Some Day All This Will Be Yours

Author's note:

I know, I know! I've been neglecting you, and I'm

really

sorry.

Mea culpa.

To make it up, this one's just for

you

. (You know who you are).

***

There you are! Found me at last, and not a moment too soon. I've been waiting here for you to make out with, you know. Alone, tonight? Me too. Shall we have some fun together? Okay, why don't we dump the euphemisms? What I

really

mean to say is:

Wanna fuck?

I hope you're up for it, if you know what I mean. If not, maybe you should read something else first, and I'll just hang about here waiting and hoping.

You

are

a guy, aren't you? Bet you are, but if I'm wrong, you can just grab a strap-on and pretend - okay, honey? I've got one if you need one. Tonight, I want to be fucked, or laid, or screwed, or rogered, or... Well, you get the point!

We're alone; no distractions, 'cos tonight I'm focusing completely on you. I'm wearing skin-tight blue jeans and a white T-shirt, no bra: the sexiest costume known to man, IMHO. Panties? Wait and see! How about you?

And we've already got beyond that awkward stage where neither one of us is entirely sure that sex is around the corner...

You know that situation? You've decided that

you'd

be up for it so long as the other person doesn't suddenly turn out to be a raving lunatic (Fill in your own disqualifiers here). But you need to go carefully, because there's nothing worse than waking up beside someone next morning and thinking:

'God! Who the hell is

this

? What got

into

me last night?'

(Unfortunate choice of words there, maybe.)

'Have I

no

self-respect?'

Honey, if you didn't have any the night before, you certainly don't now!

Anyway, it seems that you and I are pretty well suited: no major obstacles between us as far as I can tell, so would you take me to bed, please? I can see you there, lying on my big bed, waiting patiently for me to come over and join you in front of my favorite bedside mirror. Well, if you want me to come, you know what to do, don't you? Just whistle!

'You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?'

Because I certainly know how to come!

Hey! That's given me an idea: how about a story before bed? You know I

love

telling stories. I'll just lie here beside you with my head on your chest. No, don't be shy; you can put your arm around me if you'd like to. Pull out my T-shirt and slide your hand in, why don't you? Here, I'll loosen my jeans so you can stroke my naked hip a little. How's that? Feels great to me! Are you lying comfortably? Then I'll begin:

It was in the fall of my senior year in college - just after the summer of

Adonis and Aphrodite

- and in an attempt to keep my student loan smaller than the National Debt, I'd taken a part-time work-study job in a biochemistry lab on campus. (

Biochemistry?

Me?

Well, they had the money, you see, and beggars can't be choosers.)

Anyway, there were these two post-doctoral students in the lab where I was working who were an item, you know? Matt was a Brit, and Karyn was Australian. They'd been together for a year or more, and in fact they're married now; we've kept in touch.

They were collaborating on a big series of genetic engineering experiments: trying to develop a strain of grass that could fix nitrogen. When I first heard about it I thought

'Grass, as in pot? What a brilliant idea! Think of the yield!'

But no; for some reason, there wasn't any funding for that project. We were working with the stuff that cows eat, though I never fully understood why

they

should care.

I

thought it should be easy. Apparently, all the heavy lifting - the actual chemistry of turning nitrogen into ammonia, which the plant can use for growing 'n' stuff - is done by soil bacteria that like to shack up with the plant, the sluts. Who knew? All

we

had to do was to persuade the grass to grow little nodule thingies on its roots to keep the bacteria comfortable. Easy-peasy, right?

Wrong!

It turns out that the roots and the bacteria need to

talk

to one another - chemically speaking - like in a relationship:

'You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours'

. And you know how difficult it can be to get a relationship right... Right?

Anyway, the point is, we spent a lot of time together - Karyn, Matt, and I - struggling to get this affair working, rather like a team of marriage guidance counsellors. (And there was me thinking that biochemistry was going to be dry and boring!) We were together in the lab at all hours of the day and night. Research does that to you, you know.

Eventually, Spring Break rolled around and - let me tell you - I was

ready

! I'd never felt so exhausted in my entire life, and I was planning to sleep for the whole week. But Karyn and Matt had rented a cottage at the beach, and - to my surprise - they invited me to join them.

