Every Which Way

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted, except for personal use.

This piece contains a great deal of explicit sex. You have been informed.

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TWO: HOW TARA MET HIM

T.

I had a chance, cocooned between the two of them, watching her rest, her chest rising slowly and falling slowly, to compare the two of us, to try and figure out why, out of all the people in the world, the two of us were his chosen ones.

What about me? I was tall, I had blond hair I was particularly proud of, and blue eyes that looked soulful and sexy when looking up from a blowjob. But that was where what I was proud of ended. I wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t a beauty queen. I could stand to lose about three dozen pounds, and it had settled unattractively around my middle and my thighs. I had a good figure, I knew – my breasts were large without being too large, and my ass got lots of looks – but I could be better. I knew my butt was too compact for my size, and if some of my extra weight had settled there, I think I might have been more pleased. I kept myself in shape, despite all that, though. I could last all night with the best of them. And I kept myself in prime sexual order, my pussy shaved bare, my clit – a large, protruding button when I was aroused, as big around as a dime – constantly brushing against the satin or silk or cotton or lace of my panties, when I had them on, giving me quiet little orgasms just walking around. I showered every day, the shower’s thin stream as a substitute – a poor one, but a substitute nonetheless – for getting my ass fucked, which led me to get myself off almost every time I took a shower, which was nice, but would never replace real sex.

But I’m getting off target.

Susan is also tall, but she’s got brown hair, and it’s got a little curl to it, more body than mine has. Her eyes are a playful green, and she smiles a lot. Her breasts are a lot bigger than mine, probably an E-cup, although her build matches it. She’s strong, with a powerful frame – I felt those muscles when she held me for my paddling, and when she smacked my ass to get my attention earlier – and a big, round ass that I bet he loves to spank. Her legs are long and strong, too, and she’s mostly shaved, not bare like I am but with a little thatch of hair above her pussy. Her clit isn’t as big as mine, but her skin is just as pale. The major difference between the two of us is that she’s maybe 15 years older than I am, and I’m 29. I don’t know exactly how old she is, but she’s older than the two of us.

It doesn’t bother him, so it won’t bother me. I won’t let it.

Don’t get me wrong – she’s pretty. Really pretty. Her features are better than mine, more even, her face a tall oval instead of round, her cheekbones higher. My tongue is longer – I know this for a fact – but her fingers are longer and thinner.

Still, something must have drawn him to the two of us, for whatever reason.

I know what the reason was, in my case.

R.

I first met Tara in late 1996. She found me on AOL before AIM even existed, and we chatted. She was very forward; asked me if I liked anal sex. I’d only had it once, and the girl with whom I’d had it didn’t like it a whole lot, so that didn’t last very long. Still, I had enjoyed it, so I said yes, just for shits and giggles. We chatted for a month or two, and I told her if she wanted to get together some evening in December, when I came home from college to visit the folks, I’d be glad to.

She agreed.

We met at a sort of outdoor upscale mall in Palm Beach. In a bookstore, no less.

She was nice. Pleasant to look at – not glamorous or anything, but she had a nice smile and pretty blue eyes – and she was funny. We walked around for a while, trying to find a place to eat, but everything was busy. We ended up taking her car over to Subway, where we had a couple of sandwiches – what else, really? – and then she suggested we go sit on the beach.

At this point, I figured we would go somewhere like Hollywood Beach, which has lights and hotels and so forth, but we ended up at nearer beach, at the end of the road.

There were no lights.

Whatsoever.

There was a new moon, and not enough clouds to reflect the admittedly-low level of city light.

I guess she planned it that way.

About 50 feet away from where she parked was a lifeguard stand. It had about a ten-by-ten wooden platform, and four struts holding the actual lifeguard hut about six feet above the platform, which was about fifteen feet above the waterline. I suppose it worked. For a short while, we sat and talked, and it came out that she hadn’t been with a lot of guys – she was 24 to my 18 – and the ones she had been with hadn’t been all that fulfilling for her, although they had significantly broadened her horizons.

Then it happened.

Out of nowhere.

