Mike stood over the toilet in Pete's apartment. His wet boxers were on the floor beside him. Pete's girl had soaked them with water. Was it an accident? It seemed... convenient. That whole episode seemed odd. How exactly had her shirt ended up so thoroughly drenched? He looked down at the stream of yellow piss, and suddenly he was picturing Fi's face under his cock. Had she smiled?
His dick was throbbing despite feelings of guilt. Was he really about to slip his dick into her mouth? It would have been easy. Pete wouldn't need to find out, would he? Not like they were best buds or anything. They went to college together, that was all. In fact, they didn't. Pete was his tutor, not his friend!
Fi was in Pete's bedroom, right across the hall. Mike, still holding his dick, considered just going into the bedroom and screwing her brains out. He was fucking horny as fuck. Pete would know, though. Wouldn't he? His houseguest, in his actual bed, fucking his actual girl. Fucking slut. His dick was still hard.
Another thought crossed his mind. He wasn't thinking about Melissa, anymore. In one fell stroke, Fi had replaced her in his fantasies. Shit.
Fi was in Pete's bedroom, naked, horny, but mostly worried. That hadn't gone to plan. She almost blew it! Blew him! If she had let herself go ahead and suck it, Mike would almost certainly have told Pete.
He hadn't, though. He'd lied to his buddy's face while his massive - and it really was a big one - cock was on his girlfriend's face. He had potential.
Still, though, if Fi just threw herself at him, he'd be sure to tell Pete. Mike had to be the one to make the first move. She had to make sure his cock was doing all the thinking.
How best to achieve that? How should she dress, how should she act? Slutty or frumpy? Slutty to keep Mike hard, or frumpy to make him think that it was all a crazy accident?
Or, she thought, should I just leave the bedroom door open and let him come in and take me on Pete's bed? Fuck, I'm so horny now!
In the mood she was in, there was no way she could play the frump. Slutty might be too obvious, though. Pete was still here, after all.
She didn't really have a lot of clothes here, anyway, so she couldn't dress all that sexy anyway. A loose fitting Fleetwood Mac t-shirt, even though she'd never seen the band, and a pair of daisy dukes were the order of the day. The t-shirt would let her tits move and give the impression of her nipples without showing them off. The daisy dukes were long enough that it wasn't obvious, but the crotch was torn and frayed enough that she could "accidentally" flash her pussy if she sat a certain way. In fact, there was barely a thread there at all. She intended to use that.
She threw the college football jersey back on and bundled the two garments under her arm and headed for the bathroom.
Mike was standing over the toilet, dick in both hands, rapidly jerking off. The picture of Fi with his cock on her face and a satisfied smirk was burned into his brain and he had to dislodge it before he did something that he might regret.
He hadn't had sex in weeks, which probably contributed to the way he was feeling. The breakup with Melissa had been the end of a relationship where sex wasn't really frequent or vigorous, so not only was he pent up, he was also frustrated.
Fi had awakened a list in him that he had forgotten existed. An animal craving, which he used to be able to satisfy with every college girl with a thing for big dicks. Even some female instructors.
It had been so long since he'd had any wild sex that just seeing the look in Fi's eyes was enough to make him jerk off in his buddy's bathroom, fantasising about her.
In his imagination, she was kneeling in front of him with her mouth open and a wet t-shirt that only covered her tits. He grabbed her by the ears and pulled her onto his dick, forcing it down her tight throat. Then he started fucking her face with those sticking out ears as hand holds. He was going to feed her so much cum...
Knock knock knock
"Mike? You gonna be much longer?" Shit, it was her. What was he gonna do?
"No," he tried not to sound breathless. "Just, ahh, coming."
Sure you are, she thought. You big horn dog, you. I wonder how much...
"Don't be too long," she called, hoping to disrupt him, "or I might wet myself."
Shit, shit, shit, he thought. He couldn't cum in here if she was coming in after him! She would smell it or something. Think about politics, think about politics.
His dick didn't soften much, but enough. He didn't have another clean pair of boxer shorts with him, so he supposed that he was going commando today.
He threw on a pair of jeans, carefully zipping them up so not to catch his still engorged tackle painfully. He had a plaid button up shirt on top.
When he opened the door, Fi was waiting. She didn't give him time to get out of the doorway before she slipped past him. She must have really had to go.
He closed the door and went to get a coffee. Pete had made a pot and mopped up the puddle on the floor. Once he had a cup full, he went back to the living room. It wasn't until he had sat down on the chair in the living room that he realised that Fi hadn't locked the bathroom door. Blood rushed to his manhood again. Did she want him to walk in? Should he? Would Pete catch on? Did he care?
He had just about convinced himself to fuck his buddy's girl in the bathroom, when she wafted into the room, smelling of perfume and looking like a vision. A t-shirt that her tits looked amazing in, and shorts that were as close to heaven as anyone could hope to get. He hoped no one noticed his jeans tenting.
Fi noticed immediately that Mike appreciated her choice of clothes. There was no hiding that pavilion tent in his pants, and the way he tensed up like a teenager boy was adorable. She loved the effect she was having on him. If he wasn't going to be gone soon, taking that schlong with him, the teasing could have gone on for a lot longer. It was fun, but that weighty meat was the goal. It had to be in her, and soon.
They talk about 'cougars'. Older women on the hunt for sex. Fi wasn't a cougar. For a start, she wasn't 'older'. More importantly, though, she was much better at it than those desperate housewives. She was a lioness. When she was on the hunt, nothing escaped her notice. Not her prey, not some other predator, nothing.
Pete was under the impression that he was being sneaky, but Fi had him scouted. He was sitting on the sofa, waiting for her to walk past. One of two things was going to happen. Either, he was going to give her a scare or...
He grabbed her, playfully, and pulled her down to his lap, kissing her neck and tickling her sides. Having predicted this move, she used the fake surprise to her advantage, pulling the t-shirt tight and flailing her legs, knowing that Mike might get a flash of pussy, or that her jiggling jugs would have him drooling.
Twisting, she returned Pete's kisses, adding tongue for good measure. The way she twisted left her legs apart enough that Mike could see pink skin under her shorts. A hint of pussy, perhaps, but he wasn't sure. Then she sat down on the sofa with Pete.
"So," Fi began, "how do you all feel this morning." She sounded cheerful, but everyone knew that this was some trap. They were all hungover, feeling awful, although Pete was mostly just tired. If anyone had bothered looking at the clock, they'd be shocked to find that it was almost 2 in the afternoon.
"Actually," Mike answered, scratching at his cock. Had she really just flashed him? "last night was cathartic. I think I needed it. Thanks, guys."
Fi leaned forward, making her tits fall forward in her t-shirt, and pulling the neck forward. Mike instinctively looked into her cleavage, until he felt her hand on his leg. He looked into her eyes, and she winked with the one he had covered earlier, squeezing his thigh a little.
