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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: bestfrnd.txt
Authors name: Louise Kelley (louisekelley@hotmail.com)
Story title : Best Friend
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
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Best Friend - (FF)
by Louise Kelley (louisekelley@hotmail.com)
***
I have a very good friend. She is comfortable to talk
to. We talk about books, people we have known, and
things we would like to do someday. She pays attention
to the things I have to say, which is very flattering.
Even nicer, she shares her feelings with me, which
makes me feel privileged, special, connected. We meet
once a week for coffee and a chat in the teashop down
the street. The chats can get pretty boisterous, but we
have to keep it fairly tame because we are in public.
She is my best friend, and we laugh a lot together.
Today, we are having such a nice talk, that I don't
want it to end. The waitress is starting to give us the
evil eye for tying up a table for so long, but my son
isn't due home from school for hours, and I don't want
her to go. I explain that my house is just down the
street. We can go there and talk some more. I invite
her in and show her around the house. I fix a pot of
decaf and we sit down in the living room to continue
our talk.
Something has changed in the few minutes that it takes
to pay the bill and walk home. Probably because of the
interruption, the atmosphere is a little more strained
than it was at the teashop. She seems nervous; as
though there is something she needs to say yet is
afraid to say. Haltingly she tells me that she is a
lesbian and that she didn't tell me because it might
wreck our friendship.
She starts to cry. I feel so sorry for her. I am
anxious to reassure her that I wouldn't stop being her
friend just because of her sexual preference. I put my
arms around her, just to comfort her. She snuggles
close. Soon the hugs turn into caresses. We are sitting
on the couch, knee to knee, with our arms around each
other, her head resting on my shoulder, her face toward
my neck. She lifts her chin. Very gently, she starts
kissing the hollow above my collarbone. I can feel her
warm breath on my neck and it makes my chest ache. I
bend my head to meet hers, and we kiss.
The very gentle, friendship-type kiss turns more
passionate. We hear voices and suddenly remember that
the window curtains are open and anyone passing by
could see in. We jump apart. Flustered, she gathers up
her things and thanks me for a nice chat. She keeps her
eyes downcast as though afraid to look at me, afraid
that she would see that our friendship has ended. She
looks so unhappy. As she gets to the door I feel like
my heart might break-partly in sympathy but partly
because I know that, if she leaves now, she'll never
come back. "Don't go," I say.
She waits for me at the front door. I walk toward her
with my arms open.
With a funny noise that is part sob and part sigh, she
rushes to meet me. We hold each other, rocking gently
back and forth for a moment. "Please make love to me,"
she whispers.
The master bedroom would be too weird, too crowded with
marital ghosts for comfort. I take her to the guest
room. This was an ex-wife's bed. I've never made love
in it, so, perversely; it seems less crowded, less
complicated. That decision contains the implicit choice
to cheat on my husband, but I push that thought aside.
Suddenly, I am paralyzed with stage fright. I've seen
sexy movies with girl-girl scenes, but, if the straight
scenes in triple x movies don't bear any resemblance to
real love-making, I can hardly expect the lesbian
scenes to be very realistic. "I don't know what to do,"
I whine. "Don't worry. I'll show you," she replies.
She gently undresses me, kissing each part of me as it
becomes exposed. As I step out of my panties, she
caresses the curve of my waist and hip. "I just knew
you would look like this," she breathes. She turns me
toward the mirror.
Standing behind me, she puts her arms around my waist
and looks over my shoulder into the mirror. "Just look
at how beautiful you are."
I stand there at the foot of the bed, gazing at our
reflection. I watch us in the mirror as she kisses and
caresses me, sucks my nipples, and finally kneels in
the floor in front of me to ever so gently kiss my
clit.
I explode like a rocket and change from passive to
passionate. Somehow, suddenly we are on the floor in a
writhing tangle as I kiss her madly and tug at her
clothes. She laughs breathlessly and says "I thought
you were a happily married woman."
I have to laugh, too. "So did I," I reply.
"Wait. Just watch for a minute," she tells me. I sit in
the floor and watch her slowly, sensuously undress, her
eyes locked on mine the entire time. As the impromptu
strip-tease comes to an end, she throws her head back
and laughs. She cups both breasts in her hands and
jiggles them in a silly yet provocative way and makes
pouty faces at her reflection in the mirror. She
pinches her nipples until they stand up, firm and dark
pink. "Now we are both beautiful," she says.
She moves to the bed, carefully folds back the covers,
and slides in. I join her. We lay there facing each
other in the middle of the bed. Before I can get stage
fright again, she smiles and says, "Don't think so
much. Just hold me."
We kiss, slowly and deeply. We caress each other,
gently, on the face and neck and shoulders. She moves
my hands to her breasts as though giving me permission
to touch. When her hands wander down my belly, the
skins tingles like an electric shock. As I squeeze her
breasts, her hands wander down my hips and thighs. I am
so aroused that I ache.
I am a slippery mess half-way down my thighs, so my
desire is evident. She pushes against me until I roll
onto my back. Her hand moves purposefully down my
stomach, over the arch of my pelvis, to my wet,
throbbing lips. She rubs once, twice, three times, and
I come in a spasm that is almost convulsive. "The first
one is free," she says. "The second one will cost you."
Gradually, my inhibitions fall away as she shows me
exactly where to kiss, exactly where to rub, exactly
where to lick. I become an eager pupil, and then, I
feel comfortable enough to show her exactly what I
want-little secrets like the fact that the left side of
my clit is more sensitive than the right and that I
like her to suck hard on my nipples but not to bite. We
end up in the sixty-nine position, and the taste and
smell and feel of her is so overwhelming that it is
almost too much for me to bear.
Afterwards, we are both tired and almost sore. There is
just enough time for a quick shower. Showering with
another woman would have been another sexy, sensual
experience, but I am too aware of the time and too
suddenly shy to take full advantage of it.
I dress hurriedly and try to straighten the room, try
to erase the evidence of our afternoon. She sighs, "We
can't go back. This has changed our friendship
forever." I stop fussing with the bedclothes and grin
at her. "What are you doing next Tuesday?" I answer.
Louise Kelley
LouiseKelley@hotmail.com
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 28