Warm Me Up

Lauren Emily
14 mins read
Published about 1 year ago

hear the anticipatory buzz behind me and take a deep breath that quickly becomes a squeak of pleasure as Molly twists my right nipple in her long, capable fingers.

“Ready?” Her voice is husky. I widen my legs.

This is not what I expected.


Thirty minutes earlier…

“I could kiss you right now,” I cry, throwing open the door as soon as I hear my best friend’s dainty footsteps.

“Why are you so freaked out?” Molly brushes past me and I get a whiff of her favorite strawberry-vanilla tea she’s been drinking since college. Blunt yet inherently comforting, that’s my bestie. “It’s just a date.”

I groan. “Not just a date, Mols. My first date in like three years, which is going to determine the rest of my romantic life from here on out.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She’s right – even I can hear the hyperbole. But I can also hear the love in Molly’s voice as she fills the electric kettle I bought specifically for her visits. Just like always, I sneak a peek at her perfect heart-shaped ass, earned over years and years of squats “that suck, Sarah, but they work.” Today I’m extra tingly when I take in the sight – like a juicy spandex-covered peach.

“Have you been working out?”

“S-sorry?” I ask, trying to will the tremor out of my voice. Please don’t notice how hard I was checking you out. 

Well, at least Molly’s turned around. Giving me an eyeful of her glorious rack, and now my face is the color of a cherry orchard. If there’s a way I could put the words back into my mouth I would, because this is about to get real awkward.

“Your shoulders,” she says. Her eyes trace over the lines of my upper body as she extends a steaming mug toward me – the one we got at the Hedwig and the Angry Inch tour. 

“Oh. Uh, that aerial yoga class you told me about. Guess it’s working.” What is with me today? Molly’s seen me bloated and bitchy and shoving chips into my mouth during my period, mainlining coffee during finals and moaning on the bathroom floor after an unfortunate experience with tequila. She knows me better than anyone and I’m suddenly tongue-tied.

Date nerves. That’s all.

“Wow, you’re really torqued up, huh?” She flops on my couch, drawing her legs under her just like she used to do every night in our dorm room freshman year of undergrad, and I join her.

“I must be,” I agree, taking a sip of strawberry-vanilla goodness. “Since Sean left… ugh.” I shudder at the memory of him taking that one last box, off to cohabitate with the poor girl he’d cheated on me with for the better part of the last three months. Not even looking over his shoulder when he said: “see ya.” I know I’m better off without him, but at times I still feel empty.

And increasingly horny, hence tonight’s date, a nice-enough-looking guy from Tinder who had no idea of the emotional minefield he was about to enter.

Suddenly I feel soft fingers on my bare knee.

“Look at me, Sare.”

Against my better judgment, I obey Molly’s quiet command. Her warm brown eyes, the exact color of a Hershey’s Kiss, regard me as they always have: not the seen-it-all LA city girl to my Midwest farm town survivor, but equals. Friends.

With benefits, just the once, but I can’t think about that right now.

“Sean is gone,” Molly says, then joins me in smirking at the unintentional poetry. “Hey, maybe you should embroider that and frame it over the mantle.”

I laugh. “There’s an idea.” Now her fingertips are stroking my knee, featherlight. I resist the urge to push her hand higher, not that much really, just enough to reach…

She raises an eyebrow and I know what’s coming.

Pun intended.

“Have you tried–”

I groan, gently push her hand away and take a gulp of rapidly-cooling tea. “No, Molly. Jesus.”

She shrugs, a graceful up-and-down of the lightly muscled shoulders she’s perfected from teaching barre classes all day. “Always works for me. But you do you.” She grins. “Literally.”

I can’t help it – I burst out laughing, and she joins me, plunking her Wicked mug on the arm of my couch, where it wobbles precariously as we dissolve into giggles.

“In-freaking-corrigible,” I say, wiping my eyes. 

“Seriously, though.” She’s looking at me again, but it’s different, and I thought I knew all her looks. This one’s… assessing me. Studying.

Checking me out?

No way.

I roll my eyes. “I know you swear by a self-induced pre-date orgasm, but we’re not all born with a sky-high sex drive.”

“Hey, my sex drive was made, not born,” she cracks, rescuing her wobbling mug and shotgunning the rest of the contents. “But really, Sare, it works. Eases the tension, which you’ve clearly got. Puts a glow on your face. And you know.” She crosses her legs, grins at me. “You come. Never a bad thing.”

“Don’t you get tired, though?” In terms of sex, I’m more of a stereotypical guy than most guys I’ve dated. I always want to pass out after a particularly intense bout in the sack. And it’s not like I’m a stranger to orgasms – they’re how I get to sleep at least two nights a week. My current partner comes with a plug-in charger.

But before I go out? “I don’t want to drag through this date with…” What the fuck’s his name again?

