12 comments/ 19638 views/ 31 favorites My Pink Plaid Shirt By: SaphirBlack Her name was Heather Maxwell. She had gorgeous blond locks and the brightest baby blues ever to look my way. I was crushing on her hard. Like a sparkling sunset on a calm ocean, she only showed her face once a day at the most, but it was always a sight to behold. Yes, we worked in the same building, but I was always too busy in my cubicle balancing spreadsheets and proofreading ledgers to venture by the editors' room all that often. She was one of the best editors the magazine had too, which put her leagues above me. Besides, I did not even know if she was into women or not. And if she was, why would she go for a lowly desk jockey with short hair and horrible fashion taste. Seriously, my fashion taste was simply atrocious, which might be why I was left with the accounting work since this was a fashion magazine. It's not like I'm butch or anything. In fact, I have always been rather petite. My cup size was small little As at most, my hair was short because I never knew what to do with it long, I wore dorky glasses, and I typically dressed for comfort more than anything else. I'm not a tomboy but certainly not a girly-girl either. Most days I wore a pant suit. As much as I loved skirts, they looked better on other women than on myself. I tried to offset this with light pink lipstick sometimes, but I don't think that ever worked. Today was a bit relaxed for everyone though. There was cake out and everyone was getting ready to celebrate Samantha's upcoming wedding. Samantha was the head editor of the magazine, and she also happened to be my old college roommate. She was always a great friend and, when she found out I had fallen on some tough times with my finances—student loans will do that to a girl—she was more than happy to put in a good word here with the higher ups. I was actually serving as her maid of honor in the wedding, despite my reluctance. What did I know about weddings? I never planned to have one, considering when I was growing up you simply didn't hear of two women getting hitched. I suppose it was possible now, but still, it had never been something programmed into me like it was with so many other girls. Nonetheless, I was her best friend, so I had to woman up and get the job done. She had found a great guy and needed my help with making their ceremony into something special. "Mm, this is excellent cake," said Julie, one of my fellow cubicle mates, from across the way as she munched down. "Very much so," echoed Jimmy, another one of us. "You baked this, right, Jenny?" "Sure did!" I answered. I knew chocolate was Samantha's favorite. All of a sudden I felt soft arms wrap around me from behind. It was Samantha giving me a warm hug. "Thanks for the cake, hun. I can only hope the bakery does half as good a job with the actual wedding cake." "I'm sure they will," I replied, feeling a little uncomfortable as I felt Samantha's bosom press against the nape of my neck. She was always far more endowed than most, quite similar to Heather. She knew I was both envious of them and infatuated by them, and she would often tease me about it. As close of friends as we were, she could be rather annoying in that way. She had found out my preference early in college when she walked in on me with my girlfriend at the time. Ever since then, she made it a point to tease me with little flirtations. It was fun at first, but quickly became grating. Like teasing a mouse with a piece of cheese it can never have. "Very yummy indeed, Jen," said another familiar voice. I turned to see that it came from Heather who had been slipping her tongue out to delicately slide a piece of cake off her fork, between her lips, and into that sexy mouth of hers. Well, I am certain it was far more mundane than that. My imagination may have concocted some of that. But I swear, the way that woman ate a piece of cake was in itself a miracle to see. Needless to say, she turned my head, arousing a blush to my cheeks that would leave them lightly stained for the rest of the day. "You should cook more often. I'd love to taste more of what you can do," she added before walking away. Was she flirting with me? That had done me in. The sunset had blessed me a second time that day and I wouldn't soon forget it. That's what crushing does, I suppose. Just that tiny amount of attention set my heart a-flutter. It was not long after that that Samantha announced that all the women of the office were invited out this Friday, just two days from now, to a night on the town at her expense. It would be a sort of hen party with booze, bar hopping, dancing, the works. I had a duty to go, being her maid of honor, but I really didn't look forward to it until I heard that Heather had confirmed her attendance too. I went home to my apartment that evening fantasizing about her. She was in every thought to cross my mind, and my thoughts were whether mundane on average. But part of me was a bag of knots too. This was the rational part that said, "Jenny, what's it matter? You will spend the entire night avoiding her just like you do at the office. Stop getting your hopes up, silly girl." I had to concede that this was probably the part of me that was correct too, which was why when the day finally came, I did not really spend much time fixing myself up. That rationale part of me did not stop me from indulging a little though. I lay in bed all night thinking of the way her tongue had wrapped around that piece of cake, and the way her ruby red lips parted for it, as if kissing the sweet deeply. I have to admit that I got a little carried away with my thoughts. I slipped a hand down the front of my panties, legs spread, and began to touch myself while thinking of her. My pointer and middle fingers parted my folds to squeeze and tease my hardening clit as I imagined her lips and tongue doing to it what they had done to that piece of cake. It was not long before I was writhing beneath my covers in sweet orgasmic bliss. *** "Nice outfit, Jen" Samantha said with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. She was never one to hold back. "Yeah, sorry. Should have put more work into it I guess," I replied. The day had come and we were all out at our first stop: a new, premier club called Black Jet d'Eau, which was really just a bastardization of the name of a famous fountain in Switzerland in a poor attempt to sound hot and fresh. And there I was, leaning against the bar, wearing a silly light pink plaid shirt tucked beneath a soft black four-panel skirt. The skirt had been a last minute addition to try and dress up at least a little after finding out some of the places we would be hitting—I had originally planned just a pair of tight jeans in all honesty. Samantha really wanted to live it up tonight it seemed. "Yeah, well, only you could pull something like that off, sweetie," she giggled, rocking her tight black dress and somehow keeping from looking too silly with the bridal veil on her crown. "I don't think I would ever look good in something like that." I did not know whether to take this as a compliment or a veiled insult. Knowing Samantha, it was probably both. "I'm gonna join the others on the dance floor. You should come," she added, but departed before I could even respond. I just continued to sit there on my stool, though, sipping my Tequila Sunrise and watching the girls have fun. Heather was out there with them. They all danced with one another and a few had even paired off with guys they had just met. Heather was one of those few, in fact, bumping and grinding with some tall man with dark hair. It was heartbreaking to watch, confirming my fears for some time that she was straight as an arrow. That killed my mood for fun before it could even strike. So, the entire time we were there, I just sit at the bar sipping my drink, trying to pretend that was not Heather. After a couple of hours there, we all piled into the limo Samantha had rented and headed to the next location. There were eight of us total, so the limo was kind of crowded. Enough that we had to sit hip to hip. Samantha cracked open some Champaign and passed it around as I squirmed uncomfortably having been forced to sit directly across from Heather. She was the most beautiful creature there, and so help me, despite having my heart trampled back in the club, I still wanted her. Her long, smooth legs taunted me as they crossed one over the other. Like Samantha, she wore a tight black dress, but she coupled this with black sheer stockings leading up to what had to be heaven itself, and a V-neck dipping low into mountains of soft flesh that I so desperately wanted to get lost in. "Having fun, ladies?" Samantha called out. "Yeah!" A symphony of cheers responded. Already, some of the ladies seemed to be slurring their words. It was clear that tonight would be wild for many of them, especially since almost all of them were single themselves. That was one thing that made me feel a little better about myself. The second club was very much the same as the first. This one was, however, an old dog. It was called simply Hot Beatz and had a suffocating 90s theme. I was into my third drink by the time Samantha once again came over and took a seat next to me. "C'mon! Why are you being such a wall flower, babe?" "Sorry, Sam. I just don't know if I have the energy. Worn out from work and all," I replied. "Look, I get it. I've been busting your rump all this time making you handle my wedding planning," she admitted. It was nice that she could realize