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The Hot Tub [f/f]
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
18 will be allowed in the theater. Seriously, this is intended only for
adults, and those not old enough (by whatever local standards are in
effect in your area) are admonished not to read any further.
Author's note:
This is my first story attempt. It may be boring to some of you.
It is, I guess, predominantly high school F/F with some voyeurism,
exibitionism, and masturbation, as well as some reminisces of M/F.
There's no real explicit sex and involves a great deal of setup and
digressions. It may be continued. Or maybe not. I liked it, of course. :)
THE HOT TUB
by The Doctor
My parents had a hot tub installed in our house when I was 16.
Although throughout high school I imagined (and tried to bring about)
schemes to get boys into the tub without my parent's knowledge, these
plans inevitably stayed only in my overheated imagination. I ended up,
therefore, either hot-tubbing alone or with my best friend, Jennifer.
Jennifer was six months older than me and my best friend at
school. We were both "cute" and fairly popular, but not leaders in either
department. At 5'8, she was about 3 inches taller than me and had
shoulder length dirty blonde hair. I would have killed for her eyes, the
deepest, purest blue you've ever seen. To her perpetual despair, she had
small boobs; although they were firm and very nicely shaped with small
dark nipples, she wished for something much larger than the B-cup she
wore. We were the second and third legs of the 4x400 relay team on the
track team at school, which, although we were certainly no threats to the
state record, managed to keep us in pretty good shape.
Anyway, Jennifer was driving me home after track practice in the
early spring just a few days after the tub was installed.
"God, I'm so sore. I can't wait to get home to try out this hot
tub," I groaned.
She didn't seem to notice me.
"Why doesn't he ask me out?!" she suddenly cried out. "Why
doesn't he notice me?!"
"Uh, hello?" I answered.
She was getting more agitated. "I mean, is it too much to ask
that he even say 'Hi, Jennifer'?"
I tried a different approach, "Oh, I see," I shook my head.
"...yet again. Who are you after this time?"
She gave a dirty look in response, then grinned self-consciously
and said, "Andy Westin."
Andy was an older guy from the neighborhood who we had both
alternately lusted after since well before we knew what "lusting after"
was really all about.
I rolled my eyes. "Andy Westin? Oh, *maybe* he doesn't notice you
because he's a junior in college and you're a junior in high school. Or
*maybe* because the last time he saw you, hadn't even started wearing a
training bra." She flushed at the mention of her boobs, which, in her
mind at least, hadn't grown significantly since her training bra days.
"Or *maybe* because he's going out with Laurie, who's second
only to Madonna in the number of guys she's screwed, and you've never
been kissed." She reddened deeply. I continued, "Or *maybe* because..."
"OK OK OK OK," she yelled. Then imitating me, "Or *maybe* because
I've got the bitchiest friend in the world!"
We both laughed and continued toward my house.
"And I *have too* been kissed," she went on haughtily after a
moment, "and in more places than you!"
We squealed as I remembered the story of her beach romance that
ended with her being eaten out on a sand dune at Sea Island. I also
remembered how incredibly horny her story had made me. I closed my eyes
and could see before me the image she had so vividly painted: the moon
was out, the stars were beautiful, and the surf was pounding as she
ventured up into the dunes with "the guy." That's all we ever called him
now; "the guy." She had only intended, she swore to me later, to mug with
him and maybe let him feel her up over her bikini top, but, the next
thing she knew, she was looking down over her own sweaty chest, bare
nipples straining for the sky, as the guy tentatively licked his way down
her stomach. Her bikini top was pushed up under her arm pits and she
suddenly realized her bikini bottoms were dangling around one ankle. The
guy kissed lower until only his eyes and unruly hair were visible between
her spread legs. Although he had no clue what he was doing, or even where
exactly to lick, she said it was the most amazing feeling. I
unconsciously squeezed my thighs together I as remembered it.
"Hello? Earth to Karen?" Jennifer looked at me, apparently
expecting some answer.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm just tired, practice really wore me out," I lied.
"Well? What should I do about Andy?!" she asked again.
"I think you should strip naked, run to his house, throw Laurie
out of his bed, and give him an experience he'll never forget," I giggled
hysterically.
"Fine, get out of the car and I will," she said, sticking her
tongue out at me.
