Page 57 of Plays Well With Others

She looks down at my hands, squeezing her tits, kneading the flesh.

“You have big hands,” she says, mesmerized.

“I do,” I say, but I don’t addand you have big tits. Because that’s kind of douchey. This handful is realnicethough. As I play, I meet her gaze. “You feel fucking incredible.”

“I do?” she asks, and there are those nerves again. Those concerns. Maybe she’s having them because this is, obvs, our first time. Good thing I can reassure her from the bottom of my heart and cock.

“God yes,” I tell her.

She lets out a long sigh, maybe of relief. Whatever worries she had seem to have faded away.

Maybe I didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Maybe I just needed toshowher my desire.

I will gladly show her with my mouth, and my dick, and my hands, and my words. I spend another minute adoring her tits with my hands, rolling her nipples between my fingers, letting my thumbs travel over, up, and under till she’s panting and moaning. I kiss her breasts again and again, sucking on them, caressing them with my tongue and lips till she’s gasping for air.

When I raise my face, I say, “Guess Jane didn’t work.”

She blinks, barely focusing. “What?”

“The plant. It didn’t make me forget these at all,” I say, then pinch a nipple.

“Yeah?”

“Not. One. Bit,” I say, and I let go so I can unzip her pesky jeans. She helps me along, lifting her hips so I can scoot down the denim to her thighs.

And…I groan salaciously. “Jesus. They match,” I say stupidly, but how could anyone expect me to thinkun-stupidlyright now?

Her panties are pink lace and absolutely soaked. “I can’t believe I never knew you wore lingerie like this all this time,” I say, but then I replay that comment.

Of course I never knew what panties she wore. We’ve been friends for over a decade. This is the first time we’ve engaged inun-friendbehavior.

Maybe we do need to make rules before we cross the next line. “Rachel,” I say, seriously.

She goes stock-still. “Yes?”

“Are you sure about this? I mean, we’re still friends after. I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” I say.

She growls at me. “Don’t ruin the moment. Just fuck me. Please just fuck me. Can I make it any more clear?” she demands, and there she is again. Bold Rachel. I like all Rachels, but I do like this forward side of her in bed.

A lot.

“No, but maybe I can,” I say, then finish stripping off her jeans and her panties as she watches me with avid eyes. “Since I’m gonna fuck the last shreds of doubt right out of you.” I take her hands, bring them to the button on my jeans. “Take out my cock.”

Then her hands are eagerly sliding down the zipper, pushing my jeans down, right along with my boxer briefs.

My dick springs free and is so fucking happy to see her.

And yeah, maybe I did want her to walk in on me last night. Because ofthis.

Her reaction. The wide eyes. The parted lips.The moment when her mind asks the question.

The thing is—I’m a big guy. I’m supposed to be big to do my job well. For whatever reason—call it luck, good fortune, or just proportionalism at play—I was blessed with sizeeverywhere.

She gulps. “Will it…fit?”

That’s so fucking hot to hear her say.

But it’ll be even more fun for her to find out. I take her hand, wrap it around my shaft. “That depends, Sunshine,” I murmur, then I sigh happily as she fondles me. Up, down, then over the head.

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