Amber and Ginny's Best Day

Our family has always been quite close, even when you considered my older sister Julie, because she was twat, and objected to most things we did. My Mother made the excuse she was conservative. Our parents encouraged Julie and myself to be comfortable with our bodies, so nudity on the second floor of out home was encouraged. Mom was encouraging and complimentary our of appearance and took great care explaining everything about sex in detail. Seeing my parents shower and walk to their bedroom without towels was an everyday occurrence. We rarely bothered shutting doors, and it wasn't unusual to see Mom or Dad, occasionally use the toilet. The same was true of me but Julie remained the exception. The thing I most remember about summers was spending time with my friend Ginny, and the Summer Exception; skinny dipping in the pool and sunbathing nude was allowed.

My name is Amber and I'm currently in my second year of college. I'm 5'6", with blonde-brown hair. I think I'm cute, though not pretty, have C-sized breasts with always erect nipples, which has got me plenty of positive compliments and I started shaving my pubes this summer. When I got accepted at the local Community college, our family's habits changed completely, as my parents declared the whole house upstairs and down, clothing optional. Of course, there were now only three of us as Julie moved to another state for work.

"Your a woman now," my Mom said to me, one day. At that moment I didn't care because I thought what's really changed? Well, things did appear different the first time I saw my Dad walk into the kitchen, nude. Suddenly not being in the context of bedrooms or bathroom it was unexpected. Weirdly, I couldn't take my eyes off his thick dick. I had never really noticed but he was an attractive man.

The first year of college, I had several relationships, most of which lasted just a few months. I'd share my breakup stories with my Mom and her remedy was always to lie in her bed and talk it out. Since we were in their bedroom, we were naked during our time together where she comforted and cared for my feelings. I never found this behavior odd, it was just Mom being Mom. She was very earthy and nurturing and felt that skin to skin contact was very important. I'd rest my head on her boobs and hold her tight as I told her my feelings, which always made me feel better. Dad knew to give us time and occupy himself with other chores.

My Dad was a wonderful caring father. He was firm with us but never harsh and he always took the time to share his knowledge and experience. Dad was tall, very handsome, and worked in sales for a tech company, so earned the family a comfortable income. We still lived in a modest house in a nice neighborhood of San Francisco. Even when I saw Dad without clothes, it never felt awkward because he was always so approachable and made it seem the most natural thing. I know he was well-endowed, because Mom regularly mentioned it, in our conversations. It was also normal for Dad and the rest of the family to hug when we were naked but Dad stopped doing when I got older. One day, I was very upset and asked him why he wasn't hugging me. He explained that it was up to me whether I wanted a hugs or be touched. He respected my personal space and wanted me to decide. I really missed Dad's attention, especially when he would gently pat, then squeeze my bottom. I cried a lot that day, feeling so sad something had changed and told him I still needed and wanted his hugs, and to never stop doing it. He assured me, he would always be there for me.

"Promise me you'll still pat my bottom because then I know I'm okay," I insisted.

Ginny Callahan has been my best friends since we were little kids. She lives just two blocks from me, and even though we're in college, we still hang out most weekends in the summer. She knows everything about my family as we have had many sleepovers over the years. She's completely accepting of my family's laid-back clothing attitude, so it was surprising when she joined in, on her own, last year. She was home on break and she was in my room trying on clothes. We're similar in size, including our boobs but Ginny has fair skin, red hair, and a flaming red thick bush. One afternoon, while in my room, undressed, my dad returned from work. He poked his head in to say hello. Ginny unfazed by male eyes, stood in the middle of the room naked and said,

"Hello, Mr. Harrison, great to see you." Dad left and Ginny said, "Great to see you, what am I stupid? He'll literally think I'm a dork." Several minutes later, true to form, my Dad was standing at my doorway without clothes of his own.

"Hey, I'm going to take a shower. If you need the bathroom, use the one downstairs, okay?" he said nonchalantly. Ginny was swooning.

When he left, she remarked, "Your Dad is so dreamy. You're lucky both your parents are so laid-back. I think I'm in love with his dick. Wow, is it so thick. I'll bet your Mom love it?"

"Gees, Ginny, I suppose," I replied, a little scandalized by what she was saying.

Still, subconsciously I must have taken it in because later that night, I was awake feeling a sense of warmth and appreciation for my family. Our home was filled with caring and concern for everyone. Ginny's family was perfectly normal from the outside, Mom, her Dad, Ginny, two brothers, a dog but there was always a constant tension. You didn't want to "stir the pot" at her house or say or do anything wrong. I'd often spend nights at Ginny's, squeezing into a twin bed with her and sharing secrets but the encounters with her parents seemed performative. Now that I was older, it was so obvious.

The following afternoon, Ginny and I were lounging in my backyard on lawn chairs, wearing sunglasses and unzipped denim shorts. My Mom sipped iced tea and occasionally popped outside to check the laundry line, as well as, us.

"Need anything, girls?" Ginny smiled back, as she sunbathed topless slathered in SPF 50. I couldn't figure out why Mom was hovering so much.

"I wish my Mom was more like yours," Ginny complained, folding her arms behind her head so her creamy boobs faced directly into the sunlight. "The only time she lets loose is after, like, three vodka and OJs, and then only to tell some tragic story about her childhood."

I shrugged. "Your Mom isn't so bad. At least you don't have to worry about your neighbors complaining that I'm sunning my lady bits in the backyard. Remember that one guy?" Our across-the-fence neighbor, pervert, Mr. Breck, who appeared one morning with a yardstick to measure the distance between our property lines and declared our in-ground pool in violation of building codes. I know he just wanted a good look at my boobs."

Ginny snorted, then sat up, glancing at the many rhododendrons which blocked views from the street and neighbors.

"No sign of Mr. Breck. We're safe. Now it's Mission Impossible time." She shimmed down her shorts and pulled them off.

She sat back up, pussy splayed open, tits on full display, so unbothered by the world, I wondered if I was a prude.

"Why do you call it Mission Impossible," I asked?

"Have you seen me, girl? My skin is basically Carrara marble. My skin is so pale it reflex light," Ginny joked, squinting at her skin. "I bet I could blind airline pilots with my ass. What do you think? So getting a tan without crispy burnt skin is Mission Impossible. "

I was laughed so much it hurt. "Let's set up a test. Next clear day, we'll see if we can get a plane to veer off course. Loser buys pizza."

She waggled her eyebrows. "You're on. This will be so easy. My skin is basically the color of a beluga whale. The pilots don't stand a chance."

After a few minutes of silence, the back fence door opened. My Dad appeared, carrying a sack of groceries and whistling a tune. He nodded to us and flashed a quick smile. Ginny offered a friendly wave, trying to act like she didn't have a crush. I liked that Ginny could be so cool, how easily and quickly she became family. Her comments about my Dad, though, increasingly, were about his dick.

"So do you think, your Dad know I think he's a hunk? I mean I hope he comes out nude so I can see his junk," Ginny said. Then sang the words in a high falsetto, "I think he's beautiful."

Ginny went home that evening, then I sat at the kitchen table tracing the path of the worn knotholes in the oak, while Mom chopped vegetables. I always enjoyed this time of day, preparing dinner, talking. an oldie station playing, and the way the sunlight came in the kitchen windows.

"You and Ginny looked like your were having fun out there," Mom said, not looking up from chopping vegetables.

"It's kind of our thing now," I said. "She's obsessed with getting a tan before school starts."

Mom smiled, dropped her knife, and popped a carrot into her mouth. "I'm glad she's your friend," she said. "I like her. At your age, friendships are so important, especially for girls. Also, tell Ginny she can help herself to any popsicles in the freezer but the blue ones are mine!"

"That's a dangerous offer," I warned. "She'll eat everything in there including the stick."

"That's all right, sweetheart," Mom said. "She's practically my third daughter." The way Mom said it made me feel very protective of Ginny, the complete opposite of my older sister, Julie.

