Together with Jen in the Night Air

"It's quiet out here, isn't it?" Jen says with a smile.

"Yes," I reply politely. "It's very nice."

I think it's not so quiet, here in the enormous yard outside Jen's summer house. Insects are everywhere audible, and the faint hum of a passing car wafts up periodically from the not-so-distant highway. I've been quieter places; I grew up in some of them. But compared to the city office in which Jen and I work, this place seems peace incarnate. It really is nice.

Jen is nice too, though I'm not very comfortable around her. I'm kind of shy most of the time, and so I usually form relationships with people who are especially open and easy to talk to. Jen is neither, although she's popular enough at the office--she has a certain charisma; she always looks right at you when you talk to her, so you can tell there's somebody listening. Plus she's pretty, and always perfectly made up; I think most men find her sexy. She and I don't cross paths very often. But that's a strange thought to have when you're sitting across from someone on the floor of their hot tub.

"So give it to me straight," Jen says relaxed, her head cocked to the side. Her expression is movie-star coquettish. "What do you think of Gene?" She's referring to her boyfriend, with whom we have just shared dinner at an adorable picnic table on the back patio. I guess she wants to gossip a little, or have her ego stroked--or, I don't know, maybe I'm being unfair. I sort of have a chip on my shoulder because these people are rich and I'm jealous. But dinner was surprisingly fun. I even find myself giggling a little, reminded of one of Gene's sparkling little jokes.

"He's very playful," I say. "He seems like a good guy." I'll bet he's hung, too, given his size--but I don't mention this.

"Yes, he is. He can be a handful, though," says Jen, arching her sculpted eyebrows in a cute caricature of exasperation. There's real warmth in her voice, something I haven't really heard from her before, and I start to wonder what a guy has to do to get past this girl's persona.

"What about you, Erin? Is there a man in your life?" Jen leans in a bit, the perfect shells of her bikini cups dangling just a tad into the water. I realize she's nearly dry above that point--god, her makeup is still all in place.

"No," I reply. "No, it's been... quite a while."

Jen smiles, staring right at me. "Why not? You're so smart, and pretty--you seem like quite a catch."

I feel like a wet rat, with all this hot sweaty water on me. I'm blushing though. "You really think?" I say, and it sounds like I'm twelve, but Jen doesn't mind. That's what I like about her--she lets you be foolish or clumsy or whatever, if that's what you're gonna be. I think that's the coolest thing. Even though I barely know her.

"I do," she says, still making me squirm with that gaze of hers. "If some of the guys at work saw you right now, I bet they'd... well, they'd be having some thoughts." She finishes with a soft little giggle.

"Oh, well those fashion guys, you know, they're probably all gay anyway," I say to sort of get out of the spotlight, and Jen bursts into laughter. Her boobs dip into the water, and I notice that her nipples are newly and distinctly outlined through her suit. How odd. She straightens herself and leans back, smiling at me.

"Ah, I always wonder about you, sitting so quietly at your desk. What makes you tick?" Jen shakes her hair back, and then settles against the wall of the tub, looking past me at the increasingly starry sky. I'm glad she isn't looking at me; I think she doesn't want me to feel like I have to answer. I keep looking at her, though--does beautiful, mysterious Jen really wonder about me? Surely I'm not such a mystery, but then....

I'm about to answer, maybe to say something uncharacteristically honest. But something touches my leg; it distracts me. I peer down through the phosphorescent water. It's Jen, her slim calf extended onto the little bench between my white thighs. Her toe is nudging me, sort of stroking me, rising and falling with the current. Well, okay. What was I saying?

"Do you have any cousins?" asks Jen, in sort of a dreamy voice. A cool draft blows over my face, rustling my hair.

"Uh, yeah," I tell her. "I have four cousins, all on my mom's side." I'm really starting to feel relaxed. I don't know what we're talking about really, but the jets feel sooo nice on my lower back; I sink down a little like Jen has done, and my breath whooshes out as the hot water dissolves my muscles. I loll my head back and forth, looking up at the Big Dipper. I wonder if Jen thinks I'm cool enough to relax in her tub. I don't know what her deal is anyway.

"I used to go swimming in the summer, all the time, with my uncle's family," she tells me. "My oldest cousin, Ewan, spent forever trying to teach me how--I was terrified of going under for some reason, but he was so persistent." She laughs quietly, and lays her head back against the edge of the tub. Her hair has touched the water for the first time, and I watch its tips flow amongst the white bubbles.

"Ewan," I say, tasting this rich boy's name. "Huh." I don't know what she wants me to say, but it seems okay. I let my palms fall to the bench; they support me as I slide a little further in, pushing Jen's toes in a trail up my thigh. That foot is almost in my way, but not quite.

Jen is looking toward me with a strange expression; I can't tell what she's focusing on. "He was my best friend," she says. Her body shifts, and I feel her toes jab into the crevice where my thigh joins my body.

