My name is Trish, and my life changed by pure coincidence. A single friend of mine was showing me this website she was using to help find people for her to “hook up” with. I wasn’t really interested because I’m happily married and have been for twenty years, but it was great hearing her get excited about it. She just gave me a quick overview of the site, punched in some search criteria and let me look at the results.
One wrong click of the mouse would be the incident that started this all rolling.
Instead of checking that she was searching for a man, she checked for a woman. A simple little mistake made in the rush of things, but what came up on screen amazed me. A profile with a picture of someone I knew came up. I hadn’t seen her since before I was married, so she looked older, but it was definitely her.
My friend restarted the search and showed me some of the guys she was emailing, but my mind stayed on that picture, even as I left for home.
Her name was Karen. She had been me and my husband’s neighbor early in our marriage. The reason seeing her was such a big deal was because, earlier in our relationship, I asked my husband, Mike, what his greatest fantasy was and he said it was to have a threesome with me and Karen. I understood that most guys fantasize about threesomes. I was prepared to hear it. But I was not at all willing to allow Karen into the bed.
The reasons for not participating in a threesome are obvious. No woman really wants to share her man. And I had no desire to be near another naked woman. But my biggest concern was Karen herself. She was absolutely gorgeous. She was tall, thin, and firm, with huge, perfect breasts and an amazing, taut ass. She had beauty and confidence, and even if I hadn’t been jealous of her for those things, I still wouldn’t have let my husband fuck her out of fear that he’d leave me for her. She was that good-looking.
The threesome fantasy never happened with Karen, or any woman. I always remained open to it, because I knew Mike, my husband, would very much appreciate it and I love making him happy. But it just never really came up again, at least not in any serious discussion. Recently, however, with Mike’s 44th birthday coming up, I wanted to get him something really special, and I had been very loosely toying with the idea of maybe setting up a special erotic night. I hadn’t really considered the threesome, I admit, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I was considering it for the wrong reasons, though. See, when I saw that picture of Karen on the website, though she still looked very much like Karen, she wasn’t the Karen from 10 or 15 years ago. She had gained some weight with her age, and I was elated to find this out when I was, thanks to an ongoing diet and exercise regimen, at my best weight since early high school. The tables had turned–now I had the better body.
Though my husband wisely didn’t bring Karen up again over the years, his buddies would often make some remark about her, remembering how hot she was and drooling over the time they seen her jogging by the window of Mike’s old place in a two-sizes-too-small t-shirt and no bra. Through no fault of my husband, I had been tormented by this sexy woman for over a decade, but now everything had changed.
When I got home, I went right to the computer. I set up a bogus account so I could view the profiles, then did a search to find Karen. I wanted to see more info just to make sure it was her and not some amazing look alike, and to see more pictures of her new body.
It was her, and though she only had the one picture, it was enough to allow me to confirm that she’d put on enough pounds to be a good deal thicker than me. She wasn’t obese–I wouldn’t have gotten pleasure from seeing her totally destroyed like that because, despite my concerns about her, she was a nice person whenever we had casually talked–but she was not at all what she used to be.
She was also single. Not even divorced. And she was looking for a guy or a couple. Even made a point of stating that she was not into girl-on-girl stuff, so we were on the same page as far as that was concerned.
And suddenly I had the perfect birthday gift for my husband.
I could give him that threesome after all. Technically, he said he wanted to be with me and Karen. It wasn’t my fault if Karen wasn’t 26 anymore. And when he got the two of us together, he’d know he had ended up with the better girl. He’d get his wish, and I’d not only get credit for being the amazing wife that gave it to him, but I’d also be the sexiest one in the room. It was perfect.
I emailed Karen through the site and after an initial inquiry to which she eventually responded, I told her who I was. She remembered me and we actually had a great time chatting about the old neighborhood and catching up. We almost lost track of the whole reason I’d initially emailed her. When I told her what I wanted to do for Mike’s birthday, she was instantly excited about the idea. She’d never had a threesome herself, and she said she couldn’t think of a more comfortable couple to have her first with. She said she’d do it.
