The hands came back and worked down to my waist, and then along my flanks. A voice said, “We’re going to come back to your butt later. But just for a moment...” A finger flicked under my nose. I smelled roses. It withdrew. A moment later, I felt a gentle fingertip, slithery with oil, circling my anus, and then, just a little, slipping in, still moving in a small circle. I couldn’t help starting to swivel my hips to match. Suddenly, there was warm heat, and I realized that a tongue replaced the finger. I groaned happily, and heard Kim croon, “Delicious. I must ration myself for now.”The team worked their way down the backs of my thighs, defining the muscles below my warm skin.[Annamarie: I’m visualizing the three of us in the gym, in brief leotards. We take turns doing squats, and admiring the ripple of glutes and hamstrings, then moving around to enjoy the flex of the quadriceps, firm breasts bouncing above.]Tickle and explore the backs of my knees. Nonverbally, they made me aware of. Not even a friendly hug or a New Years’ kiss. Well, to be completely accurate, the one time I had touched her was was still fresh in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to forget. Standing beside her at her desk, trying to show her how to work a new program I’d written, I leaned over and put my hand on her shoulder. I felt her stiffen, and slightly pull away, as though the feel of my skin against her repulsed and disgusted her. I quickly pulled my hand back and tried to hide the flush of shame and self-hate that filled my face. I never tried to touch her again.Back at the bar, Celeste and I got stinking drunk over the next four hours. Beers and shots and slammers, empty glasses accumulating on the bartop. Money ran out before desire to consume more did, and I helped her to my car, taking her keys with me. I didn’t want her driving, even though I was in no condition to drive myself. With typical male macho thinking, I was sure that I was able to drive better drunk than she was.They.
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