"Oops," she giggles. I reflexively twist and spread my legs to retract from her, planting my feet on the tub floor. She pulls her foot back, but only to the edge of my bench.

"Uh, sorry about that," I say lamely, even though it was basically her fault that she poked me in the crotch.

"I don't mind," responds Jen. Her voice is sort of low. It's getting pretty dark, but in the light from the tub, I suddenly notice that her face is quite red. Like, really flushed. I'm thinking maybe she's about to faint from the heat or something, but before I can say anything she picks up her foot and plants it right on my pussy.

"Oops," she says again, very softly. This is really weird. It's so weird, that I can't even move. Well I guess I can, but I don't. It seems like there's steam everywhere. Jen pushes against me a little, and I close my thighs partway. I feel nauseated somehow, like when the elevator drops. I don't know how to be in this situation, but here we are.

Jen has taken charge. "Stephen in Reception," she says in her new voice, "wants to bend you over your desk." She is totally confident, despite her evident agitation, and I just can't move. "He says your ass looks like a ripe pear." Now I'm blushing too. I feel my big soft ass spread under me, pinned by that delicate foot--why would anybody like such a big ass? My heart beats fast. Jen doesn't explain. She speaks over her floating, visibly aroused breasts--oh my god, she's really getting horny for me--and I wonder whether she wants me to be horny too. She's inscrutable, some kind of reddened sea goddess, nestled between two white, Lycra pearls.

"Unh," I whine, and I'm surprised at the way I sound. Jen twiddles her toes, and a wave of heat washes through my face and torso. I feel so self-conscious--nobody has been this close to me in like forever. She stares right into me, and I can't look away. Is this rape? But I could move, couldn't I?

"He says you look like you were made to be fucked from behind." Jen hooks her toes over my elastic wasteband, and slowly drags them down, tickling me through my wiry bush. I feel the heat throbbing in my ears; I'm blushing so hard. My pussy pulses with the same heat that's in the rest of me, it pulses like it does when I'm horny, and down inside it I feel the slickness of my lube, oh my god, I'm turning into a lesbian. "He says he would fuck you that way until cum came out your nose." She releases my suit and pushes her heel between me and the bench, wedging it against the spot between my pussy and my butthole.

"I think he's right," she purrs. Her leg stretches out straight, and I gasp.

"Jen, what the fuck," I say. She angles her foot, and the ball of it spreads my lips, and I bet she can feel my juice, because it's pouring out now--I can get really drippy, I mean when I'm not in a hot tub. "Jen, Jen," and she lays her big toe up my little clitty, so that I have to thrust my hips. Because I need more pressure.

Jen is rocking a little, and I think she's rubbing herself. Her right boob is squashed to one side, the way she's got her arm, and it points right at me. I wonder if she'll put it in my mouth later. I'm squirming with my pelvis, masturbating on her foot, but I'm not the one in charge, and anything could happen tonight. I'm scared, but this is still happening.

"You're my fucktoy," she breathes, grinding into my clit. "You're my curvy fucktoy, and you're spending the night." She pulls back, suddenly becoming gentle, and as her toes trace the outline of my fat pussy lips, I begin to orgasm.

I'm making these little noises, every time the spasm hits me, and Jen just keeps stroking, making it go on and on. My arms are barely holding me up; I'm almost underwater but somehow it's not too hot.

Then suddenly, the stimulation is gone, and my orgasm subsides. I pant, and then splutter as the water finally clears my nose and mouth; I struggle to sit up, blinking and gasping. But something pushes on my arms--it's Jen's legs; she's knelt over me on the bench, and as I rise she clambers in quickly to fit her thighs under my armpits, holding me partway down. Her crotch is just inches off my nose. My arms strain to hold me. I look up, still catching my breath, to see her smooth, dripping torso curving over me, her face just visible beyond her proud breasts. It's finally wet; her expression is urgent and wild.

"Suck," she commands. Her tone has risen; in its quaver I can hear that she's never done this before. My body tries to obey her but it's too hard, the way I'm scrunched, and my scalp really hurts where the tub's rim digs into it.

"Jen I can't," I tell her. "Please get off me." She's not listening; she's on a mission. Her right knee swings up past me so she's half out of the tub, and her crotch rotates right onto my panting mouth.

"Suck me babe, I want you so bad!" My stretched legs scrabble on the tub floor as Jen's steamy cunt kisses all my senses. Her sweet, dizzying musk fills my head, and for a moment I'm delirious, tongue splayed against spongy, sea-soaked bikini bottom, milking droplets of chlorinated girl straight into my brain. Then my feet slip for the last time and I'm bumping downward again, dark hair swirling around my submerged face. I swallow a load of hot water and for a moment I think I'm drowning. But then she's pulling my arms up, and together Jen and I half-roll from the tub, tangling our suddenly heavy bodies onto a soft beach towel.

