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Kelly's Liberation Ch. 01

By: aussie_101



Note: this series is sequel to the 'Libby's Liberation' series. It would be best (but not essential) if you were to read 'Libby's Lib' first, then come on back and read this one. Cheers -- aussie_101.

***

How many stories must there be that start with "I'm not gay, but..."? I'm sure there's a ton of them out there, and at the risk of sounding unoriginal, here's how my story starts:

I am not gay, but there I was: trapped before my computer screen, cresting on a giddily-high wave of orgasmic ecstasy as I stared unblinking at a picture of my best friend Libby in the nude; and even as my fingers kept pounding in and out of my cunt, alternating to rub mercilessly at my gorging, sopping little clit, I found myself wondering: "well how the fuck did this come about?"

Well, there's only one man to blame for it all: my husband, Tom. Now I love my husband. Really, I do. But he can be a bit vexing at times...

He's an author, a rather successful one at that, and we live quite comfortably off the proceeds of his work. We have a large six-bedroom house in a semi-rural setting, half-way up a mountainside just outside a large town on the south-eastern coast of Australia; we have two beautiful young children together, and life is pretty sweet.

Our sex life is pretty sweet too. Tom's appetite has stayed healthy even after ten years of marriage, and he likes to have a crack at me at least twice a week -- sometimes more, especially when he's been writing. He must get a kick out of his work; I can usually tell when he's been writing a steamy love-scene too, because he has an extra spark in his eye when he prowls around the bed and pounces me. He's awfully good at writing those steamy scenes... and he's awfully good at playing them out in the bedroom too.

I have always been glad of our love and our life together, and always counted myself lucky to have such a faithful husband in Tom. I'll admit to not being the most slim, fit or toned of wives; I've got big boobs and a few curves but I do carry a some extra kilos, which I have blamed on working eight-to-five Monday-to-Friday and devoting my evenings to the kids. And Tom's success sometimes sees him rubbing shoulders with the odd celebrity-female, many of them younger and more nubile than myself. But I've never had cause to doubt his devotion. At least, not until recently.

Tom had to fly out on a week-long book tour, and so I took a week off work to stay home and mind the kids before and after school -- our usual routine when Tom's book tours fall between school holidays. I used to like going along on tour with Tom before the kids were born, but you get over them after a little while; his itineraries are so jam-packed he rarely stays in one city long enough to see anything or do anything, and he spends more nights trying to sleep on planes than he does in hotels. So I let him jet off on his little sojourns, and I take the chance to kick back around the house and relax.

On one lazy day in autumn -- too cool to recline by the pool, the sky threatening rain and dissuading any thoughts of riding the horses or going anywhere or doing anything else -- I found myself fooling around on Tom's computer. Having seen all I wanted to see on the Internet, and read all I felt like reading from Tom's up-and-coming and half-finished works, I scrolled idly through the list of applications on Tom's computer, looking for a game or something; a program called 'Firefox' caught my eye.

I'm not the most computer-literate person in the world; at the time I didn't know it was an alternative internet browser, so I clicked on it to see what it was and what it did. It loaded up the internet, and I sat there with a frown.

"Why does Tom have a different internet program on his computer?" I wondered aloud. A possibility occurred -- maybe he uses it when he wants to look at things he doesn't want me to know about. So I clicked on the History tab...

...and it was full of pages from literotica.com. "Oh Tom," I sighed.

When we first met and before Tom made the big time, he decided to tell me about his occasional habit of writing 'erotica'. He also told me about this site called Literotica, where he could post his stories and people could read them, rate them, wank over them, and so forth. He showed me one of his stories; it actually wasn't that smutty, it was quite evocative and arousing, but at the time I didn't know him that well and I felt uncomfortable giving it full praise. I also wasn't sure how I felt about this 'Literotica' place -- I didn't like that Tom was in contact with who-knew how many sexual deviants and fiends, and I told him so. 

I could tell he was disappointed by my prudish reaction. I had instantly felt bad about it -- I'm not a prude, I quite enjoy sex and, especially these days now that I know and love my Tom, I don't mind getting kinky on occasion -- but before I could say anything he had already assured me he'd stop going to Literotica. It was done, it had been said and I hadn't felt at the time like I could take it back, and so it stood.

But now... Now it was clear my Tom was being a bit sneaky. He had been using Firefox to keep on visiting Literotica, so that when I used the regular Internet Explorer there would be no evidence of Literotica in the address bar or History tabs. "You cheeky little shit," I admonished -- as though Tom could hear me from wherever his book tour had taken him (I think he was in London that day, the poor unfortunate thing).

I wasn't sure how to feel about the discovery. What was Tom doing on Literotica? Was he still posting stories there? Was he talking to any sex-crazed perverts -- was he having cyber-sex or anything with any of them? Were there any pornographic pictures here? Was he looking at other women? I certainly didn't like the thought of that, so I started clicking on the pages he had visited that were still listed under 'History'.

He had been doing quite a lot there, as it turned out. Some of it -- private messages and such -- I couldn't access without his user name and password, which I couldn't guess. I instantly didn't like the thought of him messaging other people privately, intimately; was he talking to other women? Other pages in his History were stories, the bulk of them attributed to an 'aussie_101', and they were obviously Tom's stories, I could pick his style anywhere. "Aussie_101 must be the name he writes under," I deduced.

For the rest, it turned out that my Tom had indeed been looking at pictures of other women. Lots and lots of pictures, of lots and lots of women. My heart sank as I looked at picture after picture, because many of the girls were sexier than me. I was saddened to have the proof of what I had long suspected: of course Tom would eventually become bored with me. Of course he would want to look at other girls.

I fought to reassure myself that it wasn't that bad. Look at it from Tom's perspective, I told myself. It's not necessarily that he actually wants to fuck these other girls -- he's just looking at them. It's just a bit of amateur porn; these girls have just posted up a few pics of their tits, twats and arse for all the world to see, it's not like they took the pictures especially for Tom.

As I was running through those thoughts, I was still clicking away at links to pictures that Tom had checked out. I was just about to leave it alone -- I was on the verge of leaving the site, shutting Firefox, and heading off to the kitchen to find solace in half a bucket of ice-cream -- when the last picture I saw gave me pause. 

It was a girl in the process of taking off a nurse's uniform. Not a real nurse's uniform, mind you. It was a costume-shop type, just a white button-down dress with comically-large red cross on the left breast, too tight and too short for day-to-day nursing work; it was just like one that my best friend Libby had worn to every costume party we've ever been to. "I wonder if Libby's been posting pics on Literotica?" I mused, idly, as a joke; despite my concern at Tom's secret web-browsing antics, I found myself lingering on the possibility. 

Imagine if I had stumbled upon a treasure-trove of naughty pics starring Libby? She was an attractive girl. Very attractive. She had plenty of time for the gym; too much time in fact, she worked out and exercised far more than she needed to, but the result was a finely-sculpted body blessed with large breasts, nice tight curves, trim hips and a tight little butt to boot. 

I was secretly very jealous of Libby's body. Though I had decently-large tits and hourglass-like curves of my own, I felt I was a bit too far on the flabby side of voluptuous to be considered attractive. Tom always tried to cheer me up and assure me of my sexiness, which I appreciated but never believed... I wished I looked more like Libby. "Libby would look good naked," I murmured, taking in the picture. "She'd look real good..."

Don't get me wrong, though: I'm no lesbian. I'm a big fan of the cock and forever shall be. But I can appreciate beauty all the same; when men get naked you can seldom call it beautiful, they have a certain 'functionality' about their looks that doesn't quite stir the soul. Women, on the other hand: the hotter chicks are definitely pleasing to the eye, their curves and breasts lending a softness and beauty that I wasn't above appreciating. Looking through all these pictures of girls hadn't been all that taxing, really.

So I concentrated on the picture, looking (without expecting) to find a clue or something that may indicate that it was indeed Libby in this picture. I took in her surroundings: she was in a room, furnished with a lamp on a set of drawers, a simple bed with a white bedspread, cool white walls... with a picture of a boat hanging off to the side...

"I've seen that boat before," I realised. "And I've seen that lamp. And that bed! That's our fucking spare bedroom! Holy crap -- this IS Libby!!" I couldn't believe it -- my best friend Libby? Libby, stuffy and conservative, brash and sometimes obnoxiously judgemental -- Libby, posting nudie pictures of herself on the internet for everyone and all to see? Everyone... including my husband...

With a growing, sickening feeling of unease, it was all falling into place for me. Libby had stayed at our house recently, back in the summer during a temporary break-up with her boyfriend Glen. She had stayed for about a week, moping around, refusing to go to work, eating our food, drinking our booze, swimming in our pool and -- from the impression I was given -- generally getting in Tom's hair and giving him the shits.

But now... Now I was worried that perhaps something more had taken place. My Tom was a regular visitor to this Literotica site, and after coming to stay at our place Libby all of a sudden was an amateur-porn star on the same website... posting pictures taken in our house, taken while she was staying with us... Coincidence? "Not on your fucking life," I declared, to no one in particular.

I couldn't believe it though. Libby posing naked in front of my husband Tom? Tom taking porno pictures of my best friend Libby? It just didn't ring true. They were never that close, Tom had always found her crass and irritating and Libby had never shown any sort of interest in Tom, at least not that way... but then here was this picture of Libby, in our spare bedroom in our very home, half-way through removing a very sexy nurse's costume...

I needed proof. I needed more than this one picture of Libby (though it didn't show her face -- probably wisely, given the creeps that lurk on sites like these), partially undressed in our spare bedroom. I needed to find more -- more pictures, more clues as to whether it was as bad as it seemed.

A little more snooping through Tom's web history on Literotica uncovered the source of the pics. Libby had a whole thread to herself in the Amateur Photography section, seemingly going by the name of 'Libya's Finest' ("Libya... Libby... as if it could be anyone BUT her," I'd said to myself). And at the top of her thread she had created an index, providing shortcuts to all of her pictures, and there were nearly a hundred links. She'd been a busy girl, and already my heart was falling; this kind of technical savvy, all these tricky links and shortcuts and stuff, did not seem like Libby's doing. It was more like something my Tom would set up. "Please, Tom," I murmured to myself, as I felt tears brimming in my eyes. "Please tell me you didn't cheat on me, Tom... please tell me you didn't..."

I sucked it up, and decided to keep going through the 'nursie' series of pictures. The first ones were fairly tame, merely showing Libby's body off in her costume from various poses; the photographic quality was fairly high, the shots well-lit and well-framed, and they were always taken from the same position in the room -- the camera's position and angle never moved, hardly even an inch. I was heartened by that: Libby had most likely used a camera with an auto-timer, placing it on a tripod or on a bedside table, rather than getting my Tom to take the shots for her. For that I was thankful; if Tom had taken the pictures, standing in the same room as my best friend as she stripped off for the camera, I wasn't sure what I would do. So I was very glad it hadn't come to that.

Having found some relief, I sat back and took in some more of the pictures, realising as I did so that Libby really was a very attractive girl. I suppose that much has been obvious for as long as I've known her, but until now I've never actually sat back and really taken her in. The shots all cropped her face out for safety's sake, but this only served to make you focus on her body even more. She really did fill out that skimpy little costume: partially unbuttoned at the top, it showed an awful lot of cleavage, her breasts rising nicely out of the dress and betraying a few hints of a frilly white bra. The dress was also rather short, cut off very high above the knee; sheer white stockings rose out of her stratospherically-high white heels and reached almost as far as the hem of her dress, allowing the straps of a garter belt to be seen.

Without really thinking about it, I loaded up the next picture in the series. This one was a bit more confronting; shot from behind, she had raised her leg to place a foot on the end of the bed; she was bent forwards ever so slightly, for no other purpose than to let her dress hitch higher up her legs, so high in fact that they showed the camera just a hint of arse. I guffawed at first -- such a Libby pose, so shameless and lurid, yet somehow innocently so -- but as I lingered on the picture I appreciated a sort of subtle artistry to it. It was revealing, but not overly so; and in showing only just the tiniest hint of bared buttock from beneath the bottom of her dress, Libby was foreshadowing the course of her strip-tease, letting everyone know that she was in fact wearing little or nothing beneath that dress.

I had to see more. I was driven on not by arousal or any real sexual attraction to Libby, but more by an intense curiosity. What more was there to see? How much was she going to show? How was she going to go about it? My interest was very much piqued, and I had to see more. I was going to see them all.

In the next picture Libby was unbuttoning her dress, starting at the top, with two buttons undone and showing off yet more bosom and bra. The lighting in our spare bedroom leant a very nice honey-colour to her skin, contrasting warmly against the crisp white material of her dress. The next picture was another small step along, with all but the last button undone; Libby's soft little tummy curved very gently, very nicely, sitting as it did above the elastic of her underwear from which the top clips of her garter belt hung. 

The next pic had her turned and standing tall with her back to camera as the dress fell to the floor, revealing a frilly white g-string framing a very pert pair of buttocks, no doubt trimmed and toned by a million cross-trainer steps at the gym. These pictures were very much making me feel unhappy with the slightly pudgy state of my own body; I even started to think about purchasing a cross-trainer of my own.

Distracted as I was by these thoughts, the next picture threw me so badly I nearly fell off my chair. This picture had our Libby bending right over, back still to camera, as she reached for the dress on the floor. Modesty kept her feet firmly together, but still: those buttocks were clenched together ever so tightly, that g-string disappeared between them, and a perfect lacy white diamond of material was framed between her cheeks and her thighs right there, right over the money-maker... "Bloody hell," I breathed, finding my eyes drawn right to that white diamond and unable to look away.

To my surprise, I was now finding myself somewhat aroused; my breathing was quickened, my heart was thump-a-thump-thumping, and my hand had unknowingly slipped to rest warmly against my inner thigh. It was not, I knew, because I had the hots for Libby -- shit, I've caught glimpses of a naked Libby before with my own eyes, we've shared hotel rooms on overnight trips to the city and she's not exactly shy with herself, as these pictures so clearly reinforced.

Instead, my arousal came from putting myself in Libby's place. 'Imagine...' I thought. 'Imagine if this was me -- if I had done this, taken these pictures and put them up for all to see. I wonder... I wonder if I...' but I left off on that line of thought. There was time to consider that later... for now I wanted to see how Libby's series would make its conclusion.

In the next photo, with the dress on the floor and still with her back to camera, Libby reposed relaxed. She stood very simply in her underwear, stockings and heels; her long blonde hair cascaded loosely down her back, shimmering fair, golden and beautiful in the light of my guest bedroom. Next: still with her back to camera, she was now reaching behind her and working at the hooks of her bra. I was becoming impatient, and I moved quicker through the series, tapping my finger impatiently on the mouse while each picture loaded. 

The next pic: Libby's back was still to camera, the bra was off and dangled loosely in one hand; Libby was turned only slightly, allowing a three-quarters rearward view of the side of her breast, loose and unsupported but yet still pert, round and shapely. She was very lucky, our Libby. Would I look as good... would my tits look that nice, if I were to take pictures like these? I could feel the moisture gathering between my legs even as I dared to think on it... 

Next pic: Libby had finally turned to face the camera, but she had dropped the bra and was holding her breasts in her hands, cheekily and tantalisingly obscuring the view of her bosom for now. Though it strained my patience, all the same I was loving the slow, steady unveiling of Libby's body; the very slowness spurred me on, as I'm sure it spurred many other pervs and lurkers on to see more, want more, want it quicker, want it now. Now!

The next picture loaded, and it finally gave some relief to the mounting frustration... this picture had Libby dropping one hand to her pelvis, fingers splayed alluringly about the side of her hips, but the dropped hand had finally, finally revealed a breast. And it was an awfully nice breast, too: beautifully shaped, perkily placed, with a tanned chocolate-brown nipple that sort of just sat there, just so...

I could no longer deny my horniness, and I unzipped my jeans. I was hooked on the reveal, the allure, the tantalising tease; even though I'd seen Libby's boobs and body before, seeing them now in this light and in this context riled me deliciously as I loaded up pictures of my best friend stripping slowly, piece by piece, picture by picture, before the whole world -- and so I slipped off my jeans and panties, and laid a gentle finger on my spot, eliciting a marvellous little shiver that ran the full length of my body.


Kelly's Liberation Ch. 01



The next pic loaded as I slowly started working at myself, rubbing my clit softly and tenderly: Libby had dropped both hands to her hips, with two fingers of one hand resting close above her own spot in a marvellously, arousingly restrained fashion, but the focus of the picture was her breasts: both sitting free and easy, unclad and unfettered, matching and perfect, better than I could remember -- I guess when I last saw them I wasn't really paying such close attention. I lingered for a while on this shot, touching myself very gently, building myself up slowly, very slowly, drinking in the sight of my best friend's near-naked body and revelling in the concept of her putting on a delicious little show for the entire world... 

Having built my pleasure up quite nicely while memorising this pic, I moved on. In the next picture she had turned back-to-camera again, and the g-string was coming down, she was bending down while turned to the side at that three-quarters angle so you could still see a breast, swinging low and gentle and fulsome as she pulled her underwear down, her arse taut and toned, the cheeks flexed as she bent...

...and as I drank this shot in, soaking up the sight of her partly-obscured breast and her bared arse, I rubbed at myself a little harder, the pleasure building a little quicker, and I alternated every now and again between rubbing my clit and slipping a finger a little way into my hot, wet little pussy, just a little way, very gently...

...and with my free hand I loaded the next pic, which was the last one in the list for this series. In this shot, front to camera again, she was pretty well naked now: the stockings and heels and garter belt remained but the underwear were gone, replaced by a strategically-placed nurse's cap held daintily in front of her money-maker, and pinned to the cap was a scrawled note reading 'show's over, boys'. Libby's face was cropped out again, but still I could imagine a cheeky, teasing little grin on her face as she stood there, tits akimbo, with nought but that itty bitty little cap saving her modesty before the whole world... before my husband Tom... and before me...

And I came. I didn't come too hard; it was just a little orgasm, a small but rewarding release as the series came to an end and so did I. I rubbed myself slowly as my pleasure abated, and I sat back and revelled in the afterglow, staring disbelievingly at the picture of Libby so exposed before the whole world. I went over the series in my mind, thinking back to each picture; as I did so, I could hardly believe that Libby, the Libby I had known for years, had gone and done this.

When I settled down I searched all through her thread, and over the course of a few hours I put the story together. Turns out that 'aussie_101' -- my husband's alter-ego on Literotica -- was to thank for Libby's newfound fame; somehow or other he had uncorked this exhibitionist streak in Libby, and put her onto Literotica to give her a means to satisfy her apparent need to show herself to the world. 

But it seems that Tom's influence came from a distance; the bulk of Libby's posts were dated after she left our house and got back with Glen, and I could see the rest of her photos were taken at her place with the features of her bedroom recognisable in the background. So it was not as bad as I had feared; Tom had not shared a room with Libby while she stripped, and there was no cause to suspect that he had ever seen her naked with his own two eyes: they had never crossed that boundary. Which was, of course, an immense relief.

Delving further into the matter, it became clear that a really nice, warm friendship had developed between my best friend and my husband. Throughout Libby's thread, aussie_101 had posted nothing but friendly encouragement and warm, un-sleazy praise. I even found a link to another thread Tom had done himself, posting pictures of his own strip-tease that he had put up at Libby's request (or rather, Libby's demand -- he wasn't going to do it until she told the world she'd stop posting pictures til he did, and so he caved). Going through all of Tom's pictures made me horny again, and I touched myself up again and brought on another yummy little orgasm -- and as I came again, I realised that all of this business made me miss him even more than usual. In a way, I was glad of these photos as a very pleasant reminder; gosh he's got a big cock...

Towards the end of the night I had seen quite a number of amateur strip-teasing photographic series: lots of Libby's, Tom's solitary series, and I even browsed through a few other people's threads to see how my friends stacked up against the competition. Seeing that not everybody on the boards was a supermodel or ultra-hunk, it helped me decide it was time for a little fun of my own. The kids were off at a slumber party and they wouldn't be back until the morning; and over in a cabinet sat Tom's camera (very likely the same one Libby had used to shoot her 'nursie' series) and his tripod.

"Well then," I said to myself. "Let's see if three can't play this game..."



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 02



After a couple of hours' work with a camera and tripod -- 'work' is not a fair description though, as the process had proven surprisingly enjoyable -- there I was, with my very own strip-teasing series of photos. All of the pics were trimmed and cropped to remove my face and leave nought bar my body, and I had nothing to do with them and no-one to show them to. Or did I?

"Should I post them?" I asked myself. "Should I put them up on Literotica, like Libby and Tom have done?" I was sorely tempted to do so. Very sorely tempted. The very thought of putting my own pics up on Literotica's Amateur Photography forum was extremely thrilling; it had my heart racing, my breathing quick and shallow, and it prompted a deliciously warm, squirmy sort of feeling from between my legs.

But at the same time, I was extremely hesitant. I'm not an exhibitionist -- quite the contrary. For all my life I've been as shy as they come; I hide my body beneath a towel in the change rooms at the public pool, I don't like to wear skimpy swimsuits or bikinis in public, and my general manner of dress is fairly conservative, not flashy and never tight or revealing. Libby had an awesome body: taught, toned, curvy and burly all at once. If I had a body like Libby's then posting my pics would have been a no-brainer, but my body was decidedly softer and flabbier, at least in my opinion. Who was I to try to stand against Libby's pictures, with my own frumpy shots?

Hardly had I started thinking that some encouragement was needed, when I saw that none other than 'Libya's Finest' herself had come online. "Oho," I said, with a grin. "Come to check out your pics and bask in your glory, Libs? Well then: maybe you could check my pics for me too..."

I quickly created a profile for myself: 'misstralia' I had decided upon, a conjunction of 'Miss Australia'. 'Mrs aussie_101' seemed a bit too obvious. Besides, I had decided upon a bit of a devious plan. I was going to contact Libby anonymously at first -- I might send her some of my pics sans face, and see what she thinks of little old me in the nud. It was a thrilling concept: flashing my best friend anonymously, without her suspecting a thing...

So I started writing a personal message to Libby. "Hello Libya's Finest," I began. "Just wanted to let you know I loved your pics. You've got such a hot bod! I had never before thought about taking shots of my own, but after seeing how well your strip teases went down I found myself inspired... would you mind checking my shots out for me?" And before I could think twice about it, I sent it off.

A reply came back quite quickly. "Hey there, misstralia!" she wrote. "Thanks so much for your kind words. I love to hear that I've inspired others to try out the wonderful world of picture-posting -- it's so much fun! You get such a thrill, showing off your bits to the world, and everyone here is so nice and supportive. So go right ahead! Start up your own thread, give us all a look! ;)"

I had to grin at Libby's forthrightness. "Thanks, Libya," I wrote in reply. "But I'm just a bit shy... not quite ready to bare my bits to the whole world... I was hoping instead, you might look at my pics in private first? I'm not as hot as you are, you see... do you mind?"

Libby's response came galloping back almost as quick as I sent it -- that girl must type really fast. "Absolutely! Send me some pics! I'm sure you're just as hot as me, if not hotter... come on, show us what you got!"

'Wow,' I thought. 'She's pretty keen to see me naked...' But I remembered that she didn't know it was me; so far as she knew, 'misstralia' was just any random girl. Libby would surely never suspect that old fuddy-duddy, straight-laced Kelly would find her way to this site... she'd never have thought I would stumble across her pics... and then take some pics of my own...

"Okay," I replied, via PM. "I've taken a strip-teasing series; but here's one from the business-end of the series, when it's all nearly said and done." And -- with my heart beating a-mile-a-minute, scarcely able to breathe through my nerves and excitement -- I attached a picture and sent it off to Libby.

As I awaited her reply, I stared at the picture I had sent her. My face was cropped out -- of course; didn't want to spoil the ruse -- but the rest of me was there to see. I had one arm over my breasts, and my hand over my money-maker, absolutely starkers as I lay on my bed (our bed, mine and Tom's). I was curled into a sort of innocent, alluring pose; and with my D-cup, sometimes DD-cup breasts being so large my arm didn't do too well at hiding much other than my nipples, and the curve of my (slightly over-large) arse was clear and plain to see. It was a good pic, I reckoned. Well, I wasn't the slimmest or hottest body out there, but the pose and the framing were spot-on and quite alluring. Or at least, so I thought.

And so Libby thought: "That's so hot!" her reply eventually came, after a longer wait than I was expecting. "Misstralia: that is really, really hot. You have such a nice body!"

I was immediately gladdened. "Do you really think so?" I typed shortly.

"Really I do," Libby assured me. "You've got such wonderful, lovely curves, and such huge boobs. I'm so jealous! I wish my boobs were that big."

"Aww, gee, Libya," I typed. I had at first typed 'Libby', but quickly I realised that would give me away, so I deleted and corrected. "Thank you! I can't believe you're jealous of me, I'm so jealous of you. You're so slim and athletic..."

"Well, the slim-athletic look can be pretty hot," Libby conceded. "But you've got a really sexy 'voluptuous' thing going there. You look so nice... hey, check this out ;-)" and she posted a link to a page on literotica.com. I went to the link, and my heart nearly stopped...

...because Libby had started a new thread entitled 'come check out misstralia!' And sure enough, Libby's first post read "Hey there, my many Literotica fans: have a look at my good friend, misstralia. She's a bit shy and she's not sure if she's hot. So come on and tell her what I told her, she's just as hot as me. If not hotter..." and at the end of that, there was a link to my picture; there I was, head and face thankfully cut out of the picture, but there were my boobs, and there was my butt, there was all of me without a stitch on, all of me for all the world to see...

I sat there dumbstruck with disbelief, my heart quaking and palpitating as I struggled to comprehend what she had done. I went back to the private messages page: "omg... omg... Libya! OMG!" I wrote. "What have you done?????"

"I've given you a gentle little push in the right direction," Libby wrote back, with a cheeky ;) to boot.

"But I wasn't ready!!" I wrote, still boggling at Libby's sheer, cheeky audacity. "I hadn't decided whether or not I was going to post them... omg!" I wrote again, unable to think of anything more original to say.

"Relax, misstralia! You'll be fine, they're gunna love you! Go on, put it out of your mind for now. Why don't you share a few more pics with me..." she added, cheekily and with surprising allure.

