Among my friends from all my life, one of the ones I appreciate most is Andrea, a wonderful and uninterested person, somewhat reserved and quiet, but a true friend that you can count on. Something older than me. I think she's about to turn 24, but she has always sought support from me as if I were her older sister, since she is an only child.
I was left speechless when she confessed to being lesbian, about three years ago. But at the same time, a lot of stories that I had intuited and almost knew for sure about her were explained to me.
The first thing, like a blonde with 172 cm and a body like those we all envy, didn't go out with guys, I only met one boy at 17 years old who was really cute but never got serious. Another thing she told me about herself was her reserved character, I think her shyness and introversion were motivated by the anxiety she lived with while keeping her sexual orientation a secret. But above all, she explained some intimate episodes that had happened between us and left me confused.
As good friends, we had slept together many times, both at my place and hers.
One of those times, already years ago, we went to the bathroom before going to bed after playing tennis with a mutual friend and needed a good shower. Well, while in the bathtub, Andrea picked up the sponge, got down on her knees in front of me, and started washing me. I was laughing at the tickles and she was too. She turned off the gel and let it fall onto my breasts, we were around 15 years old, she was having fun, always laughing, with the sponge on my nipples. I laughed nervously, thought it was just a game, but my nipples got hard and erect, and the sponge kept going. It was a situation that didn't feel comfortable to me, but the laughter hid her excitement and my confusion. I closed my eyes... I dared to look at her directly. She didn't give up, turning and turning around my breasts now one, now the other and starting again, emphasizing my prominent nipples. I knew in the back of my mind that I was getting excited but my subconscious denied it, pretending it was just simple relaxation with friends as the only explanation.
I remember that the circumstances changed suddenly, my little thing was under warm water but hotter than the liquid element, she stopped laughing suddenly and looking at me, submerged her hand and began to rub me right there.
For a good while, confusion overwhelmed me so much I didn't react, the massage on my breasts had left me receptive so I remained motionless, the truth is, I was enjoying it so much! She rubbed me softer and more slowly below, I reclined in the bathtub, my eyes half-closed, she still on her knees, between my legs, applying a deeper cleaning than my pussy had suffered in life.
One of her fingers came out of the sponge and gave me a light, imperceptible caress on my clitoris, but to me it was like an electric shock. I closed my legs abruptly and to hide the startle told her: Now I'm. My heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour as I applied soap to her body, yes, in a much less erotic way. I finished quickly, told her I was tired and we should go to sleep. The impact of the situation lasted for days, I think weeks.
She must have noticed my rejection and as a good friend didn't insist on her approach anymore, showing exquisite respect by not revealing any other detail about her unmistakable tendency. With time, the incident fell into the bag of things that neither are forgotten nor occupy your mind habitually, I attributed it to puberty we were living through and which facilitates such situations.
But I still conserve another episode with Andrea, which happened just before her confession of homosexuality, in fact, I think it was the one who directly motivated her. I've told you that about three years ago from that confession. So, I had nineteen and she a year and a half more. Well, we went to a concert with a large group of friends, about fifteen in total, a few days before this happened. We danced, drank, and laughed a lot, but I drank a lot too. The venue where it took place was near my house and far from hers, so we had already told our families that she would sleep over at my house. I got pretty drunk and was also defeated. When we entered the house, we did it quietly so my parents wouldn't hear us and closed the door with a latch. I told Andrea something had gone wrong with me. What was happening to me was like a tub! I couldn't even undress and my tongue was tied up. This part can't be recounted accurately except under the unreal perception of things that one has when drunk. But I'll tell you my memories. Everything was spinning around, Andrea fell onto the bed and left quietly, everything seemed like a roller coaster to me. She came back with a cold wet cloth and put it on my forehead, what relief! It was hot, summer, there wasn't much clothes to take off and yet Andrea took ages to remove each piece. The first toe came out of my shoe and she massaged it so sweetly and skillfully that only the contact of her hands relaxed and relieved me to a point that can't be explained, her thin and fresh fingers on the arches of my foot, then slipping between my toes, kneading my sore heel from dancing. Sometimes I thought I felt her tongue but was too drunk and the massage too good for frivolities. Now I know it was her tongue, definitely, slipping into every fold, delighting in them, moistening the hollows where she later introduced her hands. Massage and kisses, tongue and fingers. After that, I felt my other foot being unshod and Everything started over again. I couldn't calculate the time it lasted. But I fell asleep, exhausted.
