Bi Friends: Bryn Mawr au Go Go

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Cheating

Enjoy!

If you have observations, questions, comments, etc.,as long as they’re cheerful, feel free to e-mail me…………………

*****

They were both sitting on the edge of the bed, facing us and grinning so hard it must have hurt. Annie, I was used to, it was part of our routine… but Jo sitting next to her had slipped right into our world and the fit was very natural, warm and good, and especially funny. Jo was wearing a small man’s undershirt, or A shirt, over her tiny chest and nothing else. Annie had on panties and no top. Both were full of the joy of having done something deliciously wicked in front of someone else… that someone being me.

Anarkali had slept through the whole thing, but was brought up to speed as she was handed her morning cuppa coffee. When Anarkali was hung over, as she was now, it was like the end of the world for her… slow, quiet, and painful until she’d had coffee and a shower. She sat on the edge of her bed in the tiny dorm room, hair disheveled and just a few feet from the grinning Annie and Jo. I was still pinned to the wall, but I had to go for a morning p p. Naked, but no stranger to those in the tiny room, I hopped out of bed to go pee in a tall cup we kept for just such times. This was, after all, the dorm at Bryn Mawr.

“Can we see it?” the girls asked, still goofy, still grinning. I didn’t have to ask what ‘it’ was. “I’m OK with that,” Anarkali said through her hair in a comically miserable monotone. Hell, the beds were so close that just getting out of bed put me right in front of them. I stepped forward, they stared. “Can we touch it?” “I’m OK with that,” Anarkali said again, just as grimly hung over.

“Doink!” Annie said as she gave my willie a little poke, and the sound made the three of us crack up. Jo didn’t say anything at first, but ankara bayan escortlar she gave it a gentle stroke like petting a cat. “Can I touch these?” she said as she looked up at me, less of a grin and more of a warm smile. “I’m OK with that,” I said and Annie howled with laughter. Jo said nothing as she carefully cupped my balls and raised her hand up and down a few times. She rolled her thumb over the front of them while holding the back, then looked up again, smiled, and let them be.

Jo had entered our world.

Anarkali and I had a very busy life, between school, day trips to Philly, New York and DC, horseback riding at my folk’s farm, cooking and drinking with friends, and mad lovemaking. We designed much of our time together to leave some sort of room for a tryste. Picnics were somewhere where it was OK to sneak off for a kiss, campus strolls headed us off to favorite boffing places, especially the theater building. We weren’t obsessed, just enthusiastic!

One night, we met up at Dirty Frank’s bar in Center City, and I knew there was something different in the air, something not good. We had never been anything but open with each other, and I could tell something was on her mind, troubling her normally tender soul and making her tense. She’d had a few, and I downed a few shots of Bourbon and suggested we stroll up to Rittenhouse Square to enjoy the beautiful evening. We walked, hand in hand, then arm in arm, chatting yet somehow avoiding. I didn’t like it, and was genuinely worried about her.

We settled into a bench far enough away from everyone else in the park, and she burst into sobs. “I cheated on you!” she wailed, shaking and crying into my chest. I was a little floored, having been very monogamous for probably the first time in my very randy life. Before I could ask who-what-where-when-how, ankara seksi escortlar or not, she went on. “WITH ANNIE!”, she burbled. “SHE FUCKED ME UP THE ASS!” she wailed. I unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh while holding her and trying to comfort her. She was a little more drunk than I’d realized and uncharacteristically loud, especially when confessing such comically henious sex crimes. “Thats OK, honey, I’m sure it was just…” “SHE USED LESBIAN LOGIC ON ME!!!!!!”

That was it. I’d had a few, myself, and absolutely fell over, laughing. “Lesbian logic? What the hell is that?” She looked up, mascara running (why would a beautiful woman, with big beautiful brown eyes, gild the lily like that?) and started to laugh. “I just made that term up. What do you think?”

I sputtered through my smile that I thought I liked it, but not if it was making her upset. “Well, what would you call it”, she said as she sat up and smiled through her mess of a tear stained, beautiful face. Apparently they were drinking at our friend Margaret’s, and had had more than a few (what else is new?), and Annie had gotten a wicked look on her face and leaned in and announced she wanted to ask Anarkali a series of questions, and expected honest responses. The request was agreed to and Annie began…

“If I jerk off (an odd term for a girl to use, but it was what Annie liked to call it) in our dorm room and you’re there, is that cheating on your boyfriend?”

“No”, was the proferred answer.

“If you jerk off in our room and I’m there is that…?”

“No.”

“If we both jerk off at the same time, and we’re both awake and KNOW we’re both doing it, is that cheating on your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“If I lend you my wand, and you use it while I jerk off, is that…?”

“No.”

Apparently, bayan ankara escort Annie had gotten herself quite worked up at this point, smiling, laughing, but all with a decidely wicked twist.

“If I hold onto the end of it while you use it, while I’m jerking off, is that cheating on your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“If I put it in your ass, and hold onto it and work it, while you jerk off and so do I, is that cheating on your boyfriend?”

Anarkali confessed to me that she thought all of this was so delightfully, drunkenly silly, and yet humor was no stranger to our various approaches to sex, and of course she was now dying to know where her nutty friend was going… so on they went…

“No,” she said.

“THEN,” Annie said, rising triumphantly, or at least as triumphantly as such a tiny gal could muster, “if I add a strap to the wand and strap it on me, and fuck you up the ass, would that be cheating on your boyfriend?”

“… Well… I suppose… no?”

At that point Margaret burst back into the room, wearing some heavy, vintage faux Oriental smoking jacket robe and her head wrapped up with black cloth like the invisible man. She wasn’t supposed to be there, or at least Anarkali wasn’t supposed to acknowledge her presence, like in a Japanese No play, and Margaret and Annie whisked her into the parlor and and spread her over huge pillows and fucked her up the ass with Annie’s ‘wand’ and Crisco, like a gay cartoon.

Anarkali finished her tale and batted her messy eyes at me, looking like Tammy Fay Baker gone Bollywood. I’m not easily silenced, and wanted to make sure I proceeded with caution. It seems that she wasn’t worried about the anal sex with two of her Bryn Mawr buddies, it was just that Annie had couched each step in the ‘cheating or not cheating’ scenario and Anarkali had felt like maybe she HAD cheated the next morning. “During your terrible hang over,” I noted. Yes, she agreed, but it really had bothered her all the next night, all night long. She really did love me so much.

And I loved her so, very, very much………….

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