Champagne Confessions

The champagne was warm and the air conditioning was broken, which meant three things in the Matthews-Hunter household: nobody was wearing more than underwear, nobody was moving more than absolutely necessary, and nobody was pretending they weren't staring at each other.

Maya was sprawled on the living room floor in a sports bra and cotton panties, her blond hair fanned out on the carpet like a halo for someone who definitely didn't deserve one. Riley was on the couch above her, legs draped over the armrest, wearing one of Maya's old band teats and nothing else—she'd made that clear when she'd lifted the hem twice already to fan herself. Topanga had claimed the oversized armchair in the corner, wearing a thin slip that clung to her body every time she moved, which she claimed was "strategic" but was clearly tactical. "You know what we haven't done?" Maya said, holding her glass above her face and watching the bubbles crawl up the sides. "Anything productive?" Riley offered. "Moved?" Topanga suggested. "Shared stories." Maya rolled onto her stomach and propped herself on her elbows. "Last time we did that, things got... interesting." Riley's foot, dangling off the armrest, twitched. "I remember how that ended." "I remember how that started," Topanga said, and took a slow sip. "Riley talked about hotel rooms and being watched, and then we all ended up naked in the bedroom."

"Good times," Maya said. "The best," Riley agreed quietly. There was a pause. The kind of pause that happens when three people are all thinking the same thing and none of them wants to be the first to say it. The ceiling fan clicked overhead, doing its useless best. "Okay," Maya said, because she was always the one who said okay first. "New game. Same rules as last time, but different category. Sluttiest thing you've actually done. Public. Naked. Real." Riley snorted. "Define 'public.'" "Anywhere that isn't a bedroom or a bathroom with the door locked. And naked means at least mostly naked. Underwear around your ankles counts." Topanga raised an eyebrow. "You've thought about the scoring system."

"I've thought about everything. I've been lying here for twenty minutes thinking about it." Riley sat up slightly, her shirt riding up to her hips. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, and she made no effort to fix it. "I'll go if someone else goes first." "Coward," Maya said fondly. "Strategic," Riley corrected.

Topanga set her glass on the side table and pulled her legs up underneath her, the slip riding high on her thighs. "I'll go first." Both younger women turned to look at her. Topanga had that look on her face—the one that meant she was about to say something that would change the temperature in the room, and she knew it. "Three years ago," Topanga said. "Cory and I were in Prague for our anniversary. There was this bridge—not the tourist one, a smaller pedestrian bridge over a canal. It was maybe two in the morning, and we'd been drinking all night, and I dared him to fuck me on the bridge." Maya's mouth opened slightly.

"He said no at first," Topanga continued. "Too exposed. But I took off my dress right there on the cobblestones and handed it to him. Just stood there in my bra and thong, and then I unhooked the bra and handed that over too. The air was cold and my nipples were hard and I could hear someone walking somewhere in the distance, footsteps on stone, getting closer or maybe getting farther. I couldn't tell." Riley had gone very still on the couch.

"I bent over the railing," Topanga said. "My tits pressed against the iron, freezing cold, and I reached back and pulled my thong aside. I didn't take it off. I just pulled it to the side. And I said, 'Fuck me right now or I'm walking home like this.'" "Jesus," Maya whispered. "He fucked me." Topanga's voice was steady, almost conversational, but her breathing had quickened. "Right there, bent over the railing, his cock inside me, and I could see the lights of the city reflected in the water below us. It was fast and rough and I was so wet that I could hear it—our bodies slapping together, that wet sound, echoing off the buildings. He came inside me and I came right after, biting my own arm to keep from screaming." She paused. Took a breath.

"When we pulled apart, there was a couple standing at the end of the bridge. They'd been watching. The woman was touching the man through his pants. They didn't say anything. We just walked past each other, and I was still naked from the waist down, his cum running down my thigh, and the woman smiled at me." The room was very quiet. "That's my story," Topanga said. She picked up her champagne and drank.
Maya let out a long, slow breath. "Okay. That's..." "Prague," Riley said faintly. "Of course it was Prague."

"You want to top it?" Topanga asked, with a smile that was more challenge than invitation. Maya sat up fully, crossing her legs beneath her. Her panties were damp—she could feel it now, had been feeling it since Topanga had said the word railing—and she didn't bother hiding the fact that she shifted to press her thighs together.

