Baking Cookies

This story is not part of the Gabbyverse, and I won't be tempted to include it. It's a short light-hearted romp. All sexual activity described or implied involves characters who are at least 18 years old. That includes activity described in the past.

Since the story category is Lesbian Sex, I feel compelled to mention that there is a very brief het scene. There's also some infidelity.

"I just want sex. Is that so much to ask?"

I laugh. "Sign up for Tinder then, not these fancy dating apps."

"How the fuck would I explain that to Zara?" Erika asks. "She doesn't want me having a casual fling. She says that's what got me in trouble eighteen years ago."

"That's not fair," I say. As is my habit at Erika's house, I'm stretched along her sofa, while she's sprawled at the far end, mostly facing me, with my feet resting on her thighs. We're both drinking white wine - one single afternoon glass each. "You and Barry weren't even casual."

"You and I know that," Erika says, "but I've never admitted that she was an accident."

"Fair," I say. "But she's an adult now. Can't she understand that you are, too? You have your own needs."

"She worries, Tasha," Erika says. "She remembers Debacle Dave."

I was the one who named Debacle Dave. Erika's original term had been "The Dave debacle." When Zara was nine, Erika had dated Dave. They'd been together almost a year when he'd moved in. Zara was over the moon to have a father figure, and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

Until he cheated. Erika had tried to forgive him, but he wouldn't stop flirting with other women, and she finally had to throw him out. Zara, eleven at the time, was devastated. She blamed her mother, and only after a year of therapy and becoming an almost-teen did she come to understand that Erika hadn't been the problem. Since then, Erika hadn't brought any date home. Not that any relationship had lasted long enough to consider making a commitment.

"Right, Debacle Dave," I agree. "Who's probably the reason Zara has never had a boyfriend."

"Ah." Erika says, then a moment later, adds, "yeah, probably," but her face has flushed.

"Erika? What aren't you saying?"

She shakes her head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," I insist. "And she is my goddaughter. What's going on?"

"Promise you won't say anything if I tell you?" she asks. When I nod, she continues. "Seems Zara prefers girls."

"Oh? Did she come out?"

Erika shakes her head. Her face is still red.

"What gives here?" I ask. "Why are you embarrassed? Did you find her in bed with her girlfriend?"

She shakes her head again. "I don't know if she even has... one."

There's an almost imperceptible pause before the last word.

And there's a singsong quality to my voice as I ask, "What are you not telling me?"

Erika sighs. "I read her journal." She instantly raises her hands before I can get a word in. "I know! I know! Major privacy violation! Breach of trust! I didn't do it deliberately! It must have fallen out of her bag, and I didn't know what it was. It didn't have her name or any identification. I flipped through because I thought it might be her friend's or something for school. And I found all these tables."

I frown at her. Maybe it's more of a scowl.

Erika twists around to pick up her phone, then stretches to hand it to me. "I thought it might be drugs," she says. "I took photos of some of the tables so I could do some later research, then dropped the journal where I found it."

She scrolls through photos on her phone, then hands it to me. "Start there and scroll right," she says.

I don't like this. If it was drugs, she'd be in a state. Not just red faced. But if it isn't drugs, she's going to have to justify this violation.

The handwriting in the first image says "Aubs" and a date. Below that is "From Aubs 3 cookies. To Aubs 3 cookies. I gave Aubs her first ever cookie last week." There was a heart after this comment that had been carefully inked in with a red pen.

"See, I thought cookie must be code for a joint or something," Erika says. "The date is a sleepover at Aubrey's house."

"You think they smoked six joints, and her parents didn't notice?" I ask. "And why would it matter who gave them to who?"

"Right. Why would it matter who gave cookies to whom?" she asks. "It didn't make sense."

"Chocolate versus peanut butter?" I suggest with a shrug.

"Keep reading."

I swipe to read the next entry. "Liz" and date. "Sleepover at Liz's?" I ask.

"Here," Erika says.

