B & E (1st Part) free porn video

The man was a little buzzed, but not as much as the two women. They seemed fine in the club, dancing, laughing, talking loudly to hear one another above the music. But when the three of them stepped out into the mild night on the way to the car, they were both a little loopier than he realized, one on either side of him, each clutching an arm and taking small, careful steps, punctuated by the occasional wobble. Of course, they started way ahead of him. He saw the wine glasses on the kitchen counter when he got home from work. They were already a little giggly and goofy by the time the three of them got to the restaurant where they had dinner. More wine there, and then onto the club, where they’d all had at least two or three Patrons.

When they got to the car, Alison, his wife, told her friend Kathryn to ride up front with him. "You can see better from up there," she told her.

“What is there to see?” said Dale. “It’s dark out.”

“She can see the city at night,” said Alison. “She’s never seen it at night.”

“She’s only going to see it for five minutes,” said Dale. “Then we’ll be on the highway.”

But Alison had already climbed into the back of the sedan and stretched out along the seat, prying off one shoe with the toe of the other.

Kathryn was Alison’s best friend from California. That’s how Alison always referred to her: “my best friend from California,” as if to distinguish her from best friends from other states or geographical regions, Dale guessed. Until just recently, Dale and Alison had lived in California themselves. They’d moved out there several years before for new tech jobs. Kathryn took an internship at Alison’s company, and that’s where they met and hit it off. This past spring, Dale and Alison relocated back east, and now Kathryn was out to visit for a week before she went back for her senior year at San Jose State.

Kathryn was twelve years younger than Alison. She was a native Californian who had never been farther east than Modesto, so she said. She couldn’t believe “how green everything was” out here. She was okay, still a bit of a wild-ass college chick, which is why, Dale figured, Alison latched onto her. Reliving something or other. On Kathryn’s second night in town, Alison took her to the bachelorette party of one of her and Dale’s old college friends, and they both came back completely shitfaced. Someone at the party used Alison’s phone to set up an Uber pickup for them, then texted Dale a head’s up. The Uber driver who brought them home honked her horn in the driveway a few times until Dale came out.

“They need a little help,” she said.

Dale hauled Kathryn, the larger of the two, out of the car and the Uber driver helped Alison.

The driver said, “That one got sick, so I’d set her up with a bucket if I were you,” meaning Kathryn.

“Shit,” said Dale. “In your car?”

“No,” said the woman. “This one saw it coming and had me pull over, managed to get her head out the door.”

*

Dale navigated the several city blocks that took him to the boulevard, then picked up the ramp to the bridge that would take them through the outbound tunnel.

“There it is,” he said. “The city at night. Get a good look.” But Kathryn had her head back against the seat and her eyes closed. He glanced quickly to the back where Alison was stretched out asleep already. Couple of lightweights, he thought. Now they were in the tunnel, where the overhead lamps bathed the interior with a yellowy glow.

“You’re not going to get sick, are you?” said Dale. “Because you’re going to have to do it out the window until I get through this tunnel. There’s no place to pull over.”

He glanced again at Kathryn who now seemed to be awake, her heavy-lidded gaze fixed on him. She was attractive in a healthy, athletic, California kind of way. She was a big girl, almost as tall as Dale. Not heavy, but strong-looking, with big tits that he was pretty sure were natural. A lot of wavy blonde hair. Tonight she was wearing a loose-knit sleeveless sweater—he could see the beige of her bra through the wide weave—and pale gray, flat-front trousers, tight around the ass and thighs and pegged at the bottom. She looked good.

When they emerged from the tunnel, onto the highway, and regained the darkness, he felt Kathryn’s hand on the inside of his thigh. He turned to look at her again, and she leaned across the console to try to kiss him. He pulled back and looked toward the road.

“Whoa,” he said quietly. “Driving here.” He didn’t remove her hand, though.

*

Dale wasn’t a saint anymore. He and Alison married a dozen years ago, right out of college, but after the first couple of years Dale started wondering if he had given the relationship the proper amount of time and thought. He liked that Alison was smart—very smart, smarter than him—and down-to-earth, and still liked to tear things up and have a good time. He’d just never really been crazy about her like he’d been about some other women. But that was one of the reasons he thought marrying her was a good idea. Crazy wears off. Then what do you do? If there was no crazy, then things would always kind of stay more or less the way there already were.

