Friends and Lovers

This story has a little of everything. Light bondage, public nudity (of course), and FF sex.

I appreciate any feedback and your votes.

Lily: Backyard: June 11th

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"Crack." The noise sounded like a large animal stepping on a branch. Naked, I leaned up on my elbows to see the woods at the bottom of my yard. I lived in an old farmhouse on the edge of town and taught at the local middle school. National Nude day was coming quickly, and I wanted to be ready, but I certainly didn't want any students to see me.

I'm 35, I run, I have a piercing in my nose, my right breast, and my belly button. I'm clean-shaven everywhere, and I take care of myself. "Who cares if someone is watching? I have nothing to be ashamed of." I thought. "I'm blonde and in great shape."

The problem was, I cared. Small town Americana is not the place to tan naked. If one of my students saw me, I'm sure the news would be all over school. In a Catholic school, one town over, they fired a teacher for getting pregnant and not being married.

I didn't see anyone, so I closed my eyes, flipped to my stomach, and went back to reading. It could have been a chipmunk out for a morning stroll, for all I knew.

It was too hard to read this way, I didn't want to lie on my back and expose more of myself. Soon my thoughts wandered.

I was ready for a change.

Restless and uncomfortable in my skin, my house, my old job, my tiny farming town, I yearned for more. I could no longer stand living in the fog of depression, wracked by anxiety and guilt. I was tired of being tired. I took medicine to help the anxiety, medicine to help the depression and medicine to help me sleep. My Dr recently put me on medication to help with the effects of, wait for it now, my other medications. I wanted to throw it all away.

Running always made me feel better, why couldn't I just do that, and not take any medicine.

My boyfriend of 4 years had recently left me for a younger woman. He had the nerve to tell me, I was boring and he needed more excitement in bed. Not wanted, 'needed,' mind you. What the hell did that even mean? Was anal sex a need now?

My entire life, I dreamed of Europe. I longed to drink wine in Paris, ski the Alps, lay on the beach in the south of France, drink German beer, tour Italy, drink Ouzo, and eat seafood in Greece.

I was a teacher. I had no pets, I'm quiet, an introvert. Yes, the few friends I had would know I left, but I doubted they would miss me. My parents lived on the other side of the country.

I eagerly planned the places I would go and the pictures I would take. The food I would eat, the wine I would drink, the lovers I would take.

Life in small-town America could be so very dull.

I wanted passion; I wanted to fall in love. I didn't care if it was a man or a woman, books or places, or a wine, I just wanted to be in love. I wanted to get up in the morning and do something of importance. I wanted to matter.

I intended to run with the bulls, swim with dolphins, kiss the Blarney Stone, and eat all the food I would never eat again. I wanted to sing and dance.

Could Europe be the change I yearned for?

I felt tired of following rules; I vowed that I would be bold and brave on this trip. I used clothes as a barrier; they were baggy and showed nothing of my body. I used my clothes to hide from the world. I promised myself that would change. I planned to lay naked on the beaches in the south of France.

There was no reason to hide any longer. I took care of my body; I was smart; I carried conversations.

I vowed that if I wanted to try a wine, I would, and if I wanted to try exotic food, I would, and if someone wanted to have sex with me, that would be okay too.

If I'm being honest, I'll admit that I don't know if I ever would have gone to Europe. I had a hundred reasons it made little sense, even if I could afford it.

For God's sake, I couldn't even bring myself to buy clothes if they were not on sale. A small-town Midwest girl in Paris? Please, they would eat me alive.

I grew up poor and never wanted to find myself in that situation again.

Then I lost my teaching job. Enrollment was down; I didn't have seniority, and the bosses wanted to keep teachers that could do multiple subjects. The state was in a budget crunch, and money for education was tight. Nobody was hiring. But, hey! I could always sub if I wanted, they needed subs.

My way of dealing with the stress did not help. I bought wine, lots of wine, sat in my lonely little house, with boring white walls, drank, and pondered my next step. I tried not to worry about the things I should be doing. 'Should,' was such a negative word.

The wine hadn't helped much.

There was no way to justify a trip to Europe now.

The perfect time to travel would never exist. Why not go when I didn't have a steady job?

