When the girl I met at the wedding passed out on me, her roommate took over [M28 F20s F20s] [sex] [oral] [mutual masturbation] [handjob]

She’s got this tight little body in a tight little dress, a sexy young woman with a cute blonde pixie cut. I spot her before the ceremony, and I smile at her across the aisle. She smiles back, an impish little grin. We have to wait for the happy couple to finish their nuptials, but thankfully, it’s followed by a cocktail hour.

“Max,” I say, holding my hand out.

She flicks her eyebrows at me, tucking her chin. “Andrea.” Her hand is soft and warm in mine, and she drags her finger across my palm after we shake.

“Drink?” I suggest, snatching two flutes from a passing waiter.

“To marriage.” She holds out her glass, clinks it against mine. “May it never find me.”

I laught and I sip, but she shoots the champagne in one gulp. My eyebrows raise and I laugh again.

She asks, “How do you know the betrothed?”

“Groom’s cousin.”

“Good,” she says, “I’m on the bride’s side, which means when you fuck me we won’t be doing family.”

I manage to not spit out my drink, but I do drain the rest of it. I grab Andrea’s hand, drag her to the bar.

She orders, “Vodka, straight.” Oh, that’s where we’re going?

Soon, it’s dinner time, and we’re at different tables of course. But the couple of the hour have their first dance as newlyweds and a few minutes later the dancefloor opens. We hoist the couple in chairs and hava negilah in circles and then finally it’s open dancing, and Andrea wastes no time. She grinds against me to ‘Thunderstruck’ and then to ‘What’s My Age Again’ and then to Louise Armstrong crooning, ‘What a Beautiful World,’ which I think we were supposed to slow-dance to, but I don’t complain.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, mouth pressed against my ear. She follows it up by licking my earlobe.

I look around the hall. “They’re going to cut the cake soon,” I protest.

“But I’m horny now,” she whines, “And I already called a car.”

It’s a fifteen minute ride to her place, and the driver is polite enough to ignore us as she sits on my lap and sucks my face the entire trip. She stinks of booze, but then I’m sure I do, too.

She lives in an old Victorian that’s been converted into four different apartments, and we stumble into one of the upstairs units. The floor creaks and muffled echoes of conversation and TV and music filter through the thin walls. We barely get the front door closed before she’s all over my pants, pulling my suit off.

It wouldn’t take a forensics team to follow the trail my discarded clothes form, leading to her bedroom. I’m naked on her bed and she goes positively crazy on my cock, yanking and smacking and I don’t think she’s trying to be rough, just that she’s willing and drunk.

“I’m so fucking wet,” she moans while I put on a condom, sitting back against her headboard, legs spread, fingering herself.

She’s sloppy drunk, but she’s hot enough I don’t care, and I kneel between her thighs.

She hangs on to me as I fuck her, moaning, “Yes, yes, yes,” as she takes each thrust. It’s not my greatest sex, but sex is sex and she’s hot as fuck.

I adjust angles, digging my knees deeper into her bed, trying to get more leverage. And I think I’m getting it, but her moans grow softer, dreamier. I fuck away, and soon she’s entirely quiet. And, I realize in horror, or maybe annoyance, she’s asleep. She’s limp in my arms, my hard dick still inside her.

Her eyes are closed, the weight of her head supported by my shoulders. And she has the audacity to look peaceful.

“Gah!” I groan, frustrated. I rub my hand across my face. “Andrea!” I hiss, “You there, woman?”

She makes a small moan, but nestles against my chest like I’m her favorite pillow, and only seems to be deeper in sleep.

“Fuck!” I mutter. Why did she have to drink so much?

But it doesn’t matter. She did what she did, and that’s how life goes. I pull her off me and get her situated in her bed, tucking her in beneath the blanket, making sure she’s on her stomach. She looks so tranquil and contented.

I sigh.

Tossing the condom in the trash unfulfilled, I begin making my way to collect my clothes. I need to call another car, but I don’t know where my phone is. I hope it’s in a pocket somewhere.

