Best Friends Become More
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NOTE 1: This is a Nude Day 2012 contest story so please enjoy and vote.
NOTE 2: Thanks to Estragon for copy-editing and catching a couple of plot flaws in the original draft and LaRascasse for plot suggestions.
Best Friends Become More
They saw “What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas” and Zoey argued the same theory while we were in Amsterdam. “Seriously Mia, stop being such a prude, you only live once.”
I shook my head. “You got to be kidding me. You want to go to a nude beach?”
“What else should two hot ladies do on Nude Day?” she shrugged, finishing her third free drink, courtesy of three different guys trying to get in her pants.
Zoey was a twelve out of ten. She had black as night hair, emerald green eyes, ruby red lips and dimples that made her look both innocent and seductive at the same time, an oxymoron that seemed impossible, yet true. If her face was beautiful, her body made men drool even more. Her 40D breasts defined gravity, and just as much as her breasts showcased her upper half, her curved, toned ass perfected her bottom half. Although she was short, only 4’11, her legs were enhanced by her obsession with stockings and five inch heels. She was a goddess and she knew it. She had used her looks to get through high school, get out of speeding tickets, get us upgraded to first class on the flight here and a trillion free drinks for her and her wallflower friend.
While Zoey was the outgoing one who was up for anything, I was the conservative one who was always there to protect her from herself. I wasn’t ugly, a solid seven, but when sitting beside a Picasso, I looked like the picture a grade one made for Mother’s Day…cute, but forgettable. I have dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and at 5’8, I am a giraffe when compared to Zoey. While she wore heels to make herself taller and accentuate her legs, I always wore flats and usually jeans or shorts. My breasts were non-existent, never blossoming like my grandmother said they would…at twenty-one I was still wearing an A-cup. My ass was my best feature I was told, especially in volleyball shorts.
Now many would wonder how Zoey and I became friends, being so different in almost every way, but isn’t that always the case?
She was an extreme extrovert, while I was an extreme introvert wishing I was an extrovert.
She was sexually promiscuous while I had exactly three boyfriends, two who I had slept with (three if you count a blow job at a party when I was really drunk…so drunk I don’t recall the encounter).
She dresses like a high class call girl while I dress like a jock.
She barely graduated high school and if it wasn’t for a couple blow jobs to nerds who wrote her essays she may not have, while I finished with honors in every class.
She was a cheerleader while I was a volleyball and basketball player.
That said, we did have some things in common: we both loved to travel (we spent at least two weeks every year travelling, although this was our first foreign trip together), we both loved eighties movies (Sixteen Candles being a favorite of both of us), we both loved the Backstreet Boys (it was our first concert), we were both sarcastic and we both believed in fate (the belief that things happen for a reason.). Of course, after what happened the next day, we assumed the Goddess of fate was smiling down on us.
Sarcastically I quipped, “Why don’t we find some sexy stud and spend Nude Day in a sweaty threesome?”
Ignoring my sarcasm, as she was apt to do when it was aimed at her, she purred, “Now you are talking.”
“I was kidding,” I sighed, before adding, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to go to a nude beach, especially with you.”
“Well, I am going,” she announced, in the decision is made and that is that tone, before adding, “It’s on my bucket list.”
I snapped, “Everything is on your bucket list.”
She countered right back, “Better than having no bucket list.”
The sarcastic exchanges going full throttle. “I have no time for a bucket list, I live through yours.” Once I said it I realized that, sadly, that was the case.
“Well then,” she suggested, “it is time to create your own bucket list.”
“No way,” I protested, but she was already pulling out a piece of paper.
“Let’s see,” she pondered. “Write a best selling novel.”
She pulled me in with my actual goal in life. I demanded the addition, “Yes, but without selling out.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “Now what else?”
In machine-gun fashion, while finishing a bottle of wine, the two of us created a realistic list of over fifty things to do before I die (including meet my ancestors in Italy, be the guest speaker at major event, meet John Green my favourite author, etc…), before she shifted the suggestions to the gutter. “Fifty-seven, get gangbanged.”
“Fuck off,” I shot back, “isn’t that your number three?”
“Seven actually, three is sex in every major city in the world.”
“Amsterdam is Anadolu Yakası Escort a major city,” I pointed out, instantly regretting it.
