I have the real joy of being friends with a great woman, Delores. We used to work together and just hit it off. She was the loud brash one and I was the quiet more professional one, who, of course, could not stop laughing at her antics. She is big chested and full of self-confidence. We are both immigrants to this wonderful country. I came from Asia and she came from South America.
She was the type of person I would imagine a big brother would be, often pushing me for no reason or throwing something at me when I'm not expecting it, never to harm, only to break me out of my serious or focused demeanor.
Many years ago we had the opportunity to travel together for a one day continuing education class for our profession to Oakland. We were both so excited, I was married, but the marriage was not sexually satisfying for either of us. (This marriage eventually failed.) Delores was also married.
We went to Oakland and laughed it up. We shared a hotel and a king size bed. Delores was excited and having so much fun. After a night of sightseeing and dinner in the Bay area, we went back to our hotel room. Delores put on a long nightie and I wore pajamas, which I wore, even at home. We were in bed watching television, when, out of nowhere, she started tickling me. I'm very ticklish and don't like to be tickled. Delores knew this. I told her to stop tickling me, through my laughter. This only encouraged her and she rolled over to hold me down. She is taller than I am and weighed more than my 102 pounds, at the time. She straddled me and I twisted and turned to get her off of me, laughing and saying, "Stop it, you dummy!" (I hate the word bitch, so like the prude I've been, I refused to call her a bitch even in a playful sense.)
She stopped, and held my arms down as she straddled me. I looked down and noticed that she was not wearing any underwear. The twisting and tickling made me hot, but I could feel the heat from her vagina on my belly. Out of breath I said, "Are you done?!"
She looked at me and said, "No!" and began tickling my under arms, while now completely lying on top of me.
"Stop!" I said through my laughter. I hate being tickled, but she is my friend and I can't be mad at her. She could see in my face that I was serious about her not tickling me. She got up and I said, "You're so stupid!" with a smile and a huff.
We watched a little more television and called it a night. I turned on my side, away from her, to sleep. I wanted to know if she had been wet when she was tickling me. I slid my fingers down my top and found a snail trail. I had never thought about sex with a woman. Sure, women are beautiful and as a woman you always check out the competition. This was years ago when guys were still calling each other "fags" at work with impunity as an insult to their masculinity. People kept this behavior in the closet at our work and we did not know of any lesbians at our office. Delores and I never discussed lesbianism or bisexuality.
In my culture, we cannot have sex outside of marriage; we were only to have sex with your husband, whenever he wants it; masturbation did not happen and same sex intercourse would lead to sever punishment and likely death in the countries I had grown up. Needless to say, the thought of me having sex with a woman was never on the table.
Delores laid next to me at night and I could feel her warm back and feet occasionally touched my body. I found it really nice.
The next day we went to the class and sat in the back. We talked so much that the instructor stopped and eyed us a couple of times. I could not tell you one topic that was covered that day. We went home.
When I got home my husband was there. He was a good friend and that is probably where it should have ended, but culturally our parents met and agreed that the marriage between us would be a good one and, so we were married. We went to bed. My husband fell asleep pretty quick, evident by his snoring. I was up thinking about Delores. I wondered if I made a mistake, should I have tickled her back and see what developed? I was wearing the same pajama top from the prior night. I unbuttoned it and pulled the part where her trail and been. I smelled it. I liked the smell and it got me aroused.
Since you don't know me personally, I will tell you the truth, I wanted to know how it tastes. I put the tip of my tongue out and there was a little bit on there, which I found arousing, but not worth the felling of little cotton fibers on my tongue from my top.
I tossed and turned remembering this big tittied woman lying on top of me and the thought of her bush that I got a glimpse of that night. Stupid, right? I'm a woman. I have tits, big ones, and I have pubes, why was I excited by this?
I turned on to my stomach and placed my hands under me by my stomach. I reached down my pajama bottoms to my pubes. I listened to confirm my husband was still sleeping and he was. I slid my right hand all the way down to my vagina, over my panties. It is not as if I have never masturbated, but I had this guilt and felling of shame after. It's hard to explain to people who have grown up in the west. I did not share this with anyone, even my husband.
I did not want to get caught, first for the embarrassment of my husband knowing I masturbate. Second, I did not want him thinking I wanted sex from him, because I didn't. Third, I did not want to explain what thoughts were on my mind, if I were caught.
My middle finger was directly over my slit. I could feel the moisture of my natural lube. I wanted to know how my smell differed from hers. I pulled my right hand up to my face slowly and without moving the bed. I took the finger to my nose. The smell was slightly different and this made me even more excited. I slowly worked my way down to my pussy. I cupped my vagina with my right hand, just to make sure that I could play it off if my husband woke up. I used my index finger and ring finger to spread my lips a bit and slid my middle finger into that sweet well. I made a few small circles around the hole, gathering my lube and thought, "I don't get this wet when I have sex with my husband and this is all a result of thinking about Delores. What is wrong with me?!" I stopped, this was not right.
I pulled my hand up and turned on my side away from my husband in an effort to go to sleep. I should not be getting more excited about recalling being tickled by a woman, then thinking about my husband! I've fantasized about this well-built Asian actor, who I think is gorgeous, but my vagina has never been wet because of it. I let out a frustrated sigh. I then worried I might wake up my husband.
No, snoring like a wildebeest.
Would she have kissed me? Is she trying to seduce me? She's married! I'm married! I'm reading too much into this. Though, I could see her nipples through her nightie. They were bigger than mine. I could not tell the color..."Aysha, what are you doing to yourself?! Stop it!"
I changed my thoughts to what I had to do at work the next day. I bet you she wears that low cut blouse that shows her cleavage. I bet she will wear that black bra with the lace across the top that is seen over the top of the blouse. I realized my hand as back on my vagina. "Ahh", I have to get to sleep. Maybe if I just cum I can fall asleep. I had to avoid being caught. I laid back on my stomach. I reached back in my pajama bottoms and into my panties. I wished, at a time like this, I was more like Delores and could sleep bottomless. I worked my middle finger in and out of vagina. The elastic of the panties made the panties even tighter.
I was wetter than I think I have ever been in my life. I wondered what would have happened if I had just kissed her neck when she was laying on top of me. Her hair would have been covering my face. I could have played it off if she became weirded out by it. I could have reached up and squeezed those big melons, "I was just trying to tickle you back, sorry." I moved my left hand up to my left tit and began to enjoy the feel of the breast in my hand, not focusing on the pleasure my breasts get from being fondled. I wanted to think about how a woman's breast in my hand would feel. I imagine that Delores took her tickling a little further, that she had used her hand to tickle my inner thigh and then my vagina. If I had just closed my eyes, and not told her to stop in a stern way, she would have just "tickled" my clit. I began to use my middle and index finger on my clit, back and forth as I laid on my stomach.
No, she would have moved those fingers in and out of me. I began to move my two fingers in and out of my vagina spreading the walls. This cavity, is more excited by "her" two fingers than it has ever been for a penis. Oh, God, I was really getting wet. I did not want it to be so obvious if my husband saw my clothes. So frustrating! I brought my middle finger back to my clit and began to move left and right like an electric toothbrush. I'm sure her tongue..."Ah, ahh, ahhhh," I expressed into the bed. I came. Please don't be awake, please don't be away.
I listened and there was no snoring! I stayed motionless. I tried not to breath. I wanted my beating heart to calm down. I was afraid to look over and see his face staring at me. After what seemed like forever, which was about 90 seconds, I slowing turned my head towards my husband and he appeared to be asleep.
