Chapter 8: Steve

Bruce took Steve’s clothes as he handed them to him. Greg had given his to Bill, and the system seemed reasonable. Still, he wished he’d thought to hand his to Wayne.

Then, as Steve helped Greg rise from beside Gayle, he thought those three looked like a set. The Crew had been in Wisconsin longer than Greg and Steve had known Gayle in Chicago, but the slightly longer connections still impressed Bruce.

He and Bill hadn’t been roommates for long when they met most of the others. Gayle had fixed lasagna -- she had a more limited repertoire back then, or maybe a tighter budget -- and he, Bill, Greg, Steve, Gayle, Val, Sharon, and Jane had all enjoyed the meal and the drinks. They got quite merry, and they were all sitting in pairs, he and Gayle in the big armchair.

“Val is shy,” Gayle had said. “She likes to have the entire apartment for her and Greg. Can I go back with you?”

Well, if that meant that he’d have sex on the evening that they’d met, the answer was yes. Gayle’s bag was in her car, and she carried it upstairs. He noticed that the serving and cooking dishes went back with Val.

Steve was above Gayle, but not yet in her, now. Bruce noticed that Steve and Greg both took a long time in that -- seemingly awkward -- situation. Well, Steve had his present pleasure; Bruce had his memories.

They’d spent some time kissing in the living room back at the apartment, but Bill and Sharon had adjourned to Bill’s room fairly quickly. Gayle seemed reluctant to shed too many clothes in the living room, so he’d led her back to his room unsure how far she would go. He’d thought she’d offered earlier, but that hadn’t seemed to be the way she was acting in the living room.

When he’d carried her case into his room, though, she’d left her reluctance behind. He’d undressed her, and she had reciprocated. He only had a twin-sized bed in the apartment, and she had taken the center. He had not yet learned of the reward she gave successful eating of her cunt, and so he gave that a pass. Instead, when he got between her legs, she led his face to her breasts. He’d kissed them, almost suffocated himself between them, and finally suckled on the nipples.

When he needed to be inside her, she guided him in with good grace. Her cunt was large, but warm and smooth. He’d reached down between them and got to her clit.

Moving in and out to please himself, he’d stroked her button to please her.

“Yes,” she’d said. “Close.” He’d been close, as well. When she came, it was like being on top of an earthquake, but one that drew every bit of seed out of him. He’d fallen on top of her, and only moved off later.

In the morning, Sharon showered first, and Gayle showered second. Gayle had fried eggs for Bill and him before leaving. It had been a Saturday, which meant that he didn’t need to be anywhere until his barista gig started in the late afternoon.

Well, his memories had moved faster than Steve’s realities. Steve was still moving in and out, but he seemed to be finding that he needed to speed up.

Gayle’s expression was serious. She might be enjoying herself, and the motions of her hands up and down Steve’s back suggested that she was, but she was taking her pleasure seriously.

Steve stopped moving, at a point when Bruce doubted that he could, to suckle Gayle’s breasts. She drew her fingernails down Steve’s back to his ass, and he started moving, and moving faster than he had been.

The expression on Gayle’s face was agony, although it was her nails digging into his shoulder. She bucked once, and he drove even harder into her. He shuddered as she threw her arms and legs out to the sides.

They both collapsed. After a minute, Steve moved off. After another minute, he came to Bruce for his clothes.

Bill watched Steve hold out a hand to help Greg to his feet. At the same time, the gesture was Greg handing Gayle over to Steve. The crew was a federation of equals, but if some were more equal than others, those three were. Well, he had his own understanding with Gayle, and she had seen that he got the ritual that he wanted. She got what she wanted out of it, too, of course.

That was more of the meaning of “consensus” than Steve’s elaborate procedures.

Well, Steve’s procedures currently were not so elaborate -- more basic. He’d gone between Gayle’s legs and over her, but he hadn’t gone the last inch. Instead, he’d kissed her and whispered to her. It must have been questions, because Gayle nodded to the first and shook her head to the second.

Steve leaned back on his knees and kissed hers. His kisses progressed up one thigh and then the other. He skipped her cunt, which must be sopping with others’ leavings by now. He kissed her belly though, and then up to her tits.

Steve got on his elbows with a tit in each hand. He kissed the tip of one and then of the other. He moved his head and his hands so that he gave them attention alternately until Gayle reached around his elbows and between their bodies. Steve moved forward slowly, and they were joined. Still in her all the way, he sucked on one nipple, changed to the other and suckled that.

