History with a Past

All characters are over eighteen years old. This story meets the Literotica Guidelines. Enjoy.

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Maggie stood outside the house and squared her shoulders a moment. She had never been here before. Either to this house or this area. It was an upscale bungalow that was far out on the edge of the city. It sat on five acres of land and was offset back from the street with plenty of plantings masking it so you parked on the street and had to walk through a winding path between hedging to reach the front door. Very professional exterior work and gardening that smelled of money.

She realized with some annoyance that she was hesitating.

She adjusted her blouse in the way nervous forty-two-year-old women do when checking their look before meeting strangers. Or at least someone she had not seen in years and years.

She sighed. Annoyed at herself for having these feelings of hesitation.

Her hair was cut shorter that what she considered 'normal' right now. She had been experimenting for a while. Shortening it. It had been closer cut to her head until recently. Now, growing back it was a mass of curls that was maybe four inches long -- sort of halfway between what she thought was her 'look' and her period of experimentation. Combing it was useless right now and she always thought it looked a wreck in any mirror she caught a glimpse of herself in. That coupled with the lines that had appeared in her face after she turned forty made her nervous about her looks. Along with the eight pounds over her best weight she was carrying around on her hips and belly right now. Medals of age.

You can lie to others.

It is harder to lie to yourself though.

She shook her shoulders. She wasn't really nervous about her hair, her weight, or about the simplicity of the jeans and T-shirt outfit she was wearing. She accepted these things about herself really.

She knew the truth.

What was making her nervous was meeting Tiffany again.

Tiffany and she had been friends a little less than thirty years before, a long time ago. They had been kind of close for something like three years. Buddies in the free-wheeling way that only youth can be. Fast friends who were trying everything in the world out together. Testing life. They had liked each other, wandering freely to each other's homes, playing every day together. Socializing. Hanging out. Talking. And learning.

Until things in their learning changed that one day.

Maggie remembered that day most of all.

They had been home at Tiffany's house at the time.

Tiffany was latchkey. Her folks both worked. Though Tiffany's mom usually tried to be home by 5 PM, many times work still got in the way and both of her parents often stayed away from home until 7 or 8 at night and the girls often had the place to themselves until a parent came home. The house was big. Much bigger than Maggie's. A great place for two gals to run around in and hang out without much supervision.

It had been one of those days where they had played games for a while, but were evolving towards other pastimes.

They'd made it home that day from classes by 3PM and had settled in for a girl-time chin wag. Maggie called her mom and told her she was over at Tiffany's. Her mom simply acknowledged. Maggie stayed over at Tiffany's so often her mom really didn't think twice about it. Tiffany's mom called right after and informed them she would be late tonight, not home until almost nine. They always left money on a clip on the refrigerator door so that Tiffany could call for Pizza if she got hungry. There was no trace of serious parental concerns from either of the two girl's folks.

She and Tiffany started in talking about this and that. Naturally the conversation eventually wound around to boys. Tiffany then started to brag about some of the positions that men and women could get into. She appeared to know what she was talking about, which surprised Maggie as they both had about the same experience level in sexual matters. Which was to say, basically none. She had pressed Tiffany and it came out that she had been looking at an old sex manual from thirty years before that she had found stashed away in the attic. Presumably, the book was originally her parent's, but had been rounded up and hidden away up there along with a few men's magazines by her older brother before he went off to college.

Maggie had been very curious and nervously convinced Tiffany to drag the stash out where they could both look at it together.

The manual was illustrated with drawings and some photos. It was thorough and both of them were intensely interested as the two of them flipped through it. They often giggled and joked over several entries. They were perhaps more still more nervous jokes on Maggie's part, but both were enjoying themselves.