I purse my lips. I know Erika would smell a joint. "2 cookies, one with T." There are three hearts drawn beside this. "I gave her 2 but no T."

Shaking my head I swipe again. "Mia" and a date. I don't ask where this would be located. It doesn't seem to be relevant. The code was simplified. " Mia: 4C." I assume that's three cookies from, four cookies to.

The next is "Clara". This entry has more detail than Mia's. "OMG 3 cookies in a row at once (all T)! 2 more. > Clara: at lst 3, 1T. (Go me!)."

"Aubs" again. " , 1 shared(yum)."

"Sky" appears next, "Mia" again. Then "Liz". "OMG! 7!" followed by a row of seven hearts that are filled in and have sparks drawn around them. Then "> Liz: distracted. 4? 5? 3T, fairly sure."

I swipe through the few remaining shots, then give Erika a confused look.

"I got nowhere," Erika says. "Zara was still out, so she hadn't picked up her book. I flipped backward before the tables." She sighs. "I know, that's still no excuse. The key was a sleepover with Sky. She wrote that they were kissing and Sky touched her and oh em gee, so she tried touching Sky... There was nothing else useful before the tables, but if each table is a sleepover, and they've started touching each other, what do you think it means?"

It takes me thirty seconds or more to make a connection. "Holy shit," I say. "It's the number of times they make each other come. It has to be. The hearts and oh em gees. Is T tongue?"

Erika looks acutely embarrassed again. "Must be, mustn't it?"

"So Clara ate her out and she came three times in a row? Jesus. No guy I've ever met can do more than one, if that."

"Tasha!" Erika cries out, her eyes wide. "Fuck! This is my daughter! I don't need the image of anyone eating her out!"

"Oh. Right," I say, apologetically.

"She's eighteen," Erika says. "So are her friends. They're all consenting adults, and she's not going to get pregnant. As a mother, and especially as me, I know they're safer than seeing boys. I feel like just because of that I shouldn't interfere. But Jesus, they're having sex like there's no tomorrow. And I don't know if any one of the girls is her girlfriend. It looks like they just enjoy each other. But why hasn't she come out to me? She knows I wouldn't care if she's gay."

"My guess?" I offer. "She doesn't want to risk you saying no more sleepovers. She doesn't want to lose seven orgasm nights. They may not even be gay. They just like having sex. Though if they're not gay they're in for major disappointment when they switch to guys. Seven!" I feel my breath catch. "I don't think Drake has given me that many in any single year."

"I know, right?" Erika says.

"Did she ever pick up her diary?" I ask.

"Yeah. She didn't make any comment, and neither did I. I mean, I can't, can I? So I can't interfere. But maybe her orientation is why she's so adamantly opposed to me seeing a guy."

"That and Debacle Dave," I suggest.

"And maybe he's part of the reason she hasn't trusted me enough to come out," Erika says. "But if it's just sex for her, it seems unfair that it can't be just sex for me. I wouldn't be bringing him home, would I?"

"So, change your approach."

"To what?" she asks.

"Your Tinder profile," I say. "The one you haven't created yet. Set it to 'Looking for women'."

Erika snorts. "Yeah, right. I can undo twenty years of straightness."

I smirk at her. I'm not being serious, but it seems she could use some levity. "It's just a hook up," I say. "You wouldn't be bringing her home, either, but maybe Zara won't be so set against it when you tell her. And if your daughter is a lesbian, maybe she's picked up gay vibes from her mom."

"You know. I think I would know by now," she says. "I've never even kissed a girl."

"I did, once, in high school. It was nice," I say.

"Jade. I remember. Wasn't it a dare?"

"It was. But it was before Katy Perry said it was okay to like it. I did anyway. Maybe you would, too. If you're only looking for a hookup, maybe it's worth a shot."

"I'm not going to drag some random woman out on a date when I don't think I'm even bi," Erika says.

"Put it in your profile," I suggest. I wave my arms around like a carnival barker. "Probably straight woman, not even bi, seeks hookup with woman to explore options."