I figured I could sleep there just as well as anywhere else, and the alternative was a deserted dorm with no food, which didn't have much appeal, so along I went.

We drove to the beach together. At least... they drove, while I slept in the back seat. And that's when it all began. I had this amazing erotic dream: I was in the lab - of

course

- working at the bench, completely focused on my experiment. You really need to concentrate when you're at the bench, you know; otherwise you invariably screw things up, particularly when you don't really know what you're doing. (

What?

I was a Liberal Arts major, for crying out loud!)

Suddenly, these two arms encircled me from behind and clasped my breasts. For some reason, I wasn't scared. I leant my head back and turned it sideways to meet the lips of the person standing behind me. We joined in the most exquisite kiss, which sent shockwaves of desire coursing through my body. Why is dream sex always so breathtaking?

I knew I fancied Matt; he was funny, up-beat, and looked like a cross between the Grant boys - Cary and Hugh - only taller. Plus, he was just a fun person to be around; still is, for that matter. So, in my dream I happily melted back into his arms, or so I thought.

But as our kiss became deeper and more passionate, I gradually realized that it wasn't Matt I was kissing; it was Karyn! Or maybe it started out as Matt but then somehow morphed into Karyn - you know what dreams are like. Whichever, the full realization burst on me like a bombshell.

I had never admitted to myself that I found her attractive too. In fact, this was the first time in my life that I'd

ever

had feelings like that for another girl (except for my dear sweet aunt, of course, but that was different... and it still is). I'd had a few boyfriends, most of whom were more interested in getting into my panties than into my head. You know what teenage boys are like: testosterone on a stick, most of them, and wanting it sucked!

I'd fooled around, of course, and done most of the usual things, up to and including - wait for it! -

'full penetrative vaginal intromission'

. Don't you just love that phrase? I found it in some government report on the sexual practices of American adolescents. Someone should tell the government that the English language has a word for that: it's called

'fucking'

!

And if it didn't exactly light my fire - and, frankly, it didn't - I put that down to not having yet found the right guy. But in my dream, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe it was because I hadn't yet found the right

gender

!

You know how mind-blowing dream sex can be, if you're lucky? Well, this was one of those occasions. As I awoke, I gradually became aware of three things: one, that I'd just had

the

most intense orgasm, and my panties were soaked; two, that in my sleep I'd been moaning in that unmistakable way that we girls do when we come; and three, that Karyn was saying to Matt:

'I think I'll have some of what

she's

having!'

I looked at her, smiling back at me from the passenger seat, and realized with a shock that I wanted her fiercely. I longed to feel her hands roaming all over my naked breasts, and her tongue between the lips of my vulva, just as it had been seconds before, in my dream. And I wanted desperately to give her the same pleasure that, without knowing it, she had just given me.

But dreams are only dreams, and I had no idea if she felt the same, or how Matt would feel about it if she did. So, I just bit my tongue, blushed, and returned her smile.

We found the cottage - right on a deserted stretch of beach - and settled in before going for a walk along the sand just as the sun was setting. Later that evening, as I lay in bed listening to them making love in the next room, I masturbated to a fantasy of the three of us together.

Well, next morning I slept late - what luxury! - until I was woken by their shouts from down by the shoreline.

'Come on, lazybones! Move your ass! Come and join us; it's lovely!'

'Be right there!'

I stripped off the T-shirt I'd been sleeping in, grabbed my bikini and slipped it on as I made my way down to join them. By then they were way out beyond the breakers, their heads bobbing above the waves that were gently rolling in to shore.

I splashed my way out to the calmer water and swam alongside them for a while. Suddenly Karyn said:

'I think we should tell her, Matt; don't you?'

'Tell me what?'

'What, and spoil the fun? I want to see her face when she realizes.'

'Tell me

what

?'

'That's no fair! I know how embarrassed

I'd

feel in her shoes.'

'Tell me WHAT?

'All right, then; if you insist...'

'Tell me

WHAT

?'

'Honey, Matt and I are skinny-dipping... I hope that doesn't offend you.'

'Really?'

'Yes, look!'

