A few years ago, Roger and I lived right next door to our best friends, Mike and Darla. She and I had grown up together. We were soul sisters, as embarrassing as it is to say now, we even called ourselves "Team Double Dee" (DD) She towers over my 5'6" frame by almost half a foot, but with Darla you'll find her most striking feature to be her hair naturally colored as a Royal Sunset Lilly. A rare forest flower beautifully colored by nature in a deep red hue contrasted by whispering streaks of blonde; this flower was known to give artist reason for pause. For me it visually depicted her alternating Sub\Dom personality that only I was allowed to know.
With Darla those streaks of blonde, backed in deep red lay in sharp contrast to her forest green eyes on a nearly unblemished canvas of pale skin. Beautiful elven like qualities of elongated and narrow features shaped her canvas imparting a surreal and almost noble look. Her round green eyes surrounded by lightly colored freckles, offered a depth of character.
Tracing a winding path through the few freckles painted on that canvas, my eyes can walk me into her forest of thought. Many times in my life I have ran there to hide from the world. When she was not in my presence, and I needed sanctuary; I closed my eyes and let my mind take me there. For me, her eyes were always opened; a doorway to her magical forest. I could always joyfully find myself lost there without ever a need to return.
We are kindred spirits, perfectly at home and perfectly welcomed in each other's minds.
We were each other's first love. Most everything about sex I learned through or with her. From our first sexual experience that we shared together, we continued that sharing from youthful ignorance to now. We were fortunate enough to have an unusually strong connection in both our sexual lives and our friendship.
Every sexual button I had, she was the one to introduce me too. Through her I discovered my sexual identity and her companionship helped shape and build myself as an individual. We've enjoyed this never ending relationship throughout our lives without regard to promises of commitment to other people.
Darla knew how to manipulate my body, eliciting the responses she wanted. She could look and speak to me in a way that would bring out my rare sexually aggressive dominant side. She could touch, pinch, or pull my buttons in certain ways to bring out my submissive side.
It's been stated that human sexuality is like a gemstone with many faucets, she knows just how to expose this gemstone to the light and make it look like anything she wants. She is a master artist at manipulating my mind and my body. If she put her mind to it; or Heaven forbid, had chance to plan for it, there was no end to what she could manipulate me into doing; an artist plying her craft. The stories could go on forever about the outlandish scenarios her mental lapidary has lead me into over the years. We never had denied each other of anything, and a lot had been asked for over the years.
No one knew about this relationship, we've kept our secrets hidden well, all the while, holding no secrets between ourselves.
Team DD always!
I didn't really like Mike and she knew that. I never did and couldn't really explain why, but I put up with him because of her. He was a pudgy built excuse of a man. A fattened rounded face with deep set unremarkable eyes that could only reflect his shallow character. All this, set atop a body that could only be built by playing video games and eating fast food. If I were her kindred spirit, who the hell was this fuck? Evidently a friend by proxy. Even with as well as I knew her I couldn't figure out why she was with him. Ascetically speaking he just didn't belong in her picture. He was the evil ogre trying to enter my magical forest.
Being friends we tried to go out every Friday night but the last two weeks Roger, my husband, was unable to make it because of work. This Friday however was Mike's birthday. "Didn't have a minute to spare on buying a present" was my boilerplate excuse. I figured that it was okay because we were friends, right? At least by proxy! Why would not getting a present be an issue?
When I arrived at their house we met with the usual hugs. We started to celebrate his birthday by drinking some wine. Since it was homemade I didn't realize how strong it was. The effects of the red Italian brew seized me long before either Darla or Mike. After a little piece of Velvet cake it was time for the presents.
"Shit!" A twinge of guilt ran through my body.
Fancying himself as an amateur photographer, Darla's present was spot on, a camera and tripod. Mike looked over to me presumptively and asked what I had for his present.
I started to blush and spoke only with a mumbled "um um...." but in all the wine I lost my prepackaged excuse. Embarrassed at my lack of words for the moment, I just sat there confused. Still in my defense I'm sure it was because my head was spinning from the wine. I couldn't think of what to say.
Darla picked up on this embarrassment and got an evil wicked grin on her face, turning to look at Mike, she said almost jokingly that I could be his first nude model. I froze. I thought for sure she meant that as a joke, but then she turned to Mike and in a serious tone told him to go fix the bedroom up as the studio.
I started to protest, but the wine induced confusion did not allow me to actually voice it. Why was she so pissed at me? Over a present? I stood up, I started saying "I'm not going to get naked in front of him, I don't even like him". The thought of being on display for him was too much. "I couldn't strip in for Mike; what would Roger say?" "Pictures are forever and I don't want Mike to have nude ones of me. You know how I feel about that ogre".
Angrily Darla stepped up to me, face-to-face, her nose was almost touching mine. When she spoke, I could feel her breath against my cheeks. Reaching both hands into my front pockets she pulled my hips towards hers. On her exhales the waft of Diego Red stole my breath. She told me I had been mistaken. I was to be more than just a nude model that night. She removed her hands, sliding them up to my breast, cupping and raising, gently kneading them. She was pushing those emotional buttons she introduced me too.
Oh, shit! I exclaimed with an exhale. I loved this girl. I would do anything for her. But damn, pictures are forever and dickhead would have them.
As she caressed my breast she reminded me of how last week at the bar, in Rogers's absence, I made the offhand remark that I would go down on him. She knew that I had incredibly sensitive nipples; she knew exactly where they hid underneath my bra and sweater. Her hands rose to them and she started to playfully squeeze them.
I didn't know where she was going with this. Skilled in a secret craft learned on me, holding me as her gemstone applying her lapidary skills to an end that only the artist knew, she started to shape her gemstone into whatever she wanted. Nervous, I could feel myself starting to shake; I could physically feel my throat constricting making it harder for me to breathe. Anxiety forced me to inhale through stuttered breaths.
She not only could feel it, she recognized it as shaping her gemstone.
I recognized it as the artist plying her craft.
