My one and only [FF] experience

So, I’ll start with a little backstory. This incident happened a few years ago, I was and still am married. We are approaching our ten year anniversary and an event of this magnitude, naturally, makes you think about your whole journey together. This story took place six years into my marriage and to this day remains one of my biggest secrets that I swore I’d take to my grave. For context, back then, we were having a lot of difficulty setting our differences aside, fighting every single day and generally just questioning it all. I’m not gonna bore you with the details as this is obviously not what this sub is meant for, but after a few months of being frustrated with each other, a period in which our sex lives were pretty much non existant, we decided to take a break to think things over and I moved back in with my parents for a while. This “break” would end up lasting another two months, so overall, I was in a dry spell for nearly half a year.

Once I was alone, so to speak, the first thing I did was establish contact with my old friends, many of which I had kind of drifted apart from in the middle of our stress bubble. I went out a few times, either clubbing or just hanging out, but never had any intention of getting with anyone as that, in my mind, would still be cheating (yes, we were apart, but I am legally married after all). These days were pretty hard as I felt that my life was very much breaking apart, that I had no security and nowhere to go in case my marriage collapsed, and to be honest, I was horny. My libido isn’t that high, but going months without any significant action is enough to put anyone on edge. During all of this, one particular friend helped me the most, my best friend I met in college, which I’ll call Chloe for the sake of this story.

Chloe and I hung out constantly, day and night, and she knew everything I was going through (minus the sex part) and was always there giving me advice, helping me calm down and think things rationally. She was an amazing friend in the way that she never tried to induce me into jumping to any conclusions, like many do, but rather just provided me some company so my mind could stop racing and figure things out by itself. I loved being around her, I loved her warm energy and the way I felt secure next to her. She was also admittedly bi.

About a month into the break, closer to a month and a half, I woke up to a morning call by my husband and we had another fight. What started as a normal conversation quickly spiralled out of control and turned into one of those ugly and pathetic phone yelling competitions. Afterwards I texted Chloe and she suggested I come over and stay the night, so we could watch some movies and chat nonsense. I rushed out of the house, drove the 10-15 minutes to her place and was immediately greeted with a big hug that made me feel much better. She made me coffee and some food (I hadn’t eaten anything at all at that point) and we discussed what had transpired at first, but ultimately decided it was best not to dwell on it and try to enjoy the rest of the day together, take our minds off our troubles. We went shopping. I got a new book, we grabbed a bite to eat and headed to her house by the time it was getting late. Once there, we both took a bath (separately) and settled on the couch watching TV. We started talking about silly things, embarrassing details of our lives and laughing a lot, as usual. I always appreciated her ability to make me laugh out loud quite easily every time we were together. It was rare that anyone saw this side of me. She showed me some of her new dating prospects and it was at this point that the conversation started deviating into sexual territory, which isn’t uncommon, except this time it was different.

After she jokingly mentioned she was going nuts for not “getting any” in over two weeks, I mocked her and said she should try two months instead. She gasped in that comical, cartoony way and asked me if I was serious, which made me realize I shouldn’t have said anything about my sad sex life. I confessed that it was true and that, in fact, I didn’t even remember how or what happened the last time I actually got some. It seemed like I dug my own grave. She was in disbelief, trying not to laugh but also cracking joke after joke after joke. She asked one question, then two, then three, then there were nonstop questions about my condition, which kept getting more and more personal. “How do you cope, why not just meet someone for a one night stand, do you get off by yourself at least” and so on. Then, and I’ll never forget this shift, she looked at me quite deeply, not the least bit of irony on her face, and said: “Do you feel horny at all?”

I was like a deer in headlights. Sometimes a person can say something to you that isn’t directly suggestive, but the way it is said, the feeling of the words or something actives a kind of sixth sense that tells you exactly what they mean. This was pretty much like that. What was a lighthearted and goofy bit of banter got heavy as I was trying to read her face and decipher whether I should respond sincerely or not. I could see there was some emotion showing up in her eyes that I never saw before, so I got a little anxious, hesitated for ages and finally answered. “Of course I do”. The followup question made my heart sink even further down my throat. “Would you think it’s weird if I wanted to help you?”

