A Weekend Unplugged

The last of the weekend’s pizza boxes had been shoved into the recycling bin, and the distant rumble of Ben’s truck had faded a good two hours ago. The house settled into a quiet hum, the kind that only happens when the boys are truly gone. Bonnie stretched out on the enormous sectional, her toes finding Demi’s thigh under a throw blanket.

“I can’t believe they took the camping gear,” Bonnie said, wiggling her toes. “Marcus hates bugs. He’s going to be a nightmare by midnight.”

Demi laughed, her long copper hair spilling over the arm of the couch as she tilted her head back. “Ben packed three kinds of bug spray. He’s prepared for the whining. He’s not prepared for what we’re about to do to his bandwidth.”

Bonnie snorted. “The Nest cam in the living room?”

“Unplugged it. The one in the hall too.” Demi’s grin was slow and wicked. “I thought we’d start with something visual. Get the mood right.”

Bonnie didn’t need to ask what kind of visual. Demi was already reaching for the remote, her curvy body shifting in a way that made the blanket slide off her hips. She was wearing tiny cotton shorts and a tank top with no bra, and Bonnie had been stealing glances at the sway of her heavy breasts since they’d finished cleaning the kitchen.

“You have something picked out?” Bonnie asked, her voice going a little husky.

“I have a playlist.” Demi clicked the TV on and navigated to a folder simply labeled “Research.” The first thumbnail that popped up was two women on a bed, one straddling the other’s face, and Bonnie felt a hot little pulse between her legs.

“Research,” Bonnie repeated, deadpan.

“I’m a scientist of the pussy, Bonnie. This is fieldwork.”

The video started. The women on screen were enthusiastic, all slick sounds and gasping moans, and within three minutes Bonnie was acutely aware of how close Demi’s hand was to her knee. Within five, Demi’s fingers were tracing absent circles on Bonnie’s shin. By the ten-minute mark, Bonnie had stopped pretending to watch the screen and was staring openly at the way Demi’s nipples had pebbled against the thin cotton of her tank.

“You’re not watching,” Demi murmured, not looking away from the TV.

“I’m watching something better.”

Demi turned her head, her green eyes catching the flickering light from the screen. “Smooth. Did Marcus teach you that?”

“Marcus couldn’t smooth-talk a golden retriever.” Bonnie shifted, letting the blanket fall away entirely. “Come here.”

Demi came. She crawled across the couch cushions with a deliberate slowness, her big ass swaying, and Bonnie’s hands found her hips before she’d even settled. They kissed for the first time that night, soft and exploratory, a reacquaintance after weeks of quick hellos and group dinners where they couldn’t do this. Demi tasted like the white wine they’d been drinking, crisp and a little sweet.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Demi said against Bonnie’s mouth. “Ever since the boys said they were going.”

“Me too.” Bonnie’s hands slid up under Demi’s tank, palms skating over warm skin and the heavy underside of her breasts. “I kept zoning out at work. Carol in accounting asked if I was okay.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“Allergies.”

Demi laughed and bit Bonnie’s lower lip, tugging gently. “You’re a terrible liar.” Her tank top came off in one fluid motion, and then there was nothing between Bonnie’s hands and Demi’s tits but air. Bonnie filled her palms with them, thumbs finding the tight pink buds of her nipples and circling slowly.

“Fuck,” Demi breathed, arching into the touch. “Your hands.”

“My hands what?”

“Shut up and keep doing that.”

Bonnie kept doing that. She rolled Demi’s nipples between her fingers, pinching just hard enough to make Demi gasp, then soothed the sting with flat-tongued licks. She pulled one stiff peak into her mouth and sucked, and Demi’s hips bucked against her thigh. The porn played on behind them, a soundtrack of wet noises and feminine cries, but neither of them was paying attention anymore.

Demi’s shorts came next. Bonnie hooked her fingers in the waistband and tugged, and Demi lifted her hips to help. The shorts caught on the generous curve of her ass, and Bonnie had to work them down, knuckles dragging over all that warm, freckled skin. When Demi was naked from the waist down, Bonnie sat back and just looked.

“You’re staring,” Demi said, but she didn’t sound self-conscious. She sounded pleased.

“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen in real life. I’m allowed to stare.”

“You’re allowed to do more than stare.”

Bonnie did more. She guided Demi onto her stomach on the wide couch cushions, and then she spent a long, luxurious while exploring that spectacular rear with her hands and mouth. She kneaded the plush cheeks, spread them, let her thumbs trace down the cleft. Demi shivered and pushed back into the touch.

“I want to taste you,” Bonnie said, and Demi made a sound that was half-moan, half-whimper.