I freeze. There’s a girl standing in the Andrea’s bedroom doorway, half behind the jamb, watching me.

“She pass out on you?”

The girl — woman — is tall, almost my height, and even though it’s dark, I can see the rich olive complexion of her skin, the seabreeze green panties she’s wearing. Streetlight filters in through the apartment’s living room window, hitting her obliquely, the perfect angle to make shadows from her muscle tone on her bare legs, on her tight belly. She’s got on a thin, small shirt, and the light draws out the curve of her tits behind it, the little peaks of a nipple poking through.

I blink, shake my head, gather myself. “Uh, yeah, she had a bit to drink, I think.”

“And you didn’t finish in her?” the woman nods at my dick, still fiercely erect, stiff as a broomstick and nearly as long.

I grin sheepishly. “Uh, no. Didn’t seem right.”

The woman shrugs. “Andrea does this all the time. Most guys don’t stop. I don’t think she really cares, or even remembers, honestly.”

“That’s fucked up.”

She chuckles. “You’re too nice for her.”

I lean over, gather my socks. “So, what, you’re here why? A sexy home invasion robbery?”

She laughs again. “Oh, that’d be fun. But no, I’m Carmen, her sexy roommate.” She crosses her legs, twists her hips.

“Well, Carmen,” I grin, “Maybe you could help me, as you happen to be currently standing on my underwear.”

“I am?” she says, moving not at all, “That seems silly of me. Although, I don’t know how much good they’ll do you, seeing as I don’t see them fitting over that.” She nods again at my dick, which remains defiantly stiff.

I step closer to her. “It doesn’t give up so easily. But eventually it will.”

“Seems like such a waste of a good erection.” She bites her lip.

The light’s dim, but closer, I can see that she’s very pretty, with fascinating dark eyes. “Do you have an alternate suggestion?” I put my hands on her hips, and she gasps, but I guide her to the side, out of the doorway, off my clothes.

Carmen’s breathing is shallow, her chest rising and sinking rapidly, and I think she’s arching her back. “I’m a good girl, Max. I can’t cheat on my boyfriend.”

Really? It seems like she’s unsure if this is true. I pick up my underwear, head into the living room. “Well, he’s a lucky guy, then. Pity he’s not here right now, though.”

“Why? Why is that a pity?” She follows behind me.

I grab my tie, look her up and down again. “Cuz you’re hot as fuck, and if you were my girl, I’d be here, fucking you right now.”

She sucks in a breath. “Wait.”

I turn away, scan the room for my pants. “For what?”

“I want to watch you masturbate.”

I turn back, and her top is off. Her chest is just as fit as the rest of her, and two nice, big tits stare at me, little dark nipples hard and sexy.

“It’s not cheating,” she insists, “If you get yourself off while I just happen to be nearby.”

If she says so, but I hold my tongue, not wanting to dissuade her. Instead, I tell her, “Take off your panties.”

“Ok!” She’s willing to follow my instruction, and down they go. She’s fantastic naked, even sexier than Andrea, mess that that had been. Maybe this night isn’t ruined.

The living room is an old leather sofa and two armchairs, arranged in a circle around a small table. “Sit,” I nod at a chair, taking a seat on the couch.

I spread my legs and lean back, fist on my cock, rubbing myself in big, slow strokes. She stares, lips parted and glistening. She’s hunched over, on the edge of her seat, legs together.

Relax,” I tell her, “Sit back. Play with your tits.”

“Oh!” She does what I say, showing off her round, full breasts. She runs a finger across her nipples, bounces them, squeezes them. They roll side to side, fat and glorious.

“Nice,” I encourage, grinning my appreciation. Her gaze is fixed on my cock, on my fingers rubbing my glans. “Now show me your pussy.”

“What?” she looks nervous.

“Put your knees on the armrests,” I instruct, “Spread yourself wide.”

“But you’ll see–”

“I know,” I cut her off, “That’s the point.”

She whimpers, but follows my directions. And her pussy is tight and wet and hot, yes, but seeing her doing what I tell her is even hotter. “Touch it,” I tell her.

