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Pink Pat

By: Boxlicker101



Patricia Pinckney is a sweet and very pretty woman in her early twenties, and she likes to get together with me from time to time, because of the way I make love with her. Her friends always call her Pat, of course, and some of them go beyond that. She is a strawberry blonde, with a great wealth of freckles that cover her face and, I am well aware, are all over her body too. Her skin, what is visible between the freckles, has a pinkish cast, and these characteristics and her last name have earned her the nickname Pink Pat. There are other places on her body that are also a lovely shade of pink, but most of her friends have no first-hand knowledge of them. 

I definitely do, and have had this knowledge ever since our first meeting about a year ago. On that occasion, and on many since then, I have done things to those places that were extremely pleasurable to both of us. The most recent time was last week, when she called me at home and suggested getting together so I could do those same things to those same places. 

"Hi, George. This is Pink Pat," she began the conversation. 

"Hi, Pat. How are all your pinknesses?" 

"Well, that's what I called you about. Some of them really need your attentions. How about you coming over here this afternoon?" 

"Well, that sounds like a great idea. I'm supposed to be working but, being the knight in shining armor I am, I'd much rather be attending to your needs." 

We chatted for a few more minutes, and set two o'clock as the time. I reminded her to be sure to shower just before I arrived, and she promised she would. Pat knew why I wanted her to shower, and where to concentrate her washing, and that's one of the reasons we so much enjoy getting together for good times. I finished the paragraph in the article I had been writing -- the deadline was not for another week -- and took a shower to prepare for our meeting. I was careful when I shaved too, because I knew my face would soon be pressing against the soft, freckled skin of the insides of her thighs. 

Just before two o'clock, I was at the front door of Pat's apartment building and I called her on my cell phone as she requested. When I told her I had arrived, she opened the door for me and I walked up a flight of stairs to her apartment and rang that doorbell. Not wanting to take any chances on letting in somebody she didn't want, she looked through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. After I entered, she locked it behind me and spread her arms in an invitation for me to embrace, and her fluffy bathrobe opened in front, showing off her pretty freckled form. I thrust my hands inside the billowing garment and hugged her bare body, my hands seeking out her luscious ass.

"I'm really glad to see you," she said after taking her tongue out of my mouth. "I've been needing what I know you can do for me." 

"Well, you know me, always ready to help a damsel in distress." 

That earned another long kiss with our tongues twining again and, this time, when she broke it off, Pat put her hand inside the waistband of my pants to lead me to her bedroom. Knowing what would be happening there, I followed eagerly until we stood beside her bed. She shucked out of her bathrobe and tossed it on a handy chair, leaving herself completely naked, even barefoot. I was still fully dressed, but Pat began rectifying that situation, unzipping and removing my jacket and starting on my shirt buttons. Seconds later, I was bare above the waist, and wearing only my socks and pants, because I had taken my shoes off at the door. 

That was all I would be removing for a while, and Pink Pat was anxious for me to start doing what I had come to her apartment for, so she lay on the bed with a pillow under her head and raised her arms to me in an invitation. After pulling off my socks and tossing them aside, I responded, lying beside her, where we could resume kissing. Besides Pat's mouth, I kissed her green eyes, her snub nose, her cute little ears and the pulse spots in her throat. All those places are sensitive to contact with my mouth, but I didn't take long to get to her much more erogenous pink areas. 

The first of these was her nearest of her breasts, which are rather small but perfectly formed. I cupped the luscious globe in one hand and started licking her light pink nipple, which was already hard. As my tongue caressed her, I could feel the cute little nubbin becoming fully erect, so much so that I could feel the individual ridges and the pebbly texture of her areola. I spent about a minute on the first of her lovely breasts before switching my lingual attentions to its equally adorable twin, and that nipple quickly became just as rigid under my tongue. 

Neither of us was in a hurry, and we were both truly enjoying what we were doing, so I continued, while Pat writhed in bliss under me. Over and over, I switched back and forth between her precious nubbins, sometimes using the flat of my tongue and sometimes dabbing with just the tip. She was moaning in pleasure, and I would have been doing the same, it felt so good, but my mouth was otherwise occupied. 

As wonderful as it was for both of us, I knew of another pink place on her body that would be even more fun, so I started licking my way toward it. Her pussy was already heavily lubricating, and the delectable aroma of her fresh juices and pulled me toward them, while Pat pushed on my shoulders to speed my journey to the same destination. Anticipation is pleasurable too, and twirling my tongue in her navel was also fun, so I took longer to reach her fluffy pubic hair that I might have done. 

I could have gotten into a 69 position, but I preferred to get off the bed and get back on at the foot. Pat saw me approaching and raised her legs so I could duck under them and let them rest on my shoulders while I wrapped my arms around her thighs. That brought my face to where we both wanted it, inches away from her dripping wet pussy. The first thing I did was lick all the juices from the insides of her thighs and her crotch. Their flavor was just as heavenly as I knew it would be, but I knew they would be even more delicious when licked directly from the pink hole that was their source. 

Before starting that, however, I raised my head to gaze on the gorgeous pussy I would soon be feasting on. It is truly a thing of beauty, with sparse light pink hair on creamy white skin which is covered with freckles like most of the rest of her body. Pat was already highly aroused, and the inner lips of her pussy were swollen with lust and a dark pink shade, and had pushed their way through her slit. I gently used my fingers to spread the edges to peer into its lovely pink interior and was met with a cloud of fragrance from the juices which were still being produced, and I couldn't wait any longer. Greedily, I pressed my face in close and sluiced all her freshest nectar into my mouth. 

Pat was sighing and moaning in bliss, and her pussy was squirming under me when my tongue started caressing one of her outer lips. I love licking those that are clean-shaven, but the downy pink hair of Pat felt almost as good as her bare skin. Very slowly, wanting our mutual pleasure to last, I licked up to her Mount of Venus and kissed her there. Her movements were more pronounced, and I knew her pleasure was mounting toward an orgasm, but I wanted to delay that glorious moment. I am aware a woman will derive more fun from cumming through oral stimulation if the person doing it takes a long time to bring her to that delightful state, and I wanted her to be at the epitome of arousal before sucking her clit and bringing her to her orgasm. 

It's also a lot more fun for me to spend a long time eating her pussy, especially one as delectable as the one under my face. Eagerly, my tongue wiped off all the nectar she had just produced and started licking between an inner and outer lip, starting with the small, ultra-smooth patch below her pink hole. I caressed this very sensitive place with my tongue, and continued up into the seam between the labia. When I reached the point where they are close together, I tipped my head slightly so I could slip the flat of my tongue in and lick both lips at once. The outer one was slick with her delicious juices and its inner mate was spongy and swollen with lust, and I reveled in both sensations as my tongue continued upward.

Still in no hurry, my mouth was traveling slowly, while Pat's body moved under and in front of me. When I reached the spot where the two inner lips merge and form her clit hood, I raised my head slightly to see her responses. Pink Pat's body was rocking from side to side on her lovely ass, besides writhing in bliss. Her eyes were closed; her mouth was partially open in a grimace of pleasure, and her head was rolling from side to side on her pillow, while her moans of bliss were starting to end in whimpers, 

When I looked at where her clit hood should have been protecting that precious morsel, I saw it had pushed its way almost completely clear, and was another delightful, gleaming shade of pink. With the utmost delicacy, I drew my tongue across the remnants of the hood, and was rewarded by an additional spurt of her fresh juices gushing onto my chin. I smiled at her extreme arousal and brought my mouth back to the place where I had started and feasted on all the freshest nectar, before starting to lick between the other pair of labia. 

I treated these the same way, licking slowly and thoroughly, until I reached her clit hood again. Her movements were even wilder; with her pussy ramming up against me so strongly it felt as if she were trying to wrap it around my face. Her hips were swiveling under me, thrusting her legs out and back over my shoulders like a pair of pistons, and her thighs had turned slightly outward, presenting herself even more fully to my mouth. I could see she was at the peak of her sexual excitement, and as ready to start cumming as she would ever be. 

Pink Pat agreed with me. "Uh! Uh! Uh!" she was whimpering in time with the thrusts of her pussy against my face. "Suck my clit!" she begged me. "Suck my clit and make me cum!" 

That was exactly what I wanted to do. Opening my mouth, I drew the precious pink pearl inside and, with my lips forming a seal, I started to suck. My tongue stayed busy too, caressing the swollen sides and top of Pat's adorable clit, while her body pitched and tossed under me. 

"Yes! Yes! Like that!" she cried out joyfully. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

There was no real need to tell me that, because I already knew, from the way Pat's thighs clamped onto my temples and the way her hands grabbed the back of my head and jammed my face against her wildly gyrating pussy. Carrying me a very willing prisoner, her legs swung from side to side, while she continued to bounce up and down on the bed. I clung to her thighs and kept my mouth securely around her clit, and enjoyed the wild ride for some of the most exciting minutes of my life. 

Abruptly, it ended, when Pink Pat cried out ecstatically but incoherently, and all her muscles clenched as she rammed her pussy against my face for an ultimate time. After her orgasm, all her muscles completely relaxed and she sagged down onto the bed like a pink puddle. Her legs were still draped loosely over my shoulders, and I left them there while I devoured the delicious juices she had just produced. I licked off what had spattered on her thighs, her crotch and all over her pussy, including sucking them from the pink hole that had produced them. When I had eaten every drop, I backed away, letting her legs fall to the mattress, and knelt between her legs to wait for her to catch her breath and recover from her orgasm. 

When she did, Pat opened her eyes and smiled at me. "That was great, George. I hope we're not through, though." 

"I hope we're not through too. But, what else do you want to do?" I knew, and she knew I knew, but I wanted to tease a little. 

"Well...You know." She couldn't quite bring herself to say what she wanted, but she told me by rolling over, slipping some pillows under her waist and reaching back to spread her ass cheeks. "I washed myself extra carefully just before you came over, because I know what you like. I really like it too." 

She was right about what I like, and Pink Pat was putting on display one of my favorite pink things, and I knew exactly what she wanted me to do about it. I wanted to do it just as much, so I knelt close behind her and leaned forward, to breathe deeply of the aroma. There was none, except for her pussy, which is what I wanted, and my tongue started to caress the second of the two womanly pink places it most likes to lick. I began with the cute dimple at the base of her spine, and my tongue traveled from there down the inside of one cheek. 

Her skin was soft and smooth and mostly creamy white there. Although the outsides of her cheeks are as covered with freckles as the rest of her body, the charming little patches dwindle and almost halt at the insides of those luscious hemispheres, leaving them a pure, creamy white. Not just her complexion, but the shape of Pink Pat's ass is alluring. The cheeks and her hips flare out from her torso, and her hips curve smoothly back and merge with her legs, but the cheeks of her ass are more adventurous. They jut from her back and form two perfect half moons before curving back up and in to join her thighs. The flesh is firm but soft there, and a joy to fondle and cup in my hands, but that is not my favorite thing to do with Pat's ass. 

Just then, I wanted to caress her with my tongue and, after licking all the way down and around her charming rosebud -- also a soft, lovely pink -- my mouth meandered back up the inside of the other cheek until I reached my starting point. I didn't stay there long, but began licking downward again, closer to my ultimate target, as if homing in on that sweet pink spot. Wanting to save the best for last, I still avoided her lovely rosebud, which was the most sensitive part of her ass, as well as being my favorite part. 

Pink Pat was cooing in delight as my tongue slowly caressed the puckered part surrounding the delightful pink bud. She is more sensitive there than where I started, and her body was squirming in front of me as I licked all the way down and around and back up. I paused with my mouth once more positioned over the ultimate target of my tongue and, a little later, of my cock. Her movements were more pronounced and, when I did not resume licking for a few seconds, her ass started impatiently fucking back against my face. 

The preliminaries were over; my target was bracketed, and my tongue began slowly licking downward, and Pat gave a soft cry of joy when the tip laved her directly across her delightful pink rosebud. I continued the stroke down her crotch, but stopped well short of her pussy. I am aware of the hazards to a woman of something going from her ass to her pussy, even when the former is as clean as I knew hers was. The nectar already trickling from that other pink place had a truly delightful fragrance, and I knew it would taste even better when I licked it from my fingers after the orgasm she would soon be reaching. 

The next stroke of my tongue was back up from near her pussy to her rosebud again but, this time, after making contact, I started wiggling the tip against her puckered pink area. She had been cooing and murmuring in joy for quite a while already but, as my tongue continued caressing that very sensitive spot, as responsive as some women's pussies, those sounds turned to moans of bliss and she started jamming her ass back against my face even harder. I smiled inwardly and kept my tongue busy on the place where it was giving us both so much fun. Besides pressing that delightful pink and creamy white place as tightly as she could against my face, Pat's hips had started swiveling again, thrusting her knees into her mattress. It was almost time for me to start fondling her clit to bring her to another orgasm. 

But I was having too much fun licking her ass to be any hurry to do that. My face was buried between her cheeks which my hands were spreading apart as far as I could. As Pat shoved back against me, I pressed in as tightly as I could, and my tongue stroked up and down and back and forth. I tried my best to squeeze that agile little organ inside her, but she was too tight there and my tongue was too blunt, but I came as close to it as I could. 

"Lick my clit, George. Make me cum! Pink Pat was exhorting me, and I knew it was time, although I would have to use my fingers, because my mouth was too pleasurably busy. 

I reached around with my right arm, not able to see where my hand was going, but knowing the general direction. Pat guided my fingers, until I felt the cute pearl which had pushed itself clear of its hood again. Not wanting to be too rough on such a sensitive part of her, I gently squeezed her clit between two folds of her inner lips and started to stroke in time with the caresses of my tongue on her pink rosebud. Her movements became even wilder, her body wobbling in front of me and her legs driving up and down into the mattress. 

"Yes!" she cried out. "Oh, god, I'm cumming." 

I had to let go of her cheek and use my left arm to help her stay upright and keep fondling her clit with my right hand. Pink Pat was actually sobbing with bliss while her body jerked from side to side and back against my face. For all the time she was in the throes of cumming, I kept my tongue stroking her pink rosebud and my fingers caressing her clit until she climaxed, ecstatically crying out to tell me when that happy event occurred. After that climax, all of Pat's muscles relaxed again, and she started sagging forward until she ended up lying with the pillow under her waist and her ass sticking up toward me. 

Not wanting to waste any of the delicious treat, I used my fingers to scrape the nectar from her pussy and lift it to my mouth so I could lick it off. I did this three times, enjoying the flavor as much as I had after her first orgasm but, by that time, my cock was clamoring for its turn. Leaving Pink Pat lying face down with her ass already in position for what we would we doing next. I got off the bed to start making preparations, first going to the bathroom to get a wet cloth, then to the dresser to select a condom, remove it from its packet and roll it in place. I picked up the bottle of Aqualube that had been left on the dresser and returned to the bed, where I set the cloth on the edge of the mattress. 

Pat was still lying face down but, when she felt me get back onto the bed, she turned her head in my direction, and smiled when she saw my hard cock with its latex covering. She adjusted the pillow under her waist and reached back to spread her ass cheeks again. I knelt between her widely spread legs and, when she felt the neck of the bottle press against the place where my cock would be momentarily, she quivered in delight and spread her cheeks farther. 

"Oil me up really good," she directed me quite unnecessarily. 

