Ménage à Quatre - Chapter 4

The BBQ was a success. Practically the whole neighborhood was playing in the pool, or on the lake.

Rick was there. He was wearing a tight little cock-hugging bathing suit that showed me exactly what I was missing. Oh, boy. It was all I could do not to rip off the trunks and gobble his cock up like a fairy-tale witch.

It was torture hanging on Vic’s arm while he schmoozed. I couldn’t take my eyes off Rick. He was playing around with a girl from down the street. She was seventeen and had a seventeen-year-old’s tight little body. I could tell by the outline in Rick’s shorts that he liked her. Bulge.

I was jealous of this little girl.

I watched Rick and the little slut splash around the pool. I watched the shameless whore push her perky teen titties against his arm. I watched her lean in close and whisper something that made him smile. Probably their plans to fuck later. And all I could do was stand behind Vic and rub my pussy hoping nobody would notice.

Finally, it was more than I could take. I told Vic I had a headache and had to go inside and lie down for a while.

“Sure, hon,” he said. He didn’t care. He was the life of the party. He had what he wanted.

What I wanted was a big dick.

I went inside. The house was quiet and cool. The party was all outside. I walked through the house. The walls were almost all glass, and I could see the party outside, but they couldn’t see me. I went to the master bedroom. As I crossed the room, I pulled off the bandeau cover-up dress and threw it on the bed. In my tiny bikini, I went to the wall of windows. Standing there, I pushed the thong over and freed my mound.

I needed some relief.

I gingerly fingered my already wet, deprived pussy, and looked for Rick’s hard body. I saw Vic. He was less than ten feet away at his huge smoker. He had his oversized boy toy, why couldn’t I have mine?

I fingered my lady and looked for Rick. He was nowhere to be seen.

No doubt he was off fucking that little tramp somewhere, damn her. She was probably a virgin, and he was popping her sweet cherry. How could I compete?

I leaned against the glass and rubbed my wet slit when I heard my name.

“Anna.”