SUGAR SNAP PEAS! (1.9) [NSFW]

J.J. staggered through the door into the communal living space that was the ground floor of the co-op’s main house.

Even at this hour, there were still plenty of people about. Necks craned and heads turned at the sound of her entrance. The co-op was heavy on university students and other young people still in the heavily nocturnal phase of their lives. Couples and triples lounged in and draped over the mismatched, often-overstuffed furniture while in a corner someone sat with a laptop on their lap in a slowly-twirling hammock chair.

J.J. was used to feeling like an outsider in a place where it seemed like everybody else knew everybody else, but on this night she barely noticed the people or the attention.

Instead, she felt giddy, punch-drunk. Maybe it was a concussion after all… but her eyes focused just fine.

Especially when she looked down at her phone, still on and open to the messenger.

There were Princess’s words, her actual words, staring up at her through the harsh glow of the screen. When she looked at them, she could see those soft, green eyes looking down at her.

How long had it been since she’d felt this way about anyone? Had she ever? J.J. could remember in almost painful detail her first, formative crushes… but she couldn’t remember anything like this, anyone like this.

She should be talking to a lawyer, she knew… but who could focus on that? The world was beautiful, the night was beautiful, and the world and the night had such beautiful people in it.

It felt like a moment to heave a sigh, and J.J. did her best. It felt forceful, but sounded wrong, but she wasn’t sure a second try would come out any better, and it might get into weird territory. Was there a difference between sighing repeatedly and panting?

“J.J.,” a voice said… soft, liquid, languid. “Hey.”

“Hey!” J.J. said, slipping her phone inside her jacket pocket as she turned around to see Krista.

Lean and lanky of limb but with a soft, round belly and cherubic cheeks, Krista was one of J.J.’s many housemates and the college friend who had helped her get into the co-op. She had a tanned arm draped over the shoulder of a pale, pixie-ish goth girl J.J. hadn’t properly met.

“So…” Krista said. “We were about to go up to my room when you came in.”

“Oh, hey,” J.J. said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt?”

“You didn’t,” Krista said. She looked at J.J. with an expression J.J. could only categorize as expectant. As J.J. stood there trying to figure out what was expected of her, Krista’s face fell a little, and then she added, “It’s just, we’re going to go have sex.”

J.J.’s face broke out in a broad smile of dawning comprehension, which was mirrored by the slightly hungrier but just as wide grin on Krista’s face.

“Oh, congratulations!” J.J. said. She looked at the goth girl, whose small, dark nipples were visible through the mesh shirt she wore under a black vest. J.J. tried to make a habit of not thinking too hard about other people’s bodies—it felt especially weird when she didn’t really know them—but she found herself imagining what Princess’s might look like. She’d already been feeling serious stirrings, and Krista talking about sex wasn’t a problem, exactly, but it sure wasn’t helping her in the pants department. “Krista’s pretty good at that kind of thing, so you’re in for a treat?”

“It’s funny…” Krista said. “We were just talking about a threesome.”

“Yeah?” J.J. said.

“Yeah, I think it could be fun,” Krista said. “What do you think?”

“You’re probably right,” J.J. said. “Good luck with that? I’ve kind of got to run…”

She didn’t quite run, not literally. Not indoors. She did make her way past Krista—plenty of time to puzzle out what that weird look on her face had been later—to the stairs and up them with as much haste as seemed seemly and safe, tripping a surprisingly small amount on her way up them.

“Oh, heck, oh, heck, oh, heck…” she said, fumbling open the old-fashioned door knob and sliding through the door into her bedroom. She was far past the point of panting being a voluntary choice or not, and she didn’t know how that had even happened.

How could she be this turned on?

It wasn’t just that Princess was beautiful—because she was—but J.J. wasn’t at all used to this level of rising desperation. She peeled her jeans off as quick she could without tearing them off… and honestly, in that moment, she felt like she could and she wasn’t entirely sure that she hadn’t… and then was faced with the reality that wearing a full-body stocking under her clothes meant that she had no quick access to relief.

She couldn’t remember ever getting this wound up during actual sex, and she still hadn’t gotten all her clothes off…

Finally, that deed was done. She opened the top drawer of the chintzy distressed dresser that had come with the room and pulled out the biggest of her big guns, a microphone-shaped Hitachi magic wand she usually reserved for use on others.

A big believer in the philosophy of giving over receiving, J.J. had always taken more pleasure in the lasting pride of a job well done than fleeting physical joy, but here she was, consumed with a rising lust that shrank the whole world around her.

She somewhat carelessly applied a condom to the soft, porous head of the toy, slammed its plug into the outlet nearest her slightly rickety daybed, then threw herself backwards onto that same bed, and went to town. With another woman spread in front of her, J.J. would have taken a more cautious approach, literally feeling out her desires while teasing out the level of arousal necessary to bring the required fireworks.

She herself was already there, already far past that point, and so plunged the vibrating head right up against her mound, clasping her legs around it, transmitting its mechanical motion directly into her clit, through the metal ring anchored in her hood, through all the hot flesh surrounding it.

Usually she needed a certain amount of preamble before she could take that kind of heavy jackhammer pressure, but tonight she’d been already ready already before she made it up the stairs.

She rode the soft, latex-ensconced head of the wand like she was clinging upside-down to a bucking bronco, like she was sliding sideways down a firepole, like she was riding a very peculiar pogo stick in a fashion contrary to how pogo sticks were normally ridden.

Harder and harder she pressed it against herself and herself against it, gripping with both hands and squeezing with her thighs. She was so turned on, she had more juice running through her than the power cord did, and it felt good, oh, it felt so, so good, but it wasn’t enough, she wasn’t quite there, close and getting closer, closer all the time, but not quite, not quite, not quite…

CRACK!

She wasn’t sure which happened first, but when she processed what had happened, the head of the wand had snapped off and the casing of the handle was cracked into pieces.

“Sugar snap peas!” J.J. swore out loud, emphasis on loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

In the quiet not-quite-silence of the house at late night, the embarrassment at having just shouted such a filthy swear quickly sapped her libido, leaving her unsatisfied but in a less desperate state.