With the hot water from the shower running down my body, I wrap my hand around my cock and let the fantasy play out in my mind.
Freya’s skirt is pulled up to her waist, my fingers softly toying with the lips of her pussy. And Julian joins in, his face between her legs, licking her while she purrs in my lap.
I can practically hear her delicate moans in my ear. So in my imagination, I pull her to face me, straddling my hips as I sink deep inside her, letting her feel what it’s like to take a cock. I picture the look of surprise on her face as she bounces on my lap. Surprise that we’ve let this happen. Surprise that she’s not more embarrassed by how much she wants it. Surprise at how good it feels.
As she moves, finding her pleasure, Julian is behind her. I feel his hand on my leg. His fingers find their way to the spot where Freya and I are joined.
After she comes, I lift her from my lap, and Julian is there, cleaning up my cock and licking up her release.
“Unh,” I groan.
My fist picks up speed, stroking in a fast tempo to the dirty scene playing out in my head. I picture that instead of my fist, it’s his pretty pink lips. He’s moaning around my shaft. Her perky breasts are against my tongue. All our cries echo in the tiny space, the scent of sex filling the compartment.
My hand slams against the tile wall of the shower as I come, moaning loudly.
“Fuck,” I bark breathlessly as the orgasm crashes over me in waves. That’s the most I’ve come in a long time. Especially from a filthy scene my dirty mind conjured so effortlessly.
They’ve managed to embed themselves in my psyche, and a normal person might feel a little ashamed of what I just did. But as I turn the water off, I decide there’s nothing wrong with a little indulgence.
And absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t try to see them again.
Rule #9: Never follow your friend into a sex club.
Freya
Archer: I was wondering if you two would like to ride more elevators with me? Perhaps tomorrow night?
Freya: I’m never riding another elevator again.
Archer: Okay, fine. Then how would you like to ride an escalator with me? Or the Métro? What is the sideways cable car thing in Montmartre called?
Julian: It’s called a funicular.
Archer: He speaks!
Archer: Let’s all go ride the funicular.
Julian: No.
Archer: Okay fine. Dinner?
Freya: All three of us?
Archer: We trauma bonded, Freya. Also, you never finished your story about your restaurant.
Julian: That is not what trauma bonding means.
“What are you smiling about?” Amelia asks, trying to peekover my shoulder to readmy texts.
“Nothing,” I lie, placing my phone face down on my lap.
“It wouldn’t happen to be that hot pilot you got stuck in an elevator with, would it?” Her mischievous smirk creates dimples in her cheeks.
“He was hardly a pilot. More like an unstable boxer with a serious lack of self-preservation.”
She nudges my shoulder. “Okay, but ahotunstable boxer with a serious lack of self-preservation.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “You need to get your priorities straight, my friend.”
