Winter Warmer

Laughing in the back seat, the lights of the city night wash over the windows of the taxi as we speed home. It must be nearly Christmas: the kindly driver allowing to carry one passenger extra, though it’s resulted in my friend’s girlfriend ending up on my lap as we all squeeze in.

I look out across the river as we cross the bridge; it looks oily and thick as it glistens darkly below us. The world seems empty; empty, cold and still. But that’s outside, inside I’m busy adopting a studied nonchalance to the girl, A, sat warmly in my lap. Considering her lover, my friend, B, is sat tightly next to me, it seems the thing to do.

So, I sit and gaze at the world of dark and light as it blurs past the window, at the street lamps that line the way which are shrouded with ghostly, and unreal, orange haloes, or at the car’s dashboard of strangely pretty, scattered illuminations.

A keeps apologising to me for being so heavy, which, of course, she isn’t. I tut and mention something about dysmorphia and such sillinesses. She looks down at me with a sweet smile, her cool eyes catching some light. They seem grey usually, but up close I can now see that they have a pale, clear blueness shimmering deep within them; like sapphires under ice.

I become more attuned to the weight and the warmth of her body. My arm circles her back with my hand holding her on the curve of her hip. The thinness of her dress. My thumb slides over by the top of her thigh. The feel of her leg under my hand.

B chuckles beside me and tells her that as I’ve ended the night with a girl in my lap I’m happy. I smile and stare out into the subdued street.
The rest of our party disperse to their homes nearby once we reach journey’s end. I don’t live nearby so I’m taking my friend’s couch.

Inside the flat we settle down in the tall room of his lounge and a bottle of fine malt whiskey is opened. A little winter warmer to chase the chill away.
The effect is quick!
Talk becomes loose and soon confessions of indiscressions tumble forth. All good fun, but I get slightly taken aback when it is confessed that the two of them recently shared a bed with a female friend - a pretty, slight eighteen year old I had briefly met earlier in the evening. Well there's a turn up!

Yes, it stunned me a little but I didn't show it - you'd have been proud of me. Still I couldn’t help the damn inevitable gnaw of envy at my mate’s luck, especially as he sat back with a tiny smile of self-congratulation playing on his lips.

Fair play.

I always feel a little irritated when the phrase “and one thing led to another” is used to quickly seal together the start and end of someone’s story of sexual conquest, as in: “so I just got chatting to this girl at my grandmother’s funeral and, well, one thing led to another and I soon had her hog-tied and swinging from the rafters back and forth onto a carefully positioned dildo” and you think, waitaminute, waitaminute… what the hell happened in-between?

Anyway.
Well, one thing led to another and soon enough A was naked on all fours with my cock in her mouth and B taking her from behind.
Okay, I was in a bit of a headswim during this time but there was some business where I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when A rushed in unaware, presumably, that I was in there. Clutching some bed clothes to her bosom but ineffectively covered from the waist down. Of course I tried not to notice, but I did find out she was a natural strawberry blonde at least.
She didn’t seem too fazed by our encounter herself, but, hey, European girls. Then again she was too busy giggling and giving my underwear clad arse cheek a cheeky squeeze. Flirtatious talk has greater weight when you are both nearly naked and her eyes are openly travelling up and down your body.

So, soon I’m led by the hand to her bedroom. Yes, there’s some awkwardness between my friend and I, but we both go cautiously along with the moment. Bedclothes discarded, A embraces me with a kiss, hands sliding under waistband and my tight black boxers pushed down my legs.

And now I’m wondering. I’ve never seen my friend naked before, and he certainly has never seen me naked and aroused and ready to fuck his girlfriend. How will this affect our friendship, what will it alter? Things will be different form now on, but for better or worse. But, as usual, the now, the moment, carries us along and we seem unwilling or unable to resist.

I can’t help but notice his body, and compare: he’s thicker set than me, stronger but he has a paunch and flabbiness on his chest and backside. From a glance his cock seems quite fat but maybe shorter, certainly more knobbly looking and ugly compared to the elegant line of my own. What surprises me though is the shortness of his pubic hair: cut right down to little more than a designer stubble in a neatly kept halo. I now rue not having trimmed mine recently.

A seems unconcerned, naturally. She’s grinning like a girl with two dicks, as well she might. Rubbing the two of us with one hand each, lightly laughing and wiggling her bottom. “Horny boys!” she growls, with that accent, and now we laugh along.

Her thumb knuckle rubs a lucky spot and my libido is well away. But still, mentally, I’m keeping a distance, taking the lead from both of them, not wishing to traverse any no-go areas. I follow carefully.

The moonlight tan of her skin glows in the soft light. Candles line up on near surfaces, flames flicker and dance. A strange shadow theatre is cast along the walls.

A’s nipples are rosy pink buds and seem eager to be tasted as she stretches out along the bed, B already feasting on the full bloom between her legs. I’m not sure if I want to her his noises or not, I just wish the music was a little louder so it might take the edge off my awareness of such things.

I kiss A’s tits then kiss her milky throat, my hand kneading at a breast and pulling on the nipple. Softly moaning. She snakes and arm around and between my legs and does similar to my taut cock and balls. A little bit too rough with the balls, to be honest, but never mind.

I get to wonder if B isn’t zealously keeping her cunt all to himself, as no sooner as he finished licking it than he has A on her hands and knees and is quickly taking her from behind. I’m still feeling unsure and sit in front of her watching this scene. Nothing doing, I all but present my cock to her for acceptance. But she opens her mouth wide and away we jolly well go.

I feel she would appreciate it best if I synchronise with B and move my hips in time with his thrusts, albeit in greatly shorter strokes of course. She growls like a good ‘un, the vibrations of which I can feel right down my shaft.

The silky supple curve of her back, the outrageous roundness of her rear end. A girl with two cocks fucking her at once, she gorging herself on male sex. It was getting me going finally, but my friend had already gone. In fact he had come.

He gave the same kind of sudden cry he used for when Gerrard missed the penalty. That took me back out of it. With a comical ’pop’, A took me out of her mouth.

For the first time since entering the room I really caught his eye. My eyes said ’you’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?’.

A whimpered as she lay back down on the bed. She half twists round as she turns her face to me, with her legs scissoring wide apart, “lick it out of me” she suggests.

I’m not into it. I tell her I’m suddenly feeling really tired, which isn’t a lie, and I excuse myself. Slightly uncomfortably, we all say our goodnights. The flames gutter on the waning candles.

I lie awake on the couch for a long time before I notice the dawn is a-dawning.
I get my things and go out into a world of fog. The cold air is bracing. Huddled up in my coat I make my way to the train station.

Still dark, the dense fog clings to everything and chills me to the bone. Tired, so tired I board the train and flop into a seat. A smartly dressed, young-middle-aged lady is in the seat opposite padding at her immaculate hairdo.

Our metal box trundles along, through the grey. The street lights still glow, but more diffusely, weakly burning away in the silent gloom.

I drift off... Only to be shook awake by the train jolting, and I don’t know how long later and, as I can make out little from the window, I’m not sure where.
To my amusement, however, I catch the prim lady glancing at where my trousers have been pulled tight against my crotch. She quickly looks away and pats her hair once again.

I smile to myself, but my thoughts soon turn back to the events of the night before and whatever will become of it all. Meanwhile, outside the window, the Hound of the Baskerville eyes of a car’s headlights shine as it inches it’s way along a foggy country road.

Soon be Christmas, I sigh to myself, let‘s have some nuts.
`