Message-ID: <63888asstr$1489918202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: Larry Twitmore <larrytwitmore@yahoo.com> Reply-To: Larry Twitmore <larrytwitmore@yahoo.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <1125610911.2329357.1489770791727@mail.yahoo.com> References: <1125610911.2329357.1489770791727.ref@mail.yahoo.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2017 17:13:11 +0000 (UTC) Subject: {ASSM} My Best Friend Bex (MF) Lines: 184 Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2017 06:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2017/63888> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge MY BEST FRIEND BEX by Larry Twitmore You ever have one of those best friends from high school that you carried a torch for, but they didn't return the feeling? That was me and Becky - Bex for short. Everyone thought we'd be perfect for each other, including me, and her parents, and all our friends... everyone but Bex. As we got into college and adulthood, that torch of my own burned brighter. The fans were flamed as it were by some of our activities. For a while I wanted to learn how to draw, and Bex modeled for me, completely nekkid. We'd also watch porn together, with our clothes on, watching porn the way you'd watch a normal movie, critiquing the performances and the camera choices. But still, she didn't want anything other than my friendship. I got sore about it, I got angry. I was convinced that she was teasing me and leading me on. I was a dumb kid. Eventually I grew up and realized was a sexist ass I was being and that you can't debate someone into liking you. It's not a logical thing. She was a human being who wanted what she wanted, and I wasn't entitled to anything, I didn't "deserve" to date her. So, Bex and I were best friends for years, but it never went any further. Well. I shouldn't say "never". Because there was this one time when we both just turned thirty, where fifteen years of lust was sated, then never spoken of again. So, Bex came over to my place to hang one day when she was between husbands, and she was looking particularly gorgeous. Bex always wore tight shirts that practically strangled her big ol' boobs and that failed to cover her midriff. She had somehow managed to maintain just the right amount of baby-fat over the years to qualify as "fleshy" without ever tipping over into being overweight. (Though I think even if she had gone full-blown BBW she'd still take my breath away.) That night was no different: tight white tee, thin enough that I could see the contours of her bra underneath, even if I couldn't make out the color or any other detail. Skirt that stopped just below the knee, long high-heeled boots. But her hair is what made that night different. About half-way through college, Bex started dying her hair about once a month or so, going through various shades both natural and adventurous. And that night, she had gone blonde, platinum blonde, Jean Harlow blonde. And so I said to her, somewhat innocently, that she looked really good tonight. Really gorgeous. "Yeah?" she said, placing her hands under her jugs and giving them a sarcastic, perfunctory jiggle. I rolled my eyes. "It's your hair, mostly." "My hair?" "You're a hot blonde," I shrugged. "I mean, you look good no matter what, but you've always been hottest as a blonde." "What, you think it makes me look like a bimbo or something? "Nah," I said. "It's the way it reflects who you are. Back in high school, when you were a brunette, everyone thought you were kind of mousy and shy. I even thought you were mousy and shy before I got to know you better. But when you're blonde, you have this sort of confidence, like a rock star. And that's really hot." "Well, I'm not going to argue with that." "In fact, I'm kinda getting turned on," I admitted. "I might have to go to the bathroom and rub one out." "You're going to go jerk off in the bathroom while I'm sitting here?" Bex cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh, please. You did worse when I was in the next room." And that was true. She used to come over to my place with her boyfriends since she couldn't take them home to her parents' house, and they'd banish me outside of my own room while they fucked on my sheets. She covered her face in embarrassment. "I was such a jerk." "I mean, no more than I was," I said. I got up. "You're really going to the bathroom?" "So, you'll be thinking about me when you're doing it?" "Not necessarily. I mean, if you see something that turns you on, in a movie or when you're out or whatever, and you go home and take care of it, either solo or with your S.O., you're not necessarily going to be thinking about whatever you say. You move on from the appetizer to the main course." "It's alright if you do think about me," she offered. "I know you've done it before." "Well, maybe I will then." "It's kind of thrilling," she said, "the thought of someone thinking about me while they're wanking it. I wouldn't mind seeing that." I wasn't sure where this was going, but my cock was pretty desperate to let it play out. "Then, I don't need to go to the bathroom," I said, settling back into my chair. I undid my pants and slid them down to my knees, then pulled my throbbing cock out of my underwear through the flaps. I began with light strokes, fingertips sliding up the length of it from the base, causing it to harden and stiffen. Then I formed a circle with my thumb and prime finger only, working just those two up and down the head and the shaft. The whole time, I was looking at her. Bex sat on the floor and looked right back at me. "Are you thinking of me while you're doing it?" "Yes." "Tell me. Tell me what you're thinking about." "I'm thinking about your mouth," I said. "I'm thinking about what it tastes like. I'm thinking about how your tongue feels in my mouth and against my lips. I'm thinking about how hot and warm it is in your mouth. How your mouth feels against my mouth. How your mouth feels on my cock. "I'm thinking about your eyes," I continued. "I'm thinking about you looking up at me with those big brown eyes while you work your mouth up and down my dick. "I'm thinking about your shirt. About it coming off. I'm thinking about your bra. I'm wondering what color it is. If it's frilly. If I can see your nipples straining against the fabric." "It's blue, and yes, and yes," she said softly. "Then I'm thinking about your tits. I haven't seen them in years, but I remember what they look like. About how they feel in my mouth. About whether I'm going to suck on your nipples hard, or tease them with my tongue." "You're going to tease them," she commanded. She spread her legs and slid her thong up her thighs. Then she started to play with her pussy. "I'm thinking about that pussy that you're playing with," I said. "I'm thinking about you crawling over here and sliding on top of my cock. I'm thinking about you bouncing on top of me. I'm thinking about your tits in my face. I'm thinking about you screaming obscenities." "Fuck me harder!" Bex said it loudly, perhaps too loudly, and we both stopped and laughed. Then, more quietly: "Feed me that fucking meat, baby. Get it in there deep. Deeper. Deeper." "I'm thinking about all this come," I said. "Where do you want it? In your cunt? On your tits? In your mouth? On your face?" "I want it in my cunt," she said hoarsely. "I want it in there now. Don't waste a drop." Suddenly, and without warning, she grabbed her thong and worked it down the rest of her legs, struggling with her heels. After a moment, she tossed it on the floor. Then Bex looked at me with those big brown eyes, serious as a heart attack, and said: "I mean it. You better fuck me right now." "You, you," I stammered. "Now," she said. I practically leapt on top of her. My dick slid right into her red-hot snatch. It was wet like summer, wet like a fever dream. I kissed her like I had wanted to kiss her for fifteen years. Her mouth tasted vaguely like licorice. And of course my hands fumbled and groped her tits over her frilly blue bra and her tight white tee. Six strokes and I was done. She dug her heels into my ass cheeks and grabbed me by the hair. "Don't waste a drop." I didn't. "This will never happen again," she said. And it didn't. Nothing really changed between us, and we're still friends to this day. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+