The Link

This story... in it lies some truth, some fiction, lots of fantasy, and a bit of potential as it's my first masturbation story for lit.

I like exploring sexuality, friendship, and love along with the dynamics and fluidity of all three.

It's fun when I can get things out creatively.

Enjoy the read – I dare you.

-Wynter

*****

I hadn't thought about her – Lexie - this vividly in years. She was always there, haunting my fantasies. But long ago the vividness had faded, for various reasons. Now she was back in my head, and she'd brought along a friend.

This reboot came about, in part, from an innocent text, which turned into an innocent lunch that served to remind me of the effect Lexie had always had on me. I didn't (and don't) understand it any more than I had years before, but I remembered it was a connection based in love, lust, and a general agreement to explore and share. There was an unconditional friendship there. That friendship allowed a level of comfort that always pushed back my shyness and allowed my other... side ... to come out and play. I'd missed that.

It was dangerous.

I was in control, however. Polite society meant, given both of our situations, I would keep that all of that extra shit to myself. I am the queen of compartmentalization. I will quickly box it up and fed-ex it to a slot in my brain where it will only barely if at all, get revived through drunken reflection and some movies or music – yay triggers.

My control slipped, however, when Lexie sent me a link to something she'd written.

Stories.

Erotica.

Our thing.

Literally how we met.

Kara and Jasmine, my characters that inspired her to write.

Hell, we'd even kind of written one together – though I hadn't read it in years.

Back at my hotel room, I contemplated whether I should follow the link and read Lexie's story. I remembered the time when I printed and bound her favorite stories, of the ones I'd written and posted online. I signed the bound work, with some mushiness I am sure, then gifted it to her. I couldn't remember what mushiness I wrote. I wasn't even sure if she still had the thing. The memory didn't hold any unsettled pain or longing; it brought with it a feeling of happiness that added a smile to my face. It also reminded me how being around her made me a complete and utter dork.

I was alone in my hotel room, and since I had some hours to kill I decided, for old times' sake, I'd read a couple of chapters – there were 30 or so.

The addiction was instant.

It was one of the best stories I'd read in over a year. Lexie's descriptions were amazing and painted vivid pictures in my mind. It was fanfic, which generally I don't read, about two gorgeous actresses/singers that I was vaguely aware of and a male rapper that I couldn't stand.

However, none of that mattered.

Lexie's author voice was clear throughout the story. There were definitely phrasing and gestures that felt comfortable, familiar, and insanely erotic. The identities of the characters in real life took a backseat to the intoxicating renditions of them in the smut tale she weaved. I didn't need to use much imagination; I could picture every scene. I could feel when the actresses fell in love. It was like I could feel every kiss, take in every smell, and my body arched every time there was a hint of fingers sliding into wetness or tongues tracing over clits or nipples.

Nipple play. My weakness. The torturous details of gentle kisses turning into rough play and bites had my nipples aching and hard where they pressed against the inside of my bra. It took me maybe two hours to read the first 15 chapters. That time included a couple re-reads, some pauses to get myself together, and two panty changes.

Yes, I was that wet.

The week before I'd gotten a Brazilian wax – a sexy and freeing experience all its own – so my normal wetness was amplified inside my panties. Yeah, we'll go with that. I was trying to keep myself under control since I'd made a promise to myself that if I read the story, I would not, at least, masturbate to it - no matter what. In keeping with that promise, my hands stayed out of my panties.

I slipped once.

My left hand slid under my jeans, the pressure forcing it against the heat of my purple and black panty clad pussy. I cupped myself thinking that the pressure would calm me down enough to continue reading. Instead, as my legs spread a little to allow my full hand to surround my puffy excitement, I realized how excited I actually was. My pussy was hot, drenched and throbbing.

The only way to keep my promise to myself was to remove my hand quickly. I gave my lips a tortuous little squeeze that forced a shiver through my whole body. Then, just as quickly, I dropped my phone, jumped from the bed, and raced to the bathroom to change.

After re-reading a scene that involved one actress sitting back playing with herself as she watched the other actress and her rapper-fiancé fuck, I found myself completely soaked again. My brain was caught up in the scene, first with the story's characters, then with US as characters.

Me.

Watching her.

With her wife.

We'd always talked about... we'd always hinted at... sharing was caring?

There was no way.

I mean I knew her.

Well, I did at one point. I was sure, however, that anybody Lexie loved enough to marry would have to be amazing. Hell, I'd seen pictures (yay Facebook!) I already knew her wife was adorably hot. But, amazing and hot did not necessarily equal, "hey babe, let your ex watch us fuck."

In my head though...

The more I thought about it. The more I wanted... to play. My mind flooded with images from the story swapping in and out with fantastic notions dancing in my head. My nipples were hard enough to cut glass. My hips had taken to rocking of their own volition. My pussy ached to be played with and filled even as it leaked untouched in my panties and jeans.

This time I threw the phone down, stripped and jumped in the shower. I let the cold water wash away as much of my immediate need as I could. By the time I stepped out of the shower I was shivering for a completely different reason. Luckily, there was only a low thud coming from my libido.

