A Taste of It

Sharing her boyfriend with her recently broken and dumped best friend seemed like a great idea at the time, at least till someone assumed to much and made a mistake that would cost him a lifetime of wonder... never assume all girls like the taste of it...

What?” Brenda asked.

“Just amazed at your openness when describing certain parts of your body, haven’t met many women that do that.” I said.

“He’s not use to other women talking openly about their parts, even though I tell him just how he should be ... my pussy all the time,” Sophia added.

“Oh you mean like calling my Va-ja-ja a pussy?” Brenda inquired.

“Exactly,” I smiled, “Or even saying anything about it to begin with.” I added.

“Sorry it sounds a lot hotter to me than calling it a vagina and a lot less dirty than calling it a cum whole.” Brenda hissed, “When I’m with a guy I have no problem calling his junk what it is, like calling it a penis, a cock, a dick, a shank, in public.” She smiled.

“I kind of find it a turn on hearing a woman talk the way you do.” I smiled. “Maybe sometime in the not too distant future, you’ll also call it yours.”

“Maybe, Mr. Pervert” she whimpered, raking her fingers through her hair, casting it off to one side, showing off her ripe, tanned neck.

“Damn, bastard,” Sophia interrupted, “Hitting on my best friend in front of me, Have you no shame?” she asked.