Lassiter is just plain flat-on-her-ass drunk. She's in the middle of the dance floor, shoes off, pantyhose snagged, leather skirt hiked, swinging her low-slung ass, bumping and grinding. From the look on her face you'd think there's a cock jammed inside her.

I'm sitting at the bar, which is where I usually am, trying to get Jeannie to agree to blow me, which is what I usually do when I'm sitting there. Not that Jeannie would ever do it. And not that I would ever come right out and ask her for that matter. It's just that kind of back-and- forth thing you do with your bartender, especially when she's got a body that makes your eyes cross and your balls ache at night.

"She's gonna fall and hurt herself," says Jeannie.

"Well, it's her birthday," I say, showing my talent for restating the obvious. I don't know Lassiter very well at all, but she's fun to watch. She's got everybody in the place singing to her by this time, and there's some guy out on the floor with her, grabbing and groping her and rubbing the front of his pants against her ass.

"It's past closing time. I'm shuttin' it down," says Jeannie, turning the lights up. A groan comes up from all the drunks.

I turn around to watch Jeannie put things away. There's a lot of bending involved, and her ass is one of her best features. She turns and catches me watching. "Go get her," she says. "I'll take her home in my car; you can follow in hers."

"What about my car?" I ask.

"I'll bring you back."

I follow Jeannie and Lassiter to an apartment building and we sort of half-drag Lassiter up the steps to the second floor. When we get inside I figure out that this is really Jeannie's apartment. She knows where all the light switches are, and she even knows which kitchen drawer has aspirin in it.

"Bring her in here," says Jeannie, leading the way down a short hallway. I lug Lassiter along, watching Jeannie's ass roll.

In the bedroom, I wait while Jeannie turns back the frilly bedspread and I dump Lassiter on the king-size bed. She lands like a sack of flour. "What the fuh..." she mumbles. 

"Help me get her undressed," says Jeannie. She's already busy, trying to yank Lassiter's shirt off over her head. I grab Lassiter and hold her up while Jeannie does all the work. We stop when we've got her down to bra and panties and Jeannie covers her with a blanket.

Back in the living room, Jeannie flops down in a big chair and waves me to the couch. "Sleep there," she says. "I'll take you to your car in the morning."

"Where are you sleeping?" I ask.

Jeannie gives me this long look with her black eyes. By this time she's got her shoes off and her painted toes are digging into the deep carpet pile. "I'll sleep where I usually do," she says.

"But there's only one bed --" I start, and then stop myself.

She keeps staring at me.

"You're --" I start again.

"Roommates," she says. There's a gotcha-grin on her face by this time.

"Shit."

"See you in the morning," she says. She winks and gets up and heads for the bedroom. "There's a blanket and pillow in the closet by the front door."

She disappears and I head for the closet, a little pissed that I have to sleep on the couch. Then I hear Jeannie's voice again, from the hallway: "Unless you'd like to join us. No monkey business, though."

It isn't exactly the way I would have liked. I mean we're all in our underwear and Lassiter is between me and Jeannie, passed out. Jeannie is curled up facing away and Lassiter is facing me, breathing skunk-breath on me. And they like each other. I'm wasting my time.

I put an arm over my eyes and try to relax. Lassiter's leg is right up against mine, hot and soft, and my cock is getting to be an issue. I reach to adjust it and my hand gets there just after Lassiter's. She kneads me for a few seconds and brings her lips against my ear. "Fuck me," she whispers in hot breath.

She doesn't wait for me to answer. With a quick roll she's over the top of me, yanking the front of my jockeys down below my balls and pulling her panties aside so I can go in through the leg-hole. She is warm and wet; I slide into her as if she's already been fucked two or three times.

My cock is like a stick. Sometimes when I drink I can stay hard for hours without coming. But what I really want to do is come. I reach up and try to get at Lassiter's tits, but she pushes my hands away.

Then she falls forward and braces herself on her arms and pushes down hard like she's trying to get me to bottom out, grinding her pubic bone on mine in little tight circles. I can hear her cunt squishing, working on my cock. Then she's coming, blowing grunts through her nose. Next thing I know she's on her back next to me, leaving my wet cock throbbing on my stomach.

