My Friends the Allens -- Reflection
by Mark Aster


"Something that happened today," said Julie lazily, lying back
and letting Pat undo the buttons of her shirt.

"What happened today?" Pat asked.  She kissed her sister's
collarbone, and opened the shirt just a bit, baring the
inner slopes of Julie's small round breasts, a smooth
pale triangle of her stomach.

"I was driving back from Suburbia, in the car, and the
windshield was fogging up.  So I turned on the little fan
that blows air onto the inside of the windshield."

"Clever girl," said Pat, quietly, slipping two fingers in
under Julie's shirt right about where one perfect pink
nipple must be.  I snorted slightly, sitting in my chair
across the room.  I'd come in from singing the twins to
sleep to find the girls necking on the couch. I could
have gone over and joined in, probably, but sometimes a
man has to be grumpy.

"And then the fog went away, except that there was this
upsidedown triangle that was still foggy, on the windshield
there."  Pat's other hand rubbed softly down Julie's stomach,
across the bare skin and the downy hair.  Julie closed her
eyes and wriggled slightly lower on the couch, her legs
spread, the short cotton skirt riding up her thighs, the
picture of innocent depravity.

"Triangle..." murmured Pat, and bent her head down over her
sister's chest.

"I noticed that the triangle was pointing at my beret that was
sitting on the dashboard, on that flat place at the bottom of
the windshield.  So I moved my beret, and mmmmm that feels nice
and then the triangle went away."  Pat was licking gently at
Julie's left nipple, and stroking her stomach with one hand.

"God, a day to remember, eh?" I said.  Too loudly.  Both girls
looked up at me, with essentially identical expressions.  Then
they turned to each other again.

"You know," said Julie, "I don't think I'm going to fuck men
anymore.  Men don't understand."  Pat grinned at her, and kissed
her lips, and their mouths opened and they did that for a long
time.  Then Pat turned half around to the side table, while
Julie untucked her shirt from her skirt.

"Here, Man," said Pat, tossing me what looked like a business
card.  I missed it, and had to get up from my chair to pick it
up.  "Go there," she said.  There was an address, and on the
back Pat's signature.  Julie sank lower on the couch, and Pat
kissed Julie's nipples, and Pat's hand began to slide up under
Julie's skirt.  Julie opened her eyes and looked at me for a
second.  "Bye!" she said.  And her eyes were as infinite and
happy as ever.

So I went.  Feeling a little ambiguous, maybe.  Sure they were
just kidding, of course.

It was an anonymous brownstone somewhere in a good neighborhood.
It looked sort of familiar somehow; anonymous things always look
familiar, I guess.  A woman answered the bell, a small dark
woman with straight hair down around her shoulders.  She smiled
at me when I gave her the card.

"An interesting case," she said, "a very interesting case."
Her lips moved in a way that made me want to kiss them.  She
walked up a long staircase ahead of me.  "Third door on the
right," she said, and went off.  The third door on the right
opened when I knocked.  The woman in the room was tall, and
lush, and naked.  She came into my arms, and I kissed her, and
she rubbed her body against me.  I pressed my hands into the
soft globes of her buttocks, and my cock swelled against her
stomach.

I woke up, naked in the bed, to soft grey light coming in
through the window.  I got up and shook my head, stretched and
yawned, looked at myself in the big full-length mirror opposite
the door.  I put my hand up to my breasts, stroked across from
nipple to nipple a few times, appreciating the softness.  For
some reason the reflection was turning me on.  I tweaked my
left nipple between my fingers, felt warmth growing between
my legs, my clit stirring.  I smiled at myself, slipped my
other hand down my stomach, and rubbed my pussy with the
back of my hand.  It was very nice.  I was just sliding a
finger up inside when the door opened.

He was tall and solid-looking, not wide, wearing shorts and
a sport shirt, barefoot.  It was good that he was here, looking
at me naked, my finger wet with my juices, my mouth open.  He
came into the room slowly and closed the door behind him.  He
walked to me, and I turned to face him.

He reached out with one hand, took my left shoulder in an easy
grip, pulled me closer to him, my nipples against the fabric of
his shirt.  I could smell him.

"We can do it slowly if you like," he said, "or fast.  Or first
fast then slow.  Or fast again and again, many times."  My skin
felt cold, my nipples clenched into stiff little fists, but my
stomach and thighs were warm, hot, liquid.  Kiss me now, I
thought at him, kiss me hard, on the mouth.  He did.

