I Just Dont Know

I'm not a lesbian.

I'm not, really. But, something happened recently and I need to tell someone. I can't tell my friends. I certainly can't tell my husband. But, I really need to share this, get it off my chest. So . . .why not tell the world? That's why I'm here. Obviously, I'm going to be discreet, change some details, but, this is how it happened and this is why I'm so . . . what's the word? Agitated.

Okay. Background. You need to know some things about me. I'm 34. I've been married for almost ten years. I worked for a while after college, but stopped when I had my only child, a daughter. I don't need to work, as my husband has a very good job. I stay active, spending time each week at a gym to try and stay fit. After my daughter's birth, I had to work hard to tighten up my figure, but I think I can honestly say I'm trim and healthy looking. I'm blonde, medium height and . . . God, I'm self-conscious talking about this . . . my boobs and bottom would be described as medium-sized as well. My husband says he loves my body, so that's good enough for me.

I spend a lot of my time doing charity work as a member of women's organizations made up of women like me . . . rather well-off and bored silly if we have to sit around the house too much looking at our pretty furniture.

One of the organizations I belong to figures in my story. It is a very old, very prestigious service group which holds fund raisers and makes donations to worthwhile charities with the profits. I've been a member for six years now and currently hold the position of Corresponding Secretary on the Board of Directors. The Board is still dominated by some of the most socially powerful women in our area . . . blue bloods who are very much into maintaining traditions and policies. One of these traditions is that each year, when a sub-committee meets to update the group's constitution, it is the duty of the Corresponding Secretary to hand-deliver the new constitution to all of the other Board members. Ridiculous in this age of computers and e-mail, really, but, try telling that to the president who can take your breath away with a withering stare should she be so inclined. So it was that, on an absolutely glorious summer day, I was in my car, driving to the homes of the other seven Board members, with copies of the proposed new constitution on the passenger seat beside me.

I started out in mid-morning (my daughter was away at summer camp, so no responsibilities for me there) and by noon had delivered four of the packets. At each stop, I chatted briefly with these women who I knew so well, complimenting them on their lovely homes, gardens, and the like. And they

were

beautiful, some of the finest properties in the most private and upscale neighborhoods of our community. I turned down offers to stop for something to drink or for lunch as I wanted to complete my rounds before it got too late. I did have a quick bite at a restaurant and saw two more members by 1:30.

One more stop then to make. Her name was Caroline Smith (not really, but it'll do) and, of all the Board members, I knew her the least. It was her first year on the Board and I had only spoken to her briefly at a few meetings. I had been impressed, however, by her enthusiasm and sense of humor. It seemed like some private joke was always lurking behind those eyes. She was my age, attractive, and someone who I thought I might enjoy getting to know.

Caroline's home was in a wooded area on the outskirts of our town. Each house, stately and imposing was separated from its neighbors by large stands of wooded thickets. I found her street and then the number. Caroline's house stood in front of me and it was spectacular. A large colonial, with a circular driveway and an impeccably planted front lawn, it was right out of a home design magazine. I parked the car, grabbed a constitution and strode up the brick walkway to an enormous high-gloss black front door. I rang the bell and heard footsteps almost immediately.

Caroline opened the door and greeted me warmly. "Well, it's the lady with the constitutions. Thank God - I've been on pins and needles just

dying

to read it cover to cover!" She grinned and invited me in. I was somewhat surprised to see her dressed in a robe and perhaps my eyes gave me away, for she said, "Please excuse the way I'm dressed. I've been getting some sun on my deck and just threw this on." She was a tall woman with dark hair and the robe couldn't hide the fact that she seemed to have a fine physique.

"Don't be silly," I replied. "Perfect thing to be doing on a day like this."

We stood in an expansive foyer and I handed over the constitution. I said, "Well, that's that. You're my last stop."

"Oh, good," Caroline said with a smile. "Then, you're in no hurry. You can stay for a drink. I'd love some adult company." She explained that her kids were visiting their grandparents and that her husband was on a business trip so she was eager to have someone with whom to chat. My first thought was, "Oh, damn, I really wanted to get home," but she seemed genuinely interested in having me stay, so I agreed to have a quick drink.

"How about a Seabreeze?" she asked. "Nice and refreshing on a hot day."

