by Rowena
But now that she’s actually here in front of me and will be here within my reach for several days, I realize she has been doing me a favor all this time—consciously or unconsciously.
The fact that she will be alone with me, on my couch, in a vulnerable position is messing with my head. I can have my way with her, I realize, and finally find out what it’s like to sink myself into her warmth, to plow her slick depths with my hungry cock.
I have to shake naughty thoughts off constantly now, thoughts involving slipping something into her drink so she doesn’t wake up while I explore her body.
What is wrong with me? I’d want her to be aware of my every move, my every plunge inside her warm canal. I’d want to see her head lean back as she accepts the pleasure I can give, wouldn’t I?
But I learned something about myself during the aftermath of her request: I want Lola however I can have her.
I don’t see how she stayed so clueless about my desire for her, but it has worked in my favor since she still trusts me enough to sleep on my couch for several nights. She’s going to let herself be alone with me, spend night upon night in my home. Not that we haven’t been alone before—of course we have, as teenagers. She visited me at my home many times, but it was always in the daytime. If we hung out together at night, it was always out somewhere—some movie or a bar.
I have to watch myself—I can’t give myself away with my body language, and I can’t follow up with the deep slumber fantasy because I don’t actually want to drug her in case something reacts with her badly.
She will be with me a whole week so I have a little time to plot and plan how I’m going to take her, and I can’t make any rash moves in the meantime.
But I have no doubt I will find a way.
Lola will not leave here without us knowing each other a whole lot better.
II.
LOLA
Brandon’s been acting a little weird.
He seems nervous for some reason, a little more nervous than usual.
He probably thinks he has covered his crush up pretty well over the years, but he’s so transparent, I have no doubt he still has feelings for me beyond friendship. No matter how nonchalant he acts, I’m aware he has a hard time being around me, that he still hasn’t gotten over that crush from long ago.
I suppose I’ve made it worse, still being around him like this, dangling in front of him. But I figured with us graduating from high school he’d grow out of it, especially since he got to go to college and live out a whole life there without me in it, but once he graduated and we touched base again, it was like nothing changed.
I’m glad he still feels close to me—that he’s still my friend and always there for me.
No doubt, there’s something comforting about that—no matter where I go or how long I take to get back, he’ll be waiting for me.
Once in a while, I get hit by fear that the next time I see him, I’ll find that he’s over me at last and be met with cold indifference.
Thankfully, that time has not yet arrived.
His hazel eyes are on me now like he’s watching my every move—like he wants to drink me in. Like he’s afraid he’ll miss something if he blinks.
His heart is plainly on his sleeve and I’m so sorry to do this to him—to be physically even closer to him than before.
He looks like he can barely handle my nearness now, much less my continued presence for a week straight in his home, on his couch.
I’ve tried to spare him this—spare us both—but I’m finally at a point where I have nowhere else to turn. I can’t tell him that, of course—I can’t let him know he was my last resort when all my other options fell through.
I’m sort of relieved he ended up being my shelter though.
He offered me his bed, but I had to turn it down. Best to keep things as friendly as possible, and that means not having anything at all to do with his bed.
I’m so used to couches anyway, and his is particularly comfy.
The quality of his couch isn’t the only thing I’ve noticed—his whole quality of life seems to have changed.
Before, he lived in his parents’ place—a place in a neighborhood of people who pretended to be solidly middle-class, but were more lower-middle-class.
Now he’s in a neighborhood of undoubtedly middle-class people, with probably some upper-middle-class folks sprinkled in.
There is a noticeable difference in the landscaping, the clothes, the cars.
The place his parents left him when they died in a car accident a few years ago was smaller than his place now, and it had more rooms squashed into it.
Now, he’s got this huge bachelor pad with every creature comfort you can imagine.
I’ve realized there’s something more confident about him—like he picked up a bit of swagger, and I’m finding it pretty sexy. He was always fairly good-looking, though not my type, but he’s suddenly now a lot more attractive.
I wonder what’s the deal?
Maybe that’s just it—he has a new job or something that pays him pretty well and he’s able to ‘move on up,’ so he’s feeling himself, living life like a big ol’ pimp.
I realize I’ve been yapping about myself and have not gotten anything out of him about his life lately.
I’ve noticed the lack of a girlfriend around, but what else?
“So,” I begin, “what have you been up to, Mr. I-Live-In-A-Much-Bigger-Place-Now?” I ask.
He smiles briefly before he answers.
“I made some good investments,” he says. “I pretty much don’t have to work anymore, so if you hang around here in the day, I’m afraid you’ll bump into me a lot—though I go out here and there on some errand or other. Anyway, I should warn you: my sleepwalking has gotten a bit worse. Don’t be alarmed if you see me walking into the kitchen late at night and I don’t respond to you talking to me or anything. Definitely don’t let me just walk out the door if I head for it—I can still function and perform the task of unlocking it so just guide me gently back to my room. Whatever you do, don’t try to wake me. But don’t worry too much about it either, I probably won’t bother you.” He stands and I realize he’s preparing to leave.
