Our Dinner Ch 02

Chapter 1 was published a couple months ago. I'm not sure exactly what motivated me to write about the topic, but once I started, that little story just popped out. I wasn't sure how it would be received, but I got some positive feedback and thought to continue it. This is the result.

I had to work more at this one. It didn't just pop out. I wanted more depth to it, almost a literary feel to it. Not sure how well I achieved those goals. I got stuck numerous times. I had to let it sit for days or weeks while the story marinated. What would Angie or Betty do in this situation? What can they do that would make sense? Again, not sure how well I handled answers to those questions.

But now, here we are. This is a F-F relationship story with lots of sex (I think only the Uber driver is male; sorry buddy, no sex for you). Part of their experience together is pee and scat play so if you're not into that, then you should look for another story. If this is your type of kink, or could be, I hope you enjoy the story. And of course, all characters are over the age of eighteen.

*******

Six years ago, I started a new job as a help desk technician assisting other employees with their IT problems. Betty had joined the company almost two years before me and had now been assigned as my new employee buddy. I've heard other people say this work buddy thing was stupid and useless, passing along questionable horror stories about never seeing their buddy after the orientation, but Betty was born to the job. Most people lost touch with their "buddy" within a month, if they ever talked at all, but Betty and I hit it off. She had the perfect personality for being a buddy, whether assigned the role as part of her job or if you happened to develop a friendship with her. She was infectious.

As fate would have it, we had little opportunity to grow much closer. Within six months after I started with the company, she was promoted to supervisor of the help desk. We didn't have as much time to talk, and with her now being my manager, we didn't think it was appropriate to go out together for a drink or whatever. We'd go to social functions as part of the overall group and we'd interact there, but again, her position gave us both pause in terms of how close our relationship could really be. Eventually, a year or so later, I was able to move up into a junior system administrator role after getting my certifications, but that move took me out of the help desk group so we were really in different orbits then. My job kept me mostly in my cubicle down by the data center and she was up on the third floor at the opposite end of the building. I hardly ever saw her anymore.

Time passed, and we both pursued our careers and lived our lives. At one point, a couple years later, I realized I hadn't seen her for several months, and I heard through the grapevine that she had left the company. At first I was like, "Oh," and kept on working, but as the day wore on and I thought about her more, I realized how it hurt me.

I didn't blame her. It wasn't that she shouldn't have left for a better opportunity, but I should have stayed in closer touch with her. I should have sent a text at least. An email even. I remembered the laughs we had together and how much I enjoyed just being around her at work. I was so wrapped up in my work, I hadn't spent much time dwelling on our relationship as we drifted apart.

But that day when I found out she was gone, I grew to feel like I had lost a friend, and I wondered if she considered me a friend or if she even thought of me at all. I found myself on the verge of tears a couple times that afternoon. I promised myself I'd text her as soon as I could.

A: "Hey guess who. It's your buddy!"

B: "Angie! It's great to hear from you. I've been wanting to reach out"

A: "Well now I have. How R U?"

B: "I'm great! How are you? I really want to see you again

A: "That's what I was gonna say"

B: "Perfect! Let's get dinner. We can catch up on everything"

A: "Yes! Have you eaten at Understated? Want to go Friday?"

B: "I have my niece's softball game but I can go after. How's 9:00?"

A: "See you then"

B: "xxx ooo"

Since it was a Wednesday, I only had to wait two days to see her again. I couldn't believe how excited I was. It was so easy to talk to her again and the texts couldn't have gone any better. I didn't have any expectations for this dinner "date." We were just two old friends reconnecting--if I could call her that. I still didn't know what to call our relationship, but she sure sounded excited in her text. She said she wanted to see me again. She even sent kisses and hugs at the end. I didn't want to read too much into the texts, but I was looking forward to seeing her again.

Since this wasn't a real date, I wore some jeans, a white lacy sleeveless crop top I had just picked up the previous weekend, and my black flats. I put on a dainty gold chain and gold hoop earrings and wore a black headband to keep my shoulder-length red hair out of my face. I'm not very big, petite actually, at just 5'2" and around a hundred and ten pounds, so my A (almost B!) cup breasts didn't need a bra. I looked in the mirror on the way out to my ride and thought I looked just right for dinner with a friend.

