Love Like a Blue Shell Pt. 01

This is, by far, the longest story I've ever written for Lit. It was so big, in fact, that I had to break it into four massive chunks. This is Part One. Eventually this series will feature group sex, masturbation, exhibition/voyeur, incest, oral, girl-on-girl, and (a lot of) cheating/swapping. Things start out a little rough, but I promise -- everyone gets their just desserts in the end.

Everyone here is over 18.

*****

"Ah, the blue shell. There may be no better metaphor for the bleakness of life. One minute you're cruising along, on top of the world, and then... BAM, you're totally hosed. Just when you thought you had it in the bag, life throws a blue shell." - Kotaku

"Oh fffffffFFFUCK!"

Tim's girlfriend Taylor writhed and shook as she drove herself down on his cock. God DAMN that girl was amazing. Watching the lithe brunette work herself up and down -- her little titties wobbling, brown hair flinging into her face -- just looking was almost enough to make Tim cum. Let alone the splendid snatch currently squeezing his cock so wet and wonderful.

I am the luckiest man alive, Tim thought.

Taylor wasn't a supermodel, but she had a pretty face and a tight body with a mischievous smile that just made her oh so wantable. Tim had long ago decided that this was it: Taylor was "the one." He hadn't proposed or anything -- they were both only 24 -- but Tim knew. He'd never be with anyone else.

"Oh God I'm going to cum so fucking HARD!" Taylor cried. Her motions slowed and she leaned forward. She dragged her long, tight nipples through Tim's thick chest hair.

"M... me too," he groaned.

"Just warn me when, OK?"

Taylor was so close, Tim didn't want to stop her now. But he could feel his pleasure racing breakneck and he couldn't exactly stop that either. Tim knew that filling her up with his fertility was not an option. No matter how badly his body was demanding he should.

Usually they used condoms but that morning had come out of nowhere. They'd woken up and suddenly Taylor was on top of him -- stroking his dick, nipping at his neck.

"Oh..." Taylor was back up on her haunches, driving her perfect ass down like a fucking fuck machine. "Oh... Here it... Here it..."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

*

Taylor fell off Tim like he was a mechanical bull at the bar. God dammit she'd been right on the edge when that stupid fucking...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Well whoever the fuck it was, they were fucking persistent, Taylor thought.

She looked back at her boyfriend, wistfully. Just one more second on that wonderful cock and she'd... Well it wasn't too late yet, Taylor thought, she'd just get rid of whoever was at the door and then get right back to where she'd left off.

"That's probably Steve," Tim said, "Man, he's really early, though."

Wait. What?

"Remember?" Tim said, now standing and stretching, "I told you they were coming over to watch football today. Steve and his new girlfriend. I can't remember her name."

This day just kept getting worse. Steve was a friend of Tim's from work. Steve thought he was funny and knew he was handsome and it made Taylor want to stomp his head like an overripe grapefruit. Except the grapefruit was probably smarter than Steve and, thus, probably worth preserving.

Taylor threw on her jeans from the night before and pulled on a sweater. She felt her pussy squelching as she walked through the living room. Her whole body was still screaming for it's hard-earned release and Taylor was already coming up with clandestine plans to sneak into the bathroom and rub her aching sex to sleep once the guests were settled.

For now, though, Taylor quickly dragged her hand through her hair, put on her smile, and swung open the front door.

"Swifty!" Steve cried and threw open his long, athletic arms for a hug. His turtleneck was scratchy and his cologne -- a scent that Taylor had quietly nicknamed Molestieur -- smothered whatever remained of Taylor's good mood. Taylor kind of understood why Tim liked Steve -- it had to feel like hanging out with one of the popular kids. But Taylor hated the popular kids and that's why she'd never hung out with them.

Taylor finally extricated herself and then gestured for Steve to come into the apartment. A girl with blonde hair and apple-pink cheeks followed him. The girl was cute, Taylor supposed. She waved in Taylor's direction and then looked at the ground. Taylor couldn't decide if she was shy or exceptionally rude. Knowing Steve's type, probably the latter.

"Sydney, this is Swifty," Steve said and Taylor bristled.

Swifty. Steve's little 'pet' nickname for her. Of all the things Taylor hated about Steve, she liked this least of all. She didn't even look like Taylor Swift -- more like Avril Lavigne if she were forced to pick. Taylor didn't like Swift's music, either. Or, really, anything about the poppy, overly popular blonde. But since she was named Taylor, that was enough for Steve. Thus with the Swifty.

