Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Potato Salad

Editor’s note: Shelby’s accounts of Memorial Day may be found here and here.

Meg and I slept like rocks.

We are both early risers by habit as opposed to inclination, so we made a point of sleeping late. Or as late as we could manage.

We kissed each other awake around eight.

“Good morning,” I smiled, reaching for a condom.

“Morning,” she grinned, rather shyly.

We made orgasms for breakfast.

I wanted to get her off a few times, keeping the sex sweet and gentle.

I knew that Shelby would be itching for some rough stuff when she arrived that afternoon to “surprise” Meg—never mind that Todd had already leaked advance information about Shelby’s trip to the city.

I was still playing it cool about that.

Meg checked her email as I cleaned the kitchen.

“What time is Shelby coming?” Meg asked.

“Shelby?” I feigned ignorance. “Oh, is she coming?”

“Her away message says ‘I’m off to New York—and you know what that means,’” Meg said. “You can knock it off.”

Bollocks. “Fine, she’ll be here in an hour.”

Shelby arrived in full summer glam—dark wraparound sunglasses, plunging backless blouse and a tight skirt.

No underwear, for as everyone knows, Shelby eschews panties in favor of feeling the breeze.

She dropped her bag, removed her sunglasses and kissed me. She kissed Meg. I took her by the hand and led her to meet my sexy twins.

Shelby wrapped her arms around me in the bedroom. “You know what I want to do?” she asked.

Sure, I knew what she wanted to do.

She wanted to hogtie Meg and cane her pale flesh.

She wanted us to take turns filling Meg’s ass and pussy with toys and cock.

“Tell me what you want to do,” I smiled into her eyes, shifting her hips with my hands.

“I want to eat bar-b-que!” she exclaimed. “Do you know, I always have to work on bar-b-que holidays. Finally, I have one off!”

Sure, well, we can do that.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” I lied.

The three of us walked to the supermarket and returned with all the fixings. Meg read on the terrace as Shelby and I prepared potato salad.

We mixed it in a large metal bowl.

Potato salad is very simple. You just have to get the mix right, and season to taste.

Just follow your tongue.

Taste—more paprika. Taste—more chives.


“Now what?” Shelby asked.

“Now this has to chill, and we have time to kill.” I put the potato salad in the refrigerator. “C’mon.”

We went to the bedroom and undressed. The door was left open. Meg knew she was welcome to join us.

She also knew that it’s nice to give people space.

We lay nude in each other’s arms, our eyes guiding us to that rapt place we know.

Nice and slow. Kissing, touching.

“I need my dick in you.”

“I know. I’m pretty wet.”

I was in her. “You are wet, baby.”

My hands held her face, her eyes closing as I pushed deeper and harder.

I kept slow, wanting her to feel how hard I grew inside her.

I pushed her legs back, aiming the curve of my cock to her g spot.

I grabbed a small breast in my hands, roughly, and pinched hard on a tender pink nipple.

I allowed my imagination to fixate on her smooth bare skin.

I allowed my teeth to bite.

She moaned, shifting to loud wails. Her body twisted under mine.

As she grew still again, my lips made their way to hers.

“Welcome back, baby.”

“It’s been a long week,” she said.

“I know.” I pulled out and lubed my fingers. I massaged her pearl clit with my thumb.

“Uh, baby?” she interrupted. “Potato salad?”

“I love me some potato salad,” I confirmed, my tongue dropping to her slit. “So sweet and creamy . . .”

She grabbed my ears. “I was referring to the potato salad in your ‘fridge, not between my legs.”

“Right. Right. I knew that.”

“We need to eat.”

My eyes dropped to the wet pussy under my chin. “I’m getting mixed signals here.”

“Let’s eat bar-b-que.

“Not following . . .”

“Get your sweet ass to the kitchen and cook, dammit. Meg’s got a bus to catch.”

Meg. Right. How rude of me.

In short order, we had a fine Memorial Day feast. Chicken wrapped in bacon and bar-b-qued. Potato salad. Sliced watermelon. Wine for me, gin for the girls.

We chatted and stuffed ourselves.

We chatted some more.

Meg had to leave.

We would have to beat her another time.

“Thanks for the lovely weekend,” I said, kissing her goodbye. It was a long kiss, as languid as our days had been.

“I had a lot of fun. I’ll be back if you’ll have me.”

“Come back. I’ll have you.”

She kissed Shelby goodbye.

She hoisted her bag. I showed her to the door. We smiled and waved.

“The weekend with Meg was nice,” I told Shelby when her friend was gone. “Very relaxed, very mellow.”

“Yeah. Speaking of relaxing, let’s get back in bed.”

“Right behind you.”

We undressed and fell back into one another’s arms.

“Alone at last,” she smiled. “Do you know this is the first time we have been alone together in two weeks?”

“S’at so?” I replied, twirling her hair between a forefinger and thumb. “Kiss me.”

On her way to the subway, Meg ran into Todd.

He was headed to my place.


Viviane said...

BBQ: wet or dry?

Jefferson said...

Now Viviane, you really shouldn't feed such easy lines.

But to rehearse my part:

"Oh, it was wet all right--plenty wet."

Viviane said...

What can I tell you, I'm a Yankee. We must be forgiven our ignorance about the nuances of BBQ.