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.

We closed our eyes again; it seemed to be easier that way. She might have been dreaming of Johnny Depp, but by then, she was the only thing on my mind. The feel of her bare leg against mine was making me even wetter. I had three fingers playing in my puss, all warm and easy.

She made the next move. I felt the sofa lurch, and she was lifting her leg away from mine, which was a bit disappointing. I opened my eyes, and had to smile. She was taking her bikini pants off! I closed my eyes again quickly, and she slid her leg back to where it had been, now she was almost sitting on my foot, I could feel the softness of her bum on it. I eased forwards a couple of inches and felt her foot alongside my bum. I wiggled my toes, she wiggled back and we both giggled. I waited a few moments and decided it was my turn to take off my knickers.

We settle companionably, legs resting against each other, but when I move my foot to where I thought it was before, my big toe touches something warm and wet and hairy! It sends a shiver right through me, and I hear the breath catch in Angie's throat, but she doesn't pull away. I risk a look, and she's got a secret smile on her lips. I move my toe, almost casually, and it lightly caresses her slightly open labia, she's rubbing her clit, round and round, and giving it the occasional pat. She seems to push a little bit towards me, and next thing I know my big toe slips into her, just like that! She bites her lips, and as her eyelids flutter open, I close mine. This is too fucking naughty for words!

"Ahhhh..." she sighs, and her hips start to writhe; she's losing her self-consciousness, and beginning to go with the flow.

I begin to ever so subtly fuck her with my toe. The position I'm in doesn't allow me much movement, but it's so delicious. She's got a big, hairy cunt, very womanly and lush, and it feels lush too as I push a little bit deeper.

"Oh Johnny, you are a bad, bad boy," she murmurs.

I smile to myself, so that's the way she wants to play it. Pretending I'm a man. I don't mind that as long as she's happy with it. Now I just want to fuck her, feel her getting hornier and hornier, make her cum. I'm getting very squelchy and my clit is throbbing so much I daren't touch it. She's so open and wet my toe is barely touching the sides. I want to fill her more, and from the way she's moving now, she wants the same.

I decide a little change is in order. I slide my toe out of her, and lift my left leg from the floor. She moans and then gasps when I almost cover her pussy with my left foot, feeling the wetness and the heat through its sole. Now I can move more freely. I begin to dabble my toe just inside her, and she coos softly. I thrust it in and out, fucking her, and she loves it. Her left hand is speeding up on her clit, and she's fondling one her tits with the other.

The more I fuck her, the wetter and more open she gets. I let my bent leg lean outwards, and the new angle means my other toes are lined up with her pussy. I thrust a little harder, and fuck me, but she begins to open up to my foot! Soon all my toes are wet, and she's humping on them, rotating her hips. I take a quick glimpse at her. She's biting her lower lip, her eyes screwed tight shut, a look of blissful concentration on her face. She's pulled one of her tits out of her bra, and she's tugging on the big stiff nipple. Between her legs it's getting a bit outrageous. I can feel her heat right down to the ball of my foot; half of it seems to be fucking her. I've never done anything quite like this before. I've frigged and licked and fondled and scissored, but nothing this kinky. I fucking love it.

I can smell her pussy, her arousal, I can smell myself. We're perfuming the warm air with sex. I pull out one of my tits too; my nipple is tingling like mad. It's great having both hands free to pleasure myself. I go faster, and feel my foot slide a bit deeper. Her pussy feels fabulous, it's beginning to squeeze on me rhythmically, and her breathing is getting ragged. Soon I'm losing control too, thrusting harder, almost kicking my foot in and out of her, turning it from side to side so that it stretches her more, and that's when she starts to go mental. Next thing I know, she's let go of her tit and she's grabbing at my ankle, pulling me in and out, even deeper, using my foot like a giant dildo, growling and moaning out loud, fucking herself frantically until she suddenly arches, jolts, cries out, smacks her clit fast and hard, and comes! I feel her pussy clamping on my foot, the spasms shuddering right up through my leg to my pussy, which explodes in an orgasm to match hers.

Neither of us stops coming for ages, and when we do we find ourselves looking at each other like we've only just met, which is some ways is true. Our faces are flushed, bodies trembling, my foot is still inside her, flexing gently.

Angie let go of my ankle and ran a finger all the way round her foot-stuffed vulva.

"That wasn't Johnny Depp who made me come ... it was you, you saucy bitch," she chuckled, and I was so amazingly glad, because it meant she didn't regret it at all.

I began to draw my foot out of her, but she grabbed my ankle again.

"Leave it in there ... I like it." She growled, and there was this greedy sound in her voice I hadn't heard before. "It's the first time I've felt nice and full like this since ... well, since." She chuckled again, tossing her hair back.

I nudged her with my foot, and she kind of writhed on it.

"Fuck, I can't believe how good that feels," she moaned.

My foot felt like it was in a warm, tight bath. It was such a sexy sensation. Even though I'd just come, I was still all hot and bothered. I began to slowly fuck her again. Angie took her other tit out, and played with both her nipples. It was like we were in this trance or something, just the two of us in the whole world. I dug deeper, and Angie pushed onto me. I flexed my toes fast, and her soft but cellulite free belly shook like a jelly in a gale. I pulled out my other tit too, and copied Angie.

"Aren't you going to say something then?" Angie asked, and I realised that I hadn't spoken since I'd mentioned Brad Pitt.

"I'm sorry, but this is so fucking awesome I'm a bit lost for words," I replied. I thrust firmly, twisting my leg. I could feel her pussy lips against my heel, my toes were wiggling against what must have been her cervix. "I'm wearing you like a shoe!" I exclaimed.

"What are you doing to me?" Angie growled urgently, she seemed to love it best when I really stretched her.

"Never laid a hand on you, honest!" I couldn't help laughing.

Angie joined in and I felt it through her pussy, rippling over my foot.

"Don't start me laughing, it'll make me come again!" She protested, wiping her eyes.

She licked her hand and began to play with her clit. I was so into doing her that I'd even stopped playing with myself. It looked so sexily pornographic that it reminded me of a DVD I saw with Paul, not all that long ago.

"I bet I could fist you," I said. "You've got most of my foot up there without even trying." Because as good as it felt on my foot the idea of putting my hand inside her was better, but it would be a bit more of a commitment too.

This fucking her with my foot had happened completely by accident, really. If we did something else, that would be making a choice. I knew I was ready for it, but was Angie?

"I thought only gay men in the eighties did that," she said, but I couldn't tell if she was put off or interested.

"I saw it in a dirty DVD with Paul." I told her, conversationally. "It certainly got us going, and the woman who was getting it looked like she was genuinely getting off on it too, I mean really getting off on it. She squirted like you wouldn't believe at the end of it."