Frieda Ph D

Author's note: Many thanks to StraightLaced for insightful editing help in this story. Make no mistake, resulting sentences were anything but StraightLaced at the end of the day - hope you enjoy. - Penning

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Why am I writing this? No matter. Just pen to paper. Okay. Here goes:

Our blooming-into-adults July playing is interrupted with magic moments when, at the drop of a hat, Cari or Darla will say, "let's get naked again." And we do.

How did we get so blatantly comfortable in our blossoming sexual skins in a small rural town where they still ban Lady Chatterley, Mollie, and Penthouse?

I get so used to unzipping my pants and pulling out my dick for some sneaky fun with the girls that on one hand it seems completely natural, but instead of getting desensitized to it, it only gets more exciting each time.

I used to worry that I would come to fast, or too often -- either because I didn't want to expend my orgasms, or because I wanted to be enough for both girls.

I learned to let that angst go and just give myself over to coming whenever it happens. If I come quickly, the girls just lose themselves in sucking it up, and they just shift and do each other, using my growing boy lube to fuel their girl making out.

The first time she does me with Darla watching, Cari draws me slowly into her mouth, showing her tongue as she goes down, inches from Darla's fascinated eyes.

Cari leaves spit along my dick when she comes up, pushes it back down the next time.

Soon I lube her sucking mouth with drops of warm-up cum and her full, vibrant lips glisten.

The smell rises with the summer outdoor warmth and permeates us, the cum and spit heat up on my dick and spread to excite our smell senses.

"Taste this," Cari offers Darla her tongue, thick with stuff.

Shy Darla ignores me lying right under her nose (because I'm like a guy and she doesn't want to make eye contact with me given what she is doing), and she takes Darla's offer of glistening tongue.

I see the magic as they melt together into what will become among their first of a lifetime of sweet, loving girly kisses.

We smell of worn parent-pilfered cologne, lake water, light sweat, and body play.

Cari is flushed and hot, her excitement is getting Darla that way.

Darla is all attention now watching Cari suck my dick with a dab of me splayed across her own lips.

"I can always tell when he's going to do it. I can feel it get really thick and hot," Cari says like I'm not even here, maybe still away in the football locker room. "His stuff gets thicker right before he does it...before it jumps straight up out of him. You'll see." She eagerly sets to work harder driven to prove what she just said.

Darla looks hard at my dick, listening, imagining, getting ready to become a woman, a woman in the naughtiest way, a woman who's done that thing.

When Cari slips off me, Darla leans in and kisses her, Cari welcomes her mouth. I am arousing like never before, mesmerized by my awareness that they are arousing incredibly now toward each other, using me as a stable, protective, trustworthy prop. These are two hot, uniquely and differingly (is that a word?) beautiful sexually vibrant girls high on their brave sexual adventure.

I feel myself leaking cum into Cari's mouth and see it coating her tongue and lips. Darla sees it too.

"How does it taste"? She leans eye-crossing close to see, catching the smell, feeling the age-old urge to reach out and engulf.

Cari holds her tongue for Darla to taste. Darla touches her tongue to the thick rich lube and runs her tongue through it for her very first time, searching for the taste.

"It's sort of salty and sweet at first," Cari says thoughtfully. "When he does the whole thing it changes a lot. It's -- it's, well, stronger. It's hard to describe. It took me a while to get used to it. It's strong, it tastes like...gosh, I don't know...just taste it."

She goes down deep on me again. Then comes up again for air. She works on me in silence for awhile.

"Watch me swallow it, Darla."

"Does it taste like, like...pee?" Darla asks, eyebrows furrowed in semi-feigned revulsion, with fascinated hesitation.

"No, not nasty like that. Just strong, like, I don't know, licorice, or salt water, like a mouthful of sea water. Wet, salty licorice maybe, something that burns a little and is salty. I want to do it now." She looks up at me. "Let it go now, baby. Do it in my mouth now."

I'm more than ready. I thrust a little more into her sucking, but still let her do her thing with her mouth, and now her hand.

A little longer and I feel it welling up. So does Cari.

She sucks and strokes harder and shifts her face to the side so Darla can see it happen.

I jerk hard and hurl my load upward and into her throat so hard that part is down her throat before she can swallow or open her mouth for Darla to see. When she does open her mouth, it gushes out over her tongue and slides in a white swirling mass over her lips.