"That would be lovely," I answered. "But, no alcohol, please. I'll be driving soon."

"Oh, you

are

the good girl, aren't you? Let me just add a tiny splash of vodka. You've earned it with this silly mission of yours."

I smiled and agreed. She was so warm and welcoming, I was suddenly in no hurry to get home. My husband wouldn't be there 'til after 7:00, so I thought, why not have some fun with this charming lady?

We chatted as she fixed the drinks in her kitchen and she then suggested that we head out to her deck. A large sliding door connected the kitchen to what I can only describe as paradise. The deck was elevated and enormous. Beautiful teak chairs surrounded a large table with an off-white beach umbrella and four padded recliners lay beyond that. All this overlooked a backyard that featured two long perennial borders and a small circular pond in the center. The yard was surrounded on three sides by huge trees, giving it a sense of total privacy and isolation. It was simply the most beautiful yard I had ever seen and I told Caroline just that. "Yes, it is pretty, isn't it?" she responded. "I do love it here and spend most of my free time soaking it all in." As she spoke, she very casually removed her robe and revealed a modest two-piece bathing suit beneath it. "You don't mind, do you? I'm sorry . . . I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, of course not," I answered. "Enjoy." She sat down on one of the recliners while I took one of the straight-backed teak chairs. I should mention that I was dressed in my "Junior League uniform": a knee-length floral skirt and a front-buttoned cotton blouse. We sat, sipping our Seabreezes (Just a splash of vodka? Seemed like a bit more, thought I.), sharing opinions of members of our organization. Caroline proved to be just what I expected: an insightful, clever observer of the social scene. Time passed quickly as we easily conversed and our glasses were soon empty.

"Now . . . you can't leave yet. This is way too much fun. Let me get us another round," she suggested. I put up no argument. She was right. This was fun and I was enjoying her company immensely.

When she returned with the drinks, she said, "It seems a shame that you can't enjoy some sunning, too. Can I get you a bathing suit to put on? We look almost the same size." That was a stretch; actually, as she was considerably taller than me and fuller in build.

"No, no . . . that's okay," I said. "I'm fine." But, actually, the thought of getting some sun was really appealing. As we sat drinking and talking, I casually unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and spread it open a bit, just to get some sun on my neck. Caroline seemed to take no notice. A few minutes later, though, I undid a second button and spread the blouse a bit wider. It felt wonderful as the sun's rays hit my neck and chest. This time, my hostess spoke up. "Well, it's obvious you want to get some sun too. Come on, off with the blouse. I won't tell a soul."

I sighed, realizing she was right. I unbuttoned the rest of my blouse and removed it, revealing my modest, plain white bra. No different from a bikini top, really. "I've got to admit, that feels great."

Caroline smiled and said, "Now it would be silly to stop there. Let's go. Off with the skirt." She seemed to be enjoying this scenario and my apparent shyness.

I laughed a bit and said, "Good heavens! Is it the drink, the sun, or what? I didn't come here to put on a strip show!" We both laughed but I stood and removed the skirt. My bra was now joined, on hopefully not-so-public display, by a pair of pale pink, bikini-cut panties. "Ta-da!" I sang, as I twirled once before plopping myself down on a recliner.

"Nice. God, you are really fit. You must be at the gym every day," Caroline said, admiringly.

I smiled my thanks and said, "This feels wonderful. Thank you so much for the opportunity." Caroline passed me some sun block and I applied it as we continued our chat, totally at ease in each other's presence. At this point, everything was just fine . . . two new friends having a relaxing afternoon, soaking up some sun. Leave it to me to change everything.

After a brief lull, I looked around and said what came into my mind. "This is so private. Do you ever get an all-over tan up here?"

Rather than answering me, Caroline simply lowered a shoulder strap. There was no tan line whatsoever. "When I'm not expecting guests, I never wear a suit. It feels wonderful."

"Well . . . don't let me stop you," I replied. "It wouldn't bother me a bit." Where the heck was this coming from? I don't remember being turned on, or anything. I just thought; why not let her do what she typically does?