"Two years ago," Maya said. "Before Riley and I got married. There was this hiking trail upstate—the one with the waterfall?" Riley nodded. She knew the one. "I went alone on a Tuesday morning. Nobody there. I hiked all the way up to the falls, and it was hot, like ninety-five degrees, and the water looked so good that I just... stripped. Everything off. Sneakers, socks, shorts, sports bra, underwear. I left it all on the rocks and waded in." She was speaking faster now, the words coming out in a rush. "The water was cold and my whole body reacted—goosebumps, nipples like rocks, my pussy clenching from the temperature. I waded out until the water was at my waist and then I just floated on my back. Naked. In broad daylight. In a public park. If anyone had come up that trail, they would have seen everything." Riley's hand had drifted to her own thigh, fingers pressing into the skin. "But nobody came," Maya said. "Not at first. I floated there for maybe ten minutes, and then I got out and sat on a warm rock to dry off. And I was sitting there naked, water running down my body, and I started touching myself. Just slowly. Running my hands over my tits, down my stomach, between my legs. I was wet—not from the water. I was wet because I was outside and naked and anyone could see me." "Did someone see you?" Topanga asked. Her voice was low. "A woman. She came up the trail with her dog—a golden retriever, I remember, because it ran ahead and came right up to me and licked my knee. And then the woman appeared around the bend and stopped dead."

Maya's eyes were bright, remembering. "She was maybe forty. Hiking boots, ponytail, sports bra and leggings. And she just stood there, staring at me, and I didn't cover up. I was sitting on the rock with my legs slightly apart and my hand between my thighs and I looked right at her and I didn't stop." "Holy shit," Riley breathed. "She watched for maybe thirty seconds. Then she called the dog and kept walking. But as she passed me—close enough that I could smell her sunscreen—she said, 'You're going to get arrested.' And I said, 'Only if you tell someone.' And she laughed. And that was it."
Maya leaned back on her hands. "I finished after she left. On the rock. In the sun. Came so hard I bit my lip bloody."

The three of them sat in the thick silence for a moment. Riley's hand was very high on her thigh now, almost touching where her shirt ended. "Your turn, Riley," Maya said.
Riley swallowed. She pulled her shirt down, then immediately pulled it back up, then gave up and took it off entirely. She sat on the couch topless, her brown hair messy, her nipples tight. "Last summer," she said. "The rooftop bar. The one downtown with the glass railing." "I know that bar," Topanga said. "I know you know it. You were there that night." Riley looked at her. "You were the one who dared me." Topanga's lips curved. "I remember." "Maya was in the bathroom," Riley continued. "And you and I were at the bar, and I was wearing that black dress—the short one, the one with the zipper down the front. And you said, 'I dare you to go to the bathroom and take off your underwear and come back and sit on the stool with your legs apart.'" Maya made a sound. A small, strangled sound. "I did it," Riley said. "I went to the bathroom, I took off my thong, I shoved it in my purse, and I came back. And I sat on the stool and I opened my legs, just slightly, and the bar was packed, and I could feel the air on my pussy, and I was so wet I was afraid it was going to drip onto the stool." "Was it?" Maya asked, her voice rough. "A little." Riley's cheeks were flushed. "You came back from the bathroom and sat next to me and I could tell you knew immediately. You put your hand on my knee and slid it up, under my dress, right there at the bar, and your fingers touched me and you felt how wet I was." "I remember," Maya said. Her hand was between her own legs now, pressing against her underwear. "And Topanga was on the other side of me," Riley continued, "and she was watching your hand move under my dress, and she leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'Everyone in this bar would fuck you if they knew what you were doing right now.'" Topanga smiled. "I said that." "And I came," Riley said. "Right there. On the barstool. Maya's fingers inside me, two fingers, barely moving, just pressing up into that spot, and Topanga's breath on my ear, and the bartender three feet away making someone a mojito, and I came so quietly that nobody noticed except the two of you." She looked at them both. "After that, we went to the coatroom," Riley said. "But that's Topanga's fantasy from last time. The reality was that we went home and I sat on Maya's face in the back of the Uber and the driver definitely saw and definitely didn't care."

