Friends In Need

Friends in Need

A. Octavia

‘Remember that concert we went to?’ The text came across the monitor while I added a stop to the grocery store to my navigation computer. I re-prioritized the list and deleted the gym.  I hit the startup key and sat back while the car queued for a break in traffic.

‘I remember the parking lot was a freaking zoo.’ I glanced up at the trail of tail lights above me. I’d followed this same routine for more than a year, but the streaks of red against the constellations was still breathtaking.

‘I meant between sets when the lights went out...'

It took a few seconds for the dots to connect, but then a dam of recollection burst. My reflection in the glass grinned. 'Yeah, I remember! That was a great show. You were pretty great company, too, if memory serves...'

'Good show, good company, and if it hadn't been such a long damn week at work, who knows, it could have been another first once you drove me home—but you were always such a gentleman!'

The grin on my face lingered while the engine revved and softly lifted me out of the parking lot. 'Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly ready to make a pass at you back then. Now would be a whole different night, don't you think...?'

Some friendships survived the move. Not a lot, but for the ones that did, the distance and time became meaningless. These weren’t the casual friends variety of ‘people I knew’, or ‘the people I worked with’, and the ‘people that showed up to the same kid-centered activities-- those were just people. Good people, but they weren’t friends. Friends are more than that. They sneak up on you sometimes, too. They hit you out of left field, and suddenly its like they were always there, always a part of your life. Something about them digs in deep, they manage to break through the veneer and graft onto you. They create a space for themselves in your life, you trade with them their absolute best, or worst—you build up a blanket acceptance at an intrinsic level.

The car banked a little to make the climb towards the expressway. The buildings slowly changed from steel and glass monoliths into glittering towers that rose from the surface. As I leveled out and started to pick up speed, I watched this skyway banner that glowed the most obscene rainbow colors rise into view. It marked the start of the express lanes and the colors shifted throughout the week and bled through the spectrum: the crisp red on Monday morning turned pale orange by Tuesday. My car was starting to fill with the crisp purple light that marked the beginning of the weekend as the car changed lanes and circled the outer loop. There was a massive billboard right before the high-speed grav fields launched everyone into sub-orbit. The message blazoned across it in obscenely large letters was always the same, ‘Friends Are Forever.’ I think they were selling long-distance phone service, but it could just as easily been for breakfast cereal. At any rate, in addition to making me want to call my mom while eat a bowl of Lucky Charms, the billboard’s bonus effect was leaving me a touch sentimental. I snapped a quick pic of it and sent it to Joss before the car could give me whiplash.

'You are such a girl sometimes...'

'Who says I’m not just looking for soft spots where I can exploit you!'

'Ooh, by all means, exploit me... vigorously!'

My wife and I had known Josslin and Trent for about ten years. Our wives met a ‘spiritual retreat’ that I suspected was secret woman-code for ‘leave your husbands/ boyfriends at home and run away for the weekend.’ The event schedule looked legitimate enough: a host of different presenters offered workshops and empowerment classes morning, noon, and night. From the stories Dinah told me, everything was ‘amazing’, ‘so uplifting’, and sprinkled with mix of alcohol and armchair astrology. She and Josslin became instant friends that weekend-- laughing, sharing their innermost feelings. Before I’d even met Joss, Dinah’d already traded birthing stories and hung out so often together they’d started cycling at the same time of the month.

I finally met Trent a few weeks later at a barbecue where we felt equally forced at gunpoint to attend. Over a pitcher of margaritas, we started off by confessing how absurdly fast our wives became neigh inseparable. We branched out from there, slowly wading into the sea of husbandry awkwardness. From those humble beginnings, we slowly started hanging out more and more often. Eventually, we poured our hearts and souls out like shots of tequila.

It was about two years in when I got the bright idea that Dinah and I needed move to the other side of the system. Work had slowed down, the economy on Pax was on the edge of collapse… Everything happened so fast-- our whole lives changed in a single season. Dinah and Joss felt it the most. They managed to make the most of the time they had left-- girls nights out, movies, parties, family dinners together... They always flirted, right from the beginning-- but moving away added a whole other level of urgency. The constant sexual tension between them turned into a kind of desperate longing. Whenever Trent and I would call them out on it they’d play it off on alcohol, or 'just something we do to tease you guys,' but I knew my Dinah better than that. Our wives had such a deep crush on each other that when we finally moved, watching them say goodbye was excruciating.

When we sold the house and nailed down our nebulous moving date, it was the final push that finally got our wives away from the giggling fits and teasing innuendos and into a full-blown sexual relationship. We went from ‘when we sell the house’ to ‘holy shit, the dominoes are starting to fall!’ almost overnight. Every night out turned into ‘what if this is our last time...’ and they did a pretty good job of trying to make the most of every minute. I never asked what Trent thought about any of it, but I certainly enjoyed the fully-detailed, vivid descriptions of every touch between Dinah and Joss. Every giggle Dinah heard, the sights, the sounds, the feelings they shared. They’ve both teased me for years. They played to my voyeuristic tendencies and told me how Joss slowly spread her legs for Dinah’s fingers. They’d make sly comments about how she writhed on the edge of my wife’s tongue. The idea of it still gets me hot, and Dinah's teased me to countless orgasms with stories about Joss's nipples.

'You're asking for trouble, you know that, right?' I text, then grinned again when I felt my cock stir in my jeans. The cars around me were shuffling into position for the crosstown express. I felt the burst of acceleration push me back in my seat.

“Oh, I'm not asking, I'm begging... pleeeease?'

Joss followed up her text with a selfie. She was sitting behind the wheel of her car, a red tint splashed across her face from the taillights of the cars in front of her. Her bottom lip was pushed out, but her eyes were layered with wicked intentions.

I felt a stab of lust, and suddenly the light-years between us open like a bottomless void. It wasn't until after we were settled-in on Cirrus that Joss told me how big of a crush she'd had on me, too. That revelation floored me. Sure, we’d all flirted a lot, especially when the drinks were flowing, but there was never any thought that anything would blossom between Joss and I. She and Dinah only seemed to have eyes for each other.

'Are you going to teach me a lesson?' Joss text.

I felt my cock twitch again. If I wasn't planning to stop at the store, I would have tinted the windows and recorded myself masturbating just to tease her. 'No! You'd like it too much!'

