Ashley

We were just neighbors. We lived next door to each other in identical townhouses in sunny Arizona. Each townhouse had a small, ten-foot by ten-foot concrete pad at ground level behind the building. The developer called it a patio but it was barely large enough for a small table, two chairs, a propane gas grill and a single chaise lounge.

I was in my late twenties and single. I'd managed to scrape enough money together to buy the townhouse and qualify for the overly large mortgage. It left little disposable income for fun and games and that's why I spent so much time at home sitting on my patio reading novels almost as fast as James Patterson could publish them.

I worked primarily at home, driving once a week into the office in Prescott. The weather was almost perfect year-round and I spent time on my patio before work in the morning, during my lunch break and after work in the evening.

My neighbor was an attractive woman about the same age as I was. We moved in on the same weekend and we helped each other carry items during the weekend. We connected at the curb in front of the townhomes when we were both at our rented UHaul trucks at the same time.

"Hi, neighbor," I said as I approached her and held out my hand in greeting. "Gary," I added.

She turned to face me as I approached and broke into a wide smile. "Ashley," she responded and we shook hands. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers. Her hair was up in a loose knot on the top of her head with wisps escaping in every direction. She was also wearing a ring on her left hand but I didn't see another soul that could have been her partner.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Looks like we're going to be neighbors."

"It certainly does," Ashley responded.

We worked together for the rest of the day and, using our towed cars, returned the rented trucks. Sunday,, we helped each other arrange our meager belongings throughout our new homes. Sunday evening, I was lounging on my patio, reading a Lee Child novel and drinking beer when Ashley came out on her patio with its lone lounge chair. She settled on her chaise on her back in the late day sun with her sunglasses over her eyes and her hair hanging loose.

"Tired?" I asked from about nine feet away.

"Exhausted," Ashley admitted. "The sun feels wonderful."

That was the pattern for the rest of the summer. In the late afternoons and early evenings, I would sit on my patio, reading and Ashley would lie sunning on her patio. We spoke frequently and, to my regret, we developed a pervasive friendship. I would have preferred a different kind of relationship but I felt fortunate to have her as a friend.

Our conversations covered a broad spectrum of topics including sex. We were quite open with each other about our infrequent partners and experiences. I took the opportunity to ask about the ring she was wearing on her left hand.

"Oh, this," she said, turning the ring with the fingers of her right hand. "What makes you ask?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you were married but I've never seen anyone who might be your partner," I confessed.

"I'm not married," Ashley confirmed. "I wear this ring for two reasons. First, I was almost married but he was killed in an accident three weeks before the wedding. Second, the ring provides me some protection when I'm approached by some men with that lecherous look in their eyes."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," Ashley said. "It was a long time ago. I've been thinking of taking off the ring for a while." She twisted the ring, slid it off her finger and placed it on the table between us. "There," she said.

"Are you sure you wanted me to know that?" I asked.

"That I'm not married?" she asked.

"You never know," I said. "I might be one of those men with that lecherous look in their eyes."

"I've looked into your eyes," Ashley said. "You're safe."

"That stung," I thought.

Throughout the heat of the summer, Ashley's sunbathing outfit morphed from tee shirt and shorts, through one piece bathing suits to two-piece bikinis. The cooler weather of late fall and winter limited our patio lounging but we began to share meals and spent many evenings watching movies.

Spring brought higher temperatures and more patio time. By that time, our friendship was solidly established. We had numerous conversations about personal likes and dislikes, pleasures and woes. We discussed topics rarely shared between friends of either sex and, sometimes even between married couples, without embarrassment or self-consciousness.

By early summer, the temperatures had risen to the point that Ashley was again wearing bikini suits while she basked in the sun. Within a week, she had begun to wear just a string bikini. Our friendship was such that her lack of clothing had no effect on my libido although, with any other woman, I'd have a visible and uncomfortable reaction.

A few days later, Ashley was lying on her stomach in yet another almost not there bikini when she, without looking at me, asked, "Gary, does my sunbathing bother you?"

"Not at all," I responded wondering where she was heading with this conversation. "You're probably my best friend and you know that whatever makes you happy makes me happy as well."

