Twenty-one years old. 

     As they stepped out of the shower together, they got a look at themselves in the mirror. Ingrid's bushy cunt was as corn-yellow as the hair on her head. Her breasts were so big, Adam assumed they gave her backaches.

     "What in the hell are we doing?" she asked.

     "I think we're going into the other room to have sex," Adam replied, "or a least I hope we are."

     "You know what I mean."  

     Yeah, he knew. Until the moment they stripped to shower, it'd all been nothing but a shared fantasy, glances passed, fingers touching, light kisses that were meant to be friendly but perhaps were something more. One night, at the end of a long, drunken party, Ingrid planted a wet, sloppy kiss on him with plenty of tongue before slipping on her coat and rejoining her boyfriend. 

     Then, that night... 

     Drunk again at another party, Ingrid'd offered him a ride home because Angel had already left in their car, furious and barking at Adam for, really, no good reason. 

     Once alone inside Ingrid's car, the talk got candid and sexual. They rented out a motel room a mile from where Adam and Angel shared an apartment. 

     Before climbing into bed, they finished the beers they'd brought with them. They wanted to regain the buzz they'd lost taking the shower. 

     They climbed under the blankets if for no other reason than to warm themselves up. Ingrid was one big, fleshy gal. Adam felt flab and skin everywhere. Two of the blobby mounds had nipples at their center, and Adam kissed them and rubbed his chest hairs against them to harden his dick a little more. He slid a finger in her pussy, and, although she didn't stop him, she didn't seem to particularly enjoy it, either. It was like there was nothing he could do to excite her, just the opposite, and that pissed him off even as they made out naked. Ingrid was nowhere near the lover Angel was, and here even Ingrid wasn't enjoying herself? Fine! 

     Adam slipped himself inside of her and started plugging away, get it over with.

     Ingrid caught what he was doing, and her body-language-response was, oh no you don't. She made them change position so that she was on top, and that turned out to be best for both of them. Adam looked up at Ingrid in the dim motel room light and saw all that flesh and those huge breasts flopping around, her eyes closed and concentrated on reaching her own orgasm, and that was it; that was the passionate moment he needed. He spurted as, he hoped, Ingrid hit her climax as well. He didn't know for sure. She might very well have faked it.

     They dressed quickly after that and left that damned, stupid motel.

     "I feel so guilty," Ingrid said. "Angel's one of my best friends."  

     Before they got back in Ingrid's car, they passed another car, this one in flames. There was no one besides them anywhere around it. It didn't look like anyone had set it on fire. It looked, more than anything else, like it just caught fire all by itself. As they pulled away, Adam noticed that, for a few moments anyway, and just from the exact angle he was looking at it, the red flames from the car turned the entire night sky crimson. 

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