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Hot Buttered Beach Babe

Robin Coxley-Hall

Copyright 2017 by Robin Coxley-Hall

Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo

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Since previously exiting the shower nearly an hour before, Soleil, Brent’s beach volleyballer girlfriend, had paraded about the flat naked; save for the miniscule silk wrap she used as a robe. They’d had sex in the shower once already, and as sexy as she was, they had business to take care of before another round of slam-bam fun could be rightfully mounted and fully engaged in, or so Brent decreed.

Soleil was obviously grinding Brent’s buttons, hoping to ignite his ever-smoldering lust to flaming fruition, thus kindling his ample penis toward a hugely satisfying erection, such as it was. Her most wished-for use for it consisted of a roughly dealt face-first shove flat onto the kitchen table, amidst the breakfast setting, and getting her nice tight pussy drilled from behind with the full jackhammer force of Brent’s bodybuilder physique. With his lust angered-up he was sure to grab a good hold of her fine blonde mane, and give it a stout pull thus arching her back upward while propelling her onward toward a full-on maddening orgasm.

Brent hated to be played like that. He pictured himself as a total Alpha, the kind of bloke that ruled all parts of their relationship with an iron will. He wanted the sole right to initiate their sexual goings-on in all its phases and every instance, with the possible exception of Soleil going down on him. It was a genuine delight to be gifted with an unasked-for blowjob. But that hadn’t happened in such a long time that he couldn’t remember it, Soleil hadn’t given him head for ages and it bruised his Alpha-ego pride, inflated, such as it was.

All that aside, there was their flatmate Sol to factor in. He’d put on puppydog eyes for Soleil from the start. Since Brent first offered her his spare key and Soleil took up residence, Sol had never stopped mooning and drooling over the gorgeous beach babe athlete, figuratively speaking, of course. Her long-limbed tightly-muscled 5’ 11” frame sent shivers of lust-tinged adoration coursing through every cell of his unworthy excuse for a male body. And that was when she was fully clothed. Sol imagined her as an all-powerful Sun Goddess from a distant solar system. As for any practical concern, Soleil could just as well have been from a galaxy far far away for all the chance Sol had at garnering the attention of such a long-tall Amazon of her anatomic stature. Quixotically, he crushed on her with a mad-dog rabid yen.

The woebegone flatmate was liable to emerge from his room at any time. He’d likely succumb to an instant sex spasm in the midst of Soleil’s diaphanous sylph-like wanderings what with all that testosterone flooding his nerdish fanboy bloodstream. In two minutes flat he’d no doubt beeline back to his room to give his little stiffy a good tug to sort himself out, the randy git, such as he was.

“Go put some clothes on,” Brent told his girlfriend, “and meet me in the front room so we can go over the tapes of your last tournament.”

“Bugger off,” she told him.


“You heard me,” Soleil chided. “I’ll wear what I damn well please in my own house, thank you very much. And, furthermore, they aren’t tapes, they’re Youtube™ vids streamed to the television. Which I hate watching with you, by the way.”

“Need I remind you,” Brent intoned, “that you don’t pay rent here? That hardly makes it your house, now does it? And furthermore, I’m your coach. It’s your job to listen to me. Quit bickering and do as I say.”

“Bickering’s the word for it, all right,” Soleil replied. “That’s all you do when we sit to watch those ‘tapes’ is bicker and bitch. Nothing I do is ever good enough for you. Never mind that I draw more fans than does any other player in our league. And, as for rent, whom are you kidding? You haven’t paid Sol one blessed penny in all the time you’ve stayed here, friggin’ freeloader. That’s a pot calling the kettle black!”

“Whatever,” Brent conceded, resignedly. “Wear what you want. I could give a damn. Just get your butt on the front room sofa because we are going to review these tapes! Er-videos…”

Soleil’s minor victory, flying in the face of Brent’s cold command, hadn’t been keen enough to suit the mood she was in. She needed a sidekick foil in the person of Sol to further upset Brent’s pompous air. She knocked at Sol’s door then opened it a crack, still wearing her slight robe, and invited him to join her on the sofa.

“Get out here and keep me company,” she said. “Taskmaster Brent is bent on issuing me stiff demerits for my last game. I need my friendly house-puppy roommate with me for moral support. Don’t bother to get dressed those boxers will do quite fine. Let’s go.”

