Bestowal - Sex Stories

Bestowal

... and I wait with the ripples of the ocean lapping at my thighs for her confession. "In college I was at Cancun on spring break, and during a wet t-shirt contest, a boyfriend persuaded me to go up on the stage, and when a couple of the other girls ripped off their shirts, I did too." "Would you do it again?" I prod. "For a long time I thought about being an exotic dancer. I just never got around to it when I was in college, and now it's too late." "You wouldn't do it for a second job?" "Right," she smirks. "I can just see it now, 'rising young executive wannabe caught showing the world her bush.'" I reveled in her laughter. "How about private parties?" I ask. "Like for you?" "Sure, why not?" "Maybe I will," she suggests. "But if I did, you'd have to give me something." "Like what?" "I'll think about it. It'll be something big, though, bet on it." "Okay," I promise. I know we're just teasing, the chances of anything like this happening are infinitesimally small. "But I want to see you go all the way." "You mean totally nude, not just topless?" She gazes into my eyes. "If he doesn't object, it's a deal." It's coffee time. We walk the two blocks back to the condominium and enter her uncle's timeshare. Entering by the patio door, Christie yells into her bedroom, "Get up, lunkhead!" "Why?" Jake sleepily replies. "For one thing," I holler, "we've got an early tee time." "Shit, I forgot." Christie and I putter around the kitchen, grabbing the cereal, fruit and juices, putting a ...

... pot of coffee on. We'd been sharing this chore every day since we'd arrived, five days before, and I still thrill every time she puts a hand on my arm or we bump together. Left to our own devices, I would have put a move on her long ago. Somehow, perhaps telepathically, I get the feeling that Christie would probably enjoy the pass, maybe even cooperate, but you simply don't try to make your best friend's girlfriend. Well, at least I wouldn't -- you can never tell about Jake. By the time we've got everything on the table, Jake emerges from the bedroom, dressed in boxers and a shirt that doesn't quite cover his protruding stomach, his hair uncombed. Christie pours him a cup, quickly kisses him good morning, and sarcastically tells him, "You look great today." "Shut up," he replies, only half in jest. "When do we have to leave?" he asks me. I look at the clock. "About twenty-five minutes." This was typical. Ever since we'd been in grade school together, I was the one who prodded Jake, made him get his act together. All our friends in high school thought it was perfect when we got the starring roles in the junior class production of The Odd Couple. I, of course, was Felix, the anal-retentive neatnik. Jake didn't have to stretch very far to play the boorish Oscar. Now that he's living with Christie, she's taking up most of my duties. "What are you going to do today?" Jake asks Christie. "More of the same," she tells him. "My thesis is coming along nicely." Christie's taking night ...