As we pulled in my driveway, I said again, "God, I really can't
wait to try out this hot tub. This is just what I need right now." I was
massaging my calves, trying to get the burn out of them. "Hey, why don't
you come in and help me inaugurate it?" I added with a grin, "It'll help
get your mind off of Andy for a while."
She thought about it for a second and replied, "Nah, I don't have
a bathing suit... and, besides, I kinda need to get home to do some
homework."
I pulled my sunglasses down and deadpanned, "You're gonna pass up
a whirlpool to go do homework on a Friday night!?!? And you wonder why
Andy doesn't notice you, sheesh. Come on, I'll give you a suit. You know
my parents are gone for the weekend, you can stay over tonight if your
mom'll let you."
She mulled this over for a minute and relented, "Well, I'll stay
for a little while, but I don't think I can spend the night."
We went up to my room and I picked out two one-piece suits for
us. Fortunately, despite the few inches between us we were roughly the
same size. I took my suit into the bathroom, quickly shucked my clothes,
and put on the bathing suit. As I came back into my room, I saw that
Jennifer was having a little more trouble with her suit.
"Either I've grown or you've shrunk," she laughed as she
struggled to tug the straps of the suit over her shoulders. When she
finally got the suit in place, it pulled rather snugly and obviously into
her shoulders and her crotch. "And this is supposed to make me forget
about Andy?" she asked wryly as she ran her thumbs into the crotch of her
suit, trying to stretch the material down.
I blushed slightly and glanced away, not accustomed at that age
to making remarks about the physical aspect of arousal. I mean, sure, we
would talk about how "hot" some guy made us or even the details of our
make-out sessions, but subjects like actually getting wet, or of
masturbating, or of even acknowledging that material rubbing between your
legs was likely to excite you was way beyond what Jennifer and my other
friends and I were willing to discuss. There was a huge difference
between talking about what a guy did to you (or you did to a guy) and
what you did to yourself. The latter seemed so desperate and unladylike,
I suppose.
I guess the taboo started with a letter that was "intercepted"
between one of the more unpopular girls in my class and her boyfriend.
Although I strongly suspected the letter to be a fake, it was supposedly
written by a girl named Cari and described in very graphic detail how
horny she got when thinking of her boyfriend, and how she masturbated,
and with what. This, for me, was the giveaway as a fake, as I couldn't
possibly imagine that an 8th grader (our grade at the time) would
conceivably write her boyfriend and describe how she used a banana
wrapped in cellophane (ouch!) to masturbate. True or not, however, a
legend was born and "Chiquita," as she became known, left school shortly
thereafter. Everyone, of course, wanted to distance themselves from
someone so uncool, and, therefore, everyone quietly but vehemently denied
ever masturbating. Naturally, I was lying through my teeth when I said
it, and I suspect most of my friends were as well.
Although I didn't masturbate every day or anything, it was not
too uncommon to find me late at night lying on my stomach in bed with a
pillow clenched between my thighs, thinking delicious thoughts as I
ground my clitoris (or, my "button" as I thought of it back then) against
my clenched fist. Even better was if I knew I was going to be alone for a
few hours (thank God for no siblings!). I would simply strip and walk
around the house naked. Part of the thrill was knowing that my neighbors,
if they happened to look at the right time and in the right place, would
see my naked young body. But even more exciting was looking at myself in
every mirror I could find in the house, and from every angle. I would
imagine myself being watched in the mirrors (sort of taking on both the
role of the watcher and the watchee) as I pranced about.
My favorite place to "spy on myself" was in my parent's bathroom.
It was a large bathroom with many mirrors and I could, by standing in the
right place, look in one direction and see my reflection from all four
sides. This view really heightened the illusion of watching someone else.
As I watched myself from behind I would slowly bend forward and,
as seductively as I knew how, wiggle my ass at the mirror behind me. My
hips at that age had not completely filled out and I would run my hands
down my skinny hips and over my firm butt. I would watch from the sides
as I arched my back and moved my hands lightly over my boobs, alternately
cupping them and stroking my nipples with my fingers and the balls of my
hands. As I caressed myself, I would imagine watching someone (generally
some guy in my class) doing this either to me or to one of my friends.
After arousing myself in this way for some time, I would usually start to
rub directly om my clitoris as I watched from all directions, although I
think my favorite angle was the one where I was bent forward at the waist
and could watch my hand work between my legs from the rear. I couldn't
see much of my hand this way, but the view between my legs of my puffy
lips and spread bottom usually brought me off pretty quickly.
