I Just Don't Know . . . Ch. 07

I thought Charlotte was going to pass out. A soft gasp escaped from her lips and the hand that extended to hand Sara the suntan lotion was visibly trembling. Far in the background, Caroline was working hard at pretending to be disinterested, but I could detect eyes that were more open than closed. For my part, having had the conversation with Sara, I was aware that this was, in all likelihood, a staged come on. But, I couldn't deny that it was incredibly sexy and that Sara truly was desirable.

Sara took the lotion and purred, "Stay here and talk to me while I apply this stuff." Charlotte reacted like a puppy, practically wagging her tail as she sat at the bottom edge of the chaise. The conversation was forgettable but Sara's actions weren't. She squirted a trail of the gooey white lotion in an arc over each breast and then commenced to use both of her hands to cover the orbs using slow circuitous motions that ended with her 4 fingers cupping the undersides while her thumbs worked in tandem on her noticeably erect nipples. Staged or not, it was mesmerizing and I, for one, was reacting, right where I live. Charlotte, poor dear, was trying her best not to be obvious, but there was precious little eye contact between the two ladies sharing the chaise. Her bottom squirmed and I'd have loved to have had a heart monitor handy to measure what would have certainly been a rapid little race. Eventually, she returned, albeit reluctantly, to her seat and we all got back to the serious business of soaking up rays. But, Sara had planted a seed just as she had said she might and now, she was the puppeteer and my two silly sisters were being strung along but good.

The next day, I was home alone when the phone rang. It was Sara and I could practically see her smile through the receiver. "Well, how was that?"

"You mean your topless counterattack? Oh, I think you know quite well how that went over. Poor Charlotte was in your thrall. I'm almost afraid to ask what's next." And I meant it. I really didn't see where this was heading.

"Well," replied Sara, "I do have an idea but I will need your help. Would you be available to come over this afternoon for tea? We could discuss it then."

Having nothing on my docket and loving a good-natured double cross, I answered, "Sure. I'd love to. Especially if you're offering one of those English teas with scones and strawberry jam and . . ."

"Yes, and clotted cream, too," Sara said, laughing. "We'll do it right proper," she added, really laying on the accent extra thick. "How's 3:00?"

So, at five after three, there I was at Sara's lovely home. She met me at the door, wearing a lovely pale pink linen dress, and we shared the briefest of greeting hugs. Inside, the home was comfortably stylish and a bit sloppy. There were books everywhere, in bookcases, on side tables, and even piled on the floor here and there. She offered no apology for the disorder and led me to an overstuffed couch where I waited as she fetched the tea tray. It was all very comfortable.

We shared some innocuous chit chat as we had our tea and treats before the conversation turned to those crazy friends of mine. I started. "So, when did you get wise to what was going on?"

"Well," answered Sara, "it was hardly difficult. Remember, I've been in education for years and I've grown quite used to youngsters lying through their teeth to cover their tracks. So, Caroline's cheeky questions and comments were pretty transparent for me. At first, I thought she was just a horny lady who wanted dirt about my private life but, the more she probed, the more I realized she was flirting. Charlotte began to chip in and that's when I was sure they were up to something. I couldn't figure you out, though. You never took part and, honestly, it looked like you disapproved. That's why I decided to talk to you about it." She smiled and went on. "So, was I right? Or are you part of this scandalous conspiracy?"

I returned the smile and said, "Just an observer, ma'am. I tried to dissuade them but, perhaps you've noticed, they're rather persistent once they get an idea."

"Well, I must ask," Sara responded, "Is this out of leftfield, or do your friends have a history . . . with women, I mean?"

The time had arrived. I had to decide whether or not to share our rather interesting history. A few seconds passed, but they felt like an eternity. Could Sara be trusted to be discreet? I figured we were in pretty deep already, so I spilled. I told her all about the steps -- my initial visit to Caroline's deck; our magical trip to New York; Charlotte's discovery and decision to come aboard. I did not, however, tell her about the crazy night where our husbands learned our secrets and joined the party, so to speak. That one stayed in the vault and always would, I felt.

