How to Train Your Girlfriend 02 (Patreon)

Author’s Note: Presenting our winner of the story tournament: How to Train Your Girlfriend! 

Winning the tournament means it joins the rotation between Luther’s Pride and Harem House extras, so you can expect to see future chapters once I have them drafted and ready to go. For now, enjoy Chapter 2!

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How to Train Your Girlfriend

Chapter 2: Vicky

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Vicky left the book club meeting with dissatisfaction lodged deep in her thoughts. It had been growing since the start of her relationship with Barry. She should’ve known better than to fuck a guy she met at the arcade. 

Big Mike’s Bar & Arcade was a hotspot for retro gamers and microbrew enthusiasts. Tonight wasn’t the first time she had stopped there on the way home from her book club. It wasn’t a conducive atmosphere for reading, but the meetings always gave her energy. Playing some old-school games and having a beer was a nice way to relax.

She parked her car in the lot on the side of the brick building and took a second to rally her thoughts and prepare what she was going to say. 

She knew what she couldn’t say. Vicky couldn’t tell him what she’d told the book club. 

She couldn’t go in there and break up with the man because his dick wasn’t big enough. Besides, they had other problems. Six months into a relationship, any couple was bound to get over the honeymoon phase and realize things wouldn’t work out. 

Vicky sighed, checking her appearance in the mirror. She didn’t need to appear devastating to devastate the man, but she refused to enter a public bar looking subpar. She ran a brush through her hair, checked her nails and makeup, and added some lip gloss, giving her lips a rosy sheen. 

Sticky August air clung to her when she left the car, forming an invisible film. She exposed a lot of skin in her summer outfits. Her t-shirt sleeves came to her elbows, which was where the baggy gray shirt’s hemline ended. It left the hem closer to her breasts than her navel, but with the crew neck collar, she considered it a modest shirt. She couldn’t help that her breasts made every shirt look immodest. 

Her breasts hung apart as if trying to slide sideways, but her bra pushed them together. The result swelled her chest and drew far too much attention.

The men hanging at the edge of the parking lot watched her chest as she approached them, and her ass after she passed them. One of the women did the same. The other two girls just glared at her.

Her ass formed a peach in the denim short shorts she wore. The ripped jean cut-offs barely reached the bottom of her butt cheeks. Their tight material hugged every curve of her hips and bounced with every step. The tears on the front showed off the tops of her thighs in forbidden peeks of flesh. 

She was hot, and she knew it. Beyond that, she had a decent job, a healthy libido, and interests in many areas men considered nerdy. In her experience, that combination meant any hot guy she wanted would buy her a drink. It was getting them to stick around after they fucked her that proved trickier. Six months wasn’t her longest relationship ever, but it made the top three. 

Was Barry so bad? He’d stuck with her and worshipped the ground she walked on. That could be the problem. She wanted someone worthy of her respect, and Barry spent too much time groveling at her feet and begging her to peg him. His non-reciprocal attitude made him a selfish lover, which crept into other areas of life. He was the type to cook breakfast for one after she spent the night, then apologize for letting her sleep and offer her some cereal. Their relationship had been fun at first, but after six months, she was tired of always being the top and rarely considered in Barry’s mind. 

More than the sex, though. Vicky wanted a lover she could respect as a person, the way Mary respected Henry. Mary looked at her boyfriend as if he were a prince from one of their books. To hear her talk, Henry must sparkle in sunlight, have more emotional intelligence than the average therapist, put her needs first without asking, and fart air freshener out of his ass.

Of course, Mary and Henry hadn’t even had sex yet, so maybe Henry wasn’t perfect. Still, someone like him, who also had a decent dick, long tongue, and applicable knowledge of a woman’s body, would be ideal. A wholesome gentleman in the streets, a BookTok shadow boyfriend in the sheets. Was that too much to ask for? 

The air conditioner’s fan by the front door cascaded over her as she walked through it. The invisible waterfall of air washed the slick heat of the outside world off her. Hoppy beer, squeaky-clean leather, pretzel salt, and a million indistinguishable, competing arcade cabinet chimes, voices, and buzzes filled the refreshing air. The soft glow of electric nostalgia filled the space, with dim overhead lighting and neon bar signs behind the wooden bar. 

“There she is!” 

Barry’s voice drew her attention to him through the cloud of clattering voices and machines. His long black hair was straight and swept back behind him. The black steel-studded choker around his neck matched his black T-shirt, skinny jeans, and wristbands. His piercings glittered along with the rest of the silver jewelry he wore, and he smiled when she met his dark eyes. 

That was the thing about Barry. He didn’t look like someone with his name was supposed to look. Barry looked more like a Corbin, Dorian, or Alaric. He deserved a darker, more gothic name to fit with his chic goth style. His pronounced canines were close enough to fangs that if he only had wings and a tail, he’d play the part of a slender demon prince with ease. Plus, his skinny abs were hot. 

The deep but narrow rectangular bar had its high top area in the front with its bar on the left. Barry sat at a high-top table, waving at her. The table was in the second row from the door, and closest to the bar. She knew the table well. It was the same one where they’d shared their first drinks and had their first conversation. 

She’d expected to talk to someone who was ‘above it all’ and played Castlevania ironically, but no. Barry loved video games. His sense of style came from following his friends into an emo phase in high school. They left him behind, and he never changed his style. He always preferred to keep things as they were. 

“Hey!” Vicky said, moving to the table with the practiced ease of someone who knew the bar well. People packed the place on Friday night, even at the late hour. 

All the regulars were here. Big Mike was behind the bar. Maggie, his wife, was running a flight of beer to a table by the half wall, which sectioned off the bar from the arcade. The twins, Hannah and Holly, ran food and drinks as well, which meant Mike Jr. was fixing a machine or was in the office upstairs. 

Otherwise, customers filled the place. There was a line at the token machine, which was always good for business. The bar seemed full, though there were still some empty tables. The age range of the crowd here always amused Vicky. It started with the college kids, who didn’t know what any of the games were. Then it ran to the opposite end of the gamut, with an elderly couple who still held the high scores on the Pac-Man machine. 

Barry smiled as Vicky took the seat opposite him. He had a ten-ounce beer, but hadn’t ordered one for her despite knowing she was coming. “How was book club?”

“Fun as always, lots of opinions getting tossed about,” Vicky said. 

“You want to play a round of air hockey before we head back to your place?” Barry asked. 

“I just got here!” Vicky said. “Let me get a drink and get some games in. And why my place?”

They usually hung out at his place. 

“Because we’re spending tomorrow night at my place,” Barry said. “My parents shipped me my old N64, and I’ve rigged up the projector, so our special night tomorrow is my favorite beer, Mario Kart, and I’ve got dinner planned out.” 

“Planned out?” Vicky asked. “You’re cooking?” 

Barry couldn’t cook for two, as far as she knew. 

“I’m making my favorite,” Barry said. “A creamy spinach gnocchi. I’m sure you’ll love it.” 

“And what’s so special about tomorrow night?” Vicky asked, confused. It wasn’t his birthday, because that was in June. It wasn’t her birthday because that was in October. August was devoid of any holidays. So what made a random Saturday in August special? 

