It Was Just A Bit of Fun
written by:
Naughty Miranda

"It was just a bit of fun, I don't even know why I've kept them." I closed the box and carried it back into the closet.

"I think it's great. Never knowing when you're going to find one, or what it'll say when you do." Cassie was still sitting on the bed, smiling sadly to herself. "Plus, it gives you time to think about it, rather than having him just drop it into the conversation and expect an answer right away."

"Yeah, there is that to it," I smiled. "Although I kinda like the other way as well. I mean, if the mood's right, you can be game for anything."

She looked up at me, her eyes still red with tears. "I guess the mood wasn't right, then."

I crouched beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It will be."

Cassie's one of those friends that you really only see in times of crisis. Which, given her record with guys, is fairly frequently. As long as I've known her, which is four or five years, I've been one component within the select circle of ever suffering sisters to whom she turns when boyfriend problems raise their head, and she's so good at sucking you into her world that I really didn't mind pulling out that old box of memories and letting her root through it for a while. She'd just broken up with her boyfriend of three months, and while that was scarcely anything new for her, she's one of those people that treats every break-up like it's the first.

What was in the box? A game I used to play. Three years ago. Lester, the guy I was seeing at the time, came up with it. We all have little fantasies, he said, little things we want to try, but are worried that our partners might say no. So, how about we write them down on little pieces of paper, fold them up and then hide them around each others' bedroom? Then you find them, read them, think about it and, if the idea appeals, go for it. But, if it doesn't, then you pretend you never found it.

He was keen, as well. For as long as we were together, I could scarcely open a draw, or dust an ornament, without finding a little note tucked away, and for six months, our sex life was jumping. And then he jumped off with another girl and that was the end of that. But I kept all the notes he had left me, and all the ones I discovered after he'd gone, and now I'd passed the game onto Cassie. I hoped she'd have as much fun with it as I had.

Not right now, though. Right now, we had to figure out what to do about Lester. "We were making love, when suddenly he pulled out and said he wanted to put it up my ass. Not on it, which would be fine, but right up it. And I just lost it... I hate the thought of that, and I hate the idea that my so-called boyfriend...."

I nodded. I've done it, and I like it, but I've never understood why so many guys seem so keen to try it. What's wrong, aren't our other holes good enough for you?

"He's probably just curious. Maybe he saw it in a movie, or read something, some place." It's strange, when we were growing up, nobody ever talked about anal sex - that was something you heard maybe about later. Maybe.

But today? Everybody's up to it... or, at least, after it. And they can't all have sat through Butt-fucking Co-Eds volumes one to forty-three. Can they? Maybe it's true what they say, hardcore porn is becoming too accessible.

I knew she didn't want the relationship to end, and was fairly certain that he didn't either, especially if the half dozen messages he'd left on my answering machine were anything to go by. They were good for one another, after all, one of those couples that, once you've seen them together a few times, really do seem to be joined at the hip.

So, she should either give him an outright no, and hope he could live with her decision; or agree to try it once, on the condition that he'd stop if she asked him to - which is what I would do. Or she could buy a whopping great strap-on and tell him he could only have her ass if she could have his first. But I didn't say that one aloud.

That was three days ago and, to be honest, I thought they'd have worked things out by now. In fact, they had - only for something else to flare up, I don't know what, that sent Cassie flying home in a rage, and Lester... I was just getting ready for bed, half-watching the news as I dried my hair from the shower, when the doorbell rang.

I pushed the intercom. "Yeah?"

Half drunk and completely heartbroken, Lester sounded dreadful. I wrapped a robe around me, and buzzed him up.

I've always said it. Cassie couldn't have picked a cuter guy if I'd been doing the picking for her, and I could feel his eyes on me as I fixed him a drink and wondered, not altogether enthusiastically, if I shouldn't go put on some clothes. In the end I decided not to. My robe covered everything that it needed to, and quite a bit more besides, and if my bare legs gave him something to think about, beyond whatever misery was consuming him, then all the better.

It was a difficult conversation, though, one of those talks where you both know what you are saying, but where manners, embarrassment and general politeness prevent you from actually saying it. So we talked around in circles for half an hour until finally, I'd had enough.

"Okay, look, we're not getting anywhere here. You obviously want to tell me what really happened, and I know what Cassie told me took place. So how about if we drop all the coyness and just use the words? You wanted anal sex and she said no. Correct?"

The expression on his face... I don't think I have ever seen a guy look so stunned. In fact I almost apologized when I suddenly realized that it wasn't my words that did it.

"Is that what she said?"

