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Proof of Performance

By: OliviaLocke



I was at wits end. My coach, Ashley, was too, pacing the hardwood floor around us, deep in thought.

The dance competition was only two months away and my new partner, Brendan, nice guy though he was, treated me like I was made of glass. In the middle of a lift, his grip, not placed at my centre of balance, had caused me to lean over too far. I'd fallen. Nothing broke or sprained, but he'd shattered my trust in him, this fall just one more in a series, all for the same reason.

I sat on that dusty floor, wondered if he could ever be that reliable partner I craved. I knew, I could see it on his face, he was sorry. But his performance was driving a wedge between us.

"I know you two can do this," said Ashley. "But, somehow, you need to prove to me, and yourselves, that you can."

She walked away. She was getting me a drink—water. I needed something stronger. Brendan just stood, hovering over me, silent.

She returned, handed me a glass. "Take a few minutes," she said.

She turned to him and he braced, anticipating an assault. I'd heard the words she'd often used, but never to a partner of mine. She would berate and scold. Rarely did that do any good.

Instead, she said, "Go have a seat somewhere. Outside."

"I'm fine," he said. "Really."

"No, you're not. Go. I'll talk to you in a minute."

He was hurting inside. He'd failed me and disappointed himself. He left us, not challenging her, defeated. Somehow, that bothered me too.

I extended my arm expecting Ashley to help me up. Instead, she sat facing me.

"I know what's wrong," she said. "I saw it in his eyes when he lifted you, just now."

I looked at her, puzzled. The gym door closed.

"He's afraid of you," she said.

Afraid? I let myself fall back on the hardwood not caring that my leggings and top would get dirty and stared at the ironwork ceiling. I was tired and sore and frustrated. My partner wasn't dependable and my coach had lost her mind. "You're going to give me a quick course in your convoluted logic, right?" I said. "Heavens knows, I need it."

She nodded, serious. She'd lost that playfulness she always had when I was being dense. Instead, she glanced away, distracted, and I knew she was building up to tell me that, after the competition, I should find a new partner.

Too bad, I liked him, as a person. More now, suddenly. I felt sad for him. And me.

"Cara," she said, still dead serious, scaring me now because she never stayed serious for more than a second, "Give me a chance to fix this."

"Just so you can prove it to yourself?" I was losing my patience with her. I shook my head quickly. "Sorry, you know what it's been like."

"Which is why it must stop."

By dumping Brendan? My frustration turned to panic. Good male partners were impossible to find. Caring partners even harder.

"Go ahead," I said. "Let's hear it."

"It's not what I'll say, it's what he'll do."

Do? So we weren't being separated. "You've seen how well that works," I said.

She shook her head. "It's not about dancing. This is different. And you're not to say a word about it. Not one."

"What am I supposed to do, stare it out of him? He's shy. All I'll do is embarrass him." Poor guy.

"It's more an attitude change."

"His, right?"

"Yes, his. But yours first."

"I see."

"Promise me you'll take this professionally, coach to student, and not personally."

I didn't like the sounds of that. What was I doing wrong?

Then she explained her logic to me. All of it, in detail, while I bit my tongue. She was, I decided, mad, but in a devious and—I hated to admit—practical way. Some parts even made her blush, like she was personally involved somehow. But, she was our coach.

I stayed on the floor a long time after she'd left me to go talk to Brendan. What she'd said made sense, logically. Too much sense. And, looking back at our dancing, I knew she was right.

We, Brendan and I, should have worked this out months ago, not have to be told because it was now obvious to anyone watching that we'd messed up. And it was my duty to initiate the change. I had failed him more than he had failed me. His actions were symptoms; mine, the root cause.

I would do it. I had too. If I wanted to continue dancing, I'd no other choice. Without Brendan, I'd miss this year's competition for sure. And likely the next. Retirement was too kind a word for being forced to abandon something you loved.

He, however, could find another partner the second word got out he was available. I didn't know if I could bear seeing that unfold while I stood aside. In a weird way, this was getting personal for me too. I had much to atone for.

The gym door opened, I heard it. Brendan would come inside and we would have our, not just his, attitude adjustment.

He came and stood above me. I could see in his face that she'd been completely right. Something inside me gave way. He was too nice a guy, too considerate for this sport. Yet he persisted for the same reasons I did. I felt for him and our plight.

I would fix it, for us.

"What did Ashley tell you?" I said.

