One from me that I hope you enjoy. In this one a suburban housewife hears a tale of debauchery from her friend, and then wonders what it would be like to watch her husband with her friend ...
Feedback of the constructive criticism kind welcome; either in public comments section below, PM on Lit, or email. If you want a response, then email is best.
I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, but reread and 'corrected' this morning. If there are errors, forgive me, please.
GA - Antigua, Guatemala. 9th May 2012.
*
Melanie paused with the coffee pot half tilted, and turned an incredulous face towards Loraine. 'You did what?' she blurted. A smirk, embarrassed yet defiant, lifted one corner of Loraine's mouth. 'You did what?' Melanie repeated as the coffee pot thunked, suddenly impossibly heavy in her nerveless fingers, onto its stand.
Loraine, examining her shoes, unable to meet Melanie's eye, replied. 'I went ...' she swallowed, throat dry with the confession while her eyes flicked around the kitchen, landing everywhere but her friend's shocked countenance, '... to that club,' she finished. Her chin came up, green eyes flashing defiance.
Melanie's mouth remained open as she took in the details of her friend, the woman she
thought
she knew; she saw the outer shell -- firm, fit and forty -- and had thought she'd known the inner woman. How well did she really know Loraine? Not that well it seemed. Loraine had surprised her, shocked her beyond her sheltered, monogamous, suburban experience.
She'd seen her friend's body countless times in the changing room at the gym. Loraine would certainly be able to hold her own, naked, in a swingers' club, no doubt about it, after all. Loraine wasn't shy about showing off her round boobs, her great legs, and plump vulva. Melanie had long ago realised that Loraine was an exhibitionist -- and good for her, Melanie had thought. Loraine had the looks and the body, and if it gave her a thrill to show a bit of cleavage and a lot of leg, if she enjoyed teasing men, then why shouldn't she enjoy herself? But Melanie had never dreamt that her friend would go to that club.
Despite her astonishment, Melanie experienced a flicker of curiosity, a tiny, nearly imperceptible throb of interest between her legs, an infinitesimal heartbeat. Her loins warmed.
'Oh, God, Loraine ...' Melanie gasped, collapsing onto one of three stork-legged stools adjacent to the breakfast bar. 'I ... You didn't ... Tell me you're making it up.'
Loraine reached for the coffee pot and poured two cups. Her voice came, thick and treacly with the memory of what she'd done. 'I'm not making it up, Mel.' She paused and lit a cigarette. 'I went and I got fucked.'
The succinct disclosure quickened the pulse in that place between Melanie's thighs. She experienced, with vivid clarity, a flash of an image of Loraine on her hands and knees, an expression of lust twisting her face while a man, indeterminate in features, a vague, amorphous shape, knelt behind Loraine and fed his long, hard cock into her body.
Melanie closed her eyes, suppressing a gasp, forcing the lewd picture from her mind. To her horror her clitoris pulsed to life, its cadence in syncopation with the clenching her insides. Warmth flooded her vulva; she knew her labia would be swelling, flushing pink with her own desire. 'Shit,' she cursed. 'Loraine ... You ...' Melanie's fingers scrabbled for the pack of Marlboro Lights on the counter.
Loraine laughed. 'Since when do you smoke?'
'Since you started to go out and fuck strangers.' She cursed again, spluttering and coughing at the vile taste in her mouth, the raw burn in her lungs. 'Shit ...' Melanie's head buzzed with shock and nicotine; she felt dizzy and a little sick, and crushed the unsmoked cigarette into the ashtray. 'How can you use those things?' she croaked, disgusted with herself and the vile taste in her mouth. She sipped coffee, black and unsweetened, anything to get rid of that taste.
Loraine laughed. 'You're so ...
normal
,' she said, not unkindly. That was why she liked Melanie, chose her as a best friend; Mel was solid and secure, so dependable. So normal.
Miffed at the perceived slight, Melanie said, haughtily: 'I don't go to ... to ... swingers' clubs and prostitute myself.' She sniffed, avoiding Loraine's eyes, attempting to ignore the commotion between her legs.
Loraine's eyes rolled. 'I didn't prostitute myself,' she countered, drawing on the cigarette. 'Nobody paid me. I went for myself. I really wanted the experience. It was such a turn on, Mel, men lusting after me. Every bloke there wanted to fuck me ...' Her eyes came up to study her friend's reaction as she added, '... some of the women too.' Loraine's grin confronted Melanie head-on, a clash of moral ideals. She struck a pose reminiscent of a pin-up painted on a World War Two bomber. 'Me being such a hottie,' she finished.
The grin and her friend's humour forced a reluctant smirk from Melanie. 'Oh, shit, Loz,' she sighed, sipping coffee again. 'I ...' Melanie shook her head. 'I don't know. I thought I knew you and ...'
'I said I wanted to go,' Loraine responded. She stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette, discarding it beside the corpse of its near virginal twin. 'It's been weeks since I had a good shag. Anyway,' she pouted, 'why shouldn't I go to a club like that? I'm youngβ' Loraine paused, grinned again and rephrased. 'βI'm forty, free, and single, and sometimes I just need a good, hard fuck.'
Melanie interpreted Loraine's look as
and what's wrong with that? You've got a husband to fuck. Who do I have?
'Oh, Loz ...' Melanie sighed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to judge.' The picture of Loraine flickered to life again. This time Melanie heard the long, drawn out moan draw from her friend's throat as the man, still indistinct, thrust into her body roughly. She saw the man's fingers dig white welts into the flesh of Loraine's hips, heard the slapping tempo of his thrusts. 'What ...' Melanie croaked, her voice hoarse. She coughed to clear her throat. 'Tell me,' she whispered. 'What was it really like?'
'Oh, Mel ...' Loraine's eyes glistened. 'It was just so sexy. I was really nervous, but that just made it better. My pussy was soaking all day before I went.'
As the story unfolded Melanie began to appreciate the sensations that had driven Loraine to visit the club. She listened agog, mouth unhinged, the pulse inside her quickening when her friend revealed the details.
'I wanted to play with myself all day but forced myself not to.' A blush crept up the narrator's throat. 'I really wanted to touch myself, just to take the edge off, but I forced myself to leave it alone.' Her rump squirmed against the seat as her reminiscing reignited the flame of lust. What a night it had been. All day she'd wanted to rub herself. To masturbate until the burning itch between her legs cooled. 'When I got to the place I was trembling. I was so anxious, so nervous, but it was all mixed in with being desperate to fuck. I coulda jumped the first bloke I saw, Mel. Any cock would've done. The woman who showed me around was really good; she knew how nervous I was. It was funny but we just chatted about general things at first, had a drink at the bar all normal ... except I was in a bar wearing a huge, fluffy dressing gown, most of the people in there were wearing the gowns, but there were a few who were naked. Then ...' Loraine squirmed again. 'Do you mind if we sit in your living room, Mel?'
Melanie blinked, confused by the tangential request. 'Yes. Sure. Why not.' She eased herself from the stool and, after pouring two fresh cups of coffee, followed Loraine.