We're friends and occasional lovers. Last Friday night, we went out and had a few drinks. Then, around midnight, we decided to prolong the evening more comfortably at his house. I'd been feeling pretty horny all week, so it was relatively clear in my mind how the night was going to finish up. But I'd decided not to let him in on my secret just yet, and he knew me well enough never to assume anything.
Back at his place, he poured me a whisky. We sat side by side on the sofa, our stockinged feet on the edge of the coffee table, discussing the evening as he rolled a spliff. The conversation lulled as he lit the joint and puffed and I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, watching the light reflect off its movement. Through the eddies in my scotch, I spied a shape on the coffee table that I hadn't really noticed before. As the liquid came to rest, I realised it was his laptop.
I slapped my hand down hard and suddenly on his upper thigh; I had an idea. And yes, I also wanted to infuse his near-crotch area with a little blood.
"Why don't we watch some porn?" I said, smiling a sly smile. His eyebrows rose as he blew out smoke. He hadn't been expecting that.
"Yeah. Why not?" he tried to reply off-handedly; but he wasn't fooling me.
"I mean, only if you want to. No obligation. If you'd rather I just went home..."
"All right! All right! Yes! I'd love to!" he said, tending towards the other extreme on the enthusiasm scale. He smiled lasciviously. "I'm getting hard already just fucking thinking about how amazingly slippery you got last time. I'm game! Okay?"
I was laughing wickedly into my whisky glass, but I knew he wasn't joking about his nascent erection. I could see his jeans beginning to bulge on the side he wore his cock. It made me want to touch it through the denim. But I thought I should wait a little longer.
I thumbed the catch on the computer, lifted the screen and pressed the power button. It whirred into life. He held out the joint to me as I sat back to wait for the laptop to fire up, but I refused as it only makes me go to sleep. A few minutes later, we had the browser window up and twenty little lewd photos tempting us from the screen.
"What do you fancy?" I asked. He held up his hands defensively, raising his eyebrows again.
"Mi casa es su casa -- whatever lights your fire, babe."
I chuckled as the tip of my index finger caressed the trackpad, causing the cursor to mouse-over the photos and give us a tantalising preview of the action. Nothing stood out as exceptional, so I typed 'homemade' in the search query box.
Real people getting it on always excites me more. I think it's something to do with the sounds. Real women don't keep repeating "oh yeah!" every five seconds, for a start. Plus, they look as if they're really enjoying it, however 'porn-star-like' they're trying to appear for the camera. And then, of course, real people have real bodies: tits that follow the laws of gravity and dicks you can relate to.
The new selection showed a mixture of semi-professional exhibitionist 'amateurs' and actual home movies. I think I'd like to make my own porn, though I've never got round to it, and I might even post it on the Internet, but I'm still always surprised at how brazen people are. I mean, they say you should be careful about posting photos of yourself drunk on your private Facebook page, so surely it's even dodgier uploading yourself being shagged across the conference table at work. Even if credits naming you don't roll at the end.
I quickly browsed the pics and pointed my arrow at one promising "girl on girl fun time". The sequence of stills showed two regular-looking girls working each other over with tongues and fingers, which was good enough for me and -- I knew from experience -- for him.
"A little lesbian love?" I asked, practically rhetorically. He nodded with a mellow look on his face and I clicked.
I sat back again, this time throwing my leg over his thigh. As the two women on screen began to kiss and run their hands up and down each other, his arm fell across my own thigh and his fingers lifted the hem of my jeans to gently caress my shin. The vague tickling registered somewhere in the back of my mind as I watched the blonde begin to work her lips and tongue down the brunette's neck and chest and round her nipples. The brown-haired girl seemed to have super-sensitive nipples, judging from the way she was moaning already. Maybe I was identifying with her, maybe I was so horny that it wasn't going to take much, but I felt my own nubs stand on end and start to push through the padding of my bra and the cotton of my shirt.
As the blonde woman worked her way lower over the reassuringly-rounded abdomen of her lover, my own lover's hand worked its way higher over the denim covering my lower leg, up to my knee and behind it. I smiled as I felt my pussy jump; recurrent lovers have their advantages.
The camera angle switched and we watched the blonde lapping at the brunette's vaginal lips, drawing them into her mouth, relishing. Her motions were assured, designed to arouse her partner not an audience, and there was no need for slurping and lip-smacking noises. The brunette's exclamations were muted, but we had no doubt she was loving it. It was extremely erotic and, as my lover's hand stroked the inside of my denim-clad thigh, my pelvis turned and slid towards him, almost of its own volition.
The brown-haired girl knelt between her lover's legs, and my own partner put the ashtray on the coffee table and raised my foot over his head to drop it behind his back. I lay back on the couch, lowering my glass to the floor, and he shifted his body to hover over me, not quite touching. I was torn between looking at the lust in his eyes in front of me and watching the brunette's technique to my right. Kneeling back on his heel, he began to unbutton my shirt, pausing to run his fingers over the exposed skin of my breasts jutting from my bra.
He was no longer looking me in the eyes and I stole a glance at the computer screen, in time to see the dark-haired woman circle her index round her lover's clitoris before trailing it between her inner labia and gently pushing it into the pink moistness of her cunt. My stomach muscles tensed and I turned to look back at my lover. He had just finished unbuttoning my shirt and seemed to be hesitating about whether to get my bra off or my trousers. I pushed myself up and grabbed the nape of his neck, shoving my tongue down his throat. He took the hint and his hands roamed over my back, locating my bra strap and deftly undoing the catch.
We pulled apart and I shrugged the shirt from my shoulders as he pulled his over his head. He was kind enough to help me remove the bra before leaning in to kiss me again and press his bare chest to mine, pushing me back once more. Breaking away, he mimicked the blonde woman's earlier ministrations, descending the length of my neck and sternum before finally coming to rest on my left nipple. My eyes flitted once more to the screen.
His tongue circled and flicked. His lips pressed and sucked. His teeth nibbled and teased. Her fingers danced and beckoned. My pussy convulsed and wept. As the fair-haired woman's moaning increased in pitch and tempo, the pressure built inside me.
"Babe! I have to pee!" I squealed in frustration. He looked at me and laughed before letting me up.
As I relieved my tension, the blonde relieved hers and my lover called to me: "You want to watch something else? Any preferences?"
"You choose. I trust you," I called back.
I came out of the bathroom, tossing my jeans and socks on the floor. I was pleased to see he'd also removed his while I'd been absent. Plonking myself on the sofa with my legs either side of him as before, I leaned forward to nuzzle his neck and fondle his cock through his underwear. Mmmmm. The fabric was gooey and wet. He turned his head to kiss me, clicking on a video at the same time.
"This one's a bit more vanilla," he said between kisses, "but I thought it looked hot," as he nipped my lip, "and anyway, I think you're going to be too busy to pay it much attention." He tilted his head to kiss me deeply. He was probably right.