I thought back. Was it what she said? It was certainly the impression she gave. I offered a half-hearted "uh huh," and then asked what he thought happened.

He was blushing. "I can say... what we were doing?"

I nodded.

"You won't get mad?"

"If she didn't, I won't."

"I went down on her. She... uh, she likes that, okay?"

I nodded.

"So she was on some cushions... so I didn't crick my neck, and her ass was... I... well, I...."

"You..." I prompted, and he blurted it out. "I told her I wanted to lick her ass hole."

"We were making love, when suddenly he pulled out and said he wanted to put it up my ass." Those were her exact words. She didn't say how they were making love, she didn't say what he wanted to put up her ass. And it doesn't sound like he used that term, anyway. Huh.

"Well, some girls... and some guys, too. They just don't like..." I began, but he cut me off. "But that's it. She loves it when I...." Again the embarrassment, again a prompt. She loves it, he said, when he sticks a finger up there while he's eating her, or when they're fucking. He'd have fucked her there too, except the couple of times they tried, they couldn't get the angle right.

"You probably shouldn't have said anything," I murmured. "You should have just done it."

"I thought it would turn her on to know..." he paused. "To know how much I wanted to do it."

I couldn't help myself. "Yeah, I know what you mean." I'm not a big one for sex talk, especially when it gets in the way of doing other things. But occasionally it works and, quite honestly, that would have worked for me. Especially if it came out of the blue. Which, I'm slightly ashamed (but not really) to say, is the only explanation for what happened next.

I'm still not certain quite how it started. Something I said as I passed him the wine bottle; something he said as his hand touched mine. The way my robe chose that moment to come untied, the way his other hand slipped beneath the cloth and round my waist.

The way I didn't resist as he pulled me closer, and my hand stroked his hair as his lips grazed my belly. The way it felt as he kissed me, and his tongue made rough sweeps across my flesh, and his intake of breath as his hand brushed my pussy and he discovered that unlike the last cunt he'd eaten, mine was proudly unshaved.

The sheer joy in his moan as his tongue swept up my slit, and the way I had to steady myself as that first touch sapped all the strength from my legs. And then I was bent over with my back to him, my hands gripping onto the arms of an armchair, my ass in the air and my pussy spread wide as he licked and sucked at it from behind... and fuck, he knew what he was doing.

And I knew what he wanted to do.

"Lick my asshole," I breathed. "Now." And he did, gentle tentative taps with his tongue that were maddening in their brevity, but each one felt firmer, each felt more confident, and then that wonderful moment when hands pull at your ass cheeks to spread your hole wide, and his tongue slips in for the very first time.

Still probing, still gentle, but bold as well, pushing its way in, moving deeper but dancing as well as it delved, hot and wet, soft but firm. Slipping in, then sliding out, fucking my ass with his tongue, greedy and grasping and then a finger in my pussy... two fingers... three?

My own hand joined them, blurring my clit as his movements grew more frantic too, and I wished that I could curl myself in a ball, double jointedly stretching till my mouth reached his cock... to have one man filling all three of my holes, while my entire body sang with the most exquisite feelings....

I came; an orgasm that began in my belly, then spread like a fireball through every inch of my body, that buckled my legs as I screamed with joy, and that marvelous tongue didn't falter or fail, just kept on drilling into my ass, till I had to collapse almost weeping to the ground.

Then we were laughing and I was holding his cock, as rock hard as any I had ever touched before, and as I leant over to take its fat head in my mouth, I knew that it would be so easy to do this, to suck him and swallow him, to have that third hole filled.

But not tonight. Not now. Instead I raised myself and kissed his mouth. He was sitting on his knees, his cock howling for attention. "You know?" I whispered, "something tells me we'd have no problem at all getting the angles right tonight." Then, on all fours before him, I wrapped my hand around his dick, and maneuvered the tip to my saliva-soaked asshole.

He grunted and pushed and my fingers gripped the rug beneath them as my body opened up to that beautiful thick prick. Then slowly, so slowly, he began to move, and the only thing I knew I wanted at that moment was for him to cum as hard as I had. Because if you think it feels good when your cunt's full of cream, it feels even better when your gut's full as well.

"So what are we going to tell Cassie?" he asked, as we finally curled up, exhausted and spent. I kissed his chest softly. "Probably best to say nothing. But..." I wasn't quite sure how to word this, so I let my thoughts just tumble out. "If you ever want to fuck my ass with your tongue again, you know where it is."

He laughed. "I don't think I'll ever leave."

Hmm. I tried to imagine how that explanation would go. "Well, it was just a bit of fun...."