11 comments/ 21529 views/ 29 favorites Wing Babe By: erotichajj The phone rang. I didn't bother looking at the caller ID. "Hey, Court," I answered. "Hey, Beth. Dressed yet?" Court-speak for "Let's go! I'm horny!" "I'm not going tonight. I'm sorry," I said. Silence at the other end. I wondered what she was thinking. "Courtney, you still there?" "Yeah, Beth, still here," Courtney answered. "What's up? You feeling okay?" "I'm fine, physically anyway. I... I don't know, I guess I'm just not in the mood. Sorry," I repeated lamely. Courtney and I had hit it off from the day she was hired at Lamson and Associates. Our friendship had progressed from discussing points of law over lunch to shopping trips together to workouts at the gym. For the last four months or so we'd been hitting the clubs every other Saturday night. We arrived together but usually parted company at the end of the evening, each of us with a good-looking fellow in tow. Courtney lived for the thrill of the Saturday night chase, and for our Sunday afternoon post-mortem phone chats that were filled with all the juicy details of our amorous adventures. Fine for her. But nights in the sack with strange men weren't what I wanted, not at all. I just went along with her, biding my time until the opportunity to tell her how I really felt presented itself. Right? Wrong. I'd had opportunities galore. I just didn't have the balls, literally or figuratively, to say or do anything. That was the real problem. The crap about biding my time was a cop-out, and I knew it. "It's okay," Court sighed, sounding anything but okay. "There'll be other nights. Is... is there something I can help you with? You sure you're all right?" The dejection in her voice gave way to concern. "I'm fine. Honest. And thanks for asking." Well, yes, Court, now that you mention it, why don't you come over and let me love on you until your pretty little toes curl, would that be too much to ask? I couldn't blurt that out over the phone, now could I? But I wanted to. So, what are you going to do tonight?" she asked. "What I'm going to do," I said, "is feed my soul. Uncork a bottle of white Zinf, nosh on a jay till I get the munchies, order a pizza, and reacquaint myself with my LP collection." And dream about your ass. Can't forget that. "You still going out?" "I doubt it. Wouldn't be as much fun getting laid without my wing babe," Courtney replied. "Your what?" I tried to sound angry but giggled in spite of myself. "Your wing babe?" Courtney's laughter made me want her even more. Do something, Beth. You can't go on like this. "You have real, honest-to-God records?" Court asked. She sounded awe-stricken, as if vinyl was a relic from our prehistoric past. Gee, was that opportunity knocking again? Answer the door. Grow a set. Invite her in. "And a turntable to play 'em on," I replied. "Brand-new stylus, too. Hey, if you're not venturing out in search of the Almighty Rod tonight, why don't you come over and have a listen?" There. You did it. "Wow. I can't remember the last time I heard tunes on wax. Must have been a teenager." Her voice still carried an undertone of wonder. I gave her my best sales pitch. "I've got plenty of wine. The joint's more than big enough to get us both goofy." I could sense Court mulling it over. "As if you need any help," I added. Then I hit her where she lived. "I'll order a large from Allllfieeee's..." I laughed and my heart sighed when I heard Court's mock-orgasmic moans. Two things in life truly turned Courtney on. Good-looking men and Alfie's pizza, not necessarily in that order. Alfie's, she always said, was why she put in those long hours at the gym; the guys the results attracted were merely a fringe benefit. "Girls night in," I finished. "Whaddaya think?" "Yes, Alfie's, oh God yesssss," she cried. She waited for my laughter to subside again. "You got me," she said. "I'll be over after I change. Want me to bring anything?" "Just yourself." Just your bubbly, beautiful self, Courtney, that's all. "Okay. See you in a few then," she replied nonchalantly. I was running up the stairs to my bedroom before she hung up. My stomach was in knots. Now, Beth, what do you wear to seduce a dear friend, who also happens to be the woman of your dreams, without being too obvious about it? I felt giddy as I rummaged through my lingerie drawers. - Courtney knocked twice before letting herself in. "Hey, wing babe," she hollered. "It's me." "Wing babe, my ass," I shot back. "I'm in the kitchen." We were both still chuckling as Court came through the archway. I caught a faint whiff of her vanilla scent as we exchanged our usual hug. "Thanks for the invite," Courtney said, smiling. "The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Girls night in, why not?" "De nada. And hey, I'm sure the guys will still be out there next week," I offered, hoping that I'd never see the inside of a club again. "It seems a little weird, though." "What does?" "Seeing you on a Saturday night not wearing a skimpy, man-eating dress." What Court was wearing was more than enough to get my juices flowing. Ancient