Arriving at the restaurant, I looked around anxiously to try to find Betty, but I didn't see her, so I waited on the sidewalk for a couple of minutes before she arrived. When she did get there, I was surprised at the nervousness in my tummy. I had known I was excited about seeing her again in a happy-to-see-an-old-friend kind of way. But when she arrived I started wondering if I wore the right thing or looked good enough. I hadn't realized before then that her opinion mattered so much to me. Betty walked up and gave me a long hug. She was soft and warm and smelled amazing.

"You look gorgeous," she said in my ear as we hugged. "I've missed you so much."

Betty was a little taller than me, probably 5'5" and 130 pounds or so. Her breasts were not overly large and her waist was not particularly well defined, but her face was perfect. She seemed to be perpetually happy and smiling. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, but that smile was what set her apart to me.

"Thanks," I responded. "I've missed you, too."

She took a step back, holding my hands and looking me up and down. "Oh my gosh, you look so amazing. Sex-yyy!" She stretched it out and laughed, and we stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Well, uh, thank you," I stammered, overcome with feelings of validation, I guess, or something that made me feel good. Not a surprise with Betty. "Should we go in or just stare at each other all night?"

"I could stare at you all night, but I'm hungry too. Let's get some food for now and figure out the rest later."

And that's how our evening went. She complimented me at every turn, and I just tried to keep up, mentally and emotionally. She was so upbeat and happy--almost hyperactive or fluttery--I couldn't help but feel great about being with her. Back when we worked together, I never saw any hint that she used drugs (except alcohol, which we consumed plenty of that night), so I didn't think she was high. In fact, her behavior and attitude and expressions, everything about her, were very much in line with my past experience with her...except now she really seemed to be into me. I didn't mind; I was more than just flattered. My body was reacting in exactly the way it was made to do when aroused. And I don't know what happened that she was so into me, but it was a change from before, and I don't know why.

Of course, the biggest left turn in our relationship was when she got into the bathroom stall with me, right there at the restaurant, and somehow convinced me that playing with my own fresh shit was a good idea. I'll admit, Betty's compliments, random touching, looking deeply into my eyes, and just making me feel wanted and good overall (plus...the alcohol!) absolutely had an effect on me, and that effect was horniness. I still get damp just thinking about our dinner and the evening's entertainment. I'll never forget it because it was a turning point not only for our relationship, but also for my sex life. Things would never be the same after that night.

*******

So, I told you about our dinner and how it all unfolded that night in my previous story. I've learned since then that we both had at least a mild interest in scat play before that dinner. I never really expected I would get involved in it or even experience it at all. I mean, how does that even happen? Even if two people are interested in it, how do you approach that in the course of a conversation or even while engaged in sex together? Yet somehow, that night it happened, my first experience with real, live scat play, and I'm not sure it would have happened the way it did if not for all the stuff that I just described.

By the time we left the restaurant, we only needed one Uber. We both understood that our relationship had changed. And "changed" is not even the right word. We started out as long-lost not-even-sure-we-were-friends and ended the night as lovers and scat buddies. But to pick up the story again...

The ride back to Betty's home that night was mostly quiet and uneventful, though her hands continuously played over my thighs--rubbing, squeezing, dragging her fingernails across them. Again, I could barely keep up. I tried to touch her too, but I was constantly distracted, afraid of what the driver would think, and often unintentionally blocked by her hands on me. We didn't speak. We barely even looked at each other. But neither did we kiss or engage in any outright making out. I guess we still had an ounce of self-control in front of the driver. My heart was pounding by the time we got to her house and my panties were wet. Betty handled the Uber and we went inside.

Her ranch-style house was dark except for a porch light and a three-way lamp on its lowest setting in the front room. She didn't bother turning on any other lights, and she didn't offer me a drink. She simply took my hand, almost like a continuation from when we left the restaurant and walked me through her darkened house to a bedroom. We had both had a lot to drink that night and had less than an hour to sober up so far. I didn't give any thought at the time to how much of the night was a result of that demon alcohol taking control and how much was Betty's plan. I was just going along, riding the wave, happy not thinking about not thinking.

