The XXX Weekends

By K.C. Cave

Text copyright 2015 K.C. Cave

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental. This e-book includes descriptions of explicit sex and is for adults only. The stories in this e-book are completely fictional and are meant to be taken as fantasy. The author does not endorse or condone practices like incest, rape, or rough sexual encounters in any form. All characters depicted in these stories are 18 years old and above.

Melanie pulled the door to the handicapped stall behind her and yanked off her wet panties, as ordered.

What the fuck am I doing? That crazy bitch Junie will be here in two minutes. Has she done this before? Is she a serial ladies room perv? Why did I agree to this?

She answered her own question: Two glasses of wine and soaking wet panties, the result of us planning our upcoming weekend of nonstop lesbian sex. I’m lucky she didn’t get on her knees and start lapping my cunt under the table.

Hiking up her skirt, Melanie plopped on the toilet seat and released. She flushed, and, just as she finished wiping, the women’s room door opened and fast footsteps echoed off the walls. The stall’s door flew open.

Junie attacked, pulling Melanie to her feet. She pushed her against the back wall, and kissed her deeply. While her tongue pushed into Melanie’s mouth, her hands pulled at her skirt, exposing her bare behind. Junie pushed a knee between her legs and spread her wide. Melanie, straddling the toilet, responded instantly, her pussy slick with need as Junie inserted first one, and then two fingers, into her and began thrusting.

“Fuck, Junie, goddam, what if someone…” Melanie protested between kisses.

“We’re the only women in the restaurant. If someone comes in, just shut the fuck up. Unbutton your goddam blouse.”

Melanie’s fingers flew at the buttons. With her free hand, Junie pulled her bra down and clamped her mouth on Melanie’s rock-hard nipple.

It was unreal. Just over two minutes before, Melanie had been sitting across the table from Junie in the elegant restaurant. And now this: She’s fucking me in the ladies room!

The bathroom door opened, and the women froze.

Junie clamped a hand over Melanie’s mouth. Then came the sound of water rushing in the sink.

Junie’s fingers had stopped in mid-thrust as they stood intertwined in the cramped stall, their hearts pounding. But she ground the heel of her palm slowly into Melanie’s clit as the unseen person washed her hands at the sink. With her other hand, Junie slowly grazed the pad of her thumb across Melanie’s smooth lower lip. The touch tingled lips above and below the other woman’s waist.

At the blast of the hand dryer, Junie resumed pumping her fingers deep into Melanie’s vagina.

The door opened and closed. They were alone again. Junie crushed her lips against Melanie’s.

Melanie exploded, her hips thrusting as she came into Junie’s hand. The fire of her orgasm sizzled its way through her body and melted a liquid path down her legs.

They both started at the sound of liquid splashing in water. Was someone in the adjacent stall? Was there a third person in the restroom?

“Junie! What the…”

“Goddam, Melanie! Look!” She had squirted all over Junie’s hand, her juices running down her wrist and forearm. Melanie watched as a rooster tail of liquid squirted out of her pussy and cascaded into the toilet bowl.

“Am I peeing?”

“I don’t think so.” Junie sniffed her hand, dripping with the liquid. “Doesn’t smell like pee. Have you ever squirted?”

“No, I don’t think so. I peed before you got here.”

Junie pulled Melanie into her and kissed her hard. “You
are
a dirty slut.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard and so fast in my life.”

“That’s just a warm up for our honeymoon. Anyway, I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. Clean yourself up, Melanie. You’re a mess.”

“What about you? Can I make you come?”

“Let’s not push our luck. Michael will take care of me tonight. I’ll email you Amtrak tickets later in the week.”

And she was gone.

Just two hours before, Melanie had met Junie in the same elegant restaurant where they had arranged their prior assignation. The surroundings—the crisp, white tablecloth, the crystal wine goblets, the bustling waiters, the clinking of glasses—gave her an erotic charge. They were all reminders of what happened after the first time she met Junie here—explosive sex in a hotel room with Michael, Junie’s husband, a guy who had been kept in an acrylic cock cage for over a year. And the other part of the bargain—her first lesbian tryst with Junie a week later.

Now they were setting up their next sex romps.

“You should have seen the look on your face when I told you there was a price for sleeping with me again,” Melanie said, proud of herself for upping Junie, the acknowledged sexual athlete. Junie had made it clear that she wanted to make love to her again, but Melanie negotiated the deal. Her price: Michael.

“You catch on fast,” Junie said. “And you know what you like. I admire that. But we’re not finished negotiating.”

“What else can I give you?”

The women hadn’t touched since they sat down. They were on their second glass of wine. Junie reached for her hand, resting palm up on the table, made a fist, and placed it in Melanie’s open hand.

Melanie’s stomach dipped with pleasure. “I didn’t forget what I promised.”

