So That's What It Looks Like
I was hurrying back home from a major stress-relieving swim at the pool when I swerved to miss the indecisive orange striped cat in the road and hit the curb instead. The good news was that I didn't hit the cat. The bad news was that my late model hand-me-down car didn't do so well. I blew the right front tire and the rim was, as we say in the mechanical engineering technical lingo,
seriously ganked
.
"Oh, this is just fucking fabulous!" I swore and sat on the curb to think of what to do.
On the bright side, I had finished my sophomore fall semester finals earlier that day (hence the stress-relieving swim). On the dim side, I had wet hair and it was forty degrees outside and a two mile walk back home. On the bright side, I hadn't broken the axle. On the dim side, the Angel Gabriel was due at the house within the hour, and I had stuff to do before that happened. On an altogether different side, the orange striped cat limped over to me and showed me that it was not indecisive, but injured. The poor thing had already been hit.
"Fabulous."
*****
The "Angel Gabriel" was a long running inside joke with my gorgeous roommate, Angel, and her current boyfriend, who as I'm sure you're jumping ahead to, was named Gabriel. The two of them were planning to have a post exams romantic evening back at our duplex, and I had volunteered to be scarce so they could be alone until late that night. I was just going to go out to dinner and a movie, but now I had a busted car and a busted cat to contend with. The former loomed large in my list of immediate problems while the latter heaved itself onto my lap, snuggled up in my jacket, and proceeded to bleed on my jeans.
Gabriel was a good guy. He was as sweet as could be, and he treated Angel very well. I still thought she could do better, because as my partner Tess would say many years later of college guys, "Bless their pointy little heads. They're just not too bright." There wasn't anything wrong with Gabriel per se, but Angel's brain operated at a whole different level, and I wanted someone for her who could challenge her.
They had been dating since the end of summer semester (Angel and I both stayed in class year round, no summers off), and I could tell it wasn't going anywhere useful. Angel hadn't realized that yet, and at least she was having fun. She also reported that the sex was fun and easy. If you've read
Learning to Love Myself
, you know why that is different and important to note. They hadn't been at it very long, so they were still in the discovery phase. I had hoped to give them enough privacy to do some discovering that night, but I was afraid I'd have to call her and spoil it.
It was about that time that the policeman pulled up, and to make a long story short, we got the spare tire on the car together, and I took the cat to a local veterinarian immediately after that. How come I couldn't have just changed the tire by myself? Because it took the both of us with the busted cat cheering us on to get the rim un-wedged from the curb. Like I said, it was seriously ganked. Unfortunately so was one of the cat's back legs, but the vet said all it would take was a tiny steel pin, some pain killers, and some time to make
her
(as I found out) as good as new. In another stroke of good luck, they offered to do the fix up work on her for free as long as I agreed to adopt her afterward. I figured I could cross that bridge with Angel later, so I agreed. They would have to keep her for a couple days anyway.
*****
By the time I got back to our duplex, the hood of Gabriel's car was already very cold. He had probably been there for hours. I really didn't want to intrude on their good time, but I needed clean clothes if I was going to go back out. I had tire dirt and cat blood all over mine.
I thought maybe I could just slip in and slip back out quickly without being too much of an intrusion, so I silently unlocked the door and peeked in. It was quiet in the house and nobody was in the main room of our two room suite. Maybe they had decided to go out as well? Still, no point in delaying so I quickly breezed into the house (right past the wooden spoon on table) and almost made to the bedroom door before I was stopped short by a low grunt and Angel's voice hissing, "That's right baby."
Compelled by curiosity, I peeked around the doorjamb to see Angel lying on her bed, totally naked, tits up and legs spread, holding Gabriel's face against her pussy. Guided by that innate sense we all have to know when someone is looking at us, Angel opened her eyes and looked right at me. She started to say something, but I quickly put a finger to my lips and gave her a stern look. Gabriel was kneeling on the foot of her bed with his (rather nice if I do say so) ass up in the air facing me and his view of the rest of the world blocked by Angel's thighs. As long as he didn't look up, I wasn't really there. I stepped silently through the door and into the room with them.
Angel's eyes widened at my dirty, blood-stained clothes, and she quietly said, "
Que diabos?
" <What the hell?>
"Mmmmm!" said Gabriel into her pussy. He always loved it when she would speak Portuguese to him.
I quickly enacted an elaborate pantomime that communicated,
I'm okay. Long story. Clothes no big deal. I'll sneak into the closet. Get some clothes. Then back out the door. Don't say a fucking word.
Her bed was on the far side of the room, with my bed between them and me. The closest to them I would have to pass was about fifteen feet.
