Bitch, I Love You - Sex Stories

Bitch, I Love You

... I knew she was self conscious—not that I thought she had any reason to be.

Kneeling, fully clothed, on the hard floor, I watched Davin fuck my friend like I was some forgotten voyeuristic ghost. It was a strange, almost out of body, experience. Overwhelming and distant at the same time. Except that a hungry fire flickered in me with every increasingly fierce plunge Davin took into Heather.

The buckle of my jeans clinked against the wooden floor. It was a subtle pin drop of a sound and only through happenstance did it occur between Davin and Heather's excited exhalations. But it did.

"Melly, where are you?" Heather said without opening her eyes.

I reached out for the bed and found her hand. It pulled at me. "Come here."

Tugged instantly onto my feet and then the bed, my jeans were still bundled around one ankle as I straddled Heather's naked body on my hands and knees. Her face, scrunching and relaxing in the same rhythm as she rocked underneath me, was inches from mine.

"Oh my god. Take your clothes off, weirdo," she said. Though she had to say it in sections, between breathy exhalations.

Maybe it was weird that I hadn't stripped. Is not like I'd had a handbook to read. But I was glad I hadn't. Because then Heather, eyes still closed, face contorted by the distractions of pleasure, wouldn't have undressed me herself.

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"Don't be a prude," Heather said, tugging at my panties. They were my last item of clothing, and couldn't really be said to ...

... offer much modesty anymore, as they'd been pulled fully over my ass and were now stuck at the widening of my hips.

"I'm not, it's the angle," I said, trying to get one or both of my legs out straight behind me. But Heather's own thighs, which Davin was constantly shoving back against mine, weren't helping.

"Which ones are they?" Heather asked.

"Green. With the cream stitch. They're nice." Their counterpart, my bra, was lying just a foot from her head.

"They're okay," said Heather. She ignored my protests. "Davin, help a girl out here."

Hands—big and weighty—materialized on my thighs. Through them, I could feel the rhythm of Davin's pumping. They found my panties. Thick fingers hooked under the elastic, and then wrapped themselves tight around it. His forearm flexed and coiled against my butt.

"Don't do it," I warned.

"Oh, he's gonna do it," Heather giggled.

Riiiiip, went my most expensive pair of underwear, until they hung limply around one thigh.

"At least get them all the way off," I grumbled.

"Ooh. Naked Melly," said Heather. A second pair of hands, much smaller than Davin's, traced down my sides. I told myself it was the lightness of her touch that had me shivering underneath.

Heather frowned. "Oh my god, bitch. Have you, like, never fucked before? Arch your back, girl!"

I was indeed rocking the classically unsexy scared-cat pose. But it wasn't for the reason Heather accused. Sure, giving Davin a proper eyeful would be embarrassing, but in ...