Dale managed to behave himself until the last couple of California years. He was out with people from work one night, someone’s going-away celebration. After dinner, at the bar, he made a beeline for the empty seat next to a girl named Kristina, one of the company’s corporate recruiters. He didn’t really have much interaction with her at the office, but he knew her. Hell, everyone knew her; she was sensational, sexy as hell. Dark complexioned—some kind of middle eastern descent—she was long and lean, with straight black hair and big, wet eyes. She was wearing knee-high suede boots and a short, tartan plaid skirt over black tights, and a black, sleeveless knit turtleneck. She had an empty glass beside her and was thumbing over her phone, tapping and swiping.

“What’s the average length of time a guy manages to stay in this seat before you tell him to leave you the fuck alone,” said Dale. He probably shouldn’t have said “fuck” but he wanted to get her attention, wasn’t sure if he could tear her away from her phone.

It worked. She looked up at him, and there was what he thought a little flicker of pleased recognition. Then she went back to texting but smiling now.

“Don’t know,” she said to her phone. “No one ever talks to me.”

All these nerdy computer guys. Most of them couldn’t manage an intelligible sentence in front of their own sisters, let alone someone who looked like Kristina, cool and dark.

“You’re out of their league,” he said.

“But not yours?”

“Oh, mine too,” he said. “But I’ve just had a couple drinks and I don’t give a shit.”

She clapped her phone screen-side down on the bar and slid her empty glass slightly toward him like she was moving a chess piece.

“Maybe if I have a couple more myself I won’t give a shit either,” she said.

An hour later they were out in the parking lot, her back against the side of his car, Dale close up against her. Her black tights were pulled down her thighs halfway between the hem of her skirt and the tops of her boots. Her sweater and the cups of her bra were pushed up high on her chest, and she held the back of Dale’s head as he sucked on her round, coffee-colored tits and finger-fucked her. She’d unzipped him and wrangled his cock from his trousers and had it in her other hand, just holding it tight, squeezing it. She gave it a couple distracted strokes now and then but was concentrating mostly on her own approaching orgasm, and that was okay. He pumped in and out of her. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head away from her breast when she started to come, twisting and bucking against him, as he held two fingers buried up to the last knuckle in her cunt.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from her when she was done. She let go of him long enough to pull down her bra and shirt to cover herself. He tried to somehow bend his erection back into his open fly but she took it again before he could and this time started jerking it quickly and steadily. They were looking down, watching her hand stroking his stiff dick, both of them breathing hard. Dale leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the top of her head, grunted.

“Shoot it,” she whispered. Dale began to pump out his load onto her bare thigh. She slowed her strokes, squeezing him gently. Watching the thick jizz spurting from his cock. He looked down. His streams of white cum seemed almost to glow against the deep brown of her skin.

So that was the start of that.

*

The morning after the bachelorette party, Dale drove Alison back to get her car while Kathryn stayed behind sleeping it off. Alison was wearing dark glasses even though the morning was overcast. Probably to hide the dark circles under her eyes.

“I should have just driven you guys and picked you up myself,” said Dale, but not in a scolding way. Just as a matter of fact. He wasn’t trying to give her shit; he knew she felt like walking death.

Alison said, “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine and the next… Everything just got suddenly very rowdy and wild once the dancers showed up.”

“More than one?”

“Three,” said Alison. “A policeman, a cowboy, and a sailor.”

“The maid of honor friends with the Village People?”

“All these women start screaming, doing shots. I just hope the bride-to-be is not pissed at me.”

“Why would she be? You said she was hammered too. You said a bunch of them were.”

“Yeah,” said Alison. “But Kathryn… She was a bit of an instigator. Pushing shots. Dancing and grinding up against the strippers. I think she might have encouraged the shedding of inhibitions a little bit.”

“Those college girls,” said Dale.

Alison was quiet for a couple minutes, then said, “She’s grinding up against the one who was dressed as a cop. Except now he was only wearing a hat and mirrored sunglasses and this G-string. He’s thrusting his hips, you know, and that pouch with his junk is swinging back and forth. And she just drops, yanks his pouch down, and starts sucking his dick.”

“Holy shit,” said Dale.