Since neither of us had done anything like this before, I wasn’t really sure about the best way to go about it. On one hand, I considered pretending to run into Karen at the grocery store, then inviting her over for dinner and drinks and letting the fantasy grow from there. But another possibility was to just blow Mike right out of the water when he came home from work by having Karen and me sitting naked or in lingerie on the bed waiting for him. Mike had been getting in pretty good shape lately, too, so I knew his heart could take it. I decided to go with the blow-out way just because it would be easier to pull off and so much more of a surprise. Plus, by doing it quick like that, it would be harder for me to back out all of the sudden, which I had to admit was a possibility.
I set things up for Karen to come to our house on a Friday, Mike’s birthday. Mike said he was going to try to get home early so he could have a little more time to relax. For two weeks I’d been dropping subtle hints and even “accidentally” leaving clues around for him to find that would make him think he was getting a big surprise party. I wanted to really throw him off.
Even though I was excited to be doing this and I was confident to be sharing Mike with this bigger version of Karen, I was still nervous as I waited for her early that evening. I was just an hour or so away from letting another naked woman in my bed. My husband of twenty years was going to fuck her and lick her and she was going to suck him. It was hot and exciting, but it was also frightening.
When Karen at last showed up, my nerves continued to grow. I’d been exaggerating that picture of her in mind to the point where I’d convinced myself she was unattractive. But seeing her in person I found that she was just a real woman. Sure, she wasn’t the thin, tight-bodied beauty she used to be, but she wasn’t ugly or unappealing. She actually looked quite nice, having done up her hair just for this occasion. I admit I was having second thoughts, but quickly brushed them away. I was still in better shape, I told myself. I’d still look so much better naked.
We went inside and had a drink to help calm the nerves as we chatted more about the past, eventually bringing the conversation to the evening that awaited us. Karen admitted she was really nervous, too, but that she’d been looking forward to this greatly since the day I’d suggested it. Time flew, and I knew Mike would probably be getting home soon. He was supposed to call me when he left work, but he often forgot to do that when I asked, and I knew they wouldn’t make him stay till 5 on his birthday. I suggested we get ready. We took the pitcher of margaritas we’d been sipping and went to the bedroom.
We were still talking and even joking like old friends as we began to undress. I think the talking, in addition to the margaritas, helped us a lot. I was so nervous I was shaking and I even felt a little cold sweat break out. This was really going to happen. I knew this night was really going to focus on Mike, and Karen was his gift, but this was still a very big deal for me, too.
As I undressed, I took glimpses at Karen to make myself more comfortable seeing her this way, and to satisfy my curiosity. She took off her shoes, socks, and then her pants, revealing a long, white pair of legs that scarcely resembled the tight, tan thighs that had jogged past my apartment so long ago. But Karen’s legs back then were trophy-caliber; to compare her current legs to them wasn’t really fair. All in all, for a woman with some extra pounds and in her 40s, I had to say her legs actually looked nice.
But they still weren’t as good as mine.
Karen turned around to stash her clothes in the closet, giving me a look at her butt framed in a g-string. It was easily twice if not three times the size of young Karen’s dime-bouncing ass, and no longer bronzed by the sun, but there was something hypnotizing about her big, white cheeks. The g-string actually disappeared in her crack, and yet her ass wasn’t huge or flabby or all covered in cellulite. My ass was smaller, tighter, and a little tanner, but I honestly couldn’t imagine that a guy would actually be disappointed if he ended up with Karen’s rear in his hands.
When Karen next took off her shirt and stood there in just her underwear, I saw that my original estimate of how much weight she’d put on was a little high. Though she was much bigger than she had been in her tiny years, and she was definitely bigger than me now, it wasn’t like she had rolls of skin hanging down or anything. It was more like she’d just filled out. She’d always had nice hips, and even now, though her mid-section had gotten bigger, her hips were apparent and made her overall frame look very nice. Her breasts, which I last remembered as being firm Cs, actually looked bigger because of the new pounds. The extra padding didn’t, as I had surmised from her profile photo, make her look like a less attractive version of Karen–she just looked like a different kind of attractive. And her face, though sporting softer curves of its own, was still beautiful. And all the fat in the world can’t take away the beauty from a woman’s eyes.
I was suddenly very self-conscious. I was thinner, in better shape, and she didn’t look like she’d tanned in ten years. I knew I had a better body than this. Or did I?
