by Ella Ford
I tossed Lana’s dress to the side and flicked open her bra. She pushed back against me, allowing herself to fall into my embrace. I felt her body against mine, her golden skin soft and pricked with gooseflesh. I reached around her body, touching my hands to her breasts, catching her granite nipples between my thumb and forefinger. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, lavender meadows, the promise of spring. Lana moaned, her hands stroking my nylon covered thighs.
“Take off your clothes for us, honey,” said Lana. Her voice was calm, low, utterly compelling. It wasn’t a request, it wasn’t a suggestion, it was what Lana wanted. Cindy seemed powerless to resist.
Pulling her feet up onto the bed, she lifted her bottom and unbuttoned her shorts. Her hands were trembling, she was breathing quickly, one eye on Lana’s body and me behind her, one eye on her clumsy striptease. She lifted her feet straight up into the air, holding her legs together, and slid her shorts up and off. As one, Lana and I followed the line of her legs, clad in the fine, dark weave of her pantyhose; from the gentle curve of her bottom, along her thighs to her calves and her slender ankles, to her indescribably cute feet. I felt Lana exhale and grip my leg. In turn, the hot ball of flame between my thighs intensified. My throbbing pussy radiated maddening heat out into my body. I breathed into Lana’s ear, felt her writhe beside me, pushing her head back and rubbing her cheek against mine. The need for contact was great now, the need for the completeness of intimacy.
Cindy shifted again, lifting up to a kneeling position that mirrored our own. She smiled, looking suddenly older than her years. No longer the innocent, Cindy was a woman grown now and this was her dance. She parted her knees and I glanced down. She wasn’t wearing any panties either.
Cindy caught my gaze and slipped her hand between her legs, touching two fingers to the encased geography of her pink folds. “Y’all are not the only kinky bitches in town,” she smiled and I realized we’d been played. The innocence, the girlish pretence of incredulity, all an act. Cindy was a huntress, as Lana and I had been. She wanted us as much as we wanted her. The realization thrilled me, sending jolts of electricity through my body, igniting my senses. I wanted her, this mesmerizing creature, I wanted her feet in my mouth, I wanted her skin beneath my lips, I wanted to dive between her legs, I wanted to cover her body with my tongue.
With a practiced shrug, Cindy lifted her t-shirt up her body and over her head. She tossed it to the side and it fell to the floor with our discarded dresses. Then she fixed her gaze on Lana’s face and slowly, teasingly unhooked her bra and let it fall down her arms. Her breasts were magnificent. Perfect orbs of cream flesh, pink nipples taut with the thrill of the moment.
“Will I…,” she began, fluttering her eyes at us, “will I do?”
I heard Lana exhale and felt the steady jackhammer of her heart. She was warm, chest heaving up and down, breasts moving beneath my fingers.
“Oh, honey,” purred Lana, “you’re beautiful.”
And with that, the tension broke. Three bodies moved in unison, shifting position, reconfiguring to begin the sensual dance that we each longed for so badly.
Time became a blur, the heady mix of wine and desire disrupting my thoughts and casting the scene as a sequence of glimpsed snapshots. The surrounding room faded into insignificance as sheer lust gripped me. I touched my hands to Cindy’s shoulders, then pushed her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath me. Then I turned to her naked breasts, licking at her nipples, sucking them like a life-giving elixir. I glanced around. Lana was at Cindy’s feet, lifting her legs, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her pantyhose. In an eyeblink, the thin nylon was gone, peeled off Cindy’s long limbs like a second skin, revealing a shock of red hair above the glistening folds of her pussy, trimmed with tender precision to a thin strip.
Lana sighed and parted her legs, tracing her fingers down the inside of Cindy’s thighs. Cindy moaned, pushing her breasts up towards my mouth, sinking her hands into my hair. Lana smiled at me, then swept her hair back and dived forward, burying herself in the sex of the other girl. I gasped, the shock of seeing my lover pleasuring another more than eclipsed by how excited it made me.
Cindy’s body went tense as Lana’s skillful tongue did its work, she cried out and pushed her head back, parting her painted lips and squeezing her eyes shut. My pussy roared, demanding attention. I needed to be sated, needed to feel what Cindy was feeling right now.
