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Life After Party

Olivia flopped over, pressing her arm to her forehead.  A headache drummed inside her brain, dubiously reminding her of the night before: the tailgating party turned into a postgame party turned into, well, she didn’t actually remember.

A breeze hissed through the room and she shivered.  Then she sat up, wide awake, her skin forming goosebumps.  She was naked in a strange bed, with no sign of its owner.  She bit her lip and pawed through the covers frantically.  No sign of a condom, either.

“Oh god,” Olivia said, dropping her face into her hands and trying desperately to slow her heart rate. Finally, she dared peek through her fingers at the room.  It was sparsely decorated – definitely a young person’s room, with a few heavy metal band posters and a coat rack with a couple of dark, heavy coats.  Above the door was a small wooden sign with painted elephants fading around the border.  When she squinted, Olivia could read what it said: Jerri’s Room.

Jerri.  She cast about in her memory, trying to remember which scruffy-faced freshman the name might belong to, but no one came to mind.  And anyway, it didn’t matter.  She wanted to be up, dressed, and out before her one-night stand returned and awkward words had to be exchanged.

She was just standing up and pulling her too-big Bulls tee over her head when the door opened and in walked a short girl with close-cropped hair and an irresistible smile.

Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth.  "Oh my god!  I swear, I am not here to steal your boyfriend.“

The girl’s smile wobbled, but did not fade.  She set the brown bag she was carrying down on the desk.  "My boyfriend?  Olivia, what are you talking about?”

“How do you know – ”  But it all fell into place.  "Jerri,“ she breathed, and she could see the I above the door burning fiercely with revelation.  "You’re Jerri.”

Now the smile did disappear.  "You don’t remember me?“

"I don’t remember much of anything.”  Olivia dropped her voice, ashamed.  Her cheeks were hot as she took another good look at Jerri, at her hard little body and open, honest face.  If she squinted hard enough, she could see why she would have thought she was hooking up with a boy, when she was drunk off her ass.

Jerri blinked, then sat down on the bed, staring at her hands in her lap.  "Oh.  I’m sorry, Olivia.  I thought you knew.“  She looked up from under her dark lashes, daring a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.  "You don’t…don’t hate me for it, do you?”

“Hate you?”  Olivia opened her mouth to continue, but then she closed it, because she had to think.  Fuzzy memories surfaced.  They were talking; Jerri introducing herself at the party, with no malice or dishonesty, and Olivia taking her hand and marveling at her soft skin and perfect nails.  Olivia touching Jerri’s face.  Jerri leaning in for the first kiss, the first of many in a night Olivia realized with her whole body that she had loved.

“Hey,” she said.  "Hey, I just remembered something.“

Jerri looked skeptical, but hope glimmered in her eyes.

Olivia put her hand to her forehead.  Her head still ached, but standing there in her t-shirt and nothing else, Jerri’s gentle gaze on her face, she knew something with a conviction deeper than she’d ever known before.

"I remember how much I like you,” she said with a smile.

Jerri’s relieved grin could have blinded with its brilliance.  "So you’ll stay for breakfast?“  She pointed to the paper sack. "I got bagels.”

Olivia thought she might overflow.  Instead, she lifted her shirt over her head and stood naked, her nipples erect, in the center of Jerri’s room.

“Let’s fuck first,” she said.  "I want to remember it for real this time.“

Jerri’s whole face pinkened with shyness.  "Okay,” she said.  "Come here.  Lay down.  I want to taste you first.“

A thrill ran through Olivia’s whole body, starting between her legs and singing in her brain.  She spread herself out on the rumpled covers.  Soon, Jerri’s soft fingers began to play across her skin, starting with her legs, followed by kisses light as butterfly legs.  Olivia sighed contentedly.  She loved long mornings.

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The Actress Next Door

“Really.  Men.  I’m so fucking sick of them.”

I watch as June wrenches the bouquet of roses out of her mailbox and crushes them under her Crocs.  She throws up her hands, her tight midriff showing under her baggy grey sweatshirt.  She looks up, catching me watching, and smiles.  "Hey, Mercy!“

I hate when she addresses me by name, because I have no idea how to address her.  "Hi, Miss Maples,” I mutter.  Her porn name sounds awkward coming out of my mouth, but she’s never shared her real name.  Too much risk in the business.

She laughs, tossing her silky ponytail over her shoulder.  "For the love of God, will you just call me June?  We’re all ladies here, we can handle first names.“  She strides over to me, leggy and inviting.  "I made extra lemonade, and if you refuse it, I’ll consider you a bad neighbor.”

