Something To Talk About 2

[Author's note: Another human story. Tender and sweet. Wayyyy raunchier than my last offering here. Please enjoy!]

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I should probably explain. How on earth could a girl so game for open relationships and platonic sex with multiple partners be insecure about her fiancé's old crush? I admit, the feeling caught me off guard too. Given my long history of platonic friendship with Max, and my thorough knowledge of his romantic past, I really shouldn't consider it a touchy subject, and mostly I don't. From the first time we hooked up, I loved that he and I could so freely share the company of others and be open about the extramarital connections we'd made. Truly, I think it's the greatest way to love someone. But Daisy was a tough pill to swallow.

I think we both thought our great ice-breaking threeway with Rachel at my old boss's house would make for an easy transition into dating each other. But with all the spontaneity stripped away, and Rachel's guiding hand absent, it was anxious on our own. Max invited me over. I was newly out of a job, and without getting too ahead of myself, I never moved out after that. But that first night, I was a nervous wreck.

We planned to hang out and see how it felt. I showed up dressed unassumingly, jeans and a hoodie. Even my underwear was simple; a Lulu thong and sports bra. I guess this had become a litmus test for me. Rachel taught me not to worry so much about dressing for sex. She loved my white Calvin's, for instance, and I needed to know if Max still wanted to fuck me without the context of tiny bikinis and steamy showers. Afterall, we were setting out to become something serious, something sacred, but at the same time, it seemed realistic that we could continue exploring the physical frontier on which we'd begun.

Max answered the door, also dressed casually. He kissed me on the cheek and I entered into the beautiful aroma of a gourmet dinner in the making. He had never cooked for me, in fact it was a surprise to learn that he could cook so well. He made chicken cutlets and a peach and bread salad with chocolate lava cake for dessert. It was a beautiful meal and knowing Max cooked it only made him all the more attractive to me. Each time he leant to refill my wine I felt myself get wetter.

It was comforting too because there was no way Max was going to all this trouble because he wanted us to go back to just being friends. No, this was foreplay in a sense, and we needed it because the rules at this fragile juncture were so unclear.

After dinner, I suggested we go to the living room. We sat close together on his couch, and locked eyes. We both knew this was the moment for action, and maybe it's even kind of sweet that we each moved on each other in exactly the same way at exactly the same time. But it didn't feel cute when our noses crashed together enough to make us both recoil and grab our faces in pain. It wasn't awful, just awkward, and for the sake of the moment we had to laugh it off. In a second attempt, I pointed my knees closer inward and turned my head. The point was to expose my neck and welcome him to kiss me there. What I didn't think to do was adjust my hair, and when Max went in for what he thought was a lip lock, he got a mouth full of my hair, which was freshly sprayed (okay, so I gussied up a bit).

We laughed again, but it sounded more forced this time.

"We were smoother the other night," I said gently.

"Yeah, I can't explain it," said Max. "This is the real me though. Clumsy is much more my usual vibe."

"Mine too," I said.

"Okay, well there's no pressure."

"Oh! Okay. Yeah. No pressure." I must have sounded gutted because he quickly amended his statement.

"No, no! I mean, I still want to do this. If you do, that is. I just mean we can take it easy."

"I definitely still want to do this." I was sure to sound as serious as possible.

"Great. So maybe we..."

"I could give you a blowjob!"

Max looked stunned. "Sure! But won't that feel..."

"You don't want a blowjob?"

"Of course I want a blowjob. You can absolutely give me a blowjob if you want. But then you're down there and I'm up here. How will that help get us past the awkwardness?"

"Okay, fair point. What do you suggest?"

"I think we do the opposite."

"... Pray?"

"No. The opposite of distant, unilateral pleasure."

Max was so smart. So methodical. Still, I played coy. "What's that?"

"Raw, shameless, unabashed sexiness."

"I think we did that already, and still there's these... growing pains."

"We'll start easy. How about dirty talk?"

"I'm terrible at dirty talk. Are you not?"

"I would have thought so, but Rachel changed everything."

Boy, was that the truth.

"Okay," I said, cautiously. "You start."

"You start," Max argued. "You're the sexiest person alive. Use it. Be shameless."

"Max, don't make me."

"The sooner you talk a little dirty the sooner we can fuck like heroes."

Another effective argument. "But what do I say?"

"Tell me about the best sex of your life."

