Loading...I didn’t get into sex when most of my friends did. I’m not sure why, but at thirteen and fourteen when my friends were starting to take an active interest in sex and boys, I just wasn’t that interested. I suspect my hormones were late bloomers or something. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I started to feel the urges, and I tried to deal with them at bedtime by touching myself with very little results for some reason.
I had seen sex in the movies and had a pretty good idea about what it looked like, different positions and so forth, and one night after watching a DVD of “Basic Instinct” I managed my first orgasm by fucking my pillow and pretending I was Sharon Stone fucking Michael Douglas.
I am hardly a beautiful movie star though. I have a common shade of dark brown hair, pale skin and a body that tends to look plumper than I really am, or maybe I just never found the perfect clothes for my shape. My legs and torso are full and rounded, and my breasts while not huge are large. I exercise regularly to prevent getting fat out of fear that if I ever lost my discipline I might balloon up. People tell me my face is pretty, but in the mirror I just look plain. Somehow, alone at night, with one end of my long pillow cuddled to my breasts and the other end snug between my thighs, I could become, at least in my own mind, a sensuous wild-fucking beast of a woman.
And that was my sex life until I was eighteen when my parents started to let me date. I don’t think they would have let me then if they had any say in the matter, but with me old enough to move out, they backed off and allowed me a little freedom. Not that I abused their trust, really. I had been raised as a strict Southern Baptist and had no intention of getting pregnant before marriage, so the most I would allow boys was some necking and petting, never letting them get inside my clothes. This also helped prevent serious attachments, which was good, as my parents had planned for me to go to college.
In defense of my real sex life – my pillow, I have to say it was pretty good sex. I did have some occasional better sex – but that is my dark secret, and I tell about that later in the story. Meanwhile, I was always on the look out for new pillows and sometimes used more than one at a time. But my favorites were big, long pillows, and there wasn’t a position I couldn’t do it in with a pillow. On the down side, I was kept pretty frantically busy with cleaning pillows and pillow cases without having my mom sniff them, which would of course have revealed all. I’m not all that stinky down there, but I do get pretty wet, and there is some lingering smell, and I desperately wanted to keep that aspect of my life hidden from my parents.
Anyway, there I was virtually sexually inexperienced in the broad sense of the term. I was eighteen and in my senior year of high school. I frequently went to slumber parties and spent the night with friends, as these social activities met with much more approval from my parents than actual dating. My best friend was Marcie, and I frequently spent the night with her and her mom, at least once a month. Marcie’s parents were divorced and I never met her father. Her mom was really cool and would fix us really great meals and even let us drink some beer or wine at times. This was strictly against my religion of course, but I found that I really liked getting a little buzz on, especially before bed, since Marcie always went right to sleep.
I would have liked more girl talk I guess, but Marcie was a good friend, and other than her one imperfection of sleeping at least 9 hours a day, she was good company. Marcie was pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes and a nice rounded figure, and had a great sense of humor. Her mom, who was in her early thirties, was obviously the major influence in Marcie’s appearance, only her mom had a lush full figured body of movie star quality and shoulder length honey blond hair that looked like she was fresh off a commercial. It was hard sometimes for me to take my eyes off Mrs. Stengal, partly because she was so beautiful, and partly because her movements were almost hypnotically graceful.
But Marcie was certainly a lovely and sexy girl, and I loved her as my best friend. I sometimes wished I were as pretty as she was, or as sexy. Heck, I wished I could get a nice even tan like she had – all I do is burn. She was warm and loving like her mom who blew us both away with Mrs. Stengal’s superior and stunning face and body. But like most real people, I was most touched by their warm and loving characters – the fact that I could feel like I was hanging out with beautiful people was an unexpected bonus. Sometimes I wished I was in their family instead of mine, but then, I might not have appreciated Marcie and her mom as much. My family was a dynamic contrast, and that is enough said about my family.
It was a Saturday night, and I had spent most of the day with Marcie and now we were having a lovely dinner of home made tacos, cucumber salad, and some nice white wine from Germany. I know, it doesn’t sound like a good mix, but it was. The tacos were spicy, and the cucumber salad was cool, and the white wine was icy cold. After dinner, we cleared the dishes and then went to the living room to watch a DVD. About an hour into the movie, Marcie nodded out. Her mom and I let her sleep there on the sofa between us until finally her mom nudged her and said, “Go on to bed sleepy head.”
