Chapter 20: Brand New Woman

Livia and I actually drive Cherry to the Candy Store around 10. We were going to hang in the bar before the contest, but given how packed it is we decide to hang in the car instead. Cherry is amazingly optimistic. Her presence dispels many of my own discontents. She really does seem like a brand new woman — confident, flirty, sensual and carefree.

It’s not just the wild, lewd Cherry we saw on stage at the Gemini Escalation either — she can fit in with the rest of society just fine, flirt discretely and talk lucidly and intelligently about things other than sex. We tell her most of the story about what went down on Friday, warning her about potential mean crowds. This also means at least eluding to what happened in the first and second Decans.

Yeah, of course she’s heard about it by now, the banana-eating mass orgasm event and the lesbian strip-show and the telekinetic top-pulling. She’s actually a bit peeved we kept her so sheltered and didn’t let her join the audience. I ask her how Jeri would have reacted. She laughs and is forced to agree. We promise to send her our N-VHS tapes of the show when they’re done being edited, and of the other Escalations too. She’s apparently looking forward to seeing the climax of the Cancer Escalation. Livia promises her private tapes from the cameras inside the tanning hut.

I ask her about name etiquette. She’s actually thought about it. She’s keeping the legal name Jeri, for doing conventional and professional things. She says it’s her Clark Kent. We call her Cherry, though, because that’s who she is. She hasn’t worked out her full future yet, apparently, but there are going to be life changes. She wants to get into dance in a professional way. She’s got the skills, we all agree.

And she wants a nightlife. She’s probably not staying in Philly too long, where her late dad has so many friends. She’s looking at the Big Apple, dreaming of getting into one of the dance academies that act as pipelines into Broadway. I’ve never been to New York, but I hear you can pull it off if you’re smart — lead a really dirty nightlife, and get professional accord by day in the more Bohemian artistic communities. It could work out.

We trade numbers and contact info, but shelve the professional shop talk for now. In retrospect, I say a bit too much at times, tipping my hand as to the background check we did on her, but she’s too happy, horny, excited and just all-around up on the world to notice. Cherry doesn’t want to talk about the future too much, though — it’s the last day of Spring Break! It’s time, she says, to wrap it all up with a bang! I get the distinct impression she means that literally, and Livia and I grin madly at each other.

I promised her a romantic date, I remind her, but I guess it will have to be a lunch date. There are some classy lunch cafes in Lauderdale, but not too many. She blows that off. She knows exactly what we want, and what we do with naïve young ladies, and she’s all-in for that. Looking forward to it, as a matter of fact. Yearning for it. But we need to get her to the airport for seven, so she can catch a flight back to Philly. She’ll take an IOU on the date, though, making me promise to see her again sometime. I ask her if she’s into “partying” with the Trips as a group. She sure is!

There will be shifts, Livia explains. Her and I worked this out before picking Cherry up. The Trips don’t all “party” together — Mimi’s a lesbian, and we’re all feeling wildly grateful to her after the bear-punching stuff. So it’ll be me, Livia and Cherry, and then the three girls, and then me, Livia and Cherry again. Why do I get two shifts and Mimi only one, Cherry wonders? Livia explains: Mimi is multi-orgasmic and likes extended play, whereas I, like any dude, have a refractory period. Cherry finds the degree to which we’ve mapped this all out both amusing and vaguely clinical, but also oddly exciting. This three-shift system actually becomes a recurring routine with the Trips, when we all want to spend some quality time with the same lady.

Livia and I are dressed down. I dyed my hair black, while Livia’s wearing a hairnet and sunglasses. We’re otherwise in casual Spring Break gear — short shorts and colorful shirts. We don’t really want to be recognized at the Candy Store. We take in the tail end of one of their signature Teenie Weenie Bikini contests before the wet t. Cherry is less comfortable openly perving on strange girls than Livia and I — like most women (and unlike Livia) she wants there to be some emotional texture to hang the attraction on. She does enjoy the general atmosphere, though. The crowd seems decent — not mean like at Summers on Friday, but not as mellow as the Gemini third Decan crowd either. Cherry leaves to go backstage and get changed. She kisses me on the cheek as she goes, which pleases me.

The bikini contests are outdoors, but the wet t-shirt is indoors. The Candy Store has bleachers, almost like a sporting event. The crowd is more fully dressed than Summers, and almost uniformly male. I do see some women, however, and they are all girls who were there for the Gemini Escalation. The announcer, a portly man in a cheap tux, calls the girls on stage one by one.