"You know that I love the sun and I'd really like to get a complete tan without any lines or pale spaces. Would you mind if I sunbathed in the nude?"

My heart fluttered and my penis came to attention, all responses inappropriate given the nature of our relationship. "Of course not," I told her. "If sunbathing naked is what you want then I'd be glad to go inside to preserve your modesty and reputation."

Ashley laughed. "Don't be silly," she said. "Our relationship is secure and a little nudity will not have an undesirable effect on it."

"Maybe not our relationship," I quipped.

Ashley laughed again. "I get it. You're a man and any naked woman, even me, is going to have a physical reaction. I think we can deal with it and, given time, the problem with take care of itself."

"You're probably right," I agreed.

"Okay, then. Would you mind coming over here and untying my suit?" Ashley asked.

With weakened legs, I moved over to her patio next to her chaise, bent over and untied the strings of her bikini top and laid the strings alongside her. "My bottoms too," Ashley instructed.

I untied the sides of her suit, placed the strings on the chaise and pulled the middle string from between her cheeks and let it fall between her legs.

"There's suntan lotion on the table next to me," said Ashley. "Could you rub some on me where the strings were?"

I rubbed lotion on her back and her hips where the strings were. "Don't forget the center string," reminded Ashley.

I used one finger to put lotion between her cheeks and returned unsteadily to my own patio and chaise.

"Thanks," said Ashley.

I arranged my chair so I could watch Ashley and wondered what my role might be when she turned over.

My curiosity was settled about a half hour later when Ashley turned over. She removed the rest of her suit and rubbed lotion on the pale places before she lay back on the chaise and closed her eyes.

Her breasts were incredible. They lay on her chest but without spreading out. They remained mounded on her body with her nipples pointing at the sky. She had a small patch of pubic hair that seemed more natural than manicured with dark, curly hair.

I focused on her body for about five minutes before I excused myself and went inside my home to relieve the intense pressure building in my loins.

That afternoon changed Ashley's clothing habits drastically. She began to live at home naked all the time. I got to admire her body most afternoons on the patio. We discussed her penchant to live "au naturel." She maintained that living nude was healthy both physically and emotionally and she encouraged me to try it. We discussed the pros and cons almost every time we were together until, one evening, when Ashley invited me to dinner at her place, she issued an ultimatum. Before we sat at the table, Ashley naked as usual, said, "Drop the duds."

"What?" I questioned.

"Drop the duds," she said. "Get naked or you don't eat."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.

I'm serious," insisted Ashley. "As serious as an unexpected pregnancy. Get naked."

"Why?" I asked.

"You've seen me naked hundreds of times and you've never taken the hint. I'm tired of waiting, so, get naked and let me see what you've got."

A dozen thoughts went through my mind. Was Ashley's insistence in me getting naked prelude to something else? Maybe sex? On the other hand, me getting naked was guaranteed to produce a potentially embarrassing reaction. "Fuck it," I thought and began to take off my clothes.

I paused when I got to my tented boxer shorts. "I'm waiting," said Ashley.

"I'm concerned that you might misinterpret my intensions toward you," I confessed.

"You mean that your erection might convince me you'd like to fuck me," suggested Ashley.

"You know that's not what I want but my body is betraying me," I pleaded.

"You don't want to fuck me?" asked Ashley.

"That's not what I said," I countered.

"So, you do want to fuck me?" asked Ashley.

"Ashley," I pleaded. "Under any other circumstances the answer would be yes but I value our friendship too much."

"Ahhh," cooed Ashley. "That's so sweet. Now drop the shorts."

I did as she asked. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked.

I looked down at my genitals. "Actually, it's quite hard," I quipped.

Ashley laughed. "Sit down and let's eat," she ordered. "Give it time to normalize where I can't see it."

After dinner, I relaxed and we watched a movie in her living room. After the movie, Ashley gave me a tiny kiss on the cheek and I went home out the back and across both patios, naked and carrying my clothing.

