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Chapter 1: Reuniting I faintly remember coming to this house thirty something years ago for play dates when I was allowed and then a few times with my mother to visit during the holidays and different occasions, but I never realized her family called this side entrance the “back” door. Karen did say over the phone to come to the back door near the driveway. And she was right about the front door having too much snow in front of it. She must struggle to handle such a hefty house all alone, never mind shoveling all these storms we have had this winter. I guess she is lucky she doesn’t have to shovel the snow all the way around the back. It’s been an unfriendly month, relentless with early season snow. Who thought up this plan? I bitched nervously to myself as I balanced and teetered through solid mounds of what must have been the mailman’s large, frozen footprints, which left little grip for my boots. The back door is on the front of the house. How strange I thought anxiously, as I pulled myself up the icy cement stairs, clutching the veneer of rust on the iron rail with my bare hand hopeful not to cut myself. My other hand struggled to both grip the chardonnay securely and ring the doorbell. Frozen fingers held on tight as I looked at my reflection in the glass and pushed the bell. She answered in a split second, with a huge smile. I have not seen Karen in almost seven years, since her mother died and left her this lengthy, blue house with two front doors, today covered in a mass of ice. She might have been better off if, rather than the wine, I brought her a bag of rock salt, I sneered cat-like. I get that way when I’m beyond my comfort zone. I could feel the rush of heat escaping through the mudroom as I thoughtfully stepped onto her throw rug so as not to wet the floor. She looked good; better than her shadowy Facebook picture I studied last night. “It is so good to see you, Cassie,” she said on an exhale, raising her tenor, stretching the words “see you” into their own decree. Squeezing me in a loving bear hug, her form felt warm; it felt right, like friends should. I kissed her cheek and noticed the youth was still in her skin. We held onto each other for a second or two, just looking. What a pretty smile she has after all these years. She always had that smile. Her typical, run-of-the-mill features turned to stunning with a simple smile. Strangely, middle age has improved her; and her 42 year old grin barely looks a day over 35 and still looks bright as the untouched snow on her front steps. “I love your sweater,” I commented as my hands lingered on her solid wrists. Soft! “JC Penny,” she said, still wide-eyed from my entrance. “I got a gift card for Christmas. I just got it today. Day after Christmas shopping is a hoot. Come in.” I kicked off by boots and hung my coat on the striking country-green rack as we stumbled around one another politely in the small mudroom, which is connected to her dated kitchen with the same checkerboard linoleum floor we ran across as kids; faded and worn from the years. With no family left, the house seemed too big. What must have been Karen’s most essential shoes lined the floor near the back door. Just her coat hung aside mine on the long rack. Lonely, I thought. Nicer artwork adorned the walls, however, Real paintings, not prints, striking portraits and landscapes in all sizes, and a lot of them. I followed Karen’s lead, walking through the narrow hall, past the bathroom on the right, to the big living room at the end of the house. I smiled as the map of her dwelling came back to me with profound memories. “Aren’t you sick of Christmas music, yet? It is almost January,” I kidded, noticing her TV was playing yet another wearisome, droning Christmas special. “I started hearing holiday music on the radio in November. It’s everywhere this year. I am so sick of it,”I nagged for no other reason than to create conversation. “Christmas was yesterday, silly. I like it,” Karen said blushing. Her renowned smile surrounded by smooth, pink cheeks with the slightest laugh lines forming on her otherwise flawless face. She turned down the TV, but left it on to flicker light against her shimmering holiday decorations, likely to help occupy some of the room with us. Karen stepped out to the kitchen for just a second to grab some glasses and a corkscrew as I made myself comfortable. She poured freely, filling my glass near the top, as we small talked for a while, mostly about my teaching career and her flower shop business, until the warmth of the wine set in. “It must be so nice to have all this time off, Cassie,” Karen said kindly yet with a tone of envy. “No doubt the time off is nice. “When do you go back for the spring semester?” “January 20 th,”I admitted, looking down at my glass. “Being a college professor is difficult work, but I have found nobody outside my own walls understands that. Most people look at the summers off, spring break, and Christmas recess and think that’s all there is. But the research and the never ending preparation, coupled with meeting the needs of the students and building new innovative