"Oh really? You think I'm gunna share more pics? You'll only go and post them up in that bloody thread!" I typed. But then I thought for a moment. I wasn't really that angry about it; it was done, it was put up in a thread, I was out there. I was probably going to go ahead and do it myself, anyway. So to soften the tone of my message, I added a ;) to let Libby know that I didn't really mind too much.

"Okay," Libby typed. "I promise I won't post any more pics up of you. I'll leave you to post them yourself. Now will you PLEASE send me a few more...?"

I grinned with delight -- our Libby was just as keen, begging and pleading to see me naked as Tom can be. "Alright, just a few more. Just while I'm deciding whether to put them up in the thread myself..." And I did send her a couple more, still with my face cropped out -- and she loved them, full of effusive and genuine praise.

Having sent more pics privately to Libby, I returned to my thread and refreshed it... to find quite a few posts put up already, from various "literoticans" from all around the world, all voicing very positive praise of their own. "Beautiful! Just beautiful!" cried socalgrl_69, whom I recognised as one of Libby's own most vocal fans. "They sure do make em hot down under," big.n.british reckoned. "Lovely, just lovely. Go on misstralia, show us some more!" added texas_joe88; and quite a few others took up the cry for more.

I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. 'They love me,' cried my inner Sally Fields. 'They really, really love me!' Setting aside the fact that the majority were drooling freaks and gibbering porn-addicts, it felt really good to receive such praise for the quality of my body; I could feel my self-confidence lifting, my estimation of my own sexiness finally on the rise. While I was posing before the camera and taking the pictures, I had looked on them and thought 'wow -- that's really a lot hotter than I thought I was...', but still at the forefront of my mind was that little bit of lingering self-doubt. Sure, maybe I thought I was kinda hot, but would other people agree...?

As it turns out: they agreed, most vociferously. And the rising tide of praise (more posts of encouragement kept coming in, almost as quickly as I could read them and refresh the page) had me feeling so wonderful and so grateful, I was leaning ever more towards the possibility of posting up more of my pics, for all of them to see...

A new PM came in from Libby. "I'll bet you've seen your thread. You're stealing my fans away!" she chided, but with a ;) to indicate a joking tone. "So what do you reckon? Will you post your pics up, and satisfy the world's craving hunger for misstralia?" 

I grinned -- I had decided I had kept Libby in the dark for long enough. "Tell you what," I typed. "I'll wait and see if they can fill a whole page and start a new page with their demands; if they can do that in the next few minutes, I'll go ahead and post up the series. In the meantime, here's just one last pic I want you to check for me..." and I attached a picture to the message... a special picture. 

It was at the very end of my series, with me totally nude and totally exposed, hands free from the goods, my tits swinging generous and free and my neatly-trimmed bush aimed directly at the camera; but in this pic, I had neglected to crop out my face, which was bearing rather a cheeky grin.

On sending the message, I started counting: "one, two, three, four, fi--" and not surprisingly, my phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered it, with a grin similar to the one in my photo. I knew who it was.

"OH MY GOD!" Libby cried down the line. "KELLY!!! IT'S YOU!!!"

"Yes it is me," I almost laughed. "Who else did you expect when you dialled my number?"

"No!" Libby returned. "I mean: it's you! In the pictures! Those are your pictures! You've been sending me your pictures on Literotica!!!"

Now I laughed. "You are so busted," I told her.

"Oh my God," Libby breathed, settling down from her astonishment into a quieter state of shock. "This means... you know... you've seen all of MY pictures, haven't you? You've seen me naked... totally naked... oh my God..."

"I certainly have!" I crowed, with triumph. "And I meant what I said -- you're steaming hot in front of that camera, Libs. I never would have thought you had it in you!"

"Oh my God..." Libby said, yet again; if she wasn't careful, the Almighty was increasingly likely to butt into our conversation and ask us to stop bothering him. "How did you find them? How did you find my pictures?"

I explained to her how I had found Firefox on Tom's computer, and how I had traced through his browsing history to uncover the full extent of their risqué dealings. "Oh Kelly," Libby began; unexpectedly, her voice was full of shame and guilt. "Kelly, I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry?" I frowned. "For what?"

"Kelly... Tom is your husband," Libby began. "I should never--"

"Libs," I chastised, playfully. "Relax! It's okay! At first I was a bit suss when I learned you've been looking at each others' pictures -- nice work on blackmailing him to put up his pics, by the way," I added, with a cheeky grin. "But then when I was reading through your thread, I saw that you guys weren't taking it too far at all. You were both being really nice about it -- both of you were so sweet and encouraging, all the way through. It was really nice to see; funny, but it made me happy to see that you guys have gotten that much closer."

"Gee Kelly, are you sure?" Libby checked. "Because... well, sometimes I felt we... I mean, sometimes I thought I was kind of crossing the line... but Tom's such a great guy," she added. "I don't think we ever went too far, at any stage. You're very lucky to have your Tom," she informed me.

"I know," I said. "He's still overseas on his book tour. I'm missing him so much..."

"Well, you never know..." Libby began, and her overly suggestive tones foretold where she was going. "If you go and post up your series, he might just look you up and get all homesick..."

I grinned. "Do you think he'll recognise me?" I asked her over the phone. "Say I post them up, and I don't let him know -- if neither of us tells him, sends him any PMs or leaves any clues in the thread... do you think he'll be able to tell it's me, even with my face cropped out?"

"It'll be interesting to find out..." Libby replied, her voice still dripping with suggestive innuendo.

I was forced to agree. And on returning to the thread I found that it was already well into its second page; "well, looks like I have no choice," I observed. "Time to get posting..."

"Oh Kelly," Libby nearly giggled with wicked glee, as I started typing up my first post in my very own thread. "I can't believe we're doing this together! You and me, posting naked pictures up on the net! I'm so happy I've found a friend to share this with; I've had so much fun doing this for so long, but I was afraid to tell anybody about it in case they thought I was a slut or something..."

"If you'd told me before today, I probably wouldn't have believed you," I said. "It's just so unbelievable, so unlike you!"

"But it's so much fun, Kells," Libby promised me. "It feels so... so wicked, and naughty, and... well, honestly," she added, her voice going marvellously low with breathy excitement, "when I sit there and post my pics up, one by one with everyone yelling and begging for more: it makes me so horny."

"Okay, Libs," I warned her. "Maybe just a little too much information."

"Sorry," Libs apologised, though that wicked tone remained and sort of took some genuineness out of her apology. "But I think you'll see what I mean, soon enough..."

I didn't yet feel comfortable to admit it to Libby, but I already knew exactly what she meant. I had typed my opening gambit and attached the first picture, and my heart was beating like a tribe of native drumsmen as my finger hovered over the mouse button, hesitating before I posted it -- before I took the plunge, and forever committed myself to this new and astonishing path of exhibitionism and public nudity.

I decided to review my post: "Hello all," I had begun. "Well I'd like to thank my very good friend Libya for going ahead and creating this thread -- without even asking me or checking if I was ready to be shown to the world (you cheeky thing, Libya!). But: I'm out there now, and you've all been so wonderful and supportive, so who am I to turn you all down? Ladies and Gentlemen all: get ready for a good long strip tease, in the style of Libya's Finest -- but maybe not quite so athletic, perhaps a bit more 'voluptuous'. All the best..."

Without having properly decided, my finger -- almost cheekily, of its own accord, just to spite me -- clicked the button and posted my reply, picture and all. I almost yelped with surprise; I honestly hadn't quite meant to post the thing just yet, it really was as though my finger did it for me!

"Everything okay?" Libby asked -- I had forgotten I was still on the line with her, phone cradled between my ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, I just posted the first pic of the series," I told her. "Oh God. I've gone and done it..."

"Oh Kelly, congratulations! Let me refresh... there you are. Let's have a look," said Libby, and I heard her clicking to open my picture. "Oh that's nice!" she praised, as we both looked at the picture together: me fully clothed, in my most flattering jeans and a tighter white stretch-cotton top than I usually wear out and about; a top that tight usually went under a jumper or a cardigan on a cold day. "Do you mind if I stay on the phone with you, while you do this?" Libby asked.

"Oh, I suppose," I allowed, with a slight frown. "Any reason why?"

"Kelly: I've wanted to share this with somebody for so long..." Libby told me, the long-felt yearning clear in her voice. "Well, I suppose I've kind of shared it with Tom," she allowed, "but it's different, sharing it with a girlfriend... And I'd always wished it could have been you, Kelly. Of all the girls I know, you've been my oldest and best and closest friend -- I've always thought, if only Tom hadn't been involved, I could have shared this with you..."

"Yeah?" I asked, as I prepared another post, having flicked through a few quick replies from my building fan base. "Really? With me?"

"Yeah," Libby told me. "And now here we are. And I never had to ask you because you found my pictures yourself, and then you had me going for a while, sending me your pics without telling me it was you... oh Kelly," I heard her say, and her voice was heavy, almost purring with a heavily pleased tone. Or, rather, a heavy tone of pleasure...

"Libby?" I asked slowly, as I posted up the next pic. "Are you...?"

"Mmm hmm..." was all she said; and I could hear that she was biting her lip with exquisite pleasure... "ooh, that's a nice pic," she added -- the new one was from the back, with my jeans showing off the curves of my arse quite nicely, the shirt also providing a good view of the hourglass upturn of my profile.

I could hardly believe this new turn of events. Libby -- my oldest, most hetero friend in the whole world -- was touching herself up as we spoke on the phone, and she wasn't at all abashed about it. As the realisation of what Libby was doing sank in, I could feel the moisture in my crotch -- already mounting at the thrill of slowly unveiling myself to the world -- I could feel it gushing heavier still; I didn't think about it, I didn't stop to ponder the meaning or the consequences of it and I didn't say anything about it, I simply thrust my hand into my jeans and rubbed at myself hard, my hand between my jeans and my panties, thrusting my panties into my slot and dragging them roughly up and down against my bulging clit.

As I put my phone on loudspeaker and used my spare hand to post up another pic -- this one of me front-to-camera, beginning to lift my shirt -- I heard Libby again say something or other about how awesome this was, how happy she was to have someone to share it with, how happy it was me that was sharing it with her... doing it with her... And I thought 'well, I really AM doing it with her, aren't I?' 

I began to think on it now. What exactly were we doing, Libby and I? We were on the phone together, looking at my soft porn self-portraits and touching ourselves up as we did it; was this... was this phone-sex? Was I phone-fucking with Libby? Or was it something less complicated, simply a mutual appreciation of my body, simply a couple of friends who happened to be masturbating at the same time...

"Oh Kells..." Libby almost moaned, and my mind's eye (without my own bidding) began to draw the scene on the other end of the phone -- Libby in front of her computer, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at my pictures, her hand thrust deep down her pants (just like my own hand in my own pants, now reefing the crotch of my panties aside to slip my fingers along my cunt, slicking them instantly with my thick, heavy juices)... 




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 02



"More, Kelly. More!" Libby demanded, jerking me out of my envisionings.

"Okay, okay," I grinned. "Hold your horses, Libs."

"Sorry," she apologised, with an audible grin at herself. "I am just... so into this..."

"Yeah..." I allowed, with my own tone going a bit higher, a bit lighter, just a bit flightier... "me too..." And I posted another pic -- now my shirt was off, dangling from my hand to the side, unveiling my most revealing sheer-white bra; my breasts were almost spilling out of the thing, I had so much cleavage on offer... 

...and it was hot. I was hot. Everybody else thought I was hot, and Libby thought I was hot... and so I rubbed myself harder, harder, allowing an almost-inaudible moan to escape my lips.

But Libby didn't miss it. "Kelly," she began. "Are you... are you 'doing it' too?"

I grinned. She couldn't bring herself to actually ask the question, to actually say 'Kelly I have half my hand thrust hard up my pussy, I am totally fucking myself and it's awesome -- are you fucking yourself too?' She was still too genteel to say a thing like that to an old friend, and so was I; but somehow, not actually saying it made it all the more steamy. All the same, I wasn't going to make it too obvious: "I'm not sure I know what you mean..." I grinned, teasingly.

"I think you do know..." Libby returned, with a grin of her own. "And I think you are doing it... oh man..." she added in a small sigh. She must have opened the next picture I had posted, which showed me with my jeans unzipped and just starting their descent, halfway down my thighs. My underwear were visible, small white and tight and low-riding down on my hips, showing off quite a lot of good-looking upper pelvis; and I noted with pride, my breasts sat very nicely in my bra, sitting just so as I threw a subtle pose of sexiness.

"Well I will say," I began, as I loaded up the next picture, "I'm beginning to see what you mean: you do tend to get a bit riled-up as you keep posting your pics up..."

"Oh yeah," Libby agreed, wholeheartedly, with still a whisper of delighted arousal about her tone. "You're doing so well, Kelly; you're looking so hot; and you're getting so many people worked up as well. Look at all the posts going up inbetween yours..."

I had noticed myself that I was drawing lots of praise. Even in the few moments between each of my posts, people were typing up replies of heavy appreciation, and more than a few claims of 'enormous hard-ons' and implorations to 'keep it up, I'm gunna cum for you...' 

But I didn't really care so much about these -- my focus was on Libby, and her building pleasure. I was getting such a kick and such a rise out of the unspoken knowledge that I was driving her to wild, abandoned distraction; the forbidden thrill of it, the sheer taboo of the situation was driving me on too, and I worked at myself ever harder, building ever higher with an incredible and unexpected pleasure as I rubbed at my sopping clit and delved as far as I could into my burning, quivering hot cunt... and I knew Libby did the same.

"Just excuse me a second," I said quickly -- I wasn't getting at myself as well as I wanted and needed, my pants did not afford enough access. So I stood and whipped them off and I threw them to the floor, even as the whole world downloaded my next pic: the very same jeans, falling to the floor as I aimed my arse at the camera, revealing a fairly conventional white cotton bikini-bottom that still rode quite low, somehow accentuating the generous set of my buttocks: not fat, that much I knew now, but good and big all the same, still with a nicely-curving perkiness that served me well.

Libby must have heard the dropping of my pants over the phone -- "ooh, good idea," she said, and I heard her remove her own clothes, obviously for all the better at getting at herself. Just like me.

The penny had dropped. We both knew exactly what we were doing now, and there was little point in pretending otherwise. "Oh Libby..." I breathed, as both my hands fell to my dripping wetness, the fingers of one all over my clit and the fingers of the other plunging in and out of my grasping, ravenous little cunt, "...I can't believe we're doing this together..."

"Kelly..." Libby moaned aloud, her mounting pleasure utterly unadulterated now, "Kelly I'm so wet... I'm so, so wet..."

"Me too, Libs..." I groaned, as the exquisite vision flashed behind my eyeballs: Libby, half-naked now like me, her hands deep inside her, her face a contorted vision of pending orgasmic ecstasy, moaning and groaning and calling my name as she looked at my photos -- 'more photos' I berated myself, sparing a very-moist hand to post two pics at a time now: the first had me unhooking my bra, shot from the front to show my breasts standing right up, large and proud as I reached back with both arms; the second had the bra coming off, both cups clinging most precariously, barely hanging on, hardly retaining the mystery at all...

"Yes, yes, yes..." Lib groaned. "More. More!"

I posted more pics as quick as I could: the next had my arm over my bared breasts, the other laying my bra gently on the bed beside me; I stood front-to-camera, wearing nought but those tiny little whities, with a delicious set to my hips that said to the world "damn it, I know I'm hot! I challenge you to tell me otherwise!" 

And in the next pic -- which I looked at myself so as to see what Libby was seeing as she touched herself while I touched myself -- the next pic had me turned back-to-camera as I peeled off my knickers; the little things were half-way down my thighs, showing the world my glorious bare arse, round like a bell-bottom swinging from my hips, and my back glorious and sexy and bare as I stood just so, my thumbs hooked into my knickers as I pushed them down...

"Ugh..." I heard Libby whimper, very softly, across the line: "I'm nearly there... Kells... I'm so close..."

The news instantly brought me to the brink too. "Uh huh..." I replied tremulously. "Libs... you're so hot Libs, I've looked at so many of your pics Libs, nearly all of them... ugh..."

"Yes...?" Libby prompted, as I fought desperately to control myself enough to talk, type and masturbate all at once.

"Libby, I've looked over your pics, I've watched you undress so slowly, so sexily..." I was ready now: I was ready for Libby to know the truth, I wanted her to know, and the consequences be damned "...and I've come, Libby. I've touched myself and I've come..."

"Ohhh..." Libby quivered over the line: "I'm gunna come too, Kells... show me the last pics, your pics are so fucking sexy, they're gunna make me come tooooo..."

I finally got the last pictures posted: second-to-last was the one I had originally sent Libby, with me curled naked on the bed, arms positioned over my nipples and pussy to barely maintain the mystery; and the last one had me kneeling up on the bed now, arms raised triumphantly over my (cropped-out) head to fluff my hair; my tits stood tall and proud, bared and free, my enormous nipples erect with the excitement of showing myself to the world; and my pussy was there, just barely there to be seen -- I had angled my hips backwards quite expertly so as not to show a gaping cunt, but instead to point it just far enough way from the camera as to provide a hint of pink lips spread and exposed, with perhaps just a tiny little drip of thick white moisture there to be seen...

"Yes," Libby said, hotly and heavily, and I knew the last pic had her there -- she was on the home stretch now. "Yes, yes, yes, yes...!"

"Come for me Libby," I cried, I demanded. "Come for me. Come with me Libby! Come with meeee!"

"I'm comiiiiing!" Libby announced in an anguished, wailing cry -- and we came, we came together, we came really hard. We both sat there and came and came and came; separated by distance but together in mind and spirit, gnashing and screaming for each other as we pounded at ourselves unbearably, both of us with fingers deep inside our hot tight wet little holes as we fingered and rubbed and slapped at ourselves, and we came and came and came.

We finally finished ourselves, I collapsed with exhaustion before the computer and I imagined she did the same, and we just sat there gasping and groaning as our phone bills ticked over to stratospheric highs. "Kelly?" I finally heard, after an eternity of tingling, head-spinning afterglow. "Kells? Are you still there?"

"I'm still here," I panted, still lolling with the light-headed wonder of what we had just done.

"Oh Kelly," Libby declared. "That... was... fucking... AWESOME!"

"It was," I couldn't help but agree. But I was troubled; the reality of it was starting to set in. "But Libs: what did we just do? Was that... was that phone sex?"

"Umm," said Libby, as she thought on it. "Well, I'm sorry Kelly," she began, though I could hear that wicked grin of hers setting in again, "but I'm sure there's nothing else we could call that. We just totally phone-fucked... and it was the most awesome thing ever."

"Oh Libby," I groaned, as I railed against myself. "What have I done?? I've phone-fucked with my oldest friend... and I've cheated on Tom?"

"You call that 'cheating'?" Libby asked with genuine surprise. "Kells, I've gotta tell you -- I've done that with Tom already. I've sent him pics while I talked with him on the phone, and we both totally lost it. Just like that."

I blinked. "You... you did?" I asked, not sure how to feel about it.

"It's not really cheating, not really," Libby reasoned. "I don't really feel that Tom and I cheated on you, and I don't think that you have cheated on Tom with me. I mean: I'm not GAY, or anything," she added, and I could hear old right-wing Libby setting back into her tone. "Phone-fucking isn't like regular-fucking or anything. Neither of us are gay or anything like that; it was just a bit of fun, don't you think?"

I honestly had no idea what to think. All I knew was it had been one of the biggest, highest, most mountainous orgasms I've ever had, and Tom's treated me to quite a few Killimanjaros in my time. "Well..." I began. "If Tom's already done it with you, then I guess I shouldn't feel too guilty about what we've done..."

"Absolutely," Libby agreed. "Anyways, I've made just a little bit of a gushing mess here. I might take my leave of you and go clean up."

"Libby!" I cried -- I hadn't thought she'd be able to shock me after our little hard-to-define encounter, but she'd gone and done it all the same.

Libby chuckled cheekily in reply. "God bless you, Kelly. You're fucking awesome. Keep up the good work in front of the camera... and do be sure to message me next time you're going to post some pics, okay?"

"Only if you're lucky, Libs," I told her, and we bade each other farewell. 

With her gone off the phone, I stood still in absolute shock; I had simply given myself to total, guttural, animal abandonment in what we had done, so much so that with my reason returned I just did not know how to think or feel about it. I was in absolutely no rush to call her again, or see her -- God, how could I face her again, knowing what we had done, what we had shared... what we had seen of each other, heard from each other, told each other and done together? It was all so wonderful and terrible, all at once... I just had to leave it alone. I had to try to forget it for now, and just get on with my life.

So I packed up Tom's camera and tripod, and stuffed them deep back into the cabinet from whence they came. Shock, shame and uncertainty had me thinking I'd never again pose before the camera, nude or otherwise, and that I would very possibly never again see or talk to Libby -- regardless of the friendship we had once had.

But of course, I was to be proven wrong... on both counts.



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 03



After I sent my nude pictures anonymously to Libby, and then confessing my ruse and speaking with her on the phone, and then posting a strip-teasing series of my own on the public boards at Literotica, and losing control with Libby as I did so and degenerating into some of the best (and most confusing) phone sex ever had in the history of the phone -- after all of that, I was sure I'd never do anything like it again.

But the next day, I couldn't keep my mind off it. I could hardly think about anything else. I was like a zombie. The kids could barely hold my attention for more than a couple of minutes, I was so distracted I sent them off to school with each others' lunches, and then in the evening I got Fahrenheit mixed up with Celsius (or vice versa -- bloody ovens) and burnt our dinners and had to take us all out for burgers and chips. My head was stuck firmly in the clouds; I was about as useful as a pair of wet socks.

I couldn't keep myself from reliving the thrills, the excitement, the utter abandonment of what I had done. That night -- the very night after my wickedness with the pictures and with Libby -- I had found a fairly shaky pretext for sending the kids to bed early, I was locked in my room with a heavy settee propped against the door, and I was back on the boards at Literotica, reviewing my work and reliving the night prior.

It was intoxicating; it was like the best drug ever invented, sprinkled over and mixed into the best alcoholic cocktail ever shaken-not-stirred. I went into my own thread and loaded up each of my pics, one by one, just like thousands of other people as indicated by the hit-counters; and I lingered, longly and deliciously over each one of them, rubbing my hands up and down my legs and sides most tenderly, riling myself up exquisitely.

I was nearing the end of my series, and I had only just barely slipped my fingers into my knickers to rub myself up yet again -- I was at serious risk of callusing, such was the frequency of my masturbation over those past few days -- when I received notice of a new PM. I groaned inwardly; either it was yet another unbidden declaration of undying love from some half-balanced perv to join the other fifty-five I had deleted out of my inbox, or it was Libby. And I simply wasn't prepared to deal with her again; I still hadn't quite figured out exactly what had happened between us the night prior, what it meant and how we could go onwards from wherever we were.

But I was wrong; it was neither Libby nor a love-struck puppy. It was aussie_101 -- my husband, Tom! "Well hello, 'misstralia'," he began. "I hardly even dare to say it, but you seem somewhat familiar to me...?"

My heart did double-summersaults of delight. Tom had no idea I had discovered Literotica and the amateur photography boards; he was still overseas on his book tour and would remain so for at least another week. Lord knows for what original purpose he had come onto Literotica (the naughty little boy), but he must have come across the thread that Libby had started, the thread that held my pictures. And as he went through the pictures, he may have recognised my surroundings as our bedroom... or he may have put two and two together, observing that Libby's "very good friend" had a body awfully similar to mine... or he may simply have recognised me by my tits. Heaven above knows he's stared at them for long enough.

But sweetly, having found my pics he hardly dared to hope, hardly dare to pray that it was me -- that I, Kelly his wife, was wicked and demonly enough to take nude photos of myself, and to share them with the world -- and share them with Libby, which on its own was a concept bound to get him all hot and heavy. "...you seem somewhat familiar to me," he had typed; just like him, to state with heavy understatement that which seemed so screamingly obvious, yet so unlikely and wonderful and terrible all at once...

"Hi Tom," I wrote in reply. "You and Libby have been awfully busy, haven't you?"

"OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG," he wrote back, making me laugh. "Holy shit! Holy fuck! Fuck a duck til it's dead! Kelly!!!"

"Yes, Tom," I wrote, with an enormous grin. "You're not the only one in this family who can work a tripod, you know."

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." he typed -- he was obviously having trouble believing it, behaving as though he had won seven lotteries all at once. "You're... you're into this?" he wrote. "You like this?"

I pondered how best to respond... "Fuck yeah!" I wrote. "It's the best thing ever! I never would have thought about it, never would even have considered doing such a thing or that I would enjoy it -- but then I found Firefox on your computer, and found all those literotica pages in your browsing history... and I found Libby's pictures and recognised her by her nurse's costume, and I went through all her photos and I just got so turned on!"

"You did?" Tom asked -- and even from ten thousand miles' distance I could see his optimistic grin.

"Well, not like that -- not how you're thinking," I corrected him. "I was turned on by the concept, not strictly by Libby's tits; the idea of getting your gear off, slowly, shot by shot, with hundreds of people watching on ... it got me quite hot and bothered, I can tell you."

"I know what you mean," wrote Tom. "I'd always wanted to involve you in this, you know? I've had so much fun on this site, it's such a blast -- but you've always been against pornography and erotica and all that sort of stuff, and then me and Libby were kinda sorta dilly-dallying a little bit and I was afraid how you'd take that..."

"Yeah, you two have been a little bit naughty, haven't you?" I wrote, but with a ;) on the end to show it was okay. "Tom: I want you to know I appreciate that you never actually crossed the line with Libby. I checked through all of your posts, and you were never anything more than warm and supportive and just a really good friend to Libby. I love you so much Tom. Thank you for being so good to my friend :-)"

"Aww, don't you worry about it," Tom typed, shortly. We both knew there was a little more to it than that -- Libby had told me about the phone-sex she and Tom had had; but he wasn't going to mention it, and I was actually glad of that because it meant I didn't have to mention the phone-sex that Libby and I had had only the night prior. All of that was something Tom and I could address another time; right now I was just glad to have him, and to have the rest of it out in the open.

