Dare Me

    Sue didn't have to wait very long. Not twenty minutes after coming, Cal was raring to go another round. Since she was still sore from the shower, though, she managed to convince him to wait a while longer while she caught her breath and got something to drink.
    "No, I'll get it." Cal eased her back under the sheets and leaped out of bed. "Rest up. You'll need it."
    Sue watched his retreat, her gaze fixed on his nicely sculpted backside. Oh, if Sharyn could see him now, all tightened muscles and smooth skin, a body that belonged to a much younger man. Poor Marty wouldn't stand a chance.
    She leaned over the mattress and pulled the remaining length of thick comforter drooping over the side up to her chin. If Sharyn could see her now, she'd have a fit. Her, Simple Sue, rolling around with a hunky musician, shennanigans in the shower aplenty. Such an image hardly befit the once chubby, shy girl from Dareville High who stayed home on Saturday nights taking pictures of her stuffed animals for practice for her future as a photographer, but here she was.
    "Me," escaped the soft word from her lips. Was it really her in this bed? Was it really Sue Carmichael that Cal had made love to this time? He had called out her name, yes, and offered detailed attention to her body, but was he really seeing her? Was there a chance that Ellie's face, and her firmer breasts and flat belly, were superimposed over Sue's more ample offerings in his mind?
    Possible, she thought, and were it the truth Sue could hardly blame him. Ellie was gorgeous, always was. In high school she and her cousin Claire had been the "it" girls, persued by jocks and brains alike, yet neither let her looks swell her ego. Their kindness toward everybody and light-hearted nature had only served to make them more beautiful. Sue could not blame Cal for being in love with her, if he still was.
     Her face suddenly fell. He had to be, she decided. What was she but a temporary distraction? He was on vacation, and he was going back to New York eventually. One good fuck wouldn't prompt him to move; he could get that anywhere.    more >>