Once in the bedroom, Betty turned and planted her mouth on mine. Our tongues swirled together, no hesitation, every few seconds trying to one-up each other by going deeper, sucking harder, drooling more. There was no thought of decorum or appearances here in private, only a long, long kiss that slowly degenerated into a lustful swapping of spit. Locked together at the lips, we shuffled toward the queen-sized bed. We didn't stop when we hit it. We just climbed up and fell over as one and continued. Every so often we'd roll over so she was on top or I was on top or we were side by side. I don't know how long we kissed. It seemed like an hour--a week maybe--and we just kept going.

Our mixed saliva ran down our cheeks and onto the bedding. Enough rolled down our chins and necks to wet our tops. My vagina was dripping now or would have been had I not still had my clothes on. But my panties were drenched to the point where they'd hold no more moisture so my jeans had to hold the spillover. My pussy had never been as wet as it was that night, probably due to rubbing and humping myself on Betty's thighs between my legs, and I could not stop kissing her.

After a time, Betty was on top of me with her knees straddling my hips and grinding her crotch into me while we continued kissing. She edged up onto my stomach and put her elbows on the bed on either side of my head. Not for the first time that night, I extended my tongue and licked down her chin, down her neck, and up her cheek.

We rolled over again and now I was on top. I don't know what got into me as I had never thought about doing this, but I snaked my hands up under her V-neck shirt. She inhaled sharply in anticipation of me feeling her breasts, I think, but instead I went slightly wider and began massaging Betty's armpits while I continued to lick her face. No kidding. I was taken to another world. Her damp, sweaty armpits became the center of my universe.

I rubbed and massaged under both of her arms, and her shirt gradually slid up my arms toward my hands. I stopped rubbing for a moment and eased the shirt over her head, leaving it stretched between her arms at the elbows, holding her arms outstretched over her head. I don't know what Betty's experience with pit play was, or maybe it was the pseudo-bondage aspect, but she moaned and pushed her hips up into me. I could feel her shaking, whether from fear, excitement, or an orgasm, I don't know, but I didn't stop. In fact, I squeezed her underarms harder and didn't stop playing.

Deep down in the unevolved part of my mind, the unusual, fetishistic, taboo nature of this--and all that had happened and would happen that night--spoke to something deep inside me. I don't remember much other than what we did, but I do remember thinking at some point, "I am such a dirty pervert right now."

After a minute or two of playing in there, I moved my face away from her face and down to her armpit. The smell was gorgeous, an ephemeral mix of fading baby powder deodorant and body odor, and I couldn't get enough. I swirled my tongue around under her arm cleaning up all of her sweat. At one point, I spit and pressed my lips into it then spread my saliva-covered mouth around her armpit. It wasn't long before both her pit and my face were covered in my spit.

I continued licking and licked down her rib cage and back up again. She giggled and flinched.

"You're tickling me, you little pit-lover."

So, of course, I didn't stop. I did it some more, lightly lapping her side with my tongue, stopping every inch or two to draw random patterns with my tongue as pen and saliva as ink.

"Let me taste your fingers." Her whispered command had an air of desperation to it.

I put my hand up to her mouth. Her tongue did a preliminary dance pushing between my fingers before she sucked one finger, then two, then three into her mouth. The suction combined with the silky slithering of her tongue kept my pussy wet too.

"Oh, fuck, that feels nice," I moaned.

She licked and sucked my fingers for a few minutes and it wasn't long before her spit covered my hand and rolled down my arm.

Betty grabbed the hem of my crop top and pulled it up over my head, but she went right back and did not let up sucking on my fingers. Then she pinched my nipples, hard. They were already so fucking stiff. I don't think they had softened since we were in the toilet at the restaurant. She grabbed one each between her thumbs and the knuckles of her fingers.

"Ahhhh, fuck!" I screamed. "That fucking hurts, holy shit!" I jerked my hand out of her mouth and grabbed hers to stop her pinching.

She looked me dead in the eyes. "Yeah, but you love it, don't you? I know you do."