“Exactly why we need to go out for Nude Day,” she countered.
“Like you need to go anywhere to get laid,” I replied. “Just go to the bar downstairs and you could be horizontal in no time.”
“Actually, I like to be on top.” She smiled, before saying, “I am going for a shower. I expect at least five sexual things added to your incredibly boring bucket list.”
Being factitious, I made an absurd list:
1. Get fucked by all five members of the Backstreet Boys (although that one I would probably actually do if the opportunity presented itself)
2. Do a live strip show
3. Have sex in public
4. Be blindfolded and used as a sex slave
5. Dyke out
Looking at the list, I laughed to myself at how absurd my suggestions were, even though each had been a fantasy of mine at one point or another. I flipped on the TV and was shocked to learn a storm warning was being issued for Amsterdam for later tonight. I suppose it made sense it was sauna hot today and such heat often is followed by a storm.
Zoey came out of the shower, the hotel towel doing very little to cover her body, “So what did you write?”
I kept watching the TV and pointed to the table. After a few seconds, I turned to look at Zoey and saw my list had surprised her. She said, with a smile I had seen many times that usually meant trouble, “A pretty impressive list, Mia, a very impressive list.”
I stood up and attempted to clarify. “That was a joke, Zoey.”
Ignoring my clarification, Zoey continued, “I will help you make those happen Mia, although the Backstreet Boys are old men now.”
“The early thirties is not old,” I countered, pointing out, “Isn’t Harrison Ford on your list?”
“He is so fucking hot.”
“You live in double standard world.”
“Whatever,” she flippantly replied, implying she was done with the conversation. Shifting thoughts, she ordered, like I was hers to order around, “Go shower, we are going out.”
“Where?” I asked, dreading the thought, as I was still exhausted from the long day.
“I don’t know, but I need to check off one more city on my bucket list,” she announced, her intentions clear. My job, as she no doubt was about to get really drunk, when her standards dropped exponentially, was to make sure her choice was not some serial killer.
“Can’t we just stay in tonight, I am beat,” I countered, really not in the mood for babysitting a sure to be irresponsible Zoey.
“Stop being a prude, Mia. This trip was about getting you out of the shackles your Daddy has had you cuffed to your whole life,” she surprised me by saying.
“What?” I questioned, although I knew exactly what she was implying. When I told my Dad about my trip plans he freaked. He forbade me to go to the city of sin and he especially forbade me to go with, as he called her, ‘that bad apple Zoey’. I never told Zoey about this conversation with my Catholic priest of a father, but she knew my father disapproved of her.
“You have always been such a good girl, Mia. This trip conservative, shy Mia is being put away and being replaced by sexy, outgoing Mia,” she decided.
“I am pretty sure that Mia does not exist,” I countered, scared of what Zoey had in mind.
“Go shower,” she demanded, as if I was her child. I went to shower, knowing that once Zoey shifted to her authoritative self I always lost. It was easier to get blood from a stone than to change Zoey’s mind once she had finally made it up.
I had a long hot shower, while I considered my real sexual bucket list. My experiences were tame and innocent in comparison to Zoey’s, as although I had sinned on occasion, my biggest sins occurred in my head. Although the list was supposed to be extreme and obviously not me, the reality was those were my deep, dark secrets I fantasized about when alone and satisfying myself. Although I wasn’t a lesbian, as I liked men, I had long ago realized I was in love with Zoey, and that our friendship had in many ways been like a submissive relationship, minus the sex. She usually was in charge and I was usually doing Zoey’s bidding. All that said, my emotions always blurred between my love for Zoey as a friend or as something more.
My vagina tingling, I ignored a yearning to satisfy myself as I finished my shower, wrapped a towel around me and returned to the living room.
Zoey was already dressed to please, in a black leather skirt, black pantyhose and a slightly see-through blouse that outlined her black bra. On one bed was another outfit laid out. Zoey offered, “I picked some clothes for you, Mia.”
“What am I, your Barbie doll?” I snapped sarcastically.
Her smile devious, she retorted, “Mmmmm, I like that.”
I reached the bed and realized she expected me to wear a plaid mini-skirt, dark beige pantyhose and a white blouse that made me look like a high school Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan girl at a private school. “You got to be kidding,” I said, the skirt in my hand, “these are like panties.”
“Oh you are such a prude, Mia,” Zoey said.
