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This story… in it lies some truth, some fiction, lots of fantasy, and a bit of potential as it’s my second story in my first masturbation series for lit.

I like exploring sexuality, friendship, and love along with the dynamics and fluidity of all three.

It’s fun when I can get things out creatively.

Enjoy the read – I dare you.

-Wynter

*****

The cat videos were at it again, this time with an epic fail. My brain kept wandering to images of sex, debauchery, and lots of laughter and giggles. I’ve always liked my sex with a side of humor.

Usually, kittens ridding on the back of turtles helps curtail the fantasy driven part of my brain – yeah, my brain, that’s it.

Not tonight though. I tried my backup of yelling goats, and my libido ignored it completely.

Instead, my brain helped it perform complicated calculations to sum up all the combinations of whom – between Lexie, Hope and myself – could watch who doing what to whom.

Truthfully, that’s how I ended up watching a video about snails having sex. It’s one of the most interesting and disgusting things I have ever seen. It’s also super interesting that snails are intersex – both male and female – and a major part of their basic biology and sex ritual is fighting NOT to be the female/mom. Fucking weird. Women can have up to 134 orgasms in an hour (yay clitoris!) fuck yeah, I want to be a woman!

The video, however, still wasn’t interesting enough to transition my thoughts away from Lexie and Hope – her wife.

In response to Lexie’s story link I’d sent a link of my own – it seemed the only right thing to do. At the end of the rainbow that was my story link, there were a few different stories. The pot of gold, in my opinion, being the one which vividly detailed my response to Lexie’s story.

When I sent the link, I was trying to be a tease. It was just kind of a nod to say “hey, this is out there, I dare you to read it.” I didn’t actually think they would read it. Okay, I thought it was like a 60/40 shot. Okay, okay, 70/30.

Fuck, okay, I knew they’d probably read it.

So, they read it.

I could handle that. I could handle them reading my reaction to Lexie’s story. I could handle them reading how my mind also traveled to thoughts of … er … play dates with both of them. I could totally handle it. My dorky response to Lexie wasn’t as intense with hundreds of miles between us, so I knew I could pull it off, G style.

Riggggght!

The text response from Lexi almost immediately did me in. All sense of cool almost instantly evaporated.

They liked it!

BOTH of them.

It inspired “inappropriate thoughts” for Lexie.

Inappropriate, run through Lexie translation… Smutty. Got it.

My brain started working overtime wondering what those inappropriate thoughts were. It drove me absolutely nuts because, of course, Lexie didn’t share – tease.

Hope took over the texting, introduced herself, and asked for more. After that, I was done for.

Message from: Lexie

This is Hope (bravo smiley + heart-eyes smiley) Thank you for that story, more please (double cheese-grin smiley)

Message to: Lexie

Hi! Your welcome! We’ll see what my… brain… can come up with. Lol (grin smiley + laughing-smiley with the tears)

Message from: Lexie

(Three red hearts)

I was on a weird high for a minute.

The adorable hot wife had spoken.

My life was becoming weird.

I re-read the text, because who doesn’t? I instantly realized that in my haste to respond and be cool I’d typed the casino oyna wrong fucking version of “your.”

My dork meter went a little haywire. Does one correct oneself or does one just let it go?

Dorks correct themselves. It’s a must.

Message to: Lexie

*you’re

Dorks then cover their heads with a pillow and marvel at how it shouldn’t be possible to make one of the world’s most awful grammar mistakes when talking to hot women.

I grumbled in frustration. I knew I needed to refocus or I would start obsessing about it. Refocusing came by way of – you guessed it – wondering about Lexie’s self-titled inappropriate thoughts.

Maybe that wasn’t the best tactic, but certainly, it was the only effective one I had.

Refocusing my thoughts…

I lay back in the still calm of my room and let my eyes drift shut. Surrounded by a fort of pillows and blankets I was in a peaceful cocoon of my own making. Most nights I slept in a tee shirt and panties with the air blasting enough to give me goose bumps. The cocoon worked to make me feel cozy and warm even amidst the goose bumps. It was illogical, and the electric company loved me for the practice.