"But Kells -- these pics of yours..." Tom went on. "They're just so, so... hot! But still tasteful, and demure, and alluring all at once... it's like you've been posing nude for the camera all your life, you're such a natural! What have you been up to behind my back, eh? Who you been posing for?? ;)"

"Just the postman," I typed. "And the milkman. And all the various visiting plumbers, electricians, carpet-cleaners, pool-boys... you know: the fathers of our children..."

"Yeah yeah," Tom replied, unimpressed at the old joke that I liked to hit him with from time-to-time. "But damn, Kells -- you've got such a huge following already! You're gunna make poor old Libs jealous, you've hijacked half of her fans. You got any more pics of yourself, perchance?" he added, hopefully.

"I was just starting to think about shooting a new series..." I typed, truthfully; while looking over my photos, the urge to pose again was almost overwhelming. An idea occurred: "But you know, I'm not sure I really want to... maybe you should take some pics too, to inspire me... ;)"

"Sounds like a challenge!" Tom typed with obvious glee. "Tell you what: how about we sign off for an hour or so; set up our cameras, do another strip-tease; and then we'll send each other our pics, one-by-one."

"I'll go you one better," I replied, with a wicked grin growing upon my face. "We'll take our pics... go to my thread... and we'll post them up there, one-by-one."

"For all the world to see?"

"What's the matter?" I goaded. "Scared??"

"Hot damn but I'm loving this new exhibitionist in you," Tom told me. "Are you sure you're my wife of ten years? Who is this? What have you done with my Kelly?"

"Oh, so you want the old, prudish, no-nudie-pics Kelly to come back, do you?"

"No no, no no no!" Tom retracted. "No, you tell her she can stay away. I want Kells the Soft-Porn-Star to stay!"

"I thought you might," I grinned. "Okay, see you in an hour. And I'm telling you this now: your boner better be bigger than the one Libby's pics gave you in your last series, or there'll be hell to pay."

"Honey, honestly: your body bangs ten times harder than Libby's," Tom promised me. "I'd fuck you before I'd fuck her any day."

"Good to hear!" I cheered, joyed at the rather forthright news. "Now go get naked, take some pics!"

"I will. You too!"

So we broke off for about an hour. I double-checked that my bedroom door was good and properly braced against the ingress of children, set up the tripod and camera, and got to work. On finishing I put my pics on the computer and did the usual trimming and cropping, removing my face from each shot for the sake of safety; half-way through I got a PM from my Tom, "All done over here -- let me know when you're ready."

A few more minutes of cropping and getting the pics just right, and I was ready. "Okay, let's do this," I PMed him.

"Now are you sure you want to do this on the public boards? In your thread, for everyone to see?" Tom checked again. "I don't mind if you'd rather do it by PM..."

"Don't you think it'd be more fun if we let the world watch? ;)" I told him. Hell if I was gunna do it just by PM; the thought of stripping off again for all and sundry to see, and Tom doing the same, had me quaking at the nether-regions with delicious anticipation.

"Okay then! :)" Tom fired back. "See you there..."

I was already typing a post in my thread -- and the thread was up to its eighth page, flowing over with dozens of praising posts from people all round the world, clammering for more, begging me to post up another series. "Well hello, my many fans," I began. "Thank you so much for all of your kind words. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear: since you've all been most encouraging and inspirational, I've been hard at work with the camera. So prepare yourself for another dose of misstralia... but this time, with a twist: my beautiful husband, aussie_101 himself, is also online tonight; and we're going to do a little strip-tease for each other, going pic for pic, tit for tat, right here in my thread for all of you to enjoy. I'll start things off, now it's over to you, hubby!" 

And I posted my first pic: I was dressed in one of the pants-suits that I wear to work, looking very prim and proper and professional -- a delicious contrast to that which we all knew was ahead.

I didn't have to wait for long; aussie_101's post came up soon after. "Well thank you, misstralia," he began. "It certainly is nice to have you join us all here in the wonderful world of literotica. Good to see you have a healthy army of fans, too! I always told you you're a sexy thing; and from the confident, fiery, raw sexuality we've seen in your pics so far, I'm glad to see you finally believe me."

'Yak yak yak,' I thought. 'Get to the pictures!'

"So here we go: quite by coincidence, you've caught me in my best suit too. A meeting of professionals, as it were ;)" and there was the link at the bottom; loading up the pic I saw he was indeed in one of his nicest suits, quite an expensive one that he likes to wear to meetings with publishers, prospective producers wanting to make films or TV shows from his books, and the like.

Tom always did look fantastic in a suit. He's always had a marvellous strength to his upper body, blessed with broad shoulders, a subtle power in the set of his chest and good strong arms; the suit, trimmed and cut expensively and expertly with the barest hint of padding about the shoulders, only served to emphasise and highlight his assets.

"Looking good, babe!" I typed in my reply, with which I posted my next picture: turned to the back now with butt-to-camera, my generous booty and hourglass curves were there to see -- it's only now that I've seen it so often from this angle have I realised that my arse is actually quite awesome, if I do say so myself.

"Great minds think alike..." wrote Tom: his next pic was almost the same pose as mine, he'd turned around rump-to-camera and he had hitched his suit-jacket up just a touch to better reveal that cute little arse of his: perky, firm and muscular; I always have loved Tom's butt...

"Very nice... now let's REALLY get started ;)" I wrote. In the attached picture I was shrugging out of my suit jacket, revealing a fine white button-down blouse beneath; this shirt was fairly thin, not totally opaque, and a hint of black lacy bra could be seen beneath.

"Right back atcha!" Tom replied -- and his photo was again the same, him kicking his shoulders out of his jacket with an overwrought, manly flourish that made me smile at his deliberate dopiness.

"Nice pose in that shot of yours," I teased, with a :P on the end. Nevertheless, I still attached my next picture, showing me with the shirt half-unbuttoned; the shirt was fairly loose and billowy, falling away from my nicely-large breasts to reveal a few hints of sexy red lace worked into my black bra.

"Ooh! I've always loved that bra :)" Tom assured me. His picture was a bit different to mine, he was in the midst of slipping his expensive, button-down silk shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it; the pose served to flatter his stomach, which was not overly ripped or muscular but still strong, flat and with the faintest outlines of a six-pack to be seen, with a light and manly covering of his fair-coloured chest hair extending down his stomach and disappearing below his belt.

"In a hurry to get nekkid, are we?" I prodded, as I posted up my next pic: another slow step along the process, with my shirt fully unbuttoned now and my arms reaching back and down to let the shirt fall behind me to the floor, a pose designed to help my breasts stand up and push together even better.

"Would ya look at that cleavage!" Tom implored of no-one in particular. "Awesome, baby: truly awesome. You're getting me good and riled-up now, my dear..." he confessed, with a knowing ;) as he posted another picture of his own: the shirt was off, his strong and manly chest was bare and set in a macho, shoulders-back and somewhat-tilted pose -- though his face was cropped out I could imagine him trying to pull some sort of smoky-eyed, searing gaze in the style of a modern male uber-model.

"Riled, are we? Feeling the heat, eh?" I responded, coyly. My new picture had me back-to-camera again, with my suit-pants coming down; my bottom was pooched out just that tiny little bit so as to emphasise the booty, as it were, which was adorned with a black-and-red lacy V-string bottom to match the bra.

"Aww man..." wrote Tom, and I imagined him groaning it with exquisite pleasure as he drank in the sight of my partially-exposed buns, framed vampishly in the alluring dark lace of my underwear. "I've always loved those bangers, too! By fuck you are hot, my dear :)" and even in the short time since I had last refreshed the page, other people had put up their own posts in agreement with him; indeed, each of our posts were interrupted and interspersed with the hot-and-heavy contributions of others.

But I cared not for the opinions of these bystanders: I clicked greedily on the pic Tom had attached to his post. With no bra to take off and his chest fully bared, Tom would have foreseen he'd have to slow things down so as not to overtake me in my series -- so he hadn't advanced too far in his strip-tease, merely having unbuckled the belt and slipped it a way out of his trousers, brandishing the thing in what I'm sure he had thought was a dangerous manner (it came across as comical in the end -- but that's my Tom for you).

I decided to turn up the heat a little. "Glad you like, my dear," I wrote. "Now: tell me what you're doing, right now..." and I posted it up without a picture attachment.

"Umm..." came Tom's quick reply, "you didn't post up a pic with that one...?"

"And I'm not gunna post any more til you tell us all what you're doing to yourself ;)" I posted back, thrilling in my wickedness -- Libby wasn't the only one who could blackmail a rise out of Tom.

"Let's just say... I've got a really good grip on things :D" was Tom's short, suggestive reply.

"Mmm... I'll bet you do..." I wrote; as I posted it up with a new picture, I imagined what Tom was doing on the other side of the world: crouched in front of his laptop, drooling over my pics with his piece out -- large and hard, tall and erect as always, with his hand stroking it gently and slowly. In the picture I'd posted, my trousers were gone, and I stood proudly before the camera in my underwear: there I was, exposed, curvaceous, voluptuous and hot... The entire situation had my own excitement bubbling over, and I greedily thrust my hand into my pants once again, pressing down hard over my spot and biting my lip at the pleasure brought by my rough self-treatment.

"That's right: I've got a good firm grip... and I'm giving it just a bit of a rub, only very gently..." Tom continued. He had guessed at what I wanted from him: I wanted him to tell me, and tell everybody how he was pleasuring himself, how he was getting himself off good and hard while he stared at my pics, how he was wanking over pics of his hot sexy wife. And the picture he'd attached was a good one: continuing his strip-tease, the belt was gone and the fly was undone, and he had both hands about his pelvis: one held one side of his pants up, but the other reefed the opposite side of his pants down a good long way, showing off a bit of the bulge in his jocks and an alluring bit of upper-thigh and lower-pelvis.

"Ooh... me like..." I wrote in reply; I went back to drink in the picture again, lingering good and long, immersed in the strength of his chest and stomach, the beautiful proportion about his hips and legs, and the gloriously large bulge in his partially-revealed jocks... I was rubbing myself now, my fingers slipping under the crotch of my panties (the same black-and-red lacy ones, I'd put them back on after I'd finished taking my pics) and seeking out my tingling little clit amid the slick depths of my pooling juices. "Me like very much," I finished typing, attaching my next picture and posting it up.

My new picture: now I had my arms reaching back again, having freshly undone my bra, and it was falling forwards, falling off my breasts, slipping down, almost (but not quite) revealing my nipples, almost (but not quite) giving the game away... 

"Oh baby -- you do tease so! You strip far too slowly," Tom admonished. "Come on, give it up quicker. Show us the lot!"

"All in good time..." I grinned. "Now come on: your turn. Where's your next pic??"

"Okay okay, hold your horses ;)" Tom wrote in his reply. "Tis tricky, typing and attaching pics with only one hand..."

"Mmm, I know what you mean..." I wrote in reply -- I grinned an even larger Cheshire-style grin, and decided it was time to get into some raunchy detail. "...I've got one hand well and truly devoted to pleasuring myself; it's thrust hard down my pants, into my panties, and I'm working long, slow and hard at my wet, hot, sopping little cunt..."

"!!!" was all he wrote, as he finally posted up his next pic: now his trousers were on the floor about his ankles, and to top it off he had reefed one side of his grundies down to bare his hip and show off some of his pubes -- a trick I remembered him pulling in his last series, the one he'd so grudgingly posted up (yeah right -- "grudgingly" my arse) so as to end Libby's self-imposed embargo on her own pictures.




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 03



I grinned some more as I imagined his reaction to my steamy little confession: a gasping, groaning response to my open, honest, slutty confession; a response, I was sure, that was repeated by a thousand other pervs all around the world, all looking in on our mutual strip-tease and posting up little notes about their own horniness. I didn't acknowledge them, but I was glad of their witness all the same. Knowing that we were doing this in front of so many nameless, faceless strangers added ten-fold to the taboo and the pleasure.

My last little confession had given them all quite enough to chew on (and wank over), so all I wrote with my next posted picture was "mmm..." And my picture: the bra was gone but the goods weren't yet revealed, as I had turned my back on the camera. I'd taken a trick from Libby's copy-book, turning at a three-quarters-back, one-quarter-side-on angle to the camera, just enough that the profile of a bared breast and just a hint of nipple could be seen; it had taken a lot of attempts in front of the self-timer camera to get that angle just right. So up top, there was my glorious bare back, almost-but-not-quite-enough of my big, generous boob, and down low there was that booty of mine: still wearing the dark lacy V-string but not for long, as indicated by my thumbs hooked into the waist, having peeled it lower by the tiniest amount...

"Oh man," Tom wrote in reply. "Oh man... misstralia... your pics, misstralia, you're so hot -- such a delicious, agonising tease...!"

"Tell me how hot I've made you," I demanded. "Tell me how horny my hot body has made you!!"

"Misstralia: I'm wanking so hard I'm in danger of snapping it off," Tom confessed. "Ugh... I'm pounding and pounding away, it's so close, it's right there, but it won't come... misstralia, I need to see more," he urged, demanded, begged. "I need more. I won't come til I see the end...!!1!"

I laughed at his pathetic, horny implorations. I felt so empowered, so in-control, so... so like a Woman. How I loved this. How I regretted swearing Tom off of Literotica all those years ago; to think we may have discovered these joys together so much sooner... "Well it's your turn, aussie_101," I reminded him. "Come on, tit-for-tat -- no more of mine til we get more of yours..."

"Oh yeah. Here you go," he typed shortly -- doubtless for the better of keeping a hand on his cock -- and he posted his next pic: turned about again, his arse was bare now before the camera, his underwear now gone. And he had gone and stolen a Libby trademark too: his hips were twisted at that famous three-quarters angle, far enough so that not only his gorgeous little butt was on camera, but also the first hint of his big, long, fat cock was visible, long and low as its head curled in a serpentine fashion about his muscly thigh...

His picture hit me like a cement truck dropped from on high -- suddenly my pleasure was trebled, my breath was short and catching in my throat, my heart pounded at hyperspeed. All of a sudden I had to have my pants off so I could get at myself better, and they were gone with hardly a conscious thought, my horniness taking control of my arms and reefing myself half-naked within the blink of an eye.

His picture was so awesome, so rousing, and I had to pay it praise. "OMG... Oh... oh Tom..." I posted.

"Oi -- careful with the names, my dear," he warned via PM.

I froze. In my hazy, horny state I'd forgotten about the discretion necessary in this sort of dodgy environment; happily there was the facility to go back and edit what I had posted, so I went back and changed it: "oh aussie," I wrote instead, "that pic... that pic is driving me wild...!"

"Glad to hear it, my love :)" Tom wrote in a new post. "And now it's your turn..."

I decided to try and flex my muscles again, as it were. "Nuh uh," I denied, as I rubbed furiously at myself, my orgasm brinking like a tidal wave but refusing to break. "Want more of you. Need more of you... more... MORE...!"

"No dice, my dear :P" he wrote back, most cheekily. "Two can play at this game. It's tit for tat, just like you said. I've tatted... now it's your turn to tit."

"Fine," I pouted -- I had hoped I could exert some wicked pressure on him and make him my bitch... if only for this one time... but he was strong, he'd not suffer any worse from me than I would from him, just like always. "Okay then: tell me how you like this one...?" And this next picture was a step above my usual: I had turned to face the camera, breasts bare and uncovered, sitting large and proud for all the world to see; though I had shown as much before, this time my hand had slipped into my lacy, partly-transparent knickers, and there was no mistaking where my fingers were lying or what they were toying with...

"Aww yeah," Tom wrote in quick reply. "Aww yeah... aww yeah!!" And for his grand finale he had posted his own full-frontal pic; very similarly to how he had ended his series for Libby, in the background of his shot was his laptop showing one of my more revealing pictures, thus proving the inspiration for the enormous, bulging, rod-like erection that he displayed proudly for the camera... and yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was even bigger than the throbbing monster that Libby's pics had given him; bigger than I had ever seen before.

The sight of his cock -- hard and long, hard for me, hard because of me and my hot naked body, harder than it ever had been before -- that did it for me; I reared back in my chair and came, howling noiselessly at the roof (eight years of sharing a house with children had perfected my art of the noiseless orgasm). I fought and struggled valiantly to maintain a modicum of control, rising triumphantly through the pulsing, swamping waves of blinding pleasure to post up the response I had already prepared: "that's done it... I'm coming... I'm coming!!!" and with it my own, final picture: now my knickers were suddenly gone and similar to the end of my last series, I was again up on my knees on the bed, tits and pussy akimbo, but this time I had put more on display: my cunt was not angled away from the camera but towards, rudely towards the camera, but I wasn't totally exposed because my fingers were partially in the way -- some thrust hard into my pussy, others all over my clit, all of them working my spilling juices into a thick white froth.

"There she is!!" Tom hollered in his own post. "There's my wife... there's my fucking wife!!!!!" And I could tell by the over-abundance of punctuation that he was coming too, he was coming hard, real hard as he drank in the rudeness of my dripping frothing wet pussy crammed full of fingers posted up for all the world to see, and I kept coming too as I drank in the sight of his throbbing twitching over-gorged cock standing tall and proud in response to my newfound horny slutty sultriness.

After an eternity of riding that cresting wave, as I finally began to wind down from the awesome high, as my overwhelming pleasure ebbed into a sweet, deep afterglow, I received notice of a new PM. I was expecting it to be Tom, noting how mind-blowingly awesome that experience had been, how he wished we had come to this point together so much earlier on in our relationship -- on opening it I saw it was indeed from Tom, though it was on an unexpected topic:

"Holy shit... did you see what Libby's just posted on the thread?" he wrote.

I blinked. Libby... Libby? What did she have to do with any of this? She hadn't been online... she hadn't been watching it, watching us, perving on us and our shenanigans... had she?

I rushed back to my thread, and found that Libby had indeed posted up a quick little message once Tom and I had been done: "You guys are seriously fucking HOT. Just look what you did to me... ;-)" and the precocious little thing had included a link to a picture of her own. 

I didn't even stop to think about it. I simply clicked to open it without a conscious instruction from my brain, and there on my screen was an enormous close-up of Libby's own gaping cunt; there were a few of her fingers, holding her sex open for the camera and still resting upon her gorging clit, and every scrap of skin that could be seen was slick with her own hot sticky come-juices.

I boggled at the shot, my eyes drawn into her disappearing, hot, purple depths. Never before had I seen anything so exposed, so personal, so blatantly pornographic... yet so hot. My hand leapt back to my clit and I was coming again in next to no time, as I masturbated fiercely at the incredible sight of my best friend's most personal inner depths.

After I had gaped and gasped, whimpered and came, eyes locked unblinking on Libby's hot wet cunt for a seeming eternity, Tom eventually sent through another PM to prod me. "You there, Kelly? Did you see it?"

'Oh, I saw it all right,' I thought. Once again, the sight of Libby had brought me to an enormous orgasm -- an orgasm even bigger than the one I'd worked for so long to achieve over Tom's photos, an orgasm that came almost instantly for Libby though it took forever for Tom. 

But what did it mean? What did this mean for my relationship with Libby... and what would it mean about my feelings for Tom? 

"Tom," I wrote -- I had to raise this with him. I had to seek some solace on this, some comfort or advice; and Tom was the best source, he had always proven so supportive through the years. I knew I could trust him with this.

"Tom," I wrote, "I saw it, I saw Libby's cunt... and it made me come. Libby's cunt made me come, I touched myself when I saw it and I came straight away. I came really hard. Tom..." and my tears started to spill even as I wrote: tears of confusion, of upset, of fear... fear that this new habit of mine, this habit of coming for Libby would alienate Tom, upset him, disgust him. 

"Tom: what does this mean? I never ever thought for a second I was gay, I've never before had these feelings or desires for Libby in all the years I've known her -- in nearly twenty years! But now..."

"Hun, hun, hun," Tom wrote back, and I imagined a soothing note in his tone. "It's okay. Just because you find her pictures sexy and arousing, it doesn't mean you strictly have a real sexual or emotional desire for HER. It's just her pics. It's all about her pics. It's just the thrill of it, of seeing these pictures of her most personal bits in this context and this situation -- it's all just the newness of it all, the shock and allure of it. 

"I totally understand it bub," he went on. "I mean, I wanked myself silly over her pictures heaps of times, I did it day after day for ages and ages and I came like the thunder every time... but it didn't mean I wanted to fuck her. I'd never want to fuck anybody but you, Kells, I promise. It's not an emotional thing, or a homosexual thing in your case; it's just a response -- it's just something our body does in this situation."

"You think so?" was all I wrote back.

"I'm sure," Tom promised me. "Though just quietly, between you and me: if you do turn gay for Libby and have tons of hot lesbo sex with her, I'll forgive you... so long as I get to see the pics ;-)"

I laughed. That was just so typically Tom. "You're probably not even joking," I accused him.

"You know what they say: there's a kernel of truth behind every joke... heh heh," Tom wrote. "Now you'll have to excuse me, I've got some cleaning up to do. Got cum everywhere!"

"That's just what she said, last time," I told him. And it was the truth.

"I'll bet it was! I'll bid you goodnight, Kelly... and you know what? You are the hottest, most fuckable wife anybody anywhere has ever had in the entire history of matrimony. God I love you, Kelly -- I love you so, so much."

This brought the biggest, gladdest smile out of me of all. "Love you too, Tom," I told him. "And thanks... :)" I watched him log off, but I remained on literotica; I went back to the audacious, utterly exposed picture that Libby had posted in my thread, in response to the strip-teasing session Tom and I had shared, and I thought on it... and thought on it... and thought on it some more...

"Listen, Libby," I wrote in a new PM. "I think we need to get together to talk."



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 04



The next evening I had the kids packed off to their grandparents' place for the night, ostensibly so I could have a perfectly ordinary and innocent 'girls night in'. Well, fair enough, a girls night in was in the planning, but perhaps not the sort of night anyone else was expecting... and as it turned out, certainly not the night I was exactly expecting either.

I had no idea what to expect out of it, out of inviting Libby over to talk about what we had done, what I was feeling (though even I didn't know what I was feeling -- I hoped/feared that by learning how Libby felt about it, it may shed some light on my own feelings), along with other questions: what did it mean? What, if anything, could we do about it? 

In only the past couple of days, Libby and I had gone from Best Friends Forever to something more. I had found her stash of nude, semi-porno and hard-porno photography on Literotica, and I had taken and shared some raunchy pics of my own, and we had both masturbated over pictures of each other and we came, coming separately at times and at other times coming together; in one instance even coming together on the phone, confessing and hollering our utter horniness for each other as we did so, in what may (or may not?) have constituted phone sex. Even that much was not certain.

And now -- now that the heat of the moment had passed -- I simply couldn't let it lie without some sort of good, thorough dissertation. What did it mean? Were we really that hot for each other? Were we gay? Was I, or was she gay? We never thought so, never for one second in our previous twenty years of friendship did either of us feel or notice an attraction for the other... but now we had come to this juncture, where I only had to look at a picture of her soft pink lips spread rudely wide, her sticky juices running fast and free and covering every square inch of her, and I'd have myself coming in nearly no time at all.

I couldn't leave it lie; I couldn't ignore it, pretend it was nothing, simply forget it. I had to sort it out, had to chew it out and discuss it with her, and find out where it had us once and for all. So I invited her over for drinks. Well, hell if I could have done it while sober!

I got myself dressed, did my hair and applied my make-up to my very utmost and best. For some reason I really wanted to look as good as I possibly could, I simply had to impress her with my beauty. (And again: what did THAT mean?) And as I got ready, as I tried on outfit after outfit and struggled to decide what looked hottest on me, the clock wound down to our agreed rendezvous time. Watching the clock, I found my heart beating harder and faster; I haven't been this nervous about a meeting since ten years ago, after Tom and I had flirted over the internet (in a forum different -- and far more innocent -- than Literotica's) and we had finally arranged to meet face-to-face.

But that was different to what I was preparing for now. Much different. Back then I was meeting Tom for the first time; all I knew of him was what he had told me in emails and over IM programs, what he sounded like over the phone, and as good an idea of what he looked like (very cute -- instantly likeable) that I could get in a few photos he had sent. But now: now I was getting ready to meet Libby at my house for a few drinks, like we had done a million times before -- except since the last time we had met face-to-face, we had shared pictures of our naked bodies and of our most personal, intimate parts, pictures of ourselves touching ourselves up and bringing ourselves to wet, gushing orgasms -- and to top it all off, the last time we had spoken on the phone it had been an incredible, heavy, hot session of phone sex. And now I had invited her over, to try to talk it out... 

Was I mad? How could I possibly approach this -- how were we going to sort it out? I had no idea what it all meant; I was afraid of what it might mean. I didn't really want to be attracted to Libby. I was happily married to such a wonderful man in Tom, and we'd gone and built such an enviable life together, had two kids, built a mansion off the proceeds of his success... and here I was, jeopardising it all for the (vain?) hope that what Libby and I had done together could be easily explained away, laughed about and simply forgotten... and risking the possibility that it may instead grow, may become something even more...

'Maybe I should warn her off,' I thought, as I finally settled on an outfit: a nice black dress, cut to the knee and nicely-fitting, showing a fair length of bare back and just a tasteful hint of cleavage in front. 'Maybe I should call her, tell her it would be best if we just left it alone.'

But no, I decided. Libby and I had been friends, best friends in fact, since the first day of high school -- for decades, twenty years now. Our friendship was itself an important relationship to me; too important to risk losing if we were to let this fester, if we tried to ignore it and ended up ignoring each other. I didn't want to lose Libby; as afraid as I was of where we might go if we delved into this, I was equally afraid -- more so -- of what would likely happen if we didn't.

I'd just barely come to that conclusion when I saw Libby's car turn into our long driveway at the bottom of the hill. "Too late now..." I murmured to myself; so I started carrying the requisite booze, glasses and nibblies out to the patio by the pool.

"Hey there, sexy!" crowed Libby as she tottered into view, dressed and made-up to a similarly high standard of my own, wearing a white strapless dress that was cut quite low on her chest and high on her legs, tight-fitting and flattering. I'd seen it before, she had been wearing it quite a lot recently; Libby tended to favour the one dress for weeks at a time, sometimes buying two or three copies of the same dress just in case. That's our Libby for you...

