"Is this a dildo?" asked Clara, holding the smooth, stainless steel tube tentatively by the base.
"Better," Shawnee replied. "A vibrator. Haven't you seen one before?"
Clara shook her head, her shoulder length reddish blonde hair flicking lightly over the high cheekbones flushed red by embarrassment. She was sleeping overnight at her best friend's home, so they could get up early and get tickets for the Ulthar Cats' concert.
Shawnee's parents were out of town, trying to figure if her grandmother's recent nude trip around the supermarket meant it was time to put her in a home. Resultantly, dinner had been a vegetable pizza, Shawnee having been a strict vegetarian since she had seen "Super Size This" two weeks before. They had ordered from the local parlour.
"You've got to see the delivery guy, Clara, he's so hot," Shawnee had told her. When the doorbell rang, she had added, "watch this," and undid the top four buttons of the blouse stretched tautly across her chest. Shawnee had enormous breasts, huge round orbs that pressed ripely against whatever she wore. Her skin was the colour of milky coffee, a shade darker than caramel, and she had long, straight dark hair. Thin dark eyebrows perched exquisitely above her rich brown eyes. Her lips were a scarlet movie star pout.
"Hi," she panted to the delivery guy. He looked about a year or two older than them, maybe twenty. His body was soaked in muscle that rippled with his every move, cold blue denim clinging to the large muscles of thigh and calve and cupping an impressive bulge at the crotch. Shawnee bent over, ostensibly to place the pizza on the table by the door while she paid him but really to give him a show. He obliged, staring deep into the fleshy, dark crevasse between her two stunning breasts. Shawnee looked up and smiled when she caught him looking, running her long pink tongue over her bright red lips. As Clara watched, that large bulge in the jeans twitched. Shawnee said, "thank you," then closed the door with a swish of her ample hips.
"He's going to jerk off in the van, I bet," said Shawnee laughing.
They ate the pizza and watched DVDs, ignoring the films to talk about the rumoured immense endowment of the Ulthar Cats' front man and, of course, lesser boys. Hesitantly, they both admitted they were still virgins, though Shawnee had given one guy a blowjob.
"What was it like?"
"It was great," Shawnee replied, "like nothing I'd tasted before. It was sort of incredibly hard, yet there was a softness, too. It was about as long as my index finger, though much thicker. It had this big purple head. I took it all into my mouth and sucked on it for about a minute and then he came. All this sticky white stuff, it tasted salty."
Then they had gone up to Shawnee's room and when Clara had gone looking for a night-shirt, this long tube had fallen out onto the floor.
"Have you used it?" Clara asked.
"Yes," said Shawnee, "though only on my pussy lips and over my clit. I've never stuck it deep inside me."
"Will you show me?"
Slowly, not sure whether to do it or not until it was done, Shawnee lifted up the oversized T-shirt she slept in. It slid up over her dusky thighs and brushed lightly against her moist bush. Clara looked on, feeling her own pussy get wet like it did when she lay in bed and thought about some of the boys on the football team. Shawnee's pussy was so different from hers, thick rubbery olive lips drooping out from a sparse tangle of coarse, tufty black hair. As the T-shirt continued up, Shawnee's breasts were tugged up momentarily from the motion of the fabric. They bounced down and spilled out of the T-shirt, completely spherical with huge coppery aureolae. Shawnee stood nude before her best friend, aggressively defensive, one hand curled over but not concealing her mons.
"Show me," was all that Clara said and handed her the vibrator.
Shawnee twisted the base and a low buzz suffused the room. She rubbed it over her breasts and placed it under her arms. "Have to warm it, a bit," she said. Once more, she brought the vibrator to her magnificent breasts, running it around those large nipples, which quickly swelled into sharp points. She trailed it down her body, running it over her flat stomach and down into her bush. Her pussy was soaking, tiny beads of liquid heat falling to the carpet. Shawnee placed no more than an inch of the vibrator inside her, then slowly ran it around her cunt. She began to moan, almost reluctantly at first, but then louder and louder. Her legs buckled and she flopped back on the bed, still desperately running the toy around her labia. It sent liquid flying from her cunt in a spray that dashed against Clara's still clothed legs, and she found herself touching the hot liquid to her lips. It tasted sweet and perfumed, like her own.
Shawnee lightly touched the vibrator to the thick dark bud blossoming in the centre of her and came, screaming. The vibrator fell from her numbed hand and danced about on the floor as Shawnee lay paralysed on the bed, flushed and panting from perfect pleasure.
Clara had never been so aroused, not when she touched herself late at night, not in the car when she felt some boy's thing pressing against her thigh. The liquid arousal in her cunt had completely soaked through her panties and formed dark stains on the front of her trousers.
