tagErotic CouplingsPam's Present

Pam's Present


I had about two hours until Chris was due to show up for dinner. Pretty much everything was done, except for the last minute things, so I thought about going for a 3K run before my shower. Then I thought better. I'd have my shower then run. I'd still be clean, but the scent would be mine, not something from a store. It was already a day of chances, so I decided to chance this one more. I showered and scratched at the pubic hair growing back. It had just started to turn itchy so I wanted it off, but left it -- for now.

I got my running things on and started down the block. My mind always wanders when I run. That day, it wandered to that last time out with Chris. We both had too much to drink, and I somehow got talking about erotic fantasies. It all started out with this jiggling and that flexing, generic stuff. I guess it was that last vodka tonic -- one of the mental images just grabbed me and ran. Way too late, I realized just how much I had poured out to Chris. When I looked over, all I saw was a rapt expression. Chris just said, "And? What then?"

It had already gotten pretty personal, but I'd trust Chris with anything. I sat a little closer and continued the daydream. When it wound down, Chris aske­d, "Not everything wants to be real. Does this?" I dropped my head for a moment and told the truth. "Yes," in my quietest voice, "Well, uhh..."

Chris just rubbed my shoulder and said, "Thanks, Pam. Thanks for telling me. That was really special." A little while later, we each went to sleep off our incipient hangovers.

A few days later, we met after work. I kind of hoped that Chris had forgotten my indiscretion. Chris sat closer than usual and touched a little more than usual. That hit me on one of my more physical kinds of days, so I enjoyed it too much to really notice it happening. Once the plates were cleared away, Chris sat close and asked, in a low voice, "Did you really mean it the other day? The story you were telling me -- do you want that to happen?"

Chris was my oldest and closest friend. I don't always tell all the truth, but I couldn't lie. "Uh, mostly." I had to look away when I said it.

Chris tipped my chin up and looked me in the eye. "It's OK, Pam. Dream your dreams. But, if you want, I'll play this one out with you. It seemed so real to you -- and your birthday is coming soon."

"Chris, I was out of my mind when I said that." Well, drunk out of my mind, but not so drunk I could deny it. "I didn't mean ..."

"Pam, you did mean. You meant it a lot. If not me, then who? I can do it, I think. Just take it a little slow with me, and we can give you your dream."

That was two weeks ago, and today is my birthday -- or close enough. Chris will be here soon. I strip off my running things and towel off, but I know that anyone close will smell me, real me. I do the next few chores naked, to air dry, then dress. Panties, skirt, blouse, and I go to set the table. I have a glass of wine while I finish, or maybe two.

There's a knock at the door. I tug at my skirt and straighten my blouse, then answer. It's Chris! I step up tiptoe to kiss, then just hug in the doorway. I step back after a moment. Chris steps in and kicks the Berks into closet. The barefoot habit just adds to Chris's aura of sensuality. Another hug and I ask "May we eat?"

I lit candles, even though late sun filtered through the patio wall of my apartment. We sat down at adjacent sides of the table, clinked wine glasses, and dug in. That meant starting with artichokes -- the big round ones had just come in. I like them cold, with a tarragon vinaigrette and a creamy fenugreek dressing for dipping. We dipped, nibbled, and talked as we ate. Chris got down to the choke, looked around, and said, "Let me get some silverware."

I put a hand on Chris's thigh - "Not tonight. This is all finger food." Chris took my hand and laughed. "OK, I guess that's why there's a stack of extra napkins. Fine by me." I got to the choke in mine, too. We picked the fuzzy, inedible bits away from the heart, and dipped this last treat before popping it in out mouths.

"I'll be right with you." My postage-stamp kitchen has no room for two people, and pretty much everything was ready. I moved things through the microwave while I cleared the first course away.

"Whatever you're doing out there smells wonderful. Are you sure I can't help?"

"There's almost nothing to help with." I brought out the last of the dishes and a tray of injerta, the flat Ethiopian bread.

"And we eat this with fingers too?" I nodded and demonstrated: tear off a strip of injerta, fold it around a bit of spicy stew, and pop it in your mouth.

"New rule," I said. "You can't feed yourself." I already had another spicy mouthful ready, and offered it. My white blouse wasn't so white by the end of the meal -- no surprise there. We giggled a lot and had a few accidents. Between fingers brushing lips and the second bottle of wine between us, we struck the sensual mood I had hoped for.

After a while, Chris asked, "All done?" I nodded, finishing the last morsel I'd been fed.