"Hey Libby," I said, warmly and with amusement; she walked right up to me and laid a delicate, non-lipstick-smudging kiss upon my cheek, her hands clutching mine and holding them tightly. "Look at us!" I had to laugh. "We're so dolled up, both of us... it's like we're heading off to Derby Day!"

"Well, I simply HAD to put on my gladdest glad-rags before I came to meet the newest Queen of Literotica," Libby told me, with a wicked grin.

"Now now, I'll never dethrone 'Libya's Finest' from that title," I demurred; and so it was said, out in the open and face to face: we'd acknowledged what we'd been up to on Literotica. "Well, come on -- let's sit down and have a few cocktails, shall we?"

"Let's shall!" Libby agreed, and sit we did, treating ourselves to tall brimming glasses poured from the pitchers of booze I had mixed in preparation for a big, nerve-wracking night.

"Kelly, I have to tell you," Libby began, in a conspiratorial, confessional tone. "After I'd been checking out these pictures that had been sent to me privately by a beautiful, voluptuous, totally sexy young woman, and then she finally sent me one with her head not cropped out -- and it turned out to be you..." her grin, which had been growing throughout her story, cranked up another notch "...I very nearly inked myself!"

"Surprise!" I giggled, belatedly and self-consciously.

"Surprised? You could have knocked me down with a feather!" she declared, followed by a hearty sip from her drink.

"Well, I thought it would be the best way to get you back for all those cheeky little shenanigans you and Tom got up to behind my back," I told her, but not unkindly; she and Tom had behaved (relatively) innocently enough, and I bore neither of them any malice. "I just wish you guys had gotten me involved sooner!"

"Oh Kelly, we couldn't! I couldn't!" she cried. "It's such a wonderful, mind-blowing thing, posting pics of yourself up for all to see... but to try to explain it to someone else? You just couldn't do it! Imagine if we had switched places -- if you had gotten into all of this before me, and if you were trying to convince me how fun it was and trying to get me to join in..."

"You'd never have had a bar of it," I agreed.

"I know!" Libby cried. "I mean, me of all people," she went on, with a hand on her chest that drew my eyes to her bosom -- a bosom I had seen quite a lot of, these last few days... "I would have been the last person to understand!" she continued. "I used to be so stuffy, so conservative..."

"And now you're sending people pictures of your twat," I finished for her, with a wicked grin all the same.

"Exactly!" Libby laughed. "It's such a NAUGHTY little thrill, isn't it?" she added, beaming at having someone with whom she could share in this naughtiness.

"I'll say it is," I nodded, wholeheartedly; this was going well, I had noted. It was going so well, and it was such a relief that I needn't have been so worried -- I was drinking fairly heavily from my cocktail, and I felt my abandon slipping away more and more. "And you know what I love? I love the artistry available to you... like, you know, anyone could just slap up a picture of their glistening slit with no more than a how-de-do. But to attract and hold the admiration of all, and keep them coming back with post after post of how horny you make them, all you need to do is slow it down; show them just a little bit, take off your clothes nice and slow, piece by piece..."

"You just can't beat a good strip-tease," Libby agreed. "Tom was right -- he taught me all about this, you know," she confided. "He taught me everything I know, he gave me every trick I use; we've got Tom to thank for all of this, all of the fun we've had!"

"That's right," I remembered. "I haven't asked him exactly how it all started... How did he put you on to Literotica? I know he's been a fan of it for years, but all I know is that you came to stay at our house that time, and then all of a sudden you were taking pictures of yourself in our spare bedroom..."

"Okay: here's how it happened," she began. "You remember the last time Glen kicked me out because I kind-of-sort-of gave his best mate a blowjob?"

"How do you 'kind-of-sort-of' give someone a blowjob?" I quizzed her.

She grinned, caught out in her sluttiness and utterly unabashed. "Anyways..." she said, to move us on. "So I came to live with you guys, but you were off to work every day and your kids were off to school, so it was just me in the house and Tom was always there -- he is such a bludge, I'm sorry to say," she added. "He spends all day every day lounging round the pool, soaking up the sun, drinking Long Island Iced Teas and looking up amateur porn!"

"He takes it pretty easy, sometimes," I was forced to agree. "But when he does get into the thick of his writing, he works very hard; he'll go solid for days, locked in front of the keyboard for eighteen, twenty hours a day -- he'll do a hundred thousand words in the space of a week."

"I'll believe it," Libby nodded. "I've read a lot of his work. A lot of his erotica, too," she added, with a wink. "Have you got into any of that yet? He's got tons of stuff up on Literotica..."

I blinked. "It hadn't even occurred to me," I realised. "I must go have a look at it later..."

"You'll love it, I'm sure," she assured me. "But never mind that. Back to the story! Our story!"

"Back to our story!" I saluted, and we drank to that, draining our glasses and prompting a refill.

"Yes," she began, sounding just a little unsteady. "So I've come out here in my bikini and sarong, and there he is -- laptop not even turned on; he's just soaking up the rays and drinking by the pool, early on a Monday morning. So we get to talking, and for some reason or another: I ask him if he wants to see my boobs."

I stopped, and squinted a little at her. "Libby," I began. "'For some reason or another' is not quite going to cut it, my dear. Exactly why did you want to get your tits out for my husband?"

"I dunno. I was feeling sorry for myself," Libby shrugged, making the aforementioned tits jiggle around in her dress; 'is she wearing a bra at all?' I found myself wondering. 

"See, Glen had just dumped me," Libby went on. "He'd thrown me and my stuff out of our house, just like that, like I meant nothing to him at all; all it took was one little blowjob on his mate and that was all he needed to throw me out of his life. It made me feel like shit."

I just had to grin at Libby -- somehow she always managed to put that certain kind of spin on things, to make sure that she wasn't the one to blame. Oh sure, Libby gobbled up his best mate's cock and swallowed shot after shot (she was a swallower, without doubt; I knew Libby...) but Glen was the bastard for daring to make her feel bad about it. That's how our Libby's mind works.

"So there I was... I was feeling so unattractive," said Libby, making me shake my grinning head at her even more. "I was looking at myself and saying 'if he found it so easy to get rid of me, I mustn't be as hot as I thought I was. I bet it's cos of my boobs. I bet if his old girlfriend -- the one with the huge knockers -- I bet if SHE'D done what I'd done, SHE'D have got away with it.'"

"So were you saying this to Tom?" I checked.

"Yeah," Libby nodded -- as though it was perfectly normal and usual to have no inner monologue. God bless our Libby. "And I'd just started thinking about plastic surgery; get my tits nice and big, just like yours in fact," she added, with an appreciative glance at my own bosom, "but Tom, bless his heart, spoke up and told me 'no way! Don't you dare ruin your boobs with surgery! You've got the nicest little puppies there, Libs. Don't you dare slice'n'dice them.'"

"That's what he said?"

"Well, he said it nicer than that," Libby assured me. "He said it in the nicest and most supportive way, not at all sleazy; I was so thankful to him, I had been in such a need for some reassurance that I was still hot, that I still had it... so... well, I guess I just wanted to thank him."

"So you tried to get your tits out for him," I said -- not unkindly, just to move the story along.

"Yeah!" she said, brightly. "I offered him a flash, and I even reached for my top to pull it off, but he said 'no no! No, don't do that!' He stopped me really quickly, Kells," she promised me. "He could see it wasn't something we should do: my boobs in his face, behind your back, that wouldn't have been right. But then, he turned around and said 'but if you're really desperate to show your boobs to somebody, well I just happen to know this little website...'"

"...and the rest is history," I finished for her. "Well, okay then. That's innocent enough, I suppose."

"He was perfectly innocent, a perfect gentleman," Libby promised me. "He wouldn't even take the pictures for me, he showed me how to use his camera's self-timer and everything."

"It didn't stop him from going to the site and looking at your pics though," I pointed out, grinning at his cheek.

"Well... can you really blame him?" Libby asked, putting on airs and running a hand jokingly over her boobs and her body.

"I can't say I could blame him at all," I allowed, laughing at her silliness.

And so we sat by the pool in the warm autumn night, dressed in our finest, downing drink after drink as Libby recounted her history on Literotica and with Tom; she gave me the details of their own little phone-sex session, telling me that Tom and her had come together while looking over some pictures she had taken of Glen getting into her. When she got to that part of the story I found myself shocked -- I couldn't believe that she'd actually taken pictures of her and Glen actually fucking each other, actual images of hard-core sex!

"But I've never seen those pics," I breathed with wonder, my heart gone fluttery at the very concept of them.

"Oh no, I never posted them on the public boards," said Libby. "No, that's strictly against the rules, they outlaw images of actual heavy sex acts. No, I sent them to Tom by PM."

I sat frozen with a drink in hand -- my third tall cocktail glass in less than an hour; I found myself unconsciously squeezing my legs together, lest the sudden flood of moisture in my crotch escape my panties and start pooling on the floor beneath me. "Libby..." I heard myself say, "I'm gunna need to see those pics."

Libby's face flashed with joy. "Okay!" she said brightly. "Let's go check out your computer..."

And so it was that we found ourselves back in my bedroom, sitting on my bed (our bed -- the bed I share with Tom, at least when he's not out of the country), craning over my laptop; we sat close together, very close, as Libby signed herself in to literotica.com. "Just let me find my old private messages..." she said; "ah, here we are."

I leaned in even closer to her, all the better for seeing the pictures; but also, at the same time, all the better for getting close to Libby, leaning hard against her, close enough to smell her perfume, squishing my boob against her arm, thrilling at the close quarters with this woman and at the mere thought of what we were about to see... I no longer worried or cared about what we had done, what we were doing, what we might do. I simply acted; I threw thought and inhibition to the wind, and simply waited to see what would come.

"Here's the first pic..." she announced; she opened it, and there was Libby: full length and uncropped, she was clad only in a bit of a lacy pink g-string with a sort of a fluffy belt about it; her hands were grasping her breasts, bare and delicious and fulsome, holding them up and squeezing them together; but she had a look of distraction, she was looking past the camera at someone. "You see, I was home alone and shooting another series of me on my own, but then Glen came home and walked in on me, right as the camera was going off," she explained.

"Damn..." I murmured. I had already seen plenty of pics of Libby's body, tits out or otherwise; but this was the first actual one I had seen where her face hadn't been trimmed off, it was the first actual proof that these shots were indeed of Libby. Seeing her face and her body -- her breasts bared, the rest of the mystery barely maintained by a fluffy bit of pink underwear -- seeing her face and body together was ever more alluring, and I found myself running a finger up and down the neckline of my dress, tracing softly over my hot skin and teasing me terribly.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Libby promised, in response to my whispered oath; she was so engrossed in the computer that she didn't seem to notice my helpless excitement. "Now when Glen walked in on me, he was really suspicious. He thought I was taking the pics to email them to another bloke. Which I sort of was doing, with your Tom," she allowed, "though I wasn't going to tell Glen about that or about Literotica, I didn't want his dopey arse to have anything to do with any of that. Literotica was for me, it was my thing, I didn't need him to fuck it up."

"Uh huh," I said quickly. "And the next pic...?"

Libby caught my eye, just for a moment; her eyes flashed down to see my hand tracing the edge of my dress's neckline, running from the side of my neck down to the very edge of my breast. She shared a lovely, warm smile with me; with her free hand she grabbed my own free hand and squeezed it tightly, as she browsed through her PMs with the other hand and loaded up the next pic as requested.

"The next pic..." she said, as it loaded: "I'd just convinced the dumb-arse that I was taking the pics for him, they were going to be a present for him -- stupid fool -- and I'd suggested that, well since he was there, we should get some pics of us doing 'the nasty'." And indeed, the picture showed Libby shuffling back on the bed as Glen climbed on; he looked hesitant, unsure. I didn't really want to see Glen there -- though contradictorily, at the same time I was dying to see shots of Libby fucking someone, getting fucked. 




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 04



'If only it had been Tom in these shots instead of Glen...' I found myself thinking; but then I realised what I had actually thought, and I boggled at myself. I would never want to see Tom fucking anybody else; I surely couldn't actually entertain the thought of my Tom fucking my best friend Libby... could I?

Libby saved me from further thoughts along those lines, by loading up the next pic; I noticed that when she was finished loading up the picture, she laid her hand on her thigh, tracing her own fingers up and down along her own skin -- she must have been as randy as I. "And in this pic," she went on, describing the scene for me like a tour guide though I could see it full and well for myself, "I decided to put my clothes back on, and get shots of Glen tearing my clothes off." She was right: in the picture she had redressed herself in a simple blouse-and-skirt combination, and Glen had torn open her blouse to expose her bare-naked titties, standing proud and round and full.

"Mmm..." I heard myself saying. "It's a good pic," I added hurriedly, trying to chase away my unintended little moan by talking over it. "That's a nice trick, there: by leaving your bra off when he tore your shirt open, it left you with your tits standing out really nicely from the opened shirt ..." 

"It's nice to have tits that let you get about without really needing a bra," Libby grinned, and without warning she released my hand -- and she reefed her strapless dress down, flashing me her pert little braless boobies as proof; well, her C-cups aren't that little, though they are compared against my own double-Ds...

"Libby!" I cried, with a laugh. "Put them away, you cheeky thing!"

"Okay, okay," Libby laughed at herself, grudgingly tucking her goods back into her dress. "Felt good though -- I've been busting to flash you all night."

I shook my head at her, grinning with delight all the same.

"Care to return the favour?" she prodded, with a wink to play down her obviously serious desire to see my own boobs in the flesh.

"Sorry: too many bras and straps in the way for a quick flash," I told her, as though her request was otherwise perfectly reasonable.

"Dang," she cursed. "Ah well, let's see some more pics shall we? Here we go..." and she loaded up the next one, grasping my hand again as she did so; she seemed in constant need of the physical connection, to enhance and enforce the joy of sharing something so very personal with me, and I rewarded it by squeezing her hand warmly in return. "And there I am: I'm laying back, and Glen has pushed my skirt up and he's..."

"I can see," I interrupted. It was an awesome pic, already on a new level over her regular, relatively chaste strip-teases -- as she laid back against the bed-head, shirt open and tits out, she had her legs up and spread... and Glen was in the process of removing her fluffy-belted pink G-string. And though the G-string had only travelled half-way down her thighs, already one could see around it, around her legs and around Glen's arms to catch a tantalising glimpse of her shaved pussy.

There it was: bald and hot and tight, so beautiful, so enticing... And though her legs were partially spread those glorious pink lips remained tight, prim and puckered, not yet revealing the hot wetness that undoubtedly lay within... "Fuck me, Libby..." I breathed, more as an oath than an actual suggestion. "Those legs..." I murmured, as Libby expanded the picture to zoom in on her crotch as much as possible. "And those thighs... and that pussy," I added.

"Isn't it just the most awesome thing you've ever seen?" Libby sighed, similarly breathy and awed at her own work, her own body. "Isn't that such a hot shot? Look at my cunt, Kelly..." she begged, softly, suggestively as she squeezed my hand ever-tighter "...look at my cunt... and there's more to come, too..."

I thrilled at our close contact, as Libby browsed away from the picture to find the next one. There we were, almost sitting in each other's laps, clutching our free hands tightly, my spare hand teasing my neckline (and now occasionally dropping down to pinch a nipple, when I thought Libby wasn't really looking) and her spare hand running all over her thighs when it wasn't at work on the computer; it occurred to me that our spare hands could swap their duties, she could be touching me, I could be touching her... 

...but no, I decided. We'd hardly been together for an hour at that point; why do such a thing so early, when there was surely so much other fun to be had beforehand? And besides, I wasn't going to risk any action that may forestall her loading up the rest of her pics from this series... if I didn't get to see Libby in that position -- compromised, submissive, in a word: fucked -- then I didn't know what I would do.

There was no need for concern though. Libby seemed just as keen for me to see the pics, as the next pic was loaded in record time. We simply sat there in silence, drinking in the shot with awe: there was Libby, underwear gone, shirt pushed rudely open and skirt hitched up high, as Glen bent low and laid his mouth upon her glorious, juicy snatch... but even in spite of that Libby managed to look to the camera, she looked right at me from beneath her heavy, pleasured lids... her head tipping back and her face frozen in a delectable expression of gasping pleasure as he went down on her...

"Damn this is getting me riled," I confessed, in a marvellously low, throaty quiver that surprised me.

"Kelly..." Libby whispered; I saw her own eyes were shut tight, she was almost grimacing with an obvious, overwhelming horniness of her own. "Kelly... I need to touch myself..." but she didn't do it -- she stopped herself, to ask me first, "...do you mind if I touch myself, while we sit here... together?"

"Go right ahead, Libs," I urged her, gently, understandingly; and with what was almost a whimper Libby's spare hand pulled up her dress, shortly revealing a white lacy pair of undies that she immediately stuffed her hand deep within, and we held hands as I watched on -- as she touched herself, eyes now opened and drinking in the picture she had surely seen a thousand times before, as she touched herself and let me see her do it.

"Ugh..." she grunted, in the most beguiling, feminine fashion possible. "Kells..." she whispered, "I love what we've done... I love what we've seen of each other, and shared together on Literotica... and, and I want to share it again with you now... I want to share it with you..."

And I knew what she meant. Instantly I knew and understood, and I clasped her non-clit-rubbing hand even firmer in reply, I also wrestled my dress up and I simply thrust my other hand deep within my own panties. And so we sat there and masturbated together, dresses hitched about our hips, touching ourselves roughly and deeply -- not touching each other so intimately, because we simply didn't need to do that; unspoken between us was the agreement that we were not there for that, it would have been nice but it was unnecessary, I had Tom to do that to me and Libby had anybody else she fancied (she had dumped Glen quite recently, and all glory to her for doing so), anybody else she wanted to do that to her, and so we simply did it to ourselves. Together.

To keep us on the boil, every now and again Libby would shortly release my hand to find the next pic in the series, which we went through without another spoken word between us beyond the occasional moan, groan, gasp, sigh or whimper. Her next pic had Libby pushing Glen down onto the bed -- the top of his head to camera, so thankfully we saw only very little of him -- and she was astride him, straddling his hips as she shrugged backwards out of her shirt, her glorious breasts dynamic and alive as she struggled out of her top. We lingered on this shot a short while, our pleasures building together as we held hands again, touching ourselves deeply, saying not a word, looking alternately from the photos to our hands delving deep inside our own knickers, deep inside ourselves...

The next picture had her lifting her skirt over her head, stripping herself naked in preparation for what lay ahead... 

and in the next, Libby was now bare and stark naked, still pinning the hapless Glen down on the bed with her legs, up in a half-crouch over him with her hands raised to push up her long, flowing golden-blond hair... 

her tits stood up to attention with her arms raised... 

the curves of her sides and hips stretched tall and glorious... 

and down below, her snatch stood clear and unfettered, hovering slightly over Glen's exposed and rather pitiful cock -- I smirked to see that the schmuck hardly had six inches to his name. Tom could beat Glen senseless with his own enormous cock; I unwittingly found myself mentally pasting an image of Tom's enormous cock in Glen's place...

But I shook my head to clear away those thoughts, focusing instead on Libby's part in the picture: now that she had her legs spread wide in the shot, Libby's pussy was stretched wide open, finally revealing to me the luscious, hot, glistening wetness of her sex. My eyes were torn between the amazing, hornifying, so-long-yearned-for sight of her rudely exposed cunt, and the look in her own eyes; her eyes held a piercing, raunchy gaze that threatened to lock me in, as she exposed herself for the camera, and for me...

Libby moaned loudly on seeing this picture, breaking the silence that had fallen with a thud on the bedroom. "Kelly..." she whispered. "I'm gunna come soon Kells... I'm going to start coming real soon..."

"Me too, Libs," I promised her, uttering not a scrap of a lie; my orgasm was building and pooling fast, and I kneeled up on the bed some more for better ease of getting at myself. "Keep those pics coming... by God you're so hot in those pics..."

"I know..." Libby moaned, ever so modest even in this situation. She loaded up the next picture in the series, and finally, finally it was there: Libby had descended onto Glen's cock and it was in her, and her face had lost the piercing gaze of her last shot -- now her eyes were closed, and her mouth opened again in gasping pleasure; I fixed my focus on the lips of her sweet, tight little pussy as they clasped about the shaft of Glen's pitiful little member -- small though it was, Libby's cunt was tight enough that his cock could still make her lips stretch and bulge about his shaft, and it was clear to see that she was tight enough to feel him -- to feel his cock inside her. We flicked between this pic and the last, creating a stop-frame animation of her riding him: on and off, on and off, up and down, thrusting herself onto and impaling herself on the cock again and again...

...and we started to come. Libby's moans grew into cries and screams, and I matched her, the knowledge that she was coming -- coming to orgasm, right next to me, almost right on top of me as we held hands and touched ourselves together -- seeing and hearing Libby come pushed me over the brink, and my orgasm breached and began to grow, pulling louder and louder cries out of me even as we kept working at ourselves, working at the same time, working together...

Having come to orgasm already, Libby skipped a few shots to get to the last one in the series. "Oh Kelly, get ready, get readyyyy..." she warned. Even as I kept myself coming I tried to brace myself for whatever more there possibly was to see, but I simply wasn't prepared for the last shot that she had for me: it was Libby, crouching about-face from the camera, down on all fours; her cunt was wide open and right before the camera, and the woman was covered in come.

All around her glorious, glistening pussy, all about her puckering asshole too, and dribbling out from that beautiful cunt of hers was Glen's sticky white essence, mixed in with her own heady flowing juices; and she managed to twist around and look around her own arse back at the camera -- looking back at me, inviting me to look upon the unbelievably pornographic image that she presented, of the mind-blowing clit-teasing mound-quivering shot of her incredible cunt covered in spunk.

It did it for me -- I came again, I hadn't even finished coming the first time but I started coming with a new and never-before-felt vigour; I simply fell backwards over myself and I came, howling and yelling as I fingered and fucked myself without mercy. I tore my underwear off and kicked them away, totally exposed now before Libby's very own eyes, and she stared wide-eyed and unblinking as she took in the sight of my bare-naked cunt chock-full of my fingers and she came again too, she yowled and hollered and tore off her own underwear and she came over to me, she swung a leg over me and crouched over me, over my body similar to how she had rode over Glen in her photos... and she never stopped touching herself, she fingered and rubbed and plunged into herself, bucking hard and wild against her own hand as she totally lost control and came, she came over me, her juices dripped down onto my exposed belly and she let me see the whole thing, she let me watch it, she let me watch her come.

We stayed that way for an eternity, me prostrate on the bed, her kneeling over me, both of us coming with an incredible wild abandon... but still we did not touch, we did not connect, we merely showed ourselves to each other and touched ourselves, watching the other but not touching the other. I knew it then, I knew it for sure: this wasn't a homosexual thing, or strictly a thing that arose out of a homosexual attraction for each other; this was something other, something else. It was a mutual appreciation of porn -- pure and simple. We were hooked on porn, we were hopeless gibbering porno addicts, sharing in our addiction and losing control together and showing each other pornographic things to heighten our masturbating pleasure. It was such a relief to come to this realisation, even as I continued to come, and come, and come some more...

With a final shriek and a sigh, Libby's pleasure abated, and so too did mine run its course. Libby and I simply crouched and lay, respectively, shuddering and gasping, revelling in the headiness of what we had just done; Libby's head had been tipped back as she had stared at the ceiling, still hovering over me, but now she looked down at me with a smile. "Wasn't... that... fucking... awesome?" she breathed.

"I'll say," I agreed. "Libby -- you came all over me! There's a puddle of your juices on my tummy!"

"Oh my god..." she giggled, looking down to see where her hot, sweet juices had filled my navel to overflowing, little streams of it starting to trickle stickily down my sides. "I hadn't quite meant to do that..." she murmured, even as she stared at it. "I don't usually gush that much..."

"Don't worry about it," I told her as I sat up a little. still beneath her crouching, exposed cunt. "It only added to the hotness -- I've never come like that before, never."

"Me neither..." Libby looked at me, with a warm, reserved smile; I returned it with change, beaming as my worries had all fallen away and I knew now where we stood. Libby eventually swung a delicious leg over me and released me, and we stood and rearranged our dresses in a more demure fashion -- still swapping warm, knowing looks even as we did so.

"Well I don't know about you," said Libby, "but I'm in a mood to get back into your thread -- we've seen a bunch of pics of me, now I wanna see yours again."

"Go for it," I invited. "Why don't we take the computer down to the pool, have some more drinks? That thing's got a wireless modem," I added, nodding at the laptop. "We can take it anywhere -- all over the house, down into the paddocks..."

"Back to the pool then," Libby agreed. And so we swanned back down to the patio by the pool, returning to our seats; I picked up my half-finished cocktail and took a good long swig, my head already light and flighty from the action in the bedroom. I wasn't going to forget that little encounter in a hurry, and that was for damn sure.

"I'm sorry, Kelly," Libby began, unexpectedly. "I appear to have hijacked your thread..."

"Eh?" I frowned.

"That shot I stuck up of my pussy, after you and Tom did your strip tease -- that's the first time I ever put up a shot of my pussy on the public boards," she realised. "All my fans have flooded your thread, going bananas over me."

"That's okay," I told her. "Half of your fans are my fans too. Doesn't bother me."

"You know..." she said, and something in her voice made me look up -- she had a bit of a wicked spark in her eye. "One of these guys has had a really good idea..."

"Yes...?" I prodded, matching her growing grin.

"He suggested that you and I get together and do a joint strip-tease," she reported.

"Sounds like a fucking awesome idea to me..." said I. 



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 05



Having met at my place for drinks, and having discussed our pictures on the Amateur Photography threads at Literotica, and ending up masturbating next to (and on top of) each other while looking at pics of Libby going hard-core with her former boyfriend, Libby and I were now down by the pool mulling over a new idea. 

"You know..." she had said; she had been reading through the comments posted in my Amateur Photography thread on Literotica, and something in her voice made me look up to see a bit of a wicked spark in her eye. "One of these guys has had a really good idea..."

