Chapter Two - Plan of Seduction
For days afterward, I couldn't get the image of Louise's body out of my mind. It seemed almost inconceivable to me that I could have known her for as long as I did and yet still been so completely unaware of her incredibly voluptuous figure. She had somehow managed to conceal her stunningly remarkable femininity, beneath her usual frumpy wardrobe, with a perfection that was absolutely astonishing. With my male vanity and ego moderately bruised, and my curiosity sufficiently piqued, I began to watch her surreptitiously in an attempt to unravel the mystery. It was surprising to me how a casual observer, such as I had been, could be so easily misled and distracted by Louise's casually frumpish attire. I marveled at how remarkably well her choice of wardrobe managed to mask the swell of her large breasts while, at the same time, over-emphasizing the girth of her hips; an aesthetically unappealing combination to be sure.
Watching her appraisingly, as she moved about the kitchen, I couldn't detect even a hint of heaviness or sway to her bosom, and surmised that she must always wear a very restricting bra or other type of restriction. As well, the curvaceously wide and fleshy voluptuousness of her buttocks and hips, which I had so clearly discerned through her diaphanous nightgown, were totally completely masked and disguised by the unsightly and unstylish bagginess of her sweat-style pants.
Despite her seemingly flawless facade of frumpiness, which still had me shaking my head in disbelief, I had, with my own eyes, seen the stark reality of her amazing feminine pulchritude, and was forever changed by what I had seen. A seed had most definitely been planted in my subconscious that had never existed before, and, for the first time, I found myself entertaining thoughts and fantasies that were distinctly not of a platonic nature.
One afternoon, I arrived home to discover that Ross and Louise had installed a large, above ground swimming pool in their back yard. The yard was seemingly thronged with neighborhood kids, all laughing and splashing about in a carnival atmosphere. Louise stood by the pool, with one of the neighborhood mothers, chaperoning their charges. I waved a greeting to the women as I crossed the yard to the back door and did my best not to stare at Louise, who wore only a black, one-piece bathing suit. I entered the house and hurried to the family room window at the back of the house where I could watch Louise more closely without being seen.
In all the time I had known her, I had never seen Louise wear anything other than her usual baggy attire, let alone something so inherently figure-revealing as a bathing suit. Peering surreptitiously between the slats of the venetian blind, I smiled. Seeing Louise in her bathing suit overwhelmingly validated that vision of voluptuous femininity, which I had so fleetingly discerned through her nightgown. The form fitting, black stretch material of her suit dramatically revealed the true, abundant lavishness of her full figure. As well, the large, provocative swell of her bustline, and the deep cleavage revealed at the bodice, more than acknowledged the brief vision I had that night and affirmed that my imagination had not gotten the better of me. Louise looked absolutely stunning in her bathing suit. With her figure so provocatively revealed, I shook my head in awe and wonder. Even her legs, which I had never had an opportunity, thus far, to look upon closely, complimented her figure wonderfully. While her thighs and calves were, indeed, somewhat heavy, there was no denying the very appealing, and inherently feminine shapeliness, as well as a smooth, sleek appearance with nary a trace of dimpled cellulite to be seen. I watched her shamelessly, feeling my cock rising inside my pants and, for the first time, felt a genuine lust in my heart for her.
To my complete discredit, I just couldn't find, within myself, the strength and integrity to put all those shameless thoughts and emotions aside. While, for all intents and purposes, I maintained the daily image and demeanor of platonic friendship with Louise, in my heart of hearts I lusted after her wantonly.
On those nights when sleep abandoned me, my thoughts almost always turned to her. My infatuation was so great that I just could not wipe the image of her incredible breasts from my mind. I would toss and turn, replaying the revealing kitchen incident over and over in my mind and allow ever increasing fantasies of her to flow into my thoughts.
While I valued both Ross and Louise's friendship tremendously, and would never intentionally do or say anything to harm that relationship, I just couldn't deny the power of my ever increasing fantasies of Louise. More than anything I wished I might somehow find a way to be able to see her magnificent breasts again, and would often try to imagine how such an occurrence might happen, or be made to happen. Once those particular fantasies of seeing her once more began to sweep me away, I would find myself longing to experience even more than just the sight of her breasts. I so wished I could touch her breasts, to cup them in my hands and caress them. I longed to gently knead her smooth, pale flesh and experience the voluptuously sensual mass, weight and pliant resilience of her breasts. God, and what I would not have given to be able to trace her nipples with my lips and delicately circle her areolas with the tip of my tongue, and to feel her nipples become erect and take them into my mouth. Needless to say, my fantasies would almost always escalate to masturbation. I would very often reach orgasm with the penultimate fantasy of slipping my cock between her breasts plunging myself into her deliciously deep cleavage.
