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It turned out Stacy had never seen The Office, so you queue up season one and curl up next to your friend on the couch. Feeling bold, you lean gently into the curvy brunette, sipping your wine and munching on a handful of chips. Dinner was a cheap, crappy microwave chicken meal – flavourless and textureless – so you relish the opportunity to pig out a bit. You’re still a little on edge after your close call in the bathroom, but you feel your muscles relax as the buzz of alcohol, junk food, good company and good TV sets in. Although the panties you borrowed from Stacy’s sister-in-law are a little uncomfortable, they serve their purpose in keeping your secret tucked away. Just in case, you grab a pillow and surreptitiously slide it onto your lap, pretending you need somewhere to rest your glass.
The next few hours pass in a blur. While risky, your masturbation session in the shower earlier seems to have paid off, allowing you to relax and loll all over Stacy without any embarrassing reveals. She seems to be enjoying the hijinks at Dunder Mifflin, laughing loud and often at all the right moments. You make it through about six episodes – having the time of your life – before Stacy calls it a night. She yawns and stretches, almost punching you in the face with one large boob as she does so. Her bountiful breasts strain against the flimsy black top as she arches her back, and you try to hide your obvious gawking.
“Nngh . . . almost three, huh,” she says, her voice a sleepy, tipsy mumble. Both chardonnay bottles are empty, as well as a pinot she produced from somewhere. “Wanna go to bed?”
You nod your hesitant assent, and she continues. “It’s Saturday, so we don’t have to set an alarm. We can play more tomorrow – maybe go shopping so you don’t have to wear Sandi’s clothes all weekend. C’mon, let’s hit the sack.” Drowsily, she flips off the TV and pulls you to your feet, and together you stagger to the bedroom.
Stacy collapses on the big double bed, causing it to wobble slightly. She burrows under the covers and pops her head out, beckoning you in. “Come on, Mindeeee,” she slurs. “You can have Darren’s half.”
Suddenly wide awake, you realise what she meant by ‘bunking’ together. “Oh, jeez, Stacy, I don’t know if I can… maybe I should just – the couch?”
“Rubbish!” Stacy says with a giggle, patting the bed next to her. “You have to stay here, so I can talk to you until we fall asleep. Like a real sleepover!”
Sighing, you give in. It’s late, and your brain is starting to shut down. You think you can probably sleep peacefully for at least one night, so you slip into bed next to Stacy – subtly rearranging your package as you do so. Don’t want any surprises in the night.
Stacy tries to chat with you for a few minutes, but she’s obviously tired, so you gently suggest that the two of you get to sleep. She agrees, and you thankfully sink back into the comfy bed – it smells of Stacy – and close your eyes.
Your eyes flutter open. It’s still pitch black, the ceiling invisible somewhere above you. Somewhere, a clock ticks. You try to answer, but your throat is parched so all that comes out at first is a sort of soft whistle.
“You awake? No? Good…” Stacy’s whisper is throaty and soft, and some quality in her voice catches your attention and stops you from trying to speak again.
You hear rustling sheets from next to you. Carefully, in infinitesimally small movements, you tilt your head to the left until you can see Stacy – well, not really. There’s the faintest hint of light bleeding into the room under the door, so all you can see is the faintest, most indistinct silhouette. She’s lying on her back, like you – though you can only tell because her tits are the most recognisable part of her profile. It’s a hot night; she’s sloughed the sheets off.
Stacy breathes deeply, as if about to plunge into a swimming pool. A faint tinge of alcohol reaches your nose. You realise that’s not all. You can smell her. Her body, her musk, her … arousal?
“Mmph…” A quiet moan, barely more than a breath, expelled through tightly-clamped lips. The sound causes your eyes to grow wide in the darkness. Is she…?
She is. Convinced that you are asleep, Stacy is now rummaging around in the sheets and fingering herself. You strain your ears, and the distinctive, rhythmic rubbing can’t be mistaken. She sounds wet, too. Your cock, until now so very well-behaved, begins to twitch as you listen to your best friend frig herself.
Stacy moans again, a little louder this time. You’re sure she’d never do this normally, but the alcohol has loosened her up a lot more than you realised. She’s getting off while lying in the bed – the bed she shares with her fiance – next to you. The question, then, is what – or who – is she masturbating to? Do you really want to find out?