He shrugged. "That I should touch you and you'd let me."

"Where?"

He glanced away, reddened. "Everywhere."

"Something you've wanted to do since we met." This was not a question.

He nodded.

That desire had been his undoing. If he hadn't cared for me, romantically, he wouldn't have been so reluctant to hold me where he should have while dancing. He was afraid to offend me, to be taken to task for it, admonished and denigrated. Humiliated. Now that I knew he liked me, it all made sense.

Reciprocating, however, might be a different story. I wasn't sure I liked him, that way. I just liked him, as a person.

"Go ahead," I said, steeling myself for what was to come. "Touch all you want."

He knelt beside me, looked over me. This would only take a few minutes. I closed my eyes, turned all my emotions off. This was just dance practice, another routine to remember and make look easy but wasn't. I'd survive.

A cold shiver crawled up my backbone, right to my neck. Dammit! There was no way my reluctance wouldn't escape his notice. He'd be keenly aware of my feelings, know I'd gone icy on him just to get through it. Sure, he'd not worry about inadvertently touching me, but the spark that passed between us, the magic that would make our dancing rise above the competition's would never see the light of day.

I opened my eyes. "Brendan," I said.

"Yes."

He was nervous, apprehensive, anxious. I had to take the lead in this pas de deux. I had to be present, not just a living doll to grope.

"Listen, I'm not going to kill you. Or stop you. I want you to do this. I don't want you to be on guard all the time, worried. Right now, here, I'm not your dance partner. I'm not being coached and neither are you. Got it?"

He nodded.

"We're all alone somewhere." I tucked my hands behind my head. "I'm your girlfriend. And as your special girl, I need to be touched to make me even more special." His hands didn't budge. I took one and placed it on my breast and held it there. "I know, I'm female. I have nice spots, curves, that need attention. Nothing's off limits. I'm yours, everywhere." I was about to say please. Really. Where was this coming from? Had I denied my own feelings for him? Had I been cold and heartless all along thus making him more apprehensive? And had my body made a decision on its own to allow him free rein? At least he knew his own mind. Shame on me for ignoring mine. I separated my legs. "Especially down there."

He fondled my breast through my stretch top and bra, but tentatively, still unsure of my motives, my acceptance. But I had accepted him. My taut nipples proof. I was getting turned on, asking to be touched so much more powerful than acceding to someone else's wishes. I craved more.

"I have two of those," I said. "And a girlfriend is not truly satisfied until both have been teased to aching." I stretch my arms high above my head and closed my eyes. "Don't disappoint me, Brendan. Don't leave any part of me untouched." I opened my eyes, glared. "Make yourself hard."

He looked at me, rock still, hesitant.

I took his hand and jammed it between my legs. "Turn me on," I said. He pressed in and I gasped. He froze. I cupped his fingers down my mound. "Stay," I said. I took his index finger and circled the tip over my clit, showing him where and how. This was far better than touching myself. "Don't stop until I come." I stretched out again, legs wide apart, hands well away from his. His caress electrified me. I would come. "Don't stop," I said, panting. "Brendan, never stop."

He was getting it now, not afraid, driving up my need, making me perform. If Ashley thought a bit of touching would make him comfortable with my body, making me come would assure it.

Ashley re-entered, the gym door closing softly. Brendan looked up.

"Don't even think of stopping," I said. I slipped my hand between his legs, felt the hard rope of his cock. "You don't seem to mind she's here," I said.

His free hand found a nipple, pinched it, rolled it between strong fingers, sent a bolt of electricity into my clit. "I don't mind Ashley," he said. "After all, she started this. And she needs proof we're doing it."

Oddly, the fact she was there didn't bother me either. Her entrance had fuelled my need. I tensed, legs trembling, muscles rock hard, mouth open for air, panting. I wanted Ashley to see me break, see Brendan overcome his fear, see us connect intimately and completely, proof we'd not only followed her instruction but that we could be the successful dance team she dreamed of.

"Faster," I pleaded.

"No," he said. "I like seeing you like this. I like showing you off."

A powerful surge tingled through my sex. I was going to explode in Ashley's presence. Under Brendan's fingers. Now.

I came, writhing and moaning, my spasms rolling up my body one after the other, proving that I was not made out of glass. But handled the right way, I would break, deliciously. But with an audience?

I smiled up at him, pulled his face to mine and kissed him until I had to break the kiss to breathe. "You like doing that to me, with her here?" I said. His grin was the only answer I needed. "I suppose you'll want more."

