My first girl-girl experience took place in college with my roommate, Crystal. We were graduating, and we’d gotten really ripped at a party. The next thing I knew we were on someone’s bed on a pile of coats, making out! Neither of us felt weird the next morning. We actually laughed about it!
But we lost touch after graduation. Every now and then I’d think about Crystal and wonder what it would have been like to do more than just kiss her. And then, after about five years, I ran into her! I had just started a new job, and she worked a few blocks away from me. We went out a few times after work, and then one day she invited me over to her place for the weekend to watch movies while her boyfriend was away visiting his family.
When Crystal and I were in college we used to host movie-marathon weekends, which meant we had a constant flow of friends coming and going who brought pizza, beer, wine and lots of joints. Each marathon had a theme, and nothing was taboo. We even had occasional porn nights. I really missed those marathon weekends—my boyfriend isn’t into films—so I jumped at the invite.
I met Connie at a wedding reception a few months ago, and we hit it off right away. We’re both in our early 30s and married with no children. But our biggest common link is that both our men are currently serving in Afghanistan.
We started spending a lot of our free time together, and one night decided to indulge in some eye candy at a male strip club. My husband and I love going to strip clubs because afterward we always have amazing sex. That night I knew I wouldn’t have him there to satisfy my needs when I got home, but I’d have my trusty vibrator to take the edge off.
Connie and I had the absolute best time watching all those gorgeous men as they stripped, stuffing cash in their G-strings. We even treated ourselves to lap dances from this one particular guy who left us both hot and horny.
After leaving the club, we went to Connie’s place to hang out, and we started talking about how hot the guys at the club were. I’d been to enough clubs with my husband that I knew what was involved, but I just hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell him how much fun it would be if we both got lap dances at the same time. However, that night something made me tell Connie that I’d always wanted to get a lap dance from a girl. She didn’t miss a beat. She said to save my money, because she was going to give me that dance!
My friend Gigi hates staying by herself, so she always comes over to my house when her husband goes out of town. She knows she has an open invitation to stay with me until Mike returns from his business trips. She spends so much time at my place that she has her own drawer in my dresser with her clothes and other essentials so she doesn’t even have to pack a bag.
It’s a great arrangement, but it’s not as innocent as it sounds, because whenever Gigi comes over, we hook up. I don’t have a preference when it comes to gender. I like men and women. But so far Gigi’s only foray into girl-on-girl sex has been with me. She says she doesn’t want to be with any other women, and that works just fine. She knows I’ll keep this just between us, and it won’t get back to Mike until she decides she’s ready to tell him.
A few weeks ago when he had a business trip she called to say that she would be staying with me for a full two weeks! As soon as she arrived we ordered some Chinese food. After dinner we decided to watch one of our favorite porn flicks. It had barely started when we were sitting close, touching and feeling each other up. Then we were kissing.
Two months earlier, my company had outsourced all our jobs and shut down our location, so this day I was once again sleeping in. My husband had left for work hours ago when something woke me.
It was Sylvie, the girl in the apartment upstairs. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was up to. Her creaking bed was slamming into the wall and bouncing loudly on the floor, and their squeaks and grunts eliminated any possible doubt. The whole thing excited me tremendously, to the point that I began rubbing myself as I listened to the sounds of their fucking.
Just as the noise upstairs died down, I had a strong climax. I lay there for about a half hour contemplating whether to get out of bed, but I didn’t really have anything to do. Then the noise upstairs began again. Dominick (my husband) and I barely do it twice a week, and here was Sylvie doing it twice in one hour!
I finally got up and showered, then put on matching bra and panties and a black knit dress. I looked at myself in the mirror, taking in my long legs, tight ass and ample bosom. Why couldn’t I inspire hot sex from Dominick like Sylvie was doing to her guy upstairs?
I intended to find out!
The first time the bartender asked me what she could get me, I came close to saying: “You! With your legs spread wide right on top of the bar.” Because that’s what I wanted, and in the worst way.
I wanted to bury my face in her pussy and lick her till she screamed from pleasure. If you’d seen Marley, you might have experienced the very same hot, wet lust. She has long black hair with electric blue streaks running through it, sharp facial features with a little gold hoop through her nose, and a slim figure like a dancer.
Watching Marley behind the bar is kind of like watching a professional dancer. Her moves are confident, fluid and sexy. She favors stretch pants that hug her perfect ass and tight shirts that reveal her midriff and taut stomach. Her sculpted body makes me hot and wet as she reaches for whatever spirit and additional ingredients she needs to concoct a cocktail. She’ll carry on a running conversation with you while she shakes and stirs, making it all look effortless.
I love watching Marley, and from the first time I saw her, I knew I wanted her. Even if it was for just one night, I wanted to know how she tasted, and I wanted her to taste me.
