Friends, Plus One

Zara gazes around at the nearby aisles. "What you came in for - it's not in this section, is it?" she asks cattily. I wonder how long she was watching me. "I can help you pick something out," she offers. "I've even personally tried a few. And then we can go in the back, if you need a demonstration." Her eyebrows waggle suggestively.

I stare at her, shocked by her brazen demeanor. I mean, why else would my stomach be tied up in knots?

For a moment we face each other. She is drinking me in again, and seems happy just doing that. The knots in my stomach tighten. Although they're not exactly in my stomach anymore.

I finally crack. "I want something . . . exotic. Different. It's an anniversary present."

"Anniversary?" she repeats, as we walk over to the sex toy aisle. She's walking close to me, her hips jostling mine. The aisles aren't 'that' narrow.

"Mmm-hmm. One month."

Zara stops, then looks curiously at me. "Not MacKay."

"No." I try my best to look coquettish, looking at Zara from under my lashes. "Jack wasn't the only one there that night."

"Oh?" A pause. "Oh! No. Not my Becks." She raises her eyebrows when I nod.

"But she's my Becks now."

Zara lets out a whoop, and suddenly grabs me in a hug. "That's what I'm talking about!" she yells. "Crossing the fence, bitches!"

I'm blushing again, but I'm also smiling, and laughing. And strangely attracted to this weird, sultry, cocksure girl.

Zara releases me, but then holds me out at arm's length. Her face is suddenly intently serious.

"You want to give your girl a real anniversary present? I've got a wild idea."

ooOoo

After leaving Dick's Tricks, I walk the few blocks back to campus in a kind of daze. I cross one street without looking, and am surprised by the sudden blaring a horn. "Stupid cunt!" a guy yells out of his window at me, as he drives around my startled form.

I can't concentrate in Developmental Psych, either. I have my notebook open and it would appear that I am taking notes. But I am doodling, drawing Beck's naked body from memory. The slim, boyish hips. The flat tummy, with a small dot for her navel. The full breasts, definitely more than a mouthful. The thin, elegant neck, newly exposed by a recent short haircut. She had said she was tired of her hair getting in the way when she gave me head.

Zara's cell phone number is written at the top of the page. I'm still unsure if I should add it to my phone's contacts.

I don't exactly think Becks would balk at the idea of a threesome. Technically it had been a threesome the night I had lost my virginity, and it had almost been a threesome of a different color (literally!). After the fact, Becks had told me that the original plan was to have Jack and his roommate take turns screwing me. I think if that had happened I would have been okay with it. I'd met Darius the next morning, when I'd still been in Jack's bed. I'd been sleeping off the combination of alcohol, Ambien, and some heavy-duty Ibuprofen (from Jack's medicine cabinet). Darius was the one who'd taken one look at my arm and then declared I had to have it looked at by a doctor. He'd also provided the wide leather bracelet for my wrist, so the doctor at the campus medical center wouldn't see the abrasion from the scarf. When I'd nearly torn my arm free I'd bloodied my wrist as well as injured my shoulder.

Darius had been kind and attentive, almost the exact opposite of Jack. I got the idea that the two of them fucking me together would have been like the difference between tennis and badminton. Jack's grunts during his hard, driving serves, and his rush up to the net to slam the tennis ball down at his opponent. Darius' light touch on the badminton racket, lofting the shuttlecock high into the air before it floated down for another bounce.

But I hadn't had Darius, I'd had Rebecca. And I was eminently grateful to her for replacing Darius. I loved her. I wanted to give her something special. Zara thought a threesome with her would fit that bill. And I had to admit I was not adverse to the idea.

In fact, I find that I can't stop thinking about it. I have to adjust my position more than once during my Psych lecture, as I keep getting a warm throb in my pussy. I tug at my crotch, and rub it against the edge of my seat. Eventually a nearby student leans over toward me. "God - go to the bathroom and finish yourself, already!" she hisses.

So I do. I find a relatively empty ladies' room, lower my jeans, and finish. Since the night I had lost my virginity, when I had orgasmed twice, I am now able to masturbate myself into an orgasm. All I have to do is think about Rebecca's naked body, sitting atop me. But this time as I satisfy myself, it is Zara I picture. I muffle my gasps of pleasure by turning my head into my shoulder.

When I leave the stall to wash my hands, I look at myself in the mirror. My face is flushed, my eyes bright, and my hair disheveled. I smile at my reflection, then nod decisively.