Bonnie started with kisses, pressing her lips to the fullest part of each cheek, then working inward. She licked a slow stripe up the crease where thigh met ass, and Demi’s whole body jerked. When Bonnie’s tongue finally found the tight pucker of her asshole, Demi grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into it.

“Oh my god, Bonnie.”

Bonnie didn’t answer with words. She answered with her tongue, lapping and circling, making the ring of muscle slick and shiny. She pointed her tongue and pushed just inside, and Demi’s back arched like a drawn bow. Bonnie ate her ass with patient, devoted attention, alternating between broad flat licks and sharp little flicks, and by the time she pulled back, Demi was trembling.

“Bedroom,” Demi managed. “Now. I need the toys.”

They left a trail of clothes down the hallway. Bonnie’s shirt landed on a lamp. Demi’s tank was already somewhere in the living room. By the time they tumbled into the master bedroom, they were both naked and laughing, giddy with the freedom of an empty house and a whole night ahead.

Demi’s toy chest was a thing of legend. A vintage steamer trunk at the foot of the bed, it opened to reveal neatly organized rows of silicone, glass, and leather. Bonnie’s eyes went straight to the strap-on harness, a sleek black leather contraption with adjustable buckles.

“That one,” she said.

“Greedy.” Demi was already pulling out other things: a bottle of lube, a wand vibrator, and a small handheld device with a clear plastic cylinder attached. Bonnie recognized it from a website they’d browsed together weeks ago.

“The clit pump,” Bonnie said, her voice dropping. “You actually bought it.”

“I actually bought two. One for each of us.” Demi held it up, and the cylinder caught the lamplight. “You said you wanted to try it. Said you wondered what it would feel like to be even bigger.”

Bonnie’s clit was already prominent, a thick little button that stood proud from her folds when she was aroused. It was one of the things Demi loved most about her body, the way it responded so visibly, so eagerly. The idea of making it even larger, even more sensitive, made Bonnie’s knees go weak.

“Put it on me,” she said.

Demi patted the bed. Bonnie lay back against the pillows, legs spread, and watched as Demi squeezed a clear gel around the rim of the cylinder. The pump was cold when Demi pressed it against Bonnie’s pussy, positioning the opening directly over her clit.

“Ready?”

“Do it.”

Demi squeezed the bulb. The suction was immediate and intense, a pulling pressure that made Bonnie gasp. Her clit swelled into the vacuum, engorging, and Demi watched with rapt fascination as it grew plumper and darker.

“Look at you,” Demi breathed. “Fuck, Bonnie, look how big you’re getting.”

Bonnie propped herself on her elbows and looked down. Her clit was huge, twice its normal size, a fat glistening pearl that throbbed visibly with her heartbeat. Demi released the pressure and removed the pump, and the sight of it standing so proud and exposed made Bonnie moan out loud.

“My turn,” Demi said, and Bonnie took the pump with shaking hands.

Demi’s clit was smaller naturally, but the pump worked its magic. Bonnie watched it swell, watched the hood pull back to reveal the glossy head, and when she removed the cylinder, Demi’s clit was a perfect ripe bud begging for attention.

“Now we match,” Bonnie said.

“Now we play.”

What followed was the filthiest, most devoted pussy worship either of them had ever experienced. They arranged themselves on the bed in a sixty-nine, but this wasn’t the rushed, goal-oriented sixty-nine of a quickie. This was a slow, exploratory feast. Bonnie buried her face in Demi’s cunt and licked everything. She licked the swollen outer lips, the slick inner folds, the tight little entrance that fluttered against her tongue. And when she finally, finally dragged the flat of her tongue over Demi’s pumped-up clit, Demi screamed.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, it’s so sensitive—”

Bonnie did it again, lighter this time, just the very tip of her tongue flicking over the distended bud. Demi’s thighs clamped around her head, and her own mouth faltered on Bonnie’s pussy as she rode the sensation.

“Don’t stop eating me,” Bonnie ordered, her voice muffled against Demi’s wet flesh. “Suck my clit. Suck it hard.”

Demi obeyed. She sealed her lips around Bonnie’s enormous clit and sucked like she was trying to pull the orgasm right out of her. Bonnie saw stars. She returned the favor with interest, taking Demi’s clit between her lips and nursing on it, letting the suction build and release in a rhythm that had Demi sobbing.

They edged each other for what felt like hours. Every time one of them got close—and Bonnie could tell by the way Demi’s ass clenched, by the way her own thighs started to shake—the other would back off, switch to gentle kitten licks or broad flat pressure that wasn’t quite enough. They climbed and backed down, climbed and backed down, until they were both dripping sweat and slick, the sheets soaked beneath them.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Demi finally gasped, pulling her mouth away from Bonnie’s cunt. “I need you to fuck me. With the strap. Now.”

