1 comments/ 51569 views/ 1 favorites Experiments By: ravishingrick69 When Stan attempted to open the door, he found it locked. He peered through the tiny rectangle of glass and saw that the room was empty, save for a lone figure in the far corner. Candy Burton stood at her lab station, pouring over the procedure for AP Chemistry's latest lab experiment. She looked up as Stan knocked on the door, then made her way over to let him in. "Where's Mrs. Brighton?" inquired Stan as he entered. "She had to go pick her little boy up or something," answered Candy, somewhat disgusted. "I don't know why she bothers scheduling ESS if she's never here." "Who's coming?" Stan asked. "I thought it was just going to be us and you guys, but Sherri signed out. Probably got sick or something, you know." As Candy spoke of her lab partner Sherri Calwell, her frustration seemed to increase. "Yeah, well, Jon backed out on me, too. I thought I could get something done, but it looks like he took the procedure with him. Nothing I can do, I guess. Do you need some help?" "Well, since I have the most unreliable lab partner in the world, yeah, I could use some help." Candy replied. So she and Stan went to work on something that had to do with micropipette biology or some other damn fool thing. Stan didn't worry too much about the labs, just did what he had to to pass. Candy told him what to do and he did it. It was acctually pretty simple work, which gave his mind time to drift. . .and his eyes time to wonder. A genius-level cheerleader. Impossible, you say? It would seem so, but Candy was the exception to the rule. She had all the brains of your average rocket scientist, but the unmistakable attractiveness of a cheerleader, and even her alure was unconventional. She was not the skin-and-bones, long-legged, fuck-bunny cheerleader type. She was a bit on the plump side, but she ratiated a heat that no other member of the squad could match. Guys wanted to fuck the other cheerleaders; they wanted to submit to Candy's silent seduction. That's what it was, really: unintentional seduction. There was a way in her walk, the way she dressed, the way she would brush aside a severely curly and deep red lock of hair that made her scream "sex" without being revealing or slutish. It was the subtleness of her sexuality that made her all the more arrousing. Stan pondered on these thoughts, losing himself in his private fantasies, mechanically going about the business of chemistry lab. His daydreaming was bound to catch up with him sooner or later, and it finally did. "Could you get me one of the graduated cylinders out of the glassware room?" Candy requested. Stan did as she asked, still daydreaming of what her skin would feel like against his and a hundred other sensations that she could generate. When he came out, he handed the cylinder to Candy. "Thanks," she said turning toward him and then stopping, staring for the briefest of moments, before turning back to the experiment. It was the fact that she had not stared into his face that shook Stan to reality, that made him cast his gaze to the same spot that Candy's had found: the bulge in his jeans. He turned a furious crimson. Perhaps she hadn't been staring. Perhaps she hadn't saw. But that was impossible. She looked right at it. But she hadn't given any kind of reaction. Yet. "Could you help me with this?" Candy was lifting a large beaker of solution and poruing it through a funnel into the cylinder. Stan helped steady the heavy container. Abruptly, Candy said, "So, is that a test tube in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me." Stan blushed brighter than before. Yep, she'd seen. "Um. . .I. . .I didn't. . .I mean, I'm sorry," he fumbled and stumbled over an apology, but gave up when he realized that he was having no success. "Oh, don't worry about it, but I just wish you'd do something with it instead of just letting it stick out there for everyone to see." Candy said. "What do you. . ." Stan began. "You know what I mean," Candy said, her voice taking on a demeaning tone that Stan found quite arrousing. "Something in here had to turn you on. Why don't you go stick that in whatever it is and stop putting on a show for everyone." Taking her cue, Stan walked up behind Candy (who still appeared to wrapped up in her experiment, though Stan suspected it was all part of the game, now). He wrapped his arms around her waist, rubbed her partially exposed stomach, then ran his hands up to her ample breasts and massaged them through the slick, shiny material of her shirt. His favorite shirt: the one that looked like rubber from a distance. Her hips grinded softly back into his crotch and she finally began to neglect the experiment as her hands covered his, assisting him as he fondled her tits. "Come back here," Stan said into her ear, his nose burried in that curly mass of red. He pulled her slightly in the direction of the glassware room, a perfect hiding place for a couple of horny teens. "No," Candy said somewhat savagely. "If you want to do it, we're doing it here. We're not hiding." Again that demanding, controlling quality had crept into her voice, and Stan was arroused but degected at the same time. "Jesus, Candy, someone could see us," Stan said and pointed toward the rectangle of glass in the door. Candy sighed in frustration. "Well, if you don't want to take the risks, you best keep your cock under control." With this she attempted to pull away, but Stan held her firmly. If this was how she wanted it, and was the only way he could get it, he was more than willing to take the risk. Still standing behind her, Stan unbuttoned and unzipped Candy's jeans and let them fall to her ankles. He then slid her light pink panties down as well. Candy stepped out of them and spread he legs, leaning slightly over the counter, pushing beakers and instruments aside. Stan performed