It was a warm Sunday afternoon. Carol was sitting outside her favorite coffee shop under a large black sun umbrella. She was wearing a short yellow sundress and white sneakers. Her long blonde hair hung in pretend casual waves around her face. In reality, nothing about her in this moment was casual. She was sitting up so straight it felt like her spine was a metal rod. Her left foot was tapping incessantly and her coffee was getting cold because she kept shaking so much every time she tried to take a sip that she ended up spilling the delicious black salvation.
The reason for her nerves came walking up. Gave her an awkward “hi” from the other side of the table and sat down across from her. Bruhmilda Abrahams, a sort of friend, volleyball foe, and recent sexual partner had long bushy red hair. Today it was teased up into a bit of an 80s afro perm. It made the already attractive redhead look downright hot. She was wearing a black crop top, jean shorts, and converse hi tops. She looked about as nervous as Carol felt.
They exchanged pleasentries, ordered more food than either of them were in the mood for, grabbed at their respective phones whenever they heard a beep, talked about work, the weather, their parents, until finally there was nothing left to say.
“So,” Bruhmilda started. She’d relaxed during the chitchat but now she clenched and unclenched her fingers as if she was squeezing invisible grips.
“So, last night was wild. I think we both went a little further than expected,” Carol replied. It was an understatement. As a punishment for losing a volleyball game, Carol was supposed to do an embarrassing sexual thing with Bruhmilda. Everyone was supposed to laugh and egg them on. They were not supposed to get into it. They were not supposed to fuck each other’s brains out. They were not supposed to be sitting here talking about the consequences.
“So, what do you think we should do about that?” Bruhmilda felt tension leave her shoulders as if asking the question absolved her and put the decision in Carol’s court.
“Nothing,” Carol realized it the moment Bruhmilda sat down. She didn’t know what had gotten into her the previous night, but in this moment she didn’t feel even a modicum of attraction for the girl sitting across from her.
“Nothing?” Bruhmilda felt as if someone had stepped on her fingers and was grinding their foot down. Pure white shocking pain.
“Bruhmilda, you’re married. I was at your wedding. You fucking love Joel. I’m in a relationship. I mean, I don’t see myself marrying Mike. But, we had sex last night and every part of it was better for me. Don’t get me wrong, sex with you was amazing, but.”
Bruhmilda interrupted before Carol could finish her thought, “but it was amazing, right? Oh god, Carol, your tongue, your hands. You’re right, I love Joel, but what he does makes me cum. What you did turned me into a moaning, drippy, slippy mess.” Bruhmilda said this in a low conspiratorial whisper.
Carol’s head snapped around as she checked if somebody heard Bruhmilda. She was disappointed to find out that nobody was and in that moment she realized something, “it’s not you, Abrahams.” Without thinking she called Bruhmilda by her surname, easily switching back to the competitive neutrality of the court.
“Of course it isn’t, but it could be. Even if it’s just a fling. It could be me, it could be amazing again, Lane,” Bruhmilda countered.
“No. You didn’t let me finish. I just realized. It’s not you. It’s not Mike either, but why did I cum so hard with both of you then? Then I got it. It was the excitement, the taboo. First it was you who had me basically in your power. If I denied you I would have been labeled a chicken. Then the crowd and the fact that I was going so wild with a girl. Then with Mike, it was cheating. It was the knowledge that he didn’t know, it was the scratches on my back, the bruises on my pussy and ass from the strap. It was the fact that everything could fall apart at any moment that drove me crazy. It’s not you, it’s me, I’m a bit broken it seems. But I like it so much that I can’t help but wonder how far I’ll go for more.”
Bruhmilda was quiet for a while. To her credit, she didn’t look surprised or angry. Instead, it was as if you could see the wheels in her brain turn. The fact was that she couldn’t help herself either. She had gotten a taste of something wild and she wanted more.
“Then take me home to Mike,” Bruhmilda said with a sly smile on her face.
“Take me home, tell Mike I’m your gift to him, a threesome. Play that out. You could have both of us while Joel knows nothing. Then when that gets played out we can bring Joel in, or you can rat on me, console him, and fuck him. I really don’t care, Carol. I had a taste and I want more,” she grabbed Carol’s knee below the small table.
“This isn’t going to work. I told you, it’s just not you,” Carol lied. In truth her heart was beating like a double bass pedal at the possibilities in front of her.
“Your voice is sounding kind of shaky,” Bruhmilda moved her hand slowly up Carol’s thigh and discreetly tried to shift her seat around the table. The chair, however, had other plans. Its foot caught in a crack, did a little catch-flick-bounce and somehow Bruhmilda ended up with her chair right against Carol’s and her hand all the way up her dress. “Your voice is kind of shaky, and you aren’t wearing panties,” she breathed.
“Bruhmilda…don’t,” Carol whispered. She shifted forward in her seat causing her friend’s fingers to spread her puffy labia. “Oh!” a single moan escaped her lips.
“Don’t? Don’t try to convince you? Or don’t make you cum in public?” she found Carol’s clit with her thumb, pressed it into the blonde girl like a rubber button and started rolling it in slow firm circles.
“Aaahaaa,” a long moan was pulled involuntarily from her throat. Carol’s legs spread and her hips slowly rocked as two fingers were pushed deep inside her. “Please, I agree. Your idea is amazing. Let’s just go tell him now.” Words tumbled out of Carol’s mouth but despite heads turning her way, Bruhmilda knew she couldn’t stop now.
“Of course. We’ll leave right now. All I need is for you to cum,” she moved her fingers harder, faster, the pumping of her arm obvious in the movement of her shoulder.
“Mmhmm, I’m soooo close already,” she said as softly as she could and bit her lip till it felt like it would split.
“No,” Bruhmilda growled. “I want you to cum for everyone to know. Don’t,” she slammed her fingers into Carol, “hold” again and again she punished the blonde’s tight, soaked cunt, “back!” She worked Carol’s pussy so hard and fast she could hear the slop of her hand pulling against the wetness. So she went harder.
Carol’s mind was a mess. The words, the actions, the fingers all worked together to one certain result. Carol let out one long pleasure filled cry. She clamped her legs around the hand inside her. Her fingers gripped the edges of the round table, and with a shudder that ran from her womb to her forehead to her toes, Carol came.
A shaking hand fell on her shoulder and the manager of the cafe furiously hissed, “pay, leave, and never come back.”
They were all too happy to do just that.