"That won't make you jealous?"

"I'm pretty sure it'll be hot as fuck. Don't you want to hear about the best sex of my life?"

This made me nervous. I'm not possessive by nature, but I was disinclined to discover there and then that some old tale about wonderful Daisy could make me insecure.

"Besides the other night, I mean." He winked when he said this, and I'm sure I blushed.

"Okay, yes," I began. "Likewise, the other night was the best I've ever had. Previous to that... you're not going to believe it."

"I'm hard already. Go on."

I told Max the story of our all-girl blindfolded orgy at camp, the night Rachel and I hooked up for the first time, and how we didn't even know who each other was until recently when we reconnected. And of course I tried my best to make it sound as hot as possible, but the truth was, I hadn't seen anything that night. It just felt amazing. And I knew, even while telling the story, that it was coming across a lot more like a quaint coming of age tale than porn in real life. Max was sweet though, and he made a show of expressing how turned on the image made him.

Then it was his turn. So far I was equally horny, but no less anxious.

"Mine was with this girl, Daisy, who was my friend at the time." He added, "Kind of my you before we knew each other."

This in and of itself didn't unsettle me, but as I dwelled on the comparison, I couldn't help becoming suspicious of how casually he spoke of it all now. If this girl had been so special to him once, hadn't their eventual tryst ultimately led to their demise? He told me about how she asked to share his bed on a weekend getaway before graduation, and how they fucked all night. It sounded beautiful, but for someone who talked a big game about dirty talk, it wasn't really like that in the telling.

"Do you think about her often?" I asked, trying not to sound too bothered.

Max shook his head. "Not really. It's not even that the sex was so mind-blowing. It was just really important for my development of confidence."

I could understand that. Rachel had done the same for me. In fact, Rachel would kill me if she knew what a wuss I was being now. I decided to listen to her, the voice in my head. Sack up, Jane. I was going to right this ship.

"Enough about other people," I said.

"You're right," agreed Max.

"I want to talk about us. Specifically you fucking me, and me fucking you."

"There you go. Yes."

"I want to give you that blowjob. I want to suck your cock into the back of my throat and slurp it dry."

"Fuck, yeah. What else?"

"I want to run my lips over your rock hard shaft and feel every curve glide along my tongue, until your tip crashes into my tonsils. i want to make it warm and wet in my mouth for you. Exactly as lush and comfortable as you'll need to know you are welcome-- no, encouraged-- to unleash a gagging faucet of your delcious cum into my stomach."

"Holy... fuck," he said dryly. And holy fuck was right. Where had that come from?

I went on:

"I want you to strip me naked and I don't want you to be gentle. I want you to taste how wet my pussy is for you and I want to ride your face until you make me cum with that tongue I already know you can work like an artist."

"I want it too," panted Max.

"And as soon as I'm finished cumming, I want you to put your cock in me and fuck me stupid. Make me scream, and believe me, you haven't heard me scream yet."

"I'll get it out of you."

"And I want you to fill my pussy with your cum. Don't waste a drop. Make me overflow. And when you're done, I'll suck you again until you've got a fresh batch, and I want all of it in my tight ass."

Max lit up like the sun. "Your ass, oh, hell yes."

"Say it. Say you want to fuck my ass."

"I want to fuck you in your perfect little ass," he panted.

"Whenever you want," I told him. "Fuck my slutty ass, baby. Make me so happy."

I honestly didn't begin the night planning to put that particle activity on the table, but now I was excited about it. It was abundantly clear that this dirty talk thing only required a little momentum, and it just poured out. My deepest desires were screaming out before I could even know them myself. And in terms of anal prep, thankfully, I was meticulously manicured, head to toe, inside and out.

Max stared back agape. He had to properly catch his breath after my full demands were made known. At that point, he tried to kiss me again, but this time I successfully averted his advance, clearing my hair out of the way and landing his lips against my neck.

"Playful," he sneered.

"Not until you tell me what you want."

"I want whatever you want," he whispered.

"I want specifics."

"I... I'll strip you naked if you like, but I'd rather watch you do it yourself."

"Okay," I mused. "Interesting!"

"I want you to go slow. I want you to tease me. Face away and show me your bare back. Then bend low when you pull your pants down. Show me your gorgeous underside as you remove the last of it."

"Fuck, yes, Max. I want to strip for you."

I did too. To hell with my idea.