“Our six-month anniversary!” Barry said, laughing. “Did you think I forgot?” 

Was tomorrow six months on the dot? No, right? 

Vicky looked toward the arcade machines, where the cabinets formed ranks and lined up in neat rows. Her eyes fell on the X-Men arcade game: the two-player cabinet, the original. 

Over the years, Big Mike’s became a popular date spot in Creekville and embraced its Insta-fame with photo ops, customized hashtags, and discounts. They had a singles night last February, the week before Valentine’s Day. Vicky had the high score on the X-Men machine, and Barry had needed a partner’s help to get past the Living Monolith. Vicky volunteered when he asked at the bar, and the rest was history.

“Fuck,” Vicky said. 

Barry’s brow furrowed. “What’s the matter? Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t realize tomorrow was six months.” Vicky said. She didn’t go in for anniversaries. The one-year mark, sure, she could get behind celebrating a relationship that lasted an entire year. That’s what anniversaries were, by definition. None of her relationships ever lasted that long, though. She wasn’t an anniversary person. 

It was better for him to learn that now. 

“Look,” Vicky said, beginning the conversation the same way every time. “We need to talk.” 

Barry’s furrowed brow relaxed into something more worried than confused, and he took a deep breath. “What’s up?” 

“We need to break up,” Vicky said, not bothering to soften the blow. 

“What?” Barry asked, confused. “Why? Is there someone else?” 

“What?” Vicky asked, surprised by the question. “No, there’s nobody else. I’m just—there are a lot of little things that have added up over time, and I’ve been figuring myself out. We need to call things off before we get too invested.” 

“Oh,” Barry said, still confused. “Is it because of the six-month anniversary? Are you afraid I’m going to propose or something? I usually wait a full ten months before buying a ring.” 

He was joking, of course, but Vicky wasn’t. She gave him a soft smile. 

“You’re serious?” Barry asked. “I thought we liked each other. Is it because we didn’t commit enough? Should I have said I love you sooner?” 

“No,” Vicky said, shaking her head. They hadn’t exchanged ‘I love you’ in the six months they’d been dating; they’d been taking things slow that way. They lived separately, spent frequent time together, and he’d brought up the ‘exclusive’ conversation two months in. Vicky agreed to be exclusive, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be. Not with him. “I’m glad we didn’t.” 

“Because you don’t love me,” Barry said, realizing it as he sat back in his seat. “Fuck.” 

“Sorry,” Vicky winced. “You’re a great guy, Barry, and hot as fuck. I’m sure you’ll make some girl out there a great boyfriend, but we’re not compatible.” 

“Not compatible?” Barry asked. “We get along great! We have plenty in common, including the same taste in music and TV shows. I thought this was going somewhere. That we might go the distance.” 

Vicky nodded. “I should have expressed some issues sooner, I guess. I didn’t mean to mislead you.” 

“You haven’t been happy?” Barry asked. “For how long? Is it something I can work on?” 

“It’s just a bunch of things layered together that have added up over time,” Vicky said. 

“Like what?” Barry asked. 

Vicky didn’t want to play the ‘for example’ game. That game always led to an argument because no matter what she said next, he’d argue. She could tell him his feet smelled like a landfill on a wet summer day, and he’d offer to get spray deodorant for his sneakers. His choice of work—working at his cousin’s record store—promised poverty. He’d promise to get a new job, remind her it was a family business, or recall his entrepreneurial spirit. Though his various attempts to make money on eBay, Amazon, or Etsy had failed. 

Barry had suggested getting a dog, but she was more of a cat person; they took less work. He’d argue that it wasn’t an issue; they could get both. Barry’d been living independently for years, in the apartment above the record store with his cousin. He still couldn’t cook, and barely cleaned his place when she came over. If they moved in together, she’d become as jilted as Barb about the domestic labor for his benefit that would crash onto her as the woman. 

And that was without mentioning the sexual incompatibility and the general distaste Vicky had for some of his friends. 

Each issue was something they’d discussed before and dropped. On their own, the problems weren’t that bad, but counted together, they became an immovable barrier, and there were too many of them to ignore. If Vicky did, it’d be years before they broke up, and they’d sustain far more damage from it. 

“If we go over the list, it’ll just be an argument,” Vicky said. “You’ll swear you can change and fix each issue, but it’d take changing so much about you and your life that it just wouldn’t work. It’s not fair of me to ask you to change, and none of those changes would stick in the long term.” 

“At least give me a chance to convince you we’re worth fighting for,” Barry argued. “I mean, you’re not perfect either, right? But it’s not like I want to break up over it.”

“I never claimed to be perfect,” Vicky said, hurt. She knew she wasn’t a prize of a person, but he didn’t have to throw that in her face. “But I’ve given this a lot of thought, and we’re incompatible, Barry. I’m sorry.” 

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re sorry,” Barry stared at her. “You’re not shedding any tears over it; you’re fucking heartless.” 

She wasn’t crying. She’d made peace with this moment weeks ago and spent the rest of the time convincing herself to do it. Dumping Barry was one of those unpleasant tasks she’d been meaning to do, but kept putting off as if the situation might resolve itself. It hadn’t, so she’d had to take care of it. Sure, her timing could have been better, but better now than on their one-year anniversary, right? 

Barry folded. He put his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. To him, the news was fresh, and it hurt to be the one dumped, not the one dumping. She had sympathy for him. She gestured to Big Mike, who looked confused, but prepared another beer for Barry based on what he was drinking. 

“Let me cover your tab,” Vicky said. “I’ll mail anything you left at my place to you.” 

Barry didn’t respond. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, but I’ll give you your space to get over this if you need it,” Vicky said. 

“I love you,” Barry said, making one last-ditch effort to grasp for her before she departed.  

Vicky was far too familiar with people who threw the phrase around, and too divorced from its meaning to care. Besides, he’d only said it to stop her from breaking up with him, to keep her around, because change was scary. She’d already considered her future with and without Barry in it, and she knew she was making the right choice. She wasn’t heartless. Vicky cared for him, and they had a bond, but she didn’t love him. At least, not the way the people in books loved each other. Not the way Mary loved her boyfriend. 

“No, you don’t,” Vicky said. “You’re just grasping at straws, and you’re better than that. For what it’s worth, I liked you, Barry, and we had a lot of fun together. I’m just–I don’t foresee us having a future together.” 

“And you get to decide that unilaterally? No conversation or room for compromise?” Barry asked. 

Vicky blinked. Anger broiled in her gut like bile, but she bit it back. She held it in as she swallowed and tried to explain why she didn’t need his vote to end the relationship. “Yeah, Barry, that’s how consent works. You can’t force someone to remain in a relationship with you. It’s not a group decision. You don’t get a vote. It’s my future, and you’re not in it. Now enjoy your consolation beer, mope or whatever for however long you have to, and move on. Maybe you’ll find someone better in the future.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Barry said. He put his head back in his hands and sighed. “Just… fine. Go. Clearly, you weren’t as invested in this relationship as I thought you were.” 

“Okay,” Vicky said, giving him what he wanted. She rose from the table as Hannah, one of the waitresses, brought him beer. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Is everything okay over here?” Hannah asked. “What happened? Did you beat his high score again?” 

