I really appreciate comments which make me a better writer. Please comment and Heart if you like it :) xoxox -Belle
Women are nothing like men (as if you needed me to tell you that.) But not just in anatomy or in any carnal way. Women are unlike men in how they think and how they react to stimulus. A woman discusses her friend's body, in a conversational way, "Your tits look so great in that dress, I wish my tits looked so nice in anything I own." I have never seen men discuss their anatomy in such an obvious comparative way. Women will touch other women in very intimate ways without feeling awkward. "Feel my legs, this new razor is great." Have you ever imagined a man having his friend touch his face with the back of His hand to feel how smooth his shave is? Makes me giggle to think of, even the gayest of gay men don't do that.
Women are dichotomies in everything we do. We change our minds, we are fickle, we are two faced, duplicitous, and never seem to know what we want. We can be passionate and affectionate one moment, and nasty and cold the next. Multiply that by 2 women, and you have an exponential potential for pleasure and misery. Add a man to the mix and you have a powder keg with a lit fuse.
This is where my story begins...
She was my best friend. In the way that girls have best friends. We did things together, we shared our stories we laughed at other people, we watched T.V. together, we talked about everything, never kept secrets from each other, and told each other the most intimate details of our lives.
She lived downstairs. I lived with Hubby. She knew every single detail of my sex life with him, she giggled with me about things Hubby and I did. She told me play by play accounts of the dates she went on. We were best friends. She practically lived in our apartment. It was fun, always having her around.
We joined the same gym. We went together, and came home together. We walked home talking, and in that way that girls that are friends can do, we held hands and skipped the three blocks home. We were warm from the workout. The perspiration dried and was left salty on our un-showered skin. It was springtime, the leaves were starting to bud on the leaves and we were happy. That electric tingle of spring was in the air. That warm clean air, which gets washed with a cool breeze. It scrubs the mind of all that is stagnant or stodgy. The kind of weather that makes you want to sing happy songs like the birds that have just returned to the park after a nice holiday in the southern tropics.
When we got home from the gym, we flopped onto my big bed, the one I shared with my husband. She and I lay there, tired and happy, watching TV, making fun of whatever was on. I remember watching her. Staring at her, thinking how beautiful she looked. She was smiling, her hair was a mess. Her body, long and lean sprawled on the bed. I just stared at her, admiring her aesthetic. I watched her lips move as she spoke. I watched the swell of her small breasts in her tight tank top. I watched her, not critically, just seeing her, surveying how her body moved. I reached out and touched her face, the back of my hand sliding over her smooth skin pushing the hair from her cheek.
It was not awkward at all, not like it would be if she were a man that I was friends with, it was just me, touching her. But then she turned her head, and looked at me. Our eyes locked, she was still smiling and so was I. I slid my hand over her shoulder to the back of her neck feeling the warmth of her skin. She moved closer to me, and she touched me. We stopped speaking, everything stopped. The air seemed to become thick and heady, and my fingers trailed over her body feeling the sensual form of her, as a blind sculptor might learn his subject. My fingers traced lightly over her jaw, feeling how smooth her skin was, then over her bare arm. It didn't feel wrong, it felt so right.
We lay like that, just touching for hours. My fingertips circled her small breasts and watched as she arched ever so slightly up. Her lips parted and a tiny gasp escaped her lips. My fingers trailed over the flat of her belly and down her hip over her thigh. I was aroused, but I was sure it was my imagination she enjoyed it too. As my fingers trailed lower over her spandex athletic tights I could feel the heat of her under my palm. Her legs opened slightly, but hardly a movement from her. My fingers trailed higher and I cupped her breast again. I lay watching as her nipple tightened and lengthened. I urged to taste it in my mouth, but I couldn't she was my friend and I was married. This was wrong, so very wrong.
Then it happened, I am not sure how, but my lips touched hers, and a crackle of electricity sparked through us. It was like a bolt of lightning splitting the spring air, which announces summer. It was hot and humid and bright. She tasted sweet, and warm, and soft, and buttery, and smooth and nothing like any man I had ever kissed. Not like a man at all, nothing like it.
I still don't know if all women taste like her, but it's like the most narcotic d**g. One that slows your bl**d making everything move slower. Our hands stroked each other's bodies. Before it was just tender touching, now it was with intention. Her skin, palpable in its sexuality called to my fingers. I leaned in and held her small breast, feeling it soft in my hand, I watched in rapt fascination as her nipple tightened in my fingers and I lowered my head to kiss it.
