Chapter 4: Wash Away My Sin

Gazing down at her lover, now utterly at her mercy after she had given him the blowjob of his life, Monica was stunned enough with her own actions that she had to fan herself. Very rarely did the spirit move her to give her partner head in bed. She enjoyed receiving oral sex much more than she did giving it.

But this time was different. She had adored pleasuring Chandler in this way; even if she had not, he had pleasured her with his mouth so well earlier that she felt almost indebted to him. Obligated, to return the blissful sexual favor he had endowed her with, the one that had begun their passionate affair.

As she rose languidly off of the bed they had shared – by now, multiple times – Monica refrained mightily from glancing at the nightstand clock. She feared that if she did, she would learn the time and thus, how much time she and Chandler had left. Already, a part of her desperately, dearly wished that this night would never end. All she knew, all that she cared to know, was that it was still deep night, and very late. Oh, would that it was endless night and that day would cease to be!

The beautiful chef acutely felt how the blush had spread down to her chest. She felt warm- very warm – all over. Furthermore, in fact, she felt dry and parched, now feeling thirst of a very different kind.

Despite how such recall now felt blasphemous to her, Monica thought back to her previous sexual partners, the serious ones anyway. She distinctly remembered that she had gone at least three rounds in one night with Richard, and even with Pete – but neither Richard nor Pete had ever had the stamina to go for a roll with her in the sack back-to-back-to-back, three times in a row. Chandler's virility truly left her slack-jawed, to the point where she was beginning to wonder if even Joey would have ever had the prowess to match such an impressive feat. For all his reputation and the lengthy list of conquests scattered in his wake, somehow Monica doubted a night like this with Joey would have been possible, never mind attainable. With that, she hardly spared her lover's roommate another thought for the rest of the night, except to hope that he wouldn't make it home to this hotel room this evening.

"Are you thirsty?" At the comment, Monica glanced back to see Chandler sitting up in bed, still completely naked, and watching her with kind concern.

She swallowed. "Yes," she whispered, breathless. A beat, and then she smirked. "But not the kind of thirsty you're thinking…."

Chandler chuckled, amused. By now, Monica was getting used to seeing her best friend naked, and she was titillated to realize that she very much liked what she saw. The stupid cowboy pajamas from earlier hadn't done him justice – they had cruelly hidden the sculpted, if not exactly chiseled, contours of his body, how his arm and chest muscles were well developed. Monica liked to think that their regular workouts (back then, of the more garden variety) from a couple of years ago had something to do with Chandler's arousing physique. It pleased and tickled her to think that perhaps Chandler had kept up with the routine even after they had stopped working out together. Not that she minded or blamed him for this – there were moments when even she was aware of how she could be a tough taskmaster, even if folks said it was easier to keep to an exercise schedule if you had a friend encouraging you and doing it with you.

"Oh, I bet it's the exact kind of thirsty I'm thinking of…." Chandler flirted, padding over to the mini-fridge, which was situated perfectly between and facing the two beds from the opposite wall. The entire time, his dick and ball sack hung limply between his toned legs, and Monica had to lift a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. It was surreal, watching Chandler Bing wandering around a hotel room buck-naked with absolutely no self-consciousness. In fact, he appeared to not have a care in the world.

Chandler fished out two water bottles from the mini-fridge and bashfully handed her one. Monica accepted it with an amused and shy smile of thanks. Her face felt like it was on fire whenever she so much as gazed upon her new and handsome lover.

"Ross says amenities like this cost money. Even everything in the fridge. British skinflints. Just even a sip from these and it goes on our room tab. But it's worth it. Cheers."

They chinked bottles, toasting themselves for…. what? Breaking some kind of record? Revolutionizing the art of having sex? There was something to celebrate, surely, but Monica didn't want to over-inflate her own ego, least of all Chandler's, by giving themselves too much of a pat on the back. The night so far had been nothing short of amazing, to be sure, but Monica had already had wine rush to her brain. She didn't need arrogance to, as well. It would create the unrealistic expectation that she and Chandler could top what they had already done, and at present, she couldn't see how. Setting and then redefining the goalposts of what they could do when they came together, while perhaps a thrilling challenge, also risked creating a law of diminishing returns. Monica had seen what the phenomena could do in the culinary business world.

The last thing she wanted to do was replicate such a phenomena here so that it would drag down her experience in bed with Chandler.