“Yeah, really,” said Alison. “You should have heard how the volume level went up at that. But there were a couple bridesmaids, I think they were from the groom’s side, they looked extremely uncomfortable to begin with. But that business thoroughly scandalized them.”

“So Kathryn did she…?”

“You could tell the guy, the dancer I mean, you could tell he kind of thought about it for a second. But then he pushed her away and tucked himself back in, wagged his finger at her, like ‘naughty, naughty.’”

“Huh,” said Dale. “Maybe he was gay.”

“He wasn’t gay,” said Alison. “Or maybe he was, I don’t know. The point is, you’re not allowed to touch the dancers. Not their junk. They’ll let you get away with a slap on the ass here and there. But after seeing Kathryn get that guy’s dick out, some of the other women tried to get a little ‘naughty naughty’ themselves. The whole thing got a little raunchy.”

“I thought that’s what happened at bachelorette parties,” said Dale. “Bring in some choice cuts for the bride to have a little, forbidden snack before she takes her vows. The lusty ladies all get to have a taste.”

“You watch too much Internet porn,” said Alison.

*

Kathryn moved her hand up to Dale’s crotch and began squeezing his cock through his trousers. How far are we going to go with this, thought Dale.

He adjusted the mirror to see Alison in the back seat. She was out. She probably wouldn’t wake up until they got home and someone shook her out of it. Unless he bulls-eyed a monster pothole or had to jam on the brakes and stop short for a deer running in front of him. Shit, he thought, that could cause a whole series of problems. Forget about Alison waking up and taking in the situation; he could be maimed for life as well. No, he didn’t want to run into a deer or try to evade one while this drunken college chick had his cock in her mouth.

He was hard, though, imagining her blond head bobbing in his lap, her big tits pressing against this thigh. Thinking about it since Alison told him the bachelorette party story. He hadn’t had a blowjob since he’d moved away from California, and the idea of getting one from this horny college girl who probably wouldn’t fucking remember it the next day even when she still had the taste of his cum in her mouth… Jesus.

She was leaning over him now, trying to find the tab of his zipper, hair falling across his lap. Her friend, his wife, less than a foot away. Kathryn was just one of those chicks who got horny when she was lit. He took her hand away, gently pushed her back upright. “Not here,” he said.

*

The two men eased the flat screen television from its wall mount and placed it carefully on the floor. As they stood up, they both heard it at the same time and froze.

The taller one, in a black long sleeve t-shirt and black jeans, pulled his mask down over his head: a rubberized Batman cowl that he bought at a costume shop, covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose. The shorter man, Erik, wearing a lightweight black hoodie and black Dickies work pants, pulled down his mask too, just a plain black eye mask like Robin wore on the old TV series.

Of course, this caused a problem. They were both supposed to have the same black eye mask. They talked about it. Erik told the taller man, Bobby, to get two simple black eye masks. “But not that cheap shit plastic kind that little kids get with their Halloween costumes.” The plastic edges on those things cut at your skin, and the elastic always broke after you looked at it, like, three times. Told him to get something more durable and comfortable. Bobby wanted to get some kind of full head coverings, like those caricature masks of former presidents.

“That’s been done,” said Erik.

“Yeah, but it kind of freaks people out when they see it.”

“The point is not being seen, ever,” said Erik. “Masks are just a precaution. Besides, those things are rubber. Do you know hot it gets in there? And you can’t see shit, the eyeholes aren’t big enough, you got no peripheral vision. This is cooler, just plain black masks. Like the Lone Ranger. Zorro.”

Bobby nodded. Erik could tell he was thinking it over. “Or like The Incredibles,” he said.

“There you go,” said Erik.

Bobby came back from the costume store with a shopping bag.

“Check this out,” he turned his back to Erik, bent over, then stood up and turned around wearing the cowl.

“That’s not what I told you to get, Bobby.”

“I know, but this is cooler.”

“Where’s mine?”

Bobby pulled a black nylon eye mask from the bag and tossed it to him.

“What the fuck?”

“That’s what you told me to get.”

“For both of us, yeah,” said Erik. “So what am I supposed to be, Robin? You’re Batman and I’m Robin?”

“We can’t both be Batman,” said Bobby. “You can’t have two Batmen.”

“So why do you get to be Batman?”

“I don’t know, I just figured. You know, I’m taller.”