Erika gives an ironic snort. "Like that would bring in the crowds."

"It might! If it turns out you're into it, who wouldn't want to be your first?" I'm still holding her phone, so I wave it before her. "Seven climaxes!"

"Right," Erika retorts. "For two very young, likely very gay girls. Seven climaxes would put me in the ER. I'd have to have a physical before I risked doing anything like that."

"We could just go to a gay bar," I say. "There's likely any number of hot young things that would want your body. Would it be so bad to kiss a few of them?"

"I don't know!" she wails. I'm not sure if she's taking my suggestion seriously, but then I'm not sure if I was making it seriously.

"I told you, it wasn't so bad. It even made me tingle a little, though I couldn't have admitted that. I think Jade was straighter than me."

"Yeah, and you were both eighteen. I'm thirty-seven. No hot lesbian's going to want me."

"Oh, she has to be hot now, does she?" I snicker. "I didn't think you'd be so choosy."

"You said she'd be hot," Erika reminds me. "And I don't think I could go through with it, even if she is."

"You still don't think you can kiss a woman?"

She shakes her head. "If it's squicky we'll both be hurt, and then I'd never be able to show my face there again."

"Since you're not showing your face in any gay bars now," I say, "that's a non-problem." A spark of mischief flares within me. I wink at her. "I could help you figure out if it's too, uh, squicky."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously as I sip my wine. "What do you mean?"

"It may have been twenty years, but I already proved I can kiss a woman without getting cooties or having to rinse with peroxide."

"That was once, and she was a skinny teenager. And..." as if she replied without thinking, and my words are only now beginning to register, "that's ewww! I'm not kissing you! You're my best friend. It would be totally weird."

"Suit yourself," I say, "but you may never know how many cookies you can eat at one time."

Erika scowls at me, her wine held in a vice-like grip. "Are you serious?"

I grin at her and empty my wine glass. "For my best friend, yes! I might need a second glass, though."

"I would definitely need a second glass," she says. "What about Drake?"

"What about Drake?" I counter. "I'm offering to lock lips for some light exposure therapy, not bone you."

"Is it called boning if it's with a woman?" Erika asks.

"I dunno. You can ask your Tinder date or the girl at the gay bar. Are you going to top up our glasses?"

She pushes my feet off her lap, then stands, drains her glass and takes mine. I don't know if she's signing off on my insane plan, but we never have a second glass in the afternoon.

When she returns from the kitchen, both glasses are refilled, and she gives the couch an awkward look.

I pat the cushion beside me. "If we're going to try this, we need to sit together," I say. "Blowing kisses to the other end of the couch isn't going to enlighten you."

She hands me a glass and sits next to me. "How did I get here from wanting to have sex with a guy?" she asks.

"More cookies equals better bang for your buck," I say. "Or maybe it's a doe you'll be banging."

She snorts nervously. "God, why am I even your friend?" She's hanging onto her wine as a shield. I sip some of mine, then reach for her glass. She resists me taking it until she's taken a mouthful first. I set her glass beside mine on the coffee table.

Then I touch beneath her chin with my index finger and turn her face to mine, before moving closer. I tighten my lips slightly, just enough for her to feel a little pressure, but otherwise neither of us reacts before I move back.

"That doesn't count as a kiss," I say.

Erika shakes her head. "I know."

I guide her back. This time I feel her lips press against mine. Her mouth is closed, as is mine. Her lips feel dry, but soft. The scent of her rose body wash tickles my nose.

"Better?" she asks.

"On a scale of zero to Jade, I'd have to say that was about one milliJade," I say.

"Don't mock me," says Erika. "This is weird."

I pick up her wine glass and hand it to her. "That's true. Do you want to stop?"

She frowns as she sips, then hands the glass back to me. "No. Weird or not, I'm not feeling any squicking. Yet." She holds the glass out to me, and I set it back down, then take a sip from my own.

