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Anal

“You taste amazing!”

“What?!” I laughed. It just seemed like such a weird thing to say, like my vagina was pumping out high-test chocolate or well-vintaged wine. And my husband, he wasn’t exactly a foodie. His idea of a great meal was a steak or even a pizza. I hoped that I did not taste like a pepperoni pizza, though I could more readily imagine my husband declaring a pizza to taste amazing than my vaginal juices.

I couldn’t remember ever having made a similar claim about the taste of his come. It wasn’t exactly something I looked forward to, but in the heat of the moment, it was all part of the act. I was a trooper and I didn’t complain about the saltiness. Well, maybe once when we’d had asparagus for dinner, and—well, wow. It turns out the smell of urine isn’t the only thing affected by asparagusic acid.

His tongue was no longer inside of me. I looked down between my legs at the top of his head peering over my navel at me in wonder over my outburst. “Sorry, dear. Please continue.” He did as he was told. He always was a compliant husband—that’s why I love him. I could learn to live with his idiosyncrasies, which now included, apparently, thinking pussy tastes like pepperoni pizza.

I’d certainly had my share of boyfriends over the years, before my marriage to Tim, who refused to eat me out at all. “It’s not for me,” they’d say. Or “I can’t get comfortable down there.” As if giving a blowjob on my knees was the kind of thing I would look forward to on a yoga retreat. So, yeah, if Tim thinks I taste as good as pizza, then I’ll accept that, and try not to laugh next time. He may not be a foodie, but he’s pretty darn good in the cunnilingus department. Good enough to get me off most times, anyway.

After we’d fucked that night, and were in our afterglow-y discussion mode, Tim returned us to that moment.

“I really do like the way you taste.”

“You like the taste of pussy?”

“I like the way you taste.”

“Don’t they all taste pretty much the same?”

“Oh, no.” Tim propped himself up on one elbow, glad to play the role of expert in this debate. “Definitely not.”

I looked into his hazel eyes and brushed the sandy brown hair up on his forehead before taking his stubbly chin in my hand. “How many are you going around tasting that you’re such an expert?”

He laughed. “Well, not that many I guess. But I’ve been with women before you, you know.”

“Oh, and you ate them out? You know this is the kind of stuff I love to hear my husband talk about.”

He smiled and fell back onto his pillow. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think that I was flattering you insincerely.”

“What, so you could get into my pants?” I laughed, grabbed his far cheek and pulled his face in to kiss him on the lips. “I get that there’s certainly different chemistries going on, but is there really that much variety in the taste?”

“Absolutely,” he said assuredly. “I could pick you out of a line-up.”

The next day, relaying this story to my best friend Tina, I expressed some amazement at the revelation. But I was even more amazed at Tina’s response.

“Uh yeah, definitely. It’s a fucking smorgasboord out there.”

“And you know this how?”

“Well, look, maybe I don’t have a huge amount of experience in that arena, but I did my share of experimentation in college.”

“How have you not told me this before?”

We were on the deck at my house, with cocktails, naturally.

“I guess I just assumed that all ladies have that phase. You went to college—you’re telling me you never took a semester of Cunnilingus 101?”

“No! Certainly not! I was strictly on the D.”

“Well,” Tina said, pausing to sip her Manhattan. “It’s not my preference, but it’ll do if I’m horny.”

I put my drink down on the deck next to my chair, giving Tina my full attention. “Are you saying you still …”

“Oh no, I mean, I haven’t since college. It does get kind of complicated. Once you see the potential in either sex to fulfill your sexual needs, you just get turned on by nearly everyone. It’s easier to get my mind off sex if I can just be with women without, you know, being with women.”

“So you never think about women in a sexual way anymore?”

Tina looked over at me and smiled, her full, ruby-painted lips in a slight pout. “Well, I take a break now and then.”

“Huh,” was the only way I could think to respond. I’d been friends with Tina for at least five years, and had caught myself occasionally lingering appreciatively on parts of Tina’s anatomy—her pert breasts, for example, or her ample hips—but had shut out of my mind the possibility that my appreciation was connected to my sexuality. “So, how many …”

“Oh, now you want details?”

“Well, a sample size?”

Tina snorted. “Right—ever the statistician. Well, if you’re conducting a study, I’m going to disappoint you by saying that it’s less than thirty. Far less.”

“And you liked the taste?”