that, but it was hardly the issue. I didn't mind helping her. "That's not it," I said, twisting in my seat to look back toward the dance floor. "It's just, you're getting married and I'm stuck here single as always. It's just like back in college. Every week you seemed to have a new boyfriend, and I couldn't get any attention from anyone," I sighed. It was easy to be honest with her. I had broken up with my girlfriend not long after Samantha had caught us together. I still do not know what happened. I thought we were in love. But she just stopped coming around and started to ignore my calls. It was like she became a different person. If Samantha had not been there to be a shoulder to cry on, I think I would have went mad. Needless to say, I had been single ever since. Samantha bit her right cheek in a bit of a concerned pout, then leaned in and patted my knee. "Just get out there, Jen. I know some lucky girl is waiting eagerly for her chance. Trust me." There was an edge to her tone, though. Something I could not quite put my finger on. Something telling. Then, just like before, she hopped from her seat and quickly made her way back out to the dance floor, swaying to the music, arms in the air. The crowd seemed to swallow her whole before my eyes. "The hell with it," I muttered, downed the last bit of my drink, and then made my way out to the dance floor. It might have been the alcohol loosening me up a bit by that point, and likely was, but I felt that I deserved a serious slap in the face for being such a downer. So what if my crush was straight? So what if my best friend was settling down before me? I could still have fun, damn it! I was quickly swallowed by the crowd just like Samantha, losing myself in the ocean of bodies dancing to bad 90s pop. I honestly think it might have been "The Thong Song," but thankfully it was hard to focus on the music with all the cheering from the bride-to-be's direction. As I made my way toward them, a guy tried to dance up on me, pressing himself right up into my space and even putting his hands on my hips. I rolled my eyes and escaped between two other swaying bodies, both women with whom he seemed happy to forfeit his time with me to be with. This freed me to join the others, or so I thought. No sooner had I escaped this stranger did I encounter another just like him. This one was dressed a bit odd. He had on a strange little red bow tie like he was trying to be some sort of hipster but failing miserably. So, in other words, he was a hipster. And he was even more forward, grabbing my hips tightly and pulling me back against him as he danced. I could actually feel his erection poking me. I think he honestly expected me to just bend over then and there. I was horrified, but not very much surprised since this was what most the people had been doing out here. I just wanted to find my group and dance with them. I had no intentions to do any sort of dirty dancing here—at least not with a guy. But even as I tried to pull away, he seemed to not get that picture. Worse, even, was that one of his hands started to slide down my backside, cupping my ass. I turned instantly and slapped him. His eyes lit up in anger as he stared at me ready to lay some obscene curse on me for daring to not grind against him. "There you are! I've been looking for you," a voice sliced the space between us. I turned to see it was Heather. She looked at the man with a smile and continued, "sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to my friend here. I'm sure she would love to dance with you another time." She shot him a sarcastic grin, grabbed my hand, and dragged me away before the guy could react. I was in total awe of how well she handled the situation, and total shock at the fact she had just mysteriously appeared and rescued me. I looked up at her when we stopped, but she was craning her neck to peer around me, no doubt double checking to make sure the man had not followed us. I assumed he had not since she then turned her attention to me. "You need to be more careful. Some of the guys have had a bit too much to drink." I refrained from telling her that I probably have as well. Assured we were away from him, she started to dance and, out of instinct, I followed her movements. I noticed we were away from the rest of our group still though. "Thanks for coming to my rescue back there," I said, a little embarrassed to have had to be rescued in the first place. She didn't say anything else though. Instead, she danced, just as she had been doing all night. I was starting to understand the kind of woman she was. And it was more beautiful than I had ever imagined. This was just a natural thing for her. Her body seemed to flow with the music in a way that put all others to shame. Her curves accentuated each beat, her blond locks bounced up like vapor rising with the heat of the dance floor, and her hands, those soft finger tips, as I quickly realized, had not left me. Even though we were safely away from the drunken buffoon, she had continued to hold me, had in fact pulled me closer to her without me even noticing at first. That beautiful sunset that I only saw once a day was now touching me, burning me, and consuming me. Her hands slid up my arms, beckoning me to sway with her as they came to rest, locked together, around my neck, her own arms draped on my shoulders. I took the chance. I grabbed her hips and pulled closer still until our bodies kissed, my skirt rustling against her dress. It was amazing. I wished that she would have looked down at me, would have met my gaze and returned it, but she seemed very much in her own world. One of the things that always pushed me over the edge when I fantasized about her was imagining her baby blues staring back at me, staring deep into my soul as we embraced, as she touched me, as she kissed me, fingered me, ate me out, did everything my mind could think of to me. But I did not get that gaze. Not in that moment. It didn't matter. This was still a dream come true. I was dancing with her. With Heather. The most beautiful, sexy, amazing woman I had ever known. I could feel her hips moving against my own, her left leg sliding softly between my thighs, her ample bosom pressing to my modest chest. I forgot all about her dancing with the men from earlier this evening and focused only on this moment. I wanted to push things a little though. See how far she would go. So I slid my hands around and cupped her ass through her dress. She reacted perfectly by arching her body back against my hands and pressing into me all at once. This angel had a certain wicked streak and I was eating it up. This tight together, I could actually feel her upper thigh rubbing against my mound. It pressed the cloth of my skirt up against me, so, sadly, I had that and the white and pink silk panties beneath blocking me from the skin on skin contact I was craving. But it was still enough to make me squirm against her. And that is exactly what I did. I squirmed. Helpless to my lust. She must have known by this just how I felt toward her, and it would have been beyond embarrassing if not for the fact that she pressed, apparently deliberately, even harder against me. I was blushing up a storm. This goddess could no doubt feel my arousal against her leg, and she was indulging it. Purposefully creating friction as she danced with me. My hands dug into her ass cheeks tighter and I let out a whimper in her ear. "Heather," I whispered in bated breath, but she did not reply. Not with any words, anyway. She, instead, slid her own hands down to my hips. Their presence there elicited a thrill through me. She squeezed and guided my now rolling hips up and down her thigh. I took this as the final sign that she not only knew what she was doing but was as into it as I was. I tugged the back of her dress up, not even thinking about others seeing, and gripped her bottom directly through her panties. I must admit that I was curious what kind of panties she had worn tonight. I often wonder this. Lingerie was simply a weakness of mine. I was not disappointed either when I felt the lacey undergarments that so delicately molded to her round bottom. I wanted to return the pleasure. Since I was the shorter of us, I had to actually hike my leg a little to slide it high enough between hers to touch her. She was hot down there. Just as hot and wet as I was it seemed, and she was just as happy to grind herself back against my leg as I was hers. If people had not been too busy with their own dancing, they might have noticed that our dancing had devolved into what amounted to dry humping—only it was anything but dry. She was definitely the leader though, using her firm grip on my hips to decide the pace. She would drag me toward her and push me away. I did not have to grind. She was grinding me on her herself. I wanted to kiss her now, but every time I made the attempt, she would move her head to the side, leaving me breathing hotly into her ear. She moaned in mine in return. It was the sound of celestial bodies. And it made me melt. "Heather," I whispered again, feeling her pushing me close to the edge. I was, in fact, trembling like a weak, wilting flower buffeted by a strong gale. A moment longer and I would be screaming her name right in the middle of everything. She must have sensed this, because she pulled away. I wanted to cry out for more but managed to bite my lip instead. She finally looked in my eyes as she backed up. There was a wicked smirk on her lips, like she had enjoyed every bit of what she was doing but perhaps not for the same reasons as me. A smirk like she knew that my very soul yearned for it, and it was that that got her off. A smirk like she knew, even if she used me, I would let her. And I would. "I've got to hit the ladies' room. Wait for me. I'll be back," she said breaking her silence. And then she was gone. I wanted to follow her. I wanted badly to live out the fantasy to its fullest. But she had told me to wait, and I was powerless to her request. So I continued to dance a little, feeling a bit carte blanche now that I had come so close. That feeling dissipated as I realized she was not coming back. The next time I saw her was when Samantha had gathered us all up again and we were piling into the limo to hit the third and final club for the night. She, again, was seated directly across from me. My Pink Plaid Shirt Ch. 02: Saturday A sliver of sun cast its gaze through a slit in the blinds, cutting through the heavy atmosphere of sex to land directly upon my flushed face. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock, realizing this was the evening's setting sun. It was still Saturday, the day after that crazy bachelorette party of Samantha's. And I was still at her place. In her bed, in fact. Turning my head, I could see she was there too, curled beneath the white comforter, one knee bent. She looked angelic with that smile plastered across her dreaming visage. I could not bring myself to disturb her. Instead, I laid back, completely nude just like her, thinking about the events that had occurred since I woke up that very morning to find my new goddess, the perpetrator of my secret seduction, that night-time visitor, had in fact been my best friend. Not my crush, Heather. Everything, truth be told, had happened in a fever-fit of lust, so until this very moment, this interlude to the madness, I had not had time to really think of it. She was my best friend since college. She was getting married. She was not even the woman of my dreams. But none of that stopped my heart from racing. Several hours earlier, Samantha had whispered in my ear: "I still think the shirt looks better on you. Why don't you help me slip out of it, Jen, sweetie." That was all the invitation I had needed. I was still reeling from the revelation that standing before me, offering herself to me, was my old college roommate, not my dream girl Heather. I moved toward her, softly laying a palm on her knee, letting it slide slowly up her thigh as I leaned in. I remember how our noses almost touched, how I could feel her sweet breath buffet against my lips as it deepened. I began to unbutton my shirt from her body, to open it and reveal the two beautiful pillows of flesh buried beneath. I slid the pink plaid shirt from her shoulders, peeling it from her body for the most part. As each sleeve slid down her arms, I pushed them behind her back, planting her hands on the counter upon which she sit, leaving the shirt puddled around her wrists. I then leaned in and finally tasted her soft breasts, kissing both, slowly, gently, one at a time, letting my tongue caress her nipples. I can remember the way she shuddered, the sound of that amazing moan escaping her parted lips, her legs parting, wrapping around my waist, and pulling me closer in an intimate hug. I swear, I think we spent at least half an hour doing just that, me kissing, suckling at her breasts, her pulling and holding me close. I could hear her heart pounding in her chest. I could taste the sweet nectar of her perspiration. I could feel the heat generated from between her legs as the crouch of her wet panties pressed softly to my stomach. I had never felt closer to her than at that moment. What choice did I have, really? I had to return the favor, the treat she had given me the night before, right? I knew she was getting married. As far as I could tell, she loved her fiancé very much. I had not forgotten that simple fact even as we made love in the kitchen this morning. I had the excuse of not knowing it was her last night, of thinking it was Heather. But in that moment, as well as now, there was no such excuse. I was with a taken woman. I think part of me found that fact all the more exciting. I had never been with a taken woman. Especially one that, as far as I knew, had been in nothing but straight relationships up until that very moment. But there in the kitchen this morning, I had made a choice to do just that. I had danced my fingers up and down Samantha's side, resting them on her hips after having my fill of her supple breasts. I had needed more. And so I had started to trace my lips down, all while keeping my gaze turned up, just having to see her face. She had denied that last night, had prevented me from looking into her eyes. She would not do that anymore, I had determined. As I traced my lips down between her breasts, circling her small, cute little navel, I watched her, looked up at her, admired every gasp drawn from her lips, the way they puckered, the way she looked back down at me. Then I reached it. The sweet, wet spot between her legs, covered only by a thin layer of fabric that I made quick work of by pushing aside. The smell of her arousal alone was enough to send a thrill through me. So I attacked it. I devoured that sweet flower. But I did so in the way a lover would. My lips kissing her own, my tongue sliding up between them, peeling her folds to find her sweet, hard, little nub and toy with it. And toy with it I did. I flicked it with the tip of my tongue, I squeezed it between my lips, I moaned as I suckled on it. I did everything to it that she had done to me the night before, all while looking up into her eyes, watching all the contortions of her pleasure-filled face as I drove her to one orgasm after the next. *** Before I could think on it more, I felt the sleeping angel next to me stir. I looked over to see her turn and face me with half-opened eyes. "Mm, hello there, princess," she smiled. She had never called me that before, but I did not exactly mind. "Getting started without me?" I was a bit confused at first by this remark until I looked down and realized I had my hand between my legs steadily rubbing myself in slow circles. I had not realized just how into the memory of recent events I had dove, but it was apparently enough to enjoy it. A blush rose to my cheeks and I quickly pulled my hand away. Being embarrassed by this did not make sense. I knew that. I had made love to this woman. I had known her for years. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. But it was instinct. I had never been caught masturbating before. Samantha scooted closer, pressing her breasts against my shoulder as she cuddled with me. "We still have the rest of the night and all of Sunday for that," She said, kissing my cheek and resting her hand on my flat stomach. "I was thinking though. What about, well, your fiancé?" I was nervous to ask this question. She probably did not want to mention him. I was still not even sure why she had done this. My best guess was that this was just some silly one-time fling before she tied the knot. I think I would be okay with that, if only because she was my friend and I wouldn't want her getting hurt by doing this with some stranger, but my heart kind of ached at the prospect of being used like that even by her. Perhaps especially by her. "Like I said before. He doesn't ever have to know." "But, I mean, why me? Why not another guy? I thought you were straight," I said, immediately regretting it. I did not want to ruin what might have been a fantastic weekend. "I am straight!" She replied, sort of confusing me even more, though part of me was starting to connect the dots. "You are just my best friend, and, also, I knew you were lonely, so, you know, two birds with one stone sort of thing." She said, kind of making sense, but I knew no straight girl—no truly straight girl—would hook up with another woman so easily—not to the point that she actually played the role of seducer anyway. "So you and John are okay?" I asked. By this point she had, much to my dismay, pulled away and sit up on the opposing side of the bed. "Don't worry about it, Jen. I just need you here with me right now. I need you close. Can I trust you?" I quickly crawled over next to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and laying my head on her shoulder. "Of course, Sam, I'm here," I replied, softly kissing her neck. At this point, I had my legs on either side of her own, my breasts to her shoulder blades and stomach to the small of her back as I held her close. "I saw you and Heather dancing," she whispered, taking me aback for a moment. "We all did, but I think you were too into it to notice." Samantha turned her head a little to the side, just enough that she was probably able to see me from the corner of her eye. "I know you have a thing for her, and I'm sorry that I'm not her." My heart leaped a little, and I turned my head so I was no longer looking directly at her. If I had seen myself in a mirror, I would have seen how bright my cheeks were burning. It was just like having been caught with my hand between my legs moments ago. A secret part of me, the crush on Heather, had been made public. "That's another reason I did it, I think. You don't spend as much time at work with Heather as I do. She isn't so nice under the surface. I think you could do better, but that's not my place to say really. I just thought it would be nice if you weren't so frustrated all the time. We can all see it on your face, Jen, sweetie. I miss my old roommate