"Me too. Can I help with cleanup?"

"It will just take a minute." I already had refrigerator containers lined up for leftovers and piled dishes in the sink. "Ready for dessert?"

"Girl, I could pop. What are you tempting me with this time?"

"Well, if you don't have room for chocolate fondue, I suppose we don't have to have it."

"You know me too well, don't you?"

I laughed and went at the last-minute preparation. Milk, chocolate, powdered sugar, and some Cointreau -- I like the extra orange flavor. The plate of fruit, walnuts, and coconut was ready in the fridge, just waiting to be uncovered. When I put it out, Chris reached for something to nibble. I batted the hand gently. "Tsk. No feeding yourself, remember?" I picked up a dried apricot and offered it. The way Chris leaned forward, mouth open, was almost too appealing.

Of course, it got a little sloppy. Chris had to lick a dab of chocolate off my finger. I "accidentally" wiped a little on Chris's cheek. I pointed it out and, before Chris's napkin could wipe it up, I said "Here, let me get that." I leaned over and licked it off.

We had always been a little physical with each other, and usually cheek-kissed and hugged each time we met. This was a little more, though. Chris turned a cheek toward me, eyes closed. Even after I was done, Chris held that pose, smiling, for a moment longer than necessary. It hardly surprised me when Chris dipped a finger in chocolate and offered it. After licking around the edges, I took it into my mouth and cleaned the fingertip carefully with my tongue. Chris seemed happy to follow me into this new level of sensuality. After a few more fingertips back and forth, I put a dab on my lip and leaned forward. Chris took the hint, leaned toward me, and licked it clean. While our faces were close, I undid two more buttons on my blouse.

Chris spoke first. "Remember that story you told me, about things you'd like to try some day?"

"Oh yes. And I remember you saying you'd like to help it come true."

"I did, and I want to."

I leaned forward, held Chris by the back of the head, and pulled us together for our first real kiss. It didn't last long, but didn't have to. I undid another button while our faces were close, leaving only one or two at the bottom. We pulled back slowly, examining each others' faces more closely than we had ever done. Warm smiles grew and we came together again, just a little longer.

I reached for the chocolate again as we pulled away. Holding my blouse open with one hand, I dabbed a line of chocolate down my breast and onto my nipple. This had truly taken it to the next level. I offered myself, a little nervous at changing our friendship this way. Chris rose from the chair, came over, and knelt next to me. The line of chocolate vanished under Chris's warm tongue. I lifted my breast, and Chris's mouth enveloped the smudged nipple. I loved the warmth of that mouth, and the way that tongue tugged gently at the pink tip.

Chris sat back, checked for any remaining smudges, then reached for the chocolate. I leaned forward with my eyes closed. I felt a cool draft as the other side of my shirt opened, warm chocolate on the other breast, and a soft mouth cleaning it up. My nipple tightened in Chris's mouth, and I felt extra attention to the stiffened tip. Butterflies in my stomach moved lower, and became a tingle between my legs.

I took Chris's head between my hands, kissed those chocolatey lips and stood up. I lifted Chris, too and asked, "Undress me -- please?" That's how it began. It wasn't really part of the fantasy I had told Chris, but things always change when they move from imagination into the real world. Sometimes, they get better.

Chris took the collar of my blouse in hand and pulled it off one shoulder. As each new inch of skin revealed itself, Chris touched it with kisses. Chris moved around me, pulling the blouse down an inch at a time, kissing across my shoulders and the back of my neck. Once behind me, I felt Chris's arms come around me, first to hug and then to undo the last of the buttons.

The blouse was down to my elbows by that point, more of a hindrance than a piece of clothing. Still behind me, Chris touched my breasts. I felt hands under my breasts, then felt fingertips exploring the thickened tips and arealoae. This was the scariest moment for me. I mean, Chris had seen me undressed before, at least down to my underwear, so it wasn't rational. Still, I was self-conscious about the pounds I'd never been able to lose and about the muffin-top at my skirt's waistband. Angry voices from my past started up again in the back of my mind.

Chris quieted them, holding my extra softness and leaning down to kiss it. Working around me, Chris had reached the front again. The button at my skirt's waistband popped easily, and I heard the zipper open. Chris knelt and tugged the skirt down. When it was just a pile on the floor, Chris looked up at me. I smiled, the scary moment past me, and brushed a bit of hair away from that open face. Chris leaned forward and kissed my mons through the underwear. I heard a deep breath, savoring my scent, and felt Chris's wide cheek against my tummy. Grasping my underwear at each side, the white cloth moved down my hips. It stopped just when it exposed the top of my labia, where the mons folds into two parts, and Chris kissed again. My own scent rose to meet me -- Chris had to be fully aware of it by now.