I turn to get a look at Lassiter, and beyond her breasts I see Jeannie's eyes glowing at me in the darkness. She's on her stomach, raised up on her elbows, and the curve of her ass is almost a religious experience for me.

But she's pissed; that's easy to see, even in the darkness. I open my mouth to say something, but before I get a word out Lassiter rolls toward Jeannie, throws a leg over that ass, and mumbles something about being sorry. They seem to fall asleep. Somehow I do too, but I'm still pissed.

Morning happens all at once. Suddenly the sun is blazing through a window shade, hurting my eyes. I look around and figure out where I am. The bed is empty.

I go and piss, and head for the living room. Jeannie is there, slumped in the easy chair, still wearing the same bra and panties from the night before. The way she's slumped makes her breasts sag toward her stomach and her crotch aims at me, creasing her panties. I can jerk off thinking about Jeannie, but not the way she looks right now. I sit on the couch, trying not to stare at her crotch. 

"Where's Lassiter?" I ask.

She stares at my jockey shorts for a few beats, as if to get even. I know my cock is still a little thick from the piss hardon and she stares long enough to make me uneasy. "Left," she says at last. She looks up, meets my eyes. She's been crying.

I wait.

"It was her fucking birthday, after all," she says.

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault. She just wanted a cock to fuck. Yours was handy." She sits up a little straighter and uses her feet to pull a footstool over in front of her. She puts her feet up on it, sprawling her legs, and her cunt gapes under her panties. "We were together two years," she says, moving her legs in and out so her knees come together and separate repeatedly. 

Watching her pussy move like that makes my cock stiffen and I wonder if she's trying to get herself turned on. "Long time," I say, moving my hand to ease my cock. It's as if my hand is her signal. She slides her hand inside her panties and cups herself. I can see her fingers moving slowly, working, kneading. 

"She was so sweet," she says. Listening, I leave my hand on my cock.

"I was her first, you know? I mean, she's been fucking since she was a teenager, but I was her first woman. She would scream. You didn't hear her screaming last night, did you? When she fucked you?"

There's a sneer in her voice. Her fingers are moving a little faster now, and I can see her knuckles rising and falling. I can imagine what's happening in there: her middle finger is slipping inside her crease, making her juices go, making her scent come up. My cock stiffens.

"She would have screamed for me," she says softly, talking to nobody.

I start wishing I could go over and kneel between her knees and taste her. But she seems too alone.

"I knew it wouldn't last," she says, still talking to herself.

I start squeezing my cock. I can feel pre-cum moving in it. "She would come and come and come," she says softly. "My mouth and tongue would get so tired, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't give up on her."

Her breathing is thick and her fingers are moving faster. I pull down the front of my shorts and my cock flips up against my stomach.

Jeannie watches. "She would get so wet," she pants. "My face would be coated with her cunt juice. She tasted so good! So sweet! And when she would stop coming I would push my cunt up against hers and -- Oh, I wish I had a cock!"

I scoot down a little so my butt is about to slide off the couch and start stroking my cock, pointing it at the ceiling.

"Her juice would soak all through my cunt hair and I would press myself against her and I would always come so hard... Oh fuck! Fuck!"

Watching my cock, she moves her hand quickly, up and down her pussy, and I squeeze, stroking hard. A gob of pearl arcs in the air and lands on my stomach, and I can hear Jeannie let go a low groan that seems to catch in her throat. Warm come oozes over my knuckles.

I look at Jeannie. She's slumped in the chair, fingers still moving slowly in her panties. Her eyes meet mine. I see tears.

"Let's go fuck," she mutters, getting up and heading for the bedroom. "We both get second best today," she adds. I follow, watching her ass.
 

Copyright © 2001 Sidney Durham. All Rights Reserved. May not be re-printed in any form without express written consent of the author. Do not copy or post.

You may sample his ebooks available for purchase and immediate download at Renaissance E books titles: Butterflies on a Mirror, Loveseat Stories and his latest, Toy Party.