My audience was rapt. Her eyes were on me the entire time, she fidgeted as the story got hotter, and I swear her jaw dropped when I tossed in a few salty illustrative terms. Her response? One word. "Goodness."

I sighed. "So, now you know. I, um . . . I'm comfortable with this. It's become a part of who I am and I've felt it was something that would stay in this small circle. My friends' decision to try to involve you has had me worried but I hope you can maybe defuse the situation and bring them back to earth. That's why I'd be happy to help in your plan in any way I can."

Sara looked a bit flustered. It almost seemed like my revelations had taken her off her game and maybe she was reconsidering whatever it was she had in mind. She finally took a breath, and a sip of tea, before carefully choosing her words. "I wasn't expecting this. I mean, I guess I didn't think you were all so seriously committed to . . . your activities. Suddenly, it's not so frivolous." She paused, took a sip and continued. "You see, I, too, have a bit of a history."

Whoa. Now it was I who was hanging on every word. Sara's hand went to her throat and she looked as if she was trying to compose herself. "Emily, you've shared a great deal with me today, showing enormous trust. I need the same trust from you."

I didn't hesitate. "Of course. Whatever you choose to tell me goes no further, not even to Caroline and Charlotte, if you so desire."

With that, she went on. "You've kept things from your mates, well, so have I. My husband knows nothing about my past . . . my personal past . . . in England, before I came here to go to college. He doesn't know that I had a very serious relationship with a school friend whilst in preparatory school."

Considering the context, there was no doubt that this school friend was not of the male gender. So. Things were rapidly changing before my eyes as Sara went on.

"I won't bore you with the details. (Ha! As if she could!) Just be aware that my friend and I experimented, like many young girls do, and it grew into love and, really, quite incredible passion." Sara's wistful expression seemed to indicate that she was looking back and reliving a very special part of her life.

I spoke up. "It sounds as though it is something you cherish. Are you . . . are you telling me there's something in you that wants to . . . rekindle? Like, maybe the idea of re-experiencing . . ." I stopped, fearing that if I had misjudged, I could really be making an ass of myself.

Sara's look eased my fears. She locked eyes with me and nodded, ever so slightly. Then, the tiniest hint of a smile. "That's it exactly. I've never forgotten it. I've never gotten over it. It was . . . it was enough that I thought I was a lesbian." When she paused, there was such a depth of silence in the room. I waited, not wanting to overreact. "It's really one reason I came to America, a big reason. I had to find out who I was. I stayed open to whatever developed and what happened was, I met my husband and fell deeply in love. And, that was that."

I probed. "But, it was always there?"

"Yes. Exactly. I would meet an attractive woman, someone who sent out a certain sensuality, and I'd have this realization that I wanted her. I wanted to have that experience again. And, lo and behold, along come your two game players. I brought you here intending to see if I could set up some charade to make it seem to you that I was stringing them along, but, in truth, I was thinking there might be a way for me to satisfy what has become an enormous craving."

So, there it was, cards on the table. Caroline and Charlotte had accidently stumbled on a somewhat willing participant! Oh, happy day! Yeah, right. Now, what?

"You say you intended to have me serve as some sort of co-conspirator. Have things changed?" I asked, wondering as I did, where was this heading?

Sara answered, clearing up all possible misinterpretations. "Yes, Emily. Things have changed. If I'm going to take care of this itch (Goodness, what a choice of word, I thought!), I want it to be with someone I trust, and who I like, and who turns me on enormously."

Hmmm. It dawned on me that Sara was not talking about Nicole Kidman. Her unwavering gaze was on dear little me. I was it. And, as luck would have it, this advance did not repulse me. No, not in the least. On the contrary, I was already imagining myself undressing the lovely school principal and helping her to some remediation. But, I knew, despite pounding heart, it was best to stay cool. So, I returned the gaze and quietly said, "Anyone in particular who fits the bill?"

Sara nodded. "Yes, she's right here, in this room." She stood and smoothed her dress. She crossed the few feet between us and beckoned me to stand. I did so and she took both of my hands in hers. "Will you help me, Emily? Will you take me back in time? I want this so."