After dinner, I retreated to my room, laying across the bed, checking my phone. Ginny had sent a string of memes, a blurry selfie of herself under her comforter ("I stole a blue one! tell ur Mom"). Oh, I might skip summer class tomorrow because "summer days r made for suntans. U in?"

I liked the invitation. I wasn't going to a summer session, like Ginny but I was volunteering at the food bank in town. Fortunately, it was not my week on.

It was late. The house was quiet, I could hear Dad in the living room, watching some true crime show. I padded down the stair for water from the kitchen following the new clothing rules. The house had an after dark feel, safe, contained and cooler. I loved nothing more that late night walks through the house naked. Sometime, I would even go in the backyard to dance under the moon. Somehow, the nudity seemed more intense when I was, alone and in the dark. My boobs had grown from a B to a C, in just the last nine months, and they had an amazing giggle when I walked, which thrilled me. I loved the way my famously juicy pussy, tingling from being outside. I suppose you couldn't call it exhibitionism because no on was there to see it but me. Dad didn't look up when I tippy-toed into the kitchen.

When I returned to the stairs, I saw Dad standing in the hallway, looking at an old family photo on the wall. He got startled, not expecting to see me.

"Oh, hey, sport," he said, keeping his voice low. "Didn't know you were us. I thought I was alone."

"Just thirsty," I said.

He smiled, the kind smile he reserved for Mom and me. Dad was handsome in a way I only now appreciated. He was tall, athletic, had an angular face with a dusting of gray at the temples. He was nude just like me and the easy going way he stood, made him seem more manly than any guy I'd known.

We looked at the photo silently together, and I folded my arms under my boobs lifting them. I was still getting used to my new size and unconsciously did things that showed them off.

Dad said, "You were such a scamp when you were small. Remember when you smeared peanut butter on Ginny's back pretending it was suntan lotion?"

"She's never lets me forget it," I said, grinning.

"You two are very good for each other," Dad added. "I like seeing you with someone who knows you so well and loves you." He paused, put his arm around my shoulder, looking into my face. "You doing okay, these days? Sometimes I think your smile doesn't go as deep as it used to." Dad knew how to read me. "I'm really proud of you."

I shrugged and looked at the pictures, seeing myself at six, an irrepressible bundle of motion and messy hair. "I'm good," I said. "Just... grown-up stuff I'm working out, I guess."

Dad looked like he wanted to say something more but instead, he move closer and gave my shoulder a little squeeze, the way he used to when I was little and scraped my knee. His grasp lingered, and I leaned into it, wrapping my arms around his naked body and felt no hesitancy pressing my boobs against him.

"You know," he said, his thumb idly tracing the bra strap grooves on my shoulder, "there's always time for hugs in this house. If you want them, I'm always here for you."

I nodded, feeling suddenly emotional and teary eyed.

"Thank you, Daddy. That mean everything to me." What was it about Tuesday in July that could make a person's heart get so squishy? I'm not sure?

"Be honest, I'm really your favorite daughter," I said making him pick me over Julie.

"Of course you're my favorite daughter, darling," was the response, knowing he told Julie the same thing.

"Prove it," I said, and looked at him with my best mock-serious face.

Dad laughed, a soft, chest-deep sound. "All right. Name your proof."

I hadn't expected him to call my bluff. "Well," I said, stretching out the words.

"Julie got a car when she graduated. I think I deserve a comparable family heirloom."

He looked down, pretending to ponder. "We could give you the lawnmower. It's vintage, you know. Runs like a dream, if you prime it just right."

"Sold," I said, grinning. And there it was, the old warmth but also new pride. I appreciated the genuine grown up exchange with my Dad. He did treated me like he was very proud.

We hugged me one more time, then let go. "Night, sport," he said.

"Night, Dad." He gave my bare bottom a slap and quick squeeze. I felt so loved when he did that.

Back in my room, I closed my door, DM'd Ginny, got a towel from the bathroom and placed it on the bed in multiple layers. Recently, I started squirting when I masturbated. I remember the first time it happened, three months ago, I nearly screamed while my parents were awake in their bedroom. I thought I'd peed the bed and spent half an hour meticulously trying to dry the wet patch. I was mortified but it was an amazing cum. Now it happened almost every time, so I prep towels to make sure I didn't leave a mess. I never told anyone, not even Ginny but she asked out of the blue, if I squirted. Was she a mind reader? Ginny was curious about everything sexual and had NO filter. Zero!

My phone pinged, with another message from Ginny, something about the swimsuit she should bring tomorrow, a leopard print one-piece or her "whore bikini." I laughed into my pillow, then rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling.

"Bring the whore suit. It's you. It doesn't matter anyway because you won't wear it for long," I replied.

She responded," I know but trying to make a good impression on your Dad," with a smiling emoji?

"He's not a swimsuit critic, Gins. Pick one," I sent. I typed and deleted a few other replies, not sure how I felt about encouraging her. Maybe I was jealous. Even I knew Daddy was a hunk.

She shot back, "Bet he loves my freckles!" then a quick, "Goodnight babe ❤️."

The way Ginny threw out these comments, I never knew if she was joking or she was serious. It was impossible to embarrass her, and sometimes I thought she tried to shock me for fun.

I masturbated with the lights off, listening to the window AC drone, and thought about Ginny and summer and, unexpectedly, about my Dad's hands, how lovingly he squeezed my shoulder and patted my bottom. He felt so comforting and safe. I thought about a hot guy in school as my fingers alternated between circling my clit and diving into my sopping pussy. I had a good orgasm, and the towel got soaked to the second layer. I didn't move for minutes, my wrist was tired, my heart floaty. I thought about texting Ginny to see if she was still up. I thought about maybe getting a vibrator.

I drifted off, slept content, and in the morning the air in my room had that conditioned feel while sunlight slipping through the blinds and dust looked like snow in the air. I snapped a photo for Ginny, my hand flashing a peace sign over my legs, the towel showing a big wet patch.

"Bravo! U r the Squirt Queen," she replied, then, "I'm super proud of you!" I laughed at her comment. It's a great girlfriend, who tells you how proud they are of you, that you squirt. I loved, Ginny!

After breakfast, I heard her before I saw her, clomping up the path, singing an off-key song about driving a car. She rapped once on the door, came in anyway, and called, "Amber! I brought smoothies, and... don't get mad, but I swiped your favorite tortilla chips." I was sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, in my favorite bikini, flipping through TV channels.

"Hey, babe," I called out. My bikini was intentionally small and too tight but I loved the way it showed off my cleavage without being too slutty. It had a small triangle in the front with two strings connecting the material that covered half of my very fine ass in the back. Ginny dropped her bag at my side and plopped onto the couch, wiggling out of her shorts in a smooth motion. She wore her new "whore bikini" which turned out to be a nearly, transparent two-piece tiny bikini. She looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for a scorecard.

"You are certifiably insane, you know that, right," I declared, "but... I love it. You know, you'd get arrested wearing that thing anywhere but here."

"Are your parents home?"

"Dad had a meeting downtown. Mom is shopping."

"Good, your Dad can see me in this or out of it, I don't care," Ginny surprised me by sitting in my lap facing me and offering me a chip. "What's the plan, girlfriend? Pool, then lazy around sunbathing before watching reruns until we're bored to tears?"

"Basically," I said, crunching the chip she gave me. "And snack and drinks, of course."

She grinned. "Or we could prank call your sister at work. You know Julie's Supervisor totally wants to bang her. She's the only one who doesn't know that."

I flipped her off, but the idea tempted me. For once, it was a perfect morning. The two of us plotting in the living room, chips, fruit smoothies and Ginny's long white porcelain legs everywhere. Her bikini left nothing to the imagination. I could literally see her nipples, red bush and ass crack.