Her chest heaves, but she doesn’t hesitate this time, running her fingers up and down her sexy little slit.

“Put your finger inside yourself,” I say. “Deeper. All the way in.”

Her other hand joins the first, rubbing her clit without me even having to tell her. I grin.

“Now suck your finger clean.”

She freezes. “What?”

“Do it!” I insist.

She’s trepidatious, but she does it, sending her finger into her mouth. I moan, let her know how much I’m enjoying, and this seems to help her relax, get into it.

“Do you masturbate a lot?” I ask.

Her voice is small. “No.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful thing, watching you pleasure yourself. So sexy.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Now use more fingers.”

She moans, cheeks flushing, her pussy glistening wet reflections of the dim streetlight. I’m fascinated, I wasn’t sure this girl would do it, but she’s not wavering at all anymore. “Push your whole hand in,” I say.

This makes her gasp, “But I’ve never–”

“Imagine it’s my cock,” I say, making a ring with my fist, giving a show of my cock penetrating it, helping her visualize. “How do you think it feels to get fucked by me?”

I’m exaggerating slightly, my dick’s big and her hand is small, but still.

It’s enough, though, and it’s sort of amazing. Her whole hand is in her pussy. Her arm is bent, wrist wedged up into her sex, stretching her wide open. Her clit rubs against the back of her thumb and she moans, her eyelids drooping.

“Make yourself cum,” I instruct.

“I’m trying,” she groans, “I’m so close.” She rides her hand, her hips writhing and twisting, tits bouncing everywhere, and I love this, jacking myself heavier than I mean to. Her hair clings to her scalp, her fingers pinch her nipple, and I have a hard time slowing my fist down, not finishing myself off right now.

But finishing myself off is not the plan, I remind myself.

“Have you climaxed yet?” I ask.

“No!” she moans, “So close…”

“Come over here,” I say, patting the couch next to me.

Her eyes go wide, still filled with ecstasy, but studying me, weighing the situation. “Why?”

Good, I can work with ‘why.’ ‘Why’ is just one good reason short of ‘yes.’ “I want to help you,” I explain.

“I’m not going to cheat!” Ironic words from a girl masturbating while I watch, but I don’t tell her that.

I keep my tone reasonable, calm. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, I’m just going to give you a little assistance, lend you a helping hand. And you can do the same for me, if you feel up for it.”

This percolates through her, and in the logic of horny, desperate people, it makes sense. Kind of. Enough. “Ok,” she pants.

She sits on the couch next to me, and I switch my cock to my other hand, so I can use the one closer to her to guide her legs back open.

Her chest is heaving with deep, quick breaths, her tits shiny and sticky with sweat, and she watches me with an expression somewhere between anxiety and longing. I take her hand, suck her fingers clean, taste her sweetness. When done, I direct her hand to my shaft, rest her hand on my stiff heat.

Her fingers curl around it, and she gives it a flighty little tug. “I shouldn’t,” she whispers.

“It’s ok,” I say, petting her knee reassuringly, bringing my hand to her pussy.

Now, I know I’m an idiot, and will never be a great leader or a powerful mogul. But if the history books remember me for anything, it’ll be my ability to give a damn good fingering. My hands know their way around pussy, know where to touch and when to touch it. They know how to read the woman, sense what she likes or doesn’t, to know when it’s too much, or to know when too much is just right.

Girls I’m with know me for this, come to ask for it. Not that I wait for them to, I’ll sneak my hand between a girl’s legs as often as I can. When we’re just sitting around, doing nothing, sure. But also while doing chores, while eating, while at the park, while in the car, while at the movies, while at a restaurant, while on an airplane. Once a woman opens up that part of her life to me, I don’t leave it until things end.

Carmen’s getting a little glimpse into that, and even though she’s already dripping wet and halfway towards orgasm, my fingers dance through her pussy with a masterful adagio. It takes me only seconds to have her whimpering and moaning and leaning into me.

