#golden age of fighting games

[perfectlegend-blog]

FGC NEWS 1/31/23: The Importance of Button Check, Undisputed Early Access, Major Tournament Sign ups & more.

The legendary Mike Watson, owner of Super Arcade has brought back Moment 37 Reloaded. The last event was in 2014! “Wanted to save this but it’s too HYPE! Little bit more info on our tourney. Huge thanks to @DRB3000 for the trailer and @ringrim for the motivation to do this. Please share and spread the word to keep old school games alive!” Originally tweeted by Super Arcade !!! (@SuperDojo) on…

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

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[danielnelsen]

challenge for anyone who’s good at dragon age inquisition and also hates themselves:

nightmare difficulty

no companions (if they’re locked into the party, turn off their ai and get rid of all their gear)

all trials on

no golden nug

[aerithisms]

sometimes i remember how the silver snow route from fire emblem three houses had the potential to be the juiciest sexiest angstiest route in that whole game like edelgard is such a torturously tragic character on all non-crimson flower routes to start with but ESPECIALLY this route, where she allows herself to place her faith in the eagles and byleth and comes so close to escaping her despair only to die miserable and alone at the hands of someone she loved and trusted, should by all rights have been the slay of the century. and then i remember that it was half-arsed and soulless and i get mad all over again

[septembersghost]

buzzfeed quiz dragging me this morning

[dr-wormman]

Just checked the paladins wiki for the 100000000000th time to refresh myself on the sentinels’ lore (even though there's almost none to begin with) & this looks like new info? The parts about the mission going to shit anyways & the 5 members thing. Idk maybe I've gone insane and my brain is tricking me into thinking this is new out of desperation

[euphemiaamillais]

money, power, glory - coriolanus snow

on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor���after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?

cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo

the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.

you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.

you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.

‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.

you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.

‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’

drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.

‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.

drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.

‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.

you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.

and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.

among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.

drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.

‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.

he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.

‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.

‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.

he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.

‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.

‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’

his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.

‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’

your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’

president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.

‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.

he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.

the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.

‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.

‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’

you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?

‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.

‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’

you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.

‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.

you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.

—

drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.

‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.

the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.

let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.

‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.

‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.

‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.

your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.

‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.

drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.

‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’

your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.

‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’

‘others?’ your voice falters.

‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.

you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.

you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.

you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.

every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?

—

the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.

your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.

without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.

you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.

you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.

you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.

the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.

you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.

‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.

you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.

‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.

you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.

‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.

‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’

you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.

‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.

in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?

‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.

you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?

‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.

you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.

he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.

‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.

‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.

‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’

you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.

‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’

your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?

‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.

‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.

‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.

‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’

he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.

‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’

you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.

he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.

his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?

but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.

‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.

‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.

‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.

he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.

‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.

‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.

your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.

he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.

‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.

your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.

‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.

your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.

‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.

you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.

‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.

‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.

‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’

you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.

finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.

you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.

you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.

'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.

his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.

'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.

feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.

hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.

'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.

'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.

and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.

'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.

you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.

‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.

when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.

‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.

you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.

he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.

he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.

he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.

‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.

you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.

‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’

you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.

‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.

you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.

'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.

'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.

'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.

he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.

'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.

you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.

as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.

‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.

you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.

‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.

you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.

‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.

‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.

‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.

the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.

you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.

‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.

‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.

you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!

‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’

when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.

‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.

he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.

'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.

another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.

'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'

the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.

'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.

coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.

when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.

‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.

your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.

‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’

[slut4jeon]

Closer to You (jjk)

Jk x fem reader

Summary- Jungkook’s early morning gym session leaves you feeling a whole lot of things

Warnings: smut, age gap idk by how much I’ll just leave it to your imagination, older jk, degradation, shower sex, pet names, the word daddy, breading kink, slapping, rough sex, everything’s consensual ofc, fictional!!!, etc idrk

The gasp I let out when he posted this on weverse+*%€#!^~*% (closer to you best b side on golden, fight me)

-

Turning on your side, drowsy and looking for a more comfortable position you notice how your boyfriends side of the bed was cold.

Assuming he had already gone on his early morning gym session, you waited patiently for his arrival.

You finally hear the sound of the front door closing, footsteps coming closer and closer to your shared bedroom. You take in your boyfriends appearance once he stepped into the room.

Your core sparked in need as you felt yourself heating up.

His skin and hair were damp due to the sweaty workout he had just completed. Oh how you wish you had gotten up from your sleep to admire his godly body as he worked out his muscular physique.

“Morning sweetheart, did my pretty girl sleep well?”, he said as he approached you, caressing your cheek with his manly hand.

“Yes, missed you while you were gone”, you said as he cooed you.

“Missed you more baby, I’ll go take a shower and be back alright?”, he said as he began heading to your bathroom with a reassuring nod.

You huffed in boredom as you heard the shower turn on. Suddenly a whole bunch of menacing things came up into your mind.

Entering the bathroom, mirrors fogged up due to the temperature of the water, it felt like a sauna. Slipping out of your silk nightgown now completely bare, you enter the shower with your boyfriend taking him by surprise.

He takes in your appearance, admiring your body from head to toe. A gulp ran through his throat as he craved for you.

“Not tired anymore, baby?”, he said as he embraced you in his muscular tatted arms.

“No, felt lonely and bored. Wanted to be closer to you”, you said with a hint of neediness in your tone.

He caught on to your fake act. He knew you like the back of his palm. Being attentive and aware to your needs. How could he ever say no to a pretty thing like you?

“You little minx, does baby want something, hm?”, two can play at one game he thought, he needed you to share your naughty thoughts with him before proceeding.

“Yes, you.”, giving your best doe eyed stare as you batted your pretty lashes.

That’s all it took for Jungkook to latch his pinky soft lips with yours, eloping the two of you. He kissed you with a sense of hunger, caressing your sides with his strong hands. Gripping onto your plump cheeks as he gave them a firm stinging slap. Causing you to jump and whine in surprise.

You felt his hardening member touching your upper thigh. His hands left your ass as he groped your full breasts, rubbing and pinching on your buds. He teared his hungry lips away from yours as he latched them onto your hardening buds. He was so rough you loved it, loving the way he manhandled you.

You whined in sensitivity of his skillful mouth as you then firmly gripped with your palm onto his length. An up and down motion from base to tip making sure to rub the slit on the tip as well. He grunted in response which only made you wetter.

“ah fuck, mhm” you squealed out in surprise as he began rubbing in between your plumpy folds.

This only caused him to react in a rough manner, gripping onto your hairs roots.

“Language, watch your mouth. Don’t wanna hear any bad words coming outta your pretty mouth.”, he said with seriousness. Jungkook never liked when you cursed.

His authoritative tone always sent sparks to your already dripping core.

He plunged his long fingers into your cunt, provoking you to release a sweet melodic moan.

“You’re that needy? Desperately needed a good morning fuck, hm?”, he spewed as he pumped his fingers into your raw cunt.

In ecstasy you nodded your head frantically. This causing the excitement to rush into his already hard cock enjoying the submissiveness of your voice.

He slipped his fingers out of your heat causing you to whine in complaint. He slapped a firm slap onto your plump ass.

“Be patient slut”, shoving his fingers coated in your juices to your mouth causing you to suddenly gag.

You cleaned off his fingers as he watched. Roughly turning you around so your bent against the cold bathroom tile wall as your ass sticked out onto his hard on aching to be filled up by his thick cock.

You turned your head towards his direction, locking eyes with him as you mentally begged to be filled by him, expression wise.

“Baby desperately wants my cock, too dumb you don’t even know what you want.”, he complied on what you were asking for, after all you were the one begging.

Stubbornly you retorted back, “I do! w-want your cock, daddy please! want it s-so bad!”

Griping onto your wet hair and pulling it toward to his chest, leaning into your ear “Since your begging like a pathetic slut then you’re gonna take it like one”, he whisper-gritted out as he pushed his entire length in you.

Your full-throated moans were music to his ears. Igniting his excitement and provoking him to pump animalistic til your pussy was raw and red.

“s-shit you’re so fucking tight” he said as you cried.

“s good!“ you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence with how stupid dumb he was pounding into you right now.

All that was heard was both your melodic moans in harmony as his ball frantically slapped onto your ass.

You were in daze. Your thoughts suddenly being cut off by his large palm gripped onto your nape pulling you upwards into his chest.

This erupted a whole new sensation, your current position brushing onto your g spot deliciously.

You cried and whined

“s too much! s-sensitive!”

He loud out a dry chuckle, “Yea? Well too bad baby, you’re gonna take it. You wanted this.”

“daddy gonna c-cum!” You cried as his fingers reached to your lower bud and began abusing it, spasm coming closer.

“Shit me too baby, gonna fill you up real good with my babies. You want that sweetheart? Want to be bred with my babies? Make you a mama, hm?

You stupidly nodded your head eagerly, the words “yes!”, frantically spilling out of your mouth along with your cried moans.

Both cuming together on time, your staggering breathes and cum leaking abused cunt being the after math of your steamy sesh. Jungkook back-hugged you as he repeated what was said earlier on, “do you really want to have babies with me?”, glistening eyes reappearing.

“Yes , I really wanna have children with you kook.”, you said

Reacting in excitement, turning you around so you now are both face to face. He elopes both of your lips together.

“Guess we better start practicing.”

[oflorelei]

My Problem is:

That it's a let down. Listen I am not mad or horrible dissapointed over that Radahn is there (although sigh i wished we would have gotten that Age of Abundance/Compassion man). I am not mad that he is apparently a puppets and that miquella is apparently the villain from the shadows. I'm mad that they hyped this DLC up so hard, using Miquella's character, which they know to be shrouded in mystery and HYPE, made it appear that we may have the chance to join him/get betrayed by him, made people belief he SPECIFALLY seeks out the tarnished or multiple tarnished at once (to help him?)- that he is the central figure of this DLC when he is not. And thats not an underestimation.

Miquella, most fearsome of the Empyreans, the 'father' of the Halligtree, beloved by near all, who "[...]wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. (There is nothing more terrifying.)" - does not even have his own bossfight.

No, he is basically just a cape for a boss we already fought to a DLC that costs 40€. He is in the promotion arc, he is said to be a central figure, he is said to be the fearsome empyrean of all. One thing he isnt? Apparently worth the time of day.

I am ok with Miquella being turned into a villain, I am not ok with Miquella being turned into a joke.

There were so so many roads they could have taken with him, he was PROMISING in every regard.

Want to make him a Villain? Fine the reason can be:

=> Manipulation/Enchanting for people to love him (to ensure someone will always look out for him)

-not absolutely evil per say- and it makes sense that someone who is stuck in the body of a child might want to count on many people rather then one person to protect them = it is his weapon to wield affection

- still takes away free will, even consent to some degree

=> Formless mothers influence

- do i even need to explain this one lmao

- already thousands of theories before this DLC thought that miquella might have been negatively influenced by her- especially when so many things in this Game revolve around blood and the power of it

=> "for the greater good" ahh ending

- 'the means justify the end' mentality (maybe even allign with the manipulation and enchanting)

-would be a similar situation to ranni and could mirror it- not the best but also not horrible

=> St. Trina is Miquella's Radagon

- Miquella splitting slowly with the golden order & turning his back to the easier path & planning behind the shadows to change how Things have been? Yeah maybe St. Trina could have been to Miquella what Radagon was to Marika (a guard dog, keeping her checked (sry but i genuinely believe Radagon returned bc Marika started to stray)).

-could also have explored how marika had to deal with it & her relationship to her other self => player could maybe decide who they wished to serve

=> the curse drives mad

- being stuck in the body of a child when you are a grown adult mentally is pure eldritch horror imo, it is not only physically but chances are high it could cause deeper psychological issues

- when grief drove marika mad it can drive miquella mad to that despite everything he does, being so prodigal, does not help and helplessness of it all too

- bc no one can help and no one can understand him

- he is stuck in a body that is his, and yet its the body of a past him, something he should have outgrown, something that belongs to the past- and (IMO) he can not fight truly in his body, not even to defend himself- having to constantly rely on people for your protection when you are an incredible independent creature? Horrible

- while not the most climatic- would it be truly unthinkable that miquella maybe just..gave up? That it drove him mad with grief to realize he spends his life searching for a cure that might not even exist?

- again thats more then a 'what if' then realistic like the rest of the list but i just love the horror adult mind child body

Want to make him a good guy? Fine the reason can be:

=> He is described so. He knew that he would be the next god & took responsibility.

- Miquella created the Haligtree, feed by his OWN blood (which takes far longer and more energy then just using bodies) or all that are rejected by the golden order, he is compassionate & kind. He is protective and by gods above he does want to help, he does break away from the golden order when he realizes they are not what they seem

-With ranni not wanting to become the successor and Malenia cursed with the rot it only leaves Miquella open, he would have been aware of it

- He is already a 'big' brother, caring for malenia, caring for all who were considered Misfits such as the Albinauric & Misbegotten, providing a sanctuary and hope

- Miquella is described as kind, as compassionate someone who basically does wish to bring a change and is ready to self sacrifice for the better

There are many more but guys im so so tired and need to nap. In short: its incredible to me how you can make a Character that had potential for all possible sides (good, evil, inbetween) so bland, his arc and journey feel like white toastbread, his relationship to his beloved sister malenia seems fake, he doesnt appear to be an adult trapped in a body of a child but as simply put an idiot who is all about "me me me me" & then doesnt even get a bossfight.

Im not mad it was written, i am made there was zero thought or reasoning put behind it, when there were so so many options to make it good. Its sorta fascinating that somehow no one likes this ending, not the Radahn Fans, Nor the Miquella or Malenia Fans..idk man. Having feelings about this.

Also im really bummed we didnt get a cutscene were the tarnished touches Miquella's arm to travel like- man.

Also sorry for the grammar/spelling or maybe even logic errors i just needed to vent ngl

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; best friend's dad | John Price x Reader infidelity. age gap.

He breaks your heart in Greece. Cuts a jagged line down your middle. Spills your wet, sticky blood over the Naxian marble outside of the Temple of Apollo with just a handful of words.

(fitting, you find: you've always considered your aimless pursuit to his heart some bastardised delusion akin to Icarus chasing the immovable sun—)

And you suppose it's kind. Or as gentle as a man like him could ever let himself be. Still gruff, surly. But you've always loved the sound of his voice, haven't you? That sarky growl reminding you of classic muscle cars, American-made; the low, gritty purr of an old Mustang. Enough to make you shiver, even as he's shaping it around these awful, cutting words. It makes you heart flutter, enraptured as he speaks like he's ripping a bandaid off.

Except that now that wound is being filled with salt. Acid. Cauterising itself from the friction burn when the gauze is wrenched off your skin. A permanent scar right in your sternum. A gaping hole spilling all the ugliness out. You wonder if he cares that it's being slashed across his shoes—no sandals, he griped when you teased him in the airport; I hate the feelin' of sand between my toes—that this madness inside of you is finding a home on the hot pavement, rotting under the summer's sun.

"m'thinkin' about marryin' her."

The her in question is ten years older than him. Pettily, you wonder if this is to compensate for the fact that he's nearly two decades older than you. An obscene age gap, you know. But—

It's Price.

Your best friend's dad. The man you've been in love with since you were sixteen. Falling all over yourself after a dumb boy broke your heart, and he offered to drive you home, silent the whole way there before he stopped, a block away from your house, and told you that boys weren't worth your time. Boys. Boys—

Not men.

Foolishly, you let yourself hope. Let yourself become the very thing they talk about in TikTok videos lambasting age gaps and silly little girls who let older men run them into the ground. Why would a man his age have any reason to be interested in a girl yours? Sickening. Disgusting. You're being lead stray, groomed. But you clung to it still, even as you thumbed through the comments on those videos and found pieces of yourself lying among the rubble.

You've always known what they say about girls like that. And you were just delusional enough to believe that you were different somehow.

And now—

"Gettin' older," he grouses out, and you wonder if she finds the ornery lilt to his cadence as comforting as you do. Or if it rubs her all the wrong ways. "Might be time to settle down."

Shamefully, you wish he'd say, but maybe you can convince me otherwise, climb into my lap, and eat this decision from between my teeth until all I see when I open my eyes is you.

But that's not the John Price you know. Mr Price. Single dad. Widower. Untouchable.

Mr Price who sees you for what you are—smarter than them, he'd said when you broke down in his Bronco after a softball game where everyone, your best friend included, went to an afterparty that no one invited you to.

Quiet, thoughtful, even when you spent the evening afterwards (the fight hashed out between your best friend and you; i'm so sorry and me too) thumbing through old vinyl records he kept in his basement, listening to the classics that kids your age just didn't understand, so why the fuck do you?

Weekends spent bonding over golden cinema (movies just ain't what they used to be; there's no romance anymore, it's all so—vapid; you don't talk like a kid; i've never considered myself one, do you? he didn't answer. you didn't expect him to). Listening to music older than your dad. Niche jokes and texts that read like I saw this and thought of you.

Your fault, of course, for thinking you could trick him into loving you if you played your feelings through Johnny Cash, Vashti Bunyan, Fleetwood Mac, and Smokey Robinson. An impossibility you know now.

Mr Price who knows you. Who sees through the thin skin you wear and into the heart, the core of you. Who must have known since you called him in the pouring rain to pick you up when you got too drunk to drive home. A house party in the suburbs. Waterlogged flats he told you to toss.

Said nothing at all when you apologised with your head pressed against the foggy glass. You never told him that your sorry, Mr Price was for kissing a boy and wishing it was him.

But he must have known.

open book. pages spilling out. silly little girl with your heart cupped in your palm—

So he knows. Has known. Hindsight says this is him letting you down gently before you get any ideas about forever with your diploma tucked into your chest like a shield. A trip to Greece with your best friend and her dad to celebrate the rest of your life looming over you like a thundercloud. Your eye slanting sideways, glancing yearningly back at him.

sorry, but no. look the other way—

And you think fine, fine, whatever, so long as this doesn't hurt anymore—but what comes out is, "oh."

What follows is this:

He says he's thinking about marrying her with his hands tucked tight under his arms. He tells you he wants to settle down with his chin tucked against his chest, four lines rucked across the pinch of his brow. An emphasis, perhaps, on just how serious he is.

You taste salt in your throat. Sand between your toes. The sun blisters against the thin straps of this pretty blue dress that match the melting sapphire of his burning gaze. It's heatsickness, maybe. Or just all the years of want building and building, festering and growing, until it can't climb any higher—forever reaching for god that won't spare you a glance—and—

falling down around you. wings of beeswax and bird feathers.

Solemn, he says, "it's what I should do."

(i saw this and thought of you—)

Your fingers knot into the soft cotton of his dress shirt, pulling the fabric taut between your knuckles until it peels back from the seams, curling between buttons.

You've had too much to drink. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. Somewhere along the walk to the temple, you snatched a puff of his cigar, the nicotine blooming between your teeth. Head full of cotton too thick for you to think. To retreat.

In the morning, when he refuses to look at you, you'll blame it on the drinks. On the sun. On being young and dumb and untouchable under the Greecian sky.

Daddy issues, you can shrug. You have the diagnoses from every single TikTok psychologist embedded between your teeth. See, mine never loved me and now I'm taking it out on you—

But right now, you kiss him.

Or maybe—

Maybe he kisses you.

It's a mess in your head. Everything turned upside down, all askew because when your lips touch his, he shudders. His chest rumbles under your fingers, expanding with the sudden inhale as he breathes you in. Deep. Takes you into his lungs—all salt-slick, and sunburnt—and groans low in his throat, all want. All heat.

He should push you away. He's your best friend's father. Two decades older than you. Dating another woman who's so far removed from the person you are that she might as well be a different species. Mature. Stoic. Poised. Graceful.

The perfect antithesis to you.

Everything about this must be ringing shrill in his ears: abort, abort, do not engage. He should push you off.

And he does.

After a moment of your greedy, unpractised kisses pepper along the bristles hanging low over his lips, he makes another sound. Angry. Whitehot. His hands slip free from the damp prison of his armpits and latch tight onto you. Thick, hirsute fingers curling over your upper arms, and pushing, shoving—

Your back hits the marble pillar. The air in your lungs punched out.

But when you try to siphon more balmy air into them again, you find an obstacle in your way.

His mouth.

Searing, blistering. Slanting hungrily across yours, devouring. Intense, dizzying. Your head cracks against the wall when he shoves his thigh between the silken softness of your inner thighs, blanketed by the dress that made him swallow when he first saw you in it, eyes darkening like a storm.

(bit short, ain't it? he'd groused, and your friend slipped her hand into yours with a huff. stop being such a dad, dad—)

It slots there now like it's owed the right. Thick thigh spreading yours apart on a gasp, a groan. Corded muscle pressed taut to the seam of you that burns hot. Melted wax. Dripping against his leg. He must feel the way he liquifies you, turns you into putty. It drags a sound his chest. The misfire of an engine.

"Fuck," he breathes, all teeth. Salt. He should be saying, no, stop. go back to your hotel room, and we'll pretend this never happened, silly girl. But he pulls you closer instead, his hand looping around to cradle the back of your tender head in the cup of his palm. A small comfort as he delves his tongue between your teeth. "Makin' me lose my goddamn mind—"

The words are growled against your mouth. You taste the tobacco-smoked fury between his teeth when they sink into your lower lip. Angry, maybe, that you're making him do this. That you had to be who you are, and despite that, he kisses you like you're not.

"Price," you whine, arching into his chest when he pulls at your bottom lip still caught between his teeth. Skin tender, bruised. He ruts into you at the sound, nearly purring. You feel it then. The hard press of his thickening cock against you. Mindlessly gyrating against your hip. The turgid length proof of his desire. His want for you. All you. "Please—"

He folds himself over you. Tucks you into the bracket of his chest, his arms. His fingers are iron bars on your skin, holding you tight to him. Unwilling to let go. His hand on your crown; his fingers gripping your thigh, hiking it up his waist. It's good. Better than all of your meagre fantasies combined. You've wanted this since you knew what want was. When he wandered into the kitchen the morning after a sleepover with a towel slung loose around his hips, his hand scrubbing the damness from the wet tangle of his hair, spilling them down his neck where they disappeared into the thick bed of hair on his chest, his belly.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you sitting at the island, eyes wide and drilling holes into his chest.

"Shit," he'd cussed, gruff and mean with sleep. "Didn't think—"

But you did. Over and over again. With your face pressed against your pillow, fingers shoved into the sticky wetness leaking out of your cunt. Thinking of him. Wrong. Wrong. Terrible—

Dad bod, your friend said with a cluck of her tongue that afternoon. And you feel it under your fists as he heaves. As he eats you alive, whole. Because kissing John Price, Mr Price, is a whirlwind. A maelstrom.

He devours. He conquers. He owns.

He licks into your mouth, petting over your tongue, your teeth, until you can't remember anything else except the tobacco and whiskey tang of him. Heady. An elixir you want to sip from for the rest of your life. Damn him—

He tells you he's thinking about marrying someone else. Then whispers, ash-soft, against your chin that he can't get enough of you.

Grunts, "you need to go," as he sinks his teeth down, hard, into the throbbing skin of your pulse. Laying claim as he slowly comes to.