"Where did you get this? I dare you run around the backyard in that," I challenged. "It'll totally freak out Mr. Breck."

"Only if you wear your Handmaiden bikini," she retorted sarcastically.

She shrugged like it was the easiest insult in the world. Then she gave me a peck on the lips before getting up out of my lap. When she stood her bush stared me in my face.

"Freckles will need SPF50 today," she said, grabbing her bag of stuff.

I chased her into the backyard, both of us barefoot and shrieking as the cool grass brushed our ankles, in need of a cut. Ginny didn't stop running before diving, headfirst into a pool. I followed, taking the ladder and the dignified way, slower but a magnificent view of my glorious ass entering the pool.

We bobbed around, daring each other to cannonball, and hovering on the pool's edge, making up dirty things about the neighbors. Ginny invented a whole backstory for the old lady across the street "She's an ex-Russian gymnast, who poisons pigeons to keep them from spying on her, and all her houseplants are plastic because she hates watering", my cheeks hurting from laughing so much.

After a while, Ginny paddled up close, bumping me.

She said, "Hey, Amber," her voice unusually quiet, almost nervous. "Can I ask you something and promise me you won't get weirded out?"

I pushed off the edge to tread water. "Since when have you ever worried about weirding me out?"

She grinned shyly. "Point taken but just... promise? I mean really promise."

"I promise but now I'm worried."

"Okay, so I know how open your family is... you know about bodies, sex and stuff." She looked down at the water. "But have you ever, like... thought about what it would be like if we kissed? For real? Like we really meant it?"

It was such a significant turn in the conversation, my brain skipped a beat. The sun above her cast a halo effect but that just made her innocent face more disarming. She was no angel.

"I mean, we kind of did before," I said, not even sure why I was admitting to that.

Ginny pushed from the edge and kicked hard, sending a spray of water at me. "That time was a joke. I'm talking, for real, real with tongue and everything. Like we mean it. No faking."

I didn't know what to say, and I ducked under the water, coming back up with my hair plastered.

"Is that what you want?"

Ginny scooted closer, arms reaching my shoulders, toes brushing my shin. "Yeah. Sometimes I think about it. Because... I think you're super hot and I feel weird never telling you that. You know I love you and I tell you literally, everything. You know all my secrets."

I laughed, "Well, not that one apparently. You're ridiculous," I said, but I realized I her words made me happy and grinned when I said that so she didn't believe me.

"You're not completely against the idea?" she stated hoping I would get used to the idea.

I shook my head, more honestly than I meant to. "No, I'm not against it." I couldn't believe I said that.

Ginny let out a sigh, like she'd been holding it in for years. "Okay good," she said, suddenly all confidence, "cause I really want to kiss you now, and if you hate it you can drown me. My parents won't care. I'm expendable."

There was a split second where I could have broken the mood by laughing but I couldn't make light of her feelings.

"Okay," I said letting her initiate. She leaned in real slow and kissed me. Her lips were soft, oddly tasting of raspberry smoothie and pool chlorine. I waited for her to laugh and pull away, but she became more urgently, mouth opening, her fingers knotting in my wet hair. She sucked my tongue. The kiss was surprisingly pretty cool, and when her tongue circled my mouth, I actually enjoying it. Ginny was good at this.

When she let go, she blinked, water streaming down her red lashes. "You taste like lemonade," she announced. "Is that weird? No, not weird, that's good." We sort of collapsed into giggles at ourselves, like we always did when we were kids hiding from the consequences of whatever we had done.

"What do you think," she asked?

"It was good. Nice. Real good, actually," I responded boosting her ego.

Ginny dunked under, resurfacing with dramatic flare before swimming to the ladder and hauling herself out, water streaming from her body. I watched, weirdly proud of what we did but also a little fuzzy. This was now a thing, I realized. She knew it, I knew it but there was nothing we had to do about it, on this perfect July afternoon.

"You might as well not be wearing a bikini, if you're going to wear that thing," I threw at her.

She turned and stuck out her tongue. "Race you to the kitchen. Loser admit there in love."

I rolled my eyes, because I was already the loser. She left a trail of wet footprints across the cool tile as we both barreled inside. We ended up on the ceramic floor in a howl of laughter, Ginny's elbow in my ribs, spilling smoothie next to the fridge. She glared at me and said, "I think I'm in love with you, for real, for the record."

"Wait, what are you saying... to me? Can you say that back for the camera?" She fished her phone out of her bag, filmed a close-up of my face, and I shrieked, laughed and tried to wrestle it away.

I saw something in her eyes, maybe victory, maybe hope or maybe just... relief? For a second, I pushed my own feelings deep within me. I wondered how I was lucky enough to get a Ginny in my life.

"Well, for the record, I'm not adverse to that. You're quite a sexy girlfriend," I replied to her.

We added more ice to our drinks, Ginny gnawed at a handful of chips, we took our suits off, put towels around our waists and nothing else, and wandered to the living room. We watched reruns of a dumb game shows and made pop-psych commentary about the contestants ("He's never gotten over his Mom," "She for sure shops at TJ Maxx and yells at the cashier"). We didn't talk about the pool kiss or any other feelings for now.

I saw a trickle of water running down Ginny's chest between her boobs and was jealous. Her nipples looked brand new and perfect. Every so often, she'd throw me a glance, sly, like a dare. I had so many questions.

When my Mom came home, she found us just like that, splayed on the floor, bare-legged, a bowl of half-eaten chips between our knees and topless. "Clearly you two were productive today," Mom said, eyebrows arched and shopping bags in each hand. "If you're hungry, I got sushi as a treat. And Ginny, I picked up those fancy canned coffees you like, only, it turns out, I like them too, so hands off. I could use some help here."

Ginny launched herself off the couch, flinging her towel aside, running totally naked and executed a little dance around the kitchen island. "Bless you, Mrs. H," she cried. "Honestly, at this point, I should just pay you child support for all the groceries you feed me."

Mom smiled at Ginny's antics. "You're worth every penny, dear," she said. I watched and listened, feeling proud of my family and, surprisingly, a little possessive of Ginny. I wanted Ginny completely to myself, not a family member, not even as a best friend but as a new, secret thing we hadn't figured out yet.

After dinner, Ginny disappeared into my room to "forage for a T-shirt," and I helped Mom clean up. The day left my skin with dried on sunscreen, chlorine and my brain fizzled out.

"Amber," Mom said, softly. "You seem very happy and content. Anything I should know about?"

I loaded forks into the dishwasher. "Yeah," I said, trying not to blush.

She leaned back against the counter, just wearing a summer skirt and nothing else. Her big maternal boobs seemed extra heavy on her chest. "Ginny's a good girl. You've always had a lightness when she's with you. I like that. She brings out the best in you."

"We're just friends," I said, not sure why I said that.

"Friends, oh... sure," Mom replied. Then, after a beat, "But it's fine if there's more."

I laughed but it didn't sound genuine. "Mom," I started.

She cut me off, gently. "No, honey, listen. It's alright to love anyone you want, how ever you want. You know that, right? I believe that very strongly." She looked me in the eye, completely non-judgmentally. "I don't want you to think you need to hide anything, not here. Not in our house. I hope you know you can talk about anything with your Dad and myself."

I blinked, surprised at how big the knot in my throat had grown. "I know. Thanks, Mom. That means a lot to me."

She nodded, as if it was all settled, and got back to loading the dishwasher. She hummed, and a lightness settled over the kitchen.

"I'm going to take a shower," Mom said. "And then get comfortable.

"Want ice cream floats later," Mom asked?

From the other room Ginny yelled out, "Yes, thank you Mrs. H!"

"How that girl stays so thin, I'll never know," Mom said and went upstairs.

Later, we went to my room and Ginny sprawled across my mattress, wearing my biggest hoodies and nothing else, her bare legs were pale against the bed sheets. Her bush was on full display. She was reading one of my old yearbooks.