Marcie straightened gave me and then her mom blank looks, smacked her lips and answered, “K. Goodnight mom. Goodnight Drew.” And off she went like a blond zombie.
Mrs. Stengal chuckled, “I was just like her at that age. But sleeping patterns change, and now I get by fine on six hours a night. What about you, Drew?”
I suppose I would have been uncomfortable with a lot of my friends parents, especially left alone with them after my friend went to bed. But with Mrs. Stengal, I was not only comfortable, but I liked her as much as I liked Marcie, and this wasn’t the first time that Marcie had pooped out mid-evening. “Oh, if I get seven hours sleep, I’m as fresh as a daisy. I usually go to bed about 11:00 and get up around 7:00.”
I glanced at Mrs. Stengal and noticed that she was looking at me in a pretty curious fashion. I glanced down at my self and I was wearing a tee-shirt and blue jean shorts and flip flops – nothing unusual there, unless of course I compared myself to Mrs. Stengal. She was wearing a metallic green sleeveless dress and high heels. It was an evening dress, really, but it was what she usually wore at home in the evenings. I had always thought it strange that she dressed so formally, but I’d known her for years and she always had. She was even wearing a pearl necklace that I knew to be made from real pearls.
She was still looking at me a little strangely and I was wondering about that, so I changed the subject to something more familiar between us, “You sure look dazzling tonight, Mrs. Stengal. That’s a really sexy dress! And your legs! They’re so smooth and perfect it looks like you are wearing hose.” She wasn’t wearing hose of course, but her legs did look that great, and besides, I strove for outrageousness in our compliment contests. I had seen the dress before of course, she had about a dozen evening dresses, but over the years, I’d seen them all.
She took a deep breath and smiled, “Why, thank you, darling! You’re so sweet to say so! And I have to add, you are particularly stunning tonight yourself!”
I giggled. This was a game we often played, and next she would complement me on my taste in flip-flops or wonder at the wittiness of the logo on my tee-shirt. It was practically a ritual between us. “So what is so stunning about me, Mrs. Stengal? These are old flip-flops, and my tee-shirt is just white with no logo, and I borrowed the shorts from Marcie – my parents would kill me for wearing shorts this short.” I had deliberately tried to make it more difficult to compliment me, and sat grinning and waiting for her response – something like – aren’t those Parisian flip-flops? But her response wasn’t what I expected, and she didn’t play by the usual rules.
“All you need to be stunning is your youth and your hot little body, Drew,” she was almost murmuring absently, as if to herself, “The way your nipples show against that tee-shirt, your extremely lovely, smooth and rounded legs and your full inviting lips. Right now, I’m thinking you are about the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like you grew up since the last time you were here.” She was looking at me boldly, too, her eyes roaming my body as she discussed the various parts.
I was shocked, embarrassed and even a little aroused at the way this beautiful woman was looking at my girlish figure, although the way she was saying it did make me feel like a woman for the first time, but that just added with the rest to confuse me. I tried to grin and keep it light, “Wow, Mrs. Stengal, you really took off the gloves there! But don’t you think it is a little mean for a beautiful sexy woman to make fun of a plain little girl?” I gave her a smile and a wink to show I wasn’t as hurt as I was making out. I was over my head.
Shockingly, and for the first time ever, I saw Mrs. Stengal blush before she answered, “I’m not making fun of you, dear. I guess I’m still reacting to your telling me that you masturbate every night, or is it every morning? Either way, it made me look at you for the first time in a long time. You are not a little girl any more, and you have a very hot eighteen year old body!”
My jaw dropped. I didn’t know what she was talking about! I had never told anyone about my pillows – no one at all! I desperately searched my mind for something I might have said…
“Well do the math,” she said with a little smile and fanning her bosom with a hand, like I had made her warm or something, “You sleep 7 hours a night, and 11 to 7 is eight hours. What else would a girl being doing in bed by herself but masturbating? And you carry on for an hour! My, my.” She stopped fanning her bosom and gave me an intense look, “I want to thank you for the most erotic few minutes I’ve had in years. I have mainly been trying to picture you in bed and getting yourself off. It’s such a lovely image…”
She closed her eyes a moment and smiled, but I was still horrified. Found out! Discovered! It didn’t even enter my mind to deny it, besides, I could just tell from the things she said and her expression that she really knew from what little I had said. I was suddenly fervently grateful that my own mom wasn’t as sharp. Poor Marcie! She would never be able to keep a secret from this woman!