I squirted in a big dollop, and she cooed happily. Pink Pat repeated that happy sound when I slid my middle finger into her ass, and she started squirming in joy as I carefully spread the lubricant as far in as my finger would reach. When she had been well lubricated, I covered my cock with more of the Aqualube. We were both prepared so, using the thumb and fingers of that same hand, I pried open her pink rosebud and, with my other hand guiding my cock, I pressed the tip against the tiny opening we were creating. I rubbed it up and down until a small penetration had been made, and thrust forward. 

Pat uttered her happiest sound yet when my cock wedged between the soft, pink edges of her ass, and I also expressed my own sound of pleasure. A few seconds later, another thrust eased another inch of my cock into the tight hole that wanted it, and she moaned in bliss. With the fingers that I had been using to hold her ass open, I checked for any loose skin or other possible problem. Finding none, I drove in a little deeper. I was through the tight sphincter at the entrance, and I could feel the muscles squeezing my shaft, while those farther in had started massaging the rest of my cock. 


Pink Pearl



I just got a letter from Lisa.  It’s been seven years.  She is out of college now, working.   We haven’t see one another for at least three years, maybe four.  We have, our lives have become ordinary.  But she wrote this to me, an answer to my wanting to see her again.  I will share this.  Somehow this letter from her explains everything.

Matthew,

You asked me what I would do if you came out here to stay a week with me?  To just show up at my door, surprise me, meet my friends.  Hang out.

What would I do?

I thought about this on the drive home today. We both say I would be nervous, but it's much more than that. I would be a complete mess of nerves. VERY shy, VERY unsure, and ultimately, VERY uncomfortable because of my nervousness. Self conscious. And excited. I think I could manage dinner and a movie with you now, if you ever did come to visit, and more than that I would have to wait and see. It has been a long long time, things change. We have written a lot. This thread between us. But still . . . I might just pass out or toss my cookies at the dinner table. Hahahaha. I'm joking, but I'm also serious. I have a very weak stomach sometimes, it's kind of gotten worse over time, no matter how mellow I get, or how I learn to deal with situations mentally, my stomach does flip flops. I think that I would want to talk to you a lot, just have a normal conversation, but with voices, not letters. I think that would be so wonderful. Squeeze my eyes shut and give you a big hug. And of course I imagine I want to jump your bones. But I can't promise anything. I could be just as likely to do the passing out or tossing cookies as the jumping of your bones. Just thinking about it gives me butterflies.

I do feel needed, but I don't want you to feel blue. I understand it, I feel that way too. I think of you often, blue myself, and I know you miss me too. But I don't want you to feel blue. I want you to think of me and smile. 

I love to think about us, before, of being all yours. The weeks of 'lessons' you telling me I had nothing to learn. Me saying . . . oh god, the things I said. Hee Hee Hee. I am laughing evilly again because I love the idea right now of you coming out here. And you know I would dress up anyway you wanted, for you, for our night out. I know how you like panties. O . . . I am getting dizzy thinking about it... At least, I think it's from thinking about it. 

My boyfriend and I? You have very little reason to be jealous of him. He does get to hug me, kiss me, fuck me, whatever now and he doesn't do it often enough. He is rarely affectionate with me in those ways. He doesn't lust after me. I think he finds me attractive, but he is not overcome with lust for me. Sigh. Like I said, I'm a hopeless romantic. What WE have together is something I do not have with him. It is SPECIAL. Wanton lust. I loved how you looked at me. The time we had WAS  your look could see the inner me, the parts that don't show their faces in everyday light, but sit somewhere just below the surface. And can they ever? Sometimes just the littlest remembered moment can make me glow, like . . . you know - you're the only one who does. That post orgasmic glow. The only times I really am beautiful.

Tell you what - how about I fly out sometime and we can spend a weekend together with you, just us, a day in bed. I have this crazy desire to Paint You! There is such a part of me that wants to see you out there. Would Mandy mind? Evil laugh again.

As far as your offer, whatever you say my love, I will do. But I am too terrified to say it in full seriousness right now. Give me time. I know you are and will. And you know, when I say things like I want to be TAUGHT, that I am still CURIOUS, it's that I want to be explored, I want to be shown the kind of pleasure my body is capable of giving. I have not really had that, and I want so badly to be shown that, feel that again. Be mastered. Broken down, put back together into something better. I am so silly. That is what I mean: Dissolved, disheveled, naked in your bed. Completely out of control of my own body. Out of my mind. Not self conscious and shy.

How much do I love you? And what do we have? You ask that with so much pain in your letter. How much? So much my heart right now is swelling up and I think it's going to pop right out of my chest. So much, I am often surprised to find myself smiling, because I'm lost in the thought of you. So much that I would keep the secret of us forever if I had to, not EVER meet if it were guaranteed somehow that all this would never end. I need you here in my life in some form, be it email or real live flesh. I could just sit here, anywhere, close my eyes and think of you, think of us in our little room. Think about it at work while I'm shuffling paper from this pile to that pile and get all swollen, hot and wet. Hold my thighs together tight. Lick my lips. Yum. I can think of it for hours. So, in a way, you are already here.

And I want to scream it to the world, but I can't. I have to hide it here, deep inside... 

My Secret. 

So I guess I am what you say - human. Your pearl that is hidden away. It's fun to be human. I realize now that not many people are.

Love, Your Pink little Pearl

Lisa

*************

This is a hard story to write. Every moment is burned into my memory. I also have to warn you, this story is long. Probably too long. It cant be helped.

Another thing.

I can not identify exactly why or at what point what happened happened. The cause. If I knew, it never would have happened at all. But that was just it, there were no markers along the way. Rather, it was a series of gradual turns, so how does one say here or here? When I really think about it, the point of beginning was well before THIS story begins.

I remember that at some point, long ago, Lisa began to stay with our grandparents in the summer for three months at a time. For three months I never saw her. We were very close, and it had a profound impact on me; I believe that somehow that pattern of her presence and absence and presence year after year - the sadness and longing while she was gone, the joy and attachment I felt when she returned inserted the initial speck of dust into my soul.

Call it Desire. 

Like a sting. Awaiting a trigger. That is when this story begins. Like a mosquito bite they say 'Don't Scratch, it'll make it worse.' But it itches and you scratch.

And it gets worse just like they say

That is the beginning. 

(Oh and no character in this story is ever under the age of 18. We are all adults here.)

--

I had been attending Seminary, working on my pastoral degree with a counseling minor. My ultimate goal was to be a pastor. I was almost done and had even begun my second year interning. My sister, Lisa, was in her last year of high school with only six months left before graduating. We had just celebrated her 18th birthday. She obviously still lived at home with our parents, who are very conservative, very strict, very religious. We shared their values, but not with quite the same intensity. More mercy, less justice, is how I describe it. But we are all very close. I lived just a mile away from my parents home, and my school was less than half a mile from Lisa's highschool.

So we saw each other often. First, because I went to mom and dad's house for meals quite a bit, and second because Lisa would stop by my house when she walked home from school just to say hi. 

Its funny the order I am telling this story. 

I am also married. I married the first girl I kissed.

I am already trembling as I write this all down.

*************

"Lord, Thank you for this meal you have provided us. Thank you for bringing us all together this evening, and for blessing us as you have. Lord we pray for all those suffering in the world, for the hungry and those without a home. Please provide for those without, and let us be thankful for what we have. Amen." 

We sat around the table and held hands as we prayed.

I was sitting next to my sister Lisa, my wife Mandy was across the table, and my mom and dad sat at each end of the table. These were our regular places. Tonight Mandy fixed the meal and we were all sitting in the little dining area of our apartment. We lived in a two story apartment, all the common rooms on the first floor and a small bedroom on the second floor, with a door that went down the back to the outside from a small deck area. 

Lisa was very quiet, which was not really like her. She was seated next to me in her cotton dress, buttoned to the top. She always wore dresses, down to her knees, blues, blacks and greys. Her hair was long, dark. She had hazel eyes, downcast tonight, just picking at her food. I was sensitive to things like that, I noticed the needs of others. 

Later that evening, while dishes were being cleared and everyone was settling down in the living room to watch some TV, I caught a moment with Lisa.

"Lis-"

She looked at me, averting her gaze.

"What is it? You seem down."

She simply shook her head no, as she said quietly, "Been thinking about some things. That's all."

"You can tell me."

There was a silent pause before she shook her head no. 

"I better not."

**************

The encounter with my sister the night before had me vexed. My sister and I were very close and I could not imagine what could be wrong. I was imagining her dealing with some relationship issues, perhaps with someone she should not be - we had rules about dating non-Christians. Or, it could be something else. But what? Something worse. She was a quiet girl, shy, but not around us, not with me. She had this wonderful soft voice, full of life and a mischievous glint in her eye. Like she was always figuring things out. She threw her head back when she laughed. 

I had heard there was someone at the high school she was maybe interested in. I kept wondering, thinking about it. Worrying. I talked to her some again about it. Reminding her I had taken counseling classes, that I could help. She knew I was a good listener, but declining to share each time, and seeming more down as the days passed.

Lisa hinted a little more one afternoon when she stopped by the house. A tidbit. A clue.

"It's about something I did, or....am doing."

"Sis. This is important. You need to talk about it," I said as she pressed her hands together. My fears were being confirmed. What I was thinking about. I continued, "I won't tell a soul. This is just between us."

She had walked to the apartment today on her way home. It was 3:00 in the afternoon. Mandy worked till 6:00 and I had afternoons free to study. 

She sat down, holding her knees tight together, her skirt flapping over the ends of her knees. She was tugging the fabric down and over calves.

"This year has just been a really hard year for me. REALLY hard." She began to hug her knees a little, bending over, looking down.

"Twelfth grade can be hard. A lot changes." I was nodding my head. Agreeing.

"I worry, am worrying so much, about so many things, college, and being an adult and...." She looked away. I was confused now.

"Is it someone you are dating?"

She shook her head no. A sense of relief released inside me. We were to be virgins until married, in every sense of the word.

"What? Just say . . .something, anything . . . you can tell me."

"Well.... I.....Its just. I have been filled with these feelings, overwhelming feelings." Her hand was placed on her stomach and she pressed, looking toward me. Her cheeks flushed. She was looking away again, "And I can't help it." She got up and walked to window and as she stood there said quietly, "I have been Masturbating." Then turning to me, met my eyes. "There, I said it."

I didn't know what to think. 

Or what to say. That was a sin. A sexual sin, a sin of fantasy and fantasy was almost the same as what I had been worrying about, but. . . it was enough. But, then for me - this was my sister. Don't cast stones. I knew I masturbated, did at times. Kept it hidden, to myself. I resisted. Very seldom. But.....

Do I share that? How do we have this conversation? How . . . with my sister? It was easier being married. Do I say that? No. 

All that came out was, "You . . . masturbate?"

"Yes." She came back over, sat down. And the flow of words, quiet, almost whispers, "A lot. I get this . . . urge, this burning sensation, these feelings. Longings, temptations. Fantasies. There is nothing to do. When I am nervous, and . . ." She looked at me, eyes glistening.

I felt myself grow warm, as I looked into her innocent eyes - a picture of her, these images, I was spinning. I was looking at her swaying around, her thin fingers. Her hazel eyes looking into mine just then.

"I've had a lot on my mind, for a long time." She was up again, pacing, "It's not easy to confess. Matthew, you can not say anything to anyone. Not even Mandy. But . . .I have no one I can talk to. But you."

I agreed. "This is good. A start. You need to control yourself then."

There was a pause, and as she stood looking out the window, she spoke in an even voice. "Matthew. I just want to LOSE control. My whole life has been . . . control. Be this. Be that. I'm too wound up. I'm going crazy inside when what I need is to go crazy outside. In six months I will be graduating and I will be an adult and . . . I haven't even kissed a boy."

"You are waiting, though - right?" I stammered, surprised by her words. "This is stress you are feeling, just stress." 

"No." She was about to say something before she continued, "Yes. You are right. I can't even imagine kissing . . . anyone. But . . . so, that is what I do, I imagine I am..without, doing it." She looked back at me, I listened, not believing what I heard. She was always somehow 'accepting' of the Truth of moral behavior. Never questioning. But a look now in her eyes, of something more, could I ever have suspected such thoughts. This was not a part of her at all, not the Lisa I knew. 

This idea of wanting to lose control, it was not good. I did not like hearing it. But I did not want to be judgmental, not yet anyway. I needed to hear her out, I said I would. But still . . .

She continued, "I believe you when you say you think it's stress, but . . . ever since last summer I feel like this different person is emerging inside, wanting . . . more. I don't know, something. More. I don't even know what. It can be so horrible. I've had to come to terms with my true feelings, and it's just awful to think that I may never be close to anyone."

"What are you saying? Sure you will. You need to meet someone, a boy, a . . .Christian boy. Just be more outgoing, talk to people more, in group settings, like you do with mom and dad, with me. You have such a great sense of humor . . .and . . ."

"I mean, that's just it isn't it, I am SHY Matthew. Too shy. I will NEVER meet anyone, anyone I would care for. Truly. If I went out on a date I would probably toss my cookies. So I guess what I'm saying is, where were you back then when I needed this advice?"

I was beginning to say more, but she talked over me.

" It's a dangerous situation - I know it - and I don't know that even if I were faced with a chance to do something like kiss someone, say, or . . . whatever." She was gradually lowering her voice now as she spoke, finally sitting down next to me. "I don't know if I'd have the courage, even, to do it. It's been so ground into me how wrong it all is. It's so much easier to fantasize. In my fantasies I can do anything . . . be as wild and seductive as I want, but in real life I'm much more shy, self conscious. I feel like two people. But then, what happens to me inside, what I need then. This physical need. It comes out."

"But god sees what is inside too. It is still sin. And it gets stronger because you are giving in to it!" I had to say it.

And she looked up at me, the horror in her eyes, getting up again. Tears welling in her eyes.

Through her tears she sputtered, "It's so awful, this...I don't know...It's awful but then, Matthew it IS nice too. It feels . . . "

She walked to the window again, holding the curtains in her fingers, stroking the fabric, as she looked out, " There is this guy at school, last spring. He seemed interested and I was excited to go back this year, talk to him, maybe I don't know. I hadn't seen him all summer. Thinking maybe I will have a boyfriend. You know. Maybe. And when we first met, it seemed almost like it used to be... could be, but then it changed. Suddenly. For no reason. What had I done? I don't know what to do NOW. He doesn't talk to me." 

Pause.

"How can he just ignore me? I felt so luminous, like I was glowing from the inside out, and he said he would call me in the summer. I felt that moment, just from being around him. I imagined the summer, what we could do. But. He never called. And that started my fantasies. Of US meeting. It's driving me nuts. I can't stand the feeling, and so I need to relieve myself. It gets better after, but then. Oh Matthew . . . it is every day now, TWICE a day now."

I had this moment, fleeting images, imagining her on her bed. Putting it away from myself immediately. A white blanket, her knees raised up beneath the fabric. Her skin. Her sex. Did she pull the covers over herself? Remove her clothes? Was it in the bathroom, the shower? I imagined her hands, looking at her slender fingers just then. Fingers pressed up inside. I closed my eyes. Putting it away each time.

