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Friends: Deleted Scenes - The Comatose Boyfriend (MF, MFF, hand, oral, snow)
by Dudeman ([email protected])

The sandy-haired stranger lay in the hospital bed. The two women who were
with him had unintentionally put him there. They had distracted him as he
walked through an intersection, and they watched in horror as he was hit by
an ambulance. Sad and ironic; yet for him, quite fortunate. His physical
injuries were minimal, but he hadn't yet regained consciousness.

Monica, who sat next to the bed reading the paper, had been the direct cause
with her enthusiastic, though very poorly timed, "Woo-woo!" Phoebe, who had
goaded her friend into the Negligent Woo-wooing, stood at the end of the bed,
arranging flowers.

"I wish there was something we could do for him," Monica said woefully, as
she folded the newspaper.

"Yeah, me too..." Phoebe agreed, then exclaimed a moment later, "Oo! Maybe...
maybe I could, ya know, massage him back to the Land of the Awake People!"

Monica gave her a dubious look. "You think massage will bring him out of a
coma?"

"Well, it's not like Western Medicine has helped him. And, and maybe he just
needs some positive energy flowing into his body," she explained with broad
gestures.

Her friend laughed, gently. "Okay, Pheebs. Have at it."

Phoebe walked around to the other side of the bed. "Oh, but you keep reading
to him. That way he, like, hears a friendly voice, and, and ya know, he walks
toward it... y'know, back to his body."

"All right," Monica replied, slowly and skeptically. "Well... I've already
read the Times... I just have my book with me."

"Oh. Well, read that, then," Phoebe encouraged.

"Okay," Monica said, more from an intent simply to humor Phoebe, rather
than in agreement with her idea. She pulled out the paperback, and found her
book-marked place. "Let's see... 'Chapter Six - Loving Your Vagina'..."

The two women locked eyes as the title sunk in.

"I, I guess that chapter is, um, must be about, you know, feeling comfortable
with your sexuality," Monica explained, with a noticeable lack of comfort,
then she rapidly went on. "Okay, Chapter SEVEN."

Looking up and down the man's body, Phoebe commented with a lustful tone,
"Yeah, but I'd like to teach HIM how to love my vagina."

Monica ignored her. "Um, okay, this one is 'Exorcising Your Mother Inside
You'..."

Phoebe began to ask, "What, are all the chapters-"

Her friend interrupted her. "Well, it's a, a women's self-help book, okay?
Just gimme a second. There's got to be something in here to read to him..."
She continued leafing through the pages. "Oh! How about this one? 'Chapter
Ten - Breaking Through Your Man's Shell.'"

"Ooo, yeah... That's good! 'Cuz he's WAY deep in his, like, REALLY THICK
shell," Phoebe said expressively.

As Monica began to read, the blonde masseuse picked up one of the man's hands
and began to rub the muscles of his fingers and palm. She moved from his hand
up his forearm and bicep, kneading the muscles to relax them, and silently
noting how big his bicep was in her hands. Then she moved to his other arm,
as the comforting tone of Monica's voice filled the room.

Gradually, Phoebe came to massage his temples, then moved down to his neck,
and slowly, further down to his shoulders and chest. Her fingertips were
treated to the feel of the man's muscular torso.

"Well, well, we do work out, don't we?" Phoebe asked the unconscious man,
though not realizing she had said the words out loud.

Monica broke from her text, and paused. "Really?" she asked with a shy little
smile.

"Oh hell, yeah! Here... touch his chest," Phoebe offered.

Monica hesitated. Certainly it might be fine for Phoebe, a masseuse, to touch
the unknown, unconscious man. But for Monica to do it... it just seemed to
violate a social boundary. "Um, no... no, thanks... I'll just, um, read," she
replied.

"Suit yourself," the blonde said, as she continued rubbing the man's chest.

Monica kept reading, and Phoebe kept massaging. As her firm, feminine touch
moved over the man's body, his arms and neck and chest and stomach, she was
unaware of the slow, steady hardening of his penis. Then her therapeutic
attention traveled downward to his thighs and her sight caught the obvious
bulge in his crotch.

"Oh! Oh! He's waking up!" she said excitedly.

"He is?" Monica asked, jumping up from her seat, and searching his face for
signs of awareness.

"Not up there," her friend chided. "Look! Down here."

Following this direction, Monica's eyes moved downward and she saw the
now-quite-obvious tent in the bedclothes.

"See? He's coming out of the coma," the blonde proclaimed. "Quick! Go get the
doctor."

Monica chuckled at the absurdity of the request. "Right. And what am I
supposed to say? 'Um, Doctor? We think that guy is coming out of his coma.
How do I know? Oh, well, my friend was massaging him... and well, he got a
hard-on.'"

The blonde stared at her dispassionately, then spoke. "And your point is?"

"My point is that the hospital probably wouldn't like you massaging a
comatose man, who you've never met."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Phoebe said grudgingly, as she stared at the
erection. After a few seconds of thought and silence, she said, "You wanna
see what it looks like?"

Monica voiced her name in protest. "PHOEBE!"

"Tell me you don't want to see what it looks like. Tell me you're not the
least bit curious," came the challenge.

Monica managed to lie. "No, I'm not. I, I don't... want to see... it."

"Okay... now tell me honestly," the blonde replied, calling her bluff.

"Look, we should probably just go," her friend said, trying to avoid the
whole topic. She packed away her book and reached for her jacket.

"But we can't just leave him like this."

"Leave him like what?"

"Well, all... hard, and aroused, and... TENSE."

"And what do you propose we do?" Monica asked, knowing she didn't want to
hear the answer.

"Well, maybe we can, y'know, give him a hand."

"Let me get this straight... You want to molest an unconscious man, so he'll
cum, and his hard-on will go away."

Phoebe replied cautiously, "'Molest' is such a dirty-sounding word."

"Okay," Monica paused before rattling off a series of alternates. "Molest.
Fondle. Grope. Masturbate. Jack off. Spank the monkey! Any of these words
even APPROACHING an appropriate activity for this situation?"

"No," came the grudging reply, "no. Yes, I know... you're right. We just...
that's just... okay, we can't. Okay? Happy?"

Monica took on a more accepting tone. "Y'know, Pheebs, it would be different
if he was... well... 'un-comatose'. But with him like this, we just can't,
'k?"

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should just go."

"That would probably be best," Monica agreed.

The girls put on their coats and left the room; walking down the hall, and
taking the elevator to ground level. They went down the street to the subway
station, and as they approached it, Phoebe spoke.

"Oh, no," she said in her characteristic Phoebe-esque way. "I forgot my
guitar." She tried to fake a laugh at her supposed forgetfulness.

"Phoebe," Monica began with a stern tone, "you're not just going back to do
stuff to that guy, are you?"

"No! No, not at all. You were right. We can't do 'that' to him. I just need
to go get my guitar. 'Cuz, I play tomorrow at the coffee house."

Monica stared at her with wariness for a few moments. Then satisfied with
her friend's promise, she moved on. "Okay, well, I have to get back and
change for tonight. Don't forget, we're meeting Chandler's mom at that
Mexican restaurant. 6:30, 'k? I'll call your machine and leave directions."

"Got it. I'll just go and grab my guitar. And... I'll see you there."

As her friend walked away, Phoebe got a little grin and pulled her hand
out of her jacket pocket. She looked at the crossed fingers. "SUCH a handy
thing," she said to herself.

Minutes later, the blonde entered the hospital room. Her eyes immediately
went to the unconscious man's loins. The tent was smaller, though his
lingering stiffness was obvious.

Her hand went to the bulge, rubbing its length. "See? I told Monica you
needed my help," she said, receiving no response... not that she expected
any.

Phoebe's gaze slowly went up his body, eventually resting upon his gentle,
handsome face. As she watched for a reaction, which she secretly hoped
wouldn't come, her hand moved down and across the man's thigh.

It slipped beneath the thin blanket and sheet at the side of the bed, and for
the first time, her fingertips touched the bare skin of his leg. They traced
along his defined, though relaxed, quads.

"Oh yeah, you do work out," she said, giving an unacknowledged complement.
"Nice... VERY nice!"

Her hand glided upward, under his short hospital smock... and inside the leg
hole of his boxers. Phoebe's shortly-trimmed nails gently scraped across his
sack. It was nice and tight, giving additional evidence of the comatose man's
arousal. Her fingers tracing the features of his genitals, like a woman
deprived of sight. She caressed his scrotum for a little while, before
reaching further up, and touching his erect penis and feeling his smooth
skin.

"Mmm... soft..." she purred. Phoebe's non-therapeutic genital massage grew
the hardness of the man's member. She enjoyed the feel of the long stiff cock
under her palm. But soon, it wasn't enough to just touch him.

The blankets were tucked in around his chest, however, a few seconds later,
they were pulled down to the man's knees.

"I, I hope you won't be too cold, or anything," Phoebe said. "But I'm pretty
sure I can warm you up... well, you know, at least the part that counts!"

With this, the bottom of the hospital gown was pushed up to his stomach.
Phoebe pulled down the waistband of his boxers, hooking it under his balls.
As soon as it was free, the man's cock sprung up to full attention.

Phoebe's eyes got wide at the sight of the large member. "Oh! It's everything
I hoped for," she gushed, as though expressing thanks for an extravagant
gift.

"Okay," she explained matter-of-factly to the sleeping man. "I don't have
a lot of time, so I'm just gonna help you... you know... get unhard. But
maybe... maybe sometime we can get together and I can show you what I'm
REALLY good at... y'know, sexually and stuff."