“Fine,” said Erik. “You be Batman. Then when someone spots you and the cops go around to all the costume stores asking did anyone buy a Batman mask recently, good luck with keeping your secret identity.”

But nobody had seen them yet, not on any of their first five jobs. Now they stood there in the darkened living room, masks down, listening, and there… there it was, they heard it again, like someone moaning.

To their left was a doorway leading into a dining room. They moved carefully in the darkness to the doorway, staying close to the wall, and looked in.

Across the dining room, opposite them, was another doorway with glass-paned French doors, opened in, that let on to a kitchen. Someone was in there. There was a light on, but a dim one, like from a range hood or open refrigerator door. Erik touched Bobby’s arm and they both stepped quietly into the dining room, staying back far enough that they were still in darkness, to get a better look.

Now they could see that there were two people, a man and a woman. The man had his back against the kitchen island. He was wearing a bathrobe and it was open. The woman was naked, or seemed to be. She might have had panties on, Erik couldn’t tell for sure in this light. A big blonde woman with lots of wavy hair and a pair of large tits that the guy was fondling and sucking while she stroked his hard cock that was sticking straight up between them. The guy was murmuring and sighing and making little gasps of pleasure while the woman seemed mostly silent, even as the guy sucked and mauled those big tits.

“Jesus,” whispered Erik.

“Why are they doing it in the kitchen?” whispered Bobby.

“I don’t know,” whispered Erik. “Maybe for a little variety. You know, mix things up.”

“It’s pretty hot,” breathed Bobby. Erik looked over and saw his partner with his hand on his crotch. He nudged him.

“Cut that out, you’re giving me the creeps,” he whispered.

They both stood there in their masks and black clothes, unseen, watching. The man in the robe finally took a break from the great bounty of tits and the woman immediately lowered herself to her knees and started sucking his cock. The man stretched his arms out along the island and began pumping his hips slightly. The woman bobbed steadily, workmanlike.

“What do we do?” Bobby whispered. Erik glanced at him and held up a finger, one sec. He was thinking. 

*

Dale got everyone home without incident and without any more advances from Kathryn. He followed the two women up the stairs, both of them seeming more sleepy than drunk now. Kathryn looked a little confused when they reached the top of the steps like she was trying to remember where the guest room was. Dale and Alison continued down the hall to the master.

Alison made straight for the master bath and Dale went into their large walk-in closet. He stripped, hung up his pants and sport coat, tossed everything else into a laundry hamper, and put on his bathrobe. When he came out, Alison was already asleep atop the bed in a white t-shirt and panties, curled up on her side, her clothes in a pile on the floor.

Dale looked at her. He’d half-hoped that getting ready for bed had awakened her enough that he might be able to convince her to have sex. That would have taken care of things for him. So much for that.

The light was still on in the master bath. He left it on and closed the bathroom door. Then he left the bedroom, closed that door behind him, and walked along the carpeted hallway until he got to the door of the guest bedroom.

He couldn’t tell if a light was on in there. He leaned close to the door and listened. It was quiet. She was probably passed out on her bed like Alison. Should he tap on the door? If she was awake she’d open it. But what if she’d changed her mind by now, sobered up enough to think better of it? What did he want? He could ask her if she was feeling okay and did she need anything, like a bucket. He could say he was going downstairs for a little nightcap and did she want one.

What he did instead was go downstairs to the kitchen. The room was dark. He clicked on the light above the range hood and then almost shit himself.

Kathryn was standing there, naked… no, she was wearing a pair of beige panties, but that was it. Drinking from a bottle of beer, leaning against the frig. Those big tits slung just a little low but not too—definitely real, the way you’d expect large natural breasts would look on a twent one year-old. What else he could see, she looked a little drunk still, a little muzzy around the eyes, but she wasn’t weaving or wobbling, so that was good.

She didn’t say anything, just moved right in on him, backed him up against the stone-topped island, set her bottle on it, and started kissing him. Wet, hungry, open-mouthed kisses, hot and purposeful. He ran his hands over her sturdy, smooth thighs, and then around back to cup her ass. Then he brought his hands up between the two of them, trying to create a little space so he could fondle those tits.

They were everything he told himself they would be. Natural, very full and soft, with big pink nipples. He lifted and squeezed and fondled them, tonguing the tip of each nipple before settling in to suck juicily at the left one. Maybe the nicest pair he’d ever sampled. She pulled the sash on his robe and took him in her hand, first cupping his balls, massaging them, before wrapping her fingers around his very erect dick and tugging on it while he sucked at her.