I bent my left leg, my foot flat against the bed as my purple painted toes peeked from under the covers. My right leg curved at an angle so that the pad of my right foot barely touched my left foot. My hand drifted down between my thighs, and I cupped my already heated pussy. My fingers danced along the outside of the gray boyshorts that covered my sex. Slowly, I taunted myself; my hand roamed and teased, as I contemplated what Lexie could have been cooking up in that mind of hers.

Maybe she wanted to watch as I kissed and teased my way along the inside of her wife’s thighs. Would Hope giggle? Arch closer? Moan and bury her fingers in my locs forcing me closer to her need?

A moan broke the silence of my bedroom.

The sound startled me. I’d lost myself in the sight and smell of my imaginings… so close to the taste. God, I bet she tasted good. I was willing to bet I would get so fucking hot from tasting her. I knew the act could only get sexier if, after Hope came all over my tongue, I got to share her taste with Lexie. Fuck! I knew I’d come apart instantly.

Two fingers of my right hand were slowly playing in my wetness though I had no idea when that happened. My fantasies were usually pretty vivid, but I couldn’t remember ever losing track of the fact that I was toying with myself.

Fuck.

I bit my lip slightly. It’s a habit that signals the state of my need and my heightened inability to think beyond pleasure; I knew I’d have a small bruise on my lip in the morning.

I took a deep breath. I brought my fingers to a standstill. Slowly my brain started clearing its haze. I wondered if I would be able to get away without making myself cum. It still felt so naughty to have Lexi & Hope staring in fantasies. Did they know that they were currently inhabiting prime time fantasy placement? My clit was prone to making things up. It seemed like I should have some acknowledgement that they knew how they were affecting me before I kept accessing them in that way.

Screw that. They had to know.

Right?

Of its own accord, my mind flashed to thoughts of Hope asking – begging – for more. Fuck, I didn’t even know how her voice sounded. All I had was an image of that beautiful smile that radiated from her eyes in every picture I’d seen on Facebook.

Seriously the idea of looking between Lexie’s stormy eyes and Hope’s enrapturing gaze while I lay between Hope’s thighs slot oyna made me lose my breath. I decided making myself cum to the image wasn’t being naughty. It was Lexie’s fault, after all, for not telling me what she’d been thinking.

This is what happened when left to my own devices.

Yeah.

Totally, Lexie’s fault.

I flipped over on my tummy, leaving my ass a little in the air as the covers slid down to pool at my feet. In this position, the boyshorts, with the word SPOILED in bold black letters, cupped my ass tightly as I slid my hand into the front to tease my aching pussy.

I let my mind wander. I was in this same position; only Hope was spread out before me like a feast. Lexie lay beside her, watching us both as she ran her fingers along the top of Hope’s body. I teasingly inched kisses up creamy thighs as I listened to whispered moans. I felt fingers in my locs, pushing me forward and pulling me away. The two of them were driving me mad. I couldn’t tell which of them was trying to control my approach. But the element of control heightened my need.

Mmm…

Then that moment… hearing my name from them both as my tongue slid between Hope’s excitement slick lips for the first time.

They say it only takes one taste to become addicted.

But this wasn’t an after school special, so I went in for more.

Lapping, teasing, adding Hope to my palette. I wanted to understand it all. One of the biggest connections you can have with someone is understanding their desire, understanding what makes them moan and arch and ramble out profanity laden prayers.

I yearn to understand.

In my mind’s eye, my lips found her clit as my fingers slid inside my wetness. In the coolness of my bedroom, I forced my body downward and rode my fingers the same way I wanted to ride them as I lapped in Hope’s essence. I wanted to drink her in, letting her taste push me closer to orgasm while the sound of her moans, scent, and taste surrounded me – all while Lexie watched. She was there, her body pressed against Hope’s, kissing Hope’s neck, nibbling at her nipples, and definitely watching as I worked to tease Hope into letting go and cumming for me.

I swear, I heard one of them moan my name. I heard the sound echo around my room.

I swear, I could feel the pressure on my chin as Hope arched upward for more and began riding my mouth from below. I just knew I could feel her clit twitching against my tongue.