The silence that followed was different from the earlier ones. It was heavy and electric and full of something that was rapidly becoming unbearable. Maya stood up. She pulled off her sports bra without ceremony and stepped out of her panties. She stood there naked, her body lit by the late afternoon sun through the window, her skin still flushed from her own story. "Your turn to match the energy," she said, looking at both of them.
Riley was already naked from the waist down. She pulled the shirt—the last thing she was wearing—over her head and dropped it on the floor. Topanga stood, slipped the thin slip over her head, and let it fall.

Three naked women in a living room with warm champagne and a broken air conditioner. "Come here," Maya said to Riley. Riley stepped off the couch and into her. They kissed standing up, Maya's hands gripping Riley's ass, Riley's fingers in Maya's hair. Their bodies pressed together—tits against tits, hip against hip, the heat between them immediate and urgent. Topanga watched for a moment, then walked over and stood behind Maya. She pressed herself against Maya's back, her breasts pushing into Maya's shoulder blades, her mouth on Maya's neck. "I've been wet since Prague," Topanga murmured against Maya's skin. "That story was unfair," Maya said, breaking the kiss with Riley to gasp as Topanga's hands came around to cup her breasts from behind. "You can't just say railing and cum running down your thigh and expect—" "Expect what?" Topanga pinched her nipples. Maya's hips jerked forward into Riley.
"Expect me not to—" Maya stopped talking because Riley had dropped to her knees and was pressing her mouth against Maya's stomach, kissing lower with each press of her lips. Riley looked up from her knees, brown eyes dark. "I want to eat you while she watches. Like the bar. But more." "On the floor," Topanga said, guiding Maya down with firm hands on her shoulders. "On your back." Maya lay down on the carpet—still warm from her earlier sprawl—and Riley crawled between her legs. Topanga sat on the couch above them, legs apart, one hand already between her thighs.

Riley didn't tease. She spread Maya open with her thumbs and licked a long, slow line from the bottom to the top of her pussy. Maya's back arched off the floor. "Tell me about the rock," Riley said against her. "Tell me what it felt like." "I was—" Maya gasped as Riley's tongue circled her clit. "I was naked and the sun was on me and I could feel it everywhere—on my tits, between my legs, and I was so—fuck, right there—so exposed—" Riley sucked her clit into her mouth. Maya's hips bucked.
"What did the woman's face look like?" Riley asked, then licked into her again.
"Surprised. And then not surprised. And then—oh god, Riley—then interested. She was interested. She wanted to—" "Wanted to what?" Topanga's voice came from above, low and rough.

"Wanted to watch. Wanted to stay. I could see her thinking about it." "Did you want her to stay?" Riley's fingers slid inside Maya now, two of them, curling forward. "Yes. Fuck, yes. I wanted her to watch me come. I wanted—ahhh—I wanted her to see." Riley fucked her with her fingers and sucked her clit and Maya was close, so close, the orgasm building like a wave. Topanga was watching from above, her own hand moving faster between her legs, the wet sounds audible in the quiet room. "I'm going to come," Maya said. "Come," Topanga said. "Let me see." Maya came with a sharp cry, her thighs clamping around Riley's head, her body shuddering on the carpet. Riley gentled her through it, then sat back on her heels, her chin wet, her eyes bright. Before Maya could recover, Topanga was off the couch and on the floor beside them. She pulled Riley in and kissed her, tasting Maya on her mouth, her hands roaming over Riley's body—over her tits, her stomach, down between her legs. "You're soaking wet," Topanga said against Riley's mouth. "The bar story got you going." "Everything gets me going right now." Topanga pushed Riley onto her back on the carpet and settled between her legs. She looked up at Riley one last time. "I'm going to eat you until you can't remember your own name." "Promises, promises," Riley breathed. Topanga put her mouth on Riley and Riley made a sound that was half gasp, half sob. Maya, still recovering, rolled onto her side to watch. She could see everything—Topanga's tongue moving against Riley, Riley's hands fisting in Topanga's hair, the way Riley's hips rolled up to meet Topanga's mouth. "She's good, isn't she?" Maya murmured. "So good," Riley panted. "So fucking—oh—" Topanga slid two fingers inside Riley and fucked her with them while she sucked her clit. The sounds were obscene—wet, sloppy, the kind of sounds that filled a room and made everything else feel distant. Riley's thighs were trembling. Maya reached over and touched Riley's breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers. Riley's eyes flew open.

