Page 6
“I’m sorry, Lyr. I didn’t mean to interrogate you or assume you knew something about him when you really didn’t.”
She says, grumbling while pouting her bottom lip and furrowing her fluffy brows at me.
“Shut up and come here,” I say quietly but firmly.
Dee hurries over to where I’m sitting. When she reaches me, she looks down, making direct eye contact with me, while she slowly and deliberately straddles my right leg. She knows what she’s doing and it won’t work… not this time.
Dee wraps her arms around my neck and runs her fingers through my hair before gripping a handful and piercing her teeth into the supple skin in the crook of my neck. I hiss at the contact. Her mouth is soft, warm, and trailing wet kisses that reach my collarbone.
“Yellow.” I blurt.
She slowly pulls away and surveys me, confusion in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks hesitantly.
Dee and I are just friends—friends who feel, fuck, and fix the other. Gender doesn’t matter; it never did. Even after the handful of years that she was missing, it was like nothing had changed. And because nothing changed, neither did our platonic love for each other nor the powerful urge to fulfill each other’s needs.
Dee doesn’t just use sex to show her unconditional love for me; she uses it to manipulate me. I want her, but I have to draw a line somewhere. Right?
I sigh, “Dee, we need to talk.”
She pouts again as she adjusts herself on my lap, playing with the ends of her hair.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I say, lacking confidence.
Dee searches my eyes. She looks panicked and confused.
“I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“This is how we cope. Don’t you see that? It’s unhealthy. It’s—” she presses a finger to my mouth and my eyes grow wide.
I decide that I can’t bear to have this conversation right now. She can make my irritability go away, and I’m ready to let her. I’d rather succumb than fight against something I want and she needs.
“Fuck it.” I mutter.
Pulling her close to me, I reach around and grab her hair, pushing her into my chest. She begins kissing, sucking, and nibbling and I throw my head back in satisfaction. She needs me just as much as I need her.
What Dee is doing to me right now is meeting my needs and my body's desires without question, without fail, she always does. No one knows my body better than my best friend. I watch as she slips my hoodie off my shoulders and arms and attempts to delicately lift my favorite band tee up and over my head. The collar catches on my double-hooped nose ring, and I wince. Dee tosses my baggy shirt on the old and beige-but-browning carpeted floor. She leans into me, her breasts pressing into my chest and shoulder, the smell of her perfume—patchouli and cedarwood—fills my nostrils as she presses a tender kiss to the side of my nose.
“Dee…” I gasp.
She unclasps my bra and pushes me back onto the bed. She scoots forward until her unjustifiably clothed pussy sears against my own heat. I arch my back as I lean my head back. Eyes closed, I feel Dee abruptly suck my erect nipple into her mouth, and I’m unable to resist letting out a whimper. Her right hand glides down my stomach and swiftly unbuttons my skinny jeans in one expert swoop of her fingers. I moan involuntarily, and she looks up at me, framed by thick lashes, the white blonde of her hair framing the prominent edges of her face, and her crooked teeth smirking at me. My hypothesis is that she’s contemplating her next move. She oozes unholy thoughts.
Dee dismounts me and enthusiastically removes my bottoms, revealing my panties, or almost lack thereof—the string between my ass cheeks and the tiny triangle barely covering my pouchy pussy can’t possibly count. When she notices the intricate black lace and leopard-pattern cotton between my thighs, she dives headfirst into my pulsing cunt.
Dee has never been shy in the sheets—not with her rockin’ body and surely not with her bedroom skills. She yanks on my thong like she’s drawing an arrow, except the target is my wet slit and glistening bud. My little Dee Devil releases her frantic tongue between my legs, and I immediately panic as I envision Attie’s large, muscular body between my thick thighs.
I squirm beneath her, trying to push the thought of him down, when she quickly jumps off me and scampers away. I sit up, confused, and combing the room. What is happening? Where did Dee go, and why is this intolerable man taking up space in my head? I see a blur in the corner of my margin when Dee comes skipping back in with a large-to-me, double-sided dildo flapping at her side. It’s girthy and about eighteen inches long—the size of your average newborn baby. How ironic.
“Remember Suzie Sex Stick?!” she squeals, holding the floppy silicone out in front of her and wagging it around.
Once I realize what I’m looking at, my eyes drift to bare skin. The heat between my legs grows, and I can feel something wet and slick trickling down my inner thigh.
B-cup tits sit pretty on Dee’s light brown skin. I’ve always been envious of them. They’re so full and perky and perfect for latching. I admire her beautifully trimmed, triangle-shaped bush as she models her body for me; an arrow pointing me to the path to rapture.
“Haha! Of course, I remember. Now bring that ass over here so we can use her like the little slut she is.”
Giggling, I crawl onto the bed. I present myself to my best friend, leaning back on my elbows with my legs spread eagle. I love when we fuck. Dee is basically a pro at it from all the collaborations she does with people on social media, and I get to sit back and reap the benefits of her pretty and professional pussy.
