sad reality that the house didn't have air conditioning. My minimal outfit of a t-shirt and mesh shorts felt like a full, fur coat.

"You should… Try this," she gasped, "Feels really good." She took a deep breath and collapsed flat on the floor. "Fuck." The word slipped out of her. Her long, golden blonde hair pooled around her head.

I stared at her as she lost herself for a moment. My friend's skimpy outfit revealed way more of her curvy body and tan skin than I was used to seeing. Her breasts looked particularly large in her baby blue v-neck. Her full butt was similarly flattered by her yellow, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie came back to consciousness. "Didn’t you hear me? Seriously, Jeff, come over here," she said, an edge of annoyance in her voice.

Tentatively, I stepped inside her doorframe.

"What's up?" I asked, playing dumb.

As a young man, the same age as Sophie, I knew what masturbation looked like, but I'd never seen anyone do it that way with a pillow. I was still a virgin and I knew Sophie was too. I certainly wasn't prepared for Sophie to openly share something so intimate with me.

Sophie and I had always been close. Unlike our friends who seemed to be suffocated by their close relationships -- fighting each other for air -- Sophie and I both basked in our shared spaces. We were playmates as kids and confidants as teens. I told my best friend nearly everything and had an easy expectation that she would do the same.

But we weren't, you know… Like this!

It was awkward when we watched a movie, and a sex scene came on. I felt uncomfortable helping fold Sophie's underwear when we did the laundry. Sophie had a nice body because she was super curvy and stuff. But I didn't, like, sneak on her in the shower or ogle at her bathing suit.

We were, you know, people. Until that random afternoon when my best friend called me into her bedroom while she was grinding her pussy against a pillow.

"Come on, we need to do this together. Try this with me," Sophie said. She wiggled her butt purposefully, clearly starting her process all over again.

"You mean, like, lying on the ground… pretending to…?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Sophie said. She looked up at me, her face pink and sweaty with exertion. "You put a pillow down. And you lie on top of it. Then you kind of press down. You know? Feels awesome. It’s not sex, Jeff!"

I can't say why I listened. It should have been weird -- OK, it was weird -- but for whatever reason I treated it more like my best friend was inviting me to try a new game or watch a movie. Gingerly, I stepped into her bedroom. Like me, Sophie was a bit of a geek. She had a flatscreen TV with a couple consoles attached. Her tan bedroom walls had posters from Breath of the Wild and Animal Crossing. Her room was a peaceful, welcoming place.

But in the moment, it felt almost foreboding. Like the air itself was all charged up. As soon as I stepped inside, I was hit with the scent of Sophie's honey-sweet perfume mixed with something else; instinctively familiar.

"Grab the one from my bed," Sophie said, breathily.

I took the pillow -- a sad, floppy, lime green thing whose filling had fled long ago -- and dropped it on the ground. I fluffed the pillow as best I could, then lay down on top of it. I adjusted myself till I had my genitals in what seemed like the right place.

"There you go," Sophie said, "Now just..." Instead of saying it, she did it. Arched herself again. Her wide hips swiveled slightly back and forth on the pillow. Again, I became very aware of her body. Her broad shoulders and long arms. Large breasts and bubble butt. Pretty face and light, sparkling sapphire eyes.

I tried to mirror the blonde teen. I pressed down into the pillow and wiggled a little. And, amazingly -- despite the fact that we were working with very different equipment -- I could kind of see what Sophie was getting at. Like catching a glimpse of a mirage from the far side of the desert.

There were a few problems that kept me from getting closer, however. One, the pillow made things too soft. For Sophie, the cushion gave her something to rub against. For me though, I got the sense that I needed something firmer. Honestly, the bare floor would probably have been fine!

But, ironically, the other problem was that I was massively turned on. The smell of my best friend’s pheromones… that agonizing look of ecstasy on her face… my penis erect and throbbing. Everything around me -- Sophie, what she was doing, what she invited me to do -- had led to the inevitable reaction. At any other time, an erection was the perfect way to start getting myself off. But not like this. Some instinctual part of me knew that if my cock was softer, it would be easier to press against the ground and, theoretically, might feel nice.

I looked over at Sophie. Unintentionally, we'd ended up facing each other. Quite close. I could see every detail of Sophie's face, screwed up with effort. She was clearly building toward another release. She clenched, held, then flopped in a strained, desperate rhythm. Over and over, like an odd kind of exercise.

I stayed in place, just lightly pressing down. There was the distant sensation that maybe something could be there, but I knew I wouldn't be able to reach it in the moment. Instead, I sort of teased myself while I watched Sophie take herself down the path to pleasure.

"Nothing?" Sophie asked, suddenly aware that I was staring at her.

"Well… Kinda?" I said, "I get the feeling it might work if some things were different. But not right now."

"Oh, OK," Sophie said, clearly disappointed. "That's too bad. I'm glad you tried it though."

"Me too," I said.

Carefully, I got off the floor. I tossed Sophie's pillow back on her bed. Sophie was still humping her pillow when I left.

I wandered away, feeling shell shocked. My penis was hard and my testicles tinged. I wanted nothing more than to bring myself to an inevitable release… but this was Sophie! My best friend! Unable to remember why I had ventured over to see her in the first place, I headed back home.

________

About an hour later, I was in my bedroom -- sweating my balls off while playing online -- when the thought popped into my head.

I could be doing it right now.

It was a random idea, borne of nothing, as if my subconsciousness had been chewing on this for a while and finally spit it out.

I put the controller to the side. Looked down at the grey carpet. My bedroom door was shut. The distraction of my repeated virtual deaths meant my dick was soft -- exactly where I needed it to be. I slid off my chair and dropped to the ground.

So, I took one of the two pillows from below my head, and I placed it on the centre of the bed. I then removed my blanket, pulled down my pants and released my aching penis free into the coolness of air. At that moment, my penis was like a solid stick dancing to and fro as if it was attached to a spring....

I then quickly climbed over my pillow and placed my penis on its lower edge side. I then covered my naked ass (and most of me, up to my eyes) again with the blanket. Like Sophie had shown me before, I pressed down with my crotch and arched my back. Like lightning, there it was. This was a very different experience than I was used to. This wasn’t like masturbation.

I lay still on my stomach for a few minutes, so as to let my penis feel the softness of the silky pillow.. The feel of the pillow below my steaming hot manhood was like cold water poured over ice... It had such a cooling feel. My body began to writhe, pulling instinctual primal urges from my deep subconceous. My body was trying to re-enact intercourse for the first time.

I was only dimly aware of the way I had been holding the topmost pillow, cradling it as one might a slender lover, the bottom edge trapped beneath my belly and coming against the glans of my turgid organ. Where before I would naturally reach down to clutch my manhood, my hips took over of their own accord, pushing my hardness further into the yielding cushion of the pillow.

Without much thought or effort, I turned flat on my stomach, my erection now lying between the mattress and the pillow. Sophie was right, it felt rather good to be compressed on all sides like that, to be enveloped in such softness. Moving my hips, I thought about how Sophie looked, her tight blue top and those pretty panties she wore. For the first time in my life I saw my best friend as a woman… I wanted so much to get between those slender thighs of hers, and break the final taboo between us.

This masturbation was vastly different from simply stroking off with my hand. Here was full body involvement. My toes digging into the mattress, legs taut, I rocked back and forth in the instinctive unthinking movements of copulation. Hands clutching the bed sheets, I gasped and grunted in a blatantly vocal way, the ecstatic pleasure rising along with my pulse.

Wet trails of pre-cum stained the pillowcase in advance of the inevitable orgasm. No longer in the vague mist of waking dream, I desperately held onto the fantasy of Sophie writhing beneath him, putting aside the nagging concern about what he was actually doing. I felt deliriously out of control, a sensation I never had while teasing and arousing himself by hand. The trigger of my climax was tantalizingly close, and I pushed even harder to tip himself over. I imagined thrusting deep inside Sophie’s virgin pussy, finally despoiling her, making her my own with this most intimate yet violent act.

It was more work than stroking myself off, but it also felt fantastic in a slightly different way. Because I was lying on my stomach, in some ways it felt more like fucking, because I could imagine someone under me, feeling the same building pleasure.

Just when I felt myself begin to tire, I reached my apex. It had been at least a month since I had cum and my sperm was boiling up inside my balls. I was getting closer and closer to my orgasm and my penis felt impossibly huge. My balls tightened up at the base of my cock. I felt the building pleasure at the end of my penis, and the draining sensation in my thighs. My glans felt so big, and I felt that fullness at the tip, the need to release.

With muscles tensing all at once, my orgasm overtook me, soon thick gouts of semen would be spilling from my body. I knew I wasn't going to be able to pull out of my makeshift vagina and as my testicles contracted, releasing a heavy load of sperm, the velvety caress of the pillow sheet triggered the start of my orgasm. As I felt the immense pleasure at the end of my penis, I felt my semen run up the length of my shaft. "Oh Sophie!" I groaned.

I felt my thrusts become more urgent and my cock was so hard, ripe and ready. My breath grew ragged, and my bulging penis grew even bigger between the pillows, the massive bulbous head was thrust deep inside and every inch of my massive cock was throbbing violently, pulsing and pumping.

When I went over the edge it felt like my cock was going to burst… then the spunk rocketed up from my balls and launched violently out of the end of my sensitive glans. The first spurt felt like my entire life force left my body. The feeling was immense, my heart pounded in my chest as my body convulsed and then it felt like I was spurting the entire contents of my balls out of the end of my penis and deep between the pillows. My muscles spasmed, my cock throbbed, and I let my sticky seed jet into my sheets in ever dwindling volleys. The pleasure overwhelmed me. The effort to reach that place had been so much. The orgasm was a wondrous final reward.

Even after the initial euphoria had faded, I lay breathless on the pillows, my softening cock soaking in the sticky wetness of my spent passion. Too soon the spell was over. I rose onto my knees silently cursing the mess I had made to my bedding. It would be one thing if it were just my sheets, but to pump all that slimey man goo into the pillow where I laid my head at night. This would need some tactful cleaning!

I lay on the floor for a while, smelling my carpet. Muscles aching like I'd done an hours' worth of exercise. I drifted in and out of a strange, altered consciousness. Only dimly aware of the world around me until I knew I needed to hide the evidence of my ejaculation. I headed to the shower, still consumed with what I had done. Washing the goo from my genitals, I continued to stroke and caress myself according to habit.

I suppose I was, by most definitions, a well cut young man. Lean but not skinny, one would have thought that the last thing a dark haired college student needed to do was jerk off in order to achieve sexual fulfillment. In fact, I had spent so much time with Sophie that friends thought we were actually dating. I had never even considered it and laughed it off… but now?

I loved Sophie like a friend, and while I had met girls that were willing to be sexual, none had captured my heart like this -stroking my hardening cock under the warm flow of water in the shower.

________

I met up with Sophie several times over the next week or two and everything was strangely back to how it had been. Nothing needed to be said and we continued our friendship without any complications. The following weekend I was invited over for dinner, as I often had been, with Sophie and her family. It wasn’t anything special, her Mom had grabbed Chinese on the way back from work and we all loaded up our plates. They had a tiny, circular dining room table that her dad had found at a yard sale down the street. It was big enough for four, but not six, so Sophie and I set out stack tables in the nearby living room and ate on the couch.

For such a large family -- Her Mom, Dad, her two sisters and Sophie - dinner was upsettingly silent. I remembered how their meals used to be, all of us carousing around the big table, talking excitedly about what had happened that day. Here, though, the clatter of utensils and plates overwhelmed whatever urge we might have had to say anything to each other. And what was there to talk about, really?

I waited till everyone seemed truly lost in their own worlds, then I elbowed Sophie. She turned and glared at me.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I did it," I said, under my breath, "I made it work. In my bedroom."

"Oh, awesome," Sophie said, her face shifting from slightly irritated to fully excited. Her eyes lit up like bright blue fire. "How was it?"

I looked down at the ground, shyly. I guess some things still felt strange to admit to Sophie.

"Nice," Sophie said, and gave my shoulder a playful shove.

After dinner, her siblings left to go hang out with their respective friends, leaving Sophie and me to watch TV with her parents. It's not that we didn't have our own social groups because we did. But most of our friends had gone away to University, while we were still local so we had fewer social options.

I suppose we could have gone out, the two of us, but it was awkward to wander around our old hometown. The thought of running into people, of having to explain that we were just friends -- I don't think either of us was anticipating that interaction. So, instead, we stayed on the couch and watched TV.

It didn't take long, however, for her Mom and Dad to shuffle off to sleep, and so we found ourselves sitting together on the beat-up couch. Almost close enough to be cuddling.

"You want to do it again?" Sophie asked.

"Huh?" I asked. I looked over at Sophie. She was wearing a long, light pink, sleep shirt that went down to her knees -- hiding her ample curves. She gave me a winking smile, like she was telling a dirty joke.

"Do you want to?" Sophie asked again. Suddenly, I realised what she meant.

"Here? Now?"

"Upstairs," Sophie said. She didn't wait for my response, just stood up and glided out of the living room. I mean, was I truly going to sit and watch TV by myself at that point?

Back in Sophie's bedroom, I found her already lying splayed on the floor, pillow strategically placed under her. She had lifted her sleep shirt up to her waist, exposing a pair of egg blue, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie grunted hello, then ground into the ground. "Do you need a pillow?" she asked, throatily.

"Nah," I said. I lay down on the floor. I could feel myself stiffening already, and I knew I needed to take the opportunity before the act became impossible.

Sophie's hardwood floors felt even better than my carpet. We were facing each other again. Hearing Sophie's gulping breaths, feeling her body tremble nearby, all of it conspired to take my experience from a solid 7 to a tremendous 10. Moments later, I was shooting hot seed into my shorts.

"Did you just cum?" Sophie asked. She looked about to hit the precipice, herself. Her cheeks were pinker than her shirt.

"Yeah."

She was going to town like there was no tomorrow, going faster and faster and never letting up...and the looks on her face were priceless!.. her eyes rolling, biting her tongue, I could tell she was totally unaware of her surroundings and I wished I had grabbed my phone to record her ministrations. I could tell she was about to cum... her body tensed up, her face was full of anticipation, and she was thrusting her hips relentlessly against her worn out pillow.

"Aaaaaeeeeeeiiiiiii," Sophie was suddenly overtaken by her own orgasm. It had only been a mtter of seconds since I had climaxed and I watched in amazement as my best friend had the most explosive orgasm of her young life! She folded and shook and jerked for at least two minutes before rolling over beside me, twitching gently.

Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. "Fuck, that was good…."

Sophie picked up her head and met my eyes. Her look was dreamy, distant. Yet there was something focused beneath the surface. Like she was making a decision.

We shared a goofy grin.

"That's it for you?" Sophie asked.

"Pretty much," I said. I had no doubt I could squeeze another orgasm out of myself. But the rubbing took a lot out of me. Something about it was so much more taxing than the usual stroking off.

"Well, OK," Sophie said, "I'll see you in the morning?"

I knew, right then, that she wasn't making the usual, trite statement. It was an appointment.

A promise.

________

Sometimes it takes a while to settle into a new habit. Retraining your body, your mind, to incorporate a different routine. That was not the case for Sophie and me. We were barely past our first day of this and already our fresh tradition felt expected. As if we had been doing it our entire lives and would continue to do so forever more.

Sophie called it pressing and so that's how I came to think of our activity. It wasn't always at the same time or even every day, but we managed to have regular regroups. One morning we might wake up, press together, and get ready for the day. Or after lunch, we'd have an afternoon press in between doing chores or playing games or whatever. And if we missed both of those (or were having a particularly 'active' day) we'd go for a press after dinner, right before exhaustedly wandering home to our beds.

Outside of our little meetups, everything else was normal. We weren't flirty with each other. We didn't even talk about what we were doing. We always wore clothes when we did it -- Sophie with some sort of shirt and panties, me in my t-shirt and shorts. We met up, pressed, and went back to our lives. Like all of this was happening in some separate, bubble universe.

The way everything became casual, however, was also nearly our downfall. Three times, with three separate people, we were almost caught.