We see some familiar faces, probably because Summers is closed — Roach, Jeanne, the Asian anarchist and Mindy Matthews, among others. My heart leaps when I see Claire, remembering how her last wet t-shirt contest ended. There are about twenty girls in all, including five or six professional models who do this as a racket. Each wears a scanty white top with the words “Candy Store Wet T-Shirt Contestant” written on it in red.

The majority of the girls lose their tops during their individual dance routines. The music is all generic grind-synth stuff without lyrics. There are some quite nice collegiate and model breasts on brazen display, and Livia and I enjoy the show, but mentally we’re all about Cherry today. The women all apparently choose or bring their own bottoms — there are a few cutoff jean-shorts or tight short-shorts, and a number of bikini bottoms. There are also a fair number of white panties, though, usually of the lacy and vaguely translucent variety. Seeing bush at a wet t-shirt contest is fairly exciting, even if it is only a faint outline.

Finally, we get to Cherry. She comes out in a fairly intact, tightly-tied white top and some very daring, smooth white panties with a red elastic. She step onto the stage, and is announced as “Cherry from Philadelphia”, and gets two pitchers of ice-cold water dumped over her chest. The temperature seems to stimulate her, and she runs out and dances. Her moves are very aerobics-inspired, with a rhythmic back-and-forth shoulder pivot set, and then an acrobatic, fist-pumping running-in-place sequence, and then a hip-pivot with legs wide-spread. I wonder if she’s imitating Curtis in Perfect, or a more obscure aerobicise tape she has at home.

It’s actually a quite clever routine for a wet t-shirt contest — her chest is jiggling and bouncing wildly and her nipples are quite clearly visible against the wet white fabric, but she’s not doing the stereotypical “lean down and shake your cans in their faces” move. As a result, it seems — to my sensibility, at least — lewder, because her dancing is really sexy, and her breasts just happen to be salaciously visible. They aren’t the only thing, either — as soon as her panties get wet, a very visible camel toe forms. Her black bush doesn’t stand out against her dark skin the way all the daring brunette white girls’ do, but then she gets to the hip-pivot section, and it’s just really prominent, and she’s totally devoid of any embarrassment in flaunting everything.

Her cheer from the crowd starts out low but just keeps growing until it seems like it’s rattling the rafters. While the girls in the crowd are one in ten at best, I suspect most of them are here specifically to cheer for her after the Gemini Escalation. Their momentum — and that of many of the guys from Summers — just builds and builds, spreading throughout the rest of the crowd.

Her final dance bit involves some very suggestive hip-pumping that gets a big cheer from the crowd — and it helps that she has both the rhythm to pull that off, and the look of raw lust on her face to burn it into people’s minds. I know she’s an exhibitionist, but her Aura is going nuts — not, perhaps, to the same extreme as during the Gemini Escalation, but this is the whole remade being here on stage and her sheer joy moves my soul as much as her tits move my cock. After the hip-thrusts, she sweeps around and flounces back off stage. I realize she never dropped her top, though I don’t think she needed to do so in order to capture the audience’s imagination.

The other girls cycle past after her. I have difficulty paying attention to them. I’m busy creating a fantasy checklist of things I want to do to Cherry with Livia when we get back to the Beast.

And then we get to the part I’ve been waiting for. They bring all the girls out on stage and have them dance together. Cherry is monopolizing the stage. Other girls, most already topless, come over to her, make eye contact, lightly tug her shirt. Mindy Matthews seems icy toward her, but Claire and Jeanne are both very sensual. She makes eye contact with Claire, and guides Claire’s hands up to her neckline. Claire tears her shirt down the middle, exposing Cherry’s amazing breasts to the crowd, and Cherry shakes them triumphally. Then she wraps her arms around Claire’s waist and the two begin a very sensual, intimate kind of dancing.

After several minutes, the finalists are announced — it’s Claire, Cherry and Mindy Matthews. I have a feeling Mindy will win no matter what Cherry does — a wet t-shirt contest victory can be a credential for a model, and it’s often fixed behind the scenes. That sucks — Mindy’s hot, but has no business even being in the finalists given how detached her show was.

