Just Like Me 1

I'm not trying to be quiet or anything as I unlock the door and let myself in. Why would I? Chris and I had been seeing each other a while before he even gave me a key, and we'd talked this morning - I'd planned to come over after work.

The only surprise is that I'd expected to be straggling in past midnight tonight. But everything somehow fell exactly into place all day at work and my team finished by a quarter to eight.

A late night, sure, but nothing like what we'd expected.

I pull off my shoes and close the door. Chris, who's heard me, calls out, "Oh, hey, you're here early."

I walk in. When I get to the living room, I see that Chris's best friend Dave is over, and Dave is holding the television remote.

But the TV's off. So they're just sitting there, as though they'd been staring at the blank screen.

"Um," I say.

Dave glances at Chris, opens his mouth as though to speak, then closes his mouth again without saying anything.

"We were, uh, just ... " Chris starts to say.

I laugh. "What, like, watching porn? Didn't want me to catch you?"

"Well, we ... " Chris starts to say, but I look at Dave and he's blushing. I laugh harder.

"Oh, man, I'm totally right."

"We just started!" Dave says.

I give him a quizzical look. Why would I care how

long

they'd watched?

"It's okay," I say. "You don't have to, like, hide it. It's okay to watch porn."

Chris shrugs, smiling at me sheepishly, so I walk over and kiss him. First on the forehead, then on the lips. "You look like you thought I'd be mad or something. I'm just surprised you turned it off." And I glance at Dave. "You don't have to be so embarrassed. I just finished work early. I guess you noticed."

"Yeah, um, Chris said he'd just be chilling alone basically all night."

"That's what we thought. But here I am."

"Well, we don't have to ... I mean, I can go ... or, like, you wanna see what's on Netflix, or ..." Despite my exhortation, Dave's clearly feeling flustered about his role in our little fiasco.

"Naw, guys, look, it's cool. You can watch whatever you were gonna watch, and I can go, like, read, maybe, or maybe make myself a snack, or maybe watch some with you."

"You watch ...?"

I shake my head. "Oh, Dave, yes. Women watch porn too. Maybe not the same things you like, but ..."

"Well, this one's ... um, it has a kind of stupid title, but its premise ... it's supposed to be set up like reality TV, where they're making it look like it's not all scripted, but, like, a bachelorette party ..."

"Oh, and then the music kicks in, everybody's all hot and bothered, the ladies start getting naked ..."

"No, no, it's ..." Dave laughs nervously. "There's strippers, but they're all guys, the women keep their clothes on, just drink and laugh or whatever. Well, mostly."

"Mostly."

"There

is

one woman who gets naked and has, like, full-on sex, at the end. I mean, it's clearly set up. But, still. They're, the directors were trying to make it look like a regular party."

"What'd you say it was called?"

"Um, it's kind of ..."

" 'Dick for the masses,' " Chris says, making air quotes.

I snort. "That's more than

kind of

stupid."

"Yeah, so we don't have to ..."

"Nah, if it's good enough that you two were going to watch it together, why wouldn't I want to see? Just, let me put on pajamas or something. I've been wearing this all day."

"You want us to ... do you want us to go back, like, to the beginning?"

"Oh, did I miss a lot of major plot points?"

Chris laughs this time. "No. No plot."

Dave protests, "Well, but, there's ..."

"Okay, okay. Dave told me I should see it, he thought I'd like it because one lady, the one who ... at the end ... well, he said it was pretty sexy, like, watching her. Since she knows what she's going to do, in advance. So ... well, you'll see. We'll skip back for you."

"Suit yourself," I say, heading back to the bedroom. I keep some pajamas and a few changes of clothes at Chris's place. Our relationship has settled into that comfortable zone where you trust that the other person is actually invested, that you're looking out for each other and both interested in keeping things going for the long-ish haul. So there's a toothbrush for me ... tampons ... spare clothes ... the whole shebang.

#

In Chris's bedroom, I close the door and look around. A guitar near the bed, a laptop computer on Chris's desk, a pair of gym shorts dangling from his laundry hamper. And his dresser. My stuff is in the bottom drawer. See, that's love: he cleared out a whole drawer for me! I have exercise clothes, work clothes, a vibrator. Two different pajama options. Well, only one, really - I don't want to sit and watch a porno in my work clothes, but, even though Dave's cute and all, I probably shouldn't change into my super-clingy, sheer pajamas. Chris and I bought them together at a little fetish and erotica shop that we visited last Valentine's day. My play clothes, if you will.