The first was my fault. It happened a little over a week after we'd started our escapades. Her family had finished dinner and was watching TV. It was one of those rare evenings when all o them were home, and Sophie and I found ourselves sitting on the floor, in front of the couch.

Sophie turned to me, mid-episode, and cocked her eyebrow. She subtly jutted her chin. That was all I needed to know. I gave her a single nod.

It was on.

A moment later, Sophie said she was feeling tired and went to her bedroom. I waited what felt like a good amount of time (but was probably only two minutes) and followed her upstairs.

I found Sophie already lying on her pillow. She gave me a big, goofy grin as I lay down next to her. The process of this had made me start to chub up, but I'd learned to (literally) push through such things. We humped the ground together, the sounds of boring TV news playing in the distance.

There was this strange intimacy to our act, stolen in little moments. For the most part, I stayed within myself, engaged in my own fantasies. But then I would hear Sophie make a little gasp as she hit the right spot. Or I would grunt with the exertion of the act. Sometimes we'd accidentally bump each other -- arms or legs, never anything more. It was strangely reassuring, an encouragement of the illicit actions we were sharing.

"What are you guys doing?"

I froze. I slowly turned my head to the source of the sound. Her younger sister, Lauren, was standing in the doorway. In my haste, I'd forgotten to close Sophie's door. Damn!

Lauren was 17, mousy and thin, with bright red hair (the same colour as her Mom’s) that hung almost to her waist. She was wearing her usual workout outfit -- a tanktop and yoga pants. She eyed us, confused, like someone searching for an obvious word but unable to find it in the moment.

"Nothing," Sophie said, like this was a perfectly satisfying answer. She didn't even get off the pillow. Just spun around and stared up at our younger sister. "Go away."

Lauren did not do that. Instead, she stayed at the door, narrowing her eyes like she was processing everything.

"It's fine, Lauren," I said, the panic rising in my throat. "We're hanging out."

"We're planning your birthday gift," Sophie said. This was a particularly bad lie, since we were doing nothing that looked like planning. And Lauren's 18th birthday was still a good two months away.

But while her youngest sister was super sweet, she wasn't very sharp. She wasn't a dope, just far too trusting. The kind of girl who couldn't understand that people might lie to her for their own benefit.

"Oh!" she said, brightly, "OK." And quickly scampered away.

I wasn't going to argue with our good luck. I got off the floor, gently closed Sophie's door, and returned to what we were doing.

The second time we almost got caught, though, was on Sophie (somewhat). It was a Saturday afternoon, a week or so later, and she found me watching TV in the living room. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a pink lettering on it, as well as a pair of green sweat-shorts. Her breasts and bottom seemed liable to break out of both at any minute.

Sophie gave me our signal and I got off the couch. But instead of leading me back to her bedroom, Sophie shook her head.

"Here," she said. That one word was shocking, for all that it implied. I glanced around the room. Right out in the open? We were sure to be seen.

"No one's home," Sophie said, "They're all out doing errands or whatever." She grabbed a pillow off the couch -- blue, small, and squarish -- and dropped it on the floor.

"Are you sure?"

Sophie gave me a chastising look. You'd think that would be hard based on how she was lying on her groin, getting ready to fuck the hell out of that poor cushion. But, somehow, my best frind still managed to look disdainful. I shrugged and dropped next to her.

I have to admit, changing our surroundings did something to the whole experience. I'm not saying we got bored of the usual stuff, but after weeks of it, there was a sort of numbness to the routine of it all. Doing it in another place -- a room where we spent so much time with the rest of our family -- gave everything a sharper edge.

I went over the top first. Unlike Sophie's peak, mine required some post-orgasm maintenance. So, I got up to go find a tissue. Fortunately, my splooge had mostly stayed in my shorts, though I had a drop or two on my leg.

As I went toward the bathroom, however, I felt a hand on my chest. I stopped in place. Standing in front of me, right at the top of the stairs, was Sophie’s oldest sister, Jessica. Her twenty-three-year-old sibling had obviously seen everything. So much for an empty house.

Jessica raised her eyebrow at me in a way that was totally different than Sophie's come-hither gesture. It was more like drawing a dagger.

"Tell me you two aren't doing what I think you're doing," Jessica said. Even though it was a weekend, she was dressed in a nice, pink blouse and a dark navy skirt. She had her auburn hair tied back in a severe bun. She'd done her makeup, as well, making her angular features appear almost devastatingly beautiful. I felt very much like a turd she'd found on the stairs. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like," Jessica repeated.

I paused. I didn't know what to say, except to parrot it back. "It isn't what it looks like," I said. Like that was going to make a difference.

Jessica's green eyes, remarkably similar to Sophie's, hardened.

"It's not," I said.

"OK," Jessica said. I braced for the impact. Instead, her oldest sister stared me down for another moment, then spun on her heel and walked away.

Later, I told Sophie about it, expecting her to freak out. Instead, she laughed.

"Don't sweat it," my blonde, best friend said, a smile still playing on her cute face. "Jessica's not going to do anything."

"I don't know," I said, "She seemed pretty angry. She could tell your parents we wre having sex together!”"

"We weren't and Jessica's always angry," Sophie said. I couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry she caught us. I didn't realise she was home. But Jessica's not the tattling type. She's happy to ignore us. Trust me. We just need to be more careful."

Our last brush with danger came soon after. It was by far the most chaste, yet it felt like the riskiest moment of all. Sophie and I had spent the day out and were headed upstairs to my bedroom for our evening session. But as we were about to go into my room, my Mom called after us. Sophie and I shared a nervous look. We walked back down to the kitchen.

My Mom was waiting there for us, hands on her hips, in standard disapproval position. Our kitchen was so tiny, it made my mother look like a giant. Even more imposing than usual.

"You two are up to something," my Mom said. Her voice was not kind.

The sink was running behind her, stacked to the brim with dishes. A reminder of yet another indignity we'd had to endure with our house: it didn't even have a dishwasher.

"We're hanging out," I said, shrinking under my mom's pointed interrogation.

Mom shook her head. "It's more than that. I see you two sneaking off at all hours. Always in your room with the door shut. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing," Sophie said, "Like Jeff told you, we're just hanging out. Playing games. You know."

Mom's glare deepened, like Jessica's had done. Her eyes narrowed, a mirror of Lauren's from earlier.

"You're up to something," she said, "And I don't like it. Your father and I, this family, we're all going through a lot right now. It's bad enough as is and if you go and do something stupid to make it worse, even the tiniest, littlest bit..."

"We're not," Sophie said, "We won't. I promise."

Mom's look didn't soften, but she let out a deep breath. "Fine," she said. She waved us out of the kitchen but stared at me. "You're old enough that you don't have to live with me anymore. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior if you want to stay under this roof?"

"Of course," Sophie said with a look of horror on her face.

"Understood," I said.

We escaped back to my bedroom. That night's session felt strained and anxious. Rushed and unfulfilling. But we still did it.

And that was the larger issue. For all those close calls, for all the very real consequences that came with them, we never stopped what we were doing. We didn't step back or rethink our actions. You'd think that with everything that had gone on, with every warning sign we'd passed, that we'd learn our lesson.

Instead, we escalated.

________

"Do you ever think about stuff?" Sophie asked, "You know, when we're doing this?"

We were both post-peak, lying back like bomb victims on Sophie's hardwood floor. It was surprisingly comfortable after a good, hard climax. The room sank of cum.

"You mean, like, other people?" I asked.

"Yes," Sophie said, "I mean, you're not focusing on how you're making it with my bedroom floor, are you?"

"Of course not," I said.

"So… do you picture anyone specific?" Sophie asked.

"Ahhhh… well," I mumbled, thinking of how hard I had cum the first timeI had thought of Sophie, "No. No one specific. It's kind of random. Just 'a girl,' you know?"

Sophie rolled onto her side, giving me a dubious look.

But I recognized a no-win situation when I saw one. If I said I thought about Sophie, I was an sex-obsessed pervert. But if I said some other girl, then I risked hurting my best friend's feelings. So, I turned to my only defense, and turned the question back to Sophie.

"What about you?" I asked, "Do you ever think about anyone?"

"Not really," Sophie said in a mocking voice, "Just, you know, 'a boy.'"

There was a heavy pause. Each of us waited for the other to crack under the weight of it.

"We’re friends aren��t we? We promised your Mom we wouldn’t be anything else. So come on?" Sophie asked, her voice suddenly quiet and questioning. “Tell me who you fantasise about?”

“No way!”

“You’re useless!”

"You started it," I replied. Oh, so very mature.

"Fine," Sophie said, with an exasperated sigh. "There is this one guy at school. He's kinda tall with dark hair. Muscular. Sometimes I picture him."

"This guy have a name?" I asked.

"Probably?" Sophie said, "I've never talked to him. I see him in class sometimes."

"It'd be weird if he didn't have a name," I said, "Like, if he was called Random Hotguy or whatever."

"Yeah, Let’s call him Randy," Sophie said.

"Well, that seems appropriate," I said.

I played at being coy, but I couldn't help but feel a little hurt as Sophie described a crush who was almost the exact opposite of my skinny, short, light-haired self. I knew it was stupid to feel jealous. For one, she was Sophie, we were friends and nothing more. She was right, we played together, we weren’t ever going to be lovers. My Mom had nothing to worry about, this little blonde haired hottie was completely off limits. For another, I'd literally forced her to say something. So, what did I expect, exactly?

But that didn't stop me from seething in the moment. And so, I felt the need to take some measure of revenge.

"There is this one girl," I said.

"Do tell," Sophie said.

"She's, um, got brown hair. Brown eyes. Short. She's skinny but in kind of a cute way."

"And where did you find this alluring coat rack?" Sophie asked. Her face was turning sourer by the second.

"You know, around," I said.

"Like around my house maybe?" Sophie asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, you're obviously talking about Lauren," Sophie said, “I see the way she looks at you. You’re rubbish at flirting by the way.”

"I'm not perving on your little sister," I retorted.

Sophie rolled her eyes at me.

"Fine. Maybe a little bit," I said.

Sophie shook her head, dismissively, “You always had a thing for redheads and now my little sister is coming of age… she’s small, freckled and has the figure of a boy!”

"She does not!" I gasped. "What's your problem with Lauren? She's your sister, isn't she? Family are supposed to support each other."

"I just think you could do better than that jailbait," Sophie said. I realised it, suddenly. Sophie wasn't playing around. Her feelings were actually, honestly hurt. As if she hadn't done the same thing to me moments before.

"Well, what about Randy?" I asked. "I mean, the guy doesn't even have a real name. Don't you think you should set your sights a little higher?"

Sophie went quiet. She pursed her lips. The air in the room felt thick and heavy. Filled with anger and resentment. More than either of us could carry. After weeks of unbreakable buoyancy, this one silly conversation had popped us both.

I started to get off the floor, but Sophie stopped me.

"There is this one other guy," she said. Her cheeks went a little red.

I realised Sophie was making a peace offering and, fortunately, I was smart enough to accept it. I let myself be held in place.

"He's really cute, kinda handsome," Sophie said, "Light brown hair. Nice body." She ran her eyes up and down me, like punctuating her point.

I let out a loud sigh and lay back down on the floor. "Seriously?" I asked.

"I mean, you're right next to me, and my little sister isn't blind or stupid," Sophie said. "You're turning into a man, so it's kind of hard not to think… of you. I see your face. Your eyes. You're actually quite attractive, you know that?"

"Even though I'm short and skinny with messed up hair, and have an actual real name?" I said.

"Even though," Sophie said.

"Well, as long as we're being honest, there is this other girl I sometimes think about," I said, "She's very pretty. Gorgeous, honestly. And her body is like, wow. She's really hot."

Sophie looked down at herself, dubiously. "Not too fat?" she asked.

"Oh my God, no, she's got curves her sister would kill for!" I said immediately. "She's practically fucking perfect."

"Wow," Sophie said. She breathed it out in a little sigh. Almost like one of the sounds she'd make when she was about to peak.

"Anyway, I know I shouldn't but..."

"It's OK," Sophie said, "I get it.

"Like you said, it's hard not to," I said, "In the moment. You're there, you know? Feeling you bump against me. Hearing your little noises. It's kinda awesome, actually."

"Kind of?" Sophie asked, but I could see she was teasing. "You sure you wouldn't rather a certain skinny redhead?"

"I think I might prefer blondes," I said. A pause. "Are you OK with that? I know it's wrong and all, but."

"I'm fine with it," Sophie said. She put her hand on mine. Just that little touch felt electric. "As long as you're OK with me doing it, too."

"Yeah," I said, "Yes. I'm OK with that."

Everything seemed settled. The next day went on as normal. Even that night, when we held our regular pressing session, it was like nothing had changed.

But when Sophie reached her apex, she gasped out. "Oh Jeff," she said, "So good."

Then dropped limp to the floor.

________

And so, we started talking.

Again, never outside our little meetups. We didn't get flirty in the kitchen or tease each other in front of the TV. But when we'd press, it was like one long running conversation. Whether we were talking to ourselves or communicating with each other I can't say for sure. But we became downright chatty as we made ourselves cum.

"Oh, that's the spot. Right there," Sophie said.

"Fuck that's nice," I said, "So good."

"Gonna cum... So close," Sophie said.

"Ah... cumming..." I said.

Nothing else changed.

There were times when I wished for more. I imagined Sophie taking her shirt off, her pert tits trembling as she took herself to paradise. I thought about grabbing her hand when I came. Or, for that matter, us giving up on the floor and grinding against each other.

These were passing thoughts, fast fantasies, that usually disappeared immediately post-press. Despite our daily actions, the things we said to each other, I kept Sophie filed safely away as my best friend. I was unable to imagine ever storing her under a different category. Our enduring friendship actually meant more to me than sex.

Summer stretched languid around us. Her Dad, Mom, and her olde4 sister Jessica all got busy with work. Little Lauren disappeared all day to be with her friends. Dinners with her family were few and far between so Sophie and I mostly hung out with each other.

The next step was probably inevitable.

"Fuck that feels so good," Sophie said as she pressed down on her pillow. We were back in my bedroom, doing what we did best -- getting ourselves off while we got on with each other.

"You like that?"

"Oh yes," Sophie said, "Oh Jeff you have no idea… How good this makes me feel."

"I'd be damn better than a pillow," I said.

"And I'm sure I'm much more than a floor," Sophie said, "Do… do you want that? To… feel my body -- AH! -- beneath you?"

"So soft and warm," I said, "Your breasts. That ass."

"So hard," Sophie said, "Aching. Thrusting. OH! Oh fuuuuck. I'm getting close. Are…are you gonna let… me cum for you?"

"Please. I'm there, too. Let go, Sophie. I want to see it. Feel it. Feel you cum."

"Oh OHHH! Ah! AHHH! Oh yes! FUCK YES!" Sophie shook. Shuddered.

As if her orgasm sparked mine, the pleasure overwhelmed me. Hot spurts shooting down my leg.

"Oh, fuck that really turned me on," Sophie panted.

She rolled over and kissed me on the top of the head.

It was shocking, that sudden contact. Like another wall had been broken through. I swear I could smell the dusty, chipped plaster as Sophie busted through yet another barrier.

I rolled over to look at her. I'm sure she saw the shock in my face. Instead, Sophie shrugged.

"Just thanking you," Sophie said.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"If you say so," Sophie said, and she winked my way.

I started to get up. Flopped back. Like I said, that hardwood floor was incongruently comfy after an explosive orgasm. I imagined a pointy rock might feel the same at that point, honestly. That was the thing about cumming, everything around me felt soft and welcoming. My mind, however, became far sharper.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Again, Sophie shrugged.

"No, seriously, what is this?"

"Fun," Sophie said, as if it were obvious.

"So, we keep doing it," I said.

"At least till we go back to University," Sophie said, "Why not? You have something better to do?"

I had to concede that I did not. The friends that I might want to talk to had all gone off to their lives. The people I very much did not want to see were right outside our front door. It was too easy to feel trapped by a bunch of circumstances that were out of my control.

Sophie seemed to be feeling the same thing. She sat down next to me, leaning back on her bed frame.