Maggie's nervousness came from her mother. Her mom was always spouting off about religious teachings these days. She had sought out the religion industry after she and Maggie's dad had gotten divorced. She kept pressing Maggie to go to church lately and do religious things with her, mumbling about God and sin and a bunch of other memes. Maggie loved her mom, but really did not care for any of the theocratic drivel. She was smart enough to understood that her mother wasn't really into finding God, but was really looking for a life purpose and simple fellowship at church. She wanted friends really. Instinctively Maggie twigged that her mom didn't want true spirituality, any real belief system or immersion in into so idiotic religious dogma. They were just the trappings that went with having someplace to go some nights. Essentially, her mom was just parroting what she heard from the paid priest class and her nuttier co-religionists. On autopilot to fit in.

Maggie was a smart girl.

She could see that in the background of all this her mom felt that the central relationship in her life had vaporized overnight with her divorce and she was just using the religion as a crutch to hold her up emotionally. A prop for her own weaknesses. To fill a void for her. To give her purpose, a purpose she should be able to find on her own. Annoying rather than enlightening. As a result of this tension, Maggie had limited exposure at home to very good sexual information or anything as daring as the sex manual clearly was. As a result, she found herself fascinated by its frankness. Its clarity. She knew if her mother had the slightest idea that Maggie was looking at something so open, she would run down a litany of lines that some member of the ministerial staff had muttered in her ear like a string of pompous bumper stickers. Boring stuff. This book wasn't boring at all. Maggie remembered being openly thrilled to be looking at a book then that was utterly the opposite of her mother and her mates. Open and free. Honest. The exact opposite of what her mother was trying to fill her life with. Maggie had hung on every page as Tiffany had flipped through the thing and showed her the things that had most amused or excited her.

There had been one page that Tiffany had settled on called 'strip poker' and had a drawing of a man and woman playing cards in their underwear. To this day Maggie could recall her looking at the page and then back at Maggie significantly. Then back and forth a couple more times and finally she said something that would always be there in Maggie's memory.

"Let's play." She did not really wait for an answer from Maggie, but fetched a deck of cards from her headboard and sitting cross-legged in front of her, Tiffany dealt them both a hand. They argued for a few moments, about rules and such, but neither really hesitated for long and they began to play. They each began to lose hands and both ended up in their bras and panties. They had each studied each other in their undressed forms shyly, but with shared interest. Maggie remembered Tiffany then lost the next two hands and Maggie had demanded that she stand up and turn around in the nude. It had thrilled her in some subtle way. Her first naked girl stripping for her and Maggie had been surprised at how Tiffany looked naked. Her friend's boobs had seemed big to her. Her own had just passed the small stage and were getting a bit of meat behind the nipples. By contrast Tiffany's were almost a B cup already, which every girl wants and have to carry them around for years. Maggie remembered that her friend's brownish pink nipples had stuck right out like erasers. She even had a tangle of brown hair that was a half shade darker on her genitals than it was on her head. It was certainly far thicker than Maggie's black pubic hairs.

Having lost, it was almost natural that Tiffany had insisted they keep playing to 'get even.' Maggie had pointed out that she had no clothes to lose, so Tiffany had said it would be like truth of consequences and she would have to pay further losses by Maggie assigning consequences for the loser to meet if her clothes were gone. Maggie had agreed to the restructure and they continued. Consequences never arose for her because she lost the next two hands so that she too had to stand in front of her friend and nervously turn around mother naked.

To be frank, despite her blushing, Maggie had been turned on by the whole business. She had felt a distinct tingle from around the nub at the top of her slit. It throbbed as she shyly put her underwear back on after Tiffany made her walk up an down a couple times like a nude runway model.

They had both put on their underwear back on again when Tiffany had upped the stakes.

She declared that on the next hand they would have to figure out how to practice something from the book next. In other words, they were now playing for consequences.

The hand was dealt and Maggie lost. She sat, uncertain yet intensely engaged in the moment. Wearing only her panties.

The book was organized alphabetically. Tiffany flipped through it apparently randomly until it fell open to the letter B. She slid a thumb between pages to open it. The page on it had only a single topic. 'B' for bondage. Maggie remembered in minute detail even today how Tiffany's face lit up. Her crooked smile as she glanced at the drawing of a woman tied spread eagle to a bed and giggled, showing it boldly to Maggie. She's sprung up then, run over to her robe and pulled the belt of the robe out of its loops and returned with it dangling in her hand. She had gestured at Maggie to rise and she had done so. Nervously she stood there while Tiffany had walked behind her. She had grabbed both of Maggie's wrists and pulled them behind her back.

