Best Friends Forever

Chapter Twelve

Author's Note: MINOR NSFW WARNING

***

Everything changed after that stupid trip to Red Feather Lake.

I knew by the end of the trip that I was going to sleep with Dahlia–or, Dalton, rather. It wasn't something I planned but as the days creeped by I couldn't stop myself from letting those old feelings spark inside me and create a bonfire that was impossible to ignore.

It wasn't even that I didn't want to sleep with Dahlia, because I did. I wanted to see if all those old experiences were just tinted with the good feelings of nostalgia or if there was truth to them. But at the same time, I knew that if I did give in, it would mess things up. All of this perfectly put together facade that I'd maintained for the last decade might just crumble if I let her touch me like that again.

And here we fucking are.

I let out an exhausted sigh to the tune of these thoughts and starfished my limbs out on my bed–covered in sweat, lube and sex toys after the foray I'd put myself through today.

It was the same exhausting sex session I'd pushed myself through for the week and a half since I'd been back from the reunion. Pushing myself to the limit and back to see if I could achieve even half the pleasure and satisfaction that Dahlia had coaxed out of my body so easily.

After eleven days of this, though, I was still coming up frustrated.

I thought that maybe I needed to just give in to those desires I'd pushed off for so long and try something new while I masturbated. Which is why I started watching lesbian porn while I touched myself.

It was alright, but it wasn't at all what I was looking for. All those girls looked so feminine and willowy. Nothing like Dahlia's tall, broad shouldered frame. They didn't have any of her strong, masculine features that turned me on, or the knowing smile that made me wet before she even touched me.

So, after I felt like I'd hit a brick wall on the lesbian train enough times I tried a different approach.

Usually I liked to use toys that stimulated my clit when I touched myself, but Dahlia had mostly fucked me with her thick fingers. She played with my clit, sure, but the real thrill of being with her laid in the way she opened me up and hit every delicious part inside of me with her big fingers.

No matter how hard I tried to fingerfuck myself, however, I couldn't seem to get those angles that she could. I always ended up feeling frustrated, halfway to a cum I knew I wouldn't be able to achieve, before I grabbed a toy and finished myself off to a stale climax.

This is so fucking bullshit. I thought with a frustrated growl as I slipped my fingers back down to my pussy, which had been so used and abused these last few days that my clit ached at the thought of being touched–and not in the good way.

I don't know what it was about her that was so damn special. I mean, yeah, she's got bigger fingers than me. So what?

I grouped three of my fingers together, trying to simulate what two of Dahlia's felt like before I plunged them inside of myself with a howl. Even feeling bruised and raw, I couldn't stop myself from the hunger in my gut for an orgasm I couldn't seem to achieve.

An orgasm Dahlia pulled out of me again and again without even trying. As if I was the personal playground that she designed.

I thrust my fingers harder and faster as thoughts of Dahlia–Dalton–floated in front of my mind. The way she'd propped herself over me and pumped her thick digits in me, as if she were fucking me with a short but incredibly thick cock.