I bent my knees outward a little, to let Chris pull the underwear down past where my thighs press against each other. Chris took plenty of time, kissing my thighs, knees, and calves on the way down. When I felt kisses on the tops of my feet. I looked down. Chris held the pile of clothing so I could step out of it.

My turn, next. I lifted Chris by the shoulders, to a standing position, then unbuttoned the shirt. I tried to take the time that Chris had with me. Impatience set my pace, though. I knelt to unbutton the jeans and found a happy surprise -- no underwear! Chris's pubic hair appeared at the open fly. I kissed it and inhaled the delicious scent of Chris. Tugging the jeans down, I saw obvious arousal and smelled the sweet, damp musk. Just a touch or two, holding Chris's buttocks in my hands, and I finished stripping the jeans off.

"Come with me?" I heard more of a question than a request in my voice, as I took Chris's hand. I led the way to the bathroom. "Remember how my fantasy started?"

"Pam, I think it's pretty well under way."

I hugged Chris and realized that this was the first time we'd ever touched, skin to skin. Pulling myself away from the electric sensation, I spread a towel on the bathroom counter. "Sit here, would you?" Chris hopped up as I turned to the cabinet behind me. When I turned back with a small pair of scissors in hand, Chris sat in front of me, legs apart, exposed to me like never before. That nervousness I had felt a little while earlier -- I saw it in Chris's face at that moment. I reached out with one hand and caressed. "Beautiful," I whispered. I touched each swelling and fold, and felt slick arousal on my fingertips. By instinct, I pulled my hand back, reveled in the scent on my fingers, and tasted slippery sweetness. "Beautiful."

I knelt and started trimming the thick parts of the pubic hair away. Chris flinched a couple of times, when the cold of the scissors touched something sensitive. I confess, I played a little more than I needed to, learning the feel of my friend's genitals and collecting that unique musk on my hand. I checked one more time, gave a quick kiss to each thigh, and stood. I helped Chris down from the counter, folded the towel, and threw it in the hamper. I'd deal with the trimmings later.

Chris stood, waiting for me to define the next steps. I turned on the shower and collected a new razor from the cabinet. Once the steam began to rise, I led Chris in with me. I put a little shaving cream in my hand and saw Chris stiffen, bracing for what would come next. I rubbed it into my own pubis, though, and saw surprise on Chris's face. This wasn't quite how the fantasy had gone. I figured that, if Chris shaved me first, that it would make things psychologically easier. I popped the cover off the razor, held it out, and asked, "Do me, please?"

I stood with my back to the water and lifted one leg to the side of the tub. Chris knelt and, for a moment, seemed uncertain how to start. Uncertainty didn't last, though. Starting at the top of my mons, Chris worked downward methodically. Another uncertain moment came at the crevice between my labia and thigh. Chris touched me then, spread the crevice with finger and thumb of one hand, and worked the razor with the other. This is why I had left the stubble earlier, to make it clear what needed to be shaved.

After a few minutes, Chris sat back and asked, "How's that?" My outer labia felt nice and smooth, but I felt a little stubble where the lips folded in.

"I think you missed a spot." I stood with my legs even wider and spread myself open. "Here," I pointed, "and here." Chris goggled for a moment, then approached my open vulva with great care. Even more gently than I would have, Chris collected the stubble from next to the pink folds inside.

"All done?" Chris had done a great job on the labia, but I reached low and felt a little more.

"One more thing," I said, "unless it seems like too much."

"I'm here for you, birthday girl."

I turned around, spread my cheeks, and pointed down low. "I think a spot here still needs it." Chris gulped, but went after the last bit of fuzz with delicate determination. I don't think it had quite sunk in yet that I was showing Chris what I'd be doing in just a moment.

Chris finished, I checked, and reveled in the smoothness. I reached for the shower wand, turned it on, and handed it to Chris. "Rinse me?" I stood with my leg up and open again, and Chris washed away the last of the soap -- front and back.

"My turn now," I said. I gave Chris a hug, reveling in the whole-body touch, and we switched positions. I knelt, then, dealt shaving cream into my hand again, and massaged it into what remained of Chris's pubic hair. I felt Chris's genitals fill in my hand, responding to my touch. From this point forward, I wanted the whole evening to be one long, slow buildup.

