Duncan Fox: Spread wide and tied

"Well, I'm not. My girl's here."

Clara cringed. "What's the matter? Didn't you get her replaced?" she asked acidly in retaliation for her embarrassment.

"You applying for the position?" Grant demanded.

"She isn't," Wil said quickly before Clara had a chance to get in deeper. "C'mon man, what do you want? I'm freezing my balls off."

"Hell, you never use 'em anyway," Grant taunted.

"The fuck I don't! Ask Clara."

Clara cussed him silently.

"That true, Babe? He know how to use what he's got?"

"Yes."

"If you don't want anything, I'm gonna shut this damn window," Wil announced.

"I was gonna ask you over for a drink. Guess you're not interested," Grant said.

Clara felt a twinge of disappointment and a thrill of anticipation when Wil agreed that they weren't. She wanted to meet Grant. There was a gutsy power to his voice that intrigued her. At the same time, the gnawing hunger in her cunt wanted satisfaction.

"You folks want to come to a party tomorrow night?" Grant asked.

"One of your orgies?" Wil asked warily.

"I'm just having a few intimate friends over," Grant answered.

"I don't know," Wil temporized.

"Sure, why not," Clara spoke up recklessly. After all, Grant knew what she and Wil had been doing. And anyway, if things got out of hand, she and Wil could always retreat to his apartment.

"You sure?" Wil asked her nervously.

"Yeah. It'll be fun," she answered. "Besides, we never go out. Be a nice change."

"What should we wear?" Wil asked cautiously. "Shit, just come as you are."

"Oh sure!" Wil snorted.

"Chicken?" Grant taunted. Clara liked the idea of arriving naked at a party. Then she felt ashamed of herself. It was bad enough to be sitting around naked with Wil, without contemplating any further display.

"What time should we come?" Wil asked.

"Eight or so. If you've got any grass, bring it along."

"I never touch the stuff," Wil answered. "Turkey," Grant grunted.

"Can I shut the window now?" Wil asked acidly. "Yeah. Get back to your slit," Grant growled.

"And when you're done with her, send her over for sloppy seconds, will you?"

"Not bloody likely," Wil retorted, slamming the window. "Jeez, what a character. Why did you say we'd go tomorrow?"

"Why not? It'll be fun," Clara answered. "And besides, we never do go out. All we do is sit around here all the time."

"Okay, okay," Wil said, bending over to pick up the pizza carton. "You about ready for bed?"

She was caught flat-footed by the suggestion. Then she thought about what bed might imply this time, and felt a surge of excitement. "Oh, gosh, I don't know. I think I'd like to shower first."

"Help yourself."

Clara felt a flush of aggravation at his denseness. "I thought maybe we could both shower? Together?"

"Oh. Oh? Oh!" Wil stuttered stupidly. "Yeah, might be kind of fun."

"Excuse me while I use the toilet," Clara said.

"Uh, call me when you're ready," Wil mumbled, opening the sofa-bed.

She used the pot, then turned on the hot water in the small shower stall. It had peeling painted walls. There was a film of green on the cement floor. At one time the entire kitchen-bathroom area had been the bathroom for a single bedroom. When the building had been converted, the bathroom had been restricted to the small corner containing the toilet. A metal stall shower had been crammed in with it, while the rest of the room had been made into the kitchen.

After getting the water right, she stepped in and called Wil. She let the hot river stream over her body. She shifted, made the stinging spray burn her tile.

"Gotta take a leak," Wil noted over the hissing of the shower. "No peeking, okay?"

Clara assured him she wouldn't, and fought the urge to break her promise.

When he stepped into the shower, her soapy hands were ready for him. She clutched his cock. Her fingers slithered over his tool. He gasped as she fondled his jutting pecker.

"You may wash me, if you'd like," she noted in a low, throaty voice.

As the water hammered down on her back, his hands cupped the soft mounds of her breasts. His thumbs stroked over her nipples. She smiled up at him. She moved forward a fraction, and the head of his dick poked into her stomach.

His hands slithered down her body to her pussy. She let her legs spread as he lathered her moist curls. His soapy finger slid inside her and triggered a hot wave of pleasure. As fire swept up through her, she groaned softly.

She soaped his balls, felt his little sperm eggs slide around in their sac. Then, with his finger still probing her twat, she eased aside so the shower could rinse his dick.

Her pussy drooled with hunger as his finger explored its slick folds, probed deep into her tunnel. Clara squeezed his wet cock, milked out a creaming wave of juice. Then she smeared it over his hot shaft.

Finally, promising herself she would get it where she really wanted it after the shower, she released his dick. Grabbing the soap, she bathed him from shoulders to crotch, smeared them with lather. Then he took the bar from her, and his hands spread suds all over her warm smooth flesh. His hands lingered lovingly on her full breasts.

"We could try and make it in here," he noted as he pinched her tits.

"It'd be kind of cramped."

"You don't want to?"

She wished he'd assert himself more, though she really didn't want to screw in the shower. "Maybe some other time," she answered. "Let's go to bed now. It'll only be our second time, after all."

"You weren't a virgin, were you?" he noted as they rinsed.

She debated what to answer. She didn't know how much stock he put in virginity. "Not technically," she said at last.

"What's that mean?"

"Uh, well, I mean, my hymen had already been torn," she answered vaguely. "It's fairly common for athletic girls to have it happen."

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not." He shut off the water.

"Brrr, cold out here now," she noted, grabbing a towel. She handed it to him. "Dry me off?"

After a few minutes of brisk rubbing she was pink and flushed, and acutely aware of her nakedness. She scampered across the brightly lighted room to the bed and slid under the coven.

"Want a drink? A whiskey sour?"

"Okay," she agreed, propping the pillows up behind her. The sheet just covered her breasts. She watched his cock sway as he crossed the room. She shivered when she thought about getting that shaft again. The bed sagged as he joined her under the sheet. His skin was hot against her flank.

She let her hand rest on his upper thigh as she sipped the blazing whiskey sour. Then, teasingly, she eased her fingers over to his ready dick. She tickled it gently, lovingly. "Hi, George," she said softly.

Wil chuckled nervously, and put his hand on her sleek thigh. She shivered from the gentle caress. His fingers eased up toward her pussy. She squirmed and spread her legs so he could reach her soft, clean muff more easily.

Wil pushed the sheet down, bared her to the waist. "You have nice breasts," he noted softly, studying their smooth, pale curves, the half-hard nipples. "May I kiss them?"

"Uh-huh," she grunted.

His lips closed on one nipple, and flames lashed through her. Her hand tightened convulsively on his cock. His tongue stroked her nipple. It swelled, demanded more attention. When his finger slid into her cunt her thighs parted reflexively. She let her head drop back as he suckled on her breasts. He shifted from one to the other. The abandoned one always felt wet and cold.

As her passion built, she wondered what Grant looked like. He sounded hard, demanding. So unlike Wil, she mused. Wil was so polite and thoughtful it sometimes infuriated her. She loved him, but wished he would be a little more domineering.