A Slow Unwinding Ch. 02

Contrary to their expectations, Marc and Theresa managed to beat them to the cottage by a good half hour, and had already unpacked and gotten in beach mode by the time John and Sara arrived. As he walked in the door overburdened by bags, he was greeted by the sight of Theresa standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips, in a black bikini and sheer white sarong around her waist.

Although she did not have the kind of classically beautiful face that Sara possessed, she was nonetheless a beauty—tall, thin, and blessed with the kind of rack that people have historically fought wars over. They were, indeed, sensational, large without being sloppy and despite the flimsy structure of the bikini top heaving straight out and perpendicular to her body. John felt that tightness again for a moment until Marc appeared out of the dining room and shouted "What's shakin', guys?"

Marc was a classic good time guy, the type who never seemed to have a care in the world and was always on the prowl for fun. He clapped his hands together, standing shirtless in his bathing suit. Marc was a big guy—broad-chested, muscular, tall—and as Sara walked in behind him John could have sworn that she was gawking at him for a moment until she snapped out of it and greeted them. "Hey guys, I can't believe that you beat us here?"

"I know, right?" said Marc. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

"We were just going to walk down to the beach—you've got to check it out," said Theresa. "Did you know this place has its own private beach area?"

"Well," John said, "it's not technically private, but the owner said that the only people have real access to it are the couple of houses on this street."

"Whatever it is, it's empty, man. Unpack and meet us down there in ten?" Marc asked. "We only have a couple good hours of sun left."

"Sounds like a plan," said Sara, smiling. For the first time in a while, it struck John as a real, genuine smile.

***** They unpacked quickly and rushed down to beach. Sara wore a one-piece, red swinsuit, which John thought a shame, but he knew had also brought a bikini because he had seen once poking out of her bag as she unpacked.

Need to work on that one, he thought.

The four of them quickly settled into the familiar rhythm they had when hanging out together, spending a few hours on the beach, grilling some fish for dinner, and plowing through three bottles of rosé by the time they were relaxing under the stars on the patio, drifting casually and effortlessly through the conversation. Everyone had a good buzz, and Sara struck John as particularly giggly.

As the conversation begun to wind down Marc, in a classic Marc moment, stood up out of his chair, clapped his hands loudly and yelled "You know what? It can't be vacation unless there's Tequila. Prepare yourselves." He turned and disappeared back in the cottage, heading for the kitchen.

"I don't know," Sara said, "I'm really tired. I think I might head to bed."

"You can't!" said Theresa. "There's no better way to kick off vacation that a couple shots... . Besides, it's not even 10:00 pm. It's not like you've got school tomorrow." Theresa shot what might have been mistaken for a friendly, encouraging look to Sara, but John knew it for what it was. For as long as he had known Sara and Theresa, despite their deep and serious friendship there had always been a fierce competitiveness on the surface.

Theresa's gambit worked. "Alright," said Sara with a hint of defiance, "but if we're gonna party, let's really party."

"Woo-hoo!" shouted Theresa. "Hey Marc," she shouted, "get your ass out here with some shot glasses!"

Marc reappeared with a bottle of Don Julio and four shot glasses.

John was amazed—Marc served up three rounds of shots over the course of the next half hour, and Sara knocked back every one. By now the whole group, and especially the ladies, had gone from buzzed to truly drunk. The conversation morphed into a walk down memory lane, and by the third shot had managed to land on Marc and Theresa's sexual exploits together in college.

"You do realize," said Sara laughing, "that the rest of us on the hall heard you two doing it every night for, like, all of sophomore year?" Theresa's eyes went wide. "No way!" she cried. John was surprised that Sara was being so frank; she was no prude, but he realized she must be drunker then he thought to push the conversation in this direction.

"Totally," said Sara. "And you were so LOUD! For the first few weeks we thought you were watching a porno movie it was so loud."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Theresa exclaimed. "I do not sound like one of those fake porn stars, do I, Marc?"

"Of course not, honey. You're very ladylike."

"Well, I wouldn't know," said Sara. "But it was loud."

"What do you mean?" asked Marc.

"I just meant I don't what a porn star sounds like."

Theresa's eyes went wide again. "You mean you've never seen a porno?"

"Never." It was true. John had raised the question several times and, while she had once expressed curiosity, he had never pushed it.

"No way. I don't think Marc let me go a month of dating before he forced me to watch one," said Theresa. "They're actually kind of neat, you know..."

Marc laughed and clapped his hands. "Did you just say that pornography is 'neat.'" That's fucking funny."

"Well, I just mean... it's interesting," said Theresa. "Even thought it's really cheesy most times it still gets you going."

I was laughing but trying to stay out of the conversation. Sara was beet red with a mixture of booze and embarrassment.

"Okay," said Marc, "I can't stand here and let another day pass with Miss Porter over there having such a gap in her life experience. This place has on-demand cable, I'm firing up a skin flick."

Sara's smile went a little sour.

"Think of it as educational," said Marc. There was a long and conspicuous pause.

"I'm game if you two are," said Theresa. The tone this time was one of blatant challenge. Again, a long a conspicuous pause.

"Let's do it," said Sara, smiling, shocking John. "But one more shot for courage."

Marc served four more shots up, they all knocked them down, and Marc led the four of them into the living room, where the couples sat on separate love seats.

It took Marc more no more than 60 seconds to have the screen lit up with naked bodies. "Somebody has a little practice at navigating Time Warner's porn universe" I joked.

