I never really intended it to happen, but sometimes these things just do. Blame the heat, blame the booze if you like, and you can even blame me, because I don't regret a thing. At least we've managed to contain it to once or twice a year since then, Brokeback Mountain style, but for women.
I'm Claire, she's Angie, and we met at work five years ago, hitting it off immediately, finding we had a matching humour of a sick and hilarious bent. We would share the odd illicit ciggie together when work became too stressful - both of us had given up, really. Angie is married to Richard, with two kids, I'm unmarried, living with my partner, Paul, no kids, and we don't want any. But none of this is to do with home or family, this is to do with Claire-and-Angie-time, the time we spend together, our girlie holidays. It didn't happen on the first one, which was a bit of a washout, but the year we went on a painting holiday to Andalusia, we changed forever one hot afternoon.
It was a day off, midway through the week, and everyone else had gone on a shopping trip. We're lazy cows on holiday, and we decided to stay at the hotel and make use of the pool and the magnificent views. We had a cute little apartment too, not just a couple of dull over-furnished rooms like we'd had the year before. There were two bedrooms, a single and a double. We had tossed up for who had which when we arrived, and I had won the double. The sitting room looked right out over the Med, which glimmered behind the green hills in front of us. Quite idyllic. The hotel also had a trust bar, where you wrote down what you had taken, and helped yourself; a bit deadly for the likes of us, who like a good drink at the best and worst of times.
We spent the morning at the pool. It was hot, we swam, sunbathed, chatted idly and read a bit, as innocent as you like. Midday came, and we had sandwiches, which needed to be washed down with something. We decided to eat in the apartment, and pick up a little something from the bar, on the way. We had both taken a liking to the local champagne as soon as we arrived in Spain, so we snaffled one of the bottles from the fridge, wrote it down on our tab, and went upstairs. We ate, we drank, and soon we began to feel a bit sleepy in the heat of the afternoon.
Angie was half lying at one end of the sofa, a good comfy sprawl, one leg against the back of the sofa, the other stretched out, foot on the floor. I was at the other end, half-facing her, leaning on the armrest, legs up and sort of between hers, my head nodding a bit. Perhaps a snooze was in order. I was just beginning to think of having a proper lie down.
Now, something about the mix of sun, booze and being a wee bit sleepy generally has an effect on my libido. I hadn't had a shag for a couple of weeks, what with one thing and another. I knew that she and Richard were having a few problems, so it was quite likely, knowing her as I do, that she was in a similar frame of mind to me.
Before I go any further a little more about us. We're from the North, outskirts of Manchester. I was thirty-two, Angie was thirty-five. We're almost opposites physically, both of us are attractive in an understated way, nothing spectacular. I'm the tall slim one with a big nose, small tits and a big arse - our one point in common. Angie's shorter, but not short, she's got the prettier face, and she's the plump one and her big arse matched by her big full soft tits. I'm brunette, blue eyes, she's honey blonde, brown eyes, we both moan a bit about how we look, like women do, but nature could have been worse to both of us. I guess we've always found each other attractive on some level, but it's our minds that complement each other best. She's confident, gregarious, chatty, and I'm the quiet one, but after a few drinks I can be just as bad as her.
Angie has always been the dead straight one, likes her men, likes her booze, loves her kids. I had bit of a wild time when I was in my teens and twenties, but I've calmed down a lot since then, though not completely. Paul and I still like the odd spliff at bedtime, and he doesn't know it, and nor did Angie, but when I was a club babe back in the '90s, and when I was in the right mood and the right company, I was a quite partial to a bit of clam-jousting. I wouldn't say I was bisexual, I did used to say if asked that I was just sexual. If there was a willing woman near me, and I was buzzing on the amazing E's we used to get back in the day, chances are we'd have at least a good snog, and occasionally we'd go a lot further than that. I was one of those girls who wasn't averse to dragging another girl into the club toilets for a sniff of poppers and a quick frig, but on the whole, I preferred men. There was nothing I liked better than a good hard shag with a well-hung bloke.