The coarse hair of his beard rubs your flesh raw when he buries his face into your neck. You can feel the thunder of his heart against the knob of your wrist. The heat of his skin burning through you.

"Fuck," he rumbles again, and you know this time it's for good. Ironclad. But the remorse is paperthin. "Shouldn't have done that, should have—"

"I want you," you whisper through bruised, kiss-bitten lips. "I want you so bad. I loved you since I was—"

"Don't."

The sweat beading along his hairline smears across the naked arch of your shoulder and neck when he moves; a shallow shake of his head. Muted and small. Heavy with reluctance.

The man who meets you when he pulls back is frowning with wet, red-stained lips. His eyes are hardened sapphire reinforced with unbreakable obsidian. There's no inch to move. No cracks to squeeze through.

"This—" he swallows. You hope he tastes you still. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. The drag of his cigar, the one he coached you through, scoffing when you choked, when you cough. You hope he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes nothing but you. "This shouldn't have happened."

You don't say anything. Can't. The words are staining his lips.

You nod, slow. Cautious. He tells you he's marrying someone else. Thinking about it. Says this shouldn't have happened—

But he holds you like he can't bring himself to let go. Fingers clutching, clenching tight around you. Possessive. Greedy, even he as he slowly unspools from around you. As he pulls away, scouring his hand down his face with a deep, ragged inhale. Rough, worn fingers digging into his jaw until the knuckles under a dense cropping of umber hair turn white, nails pinking under the strain.

"This isn't—"

You nod again. Soft and slow, but you let your tongue flicker out, chasing the smoke drying on your swollen lips. It stings. The burn makes you think of him. Of his hot, heavy hands on your skin.

His eyes drop down to follow the slip of red that teases out between your teeth, blackening as they trace the new wetness left behind. You can feel him twitch against your thigh.

Your name is a broken snarl trapped in the thick of his throat. You've never heard it like that. Never. It does something. Lights you up from the inside out. Supernova in his arms. Icarus burning, crashing down to earth—

Catch me, Apollo—

He pulls away instead. Detaches from you with a heavy groan, as if the distance that now sits between you hurts him just as much.

The silence is broken by the sound of the crowd just beyond the pillar. You can see the moment it settles over him in the flattening of his eyes, the erasure of all affection that bloomed bright in blue. The terse set to his shoulders. The distance, the space, that grows and grows and grows—

He clears his throat. Mr Price once more. Untouchable. Off-limits.

"You should go," he says, and there's not an ounce of give in the rough flatline of his voice. Fixed. Firm. "You should go back to your hotel room. Come on. I'll call you a taxi."

"And you?"

He sucks in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Don't worry about me. Just—go back to the hotel room. We can—we'll talk in the morning."

"Where'd you?" She asks when you crawl into bed, the starchy sheets rubbing against your sunbitten skin.

There is a deluge of things you want to say. Things like—

I'm sorry. I love him. I—

can't let go.

"I think I just got my heart broken," you say instead, and wonder when the tears are supposed to come. At the wedding, maybe. But right now, you just feel numb. Empty.

The bed creaks when she rolls over, facing you in the dark. "Really? Didn't know you were, you know, foolin' around with anyone."

"I wasn't. It's—" your dad. But you can't say that, can you?

There's something painfully nostalgic about loving a man you're not supposed to want. A man who cannot, should not, want you back. An unrequited love in a foreign land. Unconsummated in the summer's heart. Sticky, bittersweet heartbreak.

Or, that's what it's supposed to be.

They are not John Price, though. Your best friend's dad. And they didn't kiss you back—

But he did.

And you think it's the worst thing he could have ever done.

[an0nymousmessenger]

When the Sun Rises Again

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: In which you see a familiar boy with a mannequin at a park after saving the world. Word Count: 2.7k tags. Fluff, Comfort, s4 epilogue continued, more than friends less than lovers A/n: A little continuation of the epilogue of when you see Delores in the end credits with an unidentified person ao3 link

On August 8, 2024, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. It would be no exaggeration to say that this day was completely normal. The sun was shining, and the weather was the best it had been in a long time.

The wind blew gently, rustling the nearby trees and bushes in this small sanctuary.

It was a nice afternoon in August, perfect for people enjoying their outings at a small, lesser-known park. Picnics dotted the grassy areas, and people strolled together, enjoying each other's company.

Laughter filled the air as children chased each other in a harmless game of tag. A couple walked their dog, deep in conversation. Nearby, a man led a meditation session among a group, while a woman sat with her daughter, braiding her hair.

The moment seemed fragile and almost unreal, at least to the eyes of the newcomer. It was a tranquility you weren’t quite used to, and you found yourself struggling to take it all in. Still, you continued forward, focused on one main objective.

You passed the meditating group, the mother and daughter, and many other familiar faces you didn't dare acknowledge. Everything seemed to slow, as if memories from a past time were beginning to overlap.

In the midst of all this, by a rather old but beautiful tree, a few gentle marigolds grew from within the ground, sprouting out enchantingly, showing off their petals to the world. They shined golden, and perhaps with a little magic too.

You took your hands in the pockets of your light jacket as you walked casually with your new sneakers through the grass.

Eventually, you stopped in your tracks, and stared at a specific pair, glowing in the summer’s light. You hesitated, your breath caught up in your throat as some unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in your chest, threatening to overspill.

You wondered if it would be okay to disturb them, questioning whether you should just stay still and take in the scene a little longer. Just for a while. After all, time was on your side this time.

You squinted, fighting against the bright summer glare.

You looked onward, afraid that if you closed your eyes even for a second, the scene in front of you would disappear—that the feeling of the wind and sun had been just your imagination. That the boy sitting there with a gentle expression, one you’d only seen a few times in your life, would vanish with the wind. Fleeting, and brief.

As if he were never there.

A sweet but deceiving dream.

Even if it were a dream, you would be satisfied because, to you, everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.

But alas, the tangy summer scent was real, and the reality you were currently walking through was undeniably real.

So incredibly real.

It was terrifying.

The sun’s warmth shone generously on the pair—a boy who seemed to be in his teens, accompanied by a rather unique mannequin that only had its upper body. They sat at a plain table, enjoying each other’s company.

The boy held a newspaper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. Another cup sat by an empty seat, while the mannequin rested by a nearby tree.

At first glance, it almost seemed as if the two were having a pleasant conversation. The boy looked relieved, his shoulders relaxed, legs crossed in comfort as his dark eyes browsed the weekly news.

It seemed as if he had no worries on his mind, no stress or problems weighing on him. Although his eyes still carried that tired look. It was a look not commonly found in the kids his age. Some would even go on to suggest his eyes give off the feeling the boy was much older than he let on.

But even if that were true, they had nothing to prove such a statement.

You took in this sight with a little sigh, a mental click, as if forcing yourself to capture this moment and lock it away in your heart, hiding it carefully from the world before anything else tried to take it away.

Just in case.

Just for safe measure.

You looked around again before making your way toward the empty seat opposite the newspaper-reading boy. He wore a plain white collared shirt, the top buttons undone, paired with simple dark shorts, giving him a youthful yet old-fashioned look.

As you approached, the boy noticed you and looked up, raising a questioning brow, which greatly amused you.

You gave a small smile before asking in a rather level voice, “Is anyone sitting here?”

“Well, it’s not exactly occupied, now is it?”

A familiar tone of dryness, tinted with a grain of sarcasm, dripped from the boy’s reply.

Your smile grew as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and gestured toward the seat. “Then do you mind?”

The boy, usually armed with harsh and sharp remarks, shook his head.

You sat down and picked up the cup, noticing that it contained your favorite drink, as if the boy in front of you knew something you didn’t. As if he had almost expected you to come and find him.

You brought the cup to your mouth, took a sip, then another, before gingerly setting it down back upon the table, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. Then, you took another look around.

This time, your attention was mainly on the boy in front of you, who seemed a little out of place in such a peaceful setting. The wind gently tousled his hair and rustled his shirt, causing him to clutch the newspaper a little tighter, pretending to be uninterested.

You decided to also pretend you didn’t notice his occasional glances toward you. You pretended you didn’t notice the searching look in his eyes, a habit he tended to have when he hadn’t seen you in a while. A habit of his that you would keep to yourself, hidden away from the dangers of the world.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

The boy sighed, looking away while taking a sip of his black coffee. “If you say so.”

You leaned against the table, one arm supporting one side of your face as you put on what he dubbed your ‘shit-eating grin’. “Why don’t you play with the kids over there? You know, kids your age.”

With a sharp, unamused glare, he responded, "I'd rather chew on concrete," his voice flat and unamused.

You huffed in your seat. “Somehow, even on such a nice day, you still manage to make it old and boring.”

"Maybe if you raised your standards, you’d actually appreciate reading the newspaper and having a simple drink while at it. But I won’t hold my breath."

“Prick.”

“Amateur.”

You sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Hey, says the one who looks like a–”

“One more word and I’ll have you up in that tree over there.”

“...”

You smirked, leaning in. “As if you could stand being apart from my charming company.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Aren’t we full of ourselves today?”

“What? Can’t I enjoy myself on such a lovely morning?”

He scoffed, glancing away from your teasing expression, and mumbled under his breath, “I suppose some people have to.”

You look at the boy, the way he was looking away from you as the tips of his ears turn a slight red. You twirl the cup in your hands that contains your preferred drink, the one you usually order when out and about, and can’t help but think to yourself:

What a liar.

Though, you guess you’ll cut the boy some slack, he after all has worked quite hard for way too many years to count. You’ll let him have this one, just this one.

And so, instead of teasing him anymore, you rest your hand on your elbows and stare at the scenery of the park, soaking in his presence and the fact that he is finally here with you.

He was here safe and sound.

Ah. You suppose you were both liars.

“You're doing it again,” spoke the boy out of the blue.

You turned towards him with a cheeky smile, “What exactly am I doing?”

“That ridiculous face.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “Bleh,”

He gave you a disgusted look as if he couldn’t believe you’d done something so childish, but you couldn’t care less. After everything you’d both been through, you deserved to indulge in such small matters.

Certainly, it was not the end of the world, was it?

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “I can’t believe I somehow have to put up with you…”

And yet, he made no attempt to move. Instead, he seemed to settle even more comfortably into his park chair.

You paused for a moment, taking in his ��I’m seriously done with you’ expression before adding, “Yeah, and I’m a grumpy teenager who’s emotionally constipated in apparently every timeline.”

The boy shot you an unamused glare. “I'm not.”

"Yeah, you are."

"Idiot."

His retort was lacking in bite, something you’d come to recognize as his way of showing that he couldn’t find anything harsher to say.

“Fine! Then ask her,” you said, pointing at the mannequin beside him.

The boy let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to your antics, before turning toward the object of your pointing.

“Delores doesn’t think so.”

"Oh yeah? Is that what she really said?"

He put on a sly grin. "Why don't you ask her yourself and find out?"

You turned toward the mannequin, playing along. "Has he been mistreating you while I've been away?"

He took a sharp breath, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "How dare you insinuate such an outrageous—"

“Oh, you’ll live,” you muttered as you took another sip from the cup.

“Prick.”

“Ass.”

“Annoying.”

“...”

You and he shared a small staring contest before you broke into a fit of laughter. The childish insults hadn’t been lost on either of you despite the years. Even with his usual sharp and witty remarks, it seemed that your banter had devolved into a playful exchange, bringing you both back to simpler times.

He looked at you with an exasperated expression, but couldn’t hide the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.

But of course, you were unable to see this, too caught up in your own little laugh. This also caused you to miss the way he had briefly looked at you, as if he too were saving this moment in his mind, causing his usually sharp persona to soften, if only slightly. He’d never admit it, not in a hundred years.

The laughter died down, and you noticed the silence that settled over you. You looked up at the boy, finding him already looking at you. A comfortable silence enveloped the three of you, including the mannequin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft smile.

And he looked at your smile, one that he would never tell you that it made him want to look away as a burning feeling crept up his ears. He’ll never tell you he noticed the light in your eyes as you did so, the way your eyes looked at him made him feel some sort of way. He’ll never tell you it was that smile, along with everything else, that had him crawling through time to get back to you, to see it again.

To see you and his family again, alive and well.

He’ll never tell you that he missed that smile, and he often wondered when he would see it again. He would never tell you that he had gone to your favorite coffee shop and bought two drinks instead of one, he’ll never tell you he had been sitting here all morning, waiting.

Instead, you two simply shared the silence in the distance.

Perhaps at another time, you would do something about this silence, you would reach out, and touch upon all the things you two were too afraid to say.

Perhaps one day, this silence would allow the two of you to be vulnerable without hesitation and caution. And perhaps one day, you’ll be able to reach over to take and take his hand in yours, to invite him to dance with you in the late of night or rain. You’ll both wear a smile, perhaps a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless, and you’ll both be listening to the best 90s bangers of the ages on an old record player.

But at least for today, the two of you will take your time.

Because today, you’d enjoy each other’s presence and the trivial banter. After all, you had all the time in the world.

It had been a while since you last bickered with the boy, much less joked and laughed. It was nice. 

Really nice.

Was it sad to say that this was all you ever wanted? To sit down, share a drink, and talk about useless and stupid things? That you wouldn’t trade this for the world, that you would fight to keep this moment in your hands.

The boy looked back at you before straightening his newspaper, effectively regaining your attention.

“Stop zoning out.”

“My bad.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of how he didn’t go through all that shit just for you to start staring into space and feeling sad or whatnot.

Your foot brushed against his for a brief moment. At first, you meant to pull it back, but instead, you left it there to gauge his reaction. He didn’t move his foot away, and you couldn’t tell if he was ignoring it or deliberately letting it stay there.

You stare at him, silently, before a question tumbles its way from your mind and to your lips, “Are you happy?”

The question lingered in the air between the two of you, like an untouched subject that none of you had dared to ask in the past. It was out of reach back then, and there had been much more pressing things to be worrying about.

And maybe, just maybe, that between you and him, one of these days you can truly rest. It’ll be a day just like today, and the distance between the two of you will be like a distant memory, and you can once again lean on him, as you had always done, and he can melt into you, as he had once done before.

The boy looked away from you and into the distance, observing the lively park as the sun enveloped him in the warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Nothing was out of the ordinary—if you didn’t count the teenage-looking boy drinking coffee with his mannequin and the newspaper he was reading in the middle of a park.

He looked down and smiled, the sun gently caressing his features as a genuine smile graced his face, but of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t try to hide it as he answered in a soft uncharacteristic voice, “Yeah…yeah I am.”

You looked at him, seeing the way he was trying to hide his emotions, and rolled your eyes. It seemed no matter the time or place, he was still the same, and for that, you couldn’t have asked for more.

Perhaps, in a way, this meant the future was bright. That a time would come when this tranquility, so unfamiliar now, would become all you know. Even if today was just the beginning.

You took another sip from the cup and smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Extra.

"Hey, you should tell me where you got these drinks."

"What now?"

He rolled his eyes, feigning uninterest.

"Seriously! I know you bought these for me."

He continued flipping through the pages of the newspapers.

"Oh, did I? And what if I said they’re for Delores?"

You held up the drink.

"Delores prefers lattes, not this."

"Does she? How fascinating."

"Prick!"

He set the newspaper aside and gave you an amused look.

“Fine. I’ll take you there next time. Happy now?”

You don’t point out that this was his way of admitting he did buy the drinks with you in mind, but you’re too content to press the issue. You decided to let him off the hook... again.

[golden-hearts-silver-tongues-if]

Demo: (Release Date: when i figure out twine, and then a week)

Life was never easy, but the day you first found your talent for less than legal practices, it certainly got easier. And when you finally got taken in by a nosy noble who could appreciate your talents, life finally seemed like it was looking up. But the highlife isn't all it was cracked out to be. You had to leave behind your best friend for this chance at the high life, and that's not even to mention all the enemies you've made while in service of the person who brought you in. Was it worth it? Can you keep your skeletons nice and tidy in your closet? Or will the past prove to have a few too many chips on its shoulder. ------------- This is a game about many things. Struggling to find meaning in your own life, trying to cling to those you care about as life drags you apart, and what can happen when you don't make peace before the storm. You take on the role of a peasant with a talent for the illegal, be that quick hands or a quicker wit. After years of dealing with the dirt of life to make a living, you get taken in (read, bought into service) of a noble who claims to have nothing but good intentions. They want to expose other nobility for their wrongdoings while climbing the ranks themselves. Will you be willing to remain loyal to their cause, or is money truly the only thing motivating you? That remains up to you to decide. Golden Hearts, Silver Tongues is rated 18+ for explicit language, mature themes, drug and alcohol use and abuse, violence, thoughts and mentions of suicide, self-harm, death and mental trauma. -------------

Customizable MC, choose your gender, pronouns, appearance, sexuality, romantic attraction, personality, history with some characters, potential disabilities, and most importantly, how you choose to go about your crimes. Are you a smooth talker, or someone who prefers actions over words?

Romance one of four available ROs? Will you fall back to your tumultuous Ex/Ex Best Friend? Or perhaps your new coworker or Boss? Or perhaps the most dangerous, the Ex-Noble hunting you down?

Struggle with Morality as you get pulled in different directions. What constitutes good anyways? And let's be honest, do you even care about being good at this point?

Resolve all of your lingering issue, before choosing how to move forwards. To remain trapped by the chains of your past, or to cast it all off and move forwards, unburdened. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

-------------

Romance Options:

The Rival (F, Cis or Trans selectable) - Your one and only friend in the early days of your life, and perhaps something more? You two grew up together and often were the only ones each other had. Perhaps she was your best friend, your lover, or someone you were so close to you could consider them family. Regardless, whatever she was, she isn't anymore. A fight caused a rift between you two, and now you two aren't on talking terms, much less anything else. So, when she shows up to one of your jobs, to steal the same items no less, is it any surprise things don't go well? Tropes - Exes to Lovers, Childhood Crush, Exfriends to Lovers, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers

The Boss (M, F, NB selectable) - The person who scooped you off the streets and showed you what the high life was like, and all you had to do was steal whatever they told you. Simple enough, right? You'd think. In practice, it seems like they keep upping the ante on your targets and at some point, you have to wonder whether or not this is all born out of good intentions. Though, with the looks they keep sending your way, perhaps more than just your skills have captivated them? No, that couldn't be true. After all, a noble and a peasant would cause far too much of an uproar for the already tumultuous figure that is your boss. Right? Gender Footnote - If NB, the Boss will be Agender. Tropes - Forbidden Love, Age Gap, Nobility x Peasant, Employer x Employee

The Coworker (M, Cis or Trans selectable) - A surprise your boss sprung on you just a few months ago, he is another noble who embraced your Boss' rhetoric and now wants to help reveal the darker side of the Kingdom. It's a shame he doesn't know what he's doing, but luckily (or unluckily), that is where you come in. Tasked to show him the ropes of thieving, you must figure out how to teach this eager learner what you've known all your life. He might not have quick hands, nor can he lie to save his life, but if there's one thing, he knows it's how to get up after a failure. And that surely has no correlation to all the gifts of his you've ignored over the years, right? Tropes - Coworkers to Lovers, Master x Apprentice, First Crush, Himbo, Potentially Grumpy x Sunshine

The Baron (M, F, NB selectable) - Hate is a strong word. Luckily, the Baron is a strong person. The first major noble your Boss ever sent you after, they by far had the hardest fall from grace out of anyone you know. Going from ruling an entire quarter of the Kingdom, to being nothing more than a rogue knight hunting you down for revenge. It's a shame they still have so much money at their disposal to hunt you with, and for all that it's worth, they are very good at finding you. Catching you, not so much. You always manage to just barely evade their capture....surely nothing to think about. Gender Footnote - If NB, the Baron will be Genderfluid. Tropes - Hate-Hate Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Murder makes people hot, Villian Route, Potentially Redemption Arc

------------- Note Zone: Hey there! Thanks for reading all the way through this. This little place down here is where I plan on placing things like links in the future, and also any notes on progress or big topics and stuff that comes up. For now, all asks are welcomed, and once again thank you!

[sex-storytime]

Best Friend

The door was unlocked when I reached the front of the new house. It was small, very small for a family of five, but I was thankful my best friend hadn't moved away. We had been friends since the first day of school and, to be honest, I had nobody else.

“Sophie?” I called out, having been invited over but not wanting to just barge into her house.

"It’s open, Jeff. Come in." Came her sing song reply, “I’m in my room, first door at the top of the stairs…” she continued, clearly exerting herself in some way.

I walked up the stairs to see the bedroom door was open and my best friend, Sophie, was lying on the floor. She was on her stomach, wearing only a t-shirt and panties. She had a pillow under her groin, folded at the corner. She held herself in a backwards arch, like doing a cobra pose in yoga. Her body trembled with effort. Her cute, round face was cherry red. Her light blue eyes glazed over and oddly empty.

What she was doing completely blew my mind. I'd been lost in my own world, walking down the hall, when Sophie said my name once more. It was a hot day, summer was just getting started, and I was already suffering under the sad reality that the house didn't have air conditioning. My minimal outfit of a t-shirt and mesh shorts felt like a full, fur coat.

"You should… Try this," she gasped, "Feels really good." She took a deep breath and collapsed flat on the floor. "Fuck." The word slipped out of her. Her long, golden blonde hair pooled around her head.

I stared at her as she lost herself for a moment. My friend's skimpy outfit revealed way more of her curvy body and tan skin than I was used to seeing. Her breasts looked particularly large in her baby blue v-neck. Her full butt was similarly flattered by her yellow, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie came back to consciousness. "Didn’t you hear me? Seriously, Jeff, come over here," she said, an edge of annoyance in her voice.

Tentatively, I stepped inside her doorframe.

"What's up?" I asked, playing dumb.

As a young man, the same age as Sophie, I knew what masturbation looked like, but I'd never seen anyone do it that way with a pillow. I was still a virgin and I knew Sophie was too. I certainly wasn't prepared for Sophie to openly share something so intimate with me.

Sophie and I had always been close. Unlike our friends who seemed to be suffocated by their close relationships -- fighting each other for air -- Sophie and I both basked in our shared spaces. We were playmates as kids and confidants as teens. I told my best friend nearly everything and had an easy expectation that she would do the same.

But we weren't, you know… Like this!

It was awkward when we watched a movie, and a sex scene came on. I felt uncomfortable helping fold Sophie's underwear when we did the laundry. Sophie had a nice body because she was super curvy and stuff. But I didn't, like, sneak on her in the shower or ogle at her bathing suit.

We were, you know, people. Until that random afternoon when my best friend called me into her bedroom while she was grinding her pussy against a pillow.

"Come on, we need to do this together. Try this with me," Sophie said. She wiggled her butt purposefully, clearly starting her process all over again.

"You mean, like, lying on the ground… pretending to…?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Sophie said. She looked up at me, her face pink and sweaty with exertion. "You put a pillow down. And you lie on top of it. Then you kind of press down. You know? Feels awesome. It’s not sex, Jeff!"