"No comment," said Marc, laughing and flicking off the floor lamp. The scene moved quickly--it was two guys and two girls, not very well done, but the guys were hung and the girls had big tits and after a few minutes the 42 inch plasma screen featured a close-up of large cock pounding in and out of a bare pussy. Standard stuff.

The group did what one imagines all groups do while watching porn—they made fun of it, pointing out the women's razor burn, one guy's hairy back, and so on. But after about 5 minutes they group grew quiet. Sara seemed more or less mesmerized by the screen, and John had his arm around her and was gently stroking it. John noticed that all four of them very beginning to breath a little heavily. It was about to get awkward.

Marc must have noticed, too. "Well, Sara, is that enough education? Sleep time, Theresa?" Sara nodded her head and the group broke up, wobbly and drunk, back to their rooms.

Both Sara and John flopped into bed, and as John turned to her and cupped her ass, hopeful that Sara wasn't to drunk for sex, Sara pulled him into her and kissed him aggressively, jamming her tongue into his mouth. He slid his hand around her hip and into her panties and was, again, shocked. She was ridiculously wet, wetter than he could ever remember. He whispered into her ear, "Jesus, you must have liked that film. You're dripping wet."

"I know" she said, reaching her hand to her pussy to verify. "Oh wow," she said, realizing too that she was simply soaking.

She looked up into his eyes, real lust on her face. "Forget the preliminaries, just fuck me now."

John pulled down her pajama bottoms and panties in a single, long tug, and Sara reached into he boxers and pulled on his cock. I was a respectable seven inches, not a monster by any means but "above average," as he liked to think.

After a few moments they were both naked and he rolled on top of her, sliding his cock into her with ease in one long motion. The wetness felt amazing, and as he thrust in and out he started moving his hips from side to side, which he knew she loved.

"Oh yes, that, just like that." She had her eyes closed and was now clearly thousands of miles from her regular life. There was pure, wanton, drunken lust on her face.

John stopped his thrusts for a moment and pulled her ass to the edge of the bed, sliding his feet to the floor so that he we standing. He reached and grabbed a pillow to put under Sara's ass, giving him a grand view an effective angle to fuck her. He leaned forward grinding into her, not really thrusting, and slid his thumb onto her clit. Sara didn't say anything, but let out a low groan and nodded her head up and down.

John began rubbing her clit rapidly and again started fucking her, moving his hips far to the left and then to the right with each stroke, clearly hitting some perfect spot for Sara, who was now moaning "oh yes" softly with each thrust. John began to get lost in the fucking. He removed his thumb and replaced it with two fingers that he flicked forcefully over her clit as fast as he could.

Sara was moaning loudly now. She came, hard, crunching her torso forward and balling the sheets up in her fists. She vocalized each spasm of her orgasm, beginning with hard, sharp cries, then making lower and longer moans, until after a good thirty seconds she again relaxed back against the bed.

"Don't stop yet. Don't come yet."

John was happy to oblige, but was himself on the verge of coming, so he stop thrusting and instead began grinding against her pussy, pushing his cock into her as far as possible. He reached and began massaging her breasts forcefully, using them as an anchor to grind harder and upwards into her clit.

Sara began low groan again, which escalated into a soft, rhythmic "yes" once again. John couldn't believe his luck—she was gearing to come again. He had to think back to their first year dating to remember the last time that had happened. John kept grinding, he now reached down and grabbed an ass cheek with each hand, using them as leverage as he began to thrust slowly again.

Now, perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps the thrill of the moment, but as he grabbed her ass John took a chance and dropped his thumb to her rectum, gently grazing it as he thrust. He could have sworn that Sara was now wiggling her ass so as to enhance the effect, and so he got more brazen and placed the tip of his thumb firmly at the entrance of her asshole.

She drew her breath sharply and started rocking her hips side to side on his thumb. She was clearly liking this. He started fucking her harder and gently moving his thumb. Yes, she was definitely liking this.

She looked up at him, licking her lips, and asked coyly: "Can you get it wetter and stick it all the way in?"

John's heart leaped. He nodded and pulled his thumb to his mouth, covering it in saliva, and then placed it back on her asshole, pushing gently. Sara began a long, constant groan and pushed her ass back on his thumb, not being gentle at all. John decided to go for broke and started fucking her hard, and pushed his thumb in to the hilt. Sara's eyes blew wide open, and she communicated her pleasure with the sexiest, sluttiest nod and look that John had ever seen.

"Fuck me hard, make me come again."

John was now slamming into her, pushing his thumb as far as it would go. Seeing her clit unattended, he ordered Sara to fix this problem: "Rub your clit. Hard."

Sara did as she was asked and now was simply a fiery ball of sex and fuck, and as the wave hit her she frigged her clit harder and arched her back, convulsing her hips up and down and yelling—actually yelling—"Oh. Yes. Oh. Yes. Oh. Yes."

John's balls exploded and he now fucked her brutally with each spasm of his orgasm, his hands now on her hips jamming her body towards him to meet each thrust of his cock. As their orgasms subsided, he collapsed on top of her, and after a few minutes of catching their breath, they rolled over on the bed, their heads back on their pillows, falling asleep in silence in a matter of moments.

They slept still and deeply, not even noticing the loud cries from the next room, nor the continuing thud of the headboard on the other side of their wall.