"Yes...?" I prodded, matching her growing grin.

"He suggested that you and I get together and do a joint strip-tease."

"Sounds like a fucking awesome idea to me."

So we sat by the pool with fresh drinks, nutting out a rough plan of attack. Libby had gone to her car to fetch her camera and equipment, which she had thought to bring "just in case". It turned out to be a very fancy set-up: an expensive digital SLR, a tripod with motorised attachments to turn and swivel, and -- most importantly -- a remote control operating both tripod and camera, all the better for taking saucy self-portraits. 

"It saves a lot of time," she explained, waggling the remote. "No need to run back-and-forth to the camera to set the auto-timer. And you can plug it in to your laptop while you're taking pics, review them straight away."

"Wow," I observed, a little unsteadily: the combined effects of a lot of alcohol and a recent series of self-administered orgasms were taking their toll. "It's as if they designed it for sexy self-portraiture!"

"Took me forever to find a camera like this," said Libby, with a wink. "Eventually I just walked into an electronics store, told the sales-guy exactly what I wanted the camera for, and he suggested this very model. He even gave me a hundred bucks off the price!" she added, with a naughty glint in her eye that added volumes to her tale.

I didn't miss the glint. "Libby..." I warned. "Don't tell me you did wicked things to the poor salesman to earn your discount?"

"No no -- all I did was give him the address for my thread on literotica," Libby demurred, with a grin. "I was tempted to offer him a blowjob, to score another couple hundred bucks off... but he had other customers to tend to."

"I dare say he would have gladly sacrificed their business for your 'discount'," I vouchsafed, grinning around my cocktail glass.

Libby laughed, as she finished setting up the camera and laptop. "Okay then: here's our backdrop," she announced. 

I got up to see the screen: she had lined up the camera and adjusted the lens to take in a wide shot of the forecourt, with the pool shimmering aqua-green in the middle-ground under the evening lights and our leafy waterfall tumbling into the back of the pool in the background. "I've seen this before..." I reckoned. "I know: it's the backdrop from the scene where Neve Campbell and Denise Richards groped each other in 'Wild Things'!"

Libby took in the view on the screen, and she laughed again. "Holy shit -- so it is!" she realised; as she did I could see thoughts and ideas forming behind her eyes, and she turned to me with a smoky, sultry look indeed. "Say, Kelly..." she began. "Do you want to take it that far?"

"That far? What -- you and I, groping each other?" I checked.

She nodded, the smokiness in her eyes increasing by a factor of ten.

I knew my answer, but I wanted to know hers. "Do you??" I quizzed, with a grin all the same.

Again, she said nothing, a simple shrug sufficient in her response.

I was mildly surprised at that, but not overly so -- so Libby wasn't averse to a grope of my goodies, eh? "Well, I'd rather we didn't go that far," I had to admit. "It might be fun -- in fact, I'm sure it would be fun -- but I don't want to be unfaithful to my Tom. He's my husband, I love him and I don't ever want to see him groping another woman. So I don't think I should set a precedent."

Libby seemed to find the answer acceptable. "So how far will we go?" she asked, keen to set the ground rules.

"Well, not that far," I stated. "We'll see as we go... but not as far as groping."

"Okay, I'll put my suggestions to you before I do them," Libby promised me. "Well then: let's get into it, shall we? Give the punters what they want?"

"Let's shall," said I, and we both took our places before the camera, lining up in the shot with the scene on the laptop for reference. "A few poses fully-clothed, to begin?"

"That's my girl," Libby nodded, with approval. "Always start slow and steady. You've learned well."

"I was taught by the Master," I winked. And so we posed before the camera, a few feet of clear air between us as we pointed ourselves at the camera from various angles; Libby snapped a number of pictures by remote, setting a timer so she had time to hide the remote out of shot before the flash went off. We paused to wander over and check the results on the laptop: the pictures looked very good indeed, the scenes well-lit, my longish black dress with nice cleavage contrasting nicely against the jade-coloured iridescence of the pool and against Libby's short, strapless, tight-fitting white dress on the other side of the shots.

"Okay then," said Libby, as we agreed the pics were acceptable and wandered back to our positions to continue the series. "Now I'm trying to think like one of our fans, thinking what they'd most like to see... and I'm sure the next step in the series would be, for us to undress each other."

"Makes sense to me," I beamed. "We'll take it nice and slow, okay?"

"We will," Libby promised. "We'll undress each other slowly, piece by piece, buckle and zipper by buckle and zipper."

And so we moseyed over to each other, to stand closer together; Libby took both my hands and squeezed them tightly, and we decided to take a picture just like that, noting on the laptop that it looked really nice -- our friendship was clear to see in the pose, two BFFs standing near, warm and lovely.

"Okay," said Libby, in an uncharacteristically soft, beguiling voice. "You turn around... and I'll start to unzip you."

My heart was suddenly fluttery and flighty, skipping every other beat as I followed her instruction. I heard Libby step closer behind me, and heard the camera's lens whirring as she zoomed in via the remote, framing the scene on the laptop screen. Suddenly I felt Libby's palms -- hot and light -- placed gently on my back, just above each shoulder-blade; and then the camera's flash went off. Looking to the laptop I saw the picture playback: it was a beautiful shot, sultry in its simplicity, with Libby standing ever so close behind me with her hands like so on my back -- and we both had our heads bowed forwards and our eyes closed, sharing in the bliss of the moment.

"That's a nice shot," I murmured.

"It is," Libby agreed. "It only just occurred to me to take that shot; spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Turned out well. Now..." she breathed, and I could feel the heat of her breath on the back of my neck, making my hairs stand tall and quiver deliciously. "I'm going to start unzipping you."

"Okay then..." I murmured, rather more tremulously than I would have preferred. Libby squeezed me on the arm, gently, reassuringly -- and then her fingers were at the zipper on my back, up high at my neck, and the zip started coming down... slowly... so slowly... and FLASH! went the camera.

"Mmm hmm," she noted approvingly, as we reviewed the shot -- most alluring, with the bare flesh of my upper back and my bra strap peeping through the unzipped gap, helping to advertise what was going on. "This time, angle your back just a tiny bit more towards the camera..."

"Like this?"

"Uh huh..." and the zipper came down more, slowly again, tantalisingly so, the flash coinciding this time with the zipper reaching the bottom of the track just below the beltline of my knickers. This pic came up even better, with the dress folding outwards very nicely, exposing yet more of my back, bra and a hint of my black lacy underwear -- and Libby standing back slightly, both to admire the view and to allow the camera an unfettered angle.

"Methinks it's my turn now," I declared, rounding on Libby with an enormous grin.

Libby smiled, but she didn't yet turn away, staying to look at me for a moment. "Kelly: I love that we're doing this," she told me. "This is so much fun... I'm so happy that you and I can share this together."

"Me too, Libs," I assured her. A hug was on the cards, and so we did just that: I held her tightly and she did the same, our bodies and bosoms pressed thrillingly together. She ran her fingertips up and down my bare back as she held me, provoking a marvellous tremor that ran full-length up and down my body... and then the flash went off!

"Libs!" I berated, rearing back to regard her with a shocked grin.

"Couldn't resist," she smiled, with a wink. "Came up nice, too," she added, nodding to the laptop.

It did look very nice, but I didn't want to let her off the hook. "Turn around, please," I ordered, with pretend rebuke; she saw through my playful chiding tone, but she turned all the same, and as she reset the frame to suit our new pose I laid one hand in the small of her back -- provoking a sharp intake of breath on her part, making more of her breasts rise tantalisingly up and out of her dress. I clasped her own zipper between two fingers of my other hand, and as she started the timer I began to unzip her; much as she had done with mine, I let her zip fall slowly, gradually unveiling more and more of her lovely, warm, smooth, honey-toned skin, timing the descent so that the flash went off when we were half-way.

Noting that it was another good pic, I let the zip go all the way down to the bottom of its track; her dress was so tight it wasn't showing off much of her bare back at all, so I let my hands slip palms-forward, fingers-up into her dress, up beneath her shoulder-blades, and I ran them outwards across her back to splay the dress more open. The contact of my hands, tucked into her dress upon her hot bare skin, roused a noticeable shiver in Libby too; and after the flash had gone off, she turned a little to catch my eye, seeing that I had noticed her reaction and flashing me a quick little smile of admission.

"Okay," she said, rounding on me again. "Now I'd say it's time for me to slip your dress off...?" and she phrased it as a question, a request.

"I'd say you're right," I confirmed, and we set ourselves up to face each other. 

For the first pic, Libby slipped her fingers beneath the shoulder-straps, and was in the process of slipping them off my shoulders and down my upper arms as the flash went off: the laptop showed my shoulders bared demurely and alluringly, with Libby frozen in the act of undressing me.

Next, Libby adjusted her hold on my dress's straps, and pulled it down slowly, very slowly. I realised there was little point in undressing each other so slowly; whether she pulled my dress down slow or simply reefed it down and held it in position for each shot, it would come across the same in the pictures. In seeing this, I also realised that Libby was undressing me slowly for her own amusement, her own gratification. I saw that her breasts were rising and falling very noticeably now, she was breathing hard, hot and heavy as she undressed me, slowly, tantalisingly, so very closely...

The flash went off, and we checked the laptop. The dress had paused at the crest of my breasts, showing off a lot of bra and bosom but not the whole lot, thus making the shot ever-more alluring; and the camera had caught us grinning as we faced each other: grinning knowingly, warmly as we shared in the delightful wickedness of the situation. We would have to crop our faces out of the picture later on, for safety's sake, but not all of our faces -- we could safely leave our smiles in the shot, cut off the tops of our heads to prevent unwanted identification yet still convey the warmth of the moment for all to enjoy.

Without a word, Libby let go of my shoulder straps and reached in to grab my dress by the body, her fingers lightly brushing my breasts as she gained a hold and slipped it down; it clung to the underside of my bosom for just a moment, slipping along the underside of my bra with her fingers tucked in between, and I could feel the heat of her skin on my breasts through the material of my bra -- thrilling me greatly. Thrilling the both of us greatly, I am sure.

As the dress descended, slowly, inevitably, the camera kept going off: 

with the dress pushed down almost as far as my navel, my bra and breasts now freed...

pushed down just slightly beyond the waistline of my knickers, revealing my full upper torso now...

pushed almost all the way down, half-way down my thighs, wrapped into a silky black belt of material...

and finally, fallen to the floor, Libby having let the dress fall away from my legs and having stepped in close, very near, the tips of her breasts barely touching the tips of mine, her hands resting gently and arousingly on the fronts of her own thighs.

"Kelly..." she whispered when the shot was done. "I am so hot right now..."

"Me too," I admitted, doubtless with a gloriously dirty gleam in my eye. "But: no rest for the wicked," I went on, denying her the chance to dwell too long upon our mutual heat. "It's my turn to undress you," I reminded her.

"Well, you see now," she began, and in her eye I saw the cheek of her argument before she lent it voice. "Seeing as I'm not wearing a bra... perhaps we should take your bra off first?"

"Nuh uh," I decreed. "If anyone's going to get their tits out first, it's gunna be 'Libya's Finest'. Not me; not 'misstralia', the also-ran, Johnny-come-lately understudy."

"Fine," she pouted, in a joking fashion. "How shall we do it: me facing you, or with my back to you?"

I considered it quickly. "Your back to me," I decided. "And I'll lift your dress up from the bottom, so your boobs come out last. Okay?"

"Okay!" she said brightly, and she turned her back on me, eagerly and trustingly.

For the first shot I decided to slip my fingers into the back of her dress again, running them up and down, tracing tenderly over her tender skin. Looking over her shoulder as I did it, I watched with amused fascination as, in a matter of seconds, her nipples perked up and poked hard through her tight white dress; it also made her unwittingly draw her shoulders slightly back, pooching her breasts out for even greater effect.

"May I make a suggestion?" she spoke up after the flash, as I stepped in even nearer, reaching for the bottom hem of her dress.

"By all means, Libby."

"Hold me," she suggested, softly, most invitingly. "Before you undress me: just hold me close. Hold me tight, from behind."

Oh, how I loved the sound of that; but I realised it was 'borderline' in regards to how much I wanted to do with Libby tonight. Tempted though I was to touch her all over, touch her lovely soft breasts, feel her delicious hot moisture, plunge my fingers deep into her personal depths... I wouldn't do it. I was determined not to do it; maybe to get close, as close as possible, but not actually do it. If I didn't want Tom to touch another woman in too personal a fashion, then I mustn't do it either. All the same: a simple hug from behind was innocent enough... barring the fact I had been stripped down to my underwear... 

All I said to Libby's suggestion was, "Okay..." and I stepped right in, right into her space, and I pressed myself against her back and wrapped my arms about her stomach to hold her in tight.

"Yeah..." she said, but her hands found mine. "But put your hands... here..." and she gently guided my hands down, unwrapping my arms from round her waist and running them down to the tops of her thighs, and the flash went off like that: me holding her close, hugging her tight from behind, her pressing back into me with her hands holding my hands upon the fronts of her thighs: right up high, with my thumbs resting gently against the lower periphery of her pelvis, tantalisingly close to her money-maker.

"That's a nice shot," I observed, looking to the laptop.

"It was a nice feeling too..." Libby breathed. "I'm really loving it when we hold each other, Kells."

"We'll have to do more of it, then!" I cheered -- even with my determination to behave, I was rather enjoying our closeness too. "Now, let's get back to the pose: gotta get that dress off," I declared, firmly.

Back in our pose, with Libby's back close against my front, me stripped of my dress and in only my black bra, black knickers and black high-heeled shoes, I now had my fingers hooked just a little way under the bottom hem of her dress -- FLASH. 

Next, I was slowly, gently pulling her dress up, riding it up just far enough against my own crotch to reveal at her front: a tiny white triangle of her knickers framed by the dress and her inner thighs -- FLASH.

And next: the dress was hooched up ever higher, with a clear gap of delicious bare skin between the furled-up rolls of her dress-bottom and the waist of her panties. My fingers had let go of her dress and were wrapped about the upper-sides of her thighs, splayed alluringly as I pulled her shapely bottom hard against my own crotch; and as the FLASH went off again, I dared to imagine that -- with nought but our knickers between us -- that Libby could feel the heat and the moisture gathering in my crotch through the material, she could feel my wet heat pressing hard against her delectable buttocks...

And she could: holding her so, I heard her moan, and she laid her head back to rest gently against my shoulder. "Oh Kelly..." she breathed, and in that simple exhalation I could hear a wealth of unspoken thoughts: 'oh Kelly, do it to me... hold me close, pull me near, that's right... oh Kelly, take me, take me and do what you will to me... I'm yours, Kelly,' I could hear her, see her think. 'I'm yours...'

But I took no action; my resolve held. I controlled my forbidden, hesitating desires and simply continued as before, pulling her dress ever-higher, bunching it beneath her breasts to expose ever-more of her lower body. "Take the next shot..." I suggested, as I resumed my grip about her upper thighs ever-tighter, pressing her ever-harder into my heat and wetness (and perhaps grinding it a little into her buttocks, if only a little); I let my fingers wander further across her slim, muscular thighs, just a little further towards her own centre, and even at that distance my fingertips could feel her own heat burning and radiating ever-so-hotly from within...

Libby responded to my teasing, tantalising touch with a moan of delighted, delectable frustration, even as she used the remote to take the shot as instructed. I didn't bother to look at the laptop this time as I knew instinctively that it would be a corker, an absolute bombshell of a shot: Libby's head resting back against my shoulder; her dress bunched up beneath her breasts, the curves of her body and the delicate white laciness of her knickers fully exposed; and my hands, creeping across the fronts of her thighs, so close to that which I did-yet-didn't want to touch, so close, oh so close...

With some reluctance, I had to pull my hands away from her heat and move my crotch slightly away from her arse now, to gain the best angle for raising her dress over her head. She pointed her arms at the night sky without my bidding; with a grin, I unfurled the dress up her arms and over her head, leaving the lower edge draped barely beneath her breasts -- not yet exposing them, surely to the aching chagrin of those who would later come to see these pics.

After the flash went off, I leaned in close to whisper through the dress into Libby's ear: "It's time to get the guns out, Libs..."




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 05



"Take it off," Libby begged. "Please: take it off, get my tits out Kelly, take my tits out..."

I pulled the dress up and off, and there were her breasts, sitting easy, gently and free upon her chest and exposed to the world. The sudden rush of cool evening air upon her bared breasts hit Libby like the proverbial tonne of bricks, and she was suddenly frozen: mouth open, head tipped back, eyes shut tight. I gently guided her to step around, to face the camera front-on with me standing behind; I slipped the remote out of her frozen hand to take the picture just so, with her face frozen, seemingly on the brink of an orgasm. I knew I shouldn't, I knew I said I wouldn't, we wouldn't, but I simply had to tip her over the brink...

...so I quickly reset the remote timer, reached up and grabbed her by the breasts.

And she came. A gust of steamy breath spilled out of her mouth into the cool evening air and she came with a quivering, exhaling burst of surprised noise; and as I massaged and kneaded her breasts gently, knowing from my own experience what felt good and what felt great, I kept her coming until the camera went off, catching her face in the open-mouthed gasp of a surprised orgasm.

"...Kelly!" she finally cried as I stopped massaging her boobs, cupping them gently as I let her recover. "I thought... I thought you said no groping...?"

"Well, yeah," I allowed, with a wicked grin indicating no regrets whatsoever.

"You made me come," Libby realised. "Kelly: you touched me, and you made me come; I was so close, you only had to touch my tits and I came..."

"Well..." I said. "I could tell you were that close -- so I decided to do you a little favour. Just coz I love you."

With her tits still resting gently in my hands, she turned to catch my eye. "Thank you," she said, with a warm smile. "Thank you for that... and I look forward to returning the favour," she added, with sultry optimism.

"That was just another 'spur of the moment' thing," I demurred. "No need to repay me, Libs... but thanks for the offer."

She looked a bit disappointed, but she must also have realised that I didn't exactly tell her she could never touch me -- there was simply no need. "Okay then..." she said, and we got back into it.

With Libby's dress gone and her tits out, the next step in the sequence was to reduce me to a similar state of undress. So we swapped positions, Libby taking up station behind me; she reclaimed the remote from me, set it on the ground and activated the timer with her toes. And then in one movement she stepped in behind me, pressed her bare naked breasts against the mostly-bared skin of my back, and tucked her fingertips up beneath the lower edge of my bra. 

In an involuntary reaction I inhaled deeply with delicious surprise, making my breasts stand out, large and proud; the exquisite sensation of breasts on my back -- Libby's breasts pressed hard against my back -- was incredible, the warmth and softness of her skin immediate and sensational against my own back, the aroused erection of her nipples clear and obvious as they poked hard against me...

"Do you like that?" Libby murmured, with delicious restraint, as we waited for the flash to go off.

"Uh huh..." was all I could manage. My eyes had closed with a marvellous contentment and bliss; finally though my lids I saw the flash, but even after it had gone off, Libby did not move away, staying pressed hard and near.

"I love being so close to you, Kells," Libby whispered to me, tucking her chin in over my shoulder to breath it directly into my ear. "I love when we touch like this... "

There was nothing I could say to that; I felt Libby's fingers slip out from under my bra and slide easily and gracefully down over my stomach, to land easily about my hips, and I felt Libby move slightly to nudge the remote on the ground with her toe to set the timer again.

"I've never enjoyed being so close to anyone as much as this, Kells..." she went on, with my full and undivided attention. "Kelly: I'm not gay, but... but I love you, Kelly," she told me, softly and seriously. "I love you, and..."

The flash went off again, capturing the moment: Libby still with her bared body and breasts hard against my back, my face frozen with incredible delight and astonishment, Libby whispering delicious little confessions into my ear...

"...and I will do anything for you, Kelly," she continued, her hands slipping lower now -- not to my pussy (thankfully -- if she had touched me there I surely would have melted), but instead a tiny bit lower, cupping over the front-inners of my thighs, her hot little palms against my tingling bare legs, her thumbs and forefingers pressing hard against the lacy black edges of my panties... driving me into an unbearable, writhing mini-fit of incredible, brinking pleasure...

"...I will do anything for you, Kelly," she repeated, prodding the remote yet again with her toe to set the timer. "I'll do whatever you ask of me... whatever you ask... but," she added, "only if you ask me for it. Only if you ask."

'Damn you,' I thought, not saying a thing. 'Damn you. Of course you'll leave it to me... of course you won't go ahead and touch me, you won't simply take me and touch me and make me come, dammit... of course it's up to me.'

Oh how I wanted it. I had never wanted anything so bad in my entire life. This long, slow, delicious strip-tease, building ever-higher, ever-closer: it had me teetering on the edge of perhaps the most enormous orgasm I would ever know. All she had to do was touch me -- simply brush her delicate fingers over my spot, through my panties -- and I would come with the thunder. But she left it to me... she left it to me to say...

"Ughhhh," I groaned, with boundless desire and frustration. "I can't," I moaned. "I can't do it... I just can't do it to Tom..."

The flash went off, and in the corner of my eye I saw Libby smile. "I know," she agreed.

"Oh but I want to, Libby," I promised her. "I really, really want to... more than you could ever know..."

I saw her take heart, her optimism lifting again. "Tell me what to do..." Libby whispered, beggingly, imploringly. "Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it... please Kelly, tell me what you want me to do..."

I squeezed my eyes tight, little tears of absolute frustration pricking against my lids. "I want you..." I whispered, the incredible forbidden pleasure of the situation making me press hard back into her, grinding and writhing back into her soft warm semi-naked embrace... "I want you to..."

"Yes..." Libby murmured, her hands moving slightly, her fingers crossing the threshold, wandering incrementally across my panties, bare millimetres away from my burning hot centre... "Yes...?"

I groaned again, even as the camera flashed again. "I want you to take off my bra," I told her, finding myself grinning as I bested my temptation and denied myself the forbidden.

I turned my head slightly, to see Libby grinning too. "God you're strong, Kells," she told me, admiration clear in her voice. "You are so strong. If our roles had been reversed... if you had put the question to me..."

"I know," I said, sparing her the trouble of confessing it.

"I love you for it, too, Kelly," she told me. "You're the strongest girl I know." She moved her hands away from the danger-zone of my pelvis and wrapped her arms around my torso, to hug me warmly. 

"Love you too, Libs." I wrapped my arms in turn about hers, and we held each other thusly: warm and with friendship, even in spite of her bare breasts on my bare back, triumphal over the temptation to which we both had nearly succumbed; Libby decided to take a picture of that too, and we saw on the laptop that it was the most beautiful, warm and loving shot yet.

"Okay: time to get this bra off!" Libby declared; she stepped back, finally getting her tits off my back, and in a flash she had the hooks undone. We paused for a picture, her holding the undone straps back and away -- a small step towards the long-awaited unveiling of my bosom.

Next, Libby took a half-step back towards me, pushing the straps forward and down my arms, leaving the cups resting precariously upon my breasts; and the flash went off. Next -- and with mutual delight -- Libby let the bra fall away and my breasts were free, out and uncovered; I grabbed her hands and pushed them onto my breasts, making her gather them up and squeeze them together, earning a delighted little squeal from Libby in the process; and the flash went off again, and then again as we let my breasts fall free and uncovered for the benefit of our many fans... and they were all in for a hell of a show indeed.

"Alright then," she said as I turned to face her, my tits bared and facing her own. "Time to get rid of our knickers now!"

"Let's do it together," I suggested, keen to have us both totally naked. "Let's take each other's panties off at the same time."

"Righto!" said Libby, and we stepped in close, face-to-face, laying our hands upon each other's waistlines -- FLASH. Next, we reefed each others' panties lower, pulling the fronts down just a little, just above the pubic line -- FLASH. Next -- and with a mutual grin -- we hooked each others' panties down ever further, tucking them snug beneath our buttocks, and with unspoken accord we stepped right into each other: pressing my neatly-trimmed little bush hard against Libby's shaven mound, and pressing our tits hard against each others' -- FLASH.

"Damn," Libby quivered, as we stood so close together, pressed so hard, so intimately against the other as we let our panties fall to the ground, utterly naked. "You sure you can't be tempted...?" she tried.

"You know I'm tempted," I told her, looking into her eyes with a warm smile. "But we can be strong... we can be strong for Tom. Anyways: we'd best take this picture, I think..." I added; the closeness that Libby and I were enjoying was really getting to me: my best friend, stripped naked, hot and sexy and incredible and pressed hard against me... her tits on my tits... her nipples against my nipples... her hips against mine, our cunts so close together I was sure I could feel her moisture intermingling with mine as it ran down my legs... down our legs...

"Okay," she grinned, and she used the remote to take the shot. "Shall we end the series with, umm, 'something special'?" she suggested.

"What did you have in mind?" I smiled in reply.

"Can I tempt you with a kiss?"

She surely, most certainly could tempt me with a kiss. But still, as much as I wanted it, I still wanted to try to remain faithful to Tom... dammit... "Let's make it a 'stage kiss'," I suggested. "We'll tilt our heads and angle ourselves so that it looks like a kiss on camera, but we're not quite kissing, not actually."

"Do you trust me enough to do that?" Libby asked, her grin cranking up.

I matched her grin at the thought of it: Libby sneaking a kiss against my will, as we stood so close, so intimately... "We'll see if I can trust you," I told her.

"Okay..." she grinned, in (joking?) foreboding tones, and we arranged ourselves for the pose. We positioned our heads, tilting slightly about the neck so that our mouths were obscured from the camera; we wrapped our arms about each other, her resting one hand on the back of my neck and another cheekily upon my butt, and my arms wrapped tightly about her and my hands resting at her curves above her hips.

She toed the remote again, to set the timer, and there we stood; embracing with our bodies... our mouths smiling, hidden from the camera... peering at each other between our closed eyelids...

...and a second before the flash went off, she kissed me. I knew she would; her lips met mine, my lips parted and we kissed for real as the flash went off. Her tongue brushed mine and I offered no resistance; my resistance was gone, it fell away, I didn't want her to stop, I wanted it to happen; I knew I was doing more with Libby than I had allowed myself to do, but I couldn't stop. I wanted this. I wanted her kiss, I wanted her to kiss me and I wanted to kiss her and I couldn't stop, and so the kiss kept going, growing steamy as our hands moved to caress each other. I felt her toe the remote, to take another shot as we kissed; and another shot; and another...