My shy smile nearly splits my face.  I’ve only dreamed of being acknowledged by women as beautiful as June.  "But it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,“ I say, immediately regretting it and feeling like the ill-fitted nerd I am, "so won’t you be mine?”

June’s face flutters, and my stomach churns, but it doesn’t seem to faze her.  "Of course,“ she says, and extends her hand.  I slip mine into hers, my whole body tingling with giddiness.  "Let’s go spike some lemonade and sunbathe. I’m feeling girly today.”

Inside her house, I feel entirely out of place.  Everything is quality, even the drapes, and compared to my relative bachelor pad it’s like a palace.  An even worse realization hits me when I remember I have nothing to sunbathe in.

“Psshhh.  You’re basically my size.”  She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me as I part my lips to protest.  "You think I don’t know what you look like under those baggy clothes you wear?  I’ve scoped out the competition.“  She winks, leaving me weak-kneed, and throws a sexy black-and-white bikini at me.

"You – watch me?”  The bikini dangles from my hand like a foreign object.

She’s blushing, just enough to color her smooth cheeks, as she pulls off her sweatshirt to reveal a bright, flowery halter top underneath.  It flatters her torso, her perky B cups.  "Well.  Now and then.  When you leave the blinds up, almost like – like you mean me to see.“  She motions with manicured nails.  "Shirt off.”

My turn to flush as I comply.  "If we’re being honest…I do mean you to see. I’m sorry.“  Apologies bubble up like a dammed river as I pull the two-sizes-too-big shirt over my head, but June crosses the room in three strides and puts her fingers on my lips.

"Shut up.  That’s not what I meant.  I’m a porn star – I see naked women all the time.”  She closes in; our bodies are nearly touching now.  The shirt drops from my hand.  "Just not any I’d care to keep around.  Until you.“

"Me?”  I feel like I haven’t had a drink of water in weeks.

“You.”  And she kisses me.  She tastes like strawberry chapstick and expensive perfume, and underneath all of that is a hint of ordinary girl, laundry and TV dinners and old books.  I want to devour her.  I compensate by kissing her back, my hands tracing her fine bones until I reach the back of her head.  I clutch handfuls of her golden tresses, like I have in my dreams.

I have to break it off first, gasping for air.  "June,“ I manage.

She licks her lips and purses them, trying to hide a smile.  Her next move is to kick her Crocs off behind her and shove me heartily onto the couch.  I sit down hard, crumpled into the cushions, and when her sweat pants are off she straddles me so her crotch is at my eye level.

"Let’s skip all that first date shit,” she says, planting kisses along my forehead like my grandmother’s tulips, all in a row.  "Except the part where we giggle a lot. I want to cuddle and watch movies and not think about men except to laugh at them.  Okay?“  As she says this, she wriggles forward until I can’t stand it any longer and plunge my hands into the bikini bottom.  Her ass is as smooth and hard as I imagined.

"Yeah,” I say, “okay.”  And I peel the bottoms forward and press my whole face to her pussy.  She moans, and I don’t think she means to.  I close my eyes.  She smells perfect.

Ever so gently, I extend my tongue and caress her clit, just once.  This time her moan is unmistakable.  "God, but the men could learn a thing or two from you.“

"Satisfaction guaranteed,” I say, grinning.  She touches the corner of my mouth and echoes the smile.

“Then get to work, before I ask for my money back,” June says, and I oblige, burying my face chin-deep in her delicious folds.  She writhes against me, teaching me her most sensitive points by the way she moves her hips, a dance I will not soon forget.

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Little Darlin’

“Ho, boy!”

John looked up from his campfire at the horse he had heard coming an hour back.  He touched the brim of his hat to the figure silhouetted against the setting sun.  "Evenin’, partner.“

The rider giggled and swung down off the fidgety animal’s back.  John tried to keep his eyes from widening but was only partly successful – the riding skirts were too shocking.  "Ahh, my ‘pologies.  Evenin’, ma’am.”

“Ain’t no ladies from where I’m standin’.”  The girl flipped her hat off, loosening a mane of curly brown hair and revealing freckled cheeks and a tilted smile.  She thrust her hand in John’s face.  "You can call me Little Darlin’.“

"Can I now?”  A suspicious bubble boiled up in John’s gut, and he stared at the hand without taking it.  The looming emptiness of the desert around him seemed to yawn and shift.  "Or is there gold to be paid if’n I do?“

The girl narrowed her eyes for just a second, then collapsed into a cross-legged sitting position next to the fire.  "Nah, not out ‘ere.  Out ‘ere we’re all just lonely and lookin’ for some company.”