I hadn't touched a woman in about five years, until that afternoon. One of the things I really like about Angie is that we can be really frank with each other about sex. We don't go on about it, but we do tell each other how we're feeling. Both of us admit we like to masturbate if the bloke isn't up to it, so it wasn't out of the ordinary when Angie dreamily said:
"Oh fuck, I'm feeling a bit horny, I think I'm going to have to go and take care of myself."
She had sort of soft and naughty grin on her face as she spoke. Something in my tummy kind of went 'oooohh'. When I'm all sun-warm and a bit pissed I'm always in the mood, and she'd caught me on the hop.
"I don't know though ... I don't know if I can be bothered to get up," She yawned, flopping back and closing her eyes.
Before I could stop myself this came out: "Stay here then, I'll help you out if you like." I think I meant it as a joke. Angie opened her eyes and looked at me, all surprised. 'Oops' I thought, 'Claire, you've gone too far.' But next thing you know, we're talking about it like I might have meant it.
I'd expected her to laugh it off, but fuck me, she was taking it seriously! We'd been best mates for a couple of years, and nothing like this had ever come up before. I poured us out the last of the champers, and we were sipping it as we chatted, and chatting about sex just made me hornier, because I kept on looking at Angie, and realising that one of the reasons I liked her so much was that deep down I must have always fancied her a bit. I'd never really thought about her like that before, but when I did, she immediately reminded me of a girl I used to meet out clubbing, who got off on the odd bit of same gender toilet sex, just like me, and we'd gone back to her place and slept together half a dozen times over a year or so. She was straight too, but we set off something in each other. Now Angie was setting me off in the same way. I'm not an idiot, I wouldn't want to ruin a friendship with another woman over sex, and it doesn't mean so much to me that not having it off would upset me unduly. I was quite happy to drop it, but Angie didn't.
Eventually she wheedled it out of me that I'd done it with women, and I told her a bit about one or two of my adventures. She said she'd never even come close, but the way she put it was:
"The opportunity's never arisen anyway."
Which meant she wasn't entirely denying it could happen, and that made me feel even more 'oooooh, ' inside. She was definitely getting hornier, I could easily tell because her skirt was hitched up halfway round her waist, and I could see her crutch. She had bikini bottoms on, pale blue, and I noticed a dark spot was slowly growing right where it matters! I couldn't keep my eyes off it, but I didn't say anything. By then I was getting wet too, believe me!
"If only Johnny Depp was here," Ange murmured, and we both laughed.
"Look Ange, if you want to give yourself one, you might as well do it here ... you look so comfortable," I said, because something I do enjoy is watching, and even if I didn't touch her I'd get off on it anyway, might even be better all round.
Paul and I like bit of porn to keep things exciting, but seeing someone you fancy really playing with themselves is a bit of a treat. Paul and I sometimes wank in front of each other, and it can be so fucking sexy.
"You know, I feel like it too ... In fact I'm as horny as fuck ... we can just play with ourselves on this lovely sofa, all nice and friendly, and no harm done." I said, my voice getting a bit husky.
Ange opened one eye, sort of speculatively, daring me I suppose. Then she closed her eyes completely and draped a hand, all casual like, on the wide vee of blue between her thighs.
"All right Johnny, you can have your way with me," she giggled, and I nearly gasped out loud as slid she her hand under the elastic and cupped her pussy. Somehow, seeing her hand begin to move under the material was even sexier than if she was completely naked.
"I'll have Brad, if you're monopolising Johnny," I quipped, and followed suit, sliding my fingers into my knickers, combing through my bush, and finding myself swollen and sopping wet.
I let my head fall back, and concentrated on my own pleasure for a little while. Two fingers slipping in and out, so warm and juicy, and knowing that Angie was doing the same a couple of feet away was such a fucking turn on!
I purred a bit, Angie gave a sweet little moan. I looked, and she was looking at me! We both blushed scarlet. Two grown women with kids and partners and careers, wanking like a couple of horny experimenting schoolgirls. I wasn't meaning to start anything further, I just wanted to move one of my legs to a more comfortable position, I leaned it against Angie's, my foot was almost under her big round bum, my big toe just a couple of inches from where her hand was still rhythmically moving under her bikini.
.... There is more of this story ...