I re-dressed and headed out for a night in Music City. During the evening, if my mind strayed to the story, I curtailed it with thoughts of animal Youtube videos. That's right; you try to be horny while thinking about kittens. A particularly favorite disrupter was the viral video of a bunch of goats just randomly yelling. A few times, the memory of the video wasn't distracting enough, so I had to stop and pull the actual video up on my phone.

___________

The next morning, with hours of separation between myself and the prior day's lunch and story reading, I thought it was safe to go back in and finish the story. I am kind of a bibliophile, which means I love books. Attached to that love is an aversion not finishing any story I've started reading. So, I couldn't just walk away.

Diligently, I finished the remaining chapters.

I was throbbing and aching as much, if not more than the day before. The story's three characters had finally consummated a full-on threesome, and it was heavenly to imagine.

Unfortunately for my self-promise, I knew there wasn't a chance in hell I would be able to survive the day without an orgasm. It didn't matter how much I compartmentalized in my head; no amount of trickery was going to let me function with those images swirling in my mind unchecked.

I decided then and there; I would make amends to myself later.

My compromise was simple. Instead of a long, drawn out session where I teased myself until I couldn't take it anymore, I'd give myself a quickie. A nice fast session just to take the edge off. If I wasn't going to keep my promise about not letting Lexie's words drive me to make myself cum, I could at least not enjoy it full throttle.

Right?

With little hesitation, my right hand found it's way under my tank top. Thanks to braless nights and early mornings access to my full DDD breasts and aching nipples came fast. My nipples are petite, small and brown like little chocolate drops surrounded by cute freckle patches. Their sensitivity designated them as an immediate and direct line to my clit. My nipples were easily the most sensitive – exposed at least – part of my body, with the only exception being my back.

My back.

My mind landed on the memory of the lunch the day before and the first hug in over eight years. I could clearly recall the feel of Lexie's fingers on my back. I moaned as the thought seeped in; I pushed it aside to envision her story's two female leads kissing for the first time.

My mind skipped ahead to the scene where one actress realized her lover loved having her nipples nibbled, bitten and tortured.

I roughly rubbed, squeezed, and pulled at my nipples in answer to the image. A moan, almost growl like, escaped my mouth followed promptly by the words, "Fuck me!"

Fuck me.

I didn't know whether it was an exclamation because touching myself felt so good.

Or whether I was begging for someone to actually come in and fuck me.

My hand slipped into my night pants. There wasn't any unmasking or figuring things out this time. It was instantly obvious that I was soaked. Normally, I tease myself. I cup my heat. I play with my clit through my panties until I am arching and panting. I'll wait it out and hold off, sliding a finger in until I am gasping for air. Then I will roughly shove in three fingers as I greedily crave more.

My eyes were closed tight, my mind back in the story. One of the beauties was taking three of the other one's fingers. I desperately wanted to read a scene where they tried for four fingers, maybe a whole fist. What would the male character do if he saw his fiancé take that many of her lover's fingers? I drooled over the thought of his fiancé riding her girl's fist while he slowly slid into her ass.

Before the image could completely form in my mind, the scene had swapped again. Instead of the characters from the story, I was watching as Lexie's wife fisted her wife while using a string of multi-sized anal beads to take her ass at the same time.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to explain why my mind took me there, but it did; the vivid imagery certainly blew my mind. The fingers of one hand assaulted my left nipple as three of my other fingers sawed in and out of my soaked walls. Each pass made my thighs a little wetter, a little stickier. My thumb pressed against my clit even as I arched closer and harder against my hand, trying to trap it between my thighs. The pressure was intense, and it was always what ultimately did it for me; pressure dancing along the edge of pain.

I tried to remember the sounds of moans from long ago, but at that moment I couldn't. All

I could imagine was the words from Lexie's characters falling from real live lips, whispered in desire filled hushed tones.

Naughty girl.

Bad girl.

Be a good girl.

Come for us.

I came undone. My pussy spasmed, working hard to pull my fingers farther into my body even as it tried to expel them. My nipples throbbed somewhere between begging for more and praying I never touched them again. My feet tangled in sheets, as my head pushed back against the firmness of pillows stacked against the headboard. My moans were loud; they were out done only by the stream of "fucks" and "fuck me" that followed.

Later, I was thankful that my room was at the end of the hall.

Additionally, I was thankful that I was in a hotel and could call down for more sheets. The ones I'd been laying on were completely and utterly soaked as were my sleep pants and panties.

I'd squirted.

The realization brought a giggle to my lips that turned into mildly hysterical laughter. My brain was swiimming in post orgasm fog, but I knew the exact moment I had propelled myself pass standard orgasm and into the land of complete release.

Lexie's eyes... I remembered the look.

Her wife's adorable face. One I didn't know in that way, but that I could imagine...

Picturing them both, staring at me...

Once again, I felt like a complete and utter dork.

The laughter continued for at least another few minutes.

Using my left hand, the hand that spent its time torturing my now very tender nipples, I picked up my phone to type out a text.

(12:11 PM) Message To: Lexie

Finished reading your story.

(12:11 PM) Message From: Lexie

The whole thing?

(12:11 PM) Message To: Lexie

Yes.

(12:12 PM) Message From: Lexie

Wow! What did you think?

I slowly licked the fingers I'd just removed from between my thighs.

(12:12 PM) Message To: Lexie

...

To be continued... (maybe)