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A Look, a Smell, a Thought, a Dream...

Posted by: Age: 33 Posted on: 4 comments
7 likes 2735 views Category: Masturbation Female-Female Tags: masturbation, orgasm, lesbian

I have this friend who drives me crazy...


I keep an eye out for her. I have been for months now.

We met at a local fundraiser and got talking. She was different to my usual friends, a little older, a little different in where she is in her life. She was interesting, intriguing, funny, attractive...

I'd see her, occasionally, out in town, or walking home. She'd come past the house, and if I saw her, it was only natural that I'd invite her in, and we'd sit on the sofa, chatting about this and that, as I tried so hard not to jump her there and then.

Because honestly, she's so hot.

She's in her late 30s, and confident. Dark red hair, slim, beautiful toned legs and high heels that I could never wear - but she's feminine, and elegant, and she moves with a grace that stirs something inside me. She wears expensive clothes, and she looks good in them, and when we're alone together I can sometimes see her underwear - if her blouse is see-through, or she sits in such a way I can get a glimpse up her skirt, then it takes no imagination at all to picture her stripped down.

She often wears stockings. I love women in stockings - I wear them as much for me as for my husband.

She's separated recently from her husband. Whether or not they get back together is up in the air. Fortunately, there's no children involved.

She likes silk, and lace. I like satin. I wonder how they'd rub up against one another?

Is she bi, like me? I hope so, I really do. Sometimes I think I catch her watching me as I move around. I don't always know when she's going to be there, and a couple of weeks ago she caught me when I was gardening - an early sunny day, warm enough for me to be wearing nothing but a vest top and shorts.

Between my legs and my cleavage, which I flashed a little when I thought she was looking, she seemed a little flustered. I hope she was. I hope she was thinking of me, the way I think about her.

My husband... Well, before Christmas we went to a party, and there was a woman there who danced with me, and looked at him, and danced with me some more, her hands where maybe they shouldn't have been on a married woman, but I enjoyed it, and so did he, and we brought her home. Watching him with her, him watching us together, having her join us... Wow. It was one of the most amazing nights of my life. I want to try it again, but would it be so selfish to have someone I can be with when he's not around? I'm under no illusions about my friend; She's attractive, and fun, and intelligent, but I don't love her - I just want to taste her, to feel her skin against mine.

When she leaves, when the last swish-swish of her legs has faded from my ears, I waste no time in stripping off. One time, after a particularly arousing conversation about our respective sex lives, I just sat at the foot of the stairs, hitched up my skirt, and caressed myself, rubbing sheer satin against the hard button of my clit, inhaling my own scent, mingled with her perfume.

I was quickly on the verge of cumming, but then it occured to me that if I could still smell her there, in the hallway, then surely the scent would be even stronger still at the sofa. Hurrying into the living room, I dropped to all fours in front of where she'd been sitting, the slight depression in the cushion telling me exactly where, and I could smell her, her perfume, and something else, perhaps, just slightly, maybe my imagination, but it made me rub faster, rub harder, and when I came, I came hard, my legs quaking, collapsing, face-first onto the sofa, my face buried where she had been, and still I rubbed, pushing myself over again at the thought of being there, next time she called in, my face between her legs, her screams echoing in my mind as I panted and gasped, my slick, sodden panties clinging to my fingers...

She came by again last week. Was it my imagination, or was she dressed a little more carefully? Her makeup, a little more emphatic? Was there, perhaps, a moment where she spread her legs a little more than usual, where she watched my eyes to see whether I looked or not?

Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.

I may need to have that conversation with my husband.




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