He set up a rhythm. Moving slowly out and in, then, buried deeply in, playing with each tit.

Bill could remember just what Steve was feeling buried in Gayle’s cunt. All around his cock was a mass of welcoming warm softness.

And in his mouth was another warmth, the softness of the tit-flesh and the firmness and responsiveness of the nipples.

Gayle said something and stroked her hand down to Steve’s butt. Steve moved in and out more regularly, not much faster, but no longer stopping when he was furthest in.

Bill could see Gayle squeeze Steve’s ass cheeks. Steve pulled further back and pushed in harder. He was moving faster now, and Gayle was moving under him.

Gayle said something, and her expression looked worried. Steve took his hands off her tits and put them on the air mattress. He raised his torso a little, and he used that leverage to push harder when he went in.

Gayle was undulating under Steve, and her face looked pained. Then it grimaced. She slammed her hands and feet down, and her hips rose off the mattress.

Steve drew back until he was almost out. He paused there one second and then drove in.

Bill could hear Steve slap against Gayle and then Gayle slap against the surface. Steve’s feet rose up, and he quivered all over.

Then Steve collapsed on her. He lay there for a minute, gasping, and then he said something to Gayle.

When he got off, he backed off, coming away between Gayle’s feet as he’d gone in. Then he got to his feet and looked for Bruce.

Sharon watched Steve help Greg up. The longer they took, the more time Gayle had. She looked at Gayle’s face, and she looked alert enough to speak for herself. When Steve started right off, she almost said something, but Steve paused to kiss Gayle before she did. They were communicating, and it seemed that Sharon wasn’t needed.

Steve started off with foreplay. She shouldn’t be surprised; Steve always had. She had thought of this evening ritual as some sort of serial rape, but the guys didn’t seem to. Each seemed to want to be the one giving Gayle the best climax. Sharon wasn’t convinced that six mega-climaxes would be any less stressful than six rapes would be, but Gayle seemed to be bearing up fine after the first four.

And Steve knew what he was doing, even though he didn’t stimulate Gayle’s vulva in his foreplay. But, then, Gayle clearly chose the time.

She could remember her first time with Steve, their second double date. The first time she and Jane had dated the two guys, she’d paired with Greg and ended up making out for hours. The second time, she’d agreed to switch partners. Greg and Jane headed back to the guys’ apartment. She’d been in Steve’s car.

“Want a nightcap?” she’d asked Steve.

“I’d love one.” So, they ended up in her apartment. They went from drinking to kissing, from kissing to caressing. She’d been stretched out on the couch wearing only earrings. He’d been kneeling on the floor beside her, with his trousers still on, but not his shirt. He was stroking her and sucking her breasts.

“Sharon, lovely Sharon, come for me,” he’d said. Her muscles were tensing and she could feel a fireball forming behind her eyes.

It burst, and there were stars and streaks of fire. She shook and shuddered. “Yes ... yes ... yes!” he’d said.

Then, he picked her up off the couch. She put her arms around his neck to hold on. “Which room is yours?” he’d asked. She had sort of gestured, and he’d taken her in and laid her on the bed. He’d taken a condom out of some pocket and showed it to her. Then, he’d shoved down his trousers but not his boxers. She hadn’t noticed his shoes going. He kissed her breasts while stroking her thighs.

She felt the warmth build again. When his strokes finally reached her vulva, he moved his mouth to hers. His tongue wrestled with hers as he stroked her towards her peak. Towards, but not quite there. She found herself writhing in need.

“Steve, now!” she said when she could escape his kiss to speak. His hands left her, and her need suddenly was much worse.

Soon, though, he was between her legs and at her vestibule.

“Sharon,” he said as he pierced her, stretched her, filled her.

“Yes.” Then his hands were on her breasts and his thumbs were on her nipples as he stroked deeply in and out. She surged against him, and he sped up.

The fire broke through and consumed her. He thrust deeply into her. Through the much more urgent sensations of her own climax, she could feel him pinch her nipples and throb in her center.

That morning, he had begun stroking her before she was quite awake. She escaped to the bathroom and, on the toilet, remembered how the night had gone. When she came back, she was quite willing to resume, and she noticed that there was a fresh condom on the night stand near him.