"Look, the past year has been so hard," Sophie said, "Dad losing his job. Then losing the house. Our new place... I know it's where we live but it's not home. Even the smells are so unfamiliar. I don't like it there. I don't like this. It sucks for you too, right?"

"It's fucking miserable," I said.

"Right," Sophie said, "And this is just... Look, I'm not saying it's my life or anything. It's a distraction. But it's kind of keeping me sane right now. So, I don't want to stop. We'll move on when it's time. I know we will."

"That makes sense," I said, "Honestly, it's helping me, too."

"We'll reach a certain point," Sophie said, "It'll be easy. One day we'll stop doing it and it won't even feel different. You'll look back and realise 'oh, it's been so long since we did it.'"

"Just like that?"

"Don't you think so?" Sophie said, "Besides it's not like we're doing anything serious here. We're not even touching. We're not being stupid. We're ot lovers or anything."

I thought back to that kiss on the head Sophie had given me. For a moment, I realized that we were both deceiving ourselves. But that's the thing about a mirage. It's all about how badly you want to see it.

“Just friends.”

________

The summer got hotter. Sophie's Mom talked a big game about buying some window air conditioners, but they never materialized. Sophie and I, already down to t-shirts and shorts, were running out of ways to stay cool. I knew it was bad when Sophie said it was even too hot to press.

I reached the breaking point one afternoon when the knob of my bedroom door melted off in my hand. I wish I was exaggerating, but there I was, standing stupidly in the hallway, with a broken knob in my hand and no way to get back into my bedroom.

Instead, I went in search of Sophie. I headed to hers and discovered Sophie lazing on the couch, stretched out and miserable. She had on a pair of red mesh shorts and a white, ribbed tank. Her top was slightly pulled up, uncovering her cute tummy.

"This house sucks!" she said, writhing in discomfort.

I held up my doorknob as evidence.

"What's that?" she asked.

I explained and she giggled, then groaned. "Oh my God, your knob has melted off. I really hoped I might get some more use out of it."

"Funny. Well, we could go out," I ventured.

"It's hotter out there than it is here," Sophie said, "Let's watch a movie. About something cold."

"Do you think that'll help?" I asked.

But Sophie was already surfing the screen. Finally, she settled on some old rom-com called The Cutting Edge about competitive ice skating. It was barely watchable, and it didn't help me feel any cooler. But Sophie seemed happy, and it was too hot to argue. It's not like I could go back to my bedroom.

About halfway through -- the female lead kept saying the words 'toe pick' -- Sophie paused the movie.

"I want to take my shirt off," she said, in a strangely matter of fact tone.

"OK?" I gave Sophie an odd look.

"You can take yours off, too," Sophie said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," I said, "It's a little different when I do it."

"Look, it's really hot," Sophie said, seemingly unaware of the double entendre. "And I'm super uncomfortable. Seeing me in a bra won't even make the top ten of things you've witnessed from me lately. So, I'm going to do this and you're going to be OK with it. OK?"

Oh, I was way more than OK in that moment. Did I mention Sophie's chest was amazing? It was much more than that. Sophie had such perky breasts. I knew it, despite the fact that I'd never seen more than the shape of them under her shirt. So yeah, no, I was more than alright with Sophie taking her shirt off on the couch. If anything, I was sad that she had already set the limit at leaving her bra on.

But this was weird right? Tell me I'm not strange for thinking it was weird that my best friend was going to take out her titties in the middle of the living room in front of me, as casually as pouring herself a drink. She wasn't even my girlfriend!]

Yet, no matter how I felt about it, Sophie was doing it. Sophie reached down for the bottom of her tank and pulled it over her head. You'd think she was ripping off a band-aid, not exposing her twin holiest of holies to her besotted childhood friend. But Sophie kept it casual.

I more than made up for Sophie's lack of concern, however, with my own reaction. I gaped. I gawped. Sophie sat back on the couch in nothing but a lacy black bra and a pair of tiny, scarlet shorts. You'd think she'd just showed me the mysteries of the universe. And, to some extent, she truly had.

There are no words to describe what Sophie had revealed to me. Her bra covered a good portion of her breasts, but still. Her boobs were pert, full and proud. They looked perfectly shaped and wonderfully peachy. I know I'm doing a lousy job of describing them. I'm sure you're thinking 'dude, they're just boobs, and your best friends boobs at that.' But I'm telling you. That's my point. They were so much more than anything I can describe to you. Like discovering the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

And, again, I was only seeing about a third of them thanks to Sophie's lacy bra.

"Ahem," Sophie cleared her throat, dramatically.

"Sorry," I said, and did my best to stop staring. It was like trying to look away from a black hole, so strong was that pull to peek.

"Ahem hem," Sophie did it again, even louder this time. She gestured to my chest.

"Oh," I said, "Right." I didn't remember agreeing to this literal tit for tat, but I wasn't going to step away from it, either. I pulled off my t-shirt, sticky with sweat, and tossed it aside.

"Very nice," Sophie said, looking at me appraisingly.

"You know, I'm completely bare while you're still wearing your bra. It seems to me it would be more even if we were both topless," I said. I mean, can you blame me for trying?

Sophie smirked and shook her head. "Mmmmm… Nice!" she said. She turned the movie back on.

We finished the film, both of us staying in our state of half-dress. You won't be surprised to learn that I missed most of what was on the screen. Look, I'm sure that Moira Kelly was kind of cute for her day, but compared to Sophie's luscious, stupendous, lace-covered chest, nothing else could compete.

I spent the entire time stealing glances when I thought Sophie wasn't looking. It wasn't enough. A lifetime's pass to stare wouldn't have been enough.

When the movie was over, when the guy finally got the girl, Sophie looked my way. I was ready to get berated for my inability to keep my eyes off Sophie's mounds. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. Pointed her chin. Well, I guess it wasn't too hot after all.

"Here's fine," Sophie said, sliding off the couch.

Instinctively I looked around. If the house hadn't been empty, I was pretty sure we'd have already been caught by now. I joined Sophie on the living room floor.

Sophie reached for a pillow off the couch. She didn't bother grabbing for her shirt. Oh. My. God. As if things couldn't get any better. Seeing Sophie lying on her stomach -- about to pleasure herself with a pillow -- with her breasts hanging near-free in her bra? I swear I felt my sanity start to snap.

"You like my titties?" Sophie asked, her face cinched as she pressed down.

For some reason, the word 'titties' sounded strange coming out of her mouth. The sight of her humping the floor was more than enough to overwhelm my momentary pause.

"You look so sexy," I said. I settled into the floor. Honestly, I was too hard at that point to hump. It didn't matter. Watching Sophie was more than enough.

"Oh, that feels so good," Sophie said, "Seeing you staring. Am I truly so amazing, Jeff?"

"You have no idea," I said.

"Think about it. Doing this. Holding me. Squeezing. Would you like that? Do you -- OH! -- want to feel my body while I do this? While I cum for you?"

"Yes… fuck yes," I said.

"Oh Jeff, I wish you could..." Sophie froze mid-moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why aren't you... you know?"

"Oh," I said. I was surprised she even noticed that I wasn't stuffing myself against the floor. "Well, um, you see. It's kinda hard to do this when I'm… this hard."

"Aw, did looking at my titties give you a stiffy?" Sophie asked. Boy, she really did like using that word for her breasts. "I thought getting an erection was supposed to help you with this stuff."

"It does," I said, "It would. It's just, when we do it this way, if I'm too worked up, it hurts when I try to, you know, make things happen."

"Well, what if you did it a different way," Sophie said, "You know, the way that it would work with you erect… and on your back?"

"I… I don't know."

"Take it out," Sophie said, "Show me. It's OK. I want to see it. Please?"

"No bra," I said. If I was going for it, then I was going for it.

Sophie didn't say a word. She reached back and unsnapped her black, lacy lingerie. She pulled it away and finally, her bare breasts hung free. They were better than I'd been picturing. Plump with phenomenally pert, pink nipples. I lost track of time. Of myself. My whole universe shattered by such a simple moment.

"Your turn," Sophie said. I noticed she'd stopped humping the pillow completely. She was waiting for me to get set.

I stood up and shimmied my shorts and underwear down in one go. My penis popped up, sticking straight out, like an overwound jack-in-the-box. I grabbed it immediately. Unable to control my urge to stroke myself.

Now, it was Sophie's turn to gasp. She stared up at my dick like it was an obelisk. A great and powerful object of desire.

"Wow," Sophie said. It seemed she wanted to add to that sentiment, but her brain was no longer in the business of making words.

I sat down on the couch. My bare bottom stuck to the canvas. Sophie spun herself on the ground so she could tilt her head up and see.

"Do you like it?" I asked, repeating what Sophie had said before. "Is my cock really so amazing, Soph?"

"Stroke it," Sophie said, "Show me. I need to see you masturbating."

Like I required a command by that point. My instincts had already kicked in. I gripped my cock and worked the loose skin back and forth. I was only using my hand, and dry at that, but it didn't matter. It felt incredible.

Meanwhile, below me, Sophie began trembling as she took herself to town on the pillow.

"Oh, Jeff," she said, "Feels so good... Your cock. So thick. Oh, I want it. Jerk it for me. Cum for me?"

With everything that had already happened, with all that we were doing, I wasn't going to last long. Fortunately, neither was Sophie.

Sophie rolled up on her groin, pointed her beautiful tits to the sky, then stiffened. Froze in place. Eyes glazed over. Mouth open. Finally, she broke. She let out a short, sharp sob as the pleasure squeezed out of her.

At that same moment, my cock exploded in my hand. A huge fountain of creamy spunk rocketed out and splattered on Sophie's face. I cried out as my orgasm overwhelmed me.

Sophie rolled over onto her back. She jammed her hand into her shorts and buried it in her pussy, working it like she was trying to rip the poor thing off. She stared up at me, eyes filled with hunger despite having already reached her peak.

I hit her perfect tits with my second shot of my pearlescent seed. I splattered her face again with my third. Sophie gasped and groaned as I bathed her in my sticky essence.

Finally, I puddled onto the ground, splayed out next to Sophie. The last of my load leaked out over my fingers. Sophie rolled over and kissed my forehead again. She stank of pussy and sperm. Desire and satisfaction. Man and woman, in a way we're never supposed to experience.

"You got me," Sophie said, gasping for breath, "Got me good."

"Sorry," I said.

"No way, that was awesome," Sophie said. "I'm going to need a shower now though."

"Me too," I said.

Sophie didn't miss what I was implying. For a moment, my best friend stared at me. She had my cum in her silky blonde hair... On her heaving tits. Both of us were barely clothed. Was I really asking for that much more?

To my surprise, Sophie actually seemed to consider my offer. But then she giggled, jumped up and skipped away.

________

July rolled into August. The heatwave ended, and while it wasn't exactly comfortable, we left unbearable back in the rearview mirror. I thought, after everything that had happened, that we'd progress more. Maybe Sophie would repeat her performance and take her top off or ask me to show her my dick. But none of that happened. Instead, we went back to regular old pressing.

At least for a little while.

In the meantime, life didn't stop moving around us. With time to school getting closer, needs outside of masturbating with Sophie began to take precedence. We drove to University a couple of times to make sure everything was set with the registrar and to get our supplies for the year.

Sophie's little sister, Lauren, was getting ready for her last year of high school, and we helped her get set up. Lauren was going to join us at Uni after high school, so we took her with us to see the campus, too.

Sophie and I did our usual chores -- food shopping, laundry, cooking meals. Her parents were still working like dogs, but her older sister, Jessica, got a bit of a break midway through the month and we met her in the city for lunch. Jessica made no mention of the previous 'incident' and certainly we had nothing to say about it.

Jessica and I never really saw eye to eye. I guess her height and around five seven or five eight but it was difficult to judge her shape in her bulky sweater and loose fitting jeans. Her face was the picture of pure beauty with finely arched eyebrows above green eyes that sparkled like rare treasures and lashes that looked long enough to braid. High, delicate cheekbones gave a remarkable sharpness to her features, as did her dainty nose that rested above the soft pink lips of her narrow mouth. Tiny orange freckles dotted her smooth face as if placed there by the skillful dance of a master's paintbrush on a fresh white canvass. Surrounding it all was a thick mane of lustrous red curls that were pulled back in a tight ponytail, with one unruly strand defying restraint to hang down the left side of her face. Even her voice was beautiful, I realised in awe.

There were hints of Sophie in her looks but where my best friend had curves, Jessica was willowy and slight. As the three of us ate lunch together I noticed she would look up at me, through her long eyelashes, every time Sophie was preoccupied with something. When she noticed me noticing her I became confident that something had changed between us. Jessica smiled. She would lean towards me… her fingers would linger on mine… where there was once hostility I now sensed a mutual attraction transcending the familial relationship that comes with me being friends with her sister.

Later that week, when I spent time at their house, Jessica no longer avoided me. She was flirting with me! Relishing times when Sophie was indisposed to place her hands on mine, or massage my shoulders. As timel progressed, the touches became more frequent, the greeting kisses moved from the cheeks to the lips and the private, affectionate glances and sexual innuendo between us became more titillating. I admit to being a willing participant with her in escalating the physical and mental aspects of our closeness… and Sophie was none the wiser.

Toward the end of my most recent visit, Jessica approached me after lunch while Sophie was otherwise occupied, and she told me she greatly enjoyed having me stay with them, especially appreciating my warmth toward her. I did not know where her conversation was leading, so I just let her talk.

She moved close to me, put her hand on my arm, looked into my eyes and told me, "I’m single and I think you’re growing into a very attractive man. To be honest Jeff, I have been thinking about you for many months. I hope that doesn't shock you."

Without breaking eye-contact, I put my hand over hers and replied, "Sophie… wouldn't be happy with me if she knew…”

“She's not here. Don't you find me attractive?”

“Yes,” I gulped, “I've been thinking about you, too, in ways that are not appropriate." I immediately felt that I may have been too presumptuous about the intent of her words, but I was wrong.

She quickly said, "You're not dating my sister, you're just friends! I just want you to know how I feel, Jeff," and she leaned against me and kissed me, twice, both times softly, and then more firmly a third time which clearly indicated to me she had a pressing need for intimacy.

I put my hands on her waist and pulled her tightly against me, feeling for the first time the pressure of her breasts against my chest and the contact of her thighs on mine. I continued the increasing passion of that third kiss and when I put my tongue on her lips she eagerly opened her mouth and an audible groan rattled in her throat.

Our first passionate encounter ended abruptly when Sophie called to us from another room. We separated quickly with both of us a bit stunned by what had just happened.

I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating the joys of passionate, fulfilling sex with a willing and eager woman, something that had become a distant memory for me. My mind's eye repeatedly undressed Jessica and visualized us fucking each other to multiple orgasms. I knew I was very likely overreacting, but I reveled in thinking about the extraordinary pleasures we could share.

The three of us went to a cozy restaurant that evening, and our flirting spoke volumes although it was necessarily subtle due to Sophie's presence. Jessica was seated across from me, and during the meal she rubbed my leg under the table with her bare foot. It was a simple, suggestive act, and I found it very pleasing and highly erotic. I felt my cock becoming firm, and I liked it.

When Sophie left us to use the restroom, I said to Jessica, "What's happening here?”

“I know what you two were doing… that day… but I also know she hasn't gone all the way with you. I really enjoy spending time with you, Jeff. I like our flirting and… I'm willing to give you what she won’t.”

“What? Are you serious?"

"I am serious, Jeff. Honestly. I have strong feelings for you, and I want to act on them." She reached down and ran her hand up my leg… towards my swollen member. She slid her hand down my inner thigh and traced the outline of my cock with her long fingernails. God, that felt great. I stared at her hardening nipples as they protruded through her top and stared into her emerald green eyes. Jessica smiled a wicked smile as she rubbed my cock through my pants, pre-cum was soaking my underwear. Even if it only went this far – I was in heaven.

She continued to squeeze my cock, I was sure I was going to cum inside my boxers.

"Jess… stop!” I gasped.

"Oh poor thing, you need relief don't you."

I gulped. She took her dainty thump and rubbed the pre-cum stain at the tip of my cock. I was in heaven and my cock jerked in response. She continued to rub my pre-cum and my cock head below. My glans was enlarged and ripening for the older sister.

