Better Not Pout Ch 4

Author's Note:

This story was originally distributed as 7 chapters.

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Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author at mischief1@bigfoot.com.

Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.

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At home that night, for the first time since she'd lost her virginity, Stacy didn't respond to Brad's advances. He took it in stride, chalking it up to first day jitters, and turned in.

Later that evening, she had very vivid, very sexual dreams, dreams in which she sucked and licked other women, dreams about fucking Santa, dreams about all kinds of sexual practices and experiments. She woke up with three fingers jammed in her own pussy and a puddle under her. She looked over at Brad, sleeping soundly, and felt profoundly guilty. She felt like her dreams equated to actions, that somehow she had cheated on Brad.

She pushed back the covers. They both slept naked, had since they moved in together. His breathing was slow and deep – apparently her nocturnal activities hadn't disturbed him.

She moved down until her head was level with his crotch and put his limp cock in her mouth. It was warm from sleep and felt wonderful in her mouth. She sucked on it, feeling it swell and him stir in his sleep under her. When he was hard she climbed on, saw his eyes flutter open as she slowly moved up and down.

"My God Stacy, what's gotten into you?" he asked sleepily.

In response, she reached down and grabbed his hands, placing them on her breasts. With her hands over his she squeezed. He caught on and exerted gentle pressure on them as she rode him.

"Oh God, yeah! Squeeze harder Brad," she begged.

He palmed them, like he was testing fruit. She rose and fell faster.

"Oh shit, yeah that's it. But harder Brad! Pinch my nipples. Pull them!" she pleaded.

Brad was worried about hurting her, but she was so insistent. He trapped her hard nipples between his thumb and middle finger and pressed until she arched her back. Then he pulled slowly, drawing her nipples toward him, and her felt her pussy grab him, viselike. The harder he pinched her nipples, the faster her hips crashed into him, and the harder he pulled on them, the tighter her pussy gripped.

Suddenly he let them go, then grabbed them again and twisted sharply. Stacy moaned deeply, swayed a second, then began shaking, her pussy spasming as she came. Brad let go of her nipples, grabbed her hips and slammed his exploding cock deep into her.

They lay together, panting, his softening cock inside her, and kissed passionately. Eventually they fell asleep, still joined.

The next day at work, she made sure she was dressed "appropriately" and ready for her shift early. She felt better about dressing this way after last night – for some reason the impromptu sex with Brad had made it alright.

She didn't think twice about bending over to adjust her boot until felt something warm and firm slide between her pussy lips. Startled, she tried to stand, but felt a heavy hand settle on her back.

"Stay there," Keith ordered.

"Keith, please! This isn't right - I'm married," her voice took on a frightened, whining quality.

"It's not our fault it's so sweet. Now spread your legs wider like a good little girl."

"Keith, no..." she entreated.

"Do it!' he demanded, his voice hard.

Damn, that was all it took to make her pussy twitch.

"Hold still and just take it," he directed, pressing down harder on her back.

She finally realized he wasn't the one behind her sliding what she now suspected was a finger in and out of her dampening pussy; that task had probably fallen to Teddie; however, there was no doubt that Keith was in control. She placed both hands on the floor to brace herself as the finger twisted and turned. She spread her legs wider, wanting him to get in as far as he could.

"Does that feel good, honey?" Keith asked.

"Oh yes," she whispered.

"Ask him to do it harder. Ask for another finger."

A voice that sounded strangely like hers mumbled, "Please finger fuck me harder. Use more fingers."

Could that really be her? It sounded so desperate, so needy. Teddie paused a minute for effect then worked another finger in. Stacy grunted and fucked the fingers as best she could. She could smell Keith, whose crotch was almost the same level as her head, getting aroused. The smell of sweat and sex radiated off of him in waves. That smell, coupled with the fingering, was enough to make her cum. Her legs wobbled and she dropped to her knees, the fingers popping out noisily.

"Show time," Teddie giggled, stepping over her and walking to the door. The others followed and she was left alone to collect herself.

Once again the shift was shot – Stacy couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few moments. She was more aware than usual of any air on her bare ass, and was mindful not to bend over where anyone might see. She stayed wet almost the entire time - she could still feel the fingers sliding in and out of her, could feel them gently spread and twist inside her. Several times she had to quickly wipe away the moisture that was dripping down her inner thighs, and hoped no one saw. It was as if her orgasm had unlocked something that she couldn't turn off.

At 9pm, when her shift ended and the store closed, she took advantage of the employee privilege of being able to shop after hours for an hour several nights a week. She avoided the break room for fear of what might happen, especially in this state.

By the time she made it back, it was deserted. In the locker room she stripped off her costume and tossed it, crumpled, onto the floor of her locker. It smelled strongly of sex – she'd have to wear another one tomorrow.

It felt good to be naked, the cold floor under her bare feet. She found that having no clothes on in a semi-public place, even a single-sex locker room, was arousing. She felt sticky, her whole body was coated with the sweat from arousal, so she decided it might be a good idea to take a shower. Brad was probably already asleep by now anyway; he'd been going into the office at 7am everyday for the last two weeks.

Walking to the shower room, the cold floor sent spikes up the inside of her legs, making her feel like moaning out loud. She was dismayed to discover that the shower room wasn't empty; Lana, the scantily clad polar bear, was still here. There went her chances to get some relief.

The shower room was gymnasium style, with a tiled floor, walls and ceiling. There were three showers, one on each wall, and the room itself wasn't much bigger than a conventional bathroom, only there were no tubs, sinks or stalls to clutter it up.

Stacy took the shower across from Lana and turned on the faucet, shivering as the water came in contact with her steaming skin. Turning her back to the spray, she couldn't help looking at Lana. Her skin was so dark it looked like ink against the antiseptic white of the tile. She was soaping her hair and face so Stacy didn't think she noticed her glances.

Lana was about the same height as Stacy, but a lot leaner, almost too skinny. Her breasts were the size of baseballs, smooth and round, and her nipples and areolas were so close in color to the rest of her skin that it was impossible to tell from this distance where one ended and the other began.

Stacy watched her soap the rest of her body, working her hands down to the tightly trimmed thatch of dusty brown pubic hair, much too neat and severe to be the natural contour. It barely extended past her labia or above her clit.

The palms of her hands and what Stacy could see of the soles of her feet where tan, almost yellow, a striking contrast to the rest of her skin. As Lana's hands made their way to her privates, separating the lips as she soaped, Stacy noted how deeply pink her inner walls were. She licked her lips without realizing it and turned to face the water so that Lana wouldn't see her staring when she rinsed.

Soaping herself, Stacy's mind wandered. She thought back to the session in Wardrobe, only this time she substituted Lana for Karen. She soaped her tits faster, teasing her nipples hard at she imagined working her tongue between Lana's legs.

"Don't rub too hard, Snowflake - you'll rub them right off."

Stacy whirled around and almost crashed into the other woman. Lena was smiling.

"You know," she began, moving close enough for their engorged nipples to touch, "I never would have figured you for a woman who liked to look at girls."

To Be Continued...