He roused the heat into fire again. His penetration eased the fire, and then it stoked it. The fire burst in her abdomen and threw her against him. He drove her down into the mattress and pulsed in her. They were still lying there entwined when his cell rang. Jane and Greg were on their way, and Steve and Sharon were (just) dressed when they arrived,

She and Jane had compared notes. They had found that the two guys had been their most satisfactory dates, let alone a double date, that they had enjoyed in a long time.

And those dates had introduced them to the others.

Now, Steve seemed to be coming to a conclusion, and Gayle was matching him in pace and -- clearly -- in enjoyment.

She clutched his buttocks, and that sped him up. Then she arched up. Steve drew back and rammed himself into her. Steve fell limp onto Gayle an instant before she fell limp herself.

Steve took minutes to lift himself off, but Gayle didn’t look terribly stressed by his weight. When Steve did rise, he backed into Trent, giving Gayle one more breather. She looked like she needed it.

Wayne watched Steve’s foreplay cynically. He shouldn’t worry; he’d gotten his, and the time Steve was taking was Trent’s worry. Besides, Steve shied away from going down on Gayle’s messy twat. That meant that Steve wouldn’t receive a moan tonight. Probably only Wayne would have that public acknowledgment of his erotic skill.

Then Steve was in Gayle’s snatch. That always was a satisfying place to be. You wouldn’t think so to see her dressed -- at least Wayne hadn’t when he first met her -- but she was sex personified when you got in her.

He and Trent had known Sharon and Jane and through them had met Greg and Steve. There was a party at Greg and Steve’s apartment, the only place large enough for eight people to eat. Gayle and Val were there, and he’d been immediately taken with Val. She paired up with Greg, however, and the way the others arranged themselves, he was left with Gayle. He could still remember thinking that they’d left the two overweight ones to each other. They’d gone back to the apartment and offered the girls a nightcap. After the drinks, Trent and Jane had disappeared into Trent’s room.

It was either shag Gayle or have her think him impotent, and he wasn’t that. He invited her into his room and started taking off her clothes. When she was topless, she pulled his head into her so his face was buried between her melons. He took his time with these and got quite excited. When he came up for air, she stripped him of his shirt, which she had unbuttoned while he was busy with her chest. When he got her jeans and panties off, her pubic thatch was more like a jungle. He’d explored it, though he hadn’t kissed it that time. She had finished stripping him and dropped back onto his bed.

“Come to me,” she’d said. Sprawled there, she had looked like Woman, not just a woman. He had climbed aboard, and she had guided him in. She was soft and warm and wet. He felt all of her body soft under him, and he held the tops of her breasts in his hands. As he moved in her, she matched his pace; it felt like some warm ocean waves bearing him up. The warm, gentle friction on his prick was arousing without rushing him to climax. It seemed to go on forever, and he was startled to hear Jane in the next room.

That cry aroused him further, and he increased his pace and pushed upward in the bed. Gayle matched the new pace. He was almost at his peak when she reached hers. The warm, undulating sea became a tidal wave, although Gayle’s mouth was silent. The warmth that had been so soft gripped him. He came in long spurts.

Steve was now coming close to a similar experience. Wayne could see Gayle push back, and her expression looked pained instead of happy.

Steve sped up and fucked harder. Gayle matched him and grabbed his ass.

Gayle reared up so hard she lifted Steve. He hammered into her and groaned. Then both of them collapsed.

Steve was slow to get up, as he had been slow to start.

Trent, watching Steve get in place between Gayle’s legs, could only think “Next.” Steve was the last one before him, and it was about time. Gayle seemed to be making it through. Some woman; no man could go four orgasms in a row. He wondered how many women could. Actually, it was five, Wayne having gone down on her first. Well, if anyone were up to it, Gayle would be.

“In a series of orgasms,” he had once asked her, “which is the best?”

“Well, it isn’t always the same. You want a definite answer?” He’d nodded. “It’s not always the same, but I’d bet on the third. You get more sensitive as they go on, and too much sensitivity leads to annoyance, even pain.”

They’d been naked then, lying in her bed. He’d gone back to playing with her boobs. She had so much tit flesh to kiss. Then down, down, down across the belly, avoid the thicket to the abundant thigh. Then up to her flowing cunt. She’d been already aroused when he’d settled in to lick up her abundance. He took his time, and she moaned and undulated when she came.