Just another Girl

She was my best friend. In the way that girls have best friends. We did things together, we shared our stories we laughed at other people, we watched T.V. together, we talked about everything, never kept secrets from each other, and told each other the most intimate details of our lives.

She lived downstairs. I lived with Hubby, she knew every single detail of my sex life with Him, she giggled with me about things Hubby and i did. She told me play by play accounts of the dates she went on. We were best friends. We joined the same gym, went together, came home together. She practically lived in our apartment. It was fun, always having her around.

We went to the gym together, we walked home talking, and in that way that girls that are friends can do, we held hands and skipped the 3 blocks home. We were warm from the workout, the perspiration dried and was left salty on our un-showered skin. It was springtime, the leaves were starting to bud on the leaves and we were happy. That electric tingle of spring was in the air. That warm clean air, that gets washed with a cool breeze. It scrubs the mind of all that is stagnant or stodgy. The kind of weather that makes you want to sing happy songs like the birds that have just returned to the park after a nice holiday in the southern tropics.

We got home from the gym, and flopped onto my big bed, the one i shared with my Husband. She and I lay there, tired and happy watching tv, making fun of whatever was on. I remember watching her. Staring at her, thinking how beautiful she looked. She was smiling, her hair was a mess, her body long and lean sprawled on the bed. I just stared at her, admiring her aesthetic. I watched her lips move as she spoke, i watched the swell of her small breasts in her tight tank top. I watched her, not critically, just seeing her, surveying how her body moved. i reached out and touched her face. The back of my hand sliding over her smooth skin pushing the hair from her cheek.

It was not awkward at all, not like it would be if she were a man, that I was friends with, it was just me, touching her. But then she turned her head, and looked at me. Our eyes locked, she was still smiling and so was I. I slid my hand over her shoulder to the back of her neck. Feeling the warmth of her skin, she moved closer to me, and she touched me. We stopped speaking, everything stopped. The air seemed to become thick and heady, and my fingers trailed over her body feeling the senusal form of her, as a blind sculptor might learn his subject. My fingers traced lightly over her jaw, feeling how smooth her skin was, then over her bare arm. It didnt feel wrong, it felt so right. We lay like that, just touching for hours.

Then it happend, i am not sure how, but my lips touched hers, and a crackle of electricity sparked through us. It was like a bolt of lightening splitting the spring air, which announces summer. It was hot and humid and bright. She tasted sweet and warm and soft and buttery and smooth and nothing like any man i had ever kissed. Not like a man at all. Nothing like it.

I still don't know if all women taste like her, but it's like the most narcotic drug. One that slows your blood, makes everything move slower. Our hands slowed on eachothers bodies, but as before it was just tender touching now it was with intention. Her skin, palpable in its sexuality called to my fingers. I leaned in and held her small breast, feeling it soft in my hand, i watched in rapt fascination as her nipple tightened in my fingers and i lowered my head to kiss it.

She didn't taste like anything that my lips had ever touched before. Her skin was salty and sweet. Her breast was smooth and the pink nipple was surprising to me, it tasted metallic, and smelled like her perfume. She was so feminine, so beautiful, so sexy. It was surreal. Our bodies moved slowly against each other. Grinding kissing, feeling touching, but there was no urgency as there is with a Man. When i am with a man, i feel his body and his cock separately. His cock speaks to me like another entity, throbbing and asking to be held.

Her whole entire body was like a cock one that i wanted to possess. I wanted to have her entirely.

It was just her, My friend, my best friend who i knew everything about. I knew how she liked to be touched by men, what her turn offs were, i knew it all. It was like i had the cliffs notes to what made her tick, and she had the same manual for me.