{Author’s Note: This story is based very loosely on true events; several circumstances have been changed, and names have definitely been altered to keep a certain someone from being discovered by the rest of the feminine population...nyah, nyah, he’s all mine right now...}
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It all began with a conversation.
Five friends sat at a table in the food court at the local mall: Jerry, Amanda, Evie, Zane and Linda. They had all been friends since high school, and though it was almost eight years and several different experiences later, getting together once a month to go see movies was still something they made sure to schedule. Jerry and Amanda had married, Evie had gone through two divorces, the same as Zane (though each had married other people, not each other twice), and Linda was, well, still Linda.
So, sitting at one of the round tables in the cafeteria-like hall after seeing a Saturday matinee action movie, the five friends were talking about this and that, as always. And somehow, the topic wound up on sex. No one was quite sure how it happened; it was just one of those natural segues that occur around adults when they get together in a party atmosphere.
It was Evie who got them onto the topic of cunnilingus, though. She sucked on her soda, shook her black-dyed head at something Jerry had muttered, and stated, “—Now, that’s just typical male laziness!”
“I beg your pardon?” Jerry shot back, mock-offended. He squeezed Amanda’s hand, giving her a brief wink before adding, “Present company excluded, but try calling it the overtaxing demands of a female who doesn’t know what she wants! It isn’t always easy for us guys to satisfy our gals! I work damned hard to do so—and do you have any complaints about my laziness, hon?”
Amanda shook her curly blond head. “You’re not lazy in bed, honey. A little boring, sometimes, always wanting it doggy style—”
“Hey!” Jerry protested, and the others ribbed him for a few moments, before his wife winked and they shared a kiss. Both were blond, though his hair was more sandy-brown colored than his wife’s sunstreaked gold.
“Well, I *do* know what I want, and I want a guy who can lick me until I cum!” Evie stated firmly as the laughter died down, though not loudly enough to draw attention from the mall patrons at the other tables. She was brash sometimes, but she wasn’t obnoxious. “That’s all I ask! Just one oral orgasm—is that so difficult?”
“Only one?” Zane asked, arching a brown brow. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you limit your personal ambitions, Evie.”
Evie actually blushed. “I get…kinda tender, after just one. Two’s my limit, but I like to save that for being fingered while I fuck. Then I have to wait a couple hours before it can be touched again. I can fuck all I like afterwards, but no fingering or licking. Cunnilingus is definitely better than being fingered, but no guy’s that limber, to lick me while he’s doin’ the nasty. The best I’ve ever gotten was a finger-fuck while I was being eaten out, and I think that was the closest I got to having a great time, orally. Still couldn’t have more than two orgasms that way, though.”
Linda, the chestnut-haired member of the group, arched her own brow. “Don’t you mean it was…finger-lickin’ good?”
The other four groaned, and Amanda pretended to pelt her plump friend with a crumpled paper napkin. The blond woman shook her head. “I’m with you on that one; twice is about all I can stand to be eaten out before it gets too intense.”
“I thought women *liked* being eaten out,” Jerry offered with a frown. “You insist on me doing it about as often as we do the doggy.”
“Yeah, but I don’t go past two orgasms,” his wife pointed out. “I’m just too tender for a third one, at least not for three in a row, so I usually encourage you to fuck me at that point.”
Her husband grimaced. “Gee, and here I thought you were begging for it because you wanted it, not because it was an alternative.”
“Don’t feel so bad, man,” Zane commisserated with him, sucking briefly on his milkshake straw. “Women just can’t handle being licked for long.”
Evie grinned. “I think we’ve just been complimented, on a non-sexual level. Of course we don’t like being licked for long; we’re naturally competetive!”
“Oh, that was so lame,” Linda shot back. “At least *my* pun was better. Besides, not all the blame can lie on the woman. I haven’t even met a man whose tongue and jaw can withstand more than three orgasms, myself.”
