Hi. My name is Chloe, and I've read what Dad wrote about my Thanksgiving weekend at home with him and Mom.
"Tearing up her freshman dorm?" "Breaking hearts left and right?" Where does Mom get this stuff, anyway? I'm not a heartbreaker, and I don't dump people left or right or any way at all. That's not how I want to be treated, so I don't treat other people like that. Cute daughter? Well, yes, some people consider me cute (she said, modestly). They think Sylvia, my roommate, is cute, too. She and I look a lot alike, except she's blonde and I'm brunette.
Several of you asked Dad what happened at Christmas, and he told me I had to write it since it was my story. So, it's my turn now.
Where to start? Well, on the train back to school I let myself doze and I got all warm and toasty and even a little tingly as I remembered kisses from Mom and Dad and tongues and lips and how they wound me up tighter than ever before and then I tipped over into that rush and glow and it was so good I wanted to scream about it.
I didn't, but I bet I looked pretty goofy afterwards. Mom and Dad didn't seem to mind. Dad had covered my face and neck and boobs when he came all over me, but he and Mom weren't even done yet! I don't think they know how much I can hear from their room when they get noisy. It was OK. I was busy myself right then, once more before I went to sleep.
Back at school, Autumn Quarter, from midterms a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving until Christmas break, was, well, a bitch, to put it plainly. My papers--I had two of them--were due two weeks before finals, which meant I had a week to finish. I'd done all the research pretty much; all I had to do now was write. Dad had one rule about writing: "Start at the beginning, Chloe, and go through to the end and stop." I don't know how many times in high school he told me that when I complained about term papers, and I can hear him saying it now. He's a writer so he ought to know, right?
Anyway, that first week back went pretty quickly. Except that most nights I fell asleep with my fingers busy as I remembered how warm the fire felt on my bare skin and Mom's soft lips caressing mine and how my palms loved holding her firm boobs. I hadn't touched Dad, not there, anyway, at least not yet, but I wondered how he would feel.
Friday afternoon I was finishing the final proof on my second and last paper and was about to e-mail it to the instructor when Sylvia came back from the library and banged open our door.
"Hey, Chloe! Want to go to the cabin with me and Ryan tomorrow?"
Ryan was right behind her. Big grin on his face. Thinking what he was probably thinking about made me a little warm. Why not, I thought to myself. Next week was Dead Week, classes were over, pretty much, so it was going to be a grind. Why not have a little fun and blow off some steam first?
"Sure, unless you two want to be alone?"
Sylvia came over to my desk and took my face in her hands.
"Never. We both want you to come."
"With us, I mean."
Hah. That's what I was figuring. Did I want to? Well, yeah, actually. I felt the start of a tingle. I looked over her shoulder at Ryan.
"What about you?"
"I really want you to come, Chloe."
"Ha ha, Ryan. Very subtle."
I looked at Sylvia again. The tingle I felt was a little stronger.
"You sure, sweetie?"
She kissed me.
"You bet, Chloe."
"OK. When are you leaving?"
"After lunch, OK?"
This time it rained all the way up to the cabin. No sunning on the rocks, topless or not. I shivered when Sylvia opened the cabin door and I stepped inside. No way I was taking off my clothes this time.
"Chloe, help me bring in some wood, will you?"
I followed Ryan around to the woodshed. It was freezing and by my third trip I was soaking wet, even with my rain parka. The good news was that we now had enough wood inside to go through the night, if we wanted to.
An hour later, things were looking up. Ryan's fire crackled, my dry clothes were soft against my skin, I'd piled our stuff in the corner, and the stew Sylvia was heating (thank god for prepared foods!) was making my stomach growl and my mouth water. I almost said, "drool," but it wasn't quite that bad. Yet.
The shivers had turned to flutters in my stomach, and they weren't food-related. Look, I'll just come out and say it: I'm a virgin. I mean, I've never had a cock in my pussy. I've had some other experiences, though. I may not have gone all the way, but I've sure had fun getting part of the way "there."
One thing I can't deny. I'm kind of focused on that "all the way" thing. Not obsessed about it, no way. No. Some girls snicker when they talk about it. What's the difference, they say, between a guy's dick in your mouth and one in your pussy, anyway? There is to me. At least I think so. Well, yeah, maybe I am obsessed about this after all. A little, at any rate.
