"Ohhhh."

What a mess!

What a fucking mess - literally. She shivered even though the physical heat of Michael's body warmed her thoroughly. That was part of the mess - it was Michael's body. God, what a mess.

They were stuck together - literally.

Sometime during the night Michael's semen had leaked out of her and their thighs were now stuck together. Oh, it wasn't quite 'Superglue' stuck together, but it was certainly more stuck together then a "post-it" note. And there had been a lot of semen last night. Stacey couldn't help but smile... damn, she had come so many times. Michael had come too, more then once. Oh yeah, there had been a lot of semen.

But now they were stuck, and Stacey had to pee. She really had to pee, and they were really stuck. And slowly seeping into this predicament was the realization as to just how big a mess this could really become. Mess-wise this was bubbling right up there to the top.

Michael shifted and the semen-bond between them was conveniently severed. Thank God. Stacey rolled slowly out of bed and walked quietly to her bathroom. She was barely on the seat when her muscles released, and a tremendous torrent of piss emptied from her. She drank way too much last night - way too much. Sure she could use that as a reason for what had happened, but it wouldn't do much for the reason why it had happened.

No sooner had she finished peeing, she was reminded of her activities - the remainder of Michael's semen dripped from her. She covered her face in her hands as she squeezed her muscles trying to get rid of as much as possible. God what a mess.

Stacey wiped her tender lips clean. Damn him! Why did it have to be Michael? She'd just about known him her whole life, and he was one of her best friends. She could talk to Michael about anything. She could share anything with him. Okay, after last night, make that everything. She groaned.

Why did he have to be some kind of hot lover? He was incredible. What woman wouldn't want a lover as skilled as Michael? Why did it have to be him? She dropped the sodden tissues in the bowl and walk slowly back to bed. Damn him! Look how cute he looks there, in my bed, so satisfied from a long night of loving.

Lifting the covers, she was assailed by the co-mingled aroma of their passion. Her body responded as she inhaled their scent. Damn him! His scent had been part of her downfall. Things between them had gotten out of control, and she had thought to put an end to it with a simple hand job and nothing more. After an unintended night of making out and free-roaming hands, it was a solution that was a little bit daring, a little bit naughty, and definitely a little something to remember this night bye. Only it didn't quite workout the way she thought it would.

She should have never let it get to that point anyway! They had been flirting outrageously last night. But they'd done that in the past, and it had never gotten out of control. They had always kept it verbal. They had very carefully avoided any kind of sexual contact - always.

So why then when she'd accidentally spilled her beer on him had she insisted on removing his shirt and jeans to dry them? Even worse - he purposefully spilled beer on her and practically stripped her bare right then and there. She should have put a stop to it. She should have thrown him out.

She certainly should not have gone along with him and let him undress her down to her bra and panties. And she sure as hell shouldn't have accepted his offer for a neck massage as a means of apology. The massage had been the beginning of the end. Oh God, those hands and those damn fingers of his!

If only he had kept his hands on her neck. Oh, no! Not Michael. Not Mister Magic-Touch. He had to touch all her exposed skin - shoulders, back, ribs, belly, hips, thighs, calves, and feet. And she let him. Damn! He must have planned this from the start.

She was relaxed and trusting - so trusting that while he massaged her feet, she stretched back on the couch and let her legs fall open. Her panties were soaked. He probably could smell her. Too bad for him, he couldn't see anything.

She was so relaxed - so aroused - that when he asked her for "one little bitty touch" she said nothing. She let him do what he wanted, or at least what she thought he wanted - cop a feel of her tit - but he wanted more.

Lying side-by-side, she was on her back. Her knees slightly spread, bent, and one knee rested on his thigh. His hand moved back and forth above her breasts and that's when she felt it. It was hot, hard and pressing against the back of her thigh. He was just as turned on as she was. The thought that he was erect and that his cock was just inches from her wet cunt thrilled her.

She heard herself say, "Oh, did I do that?" And he responded - boy, did he respond. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He rolled over between her legs. She felt 'it' press against her body. Still kneeling between her legs, he rose up, and she saw it - his magnificent cock. It jutted out from his boxers - long, thick, and glans flared. She instinctively reached out and touched it, wrapping her hand around its hard heat. Touching it. Stroking it. She moved closer and closer to it. She licked it. Tasted it. Sucked it - eager to get all of it into her mouth.

Damn him! She had let him cum in her mouth, something that was reserved for special boyfriends, one of which he most certainly was not! To make matters worse, she had even swallowed - which she never did! She swallowed. Damn him! She swallowed, and she knew for him she would swallow again. Not that there would be another chance - no way.

She smiled. He had been no better off. Her breasts swelled when she remembered his enthusiasm for her scent, her taste, her cum. Her biggest orgasm of the night came when he went down on her after he'd cum inside her. No guy had ever done that and she had certainly never dared to ask for it. But he had, willingly, enthusiastically and completely.