the same operation on his own pants, but only so much as to allow his penis freedom. He rubbed it against Candys bare ass, at which point she reached around and guided it into her honey pot from behind and Stan began pumping. Candy stretched her arms on the counter in front of her, remaining bent over, her head lowered. Stan placed one hand on her hip and brought the other around to grasp her breast and pull her up toward him. "Oh, yeah," Candy moaned, reaching over her head and placing a hand on the back of Stan's neck, pulling them still closer. Stan continued to thrust as Candy wirthed against him. "Oh, God. Harder, stan. Hurt me. Hurt me, stan," Candy gasped. Stan slammed into her harder and harder, doing his best to fullfill her wish. After several minutes of the increased assault, Candy reached her first orgasm. Her pussy tightened around his cock, her body shook and thrashed. Stan continued his rythm. Faintly, they heard voices approaching the door. As they grew louder, Candy recognized one as Mrs. Callahan's. "Oh, shit. Stop, stan. Mrs. Callahan's here." Stan only continued. "stan, she'll catch us." "You wanted me to take the risk," stan said looking toward the door as Mrs. Callahan appeared in the glass. Luckily, she didn't look in, for she was still holding a conversation with someone. She paused with her back covering the glass. "I'm almost ready to cum. If she catches us now, there's really no use in stopping. If you're scared, you shouldn't have asked for it out here." This said, Stan placed both hands on Candy's hips and began to pounder her even harder, pulling her into him with each thrust. Candy again bent over the counter, crying out with each penetration. As Mrs. Callahan's visitor left, Candy experienced another orgasm. As their teacher fumbled for the key to the room, stan issued a loud grunt as he shot his cum into Candy. As she slid the key into the lock, Candy squeezed with her vagina, thoroghly milking his cock. As the lock clicked and the door openned, Stan pulled out of her, rubbing a few final drops of cum on her ass. As Mrs. Callahan looked in their direction, Stan stepped from behind Candy and pretended to be reading the procedure while Candy kneeled down to look at the measurements on the graduated cylinder while, at the same time, gathering her panties and jeans together. "Hey, guys," said Mrs. Callahan, and for a brief moment, both stan's and Candy's hearts froze as she headed striaght in their direction. Literrally saved by the bell, her phone ring, prompting her to alter her course. She answered the phone, her view conviently blocked by the fume hood. During this time Candy disappeared below the counter, pulling her undies and pants back on and, on the way up, chancing a quick lick of Stan's cock before he replaced it in his shorts and refastened his pants. Mrs. Callahan hung up the phone and then walked to the lab station. She apologized for being late, and the kids apologized for their absent partners and for the fact that they had to leave shortly. "I have everything done except the calculations," said Candy. "I can do those tonight." "And I can probably get the procedure from Jon and finish mine tomarrow, if that's okay." Mrs. Callahan said that it was, and bid farwell to Stan and Candy as they walked out the door. Once outside, Stan said in a low voice, "Need some help with those calculations tonight?" "You bet," she replied, smiling. "Think you may need some help with that lab after school tomarrow?" "Oh, I'm sure I could use a hand," he said, returning the smile. "Well, I hope you use more than your damn hand," she said. "What a waste that would be." Experiments I remember exactly the day it started. Sharon and I had married young, she was a virgin that first night in our bed. Of course we had indulged in some heavy petting during our dates, I had had a finger stuck up in there more than once and I had spent literally hours licking her big soft titties while she rubbed my cock through my pants. Just once she had taken my dick out and put her mouth on it, then she rolled down the window and spit my seed out onto the parking lot at the seaside park we went to to neck. We had gotten caught once by the local Cop, too. I was busy sucking on Sharon's nipple like there was no tomorrow and she had her head back moaning, she really liked that. We had gotten pretty comfortable with it being deserted at the little seaside park we went to, so she wasn't too concerned when I had taken her blouse completely off. I had her pressed back onto the seat when suddenly the car was filled with light and the cop was standing there banging on the window. I rolled the window down as Sharon rushed to get her blouse back on. I noticed the flashlight was pointed at her titties and not at me. I also noticed she seemed a little hotter later on that night, but she still wouldn't let me fuck her. Our getting married was one of those things we were "supposed" to do if that makes any sense. We were dating, our families got used to the idea, somehow a date was set and next thing I knew I was standing up there saying "I do" and I wasn't 100% sure why. It was OK, I had a good job and we settled into a small starter house and began getting used to living together. Sex was fun but nothing I would call spectacular. It all seemed fine, the fact is I just didn't know any better. One thing about Sharon, she is tiny. She tipped the scales at 93 pounds but her breasts were a full "C" cup. At barely 19 years old, there wasn't a single thing out of place. She wore her dark hair long and past her shoulders. Her tastes in clothes ran to pullover tops and sweaters, and her skirts were right at the middle of the knee. The other out of the ordinary feature about her was her pussy. She didn't shave it, nobody did back in the early 60's at least that I ever saw. Of course, I had only seen maybe