Erin was thirty-five, and so was I. We’d lived in the same dormitory in college; her room was a few doors down from mine. She was the “hippie chick” ... long frizzy hair the color of honey, always smelling faintly of incense and pot, with a free and easy attitude toward the things that most of my other dorm-mates took far too seriously -- things like studies, dating, sex, and careers.
In a way, that was what we’d had in common. Both of us were outcasts in that scene. For my part, I’d come from a strict religious background and felt squeamish about anything that was related to sex or dating. Not that I had much of that going for me, anyway. I was taller than the rest, with what my parents called “strong features” that detracted from any image of femininity that I was trying to project. To make things worse, I didn’t have much of a bust back then, and my waist was thicker than men expected it to be. The rest of the girls pretty much ignored me, except when they needed a little help with their studies. Until Erin moved into the dorm in our sophomore year, I contented myself with long walks in the woods near the campus.
But Erin was different. She always seemed glad to see me, and we had many long talks about everything under the sun, from our tastes in food to our philosophy and politics. While her beliefs and opinions were quite foreign to my upbringing, she never judged. We seldom agreed on matters of religion, but I sensed that in spite of her agnosticism, she was a deeply spiritual woman.
And she was more comfortable in her body than anybody I had ever met. She often went nude from her room to the showers or the bathroom, never bothering to even put on a robe as the rest of us girls did. She had nothing to be ashamed of, though. Her breasts were high and firm, with pink nipples that always seemed erect. She never wore a bra; in fact, I don’t think she even owned one. She had a slim waist, wide hips, and a firm ass. And she never shaved her armpit hair, unlike the rest of us. I don’t know if she shaved her legs then, but they never seemed hairy, although her crotch hair was profuse. It was rumored that she’d had plenty of experience with men, although she never talked to us about her sex life.
But her most attractive assets were her legs, because she loved to hike, too. And that was the thing that really connected us. We became companions then, always taking long walks into the countryside or over to the next town. When we walked, we seldom talked, preferring to enjoy the silence of the woods or the roadsides. Her stamina was phenomenal. It was a challenge for me to keep up with her at first, but eventually I could match her stride for stride. My own legs grew stronger and shapelier over the years, although I seldom felt comfortable enough to show them off in shorts.
Well, we graduated and went our separate ways. But when I joined Facebook thirteen years later, I found a friend request from her, and we re-connected. It turned out that she’d gotten married but divorced soon afterwards; she didn’t say why. There were no children. I myself had remained single. I’d had one romantic experience in the interval, but it hadn’t gone well; Darren had tried to push it past my comfort zone, and when we finally fucked, I found it painful and asked him to stop. Instead, he rammed it in all the way and ejaculated into me, and I had an anxious couple of weeks wondering if he’d impregnated me. The pain of intercourse, the fear of pregnancy, and the lack of respect he’d shown me all contributed to a reluctance to seek further romantic companionship. I wasn’t a virgin anymore, but I may as well have been one.
Erin was now living in a cabin on the outskirts of rural town about a three-hour drive from me, and she invited me over one Saturday. When I got there, she gave me a big hug, and then a light lunch. We chatted freely, catching up on our lives. Within minutes, it was as though we’d never parted. She was as gay and sunny as she’d always been, and I found a little of my own college personality seeping back.
Then she proposed that we go for a hike, like in the old days. There was a pond, she said, quite a ways up the mountain that overlooked her property. It was a two-hour hike to get there, but she had never seen anybody else there; we’d have the place to ourselves. She took a small back-pack with her, and made sure we had plenty of water.
And, after a challenging hike up the mountain, there we were. The pond was just as she described it, large enough to swim in, and shaded by tall trees except for a sunny meadow at the near end from the trail.
“Hey, wanna go for a swim?” she said. But she was already taking off her shorts and blouse. She was braless, of course, as she’d always been.
“I didn’t bring a suit,” I protested.
“You don’t need one here. C’mon. I brought towels.” By this time, she was pulling her hiking shoes off her feet.
