Author's Note: This is my third story. After having done a true story for my first, and pure fiction for my second, I decided to share a story from my own life – this story is completely true, believe it or not, and one of my fondest memories. The names, other than mine, have been changed to protect everyone's privacy.
As before, this work is given freely to any who might enjoy it, though it should be credited properly to its author. If you shouldn't be reading adult material, don't read this. Otherwise, please enjoy.
***
I pushed closer to her, my body wedging her against the wall. My free hand held her wrist over her head, pinned to the wall, as my other hand explored the soft, slick, rippling texture inside her body. Her breathing in my ear was sharp and light, punctuated by panted gasps.
One of her legs was raised, her foot braced on the opposite wall of the tiny closet just behind me. Her panties dangled from her raised ankle, and her free hand clutched the collar of my coat. Her raised leg was straining and twitching in little involuntary kicks as I pumped three fingers firmly inside her, buried deep, twisting and curling. Her other leg, barely touching the floor, twisted and groped for purchase to increase the stimulation, but uselessly – the hard tile floor was far too slippery under her shoe.
My eyes were closed. I breathed in the scent of her neck, concentrating as though I were creating a mental map of the inside of her pussy, learning every inch of it.
My thumb massaged her clit so slowly, so agonizingly slowly. I felt her breath get warmer and less steady as she buried her face in my neck, her gasps breaking apart. The silk of her hair against my neck and ear only got me hotter, and I ground my hand into her, my eyes fluttering as I listened to her try to speak, able to form only broken words in my ear.
I had never done something like this. How had I gotten here?
***
So, who am I, and who was this girl? Well, let's start with me. The girl, on the other hand, will take some explanation. After all, this story is about me, even though I'm telling it for her.
I'm a petite woman, standing about 5'3. If I weren't in good shape, I'd be skinny. My hair is a naturally light red – I've worn it at many different lengths, but at this time in my life, about ten years ago in my early twenties, I wore it feathery short – almost a pixie-cut, fluttering around my ears and neck.
My breasts are small, but round. My hips are narrow and my legs long, while my shoulders are narrow but relatively square. My eyes are a pale green – I'm told they sparkle, whatever that means. The things we tell each other.
I've always known I'm bisexual – when I was a teenager, I didn't fantasize about the attractive English professor, or the cute, blonde, curvy math teacher. I fantasized about my history teacher and his gorgeous wife – there's another story there, but that's not our topic for today.
At the time, I was working as a freelance writer for a little advertising firm in Seattle, where I've lived all my life. It was crummy work, but it paid decent, and I've never been one to work a nine-to-five job. Most of the rest of the company hated me. I was what they wanted to be – an independent contractor who came in, got work, turned it in faster than they could have, got paid, and left.
I'd never have gotten the job if it weren't for Eleanor. Eleanor was a delightful little spitfire of a woman, tough, smart, clever, and bitchy as hell when things weren't exactly the way she wanted them. She and I got along fine – I'd lost my parents in middle school, and she'd filled in the female role model I still needed at that point in my life. Eleanor had found me in college – I never graduated, I found it horribly dull – and offered me my first little bit of work, simple proofreading and editing stuff that slowly evolved into full copywriting and whatever other freelance stuff she could find. Now, the company depended on me – I did easily the work of three full-time people in less than half-time, and even though I was expensive by the hour, I still saved them a fortune.
That leads us to the beginning of our story – on this particular Saturday, I woke to the feeling of a finger gently stroking the outer curve of my ear. Slowly, things filtered into my mind, other sensations. The feeling of sheets on my bare skin. Warm, soft flesh against my back, filled in by my memory as a familiar pair of full breasts.
My friend Kat and I had been sleeping together for a couple of weeks. We weren't a couple, by any means. We met in high school, and from time to time over the years, when neither of us had anyone and we got lonely enough, we'd end up together for a while. It was safe and comfortable – we trusted each other too much to hurt each other over it – and the sex between us was always fantastic, since we both knew what we liked and were comfortable enough with each other to just enjoy it.
For whatever reason, she always woke before me in the mornings, and when we slept together, I always woke to one of two sensations. A kiss on my neck and a long hug, followed by her slipping out of bed and toward the bathroom; or this light stroking of my ear, which meant she didn't want to get out of bed quite yet.
This morning, feeling that stroking, I sighed to let her know I was awake. Then, instead of feeling her hands wandering over me as I usually did on these mornings, I heard her voice softly in my ear.
"You okay, babe?"
I half-rolled to face her, smiling the little half-smile everyone knows is my real one. "Yeah, not too bad."
"Good." She leaned over to kiss me. One kiss became several, and just as I was starting to heat up, her hand stroked my thigh and up over my mound, and I jumped. Kat usually went much slower.
"No, no, girl," she murmured against my lips. "Not today." Her hand stroked again, found the spots that really made me squirm, and within thirty seconds, she had me writhing under her, panting into her neck, my hands gripping at her, the sheets, and the headboard – anything I could reach to get leverage to press against that hand. She made me come faster than I could ever remember climaxing before, so fast that it actually startled me when it hit, listening to her murmured encouragements in my ear as my hips bucked out of control and I cried out her name.
"Good girl," she whispered, and started to pull away, but I was having none of that. I rolled her on her back and held her down, growling – I'm not a dominant girl, but I'm persistent when I want something.
She laughed, trying to fend me off. "No, no, Jess, it's okay, I'm okay, ahhhh..." That last sound wasn't voluntary, and accompanied by an arch in her back caused by my thumbs swirling on her nipples. I knew her weaknesses too. "It's really okay," she muttered weakly.
"No, it's not," I whispered back, and I think my voice was just a bit scratchy and emotional, because she stopped fighting and kissed me hard, pulling my mind back to her. I didn't need any more encouragement – I slid down her body, and felt her thighs slide eagerly over my shoulders.
I spent the next half-hour very slowly eating Kat out of her mind – a hobby for which you know, if you've read anything I've written before, I have an absolute passion.
When she was finally done squealing and begging, I left her lying, in a panting, sweaty heap, on the bed and hurried into the bathroom to shower – I'd caught sight of the alarm clock, and it was almost nine. I had somewhere I needed to be at ten.
By the time I got out of the shower and was standing at the vanity in my underwear, brushing my hair, Kat came up behind me, still nude, and hugged me. "Sure you don't want me to come along?" She asked.
"No, don't worry about it," I shook my head. "You'll be bored out of your mind, and half the people there hate you."
She laughed. "Yeah, but I'd still go if you needed me."
I turned my head to kiss her before wriggling into my best black silk blouse and black trousers. "I know you would. Don't worry. I'll be fine. Jill will be there too."
Kat smirked. "She'll owe me fifty bucks when you show up."
I glanced back at her. "You're not the only one – I'm sure no one thinks I'll be there."
She ruffled my hair and wandered away to find some clothes, since she would be heading to work shortly after I left her place.
I ended up being just a few minutes late, but it didn't matter – the place that was taking care of the event was smart enough to start late.
Heading inside, a few polite employees waved me into the lovely inner room – all wood paneling, thick carpet, and velvet draperies. More formal than I would have chosen, but...
"Jessica!"
I turned at my name, running a hand through my hair, straightening my collar as I headed over. "Hey, Jill."