And then Karen took off her bra. The breasts that spilled out literally spilled out. They were no longer the firm specimens that bounced freely without the need of support. But at the same time they were, I must say, magnificent. They were white with pale nipples and areola that blended almost seamlessly with the rest of her skin. Still full, they sagged, but didn’t droop, if that makes any sense.
A young woman’s breasts can seem to defy gravity, making them look lighter than air. I knew this because I used to have a pretty decent pair of firm Cs myself. But looking at Karen’s breasts, I found a new appreciation for the sense of weight I got from seeing them. Throughout my years, in locker rooms and such, I’d seen plenty of nice breasts that could have made the pages of Playboy, and Karen’s no longer would make the cut. But I found myself believing that they were the most attractive boobs I’d ever seen.
I caught myself staring at the same time Karen caught me. I had no choice but to break the tension with a compliment, which came to me readily.
“You really have a remarkable body,” I said.
She blushed. “I don’t know. It isn’t what it used to be.”
“No, I think it’s better. You were too bony back then. But now you have a good shape to you. You look like a real woman. I think you’re beautiful.” These weren’t empty compliments. I was telling the total truth.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing again. “You look really great, too. I must have put on what you lost,” she joked nervously.
That wasn’t quite accurate; while I was smaller and tighter than Karen now, that was all relative. I was still a 42 year old woman who had struggled with my weight for most of my life. On average terms, nobody would call me thin. I still had a little extra padding myself–just less than Karen. My breasts had been small Cs, and though they held up pretty good on their own and they might have at least gotten a three or four second consideration to go in Playboy before being rejected, they still didn’t seem as eye catching as Karen’s. I had a great body, and I knew it. I had more leering eyes on me in the past few months than in the rest of my life combined. But I was a 40-something mother and wife, not a model.
I thanked Karen for her compliment, then told her about how I’d been dieting and exercising a lot this year, but while I told her how proud I was of the results, I found myself still envying Karen’s body. She was a whole new person, but from her full blonde hair to her long legs, she was still sexy.
Trying to get past my moment of insecurity, I pulled off my panties and jumped onto the bed, trying to take a position that would hide my more private areas. I crossed my legs and my arms, becoming very closed off. And then I watched Karen–so precious as her hands trembled while she did it–take off her panties and join me, fully naked on the bed. This time I got caught with my jaw hanging open.
“My God,” I said, “That looks so great.” I didn’t want to say the word, but my eyes told Karen I was talking about her bush. “I’ve kept mine bare or close to it for Mike for probably ten years. I’ve been doing it for so long I actually learned to just prefer it this way. But that…is really nice.”
And it was. Karen’s bush wasn’t a 70’s power muff. She obviously took care in tending to it, but it was full and inviting and such a light blonde it looked more like vanilla. She had trimmed it into a wide, thick rectangular strip, hiding her pussy and extending up above it for a good couple inches. While I knew Mike loved my pussy best when it was completely bald, somehow I knew diving into that muff would drive him wild.
“Yeah,” Karen giggled bashfully. “It’s really soft, too.”
It seemed to be an invitation, but I was too nervous to go it alone without the words being said. I paid Karen’s bush another compliment to let her know I’d accept if she asked, and to my delight she did.
“Do you want to touch–”
“Yeah,” I said too quickly, before she had even finished her sentence. I tried to control myself by going slow. I reached into her lap and touched my fingers to her thick, vanilla pubes. She was right–she was soft! It was almost like touching the down of a bird. I was so surprised and entranced that I began petting the warm hair, forgetting for a moment about how personal that space was.
Everything was silent in the room for a few seconds until I realized I’d been petting Karen for about half a minute. Then I pulled back, embarrassed, and we both broke the tension with a giggle and reached for our margaritas. We sipped in silence, then sat in more silence after setting our glasses down. I looked at the clock just for something to do. Mike would be home any second, I thought.
To kill time and break the silence, I decided to ask questions involving Mike.
“So have you thought about what you want to do tonight…with Mike?”
“I don’t know,” she laughed nervously. “I mean it’s his birthday, right? I’m excited though. I always did think he was pretty cute. But I never tried anything!” she joked.