I moved, pivoting my body and swinging my legs over Cindy’s head until I was kneeling over her face. I glanced down and made eye contact with the young redhead. Her expression was one of hungry lust, her breaths came in short, quick pants. I felt her hands claw at my thighs, gripping me, pulling me down. I reached my fingers down to my pussy and playfully pressed on my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body. My pantyhose were soaked through, dripping with the hot wetness of my desire. With clawed fingers, I took hold of a bunch of the thin material and tore outwards, opening a wide portal over my sex. Cindy cried out, moaning in pleasure as my pussy was revealed to her.
Without thinking, without conscious thought, I lowered myself, covering her mouth and nose with me wet flesh, burying her in me. I wanted her tongue on me, inside me, and she didn’t disappoint, moving quickly with practised strokes. This was not the innocent virgin that I’d found in the bar, Cindy was a seasoned pro, a skilled lover with a hungry tongue.
I felt her lick around me, exploring slowly at first, finding her bearings. I reached down, gripping her hair, pulling her head upwards towards me. She didn’t resist, only quickened her pace to match the urgent grind of my hips. She found my clit, pushing down on it, pressing it, shifting it with skillful strokes of her tongue. I cried out and glanced over my shoulder.
Lana was as deep into Cindy as Cindy was into me. The golden mop of her honey hair bobbed up and down, her eyes were closed. Cindy’s thighs were wrapped around my lover’s head, feet crossed on her back. Lana’s ass was high in the air, swaying from side to side with the rhythm of her mouth.
Cindy pushed her tongue into me and I turned back to her. I sighed. “Ah, shit, yes,” I said, reaching up and roughly kneading my breasts. My nipples ached, my chest and neck felt like molten steel. My vision became blurred and I felt a familiar presence in my pussy. All I could think of was Cindy’s mouth, Cindy’s tongue, Cindy’s pale skin and red hair. My hips began to move, faster and faster, grinding my sex into Cindy’s face, using her to heighten the sensations that roared through my body. She began to moan and pant, muffled sounds from between my legs.
Then she came, fast and hard, gripping my legs and pushing down on my clit, triggering my own orgasm. “Oh, shit,” I said, reaching back with one hand, finding Lana’s fingers and gripping her tightly. White heat roared through me, my vision collapsed to a black tunnel. I pushed myself down on Cindy, smothering her, feeling her slick skin against my legs.
The sensation faded quickly, but I had a taste for it now.
The triplet reconfigured. I became the director of this sordid scene.
Swinging my leg around, I crawled to Lana and pushed her to the bed, flipping her over, pinning her down as I’d pinned Cindy down before her. I moved between her legs and she sighed in anticipation, watching me as I moved, parting her knees, dancing the dance that we knew so well.
“I want to see her on your face,” I said, breathless, pointing at Cindy as she rolled over. Her face was flushed red, her hair was damp and sticky. The wetness of my pussy made her cheeks glisten in the dim candlelight. Cindy nodded and blinked. She seemed dazed, confused, lost in her own world of post-orgasmic bliss.
I turned back to Lana’s sex and ripped my way through her pantyhose. I was unstoppable, a sexual force that would see no barrier stand in my way. Cindy moved to Lana’s head and mounted her face, not even pausing for breath. Her body was facing me, she watched me with hungry, wide eyes, caressing her own nipples as Lana’s face disappeared between her legs.
Lana’s familiar pussy gaped before me.
She reached a hand down with autonomic movements, spreading her lips apart with two fingers, revealing the delicious feast of pink flesh to me. I dipped down, nudging her hand aside, plunging my tongue into her, lapping at her, licking her. She screamed out, a familiar cry of pleasure. Her body went tense, legs closing around my body, hand gripping my hair. I glanced up. Cindy was in a different place now, eyes closed, body moving with a sultry rhythm, riding Lana’s face. The sight of her moving on Lana thrilled me to unimaginable levels, sending waves of pleasure out from my pussy, making my entire body tingle.