Her hand wrapped loosely around the man's dick, and she began slowly
stroking it up and down, enjoying the softness of the skin. In time, her grip
tightened; just enough that the skin began moving with her hand. With several
strokes, the penis was again stiff as a board.

She paused her jacking, and simply held it, admiring its size and
features. She caressed the fleshy head with her fingertips, and it flinched
involuntarily. Phoebe giggled, and repeated the stimulation. "Now I know ONE
thing you like."

Her hand slowly rubbed it, as she considered what else she should do for him.
She knew she could just masturbate him until he came, but...

She addressed the man as he lay there, exposed. "Okay. The first thing you
should know about me is that I'm a vegetarian. But, y'know, don't worry,
'cuz that doesn't include THIS kind of meat. No. Actually, I LIKE a nice...
y'know... FIRM... piece of man-meat in my mouth," she finished with an
intense, desirous tone.

Before the heart monitor could sound its next beep, Phoebe's lips were
wrapped around his dick. "Mmm," she gave a little moan, pleased with the size
of the head. She gave a couple of sloppy sucks before commenting with full
mouth, "Vewry nifce!"

Her head fell and rose a few times, turning slightly each time, so her tongue
could feel him from different angles. Soon, the upper two-thirds of his shaft
shone with her saliva. She pulled off and smacked her lips.

Her hand jacked him, moving the wetness down the pole. She put her mouth back
on it, sucking sloppily for just a few seconds. This was followed by a little
more rubbing... a little more sucking... and the cock was quickly moistened
all the way to its base.

"Okay, like, I know you can't have, ya know, the FULL Phoebe Experience,"
she addressed him, "but, just think of this as, like... a sample. Ooo! Or
an appetizer. I know Monica's the chef, and all... but, just remember that
PHOEBE is the one who can, ya know... satisfy your sexual... like... HUNGER."

The erotic intensity of her words was soon followed-up with matching passion
in her blowjob. Amid these actions, her cute green and burgundy hat fell off
her noggin, and rolled off the opposite side of the bed. Her long golden
locks cascaded across his stomach and thighs. The way they moved slightly
with her head motions, softly caressing his skin, they probably would have
tickled him, if he had been awake.

She ran her fingers through a stray wave of hair that fell across her
forehead and face, pulling it up and out of the way. Phoebe glanced at the
man's face; his cock still in her mouth. Seeing no reaction at one head, she
determined to get one from the other.

Phoebe filled her mouth over and over with the thick piece of flesh. She felt
her nipples harden, as she serviced the stranger. The thought that, no matter
how unlikely, he might stir at any moment was quite thrilling to her. The
beeping of the monitor quickened slightly, as the man's body responded to the
stimulation.

Soft little moans of encouragement came from below, enticing the man to
either awaken... or ejaculate. Better yet, to do both. But, even if the first
didn't happen, Phoebe was sure she could bring on the second.

As she straightened up, her mouth separated from his cock. She tossed her
long hair over her shoulder with a flip of her head and hand. Phoebe stroked
him rapidly, as she teased him in her little pornstar voice.

"Do you like that?... huh? Come on, baby. Wake up and tell me what to do...
I'll do anything you want... and I mean, AN-Y-THING..."

One fist rested above the other, as she vigorously masturbated the sleeping
man.

"No? Still shy? Well, how 'bout you just cum for Phoebe? Can you do that, big
boy? Can you cum for mama?"

An instant later, her lips were back on his cock. She sucked the head as she
continued jacking him with one hand. The other slipped down, and caressed his
ballsack.

Noticing that the spit-bath had evaporated from his skin, Phoebe paused her
hand and quickly licked the full length of his shaft all around, once again
coating him.

"Come on, baby... come for Phoebe," she muttered between licks.

Her mouth enveloped the head, and her hand flattened at the base of his
shaft, pulling the skin tight. Her head bobbed up and down rapidly on the
cock. Her mind egged him on to climax. The beeps sounded at a faster pace,
with his heart signaling his response to Phoebe's cock-sucking.

"You can do it," she tried to tell him telepathically. "You can cum... Cum,
baby... Cum for Pheebs..." Her lips jacked him off as fast as she could, as
her mind continued speaking to him. "That's it... You're getting close,
aren't you? Cum, baby, it'll feel good... it'll feel good when you cum..."

As if in obedience to her commands, the cock thrashed against her lips. A
split second later, Phoebe felt a spurt of hot liquid strike the back of her
throat.

"MM!" Her exclamation was muffled by her full mouth. "Mm hmm... Mm hmm..."

Phoebe's hand resumed rapidly jacking him off. Her head moved in sync with
her fist. His penis throbbed strongly in her mouth, as it dispensed stream
after stream of cum; drenching her tongue and coating her mouth. Phoebe's
eyes widened when she realized how much jizz she got in just the first few
spurts.

She swallowed quickly, readying her mouth to receive more of the man's sperm.
His body fulfilled that expectation, firing a few more shots into her warm
welcoming mouth.

Hair still bobbing with her oral activity, she looked out of the corner
of her eye, to see if he was perhaps awake and enjoying this. But to her
disappointment, the handsome stranger was still deep in his coma.

The squirting began to die down, and Phoebe sucked the head, coaxing out as
much cum as he could give.

When she knew he was empty, Phoebe swallowed again, then playfully licked
across the ridge under his head. She giggled as his cock flinched against
her face, and this enticed her to do it a couple more times.

Then with a tone of disappointment, she stood and said, "I'm sorry. I have
to go. I wish I could stay... actually, I wish I could stay AND you were
awake ... but, just, wake up soon, 'k? 'Cuz, I'll do that for you all over
again... and more!"

Phoebe noticed the beeping of the monitor was slowing to normal. She returned
his underwear to it's position, and pulled down his hospital gown.

After tucking him in with the blankets, she retrieved her hat, but paused
before putting it on. A quick hug, and a kiss to his cheek, and Phoebe
crossed to the door. She returned her chapeau to its place, and with a
little wave, she said, "Bye... see you soon. Wake up, ok?"

The dinner at the Mexican restaurant went by rather uneventfully, with the
exception of Ross secretly kissing Chandler's hot blonde MILF of a mom. But
Phoebe and Monica were unaware of that, and in fact, Monica was completely
unsuspecting of Phoebe's new secret.

The next evening, Monica was shopping at Bloomingdales. She was alone, since
Phoebe was playing, and Rachel was waitressing. As she walked past the men's'
department, she spotted a display of pajamas. Her mind immediately went to
the man, laying in bed in that horrendous patient's smock.

Earlier that day, she and Phoebe had dropped off a nice big fake potted
plant, to add an "organic, y'know, like, life-flow," as Phoebe put it, to the
room. While there, Monica noticed again how the garment gave an impression of
true illness to a man who wasn't really sick, just not awake.

"He'll be more comfortable in these," she said to herself, disregarding the
thought that he wouldn't even be aware of the difference. She pulled out a
package of deep blue PJs, which she thought would match his eyes, and after
paying for them, Monica left for the hospital.

As she walked into the room that late evening, a short, matronly nurse in
her early 60s was tending to the man. She addressed Monica, "I'm sorry, dear.
You'll need to leave in just a few minutes. Visiting hours are almost over."

"Oh," she replied, with voice and visage that conveyed her disappointment.
"Okay. I just haven't seen him all day, so-"

"Are you family, dear?"

Monica began to laugh off the question, but then her face changed to reflect
hope and promise. She said, both to the nurse and herself, "Maybe someday."

The nurse smiled at her dreamy expression. "Well, I know how that goes -
waiting for your man to 'pop the question'. My Harold took his sweet old
time, that's for certain. Three years before he proposed."

Monica quickly tried to change the subject, rather than further the
impression that she was the unconscious man's girlfriend. She reached into
the shopping bag and retrieved her gift. "I just bought him some new pajamas,
so maybe-" She was going to suggest that the nurse change his clothes, but
once again, she was jovially interrupted.

"Oh my, what a lovely blue. Yes, a lot of people just hate to see their loved
ones in an ugly old hospital gown. I think it would be all right for him to
wear those. I just gave him his sponge-bath, so why don't you go ahead and
put them on him." She gestured to the pajamas that the pretty young brunette
held.

Monica's mouth hung open with an attempted protest, but the nurse rambled on
as she reached up and silenced the heart monitor. "Oh, and let's just quiet
that for you, all right? That annoying 'beep, beep, beep'. Why have it on,
if his life's not in danger, I say. But these doctors want to use all their
fancy equipment."

The woman continued chattering, as she headed for the door, walking past a
stunned faux-fiancee. "I'll just leave you two alone for a while. I know that
visiting hours are over now, but I'm the head nurse on this floor, I can make
an exception, right?"

"Uh, right," Monica stammered agreement, since any other answer was lacking
from her lips.

A sweet smile was conveyed from the nurse. "No hurry, dear. I'm not going to
chase you off from your man. I'll probably check in on him in an hour or so.
But if you need anything, just press that button above the bed."

The hydraulic closure slowly pushed the door solidly closed. Monica stood
alone in the room, with the comatose stranger. She looked at him, then gave
him a nervous smile and laugh, as if he could see and respond.

Monica took off her winter coat, and draped the mid-length black garment over
the chair. She spoke to herself somewhat sarcastically as she tore open the
pajama packaging, trying to digest the slightly-surreal situation, "Ok...
this isn't going to be weird, at all."

The plastic, cardboard, and stick pins went into the garbage, and she
unfolded and shook out the silk garments, then lay them on the table that
spanned the foot of the bed. Reaching behind the man's neck, she pulled the
string, holding the gown together at the top. Then she realized there were
more ties behind him. Grabbing his arms, she pulled hard and brought him up
to a sitting position.

