Page 53 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

My name was a harsh groan from behind me as Poppa’s hands found their way back to my ass, once again kneading my cheeks for a brief moment before she reached around me to peel the cups of my bikini to the side and bare my breasts. My already hardened nipples tightened even further at the rush of cool air, but Poppa immediately covered them when she scooped them into her hands and played with the turgid points.

There was an unexpected vibration at the base of the strap that seemed less for me and more for Poppa’s pleasure, and the knowledge that we were both being stimulated was heady. It fueled me as I began to bounce in her lap, slapping down hard, trying to put as much pressure on that little buzzer against her clit as possible. I wanted her to cum just as much as I wanted to cum.

I felt reckless and wanton, dangerous and so deliciously sexy. This moment with Poppa was the only thing I could process. Her hands on me, playing with my ultra-sensitive nipples, her strap filling me up, her hips snapping up to meet me with each descent, her titties pressed into my back, her goddamned lips on my neck. I was floating.

And when she grunted as if she’d just taken a blow to the gut, legs straightening in front of her, toes pointed out like she didn’t know which way to go, I knew she was cumming. She bit down on my neck and pinched my nipples so hard you would’ve thought she was trying to snap them off and put them in her pocket for a midnight snack later, and the sting—the sheer-fucking-pain was exactly what I needed to send me flying right behind her. I might’ve cried her name as I crested. Not too loudly though, just a little bit.

As I came down, I slumped backward, head on her shoulder, chest heaving as if I’d just ran a four-by-four. She released my nipples and began to massage them, instantly soothing the harsh treatment she’d just inflicted upon them. Her lips were back on my neck, licking and kissing the likely bruised areas, and I sat there in silence, welcoming her touch, basking in her aftercare.

This was what I’d missed the first time around, when we’d been exhausted after a long night of partying and subsequent fucking, and the eventual orgasm was equivalent to a healthy dose of NyQuil. This was what I’d been looking for the morning after.

And just like that, my bubble burst. The reminder of how things ended just a few days ago pulled me up short.

What the actual fuck was I doing?

Finally thinking clearly, I started to pull out of her grasp. I needed off her lap and out of that room. My head was clouded and in need of fresh air and space. Planting my feet, I braced to stand, only to be stopped by her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me back into place. Back against her.

“Where you going?” Her voice was heavy with lust and I felt my pussy contract around the strap.

“Poppa,” I groaned. Or maybe I moaned. I don’t really know.

“Mmhm,” she murmured. Wrapping a hand around my neck, she turned my head to the side and captured my lips in a nasty kiss. She licked into my mouth like she was trying to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop, and I definitely, without a doubt moaned that time. “I want you to say my name just like that.”

Before I had a chance to ask her what she meant, she’d dropped her arm from my waist and slipped her hand into the waistband of my thong. My lips parted, because I really needed to know what she was doing, but then she sucked my tongue into her mouth and slowly pumped her hips as she did very indecent things to my clit. Instinctively, my thighs tried to close, but then she stopped everything. Stopped kissing me, stopping playing in my panties, stopped fucking into me. Even my breaths stopped, halting right where they were in my lungs.

“Keep these fucking legs open for me, Jucee. I want you cumming for me one more time. Do you understand?”

You’d have thought a draft blew into the room the way I shuddered from head to toe. What was happening? What—how—who—why was she doing this to me? I had no answers, but what I did know was that I nodded and opened my legs like she told me to. And she immediately resumed her ministrations.

The combination of sensations was pure torture. Years of piano and guitar playing gave Poppa a particular skillset that I hadn’t really appreciated until she was playing out a rhythm between my thighs that had my breath coming in stuttered pants and gasps. Her shallow thrusts were seemingly harmless, but every movement against my already sensitive walls was so overwhelming that I could have cried. I might have, actually. Just a couple of tears though. Nothing too dramatic.

The worst—or best, depending on how you looked at it—of it was the way she kissed me. She was worshipping my mouth as if it was the only way that she could ingest oxygen and kissing me was literally integral to her next breath. It made me dizzy and weak and floatfloatfloat away from my body with pure, unfettered love.

It made me delusional.

Cumming made it worse.

I jerked and seized and trembled in her arms, and she held me the entire time. As I caught my bearings, she kissed my cheek, the side of my nose, my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, and only then did she release my neck. Switching arms, she continued holding me against her while she pulled her hand out of my thong and brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking each digit clean.

When I tried to stand at that time, she helped me, supporting me from below as well as holding onto one of my hands to offer leverage. My legs were a little unsteady on my heels, but with her help, I eased up gingerly, groaning when the strap slipped free of me. Walking toward the door, I put a little distance between me and the couch and began to right myself.

I straightened my thong, rolling my eyes at how wet and ruined it now was, and then tucked my titties back into my bikini. “Dance for You” shuffled on, filling the room with sensual lyrics that felt a little too on the nose for my liking. Deep in my thoughts, I damn near jumped outta my skin when Poppa wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. It felt so familiar—so normal—that it made my stomach ache.

But also...was she hugging me as a friend or a lover?

I couldn’t tell the difference and that was the problem. My head was a jumble of questions, and her confusing back-and-forth behavior didn’t help. While I was in my head, Poppa circled me, settling her hands at the small of my back as she leaned in and captured my lips in a sweet kiss full of promise.

The desire to trust that promise was so strong that I found myself swaying on my feet and leaning into her. We both laughed as she helped to steady me, an undeniable smugness written all over her face.

“You know,” I began, after eagerly kissing her back despite the whisper of caution flitting around at the back of my mind, “I really am supposed to be working.”

Poppa smacked her lips. “Man, you worked! And we didn’t even use the whole time that I paid for, so you don’t have to rush.”

She kind of had a point, but there was no way I could spend the whole time in that room with her, cuddling and kissing. I was already going to be in so much fucking trouble when Mal found out, and she absolutely would. Nothing happened in Sanity that she didn’t know about. Nothing.

“You’re right,” I conceded. “I don’t have to rush. But I do have to go get cleaned up before heading back out onto the floor.” I gave her a knowing look.

Grinning, she dipped her chin twice and dropped another kiss on my lips before stepping back. “Okay, okay. You have a point.” She eyed me for a second. “So...can we still do movie night?”