Caroline flashed me a sideways smile, almost like she was regarding me differently. Without a word, she lowered the other shoulder strap, reached behind her and unclasped the hook. The top fell away exposing her breasts for the entire world to see. Well, not really all the world – just me. And impressive breasts they were: fairly large, firm, and topped with nipples that seemed to be quite erect . . . not that I stared. Or, at least, I tried not to. We both sat back in our recliners and continued to chat away. I found myself continuing to sneak the occasional peek, figuring I was safe behind my sunglasses. Every time I looked, I noticed how firm they were, even though Caroline was lying almost flat in her chair. They looked real and I was dying to ask if they were, but somehow restrained myself.

"So, do you like 'em?" Caroline's words startled me.

"What?"

"The girls. My ta-tas. What do you think?"

I was truly flustered and tried to mutter something about not staring. "Don't be silly," Caroline said. "It's perfectly natural to take a look, to compare. I'm fine with it."

Relaxing a bit, I said, "Okay, I'll admit it. I looked and they're beautiful. So round and firm. Boy, I could've used them in college."

She laughed and said, "Yeah, they came in handy - very few dateless weekends." Then, taking off her own sunglasses, she studied me and said, "Yours look to be perfect for your body size. Of course, I can't really tell . . ."

This obvious invitation to remove my bra would've sent me running to my car if I hadn't been drinking. Instead, my vodka-addled little brain figured it was perfectly reasonable for Caroline to want to see mine. So, with only a little hesitation, I undid the front clasp and revealed 'my girls'. Caroline didn't attempt to be coy. She gave them a long, hard look and stated, "Perfect. Really nice boobs. But you definitely want to protect them." She handed me the tube of baby suntan lotion. "Few things worse than sunburned nipples."

I squeezed out some lotion and carefully rubbed it in. For the first time all day I got an actual sexual jolt as I skimmed over my ultra-sensitive nipples. When I'm turned on, my nipples

are . . .um . . . out there. My husband calls them his gumdrops. Apparently, something was going on here because the gumdrops were almost inch-long cylinders. Rubbing in the lotion, taking my time, I actually thought I heard a little moan escape my lips but couldn't be sure. Breathing a bit raggedly, I handed the tube back to Caroline. We wordlessly resumed our relaxed positions and didn't speak for a few minutes.

Caroline broke the silence with, "Ever been topless before?"

I think I surprised her when I told her that I had. "Richard and I went to St. Martin two years after we got married. We went to this beach that had an actual nudist resort at one end, so there were a lot of topless women – and bottomless, come to think of it – walking back and forth in front of us as we sat on the beach. Richard told me I should take off my top and I told him that it wasn't going to happen. That was the first day. On the second day, I relaxed a bit and decided, 'Why not?' and discreetly removed my top. He was so surprised, and turned on; we left the beach after about ten minutes and raced back to our room. Wow."

Caroline giggled, "Funny, huh? Not like he hadn't seen them before, but the moment . . ."

"Exactly. By the end of the week, I was walking along the beach without my top, thinking nothing of it. Of course, back then you didn't worry about your picture showing up on some website. Don't think I'd be so reckless these days."

"And the sex was never better, I'm guessing."

"Unbelievable," I said with a laugh. "I walked with a limp for weeks."

Seeing two empty glasses, Caroline said, "Time for one more round?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. What time is it anyway?"

"It's quarter to three." She smiled, her voice dropping into a campy Sinatra imitation. "There's no one in the place except you and me." She may have sounded like Sinatra, but definitely didn't look like him.

"Then set 'em up, Joe," I jokingly slurred. "Oh, why not?"

Caroline stood up and before reaching for the glasses, did something so natural and easy that it hardly surprised me. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her swim shorts and matter-of-factly peeled them down her hips, her knees, and her ankles. She threw them on her recliner, grabbed the glasses, and walked by me. Her breasts bobbed and her hips swayed. My eyes followed her, transfixed by the sight of her beautiful bottom, every bit as tanned as the rest of her.

Now, in normal circumstances, I know I would've freaked out. These were not normal circumstances. Instead, I just smiled and thought how lovely this all was. I happened to look down at my panties and noticed they were no longer totally pale pink. In one spot – center, low, very low – they had turned a darker pink. They were noticeably moist and it was not perspiration, of that I was sure.

I giggled. It seemed I was giggling a lot. I thought, "Well, we can't have this." So I raised my hips from the chair and pulled my panties off in one quick motion. I sat back down and reveled in the feeling of freedom that came with being totally naked.