Vicky winced. “We, uh, broke up.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Hannah said, consoling Vicky as if she were the one who had lost a prize. 

“I’ll be fine. Barry’s the one who needs a beer,” Vicky said, gesturing toward him. 

Hannah turned her attention toward Barry, and Vicky made her way to the bar. She paid Barry’s tab with Big Mike and left the bar. Hannah was still consoling Barry when she left. He’d be fine. He was hot enough, and if he played his cards right, Hannah would give him some consolation tonight. 

She hated leaving without playing the games she’d intended to play to relax, but he’d been there first. Her console and gaming rig were at home. Or she could approach a guy in the parking lot and go back to his place to fuck away her frustrations. 

Instead, she went to her car and sat. Perhaps she should have cried or felt some pang of regret. Instead, relief lightened her shoulders, and no tear crept against her eyes. She made the right decision, even though the task had been unpleasant. 

Barry hadn’t been too bad about it. He’d endured it without yelling at her or breaking down and sobbing. This chat wasn’t their last communication, but it was the end of their relationship. So at least she was free, and that uncomfortable conversation was over. 

Ten minutes after entering her car and sitting there staring at the steering wheel, Vicky had replayed the conversation in her head no less than a dozen times. Her analysis convinced her she’d done the right thing in the best possible way. 

It was possible that she wasn’t ready for a long-term, serious relationship. She was too independent, perhaps. She valued her freedom, and she didn’t want to be anyone’s maid. Vicky grabbed her phone, taking Barb’s advice from Book Club. There was an app for everything nowadays. 

Vicky downloaded the apps she’d removed when she and Barry became exclusive. Her profiles needed updating and reactivating, but that’d wait until she got home. She had to download the apps first and used half a dozen of them to cover the various niches. A pity there wasn’t a magic app like in the book that could help her gather a harem of lovers. 

She cast a wide net and enjoyed a variety of fish. 

Vicky pressed the button to start her car. Kiki, her blue Nissan Kicks, rumbled to life. Her audiobook started playing, and she slammed her finger against the pause button on the dashboard. Tonight wasn’t the night for her favorite cozy poly romance series. The sex was hot and kinky, but too much cozy sweetness would only depress her. 

Spotify was a better option for the drive home. Her vibrator called to her, and nothing sounded better than putting on her favorite porno, having a gummy, and frigging herself into oblivion until Sunday afternoon. 

She backed out of her parking spot as Lily and Jenny by MaeThePirate came on her Spotify. The cute, peppy tune told the story of two lesbian lovers who ran away to be together. A tempting prospect, though, as a confirmed bisexual, she didn’t know if she could give up men. 

Authors needed to drag the “all bi people are sluts incapable of monogamy” trope out of their books and shoot it in the face. But that didn’t stop her from pursuing her broad tastes when she could. Barry had suggested threesomes more than once, but she’d spared him that embarrassment by countering his request with an offer of two men. Naturally, he’d declined that option. She was bisexual, after all, not him. So, it was really a generous act to offer to have a threesome with her and this girl he knew from college, who might be into it. 

Vicky released the memory with a heavy exhale. She straightened her spine as she turned out of the parking lot and hit the open road.  

The next person she dated should be a woman, she decided. She’d have to change her status on the apps, but it’d be doable to meet some cute women. Or, worst-case scenario, she’d ask Lisa to introduce her to some people. Or maybe she’d ask Lisa on a date? She had great taste in literature, so they had at least one thing in common. 

No, she didn’t need to jump into another relationship. That was a mistake waiting to happen. Every time she rebounded, it ended in heartbreak, usually hers. The correct course of action was to fuck around until she found someone who seemed more compatible than the others. Mary called her promiscuous because of her sexual liberty, but the others didn’t judge her. Besides, Mary was a prude and repressed as fuck. Poor girl was a mess, but what could she expect from someone who grew up believing virginity was a virtue? 

As if her thoughts summoned her, Vicky’s music paused. Her phone rang, and the dashboard display told her Mary was calling. She pressed the button on the steering wheel so hard she jammed her finger. Mary never called after nine. If she were calling now, there was an emergency. 

“Are you okay?” Vicky asked as soon as the call connected. 

Mary must not have heard her. There was sometimes a delay with the Bluetooth. 

“Vicky? It’s Mary. Did I wake you up?” 

“No, honey, I’m just leaving the bar,” Vicky said. 

“The bar?” Mary asked, surprised. 

“Had to break it off with Barry, so yeah, I’m headin’ home now. What’s up?” Vicky asked. 

“Oh, good. You broke it off with Barry then?” 

Vicky sighed. “Yeah, it was a long time coming. I’m relieved to be rid of him, but he didn’t take it as well.” 

Had Mary called just to talk? No, it was far too late for that. 

“Well, I’m sorry he’s sad, but I’m glad you’re free!” Mary said, far more enthusiastically than Vicky expected of her sympathetic friend. Mary never took joy from others’ unhappiness, but perhaps she was sensing Vicky’s relief?  

“Yeah,” Vicky said. “It’s a good feeling.” 

“What are you doing now?” Mary asked. 

“Driving home,” Vicky said. “What’s up?” 

“Did you mean what you said at the Book Club meeting?” Mary asked. 

“Honey, I said a lot of things at Book Club,” Vicky said. The entire point of the monthly gathering was conversation, after all. They usually got around to the book about halfway through, but Vicky was one of the louder personalities in the group. She said a lot of shit every month. “Can you be more specific?” 

“About showing me what to do with Henry’s uh… member? Being our third?” Mary asked. 

Both of Vicky’s eyebrows tried to fly off her face, but she held them back, stopping at a red light, and settling into her seat as the forward momentum ceased. 

“Hello?” Mary asked, her voice happy, but worried. 

“I’m here,” Vicky said, her mind racing. “Are you drunk?” 

Mary chuckled. “No, I’m not drunk.” 

“Oh God, did you do drugs? How much did you take? How many milligrams? And are we talking mushrooms, weed, or something harder?” Vicky asked, prepping herself to drive to Mary’s location, wherever she was, and spend the night in the ER pumping her friend’s stomach. 

“No, no drugs,” Mary said, laughing at Vicky’s worry from the other end of the phone. “I’m serious. I want you to be the third. To show me what to do with it, as you said. I want to learn how to give a handjob.” 

Vicky bit her lip to keep her laugh from exploding out of her. Poor Mary. The twenty-five-year-old woman was so mixed up that giving her boyfriend a handy became a significant step forward for her. Vicky wouldn’t risk embarrassing her or shaming her about it. Porn was out of the question. Mary’s boundaries fell in odd places, and figuring out where she’d built her fences would take a lifetime. 

“Okay, I can help with that,” Vicky said, deciding that her need for an orgasm could wait. Mary meant a lot to her, and this was a life event she couldn’t miss. “Do you have a dildo, or do you need me to bring one?” 

Vicky already knew the answer, she assumed. 

“Do we need one?” Mary asked, confused. 

“I guess not,” Vicky said. “I’ll be at your place in ten.” 