"Then I want you to get on your knees..."

"See? It's easy once you get going."

"... and undo my pants and pull out my cock, and suck it like it's the last cock in the world. Make it wet. Drool and spit on it."

"Anything you want," I beamed.

"Then I want you to stand up and face that mirror." There was a floor-length mirror on the far wall. "And brace yourself against it so I can still see you front-on when I come to you from behind. I want to fuck you while we stand, and I want to feel your ass against my cock.

"Yes, baby," I hissed.

He kissed me hard then, his lips springing forward too quickly to be stifled. We macked heavily and long, breathing in each other's scents, colliding our mouths and tongues and only parting for panicked gasps of oxygen. Max took the back of my head into his right hand, combing his fingers into my hair and clasping firmly at my crown. Our heat intensified, and I reached to paw at the throbbing bulge at his lap.

"No, no," he whispered, pulling away just enough.

I withdrew, held his stare, and stood. I towered over him, my long legs cricked to pop my hip out, and my mane of wavy brown hair flooding down over my perky tits. We remaimed fully clothed, but not for long. I stepped back, giving myself the empty space of his den for a stage. Finally breaking his gaze, I reverse and peeled off my shirt. The bra was quick to follow - can only tease so far with a garment worn in public gyms. Now, with my bare back facing Max, I tucked each of my thumbs into either side of my waistband, and slowly slowly slowly bent forward, bringing my bottoms down and pointing my plump, thonged ass toward the couch where he sat. At the extent of my lean, I felt the delicate spandex between my legs shift just so, and I was pretty sure the side lip of my pussy peaked out. Either way, he could see the sizable dark spot where I was gushing for him.

As I rose again, I casually turned to face Max. he had his fly open, and was reaching in to stroke his cock. "I thought that was my job," I pouted.

"It is," he said. "Come here."

I stepped forward and crouched to a kneel. Placing a hand on either side of his waist, I tugged, and he adjusted to make the motion easier. I yanked off Max's pants and underwear in a single pull, then I returned to his lap and took in the view of his massive cock. He was totally smooth and presentation-ready, complete with a dewy tack of anticipatory sweat. His rod sprung forward and up, his balls were firm and accesorized his gorgeous package perfectly.

I looked up at him and licked my lips. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to suck my hard cock," he panted.

"Tell me to," I insisted.

"Suck my cock, Jane. Please suck on it."

Oh, fuck, how I loved hearing him say my name. But I had another tone in mind. "No, silly," I said gently. "Don't beg me. Demand it."

Max emitted a hesitant guffaw, but at that moment I wrapped my hand around his dick and tugged it downward just once. His entire body thrust forward and, as if the action was a power switch, his charge took hold. "Put that pretty mouth on my cock," he urged. "Do it. Suck me until I cum down your throat."

"Call me slut."

"Suck on my cock," he scolded. "Be my slutty little beauty."

Wasting not another second, I plunged his throbbing member into my hungry mouth, sliding instantly into a deepthroat, carving my tongue along his veins all the way. When my lips hit the base, connecting with his pelvis and fricting his taut balls, I made the slightest gakking noise, but was quick to commence an oral pump so he wouldn't assume a line was crossed. I nestled my thighs against the floor, allowing myself to sink lower, and began incorporating my hand in an operative thrust every time I receded with my mouth. When Max's initial sighs became hushed moans, I couldn't resist patting my free hand down toward my pussy. I reached under my soaking panties and began fingering myself.

Gak gak gak. I lifted off his rod, and fluffed him gingerly while I asked him, "Do you like seeing me worship your cock?"

"I worship you too," was what he said. The boy found it hard not to be romantic. Not that I should complain; I was so in love with him.

"Put your hand on my head," I instructed. "Push me low onto you." I slurped back onto his tip and felt his gentle hand slowly lower me back down his pole. When he lifted it, I reached to return it myself, and he rested it there while I continued working up and down."

"You're going to make me cum," he hissed.

"Good," I said amid a breath. "Cum for me, baby."

"No," he said. "Too early."

"We have all night," I pleaded. "We have forever."

Max's voice grew quite severe. "I never said I was done. Get up."

I looked up, a bit quizzically.

"Stand up, Jane."

