Ashley's letters had grown increasingly morose in the last two months. She had once expressed nothing but affection and admiration for Richard. A year ago, he had swept her from her feet and brought her a level of joy and contentment she had never felt before, but something had gone wrong. Her writings were now full of loneliness. Ashley spent nearly her whole day in the company of others but she felt entirely isolated. I did my best to comfort her in my own letters. I told her of my adventures, I tried to distract her with stories of local politics.
Her last letter had arrived just yesterday. In it she said she would be in the district sometime in the coming month and she intended to stop in and see me. The thought of seeing Ashley left me awash in a mix of joy and apprehension. Ashley's presence always brought a smile to my face and she could brighten my darkest day but she also brought with her a fear that rested deep in my stomach. For years she and I had been close friends, and I had gained her trust to a level that few others had. My attraction to Ashley threatened to undo the relationship I had built with her. Her position itself would never allow the two of us to be any more than close friends. All else aside, whatever tiny fragment of hope remained within me been had crushed by her marriage to Richard. She would see any indication of my feelings for her as a deep betrayal.
The day had been long. I had returned home to prematurely darkening skies and a strong, cold wind from the east. Summer had fled the district seemingly in a panic leaving autumn to fill the void left behind. I started a small fire in my cobbled fireplace and sat in my chair with an old book and a hunk of cheese. I had fallen asleep when I heard the knock at my door. The rain had stated then, beating a steady rhythm against the roof and walls. Ashley stood at my door. Her auburn hair was tied in a large bun, unleashed it would reach her waist. She wore a knee length woolen coat picked, as many of her clothes were, to disguise her figure. Her dark, thick lips were a contrast to her otherwise pale, thin face. Her eyes were red, she had been crying.
"Hello," she said in a low whisper reaching out her arms. She smelled faintly of cherry blossom, her skin was smooth and cool against my cheek. There had always been a cruelty in how physically intimate Ashley and I could be while never crossing beyond friendship. Too soon our embrace broke. I showed her in giving her my seat by the fire. I set her leather valise just inside the door. Under her coat Ashley wore a deep ochre travelling dress, loose at the waist, well-fitted at the shoulders.
We spent the next two hours deep in conversation. We spoke about friends, politics, the weather, any topic aside from whatever was truly burdening her. It was well after midnight when our discussion finally began to lose momentum. I begged her to stay the night. Courtesy aside, it would be unsafe for her to travel this late. She agreed and I offered her the use of my bed. My small apartment left only room for me to return to my chair.
It was a few hours later when I awoke to Ashley's hand gently pressing into my shoulder. Again she had been crying. Her face was now a soft amber lit by the dying candle on the table next to my chair. Her cheeks had just a hint of rose, her hair was down. She now wore a knee-length ivory shift which failed to hide her shape as fully as she preferred. The silhouette of each of her breasts was outlined by shadow. "My curse," she had once called them. I doubt she knew then how close to the truth that sentiment was. Catching my own eyes lingering on her chest, hopefully before she did, I stood and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Her cheek rested on my shoulder as I held her. I rubbed her back gently, it was a ritual we had developed over the years. From a young age Ashley had been plagued with pain in her shoulders and upper back due in part, no doubt, to her curse. Soon she turned and sat on the antique stool I kept in front of my chair. I kneaded her shoulders. Normally we would talk as I tried to ease her pain tonight something was troubling her in a way I had never seen before. She didn’t speak a single word.
I took my hands from Ashley for just a moment only to realize how cold the room had become. The fire had died and the storm outside had only worsened through the night. The wind filled the room with incessant howling and whistling. Flashes of lighting were soon followed by sharp cracks of thunder. Ashley stood and turned to face me.
My eyes followed the bottom hem of her shift as she slowly raised it. Her pale thighs gave way to a deep shadow where her legs met crowned by tuft of deep chestnut hair. Her body narrowed at her waist only to rapidly widen soon after. Ashley’s breasts rested on her chest threatening the line separating beauty and obscenity. Together they occupied a full third of her chest, the left just larger than the right. Her large nipples were centered in oversized pools of dark skin the color of her lips.
Lowering her arms she dropped the shift to the floor. There she stood before me: entirely naked but for the small styled hammer on a silver chain hanging from her neck. She turned and walked slowly back into my bedroom.
I stood to follow. Ashley laid on my bed her back to me. The hearth in my parlor had gone dark but the bedroom’s fireplace still burned nonetheless the room was like ice. I sat next to her on the far side of the bed. I looked at her trying to solve the mystery of her silence. The chill of the room still crept through me. I walked to the fireplace and wrung my hands before it to no avail. The only way I could bring heat to myself was to touch Ashley’s skin. I curled in along side her. Soon though the contact of my arms against her waist and my face against the back of her neck proved insufficient. The irony of removing clothing in a quest for warmth was not lost on me as I stripped myself. I clutched my body against hers, wrapping my arms around her waist. At last I began to feel warm again, not a true feeling of comfort but at least a relief of suffering.
Ashley turned to face me and then sat up, straddling me. Her enormous breasts swayed back and forth for the effort. My own curse began to grow. She leaned forward and kissed my neck, I felt her nipples press into my chest and the smell of her hair stirred in my nose. A hand reached and gently stroked and slid me along the edge of her shadow. She spent a few moments with her head buried in my neck before rolling back to her side. Her hand again provided guidance.
Slowly I pressed myself into her. The more deeply I penetrated her the more fully her unnatural warmth filled me. A wince and a hand placed on my thigh let me know I had pressed too far. Mindful of the limit she had set I began a careful rhythm. The storm outside was worsening, the violent wind was lashing rain against the building and crashes of thunder became more frequent. Ashley’s breath quickened with the stom. I tightened my hold on her, she placed my right hand on her chest to control the movement of her breasts. Soon her heat overcame me and with a flash of lightning I spilled a decade of lust and want within her.
Outside the storm began to calm. We laid next to each other and soon Ashley was asleep. I turned the small silver hammer over in my hand. It was done.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2hov3e/an_old_friend_visits_mf_first_person
It was a good story but I have a feeling that I have missed something that was **too** subtly implied.