Friendship Changes

Everything started to change when Erica twisted her ankle as we were walking in the forest near her cabin. She and I have been friends for quite a number of years, and I can't remember how many times we've spent week-ends here, alone together. We met through our respective partners at the end of high-school; my girlfriend and her boyfriend had been neighbors all their life. For years, we hadn't even thought of the other as boy or girl, and later as man and woman: we simply were the third and fourth wheels of a tight group of friends. Even though we were spending a lot of time together, often just the two of us, it just seemed perfectly normal.

Suddenly, very suddenly in fact after she learned that her boyfriend had been cheating on her for the better part of a year, Erica left him. At that time I was still profoundly in love with my girlfriend Karin, and we nursed Erica back to "health" over a few very difficult months. That was about three years ago. Since, Erica has chewed through a lot of relationships, most feeling like fireworks: starting fast, rising even faster and exploding in a spectacular death.

Last year it was my turn to break up with my longtime girlfriend, Karin, over slow-growing tensions and life ambitions that turned out to be much more different than we had thought. Less violent but not really easier, our separation seemed to signify the end of our old foursome. In the end, nevertheless, even though we now lived hundreds of miles apart, Erica and I managed to keep in touch.

To keep that last relationship alive we decided to spend another week-end together at her cabin, to celebrate the Fall equinox and this year's glorious late Summer. We decided to start our Friday with what had nearly become a routine: a one hour hike to the river for a nice swim. Years ago Erica and I had found a very secluded spot on one of the banks, our very own secret nook. Strangely enough, without even deciding or talking about it, we had kept this place our secret. Even from our partners. It was ours, and we didn't think it strange at all: just two friends sharing a secret hideaway.

Anyways, I was enjoying our time together and our fast paced hike towards the river. Following behind Erica, I couldn't help sneaking glances at her legs and rump. This, too, was a tradition here: no hint of nudism or anything really our of the ordinary, but a few years back I noticed that we were both just a bit more relaxed with our clothes and glances. Karin had told me, once, that Erica thought that I was really handsome and sexy. For my part, one very drunken night, while our partners were in the swimming pool, I had spluttered to Erica that I thought that she was absolutely gorgeous. And she teased me about it for months, laughing as she told me how my eyes had strayed to her bikini-clad breasts all night.

Today she had decided to show off her legs to good effect, wearing nothing between her ankles and her buttocks. Only a very short pair of skin-tight spandex shorts below an equally tight tank top. Although I'd taken to enjoy these stolen glances, especially those here at the cabin, and despite what my drunken mouth had uttered a few years ago, I didn't think that Erica was all that gorgeous. Don't get me wrong, she has everything a woman could want, a man's woman. Rounded thighs and ass, generous hips, small waist and very large and unbelievable breasts, riding too high on her chest for their size. But all my life I've been with and fantasized about tall, lean, athletic girls and women. I really loved long, lean legs, small and firm buttocks.

Now, enjoying the golden september weather, I realized that I was placing my feet and ankles in danger: I couldn't keep my eyes away form her legs and ass. More times than I cared to think about, I felt my feet slipping or turning on a rock as we walked. The path was very familiar, but I didn't remember every little detail of it! On the other hand, by the end of our hike I'd most likely remember every detail of her legs and shorts!

In a second these thoughts were forgotten as Erica slipped and fell herself, her foot breaking through an unseen hole in the ground. She started to fall towards her right, but her right knee had wanted to go left, and she fell very awkwardly to the ground. In pain. Reflexes took over as she sat down and I unlaced her shoe and removed her sock. Fifteen seconds later, both used to hiking injuries, we had ascertained that, first, nothing was broken, and second, that it was still a very bad sprain.

We didn't have any ice packs, but we wrapped one of our towels around her foot, then poured some of our ice-cool water from our bottles. Not as good as ice, but definitely better than nothing. Fifteen minutes later her pain had subsided significantly, but it was obvious that she was not going to be able to walk for a while. Ignoring her protests I decided to leave both our packs on the side of the trail, and I picked her up in my arms. We had walked for about twenty minutes, but we both know that it would take at least twice that time to get back to her cabin.