We used to text once or twice a month just to catch up on the usual stuff—family, kids, schools-- and then one day while she was stuck in traffic, everything changed. We got to talking about regrets. It started innocently enough—wishing for one last trip to the zoo with the families, one last barbecue… Then Joss said she regretted not getting the chance to do more together when we lived closer. At first I thought she meant more of the same casual family-related activities, so I told her I felt the same way. That’s when I popped off something offhand about how good she always looked. Next thing I knew Joss was sending me selfies. They started off pretty tame, always from the front seat of her car, and then her shirt slowly started losing buttons, or the collar would be pulled down to show off the line of deep cleavage she was so known for around the backyard campfires. I told her if she kept teasing me, I would have to retaliate in kind… She never flinched, and it turned into a regular flirt-fest, complete with full-color stills and the occasional video.

I let Joss lead. The more I lusted after her, the bolder she started to become. She went from teasing me with shots of her cleavage, to sending me glimpses of her bra with her nipples showing through. As it escalated, Joss started to share more and more of herself to me at red lights. Next thing I knew she'd sent me an audio recording of her masturbating in a parking lot. Not to be outdone, I sent her a recording of me jerking off from a bathroom stall at work. Joss followed up by sending me a close-up video of her fingers pulling the moisture between her lips up and over her delicious-looking clit. I retaliated with a video of me slowly stroking my cock, making sure she could hear her own recording playing in the background. Everything went from warm to nuclear so rapidly that I was hard most days walking in the front door after work. Naturally, Dinah liked the extra attention I heaped on her, and she contributed to our little game from time to time by adding her own photos and videos to the mix.

It wasn’t until Dinah and I confessed to Joss and Trent about our more recently uncovered, darker fetishes, that things got really hot between all four of us. It turned out that Dinah loved pain. Not enough to cause any lasting harm, but she absolutely wanted more than just a light pinch of her nipples. The sting of a paddle on the inside of her thigh, spanking her ass with my palm until it was red and tender: those sensations were like rocket fuel to her. Having my hand around her throat made Dinah’s orgasms longer, the throbbing pulse of her body more intense-- it opened up a whole new world for us.

We started to experiment like newlyweds all over again. We found some completely hidden facets about our sexuality and desires that we never knew existed. Dinah and I were both a little nervous about how Joss and Trent would react when we told them, but when we did they weren’t just accepting, they wanted to follow us down the rabbit hole.

'I'm wearing the nipple clamps you sent me...' She text, then followed it up with a photo of her crisp blouse pulled tight across her chest. I could see the hardened tips and the outline of the clovers.

My mouth went dry and I had a hundred images of her putting them on while she was stopped at a traffic light, or in the parking lot before she left, then buttoning up her shirt again before casually heading home. 'Fucking hell, you know I'm stopping at the store, right?'

'Yup. Dinah said don't forget the margaritas. Sounds like someone's getting lucky tonight...'

I adjusted my cock so the precum wouldn’t soak through the front of my slacks. 'If everything goes according to plan, you might get lucky too!'

Joss sent us a video from her bedroom once. God I fucking loved it-- she was on her hands and knees while Trent knelt behind her. She had the camera in front of her and she kept whispering how good Trent's tongue felt licking her clit. She told him—us, how amazing the jeweled plug Dinah sent felt filling her ass. Trent slowly added his fingers to her pussy: two, then three, then all four. Joss had this glazed look in her eyes while she rocked back and forth against his hand. I watched her nipples sway under her and when Joss came, her eyes squeezed shut and she moaned so fucking deeply. I've cum so many times watching that video and my cock still stirs whenever I hear her opening moan like, my body reacting like a Pavlovian dog.

'Ooh! Are you guys going to record something for us?'

'Maybe, if you're a good girl...'

Our friendship morphed from traditional into something else when we moved away. We were more than friends now, but it wasn’t all just sexual hype, either. I learned so many new things about each of us, things we wouldn’t have opened up with if we stayed closer together. The more I shared with Dinah about what I learned by texting with Joss, the more Dinah opened up to me about herself. Those revelations in turn led me to learn more about myself and the cycle would repeat.

'And what if I don't want to be a good girl? What if I want to be bad...?' Joss liked to toy with submissiveness, and she’d been growing bolder about it over the last few weeks. I was starting to like being dominant with her. Dinah thought Joss’ reluctance was all for show, and what she really wanted was a full knock-down drag-out kind of Master/slave play session. I wasn’t so sure, but thanks to Dinah I had my eyes open--ready for any hints that might crop up.

'Bad girls don't get to watch. I'll record us with the lights off...' I reached for my coffee mug and took a sip. I saw her text bubbles start, stop, then start again. She was either trying to come up with a clever response, or taking pictures. I felt the car downshift on its was to the off ramp. I darkened the windows a little just in case she decided to photo bomb me at a red light.

It's amazing how one little text can change your life. 'Oh I'm getting an eye full, one way or another-- we're coming out to see you guys next month!'

I almost choked on my coffee. 'Are you serious? Don't you dare tease me about something like that!'

She sent me a pic of her plane ticket laying on top of her nipples. 'Are you going to be able to pick me up from the airport?'

'Wait, just you?'

'Oh no, I just thought Dinah could pick up Trent. I want to give you head while you drive.'

My pulse started racing. 'You know, you should be careful what you ask for.'

'You think I can't handle it?'

'That's not what I meant...'

'Then don't tell me what you want me to do, Sir. Show me...'

She sent me another picture, a close up of her face. Joss was bent over Trent's lap and I imagined him throbbing in her mouth. Her eyes were closed, her lips stretched tight around his shaft. She looked like she was swallowing him--I fucking hoped she was swallowing him.

'Does Dinah already know?'

'Of course, I can't trust you to organize these kinds of things. You should be at the store by now, so I'm going to sign off. I'm looking forward to my recording later...'

The days raced past. My phone was blew up with pictures, we traded fantasies, Joss even played with herself every day on her way home from work all week. She called me on Thursday so I could just listen to her. Her breathing started soft and even, but as the sound of her fingers dipping into her wetness got louder, it turned ragged. She started to pant, moaning softly, then louder. Joss started teasing me, telling me how badly she wanted my cock inside her. I heard her fingers plunging into herself hard and fast while she talked about Dinah's toys, wanting my wife to fuck her senseless, wanting both of us to fuck Joss at the same time until she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone walk afterwards. I was touching my cock through my jeans, squeezing it to stop the inevitable but before I know could, I came with a burst of heat and wetness that soaked my thigh and made the rest of my drive home a sticky fucking mess. When I told her about it, Joss screamed and I heard her drop the phone. She told me afterward that she ended up having to pull over while her orgasm ripped through her body.