Cherry and Claire lean towards each other. Their lips purse. They kiss. Cherry demonstrates her willingness to break all the rules of porn star kissing a third time, and it’s pretty amazing, given that I can see how into it Claire is as well. And from there, it just goes crazy. The two girls’ hands feel all over each other’s bodies. Breasts get rubbed and fondled. Nipples get tweaked, rubbed, flicked, even sucked. Asses get squeezed. Hands start to slide between legs and into panties, without any shyness or restraint.

Cherry’s just playing, but Claire’s getting close to an orgasm — it makes sense, I guess, that Cherry’s sexual threshold is much higher after the Gemini Escalation. This is well outside the normal content for a Candy Store wet t-shirt show. The announcer walks over. “Ladies, ladies, that’s enough. You’re going to have to stop that or you might get disqualified.”

The crowd boos him loudly. Cherry and Claire look at each other. Then they both look at Mindy, who glares back at them. Two pairs of panties fall to the girls’ ankles, almost in unison. The announcer makes some vague and ineffectual comments that they need to stop that, it isn’t allowed, it could get the Candy Store in trouble. No one is moving to stop them, though.

Finally, the announcer confirms that Mindy Matthews has won the Seventh Annual Candy Store Wet T-Shirt Finals. He sets a sash with the title around her neck, and a plastic tiara on her head. The crowd boos very loudly. I do feel sorry for Mindy here — she gets the credential she wanted, at least, which is probably the important thing for her.

At the same time, Cherry moves behind Claire and bends her over the railing at the edge of the stage. Claire is gasping, and her big boobs are bouncing wildly to the crowd’s delight as Cherry aggressively rubs her pussy. The announcer, blushing furiously, is just in the process of handing Mindy a large bouquet of flowers when Cherry finishes finger-fucking Claire to a very wet and very vocal orgasm. Mindy Matthews is not amused.

Everyone else sure is, though, including us.

Livia’s driving, so Cherry decides to sit in my lap on the way back to the Beast. It’d be more romantic if I were eight inches taller and could enwrap her all possessively like in the movies. As it is, though, I’m in a perfect position to kiss and nuzzle the nape of her neck and trace her elegant shoulder-blades with my fingertips — she seems to like that a lot, and it keeps her nicely aroused even after her blatant exhibitionist stunt at the Candy Store.

She seems to feel the need to change positions a lot, squirming around, and I have no objection to this. Soon my hard-on is digging into Cherry’s thigh, which I’m pretty sure pleases her immensely. Cherry had only a brief shower at the Candy Store — they kicked her out as quick as they could. The whole van smells like sex. We’re all tangibly horny. I try not to distract Livia while she’s driving. “How do you feel about the contest?”

“I aced it,” she tells me with a smirk. “I saw the writing on the wall fairly early on, and I went and got myself a prize way sweeter than the formal one. And I’m pretty sure everyone knows who won, too. Did either of you catch the brunette girl’s name?”

“It’s Claire,” Livia says. “I’ll get you her number.”

“Sweet!” Cherry replies. “I’m more interested in you guys right now, though.”

The rest of the ride is silent teasing. We get to the Beast. Cherry and Mimi get formally introduced and shake hands, four days after Mimi ate Cherry out during a prolonged hypnotic orgasm. Cherry kisses Mimi. It’s not quite deep tongue action — more testing the waters — but it’s still pretty sensual. Mimi giggles in delight.

“I believe I owe you something from last time we met,” Cherry says. She takes Mimi’s hand like a knight might take a lady’s, but instead of kissing it she lightly licks between the first two fingers — an oddly sensual rendition of the crude finger gesture used to represent lesbian cunnilingus. Mimi giggles appreciatively, and shows us to the pickup crib.

“So,” Livia says, “it’s almost two. Marc, you’ve got an hour now, and an hour from five to six. That gives us lots of time to get Cherry to the airport.”

Cherry giggles and looks at Livia. The scheduling is still surreal to her, in a whimsical, dreamy way. “And you and I ... we get all the time there is, together.”

Livia grins. “Yup! Bi-girls rock! I’d say I hope you like marathon fucking, but we both already know you do.”

So Livia leads the way down to the pickup crib. Cherry is suitably awed by it, laughing in spite of herself. “You’re allowed to laugh at it,” Livia tells her. “It’s suave in its excessiveness. To be truly sexy, one much also embrace being silly, since sex itself is inherently silly.”