who, even when single, would be so very optimistic." The way she talked almost made it sound like it was all out of pity. I cannot say I had ever been on the receiving end of pity-sex before. I still held out hope there was more to it than that. Especially since it had been far more than just one time. The first was last night, and maybe that was pity mixed with curiosity for her, but then what of the kitchen this morning? And what of the couch a few hours ago where she once again went down on me? And the many hours we have just spent in bed together until neither of us could keep our eyes open, until we were both beat from the sexual work out, until we had fell asleep in each other's arms? That was more than pity. But before I could reply, the soft buzz of her phone vibrated on the nearby lamp desk. She reached and picked it up. I could see John's face on the front screen. "Hi dear!" Samantha said as she answered the call, holding it to her ear, but making no move to pull from me. "How is it going? Yeah?" I could only half-make out what he was saying. It was something about having a good time with the guys. No doubt gambling considering where they were. "Yeah, me and the girls had a great night. No, no, nothing for you to worry about. We went out drinking, dancing, and then a lot of us came back here for an old fashioned slumber party." I think I heard him make some joke about pillow fights and make out sessions. "Don't be so crude. No, no. They have all gone home now. It's just me all by my lonesome." I was a little surprised she didn't say I was there. It would not have been unusual. She was my best friend after all, and I was in her bridal party. "Okay, yeah. I'm just going to take a shower and spend the rest of the evening relaxing. Love you too! Have fun!" And then the call was over. "Samantha, I should probably go," I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable now. I did not want to be the source of anyone's pain. I should have been stronger before and stopped her this morning. I should have simply grabbed my shirt and left. But she laid the phone next to her, grabbed my hands, and wrapped my arms more tightly around her. "Jen, stay, please?" Her happy façade from speaking on the phone had suddenly shifted into something else. How could I say no? There was something she was not telling me and what kind of friend would I be if I did not try to find out so I could help her? It did not help, either, that she slid my hand between her legs. "Sam..." I breathed into her ear as my heart thumped rather loudly in my chest. "Just hold me, Jen," she replied, using her fingers over mine to guide me between her folds. Soon I was making small circles around her clit all of my own free will. "Oh, Jen," she moaned, leaning her head back onto my shoulder. Her soft hair matted against my flesh. I kissed her neck softly and she finally released both my hands once she realized I needed no more encouragement. I was doing just fine with rubbing her sensitive nub myself now, moving my other hand up to caress her right breast, kneading the tender mound as I rubbed her. She spread her legs, forcing me spread as well. She was squirming back against me now, her beautiful, round bottom gyrating between my legs. Needless to say, I was incredibly wet, and was starting to squirm back, to roll my hips some so as to get any friction her bottom might offer me. But primarily I was focused on her. On her body. Her desires. Her pleasures. It was her moans that were exciting me the most. They filled the room more and more the longer we went. As my fingers pinched and tugged her clit, as they flicked and teased, as two of them finally penetrated her, the room filled with a sea of moans. A sea I wanted nothing more than to drown in. To dive into every trench and explore fully. "Jen, yes! Don't stop, please. No one has ever touched me like you," she gasped as I started to pump my fingers slowly into her, only picking up pace with time, letting her body ease into the motions. "Kiss me," she added, turning her head toward me, still laid back on my shoulder. I had to crane my neck to lean down at just the right angle, but when I did, and when her lips met mine, we both trembled. I felt her tense around my fingers, felt the vibrations of a powerful moan against my lips, and felt her hips arched strongly forward. She came right there in my arms a mere fifteen minutes after hanging up with her fiancé, and I was too aroused to feel a single ping of guilt. *** I looked at the clock. It was now approaching 8:30pm. We had only left the bed to take a shower together, where, predictably, we had made love again—this time with her on her knees between my legs as the hot water washed over us both. Other than that, we had not been very productive at all. We had not even eaten, and I think that was probably the only thing keeping our hands off each other right now. "Let's go out," Samantha said. "I am starving but I am so not about to make anything." She was never that great of a cook anyway. "And I don't really feel up for ordering in, you know?" "Okay. Where to?" I asked, far too entranced still to argue, even though I really did not want to get out of bed. As long as I was in bed, I could continue to pretend nothing else exited in this world other than us. Truly, though, she could have probably asked me to jump from a bridge right now and I wouldn't bat an eye. I'd only jump as long as she promised to be there with me. "I know a great Italian restaurant down on the corner of 5th and Davis. I hear they have great food," she said. "I'll pay. My treat for my special lady," she added. I guess I was her special lady now? I only wondered how special. And I knew the restaurant she was talking about. It was not casual at all. In fact, it was the kind of restaurant two types of people went to. Rich CEOs holding business meetings with likewise rich clients, and those looking to impress a date. "I don't really have anything to wear. I don't think my plaid shirt would work for that, or my skirt... and I think we have ruined my panties," I quickly added, hoping maybe she would decide ordering in would be better after all. "Don't worry. I have a closet full of clothes. I'm sure we can find something to fit you," she said. "Even panties, if you really must wear any." She shot me a playful wink and I couldn't help but giggle. She was swift to pull me to her closet, a rather spacious walk-in with dresses, skirts, shirts, pants, and coats of every level of dress lining the walls, from casual to romantic to business. I suppose I was not very surprised that she was quite organized either. She had always been the organized of us, one of the reasons she was so successful in editorial work. I was also not very surprised when she reached for the section of dresses clearly designed for more romantic evenings, just like this would likely turn out to be. "Here, try this," she said, holding a black dress up against my still naked body. It was slender and unlike any of the sort of clothes I was used to. I was never good at being overly feminine so when I looked at the mirror on the far end of the closet and saw the slender black dress in front of me, it felt like looking at an entirely different woman. "I'm not sure this is for me, Sam," I replied. I always wore more mundane outfits. Borderline tomboyish in nature. "Don't be silly. You would look great in it! I know you would. At least try it on, for me?" She shot me her best puppy dog eyes with pouted lips to match. Yet again I found myself unable to resist, so I nodded. "Great! I'm thinking it should fit. I know we have different sizes and all," she was clearly referring to our chest sizes more than anything else, "but this is an older number from my teenage years. I know. I know. I'm a pack rat. I hate throwing anything away, and I sometimes squeeze myself into my old outfits from time to time." "Well, I will try it, but that's all I can promise. You know I don't really do dresses." "But I also know you wished you could, so let me help you. If you don't like it, we can always do something else, kay? Besides, you looked dead sexy in that skirt yesterday. All the others were eyeing you up, you know. Men, women, Heather... me..." I blushed and nodded once more, then I stepped into the dress, pulling it up my legs, wiggling it over my hips and slipping my arms beneath the thin shoulder straps. It was tighter than I would have expected. Even the chest was snug. I could never have imagined Sam fitting herself into it, but I did not know her before college. No way she could have fit into it now though. It really did not make sense that she would have held onto it, but people do weirder things, and this closet was big enough to fit a lifetime's worth of clothes, so why not? She grabbed my shoulders and faced me toward the mirror. "See! You look gorgeous, Jen," she said. And, I had to admit, I did look pretty good. The dress actually accentuated my hips and, as I turned to the side and noticed, my bottom as well, giving me much more of a feminine shape that my normal clothes ever did. I would be the kind of woman I might go after. Okay, maybe not go after. I was never the forward type as my days spent lusting after Heather had proven. But I would certainly think of me. "We aren't through though," she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "What about you? What are you wearing?" I asked, but she seemed to ignore this question as she pulled out a case of makeup. I knew what was coming next. She was getting a little too into