She sat down by me again. I took her hand. Felt each of her small fingers, stroked the palm of her hand. "Lisa, I think, you need to stop. Trust me. Work on the problem, which is stress. It is." I pressed my eyes shut - putting it away again. As I continued, "The changes are coming and you were always one to think ahead, plan ahead. Now with so much changing it is overwhelming. But, you can get through it all. All of it. God is there for you, he will not tempt you beyond what you are able. This is a test. God is helping you grow. It sounds like stress. Like so much is going on and this diverts you. At this time of worry, Satan can only tempt. But God overcomes, overcomes all sin. All temptation. We can think about that, work on that, pray. Everything else then will take care of itself. In the meantime, Pray for forgiveness for strength. We do not worry for tomorrow. God feeds us, and clothes us like the lilies in the field." I was looking at her soft white hands. "You can read your bible and pray and ..."

"I have."

*****************

After that conversation, I could not fully absorb all that Lisa had told me. But in another sense, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It absorbed me, drew me in. I couldn't stop thinking about her, her feelings. Her room. The vision of her, in MY imagination. This seed, and her words, 'That burning sensation' 

I found myself thinking of her masturbating - 'every day, twice a day.'

I asked her again a few days later, "How is it going?" 

"Ok. . . Oh, You mean . . . oh." She just looked away.

And I watched her walk off, her cheeks mottling. Eyes, liquid. I began to watch the way she moved. To see the smallness of her waist, her small delicate hands. The way she looked at you before turning her head, the way her hair fell across her cheek. Her clothes, the way the fabrics hung from her, loose so you could not make out a figure, but she had a figure, a fine narrow waist, full hips, long legs, dark hair, and beautiful lips. Full lips, not like my wife's . . .

I would press my eyes closed, shaking these thoughts from my mind. Put it away each time.

I had married Mandy two years before. We went to the same College, it was how we met. We liked each other very much, spent so much time together. We shared the same values, she wanted to be a pastors wife and I wanted to be a pastor. Our beliefs were very similar. We held hands, read the bible together. I remember the first time we kissed, how nice it was, her tight lips. I was a virgin and so was she. She was the first girl I had kissed.




Pink Pearl



It was hard after we were married. Not having sex at all, being told it is a sin, and then all of a sudden one day you can - that suddenly, somehow, it is all ok. It is a very odd transition. It especially took her awhile to adjust. She was very shy, and it had to be dark and she had to be wearing something. At first it seemed the sensation of my touch hurt her. The look on her face as my hands wandered over her body. I remember fumbling around in the dark, trying to figure things out, her body. I mean, you have some idea, you learn what it is you are supposed to do. But there is more to it after all, and there she was laying still arms at her side in the dark, and there I was fumbling around on top of her. 

She would not touch me, guide me, no helping at all. She let me kiss her, kiss me back, but that was all. Her trembling body, her warmth, her nightgown pulled up around her waist, in the dark. If I could have turned on the light, seen what I was doing. Seen HER. Just to see her. It was a little like trying to fix a stove, not knowing how, and you have to do it with the lights out. 

But I was ready, so ready, and I lay down on her, the weight of my body pressing her down into the mattress, and she would close her eyes, bite her lips tight and knowing she was feeling me, naked, hard as I lay down and moving on her. Letting my penis slide along her thighs, feeling her open her legs slightly, finding my way, and then sensing it was right - somehow - pressing myself, pressing hard feeling myself slip into her, inside, feeling her open up, so soft, this gentle pressure. I remembered thinking how soft, and delicate and gentle. The way she yielded, her body opening, letting me inside as I would move on her. It was really beautiful, and then as I pressed, my penis was held back, and pressing . . .that release as I felt myself slide full inside her, inside her body. And that cry she made. We were no longer virgins. And she curling herself into a little ball after, by my side and then going to take a shower. To be clean.

Those first times. Not terrific, but still wonderful.

Now, it was better, though I had nothing to compare. No means of. . . knowing. It was like a book I had read somewhere, where the husband says. 'Get ready wife, I have something dreadful I have to do to you.' But it was not that, not at all. It was wonderful, we were in love. I loved the feel of her, her touch, her eyes on me as I read the Bible for devotions in the morning. She did adore me. I just remember there being times when I would think, somehow there should be more to it.

The lights were still out, she was still clothed during the 'act' as she called it. Darkness, the feeling of her warm flesh, her heavy nightclothes. She did not like being seen naked. Ever. The week after I first talked to Lisa about her problem, that evening Mandy and I were getting ready for bed and I came out of the bathroom naked, and rather than slip on a T shirt and underwear in the bathroom as I normally do, I left them off. She was sitting at the dresser and fixing her hair, glancing my way in the mirror. I noticed. She did not appreciate it when I was naked. 

She said, "We should not uncover our nakedness as Noah did."

I responded, "He was drunk, that was the sin, and besides, our bodies are gods creation. They are Good, Very Good. God wrote Song of Solomon, with breasts exposed." 

I walked over naked and stood behind her, took her small breasts in my hand, rubbing her through her nightgown and squeezed as I spoke these words. I felt my penis grow hard.

She let me, momentarily, then pulling herself away, turning to the mirror. "It's only that, lustful thoughts should not consume us."

I thought of Lisa.

****************

The very next day, Lisa arrived right at 3:00, it had been at least a week since we had last talked. I had been doing better. I mean, in terms of controlling MY thoughts. 

She arrived, in a light blue dress with wide shoulder straps and a white collared shirt underneath buttoned high. Her dark hair was tussled a bit, shining, her cheeks were red, the end of her nose. It was windy and cold outside. 

I walked out with a cup of coffee, offered some to her - she said no - and sat down near her. As I gazed at her face, looking into her eyes I could see she had been crying. Streaks of wet staining her cheeks,, the end of her nose was red and runny. Her lips swollen.

"You been crying?"

She nodded. 

"Here." I handed her a tissue.

She wiped her cheeks, then holding it to her nose and with her head turned and looking down she sat silent for a while, one hand held tight to her lap. 

She said to no one, "The SAT's are in a week. I have been studying for them. I'm ready. I think I'm ready. I start to apply at colleges after the scores come back."

"You're nervous about the test?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Is that why you are crying?"

"That's part of it. But. . . its...I masturbated again. At school this time. In the bathroom." Again, looking away, "twice this morning. Once at home, in the shower. And.... I can't . . ." She was crying now. I lay my hand on hers.

This image of her in the shower. I turned the conversation, "The test will be ok. Once it is over you'll feel better."

"No. No. I can't stand this feeling. I want something. I don't know. I Just want to feel . . .my senses. . ." 

She did not finish, and I jumped in, "Lisa. It IS, every time you have something come up you are nervous about. Honestly. I know. You Just need to calm down." Changing my tone, " Sure you don't want something?" She shook her head as I lay my hand on her back, caressing her up to her shoulder, squeezing, watching her. Holding her shoulders. The warmth of her, and hugging her to me.

Then, I offered something that just sort of came to me.

!

I whispered in her ear as I held her, "Let me rub your back, give you a massage. Calm you down. I think it will help, we can talk some more, but right now you just need to calm down."

She sniffed, "K"

We moved ourselves from the embrace, positioning ourselves on the sofa so her back was to me, and my one leg was up on the cushion so I was facing her back. Sort of straddling her. She scootched herself close, right next to me. I lay my hands on her, right over her shoulder blades, and then pressing my thumb drew circles on each side of her spine, down slowly to her waist. Feeling her rigs, the movement of fabric under my hands. Then, pulling my thumbs down, drawing lines along the center of her back, as she pressed back into my hand following my movements until I let go. I began wrapping my fingers around her waist as I stroked her, pressing my fingers around and into her abdomen at her side, and drawing down until my hands were curling around her hips, before bringing the flat of hands back up and around until I was kneading her shoulders again.

"You are tight," I said as I began to work out in a wave of pressure points, pressing under each shoulder blade, feeling the knots of muscles at sides of her neck, sliding my hands along the soft fabric of her top and her dress. Rubbing my hands down her sides to the top of her hips, curling my fingers around her hip bone there, and holding to her. Stroking her bare arms, and squeezing the back of her neck, right at the nape of her neck, feeling her hair falling around my hand as I did. And something else. I was taking her in, all of her, feeling her body move and respond to my touches. The way she pressed into my hands wherever they lay on her. The softness of her, her delicate light little body. I raised my hands and pressed into her neck again, and she tipped her head back. Let out a deep breath, "Ahhhhhhh," a sound I had never heard from her before. 

She was fleshy too, her body curved. I could feel the curves of her, could not see them, but with my hands pressing the fabric of her dress I could feel them. Had not really even thought about it. She was bending lower now, her back curled before me, bending almost in half. She had one leg extending down to the floor almost so she was supporting herself with one knee. I was trembling as I rubbed her, keeping my mind clear.

I rubbed her for a long time before saying, "Better?"

She just said, "Yes. Feels nice. Thanks."

She looked back at me, did not move a muscle and I began all over again. I have no idea how long. I began to simply lightly stroke her this time, not kneading her muscles, no pressure; it was touch, I was lightly stroking rubbing, drawing my hand over her body. The small of her back, the arc of her hips. The tops of her thighs, her arms. Gradually, she had lain herself out by my side now, laying along the length of the sofa with her arms up by her head, elbows bent. She had also kicked off her shoes and was holding her feet raised up over the arm rest, bent at the knee. As my hands now gently stroked her I could hear her breath, feel the rise and fall of her chest as she lay there, the warmth of her breathing was touching my leg through my trousers where I sat looking down at her, her looking out at nothing in particular. 

"Now, relax and close your eyes. Everything will be all right. You have nothing to worry about. God loves you, He will take care of you."

She closed her eyes, "Matthew. Thank you for letting me talk. To talk about THIS."

"You can say anything you want. Anything. I'm here for you." I squeezed her waist at each side as I spoke.

"Mmmmm," she cooed. "That feels nice."

She kept her eyes closed and settled into the cushions of the couch, as I continued to stroke her up and down up and down, widening my fingers at her sides as I drew down her length. Thinking about the layers of fabric that separated me from her, feeling the way it moved over her body. I could feel the line of her bra strap, the edge of her panties at her waist, feel where the ends of her shirt was. I pressed my fingers into the tangle of her dark long hair and squeezed into her scalp, began massaging her scalp, and she let out this deep guttural coo. 

I wanted her to roll over, but not to help. I wanted to see her face just then, her lips, her narrow jaw, her eyes. I did not suggest anything. I took my hand away and she lifted her head, looking up at me as if waking from sleep. A smile, the first I had seen in weeks. Her white teeth smiling up at me.

She said in this soft voice, "A little more?"

I obliged for the littlest while longer, but then said, "That's enough. Better?"

She smiled, "Yes." 

Sitting up and smoothing the hem of her dress. Her lips were the reddest most perfect I had ever seen.

*********************

That night when Mandy and I went to bed. I rolled over so I was facing her in the dark and lay my hand at the small of her back. She had on this very long flannel nightgown, and I began to draw circles on her. Massage her. Her reaction to me was entirely different than Lisa's. 

I felt her stiffen.

She simply stated matter of fact, "Not tonight."

I said, "Not that, I don't want to have sex tonight. I just want to give you a little massage."

She lifted from the bed and was looking at me. She was an incurious woman, but this was new. I could not see that she was looking directly at me, exactly, since it was dark. But she shifted my way a little, paused, and then laying herself back down off her elbows said, "Ok."

I began to rub her body, to stroke her softly, lightly, feel the curves of her under the blanket, under the sheets. The fabric of her flannel nightgown was still thin, but there was no fabric beneath, the fabric of her nightgown rubbing against her bare skin.. I could feel her body, the softness of her. She still wore a bra and panties to bed, and I could feel their outline, same as Lisa. I did not allow myself to consciously acknowledge the comparison, but that is what I thought at that moment.

I began to rub lower, over her backside, something I had not done, and felt the softness of her buttocks, her thighs; and even with Mandy, I began to hear her sighs. Soft, pleasurable whimpers and breaths of pleasure. She was enjoying my touch. I thought about how my touch wakened Lisa, made her smile, and now the sighs, the soft breaths again, tonight.

I cannot honestly say if I was thinking of my wife just then or Lisa, but I was feeling so aroused at being able to touch my wife in places, and in ways, I would never have dreamed that afternoon, sliding my hand over my wife's bottom and then down her thighs until I was touching her bare legs, her inner things rising my fingers up pulling the bottom of her nightgown higher. I curled my fingers into the fabric and began pulling her nightgown higher still, a little at a time. Each time, sliding it up her legs. At first she did nothing, but then stiffening again, "You're not taking my nightgown off." 

I paused and then said, "It would feel so much nicer. . . on your skin," as I stroked my hand over her bare thigh. She raised up again, looking, and then her hand fumbling beneath the covers and as she pulled the gown off over her head and tossed it to the side of the bed she said, "But not tonight. . . "

"No. No." She lay back down in the same spot, but now there was no nightgown on, no flannel. Only her warmth, her bare flesh. I was trembling again as I lay my hand on her, her soft warm skin and as I softly stroked her body, closed my eyes and let myself drift back in time. Mandy was here, now, but for some reason this fantasy of the afternoon with Lisa laying like this, imagining her dress and blouse removed, was so much better. 

I felt my penis harden, I wanted to have sex now. I was getting so hungry for her, to lay on her bare body. She had no nightgown, only panties and a bra. I can't even remember when that had occurred before. Oh, I wanted to have sex, now the dark was something I was really enjoying. She was the littlest bit heavier than Lisa, a fullness that comes with age, and I drew a line down from her shoulders down the center of her back, loving the softness of her skin, over her panty covered backside and down her thighs, no lower than her knees, and up again following the line of her thighs between her legs. I could feel her press into my hand where it lay. Just the same I thought. 

Mandy had wonderful hips, and beautiful thighs. My wife was beautiful I remember thinking, so beautiful. I wanted to see her, to turn on the light. But I knew that would end everything. But I did unsnap her bra and let it open, fall down her sides, so that I did not keep hitting that line of fabric, I wanted her bare back.

I felt her stiffen a moment but then relax again. She was letting me this time. No instructions, no limits, it was a small matter, but still. A first for us. She was almost naked.

I gradually moved the straps out of the way and wanted her to turn over. But did not press my luck, she continued to lay there and her sighs, the movement of her body pressing into my hand, moving with me. I loved the fact that she enjoyed this, this woman who I loved, but who did not seem to enjoy 'that' so very much. I drew my hand down over her panties again and then let my fingers slip beneath the elastic at her waist and to rub her bare bottom, feel the line that ran down between her legs. This is the most naked I think I had every gotten Mandy, even while we had sex. 

She did not move a muscle, my hand was able to slide under the fabric of her panties until my fingers were poking out at her thighs, and I began to stroke her thighs the inside of her thighs and I felt her open her legs, just a little, the littlest bit. The palm of my hand reaching across her open legs inside her panties, feeling her moving to my touch, she was receiving me. Allowing my touch, and I let my hand slide back up along the inside of her thighs until I gently lay my palm over her sex, feeling the curve of her in the palm of my hand. Her heat, the fine hairs of her sex, stroking her between her legs, so slowly, softly. God I wanted her just then, to touch her, take off this last little bit of fabric, turn her over, make love to her lay on her, feel her body. But I had agreed. I paused, I stopped, and then lay myself beside her, held her close to me. Felt the skin of her back against the skin of my chest. Skin to skin. It felt wonderful. 

I slept in long pyjama bottoms, and no shirt. I brought myself next to her and hugged her to myself. She turned herself to me and let me hug her front to front, I pressed her bare breasts to my chest and felt her hold me. I kept my cock back so that it was not touching her bumping her. We kissed, it was a slow and beautiful kiss.

