Xi

Saturday. My wife was at school, so I had the day all to myself. I had arranged to meet a friend of mine for coffee, at her place. This was all on the sly - there was nothing going on between us, but there would undoubtedly be fallout for both of us if the wrong ears heard about my visit.

Xi is one of my favourite women. She's bright, beautiful, athletic, compassionate, kind, and drop-dead sexy. I have known her for a very long time, but became friends with her only a few years ago. Our relationship was very shallow for many years; I saw her strictly as my wife's friend, never guessing the possibility that someone so attractive and intelligent would want a friend like me. Eventually, circumstances allowed us to spend hours together with only each other as company, and she is now one of my closest and most intimate friends. I have found a great deal of comfort in our friendship in the time since, and would value her for that alone, but I also find her deeply attractive, on the intellectual, emotional, physical, and sexual levels.

I am sure she is aware that I have sexual thoughts about her, but I don't think she is aware of the power she has over me. In times of great stress, I find my thoughts drawn to her; I occasionally wonder if this is some kind of abuse of our friendship, but I know, deep in my heart, that she fully accepts my weaknesses with my strengths. Reality dictates, however, that we be friends; the idea of us being anything more has never occurred to me as more than a passing fantasy.

I picked up some croissants and arrived at her place at about 10:30. I was knocking at her door a few short moments after signing in with the concierge. She threw it open, and welcomed me with a very enthusiastic "hey, how are you?" I loved the way she emphasized the "are" when she said it. I greeted her with the traditional kiss on each cheek and stepped back.

"I can't tell you how great it feels to see you. It's been ages since we had the chance to talk. Here; I brought you croissants."

She took the bag and sniffed it. The scent of fresh-baked pastries can be quite intoxicating. She sighed happily. "Have I told you today how much I love you?" We flirted like that fairly often; once, in what will certainly turn out to be one the highlights of my sexual existence, I licked a half-teaspoon-full of whipped cream off her arm. She had spilt it, by accident, during dessert one evening she and I were out with a bunch of other friends. I have never been sure what they made of it, but I must confess, I don't think I could ever resist the opportunity to lick food off her body.

"I'll put on the coffee. Would you like one of these?"

"Give me half."

She had set up the coffee maker; all she had to do was turn it on. She pulled a bread knife out of a drawer and cut two of the four croissants into halves, and arranged them nicely on a plate.

"Sofa?" I asked. She nodded, and I took the plate out and put it on her coffee table. I sat, and she appeared seconds later with a pair of side plates. She sat beside me, but we turned to face each other.

We chatted while the coffee brewed. It was great to spend time with her without having to worry about being given a hard time for it later. We started catching up on each other's life and doings. She had a much more intimate and open relationship with me than with my wife; I like to think that it's because I'm a good listener.

She was telling me about her run that morning. I thought it was a little cold for running, but I guess that's part of the reason I'm not a runner! She had gotten home and finished showering shortly before I had arrived; her hair was still wet.

"Do you want a foot massage?" It was a purely selfish suggestion on my part - it's not that I have a foot fetish, really, I just love touching women. Especially Xi.

"Ummm. Let me get some oil. We'll have to move onto the floor; I don't want to stain my sofa."

She got up, reappeared with a bottle of scented massage oil, and undressed her feet. I sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa, while she grabbed a pair of pillows and lay down with her feet in my lap. I was already starting to become hard. I poured a little oil into my hand and let it sit a few moments to warm up. Then I placed my hands together to get the oil on both of them, and started rubbing the sides of her feet.

"Let me know if anywhere needs extra attention, or if I do anything you really like." Foot massages offer limitless possibilities for innuendo.

"You've always seemed like you know what you're doing." She lay her head back and closed her eyes. I moved from gentle caresses to more aggressive pressure. Her arms lay limp on her stomach, and she looked more tranquil than I had seen her in a long time. I continued kneading her feet with my hands, my thoughts still relatively innocent. I knew it was a rare privilege to be permitted to touch her so intimately. I watched her beautiful face as her head rolled back even further on the pillows. As my fingers ran along her toes and the sides of her feet, she started to make little mewling noises. They were soft, but somehow at the same time primal and animalistic. I don't think she even knew she was doing it, but I found it irresistibly arousing. It was certainly a nice reward for the work I was doing. I felt compelled to continue, curious about what other reactions I might provoke. My thoughts, driven by my deep sexual yearning for her, drifted towards the less-than-innocent.

I have always suspected she would be horrified if she know the extent of my lust for her. She is one a very small number of women in the world whom I would be happy to lick clean AFTER another man had made love to her. It came as a something of a shock to me when I realized it; I think it would have floored her.