"Jeff, your penis is huge!" she hissed. Her eyes were glued to my cock.

“Please, Jessica!” I said, not even knowing if I wanted her to stop or continue.

“I know you want to spare my sister's feelings, Jeff. That's so cute and so very chivalrous of you… here she comes,” then she whispered as Sophie approached the table, “I want you and it is going to happen sooner or later. If she doesn't make her move… I’ll be waiting to make mine.”

She smiled and all I could do was smile back. Sophie misread the situation and assumed we were simply getting along. Jessica made some excuses and left me with her younger sister… and sporting an uncomfortable erection.

“I see you still have a thing for redheads,” Sophie giggled, noticing the bulge in my pants but not realising just how true her statement was. We both watched her older sister walk out of sight, her hips swaying gracefully, her red mane of hair bouncing.

The next time we met at their house Jessica smiled knowingly but made no moves with her sister so close by. In other words, they acted like perfectly normal siblings, and we enjoyed our summer break as best we could, considering the circumstances. I guess only Jessica knew we were slipping away for shared masturbation sessions every now and then.

"I want to try something different this time," Sophie announced when I snuck into her bedroom. It was a random Wednesday and after sharing pleasantries with her big sister, she'd given me the chin jut, and here we were, getting ready to get off under the watchful eye of Link and Tom Nook, eyeing us from Sophie's bedroom walls.

The fact that Sophie had spoken up at all already had me nervous. Sure, we talked dirty to each other during the act, but we never came out and discussed the mechanics of what we were up to. Not really.

I assumed Sophie meant that she wanted me to jerk off again. Which, I was totally up for. I was all prepared to let her know that I was fine with it (in exchange for seeing titties), when she swerved so hard it nearly knocked me over.

"I'm just thinking," Sophie said, "Instead of using the floor or a pillow or whatever, it might be nice to try it together."

I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that what we'd been doing?

"No, I mean, like. If you were pressing on me. And I was pressing on you. It might feel even better, you know?"

I was too shocked to respond. What was Sophie suggesting, exactly? Did she sense her sister wanted sex? Was she offering me her body?

"We'd wear our clothes," Sophie said, as if that made things better. "It would be the same as always. Sort of…"

It was that sort of that really set it apart, wasn't it? I think some part of me was convinced, even after what we'd done during the movie, that this remained normal behavior… just friends… not boyfriend and girlfriend… not lovers. Normal. Well… not that you could tell someone about it, and they wouldn't stare at you in horror. I mean, I wasn't going to proactively bring it up at parties or anything. But I thought it was something I could confess to if needed.

This, though -- what Sophie was suggesting -- was so close to actual sex with Sophie, I didn't know how to respond. Would I, like, touch her? Would we kiss? Would she grab my butt while I pressed against her?

"Well, we'll have to touch," Sophie answered, "Definitely no kissing, though. And as to your butt, well, you do have a nice ass. But I'll try to restrain myself if you will."

"I don't know, Sophie," I said.

"Pleeeeeease," Sophie said, "If we don't like it, we can stop. I promise it'll be awesome, and I bet it'll feel way better than doing it on the floor. And it won't be anything different than we're already doing. It's almost exactly the same thing. Truly."

"So, you would, like, lie down. And I would be on top of you. And we would sort of, um, align?"

"Exactly," Sophie said. She clapped her hands. Somehow, it seemed, I'd agreed to do this without realising it.

My buxom, beautiful, blonde best friend climbed onto her bed and lay on her back. She patted the comforter, like asking a puppy to jump up and join her for a snuggle. Per usual, Sophie was wearing a t-shirt and tiny shorts. Yellow and green, respectively.

I had on a shirt, as well, and a pair of gray sweat-shorts. The thought of lying on Sophie clearly appealed to one part of my anatomy, because I was already achingly erect. For once, my hard-on was going to be an advantage when we went to press.

I climbed onto the bed. It was oddly soft, like trying to crawl across a Bounce House with fifty kids going to town on it. I dragged myself next to Sophie. Our faces so close, our noses could practically touch.

"Like this," I said.

"Whole body," Sophie said.

I climbed over Sophie. She spread her thighs. Holy fuck. This was oh-so-very-much like fucking. The clothes did not make a damned difference, I swear they didn't.

Sophie seemed to be rethinking her idea, as well. Like the sudden closeness finally brought it home to her about what she was about to do with her best friend. She gave me a nervous smile as I adjusted myself. But she didn't stop me.

Gingerly, I aimed my groin over Sophie's. Then I slowly lowered it down. My hardness pressed into her. I couldn't tell if I had the right spot or not.

"Little higher," Sophie said. "To the left."

Through layers of clothing, I couldn't truly tell whether I was pressing against a leg, a tummy, or a pussy. But Sophie sure knew when I hit her cleft because she let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"There you go," Sophie said. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "That's the spot."

Sophie looked up at me, expectantly. Again, we shared an anxious grin.

"OK?" I asked.

"Yes, OK," Sophie said.

I became very aware of her soft, warm body. Her breasts pressing into my chest. Her legs on either side of mine. The smell of her shampoo -- apple-y and sweet. Her full lips and cute little tongue. The endless blue-sky of her eyes. Not a cloud in sight for miles.

Sophie seemed to be examining me in the same way. Her eyes and body adjusting to mine. She put her hand up to touch my cheek, then ripped it away like it burned her.

"Sorry," she said, "Habit."

I didn't have a good sense of Sophie's sexual experience. I knew she'd had boyfriends and I was sure they'd done more than kiss. I didn't bother asking because she was my best friend, and it was none of my business. She certainly never inquired about my (meager) dating history and I was never going to tell her about the kiss I shared with Jessica.

Now, though, intimately on top of each other, I wondered if this was something Sophie had shared with someone else. We say 'virginity' like it's a singular thing and I suppose it can be. But there are all sorts of 'virginities' if you think about it -- an endless number of intimate acts we can experience for the first time. I couldn't help but wonder if Sophie was sharing one of those with me in that very moment. The same way I was giving my own to her.

"You can press," Sophie said, "I'm ready."

I nodded. With my hardness firmly slotted against Sophie, I ground down.

Sophie's eyes flashed. She giggled. Then groaned.

"That's. Definitely. The spot," she said.

"Uh huh," I agreed.

We pushed against each other for as long as we could, then broke. Gasping. Did it again. In some ways, this experience was almost expected. It's what I'd been picturing every time on the floor, after all. And yet it was so different than anything I could have imagined. Beyond my fantasies into something truly unimaginable. Wonderful in every way.

I pressed into Sophie and her hands reached up and gripped my butt, pushing me down into her.

"Sorry," Sophie said, but she didn't stop.

I grabbed her shoulders for purchase, in response. For a moment, I thought about reaching lower. I was afraid that one wrong action would end things. I can't imagine how that would have happened. But in the moment, I swear it made sense.

Sophie's gasps and groans got faster. Our actions more frantic. We worked each other to our release. Unlike before, we didn't talk. We didn't need to. All the stimulation we required was right there, with each other.

"Fuck! Soph! I'm close!" I managed to squeak out.

"Do it," Sophie said, "Let it go."

A moment later, I felt the warm spurting wetness of my ejaculate spill into my shorts. There was something almost painful about it. Strained. The bliss overtook me. I felt Sophie's hand on my head. Stroking my hair lovingly. I became very aware of sharing this intimate, vulnerable thing with Sophie. It made everything more satisfying, yet also scarier.

When I got my strength back, I rolled off of Sophie.

"That was nice," she said, "Thank you for letting that happen."

"Did you...?"

"No… Not really," Sophie said.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it.

"No, don't be," Sophie said, "Honestly it was totally awesome. Just different. I loved it."

I nodded, letting myself believe her. If I thought the floor was comfortable post-cum, you can only imagine how nice it felt to be in Sophie's soft warm bed. I let my head loll against the perfumed pillows.

Then Sophie said something that totally blew my mind.

"I think it would be better if we do it without pants next time," she said.

There wasn't a word in that sentence that didn't make my heart race.

________

Fortunately (or not, depending on your perspective), my best friend didn't mean naked, which is what I initially thought she intended.

"No, we need underwear, silly!" Sophie said, clearly trying not to laugh, “We are not going to ruin our friendship by doing something stupid.”

We were in my bedroom this time. Keeping things fresh, I guess. It was a few days after our previous encounter, and I'd spent the entire time on tenterhooks trying to figure out what Sophie had meant by 'without pants.' Obviously, I guessed wrong.

"That would be way too much like actual sex," Sophie explained, as if this were a totally logical way to draw the line. "Also, to be honest we've had to cut back on some necessities because of, well, everything. You know, medical things. So, I'm like, not safe. At the moment. Having at least a layer between me and any of your little swimmers is probably for the best."

"Wow, I'm sorry," I said, "That sucks."

In all that we'd been going through, basic needs like birth control had never occurred to me. I guess being a guy afforded me a few more luxuries than I had realised. I wondered who else in the family was going without at the moment. Things that had never occurred to me.

"It's whatever," Sophie said, "Honestly, it's not the end of the world. Not like I have a boyfriend or anything right now. And Mom thinks we'll be able to get things back to how they were in a few months, so I'll be good to go."

"OK," I said, "Still, is there something I can do to help?"

"Well, you can start by taking your pants off so we can do this properly," Sophie said. I mean, if that wasn't the sexiest thing you've ever heard, what is?

I smirked at Sophie and lowered my bottoms, careful to keep my boxers in place. Sophie shucked off her own shorts and hopped up onto my bed. She lay back, unable to keep from making a silly giggle.

"OK, same as last time," Sophie said.

I wish I could tell you that I was used to being in such close contact with Sophie by then. But getting on top of her was the same disorienting experience all over again. I was dizzy like I'd climbed a mountain, rather than mounted my sexy younger sibling.

I rested my hardness on Sophie's sex. Well, she was right about one thing, pressing with just underwear on was way different. The thin cloth seemed barely able to contain us. I swore I could feel the heat and dampness of Sophie's pussy. I was certain she could feel the warmth of my hard-on. The fly of my boxers never felt so precarious.

I pressed and Sophie moaned. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, holding me close. I became very aware of how much we were bare skin to bare skin… Her legs on mine. I buried my head in the crook of her neck. Her scent overwhelmed me as I ground into her.

"Oh Jeff." Sophie humped up into me. I could tell the pleasure was taking hold of her this time. "This is amazing! You're so good."

Both of us were slick with sweat. My room was already hot, but now it felt like we were baking. My muscles ached. How was this so much work?

"Getting... close..." Sophie said.

I pressed down as hard as I could. Sophie made this strange, high pitched, strained noise. Then punctuated it with a gasp. The effort put me over the top as well. Both of us came hard, wrapped around each other.

When it was over, Sophie smiled and gave me a peck on the lips. I was so enraptured by my orgasm, by Sophie's, I didn't even startle.

"Yup, better with just underwear," Sophie said. She pushed me off of her and I saw an oozing creamy mess emerging through my underwear. I'd left a pretty large mess on her panties and she had a few streaks down her thighs, as well. The liquid was white, so I knew it wasn't only Sophie's lubrication. My sperm seemed to make her soaked panties define her swollen labia… I was struck dumb at the sight!

"Mmmm, it came close. No further, though," Sophie said, "It would be way too dangerous. I better take these off."

I nodded my agreement, eagerly, but she simply laughed and danced into the bathroom to clean up.

________

Despite everything going on with her family finances, there was one area that her parents swore we could not skimp on: their baby sister Lauren's eighteenth birthday party.

They invited everyone we could think of to the house -- family, friends, neighbors -- whoever wanted to come plus quite a few people who probably didn't but showed up anyway. They rented a tent for the backyard, plus tables and chairs. They had catered food, a live band (some of Lauren's high school friends, apparently), the whole thing.

If there wasn't too much food, too many people, and too much noise there was an overabundance of one thing: alcohol. And that's what got me into trouble.

I was invited, of course, and I spent most of my time trying to enjoy myself. In some ways, it was nice, seeing all these people -- family and friends that I'd managed to avoid all summer suddenly felt welcome. At least mostly. Every conversation was tinged with the fear that someone was going to start interrogating me about what was going on with me or Sophie. It gave even the sweetest moments a sour twist.

About a couple of hours into it, I was walking back from the bathroom when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Sophie standing behind me, grinning from ear-to-ear. She was wearing a sleeveless, summery dress with a pink, floral pattern that showed off her curves. Sophie had a beer in her hand and, judging by the look in her eyes, quite a few more in her belly.

"Hey Jeff," she said, a bit too loudly, "There's someone who wants to say 'hi.'"

"OK?"

Sophie took my hand and led me out to the backyard. There had to be at least twenty people out there, impressive considering the size of our lawn. Sophie pulled me straight through the morass to the back, where her sister was lying back in a recliner. She was nursing a beer and her red hair, a gene she shared with her big sister Jessica, hung past her shoulders. She wore it straight and her eyes were sparkling blue like Sophie's. The three sisters only really differed in their figures. Jessica was tall and willowy, Sophie was curvaceous and Lauren was petite. She had the body of a gymnast and rarely stood out in comparison to her older siblings.

"Jeff, you remember Lauren, don't you?" Sophie said, then collapsed into giggles.

Of course I knew Lauren. Lauren was Sophie's eighteen year old sister… the birthday girl. She was a sweet, quiet girl who spent years staring at me as if I had arrived from another planet. She spotted us, and her face lit up. She, like Sophie, had a light dusting of freckles on her fair skin, which went well with her hippie look. Tonight she wore a choker and a crop top with a floral print on it, which, I noticed with a slight twinge, accentuated her smaller breasts beautifully. Clearly the top wasn't conducive to a bra, because her nipples pushed through the fabric in the cool night air. I looked away, scolding myself. Lauren was Sophie's little sister, and though I had always thought she was stunningly beautiful in a wood nymph kind of way, I loved Sophie and was content to admire Lauren only in stolen glances.

"Thank god you're here," Lauren said, hugging us. "I was worried I’d have to talk to more people I don't know. Seems like I've made a lot of new friends."

"You could use a few friends, little sis," Sophie suggested, raising her eyebrow. "And there are a good amount of guys here trying to talk to you."

Lauren scrunched her pretty face up in mock distaste. "Not interested," she said, and I could have sworn she looked at me while she said it.

"You're gonna have to date at some point," Sophie said. It was something she'd talked to me about before, this beautiful sister of hers who didn't seem to want to return anyone's advances. We'd tried setting her up with some of my friends, but she'd always shot them down.

I did my best to say hello and wish her a happy birthday while also ignoring Sophie. The blonde sister was schmoozing around the garden, drunkenly flirting with every guy in turn and demanding that they date her younger sister. I did, indeed, remember Lauren. Lying back in the sun, she was even cuter than my mind had given her credit for. The petite redhead extended her hand, and I gave it a little touch.

"Don't mind Sophie," Lauren said, "She's had a few too many, I fear."

"What about you?"

"Oh, definitely don't ignore me," Lauren said. She gave me a sly smile.

Sophie started laughing even harder somewhere in the background.

"Jeez Sophie, take a breath," I said.

I sat on the end of the lounger and talked to Lauren for a bit. She was back from school for a couple weeks. She had all sorts of fantastic stories about the adventures she would go on when she was old enough. She wanted to escape life in this little town, eat amazing food, and basically having the experience of a lifetime.

"What about you?" Lauren asked, "How's your summer been?"

"Oh, just hanging out," I said, very aware of Sophie's presence. I'm sure my cheeks flushed as I said it.

"Yeah, Sophie told me all about it," Lauren said. My heart slowed. A rush filled my ears. Sophie hadn't told Lauren everything everything, had she? "She said you guys have been sitting around the house watching movies or whatever. Sounds miserable."

"Oh, yes," I said, relief flooding me. "That's exactly what's been happening."

"Well, I can't say it's exactly been bad for you," Lauren said, eyeing me meaningfully, "You look good, Jeff. You filled out."

"Oh, um, thanks," I said, "You do too. Even cuter."