Cherry takes in the posters, the TV assembly, the lava lamp banisters, the orange shag carpeting on the walls and ceiling, the disco ball, the big mirrors and TV assembly around the waterbed, the faux zebra-skin rug on the floor. “Let me guess,” Cherry says. “This is Marc’s room.”

Livia grins. “Mine, actually. Girls can be horndogs too, you know.”

“So I’ve discovered,” Cherry replies, laughing. “So this is all you? Marcelo didn’t have any design input?”

“It looked just like this the night I first met Livia,” I confirm to her.

“Wow. Just ... wow.”

Livia hustles Cherry toward the washroom.

“Give me and Cherry ten minutes,” Livia says to me. “We’re not starting without you. Go lie on the waterbed.”

So I do so. When the two ladies came out, they’re dressed in matching sexy nurse costumes. My first thought is: after Wednesday, we’re stuffing Cherry in more silly costumes? Really? Hasn’t she had enough? But I look closer, and her Aura is really strong; she seems pleased with the getup. Both girls look really sexy, and Cherry is already in it — might as well go with it.

“Livia told me,” Cherry says, “that you were very heroic on Friday, that you saved two young ladies’ lives.”

“That may be a slight exaggeration, and Mimi deserves the majority of the credit,” I reply.

“And you hurt your leg in the process.”

“Yup.”

“And you got taken down to Holy Cross Health.”

“Yup.”

“And you had a chance to get some tender loving care from a cute blonde nurse, and you turned it down to spend the night with Livia and Mimi in jail.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Well, Livia was feeling a bit stressed that night, and appreciated it, and asked me if I would help her, ah, demonstrate that gratitude by giving you a taste of what you skipped out on for her.”

“Ladies, that nurse was pretty for an amateur — but she wouldn’t hold a candle to either of you alone. Both of you together...”

They walk closer, hands around each other’s waists. They really do look great in the costumes. Each has a white nylon short-sleeved minidress with red outlines and a red cross over one breast, and a red zipper right down the center. There are also white fishnet stockings, hints of white lacy lingerie under the dress and the stereotypical white cap with a red cross. Both of the costumes are very figure-hugging, with Livia’s especially showing off her double D’s.

They’ve also fixed their makeup. Cherry has a faint metallic copper eyeshadow that gives her a perfect sophisticate look, along with a deep brown shade of lipstick that manages the odd paradox of being both glossy and naturalistic-looking. Livia, well ... I take one look at her brilliantly red lipstick and know exactly which sex act she’s looking forward to focusing on. They look like Cosmopolitan models who wandered into the costuming department of a porn set and just decided to run with it. (Porn is probably more fun than a Cosmo shoot, anyway.)

“Lie down and take your clothes off,” Livia says. “We want to give you a thorough examination. A very tactile examination.”

“And a sponge bath,” Cherry adds. She’s holding a metal basin filled with soapy water and two large coral sponges.

I strip down to my boxers and lay back on the waterbed. It sloshes, accommodating my weight. It’s going to be weird, making love on a waterbed, but exciting. I’m shocked I haven’t done it before now, honestly.

Simply visualize this, O Libidinous Reader. You are lying on a waterbed with a clear mattress, naked. The room is shadowy, but the bed is lit from below with a soft tangerine light that illuminates everything on it. Standing over you are two women with centerfold figures in nurse costumes, one holding a pan of soapy water. They get on the bed and start crawling toward you. You’re still half-chub from having one of them sit on you lap in a van. They’re on their hands and knees, crawling toward you. And you’re not faintly wondering if this could really go there, you’re dead certain it will. Pretty nice mental snapshot for the gallery, wouldn’t you say?

Livia glances at Cherry and licks her lips in the most lovely, sensual way. Cherry giggles nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m still really new to all this kind of swinging stuff and I’m not sure what to call it...”

“Licentious and obscene debauchery?” Livia suggests.

Cherry laughs. “Yeah, that works.”

Each of the ladies picks up a sponge and starts working on one of my legs. The water from the bowl is cold, in contrast to the warm waterbed; it’s a nice feeling. There’s a lot of eye contact. “Can I ask you two a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Would you unzip each other a bit? You’d both look wonderful, from that angle.”