“I mean, it’s not like eating ice cream. But otele gelen escort there are different flavors, and some are better than others, and when you’re into it, like really feeling a person, yeah, it can taste good. But it’s like semen—the taste can be affected by what you put in your body. You can get some idea of what’s in the package before you open the package, if you know what I mean.”

“By how it’s wrapped?”

“Yep, if the address is scrawled in marker and it has a bunch of stamps and makes a ticking sound—DON’T OPEN IT.”

We shared a laugh and lapsed into silent sipping.

Tina finally broke the silence. “So wait, you’ve never tasted your own?”

“Ew, no.”

“Why eww? This is your body. Respect yourself, lady.”

“Well, still no.”

“Do you masturbate?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ve talked about this.”

“I guess just never in enough detail. Do you use your hand, a vibrator—what?”

“I’ve used both.”

“And you’ve never been curious enough to lick either?”

“Not once.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t get that. You don’t mind swallowing his come as part of the act, but your stomach turns up at the evidence of your own turn-on?”

I frowned at Tina. “I feel like you’re disappointed in me. Like I’ve let all women down.”

Tina reached over and touched me gently on the upper arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I was just surprised.”

I shrugged off Tina’s hand. “I feel like you think I’m closed minded.”

Tina put her hand back on me, this time on my forearm with a gentle stroke toward her hand. “No. I’m excited for you. I’m excited because I know you’re not closed minded. I may have only known you for five years, but I know you well enough that you can recognize opportunity.”

This time I didn’t push my friend away, but looked her in her sparkling green eyes. “How so?”

Tina’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Well, first you’re going to find out what a woman tastes like. Then we’re going to find out how well your husband knows his wife.”

I felt a little twinge between my legs and swallowed hard. I picked up my glass from the deck, took a long sip, put it back down and asked, “what do you have in mind?”

Tina raised one eyebrow, and held her glass up in mock toast. “You got that vibrator handy?”

We went inside the hushed house. Tim was playing golf this afternoon and wouldn’t be home for hours. In the master bedroom, I opened my nightstand drawer and took out a sleek, tapered lavender vibrator.

Tina couldn’t resist a joke. “Is that what Tim’s dick looks like, too?”

“Well, his doesn’t vibrate …”

Tina laughed. “Okay, now show me how you masturbate.”

“Well, I get comfortable, and then I …”

“No, girl. Show me how you masturbate. Don’t be shy. We’re all friends here.”

“All three of us?”

“Yes, that’s the spirit.”

“This is so weird.”

“But you’re curious, aren’t you?”

I held up the vibrator. “I’m just feeling daunted that, of the three of us, I have the least experience.”

“Yeah—we need to fix that. Get comfy.”

I laid on the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. “Okay if I don’t get full-on naked just yet?”

“Hey, just do what you normally do. Pretend I’m not here.”

I laughed. “That is so not possible.”

“Okay, change of plans.” Tina jumped up on the bed and lay on her side next to me. “Pretend I am here.”

“Mmm-kay. I don’t usually start right in with the vibrator. I warm up a bit with my hand first.”

“You don’t need my permission. What do you think about?”

“Oooo. Judgment time.”

“No, no judgment. Just tell me what you see.”

“Ricky Martin?”

Tina busted out with a laugh so sharp that she snorted. “That is very nineties of you. But I get it, I really do. Okay, what’s Ricky up to?”

“Oh, God.” I covered her face with my hand to hide my embarrassment. “He has his shirt off. He’s dancing. He’s a little sweaty.”

“Good, good. We can work with this. Keep going.”

“Okay. At this point, I imagine putting my hands around his torso, just above his hips. I can feel the warmth. He’s still dancing, too, and I’m following his moves, side to side. Then, as we get closer, we touch at the hips.” I touched myself between the legs, gesturing to indicate where Ricky and I made contact.

“Yes! This is good. Hey, do you mind if I join you?” Without waiting for permission, Tina, still facing me, unbuttoned her own jeans and slid down the zipper. But she didn’t stop there. She slid her jeans completely off her legs, then sat up and pulled off her top, dropping it to the floor on her side of the bed. “I like to get comfortable,” she explained.

I watched my friend undress as I considered her explanation. “Uh, okay.” I’d seen Tina in a bra and panties before, and even less on occasion, but it was in such a different context—changing by the pool, for example—that I was taken aback to realize so suddenly pendik escort how attractive my friend was. Tina’s skin was evenly tanned—a beautiful olive complexion. Her toned tummy made her breasts look larger than their C-cup, and her hips weren’t prominent, but wide enough to highlight her womanhood. This body was barely contained by her matching black lace bra and panties.