I can't say why I listened. It should have been weird -- OK, it was weird -- but for whatever reason I treated it more like my best friend was inviting me to try a new game or watch a movie. Gingerly, I stepped into her bedroom. Like me, Sophie was a bit of a geek. She had a flatscreen TV with a couple consoles attached. Her tan bedroom walls had posters from Breath of the Wild and Animal Crossing. Her room was a peaceful, welcoming place.

But in the moment, it felt almost foreboding. Like the air itself was all charged up. As soon as I stepped inside, I was hit with the scent of Sophie's honey-sweet perfume mixed with something else; instinctively familiar.

"Grab the one from my bed," Sophie said, breathily.

I took the pillow -- a sad, floppy, lime green thing whose filling had fled long ago -- and dropped it on the ground. I fluffed the pillow as best I could, then lay down on top of it. I adjusted myself till I had my genitals in what seemed like the right place.

"There you go," Sophie said, "Now just..." Instead of saying it, she did it. Arched herself again. Her wide hips swiveled slightly back and forth on the pillow. Again, I became very aware of her body. Her broad shoulders and long arms. Large breasts and bubble butt. Pretty face and light, sparkling sapphire eyes.

I tried to mirror the blonde teen. I pressed down into the pillow and wiggled a little. And, amazingly -- despite the fact that we were working with very different equipment -- I could kind of see what Sophie was getting at. Like catching a glimpse of a mirage from the far side of the desert.

There were a few problems that kept me from getting closer, however. One, the pillow made things too soft. For Sophie, the cushion gave her something to rub against. For me though, I got the sense that I needed something firmer. Honestly, the bare floor would probably have been fine!

But, ironically, the other problem was that I was massively turned on. The smell of my best friend’s pheromones… that agonizing look of ecstasy on her face… my penis erect and throbbing. Everything around me -- Sophie, what she was doing, what she invited me to do -- had led to the inevitable reaction. At any other time, an erection was the perfect way to start getting myself off. But not like this. Some instinctual part of me knew that if my cock was softer, it would be easier to press against the ground and, theoretically, might feel nice.

I looked over at Sophie. Unintentionally, we'd ended up facing each other. Quite close. I could see every detail of Sophie's face, screwed up with effort. She was clearly building toward another release. She clenched, held, then flopped in a strained, desperate rhythm. Over and over, like an odd kind of exercise.

I stayed in place, just lightly pressing down. There was the distant sensation that maybe something could be there, but I knew I wouldn't be able to reach it in the moment. Instead, I sort of teased myself while I watched Sophie take herself down the path to pleasure.

"Nothing?" Sophie asked, suddenly aware that I was staring at her.

"Well… Kinda?" I said, "I get the feeling it might work if some things were different. But not right now."

"Oh, OK," Sophie said, clearly disappointed. "That's too bad. I'm glad you tried it though."

"Me too," I said.

Carefully, I got off the floor. I tossed Sophie's pillow back on her bed. Sophie was still humping her pillow when I left.

I wandered away, feeling shell shocked. My penis was hard and my testicles tinged. I wanted nothing more than to bring myself to an inevitable release… but this was Sophie! My best friend! Unable to remember why I had ventured over to see her in the first place, I headed back home.

________

About an hour later, I was in my bedroom -- sweating my balls off while playing online -- when the thought popped into my head.

I could be doing it right now.

It was a random idea, borne of nothing, as if my subconsciousness had been chewing on this for a while and finally spit it out.

I put the controller to the side. Looked down at the grey carpet. My bedroom door was shut. The distraction of my repeated virtual deaths meant my dick was soft -- exactly where I needed it to be. I slid off my chair and dropped to the ground.

So, I took one of the two pillows from below my head, and I placed it on the centre of the bed. I then removed my blanket, pulled down my pants and released my aching penis free into the coolness of air. At that moment, my penis was like a solid stick dancing to and fro as if it was attached to a spring....

I then quickly climbed over my pillow and placed my penis on its lower edge side. I then covered my naked ass (and most of me, up to my eyes) again with the blanket. Like Sophie had shown me before, I pressed down with my crotch and arched my back. Like lightning, there it was. This was a very different experience than I was used to. This wasn’t like masturbation.

I lay still on my stomach for a few minutes, so as to let my penis feel the softness of the silky pillow.. The feel of the pillow below my steaming hot manhood was like cold water poured over ice... It had such a cooling feel. My body began to writhe, pulling instinctual primal urges from my deep subconceous. My body was trying to re-enact intercourse for the first time.

I was only dimly aware of the way I had been holding the topmost pillow, cradling it as one might a slender lover, the bottom edge trapped beneath my belly and coming against the glans of my turgid organ. Where before I would naturally reach down to clutch my manhood, my hips took over of their own accord, pushing my hardness further into the yielding cushion of the pillow.

Without much thought or effort, I turned flat on my stomach, my erection now lying between the mattress and the pillow. Sophie was right, it felt rather good to be compressed on all sides like that, to be enveloped in such softness. Moving my hips, I thought about how Sophie looked, her tight blue top and those pretty panties she wore. For the first time in my life I saw my best friend as a woman… I wanted so much to get between those slender thighs of hers, and break the final taboo between us.

This masturbation was vastly different from simply stroking off with my hand. Here was full body involvement. My toes digging into the mattress, legs taut, I rocked back and forth in the instinctive unthinking movements of copulation. Hands clutching the bed sheets, I gasped and grunted in a blatantly vocal way, the ecstatic pleasure rising along with my pulse.

Wet trails of pre-cum stained the pillowcase in advance of the inevitable orgasm. No longer in the vague mist of waking dream, I desperately held onto the fantasy of Sophie writhing beneath him, putting aside the nagging concern about what he was actually doing. I felt deliriously out of control, a sensation I never had while teasing and arousing himself by hand. The trigger of my climax was tantalizingly close, and I pushed even harder to tip himself over. I imagined thrusting deep inside Sophie’s virgin pussy, finally despoiling her, making her my own with this most intimate yet violent act. 

It was more work than stroking myself off, but it also felt fantastic in a slightly different way. Because I was lying on my stomach, in some ways it felt more like fucking, because I could imagine someone under me, feeling the same building pleasure.

Just when I felt myself begin to tire, I reached my apex. It had been at least a month since I had cum and my sperm was boiling up inside my balls. I was getting closer and closer to my orgasm and my penis felt impossibly huge. My balls tightened up at the base of my cock. I felt the building pleasure at the end of my penis, and the draining sensation in my thighs. My glans felt so big, and I felt that fullness at the tip, the need to release. 

With muscles tensing all at once, my orgasm overtook me, soon thick gouts of semen would be spilling from my body. I knew I wasn't going to be able to pull out of my makeshift vagina and as my testicles contracted, releasing a heavy load of sperm, the velvety caress of the pillow sheet triggered the start of my orgasm. As I felt the immense pleasure at the end of my penis, I felt my semen run up the length of my shaft. "Oh Sophie!" I groaned.

I felt my thrusts become more urgent and my cock was so hard, ripe and ready. My breath grew ragged, and my bulging penis grew even bigger between the pillows, the massive bulbous head was thrust deep inside and every inch of my massive cock was throbbing violently, pulsing and pumping. 

When I went over the edge it felt like my cock was going to burst… then the spunk rocketed up from my balls and launched violently out of the end of my sensitive glans. The first spurt felt like my entire life force left my body. The feeling was immense, my heart pounded in my chest as my body convulsed and then it felt like I was spurting the entire contents of my balls out of the end of my penis and deep between the pillows. My muscles spasmed, my cock throbbed, and I let my sticky seed jet into my sheets in ever dwindling volleys. The pleasure overwhelmed me. The effort to reach that place had been so much. The orgasm was a wondrous final reward.

Even after the initial euphoria had faded, I lay breathless on the pillows, my softening cock soaking in the sticky wetness of my spent passion. Too soon the spell was over. I rose onto my knees silently cursing the mess I had made to my bedding. It would be one thing if it were just my sheets, but to pump all that slimey man goo into the pillow where I laid my head at night. This would need some tactful cleaning!

I lay on the floor for a while, smelling my carpet. Muscles aching like I'd done an hours' worth of exercise. I drifted in and out of a strange, altered consciousness. Only dimly aware of the world around me until I knew I needed to hide the evidence of my ejaculation. I headed to the shower, still consumed with what I had done. Washing the goo from my genitals, I continued to stroke and caress myself according to habit.

I suppose I was, by most definitions, a well cut young man. Lean but not skinny, one would have thought that the last thing a dark haired college student needed to do was jerk off in order to achieve sexual fulfillment. In fact, I had spent so much time with Sophie that friends thought we were actually dating. I had never even considered it and laughed it off… but now?

I loved Sophie like a friend, and while I had met girls that were willing to be sexual, none had captured my heart like this -stroking my hardening cock under the warm flow of water in the shower.

________

I met up with Sophie several times over the next week or two and everything was strangely back to how it had been. Nothing needed to be said and we continued our friendship without any complications. The following weekend I was invited over for dinner, as I often had been, with Sophie and her family. It wasn’t anything special, her Mom had grabbed Chinese on the way back from work and we all loaded up our plates. They had a tiny, circular dining room table that her dad had found at a yard sale down the street. It was big enough for four, but not six, so Sophie and I set out stack tables in the nearby living room and ate on the couch.

For such a large family -- Her Mom, Dad, her two sisters and Sophie - dinner was upsettingly silent. I remembered how their meals used to be, all of us carousing around the big table, talking excitedly about what had happened that day. Here, though, the clatter of utensils and plates overwhelmed whatever urge we might have had to say anything to each other. And what was there to talk about, really?

I waited till everyone seemed truly lost in their own worlds, then I elbowed Sophie. She turned and glared at me.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I did it," I said, under my breath, "I made it work. In my bedroom."

"Oh, awesome," Sophie said, her face shifting from slightly irritated to fully excited. Her eyes lit up like bright blue fire. "How was it?"

I looked down at the ground, shyly. I guess some things still felt strange to admit to Sophie.

"Nice," Sophie said, and gave my shoulder a playful shove.

After dinner, her siblings left to go hang out with their respective friends, leaving Sophie and me to watch TV with her parents. It's not that we didn't have our own social groups because we did. But most of our friends had gone away to University, while we were still local so we had fewer social options.

I suppose we could have gone out, the two of us, but it was awkward to wander around our old hometown. The thought of running into people, of having to explain that we were just friends -- I don't think either of us was anticipating that interaction. So, instead, we stayed on the couch and watched TV.

It didn't take long, however, for her Mom and Dad to shuffle off to sleep, and so we found ourselves sitting together on the beat-up couch. Almost close enough to be cuddling.

"You want to do it again?" Sophie asked.

"Huh?" I asked. I looked over at Sophie. She was wearing a long, light pink, sleep shirt that went down to her knees -- hiding her ample curves. She gave me a winking smile, like she was telling a dirty joke.

"Do you want to?" Sophie asked again. Suddenly, I realised what she meant.

"Here? Now?"

"Upstairs," Sophie said. She didn't wait for my response, just stood up and glided out of the living room. I mean, was I truly going to sit and watch TV by myself at that point?

Back in Sophie's bedroom, I found her already lying splayed on the floor, pillow strategically placed under her. She had lifted her sleep shirt up to her waist, exposing a pair of egg blue, bikini-cut panties.

Sophie grunted hello, then ground into the ground. "Do you need a pillow?" she asked, throatily.

"Nah," I said. I lay down on the floor. I could feel myself stiffening already, and I knew I needed to take the opportunity before the act became impossible.

Sophie's hardwood floors felt even better than my carpet. We were facing each other again. Hearing Sophie's gulping breaths, feeling her body tremble nearby, all of it conspired to take my experience from a solid 7 to a tremendous 10. Moments later, I was shooting hot seed into my shorts.

"Did you just cum?" Sophie asked. She looked about to hit the precipice, herself. Her cheeks were pinker than her shirt.

"Yeah."

She was going to town like there was no tomorrow, going faster and faster and never letting up...and the looks on her face were priceless!.. her eyes rolling, biting her tongue, I could tell she was totally unaware of her surroundings and I wished I had grabbed my phone to record her ministrations. I could tell she was about to cum... her body tensed up, her face was full of anticipation, and she was thrusting her hips relentlessly against her worn out pillow.

"Aaaaaeeeeeeiiiiiii," Sophie was suddenly overtaken by her own orgasm. It had only been a mtter of seconds since I had climaxed and I watched in amazement as my best friend had the most explosive orgasm of her young life! She folded and shook and jerked for at least two minutes before rolling over beside me, twitching gently.

Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. "Fuck, that was good…."

Sophie picked up her head and met my eyes. Her look was dreamy, distant. Yet there was something focused beneath the surface. Like she was making a decision.

We shared a goofy grin.

"That's it for you?" Sophie asked.

"Pretty much," I said. I had no doubt I could squeeze another orgasm out of myself. But the rubbing took a lot out of me. Something about it was so much more taxing than the usual stroking off.

"Well, OK," Sophie said, "I'll see you in the morning?"

I knew, right then, that she wasn't making the usual, trite statement. It was an appointment.

A promise.

________

Sometimes it takes a while to settle into a new habit. Retraining your body, your mind, to incorporate a different routine. That was not the case for Sophie and me. We were barely past our first day of this and already our fresh tradition felt expected. As if we had been doing it our entire lives and would continue to do so forever more.

Sophie called it pressing and so that's how I came to think of our activity. It wasn't always at the same time or even every day, but we managed to have regular regroups. One morning we might wake up, press together, and get ready for the day. Or after lunch, we'd have an afternoon press in between doing chores or playing games or whatever. And if we missed both of those (or were having a particularly 'active' day) we'd go for a press after dinner, right before exhaustedly wandering home to our beds.

Outside of our little meetups, everything else was normal. We weren't flirty with each other. We didn't even talk about what we were doing. We always wore clothes when we did it -- Sophie with some sort of shirt and panties, me in my t-shirt and shorts. We met up, pressed, and went back to our lives. Like all of this was happening in some separate, bubble universe.

The way everything became casual, however, was also nearly our downfall. Three times, with three separate people, we were almost caught.

The first was my fault. It happened a little over a week after we'd started our escapades. Her family had finished dinner and was watching TV. It was one of those rare evenings when all o them were home, and Sophie and I found ourselves sitting on the floor, in front of the couch.

Sophie turned to me, mid-episode, and cocked her eyebrow. She subtly jutted her chin. That was all I needed to know. I gave her a single nod.

It was on.

A moment later, Sophie said she was feeling tired and went to her bedroom. I waited what felt like a good amount of time (but was probably only two minutes) and followed her upstairs.

I found Sophie already lying on her pillow. She gave me a big, goofy grin as I lay down next to her. The process of this had made me start to chub up, but I'd learned to (literally) push through such things. We humped the ground together, the sounds of boring TV news playing in the distance.

There was this strange intimacy to our act, stolen in little moments. For the most part, I stayed within myself, engaged in my own fantasies. But then I would hear Sophie make a little gasp as she hit the right spot. Or I would grunt with the exertion of the act. Sometimes we'd accidentally bump each other -- arms or legs, never anything more. It was strangely reassuring, an encouragement of the illicit actions we were sharing.

"What are you guys doing?"

I froze. I slowly turned my head to the source of the sound. Her younger sister, Lauren, was standing in the doorway. In my haste, I'd forgotten to close Sophie's door. Damn!

Lauren was 17, mousy and thin, with bright red hair (the same colour as her Mom’s) that hung almost to her waist. She was wearing her usual workout outfit -- a tanktop and yoga pants. She eyed us, confused, like someone searching for an obvious word but unable to find it in the moment.

"Nothing," Sophie said, like this was a perfectly satisfying answer. She didn't even get off the pillow. Just spun around and stared up at our younger sister. "Go away."

Lauren did not do that. Instead, she stayed at the door, narrowing her eyes like she was processing everything.

"It's fine, Lauren," I said, the panic rising in my throat. "We're hanging out."

"We're planning your birthday gift," Sophie said. This was a particularly bad lie, since we were doing nothing that looked like planning. And Lauren's 18th birthday was still a good two months away.

But while her youngest sister was super sweet, she wasn't very sharp. She wasn't a dope, just far too trusting. The kind of girl who couldn't understand that people might lie to her for their own benefit.

"Oh!" she said, brightly, "OK." And quickly scampered away.

I wasn't going to argue with our good luck. I got off the floor, gently closed Sophie's door, and returned to what we were doing.

The second time we almost got caught, though, was on Sophie (somewhat). It was a Saturday afternoon, a week or so later, and she found me watching TV in the living room. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a pink lettering on it, as well as a pair of green sweat-shorts. Her breasts and bottom seemed liable to break out of both at any minute.

Sophie gave me our signal and I got off the couch. But instead of leading me back to her bedroom, Sophie shook her head.

"Here," she said. That one word was shocking, for all that it implied. I glanced around the room. Right out in the open? We were sure to be seen.

"No one's home," Sophie said, "They're all out doing errands or whatever." She grabbed a pillow off the couch -- blue, small, and squarish -- and dropped it on the floor.

"Are you sure?"

Sophie gave me a chastising look. You'd think that would be hard based on how she was lying on her groin, getting ready to fuck the hell out of that poor cushion. But, somehow, my best frind still managed to look disdainful. I shrugged and dropped next to her.

I have to admit, changing our surroundings did something to the whole experience. I'm not saying we got bored of the usual stuff, but after weeks of it, there was a sort of numbness to the routine of it all. Doing it in another place -- a room where we spent so much time with the rest of our family -- gave everything a sharper edge.

I went over the top first. Unlike Sophie's peak, mine required some post-orgasm maintenance. So, I got up to go find a tissue. Fortunately, my splooge had mostly stayed in my shorts, though I had a drop or two on my leg.

As I went toward the bathroom, however, I felt a hand on my chest. I stopped in place. Standing in front of me, right at the top of the stairs, was Sophie’s oldest sister, Jessica. Her twenty-three-year-old sibling had obviously seen everything. So much for an empty house.

Jessica raised her eyebrow at me in a way that was totally different than Sophie's come-hither gesture. It was more like drawing a dagger.

"Tell me you two aren't doing what I think you're doing," Jessica said. Even though it was a weekend, she was dressed in a nice, pink blouse and a dark navy skirt. She had her auburn hair tied back in a severe bun. She'd done her makeup, as well, making her angular features appear almost devastatingly beautiful. I felt very much like a turd she'd found on the stairs. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like," Jessica repeated.

I paused. I didn't know what to say, except to parrot it back. "It isn't what it looks like," I said. Like that was going to make a difference.

Jessica's green eyes, remarkably similar to Sophie's, hardened.

"It's not," I said.

"OK," Jessica said. I braced for the impact. Instead, her oldest sister stared me down for another moment, then spun on her heel and walked away.

Later, I told Sophie about it, expecting her to freak out. Instead, she laughed.

"Don't sweat it," my blonde, best friend said, a smile still playing on her cute face. "Jessica's not going to do anything."

"I don't know," I said, "She seemed pretty angry. She could tell your parents we wre having sex together!”"

"We weren't and Jessica's always angry," Sophie said. I couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry she caught us. I didn't realise she was home. But Jessica's not the tattling type. She's happy to ignore us. Trust me. We just need to be more careful."

Our last brush with danger came soon after. It was by far the most chaste, yet it felt like the riskiest moment of all. Sophie and I had spent the day out and were headed upstairs to my bedroom for our evening session. But as we were about to go into my room, my Mom called after us. Sophie and I shared a nervous look. We walked back down to the kitchen.

My Mom was waiting there for us, hands on her hips, in standard disapproval position. Our kitchen was so tiny, it made my mother look like a giant. Even more imposing than usual.

"You two are up to something," my Mom said. Her voice was not kind.

The sink was running behind her, stacked to the brim with dishes. A reminder of yet another indignity we'd had to endure with our house: it didn't even have a dishwasher.

"We're hanging out," I said, shrinking under my mom's pointed interrogation.

Mom shook her head. "It's more than that. I see you two sneaking off at all hours. Always in your room with the door shut. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing," Sophie said, "Like Jeff told you, we're just hanging out. Playing games. You know."

Mom's glare deepened, like Jessica's had done. Her eyes narrowed, a mirror of Lauren's from earlier.

"You're up to something," she said, "And I don't like it. Your father and I, this family, we're all going through a lot right now. It's bad enough as is and if you go and do something stupid to make it worse, even the tiniest, littlest bit..."

"We're not," Sophie said, "We won't. I promise."

Mom's look didn't soften, but she let out a deep breath. "Fine," she said. She waved us out of the kitchen but stared at me. "You're old enough that you don't have to live with me anymore. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior if you want to stay under this roof?"

"Of course," Sophie said with a look of horror on her face.

"Understood," I said.

We escaped back to my bedroom. That night's session felt strained and anxious. Rushed and unfulfilling. But we still did it.

And that was the larger issue. For all those close calls, for all the very real consequences that came with them, we never stopped what we were doing. We didn't step back or rethink our actions. You'd think that with everything that had gone on, with every warning sign we'd passed, that we'd learn our lesson.

Instead, we escalated.

________

"Do you ever think about stuff?" Sophie asked, "You know, when we're doing this?"

We were both post-peak, lying back like bomb victims on Sophie's hardwood floor. It was surprisingly comfortable after a good, hard climax. The room sank of cum.

"You mean, like, other people?" I asked.

"Yes," Sophie said, "I mean, you're not focusing on how you're making it with my bedroom floor, are you?"

"Of course not," I said.

"So… do you picture anyone specific?" Sophie asked.

"Ahhhh… well," I mumbled, thinking of how hard I had cum the first timeI had thought of Sophie, "No. No one specific. It's kind of random. Just 'a girl,' you know?"

Sophie rolled onto her side, giving me a dubious look.

But I recognized a no-win situation when I saw one. If I said I thought about Sophie, I was an sex-obsessed pervert. But if I said some other girl, then I risked hurting my best friend's feelings. So, I turned to my only defense, and turned the question back to Sophie.

"What about you?" I asked, "Do you ever think about anyone?"

"Not really," Sophie said in a mocking voice, "Just, you know, 'a boy.'"

There was a heavy pause. Each of us waited for the other to crack under the weight of it.

"We’re friends aren’t we? We promised your Mom we wouldn’t be anything else. So come on?" Sophie asked, her voice suddenly quiet and questioning. “Tell me who you fantasise about?”

“No way!”

“You’re useless!”

"You started it," I replied. Oh, so very mature.

"Fine," Sophie said, with an exasperated sigh. "There is this one guy at school. He's kinda tall with dark hair. Muscular. Sometimes I picture him."

"This guy have a name?" I asked. 

"Probably?" Sophie said, "I've never talked to him. I see him in class sometimes."

"It'd be weird if he didn't have a name," I said, "Like, if he was called Random Hotguy or whatever."

"Yeah, Let’s call him Randy," Sophie said.

"Well, that seems appropriate," I said.

I played at being coy, but I couldn't help but feel a little hurt as Sophie described a crush who was almost the exact opposite of my skinny, short, light-haired self. I knew it was stupid to feel jealous. For one, she was Sophie, we were friends and nothing more. She was right, we played together, we weren’t ever going to be lovers. My Mom had nothing to worry about, this little blonde haired hottie was completely off limits. For another, I'd literally forced her to say something. So, what did I expect, exactly?