Unscrewing the cap from her water bottle, Monica took a hearty pull. She was still buzzed from her earlier scotch anyway, so guzzling water now had an added benefit, aside from cooling her body and satisfying her hydration. Chandler had been wise to call for a time out: the amount of sweat equity exerted by the body during sexual intercourse was not to be trifled with, and required the frequent replenishing of electrolytes.

"Do you want to take a shower?" Chandler asked.

Monica lifted an eyebrow. "You mean…. you and me? Together?"

Chandler smirked, studying her almost enraptured, and she flushed scarlet. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have assumed…." It unnerved her, to already sense how much she needed to be with him. The draw he had on her. This dance of theirs, one of flesh upon flesh, already had a pull on her. It was like a drug, to the point where Monica was already unable to so much as take a break without needing her next hit.

"We can take separate showers – cold – or we can….. shower together." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and her eyes crinkled and danced as she twittered out a laugh. "It's up to you."

No. Not a cold shower, wise as it might be even to just calm her racing heart. The burning in her loins. And not alone – Monica now was gripped by an irrational fear that Chandler would leave if she stepped into the shower by herself for even a moment, even as her brain chided herself for how this didn't make a lot of sense, considering this was his room.

Still, taking his hand, Monica slowly walked backwards, trapping Chandler in her stare as she led him around the corner and into the shower. "I want to bathe with you…." And bathe in you, she didn't add, but the lust and happiness in her eyes implied this enough.

The steam had gathered, and gathered quickly, condensing around the glass panes of the walk-in shower. Suddenly, a soft and silky hand reached through the mist and slapped the glass, the dainty fingers curling desperately, scrabbling for any kind of purchase before almost dreamily falling away, leaving behind a dewy print.

Amidst the steam and warm waterfall of droplets, Monica shuddered with pleasure in her lover's arms, squirming and mewling as his mouth desperately claimed hers and he kissed her. Curling her palm around the back of his neck, she kept his mouth pressed insistently to hers and supped from it in little, desperate pecks.

From where he had been spooning her from behind, Chandler now turned Monica about in his arms and kissed her deeply, making her melt and swoon. She trembled with delight, wonderful goosebumps alighting her flesh, as Chandler's strong palms dared to dip below her slim waist and boldly cup the flesh of her rear. First he squeezed one ass cheek, then the other, caressing the skin there.

Then Monica's thigh was in his grip, and she instantly, obediently raised her leg, hiking it up, hooking it about Chandler's torso at the back of the knee. Chandler lifted her in his arms and the couple stumbled back into the tiled wall behind them. Lolling her head back and letting her eyes flutter shut, Monica folded her limbs about Chandler's middle, twining her legs about his rippling back as he thrust passionately into her.

Wraparound…. her favorite position. And in the shower, no less!

Monica was awed by how strong Chandler was, strong enough to hold her up, and for a long time as he pounded into her, his face drooped into the valley of her breasts. He kissed her pebbled nipples, his teeth nipping at the buds before he would inevitably rear up to devour her mouth once more.

She could feel it, the moment he ejaculated and how his juices now flooded her, and Monica moaned melodiously. She was the one being braced, and yet her muscles were still burning, trembling, as Chandler gallantly set her down so her feet touched cool tile once more.

The lovers continued to make out in little frantic give-and-takes, desperate pecks. Then Chandler sank to his knees before his goddess. Practically fell at her feet, all the while letting his lips blaze a trail down her face, her collarbone, her breastbone, betwixt her boobs and still further southward…. Her belly button received a reverent kiss and Monica squirmed.

She wasn't expecting it, when Chandler suddenly decided to get on for another ride at the Matterhorn.

"Uh? … Uhhhhhh…." Monica groaned happily, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, which now rolled along with them practically. Panting, Monica felt herself sway forward until her nose was touching the shower glass. She breathed through her nostrils, little puffs of air fogging up the glass yet again – had she tried to exhale through her mouth, she was sure her breath would have come out of her in a gasp, or a happy scream.

The water bill in this hotel room was going to be through the roof by the time the boys checked out the day after tomorrow.

But did Monica care? Not a bit. The worst she felt was figuring that the payment was likely going to come out of Chandler's bank account. Unless she explicitly had him make paying the water bill Joey's problem. It would be thanks enough, for the Lothario actor staying out all night.

All at once, Monica felt her muscles seize with pleasure. Her thighs clenched, trapping and squeezing his head from where it was buried inside her pussy.

With a content sigh, she came on Chandler's face.