You’re in an awkward position now. As her ministrations grow more intense, the bed starts to wobble just a bahis firmaları little. Her voice breaks free more often, cute little moans that she swallows as soon as making them. Your cock is threatening to tear through your pajamas; you’ve kept it soft by sheer force of will thus far, but it’s becoming dangerous.
You have a choice here. You figure that if you stay silent, Stacy will finish and go back to sleep, none the wiser. Maybe you can go to the bathroom and jerk off again. Alternatively, you could interrupt her, potentially subjecting you both to deathly embarrassment and risking revealing your secret. Your heart pounds as you consider your options, trying desperately to stay still and not reveal that you are awake after all.
What do you do?
[[Is she? Yup, she’s totally DJ’ing right now 0__0 OK you can handle this Mindy. Just pretend your super hot friend isn’t touching her sexy bits and that you can’t see her perfectly huge tits. Juuuuust pretend that you aren’t 5 seconds away from ripping right through these panties. Shit none of this is helping D:
Mindy chooses to resist her baser instincts and wait it out in the darkness!]]
You lie perfectly still, keeping your breathing steady and level. It serves two purposes: convincing Stacy that you’re still asleep, and forcing your cock to remain under control. The beast is dormant, for now, but as Stacy grows more and more restless next to you, it becomes difficult to stay zen.
“Mmph…ooh… oh yeah,” she groans, bucking her hips up slightly and causing the bed to shake. “Fuck me, baby!” She’s completely lost in her own little world now; wet squelching sounds emanate from her pussy. She sounds absolutely drenched. Is it just the alcohol? Is she missing her usual bedmate? Or is it you?
Your mouth goes dry as you consider it, and your head starts to fuzz as blood rushes to your cock. It’s painful to keep it constricted now, so you slowly – ever so slowly – reach down to readjust it beneath the covers. Stacy is so enthralled by her own fantasies now that she couldn’t possibly notice. Carefully, you pull your semi-hard cock out, letting it jut out of the too-small panties. You don’t want to take the risk of being noticed, though, so you tuck it under the pajama t-shirt you’re wearing, laying its thick, hot length against your stomach. The contact makes you hiss involuntarily, but you stifle it. Stacy doesn’t seem to have noticed. This might have been a bad idea, you realise as the head of your cock settles into the valley between your small breasts, damn near scorching your delicate skin with its bulk and heat.
“Oh yes, yes yes yesssssss…!” Stacy is still hissing and moaning, panting as she pushes her hips skyward to accommodate her invisible lover. There’s no way she could possibly think anybody could sleep through this. “Fuck me, baby. I’m your dirty girl, I’m your slut, call me names, uggggh!”
You raise an eyebrow. She’s really getting into it, and you feel her radiating lust affect you as well. Your cock hardens and springs forward, trying to break out of the cotton prison you’ve confined it in. Your mouth stretches into an O but you manage to stop yourself from making a sound. God, this is doing crazy things to you. You can see Stacy’s faint outline heaving against the faint light from the hallway, hear her fingers digging into her wet pussy, smell her arousal in the air, feel every shake and bounce as she abandons herself to her secret pleasure. You could almost taste her, but you don’t dare move. You tremble, every muscle in your body wound tight like a spring, burning with desire and heat. Your cock tries to reach for the ceiling, but your t-shirt is keeping it contained for now. If Stacy turned on the light and looked over at you now, she would see its massive, bulging form straining against the grey cotton, running all the way up your front.
But she doesn’t. She won’t. She’s too absorbed in her own pleasure, ramping up to a serious orgasm. Her moans increase in pitch and frequency – she’s not exactly screaming, but she seems to have forgotten about your presence entirely. “Oooh!” she groans, shoulders clenching as the speed of her fingering ramps up. “I’m gonna cum, baby, give it to me. Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeee!”
As Stacy’s body locks up, she clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her raw, animalistic groaning, but you can still hear it. Your cock twitches against your chest and a few drips of sizzling hot precum ooze from the tip, splashing unimpeded onto your bare skin. Stacy jerks and twitches, her whole body tense and shivering as she rides her high, before she crashes back down to earth, breathing deeply and unsteadily.
Fuck me, what a show. Even in the dark, you saw more than you ever thought you would. Now as she lies panting, her ample chest rising and falling roughly, all you can think of is making her scream your name. The fantasy is overpowering, and your cock is at full attention. You lie as still as you possibly kaçak iddaa can, trying not to make a sound. Now that Stacy isn’t distracted, there’s a higher chance she’ll catch you.