I remember this moment vividly and I can recall the sensation I had, as those electric feelings were rising up and making me dizzy, as if it was happening right now. The air was super tense, we were both quiet, the TV was on but I couldn’t even hear it anymore. My legs already felt weak and tingly. I asked her what she meant by that, so anxious my voice was trembling. She said we could try doing something casual and inoffensive, that it wouldn’t have to mean anything, just a favor, and if I didn’t like it she’d stop. She also sounded scared, maybe of being rejected, and I was turning into a mess. I hadn’t had any experience with a woman up to this point and no desire to. While I thought Chloe was beautiful, never once did I look at her with second intentions or considered she might want me, but for some reason, at 32 years of age, married, at one of the lowest points in my life, I was curious. I wanted to feel something. My answer was “maybe,” followed by “how?”. We decided we would have a few drinks, just enough to get buzzed, not drunk, to loosen ourselves up, and then she’d take care of the rest. She got the alcohol, we sat down and drank in complete silence until the booze hit us, both, I think, still processing what was about to happen.

And entire half hour or so and a few glasses later I told her I was ready, trying to convince my own self of this. I don’t know why, but even though it made me terrified, and I was purposefully drinking slower to build up more courage, I would not stop. There was a deeper self telling me to finish it. We got up, wordless, and she guided me to the bedroom. I stopped at the door and said I had to use the bathroom really quick, but in reality I was simply panicking and attempting to decide whether I was actually capable of going through with it or not. I always considered myself a conservative person, sure of what I wanted, straight. The feeling was surreal. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw I was pale white, my hands were shaking and I had trouble breathing. It might seem like an overreaction, but imagine being this close to trying something radically new after three decades, that’s thirty years, of having your life supposedly figured out. Still unsure, I looked at my messages with my husband on my phone, sat on the edge of the tub, stared at the wall. I slid a finger down my underwear to confirm my suspicion. The adrenaline had made me extremely wet. My body had already decided for me. With this in mind, I went back to the bedroom, and upon opening the door found Chloe laying there, legs comfortably spread, only with her top and panties on.

I was frozen holding the door handle. The first thing I noticed was that she changed her panties while I was in the bathroom. I saw her getting dressed earlier, after the shower, and these were different. They were pink, delicate, smaller and narrower than the ones from earlier. I could see the sides of her vagina jumping out of them, like a little tease. She put them on for me. She was smiling, and I had no clue on how to proceed. From now on I will attempt to start writing the conversation we had, but since I have only my memory as backup, it won’t be completely faithful to what was said. I’m sorry for that.

Upon realizing I was noticing her new panties, Chloe opened her legs a bit further, inviting me in, before it dawned on her that I was silently freaking out, stuck there like a statue.

Chloe: You ok?

Me: Yeah…

Chloe: You sure?

Me: So how are we doing this?

Chloe: Just come over here.

She motioned me to get in bed and lay next to her. My feet felt like stone with each step, but I made my way to her. Right away I set up a rule that we wouldn’t be kissing, as I irrationally and inexplicably felt this would be crossing some kind of line that had already been decimated by that point. She agreed and sat up as I laid down, scanning my body with her eyes for a few seconds, then caressing my stomach lightly, still smiling. She looked excited. Her fingers went down, down and further down until they reached my pants.

Chloe: Can I take them off?

I nodded, unable to speak. She undid the button on my shorts, removed them and threw them on the floor, then carefully and slowly lifted my panties. I stopped her midway, still panicking, but eventually let it happen. By instinct and shame I crossed my legs once I was exposed, not wanting her to see my state down there, and got scared I would ruin the situation. She kissed my knees gently and asked in the softest, most beautiful voice for me to let her see it. I nearly melted. Her hands pushed my knees apart, which were not resisting anymore, inch by inch.

Chloe: You are so wet. Has anyone ever told you?

Me: What?

Chloe: She is gorgeous. Just beautiful.

Me: Thank you.

Chloe: Are you ready to start?

Me: Yes.

Chloe: Are you sure?

Me: I think so.

She laid back down next to me, putting her right leg on top of my left, our skin touching and pushing me further over the edge. Her skin was soft, smooth. She got close to my ear.