How did she know that about me? I mean, I wasn't a raging pain slut or anything, but I loved her yanking on my little titties just then. It was fucking awesome. Just like at the restaurant earlier. We hadn't said one word about shit play--not one word about sex at all--yet she knew she could convince me to open that stall door and let her in to indulge what I think had been a long-time fantasy of hers.

"Mmm, fuck yes. I like a little nasty play like that."

She grinned at me. "Oh, I know you like a little nasty play."

"Clearly, I'm not the only one. In fact, I have a nasty cunt you might find tasty right about now." Betty's grin slowly faded as she grew serious.

"I've dreamed of tasting your nasty cunt."

I stood up to remove my jeans. My crotch, of course, was saturated. I pulled down my jeans and panties, pressed my hand down on the bare skin above my pussy, and pulled up to stretch out my slit and expose my lips. Before I rejoined Betty on the bed, I rubbed my hand over my pussy lips, making sure they were easily available for her to suck on. I continued to rub my hardened clit as I climbed back onto the bed.

"Shit, girl, you are the juiciest. Look at those fat pussy lips! They're calling out to me."

Not the first time someone had commented on my pussy lips. While most of me was small and petite, my cunt lips were thick and long.

"Well, I hope you like them because I'm going to put them in your mouth so you can lick and suck all the juices you want."

"Get up here," she said.

I kneeled on the bed and swung my leg over her head so my cunt was now dripping on her face. Or it would have been had she not grabbed my thighs and pulled me down onto her mouth and started licking.

"Mmmmmm," she hummed into my swamp-like twat.

She took her time. She sucked my pussy lips into her mouth and pulled back, stretching them several inches until they slipped out from between her lips. She quickly sucked them back in again and repeated the lustful act several times. She finally kept them in her hot little mouth and flicked her tongue across them before she ran her tongue from the bottom of my lips up to my clit then pressed and licked my swollen love button, and she repeated that a few times too. Her tongue probed deeper with each pass.

I tried to play it cool as I sat there on her pretty face, but there was just no way. At first, I leaned forward slightly and latched onto her hair to help maintain my balance, but as she sucked harder on my labia and licked deeper into my pussy, I leaned back and put my hands on her body. She still had her pants on and her tits were still encased in her bra. I grabbed her tits and squeezed, eliciting a deep, appreciative moan into my cunt. Her humming was exquisite on my clit, and I moved my hands inside her bra and pinched her nipples--just a little payback.

Almost immediately, I regretted my petty act of revenge because she bit my pussy lips! I mean, she didn't break the skin or anything, but it was clearly a bite and she was clearly chewing on my lips. Which, okay, felt good at the same time it hurt, but really?

"Fuck! You bitch! What the hell?" She let go.

"What?" she asked, all innocent like. "You said yourself you liked it when it hurt."

I looked down at her eyes peeking up between my thighs, and I just could not stay mad at her. Her mouth and cheeks were coated in my pussy juices, and she had just a hint of a nasty grin on her face.

"You're a fucking agitator, aren't you?"

"Who, me?" and she batted her eyelashes at me!

"Yes, you. And you're too cute for your own good." I slid my crotch down her chest and leaned over to kiss her some more. I ran my tongue in a circle around her lips, tasting my own cum. I sucked her tongue into my mouth once more and started rubbing my wet pussy back and forth on her stomach. She was well-covered in my pussy juice by the time we stopped kissing.

"Let's get you naked," I suggested.

It didn't take her long to remove her remaining clothes, and we kissed again for a while before she tossed me onto the bed on my back. She crawled to me and swung her leg over my face with her face toward my feet and lowered her pussy to my mouth. I shoved my waiting tongue into her steamy pussy, licking her gash to extract all of her cream. I kept going, licking and sucking, and before long she lay down on top of me, assuming the sixty-nine position. Her tongue found my pussy, and we carried on licking each other's twat. I don't know how long it was, but eventually she turned her head away from my pussy and had a suggestion for me.

"Why don't you put a finger in my ass while you're doing that?" I was only too happy to oblige her. I wondered when we were going to get to that part after our little play time in the restaurant restroom. And as it turned out, I loved anal play. I knew women who were only into vaginal sex or maybe allowing a little anal play but not giving any. It wasn't unexpected but still a relief to have Betty initiate it this night.