My mind raced. I noticed our heights were identical, that she had a scent of gardenias, that her hands were trembling -- or maybe, it was mine. And, I committed. Spur of the moment, no time to think deeply, I just let my heart, or my loins, take me over the line and I kissed her. Right then and there, I moved into her and kissed her, soft and slow, and eventually deep, breathing in the taste of strawberries and cream that we had just tasted minutes earlier. All thoughts of giving this sort of thing up for the good of all concerned simply disappeared.

"How much time do we have?" I whispered in her ear.

"It's after four," she answered. "My husband will be home by six."

"No earlier?"

"Never."

"Then we had best get busy," I purred. "Take me to your bed."

And she did. I had a moment's fear of leaving behind traces -- scents, wetness -- but, as we climbed the stairs and entered the master bedroom, I thought that if Sara wasn't worried, why should I be? She had my hand in hers and I could hear her breathing, aroused and excited.

At the foot of her bed, Sara turned to me and put her arms around my back. "This is a dream. It's been so long and I've wanted this ever so badly." Her eyes filled and she pulled me in for another kiss, harder this time, accompanied by a guttural moan that told me just how needy this woman was. Her lips were full and soft and scented while her tongue gently probed my mouth until I took if between my teeth and sucked, causing her to gasp slightly. I considered the time constraints and knew that this was going to be quick and hot. The kissing was so nice, though, I certainly was in no hurry to bring this stage to an end.

At last, I broke free and moved back just far enough to give me room to attack the buttons which covered the front of Sara's dress. They extended down below her waist and I found myself on my knees, spreading the linen garment as it slipped from her shoulders and slid to the floor, pooling around her feet. Chaste white panties and a simple white cotton bra were all that remained of Sara's clothing and I drank in the sight of her as my hands held her at the waist. It was awfully easy to move them down and around to the back giving me a handful of bottom to dig into with my fingers. Apparently, this met with her approval as Sara sighed softly from behind a very satisfied expression. Her hands locked together at the back of my head and gently pulled me to her, the result being that my cheek ended up pressed against her tummy, right above the waistband of her panty. I stayed there and gradually lowered the garment over her hips and down her legs until it rested in a puddle around her ankles. I inched my face lower until my lips were buried in the silky tangle of coarse, dark brown pubic hair that concealed Sara's feminine jewels from my sight.

"Oh. Fuck. Yes." Sara's voice above my head again told me of her urgent needs. I decided to make this all about her, and to be quick about it. My right hand found her right knee and began a steady ascent up the inside of her thigh. I encountered a wet trickle before reaching my ultimate target and pressed on. Her pussy lips were puffy and positively coated with her aroused wetness. I spread them with two fingers and lightly pinched the hood that concealed my target. Sara shivered and swooned a bit at that point. When my index finger found and traced the outline of her clit, while my pinky and ring finger slid into her, she made a sound that was otherworldly. Her knees buckled and I saw her hand reach for the edge of her bed in order to keep herself upright.

Between gasps, Sara found enough control to beg, "Oh, Emily. That feels . . . incredible. Go deeper, please. Make me cum." Good. We agreed on the mission statement. I figured it wouldn't be hard and decided to add a tongue to the digital attack. Spreading her lips wide by using both my hands, I dove in with a long, slow, wet lick. And then again. And again. I've always responded well to words during sex so, while coming up for air, I purred, with as much heat as I could muster, "Oh, Sara, you have a delicious cunt." Then right back to work. I could hear Sara's response above me, a long, low moan which went on and on, building in intensity, in tandem with forward hip thrusts, rhythmic and stronger and stronger and then, a jerk, a convulsive push and then wetness all over my mouth, a drenching liquid coating of female.

My God, I thought. So quick. How badly had she needed this? How long had she thought about it? Whatever, here I was, still entirely dressed and now, there was Sara, looking quite the sight -- bent at the waist onto her bed, panties at her feet, bra still on -- and breathing as though she had sprinted through a marathon. I was still on my knees at the foot of the bed and, except for some badly smeared makeup, I probably could've answered the front door and nobody would've been any the wiser. But, of course, I had no interest in doorbells or makeup. I wanted mine. Sara's intense reaction had wound me up pretty good and I hoped that lady throbbing on the bed wanted to relive what it was like to give, as well as to get, female pleasuring.