She shrugs. “Get in, get out. That’s my philosophy. Soooooo…” Her eyebrow goes up again, a perfect arch. “Should I leave you to it?”

“Talk about peer pressure, Jesus.” I fumble for an excuse. “Uh, my standby’s out of juice.” Hopefully, that’ll get her off my back. 

But Molly’s not budging. “What about the one I got you?”

Dammit. 

I look down, straight into a made-up Neil Patrick Harris’s face, remembering how we cried during “The Long Grift.”

Sarah Marie.” Her eyes narrow. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I take a deep breath, let it out and mumble. 

“Come again?” She scoots toward me on the couch, her tits bouncing just slightly, curving under a hot-pink sports bra. 

“I’m scared of the vibrator, okay?”

The coy raised eyebrow is gone. Instead, my best friend looks at me like she used to look at her Calculus 201 textbook before dropping the class and switching to Math for English Majors (not its real name but might as well have been). 

“Go ahead and laugh.” I grab our now-empty mugs and head to the kitchen, avoiding her gaze. 

“Oh come on, Sarah!” She’s not taking the hint, hot on my heels as I plunk the mugs in the sink as hard as I can without breaking them. Hedwig’s face is precious, after all. 

I turn around and she’s in my face.

Not in an oppressive way, but… close. And now it’s back in my head: New Year’s Eve. Molly, coyly asking for a kiss, me giggling my assent, both of us in shiny party hats, high on champagne bubbles. I went in, expecting a little peck, even a brief, soft smooch if we were really feeling saucy.

Instead, her mouth met mine and I tumbled down a Molly void. Her lips were sweet, supple, working against mine. When she slid her tongue in, I sucked it into my mouth, enjoying her little moan. Her hands slid down to cup my tits when we were interrupted by Sean’s drunken half-joking-but-really-serious request for a threesome. 

Why are straight men the worst?

I wonder if Molly’s remembering New Year’s Eve too.

“How could you think I’d judge you for that? Laugh at you for being vulnerable?” Now our eyes are locked. Her lower lip trembles like it does when she’s upset, and it’s all I can do not to kiss it better. Strawberry-vanilla surrounds me in a candy cloud. I’m trapped in the best possible way. “What scares you about the Magic Wand?”

I hesitate. “I feel like such a baby.”

“Tell me,” she says, Hershey’s Kiss eyes a well of concern. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable.” Our chests are almost touching. I want to press my tits to hers so badly.

But I wasn’t lying.

I sigh. “Look, I know you meant well, and I’m sure it’s really popular for a reason. But it’s just so… intense. Even on the lowest setting, I feel like I’m going to burn my clit off or something.” She opens her mouth and I hold up a hand. “I know I’m being alarmist, but I can’t help it. And, I don’t know, it’s just so – fuck, this is going to sound like the start of every porn ever but it’s just so –” 

“Big.” Her pink lips curl up in a half-smile. “I get it, Sare. I really, really do.”

“It’s intimidating, right? And you have to plug it in, which somehow intimidates me even more. Ugh.” I drop my head. “And now I really want some relief, but my only options are either half-dead or… scary.”

“Well,” Molly says, that single syllable rough in a way I’ve never heard in all our years of friendship. Now she’s the one to look down, but it’s not embarrassment. More…demure. 

Flirtatious?

She meets my eyes and arches one dark eyebrow. “Maybe not your only options.”

Molly moves half an inch closer, so her nipples brush mine, and it’s a good thing I’m leaning against the sink because I can’t feel my legs anymore. I still have plenty of room to get out, and I know she’d understand, no hard feelings, we’d move on and never talk about this again.

Just like New Year’s Eve.

Except it’s not like that night. We’re alone. My stupid ex will never be here again. 

I don’t have to crane my neck to touch my lips to hers.

I am arguably the worst kind of bisexual, in that I almost always date men. Molly is pan, but she too has had more boyfriends than girlfriends. That said… fucking women is incredible. The porn aimed at straight guys definitely doesn’t get it right. (Even though we’re pretty much acting out one of those movies right now.)

And when Molly’s tongue tangles with mine, and my fingers brush her round D cups, I remember exactly why I love women. Their breathy little groans, their soft hands, the way you can smell the moment they get aroused. 

I just never thought I’d get here with my best friend.

“I can help you...” she breathes into my mouth.

“Break it in?” I breathe back and she laughs, low and husky, and I’m relieved that in the midst of so much new we’re still Sarah and Molly, even though I now desperately want to rip her clothes off and from the way she’s nibbling at my neck, little teases she punctuates with a flicker of her tongue, she’s feeling the same. 

“Oh fuck, Mols,” I can’t help but groan, tilting my head back to give her more access as my fingers tug up the hem of her tank top to brush the smooth perfect skin over defined abs I can’t help but envy. “God, your body is perfect,” I whisper, sliding my hand under the waistband of her leggings and stroking her hipbones.