two beavers in my whole life in the flesh. It didn't matter, she had a gob of flesh that stuck out of her and that increased when she got excited. Her clit would grow to the size of the end of my pinkie finger and it had what looked like a little lean-to roof over the top of it. If I fiddled with that very much the top layer of skin would roll right back and it looked just like a tiny little dick sitting there. I was surprised at that the first time I saw it, the only other naked pussy I had ever seen was on a girl named Paula, she had almost nothing there at all, just a pimple sized little bump hidden inside. It was about then that men's magazines started showing women with no panties on so I saw lots of pictures of pussies, there just was none to compare Sharon's to. The first incident was almost an accident, we had pulled into a gas station to fill up. They had two guys on duty, one started the pump, the other washed the headlights and windshield, and they always asked to check the oil and tires. Damn, I sound old now, huh? It was hotter than hell that day, we had a new 1962 Impala that was pretty spiffy, neat bucket seats and 4 speed, all of the toys. Sharon had been fanning herself by flipping her dress up and down, then when we pulled in she coyly tucked the skirt between her legs. Just as the guy went around to her side I reached over on impulse and pulled her skirt up, I happened to know she didn't have any panties on. Fact is, she never did, her Mom was sure they caused diseases so Sharon never wore any either. I had asked her about that, it seems old Doc Barker was their family physician and he had advised them of that. Now that I think about it, the old coot was probably a pervert and liked to look at bare pussies. Fact is, he liked to look at men, too. Sharon and I had to go see the Doc, part of getting the marriage license. He came in, had me pull my dick out, then told me to "milk it out" while he stood there with a little swab. Embarrassed the hell out of me, I asked Sharon what he did to her but she just blushed and didn't want to talk about it. Anyway, flipping Sharon's skirt up was one of those spur of the moment things, like I said, just an impulse. Of course she let out a yip and grabbed at the skirt to pull it back down but not before the kid washing the window got an eyeful of pubic hair and probably some pink, too. He did a doubletake and stopped, finally got his wits back around him and finished up but he never took his eyes off of Sharon. I sat there realizing I had a boner to end all boners. I had Sharon down on the living room floor the instant we got back to the house, she was grunting back at me and moaning. I noticed I seemed to be half again larger than normal, and she seemed to be way more sloppy wet than normal. I think that day she exploded in her first ever major orgasm because afterwards she told me she had never felt anything like that. It was about a week or so later, we were doing our usual shopping on Saturday morning after payday. We had the car full of groceries and were ready to head for home when I happened to notice a clothing shop across the parking lot. On another impulse, I asked Sharon if she would like a new outfit. Of course all men know the answer to that question. So we went in, the place had one area off to the side where they sold shoes, and racks of women's skirts and blouses. The styles were all summer stuff since it was mid April. I wandered over and looked at some of the men's clothes while Sharon went through the racks. All of the skirts were way shorter than anything Sharon owned except for some long floor length outfits that were a bit hippie looking to me. I glanced over at Sharon, she would hold a skirt up to her waist, check the length, then put it back. After an hour of this, I was getting bored. A lady salesclerk was trying to help her, I overheard her say something about this being the style now as I walked up. Sharon looked at me, holding up a pretty blue mini-skirt. "Is this too short?" "It's hard for me to tell, go try it on." Sharon went into the little changing room, she came out a minute later, her hands busy at the sides of her legs like she was trying to pull the skirt lower. It came right to the middle of her thigh which on her meant she only had about six inches of safety margin before some pubic hair would show. A light bulb went off in my head, I grinned and told her she looked great. "Ok, I will take it." Her voice sounded unsure. "Go ahead and wear it honey." I told her. She shot me a sidelong glance, but she put her other clothes in a bag and we went to the counter and paid for it, along with a simple white blouse that she had also picked. "You will need some shoes." I told her. The brown ones she had on just didn't go well, I was serious about that. Sharon shot me another sidelong glance, then she came with me as we walked over to the shoe section. There was an older fellow there, in his 40's. He was showing the beginnings of going bald. He showed Sharon several styles, one pair was a light blue and perfect. "What size are you?" He asked her. Sharon hesitated for a second. "Here, sit down, I will measure you." Sharon sat in the chair as he pulled a little stool up and sat in front of her, then placed a footrest down. He reached down and lifted her foot, setting it on the stool. Reaching behind, he picked up a little foot measuring tool and then he reached down and removed her shoe. Sharon had her knees clamped together so firmly that the guy was finding it awkward. "Relax honey!" I said. I was standing behind the guy, Sharon looked up at me with a puzzled look. I held up my hand and opened and closed the fingers, signalling her to spread her legs a little. She turned bright pink but her lips pursed, she pretended to be looking around. I saw her take a breath, relax, and let the knee of her leg still