Lay Not Over

Alexandra had never been this angry about being turned on.

She kept thinking of Kate and Brock, and even her tamest conception of their lovemaking was arousing, which was even more insult than it was injury. Brock belonged with her. She'd seen him first, flirted with him first, done all the legwork of getting to know him and figuring out he wasn't a creep and picturing their white wedding.

Only for Kate, her friend, to swoop in on the suitable man she'd found for herself and thrown her skanky ass at him, only knowing he was a quality find because Alexandra was interested in him. It was infuriating. What was she, Kate's matchmaker?

She'd thought they were friends… even if Kate were a huge slut. She could have any man she wanted. Alexandra needed to really know a guy, like him, befriend him, and see he had a big cock. She barely ever found a man worth falling for, and now that she had one… maybe the one… Kate just had to waltz in and press herself up against him, rub her tits all over him, choking herself on his big dick… God, why did it have to be so hot when she pictured it?

She imagined him using both a dildo and his own cock, fucking Kate’s cunt and her ass at the same time—her wet pussy wrapped around the base of his prick until they were both locked up in orgasm. Of Brock spanking, then vindictively pounding Kate’s ass until she was struck by a thunderbolt climax.

Usually when she was in a high heat like this—her body a taut nerve of need, swollen breasts needing a massage and stiff nipples just begging to be tweaked—Alexandra would masturbate, but she refused to concede more to Kate. Even if all it would take was a finger brushing her quivering clit a few times.

The sex probably wasn't any good at all. They had no chemistry and Kate just laid there and Brock’s thing had to have a curve in it. 

There was a knock at the door. She jumped up immediately. As much as Alexandra wanted to be alone, she welcomed any distraction from…

“Kate?”

She looked like she'd been through a war, or at least an all-night poker session. Kate's eyes were unfocused, her makeup smeared, her lips moving wordlessly every few seconds. Her body shuddered constantly, as if wracked with sensations that had overstayed whatever contact had first caused them. Her breasts heaved, nearly escaping a hemline that had fallen with one broken shoulder strap. Her stockings were ripped and Alexandra could see the pink of her panties where they'd been lowered and not fully raised, peeking under her skirt.

“Kate? Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

“Brock,” she muttered. “Oh God… so much… I didn't know… I never imagined…“

“He didn't… hurt you… did he?” Alexandra asked, unable to believe that Brock would do something so heinous—or that Kate wouldn’t let him.

Kate shook her head before she seemed to lose even that much control over her body. She quaked, her eyes shutting in ecstasy as her head drifted back.

“No… no… oh, it hurt, it hurt so much, but I asked for it… he made me beg for it…”

“He, uh, dominated you?” Alexandra couldn't help being curious. How many things would've had to change over the past day for it to be her standing there instead of Kate, half-naked and fucked to the point that she looked like she didn’t know her own name?

“He devoured me… taking everything I could feel, everything I could say yes to… things even I didn't know I wanted… you don't know, Alexandra, you just don't know all the things that can happen to a woman's body…”

“Let's sit down. I'll get you some water… maybe a towel.”

Anyone would be curious, Alexandra thought. Kate didn't seem unhappy, more… almost accomplished. Like she had run a marathon. She was tired and hazy and more than a little contented, but Alexandra buried that under the need to care for her. Whatever she'd been through, Kate clearly needed to come down from it. Unless this was her after the high had fully passed…

Alexandra got Kate her water and a damp towel to mop up her sweat, thought Kate needed Alexandra to do that for her. Alexandra helped her take off her pumps too. Kate's toes were still curling and splaying out as she went through her little convulsions.

“What happened to you anyway?” It just slipped out.

Kate smiled dreamily, her eyes glazing over even more than they had been. “Oh… you know… he took me out to dinner. I bet you can imagine what he was like. Listening to me and paying attention to me… it's such a turn on, isn't it? Does your clit throb when he's looking into your eyes like he's hanging on your every word…?”

Alexandra wouldn't think about that. “So you had dinner. And?”

“And he got the check. Suddenly it was like he was just in charge, you know? He took me by the arm… not rough or anything… but there was just no chance I wasn't going with him. It wasn't even a possibility, right?”

Alexandra could picture it. The firmness she'd wanted from Brock… the bone-deep need for her she'd tried to elicit from him… the thought of it made her clit do something, even if Alexandra told herself it wasn't throbbing.

“What happened next?” she asked, hatefully recognizing the anticipation dewing her mons. It wasn’t just mental anymore—it was like her body believed she could get a taste of what Kate had so sweetly experienced if she only listened hard enough.

“We went to his car. He drove us back to the hotel… you know how cute he is, but have you ever seen him at the wheel? Staring straight ahead with full concentration, the streetlights passing over him… sometimes all I could see were his glinting eyes… I wanted to ask Brock what he was going to do with me, but I couldn't stop looking at him. I didn't want him to stop being so… I wanted him to be in charge of me like he was in control of the car.”

“He took you to his hotel room,” Alexandra prompted. She nodded her head to the neighboring room, where Kate was staying. “I would've heard if you were in there.”

“Oh yes… you would…” Kate said distantly. “He played with me, you know? Like a cat would. When I opened the door, he shoved me in and all I could do was giggle. So he shoved me again… and I giggled again… when he kissed me, it was like he shoved me again. And I liked it again.”

“I would like it too,” Alexandra admitted, not just to comfort Kate. The confession let more delicious electricity flow through her awakening nerves.

“He didn't even rip my clothes… anything like that… he barely laid a finger on me. But he touched me like he could do whatever he wanted to. Like you'd pick up your cat, just because you could. And I wanted him to grope me. If he did, I might have hated it, but because he didn't, I knew I could be feeling things that I wasn't.”

“So did you tell him to touch you?” Alexandra asked breathlessly.

“He didn't let me. He actually put his finger on my lips to keep me from talking, like he already knew what I wanted. And he did! He did, Alex! I was trembling with how much I wanted it. Wishing like hell he’d give it to me already.”

But he just smiled at me. He wasn’t quite leering—it was more like a child, eager to play with a new toy—and a little like we were sharing a smile, like there was some big secret we were both in on.

‘I’ve really enjoyed everything you’ve had to show me,’ he said. ‘You have my permission to display everything you’ve held back.’

I’d never heard a man talk to me like that before. But you’ve seen what I’ve been wearing this weekend. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve liked having him look at what you’re showing off. So letting him see all of it just seemed like good foreplay. And I smiled for him… really selling it… as I pulled up my skirt. Slowly twisting at the hip to show off one leg and then the other… not both at once.

‘I didn’t tell you to move,’ he whispered, real calm, but nasty too. It turned me on, but in a funny sort of way. I was a little scared. I worried that I’d make him mad at me again and I worried how much I cared about keeping him happy… I mean, what did I care, right? So long as I got off, that was what mattered. But now what mattered was that he looked at me. And I had to make him like what he saw so he would do more than look…