"Cuter, huh?" Lauren said. Her smile radiated warmth. She sighed and her eyes seemed to glaze over. “Do you think I’m cuter than my sisters?”

"OK, OK, meet and greet time is over," Sophie said, breaking in. Her voice abruptly serious. "Come on Jeff, we need to go give Lauren her birthday presents."

"Let's give it to her later, you're in no state to…" I began. Sophie glared at me so hard, I felt my bones begin to crack.”

"Wait here," I onceded and darted back into the house. When I returned I was carrying two small boxes. "This is for you," I told her.

“Open the bigger box!” Sophie gleefully instructed, “It was my choice… just so lover boy here doesn’t get embarrassed.”

Lauren sat up and did as she was told, carefully unwrapping the first box. Inside was a very skimpy lingerie set. Sophie was right, she had chosen it, paid for it and I had nothing to do with it. The material looked like silk, quite expensive, and bright red. Lauren held up the lacey bra and panties with a very happy look on her face.

“Thanks, Sophie! You listened! I am in desperate need of some sexy lingerie and this looks… wow!”

I think my face was as red as the underwear.

“I’ll give you a show sometime,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Maybe wearing that you’ll finally get laid!” Sophe chortled.

“Then maybe you should wear it!” Lauren joked back, “You’re such a prude, Soph! Thank you though. Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied as Sophie slumped on the lounger, clearly running on empty. “This is for you, too.” I handed her the second smaller box.

“Jeff chose it, I had nothing to do with it.” Sophie mumbled as she lay back.

Lauren looked dismayed. "I can't accept a gift from you, Jeff," she said.

"Just have a look," I begged.

When she opened the box she found a thin gold necklace that held a small ornament made of two different metals elaborately interwoven. "It's amazing," she said. "What is it?"

"It's a Celtic knot. The two strands are interlaced to form an endless loop. I bought it because it makes me think about how you and your family have become intertwined with my life. You’re the sister I never had… and you only turn eighteen once. I wanted to get you something you could keep."

She caught her breath. "That's beautiful, Jeff. But I can't..."

I interrupted her. "It's a common enough design that wearing it won't mean anything to anyone else, but you'll know what it means to me," I told her. "Please accept it." I took it from her and proceeded to drape it around her neck and engage the clasp.

She stood up and walked over to the window to look at her reflection. "It really is beautiful," she murmured. Then she turned and kissed me. "Thank you, Jeff."

Suddenly her eyes focused on Sophie… who was already out like a light. "She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

I was still reeling from the kiss. Fortunately Sophie hadn’t noiced. She wouldn’t be noticing anything for a short while at least.

“Let’s let her sleep. I need something to eat and I need protecting from all these strangers. Sit with me, Jeff?”

We stood in the kitchen drinking cold lemonade and chatting. I loved talking with Lauren. She was smart, funny, and a great listener when I droned on about Sophie, or school, or whatever. I always felt so comfortable around her. I often told her things I wouldn't tell my Mom, or even my best friend, and she always gave me excellent advice. She was a little firecracker when she got to know you, but otherwise she was distant and answered to no one.

That particular evening, I was telling Lauren about my YouTube channel and the stream Sophie and I had made the night before.

“Don’t you have a love life?” Lauren slipped into the conversation completely nonchalantly.

“None to speak of…”

“Have you ever thought about… getting it on with Sophie?”

“God no! Of course not.” I replied, probably too defensively.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I mean you can if you want to but I know she can be… distant. Cold.”

“Sophie is not cold…”

“I meant sexually. She’s such a geek and she’s still a virgin!”

“Are you?” I replied, trying to break the conversation. But she answered immediately.

“Of course I’m not a virgin!” This was news to me! And suddenly, I didn’t know how to take it.

“I know you’re a virgin though,” she said in a lower voice.

“So,” I said, taking a quick sip of lemonade.

“Have you done anything… with a girl?” asked Lauren.

“You know I have. I have told you about every one of my failed relationships.” I said sadly, “Maybe I am just a prude… or maybe I really am just bad boyfriend material.”

Lauren laughed, “Oh, I'm sure it's not you, Jeff.”

“It must be. It's like I have some kind of repulsing special power.” I joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

“You just haven't found what you're looking for yet,” Lauren said.

“I'm not even sure how to keep looking.” I sighed. “Maybe Relationships are not worth the hassle?P

Lauren sipped her drink slowly, and there was a long pause before she spoke.

“Jeff.” She looked me in the eyes. Hers were blue, with patterns identical to Sophie’s. Somehow I'd never noticed that before. “Have you considered that maybe you just aren’t looking in the right places?”

I was a little shocked by her question.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she put her glass down on the counter, 'it seems to me that you spend an awful lot of time with Sophie. Girls are going to keep their distance while you two seem so close. I get that you're not but… you're never going get with anyone else while she is taking up so much of your time. She's never going to put out, and…”

“And what?” I asked, my voice surprisingly quiet.

“And I was wondering... I mean, have you ever thought about you and me?”

“Us? Together?”

Lauren nodded. I had to think before answering. The air between us had changed. The conversation was becoming dangerous, but in an exciting way.

“Yes”' I replied. “I've thought about what it would be like.” Lauren smiled gently and nodded. I felt free to continue. “Like, sometimes, if I see you with your boyfriends I… feel… protective… jealous.” I felt myself blush slightly.

'I’ve thought about you, too,' said Lauren. “Have you ever kissed Sophie?'

“A few times,” then I added to throw her off the scent, “when we were younger.”

It had been a hot day, but until that moment I had not been aware of it. Now I felt my whole body getting warmer. I'd never talked about this with anyone, and I wasn't prepared for how exciting it felt.

“So, when was your first proper kiss with Sophie?” she asked.

I glanced down at Lauren's bare stomach, at the smooth, tanned skin that disappeared into the waist of her shorts. Then I slipped my eyes back up her body, to the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard beneath her top.

“We aren’t like that… I haven’t… we haven’t…” I replied, suddenly very nervous. I wasn't sure if she was pressing too far. I wasn't even sure where too far was. She grabbed my hand and led me to the empty dining room.

“Well… I need a proper birthday kiss,” she said, closing the door. “It's something I want to share with you. You’re special, Jeff, and I want to kiss you.”

“I don’t think we should?”

“But it’s my birthday? she pouted, “and you have no idea what it is even going to eel like.” She stared at me with a kind of serious expression. “You just have to experience it to know.”

My stomach was tingling. Neither of us spoke. I put my empty glass down and found myself moving very slowly toward her. We were in a moment. I'm sure you've been there, too. You're with someone, and you both stop talking, and there's this incredible tension in the air because you know what's about to happen, and it's terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

Lauren had been leaning against the table. She stood up straight and turned to face me dead on. I took another step and began to reach out with one hand. I hesitated, and let my arm fall back down. But the look in her eyes made me reach out again, and this time I touched her arm. The simple contact of my fingers on her skin made me feel it was okay. My final step was quicker, and it brought me right to her, mere inches away. I tilted my head, parted my lips, and leaned forward.

My eyes didn't close until our lips met. At first it was a shock, like jumping into cold water. Then my fear blew out like a flame, and it didn't matter anymore that I was kissing Sophie’s little sister. All that mattered was the softness of her skin, the smell of perfume and shampoo, the comfort of her hands on my hips, and the warm, delicate dance of her velvet lips. She was right: it was like nothing I had experienced before.

The first kiss was brief, maybe only six seconds. Our lips separated, and I opened my eyes to gaze into hers. She might have been about to ask me how it felt, when I pressed myself closer and kissed her again. I put my free hand on her waist, my thumb resting against her stomach. My whole body seemed to come alive. My lips were at the center of an electrical storm that raced through me, lighting me up. It was almost more than I could bare.

The second kiss was much longer, and when it was over, I was breathless. Lauren's blue eyes were sparkling. I'd never seen her look more beautiful. That brief moment, as we stood there gazing silently at each other, changed everything for me. It was like admitting to myself all the unformed thoughts and feelings I'd had since I was a little boy; things that I'd been afraid to explore in the naked light of day. After all the fumbling and let-downs of my experiences with other women – though there hadn't been that many – this suddenly felt perfectly right.

Lauren slowly took my hand from her arm and placed it on her bikini top. I was shaking slightly. At first I couldn't move. Then I began to stroke her, curving my hand to the shape of her small breast. I felt the outline of her rigid nipple beneath my palm, and she sighed as I brushed across it. I took notice, and pinched her nipple between my thumb and finger.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I pinched her again, and this time she sucked in breath and bit her bottom lip. I felt a surge of arousal, knowing that I had given her pleasure. For the first time, I could see that I was capable of making someone feel good, on equal terms.

Lauren was breathing hard. She kissed me this time, resting one hand gently on my face. Her other hand moved to my waist, pushing my T-shirt up and holding my side. She caressed me softly at first, then became firmer as she moved up toward my chest. I closed my eyes and let out a fragile moan.

That was when she stopped.

I opened my eyes, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my legs quivering. Her hand was still on my side, but her head was turned slightly away.

“We should stop,” she said.

I panicked. Had I done something wrong? My mind was racing. I felt drunk, and none of it made any sense. All I wanted was for her to keep touching me.

I asked, “Why?”

At that moment the front door opened, and I heard the muffled sounds of her Mom coming into the dining room. I still didn't move. I wanted to cry.

Lauren looked into my eyes. “I want to go further,” she whispered, “if you want to?”

Then she removed her hand and stepped away. I straightened my T-shirt and picked up the empty glasses from the counter. Mom walked into the dining room, preoccupied by the tray of food she was carrying.

“Oh, hi!” she said to Lauren. She looked at me, and I knew that my cheeks must have been flushed. I gave a shaky smile and turned away, back to the dishwasher. “You'll never guess who I just ran into,” her Mom went on.

“Who?” Lauren asked.

And suddenly everything was normal again. her Mom and Lauren talked just as they always did, and I got out of there as quickly as I could and went up to Sophie’s room. As soon as my door was shut I almost collapsed onto her bed. I'd never been so excited, so intensely aroused, in my life. I was dizzy, and I wanted to scream. I closed my eyes and replayed the whole scene in my head, reliving certain details over and over.

When I ventured back downstairs the party was almost over, most of the guests had left. Sophie was still sleeping in the garden and Lauren was saying her goodbyes to her friends.

Jessica caught my arm and told me what a wonderful gift I had bought her sister. Her green eyes seemed to dance and, for the first time, actually looked at me with warmth and respect. Lauren bounded towards us, fingering her necklace and Jessica disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight she planted a huge kiss on my cheek.

“I think my sister is warming to you!”

“Yes, I think she is.” I said, still just as confused as ever.

“Come on, let’s mop up the food before Sophie wakes up with a bad case of the munchies. Mom and Dad are on taxi duty for some of the guests so we will have the dining room to ourselves.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the snug room with the leftovers displayed on the table. As we began to eat, Lauren started to talk.

We talked about Jessca’s recent break up. We talked about some drama her friends were experiencing. All the while, as her right hands were feeding her face… and right foot was casually caressing my leg.

"So what do you know about pleasing a girl, about having sex?" Sophie's little sister asked.

Though now sporting a raging hard-on that filled the front of my boxers, I was still uncomfortable with this conversation. However, I was equally as interested in seeing where it was going.

"I picked up a few ideas from some porno movies and experimented a little… with some ex-girlfriends," I confessed.

"Well," she said, "forget about most of what you have learned from the porno films because for most girls, that's not how it works in real life."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Number one, most girls don't want cum blasted all over their faces. Number two, there's more to it than her sucking you off and you fucking her afterward."

I had never heard Sophie's sister talk like this before, she was being so frank. But, it was definitely a turn-on as I sat across the table from her. Trying to conceal my excitement, I shifted in my seat again so my hardened cock would have some more room in my boxers.

"Ok, tell me more," I encouraged her.

"Girls, at least for me and most of my friends, like to have some attention paid to us as well."

"What kind of attention?"

"Well, one of the best times I had with a guy started very innocently," she began. "We had been making out in my room and he was doing a number on my neck. Nibbling and kissing on my neck and shoulders. It was giving me chills, not to mention making me completely horny."

I could tell from her tone that the memories were still vivid, as her breathing changed slightly and her face became a little flush with color.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything more with him," she continued, "but the more he focused his attention on me without wanting anything right away the more I began to want him."

I so wanted to reach down and rub my cock right then and there, but I was afraid if I did Lauren would freak out or something. So I just sat there, listening intently and contracting my pubic muscles now and then to make my cock move ever so slightly inside my shorts.

"After making out for a little while longer," Lauren continued, "I unbuttoned my blouse for him, figuring he would get the hint."

"Did he?" I asked quickly.

I was having no trouble picturing the scene in my mind as I imagined what he was going to do to Lauren's little, perky tits.

"Oh yes, Jeff," she answered. "He sure did. He undid a few more buttons and took off my top."

"Were you wearing a bra?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling. "I often go without a bra under my tops. It's just one of the advantages of not being too gifted."

My earlier glimpse of her breast confirmed her statement as I was now fully erect and throbbing. All I wanted to do at that moment was to feel my hardness, but I was still able to realise that having this conversation was one thing, playing with my cock while Sophie's sister sat only a few feet away was another thing completely.

"He began to lick my nipples, ever so lightly," Lauren continued. "Then he took one in his mouth and began to gently suck on it."

From my position across the table, I could see she was enjoying her own story. As she shifted in her chair, her pajama top betrayed her erect nipples as they were now pressed firmly against the fabric.

"Do you like having your nipples sucked," I asked cautiously, not sure just how far I could question her before she would decide not to answer.

"Oh yes, most girls do, but don't go all hard and heavy on her nipples all at once. They should be licked or tongued, gently at first, then harder. Same thing goes if you start to suck on them. Vary it up and watch for her reaction. She'll let you know how she likes it, soft or hard or a mix of the two."

I was having a hard time keeping my hand above the table. As I listened intently to Sophie's sister, I reached for my glass and accidentally knocked a fork onto the floor. Leaning down to reach for my utensil, I gave a quick glance under the table at where Lauren sat. My heart nearly jumped from inside my chest as she had her legs spread wide, offering me a view at the now-wet front of her panties. I banged my head on the underside of the table as I quickly sat up, desperately not wanting to get caught staring at Sophie's sister's pussy.

"Dropped my fork," I managed to say as I set it back on the table. I had never looked at Sophie's sister like that before, but found it to be incredibly erotic to see just how much she was enjoying the conversation. I found myself wondering what her pussy looked like underneath those panties. Was she shaved, trimmed or natural? Did she have a tight slit or were her pussy lips full and inviting? Was it sweet smelling or musky in a hot sex kind-of-way?

As if she knew I snuck a peek at her, she gave me a sly smile before replying.

"Well Jeff, you better get another fork then."

"Um, I guess so."

As I stood up from the table, I had completely forgotten about the raging erection that now filled my boxers.

"Mmm-hmmmm," I thought I heard Lauren whisper to herself as I passed by.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," she lied.

Realising now what she was talking about, I quickly sat down at the table again, not wanting her to see just how turned on I was.

"Now, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted," she teased.

"Um, I think he was sucking on your nipples"

"Oh, yeah," she replied distractedly. "Well, after that I wanted to see just what he was willing to do for me. Now mind you, I really hadn't given him any attention yet."

"Was he getting impatient?"

"Probably, but if he knew what was good for him, which he must have, he kept his mouth shut. Well, at least for a few more minutes anyway."

"What did he do?"

"Well, he unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off. Then he began to lick my pussy through my panties."

"No shit?"

"No shit," she answered. "Now, if you want your girl in the palm of your hand, don't be afraid to go down on her. Because if you do, chances are that she will return the favour at some point."

"Um, how do you... what do you do when you go down on a girl like that?" I asked, feeling somewhat stupid.

"Well, this is one area that your porno experience will come in handy. Each girl is different in what she likes, but me? I like for him to start slow, with long licks of his flat tongue. I like him to flick my clit with his tongue, but not too much, because that makes it really sensitive. Anyway, after he flicks his tongue over it, having him suck on my clit really makes me wild. You know where a girl's clit is, right? It's at the top. Don't worry, you'll find it when you are down there. It's like a little nub at the top of her pussy. Then, I love to be tongue fucked. I love to feel a guy's tongue in my pussy, licking my walls up and down. And don't be afraid to use your hands."