"Up we go, big guy," she mumbled, trying to add some levity and make herself
feel more comfortable with the thought of undressing a man she didn't know.

Quickly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, to keep him from falling back
to the bed. His head rested on her chest, face in her bosom, as she balanced
him and unfastened the back of the gown.

She noticed the feel of his masculine frame in her embrace. As her hands ran
down his back, she couldn't help but dwell on how good he felt in her arms;
even if he was completely out of it.

As gently as she could manage, Monica lowered him back to the bed, and pulled
the fabric out from under his limp body. Slowly, Monica stripped the smock
from him. She caught herself admiring his chest and arms, recalling Phoebe's
comments the day before, as she massaged him. Particularly, she remembered
the invitation to touch his chest, and feel his muscles.

She thought for a moment... but only for a moment. Tentatively, her hand went
out, landed on the man's body, and softly squeezed his pect.

"Oh my," she murmured as she felt exactly what Phoebe had been talking about.
Looking at his mostly naked form, and feeling his chest, Monica silently
agreed that he was in very good shape.

She found herself caressing and massaging his chest and shoulder... though
without the therapeutic intent that Phoebe had the day before. A second hand
joined the first, and they moved over his shoulders and down his arms.

She spoke quietly to the man. "You are in shape,..." though, at the place she
would have said the man's name, she realized she still didn't know it. So she
simply finished with, "...Guy."

Her fingers slowly retraced their groping steps, then as they moved down his
chest to his stomach, Monica glanced down at his boxer shorts.

The waistband called to her in Phoebe's voice, "You wanna see what it looks
like?"

Monica froze, as if the words were actually being spoken, rather than simply
echoing in her head. She looked over her shoulder, and all around the room;
feeling the need to make sure they were really alone. Then she slipped her
fingers inside the waistband, pulled it up from his body, and took a peek.

"Oh my!" she said with appreciative surprise. Even flaccid, his penis was
impressive.

She lowered the waistband, covering him again. Suddenly, Monica felt a pang
of guilt, accompanied with a surge of desire.

"Ok, I know I shouldn't have done that," she said quietly to the man, with a
nervous chuckle. "I mean, we don't even know each other... but, um..."

Then changing her mind, Monica took another peek inside his shorts. "WOW!"
she silently mouthed.

She knew what she wanted to do. And she knew that she shouldn't do it.
Monica's own voice now rang in her ears, scolding Phoebe for wanting to
masturbate the unconscious man. But she found it surprisingly easy to
ignore her previous indignation.

She quickly went to the door, then paused, trying to think of an excuse, in
case a nurse saw her looking out. Slowly, she opened the door, just enough to
poke her head though. The room was at the very end of the hospital corridor.
Across from it was only the janitor's closet. She peered as far to the right
as she could see, and observed no activity.

Satisfied that no one was coming, Monica carefully closed the door, so as not
to allow it to bang shut. Then she tip-toed back to the bed, afraid that the
clack of her heels might somehow sound suspicion.

She reached into the man's underwear with her right hand. Her fingertips
touched the sleeping member. She gently caressed the smooth flesh, as though
petting an animal. She knew that this was one snake that would never bite.

Her small hand rubbed the penis, and she felt it begin to grow. As it
gradually filled with hardness, she wrapped her fingers around it, and slowly
stroked it back and forth, watching as her hand created a bulge moving in his
shorts.

Monica slid her left hand under the waistband, and pulled it down with her
forearm, as her hand went to the comatose man's balls. With his genitals in
full view, Monica brought his dick upright and jacked it, as she fondled his
family jewels, holding his underwear down with her wrist.

She watched her hands masturbating the sleeping stranger, though she
occasionally stole glances at his face. She would be mortified if he woke
up; but for some reason, in this situation, she was willing to take that
risk. She couldn't help herself. She just had to touch him.

Her hands traveled his cock and balls, as her eyes roamed his nearly naked
body. Monica imagined what it would be like to bed him... to have those lips
kissing her... kissing her all over... to have those hands exploring her
body... to have that long... hard... dick... inside her.

Monica felt her pussy moisten. Her heart began to pound in her chest, as she
began to contemplate doing something that was very, very wrong.

"But... would it really be SO bad?" she said to herself, with a timid laugh.
She stared at his cock in her hand, as she slowly rubbed the full length.
Quickly, she convinced herself that if he was awake, he would probably let
her... so, would it be so wrong to...

Her thoughts trailed off. Her hand left the man's balls, and her fingers
hooked her hair over her ear.

She released her grip on his penis, and quietly strode to the door. Opening
it again carefully, Monica looked down the hall. She saw the head nurse
working at the counter, with a couple other nurses milling around. The
promise of an hour alone with the man rang in her ears. She closed the door,
and returned to the bedside quickly and just as quietly.

Within seconds, Monica was up on the hospital bed, straddling the unconscious
man's hips. Her body slowly rocked, feeling the long hard rod rubbing against
her. It felt so good, the pressure, the stiffness, the girth. Two thin layers
of cloth separated them. And Monica decided that that was too much.

She raised up on her knees. Her hands went under her short black skirt, and
her thumbs hooked inside the waistband of her black hose. Monica's little
butt moved side to side, and forward and back, as she worked her tights over
her ass and down her hips. She got them just to mid-thigh, but it would be
far enough for what she had in mind. Moments later, her black satin panties
took the same trip, though they glided down her body much more easily. She
felt a little chill down below, as her wet lips kissed the air.

Monica lowered her body, pushing the rod flat against his abdomen. She rubbed
her cunt up and down it's length. The smooth skin tingled her pussy and clit.
Monica licked her lips, as she became very aware of her breaths drying them
out.

In her mind's eye, a small Devil-Monica sat on her shoulder sporting little
red horns and a tail, and wearing a sexy red bustier, stockings and heels.
Her bad-girl self taunted her. "Hell, just do it, Monica. You know you want
to. And even if he knew what you were doing, he would want it to."
Interestingly, no little Angel-Monica appeared to counter the temptation.

Unable to resist, Monica lifted up. One hand reached through her legs,
between the crotch of her tights and the crotch of her body, and the other
went underneath her ass. The very horny brunette took hold of the man's cock,
and held it straight up, as she lowered her body onto it. She felt the head
part her pussy, and begin to slip inside.

"Omigod," she murmured as she slowly penetrated herself.

With the head fully inside her, Monica released the shaft and balanced
herself with fingertips on the man's stomach. She slowly pumped up and down
a couple inches, reveling in the sensation of the cock rubbing within the
most sensitive part of her vagina, that area just inside her lips. As she
moved, she became more and more wet, and the fucking got ever more easy.
With this, her lust grew and Monica wanted to have all of it in her.

She bore down, gradually and deliberately. Her eyes rolled back in her head,
as the cock slowly filled her pussy and she gasped, "Oh god!"

As soon as she had the comatose man's dick all the way inside her, Monica
paused. Kneeling there, her short skirt was flared out, covering their union.
Yet if anyone walked in, even if they couldn't see her actually fucking him,
she would be hard pressed to explain why she was on him.

But that didn't matter to Monica right then. At that moment, she was simply
trusting her unwitting accomplice to keep everyone away.

Her hands moved to caress the insides of her thighs. Monica relished the
touch of the nylon/spandex tights. Soft.. Silky... She loved how the fabric
felt on her body. She felt so feminine, so sexy, when she wore tights,
pantyhose, stockings, thigh-highs. And she liked how she looked in them,
especially in black legwear.

Her fingers slipped to her knees, over them, and then continued down her
toned calves. She knew that men liked how her legs looked and how the gauzy
covering felt when they touched them. She loved being desirable, though she
wished that her current partner was able to desire her.

Monica slowly began rocking her hips. Wonderful sensations came to her from
beneath her skirt as her pussy yielded to the movement of the dick. Her
fingertips found their way to her feet, and as she screwed her unknowing
lover, she absent-mindedly played with the decorative bows on the tops of
the chunky-heeled shoes.

She gently bit her lower lip as her clit, even more sensitive than her pussy,
rubbed against the base of the man's hard cock. Her fingers trailed up and
down her calves. She leaned back slightly, and moved her hips up and down,
making the head rub against her G-spot. A soft stuttered breath escaped her
mouth. "Oh fuck," she whispered.

Acting completely on impulse, Monica sat bolt upright, and unbuttoned her
black suit jacket. Opening the halves, she revealed ivory skin and an ebony
lace bra to a set of closed eyes. Her fingers went to the clasp between her
breasts. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, still somewhat afraid of
being caught.

But with the decision that she had gone too far to turn back, Monica opened
her bra. The cups obediently moved out of the way as her hands came to her
skin and she began to massage her breasts. Her hips continued their slow,
sensual assault on the unconscious man's penis. She felt her nipples, rock
hard, as she groped herself.

"I wish you could do this, sweetie," she whispered. Then, with the desire for
his touch kindled in her mind, Monica reached down and took one of his hands.
Leaning forward slightly, she brought it up to her breast. She rubbed it
against herself; imagining how good it would feel if he were doing it on his
own. She held his hand there, while reaching for the other. Soon, both of his
hands were on her tits, rubbing limply against them, while she fucked the
single very-non-limp part of his body.

Her nipples tingled under his involuntary touch. They were hard in his palms
as Monica teased herself with his hands. The fleshy point of one pert tit
slipped between his fingers. Monica instinctively squeezed his hand, gently
pinching her nipple with his digits.