She sprang upwards out of the water, briefly exposing her beautiful naked breasts above the waves. My heart lurched in response, as I fought to keep my equally naked hunger from showing across my face - and it wasn't breakfast I was hungry for!

'We furriners don't have quite the same hang-ups about nudity that you Yanks do.'

'Comes from being descended from the Puritans, I guess.'

'Well, if it offends you, we'll let you get back to the cottage before we expose ourselves. Right, honey?'

'Spoilsport...'

said Matt, grinning at me.

My mind was racing. I finally admitted to myself that I was simply desperate to have sex with these lovely people, and hadn't they just offered me the perfect opening? I heard myself saying:

''S not a problem; I'm not a prude. If you're comfortable, I'm comfortable.'

'See, Matt? I

told

you she'd be okay with it!'

However, a few minutes later, when we all emerged from the water onto the deserted beach, I was faced with a dilemma: what should I do now? Walk beside my two naked friends with all my naughty bits completely covered, like the prude that I claimed not to be? Or bite the bullet and join them in their glorious display of full-frontal, open-air nudity?

Choosing solidarity, I threw caution (and modesty) to the winds, and peeled off my top, feeling their eyes glued to my naked breasts. And then - with my heart in my mouth - I slid my bikini bottom down over my... er, my bottom. I stood before them in the morning sunlight, naked as a jaybird, feeling exposed, vulnerable, daring, and... aroused, definitely aroused. If I'd been a man, my prick would have been pointing at the sky!

The memory of a delicious afternoon spent naked on a river-bank in France flashed through my mind. Hmm... This outdoor nudity was getting to be a habit.

Karyn and Matt made no attempt to hide their joint scrutiny of my naked body, as I stood there with my nipples as hard as berries.

'Well,'

I thought.

'Three can play at that game!'

and returned the compliment by feasting my eyes on them both. Fresh from the cold water, Matt's circumcised penis was limp and hanging down between his long legs, and his hairy scrotum had contracted to snuggle his balls up against the warmth of his body. But the rest of him made my heterosexual heart throb.

'You should see him when he's...'

'Now who's embarrassing whom?'

he said.

'Sorry, honey!'

She winked at me and I blushed again.

For her part, Karyn looked mouthwateringly lovely to my hungry eyes. Do you know the painter Andrew Wyeth - his paintings, I mean? For me, they balance right on the knife-edge between art and erotica, you know? Well, Karyn looked just like Siri, the model in Wyeth's painting

'The Virgin'

,

although I knew she wasn't - a virgin, that is. Long strawberry blonde hair, perfect breasts (just like mine), and a body that simply shouted its

reality

; you know what I mean? No airbrushed centerfold, but the sort of girl you might meet walking down the street, always assuming she was walking down the street stark naked, of course.

'Pretty woman, walking down the street...'

As I looked her over, she picked a piece of seaweed out of her hair, and draped it over one of her hard, pink nipples, saying with a smile:

'I'm still a little shy.'

The inadequate covering made her even more desirable.

My dream in the car flooded back into my mind in glorious technicolor, with all its searing feelings further enhanced by the reality of this moment. I looked at her, smiling at me with wet hair plastered to her neck, a narrow strip of seaweed lying across one breast, and little pearls of seawater running down her belly and dripping from her pussy, and I quietly whimpered to myself.

Pretending that she didn't hear me (bless her!), she slipped an arm around my waist and together we walked back up the beach to the cottage, our naked hips rubbing against one another, with Matt bringing up the rear. I felt my tush blush under his gaze.

In the cottage, Karyn said:

'I'm for a shower! Who wants to join me?'

She headed for the bathroom, leaving Matt and me together, still naked, and looking at one another speculatively. Our eyes met and I noticed his prick begin to swell.

'She's your girl, Matt. This is all going a bit fast for me.'

'Okay. Later, maybe? I think she fancies you. And she's not the only one... Here's hoping!'

'Oh!'

He smiled at me, and I blushed, for about the umpteenth time.

'Well, maybe. We'll see...'

I slipped on a toweling robe and prepared breakfast for the three of us, savoring the memory of his hardening penis and thinking over what he'd just said. I tried in vain to ignore the unmistakable noises coming from the bathroom. After a while, Karyn came to the breakfast table wrapped like I was, looking flushed and happy.