He didn't answer, just looked into my eyes, mouthed, "Yes."

"Then I'm all yours," I said. "For real. Girlfriend. Lover." Exhibitionist?

He smiled and nodded.

I sat up, still shaky. I took both his hands in mine. "Later, after practice..." I glanced to his still prominent bulge, "...if you can move properly with that thing between your legs, I'll see what I can do for you." My heart, just settling, began to race again. I wanted to see him come. I glanced to Ashley. I wanted to make him spurt with her standing next to us.

"Well," said Ashley, walking towards us, "I guess that's over with."

"Uh-uh," I said. "It's just beginning."

Proof of Performance Pt. 02



Brendan and I practiced. Really practiced. Joyfully. Ethereal, at times. I've never felt so fulfilled, so freed from gravity, so happy.

For the first time, I felt the joy of our partnership and got the sense that our dance potential had no limits. But, while Ashley would be glad we'd finally come together, she'd be acutely aware that she had no hope of experiencing this for herself.

She'd been a gifted dancer. But an accident, a fall resulting in broken ribs, had forced her withdrawal just before the national championships three years ago. Her partner, desperate to continue dancing no matter what, quickly found another girl. Poor Ashley. She slowly withdrew from the dance scene, heartbroken, disappointed and without hope.

I'd spent many nights consoling her, telling her that it wasn't the end of the world, finally convincing her to teaching dance with me as her first student. At first, she resisted, but when cute new partner-material—Brendan—showed up, she pulled herself together. Now, with Brendan and me fully committed, conflicting emotions were bound to surface. I invited her, and Brendan, to my apartment for dinner in hopes of assuaging any resentment she might have. I wanted her as an integral part of a team, our team, so we would dance together, the three of us as one.

I ordered out. Chinese. The food would arrive within thirty minutes. I poured Brendan a glass of wine and one for me. Ashley stopped at the post office on the way and would be a few minutes.

I stared at this new man who happened to be my dance partner. It was a bit awkward. A lot had happened in a few hours. I didn't quite know how to proceed. It had been a while since I'd been in a relationship. This one seemed to begin so differently, yet magically. I remember thinking, near the point of orgasm, that for the first time the cosmos had aligned for me, and us. That surge of energy had pushed me up so fast my head spun. Yet, orgasm didn't come. It just hovered there, a second away, tearing my body apart. Heaven and hell. When it did come, it erupted so freely, so completely, the effects, the ache, still lingered.

"Earlier," I said, "you mentioned you liked showing me off. What did you mean by that?"

He drank, then said, "I'm the lead dancer. It's my job."

"But we weren't dancing."

"Weren't we?"

"And when I asked you to go faster you said—"

"That I like seeing you like this." He smiled. "Actually, I loved it."

"Explain." 

He shrugged. "Why rush?"

But that's all I wanted to do. "Why wait?"

He closed in, his glass nearly touching mine, eyes definitely touching mine. "You were beautiful then—not that you aren't always. But at that moment, I wanted to—"

"See me go to pieces?"

He shook his head. "You seemed to enjoy that particular moment. No cares, right? Just you and my fingers. I didn't think you'd mind a few more minutes. You might even be moved to beg."

"Did my predicament make you hard?"

"I was already hard."

"Harder?"

He smiled. "Maybe."

"What if I had begged?" What if I begged him to touch me now? I was contemplating just that.

He leaned in and kissed me, then pulled away just a bit. "I don't know. It depended on how it affected me."

Certainly, it affected me. "Is talking about it turning you on?" I said.

"Yes."

The buzzer rang. I ran to it, pushed the intercom button. "Yes?"

"It's Ashley," she said from the lobby.

I pushed the unlock button. "It's open."

I turned to Brendan. "Would you come for me before you go? You owe me that." As if any man would refuse an orgasm.

"With pleasure."

"With Ashley here?"

Ashley knocked and I let her in. And the buzzer went again. Our food had arrived. I send Brendan down for it, slipping some bills into his hand. "Think about it," I whispered.

"Wine?" I said to Ashley, after Brendan had gone.

She laughed. "I'm not sure I need anything after this afternoon. I mean..." She looked away.

I poured her a glass. "Tell me."

"You know what I saw."

I wonder what I would have done in her place. Silly, I do know. I would have snuck back to watch. "He did a good job with me."

"So it didn't bother you?" she said.

"Bother, no."