She didn't taste like anything that my lips had ever touched before. Her skin was salty and sweet. Her breast was smooth and the pink nipple was surprising to me, it tasted metallic, and smelled like her perfume. She was so feminine, so beautiful, so sexy. It was surreal. Our bodies moved slowly against each other grinding, kissing, feeling, touching, but there was no urgency as there is with a man. When I am with a man, I feel his body and his penis separately. His phallus speaks to me like another entity, throbbing and asking to be held.
Her whole entire body was like a cock, one that I wanted to possess. I wanted to have her entirely. It was just her, my friend, my best friend who I knew everything about. I knew how she liked to be touched by men, what her turn offs were, I knew it all. It was like I had the SparkNotes to what made her tick, and she had the same manual for me.
My fingers found her softer wet pussy lips. I peeled her out of her tights and touched her softness. I slid a finger into her wetness and found knowing she was turned on by me made my head race and my body ache for her. I cupped her dewy sex and swirled my fingers into her, one then another, moving them in and out. I was so aroused, I needed to taste her, I needed to know what she was like inside. I slid my fingers from her petal soft folds and licked the nectar off my fingers. She smiled at me, and slipped her fingers into the waistband of my shorts. She mimicked me. Putting her slender fingers into my wet muff, scooping the wetness from me and we locked eyes as we tasted our own fingers wet with each other's nectar. My fingers slid down again, deeper this time inside of her, feeling that small rough nub inside of her, until she moaned and arched and whimpered my name. I was so empowered I thrust my fingers harder into her, fucking her violently with my fingers. She gripped my digits hard inside of her, convulsing until I felt her liquor oozing down my palm as she rested, panting and rasping.
I wanted more, I needed more of her. I turned around so I could lick at her glistening folds where my fingers had made her cum moments before. I slipped my tongue down her silky crack into her. I had never tasted a girl before, I didn't know how sweet and hot she would be. I slurped and lurched my tongue inside of her. She touched my sex and thrust her fingers into me. I arched and the more she thrust her fingers into me, the deeper I put my tongue into her. It was like she had had a remote control for my tongue. I responded to her and she had me whimpering and begging as I thrust my tongue and nose as deeply into her as I could manage. Then as I came she flooded my mouth with her honey. She creamed all over my face and chin. I lay spent and panting, smelling her sex oozing down my face. I was ashamed but relieved.
I didn't tell Hubby what I had done. I really didn't think of it as cheating, not in the way I would had she been a man. She practically lived with us. She and I still did all of the things we always did together. We went to work, went to the gym and hung around with or without Hubby in the evenings. It got to the point where I was wishing Hubby would go out so that I could touch her. She and I would make excuses to go down to her apartment below. "Be back soon Hubby, we are trying on dresses", "I need to borrow a scarf for work,"
"We are going to talk about girly things." Hubby didn't suspect a thing, he just was happy to be away from the girls for a while.
We would close the door behind us, and touch. Touch each other's hair and skin and bodies. We became more adventurous. I would hold her in my arms, and bury my face in her warm breasts. I kissed her skin, and cupped her breasts. I could not get enough of her lovely creamy breasts. She would undress me, and lay next to me. We touched everywhere. My fingers skated across her smooth flat belly. I loved to feel the softness of her body, savor her smells. I wasn't bold enough yet to taste her again. Taste her warm nectar. I touched it, I slid my fingers into her, curled my fingertips until I felt the rough nub of her g-spot and then, I would feel her, feel the power I had. Feel her shiver and quake as she held me tighter. She groaned my name. She giggled through her orgasms. She cooed and cried and moaned as my fingers slid into her soft moist folds. She felt like warm cake batter in my fingers and I just wanted more of it. I needed to taste her again, I needed her lips on my pussy, I needed more.
She did the same to me. I held her wrists, pushing her against me to feel her strong slim hand deeper in me. She teased me. She lowered her head to my belly and dragged her tongue downward, slashing at my belly with her long hair. She made me writhe and want her more. And I did want her. I wanted so much more of her.
She lowered her head more and held me in her arms, not like a man does. She held my bottom like one holds a fractious c***d. Cupped in her elbows, pulling me toward her, so she could press her lips deeper into me. I writhed and slid my fingers into her long silky hair. I panted and groaned, and tried to push her away, but I didn't want to. I wanted more of this. I closed my eyes and felt my orgasm sliding over me. I had been in this same position in Hubby's arms so recently, but it was so different. I wanted her, I wanted so much more. I knew what I had been doing was so very, very, wrong.
She and I were equals not like I was with Hubby. He was my Master, she was my friend. We talked about Hubby. I told her this was wrong, so very wrong, but I was so greedy. I wanted so much more, I thought I could have it all.