My mouth touches Erika's upper lip. I turn my head to caress her lip with mine, and feel the rigidity behind it melt. I relax my own, part my lips a fraction of an inch, then suck her against me before releasing her. She makes no move to back away, so I begin slowly kissing along her upper lip.

Erika's mouth softens further. I can feel her lips part slightly, so I toy with the one between mine, drawing it slightly into my mouth, rolling it between my lips and releasing it.

When I lean back, Erika's face seems slightly flushed, and she wears a soft smile. "So, not so bad?" I ask.

She gives her head a quick shake. "Not so far," she says. "How many Jades?"

"Hmm. I'll say fifty milliJades. We should work up to at least a half Jade. Maybe even a full Jade before you're ready for the gay bar."

"That's still my goal, is it?" She reaches over me to take her glass. "If we're both going to the bar, what are you going to be doing while I'm swarmed by hot lesbians?"

"Drinking, watching," I say. "Taking photos, maybe?"

"Not experimenting yourself?"

I sip a little more wine. "I'm married. You're the single lady here."

She leans over to place her glass back on the table. The scent of rose surrounds her again, but there's another scent that's uniquely hers. A scent that I still associate with hugs when she was sick, or when she was hugely pregnant, or when I was at her parents place, tiny Zara sleeping in her little bed, and Erika verging on panic at how busy and unforgiving life would be. I catch her hand. She gives me a curious look as I squeeze and release it.

"Ready?"

She nods.

Her mouth is firm again, relaxing only when I kiss her lip, but softening more this time. Her lower lip caresses mine, and I lean forward, our lips interleaving. Then I move a hand to the back of her neck and press myself closer, suckling her upper lip.

She relaxes further, and I feel a touch of heat in my chest as she toys with my lower lip. I can feel her breath as her lips part further. It hitches slightly as I take her lip further in, brushing my tongue against it. The heat spreads and my heart seems to be beating a little faster.

This time Erika breaks the kiss. Her breathing seems a little faster than normal, and her eyes have darkened. I drop my hand from her neck.

"Still okay?" I ask.

She nods. "Rating?"

"Hmm." I smirk at her. "The dare was a full minute of French kissing. Tongue and everything. So even though this was more imaginative I can only give it three hundred milliJades."

Erika's brows lower into a V. "So we have to French kiss?"

I shrug. "Do you want to wait until your lesbian admirer has her tongue down your throat to decide you don't like it after all?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd know before it gets to that point," Erika says, "but okay, for the full rating I guess we can't stop yet."

She parts her lips, probably expecting me to hook her up with the Jade experience, but I avoid that, suckling her lip again, teasing her until I feel she's ready. She closes her mouth around me and I cautiously take in more of her, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her close. Her breasts brush mine as the intensity of the kiss slowly grows.

The heat that started in my chest has seeped out, becoming a tingling much lower. I draw my lips back from hers, tilting my head to meet her mouth again. A soft moan escapes her throat. I probe with my tongue. A moment later, hers meets mine and she melts into my arms.

Erika's jaw rocks, and my face moves against hers as I groan with a sudden surge of arousal. Just as I do, I hear the door latch move. Instantly, a red-faced Erika is sitting upright against the back of the couch. I'm a little slower to react, but not by much, as Zara pushes open the door.

She's the image of Erika at her age, before she began to show. Tall, slender, with long dark hair and dark eyes. She glances quickly between us. If she's not used to seeing us sitting so close, she makes no comment.

"Hey Mom! Hi, Auntie Tasha! When's dinner?"

"Uh... about an hour," Erika says. I wonder if Zara will notice her flush or her labored breathing.

"Cool."

Then she's bounding up the stairs, while her mother and I share a guilty look.

"One point five Jades," I whisper.

Erika laughs.

I'm sitting in my usual position, my feet draped over her thighs, drinking wine. It's been a week since we kissed.

"What date?" Erika asks. She looks horrified. "I don't remember agreeing to a date. With you?"