But that didn't stop me from seething in the moment. And so, I felt the need to take some measure of revenge.

"There is this one girl," I said.

"Do tell," Sophie said.

"She's, um, got brown hair. Brown eyes. Short. She's skinny but in kind of a cute way."

"And where did you find this alluring coat rack?" Sophie asked. Her face was turning sourer by the second.

"You know, around," I said.

"Like around my house maybe?" Sophie asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, you're obviously talking about Lauren," Sophie said, “I see the way she looks at you. You’re rubbish at flirting by the way.”

"I'm not perving on your little sister," I retorted.

Sophie rolled her eyes at me. 

"Fine. Maybe a little bit," I said.

Sophie shook her head, dismissively, “You always had a thing for redheads and now my little sister is coming of age… she’s small, freckled and has the figure of a boy!”

"She does not!" I gasped. "What's your problem with Lauren? She's your sister, isn't she? Family are supposed to support each other."

"I just think you could do better than that jailbait," Sophie said. I realised it, suddenly. Sophie wasn't playing around. Her feelings were actually, honestly hurt. As if she hadn't done the same thing to me moments before.

"Well, what about Randy?" I asked. "I mean, the guy doesn't even have a real name. Don't you think you should set your sights a little higher?"

Sophie went quiet. She pursed her lips. The air in the room felt thick and heavy. Filled with anger and resentment. More than either of us could carry. After weeks of unbreakable buoyancy, this one silly conversation had popped us both.

I started to get off the floor, but Sophie stopped me.

"There is this one other guy," she said. Her cheeks went a little red.

I realised Sophie was making a peace offering and, fortunately, I was smart enough to accept it. I let myself be held in place.

"He's really cute, kinda handsome," Sophie said, "Light brown hair. Nice body." She ran her eyes up and down me, like punctuating her point.

I let out a loud sigh and lay back down on the floor. "Seriously?" I asked.

"I mean, you're right next to me, and my little sister isn't blind or stupid," Sophie said. "You're turning into a man, so it's kind of hard not to think… of you. I see your face. Your eyes. You're actually quite attractive, you know that?"

"Even though I'm short and skinny with messed up hair, and have an actual real name?" I said.

"Even though," Sophie said.

"Well, as long as we're being honest, there is this other girl I sometimes think about," I said, "She's very pretty. Gorgeous, honestly. And her body is like, wow. She's really hot."

Sophie looked down at herself, dubiously. "Not too fat?" she asked.

"Oh my God, no, she's got curves her sister would kill for!" I said immediately. "She's practically fucking perfect."

"Wow," Sophie said. She breathed it out in a little sigh. Almost like one of the sounds she'd make when she was about to peak.

"Anyway, I know I shouldn't but..."

"It's OK," Sophie said, "I get it.

"Like you said, it's hard not to," I said, "In the moment. You're there, you know? Feeling you bump against me. Hearing your little noises. It's kinda awesome, actually."

"Kind of?" Sophie asked, but I could see she was teasing. "You sure you wouldn't rather a certain skinny redhead?"

"I think I might prefer blondes," I said. A pause. "Are you OK with that? I know it's wrong and all, but."

"I'm fine with it," Sophie said. She put her hand on mine. Just that little touch felt electric. "As long as you're OK with me doing it, too."

"Yeah," I said, "Yes. I'm OK with that."

Everything seemed settled. The next day went on as normal. Even that night, when we held our regular pressing session, it was like nothing had changed.

But when Sophie reached her apex, she gasped out. "Oh Jeff," she said, "So good."

Then dropped limp to the floor.

________

And so, we started talking.

Again, never outside our little meetups. We didn't get flirty in the kitchen or tease each other in front of the TV. But when we'd press, it was like one long running conversation. Whether we were talking to ourselves or communicating with each other I can't say for sure. But we became downright chatty as we made ourselves cum.

"Oh, that's the spot. Right there," Sophie said.

"Fuck that's nice," I said, "So good."

"Gonna cum... So close," Sophie said.

"Ah... cumming..." I said.

Nothing else changed.

There were times when I wished for more. I imagined Sophie taking her shirt off, her pert tits trembling as she took herself to paradise. I thought about grabbing her hand when I came. Or, for that matter, us giving up on the floor and grinding against each other.

These were passing thoughts, fast fantasies, that usually disappeared immediately post-press. Despite our daily actions, the things we said to each other, I kept Sophie filed safely away as my best friend. I was unable to imagine ever storing her under a different category. Our enduring friendship actually meant more to me than sex.

Summer stretched languid around us. Her Dad, Mom, and her olde4 sister Jessica all got busy with work. Little Lauren disappeared all day to be with her friends. Dinners with her family were few and far between so Sophie and I mostly hung out with each other.

The next step was probably inevitable.

"Fuck that feels so good," Sophie said as she pressed down on her pillow. We were back in my bedroom, doing what we did best -- getting ourselves off while we got on with each other.

"You like that?"

"Oh yes," Sophie said, "Oh Jeff you have no idea… How good this makes me feel."

"I'd be damn better than a pillow," I said.

"And I'm sure I'm much more than a floor," Sophie said, "Do… do you want that? To… feel my body -- AH! -- beneath you?"

"So soft and warm," I said, "Your breasts. That ass."

"So hard," Sophie said, "Aching. Thrusting. OH! Oh fuuuuck. I'm getting close. Are…are you gonna let… me cum for you?"

"Please. I'm there, too. Let go, Sophie. I want to see it. Feel it. Feel you cum."

"Oh OHHH! Ah! AHHH! Oh yes! FUCK YES!" Sophie shook. Shuddered.

As if her orgasm sparked mine, the pleasure overwhelmed me. Hot spurts shooting down my leg.

"Oh, fuck that really turned me on," Sophie panted.

She rolled over and kissed me on the top of the head.

It was shocking, that sudden contact. Like another wall had been broken through. I swear I could smell the dusty, chipped plaster as Sophie busted through yet another barrier.

I rolled over to look at her. I'm sure she saw the shock in my face. Instead, Sophie shrugged.

"Just thanking you," Sophie said.

"I didn't do anything," I said.

"If you say so," Sophie said, and she winked my way.

I started to get up. Flopped back. Like I said, that hardwood floor was incongruently comfy after an explosive orgasm. I imagined a pointy rock might feel the same at that point, honestly. That was the thing about cumming, everything around me felt soft and welcoming. My mind, however, became far sharper.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

Again, Sophie shrugged.

"No, seriously, what is this?"

"Fun," Sophie said, as if it were obvious.

"So, we keep doing it," I said.

"At least till we go back to University," Sophie said, "Why not? You have something better to do?"

I had to concede that I did not. The friends that I might want to talk to had all gone off to their lives. The people I very much did not want to see were right outside our front door. It was too easy to feel trapped by a bunch of circumstances that were out of my control.

Sophie seemed to be feeling the same thing. She sat down next to me, leaning back on her bed frame.

"Look, the past year has been so hard," Sophie said, "Dad losing his job. Then losing the house. Our new place... I know it's where we live but it's not home. Even the smells are so unfamiliar. I don't like it there. I don't like this. It sucks for you too, right?"

"It's fucking miserable," I said.

"Right," Sophie said, "And this is just... Look, I'm not saying it's my life or anything. It's a distraction. But it's kind of keeping me sane right now. So, I don't want to stop. We'll move on when it's time. I know we will."

"That makes sense," I said, "Honestly, it's helping me, too."

"We'll reach a certain point," Sophie said, "It'll be easy. One day we'll stop doing it and it won't even feel different. You'll look back and realise 'oh, it's been so long since we did it.'"

"Just like that?"

"Don't you think so?" Sophie said, "Besides it's not like we're doing anything serious here. We're not even touching. We're not being stupid. We're  ot lovers or anything."

I thought back to that kiss on the head Sophie had given me. For a moment, I realized that we were both deceiving ourselves. But that's the thing about a mirage. It's all about how badly you want to see it.

“Just friends.”

________

The summer got hotter. Sophie's Mom talked a big game about buying some window air conditioners, but they never materialized. Sophie and I, already down to t-shirts and shorts, were running out of ways to stay cool. I knew it was bad when Sophie said it was even too hot to press.

I reached the breaking point one afternoon when the knob of my bedroom door melted off in my hand. I wish I was exaggerating, but there I was, standing stupidly in the hallway, with a broken knob in my hand and no way to get back into my bedroom.

Instead, I went in search of Sophie. I headed to hers and discovered Sophie lazing on the couch, stretched out and miserable. She had on a pair of red mesh shorts and a white, ribbed tank. Her top was slightly pulled up, uncovering her cute tummy.

"This house sucks!" she said, writhing in discomfort.

I held up my doorknob as evidence.

"What's that?" she asked.

I explained and she giggled, then groaned. "Oh my God, your knob has  melted off. I really hoped I might get some more use out of it."

"Funny. Well, we could go out," I ventured.

"It's hotter out there than it is here," Sophie said, "Let's watch a movie. About something cold."

"Do you think that'll help?" I asked.

But Sophie was already surfing the screen. Finally, she settled on some old rom-com called The Cutting Edge about competitive ice skating. It was barely watchable, and it didn't help me feel any cooler. But Sophie seemed happy, and it was too hot to argue. It's not like I could go back to my bedroom.

About halfway through -- the female lead kept saying the words 'toe pick' -- Sophie paused the movie.

"I want to take my shirt off," she said, in a strangely matter of fact tone.

"OK?" I gave Sophie an odd look.

"You can take yours off, too," Sophie said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," I said, "It's a little different when I do it."

"Look, it's really hot," Sophie said, seemingly unaware of the double entendre. "And I'm super uncomfortable. Seeing me in a bra won't even make the top ten of things you've witnessed from me lately. So, I'm going to do this and you're going to be OK with it. OK?"

Oh, I was way more than OK in that moment. Did I mention Sophie's chest was amazing? It was much more than that. Sophie had such perky breasts. I knew it, despite the fact that I'd never seen more than the shape of them under her shirt. So yeah, no, I was more than alright with Sophie taking her shirt off on the couch. If anything, I was sad that she had already set the limit at leaving her bra on.

But this was weird right? Tell me I'm not strange for thinking it was weird that my best friend was going to take out her titties in the middle of the living room in front of me, as casually as pouring herself a drink. She wasn't even my girlfriend!]

Yet, no matter how I felt about it, Sophie was doing it. Sophie reached down for the bottom of her tank and pulled it over her head. You'd think she was ripping off a band-aid, not exposing her twin holiest of holies to her besotted childhood friend. But Sophie kept it casual.

I more than made up for Sophie's lack of concern, however, with my own reaction. I gaped. I gawped. Sophie sat back on the couch in nothing but a lacy black bra and a pair of tiny, scarlet shorts. You'd think she'd just showed me the mysteries of the universe. And, to some extent, she truly had.

There are no words to describe what Sophie had revealed to me. Her bra covered a good portion of her breasts, but still. Her boobs were pert, full and proud. They looked perfectly shaped and wonderfully peachy. I know I'm doing a lousy job of describing them. I'm sure you're thinking 'dude, they're just boobs, and your best friends boobs at that.' But I'm telling you. That's my point. They were so much more than anything I can describe to you. Like discovering the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

And, again, I was only seeing about a third of them thanks to Sophie's lacy bra.

"Ahem," Sophie cleared her throat, dramatically.

"Sorry," I said, and did my best to stop staring. It was like trying to look away from a black hole, so strong was that pull to peek.

"Ahem hem," Sophie did it again, even louder this time. She gestured to my chest.

"Oh," I said, "Right." I didn't remember agreeing to this literal tit for tat, but I wasn't going to step away from it, either. I pulled off my t-shirt, sticky with sweat, and tossed it aside.

"Very nice," Sophie said, looking at me appraisingly.

"You know, I'm completely bare while you're still wearing your bra. It seems to me it would be more even if we were both topless," I said. I mean, can you blame me for trying?

Sophie smirked and shook her head. "Mmmmm… Nice!" she said. She turned the movie back on.

We finished the film, both of us staying in our state of half-dress. You won't be surprised to learn that I missed most of what was on the screen. Look, I'm sure that Moira Kelly was kind of cute for her day, but compared to Sophie's luscious, stupendous, lace-covered chest, nothing else could compete.

I spent the entire time stealing glances when I thought Sophie wasn't looking. It wasn't enough. A lifetime's pass to stare wouldn't have been enough.

When the movie was over, when the guy finally got the girl, Sophie looked my way. I was ready to get berated for my inability to keep my eyes off Sophie's mounds. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. Pointed her chin. Well, I guess it wasn't too hot after all.

"Here's fine," Sophie said, sliding off the couch.

Instinctively I looked around. If the house hadn't been empty, I was pretty sure we'd have already been caught by now. I joined Sophie on the living room floor.

Sophie reached for a pillow off the couch. She didn't bother grabbing for her shirt. Oh. My. God. As if things couldn't get any better. Seeing Sophie lying on her stomach -- about to pleasure herself with a pillow -- with her breasts hanging near-free in her bra? I swear I felt my sanity start to snap.

"You like my titties?" Sophie asked, her face cinched as she pressed down.

For some reason, the word 'titties' sounded strange coming out of her mouth. The sight of her humping the floor was more than enough to overwhelm my momentary pause.

"You look so sexy," I said. I settled into the floor. Honestly, I was too hard at that point to hump. It didn't matter. Watching Sophie was more than enough.

"Oh, that feels so good," Sophie said, "Seeing you staring. Am I truly so amazing, Jeff?"

"You have no idea," I said.

"Think about it. Doing this. Holding me. Squeezing. Would you like that? Do you -- OH! -- want to feel my body while I do this? While I cum for you?"

"Yes… fuck yes," I said.

"Oh Jeff, I wish you could..." Sophie froze mid-moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why aren't you... you know?"

"Oh," I said. I was surprised she even noticed that I wasn't stuffing myself against the floor. "Well, um, you see. It's kinda hard to do this when I'm… this hard."

"Aw, did looking at my titties give you a stiffy?" Sophie asked. Boy, she really did like using that word for her breasts. "I thought getting an erection was supposed to help you with this stuff."

"It does," I said, "It would. It's just, when we do it this way, if I'm too worked up, it hurts when I try to, you know, make things happen."

"Well, what if you did it a different way," Sophie said, "You know, the way that it would work with you erect… and on your back?"

"I… I don't know."

"Take it out," Sophie said, "Show me. It's OK. I want to see it. Please?"

"No bra," I said. If I was going for it, then I was going for it.

Sophie didn't say a word. She reached back and unsnapped her black, lacy lingerie. She pulled it away and finally, her bare breasts hung free. They were better than I'd been picturing. Plump with phenomenally pert, pink nipples. I lost track of time. Of myself. My whole universe shattered by such a simple moment.

"Your turn," Sophie said. I noticed she'd stopped humping the pillow completely. She was waiting for me to get set.

I stood up and shimmied my shorts and underwear down in one go. My penis popped up, sticking straight out, like an overwound jack-in-the-box. I grabbed it immediately. Unable to control my urge to stroke myself.

Now, it was Sophie's turn to gasp. She stared up at my dick like it was an obelisk. A great and powerful object of desire.

"Wow," Sophie said. It seemed she wanted to add to that sentiment, but her brain was no longer in the business of making words.

I sat down on the couch. My bare bottom stuck to the canvas. Sophie spun herself on the ground so she could tilt her head up and see.

"Do you like it?" I asked, repeating what Sophie had said before. "Is my cock really so amazing, Soph?"

"Stroke it," Sophie said, "Show me. I need to see you masturbating."

Like I required a command by that point. My instincts had already kicked in. I gripped my cock and worked the loose skin back and forth. I was only using my hand, and dry at that, but it didn't matter. It felt incredible.

Meanwhile, below me, Sophie began trembling as she took herself to town on the pillow.

"Oh, Jeff," she said, "Feels so good... Your cock. So thick. Oh, I want it. Jerk it for me. Cum for me?"

With everything that had already happened, with all that we were doing, I wasn't going to last long. Fortunately, neither was Sophie.

Sophie rolled up on her groin, pointed her beautiful tits to the sky, then stiffened. Froze in place. Eyes glazed over. Mouth open. Finally, she broke. She let out a short, sharp sob as the pleasure squeezed out of her.

At that same moment, my cock exploded in my hand. A huge fountain of creamy spunk rocketed out and splattered on Sophie's face. I cried out as my orgasm overwhelmed me.

Sophie rolled over onto her back. She jammed her hand into her shorts and buried it in her pussy, working it like she was trying to rip the poor thing off. She stared up at me, eyes filled with hunger despite having already reached her peak.

I hit her perfect tits with my second shot of my pearlescent seed. I splattered her face again with my third. Sophie gasped and groaned as I bathed her in my sticky essence.

Finally, I puddled onto the ground, splayed out next to Sophie. The last of my load leaked out over my fingers. Sophie rolled over and kissed my forehead again. She stank of pussy and sperm. Desire and satisfaction. Man and woman, in a way we're never supposed to experience.

"You got me," Sophie said, gasping for breath, "Got me good."

"Sorry," I said.

"No way, that was awesome," Sophie said. "I'm going to need a shower now though."

"Me too," I said.

Sophie didn't miss what I was implying. For a moment, my best friend stared at me. She had my cum in her silky blonde hair... On her heaving tits. Both of us were barely clothed. Was I really asking for that much more?

To my surprise, Sophie actually seemed to consider my offer. But then she giggled, jumped up and skipped away.

________

July rolled into August. The heatwave ended, and while it wasn't exactly comfortable, we left unbearable back in the rearview mirror. I thought, after everything that had happened, that we'd progress more. Maybe Sophie would repeat her performance and take her top off or ask me to show her my dick. But none of that happened. Instead, we went back to regular old pressing.

At least for a little while.

In the meantime, life didn't stop moving around us. With time to school getting closer, needs outside of masturbating with Sophie began to take precedence. We drove to University a couple of times to make sure everything was set with the registrar and to get our supplies for the year.

Sophie's little sister, Lauren, was getting ready for her last year of high school, and we helped her get set up. Lauren was going to join us at Uni after high school, so we took her with us to see the campus, too.

Sophie and I did our usual chores -- food shopping, laundry, cooking meals. Her parents were still working like dogs, but her older sister, Jessica, got a bit of a break midway through the month and we met her in the city for lunch. Jessica made no mention of the previous 'incident' and certainly we had nothing to say about it.

Jessica and I never really saw eye to eye. I guess her height and around five seven or five eight but it was difficult to judge her shape in her bulky sweater and loose fitting jeans. Her face was the picture of pure beauty with finely arched eyebrows above green eyes that sparkled like rare treasures and lashes that looked long enough to braid. High, delicate cheekbones gave a remarkable sharpness to her features, as did her dainty nose that rested above the soft pink lips of her narrow mouth. Tiny orange freckles dotted her smooth face as if placed there by the skillful dance of a master's paintbrush on a fresh white canvass. Surrounding it all was a thick mane of lustrous red curls that were pulled back in a tight ponytail, with one unruly strand defying restraint to hang down the left side of her face. Even her voice was beautiful, I realised in awe.

There were hints of Sophie in her looks but where my best friend had curves, Jessica was willowy and slight. As the three of us ate lunch together I noticed she would look up at me, through her long eyelashes, every time Sophie was preoccupied with something. When she noticed me noticing her I became confident that something had changed between us. Jessica smiled. She would lean towards me… her fingers would linger on mine… where there was once hostility I now sensed  a mutual attraction transcending the familial relationship that comes with me being friends with her sister. 

Later that week, when I spent time at their house, Jessica no longer avoided me. She was flirting with me! Relishing times when Sophie was indisposed to place her hands on mine, or massage my shoulders. As timel progressed, the touches became more frequent, the greeting kisses moved from the cheeks to the lips and the private, affectionate glances and sexual innuendo between us became more titillating. I admit to being a willing participant with her in escalating the physical and mental aspects of our closeness… and Sophie was none the wiser.

Toward the end of my most recent visit, Jessica approached me after lunch while Sophie was otherwise occupied, and she told me she greatly enjoyed having me stay with them, especially appreciating my warmth toward her. I did not know where her conversation was leading, so I just let her talk.

She moved close to me, put her hand on my arm, looked into my eyes and told me, "I’m single and I think you’re growing into a very attractive man. To be honest Jeff, I have been thinking about you for many months. I hope that doesn't shock you."

Without breaking eye-contact, I put my hand over hers and replied, "Sophie… wouldn't be happy with me if she knew…”

“She's not here. Don't you find me attractive?”

“Yes,” I gulped, “I've been thinking about you, too, in ways that are not appropriate." I immediately felt that I may have been too presumptuous about the intent of her words, but I was wrong.

She quickly said, "You're not dating my sister, you're just friends! I just want you to know how I feel, Jeff," and she leaned against me and kissed me, twice, both times softly, and then more firmly a third time which clearly indicated to me she had a pressing need for intimacy.

I put my hands on her waist and pulled her tightly against me, feeling for the first time the pressure of her breasts against my chest and the contact of her thighs on mine. I continued the increasing passion of that third kiss and when I put my tongue on her lips she eagerly opened her mouth and an audible groan rattled in her throat.

Our first passionate encounter ended abruptly when Sophie called to us from another room. We separated quickly with both of us a bit stunned by what had just happened.

I spent the rest of the afternoon contemplating the joys of passionate, fulfilling sex with a willing and eager woman, something that had become a distant memory for me. My mind's eye repeatedly undressed Jessica and visualized us fucking each other to multiple orgasms. I knew I was very likely overreacting, but I reveled in thinking about the extraordinary pleasures we could share.

The three of us went to a cozy restaurant that evening, and our flirting spoke volumes although it was necessarily subtle due to Sophie's presence. Jessica was seated across from me, and during the meal she rubbed my leg under the table with her bare foot. It was a simple, suggestive act, and I found it very pleasing and highly erotic. I felt my cock becoming firm, and I liked it.

When Sophie left us to use the restroom, I said to Jessica, "What's happening here?”

“I know what you two were doing… that day… but I also know she hasn't gone all the way with you. I really enjoy spending time with you, Jeff. I like our flirting and… I'm willing to give you what she won’t.”

“What? Are you serious?"

"I am serious, Jeff. Honestly. I have strong feelings for you, and I want to act on them." She reached down and ran her hand up my leg… towards my swollen member. She slid her hand down my inner thigh and traced the outline of my cock with her long fingernails. God, that felt great. I stared at her hardening nipples as they protruded through her top and stared into her emerald green eyes. Jessica smiled a wicked smile as she rubbed my cock through my pants, pre-cum was soaking my underwear. Even if it only went this far – I was in heaven.

She continued to squeeze my cock, I was sure I was going to cum inside my boxers.

"Jess… stop!” I gasped.

"Oh poor thing, you need relief don't you." 

I gulped. She took her dainty thump and rubbed the pre-cum stain at the tip of my cock. I was in heaven and my cock jerked in response. She continued to rub my pre-cum and my cock head below. My glans was enlarged and ripening for the older sister. 

"Jeff, your penis is huge!" she hissed. Her eyes were glued to my cock.

“Please, Jessica!” I said, not even knowing if I wanted her to stop or continue.

