My Pink Plaid Shirt Ch. 02: Saturday

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A sliver of sun cast its gaze through a slit in the blinds, cutting through the heavy atmosphere of sex to land directly upon my flushed face. I opened my eyes and looked at the clock, realizing this was the evening’s setting sun. It was still Saturday, the day after that crazy bachelorette party of Samantha’s. And I was still at her place. In her bed, in fact. Turning my head, I could see she was there too, curled beneath the white comforter, one knee bent. She looked angelic with that smile plastered across her dreaming visage. I could not bring myself to disturb her.

Instead, I laid back, completely nude just like her, thinking about the events that had occurred since I woke up that very morning to find my new goddess, the perpetrator of my secret seduction, that night-time visitor, had in fact been my best friend. Not my crush, Heather. Everything, truth be told, had happened in a fever-fit of lust, so until this very moment, this interlude to the madness, I had not had time to really think of it. She was my best friend since college. She was getting married. She was not even the woman of my dreams. But none of that stopped my heart from racing.

Several hours earlier, Samantha had whispered in my ear: “I still think the shirt looks better on you. Why don’t you help me slip out of it, Jen, sweetie.”

That was all the invitation I had needed. I was still reeling from the revelation that standing before me, offering herself to me, was my old college roommate, not my dream girl Heather. I moved toward her, softly laying a palm on her knee, letting it slide slowly up her thigh as I leaned in. I remember how our noses almost touched, how I could feel her sweet breath buffet against my lips as it deepened. I began to unbutton my shirt from her body, to open it and reveal the two beautiful pillows of flesh buried beneath. I slid the pink plaid shirt from her shoulders, peeling it from her body for the most part. As each sleeve slid down her arms, I pushed them behind her back, planting her hands on the counter upon which she sit, leaving the shirt puddled around her wrists. I then leaned in and finally tasted her soft breasts, kissing both, slowly, gently, one at a time, letting my tongue caress her nipples.

I can remember the way she shuddered, the sound of that amazing moan escaping her parted lips, her legs parting, wrapping around my waist, and pulling me closer in an intimate hug. I swear, I think we spent at least half an hour doing just that, me kissing, suckling at her breasts, her pulling and holding me close. I could hear her heart pounding in her chest. I could taste the sweet nectar of her perspiration. I could feel the heat generated from between her legs as the crouch of her wet panties pressed softly to my stomach. I had never felt closer to her than at that moment.

What choice did I have, really? I had to return the favor, the treat she had given me the night before, right? I knew she was getting married. As far as I could tell, she loved her fiancé very much. I had not forgotten that simple fact even as we made love in the kitchen this morning. I had the excuse of not knowing it was her last night, of thinking it was Heather. But in that moment, as well as now, there was no such excuse. I was with a taken woman. I think part of me found that fact all the more exciting. I had never been with a taken woman. Especially one that, as far as I knew, had been in nothing but straight relationships up until that very moment.

But there in the kitchen this morning, I had made a choice to do just that. I had danced my fingers up and down Samantha’s side, resting them on her hips after having my fill of her supple breasts. I had needed more. And so I had started to trace my lips down, all while keeping my gaze turned up, just having to see her face. She had denied that last night, had prevented me from looking into her eyes. She would not do that anymore, I had determined. As I traced my lips down between her breasts, circling her small, cute little navel, I watched her, looked up at her, admired every gasp drawn from her lips, the way they puckered, the way she looked back down at me.

Then I reached it. The sweet, wet spot between her legs, covered only by a thin layer of fabric that I made quick work of by pushing aside. The smell of her arousal alone was enough to send a thrill through me. So I attacked it. I devoured that sweet flower. But I did so in the way a lover would. My lips kissing her own, my tongue sliding up between them, peeling her folds to find her sweet, hard, little nub and toy with it. And toy with it I did. I flicked it with the tip of my tongue, I squeezed it between my lips, I moaned as I suckled on it. I did everything to it that she had done to me the night before, all while looking up into her eyes, watching all the contortions of her pleasure-filled face as I drove her to one orgasm after the next.