"Yeah, at the gay bar. I ordered a tee shirt for you. It says 'Rainbow Science Experiment' with skittles colors."

"You did not!" she yelps.

"I totally did. I got myself one that says 'I'm a best friend, not an experiment,' with a drawing of a beagle. They should arrive this week. Also, I think you need more therapy."

"What? Why? You rated me at one-and-a-half Jades!"

"That was the quality of the kiss," I say. "Which has nothing to do with your perceived squickiness. We were interrupted before you could gauge your reaction. If anything, Zara barging in probably left you traumatized. So the hot lesbian at the gay bar is going to pick you up, and as soon as you start smooching you're going to scream, 'No! She can't see us like this!' and bolt. And I'll still be there, looking at the Erika-shaped hole in the door and wondering how to console a grieving suitor."

"Tasha, you bitch, are you trying to manipulate me into kissing you again?"

"Damn right," I say. "That was a good kiss! And it ended too suddenly."

"It was, wasn't it?" Erika agrees, smugly. "I guess I've still got it."

"It takes two, you know," I object. "I deserve some of the credit, so I should get some of the reward."

She purses her lips, then takes a sip of wine before holding her glass out to me. I have to stretch to take it, of course, but after setting both glasses down, I reach back for her hand. She gives me a puzzled look, then takes my hand. Gripping hers, I tug, and she collapses onto me, legs trapped under my hips until I grasp her by the shoulders and pull her onto me. She looks both offended and amused.

"When's Zara due home?" I ask.

"She's with my parents for the weekend. She won't be barging through the door."

"This time."

"Right, this time. I would not let you get me into this position if she was likely to return."

"But now you're there...?"

"Well, it was a good kiss," she says, then plants her lips on mine.

Returning the kiss, gently, I wrap my arms around her back. There isn't a good way for her to do the same, so she folds her arms against my shoulders, lifting her face to mesh perfectly with mine.

We keep the kiss slow and tender for a long time. Erika's reasons for doing this are her own, but mine are mostly that I don't want it to overwhelm our friendship. She clearly enjoyed the last kiss, as did I, but it's strange enough just to enjoy my friend this way. I don't want affection to spiral into some kind of lust monster. Hell, we're both straight.

Aren't we?

If I'm straight, why is the caress of her tongue against mine making my breath slowly become more and more ragged? Why are my nipples becoming so very hard within my bra? Hard and sensitive, so that every time Erika's body moves, the brushing of my bra against my hardened nubs sends spikes of arousal down to my clit.

My hands explore the small of her back, sometimes venturing out over her butt, always moving back to her hips or her waist.

Occasionally she breaks the kiss and gives me a look that seems vaguely puzzled, but then just chooses another angle and moves back in. Each time I think she's going to stop, but she doesn't.

After thirty minutes of this, she moves her arms to wrap around my head, holding my face to hers. Since they're no longer lifting her face above mine, her chest loses its support, and her breasts crush mine. Hers grew with pregnancy and childbirth and didn't shrink much after she was done breastfeeding, even though she lost most of the baby weight.

Now, of course, in our upper thirties, we've both gained more weight than our tyrant doctors would like, but I don't feel she's lost an ounce of her beauty. I never have. Even though I'm straight I know what a lovely woman she is.

We resume kissing, and I begin to realize that the warmth I'm feeling in my lower region is the damp heat of my slick panties. My clit has come out to visit, and is basking in the wetness it has found. There are soft sounds floating from deep within Erika's throat, and, it seems, also from mine.

I draw my face back and press it more firmly to hers, moving it around, capturing parts of her lips to suckle hard, which makes Erika moan. Then I trap her tongue and suck it between my lips, running mine over the captured tip. Her hips push forward, increasing the pressure of her body against mine.

This time when we break the kiss, we're both breathing heavily, our eyes locked on the other's. Our lips join again, and I draw my hands up her body and press my fingers into the sides of her breasts. She gasps and nips at my teeth, before finally raising her head.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Touching you," I murmur. "Don't you like it?"

