There was a familiar comfort in the deep couch. There was a knowledge that if one sat on that couch, they would sink back and possibly never get up.
But that’s what we wanted at that moment.
It was cold and raining outside. We could hear a bitter and cruel wind rattling the windows and heavy droplets that battered the building. Yet the whistle of a Manhattan radiator made the apartment almost too hot.
Everyone at our little gathering had been slowly disrobing all night. I was in only a dress shirt and boxers. Rose was in bra, garters, and stockings, sitting to my right, on said couch.
The new girl was sitting by the window. She was down to her skivvies as well, though she seemed a bit self-conscious. I watched her, and Rose watched me with that look that was somewhere between annoyance and amusement.
“She’s pretty,” I whispered to Rose, kissing her neck.
Rose laughed and slapped me away.
“So do something about it,” she said with a shrug and a grin.
I turned to the window to call her, but I realized I had forgotten her name.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Samantha,” she said. Then, her eyes widened, “oh, hah, no, it’s Sandra. Right? She said, Sandy? Like in Grease?”
I nodded. It was Sandy. Once I heard it, I remembered.
She was dark-haired, classically built, wide hips and a big bottom, not much on top. Stunning face, made up perfectly, dark hair with straight bangs, red lips, and kohl-lined eyes with razor-sharp wings at the corners.
“Sandra, why don’t you come over here and entertain us?” I said to the girl by the window.
I knew she had a predilection for embarrassing exhibitionism, and I wanted to see something pretty. Rose’s eyebrows raised, but she seemed willing to give it a try.
In front of us was a long sturdy coffee table. When Sandy got over to us, I told her to sit on it, right in front of us. She was shy, but she nodded, she sat demurely, and I laughed.
“No, not like that, with your legs spread,” I said, pushing her legs apart with my foot.
She opened them wider, leaning forward slightly, giving us a pretty view of her somewhat transparent mesh black bra and panty set.
Rose sat back with a light sigh. She wasn’t convinced this game would be worth her attention, but she didn’t want to make the girl feel bad by leaving, or so I guessed. Rose could be just as vicious as I could, but like me, she was also caring and sympathetic.
“Sandy do you want to entertain us?” I asked sweetly.
She looked down, blushing, but nodded, “yes.”
“Will you take off your bra for us then?” I asked, my hand on her knee.
She looked around the room and then seemed to chide herself for it. She reached back and unlatched her bra.
“Wait,” Rose interrupted.
Rose put her hand on Sandy’s other knee and smiled at her.
“Now put your hand in front and hold your bra to your chest. Then slip out of the arm loops. Then just hold. Look how pretty that is,” she said, letting Sandy follow her instruction.
I watched them both, happy to see Rose getting into it. It was always lovely to watch her make women into her dolls.
“Now lock eyes with us, and slowly let your bra fall forward,” Rose instructed.
Sandy’s blush ran from her cheeks to her chest, like an arrow pointing down, which was exactly where my eyes went.
“That’s lovely,” I sighed.
What was lovely was how hard she was trying. That was far more delightful than the rote following of instructions. She was embarrassed in the most beautiful way, but she was pushing through it for us.
“That is very pretty,” I agreed.
“It would be even prettier if she stopped covering up,” I said, pushing her arms away from her chest.
She bit her lip and tried.
“How about you put your arms behind your back. Then you won’t have to worry about them,” Rose suggested.
“Back straight,” I added, my hand still on her knee, and my other hand pushing the top of her chest back a little, straightening her out.
“See, that is lovely, breasts out, eyes forward, legs open. What a good girl you are being,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face and then slipping two fingers down her jawline to her lips.
“Thank you,” she said in less than a whisper.
“Thank you for being so good for us. Can I touch your breasts?” I asked sweetly, leaning closer.
She nodded vigorously.
“And can I touch between your legs, Sandy?” I asked.
She nodded again, her eyes wider.
“Is there anywhere I shouldn’t touch?”
She shook her head, no.
You could see the nervousness, the shyness, fighting with the lust, the desire to follow orders. My hand moved to one of her breasts, and I just barely touched it. I let the very tips of my fingers brush against the softness of her, the tender bottom of her breasts. Her lips quivered.
“Is she going to entertain us, or are you going to feel her up?” Rose said with a smirk.
I wanted more, but Rose was right. Rose knew how to help me tease myself and a girl. I looked back and saw that she was enjoying the show as well—a little check-in between our eyes and smiles.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said, sitting back down on the deep couch.