I laughed with her, but I laughed because I knew she was just being nice. Mike was cute, but back then Karen had her pick of much hotter guys.
“I guess I thought I would suck him first,” she said. “That would be okay, right?”
“He’d love it,” I said. “Just remember he’s going to be really excited, so don’t go too fast or anything or you’ll get a mouthful.”
We both laughed.
“Is that what he likes? To cum in your mouth? Cause I know a lot of guys like to give facials.”
“I usually just swallow him,” I said. “I don’t like having to clean up if it gets on my face or hair or something. But I’m sure he’d like to give a facial. Would you…do that?”
She nodded. “I actually like it. Swallowing is great, and I think guys have better orgasms if you’re sucking them and swallowing when they cum instead of just jerking them off, but I really like feeling it on me.”
“Yeah. I love it when they cum on my face, or breasts. The bigger the mess the better. I think it’s hot. Especially when you can see them watching it get on you. The expression on his face, you know? But you’re going to be here, too, and if you don’t want it on you or a mess or anything, swallowing is great, too. I have no problem at all swallowing.”
“No, no,” I said. “You do whatever. Whatever makes him happy. I think he’d really like to cum on your face, since, you know, I never do it. You want me to get you a towel?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she declined politely. And that left me wondering what she was going to do once the mess was all over her. And I got very hot thinking about it.
And as I thought about it, I stared at Karen’s beautiful, milky boobs. I broke out of my trance when I saw her look down at herself and give another nervous giggle when she saw what I was staring at.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just think they’re really nice. They’re so full and…real. I admit, back when you lived next to us, I thought they might have been fake. I thought they were too perfect. But now they’re even better because they’re still perfect and I know they’re real.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I always thought they were kind of weird.”
“Because my nipples are the same color! You can’t even tell where my areola starts.”
“Yeah you can,” I said, wanting to make her feel better. I leaned forward and pointed to where it looked like her areola began.
“No,” she said. “People always think its right there, but its really back here.” She pushed her finger on a spot further up her breast to indicate. “You can’t see it very well, but you can feel it. Here–”
Karen then took my hand and brought it to her breast, directing my finger to the space and rubbing back and forth. I could indeed tell that the change from the smooth breast to the more textured areola was as subtle as possible to the touch, and virtually invisible to the eye. Karen took her hand off mine to let me continue to rub her areola in exploration, but I couldn’t stop myself. Before I knew it, I had all the tips of my fingers on her breast, feeling her and testing her firmness. I drew them in from her breast up to her nipple, which grew very erect right away.
And it didn’t end there. Something just came over me. Suddenly not only could I not stop feeling her breast, I grew bolder. I was so impressed with her that I wanted to touch more of her, and so I palmed her tit and gently squeezed, then lifted it, feeling the weight. I rubbed my thumb back and forth over the hard nipple, making it harder and delighting in the feel of it. My own nipples grew warm and erect.
“They’re really nice,” I said softly, wanting to explain why I was still touching her, but at this point not caring if she understood or not.
Karen lifted her other breast, and I saw that as an invitation to take it in my other hand. I scooted closer to her and took both her breasts in my hands, softly squeezing and lifting and teasing them. I wasn’t trying to make her feel good. I was doing this for my own enjoyment, and with each passing second, I was more and more amazed at just how much enjoyment I was getting.
“So are yours,” Karen said just above a whisper. “Can I…”
And then Karen touched my breasts delicately, timidly. She ran circles around my hard nipples with her fingers, then did to me as I did to her, feeling my weight in her palms, squeezing and massaging.
I was already hot touching Karen’s breasts, so this added sensation was quick to put me on a whole new level. It wasn’t but a minute after she first put her hands on me that I let in a rather hearty gasp, then exhaled unevenly due to my nerves.
“I guess we should be comfortable touching each other if we’re going to do this,” Karen said light-heartedly, no doubt trying to cover what we both knew but wouldn’t admit was really happening.
Except I didn’t know what was happening. What was this? I was enjoying touching her, but I hadn’t even considered where that might lead. It had never been an option I was willing to consider. Even now, I had no idea what would or even could happen next.
“What about kissing?” Karen asked.