“I have a requirement. Yes, you can have Michael. His next draining is in two weeks, and he’s all yours. In fact, take him for the weekend.”

“Does he really like me that much? To spend a couple days making love to me?”

“First, it doesn’t matter. He does what he’s told. Actually, though, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you. And certainly in lust. I made him tell me in detail what went down between you two. He’s quite transparent.”

“That’s hardly an onerous requirement.”

“That’s not it. What I need from you is your agreement to be, uh…” Junie looked away. “Why does this always happen when I’m with you? I’m almost never at a loss for words.”

Melanie waited.

“You’re tight, Melanie. A weekend of romping with Michael and his extraordinarily small peepee isn’t going to do much to remedy that. I want you to, uh, experience another lover who can…”

“Gordon, right? Your highly endowed black lover?”

“I was curious, so I made a fist and held it up to Gordon’s cock. Much to my surprise, my fist is wider. He’s like, Woman, what the fuck are you doing? I explained to him my dilemma. I really want to fist you. I
am
going to fist you. But, poor Melanie, you’re so inexperienced.”

Junie paused.

“A lot of women are just staggered when they see his cock the first time. Out of necessity, over the years he’s developed a technique. He’s figured out how to make a woman relax, put her in control, and loosen up. That way, it’s not a question of him putting his cock in. It’s the woman comfortably making the adjustments and engulfing him. Really, it’s just mind over matter. The vagina is all muscle, it stretches. After all, it
is
the birth canal.”

“I see where this is going.”

Junie nodded. “So, Gordon suggested that he could help—as an intermediate step before we get together. Not an entirely selfless offer on his part, obviously. He loves fucking white women. Gordon has no shortage of lovers, however. So it really is considerate of him.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He was a grad student and teaching at my high school. I seduced him. He didn’t know what hit him.” Junie smiled at the memory. “I had made up my mind I was going to have him. Before he could object, I was sucking his cock in a storage closet.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“God, yes. He was terrified I’d open my yap and he’d lose his job, or worse. I was discreet, however. We had our affair during my last two years of high school.”

“Do you remember the first time?”

“Vividly. It was in the woods behind the school.”

“Did it hurt?”

“I almost fainted when I saw his cock. But I had already stripped down to nothing, and there was no backing out. But I was sexually active—had been for years. He bent me over and took me from behind.
Slowly
. It burned at first, but I adjusted. And I came!”

“And since high school?”

“Off and on. We’re good friends. And fuck buddies before there was such a thing.”

“So, how is this going to work? Will this be a threesome?”

“Gosh, no, Melanie. Gordon detests Michael. The cuckolded husband and all that. Gordon will be out of town most of that weekend. We worked it out. He’ll meet you at a bar Sunday afternoon. He’ll buy you a drink. I can comfortably predict he’ll seduce you. If it makes you more comfortable, you can take him to my place. Michael will be there. That should up the comfort level for you.”

“What about you?”

Junie’s faced turned quizzical. “Me?”

“Don’t you want to be there? To watch your black lover, you know, stretch me?”

“Heavens no, dear. Why would I want to do that? Anyway, I’ll be away that weekend.”
Lunch arrived, and the women’s conversation turned to politics. Earlier that day, the Supreme Court had ruled that gay marriage is legal in every state.

“It makes me so happy to see lesbians walking down the street hand-in-hand, smooching in bars, dancing in clubs,” Junie said as the table was cleared.

“I know two couples who are getting ready to tie the knot.”

“It’s made me think about our weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“If you get Michael for a weekend, it’s only fair that I get you for a weekend, right?”

“Sure. What are your plans?”

“Gay marriage is in the air. Can’t you smell it?” Junie grinned.

“What in the world are you leading up to?”

“You’re going to be my wife, Melanie. For two whole glorious days. We’re going to go on our honeymoon. We’re going to parade around town, arm in arm, holding each other tight, smooching and cooing.”

Melanie stiffened. “I am not a lesbian.”

“No! Neither am I! We’ll pretend! It’ll be fun.”

“Junie, I can’t strut around Boston…”

“I didn’t say
here
.”

“Where?”

“In D.C. I’ll be at a conference at the Library of Congress that ends Friday at five. I’ll pick you up at Union Station at six forty-five. I’ve got reservations at a great little boutique hotel just off Dupont Circle.”

“I see.”

“Think of it. Two hot chicks dressed to kill, hanging off each other. D.C. is so straight-laced and self-important. We’ll stand out, but in a nice way. We’ll make a splash wherever we go. People will nudge each other and say, Look at those hot lesbians! On Saturday, I’ve got tickets for the ballet at the Kennedy Center. I’ll buy you a drink at intermission. Well, actually, the whole weekend is on me.”