"Do me," she begged.
Shawnee countered, "Show me."
With fingers numb and thick, Clara obliged. She slipped the shoulder straps of her top down her slender arms, and tugged the top over her shoulders. Her skin was porcelain white, her breasts – perhaps half the size of Shawnee's – pale rich swells capped with chubby pink buds of nipples. She slipped off the jeans and the sodden panties with her back to Shawnee, displaying a fine, rounded ass, then turned to reveal the delicate curves of her pussy lips below a natural triangle of soft red hair, now damply shining.
"Lie on the bed," Shawnee demanded.
Clara did and Shawnee retrieved the vibrator from the floor, crawling up the bed. She paused as her lips neared Clara's pussy and sniffed. Clara's cunt smelled of fruit, of pomegranate and mango, and Shawnee instinctively lapped out with her long tongue, licking Clara's succulent pussy, spreading saliva around her lips and fluttering at her clitoris. Clara moaned loudly and Shawnee thanked god her parents were away. She continued her journey up Clara's body, pausing only to briefly nip one nipple with her teeth. At last, she lay a top her teenage lover, their breasts squashed together, the juice in their pussies mingling. Shawnee kissed Clara's pouting pink lips as her dark hand caressed the pale skin below Clara's bush, revelling in the sweet hot moisture. She sucked on Clara's nipples as she brought the vibrator against her pussy. Clara came immediately, silently, the only sign of her incredible pleasure the vice grip of her hands on Shawnee's neck.
They slept nude on the bed, sticky limbs entwined, their pussies grazing against each other in the fevered dreams of the night. In the morning, Shawnee woke to find Clara gone. A note perched guiltily on the bedside table.
Shawnee
, it read,
what we did last night was wrong. I'm sorry but I can't see you again. I'm going to have my father transfer yours to a different corporate office, with a promotion of course. I'm sure you'll understand. Clara Barrington.
"Bitch," screamed Shawnee to no one in particular. Michael Barrington, Clara's father, was head of Barrington Industries, a business colossus that he had raised himself from a garage based software company. When she and Clara had become friends at a corporate event, her father had been pleased, though she imagined he would never credit just how she would improve his career.
Clara stood in the queue for maybe an hour to get her ticket. Halfway along a bum squatted, as dilapidated as the building he leaned against. She opened her purse and he got a look at more than ten fifty-dollar bills. Then she opened her change purse and gave him a dime. Sure she could have got the ticket immediately from one of her daddy's media contacts but that would be missing the point. Momentarily, she felt guilty about her treatment of Shawnee, but then she realised that with the move Shawnee's family would have more money. Clara remembered Shawnee saying how much she liked New York – she'd have her daddy move them their. All it would take were the right words - ever since Mom had died, daddy did whatever she wanted just to make her happy. Daddy thought Shawnee's dad should move up anyway, he just hadn't wanted to deprive his daughter of her friend.
Once she bought the ticket - the squat tattooed woman who sold it to her laughing secretly at her - she clutched it like the Holy Grail.
The night of the concert, her father drove her to the stadium in one of his less ostentatious cars. He dropped her at the gate, kissed her good-bye and told her he'd pick her up in a few hours, then drove off. Once his car had disappeared, Clara went behind one of the parked buses and tore off the modest blouse she was wearing.
(Unknown to her, a porcine bus driver too doused in caffeine to sleep spilled his drink in surprise and masturbated furiously as this heaven sent nymph undressed beside his coach.)
Underneath the blouse she wore a low cut top that clung to her beautiful breasts like skin. Likewise she took off her jeans to reveal a tiny skirt bunched up around her waist, making it obvious that she wore no panties.
(At this point the bus driver came, mottled white fluid gushing out of his cock. He caught it in his coffee cup. An hour later, forgetting, he accidentally took a big swig, then spent the rest of the concert vomiting on the spot where the exquisite teenager had stripped.)
The opening act was all right. Nothing special but they did a couple of good covers, their own material being utterly dire. Then the Ulthar Cats came on, and from the first chord to the last falling echo of Den Buck's powerful voice, Clara was in rapture. Her pussy as wet as last night when Shawnee had... but no, she shouldn't think of that; her nipples making large spikes in her tiny red top; her eyes filled only by Den and thoughts of Den. As he sang, she imagined his lips on hers, his cock filling her cunt as they slowly made love on a four poster bed. In dreams she toured the world with him, as he fucked her every night to endless orgasm.
She had been dancing up front, fruitlessly trying to get him to notice her, so she was working her way out when the guy approached her. He was scruffy, smothered in thick brown hair and wearing a bruised leather jacket to match. He was short, much shorter than her and skeleton thin.