I swear, a real link had sprung up; I just knew I could hear the co-mingling of their moans as my walls tightened around my fingers before I sunk, exhausted, down into the cocoon of my bed.

I woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and sticky fingers.

Without much thought, I managed to get my brain rolling. Thankfully, I found my shower and morning rituals right where I left them. Normalcy helped the day start off easy and simple. I was about two hours in to researching questionnaires and statistics when I realized I hadn’t looked at my phone since I’d woken up.

I took a break to grab a bottle of water and picked up my phone from the wireless charger. I hadn’t missed any urgent emails. There were a few games flashing notifications that I needed to take my turn. My Facebook feed had a few tags, but nothing major. My twitter feed was off to a political shit show, as usual. I clicked in and then out of my Instagram in order to make the notification disappear. Tumblr, however, made me pause thanks to a nice mix of Tatiana Maslany and Tessa Thompson photos that got my brain revving.

I started thinking canlı casino siteleri about Tatiana and Tessa in all sorts of compromising situations, which led to thoughts of fanfics. Which, of course, led to thoughts of Lexie. Of Hope. The fantasy-memory of the comingling of their voices calling my name.

I took a deep breath and admitted that I’d checked every app except my messenger app. Part of me rationalized that I had real work to do. I wasn’t avoiding my messenger I was a good steward of my time.

That was it, really.

It had nothing to do with wanting to know if they’d discussed my story any more. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fucked up “your” situation. Surely, it absolutely didn’t have anything to do with trying to distract myself from wondering whether I should tell them how very hard I came to the idea of making Hope cum while Lexie watched.

Sure, it wasn’t any of that, I was just being a good, focused, research assistant – yeah.

I shook my head slowly. When did I stop being able to delude myself?

Fuck.

I checked the messenger.

A cat video from my aunt.

A coffee meme from my niece.

A coupon from Lyft.

A unicorn Animoji from my cousin singing “Pony” by Genuine, in response to the alien Animoji I’d sent him the day before singing “The Song That Doesn’t End.”

Okay, not bad at all. I didn’t have a text from Lexie confirming or denying what may or may not have happened after they stopped texting the previous night.

I sat back down at my laptop and continued to work, diligently, for the next few hours.

Ha.

No.

My brain absolutely refused to refocus.

I rocked back in my chair and just stared at the computer. The camera on the laptop was small; you could barely see it was there. I thought back to the Lexie days and fumbling with detachable cameras and finding the correct angles. And microphones, finding a good microphone was fucking harder for me than the camera situation. I had no idea why. Now there were built ins and various platforms to utilize them in all sorts of creative ways.

I wanted to play.

If my hand went inside my pants, I knew my day was shot.

I decided writing as the best way to keep my hands busy. Maybe if I could get the thoughts and images out of my head, I’d be able to get my work done.

My brain called up the images haunting me most at that moment.

The idea of Lexie and Hope turned toward one another, each with one leg bent and one straight. They each lay a little open, exposed, the skin of their thighs, tummies, and breasts begging for kisses. They touch and tease one another as I watch.

I watch, and I ache.

They’re fucking hot.

I need to play.

Eventually, I get permission. I am called closer. I have no idea whether the beckoning comes from Hope’s fingers, slick with Lexie’s wetness, or from Lexie’s stormy eyes cast above lips damp from Hope’s kisses.

Once I am close enough, they each grab a hand and guide me to feel their heat.

Those eyes again, looking up at me as I gently, slowly, slide in…

My phone vibrates on the desk; the sound throws me so far off balance I nearly fall out of my chair.

There’s a message from Lexie. Apparently, they totally spent more time “discussing” my story more after they stopped texting me the night before.

Wow!

I wanted details.

Lexie, always fond of torturing me, was purposefully being a vague tease.

My inner brat took over then. Within seconds I snapped and messaged a screenshot of the story I was writing.

Message from: Lexie

Fuck!

Ha! I felt vindicated. I could be a tease too.

I glanced back at the story on my screen as my hand slowly moved to settle between my thighs…

To be continued… (maybe)

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