"Tasha..." she groans, but doesn't stop me as I take advantage of her raised chest to slip fingers and thumb around the tips of her breasts and pinch. "Aaah..." she moans.

"Take off your shirt," I hiss.

"Tasha! No!" she manages.

"I want to kiss your titties," I whisper. "You've always had the most perfect titties."

"Oh God, Tash, you can't!"

"I can't what?" I ask, my tone cajoling. "I can't want to? Or you don't want me to? I do want to, Erika, and I can tell you want me to."

She says nothing else, but suddenly she's tugging off her shirt and unfastening her bra.

Erika's areole are wide and heavily pebbled, her nipples broad and hard, their color a warm rose. I slide her up my body and fasten my lips to a breast.

She moans loudly, and her breathing is fast. I close my hands over her ass, which is firm and vibrant as I squeeze. Her hips push her body into mine, then shift into a slow rocking motion as I knead and suckle her breast.

I move to the other breast, and as I lick her nipple she lowers her face and nips at my ear. I'm so horny now that I feel I'm in danger of losing myself in her.

"Stop," she manages to groan. "Tasha, stop."

For a moment I ignore her, but there's still a trace of sanity trying to exert itself within me. I kiss her nipple one more time, then turn my head back to look at her.

"We can't do this," she says. "I can't do this. You're married, and you're my friend."

She pushes herself into a sitting position, squatting on my thighs, her breasts free and swaying. I want her body like I've never wanted anything in my life. But that can't be true, can it?

"I'm attracted to you!" I blurt out, as the realization hits me. "God! I really am!"

"You think?" There's humor in her tone, along with regret. "We've been making out for over an hour, and you just decided that?" She brushes her dark hair behind her shoulder.

Nervously, I ask, "What about you?"

"No question," she breathes. "I'm going to need time to process that, you know? I want you naked and in my arms. After twenty-odd years of friendship, that's..."

"A shock," I finish for her. "Yeah, me too."

She picks up her bra, then tosses it back onto the couch. Instead, she slips her shirt on without it, then she climbs off my legs. I swivel around to sit up.

"Are you upset?" I ask.

She thinks about that for longer than I like, but shakes her head. "No. Just... out of my depth. I need to think about this."

"Yeah," I agree. "We both should. I'll leave for now."

So Drake is as shocked as me when I drag him upstairs, get him naked, and ride his cock to two of the best climaxes of our marriage. After he spends himself inside me, he wraps his hands behind his head and gives me an arrogant look.

I'm disgusted with myself, but my body needed the release, and I couldn't get myself off while he would be wondering what I was doing.

He still hasn't come down from his virility high when I spring the news on him. "I'm filing for divorce."

He's dumbfounded. Not surprising. "What? Why?"

"We haven't been working out for years, Drake. You know that. We both need our freedom back. I don't hate you. I know you don't hate me. But lack of hate isn't a basis for staying together. I've been seeing a lawyer, and the papers are being filed today. I'm happy to split everything down the middle. If you don't contest it, it will be cheaper for both of us, but you need an attorney."

"Well, fuck." He stares at me. "Then what was last weekend?"

"Last hurrah?" I suggest. "Neither of us was disappointed. That's as good a way to go out as I can think of."

"Is there someone else?" He seems despondent, not angry. I'm not sure which I'd prefer. He's never been a violent person, so maybe anger would be better to help him deal with his situation.

"No," I say. It's true, if only technically. I don't know if Erika and I are even friends anymore. She's been very cagey in replies to my texts. She hasn't cut me off completely, which is promising. Either way, it's time. Drake and I should have split at least five years ago. If he has an affair, or even if he already has had one, I won't feel bad, and I hope he doesn't.

"So, that's it?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "You know it's overdue. We have no kids, and you're young enough to find someone who makes you happy."

That's when she replies with an invitation to talk.

Plus, I find myself wondering what would happen if I caressed her thighs with my feet, through her yoga pants, maybe letting them drift higher and press against her...