According to the tracking information, the package I’d ordered for my girlfriend’s birthday was due to arrive that day. It was a secret, but I knew she’d love it.
I spent the entire morning pacing and looking out the front window each time I heard a truck go by. Finally a truck stopped, and yes, it was UPS, but it was the guy who always hit on me. I’d told him I had a girlfriend, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, that bit of news actually seemed to increase his interest! If he only knew the kind of fun Rita and I would have with him, he would run for the hills!
He barely had touched the doorbell when I opened the door. He immediately started chatting, but all I could think about was the box of toys he was holding in his hands. I signed for it as quickly as I could and practically slammed the door in his face. Now all I had to do was wait for Rita to come home so we could play! That left me all day to think about how we would use the new treasures.
Three hours later, when I heard a car door slam and the beep of an alarm being set, I knew Rita was home. As soon as she walked in, I closed the door and pulled her close. I caressed her neck with one hand and with the other raised her blouse to fondle her soft breasts. When she pulled my shirt up, I felt heat that started in my pussy and spread upward through my body. I unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and slid my hand in her panties to feel her moist heat.
The other day I paid a visit to my favorite upscale department store to look for a few items to add to my summer wardrobe. I wore a cotton floral sundress with wide shoulder straps and a low-cut neckline that revealed a hint of cleavage. It was very comfortable and exhibited my slim figure very well. Wearing eye-catching outfits puts me in a youthful frame of mind, and the fact that in my late 30s I can still turn a few male heads is great for my ego. Also, my husband secretly enjoys knowing that he’s not the only man who lusts after my body.
I even get propositioned once in a while, but I never actually cheated on my husband—except once, on an impulse, when he was out of town and I had to call a plumber to fix a clogged pipe under my kitchen sink. The plumber was young and tall and I was horny, and we ended up doing it on the kitchen floor. He unclogged my pipe and I unclogged his. He had the biggest pipe I ever saw, and it took several attempts to empty it completely. I felt guilty afterwards, but I never told my husband.
At the store I rode the escalator to the third floor, where the high-fashion ladies’ apparel was located. I did a quick sweep through the floor to get a feeling for the season’s merchandise, and then began picking up outfits to take to the dressing room to try on.
I’d been at my present job a mere eight months when management offered me a promotion. It was more responsibility and longer hours, but with it came a hefty increase and perks like business travel and out-of-town seminars.
So I had less time to get laid, but I gained an opportunity to meet new people. Not that there was anything wrong with my coworkers. They were friendly enough, but they were mostly guys in their 40s and 50s. I’m 25, with a banging figure and a pretty face, or so I’ve been told. Old guys just don’t do it for me, and neither do middle-aged women—not yet, anyway.
So here I was at a week-long seminar at a five-star hotel in Chi Town, with lots of other 20- and 30-somethings, and my libido was chomping at the bit. While the instructor droned on, the thought that kept running through my head like an endless loop was: “so many girls, so little time.” There were a few awesome-looking guys too, but I was in the mood for pussy, not dick.
I hadn’t been home in several months. The only reason I was making the five-hour drive was because an uncle I barely remembered had died and my presence had been requested. The problem is that I have this thing about funerals. No way was I going to the cemetery!
So I’d told my parents that I would try to make it but that if I got caught in traffic I’d be at the house when they returned. They’d invited everyone back there after the burial, so it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t see all my relatives and family friends.
I took my time driving, and when I finally arrived at the house, it was packed. I saw my family and made the rounds, offering condolences to the bereaved while doing my best to dodge the nosy questions—about why I was still single—being peppered at me by my meddlesome aunts. I grabbed a plate, piled it with as much food as I could, snagged a bottle of vodka from behind the bar and after stowing it in my tote slipped down to the basement.
She was staring at me again—the new girl from accounting. I was certain I hadn’t met her before, but every time I turned around she seemed to have me in her sights. There was a guy standing close to her near the bar, talking nonstop, oblivious to the fact that she was ignoring him.
I turned my attention back to my friends, and my drink. Company parties were few and far between, but holidays were the exception, and I intended to make the most of the night. One of my coworkers asked me to dance, and I followed him out to the floor, still holding my drink. We wedged our way to the middle of the floor and started to move. We danced through three songs before heading back to our group.
On the way back to our table I looked over to where I’d last seen the girl. She was right there, staring at me. She was pretty and kind of exotic-looking. If I didn’t know better, and if the same guy hadn’t still been all over her, I would have thought she was into me. But that couldn’t be. I wasn’t the biggest slut in the office, but I had fucked my fare share of guys in the company. I’d never hooked up with any women in the office, though, and I was always the aggressor. Being checked out by a girl was new to me.