I don't go back to class. I go back to Dick's Tricks, find Zara, and ask her if she can show me something in the back.

ooOoo

At the dinner table that night, sitting across from Becks while we eat supper, I propose Zara's - and now my - anniversary gift idea. I am nervous, scared, worried, and a little giggly. I can still taste the marijuana that that been on Zara's breath, can still feel the exciting sensation of her hand rubbing circular patterns against my crotch. I'd had to change my underwear and jeans when I got home, as Zara's exquisite touch had gotten me more than a little wet.

Rebecca studies me silently for a few moments. She takes a long drink of her water, sets the glass down, and then looks into my eyes.

"Okay."

BECKS

Once I agree to Ginger's proposal (and God, was she adorable as she asked my permission for a threesome!), our next step is to pick a location. Our dorm room is too small - sometimes Ginger and I feel a little squished when we get it on. Zara, we discover, lives in a room in a house that holds a total of ten students. That's not exactly a good choice, either. Not only is Zara's room as small as our dorm - smaller, even - the proximity of all of the other residents would definitely put a damper on our triple scoop.

Zara is the one who comes up with a solution. Her friends Brian and Marsh have their own apartment.

Zara calls us on Thursday with the good news. "OMG, Brian just practically screamed at me to use their place. He's been trying to get Marsh to take him to this gay bed-and-breakfast, some place called The Happy Homo or The Grateful Gay or something like that - "

"The Contented Queer?" Ginger suggests. We are cuddled in my bed, with my cell phone in between us. I have Zara on speaker.

"Hey, good one! Yeah, anyway, they're packing already, and will be leaving tomorrow. So we have the place from tomorrow evening until Sunday afternoon if we want it."

I look at Ginger. Her face is positively glowing with excitement and anticipation. I'd thought I had known my best friend. Apparently she has layers.

As I am thinking this, another layer appears. "Who lives under them? Will they hear us if we get loud?"

Then again, maybe this question isn't such a surprise. Ginger is unabashedly vocal when we make love, and had actually screamed during her orgasm when Jack had fucked her.

"They're on the first floor - only the laundry room and storage under them. If anyone's doing laundry, the machines will probably drown us out. And if they don't - who gives a fuck? So they'll get some excitement." Zara laughs, and it is a musical sound. "It'll probably be the talk of the apartment building, how they heard a girl - or two, or three - having sex in the gay guys' apartment."

So we have a place. A date. A plan. Zara will be at the apartment first, after she gets off work, and Ginger and I will meet her there. Fun will commence.

After I disconnect the call with Zara, I toss my phone aside and snuggle closer to Ginger. She wraps her arms around me and places her lips on my neck. I know I told her I cut my hair so it didn't get in the way during cunnilingus, but I think I cut it so she could nuzzle my neck like this. And lick my neck like this. And kiss the little hollow of my throat, and suck at the skin right under my ear and . . .

ooOoo

Ginger and I take the bus to the apartment to meet Zara. Both of us have backpacks; another pair of clothes for each of us, toiletries, the new toy Ginger had brought home from Dick's Tricks. Neither of us have packed pajamas.

Zara greets us at the door in a short, sheer dress and stilleto heels. Her color is high and she seems as excited as Ginger was yesterday, when we had begun to make our plans.

It's the first time I've seen Zara since "the night" at the The Dry Dock, when I'd met her at the bar. I recall thinking how unusually attractive her little pouty face was, how sexy. But we'd been in a crazily-lit club, I'd been drinking, and Zara had been crying.

Seeing her now, in normal lighting, and me sober as a judge, I realize that I hadn't truly seen Zara that night. She is more gorgeous than I had remembered. Her creamy brown skin is as smooth as silk. There's not a flaw on her face, and her dark eyes stare into my soul. Her heels make her excellent legs look impossibly long.

Zara's spaghetti-strap dress is more like a piece of lingerie than an actual outfit. It reminds me of the episode of Friends, the one when . . . (ha!) Jennifer Aniston's character (Rachel) dressed in a negligee, trying to seduce her boyfriend. When the guy's parents walk in, Rachel tries to pass off her scanty clothing as a fancy new dress from Italy.

I don't know where Zara got her dress from, but it is tremendous. Form-fitting, obscenely short - it shows off her boobs and those long legs. It's obvious she's not wearing a bra, but her perky breasts barely need the support. And I have a feeling if she were to sit down at a certain angle, it would be apparent that she was again not wearing panties.