"Your Mom's a mind-reader," Ginny said as I joined her, prying the yearbook from her hands.

"She knows something. She literally asked me if I had any girlfriends, like, as soon as I went in the kitchen. When I said no, she said, 'well, you'll always have Amber.' I nearly died wondering what she thought of me."

I groaned. "I promise you she loves you but she's obsessed with matchmaking. She tried to set Julie up with a Starbuck's guy last Christmas. I mean those guys make shit. That's no future."

Ginny rolled on her side, propping up her head with her hand. "It's nice she cares. It's better than my Mom. She keeps asking when I'll get serious about med school and if my cramps are an STIs. Who does she think I am?"

We fell into a friend's silence, flipping through the yearbook, trading stories about people we used to know, laughing at the way everyone looked goofy and geeky. I pointed out a photo of Ginny with braces and twin braids, and she groaned,

"God, if you ever show that to anyone, I'll kill you." She retaliated by finding an old picture of me at freshman orientation, hair frizzed into a tangled puff from the humidity, my face looking totally confused. She took a picture of it with her cellphone. "Blackmail material," she said.

"You look like a traumatized hamster," she declared, poking the paper with a pink fingernail. I snorted ice cream float through my nose and we both howled, falling on the bed so hard the yearbook slid off the side and thudded on the carpet.

After a while, the laughter faded and the room was just the sounds of a summer's night. I could hear cicadas out the window and, farther off, someone's dad mowing their lawn with a mower that sounded like it was having a bad day. How do they mow when it's dark I wondered.

Ginny sat against my pillow, arms behind her head, hoodie riding up. She spread her legs so her pink pussy lips were obvious. Her eyes were asking me all these questions for which I had no answers. All I knew for sure was she was my dearest friend and I loved her. I had no idea if I wanted to accept her implied offer?

"Can I sleep over tonight?" she asked, but it wasn't a question so much as a statement, a routine question because she knew the answer would always be, yes.

I shrugged, trying to be indifference. "You don't have to ask. We're basically codependent at this point. Right," I said with a smile.

She grinned, her mouth twisting into a lopsided. "You love it," she said, and she knew she was right.

The rest of the evening was ordinary, but also different. I brushed my teeth at the sink, Ginny beside me, both of us in T-shirts with no underwear. Mom and Dad were walking back and forth to the bathroom like Ginny was just part of the family. No one cared who was nude. My Mom's tits seemed strangely larger and implying Dad was going to get lucky. It looked like my Dad's dick was already plumper and bouncing from one leg to the other when he walked. Ginny couldn't look away.

We turned off the bathroom lights when we were done and returned to my bedroom. Ginny grabbed my wrist, for a second once inside my room.

"Did you see your Dad's dick" I think he had a mini boner, it was awesome." We climbed into our separate beds saying nothing but Ginny mumbling about my Dad's dick.

After several minutes, Ginny asked, "Are you every going to invite me over there?"

"Ginny, I'm sorry. Did I even have to?"

"Yes, of course. Well, at least, the first time, bitch," she said cracking me up!

Ginny pulled off her t-shirt before sliding in beside me and smelling fresh and showered. Our legs tangled, warm and bare. Her hair fanned everywhere and she put her hands around me and kissed my cheek.

"Do you think I'd be a good dolphin trainer," she asked, unprompted?

"You'd be an amazing dolphin, but a terrible dolphin trainer," I said answering her daily question about dolphins.

"Why," she whined?

"You'd never stop giving them fish treats," I said very seriously.

She snickered, nuzzling my neck and shimmied her way even closer to my body so her boobs were almost part of me, warm and soft with one knee pushing into my pussy.

She slept like that, or seemed to, in a matter of minutes; it was Ginny's superpower, instant unconsciousness when things got too complicated. Her breathing quieted, a little huff at the end of every exhale. I felt my heart fighting to slow down. Maybe I was easy with this, maybe this was too unusual. I wasn't sure how I felt. At some point, I realized I was wide awake wondering about the things that happened today.

Ginny's hands found my boobs a few moments later, and grabbed my nipple. I smiled with my eyes closed, savoring it. Oh, my god that felt good when she pulled. I didn't want to think too much, I just let myself float, feeling her warm lips tease me. It was late, but my mind was zipping from one thought to another. I considered my parents down the hall, probably asleep after two rounds of sex. About how it all just... fit together, the way my parents let things be what they were, even when they were strange or new. I thought the first days when we declared we were friends, whisper secrets, daring each other to confess something shocking just to see who would do it first.

Today we confess a doozy. I reached down and took her hand, intertwining my fingers in hers. She squeezed back, sleepy and reflexive.

"Hey, Ambs?" she murmured. "If you ever want me to stop, just say so. I'll go back to being your best friend, I don't want to weird you out."

I laughed in my head. "I'm not weirded out. I love your attention. You're so soft and girly."

"You're softer," Ginny replied, "you're beautiful," then made a humming sound in her throat and pressed her mouth against my neck. She was drifting, already halfway to dreams.

"I love you, Gins," I whispered. "I mean, I really love you, so we can be what ever you want us to be. I'll probably still like boys, though. If that's okay."

"Me too, Ambs. Me too." She touched my pussy and it felt nice with her hand there.

"Gins?"

"What?"

"Can we shave that big hairy, red bush of yours? It's kind of scary."

"I guess, if that's what you want," Ginny said.

My felt like doing cartwheels at my sexy idea, and I suspected I'd only said it, to see if she'd call my bluff. I'd only ever shaved myself and I'd another girls, but Ginny trusting me which was super exciting. It was so far from kissing, or touching, or even being naked together. It was almost like sex. It was the feeling like you could do or say anything, and the other person would go, "okay," and mean it.

"Tomorrow?" I said. "In sunlight?"

Ginny yawned and nuzzled my neck. "Sure, Amber. I'll be all aerodynamic for you."

I giggled, and she did too, a quiet, happy chorus of two. I thought maybe everything in the universe was built for these king of fleeting moments. I drifted off feeling her knee between mine, fingers entwined and hot breath on me. She was sprawled partly on me while we slept but I didn't care.

Later Ginny said, "Ambs, do you think I'm pretty?"

I knew Ginny was fishing for reassurance, for a compliment but something about the way she said it made me wish I could bottle all her good feelings.

"You're fucking gorgeous, babe" I said. "You're, like, the most beautiful girl I've ever kissed in a pool, and that includes my own reflection."

She snorted. "Good one. You're such a dork." But she pressed her face against my boobs and her smile was real. We stayed like that for ages, not talking, just listening to the bugs outside, smelling the amazing aroma from our bodies. My parents' voices drifted once or twice from their bedroom in the middle of the night but they were a murmur and then evaporated.

"I can see why your Mom wants to cuddle with you. You're so nice," Ginny said.

"She's a pro at it," I murmured, but Ginny fell asleep before she could agree. I lay there, a want in my pussy, a nervous, happy want that was soon going to need attention. I liked the way I felt with her draped over me, like we were in sixth grade trying to protect each other from the world. I thought about touching her all over to learn her body. I wanted to know how it felt, everywhere.

At dawn, a thin thread of light picked its way between the curtains, lighting the room in gold. Ginny was already awake, propped on an elbow, her cheek against the pillow and freckles like a star map. She was staring at me in a way that should have made me self-conscious but not now. I smelled the rich aroma of our bodies and it made me horny.

"Creeper," I said. My voice was sleepy.

"Only because you're beautiful when you're not talking," she shot back.

That made me laugh, and I rolled over to face her, squinting in the bright light. "Weirdo," I said, but it sounded more like a compliment than an insult.

Ginny's hand went to my hips, and she stroked it absentmindedly while her eyes scanned my face, like she was remembering the details. I'd always thought it would be intimidating, being stared at, but instead it felt like she was giving, not taking.