"Affect?"

I shrugged. "Yes. You?"

No answer.

"I see," I said.

"I think you see some of it. But not all."

"Oh?"

"It's hard to explain," she said.

"Would it help if you repeated the performance."

She looked puzzled. "I wasn't the one performing," she said.

"I know, I was. But Brendan missed out. And a man needs his."

She looked away, drank, looked me straight in the eye. "I'm not sure... I'm not sure what I want. What would he think?"

So she's considering it. "Tell you what, all you have to do is sit there."

She just stared at me.

"Come on, you can't tell me you don't want to see him come? I know I do." She stayed silent. But I could see the wheels turning. "I promised him."

"That I'd stay?" said Ashley. "Or watch?"

Brendan entered, four heavy paper bags of food in hand. "Dinner's here."

We ate in silence, nearly. We all needed sustenance. Dancing eats calories. Anticipation does too. But nothing was said of what we might do afterwards and it was driving me crazy.

Out of the blue, Brendan said, "Okay, I will."

"Okay, I will what?" I said. But I knew what, I just wanted to be sure.

Ashley stopped eating and stared at me, then him. I refilled her wine glass. She took it and drank half. It looked like a yes all around.

"Ashley?" I said.

"You win, I'll stay."

"Brendan?" After all, it was his cock and balls that would be exposed, his orgasm that Ashley would witness. I had an idea and faced Brendan. "You know how you said you liked seeing me like that. Well, what if I did that to you?"

"Like how?" said Ashley.

I faced her. "Begging to come." Her mouth opened. So did his. I looked into his eyes. "What would you promise me, if I took my time—lots of time? So long you couldn't stand it?"

He glanced to Ashley, said to me, very softly, "Anything."

I faced her.

She took a long, deep breath. "You won't even know I'm here."

I laughed. "Of course we'll know; that's the whole point."

With the dishwasher purring away and Brendan and Ashley standing around like they didn't know what to do, I had to do something or the moment would be lost. I couldn't let that happen. I wanted to see Brendan in the throes of an orgasm. But I wanted him to really, really, want it, beg and plead, promise anything and mean it.

I faced Ashley. "Should I take my clothes off?"

I wouldn't ask her too. I'd give her the choice. But I knew Brendan would love to see me naked. After all, even though he'd touched me intimately this afternoon, I'd been fully clothed. As far as Ashley went, I didn't mind being naked in front of her. We'd shared dressing rooms many times, both while she danced and after. She knew what I looked like. But, I didn't know what about watching us earlier had piqued her interest.

So I asked. "Is it just that you like to watch?"

She froze, silent, stared right at me, said, "This afternoon, after you'd...when you began practicing again...you awakened something in me that's been missing from my life a long time. For the first time I realized my place is not on the dance floor. You two were mesmerizing. It reminded me of what happened..."

She'd glanced to Brendan. Maybe this was too personal for his ears.

"Brendan, give us a few minutes."

Ashley shook her head, held his arm. "No. We're a team. We should act like one. Stay."

"If you want," he said.

I think that's just what she wanted, personal or not. There would be no secrets between us. "So what happened?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, this roommate I had in university would sneak boys in, late at night. She knew I was asleep in my bed, right across from hers. The guys didn't care, so long as they got what they wanted. If they asked, she said I slept too soundly to be a problem. But I wasn't asleep."

"Oh." Brendan was all ears too. "Go on," I said."

"At first I tried to block them out. After a while I turned to watch. But in the dark, I couldn't see much. It was kind of frustrating, knowing I was always missing something like that. Then one night my roommate left a small light on."

"She'd caught on."

Ashley nodded. "She placed it in such a way that my bed was in the shadows—so I could see without being seen."

"She wanted that."

"Yes. After a while, I'd...I'd make myself come." She glanced to Brendan, blushed.

I dropped one hand to him, pressed against his zipper. Affected for sure.

"My roommate caught on," said Ashley. She looked away, then locked her eyes on me. "One night, after she'd send her boy home, she came to me, push down the covers and felt my underwear to prove to herself I had."

"You let her touch you?"

Ashley reddened even more. "I didn't think it was fair to make her check through underwear."

She wanted her roommate to be sure. "So you let her pull them down."

Ashley shook her head.

"You did it yourself?"

She nodded. "I thought it might be more fun. After a couple of weeks, before the guy she was seeing at the time arrived, she asked that I wait for him to orgasm before I did. She teased him for an hour, playing with him, taking him nearly all the way before stopping, poor man, but she kept looking at me while she teased him, knowing I'd promised her to wait."