on the floor fall over a few inches. From where I was standing I could see her pubic hair, and the clerk was sitting down right in front of her. He was looking down at her foot, getting the measurement. "It looks like you are a size...." His voice trailed off as realized. Then he got up rather quickly and went off into the back room to get the shoes. While he was gone I signalled Sharon to open up some more, she was still blushing and shook her head no. I was still in the process of trying to signal her when the clerk returned and sat back down. He reached down and picked up Sharon's foot again, slipping the pretty blue shoe on for her. Sharon looked up at me again, I signalled frantically with two fingers for her to open up. She lifted the leg that was on the stool and turned her instep inwards, leaning forward to look at the shoe. Then she set that foot down on the floor, knees a bit wider than she needed to, and waited. The guy sat there and stared for s few seconds, then realized she was waiting for the other shoe. He reached down and picked up her left foot and set it on the stool. Sharon's right knee had swung outward even more, then she leaned to her right and forward to look at the other shoe. Somehow the guy managed to get the shoe onto her foot, he had to do it by feel because that sure wasn't where he was looking. I stepped sideways so I could see over his shoulder, Sharons pussy was in clear view. She was excited, too, the little mass of flesh over her clit had pulled back exposing the dime sized button. The mass of lips extended nearly as long as her pubic hair, hanging slightly open, completely visible. Even from several feet away I could see it was wet and shiny looking. I saw her upper body shudder, knew she had had a small orgasm. We bought the shoes, on the way home Sharon had my cock out of my pants and damn near sucked the end off of it. I was having one hell of a time trying to keep from running off the road. Once at the house I had her down on the couch with my cock stuffed in her, she felt like she had new muscles down there as her insides rippled at me. Later I realized we had left both car doors standing open, we got a good laugh at that. Sharon became nasty from then on. We were a hit at the gas station, the guys would fall all over themselves to wait on us. Once we pulled in, she shoved her right knee firmly against the door, pulled her left leg up and proceeded to clip her toenails while they washed the windows. It took a long time, too, she sat like that for a solid 15 minutes as everyone, even a few of the customers, came over to take a look. Over the next few months we had lots of adventures, it was fun. But we lived in a small town and people talk so we cooled it a little locally. Sharon still dressed sexy as hell but we quit some of the blatant stuff. I had these two buds, Bob was a short and cocky little guy, Dick was taller and took streaks of being shy. Once we were all sitting out in our yard drinking beer and Sharon came out in a two piece suit that in today's world would look like what a nun would wear but back then it was outrageous. Bob of course stared and did everything except step on his tongue, Dick blushed and studied the trees mostly. We all got a little bombed, as it started to cool down in the afternoon we went inside. Sharon changed into a blouse and skirt much to Bob's dismay. I got out some cards and we began playing some penny poker. It didn't take long and Sharon had most of the pennies, card games went that way with her for some reason. Bob wanted to play some more, tried to borrow from me, I told him no way. The idea of the game was to break all the other players. Dick sat there with just a few pennies left, I knew he was done in just a hand or two anyway. I wasn't surprised when he excused himself and left, he had to work the next day. So Bob and I sat there, Bob was muttering, he was a cocky little guy and just hated to lose at anything. He tried to offer a marker, Sharon laughed at him, told him no. "Well, what then?" "Next hand is for your shirt." She looked him right in the eye, then grinned at me. "OK." He said, no hesitation. It was only a couple of hands and Sharon had him down to his shorts and socks. I became almost a third wheel, the competition between the two of them was getting fierce. Then things changed, Bob won several hands in a row, not only got his pants and his shirt back but more than half of Sharon's pile. I was holding my own pretty much dead hand when Bob's 3 Queens beat Sharon's 3 nine's, the whole pile went to his side. "Shit!" Sharon exclaimed, throwing her cards down. "Wanna play for YOUR shirt?" Bob gave her a big shiteating grin. Sharon looked at him, then at me, a stubborn expression on her face. "Sure." Bob dealt the cards, Sharon had 2 pair, he had 3 2's, I just folded. She looked at me, I shrugged. I knew all she had on was the blouse and the skirt and some shoes. Sharon just shrugged the blouse back off her shoulders. "Deal!" she barked, as Bob stared at her big bare breasts. I was a little curious as to why she chose the blouse first, but I also noticed her nipples were like needles. The shoes went next when she drew nothing and got no help from the draw. I just folded and lost my few pennies. The next hand was dealt. I picked up my hand, I had 3 Kings. I took 2 and drew the 4th King. Bob was grinning, part of why he lost so much, hell, his face always gave him away. Sharon was stuck, she had to play what she had. She laid down a pair of Aces, Bob laid down a flush, I threw in my hand. Sharon blushed. It was one thing to flash in front of strangers but quite another in front of someone she knew. Then she stood up, undid the catch at her waist and let the skirt drop. "God." Bob stared at her. Sharon reached for her skirt to put it back on. "One more hand?" Bob said. "For what?" "High card, I