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We could see her sexy underpants. At home we kept up our fantasy talk about her fucking him. We often stayed very late at his place. Carol would still be wearing the T shirt and by now had taken her bra off. One early morning after we'd had some wine and smoked some pot, I said, "We all need to go to bed." We went into his bedroom. We got in bed, Carol in between us. I said to Carol "Go ahead and kiss him, you know you want to." She turned to John and gave him a hot tongue kiss and a tight embrace. Without talking all of us got undressed. Carol looked incredible, Firm breasts, a great ass and a body built for sex. John was tall and thin. His cock was hard and pointing straight up. At first we didn't know what to do next. Carol broke the ice by first passionately tongue kissing me and rubbing her body on mine. Then she did the same to John. John and I shared an awkward cock to cock hug. John and I were at her sides and started caressing her breasts then running our hands all over her.. She sat down and winced at the sound of her first chords. I can't write Christmas songs, but I can write a song for the man who helped me find my songs again. x-x-x-x Luke yawned and stretched as he sat in front of his computer. The stretch only served to underscore how sore the muscles in his neck were, so he stood and rolled his shoulders. In an automatic move, he saved his work before going into his small kitchenette for a drink. The novel was flowing, as he'd expected. And it was good, he was sure it was. Rough, but good. He was confident but not arrogant; every writer needed an editor. He would make as clean a copy as possible, and he knew someone would go at it with scissors, if not shears, but damn it--he'd make them work to cut anything. Emma was infiltrating the novel. He couldn't help it. He shook his head and smiled at himself. She wasn't just finding her way into the novel, but into his life, into him. Some days it was torture to tear himself away to write when he wanted.
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