"Both of you," Riley gasped. "I need both—" Maya leaned in and took Riley's other nipple in her mouth, sucking and biting gently while Topanga worked her pussy. Riley was pinned between them—Maya at her chest, Topanga between her legs—and she was making sounds now that were almost incoherent, broken syllables and gasps. "I'm going to—fuck—I'm—" "Come for us," Maya said against her skin. "Come on her face."
Riley came with a wail, her whole body arching off the floor, Topanga's fingers still inside her, Maya's teeth on her nipple. She convulsed through it, then collapsed back, chest heaving.

Topanga sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was breathing hard, her nipples tight, her thighs pressed together. "I haven't come yet," she said. Not complaining. Just stating a fact. Maya and Riley looked at each other. A silent conversation, the kind that comes from years of knowing someone's body and mind.
"On your back," Maya said to Topanga. "You're going to tell us about Prague again, but slower, and Riley is going to sit on your face while you talk." Topanga's eyes went wide. Then she smiled. "I love this household." She lay back on the carpet. Riley swung a leg over her, facing Maya, and lowered herself onto Topanga's mouth. Topanga's hands came up to grip Riley's hips. "Now," Maya said, positioning herself between Topanga's legs, "tell us about the bridge. From the beginning."

Riley ground down against Topanga's mouth and Topanga moaned, the vibration traveling up through Riley's body. Maya lowered her head and licked a slow stripe up Topanga's pussy—warm, swollen, slick—and Topanga's hips jerked. "Tell us," Maya repeated, and licked her again. It took Topanga a moment to find her voice. "We were—oh fuck—we were walking back from dinner. Two a.m. The streets were empty."
Maya sucked gently on her clit. Topanga's words stuttered. "And I said to Cory—I said—fuck, Maya, right there—I said I want you to fuck me on this bridge." Riley was riding her face now, slow rolls of her hips, and Topanga was trying to talk and lick and breathe all at once. Maya slid two fingers inside her and curled them forward.

"He said it was too—ah—too exposed. So I took off my dress. Right there. Handed it to him. Stood in my bra and thong on a bridge in Prague at two in the morning." Maya fucked her with her fingers, slow and deep. "Then what?" "Then I unhooked my bra. Gave him that too. And I bent over the railing. The iron was cold. My nipples were pressed against it and I could feel the cold through my whole chest." Riley whimpered above her, grinding harder. Maya could see Riley's hands on her own thighs, steadying herself. "I pulled my thong to the side," Topanga managed, her voice muffled by Riley's pussy. "And I told him to fuck me or I'd walk home naked." "And he did," Maya said. It wasn't a question. "He did. He fucked me from behind on that railing and I could see the city lights in the water and I could hear someone walking and I didn't care. I came so hard I almost fell over." Maya sucked her clit hard and Topanga broke off with a moan. Riley was close again too—Maya could tell by the way her thighs were shaking, the way her breathing had gone ragged. "The couple," Maya said. "Tell us about the couple." "They were—oh god, I'm close—they were at the end of the bridge. Watching. The woman was rubbing him through his pants. They watched us the whole time." "Did you like being watched?" "Yes. Fuck, yes. I came and they watched me come." Maya thrust her fingers deeper and Topanga shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, her hips bucking against Maya's mouth, and the sound she made into Riley's body pushed Riley over the edge too. They came together—Topanga on the floor, Riley on her face—and Maya held on through all of it, her fingers inside Topanga, her mouth on her clit, until the tremors subsided. Riley climbed off carefully and collapsed on the carpet. Maya wiped her face and lay down next to Topanga. The three of them were side by side on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling, the fan clicking uselessly overhead.
"Prague sounds nice," Maya said after a long moment. "It was very nice," Topanga agreed. "We should go," Riley said. "All three of us. Find that bridge." "I don't think we'd fit on the railing," Topanga said. Maya rolled her head to look at her. "We'd make it work." They lay there in the warm air, sweat drying on their skin, the champagne going flat on the side table. After a while, Topanga reached for her glass and took a sip. "You know," she said, "if we're going to share slut stories every time the AC breaks, I should probably invest in better carpet." Riley laughed. "Or we could just fix the AC."
"Where's the fun in that?" Maya said. Topanga raised her glass. "To warm champagne and bad HVAC." "To Prague," Riley added. Maya clinked her glass against both of theirs. "To next time. I've got a story about a fitting room at Nordstrom that's going to blow your minds." Topanga groaned. "We're going to need more champagne."
"We're always going to need more champagne," Riley said, and finished hers.