“So it only takes three licks to get to the center of your tootsie pop, is that it?” Evie quipped, and they all groaned and pelted her with straw wrappers and napkin wads.
Linda shook her head, unaware of Zane’s curious scrutiny. “Come on, I’m serious here. I haven’t found a lover who can push my limits that far. I don’t get raw from cunnilingus like the two of you say you do, but I don’t know if that’s only because the guys I’ve tried it with get tired before they can wear me down with number four, or if I’m capable of going all the way to a hundred and four.”
“That’s strange,” Zane murmured, still studying her. When she glanced at him, he gave her a speculative look. “I’ve never found a woman who *can* go past three orgasms, no matter how much I want to keep going.”
For a moment, their eyes locked, and exchanged a sudden, new awareness of each other sexually. Linda, self-conscious about her plump, overripe curves, ducked her head and sucked on her milkshake. She cleared her throat of the confection and shrugged. “Well, I doubt I’ll find a guy interested in spending that much time between my fat thighs. You can get any woman you want to experiment on with your good looks, but us fat chicks are outta luck, in the research department; I’ve given up looking. Do tell us, if you do find one that you can push past the limits. It’d be nice to know if it were possible.”
Before Zane or the others could say anything—or worse, give Zane the time to confirm his inevitable rejection of using her as his test subject, thus giving the others a chance to tease her—she immediately changed the subject, returning it firmly to the movie they had just seen. Zane stared at her a few minutes more, then shook his head and joined the fray as the quintet dissected their favorite special effects scenes from the movie.
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Almost one week later, the chiming of the doorbell interrupted Linda’s usual Friday-night movie fest. Frowning as she reached for the remote, she paused the movie and got up. A check of her cotton pajamas in the mirror hanging in the hallway of her condo showed that, though a little strange with its pastel print of cowboy angels, the outfit was decent enough. She wondered who’d be calling at nine o’clock at night, though. Stepping up to the door as the bell rang again, she peered out through the peephole.
To her shock, Zane stood there. Despite the wall-eyed bend to the view, he looked handsome as ever in his all-black clothes, his black jacket slung casually over his shoulder. Wondering why he was there, Linda unbolted the door and opened it far enough to poke her head out. “What are you doing here?”
He gave her an inscrutable look, then shrugged. “I came over to talk. Can I come in?”
“If you don’t mind the place is a mess,” she countered, opening the door wide enough for him to enter. She was a little self-conscious about her pajama set, but he merely gave her a head-to-toe glance before ambling inside, checking out the rest of her décor. “Tomorrow’s cleaning day, for me. Tonight’s my movie night,” she added, shutting and locking the door again before following him into the living room. “If I don’t have a date, I rent a movie.”
“I take it you’re not seeing anyone right now?” he asked casually, glancing back where she stood with her arms crossed defensively over her bra-less breasts.
“No. I haven’t been seeing anyone for a while now. I’ve been busy with work,” she added defensively.
“Uh-huh.” Slinging his jacket over a chair, he stooped and stroked one of her two cats, then picked up the feline and cuddled it a moment, eliciting happy purrs. Linda felt an irrational flash of jealousy for the cat. Zane dropped onto the sofa, murmured something to the cat as he stroked it again, then let it twist out of his arms and escape in fickle felinity.
Linda came over and sat on the padded arm of the armchair she’d been in before he knocked. “So…why’d you come over?”
Again, he glanced at her, then looked at the television screen, which held the frozen image of a car travelling across the screen. Sorting through the snack bags on the coffee table, he found the remote and shut off the movie and the television.
Linda frowned at him. “I was in the middle of watching that!”
“I’ve got something else in mind for you to do, tonight.”
“Like what?” she asked suspiciously.
Leaning back, he stretched his arm across the low back of the sofa. “Like testing a few boundaries.”
Linda frowned at him, lost. “—Come again?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
Rolling her eyes, Linda let out a rough sigh. “God save me from old friends who’ve lost their minds. What the hell are you talking about, Zane?”
