I was having marital issues and was at a friend's house, having drinks and commiserating about husbands and their flaws. We had been friends in school, lost touch for years while raising our families, and had reconnected about 5 years ago. Our paths were amazingly similar in some ways and so different in others.
It was an enjoyable, relaxing, no stress night, but it was getting late. I was going to call my eldest son to pick me up as I was in no shape to drive. But my friend offered me the use of her spare room for the night if I didn't want to go home. I certainly wasn't looking forward to dealing with the million and one questions I was sure to get from my oh so loving husband. So I drunkenly took her up on her offer.
Being roughly the same size she went and got me a pair of shorts and a tank top to sleep in and pointed me to the spare room. We had both had children and weren't the skinny mini's we were in high school. Personally I think grown women should have meat on their bones, I mean, who wants to cuddle up to a bundle of sticks? Convention and that horrible BMI chart would say we were overweight. However, we are both busty and proportionately shapely, she is slightly taller than I, has long legs, and is more fit as she runs for stress relief. I am shorter, have a rounder ass, and am softer as I have found that meditative yoga does wonders for relieving my stress. There are days I feel fat and unattractive and would love to lose weight. But generally I'm OK with my looks, I get enough compliments and looks to assure me that I'm just fine the way I am. One man once told me I was lush, ha ha ha, lush, luscious, I really liked that term and have used it to describe myself more than a few times after that. But back to the story:
As I was pulling the tank top over my naked breasts she came in carrying yet another bottle of wine.
"Oh sorry," she said as she plopped onto the bed.
I laughed and said, "It's ok," as I shimmied into the shorts that were a bit on the snug side.
"I know getting to sleep is the hardest part when you're upset," she said shaking the open wine bottle at me. "So I figured I'd keep you company and get you a little drunker."
I laughed plopping onto the bed myself thinking it was nice having a friend who completely understood what you were going through.
We took turns swigging out of the bottle as she had left the wineglass on the kitchen counter. We talked about our husbands, what they liked and didn't like sexually, what we liked and didn't like, what we wanted more of and such. Joking around that she would love my husband because he loved giving oral sex, loved the way a pussy looks, feels and tastes. And how I'd love her husband as he has no problem being aggressive in the bedroom, a little spanking, hair pulling and biting. Laughing all the while.
However the drunker I got I kept noticing that she would touch my leg or arm when she talked and wondered why. Having my inhibitions lowered and being so comfortable with her I asked her.
"Well, you are a very attractive woman and I hate that you aren't feeling that way," she told me. "And, umm, don't freak out, but I find you sexy as hell."
Now I knew she and her husband had dabbled in the swinger scene trying to save their marriage years ago, but never really thought she felt anything besides friendship towards me. And from all our chatting that evening she knew I was wanting and needing more but I never considered her as my 'more' until right at that moment.
We were both laying across the bed passing the bottle back and forth so as she rose up on her elbow she was almost over me. Looking at me, she read my expression correctly and leaned down to kiss me. Oh my, what was happening? Was this OK? It sure felt OK, and this was one of my long held fantasies.
I reached up to wrap my arms around her and deepened the kiss. It felt wonderful, no scratchy mustache or goatee, just the softness of our lips. My hands roamed over her body as we kissed, from her ass, up the back of her shirt to her shoulders, back down to lift her leg over me, up the side of her leg to her waist, up higher to her breast, tweaking the nipple through her shirt, to her face.
How soft and wonderful she felt.
She broke the kiss, sat me up and slid the tank top over my head, taking hers off as well. As her breasts swung free I smiled at how similar they were to mine. While mine were slightly larger we both had more than a heavy handful with large areolas and after nursing our kids our breasts were criss crossed with light stretch marks. Victoria Secret says I'm a 36DD but up until I was properly sized I wore a 38C. You can't imagine the wonders a proper bra does, not just to the shape but the comfort of having to wear the damn thing all day. Neither of us could get away with going braless with any hopes of fitting into our clothes properly and not jiggling all other the place. I think full adult breasts with a soft droop and upturned nipples are way sexier than the firm non-jiggly teenage version we once had. But anyway, back to the story:
She pushed me back to the bed with a laugh and put her mouth on my nipple. I moaned and arched my back, it felt amazing. Knowing I didn't mind it rough when I got worked up she grabbed the tip between her teeth and pulled, which sent a shock through my body, curling my toes.
I wanted her, every part of her, I wanted to touch, feel, taste her. I wanted it all. Knowing she'd tell me if she didn't like it, I flipped her over, straddled her, loosely holding her hands over her head, and kissed her with complete abandon. Easing myself down her body I nipped her jaw, kissed her neck, shoulder, chest, until I reached her breast. Her nipple was hard, tightening her large areola, as I took it in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around it, sucked on it, flicked it with my tongue.
Mmmm, but I wanted more.