She turned to me and immediately started trying to eat me from the mouth down. Lots of tongue. An exceedingly wet kiss.

I didn’t expect it.

But once I overcame her enthusiasm, we tried it again.

It was nice. But she was trying too hard. Eventually I got her calmed down, got her to try kissing a little more gently, which worked out better.

I didn’t expect it to very far, really, but my hand did make it under her shirt and under her bra, which she liked.

She told me it took a long time to get her off – she didn’t say it that way, but she did say it – but that was fine with me. I was willing to make the effort.

We both laid down on the wood, her on her back, and I slid my hand down her stomach, under her shorts and her panties.

I was earnest. I tried everything I knew that used to get my ex off quickly and shockingly, but it didn’t work, and I wasn’t quite willing to go down on her. Not on a first date. (As I found out later, though, she had no such compunction.)

It did take about fifteen minutes, but with her help telling me what she liked and what she didn’t, and intermittent kisses and sucks on her neck, she came. Not hard, but she did come. I figure that, at this point, she was impressed I was willing to try.

I didn’t ask for anything in return. I don’t remember anything being said about reciprocation.

But let’s just say this: remember how she kissed me?

That technique works a lot better when used for oral sex.

Now, at this point, we were trying not to get caught by the random passerby – maybe one every five or ten minutes, but they were there – so my pants didn’t come down very far. Just far enough.

I think nervousness made me last longer than I probably would have – the next time she went down on me, I didn’t last all that long, but this time, after about five or six minutes, I told her I was getting close. After all, it’s not exactly polite to come in someone’s mouth on the first date unless you know she (or he, if you prefer) wants it.

She kept at it, though, so I figured it was all right. Consider, though: I hadn’t had sex in about two weeks, and I’d been too busy to take care of things myself (read: masturbate), so I think I surprised her.

She did swallow some of it – at least, the part that would’ve shot up and hit my chest – but some of it did hit the bottom of my shirt, much to my chagrin (okay, although not much chagrin, considering I’d just gotten an excellent blowjob, and I hadn’t ever had a really good one before, just mediocre ones from my ex, who never got into it like Tara did). Afterward, we laid there and collected ourselves. Then she drove me back to my car, and I stopped off at a convenience store on the way home to try and clean the edge of my shirt.

I later found out she preferred it on her face – or, at least, she told me she wanted it there; I never actually asked her, just did it where she wanted me to, or wherever I was at the time if she didn’t specify. I also did use the big round paddle on her several times, as well as my (at the time) admittedly-meager collection of implements, both over clothing and on her bare bottom, and by the time we had sex for the first time, her bottom was already red. We did it in the shower, and we did it in the pool, and we did it at her house. She was the first to ever give me a “traditional” blowjob – the girl on her knees in front of me.

We went through a lot of my firsts.

That’s why I kept in touch with her.

T.

After everything we’d done, I needed a shower. Susan was sleeping, so he led me into his bedroom. There was a shower cubicle there that was huge, maybe eight-by-five, big enough for four people, easily. We both got in, and he watched, calm, as I removed the shower head from its receptacle and cleaned myself. When I got to my ass, though, he took the head from me and asked me to bend over. I did so, getting on my knees to make it easier to hold myself up – I had an idea of what he had in mind.

I was right.

First the shower misted gently over my still-blushing cheeks, not red anymore (I’d checked) but still fully pink and more than very sore. He turned the water cooler a bit to make that help. I moaned under those ministrations, then yelped with perverse pleasure when, after a couple of clicks, I felt the hard, cool stream of water pounding against the tight opening (less tight now that it had so recently been filled with fingers) and then filling my insides with the water. He held the head closer and closer, my insides getting tighter with the pressure, my pussy aching again, until the water was pounding against the edge of my ass, driving me absolutely batty. I slipped downward, his fingers holding my cheeks apart, teasing me with the spray, until I begged him to touch my pussy.

He didn’t. But he did put the shower head back, and he did help me to my feet, and he did suggest that I hang onto the towel rack, and he did kneel in front of me, and he did reach out with his tongue and ever so gently brush my clit, throbbing and protruding with my arousal.