programs and all the committee work; it’s tiring.” “Well professor, how about some more wine?” She clanked my glass against the bottle. Karen’s face turned gloomy when she noticed me looking at the photo of her late mother. Her mom was always so nice to me even though our mothers never spoke. Funny, they were close friends at one time, then poof. Something happened between them that neither of us knew. Their sudden shared hatred kept Karen and me apart for many years; although we lived just miles away. Our friendship through high school never wavered but we weren’t allowed to visit each other beyond the school walls, by that point. Karen went off to the University of New Hampshire creating more distance and we lost touch completely when I got married a few years after college. Sad we missed so many years, I thought. This is so nice. Ringing and toasting to the holidays and to friendship, our topics became more interesting as the bottle emptied; thought provoking, and more personal. “How is life after the divorce?” she dared to finally probe, but I didn’t mind. “Lonely, secluded mostly,” I answered honestly. “Horny too, I bet,” she proclaimed abruptly with her smile saving the shame. She always was the outgoing one. “More wine?” she wailed, and almost knocked my glass over filling it. We laughed güvenilir bahis heavily, leaning into each other, our foreheads met and she hugged me again. “I’m lonely, too” she confessed. My divorce was a matter of fact to me, but to others not so. Divorce always leaves a trail of debris. I was married a total of eight years, three months, and twenty three days, to a man who never once told me the truth. It was a play known as the myriad of lies, deception, and infidelity; me starring in the role of the victim, he the scoundrel. I repressed all my energies through those years, giving and allowing him to flourish while I floundered in weight gain, and solitude. I lost my friends; nearly my career. I ceased living only to become his trophy housewife, a blowjob with legs and a spatula. Our life together was never happy. The hostage’s life style was not for me. The fact that we made it as long as we did is a marvel. I would have done another ten years if I had kids; I would have for them; I’m just sure of it. But no kids, no pets, no attraction, and no strings made it uncomplicated to cut. Karen soothed me with a soft, lingering hug as we talked about my break up. The night was wearing on, and the wine turned into rum with a hint of Diet Coke. There was no chance of me reclaiming my car keys at this point. Besides, I felt completely comfortable with my old friend in her warm house, just like so many years ago. The memories and the jokes and the witticisms, and the booze; then suddenly, in one of those deadly, muted moments of absolute silence during a stretched conversation, even the faint murmur of the TV had temporarily hushed as if it was planned, but certainly it was not, I did the most ungodly, humiliating thing a woman can do in public. I leaned my head back, my jaw hung unbolted and from the depth of my paunch I released a lengthy and profound, baritone belch; a loud and hasty and horrible, open-mouth eruption, all my bubbles flushed and sounded out, like a tuba screaming one note. I was immobilized with my hand covering my mouth; Karen froze, too, her face showed surprise in the stillness of the embarrassing aftermath. Then abruptly Karen broke out in hysteria. She roared backward, lunging then she immediately and uncontrollably flung her tanked-up body down into my lap, where she began to recoup a bit. “Cassandra Keane!” Karen scolded me; a motherly bark of my full name. I liked hearing it. I felt my identity returning to my soul. We laughed until our sides hurt, rolling around like puppies on the couch. “Oh, shit! I haven’t had this much fun in years,” Karen said, wiping her eyes from the laughter. “We need to calm down,”I scolded her with a drunken smile. “And you need to stop belching like a truck driver or I might die, right here laying on you,” she warned. I instinctively rubbed the back of her soft Christmas sweater.Chapter 2: Breaking new ground “Want to watch a movie?” she asked still laughing, as she wrenched herself off of me and began to flip through the channels. She kicked off her white sneakers and kicked them to the ground. Our feet met in the middle of the couch; me on one end, Karen on the other. “I don’t know if I can stay awake through a whole movie, Karen.” She looked at me, glaring at me in her drunkenness. “Oh I’ll keep you awake,” she said, pushing at my legs with her stocking feet. I did the same. It felt so good to stretch after sitting curled up for so long. We stretched together, with our toes straining to out due the other. I pushed; she pushed, like a tug of war for the clinically intoxicated. Her foot nestled my inseam and under my butt for just a moment during her longest stretch, as if she was challenging me to a duel. I did the same right back. Unrelentingly, our battle wore on. We pushed and pressed on each other’s crotch for several strange minutes, forgetting all about the television, until I finally gave in. “I quit.” I