Cherry and Livia stand up on their knees on the waterbed, catching each other’s hands for balance as it sloshes around them. Once they have their equilibrium, Cherry leans down. She clasps the red plastic zipper of Livia’s costume in her lips and pulls it down, exposing a more than generous dose of olive cleavage packed into a red lacy bra. Cherry’s face lingers for a few seconds, right in front of Livia’s bust. Then Livia returns the favor.

Cherry looks down at me. “So you’re a breast man, Marcelo?”

If it were other women, I might give a more politically correct answer, something evasive about personality and individuality and it being a whole package, or hers being the best I’ve ever seen. But it’s these two, so I’m perfectly candid and sincere. “I really am, yeah. I love women’s breasts — all kinds, big and small, firm and jiggly. I love to look at them, I love to touch them, I love to feel them on my face and suck on the nipples. And I love the whole body, the feel of a woman’s body pressed against my own, the warmth, the sensation. I loved it when you sat in my lap, and I loved watching the way your breasts moved when you danced back at Summers and the Candy Store.”

I look up at Cherry, wondering if my bluntness will offend her. But it doesn’t. She just giggles proudly. “So you’re a dude. Big shock. It’s not like there weren’t any clues already pointing in that direction.”

She glances down at my half-chub. “And I do mean pointing.”

The girls laugh. I’m brazenly unashamed, even opening my legs a bit more. “And you, Cherry? What do you like in the bedroom? Be honest — I want to please you as much as you want to please me.”

I don’t usually ask girls this. It’s an awkward question and the usual response it gets is either “um ... stuff, you know, bedroom stuff”, or some generic quote they read in Cosmopolitan. Girls don’t even always know what they like, and have trouble articulating it when they do. But I want to at least give Cherry the chance. “I like dancing. I like romance. I like to be the center of attention. I do like seeing you naked, even though I suspect I’m not as visual as either of you two. And I like sensations. I like the way things feel on my body. I actually really like this costume.”

As she mentions the uniform, she runs her hands over it. She pulls down the hem and closes her eyes. I suspect she does like dressing up for her partners, but that’s not all — she likes the actual feel of the nylon, the texture of it. And I know in that instant what I’m going to do when it’s Mimi’s time to come in, and how I’m going to drive Cherry wild once Mimi and Livia are finished.

But Cherry continues speaking. “And I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I liked everything you two did during the show on Wednesday. Even the mean bits. You were right, about the humiliation somehow becoming fun. But I don’t want to go through all the ... the teasing, I guess you’d call it, again now. I’m ready for the main course today, so to speak.”

By this time, the ladies are working faster on the sponge-bath and have reached my torso. Livia crawls forward, so that her cleavage dominates my field of vision. It’s really impressive, and her corona of curly, luxurious black hair and sensuous expression definitely adds to the effect. I feel the rough sponge, and the icy water, on my crotch. It excites me — probably the only situation I know of where ice water makes a guy harder, but it does. I feel Cherry’s hand lightly graze my cock “accidentally”, and again, and again. Livia leans right over to me, bringing her mouth close to my ear. She licks my earlobe, and it both surprises and sharply arouses me. My cock suddenly gets a lot harder in Cherry’s hand, and she giggles and squirms.

The shifting surface of the waterbed unbalances Cherry, who falls forward into Livia. Droplets of cold water spray about, striking everyone on the bed and causing more squirming. Livia falls forward. Her cleavage ends up pressed directly into my face, which I have no complaints about at all. Cherry is now stroking my cock, up and down, up and down. Her hands are so soft, and her fingers so precise. I get rock hard pretty quick and just stay there. Livia’s breasts feel so great, pressed against my face, straining against the limits of that lacy red bra. We just stay like that for several seconds, and I treasure it. “Marcelo,” Livia finally says, “I love how much you’re enjoying my breasts, but we have to find a position that doesn’t compact my vertebrae here.”

So Cherry helps Livia back up to a sitting position, where she’s kind of straddling my torso. I notice that even the cute little name-tags on the costumes are correct, with plastic sticker-tape saying “Nurse Livia” and “Nurse Cherry” in the oddly indented font produced by the kind of handheld manual label printer seen commonly in department stores. I’m not sure why seeing the names of people you know on their fetish costumes makes the costumes so much sexier, but it sure does — and I don’t doubt Livia knows that, too, what with her thing for props. She sees my glance at the nametags and smirks proudly.