But as it turns out, you needn’t have worried. You lie there for a few minutes in the dark, your own fluids dripping gently onto your chest, until Stacy’s breathing levels out. She rolls over and stretches, then slowly stops moving. Before long, she’s snoring peacefully. Not big honking snores, but cute little ones, expelled from the same lips that were stifling obscenities just minute s ago. When you’re sure she’s asleep, you carefully extract yourself from the bedcovers, and – hugging your erection tight against your belly – slip out to the bathroom, where you clean up the mess you’ve made of yourself. It’s not easy to make your erection subside after what you just saw, but you manage to manhandle it back into your panties. The thought of jerking off again crosses your mind, but the clock on the wall tells you it’s nearly five in the morning.
You stumble back to the bedroom and collapse into the bed next to Stacy. Having been out of the room for twenty minutes or so, you’re struck by how strong the smell of sex is. You’re too tired to be distracted now, though, so you finally get to sleep for real.
When you wake up, Stacy isn’t there. You hear her clanging around in the kitchen, and the smell of a cooked breakfast hangs in the air. You extract yourself from crumpled bedsheets and pad down the hallway to join her.
She doesn’t quite meet your eye. “Morning, Mindy!” she says. Her cheeks are slightly flushed. “Did you, uh, sleep well?”
“Like a log,” you say. That seems to reassure her.
After breakfast, she finds you some more of Sandi’s clothes. Your specially accommodating futa panties are now clean and dry, so you gratefully slide them on while she’s not watching, tucking yourself away so that you’re at least comfortable.
Stacy has laid out a number of outfits to choose from for your shopping date today. Sandi seems to have abandoned quite the wardrobe at her brother’s place, and she is damn near your size. What look do you go with?
Punk – ripped jeans and a wifebeater emblazoned with some unidentifiable band logo.
Slut – miniskirt and cropped halter top. So risky, so not like you, but kind of alluring.
Casual – a more modest skirt or pants, tank top and light cardi.
Fancy – Stacy doesn’t know what it is, but it’s awfully frilly. Almost looks like cosplay.
[[Mindy goes for the punk look! It’s a bit edgy and a bit sexy ;D plus it reminds her of when she was in a band in highschool]]
You dress quickly in the tight, distressed jeans – which press comfortably against your concealed ‘womanhood’ – and slip on the singlet. It’s black and has a deep scoop neck, so you wear a bra underneath just in case. With boobs like yours you often don’t bother, but you don’t really want to be flashing anybody today. It’s a warm spring morning – somehow it’s nearly eleven already – so you don’t feel the need for any extra layers. The ensemble takes you back to high school; having a proper office job means you don’t dress like this very often, especially considering you spend a lot of time lazing around home in your underwear.
Stacy warms up as she drives the two of you into town, getting over her earlier awkwardness. She seems to be convinced that you didn’t notice anything last night, and you’re certainly not willing to call her out on it. By the time she pulls into the department store carpark, the dynamic between you has returned to the fun, girls-only-party mood from the previous night. Almost forgetting what happened in the dead of night, you focus on the here and now. That chemical spill at your apartment building could be the best thing that ever happened to you.
Even as you focus on returning to normalcy, though, you can’t help but notice how damn good Stacy looks today. She’s wearing black jeans that hug her curves and highlight the shape of her ass, which sways sultrily as she walks ahead of you. You don’t think she’s even aware of it; the girl just naturally oozes sensuality. A modestly-cut green top completes the outfit, light and flowing with diaphanous panels that flutter in the breeze as she leads you through the underground carpark. Green is her colour, you decide absently. Really brings out her eyes.
Realising you’re falling back on your old habits of crushing on your friend, you blush and shake the thoughts from your head. You’re here to shop today.
Of course, you don’t have any money. You explained this to Stacy, but she waved you off with a laugh. “Babe, don’t sweat it,” she said. “We’ll get you a full outfit or two today, my treat. If you want to pay me back, we can go do something fun together this afternoon and call it square. It’s not often I get to have a day out with a girlfriend.”
With your schedule thus locked in for the day, you let her lead you into the kaçak bahis mall.
