"I've wanted to fuck you for years now," Chelsea sighed, tension melting from her chest and shoulders as the words slipped out of her mouth. It felt so good to release the weight of that secret, to let all those filters and barriers collapse and tell Amy everything that had been on her mind for so long. It was the most liberating sensation she could possibly imagine, and just getting it out into the open at last made her whole body sag into the couch cushions with delightful, soothing relaxation. She wasn't worried about what Amy would say at all. She wasn't worried about anything.
She just kept talking, spilling her secrets in a loose, sleepy monotone that made her sound ever so slightly stoned. "Ever since that trip to New Orleans, when you went off with that guy and his girlfriend and told me not to wait up for you. I spent the whole night wondering what you were doing, whether you were kissing her pussy the same way you kissed her lips back at the bar, and I spent the rest of the trip sneaking glances every time you raised your shirt to get beads. I... I think about you a lot, Ames. I probably masturbate two, three times a week remembering your tits."
The hitch in her breath almost sounded like hesitation, but Chelsea knew better. She could feel the furtive intensity of all those masturbation sessions, dripping lazily into her mind like the slow feed of an intravenous drug and concentrating that stoned, sleepy feeling that flooded her brain and made it so easy to let the words spill out. "You've got such amazing boobs, Amy. It's why I always suggest things like hot tubbing and pool parties and trips to the beach. I know you're going to wear one of those tight little bikinis that show the edges of your big pink nipples and I can jill off at the end of the night thinking about you."
It was a little strange when Chelsea thought about it, this sudden urge to confess all of her deep, hidden feelings to her oldest friend. So she didn't. It was really easy not to think about things when she could feel Amy's finger on her forehead, constantly tracing a slow, sleepy spiral around and around on her warm, sensitive skin. Trailing all the way in... and then all the way out. All Chelsea had to do was focus on the motion of the finger and let the words flow past her lips. Everything else could become dim and distant and unimportant. She smiled, so happy that she was so good at... at...
"Sometimes I daydream about being tied up," Chelsea blurted out, the revelation bursting in her brain with a pleasure that wiped away all her other thoughts in a wave of pure, undiluted ecstasy. "When we all found out you were going to Boston to visit a kink convention, and Melanie and Laura were making all those jokes about leather and whips and stuff, I didn't say anything because I thought you'd be able to hear my voice crack. But I think a, a lot about being made... helpless. Bound with my legs behind my head and my cunt exposed. M-most of the time it's you doing the tying."
She sighed again, her thoughts dissolving even further into peace and pleasure as each secret finally escaped the recesses of her innermost fantasies. She didn't know why she hadn't said anything sooner. Of course Amy wasn't shocked or repelled or horrified by Chelsea's desires. She shared them all herself. All those fears that Chelsea was too fat or too short or the wrong color were just her own self-doubts messing with her, and there was no judgment in her friend's gentle, soothing touch. Only soft, warm relaxation and... and...