I said, "I love you." I could just see the whites of her eyes, her glistening white eyes. I saw her smile.

And she said, "I love you too. That was nice, so nice, thank you."

We fell asleep in each others arms, she in her panties and me in my pyjama bottoms, the most naked we had ever been together.

*********************

Lisa kept coming to the house after that, every day, more or less at the same time. We would talk for a little while, I would listen to her, show concern as she would recount stories. Of some days going better, some worse. But then she would lay on the couch, and I would begin to rub her back, sliding my hands over her clothes, her body. Touch her, her arms, hair, her legs. She letting me, yielding to my touch. Letting our senses slide together, as I sat and looking down at her, loving her smell, the feel of her. It was all ok, perfectly ok, becoming more normal with each passing day. It seemed to be helping. I loved the closeness, the silence, her breath, the rise and fall of her chest.

Today we were following the same pattern, it had been a week and some days of her coming right after school and leaving before my wife got home.

Today, as we were talking I mentioned that maybe we could go upstairs, that it might be better, more comfortable in the bedroom.

"Ok." 

We rose from the sofa and as we walked up the narrow staircase she said, "This is helping Matthew," She smiled up at me, following along as I looked back at her, "I been good all week." Sly smile, cheeks pink.

I said "Good. Good." Still imagining her in her room beneath the sheets.

Today Lisa was wearing a skirt and a top, separates, not just a dress. The skirt was pleated, though it still fell to her knees. The top was buttoned to the top, but it did not tuck in. This left a space of skin at her midriff, and as she lay on the bed, arms up by her sides I could see her top pull higher exposing her bare waist between the skirt and top, just peaking in and out of view. She lay right in the middle of the bed spread out, and facing me, eyes closed.

As I settled onto the mattress in that tiny room she said, "Here." And reaching back with her hand she tugged her top a little higher. "You can rub me up under my top. That will be a little better I think." 

I had never touched her skin below the neck. The offer sent my heart racing. Her long hair was fallen about her shoulders. I had rubbed her neck and cheeks a little, but nothing else. I moved myself near, sat right at her hip, trying to figure the best way to position myself. I kept one foot on the floor.

"I guess that would be ok." She did not move and I pressed my hands into the small of her back, letting my fingers spread and curl around each side of her bare waist, and began to draw small circles on her, same as always, up the small of her back and she exhaled deeply. This wonderful, relaxing sigh.

"That Ok?"

"Hmmm. Hmmm."

As I pressed my hands up beneath her top rubbing her bare back she began to talk this time, telling stories to me. One after the other, no particular order, no beginning or end, and I began feeling - not thinking - what a wonderful woman Lisa was becoming. My fingers pressed into her as she spoke, her powder skin, the warmth of my hands and her skin together, her breath, her voice. This small little room.




Pink Pearl



"I said before that I need to come out of my shell, and I am trying to. And I have been following your advice. I am using my fantasy now, to think of things I would do or should do. I imagine myself being able to walk up to someone, smile at them, feeling good about how I look and that I know what to say." She turned and looked at me just then, "Do you like the way I look?"

"Yes."

She dropped back down, "This outfit is new."

"It's very nice, beautiful."

"You have to say that . . .you're my brother. I want to buy a red skirt, I want to have my hair down at school so it hangs over my shoulder, and my eyes green. I want to put a little make up on. I want him to notice me as I walk up and sit by him."

"Who are we talking about?"

"That boy I told you about. Michael. I would sit by him. I think I would giggle." She laughed, "Even in my fantasy I \'d be nervous. But, now this is fantasy, I want to hold my arms around his neck and sit in his lap." She laughed.

I said, "I think that is the fantasies that are getting you into trouble."

She laughed again, "Oh, I could never DO that." I realized it had been a while since I had last heard her laugh.

At that moment she rolled onto her back, a kind of playful roll so she could look at me. This big smile on her face. Her white teeth and green eyes, sparkling. Her red lips.

"I decided I'm too shy." 

I hadn't realized, but her top had been pushed up even with her bra strap as she lay on her stomach and let me rub her. Now, turned around, her entire tummy was exposed to me, and I could see from her navel up to the cups of her bra. I quickly looked away, and she was realizing as well. Her hands instinctively covering herself and her pink cheeks and teeth still smiling up at me, but more frozen. Like a small animal that had been spotted. And looking down she just said "Oh," and tugged her top down a little.

I blinked a few times, looking down and then back at her. We said nothing, and I sat over her as she lay on her back and slowly lay my hand at her tummy. "I'll start here," I croaked.

She smiled, "K. your hands are warm."

"Good." I could barely speak. My cheeks burning.

Something had changed in that moment. I realize it now. Somehow, this transition occurred. She had turned her head to the side and closed her eyes holding her chin in the air, and hands held flat at her side. I can remember this moment like it was yesterday. I stroked her tummy, reaching my hand up under her top, staying within the frame of the bottom of her ribs and the line of her skirt. The line of her skirt was just below her navel. I could see her belly button, her concave tummy, her hips were below the waistband. I drew these light very small circles with my hand there, watching the downy hairs move beneath my finger tips. So light and soft, they were dark like her hair and rising from her navel. The lightest fuzz. And then, I began to let my hand draw larger circles, curling my fingers around her sides and up along her rib cage. She turned her head back again, I froze, I was noticing her every movement, her every breath.

"This ok?"

"Yeah it's fine."

She made no move.

And I continued to softly touch her, rub her, pressing my fingers into her flesh, rising higher and higher through her center, over her tummy, watching her, seeing her skin in the soft light of the room. The windows were open, I was seeing more flesh than I had in quite awhile, and it was having an effect on me. I could feel myself getting warmer, feel my penis stiffen. But I was rationalizing it all. I let my hand slide up, tracing the line of her ribs and under her arms, just touching the edge of her bra there, where the strap widens. My heart was beating madly, and my hand was trembling but I continued. This was the first time I thought, 'Maybe I should stop.'

Her top rose higher still and I could see the cups of her bra again, and she knew they were visible. Only this time she did not move. She continued to lay there contentedly. Smiling. Eyes closed. Breathing deep.

I let my hands open a little wider too, both hands on her now just sliding softly on her body, and for the first time I let them graze up onto her breasts touching the fabric, just over the edge of fabric that was holding her breasts. It was at that moment that she opened her eyes and looked back at me. 

I caught her gaze, we held this moment, looking into each others eyes, before I said, "Sorry."

She took a deep breath, saying nothing, and then turning her head a little, closed her eyes again. Permission?? No. Yes. It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. This was ridiculous. I had to stop. 

But instead of stopping and getting up and going downstairs, I convinced myself to simply continue rubbing her tummy, staying back on a path of small circles. This was ok. This was helping, It was ok. This was ok. I kept thinking of that. 

But, then my hand began to wander again, just the littlest bit. First following the waistband of her skirt, one side then the other; and then feeling the edge of her hip bone over the fabric again. That concave space over her abdomen, over the fabric between her hip bones, just before the little mound, the little rise between her legs. In one little moment I touched, let myself 'caress' her bare navel and tipped my finger just under the hem of the top of her skirt to do it. At that very moment, she brought her hand up, and took my hand in hers, lay set it back on her stomach.

"Sorry," I said again. I was blushing crimson I know it. I had gone to far. Was she mad? I took my hands away from her.

She said, "S'alright, it tickled. That's all." And then, rising from the bed she swung her legs around. "We should stop." She pulled her top down around herself.

I rose up from the bed, I wanted to apologize, but then it would be like an admission of thoughts I had, of I didn't know what to call it. Thoughts I did not want her to think I had. 

I just said, "Ok."

**********************

She did not show up the next day. I was watching out the window for her, I even went outside and stood out in the street, looking. Nothing. She did not come. I was nervous. She had come every day for weeks. Her absence pained me. I went back inside. Looking out the window again. Watching.

It was because of yesterday. I was wracked with guilt. I went back outside and walked toward her school, it was another windy, cold day. I pulled my coat around me and wandered around, what had I done. 

It was really awful.

She did not arrive the next day either, and so that evening I called.

"Hello."

"Lisa, Hi . . . it's Matthew." And then I froze, why was I calling? To ask why she didn't come over?? Why would she think I was expecting her too? She never came to the house more than once a week previously. It had only been over the past weeks that had been the case. Why should I be expecting more.

But now here I was, silence extending. She was on the phone with me. I was committed, "I was. I was just wondering where you were this afternoon?" I asked. Even as I said it I thought I should not have.

"At Home."

That is no answer. It didn't help, that was all she said.

"You doing alright, I mean..."

"Fine."

"Ok then. Bye."

I felt like an idiot. She had stopped me. What I had done was completely inappropriate. She would not be able to talk to me now, my trust violated. What kind of pastor would I be. I was in a frenzy, and then....Mandy came home.

She had no idea what was going on.

"What's for dinner?"

Shit. (I can't believe I had forgotten). I had done no planning. Dinner was my responsibility since I was the one at home in the afternoon. Now what would I say?

"I was writing a paper, and lost track of the time."

A lie. I was lying now. I began to sweat. A stiff smile on my lips.

"Need me to help edit?"

Shit. She always helped me with my papers. This was out of control.

"I thought we could go out tonight, I am tired of sitting around the house."

She looked at me, quizzically. I never wanted to go out. I never thought of things like this.

"You all right?"

"I'm FINE."

"Ok. We'll go out." She left, eyeing me, "Be right back. Let me change."

****************

The entire week went by without Lisa stopping by. 

I went over to my parents house and she was out with friends. Mandy was not happy with my moods. And to top it off, I could not stop thinking about that afternoon I had Lisa laying on our bed, rubbing her stomach, feeling the softness of her, that singular moment my hand slid under the edge of the top of her skirt. I thought of how low my finger tips had gone. I would lay in bed at night and think one inch below her navel. Two? My middle finger, maybe it was more. I looked at my abdomen. Where would that be? Oh god! Too far. When Mandy was in bed with me I was rubbing her at night now, she was liking that, no sex just soft massages and cuddling. It was really having a positive effect on our relationship. 

(How can something so wrong have a positive effect . . .)

But I would lay my hand on Mandy where I knew my fingers had been on Lisa. That place just below her navel. And holding my hand there. But it was dark. I could not see.

And then. . .

********************

Lisa was standing at my door. Her absence, then presence. A kind of happiness flooded me. I let her in, looking at her could see her eyes were red.

"The last few days have been bad Matthew. I haven't been good."

"I thought you might be mad at me?"

"What!" The look on her face was utter confusion. 

I had been wrong about that and let it drop. "It was just that. I hadn't heard from you and when I called. . ."

"Dad was in the room. I can't exactly talk about my problems with him there. I thought you would get the hint and call me back. I just figured you were busy, and I had been feeling so happy, so good. So . . . And you know what, you are right. It is stress. I was better after that SAT test, but then last Monday I had another test, and it did not go so well. But it did not go well for the whole class. He is letting it be a do-over. But I don't feel I will be doing any better. I had headaches from worry, and then . . ." 

She let the silence speak for what had happened as she walked into the room, sitting down by me. She began, "I've been praying, I have. And you are right Matthew, when I left here the other week, I felt like I was not even walking on the ground. I was so happy, I got home and cleaned up and went to bed, and . . . just fell asleep. So . . ."

She rose again and stepping toward the upstairs door, looking back at me, "Can we . . .? I mean, I felt so much better."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sure." I set my cup of coffee down.

"You want another massage? Is that it?" My heart was pounding in my throat. Here she was standing before me, kicking her shoes off. And we went up the stairs, she walking ahead of me.

She had another skirt and top. The top was loose, still buttoned to the collar. Her skirt was pleated, striped, still at her knees. She took her socks off too, was barefoot and lay down quickly on the bed with her hands out by her sides.

She was looking back at me and smiling. I felt a slight erection just from the sight of her, and the feeling of guilt was still lodged in my gut.

Go back downstairs.

I walked over and sat at the edge of the bed. "This is all right then?"

"What?"

She didn't move as she said that, and I sat down beside her and lay my hand on her back, and without saying a word, pushed her top up higher as I did. My heart soaring with the softness of her skin, and rubbing her bare back up through her spine. I paused at her shoulder blades. She had no bra on. That was my immediate realization. I had this moment where I sort of felt around. Said nothing, as I ran my hands over her utterly bare back. I realized her breasts were not covered, would she turn around? 

My hands felt numb and my heart was racing, tipping my hands around her sides just under her arms. Nothing. Bare skin. This week had been too emotional for me. I was a man of thought, these feelings, I didn't even know what was happening. Lisa had been gone for a week. I hadn't talked to her. I thought she was mad at me for . . . touching her below her navel one time, and there is no way I could share any of these feelings.

Lisa was oblivious.

I managed, "So is anything else going on? You were crying."

"Mmmm. No. Nothing else. Oh, I was going to try talk to Michael. I had it all worked out, and then I couldn't do it. So I am mad at myself about that too. I was crying about that, and then realizing that I am not, well . . . behaving right. I started to go to a Bible Group at school and thought that would be good. I like the people there fine. I'll keep going."

"Good. Good." I said in rote. I could feel her pressing up into my hand as I moved on her, the lightest pressure meeting my touch, telling me these stories as I was rubbing her shoulders, and curling my fingers over the top of her shoulders beneath her top. I had her top lifted now so that it was even with her underarms, just across the bottom of her shoulder blades, and I began to look at her, her narrow waist. I loved the way her back curved, the color of hair falling about her shoulders. I noticed the waistband of her skirt was just the tiniest bit lower, hanging just above her hips. She lay there before me, it almost looked as if she had no top on at all. I realized she was wearing her hair down.

"Your hair is down, like you wanted it."

"Yeah everyone loves it this way."

I began rubbing her sides now, up her sides, her bare skin. I was not NOT going to touch her inappropriately, like last time. I was sliding my hand along her side up toward her underarms and was just about to stop, when she snapped her arms down over my hands. 

"Tickles."

I was paralyzed, I had gone too far. What was happening, and then I stayed to the center of her back to the small of her back, and feeling her press into my hand, her closed eyes. In all my turmoil, I was still in heaven.

"Mmmmm. This is soo nice. I'm sorry I haven't had more time to stop over. There's been a lot of drama between dad and me. He is not happy that I am letting my hair down and wearing, I guess, more revealing clothes."

"Like?"

"Like what I got on now."

I thought about the top and skirt, I thought about the bra.

"So maybe I should have called you?" She looked back at me.

"No. No. I've been busy too. I was wondering a bit, a little worried maybe." There was hurt in my voice. I hadn't intended for there to be.

She rolled over just then and sat there, without warning, and her top was lifted high, exposing her middle, just across the bottom of her breasts, she pulled her top down a little. "I have been neglectful, and I'm sorry. It seems like no matter how hard I try to be there for everyone, someone gets neglected."

"No that is not it at all. I don't expect you to come here every day. I wasn't neglected. Don't think that."

It was at this very point that I wanted to say, we should go downstairs. Again, just at that moment. Go get some coffee. And in fact, my very next breath would have carried those words, but then . . .

She was pulling her top down, and asking, "Can you do my legs?" And she began to lay back down, but I realized she was not going to lay on her tummy. I realized that she probably did not want me to do her middle for the obvious reason that I had been indiscrete. I felt guilty all over again.

I simply said, "Alright." 

Even as I said that I wanted to correct myself and say, we had to go downstairs. But she began sliding herself higher on the bed and I noticed her bare feet. Her skirt was at her knees.