“Oh, I’m at Henry’s. You should come here,” Mary said. “I’ll text you the address.” 

“Uh–” Vicky’s brain short-circuited. It was a good thing she was the only car at the intersection, because the light turned green and she didn’t move through it right away. She kept her foot on the brake and stared at the road ahead. “You want me to show you how to give Henry a handjob, on Henry?” 

“Yeah!” Mary said. “It’s not cheating if we’re all here and consenting, right?” 

“Uh, right,” Vicky said, confused. 

“So come over!” Mary said. “I’m excited! We’ll see you soon!” 

The call ended, and Vicky blinked. The light turned yellow, then red, and a text with the address came through. Vicky punched it into her GPS and discovered Henry lived much closer than Mary did. 

“Well, fuck,” Vicky said. This idea wasn’t the craziest sexual thing she’d done. There were no masks, capes, or wasabi involved. Mary hadn’t invited her to an orgy. It wasn’t like the time she and her ex had seduced a waitress and fucked her together. Nor was it anything like that Halloween party in college when she’d taken more dicks than there were guys at the party. Somehow.

She didn’t regret or apologize for her promiscuity, especially in college. She was proud of how free she was. Fearless, her friends called her. She had her fears, but not about sex. She didn’t fear men the way some of her friends did, nor did she fear getting her heart broken. Heartbreak was a part of life. Change was a universal constant; entropy, decay, and chaos were the world’s natural state. Life followed the same pattern unless she embraced whatever came next and moved forward with it. She turned the negatives into positives, lemons into lemonade. 

Not that this situation was a bad one, though it had the potential to turn very messy. Did Mary know what she was asking? She wanted Vicky to give Henry a handjob? Did she want moral support and a cheerleader while Mary gave Henry a handjob? What was going through that crazy, messed-up freak’s head? 

She had to think of it from Mary’s point of view. Mary, her friend, asked her for help on a subject in which Vicky had far more experience. Everyone consenting and present meant it wasn’t cheating, in Mary’s logic. Naturally, Henry had to be fine with her involvement. Every guy wanted two naked women instead of one. She couldn’t hold that against him. Had Mary told Henry? Did she intend Vicky to be a surprise? 

She had answered none of her questions by the time she parked the car in the parking lot beside Henry’s apartment building. Vicky parked in the spot reserved for guests, pulling beside Mary’s car before she turned off the engine. She paused the music and looked at the brick facade of the building ahead.

Vicky exited her car, closing her door as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anyone. Her car chirped when she locked the door, but she couldn’t help that. She set her shoulders back, kept her chin high, and marched into the building, through the lobby, rode the elevator, and knocked on the door of apartment 2D, Henry’s apartment. 

This was going to be weird, but with any luck, she might not need her vibrator to fall asleep tonight.

They didn’t answer, so she knocked again, louder this time. She hoped she had the right apartment. If she were wrong, she’d have some apologizing to do for being so disruptive so late at night. Either way, she was glad the building seemed to have central air conditioning, even if it made her skin tingle from the brief jaunt between her car and the doors. 

The door opened with Henry on the other side, shirtless in a pair of jeans. She strode into the room as she looked him over. She knew he’d been in the army, but that had been years ago. He was still in good shape, though, and his chest hair drew her eyes to his navel. His handsome features were pleasant enough, but Vicky wouldn’t dream of stealing him from Mary. Besides, she was done with guys for a while. 

“Okay,” Vicky said as Henry closed the door. “Let’s get this party started.” 

She clapped her hands together and surveyed the apartment. The kitchen was fine, and the place smelled better than she expected for a dude’s lair. Not that she expected Henry to be as messy as Barry, given his military experience. 

“Where’s Mary?” Vicky asked. “I thought she was here?” 

Henry pointed, and Mary’s hand popped into the air from behind the recliner. She waved, and Vicky chuckled. 

Vicky crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Henry. “Is there a reason she’s hiding?”

“Is the door closed?” Mary asked. 

Vicky and Henry both checked the door, and Henry locked it, pulling the chain across it for good measure. 

“Do you have roommates?” Vicky asked, noticing the apartment’s size. 

“Yeah, but Mike’s at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so the place is ours,” Henry answered Vicky first, then Mary. “Door’s closed!” 

Mary popped up from behind the recliner with a bright smile, her breasts hanging free as she approached Vicky and hugged her, as if she were clothed. Vicky shouldn’t have been shocked. These weren’t the first pair of breasts she’d seen, but even rooming together in college, she’d only ever seen Mary in a bra and panties at minimum. 

Now she was topless, and hugging Vicky? Vicky hugged her back, then pressed the underside of her wrist to Mary’s forehead. 

Mary chuckled. “What are you doing?” 

“Checking to see if you have a fever,” Vicky said. “You’re topless! And girl! Your tits are fan-fucking-tastic!” 

Mary blushed, increasing the temperature of her forehead, but she showed no signs of fever. Vicky had seen that gleam in her eye before. Her friend was excited.

“Yours are sexier, don’t worry,” Mary said. 

Vicky tilted her head, examining Mary’s breasts more critically as they separated from the hug to hold hands. “I don’t know about that. May I?” 

Mary looked up at her, blinking. “May you, what?” 

“Can I touch them?” Vicky asked, trying not to laugh. She looked at Henry. “Will you get jealous if I cop a feel?” 

“It’s Mary’s decision, but no, I won’t be jealous, Henry said. 

“Oh, uh, sure?” Mary said, lifting one toward Vicky. 

Vicky took it in her hand, replacing Mary’s hand with hers, and cupped it, as if testing its weight. “How do you have no back problems?” 

Mary chuckled. “Good bras, and strong shoulders.” She posed, removing her breast from Vicky’s hand in consequence, but showing off her shoulders, making Vicky laugh. 

“Okay, farm girl,” Vicky said. “What is it you need help with? You and Henry seem to have gotten halfway there already.” 

“He showed me his penis,” Mary said, her words quick and her tone high. “And I showed him my boobs. I want to give him a handjob, but I have no idea what I’m doing here. Since you do, no offense, I thought you could give him one, and I could watch and learn how to do it myself. I guess it sounds a little silly.” 

Vicky thought she’d done a good job of schooling her expression. But curling her lips into her mouth and biting down to keep from laughing hadn’t stopped Mary from clocking her amusement. Mary knew her too well to get away with any half-assed deceptions. She exhaled, trying to loosen her lips without laughing. 

“It does,” Vicky admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.” 

She eyed Henry. He was attractive enough, and he got at least one handjob out of this, even if Mary chickened out. Vicky eyed Mary; she didn’t seem scared like she did when they discussed sex. She seemed eager, leaning toward Vicky to hear her answer. 

“What do you get out of it?” Vicky asked Mary. 

“Uh, I learn how to do it well, and I get to, um, have some, uh, intimacy with Henry without feeling guilty about it,” Mary said, getting to the point. 

So she wanted the closeness that came from bringing her man to orgasm. Mary had never had the experience of holding her partner’s dick in her hand as though it were his life. The power Vicky felt when feeling her lover pulse in her hand, or crest the edge of pleasure and explode, was incomparable. 