Tina touched me on the arm. “As you were saying?”

“Oh, yeah. Ricky.”

“We can’t forget about Ricky. I mean, what would we do without him?” She threw her head back and laughed, open-mouthed, tossing back her long auburn hair.

“So we’re dancing now …”

“Livin’ la vida loca …”

“Right, yes, that Ricky—not Menudo Ricky, just so we’re clear. After that, but when it was still a possibility that he was straight. And we’re grinding away. I’m touching his chest, his left arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him.”

“Uh-huh.” Tina moved her right hand over the gusset of her lace panties.

“And, uh … I put my face under his, nuzzling his strong neck.” I tried putting my hand into my panties, but even unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans were too tight. “Fuck it.” I arched my back, lifting my hips off the bed, and pushed my jeans down to my calves, kicking them off from there until they fell off the end of the bed.

“That’s it,” Tina coaxed me. “Get comfortable.”

“I move my hands down, and grab him on his butt. He shifts his hands and does the same to me. We’re still dancing, but now our hips are joined and we move back and forth together. There’s still some friction, though, forward and backward. I can feel him getting hard.”

Tina’s right hand was moving very efficiently back and forth across her clit, through her panties. Her left arm cupped her breast on that side.

“He lifts my top off, slowly.”

“Go ahead,” Tina urged her. “Take it off.”

I sat up in bed and pulled off my t-shirt. My bra was beige and did not match my red panties. I’m not as trim as Tina, but my breasts are larger, heavier. “He tosses my shirt to the side.” I dropped my shirt off the bed as I narrated. “His hands come down, sweeping across my cheeks, down my neck, across my breasts.” My own hands followed Ricky’s imagined path. “He squeezes my breasts and then turns his hands so that his fingers are pointed downward and he slides them down my tummy and catches his fingertips in the waistband of my pants. We’re still rocking our hips in time with the beat.”

Tina reached behind her back and popped the clasp on her bra, then pulled it off her breasts from the front. “Here, I’ll get you, too,” she said and then reached over my side, stroking upward from my lower back and deftly popping my bra open. My breasts fell to gravity. Tina took the opportunity to cop a feel as she pulled my bra free from my arms and tossed it in the growing pile of clothes.

I lay back down on the bed, now facing Tina as I continued the story. “He takes off my bra and then it’s just like that for a while. We’re both wearing pants, but shirtless, holding each other, moving with each other. I can feel the warmth from his chest as I press my upper body into his. He’s holding me sweetly as we rock back and forth. I feel safe in his arms.”

“Mmm,” Tina murmured as she moved her hand inside the front of her panties and started fingering herself in earnest. “I love a strong man.”

I was also losing my shyness as I shared my fantasy I and pushed at the front of my red panties impatiently. “He’s kissing my head, and then my neck. He has to lean way down to finally get to my breasts, taking care with each one, kissing my nipples, making them hard.”

Both Tina and I instinctively manipulated our own nipples with our free hands. Tina reached across and stroked my left nipple. I shuddered at her touch and rolled slightly closer to my friend.

“He’s getting on his knees now. He’s unbuttoning my pants, pulling them down along with my panties. He’s right there, Ricky, kneeling in front of me like a god, looking up into my eyes. He has a hand on the back of each of my thighs.” I pushed my panties down mid-thigh to give myself more access. My downy blonde hairs were tightly trimmed.

Tina took the opportunity to move in closer, capturing my left nipple between her lips. I flinched lightly, but then relaxed. My right hand explored the crevice between my legs and my left hand cradled the back of Tina’s head. Tina let go with her lips and turned her face up, looking me in the eyes. I was overcome with the desire to kiss her and gave in before I could give it a second thought.

Tina’s lips were soft, but she was insistent, hungry. Her tongue swept across my lips, begging for entry. I could feel Tina’s hand on my belly, just beneath my breast, holding me there gently for a moment before moving on to her back, pulling me in. I acquiesced to these silent demands as my thoughts of Ricky dissipated. I reached out to Tina, my left hand fumbling onto her breast. I gasped, rus escort and in doing so, granted Tina’s tongue entry.

Tina’s hand moved from my back to my butt, pulling my lower body close, and entangling our legs. I gasped again as I felt Tina’s hand moving rapidly up my thigh, honing in between my legs. I moved my right hand out of the way to allow my friend access. Tina’s hand stopped when it covered my mons, then her middle finger pierced the slick aisle between my lips, stroking upward across my clit. I tried to imagine this was Ricky’s hand between my legs, but it was undeniably Tina’s slender fingers.