"Mmm, that feels good, baby. Do it again," she whispered. His hand, and
her nipple as a result, was squeezed once more, as she tried to bring some
reality to her dirty fantasy.

Monica looked down at the hands held to her chest. Larger than the womanly
ones that only partly covered them. Not callused at all, but rather, soft
against her own supple skin. Long masculine fingers made her dream of what
they could do.

She returned one hand to his side, but held the other. She breathed a soft,
sexy moan as the teasing of her clit and lips began to have a greater effect.

Monica acknowledged in her mind that this could very well be the best sex
she'd had... certainly in a very long time. And, she silently recognized that
it was partly because it fed her desire to be in control. However, she would
never admit, that in reality, she was using the comatose man as her own
personal living dildo.

Instead, her eyes closed, and she continued fantasizing about what sex with
him would be like... someday.

* * *

How he would take her and kiss her passionately. They would nearly tear each
other's clothes off. He would begin to slip his hand inside her panties, but
she would stop him. She would bring his hand to her mouth, holding it in both
of hers. She would lick his finger, while giving him a sultry stare.

As she swam in these images, her tongue glided all over the finger she
offered herself.

* * *

Then she would guide his hand back into her panties, and feel his wet finger
rub against her clit; teasing her over and over. She would feel it slide
inside her; moistened from her mouth, until her pussy could add its own
wetness. Soon, his fingering would make her want more. She would whisper for
him to stop, and he would obey, though with a slightly confused look. The
instant his hand came out of her lingerie, Monica would drop to her knees and
yank down his boxers. Her lips would immediately wrap around his cock, and
she would give him the most amazing blowjob.

Monica performed fellatio on his middle finger, mimicking the actions in her
fantasy. Her lips slipped down the digit, all the way to his knuckles, and
she wondered if she would be able to fit his whole cock in her mouth. She
slipped his finger in and out, as in her dream...

* * *

Monica's head would bob forward and back on his cock. She would pause to
lick his dick all over, before putting him back in for more sucking. Then she
would stand and playfully push him back onto the bed. As he bounced on the
springs a couple times, Monica would strip off her panties, mount him, and
impale herself on his hard cock.

Fantasy and reality merged, as Monica's body began doing what her mind was
dreaming of; sliding up and down on the man's rock hard penis. "Mm! Mm!" she
gently grunted around his finger. She opened her eyes, and looked down at the
man as she fucked him, knowing that later she would end up replaying that
dream in bed with her dildo.

She admired his physique, running her hands up and down his torso, as she
continued fucking him. Monica focused on the sensation of his dick poking
into the top of her cunt. Her body rose higher with each cycle, filling
herself again and again each time she dropped. She tried to keep her sexy
sounds quiet, hoping that she wouldn't be heard beyond the door.

Monica removed his finger from her mouth, and laid his arm at his side. As
she leaned forward, still screwing him, she licked circles around his nipple
with the tip of her tongue. Then she gave sultry, open-mouth kisses on her
way up to his mouth.

Once there, she ran her tongue along his lips, then pushed it in. Monica
kissed him passionately, probing his mouth in the way that his cock was
probing her. Though she expected nothing different, she was a bit
disappointed at the lack of response. Her mouth left his, leaving one final
lusty kiss. Her head moved to the side, and she suckled his earlobe, as her
eyelids slowly dropped.

Monica's body writhed on top of her lover's. Her short skirt swayed slightly,
drawing the cool hospital room air beneath the hem. She felt breezy licks
along the bare skin of her ass and the upper backs of her thighs.

The way the petite minx moved, her nipples grazed against his chest. They
tingled in harmony with her clit rubbing against his pelvis. This combined
nicely with the way her abdomen rubbed against the soft tights and panties,
stretched from thigh to thigh and pressed between their bodies.

She could feel herself growing closer to climax. Her breath quickened. She
uttered quiet whimpers of heightened arousal in the man's ear. Her exhales
came back, hot and humid on her face.

"Make me cum, baby... make me cum," she whispered, as though he had anything
to do about it.

Suddenly, Monica's hand came to the man's chest, and she pushed herself
upright. Her body heaved and undulated, bouncing up and down, as she fucked
herself on her sleeping partner, holding onto his sides.

"I'm close... I'm close..." she softly whined, her eyes tightly shut.

The dark-headed beauty leaned back. The halves of her suit jacket and bra
fell away from her torso, and came to rest against her arms, as the garments
hung from her shoulders. Fingers wrapped around each nylon-covered ankle. Her
hips bucked up and down, grinding the head of his cock against the front wall
of her pussy.

"Yes... yes... yes..." Monica panted, as she hovered almost at climax. Then,
his dick hit a particularly sensitive spot within her, taking her over the
edge.

Monica had the presence of mind to try not to attract attention from outside
the room, though she still wanted deeply to savor her orgasm.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh..." she groaned as hushed as she could manage, suppressing her
mewing moans. "uhhhhhh... uhhhhhh... mmmm... mmmhhhmmmm."

Heavy breaths flowed back and forth through her erotically open mouth. Her
body pitched forward, and she resumed her hard fucking.

Her finger tips rested on the man's chest, and just as her climax started to
slow, she felt two deep exhales from his lungs. An instant later, hot cum
flooded her pussy.

"Oh yeah, baby," she whispered, driven on by the sensuous, and slightly
kinky, situation. She leaned forward and her little butt bobbed rapidly,
jacking him with her cunt. "Cum in me. Fill me up. I want it."

His body could do nothing but answered her request. Fresh streams of jizz
shot into Monica, each seemingly hotter than the last.

"Oh, sweetie... mmm... yeah..." she muttered. She felt the flow gradually
subside. Her hips matched the easing of his climax, and eventually Monica
came to rest with her naked chest against his.

She kissed him, with a gentle smile. But her basking didn't last for long,
as she realized that in that position, her short skirt didn't hide much and
anyone walking in the door would clearly see his dick in her cunt.

Monica pulled off the man, and hopped off the bed. Going to the room's
private bath, she quickly cleaned herself and pulled up her panties and
tights, before returning to redo part of the man's spongebath. As she
washed him and dressed him in his new pajamas, Monica struggled with
whether she should feel guilty.

"It wasn't REALLY wrong, was it?" she asked. Her mind filled in the silence
with an imagined answer of acceptance, which was more than enough to soothe
her conscience.

Monica straightened her clothes and put on her coat, before tucking him in
and giving him a loving kiss. "I'll see you later, sweetie," she said softly.

As she walked past the nurse's station, her oblivious partner-in-crime called
out to her. "Have a good night, dear. Will you be visiting him tomorrow?"

"Um, yes... I'm, uh... I'm pretty sure I will be able to, um... 'visit' him,"
Monica replied, nervously trying not to convey anything in her words or tone
that would raise suspicion. "Yep, you betcha," she mumbled to herself as she
walked to the elevator.

That night, she couldn't get her mind off her new flame. Monica masturbated.
Twice. Once when she first went to bed, and again when she woke up from a
very erotic dream. Both times, like at the hospital, she barely made a sound,
fearful that Rachel and Paolo would hear her from the adjacent bedroom.

Certainly, her dildo, and later her fingers, got her off. But they just
couldn't match the feeling of that man's long hard dick inside her. And so,
by the point she again drifted off to sleep, Monica had determined to go
back and avail herself of another session with her comatose lover.

The next day, Monica happily strolled down the hospital corridor. As she
passed the nurse's station, she noticed that the head nurse from the night
before, her accessory to the dirty deed, was gone. But, none of the new
faces even turned to acknowledge her as she walked by, and so, she began
to think that this time could be as easy as the previous night.

However, in her mind she went over her prepared story that she would call
up if she was caught in the act: she was the man's finance, and she just
couldn't bear feeling that so distant from him, in his comatose state.
Though she knew it was a little weird, she just had to feel close to him
again, and one thing led to another...

It might not be completely believable, but it should be enough to get her out
of trouble. Especially if she could play it like a silly girl; truly in love,
but naive and rash.

The balloons, that she bought at the giftshop as a prop to her airhead
girlfriend ruse, bumped randomly together as she approached the door. She
pushed on it, and walked through, still practicing her pretense as she did
so.

She stopped short when she saw Phoebe. The blonde was stroking the comatose
man's hair, but turned when she heard Monica enter. A look of knowing
suspicion came from her.

"Hi," Monica said. Her expression attempted to hide her immediate awareness
that she needed to scrub the plan without raising unwanted attention.

"Hi," Phoebe replied, with an unyielding stare and a plastic smile.

After a moment of awkward silence, Monica spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, I just thought I'd stop by..." Phoebe began to reply casually, but
then realized she had no reason and thus, stammered to create one. "Y'know,
after the um... that I... Y'know, so what are you doing here?"

"I'm not really here," Monica replied breezily, as she set down the small
weight attached to the bundle of balloons. But the breeze quickly left her
sails. "Just thought I'd drop these off... on the way... my way..." Desperate
to take the focus off herself, Monica walked around Phoebe to the head of the
bed, as she asked, "Do you come here a lot? Without me?"

"No," Phoebe answered, but then saw her friend adjusted the man's part the
opposite direction from her own preference. "No! NO!" She controlled her
objections and stepped between Monica and the man. "So, um, do you think
he's doing any better than he was this morning?"

Monica maintained her poker face, and attempted to craft a convincing lie.
"How would I know? I, I wasn't here."

The blonde moved in for the kill. "Really? Not even to, um, change his
PAJAMAS?!" She whipped back the bedclothes to reveal the dark blue garments.