I woke up when she turned me over to take off my black top and checked that I was without pants and underwear, I didn't remember when I had taken them off but as I took off the top, I was naked. A feeling of freedom and relief ran through me. It was so hot.
Only when she held my head to recline me back did I realize she was also naked. Her white breasts shone framed by her long blonde hair in the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the moonlight filtering between the curtains.
You're going to give me some cream, she said, it will refresh you. I went back to lying down, my eyes half-closed, enjoying that. It was true everything she did she did with such sweetness and wisdom that it would have made me feel terrible and still without losing the effects of the hangover, but instead I felt like an angel, in a state between sleep and daydreaming.
Her hands ran over my entire body, from my feet to my thighs, hips, belly, breasts, arms. Smothering me with scented cream, leaving my skin fresh and slippery. She was a master, she didn't attack suddenly, maybe that would have provoked my rejection again.
In some passes her hand rubbed against my pubis, playing with the hair, in another an imperceptible pinch on my nipple, then a sweet kiss on my lips and when everything was already sliding and the freshness of the cream almost gave me shivers, her breasts ran over mine, providing the warmth I needed. She was a professor, my clitoris got wet without me being aware of it and yet she kept preparing me, sensitizing each one of my neurons, one by one.
She turned me over and opened my legs, positioning herself between them. Her body had gotten smeared with cream on mine so that only a few drops on my back were enough.
I felt her light weight on my back, her breasts oozing with cream, it was A doctor of sensuality science, and I think our friendship love was something more, it showed. I couldn't resist, nor did I want to, what the hell! when her fingers started playing with my bum and my clam at the same time, going up and down, I felt a finger penetrating my little thing and another massaging my clitoris, my beautiful points ceased their activity and kissed me from the nape of my neck, tracing all along my back, opening my ass and kissing the rim and inserting the tip of her tongue into it. Later, the same tongue penetrated the gushing cave of my pussy, licking its walls and entering its interior, rotating and palpating every wrinkle and corner. She screwed me through all holes again and again. Now with her fingers, then with her tongue. She was a licentiate in the art of love. I don't know if you've heard that I'm multiorgasmic, it's not like I have four hundred, but in a one-hour session I can have three or even four orgasms. The first one came when she went down on me and started licking the lobe of my ear while her fingers took over the mission of the penis that hadn't been taken. She noticed my orgasm, my convulsions like a wave, and skillfully knew how to wait for it to pass before reawakening my sensuality, which otherwise only one orgasm never kills. I remained drunk, I confess, but much better. She turned me over again, reopened my legs and covered them up to the thighs with the sheet. I appreciated the gesture; it felt comforting to have the warmth of the fabric on my skin. I knew she got into the position of six and nine because the smell of her pussy reached me, any girl knows that perfume, our hands make hundreds of trips from there to our mouth, you know, providing moisture for entertainment. I smelled her aroma, but the slut had also perfumed it with something else, don't ask what, and it was a deep and pleasant aroma. In me, a profound feeling of gratitude and the morbid pleasure of the forbidden dwelled. I did a SUPERHUMAN EFFORT TO GET MY ARMS WORKING BUT I DID IT. Grabbed her ass, hard and beautiful, and pulled it towards my mouth. I tried to eat that delicacy like I've dreamed of eating mine so many times. I rotated my tongue, kissed, sucked, penetrated, licked, and caressed for a long time, as if each caress were being repeated in mine by an mirror. If I licked, she licked; if I penetrated with my tongue, she met me halfway without thinking, and I found myself doing what I wanted her to repeat every moment. Our bellies moved in sync, rubbing against our mouths. Everything was speeding up, and when she noticed my orgasm approaching like a reflex, she put my nose in her opening and screwed me, providing the final touch needed for her to reach hers. We slept until morning. It was already quite late. I remember the horrible hangover that accompanied me for the rest of Sunday. You didn't know it was a Saturday concert, but you know what's normal. We haven't talked much about it. She knows my type of food is different from hers. But believe me, she still loves me; she's still my best friend and doesn't insist. And now she has a girlfriend who matches her level, although I'd say a bit less. Andrea looks at me with a special gaze. Tender. Sweet. Like her.