The breeze is so chilly after all of that, but it's just what I need. Jen is behind me, and she spoons with me, stroking my clammy arm. Her face is hooked over my shoulder, and she whispers, "I'm so sorry baby, it's okay, you're okay now." Well, it really wasn't that bad; I'm pretty sure I can escape a hot tub by myself. But my body is still shaking, and I feel so good with this beautiful woman holding me and nuzzling me that I start to cry.

"It's okay honey, I'm here," she says, rocking me and kissing my cheek. Her voice is still husky, and I can feel her hot pussy at the base of my thigh, but she is totally just mothering me now, this horny, bisexual starlet, and I'm so full of warmth for her that I just can't stop crying. Nobody ever touches me like this.

"Jen, I'll do whatever you want," I sniff. "Just give me a second, and I'll help you get off. I just need to, like, unwind." I feel her fingers encircle my breast, and I press my hand over hers, wanting her to like it.

"Baby you just do what you need," says Jen, but she's already crawling over me, groping and kissing my malleable flesh. Her firm little thighs lock through mine, bringing our pussies together, and she strokes and pushes my arms behind my head, entwining our fingers as her weight presses down upon me. Her face covers the sky, and I know this is going to be my first girl kiss, and I feel my body open to it.

Jen lowers herself gracefully, meeting my lips to hers. My eyes are half-shut; tingles run through my chest. It's that elevator feeling again. She kisses me deeply, torquing her vagina on mine, and I feel my lube return. The bikinis are scratching me, and I suddenly move my arms to pull mine off, without releasing her lips. She tries to catch my wrists and hold me down, but then she gets what I'm doing, and her rump arches as we both strip off our bottoms. Jen's firm tits form bulging pillars for her upper body; I love how it feels to have another girl's boobs on my own. Our legs tangle as we try to undress without looking, and Jen grins into my mouth at the awkwardness of it, but her lips stay firm on mine. Soon our butts are bare, and in a swift move Jen grasps my arms and pins me again, rolling her hips to mesh our ripe, furry cunts together.

I'm a little bigger than her, but to me she feels very strong, and I melt into her penetrating motion as if this is the big, strong man I have always fantasized about. She grinds and shudders on me in little moves that seem calculated to produce as much contact between our organs as possible. Her hips pump and thrust, and her tongue fucks my mouth. Suddenly I'm groaning and cumming again, it's taken me hardly any time, but Jen won't let me move. She puts all her tension into our joined hips, letting us twist and fall to the side, and when she can't keep my arms down anymore she wraps hers around me, squeezing me tight under my armpits. My body is pumping with hormones and surrender; I am having sex, I am sex. I feel my fingers stroking her hair and randomly clasping at nothing as she fucks me. Her face is so warm; we are dripping onto the towel, though the breeze is still cool. Jen hums out her pleasure through her nose; I hear it rise and peak and rise again, as my own body fills with a third climax. She slows to a halt, but her body is stiffened; I feel the night around us once more, insects and stars and Jen's quiet, hard orgasm all running into me and out again. Her clutching hand jerks on my wet back; her naked pelvis twitches. Our faces have drifted apart, and I watch the little tremors flash through her clenched eyes and frozen snarl of a mouth. I never dreamed I would see her like this.

Gradually her body softens, and her breath returns. She slowly opens her eyes, and sinks her head to the patio. Our bodies ease apart, and cool air slips into the moist crevices between us. I stroke Jen's hair, and she plays with mine behind my back. I'm staring into her eyes, but I don't know what to say. I wonder if I'm going to have a crush on her now. I guess I probably will. But she said I could stay the night....

"Tomorrow we'll go sailing," she says, running the backs of her fingers over my cheek. I love her touch. "Oh, Erin, I can't wait to spend more time with you... it'll be so much fun." But she sounds rich and distant again, and suddenly I'm scared that she doesn't feel anything about this, that it was just a game to her.

"I... I'm glad I had my first time with you," I tell her in a halting voice. Somebody's got to say it. "I mean, with a girl." She's watching me with that wonderful attentiveness.

"Me too, Erin." She's smiling like she's got a wonderful secret, and looking at her I get lost, just smiling dumbly back and breathing in her beauty. She doesn't say anything--no, she's leaning in, and through our chests as they clasp again I can feel that her heart is beating quickly. My god, I'm really doing this to her. Then we kiss, and I stop thinking.

I don't know how long this lasts--it's probably just for a few seconds, but I don't feel the time. When Jen eases back, her blushing smile is for me, and I know things are okay. I hug her tightly, and now she is the one to melt. Then I slowly sit up straight, stretching my limbs into the open night.

"We'd better get dressed or something," I say, and Jen nods her perfect head. We stand and rerobe, bumping our hips together with drunken girly giggles. Jen swats my ass, hard enough to make me jiggle, and then rubs the spot gently.

"Later I'm going to show you my strap-on," she says, and trots off, one of those slim, bouncy girls from the beer commercials, only she has a strap-on apparently. I gulp, fighting off another full-body blush. Then I pick up the towels, and briskly follow her toward the house.