As she continued, she again shifted in her seat, standing ever so slightly as to bring one of her legs up into the chair to sit on. It was then Sophie's sister did something that I never expected, not that having this conversation was, but this went way beyond that. Almost nonchalantly, her hand rose slowly off the table and moved down between her legs. My cock immediately rose even further. Sophie's sister, whether it was a conscious decision or just force of habit, was beginning to masturbate right in front of me.

"Think you can remember all of this?" she teased.

Lauren was looking me directly in the eyes, not blinking or gazing to one side or the other, as she continued to play with herself. She wanted me to know what she was doing as she smiled and licked her lips before continuing. It was definitely a conscious decision.

"After he had worked on my pussy for some time, I was ready to do anything for him," she admitted.

"Nice," was about all I could muster at that point.

"So I returned the favour and took off his pants. And I gave him a blowjob he'll never forget."

For the first time, I imagined my cock in Sophie's sister's mouth, sucking me for all she was worth as she looked up at me with those stunning blue eyes. The sound of Lauren's voice again snapped me from my early morning fantasy.

"I'm going to tell you something, Jeff. As great as most women seem to think huge cocks are for sex, I prefer sucking on one that isn't so big. If it's too big, all it does is choke you and then I can't enjoy what I'm doing, so you're not going to enjoy it as much either. A nice, average sized cock is perfect for sucking. You know, something like yours."

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I heard her words. I was so flabbergasted that I couldn't even muster a single syllable.

"Oh, come on," she continued, "I've seen you at the pool enough times to know you're pretty decent down there."

Her comment about my cock blew me away, as did the thought of her eyeing me in my swimsuit. I know Sophie's sister dated quite a bit in high school and college, but I never figured that she would be checking out my penis at the pool, much less make a comment about my size.

"So, did you suck him until he came or did you save it for something else?"

As this point, it seemed like we were trying to outdo each other so I wasn't hesitating to put out some very direct questions.

"Nope, though I have sucked a few guys off until they came. But one thing, if you find a girl willing to swallow, please give her some warning before you pop off. If we are going to swallow for you, I think that's the least you could do."

My cock was raging now, as hard as I could ever remember. Lauren still had her hand between her legs so I didn't see why I should hold back any longer. Watching for her reaction as I moved my hand under the table, her eyes seemed to light up and I definitely heard a soft moan escape her lips as she realised I had taken my hard cock in hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"So what are you going to do now, Jeff?"

"Same as you, Lauren," I replied, smiling.

I slid my chair back from the table so I had a little room to spread my legs out. Reaching down with my free hand, I slid my boxers down and released my cock from the cotton confines. Still fully erect and standing tall, I began stroking myself to an orgasm I never anticipated would be caused by Sophie's sister.

Lauren took my lead and slid her own chair back from the table. Though neither of us could see the other's hand, we both knew there was no turning back at this point.

"So, how do you like to be fucked?" I asked.

Lauren paused a bit before answering as the squishy sounds coming from her wet pussy had betrayed what previously had been subtle fingering. The look on her face told me that she had one, if not more, of her fingers buried in her pussy in an attempt to bring herself to orgasm.

"Mmm, I love riding a nice, hard cock. I love being in control. Deciding how deep I take it. Whether I want to just grind on it or slide my pussy up and down that smooth shaft."

Her words had me on the verge of cumming. As I pictured Lauren riding my cock, I could feel it building inside me, ready to explode.

"Can you feel it when he cums?"

"Oh, yes. It swells right before he ejaculates. When I know he is close, I clench my pussy tight so he can't help but shoot it deep inside me."

My breathing was becoming labored now as I was ready to shoot my load all over the diningroom floor. Pre-cum had dripped down my shaft, providing all the lubrication I needed to finish jacking off.

"Come for me."

Lauren's request was not totally unexpected, but sounded strange nonetheless.

"Make yourself cum for the birthday girl."

My hand began stroking at a feverish pace as I neared my own orgasm. As I quickened my pace, Lauren did likewise as she fingered herself toward relief.

"Mmmmm, I'm cumming,"

As she cried out, Lauren's petite body shook as ripples of pleasure flowed throughout her being.

I watched Sophie's sister's orgasm intently as I stroked myself. She exhibited a sensuality I had never seen in a woman before, much less in Sophie's sister. This exhibition of pleasure was all I needed to meet her demands.

"Uhhhnnnnhhhh, fuck," was all I could manage to say as my cock erupted in a stream of come. I masturbated fairly frequently, but this was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before. Spurt after spurt of white hot spunk splashed onto the floor as I slouched into my chair.

Several minutes passed before either of us could manage to speak. What had been the most erotic situation either of us had probably experienced had now turned into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Lauren composed herself, rose from her chair and began to walk out of the kitchen. As she looked back at me, still sitting at the table with my cock in hand, she smiled.

"Thank you," was all she said before leaving the room.

________

I headed back into the kitchen but everyone was long gone. Hearing a noise from the stairs I looked up to see Lauren disappear into her bedroom. Then I heard a noise behind me.

“There you are! Oh you’ve been with Lauren. I knew you always fancied her!”

“Sophie, lower your voice!” The blonde sister looked rather disheveled, but still beautiful. Her face however looked like thunder.

"I'm going to get a drink," Sophie announced. She headed into the dining room, grabbing my arm. "And so are you."

"Sorry," I said, as Sophie dragged me away, “You fell asleep…”

“She’s in love with you, dummy!”

I tried to explain about Lauren, but Sophie wouldn't let me.

"Why would you introduce us if you don't want us to talk?" I asked. We were both standing in the dining room. I could swear I could smell the cum her little sister and I had just released in there. Sophie had stepped up to mixed drinks, finishing a rum and coke way too quickly for my liking.

"I thought it would be funny," Sophie said, "You know, after what you told me last month. But instead, you had to go and make it all weird."

"Weird?"

"Flirty," Sophie said, "That's not cool. You can't just, like, come on to my little sister in front of me, OK?"

"I kind of feel like she was being flirty with me," I said.

"Whatever," Sophie said, putting her cup down forcefully. "It's not OK so don't do it."

I should have let it go at that. I can't play dumb; I knew exactly what the problem was. And if Sophie had been flirting with one of my friends I'd have been equally upset. But at that moment, well, Lauren was super cute. And I hadn't lied before, I really had crushed on her pretty hard in high school. To have her get all bothered about me, that was the kind of ego boost I couldn't back off of.

Like Sophie had said, our time together was going to end. We weren't in some forever relationship. So, what if I tried to play the field a little? Was it so wrong to want to be a boyfriend instead of a beating-off buddy? And yeah, maybe I'd had a little more to drink than I'd let on, as well.

So instead of being a supportive friend and letting it go, I pushed the issue. "I can do what I want," I said, "You're not in charge of me."

Sophie scowled at me. "Fine, go back to your red headed slut," she said. I waited for the argument. Wanted it. Instead, Sophie gave me one last angry look, then flounced off. "See if I give a shit."

By then, I was too miserable to care. My big victory had turned to ashes. All I could think about was what I'd said to Sophie. How much I'd lost for what little I'd gained. I searched through the house to find Sophie. But she'd melted away. Finally, after about ten minutes of searching, I found her slumped in the bath.

"Heeeeyyyyyy," she slurred out when she saw me. "It's my favorite best friend."

Oh damn, she was far drunker than before. She staggered out of the bath using my arm to support her and I helped her onto a couch.

"Look, Sophie, I want to apologise," I said, the words spilling out of me.

"Don't worry about it, Jeff," Sophie said, "Come sit with me."

I nestled next to her on the couch. Sophie immediately lolled over me, clumsily wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Her soft chest pressed into mine.

"Ummm, Sophie?"

Sophie ignored my half-protest. We were cuddling very intimately on the couch. The house was empty, Jess had disappeared into the night and Lauren was in her room. This was way beyond friend-level affection, and I was too worried about getting caught to be relieved that my earlier transgressions seemed to have been forgotten.

Sophie squeezed me tight, then shifted so our faces were nearly touching. Sophie moved in to kiss me. Not a kiss on the cheek, nor a little peck on the lips like Sophie, herself, had once done. Like Lauren, Sophie had shifted straight into make out mode.

I did my best to slip from her grip before Sophie could complete the kiss. She was surprisingly strong, but I managed to escape. She grabbed me again, though, and held me centered. She leaned in again, this time pressing her lips to my ear.

"I want you to make love to me," Sophie said. Her tongue tickling on my sensitive flesh.

"What?! Sophie, no," I said.

Again, I pushed her off me. Did I want to have sex with Sophie? My conscious mind, my rational aspect, had already decided no. That what we were doing might be dangerous but full intercourse with my best friend was straight up wrong and so wouldn't happen.

But in my heart (and other places further south), I had to confess that the answer was yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes!

In that moment, though, that choice didn't matter. Sophie was too smashed for me to trust her. I didn't want her having regrets. Instead, I forcefully pushed her off me. Sophie fell back into the couch.

"I want to FUCK!" Sophie cried out, throwing her arms in the air. I looked around the room, but fortunately no one else heard her. Or at least they were polite enough to pretend they hadn't.

"Sophie, please be quiet," I said.

"Quiet me," Sophie said, "Stick that big dick inside and shut me up. Make me scream your name. Give it to me, Jeff. I need it."

"No," I said. I held Sophie forcefully by the shoulder.

"You don't want me?" Sophie asked. She shifted from lusty to sniffly in a second. It was a frighteningly fast transformation.

"You're drunk," I said.

"I'm fine," Sophie said, starting to stand up. "I thought you cared about me, but I guess I was wrong."

"I do care about you," I said, "I do want you." God it was hard to confess to it, but I knew I had to. It was freeing to finally speak it. Like jumping out of a plane. Thrilling and terrifying all at once. Heart racing. Stomach twisting. "But not like this."

"Why not?"

"You've had too much to drink," I said, "I won't take advantage of you. If you feel this way, sober, in the morning. We'll do it."

"I want it now," Sophie said, pouting. "This is your one chance, Jeff. You turn me down, you'll never get this pussy. You wont pop my cherry. You’ll never see my big tits or my sweet body. Don't you want it? Don't you want to fuck me? Give it to me good? Fill me up with all your naughty little spermies?"

"I do," I said. Well, maybe not that last part. Getting Sophie pregnant seemed like a really bad idea. But the rest of it? Yeah, I was up for that. But not if Sophie might not mean it.

"Then do it, or I'll find someone else who will," Sophie said.

Again, I searched the room while Sophie spoke, desperately hoping that no one could hear. I needed to get her out of there before she got herself in serious trouble. I wrapped my arm around her back and lifted her off the couch.

"Where are we going?" Sophie slurred as I slowly walked her back towards the stairs.

"Time for bed," I said.

"Finally!" Sophie said, "Took you long enough."

"Not like that," I said, "You need to sleep it off."

"What's the matter, Jeff, am I not hot enough for you?" Sophie asked, then belched. Her breath smelled like a still.

"Let's just get you some rest, OK?"

I helped Sophie up the stairs and led her back to her bedroom. The further we went, the slumpier she got, until I practically had to carry her through her doorway. Carefully, I lowered her onto her bed. She grunted lightly as she hit the mattress and then sighed, smacking her lips with sleep.

For a moment, a protective and perverse part of me considered stripping her out of her party outfit. But I decided it was probably safer to let her sleep it off in her dress. I ran off to the bathroom, grabbed a wastebasket, and put it next to her bed.

"If you need to throw up…" I told Sophie. She was already halfway to dreamland.

"You have to fuck me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I wasn't even sure if she was aware she was talking to me.

"In the morning," I said.

"No," Sophie said, grabbing my arm so tight, it felt like an eagle latching onto a branch. Her eyes went wide and suddenly she was wide awake. "Now! Do me right this second or it's over between us. You can go back to stroking it all by your sad self. I swear to God, it's now or never."

"Fine, we'll do it now," I said.

Sophie smiled at me, then softened. She let her head lay back on the pillow again. "Thaasss a good boy," she murmured. "Ravish me."

"I just need to get a condom real quick and I'll come right back."

"OK," Sophie said. Her eyes were already fluttering shut. "Come back and give it to me. So good."

I extricated my arm and tiptoed back from the bed. Sophie's eyes were shut. She was still murmuring, but I was pretty sure she was passed out or close to it.

When I got to the door, she repeated my name. I froze.

"I love you, Jeff," Sophie said, absently.

"I love you, too," I said.

"No, I mean I love you love you," Sophie said.

"Yes," I said, "Me too."

A moment later, Sophie went completely silent. I waited to make sure, then slipped back outside of her bedroom.

________

I never did find a condom but when her Mom and Dad returned a short time later I explained what had happened and they thanked me for being such a gentleman. Jessica wasn’t going to be coming back home so they offered me her bed to sleep in and I must admit… I was pretty exhausted. That had been a roller coaster of a day.

It was well after two in the morning when I climbed between Jessica’s perfumed sheets. It had been a long night and I was ready for a good night's sleep. The house was completely dark as everyone had apparently gone to bed. I was exhausted, but wide awake. My mind raced with everything that had happened with Sophie -- all that we'd said and done. And hadn't done.

Eventually I guess I fell asleep because the next memory I have is of someone knocking on Jessic’s bedroom door. It felt like they were beating on my skull. Too much alcohol and not enough sleep had left me in quite a state.

Carefully, I got up from bed. I realized I'd never changed out of my slacks and dress shirt from the night before. I limped to the door in the early morning light.

Sophie was on the other side, looking quite a wreck herself. Her dress was half off her shoulder and her golden blonde locks were sticking up all over the place, like a cruel parody of the big hair you'd see in an 80s TV show.

"Hi," Sophie said, looking down at her feet. "I think I threw up last night. In a trash can."

"I left it there for you," I said.

"I thought so," Sophie said, "I don't remember a lot of last night."

"You got drunk," I said.

"Figured that part out," Sophie said. She pushed past me and then dropped onto my bed. I was pleased to see (and smell) that she was at least vomit-free. She snuggled into the pillows. "I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing."

"You really don't remember?" I asked. I sat down next to her. Sophie quickly shied away. Like I'd shocked her.

"I remember drinking a lot," she said, "Last night was hard. It was super uncomfortable to be around those people and realise they have their own lives. You know? Like, when we needed help, where were they? But when we throw a party, they all show up."

"I know," I said, "It was hard for me, too. Do you remember bringing me over to say 'hi' to Lauren?"

"Sort of," Sophie said. She snuggled into my pillow more. "I remember Lauren and I were talking, and she saw you. She said you'd gotten, like, super-hot. I'm sorry, Sophie. I thought about what you'd told me before. About how you'd think about her when we... It made me jealous. I know it shouldn't have. It's not fair, but it did."

"It's OK," I said, "I think I'd feel the same way if one of my friends was perving on you."

"Or if Randy Hotguy was at the party, putting the moves on me?" Sophie asked. She gave me a smirk and, despite it all, she looked so beautiful lying on her big sisters bed in the morning sun.

"Yeah, fuck that guy," I said.

"Well, I kinda couldn't handle it with Lauren," Sophie said, "So I told myself it was funny, instead, and tried to make a whole joke out of it. And then you were flirting with her for real and I got really upset. Like, even more than before."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"Of course, you should have!" Sophie said, giving me a shove. "She's a hot girl and she's totally into you. You don't owe me anything, I'm your friend. I don't have any right to get in your way."

"Still, though," I said, "I could tell it was hurting your feelings."

"Yeah, so I went to go drink more after that," Sophie said, "And then I woke up in my own bed. I guess you helped me. I didn't, um, do anything else, did I? Nothing embarrassing?"

I looked down at the hardwood floor. "You're fine," I said.

"Oh no," Sophie said, "I didn't hook up with some dude, did I? Or worse, one of our stupid, ugly cousins?"

"No, nothing like that," I said.

"Come on Jeff, what happened?"

"You don't remember any of it?" I asked.

"I swear I don't," Sophie said.