“And what do I get out of it?” Vicky asked, raising an eyebrow and lowering her eyes to Henry’s crotch. 

“Uh,” Henry hesitated, looking at Mary with a questioning expression. 

Mary blinked. Vicky could tell she’d asked a question Mary hadn’t considered yet. She was asking for a favor, and she was excited about it, so she hadn’t thought of how to pay it back yet. She might’ve even thought Vicky would have been as enthusiastic about this as Mary was, which was valid to an extent. Vicky was happy for Mary, excited for her even, and proud of her in ways she couldn’t explain. This step was significant progress for Mary, and sure, it was weird, but that didn’t bother Vicky. What bothered her was the labor asked of her with no kind of reciprocation. She wasn’t going to cum from giving Henry a handjob, after all. 

“What do you want to get out of it?” Mary asked, looking at Vicky. Her nerves had returned, but she didn’t need to worry that much. “Money?” 

“I’m a slut, not a whore, Honey,” Vicky said, knowing Mary didn’t mean it that way. 

“I didn’t mean–” Mary started. 

“I know, Honey,” Vicky said, holding up her hand. “I was teasing you.” She grinned, looked at Henry’s bulge, and licked her lips. “I’ll do it for an orgasm.” 

Henry’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. 

“For a…” Mary’s voice faded. “I… I don’t want Henry to, um, put his thing inside you.” 

“That’s fine,” Vicky said. “But I still want an orgasm. It’s only fair, right, Henry? If I give you a handjob, can you get me off in exchange without fucking me?” 

Henry looked at Mary, who looked between the two of them, biting her lip, uncertain and nervous. “I’m fine with it if Mary is, but her consent to it is important to me.” 

“Good answer,” Vicky said, grinning. “I see why you love him so much.” 

Mary blushed, nodding. “I’m fine with it.” 

“You should give your girl an orgasm too, while you’re at it,” Vicky said, winking at Henry. 

Mary shook her head, waving her hands in front of her, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “No, that’s okay. I’m not ready for that yet. One step at a time, please.” 

“Okay,” Vicky said, patting Mary on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Honey, we’ll take it at your pace.” 

Mary nodded. “So, how should we start?” 

“Hm,” Vicky stroked her chin and looked around the room. “Let’s see, Henry, why don’t you sit in the center of the sofa?”

Henry gave Mary a questioning look, checking to make sure she was comfortable. She nodded, and Henry moved to the sofa, sitting in the center. 

“Are you the type who likes to take control of the situation, or the type who likes to follow orders?” Vicky asked Henry. She had her answer for Mary already, but she didn’t know Henry as well. 

“Do you mean in general, or in the bedroom?” Henry asked. 

Vicky grinned. “In the bedroom, obviously.” 

“I prefer to take control,” Henry said. That made sense, given Mary’s preferences. 

“Of course, he takes control. He’s a man,” Mary said. “Men are naturally dominant, and women are naturally submissive.” 

Vicky stared at Mary as if she’d just said something crazy. 

“What?” Mary asked. “It’s human nature.”

Vicky laughed, a short giggle at Mary’s expense that made Mary frown. 

“What? What’d I say?” Mary asked. 

“Honey, no. That’s not human nature. That’s your personal fetish that you’re projecting onto humanity,” Vicky said, once she stopped laughing. She sighed. “Oh, you’re so precious.” 

Mary frowned, taking Vicky’s words as an insult. 

“I’m not saying you did anything wrong, or that you’re being dumb or anything,” Vicky said, cutting off arguments they’d had in the past. “I’m just saying that worldview says more about you than the world.”

Mary’s frown faltered as she considered Vicky’s words. “But everybody knows that, right?” 

“Everybody at church?” Vicky asked. 

Mary fell silent, telling Vicky that she had hit the nail on the head. Men being dominant and women being submissive was fine, in Vicky’s book, but it wasn’t a universal law of human nature. She’d met more submissive men than dominant ones. Yet those in power preferred to keep that power. That universal law was as true of religion as it was of any other social hierarchy, from politics to PTAs and HOAs. 

“But in this case, that’s fine,” Vicky assured Mary. “If you want to cut in and take control, Henry, I’m okay with that, but I’ll start things off and get the ball rolling here. Do you two have a safeword in place already?” Vicky asked. 

Mary and Henry looked at each other. 

“Pick a word that you’re unlikely to say in this kind of context, but that you’ll remember. You can say it any time you get too uncomfortable or want to stop, and we’ll stop,” Vicky explained the concept, just in case. Mary had to know what a safeword was, but they appeared less frequently in the spicy romances they read than Vicky expected, even in the kinkier scenes. 

“Cumquat?” Mary asked. 

Vicky snorted. “Maybe, uh, something that doesn’t start with cum.” 

Henry realized why Vicky had snorted and laughed as well, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know!” Mary said, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“We’re not laughing at you,” Henry said, soothing Mary and reaching for her. She moved to the sofa, sitting beside Henry on his left and holding his hand. “How about, uh, cease?” 

“Cease?” Vicky asked, making sure she’d heard him correctly. 

“Sure, it’s like, stop, but, you know, not something you’d normally say, right?” Henry shrugged. 

“What do you suggest, Vicky? You’re more experienced in this kind of thing,” Mary said, as innocent as ever. 

Vicky huffed. Mary didn’t intend any offence with those comments, but they could grate after a while. “Would ‘Vanilla’ work?” 

“Vanilla?” Mary repeated the word as if tasting it. “Yeah, I guess that’s something we’re unlikely to say in the heat of the moment.” 

“Vanilla works for me,” Henry said, shrugging. “Though I won’t be the one saying it.” 

“Big talk, Mister Wilson.” Vicky clapped and rubbed her palms together. “Okay, let’s get started. The first thing you need to know about handjobs, Mary, is that they’re part of the foreplay, the lead-up to the big event.” 

“But we’re not moving beyond a handjob tonight,” Henry said. “I want to keep this at a pace Mary’s comfortable with.” 

Vicky arched an eyebrow. “Even if Mary says it’s okay to move to blowjobs? Or if she gets turned on enough to straddle and fu–” 

“Yes, even then,” Henry said, summoning an iron will that Vicky had to respect. He said it as if he believed it, but Vicky had heard guys talk tough before, and they always caved. 

‘We don’t have to do anything tonight’ always ended with her on her back, taking it like a champ. She didn’t mind because she enjoyed herself, but she knew better than to believe in ‘we’ll stop at handjobs.’ He said that now, but she expected him to re-evaluate that position when he was hard, horny, and aching for release with two desirable women asking him to take them. 

Vicky licked her lips. 

“Can you stop at handjobs?” Henry asked. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.” 

Vicky moved to stand in front of them, surprise on her face. “I can stop at handjobs.” He wouldn’t want her to later, but she would now, just to teach him not to test her. “Are you two ready?” 

Henry looked at Mary. Mary nodded. Henry nodded his agreement. “Ready.” 

“Okay, the first step in any handjob is getting your man hard,” Vicky said, addressing Mary. “This is pretty fuckin’ easy to do. They’re visual creatures, so you’ve already started with showing him your tits. Go on and look at them, Henry, give them a squeeze.” 

