I Saw The Light 1

PREFACE:

This is a story told to me by a fellow 'lipstick lesbian'. It's been a few years since I've seen her but I hope my memory of her account is accurate enough.

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"Why don't you come in and let me make dinner for us," Samantha said as we arrived back at her place from the airport.

I couldn't put my finger on why the very attractive brunette in my passenger seat made me uneasy.

'Maybe it's just because I don't know her all that well,' I speculated.

I wasn't giving her a once over but I had to look somewhere other than in her eyes as I tried to manufacture a reason to decline. The way she'd twisted slightly sideways in the seat pulled the neck of her sundress open a bit. It was already low cut enough to reveal some cleavage and my passenger had the boobs to pull that off. Her sidesaddle position in the seat afforded an even deeper view into the bodice of the dress; far enough for me to be able to see a good portion of the upper slope of her right breast all the way down to, and including, the upper margin of her skin tone bra cup. I quickly averted my eyes from the apparently inadvertent exposure.

The little pastel green sundress with big pink spiral swirls hugged her midsection accenting the thrust of her bosom. When my gaze passed her hips I realized that I had gone too far.

Her left knee was up on the seat while her right foot pushed against the floor promoting the turn of her body. The result was that the hem of the sundress was pulled way up her right leg showing off her incredibly soft looking bare inner thigh.

"Come on... what are you going to do... go home to an empty house and make dinner for yourself," she said several seconds after she'd issued the original invitation to which I hadn't responded.

She was right of course. There was no one to rush home for.

I had picked up Samantha and Dennis from their home three hours ago with my husband Todd riding shotgun. Together the four of us had gone to the airport to see the men off on their business trip. The supplier that they were going to perform a quality audit on had suggested that if they came in on the Friday, instead of Monday that he could get them out for a couple rounds of golf over the weekend at his private club. The opportunity of free golf on a prestigious private course was irresistible to Dennis and Todd in spite of the obvious intention to prejudice the audit.

I'd made myself a little plan about how I was going to spend the weekend alone; what I'd eat and so on, but I really had no good reason to turn down Samantha's offer other than the fact that she made me uncomfortable.

'If I could just figure out what it is that keeps me off balance maybe I could get over it,' I thought. 'The best way to figure it out would be to spend some alone time with her... wouldn't it?'

"Okay, that'd be great!" I finally replied with more enthusiasm than I was feeling.

My passenger, and soon to be hostess, flashed me her perfect white teeth between her pouty blushing peach glossed lips.

"Wonderful, we'll have a nice dinner... some wine... get better acquainted... it'll be fun!" she bubbled and patted my knee just below the hem of my skirt.

The touch of her soft little hand on my bare flesh sent a thrill down my spine. I shivered just a bit but I'm sure Sam didn't notice because she was already opening her door.

Inside the split level ranch style house my hostess led me to the sunken living room.

"What a lovely home you have," I complimented sincerely.

"Why thank you Doris. Coming from you I consider that very high praise. Can I get you some wine?"

"Sure."

"Red... White... Rose?" she listed the options.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I responded politely.

"Make yourself comfortable," Samantha said turning toward what I assumed was the direction of the kitchen.

"I've got a lovely Rose that's become my favorite... I think you'll enjoy it too," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner.

Watching the sexy sway of her hips as she walked away, her overall beauty struck me again.

'Is that it... you're jealous of her good looks... her youth?'

That was part of it at least.

She wasn't quite young enough to be my daughter. Although I didn't know her age with certainty, I did know that I had considerably more than ten years on her—probably closer to fifteen. My fortieth birthday was looming and I was sure the spectacular woman who'd offered to make dinner wasn't much, if at all, past twenty-five.

Her husband Dennis was a junior member of the team of engineers my husband led. He'd only been with Todd's company a little over a year, fresh out of college. Todd and I had seen Sam and her husband socially but only at company functions so, while the men were quite comfortable seeing each other everyday in the office, Sam and were just barely acquainted.

'That's what she'd said wasn't it... we can get better acquainted? It'll be fun,' I hoped she was right, but first I had to get over my uneasiness.

