Vanessa (L)

(L) – This story contains brief strong language. 

The warm and inviting glow from the vanilla-scented candles flickered across the wall, the soft shadows cast by their light growing and receding in time with the gentle, sea-salt laden air drifting into our oceanfront hotel room.

The sound of the shower suddenly cut, and seconds later Vanessa walked out of the already-open bathroom door wrapped in a white fluffy hotel towel. I lay on the bed and savored the coolness from the air conditioner mixing with the scent from the candles and the sea breeze wafting in through the windows.

We had spent most of the day at the beach, and I could see the evidence before me of how the sun had kissed her face and shoulders, save for where the straps of her swimsuit top had held her ample bosom in place.

Her short, dark hair clung closely to her forehead and neck, still heavy with wetness from her shower. As she stood before me, she locked eyes with me and gave me a playful smile as she leaned forward with a bow and, like a magician on a stage, removed her towel with a dramatic flourish. She innocently hummed along with the band playing covers of 80’s rock songs on the terrace of the large open-air bar outside. Her nude body swayed hypnotically in time to the music as she used her towel to dry her hair. 

She wrapped the towel into a makeshift turban, set out two wine glasses, and poured herself some wine. She slowly sipped the wine as she strutted hypnotically toward the queen-size bed where I lay. Several stray droplets of water from her shower traveled slowly down her face and neck, one of them tauntingly reaching her right breast, which she reached to brush away in an absent-minded fashion with her left hand. As she did so, her hand slowed and sensuously began to rub the breast as she sipped the wine still held in her right hand. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh of pleasure as she did this. She opened them again to see if I was looking, and gazed deeply into my eyes, a playful sparkle in her own.

In response to her playfulness, I stretched forward and reached out in an attempt to grab the towel from her head. With a giggle, she jumped away, just out of reach, and some of the wine spilled out of her glass and arched across the sheets, floor, and onto her pendulous breasts and protruding belly.

“Oopsies!” she exclaimed, before shaking her index finger at me in a scolding manner. Then she turned around and slowly strutted back toward the wine bottle on the counter, her voluminous ass swaying and quivering slightly as she walked.

She poured more wine and drank deeply from her glass, finishing it with a soft, sensual moan before pouring herself another one. With a giggle, she began to dance, her breasts jiggling tantalizingly as she swayed to the 80s standards being played outside.

Vanessa had stirred my heart with her dancing when I first began to fall in love with her. As my breath quickened with lust for her body, I was reminded of the words of my mother when she saw the way Vanessa’s dancing affected me: “That girl knows what she’s doing!” My friend Vanessa and I had danced many times in the living room together when she’d come over to visit, and my mother clearly had seen the signs that our friendship was slowly becoming something more. I remember when I first told my parents after a shared dinner that I thought I was in love with Vanessa. And I still remember my mother’s response, as she looked at my dad and smiled, then turned back toward me and said, “We know.”

About a year after becoming something more than just friends, Vanessa and I became husband and wife. And now, in this oceanfront hotel room, we were cultivating that new aspect of our relationship—and the added benefits of being something more than just close friends.

Vanessa stopped her naked dancing and I noticed her new point of focus—the now-tenting underwear I was wearing.

“Aww, is my hunny uncomfortable?” she asked with a playful smirk. She walked over and began to slowly pull my underwear down. When she’d fully removed them, she tossing them away with a flourish. She left my body vibrating with the thrill of being completely naked and exposed as the mischievous warmth of her playful eyes explored me.

She clambered playfully—if a bit ungracefully—onto the bed at my feet. She gave me a sensuous hug, running her hands slowly over my chest, and then reclined on the bed in front of me. She closed her eyes and let her hands slowly drift aimlessly across her skin. She knew how much I loved it when she did that, and my heart began to race, knowing what came next.