I put my earbuds in and drifted off to sleep. "Go," and "don't go," running through my mind.

Did I see a glint in the woods, as I closed my eyes?

The South of France: July 13th: 9 PM

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Miranda Cosgrove rolled her eyes in the dim club, when the DJ cranked the techno-funk. The pounding beat left her nerves jangling, as her heels clicked a rapid beat, on the club floor.

She wanted to get up, run, dance, or just move her body, but her husband was on the dance floor, and she needed to keep an eye on him.

The strobes and the liquor caused a pounding headache, and she wished they could leave.

Her husband, an old man, was stinking rich. Because he found money desirable, he naturally assumed that women found him attractive. He loved women and lusted after anything in a skirt. Red hair, blonde or brunette, it didn't matter. Magnificent breasts or pert handfuls, he didn't care. Curvy or not, he would take them all.

William Cosgrove didn't care that his very attractive, irate wife watched. At one time, he would have tried to hide his indiscretions, but no longer. He didn't delude himself by thinking that she loved him; he knew that she loved his money. A divorce would be costly for her.

In fact, he decided to ask her to join his games.

He smiled at the shorter of the two blondes dancing with him. He wasn't in the habit of asking for what he wanted. Why ask? He would "insist" that his wife agree to the pursuit of pleasure. The more, the merrier, right?

He took a sip of champagne from the bottle in his right hand, reached for the blonde's ass with his left hand, and pulled her into him.

She smiled, "What can I do for you, honey?"

"How about you two come back to my table?" He smashed her tight into his pelvis, so he could grind.

"

Like that?" He asked.

She ignored the question, the grinding, and the ass grab, "As long as you buy us some of that?" She pointed at the expensive bottle of champagne.

"You can have as much as you want." He grinned, transaction concluded. He wasn't sure what their story was, but he understood they were willing, and the girls knew he would pay. Game, set, match!

If he cared to ask the short blonde whose ass he had a firm grip on, what her story was, she would have told him.

She and her friend were traveling in the south of France. They were students from Ukraine. Russia destroyed their village, leaving no work and little hope of things improving. Their families had no money, and the young women were nothing more than a burden.

So, they traveled around Europe, making what money they could and sending any remaining money home.

They thought of William Cosgrove as a rich fuck, literally and figuratively, and they were happy to indulge his fantasies, as they had nothing to eat for over a day, and had pawned most of their clothes. What remained of their worldly goods was in a storage locker in the city. It wasn't much more than a pair of panties, some leggings, and a t-shirt. The stuff they couldn't sell.

Miranda's jaw dropped when she saw the two women coming back to the table with William. Tall, skinny, blonde, they were gorgeous! She flushed when the crowd diminished, and she could see what they were wearing, or more accurately, what they were not wearing.

Each had a 2-piece dress on, tight enough that she could tell they were not wearing a bra or panties. The bottom part was cut high on the hips, and long, lean legs flashed as they walked. It looked more like a loincloth than anything else.

"Thank god, for double-sided tape." She thought.

"Honey, let me introduce my friends." William gestured with his hand. He looked at the two women and realized he didn't know their names.

"Anna." Responded the shorter of the two and kissed William on one cheek.

"Erica." Responded the second woman and kissed William on the other cheek.

"Anna and Erica, this is my wife, Miranda." William was expansive with his gestures. "Please do sit down."

"Yes, please, join us." Miranda crossed her arms, glaring at the two.

"Are you sure?" Asked Anna.

"Yes, I would be ever so delighted to have you join MY husband and me for a drink."

Miranda's smile was brief and didn't reach her eyes.

William raised a hand to attract the attention of a cocktail girl.

His mind filled with thoughts of pleasures to come. This would be perfect! Miranda was furious. Wait until she found out she would join the three of them in bed! He smiled at her humiliation.

Would she do it? Would she refuse and leave him, or worse yet, would she refuse and stick around and make his life miserable? They had an air-tight prenuptial agreement, so he wasn't worried if she left. Truth be told, he was tired of her petty jealousy.

He thought they had an agreement. He got sex; his wife got money. He assumed she was worldly, and knew he would have other women.