"So about that swimming pool experiment," she said, voice syrupy with mischief, "do you think we could blind a pilot with our twin moon, ass power? Because today looks like the day."

I laughed, then remembered my promise. "Only if you help me with the sunscreen. I'm not getting melanoma just to prank an Air Force pilot."

"Maybe I'll draw freckles on you with SPF one hundred?" Ginny poked fun.

"I want you to draw dirty words on me, so I can watch them appear," I mused, stretching my arms overhead, letting the sheet drop to my waist. Ginny stared at my boobs.

"Absolutely iconic," she said. "Prepare to have 'SLUT' and 'DORK' written in SPF block letters."

She levered herself out of bed, making sure I got every chance to see her nudity from different angles. She walked over to my closet and dug for a shirt, not bothering with underwear even for breakfast. I half-expected her to pull on the most ridiculous thing I owned, but instead she grabbed a soft blue t-shirt that covered half her ass, and it felt intimate to see her in my clothes.

Downstairs, Mom had coffee brewing and dog-eared the newspaper. She didn't even look up when Ginny pirouetted in, the tight t-shirt and leggings making obvious the space between her thighs and stomach.

"Morning, lovebirds," Mom sang, pouring coffee into mugs for us both.

"Your Mom is a legend," Ginny whispered, her hand going under the table. I nearly choked on my first sip, mostly from surprise of her put her fingers on my pussy.

We shuffled through the breakfast ritual in a dreamy way: buttering toast, fighting over who got the banana, and glances across the table like we hadn't just spent the last evening wrapped around each other. The day was starting out impossibly easy. Even the air felt different, like we'd re-tuned the house to Ginny and my frequency.

After breakfast, we both showered before retreating to the backyard. The grass was already sun-warmed. We lay towels, not even bothering with clothing and sprawled in the open sun, side by side. No one said it but our day was going to be spent totally nude.

Ginny's skin was still very pale, almost reflective, and I watched her pulse flutter below the skin, at the side of her neck. Today, she was determined to get color, but each time she rolled over, she'd mutter, "Should've worn SPF fifty, I'm going to be so red." I didn't mind being an exhibitionist, if any of the neighbors were watching while we lazed in the backyard naked. If anything, I felt oddly safe and relaxed, the sun warming my stomach and Ginny's hand was against my hip. There was the unmistakable tingle in my pussy.

After a while, she dug into her tote and pulled out a battered pink disposable razor. She looked at me, eyes showing a humorous dare. "Still want to defoliate the bush?" she asked.

I blinked in surprise, then laughed, more at the way she announced it than the task. "I can't believe you actually brought a razor," I said. "Did you plan this?"

She shrugged and handed it over, then sprawled on her back with her legs apart, the red curls looking on fire in the sunlight. "If you're gonna do it, act like you enjoy it," she said, grinning, and wiggled her eyebrows for effect. A strong scent of coconut and pussy flooded our space.

I ran inside for shaving cream, a basin of warm water and a towel, feeling nervous and excited. When I returned, Ginny had propped a beach towel behind her back so she could watch the fun, and was play acting, scrolling her phone, like it was just another boring Saturday.

"Are you sure you can trust me?" I asked, popping the cap off the shaving gel.

She didn't look up, and just pointed at her crotch. "Start there," she said, "and if you nick my labia I reserve the right to curse you forever. I dreamed all night about you handling my lady bits."

"Noted," I said, and knelt in front of her.

The first swipe was tentative but Ginny lurched. Her hair was so thick I immediately abandoned the idea of shaving first and ran to the house for clippers.

She howled with laughter when I returned, holding my Dad's beard trimmer aloft.

"I'll bet your Dad will be so pleased to learn, you used them on my pubes," Ginny said.

"I must tame the wild forest. And don't you say anything," I replied, trying to keep a straight face. "You deserve the best." My hands were shaking. She scooted up further to see the action, looked me dead in the eye, and said,

"Do your worst, Ambs."

We were both giggling too hard for me to start, so I pointed the trimmer skyward, thumbed the switch, and made the clippers buzz in the air. Ginny pretended to cross herself and said, "May God have mercy on my perineum."

We laughed again and I nearly dropped the buzzing trimmer on her belly.

The first pass was more satisfying than I could have predicted. The trimmer zipped through the curly red thicket, leaving a short, pale path behind. I worked slowly being careful not to catch her delicate lips in the blades. Ginny watched me the entire time. Her trust was nice. We fell into quiet, where all jokes had been spent, until it was just the vibration of the clippers in my hand and the "oohs and aahs" from Ginny as I pulled, pushed and generally fingered her labia until there was just a short fuzz. I reapplied shaving cream and pick up the razor. I made her jump and squeal when I pressed the buzzing clipper intentionally against her clit.

"Ahh, girlfriend, now comes the moment of truth?" she breathed.

"Just like glass," I said, with a flourish, and tested the razor on my forearm.

"You're in excellent hands, Captain."

"You call me Captain with my lady bits out?"

I shrugged, which made her laugh, a barking, delighted noise, I had to tell her to settle down before I risked hitting a pussy artery. She was all in for the bare look, so I made even strokes, chasing the remaining short hairs down to a glassy smoothness. The bare look was perfect with her alabaster complexion.

"Might as well be a total porcelain doll," she said. The skin under her bush was even whiter than the rest of her and for a minute I realized I was seeing something no one else had seen. I pulled her labia to one side, stretching it and shaving her smooth, then the other. Then around the delicate clitoris and finally her perineum. I carefully glided the razor around the outside of her lips pulling and pushing her mound out of the way, from her perineum to asshole for the last wisps of hair.

"Neat job, kid. It's looking amazing," she said, intently look at her own pink skin. "I do have a beautiful pussy, if I say so myself. It has lots of character."

She ran a hand over her skin, enjoying the strange, smoothness of exposed skin. "That's so fucking weird," she said, but her face was delighted. "Feel it Ambs, my god, it's like a real baby's bottom."

I poked her thigh, then ran my palm over the new-bare area, to self grade my work. It was soft, but had a little stubble remaining. Ginny arched into my touch like a cat when petted, laughing in a way that was totally pure and completely delightful.

"I want to make it perfect," I said intent on my work and complete the same strokes all over again.

"Now you have to maintain it," I said, "otherwise you'll be a fuzzy red mess, again.

She stuck out her tongue and wagged it. "If you want me to come over every week to lawnmower my pubes and give me a hand job, you're going to have to start paying me like a real girlfriend."

I made a mock-gasp, and cleaned her with a wet towel. "You couldn't afford my rates."

"You couldn't afford mine. Bet me," she said, and then we just grinned at each other. I was on a high, the whole day which let me say anything to Gins.

"Okay, the deluxe salon treatment means we need to clean-up your ass crack," I challenged her.

"You cheeky little bitch. This was your devious plan the whole time," she countered. "Is this what besties do, shave their girlfriend's asshole," she quipped?

"Oh, for sure," I said. "Now flip over!"

Ginny obeyed instantly, putting a huge amount of trust in me. Upon her stomach, she squeezed so both cheeks flexed, making me laugh.

"Hold your cheeks apart so I can get in there," I told her. More shaving gel to the ass crack, pretended to throw up for maximum drama.

"Shut up, you. This is very embarrassing," Ginny remarked with a tone suggesting she wasn't entirely joking.

I focused intently on the razor work. "That's why it's so expensive."

She sighed, a long, theatrical moan, but kept perfectly still. I got the rest of her, then wiped her clean and patted and kissed her bottom and said, "All done, princess. You're now ready to be gynecological runway model, named Gins. Just like your friends, Giselle, Elle and Cindy," and she howled with laughter.

Ginny rolled over and spread her legs wide to review my handiwork.