I began at her calves.

"My legs are stiff for some reason, must be the cold." I curled my hands around each leg and rubbing her feet first, then her ankles and her calves. I was wondering about the skirt, and the bottom hem laying across her knees, I continued to rub her legs over and over and over. She would lift each foot up and I would hold her leg in my hands. I kept looking at the hem of the skirt. That line. I kept looking and trembling.

Skin to skin, the warmth of her rising around me. And then I was rubbing her knees and letting my fingers, just their tips rise up beneath her hem. 

"This alright?" 

I must have asked that with guilt in my voice. She sort of smiled and looked at me. I had my hand laying just under her skirt. "Yeah. I asked you to rub my legs."

So I began rising my hands up on her thighs, each leg, one at a time. First one inch above her skirt, two inches above her skirt. I could feel every muscle, she slid her legs open slightly and with each stroke up her thigh her skirt rose, one inch, two inches, three. I went so slowly. Little squeezes, not hard but a pressing of my fingers into her, and then down the whole length of her legs, and her feet again. 

"So is being an adult pretty much a crazy juggling act?"

It was then, at that moment she asked this that I could just see her panties, this shadowed view of the crotch of her panties. They covered her completely, were white. Harmless really. Her skirt was at least six inches above her knees, bunched up in the middle. I looked at her, eyes closed. She had just spoken to me. Her breathing was soft. She was waiting for an answer.

At first my mind was utterly blank. My voice was odd in my ears, "Yes. Pretty much. But it's . . .uh. . . the changes. It's the change that is confusing. Once you...uh....get into like school, uh, college, it sort of . . ."

My voice trailed off.

She began again, "It all seems really hard to me. So much at the same time." She rattled off how she would have to pay bills, own a car, a house, or rent, food, groceries, raise a family, be married. "It just seems impossible."

"Not all at once," I said as I continued to stroke her to rub her, and focusing now on the inside of her thighs, and eying her panties. She had to know. At the moment I touched the inside of her thighs I felt her tense, and her voice trail off. She was silent. I paused slightly, measuring her, waiting for her hand to move me away, to close her legs. Something. But her movements began to match my touch, pressing her leg against me, the slight undulation of her hips. I watched her tip her chin higher and her breathing become heavier as I lay my hand high up on her thighs, so that my finger tips were touching the edge of her panties.

I began to stroke my thumb down the inside of her thigh, over and over and over. She letting me.

I watched as her hips began to move more noticeably, still the slightest of movements, but I loved the look of it, the way she moved to my touch, this tipping of her hips as I kept rubbing her there. Soft, steady firm. We said nothing. I kept rubbing the inside of her thighs. At one point I was going to let my hands drift down the length of her legs again. But as I began to move lower, she breathed out, "No. Just. . . Keep doing that."

So I did. Gradually more insistently, this steady rhythm that she was matching in her movements, her chin was turned up and she lay her hands across her middle. Her top was still raised and her hands were moving lightly on her stomach. And after about ten minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at me. We stared at the other, said nothing. I was utterly breathless, and to be honest I was unable to talk. My thumb on each thigh was pressing up high, not over the fabric, but I was following the line of her panties right at her thigh, each side of her labia, as high as I could without moving my fingers from where they were - no further - the line I had lay in the sand. It was a rapid movement now, steady, and her breathing was getting heavier. She was getting so hot and warm and moving as I rubbed her, pressing in. Undulating her body, up and down. Breathing faster.




Pink Pearl



She had closed her eyes again, and I felt her squeeze the muscles of the inside of her thighs just then, felt her hips begin shaking. Her skirt was still up, her white panties which had been riveting my attention were in full view as I watched her squeeze again. I could see the wetness of her, the crotch of her panties were completely exposed, and her legs were open wider, with this light stain running up through the middle of her legs. Wet, so wet, making them more translucent. I could see wisps of hair beneath the fabric, and she squeezed her thighs, bringing legs together several times, pushing my hands together as I held them between her legs now, and I was matching my movements to hers. 

These unspoken movements we shared, the rise of her hips with my thumps sliding along the inside of her thighs following the hem of her panties, scratching her labia with my thumb through the fabric. Each upward movement was just touching the fabric of her panties, and as she squeezed my thumb was touching the fabric. Its heat, the heat of her, I could feel the wetness of her each time she squeezed pushing my hands together up between her legs. Her trembling hips. I was still moving faster, as was she. I watched her lick her lips, I watched her stroke her stomach now, the pretense was gone. 

She whispered out, "A little faster."

And I obliged. I did not say a word, I moved upon her. My cock was hard in my pants, but I was not even thinking about that. And then, she tensed, hard and curved her back, held her breath and let it out deeply, making no sound. A slight shudder, a whimper, and then a jerking of her hips, two jerks of her hips, and she lay her head to the side. Relaxing. Now unmoving, nothing. 

I let go.

My senses were coming back to me, and I realized that she had just orgasmed. I had made her orgasm, she came here and got me to give her a massage and now I had masturbated her. I was only touching her thighs . . . but, I was realizing that she would be realizing the same thing as me. She would not open her eyes for me. She simply lay there. 

What would we say?

I realized too that her top was up high, exposing the bottoms of her breasts. I could the soft swell of each breast, could not see her nipples. I kept looking up at her hand laying on her stomach and up to her breasts. Her skirt still raised high, could see her panties. Her breasts were not small like I had thought. All these thoughts running around between us.

Silence.

Then, the door downstairs.

"Mandy!"

Lisa jumped up out of the bed, pulling her top down, and then tugging her skirt to her knees and swiveling to the floor. 

"You have to go out the back way."

" I need my shoes, it's cold outside." I looked at her as I was opening the door. Looked at her bare feet. She continued, "My shoes are downstairs."

"I'll get them. I'm so sorry Lisa. I . . ."

She eyed me. "No. . . Just go, downstairs. We can go. It's ok. I've been up here before. What would Mandy suspect?"

She was eyeing me. All guilt. It was my admission. She was right. This was ridiculous. Still just the word suspect, it was out. What had we done. Suspect, what would Mandy suspect. 

"Ok. Ok. Lets go downstairs. You, ok?"

She just nodded. Not looking at me, holding her disheveled hair out of her eyes.

We walked downstairs and saw Mandy, I did not know what to say. We looked like we had been out in the sun all day.

Lisa went for her shoes and just said, "Thanks for the pictures."

I said with a vacant certainty, "Yeah, ok."

She looked at me with a that-was-interesting grin and left. I was crestfallen. This was not happening.

And she slipped out fast. I had no chance to talk this through, I had no idea if she was ok. This parting was supposed to be nonchalant, like every other. Without Mandy. 

I looked at my wife. She was right, Mandy 'suspected' nothing.

********************

Later that evening I went outside for a walk.

I got on my cell phone and called Lisa, "Hello. Lisa? It's me . . ."

"I can't talk now."

She hung up.

I stared up at the sky.

Shit.

********************

To make matters worse, Lisa had a conference that I was going to go with her on. Lisa did not come over for the rest of the week and then, we were out of town. I decided not to call her, to put the whole thing out of my mind, to not think about it at all. Time would heal. 

By the time I got back everything would be normal, back to normal. I vowed no more massages. 

I kept all this turmoil from Mandy who was working out her schedules and what seminars she wanted to go to. At the same time I was like this dog in heat. I thought about, could not stop thinking about, what I had done with my own sister. I would look at my hands, and think of where they had been. I could literally remember each stroke on her body.

The first night in the hotel room, we had flown in and arriving late threw our stuff against the wall and were getting ready for bed. I was still in a heat, my thoughts on the long flight had been entirely composed of Lisa. 

Mandy went into the bathroom and exited in her typical flannel nightgown. I stripped down to my boxers and wore no pyjamas. She eyed me as I got into the bed. 

"I am tired."

Her mantra.

But something had snapped in me. I don't really know what it was, but I rolled to the middle of the bed and began to pull her nightgown off. She held to it, scolding. 

I said, "You don't need that thing. This room is plenty warm." She paused and as I pulled at her, she relented. The lights were out, and she lay down next to me. I reached over and also unsnapped her bra and more. I began to slide it off her arms. 

"What are you doing?"

"Taking your bra off."

"We are not doing anything tonight." I was to have none of it.

I quoted, "Wives be obedient to your husbands." And as I said those words I was pulling her closer toward me, and laying my hands down between her legs, pressing between her legs. 

"What are you talking about?" She said. "Stop it. Matthew, stop it." And she was trying to slide away from me. She quoted, "Husbands respect your wives." I had my hand between her legs then, ribbing her there, holding her to me, began to slide my hands over her panty covered pussy. I remember thinking that very word as I held her.

Pussy.

I was holding my hand over the crotch of her panties. 

I said, "Take these off."

"I will not." She began struggling, moving herself away.

"Then I will take them off of you."

She froze. Silence.

She did not move. I held her to me and kissed her, pulling her onto me, she was stiff and while not kissing me back, returned the kiss. I rubbed the small of her back, felt her soft skin as she press against me, closed my eyes. Imagining. I slid the back of her panties down exposing her ass. She was not stopping me.

"What has gotten into you? Stop." She said, reaching back to pull her panties back up. 

"I want to sleep with you tonight. I need you."

At those words she softened. "You NEED me?"

I held her to me. I was trembling.

"You've never said that before." I felt her slide close and her one leg rise up over my leg. Her panties were down in back, tipped over her ass. 

I lay my hand over her bare ass and said again, "Take these off." 

The confusion in my mind as I said those words. I was trying to get my wife's panties off, but my fantasies were about taking Lisa's panties off. These images in my mind.

I could have lifted my hand up and catching the hem of her panties under her skirt, slid them down off her legs. I was convinced at that moment she would have let me. I would have watched her bare pussy moving as I slid my fingers along her thighs, watched the juices that stained those panties bubbling out of her, the parting of her pussy lips, my thoughts were wild. All these images tumbling out of me. The dark hairs of her pussy translucent through the thin fabric of her panties, the same color as her long dark hair, the same color as the downy soft hairs of the small of her back.

Mandy rolled onto her back and I could feel her panties sliding down her legs. In the darkness I knew she was naked. We would have sex naked for the first time. I took my boxers off, and felt my wife's hand grasping my hard cock. She touched me, held me stroked me. I felt her move toward me and I scooped her up and pulled her to me like I never had before. I had never been so hungry for her body before, I drank her in.

We pressed together, utterly skin to skin. Naked. I kissed her soft, and felt her mouth open and melt into me. It was wild. We lay on our sides and I felt her open her legs, felt the hair of her pussy against me, moving on my cock and then pushing between her legs, we were fucking. We were fucking. That is the word I use. It was not 'it' not 'the act' She was hungry, I could feel how she wanted me the way she moved on my body. The feel of her breasts moving up and down on my chest, sitting on me as I fucked up against her, falling down on my chest as I rolled her onto her back, and her legs opening wide, knees up. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and she drew her nails down my back - she had never done that before.

New, all brand new. She whispered to me, "You need me. Oh, Matthew." 

I was kissing her again, could see the whites of her eyes and her teeth, she had this open mouthed smile, this panting breath as I began to fill her, pound her. Pressing into her so deeply and rising up. She pulling her knees up higher letting me in as deeply as I could go. I fucked her, deep growls coming from me, holding my mouth to her ear and whispering, "I love you so much." 

She held me tight to herself, and her small voice coming back, "I'm going to cum." The cry of her, the pain in her voice, she was loud and her body began to writhe against me. It occurred to me that my wife of two years may never have had an orgasm with me. "My god. Oh my god," she was panting. 

And in that moment, it flashed in my mind I had made two women cum this past week, and then I was moving fast on my wife with her legs open, pounding her, feeling her coming down from her orgasm and I kept fucking her, like some animal fucked into her, until my cock was filling with cum, cumming hard into her. 

She was, whimpering, "Slow, slow down, ahhhhh, too sensitive." Clawing my back and pulling at me, her head moving one way and the other. "Too . . ." And I was filling her, pumping cum into her, never have I felt so powerful, so alive, naked with my wife for the first time, clinging to each other. The sweat on our bodies, our eyes and limbs holding to each other clinging. I softened and lifting myself lightly looked into her eyes and kissed her softly, still feeling myself inside of her. Feeling now for the first time, the softness of her belly, her breasts pressed against my chest, our naked bodies twining together.

"What happened?" She cooed at last. I rolled on my side and she lay her leg over mine and molded her body to mine. She did not rise. 

"You need to go to the shower?"

"In a little bit. What happened?"

"I made love to you."

"Not like that."

"I don't know. I just NEEDED you then."

She nuzzled her mouth into my neck and gave me these delicious little kisses. She began to cry.

I lay there looking off in the distance, realizing. 

Guilt.

This gift from God.

*******************

My whole world was in a whirlwind when I got home. The weekend was the best sex I had ever had in my life. That first night we slept naked in each others arms. Mandy wanted to have sex the next morning, and every night of the conference. When we went to the conference dinner, we looked like lascivious fools, we could scarcely keep our hands off one another. It was truly wonderful. She was happier than I had ever seen her.

And the unspoken piece was that somewhere, somehow I knew it was all because of my sister Lisa, whom I could not stop thinking about since the last week. It was awful. Obsessive. Wonderful. I could not make sense of this. I should be feeling so happy this day, and I was. And yet this knot in my stomach. I felt awful, filled with desires I should not be having.

I needed to find a way to meet up with Lisa, I was not convinced she would come back to the house and I didn't want mom or dad around when I talked to her. I knew it had to stop. I wanted it to. But when I would think about it, in the moment . . . so sad to lose what we had, and then saying to myself. It is innocent. 

When we got back, I kept trying to call her, but she could not talk and I stopped trying because I did not want to weird her out more than she probably was.

I finally walked to my parents house in the afternoon on a day I knew mom and dad weren't home, and suspected she probably was. I knocked and she answered.

Her eyes met mine, and we just looked at the other. She backed away and said, "Come in."

I sat down near her, I felt awkward, like I was sitting in some odd position. I don't know if that is how I always sat, I was just so self conscious, and she sat at the other end of the sofa. Looking down, taking short glances my way.

I simply started, "We need to talk."

She said in a flat voice, "You going to talk about what happened?"

"Yes."

"I should not have come over that day. . . it was a bad day. I just wanted you to give me that massage, like you do. I thought maybe . . . I don't know."

"I did it. You did nothing wrong. I feel that what I did was wrong." I emphasized 'I' 

We both paused, she looked over at me. She got a wry grin just then, or I thought that is what I saw, "Everything alright at home? With Mandy I mean?"

"Yes."

"I don't want my problems to mess up YOUR life." I didn't like how she said your.

"Look, Lisa, you are not messing up my life. I had an idea, a way to help. I tried to help, and it WAS working. I like helping you, listening to you. And . . ."

"But you can't know what it is I am thinking. How can you?"

"You have been telling me."

"No I haven't. . . Not everything."

I paused.

"I can't. It's too . . . embarrassing."

I moved a little closer.

"Why?"

"Lets just say that we have a problem, leave it at that. You obviously felt guilt about what we did, trying to get me to sneak out the back like that. I don't want to do . . . 'It'. . anymore. You are right. We need to cool it."

I didn't like the insinuation that we were having a sexual relationship, that I felt guilt about it. The idea overwhelmed me. Is that what this was?