Monica laughed nervously. "I didn't change his pajamas this morning..." she
continued, knowing she'd been partly caught and had to admit something, yet
still wanting to hide the real truth. "I changed his pajamas last night."

Phoebe crossed her arms, as she grilled her friend. "Uh huh, uh huh... was
that before, or after, you HAD SEX WITH HIM?"

"I, I didn't have, have sex with, um, with him," Monica stammered, quite
unconvincing in her deception.

"No?" the blonde replied, sternly.

Monica was silent for a minute, then she cracked. "Okay, I had sex with him.
Damn it! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?"

Phoebe explained, knowingly, and with not a little pride. "Oh, I know when
people have had sex. It's, like, one of my psychic... erotic... abilities.
It's all very psych-erotic, really."

Then she shook herself back to the realization that she was supposed to be
mad. "But that's not what we're talking about. I can't believe you made me
feel, like, wrong... and, and, like a bad person, just for wanting to give
him handjob. And here you are, just screwing his brains out behind my back.
Or, maybe behind my front." She looked toward the window, trying to get her
bearings. "I don't really know which way the hospital faces when I'm in my
apartment."

In the midst of Phoebe's confusion, Monica jumped at the chance to appease
her. "Look, Phoebe, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean for
this to happen."

"Oh, you didn't mean for it to happen. And like, just how many times did it
happen?"

"Only once, last night."

"Okay, and did you like, WANT it to happen again?"

"No," Monica fibbed, convincingly.

"Oh, really. So you never again wanted to have his... big piece... of, like,
man-meat stuffed inside you," she said angrily, trying to shake Monica with
her crude words.

"No," the brunette answered, losing some of her resolve.

"Right. And you didn't come back this afternoon to have sex with him again."

Monica cleared her throat and the word came weakly. "No."

"Are you wearing underwear?"

Monica's face grimaced as she answered, "No?"

"Mm-hm, mm-hm, I see... Stockings or pantyhose?"

"Stockings?" She was pained to reply, as she stared at the floor.

"Stockings and no panties, huh? Seems like you're dressed for, like, easy
access."

"All right, all right. I want to have sex with him again. It was good, okay?
I came back wanting to do him again, right now. All right? Now you know.
Satisfied?"

The room was dead quiet, as both women contemplated the next move.

"Well, if you're going to have sex with him, I will too," Phoebe declared.
"In fact, I'm going first."

In spite of being caught, interrogated, and made to feel that she'd betrayed
her friend, Monica flared at Phoebe's suggestion. "What? No! You're not going
first. I should go first."

"Why? Why should you get him first?"

She reached for reasons, none of which seemed particularly valid. "Well,
because it was my idea. And after all, I came here planning on doing this.
I've been thinking about this all day, and I'm, I'm already kind of ready,
y'know. So... so, it'll be easier and faster if I go first."

"Yeah well, 'fast and easy' certainly does describe you," Phoebe said, not
too far under her breath.

Monica's mouth dropped open as she gasped in shock and anger.

The blonde woman immediately tried to gloss over her insult. "Well, we sure
won't be able to decide who gets him first... okay, that's pretty clear...
and it's not like we can both, ya know, do what you did... well, not at the
same time, at least... but we CAN both do what I..." Her voice trailed off,
as she realized what she was admitting.

"WHAT? What did you do, Phoebe?"

"I, um, gave him a massage," the blonde prevaricated.

"PHOEBE..." Monica's stern tone turned her name into a warning.

"Okay, okay, when I came back to get my guitar that night, I kinda sorta gave
him a blowjob."

"You kinda... sorta... gave him a blowjob?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is
that we can both do that, at the same time. See? No fighting over who gets
him first."

Monica paused, and looked at her friend as she assessed the idea. Then a
demure smile crept on her lips. "True, we could both do that. All right.
Lemme make sure no one's coming." Monica peeked out the door, and confirmed
that all the staff were far down the hall. It slipped shut.

"OH!" Phoebe pointed excitedly. "Put the plant in front of it, so that, ya
know, if anyone tries to come in, they'll like wonder, 'What's this plant
doing here?" And, we'll like, just, cover him up, really quick. And they'll
never know."

Monica smiled at her friend as she moved the potted greenery into place.
"Wow, Phoebe. I never knew you could be so devious," she teased.

"Well, this head is good for more than just displaying a gorgeous face,
y'know."

Monica chuckled as she returned to the bed. Phoebe pulled the blanket down to
the foot of the bed, as Monica began tugging on the pajama bottoms.

"Push up his top. We don't want to get anything on these," the fastidious
brunette instructed. As Phoebe shuffled the silk shirt up above his waist,
Monica struggled to get the bottoms and boxers down below his ass. But with
one final hard yank, the clothing obeyed.

They looked down at the exposed man, his limp penis drooping between his
thighs. "All right, we don't have much time," Monica gestured as she
evaluated the situation out loud. "Maybe 10, 15 minutes tops."

"Okay, well let's get him hard," the blonde agreed, reaching for his cock and
slowly stroking it.

"No time, Pheebs. Just start sucking," Monica said as she moved her friend's
hand, and bent over to put the soft head in her mouth.

"Ooo, yeah, or licking," Phoebe suggested and began lapping the top side of
his shaft, from its base to Monica's face.

"Yepfh, yicking ipfh good, too," her friend agreed, mouth full of dick.

With the attention of the brunette's suckling lips, and the blonde's wet
tongue, the cock began to lengthen and harden. It slowly came erect, and
Monica shifted her focus lower. "Ooo! That's good. Yes. Suck his balls,"
Phoebe said, before her head went over the top.

A set of lips gave a gentle pulsing suction, first to one nut, then the
other, then back to the first. A second velvety mouth slipped up and down
the rod. And a penis soon became very stiff.

Phoebe's head left the penis, and she smacked her lips as she jacked the
shaft. Seeing an opening, Monica's mouth quickly moved up from the man's
ballsack, to cover the head.

Phoebe was about to protest, but then saw how beautiful Monica looked
sucking cock. Porcelain skin, blue eyes, dark hair. But the thing that caused
Phoebe's words to catch in her throat were Monica's bright red lips. They
were wrapped tightly around the shaft. The shade of lipstick matched the
scarlet winter scarf that still hung from Monica's neck. It was like her
friend's lips were always intended to be around a dick.

As Monica's head moved up and down, Phoebe reached over and lovingly brushed
back her brunette locks, so she could watch her give head. She watched as her
cheeks hollowed out at the top of an upstroke, just before her mouth dove
down for another series of lip-jacks.

"My god, Monica," she said in admiration, "I never knew you were such a good
cocksucker. I'm VERY impressed."

The sucking vixen's eyes smiled back. She winked at Phoebe, conveying her
thanks, and somewhat to say that she already knew she was an experienced
blowjob artist.

As Monica continued sucking, Phoebe patiently waited her turn and caressed
her friend's shoulders and upper back. She felt the soft thin cashmere of
Monica's pull-over top. What would be considered a friendly gesture turned
sexual in that blonde noggin as she recalled the time that, as roommates,
they had crossed the line.

It had started out as a drunken dare after a night on the town. Phoebe and
Monica ended up making out on the couch, which both girls remembered the
next morning. They nervously tried to pass off their passionate kissing and
lustful petting as the by-product of too many tequila shots. Besides, they
had both kept their clothes on. "No harm, no foul, right?" Monica reasoned,
to Phoebe's agreement.

But a couple weekends later, Monica held a small wine and cheese party to
share some bottles of Cabernet and Pinot Noir that were a gift from her boss.
After everyone had left, the pair found themselves back on the couch. That
time, courtesy of the liberal libations, they went further. The candles that
Monica had lit to give a relaxed atmosphere to the evening, instead fueled
desire and romance in both alcohol-fogged minds.

Kissing turned to petting. Petting turned to groping. Groping went further,
as hands went up skirts and into blouses. Fingers dipped into bras and
panties.

Clothes came off; though later, neither could recall who had removed what
from whom. With both women as equal aggressors, they masturbated each other
on the couch.

Phoebe came first with her pussy lips throbbing around Monica's fingers. Then
she regained her focus and renewed her efforts to make Monica cum. And at a
point when she knew Monica was unwilling to say no, Phoebe asked, and was
allowed, was almost begged, to eat the beautiful brunette's pussy.

Monica came hard. Her body arched and she grabbed onto a blonde head, nearly
screaming as a tongue created gunshots of pleasure through her body.

After a deep slumber, they said nothing when they came out of their rooms for
breakfast. They both knew it wasn't a dream, though secretly they both knew
that life would be easier if it was. Finally, when they awkwardly discussed
what happened, they agreed that they weren't lesbians, and that as a one-time
stupid drunken act, they should make sure it never happened again.

But now, as Phoebe gently caressed her friend's back, all the while watching
her perform a sex act, her blonde pussy began to moisten and dirty thoughts
entered her mind.

The sexy brunette had worn a high-waisted skirt that crossed her torso well
above her navel. It was tight above her hips, but flared loosely to give the
easy access she expected she'd need. As Phoebe's fingers glided over Monica's
upper back, they eventually crossed the waistband, like a small horde of
marauders sneaking through a no-man's-land.

Monica was so enjoying the blowjob she was giving that she didn't really
notice her friend's actions. That is, until Phoebe began caressing her ass.

As she stood there, bent over the side of the hospital bed, Monica felt
gentle stroking on her butt. The thin grey wool of her skirt did little to
reduce the sensations, especially as Phoebe's hand dipped behind and ran
across the very tops of her thighs, pressing the soft wool garment against
her bare pussy.