Caroline came back with the drinks. She spotted me and grinned. "Atta girl. Doesn't it feel wonderful?"

"It really does," I purred, taking a sip of the drink. "Make time stop, please."

"I wish I could. Hey. We compared boobs, let's check out the rest."

"Caroline! You're unbelievable!" I stammered. But I looked at her. I saw puffy lips topped by a thin strip of dark, rather coarse hair. Caroline was looking at me, too.

"Well, I can see you're a natural blonde, for one thing. Very sweet." I looked down at myself and saw my fleecy, thin pubic hair, a bit matted in the heat. I remember thinking how glad I was that I had trimmed it the night before. Caroline continued, "Your husband is a lucky man. You really are beautiful . . . all over." I smiled my grateful thanks at the compliment and gave in to the urge to eye my new friend, up and down. She reminded me of a showgirl, so tall and statuesque. She had to be all of 5'9" and her body was healthy and round. Every man's dream, I thought. With some difficulty, I asked, "Do you and your husband ever - you know . . . out here?"

"Fuck?" she responded. Not 'make love', she said 'fuck' and it perfectly fit the moment's mood. "Yes, we have. But, more often I work solo out here. It's hard not to when it feels so good."

With that, we stopped speaking and just continued to look at each other. The staring continued for what seemed like minutes. Caroline's chest was rising and lowering, her breathing a bit labored. Suddenly, she said, "Whoa . . . we need to be careful."

I wondered what she meant, but was relieved when she reached for the baby lotion. "If you think sunburned nipples are bad . . . " She didn't have to finish the sentence. She squirted a gob of the lotion in the palm of her left hand and handed me the tube. I squeezed it and took a healthy amount on my index and middle finger. I began rubbing it in, first over my pubic hair and slowly lower, reaching my very moist pussy lips. I involuntarily shivered at the contact but continued applying the cool lotion to my very sensitive parts.

"Take your time. Go slowly." Her words contained a very obvious message.

I looked over at Caroline and our eyes locked. I watched her as she stood up and moved her recliner so that it was facing mine. She sat back down and started rubbing the lotion over her pussy. I was still rubbing myself but my eyes were on Caroline, as hers were on me. I watched as she spread her legs a bit. She used her left hand to spread her lips and her right hand rubbed the lotion into her glistening cleft. When her index finger made contact with her now exposed clit, she softly cooed.

My own fingers were at work. I was so wet. I gasped as two of my fingers tentatively entered my pussy. I abandoned any pretense of dignity and I felt my legs splay wider apart. It felt fantastic. I wanted to cum and I wanted her to cum with me.

Caroline brought one hand up to her chest and started to caress her breast. She pinched the nipple and moaned with the sensation. As if staring in a mirror I did the same, my nipple hardening as I worked it with my damp fingers. Oh, God, it was so, so good.

"Cum for me," she said, softly and urgently. "I want to hear you cum."

I nodded my head slowly, in rhythm with my hand's movements. "I want to. I want to."

Caroline stood, and walked over to my lounge chair. She sat at the bottom and softly touched my knee. It was like an electric shock. She kneaded it and whispered, "Let me help you."

I was beyond refusal. My legs parted and her hand moved up the inner side of my thigh. She stood while continuing her hand contact and knelt beside me, her knees on the deck. She lowered her head and I felt her lips explore my breast, softly sucking on my nipple. It was unbelievable. I was practically thrashing in the chair as I got closer and closer to an orgasm. As she sucked, that hand . . . that hand moved slowly northward. I felt her fingers cover mine and work them apart. A finger was now in my vagina and it wasn't my finger.

Waves of passion were building at a fever pitch. My eyes, which had been closed, now opened to see the incredible sight of this stunningly beautiful woman licking my tit and rhythmically fingering my cunt. Yes, that was the word. She was fingering my hot, wet cunt and I was gone, simply gone. Her thumb grazed my clit, and then again, swirling around it as her finger moved in and out in rhythm with my own hips. I could feel Caroline's hard nipples rubbing against my body as she sucked and massaged me. This was rapturous. I wanted it to go on and on but I wanted to be

there

. Then, it happened. The dam broke and I saw a million stars explode as I reached a throbbing, glorious orgasm. On and on, I rode the wave, crying out (I don't know how loudly, but I also didn't care) in a moment like none I had ever known.