Taylor got out some beers, then busied herself in the kitchen while Steve flipped on the TV. Taylor could tell, though, that Steve wasn't watching the screen. He was really looking her way. Like he could somehow see exactly what she'd been doing before he'd knocked.

It made Taylor feel ill, but it was also a bit of a thrill. She'd gone from burning hot to freezing cold in a matter of minutes and the drop had left her with the shivers.

*

Tim did his best to wash the sex scent off and then went into the living room to greet his guests. He found Taylor standing in the open kitchen, absently wiping down a completely clean countertop. Steve, his work friend, was recumbent on the couch, watching some reality thing about chefs marooned in the Arctic.

Tim noticed none of this. His eyes locked in one place: the young blonde sitting next to Steve.

"Oh hey," Steve said, "Glad you could join us. This is Sydney."

Oh. My. GOD. Sydney was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Blue eyes big and bright. Tim thought Taylor was beautiful. But this buxom blonde? She made his sultry soul mate seem almost shabby.

Sydney had long blonde hair like spun gold that hung down to her shoulder blades, while Taylor's was mousy brown and cut just below her jawline. Sydney had big, bee-stung lips while Taylor had thin pink lines. And while both women were about the same height -- five three or so -- Sydney's bust had to be at least triple Taylor's. Tim's brunette girlfriend was barely a B-cup on her best day, which meant that Sydney had to be a... God. Tim couldn't even put a letter on it.

Steve subtly eyed Taylor while she glared at Tim who was clearly entranced by Sydney who seemed to look at anything except anyone. It was late fall in Boston. The TV was blaring, the beers were out, and while everyone was looking, no one saw where they were headed.

*

Taylor stood in the kitchen and stared into the living room. She was going to stab something. Someone. And soon.

"Hey Swifty, grab me another beer?" Steve called from the couch.

"Get one yourself," Taylor snapped.

"Tim, your girlfriend is being rude," Steve said.

"Play nice, honey," Tim said, barely looking up from staring at Sydney

"That's a great idea," Steve said, "Let's play for it."

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked, cautiously. Her Spidey-senses started to tingle.

"I mean we play a game and whoever loses gets the other person beers for the rest of the day," Steve said.

Taylor didn't even blink. "Name your game," she said. Taylor didn't play games for a living, not yet, but that was her dream. She streamed 20 hours a week online, mostly MOBAs like LoL. But honestly, she'd play almost anything as long as there was a prize at the end. She'd grown up in a big family where competition was key. Challenging Taylor to a game was like asking LeBron for a little one-on-one.

"What about the Switch?" Steve asked, "I don't suppose you two have Mario Kart?"

They did have Mario Kart, of course. The most recent version of the venerable racing series was one of Taylor's favorites. She had played every installment, even the portable ones.

"Kart sounds like fun," Tim said.

Fun. Taylor shook her head. This wasn't about having a good time. Steve had just issued her a challenge, and on her home turf, too. He was trying to insult her, like always.

But this time stupid, annoying Steve had stepped in it. All Taylor wanted was a way to humiliate him for how he treated her all the time. Now he'd offered himself up in the easiest way possible. It was too good to be true. Taylor laughed in her throat, despite herself. Steve was a goner.

"I'll fucking rape you in Kart," Steve said, and Taylor couldn't help but shudder at the way he said that word.

"Fine," she said, gloating, "You've got yourself a game."

*

Steve sank back into the couch, like drifting down a river under the warm summer sun. In front of him, Taylor was setting up the console. She was bent over at the waist, practically planting her perfect ass in his face.

God, Taylor. Steve'd been with a lot of girls -- he had a way with women that he couldn't put words to -- but Taylor was different. She was everything he ever fantasized about: thin little body, sly smile, and deep green eyes. Her tremendous, tiny titties and perfectly sculpted butt.

Steve had been with Sydney for about a month. She was seriously hot -- the blonde hair, the big boobs -- but she was so vanilla in bed it was hard to bear. Laying there, silent, just letting it all happen.

Steve just knew that Taylor would be different. She would touch and tease. She'd play. Sydney was like a sports car -- fancy and unable to really do all that much besides look good. Taylor? That girl was a full on fuck truck. She'd get dirty as you wanted and come back for more. Steve couldn't help but covet her.