"I, um, well I found you sitting on the couch. And you kind of, um, propositioned me."

"Propo-wha?"

"You told me you wanted to have sex. With me. Right there."

"Oh shit."

"You were, um, kind of explicit, being honest," I said.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Sophie said, "Look, Jeff, that whole thing about 'truth-in-alcohol,' you know that's not true, right? Like, I don't want to. It's not that I don't think you're... Oh, Goddammit."

"It's OK," I said, "I get it. You were drunk. I knew it too. You don't have to explain yourself."

"But you didn't," Sophie said, "I mean, we didn't have sex."

"No."

"Even though I kind of forced myself on you?"

"Not gonna lie," I said, "You didn't make it easy." I intentionally eyed Sophie's body and she immediately understood. "But no. I figured, if it was something you wanted, it could wait till we were both sober."

"Thanks Jeff," Sophie said. She sat up and kissed me on the cheek. All things considered, her breath wasn't all that bad. "I'm sorry I said those things to you. I shouldn't have. Look, I don't want to hurt your feelings. You know I care for you a lot. And what we've been doing, I mean, it's awesome. But we aren’t going to do that. No matter what I said in the moment."

"No, I get it."

"You're not mad?" Sophie asked.

"No, I agree," I said, "That's too far. Even for us."

"OK. Thanks. Seriously," Sophie said, "I know a lot of guys wouldn't... Anyway, I'm lucky to have you in my life."

"I'm lucky to have you, too."

We shared a quick, chaste hug. It felt nice to hold my curvy best friend in my arms. I could feel myself responding so I stepped back. An erection was not at all appropriate for that moment.

"I'm going to go clean up," Sophie said as we broke. "I need to apologise to Lauren for getting smashed on her birthday. Buy Mom and Dad a replacement trashcan. Make a fresh commitment to Jesus."

"I support your new life choices," I said.

Sophie got up and tousled my hair. "You should clean up, too," she said, "You look like crap."

It seemed a lifetime ago since Lauren and I had masturbated for each other, but neither one of us had made the slightest mention of it the next morning. I helped her parents clean the house while Sophie nursed her hangover with the help of her little sister.

There had been a few awkward moments over the next few days after our conversation, the relationship between Lauren and I had returned to normal, with Lauren doing her thing and me doing mine. I had chalked the whole experience up to a couple of horny kids who let a conversation about sex go way too far.

Things slowly settled back into normal. Well, almost normal, in any case.

We spent the whole day cleaning the house -- it was quite an undertaking after the evening before. Sophie was clearly not the only person to have gotten a little out of hand.

As I was wiping down the dining room table, and the sister’s working on the living room, their Mom pulled at my elbow. She motioned for me to join her in the kitchen. She looked very serious -- her mouth turned down like it was meant to make that shape.

"I saw what happened with you and my daughter last night," her Mom said.

Oh no.

"Oh God, I can..."

"I just want you to know," their Mom continued, breaking through me like a battering ram. "I'm really proud of you."

"Wait, what?"

"Sophie was way too drunk last night. You saw what was happening and stepped in. Took care of her."

"Oh, yes," I said, "Yes, I did."

"You're a good friend," she said, "I know this has been hard on you. It's been rough on all of us. But throughout it all, I think you've managed to do just be there for her… for them. You've been steady, a rock the whole family can rely on."

"Thanks," I said. I hadn't realised that she saw me that way. I'd never thought about things from that perspective.

"You've given up a lot. I'd understand if you needed time, you know, to let your guard down, or whatever. Blow off some steam. But in the meantime, I want to thank you. For everything. You’re already a part of this family, remember that."

"It's fine," I said.

It truly was.

The next day marked the last week in August. Her parents and Jessica went back to work. Lauren started going out with friends for her last, pre-high school, hurrahs. For our part, Sophie and I hung out but not like before. She insisted she didn't remember what had happened the night of the party, but the change in our relationship was there, just the same.

Finally, a full three days following the incident, Sophie jutted her chin my way and we ended up in her bedroom. We didn't touch each other or speak; we went back to the basics. A quick press and that was it. But it felt like a breakthrough.

"Turns out being behaved is kind of boring," Sophie said with a shrug after we'd both peaked. I had to agree with her, of course. I assumed that was it, and we'd go back to this way of existing for a little while longer.

But something was different. The idea of intercourse had entered our minds. We'd joked about it before. Taunted and teased. Now though, it felt more like a when than an if. Even though neither of us would admit it to ourselves. Let alone each other.

________

Once again I had been invited to Sophie’s house. She was home alone and thoughts of just how far the boundaries of our friendship could be tested flooded my mind. I wanted her. I loved her. But I also loved and respected her family. The door ws unlocked and I let myself in, heading up the familiar stairs. Sophie was in her bedroom when I saw her. She was wearing a pair of red, bikini cut panties, a yellow blouse, and nothing else. She was lying on her tummy on the floor, facing the far wall, her legs kicked up in the air. Golden hair pooled on the carpet. She had on her headphones, listening to music, and was lost to the world. But to me it looked exactly like she was pressing.

I don't know why I did it. Well, I know why. But not why that moment or why that way. I stepped into Sophie's room. I knelt behind her. And before she became aware of my presence, I climbed on top of her, lowering my shorts-clad crotch onto her panty-covered bottom.

Sophie gasped, then stilled. I waited for her to throw me off, to tell me no, but she didn't. Sophie held in place. My hard-on poking into her perfect ass.

I took it as permission and pressed down. I heard Sophie gasp as the first bits of pleasure filled me. The softness of her bottom, the warmth of her body, it was perfect for what we were doing. Sophie arched herself upward to meet my thrusts.

"Jeff," she said, and I knew that she was about to put a stop to this. I lifted myself off her ass. "This would be better with just underwear."

I froze. Obviously, I wasn't expecting that. I took off my shorts and tossed them to the side. Now in boxers, I leaned back down on top of Sophie. Grinding down, I had to admit this did feel way better. The danger of it only amplifying what we were doing.

We lay like that, moving against each other. When we'd done this before, there had always been this sense of urgency. Even when we had all afternoon to get off, we always raced through.

This time, though, was different. We took our time. I don't know whether it was the position we were in, or the feelings we'd expressed, but we didn't rush. It was almost leisurely. The two of us slowly grinding against each other, savoring every sensation.

But something else was also happening. The previously mentioned precarious nature of the fly of my boxers meant that, as I humped into Sophie's ass, my penis was starting to pop free. I could feel the fabric of Sophie's panties tickle the skin of my dick with each press.

Sophie must have felt it too. She reached back with her hand, stopping our coupling. I thought, once again, that she was drawing the line.

Instead, she pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them off. She lay back down on her tummy.

"Sophie, are you sure?" I asked. The argument roiled inside me; I could almost picture a chivalrous knight fighting a crazed barbarian. A funny metaphor for what I was feeling. And I'm sure you can figure out who was winning.

Sophie tapped her headphones, as if to say that she couldn't hear me over her music. I supposed that was my answer. I took off my own underwear. Both of us were now naked from the waist down. I lay down on top of Sophie. My cock nestled in that most precarious of places.

Bare skin to bare skin. I could feel the heat of her pussy, emanating out like a tiny sun. My hardness against her soft, wet spot. I didn't need to move; this was already beyond anything I'd ever felt.

But I did move. I pressed down. Sophie rubbed up at the same time. The two of us groaned in unison. We didn't need words. We humped against each other. Totally connected. Well, almost totally. Our bodies decided to fix that distinction for us.

The first time, the head of my penis grazed Sophie's pussy so slightly, I hardly noticed.

The second time, my dick actually held for a moment, right at the entry to Sophie's pussy, before slipping away.

The third time, my cock actually went inside. No more than an inch. Barely the head of my head. And yet.

Both of us froze there. Right on the precipice of penetrative sex. I waited for Sophie to tell me 'no.' I waited for my own conscience to cry out. None of that happened. Instead we both sat up.

Sophie was blushing but determined as she started undoing the buttons of her blouse. I was getting lucky. Once Sophie's blouse was off and she had slipped off her headphones, she seemed to freeze, not knowing what to do next. Manfully I stepped into the breach, first unclipping her bra.

I think I mentioned that she was a very attractive package. Naked, I have to upgrade that rating and mark her as sensational. It was at this point that I decided to deviate from her planned course and start prodding around the edges of a situation too good to be true.

I sat on the side of her bed, smiling and letting my appreciation of Sophie's figure show. I reached out and took her hand and drew her towards me. She was trembling like a deer, wondering if the wolf pack was closing in.

Still smiling, I suddenly flipped her across my knee and spanked her hard, giving her half a dozen solid smacks on her pretty little tush.

I then flipped her around again, sat her on the bed and glared at her.

"Now, sweetheart," I said, "you will tell me precisely what you think you're doing and why you're doing it. You can tell me sitting there, or you can tell me while you're across my knee having your bottom spanked, but tell me you will."

Sophie was astounded. I was supposed to be kissing and seducing her, or being seduced by her, not spanking her and making demands.

She dithered for a moment, and tried to bluff, but as soon as I went to put her across my knee again she collapsed and started crying and trying to talk through the tears.

Not understanding a word she was saying, all I could do was draw her to me and hold her while she cried on my shoulder. Not that this was any hardship. I defy any man to not feel really masculine when a delectable and naked young woman is cuddling you and crying in your arms.

Eventually the crying stopped and Sophie seemed ready to talk, so I sat back, prepared to listen.

"It's Lauren," Sophie told me.

"Lauren?"

"She asked me if she could date you… and by date you, she meant-," she said.

“I understand. It’s ok. I’m not going to have a relationship with your sister if it means losing you.”

"I was wondering what to do," Sophie continued, "and then I realised I have been denying you… denying myself… all these years."

I was speechless. But not for long. I thought the whole thing over and then told her in a calm and considered way that I thought she might be making a little error.

“We don’t need to do this just because you fear losing me. I am always going to be here for you.”

Sophie was crying again now, but also looking belligerent.

"Just go away," she said. "It's my problem and I'll work it out."

"No. I'm your problem. In case you haven't noticed, you're naked, and I’m naked and we need to talk this through."

"I want you to choose me..."

"Now that I know what you’re worried about, I'm quite willing to go along with you to a point. Are you prepared to listen to my suggestions?"

Sophie glared at me, but nodded.

"OK. Earlier, you were gritting your teeth and preparing to lie back and think of giving me something so very precious because of your sister. Now you are much more relaxed, assuming that it is not going to happen, and you've been too upset with everything to even remember why we do this."

Sophie flushed at this point and covered her breasts, but didn't really resist when I gently pushed her hands back down away from them.

"Now what I propose is that I will make love to you for a while, getting you used to having a man touch you and letting you get used to touching a man. We don't have to have sex. We can always leave that for another time.But I am not going to just be a one night stand. If we start making out tonight, I will expect to see you every night for at least the next week. Then when we do make love, you will have some idea of what you're doing and, on subsequent days, I'll be able to teach each other more."

"But we won't be having sex tonight?" Sophie said.

"Not unless you really want to," I told her. "Are you on the pill?"

When she shook her head the next question was obvious.

"Did you do anything about getting yourself some condoms?"

At her shocked look, I assumed no.

"So how did you intend to protect yourself from unwanted pregnancy?"

The thought had obviously never crossed her mind. All she had been concentrating on was getting her hands, and other parts, onto the object of her little sister's desires.

"It doesn't matter right now," I told her. "Do you… want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Jeff. Are you prepared to give us a go?"

I spent some time thinking. Her initial plan had been to get laid and then get me out. Now she had to consider if she was willing to spend the week learning about sex, and us becoming more than just friends. I finally nodded.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, and I could see her nerves and the fear of the unknown emerging, along with a flicker of interest. She was finally starting to get curious about what was going to happen.

"I am going to sit down and enjoy the cup of coffee we're going to make together," I said. "No, don't worry, you won't need to get dressed to make it. You can do it while undressed and it will help you to relax with being nude in front of me. Besides," I added, "you have a nice figure and I like looking at it."

Finally, a bit of her spirit started to re-emerge.

"If I have to make it naked, then it's only fair that you should be naked as well," she said defiantly, "so I can get used to seeing a naked man."

I bowed my head in acknowledgement and removed all my clothes. Sophie was blushing, but not backing down, and she watched with interest as I stripped. She blushed even deeper as she realised I still had an erection, and she looked pointedly elsewhere.

We returned to the kitchen where I sat and watched while Sophie made the coffee.

Who knew that having a cup of coffee could be so erotic?

Sophie started off slowly, trying to hide her body while she worked, knowing that she was naked and being watched by a naked man.

And then it slowly dawned on her that she was NAKED and that she was being WATCHED by a NAKED MAN. Her breast swelled slightly, causing her nipples to become erect and her breasts and nipples brought themselves sharply to her mind. Suddenly Sophie was standing slightly straighter, throwing her shoulders back a little and projecting her bosom.

I suspected from the way she started to sway when she walked that she was also starting to get hot and wet, and was becoming even more acutely aware of herself and the fact that I was watching her. And she was enjoying it. It was exciting and it was turning her on.

I have to admit that Sophie's gathering excitement was also turning me on. Even more so, I should say, as I'm sure my cock set some sort of record for instant erection when I first saw her naked.

Anyway, we sat and enjoyed our coffee, and if Sophie seemed to need to pick up her cup and replace it every few sips, with the accompanying swaying of a pair of lovely breasts, what could I do but enjoy the show?

All good things must come to an end, and eventually we finished our coffee. Sophie put the cups on the sink while I just pushed my chair back a little from the table.

When Sophie turned from the sink to look at me, I just held out my hand to her while continuing to sit. Sophie walked towards me and took my hand and I drew her close and directed her gently down onto my lap.

I could see she was a little nervous about having my erection pressed into her side, but I ignored it, just turning her face slightly to face me so that I could kiss her. This time, the tension that had been there earlier was gone, replaced by an honest curiosity.

We just kissed naturally, with me holding her gently, until by some chance my hand reached up and cupped Sophie's breast. She froze for a moment, waiting, but when I did nothing more she resumed kissing me.

Very soon I was playing freely with her breasts, taking it slowly and letting Sophie get used to the feelings my hand coaxed out of her, enjoying hearing her gasp as I pinched her nipples slightly.

It seemed right after a while to drop my head to her breast and start kissing them lightly, tonguing them and sucking lightly on her nipples. With my hands now being in the way I just let it slip down Sophie's body until it was resting in her lap.

Sophie promptly dropped her hand to cover mine, not wanting it to go exploring just yet, but that she quickly found was an error. I promptly guided her hand around to where my erection was pressing lightly against her side, and directed it to touch me.

Sophie let her hand just lie next to my erection, feeling it pressing against her hand but not actually taking hold of it. My hand drifted back to her lap and was gently stroking her mons, with the occasional bit of pressure to pass the message deeper into her.

I continued nibbling and paying attention to Sophie's breasts, not rushing anything, not trying to ease her thighs apart so I could explore deeper, and not pressuring her to actually do anything to my cock.

After a while I could hear her breathing tense a little as she made a decision, and then her hand closed smoothly over my cock and started to explore it. At the same time her thighs relaxed a little more so there was room for me to slip my hand between them if I wanted to.

If I wanted to? Of course I bloody wanted to, but the time wasn't right. I continued to take things slowly, letting Sophie's excitement build, creeping up on her, not charging up and scaring her.

I also wanted to tell her the sort of things she could be doing to my cock with that little hand she had holding it, following with suggestions describing the things a warm and wet mouth could also do to me. And I would, sometime during the coming week, I most definitely would.

Instead, I suggested that maybe we would be more comfortable in her bedroom, where we could continue her education lying down.

This time I escorted her to the bedroom, gently walking her in and easing her onto the bed, where I lay down beside her.

"Now," I murmured, "if I remember correctly, I was getting acquainted with your breasts."

Leaning over her, I again started to muzzle her breasts, maintaining a nice tension in them. At the same time I shifted my position so that her hand fell onto my erection, apparently of its own accord, and Sophie again started her hesitant exploration.