Dale came up for air with the intent of getting a hand in her panties to start fingering her pussy, but she dropped to her knees before he could and started blowing him. Okay. He watched her suck him, moving his hips only just a little, her hand and mouth working in concert over his shaft and cockhead. Shit, he thought, she’s on a mission.

He’d originally thought about fucking her, bending her over the island, her big tits pressed to that cool limestone while he drilled her young collegiate pussy. But she was sucking him like she wanted a mouthful and it wasn’t going to be long before he gave her one. The weird thing was, though, she was silent. Didn’t moan or gasp or even breathe very hard while he was sucking her tits. Wasn’t making any “mmmm” sounds while she ran her lips rapidly back and forth along his cock. In fact, he couldn’t remember her saying a single word since they left the club. 

Fuck it, if she wanted to drink down his load, she could have it. Set her up on the island, spread her legs, and eat her out to return the favor. Maybe he’d get hard again doing that and maybe he wouldn’t. If he did, then he’d bend her over and pound her. Right now, however, he’d give her the two-minute warning, in case she wanted his cock inside her before he unloaded.

“I’m gonna come,” said Dale, just above a whisper. Kathryn didn’t pause. All right then, he thought, here we go. He stopped resisting, thrust his hips more sharply, a little uncontrolled. Felt himself cross that threshold, then let loose what felt like a generous first jet of cum. Kathryn didn’t choke or gasp. What she did do was back his cock out and point it at her chest, still jerking it, pointing it first at her right tit, then her left, distributing the subsequent spurts over her large breasts, before taking his cockhead in her mouth again and sucking hard while squeezing his shaft, milking him dry.

“Fuck,” Dale exhaled. His cock dangled between them. Kathryn’s head was bowed. She was looking at her chest and smearing his jizz over her tits with both hands. Then she looked up at him, looked him right in the eyes with her stoned expression, still massaging her semen covered breasts. Smiling. Holy fuck, he thought.

*

It seemed like a good opportunity to net just a little bit more for their efforts. The television, the electronics… all that stuff was fine, easy to get rid of, but even so they were only looking at several hundred dollars, maybe a grand, total. With the people already in the kitchen, in a fairly vulnerable position, and about to be scared shitless, maybe they could take a bit more time and check out things upstairs.

Erik didn’t expect to find any money. Only old people kept cash around, usually hidden though not always very well. With the old people, what you did was look for coffee cans. If you looked in the cupboards or sometimes down in the basement and you saw an old Chase & Sanborn or Maxwell House can, jackpot. Or kitchen counter canisters: flour, sugar, coffee, tea. It was always in the coffee or tea canister, sometimes under a pile of teabags, but still.

These people, they wouldn’t have any cash around, nothing to speak of, anyway. But they would have other valuables. Erik didn’t know shit about most jewelry, rings and bracelets. Anything that looked like it had diamonds he would take, maybe things with a sizable gem of some sort, but he wouldn’t know until he tried to get rid of it whether it was worth anything or not. Watches, though. A Rolex or Patek Phillipe could be worth way more than everything else they hauled out combined.

The other thing: people who owned expensive watches usually had more than one. Someone with a $25,000 Bulgari probably also had a $10,000 Tag Hauer and a $3,000 Omega Seamaster for every day. If they found anything like that then they could leave the television, save themselves having to carry that big fucking thing all the way back through the yard and to the van for just a few hundred bucks.

But it was still a risk. They would be making their presence known in order to duct tape these two to a couple of bar stools while they checked out the upstairs. Erik was pretty mindful not to take unnecessary risks. He had probably planned and then backed out of more jobs than they actually went through with, just because he didn’t like the feel of things at a particular house. Murphy’s Law might be a cliché, but it was still a fucking law.

The elements of surprise and probably circumstance were in their favor. Bobby had a piece of duct tape over the guy’s mouth before he could understand what was going on. By the time he did, or seemed to, Bobby had pulled off his robe, firmly parked the guy’s bare ass atop one of the kitchen island stools, and taped up his hands behind his back.