"Holy shit, I look like a naked mole rat." She stared, eyes wide in amazement, then turned the compliment toward me: "Ambs, you're a frigging Picasso. Seriously, you should open a beauty school. We'll call it, Amber's School of Beautiful Pussies." I grinned and suddenly had the urge to cover my own crotch, aware I hadn't shaved in a weeks. Ginny caught my look and lifted her chin like a regal queen.

"Your turn," she said, from the person who never lost at truth-or-dare.

"I don't know... you've never done this," I hedged, but Ginny just grinned and patted the towel next to her.

"You can't give me a Brazilian and then chicken out when I want to do it to you. It's basically a law of friendship."

Secretly I was thrill but nerves and a weird trust in Ginny calmed me. When we were done and all cleaned, my Mom suddenly appeared at the patio door.

"Is it safe out here," she called?

"Sure, Mom," I called and shuffled our paraphernalia back into the house.

"Do you mind my company?"

"No, Mrs. Harrison. Of course not," Ginny replied.

"Wonderful," and she walked onto the patio in a long t-shirt. She pulled up a lounge chair next to us.

"If you don't mind company, would you mind terribly if I joined you nude sunbathing? I would hate to spoil your girl's time."

"No, that would be fabulous, Mrs. Harrison. You're a girl too and you've got an amazing body," Ginny said, smiling and standing.

"Thank you, Ginny. That makes me feel very welcome. I've been meaning to mention something, Ginny. You should call me Susan or Sue. You're old enough. No more Mrs. Harrison, okay?"

"Do you like Amber's handiwork, Susan," she asked?

"Handiwork," Susan asked?

"See. Amber shaved my pussy and gave me a baldy," Ginny spread her legs and pushed her vulva out to show off.

Susan took in the smooth expanse with a neutral, almost clinical eye, not shocked or embarrassed in the least. "Oh, my Amber, you did a lovely job," Mom said, then set her coffee down.

"Very elegant and sexy but if you don't want bumps, aloe is your best friend, dear."

Ginny glowed at the compliment, actually beaming, and nudged me in the ribs. "See? Your Mom likes my pussy."

"I wish my own Mother was this chill," Ginny said, then to Susan: "Thank you, Susan. I really mean that."

Mom laughed. "Oh, I've had plenty of practice on myself and I taught Amber how to do hers. She is very skilled, now. It's just hair, it grows back, if you change your mind, darling." Susan lifted her t-shirt over her head to reveal her nude body and bare naked pussy.

Susan was similar to Amber but more. She was very appealing with round, sagging D boobs and large areolas with pencil thick eraser nipples pointed out. Her bottom was full with a few rippled and bumps but not fat and her pussy was interesting with large dark labia lips hanging between her legs dominated by a puffed out clitoris.

"You look amazing, Susan. I'm so glad you joined us," Ginny said. Susan put a towel down, lay on the lounge and got comfortable.

"I'm glad to be with you both," Susan said. "Sometimes, I just don't have opportunities for girl talk."

"Mom, we love you here and we're happy to share," Amber replied. "Any time."

"So what were we talking about, boys, sex? Something juicy, I hope," Susan asked with a big grin.

"Mom likes to get right to the spicy stuff, Gins. So don't hold back. Gees, why am I telling you that."

Ginny snorted. "We were just talking about hair removal and flashing pilots, Susan. But now that you mention it, there must be some other juicy subjects. Who were you dating before Mr. Harrison?"

Mom let her eyes go wide, then rolled them for dramatic effect. "Oh lord, do you want the real answer or the version I give to Auntie Beverly?"

"The real one, of course," I said, and Ginny cackled in agreement.

Mom stretched her arms above her head tugging her big boobs higher and displaying her smooth underarms. Her pose looked so relaxed she appeared like an artist's model. She bent her knee unconsciously so her pussy was conspicuous, mesmerizing Ginny with her dark, meaty labia.

"Well, to be honest, I had a wild stretch in sophomore year of college. Some frat boys, a couple rugby players, one girl on the fencing team, and the guy who ran the campus radio station, which is way cooler than it sounds. Plus one crazy party where I stumbled into a bedroom orgy. I was quite the center of attention that evening. The radio station guy, honestly, was more about music than sex and he was a big disappointment in bed but he taught me about Talking Heads, so it evened out."

I glanced at Ginny, who was grinning so hard her freckles seemed to bounce. That's so cool," Ginny said. "Did you hook up with the fencing girl?" asked Ginny, a hopeful for more details.

Susan sipped her coffee. "Oh, she was very beautiful and firm in all the right places. I had a crush the entire season but never more that a few quick kisses after matches." Until, at the end of the season, she pulled me into the girl's shower. Needles to say, we washed each other everywhere. She was so sexy... that's a good memory."

Mom raised an eyebrows at me. "Have you ever kiss a girl, Amber," she asked knowingly?

"Really, Mom." I said. Ginny shot me a devious look that said, You wanna?

"Not unless you count Gin's pranks," I replied. Ginny snorted and poked me.

"Well, it's not as scary as it sounds," Susan said. "For me, it was just a phase. Not that I didn't like touching a soft, sweet girl. There is nothing like playing with boobies," she said lifting hers up and pointing them at Ginny. "And girls seem to know just what to do to make you cum."

Ginny choked. "You're so open, Susan. I feel like I could ask anything and it wouldn't faze you."

"Oh, please, dear I've experienced a lot," Susan said. She tilted her head, thoughtful. "And, you can, ask. Ask me anything, dear. I'll admit I had weird parents. My hippie Mother had a thing about honesty. It's easier to be honest," she would say. "Remember, Gammy, Amber?" She spread her legs further apart, rubbing her labia lips absentmindedly. "And it makes afternoons by the pool so much less awkward."

We giggled together but I could feel Mom searching for confessions from either of us, more like two girls and a Mother than three girls sharing intimate secrets. Ginny was grinning from ear to ear, and leaning on my Mom's lounge looking at her in awe. I realized I loved seeing her like this, totally open, confident, maybe a little starry-eyed over the way Mom told us about her sex life. I knew Ginny loved be included in our family.

The sun climbed towards one and we were a little pink and needing more protection. Ginny retreated to the house for the aloe and suntan lotion and I lay down, towel over my eyes, drifting in and out of a daydream. I wondered how many other girls, my age spent their summer vacation nude sunbathing with their mother and best friend. A fleeting image of Ginny sucking on my pussy popped into my head and I came out of the daydream, as I heard Ginny chattering on her return.

She plopped the bottles down with a flourish, upending it into her hand and slapping cold gel onto her thighs and pussy. "Here, Ambs, you're getting crispy," she said, and before I could pull away, she smeared a gob across my stomach and my boobs, massaging it in with zeal. I squeaked at the chill, which made her laugh, and she leaned over to peck me on the cheek.

"That's a pretty sneaky way to touch my boobs," I said.

Susan watched, arms folded behind her head, a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"You two," she said. "Always a performance. Ginny, did you ever think of drama club?"

Ginny stood and executed a little bow, then flicked more aloe on my body from her standing height. "Nah, I was more of a techie. Ambs is the star, weren't you, honey," being sarcastic?

"Only because you built the sets and rigged the lights to shut off at my best moment," I shot back. "You killed my opportunity for stardom."

"I saved you from a life of narcissism and false adulation," she said.

"True friendship," Susan declared, and winked. She reached for the Sunday crossword and said. "Let me know if you think of a five-letter word for 'unexpected bliss' because I think I know, right where to find it."

The balance of the day drifted between sun and shade, and Ginny really wrote DORK and SLUT on my back in sunscreen while Susan read aloud bits of the newspaper. At four, Dad came out to grill steaks and corn wearing just an apron and flip-flops. He was so chill about everyone's nudity that Ginny didn't hesitate to attract his attention, saying, "Hey, Mr. Harrison. Beautiful day," and asked if he wanted any help shucking the corn. He declined, but she went and stood by him anyway, trading puns and jokes back and forth.