“Kissing. We never really talked about it. Some people think that’s too personal. Did you want to kiss me…I mean, want him to kiss me?”
The mistake had certainly been exactly that–a mistake. But it was also obvious. I caught the slip, and I knew Karen knew that. So it was definitely on both of our minds when I answered.
“Yeah, you can kiss him.”
“Would he like this?” she asked next. “What we’re doing? Would he want to watch us…play with each other?”
Now this had been pretty clear from the beginning. I wasn’t going to be bi in this threesome, and Karen had said she wasn’t into that either. But what we were doing, fondling each other’s breasts, didn’t seem bi. Just very personal. And I knew Mike would have a much better experience if Karen and I would touch each other now and then. He’d probably want us both to suck him at the same time even, so our lips and even tongues might touch. As far as us doing anything together without him, however, was another story.
“He’d love it,” I said. “But…how far would you want to go?”
That wasn’t the question I wanted to ask. It left too many things open. Things I had always been unwilling to do. Fortunately Karen didn’t answer, as if she read my mistake and knew I regretting having asked it. We both looked at each other, understanding though still confused, still massaging each other’s breasts.
I’m not sure who moved in first, but it was then that we kissed. It was soft and slow, starting with just the lips but moving onto tongues rather suddenly. It lasted long, too, because neither of us, I could tell, wanted it to end.
When we finally pulled apart, I watched Karen, blushing, lick my taste off of her moist lips and give a bashful smile.
“Should we do that?”
We kissed again, slowly and softly. Only this one lasted longer, and our tongues probed deeper. I was still kissing her when I slid my hands off her breast and around her sides to her back, pulling her gently toward me. Our kiss grew in intensity with every inch closer we came to each other, and then Karen had her hands on my back, and our mouths were fully together. We were making out. The only sound in the room was our heavy breathing.
It was hard to concentrate. I kept telling myself to pull away and say something, anything, just to end this moment. But my body wouldn’t respond and it felt so good. We leaned toward each other and even scooted closer until our knees touched and we could scoot no further, but that wasn’t enough. I rose up on my knees, and Karen must have thought to do it at the same time because she didn’t follow my lead–she was right up with me. Our bodies came together and we fully embraced, and the touch of her soft, warm skin against mine in the cool air of the room was too much to bear…for both of us. We broke the kiss and panted into each other’s ear, still holding one another.
A million thoughts running.
The electricity pulsing through my body as I reveled in Karen’s naked touch seemed to take on a life of its own. For a while we weren’t moving, but I was responding as if we were all over each other. My skin tingled and buzzed with delight. I felt a warm throbbing between my legs. I held Karen tighter. My breath caught in my throat, I gasped, but then I couldn’t hear her breath anymore, and that scared me. Had I done all this? Had I forced myself on her, and was she just trying not to make me feel bad about it, letting me down as slowly and easily as possible?
For a moment I believed that, and I should have let her go, but I didn’t. She felt too good. Instead I whispered into her ear with a voice so shaky I didn’t even recognize it as my own.
There was a sharp intake of breath right after I spoke–hers, not mine–as if I had touched a very sensitive nerve. And then Karen slipped her hand down the small of my back, around the outside curve of my ass, down, and then under, until her fingers found the soft, soaking wet spot between my thighs.
This was her denying my apology. It was also an invitation to which my body responded before my mind could even register.
I threw myself back at least as much as she pushed me back. I moaned in spite of wanting to be as quiet as possible, and she lowered herself, attacking. She grabbed my hips as I spread my legs. I caught myself with my arms before going fully on my back, partly because I wanted to see this, and partly because I didn’t want to wait the half-second it would’ve taken to get myself off my knees and laying down.
Her tongue found my clit as if it had followed a map, and I moaned and gasped and panted. The physical sensation was to die for, but even better than that was the newness of it all, the taboo feeling, the knowledge that I was not supposed to be doing this, and the anticipation of whatever was yet to come. I hated thinking it even then, but I was sure that I had never been eaten to such pleasure before.
Karen licked and nibbled me with care, and yet she wasn’t timid about it either. That made it all the more surprising when she came up to me, face to face and breathing heavily, a wild but concerned look in her eyes.
“Should we be doing this?”