this, turning it into a genuine makeover. "Go sit on the bed. I want to see something." I did as she asked, walking back to the disarray of sheets and pillows that we had created earlier and taking a seat softly on the edge of the bed, both palms planted back to prop myself up in a lazy posture. That posture did not last. As soon as she walked in with several items of makeup tucked beneath her arms, she kneeled in front of me and tugged me up right. "Now be still. I'm going to make you look perfect for our date." "Date?" "Shh, don't talk. I can't put your lipstick on with your lips moving. Pucker for me." I puckered my lips out as she slid the pink lipstick across my lips, then I pressed my lips together to even it out and make them look full. That was about the extent of my personal makeup experience, but she wasn't done with me. She pulled out some mascara next and went to town. I was very much hoping she was not turning me into some clownish rendition of whatever her fantasy woman might be—strange to even think of Sam as having a fantasy woman. But I trusted her. After this—some blush, and some other things which, honestly due to my massive inexperience, I knew not the names of—she held up a mirror for me to look. I was shocked. As much makeup as she had used, I actually very much looked natural with just a soft shade of pink emanating from my lips and cheeks, and very dark blue around my eyes. "You like it?" "I love it," I replied, still amazed that the woman looking back at me was, in fact, me. My Pink Plaid Shirt Ch. 02: Saturday "Great. Just one more thing and then I'll get dressed and we can go. Stick out your leg," she said. When I did, she pulled my foot up and started to slide a black stocking on, starting at my toe and slowly sliding it up my calf, over my slightly bent knee, and up my leg, using my palms to flatten out any creases along the way until the lacy design of the top reached the end—which just so happened to be beneath my dress and oh-so very close to my still weak-for-her center. "Are stockings really necessary?" "You don't like them?" She asked. "Well, I mean, I think they look good on other women. I've seen you wear them and they, well, yeah, but," I was starting to stutter, doing my best to think of any logical reason to not wear them. "Yeah, they look good. They look sexy. They also feel good though. Here, give me your other leg," she said, actually grabbing my other heel and bringing it up to her lap before I could comply anyway. She started to slide the other stocking on, only this time she took her time with it, pressing her fingers more delicately along the curves of my legs, tracing the soft material of the fabric slowly up my leg. When she reached my thigh, she made it a point to slide her hands toward the inside, and it was then that I felt her lips upon my knee through the stocking. They were warm, temptingly so, and her breath seemed to roll up my leg as she kissed higher. Eventually she reached the end of the stocking, tugging the lacy design into place, but unlike before, she did not pull away. Instead, she kept kissing higher. She had to push the edge of my dress up for her lips to reach the top of my stocking, by which point I had resumed my lazy posture, leaning back, propped with my arms outstretched behind me. I spread my legs, awaiting the inevitable, growing more anxious as I felt her slide higher and higher. I could feel the heat of her breath against my pussy now. My breath caught somewhere in my throat. My eyes closed. "Sam," I whispered. "Jen," she breathed back right against my quivering center. She was starting to feel like a drug. It took merely a thought, a penetrating caress, a whisper of heated breath, and I was hers. This was more powerful than the crush I had on Heather had ever been. It felt more than just physical, even as much as the physical aspect had me wrapped around her finger right now. There were genuine emotions brewing deep in me that I did not yet know how to grapple, more less interpret. Years ago we had slept in the same room, shared almost everything, seen each other in every state of dress and undress possible, had even hugged and cuddled beneath a blanket during our scary movie marathons, but I had never thought of her quite like this. Just then I felt her pull away and pat my dress back down. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I wanted to reach out and pull her back in, but she had weakened me far too much for such things. "Okay, I really should get dressed now or we won't make it in time," she said, disappearing back into the closet and leaving me a mess. I wanted badly to finish what she had started. I could do it too. I could lie back on the bed, slide the dress back up, and slip my hand down for a repeat performance of earlier. But it wouldn't be the same as her lips. And I knew she was teasing me on purpose besides. She probably wanted me on edge. I was putty when on edge and she seemed to have discovered that quickly. When she finally came back out, she was wearing a long flowing red number that, unlike my tighter black dress, came down far past her feet and trailed behind her. It was a gown fit more for a ball than dinner, but I would not complain. She was a complete knockout. I especially liked the way it squeezed her breasts to show off her cleavage. "Do you like it?" I nodded. Of course I did. "I'm so happy. I left some black heels next to the closet door for you. As soon as you slide them on, we can be off on our date." I still could not believe this was happening. A date? I suppose typically the sex came after the date. But then again, the date typically did not involve an engaged woman with someone other than the person to whom she was engaged. I wanted to probe some more. But I also did not want to ruin this for the world though. It had been so very erotic so far and I sensed there was plenty more to come, but I was also her friend and couldn't just let her toss away her feelings. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted to ask her why she was doing this, making love to me, taking me on dates, all while her fiancé was gone and knew nothing of it. It did dawn on me briefly that maybe he did know. Maybe they had given each other free passes or something crazy like that. People did that sort of thing these days, or so I heard. Or maybe he found the idea of her being with another woman hot. I know some men are like that. But I had to imagine that she would have been upfront with me had that been the case. And she would not have lied about me not being there earlier when she spoke with him on the phone. After I slipped my heels on, we walked out the door. There was a cab waiting for us. She had apparently phoned for one at some point while getting dressed. The driver opened the door for us and I slid in first, followed by her. The ride to the restaurant was mostly quiet, as I dared not air any possible dirty laundry in front of a complete stranger. But she did steal a feel or two, stroking her hand up and down my stockinged thigh. I think I caught the driver glancing back at us in the mirror from time to time. I am certain he knew what was going on, but it did not go any further than a few strokes—too high to call innocent as they were. *** "We will both have the filet mignon, please," Samantha said, "with two glasses of the Quinta do Crasto." I thought we had already had enough to drink last night to last the next few weeks, but I wouldn't turn down expensive red wine. Besides, upon studying her face, I came under the impression that I had little choice in the matter. Samantha clearly had this all planned out in her head. I wondered for how long. The waiter left to put in our order and I stared amazed at Samantha. She smiled back and, while I knew deep down inside she must have been feeling her own perfect storm of emotions, she stayed calm and collective. "You look very beautiful, Sam," I said, a blush staining my cheeks even through the layers of makeup. "As do you, dear," she replied. We had never really lain such terms of endearment upon one another like this unless in jest. She had called me dear before, but never with the weight of attraction attached. "I don't want you to pity me, though," I said, not really knowing what else to say. "I know I am lonely, but you don't need to pity me." "I'm not pitying you, Jen. I would never pity you. There is more to it than that," she replied. "Like what?" I narrowed my eyes. "Like it doesn't matter. I'm engaged to a wonderful man. And you are my best friend. Moreover, you have been helping me quite a bit with the wedding planning. You helped me with the dress, with finding the right bakery, with setting the date, sending the invitations, and so much more. I needed to reply you." "You don't have to repay me with dinner and sex! Dinner would have been just fine," I retorted, a bit louder than I had intended. A few sideways glances shot our way. This upscale restaurant was in just the wrong neighborhood. They probably were not used to seeing two women on a date. Moreless two women on a date talking about sex. In response, she lowered her voice. "Jen, just believe me when I say it's more complicated than that. I think too highly of you to treat you like that." I was starting to have my doubts though. Still, her voice had a certain sincerity to it. I finally grew bold enough to pry deeper. I needed to know just what it was. Why was she beating around the bush. I was terrified though at the same time. Nonetheless, I put my big girl panties on, grabbed her hands from across the table, held them in my own, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Tell me, Sam. Tell me what it is then. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of our time together in your arms. You are amazing. You have always been amazing. And I love being with you. So please, tell me what it is." She looked down at the table, refusing to return my look. There was such deafening silence that I thought for a moment I had died and was watching the events unfold from some spectral form across the room. But she finally looked back up at me and broke my heart. Her cheeks were softly glistening with the smallest of tears running down them. Silent tears wept for reasons still unknown to me, though not for long. "I'm afraid, Jen. I am terrified of getting married. I thought I loved him, and I do! I do! But the thought of spending my life with a man is haunting me in ways I never would have thought. He deserves the best and I don't think that is me. I don't think I am cut out to be wife material. I cheated on him for God's sake! I cheated with you! My best friend! I saw you dancing with Heather and it seemed so free, so detached from responsibility and filled with lust and wonder that I needed to experience it. That's why I snuck into your room last night. That's why I seduced you this morning. I tasted my freedom, Jen. I don't know if I can let it go." I was suddenly struck by memories of our college years again. She had been sort of the wild girl, always dating a new guy every time I turned around. Until John came along, none of them had seemed serious at all. She would always come back to me after a break up and we would indulge in ice cream and bad romantic comedies. I sort of missed those days. Just then the waiter came back over with our glasses and the bottle of wine. "Thank you. Can you give us a minute, please?" I asked him. "Certainly, madam." He was quick is fleeing, seeming uncomfortable. I grabbed my napkin and handed it to her so she could wipe her cheeks. "Sam. I understand. If you are afraid, you shouldn't hide it. It is natural to be afraid. But I don't want you to throw away your chance at happiness. You're my friend and I love you." "I need to go to the bathroom," she said then. I could tell that she had another burst of tears welling up behind those soft, worried eyes. "Okay, I'll go with. We'll get you cleaned up." I quickly hopped from my seat and lead her toward the back corner of the restaurant and into the lady's room. Thankfully it was empty. It was also a rather clean restroom that even had a comfortable pink-cushioned bench outside the few stalls. It rather matched the restaurant. "Come here," I said, pulling her close into a hug, patting her back. We stood there for at least five minutes just hugging, her face buried in my neck crying. But eventually the sobs died down and her breathing slowed. "That's better, right?" I said, pulling her from my shoulder to get a good look at her. Her makeup was starting to run a bit but she somehow made even that look beautiful. Then she did it. Without a word, she kissed me. Deeply. Her tongue penetrating my lips before I could react. By which point, what reaction could I give other than to part my lips and accept it? Her attack was almost bestial as she pushed me back against the sink with her hips alone, grinding them against my own hips. There was as much turbulence in her motions as in her emotions now. I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away, seeing nothing but lust in her eyes. "Sam! What are you doing? We're in public!" "I don't care. You're all that makes sense right now," she practically moaned, taking full lead, grinding into my hips with enough force now to push my bottom up onto the sink. "I want you Jen. Just be mine for now," she said, sliding her hand once again up my legs, but this time not stopping. It was a good thing I had forgone the panties, because I don't think they would have survived. Her fingers were at my wet folds immediately, and my head was back against the mirror, eyes closed, mouth agape, waiting for that special touch, that gentle stroke in just the right direction. And then it came. Direct contact. "Oooh!" I moaned when I felt it, her fingers circling and then flicking my clit. I did not have time to enjoy it long before she was pushing my dress up again and bending down. The sink was too high for her to get on her knees, and it would not have been good or easy to do so in that red dress of hers anyway, so she had to bend at the waist to get to her prize. And she did, pushing her bottom up behind up and giving me a wonderful view of her feminine curves. Her head was quickly between my legs. I bit my bottom lip hard and forced myself to keep looking down at her. I was greeted by her deeply hypnotizing eyes looking back up at me and her cute nose poking against my little bud, all as he lips and tongue were buried into my wetness. There was an intimacy in her gaze that reassured me that she wasn't just using me. I wasn't just some fling. I knew it somewhere deep down from that gaze alone. But I also knew that she likely did not realize it yet herself. I grabbed a handful of her hair just as my hips buckled up from the intense pleasure she had forced upon me. "Sam, oh God," I moaned out, locking my ankles up and around her back. This had to be the fifth time we had done it today and here she was again, already so close to making me orgasm. It was magic. She seemed to know my body better than even I did. This, and the thrill of doing it in the restaurant's bathroom where anyone could walk in at any moment, in a restaurant with such high standards nonetheless, was all too much. "Cum for me, Jen. I want you to. Right here. Right now," she said, pulling her lips away just long enough, but placing her fingers where they had been to ensure I had not a moment's rest. When her lips and tongue returned, I could feel her tongue probing in, penetrating my folds and twisting around inside me. That, combined with her demanding need for me to explode, was enough. My eyes rolled up and I started to spasm. I swear that I must have gripped and tugged her hair hard enough to rip it out as I came right there against her beautiful, makeup-smeared face. But thankfully every beautiful strand was intact when she pulled away—which I might add she did not do until I almost fell from the sink a trembling wreck. She pulled me close as we both stood finally. I was thankful no one had walked in on us. Quite possibly because this was merely a quickie, I realized. It had seemed to last forever during, but as I came to my senses a bit more, it becomes clear she had only needed a few minutes to shatter my world. It was astonishing how intense a mere quickie could be with this woman. "Jen. I want you to do me a favor," she said before leaning in and kissing me deep enough that I could taste myself on her lips. "What? I'll do anything for you, Sam," I replied, not realizing just how out of control she had made me. "Be my wife." My heart stopped. I pulled away and looked at her. My face must have said it all, because she quickly added another note to her request. "For Sunday, I mean. Show me what it is like living a married life. I need to know before John returns. I need to know before I walk down that aisle to him. Before I give up my life to be his. If it is not for me, I need to know now. Just, be with me. Be my wife. My spouse. For just one day." "I'm not sure that is a great idea," I said, suddenly getting the picture. I realized then how much I liked the idea of being her wife though. And from that realization came the one that I was truly falling for her. I did not know if I could ever recover from any of this should she marry John. "Please, Jen. You said you wanted me to be happy." I did and I do. "You said that, remember?" Of course I remembered. "Live just one day with me as if we were spouses. Make me a happy woman, Jen." "Sam, I, well, don't know what to say." In that moment I was afraid I would not be able to say anything. My heart was seconds from exploding out of my chest. "You are my closest friend. Yes, I want you to be happy. Yes, I will be your wife." It was settled then. Starting now until Monday morning when John would return, I would be Samantha's pretend wife. I would help her try the married life on for size. I was not entirely sure what that meant just yet. Considering her ravenous appetite for the sensual, it certainly meant more blissful orgasms, and while it might have been selfish of me, that was very much a primary factor in my decision to say yes. The other factor? I was starting to love her in more ways than I ever had as a friend, than I ever had anyone else. Heather was a foreign name in my head now with no place at all. I was afraid I was heading for the worse kind of heartbreak though. The kind one suffers with the simultaneous loss of a lover and a friend, that wonderfully rare combination that creates the perfect soulmate. But I had hope. For what, just yet, I did not know. It was unclear. As unclear as anything else was. To be continued... My Pink Plaid Shirt "Alright, girls, one more! Let's make it the best!" Samantha screamed. "Yeah!" Again, she was met with cheers. This time more of a cacophony than a symphony. Some of the girls were clearly too wasted for their own good. I had downed a few more shots since my little foray on the dance floor myself. I needed something to get my mind off of Heather. She had left me a bit on edge to say the least. I looked across at her and found