She glanced at Henry’s crotch while he looked to Mary for permission. Mary nodded and arched her back to present her heavy, full breasts, which Henry cupped, holding and groping. A promising bulge grew in his lap, suggesting he was eager, but his lack of discomfort meant he was small or not hard yet. 

“Let’s see what we’re working with, Henry,” Vicky gestured to his crotch. “Mary, undo his belt for him.” 

Mary reached over Henry’s lap and tugged at his belt, unfastening it. She did the button next without Vicky’s prompting, and Mary and Henry slid his pants off next, leaving him in his briefs with his jeans around his ankles. 

The bulge looked promising. 

“Let’s see it,” Vicky said, motioning with her fingers. 

Henry took a breath, then slid the briefs down to his knees. He sprang free once the elastic passed his member, but was only half hard. They’d been pretty frank and clinical before, so Vicky had to reset the mood. 

“Mary, can I talk to you for a second? Behind the sofa?” Vicky asked. 

Mary, confused, nodded and rose from the sofa. Henry released her breasts as she pulled away and twisted to follow her with his eyes. 

“Eyes forward, Mister Wilson,” Vicky said, twirling her finger as she circled the other side of the sofa and met Mary behind it. She searched the room, found Mary’s shirt and bra, and offered them to her. 

“What?” Mary asked. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t use my safeword.” 

“You did nothing wrong,” Vicky said. “But I have a plan. Do you trust me?” 

Mary appeared skeptical. She and Vicky had been friends for years, since college, and they trusted each other, but this situation had to wrack the poor girl’s nerves. She nodded her agreement, and Vicky gave her a thumbs-up.

“Then put these on, and it’ll help,” Vicky said. 

Mary put her bra on first, then her shirt, and Vicky took her hand. Holding hands, they walked around to the end of the sofa, where Henry remained sitting in the middle. He’d kicked his briefs and jeans off his legs, leaving him naked, but soft. 

He met Vicky’s eyes and expressed his anxiety through the curves of his forehead and earnest, parted lips. 

“Henry, I want you to stroke yourself while we do this, okay?” Vicky asked. “Mary, your job is to watch him, to see what rhythm he uses, where he touches, and how hard he squeezes.” 

“Okay,” Mary said. She moved into the position Vicky had assigned her. They stood across from Henry, with Mary’s back against Vicky’s front. Vicky hugged her from behind, with both their gazes on Henry as he gripped his soft member and rubbed some life into it. 

“Mm,” Vicky said. “Now, let’s get you naked.”

Mary gulped, but obediently moved her arms as Vicky lifted Mary’s shirt off her body once more. Her simple bra held her boobs. Even though they’d been bare a moment ago, seeing the pillowy mounds of flesh pressed together and held aloft did something to Vicky’s insides. She wanted to shove her face into Mary’s cleavage and go to town. 

“Look at the effect you’re having on him,” Vicky whispered in Mary’s ear. Removing her shirt had Henry half-hard. “You’re so sexy without even trying. It’s not fair.” 

Mary swallowed, nodding her head. 

Vicky unclasped Mary’s jeans, and Mary’s hands flew to her waistband, holding them up. 

“It’s okay, Mary. Show him your underwear. He’ll be hard as a rock.” Vicky had never considered herself a capable coach, but her encouragement seemed to work wonders on Mary. 

Mary released her jeans, and Vicky squatted behind her as she pulled them down, leaving Mary in a plain pair of white cotton panties. They weren’t sexy lingerie, but on her, they might as well be. The faded cotton was partially transparent, with Mary’s blonde pubic hair curling against the front. Henry’s reaction to the underwear was positive, given how cute they made Mary look while wearing less than he’d ever seen her in. 

Vicky unsnapped Mary’s bra next, letting it drop away and free her breasts. Mary’s rack was fuller than Vicky’s, with her broad, round breasts hanging over her soft upper abs. Vicky cupped Mary’s breasts, letting them overflow her hands as she gripped the under-curve, and covering Mary’s nipples with her hands. She felt Mary’s nipples stiffen against her palm, becoming hard eraser tips. She slid her hands to encircle Mary’s areolas with her thumbs, sweeping them over Mary’s nipples, and Mary made a soft, gasping moan of pleasure that melted Vicky’s core. 

“Wow,” Vicky whispered in Mary’s ear. “Congratulations, Mary. Your boyfriend has one hell of a dick.” 

Mary gulped, trying her hardest to steady her breathing as she leaned against Vicky behind her. She didn’t respond to Vicky’s words. No doubt her brain was firing too fast for her to formulate any response. Instead, her eyes shot to Henry’s lap, where he rubbed his hand along his shaft at a slow and steady pace. 

Vicky hooked her fingers under the waistband of Mary’s panties, ready to shove them to the floor, but Mary grabbed her hands on instinct, stopping her. “No, please. Not those. Vanilla.” 

Vicky stopped, releasing Mary’s waistband. “Okay,” she said. “You can keep them on.” 

Mary sighed with relief. “Thank you.” 

Vicky nodded and slapped Mary on her panty-clad ass. The woman’s hips were wide, half-moon circles. Mary’s ass overflowed her panties, with the curve of her cheeks in the center, making each one part of a sphere colliding with her body. 

Vicky licked her lips, then bit the lower corner of her mouth. “Ugh, you’re so sexy, it’s unfair.” 

Mary giggled. “Thanks? What was the spank for?” 

“A love tap,” Vicky said, patting Mary’s other cheek. “Now go sit next to your boyfriend before I decide to keep you all to myself.” 

Mary laughed as if that were impossible, and left Vicky’s embrace to sit beside Henry, where she had been before. He was hard as a rock now and didn’t know where to look, but his eyes followed Mary. Why wouldn’t they? She was his girlfriend, after all. 

Being the only one in the group still in her clothes was a fresh experience for Vicky. Typically, whether she was with a boyfriend or in a group, her clothes came off first. It created an uneasy tension and kept her out of the mood. She supposed it should make her feel powerful, as if she had power over the couple before her, a status of some kind, but it didn’t.

Vicky lifted off her baggy crop top, revealing the lacy black bra beneath. The heady rush of power came flooding into her as Henry and Mary’s gazes turned from each other toward her. She kicked off her flip-flops and unfastened her jean shorts. The tight material clung to her as she shoved them down, pulling her black lace thong with them. She stopped mid-thigh and pulled her thong back into place before it pulled away to reveal her pussy lips. 

Henry’s eyes lingered on her crotch, then he looked away, embarrassed and red-faced. 

“It’s okay,” Mary giggled. “The whole point is to turn you on right now, right? You can look. I’m here, I’m consenting, so it’s not cheating, right?” 

“Right,” Vicky confirmed. She shoved the shorts the rest of the way to the floor and stepped out of them. She straightened and reached between her breasts, unhooking her front hook-clasp bra and opening it. Her breasts fell to the sides, hanging at an angle, instead of toward the front as Mary’s did. They were still sexy, though, in Vicky’s experience. While not as large as Mary’s, they were still larger than average and had a good shape and heft.