I started at the edge of Chris's pubic patch and worked my way inward. I erased the 'treasure trail' too, the line of dark hairs leading toward the navel. "Could you put your foot up here?" I patted the side of the tub where I'd put mine, and Chris complied.

The butterflies in my stomach came back as I handled Chris's genitals, carefully shaving each curve and fold. My oldest friend sighed from time to time, and made no mention of the obvious arousal. I finished the front, then reached behind Chris's perineum, up between the cheeks in back. The touch startled Chris out of the gentle revery. That look turned to dismay when I said, "Just a little more. Now turn around." Chris did as I had demonstrated, turning, bending over, and opening to expose the last bit of hair. I saw the dark star of Chris's anus, just as mine had been exposed a moment ago, and saw it flinch into a pucker when the razor touched just below. I had probably done the same, without noticing, but seeing the small, tight muscle working itself fascinated me. I didn't draw the moment out any more than I had to, or not much more, then rinsed the soap off. I started in the back, then had Chris turn and did the front. As Chris had done with me, I opened each fold and rubbed until the soap's slickness was gone.

"Wait here," I asked. I opened the shower curtain, closed the tub drain and started water running. I stepped out of the tub to grab a bath oil -- something herbal with a citrus note, since Chris always met my florals with a wrinkled nose. The water came in at a pleasant temperature, but I turned it up just a touch.

I sat down against the back of the tub (cold!), and motioned Chris to sit between my legs. That long back against my breasts felt wonderful, and I loved that sleek body between my thighs. Chris leaned forward when I asked to turn off the water, then leaned back again. The warm water and my hands on Chris's shoulders soon relaxed my friend's muscles. Soap on my hands lent slickness, so my touch slid easily down Chris's arms and around to the front. Chris stiffened for a moment when my hands first went in front, then relaxed against me. I felt a shiver when I pinched one nipple gently, then the other, but saw a smile on my friend's face. Mostly, though, I massaged with the flat of my hand, feeling those taut nipples sliding under my touch. We washed and played, then made foam sculptures with the shampoo. I almost felt like a kid again, playing in the tub, but with a very adult edge of eroticism under it all. Once the water started to cool, we rinsed off with the wand, spending way too much time with it pointed up between our legs, then toweled each other dry. That turned into play of its own, caressing smooth skin with the soft roughness of towels. It was yet another way to explore Chris's intimacies and to share touch, and Chris explored me again, in turn. Once we were towel-dry, I got out the hair dyer. Its warm wind got the last of the dampness off our skin, but I admit I played with it between Chris's legs, . Chris turned when I asked, and even bent over so I could dry between the cheeks. I'm not sure anyone had ever done this for Chris before, but the relaxed tone and happy smile said that it was welcome attention. Unmistakable arousal confirmed that, and I took every chance to caress Chris's smooth, bare genitals. Once were both fully dry, I dusted Chris with talc (the unscented one), and massaged it in. That gave Chris's skin a dry smoothness that's hard to describe.

I couldn't resist. I took Chris's thigh between my legs, and clamped hard on the long smooth muscles. I reached behind, held Chris's rear, and pulled my mons hard against the leg. The powdery smoothness of skin of skin, leg on leg was nothing I had ever felt before. I couldn't help myself, I was rutting like a cat in heat. When Chris reached behind me and pulled me close, it was too much. It wasn't a big orgasm, but there it was. I held Chris and trembled while it lasted, then slumped against that long, soft form when it passed. I'm not sure why they call it dry humping -- I had certainly left a damp trail down Chris's leg, and received plenty of wetness in return.

It's a good thing Chris was leaning back against the counter, or we might both have ended up on the floor. After moment, Chris tipped my face up and gazed at me. "Was there more you wanted to try?"

I'm sure that Chris remembered the next part of my fantasy, and had just given permission for it to go on. I unlaced myself from that elegant thigh, took Chris's hand, and led to the bedroom. Dusky sunlight still lit the room, but I added light from a candle. I lay down on the new, silk sheets and patted the space next to me. When Chris lay down, I climbed on top, one leg on each side. I collected Chris's hands and held them both in one of mine. Chris had a bemused look. The look froze when I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the belt from my terry robe. I wrapped it around Chris's wrists. I felt arms stiffen, and Chris said, "I don't remember this from the story you told me." "I guess I didn't say it. It's OK, isn't it?"

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