As the summer waned and cooler air became common, life on the patios became uncomfortable and we moved our activities inside. Our relationship became more personal. We touched each other more often and more emotionally. We cuddled on the sofa while watching a movie and, one Saturday night, when the wind was whistling through the trees and the lights were blinking, Ashley curled up tight to me and put my arm around her and on her breast. Our relationship expanded again. Somehow, we were able to share our bodies without the sexual connotations that usually accompanied it.

With all the time we spent together, I never inquired how she earned her income. It just didn't seem important.

We dressed whenever we left our town homes. We went to dinner one or two times a week, fully dressed. On a Thursday in January, we were sharing an oversized Chinese dinner in our favorite Asian restaurant when a woman about Ashley's age approached. "Ash," she said. "I haven't seen you around lately. Where have you been?"

Ashley told her to sit down and introduced us. "Gary," she said. "Meet Lisa." We shook hands and Lisa sat.

For the next forty-five minutes I listened to Lisa and Ashley talk about a dozen topics I never knew Ashley was interested in. Several times, Lisa looked in my direction as if she wanted to include me in the conversation, or more. One comment from Lisa caught my attention. Lisa said, "I haven't caught you live lately."

Ashley quickly changed the subject but the comment stuck with me.

Later, Ashley and I were curled up on her sofa looking for a movie to watch. "Gary," she said. "You've never asked me how I earn money."

"I never thought it was important," I told her. "I just assumed it was something like an inheritance or a trust and I didn't want to pry."

"Well, it's neither of those," said Ashley.

"I suppose you want to tell me now," I suggested.

"It might be better if I showed you," said Ashley. "Come with me."

Ashley led me to her bedroom. Inside was a king-sized bed with dozens of pillows, a huge video screen on the opposite wall, a stand with a laptop computer and what looked like three video cameras. "Nice," I commented. "What did you want to show me?"

"This is where I work," said Ashley.

"No desk or phone?" I asked innocently.

"No. No desk or phone. Just the bed and the video cameras," explained Ashley.

I must have looked confused. "I'm a cam girl," admitted Ashley.

"A cam girl?" I repeated.

"A webcam model," Ashley expanded her explanation.

"You mean thousands of horny men have seen you naked on the internet?" I asked.

"Sometimes," admitted Ashley. "If they pay enough and it's not only men."

"I didn't have a clue," I confessed.

"I know that and I wasn't anxious to tell you except that Lisa blew my cover," said Ashley.

I looked carefully at the equipment in the room. "Wow," I said.

"Do you have a problem with my line of work?" Ashley asked.

"I don't. Should I?" I asked.

"I was concerned that you might make certain assumptions about what I did. Before you think about it, I don't have sex with any of my viewers. I do strip off my clothes and do things with my body that they ask me to do. I get money to do what they ask. The greater the ask, the more the money. It adds up to over six figures a year," informed Ashley.

"Damn. That's more than I make. Is there a market for male performers?" I asked.

Ashley laughed. "I've never encountered a man online except as a partner with a woman," she informed me. "Although there's probably a market among gay men."

"So," I started. "This is why you enjoy living naked so much?"

"Almost," Ashley replied. "Getting naked so often was an influence on my lifestyle. However, it does create an unusual dichotomy. I have to get dressed to go to work so I can undress."

"That's not unusual," I commented. "I get dressed to go to work."

"The difference is, you're already dressed, so going to work isn't an impact on your preferred lifestyle," Ashley responded.

I looked at my state of undress. "At least it didn't used to," I quipped.

Ashley laughed again. "You have no idea how relieved I am that you know now and you don't hate me for it."

"Ashley, I could never hate you for how you support yourself, with the possible exception of assassin," I told her.

Ashley laughed again. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's go watch a movie," she suggested.

In spite of what I had told Ashley, her choice of career did bother me. I couldn't understand how, with dozens, maybe hundreds of horny men, paying her to undress and do erotic things with her body couldn't have a similar effect on Ashley herself. How could doing things to make men pleasure themselves not have an emotional and physical effect on her?

I did a little research. Anonymously, I searched the internet until I found a site that featured Lisa's picture and that led to me Ashley's picture. She was using an alias and I would not have identified her by her profile alone. I tuned in during one of her performances. I watched passively as the little counter at the bottom of the screen incremented as other viewers pledged "tokens" to Ashley's account to entice her to do things I'd never consider asking any woman to do. I signed off when her counter reached 4000 tokens and she consented to be naked. A little research revealed that 4000 tokens were about $400 and I assumed the counter had continued to increment after I left the site.