It registers that it is now dark outside. Time sure flew!
“Be back with your blankets etc.,” he says, then turns to go. I find myself watching him till he’s out of sight, and I try to ignore how much I like what I see.
He returns with an armful of bed linens and pillows, then dumps them on the couch.
“Anyway, good night,” he says. “Maybe we can do breakfast or something in the morning. We can even go to your favorite place, Denny’s if you want.”
“That sounds nice,” I say, then quickly turn from him to prepare to watch TV until I fall asleep.
I awaken to a sound and realize Brandon’s in the kitchen, grabbing some water.
I settle back into my spot and try to go back to sleep, not bothering to figure out if he’s actually awake or not. But what makes it harder is knowing he’s there, just a few feet away, so I know I have to wait until he heads back to his room to relax into sleep again.
Brandon doesn’t head back to his room, however.
I turn back toward him and realize he’s sort of staring in my direction and a prickling sensation runs through my body.
I figure he must be sleepwalking since I’m now looking at him directly and he’s not looking away, embarrassed at having been caught.
He’s almost looking right through me.
I take a moment to take in his shirtless torso and realize he must have been hitting the gym pretty hard—his body is ridiculously hot with those muscled arms and those washboard abs.
He looked a bit more fit to me when we chatted yesterday, but seeing his exposed muscles now, so hard and defined, is turning me on a little, especially with his hazel eyes stuck on me.
My pussy starts tingling a bit.
Then Brandon starts heading for me and it starts tingling a lot.
&nb
sp; “Hey, Brandon,” I whisper, trying to reach some part of him, but he does not respond.
“Brandon!” I whisper harder, but I know I’m in trouble as he reaches the couch and the expression on his face hasn’t changed.
Okay, he said to guide him back to his room, gently, I remember, but it goes out the window when he suddenly climbs on top of me, pushing me back into the couch.
His hands reach the sides of my hips, and he quickly pulls my panties down and flings them aside.
My heart is jackhammering against my chest in panic.
How do I stop this guy?
The answer is that I don’t—I can’t. He is too strong and lucky for me, instead of whipping his cock out of his boxers and shoving it in me like I know Awake Brandon wants to do so badly, Sleep Brandon buries his face in my pussy.
All the fight in me evaporates and my mind blanks at the delicious sensation of his lips on my most sensitive parts, his tongue beginning to flicker over my folds.
All I can do is lay back and enjoy my best friend lapping at my pussy, arching and twisting as he masterfully licks me into a frenzy, torturing me with his skillful mouth.
I can’t help myself as I moan in pleasure from his teases, his tongue grazing my clit here and licking at my entrance there. His lips pull at me hungrily and his tongue wags at my desperate, aching parts until they can’t take it anymore, and his mouth takes me to explosive completion, my hips thrusting upwards to take the last bit of pleasure from him.
I can’t think when it’s all over as my brain shuts down, but eventually, I remember what usually comes next and I wonder if he’s going to take me right here, right now, while completely under the grip of sleep.
I realize I don’t mind the idea at all—it means I can have my cake and eat it too.
My suddenly hot buddy can fuck my brains out and satisfy this burning need I have, and in the morning, we get to still be just friends, with him not realizing what we’ve done.
I can keep a secret, and I know I’ll have to. I don’t think he can handle things changing in this way between us, and while I’d be happy to keep things casual despite knowing him intimately, if Brandon finds out about what we’ve done, everything will change, and I don’t want anything to change.
As I eagerly adjust myself to encourage him to continue, he finally pulls his head away from my throbbing center, extracting his body from the couch, then calmly starts walking back toward his bedroom.
I stare after him in shock.
III.
BRANDON
Man, I had a vivid dream about Lola last night—I even awake with a faint taste of pussy on my lips.
Morning wood is here to greet me this morning after those filthy fantasies, and I know I need to figure out a plan fast to get Lola in my bed and satisfy my needy dick.
I can flash my new money around, but would that work with her? I told her I made a good investment, but what I meant was, I invested five dollars in lotto tickets and ended up with a winning one.
Now that I have millions at my disposal, I can take care of Lola’s every need, but how do I convince her of that?
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the shower turning on.
I relax back into the bed, grab my dick, and prepare to service myself at the thought of beautiful Lola in the shower, water dripping down her soft, curvy body, making pathways down her ample boobs, her abdomen, dripping from her sweet pussy lips.
I tug at myself more furiously.
My fantasy gets more elaborate, and I’m suddenly there in the shower with her, taking in her wet body with my eyes, then taking one of her breasts in my mouth. One of my hands finds its way to a juicy ass cheek and I squeeze it, then lower myself until I am facing her womanly core. I start to lick her, making her moan deliciously, delighting in hearing her whisper my name as her hands grab at my hair and her center gets wetter as she pulls me closer.