I stood and walked to her, then gently lifted the rest of her onto the bed. She started to speak but I put a finger to her lips. Without a word, I stood over her and undressed. I pulled my polo over my head and undid my bra, all the while attempting to maintain eye contact. For her part, Sara looked mesmerized as she struggled to regulate her still-labored breathing. I arched my back a bit, trying to show off my boobs, as I unzipped my khaki slacks and then slithered out of my lace-trimmed panties. I stood naked above her and, on the spur of the moment, cupped my breasts and asked, "Do you want these?" I lowered both hands to my privates, spread my legs slightly and asked, "And this. Do you want this?" Where this wanton woman had come from I will never know, but I felt totally in control and quite wicked. Sara merely nodded, as if to say, "Oh, yes. You know I do."

I climbed onto the bed and straddled her at waist level. I lowered my arms until my hands were either side of her face and slowly approached her face with mine. "Here. Taste what you taste like, " I whispered and kissed her, putting as much of my mouth and tongue on her as I could. She moaned into me as we kissed and as our breasts mashed together. My knee had worked its way between hers and a delicious rhythm started as our female parts ground together. I liked being in control, on top, and instinctively, pressed my advantage, breaking the kiss and pushing up away from her with my arms extended. Again, I stared at her hard and sat above her briefly before beginning to move. Up. Higher along her body until my crotch had cleared her breasts and now was poised above her jaw.

"Look at me, Sara. Look at my pussy. See how wet it is." I paused and spread my knees a bit wider on either side of her head, bringing my private parts closer to her wide open eyes. "I want you to taste me now, Sara."

I could barely see Sara's eyes but it was easy to imagine the lustful look they would have betrayed. Her arms came up and her hands took firm hold of my ass. She pulled me down to her and began hungry, long slurps all over my pussy, using her lovely, long tongue to invade me, finding my clit and greedily sucking on it. It was heavenly. I, meanwhile, was able to remove my extended arms from the headboard and spend some time pinching my nipples, in rhythm to the way I was grinding myself into Sara's willing mouth. For an instant, I realized that I had crossed the line back into this taboo behavior that I had sworn off of, but I was hardly in any mood to stop it. Particularly since I felt an enormous orgasm welling up quite close to the surface.

That moment was triggered by words. Sara's words. Pulling away from her attack briefly, she half moaned, half gasped, "You're fucking delicious!" Then back at it, that magnificent tongue piercing me like a cock, in and out, in and out, until there was no stopping it. I came in a torrent, falling forward as I sobbed. Rubbing into her without a thought of how I might be scratching her face with my pubes. Pure, raw passion -- it'll take you right out of your senses.

I was finally able to come down and climbed off her. Breathing like a freight train, I lay beside her. "Welcome back," I murmured. Sara just purred. She, too, had been taken to another place.

After a few minutes, our breathing slowly returning to normal, she spoke. "Emily, thank you. That was . . . glorious." Her expression showed she meant it. "Now promise me, you'll be discreet. In my position, any word of behavior like this . . ." Suddenly, she really did look concerned. I thought back to my own panic attack when Caroline and I visited New York City and my life changed.

"Sara," I spoke softly. "You have nothing to worry about. I will tell no one of this, I promise. Not even Charlotte and Caroline. You have my solemn oath." And, I meant every word. "As a matter of fact, it might be a good idea if I were to tell them that I came over here today, at your invitation, and you told me you knew what was going on. You told me how upset you were by it and asked me to somehow let them know that they had to stop." I smiled. "How does that sound?"

Sara had been looking up at the ceiling but now, she turned on her pillow and faced me. "That makes great sense, Emily." She paused, and added, practically purring, "Or . . ."

"Or?" Uh-oh.

"Or . . . the four of us could go for a girls' weekend to the shore. My husband and I have rented a lovely little cottage there before. Two bedrooms. Might be fun."

Damn. What next?