| Straight: Humor/Satire: Pink Panties (1/5) |
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It all began on a foggy Sunday afternoon. We were lazing around the house, each of us nursing a hangover, wearing what little we had gone to sleep in when we realized it was one o’clock in the afternoon. We made a strong pot of coffee and grubbed whatever was edible in the refrigerator. Taking our plates and cups to the living-room we curled up on the sofa to discuss what had happened the night before. She told me about what and who she saw and I compared it to my vague recollection of the events. “What was his name?” I asked and she laughed. That laugh only a girlfriend can give when she knows exactly what you’ve done. Refueling complete we were on to our next adventure. We shared the shower. As she washed my long red hair she began to ask the questions I always dreaded. I wasn’t as into sex as she was. In fact I didn’t really enjoy it. I enjoyed the flirting and attracting attention. Sex was just something I did as a thank you for your time and attention. “Did you blow him?” “No,” I retorted her hands massaged my scalp. “Did you touch him at all?” “You know I didn’t.” I leaned to put my hands on the shower rail, her massage weakening my resistance. “How big was he?” she asked as she pulled the suds from the scalp to the ends of the hair dangling across my ass. “Not as big as Randy,” and together we said “bigger than Todd.” Our private joke about my permanent booty call, Todd was the only man I let make me cum. He used his fingers slowly and methodically. He always took the time to find my G spot and never stopped until I was whimpering in satisfaction. The other bonus was he never asked to fuck. He is small, very small and could cum himself just fingering me. He loves to watch me cum. It worked for us but my friend thinks it’s freaky. I turned to rinse my hair. Then it was my turn to scrub her body. I filled the washcloth with thick suds and started at the tight muscles in her shoulders. Rubbing and massaging away the tightness a week as a hairdresser creates. She didn’t talk while I washed her. I could feel her body begin to relax as I thoroughly washed from shoulder to knee. I handed her the cloth, allowing her to wash the only spot we have an unspoken agreement to be untouched. I conditioned my hair then rubbed the leftover conditioner on Angie’s breast as I reached around her. “He said he’d see me later,” I offered her. “Yeah, right, that’s if he can find you. Trish, I’m not even a man and you sexually frustrate the hell out of me.” I left her in the shower, got out and began to dry off. As she finally joined me I announced I needed to practice for the tournament the next night. “Can’t understand why you play that stupid game,” she declared, rubbing her short brown tresses between a thick cotton towel. Her spikes stood straight up as she admired them before finishing her hateful thoughts concerning me playing pool. “Trish, you are a lady. You look like a lady, smell like a lady. I bet you even taste like a lady. Why do you play pool?” “It’s not boring. It’s |
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Great Job!
