"OK," I announced triumphantly from the other side of the screen door. "I caught them ju—"
"Gaw!" Jillian interrupted as I stepped out. "That thing ever go down?" She asked in snarky disbelief. Sitting on the ground between Bee's legs, resting against the sofa, she sat up sharply when I emerged, the subtle, refined contour of her torso leading to the sumptuous curve of her ass that flowed to her elegant legs, raised at the knee, which her breasts strove to hide themselves behind. Bee was languorously stroking Jillian's hair, her majestic breasts ebbing and flowing in motion with her arms.
"Um...no. Not really," I replied flatly, stopping in my tracks. I looked down at my enduring erection pointing confidently from my body, distended in husky hues of rose and violet beneath the milky patina of Bee's dried secretions. It bobbed gently in concert with my heart.
"But can you blame it? I'm hanging out with two dazzlingly beautiful women, whom I care very much about, none of us has a stitch of clothing on, and we've shared more things with each other in the past 48 hours than I could have possibly, wildly imagined. So, no...I don't think it's going to go down anytime soon." As if on cue, a bead of crystalline pre-cum plunged from the tip and splashed on my left thigh, sheered off-course by a soft desert breeze.
I sat on the edge of a low square table across from them. I chose there over next to them on the couch because I find trying to carry a conversations with someone next to me awkward, like a lone couple that sits adjacent in a four-person restaurant booth. But beyond being a more natural position for conversation, my motives were voyeuristic and exhibitionist: I wanted to see them, and I wanted them to see me.
Leaning forward, I widened my knees, brought my elbows to rest on my thighs, and clasped my hands. I looked at Bee, who looked deeply back at me, then I looked at Jillian, who was looking coolly but dauntlessly at my erection.
"As I was saying," I pressed on despite the palpable charge in the air, "they were just about to wrap up breakfast service, but I got us some. But as they're preparing for lunch, it's going to take them a bit." My cock lurched as it dispelled more pre-cum.
"About how long?" Jillian asked. She reclined between Bee's parted legs, her arms draped along her friend's thighs. She resumed stroking Jillian's long lustrous hair.
"I dunno. Maybe half hour or so," I replied. "Why? Hungry?"
"Yeah, but more important—I need an orgasm," she stated matter-of-factly. "Half an hour should give me enough time," she calculated, looking up at Bee. Bee nodded her head in agreement, gazing on her friend.
Jillian's audacity continued to catch me off guard. Ice shot through my veins. My cock tingled and quivered at the thought of what I may be privileged to witness.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting a serene "Mmmmm" hover in her throat. Bee shot me a warm, relaxed smile, then returned to her friend. I seized the opportunity to brazenly stare: With her head back, Jillian's body elongated, her dainty breasts hiking, her dark, succulent nipples pointing skyward. I followed the smooth contours of her ribs and abdomen, over her navel, to her mound and the thick, onyx fescue that covered it. The angle of her hips and her dense grove obscured her lips. But I stared intently regardless. My pulse quickened; my cock bloated to the point of discomfort.
Jillian reached up and wrapped her hands around Bee's head—just as Bee had done to me—and kissed her passionately. Bee's hands slithered over Jillian's shoulders and cupped her breasts, massaging them; her own generous breasts rested on her friend's shoulders. I'm certain Jillian could feel Bee's plump nipples nudging her skin. Lost in each other, I watched enthralled. My scrotum tightened, electrified; my cock vibrated in appetence, drooling its sparkling essence.
With a dancer's grace, Jillian rose fluidly and, without ever breaking her kiss with Bee, repositioned herself on the edge of the sofa between Bee's wide stretched legs. Bee's embrace shifted—her left arm crossed her colleague's abdomen, her right lay parallel just above, her hand coddling Jillian's left breast, her thumb and forefinger massaging and tugging her nipple. Jillian's face contorted under her friend's touch. Regaining composure, Jillian pulled down her left hand—her right continued to comb wantonly through Bee's hair—and pointed at me. Her kiss with Bee never suspended, she turned her wrist, her delicate finger now motioning "come hither." Her wrist twisted again; that lithe finger now pointed between her winsome thighs. My mouth went dry; I'm certain I blanched. She effortlessly lifted her legs and hooked them over Bee's as I slid off the table to my knees.
Her legs flared in the desert morning's extravagant sunlight, my eyes were treated to what, heretofore, only my taste, touch and smell were able to partake: Her fomented vulva was a luxurious fig, a deep ruby with a molasses ribbon edging her lips; her petite outer lips were a rich amaretto beneath her thick strands. I knelt before her, drawn to her heat. Unsure what she desired, I paused, lest a misstep ruin the majesty. I stared transfixed. My hands skimmed sensuously along Jillian's flexed inner thighs, my forearms caressing Bee's robust legs in the process. Still entwined with Bee, their jaws undulating in union, Jillian reached out. She ran her fingers through my hair, gripped the back of my head, and guided my mouth to her presented sex. I shivered. My erection felt turgid and thick deep within my groin as I rested on my heels. Sliding my hands under Bee's thighs, I leaned, filling my lungs with our friend's subtle yet nonetheless potent bouquet. I lighted tender little kisses atop her Mons, then on her glowing, parted lips. I drew her left petal into my mouth, caressing it with my tongue as my suction pulled it farther in. With gentle, determined care, I released it slowly. I shifted, and treated her right lip. The ladies continued to kiss as I looked up through Jillian's thicket. The tip of my extended tongue glided through the cleft between her right inner and outer lips. I traveled down, then up, until I slid alongside her clit. Her hips jolted. She broke her kiss. Grasping the sofa's edge, she looked down. "Whoaa—," she uttered breathlessly, shifting her hips slightly forward to engage my tongue further. I scaled her hood with my tongue and, coming down the other side, and explored the channel between her left labia majora and minora to the point where they join at the base of her entry. I retreated, paused, and advanced again, penetrating her with my tongue. My nose tickled by her hair, I again enjoyed her full flavor—delicate, herbal, savorous. She thrust her pelvis against my mouth. My tongue probed more; my upper lip ground against her clit. With her mound sealing my nose, I was forced to breath through my mouth. Inhaling drew fresh air across her enflamed, sodden lips, heightening her sensations.
"Huuuaaah!" Jillian caught her breath. "What are you doing?"
I chuckled, the sound waves reverberating in her womanhood.
"Oh my gosh, that feels amazing," she continued in a delirious, whispered moan, her nails digging into the back of my scalp. Her use of the word "gosh" tickled me: despite being completely naked and exposed, swaddled in the embrace of her equally naked good friend while a ravenously aroused man who, until two days ago, was effectively an acquaintance, feasts on her femininity, Jillian's Southern decorum bubbled to the surface in her use the genteel interjection "gosh." The amusement quickly transformed to abandoned desire. She enflamed me. I sought to devour her. I craved her nectar, her flavor, her body, her ecstasy. She grabbed my head and held me in place as she thrust her hips against me, redoubling the pressure of her pussy against my mouth. Her yearning was unmistakable. A "grrrrr" boiled in her throat.
Suddenly, she pushed my head back.
"Did you cum?" Jillian asked.
"Huh? Wha—?" I asked, muddled. "No. Why?"
"Do you think you're going to cum?" She asked, neglecting my question.
Despite the magic of seeing her, of tasting her, of experiencing her, my cloyed sexuality had short-circuited. Though my preternatural erection was steely, so was it was stoic; I feared another orgasm for me was some ways off.
