My best friend, Simon, and I tell each other everything. There is a girl we both know who was recently visiting from the West Coast. Although she is straight, I (who am not) once had the pleasure of kissing her. It was amazing.
Her tongue entangled in mine, our breasts barely touching. The kiss was short, and I could tell that she was the type of woman that every man should have at least once in his life. Simon told me about his date with her. It had been seven months since he’d moved to New York, and he did not know what to expect. He saw her walking toward him and waved. She looked exactly the same, with long, auburn hair that fell in large curls past her shoulders. Her long lean legs led to perfectly rounded hips. Her waist curved in, then widened into full breasts. Her gray-green eyes were large and penetrating.
She threw her arms around Simon’s neck. “Hello, there!”
“Hey, what’s up?” he said, grabbing her in a hug.
Her hair smelled like peaches and her skin like vanilla. The two of them chatted a while and decided to stop at a bar near his apartment, but the bar was dark and loud. Every time the door opened, the cold air blew in and brought the girl’s prominent nipples to life. She made a face and shivered. As soon as she and Simon finished their drinks, he took her hand and they walked to his place. As they passed the alley next to his building, he grabbed her shoulders, swung her around, and kissed her hard on the lips. He felt her breasts rise against him. He pulled away, then kissed her cheeks and eyelids, and nuzzled his face in her hair.
“I want to fuck you,” he whispered. She tugged at his belt, pulling the thin leather strip out of its loops. She unbuttoned his jeans and squatted in front of him. He closed his eyes and heard his zipper being lowered. She slid her hand into his briefs and caressed his dick. She pulled it out, wrapped her tongue around it, and sucked him deep into her mouth. His heart pounded. He sighed deeply. A car passed — a cop car. His body tensed. She stopped sucking.