The horny toad couldn’t resist, though he guiltily knew better somehow, in his heart there was no way he deserved to partake of Soleil’s thoughtful kindness. Still his Goddess’s slightest wish being his command and all that, he thusly obeyed.

When Brent saw that Sol was about to join them on the couch he protested. Soleil was indeed the star draw of her semi-pro league but it only paid chump change. She had the physical make-up to compete at the pro level, and start earning big bucks; she just lacked mental discipline. She coasted along on her gorgeous looks and instinctive ability. Soleil needed to buckle down, and mentally concentrate her focus on improving her technique, and furthermore, she needed to listen as Brent analyzed and critiqued her form and set strategy and all that. This wasn’t entertainment by any means. It wasn’t a ‘popcorn and a movie’ type viewing. It was serious brass tacks instructional review, and so on.

Soleil told him he sucked the fun out of everything. Why not just watch the video of her as she plays? She can see for herself what her flaws are. In fact, why not have popcorn while they watch? She sent Sol off to the kitchen to pop a few kernels.

When Sol returned with Soleil’s freshly hot buttered popcorn Brent once again tried to send him away. Soleil, in turn, intervened.

“My friend, Sol, is going to be a dear and feed me while I watch,” she said, much to Sol’s preference, and Brent’s pique. “I shan’t risk getting butter on my fingers. I might absentmindedly wipe them on this nice robe I’m wearing. What with my concentration totally being absorbed by your priceless critique, don’t you know?”

“Throw on your knock-around jeans and an old T-shirt of mine and your problem’s solved,” Brent suggested, ignoring her sarcasm.

“There’s no problem,” Soleil told him.

“Don’t think I can’t see what your up to,” Brent huffed. “You’re trying to get me riled up till I say ‘the hell with it’ and give up trying to improve your play. Well, it’s not happening. Besides, think about Sol, you’re tying him in knots dressed like that. Not to mention treating him like he’s your little bitch. It’s bad enough that you order him around to make popcorn for you, now he’s expected to feed you each mouthful by hand like you’re Soleil the Sun Goddess, or something? Why demean him to get back at me? That’s harsh.”

“Sol’s not complaining,” Soleil observed.

“That’s because you are practically naked,” Brent scolded. “Like any normal guy he can’t resist the sight of you like that, but you’re teasing the hell out of him. That screws with a guy’s brain after a while.”

“He and everyone else sees me in my beach gear all the time,” she averred. “It’s left little enough to his imagination, I’d say. He’s pawed me over with his eyeballs often enough thus far, why play the prim darling now? There’s no false modesty in my family. And who says I’m teasing? Maybe it’s time to give my little Sol a lapdog’s taste of what he’s been missing all these weeks I’ve shared his lodgings.”

“Maybe I should go,” Sol said, without leaving.

“Stay,” Soleil confirmed. “And treat your Sun Goddess in the manner she deserves.”

Brent looked away and shook his head resignedly. They began watching the videos of Soleil’s past games.

Brent plunged forward with his plan to review things but he knew it was no good. Soleil had gotten her way in the end; he had no choice but to let it play out.

Soleil slouched back on the couch and let her robe fall open wide as Sol dutifully fed her flavor-drenched popcorn. The melted butter of which dripped increasingly onto her bare body.

The liquefied dribble slid wetly along her bare chest, between the creamy mounds of her tiny perfect breasts, down the slope of her tantalizing torso, lending a deliciously slick scented sheen to her copper-tan abs, and so on, and so forth.

Brent did his utmost to ignore the rude going of his girlfriend and her underling. That is, until Soleil grasped Sol by the neck and drew him down toward her to savor the taste of her butter-basted skin. Wistfully her lapdog tongued her marinated body. As he willingly licked his goddess roommate well into her abs, she threw her leg over his shoulder and positioned her bitch to go down on her. Soleil’s hot-buttered cunt egregiously demanded it. And that’s what he did. Sol ate her pussy like it meant he’d live forever.

Brent stood and faced the pair, ready to lay down the law to the both of them. Until Soleil reached up and unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. By the look in her eye Brent knew what she had in mind. He positioned himself to where he crouched over her face to get head the likes of which he’d never gotten before. Soleil eagerly sucked Brent’s giant cock as Sol earnestly went down on her luscious cunt and the vibe on that couch went ballistic.