'God, that man can't half fuck! He took me right there in the shower, and he only stopped when the hot water ran out!'

'Did you wear him out?'

'Worried, are you?'

'What do you mean?'

'Oh honey, don't pretend you don't want a piece of the action! I've seen the way you look at him.'

'But he's yours!'

'Well, I'm not

giving

him to you, if that's what you think. This would be more like a sharecroppers' agreement, you know? Fifty-fifty? Frankly, I could do with some help ploughing his furrow. Tonight, maybe?'

'Tonight what?'

asked Matt, joining us.

'Oh, there you are. Come and have some of this delicious breakfast that our lovely colleague has prepared for us.'

'Tonight

what

?'

'We were just discussing the ethics of sharecropping agreements in rural America...'

'No you weren't. Tonight

what

?'

'Fuck it! None of your beeswax! Just wait and see! All right?'

Well, we spent the day lazing around the cottage: alternately swimming, laughing, sleeping, eating, then swimming again, before it was time to do some more sleeping; one of those really full days that never seem to have quite enough hours in them.

We'd worn our swimsuits all day, so as not to over-excite the occasional strangers who came walking along the beach, but somehow that made me even hornier, just like that strip of seaweed that Karyn had draped across her nipple. By the end of the day, I was simply

dying

to see them both naked again.

Towards evening we found time to squeeze a little drinking into our busy schedule. We held one of those amateur wine tastings that just provide an excuse to open rather more bottles than absolutely necessary; and once the bottles are open, it's a shame to let them go to waste.

So, I don't remember all that much about dinner, which we ate by candle-light as the evening darkened around us. But everything afterwards is crystal-clear in my memory. Matt had taken a late swim and was wearing his bathrobe, whereas Karyn and I had on the T-shirts we both liked to sleep in, over panties. Out of the blue, Karyn asked me:

'Honey, you're not a virgin, or a lesbian, or anything, are you?'

'Well, I hope I'm something, but... No; I'm no longer a virgin, and I'm not a lesbian. Why do you ask?'

'You want to tell her, Matt... or shall I?'

'It's better coming from you.'

'Matt here told me that he wants to... er... to fuck you, if you're up for that. He seems to think he's got enough for both of us!'

'

Oh!

And how do

you

feel about that?'

'A bit jealous, to tell you the truth.'

'I quite understand... It's okay. It's really between the two of you.'

'I don't think you

do

understand. It's not

him

I'm jealous of; it's

you

!

I'm jealous because

I

want to have sex with you, too. I told him he may have to wait his turn.'

'I don't

believe

this! That dream I had in the car on the way down here? I was having sex with you, and it was quite the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced.'

'Oh, honey;

really?

How lovely!'

she said, a smile lighting her face and her eyes glistening in the candle-light.

'But how do

you

feel about it, Matt?'

I asked him.

'If you'd let me lie beside you both and watch, it would be my number one fantasy, coming to life.'

'You can call the plays if you like, honey,'

said Karyn.

'Send them in from the sideline? How would that be?'

'As in

'Simon Says'

? O

kay!

Simon Studly says:

"Let's all go into our bedroom, taking one of these bottles of wine with us."

'Being a modest sort of a chap, Simon then says:

"We'd better close the curtains so no one can peek in and see what we're up to."

'And then Simon says:

"If you two girls were to lie down on the bed and begin to undress one another, totally ignoring me lying here beside you with my robe falling open, I wouldn't be offended."'

'Lift your hips, honey,'

said Karyn.

'I want to slip your cute panties down over your even cuter ass... And will you do mine?'

'Simon, a little breathlessly, says:

"Two gorgeous girls wearing nothing but matching white T-shirts that don't quite reach down to their furry blonde pussies, lying beside me and about to kiss for the first time... Pinch me! I think I've died and gone to heaven!"'

Using identical gestures, Karyn and I pushed a few wayward wisps of hair back from our faces, smiled into one another's eyes, and gently touched lips. The emotions of my dream washed over me again, and I felt a warm glow start to smolder between my legs. I parted my lips to let the tip of her tongue into my mouth, where it sought, found, and mated with mine. I closed my eyes, relaxed into our kiss... and time stood still.