“Sandy, stand up for us,” I casually ordered.
She did, her small breasts bouncing slightly.
“Look, Rose, she did her panties and garters the way you like, panties over the garter straps so she can easily slip her panties off,” I said, my fingers on the black mesh material.
Sandra squirmed, but kept her hands behind her back.
“I think you will be much more entertaining without these, don’t you?” I asked.
“I, um, no,” she was confused.
“So I should take them off?”
“If you like, I mean- yes, please do,” she corrected herself, starting to get our little game.
I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down slowly. She let out a nervous little giggle. I saw a bare patch of slightly lighter skin, a very light spray of rather charming stubble, and a neat little slit that made my blood pump faster.
Oh, to be in control and yet be completely at someone’s mercy. I want to see her so badly and see all of her hidden little spots and secrets, but I kept up my mask of only somewhat entertained detachment.
“Now, no panties and no bra, how will you entertain us?” I said, sitting back.
Her knees pressed together, and her legs squirmed as she blushed and stammered.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Oh Rose, she doesn’t know,” I said with a long sigh.
“No? She seems so bright and creative. I think she has lots of entertaining ideas. She’s just a little shy. Aren’t you?” Rose said, rubbing the girl’s hip sympathetically.
Sandra nodded, unsure.
“Well, it can be difficult to think of something on the spot, I suppose,” I said, leaning over and getting my drink from the other side of the table.
I sipped the whiskey, and when Rose’s eyebrow curled, I gave her a sip as well.
“Hmm, I think masturbation. Rose remember I told you the lovely letter Sandy wrote me? How she has dreams about having to masturbate in front of a room full of people?”
Sandy’s body was wracked with a little son of shame.
“I think I remember something like that. Faceless men or something like that. Well, we aren’t faceless, but I think we can recreate that. What do you say, Sandy?” Rose laughed, getting into the game even more.
I stood, groaning as the couch’s depth made the act difficult. I took her hand, sat her down, spread her legs, and then put each of her stocking clad feet on the table, to that her thick thighs were open wide, then I sat down again.
“There, isn’t that nice. Sandy told me she doesn’t even use toys, really. Her fingers are all she needs.” I said to no one in particular.
Rose eyed me with a mix of suspicion and amusement. I sat back down next to her, and we kissed, then we kissed again. I heard the girl whimper but kept my eyes on Rose’s. She liked that, and I liked pleasing her.
Mercifully though, Rose broke our gaze, and so I was free to do the same.
The girl was standing in front of us, one arm still behind her back, the other in front of her, hand between her thighs, fingers moving through the very short triangle of neatly trimmed black hair above pussy. The lips were bare, and her fingers trembled as she moved down and between them.
My hand found Rose’s knee and her and clamped over mine. Our bodies pushed together in the softness of the couch as we watched the girl touch herself.
I looked around and saw a few curious eyes from around the room had caught the little show. I smiled, looking up at Sandy’s eyes and then around at the others, making sure she knew she had an audience.
“She’s really putting on a show,” I said to Rose.
“Look how red her face is,” Rose agreed.
There was a blush that started at her cheeks and went down her neck to between her breasts. Her nipples were hard and thick. She was biting her bottom lip. There were desperate little moans coming from her closed mouth.
“Hm, now should we let her come, that is the question,” I said and watched Sandy’s eyes open wide in fear and frustration.
Rose let out a long, thoughtful “Hm.”
“I think so,” Rose said sweetly.
“I think everyone would like to see that,” she added.
There was a little round of applause from the few others in the room.
I leaned forward.
“Do you think you can do that for us, Sandy? Do you think you can come for all these people watching you fuck yourself?” I asked, my hand on her quivering thigh.
She looked me in the eye with an intensity that shocked me a bit. She was still biting her bottom lip, but she nodded vigorously.
I kept my hand on Sandy’s leg and felt Rose pull at my other hand, holding it as we both watched.
“Fuck!” she said, the word popping out of her mouth like the cork of a Champagne bottle.
Her fingers moved fast as she shook and thrust her hips out. We could see her muscles tighten, her eyes close, her chest swell. I could almost feel her orgasm inside of my own body, watching was so visceral.
Then she stopped and almost went limp. I pulled her into my lap and Rose’s lap, and we laughed and kissed her, and she panted and buried her embarrassed face in our legs.
And the room clapped some more, and there were water and drinks for everyone, and Rose pulled me close, and we kissed deeply over the squirming girl, and I was happy to realize the night wasn’t even half over.