I was living a double life. I had to make it stop. She and I talked about it. We discussed how to keep this up. She knew what was happening to me. I was turning into a liar and cheat, things neither of us liked. We talked about how to have it all, how to not let this end, but to keep my marriage safe. We decided to tell Hubby. But not just tell him, but invite him to join. So it happened that cheating turned to sharing.
She came into our bed. I watched as my man, held her in his arms, and made love to her. Slowly, he discovered her and became aroused by her. I wanted him to know all of the wonderful things I had from of her, and give them to him. This is how I would repent. It was my penance for being naughty. I would buy back my conscience by giving him another woman, the one I loved.
And all at once, things had changed. She wasn't just another girl anymore. She wasn't my best friend anymore, she was our shared lover. I would watch as he touched her, watch as his fingertips roamed her body, and kissed those nipples that gave me such a thrill. I watched as he smelled her. I lay behind him, sandwiching him between us. He faced her though, she was new and something to discover. I felt his body stirring to hers. I reached around him and held his cock stiff in my hand. I took pride in being the one to offer him the gifts of her. It thrilled me to know that she was my sacrifice to him. I watched as she took His manhood into her mouth.
I watched as she sucked his turgid, throbbing cock, I watched as she stroked his long shaft and kissed it and took it into her lips. I watched her take him deeply and gag on his long thick tool. I watched him fuck her face as I suckled her titties. I watched his cock, fill her cheek and then reappear wet and slick. He took his time with her. He pulled out and offered his cock to me to finish what she had started. He pumped my eager hungry mouth until he came in long convulsive thrusts down my throat then onto my face and her chest. I was secretly thrilled she wasn't able to make him cum in her mouth as I loved to do.
She and I shared his cum from my mouth. He watched us share his seed. He sat kneeling on the bed with his hand on his thickening, lengthening cock, stroking himself as he watched his wife and her best friend kiss and touch. He laid me back and directed her to lie on top of me. Her breasts were pressed to my chest, and I wanted so badly to take one into my mouth and suckle it. I wanted to take comfort in her body and in her sex. He stood there at the end of the bed, as I held her in my arms, and she kissed me. Her hair curtained my view of him, but I could feel him as he stood behind us. When I thought he would take me, he took her instead. I felt her move against me, straddling me when he entered her. I felt as though she entered me. It was glorious. He lifted her ass with his hands and pressed his cock into her.
I felt her respond to him. I felt her lift up toward him, crouching to feel him enter her deeper. I raised my hips to feel her against me. I clutched at her, pushed her back against him. I whimpered and moaned. I felt her writhing against him, pressing herself deeper onto his hard cock. I wanted that cock. I wanted it so badly, but in the wanting it, I lost my power to take it, so I reveled in the humility of not having it. I relaxed and submitted. He came, thrusting into her, pounding her brutally, and she came panting into my face and clutching at my raw skin, and as if by osmosis, I felt every movement of her cunt, every quiver of body and felt her ragged breath and I came with them.
I pulled her closer to me, kissing her, needing more. We touched. My fingers found her nipples. He lay beside us spent, and held me spooned in his hips as she made love to me. She was on fire. It was different than it had been when it was just she and I. There was an urgency now, as if she had to prove she could satisfy me as much as he could. She fingered me, dipping her long fingers into my soft folds, she swirled her fingers into my pussy and teased my clit. I writhed in his arms as she did this. Then she laid me back and he lay on his side watching as she licked me, in slow swirls until her face was coated with my nectar and I was writhing. Screaming in ecstasy, I exploded, quivering and pulling her hair as my man touched my breasts.
That was the first time she slept over, in our bed. She lay nestled between Hubby and me. We slept that night, feeling devilish and giddy. We woke to touch each other again and more, the combinations were infinite. It's like we were showing off to each other, "look what I can make her do"..."look how hard He came when I did that."
It was a short summer and as all things that burn too hot and bright, it burnt out quickly.
The nights were fun with Hubby and my friend who was no longer my best friend or my lover. She became his possession as I was. We didn't seek comfort in each other anymore. We became jealous of each other and eager for his attentions. I wanted my best friend back and I wanted to be cherished and loved and coddled by him. I wanted to share my distress with her and take comfort in her arms. But she also wanted more of him, more of his attention, more his affection and more of his love, and my penance was too great. I didn't want to give HIM to her. He wanted it to be like it was in the beginning, just a fun inclusion in our bedroom with no further attachments. But all of our wantings made us lose everything we had. This left us grasping for more and more until there was only more to want because we lost it all.