The hot tryst continued, limbs and tongues working in efficient harmony, thrilling, teasing, probing. Cindy came first, exploding on Lana’s face, crying out with a silent scream. Every muscle in her slender neck erupted from her flesh like cords of steel. Her face flushed angry red and her hands reached down and gripped Lana’s breasts. Then she fell to the side, panting, rolling into a ball, unable to take the debilitating sensations that held her body in thrall.
I sensed Lana’s approaching orgasm, recognizing the minute change in her body like a familiar neighborhood. The quick cadence of her breath, the tiny tremors in her muscles, the way she gripped me tighter and tighter, the feeling of her toes curling on my back. I quickened my tongue, moving in ways that seemed like instinct to me, charting ground long since conquered. I knew what she wanted, I knew what she needed, I knew exactly how to get where she needed to be.
Seconds after Cindy’s explosive climax, Lana’s body rocked back and forth. She cried out. “Oh, shit, baby, yes, yes,” she said. Her legs rose around me, her hands touched the top of my head and pushed me down. “Ah, ah, ah,” she panted and I glanced up to see her face held in a mask of utter pleasure. Then she relaxed, releasing the tension in her body with a long sigh. Her legs and arms fell limp around her, her body becoming like that of a ragdoll.
I sat up and back on my knees, peering at the spent bodies of Lana and Cindy, both lying together before me, eyes closed. Cindy’s pale skin and red hair, Lana’s tanned body and honey blonde curls. Two delightful dolls, so different, so desirable in their own ways. I realized with a sigh that I wasn’t satisfied, I wasn’t done, I could go all night if need be, alternating our positions, shifting permutations of the female form, orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.
I crawled along the bed, touching my hand to Lana’s body. She shivered at my caress and watched me approach. I moved between them, feeling hungry, predatory, needing one of them to give me the sweet release of climax once more. I touched Cindy, teasing my hand over her pussy. She opened her eyes and smiled at me, her mouth still sticky wet from my pussy. I moved to her, lowering my head, needing to taste my sex on her sweaty skin. I licked across her lips, overwhelmed by the salty taste of her and myself. We fell into a kiss, moving without thinking, tongues and lips moving together in a familiar choreography of pure need. We danced together, probing, exploring, tasting, enjoying this exquisite intimacy. Her lipstick tasted sweet and sticky and enticingly unfamiliar. She was the only girl except Lana that I’d ever been with and I wanted to know her totally and utterly.
I pulled back, panting breathlessly, intending to do the same to Lana. Cindy gazed up at me with adoring eyes.
I turned to Lana… but something was wrong, something had changed. Lana had pulled back against the headboard of the bed. Her soft expression of post-orgasmic bliss had been replaced by something else, an expression that turned my blood to ice water in my veins. A half remembered conversation rose in my mind as suddenly as the warm tears that rose in Lana’s eyes. She furrowed her brow and sighed, sounding weary and hurt, then shook her head in disbelief. I glanced at Cindy and she glanced back at me, confused, unable to know what was happening between the two lovers who had seduced her.
I turned back to Lana, but she was already moving, shuffling off the bed, hurrying across the floor to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and my life changed forever.
When I woke the following morning, Lana was gone. There had been barely any words between us the previous night, only sullen silence to fill the void where Cindy had been. I knew what I had done, how I’d hurt her, how I’d stolen a kiss in the heat of the moment and betrayed the only thing I loved in the world. Yet I’d tried to play it cool, aloof, minimizing the importance of the betrayal, calling her childish for making such a big thing of it, making the situation worse. Lana had said nothing.
She moved out later in the week, taking a spare bed with one of her friends. She said she needed time alone, to think, to work out what she wanted. I nodded along numbly, giving her what she asked for, hoping against hope that things would sort themselves out, that we could get back to where were before.
But we never did. At least, not for a very long time.
Chapter 3
World of Warcraft, bare legs
Without conscious thought or action, I fell into the dark period of my life, the period that hurts to talk about, so I’ll keep this brief.
