Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Like A Blue Shell:>Ep1

Intro: Two couples compete, but will they cheat? Read and enjoy..

"Ah, the blue shell. There may be no better metaphor for the bleakness of life. One minute you're cruising along, on top of the world, and then... BAM, you're totally hosed. Just when you thought you had it in the bag, life throws a blue shell." - Kotaku

"Oh fffffffFFFUCK!"

Tim's girlfriend Taylor writhed and shook as she drove herself down on his cock. God DAMN that girl was amazing. Watching the lithe brunette work herself up and down -- her little titties wobbling, brown hair flinging into her face -- just looking was almost enough to make Tim cum. Let alone the splendid snatch currently squeezing his cock so wet and wonderful.

I am the luckiest man alive, Tim thought.

Taylor wasn't a supermodel, but she had a pretty face and a tight body with a mischievous smile that just made her oh so wantable. Tim had long ago decided that this was it: Taylor was "the one." He hadn't proposed or anything -- they were both only 24 -- but Tim knew. He'd never be with anyone else.

"Oh God I'm going to cum so fucking HARD!" Taylor cried. Her motions slowed and she leaned forward. She dragged her long, tight nipples through Tim's thick chest hair.

"M... me too," he groaned. "Just warn me when, OK?"

Taylor was so close, Tim didn't want to stop her now. But he could feel his pleasure racing breakneck and he couldn't exactly stop that either. Tim knew that filling her up with his fertility was not an option. No matter how badly his body was demanding he should.

Usually they used condoms but that morning had come out of nowhere. They'd woken up and suddenly Taylor was on top of him -- stroking his dick, nipping at his neck.

"Oh..." Taylor was back up on her haunches, driving her perfect ass down like a fucking fuck machine. "Oh... Here it... Here it..."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

*

Taylor fell off Tim like he was a mechanical bull at the bar. God dammit she'd been right on the edge when that stupid fucking... KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Well whoever the fuck it was, they were fucking persistent, Taylor thought.

She looked back at her boyfriend, wistfully. Just one more second on that wonderful cock and she'd... Well it wasn't too late yet, Taylor thought, she'd just get rid of whoever was at the door and then get right back to where she'd left off. "That's probably Steve," Tim said, "Man, he's really early, though."

Wait. What?

"Remember?" Tim said, now standing and stretching, "I told you they were coming over to watch football today. Steve and his new girlfriend. I can't remember her name."

This day just kept getting worse. Steve was a friend of Tim's from work. Steve thought he was funny and knew he was handsome and it made Taylor want to stomp his head like an overripe grapefruit. Except the grapefruit was probably smarter than Steve and, thus, probably worth preserving.

Taylor threw on her jeans from the night before and pulled on a sweater. She felt her pussy squelching as she walked through the living room. Her whole body was still screaming for it's hard-earned release and Taylor was already coming up with clandestine plans to sneak into the bathroom and rub her aching sex to sleep once the guests were settled.

For now, though, Taylor quickly dragged her hand through her hair, put on her smile, and swung open the front door.

"Swifty!" Steve cried and threw open his long, athletic arms for a hug. His turtleneck was scratchy and his cologne -- a scent that Taylor had quietly nicknamed Molestieur -- smothered whatever remained of Taylor's good mood. Taylor kind of understood why Tim liked Steve -- it had to feel like hanging out with one of the popular kids. But Taylor hated the popular kids and that's why she'd never hung out with them.

Taylor finally extricated herself and then gestured for Steve to come into the apartment. A girl with blonde hair and apple-pink cheeks followed him. The girl was cute, Taylor supposed. She waved in Taylor's direction and then looked at the ground. Taylor couldn't decide if she was shy or exceptionally rude. Knowing Steve's type, probably the latter.

"Sydney, this is Swifty," Steve said and Taylor bristled.

Swifty. Steve's little 'pet' nickname for her. Of all the things Taylor hated about Steve, she liked this least of all. She didn't even look like Taylor Swift -- more like Avril Lavigne if she were forced to pick. Taylor didn't like Swift's music, either. Or, really, anything about the poppy, overly popular blonde. But since she was named Taylor, that was enough for Steve. Thus with the Swifty.

Taylor got out some beers, then busied herself in the kitchen while Steve flipped on the TV. Taylor could tell, though, that Steve wasn't watching the screen. He was really looking her way. Like he could somehow see exactly what she'd been doing before he'd knocked.

It made Taylor feel ill, but it was also a bit of a thrill. She'd gone from burning hot to freezing cold in a matter of minutes and the drop had left her with the shivers.

*

Tim did his best to wash the sex scent off and then went into the living room to greet his guests. He found Taylor standing in the open kitchen, absently wiping down a completely clean countertop. Steve, his work friend, was recumbent on the couch, watching some reality thing about chefs marooned in the Arctic.

Tim noticed none of this. His eyes locked in one place: the young blonde sitting next to Steve.

"Oh hey," Steve said, "Glad you could join us. This is Sydney."

Oh. My. GOD. Sydney was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Blue eyes big and bright. Tim thought Taylor was beautiful. But this buxom blonde? She made his sultry soul mate seem almost shabby.

Sydney had long blonde hair like spun gold that hung down to her shoulder blades, while Taylor's was mousy brown and cut just below her jawline. Sydney had big, bee-stung lips while Taylor had thin pink lines. And while both women were about the same height -- five three or so -- Sydney's bust had to be at least triple Taylor's. Tim's brunette girlfriend was barely a B-cup on her best day, which meant that Sydney had to be a... God. Tim couldn't even put a letter on it. Steve subtly eyed Taylor while she glared at Tim who was clearly entranced by Sydney who seemed to look at anything except anyone. It was late fall in Boston. The TV was blaring, the beers were out, and while everyone was looking, no one saw where they were headed.