I'm standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, unable to move. Ginger is standing next to me, and I suddenly realize what it looks like, me ogling Zara in front of my friend. Girlfriend. I am just about to apologize when Zara takes my hand and pulls me across the threshold. "Becks, Becks. Now, I know I asked you to come back to finish, but you sure took your time."

Ginger throws her head back and laughs. When I don't say anything, a little irritated at being the butt of a joke, Ginger quiets and gives me a quick embrace. "Oh, we're just trying to ease the tension, babe."

I impulsively kiss Ginny on the cheek. The fact that she didn't mind my mental undressing of Zara, and had actually been amused. . . This is why I love this girl.

Zara has shut the door, and is resting against it. She abruptly claps her hands. "Okay, I don't know about you two, but I'm horny as fuck. Let's get this rodeo started."

Concise, and to the point. I drop my backpack in the entryway; Ginger does the same. Then I attempt to take charge.

"Zara, you're new to 'us.' You haven't entirely experienced what we are when we're together. I think Ginger and I should show you, and then we'll see where that leads us."

It comes out sounding businesslike, and I'm slightly embarrassed. Zara grins wickedly. "Well, I got a finger-lay from you at the Dry Hump," she answers me, "and a tiny taste of her the other day," she nods at Ginger. "So maybe we should reverse it - you up top, while Ginger tries her hand at below."

Apparently I'm not in charge. Before Ginger or I can agree, Zara pulls her arms out of her dress, wiggling her hips so it drops to the floor. She then steps out of her heels, and comes to stand directly before Ginger.

I'm suddenly sure I've been thrust into a lesbian porno: Ginger and I are featured as the unwitting delivery people/unexpected visitors/people answering a "room for rent" ad; Zara stars as the homeowner who just left the bathtub to answer the door, still soapy and clad in only a loose-fitting towel (that soon falls off her wet body). I grin at the hokey image.

Ginger is staring at Zara, mesmerized. Her eyes move from Zara's chest to her genitals, and then they stay transfixed on Zara's crotch. I look in the same direction, and see what has drawn Ginger's attention: in the spot where Zara's pubic hair would've been, it's clean shaven - and there is a tattoo, of a lime-green arrow, pointing downward. 'This way, ladies.'

Zara reaches out a hand to caress Ginger's face, drawing her gaze upward. While Ginger is looking at Zara's face, the naked girl smiles. She darts her tongue out to lick her lips, the stud in her tongue flashing.

"Do you like what you see?"

Zara's hand is still on Ginger's face. Ginger turns her head, and licks Zara's palm. Zara smiles softly, then moves her hand around to the back of Ginger's head, and slowly pulls her face forward. Zara initiates the kiss, soft and tender. There's an air of familiarity about it. Ginger attempts to lengthen the kiss, and tries to pull Zara closer. Zara gently pushes Ginger away, but it is not without misgivings.

Zara looks between me and Ginger. "I'm feeling a little underdressed here, ladies. Why don't you shuck your duds and follow me." She moves to me, reaching out to brush her thumb along my lips. Then, with a "come hither" nod, she heads for what I assume is a bedroom.

As Zara is sauntering away, I see a small tattoo on her back, right above her waistline. I am just able to make it out: it is an imitation of a postage stamp, with the word "tramp" centered inside it.

The girl is cleverly funny, as well as gorgeous.

I look at Ginny, and see she has her hand up near her mouth, as if she is still caught in Zara's kiss. She feels me watching her, and lowers her hand, blushing furiously. God, she's cute.

Coming to Ginger, I reach out to take her shirt in my hands. I raise it over her head, and drop it to the floor near Zara's dress. Ginger's hands move for my shirt, but I push them away firmly. "No, you first."

Ginger still wears a bra, even after my coaxing to do away with the restrictive, and unnecessary, piece of clothing. I haven't regularly worn a bra since high school, when it was frowned upon to go without the upper undergarment. It was thought that jiggling boobs and visible nipples distracted the boys. Not to mention the male teachers. I think maybe the only time I've worn a bra in college was when I was interviewing for a part-time job at the book store. I didn't get it. When I later interviewed for a part-time job at the registrar's office, I went braless. I was offered that job on the spot.