"She was teasing you too."

"Yes." She swallowed. "She liked making me suffer, forced to be quiet. But one night, she didn't let him come."

"Did she want proof that night?"

"I was...a mess, debating whether to finish myself off while she let him out. Then again, maybe she'd meant to frustrate me too. So I waited until she came back. She sat on the edge of my bed, like always, and touched me, like always. But instead of feeling for wetness, she just pushed a finger over my clit and slowly, very slowly... It was maddening."

"But she made you come," I said.

Ashley nodded. "Yes. After a while. She seemed to know when I was about to, then back off. When it did come...well, I dissolved. My first from a girl."

"But not your last."

She laughed, her embarrassment conquered. "No. After, she wanted me to return the favor."

"Tell us," said Brendan.

So he's enjoying this. I touched him. He was hard.

"I'd never touched a girl. It was okay for her to touch me, but to touch her, there, I was... She took my hand and put it between her legs. She said, 'You know what to do, just do it.' Making her come made me feel so powerful." Ashley laughed. "The boys stopped coming after that. It was just me and her. I guess she felt powerful too."

So it was me she liked, in that way.

She took my arm. "Don't get me wrong, I like men too. It's just then, she was there, convenient, willing to teach me things."

I never knew this about her. "And this afternoon?"

"I was hoping to catch you—" She swallowed. "I was hoping to catch Brendan pounding you into the floor."

Brendan and I looked at each other. "You'd like to do that, wouldn't you?" I said to him.

"Now's good."

"No," said Ashley. "Tomorrow morning. And I'll coach you. Right now you've got a job to do."

This was my cue. I took Ashley's hand. "We'll pretend you're not there," I said. "For a while."

She nodded. "I'd like that."

"Anything else you'd like?"

"If I do touch—" She closed her eyes. "Make sure I know you know."

I pecked Brendan's cheek. "Would you like to see your dance teacher play with herself?" What could he say? Of course he would. "You have no idea how many long minutes of begging that will cost you."

He nodded. "And you, next time." He grinned. "I'll bet you're a creative beggar."

With that, I just wanted to begin.

I'd never touched him except through his dance wear. And only by accident. Sort of. But having his cock in my bare hands to make hard and come excited me to no end. That I would make him beg for it thrilled me even further. I knew how I'd reacted when he'd refused to speed up. The pent up tension had nowhere to go. It just sat inside me, boiling. I tingled all over. My arousal had soared. I had nearly begged.

I hugged him, looked into his eyes. "You're all talk."

He squeezed me tight. "No."

Damned. My sex tightened in anticipation. I pushed away, took his hand and dragged him to my bedroom. "Get on your back, naked."

Ashley pulled the wooden chair I kept in the corner to toss clothes on and put it next to the bed, backwards, sat in it, knees wide, elbows over the chair's back, chin on her forearms. Eyes on us.

Brendan shed his clothes.

Men seem to be able to strip with ease, even with women present. Brendan was no exception.

His cock sprung from his underwear, his balls swinging as he moved. He climbed on the bed and I pushed him to his back and leaned over him, my nose between his legs to inhaled his musky maleness. Heaven.

I sat crossed legged between his splayed knees, kneaded the thick meat of his cock in my fingers, rolled those manly orbs that define a man in my palm, saw him inhale suddenly when I squeezed both cock and balls at once. I wanted that cock between my legs, inside, pounding me into submission, coming while I clenched my lips around him. I wanted to come again. But later, after I'd had my fill of that piece of man-flesh that grew stiff in my fingers.

"I'm not in a rush,' I said. "We've got all night." I glanced to Ashley. She didn't acknowledge that I looked over. But she'd dropped one hand to that pouty feminine bulge between her legs, her index finger tracing up and down her lips through her jeans. I wondered if she would remove them or just come as she was. I decided that the proof I would ask for would not come from me, but from Brendan. I'd ask her to unzip and drop her panties so he could probe for wetness.

"Watch Ashley's fingers," I said to him. "Wouldn't you like those fingers to be yours?"

He nodded then sighed, a long drawn out breath, while he filled to rock in my fingers. I loved how that felt, how I could make him hard just by stroking very slowly, methodically, hand over hand, over and over, altering the timing just enough to keep him hard but not drive him over. Eventually, he'd break down and beg for more.