While we were making dinner that night, I told Dinah all about it hushed whispers. She kept flashing me this coy little smile that instantly made me suspicious. “...If this keeps up, I'm going to have to start keeping a gym bag in the car with a towel and spare pair of pants!”

"You know, that's not a half-bad idea. And some of those baby wipes… Know what else Joss told me today?"

I glanced around to make sure we were still being properly ignored by our kids. One was brain-deep in his computer game upstairs, and the other was on her phone, talking teenager politics with her friend from school. The living room couch wasn’t exactly miles away, but it was enough of a buffer that we weren’t in danger of being overheard. "I'm all ears."

Dinah grinned, "She said Trent wants to sub for me."

"Oh, really...?" I watched Dinah bite her bottom lip. Joss had been hinting to me for months that Trent was showing some signs of wanting to be submissive, but Joss wasn't sure she could deal with it, or how.

"No, I mean like really submit. Ride his face while his hands are bound, blindfold him, maybe use the nipple clamps and our flogger on him."

"And you said...?"

"I didn't say anything! God, the idea turns me on, but I don't know if I can!" she whispered. I set aside the salad I was chopping and stepped up behind her. I slipped an arm around her waist and let my other hand reach down over the front of her jeans. I felt her heat and heard a faint moan before she stiffened up and glanced in the general direction of the rest of the house. "Dammit, you have to stop!"

"I think you can do it. I think you'll enjoy it, too." I put my hands on her hips and pressed my face against her neck so I could whisper, "Know what else will be fun? You riding his face while you're fingering Joss."

Dinah groaned and then nudged me out of the way so she could reach the dinner plates. "God, I want to so bad."

I pulled silverware from the drawer next to her and glanced towards the couch. The children stirring, but I still had a minute. "Oh I know you do. And think, you're going to have every chance to make them do whatever you want.” I leaned in closer to her and ran a butter knife down the side of her neck, lightly at first but I pressed harder so she could feel it through her bra when I circled her hard nipple, “they'll do everything you say without a second's hesitation, and I'm willing to bet they'll beg you for more."

"You're bad."

"Thank you. I try."

The last two days before their arrival was a blur of housekeeping and chitchat that wasn't even remotely sexual. I think we'd all reached a saturation point where there was nothing left to say. I think words would have just dulled our senses. We drove separate cars out to the terminal hub since our kids were each attending a sleepover on opposite ends of town. Normally, Dinah and I would have just made a loop, but it gave us a convenient excuse to get Joss and Trent alone on the ride home. The moment we met them at the arrival gate, I could tell things weren’t going to go exactly as planned.

The moment they met at the terminal, it was painfully obvious that any plans I entertained ending with me ravishing Joss on the way home were shot. Dinah wrapped her into a bear hug that they melted together. They both cried, almost sobbing before they just flipped and started to laugh. They left Trent and I standing next to the baggage terminal and found a row of benches along the back wall. Once the bags were safely stowed in our respective cars, Dinah pulled me aside so she could kiss me. She also confessed that Joss was worried about how nervous Trent seemed. I smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. Dinah and Jess really were the core of our little quartet. They shared absolutely everything and they weren’t shy about speaking up. Dinah ran her hands down the front of my pants and gently squeezed my cock. She kissed me again, then told me they hoped I’d agree to drive Trent home. They thought I might get him to relax a little before anything heated up and became awkward later.

The moment I started the car, Trent started to chatter. Constantly. His train of thought was on a high speed loop, rattling off anything and everything that coursed through his mind. It was like his filters had eroded. Joss and Dinah hugged so tightly before they climbed into Dinah’s car I thought they were going to need a pry bar to get them apart again. They both had tears in their eyes again. I remembered that stupid rainbow from the billboard and I smiled despite how cliché I felt. I set the course into the auto-nav so we could both just sit back and enjoy the ride.

“I am so freaking Jealous! We don't have the infrastructure yet to use the auto-nav out by us.” Trent looked at the layers of highway near the terminal. The ballet of headlights moving in almost a perfect orb that intersected at the core.

I nodded, but my thoughts wandered. I kept thinking about Dinah and Joss. I’d lost sight of Dina’s car the moment we locked in our merge pattern so they could have been anywhere by now. There was no way they’d make it all the way home without letting their years of pent up longing explode. I think Trent sensed it too; he started talking about the all the innovations his route to work needed before multidimensional highways were ever going to be a reality for him. The more he talked about it, the more my thoughts wound back to all the times I’ve text Joss while she drove home. I saw flashes in my mind of all the selfies she snapped with her fingers buried beneath her panties, or her nipples exposed at a stoplight. I cleared my throat, “yeah, it certainly makes the commute a lot more productive.”

“Do you know if they're using an integrated gravity-well system or a linear topology?” Trent's eyes were wide open and straining against the darkness at the core of the terminal.

“Honestly, I haven't a clue. I get in, I push the buttons, and zone out,” I grinned.

Trent shrugged, “I get that.” He always had an air of schoolboy curiosity, but without his usual filters in place, he positively dripped with it.

By the time we got to the house, Trent began to slow down enough for me to get a few words in, and once the car stopped in the driveway, he was back to his usual self and we were trading work stories and taking shots at the political hierarchies we’d elected. Dinah and Joss weren't home yet, but we weren’t surprised either. We both laughed when we caught each other checking our phones for the inevitable texts we’d grown accustomed to. I helped him haul in the luggage and gave him the grand tour. We ended up with us in the kitchen where I poured us both a tall glass of rum. We talked about our kids; how his were probably losing their minds on chocolate cookies at Trent's sister's house, and how mine were probably being moody teenagers forced to play board games with their grandmother, all the while pretending they weren't enjoying every minute of it.

Our phones both lit up at the same time, and the same schoolboy grins spread across our faces as a selfie from Dinah filled our screens. Her fingers were pressed deep between Joss' lips. Joss’ panties were pulled aside, and I could see a glossy sheen of wetness on her skin. The way it coated Dinah's fingers made it look like it wasn't her first orgasm of the night. Even the front seat of the car looked like it was splashed. Trent and I glanced up at each other just as a second pic came in. This time we saw Joss' face pressed against Dinah's inner thigh. Joss’ eyes were closed, just like in the pic she'd sent me of her swallowing Trent's cock. It was almost angelic, except for Joss' tongue, reaching out for Dinah's swollen clit. My cock reacted instantly.