Later, Soleil entered Sol’s bedroom for a friendly chat to sort things out. Sol, having hastily fled the vicinity directly after his flatmates mutual final orgasms, and hole up in his room. Ironically, he curled up under the covers, trembling, too worked up to wank off. He’d just taken part in a threesome with two of the most excellent specimens of their respective genders he was ever likely to find. Surely the Apocalypse could not be far behind. Barring that occurrence, he expected Brent to punch him out once he’d recovered his senses.

Soleil tittered at his wild imaginings and lay down beside him to cuddle the poor soul. She’d showered and put on the ‘jeans and T-shirt’ outfit Brent had mentioned so it wasn’t quite as titillating as otherwise it might have been.

Brent had gone to the beach to scout out Soleil’s next adversary so she and Sol were all alone in the flat.

Relieving his fears, she told him Brent didn’t blame him for any of it. The three-way had been all her doing and he knew it. Furthermore, the two of them had come to a new understanding regarding their sex-life together. Soleil agreed to go down on Brent whenever he demanded a blowjob of her and Brent would likewise allow her to demand an equal number of pussy eating encounters from Sol. No sex, of course, just cunnilingus.

“Confidentially,” Soleil said, “I love going down on Brent. Doing deep-throat on his freakishly large cock is a task I cherish. It was Brent’s stern refusal to go down on me that put me off it for a time. Alpha is, as Alpha does, and all that, but, for the love of god--give a bleeding whore a break! I need my cunt licked once in a while.”

Sol perked up, “He never ever went down on you?”

“Never,” she exclaimed. “That is why I am so grateful to you for stepping up to fill the void, as it were. As far as I’m concerned you’ve let Brent off the hook for neglecting his oral duty toward me, thus allowing me to go down on his gorgeous cock every chance I get without feeling disrespected. You’re a lifesaver, is what you are, Sol. My champion little cunt-licker.”

Now Sol didn’t feel so bad. His guilt at violating the unwritten ‘Bro Code’ with his buddy’s girlfriend was totally assuaged. He started to relax.

Soleil snuggled closer to Sol and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. She explained that she held him in warm regard. She admired the way he earned a good living building web projects without leaving his bedroom, being cripplingly shy, such as he was. Tea and sympathy poured out of her as she told him it was a shame about his anxiety disorders and the paralyzing nature it had on his social outlook.

“There’s no need to be shy around me, you know,” Soleil whispered hushedly. “It means so much to me when you come out to watch me play and cheer me on. I know the difficulty you face by doing that. It warms my heart when you’re around. You’re my fanboy/mascot/good luck charm all rolled into one.”

She kissed his cheek again and, incredibly, Sol tried to reciprocate.

“No!” Soleil told him, much like a dog owner scolding a pup. “There’ll be none of that. Brent’s the lone stud in this house; he’s my man. Only he is entitled to kiss me freely anywhere on my body. I like and respect you Sol, or else I’d never let you eat my pussy, but that doesn’t give you the right to overstep the bounds of our friendship. It gives you no rights at all. There’ll be no ‘touchy feely’ going on between us unless I’m doling it out, like now. Is that perfectly clear?”


“All-righty, then,” she said, more subdued. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Sol. I know social cues are confusing for you already and here I am snuggling, cuddling, and planting pecks on your cheek. What I really came in here for was just to make sure you’re still in one piece and all right.”

“And for me to go down on you again, right?” He prompted wistfully.

That had actually not been her plan. It was a bit of a nice surprise that Sol had twice, in quick succession, come out of his shell and been forward toward her. First by trying to kiss her, and now by suggesting that he go down on her with Brent out of the way. Still, by rights, Soleil should have quashed his personal wishes, to keep him in his rightful place as her devoted lapdog, instead, she said, ”Sure, why not?”

She got out of her jeans and panties and lay back on a mound of pillows as Sol stretched out facedown lengthwise between her opened thighs and lingeringly ate her out.


For days on end, erotic bliss, such as it was, reigned supreme. Soleil lived in her Happy Zone. Morning, noon, and night, she was going down on Brent, getting head from Sol, or experiencing the best of both worlds by giving and getting head at the same time. In addition to all that, threesomes aside, intermittently getting fucked to the edge of insanity by Brent’s huge tool. Life was good, very, very, good. But her beach game suffered. She became a 24/7 sex-crazed roommate.