She slowly used one hand to lift a breast to her lips, and began to orally tease and nibble various areas of the breast before becoming more focused on the area around the nipple. Her other hand began to make more deliberate motions, traveling more exclusively along her belly, thighs, and legs.

The sounds of her hands on her own skin were already tantalizing, but then the kissing and sucking began, and I was a lost man.

The dance of her lips and tongue along her nipple grew more and more erotic, and she began to kiss herself frantically and lustfully, her back beginning to arch forward just a bit for better access. Her areolas darkened in response to the wild arousal of her playful and slightly drunken self-love. I noticed her whole body jolting as a wave of pleasure took her under, her jiggling nipple disappearing hopelessly beyond her trembling lips.

As the maelstrom of her pleasure increased, I observed as her free hand slowly began to trace her inner thighs, back and forth in a hypnotic pattern. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her cupped hand suddenly turned its attention to her vulva, as if it had a mind of its own. She rocked her hips a bit against her closed hand, her eyes clenching tightly. With two extended fingers, she slowly began to trace small circles around her clearly-aroused vulva. The focus centered in on her engorged clitoris, and as the motions became more rhythmic, deliberate, and erratic, the sounds of her wetness filled the air like the distant syncopated waves serving as a backdrop to this delicious experience.

“Mmmmhmmmm!!!” she exclaimed in a quavering voice, as her body reached sexual plateau. Without even being touched, either by her or by myself, my chest heaved in time with her ragged breathing, as my empathetic eyes and ears were causing me to—whether I liked it or not—share in the very pleasure she was experiencing.

She came with a spasm, her body twitching uncontrollably as vaginal fluids seeped onto the bedsheets. Her leg kicked out unconsciously, bumping the bedside table and upsetting her wineglass. I was still watching, but I was laying back a bit now, sides heaving in ecstasy, as I had ejaculated hands-free only moments before. This was an intense one, as hands-free orgasms always are for me, and I lay motionless on the bed for a few minutes with a slight, throbbing headache.

After Vanessa had well and truly recuperated from her sexual high, and after briefly rubbing the slight bruise on her own leg, she began to rub my shoulders, then wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug—not the hug of a lover this time, but the hug of the best friend I had known for what seemed like forever. We lay like that for what felt like a blessed eternity, but in all likelihood was closer to twenty minutes.

**********

Vanessa got up, served herself a new glass of wine, got one for me as well, and brought them back to the bed with her. We sipped our wine slowly and talked with the comfort and ease of lifelong friends.

As we were lost in conversation, she turned her head suddenly.

The band outside had just begun to play the familiar opening chords of “Don’t Stop Believin’”, Vanessa’s favorite song. Her beautiful, full lips parted into a childlike grin, and she raised her hands over her head and began dancing and bobbing with excitement while still seated on the bed, as if she were in a concert mosh-pit. I smiled while observing her infectious energy, laughter and joy, and as her still-bare bosom began to jiggle and bounce, before long, I was erect again.

Vanessa saw this and, with another dramatic flourish and a playful yelp, she pushed me back down into the pillows and mounted me, grinding herself against me. As the music continued to build outside, she impaled her wet womanhood on my hard cock and began rocking her hips in time with the thudding beat of the rock drums, her face the very picture of ecstasy and childlike wonder.

As the music reached its crescendo, so did our passion. 

“Don’t stop believin’….”

“Oh yesss!!”

“Hold on to the feelin’…”

“F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!!!”

“Streetlights, people…”

“Oh, Daddy, yessss!!!”

Our bodies moved as one, in a beautiful dance to her favorite song.

I will be the last to pretend our relationship has always been easy, or that everything has been handed to us on a silver platter. But I’m so glad I married my Vanessa. She is my vixen, my best friend, and the shining stars in my sky, and I love her in a way I never thought possible.

Cultivating a sexual side to our already strong friendship has been the most rewarding challenge and blessed adventure, and, good Golly, we’ve had some great sex over the years!

Don’t Stop Believin’!

-NorthernSky