"Can we just have a moment here, to figure out what it is that is happening. What it is we are talking about. No more pronouns. Lisa, last week I was giving you a massage, to relax you and I believe that you had an . . . orgasm from it. I did not mean to do that." She looked up at me sharply, and I continued, "That happened but nothing else. There is nothing else but that MISTAKE."

She kept staring at me then. Like I had really hurt her. I saw tears in her eyes, she turned away and would not let them go. She steeled herself, then looked back at me, with what I saw as a flash of anger, no tears, just nodding her head. 

I continued, "And that was wrong. Yes, we have a problem, the whole 'massage' idea was a bad one, I think. So, you need to talk to me, and that is probably where we need to start. I don't think this is necessarily 'stress' anymore. I still want to help. But Lisa . . . " I moved closer again and took her hands into mine, but she pulled them away. "You are a beautiful girl, with so much ahead, so many boyfriends and relationships and loves of your life."

She began to cry.

"We ok then?"

Silence.

"No more massages then?"

She shook her head.

"I can still listen."

She said nothing.

I left.

**********************

I walked out of the house satisfied, but deflated. I felt like I was walking with weights on.

The days that followed did not change the hollowness, though I knew time would help the memories fade, and that I was doing the right thing. And as day after day after day went by, I worried that in fact I had probably ruined my relationship with my sister. We could never be what we were before. I put the thought away, I had to control this, box it, contain it.

I wanted her, her closeness, our intimacies, but not through touch.

*****************

A few days later she burst into my house in the afternoon, furious. God she was mad at me. 

She went into a rant, "You have no idea what I have been going through, you don't care . . . " I could not even follow it.

"Hold on hold on."

She proceeded to explain that this 'problem' of hers had been going on for a long time now, and that she needed someone to talk with, but had no idea who. And that she had turned to me, had trusted me. 

"You didn't care, you didn't listen. You just, all pompous sitting there with your books and, you became . . . part of the problem."

"We talked. You told me what you wanted to tell me."

"No I didn't. You didn't listen. This is HARD. It takes time. Instead, YOU are the one who started touching me. Not me."

My eyes burned. "I said I made a mistake."

"And then. And then you come over to the house and basically say you don't want any contact with me. Make it so now I can't even TALK to you."

"I never said that. I said the opposite."

She paused. "Yeah right."

I was at a loss. 

She was pacing me and eyeing me. She started with "I should just . . ." I was afraid what words she would use to finish that and I sat there petrified now. She could ruin my life. 

Then she turned, "You really want to listen?" 

I said I would listen, and she began:

She stood at the window as she spoke, "I had my first orgasm in the bath. I learned how to masturbate from a radio show. I was listening to love lines... and the operator for that show was talking to a girl who'd called in, saying she couldn't have an orgasm. So the operator told her that there was this one trick that would never fail. Use the running water in the tub. So I tried it, unsuccessfully at first, then one day something just... clicked. And it happened. And I lay there in the bath thinking... yes! Now I know what all the fuss is about. And for a long time, the only way I ever had an orgasm was in the water, in the bath. I used the stream of water, running real slow until I could feel myself, the wave, the pleasure over my body. I tried to stop myself from doing that, but it was so easy. I knew it was wrong, and I did it anyway. . ." 

"Still, I practiced, learned different ways of manipulating the water on my . . . I learned that the longer I prolonged it, the better it would be." 

Lisa paused, looking at me, seeing her effect on me. Satisfied she went and sat down at the table, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat with the cup in her hand, swirling it around as she continued.

"I learned later that I liked to dip my finger into my vagina, just a little. That the skin around the opening is . . . sensitive. So slick and silky and just incredible." She closed her eyes, set the cup down. "To rub it just the tiniest bit... mmm." She eyed me as she said that.

I fidgeted, said nothing. I could feel myself growing hard. My face flushed. 

"A finger in my vagina, the water running on meI could cum any time I wanted. Oh, and my nipples are incredibly sensitive, one especially, my right one. I love the way the water would fill the bath while I played, reaching up over my ears, the warmth. I would lay in the water covering my ears, drowning out all sound, the whole world. That incredible rush, just before I'd cum, that's the best part. When you know you're running headlong into it. So many times I'd lay there, trying to make it last even longer, and run out of hot water."

"This year I finally gave myself an orgasm using just my hand. I just lay in my bed under the covers, exploring and felt this bump, this little pink pearl, my clitoris. Wow!! I don't remember all the details, but gradually it got better and better and better. It was such a high. When everyone got home I was sitting on the couch - After - all smiles, and I loved that no one knew. That I looked the same. But I also realized my feelings were getting out of my control. I realized too my fantasies as I masturbated, what I thought of, and it was then I realized it had to stop. But I couldn't."




Pink Pearl



"I found an old porno tape at a friends house, and I took it. Stole it. It's the only porno I've ever seen. It's a bunch of home scenes, all put together on a tape each one is short, with this big thing in the middle called 'Gang Fuck Debutantes.'"

I didn't know where to look. She noticed my discomfort. "Still want to listen? Like you said."

"Yes." My voice sounded uncomfortable and distant.

"The scenarios are stupid, no plot. There are a few scenes though I really liked, and I started to watch AND masturbate. I went back to this friends house to see if I could find any more. And thinking the whole time how out of control this was. How crazy digging through their house when no one was looking. The pleasure was controlling my life. How wrong it was. I know. I found no more tapes, but I did find a magazine next filled with all these true life erotic stories that people had written. I became so enthralled with them. This was pure fantasy, better than a video. I'd sit there and read them and lose track of time. I loved them. I could imagine it in my mind, so much better than watching anything. So I'd read a bunch of stories until I was just aching, and do like I told you before: prop my legs up and have at it. I like to arch my back a little. Just how I did the other day. YOU know." She caught my gaze, smiled an angry smile. 

"I also started to masturbate in the swimming pool at school, which was risky to say the least. After school. The water again, only in the pool there are jets, at the sides. There's this one spot on it that has a jet that comes out really fast and hard, and I can turn it at the perfect angle.... yum. I can hang on the side of the pool like I'm just resting and totally get off. So I guess I'm a water baby. I love the water more than anything, it's just a different feeling than my fingers."

"And . . . Remember when we all went camping in August. I brought along some of those stories in my backpack and in the evening while everyone lay in their sleeping bags. . . I was sooo wet and turned on. I would touch myself, sliding my fingers inside, pulling them out. Then again, and the best part was trying to stay quiet, no one ever knew. We all lay there in the tent and I was masturbating the whole time, just two feet away from you." My heart was racing, remembering, thinking of what she was doing. 

"But, this hunger just keeps getting stronger, and when I want it to go away it won't. That is when I started to worry. The more I try not to, the more I wanted to. And my fantasies, all these stories. Images in my head. It has become a fire inside of me. I have perfect pictures of making out, what it would feel like to just sit on some boys lap and kiss, run my fingers over his skin, kiss his eyelids. That is what I want now, for real. Bury my face in someone's chest, and look up into their eyes, tilt my head into kiss. Just lose myself, spend all day in bed kissing, touching, learning my body with someone else. Sigh. These thoughts won't go away."

"Satisfied? That's why I didn't think I could talk about it Matthew. Turns out though you didn't even want to listen."

Her eyes welling in tears now. "You didn't care, did you? You just start touching me."

"Lisa wait. Wait. Just, don't SAY anything."

She spun at me. "Yeah. See. Precious you. Protect you." 

"No, I . . ."

"See!" She left. All I heard was the door slam.

*******************

I was afraid to call now, and even more afraid what she might say.

An email came though.

Lisa88: Hi. I kind of lost it. I been thinking, and I am sorry. I should not have come over. I'm not as mad as you think I am. Don't hate me forever. No one will know, ever. It's ok. Just give me some time.

Love Lisa

I emailed back: I am so sorry. I never ever wanted to hurt you. I love you too. I am sorry you did not feel I could listen to you. I hope you have not lost your trust in me forever. I will wait.

Matthew

Lisa88: I am just very confused and I think you got in the crossfire. Thanks for understanding me. Truth. You know me better than anyone (especially now!!). Don't think I didn't like, in a way, what we did. But don't think I am an awful person either. Some things can't be explained. You have helped me, even though you might not, and I might not have let you, think so. I don't think I am making much sense. But, maybe I'll come over next week. We can talk some more. We'll see. 

I been doing better. In Him, Lisa

*****************

Every so often my parents want us all to get together for dinner, and they pick a place. So mom, dad and Lisa, Mandy and I were going to meet at a restaurant together. They like old steak houses, the kind with lots of leather, dark wood and red vinyl; and this one was an out of the way, very dark and very red place. It took me a while for my eyes to adjust, and in the low light I was looking around for them. I spotted Lisa first, by herself, and my heart near exploded. This was the first time I had seen her since she came over and yelled at me. She was standing over by a crowd of people near the bar. None of us drank, but the bar was near the hostess station and there was a bit of a wait to get in. I didn't see mom or dad anywhere, Mandy was following behind me. 

I took Mandy's hand as we walked through the crowd and turning back to her I said, "I found Lisa." 

She nodded and followed along. 

As I approached I tapped Lisa on the shoulder. "Hi," I said quickly. She turned and smiled. As our eyes met I could still see some vestige of nervousness in her, and I quickly gave her a brief hug. I don't know why, and I don't normally, but I wanted some contact and to sort of indicate to her it was ok. But the thing is, as I pressed her to me in that tiny moment, I could feel her press back. It was imperceptible and probably all in my head, but it sent this adrenaline rush through me. 

She leaned back again and said, "Mom and dad are standing up there," she pointed. "They don't believe they will be able to hear when our names are called." I looked at her again, I guess trying to read her expressions, but it was blank. Normal really. Was she ok?

Lisa looked around my shoulder and smiled, "Hi Mandy."

"Where's mom and dad?" Mandy asked. Lisa pointed. Then Mandy let go my hand and said, "I need to run to the ladies room be right back." A quick panic enveloped me, and I watched Lisa look at Mandy then me, same look as mine, as she turned and walked off. 

I stood by her trying to think of something to say, "Thanks for the emails." Thinking inside, what a stupid thing to say.

"What? Oh yeah." She smiled, "I'm better now."

"Good. If there's . . ."

She laughed just then, and I relaxed a little. "No. No. You've done enough, really." 

In order for us to hear each other we had to lean in pretty close together, that and not being sure what she might say had me feeling very nervous. She was leaning against the wall beside me with her head turned looking at me, and I was facing her at an angle so that our feet were practically touching. I stepped to the side so we were leaning against the wall touching shoulders, and as I did that reached out my hand and lay it on the small of her back. She didn't move or even look over at me. I rubbed a small circle there softly and leaned to her again, "I'm glad that you still want to be in the same room with me."

Lisa looked over at me at that point, no reference to the fact I was just then rubbing her back and said, "I didn't know what to expect. S'ok."

"Me either," she let out a tense sigh and we both relaxed a little bit. I simply stroked her back, up to her shoulder blades and letting my hand drift lower at one point onto the back of her skirt, holding my hand over her butt, right between her hips. It felt soft, thin, light, like silk.

I can't explain it, but I wanted contact. I wanted that and I needed to know, she would let me. She did not move at all. 

I squeezed her a little, rubbing my hand over her in a manner no one could see at all. My heart was pounding. Pushing the envelope. Would she stop me? I wanted to know. She did not move at all, at one point she just sort of looked at me, eyed me with a sort of 'Behave,' but she was accepting my touch. 

Suddenly, she turned her head quickly saying in a low voice only I could hear, "Mandy is coming."

A warning. Not stopping me, warning me. Complicity. I stood beside her, moving a little closer to hide our contact, but my touch, my caress over her back, down to her thighs continued. Only better hidden. Our secret as we waited, even with Mandy standing right in front of us. 

"I hope we don't have to wait too long, I'm hungry," Mandy said raising on tippy toe to see mom and dad. My hand running back and forth over Lisa's butt, down her thighs and back up to her waist. She simply leaned against that wall beside me, letting me. 

It was not long and mom and dad called out, "They called our name." I didn't hear it. But Mandy did. I looked as they were motioning to us, and I let go.

Lisa pushed herself from the wall, looking back at me. "Lets go." Mandy took my hand.

My sister walked ahead of me and I followed, watching her walk, the sway of her hips imagining the feel of her just then, I loved the way she moved. My hands on her. Her warmth. Guilt. Somehow I had this sense that I should not have done what I had just done, but for some reason I wanted to know everything was ok. And it was something else, we had a contact now that I did not really want to lose, whether I admitted it or not. It had brought me to life somehow, and was difficult to control when I saw her. Mandy and I had never been closer, more intimate, and it made no sense. 

Our table was a red vinyl booth, that wrapped around a dark oak table on three sides. We got into the booth as we had walked up to it: Mom, Dad, Lisa, Me and Mandy. Mom and Dad were on one side, and I should have sat so that it was Mandy and I on the other side, with Lisa in between. But I continued to slide so that I sat next to Lisa. 

As the waitress discussed the menu, I realized that I could not even see the writing on the menus it was so dark. I had to lean forward and hold the writing under the light to see. It was darker than the entrance. We ordered some sodas and an appetizer and the waitress left. I wanted to have a wine in the worst way, something to lighten my head. My heart was pounding and all I could think about was how after so many weeks, I was sitting right next to Lisa in this dark booth. 

Conversation was pleasant, mom and dad talked about what vacations they were going to go on this winter, I talked about Bible School, Mandy talked about insurance. Lisa even talked some about school and getting out and where she was thinking of going to college. The waitress returned with drinks and food, and it was during this period of commotion, ordering, menus and plates being handed around that I lay my hand over Lisa's knee. Nothing more, I simply held my hand there, covering her bare knee with my hand. At moments I would let go and drink or eat, but each time I lay it back, rubbing my fingers on her skin. The conversation continued as if nothing were happening, just this quiet intimacy between us being shared as everyone talked. She was letting me.

So . . . I began to rub her knee a little more and slide my hand up her leg. As my hand slid higher her dress moved higher with it so I was rubbing her bare thighs. I would turn just the littlest bit and look sidelong to see what she thought, if there was anything I could read in her expression. She did not acknowledge my touch at all. The whole meal was completely normal. I began to lengthen my strokes along the outside of her leg, pushing her skirt up higher and higher as I did, and simply run my hand on her legs, the outside the top, inside her thighs a little. 

At some point my mom said to Lisa, "You seem to be doing better. I told you that once those tests were done you would feel fine again."

"You were right mom. Now I can worry about being accepted into college, leaving home and the rest of my life."

"It all works out, somehow," my dad piped in.

Mandy asked if she had any boyfriends. Lisa glanced my way before an answer, and demurred a "No."

At her no, I playfully squeezed her thigh. 

My sister continued talking with Mandy about friends and boys and weekend parties, and the sports team. When dinner came I would let go of her only to eat a little bit, and I was not eating very fast. After what seemed like forever, I tipped my fingers so that they were running along the inside of her thigh, sliding my hand a little higher and a little higher with each stroke from her knees up the inside of her thighs. 

Her skirt was loose and it moved up so lightly and easily. The fabric had to be some kind of light silk, and it was beginning to bunch up high in her lap. I cannot say at what point it was, but my hand I knew was sliding precariously close to her panties, the heat of her intoxicating me as I teased her with my fingers, when she reached down grabbed my hand. It was a light hold on me, and I immediately stopped. She simply ever so slowly slid my hand back down her leg setting my palm back onto her knee. Not off, just down to her knee and letting my open hand slide luxuriously over her leg all the way. I simply, obediently let her move me, and lay my hand there with her hand held on top mine.