My hands moved to her tits even before hers moved to mine, and I fondled her delicious, pert little bosom with arousal and appreciation, tickling her nipples to make them extra-hard even as she cupped my generous boobs with her own hands and did the same. I heard myself moan, encouraging, enticing, and she did the same; all the while taking picture after picture, flash after flash, as we grew hotter and wilder...

...and I felt one of her hands break free from my bosom, her fingers trailing down my stomach, down past my waist, down over my pelvis, down... down...

'...no...' I thought. 'No... gotta draw a line... not there, she can't have that... it's Tom's...!' 

...so I beat her to it: my own hand leapt southwards and my fingers landed upon my clit before hers, blocking her access, there being no more room for her fingers on my spot with my fingers there and our hips pressed so hard together. I felt her grin through her frustration, even as we kept on kissing each other; her hand diverted to land upon her own spot, and thus we started to come: touching ourselves, not touching the other, though the backs of our hands were pressed incredibly tightly together, squished and trapped between both of our pelvises as we ground into each other, mutually forcing the other to touch herself ever harder, ever rougher, with ever less mercy, as we started to yell, cry out and scream as our orgasms took control and destroyed any remaining inhibition.

We stood together that way for a little while longer; I knew now for sure our juices were intermingling, I could feel her juices running from her cunt along her fingers and onto my fingers, and vice versa as my juices gushed forth and transferred from my fingers to hers. Soon I could bear it no longer, and I stepped back: I wanted to see it. It was 'the show' that I wanted -- not to touch each other, fuck each other and make the other come, but to see Libby touching herself, watch her touch herself and make herself come... and also to show Libby as I touched myself and made myself come.

Libby understood, and we fell away from each other -- we fell to sit opposite each other, legs spread wide, one hand propping myself slightly off the ground as the other ground deeply into myself, while Libby simply sat back and did herself with both hands, spreading her lips wide so I could see her rude pink depths and her juices gushing forth, and I plied myself wide open so she too could see all of me, we saw all of each other and saw our juices dripping from our gushing wet slits to pool beneath us; and we came, we were already coming but we came some more, yelling now, hollering at each other as we stared wide-eyed at each other, even as the camera kept snapping away -- Libby must have set it to take a continuous series of shots as we masturbated in front of each other and for each other.

Finally, after an apparent eternity of our mutual performance, we were spent -- I collapsed backwards with one final cry and let myself wind down, touching myself slower, softer, plunging less and less deeply into my own depths, and Libby did the same. We both moaned and groaned as we lay back, naked on the cool sandstone tiles of the pool forecourt, naked in the warm evening air, naked as we touched ourselves and caressed ourselves and stared up at the moonless, star-lit night sky; eventually I heard Libby moving, felt Libby reaching for me, and I reached back to her and we held hands -- both of our hands slick with our own juices, and we greedily slopped our fingers amongst the other's to mix our juices together, mix them and intermingle them, and thus we lay for another eternity.

"...Kelly..." I eventually heard Libby say, her breathing still heavy and lumbering as she wound down, as we both wound down from our incredible mutual high. "Kelly... I'm sorry I tried to touch you down there..."

"Don't be," I smiled, as I turned to fix her in the eye. "It's okay."

"I just... I just totally lost control..." she tried to explain.

"I know," I told her again. "It's okay. I promise."

"I've got another confession, Kells..." she added.

'Here we go...' I thought, preparing myself for anything.

"One time -- without you knowing," she began, "I convinced Tom to drive me to a topless bar, up in the mountains... and on the way home," she went on, as I boggled at the thought of Libby putting in a shift at a topless bar, "on the way home we stopped... we sat in Tom's Porsche on the side of the road... and we stripped down and touched ourselves in front of each other."

"You..." I had to check; even as we stayed where we were, lying on our backs next to each other, holding hands slick with each others' intermingled juices, I had to be sure I understood her. "You and Tom... masturbated in front of each other?"

Libby nodded.

"You didn't touch each other?" I checked, a lump in my throat at the thought of it...

"No," she promised me, with an emphatic shake of the head. "No -- we never touched each other. Well, we held hands while we came," she corrected herself, "but I never touched his cock, Kells. And he never touched me down there, or up here. You've gotten closer to me tonight than he ever did," she reminded me.

I heaved a sigh of reaction and relief. "I'm glad, then," I declared. 

Libby took heart, and beamed at me. "But you and I, Kells, what we did together just now... wasn't that the hottest thing you've ever done?" she enquired of me, seeking affirmation of her own delight.

"Far and away: hottest thing ever," I confirmed. "Dunno about you, but I think I need a quick swim to help cool down."

"I'm all for it," Libby beamed, and we picked ourselves up long enough to drag our orgasm-weakened bodies over to the pool. We flopped into the water, and the sudden sharpness of the cool immersement took our breaths away, bringing revitalisation; Libby swam over to me and we wrapped ourselves up in another hugging embrace, full-length naked and all over each other as we simply hugged, sharing and celebrating in our love -- and partially re-enacting Neve and Denise's scene from 'Wild Things' after all.

The night went on at a deliciously slow pace, filled with many more orgasms. After our swim we adjourned to the nearest hot shower, where we soaped each other's bodies and -- invigorated by the warmth of the water -- we masturbated in front of each other again; then we returned to the laptop, taking it back to the bedroom where we trimmed, cropped and uploaded our photos to the net, touching ourselves as we reviewed the incredibly hot pictures and coming in front of each other again and again. 

But all the while, we refrained from touching each others' pussies; we soaped each other up from head to toe in the shower, and in the bedroom we crawled and writhed over each other, kissing and caressing each other most deliciously, but all the while we did not touch each other; we did not fuck each other; we drove each other to distraction but we did not make the other come. 

It was a very blurry line which I had drawn, to retain some modicum of faithfulness to Tom. We were kissing, yes, and we were caressing, yes; we were expressing our mutual affections physically, but we weren't actually having lesbian sex. My cunt was off-limits to her, it was the property of Tom, and likewise her delicious little cunt remained out-of-bounds to me. It probably doesn't make much sense, but Libby respected my boundaries all the same. It was what we had unspokenly decided would allow us to remain friends, without strictly becoming lovers, and it was right.




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 05



Once most of the photos were uploaded -- right up to before Libby and I were naked and kissing; those pictures were for us, for no-one else but us (and maybe Tom, one day, if he's lucky...) -- once the pics were up on Literotica and all our fans were gushing and screaming and making themselves come, all around the world, I looked to Libby.

"So you've done some work at a topless bar, eh?" I quizzed her.

She looked back at me and nodded, with a sheepish, naughty grin.

"Any chance you've still got their number?" I added, with a growing grin of my own.



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 06



Talk about a whirlwind couple of days... Hardly had I recovered from one of the longest, most head-spinningly awesome nights of my life -- where Libby and I met face-to-face after seeing each other naked on Literotica's amateur photography threads, reviewing a few hard-core shots of Libby getting fucked by her old boyfriend, posing together in front of the camera for a very 'up close and personal' dual strip-tease, and all the while masturbating in front of each other and coming and coming and coming -- after all of that, not even two days later I found myself driving my husband's luxury saloon out to the Berriga pub, with Libby in the front seat, en route to our new profession as topless waitresses!

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I said, for perhaps the hundredth time.

"Nervous?" asked Libby.

"That's putting it mildly," I assured her -- my heart was in my throat and pounding a-mile-a-minute, my palms were clammy as they gripped the wheel, and I felt a curious sort of queasy, giddy elation in anticipating our planned shenanigans.

"Well, let's try to get your mind off it for a little while," said Libby, kindly. "Tell me: how did Tom react when he saw our pics?" she added, with a wicked grin at the thought of it.

"He nearly blew his top," I informed her, with a grin of my own. "As soon as you went home, I messaged him and made him promise not to look at the pics until I could do it with him -- the next night, when I had put the kids to bed. He was impatient, but he waited... and we went over them together, we downloaded each pic one by one, and we went mad."

"Did you guys come?" Libby asked, obviously thrilled that she was able to ask me such a question these days -- it wasn't so long ago that we never would have dreamed of saying such a thing to each other.

"We both came, a whole bunch of times," said I, unabashed. "And that's really rare for Tom, usually he gives his all on the first blow and he has nothing left for the rest of the night... but last night, he came when he saw the pic where I was holding your tits; and then he came again when he got to the pic of us with our knickers pulled down and our pussies pushed together; and then he came again after we went through the pics we didn't publish: I emailed him the ones where you and I were kissing, and groping, and rubbing up against each other with our hands pressed together on our own pussies..."

"Mmm..." Libby murmured, and I looked over to see she was running her hands tenderly over her body -- over her breasts so perky and firm, her curves and hips so toned and delicious, and up and down her legs so long, silky and smooth -- while I recounted the tale. "And you came, while he came?" she added, as I realised she was getting off on picturing Tom and I, touching ourselves and making ourselves come as we looked at the pictures of Libby and I...

"We did come, every single time," I assured her, every word of it the truth.

Libby grinned at the thought of it... but she started to calm down, her hands wound down in their adventures and she let her pleasure abate.

"Settling down there?" I observed, with perhaps an ounce of disappointment in my voice -- I'd started to wonder if I was in for a show, nice and early.

"Yeah, I think I'll leave myself alone for now," Libby allowed. "Gotta save my energy for the coming fun!"

"Okay then. So tell me: exactly what is expected of us, in this topless-waitressing gig?"

"Your Tom explained it to me while he drove me there last time," she began, with a grin as she remembered the naughtiness she and my husband got up to last time she came this way. They didn't fuck, of course, but they came close to it, which had caused me some concern when I learned of it. But then, they didn't get as close to fucking as Libby and I had gone, only the night prior...

"So," Libby began, knocking me off my thoughts. "First and foremost: we're not whores. We're not being paid to suck cocks or get gang-banged or anything."

"Well I'm glad to hear that," I laughed -- that much I had assumed.

"We don't even have to dance, or shake our booties on a stage, or anything like that," she went on. "All we have to do is be waitresses: take drink orders, take their money to the bar, the bar staff serves us the drinks, we take the drinks and their change back to the customers... all the while, with our tits out and free."

"Okay then," I frowned. "Sounds pretty simple..."

Libby saw the look on my face, and must have guessed at my slight disappointment, figuring that I had somehow expected something more. "It's better than it sounds," she promised me. "I mean: it is all very laid-back and subtle, but that's the biggest thrill of it. All the guys are standing around, drinking, laughing, playing pool -- and there you are, in the middle of all these men, with your tits out and wearing almost nothing at all... and it's as if no-one has noticed!" she nearly squealed with glee. "You know they all know your tits are out, you know they're all staring at you when they think you can't see them, but when you walk up and talk to them it's like an unspoken agreement: 'yep, my tits are out, but hey: no biggie.' And that's what's so awesome about the whole thing!"

"Okay then, I think I see what you're getting at," I smiled, as we kept cruising through the autumnal evening towards our destination, cosseted in the leathery snugness of 'The Big Bruiser', as Tom likes to call his stately saloon. "It's all kind of 'on the sly'. It's not about being sleazy or a show-off. It's about a quiet, classy sort of show."

"Exactly, exactly!" Libby enthused. "But every now and again you might get a loud-mouthed loser, some wobbly drunken teenager who yells 'aww wow, check the tits on her!' But that sort of thing doesn't last long; if a dickhead like that starts acting up, everyone gives him the evil eye, and if he doesn't settle down a couple of heavy-hitters will pick him up and take him outside."

"So it's a rough pub, then?"

"Yeah, pretty rough..." she allowed. "And the later it gets, the rougher it gets. But that's just a few of them, a really small percentage, the rest are surprisingly gentleman-like. Most of them are old and ugly, but nice to talk to, very well-behaved. I've had trouble before with a few former patrons but it's all sorted out now, they're banned from the titty nights. It helps to have Agnes there, too."

"Agnes...?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"The publican," Libby smiled. "Rough old bird, but tough on the louts. We'll be perfectly safe up there, don't you worry."

"So how many times have you done 'Tits-Out Thursday' at the Berriga Pub, Libs?" I quizzed her. "Just the one, when you came up with Tom... or have you done more?"

Libby wouldn't answer me; she just smiled with a surprisingly good approximation of enigma, looking out the window to watch the forestry flitting past and to avoid my eye.

And so the rest of the trip passed quickly and easily, as we both went quiet and dwelled on the task ahead. For the drive over the mountains I had dressed normally and sedately with my sexy-wear packed safely in a bag, thinking it best not to attract too much attention while making our way from the car into the pub. But Libby had clearly thought otherwise: she was already dressed in an incredibly short, belt-like black mini-skirt, with killer high heels and a sheer black sleeveless top to suit. The top she wore braless, what with her tits looking fulsome and fine even without the support, and the cool mountain air filtering into the car's cabin had her nipples standing hard and proud through the thin, stretchy material -- as though her top had been painted directly upon her skin. I definitely had one eye on the road and the other eye on her during that trip; very easy on the eye, our Libby.

We finally got to the pub, and even at this early stage of the evening -- a good twenty minutes before the fun was due to begin -- the car park was quite full with battered old trucks and rusty four-by-fours. "Tits-Out Thursday brings them in from miles around," I observed, as I manoeuvred The Bruiser through the aisles, barely a whisper coming from the engine.

We found a spot and stepped out of the car. I'd hardly had enough time to hope and pray for a discreet entry, when a couple of grizzled 'regulars' in the car park spotted us and instantly cried out: "Libby!!"

"Hello boys," she replied, in a warm yet demure tone.

"Cripes almighty, but it's been a while!" one of them declared. "Great to see ya, Libs!"

"And who's yer friend?" the other one gargled around half-a-mouthful of teeth. 

"This is my best friend Kelly," Libby told them, wrapping a possessive arm about my shoulders.

"Will she be workin' tonight, too?"

"Only if you're lucky..." said Libby, ever-ready with the answers. The guys cackled with optimistic glee, looking me up and down in a most appraising fashion; Libby bade them farewell, steering me towards a back-door entry to the pub.

"On a first-name-basis with the regulars, are we?" I observed.

"They must have pretty good memories up here," Libby grinned, still avoiding any talk of her previous visit(s?) to the pub. "Anyways: this is our 'office'," she added, steering me into a dank little bathroom with 'STAFF ONLY' written upon the door. "We can leave our stuff here safely, Agnes has cut me a key."

"And where do you keep the key while you're working, Libby?" I quizzed her, noting an absence of pockets on her costume.

"I keep it in the toe of my shoe, Kelly," she answered, grinning cheekily at the thought of the deeply personal place she might otherwise have secreted it.

We passed the time getting ready. Libby didn't have much work to do, only needing to peel her top off to expose those wondrous breasts of hers, touch-up her makeup and apply some perfume. I had a bit more to do, stripping naked out of my clothes and slipping into the sexiest items I'd had lying about my bedroom, consisting of a red satin g-string down below, a white-collar-and-bow-tie about my neck, and nothing in between. "How does this look?" I asked of her.

She paused in her heavy application of garish blue eye shadow to check me out. "Mmm," she approved, her eyes lingering on my large bared breasts; I did a little spin to let her check out my buttocks, bared cheekily by the g-string. "That's very, very nice," she assured me. "The boys are gunna drool over you tonight! Did you bring a second outfit, to change into at half-time?" she added.

"Yep, just like you suggested," I confirmed: it was in my bag and I brought it out, consisting of an extremely thin white lacy g-string -- so thin it was as if I would be wearing nothing at all -- which I planned to match to a gold necklace, tits-free again. Sure, there wasn't much to it, but hey: it was Tits-Out Thursday, after all!

"Very good," Libby approved. She was nearly ready, so I worked to catch up with her, applying my makeup with trembling hands -- the nerves were starting to mount now, I was extremely nervous and getting worse by the minute as I started second-guessing my daring intentions.

What was I doing here? Was I insane? It was as if I hadn't really thought about what was required of me tonight: I had to step out into a bar filled with a hundred leering men, with my tits out for all of them to see, wearing barely a scrap to maintain the barest modicum of modesty... and all the while, I was expected to 'act natural', as though it wasn't really happening? Exactly what the fuck was I thinking when I agreed to do this?

The nerves must have been building for Libby too -- all of a sudden she let out a huff of a sigh, though she made it sound brisk and excited. "Well: I'm ready! Let's do it!" she declared.

"Hang on, hang on -- still haven't finished my eye shadow," I grumbled. "My hands are shaking so much I can barely do it... I'm scared, Libby," I told her. "I'm not sure I can do this."

"Give it here," Libby kindly instructed, and as I turned to face her I handed her my eye shadow brush; she took it and stepped in near to me, very near, our bared tits almost touching as she worked to finish my makeup for me.

"How do you do this, Libby?" I whispered to her, now gripped with the added excitement of standing so close, and so naked, to Libby -- we had been this close and this naked before, even closer and more naked in fact, but the thrill still delighted me beyond belief... "How do you do it?" I went on. "Strutting around in almost nothing at all, in front of so many people..."

"It's the best fun, Kells," she promised me. "I look at it like this: we've already strutted our stuff in front of thousands of people, on the Amateur Photography boards at Literotica; just think of this as a logical step forward, just a step above what we've already done."

"Yeah, but this is so different," said I. "On the computer, you just put your photo up and somebody half-way round the world clicks to download it... but here, I mean, the people are right here. Right in my face. You know?"

"I know," Libby nodded, smiling kindly. "I know how you feel. Hell, I have done this more than once," she finally admitted, "but I still feel it. You get nervous as fuck, beforehand; but once you're out there, your tits are out and they can all see you, and you can see them... you just get into the mix and start having fun. It all goes away, all the nerves and the fear, and you'll have the time of your life. I promise you, Kells: it'll be great."

"Thanks, Libs." Having finished my makeup, Libby came right in for a hug; we craned our necks to avoid smearing our freshly-finished faces, but our bodies were pressed right together, tits against tits, nipples against nipples, hips and thighs against hips and thighs... "I wish we could just stay here, like this..." I whispered.

"Mmm..." Libby agreed. "I love when we get close like this, Kells...." but she loosened her grip, we backed off and beheld each other warmly. "But then: that's what half-time is for!" she added, with a most mischievous smile.

"Something to look forward to, eh?" I grinned, speaking in half-joking tones even as I wondered: 'so what has she got planned for me, then?'

But there was no time to dwell on that, as Libby had opened the door and was dragging me by the hand towards my doom. "Oh, Libs..." I called as we made our way through the back-corridors of the pub, having to raise my voice over the fast-approaching noise of the rabble. "Libs, I dunno about this..."

"It'll be great! You'll be fine, they'll love you!" she promised me, refusing to let me escape. "Wait here," she suddenly said, stopping, making me crash body-on-body into her; "I'll step out first, and I'll give you a grand introduction."

"Libby!" I hissed in protest, but she had already stepped around the corner into the light, and barely half a second passed before the crowd roared their recognition and approval: "Libby!" was the chorused cry from what sounded like at least two hundred men.

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you!" I heard her yell over the noise. Though she had stepped out of sight, I could see her shadow on the wall ahead, curtsying daintily to acknowledge their rapturous welcome. "What a pleasure it is to be back at 'the Berriga' for Tits-Out Thursday," she added. "Did you miss me at all?"

I laughed at her cheek, as the mob made sure she knew they definitely missed her.

"Well then, Gents," she continued, and I knew my intro was about to begin. "It must be your lucky night... because I've brought a friend!" A short pause for another joyous cheer. "Gentlemen of Berriga, please make welcome my best friend -- and best-looking friend -- in the whole entire universe... Kelly!"

And before I knew what was happening, she had reached back around the corner to yank me out into the open... 

...and there I was, clad in only a red satin g-string and a silly clip-on collar-and-tie, tits out and free, blinking with surprise in the sudden murky light of the barroom... 

...and there in the pub were dozens and dozens of men, definitely approaching a couple hundred of them, of varying age and varying states of decrepitude... 

...and all of them, every single one of them, were looking at me. Taking me in; taking in the large, free and easy set of my bared breasts; taking in the soft, gentle, voluptuous curves of my body; taking in the cheekiness of my skimpy shiny little g-string and the length and curves of my legs; looking me up and down with appraising eyes, judging me, deciding on my beauty and hotness as I stood tits-out and exposed before them all...

...and it took barely half a second before they again roared their approval, long and loud, their faces clearly telegraphing their glad and welcoming acceptance of my mostly-naked presence. As one they rose to their feet to give me a standing ovation, applauding my hotness, and I probably blushed as I gave them a short wave, flattered beyond belief and not knowing what to do or where to put my hands.

Ever the show-off, Libby leaned in close to me, her breast pressing hard against my bared arm as she gave me a cuddle and a peck on the cheek for encouragement. Not one member of our audience missed it, and they roared yet again in highest approval of our closeness, our affection, the bare bodily contact shared between us. "See?" Libby yelled over them. "They love you!"

"Thank god for that," I laughed with relief. "What would they have done if they DIDN'T like me?"

"We'll never know," she promised me. "Now: let's get to work, shall we?"

And as the applause died down, we headed for the bar, smiling and greeting every man with the gumption to attempt eye contact along the way. Libby introduced me to Agnes, the pub owner working behind the bar -- old, grizzled and toothless, she was just as I had imagined her, pouring pint after pint and spitting and swearing to match even the most blokey of her patrons -- and with a wink and a grin she handed us our trays.

"Okay, we go our separate ways now," Libby told me. "I'll work this side of the room, you work that side; we'll swap sides after half an hour and we'll go for our break after an hour. You shouldn't cop any grief, but if you do: sing out for me or for Agnes, or just look for one of the boys in the black shirts -- they're motorcycle-gangers, they'll sort out any ruffians."

"There are BIKIES in here?" I cried, wide-eyed with fear.

"Relax -- the bikies virtually own the place," Libby assured me. "You're safe as houses so long as you can see a bikie. Good luck, hun!" She reached in to give me another hug, front-on and tit-to-tit this time -- giving the men around us quite the thrill, earning a small local cheer from those who could see us -- and with a warm smile she was gone.

I stood for a moment, hesitant and indecisive as I watched Libby head for the other side of the bar. Wondering shortly what the hell I was going to do next, I decided: 'fuck it. I'm here; my tits are out; there's a good vibe in the place; why not make the most of it?' So I turned to the first bloke I saw looking my way and said:

"So what can I get ya, love?"

And thus the evening unfurled. I moseyed through the bustling crowd, safe and unmolested, feeling like Moses at the Red Sea as the bodies parted before me, allowing me to pass with my drink orders with friendly smiles all around. It was just as Libby had predicted; I constantly felt eyes on me. I knew I was being perved on and appreciated, but very seldom did I see anyone actively leering at me. 

On occasion I would catch someone out in a quiet, thoughtful gawk at my goodies, but it was okay. Once they realised I had seen them checking me out, they'd catch my eye and I would usually flutter my lids demurely, or give them a smile and a wink; once or twice I even flashed my eyebrows to share in the naughtiness of it, as if to say "yeah, I've got my tits out. But don't tell anyone, okay?" And they'd laugh at themselves and laugh with me, and that would be that.




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 06



All the while, as I took the men's drinks orders, sat to chat with the friendlier-looking groups, made my way to and from the bar and even stepped behind the bar to pour my own orders when Agnes was too busy, I felt Libby's eyes on me too. And we shared many a knowing grin as we worked through our shift, swapping our sides of the bar as agreed so as to let all the patrons have a good close look at us; and when our paths crossed, Libby would sometimes reach over and slap me on my bare behind, or I might sneak up behind her when she wasn't ready and give her a pinch on her own shapely rump, earning a squeal every time.

As the first hour came to a close, Libby and I met to agree it was time to go and change; as we did so, one of the younger patrons spoke up nearby. "Ladies, if it isn't too bold of me to ask," he began, a lot more eloquently than expected, "would you mind if me and my buddies took a picture of your lovely selves?"

They had their camera phones at the ready; as they had managed to put their request as nicely as possible, neither Libby nor I felt that we could refuse. Arranging ourselves for a pose, I was prepared to simply stand near to Libby, with my tits out and pointing at her as I smiled demurely for the camera. But Libby had other plans -- she got right up into my space, pressing right up against me for the boys: tit on tit, hands on my arse, her crotch hard against my crotch.

Libby's daring provocation brought a truly appreciative cry from the lads, and they snapped picture after picture. I was laughing with surprise and my own delight, but Libby favoured the cameras with a truly smoking, sultry look as she held herself hard against me... and her far hand, hidden away from the cameras, was rubbing up and down over my buttock most alluringly, and arousingly, with surprising but clear intent...

"Okay -- shows over for now, boys," she suddenly told them, as I looked at her with renewed surprise. "We're off for a bit of a break. But don't you go anywhere, we'll be back soon..."

Over the half-hearted cries of protest from the lads, Libby clutched my hand and dragged me at a half-run back to our change room. Once inside, she slammed the door and locked it, and before I had even caught my breath she was on me again -- grinding her crotch hard against mine, tits against my tits yet again, and this time favouring me with the most lustful kiss she had kissed me with yet, moaning and groaning as I realised how very, extremely horny she was.

"Kelly..." she whispered, between her embraces on my surprised but willing lips, between the hot and heady lashes of her tongue against mine. "Kelly... I haven't stopped watching you out there, Kells. I haven't stopped watching you out there: showing yourself off to all of them... flirting with the guys you catch perving on you... talking with the guys, sitting right next to them, laughing and fluffing your hair as though you didn't have your tits out at all... Kelly," she whispered breathily, leaving off her kisses to fix me in the eye...

"Kelly," she said again, as I caught my breath -- astonished at her sudden horny turn, my heart pounding, racing to catch my breath as my own unrealised horniness suddenly slammed home in me, making my own crotch slick with moisture, making my own hands run over her back and buttocks, making me press my own tits hard into hers and rub my own crotch hard up against hers, wanting more kisses, more kisses... but wanting also to hear what she had to say, what she was going to say next, hoping to hear what I wanted to hear...