"Yes, Sir, how can I help?" The waitress winked at him, and for a moment, he wondered if she was offering more than drinks? He had a certain reputation. He thought that turning 70 would take his mind away from sex, like the tide running out. But if anything he thought of sex more, now that he wasn't working. Thank GOD for Viagra.

"Three bottles of champagne, please." He may be a libertine, but he was a polite libertine.

"Could we order some food?" Erica asked.

"We'll eat back at the yacht," William informed them as he dismissed the waitress, an attractive brunette, with long legs, a short skirt, and lots of cleavage on display.

"So, ahhmm, are you asking us back to the boat?" Erica interjected. "You didn't mention that part."

"Of course! Where else would you rather go?" William grinned. "You can't honestly have somewhere better to be?"

"No, no, we'd love to come with you, but...." She glanced at Miranda.

"Pish, posh," he waved his hand in the air. "Have a drink! You too, honey!" He gestured at Miranda. "It'll be loads of splendid fun."

Miranda's family was from the North of Italy, and she wasn't having the least bit of fun, nor did she think she would, and in fact, Miranda wondered if she shouldn't walkout. A simple phone call and her Papa would be here. He never approved of the marriage, and would be glad to say, "I told you so."

Then the music stopped, and Anna smiled at Miranda. "Can I sit by you?"

Miranda glared at her, daring her to take the open seat.

Lily: JFK Airport - July 1st, 10 PM

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People smiled at me. I wondered why, but mostly I just smiled back. Had I left something undone on my sundress?

I hardly believed everything that happened. I wanted a fresh life, I was tired of hiding, and by god, I did it. I sold my house, my car, most of my old clothes and all of my furniture. I bounced off the walls, giddy with excitement. This was the trip of a lifetime.

I had one bag, and my backpack: everything else I sold. If I was careful, I had enough money for a year in Europe. I would stay in hostels, travel by train, eat cheaply.

I refused to ponder what would happen when the money ran out. I would deal with that when it happened. My tickets were non-refundable and open-ended. They were my safety net.

My parents wished me luck and told me to call when I was home. They said that this was something I had to do while I was young. They would miss me during the holidays, but they understood, and besides, I already lived on the other side of the country. Was there anything else they asked? The game was on, and they wanted to watch it. My parents were like that.

My friends were much more excited and happy, and they promised to call and e-mail and made me swear to take lots of pictures, so they could live vicariously. We went out to the only German restaurant in the city, ate pretzels and got drunk on German beer served in glass boots.

My plane stopped first in Amsterdam, where I would visit the red-light district. I planned on hiring a prostitute. I would be in charge. I wanted to feel everything. No emotional connection, just skin touching skin, passion, and lust, filling my senses. For the longest time, I wondered what it would be like with a woman, and now I would know.

As if to test my resolve, several attractive men were on the plane. Why not let one of them seduce me? They checked me out, their eyes following my passage. My sundress went to my thighs and left loads of cleavage bare.

One even asked if he could sit by me.

"I don't think we can do that." I looked up into his green eyes.

"Well, I've already spoken with the stewardess, and she informed me that this seat was empty, and I could take it." He sounded amused. "The unfortunate chap at my other spot is sick. I had rather hoped I could sit in first class but alas, she refused that request."

"I guess I don't mind," I replied with a brief smile.

He sat and crossed his corduroy covered legs. Brown pants, a Gingham button-down shirt, a white sweater, and leather shoes presented the perfect picture of a casual European businessman.

Did I already mention his green eyes, well how about his chiseled cheekbones, and well-defined chin? He was lean and attractive. Yumm!

"I'm Lily." I reached my hand out, and he shook it.

"Ian." He replied. "I'm from Copenhagen."

"Nice! Maybe you could give me the inside scoop on places to see."

"Are you coming to visit our lovely city?" He grinned. "I could make time to show you around."

"I'd love a tour guide." I had to restrain myself. "But I'm flying into Amsterdam first."

"Phone, please." He held his hand out with a cheeky grin, and I handed my phone over.

"You're probably putting your dead uncle Leo's number in." I said with a wry smile.

"No, no. no." He let his eyes wander up and down my body. I blushed as he checked me out.

"You madam, are exquisite, and I would be delighted to show you around town."

I grinned. "Cool, it's a date."