I don’t know. Maybe it was that I still hadn’t closed my mouth, or maybe it was the look of horror on my face, or even the tears gathering in my eyes, but she finally clued in to how shaken I was. Her expression changed immediately to concern, “Now, now, dear! Please don’t be upset with me! You know that I know, but I’m not thinking less of you in any way. Isn’t it obvious that instead, I’m delighted by what you told me? You’ve really given me something, Drew. Thank you! Thank you very much!”
I guess it was her sincerity that got to me as I felt the horror draining off, and in it’s place… well that was really confusing, too. Instead of horror, suddenly I was feeling relief, warm acceptance, and definitely something sexual stirring in my groin. I was even feeling affection toward Mrs. Stengal – more than usual, I mean. I was mostly confused by these feelings at the time, but thinking back, I think it was the pressure I had been under to keep my secret sex life safe from my own parents. Sometimes sharing a horrible dark secret is a powerful release – a freeing thing. In answer to her thanking me, I just shrugged and turned beet red.
She scooted closer to me, put her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek – something she had done before. She had even occasionally given me a peck-type kiss on the lips in the past, something I had always enjoyed for some reason, but this time it was just a kiss on the cheek, then she whispered, “Won’t you please tell me a little more? Like how you do it?” Then as suddenly as she had come close to me, she withdrew, “But no, don’t say anything yet. Let me dress for the occasion. Is that okay, Drew? Can I go slip into a nightie or something if we are going to do some slumber party girl talk?”
This was too much, and I had already run an emotional gamut in the last few minutes, I laughed out loud and said, “Sure!” then laughed some more. She was giggling when she ran out of the room. The moment she disappeared I sobered a little. What we were doing was intimate and erotic – discussing sex. Now that wasn’t any big deal in itself – that’s what girls spend a lot of time doing, especially at slumber parties. But now, Mrs. Stengal was going to ask me questions about my own extremely personal and secret sex life. I was of two minds on this. First, I was uncomfortable if not still a little horrified, and second, I was feeling a little aroused by this – especially the sexy things she had said about my body.
It isn’t that I hadn’t heard them before. It was the kind of things that boys said when they are earnestly trying to explain why I should let them put their hands in my panties. It is not even a very good argument – You have sexy legs so you should want me to put my hand between them. What was different here was that it was more believable. I don’t know, maybe Mrs. Stengal did want to put her hand between my legs, but that isn’t why she had said what she had said. She was just telling me what she thought when she looked at my body, and what she thought was pretty darned flattering!
I was suddenly shocked again, and this time by my own thoughts – did Mrs. Stengal want to do sexual things to me, with me, or whatever? Surely not! I thought, but at the same time, this time the shock wasn’t horror. But what if she did? As shocking as the thought was, I wasn’t hearing the usual alarms go off in my head. Could I let a woman do something like that to me? Still no alarms – strange. Well, at least she wouldn’t get me pregnant – so that is one of my major alarms not going off. But surely not Mrs. Stengal, this was crazy thinking!
Mrs. Stengal coming back into the room wearing a plain white nightie that looked like a simple slip spared me from my dark introspections. There were some differences of course, sometimes slips had lace on the trim like that, but there was no bra under this slip as was obvious by her nipples outlined against the silky fabric – or was that satin. Yes, it was white satin. It was quite lovely as nighties go, hugging her curves, and only down to mid-thigh – lovely and very sexy. And for the first time ever, I saw Mrs. Stengal barefoot inside the house. I had seen her barefoot at the lake, of course, but this was much sexier.
She cuddled next to me on the couch, put her arm around me again and gave me another kiss on the cheek, just as if she was taking up where she left off – then, she took up exactly where she had left off, “Won’t you share with me about how you like to masturbate?”