The main difference now was that my hand was extending its reach, happily sliding between Sophie's thighs, pressing and stroking her labia, lightly scratching her inner lips as she slowly flowered under my touch, encouraging deeper exploration. Deeper exploration is what she got.

It wasn't long before my fingers were delving between her lips and pressing inside her, tracing along her inner paths. She gasped when I pressed a finger lightly against her hymen, knowing that the only time she'd be closer to losing her virginity would be when it actually happened.

Moving away from her hymen and vaginal passage, my fingers drifted around inside her, finally touching on and teasing Sophie's clit. She gave a little scream when I did that, her hips lifting off the bed in shock. She dropped my cock at this point, trying to concentrate on the teasing I was doing with her clitoris, not knowing if she should be demanding I stop or begging for more.

From the slight groan she gave when I drew back, I suspect she wanted to demand more.

At this stage I reached off the bed and groped for my trousers. Or to be more precise, the pocket of my trousers and the little packages I had in there. I extracted those little packets and tossed them onto the bedside table, bar one which I kept.

"At some stage," I said as I relaxed next to her, "you're going to have to work out how to put one of these on a boy. Why don't you try it with me?"

Sophie looked at the condom and then at my cock and blushed, but as I mentioned earlier, she had spirit. She glanced at the instruction on the packet and then took me in hand and started rolling it on as though she'd done it a hundred times before. She had it over half on before she gave a little jerk, and turned to look at me with her eyes opened very, very, wide.

It had suddenly dawned on her that the only reason she had to put a condom on me was because it was going to be needed. Her eyes switched back to the task she was doing, and she completed it and then sank back onto the bed without looking at me.

“Jeff, there’s something else?”

“What’s that?”

“I meant what I said.”

“When?”

“When I propositioned you for sex.” She looked directly into my eyes, “I’m in love with you.”

“I meant it too… I love you, ophie.”

"Wait...wait," she said, exhaling heavily, trying to catch her breath, "just… one second."

"Is everything ok?" I was very confused, and not in the mood to be teased.

"Everything's perfect Jeff, it's just...if we do this," she moved her hair from her face, " if we have sex, we can't go back. What I wanted to tell you was… I love you. Not in a family way and not as a friend, but I'm in love with you. Are you ready for that?"

"Sophie," I looked into her deep blue eyes, I couldn't break my gaze, "I have loved you for so long… and I'm prepared to love you everyday for the rest of my life."

"No one can know, Jeff. We have to keep this a secret. My sisters couldn't handle it."

"I know, I know… I'm ok with that as long as you are."

“Then I am ready for you… lover.”

“We don’t have to-”

“Fuck me…” she breathed.

I hooked one of her ankles with one of mine and gently but steadily moved her legs a lot further apart. Her body responded smoothly, and I could tell that although physically she was ready, mentally she still wasn't sure.

I moved between her legs, positioning myself for what was to come, and then I reached up and turned her head so that she was looking directly at me. Keeping my eyes firmly on her, I pressed my erection against her slit, moving it slightly to ease her lips a little further apart, then pressing the head slowly between her lips and into her.

Sophie was looking at me, hard, wanting to look down and watch was happening to her body, but also desperate for the encouragement I was giving her. I wasn't sure what I was saying but it obviously worked, as a tiny smile flittered across her face before a look of concentration came upon it.

I could feel her hips lifting slightly, encouraging my entry, assisting me to push home and down a warm tight passage. I don't think either of us really noticed when I pushed past her hymen, brushing it aside like a stray cobweb. Sophie may have winced slightly, but she was concentrating too hard on these new and exciting feelings to worry about a little twinge of pain.

Now that I was in Sophie I was quite content to just rest for a moment, enjoying the feel of her surrounding me. Sophie, for her part, also seemed happy to just rest, getting used to the feeling of having a man inside her.

We lay quietly, joined together, neither speaking. Then Sophie took a big breath and wriggled slightly against me, wanting more than just having me there, even if she wasn't sure what the more she wanted was. In return, I wriggled slightly back at her, laughing at her sudden intake of breath.

Deciding the time for more vigorous action had come, I slowly pulled out, watching Sophie's eyes widen at the slow drag of my cock inside her, and then hearing her give a little cry as I thrust sharply back inside her.

Again I did a slow withdrawal with a sharp return, feeling Sophie starting to move in unison with me. Soon I was moving faster, setting up a nice rocking motion, getting Sophie to match me as I moved.

I'm not sure what I was saying to her, but I was whispering words of encouragement as Sophie thrust herself up to match whatever I was doing. We fell into a steady rhythm, letting our own pleasures blossom and grow while contributing to the enjoyment of each other.

The foreplay we had indulged in had left Sophie's body ready for the culmination, and now that we were actually in session, so to speak, her climax was coming up fast.

Not quite fast enough for me, however, as I could feel my own climax rushing down upon me, and I was in no mood to try to hold it off. Thrusting sharply, I still managed to slip a hand between us, darting my finger into Sophie and flicking her clit again.

The extra touch was like lighting the fuse. She screamed and exploded under me, while my own climax hammered into her.

Afterwards we lay for a while, still joined, relishing the quiet contentment coming from pleasure mutually shared.

Then I withdrew, making a quick trip to the en suite to remove the condom and cleaning myself before returning with a warm cloth and towel so that I could help Sophie clean up.

Then we resumed the quiet lying together, neither interested in speaking.

Sophie was half asleep, cuddling me, when I asked her the question.

"Would you like me to go home now, or would you rather I stay the night? I'd rather I spend the night here, and we can continue this in the morning."

Sophie didn't actually say either way, she just opened her eyes a bit wider and smiled, then snuggled closer holding me there. I didn't fight it.

________

'Wake up Jeff. We did it! We’re no longer virgins!"

I looked at the clock beside my bed and groaned. It was only 3am. Sophie moved her body over mine on the bed and grabbed my wrists. She leaned forward and began to lick my face. I always hated when she did that when we were kids. I began to buck my hips to push her off me. Suddenly Sophie gave a jump and pulled her face away from mine. She got a devilish look on her face. I looked from her face to her chest for a fraction of a second. She was still completely naked.

Suddenly Sophie was leaning in and I thought she was going to lick me again. My hips shot up again and Sophie ground down against me. Now I knew what had caught her attention. I had morning wood and when I bucked against her she felt it hit her. She locked her lips to mine and began to kiss me. She kept trying to push her tongue into my mouth and I was slowly losing my resolve.

Sophie was grinding her pussy against my cock as it strained against her vulva. Sophie began to moan and I opened my lips and let her tongue invade my mouth.

Sophie's grip on my arms loosened and instead of pushing her off I slid my hands under her, found her breasts and a second later her nipples. I began to stroke and lightly pinch her nipples while our tongues twined together and her hips ground against my hard on.

I kept playing with her tits as we kissed. I took my right hand and slid it slowly down her belly until I found the top of her panties. She let me roll her over to her back as I began to stroke her clit before finding her gash with my middle finger.

"Suck my nipples again, Jeff."

I moved down and sucked her left nipple into my mouth I flicked the pebble like nub a few times with my tongue before nipping it between my teeth and pulling away gently. Sophie pushed her hips against my finger as I inserted into her pussy.

I threw the sheet off my body and Sophie began to drool at the sight of my throbbing member, She gripped it tight in her hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"If you do that too much longer I'll cum all over the bed." I warned her.

She released my cock long enough to strip her sodden panties and then she had me in hand just a millisecond before she had me in her mouth. There was no slow encapsulation, Sophie swallowed my member whole. I felt the head bump against her soft palate just before her throat opened and accepted it. She had both hands on my hips and was directing me fuck her face.

I was in heaven as Sophie licked and sucked my cock with the head going into her throat every three or four strokes. I was on the edge of blowing my load.

"I'm going to cum, Sophie."

She just kept sucking away like I hadn't said a thing. My balls started to tingle and my cock got thicker. Sophie held my cock in her throat as the first jet of cum shot out. Then she pulled back keeping a tight seal with her lips as I kept pumping jet after jet of cum into her mouth. I could feel Sophie swallowing while I came. When I was totally spent Sophie sucked even harder as she milked the last drops of cum out of my shaft.

Before she could say a word I grabbed her hips and flipped her to her back just before diving in to lick her pussy. I lifted her hips with my hands to give me better access to the whole slit. My tongue was moving up and down and in and out. I found her clit and began to focus all my teasing there as I worked my left hand free so I could plunge my fingers inside her. Sophie was moaning non stop as I worked my magic with my tongue. Suddenly my hearing went dead as she clamped her thighs to my head and Sophie's whole body went rigid as she had her first orgasm of the morning.

I stopped everything until she relaxed her hold on my head. Once I could move I slid up her body and kissed her mouth hungrily, Sophie turned around and went down on all fours. I knelt behind her, reached down and put the head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and I thrust inside in one fast push.

"Yes, let’s do it like this!."

I just nodded and went in for another kiss. Gradually Sophie began to roll her hips. I took my cue and began to thrust in and out matching her rhythm. I sucked her right nipple into my mouth and Sophie cried out my name as she had another small orgasm. I could feel her pussy convulsing on my cock as I thrust inside. Because I had cum in her mouth I was going to last a lot longer.

Sophie began to urge me faster and faster and soon I was pounding away as fast as I could while she rolled her hips from side to side. Sophie began to cum harder than she had the first two times. It was hard for me to keep my speed with her pussy grabbing at my cock. I slowed my pace until she came down a little from her orgasm. Once again Sophie was crying out for me to pound her fast. I was drilling her into the mattress when suddenly I felt my balls tingling again. As my cock thickened Sophie wrapped her legs around my hips and refused to let me pull out.

“Keep fucking me!”

I pushed forward a little further. Sophie lifted her hips to ease my passage. My head snuck in. Halfway down my shaft. I pulled back. Thrust again. Sophie grunted. Finally, I was fully buried inside Sophie's body. Without a condom between us the sensations felt hotter, wetter and one million times better.

“I’m not wearing a condom!”

Sophie turned and looked back at me. Her expression was unreadable -- a mix of total joy and absolute concern. Fear, desire, sadness, exultation. All in one. I was feeling it too.

I drew back slightly, then pushed forward. Sophie's face twisted as the sensation overtook her. Eyes rolled back. Lips curled. She turned forward, resting her head on her arms.

We rolled against each other. Together, truly, for the first time. I heard Sophie make all those familiar noises I'd known from before -- the little gasps and groans. Squeaks and mewls. But now they were coming because of me.

"So good," she gasped.

I couldn't respond, already wrapped up in my own pleasure. The heat of Sophie's pussy, her warmth and wetness, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Amplifying everything from simple sex to something beyond what we have words for. Intimate beyond intimacy.

I was fucking Sophie. I couldn't get past that fact. It was integral to the experience. The wrongness of what we were doing. The rightness of it. Everything about the physical act was overwhelmed by the emotional part of it.

I reached my hands down and found Sophie's amazing breasts. I squeezed those massive mounds, using them like handholds, as I humped Sophie from behind. I didn't ever want this to end.

"Getting... close," Sophie said. Her voice strained. God, I wanted her to cum so bad. But her words had a secondary effect.

"Me too," I said. I was very aware, then, of what we were doing. Had done. The consequences racing towards me, but I couldn't look away.

"Don't stop," Sophie said.

Our movements became frenzied. Moving in synchronicity; racing in opposite directions -- Sophie trying frantically to reach her orgasm, me trying desperately to escape mine.

"Don't stop," Sophie said it again. "Don't you dare stop."

"Trying..."

“Cum inside me, Jeff.”

Sophie's body undulated under me. Even though I was on top, she was clearly in control. She arched and shimmied. Rubbed and cinched. Moved her body on my cock like I was only an object. Faster. Faster.

Finally, she stopped. Stilled.

"Ohhhhh" the word slipped out of her like steam. Pitch rising till it left my spectrum.

I'd seen Sophie's orgasm so many times, I could replay it in detail on the back of my eyelids. Heard it so often, I could write it as a symphony. Even smelled it, her femininity filling my nostrils as she flooded.

But I'd never felt Sophie's cum before.

Her pussy clamped down, sealing shut like it was one of those vacuum storage bags. Air tight. Her butt slammed downward. Her back arched. We don't need to invent a cock-milking machine. Sophie already has the perfect one built in.

"Sophie, I'm..." My inner knight took one final, desperate swing.

"Dooooon't. Stooooop," Sophie said, a low deep rumble I could barely make out.

It didn't matter what she'd said. It was already too late. The pleasant tingle in my penis turned into a spark, racing fire down my shaft and straight into Sophie's unprotected pussy.

I let out a long, strangled cry. A river of sperm burst into Sophie's snatch, while an ocean of illicit bliss rolled over my body. I jammed my dick as deep as it would go. Squeezed Sophie's breasts so hard, there would be bruises after. Pressed as hard as I could as plume after plume of pleasure arced out of me.

Vaguely, I was aware of the woman beneath me, enduring her own ecstasy. She told me after, feeling my hot cum splash against her cervix had triggered a chain reaction, taking her already extant orgasm and exacerbating it. Like pumping gasoline into a fire.

Sophie burst. Her brain blew out. Her body shivered and shook. Wordless, primal sounds escaped her lips. She came like she was crazed by it. Like I'd unlocked the higher function of her pleasure centers. Both of us awash in the chemicals of reproduction. Oxytocin and dopamine. Endorphins and adrenaline.

My cock finally gave up trying to find more cum to pump into Sophie's fertile pussy. It didn't shrink, so much as it lay down, exhausted. Sophie's body went limp. I fell with her. Her soft skin felt almost too hot. We rolled off each other, sweaty.

We laid there still coupled until my cock softened and slid softly out followed by a stream of my cum. Sophie and I were touching each other all over exploring with our hands. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one out of the bed.

"I need to wake you up like this more often. That was fun."

"I could get used to it. But I think going to sleep like that once in a while would be fun too."

"Oh fuck," Sophie said. I couldn't tell if it was in celebration or regret. Maybe a bit of both.

She rolled over and sat up. Absently, she dipped her fingers in her pussy. They came out covered in white goop.

"Oh fuck," she said it again. "Oh, fuck me."

Reality raced over me. That post-cum rationality burst forth. What we did. What we'd done. Whatever post-sex satisfaction I had earned was obliterated by guilt. I'd just had sex with Sophie. Changed our relationship forever. Inseminated her unprotected pussy. All of it. My most forbidden dream. My totally enrapturing nightmare.

"Sophie, I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to." My apology felt so stupid in my own mouth, I couldn't imagine how idiotic I sounded to Sophie.

Sophie didn't say anything. She rolled over and held me tight, like cradling a crying baby. Her bare bottom pressed against mine. I felt a stream of my own semen drip out of her pussy and land, warm, on my thigh. The tickle of her pubic hair on my rapidly shrinking cock.

"It's OK," Sophie said, shushing me. "It's alright. But if we fuck as much as that I'm going to need to go on the pill."

Of course it was too late for that. One of my little swimmers had already found one of her eggs.

We stayed like that, half naked in her bedroom, holding each other close for as long as we could. Neither of us knowing what to say. What to do.

Staring down a suddenly very uncertain future. She kissed me and snuck out to the bathroom as I headed downstairs to grab another coffee and do some cleaning of my own.

I kept the lights off as I made my way up the stairs, as all of the bedrooms were located on the same second floor hallway, though on opposite ends. Entering Sophie’s room, I noticed she was back in bed and fast asleep. I listened at Lauren’s door but there were no signs of life. I decided to head to Jessica’s bedroom and once inside began to strip down and felt the cool breeze from the open window flowing across the room. As I kicked my clothes to the wall, I moved toward the bed.

CLICK

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden and unexpected burst of light from my table lamp, I was stunned to see Lauren lying in her big sister’s bed, a thin, white sheet giving the slightest hint of her nude figure underneath.

"Wha, what are you doing here," I stammered as I stopped in my tracks, unsure of just what direction my life was now about to turn.

"Oh nothing," Lauren replied matter-of-factly, a wry smile spreading across her face as she turned off the light. "I just wanted to see if you remembered anything I taught you."

#lovers #fucking #Jessica #Lauren #Sophie #redhead #Blonde #first time #just friends #Popping cherry #losing virginity

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