So, really, that leaves just my gray pajama bottoms, or else a pair of gym shorts. Nah, not my shorts. They're bright blue or fluorescent pink and both too skimpy for sitting around.

Gray it is!

I step out of my skirt, peel down my hose, and pull my pajama bottoms out of the dresser. Standing to put them on, I catch a glimpse of myself in Chris's mirror - and, yes, for a moment, I preen. I lift my chest, arching my back a little to make my shirt hang high, and smile at myself. I don't know if you do this, but I have a pair of "power undies." Not especially racy, just a pair of underwear that helps me feel confident all day, even if I don't think anybody's going to see them. Mine, these ones, are a cheeky cut, really flattering, I think, creamy white with black polka dots and some lacy trim. And a decorative little bow in the front.

I look

good

.

Until, of course, I pull on the gray pajama bottoms. Well. I still look okay. And these pants aren't

so

bad. Their fabric is thin enough that they hint at my curves.

For my top, I pick one of Chris's t-shirts. I like to wear them sometimes. You know, to have that faint scent of him around me. I unbutton my blouse and shuck it to the floor. I'll pile them in a moment - I don't like accidentally mixing my clothes with Chris's laundry, because he still just washes everything on hot and chucks it all into the dryer. Then wonders why his sweaters get wrecked. Gee, Chris, do you think ...?

I'm about to pull Chris's shirt over my head - light green, with the outline of a rhinoceros on it - when I catch another look at myself in the mirror. And I can't help but smile again. You know, even in sweatpants ...

I decide to unhook my bra and slip it off my shoulders.

Then

I put on the shirt. Because Dave deserves a little hospitality. As do I.

#

I saunter back to the couch, dropping myself between the guys. Dave has the remote and is about to switch the movie on when he turns to me and says, "The, um, the audio on this is pretty weak. Would it be okay if we kept the volume low, and maybe listened to some music?"

"Fine by me," I say. "You've seen it before, you're the expert. I'm happy to have you curate my experience."

"Actually, I was hoping we could collaborate. If you'd maybe wanna pick the music?"

"Ooh, teamwork! I'd be happy to!" So I link to Chris's speakers and queue up Nao's

For All We Know.

Quite appropriate for what we'll be watching, I bet.

Seriously,

For All We Know

is basically the sexiest record on Earth. After Chris and I looped it a few times while we were making out, I had to stop listening to it at work - even the opening riffs sent my heart rate through the roof.

So Nao starts crooning as the film opens on a room - a kinda high-school-cafeteria-looking room, honestly, but done up to look like a bachelorette party. Women are sitting at little tables, clapping, and a lot of them have drinks ... but they aren't really talking to each other, it looks like, and they're almost all facing toward the camera. The set-up is too clearly fake, and it'd be way hotter to imagine this was real. I mean, any porn is. The more you can lose yourself in the fantasy, the better.

That's why my favorites are the ones with actual couples. Chris and I have seen a few films together - like, we watched

Desert Stormy

kinda in the background during a party at a friend's house, back when Stormy Daniels was all over the news, and then we saw another of hers, this

Star Wars

thing, when we were by ourselves. The movie parts of them weren't so bad - they had some funny moments - but a lot of the sex scenes didn't do it for me. Most of the performers were physiologically enhanced, men with steroidal hypertension veins bulging from their muscle-bound arms and necks, women with pneumatic breasts.

We did like the performer Kaylani Lei, who was in both of those. She has an actual smile and an unmodified body. And, unless she has

incredible

acting chops, it seems like she gets some pleasure out of her roles. Both the talking parts and the naked parts.

But, this? Okay, so the stripper is ripped. And his clothes come off

super

fast. Actually, what with the camera lingering on this guy's body, Chris and Dave and I are spending a lot of time ogling his dick. It's a pretty good dick. Nice and smooth, a little long but not too thick. And, yup, soon a woman from the audience is sucking it, then he's licking whipped cream off another woman's breasts.

They're huge. This woman's breasts, I mean, this faux bachelorette attendee's. I wouldn't, like, feel inspired to eat whipped cream off her nipples, but, still, they're impressive. And real, which is nice. I find myself thinking,

this might be fun

. I like when porn shows real people's bodies.