"Now they're just teasing us!" Trent said, finishing his drink and pouring himself another.

"And they're pretty damn good at it!" I finished my drink too, and he poured me another.

"I think we should retaliate! Want to tease them back a little?"

Trent looked at me, and I heard a bit of his nervousness creeping back into his voice, “What do you have in mind?”

I grinned, it was almost like he was afraid I was going to lean across the counter and kiss him, who knows, maybe he was afraid I wouldn’t. Dinah had been giving me a highlight reel of her texts with him, but most of it just centered on him being tied up and used. I just shrugged and carried my drink back up to my office across the hall from the guest room. Trent followed me, grabbing the bottle and pouring another round while he walked. Tucked in the back corner of my office was an upright steamer trunk I’d found at an estate sale. Trent's grin widened the moment he saw it. "Is that what I think it is? How the hell did I miss that on the tour?"

"Yup. That's exactly what you think it is." I kept the key in the bottom drawer of my desk and I told Trent he should text a few pictures of the steamer to Joss and Dinah while I unlocked it. Trent drained his glass and set the bottle aside while he did the honors. I heard him snap a few quick shots, and when the hinges creaked open, he took a deep breath as the smell of leather and silicone filled the room. I felt my cock stir again and stepped back so he could get a clear pic. "Feel free to have a look around..."

He came in closer, snapped a few pics of the inside, then started sending them out as out texts. He waited for them to process, then set his phone down so he could leaf through the trunk. Right on top of the drawers was Dianah's strap-on. I saw his fingers tremble a tiny bit as he reached out to touch it. Under the top tray was a collection of straps and harnesses, cuffs, paddles, more toys, chargers, batteries. Under that was Dinah's lingerie. He whispered a soft "damn." as he felt the sheer panels of her bras.

"Want to really twist Dinah's gears?" I reached around him and pulled a pair of leather wrist cuffs from the pile. The chain clinked softly. His eyes lingered on it for a second and I saw him swallow. I wondered, just for an instant, how his throat would feel wrapped around my cock. Dinah teased me once about it, weeks ago, asking what I would do if she wanted to make him suck my cock. I never got the chance to answer her because she started furiously sucking my cock and I just lost it and came down her throat. Trent grinned, then held out his wrists for me.

I wish I could have seen the look on our wives faces when they got the picture of Trent. I talked him out of his shirt, then had him kneel in front of the trunk. He pressed his face against Dinah's strap-on, closed his eyes, and then I clasped the leather cuffs behind his back. I imagined they both just about died.

It wasn’t even ten minutes later when I heard them come through the garage door. They stopped off in the kitchen to make themselves a drink, then came straight up to the office. I took a steady stream of pictures of Trent the whole time, posing him over and over. He was holding the strap-on gently between his teeth when Dinah sidled up behind me and leaned on my shoulder. "Thanks for warming him up for me,” she cooed “Joss is ready for you." Dinah touched my lips, and when I opened my mouth, I could taste what was left of Joss. I moaned and let out a deep sigh.

When I turned around, Joss was leaning against the door. Her hair was a mess, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how she must have been sprawled out across the backseat of Dinah's car. Her shirt looked wrinkled from where it was bunched up under her chin. I didn't say a word as I crossed the room, then swept her out into the hall. I pinned her to the door of the guest bedroom just as a muffled groan escaped Trent from the office. Joss' eyes were glued to the scene unfolding over my shoulder as I bit the side of her neck. She got this dreamy look on her face as Dinah seized control of her husband.

Joss grabbed pulled me into her by the back of my neck, and when she bent her head to kiss me, I almost snapped: I can't even begin to describe the intensity of that first kiss. It was like a blowtorch hit gasoline, lust fused and fury ignited inside me. I grabbed her head, pulled her head back by a fistful of hair bit at her neck again. I forced my knee up between her legs. I felt her heat, then the scorching moisture as she began to seep into my skin. Joss was a molten furnace, churning up so many years of suppressed hunger. I tore at her clothes, her shirt yielded first and the top two buttons bounced off the wall-- her red lace bra barely contained her breasts. Her nipples stood out, desperate for attention. My hand mauled her chest, kneading her skin, teasing and pinching, only to kiss and lick at her, soaking her bra with my tongue. The moment she sighed, I reached up under her chin and tightened my fingers around her throat. The instant she felt my hand press her flat against the door, she let out a ragged "yes, oh fucking god, yes..."

A wet trail of kisses crossed her chest before I tore her shirt all the way open open. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard the fabric rip. Her right breast hung naked in the air, her nipple defiant and so fucking delicious. I tasted her, pulled her into my mouth, squeezed my hand tight around her throat in short bursts while I gnashed at her.

She groaned and shuddered at every touch. She gasped sharply and came, exactly like she did when she climaxed in the video she'd sent us all those years ago. Her eyes rolled back and I suddenly found myself struggling to keep her on her feet. She was so fucking beautiful when I helped guide her fall, dropping down with her until Joss was staring up at me. She had such a mixture of fear and want all over her face. I let go of her neck long enough to start clawing at her jeans, even managing to pull them open without tearing them to shreds. Joss reached for her zipper, lifting her hips just as I got a good hold of her. I stripped them off of her hips and left them knotted at her ankles. Her matching red panties were bunched between her thighs and I could see her lips glistening.

She squealed as she kicked her jeans off, then bit her lower lip as her legs parted for me. I knelt between her spread thighs and dipped my head to taste her. My cock protested against the front of my jeans, begging for release, but I'd waited too long to taste Joss. The moment my tongue licked her folds, she groaned and dug her fingers into my hair,she pulled me into her as hard and deep as my tongue could reach. Dinah had already gone down on her once, but I was hellbent on making her cum again. Joss melted like butter against my lips, and I couldn’t get enough of her. The more I tasted her, the more she had to give and I drank everything she had. Fuck, I would have never come up if Dinah hadn't started making Trent start groaning again.