Levi's, sinfully snug, torn across the left knee. The denim shaping her magnificent ass was worn nearly threadbare at the bottoms of both cheeks. A black Pink Floyd tee with the prism logo from Dark Side of the Moon clung to her torso and accentuated her firm 34-B's; I knew Court well enough to know that she was braless. The shirt wasn't long enough to tuck in; two inches of tight, bare abs belied her Alfie's addiction. Her short auburn hair was styled in a new, tousled pixie-do that made her look impishly sexy. Full, soft lips that I craved daily. And those expressive brown eyes. God, I wanted to peel and eat her right then and there. "You're looking pretty comfy yourself," Court said. I'd gone for a simple look, casual and not overtly provocative; hair in a ponytail, nondescript knee-length cargo shorts and a tan cotton tank top that displayed no more of me than she'd seen before. But she'd never seen the deadly lavender demi-bra and tangas that I'd chosen to commemorate the occasion. "I am comfy," I replied. "You know, girlfriend, I'm pushing forty. I think maybe I'm getting too old to stuff myself into tight dresses." "Bullshit, Beth. I wish I had your figure." Then she stuck the needle in. "At least I hope I do when I get to be your age. And besides," she couldn't resist adding, "where would I be without my wing babe?" "Hey, wait a minute. I'm only nine years older than you. And what's with this wing babe shit, anyway?" Court was biting back laughter and shaking. I stared her down. Finally she cut loose and so did I. "I'm sorry," she giggled. "No more wing babe. I promise." "All right, then. Grab the wine, will ya?" As she reached for the bottle of Zinfandel I gave her a playful smack on the ass and felt a rush of guilty pleasure. "There's your wing babe," I said. "Hey, I promised," Court protested, giggling again. She looked so damned desirable that I had to help myself to another hug, one that might have been a little tighter and lasted a little longer than usual. She didn't resist. "Thanks for coming over," I said as I released her. I took two wine glasses from the cabinet. "It... it means a lot to me." "Beth... you're sure you're okay?" Court asked. "You sounded kinda down on the phone." I gave her my biggest, brightest smile. "I'm just peachy. And now, downstairs," I directed. "The wonder of wax awaits." - "Jesus, Beth, your collection is awesome." Court was scanning the alphabetically-ordered rows of LPs; I was seated on the sofa scanning her ass, which was awesome squared. "I can't decide what I want to hear. This is too much. How many albums do you have, anyway?" "Eight hundred something at last count. Twenty-four years worth. Just hurry up and pick one, will ya?" I teased. "I'm ready to get high." Courtney stuck her tongue out at me. "Patience, love," she chided playfully. She thought for a second, went back to the C's and D's and pulled one out. I couldn't see it; she hid it behind her back before she walked to the sofa, grinning from ear to ear. "How's this?" she asked as she held out So Far by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Talk about setting a mood; I couldn't have done better myself. "Just perfect," I congratulated her as I got up. "I haven't played this forever. Great choice." Courtney stood beside me, fascinated, as I started the platter, cued the tonearm and switched it down. We were back on the sofa before "Déjà Vu" started to play. We made small talk as we sipped our wine and listened and I would probably still be lost in her brown eyes if she hadn't spoken. "Well, what are you waiting for, stoner?" Court said quietly, pointing to the joint on the coffee table. "Fire that bad boy up." I snapped back to reality and did as I was told. "Take it easy, girl. This stuff's pretty sticky," I cautioned as I lit it. We both took a couple of tokes. Court declined a third hit. "Better not," she coughed, waving it away. "You weren't kidding. That shit is dangerous." I snubbed it out carefully, turned the volume up a smidge and we sank back into the sofa, glasses in hand. Both of us were feeling good enough to sing along to "Ohio" by the time it played. I remembered that the last track on Side One, "Find the Cost of Freedom," was barely two minutes long. Halfway through it I patted Court's knee and got up. "This ain't no CD," I said. "Gotta flip it over. And let me know when you want your Alfie's fix." "'Kay." Court smiled in happy agreement. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable, so high, that I knew immediately that I wasn't even going to try to get her into bed, at least tonight. Music and pizza was as far as this night was going to go; getting Courtney stoned hadn't been such a dandy idea after all. The paranoid piece of my buzz kicked in its two cents worth. Ever hear of gross sexual imposition, Beth? Yeah, go ahead, try it on a lawyer. Disbarment proceedings had begun by the time I fitted the record back on the spindle. A tap on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts and shocked the living hell out of me. I gasped and wheeled around. "Sorry, Beth. Didn't mean to scare you," Courtney said. She looked neither vulnerable nor high now. And definitely not innocent. All she looked was hot. She looked like sex waiting to happen. She looked exactly the way she did when she was melting some stud at a club, only she was melting me. She looked like she wanted to fuck. "Damn, girlfr... " was all I could get out before she dissolved my fright with her lips, a languid, liquid, sensual invitation to love that culminated in a single feathery wisp of exploratory tongue. I was too dazed to respond; I simply shivered until it was over. "Court, why... why did you do that?" I asked. My buzz had evaporated but my head was still spinning. "Because you wouldn't, and I've been waiting too long for it," she breathed. "I thought it was going to happen in the kitchen. The slap on the butt. The hug. I waited." She stepped closer. "What are you afraid of, Beth? Rejection? Losing a friend?" "What do you mean... " "What I mean," Court said, untucking my tank top and locking her hands around my waist beneath it, "is that I see the way you look at me at times. Those glances that you don't think I notice. At work, at the gym. In the shower at the gym." Her eyes flashed. I could feel myself blush as she continued. "I see them. And I feel them, Beth. They're no secret. But the look that kills me is that sad, hangdog look in your eyes on Saturday nights when I'm leaving with a guy. It hurts you, doesn't it?" "Yes." I couldn't deny it. I had to come clean. "I want you to leave with me, not him." "Well, there is no him tonight, wing babe. Just you. And me." Her body melded into mine and again I smelled vanilla, the scent that I suddenly realized she had worn for me; she knew how I loved vanilla. "And I'm not going anywhere." She closed her eyes. Her lips parted, waiting. I kissed her lower lip, then pressed my mouth carefully into hers as she opened for me. Our tongues played a lazy game of tag, pursuing, touching, retreating, until tenderness turned to urgency. My hands lost themselves in her hair; hers found their way into my shorts, caressing, fondling, tugging at my panties. "Now that's more like it," Court said after we emerged from our kiss. "And while I've got you here there's something I need to share with you. A problem." "Share away." "Lately, I can't seem to focus on the man I'm with when he goes down on me. I think of you, Beth, especially if he really knows what he's doing. Remember the guy I left with the last time we went out? The surfer-looking dude?" she asked, kissing my neck as she traced the crack of my ass with the pad of a fingertip, up and down, slowly. "Brett was his name, and he could eat pussy for a living." "Mmmm," I sighed. I didn't remember Brett from Adam at this point and could care less about his oral skills; all I knew was that Court's lips, her touch, her fragrance, the hint of naughtiness in her little-girl voice as she told her erotic story were combining to excite me in a way that I could never have imagined possible. My legs were so weak that I was hanging on to her to hold myself up. "I totally freaked him out. I cried... your name... when he got me off," she confided suggestively as she kissed my earlobe. I started trembling again. Court's confession, contrived or not, was getting me all kinds of wet. My nipples were distended, itchy peaks, easily visible under my cotton tank despite the bra. I was spellbound, totally into her tale now. "Then what?" I gasped. "Then," she said, removing her hands from my shorts and running them under the back of my shirt, "he jumped off the bed. His cock went limp before he could get his skivvies back on. He called a taxi and gave me thirty bucks. Mumbled something about how he wasn't into lesbians. I told him I wasn't a lesbian." "And?" I couldn't believe how shaky my voice sounded; I couldn't believe that what I'd dreamed of for so long was actually going to happen, was already happening. Even more thrilling was the fact that it was Court, not me, that was making it happen. "He asked who the fuck Beth was then, my uncle? I told him what he could do with his thirty bucks. And I did some serious soul-searching in the cab on the way home." Courtney gazed into my eyes. She brought her hands around to massage my breasts, teasing my nipples with her palms until they ached. "I've never made it with a woman, Beth. You know that. But by the time I got home I admitted to myself that I wanted to try it, I wanted to have the experience, at least once." She took a deep breath and gave me a dreamy smile. "Who I wanted it to be with was the easy part. When I went to bed I had the hottest fantasies about you and me, together. And it felt... so good... when I screamed your name again." I grabbed Courtney, pinning her hands against my breasts, kissing her hungrily as I unzipped her fly. She moaned into my mouth as I pushed her panties aside to discover the truth, that she wanted this just as badly as I did, that she was every bit as wet as I was. I eased a fingertip into her, just the tip, seeking that small, secret patch