Taylor straightened and handed Steve his controller with a sneer. The sexy girlfriend seemed to dislike Steve so much -- too much -- and all that dirty look did was confirm what he had always suspected: Taylor wanted him. All she needed was an excuse to claim what she secretly craved.

And he was going to give it to her.

*

"Let's make this a little more interesting," Steve said, "How about whoever loses the race has to do a shot."

"Wait," Taylor said, "You want to play Mario Kart, the drinking game?"

"It does sound like fun," Tim said.

"Fine," Taylor said and flopped down on the lounge chair next to the couch, "Best of four races. Whoever loses does a shot."

Tim took his usual character, Yoshi. Then Steve and Sydney chose Link and Princess Peach, respectively. Finally, Taylor took her favorite racer: Donkey Kong.

"Going with the big monkey," Steve said, "That's a bit of surprise."

"Get used to staring at big monkey ass," Taylor replied, "Cause you'll be behind him the whole way."

Tim noticed that Steve didn't seem too unhappy about the idea of staring at Taylor's ass. Then he looked over at Sydney and saw she was holding the controller like she'd never seen such a strange device.

"Have you played this before?" he asked her.

"Not in a really long time," Sydney said, her voice soft, like she was afraid of someone hearing.

"Well it's your standard racing game. Just go fast and, y'know, try to stay on the road. OH! Also there are weapons. You pick them up as you go around the track. You can block the way with banana peels or knock other racers off the road with turtle shells. There are other things, too, but... Well, you kind of have to see it for yourself."

The screen panned over the track, showing the group's four racers -- plus eight others steered by the computer -- all set up and ready to go. It counted down 3...2...1... and then they were off. Tim stayed focused on his own kart as it pinged over boardwalks, blasted over a beach, and swerved around dangerous, kart-crashing crabs. Mario Kart was very strange when viewed objectively, Tim thought to himself.

The karts raced around the track for three full laps, racers dodging dangerous obstacles, flinging objects at each other. Cheering and cursing in equal measure.

Taylor burst out to an early lead and took first easily. If that frustrated Steve he didn't show it. He just smiled and waved the controller, admitting defeat. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with three highball glasses full of some brown liquor that Tim didn't recognize. He took a drink.

"Not just a sip, you have to finish it," Steve said.

"I thought you said we were just doing shots," Tim said.

"You guys don't have any shot glasses. Besides, this stuff is weak as water."

Tim would have sworn they had shot glasses somewhere but he didn't argue. The brown liquid burned down his throat in three deep swallows. He thought it was only beginning. He was already too far gone.

*

After she dominated all four races, Taylor figured they were done. Even Steve had to know when he was beat. She stood and started to put away the game.

"That's it for you, huh, Swifty?" Steve asked, "Afraid I might take your title?"

Taylor felt her cheeks warm and not from the alcohol. "You'd have to win one first."

"If you're so confident," Steve said, "Let's do another round. Unless you want to give up now and admit that I'm better than you?"

Taylor didn't even pause to think about it, she just tossed her brown hair behind her ear and pressed start. "Suck my dick, Steve," Taylor said. She hadn't even thought about saying it. The words had just slipped out. She felt a little sheepish at first. But Steve just chuckled.

"Swifty, you dope, you don't even have a dick to suck." His disdain made the words appear even more appealing so Taylor said them again.

Taylor took the first race easily, as before. However, as she crossed the line, she saw that Link -- Steve's character -- had been behind her right up to the end. It was a little disturbing, Taylor had to admit.

The second race started almost the same as the first. Once again, Steve was on Taylor's butt the whole way. Then suddenly he took a tight turn, his kart gained speed, and he took the lead. He didn't even cheer as he crossed the finish line. Just stood up and poured out three more tall glasses of alcohol.

The drink was sickly sweet and it made Taylor's stomach twist. Just one glass and already she felt the alcoholic warmth pulse out from her stomach and shot straight to her head. Whatever, Taylor thought, she wouldn't be drinking another.

Only the next course came up and everything seemed to go wrong. Steve won again and, worse, he didn't even bother to taunt her after his win. He was so far ahead, he hardly cared.

After every race, Taylor told herself that it was an aberration, a bit of bad luck. That next time she'd win with ease. And yet, once again, Taylor found a "shot" sitting in front of her, served by a smirking Steve. And then the cycle all over again. Lap after lap. Drink after drink.