"Kelly," she said, and she said it, she said what I was yearning, dying to hear from her soft, delectable, delicious lips: "I want you Kelly. I want to have you now..."

I fixed her in the eye, my mouth falling slightly with incredible, wanton hunger as I finally heard it from her. Oh, how so very badly I wanted it. How very badly I wanted to say it, to say those simple, forbidden words: "take me Libs... I'm yours, take me, have me..."

"...I'm so sorry," was what I said instead.

I couldn't. I just couldn't do it. Had I been single, I would have done it -- I knew that now, with absolute surety. But then, even leaving aside my sworn faithfulness to my Tom, I also knew my desires were not piqued because I strictly wanted Libby. I was so horny I wanted anyone, anybody, any person of any gender. And that wouldn't have been fair on Libby; given the love that we shared, to have shared in the ultimate act of love based merely on wanting anything from anyone at that particular point in time, would not have been fair. It would not have been fair on our love, and it would likely have ultimately destroyed our love because I knew, beyond this night, I could never do it with her again. She was not who I truly wanted.

"I'm sorry," I said again, as she leaned back to look me in the eye, looking somewhat crestfallen but not terribly surprised. She would have known the reason why I said no, but I told her anyway: "It's Tom..."

She nodded bravely. "I know," she said, simply. "He's a lucky guy, Kells."

My heart was breaking, as I wondered and feared that hers may have been breaking because of my rejection. I needn't have worried about the state of her heart though, as she quickly reached for her bag with a crooked grin and said, "I was pretty sure you were going to turn me down. I'm sorry I've pushed you again, by the way," she added. "But it was worth it, just to make sure. Just in case you told me 'yes'."

"It's okay," I promised her. "I very nearly told you 'yes'; I was so tempted Libs, really I was. So what's in the bag?" I added, my curiosity very much piqued.

"Just a couple of little somethings," she told me, her grin sprouting anew. "A little consolation prize for the both of us, which I brought along just in case I couldn't sway you..." And she brought them out of the bag: a matching pair of shiny new vibrators, long and most decidedly cock-like, the low light of the change room glinting off their stainless-steel finishes.

On any other day, in any other situation, I would have laughed at them. Or been astonished. Or possibly offended. But on this day: I grabbed at the one intended for me, greedily. "Thank god," I groaned, finding the on-switch after a brief search. "I have never needed something in my cunt so bad as I do right now..."

"Kelly: I promise you, I know exactly how you feel," Libby nodded, with feeling. The room was filled with the twinned sounds of our vibrators buzzing madly, loud and unforgiving like implements of heavy industry; but after a shared grin their buzzing was muted as we simultaneously grasped the things, lined them up and plunged them deeply into ourselves.

My eyes widened as the entirely new sensation gripped me from within. Never before had I known the joys of a vibrator; I've never owned one, nor a dildo, and in fact before I had discovered Libby's treasure-trove of nudie pics on Literotica I wasn't really all that much into masturbation. But now...

...now the incessant, unstoppable vibrations from the slender, eight-inch implement sparked a sudden and delicious warmth within me, lighting up my inner depths like a spark to a pool of gasoline; the delicious warmth spread outwards from my core and radiated to the tips of my fingers, the ends of my toes, blazing hotly off the top of my scalp. It didn't take me long to come to the teetering edge; I was already riled up terribly and exquisitely from our little show for the boys this evening, and then from Libby's kisses and her touch, and as if I needed it to rile me further now I had to watch Libby as she also drove herself to the brink of madness.

I truly had no choice in the matter. Hooked as I was on pornography, on all things pornographic -- especially live shows such as those so generously performed by Libby -- there was no way I could hope to look away from the maddeningly, hornifyingly awesome sight of Libby gripping her vibrator; plunging it deep inside her bald, shaven, dripping cunt; and slipping it in and out, up and down...

"Oh god," she breathed, obviously on the edge of a cataclysmic orgasm. "Oh god... oh god! Kells!" she gasped as she opened her eyes to watch me. "Kells... are you okay?"

I could barely even open my mouth to answer. "Uhhhhh..." was the best I could manage, in a trembling and flighty vibrato.

"Kells," Libby grinned, amused at my linguistic difficulties. "Kells... move it in and out Kells... move it in and out of you..."

"I can't," I moaned -- it was the truth. I couldn't move it. I hadn't even dared to pull it back out from the instant I put it in. "I can't move it... it'll kill me," I promised her. "If I move it, I'll come so hard I'm gunna diiiie..."

Libby grinned instantly. Even as she kept working at herself, even as she kept plunging her own buzzing vibrator in and out of her perfect, grasping little snatch, she stepped over to me... and even before she did it I knew what she intended to do...

"No, Libby," I begged, I pleaded. "No..." I whispered, totally in submission. "Please... no..."

But she did it: she reached down and gently, very gently, she wrapped her fingers about my hand, my hand that had a hold of my vibrating tormentor, and slowly, oh so slowly, she helped me pull it out...

"Ahhh..." I breathed as the terrible thing slipped slowly out of me, incrementally, millimetre by millimetre, buzzing me and tingling me and burning exquisitely. "Aaaargh... uuuuugh..."

"Are you ready?" she whispered in my ear; and I could see her own pleasure building and mounting, her bare naked breasts heaving as she breathed hard and she kept plunging her own vibrator in and out of her, in and out, in... oh god, not IN...

But before I could voice an objection, she did it. She pushed against my hand and made me plunge the unholy thing back into my deep, pulsating, slickened depths, and I came.

I came like never before. I came with the deepest, howlingest, most astonished and animalistic noise I had ever heard from myself; I came from the root of my soul and the depths of my being. I could barely stand it, and barely stand up; I crashed bodily into Libby even as she came too, she came as she watched the vibrator plunge back into my depths and she came as she watched me come, and we kept on coming together. We did it, we held each other upright as we plunged our steely buzzing wands deep into ourselves and we howled and we cried and we came and we came and we came.

I'll never know how long we stood there, coming in each other's arms; after what may have been a minute or an hour, a knock at our door finally snapped us out of our orgasmic stupor. "Come on ladies!" boomed the jovial yet business-like tones of Agnes. "Get out of each other and get back to work! I'm not paying you two good money to munch each others' boxes -- get back out there and shake it around before a riot starts!"

With the fun over, Libby and I grinned sheepishly at each other, even as we wound down from our orgasms that -- without Agnes's intervention -- may otherwise never have ended. "We'll be right out, Ags," Libby promised her.

"Make it quick, or I'm docking an hour's pay!" she threatened, and we heard her stomping off.

"Oh my god," I breathed, as we hurried to get into our second outfits -- I was having trouble slipping my thin lacey G-string up my legs, slick as they were with my flowing juices. "Libby... damn Libby, but that was awesome!"

"Wasn't it though?" she agreed, her breasts heaving most distractingly as she too raced to dress herself in her next outfit. "Kells: I want to say sorry again, for trying to... you know..."

I knew; she was referring to the kiss, and how she tried yet again to convince me to give in to her. "It's okay," I told her, with a wink. "But Libby: I was tempted. Truly I was. You know, I bet if you'd actually pressed your case with Tom, he would have given in too," I added.

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, I can try to seduce Tom next time I see him..." she offered, in a fairly obvious half-joking, half-serious tone.

I smiled at the joke, though I was surprised to find the concept had a certain allure to it... "Only if I can join in!" I declared -- a half-serious-joke of my own.

"It's a deal," Libby declared; and with the mood thus lightened, we finished our preparations and bustled back out into the pub. There was no time to reapply make-up, re-do our hair, or wash away the sticky, heady juices that still clung to our legs and crotches -- we just had to face the crowds as we were, consequences be damned. 

Our reappearance before the bustling crowd -- tits akimbo, as always -- was met with a long "Heeeeey" from the ensemble, as if to uniformly say "welcome back strangers -- long time no see!" We grinned our apologies and set back to work, heading off to opposite sides of the barroom to serve the men once more.

The second hour passed much as the first had done, though I was helped along by a pleasant after-glow from my private encounter with Libby. As the drinks were consumed, the men became easier and friendlier -- not in a groping sort of way, more in the set of their body language as I chatted with them and took their orders, as if it became easier for them to deal with a topless woman after a few cold ones. 

Just as Libby had promised, I was having so much fun; it was an incredible boost to my self-esteem, knowing that every single one of them in the room thought me a total hottie, and I flirted ever-more with the safer-looking ones and thrilling in the joy of it.

Before I knew it, Libby was signalling -- with that unmistakable glint in her eye -- that it was time for our second hourly break. Safely back in our change room, it was on again: the vibrators fell back to hand and we gave in to mindless abandon once again, plunging the wicked instruments deep into ourselves and watching the other build to yet another mindless, hollering series of orgasms.

Having allowed ourselves only five minutes' break to avoid the wrath of Agnes, and realising we had only brought two costumes each, this time we agreed to 'fuck it all', to throw all caution to the wind and the consequences be damned -- so we sauntered back out into the crowd totally and utterly naked, not a stitch on us, the sticky moisture of our still-flowing juices glinting obviously in the barlight for all to see... and they loved it, treating us to a full two-minute standing ovation, howling their approval as we let it all hang out and rejoiced. 

By that stage I simply didn't care any more -- let them all see me. Let them see my tits, large and proud; let them see my arse, bare and full; let them see my pussy, recently shaved in anticipation of having to model very small items of underwear for very large crowds, and even more recently plied by a large buzzing vibrator. My lips were still puffy and full with my arousal, my juices were literally smeared about my pubis and my inner thighs. And I just didn't care. Let them see it, I thought. I wanted them to see it.

The final hour passed in a blur; we didn't drink anything ourselves but we still were drunk, drunk on the heady bewilderment of it all, and looking back now I truly am having trouble gleaning the finer details. I can remember the crowd getting rowdier, and a few brawls springing up over on Libby's side of the bar, quickly brought under control by the bikers. Heaven knows what Libby was doing over there but it was getting the lads quite riled, and they were literally fighting for her attention. My half of the bar were far better behaved -- I think my own giddy elation was affecting my patrons, we all swanned about in a disbelieving, hazy daze at the wonder of it all.

Finally we were done; nine o'clock chimed on the old blood-spattered mahogany clock high on the wall, and I saw Libby trying to gain my attention, calling me over to join her. When I reached her I saw she had a retinue: four burly bikers were serving as her personal guard, her behaviour seemingly having called for a security escort. She said something to them, and my heart nearly stopped as two of them reached for me... but I needn't have worried, as they simply picked me up and helped me stand up on the bar, alongside Libby who had also been lifted high above the throng, and the sight of our naked selves standing high and proud above the men raised yet another ovation.

"Thank you, gentlemen!" Libby cried out, once they had settled down a little. "Thank you very kindly for having us tonight, but I'm afraid it is now time for us to be going."

On cue, the crowd cried out their disappointment.

"Yes, yes, I know..." she commiserated, as we grinned at the crowd's kindness. "But don't you worry ¬-- you can rest assured I will be right back here, same time next week. Howzat sound?"

The crowd cheered their approval; shortly I saw a few of my favourites calling, and I realised they were saying "what about Kelly? What about Kelly??"

"How about it, Kelly?" Libby asked me before them all and putting me on the spot, the cheeky thing. "Reckon we can tempt you back, next week?"

I made a show of pulling a wry face -- but secretly, I had only one answer, and after making them wait and listening to a few more plaintive pleas, I gave them the truth: "I wouldn't miss it for the world," I assured her, and them all.

That provoked perhaps the loudest cheer of the evening. Libby and I grinned and laughed as we watched them cheer victoriously, jumping up and down and hugging each other with glee; shortly our minders decided the crowds had had enough, and they paraded us on their shoulders about the pub on what may have been a 'victory lap', allowing us to show off our naked bodies one last time. The crowds reached out for us, craning for contact as though we were rockstars, and both Libby and I rewarded them with smiles, eye-contact, and we even reached out to touch a few hands, most magnanimously.

The bikers carried us safely back to our change room, also thanking us profusely as they departed. We went into our room to find a beer mug stuffed with big-dollar bills. "Where did that come from?" I frowned.

"That'll be from Agnes," Libby explained. "You know: our salary?"

I frowned for a few more moments, but then I laughed again. I had been having so much fun out there that I'd totally forgotten this wasn't just a hobby, it was a job; we were paid for our services, and quite handsomely so. "Holy shit!" I observed, staring at all the money. "Does she always pay you this much?"

"At first she paid a flat hourly rate, but after a while she realised I was bringing in that much extra business she turned it into a percentage of the till."

"Well," I breathed, still goggling at all the money. "Either she made a killing on the till tonight... or she's upped your percentage!"

"Half of this is going to you, you know," she reminded me.

I laughed again. I'd had so much fun that night, taking money for my trouble almost seemed too much.

We eyed the vibrators once again, but we decided that it was time to get going; there was plenty of time for that in the car, we realised. So we got all our stuff together and strode naked towards the car park, still riding such a delicious high that we agreed it would be an absolute, positive shame to have to put clothes on again. Besides, it's not like there was anyone out there who hadn't already seen us starkers...

But we were wrong. Strolling through the carpark towards Tom's 'Big Bruiser', my heart was gripped with panic as we beheld a group of four guys standing around the car. They were huge, all of them big and bulky, each one of them missing teeth and with scars on their faces... the very definition of ugly, unpleasant hillbilly hicks.

"Well hello, Libby," one of them -- apparently their leader -- spoke up. "How nice to see you again. And you've brought along a friend this time..."




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 06



I looked to Libby, hoping desperately that this was all just a joke; that perhaps she might smile at them in recognition, and they would break into laughter, and the threatening air would dissipate. Instead, Libby had stopped in her tracks, hesitant, trying to look brave but I could see she was fighting down her panic.

'Oh shit,' I thought.



Kelly's Liberation Ch. 07



After a heady night's work letting it all hang out at the Berriga Pub's "Tits-Out Thursday", Libby and I were in trouble. We had been strolling through the carpark, utterly naked, our heads buzzing with elation after our lewd antics in the pub. We were ready to leap into my absent husband's luxury saloon and drive off into the night, most likely with our fingers buried deep inside ourselves, ready to masturbate with wild and abandoned fury as we relived our adventures.

But it was not to be. Walking back to where we had parked in a darkened corner of the lot, far from the pub, my heart was gripped with panic as we beheld a group of four guys standing around the car. They were huge, all of them big and bulky, each of them missing teeth and with scars on their faces... the very definition of ugly, unpleasant hillbilly hicks.

"Well hello, Libby," one of them – apparently their leader – spoke up. "How nice to see you again. And you've brought along a friend this time..."

I looked to Libby, hoping desperately that this was all just a joke; that perhaps she might smile at them in recognition, and they would break into laughter, the threatening air would dissipate and they would prove to be friends. Instead, Libby had stopped in her tracks, hesitant, trying to look brave though I could see she was fighting down her panic.

"Boys," she replied, curtly. "I hope we're not going to have any trouble tonight."

"You bet you're gonna have trouble," the lead hick promised her. "Your mate smashed my nose up a real treat, last time we met," he added, pointing to his ugly broken nose as proof; was he referring to my Tom? "When we heard you had come back tonight we rushed on over here, and straight away we picked this pimp-mobile as his. So where is he?"

"He's not with us," Libby told them, bravely. "If you've got some beef with him, you'll have to wait til next time."

"No no," the hick disagreed. "I'm thinking: if we can't take it out of his arse, we're just gonna have to take it out of yours. And a mighty fine arse to take it out of, too. Awful kind of you to leave it unwrapped for us." and his posse of hillbilly thugs leered their agreement.

"Who's your friend?" another one of the hicks chimed in, scanning me up and down with the most repugnant look on his face. Now more than ever, I wished we had got dressed before we left the pub.

"Get your damn eyes off her," Libby nearly snarled, her fists balling up instantly.

The ferocity of her reaction took them all aback – and me too – but only for a second before their ugly chuckles and unkind gazes came back to me. "Oho..." their leader saw. "She's a 'special friend' then, eh? Well well," he reckoned. He had been reclining lazily against the front fender of my husband's car, but now he stood up properly to saunter a few steps in my direction. "Hello there," he greeted me, with the most unkind intentions blazing in his squinty little eyes.

I felt the fear grip my heart as he walked towards me. I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he was an animal; he would take what he wanted, he would not hear 'no' for an answer, and Libby and I were in trouble – me especially, as I saw his evil hunger locked unwavering on me. But before he could get any closer, Libby stepped protectively in front of me.

"You stay the fuck away from her," she hissed, dangerously and possessively.

"No I don't think so," the guy told her, though he did pause somewhat in his advance. "You and your buddy caused all of us a great deal of agony, you see; and it's just like they say: 'payback's a bitch.'"

"You've got to leave her alone," Libby told her, and now there was an edge of pleading in her voice. "Please. She's a mother."

"And a yummy mummy at that," the hick replied, with a few more chuckles and whistles of agreement from his posse as they rose and stepped up behind him.

"Please," Libby said again; and even as I saw her shoulders slump somewhat, I knew what she was going to say. "Please... do me instead."

That made them all stop. "Come again?" the lead hillbilly invited, most surprised.

"You can do me instead," Libby told them, though I could scarcely believe my ears. "I'll let you do it. I won't stop you."

"Libby... no..." I breathed, in sheer disbelief.

"What... all of us?" the second-hick-in-command piped up, with optimism.

Libby nodded her consent, most grudgingly. "But only," she added, "if you promise you won't touch my friend."

Terrifyingly, our aggressors looked dubious. "I dunno..." their leader mused. "I mean, she's an awful fine piece of arse there."

"She's done nothing to you," Libby reminded them. "My friend broke your nose, and I ran the rest of you over with his Porsche... but she hasn't done a thing to you. She doesn't even know him," she added, which was of course an outright lie; I was in fact married to him and had borne his children. 

I'd had no idea that Libby and Tom had faced down these guys before, and it amazed me that Tom had dealt with their leader so effectively. For as long as I'd known my husband I'd never seen him in a fight, though I'd also never seen him with a cause to fight for. How I wished he was with us now – but he was still ten thousand miles away, tooling around Europe exactly when I needed him to be with me.

"Look, just..." Libby went on. "Just do me. All of you. Go for it. Just please: don't hurt my friend. Okay?"

An awful smile had been growing on the lead hick's face as he grew to enjoy the idea. "Well, seeing as you asked so nicely," he leered, which made my skin crawl with horror.

"Libby, no!" I cried, finally finding my voice. "You can't!"

"Kells, I have to," she whispered back, as the hicks started laughing and arguing over who would get to do Libby first. "We can't beat them, and it's too far to run for help. If I don't do this, they'll rape us and kill us both. It's the only way I can protect you."

"But... but Libs..." I murmured, as tears started spilling from my eyes.

Tears of her own were gathering in Libby's eyes. "It's my fault we're here," she told me. "It's my fault we came to work here on Tits-Out Thursday. It's my fault these guys are angry. Shit, it's even my fault you started posting on Literotica in the first place. If it wasn't for me, none of this would have happened and you'd be safe at home with your kids. And... and I pushed you for sex so many times..." And I saw that Libby felt guiltiest over that, more than anything else; I wanted to tell her to stop, she had nothing to apologise for, but she kept talking. "I've got to do this. I love you Kells... please don't love me less for this..."

I could hardly speak, as her words sank in and broke my heart. "How could I possibly love you any less?" I asked of her. "I just... Libs, I don't want you to do this..."

She smiled at me: sad, scared, but decided. "I have to," she whispered. "If it will protect you... if it will keep you safe... then I want to. I'll take him, and them, and everyone in that fucking pub. I'll take a hundred cocks for you, if it will keep you safe. I love you," she whispered again as she took my hands in hers.

"Libby..." was all I could say, as she turned to go. There was so much I wanted to say to her. I wanted to thank her, but tell her no, don't do it. I wanted to volunteer myself in her stead, but I couldn't. I was too scared, I wasn't nearly as courageous as Libby.

"Here she comes, boys!" the leader declared, and the group whooped and cheered with evil delight as Libby approached.

She fronted up to them, standing tall, brave and noble in defiance of their ugliness; her shoulders back, breasts firm and proud, her arse pert and just so as she stood naked before them. "Who's first?" she asked, managing to sound casual to the utmost.

There was a general surge as all in the pack tried to get to her first, but their leader beat them back. "She's mine!" he growled at them. "Me first! You can deal with the 'sloppy seconds'," he leered, and they laughed in grudging acquiescence.

"Libby," I called after her, hoarse and squeaky as my voice failed me. She had walked around the car to get to them, and now she turned her back on them, bending forwards slightly to lay her hands palms-down on the bonnet of Tom's car. The animals banding behind her all whistled and whooped in ugly appreciation, as I imagined what they saw: her legs spread slightly and body leaning forwards, her pretty little pussy exposed, and possibly open...

"Look at that, boys," the lead thug cheered, even as he started at his jeans. Thankfully the bonnet of Tom's car was high enough that it shielded my eyes from the man's beastly cock. I could only look on in horror, unable to look away as he stepped up close, close as can be, closer than he deserved to be with my Libby; and I saw Libby flinch as he stooped slightly, his cock at the ready, its tip brushing against her unwilling lips, ready to push forwards...

...when there was a roar from behind us, and a flurry of gravel as a Porsche came barrelling around the corner, heading right for us all. Even before recognition dawned on me, I saw Libby jam an elbow into her would-be attacker's most delicate area, and as he crumpled in agony she jumped out of the way, barely moments before the Porsche hit the big sedan with enough force to shunt it forwards and knock all the hillbillies to the ground.

The Porsche revved its engine as it backed up. In a daze, I found myself wondering how it could still be running with so much damage to its nose, until I remembered that somebody told me Porsches actually have their engines in the boot. Who told me that...? 

"Tom..." I breathed, even as the driver's door opened and, impossibly, the very man leapt out with murder in his eye.

"Kelly! Libby!" Tom boomed. "Are you okay?"

"Tom, I think she's in shock," I heard Libby say. She was suddenly beside me, unhurt and free of hillbilly violation.

I was about to say something when I heard an angry yell of recognition: the impact had skittled the hillbillies, but as one they had risen and now had murder in their eyes for Tom. "You!!" their leader bellowed, his cock still swinging in the breeze. "You broke my fucking nose!"

Tom held his ground, even as they began to advance upon him: "I'll snap it off this time – your nose, and anything else that comes to hand," he added.

The hillbillies were almost upon him, their leader rearing back for a swing that would surely have been the end for my poor Tom, when we were all brought short by an unexpected explosion – the sound of a shot fired into the air. We turned and saw Agnes the publican, her toothless face set in a no-nonsense squint as she brought her shotgun to bear on our aggressors.

They didn't even pause – the hillbilly pack simply turned tail and fled. Agnes and her shotgun must have already earned a reputation.

"Oh shit," I heard Libby breathe. "Agnes, thank you! But I didn't know you owned a gun..."

"I own the gun," she told us, and with a cheeky grin she added, "but I only owned the one cartridge. You all had better get going."



Libby, Tom and I piled into the Porsche as advised; Tom cranked it into gear and tore us out of there. The broken-nosed Porsche was evidently still in working order; I was not so sure about Tom's 'big bruiser' and neither Libby or I were in much of a state for driving it home with us.

"Will your big car be okay?" Libby asked, perhaps reading my mind. "If those hicks come back they'll probably trash it."

"That's what insurance is for," Tom told her as we sped off into the dark. "Well then," he added, as we all sat back and tried not to let the reaction hit us too hard. "It might be an idea to find a new topless bar to work in, don't you think?"

I simply stared at him as relief, wonder and amazement all fought for control of my face. "Where the fuck did you come from?" I demanded of him. "Weren't you in Europe?"

"Babes: when you sent me those pictures of you and Libby, stripping each other down and getting all up-close and personal," he told me, with a grin, "I couldn't stay away. I cancelled the rest of my book tour and flew on home to surprise you. I found your mother minding the kids, she told me you and Libs had 'gone to the pub', and when she made some comment about Libby's itty bitty black skirt and red shoes, I put that together with the fact it was Thursday... and decided I'd better tear on out in the Porsche, see if I couldn't catch the end of the show," he finished, with a wicked grin.

"Well you got here just in time," Libby told him. "That guy's cock was so close... so close..." Tom and I picked up that particular note in her voice, and we both looked back to see Libby, in the back seat with nary a stitch on her, legs spread wide and her fingers plunged deeply into herself.

My jaw dropped. "Libs!" I cried. "That... that didn't turn you on, did it?"

"Are you kidding?" she rejoined. "The danger... the close call... the adrenaline... Tom turning up like a knight in shining armour to rescue us... mmm..." she added, needing to say nothing more.

I had to admit, the whole thing had me incredibly riled as well. We had escaped a very close shave indeed, I had little doubt now that those guys would definitely have pinned me down too once they'd had their fill of Libby. The thought of that definitely wasn't a turn-on, but the reaction, the sheer relief, and just as Libby said: the adrenaline of it all... I realised my moisture was making the leather seat beneath me fairly slick, my nipples were so incredibly hard they almost hurt, and a glance in Tom's lap revealed a similar state of arousal in him.

"You know," he began. "I think I'm gonna have to pull over..."

Hardly had he done so when I more or less jumped on him. It felt like it had been forever since I had last laid hands on him. It was like a lifetime ago, back before I had discovered Literotica, discovered Libby's pictures and Tom's encouragement of Libby in her work. The mere sight of the lump in his pants brought me to the boil, straight away, and as I kissed him he kissed me back, hot and heavy, our hands nearly colliding as we simultaneously reached for each other – as he reached for my tits and I for his cock.

Tom and I worked at each other, running our hands all over the other, and Libby watched us from the back seat, her fingers sucking and squelching noisily in and out of her pussy as she three-fingered herself with total abandon. Both Tom and I regularly glanced back to catch her show, even as we worked to strip Tom down to a state similar to our own. In no time at all his shirt was gone, his pants flew down and his jocks verily did scamper away from my ravenous efforts. And finally, finally I had him. No, WE had him: Libby and I finally had our Tom, naked with us, so close in the tight confines of the little sports car.

