Busy Fingers

byOtazel©

Hayley and I first met when she and Mike moved in next door with their children almost nine years before. Paul figured it would be polite to invite our new neighbours around for 'get to know you' drinks, and firm friendships were forged between us all on that very night. Mike and Paul found they shared the same slightly dry and ironic sense of humour, an obsessive love of all things automotive, and the same desire to sit on wet river banks and try to drown worms, and so they became buddies on the spot, while of course Hayley and I shared the same affectionate tolerance of our spouses' habits.

As for the kids, well both Hayley's twin boys and my own son, Andrew, soon seemed to take it for granted that they had two mums and that both houses could be called home. It was difficult, if not at times impossible, to keep them apart long enough to eat, something that occasionally resulted in the crafty little horrors enjoying two dinners. Apart the usual tiffs, when kids swear that their former best friend is now their most hated enemy, their friendships were as solid as those of their parents and seemingly heading for being just as long lasting. They were always together and with only seven months between them they could almost be mistaken for triplets, except that Andrew's hair was just one shade of blond lighter.

Because of the close bonds between our children, both juvenile and adult, it would have been impossible for Hayley and me not to be friends even if we had wanted it, which of course we didn't. A couple of years older than me and naturally more assertive, Hayley became like a surrogate older sister to whom I could spill all my worries and heartaches and who would burden my shoulders likewise.

The strange thing is that, even though she is the pushier of the two, she is physically so much smaller than me. She has always reminded me of a little blonde pixie, just clearing five foot tall and with a willow wand figure and a cheeky face, she was like a real life Tinkerbelle with added glasses. She seems so delicate, far too delicate to have the iron determination and resolve that I've seen in her on occasion, and in fact have relied on more than once. She turned into my best friend, my buddy, and a very good one too.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mean that we lived in each others pockets or wandered in and out of each others homes without so much as a polite 'anybody home?' before entering, but we became very close even though we maintained our mutual privacy. That is, until one Sunday when she and I were left alone because the men-folk decided to get all fatherly now that the kids had all become officially teenagers, and take all three on their first fishing expedition. They would be gone all day and well into the evening and so it seemed natural that Hayley and I would also spend the day together.

When I called around I found the strains of Bill Haley's 'Rock around the clock' blasting from the open window and it took several knocks and calls before I finally got her to answer. She looked different somehow, but I put that down to a new slim-fit white top and tight pale blue jeans. As usual I was in old grey jogging bottoms and a loose shirt. Not the most elegant attire, I'll admit, but it fitted my laid back mood.

"Sorry Sue." She apologised. "I've just come across some cd's that Mike put together to play in an old car years ago. I bet we haven't played these since the twins were little."

"Now that I can believe." I told her as Fats Domino began to sing of Blueberry Hill.

"We used to love rock and roll." She grinned. "Music from our parent's time, this is, but I still like it."

"So do I." I told her truthfully. "Seems to just fill you with sheer fun, doesn't it."

"Can you jive?" She asked suddenly.

"Well, yes, but not very well." I looked at her tight stone washed jeans. "And you'd better be careful if you're going to jive in those.

"I don't know why not, they always used to. Let's try anyway." She jumped up and rolled up the rug before turning to me expectantly.

Her enthusiastic grin and extended hand were all it took to persuade me, and we spent the next forty minutes spinning and twirling to the sounds of Elvis, Little Richard, Chuck Berry and all the other greats of the late fifties, laughing like drains at our own antics and wondering if we would get ourselves committed if anyone saw us.

Eventually the cd ended, and the years started had to tell anyway, so two thirty-something teenagers collapsed giggling and panting side by side onto the supple brown leather of her sofa.

"Phew!" Gasped Hayley. "I'm thirsty after that, how about you?"

I nodded between breaths and she bounced lightly to her feet once again, leaving me wondering at her stamina as she bent over the player to change the disc on her way to the kitchen.

"The trouble with Mike is that he wasn't all that good at labelling. There are a couple of discs here that don't give even a hint of what's on them." She waved a pair of home recorded cds at me before slotting one of them into the player. "Never mind, let's play them anyway, that way we'll find out."