“Won’t anybody see?” I said.
“Naw. Nobody comes here! It’s just us!” With that, she shucked her socks and panties and headed for the sandy beach at the lake’s edge, totally nude.
Well, the nudity was obviously familiar territory for her, but not for me. I stood there for a second, but the challenge in her voice provoked me to action. Was I such a fuddy-duddy after all these years? So I stripped, too.
It was the first time I’d ever been naked outdoors. To my surprise, I enjoyed the feel of the sun and the breezes on my skin, and the grass and sand under my bare feet. Erin, already knee deep in the water, grinned as she saw me walk toward her. She lifted her arms and extended them to me. Her armpits were tufted with fine hair, the same color as the profuse hair on her crotch. She looked like a creature of nature itself, an earth goddess, in her element as she stood there, her nude body glowing in the sunlight.
Her looks had hardly changed at all in fifteen years. Her hair was now shorter, and maybe her boobs hung a little lower and her waist was a tad thicker, but there was nothing different about her utter comfort with being naked. Her smile was as confident and inviting as ever. Within minutes, I was as comfortable with my nudity as she was, and reveled in how the cool water felt as I immersed myself. I’d always trusted my bathing suit to help absorb the shock of the cold water on my vulva and ass and breasts, but now there was no buffer, and the effect was bracing.
We splashed each other like children, we swam, and we chatted. Then we left the water, and Erin reached into her back-pack and produced some more bottled water, two large towels, and a bottle of sun-tan oil. “Dry off,” she said, “and then we’ll get some rays.”
We spread out the towels on the grass. “Do me a favor and do my back,” she said as she held out the oil bottle. “I’ll do yours.”
I was a bit startled at the suggestion; it was the first time I’d touched somebody so intimately since I broke up with Darren. But it seemed innocent enough, so I complied and spread the oil onto her perfectly tanned back. Then she did the same for me, and I felt her hands massage my back as she rubbed the oil into the skin. She left it to me to apply the oil to the rest of my body, so I took it to mean that she wasn’t trying to seduce me.
We lay on the towels and I watched each other oil ourselves up. But instead of giving her boobs and cunt a perfunctory oiling, as I did, she took her time with them. I watched, spellbound, as she lay on her back, her finger sliding along her cleft. There was no doubt about it. She was masturbating, right in front of me! And she was looking at me.
“You can do it, too,” she whispered.
“No,” I replied.
“Do you mind if I do it?”
“No. Go ahead.”
She smiled and resumed her play. It wasn’t long before her fingers were in her cunt, plunging in and out, her thumb pressing on her clit. Then her ass lifted off the towel and she was supporting her weight with her feet and shoulders. I heard her breaths turn into gasps, each one deeper than the last. And right after that, she climaxed with a squeak and a shiver, and her body slumped back onto the towel.
She rolled over on to her side and regarded me with a dreamy smile. “Thanks for letting me do that! I always do it when I come up here. The oil, the sun, the water, the smell of the grass ... they seduce me.”
I smiled back. “Thanks for letting me watch. I remember how unself-conscious you always were back in the day. You haven’t changed a bit!”
“Oh, yes, I have! Now I’m hornier! I feel that I’m coming into my full potential now as a woman, in a way that I wasn’t when I was twenty. But can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Why didn’t you join me?”
That stopped me cold, and I took a while to answer. I thought about Darren, I thought about the pain. And it occurred to me that I had never given myself permission to climax after that episode. I didn’t want to kick that hornet’s nest of emotion and conflict. Every time I played with myself and found the erotic sensations growing, some sort of “safety valve” kicked in and killed them.
And that’s what I told Erin. It took me a while to get it all out, during which time she listened to every word. When I was finished, there were tears in my eyes, and in hers, too.
“Poor dear,” she said. “So you haven’t had an orgasm since then?”
“Erin, I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm. At least, not one like you just had!”
“Well, Connie, I think we have to do something about that!”
“Are you hitting on me, Erin? I’m not a Lesbian!”
.... There is more of this story ...