she was smiling at me. Or, at least, I thought she was smiling at me. It was hard to tell. She could have simply been smiling at the rest of the group, as she quickly turned to chat with the girl next to her. One thing she did though had to be for me, or so I thought. She uncrossed her legs. It was just for a moment, but it was long enough to tell she was not wearing those lace panties I had felt before. She had taken them off at some point. More teasing. Before long, we were at the final stop for the night. This club was much smaller than the rest. I had not heard of it before. The neon sign out front read only "Dance." It lived up to its name too. Inside was one giant dance floor. The bar lined the right most edge and had no stools at all. So you could order drinks but you were always on the dance floor even when you had them. In other words, I would again be forced to the floor. And that is just where I found myself. Right there with the entire group, dancing next to Samantha and some others. Energy still somehow high. Heather was there too, but a few bodies away sadly. I could barely see her between everyone else, though I did notice more guys dancing closer to her than the others. It made me start wondering if she had just been toying with me. Or maybe she was toying with them? For all I knew, she toyed with everyone. That could simply be her thing. It was not like I actually knew her at all out of the office, and I barely knew her in the office. At least I had managed to grab a drink on the way in to help take my mind off things. It would have to be my final drink of the night though, because I had become more than a little tipsy at this point. Somewhere along the way, the top couple of buttons of my pink plaid shirt had come undone. The perspiration gathered along my neckline had dripped down my chest to leave a glistening sheen on my skin. I was still hot and bothered from before and wanted desperately to be near Heather again. No matter my efforts, though, she remained distant. Every time I tried to slip near her, someone would dance in front of me, or she would drift farther from me. I eventually gave up in frustration. Thankfully our time at this club was much shorter lived than the others. I think everyone was starting to grow weary of the fun save for two or three girls. I only say this because when Samantha gathered us all up again, I noticed a few missing. When asked, she told me they had found other rides home. Lucky, in other words. They would be getting some action. There were only five of us in the limo now. Thankfully Heather was one of the ones to remain. I would have thought that she of all people would have been one to vanish after what she had demonstrated tonight, but maybe I had misjudged her. Maybe the moment we had together was genuine after all. She was smiling at me again, I noticed. I was very confused by her. She either wanted me, wanted to toy with me, or I was in fact drunker than I thought and had been hallucinating it all. "Alright, ladies, I have one more idea," Samantha spoke, interrupting my thoughts. "I didn't pay the limo driver enough to last all night, and I know most of you will need a cab, but why don't we end this night with a good old fashioned slumber party!" I was not at all amused. I leaned over and whispered, "wouldn't you whether just spend alone time with your fiancé?" "He isn't home all weekend though. He and the guys went to Vegas to celebrate. Don't be such a spoilsport, Jen. It'll be fun," she said. I rolled my eyes. "Besides, maybe you'll get lucky," she then added, teasingly giving me a nudge. It dawned on me that maybe she knew something I didn't. Maybe she had seen Heather and me, and maybe she had spoken with Heather. Did Heather stick around for me? Did she actually like me like that? Was this my friend's way of playing cupid? I supposed anything could be possible. We arrived at Samantha's house before I knew it. It was a modest two story, three bedroom, two bathroom house. Nothing special, really, but large enough to show that she and her fiancé had been successful in their chosen careers. There was a below ground cement pool out back with a large patio deck, but all of that was covered up for the incoming winter season. I am not sure exactly what Samantha had in mind for this little slumber party of hers. Knowing her, I am certain it involved popcorn, bad horror movies, and gossip. She had never really grown up all that much. She and I had similar evenings together back in college. It was fun, no doubt, but for me it was no substitute to being able to cuddle up with a lover instead. I think she always knew this, but she tried her best. She would always try to schedule time for the two of us like that. I think she just did not like seeing me being lonely. For a short period, we all crashed in the living room. Some on the black leather sofa, some of the carpet. Heather was with the former and I the latter. Most of the talk involved the various men they had flirted with, Samantha's upcoming wedding, how amazingly lucky she was to have found her handsome fiancé, and other such things. In other words, I tuned it all out. We decided that since there were two guest bedrooms, we could split it up so two of us could use them, one could use the couch, one could use the floor, and Samantha could of course use her own bedroom. There simply was not enough room for everyone to crash on the floor of the living room. Thankfully, I did not draw the short stick on that one. I was granted one of the guest bedrooms. When I learned that Heather had the couch, though, I sort of wished I did draw the short end. I would have loved nothing more than to sleep on the floor next to her. C'est la vie, though, as the French say. That is life. As I soon learned, though, that would not be the end of my night. After everyone had decided to turn in, I stumbled to my room, exhausted and still woozy from the drinks. It was a rather dark room even after I had managed to find the switch for the desk lamp. It was one of those rooms, in fact, that only had said lamp. There was no ceiling fixture at all. I could see why they chose to just use this as a guest room. Hooking my thumbs in the waist of my skirt, I slid it down and off, pushing it to the corner. My pink plaid shirt came down only enough to cover the top half of my panties, leaving a small triangle visible in front and a healthy portion of my ass visible in back. I climbed beneath the sheets, wrapping myself warmly in them and rolling on my side facing the wall. I hit the lights, turning them off and closing my eyes. It was not long before I was out, off somewhere in a wonderful dream where I was back on the dance floor with Heather. There we were grinding again. Only, instead of her running off to the bathroom, she had twisted me around and pulled my ass firmly back against her lap. She slid her hand slowly down my stomach and over the front of my skirt as we swayed to the bad 90s pop again. I could feel her palm pressing against me through my skirt and panties, making sure my sensitive little mound would have no choice but to squirm. I reached back and slid my hands up her sides, touching every inch of her heavenly body that I could reach from the angle. But she was possessive, dominant. And I was hers to control. She wasted no time. The dream would jump ahead to me pinned face first to a dark wall. I could feel the heat of her body behind me, the heat of her breath against my ear, and the heat of her sex grinding softly against my ass. She had my skirt up by this point, and her hand was down the front of my panties, fingers spreading my folds and rubbing my clit. I was trembling again. I was rolling my hips back against her. I was moaning her name. I was, in shorter words, putty in her hands. It was when I felt a finger slide into my quivering pussy that I realized it was not a dream. My eyes opened halfway, seeing nothing but the dark wall in front of me. The warm body grinding against me from behind was all too real. The ample bosom pressed to my back side was too much. Our passions seemed to finally explode. I know mine did. I was already in the throes of an orgasm and she had only just slid a finger into me. I moaned out, but she quickly covered my mouth, surely not wanting to arouse the other girls. She did not stop though. Even as I shook in pleasure, she stroked her finger in and out of me, joining a second finger with it. The sweet penetration via her digits made me part my legs for her. She never stopped grinding against my ass either, rubbing herself off on me. I loved the sensation. There was something so intimate and yet naughty about the whole act. I wanted to turn and kiss her. To look into her eyes as she fingered me. To hold her face to face. But she did not allow it. Just like on the dance floor, she demanded full control of me. I had to admit though, it was easily forfeited to her. I wanted to be hers. I wanted her to dominate me like this. As soon as she started using her thumb to rub my clit in synch with the increasingly hard finger bang she was delivering, I began to writhe back against her like some needy little slut begging to be owned. I could feel her lips curl into a smile against my ear lobe moments before she bit it. This would not be enough for her though. Fingers still in me, she started to slide down my body. I naturally fell into place on my back as I felt her work her way under the covers. She went fast enough for me to miss locking eyes with her like I so very much wanted to do. But she gave