win, you stay like that all night. You win, you get the whole stack." Hell, there was maybe $5.00 in pennies there, if that. "Deal." Sharon said. Bob shuffled, handed the deck to me to cut. I handed it back, he turned up a seven. Sharon laughed, reached for the deck. Her face flushed when she showed the 4 of spades. So the rest of the night she stayed completely nude, she even seemed to get used to it. Bob never did, I finally herded him out the door at 3 in the morning. He had spent the entire evening leaning this way and that, trying to get better looks at Sharon's pussy. No way could she hide her big breasts, she didn't even try. But she for some reason was mostly keeping her legs together. I asked her about that later on as we lay wrapped up in each other. "I just didn't...I mean, we KNOW him!" "What the heck, you let lots of guys look at you." I was rubbing away at her button as I said that, she was squirming around nicely and gasping. "Did you want him..to see me?" she was really starting to squirm now. "Yea, that would be hot!" I told her, sliding up on top and pressing myself inside. Bob was back over at our house the next night, I would have bet my tiny bank account on that. He had a 12 pack of beer as an excuse. We had just finished dinner so Sharon was busy in the kitchen washing dishes and putting things away, Bob and I cracked a couple of brews and plopped down on the beanbag chairs we had. Those we all the rage at the time. We were watching some silly game show on TV. Sharon came out, Bob hopped up and got her a beer, she sat down on the couch across from us. She had on a pair of crummy blue jeans and a heavy yellow T-shirt. We all just sucked on our brews and watched the game show, trying to figure out the answers before the contestants did. Finally the show was over, some western came on. Bob piped up with, "Wanna play cards?" Hell, I knew what he wanted, so I decided to fuck with him a bit. "Naw, let's go work on the car." I had a hot rod out in my garage, it was maybe 10% done. So reluctantly we went out to the shop, I gave Sharon a wink first. She grinned at me. Bob and I fiddled around for maybe a half hour or so, then I asked him to run in and grab a couple of cold ones. He headed for the house, I figured Sharon would have something going on but I didn't know what. Glancing out the window, I saw the lights in the bedroom come on, so I stepped out the side door and walked over to the window. I damn near ran over Bob, he was standing behind our unkempt hedge watching Sharon through the gap in the curtains. She had just pulled the T-shirt over her head as I got there. "Hey, ain't no beer out here, asshole." I told him. "Jesus she has nice tits!" he said, ignoring me. Just then Sharon slid the jeans down her hips and stepped out of them, she didn't have anything else on, but then she never did. She was standing sideways to the window, then she turned. I heard Bob's quick intake of breath as her full black bush came into view. We watched as she went to the closet, selected a thin robe that came to halfway down her thighs and pulled it on. Then the light went out as she went back into the living room. Bob and I were back inside in a flash, he took the beanbag straight across from Sharon. I got the one I always used, in front of the TV. Sharon was sitting in her beanbag, on my left. "How is the car coming?" She absentmindedly scratched her knee. "Oh, pretty good." I answered. We had pretty much just looked at it, that was what we normally did anyway. She continued to move her hand on her left knee, then she wiggled around, ending up with her right leg stretched out pointed more my way. The damn soft nightgown hung down and draped right over her crotch, I could see the very bottom of her butt cheeks. Bob was stone silent, staring, actually leaning forward a bit. It was funny in a way. "So how much work is there left to do?" she asked, still doing that maddening rubbing on her left knee. "Quite a bit, we have the roll cage set but need to weld it in." I was staring now too, wondering how far she would go. She nodded, rubbed some more, her left knee dropped over a few inches. The nightgown still covered her crotch. "We can weld it up this weekend!" Bob piped up with, searching for something to say. His voice seemed to catch in his throat. "Sure." I answered. Sharon rubbed some more, maddening to watch. She was now sitting leaned back, her right leg stretched out, her left knee leaned against the beanbag chair. All that was between us was that wisp of cloth hanging down, barely covering her. We all fell silent, I knew what she was going to do. She yawned, then reached across her stomach and rubbed her forearm back and forth. That did it, the material lifted up, exposing her completely. She just sat there and smiled. Bob was now leaning way forward, I guess I was too. The flickering light from the TV screen shined directly on her. I couldn't stand it, Bob or no Bob I stood up, walked over to her, undoing my jeans as I did. She just looked at me, her expression was pure lust. I shoved myself inside her and we thrust at each other, finally ending up on the floor. As I was coming down, I realized that Bob had freed himself and was stroking his 7" erection furiously. Sharon and I lay there and watched as he finally blasted off. That was fun, Sharon and I talked about it afterwards, agreeing that showing off was one thing but we would still keep sex to just us. Bob was around a lot after that, we actually got some work done on the old hot rod, too. All the pretense was gone, Sharon often ran around nude or in just a nightie, and she delighted in getting us all fussed up. Several times we sat and watched as she masturbated, sometimes she sat and watched us. Experiments It became some kind of a crazy threesome without any actual sex between any of us except for Sharon and I. Dick even