of tingly nerve endings just inside that felt so special at the start of my self-love sessions. Her hold on my breasts tightened as I wiggled gently and I knew I was there; an almost imperceptible side-to-side movement made her tongue coil and slither and lash against mine before plunging into my throat. It seemed like forever before I tugged my finger out of her and we broke. Court's eyes were still closed. Her lower lip trembled. Her hair was a rumpled mess. Her breasts rose and fell with each hard, steep gasp of breath. A sliver of pale-yellow gauze shone through her open zipper. The panties weren't helping much, either; a wet blotch the size of a half-dollar darkened the crotch of her jeans. Courtney Lynn Stoll, Esquire, criminal defense attorney extraordinaire now looked like the poster child for Terminal Sexual Arousal, and she was easily the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. "Then come upstairs, beautiful," I whispered, kissing her forehead as gently as I could, "and let me make you scream my name." Court thought to bring the bottle and the ashtray with the joint in it along with us. The lighter, too. Lovely girl. - "Beth, that's enough," Courtney giggled. "It tickles!" "Just a little more," I said. I tipped the bottle up carefully until wine overflowed from her navel, trickling out in all directions. She shivered as a final careless splash sent rivulets cascading down her belly and sides and into her nether regions. "There we go," I said, satisfied. I put the bottle on the nightstand. I savored a mouthful of firm, silky breast before kissing my way back down to the puddle on Courtney's stomach. "Bottoms up," I cried, then noisily sucked and slurped until most of the wine was gone. My tongue mopped up, licking her abs, rimming her navel down to the tiny, hard knot at the bottom and blow-drying it with puffs of warm breath. "Ahhh. A truly outstanding vintage," I sighed with satisfaction. Court's giggles turned to sighs, then musical moans as I lapped at her sides, her lower belly, the sensitive crevasses between her thighs and pubic mound, in the cleft of her ass, everywhere. By the time I had cleaned the last dewdrop from her landing strip her pussy was ripe, glistening with wine and her own juices; her outer lips were swollen and flushed to a luscious, angry pink. Her minora protruded slightly, reminding me of a rose in the first stage of bloom. I stroked them with a lazy fingertip until she quivered and pleaded. "Do it, Beth," Court whimpered. "Please, I need it, do it now." Lord knows I wanted to. I fought back a sudden urge to simply pry her open and ravage her. Instead I tickled the tiny patch of bare skin between her pubes and the top of her slit with the tip of my tongue until I felt her hands latch onto me in a desperate attempt to force me down. "Sorry, love," I said, looking into her eyes. "Missed a spot." My mouth was actually watering at the sight of her pussy. I gave myself last-minute instructions. Slow and easy, Beth, I told myself. Don't rush. Explore her. Savor her. Let her come to you. Then I dove in. I don't know who enjoyed it more, Court or me. She was heavenly. I gave her everything she craved, everything she needed, without her uttering a single word; her body transmitted signals and my brain received and processed them unerringly. A slight upward twitch of her hips told my tongue to go deeper; the way she arched her back asked me to do that again, please. Finding her G-spot was easy; the tight, luxurious squeeze of her vaginal muscles around my fingers said right there when I'd hit it. I finally got her to gasp when I started teasing all around her clit with a lubed fingertip; she simply couldn't get enough of that so I teased her mercilessly; I teased around her clit for a good ten minutes before I actually kissed it. Nudging her hood back and forth with a finger on each side and flicking my tongue at her pearl turned her to quivering jelly, then I succumbed to my own desire to bury my lips into her and suck her into the stratosphere. I milked earthquakes from her G-spot. And by the time the last of countless orgasms ripped through and out of her Court's hands and thighs were clamped into my head; I felt every one of her glorious shockwaves myself as she screamed my name, over and over again. Wing Babe She was screaming Beth, not wing babe. - Courtney turned out to be everything I'd dreamed of and so much more. I hit the joint while Court got herself together. As God is my witness, it was just one tiny hit. But I still can't remember the sequence of events that led to my being face-down, boobs mashed into the mattress, head on a pillow and ass hiked to the sky, laughing hysterically as Court slid the mouth of the wine bottle under the waistband of my panties and emptied the last inch or so of it down my crack. It dampened the fabric at the top of my butt, washed over the thin ribbon of satin between my cheeks, then soaked the crotch and spread into the front panel. I was wet to my knees when she laid the bottle aside. "Clean-up, aisle two," she announced. I