I told Mom and Dad that Sylvia and I "weren't like that," which is true, but it's not like we haven't fooled around a little. I mean, where do you think those pictures of my bottom and kissing in the pool that I sent to Mom and Dad came from, anyway? Plus, Ryan's cock isn't the first one I've seen, hard or soft, and Dad wasn't the first guy to come all over me. There was Paul last year, and David earlier, and they were fun. I'm not complaining, but there's no need to spend any more time on them right now.
Dad wasn't the first person to eat me crazy, either.
So, I may not be Little Miss Experienced, but I've had a good time learning what I like to give and what I like to receive. All in good time, I say, and this weekend was shaping up to be a good time. For what, I wasn't sure yet.
My tingle was back, along with a seriously warm feeling in the right spot. What I'm trying to say is that I was getting really hungry, and not just for Sylvia's stew.
Another hour or so later the cabin was warm and we were warm and fed and happy once again. We were working on our second bottle of red when I stood up.
"I have an announcement."
It was the wine speaking, I think.
"I'm going to get naked."
Ryan and Sylvia's look was priceless. Then Sylvia grinned. Ryan adjusted himself. That was promising, I thought. Sylvia's grin turned into a smirk.
"You go, girl!"
So I got naked. Stretched, hands behind my head. Twisted from one side to the other. Not trying to show off, really. OK, maybe a little. Mostly I was trying to make like a cat. I felt the muscles in my neck and back pull and the tension started to melt. That felt seriously good.
"I'll join you."
In a moment, Sylvia was just as bare as I was and she stood and stretched with me, our backs extended, our boobs out, our arms as high as we could get.
Ryan? His tongue was halfway to the floor and in his loose sweats he was signaling his approval in the traditional male manner. Good.
Sophie and I paused to look at each other. Great minds think alike, and it must have been Ryan's best wet dream to be attacked by two gorgeous (if I may say so) nude women who were kissing every inch of his bare skin they could uncover.
We ended up in a laughing heap on the rug in front of the fire, Ryan's sweats and boxers around his ankles, Sylvia's hand on his erect cock and mine on his chest as I did my best to get my tongue down his throat. Smart boy that he was he'd decided resistance was futile, and his hand on my right boob was doing very welcome things for my tingles.
After we sorted ourselves out things got even better. I'm kind of hazy on what happened later that evening, to tell you the truth. I guess the wine hit me kind of hard. I knew I was safe. Ryan and Sylvia wouldn't hurt me. That's what made me want to do stuff--knowing that they wouldn't go any farther than I wanted to go.
Relishing the wet tongue between my legs, flicking against my clit, circling my lips, stabbing me oh so sweetly; returning the favor, first with Sylvia until she arched and tensed, then with Ryan, his cock warm and stiff with skin so smooth and soft, full and round in my mouth.
Getting hotter and hotter as Ryan thrust and thrust lion-style behind Sylvia. Her grunts and growls and moans and my fingers working my clit winding my spring like nobody's business until I was so tight I burst. The scream came from nowhere and forced itself out and I let it go where it wanted to.
Sylvia back between my legs later on, my clit loving her tongue, my pussy clamped on her two fingers until I was lost and gone and so warm and so relaxed I never wanted to move.
Waiting beside Sylvia on our backs, fingers linked, watching Ryan powering between her legs again, feeling each thrust as Sylvia jerked and tensed. Then Ryan's hot splashes on my tummy as he emptied himself over me.
Giggling. Maybe it was me? Ryan? No, guys don't giggle. Sylvia. It must be Sylvia. Catching. Laughter, both of us. Weak as a kitten.
Ryan again, fat and smooth and warm in my mouth. Pulsing once more, not so much this time, as I swallowed. Cleaning, licking, letting him slip out when he got small again. Sylvia holding me tight from behind while he finished, her hands warm and making small circles on my boobs.
Sleepy. On my side facing the fire, Sylvia spooned against me. Her hand warm on my hip. Ryan behind her, I think.
.... There is more of this story ...