As she straightened the unmistakable sounds of 'Tiger Feet' issued from the speakers.

"Yeah, that'll do." She headed for the kitchen, throwing a comment over her shoulder. "Must be the seventies cd that he thought he'd lost."

Now, when Hayley had spoken of needing a drink I had images of a nice hot morning coffee, or maybe even tea, but she came back with two glasses in one hand and a bottle of white wine trapped under her arm, waving away my unspoken protest with a quick imperious flick of her other wrist.

"Yes, I know." She put the bottle and glasses down and went to the cabinet in search of a corkscrew. "I know it's still morning and we haven't eaten yet, but regard this as the sort of liquid lunch that our hubbies have at work and you'll see that it doesn't matter then."

I couldn't argue with that, especially when a plate of pretzels appeared beside my wine, and so I shut up and drank up. By now Slade had replaced Mud and there was no way I could prevent my foot from tapping to their wild invitation to 'Take me back home'. T-Rex followed Slade with 'Get it on' and Hayley refilled my glass.

"I used to think T-Rex had such a sexy sound." She told me.

"Don't you now?" I asked.

"Yyesss." She said hesitantly. "Maybe I just don't like to admit anymore."

"Oh, I don't mind." I smiled. "I'll readily confess that any music that throbs will have me doing the same in short order."

Hayley laughed. "I've never heard it put like that before, but I know what you mean."

Seventies classic followed seventies classic until disc and bottle were finished and Hayley got up to refresh both. Once again my protests went unheeded, but by then I wasn't protesting too loudly anyway. The music was now pumping classic rock and the wine was generating a nice warm glow, and so what if I was getting very slightly squiffy, I didn't have to drive anywhere. And in any case the conversation was getting sillier than it would normally have done and both of us were laughing more loudly by the minute.

Then Hayley started a seated version of head-banging in response to ZZ Top, and I suddenly realised what was different about her appearance. Her hair was shorter, more a pale straw mop top than anything else now.

"Have you had your hair trimmed?" I asked her in surprise.

"You mean you can see through these jeans?" She replied, giggling madly.

"Silly girl." I tried to answer before dissolving into laughter, but the rest of the reply was punctuated by fits of giggling. "I meant the hair on your head, not that down below."

When our laughter finally subsided and ZZ Top had given way appropriately to Queen's 'Don't stop me now', I just had to ask....

"But do you trim your pussy hair?"

"No, do you?"

I had to admit that I did, because for a blonde I have quite a luxuriant growth when it's left to its own devices and I quite like wearing bikinis when I can.

"Well, yes." I frowned a little at having to divulge such personal information. "If I didn't it would show around my bikini, doesn't yours?"

"No."

The exceedingly innocent look that accompanied her too brief answer made me suspicious.

"Okay, I'll buy it. Why not?"

"I don't have to trim it, because I shave it."

Now that was an answer I didn't expect. I thought only porn stars and models did that.

"Really! Why?"

"Well for one thing I think it's more hygienic, you don't get so sweaty and yucky in summer, and for another thing...."

She paused briefly, her face colouring slightly before she went on.

"And it's so much nicer when Mike touches me, especially when he goes down on me."

"I bet that second reason is the real one." I told her laughingly, wondering silently what it would be like.

"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I might incriminate myself."

We both fell apart giggling, me harder than Hayley because I could see her red face.

"Now don't be shy." I waved an admonishing finger at her, trying to pretend I was serious. "If you like oral sex, just say so. You don't have to hide your little foibles from me."

"I do, I do!" She laughed. "I just love a tongue in my trough."

"Me too." I told her. "Makes me cum like an express train."

It must have been the wine combined with the music, but I was feeling much more candid than I should have been.

"How do you like it done? Do you like your clit sucked, or a tongue inside you?"

"Either or both. Having my pussy licked gets me going however it's done."

"Can he make you cum, or is it just a lead up to a good fuck?"

"Such language Sue!" She replied on mock horror. "The answer is both again, and will you kindly stop talking about it; I'm feeling bloody horny as it is without you making it worse."