Then another woman starts sucking whipped cream off the stripper's cock, and he prances while Miss Mighty Breasts laughs, and he moves along. Toward the wrong person, it seems.

"Uh," I say.

"What?"

"It's kind of a bummer that not everybody here is into it." Because the stripper guy has stopped in front of a woman wearing a blue cardigan, and, sure, he convinced her to run her hands up and down his chest, but she's not looking thrilled. Doesn't seem interested in touching him at all. And it seems like the dancing guy wants her to do more.

"Yeah, she doesn't have a bracelet," Dave says.

"Bracelet?"

"I assume that's how they worked things out, ahead of time. Like, some of the women are probably performers, some might be in it for the drinks, others, I dunno. But usually the ones who are game to play are wearing those plastic wristbands. So he must not have noticed that she didn't have one."

"Oh, bummer, yeah. Maybe he got fooled by her watch." Luckily, the guy moves on soon.

"Actually," I add, "I dunno if this guy is all that interested in women. Cause his penis isn't even very hard."

"Well, it's a big cock. And he's dancing."

"Chris stays hard when he's giving me a striptease," I say. The guy onscreen is licking whipped cream off another woman's wide, wide nipples. Yeah, it's definitely cool that these are real women's bodies.

And then she sucks his cock.

And then another woman does.

"I dunno," I say. "If I were at a bachelorette party, I feel like we'd want the stripper to spend more time nuzzled down between our thighs."

"You'd want a stripper to eat you out?" Chris asks.

"Wouldn't you want a blowjob, if you were at this kind of party?"

"Fair enough."

The guy pulls a redheaded woman's chair toward him and sits on the stage. Her freckled arm is nice - she looks really strong. And she's leaning back and laughing.

"Although, maybe ... well, I guess I don't know. Maybe the camera makes it different," I say. "Because it could be like a control thing. Everybody looks kind of silly when they come, or even when they're close, and if you're in a room full of cameras, and people you don't know well, it might feel safer to just have his dick in your mouth."

The guy continues dancing. The camera really lingers on his abs, and on his long, long waggling cock.

"But, if I were doing this for real, in a room with my friends, I'd totally wanna score some face before I'd give him head."

The guy perches in front of a woman in a multi-colored tank top. She's laughing and smiling as she tells him

no

. Bracelet-less, that one. But she playfully slaps his bottom as he walks away. So do a pair of unbraceletted women from the next table over. They give his cock a few tugs before he moves along.

"So you don't like giving blowjobs?" Dave asks.

"Ha," I say, patting his thigh. "Just because you like one thing more doesn't mean you can't like both. I mean, yeah, I'd rather get than give. But, Chris, do I give blowjobs?"

He blushes.

"Um, yes. I can honestly announce that you give great blowjobs. And that you really like when I give

you

head."

The woman next to the blonde lady looks a little bored ... and she looks kind of like me.

It's actually a little startling, when I see her. She takes off her glasses before leaning in to lick his cock. And, actually, once she has her glasses off, I realize that she looks a

lot

like me ...

Except for the excessive eye makeup. I grew out of that in high school.

"That woman ... " I begin to say.

"Ho ho," says Chris. Like a big, fake chuckle. "She's caught you, Dave."

"What?" I say. And then, "Ooooh. You brought this because she looks like

me

."

It's my turn to blush. After we'd just been talking about me giving blowjobs! The woman onscreen sensuously licks his tip, then, holding his penis, she takes the top into her mouth, until her own hand is pressed against her lips, and as she begins to bob her head, she unfurls her fingers to let him slide farther and farther into her mouth.

I feel myself getting wet. Which means, probably, that the guys can smell me getting wet.

But, whatever. I mean, I can tell when guys are turned on - Chris and Dave both have pretty clear bulges - so what's the big deal if they can sniff out how I feel?

"Dang," I say, in part just to get my mind off this train of thought, "again with the Ready Whip? This dude was getting a perfectly acceptable blowjob, but suddenly he's holding a can of whipped cream instead of letting himself enjoy it. Like, listen, buddy: nobody loves whipped cream that much. If she's doing it, it's because she wants to suck a cock. So why add the canned dessert?"

"Um, maybe," Chris says, "for people who are more goal oriented? Licking all the whipped cream off could feel like a defined task. Give you a clear signal when to start and stop, or ... oh. That was rhetorical."