“I see.”  John kept his voice level.  "And what sort o’ company you be huntin’ tonight?“

"Yours,” the girl said.  She shrugged, digging her teeth into something she’d fished out of the leather bag on her belt.  "Probably.“

John sized her up for another long moment.  Despite her haphazard appearance, she was at ease and in surprisingly good condition for as long as her stallion’s hooves indicated they’d been traveling.  He guessed she had a small firearm tucked away somewhere, but he didn’t imagine she would use it.  He straightened up.  "Arright.  Shoot.  What’s your game?”

“I like cock,” she said, wrapping her whole tongue around the word with a toothy smile, “and ain’t no spit-polish piece o’ wood gonna satisfy my hungry pussy.”

John’s body responded for him.  He leaned towards her, and this time he was the one to offer his hand.  "I think I can help with that.“

She tugged him with such strength that he fell forward onto her, and they both landed in the sand.  Her hands were clutching at his hair, sliding into his shirt to grope his back, then slipping into his pants and finding where he was waiting for her.  John kissed the place he loved to kiss on women: where the jaw met the neck, the knot of strength and determination.  She moaned and arched up against him.

He sat up to paw at her skirts until he found where they came loose from one another.  Separating them with deft fingers, he found her, too, waiting eagerly.  Already she was thrusting, her torso writhing and her legs scrabbling for traction in the sand.  John ducked beneath the skirts and put his mouth against her, breathing in sweat and horse and desire.  He lapped at her until she wailed like a coyote, head thrown back towards the moon.

He found the gun, in the top of her boot, and gently slipped it free.  He felt her tense, then relax, then laugh, "Well, hungry is as hungry does,” and came against his cheek.  His face dripping, John flipped her skirts up against her chest and unzipped his pants.  He wiped his cheek on his shoulder, smiling down.

“Come along, little darlin’.”

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En-Twinned

Clara and Tara.  They had always been Clara and Tara, twins extraordinaire, inseparable from the day they were born.  Their mother proudly hung a photograph of the two girls, tiny and newborn, their eyes tightly shut and their tiny hands intertwined.

Clara yawned and sat up, her perky breasts swaying on her chest as she leaned over the lump beside her.  "Morning, Tara.“

Tara’s green eyes fluttered open.  "Morning, Clara.”

Clara leaned down and nibbled her sister’s ear.  "Are you ready to get up yet?  Cause it’s Saturday and I’m not.“

"Awww.”  Tara rolled over, pushing herself up on one elbow to smile coyly at her sibling.  "Are you a horny girl?“

"Maaaybe.”  Clara tried to arrange her features demurely, but Tara was laughing.

“Darling.  Don’t.  Just be yourself.  That’s what I love about you.”  She cupped her twin’s chin in her hand and tilted her face so their eyes met.  "Really.  You.“

Clara moved so their lips brushed, barely at first, then with more ferocity.  Tara’s hand slid up Clara’s bare leg, stopping when it encountered the insignificant barrier of Clara’s pink thong.  Nibbling Clara’s lip, Tara maneuvered her fingers to remove the thong in one swift tug.

"Mmm, you’re brilliant,” Clara murmured, her lip caught between Tara’s teeth.  "You’re going to make some little boy a very happy man.“

"Maybe,” Tara said, rolling onto her stomach and tugging back the covers so her sister’s bright, short-cropped hairs were visible.  Lazily tracing the outline of Clara’s mound with a red-tipped nail, she added, “Or maybe I’ll just stick with the one who makes me happy.”

“Sissy.”  Clara planted a kiss on the top of Tara’s bright blue hair.  "No promises you can’t keep if you’ve got the butterflies.“

"Until then,” Tara said, and buried her face in Clara’s lap.  She sought out the familiar, sweet, sensitive areas with her tongue, stroking them with all the love she could muster.  Clara tossed her head back, leaning against the headboard, and sighed.

“I would miss – ahhhhh! – waking up like this.  No man is as talented – ooohhhhhh – as you.”

Tara’s tongue darted in and out of Clara’s pussy at an impossible speed.  She lifted her head, her chin shining with Clara’s moistness, and grinned almost evilly.  "Nope.  And that’s the secret.  I can be into girls as long as I want and I’ll never be lonely.“

"I will never turn you down,” Clara said with a light laugh.  She pushed her sister so Tara sprawled, hair like a sea-colored halo about her head, her dusky skin contrasting the old quilt they had always shared.  Clara parted Tara’s lower lips with her hand and gazed admiringly for a moment.  "And I’ll always return the favor.“

She swiped her tongue across the length of Tara’s pussy, eliciting a shiver and whimper, and ducked to her work.