Carla 4

"Look, Carla, you have to come with me. Steve can't go and leave his cousin at home alone, since he invited the guy to come for a visit, and I can't go if I'm alone with them. You don't have to like him, just go. Please. Do it for me?

I knew Carla would not say no to me. She never said no to me, no matter what I asked of her. But there was a reason for it. She wouldn't say no because she couldn't stand the thought of me being with someone else. The relationship we had was that way.

The two of us had both turned 18 six months before. Carla was exactly seven days older than me, and always liked to remind me that she'd be the first one to reach legal drinking age, as if that made a difference for Carla. As young as we were, I don't think we really understood the dynamics of our relationship and what it meant for us then, or in our futures. We just knew that there was something short of actual electricity between us just by occupying the same room.

This was a time in our lives where labels didn't really exist. We were both small town girls trying to exist in a world that didn't quite seem right, and yet we really didn't know what it was that was wrong. It wasn't the two of us, we knew that. It was that the rest of the world was out of sync with us. Everyone who knew us knew we were practically inseparable, but no one knew the true extent of how close we were.

"Goddamnit, T. you know I can't say no when you ask like that. Besides, if I leave you alone, there's no telling what kind of trouble you'll get into." Giggling like the school girl I was, I thanked her, told her I loved her and to be at the house at 6:00 so that we could dress together.

She was prompt as always and already dressed to kill in a white pant suit that only served to accent her lush curves and flaming curls. As usual. She was bra-less, and her very dark pink nipples were not-so-subtle shadows beneath the white blouse she wore. I always envied the color of her nipples, how they teased through her blouses, daring you to stare at them.

She went straight to my closet, looking through it for just the "right" outfit, and I knew before she completed her search that it would be a dress or a skirt, and I was right. Black knit sweater material, skirt, matching sweater with three bright pink stripes across my breasts, nude stockings, black garter belt, dark pink panties and bra, black fuck-me pumps, earrings... Carla always liked that particular outfit. She said it made me look like a delicacy all wrapped up, waiting to be opened and slowly enjoyed. Even today, she has an effect on the clothes I choose, things that I know she would have chosen for me, not so much because I loved dressing up for her, but because she was always so good at choosing the most flattering things.

The guys were right on time. Steve introduced Henry to me and Carla and then we were on our merry way. Steve and I were in the front seat, Carla and Henry in the back, but I sat so that I could see her face and let her know I had not forgotten her. She was not happy about being in the company of this young man, but for me, she turned on the charm and within minutes this guy was like everyone else who ever met her, simply lost in her words, her actions, wanting to please her in hopes he'd get to see those nipples outside of that blouse before the night was over. That look of hunger was all over his face.

She and I just exchanged knowing glances with each other without saying a word. Carla was not the least bit interested in men. She dated from time to time, but always on a double date with me and whatever guy had captured my attention at the time. It was a double life that I led, not her. And she went down every path with me, dark or light, waiting for me to figure it all out. She certainly wasn't making things easy on me, but then it was never her intent to do so.

The plans for this evening were simple; dinner and a movie. We were all under the legal drinking age, so the choices were slim as to what we could do. Dinner at a local favorite restaurant was good. The conversation was nice, everything flowed wonderfully and as we left the restaurant, no one could seem to decide on a movie. Nothing was playing that any of us were overly excited about, and someone made the suggestion of simply going back to Steve's place and watching movies there or playing cards; something that wouldn't require two hours of sitting in a dark theater. Everyone agreed, so we piled into the car and made the drive to Steve's place.

Steve's parents had money. Lots of money, and Steve had his own apartment above the garage at his parents' house, so we were pretty much alone, the four of us, in this fairly nice sized apartment. Steve was like every other guy I ever dated, a passing fancy. This is what we were supposed to do, date boys. It was what was expected, and I, the good little girl I was supposed to be, did what was expected. He was a nice guy, but Carla knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell. Well, at least not with her around.

The layout of the apartment was such that the entire front half was living room and kitchen. A small hallway down the side nearest the living room took you to a large bedroom and a decent sized bathroom. The bathroom was between the bedroom and living room. We made ourselves at home as Steve and Henry took care of drinks and tried to decide which movie to watch, or what we would do.

Carla and I were seated together on the couch. She was leaning back, her legs crossed like a man, and me, as always, leaning forward, never able to just relax. Her fingers were toying with the ends of my long hair, which was always worn down, hanging nearly to my waist, because she insisted that it be that way. No words were spoken, just the electricity of her touch against my back sending the most wicked thoughts to my brain. I knew what she was thinking because of the way she touched me. Carla whispered something about trying to liven the party and I immediately shivered, not having a clue to what she was up to, but knowing her enough to know that I was going to be the one in trouble despite her earlier protest to accompany me to keep me out of trouble.

