Making a new friend

I invite Michele into my apartment.

“Check out the drawer for yourself.”

Michele pauses. She looks down at herself, clad only in a towel.

“Y’know,” I begin, “you’re wearing a lot less when you’re at our apartment pool. Come on in and check my drawer—I’m sure we can find something to else to make you presentable.”

Michele enters and stands uncomfortably in my living room. She balances on one leg and then the other. She holds up the towel with one hand. I jot a couple sentences into my book. She looks quizzical but doesn’t move.

“It’s funny, but at the pool, the bottom of your bikini is so flimsy that it rides up the crack of your ass.” A slight redness brightens her cheeks.

“And when you lie down on the deck chairs, I like to look between your legs. I’ve never seen hair, so you obviously shave. But I do see a cameltoe fairly often, especially when you are just out of the pool.”

Michele looks to speak but seems unable to say anything. Instead, she balances back and forth on her legs, gripping more tightly onto her towel.

“The more you tighten the towel, the higher it rides, Michele, and now I can see the curve that becomes your ass. Which is fine by me. I’ve always enjoyed knowing that your slit was protected only by one layer of fabric. Now it’s a towel. At the pool, it’s a bikini. When you go out on dates, it may just be the yellow sun dress you like to wear on first dates.”

Michele’s mouth is working, but she doesn’t seem able to speak.

“I sometimes think about you when you bring home a guy or when your car disappears for the night. I wonder how you decide how far to go. I don’t see you as truly slutty, so I imagine that you have to debate whether to let him even touch you ear lobe.”

I touch her ear lobe. She seems frozen in place but wide awake. And she seems to lean into my touch,

“And you have to debate whether to let him rub your breast through your clothes.”

And I rub her.

“And when to show off your killer body.”

I look at her and nod, and she looks surprised yet hungry when she drops her own towel. I move inches from her. She backs away half an inch. I’m much taller than she is, but she looks down, shy.

“Ah, you’re looking down, so you must see how hard you’ve gotten me.” I fold her small hand around the bulge in my shorts. She jerks me.

“I wonder what your out of town boyfriend would think about you right now. Look at me.”

Michele meets my gaze.

“He flies in monthly. College boyfriend, probably.” She nods. “He loves you.” She nods. “And you’re not sure whether you still love him” She nods. “And how do you feel when you first show your body to a stranger? when you realize you’ve gotten him hard? when another man slides his cock along your tongue? when another man cums on your perky sweet tits?”

Michele is motionless. I pull off my shorts, and she continues to slide her fingers up and down my cock.

“When your boyfriend visits, you always have sex at 10:00, after dinner, and then again at 7:00 in the morning. It’s like clockwork. That’s when I hear the headboard banging against the wall we share. But it lasts only a couple of minutes. But with strangers, or at least some of them, I hear you, and the banging goes on and on. I like to listen for your screams, for your orgasms. I like to think of what your boyfriend would say if he knew you were getting fucked by a stranger, what your mother would say. I like to think how you enjoy this other side of you, the slutty side.”

“Drop down.” She falls to her knees. I slide her towel under her, for her comfort. As she pulls my cock into her mouth, as she tongues my head, as she supports my balls, I gently rub her cheek.

“You will stay a good girl. And you will stay a slut, but you are now my slut. No one else’s.”

I hear a moan from her throat as I fuck her lips, back and forth. She has a small mouth but thick lips, and she wetly welcomes me as I cum into her.