Thankfully I was in good shaped, and thankfully Erica was only a few inches taller than 5 feet. I don't know how long it actually took, and although carrying a damsel in distress through the woods sounded romantic, it really wasn't. I took a few breaks to regain my strength, and without ice her ankle started to swell and cause her more and more pain. She was keeping a brave face but I knew how painful bad sprains could be.

I lowered her gently on her bed, and went to get some real ice. Less than five minutes later, her feet and ankle were iced and elevated on two pillows. I also brought her a warm and soapy washcloth to help clean herself up: we had set a brisk pace and the day had been really hot. Again: hot a sweaty might sound all sexy, but when you're in pain... Before leaving the room, satisfied that she was going to be okay, I saw her smile at me. I smiled back and she invited me to sit beside her. Without saying anything else, she grabbed my hand, kissed it and thanked me. Before I cold reply she shushed me and smiled again. I bided her to try and sleep before leaving her room.

Erica ended up sleeping most of the afternoon. She knocked on the wall as the old clock rang 5pm; she was thirsty and wanted a glass of water. She kissed my hand and thanked me again before letting me go: she was obviously going to fall asleep again. In the kitchen, trying to be as silent as possible, I fixed myself a light dinner and fell on the large couch. When I woke up everything was pitch dark. I heard Erica knock on her wall again (maybe for the second time, waking me up?) and I got up. Trying my best to shake the sleep from my head, I grabbed a new ice pack and went to her room.

Despite the lingering heat form the day, I saw in the dim moonlight that she had covered herself in a thin blanket. When my feet bumped into her discarded clothes on the floor, I understood why. She said, softly: "I stank too badly and I wanted to clean the sweat off my body..."

Smiling, I replied: "How are you feeling?". 


Waiting for her to reply, I tried my best to ignore the fact that I was sitting on her bed in the middle of the night and that she was wearing nothing but her underwear. After a few seconds trying to move her foot, she said that it was much better. She accepted the new ice pack, but it was clear that the worst was past.

I don't know how long, how many hours we spent talking very late into the night. This discussion, however, turned out to be a relationship changer. From mundane subjects we moved on to more and more intimate topics and inquiries. I became a lot more at ease on her bed, and she with the blankets: more often than not, even in the quiet moonlight, I could see the top of her panties as well as her black bra. Now, I know that sports bra won't ever make the cover of Sport's Illustrated swimsuit issues, but given that Erica had spectacular breasts, it was enough of a show to make my blood run a bit hotter.

She started touching me after a joke, gently slapping my arm with her hand after a bad one. The second time after a particularly nasty one. A few minutes later, for no reason whatsoever, she move her arm so that the back of her hand was touching my bare thigh. By then I was sitting against the wall, right next to her. It's so strange how Erica and I had spent so much time together in the past, all the while never really getting into really serious or important subjects. As the hours flew by we explored religion, politics and philosophy, as well as sharing some of our intimate memories and moments, to finally, as dawn was approaching talk about some of our most secret dreams and ambitions.

By then, we were holding hands. I have no idea how or when that happened. One of the last subjects we talked about was her current boyfriend. A couple of months old, that relationship, but somehow I had never met him. "That's not surprising, my friend." She said as dawn was starting to throw more light on her body. "I didn't really want you to meet him... Even after the first few weeks, it was obvious that the relationship wasn't going anywhere."

I didn't even need to finish the obvious question: "Why then..."

"Oh..." she sighed, "We talked about character flaws earlier... Well, one of my very worst is that I can't stand being alone. Out of a relationship I mean." This revelation didn't surprise me, as it had become clear through the years. When she continued, her voice was clearly strained: "You have no idea how many guys I stayed with even though I knew it was going nowhere... It was easy for them, even though I wasn't 100% committed: many of them stayed around just for my body... I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

The silence that followed that last admission was very painful. She squeezed my hand hard, as if to ask me not to comment. Looking at her, all I wanted to do was to kiss her. On the mouth. Opening her lips gently with my tongue and all. But I couldn't, not now, not after such a confidence. A minute later, Erica added: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. The part about my body... Here I am complaining about my own bad decisions while half naked next to you, all sweaty and dirty and probably smelly as well!" She laughed, trying to make light of it all.