You blink as the elevator doors slide open. You’ve been here once or twice before, but the size and brightness of it all takes you by surprise every time. Your local shopping centre is a lot smaller and more conservative; it also doesn’t have arching glass ceilings, multiple floors of shops or people hawking goods at you from every corner. A lady grabs your arm as you pass, trying to sell you a face mask, but Stacy politely disengages you and ushers you towards the Macy’s that takes up a large chunk of the mall’s floor space.
What sort of items do you have Stacy buy for you? Remember, you’re picking clothes for your ‘date’ this afternoon (we’ll wear the punk outfit for a while longer, though). Let’s say a pair of shoes and up to a four-item ensemble.
[[Shopping spree! Leeeeets see here. Floral print flats, dark wash jean shorts, blue romper with white polka dots, yellow sun dress, and a cozy grey sweater :3]]
Stacy waits outside the dressing room in Womenswear as you try on various outfits and single items of clothing, parading each one in front of her as you do. First a new romper, china blue with white polka dots. It’s short and loose, letting you show off your legs without being slutty. It’s a perfect fit, and Stacy approves too, so you tuck it under one arm and keep looking.
You were a little tempted by the daring shortness of the miniskirt Stacy left out for you this morning – was that some kind of hint? – so you glance at some on the rack, but ultimately chicken out. Instead, you grab a couple of sundresses in different colours and hurry to try them on. The fit is good; the hem lies scandalously high on your thigh but the garment still manages to look innocent. You do a quick twirl in the dressing room, and in the mirror you catch an eyeful of the bulge in your panties. Okay, you figure. No big deal. Just no twirling.
“Should I get the yellow one, or this?” you ask Stacy, stepping out to show her the second item.
She tuts for a moment, tapping her chin. “Yellow,” she says at length. “The blue clashes with your hair.”
A couple of items later – you needed a new sweater for the coming winter season, and your favourite pair of jean shorts were getting holey – the two of you leave Macy’s laden with bags. Stacy’s also made some purchases which she promises, with a giggle, that she’ll show you later. You stop by a shoe store and pick up some cute floral-print flats to go with the new threads. Stacy suggests dropping into Victoria’s Secret, but you deflect. Last thing you need is for her to see you making a beeline for the ‘Endowed Ladies’ section in the back.
“You sure? Those panties you had on last night looked pretty stretched out, babe. They’d probably fit my fat ass by now.”
“Your ass isn’t fat!” you protest, unable to stop yourself from glancing at it. Well, not in the bad way. “And yes, I’m sure. I have plenty of underwear.”
“All right…” Stacy says slowly, frowning a little. “You don’t wanna change or anything?”
“I’m good for now,” you say, tapping the heel of your borrowed Vans on the lino to make sure they’re on properly. Standing, you take the shoes from Stacy and slot them in your bag, smiling gratefully. “I’ll change before we go this afternoon.”
“Alright, babe,” Stacy says, checking her watch. “We should grab something quick to eat first, then.”
At the food court, you split up briefly to find your own preferred fast food – KFC for Stacy, Subway for you – and reunite at a corner table. As you eat, Stacy nudges you and whispers across the table, “Hey… enjoying that footlong you have there?”
Her voice is decidedly sultry, and you just about choke on your sandwich in shock. This causes her to burst out laughing, and you sigh internally. Oh, thank God. She’s just teasing. “As a matter of fact, I am,” you say indignantly, as soon as you’ve stopped coughing.
“Really?” Stacy muses, raising a flirtatious eyebrow. “A footlong is never really enough for me, you know… It just can’t quite fill me up. Know what I mean?”
Jesus Christ. Does she even know what she’s doing to you? “Need an extra few inches, do you?”
“Oh darling, you know it!” she exclaims, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Didn’t fancy it today, though.”
“Just a bit of cock instead, hm?” you suggest, nudging her box of chicken.
Stacy snorts, prodding it with a finger. “I think this is breast, actually. Maybe thigh. You know, it’s hard to tell sometimes. I really should stop eating this crap.”
From there, the conversation turns to safer topics. After eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Wearing Sandi’s clothes was fun, but the fit wasn’t quite perfect and they still weren’t your clothes, so you relish the opportunity to dress yourself properly. In the bright yellow sundress and floral flats, you feel a lot more like yourself. Smiling at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you admire the way that the fabric bunches loosely around your waist before falling freely to mid-thigh. You swish back and forth a little, making sure there aren’t going to be any wardrobe malfunctions.
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