I hope my face isn't betraying my feelings right now.

"What do you mean your divorce wasn't caused by recent events?"

Straight to the heart. She's never before been a confrontational person, at least with me. I'd really like to be holding a glass of wine right now, but she made us coffee, and I already set the mug down on the table.

"I mean, recent events played a part," I say, "but I'm not divorcing him because you said you wouldn't kiss me since I was married. It's not because I'm attracted to you, but because my attraction showed me that I've never been attracted to him. Sex meets a need, nothing more. Until a few weeks back, I'd pushed Jade out of my mind. Now I remember how disappointed I was that Jade laughed off our dare. It wasn't long after the kiss that I hooked up with Drake

"Now I can see that the core truth of our unsatisfying marriage is that I could never be what he needed. Because he could never be what I needed."

"Because he's a man?" Erika suggests.

"And it's taken me twenty-plus years to understand that about myself. So I understand if me being attracted to you makes you uncomfortable, or squicky, but I'm still up for visiting the gay bar. Because I think that's where I belong."

She gives me a half-grin. "No one belongs at a bar, Tash. We may both need a new social group, but there have to be better places to find one."

I pick up on the word instantly. "Both?"

"I felt bad about you going straight to divorce after what I said, Tasha," she says. "I didn't want you to toss your marriage aside because I don't want to make out with a married woman, but it sounds like you've thought about it, and you needed to let go."

I grin. "So how do you feel about making out with a married woman who's on the path to divorce?"

She returns my grin. "Do you want wine?"

I laugh. "God, yes."

"Uh, where's Zara?" I ask when Erika handed me a glass.

"Camping with a friend," she says, sitting beside me instead of at the far end of the couch. "And her parents, so I doubt she'll be baking any cookies."

"And if she can on rocky ground, more power to her?" I suggest, raising my glass in salute. "Remember, they must already have figured out how to be really quiet, or you'd be hearing from other parents."

"Don't remind me. I still don't know how to feel about it. I don't care that she's gay - if she is - but so much sex?"

"Are you worried or jealous?"

Erika snorts her wine and has to set her glass down to deal with her coughing fit. "Good question," she says. "And maybe the other parents do know, but are as conflicted as I am."

"Zara is a very smart girl, and what she's doing is about the least risky teen sexploration she could be involved with, as long as the group is closed. Next year she'll be in college, and it would be good for her to know herself when she gets there."

"Ugh, you're probably right," Erika says. She takes a sip of her wine. "I'm glad you're here to keep me grounded."

"Baby, that's the farthest thing from what I want to do to you," I say. I set my glass down, then catch the twinkle in her eyes as I move my lips to hers.

Though our kiss begins delicately once more, there's an undercurrent of passion from the start, and it doesn't take many minutes until we're each groaning into the other's mouth.

I can't deny my need to touch her, and soon I'm crushing my palm around her right breast, while the encouraging sounds she's making become more intense. I yank her loose tee shirt over her head, losing myself for a moment in the sight of her breasts rippling in the low bra. I lower my face to them, resisting the urge to motorboat her, then reach around to unsnap her bra one-handed.

Pushing Erika to the back of her couch I worship her wide nipples, looking up into her flushed face. Her hands unbutton my blouse by touch, since her view is blocked by my face and her boob, then unfasten my bra. She pushes me away from her breast to take them off together. Suddenly she's raised me in her lap and for the first time, she's the one suckling.

And, oh my God, my body has never felt like this. I'm tingling everywhere, and my panties are soaked. At no time has Drake, nor anyone else, made me horny like this. Her hands are squeezing my ass, and I'm regretting how thick the denim of my jeans is.

"Let's go upstairs," she murmurs, breaking the kiss.

My excitement, as high as it already is, ratchets up a few notches. "I've never heard a better idea in my life," I say.

She grins at the clearly ridiculous superlative, then grabs her clothing and heads up to her room, breasts swaying freely. Of course, I'm behind her, so my view is spoiled. She has left her wine, so I pick it up, toss my bra and blouse over my arm, then take my own glass, too.

