Friends, Plus One

As I reach to part Zara's legs, she draws up her knees and then lets her legs fall open, readily exposing her vagina. 'Okay, that's done,' I think. 'Someone's impatient.'

I find myself staring at the arrow tattoo. I trace the neon-green design with a finger, and feel Zara's muscles twitch under my touch. So much like Becks, and yet so different. Where Becks was like coming home, Zara's pussy is like going on vacation to a foreign country.

I can't tear my gaze from the little arrow. How much that must have hurt! I touch a soft kiss to it, and hear that small squeak again, muffled as Becks has her mouth over Zara's. I smile. I have made Becks make noises, but she has never squeaked. It is completely endearing.

I begin to run my fingers over Zara's vagina, darting around inside the fold of her lips. Zara squirms, and I feel Becks tighten her embrace. I pause, then began exploring again. Tickling, rubbing, whispering my fingers with a feather touch. Teasing. I pinch her clit, just so lightly, and she growls, deep in her throat. So different than Becks. Squeaks and growls.

I hear Becks, quiet and serious. "Wait. She's just starting."

I straighten slightly and stretch, and pull my hair back, absently wishing for a hair tie. Then I lower to my knees a second time, resting my hands on Zara's thighs to position myself. Again starting at the arrow, I begin to lick.

The only time I ever gave a guy head was when I was forced to, tied up and blindfolded. Jack had straddled me in a prisoner position (I'd since looked it up) and had nearly choked me with his bulging cock. It had been a heady (ha!) experience, and I had been aroused enough to orgasm, although I still kind of hated myself for it. Giving a girl head is sooo much different. Jack's forceful cock had made that experience violent and exhausting, for me as well as him. Satisfying a woman with your mouth is more sedate, more relaxing. Well, maybe on my end.

As I lick at Zara's vagina, and a little bit down near her anus, I zone out. I've done the same thing with Rebecca. I am so intent, so obsessed with my task, that I become a little too focused. I lose sense of time as I let my tongue explore. I lick up and down on her lower lips. Back and forth. I dot little patterns with the tip of my tongue. Zara's juices begin to flow, and I slurp them up. She tastes so different from Rebecca. Becks is sweet and tangy, almost citrus-y. Zara is bolder, heavier. Even her cum is thicker than Rebecca's. It reminds me of pancake batter.

Zara moves again, and I grip her thighs tighter, right near her ass. I won't be interrupted.

I spend a few more minutes bringing Zara to the edge (pun intended) and then purposefully holding back. I take one hand off of her legs, and stick two fingers into her. I open and close the fingers, twisting and thrusting them, meanwhile suckling lightly just under her tattoo. Zara makes that growling sound again. I remove my fingers, and glancing up, I catch Rebecca's eye. She is no longer kissing Zara. Zara is lying back, eyes closed and mouth open, head lolling back and forth as she massages her own breasts. Becks is kneeling at her side, her arms propped on the bed. She is sharing her gaze between the two of us. I think she is having a hard time deciding who to watch - me at work, or Zara in her near orgasm.

I smile at Becks. "Almost done," I whisper, then I return to Zara's pussy. I blow gently against her lips, then return to licking, humming softly so my tongue vibrates. Lastly I isolate her clit, and begin to suck on it.

I've barely begun when Zara orgasms. She stills, then abruptly goes rigid, her back arching so much she is basically only touching the bed with her shoulders and her rear. More cum actually squirts from her. I release her clit and began to slurp again. I suddenly can't get enough of her taste.

Zara's vag muscles are pulsing and throbbing under my mouth. She is twisting her hips, and her thighs clench around my head, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "Oh my fucking God!" she cries. Her hands lower to grab my hair, pulling it painfully. "Oh my fucking, fucking, Ginger, you fucking goddess!"

Once Zara's legs release me, I take a moment to shake the pain from my head. Then I climb up onto the bed. I cover Zara's body with my own, and I lower my face to kiss her. I place little kisses on her cheeks and nose. I fit my mouth over hers and kiss her long and hard and deep, something I have wanted to do since we felt each other up in the storeroom at Dick's Tricks. I put my hands around Zara's face, then slide them back to massage her neck. Our tongues collide, and I taste the metal of her tongue stud. Zara has her hands in my hair, and she is practically kneading my head. I hear a shuddering sigh deep in her throat.

Needing to breathe, I reluctantly pull away. Zara is staring at me in wonder.

"I thought this was your anniversary." She looks between me and Becks. "But I'm the one getting the presents."

I'm sitting on Zara, straddling her. Becks gets onto the bed behind me, and wraps her arms around me, placing her chin on my shoulder.

"The night's not over yet," Becks says.