It was the wine and the music! Hayley went to fetch more wine while Boston told us it was 'More than a feeling', much to our mutual amusement. When she returned she opened the bottle, refilled our glasses and sat herself down beside me again.

"Now you tell me what you like. It's only fair."

"The same as you." I admitted candidly. "When Paul puts his tongue in me, or when he licks my clit, he can very easily have me climbing the wall."

"Must make sex difficult with you halfway up the wall!" She chuckled.

Obviously the conversation was not going to get serious, even though the subject was getting more and more personal. I didn't mind, the mirth took the edge of any embarrassment as, for the very first time since we'd met, we openly discussed our sex lives.

"Haven't you tried it?" I asked in mock surprise. "It's brilliant so long as you hang on tight to the picture rail."

"Humph! The next time you try it let me know and I'll come around and watch."

"Ooh! Kinky!"

"What else do you like?"

"Do you want to know my darkest secret?" I asked her, filled with a sudden urge to admit to anything.

"Go on then. You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"I love having my bottom smacked."

"Really!" She sounded intrigued though clearly surprised, but I didn't care.

"Really. Sometimes when we're messing about Paul will put me over his knee and spank me, and that gets me so damn randy I'll let him do anything he wants."

Even thinking about the delicious pain that came from a good spanking was getting to me, and I could feel my pussy beginning to respond.

"Mike wouldn't do that to me." She shrugged. "There's something else I'd like to try that he won't do either.

"What's that?" For some reason it seemed that she needed me to ask.

"You know we were talking about when he goes down on me?"

I nodded encouragement.

"Well, sometimes he likes to finger me while he sucks my clit because he knows it really get me going, and the best thing he's ever done was one day when he put two fingers up me and then accidentally shoved another one into my bottom. He let it stay there while he licked my clit, and it made me cum really, really hard."

That did surprise me, but there must have been more to it and so I waited for her to continue.

"But what I'd really like is for him to do it in my bottom, you know what I mean?"

I thought I did, but I couldn't actually believe she meant it.

"You mean...?" I let the question hang.

"Yes, I'd just love it if he would put his cock in and fuck my bottom properly."

She shuddered as she told me and I saw her subconsciously run her hand hard across the crotch of her jeans in answer to the sensations in her pussy. Talking like this was getting to Hayley just as much as it was me. We sat in silence for a minute or so.

"Have you ever done it?" She asked me.

"No, But I think I might like to try it sometime." Actually, that was only a half truth because anal sex wasn't high on my sexual wish list, even though the idea had crossed my mind once or twice.

"If you do, tell me what it's like, because Mike just won't even try it once."

"I promise." I told her, wondering if I ever would.

"Sometimes I fantasize about it when I masturbate." She confessed unexpectedly, once again running the flat of her hand across her denim covered pubes.

"I'm not sure what I think about when I'm doing that." I told her truthfully. "I usually just get carried away with what I'm doing."

"That tends only to happen to me when I use my vibe." Hayley gazed off into the distance.

Her breathing was becoming noticeably heavier from an obviously growing arousal and one hand was now resting provocatively between her legs, just gently cupping herself, the other lying loosely on her thigh. I watched with interest, especially because I too was getting hot under the collar.

"How do you do it?" She asked me suddenly.

"How do I do what?" I asked unnecessarily, knowing exactly what she meant and feeling embarrassingly willing to explain.

"How do you bring yourself off? I mean do you use a vibe, or your fingers, or what?"

I considered what to say, mainly because I don't have a vibe, or even a preferred technique, it's just whatever I feel like doing at the time, although lying with my legs apart and two fingers massaging my clit is by far my most common method. Hayley interpreted my pause as reluctance.

"I mean, I love to play with my clit, but sometimes, when I'm nearly there I like to cram a couple of fingers right up inside myself."

She stopped talking, but her fingers were clutching firmly at herself through the material of her jeans actually, and I couldn't help but watch.

"God, but Mike's in for a session when he gets home." She exclaimed. "I feel so bloody horny I can hardly wait."

Her hand had now begun actually massaging her pussy through her clothing.