I looked into my sister's eyes at that moment and she smiled back at me as her fingers squeezed my hand, then let go. This was all occurring invisibly. Our secret. 

Mom and dad continued to talk, Lisa sharing in. Lisa was talking to Mandy now about when we were younger. She cryptically noted how I could never leave her alone, how I was always getting into her things. 

I defended myself, "That's not true." 

She looking over my way, "You would spy on me, deny it." My cheeks reddened, and I remembered what she was talking about. "You were always taking my things, hiding them." 

I said, "You were the sneaky one." Steering the conversation away. 

She was enjoying this, the double entendre shared only between us. 

I moved my hand around her leg, so now my finger tips were rubbing her skin just below the knee. I began to roam again, up along her leg, the outside of her leg, and tipping my hand once again caressing the inside her thighs, slowly rising higher and higher all over again. My hand would touch her knees and then rising up higher again, my finger tips touching her, so tender. Her skirt was still bunched up high on her legs.

Finally, reaching higher I let the tips of my fingers just graze the edge of her panties. I did not know when it would be, but I felt the fabric and ran my fingers over her with the lightest touch. She quickly shifted herself, closing her legs onto my hand. But not quite, as I held my hand there clamped between her thighs, I began to waggle my fingers, bumping and touching the crotch of her panties. Then, her hand again, pulling me from between her legs and back to her knee. This time eyeing me with a hint of concern. A sort of no no no, her 'Behave' look. I imagined her wagging her finger at me. Tsk. Tsk.

But this time, breaking free I stroked the inside of her thighs, in long soft strokes. I felt her legs relax, opening a little bit as I caressed one leg then the other with the front of my hand and then the back of my hand, up and down her long legs. She leaned a little toward me, like she was going to whisper and I leaned her way as well. I was expecting a curt stop it, anything. Instead she breathed to me in a very low voice, "Not so high." 

It was that remark that led me to want to touch her, giving me license. To this point, honestly, I hadn't. It was more like curiosity, a 'would she let me?' She was teasing me, I realize how she was from the beginning. But her remark 'not so high' made my heart pound, and my mouth go dry. I wanted to feel her. Touch her. Would she let me? What would she do? 

And after a little while, I let my hand reach 'high' and I ever so lightly curled my fingers right over those soft cotton panties, and scratched my nails over the fabric. Long scratched of my fingers up between her legs, over the fabric right between her legs. Her head went low, in an involuntary movement, I could see the pleasure wave through her as she looked over at me. Her legs held open and the arch of her back as she tipped her hips back. That arch she had so exquisitely described to me.

And a light imperceptible moan. She did not stop me this time.

She was not moving away, not trying to shake me off. She was wet, I could feel her juices dampening the fabric. I pressed a little harder feeling the outline of her little pussy there under the table. Her skirt bunched up in her lap, her legs open and her hips tipping back and forth to my touch. I loved the feel her the slightest undulation of her body on my hand, the tiniest circle being drawn over my fingers. Her hand reaching out, grabbing my thigh, squeezing me before turning and wiggling herself away from me so that my hand had to drop off her at that moment. She looked around, realizing what she was doing, the way she had suddenly slid away from me. She continued with a reach, "I need something out of my coat," she said. Digging in her pockets, for nothing, she then slid back taking my hand in hers and leaning toward me again whispering, "You need to stop. They'll know."

Holding hands was nice. I imagined not losing our secret contacts, caresses, the feel of her. It could continue. At the very least she wasn't angry, would keep our 'secrets.' Feeling a sort of euphoria as my thoughts ran this direction, and her presence worked its magic on my brain, I simply began rubbing the palm of my sister's hand and to play with her fingers, feeling her respond and hold each of my fingers, stroking my hand in return, rubbing our palms together. 

In our parents usual fashion, they abruptly announced they had to be in church, that they were late. "Look at the time," dad exclaimed, they were running late now for their prayer group. Lisa piped up, letting go of my hand, "But I have to get to Katie's, we were going to study some tonight." 

"Well, we're late." 

"You could have at least told me." 

The conversation went on like that.

I piped in without a thought, "I can take her." 

She turned suddenly to look at me. 

Mandy then inserted, "I have to get home myself." 

I added, "Well someone has to take Lisa to Katie's."

Mom and dad said that they could take Mandy home and still make it to church. "You go ahead and take Lisa, Matthew. Thank you."

The look on Lisa's face in that moment. Realizing she was left with ME. A sort of concerned shock at the turn of events. Honestly, she probably thought she could escape me tonight. It was probably why she was willing to be so 'naughty.' People around, there was a sort of built in limit. Besides that, after the last half hour, I cannot say either of us were thinking too clearly and to be suddenly alone. Really, I wasn't thinking a thought in my head, and the only thing I did know is that I wanted to be with her longer.

Everyone got up and I began to gather my things. I said, "I have to go to the bathroom." But I was stalling for time. I wanted everyone else to leave. I wanted to wait, be slow. Have my time with Lisa alone. "Wait for me," and I said my goodbyes leaving Lisa at the front of the restaurant.

When I got back I smiled at her and simply said, "My car is out back, it's not too far." She followed behind, and we fell silent. I imagined her eyes on me as we walked. I looked back, "Come on. Here." 

I held out my hand to her, the hand she had been holding for the last ten minutes and she took it. The noise of the restaurant fell away as we walked outside, and a silence enveloped us. My heart was pounding, I squeezed her hand as we walked. She squeezed mine. We walked. I really don't know how to describe where we were at just then, and I didn't even know. The energy between us was electric. Her eyes, the way we looked at each other. Gradually, the people were dropping away from view. 




Pink Permission Slip



I bought my first vibrator today. It was quite the shopping expedition. I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted, but I thought I better get to it. After all, I had just celebrated my 40th birthday, and with it I had this epiphany that I had experienced every decade prior. 

Looking back to my first decade...at age 10 I got my ears pierced. It was my first physical decree as a baby-woman...then soon after followed my period and a whirlwind of raging hormones. At twenty, I celebrated the friendships I had made, the lovers I enjoyed, philosophical questioning, educational pursuits, drinking and drugs. At thirty, I pronounced that this would be the decade I wouldn't take shit from anyone anymore. When I turned forty, I decided it was time to celebrate life, laugh more and have fun. 

I was happily married, had two wonderful children, enjoyed a fulfilling career and was blessed with many outside interests. However, due to my hyper-religious and puritanical upbringing, I was raised to think that masturbation was somehow "evil" and would ruin any "normal" relationship I had with a man. 

Now don't get me wrong - - I was very sexually active, and had been for most of my life since my teens. I always had a willing and able-bodied partner on a regular basis, more-so than most (or so I am told). I considered sex a sacred experience, and I devoted a lot of time and attention to keep it interesting, fun and exciting. However, I had a personal hang-up about self-pleasuring. Whenever asked about it I would always say that I didn't "need" to because I always had a willing partner that satisfied me. So, I just never tried it. That's right, you heard right, I never even tried it. And I didn't need to because I had all the pleasure I thought I required. Orgasms? No problem. Multiple orgasms? Pretty much every time. So why play with myself? Totally unnecessary. OK -- just to set the record straight, I did touch myself. But I never finished the novel so I could give the book report. I only read the first chapter, then closed the book and went to sleep.

Then something changed. I can't exactly put my finger on it (and please forgive me for such an interesting choice of words) but I honestly think it was all about turning forty. In my life, I had already been through more than my fair share of sadness, grief and loss. I took life so seriously and worked so damn hard. I was intense -- far too intense for such a young woman. But as hard as I tried to change, to loosen up, I couldn't. It was part of me, part of my DNA. Then, during a stressful personal situation, someone who cared deeply for me pulled me aside and said, "Don't be a victim." I was stunned. Me, a victim? No way! I was strong, tough and could do anything I had set out to do. Why did this friend think I was a victim? He was way off course, and had my head spinning in uncertainty. I made the point of stepping out of my shoes and into his and looked down at myself. I couldn't believe what I saw. I was once a woman that stood tall and proud, dressed to kill, and commanded attention wherever I went. But somehow I had allowed myself to change. I was now the plain Jane type, always wearing non-form fitting clothes. I had stopped wearing make-up years ago and I had stopped trying to look attractive. I didn't do anything "girly" as far as appearance, and almost preferred being hidden from the gazing eyes of men. I had become a wall-flower, someone in the background. It was safer, easier and didn't require any work. I had not seen myself become that person while I was living in their skin, but once accused of being a victim, it forced me to see what the hell my friend was talking about. And you know, I think he was right. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had somehow morphed into someone that wouldn't allow herself to have fun or enjoy life. You could see it by the way I dressed and responded to others. And at the center of all of it was the willingness to serve and give and please but the inability to be served and to be a good receiver. I had difficulty enjoying anything that was completely intended for my sole pleasure. 

So that's how I ended up in the sex shop sizing up the various dildos, vibrators, anal toys, stimulators, creams, oils, clothes, magazines, costumes, and other customers, of course. I had been in sex shops plenty of times, but always to buy gag gifts for shower presents or for someone else, but never for my own use. Would people know that I was buying this for myself? What would they think of me? And more importantly, what exactly should I buy? Where would I keep and use this toy? 

I slowly started at one corner of the store and worked my way around every shelf, every display until I came to the personal vibrator section. They came in all shapes, sizes, colors and styles. Who knew? Since this would be my first purchase for myself, I thought I should take the time to read what each one did, and how they were different. After some quite interesting and very educational reading, I decided to buy a discreet pen-sized metal vibrator that looked like a Mont Blanc pen when closed. I could carry it with me and use it at any given moment. How clever! I could keep it in my night-stand and pull it out after the kids were asleep and all was quiet. I could use it in the car, while commuting to work or appointments. I could also keep it in my desk drawer at work, and use it during one of those stressful deadline related work moments, just for some instant sexual relief. OK. Sold! That was simple! 

But I also wanted something with some moving parts....so I bought a pink Dolphin with a long strap hanging off the tail. The Dolphin's beak wiggled when inserted and the lower body was slightly twisted, and it had fins that moved. This battery operated toy was intended for the ass (and mine was a virgin), and it could be worn without detection from others. I tried it in my pussy first and soon found out that if I squeezed my girly parts and clamped down on it while it was inserted, it would wiggle and give me the most incredible pleasure. I had to make sure it was slippery wet before inserting it in my ass. Then I would wear it to sit at my desk, and I would be the only one aware that it was inside me. 

Once I sat at my desk with my pink Dolphin in my pink asshole (I'm so color coordinated!) while I used the discreet vibrator on my clit at the same time. I was grateful to have a somewhat private office. Once I did this while I was on the phone, cooing and groaning and purring with a business colleague that was listening on the other end, while I was in all my pre-orgasm glory. Sweat was beading up on my forehead, my tits were tingling and pulsing, my lips were swollen and engulfed. I wanted to be fucked hard, and my ass was tender but exploding with pleasure. My friend had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, for some private pleasure, and to take his story to its happy ending. 

So I decided to walk around the office a little bit and see how it would turn me on. I zipped up my pants, clenched my ass-cheeks, and opened my office door, only to see everyone going about their daily routine. I slowly and carefully started walking to the fax machine, only to hear the vibrator in my ass come on with each step. It was incredible. I was wearing my poker face, walking across the room, while I could hear this faint noise humming deep inside me. The Dolphin's beak was wiggling just perfectly inside me, and the fins were digging in to my flesh. I could only stand it a couple minutes, because I wanted to scream out in pleasure, so I quickly returned to the safety of my private office and sat down on my chair....which only helped it move deeper inside my ass. (Good thing there was a long cord on the end!) I decided to wear the Dolphin for the rest of the day -- wondering when I would cum and what an anal orgasm would feel like. Could I work and cum simultaneously? Could I pull this off in secrecy? I answered email, talked on the phone, assigned projects, all the time this Dolphin giving me anal pleasure and making me hot and hungry for more. Sadly, however, the batteries wore out before I did. (Note to self: buy extra batteries.) 

Since the Dolphin was two parts, I started getting concerned that all my gyrating and clamping down might separate the parts and I would lose the top half of the mammal inside me, so I headed for my bathroom to remove my new best friend. This proved to be more difficult than I thought. My ass had swollen up from all the pleasure and stimulation, and pulling it out was painful and tricky. Those damn fins felt like they were cutting the skin inside my ass, but in a way, it felt kinda' good. I put my hand through the strap, bent over and slowly pulled it out. I kept thinking to myself that I wished my first anal experience was with human flesh, something soft, warm and conforming, not a hard plastic toy. After a couple seconds of careful slow pulling, out it came. I almost expected to see blood dripping from my ass, down the insides of my thigh onto the floor, but nothing. I washed it carefully, and myself, got dressed and returned to my desk, with a sneaky little crooked smile glued to my face. Had I pulled it off? Nobody noticed or heard it? I had successfully mixed pleasure with work, with a dash of pain. This was something I could get used to. 

So I have enjoyed my new toys, and look forward to adding more to my personal pleasure arsenal, but I do have to admit that I still wanted to return to the all natural way to achieve personal satisfaction. I have come to view Sex toys like microwave ovens. Instant gratification. Masturbating with your hands is more like a Convection oven. Set the temperature, preheat the oven and let it heat up. When it is finished cooking, it is moist and succulent with all the juices intact. Delicious! I think, given the opportunity, I would prefer being an Oven over a Microwave. 

One night while I had insomnia, I flipped through all the channels only to find a late night porno flic on cable. The exaggerated breasts of the woman and the supposedly hot looking man fucking her in rabbit style really excited me, even though it was cheap and completely unromantic. It was like a train wreck. I didn't want to enjoy looking, but I did. And furthermore, it got me totally hot. I found myself not being able to look away. My breathing increased and I wanted a hard cock in me right then and there. Since my poor, tired husband was fast asleep, I decided it was time to see if I could reach climax on my own, sans toys. So as I watched the rock-hard porn star fucking the perfect Barbie-doll woman, I started exploring the soft folds of my cunt. The labia lip edges were so soft and just the slightest touch of my finger felt nice and made me spread my legs wide open. The folds were like velvety rose petals. I loved touching them and feeling their softness. I have to tell you a little secret. My pussy lips are larger than most I have seen on other women. I have affectionately named them Butterfly wings because they wrap around a cock so nicely. I pulled them out and apart and I could feel my hole opening and closing, winking under the sheets. My legs pulled up near my shoulders in an automatic response. I put both my stretched lips between my index and middle finger and wiggled them, which created an incredible sensation. I would call this the blender move. Do other women do this? I'm not sure. Probably not because their lips aren't as outward as mine. But what a great feeling! 

I started exploring my insides with my finger -- first one, then two, then three. I was juicy wet and it felt incredible. My breathing had increased. My chest heaved in and out. My neck arched back. My eyes closed. My nipples were like hard little red hot candies. I took my middle finger and touched my clit, which was swollen and poking out, wanting to be rubbed, massaged and tickled. I started tapping it very lightly. I started pinching my tits and kneading my breasts. I was barely touching my clit, but the results were dramatic. How could such a light touch bring such incredible feelings of ecstasy? I added my index finger and started swirling around on my ruby fruit clit, small circles, consistent swirling. After about five more minutes of the same circular motion, I noticed that my thighs started to tense up, my toes started to get that all-too familiar curling sensation. I was going to cum. I was actually going to cum! And I did. I was cumming! I was breathing hard, fireworks were going off in my clit and I wanted to scream out in pleasure. But I was silent. The only thing you could hear was my heavy breathing. In and out, in and out. I had succeeded! I was so proud of myself, and completely amazed that with just a simple circular rubbing sensation, at the exact location, with the perfect intensity and pattern, I was able to achieve in a mere matter of minutes that wonderful orgasmic feeling. I couldn't wait to try it again. I wanted to shout from the rooftops -- I did it! I masturbated! I made myself cum! The sense of accomplishment was incredible. 