Chloe: Close your eyes now.

Me: Ok.

Chloe: I want you to push everything out for the next few minutes… just focus on being here. Can you do that?

Me: Yes. Tell me what to do.

Chloe: Touch yourself like you normally would. Feel how wet you are. Feel your body.

She held my left hand while my right got busy, and in a blink I began masturbating with my eyes closed. I could hear she was doing the same, but was not yet ready to see it. As things got hotter and heavier she began whispering for me to cum for her, to cum hard, to let it all go. I was closing my fingers ever tighter, and I honestly don’t know how she took it so well, because between my nerves and my desire for sex I could have crushed her hand right there. Then, in a movement that scared me, I felt her lips touch the side of my face.

Me: What are you doing?

Chloe: It’s not the mouth, so it’s ok.

Me: Hold on…

Chloe: Trust me.

I trusted her. She began kissing and biting my ear, something she knew I loved from our previous sexual conversations. I was going crazy, hot, my entire body yearning for her, and suddenly I began to lose every ounce of shame I ever had. There was no fear anymore, no anxiety, just that incredible rush of adrenaline. I pulled my top up to show my tits, and understanding the hint she went for a handful, squeezing them both, playing with my nipples with her fingers and then her tongue. One thing I remember distinctly loving was her hair falling on top of me as she bent her head down to suck on them, and the feeling of her breasts touching my side as she kept kissing my ear. I was ready to cum.

Me: I think I’m getting close.

Chloe: Are you gonna cum for me?

Me: Yes. Just for you. I want it.

Chloe: You wanna see what you did to me?

Me: Please.

She took my hand, which was still firmly gripping hers, and guided it down her stomach all the way between her legs. I cupped her pussy and could feel it was soaked, truly soaked, exactly like mine. I cannot explain this particular connection, when a girl causes this reaction on your body and vice-versa, one of my hands being on my own pussy and the other on hers. It’s unique. I would never have imagined it feels so good. Knowing I made her get that way was an insane thrill. I slid my fingers up and down, feeling her wetness as she squeezed my tits and kissed my ear, neck and cheeks. And then finally, our legs intertwined, cupping her pussy, fully exposed, in another woman’s bed, I came my most intense orgasm to date. The first one, that is.

She gave me multiple orgasms that night. We joked about that being the longest sex both of us had in our lives. We started around 11PM and between cuddling, talking and fucking we fell asleep close to 6AM. Every time we restarted she explored a little more of my body until she’d known every inch of me, and after a while, being that this was probably my only chance in life to experiment, I also did everything I could possibly be curious of doing. I remember this as being my most intimate, erotic and unforgettable experience. Unfortunately, for anyone curious, I choose to preserve the rest of the details in a way to keep the special meaning they have for me, and also because my post is already too long and I fear I might be boring you to death. All I can say is that, at the end of the night and the beginning of the early hours of the next morning, before we fell asleep hugging one another, we exchanged some very sweet and sincere words about the memories we had together. She said she’d be all in for me if I were to abandon my wedding. She wanted me to keep exploring this, and in an unexpected heartbreak she confessed feeling, since our college days, that she might’ve been in love with me. I could not risk changing my entire life at that particular instant and I told her that, which she understood. What she never knew is that I also felt all those things. I really wanted to repeat it forever. I just didn’t say it.

The morning after was normal, like nothing ever happened, and we didn’t talk about it then nor ever at all. It really ended up being just a favor. We hung out like friends a few more times but I didn’t sleep over anymore, fearing I wouldn’t be able to control myself, and a while later I went back to my husband and we drifted apart once more. We exchanged a few messages on Facebook and such since this, my last one being to congratulate her on moving in with her new SO, but we are kind of just acquaintances now. I wish I could say this experience didn’t mark me hugely in some way, but as you can probably tell, it brings out all kinds of feelings in me. As I was typing it out I got anxious again, excited, needed to get off desperately and now I find myself a bit teary eyed. I loved her more than anything that night. She made me realize I am probably bi as well, but that makes no difference in my life currently. I am happy with how everything turned out, but I will never allow myself to forget what we had together.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/chuve1/my_one_and_only_ff_experience