Ashley pushed small circles into her sex, the denim yielding sensually, the long furrow between her lips clearly visible. And clearly too, I wanted to feel the heat between her thighs just as much as Brendan. Her eyes had closed, mouth opened.

"Are you wet?" I said to her.

She nodded without opening her eyes.

"Brendan's enjoying this too." I faced him. "Aren't you?"

"Fuck, yes. And so are you."

He had me there. I was soaked. I wanted to touch myself, make my orgasm rush from my nether lips. But I wanted my hands on his cock more.

He was iron. But I didn't know him or his body's reactions well enough to make him ride the edge. I'd just have to be extra careful, extra vigilant.

Ashley sped up, pushed into the split between her lips with force. This really seem to work for her. Likely, she'd been turned on since this afternoon. I faced her, careful to maintain my rhythm on Brendan's cock, and waited until she saw me watching.

"Don't you dare come before he does," I said.

She inhaled, deeply, shook her head.

I worked Brendan until he got really close, panting, then slowed to a crawl until the moment passed. His poor balls, swollen, pulled tight into him. When they relaxed I brought him up again.

I discovered that about three minutes of light stroking followed by slightly faster strokes until he tensed, worked best. And repeated until desperate. Every time I backed off he groaned. I loved that. I loved it all: his frustration, having Ashley with us, making her wait, but most of all, driving Brendan mad with need. But I was tiring. And the poor man deserved his orgasm.

Yet, he'd said nothing, just kept his eyes closed and took it. But I could see the resolve it took to stay silent. He wasn't the begging type, vocally, but his face, those pathetic groans when I denied him yet again, were pure delight. Next time, I decided, I'd try this when we were both fresh. I'd wring tears from him.

But now I wanted to see him go over. I stroked slightly harder, slightly faster, spreading the clear slippery fluid until his cock squeezed through my slick fingers. I felt the surge flow inside, felt him tense, his body rigid with need. This was it. He gripped the bedsheets and arched his back, his hips up to meet my fingers.

"Ashley," I said, "now."

Brendan gave out a deep groan and froze. His whole body strained to almost impossible levels. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the best orgasm of his life. That thought made me giddy with accomplishment.

Ashley began to pant, fingers wild over her lips. Her release was imminent, but I focused on my Brendan. I squeezed his so-hard cock just a bit more and—

The first contraction hit so forcefully I thought he'd self-destruct. One after the other, they rocked through him, thick shots of cum spurting to his stomach. Next time, that come would fill me.

I kept stroking until he'd expended it all, drained on my bed, panting, sated. Ashley shook quietly in the chair, eyes closed.

I felt rather wicked, orchestrating this. I scooped up some cum, slipped off the bed and fed it to Ashley. "Proof," I said. She sucked my fingers. "Now give him some."

She didn't do what I expected. She stood, slid off her jeans and panties and climbed on the bed, facing me, straddled Brendan's face and pushed her well trimmed sex to his mouth.

Strangely, I didn't feel jealous or left out. I was just horny.

I stuck my hand down my tights, pressed my fingers deep. I was soaked, my clit swollen hard.

With a few quick strokes...I...could...fuck...fuck...come...in...a...

"Stop!" said Brendan.

What? "Are you crazy?" I said. I didn't even know Ashley had moved off him.

"Let Ashley do it."

So girls did excite him. I peeled down my tights and panties and arched my hips off the bed, my wet lips open, my mind trying to wrap itself around the fact I was letting a girl use her mouth on me. Never mind. I was too horny to refuse. I'd worry about that later. I took her head and held her to me.

The second her tongue touched I knew I'd be quick work. This whole day had been one extended foreplay, one orgasm not enough. I arched my hips and braced. Ashley had learned well. Every lick was ecstasy, every lick— I shrieked, exploding. Once, twice. I couldn't—I rolled up on the bed, my sex still electric, sensitive, still erupting.

"Does this mean we're a team?" said Ashley.

"Teams need time to gel," said Brendan.

That they do. I grinned up at them, euphoric, bathing in the last of the contractions. How long had it been since I'd had two mind-blowing orgasm in one day? Too long. And the last one was every bit as thrilling as the first. I reached for both of them held his thigh, her hand. "I want to kiss you both."

Their ecstatic grins spoke volumes. But I still wanted hard Brendan-meat between my legs. Maybe, just maybe, Ashley would cheer us on, proof we were a real team.