Against my better judgement, perhaps because of the sudden intimacy and the late hour, I leaned towards her and kissed her brow. I whispered: "I understand, Erica." She grinned at me, and I saw her impish sense of humor flash in her eyes:

"You understand the guys? For staying with me?" My eyes opened wide in surprise. But as Erica turned towards me on the bed, still holding my hand, it was clear that I had not made an awkward mistake. Her voice was just teasing me, but her body was telling me that she had accepted, in a sense, that kiss on her brow.

"That's not what I meant!" I said, half a smile on my lips.

"What?" she replied, "You don't understand them? You don't think I'm beautiful anymore?" We both laughed aloud at that comment. She was thinking about that drunken comment I made, years ago.

"Ah! I'm not drunk tonight, but maybe that sweaty smell intoxicated me anyway!" Hearing this, Erica grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. After we stopped laughing, she exclaimed:

"It's your fault if I'm still dirty!!" She used her free hand to point at her body, which was now completely out of the thin blanket. "Injured as I am, you should have given me a sponge bath, " I wasn't sure if she saw my eyes getting wider for a fraction of a second. Or if she had seen all those glances at her breasts that I tried to steal through the night. I learned it soon enough as she continued: "You're saying that you don't find me beautiful, but your eyes are telling a different story!" Now my eyes widened in surprise at this explicit comment and I threw my free hand up in capitulation. What could I say? But Erica was still laughing: "I'm just teasing you..." And with that she kissed my hand again, the one that had spent the last hour entwined in hers.

Looking up at me, a much more serious look on her face, she said: "Thank you. No, not for the ride back here and the help with the ice and all. Thank you for this night, these discussions. I'm falling asleep as we speak, and it's making me say all sort of things." She grinned. "But I really, really enjoyed this time together despite my damned ankle."

I replied, as simply as I could: "I loved our first night together as well." She laughed softly at my turn of phrase, which was both true and false at the same time. I kissed her hand and pulled away from her slowly to get up. But there was way too much kissing going on for my pulse to slow down.

"Can I do anything to thank you? Anything at all?" She asked, an innocent expression on her face and the body of a succubus glowing in the morning light. A hundred thousand ideas flew through my mind, but I decided to avoid all the heavy stuff.

"Well," I began, openly looking at her body, "even sweaty and dirty..." I let the question hang and she started to laugh.

"You pervert! Get out of my room!" Never before in my life had I heard those words sound so much like an invitation to stay. Grinning but silent, I bent forward and kissed her brow again, before getting up. After closing the drapes I told her to sleep well and closed the door behind me. I was really tired, but I knew I would not be able to sleep for a while. Hot blood running at dangerous speed in your veins will do that. I got to my bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to make heads and tails of the situation. I fell asleep before succeeding.

I woke up to a completely silent cabin: Erica's either sleeping still or is gone somewhere. I also woke up to a raging erection. My groggy mind is completely overflown with images of Erica's body in that black bra and panties. Her breasts take a disproportionate (yet justifiably so) share of these memories and images. Ingrained reflex: I slip my hand under my boxer shorts and close my fist around my cock. Suddenly the images take on a different turn for the fantasy, as I see Erica snapping off that front-closing bra, giving me her breasts.

A small noise outside pulls me away from those images and I slip my hand out of my boxers; another old reflex. Through the window I see Erica walking down the stairs, then beyond my view. Her foot was obviously bothering her, but it seemed to be better than I feared last night. She was wearing her long robe with her ridiculously child-like fuzzy pink elephant slippers, complete with a recurved trunk. I smiled as she disappeared towards the back of the cabin. But while I was free to do whatever I wanted to relieve this sexual tension, the window in my room didn't have any blinds or covering. Even if my mind, in its current state, enjoyed the idea of Erica seeing me masturbate, some last vestige of my decency told me that it wouldn't be respectful.

Taking a few deep breaths I tried my best to get my blood flow back into my body. Some time later I got up and walked to the kitchen. Erica had left me a note: "Thank you again for last night, it was wonderful. I'm still thinking about your request, by the way. P.S. Look in the fridge."