But I digress. Jennifer and I grabbed some towels and made our
way down to the hot tub. As I walked behind her, I watched as the
too-tight bathing suit pinched into Jennifer's ass.
"God, that suit really is too tight for you. You want me to get
you another?" I asked.
Jennifer just laughed as she continued to walk in front of me.
"Nah, it's not too bad," she said, even as she reached behind her and
tried to stretch the suit backwards where it bit across her cheeks. The
suit covered her tan lines so that when she pulled the constricting suit
out of her flesh, I caught a glimpse of the indentation the suit's edge
had already made and the pale white skin hidden beneath.
Seeing that secret expanse of white flesh struck a chord deep
within me. I felt a sudden alien desire to reach forward and smooth out
the crease the suit had etched into her skin. Although Jennifer was in
front of me and couldn't see my face, I felt myself blushing deeply. I
couldn't take my eyes from her hands as they massaged the skin under the
bathing suit's edge. I felt oddly uncomfortable. I felt the same
uneasiness in the pit of my stomach that I had felt the first time I had
let a boy touch me below the waist.
I had been in love. Well, ok, puppy love at least. His name was
Jeff and he was the lifeguard at my neighborhood pool. I had lusted after
him for the whole summer before my sophomore year. Each time I went to
the pool, I would make sure to lie somewhere close to the lifeguard
stand. I tried to time when I would put suntan oil on to when he was
looking in my direction. There were days that I probably put 2 bottles of
oil on, in an adolescent attempt to look sexy. As silly as I probably
looked, I managed to get his attention. I know I should've been
suspicious when he didn't ask me on a real date, but instead, told me to
meet him there at the pool after he got off work that evening. Of course
I met him. He told me how pretty I was and how long he'd wanted to meet
me. He could've told me I had three arms and I would've probably thought,
"Oh, how sweet, I think he really likes me."
We went for a short walk that ended behind the snack bar. Without
prelude, he began kissing me and rubbing my boobs over my t-shirt. I felt
a curious mixture of surprise, love, and horniness. I was thinking of
what it would be like to date Jeff. He was really cute, and, aside from
the mauling he was giving me, seemed to be really nice. Wasting no time,
Jeff slid his hand under my t-shirt and bikini top. "This is heaven," I
thought as he roughly kneaded my nipples, "I can't wait for him to meet
my parents." I started pay more attention to what he was doing when he
untied the drawstring holding my shorts. His hand caressing my lower
abdomen beneath my shorts caused me to sharply draw in my breath. Not
only is that a very sensitive area for me, even to this day, but, more
importantly, I had never been touched there by anyone, much less being
touched any lower. My stomach started to ache in a way that was the
oddest combination of unpleasantness and arousal. You probably know the
feeling I'm talking about. I knew something great was about to happen. I
looked deeply into Jeff's eyes, trying to will him to say those three
words that would make me his forever. I was hot and ready. The moon shone
brightly above as Jeff looked at me and with all candor said, "Will you
blow me?"
Oh God.
Sorry for the digression again, but I was feeling once again that
strange mix of tension in my stomach and arousal as I walked behind
Jennifer, watching her butt. She was still trying to pull the suit from
her flesh and it was beginning to look painful.
"I'm gonna get you another suit," I said, "I can't have you
getting gangrene and dying with my parents out of town. It'd ruin my
weekend."
"Really, it's fine," she answered, but I was already going back
to my room. I didn't want her to be uncomfortable while we tubbed, but,
more importantly, I needed a chance to compose myself. I really had no
idea what was wrong with me. I had never been attracted to girls. I
hadn't even ever thought of it. Well, I had had one dream that really
confused me but it *was* just a dream. I don't remember it really well,
but it was basically just a replay of the fiasco with Jeff.
Everything happened like in real life until we got to the part
where he spoke those immortal words. In the dream, I remember looking up
into his cold, dark eyes as his hands trailed down my stomach. They
didn't stop at the border of my bikini bottoms, however, instead they
deftly slid beneath the fabric and into my pubic hair. I continued gazing
into his eyes, awaiting his declaration of undying love. They weren't his
eyes, though. A finger slid past my clitoris, eliciting a grunt of
surprise and arousal. The eyes were softer, bluer, more compassionate. I
heard a female voice say, "I love you, you know. I'll always be here for
you the way Jeff or anyone else never will." As a her finger slid into
me, I woke up with a start, my middle finger deeply buried inside myself.