smiled and brought my head backward to the cushion.”You won this battle,” I announced with a dreamy slur to my voice. Karen stretched her legs out fully, claiming the victory, taking her captured space, and continued to push back on my legs until her big toe inside her thick, white sock was pressed firmly against my heated crotch. Without a word, she slowly ground her foot again my pubic bone, which was protected by only the thickness of my jeans. I rested my head back, taking it all in. I felt tingles moving through me. Over and over she surged her toe with a plunging effect, and it was driving me nuts. My friend is trying to get me off, I thought. This is messed up. I pushed back against the arm of the sofa, forcing my crotch down harder to her foot. I peeked down the length of the couch and saw Karen’s head leaning back like mine was, as her foot was making slow circles on my pussy. Then suddenly in the dead silence, during one of those awkward moments foot fucking with your girlfriend has, Karen blurted in a funny voice so as to mask the ominous question, as if it were a joke, “Want me to eat you, Cassie?” She stared at me so straightforwardly, so seriously, despite the cutesy voice, as if she was at the Dunkin Donuts drive through, asking for extra Equal.“Um ya, I’d like a large decaf with cream and five equal, and do you want me to eat you?” Did she just ask me if it was okay to eat me? Fuck! Again I froze for just a split second or two or ten, in the room’s uncooperative hush. “Yes,” I exhaled a whisper, confused in a dream, without rationalizing what was going on. She moved up quickly, flipping her body over not wanting to miss this open door, and her hands got busy unbuttoning my jeans. I heaved and wiggled and she tugged and pulled. All the while we maintained strict eye contact. My buckle didn’t quite make it past my ankles when I felt her fingers prying the edge of my cotton panties aside, as she buried her tongue in me. Oh my God! No dancing around, just so deep. I can’t remember ever being so turned on. She lapped at me with the full width of her thick, flat tongue. She coated all of my pussy with her mouth, taking in my scent with all of her wits, eyes tightly shut. She worked like a professional, digging her hot tongue into me, with a confident and famished force. Her mouth shielded my pussy with a tight seal, and she sucked my outer lips into her mouth, while she explored me deeply. She just drew my nectar full open mouth, cavernously, with a hum that sang güvenilir bahis siteleri a beautiful song I have never heard. Karen’s curly and twisted blonde hair hid her face as it worked on me, but I could feel her mouth moving from side to side, and I could see her head shifting left then right and up through my thick pubic hair and down to my ass, forcing her nose into me at times. I sat up a bit and held her head snug to my pussy with my right hand as my large clit began to pulse. My left hand dug down through the disarray and roamed under the neck of her new Christmas sweater and found her breast. I squeezed her tit, feeling her swollen nipple on my palm, as she sent me into orbit. My hips were springing up off the couch, pushing back hard, riding her concealed face. I held a full breath, my pussy puffed and pulsed once, twice. “Ah My GOD,” I squealed, and I climaxed right into her mouth. Karen’s ruthless tongue slowed but didn’t stop. She began to carefully and precisely kiss my pussy lips, sucking each one gently into her puckered lips, like a mother cleaning her cub. Without pause, she licked just the side of my swollen clit so tenderly, so deliberately, in small unhurried circles, just as she did with her stocking foot a few minutes ago; kisses softly left to fade down below, just her breath was left for me to savior. I opened my eyes and flopped back to earth. I broke the painful silence. “That was really good,” I wheezed with embarrassment, gasping for air. Karen looked up at me with caution and obvious attentiveness. Her dripping wet smile glistened in the light of the TV. “Have you ever done this before?” she asked with a worried tone. “No,” I shot out, “have you?” “Maybe, a little, once or so, yes, you taste so good,” she stumbled using her funny voice again, and broke eye contact, wiping her open mouth with the back of her fingers, while my hand was motionless, still holding her tit. We both settled back into our original positions on the couch; only this time my pants were off and my panties were soaked. I just came on my friend’s face, I thought as I swigged my drink, staring into Karen’s eyes. Without rupturing eye contact, I picked up the yellow pillow that had fallen off the couch during our impromptu oral, and covered my wetness with it. “Are you cold?” “No,” I answered quickly and awkwardly without thinking. We sat and glared. “What? Say something.” She smirked at my frozen face, silently begging and pleading for me to speak. “I need to go pee,” was all I could muster, and with a polite smile, I slid my naked legs past her and onto the floor; wobbly from the alcohol and the unexpected orgasm. I seized my pants and stammered off to the bathroom, while Karen, no