“I am not a prude, nor am I a slut,” I countered.
Ignoring my shot, she pointed out, “A girl must always use her assets, Mia and you have an amazing ass and great legs.”
They say flattery will get you everywhere and it worked this time as I sighed and said, “I can’t believe the things you get me into.”
“It’s cause I love you, sexy,” she joked, coming over and kissing me on the cheek before going to the bathroom to put her face on.
Once dressed, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. I looked hot and the dark colored pantyhose really seemed to accentuate my white as snow legs.
Returning from the bathroom, Zoey startled me. “I told you.”
Suddenly feeling sexy, I said, “I can’t believe what a pair of pantyhose can do.”
“I know,” she agreed, dressed in black pantyhose herself. “Plus, men get a hard-on whenever they see a girl in nylons.”
“They do?” I asked, having never remotely considered hosiery anything but a nuisance, to be worn only for weddings and funerals.
“Indeed they do,” she replied, before adding with a devious smile, “and dykes love them too.”
“What?” I gasped, surprised by her declaration.
Her smile stayed, as she grabbed her purse and ignored the question. “Let’s go.”
The thought of Zoey being bi had me flushed, but I pushed down my inner turmoil and followed her out like I always did.
We were downstairs when the bellhop stopped us. “Ladies, I am sorry to bother you, but we have just been told to keep all guests inside as a huge storm has just begun to hit us.”
I looked out the window and saw the downpour that was currently underway.
Zoey, the drama queen she always was, asked, “And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”
The bellhop looked at her with the same carnal lust as so many had before him, but replied, “The hotel bar is currently open.”
Zoey’s smile returned as she grabbed my hand and led me to the bar. Three hours, a lot of drinks and tons of flirting later and we were both drunk and horny. Zoey had just decided was who would be her Amsterdam fuck when the bar was suddenly closed. We were quite drunk at the time, but apparently the storm had gotten worse and we were sent up to our room for precautionary measures. Zoey tried to get the sexy stud to take her with him, but she was rejected with surprised us both.
Back in our room, Zoey opened the curtains and we looked at the crazy storm. The rain was coming down so hard that you really couldn’t see across to the adjoining hotel.
Both drunk, tired and disappointed by how our night ended, we called it a night. In my bed, I waited until I thought Zoey was asleep before I went to my pussy for some much needed relief. I was close to orgasm when I heard moans from Zoey’s bed, she was masturbating too. Unlike me, who was stifling my moans with all my might, her moans echoed the room. I continued my self-gratification imagining it was me making her moan like that. The naughty thought had me cumming in a minute or two. As I recovered, I listened to Zoey’s climax a couple of minutes after mine, unaware that tomorrow it would be me making her scream like that.
The next morning, well, afternoon if truth be told, we groggily woke up and looked out the window. It was still pouring down. Clearly there was no nude beach today. Honestly, I was relieved; it was one less confrontation to have with Zoey. We ordered room service in as Zoey crabbily ranted about the weather and not making it to the beach.
A couple of hours later, both of us showered and the rain showing no signs of stopping,
Zoey, clearly frustrated at the waist of a day, turned to me and said, “Fuck it.”
“Fuck what?” I asked.
“This,” she pointed to the weather as she began getting undressed.
I looked at her perplexed. “What are you doing?”
“Well if we can’t go to a nude beach to celebrate Nude Day the way it was intended, i saw we bring Nude Day to us,” she explained as she discarded her t-shirt.
“So we are going to just hang around our hotel naked?” I asked.
“Of course not silly,” she answered, tossing her bra on the bed, releasing her big breasts that had always been the envy of most girls we knew, but particularly me. “We will create our own day of fun here.”
“And how are we going to do that?” I questioned, still completely dressed.
Unbuttoning her jeans, my best friend instructed, “Get naked and you will see.”
We had seen each other naked many times so this wasn’t as absurd as you would think, and I shrugged and started getting undressed. There’s one thing about Zoey, she could always make something out of nothing.
Zoey ordered, “Make us some martinis, sexy,” while she began Escort Anadolu Yakası creating our own summer paradise in our hotel room.
Being called sexy, something she had never done before, had a chill go up my spine. I made the martinis from the minibar, and when I turned around she had completely changed everything. The mattresses were on the floor, the lamp had been somehow turned into umbrellas with lights shining down on us like the sun and the TV was playing what I soon realized was porn.