came by a few times, until one night Sharon came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, I swear she scared him so bad he never dropped by after that. I found that to be odd but what the hell. Also several times I came home after my shift at work to find Bob in my garage working on the old car, it was getting pretty close to done. I didn't even think anything of that, either. Then one day one of the machines at my shop proceeded to just blow up, part of my job was to fix it and I knew it was going to be a long day. I called Sharon to let her know, it took several rings for her to answer, and she sounded out of breath. I asked her where she was, she told me she was outside. I explained the problem, and that it might be midnight before I got home. "Ok, Honey. See you when you get home!" I hung up and started on the machine. As it turned out, a bearing on one end of one of the big drive rollers had gone out, instead of having to tear down the whole frame it was four bolts on the end and we had the piece in stock. I had the machine back online in 45 minutes. I got home 30 minutes before I would have normally, I didn't think to call Sharon. Bob's car was pulled up beside my little shop, I thought nothing of it, it usually was when I got home. I went inside the shop, noticed that he had the top end of the engine set in place, almost ready to start. I headed for the house when I got a funny feeling, so I stepped over by the living room window. I was late Summer, the window was open a crack to let air in. "Ummm, that's so good." I heard Sharon say. Peeking in, I could see just the top of the back of her head, she was lying in one of the beanbag chairs. I saw no sign of Bob at all. "Is she masturbating?" I thought. I walked around to the other side of the house, peeked in the other window and got a shock. Bob had his face buried in her crotch, lapping away for all he was worth. He was naked, so was Sharon. Her legs were drawn up and spread wide to give him full access. I walked around to the front door, opened it and walked in. Well, let's just say all hell broke loose. I whipped Bob's ass from inside the house to the outside, across the scrubby patches of grass that pretended to be our lawn. It was probably a good thing that we lived a ways out in the country because I can just imagine what any neighbors might think. Bob put up a struggle of course, but I had a good 40 pounds on him and he had that major disadvantage of being naked as a Jaybird. He finally made it to his car, I went in and grabbed his clothes and threw them in the passenger window just as his right rear tire was digging a furrow in my yard. Then Sharon and I had a screaming fight, she finally grabbed some things and left. I guess she realized I was dangerous right then. But it just wasn't in me to hit her or anything. I proceeded to sit at home alone and get drunk to the point of not remembering doing it the next morning. It was a full three days later before Sharon called. "Are you all right?" was the first words out of her mouth. "No, I'm NOT!" I yelled into the phone, hanging up. Then I sat and cried. She didn't call any more after that. It was around six months later when the papers arrived from her lawyer, the surprise was she didn't ask for anything. I had already boxed up everything that was hers, sent it to her mother's house. I realized a lot of it was my fault. Silly little games we played, they got out of control. Out of control to the point where she cheated. I should have seen it coming. I know I was a part of it, I know I was the cause. Still, I could not handle that. I didn't handle it, in fact. Not Bob, not my friend. Stupid silly little games, no need or reason. The happy times destroyed, my race car, fun for me, sits rusting in my garage. There is nothing left. Now I go to work, I come home. I eat and sleep, and I go to work again. That's all I do. That's all I ever do. Experiments Carrie watched as the short black girl weaved her way through the press of bodies and sat primly at the bar. She wasn't dressed in any of the outrageous stuff that all the other women were trying to pull off. On the contrary, she was clad in a simple dark-blue pair of jeans, and a black low-cut top, emphasizing her curvy shape. She turned her head and looked straight at Carrie, not really seeing her, and Carrie admired the long straight fall of her jet-black hair. She was mixed with something, Carrie mused, as she took a seat beside her. A little white maybe? Some Indian? The black girl peered at her over the rim of her drink, her large dark eyes questioning. "Hi. I've never seen you in here before," Carrie murmured, leaning into her space, and instead of leaning back, like most people did with women of Carrie's size, the little thing simply put down her cup and the smooth mahogany-toned surface of the bar (just a little darker than her skin) and smiled a little. "No. This is my first time in a bar like this," she replied, her smile getting deeper, and Carrie could smell the liquor mixed with mint on her breath. Carrie ran a hand through her own choppy russet hair. "Really," Carrie said, a little doubtfully. "You just...walked in a lesbian bar all by your lonesome." Carie watched as she nodded, the ends of her dark hair brushing against her neck. "So you're not a lesbian, then." "No," came the reply, and there was a deep, slow sip. "I think not." "That's too bad," Carrie said flippantly, although it was really too bad. "I would totally be hitting on you right now, just for the record." She felt the weight of those dark eyes flick back to her, and there was another slow smile, a flash of white against brown full lips. "Well. Let's just pretend I am. Just for the record." Carrie stared at her, and she held the stare, which was very unusual because Carrie was using the Piercing Stare. Carrie sighed a little, giving up, and put out her hand to be shook. "Carrie. And you are?" A small dark hard was pressed into hers, and she could feel the soft pad of the thumb rubbing slowly against her knuckles. Carrie suddenly felt a little overwhelmed, which was a feeling she discovered she both hated and loved. "Kay. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure." **** "What," Kay murmured as Carrie pressed her against the heavy wood of the apartment door, "is it that you do?" Carrie licked Kay's lips slowly and then kissed her, testing with her tongue and then going deeper, while trying to remember what it was she did as a career. Kay linked her hands behind Carrie's neck, and kissed back, arching up into her body and moaning a little. Carrie still felt overwhelmed. "I'm a lawyer," Carrie recalled, a little faintly, and pressed her thigh into Kay's crotch. Kay shivered. "And you haven't done this before. So I'm just an experiment?" "I suppose so," Kay replied, brushing her fingertips under the edge of Carrie's shirt. "And I'm not to you? Don't get all self-righteous on me, now." Carrie was taken aback. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that, not in court, and certainly not before taking someone to bed...and she sort of liked it. She backed away, dragging Kay along with her and trying to continue kissing her at the same time. Kay followed with her mouth and tongue eagerly, and they bumped their way past the massively ugly sofa that Carrie's last girlfriend had refused to take with her when she moved out, past the little shelf of figurines that her mother insisted on giving her (one every year, fuck), and into the bedroom. She pushed Kay down on the neatly made bed and she crawled backwards, stopping when her black hair rested against the pillows. Carrie knelt over her, and looked down at her, amazed at the amused and open look on her heart-shaped face. She bent over and kissed her again. "What do you want to try, then?" Carrie whispered in her ear, and Kay pressed up languidly, like a cat, and Carrie went a little crazy. "I don't know. You're the expert. Anything, I guess." "You're a pretty open person," Carrie pointed out as she pulled the button on her jeans and slid them off, revealing an entirely sensible pair of Hanes. She pulled off her own shirt and pants, rocking on her knees, and then worked on the small buttons on the black blouse, parting it. "We can try something simple then, this time around." Kay gave a little laugh, and then sighed as Carrie pressed a palm against her stomach and slid it down. Carrie slipped her fingers past the waistband of her underwear, and into the simmering heat of her sex. "God," Kay breathed out, starting to whimper a little as Carrie's finger's pressed in and out; she turned her head to the side, her face covered by the soft dark strands. Carrie slipped her tongue along the curve of her ear, and she used her other hand to turn her head and kiss her again. Kay bucked against her palm, and Carrie could feel the hardening nipples pressing against her own chest. Carrie couldn't find enough hands. As it was, she removed her hand from Kay's crotch (and got a disappointed groan) and pulled off the rest of their underwear quickly. She straddled Kay again, scissoring against her and feeling the damp heat pressing against her own. Kay twisted up her pelvis a little, the short coarse hairs stroking against Carrie's bare mound, and Carrie actually felt faint with want. "I don't believe you've never done this before," Carrie strangled out, reaching down and gathering the dark mounds in her pale hands. She stroked her thumbs against the erect nubs and Kay's whole body twitched in response. Carrie watched as her mouth fell open, and Kay's hands covered her own, pressing in harder, squeezing more, grinding against each other harder and faster, the short nails of Kay's fingers pressing into the skin on Carrie's hands. "I haven't done it before, no. But no-one ever stopped me from thinking about it." Carrie didn't know how Kay managed to gasp out a full sentence like that, but it was extremely erotic to hear her do it. She could feel one of Kay's legs slide upward along her thigh, until it rested on her back, and she felt Kay's sweaty thigh flex, pressing their slick bodies even closer together. She felt the little hands move from her own and rest on her shoulders, pulling down a little. Kay latched her mouth on the side of Carrie's neck, and started to suck. "Noooooo," Carrie gave out, trying to pull away. "Not there. Just...I have to be in court tomorrow." Without skipping a beat, Kay ducked her head a little lower, and settled for sucking on the collarbone. Carrie was stuck contemplating that this was quite possibly the best sex she ever had. She managed to slip a hand between them, inserting a finger and then another, and listening to Kay keen beneath her. Kay shut her eyes, suddenly panting quickly, and Carrie pressed her fingers in, curling them at the knuckle and stroking, and using her thumb to massage the swollen clit and Kay actually bit her on her collarbone and clawed at her back, and Carrie was just a little shocked to feel herself going into spasms, as Kay shuddered beneath her, crying out. What the hell. Kay hadn't even touched her like that and she came. Just by watching Kay, she came. She unstraddled Kay and lay a little gingerly on her back, still trembling a little as Kay tried to breathe deeply beside her. "That was a great experiment," Kay commented softly as soon as she settled her breathing, and Carrie smiled a little at the ceiling. She turned on her side and settled a palm on Kay's dark stomach, rubbing it up and down slowly. "I suppose that's the only experiment you'll need, right?" "Wrong. I like experiments. And I think there's more to find out, right?" Carrie smiled at her. She was absolutely right. Experiments It had been years