Within seconds Maggie's wrists were bound at the base of her spine.

There had been no discussion really of how the book would be used precisely. It was a surprise when bondage behind the 'B' appeared between them. It had happened organically somehow. Naturally. Tiffany had won the hand and was leading now. She was doing the tying. Maggie got what was left. She was obviously the one to be tied up.

To this day, Maggie remembered every detail and moment. Tiffany cinching her wrists together. Her testing her bondage. Straining against the robe sash which held her hands firmly, but not painfully. She might have objected if she had wished. Maggie had not protested in the least.

You cannot lie to yourself. Not really. Maggie had felt incredibly nervous through it all, but standing there in her friend's bedroom with her hands bound behind her back, she knew she had been incredibly turned on too. Her hips moved from side to side unconsciously. Tiffany had then put her hands on Maggie's shoulders and held them there. Then she leaned in and whispered into Maggie's ear. The feel of her breath had penetrated straight through her ear, along her nervous system and to her clitoris which was aching and throbbing as she stood there tied up.

"Have you done it yet?" Tiffany had whispered.

Maggie remembered squirming helplessly.

"Done...what?" Maggie had asked innocently in a whisper.

"You know. It! Touched it. Until you feel... the feeling?" Tiffany asked.

"Fee...fee...feeling?" Maggie remembered stuttering. She half frozen at the frankness of the question. She was aware of having a few recent disturbing dreams. Dreams where she had awoken to an overwhelming feeling of a throb in her crotch. She was aware of touching herself there and feeling a swollen lump of flesh right where her lips split apart. More, she had felt some kind of liquid and her lips had parted wetly, but she had not really done it as a full-on waking thing yet. Just for a few minutes after waking up a bit and was only recently reaching awareness of her body's capabilities.

"You know." Tiffany had said amusement touching her voice back then. "Feeling it. Touching it. Getting yourself... off."

The word 'off' had been breathy and it tingled all the way through Maggie as it entered her ear.

To this day Maggie remembered her the innocence in her response.

"Off?"

Tiffany had giggled a bit at that answer.

"You haven't, have you? Haven't gotten yourself off? Here! Let me show you." She had said then. It was then that Maggie had felt Tiffany's hand on her belly, reaching around her from she half stood beside and behind her. She had run her hand down Maggie's front and her fingers and stroked the gusset of her friend's panties. Dragging her nails deliberately over what she later knew to be her clit, feeling its distended height pushing the material outward and then rubbing it in gentle circles. She had alternated between those circles and dragging her nails up and down her crotch. Maggie remembered feeling her wrists tied behind her even all those years ago, the hands pressed into Tiffany's lower belly and was aware of Tiffany's mound through her panties on her finger tips as Tiffany frigged her that day. She was not old yet. She was inexperienced. She was horny immediately at the sensations. After ninety seconds she was panting for it. Her breathing had climbed the scales from deep breathes, to open panting, to groaning and moaning as her friend tickled and teased her and then Tiffany had gifted her with her first ever grunting and shrieking orgasm that made her with her whole body about and then collapse onto the floor while Tiffany cushioned her and hugged her for several minutes. Tiffany stroked her hair until Maggie had recovered from the experience of being buoyed up through floating layers of fogginess and lassitude.

It had been the start.

