Sometimes an image is so stunning that it never manages to lose its potency, no matter how many times you see it. I looked down between my thighs and thought I'll never forget this view--how lucky am I?--moved to ecstasy by the familiar scene below: Alyssa's face nestled between my legs, cum glistening on her cheeks and around her mouth, her long ponytail wrapped in my closed fist as I held her head to my cunt. She was working on my fourth orgasm of the night by then, her fat ass rippling residually from each impact of her face against my pussy as I ground it against it her. Oh, that ripple. That ripple alone was enough to push me over the edge and I convulsed as I came.
We both caught our breath and she tried to wipe my juices from her cheeks with the back of her wrist. I snatched her wrist from her lips.
"Not yet. Up, girl."
She climbed eagerly from her knees on the floor and up onto the bed, across my lap. I kneaded the considerable dough of her ass, parting the cheeks enough to see her hole.
"Count them for me, bimbo."
I brought my hand down on her left ass cheek and the whole bottom jiggled. The fucking jiggle.
"One; thank you, Miss Erin. Two; thank you, Miss Erin."
"All these lessons have paid off. You've become such a good slut. I think you're almost ready."
I took out my phone and took a quick snap of her red ass over my lap and sent it to Paula. Bimbo training almost complete for little Alyssa I wrote, and sent it off. I spanked Alyssa again, harder this time so I could fully enjoy the ripple.
"Three; thank you, Miss Erin."
We got up to fifteen before I heard my phone chirp with Paula's reply.
"Fuckkkkkkkkk dude. Let me have a go," she wrote.
"Soon."
We'd been inseparable for years, Alyssa and I, sharing the sort of charged best-friendship that sometimes raised eyebrows-- there are those two weird girls who are always together. But in the end it came down to dumb luck--there's no other way to attribute it when you consider how unlikely the circumstances had been: me turning my best friend into my lesbian bimbo slave girl.
It was the spring of our senior year of high school when the wheels were put in motion. I was eighteen as of the previous October and she had turned nineteen in March. It was the last hurrah before we went separate ways that fall. But that spring--it was probably late March--we were at the cast party for a play Alyssa had been in. She played a lady-in-waiting or something like that. She only had a couple of lines, but good ones--she got a big laugh in her biggest scene and she was on stage nearly the entire second act. And still, on what should have been a triumphant night, I returned from the bathroom to find her sulking in the corner of the party.
"Out with it."
"The play's over, which means my lead role is next."
"Yes. You should be proud."
"There's a kiss scene."
"Yes, you told me."
"It's pivotal. But I've never kissed anyone before."
I looked at her--she was gorgeous--pale skin, chestnut hair, thick in all the most amazing places--she would've been buxom in a more body positive era. Almost immediately, a plan came together. It was kind of crazy, and relied on a lot of good fortune, but I had to shoot my shot.
"You want to seem natural?"
"I'm so nervous it's gonna look awkward, or look fake, or everyone will know that I've never kissed anyone."
"Why don't you just practice?"
"How?"
"You can practice at my house--no one will see it there and I can film you with a pillow. Give you notes. Just you and me."
