The door wrenched open before we even knocked. Kate and her bionic ears must've been listening for the car.
I'd been schooling my guilty face all the way home.
Surprisingly, I had no trouble looking her in the eye. Neither did Michael. It made me question what sort of depraved people we were. I never realised how easy it was to fuck around on your friends.
She held the door open while we two betraying sinners waltzed past her in to the house.
"Jesus Sarah." I tried to spin around but she had the hem of my dress captured in her hand. "You've got a huge wet patch on the back of your skirt."
Michael kept right on walking – he maybe even sped up a little, gutless bastard – leaving me alone to face the music.
"Um, um..."
Could she smell him on me? Did she realise that the substance she was closely examining was her boyfriend's bodily fluids?
"You must have sat on something nasty."
Yeah, Michael's beautiful cock.
Swiftly coming down off my orgasm high I fell back to earth with a crash, feeling deeply ashamed, like a right bitch. Kate's angelic, unsuspecting face twisted my guilt as she studied me with concern.
"And what happened to your lip?"
Touching my cut where I'd bitten myself in the throes of passion, I looked at the floor, desperately wracking my brain.
"I can't remember," I lied, hoping my acting skills were adequate enough to fool her.
Suddenly she burst out laughing, shaking her head. "You're a mess. That dress is ruined. It's a good thing you don't get pissed too often."
Finally she let go of me, subject dropped, and my thundering heart returned to normal.
"Where's Jodie?" I asked.
"Crashed," Kate pointed towards Jodie's bedroom.
I couldn't say I was sorry. In a lot of ways what happened with Jodie was harder to deal with than what happened with Michael. It was natural to crave cock. Letting my girlfriend eat me out was an entirely different matter.
Knowing that I'd enjoyed it so much was a revelation to be thought about at length. In private. Possibly with toys involved.
The three of us made short work of the pizza, leaving one solitary piece for Jodie's breakfast. I was glad Kate didn't notice how silent Michael and I were. I felt increasingly worse, like a fraud sitting in her home posing as her friend.
"I suppose I'd better head off," I said, standing up anxious to leave.
"Do you have to?" Kate asked, sounding disappointed.
Avoiding Michael's eyes I admitted truthfully, "I've drunk more than enough for one evening. I'm bloody exhausted."
They saw me out and I tripped home, relieved to be alone, my head overloading on the wild events of the evening.
As soon as I stepped foot inside the door, I stripped out of my sodden panties, peeled my dress down over my hips and walked straight in to the shower.
My nipples were still peaked and tender but all in all, not as sticky as I would've expected considering they'd been coated in all manner of things – wine, salt, lemon, tequila. What a rush that was.
I lathered soap over my ass, slipping a finger down in to my crack to feel my little puckered hole. I'd never known what pleasure that part of me could bring until tonight. I couldn't wait to explore that notion further sometime in the near future.
My pussy was slightly swollen, my inner lips slick with my juices and Michael's cum was still doing a slow trickle out of me. Detaching the shower hose from the wall I aimed it upwards, in to me, spreading my lips apart with one hand, trying to wash away his presence as if that would make things better.
God, I didn't even like him. How had I forgotten that just for the sake of a quick fuck? In public nonetheless. Man, when I fully sobered up I was going to be sorry for a long, long time.
Yes, I admitted to myself, I was deliciously sore in all the right places. Yes, my body was humming. The only problem was the remorse eating away at my brain.
I swear I'd only been under the water for three minutes when my doorbell rang.
Shrugging in to a robe I sauntered to the front door. "Who is it?" I called. It was way past polite visiting hours.
"It's Kate."
I opened the door, surprised to find her on my doorstep all teary eyed. Uh-oh. I was going to kill Michael if he'd made a confession.
"What's up?" I asked warily, motioning her inside.
"Nothing," she denied, pacing in front of me in a blatant, definitely something, kind of way.
"What is it?" I pressed. "Where's Michael?"
"He fell asleep on the couch." She looked up at me in anguish and burst in to full blown sobs.
Part of me was glad he'd passed out. I couldn't stomach the thought of my friend receiving my sloppy seconds. Still, she was obviously disappointed. My heart turned over with sympathy and I stepped forward to give her a comforting hug.
"Come and sit down," I said gently, leading her over to the couch, my arm around her shoulders. She clung to me and cried in to my neck, tears trickling down the front of my robe, tracing a line between my cleavage and rolling down in to my belly button.
"Hey," I said softly, pushing her hair back from her face. "I'll get you a cold cloth."
"No," she shook her head, burrowing deeper in to the front of my robe.
I let her cry, holding her until her tears had run dry. I kept stroking her hair back from her forehead; it was wonderfully silky to touch.
I wondered briefly if the hair between her legs was just as soft.
I caught myself, reprimanded my filthy mind for travelling to such a dirty place, and reminded myself to focus on my friend. My sad, needy friend.