I gradually drew upward, intent to hold a slinky stance at my highest. What I didn't anticipate was Max's determined grab of my waist. From his seated position, he shredded off my Lulus and left me standing before him totally nude. My shaved pussy dripped and ached for him as he leant forward, tucked his face between my legs and ran his tongue up my opening, landing at my clit. I wobbled in surprise, and by the time I'd caught myself, Max had moved again. He rose from the couch, spun me at the hips and nudged me forward so I'd crash my bum into the cushions. Then he took my place, kneeling to the floor and returning his face to my lap.

"Holy fuck, Max," I shouted as he ate my pussy like a master. With each dextrous tonguing, I lurched a little further back until eventually I was pinned on my tailbone, pointing my entire underside at his handsome face. "Put a finger in," I begged." He rubbed his index and middle fingers against my moist slit, and made eye contact with me, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if this is what I meant. It wasn't what I meant and I know he knew it. "The other one," I whispered. Max smiled and lowered his fingers to my puckered ass. Plenty lubed from my pussy juices, they probed politely and then slid in like a socket. He returned his mouth to my cunt and fingered my asshole slowly while eating me out. "Ahhhhh," I wailed. "Fuckkkkkk, Max. Fuck me with every part of you." Then. "Oh! Oh-oh-oh-ohhhh! Holy shit! I'm cumming! Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, FUCK yes!"

I released against his face, seizing tight and then going limp, screaming both verbally and vaginally for a heaven's eternity. At the finish of my climax, I reduced to a pout, and Max continue to prod both my holes. The slushy-wet sounds of my sopping bottom rang through the room, and he slowed. "You're perfect," he whispered during a gasp.

Catching my breath, I affirmed, "We're not there yet. I'm still your cum slut. Fuck my pussy. Stuff me with that cock right now."

Max receded and doffed the last of his clothing. Technically, I remained marginally garmented if only for the honeyed panties still tangled around my right ankle like a flaccid halo. I didn't even realize until I lifted that leg while repositioning horizontally on the couch. My Max stood over me and grinned as he neared again, taking my hoisted foot into his hand and cradling it all the while kneeling on the seat cushion and pointing his fleshy arrow in my direction. He kissed my foot and slowly peeled the underwear off before tossing them aside and taking hold of his dick. Bending overtop, he kissed me on the lips and whispered in the most tender voice, "We were never just friends. You've always been the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

I urged forward to kiss him again, but more ferociously this time. That was my way of concurring. Max and I had lied to each other in every interaction over four years of best friendship. The something more was undeniable, although I tried for the longest time. Then, on an unassuming weekday afternoon while I shopped for groceries, a familiar song came on the store speakers. Something to Talk About. I'd heard it a million times, like anyone, but I'd perhaps never truly listened to it. All at once, I heard this abandoned cheer, an anthem of submission to the obvious heat that consumes you. I'd also never noticed how damn sexy that song is, and who knows how long I'd have stayed in denial if I'd remembered my airpods that day. But instead, I knew with certainty that Max was my number one. Anyone else could be a cherry for both of us. I could hear the song in my head as he positioned his tip against my pussy, and firmly pressed it inward.

Widening my knees, I propped my opening up for easy access, and felt Max's hot cock travel up my insides, caressing the full 360 of my canal and plunging as deep as his impressive length allowed. I sighed long and low, and Max moaned in pleasure as we began to rock back and forth. In and out went his cock, my spa-like cunt hugging it to the point of clinging on at every back thrust. Eventually we worked into a steadier rhythm, fucking in the truest sense now, and with each forward motion of Max's hips, my perky tits bobbled and begged to be licked. He never broke pace as he dipped his kiss low and slathered me all over.

"Fuck. You feel so good," he said.

"Oooh," I cried and panted. "You like fucking my pussy?"

"I love your pussy."

"Fill it up, Max," I beseeched. "I want to feel your cum pump up into me and then pour out. Come on, baby. Cum for me. Give me all your cum."

This made him fuck me harder and faster. His thrusts were, all of them, all-consuming, and the look on his face was growing hazy with the swirling need of release.

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" I yelped. "Come on, baby. Fuck me so good with your huge dick. Fuck me silly! Make me drunk with your cum!" It's worth remembering, I think, that dirty talk was Max's suggestion, not mine. It was amusing to think the evening began somewhat awkward, that a kiss could be clumsy. Here and now, as we fucked each other's brains out, nothing could have felt more natural. The nakedness of Max and I together; it was right, it was exceptional, it was a dream come true.