I looked at her. Her honey gold hair framed a lovely face with generous dimples, rich full lips and very intense blue eyes. A quick glance downward revealed a generous cleavage barely restrained by the low cut nightie. I quickly averted my gaze back to her face where I could faintly smell the wine on her breath, and I noticed the glitter of her emerald earrings – she had taken off the pearl necklace. Her perfume, although not strong, still seemed to fill me dizzyingly. I had never in my life wanted a woman to kiss me. I felt like I was going crazy because I wanted Mrs. Stengal to kiss me now – it was a really powerful urge, but fortunately I didn’t feel the urge to initiate the kiss, just to let her kiss me. So nothing of the sort happened.
So instead, hardly thinking about my words, “I fuck my pillow. I just hug it, wrap my legs around it, and fuck it until I come. Sometimes it takes a while to get my head in the right place.” I just said it, even more than I intended to, since my mind was still swirling with Mrs. Stengal’s perfume, and some part of my body below my waist still really wanted her to kiss me, and my heart was beating faster. Mrs. Stengal sighed, practically in my mouth, she was so close, and she licked her lips.
“Are you naked when you do this?” she breathed. The hand attached to her arm around my neck squeezed my shoulder warmly, and I tried really hard not to glance down at her cleavage again, but I did, and I noticed her nipples were pressing against her satin gown more than before. She followed my gaze, gave me a little smile to let me know she had noticed, but mostly she just waited for me to answer.
“Sometimes,” my breath caught in my throat and I had to swallow to continue, “Sometimes I am wearing a tee-shirt and panties, and sometimes I take the panties off, although it doesn’t make much difference.”
“Goodness,” she seemed to shiver a second with her eyes closed, then she licked her lips again and asked, “So what do you mean it doesn’t make a difference?” She leaned even closer and touched her lips to the tip of my nose, then added with a faint whisper, “Tell me everything.”
I blushed again because this was really embarrassing, but Mrs. Stengal was so intent, it didn’t occur to me to refuse to answer, “I mean, uh, I get, well,” it was just so hard to say it! “I get wet.” There I said the awful truth. “Whether I am wearing panties or not, I still get the pillow wet. I can’t help it.” I offered this last a little more feebly. I knew it was no excuse for the disgusting behavior of my body. Then I quietly hissed, “It’s even worse when I’m coming. I get real wet then.” I was already breathing as hard as if I was fucking my pillow, and my heart was pounding as hard. Despite my disgusting words, I could sense that Mrs. Stengal was somehow as aroused as I was, and I was admitting it to myself now, I was intensely sexually aroused. “Do you think I could have a sip of wine?” I squeaked.
Mrs. Stengal jerked her head back as if I’d slapped her or something. She gulped and said, “Of course!” in the same sort of squeaky voice I had used. She bent over the coffee table to reach my wine glass and I could see her gown turn nearly transparent, as it was backlit by the television. Her large and lovely breasts swayed slightly from the motion of holding the glass up to my lips instead of handing to me. She poured the entire contents of my glass down my throat, then reached back to the coffee table and tossed off the rest of her own glass. In a more normal voice she asked me if I would like a refill.
Numbly, I nodded my head eagerly, needing the few moments to myself to calm down a little while she headed to the kitchen to refill our glasses. I watched the muscles in her legs as she walked away and didn’t find the sight calming at all. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. What was going on with me? I had never felt this way around other girls before, or had I? I could certainly remember appreciating a nice curve when I saw it, but nothing that hit me in the groin like this, well, maybe with Marcie – but more about that later. Had I always felt this way about Mrs. Stengal? That was harder to answer because I realized that I had always had a great deal of affection for her as a person, and sure she had always been beautiful and graceful…
“Are you getting sleepy, Drew?”
Startled, my eyes opened instantly and I accepted the proffered glass and said, “Oh no maam, not at all. I was just trying to calm down a little.”
Mrs. Stengal made a clucking noise, “Now Drew, we are having slumber party girl talk, so please don’t call me maam or Mrs. Stengal. When we are together like this, you should call me Katey.”
I giggled and said, “Okay Katie! That’s really nice. Katey. I like that.” I took another gulp of wine. This would be my third glass and about triple my usual indulgence.
It was a good thing that I’d already swallowed the wine when she asked, “So calm down from what?” Otherwise I would have choked.
I frowned and gave her a dark look, “You know.” But I couldn’t be sincerely angry with her for teasing me, and she knew I couldn’t, too.
She grinned and put her arm around me again as she said, “Okay, Ill say it. We were getting pretty excited talking about your private moments. But that happens with girl talk doesn’t it?”