I responded by throwing my tongue between her wet lips, then quickly sliding down below her while guiding her over me. I flipped my legs out from under myself as I laid back and moved her up. Her big, milky breasts swung into my face, and I kissed at them with a wide open mouth. They bounced against me, but then I caught one, sucked it furiously, but I didn’t have the nipple, so I lapped at her skin until I found it, hard and satisfying, but not in a way that made me at all satiated.
My mind was firmly on getting to Karen’s crotch, but for a while I couldn’t tear myself away from those soft, pillowy breasts. I’d always understood why women liked to have theirs sucked because I, myself, enjoyed the feeling. But I’d never comprehended the obsession men had with sucking boobs. I always questioned what was in it for them, other than maybe the knowledge of making the woman feel good. But now I understood completely, even if I still didn’t know enough to explain it. It just felt right, and I loved it.
I locked onto one of Karen’s breasts with my lips, then flipped and flicked my tongue over her hard nipple. I slobbered all over her chest. I felt her reaching between our bodies with one hand and palming one of my breasts, then toying with my nipple. Sparks flew, making me shudder. I pulled her down onto me, guiding her by her hips, until her soft bush and the hot flesh around it rubbed against my tummy.
I thought I would’ve enjoyed that for a while, but all it did was set me off. Suddenly I needed to have my mouth on Karen’s pussy, and I grabbed her by her generously proportioned, beautiful ass and pushed her up until her crotch was over me, smelling strongly of her arousal and almost dripping wet. I licked and sucked at her intensely. She pushed herself against me in return, then moved back and forth, humping my face. She tasted sweet, but it wasn’t the taste I was after. It wasn’t even the feeling of the soft folds of her delicate flesh against my lips and tongue. It was the act itself. Moaning, I consumed her.
Karen continued to hump my face as I probed her with my tongue, until eventually we found a nice rhythm that really got her groaning. She was rubbing back and forth, grinding her clit against my nose, and each time she did it she moaned again, each one louder than before, and followed by a deeper gasp. Then, suddenly, she tried to get off me, but I held her firmly by the ass; hearing her getting off on my face was not something I wanted to end.
“Trish,” she said, panicked. “Trish, Trish!”
Minutes earlier I would’ve assumed she wanted me to stop, that she was having second thoughts and that everything had scared her. But when she said my name, something imperceptible about the way she said it told a completely different story. I knew what she needed, and suddenly I needed it, too.
I let her off me, but as soon as I did we were together again, kissing again, but more passionately than ever. We held each other, fused our bodies, pressing our wet mounds together and rubbing, rubbing, grinding, slapping, until we found a position and rhythm that felt so good it was almost unbearable. My clit was on fire, and from the way she sucked my tongue I knew Karen’s was, too. We humped and humped, the well padded bed being miraculously quiet as we neared orgasm.
Out of nowhere came a voice. Mike’s. Not in the bedroom. Not that close. The kitchen, by the backdoor. He’d just come home and had called for me.
We could have just quickened our pace and finished each other off and tried to figure out things later. We could have tried to fool ourselves into thinking that this was still for Mike, and simply stopped cold and covered up our forbidden rendezvous. But instead we took route number three: postponement.
“Hey, I’m just changing,” I shouted, not letting go of Karen’s body even a little. The only reason I even stopped kissing her was so I could hear whatever Mike might say back and respond appropriately. I needed to buy some time. “I put a towel and some clothes out for you by the shower.”
Mike used the basement shower to bathe. It was the “his” bathroom. I had laid out a towel, but there were no clothes. Hopefully he would take the hint: take a shower and come back naked. I listened for footsteps, because if he didn’t bite and came into the room to check on me before heading downstairs, it was all over. My body should have been frozen with tension, but Karen and I couldn’t help but continue to rub against each other, clitorises virtually attached.
But after a long minute, we both heard the water rushing through the pipes downstairs. Not a second after and we were kissing and humping again, this time with a new intensity. I knew Mike took short showers, and Karen sensed my urgency. We fucked as hard as we could, our bodies slapping wetly, our pussies rubbing raw. Karen’s big tits bounced between us, trying to get free of the trap of our torsos. I felt her whole body jiggle, and I squeezed my fingers into the soft flesh of her ass.