She moves her hand quickly and catches it before it drops and brings it back to her mouth, still catching waves of my spunk, now able to swallow.

Darla is shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, my God. Holy fucking cow! I can't believe you are doing this. Oh, my fucking Gosh! I can't believe you are eating his stuff right out of his fucking cock!"

At first it's hard to tell if she's totally grossed out, but her face is flushed and she rocks to the rhythm of our orgasmic throes, her fingers pressing hard into her own crotch as she rocks and repeats over and over, "I can't believe you are doing this! Holy fucking shit."

Cari is licking me dry, smearing the residual wetness into her face and tits. She looks very pleased with what she just shared with Darla. A good bit of cum has gathered at the base of my dick, around my balls.

"Taste it, now." Cari's eyes flash as she dares Darla to get some of the hard, thick stuff.

All doubt about Darla's response to all this disappears and she lowers her mouth and gingerly dips her tongue into the thick puddled pool. She gets accustomed to it, and scoops up more with her fingers, rubbing into her lips, her eyes glazed and focused on tasting, her tongue savoring the nuances.

"You're right. Holy crap! You're so right! It's real strong, but so damn hot tasting. It tastes like raw...something wild." She revels and lingers in the experience. Cari and I lay back in our orgasmic meltdown and Cari frigs her cunt oblivious to anything but this buzz and her drive to explode her pussy.

Darla's eyes suddenly light up and she looks up and says, "Cari, I want to taste you. Can I... taste yours?"

Cari answers by reaching slowly and deliberately for Darla's face, twisting her cunt to reach Darla's mouth.

The loving tenderness of Darla's tongue sliding into Cari's exquisite pussy is nothing short of magic, a sight that will never fade from my memory, one of those rare things I can never describe with words.

As much girlfriend love as these girls shared in their years growing together up until now, they blossom into lifelong lovers right before my eyes.

Darla devours Cari's cunt. She licks her puckered orifices and sucks her until Cari is thrashing. Cari comes in torrents, emptying tons of her sweet girl cum into Darla's mouth.

Cari rolls Darla back onto her back on the heavy pickup bed blanket we threw on the grass and enjoys her first taste of Darla, getting her off beautifully.

"It's your turn, now," Cari says, "Well, I mean my turn to taste you. Lay back..."

WITHOUT WARNING

Pulsing lights and chimes explode all around me, and I leap several inches out of my chair, almost spilling my cold coffee all over Dr. Frieda's antique wooden desk. My pen tears like scissors across the pages I just wrote.

Two hours have elapsed since Frieda had me sit in this special room across the hall from her office, describing my first sexual encounters, free to embellish them as I was so moved.

I shake my head to clear these vivid images, not sure myself exactly what I really remember and what my imagination has added over the years. My dick is stone, thrusting my jeans straight up as a tent pole, soaking my front into a dark sticky mess. No hiding it now. Not feeling really so inclined. Wouldn't Dr. Frieda sort of expect this? Hmmm.

In any case, I imagine Frieda will know I did my homework. She'll read these pages over the week and be ready for our next therapy session on Friday.

My imagination about what she will do in her office with today's journal notes is fast becoming a fantasy chapter unto itself.

I hand her my notes, a little flushed with embarrassment, or the aftermath of my work, or both. Frieda glances down and reads the first couple of paragraphs and smiles a different kind of smile, more sparkle in the eye, certainly unable in her downward glance to avoid my moisture issue. Yes, her smile is warmer than I've felt.

It may be my imagination that her fingers linger a little longer than usual when she shakes my hand and says her standard spiel, "See you Friday, Pen -- can we, ummm, make it evening-ish this time, say 6:00 P.M. instead of that noon slot? Something's, uh, come up (Dr. Frieda never stutters) and I need to move you back, if that will work. Will that, ummm, (again, Frieda never stutters) mess up your weekend plans...?

Did she just blush. Did Frieda just fucking blush? I sure as hell must be red faced.

"Sure," I say, "No problem. Six."

What I am thinking is, sure I can get another fifteen pages out of Dr. Frieda's rescheduling glitch.

Frieda, Frieda, Frieda - my dear Doctor Frieda. You just read my next journal entry - we'll see how you like me then.