I swallowed my wine and sat the glass back on the table and she did the same. “I guess,” I answered leaning back against her arm, “Although I never got that excited about girl talk before, but maybe it’s because I have never told anyone those things.” I looked into her eyes, “Maybe you should share something with me?”
Mrs. Stengal smiled shyly, “Oh I masturbate now and then. I used to do it more often but I haven’t had too much to stimulate me lately, at least not until tonight. But I can guarantee I’m going to do it tonight. Just the thought of your young body rubbing against a pillow and that sweet juice oozing out of your sweet pussy…” she shivered, and gave me a look that communicated a powerful re-arousal, then shook her head. “I’m sorry to be so frank, Drew, but it’s been so long since I was so turned on by anyone. But I am sorry…”
I hadn’t really reacted, although my lips may have parted some, mostly her dirty talk went right past my brain and straight down to my groin. I was instantly as aroused as I was before and then some. My heart was pounding again, I felt like I needed to pant to get enough oxygen, and her perfume was making me dizzy with desire again. Did she call my pussy and my wetness sweet? The thought made me press my thighs together in a rush of pleasure that I was sure was dampening my panties. I fervently hoped the blue jean shorts would hide such an obvious indicator of sexual arousal.
I thought a moment, and then realized that she was waiting for me to respond to her apology. I figured she wanted some reassurance from me, for what we were doing was dangerous to us if anyone found out. I looked into her concerned blue eyes, “Normally, like on a date, I tend to get scared and nervous when necking with a boy, and getting aroused seems even more dangerous than necking. I don’t feel that at all with you. I trust you, and our talking like this is secret. And having a beautiful woman acting attracted to me is a real turn on. In fact, just a few minutes ago, I was even hoping you were going to kiss me.”
She took a deep breath, which did wonderful things to her the top of her nightie – it really looked like her breasts were about to pop out. She stroked her hands down her sides and said, “Really?” I nodded and she gave me a rueful smile, “Sorry for the little panic there…”
“I understand, Katey, I really do. It was like I was reading your mind about how this could be seen by others; and just think about my situation for a minute, will you? My parents are REALLY uptight. Can you imagine what would happen if they knew I was wondering what it would be like to kiss a woman? I’d probably be regretfully burned at the stake, and they’d be sure they were doing the right thing!”
“Are you attracted to girls, Drew?” she slowly eased her arm around me and casually resumed the confidence that made her the woman I knew. She took a lingering look at my breasts, and then slowly raised her eyes to mine. There was something smoky and hot in her blue-eyed gaze.
“Not that I know of, at least never before.” I answered still being annoyingly direct and truthful except for my thing with Marcie, “I don’t know how far it goes with you, really. I just wanted you to kiss me, and you know, I have always liked you a lot.”
She kissed me, and it was sure no peck. Her perfume, her blue eyes, her warmth all swept me away as her lips molded around mine and gave me the softest and sweetest French kiss that I’d ever had. It didn’t last long but it was wonderful, and I felt it down to my toes, and that kiss hit every spot in between. “Like that?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” I breathed between her lips, “that was really nice. Are you attracted to girls, Katey?”
She pulled back a little and gave me a little smile. “I have made love with a few women before back when I was in high school and college, but not since my divorce. I have no sex with anyone but my hand since then. I still think of it once and a while, but I have to admit, I have thought about you that way many times for a long time. So yes. I am very attracted to girls, and I am very attracted to you.” Her eyes swept over me and lingered for a moment on my thighs and hips. I know I got even wetter at that moment.
“And now I’m thinking about you that way, Katey, especially when you kiss me.” I had intended that for a hint, because things were going too fast for me to think about what her look at my body had just told me.
So she kissed me again, and again. I could have gone on like that for quite a while without complaint, but she stopped and asked, “I was serious about being so hot about you, Drew. Do you feel that way about me?”
I was breathing heavily enough for that to be an answer, but I said, “Yes, Katey. I’ve never let myself get this excited with another person before. Could we do some more kissing? I really like that.”