She tweaked her nipples, stiffening them into hard points at the peak of each breast, and let her figure do the rest to amp up Henry’s horniness. Her hourglass frame was something she worked for, but she made it appear effortless. Mary was thicker in all the best places, but Vicky’s legs were longer and thin enough to have a thigh gap. Her hips were crescents compared to Mary’s half-moons, but still wide enough to match her shoulders. Her tiny waist was more petite than Mary’s, but Mary never seemed jealous of it or Vicky’s toned stomach.  

Mary kept her eyes on Henry, even as his gaze raked over Vicky’s body in hungry abandon. 

The black lace in the front of Vicky’s G-string showed her waxed pubic mound. The Brazilian wax was visible when she walked, as the thong was thin enough to show the skin between her pussy and her legs. She pulled the thong straps high on her hips, much higher than when she’d been wearing the shorts, to accentuate the lines of her lower body. 

Henry twitched in his hand, and Vicky smiled as she strutted to the sofa and plopped beside him, letting her breasts bounce. She sat on the opposite side of Mary, meeting Mary’s gaze with a wicked smirk. 

“Looks like you’re ready for your handjob,” Vicky said, lowering her eyes to his cock and raising them to meet Henry’s gaze. 

Henry coughed and swallowed to wet his throat before he spoke. “Uh, yeah, if you’re sure about this.” 

Vicky bit her lip and looked at Mary as if asking permission. 

Mary’s usual hesitation and nervousness weren’t anywhere in her expression. Instead, an eager hunger filled her eyes. She bit her lip to match Vicky and nodded her head in several vigorous motions to encourage her. “Show me.” 

Vicky sat to Henry’s right, while Mary sat on his left. He used his right hand to stroke himself while watching them strip to their panties, so Vicky used her right hand to overlay his. 

“Keep going, just for a few strokes,” Vicky instructed. 

Heny kept pumping himself with his hand. 

“When you’ve got him nice and hard, you can determine what kind of handjob he’s in the mood for by how he treats himself,” Vicky explained to Mary. “It won’t always be the same grip, pace, or stroke.” 

“Oh,” Mary said, surprised. 

Vicky moved her hand with Henry’s, letting him set the pace after she cued him to show her what he wanted. “Once he’s shown you what he wants, you can take over for him, like this.” 

Vicky grabbed his wrist with a light touch with her left hand and released him with her right, letting Henry move his hand away. She replaced his right hand with hers and continued stroking him as he’d been stroking himself. She let her fingers slide along his underside. 

“Now, something to note is that if your man is too dry, this can become painful after a while, or cause some chafing,” Vicky said. “You can use lube or lotion, but I prefer to use natural alternatives.” 

“Like what?” Mary asked, her eyes locked on Vicky’s hand pumping Henry’s cock.

“Saliva is good,” Vicky said. “Especially if you’re planning to move on to a blowjob.” 

“Which we aren’t tonight,” Henry reminded her. 

“Which we aren’t,” Vicky agreed. “The other option is to use your own arousal.” 

“My… what?” Mary asked. 

“You heard me,” Vicky said, eyeing Mary. She might not have sexual experience or education, but they read the same books. Mary knew what she was suggesting.  

Mary could hem and haw, bite her lip, and shake her head however much she wanted to. The dark spot on the front of her white panties told Vicky everything she needed to know. 

Vicky eyed Henry and nodded toward Mary. He had his head resting on the sofa behind him, relaxed as she stroked him at a languid pace with a firm grip. He wasn’t in danger of discomfort, but the sooner they added lubrication, the faster he’d arrive at his destination. 

“Another vital component is to have as much physical contact as possible with your partner, not just hand on dick,” Vicky said. She nudged Henry’s arm with her shoulder, and he got the hint. He put his arm around her, and his bare skin touching her shoulder and back sent a thrill through her as she cuddled against his side. 

Mary watched them, her gaze growing in intensity. She shifted, and Henry put his other arm around Mary in the same way, drawing her close. Vicky and Mary were eye to eye across Henry’s chest, grinning at each other. 

Vicky released his dick and brought her fingers to Mary’s lips. 

Mary stiffened, her whole body going rigid. She sniffed Vicky’s fingers in two quick, tentative sniffs. Her third inhale was longer, drawing the scent deep into her nose. 

“I love your soap,” Mary said, closing her eyes and sniffing again. 

“Good,” Henry said, smiling slightly. 

Vicky chuckled. It wasn’t why she’d done what she’d done, but it helped to know that Henry had good hygiene. She brought her fingers to her lips and sniffed. He smelled good, like pine and wood smoke. The masculine musk sent shivers down her spine. Henry flattened his palm against her and rubbed her back—the charmer. 

Vicky opened her lips and stuck her fingers in her mouth, wetting them with her saliva. Mary’s eyes went wide, watching Vicky bathe each digit with her tongue, and returning her hand to Henry’s cock. She resumed stroking him, and Henry took a deep breath, bracing himself against the pleasure she inflicted on him with every squeeze. 

“Kiss his neck,” Vicky instructed, and Mary obeyed without protest.

Mary pressed her lips against Henry’s neck, giving him soft kisses. It was far from the necking Vicky knew, but she couldn’t fault Mary for thinking that pecks were what she meant. Using her tongue had never occurred to Mary, despite watching Vicky use hers. 

“I can’t see, though,” Mary said, moving her head back to his chest. “I need to see what you’re doing to him.” 

She had a point, so Vicky didn’t protest. She lowered her eyes to Henry’s shaft, watching her hand pump his length the same way he’d been doing to himself. Her hand was smaller than his, so it didn’t cover the same surface area. His balls were still hanging, showing he wasn’t close to eruption. She had to admire his stamina. If they swapped places, and Henry was fingering her, she wasn’t sure she could hold back with Mary’s enthralled gaze locked on her, learning how to finger her in the future. 

Vicky swallowed, calming her breath. She had to remain in control of the situation, at least until Henry was ready to step to the plate. 

“Try it this way,” Vicky said, lifting her lips to Henry’s neck. 

Henry gasped as Vicky scraped his neck with her teeth. She used her tongue as if French-kissing him, swirling against him and making his leg muscles flex. 

“Hmm, you liked that, didn’t you, Henry?” Vicky asked. 

“Uh,” Henry paused, looking at Mary. 

“It’s okay,” Mary said, encouraging him. “I’m learning how to please you, remember? You need to be honest.” 

Henry grunted. “Yeah, it, uh, felt great.” 

Vicky grinned and returned to necking as she stroked him. Mary watched for a few moments more, then kissed the other side of his neck, joining Vicky in pleasuring him. 

“Put your hand over mine,” Vicky told Mary. 

Mary wrapped her gentle but calloused fingers over Vicky’s, grasping Henry’s shaft in a way. Her thumb slid above Vicky’s on Henry’s shaft, making contact.

Henry braced his legs, flexed his muscles, and clenched his hands into fists behind them. 

Vicky returned to kissing his neck while Mary watched what they were doing to his dick. She pumped him at the same pace, but started twisting her lubricated hand in a tiny twist from her wrist. Mary learned the motion from her hand over Vicky’s, matching her pace with it. 

“That’s it,” Henry said, encouraging Mary. “That feels great.” 