Soleil loved beach volleyball because she loved the sand, the sun, and the cheering fans, but she was never keen on practice or learning tricky strategy. She was one of the best volleyballers in her league by just showing up to play and she liked it that way. She harbored no Olympic ambitions or anything of that nature. In her opinion, major sponsors and big-money endorsements were pipedreams. That was Brent’s big-time fantasy trip.


One morning Sol awoke to the sound of syncopated clacking. Someone was tapping a tack hammer in sudden sharp strikes on the flat’s hardwood flooring, or so it seemed. Upon getting dressed and pursuing further investigation he discovered Soleil pacing about the flat in a women’s tailored business suit. Tight skirt, nice jacket--and sky-high stiletto heels that clacked loudly as she walked.

Sol nearly flipped.

Soleil was normally a boho beach chic kind of girl. Going barefoot, or wearing flip-flops, or cute beach scandals was the extent of her taste in footwear. He had no clue she owned an outfit such as this.

Brent had got her an interview with a cable sports channel in some unknown capacity “probably a receptionist or something”, she said. She needed to go to the corporate office in Burbank, or somewhere. Brent insisted she buy this outfit to wear.

“You’ve got to come with me,” she told Sol. “Brent’s competing at a bodybuilding event and I need you to drive.”

Sol readily agreed.

“How do I look?” she asked. She had her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and wore those fake librarian eyeglasses with black frames. Her collared white top, under an open dark blue blazer, was a fine cotton shirt, which because of her tastefully small breasts, she could unbutton almost to her waist without her tits spilling out.

Sol stared at the incredible display of bare skin the opened ‘V’ of her blouse revealed. The effect was astonishing. Considering that he’d witnessed Soleil’s amazing beauty fully naked at times, the incredibly titillating arousal he felt now, seeing her more or less fully dressed, freaking blew his mind.

The demure hair and glasses, the expensive sophisticated jacket, the screamingly sensual exposed skin of her chest and taut midsection, along with that short tight skirt, those long lithe legs in their sheer stockings and toe-cleavage-baring stiletto heels, the whole ensemble showcased Soleil in an unbelievably powerful way. The Sun Goddess Beach Babe suddenly emerged as a distinctly feminine Corporate Media Badass.

Soleil had been scurrying about the flat trying to locate an heirloom pearl necklace she’d misplaced that would go perfectly with this outfit. When she found it she handed it to Sol for him to clasp around her neck.

Sol stood atop a footstool to do the honors as Soleil faced away from him. As she held her hair out of the way, and Sol gazed down on the supple elegance of her graceful neck, this simple husbandly task somehow seemed heaps more intimate than getting down on his knees and plunging his face into the heat of her moist bush.

When the necklace was in place Soleil modeled it for Sol. “You’re quite adept at placing a pearl necklace about my throat,” she stated, with a sultry soft smile. “Much better than my lummox boyfriend is, in fact.”

Many times Sol had witnessed Brent finish off Soleil’s blowjob by giving her a ‘Pearl Necklace’, depositing his hot white orgasm across her upper chest and neck. As she fell back against the sofa, while Sol continued going down on her, Brent licked his steaming thick cum off her skin, eagerly swabbing his sloppy wet tongue over his clotted semen to mop it up, before pausing to savor the moment, and sucking it down with a vengeance.

Sol didn’t understand how a so-called Alpha-male like Brent could refuse to eat pussy on the grounds that real men didn’t do such things and yet he unabashedly ate his own cum. In any case, Soleil loved it when he did that. The proof was in the explosive orgasms she had in Sol’s face at such times.

The gleam in Soleil’s eye, as she teased him about kinky-ish sex, was immensely pleasing to Sol. She’d teased him before but never in such a specific way, and never in a way that suggested she might desire more from Sol beyond him going down on her. It nearly got his nut off.

“Please stop,” he sighed.

“What?” she said. “You used to like my teasing ways. I reckoned you quite enjoyed it as a matter of fact. I don’t know why I waste my time trying to be nice to the likes of you, Sol, sometimes—,“ she shook her head warily. “We both know you’d being eating my pussy just the same whether I treated you kindly or not. I like being nice to you. Mainly because you seemingly appreciated my efforts. Now you tell me, ‘STOP!’ Are you bloody out of your mind? What’s wrong?”