Then I imagine her stopping my tongue teases to offer me the same, bending to enclose her juicy mouth over my hard, raging cock.
Soon, I guide her to stand back up, then turn her around and make her plant her hands on the shower wall as she bends her juicy ass toward me.
Then I guide my dick to her slick entrance, burying myself in her pussy from behind, and I start to plow her mercilessly until I’m pumping warm, creamy fluid into her.
My hands furiously work at my throbbing cock, and I am soon spilling my seed on my bed.
The shower turns off and I stay in place until I’m sure Lola is dressed.
I strip my sheets, preparing to change them for tonight so Lola has a clean set to lay on if we make it back here.
Chances are, though, I’ll end up fucking her on that couch.
“Hope I didn’t do anything weird in my sleep,” I say as we face each other, picking up the Denny’s menu.
Lola looks at me strangely and I don’t know what to make of it.
“Wait, did I?” I ask, suddenly concerned.
“Oh, you came out and got some water,” she says casually, but her manner says otherwise. She seems nervous, and I realize she sort of stuttered her words, but I’m not sure what that means.
Did I scare her somehow?
I ask her aloud and she shakes her head.
“You were the perfect gentleman,” she says with a sly sort of smile.
“See? I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” I say, but an idea suddenly occurs to me.
I’ve already told her to expect strange actions. I’ve already primed her for uncharacteristic behavior from me. Basically, I had already planted one seed, and later tonight, using all the acting skills I can muster, I’ll plant another.
Lola is finally going to get what’s been coming to her for a long time now that I’ve finally figured out how to pull it off.
I have to wait a while.
Lola disappears for the day, then when she returns in the evening, I treat her to a very nice dinner.
“Must’ve been a damned good investment,” she says, and I bite my tongue so I don’t mention my new financial status. To be honest, I don’t care if she uses me for my money if it means I get to be with her for a while, and I get a real chance to win her heart. I only want to see a small indication, a spark of interest from her first so that I don’t expect the worst the whole time I’m with her.
Then again, considering my plans, I plan to keep Lola in my life in a way that won’t allow her to get away from me as easily.
When we get back to my place, we hang out a bit longer, watching TV, then I prepare to retire to my bedroom.
I’m not sure if it’s in my head or not, but Lola gives me a sort of wistful look as I leave, like she’s not ready for me to go yet.
But that’s part of my plan too—always leave her wanting more.
I read a book for a bit, waiting for the sound of the TV turning off, then I wait a bit longer.
Finally, after hours of waiting for the right moment, I make my way to the kitchen.
Step one: go for water while appearing to be in a daze.
Step two: go for Lola.
I can feel Lola’s eyes on me as I go through the motions.
She seems slightly nervous but quite aware and very interested.
I finish drinking the water, put my glass down then look in her direction.
She is breathing hard—like she’s expecting something to go down.
I walk toward her, a ball of nerves myself, but then Lola does the most wondrous thing, almost knocking me completely out of character: she relaxes back into the couch, opening her legs so that I can see her pussy. She decided to sleep with just a T-shirt on, I see.
My cock springs to attention.
I get the feeling she wants me to lick her there so I indulge her, bending to her sweet core, unable to believe what is happening.
Is this a dream after all?
Either way, I have no intention of stopping.
I lap at her until I can’t take it anymore, then I prepare to stuff my
cock in her, but she grabs my shoulders in a sort of stopping gesture.
Too bad she thinks she can actually stop me.
I continue to play up my dazed state while I pull her shirt off.
She had still been fairly calm until I did that.
“Brandon!” she whispers in a sort of panicked voice.
I bend my head to her neck and feel her lean her head back as she moans.
She still struggles against me a bit, but she has no chance of getting loose from my grip on her wrists, and no chance of throwing me.
She is trapped beneath me.
“Brandon, wait, wake up!” she says. “I’ve changed my mind!”
I have no idea what she’s talking about and I don’t care.
Instead, I hover over her in response, preparing to take her at last.
I’m already naked since I didn’t want to make too much work for myself, and I part her legs so that I can rest between them.
“Oh my god,” she says, “this will change everything for me!”
She tries to get loose again.
Good luck with that.
My cock is hard and throbbing, demanding I get inside of her at once.
But now that her lovely breasts are exposed to me, I want a taste, so I bend to suck on each of them.
“Oh my god,” she whimpers, accepting each lick and suck, her moans and gasps driving me crazy.
Her skin is so soft, and the scent of her makes my cock throb even more.
Too many of my senses are being stimulated, and I truly can’t take it anymore.
“Brandon!” she whispers one last time, and I distract her by bringing my lips down on hers. As I begin to explore her warm, wet mouth with mine, my dick finds her other warm, wet mouth and I push myself into her.
She arches her back in response and we both let out a groan, mine filled with pleasure.
I slide in some more, making her take every inch of me, then I start moving in and out of her slick, welcoming canal, her walls clutching at me and making me want to fuck her even harder.