since her first experiments, since she'd met him in the park down the avenue from her place, in daylight, in plenitude. He'd always been rather rakish with blue eyes and wanton smile. Much prone to teasing her with the possibility of his presence and her definite desire for something real to coalesce. Ready to leave her dry as dirt, alone, and wanting, but not sure what water would feel like, or in what form it was craved. She hadn't known he was one of the hypotheses until much later, but it fit like water in the glass that held it. Charms, he brought an arsenal, fortified with intellect and looks. And words, and hints, and promises. Peripatetic, obtuse, and bringing thoughts of the moores and drizzle to the scorched earth of the July playground, littered with grass and hopeful weeds, dog leavings, public peregrinations. Once at dinner, in a seen and be seen place, "You are the most beautiful woman here, and the best part, that you don't know this." Smile. Feigned liking for the raw beef in paper-thin slices that she herself devoured. More salt of the earth than that pretense. She took the check, chastized. Years. Occasional calls and visits. Pickled sweet jalapenos and that insufferable grin. The dozen-years intimations of a possible tryst, revelation of a sister soul, small one, companioning in brief sweat with the larger moon or planet, barreling out of orbit, long in returning. The offers intrigued her, always had, like a chip of paint to peel, but eyes there to see the wanton demolition, preventing alleviation of the itch. As a concept, as energy-matched pairs, as Calder-like shapes floating in space, separated by balance and curves, valences and gravity, pairing up or swinging away with the vagaries of moon and season. She still wanted. She became uniquely grounded again, in sex, in carnal needs, solitarily satisfied, taking forms she was uncertain were not his desire. Blood circulating and the inexorable feel of its passing. After too long disappointed by a careless or selfish lover, a small boy in the clothes of a man, she was verging on full bloom once again, and remembered his grin, and reached for him. She knew they scened in the basement of his townhouse, quaint and practical, private and perverse, alone or as a pair, per their own accords and treaties. Open in their orbits to taste that first spice with others then return both lovers to each others trajectories. She felt odd, contacting him on the summer's long road. The quick reply, the allegation of return in September, so far away. "She is here... could I meet her without you? Or rather, before you return and we can convene as all?" Then several intervening thoughts and the message "I prefer you would be here. Perhaps best if we do this all together." Perhaps, in the all together... She had been the third, and taken to it as a fish to water. Feeling the apex from between two bodies in love, as a journalistic observer, in the middle but not taking a part, instead coming apart, stitch by stitch in the intervening seams, their concern, neither of them her own. When it came, his reply was "you should meet, you are both people I admire, with places in my heart and esteem," oddly victorian and certainly bereft of contact information, yet flattering to the core. Once again, that teasing, that promise of the possible or present... In her dreams, heated and relaxed, she arrives. They greet her at the door. It is dark. It is night. There are candles around the inside. There is comfort in soft music, assuaging their mutually savage intentions that come with divergent tactics. She takes the proferred drink, symbolic as Persephone and the seeds. They make small talk on the sectional, throats gleaming in the light of flame. She likes R. Finds an electricity growing between them that is similar to his, but different, and more intoxicating in combination. She has a moment aside with herself, shutting out the candlelight, the music, their obvious eddies of energies. Will this happen? As with other situations, ones that produced nothing, if this works out, if this does not, she does not think she can stand the rejection—or would it be solely an interruption? As with other situations, she is unsure she could handle the acceptance, if it comes. R talks of their trip to New Orleans and recounts a reverie of a time when two bodies seeking pleasure annexed her to their bed. She makes full eye contact and says "You are away from us now. You must be present." She stammers "So sorry, yes, you are reminding me of other... situations" or should she say "scenes"? Nothing she knows was so deliberate. He captures her gaze and says "full attention is required. It is an absolute." The silence that follows proves this is their truth. Slowly, the glasses are abandoned on the low table. He leads the women down, down to the basement. Where light is restricted and walls and sound are shielded by the neutral earth. Insulated, quiet, darker than the upper house, and fully inexorable. She's not sure if the intention to move latitudes was voiced or simply intimated. She has a certain inkling of what awaits the descent. He leads ahead of R and she followed, with R's hand clasped in her own; cool, relaxed, at times assuringly gripping. The hand is soft, dry, confident: it applies its fingers to her palm teasingly, lasciviously, a promise and a threat. She barely has time to absorb the surrounds before he holds a blindfold to her eyes, not yet applying, tightening or tying, but saying with low, slow, drawling surety, "I know you love to watch. I also know it can embarrass you to see. And you are here in part to elate you and simply be in your sensations. This is a gift, if you will consent." And she leans into the fabric on her eyes. And he asks, "How should our guest be best adorned?" "Naked," comes R's breathless reply. And the room darkens and spins around her.