Sol explained he loved every bit of the personal kindness she bestowed toward him in the form of teasing and other small endearments. It was just that the two of them had to depart momentarily or she’d be late for her important meeting. He was about to have an orgasm in his drawers if her innuendoes continued, he said, precipitating the need for a change of clothes and possibly a shower.

“I’ve got just the remedy for that, luv.”

Soleil retrieved a condom from her bag, took down Sol’s trousers where he stood, and quick as a flash, she expertly unrolled it over his purple-headed erection. Soleil commenced giving him a handjob while crouching low to hold her forehead smack on his, staring him eye to eye, and wanking away.

Sol’s arousal grew exponentially. His orgasm hit within the first 3 tugs she’d delivered. In the midst of ecstasy Sol put his lips on hers and started making out with Soleil, sliding his tongue in her mouth without meeting resistance. Soleil released his throbbing cock and wrapped both her arms around Sol, unleashing a spit-swapping wallop of a kiss in answer to his.

It was over in less than a minute. Sol disposed of the soiled condom and the two of them drove off to her appointment without mentioning a word about what had just passed between them.

Soleil’s interview was for a cable network’s women’s sport division as receptionist/assistant to the woman who headed the update desk.

The division head was a buxom former college basketball star, named Roberta, who fizzled in the WNBA and thusly pursued a career using her degree in Communications. She personally liked Soleil on first impression, yet seemed to discount her potential as a broadcaster because she lacked ambition, not to mention a college degree. She let it slip that she granted the interview as a favor to one of her bosses. Apparently, Brent had persuaded this boss, a female, to give Soleil a chance as a sports anchor, or so he fantasized.

Soleil hadn’t been keen on taking an office job regardless. Now it came to light that Brent, acting as her manager, seemingly traded sex for a shot at getting Soleil an on-air gig as a newsreader. Sex was the only form of persuasion Brent was good at. He optimistically presumed to get Soleil a high-salary position as an on-air personality, from which he’d take a cut as her manager. But he didn’t rate a shot at getting his girlfriend any on-air position whatsoever. An entry-level job interview was all his mutant cock could muster.

The whole thing was a joke as far as Soleil was concerned. In that vein she facetiously offered to have ‘her driver’, Sol, go down on Roberta if that would cinch the job. Roberta went for it. Soleil couldn’t believe the arrogance of these media types. She was just about to tell Roberta it was a joke and say ‘Keep your damn job!’ etc, but she held her tongue.

Soleil went to Sol and broached the idea of giving head to Roberta and he gladly submitted.

“Don’t do it on account of me,” Soleil told him. “I don’t care about this job. I may not take it even if she keeps her word and gives it to me.” Sol still wanted to do it. Soleil felt a twinge of guilt inside. Or was it jealously?

Sol and Roberta entered a small room next to where the interview took place. Soleil stayed outside. As time wore on she became more and more concerned. Not jealous, she told herself, concerned. When the half-hour mark approached she could stand it no longer, she walked in on them.

Roberta and Sol were sitting in chairs across from each other having a chat. By the obvious looks of it they hadn’t had oral sex at all.

“Sol’s been telling me of your many talents,” Roberta said. “I had no idea you had a fan base to speak of. He tells me you are knowledgeable in this sector, have an engaging personality, and are brilliant at working a crowd and developing social media.” There were other attributes Soleil had omitted from revealing to Roberta out of resentment toward Brent and so forth.

“Of course,” Roberta said, “you are still going to have to put in some time learning our corporate culture by helping me behind the scenes. But I think you’ll be a good fit.”

She went on to say that she’d been dead set against hiring Soleil, merely to spite her boss. That hadn’t changed even after the generous offer of random oral sex with her driver. Sol’s pitch is what changed her mind.

On the way home Soleil experienced a new outlook toward Sol. More and more Brent’s actions seemed less in keeping with an Alpha personality and more in keeping with the vain selfishness of a narcissistic juvenile.

Lately he’d been pressuring her to take out a loan to finance breast augmentation surgery for herself. He claimed it would further her public appeal. Soleil suspected that it boiled down to the fact that Brent selfishly preferred a girlfriend with bigger boobs. When Sol heard about it he became furious. He gave Brent a piece of his mind for the first time ever. Soleil was perfect just as she was, he declared.

Sol had been her champion.

Again today he had been her champion.

