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This Shouldn't
Have Happened
In her adulthood, Whitney started finding an immense calm in being at a stranger’s apartment when she knew they were going to fuck. She still got as nervous as anyone when she wasn’t sure how the other person was feeling. But when she knew that they were going to fuck, she felt the whole world slow down. And tonight, Whitney knew they were going to fuck.
She sipped her drink slowly; a vodka lemonade in a thrift store mug. She sat down in front of Spencer’s bookshelf and asked which books were hers and which were her roommates’. They smoked another joint on her back patio. And then, Spencer led her by the hand to her room in the basement.
Energized by her meandering, Whitney was ready to stretch things out until morning. She took Spencer’s shoes from her one at a time. Then her socks. Then her shorts. Kissing up the inside of her left leg, she stopped right before making it to her navy cotton boxer-briefs. Instead, she started the routine again from the top, this time taking Spencer’s hair-clips, shirt, and bra.
Spencer whispered, “Your turn,” so Whitney took off her shirt before rolling it up like a blindfold and laying it gently over Spencer’s eyes. Taking off each successive item of clothing, Whitney built a nest on Spencer’s stomach. Whitney then filled the nest with Spencer’s underwear.
Spencer opened her legs. Whitney took in her new surroundings before starting in with the very tiny tip of her tongue.
“Are you messing with me?”
“Messing with you…?” Whitney asked, messing with her.
“Fuck me already. Please.”
“Well tell me what you want, then.”
“I don’t know how to say it. I guess…more vigorous.”
So Whitney sped things up. Soon, Spencer had bucked the clothes off her stomach and onto the bed before covering Whitney’s shirt in squirt. Quickly, their innocent game of squirt-shirt-hot-potato turned into Whitney getting fucked against the door. Returning to the bed, hands were replaced by tongues were replaced by dildos were replaced by toys that shook and sucked. By 4:30am, Whitney had mentally decided to call in sick for work and so the two were able to continue on until morning.
As the sun came in through the little basement windows at the top of the wall, they collapsed and slept until noon. Walking to lunch, they passed Whitney’s car. Her spare key still in her pocket, she opened the door and they drove the rest of the way.
The End
She sipped her drink slowly; a vodka lemonade in a thrift store mug. She sat down in front of Spencer’s bookshelf and asked which books were hers and which were her roommates’. They smoked another joint on her back patio. And then, Spencer led her by the hand to her room in the basement.
Energized by her meandering, Whitney was ready to stretch things out until morning. She took Spencer’s shoes from her one at a time. Then her socks. Then her shorts. Kissing up the inside of her left leg, she stopped right before making it to her navy cotton boxer-briefs. Instead, she started the routine again from the top, this time taking Spencer’s hair-clips, shirt, and bra.
Spencer whispered, “Your turn,” so Whitney took off her shirt before rolling it up like a blindfold and laying it gently over Spencer’s eyes. Taking off each successive item of clothing, Whitney built a nest on Spencer’s stomach. Whitney then filled the nest with Spencer’s underwear.
Spencer opened her legs. Whitney took in her new surroundings before starting in with the very tiny tip of her tongue.
“Are you messing with me?”
“Messing with you…?” Whitney asked, messing with her.
“Fuck me already. Please.”
“Well tell me what you want, then.”
“I don’t know how to say it. I guess…more vigorous.”
So Whitney sped things up. Soon, Spencer had bucked the clothes off her stomach and onto the bed before covering Whitney’s shirt in squirt. Quickly, their innocent game of squirt-shirt-hot-potato turned into Whitney getting fucked against the door. Returning to the bed, hands were replaced by tongues were replaced by dildos were replaced by toys that shook and sucked. By 4:30am, Whitney had mentally decided to call in sick for work and so the two were able to continue on until morning.
As the sun came in through the little basement windows at the top of the wall, they collapsed and slept until noon. Walking to lunch, they passed Whitney’s car. Her spare key still in her pocket, she opened the door and they drove the rest of the way.
The End
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