With the only person to hear us deafened by a floor and a full spray of water, we didn’t let back. Karen and I screamed and cried into each other’s mouths, we called out for more, for God, for each other. Though it comes natural for me to close my eyes during sex, this time I kept them open, wanting to see the person–the woman–I was doing this with. And Karen watched me, too.
I wondered if I would ever crave something the way I craved the sexy, plushy woman at that moment. I didn’t just want to orgasm. I wanted her, to be with her, to never let go and never let all these feelings, physical and mental, to ever, ever end.
But it had to, and in spectacular fashion, we erupted together in orgasm: screaming, sweating, gasping, shuddering. My climax didn’t seem to originate from my crotch, thighs, and up my spine like usual. It came from everywhere–the tips of my fingers, my back, my neck, my knees. It was hard not to just start spasming out of control. Instead, I just held onto Karen tighter, as she did to me. And we kissed and kissed.
That should have been the end, and I think a large part of both of us wanted it to be. I could tell Karen wanted to leave, not because she was ashamed of what had occurred, but because it was something life-changing, and to go through with Mike’s surprise after finding out something like this about oneself was just too much. I knew she felt this way because I felt the same about myself.
But to avoid Mike’s surprise, we would’ve had to have quickly cleaned up, dressed, erased any trace of Karen having been there, and made sure she got out the door before Mike got out of the shower. It might have been possible. But Karen and I, we didn’t even try. Laying in the bed, wet with perspiration and still trembling from orgasm, we clung to each other as if there wasn’t another thing for us to do. We kissed more, each time with tongues, addicted to each other’s taste.
Mike took a long shower, allowing us to relax and melt in each other’s arms. When we heard the water shut off, reality snapped back into the moment. He could be up here, ready for his birthday fun, in a matter of seconds. There was no time to talk about what happened. No time to cover up Karen’s having been there. We were going to have to go through with it. So we composed ourselves as best we could, straightened up the bed, and downed another glass of margarita each to help wash down the taste of pussy before Mike was allowed to notice. We stared at the closed bedroom door, saying nothing.
Seconds ticked by. Minutes. Karen’s nipples had softened and shrunk when we had gotten ready for Mike’s arrival, but now they were getting hard again, and I knew it wasn’t thoughts of my husband that was doing that to her. Mine hardened again, too, and the only person I wanted to touch them right then was in the room with me.
I scooted closer beside her until our thighs touched.
“The stairs creak,” I said. “We’ll hear him when he comes up.”
We kissed, softly, but no less hungrily. I put my hand to Karen’s crotch, pushed a finger inside of her while rubbing my thumb through her soft, vanilla pubes. She spread her thighs and grinded slowly but firmly against my hand, which was shaking from the excitement.
“I never wanted to do that,” she said apologetically. The kissing stopped. The finger fucking and grinding did not.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked genuinely. I feared I was assuming too much.
Karen reassured me by placing her hand on my hand, pushing me deeper inside of her.
“Have you…ever done this?” she asked.
“I never even let it enter my mind. I’m just as surprised as you are. If not more.”
“I wouldn’t, um…I would like to do it again…with you.”
“I don’t want Mike to know,” I said, shaking my head and wondering why that was true.
“I won’t tell,” she said. And then Karen kissed me.
She had her head between my legs half a minute later. She moved slowly, taking the time to explore me. I held a hand to the top of her head, not to guide her but to feel her moving against me. I curled my fingers in her hair when I finally climaxed against her tongue. My chest heaved as I panted through it, and Karen rubbed her hands across my sweaty stomach.
She kept licking me until I was well past my orgasm. Then she looked up at me sadly.
“I don’t know if I can still do this with Mike. My head just isn’t in it.”
I knew what she was saying because again we were on the same page. She wasn’t suddenly lesbian. She was just enjoying this new experience and didn’t want a dick interrupting. As much as I love my husband and love pleasing him, I wasn’t ready for him, either.
But finally we both heard the stairs creak. There wasn’t much we could do. And then a thought struck me, and I kissed Karen one more time.
“Trust me,” I said. “Just trust me and I’ll make it worth your while.”
I touched her soft, vanilla bush once again, giving me goosebumps as I imagined what was about to happen…