Cherry’s hands don’t go away after she helps Livia up. They slide down to caress, squeeze and massage her ample breasts. Livia’s grinding against me a bit as Cherry gropes her, and the hem of the nylon minidress is working its way up her torso. I can see the panties now — they’re stretchy red lace with full leg-holes, but only about three inches high and incredibly comformant to the shape of her groin. While they’re not really see-through, they might as well be painted on for how much they cling to every curve. Ironically, I hear they call this style of panty ‘boyshorts’ — though there is no doubt in my mind they’re made to accent the most intimate curves of a woman.

Livia is actually grinding more aggressively, now, and biting her lower lip in a way I find very erotic. I slide my own hand down my torso between her legs, palm down, until it slides between her pussy and my chest. She grinds her pussy against the top of my hand, the texture of my knuckles and fingerbones stimulating her pussy lips. I imagine the odd texture pleases her, for much the same reason a dildo might be ribbed or ridged. The panties are pretty wet by now, and I love the subtle lewdness of feeling that on my fingers as her pussy grinds my wristbones and knuckles.

With my other hand, I reach up and pull the zipper on Livia’s minidress down, slowly turning a low V-neckline into a ridiculously low V-neckline. Livia’s breasts are firm and don’t jiggle the way Cherry’s do, but I still enjoy watching them buckle as Livia grinds my hand with increasing vigor. It’s an odd way for a lady to get herself off, but I imagine Livia needs some novelty in the bedroom by this point — and I’m really enjoying watching her. The zipper finally reaches the hem of the nylon dress and it pops open.

Cherry pinches Livia’s nipples a bit hard, and she gives a passionate “mmph” and grinds my hand harder. I guide one of Cherry’s hands downward and she quickly gets the idea, sliding it just far enough into Livia’s panties to massage her clit. This is a threesome, after all — if someone’s going to get off, ideally both the other people involved should be doing something. I love the brief little excited “yay” expression on Cherry’s face, when she gets her hand into those panties and feels how wet Livia is, and how prominent and hard her clit gets when she’s really worked up.

There’s a faint sheen of sweat on Livia’s lovely olive skin, just like the Risqué Rope Routine seared into my mind forever. I reach my hand up and cup her left breast, sliding it inside the lacy bra. Her breast feels as great in my hand as it did during the Cancer Escalation, firm but supple and with a wonderfully prominent hard nipple. Cherry slides back slightly, and I feel the tight nylon hem of her nurse-skirt slide against my cock and finally snap over it. Cherry slides her free hand up Livia’s belly and inside her bra on the other side, to cup her other breast. I pinch her nipple experimentally, and she squirms violently, reaching a hand up to the ceiling assembly and grabbing on tight to steady herself. “Mmph, yeah, that, with the squeezing and pinching! More of that!”

I feel more of her sticky wetness around the hand she’s grinding on. So Cherry and I each pinch one of her nipples, and she arcs her whole body in response. I just have an absolute visual feast before my eyes: Livia, sweating, grinding really fast now, her breasts buckling, her mouth hanging slightly open and her eyelids fluttering. And behind her, Cherry’s face: fascinated and aroused and vaguely nervous about being so rough with another woman’s body — but mostly just awed by Livia’s carnal intensity.

“Hard!” Livia commands. So Cherry and I twist her nipples harder, and Cherry gets more aggressive with her clit. Cherry leans down a bit more to grip Livia harder, and my erect cock presses against her pussy, the abrasive lacy fabric of the panties and the plasticky smoothness of the nylon dress interior providing sensations that are odd but very stimulating.

And I just watch it, drinking it in with my eyes, as Livia grinds her way through a very satisfying orgasm. It is so amazing, so erotic, to watch the expressions on the face of an actual centerfold as she has a really raw, shivering climax — and to feel her on my hand at the same time! I actually consciously concentrate to limit my own pacing — if I wanted to, I could spray a surprise load all over Cherry’s wonderfully scratchy panties right now, just by letting go. Doing so would probably appeal to Livia’s sense of humor, and be pretty satisfying in a perverted way — but it wouldn’t be very classy, and I’m sure my patience will be rewarded.

Once the orgasm is done, I stop pinching Livia’s nipple. Livia lightly taps Cherry’s hand, to get her to stop grinding a clit that, at this point, is probably pretty sensitive. “Thank you,” Livia says. “Thank you both for giving me that wonderful moment. I’m pretty sure that’s the most fun a lady can have with her underwear still on.”