Without Lana, college became a humdrum slog of meaningless social encounters and classes that had increasingly little meaning. She was still around, that was the worst part. I’d occasionally glimpse her across the quad or approaching me along a corridor. I’d flash her a sad smile, hoping to connect, hoping to rekindle something of what I knew to still be there. But she’d always look away, always take a sharp right turn whenever she saw me.
After two months, I heard that she was dating again and I felt the bitter stab of love’s betrayal. I withdrew into myself, locking myself in my room and listening to maudlin rock dirges. When the college assigned me a new roommate, a pretty little Texan called Jodie, she lasted three nights with the dark beast that I’d become before she applied for a room transfer. I didn’t care, I enjoyed the solitude. Eventually, the college decided to wait it out, to hold on for me to graduate, rather than dealing with the difficult problem of how to re-socialise me.
In my seclusion, I found myself changing, casting off all the trappings of my old life, because the mental reaction to their nostalgic stimulus was too much. I sold all of the games consoles that Lana and I had painstakingly amassed, offloading them to some incredulous looking teen for a rock bottom price. I just wanted them to be gone. I bundled up the pantyhose and stockings that had been our shared obsession and took them down to the abandoned land behind the admin block. I weeped as I smelled her perfume still thick on them, trying not to think of how her legs and feet looked in that gossamer thin material. Then I burned them, the cremation of our dead love.
I changed my look, becoming grungy and unkempt, preferring jeans to skirts and dresses, flannel shirts instead of crisp t-shirts. I let my dark hair grow out, then dyed it darker, painting my face in dark scarlets and brooding black. When I trudged from class to class, building to building, people moved out of my way, stepping aside to avoid confrontation with the walking storm cloud that was approaching.
And in this dark period, in this exquisite blackness, I never once wore pantyhose or tights. I couldn’t. Pantyhose were our thing, Lana’s thing. The very act of slipping into the silky soft hose or the feel of them against my skin was too loaded with memory that I could no more have worn them alone than I could have flown to the moon.
Life became a constant act of endless repression, pushing back the memory of sensation to the back of my mind: the memory of her hair, golden and radiant; the memory of her pretty little toes, their taste, their smell; the memory of her perfect sex, framed beneath microscopic gauze, the wide-eyed expression on her face and she pleaded with me to…
I graduated with little fanfare, achieving a mediocre degree with an almost begrudging shrug from my college tutors. I didn’t go to my graduation. Lana would be there, I knew she would, graduation was just her kind of scene.
Instead, on the day I should have donned cap and gown, I holed up in a lesbian bar downtown and started drinking early. At ten pm, I staggered out into the night, arm in arm with a woman whose name I don’t remember and probably never even knew,
whose face I couldn’t picture if I tried.
We went to her hotel room, dizzy with booze and mutual desire. We didn’t talk, barely made it out of the elevator before we were clawing at each other, grabbing each other, desperately staggering along the corridor on precarious heels.
We entered her room, slamming the door behind us, mouths pressed together, tongues dancing, fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers. I pushed her back onto the bed, standing over her like a giant, eyes narrowed, studying her slight frame. I wanted to fuck so badly, I remember that much at least. I wanted to ride her face, to come on her, to ram my hand into her pussy until she begged me to stop.
But as she sat back, a look of nervous, halting excitement on her face, her heel slid off her foot, revealing the muted tan of the pantyhose she wore beneath her slacks. I exhaled, feeling a familiar excitement and a familiar sting. I sat down beside her and took her foot. It was warm, damp, acrid with the stench of her. It made me hungry, achingly so. I lifted her ankle and marvelled at the shape of it, at the curve of her arch, at the line of her toes, perfectly painted in bright red.
Then she pulled away and drew her knees up to her chest.
“Ew,” she grimaced, “what are you doing?”
“I-I just wanted to… taste you,” I said, crawling towards her.
“You can taste me, honey,” she scolded, “but not there, okay?”
She looked uncomfortable, uncertain, momentarily knocked out of the dreamy daze of mutual desire. My heart sank and an image of Lana rose in my mind. Lana sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Lana in tan pantyhose and no panties, naked otherwise, bathed in the golden light of a late fall day, grinning at me over her knees, holding her stocking foot out to me, flexing her toes back and forth.