grabbed handfuls of sheet and shook as she spread my cheeks and lapped my crack, top to bottom before madly sucking wine, lips and clit through the wet satin until I thought I'd end up chewing the pillow to shreds. The encore consisted of Court stuffing as much panty as she could into my cunt with her tongue, pulling it out slowly with her teeth and packing it in again, and it felt so exquisitely naughty that it gave me goose bumps. Finally she slid my tangas to my knees. "On your side, wing babe," she commanded. I rolled over obediently. Court pulled my panties the rest of the way off and tossed them to the floor before spooning in behind me. She kissed my neck and nudged a knee into my legs. I looked over my shoulder to see her smiling at me. "Open, sesame," she mouthed, nudging again. I raised my top leg, then lowered it, trapping Court's thigh as it slipped in, silky smooth, high and tight against my pussy. She planted her foot into the bed to lock her leg into place. Her nipples pressed into my back as she leaned in for a quick kiss. "Now fuck me, Bethany," she cooed. I began to rock. "Fuck me like you mean it... oh... oh... aahhh yeah, just like that." Before I knew it I had settled into a nasty groove that was making my clit sing, I was hitting it just right, every time, rubbing a wet path into her thigh; the tingly, rippling, simmering feeling in my pussy escalated to a slow boil and I knew I was in the zone. Court urged me on in a husky snarl that only added fuel to the fire. "Do you like that, wing babe? I love it. I love it when you fuck me." Her hand crept over my side and fastened onto a breast, squeezing and pressing, tugging my nipple. "And I'd love it even more," she growled while her teeth nipped at my shoulder, "if you'd fuck me harder." I completely lost it then. Sensory overload. I hit top gear and tore into her thigh like a maniac on meth. Next stop, orgasm. No control now. Court grunted and moaned her approval as my pleasure surged to a wicked plateau that I had no chance of maintaining; I was going to come hard, and then she was gone; her thigh pulled out of my crotch just as I braced for the first spike. "Courtney, nooooo... how could you?" I whined. She quickly rolled me on to my back and straddled me, then grabbed my wrists so that I couldn't finish myself off. I pleaded. I thrashed. I threatened. No dice. She waited until I'd finished venting to let go of my wrists. "Ma'am, that wuz truly amazin'," Court drawled in the deep tone of an awestruck ranch hand. She tipped an imaginary Stetson. "Mah compl'ments. You oughta hook up with th' rodeo, 'cause you sho' 'nuff can ride." "You... you fucking tease," I panted. Then I cracked up. I so desperately wanted to come and she was making me laugh like a hyena. "Easy, darlin'. Yuh'll git whut's comin' to yuh," Cowboy Court promised. Then we both laughed until I was totally spent, totally relaxed. And I mean totally relaxed. I felt like I felt an hour or so after a five-K run. I was breathing easily, naturally. My clit wasn't screaming for attention. My nipples were still hard but felt almost normal. How did she do that? Court eased herself down onto me just enough to provide soft contact and locked her eyes into mine. "You are so beautiful, Beth," she whispered. Her voice was her own again, soothing, melodic. "Especially when you laugh." And with a tiny kiss to my nose she was off again. Her hands and lips drifting in silent exploration over my breasts and belly relaxed me even more deeply and made me forget about everything else for a while. My tension mounted again as she nibbled my inner lips and tongue-fucked me with deep, luxurious strokes, reigniting the fire in my loins and stoking it patiently, lovingly, until it burned hotter than ever. She took my clit into her mouth and sucked it as gently and assiduously as a nursing infant, making it ache and flutter and throb in a hundred new and exciting ways. Every subtle movement of her lips and tongue produced waves of pure, deep pleasure that she applied in layers, testing the very limits of my ability to absorb it and I couldn't decide which I wanted more, the torture or the release. I remember begging for both, loudly, as Court delivered me to the edge of madness and pulled me back, time after time. Finally, at that exact moment before I went nova, the ridged glass mouth of the wine bottle inching into my cunt triggered agonizingly delicious bolts of hot, raw sensation, one after another, orgasms that racked me to my core and made me cry out like a dying animal. She rode me through them for what felt like eternities, servicing my clit with sublime skill while carefully working the neck of the bottle in and out of me until I collapsed. - Today we're partners, in life, love and law. Jenkins and Stoll, Attorneys, is doing quite well, thank you. Court still goes to a club every once in a while but she's always back by midnight, and the sex on those nights is transcendent. Those are the nights she'll call me wing babe again. And I still smack her ass when she does. I really don't mind it, though.