Watching Ashley online had a very different effect on me than spending time with her naked. I was physically aroused but not to the point of self-help. I could only imagine the effect she was having on the men who pledged the 4000 tokens.

I put the whole thing out of my mind and continued my more satisfying relationship with Ashley without comment.

The following Tuesday, Ashley and I were cuddling after dinner in front of the television. "Gary," opened Ashley. "Are you okay? You've seemed pensive lately. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "It's just that I've had a lot to think about lately."

"Work?" asked Ashley.

"No. Work's fine," I told her.

"Then us?" asked Ashley.

When I didn't respond, she continued. "It's my profession, isn't it?"

"Ashley," I hesitated. "We've always had an amazing ability to talk with each other but I'm finding what I'm thinking very difficult right now."

"Give it a try. I'm here to listen, not judge," soothed Ashley.

I turned off the television. "Ashley, I do not judge you. You're a beautiful woman and you've managed to create a profession for yourself that seems both satisfying and lucrative. I applaud your initiative. I'm generally not a consumer of the services you offer. I can understand how you can affect men and entice them to pay just to watch you but I don't understand how you can do that without having some effect on yourself."

"You watched, didn't you?" asked Ashley.

"I did," I admitted. "And I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," said Ashley. "I expected you to try to find me. I just didn't anticipate the effect it might have on you."

I started to say something. Ashley stopped me. "Let me finish. Gary, that wasn't me you saw on the internet. It was Mystique. We are not the same person. Except that her earnings find their way into my bank account, we live separate lives. If Mystique has a physical reaction to the things she does online that causes voyeurs to spend their money, and sometimes she does, it never transfers to me, Ashley. Mystique appears when the lights go on and she disappears when the lights go out. I'm not a dual personality. I'm an actress. I'm playing a role. When the act is over, I'm done and Ashley lives her life and spends the money."

"Thanks," I said. "That helps."

"I'm curious," said Ashley. "Did Mystique have an effect on you?"

"Some," I admitted. "But Ashley is better."

"Ohh," whispered Ashley. "I didn't expect that."

We sat in the darkened room for several minutes without talking until Ashley asked, "Gary, are you having sex with anyone?"

"On occasion," I told her.

"How is it?" asked Ashley.

"It is what it is," I told her. "Nothing outstanding."

"What did you think about Lisa?" asked Ashley.

"I didn't watch her," I confessed.

"But you did meet her at the restaurant," countered Ashley. "What did you think?"

"She seems like a nice person," I hedged.

"Physically?" Ashley pressed.

"She's very attractive," I admitted.

"Would you like to fuck her?" Ashley asked.

"What?"

"Gary. This is us. We talk. Don't bury your head in the sand now. Would you like to fuck Lisa?"

"Under different circumstances, probably, but not under the present circumstances," I told Ashley.

"Explain," demanded Ashley.

"I don't know," I managed to stutter. "I guess it would feel like cheating."

"Cheating?" questioned Ashley. "Who?"

"Us," I said simply.

"Wow!" said Ashley. "You're full of surprises tonight. We don't have that kind of relationship."

"I know that," I admitted.

"But you'd like to?" stated Ashley.

"I've thought about it," I confessed.

We sat for several minutes in the darkened room again. Ashley stood up. "Gary, please forgive me. I need to go home. I have a lot of things to process."

I sat in the darkened room until I fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night and went to bed. In the morning, I showered, dressed, had a quick breakfast and drove into the city for my day in the office.

When I got home a little after six pm, Ashley was working in my kitchen. She was barefoot, her hair was up in a tight curl, her makeup was light, her lips glowing and she was dressed in a pale blue negligee and a calf length, almost transparent robe. "Get comfortable. Dinner's almost ready," she said in greeting.

I hung up my suit jacket and removed my tie before returning to the kitchen. "What's the occasion?" I asked.

"Dinner and ..." replied Ashley. "Have a seat."