“I know you want to spare my sister's feelings, Jeff. That's so cute and so very chivalrous of you… here she comes,” then she whispered as Sophie approached the table, “I want you and it is going to happen sooner or later. If she doesn't make her move… I’ll be waiting to make mine.”

She smiled and all I could do was smile back. Sophie misread the situation and assumed we were simply getting along.  Jessica made some excuses and left me with her younger sister… and sporting an uncomfortable erection.

“I see you still have a thing for redheads,” Sophie giggled, noticing the bulge in my pants but not realising just how true her statement was. We both watched her older sister walk out of sight, her hips swaying gracefully, her red mane of hair bouncing.

The next time we met at their house Jessica smiled knowingly but made no moves with her sister so close by. In other words, they acted like perfectly normal siblings, and we enjoyed our summer break as best we could, considering the circumstances. I guess only Jessica knew we were slipping away for shared masturbation sessions every now and then.

"I want to try something different this time," Sophie announced when I snuck into her bedroom. It was a random Wednesday and after sharing pleasantries with her big sister, she'd given me the chin jut, and here we were, getting ready to get off under the watchful eye of Link and Tom Nook, eyeing us from Sophie's bedroom walls.

The fact that Sophie had spoken up at all already had me nervous. Sure, we talked dirty to each other during the act, but we never came out and discussed the mechanics of what we were up to. Not really.

I assumed Sophie meant that she wanted me to jerk off again. Which, I was totally up for. I was all prepared to let her know that I was fine with it (in exchange for seeing titties), when she swerved so hard it nearly knocked me over.

"I'm just thinking," Sophie said, "Instead of using the floor or a pillow or whatever, it might be nice to try it together."

I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that what we'd been doing?

"No, I mean, like. If you were pressing on me. And I was pressing on you. It might feel even better, you know?"

I was too shocked to respond. What was Sophie suggesting, exactly? Did she sense her sister wanted sex? Was she offering me her body?

"We'd wear our clothes," Sophie said, as if that made things better. "It would be the same as always. Sort of…"

It was that sort of that really set it apart, wasn't it? I think some part of me was convinced, even after what we'd done during the movie, that this remained normal behavior… just friends… not boyfriend and girlfriend… not lovers. Normal. Well… not that you could tell someone about it, and they wouldn't stare at you in horror. I mean, I wasn't going to proactively bring it up at parties or anything. But I thought it was something I could confess to if needed.

This, though -- what Sophie was suggesting -- was so close to actual sex with Sophie, I didn't know how to respond. Would I, like, touch her? Would we kiss? Would she grab my butt while I pressed against her?

"Well, we'll have to touch," Sophie answered, "Definitely no kissing, though. And as to your butt, well, you do have a nice ass. But I'll try to restrain myself if you will."

"I don't know, Sophie," I said.

"Pleeeeeease," Sophie said, "If we don't like it, we can stop. I promise it'll be awesome, and I bet it'll feel way better than doing it on the floor. And it won't be anything different than we're already doing. It's almost exactly the same thing. Truly."

"So, you would, like, lie down. And I would be on top of you. And we would sort of, um, align?"

"Exactly," Sophie said. She clapped her hands. Somehow, it seemed, I'd agreed to do this without realising it.

My buxom, beautiful, blonde best friend climbed onto her bed and lay on her back. She patted the comforter, like asking a puppy to jump up and join her for a snuggle. Per usual, Sophie was wearing a t-shirt and tiny shorts. Yellow and green, respectively.

I had on a shirt, as well, and a pair of gray sweat-shorts. The thought of lying on Sophie clearly appealed to one part of my anatomy, because I was already achingly erect. For once, my hard-on was going to be an advantage when we went to press.

I climbed onto the bed. It was oddly soft, like trying to crawl across a Bounce House with fifty kids going to town on it. I dragged myself next to Sophie. Our faces so close, our noses could practically touch.

"Like this," I said.

"Whole body," Sophie said.

I climbed over Sophie. She spread her thighs. Holy fuck. This was oh-so-very-much like fucking. The clothes did not make a damned difference, I swear they didn't.

Sophie seemed to be rethinking her idea, as well. Like the sudden closeness finally brought it home to her about what she was about to do with her best friend. She gave me a nervous smile as I adjusted myself. But she didn't stop me.

Gingerly, I aimed my groin over Sophie's. Then I slowly lowered it down. My hardness pressed into her. I couldn't tell if I had the right spot or not.

"Little higher," Sophie said. "To the left."

Through layers of clothing, I couldn't truly tell whether I was pressing against a leg, a tummy, or a pussy. But Sophie sure knew when I hit her cleft because she let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"There you go," Sophie said. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "That's the spot."

Sophie looked up at me, expectantly. Again, we shared an anxious grin.

"OK?" I asked.

"Yes, OK," Sophie said.

I became very aware of her soft, warm body. Her breasts pressing into my chest. Her legs on either side of mine. The smell of her shampoo -- apple-y and sweet. Her full lips and cute little tongue. The endless blue-sky of her eyes. Not a cloud in sight for miles.

Sophie seemed to be examining me in the same way. Her eyes and body adjusting to mine. She put her hand up to touch my cheek, then ripped it away like it burned her.

"Sorry," she said, "Habit."

I didn't have a good sense of Sophie's sexual experience. I knew she'd had boyfriends and I was sure they'd done more than kiss. I didn't bother asking because she was my best friend, and it was none of my business. She certainly never inquired about my (meager) dating history and I was never going to tell her about the kiss I shared with Jessica.

Now, though, intimately on top of each other, I wondered if this was something Sophie had shared with someone else. We say 'virginity' like it's a singular thing and I suppose it can be. But there are all sorts of 'virginities' if you think about it -- an endless number of intimate acts we can experience for the first time. I couldn't help but wonder if Sophie was sharing one of those with me in that very moment. The same way I was giving my own to her.

"You can press," Sophie said, "I'm ready."

I nodded. With my hardness firmly slotted against Sophie, I ground down.

Sophie's eyes flashed. She giggled. Then groaned.

"That's. Definitely. The spot," she said.

"Uh huh," I agreed.

We pushed against each other for as long as we could, then broke. Gasping. Did it again. In some ways, this experience was almost expected. It's what I'd been picturing every time on the floor, after all. And yet it was so different than anything I could have imagined. Beyond my fantasies into something truly unimaginable. Wonderful in every way.

I pressed into Sophie and her hands reached up and gripped my butt, pushing me down into her.

"Sorry," Sophie said, but she didn't stop.

I grabbed her shoulders for purchase, in response. For a moment, I thought about reaching lower. I was afraid that one wrong action would end things. I can't imagine how that would have happened. But in the moment, I swear it made sense.

Sophie's gasps and groans got faster. Our actions more frantic. We worked each other to our release. Unlike before, we didn't talk. We didn't need to. All the stimulation we required was right there, with each other.

"Fuck! Soph! I'm close!" I managed to squeak out.

"Do it," Sophie said, "Let it go."

A moment later, I felt the warm spurting wetness of my ejaculate spill into my shorts. There was something almost painful about it. Strained. The bliss overtook me. I felt Sophie's hand on my head. Stroking my hair lovingly. I became very aware of sharing this intimate, vulnerable thing with Sophie. It made everything more satisfying, yet also scarier.

When I got my strength back, I rolled off of Sophie.

"That was nice," she said, "Thank you for letting that happen."

"Did you...?"

"No… Not really," Sophie said.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it.

"No, don't be," Sophie said, "Honestly it was totally awesome. Just different. I loved it."

I nodded, letting myself believe her. If I thought the floor was comfortable post-cum, you can only imagine how nice it felt to be in Sophie's soft warm bed. I let my head loll against the perfumed pillows.

Then Sophie said something that totally blew my mind.

"I think it would be better if we do it without pants next time," she said.

There wasn't a word in that sentence that didn't make my heart race.

________

Fortunately (or not, depending on your perspective), my best friend didn't mean naked, which is what I initially thought she intended.

"No, we need underwear, silly!" Sophie said, clearly trying not to laugh, “We are not going to ruin our friendship by doing something stupid.”

We were in my bedroom this time. Keeping things fresh, I guess. It was a few days after our previous encounter, and I'd spent the entire time on tenterhooks trying to figure out what Sophie had meant by 'without pants.' Obviously, I guessed wrong.

"That would be way too much like actual sex," Sophie explained, as if this were a totally logical way to draw the line. "Also, to be honest we've had to cut back on some necessities because of, well, everything. You know, medical things. So, I'm like, not safe. At the moment. Having at least a layer between me and any of your little swimmers is probably for the best."

"Wow, I'm sorry," I said, "That sucks."

In all that we'd been going through, basic needs like birth control had never occurred to me. I guess being a guy afforded me a few more luxuries than I had realised. I wondered who else in the family was going without at the moment. Things that had never occurred to me.

"It's whatever," Sophie said, "Honestly, it's not the end of the world. Not like I have a boyfriend or anything right now. And Mom thinks we'll be able to get things back to how they were in a few months, so I'll be good to go."

"OK," I said, "Still, is there something I can do to help?"

"Well, you can start by taking your pants off so we can do this properly," Sophie said. I mean, if that wasn't the sexiest thing you've ever heard, what is?

I smirked at Sophie and lowered my bottoms, careful to keep my boxers in place. Sophie shucked off her own shorts and hopped up onto my bed. She lay back, unable to keep from making a silly giggle.

"OK, same as last time," Sophie said.

I wish I could tell you that I was used to being in such close contact with Sophie by then. But getting on top of her was the same disorienting experience all over again. I was dizzy like I'd climbed a mountain, rather than mounted my sexy younger sibling.

I rested my hardness on Sophie's sex. Well, she was right about one thing, pressing with just underwear on was way different. The thin cloth seemed barely able to contain us. I swore I could feel the heat and dampness of Sophie's pussy. I was certain she could feel the warmth of my hard-on. The fly of my boxers never felt so precarious.

I pressed and Sophie moaned. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, holding me close. I became very aware of how much we were bare skin to bare skin… Her legs on mine. I buried my head in the crook of her neck. Her scent overwhelmed me as I ground into her.

"Oh Jeff." Sophie humped up into me. I could tell the pleasure was taking hold of her this time. "This is amazing! You're so good."

Both of us were slick with sweat. My room was already hot, but now it felt like we were baking. My muscles ached. How was this so much work?

"Getting... close..." Sophie said.

I pressed down as hard as I could. Sophie made this strange, high pitched, strained noise. Then punctuated it with a gasp. The effort put me over the top as well. Both of us came hard, wrapped around each other.

When it was over, Sophie smiled and gave me a peck on the lips. I was so enraptured by my orgasm, by Sophie's, I didn't even startle.

"Yup, better with just underwear," Sophie said. She pushed me off of her and I saw an oozing creamy mess emerging through my underwear. I'd left a pretty large mess on her panties and she had a few streaks down her thighs, as well. The liquid was white, so I knew it wasn't only Sophie's lubrication. My sperm seemed to make her soaked panties define her swollen labia… I was struck dumb at the sight!

"Mmmm, it came close. No further, though," Sophie said, "It would be way too dangerous. I better take these off."

I nodded my agreement, eagerly, but she simply laughed and danced into the bathroom to clean up.

________

Despite everything going on with her family finances, there was one area that her parents swore we could not skimp on: their baby sister Lauren's eighteenth birthday party.

They invited everyone we could think of to the house -- family, friends, neighbors -- whoever wanted to come plus quite a few people who probably didn't but showed up anyway. They rented a tent for the backyard, plus tables and chairs. They had catered food, a live band (some of Lauren's high school friends, apparently), the whole thing.

If there wasn't too much food, too many people, and too much noise there was an overabundance of one thing: alcohol. And that's what got me into trouble.

I was invited, of course, and I spent most of my time trying to enjoy myself. In some ways, it was nice, seeing all these people -- family and friends that I'd managed to avoid all summer suddenly felt welcome. At least mostly. Every conversation was tinged with the fear that someone was going to start interrogating me about what was going on with me or Sophie. It gave even the sweetest moments a sour twist.

About a couple of hours into it, I was walking back from the bathroom when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Sophie standing behind me, grinning from ear-to-ear. She was wearing a sleeveless, summery dress with a pink, floral pattern that showed off her curves. Sophie had a beer in her hand and, judging by the look in her eyes, quite a few more in her belly.

"Hey Jeff," she said, a bit too loudly, "There's someone who wants to say 'hi.'"

"OK?"

Sophie took my hand and led me out to the backyard. There had to be at least twenty people out there, impressive considering the size of our lawn. Sophie pulled me straight through the morass to the back, where her sister was lying back in a recliner. She was nursing a beer and her red hair, a gene she shared with her big sister Jessica, hung past her shoulders. She wore it straight and her eyes were sparkling blue like Sophie's. The three sisters only really differed in their figures. Jessica was tall and willowy, Sophie was curvaceous and Lauren was petite. She had the body of a gymnast and rarely stood out in comparison to her older siblings.

"Jeff, you remember Lauren, don't you?" Sophie said, then collapsed into giggles.

Of course I knew Lauren. Lauren was Sophie's eighteen year old sister… the birthday girl. She was a sweet, quiet girl who spent years staring at me as if I had arrived from another planet. She spotted us, and her face lit up. She, like Sophie, had a light dusting of freckles on her fair skin, which went well with her hippie look. Tonight she wore a choker and a crop top with a floral print on it, which, I noticed with a slight twinge, accentuated her smaller breasts beautifully. Clearly the top wasn't conducive to a bra, because her nipples pushed through the fabric in the cool night air. I looked away, scolding myself. Lauren was Sophie's little sister, and though I had always thought she was stunningly beautiful in a wood nymph kind of way, I loved Sophie and was content to admire Lauren only in stolen glances.

"Thank god you're here," Lauren said, hugging us. "I was worried I’d have to talk to more people I don't know. Seems like I've made a lot of new friends."

"You could use a few friends, little sis," Sophie suggested, raising her eyebrow. "And there are a good amount of guys here trying to talk to you."

Lauren scrunched her pretty face up in mock distaste. "Not interested," she said, and I could have sworn she looked at me while she said it.

"You're gonna have to date at some point," Sophie said. It was something she'd talked to me about before, this beautiful sister of hers who didn't seem to want to return anyone's advances. We'd tried setting her up with some of my friends, but she'd always shot them down.

I did my best to say hello and wish her a happy birthday while also ignoring Sophie. The blonde sister was schmoozing around the garden, drunkenly flirting with every guy in turn and demanding that they date her younger sister. I did, indeed, remember Lauren. Lying back in the sun, she was even cuter than my mind had given her credit for. The petite redhead extended her hand, and I gave it a little touch.

"Don't mind Sophie," Lauren said, "She's had a few too many, I fear."

"What about you?"

"Oh, definitely don't ignore me," Lauren said. She gave me a sly smile.

Sophie started laughing even harder somewhere in the background.

"Jeez Sophie, take a breath," I said.

I sat on the end of the lounger and talked to Lauren for a bit. She was back from school for a couple weeks. She had all sorts of fantastic stories about the adventures she would go on when she was old enough. She wanted to escape life in this little town, eat amazing food, and basically having the experience of a lifetime.

"What about you?" Lauren asked, "How's your summer been?"

"Oh, just hanging out," I said, very aware of Sophie's presence. I'm sure my cheeks flushed as I said it.

"Yeah, Sophie told me all about it," Lauren said. My heart slowed. A rush filled my ears. Sophie hadn't told Lauren everything everything, had she? "She said you guys have been sitting around the house watching movies or whatever. Sounds miserable."

"Oh, yes," I said, relief flooding me. "That's exactly what's been happening."

"Well, I can't say it's exactly been bad for you," Lauren said, eyeing me meaningfully, "You look good, Jeff. You filled out."

"Oh, um, thanks," I said, "You do too. Even cuter."

"Cuter, huh?" Lauren said. Her smile radiated warmth. She sighed and her eyes seemed to glaze over. “Do you think I’m cuter than my sisters?”

"OK, OK, meet and greet time is over," Sophie said, breaking in. Her voice abruptly serious. "Come on Jeff, we need to go give Lauren her birthday presents."

"Let's give it to her later, you're in no state to…" I began. Sophie glared at me so hard, I felt my bones begin to crack.” 

"Wait here," I onceded and darted back into the house. When I returned I was carrying two small boxes. "This is for you," I told her.

“Open the bigger box!” Sophie gleefully instructed, “It was my choice… just so lover boy here doesn’t get embarrassed.” 

Lauren sat up and did as she was told, carefully unwrapping the first box. Inside was a very skimpy lingerie set. Sophie was right, she had chosen it, paid for it and I had nothing to do with it. The material looked like silk, quite expensive, and bright red. Lauren held up the lacey bra and panties with a very happy look on her face.

“Thanks, Sophie! You listened! I am in desperate need of some sexy lingerie and this looks… wow!”

I think my face was as red as the underwear.

“I’ll give you a show sometime,” she said, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Maybe wearing that you’ll finally get laid!” Sophe chortled.

“Then maybe you should wear it!” Lauren joked back, “You’re such a prude, Soph! Thank you though. Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied as Sophie slumped on the lounger, clearly running on empty. “This is for you, too.” I handed her the second smaller box.

“Jeff chose it, I had nothing to do with it.” Sophie mumbled as she lay back.

Lauren looked dismayed. "I can't accept a gift from you, Jeff," she said.

"Just have a look," I begged.

When she opened the box she found a thin gold necklace that held a small ornament made of two different metals elaborately interwoven. "It's amazing," she said. "What is it?"

"It's a Celtic knot. The two strands are interlaced to form an endless loop. I bought it because it makes me think about how you and your family have become intertwined with my life. You’re the sister I never had… and you only turn eighteen once. I wanted to get you something you could keep."

She caught her breath. "That's beautiful, Jeff. But I can't..."

I interrupted her. "It's a common enough design that wearing it won't mean anything to anyone else, but you'll know what it means to me," I told her. "Please accept it." I took it from her and proceeded to drape it around her neck and engage the clasp.

She stood up and walked over to the window to look at her reflection. "It really is beautiful," she murmured. Then she turned and kissed me. "Thank you, Jeff."

Suddenly her eyes focused on Sophie… who was already out like a light. "She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

I was still reeling from the kiss. Fortunately Sophie hadn’t noiced. She wouldn’t be noticing anything for a short while at least.

“Let’s let her sleep. I need something to eat and I need protecting from all these strangers. Sit with me, Jeff?” 

We stood in the kitchen drinking cold lemonade and chatting. I loved talking with Lauren. She was smart, funny, and a great listener when I droned on about Sophie, or school, or whatever. I always felt so comfortable around her. I often told her things I wouldn't tell my Mom, or even my best friend, and she always gave me excellent advice. She was a little firecracker when she got to know you, but otherwise she was distant and answered to no one.

That particular evening, I was telling Lauren about my YouTube channel and the stream Sophie and I had made the night before.

“Don’t you have a love life?” Lauren slipped into the conversation completely nonchalantly.

“None to speak of…”

“Have you ever thought about… getting it on with Sophie?”

“God no! Of course not.” I replied, probably too defensively.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I mean you can if you want to but I know she can be… distant. Cold.”

“Sophie is not cold…”

“I meant sexually. She’s such a geek and she’s still a virgin!”

“Are you?” I replied, trying to break the conversation. But she answered immediately.

“Of course I’m not a virgin!” This was news to me! And suddenly, I didn’t know how to take it.

“I know you’re a virgin though,” she said in a lower voice.

“So,” I said, taking a quick sip of lemonade.

“Have you done anything… with a girl?” asked Lauren.

“You know I have. I have told you about every one of my failed relationships.” I said sadly, “Maybe I am just a prude… or maybe I really am just bad boyfriend material.”

Lauren laughed, “Oh, I'm sure it's not you, Jeff.”

“It must be. It's like I have some kind of repulsing special power.” I joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

“You just haven't found what you're looking for yet,” Lauren said.

“I'm not even sure how to keep looking.” I sighed. “Maybe Relationships are not worth the hassle?P

Lauren sipped her drink slowly, and there was a long pause before she spoke.

“Jeff.” She looked me in the eyes. Hers were blue, with patterns identical to Sophie’s. Somehow I'd never noticed that before. “Have you considered that maybe you just aren’t looking in the right places?”

I was a little shocked by her question.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she put her glass down on the counter, 'it seems to me that you spend an awful lot of time with Sophie. Girls are going to keep their distance while you two seem so close. I get that you're not but… you're never going get with anyone else while she is taking up so much of your time. She's never going to put out, and…”

“And what?” I asked, my voice surprisingly quiet.

“And I was wondering... I mean, have you ever thought about you and me?”

“Us? Together?”

Lauren nodded. I had to think before answering. The air between us had changed. The conversation was becoming dangerous, but in an exciting way.

“Yes”' I replied. “I've thought about what it would be like.” Lauren smiled gently and nodded. I felt free to continue. “Like, sometimes, if I see you with your boyfriends I… feel… protective… jealous.” I felt myself blush slightly.

'I’ve thought about you, too,' said Lauren. “Have you ever kissed Sophie?'

“A few times,” then I added to throw her off the scent, “when we were younger.”

It had been a hot day, but until that moment I had not been aware of it. Now I felt my whole body getting warmer. I'd never talked about this with anyone, and I wasn't prepared for how exciting it felt.

“So, when was your first proper kiss with Sophie?” she asked.

I glanced down at Lauren's bare stomach, at the smooth, tanned skin that disappeared into the waist of her shorts. Then I slipped my eyes back up her body, to the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard beneath her top.

“We aren’t like that… I haven’t… we haven’t…” I replied, suddenly very nervous. I wasn't sure if she was pressing too far. I wasn't even sure where too far was. She grabbed my hand and led me to the empty dining room.

“Well… I need a proper birthday kiss,” she said, closing the door. “It's something I want to share with you. You’re special, Jeff, and I want to kiss you.”

“I don’t think we should?”

“But it’s my birthday? she pouted, “and you have no idea what it is even going to eel like.” She stared at me with a kind of serious expression. “You just have to experience it to know.”

My stomach was tingling. Neither of us spoke. I put my empty glass down and found myself moving very slowly toward her. We were in a moment. I'm sure you've been there, too. You're with someone, and you both stop talking, and there's this incredible tension in the air because you know what's about to happen, and it's terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

Lauren had been leaning against the table. She stood up straight and turned to face me dead on. I took another step and began to reach out with one hand. I hesitated, and let my arm fall back down. But the look in her eyes made me reach out again, and this time I touched her arm. The simple contact of my fingers on her skin made me feel it was okay. My final step was quicker, and it brought me right to her, mere inches away. I tilted my head, parted my lips, and leaned forward.

My eyes didn't close until our lips met. At first it was a shock, like jumping into cold water. Then my fear blew out like a flame, and it didn't matter anymore that I was kissing Sophie’s little sister. All that mattered was the softness of her skin, the smell of perfume and shampoo, the comfort of her hands on my hips, and the warm, delicate dance of her velvet lips. She was right: it was like nothing I had experienced before.