I kept going, part of me hoping this would go on a long time, part of me wanting to finish, and move on to even more satisfying things. A fantasy, of course; not only was I married, but I knew we weren't right for each other. On the other hand, of course, I was thinking about an hour or two of her time, not the rest of our lives! They were nice thoughts, even if idle. And it was nice to have skin-on-skin contact with her, even if it wasn't going to lead anywhere. I smiled to myself; I could think of no nicer way to spend the day.

"What are you thinking about?" I guess she had opened her eyes at just the right time to catch my smile.

"How absolutely kissable you look." She caught me off guard, but I knew she would have sensed it if I had lied.

She giggled. "You're sweet." Then she sat up, leaned over, and teasingly kissed me. Our lips touched for less than a second, then she pulled back and looked into my face.

"Yummy," I said. It's a word I don't use often, but I had heard her use it recently, and it seemed right.

"You liked that, did you?"

"I liked it lots. But - it was too short."

"I agree." I had not expected her to say that, but there was only one possible response. I leaned back towards her, and our lips met again. For longer, this time. We kept it at lip-against-lip, but it was definitely an effort on my part. I wanted to devour her! I pulled away this time; it was meant to be a "get-to-know-you" kiss, and I didn't want it to go on too long.

She sighed. "That was nice."

"Don't worry, there's more where that came from. I just wanted to give you a chance to catch your breath..."

I reached towards her and put my hands on her cheekbones. She didn't even flinch. Her skin was warm to the touch, and she was barely breathing. I inhaled; I was definitely about to cross a line with a very important friend. But this was something she needed as much as I did; we could deal with the fallout later.

Holding her face between my hands, I leaned forward, and kissed her, gently and lovingly. I let my hands brush up and down against her face, then I kissed her again. Longer, this time. And slightly more lustfully. Her lips parted, slightly, as my tongue traced their outline.

"You want to go down on me." It wasn't a question. She was used to men, and women, offering themselves to her; I had suggested it myself, more than once, but she was cautious enough to have taken it as a joke.

"Is that an invitation?"

She smiled back at me. I got to make my own decision here. I reached over, undid her belt, and gently unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. They were tight, to accentuate her fabulous body, but with her cooperation, they came off easily. I relished every second. She was lying on the floor, wearing only a T-shirt and thong, and she was smiling as she looked at me. I think it might be difficult to say which of us was going to enjoy this more.

I put my glasses down on the coffee table, crawled over to her, and sniffed her through her thong. "Yummy," I said again, as I gently coaxed it off her. She glistened with wetness; I guess she had definitely enjoyed the foot massage. She had spread her legs once the thong was off, and I moved in. I inhaled her scent once more. "Yummy" was definitely the right word for it, but she didn't need me to tell her that again. My tongue darted quickly and teasingly over her labia, barely touching her. Once, twice, a third time. This was a warm-up of sorts for me; I like to pass through various stages in this most intimate of acts, and enjoy the reaction to each. Unless she was abnormally sensitive, she would probably find this a little frustrating, so I decided to to move on.

I pressed harder, putting pressure on first the left side and then the right. I was in heaven. I stretched my tongue towards her back, and scooped it forward between her lips. Slowly, lazily, I let it circle her clit. She gasped, and I let my tongue complete its journey forward. Back, forward, circle, onward. I repeated this a few times - it's one of my favourites, but I didn't want her to get bored. Then I went deeper. She re-aligned her body slightly, as if she somehow knew what I was aiming for, or maybe she just wanted the same thing. I stuck my tongue as far inside her as it would go and rubbed it, as hard as I could, towards her tummy. I had just discovered the G-spot, and I knew there was a fairly high probability I could stimulate it, at least a little, from here. If not, well, I was still having fun!

With my tongue still inside her, I wrapped my lips around hers and pressed together with them a few times. Keeping my lips clenched around her, I let my tongue move back towards her clit again, and rub gently along its top. I worked my lips, relaxing and stiffening them as I licked. I felt her legs tense, and her body stiffened. I kept on, slowly, gently, and rhythmically - I seemed to be doing the right thing; this wasn't the time to change the recipe. She exhaled, loudly, inhaled, and gasped again. Pressure was building inside her, but it wasn't her time yet.

"Don't stop!" she said; she was almost crying with the effort. I stayed the course, but I knew I couldn't keep it up much longer - with the change in her position, my jaw and neck were starting to ache. It was still fun, and a challenge, but I didn't want to get distracted from my task at hand. I started counting to myself, with each pass of my tongue. Soon, before I had reached thirty, her magnificently body shook, hard and involuntarily, against me. It must have been contagious - I almost lost it myself then and there. I kept going, and soon, she shook again, although less strongly. I was willing to try for three, but she said, "Oh my God! Stop - I'm dying! Let me catch my breath!" I pulled back, and smiled up at her.

"Verrry nice," she said. "If you ever need a testimonial, I'd be happy to provide it."

I smiled back, feeling quite proud of myself. I wanted to lick her more, in other places, but I thought I had better give my tongue a rest.