me no time to attempt this as she quickly buried her face between my legs. I threw my head back instantly without even thinking, actually hitting it painfully hard against the headboard. I noticed the ache very little though as she expertly twirled her tongue around my hard little bud and hooked her fingers inside of me to spread me further and rub against areas I didn't know could be reached. My hips were bucking against her beautiful face. I reached down for her head, but had to feel my way over the covers as she had vanished completely beneath them. "Yes," I cooed, finally finding her head to hold it tightly to me. I was already close to a second orgasm. When she removed her fingers and snaked her tongue out between my folds, hitting my clit now with her nose, I lost it again. I was in a fever of pants by the time she finished down there. The way she had went at me left me wondering just how ravenous this woman's appetite could be. If I was a toy for her, then so be it. I would be her toy. I would be her one-night stand. Please, just don't let it stop, I thought to myself. But this was nothing like the rhythmic sway of her dancing. I seemed to bring the beast in her out. My heart fluttered as I felt her sliding up my body, leaving a trail of soft kisses on my flesh as she went. I would soon get to look in her eyes! It would be amazing! I just knew it would. It had to be. They were so beautiful. To peer into them during this sort of heated intimacy would make me the happiest woman ever. So when she paused to start unbuttoning my shirt, I sighed a little. But that was okay. If she wanted to taste the rest of me, I was in no position to stop her. One by one, she undid each button from the bottom up until my entire torso was revealed. I watched her blanketed head move up to my small, pert breasts, and I shook when I felt her lips lock around, first the right, and then the left. She suckled them until my nipples were nice and hard, to the point that a simple flick with her tongue could make me squeal with delight. One after the other, she teased them, twirling her tongue slowly around them. Finally she began to move higher again, but before her head peaked out from under the blanket, her hand did. She lightly gripped me by the jaw and pushed my head to the side. I couldn't see her. Instead, I again felt her. Her lips sliding up my neck, locking around where my artery lay quaking beneath my flesh. She sucked my neck like a horny schoolgirl, leaving her mark on me. My pulse quickened and my head grew hazy. I closed my eyes and held my breath, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her body tightly to mine. When I went to turn shortly after she was finished, I found that she had other plans still. I could only make her shape out—always such a lovely shape I thought to myself—as she once again grabbed my hips. She forced me to roll over onto my stomach. I did not know what she had in mind now but as far as I was concerned she could do anything she wanted. She pulled me up to my knees so that my ass was in the air. It was only from moving around like this that I finally realized what she had done with my panties. At some point during the whole episode she had slid them down to my ankles, but she had left them there. She could have easily removed them completely, but she seemed to want them right there at my ankles. She demonstrated similar skill as she reached up and pulled my pink plaid shirt from me too. She was proving rather deft at removing my clothes. I was completely nude for her now, though I still felt she was in what seemed to be a t-shirt and panties herself. I could feel both as she angled herself just so she could press her wetness against my ass cheek. She ground herself against me, letting me feel the soaked fabric sliding up and down as she dry humped me from behind. I'd never let a woman do this to me before. I always thought it was something for straight women, but as she reached between my legs and slid her fingers into me again, pumping them in and out to match the rhythm of her humps, I suddenly realized just how fun such a position could be. It made me feel like I was completely owned by her. My body belonged to her fully and was there to be her toy the way those men on the dance floor had been her toys. It was mind numbingly hot. I instantly got into it, rolling myself back against her thrusts, letting her fuck me from behind. Encouraging her to fuck me even harder. And she did. I had to prop my hands against the headboard to keep from slamming into it as she took me. She started pounding her fingers into me as hard and deep as she could, grinding her heated pussy against my ass cheek the whole while. I could finally hear her moans start to escape and knew by that and the fact that she was trembling now after each grind that she was close. Soon she reached out and wrapped up a fistful of my short hair, pulling my head back hard. It hurt but it turned me on so much at the same time that I did not mine one bit. I then heard a gasp from behind as she slammed her pussy against my ass once more, driving her fingers deep in me again and again. We both started to spasm against each other in dual orgasms. My mouth hung agape in a perpetual moan. She eventually released my hair and allowed me to collapse beneath her. She pulled her fingers out of me and collapsed on top of me. Our hips were both still rolling against one another's as we rode our wave of pleasure to the very end. She brought her fingers up to my lips and I instinctively sucked them clean of my juices. I had wished it had been her juices, but I would settle for this. That was the last thing I recall before blacking out completely. I imagine she was on top of me for a good portion of the night, but when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. And when I looked around the room, I noticed that my shirt was too. My panties were still around my ankles and my skirt was still on the floor, but my pink plaid shirt was completely gone. She had taken it. I looked at the clock on the table and noted that it was already noon. Without a proper shirt, I couldn't just walk out of my room. Well, I could, I suppose, but I really didn't feel like flashing my tits to everyone who might still be there. Especially since I probably had a "just been fucked" look still on my face. I didn't exactly want to out Heather either, so my thinking was to remain in the room and text Samantha. So I did just that, sending Samantha a quick text: "Hey, um, have you seen Heather?" My figuration was that Heather took the shirt as some kind of trophy. After the erotic dancing and the wild sex, she had clearly proven to be the type of girl to see me as a conquest of sorts. I was not entirely sure how I felt about this. Part of me felt used while another part felt ecstatic. It was a little heartbreaking to think about, but I was hoping it meant she was as into me as I was her. "No, why? I think she left with the others." Samantha's reply read. I was the only one left it seemed. That was good. I did not mind if Samantha saw me like this. She had before, after all. We were roommates for four long years. I pulled my panties up and left the room. No reason to slide on the skirt. It would look silly without a top of some sort. I then made my way into the living room looking for Samantha. "Samantha? You in here? I was hoping I could borrow a shirt," I called out, walking through. But I did not see her at first. I did, however, smell the aroma of pancakes grilling in a skillet from the kitchen. So I headed that direction. That was when I noticed Samantha on the opposite side of the room. She was sitting on the edge of the counter. My heart skipped a beat. "I'm sure I could loan you one," she replied with a wicked smile. There she was. Samantha. My best friend in the whole world. The girl getting married in less than a month whom we all had just spent the entire night celebrating with. And she was wearing my pink plaid shirt. She slowly spread my legs a bit, giving me a clear sight of her pink satin panties. "You just need to return a favor or two." "It was you," I mouthed more than spoke. But she seemed to be able to read my lips, because she hopped off the counter and made her way over to me. "Did you think it was someone else, sweetie?" She was standing in front of me now. Her eyes fluttered as if in feign innocence. "But... what about John?" That was her fiancé. I wanted to ask so many other questions, primarily just what the hell she was thinking, since when was she attracted to women—more less me—and had she planned this all along. But all I could do was ask about her stupid fiancé. "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him. Besides, we have all weekend, the two of us," she slid around me, tracing a finger around my collar bone as she did. I stood there stunned. Once behind me, she grabbed my hips hard and pulled me tightly back against her. I could feel her bosom pressed against my shoulder blade. It had definitely been her. She then quickly slid a hand down between my legs, pressing her palm firmly against my over my panties. I shuddered. I had never seen her like this. I had never thought she could be like this. But I was instantly aroused by it. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I still think the shirt looks better on you. Why don't you help me slip out of it, Jen, sweetie." That marked the start of a rather unexpected weekend, followed by a strange series of misadventures with the woman I once only thought of as a friend.