The first kiss was brief, maybe only six seconds. Our lips separated, and I opened my eyes to gaze into hers. She might have been about to ask me how it felt, when I pressed myself closer and kissed her again. I put my free hand on her waist, my thumb resting against her stomach. My whole body seemed to come alive. My lips were at the center of an electrical storm that raced through me, lighting me up. It was almost more than I could bare.

The second kiss was much longer, and when it was over, I was breathless. Lauren's blue eyes were sparkling. I'd never seen her look more beautiful. That brief moment, as we stood there gazing silently at each other, changed everything for me. It was like admitting to myself all the unformed thoughts and feelings I'd had since I was a little boy; things that I'd been afraid to explore in the naked light of day. After all the fumbling and let-downs of my experiences with other women – though there hadn't been that many – this suddenly felt perfectly right.

Lauren slowly took my hand from her arm and placed it on her bikini top. I was shaking slightly. At first I couldn't move. Then I began to stroke her, curving my hand to the shape of her small breast. I felt the outline of her rigid nipple beneath my palm, and she sighed as I brushed across it. I took notice, and pinched her nipple between my thumb and finger.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I pinched her again, and this time she sucked in breath and bit her bottom lip. I felt a surge of arousal, knowing that I had given her pleasure. For the first time, I could see that I was capable of making someone feel good, on equal terms.

Lauren was breathing hard. She kissed me this time, resting one hand gently on my face. Her other hand moved to my waist, pushing my T-shirt up and holding my side. She caressed me softly at first, then became firmer as she moved up toward my chest. I closed my eyes and let out a fragile moan.

That was when she stopped.

I opened my eyes, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my legs quivering. Her hand was still on my side, but her head was turned slightly away.

“We should stop,” she said.

I panicked. Had I done something wrong? My mind was racing. I felt drunk, and none of it made any sense. All I wanted was for her to keep touching me.

I asked, “Why?”

At that moment the front door opened, and I heard the muffled sounds of her Mom coming into the dining room. I still didn't move. I wanted to cry.

Lauren looked into my eyes. “I want to go further,” she whispered, “if you want to?”

Then she removed her hand and stepped away. I straightened my T-shirt and picked up the empty glasses from the counter. Mom walked into the dining room, preoccupied by the tray of food she was carrying.

“Oh, hi!” she said to Lauren. She looked at me, and I knew that my cheeks must have been flushed. I gave a shaky smile and turned away, back to the dishwasher. “You'll never guess who I just ran into,” her Mom went on.

“Who?” Lauren asked.

And suddenly everything was normal again. her Mom and Lauren talked just as they always did, and I got out of there as quickly as I could and went up to Sophie’s room. As soon as my door was shut I almost collapsed onto her bed. I'd never been so excited, so intensely aroused, in my life. I was dizzy, and I wanted to scream. I closed my eyes and replayed the whole scene in my head, reliving certain details over and over.

When I ventured back downstairs the party was almost over, most of the guests had left. Sophie was still sleeping in the garden and Lauren was saying her goodbyes to her friends.

Jessica caught my arm and told me what a wonderful gift I had bought her sister. Her green eyes seemed to dance and, for the first time, actually looked at me with warmth and respect. Lauren bounded towards us, fingering her necklace and Jessica disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight she planted a huge kiss on my cheek.

“I think my sister is warming to you!”

“Yes, I think she is.” I said, still just as confused as ever.

“Come on, let’s mop up the food before Sophie wakes up with a bad case of the munchies. Mom and Dad are on taxi duty for some of the guests so we will have the dining room to ourselves.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the snug room with the leftovers displayed on the table. As we began to eat, Lauren started to talk.

We talked about Jessca’s recent break up. We talked about some drama her friends were experiencing. All the while, as her right hands were feeding her face… and right foot was casually caressing my leg.

"So what do you know about pleasing a girl, about having sex?" Sophie's little sister asked.

Though now sporting a raging hard-on that filled the front of my boxers, I was still uncomfortable with this conversation. However, I was equally as interested in seeing where it was going.

"I picked up a few ideas from some porno movies and experimented a little… with some ex-girlfriends," I confessed.

"Well," she said, "forget about most of what you have learned from the porno films because for most girls, that's not how it works in real life."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Number one, most girls don't want cum blasted all over their faces. Number two, there's more to it than her sucking you off and you fucking her afterward."

I had never heard Sophie's sister talk like this before, she was being so frank. But, it was definitely a turn-on as I sat across the table from her. Trying to conceal my excitement, I shifted in my seat again so my hardened cock would have some more room in my boxers.

"Ok, tell me more," I encouraged her.

"Girls, at least for me and most of my friends, like to have some attention paid to us as well."

"What kind of attention?"

"Well, one of the best times I had with a guy started very innocently," she began. "We had been making out in my room and he was doing a number on my neck. Nibbling and kissing on my neck and shoulders. It was giving me chills, not to mention making me completely horny."

I could tell from her tone that the memories were still vivid, as her breathing changed slightly and her face became a little flush with color.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything more with him," she continued, "but the more he focused his attention on me without wanting anything right away the more I began to want him."

I so wanted to reach down and rub my cock right then and there, but I was afraid if I did Lauren would freak out or something. So I just sat there, listening intently and contracting my pubic muscles now and then to make my cock move ever so slightly inside my shorts.

"After making out for a little while longer," Lauren continued, "I unbuttoned my blouse for him, figuring he would get the hint."

"Did he?" I asked quickly.

I was having no trouble picturing the scene in my mind as I imagined what he was going to do to Lauren's little, perky tits.

"Oh yes, Jeff," she answered. "He sure did. He undid a few more buttons and took off my top."

"Were you wearing a bra?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling. "I often go without a bra under my tops. It's just one of the advantages of not being too gifted."

My earlier glimpse of her breast confirmed her statement as I was now fully erect and throbbing. All I wanted to do at that moment was to feel my hardness, but I was still able to realise that having this conversation was one thing, playing with my cock while Sophie's sister sat only a few feet away was another thing completely.

"He began to lick my nipples, ever so lightly," Lauren continued. "Then he took one in his mouth and began to gently suck on it."

From my position across the table, I could see she was enjoying her own story. As she shifted in her chair, her pajama top betrayed her erect nipples as they were now pressed firmly against the fabric.

"Do you like having your nipples sucked," I asked cautiously, not sure just how far I could question her before she would decide not to answer.

"Oh yes, most girls do, but don't go all hard and heavy on her nipples all at once. They should be licked or tongued, gently at first, then harder. Same thing goes if you start to suck on them. Vary it up and watch for her reaction. She'll let you know how she likes it, soft or hard or a mix of the two."

I was having a hard time keeping my hand above the table. As I listened intently to Sophie's sister, I reached for my glass and accidentally knocked a fork onto the floor. Leaning down to reach for my utensil, I gave a quick glance under the table at where Lauren sat. My heart nearly jumped from inside my chest as she had her legs spread wide, offering me a view at the now-wet front of her panties. I banged my head on the underside of the table as I quickly sat up, desperately not wanting to get caught staring at Sophie's sister's pussy.

"Dropped my fork," I managed to say as I set it back on the table. I had never looked at Sophie's sister like that before, but found it to be incredibly erotic to see just how much she was enjoying the conversation. I found myself wondering what her pussy looked like underneath those panties. Was she shaved, trimmed or natural? Did she have a tight slit or were her pussy lips full and inviting? Was it sweet smelling or musky in a hot sex kind-of-way?

As if she knew I snuck a peek at her, she gave me a sly smile before replying.

"Well Jeff, you better get another fork then."

"Um, I guess so."

As I stood up from the table, I had completely forgotten about the raging erection that now filled my boxers.

"Mmm-hmmmm," I thought I heard Lauren whisper to herself as I passed by.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," she lied.

Realising now what she was talking about, I quickly sat down at the table again, not wanting her to see just how turned on I was.

"Now, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted," she teased.

"Um, I think he was sucking on your nipples"

"Oh, yeah," she replied distractedly. "Well, after that I wanted to see just what he was willing to do for me. Now mind you, I really hadn't given him any attention yet."

"Was he getting impatient?"

"Probably, but if he knew what was good for him, which he must have, he kept his mouth shut. Well, at least for a few more minutes anyway."

"What did he do?"

"Well, he unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off. Then he began to lick my pussy through my panties."

"No shit?"

"No shit," she answered. "Now, if you want your girl in the palm of your hand, don't be afraid to go down on her. Because if you do, chances are that she will return the favour at some point."

"Um, how do you... what do you do when you go down on a girl like that?" I asked, feeling somewhat stupid.

"Well, this is one area that your porno experience will come in handy. Each girl is different in what she likes, but me? I like for him to start slow, with long licks of his flat tongue. I like him to flick my clit with his tongue, but not too much, because that makes it really sensitive. Anyway, after he flicks his tongue over it, having him suck on my clit really makes me wild. You know where a girl's clit is, right? It's at the top. Don't worry, you'll find it when you are down there. It's like a little nub at the top of her pussy. Then, I love to be tongue fucked. I love to feel a guy's tongue in my pussy, licking my walls up and down. And don't be afraid to use your hands."

As she continued, she again shifted in her seat, standing ever so slightly as to bring one of her legs up into the chair to sit on. It was then Sophie's sister did something that I never expected, not that having this conversation was, but this went way beyond that. Almost nonchalantly, her hand rose slowly off the table and moved down between her legs. My cock immediately rose even further. Sophie's sister, whether it was a conscious decision or just force of habit, was beginning to masturbate right in front of me.

"Think you can remember all of this?" she teased.

Lauren was looking me directly in the eyes, not blinking or gazing to one side or the other, as she continued to play with herself. She wanted me to know what she was doing as she smiled and licked her lips before continuing. It was definitely a conscious decision.

"After he had worked on my pussy for some time, I was ready to do anything for him," she admitted.

"Nice," was about all I could muster at that point.

"So I returned the favour and took off his pants. And I gave him a blowjob he'll never forget."

For the first time, I imagined my cock in Sophie's sister's mouth, sucking me for all she was worth as she looked up at me with those stunning blue eyes. The sound of Lauren's voice again snapped me from my early morning fantasy.

"I'm going to tell you something, Jeff. As great as most women seem to think huge cocks are for sex, I prefer sucking on one that isn't so big. If it's too big, all it does is choke you and then I can't enjoy what I'm doing, so you're not going to enjoy it as much either. A nice, average sized cock is perfect for sucking. You know, something like yours."

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I heard her words. I was so flabbergasted that I couldn't even muster a single syllable.

"Oh, come on," she continued, "I've seen you at the pool enough times to know you're pretty decent down there."

Her comment about my cock blew me away, as did the thought of her eyeing me in my swimsuit. I know Sophie's sister dated quite a bit in high school and college, but I never figured that she would be checking out my penis at the pool, much less make a comment about my size.

"So, did you suck him until he came or did you save it for something else?"

As this point, it seemed like we were trying to outdo each other so I wasn't hesitating to put out some very direct questions.

"Nope, though I have sucked a few guys off until they came. But one thing, if you find a girl willing to swallow, please give her some warning before you pop off. If we are going to swallow for you, I think that's the least you could do."

My cock was raging now, as hard as I could ever remember. Lauren still had her hand between her legs so I didn't see why I should hold back any longer. Watching for her reaction as I moved my hand under the table, her eyes seemed to light up and I definitely heard a soft moan escape her lips as she realised I had taken my hard cock in hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"So what are you going to do now, Jeff?"

"Same as you, Lauren," I replied, smiling.

I slid my chair back from the table so I had a little room to spread my legs out. Reaching down with my free hand, I slid my boxers down and released my cock from the cotton confines. Still fully erect and standing tall, I began stroking myself to an orgasm I never anticipated would be caused by Sophie's sister.

Lauren took my lead and slid her own chair back from the table. Though neither of us could see the other's hand, we both knew there was no turning back at this point.

"So, how do you like to be fucked?" I asked.

Lauren paused a bit before answering as the squishy sounds coming from her wet pussy had betrayed what previously had been subtle fingering. The look on her face told me that she had one, if not more, of her fingers buried in her pussy in an attempt to bring herself to orgasm.

"Mmm, I love riding a nice, hard cock. I love being in control. Deciding how deep I take it. Whether I want to just grind on it or slide my pussy up and down that smooth shaft."

Her words had me on the verge of cumming. As I pictured Lauren riding my cock, I could feel it building inside me, ready to explode.

"Can you feel it when he cums?"

"Oh, yes. It swells right before he ejaculates. When I know he is close, I clench my pussy tight so he can't help but shoot it deep inside me."

My breathing was becoming labored now as I was ready to shoot my load all over the diningroom floor. Pre-cum had dripped down my shaft, providing all the lubrication I needed to finish jacking off.

"Come for me."

Lauren's request was not totally unexpected, but sounded strange nonetheless.

"Make yourself cum for the birthday girl."

My hand began stroking at a feverish pace as I neared my own orgasm. As I quickened my pace, Lauren did likewise as she fingered herself toward relief.

"Mmmmm, I'm cumming,"

As she cried out, Lauren's petite body shook as ripples of pleasure flowed throughout her being.

I watched Sophie's sister's orgasm intently as I stroked myself. She exhibited a sensuality I had never seen in a woman before, much less in Sophie's sister. This exhibition of pleasure was all I needed to meet her demands.

"Uhhhnnnnhhhh, fuck," was all I could manage to say as my cock erupted in a stream of come. I masturbated fairly frequently, but this was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before. Spurt after spurt of white hot spunk splashed onto the floor as I slouched into my chair.

Several minutes passed before either of us could manage to speak. What had been the most erotic situation either of us had probably experienced had now turned into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Lauren composed herself, rose from her chair and began to walk out of the kitchen. As she looked back at me, still sitting at the table with my cock in hand, she smiled.

"Thank you," was all she said before leaving the room.

________

I headed back into the kitchen but everyone was long gone. Hearing a noise from the stairs I looked up to see Lauren disappear into her bedroom. Then I heard a noise behind me.

“There you are! Oh you’ve been with Lauren. I knew you always fancied her!”

“Sophie, lower your voice!” The blonde sister looked rather disheveled, but still beautiful. Her face however looked like thunder.

"I'm going to get a drink," Sophie announced. She headed into the dining room, grabbing my arm. "And so are you."

"Sorry," I said, as Sophie dragged me away, “You fell asleep…”

“She’s in love with you, dummy!”

I tried to explain about Lauren, but Sophie wouldn't let me.

"Why would you introduce us if you don't want us to talk?" I asked. We were both standing in the dining room. I could swear I could smell the cum her little sister and I had just released in there. Sophie had stepped up to mixed drinks, finishing a rum and coke way too quickly for my liking.

"I thought it would be funny," Sophie said, "You know, after what you told me last month. But instead, you had to go and make it all weird."

"Weird?"

"Flirty," Sophie said, "That's not cool. You can't just, like, come on to my little sister in front of me, OK?"

"I kind of feel like she was being flirty with me," I said.

"Whatever," Sophie said, putting her cup down forcefully. "It's not OK so don't do it."

I should have let it go at that. I can't play dumb; I knew exactly what the problem was. And if Sophie had been flirting with one of my friends I'd have been equally upset. But at that moment, well, Lauren was super cute. And I hadn't lied before, I really had crushed on her pretty hard in high school. To have her get all bothered about me, that was the kind of ego boost I couldn't back off of.

Like Sophie had said, our time together was going to end. We weren't in some forever relationship. So, what if I tried to play the field a little? Was it so wrong to want to be a boyfriend instead of a beating-off buddy? And yeah, maybe I'd had a little more to drink than I'd let on, as well.

So instead of being a supportive friend and letting it go, I pushed the issue. "I can do what I want," I said, "You're not in charge of me."

Sophie scowled at me. "Fine, go back to your red headed slut," she said. I waited for the argument. Wanted it. Instead, Sophie gave me one last angry look, then flounced off. "See if I give a shit."

By then, I was too miserable to care. My big victory had turned to ashes. All I could think about was what I'd said to Sophie. How much I'd lost for what little I'd gained. I searched through the house to find Sophie. But she'd melted away. Finally, after about ten minutes of searching, I found her slumped in the bath.

"Heeeeyyyyyy," she slurred out when she saw me. "It's my favorite best friend."

Oh damn, she was far drunker than before. She staggered out of the bath using my arm to support her and I helped her onto a couch.

"Look, Sophie, I want to apologise," I said, the words spilling out of me.

"Don't worry about it, Jeff," Sophie said, "Come sit with me."

I nestled next to her on the couch. Sophie immediately lolled over me, clumsily wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Her soft chest pressed into mine.

"Ummm, Sophie?"

Sophie ignored my half-protest. We were cuddling very intimately on the couch. The house was empty, Jess had disappeared into the night and Lauren was in her room. This was way beyond friend-level affection, and I was too worried about getting caught to be relieved that my earlier transgressions seemed to have been forgotten.

Sophie squeezed me tight, then shifted so our faces were nearly touching. Sophie moved in to kiss me. Not a kiss on the cheek, nor a little peck on the lips like Sophie, herself, had once done. Like Lauren, Sophie had shifted straight into make out mode.

I did my best to slip from her grip before Sophie could complete the kiss. She was surprisingly strong, but I managed to escape. She grabbed me again, though, and held me centered. She leaned in again, this time pressing her lips to my ear.

"I want you to make love to me," Sophie said. Her tongue tickling on my sensitive flesh.

"What?! Sophie, no," I said.

Again, I pushed her off me. Did I want to have sex with Sophie? My conscious mind, my rational aspect, had already decided no. That what we were doing might be dangerous but full intercourse with my best friend was straight up wrong and so wouldn't happen.

But in my heart (and other places further south), I had to confess that the answer was yes. Yes. Oh fuck yes!

In that moment, though, that choice didn't matter. Sophie was too smashed for me to trust her. I didn't want her having regrets. Instead, I forcefully pushed her off me. Sophie fell back into the couch.

"I want to FUCK!" Sophie cried out, throwing her arms in the air. I looked around the room, but fortunately no one else heard her. Or at least they were polite enough to pretend they hadn't.

"Sophie, please be quiet," I said.

"Quiet me," Sophie said, "Stick that big dick inside and shut me up. Make me scream your name. Give it to me, Jeff. I need it."

"No," I said. I held Sophie forcefully by the shoulder.

"You don't want me?" Sophie asked. She shifted from lusty to sniffly in a second. It was a frighteningly fast transformation.

"You're drunk," I said.

"I'm fine," Sophie said, starting to stand up. "I thought you cared about me, but I guess I was wrong."

"I do care about you," I said, "I do want you." God it was hard to confess to it, but I knew I had to. It was freeing to finally speak it. Like jumping out of a plane. Thrilling and terrifying all at once. Heart racing. Stomach twisting. "But not like this."

"Why not?"

"You've had too much to drink," I said, "I won't take advantage of you. If you feel this way, sober, in the morning. We'll do it."

"I want it now," Sophie said, pouting. "This is your one chance, Jeff. You turn me down, you'll never get this pussy. You wont pop my cherry. You’ll never see my big tits or my sweet body. Don't you want it? Don't you want to fuck me? Give it to me good? Fill me up with all your naughty little spermies?"

"I do," I said. Well, maybe not that last part. Getting Sophie pregnant seemed like a really bad idea. But the rest of it? Yeah, I was up for that. But not if Sophie might not mean it.

"Then do it, or I'll find someone else who will," Sophie said.

Again, I searched the room while Sophie spoke, desperately hoping that no one could hear. I needed to get her out of there before she got herself in serious trouble. I wrapped my arm around her back and lifted her off the couch.

"Where are we going?" Sophie slurred as I slowly walked her back towards the stairs.

"Time for bed," I said.

"Finally!" Sophie said, "Took you long enough."

"Not like that," I said, "You need to sleep it off."

"What's the matter, Jeff, am I not hot enough for you?" Sophie asked, then belched. Her breath smelled like a still.

"Let's just get you some rest, OK?"

I helped Sophie up the stairs and led her back to her bedroom. The further we went, the slumpier she got, until I practically had to carry her through her doorway. Carefully, I lowered her onto her bed. She grunted lightly as she hit the mattress and then sighed, smacking her lips with sleep.

For a moment, a protective and perverse part of me considered stripping her out of her party outfit. But I decided it was probably safer to let her sleep it off in her dress. I ran off to the bathroom, grabbed a wastebasket, and put it next to her bed.

"If you need to throw up…" I told Sophie. She was already halfway to dreamland.

"You have to fuck me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I wasn't even sure if she was aware she was talking to me.

"In the morning," I said.

"No," Sophie said, grabbing my arm so tight, it felt like an eagle latching onto a branch. Her eyes went wide and suddenly she was wide awake. "Now! Do me right this second or it's over between us. You can go back to stroking it all by your sad self. I swear to God, it's now or never."

"Fine, we'll do it now," I said.

Sophie smiled at me, then softened. She let her head lay back on the pillow again. "Thaasss a good boy," she murmured. "Ravish me."

"I just need to get a condom real quick and I'll come right back."

"OK," Sophie said. Her eyes were already fluttering shut. "Come back and give it to me. So good."

I extricated my arm and tiptoed back from the bed. Sophie's eyes were shut. She was still murmuring, but I was pretty sure she was passed out or close to it.

When I got to the door, she repeated my name. I froze.

"I love you, Jeff," Sophie said, absently.

"I love you, too," I said.

"No, I mean I love you love you," Sophie said.

"Yes," I said, "Me too."

A moment later, Sophie went completely silent. I waited to make sure, then slipped back outside of her bedroom.

________

I never did find a condom but when her Mom and Dad returned a short time later I explained what had happened and they thanked me for being such a gentleman. Jessica wasn’t going to be coming back home so they offered me her bed to sleep in and I must admit… I was pretty exhausted. That had been a roller coaster of a day.

It was well after two in the morning when I climbed between Jessica’s perfumed sheets. It had been a long night and I was ready for a good night's sleep. The house was completely dark as everyone had apparently gone to bed. I was exhausted, but wide awake. My mind raced with everything that had happened with Sophie -- all that we'd said and done. And hadn't done.

Eventually I guess I fell asleep because the next memory I have is of someone knocking on Jessic’s bedroom door. It felt like they were beating on my skull. Too much alcohol and not enough sleep had left me in quite a state.

Carefully, I got up from bed. I realized I'd never changed out of my slacks and dress shirt from the night before. I limped to the door in the early morning light.

Sophie was on the other side, looking quite a wreck herself. Her dress was half off her shoulder and her golden blonde locks were sticking up all over the place, like a cruel parody of the big hair you'd see in an 80s TV show.

"Hi," Sophie said, looking down at her feet. "I think I threw up last night. In a trash can."

"I left it there for you," I said.

"I thought so," Sophie said, "I don't remember a lot of last night."

"You got drunk," I said.

"Figured that part out," Sophie said. She pushed past me and then dropped onto my bed. I was pleased to see (and smell) that she was at least vomit-free. She snuggled into the pillows. "I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing."

"You really don't remember?" I asked. I sat down next to her. Sophie quickly shied away. Like I'd shocked her.

"I remember drinking a lot," she said, "Last night was hard. It was super uncomfortable to be around those people and realise they have their own lives. You know? Like, when we needed help, where were they? But when we throw a party, they all show up."