I can only assume, with so many of my fantasies focused so specifically upon Louise's breasts, that it must have been, in some way, a feeble attempt on my part to assuage the feelings of guilt I was experiencing. Somehow, in my mind, I rationalized that, as long as my fantasies of Louise were limited specifically to her breasts, as objects of infatuation, it was somehow more innocuous than if I were to lust after Louise herself. And, as a result, it wouldn't necessarily be such a complete betrayal of my friendship for Ross, or Louise. I treasured my friendship with both of them, they had always shown me nothing but friendship and kindness, I would have never knowingly conspired to do anything that would tarnish their marriage, nor would I ever intentionally attempt to seduce a friend's wife.
With my fantasies of her so incessant and so pleasurable, and my rationalization that the intent of my lustful focus was so predominately harmless, I actually began to seriously entertain thoughts about how I might somehow find a way to bring my fantasies more into reality. The more I thought on the matter, the more I came to believe it might actually be possible. All I would need to do, I reasoned, would be to somehow manipulate a situation or set in motion some kind of scenario to facilitate my endeavor.
I would lay awake at night and try to imagine such a scenario, or chain of events, that might lead to a fulfillment of my fantasy. Knowing Louise as well as I did, I was very aware of many of her personality traits, which I thought might handily assist me in my endeavors if ever I were to attempt to finesse some kind of manipulative scenario on her. She was, for instance, a lover of delicious gossip, and the more salacious the gossip, the more she loved it. On several occasions, when she felt that I had been somewhat less than forthcoming with details regarding something she really wanted to know, she was almost relentless in her pursuit to pry those details from me. It was often easier to just give in and tell her rather than put myself through one of her grilling sessions, which could often last for days.
A plan began to develop in the back of my mind where I might possibly let slip a tiny tidbit of information, such as a dream I had about her, to peak her interest, and then allow Louise to pry the details from me. Such a manipulative plan seemed a very innocent, and yet effective, way of disclosing the concept of my fantasy to her without actually appearing to do it deliberately. I reasoned that, once she pried the details of my fantasy from me and it was open between us, I would be able to discern and gauge her reaction and what, if any, her feelings might be. Should the details of my fantasy appear to seem at all unappealing or even abhorrent to her, I would, of course, abandon any attempts to manipulate her further and then forever keep my fantasies of her to myself.
The more I thought of the idea, the more I liked it, and I thought to myself that I would keep myself alert for a perfect moment in which to present my scenario to her. To my surprise, I didn't have to wait long for just such an opportunity.
One morning, over coffee, Louise laughed and shook her head. "I had the strangest dream about you last night." She said. "Well...not so much about you...but you were in it."
I smiled to myself, realizing that Louise herself had actually opened the door for me to attempt my manipulation. When I prompted her, she related how in the dream Ross and I were chopping down the large elm tree in their back yard and how upset she was that we had not warned her about it.
We chatted about her dream, and the strangeness of dreams in general, for several minutes and, when she was refilling my cup I judged the moment was right.
"I actually had a dream about you too." I said, sipping my coffee, "Not last night...but a couple of weeks ago."
"Yeah?" She said with a smile, "Was I cussing you out for chopping down my tree by any chance?"
I laughed, "No...nothing like that." I sipped my coffee and looked absently out the window.
"Well?" She prompted, "Aren't you going to tell me what it was about?"
"Oh." I said, feeling my heart begin to beat faster. "Well...I don't know if I should. It was kinda one of those dreams, if you know what I mean."
She smiled broadly and leaned toward me across the table. "A sex dream? Did you have a sex dream about me?"
I laughed and shrugged, wanting to appear as embarrassed as I could, knowing my embarrassment would intrigue her even more. "Well...I guess so...sort of." I said, looking away once more.
She laughed aloud. "Oh, I love those kinds of dreams, don't you? If I could I'd have them all the time."
I smiled and nodded. "Yeah...me too." I said.
"So, tell me..." She said as I lulled myself to silence and sipped my coffee, "Was I at least a half decent lay in your dream?"
I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "It wasn't...exactly like that." I said, "I mean...it wasn't an actual sex dream...I mean, we weren't actually having sex...just..."
