“True. ‘Kay,” she said softly.
She reached up and pulled. A tiny white lace thong slid down and fell to her ankles. She left it sitting there on her feet.
“Better?”
“Much,” she went back to touching herself. I paused to lick my fingers, wetting them so I didn’t rub her nipples raw. When I went back to pressing her nipples into her chest in slow circles, she moaned.
“Shhh… my mom and dad are downstairs.”
“Sorry,” she whimpered, “your hands on me like this just feel reeaally good. Kiss my neck a little? This is gonna make me go soon.”
“Sure, just try to keep it down. Wait, you’re not like… a screamer or anything are you?”
Stacey giggled, “No! Atleast not so far.”
“Good,” I began to kiss and lick gently at the side of her neck. Stacey started shaking.
“Hold me up?”
“Of course.”
“It’s gonna be big, Heather.”
I just kept licking her soft, strawberry-flavored skin.
Stacey was trembling against me, “I like this… I really… really… really… like… this!” and she came, rocking her head into me and humping against her own hand. In the mirror, I could see her mouth open and close silently, her eyes were shut tight.
When she finally stopped, I went back to cupping her boobs gently. She rubbed herself back against me and kind of purred.
Then the hand she’d been using to jill herself with came out from under her skirt. She lifted it up and up. It was moving towards my mouth. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. I don’t know if she read the fear in my face or she meant to tease me from the beginning, because her hand diverted to her own mouth. She sucked the wetness from her fingers sexily while I stared – appalled and turned on at the same time. “Wow,” she finally said.
I don’t know why I asked, but I was curious about her body. Down there. “Stace, are you, like shaved… or…”
She just grinned. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”
“No, don’t change for me. I want you the way you are.”
“‘Kay, wanna see?” Her hands drifted down to the hem of her denim skirt. She lifted it slowly… so slowly… like a professional stripper would.
I was holding my breath. Waiting to see if there would be bare, pink skin or soft red hair.
Why did it matter all of a sudden? Because it hit me that I’d be masturbating that night while thinking about pressing my face into her mound. My fantasies were always like that – a couple of steps ahead of what I was ready for in real life. For this fantasy, I wanted details. I needed to see so I could picture it in my head while I frigged myself to sleep.
“Girls! Dinner!” My dad roared up the stairs.
Stacey and I just groaned. She let her skirt fall. She kissed my neck again. “Come on, let’s go eat. You’ve given me quite the appetite.”
I smiled. “Fine. Fine. But let’s wash our hands first though. Particularly that right hand of yours. And I’m opening a window in here. It smells like somebody’s hot, wet cooter.”
We joined my mom, dad, and brother for dinner. They were used to her hanging around and everybody liked her. Especially, my little brother. He kept giving her googoo eyes.