"I know," I said, "It was hard for me, too. Do you remember bringing me over to say 'hi' to Lauren?"

"Sort of," Sophie said. She snuggled into my pillow more. "I remember Lauren and I were talking, and she saw you. She said you'd gotten, like, super-hot. I'm sorry, Sophie. I thought about what you'd told me before. About how you'd think about her when we... It made me jealous. I know it shouldn't have. It's not fair, but it did."

"It's OK," I said, "I think I'd feel the same way if one of my friends was perving on you."

"Or if Randy Hotguy was at the party, putting the moves on me?" Sophie asked. She gave me a smirk and, despite it all, she looked so beautiful lying on her big sisters bed in the morning sun.

"Yeah, fuck that guy," I said.

"Well, I kinda couldn't handle it with Lauren," Sophie said, "So I told myself it was funny, instead, and tried to make a whole joke out of it. And then you were flirting with her for real and I got really upset. Like, even more than before."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"Of course, you should have!" Sophie said, giving me a shove. "She's a hot girl and she's totally into you. You don't owe me anything, I'm your friend. I don't have any right to get in your way."

"Still, though," I said, "I could tell it was hurting your feelings."

"Yeah, so I went to go drink more after that," Sophie said, "And then I woke up in my own bed. I guess you helped me. I didn't, um, do anything else, did I? Nothing embarrassing?"

I looked down at the hardwood floor. "You're fine," I said.

"Oh no," Sophie said, "I didn't hook up with some dude, did I? Or worse, one of our stupid, ugly cousins?"

"No, nothing like that," I said.

"Come on Jeff, what happened?"

"You don't remember any of it?" I asked.

"I swear I don't," Sophie said.

"I, um, well I found you sitting on the couch. And you kind of, um, propositioned me."

"Propo-wha?"

"You told me you wanted to have sex. With me. Right there."

"Oh shit."

"You were, um, kind of explicit, being honest," I said.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Sophie said, "Look, Jeff, that whole thing about 'truth-in-alcohol,' you know that's not true, right? Like, I don't want to. It's not that I don't think you're... Oh, Goddammit."

"It's OK," I said, "I get it. You were drunk. I knew it too. You don't have to explain yourself."

"But you didn't," Sophie said, "I mean, we didn't have sex."

"No."

"Even though I kind of forced myself on you?"

"Not gonna lie," I said, "You didn't make it easy." I intentionally eyed Sophie's body and she immediately understood. "But no. I figured, if it was something you wanted, it could wait till we were both sober."

"Thanks Jeff," Sophie said. She sat up and kissed me on the cheek. All things considered, her breath wasn't all that bad. "I'm sorry I said those things to you. I shouldn't have. Look, I don't want to hurt your feelings. You know I care for you a lot. And what we've been doing, I mean, it's awesome. But we aren’t going to do that. No matter what I said in the moment."

"No, I get it."

"You're not mad?" Sophie asked.

"No, I agree," I said, "That's too far. Even for us."

"OK. Thanks. Seriously," Sophie said, "I know a lot of guys wouldn't... Anyway, I'm lucky to have you in my life."

"I'm lucky to have you, too."

We shared a quick, chaste hug. It felt nice to hold my curvy best friend in my arms. I could feel myself responding so I stepped back. An erection was not at all appropriate for that moment.

"I'm going to go clean up," Sophie said as we broke. "I need to apologise to Lauren for getting smashed on her birthday. Buy Mom and Dad a replacement trashcan. Make a fresh commitment to Jesus."

"I support your new life choices," I said.

Sophie got up and tousled my hair. "You should clean up, too," she said, "You look like crap."

It seemed a lifetime ago since Lauren and I had masturbated for each other, but neither one of us had made the slightest mention of it the next morning. I helped her parents clean the house while Sophie nursed her hangover with the help of her little sister. 

There had been a few awkward moments over the next few days after our conversation, the relationship between Lauren and I had returned to normal, with Lauren doing her thing and me doing mine. I had chalked the whole experience up to a couple of horny kids who let a conversation about sex go way too far.

Things slowly settled back into normal. Well, almost normal, in any case.

We spent the whole day cleaning the house -- it was quite an undertaking after the evening before. Sophie was clearly not the only person to have gotten a little out of hand.

As I was wiping down the dining room table, and the sister’s working on the living room, their Mom pulled at my elbow. She motioned for me to join her in the kitchen. She looked very serious -- her mouth turned down like it was meant to make that shape.

"I saw what happened with you and my daughter last night," her Mom said.

Oh no.

"Oh God, I can..."

"I just want you to know," their Mom continued, breaking through me like a battering ram. "I'm really proud of you."

"Wait, what?"

"Sophie was way too drunk last night. You saw what was happening and stepped in. Took care of her."

"Oh, yes," I said, "Yes, I did."

"You're a good friend," she said, "I know this has been hard on you. It's been rough on all of us. But throughout it all, I think you've managed to do just be there for her… for them. You've been steady, a rock the whole family can rely on."

"Thanks," I said. I hadn't realised that she saw me that way. I'd never thought about things from that perspective.

"You've given up a lot. I'd understand if you needed time, you know, to let your guard down, or whatever. Blow off some steam. But in the meantime, I want to thank you. For everything. You’re already a part of this family, remember that."

"It's fine," I said.

It truly was.

The next day marked the last week in August. Her parents and Jessica went back to work. Lauren started going out with friends for her last, pre-high school, hurrahs. For our part, Sophie and I hung out but not like before. She insisted she didn't remember what had happened the night of the party, but the change in our relationship was there, just the same.

Finally, a full three days following the incident, Sophie jutted her chin my way and we ended up in her bedroom. We didn't touch each other or speak; we went back to the basics. A quick press and that was it. But it felt like a breakthrough.

"Turns out being behaved is kind of boring," Sophie said with a shrug after we'd both peaked. I had to agree with her, of course. I assumed that was it, and we'd go back to this way of existing for a little while longer.

But something was different. The idea of intercourse had entered our minds. We'd joked about it before. Taunted and teased. Now though, it felt more like a when than an if. Even though neither of us would admit it to ourselves. Let alone each other.

________

Once again I had been invited to Sophie’s house. She was home alone and thoughts of just how far the boundaries of our friendship could be tested flooded my mind. I wanted her. I loved her. But I also loved and respected her family. The door ws unlocked and I let myself in, heading up the familiar stairs. Sophie was in her bedroom when I saw her. She was wearing a pair of red, bikini cut panties, a yellow blouse, and nothing else. She was lying on her tummy on the floor, facing the far wall, her legs kicked up in the air. Golden hair pooled on the carpet. She had on her headphones, listening to music, and was lost to the world. But to me it looked exactly like she was pressing.

I don't know why I did it. Well, I know why. But not why that moment or why that way. I stepped into Sophie's room. I knelt behind her. And before she became aware of my presence, I climbed on top of her, lowering my shorts-clad crotch onto her panty-covered bottom.

Sophie gasped, then stilled. I waited for her to throw me off, to tell me no, but she didn't. Sophie held in place. My hard-on poking into her perfect ass.

I took it as permission and pressed down. I heard Sophie gasp as the first bits of pleasure filled me. The softness of her bottom, the warmth of her body, it was perfect for what we were doing. Sophie arched herself upward to meet my thrusts.

"Jeff," she said, and I knew that she was about to put a stop to this. I lifted myself off her ass. "This would be better with just underwear."

I froze. Obviously, I wasn't expecting that. I took off my shorts and tossed them to the side. Now in boxers, I leaned back down on top of Sophie. Grinding down, I had to admit this did feel way better. The danger of it only amplifying what we were doing.

We lay like that, moving against each other. When we'd done this before, there had always been this sense of urgency. Even when we had all afternoon to get off, we always raced through.

This time, though, was different. We took our time. I don't know whether it was the position we were in, or the feelings we'd expressed, but we didn't rush. It was almost leisurely. The two of us slowly grinding against each other, savoring every sensation.

But something else was also happening. The previously mentioned precarious nature of the fly of my boxers meant that, as I humped into Sophie's ass, my penis was starting to pop free. I could feel the fabric of Sophie's panties tickle the skin of my dick with each press.

Sophie must have felt it too. She reached back with her hand, stopping our coupling. I thought, once again, that she was drawing the line.

Instead, she pulled her panties down her legs and tossed them off. She lay back down on her tummy.

"Sophie, are you sure?" I asked. The argument roiled inside me; I could almost picture a chivalrous knight fighting a crazed barbarian. A funny metaphor for what I was feeling. And I'm sure you can figure out who was winning.

Sophie tapped her headphones, as if to say that she couldn't hear me over her music. I supposed that was my answer. I took off my own underwear. Both of us were now naked from the waist down. I lay down on top of Sophie. My cock nestled in that most precarious of places.

Bare skin to bare skin. I could feel the heat of her pussy, emanating out like a tiny sun. My hardness against her soft, wet spot. I didn't need to move; this was already beyond anything I'd ever felt.

But I did move. I pressed down. Sophie rubbed up at the same time. The two of us groaned in unison. We didn't need words. We humped against each other. Totally connected. Well, almost totally. Our bodies decided to fix that distinction for us.

The first time, the head of my penis grazed Sophie's pussy so slightly, I hardly noticed.

The second time, my dick actually held for a moment, right at the entry to Sophie's pussy, before slipping away.

The third time, my cock actually went inside. No more than an inch. Barely the head of my head. And yet.

Both of us froze there. Right on the precipice of penetrative sex. I waited for Sophie to tell me 'no.' I waited for my own conscience to cry out. None of that happened. Instead we both sat up.

Sophie was blushing but determined as she started undoing the buttons of her blouse.  I was getting lucky. Once Sophie's blouse was off and she had slipped off her headphones, she seemed to freeze, not knowing what to do next. Manfully I stepped into the breach, first unclipping her bra.

I think I mentioned that she was a very attractive package. Naked, I have to upgrade that rating and mark her as sensational. It was at this point that I decided to deviate from her planned course and start prodding around the edges of a situation too good to be true.

I sat on the side of her bed, smiling and letting my appreciation of Sophie's figure show. I reached out and took her hand and drew her towards me. She was trembling like a deer, wondering if the wolf pack was closing in.

Still smiling, I suddenly flipped her across my knee and spanked her hard, giving her half a dozen solid smacks on her pretty little tush.

I then flipped her around again, sat her on the bed and glared at her.

"Now, sweetheart," I said, "you will tell me precisely what you think you're doing and why you're doing it. You can tell me sitting there, or you can tell me while you're across my knee having your bottom spanked, but tell me you will."

Sophie was astounded. I was supposed to be kissing and seducing her, or being seduced by her, not spanking her and making demands.

She dithered for a moment, and tried to bluff, but as soon as I went to put her across my knee again she collapsed and started crying and trying to talk through the tears.

Not understanding a word she was saying, all I could do was draw her to me and hold her while she cried on my shoulder. Not that this was any hardship. I defy any man to not feel really masculine when a delectable and naked young woman is cuddling you and crying in your arms.

Eventually the crying stopped and Sophie seemed ready to talk, so I sat back, prepared to listen.

"It's Lauren," Sophie told me.

"Lauren?"

"She asked me if she could date you… and by date you, she meant-," she said.

“I understand. It’s ok. I’m not going to have a relationship with your sister if it means losing you.”

"I was wondering what to do," Sophie continued, "and then I realised I have been denying you… denying myself… all these years."

I was speechless. But not for long. I thought the whole thing over and then told her in a calm and considered way that I thought she might be making a little error.

“We don’t need to do this just because you fear losing me. I am always going to be here for you.” 

Sophie was crying again now, but also looking belligerent.

"Just go away," she said. "It's my problem and I'll work it out."

"No. I'm your problem. In case you haven't noticed, you're naked, and I’m naked and we need to talk this through."

"I want you to choose me..."

"Now that I know what you’re worried about, I'm quite willing to go along with you to a point. Are you prepared to listen to my suggestions?"

Sophie glared at me, but nodded.

"OK. Earlier, you were gritting your teeth and preparing to lie back and think of giving me something so very precious because of your sister. Now you are much more relaxed, assuming that it is not going to happen, and you've been too upset with everything to even remember why we do this."

Sophie flushed at this point and covered her breasts, but didn't really resist when I gently pushed her hands back down away from them.

"Now what I propose is that I will make love to you for a while, getting you used to having a man touch you and letting you get used to touching a man. We don't have to have sex. We can always leave that for another time.But I am not going to just be a one night stand. If we start making out tonight, I will expect to see you every night for at least the next week. Then when we do make love, you will have some idea of what you're doing and, on subsequent days, I'll be able to teach each other more."

"But we won't be having sex tonight?" Sophie said.

"Not unless you really want to," I told her. "Are you on the pill?"

When she shook her head the next question was obvious.

"Did you do anything about getting yourself some condoms?"

At her shocked look, I assumed no.

"So how did you intend to protect yourself from unwanted pregnancy?"

The thought had obviously never crossed her mind. All she had been concentrating on was getting her hands, and other parts, onto the object of her little sister's desires.

"It doesn't matter right now," I told her. "Do you… want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Jeff. Are you prepared to give us a go?"

I spent some time thinking. Her initial plan had been to get laid and then get me out. Now she had to consider if she was willing to spend the week learning about sex, and us becoming more than just friends. I finally nodded.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked, and I could see her nerves and the fear of the unknown emerging, along with a flicker of interest. She was finally starting to get curious about what was going to happen.

"I am going to sit down and enjoy the cup of coffee we're going to make together," I said. "No, don't worry, you won't need to get dressed to make it. You can do it while undressed and it will help you to relax with being nude in front of me. Besides," I added, "you have a nice figure and I like looking at it."

Finally, a bit of her spirit started to re-emerge.

"If I have to make it naked, then it's only fair that you should be naked as well," she said defiantly, "so I can get used to seeing a naked man."

I bowed my head in acknowledgement and removed all my clothes. Sophie was blushing, but not backing down, and she watched with interest as I stripped. She blushed even deeper as she realised I still had an erection, and she looked pointedly elsewhere.

We returned to the kitchen where I sat and watched while Sophie made the coffee.

Who knew that having a cup of coffee could be so erotic?

Sophie started off slowly, trying to hide her body while she worked, knowing that she was naked and being watched by a naked man.

And then it slowly dawned on her that she was NAKED and that she was being WATCHED by a NAKED MAN. Her breast swelled slightly, causing her nipples to become erect and her breasts and nipples brought themselves sharply to her mind. Suddenly Sophie was standing slightly straighter, throwing her shoulders back a little and projecting her bosom.

I suspected from the way she started to sway when she walked that she was also starting to get hot and wet, and was becoming even more acutely aware of herself and the fact that I was watching her. And she was enjoying it. It was exciting and it was turning her on.

I have to admit that Sophie's gathering excitement was also turning me on. Even more so, I should say, as I'm sure my cock set some sort of record for instant erection when I first saw her naked.

Anyway, we sat and enjoyed our coffee, and if Sophie seemed to need to pick up her cup and replace it every few sips, with the accompanying swaying of a pair of lovely breasts, what could I do but enjoy the show?

All good things must come to an end, and eventually we finished our coffee. Sophie put the cups on the sink while I just pushed my chair back a little from the table.

When Sophie turned from the sink to look at me, I just held out my hand to her while continuing to sit. Sophie walked towards me and took my hand and I drew her close and directed her gently down onto my lap.

I could see she was a little nervous about having my erection pressed into her side, but I ignored it, just turning her face slightly to face me so that I could kiss her. This time, the tension that had been there earlier was gone, replaced by an honest curiosity.

We just kissed naturally, with me holding her gently, until by some chance my hand reached up and cupped Sophie's breast. She froze for a moment, waiting, but when I did nothing more she resumed kissing me.

Very soon I was playing freely with her breasts, taking it slowly and letting Sophie get used to the feelings my hand coaxed out of her, enjoying hearing her gasp as I pinched her nipples slightly.

It seemed right after a while to drop my head to her breast and start kissing them lightly, tonguing them and sucking lightly on her nipples. With my hands now being in the way I just let it slip down Sophie's body until it was resting in her lap.

Sophie promptly dropped her hand to cover mine, not wanting it to go exploring just yet, but that she quickly found was an error. I promptly guided her hand around to where my erection was pressing lightly against her side, and directed it to touch me.

Sophie let her hand just lie next to my erection, feeling it pressing against her hand but not actually taking hold of it. My hand drifted back to her lap and was gently stroking her mons, with the occasional bit of pressure to pass the message deeper into her.

I continued nibbling and paying attention to Sophie's breasts, not rushing anything, not trying to ease her thighs apart so I could explore deeper, and not pressuring her to actually do anything to my cock.

After a while I could hear her breathing tense a little as she made a decision, and then her hand closed smoothly over my cock and started to explore it. At the same time her thighs relaxed a little more so there was room for me to slip my hand between them if I wanted to.

If I wanted to? Of course I bloody wanted to, but the time wasn't right. I continued to take things slowly, letting Sophie's excitement build, creeping up on her, not charging up and scaring her.

I also wanted to tell her the sort of things she could be doing to my cock with that little hand she had holding it, following with suggestions describing the things a warm and wet mouth could also do to me. And I would, sometime during the coming week, I most definitely would.

Instead, I suggested that maybe we would be more comfortable in her bedroom, where we could continue her education lying down.

This time I escorted her to the bedroom, gently walking her in and easing her onto the bed, where I lay down beside her.

"Now," I murmured, "if I remember correctly, I was getting acquainted with your breasts."

Leaning over her, I again started to muzzle her breasts, maintaining a nice tension in them. At the same time I shifted my position so that her hand fell onto my erection, apparently of its own accord, and Sophie again started her hesitant exploration.

The main difference now was that my hand was extending its reach, happily sliding between Sophie's thighs, pressing and stroking her labia, lightly scratching her inner lips as she slowly flowered under my touch, encouraging deeper exploration. Deeper exploration is what she got.

It wasn't long before my fingers were delving between her lips and pressing inside her, tracing along her inner paths. She gasped when I pressed a finger lightly against her hymen, knowing that the only time she'd be closer to losing her virginity would be when it actually happened.

Moving away from her hymen and vaginal passage, my fingers drifted around inside her, finally touching on and teasing Sophie's clit. She gave a little scream when I did that, her hips lifting off the bed in shock. She dropped my cock at this point, trying to concentrate on the teasing I was doing with her clitoris, not knowing if she should be demanding I stop or begging for more.

From the slight groan she gave when I drew back, I suspect she wanted to demand more.

At this stage I reached off the bed and groped for my trousers. Or to be more precise, the pocket of my trousers and the little packages I had in there. I extracted those little packets and tossed them onto the bedside table, bar one which I kept.

"At some stage," I said as I relaxed next to her, "you're going to have to work out how to put one of these on a boy. Why don't you try it with me?"

Sophie looked at the condom and then at my cock and blushed, but as I mentioned earlier, she had spirit. She glanced at the instruction on the packet and then took me in hand and started rolling it on as though she'd done it a hundred times before. She had it over half on before she gave a little jerk, and turned to look at me with her eyes opened very, very, wide.

It had suddenly dawned on her that the only reason she had to put a condom on me was because it was going to be needed. Her eyes switched back to the task she was doing, and she completed it and then sank back onto the bed without looking at me.

“Jeff, there’s something else?”

“What’s that?”

“I meant what I said.”

“When?”

“When I propositioned you for sex.” She looked directly into my eyes, “I’m in love with you.”

“I meant it too… I love you, ophie.”

"Wait...wait," she said, exhaling heavily, trying to catch her breath, "just… one second."

"Is everything ok?" I was very confused, and not in the mood to be teased.

"Everything's perfect Jeff, it's just...if we do this," she moved her hair from her face, " if we have sex, we can't go back. What I wanted to tell you was… I love you. Not in a family way and not as a friend, but I'm in love with you. Are you ready for that?"

"Sophie," I looked into her deep blue eyes, I couldn't break my gaze, "I have loved you for so long… and I'm prepared to love you everyday for the rest of my life."

"No one can know, Jeff. We have to keep this a secret. My sisters couldn't handle it."

"I know, I know… I'm ok with that as long as you are."

“Then I am ready for you… lover.”

“We don’t have to-”

“Fuck me…” she breathed.

I hooked one of her ankles with one of mine and gently but steadily moved her legs a lot further apart. Her body responded smoothly, and I could tell that although physically she was ready, mentally she still wasn't sure.

I moved between her legs, positioning myself for what was to come, and then I reached up and turned her head so that she was looking directly at me. Keeping my eyes firmly on her, I pressed my erection against her slit, moving it slightly to ease her lips a little further apart, then pressing the head slowly between her lips and into her.

Sophie was looking at me, hard, wanting to look down and watch was happening to her body, but also desperate for the encouragement I was giving her. I wasn't sure what I was saying but it obviously worked, as a tiny smile flittered across her face before a look of concentration came upon it.

I could feel her hips lifting slightly, encouraging my entry, assisting me to push home and down a warm tight passage. I don't think either of us really noticed when I pushed past her hymen, brushing it aside like a stray cobweb. Sophie may have winced slightly, but she was concentrating too hard on these new and exciting feelings to worry about a little twinge of pain.

Now that I was in Sophie I was quite content to just rest for a moment, enjoying the feel of her surrounding me. Sophie, for her part, also seemed happy to just rest, getting used to the feeling of having a man inside her.

We lay quietly, joined together, neither speaking. Then Sophie took a big breath and wriggled slightly against me, wanting more than just having me there, even if she wasn't sure what the more she wanted was. In return, I wriggled slightly back at her, laughing at her sudden intake of breath.

Deciding the time for more vigorous action had come, I slowly pulled out, watching Sophie's eyes widen at the slow drag of my cock inside her, and then hearing her give a little cry as I thrust sharply back inside her.

Again I did a slow withdrawal with a sharp return, feeling Sophie starting to move in unison with me. Soon I was moving faster, setting up a nice rocking motion, getting Sophie to match me as I moved.

I'm not sure what I was saying to her, but I was whispering words of encouragement as Sophie thrust herself up to match whatever I was doing. We fell into a steady rhythm, letting our own pleasures blossom and grow while contributing to the enjoyment of each other.

The foreplay we had indulged in had left Sophie's body ready for the culmination, and now that we were actually in session, so to speak, her climax was coming up fast.

Not quite fast enough for me, however, as I could feel my own climax rushing down upon me, and I was in no mood to try to hold it off. Thrusting sharply, I still managed to slip a hand between us, darting my finger into Sophie and flicking her clit again.

The extra touch was like lighting the fuse. She screamed and exploded under me, while my own climax hammered into her.

Afterwards we lay for a while, still joined, relishing the quiet contentment coming from pleasure mutually shared.

Then I withdrew, making a quick trip to the en suite to remove the condom and cleaning myself before returning with a warm cloth and towel so that I could help Sophie clean up.

Then we resumed the quiet lying together, neither interested in speaking.

Sophie was half asleep, cuddling me, when I asked her the question.

"Would you like me to go home now, or would you rather I stay the night? I'd rather I spend the night here, and we can continue this in the morning."

Sophie didn't actually say either way, she just opened her eyes a bit wider and smiled, then snuggled closer holding me there. I didn't fight it.