Her grip on my cock is nearly forgotten, moving in only sporadic jerks and spasms, but that’s ok, with the way I have Carmen squealing and contorting, I’m confident I’ll get my turn.

I give her the orgasm she claimed she was so close to, though I doubt she was anywhere near to one so profound and consuming. Her eyes lock on mine, an impatient hunger in her stare, even as she grimaces in climax. “What did you–” she stalls, loses her breath, sucks down fresh air, “What are you doing to me?” She throws her head back, wails as she bodily twitches.

I shrug, grinning. “Just helping you out. Now why don’t you help me?” I stroke her hand as she calms down, the one wrapped around my dick in a fierce grip.

“Oh,” she says, like she forgot it was there.

She gives my dick a rub, stroking it top to bottom, and I sigh in appreciation.

But then, and I’m not expecting this, she slides off the couch, pushes the little table out of the way, and knees in front of me, taking my dick in her mouth. She sucks on the tip, jacks off the base with her fists, and looks me in the eye.

“Oh! Fuck!” I moan, amazed at this turn.

She’s intently serious about the blowjob, bypassing all the teasing and warm up, going straight for the main event, working with my cock with the direct intention of making me cum. Her grip is tight, her lips tighter, her tongue all over the place.

I hold back well as I can, not expecting this, not wanting this to be over too soon. But as good as I am with my fingers, she’s nearly as good with her mouth, and after an evening of grinding and fucking and masturbating and now fellatio, I feel myself hastily approaching my boiling point.

And Carmen, bless her, she feels it, too. And she does the most wonderful thing, pulling her hands off my cock and shoving her face down it’s length, taking me in her throat. She doesn’t stop until her lips reach my pelvis. She looks up at me with a look of pure devotion, and that’s what does it.

“Oh, hell,” I grunt as the cum bursts from my dick. Carmen’s a trooper, staying in place though surge after surge, patiently taking all my balls have to offer. I caress her face, stroke her cheek, and then only when I’m done does she pull off my cock.

I take back when I said earlier, she sucks dick even better than I give finger.

She sits back, crossing her legs, looking pleased with herself. “Spend the night,” she says.

“Why?” I frown, “I don’t even know you.”

“Because I need your cock inside me,” she says.

“Uh, I don’t–”

She cuts me off, “And Andrea will be awake by then, and you can finish with her, too.”

“Oh, hrm,” I consider. But still I pause. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Fuck him, he’s not here.”

“Interesting.”

Carmen is weirdly sweet, insisting on playing homemaker, fishing out some bedding and dressing the couch, making sure I’m comfortable and know where everything is. I almost feel bad for her boyfriend.

I sleep naked, and wake to Andrea sitting on one of the armchairs, looking hungover but used to it, chomping on a bowl of cereal.

“What happened?” she asks, mouth full of food, “I don’t remember… who made you a bed?” She’s in a long, loose, threadbare shirt. If I had to guess, she’s naked underneath.

“You were pretty tired,” I explain, “Carmen helped me out after you fell asleep.” I sit up, pull the sheet apart.

She looks at my dick, eyes going wide. “Did you and I– have sex?”

I grin. “Like I said, you were pretty tired.”

Footsteps approach from behind me. “Oh, you’re up!” Carmen says, tone bright and cheery. She steps around the couch and sits next to me.

“Carmen,” Andrea draws her words, a concerned look on her face, “Where are your clothes?”

“Max likes me naked,” she says, as if this explains anything. “He’d probably like you naked, too. If you’re interested.” Carmen’s hands are on me, running up and down my muscles, tracing their outlines.

Andrea sets her breakfast down, taking in this newest development. “Well,” she says, “If that’s what we’re doing.” And then her shirt’s over her head and tossed carefree on the empty chair beside her, and my earlier suspicion is confirmed, she is totally naked underneath. She stands, sits down on the couch on my free side. “Isn’t it a bit early in the morning for threesomes?”

My hand finds her pussy, begins working its magic.

She sighs. “Ohhhh… maybe not.”

NSFW: yes


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