Impulsively, she told him, ”You may want to pull off the road for a bit.” This puzzled Sol, so he kept on driving--and then she went down on him.

He managed to avoid an accident all right though the shock nearly killed him. “What’s this change in you?” he asked, after cumming sweetly into her mouth.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “Nevermind that you took advantage and stuck your tongue down my throat, unannounced, as it were. I’m more amazed at the way you chatted up Roberta. A complete stranger. And coolly presented me in my best light. And, by the way, how did you talk your way out of going down on her?”

“Maybe I didn’t,” Sol said.

“What?” Soleil asked. “Do you mean to say you didn’t go down on her? Or is it that you didn’t talk her out of eating pussy for her?

“I did eat pussy,” Sol admitted. “She orgasmed quickly and didn’t make a lot of noise about it like you do. And she wasn’t all smelly as a fish and sloppy wet either. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think I ate her out, that’s all.”

“So I’m all sloppy and smelly, am I!” Soleil cried.

Soleil couldn’t believe the things she was feeling. Her reason for going down on Sol hadn’t exactly been contingent on Sol not eating Roberta. Nevertheless, that's what it felt like. She felt jealous, and duped, and somehow corrupted, by the whole thing. At least with a horse’s ass like Brent she knew where she stood. But just when Sol made her world feel all bright and shiny again, the bottom fell out of it.

Soleil nurtured a cruel streak toward Sol after that. Her anger at Sol provided motivation to get out of the flat more often. This fit well with learning her new job and keeping late office hours.

Soleil snobbishly treated Sol as her valet. Whereas before they played at her being the Goddess of the flat, and all, with Sol as her valued lapdog, that was fun and games. Now it was stark obedience to her authority as he took care of getting her dressed for work every morning in dreary silence, except for Soleil’s sharp commands and Sol’s plaintive reply, “Yes, Goddess Soleil.”

He still went down on her whenever she said to, but never in tandem with performing oral sex on Brent anymore.

At the end of her workday she plopped on the sofa as soon as she entered the flat. Sol was expected to have her favorite refreshment ready by the time her butt touched the cushions. Then he knelt down to take her killer heels off her tired feet, then give them a rub, prefatory to going down on her. Or as Soleil like to call it, “giving me my daily head.”

Sol prepared her meals, washed her clothes, took care of her dry cleaning, etc. None of which he ever did for Brent. Soleil used Brent to get back at Sol, it wasn’t entirely clear what she was getting back at him for, but she’d do things like demand that Sol hold her hair gathered up out of the way while she went down on Brent on the couch. To keep from getting cum all over it. Nevermind that she’d previously somehow managed fine before that.

Sol bore it all with placid equanimity. His patience was galling Soleil.

Soleil began to ease off of her icy demeanor with Sol when he very officiously wrote a software program that made her work-life much easier. He presented it to her and she grudgingly let him demo it for her. He loaded it on her laptop and created an app for her smartphone so that she had valuable stats and all the relevant jargon at her fingertips that were a quantum leap ahead of the material the in-house crew used.

It was hard not to feel grateful toward Sol so she asked, “Why did you do this for me?”

“Because I care about you,” he answered “And I know you’d be perfect as an on-air personality. Anyone can spout sports stats and jargon. It’s just a matter of internalizing it through repetition. The main thing is that you love people. I saw how you interacted with your volleyball fans. They loved it that you were so sincere and down to earth because they could sense the joy it gave you to share your beauty with them. Not only the outer beauty of your body, but your inner beauty as well. It’s your inner beauty that brought me out of myself. You made me want to live.”

Soleil tenderly kissed Sol.

Brent and Soleil had each drifted apart. She knew he was cheating on her repeatedly, and Sol knew it, too. That's why when Soleil swept Sol in her arms and carried him to bed there were no guilty feelings.

They made love for hours. It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced.

In the afterglow Sol confessed that he didn’t eat pussy for Roberta that time. The reason he lied was because the relationship with Soleil had suddenly progressed faster than he could handle it. He panicked. He sensed that Soleil would back off a bit if he lied. So that’s what he did. He played for time to get used to the idea of him and Soleil being a couple.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever gone down on,” he told her, surprisingly. “And the only one I’ve ever made love with.”

Of course he meant he’d been a virgin before going to bed with Soleil. But that’s not what Soleil meant when she told him, “And you’re the only man I’ve ever made love with.”

The End

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