When Bobby squatted to tape the guy’s ankles to the legs of the barstool, the guy started kicking out at him. Bobby gathered up the guy’s balls in one of his leather-gloved hands. “Really, pal?” he said. “I can tape these up instead.” He said it in a gravelly movie-Batman voice. Jesus, thought Erik.

Bobby must have begun giving the guy's nuts a squeeze because he stopped swinging his legs.

Through all this, though it had taken probably less than a minute, the woman remained on the floor, sitting back on her heels now and looking back and forth among Erik and Bobby and the guy. Erik took her beneath one arm and pulled her to her feet. Guided her to sit in the empty stool. Up close, she looked pretty young. He figured she must be fairly wasted, too, since she didn’t seem afraid or upset, or even embarrassed that she was almost completely naked with some guy’s cum drying on her big tits.

Erik said, “Sweetie, I don’t want to put this tape over your mouth because it’s going to hurt like hell when you finally pull it off. But that means you have to be quiet, okay?” like he was talking to a child. “If you’re not quiet, we’re going to have to do something about that, and you won’t like it. D’ya understand?” The woman nodded. She was looking at him and he was looking at her. Erik suddenly felt a little uncomfortable; there was something odd about her.

Erik told Bobby to tape her wrists together in front of her so she could just rest her hands in her lap. To make sure she stayed on the stool, he hooked her foot behind the leg and taped it in place, then did the same with the other. The woman just watched him.

Bobby stood up and said in his Batman voice, “Hope it’s not too tight.” She looked over at Erik and then back to Bobby.

“Why, are you going to fuck me?” she said.

“I meant the tape,” said Bobby.

“No,” said Erik. “We’re not going to fuck you. We’re burglars, not rapists.”

“Burglars?” said the woman. She looked surprised now, but only slightly.

“Now remember,” Erik said to her, putting his finger to her lips, “no more talking.”

Bobby picked up the guy’s robe and draped it over the woman’s shoulders, pulled it around her a bit.

“Thank you, Batman,” she whispered.

**

When they found Alison’s car from the night before, Dale dropped her, told her he’d see them later, then took off to make his tee time. Her head was pounding and she needed a long, hot shower. A couple of hipster guys in summery straw fashion fedoras—the maid of honor’s house where they held the bachelorette party was in a trendy city neighborhood—checked her out as they strolled by: petite little brunette in yoga pants and tank, big brown Ray-Bans. Christ, these skinny-assed guys with scraggly beards and thrift shop clothes and vapes. She’d take those smooth, cut, male strippers any day. Could see herself slithering up and down that shit. Jesus, she sounded like Kathryn. As soon as she spent any time with that girl, the voice in her head started sounding like Kathryn.

She told Dale about what happened at the party because she knew he’d hear about it eventually. If it didn’t get to him sooner, someone at the wedding would definitely tell him. Alison and her slutty, cock-hungry friend. God knows how the story would have evolved by then, purple monkey dishwasher. Well, so what? Alcohol and hormones and a loud, thumping beat, these things happen. And that little indiscretion was the only thing anyone saw, as far as she knew.

She squirmed a little in the driver’s seat and pushed her sunglasses up on her head. Wished the clouds would clear, wished the day would get hot so she could lay out on the patio and let the late-summer heat bake some of the poison out of her body. There was a hangover throb in her head just above her left eye. She didn’t find herself hungover too often these days and had forgotten just how much it sucked.

She put the car in the garage and came in through the door that led directly to the kitchen. No Kathryn. Alison had left her a note, a Post-It she stuck to the mirror in the guest bath. It was still fairly early on a Sunday and after last night, Alison would have still been in bed herself if she could.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went down the hallway. She could see from the foot of the stairs that the doors to both the guest bath and bedroom were open. She heard a low humming sound when she got to the top landing and went to Kathryn’s room, leaned against the door jamb.

Kathryn was on her bed in a gray San Jose State t-shirt, nothing else. She had a chrome-finished vibrator between her spread legs and was pressing the length of it against her clit. Her head on the pillow was turned toward the open doorway but her eyes were closed. She had a finger in her mouth, and she was moving her hips gently back and forth against the vibe, moaning softly. In a moment she reached back behind her and grabbed the top of the headboard, raised her hips high and held them, shuddering, her mouth open wide now.