Once again I tried to analyze, hoping that determining the root cause would be a first step in overcoming it. I didn't really have any "girlfriends". Other than the women I worked with, I spent very little time with other females. Todd and I kept mostly to ourselves. Our social life was, in a word, boring. After nearly twenty years of marriage we were still very much in love and comfortable—content with just each other's company.

So there it was, another factor; I just wasn't used to socializing with other women, and especially one on one. It hadn't always been so. Before I was married I had several friends through high school and college. I would even have considered some of them close friends. Somehow those relationships had not survived our commitments to our mates.

That's where I was, trying to recall how my old same sex friendships had evolved and worked when Samantha arrived back carrying a tray with two long stemmed glasses and a large bottle of pink liquid.

She set the tray down on the coffee table and stood up.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but I just had to get into something more comfortable."

My knees went weak and I fell rather than sat down on the couch. My hostess had changed into a sort of a duster, or maybe it was a dressing gown. The pale blue fabric had sheen to it and a ruffle that went around her neck and down the wide lapels, ending at a tightly synched belt tied around her tiny waist. She was standing there lifting and I could almost say massaging her heavy and obviously unfettered breasts.

"Isn't it just the most wonderful thing when you can finally get your bra off?" she proposed while she was manipulating her big fleshy tits.

I sat there speechless and although my mind was in turmoil I was peripherally aware that my mouth was probably hanging open and my eyes were almost painfully wide. That wasn't even the disturbing part. What put me nearly into a state of shock was that my vagina began to clench and my nipples were itching.

'I'm having a sexual reaction to this woman in her housecoat!' some part of my brain screamed in utter disbelief.

When I managed to take my eyes off Sam's hands squeezing her boobs and looked at her face I was afraid of what I might see there. She had to have noticed my reaction, but there was nothing in her expression to indicate it. The Mona Lisa smile did not reflect concern.

'Maybe she didn't even notice...' I kidded myself.

I had managed to close my mouth and felt my eyebrows return to a more normal level, but the signals coming from my erogenous zones didn't subside.

I've said that Todd and I were still very much in love but the fire was, for the most part, only a memory. We made love once or twice a week and it was nice. I enjoyed the physical closeness and the cuddling but rarely had an orgasm. Sexual gratification was something I hadn't thought about in quite sometime, so to have the urge overtake me so suddenly was amazing. For it to have been caused by another woman was unthinkable—but nonetheless true.

My mind picked up the train of thought I was considering before my hostess had derailed it. How had my same sex relationships worked in the past? Had I ever had any sexual attraction before?

'Of course not!' the denial was a knee jerk.

I could not suppress the memory of practice kissing early in high school. I had done it with a couple of girlfriends—didn't everybody? That's what I'd told myself at the time. It was a right of passage, something all kids went through before they were ready to progress to relationships with the opposite sex. The clarity of the recollection was startling. Those thoughts hadn't crossed my mind in twenty-five years and suddenly it was like it had happened yesterday.

'It wasn't sexual... it was just adolescent curiosity,' I lied to myself.

You can lie to yourself but it'll never be convincing. There's always that voice deep inside that won't let you ignore the truth, and the truth was that I enjoyed it—too much. I had always wished it would go further than just kissing, but I was too shy to take the next step and—fortunately or unfortunately—so were my girlfriends.

My lips had begun to tingle, or something. The sensation was really hard to characterize but I recognized it as a burning desire to kiss, or be kissed. Licking my lips only seemed to make it worse.

It seemed like for those few seconds that my eyes had been disconnected. Wrestling with my shocking physiological reactions and long dormant memories had transported me into a daydream state. When my visual cortex re-engaged I wished that it hadn't.

Samantha was leaning way forward to pour the wine. Her breasts hung pendulously from her chest and the lapels gaped providing me with a view that slammed into my pussy like a hammer blow. I could see most of my young hostess' tits and couldn't help asking myself when I had ever seen another woman's breasts like this before—the answer was never.