Before I could think on it more, I felt the sleeping angel next to me Gaziantep Eve Gelen Escort stir. I looked over to see her turn and face me with half-opened eyes.

“Mm, hello there, princess,” she smiled. She had never called me that before, but I did not exactly mind. “Getting started without me?”

I was a bit confused at first by this remark until I looked down and realized I had my hand between my legs steadily rubbing myself in slow circles. I had not realized just how into the memory of recent events I had dove, but it was apparently enough to enjoy it.

A blush rose to my cheeks and I quickly pulled my hand away. Being embarrassed by this did not make sense. I knew that. I had made love to this woman. I had known her for years. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. But it was instinct. I had never been caught masturbating before.

Samantha scooted closer, pressing her breasts against my shoulder as she cuddled with me. “We still have the rest of the night and all of Sunday for that,” She said, kissing my cheek and resting her hand on my flat stomach.

“I was thinking though. What about, well, your fiancé?” I was nervous to ask this question. She probably did not want to mention him. I was still not even sure why she had done this. My best guess was that this was just some silly one-time fling before she tied the knot. I think I would be okay with that, if only because she was my friend and I wouldn’t want her getting hurt by doing this with some stranger, but my heart kind of ached at the prospect of being used like that even by her. Perhaps especially by her.

“Like I said before. He doesn’t ever have to know.”

“But, I mean, why me? Why not another guy? I thought you were straight,” I said, immediately regretting it. I did not want to ruin what might have been a fantastic weekend.

“I am straight!” She replied, sort of confusing me even more, though part of me was starting to connect the dots.

“You are just my best friend, and, also, I knew you were lonely, so, you know, two birds with one stone sort of thing.” She said, kind of making sense, but I knew no straight girl—no truly straight girl—would hook up with another woman so easily—not to the point that she actually played the role of seducer anyway.

“So you and John are okay?” I asked. By this point she had, much to my dismay, pulled away and sit up on the opposing side of the bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Jen. I just need you here with me right now. I need you close. Can I trust you?”

I quickly crawled over next to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and laying my head on her shoulder. “Of course, Sam, I’m here,” I replied, softly kissing her neck. At this point, I had my legs on either side of her own, my breasts to her shoulder blades and stomach to the small of her back as I held her close.

“I saw you and Heather dancing,” she whispered, taking me aback for a moment. “We all did, but I think you were too into it to notice.” Samantha turned her head a little to the side, just enough that she was probably able to see me from the corner of her eye. “I know you have a thing for her, and I’m sorry that I’m not her.”

My heart leaped a little, and I turned my head so I was no longer looking directly at her. If I had seen myself in a mirror, I would have seen how bright my cheeks were burning. It was just like having been caught with my hand between my legs moments ago. A secret part of me, the crush on Heather, had been made public.

“That’s another reason I did it, I think. You don’t spend as much time at work with Heather as I do. She isn’t so nice under the surface. I think you could do better, but that’s not my place to say really. I just thought it would be nice if you weren’t so frustrated all the time. We can all see it on your face, Jen, sweetie. I miss my old roommate who, even when single, would be so very optimistic.”

The way she talked almost made it sound like it was all out of pity. I cannot say I had ever been on the receiving end of pity-sex before. I still held out hope there was more to it than that. Especially since it had been far more than just one time. The first was last night, and maybe that was pity mixed with curiosity for her, but then what of the kitchen this morning? And what of the couch a few hours ago where she once again went down on me? And the many hours we have just spent in bed together until neither of us could keep our eyes open, until we were both beat from the sexual work out, until we had fell asleep in each other’s arms? That was more than pity. But before I could reply, the soft buzz of her phone vibrated on the nearby lamp desk. She reached and picked it up. I could see John’s face on the front screen.