Alison bit her lower lip and watched her friend come. Kathryn pushed the length of the toy into her cunt as rode the orgasm, her body straining upward and pulling the t-shirt taut across her breasts. She relaxed finally as it ebbed, let go of the headboard, laying there mostly limp now, panting. She turned to the doorway and opened her eyes.

“You bitch,” said Alison in low, sort of throaty voice. “You started without me.”

Kathryn made Alison come twice, the first time by eating her out, the girl burying three fingers in Alison’s pussy while sucking on her clit. Then she produced a second toy from her luggage, a pink rabbit dildo of soft, translucent plastic with a forked protuberance curving up from the base to vibrate against Alison’s already sensitive clit while Kathryn fucked her with the ersatz cock. She felt limp, wrung out, after the second orgasm. But her headache was gone. Both of them lay on their backs on the queen-sized guest room bed, not touching.

“What time does your hubby get home?” said Kathryn.

“Probably not for another two, three hours,” said Alison. She knew why she was asking. “Plenty of time. I just need a couple minutes.”

“I know,” said Kathryn. “No rush. I’m good for now. So, last night. What did you tell your friend— what’s her name?”

“Lisa.”

“What did you tell Lisa we were doing when we came back into the party?”

“I told her you were outside throwing up in bushes and I was holding your hair.”

Kathryn laughed. She turned onto her side to face Alison and propped her head on her hand. She said, “I wonder if she thought it was strange that I continued drinking shots when I came back in.”

“I don’t know,” said Alison. “She was pretty hammered herself by that time. She probably just thought you were just a crazy, fucked-up, drunken slut. Which you are.”

Kathryn started to run the tip of her finger around one of Alison’s nipples. She said, “I think she was horny, too. We should have taken her out to the back yard with us.”

Alison swatted Kathryn’s hand away. “Stop that. I think one of those uptight bridesmaids probably would have missed her and gone looking. That’s all we’d need.”

Kathryn said, “Are you mad at me?”

Alison didn’t answer right away, like she was thinking about it. “No,” she said.

“I thought it was pretty hot,” Kathryn whispered. “That sailor was into you.”

Alison’s eyes were still closed. She said, “I don’t know about that. You were the one sucking him.”

“Yeah,” said Kathryn, “but I could just tell he was more turned on by you. The way he was kissing you…”

Alison was thinking about the stripper who was dressed as a sailor inside at the party, how much sexier he looked out in the backyard, in street clothes, leaning against the curved ladder of the jungle gym in the near dark. His jeans open and pulled halfway down his thighs while Kathryn squatted in front of him, bobbing on his erect cock. His zippered hoodie open and Alison with her hands on his hard, bare, perfectly smooth chest, her tongue in his mouth, his in hers. How he smelled of cigarettes and Altoids and some kind of aftershave and sweat. He was a head taller than her so she stood on the first rung of the jungle gym ladder. She thought that he kept looking at her, inside, at the party when he and the other two were performing, but then thought maybe she was just imagining it because she would have liked it if he was.

Kathryn lay her head on the pillow, her lips near Alison’s ear. She whispered, “And when he started pulling your zipper down, like, really slow, it was so fucking hot. And you starting grunting real soft against his mouth. I knew he was fingering you, his cock seemed like it got really hard then in my mouth. Like he was imagining he was fucking you…”

“I don’t think that’s what he was thinking,” Alison said softly.

Kathryn said, “Oh, he definitely was. ‘Cause as soon as you starting coming he completely unloaded in my mouth.”

“It was all your work,” said Alison.

“No, you set him off,” said Kathryn. “Your tight little pussy. He was thinking about filling your tight little pussy.” She sat up abruptly and pulled off her San Jose State t-shirt. She swung a leg over Alison, straddling her, then thrusting her pussy forward towards Alison’s mouth. “So much cum I almost couldn’t swallow it all,” said Kathryn, her voice a little hoarse. She was biting her thumb, looking down at Alison. “Pumping into my mouth. Pumping all that cream into my mouth, imagining it was your pussy.”

Alison’s eyes were still closed but her hands were on Kathryn’s ass now, pulling her close. Kathryn leaned forward and put both of her hands flat against the wall above the bed. “Lick my cunt,” she said.

To be concluded...

[Author's Note: Unfortunately, this story was just a little too long to submit in its entirety, so I'm forced to break it into two parts, even though it's really all of a piece. I hope you'll come back to read the concluding part once it's posted. Thanks!]