I was too scared to even continue masturbating, as horny as I was. I
closed my eyes and racked my brain trying to visualize who the girl in
the dream was. I, of course, immediately thought of Jennifer and her
brilliant blue eyes, but it somehow wasn't her. Or maybe it was but I was
disguising the fact from myself. I couldn't figure it out and cried
myself back to sleep with the 'unbearable' thought that I was a lesbian.
I mean, I'd have to get my hair cut short and put on thirty pounds,
wouldn't I? I know I acted kind of weird around Jennifer for a day or two
after that, but, since the dream never repeated itself, it faded from my
conscious memory within a short while.
I went back to my room and looked at myself in the mirror. My
face was still flushed and I recognized the look of excitement I had so
often seen from my previous adventures with mirrors. I was somewhat
embarrassed to see that my nipples were prominently visible through the
top of my suit. I don't know if the same thing happens to other girls,
but once my nipples get hard, and I'm *aware* of the fact that they're
hard, there's nothing I can do to make them go down. The more I try not
to think about them, the more obstinately they stay hard. Although
they're not terribly large nipples, they're about the same size and
consistency of pencil erasers. And the fact that they were rubbing
against the Lycra material of my suit did nothing to help their
condition. I almost put on a t-shirt but I decided that I would only be
drawing attention to my condition, and, besides, once it got wet I didn't
think that it would've really hid anything.
I quickly rummaged through my drawers, looking for the largest
swimsuit I owned. I clutched the suit to my chest in an unconscious
attempt to hide my arousal as I walked back downstairs to the hot tub.
When I got out to the enclosed porch where the tub was, I found
Jennifer trying to figure out the controls for the tub. She had slid the
straps of the suit off of her shoulders to relieve the tightness that was
pinching into her. I was painfully aware, once again, of the suit's
feeble attempt to encase her butt. In some sort of private dance,
Jennifer was swaying and alternately shifting her weight from foot to
foot, which had the effect of rhythmically raising and lowering each
cheek as it strained against the material of the suit. I felt like I
could've watched her for hours.
"God, how do you turn this thing on?" she asked, turning to me.
"You're already turning *this* thing on," I thought, then quickly
dismissed, embarrassed.
"Here, try this suit on," I said, handing her the suit, "and I'll
get the tub going, if I can remember how." I added with a grin.
I handed her the suit and went to the control panel. I looked at
the buttons and tried to remember the directions my dad had given me for
turning the machine on. Glancing over my shoulder, I was momentarily
struck speechless. Jennifer had walked to other side of the hot tub and
turned her back to me to change suits. I watched, fascinated, as she
pulled the straps the rest of the way off her arms. I couldn't see much
of her boobs but what I did see was gorgeous. They were like twin scoops
of vanilla yogurt; their paleness contrasted richly with the deep tan of
her back and arms. There was not a hint of sag, not even when she bent
over to peel the suit the rest of the way off. Unlike most women, there
was not even a crease under her boob where it met her chest; the angle
being formed was oblique, for you mathematicians out there.
It may seem odd, but I had seen very few naked women in my life.
My school's gym had individual shower stalls. Most girls (well, in my
grade, at least) were modest enough that they would put on their panties
while still wearing their towels. Most would try to turn away from others
when putting on bras, as well. And, needless to say, even the curiosity
of a developing teen anxious to know how her body compared to that of her
classmates was not enough to make her look at the others dressing for
fear of being caught and labeled a dyke or something. Further, despite
the common portrayal in teen movies, slumber parties, while certainly
filled with plenty of dirty talk and "truth or dare", didn't generally
end up in a naked pillow fight or wrestling match. So, other than the
occasional late-night movie on Cinemax and a few extremely furtive peeks
in the locker room, I hadn't really ever seen a naked female body other
than my own.
Jennifer held the suit on both sides just above the hip and
quickly shucked it down, bending further at the waist as she did so. This
was the view that took my breath away. The tan lines on her butt and hips
formed a wide, perfectly symmetrical "v" leading across her cheeks and
down the crack of her ass. For just a moment, as she stepped out of the
suit, I saw a flash of hair and the dark crease within. The sight
reminded me of the view I had of myself in the mirror when I masturbated.