I unhook Ginger's bra now, and let her breasts breathe freely. As always, I am drawn to the perfect mounds, first caressing them with my hands, and then lowering my head, to suckle. Ginger runs her fingers through my short hair, sighing in satisfaction. Then she takes my face in her hands, and draws my head up gently.

"Zara's waiting."

I nod mutely. I undo the zipper on Ginger's shorts, and pull them away just enough so they fall off her hips.

"You little slut. You forgot to put on underwear today."

Ginger stands before me, exposed and beautiful. She is blushing again.

"I did? I must've been preoccupied."

I'm next. Ginger fairly tears my clothes off. This is how it has been, since we started our sexual relationship. I take my time with her, one piece of clothing at a time, occasionally touching her or kissing her. She is much more impatient. 'Get out of those clothes, Becks, so I can ravage you.'

We are naked in front of each other, each enjoying her respective view. We have gotten to know each other's curves and dips and erogenous zones, able now to find them in the dark. It is sexy and comfortable at the same time.

"I'm not getting any nakeder!" Zara calls out.

"Is that a word?" Ginger wonders.

"Who cares?" I hook my arm through Ginger's, and together we walk into the other room.

ZARA

I'm lying on my stomach on the bed, my feet waving in the air, when Ginger and Becks walk in, arm in arm. I sit up quickly. If I'd had a cock, it would have sprung to attention.

I don't know what I had been expecting. Becks is thin to the point of skinny, with narrow hips, a flat stomach, and bony shoulders. Even so, her breasts are full; too often, thin girls have no boobs. Becks is a nice exception to that rule.

But Ginger. Oh, Ginger.

Ginger and I had seen each other partially clothed in the back of the storeroom, but the light had been dim and we hadn't gotten completely naked. I hadn't been able to really appreciate the beauty of her body.

She is curvy in all the best places. Full hips. A small, rounded belly - not concave, like Rebecca's. Flawlessly formed thighs, with a tiny little bush in between, in the shape of a triangle. And her breasts. They are very likely the most perfect breasts I have ever seen. A line from The Princess Bride comes to mind: "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world."

Well, here are two right in front of me, Westley.

I immediately go to Ginger, and pull her to me. I tip her head up, and holding her face, begin to kiss her. Meanwhile, I press her naked body against mine. She moves her hands to cover mine, and breaking the kiss, she eases my hands down to rest on her breasts.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

My hands tremble on her breasts. Her nipples are hard. I fondle, I massage, I grasp, I pinch. I lower my head and bury it between her perfect breasts. She moans softly, stroking my hair. When I lift my head to look up at her, I see she seems mystified by my reaction.

Becks shakes her head. "And she keeps those things hidden by a bra."

I raise an eyebrow. "If she didn't, every hetero guy within fifty miles would be trying to get in her pants."

Ginger looks between the two of us. She reaches her hands out, to place one on each of our shoulders.

"I don't want a hetero guy in my pants. I just want you two."

My loins quiver, growing moist. I see Becks is aroused as well, her face flushed and her breathing deep.

"Well." I look at my two new lovers. "Shall we begin?"

GINGER

When Zara asks if we should start, I get another case of the shys. This may have been my idea, in theory, but I have no idea how something like this even works. The night I had lost my virginity, Jack and Becks had taken turns with me. I knew that had been necessary; when Jack had forced me to give him head, he'd had an orgasm and ejaculated into my throat. After that, he'd needed time to recover, so that he could get hard again and actually fuck me. While he'd been resting, Becks had given me head, to keep me (and her) happy.

But this, this is a collaboration. Not one person being held prisoner while two others use her to pleasure themselves - it didn't matter if that had been successful when I was the "prisoner" in question. We were all in agreement that this was going to be consensual, and open. But what did that mean? Taking turns, group satisfaction, unusual positions? Or would we just play it by ear, and let what happened, happen?

Zara and Becks are both looking to me for an answer. I stand a little straighter, nod decisively, and toss my hair back over my shoulder. I hear Zara give a small squeak.

"Lie down on the bed," I tell Zara. She does immediately. I move to the foot of the bed, then turn to Becks. "And you. . . Lie down next to her. If she starts to move, find a way to keep her still. I need to concentrate." Becks likes to play with my hair while I'm between her legs, and while I'm used to that with her, I think if Zara were to do it right now it would just distract me.

Zara is lying on her back; Becks climbs up next to her and snuggles in, her knees pulled up and her arm across Zara's breasts. Zara turns her head to Becks, and before I duck down, I see the two of them begin to kiss.