I turned around and saw her. There she was looking bewilderingly beautiful with her waves of black hair and an exceptionally fit body. Her arms were toned but without bulkiness. Her legs meandered on forever and she looked confident in the short straight skirt that she was wearing with infinite ease. She smiled at the shop assistant and tossed her head back in a guffaw as she handed over the money.
“I’ll do my best” she said. “If this doesn’t get him going, nothing will!”
I was so pleased to see her. I hadn’t seen Jill for nearly five years and I had no idea why it had been so long. We hadn’t had a disagreement, or not as far as I was concerned. We hadn’t moved to different parts of the country. We hadn’t got any reason why we had not spoken other than the fact that we both had busy lives and there never seemed to be a mutually acceptable time to meet.
Certain friends should always keep in touch - friends who knew as soon as they met one another that there was a bond; a connection like no other. This was how it was with Jill and me.
We met via a mutual friend. We did not know that we had anything in common whatsoever. We had different backgrounds. We were in quite different relationships; me being married, her being separated for a couple of years and in a relatively new relationship with Dave. She was brash and scarily to the point. I was politically correct and empathetic to the point of losing all sense of assertiveness.
Yet, somehow we clicked and it was a very short time before we were talking intimately about body parts, sexuality, orgasms and fucking.
Jill phoned me up one day and screamed down the telephone.
“He’s fucking someone else. I’ve counted the condoms!”
I tried to calm her down, to reassure her that she must have made a mistake. Dave adored her and the boys. He wouldn’t do that to her. He was incapable of being unfaithful. But Jill being Jill was adamant that he had been playing away from home and was determined to have it out with him. I tried to calm her once more, telling her to just be a little steadier, telling her to check everything out carefully before she blew her top unnecessarily.
She phoned back a day or two later to tell me that she had found the missing condom down the back of the chest of drawers. She wanted to thank me for stopping her being an impetuous twit.
Imagine that!
Of course, Dave was fucking another woman and Jill couldn’t cope with that. With a distinct lack of discussion, which would have been my exact response at the time too, she packed him a suitcase and chucked him out. He didn’t want to leave but she said that she was not prepared to share his dick with another pussy. She didn’t like sharing dicks.
Interesting really, because Jill was not exactly the most faithful woman in the world. Whilst she had been married she had had numerous affairs, with men and women. She was always encouraging the sexual side in me, not in a suggestive way, but just by telling me that what I really needed was a damn good shag. That would sort out my gynaecological problems.
She was right!
And I told her so.
We met one evening and she told me about her new partner; a younger person who turned her on like no person had ever done before. She looked at me and knew instantly that something had changed.
“What’s he like?” she asked.
At first I denied and scoffed at the very notion of me being unfaithful but she knew and there was little point in pretending any longer. I trusted her implicitly and congratulated her on her wisdom regarding her insistence that I needed sex.
And boy did I need sex. I still do.
Imagine this. Imagine finding a pot of gold that gave you just about everything you ever wanted only you couldn’t tell a soul. You had to hide this hidden treasure away from everyone you knew. Sometimes, there was an occasional glint of the gold but you had to tuck it away or pretend it was costume jewellery.
That is sex and me. I hide it from everyone except one or two people who I trust implicitly to know the truth about my newfound pot of gold; my lover, his closest friends, my closest friends. They are the only people who know.
That is fine but sometimes, being a relatively altruistic person, I want to share my pot of gold. I want other people to benefit from this discovery and not being able to share this is sometimes thoroughly frustrating.
It is not about boasting about my find, or my exceptional fortune at being with someone who understands me and is appreciated in return. It is not about that at all. I just want other people to know what they could have, if they opened their eyes (and other parts of their bodies) and discovered the pot of gold without even realising they were looking for it.
Jill would understand this, which is why I told her when she asked. I just said that I had met someone, that I couldn’t really explain what had happened, that it wasn’t lust, it wasn’t some steamy affair that was just about recreational sex, that I wasn’t in love, that it was just completely unique and I couldn’t possibly explain what was happening to me, other than the fact that there had been some serious awakenings in my nether regions, and despite only having had penetrative sex with this man once, I was really quite needy as far as wanting some more.
“About bloody time” was her response.
And after that, we drifted apart.