Zoey was lying on a mattress, her sunglasses on, and was watching the TV. Seeing me, she said, pointing to the floor and beach towels, “Beach, check.” Reaching for a drink from my hand, she added, ” Drinks, check.” After taking a sip of the martini I had made for her, she pointed up and said, “Cancer rays, check.”
I laughed. “It is pretty much like we are at the beach.”
She ignored the sarcastic tone and added, pointing to the TV where a pretty blonde in a ponytail was giving a blowjob to a lifeguard on the beach, “Nude beach, check.”
“What is this?” I asked, impressed by both the lifeguard’s big cock and the girl’s ability to easily deep throat it.
“This Ain’t Baywatch,” she shrugged, adding, “how perfect is that?”
“Perfect,” I responded sarcastically, while joining her on the beach.
As we sipped our martinis and watched porn, I couldn’t help but take quick glimpses of my best friend’s perfection. As mentioned already, I had seen her naked many, many times, but never for such an extended time. We spent the next hour watching three sex scenes, polishing off three martinis each as we mocked the horrible acting and discussed plans for the rest of our trip.
A fourth martini in hand, the obligatory lesbian scene arrived. Two lifeguards with big fake tits ended up in the changing room, and seconds later one was between the legs of the other. Although the movie was ridiculous, unrealistic and the moans were as fake as Pamela Anderson’s breasts, my pussy was getting a bit wet and I was worried Zoey would notice.
Zoey, noticing the absurdity of the quick lesbian tryst joked, “I bet we could write a better lesbian sex scene.”
“Well that is another goal on my bucket list, porn writer.”
“What would our scene be about?” she mused.
“A student who gets an A the old fashioned way,” I suggested.
“Or a student who seduces the seemingly prudish librarian.”
“Or the policewoman who pulls over a sexy cheerleader.”
Looking directly into my eyes, she smiled and her tone changed, “Or two lifelong friends who end up realizing one day their mutual lust for each other.”
I froze. Was this another plot idea, or was my best friend hitting on me.
“I noticed you checking me out at the bar,” my best friend revealed.
I stammered, “I-I-I was n-n-not.”
She moved slightly closer to me, her seductive eyes pulling me in. “I think you were.” She paused, moving even closer, “and I kind of liked it.”
I was confused. Was this finally happening like I had dreamed a million times or was she making a lesbian porn scene, either way I was rattled.
My face flushed and I could actually feel my pussy leak a bit at the possibility. I questioned, “You did?”
“Oh yes, I have wanted to kiss you since the moment I first laid eyes in you,” she flirted, her sweet perfume lingering.
I should have known then it was all part of porn writing mockery, as we had met when we were way too young to be thinking of kissing each other, but I was so intoxicated by the idea of being with Zoey that I was lost in lust. I replied, admitting my inner feelings, “I have been in love with you for years.”
“You have,” she smiled warmly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I looked away, scared to admit my insecurities, my fear of rejection, forgetting this was all just a game. “I didn’t want to do anything that would damage our friendship. You are my best friend and I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”
Zoey put her soft hands on my cheeks and made me make eye contact with her. Her eyes so warm, her voice so tender, she said, “There is nothing you could ever do to make me not love you with all my heart.”
My body warmed and seizing the opportunity, as Zoey had pushed me to do so many times in previous relationships but I always balked, I moved forward and kissed Zoey.
I could tell I surprised her as at first she didn’t react. But being aggressive for the first time in my life, I continued soft kisses on her lips. After what was probably only three seconds, which seemed like a million in my insecure brain, Zoey returned my kisses. The kisses were butterfly kisses at first…so tentative as each of us nervously attempted to respond to what was happening. But as the kisses continued, they slowly became longer lip on lip and eventually Zoey parted my lips with her tongue and like a dam that was ready to burst, the passion I had for her all these of years was unleashed. My tongue danced in her mouth, exploring every crevice. I put my hand on her waist and slowly pushed her on the makeshift beach as I continued kissing her, refusing to allow our lips to part. Soft moans ricocheted in each other’s mouth, as both of us got hotter from the passionate embrace. I felt pussy juices slowly dripping out, the reality of the situation bringing me pleasure I had never felt before.
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