And I did come.

Loudly.

Echoing.

Screaming.

Soaking.

Shaking.

And then, just as I started coming down, he leaned forward, grabbing my ass and pulling my pussy against his mouth, driving his tongue into me.

It started all over again.

S.

I don’t know how long the two of them were in there before I woke up, but I heard several assorted series of moans and yelps and screams of “I’m coming,” enough to let my hand steal between my legs and quickly bring myself to the edge before I joined them in the shower.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, not really, to see, just him sucking on her pussy, her face screwed up as she came, his face glistening not with water but with her juices, one of his fingers in her ass, probing her.

I’m sorry. I’m lying. It got me even closer.

He noticed me, and let Tara come down from her orgasm, withdrawing his finger and surreptitiously cleaning it off – not that she was dirty, just that it was something he did, even with me, even after we’d spent an hour in this very shower, until both of us were miles beyond spotless – before helping her to the shower floor. He set the water a little cooler – it was lukewarm – and aimed it at her, letting it wash over her, cooling her down, and without a word, I took her place, my hands tight around the towel bar.

There was a quick, hot flash, then a minute where I saw nothing but black fireworks in front of my eyes, a minute where my entire body was concentrated between my legs. When I could look down, his face was covered in my wetness, and I felt my arms tightening up, muscles stiff from hanging on so long.

It had been my first orgasm of the day. I’d been holding it off, trying to make it just like that.

Explosive.

Looks like I accomplished my goal.

T.

Eventually, I turned the water a little warmer, redirecting it so it rained down on my back and shoulders, luxuriating as it massaged me, watching Susan come, her pussy pouring itself out over his face, his tongue lapping up as much as he could in between sucking on her, until she too slid down to the floor, drained.

Ever so carefully, she crawled over to me, leaning against the wall next to me as I cuddled up against her. All thoughts of him left my mind as I felt her body, slick and hot, next to mine, and I knew what I wanted to do. He left the shower, left the two of us there, and went into the bedroom proper (there was no actual door to the bathroom, just a door to the room where the toilet was kept). Through a crack in the doorway between the shower curtain and the tiled wall, I watched him throwing towels onto his bed, almost as if he knew what I was thinking.

Maybe he did.

S.

I was still floating on my orgasmic haze as I felt Tara lift me up and help me out of the shower. The water shut off at some point, I don’t know which, but I didn’t care. I was too out of it.

I remember being led to the bed.

I remember lying down on my back, my legs hanging over the edge.

I remember her lifting them up so the backs of my thighs rested on her shoulders.

I remember that amazing tongue of hers mopping a wide, strong path over my pussy.

I remember it curling around my clit.

I remember little else.

T.

She tasted like girl. That’s all I can describe. I don’t know how to say what she tasted like – a little salty, a little charcoaly, a little sweet – but it was good. I’d never gone down on a girl before, but I wanted to go down on her. And I did.

I like using my tongue on guys. I figured I’d like using it on girls, too.

I used it to lick my way up her pussy, curling it around her clit, and her dam broke again, soaking my lips and coating my tongue.

I kept at it, though, thinking about what I liked when guys went down on me, and I did it.

My tongue drove deep into her, brushing the rough spot at the back of her pussy, the spot I so loved stroked.

My fingers danced over her clit, pinching it and teasing it before rubbing over it in earnest, pulling another orgasm out of her.

That got my fingers wet enough to push at the tiny, tight opening between her cheeks. Her eyes shot open, then rolled back – at least, that’s what he told me later – and my finger pushed into her with no resistance at all, it was so wet.

I lost count of how many times she came, but when she was done, I was sticky and wet from nose to chin, my cheeks smeared with her, some of it drying on one of my breasts. She was out of it, her body barely moving, by the time I slipped away, lifting her feet onto the bed. He laid a light blanket over her, put a pillow under her head, and we left her in the bedroom to sleep – this time, a heavy, dark sleep – while we went to the kitchen for something to drink. I don’t know about him, but I was parched.

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