“Do you want it faster or slower?” Vicky asked. “Tighter or looser?” 

“Faster,” Henry answered, his deep voice breathy with lust in a way that flooded Vicky’s thong. She could tell by the large stain on Mary’s panties that it had the same effect on her. Henry groaned, and Vicky returned to kissing his neck. 

Mary tried, but it distracted her from working his shaft and interrupted the rhythm they’d had going. She left his neck to Vicky, paying more attention to their hands around his shaft and keeping her pace steady. 

Vicky moved her hand on his shaft, lifting her fingers away and sliding out from under Mary’s grip. Mary kept her hand open, confused, but then Vicky closed her hand over Mary’s, pressing Mary’s fingers to Henry’s shaft. Vicky held Mary’s hand, which held Henry’s cock. Mary squeezed, testing the rigidity of his shaft as she stroked it. 

Henry shifted, twisting his torso a degree, but not moving far with Vicky and Mary pinning him to the sofa. 

“Oh, he enjoyed that,” Vicky said, encouraging Mary. “Try a looser grip at the base, and a tighter grip at the top of the stroke.” 

“This feels weird,” Mary said, not grossed out, but afraid. “It’s hard, but soft, and slick, but not wet.” 

“That’s okay,” Vicky said. “It’s just new sensations. Everything is as it should be. Now we just need to get him there.” 

“How do we do that?” Mary asked. “And won’t it ruin the carpet?”  

“Fair point,” Vicky said. “Here, I have an idea. Keep going.” She released Mary’s hand and slid to her knees. Vicky moved between Henry’s legs, pushing them apart. She pressed her breasts together, creating a target for Henry’s ejaculation, and rested her arms on his thighs. Her smile grew with every passing moment as his balls tightened, and she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, waiting for his seed. 

Henry was panting now, heavy breaths full of lust. His fist gripped the sofa cushion as though it were the difference between life and death. 

“Faster,” Henry whispered, and Mary increased her pace, pumping him hard and fast toward Vicky’s face. The tip of his cock was close enough that Vicky’s breath warmed it. The temptation to scrape her tongue against the underside nearly pulled her tongue past her lips, but she kept her tongue against her chin to respect their limits. This wasn’t a blowjob, and she left Henry’s dick in Mary’s capable hand. Vicky’s only remaining job was to act as a target, a place for Henry to unload. Then they’d see about her payment, her orgasm. 

Hopefully, if this went well, they’d invite her back for their next lesson. Henry had a respectable body and a decent dick; he’d be an excellent lover if Vicky were in the mood for a man. Mary’s body was thick in the best ways. Vicky could lose herself between those thighs and die happy, but Mary was too innocent to let Vicky’s tongue slide between her folds. 

Vicky licked her lips, wetting her tongue once more, and exhaled a ragged sigh of pleasure at the thought. Her breath washed against Henry’s cock as Mary pumped him and kissed his neck with her tongue and teeth coming into play. 

Henry braced himself against the sofa and shifted. Vicky closed her eyes as the first jet of his cum shot from him like a bullet, striking her forehead just below her hairline. She leaned back, trying to catch the next blast in her mouth, but it hit her cheek just beneath her left eye. She moved again, but the next blast struck her right eye, plastering her face above the nose with his cum. 

“Wow,” Mary said, her voice far away. 

Another blast struck Vicky’s chin as she straightened her head. She closed her mouth, and another blast struck her lips. She licked them, tasting Henry’s cum. The sweet-and-salty flavor mingled with her lip gloss, making her blush. He tasted too good. She opened her mouth for another blast, but he’d unloaded so many already that the last one didn’t have the force of the others. It fell short, landing on the breasts she still had pushed together. 

“Holy,” Henry cut himself off, melting into the sofa. 

“Is it always so much?” Mary asked, her voice shocked. 

Vicky giggled. She could only open one eye, but she could tell he’d coated her face. Vicky caught the bead of cum racing down her breasts and scooped it onto her fingers. She sucked her fingers into her mouth, cleaning them and moaning in bliss. Henry tasted so much better than Barry ever did. 

“No,” Henry said, answering Mary’s question. “But when it’s been a while, yeah.” 

“You sound sleepy,” Mary said. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. You can–you can stop.” Henry grabbed Mary’s hand, still pumping his shaft. 

Mary stopped pumping him, leaving her fingers wrapped around his cock. 

“Was that it?” Mary asked. 

“Yeah,” Vicky said, grinning. “Congratulations, Mary! You’ve given your first handjob! And you did great!” 

Mary giggled. “So what do we do with it all?” 

“We ask Henry to get us a warm washcloth,” Vicky said. “Until then, we do our best to lick it up.” 

“Oh,” Mary said, watching. “Oh! I’ll get the washcloth!” Mary hopped up and ran to the bathroom, pulling a washcloth from the linen closet and running steaming water over it. She rang it out at the sink, leaving Henry and Vicky alone for a moment. 

“You’re delicious,” Vicky said, wiping her face and licking the cum from her fingers. 

“Uh, thanks?” Henry said, unaccustomed to such compliments. 

“Is it that good?” Mary asked as she returned with the washcloth and knelt beside Vicky. 

“Taste for yourself,” Vicky said, scraping some from her face and offering her fingers to Mary. 

Mary tentatively stretched her neck, bringing her lips closer to Vicky’s fingers. She sniffed first, then stuck her tongue out. Vicky rotated her wrist, turning her fingers over, and Mary licked her fingertips. Vicky wiped her fingers on Mary’s tongue and lips, letting Mary’s lips drag against her fingers and scrape away the cum. 

Mary closed her mouth, moving her tongue around as if sampling wine. She swallowed, her expression inscrutable. 

“Did you like it?” Henry asked. 

Mary tilted her head, then nodded. “It was a weird texture, but not as bad as I expected. It was salty, but not like popcorn.” 

Vicky chuckled. “Washcloth, please, unless you want to lick the rest of this off my face.” 

She’d been joking, which was why Mary’s tongue against her cheek startled her. Mary giggled on all fours beside kneeling Vicky as she licked at Vicky’s face. 

Vicky flinched and fell away, falling to the other side with a “Wha!” 

Mary giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as she sat back on her heels. 

Henry caught Vicky under the arm and pulled her upright to her knees again. 

“I’m sorry!” Mary said. “You offered, so I thought it was part of it.” 

Vicky coughed. “It was, yeah, but I was just joking. I didn’t expect you to take me up on it.” 

“This entire night has been full of surprises,” Henry agreed. 

Mary put the washcloth in Vicky’s hand, and she used it to clean herself off one wipe at a time. She caught her breath, and Mary sat with her arm on the sofa beside Henry, who was still at half-mast. 

“So, did you enjoy giving your first handjob?” Vicky asked as she cleaned. 

“Yeah!” Mary said. “It felt great to make you feel good,” she said to Henry. “You enjoyed it, right?” 

“Yeah,” Henry said, still sagging into the sofa. “I enjoyed it a lot.” 

“Good,” Vicky said. “Then there’s only one thing to sort out before I head home.” 

Henry and Mary looked at her expectantly as she returned the rag to Mary. 

“My turn,” Vicky said. “I want my orgasm.”