Joss looked over her shoulder and her body tensed as another orgasm ripped through her. She'd caught sight of the Trent, naked, his face down on the office floor with his hands and feet bound together. Dinah stood behind him wearing her black stiletto heels. She had the toe of her shoe on the tip of his tailbone and we could see her heel slowly easing in and out of his ass. His cock was hard and throbbing, precum glistened from the tip and pooled on the floor. She kept barking at him in a harsh whisper "Yes, that's it, you can take it."

Joss flexed her hips up at me, clearly ready for more even though she never took her eyes off them. I eased my finger into her, waited for her to moan, and then added a second and curled them up to touch her g-spot. I pressed against it, lifted her up and dropped my head down against the carpet to tongue her ass. She groaned and I felt her hands flail at me as she tried to pull me away. When she couldn’t, Joss pulled at her nipples and slapped her hand against the floor as she came again.

I waited for her to catch her breath, then slowly added another finger. When she started to rock her hips up to meet me, I added the fourth. I toyed with her, changed the pattern, sliding in deep, then shallow, fast then slow. It wasn’t long before she writhed under me, and I felt her building up to another orgasm. Her whole body went rigid, her thighs suddenly locked together, her breathing stopped and she screamed like a fucking banshee. She clamped down on my shoulders, trapping my face against her dripping pussy.

When her eyes finally opened again, Joss stared at Dinah as she turned Trent over and brought his throbbing cock into view. It pulsed against his hip in time to his racing heartbeat. Dinah smiled down at him and turned so her feet straddled his ears. Trent looked starved as Dinah slowly knelt over his mouth. She hovered above him, dipping her hips just low enough that she could coat his face without letting him really feast on her. She reached back and started slapping his cock, making his knees jolt.

"You want to be in there, don't you?" I hissed up at her, then Joss swallowed hard and nodded without taking her eyes off of them. I started pumping her harder with my fingers. "Then you'd better ask me nicely."

"Please, Sir?"

I felt another gush of wetness splash against my wrist and drip down my forearm. I kept pumping her with my fingers, turning my hand so my thumb was brushing the opening of her ass. I lashed at her clit with my tongue. "You'd better be more specific."

"Oh God, please, Sir, can I go in there?"

I sucked her clit and flicked her back and forth with the tip of my tongue, making her mewl like a wounded animal. "Why? Why do you want to be in there where your husband is? Is it so my wife can fuck you, too?"

"Oh my God, yes, Sir!" Joss had another short orgasm and glanced down at me, "fuck, please...?"

I stopped and immediately pulled back. I jumped to my feet and grabbed her by her hair and practically dragged Joss to her knees so she could follow me into the office. Dinah smiled at us, but when Trent tried to turn his head to see what was happening, Dinah ground her hips down onto his face before she stood up. The look in my wife's eyes was so wicked as I dragged Joss into the room after me. My cock felt like it was going to tear through my jeans, right through where the wet stain of precum lingered.

I pushed Joss towards Dinah and watched them kiss hungrily. Their tongues smashed together over Trent. I walked around them slowly, then lifted the strap-on off he shelf in the trunk and handed it to Dinah. Trent and I both watched Joss lower herself onto Trent's cock, then she started riding him hard and fast. She only slowed down after Dinah pulled Joss’ hair and whispered in her ear. Putting the harness on was always a slow process, and the way Joss kept slowly rocking her hips back and forth meant she wasn’t in any hurry to speed things along.

I reached over and pinched both of Joss’ nipples at the same time, pressing just hard enough to make her wince and gasp. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, "don't you want Dinah to fuck you, Joss?" I rolled her nipples between my fingers, alternating the pressure. "I know you want it. You've been dreaming about it for years now. It's right there, almost in the palm of your hands... Fuck, don't let him cum yet!"

She stopped moving, shuddering on top of Trent who kept arching his hips into her, panting. He was so close to orgasm, gritting his teeth, straining to cum but Joss forced him to edge away. As sweat broke out across his face, all eyes fell on Dinah who finished tightening the straps on her harness. Trent and I watched as Dinah moved closer, then turned so Joss could kiss the head of the phallus before Dinah pulled Joss' head back and kissed her deeply. I felt like I was going to fucking explode as I slowly backed away so I could watch my wife turn Joss around and force her to her kneel over Trent. Joss followed Dinah’s lead and bent down to kiss and suckle at the head of her husband's cock. She stared up at me the whole time. I felt like Joss wanted me to know how badly she wanted my own cock in her mouth, too. I reached down and gave my cock a hard squeeze through my jeans. I wanted to feel her tongue pressing against my shaft so badly.

"I said move!" Dinah barked, then slapped Joss' ass. The sound was like a gunshot, but it worked and Joss reluctantly let her husband's cock slip from between her lips. I watched her inch forward just enough that her breasts grazed the sides of Trent's glistening cock. Dinah's knees settled on either side of Trent's face and she pulled Joss' hips back to meet her. Trent could only stare up at Dinah's pussy, his tongue just out of reach no matter how much he strained to taste her. Joss stared at me, her mouth open, and moaned as Dinah's toy slowly filled her. After her first thrust, I heard the sound I’d been waiting for-- the wet impact of skin every time their hips met. Every third or fourth thrust, Dinah dipped down against Trent's face, but only long enough to make him want more.

Joss' moans started off softly, but when Trent found her rhythm, he took full advantage of it and started fucking his hips up against his wife's tits. Joss moaned again, then moved her arms closer together. She managed to trap the head of Trent’s cock between her swaying breasts. That one small gesture was the one extra touch he needed. Joss started to moan even louder, which made Dinah grin like a madwoman.

Trent groaned under them while Dinah stared into my eyes and lowered herself onto his face. Trent instantly came like a flood between his wife’s tits. I stepped in close and reached down to touch the side of Joss’ face. I traced her eyebrows, then down the line of her jaw and finally touched her lips. They parted for the tip of my thumb and then she sucked on it gently like the head of a cock. I leaned in and kissed Dinah before stepping back to finish watching.

Joss fell forward and dropped onto her elbows, letting her breasts soak up Trent's cum. Dinah's smile suddenly turned viscous and she slipped into a hard, steady rhythm that made both women’s breasts shake with every thrust. Joss went into a frenzy of moaning squeals as she came over and over, dripping off the hard shaft and splashing over Trent’s face. I watched all three of them sway, drip and cum while I felt my cock gently throb in my jeans. I refilled my glass and took a long pull: they'd only just arrived, and we still had so much left to explore.