There was a lull in the conversation for a moment, so he stowed his bag and took out a book to read. I was disappointed to see it was a book on being a better boss. Boring!

I put my earbuds in and turned my book on—Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I've read it before, who hasn't, but I wanted to pretend I was cosmopolitan. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, peeking at my phone.

"Marvelous view." He tapped me on the shoulder and pointed. We were over the coast.

"It is!" I smiled up at him.

"What are you reading?" He asked at the same time I did. I snorted, and then dissolved in a fit of giggles. My hand ended up on his muscular thigh as we laughed together, and it was nice, very nice.

No flab there, no sir, just firm muscles.

"So?" He looked down at my hand. "I couldn't help noticing you were reading?"

"Right." I jerked my hand back, grabbed my phone with one hand, and my earbuds with the other, which had the unfortunate result of flipping my phone into his lap. I lunged for it, forgetting that I had a drink on the tray by the window.

"Aaahhh," I screeched as the ice-cold gin and tonic landed in my lap.

"Shit," I exclaimed. The drink soaked through the light fabric of my dress. "Damn it, I need to get this cleaned up." I picked up the slice of lime and stood to go to the bathroom.

"I'm happy to help?" He arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you are, buddy. I'll be right back."

In retrospect, I should have waited for a second, I could see he was trying to get up, but I was in a hurry and squeezed by him, we hit turbulence. I ended up in his lap, my breasts pressed into his face.

Mortified, I pushed myself to my feet and into the aisle. "I'm so sorry."

"No worries, dear, my seat is your seat and all that jazz." He grinned, and at that moment, the seatbelt light came on. "You best sit down before the stewardess arrives." He pointed at the seatbelt light.

I turned, so my back was to him, as I went past his feet. I was nervous and upset, and I didn't think of waiting for him to move. I should have known, we hit turbulence again. I ended up sitting in his lap this time.

The turbulence lasted a good 30 seconds, and I spent the entire time squirming. He finally wrapped his hands around my waist, his large muscular hands, and held me tight.

I let myself fall back against his broad chest, and I thought he might grope me then and there.

Alas, the airplane calmed, so I no longer had an excuse to linger.

"Yes, right, well, hopefully, that's done." I stood, my face burning, straightened my skirt, and sat down in my seat. The wet dress clung to my legs. I shivered and crossed my arms. I wished that I had something more to say, something bright and witty, but all I could feel was the heat coloring my cheeks.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"I'm fine," I replied with a wan smile.

He had his seatbelt on but squirmed out of his sweater. He set it on the middle arm-rest. He started reading, his elbow on the sweater. He nudged it until it landed in my lap.

"Dang it. I don't know what to do with that thing." I smiled, he was such a horrible actor. "I don't want it on the floor, and I can't put it in the overhead, or it will wrinkle, would you mind holding it?"

"Thank you. That's sweet." I responded.

"Wow, would you look at that?" He pointed out the window and leaned. A lightning streak flashed across the angry purple clouds.

It was just then that the plane lurched, and his face ended up next to mine. His light cologne smelled of the outdoors. I bit my lower lip, imagining what it would be like to run my tongue up and down his chest, sucking on a nipple, and inhaling the scent. He smelled that good.

"Well, this is exciting." He smiled from a distance of about six inches. "I rather think I am going to kiss you now." He murmured.

"I rather think I would like that." I smiled.

The kiss, however, was brief and most proper. At least he didn't commit the ultimate sin of kissing my cheek like I was some long-lost aunt. He leaned back in his own seat, after a moment. I noticed that our shoulders were touching.

"This is your captain speaking. I've turned the seatbelt sign back on. You may have noticed that we hit some turbulence. Unfortunately, folks, this is a bigger storm, and it will be a good 45 minutes until we fly out of it. I'll let you know when we're clear."

"That sucks," I muttered.

"What? Trapped here with me sucks?" He seemed concerned.

"No, not that, you big lug." I playfully smacked his arm. "I'm all wet." I lifted the sweater to show him the gin and tonic had soaked my skirt. "My panties are even wet."

"Well, I do seem to have that effect on lasses." He grinned.

My face felt like it was on fire. "Hilarious, but it doesn't solve my problem."