I was left speechless when she confessed to being lesbian, about three years ago. But at the same time, a lot of stories that I had intuited and almost knew for sure about her were explained to me.
The first thing, like a blonde with 172 cm and a body like those we all envy, didn't go out with guys, I only met one boy at 17 years old who was really cute but never got serious. Another thing she told me about herself was her reserved character, I think her shyness and introversion were motivated by the anxiety she lived with while keeping her sexual orientation a secret. But above all, she explained some intimate episodes that had happened between us and left me confused.
As good friends, we had slept together many times, both at my place and hers.
One of those times, already years ago, we went to the bathroom before going to bed after playing tennis with a mutual friend and needed a good shower. Well, while in the bathtub, Andrea picked up the sponge, got down on her knees in front of me, and started washing me. I was laughing at the tickles and she was too. She turned off the gel and let it fall onto my breasts, we were around 15 years old, she was having fun, always laughing, with the sponge on my nipples. I laughed nervously, thought it was just a game, but my nipples got hard and erect, and the sponge kept going. It was a situation that didn't feel comfortable to me, but the laughter hid her excitement and my confusion. I closed my eyes... I dared to look at her directly. She didn't give up, turning and turning around my breasts now one, now the other and starting again, emphasizing my prominent nipples. I knew in the back of my mind that I was getting excited but my subconscious denied it, pretending it was just simple relaxation with friends as the only explanation.
I remember that the circumstances changed suddenly, my little thing was under warm water but hotter than the liquid element, she stopped laughing suddenly and looking at me, submerged her hand and began to rub me right there.
For a good while, confusion overwhelmed me so much I didn't react, the massage on my breasts had left me receptive so I remained motionless, the truth is, I was enjoying it so much! She rubbed me softer and more slowly below, I reclined in the bathtub, my eyes half-closed, she still on her knees, between my legs, applying a deeper cleaning than my pussy had suffered in life.
One of her fingers came out of the sponge and gave me a light, imperceptible caress on my clitoris, but to me it was like an electric shock. I closed my legs abruptly and to hide the startle told her: Now I'm. My heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour as I applied soap to her body, yes, in a much less erotic way. I finished quickly, told her I was tired and we should go to sleep. The impact of the situation lasted for days, I think weeks.
She must have noticed my rejection and as a good friend didn't insist on her approach anymore, showing exquisite respect by not revealing any other detail about her unmistakable tendency. With time, the incident fell into the bag of things that neither are forgotten nor occupy your mind habitually, I attributed it to puberty we were living through and which facilitates such situations.
But I still conserve another episode with Andrea, which happened just before her confession of homosexuality, in fact, I think it was the one who directly motivated her. I've told you that about three years ago from that confession. So, I had nineteen and she a year and a half more. Well, we went to a concert with a large group of friends, about fifteen in total, a few days before this happened. We danced, drank, and laughed a lot, but I drank a lot too. The venue where it took place was near my house and far from hers, so we had already told our families that she would sleep over at my house. I got pretty drunk and was also defeated. When we entered the house, we did it quietly so my parents wouldn't hear us and closed the door with a latch. I told Andrea something had gone wrong with me. What was happening to me was like a tub! I couldn't even undress and my tongue was tied up. This part can't be recounted accurately except under the unreal perception of things that one has when drunk. But I'll tell you my memories. Everything was spinning around, Andrea fell onto the bed and left quietly, everything seemed like a roller coaster to me. She came back with a cold wet cloth and put it on my forehead, what relief! It was hot, summer, there wasn't much clothes to take off and yet Andrea took ages to remove each piece. The first toe came out of my shoe and she massaged it so sweetly and skillfully that only the contact of her hands relaxed and relieved me to a point that can't be explained, her thin and fresh fingers on the arches of my foot, then slipping between my toes, kneading my sore heel from dancing. Sometimes I thought I felt her tongue but was too drunk and the massage too good for frivolities. Now I know it was her tongue, definitely, slipping into every fold, delighting in them, moistening the hollows where she later introduced her hands. Massage and kisses, tongue and fingers. After that, I felt my other foot being unshod and Everything started over again. I couldn't calculate the time it lasted. But I fell asleep, exhausted.