________

'Wake up Jeff. We did it! We’re no longer virgins!"

I looked at the clock beside my bed and groaned. It was only 3am. Sophie moved her body over mine on the bed and grabbed my wrists. She leaned forward and began to lick my face. I always hated when she did that when we were kids. I began to buck my hips to push her off me. Suddenly Sophie gave a jump and pulled her face away from mine. She got a devilish look on her face. I looked from her face to her chest for a fraction of a second. She was still completely naked.

Suddenly Sophie was leaning in and I thought she was going to lick me again. My hips shot up again and Sophie ground down against me. Now I knew what had caught her attention. I had morning wood and when I bucked against her she felt it hit her. She locked her lips to mine and began to kiss me. She kept trying to push her tongue into my mouth and I was slowly losing my resolve.

Sophie was grinding her pussy against my cock as it strained against her vulva. Sophie began to moan and I opened my lips and let her tongue invade my mouth.

Sophie's grip on my arms loosened and instead of pushing her off I slid my hands under her, found her breasts and a second later her nipples. I began to stroke and lightly pinch her nipples while our tongues twined together and her hips ground against my hard on.

I kept playing with her tits as we kissed. I took my right hand and slid it slowly down her belly until I found the top of her panties. She let me roll her over to her back as I began to stroke her clit before finding her gash with my middle finger.

"Suck my nipples again, Jeff."

I moved down and sucked her left nipple into my mouth I flicked the pebble like nub a few times with my tongue before nipping it between my teeth and pulling away gently. Sophie pushed her hips against my finger as I inserted into her pussy.

I threw the sheet off my body and Sophie began to drool at the sight of my throbbing member, She gripped it tight in her hand and began to stroke it slowly.

"If you do that too much longer I'll cum all over the bed." I warned her.

She released my cock long enough to strip her sodden panties and then she had me in hand just a millisecond before she had me in her mouth. There was no slow encapsulation, Sophie swallowed my member whole. I felt the head bump against her soft palate just before her throat opened and accepted it. She had both hands on my hips and was directing me fuck her face.

I was in heaven as Sophie licked and sucked my cock with the head going into her throat every three or four strokes. I was on the edge of blowing my load.

"I'm going to cum, Sophie."

She just kept sucking away like I hadn't said a thing. My balls started to tingle and my cock got thicker. Sophie held my cock in her throat as the first jet of cum shot out. Then she pulled back keeping a tight seal with her lips as I kept pumping jet after jet of cum into her mouth. I could feel Sophie swallowing while I came. When I was totally spent Sophie sucked even harder as she milked the last drops of cum out of my shaft.

Before she could say a word I grabbed her hips and flipped her to her back just before diving in to lick her pussy. I lifted her hips with my hands to give me better access to the whole slit. My tongue was moving up and down and in and out. I found her clit and began to focus all my teasing there as I worked my left hand free so I could plunge my fingers inside her. Sophie was moaning non stop as I worked my magic with my tongue. Suddenly my hearing went dead as she clamped her thighs to my head and Sophie's whole body went rigid as she had her first orgasm of the morning.

I stopped everything until she relaxed her hold on my head. Once I could move I slid up her body and kissed her mouth hungrily, Sophie turned around and went down on all fours. I knelt behind her, reached down and put the head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and I thrust inside in one fast push.

"Yes, let’s do it like this!."

I just nodded and went in for another kiss. Gradually Sophie began to roll her hips. I took my cue and began to thrust in and out matching her rhythm. I sucked her right nipple into my mouth and Sophie cried out my name as she had another small orgasm. I could feel her pussy convulsing on my cock as I thrust inside. Because I had cum in her mouth I was going to last a lot longer.

Sophie began to urge me faster and faster and soon I was pounding away as fast as I could while she rolled her hips from side to side. Sophie began to cum harder than she had the first two times. It was hard for me to keep my speed with her pussy grabbing at my cock. I slowed my pace until she came down a little from her orgasm. Once again Sophie was crying out for me to pound her fast. I was drilling her into the mattress when suddenly I felt my balls tingling again. As my cock thickened Sophie wrapped her legs around my hips and refused to let me pull out.

“Keep fucking me!” 

I pushed forward a little further. Sophie lifted her hips to ease my passage. My head snuck in. Halfway down my shaft. I pulled back. Thrust again. Sophie grunted. Finally, I was fully buried inside Sophie's body. Without a condom between us the sensations felt hotter, wetter and one million times better.

“I’m not wearing a condom!”

Sophie turned and looked back at me. Her expression was unreadable -- a mix of total joy and absolute concern. Fear, desire, sadness, exultation. All in one. I was feeling it too.

I drew back slightly, then pushed forward. Sophie's face twisted as the sensation overtook her. Eyes rolled back. Lips curled. She turned forward, resting her head on her arms.

We rolled against each other. Together, truly, for the first time. I heard Sophie make all those familiar noises I'd known from before -- the little gasps and groans. Squeaks and mewls. But now they were coming because of me.

"So good," she gasped.

I couldn't respond, already wrapped up in my own pleasure. The heat of Sophie's pussy, her warmth and wetness, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. Amplifying everything from simple sex to something beyond what we have words for. Intimate beyond intimacy.

I was fucking Sophie. I couldn't get past that fact. It was integral to the experience. The wrongness of what we were doing. The rightness of it. Everything about the physical act was overwhelmed by the emotional part of it.

I reached my hands down and found Sophie's amazing breasts. I squeezed those massive mounds, using them like handholds, as I humped Sophie from behind. I didn't ever want this to end.

"Getting... close," Sophie said. Her voice strained. God, I wanted her to cum so bad. But her words had a secondary effect.

"Me too," I said. I was very aware, then, of what we were doing. Had done. The consequences racing towards me, but I couldn't look away.

"Don't stop," Sophie said.

Our movements became frenzied. Moving in synchronicity; racing in opposite directions -- Sophie trying frantically to reach her orgasm, me trying desperately to escape mine.

"Don't stop," Sophie said it again. "Don't you dare stop."

"Trying..."

“Cum inside me, Jeff.”

Sophie's body undulated under me. Even though I was on top, she was clearly in control. She arched and shimmied. Rubbed and cinched. Moved her body on my cock like I was only an object. Faster. Faster.

Finally, she stopped. Stilled.

"Ohhhhh" the word slipped out of her like steam. Pitch rising till it left my spectrum.

I'd seen Sophie's orgasm so many times, I could replay it in detail on the back of my eyelids. Heard it so often, I could write it as a symphony. Even smelled it, her femininity filling my nostrils as she flooded.

But I'd never felt Sophie's cum before.

Her pussy clamped down, sealing shut like it was one of those vacuum storage bags. Air tight. Her butt slammed downward. Her back arched. We don't need to invent a cock-milking machine. Sophie already has the perfect one built in.

"Sophie, I'm..." My inner knight took one final, desperate swing.

"Dooooon't. Stooooop," Sophie said, a low deep rumble I could barely make out.

It didn't matter what she'd said. It was already too late. The pleasant tingle in my penis turned into a spark, racing fire down my shaft and straight into Sophie's unprotected pussy.

I let out a long, strangled cry. A river of sperm burst into Sophie's snatch, while an ocean of illicit bliss rolled over my body. I jammed my dick as deep as it would go. Squeezed Sophie's breasts so hard, there would be bruises after. Pressed as hard as I could as plume after plume of pleasure arced out of me.

Vaguely, I was aware of the woman beneath me, enduring her own ecstasy. She told me after, feeling my hot cum splash against her cervix had triggered a chain reaction, taking her already extant orgasm and exacerbating it. Like pumping gasoline into a fire.

Sophie burst. Her brain blew out. Her body shivered and shook. Wordless, primal sounds escaped her lips. She came like she was crazed by it. Like I'd unlocked the higher function of her pleasure centers. Both of us awash in the chemicals of reproduction. Oxytocin and dopamine. Endorphins and adrenaline.

My cock finally gave up trying to find more cum to pump into Sophie's fertile pussy. It didn't shrink, so much as it lay down, exhausted. Sophie's body went limp. I fell with her. Her soft skin felt almost too hot. We rolled off each other, sweaty.

We laid there still coupled until my cock softened and slid softly out followed by a stream of my cum. Sophie and I were touching each other all over exploring with our hands. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one out of the bed.

"I need to wake you up like this more often. That was fun."

"I could get used to it. But I think going to sleep like that once in a while would be fun too."

"Oh fuck," Sophie said. I couldn't tell if it was in celebration or regret. Maybe a bit of both.

She rolled over and sat up. Absently, she dipped her fingers in her pussy. They came out covered in white goop.

"Oh fuck," she said it again. "Oh, fuck me."

Reality raced over me. That post-cum rationality burst forth. What we did. What we'd done. Whatever post-sex satisfaction I had earned was obliterated by guilt. I'd just had sex with Sophie. Changed our relationship forever. Inseminated her unprotected pussy. All of it. My most forbidden dream. My totally enrapturing nightmare.

"Sophie, I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean to." My apology felt so stupid in my own mouth, I couldn't imagine how idiotic I sounded to Sophie.

Sophie didn't say anything. She rolled over and held me tight, like cradling a crying baby. Her bare bottom pressed against mine. I felt a stream of my own semen drip out of her pussy and land, warm, on my thigh. The tickle of her pubic hair on my rapidly shrinking cock.

"It's OK," Sophie said, shushing me. "It's alright. But if we fuck as much as that I'm going to need to go on the pill."

Of course it was too late for that. One of my little swimmers had already found one of her eggs.

We stayed like that, half naked in her bedroom, holding each other close for as long as we could. Neither of us knowing what to say. What to do.

Staring down a suddenly very uncertain future. She kissed me and snuck out to the bathroom as I headed downstairs to grab another coffee and do some cleaning of my own.

I kept the lights off as I made my way up the stairs, as all of the bedrooms were located on the same second floor hallway, though on opposite ends. Entering Sophie’s room, I noticed she was back in bed and fast asleep. I listened at Lauren’s door but there were no signs of life. I decided to head to Jessica’s bedroom and once inside began to strip down and felt the cool breeze from the open window flowing across the room. As I kicked my clothes to the wall, I moved toward the bed.

CLICK

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden and unexpected burst of light from my table lamp, I was stunned to see Lauren lying in her big sister’s bed, a thin, white sheet giving the slightest hint of her nude figure underneath.

"Wha, what are you doing here," I stammered as I stopped in my tracks, unsure of just what direction my life was now about to turn.

"Oh nothing," Lauren replied matter-of-factly, a wry smile spreading across her face as she turned off the light. "I just wanted to see if you remembered anything I taught you."

[powdermelonkeg]

TotK theory, do NOT read until you’ve beaten the Dragon Tears quest:

We never actually see the Golden Goddesses in past games. We see effigies of them, like the three Oscars flying into the sky in Ocarina of Time, or the three identical Hylian statues surrounding the Triforce in Twilight Princess, or the three pearl-holding statues in Wind Waker.

We meet their oracles in Ages and Secrets, and help those oracles get houses in Minish Cap. We meet their agents, the Twilight Princess Light Spirits, or the Skyward Sword dragons, or the three protectors of the Goddess Pearls in WW.

Even in Skyward Sword, we only see their symbols, despite being in the time arguably closest to them.

And now, in present day, when only Hylia is still worshiped, we have Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh. And thanks to Zeldra, we know how they came to be, to an extent.

We know they used to be mortal.

We know they had incredible power.

We know they sacrificed it for something.

A big question that’s always burned me since Skyward Sword is why did the goddesses leave?

Hylia didn’t. She stayed to help, stayed to fight until her last breath, then was reborn to try it again.

It always used to strike me as particularly cold of them that they’d ignore their youngest sister, even with all the power they clearly had at their disposal.

But what if they literally couldn’t help?

To become an immortal dragon is to lose oneself. They wouldn’t have even been aware.

Of course, why would an immortal goddess need to become an immortal dragon in the first place? Don’t they have everything?

Here’s my theory.

In TotK, we’re repeatedly told that the Zonai, when they descended, were praised as gods for their powers. And we know the Secret Stones amplify that power.

Coupled with the fact that we never see any consistent portrayal of the High Trio—

I think Din, Nayru, and Farore were Zonai.

I think they’re revered as gods because they descended from the heavens, as the Zonai were said to have been.

I think that their powers involved the terraforming they did to the world to make it habitable.

I think that Demise lived on the surface first, with the malice, with the gloom, and that the golden trio stopped his conquest of the surface peoples by force.

I think they swallowed their secret stones to keep them from being taken by Demise, since we now know what someone with even a fraction of his power is capable of doing.

I think when they became dragons, the power they shed in their wake coalesced into the Triforce.

I think Demise, when he waged war on the surface peoples afterwards, emerged from the Depths.

I think that Skyloft was Hylia knowing that the sky has always been safe, always been out of reach, and repurposing the lowest of the Zonai isles to protect them. Even though we know the Goddess Statue was on the surface originally, we don’t know where the rest of the isles came from—the Hylians rose with the statue, but spread to the other islands.

And I think that Demise telling Link that Zelda’s form pales in comparison to the magnificence of her former self is referring to the youngest Zonai sister’s former appearance. Because what a downgrade it must have seemed to him to watch one of the most powerful beings in the world, the one that sealed him away, turn herself into one of his prey.

[fairymousse]

Omg, been fighting DLC Final Boss for ages, and I think while the lore is kinda shaky, the themes are perfect.

Spoilers below

So, everyone has been talking about how little base game connection Radahn really has to Miquella, which is true. But thematically, it's excellent.

Radahn styles himself after the two Elden Lord's Godfrey and Radagon. We can see evidence of Godfrey being kind, like his tender moment with Morgott, but general consensus is that he is a warmonger and complicit in Marika's order. Radagon as well is idolised, with his red hair being a symbol of pride. Similarly, the Consort Radahn boss fight emulates both of the Elden Lord boss fights. Radahn is silent, like Radagon, and Miquella on his back greatly resembles Serosh on Godfrey's back. Radahn promising lordship to Miquella makes perfect sense, he's emulated Lords his entire life. The refusal to honour the vow probably came from his loyalty to the Golden Order, which is why Miquella planned to have him killed, then revived.

And like, Miquella calls us "lord of the old order", which is true, but as you think about, Miquella's order is drenched in relics of history. For all his promises, his age of compassion mirrors the Minor Erdtree incantation: the kindness of gold without order. He returns to the site of Original Sin, in the Land of The Erdtree's birth, with a lord at his side who emulates previous lords who enforced a previous order. He is recreating an old order, in the hope it will be different this time. Yes, it's built on blood, but it'll all be worth it this time.

Omg even Marika herself harboured doubts about her order, leading her to shatter it to make room for a better one. Miquella removes his own doubts, meaning his flawed order so similar to the previous one, would be eternal.

Miquella's dream of a gentle world is well intentioned. But his plan to get there feels uninterrogated. As does his choice of Lord. To me, I think Radahn promised Miquella when he was still a Fundamentalist, and Miquella clung to it long after his order changed. And how could Miquella change his mind? He cast aside his doubts. (See my post on St Trina for my thoughts about that).

Miquella is a tragic figure, both self-sacrificing and manipulative, in search of an ideal that he cannot meet. The ends couldn't justify the means, and his order could never come to pass, but the dream was pure and kind. It's brilliant.

I wish this was more explicit though. The gut reaction still is to be quite confused.

[misshoneyimhome]

250 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“I like waking up with you” I Nico Hischier

Summary; While Nico Hischier may struggle with expressing his emotions, leading to occasional frustrations and arguments, a strong relationship can withstand any challenge.

Tropes & warnings; no warnings; strangers to lovers, couples fight; very mild-smut descriptions;

Other notes; so as I finished, I sort of realised that it doesn’t really have much plot - it’s just pure fluff; still hope it’s readable 😅 inspired by the lyrics from ‘PILLOWTALK’ by Zayn Malik 🤍

Word count; 1.7K

➼｡ﾟ

You and Nico fell in love quicker than you ever imagined possible. In a way, it felt as if fate had brought you together on purpose, weaving your lives into a beautiful tapestry of love and passion. It was as simple as the fairy tales you grew up with; from the moment you met him on that crisp autumn evening, you knew your life would change forever. It was love at first sight.

Your love story began at something as simple as a charity event for the New Jersey Devils, right at the start of the hockey season. It was a night filled with glamour and excitement, the room adorned in the team's red, white, and black colours.

You were there as a friend of one of the team’s partners, however, as the event had unfolded, you suddenly found yourself standing alone, without the companion you’d arrived with.

Yet, in a mere moment, lost in thoughts as you gazed into thin air, among the buzzing crowd, your eyes suddenly met Nico Hischier's. His big, brown golden eyes captivated you instantly, sparking a connection you simply couldn't deny.

And to your surprise, Nico confidently made his way through the crowd in your direction, never breaking eye contact. And when he stood before you, his smile was nothing but magnetic.

"Hello," he said, his voice smooth with a hint of a sweet yet rough accent. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Though his boldness took you aback, there was just something about him that had you drawn in. And before you knew it, you were engrossed in deep conversation, completely oblivious to the world around you.

"I must admit," Nico said with a playful glint in his eyes, "I didn't expect to meet someone as captivating as you at this event."

His words warmed you, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. "I could say the same about you," you replied with a soft smirk, completely unable to look away from him.

And as the night then progressed, you felt an unexpected strong and deep connection to the Swiss captain, as if you'd known each other for ages. So as the evening slowly drew to a close, you couldn't shake the feeling that this might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

**

To say the least, you were absolutely right. As the weeks passed and turned into months, your connection with Nico only grew stronger. And before long, despite your initial hesitation, you moved from being just good friends to something definite more.

It was no secret between you, that you’d had concerns, influenced by the idea of dating a professional hockey player with a demanding lifestyle and packed schedule. However, Nico dispelled those worries with his steadfast commitment to you. He didn't just start calling you his girlfriend sooner than expected; he proudly introduced you to everyone as his partner anywhere you went, demonstrating his dedication through every word and deed. In a way, it was quite remarkable how, despite the demands of his career, he always found time for you, placing your relationship above all else.

Because Nico's life as a hockey player did indeed involve frequent travel, rigorous training sessions, and the pressure of performing on the ice. There were nights when he returned home exhausted, his body aching from a challenging game. Yet, even in those moments, he never failed to show you love and appreciation. Whether through a heartfelt text before bed or a lengthy phone call while on the road, he made sure you felt valued and cared for.

And especially one aspect of your relationship that remained constant was the physical connection you shared. The chemistry between you was electric, igniting flames of desire that grew hotter with each passing moment. Your intimate moments together were nothing short of explosive, leaving you both breathless and exhilarated every time.

Incredible sex became a defining feature already in the very beginning of your relationship, the kind that would make the neighbours blush and the walls tremble. But you never paid any attention to the noise complaints or the curious glances from passers-by. In those moments of passion, it was just you and Nico, lost in each other's embrace, consumed by the intensity of your love.

During those intimate moments, you felt the deepest connection with Nico, as the barriers between you dissolved and you revealed your souls to each other in the most vulnerable and intimate way possible. Every time you lay intertwined in the aftermath, your bodies still tingling with pleasure, you were certain that you were in love.

However, naturally, challenges arose along the way. No relationship is without its flaws, including yours. Arguments erupted over missed dates or suddenly cancelled plans, tensions escalating like an impending storm. Yet, as always, Nico had a knack for smoothing over rough patches, turning conflict into connection. With just a smile or a tender gesture, he could transform the atmosphere between you from a war zone into a paradise.

It was a turbulent relationship, to say the least. Nico's ability to express his absolute joy and deep love for you was unmatched, his affection evident in every touch and whispered word. But beneath that outward display of affection lay a layer of resilience and reticence when it came to his concerns and fears.

And it didn't take you long to notice that he tended to bottle up his negative emotions, keeping his worries hidden deep inside. Nico was skilled at putting on a brave face, particularly as the team captain, even when the weight of the world seemed to be bearing down on him. And while you admired his strength and resilience, it also led to frustration and tension between you.

There were times when you wished he would open up, and share his fears and insecurities with you. However, whenever you broached the subject, he would shut down, enveloping himself in silence. In those moments, the distance between you almost felt insurmountable, like an unbridgeable chasm. But, no matter how bad your arguments could be, Nico never let you go to bed angry or sad.

One evening, after a rather heated argument, you sat on the edge of his bed, tension thick between you.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Nico said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to shut you out like that. Sometimes I just feel the need to be strong for everyone else, and I forget that it's alright to lean on you too."

His words resonated deeply within you, highlighting the complexities of his role both on and off the ice. You reached out, taking his hand and gently squeezing it as you met his gaze.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Nico," you reassured him, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'm here for you, through thick and thin. We're a team, remember?"

And a faint smile slowly grew and played on Nico's lips as he nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I know," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "And I'm thankful for you every day, y/n. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Navigating the highs and lows of your relationship required a delicate balance. Yet, through it all, your love for each other remained unwavering, and you were determined to face the challenges together, hand in hand.

In fact, maintaining this steadfastness was surprisingly simple; Nico never allowed you to even consider the idea of walking away. And truth be told, you had no desire to. Despite the ups and downs, everything between you felt pure, raw, and intensely passionate.

**

The past year had been nothing but a whirlwind for both of you, with highs of victories and lows of defeats. Throughout it all, you had been each other's support, standing strong through thick and thin. And with the off-season offering a brief break from the hockey season's demands, you cherished every moment spent together, aware that Nico would soon be back on the ice, fully engrossed in the game.

Then as the autumn leaves then began to change, marking the start of a new season, Nico's excitement was beyond palpable. He simply couldn't contain his joy at the prospect of another year filled with his beloved sport and the woman who had captivated his heart.

And as you lay together in the gentle morning light, Nico's words enveloped you like a warm embrace, filling you with love and affection. His vulnerability caught you off guard, as his declaration of love lifted your spirits.

"I like waking up with you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion, echoing the sentiment you had shared countless times before.

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth flooding through you at the depth of his affection. You gently reached out, brushing your fingers against his stubbled jaw as you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips.

“I like waking up with you too…” you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness.

But it was evident there was more on his mind. "I can’t believe I have you in my life... I love you, y/n…" Nico's voice quivered with emotion, his gaze locked on yours as if seeking reassurance.

And you couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled with love for him, mirrored in the depths of his gaze. "Nico," you whispered, reaching out to stroke his hair, "I love you too, more than words can express."

The moment hung heavy with emotion and possibility. Then, with a surge of determination, Nico voiced the question he'd been pondering for a while.

"Move in with me, y/n," he implored, hope and longing evident in his eyes. "Please. I want us to wake up together every day, fall asleep in each other's arms. Will you move in with me?"

And you couldn’t help but let a tear slowly well in your eye at the sincerity of his request, overwhelmed with love for the man before you. So without hesitation, you simply enveloped him in your arms, whispering your answer in his ear.

"Yes, Nico," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion, "Of course I'll move in with you.”

As you held each other in the gentle dawn light, surrounded by the promise of a new beginning, you knew this was just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your love story. With Nico by your side, you felt ready to face whatever the future held, confident that together, you could overcome anything.