"Sometimes." She returned to the subject of masturbation, her voice sounding tighter from her arousal. "Sometimes I like to roll on my side and push a finger inside my pussy from behind, and then reach between my legs with my other hand and put another finger up from the front. Does that sound too weird?"

"No, it sounds like fun actually."

I'd never tried it, and I'm not sure I have the required suppleness, but I can see how it would work.

"If you do it, pull your hole open with the two fingers when you cum and you'll keep cumming for ages."

"I'm not sure I could reach." I told her, the idea triggering all sorts of beautiful feelings inside me.

"Try it." She was rubbing her crotch quite unashamedly now, playing with herself through her clothes and staring into the far distance.

We sat there in silence for a while as I watched Hayley stimulate herself, rubbing and massaging her pussy and occasionally licking her lips, her breathing now clearly audible. I didn't know what had triggered all this with her, but she was turning me on something awful, and Paul was also going to be in luck tonight. I could feel my own lower lips opening and dampening the insides of my cotton briefs.

I thought at first that she would play for a minute or two and then sort of realise what she was doing and stop, looking embarrassed and guilty, but as the seconds ticked away I came to the conclusion that things had taken over and that she was caught up in her own need.

That was an awkward moment. I didn't know if I should say something, if only to remind her that someone was there, or to just let her get on with it and see what happened. I watched her actions with a flutter of envy in my chest, but then I noticed that my own hand was cupping my breast over my shirt, and then I just kind of let things ride. Anyway, it felt so damn sexy to touch my own breast while someone else was present, even if it was over my clothes.

As I watched Hayley closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa, letting her feelings take over entirely and ignoring me completely as she squeezed and massaged herself. I wondered how far she would go, and if she just might bring herself off that way. The idea that my friend just might make herself cum while I was there gave me a mini adrenalin rush, making my heart beat faster and my mouth go dry. My other hand wandered down between my legs.

It happens that I'm left handed, and because I was sitting to Hayley's left I was able to stroke myself without the movements attracting her attention, and I sat beside her surreptitiously doing exactly what she was doing so much more overtly. While ever she had her eyes closed I thought I could play with myself without embarrassment, though I suppose it that was really me justifying my actions to myself. I would, I told myself, stop the second her eyes popped open.

God, but it felt so damn good. My jogging bottoms are thin and soft and it was almost like feeling my naked flesh as I sat there. I could feel that my pussy was swollen and gaping and I just knew that I was sopping wet. It was so exciting, so daring, and so sexy to have one hand on my breast and the other between my legs and not be caring that I had company. Soon I was carried away just as much as Hayley.

"Oh Sue."

Hayley's voice sounded almost guilty, and as my eyes swivelled around to look at her I saw a slightly apologetic look on her face as she watched my hand playing between my legs. My fingers stopped abruptly and I gazed at her in shocked embarrassment, but then a little smile fitted across her features and I noticed that she hadn't even paused in her play.

"Don't stop Sue." She pleaded quietly. "Then I won't have to."

I nodded and we both knew that we would keep going to the end.

I looked over at her wondering what was going to happen next, but then, still looking straight at me she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zip down. I wanted to look down at her but she had me pinned in eye contact and I just stared straight back into her face as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand find its way inside the pale blue panties revealed in the vee of her open zip. She hadn't pulled her jeans down at all, she just burrowed her way inside until a little gasp and a tremor in her face told me that she had found her pussy. I felt adrenalin surge through me once more as she leaned back again, closed her eyes and started to play.

There was no mistake now; Hayley was masturbating, her fingers moving inside her clothes with the express intention of giving herself pleasure, and if she was doing it there was very little reason why I shouldn't give way to my own urges and follow, if only I could get up the courage.

I wasn't feeling quite as uninhibited as Hayley, not at that moment anyway, and I'm not sure if I could have coped with having to do something as blatant as unfastening jeans and pulling a zip down, but I was able to slide my hand discreetly under the waistband of my joggers without having to do anything that could possibly be interpreted as undressing. I know that might sound silly and pathetic, but with my heart racing at my own boldness already, it probably made the difference between me following suit and backing away from the whole scene.

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byOtazel© 5 comments/ 168388 views/ 98 favorites

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