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“Say what you want, Daria,” he said, unable to help it. “Ask what you want.”
“How does it feel?”
“Good. Very good. Like being doused in a bolt of pleasure every time I stroke myself.” He stroked harder and groaned to prove his point. He imagined her fist there replacing his, and now it felt like every stroke couldn’t reach the end as his erection bordered on painful.
“What are you thinking about?”
“A lot of things. Tits, ass, a voice. Fucking someone while I do this.”
She swallowed once more, her voice a whisper at her next question. But it was also swimming with anticipation.
“How would that fuck be?”
Dangerous territory,his mind warned, but the stop lever had long ago been broken.
“Slow at first. She would be in the shower with me, soaping me up, then abandoning the soap when she reaches her goal. She would stroke me until we are both groaning and kissing me as if her life depended on it. Then she would…”
“She would what?”
“Spread her legs. Let me carry her to the wall and beg until I slide my cock inside her. She would take what I give her and ride me while I fucked her there and made her feel as good as I felt.”
Daria would yield against him, surrendering herself even while she rocked back and gave as good as she got. She would be all loose limbs and clenching muscles as she wrapped her legs around him and asked him to fuck her faster, harder.
Yes, Charlie. Please, Charlie. Fuck me so hard, Charlie.
“Charlie…”
The reality was even better than any fantasy.
“Keep saying my name,” he pleaded, caution thrown out the window as a blinding heat seized him. His jerks became erratic, control no longer a variable as he desperately chased the high. “Tell me what you are seeing.”
“I see you thrusting so hard, Charlie. I see you imagining what you just described. I see your thumb rubbing against your tip. Your hand’s big but your cock…it’s stupendous.”
There was no fear in her voice, only nerves. Only passion. There was no stopping those eyes from watching him as he jerked himself off, swallowing every moment as if it was her own.
“I’m close, Daria.” But he needed one last boost. “Have you ever touched yourself before?”
“All the time.”
And that was what pushed him to the brink: the visceral picture of Daria with her legs wide open and her fingers in between them as she worked herself up in a frenzy and writhed towards her impending pleasure. Face flushed. Mouth agape. Nipples flush and clit so stiff.
Charlie shouted his orgasm as he shattered against his hand, then sprayed the rest of his seed towards the wall. Blackness swam in his vision, rendering it impossible to see anything beyond the blindness and feel anything aside from the waves of pleasure that rolled over him. He basked at that moment, a helpless surrender, before coming down from the bliss and into the reality of the water turning cold, his cock still half-erect, and Daria still there by his side. When he glanced at her, she was as frozen in place as the last time and trembling slightly.
“Did you have your fill?” he asked.
“No. I mean…yes.”
She sounded out of breath, like she had just run a marathon. She was so lost, so confused…so turned on. He saw it in her flushed cheeks, dilated pupils…the way she rubbed her thighs together in the hopes that no one would notice. It became impossible not to imagine how she was down there. Wet. Glistening. Fighting it.
Best friend. Best goddamn friend.
But didn’t he already cross a line today?
“You enjoyed it,” he said before he could stop himself.
As if his voice was a trigger, she stopped rubbing her legs.
“I satisfied a curiosity.”