I woke up when she turned me over to take off my black top and checked that I was without pants and underwear, I didn't remember when I had taken them off but as I took off the top, I was naked. A feeling of freedom and relief ran through me. It was so hot.
Only when she held my head to recline me back did I realize she was also naked. Her white breasts shone framed by her long blonde hair in the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the moonlight filtering between the curtains.
You're going to give me some cream, she said, it will refresh you. I went back to lying down, my eyes half-closed, enjoying that. It was true everything she did she did with such sweetness and wisdom that it would have made me feel terrible and still without losing the effects of the hangover, but instead I felt like an angel, in a state between sleep and daydreaming.
Her hands ran over my entire body, from my feet to my thighs, hips, belly, breasts, arms. Smothering me with scented cream, leaving my skin fresh and slippery. She was a master, she didn't attack suddenly, maybe that would have provoked my rejection again.
In some passes her hand rubbed against my pubis, playing with the hair, in another an imperceptible pinch on my nipple, then a sweet kiss on my lips and when everything was already sliding and the freshness of the cream almost gave me shivers, her breasts ran over mine, providing the warmth I needed. She was a professor, my clitoris got wet without me being aware of it and yet she kept preparing me, sensitizing each one of my neurons, one by one.
She turned me over and opened my legs, positioning herself between them. Her body had gotten smeared with cream on mine so that only a few drops on my back were enough.
I felt her light weight on my back, her breasts oozing with cream, it was A doctor of sensuality science, and I think our friendship love was something more, it showed. I couldn't resist, nor did I want to, what the hell! when her fingers started playing with my bum and my clam at the same time, going up and down, I felt a finger penetrating my little thing and another massaging my clitoris, my beautiful points ceased their activity and kissed me from the nape of my neck, tracing all along my back, opening my ass and kissing the rim and inserting the tip of her tongue into it. Later, the same tongue penetrated the gushing cave of my pussy, licking its walls and entering its interior, rotating and palpating every wrinkle and corner. She screwed me through all holes again and again. Now with her fingers, then with her tongue. She was a licentiate in the art of love. I don't know if you've heard that I'm multiorgasmic, it's not like I have four hundred, but in a one-hour session I can have three or even four orgasms. The first one came when she went down on me and started licking the lobe of my ear while her fingers took over the mission of the penis that hadn't been taken. She noticed my orgasm, my convulsions like a wave, and skillfully knew how to wait for it to pass before reawakening my sensuality, which otherwise only one orgasm never kills. I remained drunk, I confess, but much better. She turned me over again, reopened my legs and covered them up to the thighs with the sheet. I appreciated the gesture; it felt comforting to have the warmth of the fabric on my skin. I knew she got into the position of six and nine because the smell of her pussy reached me, any girl knows that perfume, our hands make hundreds of trips from there to our mouth, you know, providing moisture for entertainment. I smelled her aroma, but the slut had also perfumed it with something else, don't ask what, and it was a deep and pleasant aroma. In me, a profound feeling of gratitude and the morbid pleasure of the forbidden dwelled. I did a SUPERHUMAN EFFORT TO GET MY ARMS WORKING BUT I DID IT. Grabbed her ass, hard and beautiful, and pulled it towards my mouth. I tried to eat that delicacy like I've dreamed of eating mine so many times. I rotated my tongue, kissed, sucked, penetrated, licked, and caressed for a long time, as if each caress were being repeated in mine by an mirror. If I licked, she licked; if I penetrated with my tongue, she met me halfway without thinking, and I found myself doing what I wanted her to repeat every moment. Our bellies moved in sync, rubbing against our mouths. Everything was speeding up, and when she noticed my orgasm approaching like a reflex, she put my nose in her opening and screwed me, providing the final touch needed for her to reach hers. We slept until morning. It was already quite late. I remember the horrible hangover that accompanied me for the rest of Sunday. You didn't know it was a Saturday concert, but you know what's normal. We haven't talked much about it. She knows my type of food is different from hers. But believe me, she still loves me; she's still my best friend and doesn't insist. And now she has a girlfriend who matches her level, although I'd say a bit less. Andrea looks at me with a special gaze. Tender. Sweet. Like her.
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