Then, it was normal.Then, it was normal. When I mentioned to some of folks that Bob and Anna's friends were coming to make candles tonight, nobody blinked, nobody got sarcastic, nobody cared. It was normal. They showed up at nine, Nancy in jeans and a check shirt, Sandy in virgin polyester. They took over the front room and started cooking paraffin, taking out boxes of equipment, dyes and things. I quickly realized I had no interest whatsoever in paraffin, dyes or candles. Nancy, on the other hand, was more and more intriguing. Somehow, our bodies made contact a little more often than statistics would predict. Her tits would brush, accidentally, on my arm as she turned. She backed her ass against me as I was pretending to be interested in melting candlewax, and then did it again, without arousing Sandy's suspicion as far as I could see. After an hour, a dozen "accidental" contacts, and several longing looks, my body temperature had gone up a few degrees, my cock was sensitive and getting hot, and, fool that I was, I couldn't figure out what to do. I mean, what to do about Sandy? OK, OK, let's remember now. I was 20 or so, hard core was hard to find, group sex was something you read about but didn't do, and, mostly, I didn't have much of an imagination. What I wanted to do was get rid of Sandy. Politely. Now. The candles are made, and I'm sitting on the couch, Nancy to my right, Sandy at the left. Sandy leaves the room. Nancy reaches, over, feels my cock harden in my jeans. I kiss her fully, try to ingest her mouth. Her tits feel soft, not real firm, under her blouse, in one of those bras which don't feel like they're armor plated. Nancy lets air out in a long sigh as I let my hands wander over her, exploring her shape. She whispers, "I want you now". "What about Sandy?" "Don't worry about her. Eat me, now, please. I can't wait. |