"It was, sure, but I'm down with your answer. I hadn't thought of that."

A new guy appears, wearing a totally unnecessary sun hat indoors. This guy actually has a decent erection going. He looks really fit. And definitely knows how to angle his body for the camera.

"That woman," I say, when the redhead with the strong arms and big laughs is onscreen again, "I wouldn't have thought she was all that pretty, necessarily, but she's probably really fun in bed."

"You'd do her?" Chris asks.

"If she was here, would you say no?"

"Well, no, but ... "

"I mean, you're right. Can't look at a person and know what they'd order off the fooling-around-times menu. But if she were here, or we were there, and she was game ... "

Chris nods, smiling. "Really like getting eaten out, don't ya?"

"Duh," I say, stroking his chest, then turning to kiss him on the lips. When I look back, the woman who looks like me is there again, coyly smiling at the camera.

"Camera lingers on her a lot," I say.

"Well, she's the one," Chris says.

"What one?"

"The one who goes all the way, at the end. So she's sitting there, knowing."

Hat Man is feeling up her neighbor. And suddenly I find myself looking at this movie very differently. Like, yeah. Now that I know, I can't help but think about what's going through her head.

I feel myself getting wetter.

Hat Man is definitely interested in ladies.

And it's nice to see - the woman in the blue cardigan looks happier, now. She reaches out and pats an ass. Smiling. I bet most everybody prefers feeling in control. This lady just didn't want that first dancer dude all up in her business! Which seems reasonable to me.

When Hat Man visits the table of two women without bracelets, the ones who were doing all that ass-slapping earlier, both flash the camera. One reaches across the table to gently fondle her friend. And these two

do

look like friends, or like they've at least talked enough to feel friendly at this event, which I think proves my point about what directors ought to do to make their videos hotter. I can definitely think of a few of my friends, if we were at an event like this ...

Like, if we were goading each other on ...

The woman who looks like me gives a little smile to the camera. In front of all those people - and us, out here in the audience - she's going to fuck.

But that's not all that's going through my mind. Because every time the camera lingers on her face, showing her sucking a man's cock, I'm pretty sure Dave is thinking about

my

mouth. Chris too, obviously.

It does feel a little odd, watching somebody who looks this much like me, sitting here in a room with Chris's friend, as she takes penis after penis between her lips.

And each time she gives such a sultry smile when she's done.

"Wow," Dave says.

"So you ... " I start to ask.

"Don't say it," Chris says, laughing.

"So you like the look of her, eh?"

Dave answers, "Um, yeah,

obviously

she's hot."

"How long is this video?" I ask.

"I don't know, um, maybe an hour or so? We're probably halfway done."

And all of a sudden Hat Man is holding a woman upside down, sixty-nining her in the air, I assume. We can't see his mouth, only hers. Still, I clap.

"Finally, some tongue on clit."

The guys applaud with me. Then Hat Man puts her down, and we see a bright flash of her red underwear.

"It's funny," Chris says, "how there's all this nudity, but since the women are all still dressed, that little bit, that burst of red, suddenly seems super enticing. Like, really, really sexy."

"Mmmm," I murmur, agreeing. "But," I add, "I try to match."

"What?" Dave asks, carefully avoiding eye contact with me.

"My underwear, with my outfits. I mean, I know nobody's supposed to see, but I'll know, right? So I try to match. Whereas that red, with her yellow sweater ... " But suddenly I get distracted, because somebody in a big goofy bear costume saunters onto the stage. "Okay, what the fuck? That is like a pathetic school spirit week mascot. If they were trying to make this sexy ... "

"Not sexy?"

"This is registering somewhere near zero on my sexy scale, right now. Guy in the bear suit? Not doing it for me. And, yeah, mine matched. I mean, not anymore, because I changed, but earlier."

"You changed your underwear?"

"No, dude, my clothes! Although I can see where you're going with this. And, look, it's whatever. You should ask, if you want."

"Ask what?" Dave says. Still carefully staring at the screen.

"I mean, when you came over here today, were the two of you really planning to just, like, sit here all staid and shit, and just

watch

this? Dave and Chris, prim and proper, watching this lady who looks like me. You don't have, like, the impulse to, like ..."

"Like what?"

"Get yourself off, doofus!"

"In front of Chris?"

"You're here watching

all

these other guys flaunt their cocks! You think it'd be a big deal to see another?"