Though the answer was obvious, Monica looked up and asked nervously with a
partially filled mouth, "Wh- what are you doin'?"

"You just keep sucking, young lady," Phoebe directed with a dirty smile. The
young Miss Geller obediently resumed suckling the penis. Phoebe's hands began
roaming freely, with no protest heard.

Monica's own memories of their tryst came flooding back. It was soothingly
familiar when a hand reached under her and lovingly grabbed her breast.

The blonde squeezed the handful of flesh, and it yielded to her touch. She
fondled them with appreciation, first one, then the other, as her other hand
continued attending to Monica's tight little bottom.

But, dissatisfied with the texture of fabric, Phoebe wanted to experience the
softness of her partner's skin. Her fingertips slipped into the unbuttoned
V-neck of Monica's top.

The black cloth stretched to accommodate her hand, as it slid between her
friend's chest and the comatose man's thigh. She deftly unsnapped the front
of Monica's bra, freeing her breasts. A slightly muffled moan came from her
right as her hand grazed across a sensitive protrusion.

A groaned assent and a slight lifting of a torso gave the blonde permission
to play. Monica's nipples were rock hard. Phoebe gently pinched one and
rolled it between her fingers.

"God, Phoebe, rub my tits," Monica murmured around the dick.

She began touching and rubbing and squeezing Monica's breasts. Her friend
stopped giving head for a few moments, closing her eyes and savoring the
renewed familiarity of Phoebe handling her body.

The hands of a masseuse slowly worked her over, though not with any
therapeutic intent. Her breasts... her ass... her back... the backs of her
legs... down her right leg... then, fingers abandoning her breasts and moving
down her stomach... Phoebe's right hand joining its mate to glide up Monica's
leg... reaching through her legs... upward to cup her genitals...

Monica gasped as the downy wool was pushed and rubbed against her clit,
sending tingles through her body.

The whole time, during Phoebe's erotic assault, the brunette's mouth traveled
up and down the underside of the sleeping man's shaft, as she held it to her
lips. Then she went over the top and put the head back in her luscious mouth.
The sucking went on with ever more zeal. Monica had never had a threesome
before, and even though one of this trio was unconscious, the adventure of it
was intoxicating.

Phoebe leaned in and used her cheek to sweep away shoulder-length black hair.
One of her pigtail braids landed across her partner's face as she kissed and
nuzzled the nape of Monica's neck. She lavished attention to her friend's
neck and earlobes.

Minutes before, the sexy, quirky blonde woman was wanting a big hard cock in
her mouth. But now, she had a more urgent taste for a tender little pussy.

"Oh god, yes," Monica's mind whispered, as she felt a hand reach down to her
ass and grab a handful of long flowing skirt, pulling it to her waist. The
action was repeated twice more and she felt the hem lightly brush against her
legs as it traveled upward.

Phoebe stood. She wore an oversized olive-green cardigan sweater with muted
burgundy, red, and yellow stripes on the sleeves, and a long black skirt with
a tan floral pattern. She quickly unbuttoned her sweater and shucked it onto
the floor. Underneath, she wore a matching green tanktop that hugged her
breasts. Points came through her bra and shirt, revealing some of her
arousal.

She moved behind Monica and slid her hands over her ass and down the backs of
her thighs, leaning in against her as she did so. Her fingers glided over the
brunette's knees and then moved inward.

Monica had been standing with her legs together, one knee slightly bent and
the other straight. Almost demure or nonchalant; at least, as demure and
nonchalant as a girl could be, standing in stockings and heels with her skirt
up around her waist and her naked pussy exposed to the world. But with the
caress of Phoebe's hands, Monica's weight shifted and her feet moved apart,
almost as if in total obedience to the blonde's touch.

Palms pressed into the nylon-covered flesh of Monica's inner thighs. They
skimmed upward to find a trimmed strip of hair. Phoebe's fingertips toyed in
the patch for a few moments, to Monica's soft pleading whimpers, before her
hands wrapped though and up and around the petite woman's thighs and crotch.
They rested on the smooth skin that framed Monica's wet slit.

Phoebe's breasts pressed into Monica's back as she bent over the bent-over
woman. Her face was inches behind Monica's head, close enough to be erotic,
but not so close to be intimate, when she whispered.

"Do you want me to, like, do it, Mon? Ya know... what I did before?"

A whole new rush of emotions - desire, lust, even love - flooded back into
Monica's mind, as her body's and mind's most secret want was offered.

"Oh, god, yes, Phoebe!" she begged. Her intensity was conveyed not only by
her voice and her closed eyes, but also by the way she rapidly masturbated
the cock in her hand and heavily breathed on the base of the shaft.

The blonde temptress smiled to herself. She stood for a brief second, before
slowly lowering her body to a squat. Her knees rested on the outside of
Monica's calves.

Phoebe paused to take in the very feminine image before her. Her hands
touched and admired the fine texture of the opaque black thighhighs. The
delicate lace tops that hid the elastic, but flirted with the exquisite
flesh beneath. The toned thighs and ass, tight from Monica's position.

And the pussy. The wet, pink, beckoning pussy.

She teased around the folds with her fingertips, before leaning in for a long
lick with the flat of her tongue. Monica gasped at the prurient sensation,
tossing her head back.

"God, yes, Pheebs!" she whispered loudly, fearful that she might scream the
words.

Her head fell forward as her former roommate's tongue took another swipe.
Monica's forehead rested on the long sleeve that tightly held her slim
forearm; her mind thinking of nothing but the licking coming from behind
her.

"You better, like, keep on sucking, Monica," Phoebe reminded between licks.
"We still need to make him cum... Besides... this part is, like... really
just for me... ya know... 'til... 'til you let me have some of that big...
yummy... ya know, DICK."

The sexy little sucker acknowledged agreement to her friend's direction by
putting the suckee's dick back in her mouth. Not only did she want to service
their sandy-haired partner, but soon she was grateful to have something
stifle her moans of pleasure.

Phoebe's tongue worked languidly, as a dark head of hair bobbed franticly.
The tip traced its way through the folds of Monica's pussy; sometimes
licking, sometimes flicking, sometimes burrowing. Then suddenly, the mouth
began what can only be described as devouring.

A muffled "omigod" came from the bed, as Phoebe gave up on her teasing and
dove in. Her mouth and tongue went to work and very soon, Monica's cunt and
the flesh around it was all slick and glistening.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Monica softly chanted around shaft of the cock, as
her nasty friend's tongue bathed her genitals.

Phoebe yanked her own shirt out of her skirt and her hands quickly went up
inside. She pulled down the cups of her bra and began molesting her tits,
licking puss all the while.

Squeezing and fondling and groping and pinching. She wanted Monica's mouth
on her tit, as they had done before, but she figured that would have to wait
for another time. One hand left her chest and went down into her skirt and
panties, as she dreamt of Monica's beautiful face suckling her breast.

Her blonde cunt was quite wet. Phoebe rubbed her clit and dipped her finger
inside herself. Monica's fingers had been there once before, and as she
masturbated, Phoebe hoped she could feel them again. Then again, maybe, if
she played her cards right, she could even get Monica to lick her pussy...
maybe... maybe someday.

Phoebe's lusty fantasies seemed to empower her mouth and Monica writhed
under the labial attention. She pressed her breasts against the man's thigh,
rubbing them against it, and feeling the tingles created by the thin sweater
top against her erect nipples. Her hands roamed the man's partially nude
body; the cockhead never leaving her mouth. She heard soft moans coming from
behind her, though unaware that Phoebe's hand had found its way inside her
own panties.

As Monica moved, she kept drifting away from Phoebe's mouth, then back again.
Over and over.

Frustrated by this teasing, however unintended, Phoebe grabbed onto Monica's
stockinged thighs, pulling her back to where she wanted her. Then she clamped
her open mouth around Monica's clit and gave her a good hard suck.

Monica squealed sharply and her face grimaced from the intense wonderful
little gift. It also helped to snap her back to reality and remind her of
what they were really trying to do, and she resumed her blowjob and handjerk.

The blonde woman's sucking pulsed on Monica's clitoris, as her lower lip
brushed against a trimmed snatch of hair. Her finger slipped past her
friend's cunt lips, and began pistoning in and out at a moderate rate.
Sucking and fingering and licking and playing, Phoebe ate and stroked her
friend, who ate and stroked the object of their mutual lust.

Both women forgot that they were in a public place, in a hospital room; that
the plant by the door wouldn't stop anyone, and that they were in a very
compromising position if anyone did walk in. They simply went on and on like
this, engaging in their oral and manual menage a trois.

After several minutes, for the first time in what seemed like forever,
Monica's mouth was unoccupied to speak. "Phoebe," she panted, "can you come
suck on him for a while? My jaw's getting tired." Then she went on, as if to
save face. "Not that I can't do this... it's just that... you know... all
sucking and no licking... ya gotta mix it up."

"Huh! Light-weight," Phoebe scoffed playfully.

"Bitch," Monica shot back with a little smile, then her tongue took a quick
swipe at the cock-head.

"Well, maybe later I'll make YOU my little bitch," came the blonde's
half-jesting retort, as she stood. When she went to move, Monica's voice
stopped her, almost as if not hearing the comment.

"But-" The brunette hesitated, but only for a second, then continued, staring
at the wall across from the bed and trying not to act embarrassed at what she
was about to ask, "can you, you know... keep, um... fingering me?... while...
you suck him?"

"It depends," Phoebe answered in her sexy porn-star voice, "can you do
something for me?"

"What?' she asked, uncertainly, looking back over her shoulder at her friend.

Phoebe answered by pushing down the shoulder straps of her tank top, exposing
her tits to Monica.