I stood and excused myself and headed for the bathroom to get away from her and give myself a chance to play a combat strategy, but that wasn't to be. I guess I should not have been surprised that Carla followed. As we entered the bathroom she shut the door behind us and locked it. I started to speak, but almost at once her mouth was on mine, her fingers tangled in my hair as she kissed me. I raised my hands to push her back, to protest, but I knew that would not work with her. It never did. It only made her more determined.

She groaned against my mouth as her hand slipped beneath my sweater, cupping my breast and toying with my nipple, and then the sweater was off, the bra unclasped and her mouth upon first one nipple, then the other, biting, licking and sucking. I could do nothing more than grasp her thick red hair and hold on, knowing where she was headed and wanting her to stop and not stop all at the same time. Her leg was between my thighs, her hips grinding against mine, pressing her thigh against my sex.

Over and over I groaned, "No, Carla", but my protests fell on deaf ears as her hands slid down and grasped my skirt, pulling it down around my feet. Her hand slid between my thighs, inside my panties and those slender, always cool fingertips grazed my clit. I knew we could probably be heard outside the bathroom. I knew they were wondering what was going on. I tried to remain quiet, to not make any noise, and as if she could read my mind, she sank her teeth into my nipple, forcing me to yelp in surprise. She laughed as her mouth moved to the other nipple and my legs parted farther when her fingers began sliding downward between already wet lips.

I knew these moments well. I knew her goal was for them to hear us. I whispered, "no no no I won't" even as her fingers slid inside me and she whispered "yes yes yes" against my nipple.

"Please, Carla, don't do this."

"Please, Carla, don't do this." She mimicked back at me as she bit at my stomach in tiny little bites, making a trail all the way down my stomach and around my panties. My fingers were tangled in her hair, and the harder I tried to pull her head away the more she bit at me, making me squeal in frustration and anger, and yes, in need. She stood straight, slid my panties down and pushed me back against the sink cabinet until my hips were resting on the edge. It was over. I was hers to do with as she pleased, but she knew that already, she always knew that.

My thighs parted wide. She went to her knees in front of me, two of her fingers once more inside me doing those nimble little finger wiggles that always drove me nuts, touching hot little places that left me trembling and weak. That first contact of mouth to clit was almost more than I could bear.

I was sucking my lower lip to keep from moaning, from making noises as two of her long, slender fingers probed, teased, sliding in and out of me while her mouth and tongue concentrated on my clit. I was writhing; my own pressure on my lower lip intense as I remained determined not to let them hear me.

But that wasn't what she wanted. She loved to hear me, and hear me she would. Her fingers now numbering three began to fuck in and out as hard as she could. Her teeth scraped over my clit, daring me not to cry out, and I barely whimpered. She sank her teeth into my clit, holding that tiny, sensitive nub between them, rolling it between them and I could stand it no more, screaming, "Please NO." That being the effect she was looking for she released her hold and once more began that slow, nerve wracking tongue flick that she had down to perfection. I could not have pushed her away had I wanted to. They could have ripped the door off the bathroom and I would not have moved. My entire being was focused on that mouth – HER mouth, and her hand. It didn't matter anymore that they might hear me as her fingers turned, her hand changed directions and now her thumb was probing at my ass while the rest of her fingers of that hand were inside me. She began to alternate fucking me, her finger in, thumb out, thumb in, fingers out, until I was writhing, pushing against her, not caring about anything but what she was doing to me.

I heard voices in the hallway, whispers "what are they doing"... "shhhh just listen!" My attempts to quiet my whimpers only made her sucking more intense, her fingers probe deeper, her intent more determined and I knew I was riding the edge.

She did too, as my hips suddenly grew still and my fingers tightened their grip in her long mane, now pulling her closer instead of trying to force her away. As wave after wave rushed through my body to my clit, to my cunt, soaking the hand that was trying to force its entire way inside my body I cursed her with every breath, every moan and she simply growled back at me in response as her mouth moved from clit to petals, determined to collect every drop of cum that had soaked he hand, my body, the cabinet beneath me.

When she was satisfied with my release, when she had taken me where she wanted me to go, she finally eased her torture, rising to stand between my still parted thighs. Her hand cupped my sex, softly caressing as her mouth sought mine, kissing me for the longest time, and then finally, helping me redress.

When we had "straightened" ourselves and I finally regained some control of my legs and knees, she took me by the hand and led me out of the bathroom and back into the living room where our dates waited.

They were sitting there, trying to pretend they were watching TV. As we walked into the room, Steve looked up, red-faced and said, "What was taking so long."

I was standing behind Carla, and he could not see my face, thankfully, as she responded with, "Do you have any popcorn?"