Page 57 of Kitty Season
A shadow of doom slowly descends over Skip’s face. You could hear a pin drop for maybe thirty of the slowest seconds in the history of seconds, and then, “Neither. I’ve not done either. I’ve never been with anyone.”
Holy shit. All those times I made puns, or he did, and he didn’t even realize. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s cruel and insensitive.
But I am me. I am those things. So I do.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re a giant virgin? Holy fucking shit, Skip. What the hell is wrong with Australian girls? Are they blind?”
“Troye,” Quinn scolds in her sexy, bossy tone I can’t get enough of. “Don’t be mean. Maybe Brady has been waiting for the right time. Maybe this is it.”
“It is.” Poor Skip’s head could fall off with its aggressive wobble. Not sure if it’s a nod in the affirmative or a negatory shake. Could be both. “And there’s nothing wrong with the girls at home. I just never … put myself in a situation where anything would happen.”
“Yet here you are, smack bang in the middle of one where anything could.”
Brady’s eyes meet mine, one of the few times they have since we started necking.
“I didn’t trust myself. I knew I was … queer and didn’t … I guess I felt ashamed. I didn’t understand how I could be so into guys, and chicks at the same time. I was scared that if I did find someone stupid enough to touch me, I’d choose the wrong gender, not get it up, and end up looking like an even bigger flog than I already did.”
Blinking slowly, I turn to Quinn, shoot her a wink, then back to Skip. “Dude, you need to chill. Lucky I know the perfect way. Quinny, help the boy out of those pants. We need to blow that fear right out of him.”
Hips raised,back arching off the bed as Quinn slides his fancy pants down his legs. Skippy is a snack I can’t wait to devour.
“This. This was supposed to be about Quinn,” he mutters, eyes clenched together. “Kitty season, remember?”
Quinn presses her hand into the middle of Skip’s chest and gently eases him back down. “Brady, trust me. What I want right now, is to suck you down like a thick shake through a too thin straw. I wanna lick you. Taste you. Swallow you. And then?—”
“Then?”
“And then I want you to fuck me.”
Brady looks as though he may come. Or faint. Or both. It’s a sensation I’m familiar with, having experienced it several times with Quinn. The girl is a fucking rocket.
With one final tug and a little cheer, Brady’s pants are tossed to the side, exposing miles and miles of golden tanned skin, tighty-whitey anaconda-concealing Calvin’s, and calf-high white socks. Quinn moves to peel them off, and I’m quick to slap my hand over hers, “Leave ‘em. Quinny. I am a fucking slut, for white socks. It’s your turn, Kitty. Let’s peel yourself out of those slutty little shorts, and as much as it’s doing for me, the jersey, too. I’m sure Brady would like to get acquainted with these.” I point to the boobs spilling over the V neck, then duck down and suck the swell of them into my mouth.
“Fuck.” The mattress dips as Brady sits up to watch, groaning his appreciation as she smooths her hands over her stomach, slowly, tauntingly raises the jersey up over her boobs, then over her head.
Seconds later, she’s down to a tiny powder blue thong and matching bra, and Brady? Brady is a trembling, mumbling wreck of a man.
And to think. We’ve only just begun.
Ihonestly can’t believe this is happening. The virgin confession I’ve held so close to my chest it doubled as a second skin, was taken not as something I should feel shame for, but as a challenge. Now, it’s going to be over before it begins, because I’m going to come in my pants and embarrass myself.
I don’t actually have pants on, but that’s not the point.
Watching one of Quinn’s perfect breasts slide in and out of Troye’s mouth, I fidget and fist the sheets beneath me in an attempt to not blow my load and disgrace myself. It’s not easy since this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And heard.
“We’re going to make you feel so good, Brady. It will be the first time you’ve always dreamed of,” Quinn whispers between drawn out moans, with no concept of just how right she is.
Or just how thoroughly losing my virginity to the girl I love, that doesn’t love me back, will break my heart.
Oblivious to it all, she’s lying before me in lingerie designed by Lucifer himself, while I’m in my naked, bar my socks, and Troye is fully clothed.
Why that’s as hot as it is I don’t know.
Probably something I shouldn’t look too deeply into.
A glistening train of saliva stretches from Quinn’s peaked, pink nipple to Troye’s lips when with a pop, he releases a boob and turns to me. “You like what I just did to her? Well, whatQuinn’s going to do to your dick is a thousand times better. Think you can handle that?”
I nod.