She kissed me again, and this time it didn’t stop. We kissed and kissed, exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues, and I got more and more excited. It was the most fabulous experience. I put my arms around her neck and we held each other close, and I was intensely aware of her larger breasts pressed against mine. I felt excited to the bursting point but wasn’t sure how to burst, then I slowly realized that I was almost excited enough to orgasm, that all she would have to do is touch me a moment. Did I really want her to do that? Could I really face what that might mean about myself?
She kept on kissing me, and finally she put a hand on my thigh and gave me a little squeeze, “Drew, honey,” she said, pulling back from me, “We’re going to have to stop now.” I know my face must of showed disappointment because she added, “I didn’t mean to start this, I guess it just happened, but what if my daughter woke up and saw us?”
“Of course, Katey, I don’t want to cause you a problem.” But I was crushed. I knew it was better to stop, but something in my loins desperately didn’t want to stop.
She gave me a friendly smile, “Marcie is going to spend next weekend with her father, the whole weekend. I guess you know she does that once a month.” She waited for my nod then continued, “I could call your mother, say on Tuesday, and invite you over to spend the weekend with Marcie, and your parents wouldn’t suspect a thing. Would you like me to do that? You could come over on Friday evening and go back Sunday around noon.”
I didn’t have to think about it. “Yes, Katey, that would be wonderful. And it will be our secret!” I looked at her thoughtfully, and because of the blossoming relationship between us, I didn’t want us to have any secrets at all between us, and I had one more darker secret to tell – the secret of the best thing in my sex life. “Katey, I have to tell you the truth about something, and I hope it doesn’t upset you or make you mad at me.”
She gave me a charming smile; ” I don’t think anything you tell me will make me mad at you, Drew. But go ahead and take a shot.”
I sighed, “I have had sex with another person three times, and it was really good sex for me. The other person is Marcie.”
“My Marcie?” Katey certainly did look surprised but not horrified or angry at least.
“Don’t worry, Katey, she isn’t gay. In fact she doesn’t even know I’ve had sex with her.”
Katey gave me a dubious look, “In the first place, I don’t mind at all. It’s perfectly natural for girls to experiment with each other, and you know I think sex between females is lovely. But Marcie not knowing you had sex with her? How is such a thing possible?”
I settled back a little to tell the tale, although Katey hadn’t moved and still had her arm around me. “Remember how we three went camping early last summer? You had one tent to yourself and we had a smaller one where we shared a sleeping bag?” I glanced down at Katey’s cleavage, for some reason, blinked and brought my eyes back up. “We went wading in that creek and we got our pants wet, so that night we hung our pants and underwear out to dry, and we slept commando, as it were, together in the sleeping bag. Like spoons, only I was the naughty spoon – the one in the rear.”
Katey smiled and I knew she was looking at the image in her mind, “Do please go on,” she murmured in a throaty voice and looking more at my body than my face.
I shrugged, “I guess the closeness and warmth or whatever made me really horny, so I eased my left leg over her and pressed my groin against her bottom. You know how soundly she sleeps, and well, I started to move against her, trying to be real gentle and slow, you know? And she didn’t so much as twitch, so I rubbed and rubbed against her until I had an orgasm, just like with a pillow, only it was warmer and sexier. Since then, she always goes to bed without panties, so I’ve taken advantage of her twice more since then.” I felt myself blush, knowing how awful I sounded.
Surprisingly, Katey looked quite amused, “And she never moves at all?”
If anything my blush deepened, “Well, just a little, kind of like cuddling in her sleep is all. She pushes her bottom against me a little sometimes…”
Katey actually giggled, “Tell me Drew, do you think I wear evening dresses every night?”
I shrugged, truly bewildered now, “Yeah, I guess I thought that. I always see you that way. But what has…”
Katey gave me a quick kiss, “No, sweetie, I only wear evening gowns for you. Marcie thinks it’s a really funny joke. And I know for a fact that Marcie wears panties in bed every night. I go to check on her at night sometimes. She has usually kicked the covers off and the light from the hallway gives me a good look, and she is always wearing panties, but maybe she does take them off when you come over. You always share her bed right?”
“Well of course, she only has the one bed in her room,” I said, suddenly feeling na‹ve and realizing with horror that Marcie had actually been awake every time.
“And Marcie is an only child who always sleeps alone, so she has no cuddling in her sleep instincts,” Katey went on in a kindly but relentless voice, “And believe me, she doesn’t sleep THAT soundly. Since she goes to bed especially early when you are here and sleeps without her panties when you are over, don’t you think it likely that Marcie likes what you do to her?” Katey smiled in a thoughtful way, “Hmm, I’m willing to bet that she likes it very much, Drew.”