They often met after that, but their relationship had changed with this new feature to it. Maggie realized over time what affect her first orgasm had on her psyche. She had begun to fantasize and masturbate frequently on her own. Whenever she and Tiffany met though, the sexual element had been introduced and was now rather expected between them. It hadn't all gone the same way. The first three times, Maggie had more less asked Tiffany to tie her up. Each time Tiffany had done so and teased her to orgasm. The fourth time, Tiffany had asked Maggie to tie her up instead. To see 'what it was like.' Maggie remembered teetering on the edge between curiosity and fear as she bound Tiffany's wrists behind her. She hadn't really needed to think much about it though, because Tiffany immediately asked Maggie to play with her vulva as well and from a sense of fairness alone, she had complied. She had fingered her friend through her panties until she thought from her climbing breathing and subsequent grunts that Tiffany had gotten some kind of orgasm out of Maggie's undoubtedly awkward and too rough frigging.

It was difficult to remember after all these years, but Maggie figured she had been tied up at least a half dozen more times after that while she had tied Tiffany up maybe twice in her turn. They had both gotten to achieve orgasm within those experiences though. Once she remembered utterly clearly was at her own house in her own room, hands tied behind her back and Tiffany with her hand up Maggie's skirt diddling away. The danger of a parent sticking their head in at such an awkward moment had made that orgasm especially intense. That time Tiffany had actually pulled Maggie's panties down a bit and put her fingers right on Maggie's privates. It was the first time it had ever happened that way since all the previous episodes had been through clothes or underclothes.

Then the relationship stopped. Not because either Maggie or Tiffany had made a conscious decision to break it off, but because her mother had gotten a better job they had to move. They had promised to write and stay close, but it was the stuff of fantasy. They exchanged a few notes and letters, but a variety of factors had prevented it from happening that way. It was the last time she had ever heard from Tiffany.

Until two days ago.

She had gotten a sudden contact on her Facebook page along with smiling picture of an older woman she vaguely recognized as Tiffany from the depths of her memory. It had made Maggie wonder where all the time had gone. They had caught up partially on-line. Maggie talking about her husband and her two kids who were going to college soon. Tiffany about her own husband, her jet setting lifestyle... her divorce that had led her to move back to the city and buy a house in town. After that first flurry of texting sessions, she had immediately invited Maggie to visit her. Visit her here. At this house where she was standing. To stand awkwardly on the porch of this person who was a woman she realized she barely knew, but who years and years before had tied her up and masturbated her. There were oceans of water that had passed under the bridges of their lives since then and Maggie realized she really knew very little about the Tiffany of today. She hesitated, her finger over the doorbell. She had just made a conscious decision to skip it and pulled her hand back to avoid ringing it.

Then the door was thrown open and the Tiffany of today was standing right there. Smiling. Greeting. Hugging. It was suddenly too late to back out and Maggie found herself entering the rather nicely appointed house, moving down a classic hallway rather than fleeing as she had set out to do just a moment before.

Tiffany closed the door and followed her. Then ended up face to face momentarily in narrow hallway. Tiffany examined her face carefully. Then she smiled broadly, pulling up one corner of her mouth up in irony.

"It has been a lot of years, Maggie. Time has passed, hasn't it? Your life is written on your face. As I am sure mine is too. We aren't girls any more, are we?"

Maggie made polite noises of agreement. Trying to see and understand everything she could of this woman without having any shared recent experiences. She was neatly enough turned out now, with an expensive angled bob haircut and a clean looking streak of white hair breaking up the dark over one ear. She was still big busted. Maggie was aware, as women are, that Tiffany's large C cups were approaching a D cup beneath that blouse. They threatened to dwarf Maggie's own B cup. She wasn't jealous per se, just comparing automatically as feminine culture and instincts somehow called for. Tiffany noticeably wasn't wearing a bra right now; her big nipples were standing erect and tenting her blouse material in a pair of big bulges. Maggie realized that there was a bit a droop to the big boobs within that had not been there in their youth. She might smell of money Maggie reflected in her environment, but she was beginning to pay the toll that gravity charged for her larger mummeries. The revenge of the smaller breasted youth. Money or no, time was pulling those big bosoms downward.

Tiffany smiled at the ranging scrutiny she was getting and put a hand on Maggie's shoulder while holding out the cupped other hand politely in the direction of the kitchen.

"Let's go into the kitchen for a cup of tea, shall we?" She said.