Chapter 4: Sherry's Diary - Weekend at Jen's

Yes, my diary, it's time to pretend I'm writing to Jen ... again. I really wish I could tell her this stuff, or at least rip this page out of my journal and mail it off to her. But I just don't have the guts. Maybe someday ... yeah, right. sigh...

Dear "Jen",

I was so happy when you told me you'd be back in Florida for two weeks housesitting for your great aunt! I've missed you so much since you moved to DC.

Last weekend was great! Still, I'm a little disappointed that it didn't turn out even better. I think you might even have a hint of my feelings toward you now, but of course, I chickened out again.

I'm sorry you got sick from too many rum runners. To be perfectly honest, I was trying to get you drunk so I could seduce you. I thought it would work, too, but nothing seemed to go right that night.

Our original plan (yes, Kyle was in on it - I'm so desperate that I'm willing to share him with you, or you with him) was to get you out of that sleepy retirement neighborhood where your auntie lives and take you someplace more interesting. Kyle thought we should go clubbing; I thought we should go all out and head straight to Beach Bunnies. Either way, I would've tried to get you acting as crazy as possible before suggesting that we crash at my apartment, where anything could've happened.

I can't blame you for insisting on following your auntie's stringent rules about not being away from the house and her dog for too long, especially at night. But while I admire your sense of responsibility, it was damn frustrating.

Then there was Plan B: goof around with you and Kyle in your auntie's pool. I brought along my micro-g bikini for its long-awaited debut, and I was ready to dare you to show off just as much skin. Then Kyle and I would start fooling around – silly stuff at first, then hot and heavy – and I'd try to get you involved somehow.

It was vague plan, but I figured that I could improvise a way to get us naked together. However, one look out the back door crushed my dreams - the pool was torn up and dry, in the middle of being re-tiled. Argggggh!

So it was down to Plan C: ply you with alcohol and rent a dirty movie to lower your inhibitions. Of course, the local video store down in senior citizen land didn't have any real "adult" movies, so we had to settle for some stupid 80's T&A teen flick. As it turned out, it was actually kinda fun sitting around the living room with you and Kyle making rude comments about the moronic plot, which was basically an excuse for frizzy-haired starlets to show off their fake boobs. What more can you expect from a flick called "Bimbos From Space"?

Of course, I liked looking at you much more than the chicas on the screen. You turned me on just lounging there on the couch in your baggy t-shirt and sweats. When the movie was over, I planned to suggest we play strip poker, trying to get you naked in anticipation of jumping your bones on the couch. So I stayed patient while keeping the rum runners coming.

But I guess I served up a few too many, huh? I've never seen you so wasted, Jennie. I couldn't believe the stuff you did when we were in the kitchen gathering ingredients for ice cream sundaes. You do remember, right? You started yelling "I love nuts! And cherries! Mmmm, love them nuts and cherries!", then picked up two maraschino cherries by the stems and ran your tongue underneath them like you were licking a very different pair of nuts. I joined in, and our tongues brushed for a second ... whoa! At that moment, I was so hot and so wasted that I finally had enough nerve to make a (little) move. Do you remember (did you even notice???) that I grabbed your boob through your shirt? I'll never forget...

But right then, you got a very odd look on your face. I thought you were freaking out when you ran out of the room, and I was terribly embarrassed until I heard the horrible retching sound from the bathroom and realized that you'd gotten sick.

I'm so sorry I made those drinks so strong, Jen! I was trying to get you ready for lovin', but I guess I overdid it with the Captain Morgan. That's why I went in the bathroom to keep you company while you prayed to the porcelain god, got you a towel and a big glass of water, and helped you upstairs to the guest room. I felt so guilty about making you so sick, and I was terribly disappointed that my long-enduring lust for you would remain unrequited.

After you were safely tucked in, I couldn't help remembering the touch of your tongue and the feel of your (clothed) boob under my hand, and I began to feel horny again. You had a similar effect on Kyle, too, I guess, because he suggested that we "try out" the HUGE king-sized bed in the master bedroom that you generously let us use. We giggled our way up the stairs, and it wasn't long before we were naked and "trying out" that bed pretty vigorously, if you know what I mean.

Maybe it was the rum runners that inspired us to get kinky. I don't know how we ended up on the floor, but after a few minutes, we were on the carpet beside the bed, slapping skin in the dark with me on top.

Kyle jokingly mentioned that with you asleep, we could go downstairs and fool around in the living room while re-watching the movie. I laughed, but he gave me an idea. I maneuvered us so that Kyle had his feet under the bed and his head pointed towards the closed bedroom door, then stretched forward to grab the knob and swing it open.

The faint nightlight in the hall seemed really bright flooding the formerly pitch-dark room. Kyle's eyes about bugged out – I guess he hadn't been serious about going downstairs after all. However, he didn't ask me to close the door, and we continued our hot sex in that open bedroom, very aware that you were in the same house, on the same floor.

Our wild motions were taking us a little closer to the doorway with every thrust. Kyle and I realized this at the same time. I looked down at him at the same instant that he looked up at me, and our eyes met with matching twinkles. Without saying a word, we both began to actively scoot ourselves in that direction.

My boobs bouncing crazily as I tried to inch us along the carpet with my knees and Kyle helped push us along with his feet. Soon, Kyle's head was out in the hall, then his chest and shoulders, then his torso up to his waist. When I got to the doorway, I reached out and pushed off the doorframe with both arms, making a soft squishy noise as his sex-dampened tush slid out onto the hallway floor. I looked back and saw him push off the wall with his feet, sliding us completely clear of the bedroom rug.

Kyle sat up a bit on his elbows so that it was mostly the wet parts of our anatomy that touched the waxed wooden floor. We were both more focused on moving along than actually having sex, but we never disengaged our private parts. We jerked along the floor like some sort of obscene crustacean, leaving a shiny trail - I bet we looked hilarious. But the "copulation crab" had a definite (tho unspoken) destination: you.