My right hand, removed from its masturbating task, lay between us, trapped, but my left hand on Tina’s breast began to explore as I gave in to what was happening. I found Tina’s nipple, rubbing the nub, then pinching it, triggering a moan into my mouth. I went on the offensive, sending my tongue forward to tangle in Tina’s territory.

Tina inserted her index finger next to her middle finger in my slit, increasing her pressure and speed. My legs buckled forward, greedily taking in what I could. Just as I was approaching orgasm, Tina pulled her fingers away. Reacting to this absence, my left hand moved from Tina’s breast to her butt, pulling her in to close the gap. I desperately wanted to maintain that pressure on my clit. I was so focused that I lost track of Tina’s right hand until it had tip-toed up between my full breasts, along my neck, and up to my chin. Tapping her fingers on my lips, I responded with want, nipping at her fingertips and greedily sucking them.

At was only after I tongued Tina’s fingers that I realized that I was tasting myself. It was a subtle taste, almost buttery sweet and smooth, and, I admitted to myself, quite pleasant. “I … taste … amazing …” I moaned, jokingly.

Tina laughed. “Let me be the judge of that.” She reached her hand back between the tangle of our hips and dipped her fingers into my slit again, stroking in and out, massaging my clit with each stroke. Then she pulled her fingers out and put all four of them in her own mouth, sucking noisily with only her thumb on the outside of her mouth. “Mmmmmm …” she moaned. “I’ve got to get another order of that. Or better yet …” Now Tina was on the move, disentangling our legs as she reoriented herself downward, rubbing her soft cheek against my belly, kissing her way through my downy fur, along the inside of my thigh, and then back up to my juicy folds.

I flinched at the touch of Tina’s tongue, but relaxed open my thighs to give my friend room to maneuver. I felt the nails of Tina’s roving hands dig into my thighs, heightening the sensation. In front of me, I watched as Tina’s hips writhed for attention on her clean-shaven pussy. Tentatively, I reached out my left hand and caressed Tina’s burning hot thigh. Tina purred with excitement, muffled by my folds. Encouraged, my fingers brushed up against Tina’s slit. Tina lurched her hips forward toward my face, and at the same time she slipped her tongue deep into my pussy, the tip of her tongue wriggling against my clit.

I could smell Tina’s aroma and see her lips glisten. Steadying her hips with my left hand, I brought my face closer, inhaling deeply at my friend’s arousal. I couldn’t explain the smell exactly—part earth, part perfume—natural, but sweet. I also couldn’t reconcile it with the taste of my own juices. With a hand now on the back of each of Tina’s thighs, I targeted her clit with the tip of my tongue, penetrating Tina’s lips at their frontmost point.

Tina tasted gamier, somehow, certainly less buttery, but still pleasant.

“Hunnnhhhhhh” Tina murmured appreciatively from between my legs, and moved her left thigh over my head to give me unimpeded access. I fleetingly imagined late 1990s Ricky Martin standing, naked and hard, yet completely unnecessary, as Tina and I fully engaged in a sixty-nine, sucking at each other with pent-up desire. Ricky moaned out a slow, mournful acapella version of “Livin’ La Vida Loca” as he stroked his erection.

Tina added her index and middle fingers to my pussy, plunging them in and out as she nibbled at my clit. I followed suit, marveling that just moments before I’d never even tasted my own pussy, and now here I was eating out my best friend. I loved the effect it seemed to have, Tina’s hips bucking onto my face, humping and grinding on my chin. Tina rolled fully on top of me now, taking control of the speed and pressure of the contact.

My legs kicked a little in anticipation. This may have been a new experience for me, but orgasm was not, and I could tell when a big one was brewing. I tried to thrust upward with my own hips to meet Tina’s tongue-lashing, but Tina remained in control. I would have to insist on being on top next time. As my orgasm mounted, so did my desire for Tina’s pussy. I lifted my head from the pillow and ate my friend out like a peach, sucking the juices released by each stroke of my tongue.

It may have been Tina’s relative comfort with the situation, being less self-conscious, that allowed her to come first and hard, releasing a torrent of fresh come into my mouth and down my cheeks. The surprise gush paused my own orgasm, but as soon as I realized the level of pleasure I was capable of giving Tina, I was even more turned on.

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