For a second, I almost expected to see my (her?) fingers reach between my
(her) legs and begin stroking the wetness within. I snapped out of my
reverie and, turning back to the controls, closed my eyes and took a deep
breath.
"Get a grip!" I commanded myself. I actually felt myself getting
mad. It was as if there was some force controlling my body against my
will. "Quit it! Quit it! QUIT IT!" I was really confused by the tidal
wave of emotions I was feeling. Maybe it was menstrual. Just another
surge in a relentless sea of hormonal tides.
"Come on, let's get some bubbles going here!" Jennifer teased.
Her voice brought me back to reality.
"Uh.... ok, I think this'll do it," I said, flipping a switch.
The room was suddenly filled with hum of the machinery and the
epervescence of the bubbles reaching the surface. The new suit fit
Jennifer much better; it fact it looked much better on her more developed
hips than on mine.
"Wow," I commented, "that suit really makes you look good."
"You think so?" she asked, looking into my eyes, searching for
the truth.
"Definitely! God, you look really ...sexy!" I insisted, locking
eyes with her.
"Damn it!" I thought to myself self-consciously, "why can't you
just say it looks 'good'?"
Jennifer looked at me oddly for the briefest instant, then smiled
and struck a fashion model pose. "Andy just doesn't know what he's
missing." she pouted.
We both laughed and started to get in the tub. I sat on the edge
for a moment to get accustomed to the heat of the water, then closed my
eyes and sighed, "Oh, I've been needing this for a long time," as I
slowly slid my body forward and down into the tub. As I lowered myself
into the hot water, I briefly opened my eyes and was shocked to see
Jennifer seemingly staring at my boobs. My nipples were still rock hard,
but I couldn't believe she would find them worth staring at. My surprise
must've registered on my face as she quickly looked away and a slight
rosy color filled her cheeks.
Nothing was said for several minutes as we both let the heat of
the water soothe our tired muscles. Despite my outward calm, my mind was
racing. Did Jennifer know that I had gotten aroused looking at her. That
that's why my nipples were hard. Oh god, what if she thinks I'm gay?
Would she tell everyone? Would we still be friends? Or, would she be
merciful and just let the friendship fade away, so as not to have to face
my perverted desires?
What the hell was I thinking? I had probably just misinterpreted
the whole thing. She probably didn't even notice anything and I was
getting all worked up over something that only had happened in my deviant
mind.
Jennifer started talking about Andy again and I was able to relax
and help her plot a strategy (that we both knew she would never follow up
on) to ensnare his attentions. We were in the middle of the plan when
Jennifer, with her eyes still closed, shifted a few feet to her left in
the tub and gasped.
I watched without understanding and continued, "...so then, when
he sees you in the mall, you ask him if he could help you pick out a
miniskirt..."
"Are you sitting near a jet?" Jennifer interrupted.
"Huh?" I looked at her, startled out my story.
"A jet..." she looked mischievous, "you know, where the water
comes out."
"Uh.. why?" I asked, as I felt around in the water with my hands.
"Um... just wondering." she grinned brightly.
She didn't continue although I tried to prompt her with a look.
She still didn't respond, so I tried another tact.
"Ok, yeah, there's one right here." I said, gesturing with my head.
With her eyes closed, she suggested, "Hmmm, maybe you should...
well, sort of move until you're on top of it." She couldn't help laughing
self-consciously even as she said it.
I didn't immediately register what she was suggesting but did as
she said. I scooted a foot or two to my right until I suddenly felt the
powerful rush of hot water insistently pulsing at my crotch.
"WHOA!" I shrieked, my eyes popping wide.
Jennifer almost choked she began laughing so hard.
"I think you should scoot back a little!" she managed to gasp
between howls of laughter.
I was shocked, to say the least, but, having had the subject
already broached, I did as she said without comment. I found that by
altering the angle and position of my waist relative to the water jet I
could very accurately control the stimulation I was receiving.
I gasped aloud as I managed to find the perfect position; the
water pounding just right on my clitoris. I looked, embarrassed, at
Jennifer to see if she would react to my sounds of pleasure, but she too
had her eyes closed and seemed to be simply enjoying the moment. I
concentrated on nothing other than the feeling of heat radiating out from
my crotch.
After a few minutes, the silence was broken by Jennifer. "Not
bad, huh?" she giggled conspiratorially.
Although I was totally absorbed in my newfound masturbatory
experience, I wasn't sure I would be able to talk about it with Jennifer.