When I did, I found a big bowl of yogurt fruit salad, complete with ground nuts on the top. Grinning, I took my favorite breakfast and grabbed a spoon. A few deep breaths (and delicious bites) later my cock had returned to a nearly normal state. I couldn't figure out the exact reference to last night's request, but I walked outside to find Erica and ask her about it.

Sometimes the mind plays tricks on you. My plan was to find my friend, thank her for the breakfast, sit down next to her and ask her about my supposed request. Things didn't turn out that way at all. In my mind, she was still wearing those stupid slippers and her robe. Not so. When I turned the corner I had my back to the sun yet I felt blinded nonetheless. The bowl nearly fell from my hands. Erica's robe had disappeared and so had her slippers. Instead she was wearing her tiny white bikini, the one I had fantasized so many times about. She was also lying on the ground, face down, in the process of doing a yoga movement called the sun salutation.

As I had my back to the sun, she was facing me directly. (And, that was obvious by now: God was messing with me.) From her position on the ground, she slowly pushed her head and upper torso upwards, like cats like to do. But she was not a cat: from my point of view, all she did was to push her breasts out towards me. Her very nice rounded asscheeks disappeared behind her head as her breasts came into view, exploding in the most wonderful way possible. Her eyes were closed as she tried to raise her head as far as she could.

"Mother Mary in heaven..." I whispered. But in the dead quiet space around us, Erica heard me very clearly. Opening her eyes in surprise she grinned at me. Closing my eyes a second, I said: "I got to sit down otherwise I'm going to embarrass myself." When I saw Erica's eye grow wide, I realized that I had said that last bit out loud as well. And that she had understood both it and its meaning.

With that glorious grin still on her face, she said: "Did you really say what I think you did?"

As I was sitting down, she got up and walked towards me in the light. She was glowing, a goddess of the light. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her long flowing hair, her barely hidden breasts, her smooth belly, flaring hip, round yet firm thighs... I was exploding from the inside. Ten seconds of raw pleasure, staring unashamedly at her body, before finally waking up: "I'm sorry Erica... I'm sorry for looking at you and... and not being able... able to control..." As she was kneeling down beside me, putting her hand on my shoulder, I continued: "You must be tired of men blabbering on about how beautiful you are... I did my best last night, but today, in that bikini, under the sun... You must think I'm a pervert, I'm sorry."

I must have been as red as the ripe tomatoes in the garden further back. I couldn't look at her and was stupidly staring at my bowl of fruits and yogurt. She squeezed my should and sighed. "My friend, look at me." I still couldn't. She leaned in closer and kissed my brow, then my lips. I'm not sure my brain even registered that last kiss. "Why do you think I decided to wear that bikini, block-head?" I blinked at that pet name: years ago she had started to call me either Charlie Brown or block-head, depending on the situation.

Looking up at her, into the face of the most beautiful women I had ever known in my life, I smiled. I still didn't know why she had chosen to wear that bikini: I really was a block-head, I realized later that day. "Listen," she told me, "you know me enough to know that I'm well aware of the effects my body can have on men. When you, one of my closest friend, think that I'm beautiful, do you really think it's the same as when drunken bastards insult me by trying to make some creative compliments?"

She hugged me, pressing her breasts against my chest. "Oh come on now, snap out of it!" She said with a smile. "If my foot wasn't hurting I'd throw you in the lagoon!" The lagoon was an artificial pool that had been dug out years ago in the brook that ultimately fed the river. "Come on, bring your breakfast with you and eat it before it gets all mushy. I'll go get mine and join you in the water." With that she got up and left, and all I could do was stare at her legs, ass, back and hair as she walked away. Even limping, she really was a goddess, my goddess.

Why did it take me all this time to realize it? I had always found her beautiful, but never nearly to the intensity I was feeling it right now. All I could think about was kissing her and holding her in my arms. Why now, why so suddenly? A few deep breaths later, noticing that my cock was still hard I got up quickly; I had to be in the lagoon before she got back. I removed my t-shirt and jumped in.