Dinner was baked salmon with a mayonnaise and parmesan coating, broccoli, mashed potatoes and white wine. After dinner, we topped off our wine glasses and headed for the living room. Ashley had me sit on the sofa and she sat on my lap.

"Does me sitting on your lap bother you?" she asked.

"It doesn't bother me," I told her. "However, it is having an effect on me that you'll notice in a moment."

Ashley wiggled her ass in my lap. "Ashley," I cried. "That doesn't make things better."

"I thought it did," Ashley insisted. She wiggled her ass again.

"Ashley," I complained. "We've never been in this position before and if you continue to do that, we're probably end up in another position we've never been in before."

Ashley wiggled her ass again. "Gary," she said. "Last night I asked you about Lisa but I've never asked you about me."

"You?"

"Yes, me," insisted Ashley. "Would you like to fuck me?"

"Ashley, you're sitting on my lap wearing more clothes than I've seen you wear in a long time, clothes that are begging to be removed, and wiggling your ass against what is an erection that you obviously caused on purpose and you ask if I want to fuck you. I don't need to answer that question directly. However, there is one thing, only one, that I'm concerned will spoil the moment."

"Okay," said Ashley. "I don't want to spoil the moment." She wiggled her ass again. "Please share your concern."

"Ashley," I continued. "We have a special relationship. A relationship that rarely exists between friends of the same sex, let alone the opposite sex. I love that relationship. I honor that relationship. I respect that relationship. It's one of my most valuable possessions and I don't ever want to do anything to damage it in any way."

Ashley thought for a moment. "Then honor me," she said. "Don't fuck me. Make love to me."

She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. Her kiss was something beyond description. We'd never kissed before. Not like this. I'd never kissed anyone else like this. My mind went blank, overcome with the tsunami of emotion that spread from my lips throughout my body. I put my arm around her neck and held her tightly against me as we kissed. I wasn't about to let her escape soon.

Ashley put her arm around my neck with the same intensity. Our kiss lingered and intensified, swirling around as our mouths opened and our tongues sought comfort inside. Her hand pressed against my chest and slid down until it rested on and then closed around my erection between our bodies and inside my trousers. My free hand slid up her body until it rested on and then closed around her breast.

Kissing Ashley was amazing but breathing was mandatory. We breathed each other's air while the concentration of carbon dioxide increased until breathing oxygenated air was necessary. We clung together, face to face and gasping for air. Ashley pushed her breast against my hand. "That feels wonderful," she said.

I cupped my hand and squeezed her breast gently again. "Don't stop that," she gushed while pushing her ass against my erection and shifting her hips suggestively.

"Ashley," I managed to say. "Do you really want me to make love to you?"

"I've never wanted anything more," she told me. "I want you inside me. I want to feel your heat fill me."

Ashley got up from my lap and removed her robe, negligee and panties. Then she leaned over me and began to unbuckle my belt. Seconds later, we were both naked and Ashley was back on my lap, kissing me and wiggling her ass on my painfully hard erection.

I struggled to talk coherently. "Ashley, not here," I whispered.

"Just a little bit," Ashley pleaded.

"Please," I continued. "Not here. This is too important, too emotional, too consequential to be so casual. I want to make proper love to you. I want both of us to remember this night as something fundamental to our relationship. Something bigger than either of us alone."

"Then where?" asked Ashley.

"The bedroom," I suggested.

Ashley got off my lap and held out her hand to help me up. Her energy was buoyant and infectious. On the way she began to giggle. "What?" I asked.

"I can't help it," she confessed. "You look silly walking with that protuberance bouncing in the air in front of you."

"That's because I can't see your equivalent response to what's about to happen," I countered.

"But I can feel it," admitted Ashley bashfully. "It's running down the inside of my thighs."

I stopped. "What?" asked Ashley.

"Show me," I said.

Ashley blushed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said and walked toward the bedroom.

By the time I got to the bedroom, Ashley was pulling down the spread, blanket and top sheet. She climbed onto the bed, laid down, spread her arms and legs and said, "Make love to me."

"Oh," I said as I climbed into the bed. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Not nearly as much as I am," said Ashley.

