ONE: Charlie

On his sixteenth birthday, Bishop and Lane and I sat smoking and drinking and touching on his roof. The previous week a hurricane had shrieked through and the sky was dark grey and empty and quiet. The trees has prematurely lost their leaves, had been scared into the winter state of mind, and they stood naked on the street below us. No one was out, the city was busy responding to the natural disaster and their minds were nowhere but drowning in their own problems.

We had two woolen blankets, one large and one small, with us and while I sat huddled in my own, Bishop and Lane snuggled close together. The pink touch of blood on Lane’s pale cheeks and the heavy breath coming from between two bloody lips told me Bishop was pleasuring her. Her head hung back and her eyes were closed as she dragged on her cigarette, as she enjoyed his touch. I watched the two of them closely, tried to notice all the little details: Bishop’s deep grey eyes as he focused not on the world around him, but on the movements of his hand; Lane’s wild, artificial magenta hair curling and framing her face; her skin pressing so hard against his as though she was magnet and he was metal.

I took a deep drag from the cigarette between my fingers and leaned back in one of Bishop’s blue plastic reclining chairs. I had been patiently waiting my turn to touch and be touched for a long time this night. I wanted the burning and the yearning to be satisfied and stop. It was Bishop’s birthday, though, and I had to let him be selfish with Lane. Then I could be selfish, too.

A gust of cold, clean air blew over the rooftop and I felt the freezing in my bones and I needed heat. I got up and walked over to Bishop and Lane where they sat, backs pressed up against the stairwell door, and joined them. Bishop didn’t stop his movements under the blanket but his gaze turned and his endless eyes encapsulated me. I reached under my blanket and touched myself, feeling my temperature rising quickly, suddenly. I felt a hand on my thigh, the size and weight told me it was Bishop’s, and I moved my hand aside so he could have access. When he touched me between my legs, I felt a burst of fire scorch through me, starting I my crotch and moving through to my stomach, my legs, my arms. My body went limp and my eyes shut and I relinquished control to him.

Soon I felt another set of hands, small and dainty, one hand on my cheek, the other on my lips. I opened my mouth and felt Lane’s tongue slip inside and begin to caress mine. I licked and kissed and nibbled on her until she moved away and I opened my eyes. She was standing in front of me, dressed only in Bishop’s long flannel shirt as he stroked the inside of her thigh. She reached under the shirt and pulled down a pair of small pink underwear that she tossed aside before lying back down on the ground and spreading her legs to show us her flower. I saw Bishop salivating from the corner of my eye and felt the hardness between my legs. Bishop moved forward and placed himself between her legs, his pants on but unzipped, and unbuttoned her shirt. She was wearing a bra with a clasp in the back so I went behind her to help him unhook it and release her breasts, which were perky and soft. Bishop leaned forward and took one small pink nipple into his hungry mouth and I cupped the other in my cold hand and she shivered. Bishop kissed down her stomach and towards the sweet spot between her legs. He licked up and down, sucked her clitoris into his mouth, stuck his tongue into her until her body was shaking and rocking with pleasure. I looked at Lane’s exposed body, saw she was panting and sweating, saw Bishop lapping up the last of her juices.

He touched her between the legs once more and smiled. He took my hand and placed my fingers against her clitoris and I felt how swollen with pleasure it was and I smiled, too. When Lane caught her breath, she sat up and kissed Bishop deeply, passionately, lovingly, and giggled when she tasted herself there. I moved to the side to finish myself off as Lane rubbed him. Bishop and I held hands and squeezed each other when we reached maximum pleasure. We released at the same time, laughing through the delirium of happiness as the three of us collapsed together.

 

NakedLunch

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