He tasted of yeast and honey, his tongue was smooth and muscular
as it slipped into my mouth and along my teeth.  His arms were
around me, holding me up, pulling my naked body against him.  I
opened my legs, pressed my pussy against his leg, rubbing myself
across him like a cat in heat.  I moaned, I must have moaned.
I was on the bed, on my back, my legs apart, panting.

"God, you are beautiful," he said to me, and I knew it was true,
I was beautiful, and he was going to have me there on the bed,
and I was going to come and come until I screamed, and I was
going to make him come inside of me.  He took off his shirt.
Looking me in the face he took off his shorts, and his penis
pointed out from a patch of thick dark hair.  I watched his
thighs as he stepped to the bed; there was a small black mole
at the top of his right leg, and I wanted to kiss it and tongue
it and run my fingers over the shaft of his cock.

He lay on top of me, kissing my mouth and stroking my sides
with his hands.  He slid his penis between my legs and rocked
his hips, and the hot hard length of it slipped back and forth
over my pussy, and I opened up and my honey coated his shaft.
He raised himself up, took one of my nipples between his
fingers, rolled it back and forth.  My back arched and my
mind went away.  He whispered to me.  His cock pulsed, just
outside my opening.

"Do you want me to take you from behind?  Do you want me in
your anus?  Do you want me in your mouth?  I would like to be
in your mouth."  I wanted him in my mouth, his hardness inside
me, his cock far up in my cunt, coming and coming.  "Yes," I
managed to say, "yes, I want that."  He smiled, and he put his
head to my chest, and his mouth suckled on my breasts, and his
hands spread my thighs apart.  His mouth moved down, and my
muscles spasmed.

He was lying back on the bed, and I lay between his legs, my
lips on his cock, and he groaned and grunted as I licked and
sucked the throbbing hardness.  I kissed the mole on his thigh
while my fingers traced the veins of his staff.  I squeezed him
with my hands, made a circle with my fingers at the base of his
shaft, cradled his balls in my other hand, took the smooth head
between my lips, and he cried out and his legs stiffened.
"Christ Jesus," almost shouting, "AHH!"  But I kept him from
coming, because I wanted him to fuck me.

He pulled my face to his, kissed me long and greedy on the
mouth, then turned me onto my stomach and pulled my hips
up toward him.  I felt his wet cock against my ass, then his
fingers on my pussy, opening me, and then oh God then his
cock sliding inside me.  He was fucking me finally he was
in me and it was like I was a virgin the in and out opening
me and my body turning to water.  Fucking me in long slow
strokes and his hands pulling my hips.  My body rocked back
and forth, I pushed myself up on my elbows so I could push
back against him better, drive him further into me, and he
groaned and my breasts rubbed against the tangled sheets and
he fucked me and fucked me and I came in a long impossible
contraction of my cunt and my stomach and my mind.  And
while I was still coming he pulled out of me, and turned
me over, and spread my legs again, and he lay on me and
put it into me again, and I screamed and he gasped into my
ear, and he kissed my face, and he called me Angel and Dona
and Love until he came.

Then we curled up together, with my head on his chest,
breathing in the sweet sweaty warmth of him, my hand on
his quiet soft penis, and we fell asleep, with his fingers
stroking my hair.

I woke sometime later, in the dark, as she got back into the
bed.  "Call of nature, love," she whispered, kneeling naked
beside me to turn back the sheet.  I reached out one hand,
found her heavy warm breast, cupped it in my hand.  She sighed.
My other hand found her thigh, caressed the dark mole by her
vulva, pressed up into the fur between her legs.  Her hand
brushed by my stomach, curled around my cock.  "Fuck me again,"
she whispered, "my beautiful one."  Her tits swung against my
face as we fucked in the dark, and I licked them and squeezed
them with my hands.

When I got home, Pat came into my arms easily, and kissed me
soundly and erotically, pressing her lovely body against me.
A child laughed somewhere behind her.  "Have a nice time?"
she asked.

"Yeah," I said.  "Y'all still not fucking men?"

"Heck," she smiled, "that's much too much fun to give up for
good."  And she looked into my eyes.  "Don't you think?"


My Friends the Allens -- Reflection
by Mark Aster