Susan leaned over and whispered, "You know, she's got a huge crush on him." My face flushed but Mom giggled and patting my arm. "It's harmless, honey. Your Dad is a charmer, always has been. He still makes me blush. And that cock of his... Oh My Goodness!"

Dad had a precise way of grilling steak. He chatted with Ginny about school mascots, best food for the grill, and other topics, while Ginny shamelessly displayed her nude body and freshly shaven cooch. I admired the way she commanded a stage, even if it was a guy with tongs on a concrete patio. Then I saw Dad give Ginny's bottom several little pats and a squeeze and I knew my best friend had been totally accepted by my family. Susan sighed when she put her t-shirt back on and went into the kitchen to prepare the table.

"I always hate the end of nude sunbathing," Susan said. "It's so sad."

When the food was ready, Ginny and I scampered inside to the kitchen table. Our table was the scene of every birthday, every argument, every heartbreak and every accidental jello spill in my short life and now we wore the least clothing possible while still being polite. Ginny smothered her steak in steak sauce like she hadn't eaten in weeks, which made Dad grin and pile her plate higher. There was an ease between them and I was very lucky to be able to share all the people I loved.

After dinner and clean-up, Ginny and I fell to the living room rug and watched competitive cooking shows, the kind where everyone yells. Our feet were tangled together. Ginny's toes roamed up and down my shin, gently, like a cat kneading her spot before sleep. Outside the sky darkened from an approaching shower, which made our suburban street look magical.

Mom and Dad discussed vacation plans, maybe a weekend at the lake with kayaks, maybe a trip in the kitchen. They'd always been easy together, finishing each other's sentences and reading each other's moods. By eight, they excused themselves upstairs. Mom had been looking at Dad during dinner and I could tell she was very horny from an afternoon of nude sunbathing.

"Hey, Ambs," Ginny said, brushing a tortilla crumb from my thigh, "this whole day has been the best day I've ever had. Full stop."

"Me, too."

"I wish I could bottle and take it home. The dinner, your Mom and Dad, the easy going atmosphere, I'm so jealous."

"Mom called it 'unexpected bliss'," I whispered back. "Don't be jealous, you're right in the thick of it."

"That's so sweet, that means a lot." She giggled then said,"Dork." "Hey, can I call you tonight?" Ginny hated leaving the most. Every time I'd walked her home growing up, she'd find a reason to linger at the curb, kicking gravel or pretending to fix her backpack. Her house was never scary or bad, just not... easy. Then we heard my parents from upstairs, clearly having sex.

"Like that," she said. "Other parents having sex would be weird and uncomfortable, just gross. Here it's... magical."

"You're such a romantic, Gins."

"I am for you," Ginny shot back, and grinned. The sound continued, a steady rhythm of headboard thumps, gasps, and squeals and for a minute we both listened, absolutely mesmerized, until the pressure to giggle was too much. I started laughing and soon we were doubling over, laughing into each other, not because it was embarrassing but because it was so normal.

"I think your Mom just yelled 'suck it, Mr. Harrison,'" Ginny laughed, and it finished me. I had to bury my face and stomp the floor to muffle my cackles.

When the upstairs sounds faded, Ginny looked at me with bright eyes and said, "You ever think about what it would be like, if you did that, too?"

"With you?"

She shrugged. "No, anyone. Guys? Well, yeah with me too, I guess, either. I know you like guys and so do I."

"I hope it would be like my parents. A person you definitely can count on and make you feel safe but also someone you desperate want wild and crazy sex with."

Ginny studied me a long moment.

"Can't you stay one more night," I asked.

"You make it sound pretty possible," she said. I reached for her hand and we held each other, like we were hiding from a thunderstorm. My heart raced, with raw, uncertain feelings.

We heard more frantic pleading upstairs, Mom's moans, nothing loud, just insistent, like Dad had definitely found the right spot and was working it.

"Oh, Robert your fat dick is magic. I love it so much," we heard as clear as day. Ginny didn't snicker this time. She was serious and leaned into me till our lips touched, I could feel the static charge jump between us.

"I used to be afraid that you'd know how I felt. I'm not any more," Ginny said lovingly.

I kissed her again and again because in that moment, I needed her lips. I didn't think about it, I did what felt right. She snuggled closer, her body smelled right, fingers gliding over my legs, dangerously close. There was nothing we needed to say but Ginny did anyway, "I never want to go home," and each time I'd say,

"Then don't."

At midnight, the house was silent except for the hum of the fridge and the tick of the old wall clock. The amorous sounds from upstairs had ceased a half hour ago. Ginny stood, stretched, and said, "I'm gonna pee, then maybe I'll cry a little because I don't have this kind of family."

I followed her down the hall, partly because our house sometimes felt spooky and partly because I love the sight of her. She left the bathroom door open so I could watch her narrate her ablutions; peeing, wiping, washing hands, face check, wiggling her ass at me.

"As adorable as ever," she said mimicking a runway walk back to the living room. "Ginny Callahan, pussy model, extraordinaire," she giggled. We shut off the TV and quietly ascended the stairs but instead of my bedroom, Ginny steered us straight to the master suite. She quietly pushed the door ajar just enough to peer in. We saw my parent's king bed, covers messy and the sounds of sleeping.

"No way," I mouthed, scandalized. Ginny unbelievably tiptoed in the room like a ninja cat.

At the last minute, she pulled me in with her. The air was musky, like the a college dorm room after the weekend. My parents asleep, my father face down on the left side, totally bare-assed and my Mom with one leg over my father laying on her back. Her big boobs were resting to each side of her and her pussy looked angry and wet. Ginny clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle laughter, eyes like saucers. We looked for a long moment, at the foot of my parent's bed, witnessing the sort of domestic encounter rarely seen outside of risque French movies. My face was burning. I didn't even want to move, for fear of waking them and discovering us.

"I've never seen Mom so... relaxed... so beautiful." They were beautiful, weird and normal, all at the same time. I didn't know how to process it because who does this sort of thing?

I pulled Ginny out of the room because it felt so wrong. We went to my room, Ginny's arms around me unwilling to let go.

"Ambs, that was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed." I realized my parents were filling a very real void in Ginny, so I let her have this moment. Let's promise ourselves, if we can't find the right guy, we'll be with each other forever, instead. I know I could be totally happy with you," Ginny said then she made us pinky swear, because that was what you do, when it's serious.

It was now or never, I felt, and kissed Ginny while squeezing her tit. A kiss was one thing but squeezing tits was more serious.

"Okay, you convinced me, I'm sleeping over," Ginny said. I removed her t-shirt and pulled off my own.

She let me push her onto the mattress. She was definitely trembled now, which made me more aggressive. I got on top of her and kissed her, again. Her lips parted for me, the way they'd done in the pool, only here it ignited something.

"I wanna... do stuff, Ambs?" she challenged in a sticky, sweet voice. I nodded I did, too. I hadn't thought this far ahead, not with Ginny, not even in my private daydreams. It turned out there was no script, just my hands on Ginny's boobs and the sweet taste of her tongue in my mouth. The fact I was flooded with every weird, little thing she'd ever told me, said a lot about my feelings. I touched her everywhere I'd never dared to touch before, and she let me, she encouraged me. Her fingers playing with my ass, like she always wanted to and heroically teased my asshole. She pressed her pussy to my leg and I felt her white, hot smoothness of her pussy slide against me.

I lay on top of her and our boobs mashing together, flat. I reached for Ginny's bare pussy. She tried to say something, but I shushed her. I was fumbling because I never was the aggressor with guys.

She grabbed my leg, pulling it tight between her legs, grinding her smooth mound against my knee while her hand snaked down to find my pussy, a quivering puddle of goo. She drove her fingers into me and it was an amazing feeling. Ginny played with my folds, rubbing in soft circles and I wished obvious sound of my wetness would cease. Ginny giggled then tried to make my pussy squelch more, we lost it, laughing together and the funny, sexy situation.

