Playmates Ch. 3

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This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.

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It was almost two weeks before Vicky saw the Rossas again. Her calls went unreturned, and they didn't show up at the playground. Memories of the day in the backyard came more frequently, until Vicky was masturbating a couple of times a day, in the shower, in the middle of night, anywhere that she could sneak a feel. She worried that Claire was avoiding her after the incident, embarrassed about the line that they had crossed (although technically, nothing happened) and she found herself sinking into a funk. The "massage" aside, she liked Claire's company, and hoped that their relationship hadn't been irreparably damaged by a few hours of highly charged, but ultimately harmless, fun.

Even Lance, who was typically oblivious to her moods, noticed the change. Not that she got any more action from him; that would be asking WAY too much. But at least he offered to take Terry on Saturday so that she could have some time to herself to "recharge".

One Thursday morning the telephone rang as they were leaving to go to the playground. On an impulse she answered it instead of letting the machine get it. She was rewarded with the sound of Claire's voice at the other end.

"Where have you been?" Vicky admonished.

"Oh, we had to fly west to see Alan's parents. His dad had surgery and his mom was a wreck. As the oldest, he was expected to be at his parents' side to help weather the storm." Claire said.

"We were just on our way to the playground," Vicky offered after a moment of awkward silence, trying to sound nonchalant.

Claire agreed to meet them there and the two women hung up. It was all Vicky could do to keep from speeding. She was finally going to see Claire! At the playground, the two women embraced like long lost sisters. As the children played, they got caught up on each other's lives. Vicky confided that she'd been irritable lately, but avoided discussing the reason why.

"Lance finally got so worried that he offered to take Terry this weekend to give me some time off."

"That sounds great! I know; why don't we make it a ladies' day? You know, make the men take the kids while we go to the movies, get our hair done, maybe eat somewhere that doesn't have a kiddie menus."

"Hmm, that sounds like fun," Vicky admitted, secretly thrilled at the thought of Claire joining here.

"Hang on," Claire said, pulling a cel phone from her purse and punching a series of numbers. "Honey, it's me. I'm sitting here with Vicky Montgomery, and we've decided that we deserve a break." She paused. "Bullshit, let's talk about California; they weren't MY parents. Lance has offered to take Terry; you two need to talk tonight and work out the details, maybe split duties; somebody entertains them, the other one feeds them." She listened again. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle of organizing my day off. He'll call you tonight." Pause. "Thank you sweetheart," she said syrupy sweet and disconnected.

"All set!" she smiled triumphantly. "They'll kiss our feet after a day with the monsters," she said giggling.

That evening, Lance and Alan worked out the specifics, and the date was set. Alan would come by at 9:00am Saturday and pick up Terry. He'd drop all three children off at Vicky's parents house at 4:00pm, where Lance would pick them up after he finished a round of golf with Vicky's father, take them to dinner, and have the Rossa children home in time for bed.

Saturday the doorbell rang promptly at 9:00am. Alan Rossa was about the same height as Claire, 5'4" or 5'5", with sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes, and very fair skin still showing evidence of a pretty bad sunburn. His hands were thick and stubby, with the dirty fingernails that plague most men that work with their hands for a living. He looked uncomfortable in the polo shirt and slacks that Vicky was sure Claire had insisted he wear.

She felt his eyes crawl over her, mentally groping, both flattering and embarrassing her at the same time. She stood 5'8" in her bare feet or flats, but dressed today for a day out she had on low heels that put her closer to 5'10". Her waist wasn't as thin as Claire's, but with her hips poured into the snug mini skirt and her breasts full and peeking out of the top of her blouse, even a blind man would have stared. Of course, it only helped matters that he was eye level with her cleavage.

"So nice to finally meet you, Alan. Won't you come in?" she asked graciously.

"Um, just for a second; the kids are in the car," he muttered, tearing his gaze away from her chest.

Her husband met them in the foyer with his arm extended and Terry trailing behind him. "Ah, my partner in coercion. How're you doing? I'm Lance."

"Al Rossa," he returned, shaking Lance's hand briskly.

At 6'1", 185 pounds, Lance towered over Alan. He was as blonde as his wife with the classic rugged features people usually associate with premier bloodlines, even though Lance had grown up very much on the wrong side of the tracks. A local boy, when Vicky had first met him he was bouncing at nights to pay for classes at the local state college. As a matter of pride he'd maintained his build 15 years later, and most men his age felt slightly inadequate around him, even dressed as he was in jeans and a t-shirt. Alan was no exception.

"Well, here's my little man," Lance said, scooting Terry forward. "I'll see you guys later." Without waiting for a response, he turned and went back to the family room.

