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Dee and I essentially use sex as therapy. Happy? Sex. Angry? Sex. Sad? Sex. It feels way too good not to have it as much as possible. I’ve also never encountered rules stating that you can’t fuck your friend. I know it’s frowned upon, but why wouldn’t I want to have sex with the one person I trust most in the world?
Dee pounces onto the bed as she stares at me like I’m her prey. I don’t think that’s possible, though, since I’m dying to have her right now and you can’t be prey if you’re willing. Right? No hunting required.
She crawls to me on her bony knees and positions herself between my trembling thighs. She raises the dildo and spits on it before slowly inserting it past smoker’s lips layered in cherry-flavored chapstick. Tonguing and sucking on the husky double header, a wet pop escapes her lips.
Dee reaches between her slender thighs, steadily inching one end of the dildo into her dripping pussy. She gasps from the contact and then gets to work on the other end, her mouth being stretched to its max, as she sloppily spits and slurps Suzie Sex Stick like it’s her fucking job. She releases the head from her swollen lips with a pop. All of this happening while I play with my slick pearl, pre-cum sliding down my taint and kissing my asshole before reaching the bed.
All I can think about is Dee being me and the dildo being Attie and how badly I want to slurp his cock into my watering mouth. I bet it’s huge. Guilt creeps in when I realize that I’m thinking about this stranger again and how much he’s affected me already.
“Are you and that plump little pussy ready for me, Lyr?” Dee asks in a husky tone.
Blinking hard to rid myself once more of Attie and his antics, the words tumble out of me in a breathy whisper.
“God, yes.”
Dee takes her time as she places the other end of the double dong against my tight hole and pushes it, slowly, inside my wet silk.
Dee adjusts herself so that she’s in the same position as me, and the two of us kick off our own gratification by rocking back and forth in slow and sensuous strides. I lean forward and reach out for her. Holding my hands against the hollows of her rosy cheeks, I crash her mouth into mine. God, I’ve missed my friend and the way she tastes.
She moans and I reach between our legs, our tongues continuing to strike and slash in each other’s mouths—a duel for pleasure. I find the most perfectly pink, little button between her freshly shaved thighs and gently tap my thumb against it while concurrently rubbing a half circle around her fun, little joystick. She promptly reciprocates the act, and I shudder. My skin curdles with gooseflesh, and I suck in a breath.
It’s like we’re teetering on a seesaw that sits on the edge of pure bliss. I love seeing my bestie this way—panting, sweating, and squirting. She’s so beautiful when she’s like this—so uninhibited and free.
My pussy gushes and sprays as I observe my friend; my orgasm igniting hers and the two of us creating a messy mixture of our cum on my heavily pilled and worn flannel sheets. I love the puddle we create and the way it sprays all over our heaving bodies.
“That was… ” Dee murmurs as she falls back onto the clumped comforter, “Mmm.”
“Right?” I reply lazily.
I glide the jaded—like me—dildo out of my throbbing hole and before it flops onto the bed, I’m thinking about Attie again.
CHAPTER 5
ATTICUS
It isn’t long before I’m rounding the corner and creeping up on that rusty red door that holds my girl hostage. I use my spectral abilities to pass through the door. Standing at the base of the stairs, I spot the familiar and discolored, shabby, door at the top. I’m Prince Charming and my Rapunzel needs to let down her long hair. I’m coming, princess.
I ascend the steps two at a time. When I reach the door, I press my ear to the warm metal and hear women giggling. Meeting her once was enough to recognize that laugh anywhere, and I want to hear it forever. Strawberry girl.
I’m assuming the horrific chortle that’s accompanying her sweet melody is from Cruella. I wonder who she is to Lyric. What did she say? Shit. Did I even ask? Probably not. My focus shifts back to the real world when they start talking about a man.
“Okay, so what do you know about him?”
So it is Cruella.
“My knowledge of him is limited to him being tatted, tall, and handsome. He enjoys reading books and can lift me as if I weighed nothing.” Lyr trails off.
“Oh! And his name is Atticus, but I can call him Attie, and now he knows where I live.” She replies begrudgingly.
“Wait, he did what?” The shock in Dee’s tone is loud.
“What?” I can hear the confusion in Lyric’s voice.
“Lift you. Duh,” Dee lets out an exasperated sigh as if having this conversation is draining the life out of her. Lyr ignores the dig at her.
“Who would’ve thought a trip to the library would end with me being whisked away by a freaking giant? Shit, I didn’t even have to climb a beanstalk… unless he’s the beanstalk. Which, in that case, call me Jack, bitch.”
Dee cackles noisily and triggers the rats as I catch fat, furry friends skittering across my work boots. Now if I still had a meat suit, I’d be screeching like the five-year-old little girl at my sister’s Wednesday-themed birthday party when I let her light candles in my mouth and pretend we’d blown my head clean off my shoulders. I’m convinced the karma in my life dressed up as shared trauma after that.