"Remember what you did for me before?" she hinted, seductively.

"Yes," Monica answered quietly and self-consciously, watching a tit move
toward her mouth. It was one thing for her to be on the receiving end of
some lesbian action But to be DOING the things, especially when she wasn't
drunk... that was quite another matter, in Monica's deeply heterosexual
mind. Yet, she was silently thankful that Phoebe wasn't asking for her own
oral activities to be reciprocated.

As her friend moved into position to take over the cock-sucking duties,
Monica felt a hand wrap around the back of her neck and gently pull her
over, toward the waiting breasts. She closed her eyes and stuck out her
tongue, finding - and licking - Phoebe's nipple.

"There ya go," the bisexual blonde encouraged. Her arm and shoulder was
sprawled across the man's stomach. Her hand wrapped around his pole,
stroking it to keep it alive for her hungry mouth, as she enjoyed her
petite friend's sexy tit-play.

A couple more licks, and Monica's mind reverted back to the actions of that
night. Her tongue feeling the soft skin of Phoebe's breast; the transition
of texture as it slowly moved across the disk of her areola; the hard nub of
Phoebe's nipple seeming to push back as she lapped across it.

Blocking from her mind the harsh reactions, should her family find out, the
sometimes-neurotic brunette told herself that what they were doing really was
within acceptable bounds.

"It can't be THAT wrong," within her pretty little head, Monica assuaged her
own concerns. "Phoebe's one of my very best friends and... and it's only a
breast... it's just a little bit of licking... and I guess... it wouldn't be
bad if I just... I'll just suck it a little... and..."

Feeling Monica's level of passion change from hesitant to accepting to
willing, and satisfied that her friend would continue, Phoebe reached back
behind Monica's right ass cheek, and slipped a finger back into her.

Monica's rambling thoughts went on. "...and... oh god... yes, Pheebs... god,
her finger feels so good!" She shifted position slightly to allow her friend
a better angle into her cunt, while still obediently keeping her mouth where
it needed to be.

"Oh Mon, you're so good at that," Phoebe whispered, as she watched Monica
engaging in her first sober girl-girl action.

As Monica maneuvered for the exact perfect placement of their bodies,
Phoebe began licking the penis in her hand. Long and hard, just like she'd
experienced a couple days before. But this time, the way she was coming at
it, it entered her mouth almost upside down. The flat of the head rubbing
against her tongue, and her upper lip settling into the ridge behind the
head each time she almost pulled off.

She resisted the impulse to climb up on the bed and do a sixty-nine with
him. But only because she remembered that he would be totally incapable of
pleasuring her at that point. But still, Phoebe wanted her pussy licked.
She needed to feel someone's tongue on it... anyone's tongue... lapping...
licking... burrowing into her. Out of the corner of her eye, she flashed a
look at her friend, still licking and sucking her tits, but quickly decided
that Monica wasn't ready yet for full-on, bi-girl, cunt-licking fun.

Still, Phoebe became ever more aware of the aching between her legs. One hand
was occupied with Monica, but the other was available, she reasoned. She'd
just have to make sure that as she sucked, she kept the cock trapped within
her lips. She reached down between her legs, and began flailing at the long
dress, trying to get it out of the way, and get at her clit.

Thoughts had been racing in the mind of the dark-haired lovely. She replayed
every detail that she could remember from their wine-induced romp. The way
Phoebe had touched her and the feel of her friend's feminine body. The thrill
of stripping clothes off with abandon.

Watching and feeling the pretty blonde licking her breasts. A woman's mouth
on her tits! "God, that felt incredible," her mind screamed.

Then licking Phoebe's breasts; playfully, teasingly, seductively, lustfully.
Phoebe reclining against the couch's arm. Monica following her, laying
between her legs. Feeling the softness of Phoebe's blonde snatch against her
stomach, as Monica moved while she licked and kissed.

Recalling that, somehow, the naked women ended up facing each other in the
middle of the sofa; legs intertwined and spread. Looking up and down at
Phoebe's open, offered body. Uncaring of her own immodest display. Feeling
her fingers hot and wet, as she masturbated her friend. The pleasures of a
different woman's technique as Phoebe masturbated her.

She snapped out of her sensual reverie, when she realized an arm was trying
to move a dress. The reason was immediately clear to Monica.

"I... I can do that for you," she said quietly, looking up toward her
cock-sucking friend.

Her hands pulled at the fabric, drawing it up, until the hem was in her
fingers. She quickly tucked bunches of the skirt into the elastic waistband,
getting the front of it up and out of the way.

Then she slipped her hand into Phoebe's panties, running through a muff of
hair. As it went deeper inside, she felt the warm wetness of the cloth
against the back of her hand, and the hot wetness of Phoebe's flesh on her
fingers.

"Gohhd, yeff, Momica! Rumb meh!" came the urgent full-mouthed whisper.

Monica's fingertips found the fold of flesh covering Phoebe's clit. She
slowly rubbed the sensitive spot, back and forth.

"Fukh yeff!!!" Phoebe groaned as quietly as she could, forced momentarily to
pause her sucking, by the sharp tingles running through her pussy.

The fingers kept moving. Back and forth, then little circles. Playing with
the wet flesh. Slipping inside briefly, then back out to her clit. Rubbing,
caressing, pressing.

Phoebe's head bobbed up and down, as she sucked. The wet noises she was
making joined the room's subtle cacophony of Monica's erotic panting and
whimpers, the soft suckling sounds of the beautiful brunette's lips, and
Phoebe's own controlled moans of enjoyment.

The combination of fleshy sensations was bringing Monica closer and closer
to climax. The dirtiness of being masturbated; of touching another woman's
pussy; of sucking and licking a tit; of hearing her friend's aroused sounds;
of knowing she was sucking a big hard cock; of tasting still the precum in
her own mouth that Monica had sucked out of that rod. Her eyes slipped closed
as the wave slowly rose.

"Ohmigod... oh god, Phoebe... I'm gonna cum..." Monica moaned between licks
that had grown much more frenzied. Her hand was matching the energy of her
mouth, as though it could bring on her own orgasm, quicker and stronger. It
did, however, trigger the blonde to shift her attention from the man to her
friend. Her finger sped up, banging Monica rapidly and franticly, as she
clearly wanted.

"I'm gonna cum... Pheebs... I'm gonna cum..." Monica chanted, her hot heavy
breath against Phoebe's breast. Her friend knew she could be a screamer,
having lived in the next room, and hearing the brunette's activities whenever
she brought a guy home.

She grabbed Monica's head and pressed her open, moaning mouth against her
breast. She felt her lips clamp around her nipple, as Monica realized the
same thing, and did everything she could to stay quiet and not attract
attention from outside the room.

"mmm... mmmmMMM..." With deliberate will, the sexy brunette turned her usual
screams to simple moans and groans. And Phoebe muffled them further with her
breast. "MMMMMMM... MMMMMMMMMM... MMMMMHHHHHHNNNNNN..."

Monica panted loudly through her nose, and a sexy little nasal squeal
came out, as her friend finger-fucked her wildly. "mmMMYHMMmmm... mmmm...
mmmmmmm..."

Her orgasm began to subside, and Monica moved away from Phoebe's tit. "Oh
god, omigod," she whispered as she recovered from her climax, surprised at
the intensity of it.

"Now, me," Phoebe ordered quietly, before releasing her friend's head and
pussy, and returning to the cock-at-hand. She turned slightly, so she could
come at it from right above.

In her afterglow, Monica felt the overwhelming desire to give Phoebe an
orgasm that would match her own. Without even pushing down her skirt, Monica
fell to her knees beneath the blonde's leaning frame. She grabbed onto her
friend's panties and pulled them down her thighs, to give her fingers total
freedom of movement.

Her head tilted back, and she surveyed the two breasts that hung down above
her. Monica gave a quick flick of the tongue to both, then choosing the one
that had been neglected to this point, her mouth began servicing again, like
a little kitten suckling from it's mother.

She reached out and grasped Phoebe's calf. She caressed it as her fingers
moved to trace the scrunched-down top of the thick grey sock that came out of
an ankle-high winter boot. Then they glided back up, along the smooth skin of
Phoebe's bare leg, and found her way to her cunt.

Monica's fingertips caressed the full length of her wet slit, before the
middle one went inside. She heard a soft sexy grunt and knew that was what
Phoebe wanted. As her finger slipped in and out, Monica's tongue and lips
teased her ex-roommate's breasts.

"Yeff, Mohnm... mm hmm... mm hmm..." the blonde woman encouraged her friend,
as her lips slid up and down the shaft held between them. She paused to give
direction. "MMMMmmm... yefff... fuhkk itth.... mmm, yahhh... yyickh ummm...
yickh umm... an' sufck um... mm hmm..." She moaned her approval as her
braided pigtails began dancing on the man's abdomen.

Monica's free hand kept a breast at her mouth. She held it widely open, and
sucked hard on Phoebe's tit, drawing in her nipple, and as much of the mound
as she could get. Her lips tightly pressed into the flesh, holding the
suction as they pulsed on the disk. Her right hand continued fondling
Phoebe's pussy; finger-fucking it, and occasionally, leaving it to rub her
clit.

But Monica's steadied pace, almost a romantic one, was far too passive for
the blonde's tastes. As she sucked the comatose man's cock, she tried using
her moans to give Monica hints that she wanted to be banged harder. She even
tried using her psychic abilities, such as they were, to convey a message of
dirty desires. Then quite frustrated, Phoebe emptied her mouth.