In spite of the manner in which Ashley was positioned, I was not about to rush. It had taken almost two years to reach this position. Even though I hadn't been wishing for it, I wasn't about to allow it to be ordinary. We were a special couple and making love had to be just as special. Instead of leaping between her legs and ravishing her, I leaned over her, put my hand on her tummy and kissed her.

Ashley kissed me back. She put her arms around my neck and held me tight while her mouth opened and her tongue explored my lips. My mouth opened and our tongues waltzed and twisted another dance together. When she tired of waiting for my hand on her stomach to move, she took one hand, placed it over my hand and slid my hand up her body until it rested on her breast. She held my hand there until I squeezed her breast and she was sure I wasn't going to remove it.

Ashley put her hand back around my neck, her kiss intensified and she moaned into my mouth. My thumb found her nipple. Her moan intensified further and her tongue plunged deep into my mouth seeking my tonsils. I was unconscious with lust for this woman, my erection hard to the point of pain and rubbing against her side but I was determined to make this moment memorable.

I slid my hand from her breast, down over her navel and toward her genitals. Ashley's hips lifted off the bed in anticipation. My fingers roamed through her pubic hair and settled between her legs. I slid a finger between her hot, slimy and very welcoming labia. Her hips began to pump up and down against my finger until it slid inside her.

Ashley almost screamed into my mouth and her hips pushed hard against my hand and fingers. I pushed back just as hard. "Please. Please," she moaned into my mouth. I removed my hand from her vagina. "No. No," Ashley moaned.

I positioned my body between her legs and ran the head of my erection between her labia. "Yes. Yes," Ashley moaned loudly. She put her hands around my hips and on my ass as far as she could reach and pulled me toward her. "Pleeeez," she cried.

I slid my erection slowly inside her, resisting the pull of her hands and the push of her hips as best as I could. I wanted to prolong and enjoy the feeling of my shaft pushing against the soft folds of her passage as I slid inside her. When I reached my limit, I could feel her cervix pushing against the head of my erection and the bristle of her pubic hair enmeshed with mine.

Her hips never stopped reciprocating against me. I began to reciprocate in sync with her. I plunged in and out of her. Her legs came up alongside me and she moved her hands to hold her legs behind her knees. We pounded our bodies together in a manner I'd never imagined. The whole scene was more energetic, forceful and erotic than I thought possible.

Suddenly, Ashley's body became rigid. She let go of her legs. Her legs shot straight out alongside me, her hands pushed against the bed and her hips rose off the bed. She began to tremble. Her legs wrapped around my hips and she screamed, "Oh, God. Oh, God." Her vagina pulsed against my erection and I could feel the heat of her ejaculate flowing onto my testicles.

I came inside her as intensely as I could remember. Pulsing six or eight times before I was spent.

There are a few times in my life when something unexpected and impossible happened. I lay atop Ashley, supporting myself on my arms, as we recovered and slowly sliding my stubborn erection back and forth inside her. Ashley's eyes opened wide. "More?" she whispered.

"It appears so," I responded.

"I don't know if I can do that again," questioned Ashley.

"We don't have to," I told her as I started to slide out of her.

"No. Don't stop," she insisted. She pulled me tightly against her and her legs squeezed my hips. "I didn't say I didn't want to try," she laughed.

I laughed with her. "That was really something, wasn't it?"

"You have no idea," Ashley said. "Don't stop doing what you're doing. You could keep it up all night."

"Pun intended?" I asked.

Ashley laughed again. "Unintended but honest."

That night was the last night either one of us slept alone. Our friendship became even stronger and our love for each other grew exponentially. When her lease expired, She moved in with me. Ashley retired from show business and together, we dismantled the cameras and lights in her bedroom. She continued to perform but with an audience of one.

Ashley's relationship with Lisa changed from co-workers to just friends and Lisa was the maid of honor at our wedding five months later.

Two exhausting days after the wedding, Ashley and I were happily wrapped in each other arms at a Cabin in the mountains when she told me there was still one issue we needed to resolve.

"What's that?" I asked in my post coital stupor.

"Lisa wants to know if you still want to fuck her," she said.