I had a very active (and fun) sexual life, but this personal moment of masturbating victory somehow opened up my mind to a very long list of sexual desires that I was ready to try one by one, with and without partners. I had achieved all of this by giving myself a pink permission slip. 



Pink Pussycat's Pool Party



Jack threw his tackle box in the back of Andy's truck, flicked away the remnants of his cigarette and got in the seat beside his buddy. If Deanna had been there, he'd have caught Holy Hell for throwing his butt away and littering, but Christ, could she lighten the fuck up once in a while?

"So, how are we working it this time?" Jack asked.

"Perry and Ross are meeting us up at the Cabin in a few hours, Ben and Jerry are gonna drive up later on tonight, there's some kind of disturbance downtown." Ben and Jerry were Police Officers who endured merciless teasing about their names. Both were long-time friends of firemen Perry & Ross. Jack was a Podiatrist, Andy owned a large Pharmacy.

"When are you going to kick that nasty habit?" Andy gritted his teeth, the waft of tobacco smoke still in the air.

"Fuck man, don't you start on me. You sound like fucking Deanna. I know it isn't good for me, but I am not ready to quit now and jeez, after one of my rows with her, I fucking need a smoke!"

"Still harping?"

"Yeah, still harping. What about Renee?"

"She's starting to get on my nerves. Shit, without these weekends Deanna suggested, I'd be inhaling the Scotch. Wonder what all of them do when we go on these retreats of ours?"

"No idea. Probably sip white wine and bitch about how bad we are in the sack, I guess."

Nope, dear reader ... not even close.

Deanna scampered up from the Deck Chair as she saw Renee approach. The cuddly redhead gave her friend a big hug, the sexy black woman was one of her oldest friends and closest confidantes. Both women wore their Pink Bikinis, the "Pink Pussycats" were a social group that the two women had organized a few years back, a group of like-minded women who got together periodically to have some fun and blow off steam about their respective husbands, boyfriends or current paramours.

The original intent of the group was quickly compromised, but we shall get to that later...

"Linn's providing the catering and set-up again!" Deanna winked at her friend as they sat by the pool. "She's always reliable, efficient and discreet, plus she provides us such an excellent rate." Renee laughed, both women knew why. She looked around and saw there were indeed already, bottles of wine chilling, fresh fruit with lots of strawberries and such, chocolate for fondue, the back area now nicely decorated and music playing. Linn had even provided enough sun block and other things to keep everyone protected and having fun, including several other naughty things that would ensure the continued "specialness" of their get-togethers. Linn had probably come early in the morning, set up and gone home for a few hours rest. She'd need it.

"Who else is coming this afternoon, besides Linn, you and I?" Renee asked. They almost always had 5 regulars and a few guests, some who were members, some guests. One of the first rules was guests were allowed, but Deanna and Renee, being founding members, had final say.

"Crystal ..." Deanna said. Crystal was Andy's ex-wife. "... and maybe Heather. She said she'd try to be here tomorrow if she can get her Mom to take the kids." Heather was married to Ross, Renee and Perry had been together 10 years, although Perry kept copping out, saying he didn't believe in marriage. Renee almost gave off smoke every time she told that story, it was a total excuse for being a coward, but he was a pretty nice guy in all other ways, so she was sticking around.

"Cara and Hiromi too, of course." Hiromi was their latest member, she was a Japanese beauty that Ben had saved from an attempted robbery and been smitten by, Cara was Jerry's wife of 15 years, marrying right out of High School. "Crystal tells me she has a little surprise, so we should all look forward to that." The pretty blonde divorcee loved to shock her fellow club members.

Just as the founding members finished conversing, they heard a loud chikchikchik on the poolside tiles and long, slender legs, stiletto-clad feet coming into view, signalling Linn's arrival. The exotic, pink bikini-clad beauty was another long-time member, which was why she gave them such a good rate. In fact, she charged them practically nothing, euphoric each time she got the call there was another meeting. Kisses were exchanged and just as Linn was about to sit, everyone seemed to show up, squealing, hugging and kissing and looking forward to the next days ahead. Leggy blonde Crystal, in a tight, cream-colored mini and sandals with long straps that went halfway up her tanned limbs, had a friend with her, a tiny brunette that simply oozed cutie-pie. "Who do we have here?" Deanna beamed at the newcomer.

Crystal spoke up. "This is Brittney."

"You don't mean ...?"

"That's right. Andy's current wife."

Flabbergasted was too mild a word to describe the others reaction. Crystal had been abruptly divorced, although the huge settlement had mitigated a lot of pain. But to bring your ex's current spouse? Crystal held up her hand. "It's okay everyone, she and I are friends. We met in the lingerie shop a month or two ago and I only found out who she was last week. Isn't that hysterical?" Then Crystal sighed. "Poor kid, it seems like Andy's up to his old tricks again."

Andy, who was nearing 50 and not the best physical specimen, refused to believe he had anything to do with his continued lack of prowess in the bedroom. He divorced his first wife, charmed and married the now-25-year old Crystal, when she couldn't get him fully revved in the sack; he had 2 affairs, which didn't work out, of course. He pleaded with Crystal to give him another chance, and when she did, he divorced her and married Brittney a year later.

"How old are you kiddo?" Deanna said, giving the new arrival a welcoming hug.

"Almost twenty" Brittney said in a soft voice that almost sounded like the chiming of bells. Cutie, indeed!

"Okay, then you're plenty old enough to play with the big kids!" Deanna laughed, ushering the girl over to where the others were pouring wine and laughing.

Brittney was a bit silent, perhaps she was intimidated? No matter, for when she did speak, she chose her words carefully and was totally charming. Crystal was just staring intently at her companion, she felt Deanna's arms around her waist.

"Smitten, are we?" 

Crystal nodded. "Well, just look at her. Can you blame me?"

Deanna shook her head; Brittney was indeed sweet, with an engaging personality. The food was eaten for a while, then taken inside and put away, so it could be eaten later and not spoil. Deanna looked at the remainder of the group, still dressed and in heels.

"Everyone here has too many clothes on!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Cris, can you take our newcomer upstairs and show her where we put our stuff, then get your butt back down here?"

As Crystal and Brittney departed, Deanna felt Linn nibbling on her ear. "Impatient little slut, are we?" Linn's knowing hands moved all over Deanna's supple flesh, fondling her perfect round tits, Deanna was already growing damp with arousal. As co-founder of the club, it was established that she or Renee – sometimes both of them – got first dibs on the new player. Deanna looked over at her lover and saw the predatory hunger in the black girl's eyes – she knew the show Renee and Brittney were about to put on would be a smouldering, passionate tableau they'd all long remember.

Some time ago, when the informal group had started, it was only to relax, catch some sun, swim, eat and drink and bitch about their relationships. One afternoon, Renee had brought Linn with her and while they griped about their men, Linn listened attentively, but didn't say much. Deanna was on her third glass of wine when she leaned over and asked Linn teasingly "Is your relationship with your man so good that you don't have anything to bitch about?"

Unfazed, Linn just said "I'm not in a relationship with a man at the moment."

Deanna began to apologize, then Linn added "I'm in a relationship with a woman."

Renee almost choked on her Chablis and Deanna just looked at the exotic beauty, stunned. "I didn't know you were a – a ... "

Linn interrupted. "A lesbian? I'm not. I like men and enjoy their company, I think I could have a relationship with a man if I wanted one, I just don't care to at present. My best friend Victoria and I are lovers, it suits us both nicely."

Renee looked at her friend and said "You never told me."

Unflinching, Linn replied "You never asked me, darling."

The three spent the remainder of the day talking, curious about every facet of Linn's life and impressed with her candour. Over the course of the next week, Deanna's mind kept going to Linn and how beautiful she was. With the images of sensual Linn and blonde Victoria running through her mind, Deanna's sleep was fitful. When Renee showed up with Linn the following week, she took her aside and said "I've barely slept a wink all week, all I could think about is her and other women."

Renee whispered back "Me too, and she's one of my best friends. God, we're awful. What must she think of us?"

Linn came up from behind Renee and said "I just think you're curious, many women are. Nothing wrong with that." Deanna went two shades beyond three shades of red.

"I'm sorry Linn, you must think we're being catty or something ..." Renee said, but Linn just silenced her friend and laughed.

"I'm not offended, silly goose; I think it's flattering that you two have been thinking about me this past week. Would you be offended if I told you I'd been thinking about both of you as well?"

Deanna gasped and Renee went wide-eyed. "Us?" Renee said. Linn nodded.

"You're both beautiful, desirable women and I appreciate the beauty of another woman, you've inspired lots of naughty fantasies. You, for years Renee, but I didn't say anything. Deanna, you're just so – yummy – that I couldn't help but fantasize about you as well. Oh, and the thoughts I've had about the three of us – mmmm!" Linn sighed.

"I need a drink!" Deanna exclaimed.

"I think I need several!" Renee retorted and poured a nice glass of Merlot from the bottle Linn had brought. All three of them sat at the patio table.

Linn sat down on one of the patio chairs and crossed her long legs. "Girls, don't freak out over this, all right? They're just fantasies and fantasies can't hurt anyone, they're fun. In my head, we've done all sorts of naughty things and everyone had a good time!"

"What kinds of things?"

"DEANNA!"

"Oh Renee, come on. We're all having a fun afternoon, Linn's right – what can it hurt? So Linn, spill!"

A sensual smile crossed Linn's exotic features and her dark eyes drew Deanna in. She leaned forward and kissed Deanna softly. "You know dear, I could show you!" 

Renee fell back, flabbergasted. "Okay, did I just walk on to the set of a porn video?"

Linn moved towards her friend, she kissed the redhead sensually, then, to Renee's shock, she pulled her friend close and planted one on her as well. What had started as a simple get-together turned into an afternoon of sheer lesbian hedonism, Linn teaching her girlfriends all about the sensual pleasures another woman had to impart.

Over time, the 3 women expanded the group, each bringing in other members. It became a game and Deanna lost count at around 15 members, although not everyone came every time. Linn, Renee and herself were the most frequent members, Deanna had never missed a one, hungering for the times where her body would be taken to new, dazzling heights.

Renee walked out to the pool, petite little Brittney in tow, Renee in the pink bikini that signified membership, Brittney in a light yellow one that barely qualified as strips of cloth. Deanna could see the nervousness in Brittney's dark, lovely eyes, but she knew the tiny girl was in good hands ... Renee, next to Linn, was the most sensual lover in the group, a slow, magnificent lover who was very in tune with whatever her playmate seemed to need. Deanna glanced around the pool and the other girls were already snuggling, Hiromi and Cara had showed up and were stretched out on a chaise, Deanna was sitting in front of Linn, Crystal was happy to just sit and watch the proceedings.

"You understand what's going to happen, right?" Renee said to Brittney. "You can back out any time; you don't have to go through with any of this."

Brittney reached up and kissed Renee hungrily. "Are you kidding? It's been so long since I had some great sex, I can't wait. God, you're all such beautiful, exciting, sexy creatures, a girl would have to be nuts not to want to get in on this!"

"Okay baby girl, you asked for this, remember that," Renee said and she stretched the petite brunette out by the pool. At first, all Renee did was kiss the younger woman and let her experience her first taste of a girl, but not once did Brittney balk or pull away, so Renee removed her pink bikini and let her dark breasts fall free so that Brittney could play with them. Brittney continued to delve further into the world of girl-girl love, letting her rough pink tongue lick the black girl's breasts while Renee gently explored her body, using feather-soft touches to arouse Brittney even further.

The rest of the women were beginning to do the dance they'd done so many times before. Linn and Deanna had already moved into a slow, languid sixty-nine and Hiromi was smack-dab in the middle of Cara and Crystal, who were teasing the Japanese beauty mercilessly with tongues and fingers. The moans were increasing and Deanna grinned, as no one would be able to hear them over the music they usually chose to play at these naughty gatherings.

Brittney was sighing happily as she gave herself over to the older, dark-skinned beauty. Their bodies rubbed together, she had often wished she had big tits like Renee, but she knew a lot of people liked her gorgeous, round ass and her perky boobs, so she didn't make too much of it. No sense worrying about what you didn't have and in these modern days, if it bothered you too much, you could always go out and get it. Now it was Brittney who was licking Renee, laving her neatly-trimmed box with an eager tongue, happy to be included in this group of loving, passionate, sexy women. She wasn't even truly angry with Andy, if he was dumb enough not to give her what she wanted, she'd find it here, with the other lovely women.

Deanna glanced over and blew Renee a kiss; it was obvious that Brittney was going to work out as a new playmate just fine. She seemed to be an eager, ardent little lover and Deanna wanted to find out just how much, so she tapped Linn on the shoulder. Her friend knew the score, she moved over to join Renee, the two dusky beauties moved into each other's arms as they had so many times in the past, leaving Deanna to enjoy Brittney's favors.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," The redhead smiled as Brittney snuggled close. "May I assume you'd like to be invited to another one of our little soirees?"

"You may," Brittney grinned and then her tongue tangled happily with Deanna's. The girls began to make out and Brittney glanced over to see Crystal's tongue lapping happily at Hiromi's near-bald pussy while, suspended above Hiromi's face, Cara's cunt was getting some much-needed attention.

Brittney said to Deanna "I'd like to try that" and as Deanna was a naughty little bitch, she was only too happy to accommodate the tiny brunette. Her being eaten didn't last long though, not in the same way Cara was being eaten, because the heady aroma of Brittney's young cunt so aroused Deanna that she had to have it and they were soon readily feasting on each other in a steamy '69' of their own.

By the late afternoon, the girls were all having food, Brittney loving every morsel that Linn had provided. "I'm going to get fat if I keep eating like this," Brittney laughed.

"We'll help you work it off," Crystal told her. 

They all presented her with her pink bikini and clapped and cheered. Brittney raised her hand and said "I have a question."

Everyone looked at her as she asked "Do any of you actually ever go swimming?" They all broke out into wild laughter as Deanna assured her that yes, they did swim, as sometimes they needed to cool off. Brittney found that out, as just after she'd put on the bikini that signified her membership in the club, she was pushed in the pool by Cara, who jumped in after her and began some naughty horseplay.

The men were all in a good mood, coming home with an Ice Chest full of trout and flirting with a good number of the waitresses at the "Hooters" they'd stopped at on the way home. They were having a few beers before getting back on the road.

Andy laughed. "I hope Brittney's ready for me, I'm in a good mood after flirting with all these hotties. She's a lot better for me than Crystal ever was, I can tell you that!"

Jerry laughed. "Man, I don't know how you can get all that young tail at your age, old man."

"Watch who you're calling old, kid," Andy said to Jerry. "One word ... money."

"Wonder how the girls enjoyed their weekend?" Jerry asked his friends.

"Probably sat around the pool sunning themselves, bitching about us and eating and drinking," Ben chuckled. "Seems kinda' a waste of time to me ... no way they had as much fun as we just did!"