“Hi dear!” Samantha said as she answered the call, holding it to her ear, but making no move to pull from me. “How is it going? Yeah?” I could only half-make out what he was saying. It was something about having a good time with the guys. No doubt gambling considering where they were. “Yeah, me and the girls had a great night. No, no, nothing for you to worry about. We went out drinking, dancing, and then a lot of us came back here for an old fashioned slumber party.” I think I heard him make some joke about pillow fights and make out sessions. “Don’t be so crude. No, no. They have all gone home now. It’s just me all by my lonesome.” I was a little surprised she didn’t say I was there. It would not have been unusual. She was my best friend after all, and I was in her bridal party. “Okay, yeah. I’m just going to take a shower and spend the rest of the evening relaxing. Love you too! Have fun!” And then the call was over.

“Samantha, I should probably go,” I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable now. I did not want to be the source of anyone’s pain. I should have been stronger before and stopped her this morning. I should have simply grabbed my shirt and left.

But she laid the phone next to her, grabbed my hands, and wrapped my arms more tightly around her. “Jen, stay, please?” Her happy façade from speaking on the phone had suddenly shifted into something else. How could I say no? There was something she was not telling me and what kind of friend would I be if I did not try to find out so I could help her?

It did not help, either, that she slid my hand between her legs. “Sam…” I breathed into her ear as my heart thumped rather loudly in my chest.

“Just hold me, Jen,” she replied, using her fingers over mine to guide me between her folds. Soon I was making small circles around her clit all of my own free will. “Oh, Jen,” she moaned, leaning her head back onto my shoulder. Her soft hair matted against my flesh. I kissed her neck softly and she finally released both my hands once she realized I needed no more encouragement. I was doing just fine with rubbing her sensitive nub myself now, moving my other hand up to caress her right breast, kneading the tender mound as I rubbed her. She spread her legs, forcing me spread as well. She was squirming back against me now, her beautiful, round bottom gyrating between my legs. Needless to say, I was incredibly wet, and was starting to squirm back, to roll my hips some so as to get any friction her bottom might offer me.

But primarily I was focused on her. On her body. Her desires. Her pleasures. It was her moans that were exciting me the most. They filled the room more and more the longer we went. As my fingers pinched and tugged her clit, as they flicked and teased, as two of them finally penetrated her, the room filled with a sea of moans. A sea I wanted nothing more than to drown in. To dive into every trench and explore fully.

“Jen, yes! Don’t stop, please. No one has ever touched me like you,” she gasped as I started to pump my fingers slowly into her, only picking up pace with time, letting her body ease into the motions. “Kiss me,” she added, turning her head toward me, still laid back on my shoulder. I had to crane my neck to lean down at just the right angle, but when I did, and when her lips met mine, we both trembled. I felt her tense around my fingers, felt the vibrations of a powerful moan against my lips, and felt her hips arched strongly forward. She came right there in my arms a mere fifteen minutes after hanging up with her fiancé, and I was too aroused to feel a single ping of guilt.


I looked at the clock. It was now approaching 8:30pm. We had only left the bed to take a shower together, where, predictably, we had made love again—this time with her on her knees between my legs as the hot water washed over us both. Other than that, we had not been very productive at all. We had not even eaten, and I think that was probably the only thing keeping our hands off each other right now.

“Let’s go out,” Samantha said. “I am starving but I am so not about to make anything.” She was never that great of a cook anyway. “And I don’t really feel up for ordering in, you know?”

“Okay. Where to?” I asked, far too entranced still to argue, even though I really did not want to get out of bed. As long as I was in bed, I could continue to pretend nothing else exited in this world other than us. Truly, though, she could have probably asked me to jump from a bridge right now and I wouldn’t bat an eye. I’d only jump as long as she promised to be there with me.

“I know a great Italian restaurant down on the corner of 5th and Davis. I hear they have great food,” she said. “I’ll pay. My treat for my special lady,” she added. I guess I was her special lady now? I only wondered how special. And I knew the restaurant she was talking about. It was not casual at all. In fact, it was the kind of restaurant two types of people went to. Rich CEOs holding business meetings with likewise rich clients, and those looking to impress a date.

“I don’t really have anything to wear. I don’t think my plaid shirt would work for that, or my skirt… and I think we have ruined my panties,” I quickly added, hoping maybe she would decide ordering in would be better after all.