It seemed to be taking an incredibly long time to pour the two glasses of wine, or maybe it was just me. I fully realized that I was staring down the neck of Samantha's robe but for those interminable seconds I was unable to stop. When I finally tore my eyes off her boobs the expression on her face told me that she'd noticed where my focus had been, but she didn't say anything. She set the bottle back on the tray and took a seat in the easy chair facing the couch that I was sitting on. The heat in my neck and face told me that I was blushing.

"Here's to a girls' night in," she raised her glass as she proposed the toast. I lifted my glass and as we clinked our eyes met.

Sam's eyes were an even deeper shade of brown than her thick luxurious hair. They seemed to be searching, as if they were trying to reach inside of me; to read my mind. We sipped and I broke the eye contact for fear that she could actually do it. If she'd been able to read my thoughts she'd know that I was dying to see the rest of her magnificent breasts—to see all of her for that matter—I was so ashamed of myself.

"How do you like that?" she asked, at the same time she crossed her legs, knee over knee. The dressing gown parted leaving her bare legs completely exposed.

I knew that she was referring to the wine—wasn't she? The juxtaposition of the question and the leg crossing action left me with some doubt.

"Wonderful!" I responded not deliberately trying to be ambiguous, but the sentiment did apply to both.

The only reason that I couldn't see Samantha's crotch was because her thighs were pressed together. Otherwise I had an unobstructed view of her legs pretty much up to her hips. She was only an inch or so taller than me but her legs looked so much longer than mine, not to mention being more shapely.

"How do you keep yourself looking so young and fit... Oh! I didn't mean to imply that you're old," Sam complmented and then immediately put her hand over her mouth as if it could have been construed as an insult.

I had just drained my wine glass—which I drank much too fast. I almost sprayed the mouthful of alcohol across the room when I heard her question. I managed to swallow and cough a few times and by then the urge to chuckle, that had caused me to choke in the first place, had passed.

"Oh my God Sam you can't be serious!" I challenged when I was finally able to speak.

"I am... I'm being totally honest. You're so slim and trim... you have just a wonderful figure," she continued the praise that in my opinion was entirely undeserved.

My impending fortieth had been weighing on me ever since my thirty-ninth. I found myself examining my body and face in the mirror every day—sometimes twice a day—looking for new wrinkles and droops. Of course the more I stressed the more I looked and the more I looked the more I found. I had tested my husband's patience to the breaking point asking for reassurance.

Being complimented so genuinely by my gorgeous younger companion went to my head. I was feeling a little dizzy and couldn't separate the effect of the ego boost from that of the alcohol.

"Well thank you very much. That really means a lot to me coming from someone with a figure as spectacular as yours," I accepted the compliment and sincerely returned it.

"Now you're just being kind," the stunning brunette responded as she refilled our glasses.

"I mean come on... I look like a cow," she expressed her dissatisfaction; "look at these!" As she spoke she began to heft her breasts, like she'd done when she first arrived with the wine.

A powerful unseen force gripped me directly by the crotch, and the squeezing sensation caused my whole body to be enveloped in a warm tingle. I took a gulp of courage from my refilled glass. I had never been much of a drinker—a cheap date, as my husband always says—so a glass and a half of wine was enough to bring me to the verge of intoxication. My inhibitions were fading. Without any conscious effort I was beginning to enjoy the rare feelings of sexual arousal instead of fighting and denying them.

"Most women would kill for, or at least pay a lot of money to have your bust," I comforted my companion.

"I know they do it for men. Men really like them... but don't you think that they're too big?"

Samantha had been looking down at her chest as she was lifting and sort of wiggling her melons through the gown. She raised her eyes and looked directly at me when she posed the question. The dark brown pools were sending that piercing, probing, mind reading signal. Previously I'd been afraid she'd actually be able to glean what I was thinking; but now I hoped that she would.

Her fingers made deep impressions in the pliable fullness of her tits and—God forgive me—I wished that they were my hands. The thin blue robe was pulled tight over the front of her boobs with her hands underneath and lifting. It was easy to see the pea sized bump straining at the cloth. I wondered if it was coincidental or deliberate that her manicured rosy peach painted thumb nail was resting up against her tumid nipple.