BECKS

We swap positions, we rotate "tasks," we get wet and hot and sweaty. I get my share of attention, but I am beginning to realize this night (and maybe this weekend) is about Ginger experiencing someone new. Ginny does go down on me, but the cunt lap I receive is nowhere near as long, or as comprehensive, as Zara's was. And while Zara expertly ate out Ginger's cunt, she has yet to orally pleasure me. Oh, she got me juicy with just with her fingers, reminding me of how I'd done the same to get her out of her funk at The Dry Dock, but she saved her orgasm-producing tongue for Ginger.

And surprisingly, I'm okay with that. I know this was technically Ginny's "anniversary present" to me, but in all truthfulness, when I saw how giddy Ginger was about tonight's possibilities - like a kid laying sleepless in bed waiting for Christmas morning - that was enough of a present for me. The clear, shining eyes, the little beads of sweat on her upper lip, the slight flush of eager energy. . . She'd been sexy and sweet and just so cute, and I'd known at that moment that I'd do anything for her. Even being mainly the voyeur as Ginger and Zara begin scissoring, both panting and gasping and clutching at each other.

Because when this weekend is over, and we leave Zara behind, Ginny is going home with me.

ooOoo

The constant lovemaking makes us hungry. We take a break, and Zara cooks us all omelets and fried potatoes. Ginger and I sit together, draped in a sheet, to eat the food, but Zara has no issues with her naked body. She sits bare-assed in her chair, shoveling the potatoes and the egg dish in her mouth with little ceremony. She had even cooked the food nude, unconcerned with the splattering grease.

After eating Zara suggests we all take a shower. It's close quarters, with the three of us, but we make it work. We kiss each other under the falling water, our hair plastered to our faces. We become so taken with soaping each other up, thrilled by the way our hands slide around on our slippery bodies, that we use almost an entire bottle of body wash. "I'm gonna have to buy them another bottle," Zara murmurs, as she drizzles more soap on her hands, before fairly attacking Ginger's breasts.

Once out of the shower and dried, Zara pulls Ginger down on the edge of the tub, sitting behind her to braid her hair. Zara herself has pulled her own hair into a loose ponytail. "I'm not talented enough to braid my own hair," she says, matter-of-fact. "Anyway, I like the way it feels on my back when I'm naked, all swishy and ticklish." She pulls Ginger's braid aside and nibbles the back of her neck. Ginger shudders and groans. Zara chuckles, then lowers her head to kiss Ginger's freshly soaped shoulders. "But I got the impression," -kiss- "you wanted your hair," -kiss- "out of the way."

Then it's back to the bedroom. Zara brings out a small duffle bag, and pulls out a black, buckled waist harness. She's into the harness in a flash, and then pulls out a silicone dildo that she expertly places into the appropriate location. She stands before us, her arms akimbo and legs spread, and thrusts her hips at us. The dildo jiggles and bounces.

"That's ri-dick-ulous," I say, separating the syllables and accenting the middle portion. Zara dissolves into those musical giggles. "Where's yours?" she asks.

Ginger retrieves her backpack from the entryway. She returns to the bedroom with the long box, opening it reverently to display the expensive vibrating rabbit. Unlike our older battery-operated toy, this one can be charged by a USB cable. It's also waterproof - and the inner ridges warm up. I had charged the device today before we left to meet Zara, and when I'd turned it on to make sure it was working correctly, I had been hard-pressed to not try the toy out right then and there.

Zara takes the rabbit out of the box, and hits the button to test the vibration settings. When I can see Zara's hand beginning to shake with the force, she smiles appreciatively. She looks up at me and Ginger.

"Let's play."

ZARA

It's late Sunday morning when Becks and Ginger take their leave. Becks is so relaxed her pose is noodle-like; she has an arm slung loosely around Ginger, even as she leans in to give me a goodbye kiss. Ginger's posture is not as slack. Each movement seems to bring her discomfort. She is moving gingerly (ha!), and I can't remember the last time I saw her sit down. She's also occasionally rubbing her left shoulder, bunching up her baggy shirt in the process. She looks fairly miserable.

I regard her sympathetically, then reach out to caress her face. I catch her braid in my hand, and twirl it around my fingers. "You need to take some good drugs and get into a warm bath, Gin-Gin."

Becks turns her head, studying Ginger in concern. "Oh, honey." She kisses her on the forehead, and then smiles at her with obvious love. I feel a painful twist in my gut, remembering how Rhey used to look at me like that. Damn, I miss her. The semester's almost over; I think it's time I head back home. I can be packed and on my way by next week.

"I need to get her home," Becks is saying. "We'd better go." They walk out the door, their hips swaying in slow syncopation. I follow behind, escorting them out of the apartment building. It's warm and sunny out, and it's a little bit of a surprise. None of us had set a foot outside the apartment in the last day and a half.

Becks and Ginger head to the bus stop, Becks carrying both backpacks. About half-way there, Ginger pauses, then turns back toward me. She is smiling softly.

She lifts her shirt and flashes me. I see she's not wearing a bra.

I grin like a lunatic.

Maybe I won't go back home next week after all.

END