“So is yours.” She pulls away to gaze at me, eyes dark with need. I snort and she shakes her head. “No really, Sarah. You’re gorgeous. Remember that tonight – he’s lucky to even be seen in public with you.” 

Who?

Oh right. My date.

“Now,” she says, and her lips, swollen from our makeout session, turn up in the naughtiest smile, “take me to the Magic Wand.”

I could come right now, but I know that would disappoint her. Instead, I squeak out an “okay” and take her by the hand.


I could write an entire symphony about my best friend’s tits.

Her sensitive skin is as strawberry-vanilla as the rest of her, with undertones of coconut oil, and her nipples, small and dark brown, taste so sweet in my mouth. She also has a tendency to full-on shove her tits in my face and if this is the way I go, so be it. 

“Hey,” she says after a few minutes of sucking and licking. I lift my head, disorientated, staring up at her heart-shaped face. “This is supposed to be about you.”

“Tell that to your rack.” Molly mock-glares and I relent. “Okay, okay. It’s in my underwear drawer.”

“In the meantime, take your panties off.”

I bite my lip. “Didn’t you used to…”

She smirks. “High-maintenance, aren’t we?” But she knows what I’m talking about – something she did for her girlfriend junior year. Wearing only her G-string, Molly struts back toward me, breasts jiggling just enough to make me even wetter. Kissing me softly on the mouth and nuzzling the space between my bare tits, she inches down until she’s on her knees, lips gently biting around one side of my panties as she slowly works them down to the floor.

“Turn around,” she commands and I have no choice but to obey. “And don’t touch yourself till I get back.”

Soft sounds cut through my lusty haze: a drawer opening and closing, shuffling of her feet with toes painted shell-pink, and finally, the telltale buzz that frightened me so much. Now, for the very first time in my entire sex life, I can feel myself widening in anticipation as my clit stiffens, aching for sweet relief.

“Bend over,” Molly says before kissing my neck again, deeper and wetter and fuck I’m going to come right now but I’m still a little worried it’ll hurt…

Instead, I feel a gentle vibration right where it counts. Intense, yes, but nothing I can’t handle. I feel Molly’s sure hand on my lower back, guiding me into position, and I rest my hands on my comforter as the vibe buzzes away. “Spread your legs, Sare,” she murmurs, and I do so, feet planted firmly on the floor, the scent of my desire and hers mingling in the fresh air coming through my bedroom window.

“Ohhhhhh, right there right there.” I bite my lip.

“Can I turn it up a bit?” she suggests and I nod frantically, spreading my legs even wider and leaning forward, craving what I know is going to be a very intense end to this surprising sex session.

Soon I’m rubbing myself against the head of the vibrator. I can’t help it – the action eases the ache in the most exquisite way while simultaneously making me want the sensation harder, faster, more. The buzzing is all around me and sensation pulsates through me, head to toe, but especially at my core.

I begin to hear loud, deep groans interspersed with high, pleading whimpers – at first I think they’re coming from Molly, behind me, but then I hear her soothing murmurs – that’s right, yes, take what you need – and I realize the noises, resonant and proud and demanding, are coming from me.

And then everything explodes in stars around me as Molly maneuvers the vibe’s head in exactly the right spot. I move my hips around it, my focus singular, my goal to ride this out as long and as hard as she will let me. My cries are wild, my nerves awake and every cell tingling as I cry out my climax, the buzzing amplified in my ears until I sob the final release and it quiets to a gentle purr.

Fully satisfied, I faceplant on the comforter, ass in the air.

“Hey.” I turn my head to see Molly, reclining like a queen on her side, the curve from her waist to hip inviting me to stroke it, which I do. She smiles at me, running her fingers along the base of the now-unplugged toy.

Turning over on my back, I welcome the cool air on my skin. “Okay, you were right.”

She pats herself on the back with one hand, and I roll my eyes, laughing.

“What time is it?” She cranes her head to the cat clock on my wall. “You’ve got an hour before you have to leave to meet him. Want a wardrobe consultation?”

“In a minute.” I scoot closer. “Feel like leaning back against the headboard?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What am I getting into if I say yes?” But before she even finishes the question, she sits up and scoots back, legs falling open just enough I can arrange myself between them.

It’s only fair I return the favor.

I grin up at her, flushed and waiting, then at her pussy, slick and waiting for me. 

“I promise,” I say, before taking a deep breath to dive in. “You’ll come. Never a bad thing.”


More erotic adventure from Lauren Emily:

eBooks:

We Just Work Together
I Dare You

Serials:

Attagirl

Short Stories:

Attagirl: Table for Three
Body Paint
I Dare You: Pas de Deux
Good Boy
Peaches for Three
The Wedding

LE
Written by
Lauren Emily

Lauren Emily lives (and loves) in Chicago, and is the author of the novel SATELLITE.