"Such a juicy girl," she said enthusiastically. For a minute my face was pressed into her neck so she wouldn't see my embarrassment, I smelled Ginny's scent, the now familiar tang of sweat and aloe. Ginny pushed my hair back and kissed my face, and I remembered years ago when we'd sleep in her backyard tent, staying up all night telling stories about what we wanted to do. Ginny would whisper in my ear and kiss my cheek.

She slid two fingers inside me, curling them, and I gasped at the sensation. How different it was from my own hand, I thought. I wanted to drown in the feeling of Ginny, so I moved my hips to grind against her palm and it felt so good. We clung together, loving our hot and wild love making. My hand returned to her amazing boobs and kneaded them, then traced her ribs from under her boobs, down her taut body. It was amazing to feel each and every one. She pulled her wet fingers out of me and grinned. "You are the squirt queen?"

I snorted, then kneaded her boobs some more. "You literally have no idea."

Ginny bit her lip, eyes blazing. Her hand moving in slow, deliberate circles, dipping back into my pussy, again and again. I used my whole body to rub against her, meeting her, making the mattress creak and coated with sweat. I had an idea things might get intense but was amazed at how fast it all happened. Nothing to compare it this, every experience I had with a guy paled to this. This was two life long friends, two girls who shared secrets, two girls who wanted to be loved.

My brain was floating, my body a wire drawn out by Ginny's masterful hands. Suddenly her eyes showed shock, I bucked violently and a hot rush of soaking wetness was all over her hands, leg and sheets. I shuddered uncontrollably in an orgasm making me almost pass out. Ginny froze never have experienced this and thought she broke something.

When my orgasm ended, I wanted her to know how good she made me feel, so I pulled her hand out of my pussy and pressed her fingers to her lips. Ginny licked them.

"You taste like coconut," she said, a little breathless.

"That was so unbelievably, amazing. You've no idea. You've outdone yourself," I told her, my voice wobbly.

Ginny giggled, sucking her fingers clean. "I want another taste," she said and slid down to lap at my pussy but my clit was too sensitive for her to continue. I pulled her up and put her on her back. Then I slid down her body, touching everything along the way. Her body was already flushed, she trembled, and my hand found her newly shaven, pussy. I loved how her body instantly reacted, how a single touch made her arch into position, ready for sex.

"Go slow?" she said, voice tight. "This is... new."

"I know," I said. I desperately wanted to taste Ginny, because it only seemed fair for her to experience it too. More than anything I wanted to make her orgasm for me. I looked at Ginny and could see her nipples erect, two impossibly pink nubs. She spread her legs, her pussy bare, and flushed red. It was so different from my magenta meaty one, her lips soft, slick and puffy, her clit, big, round and peeking out of its hood. I kissed her there, right on the clit, and sucked it into my mouth, making her squeak and slap the bed.

"It's so fucking sensitive, it feels like a million pins," she said.

I licked up and down her slit, gentle and slow. Ginny's hips jerked hard and I had to grab her thighs. Her hands grabbed my hair tightly. I circled her clit, slow and teasing. Small droplets of moisture dripped from her pussy.

"Oh, God, Ambs, don't you dare stop. This is so good," she whimpered. I kept it slow, mostly to draw it out, partly to convince myself it was real. It was way better than any story I'd ever read or we made up.

Ginny quivered each time my tongue touched her body, her thighs threatened to trap my head. She kept urging me louder, the little helpless gasps turned into a high, breathless whine. I stopped worrying my methods, she sounded pitch perfect, I could have spent forever living off the way she said "Ambs".

I saw the agonizing pleasure in her face, Ginny's hair pasted to her forehead, mouth in disbelief, her hands grabbing the bed sheets or me. I pressed harder against her clit, and she bucked, again singing my name.

"Oooooh, my god, Amber. I'm cumming," she shrieked. "Holy, shiiiiit!"

She trapped my head between her thighs, but I kept licking, feeling her whole body tremble in pleasure but after several seconds she fell limp. I could taste her, sweet and ocean-salty, and I wanted to chase her taste forever. Her hips shivered, her hands grasping the sheets. Finally it finished, she sagged, boneless, and I slid up beside her, half my body over her. She turned into me, arms wrapped tight, her skin slicked with sweat and she cried saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." We stayed that way for minutes. My heart sounded like a drum in my chest. Ginny remained teary.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she again said. "I love you so much, it hurts," Ginny said. Her voice was bright and happy that I grinned, stunned by what I'd done.

"I just had the best stroke," she whispered, eyes wet but bright.

At some point, Ginny pulled the sheet around us, tucking her feet between my ankles and scratching me with her toenails. She still looked starstruck, not by the sex, though that was pretty spectacular but by the thing that came after, where we held each other. There wasn't a single thing I wanted to change.

"I don't think I'll ever get over that," Ginny murmured in a drunk, husky voice.

I laughed, my boobs giggling with it. "I'll clean up the mess so we can sleep."

"Don't you dare, I want to remember this moment forever," Ginny said.

I thought about everything. About my friend. About how the world was lighter with her in it. About how two girls could make a universe out of nothing but aloe, bad puns and the courage to say "I trust you." I thought about how my parents love making made our house feel safe, like a home. The way my Mom always said it was better to be honest and that it was okay to be seen as you really were. The way my Dad's confidence and appreciation of me made me strong. I thought about Ginny's hand, sticky with my wetness. I thought about the pinky promise we made. The way her eyes smiled at me even when she was being her most Ginny self. I thought about my own arms around her now, promising myself, we would always have each other.

In the morning, everything was the way it always was, except it wasn't and never would be again. Mom wondered into the kitchen, hair a disaster, coffee mug in hand, Dad off to work. I didn't know what things would look like when summer ended and Ginny left for college and I was finally left alone by the pool, with Mom's coffee, Dad's weird jokes and the silence of days spent without Ginny's sense of humor.

Ginny's final night before she head back to college, we lay in my beds, intertwined and naked, neither of us wanting to go to sleep. We didn't say "goodbye," because the word might jinx things. Instead, Ginny talking about road trips, all the long-distance relationship cliches, and even when her voice cracked and she cried, she never let on that she was scared to be away from me.

"I'll call every day, even if I'm drunk or have mono," she promised. "Especially if I'm drunk with mono. That would be very me."

Eventually Ginny whispered, "Do you think your Mom heard us the first time?"

"I hope so," I said, and we both broke up laughing.

And that was my best summer day that never really ended. We made love with each other many times that summer and each time it was amazing. We did call each other every day, sometimes twice. Ginny's texts arrived at odd hours, brimming with memes, or gripes about "crusty old" professors, existential questions about the taste of overripe cafeteria bananas, and proclamations of her college's absolute weirdness. I saved every voice message: Ginny drunk at a party, Ginny wondering where she left her red bush, Ginny crying in the library because she got a B in Bio. Some nights I would play them on a loop just to fill the house with her voice again, the way it should be.

It was a short two weeks before the first care package arrived. Inside were three things: a slinky, a photo of Ginny in her goofy university t-shirt, and a note on lined paper.

Dear Ambs,

I was going to send a lock of my red pubic hair but the health center lady said, it's technically a bio-hazard? So here's a used slinky and my favorite photo instead. I miss you more than Sour Patch Kids and I hope you haven't died from missing my face. I'm disappointed there are no dolphins nearby. What's with that?

How's your Dad's, you know what? Write soon or I'll call your Mom.

Yours (always),

Ginny

P. S. I tried to get my roommate to read our old yearbook but she said it's too weird. She doesn't "get" us.

I hope you're having the second-best day of your life, because obviously the best day was that time I made you squirt half a liter into your mattress. If you tell anyone about that, I will sue.

I love you.

Stay weird

Ginny