“Don’t worry. I have a closet full of clothes. I’m sure we can find something to fit you,” she said. “Even panties, if you really must wear any.” She shot me a playful wink and I couldn’t help but giggle.

She was swift to pull me to her closet, a rather spacious walk-in with dresses, skirts, shirts, pants, and coats of every level of dress lining the walls, from casual to romantic to business. I suppose I was not very surprised that she was quite organized either. She had always been the organized of us, one of the reasons she was so successful in editorial work. I was also not very surprised when she reached for the section of dresses clearly designed for more romantic evenings, just like this would likely turn out to be.

“Here, try this,” she said, holding a black dress up against my still naked body. It was slender and unlike any of the sort of clothes I was used to. I was never good at being overly feminine so when I looked at the mirror on the far end of the closet and saw the slender black dress in front of me, it felt like looking at an entirely different woman.

“I’m not sure this is for me, Sam,” I replied. I always wore more mundane outfits. Borderline tomboyish in nature.

“Don’t be silly. You would look great in it! I know you would. At least try it on, for me?” She shot me her best puppy dog eyes with pouted lips to match.

Yet again I found myself unable to resist, so I nodded.

“Great! I’m thinking it should fit. I know we have different sizes and all,” she was clearly referring to our chest sizes more than anything else, “but this is an older number from my teenage years. I know. I know. I’m a pack rat. I hate throwing anything away, and I sometimes squeeze myself into my old outfits from time to time.”

“Well, I will try it, but that’s all I can promise. You know I don’t really do dresses.”

“But I also know you wished you could, so let me help you. If you don’t like it, we can always do something else, kay? Besides, you looked dead sexy in that skirt yesterday. All the others were eyeing you up, you know. Men, women, Heather… me…”

I blushed and nodded once more, then I stepped into the dress, pulling it up my legs, wiggling it over my hips and slipping my arms beneath the thin shoulder straps. It was tighter than I would have expected. Even the chest was snug. I could never have imagined Sam fitting herself into it, but I did not know her before college. No way she could have fit into it now though. It really did not make sense that she would have held onto it, but people do weirder things, and this closet was big enough to fit a lifetime’s worth of clothes, so why not?

She grabbed my shoulders and faced me toward the mirror. “See! You look gorgeous, Jen,” she said. And, I had to admit, I did look pretty good. The dress actually accentuated my hips and, as I turned to the side and noticed, my bottom as well, giving me much more of a feminine shape that my normal clothes ever did. I would be the kind of woman I might go after. Okay, maybe not go after. I was never the forward type as my days spent lusting after Heather had proven. But I would certainly think of me.

“We aren’t through though,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What about you? What are you wearing?” I asked, but she seemed to ignore this question as she pulled out a case of makeup. I knew what was coming next. She was getting a little too into this, turning it into a genuine makeover.

“Go sit on the bed. I want to see something.” I did as she asked, walking back to the disarray of sheets and pillows that we had created earlier and taking a seat softly on the edge of the bed, both palms planted back to prop myself up in a lazy posture. That posture did not last. As soon as she walked in with several items of makeup tucked beneath her arms, she kneeled in front of me and tugged me up right. “Now be still. I’m going to make you look perfect for our date.”


“Shh, don’t talk. I can’t put your lipstick on with your lips moving. Pucker for me.”

I puckered my lips out as she slid the pink lipstick across my lips, then I pressed my lips together to even it out and make them look full. That was about the extent of my personal makeup experience, but she wasn’t done with me. She pulled out some mascara next and went to town. I was very much hoping she was not turning me into some clownish rendition of whatever her fantasy woman might be—strange to even think of Sam as having a fantasy woman. But I trusted her.

After this—some blush, and some other things which, honestly due to my massive inexperience, I knew not the names of—she held up a mirror for me to look. I was shocked. As much makeup as she had used, I actually very much looked natural with just a soft shade of pink emanating from my lips and cheeks, and very dark blue around my eyes.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” I replied, still amazed that the woman looking back at me was, in fact, me.

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