Vicky bent down to straighten Terry's shirt and Alan got a generous view of her of the tops of her breasts. "Now Terry, I want you to mind Mr. Rossa like he was me or Daddy. If I hear that you've been any trouble, you'll be on punishment for a week."

"OK Mommy," the boy sang, stepping up on his tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek, then ran out the door toward the Rossas' minivan.

"Thanks again Alan," Vicky said standing. "Claire and I really need this."

"Any time," he called back as he followed Terry out.

When Claire arrived twenty minutes later Vicky was upstairs, so Lance had to answer the door. Like his wife, Claire had decided to wear a mini skirt that ended just below her hips. She wasn't wearing stockings, and her legs glistened, already coated in a thin sheen of moisture from the early morning heat. Her legs were much shorter and thinner than Vicky's, but the heels she wore made them bulge muscularly even when she just stood still. Her curly black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had on dark glasses that made her look even more exotic than normal. Clearly not as well endowed as Vicky, Claire had done the best with what she had. To accent her black mini skirt she'd chosen a silvery tank blouse that looked solid when she stood still but was totally see-through when she was in motion and the light hit her just right. With no bra, her dark brown nipples burned through the material, drawing all attention to the small round points. She looked up at him and smiled. He backed up to let her enter. As she passed, she couldn't help noticing the lump forming along the leg of his jeans. So he wasn't dead after all, just hibernating.

"Wow Claire, you look great." Vicky complimented as she came down the stairs and brushed past Lance without even so much as a goodbye.

In town, they started off with a facial and a manicure at a spa Vicky hadn't even known was there, and then decided at the last minute to forego the matinee for an early lunch at little place with exotic sounding food and a menu written on a chalkboard. They split a bottle of wine between them and tried not to notice the appreciative glances they were getting. After lunch, Claire suggested they go back to the house and watch videos rather than deal with the hassles of the movie theatre.

At the Rossas', Vicky ducked in the bathroom while Claire rummaged around for a few videotapes and another bottle of wine. Alcohol made her very sensitive, and her pantyhose were driving her crazy. She dropped them, along with her shoes, in a pile in the corner and took a seat on the sofa in the family room in front of the big screen television. Claire popped a tape in the VCR and joined her.

"I couldn't find any clean glasses, but we can drink out of the bottle if that's ok."

"Fine with me," Vicky giggled.

They watched a rerun of a popular drama that Vicky had already seen but enjoyed nonetheless. As their buzz got stronger, they started making fun of the characters, and then started making up bizarre sexual pairings and situations that they'd like to see acted out. They continued to sip on the wine as they laughed, a perfect end to a perfect day. Vicky knew she'd probably have one helluva hangover tomorrow, but it was well worth it.

As the credits rolled, Vicky picked up the remote to stop the tape, but Claire put a restraining hand on her arm. The screen filled briefly with static, and was then filled with a tan background. Vicky's eyes widened as she realized that it was Claire's thigh, a fact that became evident as the small wispy patch of black pubic hair came into view.

"We put it on the same tape as something normal to keep someone from 'accidentally' stumbling across it," Claire said simply.

The camera continued to move back until Claire's entire body was displayed across the screen. One of her hands was rubbing feverishly between her legs while the other held on to a thick pale cock belonging to someone standing just out of range of the camera.

"Al and I made this tape earlier this week. I thought you might get a rush out of them, especially since you played such a big part."

"Me?" Vicky asked, swallowing hard.

"Yes, you. I told him about the massage and he couldn't keep his hands off of me. I thought he was going to cum before I could even finish telling the story."

Vicky stared transfixed at the screen. No wonder Alan leered at her this morning. He was trying to imagine her naked and sprawled on his lounge chair! She'd never seen ANYONE she knew having sex before, and she was surprised to find out how much of a turn on it was. Claire was very vocal; Vicky was dripping just listening to her as the action unfolded. She could tell that Claire was excited also. Their smells mixed in the air like simmering pots, the aroma of one melding with the other to create a new, even better scent. Her clothes felt restrictive, uncomfortable. She wanted them off, to allow better access to her body so that she could feel as good as the Claire and Alan looked like they felt on the tape. Reading her mind, Claire reached over and placed her hand on Vicky's pussy, slowly her outer lips through her panties.

"Oh Shit," she groaned, and in a maelstrom of snaps and zippers and buttons they were both naked.

As Claire reached her first orgasm on tape, Alan's cock stuck inside her, she buried her head between Vicky's legs. Her breath was hot as her mouth covered Vicky's pussy and probed with her tongue. Vicky's eyes rolled up in her head and she shivered

"Unngghhh! Oh God, Claire, no!" she moaned. "We can't do this; this isn't right."

To Be Continued...