"You can come up to my room silly, I won't bite." A quick flash of the smile that's always melted my heart as she disappeared around the corner. I fought down my foolish excitement and tried to keep my mind off her lips, the muscles of her back, her beautiful ass... I was trying so hard to be good.
We'd been friends for years, and I've always been attracted to her. But even though rotten timing had kept us from ever getting together, none of that strained our friendship any. We'd finished a long lazy wonderful lunch at her house, and my train was due in a few minutes. Then again, I'd never been in her room before...
The floor was a catastrophe of clothes, papers, and other sundries that somehow managed to feel homey rather than messy. The collage of photos, posters, drawings and clippings on the walls fit with the rest of the room: cluttered, but somehow beautiful.
"My humble abode. You like?"
"Of course m'lady." I looked at the pictures on the walls while she tended to her birds. Pictures of her and her sweetie, old friends, her little sister being cute....
"I'll be back in a sec. And don't worry. If it's on the floor, you can step on it."
I looked down at that and saw that I was standing on a pile of socks and bras. I had to smile at that. She was so beautiful it took my breath away, but when it came to organization.... Well, we all have our strengths and weaknesses after all... And my weakness....
At the sight of the bras, the body that occasionally filled them took form in my imagination. The soft curves I longed to trace, to feel pressed against me... Reluctantly I cleared the image away. She had harmlessly invited me to her room, and I should do my best to keep it harmless. Still, being in her room without her was oddly exciting. The same guilty thrill as a stolen kiss from sleeping lips. An explorer in uncharted if not quite forbidden territory.
I stepped over to her bookshelf to take my mind off the warm flush that was beginning to fill me. You can learn a lot about someone from their bookshelves, even if you've known them for a while. Hers was pretty diverse. Books on philosophy and religion, books in French, children's books, erotica... LOTS of erotica. Gay, straight, novels, short stories... I wonder if....
As I turned to look at the bookshelf by her bed, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something in an open dresser drawer. Curiosity overcoming prudence, I peered into her dresser. Amid the panties, garters, and stockings was a small pile of magazines with titles like "On Our Backs" and "Anything That Moves." I opened one with a wry grin. Yup, smut. And behind those were some condoms, a most impressive looking dildo, and a power cord that probably led to some kind of...
"Ahem. Looking for something?"
I could hear the smile in her voice, but I still froze in embarrassment. Even if I pretended not to see the toys and magazines, I was still standing there with my hands in her undies. Reason failed me, so I just said the first thing that popped into my head...
"I thought only guys kept drawers like this." Even as I said it I wanted to shrivel up and disappear, but her smile never even wavered.
"Of course not, silly! Did you think only guys ever got horny?" A soft warm laugh set me slightly more at ease as she approached. Her breasts brushed my arm as she reached around me to retrieve the dildo. "That's the biggest drawback to living with your parents. Even with a boyfriend, you still can't get laid whenever you want. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands."
The matter-of-fact way she said it, the sight of her standing there with an amused smile, absentmindedly stroking the disembodied cock... My throat went dry; a falling sensation grew in the pit of my stomach as I pictured it: She lay alone in her bed, the covers kicked aside, the reading lamp illuminating the thin sheen of sweat on her naked form. One hand holding a book up to half-open eyes, the other dancing between her legs, caressing her clit, bringing her closer and closer as the story nears its climax. The book falls away forgotten as eyes clench shut, muscles tense, breath races, back arches, fingers fly faster, faster... The gasp as orgasm washes over her is muffled so no one will hear. Her breathing slows, her flushed body still bathed in the glow of the single lamp...
The images, the afternoon's discoveries, the smell of her, the sight of her before me, the odd intimacy of being in her bedroom... It either made me brave or shut off rational thought all together. I heard myself say, "Would you like to make love?"
I couldn't believe what I'd just said. But even before shock, embarrassment, shame, or regret had time to form, she was kissing me. Softly. Slowly. Wonderfully. It may have lasted a second or an hour. I just know I never wanted it to end. But it did, and I found that being held by her was almost as wonderful.