The Island

The Island.

A. Octavia

The farthest back I can remember was the way the sea off of the deck railing looked so blue. Deep, soul-crushing blue. I remember thinking that if I stared too long, it was going to be impossible to pull away from. Nothing else existed before the blue: not the ship, not why I was there, not who I was... just the memory of my hands on the rail, watching the sea stretch all the way out to the horizon.

I've been able to pick up some clues from wreckage that washes up on shore. Usually after a good storm or a strong tide. It's only fragments-- bits and pieces that sheared away from the hull of the broken ship that hovered out past the breakers. Early on I was tempted chance swimming against the riptide, but just as I started to wade out, I saw a few bodies wash up on shore. Whatever lived in the water between me and the answers I craved didn't seem to have a discriminating palette. Needless to say, I never tried again.

I used to bury all the bodies after matching up the pieces as best I could. I’ve spent countless days digging up the loose interior sand until it turned into soil. In the end, it just took took too damn long. The tide would shift and the bodies I couldn't carry or drag up off the shoreline would wash out again. That's when I built the pyre. I recorded every detail I could into a kind of ledger I built. I still carry some of the flotsam, I still dig, but I save it for special occasions. It isn't favoritism, mind you-- it's weakness. I can't burn children. I just can't.

So far my ledger has three hundred seventy names, descriptions of clothing, marks, missing limbs… Details--as many as I can stomach. The graveyard has sixty four and every day I watch the horizon. I gave up on rescue a long time ago and settled in my heart that I was going to die here. Someday. Every morning when I wake up I tell myself it's not today. Never today. I won't stop saying it, and I won't make a mistake. When Death finally does get around to me, when my hourglass empties, He better bring friends. A lot of God-damned friends because I am not going quietly.

Anthropomorphic personification. It's a long-winded way of explaining how we as human beings make difficult concepts simple: a way to impart human traits so we can equalize ourselves. We call a storm ‘mean,’ or the tides ‘viscous,’ or like how I call the things swimming among the shoals ‘sinister.’ It's Death in a black robe tapping the sand out of my hourglass just so he doesn't have to wait quite so long. There are days when I swear I can hear his fingers, his bones tapping away at my time.

The island has its fair share of character flaws, too. It took a bit longer than the shoals or the weather to nail down, but I got there in the end. I antholomophicized it. See, its knocked me down, time and time again, just to see if I would decide to get back up. It’s testing me, but I refuse to give it any satisfaction. Whever it acts up, I just fix my hair and tell it it hits like a bitch. I should know-- it takes one to know one.

I've found quicksand, scattered pools of it. After one or two sand baths I started to scatter rocks wherever I went to mark my trails. I used to carry rope, but it was more of a pain that it was worth so I only do it now if I plan to branch out and explore new terrain. Among other amenities: I found a sulfur spring, a pool of what looks like boiling Mercury, and a bottomless pit big enough across to swallow a whale. Birds roost among the rocks around the edge, and I've seen bats fly out at dusk. It happens like clockwork every night, except when they feel a storm coming. They know, somehow. Atmospheric pressure, maybe. A subtle shifting of the wind...

For the record: I've developed a strong distaste for bananas and coconut. Even if I sprinkle in some crab or fish. Raw, roasted, sauteed soup, kababs-- I've eaten them in every conceivable way and after all this time, they just tastes like cardboard now. Sometimes it's refined cardboard, but still cardboard. That being said, I'm not fond of starving.

I'd really like to say my time on the Island has been a Disneyland experience. I’d practically kill for some whimsical jaunt where I crashed ashore, had a musically choreographed montage of struggling to cope, and then at the end of the song I’d flash forward to where I've overcome adversity, mastered the elements and befriended the local animals. I'd like to say that. I could so see myself as an uber-sarcastic Tarzan, or a less-than-kind Jane Goodall, but in case you missed it before-- that island hits like a bitch.

The monkey's were mean little shits, too. If you ever got between one of them and it's tribe, they'd scream, scratch, and bite like a pack of hyperactive little savages. They howled like wolves at every full moon-- I'm assuming because they're pissed off about the big nightlight in the sky. They're wicked fast, too, like flies you can't ever swat; and they’re smart little fuckers. I had to keep finding new and evermore innovative ways to lock up my food stores because they can problem-solve. The little bastards watch and learn.

I’m assuming life’s not all sunshine and roses here for them, though. Some kind of jaguar hunts them. Thankfully I've never had the occasion to see it in the flesh, but I have seen its spoor and the occasional faint tracks. The monkeys become communally silent whenever they feel it. This might land me on the bad karma list, but I'd be lying if I said those silent nights didn't make me smile a little bit.

It was about three weeks in that these five materials crates washed ashore. It was a bit of a shock because there wasn't any kind of storm the night before. The ‘crates’ were these kind of big, shiny, metallic tubs. It took me all day to drag them above the tide line, and then another two or three to figure out how to get them open. The keypads were toast but at least the seals looked intact.

In the end it was worth it. The first crate washed out of one of the shore-leave storerooms, or up from one of in the main holds of the ship: I managed to unpack a few spear guns, some fishing spears to go with them, a handful of face snorkeling masks, flippers, and my personal favorite: some knives in little rubber sheaths that I keep strapped to both my calf and my forearm now. (I broke three blades and dulled two more to the point of peanut butter spreaders before I figured out how to re-sharpen them.)

The second crate was full of canvas: lifeboat covers judging by the size and the shape. They had the massive ship logo all up front and center. They were the same off-white color as the hull with a blue, green, and red 'A L L' overlapping at the center. There were tie lines made of nylon cabling that came in really handy for collecting water and making tent canopies.

The last three crates were empty. I remember being so livid at first. All the time and effort spent getting them open, wasted-- and on what? Empty boxes? Big, metal, ...sturdy... empty...boxes. In hindsight ,it was probably the best damn thing that ever washed ashore. I turned them into multi-function toolboxes that alternated between rather-uncomfortable-storm-shelters, rainwater collection tanks, or food lockers that kept my spoils safe from the aforementioned little simian shits.

Primates aside, I try to view every day is a gift. Some days were easier than others, and I don't tend to dwell on the past much. I mean, sure I wander around from time to time, I take notes, and I accept clues as they appear, but I don't hunt backwards. I promised myself I wouldn't. I refused to waste time actively searching for answers that wouldn’t alter my current state. The future was something to plan for, to be prepared for: I could accept that. Looking for salvation, or some meaning to a life I don't have anymore…? That kind of thinking wasn't going to keep thirst at bay, or fill my stomach when I got hungry. I took my gift as graciously as I could, and I tried my hardest to enjoy my present.