I thought I should say something, I mean she had asked me a question, but not only could I not think clearly I was also feeling short of breath. Seconds were ticking by in silence. I tried to maintain eye contact but I couldn't stop myself from glancing down at my hostess' breasts.

Raising my stare to her face again, her expression had changed. The searching, entreating look had become one of resolve—as though she'd found what she looking for. Her pouty kissable looking lips bore that Cheshire Cat grin, like the one she'd worn when I'd gaped at her massaging her tits the first time.

It seemed like slow motion. Samantha slid forward off the chair to her knees. In the process she slipped the knot out of her sash.

My heart and my pussy were pounding, my head was spinning and the whole scene seemed surreal as she pulled the gown apart and knelt right in front of me essentially naked. Any capability for rational thought evaporated at the sight of my companions magnificent breasts.

"Feel them and see if you think they're too big," she sighed.

I heard the words but I just couldn't believe it.

It was like being in another dimension, a rift between two universes. Behind was a dark place. I could almost hear my mother and teachers calling out how sex between two women was wrong—immoral. Ahead was a bright light that seemed to radiate warmth and love. The voices from behind were getting fainter as I moved forward toward the light.

The warm feeling in my hand was Samantha's breast. Not waiting for me to crossover she'd taken the initiative and put my hands on her tits. Instinctively I captured her long semi-erect nipples and began tugging and twisting.

She'd referred to herself as a cow and the way I was manipulating her was remarkably similar to milking. The guttural sounds she made were very evidently from pleasure.

Her hands were on my bare knees and sliding upward pushing my skirt up ahead of them. I looked down just as the hem was raised high enough to reveal the crotch of my sensible cotton briefs. I almost expected to see steam rising; my pussy felt so hot. I did catch a waft of the delicate fragrance I recognized as my own arousal.

The kneeling woman lowered her face to my crotch and began gently kissing and licking my inner thighs. Bent forward as she was, took her boobs out of range so I let myself sag against the backrest of the sofa. My eyes were closed but I still felt bathed in bright light and heat.

I could not believe how sensual Samantha's sucking kisses and licks were, and she hadn't even reached my vulva. I was already more aroused than I had ever been in my life.

When her face pressed into the fleshy bulge of my mons through the cotton cover my constant moan became a groan. I felt her hot breath through my panties and her lips or her tongue moving over my swollen lips. I knew that the pressure and the movement of her face would have broken the containment and that my plentiful vagina fluids would now be soaking through.

I let out a deep sigh that turned into a wail as she pulled the crotch gusset aside and began to explore my outer folds with her tongue. I couldn't say exactly what she was doing, just that I'd never felt anything like it before.

Todd and I had oral sex and he had applied his mouth to my vulva many times but I usually didn't seem to get much out of it. It was probably just my perception, but I always felt that he did it out of some misguided sense of fairness. He absolutely loves it when I give him head and it seemed to me that he did me thinking that I'd have to reciprocate—which I usually did but not for the reasons he thought.

There was barely a similarity between my husband's half-hearted efforts and what the gorgeous busty brunette was doing to me. Her tongue licked and stroked, probed and flicked. Her lips sucked and caressed, in between pulling my labia out and I would have believed that she was gently chewing on it. Although I felt myself loosing control of my pelvis—it was moving and jerking all on its own—I tried to hold back. The stimulation was so varied that it seemed every second was different and I wanted it to go on forever and never end.

I was, and am, no anatomy buff but I knew that the hot pressure in my lower belly was coming from my uterus. When Samantha's tongue began to tease the firm nubbin at the top of my crease I knew that I would not be able to resist against the direct stimulation of my clitoris.

I exploded in a blinding flash of light and heat that was more powerful than anything I could ever have imagined. The sheer ecstasy lasted ten seconds and then the somewhat familiar plunge into blissful serenity began. The wash of tranquility was tempered by the fact that Sam as still sucking gently on my upper labia.