I was blushing again, and feeling really stupid, but like a dope, I had to ask, “You really think so? Are you sure? And you don’t mind?”
Katey gave me the loveliest smile, “Of course I’m sure, sweet Drew. You just go on up there and give her a good fucking, and when you’re done, you just tell her in a quiet whisper, ‘Marcie would you like to do me now?’ I’ll bet you anything she is just hoping for the chance to fuck you back.” She sighed wistfully and put her hand on my breast and gave me a gentle squeeze, “I would dearly love to watch the two of you – My God, what a sexy image that presents! But you can tell me all about it next weekend.”
Her hand was still on my breast and she tweaked my nipple between the base of her fingers, making it hard and giving me a thrill that shot down to my clitoris. Then she gave me a long sexy kiss, still massaging my lucky right breast. In a husky voice she murmured, “Go on now, Drew. You go have some fun, and don’t forget to tell me about every detail next weekend. Okay?”
I reached up and put my hand on her right breast, not believing I was doing such an impulsive thing, I felt her breast up with my hand and whispered, “I don’t know if I can tear myself away from you Katey.” And this time I initiated the kiss, and we both kept each other’s hands on our breasts.
“Please go on,” she whispered back, “I’m dying to make myself come, and I plan to do that right away, thinking about what you and Marcie will be doing upstairs.”
“Oooo,” I gave a plaintive little moan, “Couldn’t I just watch you do that first?”
“You’ll see that and much more next weekend, sweet Drew.” She promised me seriously, “But please go and have fun now. Really, enjoy it, and let Marcie enjoy it, too.”
I got up on shaky legs and not from the wine. I walked out of the room without looking back, before I could reduce myself to begging – that is, more begging. Walking up the stairs, I thought of when I had asked Marcie about why she had started sleeping without panties, and she’d said something about the sense of freedom giving her sweet dreams. That meant something different now that I realized the true context. On one level, I was horrified that my friend had known that I was taking advantage of her, but on a deeper level, I was terrifically excited by her lying there, letting me fuck her, and knowing that she liked it.
I opened the door to her room, and sure enough, the light from the hallway clearly illuminated Marcie sprawled on her bed, her blond hair hiding her face as she slept on her tummy. Just as clearly I could see the pale globes of her bikini pale bottom, naked with her pussy somewhat exposed from the rear. I studied her shapely, tanned legs, and the light-brown furred cleft under her bottom. She was also wearing a tee-shirt that had ridden halfway up her back. She looked very sexy and incredibly inviting.
I closed the door behind me as I entered the room and noticed how brightly the moonlight from the window illuminated the bed. I could still see Marcie clearly even before my eyes had started to adjust to the darkness. I peeled off my shorts and dampened panties and slipped my tee-shirt over my head, dropping them on the floor as I climbed into bed. As gently as I could, I eased Marcie’s tee-shirt over her head and arms. I know it woke her up, but she pretended to sigh and collapse back down on her tummy with minimum movement.
I’d never stripped her before and I knew she must have been wondering about it, unless she had really slipped back into sleep. I supposed that was possible, but as I lied down, partly on top of her, my naked body snuggling to her naked back, I heard her breath catch ever so briefly when my naked nipples touched her. I eased my left leg over her legs and pressed my groin against the smooth warm flesh of her buttocks, pressed my breasts to her back and kissed her on the back of the neck. I began fucking motions with my hips, slowly and gently, grinding my pussy against her ass. I was already very aroused of course, and very wet, quickly lubricating the silky flesh of her firm bottom.
As I began to fuck against her more firmly, I showered her neck and shoulders with kisses. Her bottom squirmed a bit against me, and I mounted her, straddling her bottom between my thighs and fucking into the center of her bottom the way a man would mount a woman from the rear. I straightened my back, spread my legs and used my hands to spread her cheeks so that my pussy was pushing against her asshole and the base of her cunt. I could feel the juice from my pussy making her asshole slick and wet. As I came, my mind seemed to float away on some foam crusted wave that swept through me. I let Marcie hear me softly moan at my extreme pleasure.
