Madame B - Desire

"What about this?" she asked, holding up a bottle of massage oil. "Want a nice relaxing massage?" I didn't know the first thing about massage and neither did Sammy, but we were determined to get value for money out of these beauty treatments.

"Sure," I said. "I'll do you first. Where're you tense?"

"Backs of my legs," she said. "I've spent too long on that damn step machine trying to get in shape for tomorrow's dress. My thighs might not be wobbly, but they sure are stiff." Sammy lay facedown on the bed and hiked up her robe so that the tops of her thighs and the bottom of her ass were exposed. Her skin was as soft as a peach, and her thighs were lean and slender. I poured a little massage oil onto her smooth skin and, using gentle kneading motions, began to massage her.

"Ooh, that's lovely," purred Sammy. "You're very good. Just there," she said, as my knuckles worked the crease where her bottom met her legs. I used the flat of my palms to smooth the oil deep into her skin, and, following her instructions about what felt good, swirled my hands around her butt cheeks. Only when I found my thumbs drifting toward Sammy's inner thighs did I realize that my massage might be about to get a little too intimate. I'd been so focused on how good her baby-soft skin felt beneath my palms and her moans of pleasure that I'd forgotten there are some places you just don't touch your friends.

"Right," I said, ending my massage session with some brisk, efficient strokes somewhere near Sammy's knees. "I'm done now."

"That was bliss," said Sammy, rolling over on to her back. Her face was flushed, and, as she turned over, her robe became unfastened, revealing a small, pert breast topped with a soft, puffy nipple. She pulled her gown back toward her chest within seconds, but I'd seen something that made me feel nervous and uneasy.

"Your turn now," she said, and as she spoke I noticed that she didn't look me in the eye. "Tell me where your aches and pains are."

I moaned about how much my shoulders ached after weeks of poring over menus and seating plans and orders of service, and Sammy said she would do her best to get rid of the tension. I lay facedown, tits slightly splayed to the sides, and slid the top of my robe off, but kept it tied around my waist, covering my ass. When Sammy poured the massage oil onto my back, it trickled and tickled deliciously. Her hands on my neck and shoulders were warm, slender, and strong; I was impressed by the way she found each knot of tension and released it with masterful strokes as though she had been doing this her whole life. And I could tell that she was enjoying it, too, as she responded to the feedback I gave her and even complimented me on my all-over tan.

The more confident she grew, the farther her hands traveled: her sensitive caresses worked their way down my arms, releasing all the tension I was carrying around in my hands, and her fingers slid under my arms, teasingly touching the sides of my breasts. If Sammy had been a boy, this would have been the most effective foreplay ever! I decided to remind myself to joke with her later about teaching Steve a thing or two.

"Okay," said Sammy eventually, when I was just about to drift off to sleep. "You're done. How did that feel?"

"Amazing," I said and meant it. I sat up, pulling my robe back on and sinking into the pillows. "So now what?"

"Well," said Sammy, surveying the room, "I think we've used up just about everything in here, so now it's time to take advantage of room service."

We ordered champagne and oysters, which arrived on a silver tray. I'd never had oysters before, and Sammy showed me how to eat them, putting the shell to my lips and tipping my head back so that they slid down my throat. "Just let it glide down," she advised. "A bit like swallowing after a blow job."

When Sammy ate oysters, she looked elegant and sexy whereas I failed the first couple of attempts and got more shellfish up my nose than into my mouth. Sammy leaned over and helped me out: putting her hand under my chin, she tenderly tipped my head back at the right angle, and I swallowed the delicate muscle and liquor down whole. When I finally did it properly, I was instantly hooked on the salty, slippery sexiness of oysters. I made a mental note to order some of these when Steve and I were on our honeymoon.

Our next course was a steak dinner, washed down with velvety red wine and followed by gorgeous sugar-sweet strawberries and freshly whipped cream, which Sammy and I fed to each other with our fingers. Stuffed and happy, we retired to the bed, where we sat cross-legged, drinking a little more wine, reminiscing about the past, and talking about the future.

At around midnight, I felt my eyelids begin to get heavy. "I think that just about does it for me tonight. I'm tired," I said. "Mind if we go to sleep? If ever there was a night I needed my beauty sleep, it's tonight."

We both brushed our teeth and changed into our night things. Sammy wore a tank-and-shorts set that showed off her slender, boyish figure to perfection. I debuted the negligee I had been saving for my wedding night but was so beautiful I couldn't resist wearing it. It was made of white silk with a lace trim that scooped up my breasts and pushed them together, giving me full, round cleavage. If you looked closely (which I hoped Steve would), you could see the outline of my pink nipples through the sheer fabric.

Sammy gave me a wolf whistle when she saw me. "Here comes the bride!" she said from her side of the four-poster bed. "That's beautiful. Steve won't be able to resist you."

I turned out the light, but neither of us could sleep; we were too excited about the day that lay ahead of us. So we talked some more. Gradually the conversation turned to sex, like it always does when two female friends chat for long enough.

"I think it's so beautiful what you're doing," Sammy said wistfully. "I don't know if I could make that kind of commitment."

"But you and Jez are rock solid," I said.

"Oh, I know that," she replied. "There's just so much I want to do, I'm not sure if you can do it with just one person."

"Like what?" I said, curious.

"I don't know. Just stuff. I haven't experimented that much, and maybe I should. Like, I've never been with a woman, I've never had a threesome, I've never let anyone fuck me in the ass…" I started giggling, suddenly aware of Sammy's warm presence in the bed beside me. I became uncomfortable and excited as vivid visions of my best friend doing all these things ran through my mind before I could stop them.

"Have you ever?" she said in a too-loud voice that was probably meant to sound casual. In fact, it sounded anything but. "Been with a woman, I mean?"

"You know I haven't!" I laughed. "I'd have told you if I had!"

"But have you thought about it?" said Sammy. She wasn't going to let this topic go. "Have you fantasized about it? I have. I have the most explicit dreams about fucking women. Ones I know. Sometimes my dreams are so sexy that I wake up and I'm actually coming. Don't you have dreams like that?"

"Well… yes…" I replied, wondering exactly which women Sammy had fantasized about being with. "Thinking about it, or watching it, or reading about it can be sexy. But there's a difference between thinking something and actually doing it. Some fantasies are better left as just that. What if the real thing isn't as hot as you'd like it to be?"

"Oh, I think it would be," said Sammy. "In fact, I think it'd be pretty fucking amazing. Even talking about it with you is getting me turned on right now."

An abrupt, awkward silence ensued as I digested Sammy's words. I could tell by her absolute stillness and her controlled breathing that she wasn't asleep, and as I looked at the clock, which said one a.m., I had never felt more awake in my entire life. I was thinking about how her peachy ass had looked when I was massaging her this evening and how smooth, soft, and lightly tanned her skin was. I thought of how her slender body had felt between my thighs when she had been massaging me. But more than this, the picture that replayed itself in my head again and again, like a broken DVD continually tracking back over the same scene, was the moment when she'd rolled over and exposed that flash of breast. I'd seen Sammy's tits a hundred times over the years-we'd shared changing rooms and of course beds before now-but that glimpse, that stolen glance at her flesh, had been different. Private. Arousing. And now she'd confessed that she was up for a girl-on-girl experience and that she was horny, actively horny, this minute. And she was so close that I could feel the tiny hairs on her arms brush against my skin. Arms that I suddenly realized I wanted to reach out and pull me close, and hands that I wanted to explore my thighs, my belly, my breasts, my pussy. I let out a gasp of astonishment and desire.