doubt, got a good show of my bottom side. I shut the bathroom door and looked straight into the mirror, holding on to the counter for dear life. My face drooped as I inspected and scrutinized my post lesbian experience look. Soundlessly and deliberately I watched my reflection mouth the words what-the-fuck as if it wasn’t really me. My jaw stuck wide open while thoughts fluttered around my head. Who am I? I’ve never in my life; my friend, oh my God, it was so good. I ran the cold water and splashed my face seeking soberness, and an escape hatch. The woman in the mirror was worried. What will she think of me, was all I could assemble in the chaos going on in my mind. I paced the tiny floor, back and forth, and then I flushed the toilet for no better reason than to buy myself another few seconds. Still holding my pants with the same hand that caressed her tit, Karen knocked on the door. “You OK?” “Yes,” I replied, again with an awkward quickness. “You’ve been in there a long time, want to come out and talk?” “Almost finished,” I lied as I brushed back my hair behind my ears. “I think they call that the walk of shame.” “What?” I pleaded through the wall. Karen slowly turned the knob and opened the door a crack. “Walk of shame,” she stated with a devious grin. “You know in college, when you have to run down the hall naked after sex.” “I wasn’t running,” I said with a smile. Karen’s silliness broke the tension. She eased in the bathroom with me. We stared at each other like teenagers and beamed. “You know,” I whispered softly, purposely attempting to re-light her fire. “You know, those two girls in the mirror are watching you look at me.” I liked her reaction to my soft voice. Karen’s eyes widened with excitement. Without warning, without authorization, Karen leaned into me and kissed my closed mouth. I inclined backward as she pushed. “You’re really hot Cassie. You taste so…” she paused to kiss “Good, oh Goddamn good,” she said fading into a quiet whisper only meant for me. Our lips squished together, her tongue worked side to side under my lower lip; our teeth clanked, void of grace. I was kissing another woman and it was bumpy and jarring like new kisses sometimes are. I could feel her fingers roaming my face, as I began to lean in and kiss back. My thoughts were out of control; my mind started to race: I never kissed a girl before. Was this really happening? I never knew lips could be so soft. She is perfect. She’s my friend. No one can ever find out. What should I do? She is so warm, and smells so good. Oh, her hair. I just came on her mouth in her fucking living room. I can taste myself. Holy shit I can taste myself! Our dance in the small bathroom became obsessive. Unfamiliar hands were finding new-fangled toys. Karen held my head tightly as I threw caution to the wind and traced the plump sides of her lovely breasts. Our mouths locked in place; moaning into the hollow of each other’s souls; singing the song we had just written moments ago. Her right hand roamed my back so delicately, so tenderly, perfectly and magically arousing my nipples all the way around the other side of my body. Her braveness seemed to have no limit. Karen’s fingers, oh her soft, velvety fingers worked on my freckled shoulders under my blouse, up and down my spine, as we kissed with unbreakable, brutal force. She began working wizardry on the tight elastic of my panties; shimming them down over my hips until they fell, lifelessly to the cold tile floor. Unexpectedly she broke our embrace, sunk her head swiftly, clutching my midriff as she balanced on the toilet seat and pulled my soft belly to her face. She licked around my belly button with thoughtful swipes. I iddaa siteleri raised my body on tippy toes and pushed downward with only one purpose in mind, to deliver my gift directly to her famished mouth. Lost in the moment, I ground my hips in deep, unhurried undulations. I could hear Karen’s muffled moan through my thick, brown pubic hair as she hid her tongue inside me once again. I couldn’t take another second of this madness. I held on to her cheeks with both hands moving her skull up and down in rhythm as she ate me. “I need to lie down,”I commanded in a harsh whisper. My legs weakened under the influence of wine and rum and lust. Karen inserted a finger in me and our eyes connected as she kissed, with her soaking wet mouth, the distinct line where my dark chestnut pubic hair meets my milky flesh. The lovely woman in front of me stood and held my hand as she silently guided me into her bedroom. Only we filled the air. No music, no television, no sound at all. In the hush and warmth of her bed we fell together like old lovers. Our practice in the other rooms had paid off. We locked in a soundless kiss as we peeled each other’s clothing. Rolling about the bed lip locked, I ended up on top and began to devour my first breast. Her nipple, as big as the tip of my thumb; a beautiful tight knot holding her large and dark areola in place, filled my mouth. Her spongy breast covered much of my face as I sucked, pleasing my pallet like never before. Oh, this was certainly a delicacy I waited way too long to enjoy. My