Slowly I collapsed forward just enough so my nipples dragged across her back and I whispered, “I just love fucking you, Marcie.”
In a clearly enunciated whisper, she answered, “If you only knew how much I love it when you do that.”
“So fuck me back,” I whispered kissing the back of her neck again, “Take me any way you like.” I felt so close to her at that moment and so grateful to her that I took a serious risk and added, “I’ll do anything you want me to just to make you feel good.” I didn’t think I was ready to go down on another girl yet, but if that was what she asked from me, I would do it and do my best. It’s honestly not that I would mind getting a little stinky faced – that doesn’t gross me out. I guess I was most worried that I might do it and like it too much. I hadn’t really thought through the possibility that I certainly seemed to be bisexual, and maybe lesbian. I was certainly thinking about it now, and struggling to concentrate on lust instead of panic.
As I rolled off of her, she turned toward me. She eased her body on top of mine, and when I felt her knee nudging between my thighs, I spread my legs for her. She settled on me so her breasts were touching mine and I could feel her pussy pressing my hip and her thigh pressing against my pussy. She raised her self just enough so our breasts were barely touching in an incredibly titillating way and began to rock her hips slowly, massaging her pussy against my upper thigh and hip.
She stayed that way, gently and slowly fucking herself against me, her thigh pressing sweetly against my own groin, and she whispered, “Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said, and if you ever say it again, I WILL ask you to eat my pussy.” With that her face, which hovered close over mine, sank until our lips barely touched, her breasts pressing more firmly against mine. “Drew, this feels so good,” she whispered and kissed me softly. I opened my lips and she flicked at my tongue with hers. She moaned pressing herself harder against my hip, and I wrapped my left leg around her, pulling her thigh harder against my own pussy.
Her thigh was getting deliciously slippery from my wetness, and my hip was getting slippery from hers. The smells from our pussies seemed to fill the air with an exotic perfume. We stopped kissing as we both began to pant and squirm against each other, with Marcie giving tiny almost inaudible grunts with her thrusts. I’m not sure who started to come first, but we locked tighter together and kept thrusting, both of us trying to keep our moaning quiet. I don’t know why it made a difference, but there was something so powerful about Marcie and I having sex together, instead of just me coming by myself, that made it the most intense orgasm I had ever had, and it seemed to go on and on forever. Afterwards we still lay curled up and wrapped around each other, kissing and cuddling each other oh so sweetly. I felt like I was in Heaven, even though there was a little celestial sweat between us. Honest sex sweat felt good, too.
“Wow,” I whispered finally. Marcie was casually kissing my breasts and giving little sucks on my nipples, “Now I know why people want to have sex so much. That was just fantastic!”
“I think my pussy is too sore to do any more fucking again tonight,” murmured Marcie, “but I am still pretty horny. Are you?”
“Well your kissing my breasts is sorta keeping me horny,” I giggled. “But I’m a little sore too. Maybe we should just go to sleep.” I added reasonably, “We can always spend the night together again soon.” I thought a moment and had to ask, “Marcie, you have had sex with three different boys, at least that you’ve told me about. Does having sex with me change how you feel about that?”
She didn’t answer for several moments, and when she did, I could tell she was seriously thinking about it, “I’m not sure. I mean, I loved having sex with boys even though they didn’t seem real good at it, but I am sure there are men who are good at sex and maybe even boys who are.” She paused again, “I think I just had more fun with you than all those times though, so I don’t know. Do you think I should give up boys?”
“Heavens no!” I answered, definitely not prepared to start making commitments with Marcie, her mom or anyone yet. “I mean, you should do what you want and learn who you are. I was just curious, that’s all. Although I definitely want us to do this some more!” I paused a minute as we both thought things over for a minute. “So Marcie? How many more times were you going to let me fuck you without telling me you were awake?”
“Huh?” Marcie sounded genuinely surprised, “I just figured that it was your fantasy, and I was just pretending to go along by faking being asleep. I can’t believe you really thought I was asleep!” She gave each of my nipples a brief kiss and added, “But to answer your question, it was going to be tonight. You barely beat me to it, in fact. I was just about to roll over and ask you if we couldn’t try something a little more mutual.”
“I’m just glad things worked out so wonderfully,” I murmured sleepily. For an answer, Marcie snuggled against my breasts and went to sleep.