I heard Libby moan appreciatively as Tom's cock sprang into view. With barely a thought, I was on it, I leaned down and took it into my mouth, suspecting that I may have only just beat Libby to it!

"Oh Kells..." Libby moaned as she watched me suck my husband, as I sucked on Tom's rod long and hard and deeply. "Kelly, you're so sexy," she told me, her voice raising higher and flightier as she kept three-finger-fucking herself towards a frenzy. "Kelly, look at you sucking Tom's cock... sucking Tom's beautiful, long, hard cock..."

I looked shortly up at Tom, catching his eye as I grinned around a mouthful of meat. We both basked gladly in Libby's praise, Tom thrilling to hear another woman expressing appreciation for his long thick member, me thrilling to hear my friend lusting after that which was mine – thrilling also, to know that Libby was getting off on watching me please him, watching me sucking and slurping greedily upon my husband's bulging cock.

"Kelly, you're so beautiful..." Libby went on, as she kept on plunging her fingers, deep and merciless into her gorgeous little cunt. "Oh my god Kelly, you're so sexy, your tits are so big and so beautiful, your arse is so awesome, your curves, your skin... oh how I want you, Kelly," she confessed, her voice becoming deeper, guttural, growling and wanton as she voiced her desires. "I want you, Kelly. I want to have you... to touch you... I want it so bad, Kelly I want to make you cummmm..." and she trailed off helplessly, thrashing at herself as though she was so close yet so far to an orgasm of her own... as though she'd never get there, she wasn't getting what she wanted. She wanted to fuck me and she wanted me to fuck her and try as she might, she'd never get herself off while she was denied of me.

How I hated to see her, Libby, my best and oldest friend, denied of what she wanted. And how I wanted her too. There was no denying it now, I wanted her, I wanted to have her and to be had by her... and I wanted Tom to watch. I knew he loved the thought of bearing witness to girl-on-girl action. He had mentioned it many times before, always joking-but-not-quite... I knew what he wanted, what I wanted, and what Libby desperately wanted and needed.

So I paused in my ministrations upon Tom's cock, and looked up at him. "Well babe – whaddaya say?"

Both Tom and Libby merely stared at me, silent and agape.

"Tom's always said, I could hook up with a woman if I wanted to – but only if he could watch," I informed Libby, in a sultry purr of my own. "So then, hubby: what say you?"

Tom blinked rapidly, barely daring to dream that he had heard me correctly. "Are you serious?" he managed.

"Fucking oath I am serious," I told him – clasping his cock in my hand and pumping slowly upon it, up and down, to keep him on the boil. "Just look at her, Tom!" He gladly did so, drinking in her bare naked form, her tits so perky, her curves so tight and toned, her pussy dripping wet and prised open by her own fingers. Although he certainly wasn't seeing anything new; from all Libby had posted on the Literotica boards, and all he had viewed privately in this very car when they'd naughtily come on up for Tits-Out Thursday without me. Tom was definitely no stranger to Libby's finer features.

"Just look at her!" I said again. "Look how hot she is... I want her too, Tom. I want Libby too." I looked into Libby's eyes as I said it. She and I both knew it. We both knew we had long been holding out against a fiercely mutual attraction, though her eyes lit up with joy to hear me finally confirm it.

"May I have her, Tom?" I asked of him, turning back to him and pausing to run the tip of my tongue, slow and gradually and enticingly along the length of his cock, earning an exquisite little shudder out of my man – as though he needed to be swayed by the action. "May we do it? May we do it together, Libby and I? For you?"

Tom didn't even hesitate with his reply: "Fuck yes!" he cried.

I turned to Libby, to see her regarding me with surprise and growing glee – and we launched ourselves at each other, colliding with our lips and breasts and arms, enveloping each other as we met half-way between the front and back seats of the car.

Libby and I didn't hold back now. With permission from Tom, I finally felt ready. She could have me now. I was hers to take and she knew it. Her fingers flew down my body, whisking over my breasts, down my stomach, across my hips and suddenly she was in me. My best friend Libby, beautiful and feminine, whom I had known and loved for so long, finally had her fingers deep and hard in my willing cunt...

...and I screamed as I came, I gasped and screamed and came with pure unfiltered pleasure as she slipped her fingers into my depths, tickled my clit with her thumb, slipped her fingers out to run their tips over my clit, and then repeated the process, fucking me with her fingers and rubbing my most tender spot hard between each stroke; I came and I came some more, clutching her free hand to my tit as she nuzzled my neck and ground her own sex against my thigh, as I reached up to cup her wondrous breasts in my hands, kneading them roughly and mercilessly as I treated her roughly in my pleasure...




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 07



...but it worked for her, my touch had her moaning and groaning as she shared in my pleasure, as the thrill of her finally touching me so deeply and personally fed my continuing orgasm, and finally I could wait no longer. I grasped at her own box, slipping my fingers without resistance between her puffy, moistened folds, slick with her unending juices. I teased and played with her, fondling her budding little clitoris tenderly, making her sing to a new, high, flighty tune; "aah... aah... ugh!" she gasped, most feminine and breathy as I rubbed her and fucked her with my fingers, plunging deeply and roughly into her hot, tight, silken, grasping little pussy, reaching around and behind her to cup her pert little buttock in my free hand as I drove her to insane new heights, driving her on and on, upwards and upwards but not over the brink, not yet, not yet...

...until I could wait no longer and I brought her there, my bunched fingers rudely and roughly parted her inner depths and I plunged deeply into her, I finger-fucked my oldest and best friend's pussy and she came. She came hard. She came for me with a shuddering, trembling force and a deep, belly-based cry; her knees buckled somewhat, she had to lean back against the seat of the Porsche to brace herself, and as she fell a little I merely pushed forwards harder, pushed my hand harder against her sex, pushed my fingers deeper into her hot, tight, dripping, ever-so-aromatic little snatch and I made her come harder, harder and harder, sparing a hand to touch my own sopping cunt which Libby had started to neglect under her own helpless pleasure, bringing myself back to orgasm even as I kept her coming, kept her coming, and we came together, crying and yelling and thrashing against the never-ending cascade of enveloping, overwhelming pleasure...

And finally I remembered our audience – Tom, sitting turned in the driver's seat to watch us, running his hands all over his cock, wanking and pounding himself as he took in our incredible display, watching his two gorgeous women hot and naked and fucking each other, coming together...

And he came, his whole body stiffened and he cried out and he came, shooting a thick wad all over his own belly. I hated to see it going to waste so I quickly fell upon it – even as I kept fingering Libby I plunged my mouth down on Tom's cock and I drank, I drank him down, his hot white salty seed cascaded out of his cock in thick white sheets and I gobbled it all up, I drank him down, and I knew Libby watched me doing it. Even as my fingers slowed upon her sex and let her wind down, I knew Libby was watching me as I gladly pumped and pistoned up-and-down upon his cock, greedily drinking and swallowing Tom's load, as he moaned and he groaned as his orgasm stretched out under my attention.

Soon we had all wound down. I mercifully left off of Libby's pussy and she fell back in a heaving, gasping mess. I left off my own twitching, pounding little mound as my excitement wound back, if only slightly, and Tom's orgasm gradually abated. The flow of spunk slowed down and his cock began to subside, settling down from diamond-cutter status to something a little smaller, a little softer – but still impressive, nonetheless and as always.

"Oh my god..." Tom was murmuring. "Kells... Libby... the two of you together: that was the hottest thing I've ever seen! You're so beautiful together, the way you treat each other, the way you made each other come so hard..."

Libby and I shared a glance – both of us grinning to know we had done it, we had done it for him, played and put on a show for the man to whom we owed all our recent fun – the man who had inspired Libby's unexpected exhibitionistic turn, which led me to similarly putting myself on show, leading both Libby and I onwards and upwards to ever-more riling activities with orgasms galore along the way...

"I only wish I'd been able to control myself just now," Tom went on, and I was surprised to hear a lamenting, self-reprobating tone in his voice. "I wanted to keep on watching, I wanted to wait, to save my cock for something else... but I couldn't hold back, you were both so achingly hot, so very sexy, coming and making each other come... I just had to wank," he finished, ruefully. "I just couldn't hold it back. I had to come while I watched you together."

I smiled at Tom, as though he was being silly. "Darling!" I replied, in a teasing tone of admonition. "You make it sound like you're done for the evening!"

Tom looked a little surprised. "Umm..." he said. "Well babe, you know me... I tend to give my all on the first blow. I just come too hard, I guess," he said, sounding a little embarrassed to confess what he felt to be a personal failing in front of Libby.

I smiled warmly, and turned to Libby. "Sounds like a challenge to me..." I told her.

"Mmm..." Libby chimed in, with a marvellously dirty grin of her own. "Have I ever mentioned the time my old boyfriend said..." 

"You're so good at giving head you ought to get your mouth insured?" we all chorused. "Yes, Libby," I added. "You've mentioned it once or twice before."

"Well then," Libby continued, unabashed as always. "Kelly: may I...?"

She left the question unfinished, but Tom and I both knew how it ended: 'May I attempt to re-start Tom's engine?' was the query.

I looked to Tom – who was boggling, not sure if he ought to look optimistic or otherwise – and I grinned at them both. "By all means!" I cheered. "But first..."

And as we made to swap seats front and back, I surprised Libby with a kiss – long, lusty and deep, lashing my tongue across hers and allowing her to taste of me.

"Mmm..." Libby growled, and she licked her lips theatrically. "I always wondered how Tom's cum tasted..."

I couldn't help but laugh to see the new look on Tom's face, swirls of delight and sheer exuberant gleefulness mixing in with his continuing, overwhelming shock and awe at the situation. "Now you know what you're working for!" I told Libby, grinning hugely.

We laughed as we exchanged seats, Libby taking pride of place up front next to Tom, and I realised why Libby had remained spread-eagled with her twat bared to all, as there was next to no legroom in the back of the tiny Porsche. I shrugged, and assumed the very same position: feet up on the seat and knees akimbo, preparing to stir myself up all over again as I watched Libby make herself comfortable, up on her knees, bending over Tom and hovering over his cock.

"I've been DYING to do this..." she murmured, bent low over his semi-hard cock, which was starting to stir, slither and grow already, I happily noticed. "Tom: I've been wanting to suck your cock for so long... all through what we've shared, ever since that morning by the pool when you were so kind to me, you helped me feel beautiful and sexy again, you encouraged me to share my body with the world... I've always been so grateful to you Tom, and I've always, ALWAYS wanted to thank you, the best way I know how..."

She was speaking into his cock now, nuzzling it in an almost comical fashion. She had reached up to lay hands on it, touching it reverently and for the first time, teasing and tracing Tom's knob around her face, across her cheeks and around, about her lips.

"I'm gonna suck your cock, Tom," she told him, fixing him dead in the eye – but she didn't forget me, she looked back to catch me spread wide and open, teasing my throbbing clit as I watched them. "I'm gonna suck your husband's cock, Kelly..." she breathed. "And it's gonna be so sweet..."

She couldn't hold off any more and she took him in – she plunged her mouth down, swift and hard, taking his still-growing member into her mouth. Tom jumped in his seat at the contact. How long had it been since any hand or mouth other than mine had touched his cock? We'd been married ten years, together even longer. I saw his eyes search out mine, just to make sure it was still okay – even with the deed done and his cock in Libby's mouth, swallowed to the hilt, he needed to look to me and make sure I was still okay with it. 

Ah, my Tom. Such a sweetheart.

I found his hand reaching around the far side of the driver's seat, reaching for me; I grabbed it with my spare hand and continued to fondle myself even as Libby drove up and down on my husband's cock, going slow but sucking hard.

It was quite instructional, watching our Libby at work. I've never been a great one for giving head, myself. Tom sometimes likes it for a brief spell, as an opening gambit during foreplay, but he really never asks me to take him all the way. He's always too eager to please me, to give me his cock and use it to make me cum. Having tasted of his cum just this evening, I realised that it was the first time he had come in my mouth for a very long time – years in fact, going back to the earliest time of our relationship.

But Libby's standing as a champion cock-sucker was obviously well-earned. I have done some research into the subject and I knew enough that a great headjob was essentially a close facsimile of a great vaginal fuck; it had to keep moving, it had to feel good and tight, and the action had to pick up as it progressed.

And watching Libby, I saw that was what she did. She drove up and down on my Tom, showing a stamina in terms of upper-body strength, neck and jaw muscles which I immediately knew I didn't possess. I didn't envy her of it too much though. Her status as a champion was obviously well earned, through a combination of all her gym time and what must have been lengthy and regular cock-sucking practice. All power to her!

And it was exciting to watch, too. Though she applied deliberate and obvious pressure to Tom's cock as she sucked, you could see her moving his increasingly-rigid cock back and forth with the force of her efforts. And she kept going, gradually upping the pace, driving faster up and down, up and down with her mouth on his cock.

Tom and I alternated between watching Libby's heroic efforts, and sharing a gaze – a gaze of love, of lust, openness and warmth. How glad we both were to have come to this. This world of amateur photography, voyeurism and exhibitionism which Tom had loved for all these years, and the joy he had shared with Libby in sharing it with her, he was now able to share with me. In the space of this short week I'd had my eyes opened to something incredible, so gratifying in tapping into a depth of sexuality I'd not realised I'd possessed, the liberation of putting myself out there, being seen and being praised by all, and now in sharing the joys of Libby's hot little body with my husband...

As Libby sucked my husband's cock, restoring its former length and hardness, I realised she was watching me play with myself – and she was busy playing with herself too, ramping her own pleasure back up towards the highs we had so recently hit. She finally came up for air off Tom's cock, having sucked him and sucked him without pause, and she bit her lip as she caught my eye.

"Your husband's cock is delicious, Kells," she purred, marvellously low and throaty. "But I can't help but be distracted by your gorgeous pussy: so hot, so wet, so near..."

Tom picked up on Libby's intent. "I think she wants a taste, my dear," he informed me, and without any warning, he reached over and dipped a finger deep into my cunt, surprising me greatly as he sunk his digit deep up to the last knuckle in my slickened, pliant depths.

Without a word, he proffered the finger – dripping wet, glistening with an incredibly thick, viscous coating of my juices – to Libby... and she leapt upon it, sucking the finger wholly into her mouth, her eyes closing immediately against the heady wanton bliss of the action as she sucked my husband's finger clean of my cunt juices. "MmmMMM!" she growled. There was no need to ask if she enjoyed my flavour.

"Do it, Libby..." my husband cooed to her. "Do it. Eat my wife, Libby. Go down on her, eat up her sweet little cunt. Eat her. Eat her!" She already was. She had leapt off Tom's finger and had scrambled back towards me, parking herself between the front seats and straddling the transmission tunnel as she dived head-first into my nether regions.

"Ohh..." I quivered, my hands falling to her head as she lapped me up, tonguing my dripping, tender little hole, running her tongue across and over my clitoris before plunging, prodding and probing back into my depths. "Oh Libby..."

I looked to Tom, seeing him temporarily unoccupied. I resolved to fix that, seeing there was just enough space between Libby and the dashboard for Tom to take position...

"Fuck her, Tom," I told him, even as Libby set me climbing towards yet another orgasm. "Get back there behind her and fuck her!"

Tom's face shone with delight and he happily obliged my command. Straddling the centre console himself, he grasped Libby by the hips, lined himself up, and began to ease his cock into her from behind. I felt Libby pause in her ministrations upon me. Her entire being froze with a new kind of pleasure as finally, finally, after they both must have wanted it for so long, wanted it but denied themselves of it, denied themselves out of love and loyalty to me – finally, she felt my husband's long, fat cock part her personal depths.

"Oh!" Libby moaned, even as he continued to feed himself into her tight, grasping cunt from behind. "Oh... ohh... oh! Oh Tom!" she cried, as he reached around her slender legs and placed a finger on her button, driving her to a new level of semi-madness. "Oh Kelly!" she added. I had reached down to grasp her breasts, knowing from prior experience how sensitive they became when she was close to an orgasm... and I waited until Tom was reading to stick her to the hilt, and I twisted her nipples, sharp and painfully...

And she came. Lord how she came! Her back contracted and she arched upwards and into my hands, thrusting her breasts harder into my rough treatment, even as she pooched her pussy harder back against my husband's long thick invading cock – and she screamed, she screamed and she screamed as she came, she came and she kept on cumming.

And she did not stop cumming, even as my husband fed his cock into her, into and out, into and out, slow and rhythmic and – I could tell from my vantage point – having to fight to slip through, into and away from her grasping, straining pelvic muscles. I watched as her perky, tight little cunt lips grappled and grasped at his cock as though they were alive with a mind of their own. It must have felt incredible for Tom, but having come once and come hard he seemed possessed of a newfound stamina. He continued his slow fuck without a trace of concern, only a look of immense contentment and gratification as he finally made this beautiful woman come for him. And as I watched his cock part her depths – his cock seeming immense and cruel against the tight, stretched, straining lips of her delicate little pussy – I thought back to when Libby had shown me the pictures of her getting fucked by her old boyfriend Glen; and I remembered wishing that instead of seeing Glen's pitifully small member impaling my beautiful friend, I wished that I could have been seeing my husband's cock instead, watching Tom's cock stretch out Libby's cunt-lips.

Isn't it wonderful when dreams come true?

Libby's orgasm, though it continued under Tom's pounding cock and his reach-around clitoral massage and my grasping of her breasts and pinching of her nipples, eventually abated to the point where she was able to get back into my pussy. She ate me, teased me, sucked and slurped and prodded until she once again had me back to orgasm – cunnilingus always gets me there super-quick, without fail – and soon the car was filled with my gasps and screams of overwhelmed, debased, mindless and utterly heedless orgasmic ecstasy, cumming with a fury even as Libby kept on cumming and my husband kept on fucking her, fucking Libby, fucking my best friend as I watched, as I watched and was eaten and came and came and came.

Eventually I had to push Libby's face away. I let go of her breasts and cried "stop! Stop!", I'd simply had too much and was literally in danger of swooning. "It's too much... too much... besides," I added, panting and heaving as Libby and Tom looked to me expectantly.

"Besides...?" Tom prompted, with a patient grin as he remained parked, still with his cock deep and hard up Libby's cunt.

"Besides: I want a taste of Libby," I finished, having finally caught my breath.

"Oh good," Libby sighed with relief. "Tom: you feel amazing... but ever since I blackmailed you into showing me your cock on Literotica, I've wanted only one thing: to see it, buried deep and hard, in Kelly's cunt."

We all thrilled to hear Libby – forever so prim, so proper, right-wing and conservative – actually enunciate such a dirty, delicious little word. "Really?" I breathed. "You mean... even before we started all of this, you wanted to see me naked?"

"That's right," Libby nodded, with a dirty huge grin. "All through my time on Literotica, I wanted to share it with you Kelly – you and only you. You're my best friend, and my sexiest friend too. I love your tits Kelly, your hips, your curves, your arse... seeing them on my computer, when you sent them to me and surprised the hell out of me, was a dream come true – as has all of this, everything we've done since then. And now: I want to watch Tom fuck you, Kelly. I want to see him in you, like you've seen him in me... like you've seen Glen in me... I want to watch Tom fuck you and make you come, Kelly."

"And like I've always said," Tom chimed in: "If I had the choice, I'd always want to come in you, Kelly."

"Well..." I said. "I guess we'd better get cracking!"

Get cracking we did. Libby and I swapped positions in a flash. I backed my tingling, burning hole up to Tom and even as Libby settled into position before me, spread-eagled in the middle of the back seat, I felt Tom's cock – hot and slick with Libby's cunt juices – pressing up against my entrance and, with no ceremony whatsoever, sliding suddenly into my depths. I could not help but arch my back, just as Libby had done minutes before. The man is a stallion, an absolute stallion, and there is simply no sensation quite like being fucked by my Tom.

As Tom began to service me, I had a good close look at Libby's dripping, glistening snatch. It was spread wide and shameless before me. The girl had actually kicked her feet up over each of the front seats, resting them either side of the headrests, and her pelvis was pooched over so much I could even see her small, puckering asshole set proudly on display too. Not exactly abashed, our Libby.

Having enjoyed the view, I poked my tongue out and, gently and gingerly, tasted Libby – just the most gentle, tentative lick of her sopping pussy, as though I was testing out a new and exotic flavour of ice cream on a cone. The deliberate delicacy of my tonguing had the desired effect: the very fleeting, tingling touch made Libby jolt electrically, and she gasped most mightily and gratifyingly. I savoured her taste – sharp and distinctive, but appealing, very similar to the aroma I had enjoyed whenever I'd had her riled up in times past. So I dived on in and got to work, stirring her up into a delicious little lather.

Between her moans, groans and encouraging sighs, Libby found time for a query: "So Tom," I heard her smile. "Whose cunt feels best?"

I rolled my eyes with a grin, even as I kept lapping up her ever-flowing juices. Only our bald-faced Libby could or would ask such a question of her best friend's husband.

"Well Libby," Tom began. "Let me start by saying: any man in this world would count himself most fortunate, to even be able to compare such a gorgeous pair of pussies."

I laughed aloud at that, even with my mouth full of twat. Good old Tom, diplomatic as ever.




Kelly's Liberation Ch. 07



"But to compare the two..." he went on, even as he upped his pace inside me, slamming home with a greater urgency, earning a new series of encouraging groans from myself. "Well, Libby's pussy is tighter – BUT," he added, sensing my oncoming protest, "to be perfectly frank: I find you a touch too tight, Libby. And I kept bottoming out in you, found your cervix more than once," he added, with an apologetic tone to make up for the critical commentary.

"That's okay," Libby shrugged, even as she panted against her approaching orgasm. "It didn't hurt... well, maybe a bit, but in a good way," she added with a wicked grin.

"As for our Kells, though..." and he paused to give me a possessive slap on the rump, which made me squeal slightly around my meal of dripping vagina. "Kelly's cunt is, and always has been, the finest fit I've ever found anywhere. No girl has ever gripped me..." and he gave me a thrust "...held me..." and he thrust again "...and driven me to total distraction, quite like our Kelly. She must be the mould from which I was cast."

Oh how I loved that man, right at that moment. I would have told him as much too, except I had Libby on the brink. She was nearly gone. She just like I must be totally defenceless against a good tongue-lashing. She was moaning and groaning in a new, more helpless fashion than I had ever heard out of her. I knew this was it. This would be the last, biggest and best orgasm for Libby, and so I gave it my all.

Or at least, I tried valiantly – I could feel Tom entering the final stretch now, he took a new and firmer grip on my hips as he pulled me back into his quickening, deepening thrusts, and the renewed attentions of his cock, the knowledge of his approaching orgasm, and the knowledge of Libby's approaching orgasm, brought me tumbling towards the edge myself.

We were all at it now, hell for leather. Libby grasped my tits as I had hers beforehand. She kneaded and fondled me, rolling and tweaking my nipples in an incredibly riling fashion. I reached up to press my finger down hard on Libby's engorged, quivering little clitoris and this kicked her up another notch. She threw her head back, her moans and groans turned into cries, building and trembling, tremulous and desperate, ever so high and feminine and beautiful...

"Yes, do it Kelly..." I heard Tom whisper. "Eat her out, Kelly. Munch on Libby's pretty little box... drink her up, drink her juices, make them flow, make them stream out of her. Yes Libby," he added, "hold Kelly's tits, squeeze them, knead them, pinch her nipples – she loves it! Pinch them hard..."

Libby took Tom's lead and she tweaked my nipples, squeezing and twisting them just hard enough to make me cry out exquisitely, the pleasure almost burning as my orgasm, building and brinking to incredible new highs, began to spill over...

Our orgasms approached from afar, threatening to dump down on us as though we were three helpless mountain climbers watching three massive avalanches approach from three separate peaks. The build-up to my own ultimate orgasm was an orgasm in itself: I was crying out through my nose, my lips locked in an unrelenting vacuum-seal upon Libby's snatch as I rhythmically thrust my rolled-up tongue cock-like into Libby's trembling depths, tonguing deeply, knowing I was troubling her silken-smooth G-spot with the very tip of my tongue as I brought her to a new height of gasps, moans, screams... Tom's cock kept on pounding into me, pounding into me, hard and fast and unforgiving as his own deeply-rooted second orgasm finally began to let go...

And with one ultimate, almighty, combined scream, we came. We came hard, we made the car buck mightily on its springs as we three all shared in a massive combined orgasm, joined cock-to-cunt and mouth-to-cunt. Tom's hot load sprayed hot and fast and deep inside me; Libby's juices squirted jet-like and unmistakable into my mouth, spray after spray after spray; and my own orgasm flashed and flared deep within me, seizing my entire body, mind and soul as the sheer litany of sensations, sights and sounds – from both ends – simply overwhelmed me, and we all came. We came together. We came as one.

I may have passed out once or twice. There are a few disjointed flashes in my memory from the peak of the event, as sensations I'd never known possible flowered and spiralled within, upon and around me. Eventually the sheer, paralysing, overwhelming pleasure began to ebb, to subside like some glorious golden tide, I began to regain my faculties and I immediately began to settle into a deep, luxuriant afterglow.

"Oh Kelly..." I heard Libby moan, ever-appreciative, ever grateful. "Oh Kelly... Tom... Kelly, thank you," I heard her whisper; I looked up, and was astonished to see tears in her eyes. "Thank you. That was so – so beautiful... thank you."

"Oh... Libby," I chastised, touched and gladdened to see the strength of her reaction to the climax of our adventures. "Libby, honey – come here!" I picked myself up and hugged her. We were skin-on-skin, breast-against-breast, but it was different now. It didn't matter so much. It was just a hug – warm, comforting and loving, and I simply held her and shared in her joy. Tom soon moved in to join us, and soon I found myself sandwiched most wonderfully – pressed tight, warm and tenderly between the two people I loved so dearly.

Eventually we separated, took our seats and drove home, not bothering to redress. I think Libby may even have strolled naked, and totally heedless, across her lawn and into her home when we dropped her off. Not like we had anything in the car to wear anyway...

And though Tom, Libby and I have since rejoined many times, in many positions and in many places, sometimes before a camera and sometimes not – that is the position I loved most and will always remember: safe in the arms of Libby and Tom, at the end of that long and awesome first week... that first week of my Liberation.