Bonnie didn’t need to be told twice. She rolled off the bed and grabbed the harness, stepping into it with practiced efficiency. Demi had selected a moderate-sized dildo, curved and realistic, and Bonnie lubed it up while Demi watched with hungry eyes.

“On your hands and knees,” Bonnie said. “I want to see that ass while I fuck you.”

Demi got into position, her copper hair spilling over the pillows, her big round ass presented like an offering. Bonnie knelt behind her and ran the silicone tip through Demi’s folds, coating it in her wetness, teasing her clit with the ridge of the head.

“Stop teasing.”

“You love it.”

“I love it but I’ll kill you.”

Bonnie pushed in. Demi’s pussy swallowed the dildo in one long, slow stroke, and they both groaned at the sight of it disappearing into that hot pink grip. Bonnie set a rhythm, deep and steady, watching the way Demi’s ass rippled with every thrust.

“Touch yourself,” Bonnie commanded. “Play with your clit while I fuck you.”

Demi’s hand flew between her legs. She circled her pumped-up clit with two fingers, rubbing in tight fast circles that matched Bonnie’s thrusts. The sounds in the room were obscene—the wet slap of silicone into pussy, the squelch of Demi’s fingers on her clit, the raw guttural moans tearing out of both their throats.

Bonnie reached around and grabbed Demi’s tits, pinching her nipples hard as she drove into her from behind. Then she slid one hand down, down, past the dildo still pumping in and out of Demi’s cunt, and pressed two fingers against the tight star of her asshole.

“Yes,” Demi hissed. “In. Put them in.”

Bonnie worked the fingers in slowly, letting Demi’s body adjust to the intrusion. Soon she was fucking Demi in both holes, the dildo in her pussy and two fingers knuckle-deep in her ass, and Demi was making sounds that weren’t even words anymore, just animal noises of pure pleasure.

“I’m gonna come,” Demi warned, her voice cracking. “I’m gonna come so fucking hard, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop—”

Bonnie didn’t stop. She fucked Demi through it, felt the convulsions ripple around the dildo and her fingers, watched Demi’s whole body seize and shake. Demi screamed into the pillow, a long ragged cry that echoed off the bedroom walls.

When Demi collapsed, Bonnie gently withdrew and unbuckled the harness. She thought they might take a break, but Demi was already reaching for her, pulling her up the bed.

“Your turn,” Demi said, her voice wrecked but determined. “Lie back. I want to taste you while you use the wand.”

Bonnie lay back and Demi settled between her legs, her copper hair fanning over Bonnie’s thighs. The wand vibrator hummed to life, and Demi pressed it against Bonnie’s inner thigh first, teasing, making her squirm.

“Please,” Bonnie begged. “On my clit. Please.”

Demi touched the buzzing head to Bonnie’s pumped-up clit, and the world went white. The sensation was beyond anything Bonnie had ever felt—the suction had made her so sensitive that even the lowest setting felt like lightning. Demi held the wand steady while she licked at Bonnie’s opening, tongue-fucking her in shallow little thrusts, and Bonnie fisted her hands in Demi’s hair and held on.

“I’m close, I’m so close, don’t move, right there, right fucking there—”

Demi turned up the wand. Bonnie’s orgasm hit like a freight train, slamming through her body in wave after wave. She squirted—actually squirted, a gush of fluid that soaked Demi’s chin and the sheets beneath them—and Demi laughed in delight and kept the wand pressed to her clit until Bonnie was begging her to stop.

They lay tangled together afterward, sweaty and sticky and utterly spent. The wand had been kicked to the floor. The strap-on lay discarded at the foot of the bed. Outside, the night was quiet except for the distant hoot of an owl.

“We should do this every time they go camping,” Bonnie murmured, her face pressed into Demi’s hair.

“We should send them camping more often.” Demi traced lazy patterns on Bonnie’s stomach. “Monthly. Weekly.”

“They’d get suspicious.”

“Let them.” Demi tilted her head up and grinned. “Ben would probably ask for video.”

Bonnie laughed, a tired happy sound. “Next time we set up the camera. But we make them watch it together while we sit there and critique their reactions.”

“You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

Demi kissed her, soft and sweet this time, all the urgency drained away. “I do. I really do.” She stretched, wincing pleasantly at the ache in her thighs. “Shower? Then I’m making pancakes. I’m starving.”

“Pancakes at midnight?”

“Pancakes at midnight are a sacred tradition of boys-are-gone weekend.” Demi swung her legs off the bed and held out a hand. “Come on. I’ll wash your back. And your front. And maybe we’ll get dirty again before we get clean.”

Bonnie took her hand and let herself be pulled upright. The house was still quiet, still empty, and the whole night stretched ahead of them like a promise. In the kitchen, Demi burned the first batch of pancakes because she got distracted kissing Bonnie against the refrigerator, and neither of them minded one bit.