"Uh ohhhhhh," Steve said, "Looks like the champ's in trouble."

Taylor slouched in her chair, head all the way back. Without lifting her head, Taylor said, "Rematch."

"Wait," Tim said, "I really don't think we should be drinking anymore. I'm way over my limit and I think Sydney is too."

Taylor picked up her head and glared. What was Tim thinking? They'd been together long enough for him to know that she wouldn't play for nothing. Couldn't. Not that every game had to be a deathmatch -- they would compete for who did the dishes or who had to drive the other to work. Once they even played for special 'favors.' That had been a lot of fun, even though Taylor had absolutely crushed him without mercy.

But if they were going to compete it had to be for something and Taylor took it as a personal affront -- a miscarriage of morality -- that Tim would even suggest such a thing as prizeless play.

"Can't we just, like, play for pride or whatever?" Tim asked. He looked at her wide eyed, like he couldn't understand where this was coming from. God, he could be simple sometimes. Tim didn't have siblings growing up. He didn't have to fight for every scrap. He played games because he liked the puzzle. For Tim, a loss was as good as a win. For Taylor, it was death. Especially against a smug s.o.b. like Steve.

And so Taylor said the words that would take the game from a little harmless fun to something far more exciting and destructive. From a rainstorm to a typhoon.

"It isn't fun if there are no stakes," Taylor said, the words seeping out of her like smoke.

"Well, Steve said, as a very strange smile slowly crept across his face, "I suppose you could pay me off in other ways."

"Like what, take my shirt off?" Taylor asked, poisonously.

Steve shrugged. "Sure, I'd accept that."

Taylor froze. She'd been joking, of course, playing around. And now she found herself foot-first in Steve's trap.

"Wait, so we're playing strip Mario Kart now?" Tim asked.

"Honey, I don't know if I'm comfortable, like, doing... Y'know. That," Sydney said.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Steve said, "Just a little harmless fun amongst friends. Unless you're really so worried about me kicking your ass, Swifty."

"I'll give you a sock,' Taylor said.

Steve agreed. Perhaps a little too quickly.

*

Taylor looked down at her bare foot and flexed her purple painted toes. Somehow this little exposure felt wrong. And because it felt wrong it also kind of felt right? But also not right. As well. Taylor was too drunk to untangle it all.

But, apparently, not too drunk to get her Mario mojo back. As if they'd never left, Taylor returned to her winning ways. And perfect timing, too -- every time she won, three other people took off clothes. So while the apartment was getting naked-er, Taylor stayed barely barefoot.

Tim was the first to lose his shirt. Taylor knew she should be upset about Tim showing his bare torso to the room, but for whatever reason it just didn't bother her. Tim wasn't muscular, really, but she liked his pecs and the dark brown hair they were covered in. Taylor thought about that morning. Squeezing Tim's thick cock with her cunny. The pleasure building in her sex, her body. Oh, why had she stopped?!

Taylor realized for the first time that she was really feeling it -- the alcohol, the thrill of the nudity. This was fine, she told herself. This was fun.

Then it was Sydney's turn. The blonde said nothing, just sighed and lifted up her sweater. Taylor couldn't help but notice the look of disappointment on Tim's face when he realized the busty blonde was still wearing a plain white t-shirt.

Finally, after yet another loss, Steve stood, made a loud sigh, and lifted off his long sleeve shirt. His chest was broad, with little circles of hair around his nipples and a stripe from his belly button down to his... other parts. Taylor found herself appreciating his body before she reminded herself how disgusting he was.

Taylor smiled. The room was nearly half-naked while she was only exposing toe. This was how she would end it, Taylor decided. Once she stripped them all down, Steve would have to admit defeat. Just the thought of him walking out of the apartment, clothes in his hands like they were a corpse... Taylor was willing to risk a lot if she could see that.

"Suck my dick!" Taylor said, arms raised, as she won yet another race.

With nothing else to lose, Tim had to shuck his long pants, revealing his wiry, hairy legs and a pair of blue boxer briefs. Taylor noticed the bulge there and didn't know whether to be proud that her boyfriend was packing or sad that the erection was almost certainly over the blonde sitting next to him. Well, Taylor thought, it would only get worse now because it was Sydney's turn to take off her t-shirt.