"Damn, woman, put some spunk into it! Surely, you do your pussy harder than
THAT?"

Monica's lips separated from the breast with a sloppy pop. "Oh. Right.
Sorry." Her hand quickly picked up speed and vigor.

"Hell, yeah. Now, THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. Yeah... harder... harder..."
She filled her lips with dick again, as she felt her friend's mouth come back
to her other breast.

Monica's hand was whipping up a storm as she finger-banged Phoebe. The long
floral skirt fluttered on the back of Phoebe's legs, as the middle finger
pistoned in and out rapidly. Her tongue swiped the big pink nipple in a broad
circle, before her lips produced a few choice sucks.

"Oh shfit, thaft's goood!" Phoebe groaned. "Mm hmm... mmm... mm, usehh yehr
teeffhh..."

Monica never was one to buy into the pain-is-pleasure approach. But maybe a
little bit of teeth couldn't be bad, she quickly reasoned. She opened her
mouth as wide as she could, and as her mouth closed, Monica firmly scraped
her pearly whites, gently indenting the flesh as they passed.

Phoebe's moan showed her pleasure. Monica moved to the other breast and
repeated the action. But this time, her lips closed down on the protruding
nipple, trapping it in her teeth. She gently and carefully bit down on it,
over and over.

"Fuck yes," Phoebe whispered loudly, her head snapping back. "Damn, Monica,
you CAN be a nasty little bitch!"

The normally reserved brunette smiled to herself, as she continued nibbling
and kissing and licking her friend's tits. The passion she put into her
mouth's work, intensified her hand's actions.

"Mmm, yeah... that's it..." Phoebe uttered between licks, with a dirty edge
to her voice. "Yeah, baby... yeah... do it... come on, baby, spank my cunt...
harder... harder..."

Monica recalled the hardest she'd ever been fucked; how good it felt with
that boyfriend's body banging against her pussy lips and clit. She tried
mimicking that with her hand, driving her finger into Phoebe and allowing
the others to slap against her cunt and her palm to smack on her clit. Her
other hand slipped behind the first, allowing her fingers to clap against
Phoebe's thighs and ass.

"Yes! YES!" came the intense whispers, as her stroking kept up with
Monica's. "Do it! YES! DO IT!... I'm so close... I'm so fuckin' close, Mon!
Rrrrrgggghhh!!"

Just then her orgasm hit.

"SON OF A BITCH!" The whispered shout filled only that room. Her body pitched
and writhed, and her breasts swayed, bouncing against Monica's face. The
brunette grabbed onto one, and gave it a long hard suck. "MOTHER-FUCKIN'...
SONUVA... mmmmmmSHIT!"

Monica couldn't help but giggle at her friend's foul-mouthed pleasure,
through she hushed her friend. "Shh, Phoebe!"

The grunts and groans came more slowly and more controlled. As they turned
into heavy breaths, Monica eased her sticky hand, and soon was simply rubbing
and petting the smooth pussy.

"Okay, come up here," Phoebe panted. "I think he's really close. I felt him
almost cum a couple times, but I stopped him."

The brunette climbed to her feet and rejoined her friend at the man's groin.
His shaft was held in the hands of two beautiful women, Monica's smaller one
near the base, and Phoebe's above. Monica diddled his balls, while they
stroked him together with only vaguely synchronized motions. His cockhead
traveled between two mouths, as they took turns delivering short fast sucks
and licks to the fleshy helmet.

Monica released the cock, and brought her lips to where the penis met the
sack. She rubbed her lips against the underside of the shaft, bumping against
Phoebe's hand. The fingers went away, and she saw her friends eyes and nose
come into view.

The women quickly fell into a pattern, as they jacked him off with their
lips. Monica continued caressing his balls, coaxing them into giving up their
prize. Soon, Phoebe's tongue slid around the side of the rod, and Monica felt
it licking against her lower lip, hinting that it wanted a playmate. Her own
slipped out, and the two tongues played with each other as they ran shuttles
up and down the shaft.

Phoebe's assessment that she had kept the man on the verge of ejaculation was
quite correct. Soon, his chest exhaled deeply as a thick stream flew up and
came back down. It landed on Monica, running from her earlobe to her high
cheekbone. She blinked in surprise at the unexpected splat. But then without
missing a beat, she moved up and her lips clamped around the cockhead. A
second strong spurt hit the back of her mouth.

A split second after Monica made her move, Phoebe realized what was
happening. "Ooo yeah, give me some!" she said excitedly.

"Hm-mm," Monica disagreed, glancing up at Phoebe and shaking her head, while
the cock dispensed more cum.

"Ya-huh! Don't hog it all!" the blonde woman protested. Monica simply ignored
her and kept on sucking. The line of jizz slowly traced its way down her
cheek.

"Fine then," Phoebe pouted.

She grabbed their sleeping partner's cock and began milking it into her
friend's mouth. She felt it throb, as shots of cum coursed through it. Soon
the pulsing abated as his balls were pumped dry.

"There! You got it all. Are you happy... you... big... little...
sperm-hogger!" Phoebe blustered, jealously.

"Mm hmm," Monica acknowledged. She removed her mouth from the cock but before
could swallow, Phoebe grabbed her and kissed her. She pushed her tongue past
Monica's lips. Instinctively, the beautiful brunette began kissing back. As
their passionate liplock swelled, their tongues began swimming through the
gooey white liquid that filled both their mouths.

Satisfied that she had gotten her half of the jizzy treat, Phoebe pulled
back and swallowed. Monica followed suit, but with the slightest look of
disorientation.

Phoebe broke the silence. "Well, you were being selfish!" she pronounced with
finality.

"Yeah, I... I guess I was," she replied sheepishly.

They each stared at the glistening fluid that gave a sheen to the other's
lower lip, and dribbled downward.

"You, um..." Monica said, gesturing to the blonde.

"Oh, yeah, you too," Phoebe said, licking her lips. Monica timidly touched
her face, as Phoebe went on. "It looks kinda like shiny lip gloss."

"The guys I date wouldn't like me kissing them with THIS on my lips," Monica
commented, as she brushed her lip and chin and licked off her finger tips.

"Well, maybe you should start kissing more girls, then," Phoebe teased in her
porn-star voice. She wiped the cum from Monica's cheek and slipped her finger
into her friend's mouth. Monica shyly licked it clean. She suddenly became
very uneasy as Phoebe cupped her cheek and gave her a look of loving
admiration.

"We should, um," Monica started to speak, but with a nervous hoarseness. She
cleared her throat. "We should, you know.. go. Before someone comes in."

"Yeah, right," Phoebe said as she started to put herself back into her bra
and pull up her tank-top. "You should do something with your hair, though...
and maybe your lipstick, too."

Monica grabbed her purse and went into the adjacent bathroom. Her skirt had
mostly settled back where it should be, and she pushed it the rest of the way
into place, straightening the waistband with her thumbs. Her palms ran down
her thighs, hips, and ass, to smooth out any creases in the fabric.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingertips adjusted her
tousled hair. But Monica's mind kept returning to the sights and sounds and
sensations she had just experienced.

She applied a fresh coat of deep red lipstick, and suddenly recognized just
how erotic a woman's mouth could be.

Her nipples became hard again, and she was reminded that her bra was still
undone. With the way her skirt snugly hugged her waist and upper hips,
restricting access, Monica reached down inside her stretchy top, fishing
for the cups. She recalled how deftly Phoebe had undone her bra.

She clasped it together, and pulled her hands out of her top. As she arranged
her full breasts within, Monica watched her hands; knowing, yet unwilling to
admit, that she got a rush from caressing another woman's breasts; from
touching Phoebe's pussy; from just letting go and allowing her friend to
please her.

And that last look from the libidinous blonde woman. Monica didn't know if
she was viewing her as a friend... or a new lover... just a sex partner...
some kind of kinky pet... even a protege. She didn't know how to read that.
And she was keenly aware of being uncertain about her own newly revealed
bi-curiosity.

Phoebe meanwhile had pulled her panties back up, put her cardigan back on,
and was in the process of re-dressing the handsome comatose man. A little
smile crossed her lips as she thought about how surprisingly willing Monica
had been to do the things they had just done.

She pondered her next move, but decided an indirect approach would be best.
Perhaps dropping occasional innuendoes, just for Monica's ears. Maybe a
light, 'innocent' touch now and then. Just play her for a few weeks.

"Might be kinda fun to seduce her," the devious blonde muttered to herself,
as she tucked in the blankets around the handsome man.

Monica came out from the bathroom; clothes fixed, hair and make-up primped,
like nothing had ever happened. "You ready to go," she asked, trying to act
normal.

"Yeah. Ooo! Let's go get sushi!" Phoebe replied excitedly, in one of her
apparently disconnected tangents.

"Sure, we can find a place with vegetarian rolls, since you don't eat meat,"
Monica suggested, chuckling, as the pair put on their winter coats and moved
the plant away from the door.

"Oh, I don't know," Phoebe deadpanned. "I kind of like tasting a 'little
piece' now and then."

As Monica began to consider on the comment, they passed a nurse in the hall.
Both girls looked back to see her enter the room they'd just left, and they
exchanged knowing grins.

Standing alone in the elevator, Monica bashfully admitted, "Ya know, that
really was fun."

"I know, hey! Ya think there are any other, y'know, cute coma guys we can
visit?"

Monica laughed softly at the silliness of her friend's suggestion. The
elevator dinged, the door opened, and the pair strode through the hospital
foyer, as the seemingly ditzy blonde rambled on.

"Well, of course, I don't mean 'here'. But there ARE other hospitals in the
city, you know."

    

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