Angel nodded eyes still wide that I was in the room and in the process forgot to be responsive to Gabriel's ministrations. He started to pull back from her, but she pressed him back into her wetness with a husky, "Não, não pare!" <No, don't stop!>
I gave her the thumbs up and tiptoed toward the closet. I couldn't help but keep glancing at them as I did. You all know from
Learning to Love Myself
that Angel and I were sexually active and that we were sexually active with each other; however, we also had a standing monogamy agreement. If one of us was dating someone, all sex between us was stopped. My definition -- or perhaps more accurately our definition, since she helped me define it -- of bisexuality was "either, not both". We figured it was much less complicated that way. We'd already worked through the jealousy issues, and our agreement seemed to be working out. That's not to say that we were just back-up sex partners for each. I loved Angel, truly and deeply. That was true whether we were having sexual contact or not. If we were both unattached, we enjoyed sex as one further aspect of that. It's complicated, but we managed quite well, largely by not taking ourselves too seriously.
All that said, it was still kind of difficult to see her with another person's face buried in her pussy. I loved her pussy and had a strong sense of propriety about how it should be treated. I was not about to deny her any pleasure though, and it was admittedly fascinating to see this experience as a non-participant. I was getting that special tingle down below.
As I drew parallel to them, I was able to get more of a look at Gabriel's body. He was in fine shape and his cock, though not unusually large in any of its particular dimensions, was nicely shaped and positively throbbing. I raised my eyebrows, pointed at it, and gave Angel another thumbs up and an exaggerated wink. She almost giggled and then jerked her head toward the closet in the universal sign for "move your ass!"
I did just that and silently closed myself in the big walk-in closet. I shucked out of my dirty clothes and grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a sweater in the dark. I was just about to get re-dressed when I heard Angel orgasm -- loudly -- on Gabriel's face. Uh oh, I thought, and sure enough there followed the sounds of bodies moving.
I cracked the closet door slightly and peeked out. Gabriel, wasting no time, had moved up to straddle Angel's torso and pressed his erection between her massive tits. Shit! I was stuck now.
Angel had no choice but to play along (not that she was having a bad time, you understand), and squeezed her tits around him. She knew I was pinned in the closet because she chanced a furtive glance in my direction. When she spotted the slight opening in the door, she must have realized that I was watching for my chance to flee. I saw her lip curl mischievously.
"You want to fuck 'em, baby? You want to fuck my big soft tits?" she cajoled in response to his gentle thrusts.
"You know it, baby," he said. "Can I pump a little harder?"
"Uh huh!" she responded. "Rub my nipples while you do. Rub them while you fuck my tits."
There was a slightly manic edge to her voice, and I knew instantly -- she was performing for me. That wicked temptress knew I was stuck, and she was performing for me! Maybe she was trying to get him to cum quickly so they would change positions again and give me a chance to get out, but I was certain that she had ramped up the dirty talk for my voyeuristic benefit.
"Yeah!" Gabriel complied, and pressed his thumbs rhythmically onto her hard, brown nipples as he increased the length and strength of his thrusts.
"Ohhhhh," she breathed. "I love it when you do that. Fuck 'em, baby. Fuck my tits good with your hard cock. It makes my pussy so hot."
It was like bad porn, but it worked like a charm on Gabriel. He was soon thrusting firmly and diddling her nipples with equal intensity. I knew Angel was overdoing it for my benefit, but I also knew that she could at times climax from nipple stimulation alone. It really does make her pussy hot.
Of course, watching the show was making my pussy hot. What a dilemma: do I get dressed and wait for an opening to leave or do I forego dressing and minster to the opening I already had? I stood there undecided and moistening until Gabriel made up my mind for me.
"Whew, gotta stop for a second or I'm going to cum," he said and ceased pumping her slick cleavage. To his credit, he kept rubbing her nipples.
"That would be a bad thing?" she pouted.
"Oh no," he answered, "But I want to do more before I do."
"Like what?" she asked and jiggled her tits around his cock.
"Do it for real."
"Do what for real? Say it."
"Um... put it in you."
"You can do better than that," she said released her tits to take hold of his cock. It was shiny with pre-cum and pulsed in her hand.
"Angel, I feel stupid saying it dirty," he said reluctantly.
"Why?" she cooed. "Don't you talk about pussy with your friends? Don't you like it when I talk dirty to you?"
"Well... yeah."
"Then do it!" she commanded and pumped him slowly in her hand.
"I want to fuck you," he replied tentatively.
"Mmmmore," she teased.
"I want to put my cock in you," he said with a touch more confidence.