left hand found her sweet spot, as I sucked her tits. My fingertips danced through her reedy wet fur. Karen spread her legs wide, allowing me carte blanche. She was extremely sensitive and her body shifted and contorted as I explored her beautiful mound with a ginger touch. Gradually, I slid my middle finger into Karen’s folds, surprised to feel its depth and the heat of another woman. It was sucking me in. Her wetness overwhelmed my single finger, so I eased in another all the way and then I pushed up and pulled back, just a bit, on the inside of her pubic bone. I had found her spot. The harder I sucked her nipple the more she groaned; the more she bucked against my hand. I was pleasing her with all my might and she loved it. Like a mad woman, Karen pulled my head to hers, threw the pillow to the floor causing a crash somewhere in the room, and moaned long and hard into my open mouth, as she came on my hand. Shattered with sexual exhaustion, we held each other, fulfilled without a worry, no care of time or place. She kissed my naked neck for several minutes and whispered, “You’re so sexy.” “So are you,” I breathed into her ear, licking its lobe. Then I nestled my hand down to the scene of the crime. My palm found a resting place protecting her moist, horrible, magnificent mess. We slept.Chapter 3: Repercussions and reverberations The long shadows of late December, coupled with a pint of rum and two bottles of wine allowed a deep sleep well into the morning. Strange dreams agitated my slumber. Consciousness was not immediate nor wanted. I was barely able to lift my pounding head as I struggled and squinted in the dense obscurities of the unfamiliar room. Yellow curtains?My mouth filled with cotton, in a daze, I was lost. I panicked for a split second. Oh My God! What the…The bewilderment became unacceptable reality. The pieces started to come to me. In a distressed motion I gasped; my hand covered my open mouth; it smelled. The evidence was pure and very real. There she was. Karen, curled up naked, sleeping, breathing with calm, even rhythms, facing the other way, her breasts exposed as only her bottom half was bound by a comforter. I held my forehead and scooted to the edge of the bed, carefully so as not to wake my friend. What am I going to say to her? I dreaded. What will she say to me? My attention raced from one vivid detail to the next. Does this make me a lesbian? A LESBIAN! No, I claimed, but it was good, oh my god. We fucked. What did I do? Holy shit we fucked. I snuck to the bathroom without a sound. I leaned on the counter for precious life. “Déjà vu,” I whispered to myself as I smiled for the mirror. No toothbrush, I scouted the medicine cabinet for one. I’m sure she won’t mind if I steal this, I smirked as I opened the new brush. I ran the shower and stepped in. The warm water felt just right. Karen’s shampoo was top shelf, much better than I buy. The peach aroma and the suds refreshed my soul and straightened out my pounding head. I was awake and I was scared and I was horny and I was alive for the first time since my divorce. I lathered in circles, daydreaming all the while. I paid special attention to each part of my body. I concentrated a palm full of shampoo on my pussy as I washed. It somehow felt different this morning. Touching myself was pleasurable for the first time. I felt uninhibited under the blast of water. My eyes were held hostage as the soap oozed from my hair. My ears filled by the magic waterfall. I danced in place as last night’s memories came back to life. Then from out of the dense steam, I felt her hand touch my shoulder. “Can I get in?” She smiled that great big smile. Her teeth are better than perfect, they’re cute. The tiny gap that separates her two front teeth adds character and the slightest hint of gum in her smile just makes it a knockout. I held my breath. It was okay, everything was alright. She accepted me, we’re in the same boat, and it’s a pretty exciting boat. I have nothing to be ashamed of. She is so sexy. I exhaled. “Yes,” I nodded, as Karen stepped under the warm flow. We washed each other like they do in the dirty movies; her back, my back. We giggled as we played in the water. I couldn’t remember the last time I giggled. “You know,” she said in a seductive tone, “you never did eat me last night. I think you owe me. Will you eat me now?” She licked the tip of my nose, melting me further. My mind raced. I’ve never done that before. I mean I have never done any of this before. But I dreamt it, oh do I dream it. Who would ever know to look at me? I’ve wanted this for a long time; ever since I can remember. This is my fantasy, but I have never ever told a soul. This is all I thought of when my slug of a husband used to attempt to fuck me. What a dark woman I am. Am I filthy? I looked up into her needy eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” I answered Karen’s request. “Yes you can,” she whispered, easing me to my knees right there in the shower. My face found her delicate nest. I inhaled the peach perfume and whisked away the remaining suds and pulled her lips open and began tentatively licking at her unprotected clitoris.