We snuggled together, Joni and I, having just had wonderful, warm and loving sex together after a week of my being on the road. It felt so good to hold her again, feel her body against mine, caress each other gently as we rested. She lay half on top of me, and partway down my body. Her leg was draped over me, her cunt pressed gently against my leg. Her hand oscillated between stroking my chest and playing with my cock and balls. Her head lay on my chest, her 36C boobs pressing against me as we chatted, and simply enjoyed each other.
We talked about my week and hers, sharing our experiences, talking through questions and issues that had arisen for each of us, her in her final year of university, me in a sales job that took me across a large territory each week.
At one point I commented that it would be nice when her good friend Jessie had a boyfriend to spend time with. Like Joni, Jessie was very attractive, and a lovely personality, the kind of girl I thought most guys would give their eye-teeth to get to know more fully. Yet while she had friends of both sexes, she never seemed to have a date.
Joni said "Ah, she's such a prude." She paused, then went on. "She's not, really, but she just doesn't let go. Frankly, I'd love to see her get fucked!"
This sudden explosion of expression surprised me. We had come a long way in the way we talked about sex, having both come from very conservative families where sex simply wasn't discussed. Ours had been a very tentative journey at first, barely allowing ourselves to use sexual language, both out of embarrassment and out of fear that we would lose the other if we did. Fortunately the latter hadn't happened, we had got over the former, and now we talked easily, used very graphic terminology very comfortably with each other.
I looked at her and grinned. "Now," I said, "there's a question. You say you would like to see her get fucked. Do you mean you want her to get fucked, or do you mean you want to SEE her get fucked?"
She slapped me lightly, laughed, and said "No, of course I'm not interested in seeing her get fucked. What do you think I am, a pervert? But I do think that her getting fucked would be the best thing that could happen to her."
"Okay," I said, "so how do you propose you're going to make that happen?"
"I haven't a clue" she said. "I doubt I could make it happen. But I still think it's a lovely thought!" She stroked my cock, noticed it was beginning to rise after its slumber. "And I think someone else thinks it's a lovely thought, too! Well, I think I'll just have to get your mind on other thoughts."
And with that she rolled herself completely onto me, pulled herself up until her nipples were at my mouth. I rolled them around my tongue, then sucked hungrily at her boobs before she reached down, raised my cock a bit, and slid herself down onto it. With that, she began to ride me, slowly at first, then harder and harder. She straightened, sat up, and began pounding herself down onto me, drawing my cock into her cunt further with every downward thrust. I began to respond in kind, holding her hips, and ramming my cock up into her. At one point I reached up, took hold of her boobs, squeezed her nipples between my fingers, and pulled. She moaned, her back arched, and she cried out as an orgasm tore through her. Her cunt spasmed, gripped my cock as in a vice, and in a moment I, too, exploded, filling her as I emptied myself.
We collapsed together again, satiated, and drifted off to sleep. The next morning, we awoke, showered together, dressed, then headed our separate ways until my return the next week. I was a happy man, and she a happy woman.
On the Thursday evening, I received a text message from her. "Get a good night's sleep. You're going to need to be rested when you get home." I sent a text back asking what was going on, but she didn't answer. Oh well, I'd find out soon enough.
When I arrived home the next evening, I walked into her apartment, to find her in her housecoat. She wrapped me in her arms, kissing me passionately. Her housecoat fell open revealing her beautiful naked body underneath. Before I had a chance to do more than drop my travel bag, she pushed me down on the carpeted floor, ripped off my clothes, and mounted me. She rode me, hard, panting and gasping, ramming herself down on me. I responded in kind, rolling her over and pounding her cunt. Her legs wrapped around me, opening, closing, gripping, heels kicking my arse, pushing me deeper into her. She was like a woman possessed, and it was wonderful! We ravished each other, holding, kissing, squeezing, fucking, fucking, fucking, until we exploded together, then collapsed, almost in tears from the exertion and emotion.
After a few quiet minutes, I said "Wow!"
"Uh huh," she said, then "Wow indeed."
I lay quietly for a moment, then "I loved it, but what brought that on?"
She was silent for a minute or so. Then she said "You know how you asked whether I wanted to get Jessie fucked, or whether I wanted to see her get fucked?"
I said "Yes, of course I remember. You slapped me and said you weren't a pervert."
"That's right" she said. "And you deserved it." She stopped again, then went on. "But you know, your question got me thinking about it. And I realized I really did want to SEE her get fucked! And the thought of it turned me on. And the more I thought about it, the more turned on I got. And that's when you walked in."
"Okay," I said. "Fair enough. And it was very nice. But as for watching Jessie get fucked... How? And why?" This didn't fit with the woman I knew. There wasn't a vindictive bone in her body, and yet here she was, wanting to watch her friend get fucked. What was going on?