There was an incredible amount of beauty on the island. It was really kind of hard to miss once I stepped back from the constant anxiety of life and death. My first weeks were chock-full of opening my eyes, and then opening my eyes again. I had to take in everything in that I could by mapping, scouting, not dying, and then remember to take it all in again. I marked trails and paths, I copied my notes onto some of the canvas with some volcanic rock I crushed up and mixed with coconut milk. I penned out everything with a little pointed stick and then stitched it all together afterwards like some kind of shipwrecked Mary Shelly.

I learned two lessons from that: the first was that the island wasn't nearly as small as I thought it was. It took me sixteen days to walk the perimeter. I mean, sure, I wasn't exactly trying to make good time, but that's still a lot of freaking coastline. I mapped three volcanic peaks, a few rolling hills that dotted the interior, and I found a handful of freshwater pools and springs. There didn't seem to be any shortage of low-hanging food in a few groves that I marked, and most of all: there was clean water. There was some wildlife like I mentioned before, but nothing on land looked predatory on a human level.

Honestly, the most disturbing thing I found were the rusted remains of human trespass. It littered the shoreline in fragments, odd-shaped memories half-buried every few miles. The evidence came and went at the mercy of the tides.

I think I mentioned this already, but the second big revelation I had was that the Island was a bitch. No, not A bitch. THE bitch. Bitch. Capital B. She didn't just live and breathe like any other fire-breathing, morphing landmass, oh no.... She defied time and space. She laughed in the face of sound physics and flipped it the bird before logic could collectively open its mouth to complain.

I've found gravity wells and time distortions littered all over the place like a minefield. Sunlight refracted through the air in places for no apparent reason. I found half of a banana rotted a day faster than the rest of it when I let it sit on the edge of a clearing once. The line of decay had a freaking scalpel's precision. So yeah, the island’s seriously got a few secrets it seems pretty insistent on taking to its grave. Or mine-- not sure if its decided yet.


Then there were the monkeys, again. To put it mildly, I wasn’t a fan. They were loud, they stole food, they pissed in your water and bathed in urine-- (I never actually saw them do it, but they certainly smelled like it.) They were damn clever, problem solved, and apparently, thanks to me-- they learned how to masturbate. I know! Shut up, humans have needs. So if you combined my pretty healthy libido with being stranded on a deserted island, well, shit happened...

Clothing came and went, it washed up on shore either on its own or attached to the backs of someone who was never going to need it again. Either way, it never held up very well. I was always in a constant shuffle of patchwork outfits, leaves, vines, and nudity. I think it’s fair to say that the wide leaves with the thick veins had this kind of sap that reminded me of aloe. It didn't soothe burns though. It tingled against the skin like some kind of schizophrenic electricity. It came and went, throbbed as if the tactile receptors were all confused. Too much did make me go numb for a bit, but the best part? When the numbness wore off, and by gods it took its sweet-ass time, it made my skin hyper-sensitive. Trust me, if Eve had this instead of a fig leaf in Eden, she wouldn't have given Adam the time of day.

So try to imagine walking around with numb breasts and a numb crotch for two freaking days. Try peeing when you can't feel your vagina. Go ahead, try it, I'll wait. Feel that? The way the warmth just trickles down your leg? Yeah. It's fun, right? It gets better. Now go ahead and imagine needing to pee with hypersensitivity.

I literally pissed myself to orgasm for a freaking week. I'd wake up in the morning, walk over to my latrine and squat over the wooden slats-- then fall over when my body convulsed. It was the most humiliating, and I'll admit, the most intense sexual feeling I'd ever known. And to answer the question before you ask, yes, I've done it on purpose from time to time since then.

By now you might be thinking to yourself 'what's any of that got to do with the monkeys' am I right? No, I didn't start seeing them wearing leaves. The leaves just reminded me that I had a source of entertainment every now and then. Remember how in addition to stealing my food and being a Goddamned nuisance, they liked to watch me from the canopy of trees? They’d usually only do it when I was storing food so they got a head start on how I secured the crates. They watched how I tied the damn knots and then they'd figure out how to untie them. They fucking problem-solved! I hooked up warning clacks once, these kind of wooden reeds that jangled whenever the monkey's would try to work the ropes loose. The monkeys muffled them with leaves. I knotted the crates with just impossible ties after that and they found my knives and cut them. They watched me, and they mimicked me. Sometimes they copied my every move.

So one day I was just off the shoreline, sitting in the shade, drowsy on crab and mango. I was two days off a leaf patch I used to cover my nipples from the sun and bored watching the shoals for wreckage, anything else that needed to be buried, burned, or collected. A soft breeze grazed my skin, warm and gentle, like steamy breath. My nipples stood straight up and I squeezed my thighs together before I even realized I'd done it. I trailed my hands up my leg, brushed off the sand near my knee and started to feel the skin of my outer thighs.

Once I closed my eyes, my imagination shot off like a rocket. It was my first intense, lucid daydream. I remember still feeling the warm air, I still heard the ocean lapping at the shore, but it steadily drifted further and further away until it barely existed. I remember silence swallowing over everything for a breath or two before the sound of city traffic slowly rose out of the waves like a sluggish leviathan. Car horns, the hiss of tires rolling across pavement. I heard the hum of delivery drones and a cool breeze washed over me.

The balcony of the Mirach building was forty floors up and overlooked the Chimera Peninsula. The cocktail lounge was slowly draining as the jazz band wrapped up the last notes of the evening. Two men were talking near at the bar and kept stealing glances at me, one at a time while the other wasn't looking. I wore some kind of black sequined cocktail dress, something so noir it made normal darkness wear sunglasses. I felt the breeze brush up against my skin again. It deftly parted the gap in my dress, it crawled up from my ankle to the middle of my pale thigh. I finished my drink and headed for the men at bar. When I set the empty glass in front of the barman between them, I smiled wickedly, “so who wants to fill me up?”

The one on the right grinned like an evil genius and I felt the warmth of his hand press against the back of my thigh. He set his own empty glass next to mine and his friend's hand touched the small of my back. “I think the lady needs a double.”