And here she was in the shop; a shops that I wouldn’t have dared walk into when I last spoke to Jill but my life has moved on immeasurably.
“It’d get my man going if he saw you dressed in that!” I said.
“Abi!” she yelled, and raced towards me to give me a very warm embrace.
“And how would you feel if I paraded myself in front of your man in this?” she asked mischievously.
“Delighted!” I responded to her surprise.
Her jaw dropped and she said that I couldn’t possibly mean that, and anyway, who was this man of mine?
I told her there was no “man of mine” but that there was certainly a man in my life and that it just happened to be the same man that I had told her about five years ago.
“Still!” she said in astonishment “Must be a good fuck”.
She said it was my eyes that gave away the truth.
She said we ought to meet up. I agreed and said that I wanted to hear whether her naughty purchase was going to work on her man, and if it was, perhaps I could borrow it for mine.
She then explained that she hadn’t exactly got her man just yet but was hoping that when she did, this would be the first thing that she put on. I suggested that perhaps she ought to check it out with a third person beforehand, once again offering the services of my lover to cast an eye over Jill in these garments.
She thought I was joking but I reiterated that I wasn’t.
“You’ve been with him for five years Abi? Don’t you love him? Doesn’t he love you?”
I responded to say that of course there was a mutual love there. There was also a mutual love and appreciation of sex and sexuality. I adored his sexuality and he adored mine. I could think of nothing more exciting for him than to see a fit woman dressed up in a beautiful set of bra and panties, parading in front of him for his expert advice on whether it was going to get her man aroused.
I could envisage her doing this and I could see him asking her to turn around in a certain way. I could see him reaching for his camera, telling her that he would be happy to snap a few shots that she could “accidentally” leave around the place. I could imagine him reaching into his trousers and grabbing his cock for a gentle rub.
She looked at me once more in astonishment. I assured her that it would be fine.
Perhaps we ought to discuss it further.
We went for a coffee and quickly returned to the subject of her lingerie and my lover. I reiterated once more that I would love her to strip off and parade around in front of my lover in the bra and panties that she had bought a few days ago. I told her that if he suddenly decided to kiss her or wander his hands over her pert tits, then that would be perfectly fine by me. Preferably, I would like to be in the room to see his reaction, to see if it excited her too, being looked at and longed for by another very sexual being.
The mistrust on her face was almost amusing. How could I possibly want this man that I cared for to be ogling her?
I told her once more the fact that he was such a vibrant sexual being was one of the things that I found attractive about him. How could I deny that sexuality if he felt it with others? What right had I got to tether the beast, which in my opinion was far from beastly? It made no sense. It makes no sense.
Why can’t people understand that?
There is no need for it to be a problem unless it is deceitful or hidden or made a secret. If there is honesty then how can it be problematic? If it does not take away but actually enhances the sexuality and the feelings for one another, then it can only be a good thing.
Jill continued. What if she was aroused by all of this? What would happen if she looked down and saw that he had an erection? How would I feel then?
I told her that if she was aroused then she ought to let him know. That if she wanted a kiss or a finger fuck, she should let it be known. That if she saw his cock was aroused, then perhaps she ought to get it out and see just how engorged he could get. That if they then wanted to fuck one another, then this was obviously the thing to do.
“And what about you?” she asked.
“How do you mean, Jill?” I responded.
“What about you Abi, how would you really feel if I was fucking your man?”
“Aroused” I replied truthfully.
“Look, you clearly don’t believe me” I said. “Perhaps we ought to discuss this further. Perhaps you would like to meet me down by the river on Wednesday evening. Perhaps we could thrash this out once more so that you can be perfectly assured that I am not going to disappear into a fit of green smoke, burdened with jealously and fearful that my lover will never want to fuck me again.”
She laughed and said that she would be delighted to meet up on Wednesday whether we walked about her parading her tits in front of my man or not. She would go away and have a think too but most importantly she was glad that we had met up and ecstatic at my sexual growth.
It may have been wishful thinking but I thought I saw her eyes dip towards my cleavage as she said this.
We hugged again, moved away from one another and I left in the divine knowledge that the mere thought of her standing there in front of my lover, irrespective of whether they had penetrative sex or not had sent my clitoris into over drive. I needed a wank and so I returned home to do just that.
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