Especially considering the feelings that had welled up inside me just ten
minutes earlier. The shame of those thoughts kept me quiet.
"Well..?" she asked, insistently.
I finally let my poker face slip a little and allowed, "Well,
this doesn't feel *awful*." I couldn't keep a grin from spreading ear to
ear.
We both became giddy with excitement and self-consciousness,
laughing spontaneously as we alternately watched each other's reactions
and closed our eyes to simply enjoy the sensations. An hour before,
there's nothing in the world that would've convinced me that I was
going to end up, one hour later, masturbating in my brand new hot in
front of my best friend. And yet, as we continued, I become more and more
comfortable with the situation. I mean, you couldn't see anything through
all the bubbles and we were both doing it and we weren't touching each
other or anything. I knew I would never, ever have told on her and,
since she was in the same position as me (not to mention my best friend),
I felt sure that she wouldn't either.
As I watched Jennifer, she suddenly arched her back as if she
had been shocked and stifled a small shriek in the back of her throat. As
her back arched, she pushed her boobs slightly out of the water so that
her hardened nipples were prominently displayed. The sight, combined with
the pulsating hot water, was almost enough to make me cum.
Jennifer slowly opened her eyes, and between slightly ragged
breaths said, "What to try something even better?"
I guess I was pretty much beyond shame at that point. I simply
grinned and said, "What?" I really couldn't think of anything that she
could've suggested that I would've refused at that moment.
"Try, um... well, try pulling your bathing suit out of the way."
Looking directly at her, I reached into the water with my hand
and tried to tug the crotch of the suit to the side. Unfortunately, the
suit was a racing suit and, consequently, a little too snug to
comfortably pull out of the way.
"I don't think I can," I said, distressed, "It's a little too tight."
Jennifer shrugged lightly and simply said, "Well then, just take
it off."
I know I made such a big deal about nudity and masturbation
before, but there was something so matter-of-fact, so sensible, in what
she said that I felt compelled to agree. I would've felt stupid not
complying at this point.
I started to slid the straps off of my shoulders. I pulled my
arms through the straps and realized I was going to have to stand to get
the suit off without dunking myself. Despite my braveness of a few short
minutes before, I desperately wished I was wearing a bikini and could
just take the bottoms off. I started to stand and turn around when I saw
that Jennifer was staring intently at me. I half-smiled,
self-consciously, not understanding what she was thinking. She gazed
expectantly.
"Oh," I thought to myself. I then took the biggest risk of my
life. I was half-turned away from Jennifer. I slowly turned back to face
her. A slight smile formed on her face. I very slowly pulled the sides of
the suit down until my boobs came free. I glanced down and watched my
nipples heave with my shallow breathing. The smile on Jennifer's face
widened. I continued pulling the suit off until it was just above water
level, and, as it happened, right at the level where my pubic hair began.
Jennifer, her face registering pure contentment and her eyes looking
slightly glassed over, nodded almost imperceptibly. I lowered the suit
down onto my thighs, immediately feeling the cool air as it tickled the
wet hair of my pussy. I wasn't sure what to do next. I tentatively ran my
hand over my boob, cupping it, but I suddenly felt a flood of
embarrassment. I rather quickly leaned over to step out of the suit and
sat back down. Jennifer gave a slight sympathetic chuckle.
I felt like my whole body was on fire. I had never felt so horny
in all my life. I closed my eyes and readjusted my seat so that the water
jet was angling directly onto my bare pussy. It only took a few seconds
for me to feel the beginnings of a huge orgasm. I moaned involuntarily
but loudly.
"Wait!" Jennifer cried. "I want to do it too!"
I tried to delay the muscle spasms I felt building in my pussy,
but I was beyond the point of stopping.
My eyes shot open as I felt the world suddenly stop. Jennifer was
standing in front of me, scrambling to pull her suit off. The sight of
her beautiful boobs with their large pointy nipples bobbing in front of
me and her golden pubic hair plastered against her engorged labia was
permanently etched in my mind as I came like never before, alternately
sobbing Jennifer's name and that of a deity. Somewhere, in the back of my
consciousness, I heard Jennifer crying out my name as the last of the
shudders ran through my body.
*************************************************************
If a few people like this, I'll try to continue it. *Please* only e-mail
me or post in a.s.s.d. There's too much noise in a.s.s already.
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