My mind skipped ahead, and I found myself out on the balcony again with both men pressed in close to either side of me. They created an amazing tactile sensation: the night air fought against the heat that radiated from their bodies. The drinks were soon forgotten while I alternated between being warmed by one man, and kissed by the other.

They took turns flawlessly, their hands were a perfect contrast. One pair felt strong and powerful, while the other was delicate and precise. Their mouths were just as complimentary. The taller man's lips were fuller, his tongue more adventurous while his friend was full of hidden promises of how he'd feel with his head between my legs.

I felt him pull back just long enough to spin me around to face his friend. The moment my lips parted, I felt him press his body against my back. I felt both of their cocks pushing against me, both men were almost molten with raw energy. A hand reached around me to cup one of my breasts. Delicious heat found its way through my dress and seeped into my nipple a breath before his fingertips pressed it to rigid attention. His friend's hand gently touched my cheek before drifting to the back of my neck so he could pull me in closer. His tongue dueled with mine, darted between our mouths until I let him win. I sighed and groaned, the sounds intertwined, and I felt lighter than air.

The balcony melted away and we were all in a dark hotel room. A sliver of moonlight cut through the curtains, barely revealing our bodies. Both men were topless, their skin a rough patchwork of muscle and scars, gleaming skin and coarse hair. Lips found my own, darting and teasing, hands found the straps of my dress and the zipper on the back lowered soundlessly. Hot breath found the back of my neck and it traced the line of exposed skin. My dress pooled around my heels. I felt the powerful hands push against my hips, inching me forward just enough that my arms wrapped around the other man’s slender shoulders just to keep from falling over. That powerful mouth kissed the small of my back, then trailed lower, right over the curve of my ass before finding his way to the heated core of me. I felt the first thrust of his tongue and I gasped into his friend's mouth. His kisses turned primal, his hands cupped and kneaded my breasts. He only broke the kiss long enough to taste my nipples, one after the other, lavishing them with the same kind of predatory intent as he'd done with my mouth.

The hands on my hips pulled me back against his face. I felt his tongue reach even deeper into me from behind. I felt teeth grazed against my nipples. I almost collapsed between the two of them as my first orgasm ripped through me. They left me panting while an electric current ricocheted between their mouths. It felt so intense that I felt my muscles twitching.

The room swirled for a moment and I found myself laying on the bed. The men had switched positions and shed the last of their clothes. The new tongue kept darting in and out, kept teasing at my clit, it rimmed my ass. Slowly I started feeling his fingertips join the chorus of sensations he created. The man in front of me ran his fingers though my hair as I moaned against the side of his cock. I ran my hand up and down the shaft, felt the smooth texture, dragged the moisture from the head down his full length and waited for that first hiss of pleasure to escape his lips before I tasted him. Every sound in the room turned into a muted shuffling of bed springs and sheets being tangled. I heard choked-off moans and moisture that dripped over fingers. I felt warm soft skin on edge of turning damp with sweat. The whole room was a single breath from exploding into a frenzy.

The man behind me shifted. I felt his mouth start to trail a line of kisses that climbed over the curve of my hip. His fingers never stopped playing me like an instrument. I felt like I flooded his hand, dripping with anticipation. When I felt his weight settle onto the bed behind me, I stroked his friend harder, I swirled my tongue around the crown of his cock and waited for the orgasm building inside me to reach a fevered peak. I was so close, waiting for it for it to wash over me any second. My moans reverberated against the cock in my hand and he suddenly stopped. There was a moment where I felt empty, like I was being punished for some unspeakable crime, and then the head of his cock press firmly against my labia. I pulled the cock from between my lips and stroked him, my forehead resting against his hip.

The man behind me started running his hands up and down my back. I pressed back into him, desperate to feel him inside me, but he pulled away, teasing me again. I was about to say something, anything, I had the words on the back of my throat when he buried himself into me. I felt him spread me open, felt his hard cock fill me. The heat of his breath was against the back of my neck. He filled me to the point I thought I might explode, and then he pulled away slowly just to fill me again.

I lost track of everything. The orgasm I was waiting for hit me like a truck, and then another one I didn’t see coming followed right behind it. Fingertips found my nipples again, and it was just the spark of focus I needed to shake my head out of the fog I'd been in. My fist closed around the cock in my hand, my lips parted, and I let them set the pace. I pulled and squeezed, I groaned and came, over and over. When I felt like I couldn't take any more, they both slowed down, withdrawing in perfect unison. Their hands turned gentle and they caressed my skin, wiped the hair away from my eyes and laid me on my back between them.

The sliver of light just barely outlined their profiles, their cocks glistening. I reached out and touched them, wrapped my hands around them, stroked them together, one in each hand. I watched their shoulders arch, watched their chests heave and waited for them to shudder. I could feel them pulsing, I felt their heat, the way they swelled in my grip. I alternated, fast and slow, hard and then soft. When it felt like they were both ready, I matched the rhythm, I stroked and pumped them at the same time, and when they groaned it turned into one ragged, guttural release. They exploded over me, and I felt their droplets hit my skin like wax poured off a candle. They were hot, but instantly cooled-- and they just kept spilling out onto me, coating my fists. The sound of their wet skin was like heaven.

When I let go of them to start stroking my clitoris again, they both just seemed to melt away into the darkness. The light from the window brightened, and the waves came back. I clenched up on one last orgasm up and rolled onto my side, letting the world take its time coming back. My throat was so dry when I finally came up for air. I felt dehydrated from the flood that I released into the underbrush.

I felt good, really damn good. As I rolled back over and blinked the stupid out of my eyes, I saw one of the monkey's up in a tree. She wasn't even twenty yards from me and she had her furry little hand clenched between her legs. Her thighs were crushed together

around her wrist while she shuddered and rolled over onto her side. She panted and twitched. One of the males approached her and the moment she saw him, she jumped up and tackled him. It was the most surreal-- utterly mind-boggling thing I'd ever seen. I felt so completely exposed; like I'd just been caught masturbating in front of a neighbor's special needs kid.

So I freaked out a bit after that. It was enough to keep my legs closed for a long damn time. The truth was out though, because every other day I kept seeing those little bastards touching themselves every time I went out to get food or re-explore the island. It was one of the most disturbing events of me life, so yeah, if you ever see one of them jilling off, you're welcome. Trust me, I know it's something you just can't unsee...