Erika shakes her head. Her own yoga pants aren't much of an encumbrance, but she takes them off anyway, and when we're lying against each other, we're both only wearing panties. Hers are black, and though my pale pink ones make my arousal obvious, the wet patch on her black undies is every bit as big as mine.

I thread my thigh between hers, and we resume our interrupted kiss. Her hard nipples sink into the soft surface of my breasts, and I love the charge of arousal from her skin against mine. Until she grasps my breasts to play with them as I did with hers. Then the charge becomes a surge of desire in my chest.

Breaking the kiss, I explore her neck and shoulder with my lips and teeth. Everything I do makes her writhe and groan, and it's hard for me to associate the passionate woman beneath me with my friend of two decades. Except that I'm beginning to suspect that part of our closeness has always been that there was a wisp of passion connecting us.

I cock my head to the side and bite her neck, toward the front, right where it curves into her shoulders. She shudders again, and I can no longer wait. I push my fingers between our bodies and begin to stroke the damp front of her black undies. She moans, and bites me, too. Not enough to break the skin, just enough that her teeth drag along my sensitive neck, beneath my ear.

She is clearly every bit as horny as I am. But I had my fingers against her pussy first, and I slide down her body, pressing my advantage by licking her breasts.

"Oh, shit," Erika moans. "Shit, Tash, no one has ever made me feel like this."

"Same, baby," I murmur around her breast.

I fumble around over her panties. I haven't seen her down there, but I know where everything is supposed to be, and the warm moisture tells me she's turned on enough that I'm probably not risking irritation if I locate her clit now, so I continue poking until I find a small hard bump beneath her mons. When I circle it, she cries out.

I think I'm supposed to draw out her pleasure for a better result, but I want her to come for me Right Now. I want there to be no doubt that we belong to each other. So I rub the little bump while I suck hard at the delicious firm nipple between my teeth.

Erika's body rolls from side to side beneath me. Then her back arches and she bucks against me before she cries out. I feel the spasms of her climax ripple through her body, and she moans my name.

When her breathing begins to smooth out, she opens her eyes and gives me a look of wonder. "My God, Tash," she says.

She rocks her hips as she presses into me, her breasts engulfing mine. She doesn't break the kiss as my excitement grows. Her hip presses against my pussy as her fingers begin to pump.

I'm gasping into the kiss, her heavy breasts mashing mine as she thrusts, her fingers curled inside me, taking my arousal to heights it's never reached. She pries her lips from mine and whispers, "I want you to come, Tash. I want you to come for me."

"Mahhh..." I groan. "I'm... I'm... almost there, baby."

I see her grin before her lips collide with mine and I close my eyes, feeling the rise of my need become unstoppable. I topple over the edge, moaning into the kiss as my body convulses, delicious pulsing pleasure filling me.

We kiss, languidly now, for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before I sense her breathing becoming more labored. I roll her onto her back, and explore her pussy with my fingers, then begin to push them inside her.

There's a click and the sound of the front door hitting its stop. Erika's eyes grow wide as we hear footsteps on the stairs. Then I've rolled off her, and both of us are sliding under the covers at ludicrous speed. We both pull the sheet up to our necks.

"Hey Mom," comes Zara's voice.

"Hi, sweetie!" she calls out, sounding panicked. "Don't come in!"

There's a mumble and a laugh from outside the door. Zara isn't alone.

"Alright, Mom," she says. "I won't come in. Could you come downstairs soon? I need to talk to you."

"Alright, sweetie," she says.

There's some more giggling outside. I'm beginning to breathe a sigh of relief. She doesn't know that her mother isn't alone.

"Hey, Auntie Tasha," the voice from outside adds, almost as an afterthought.

Well, fuck.

"Hi, Zara," I call out.

"You come down too, Auntie Tasha."

"Alright, sweetie," I reply. Then I lift the sheet and pull it over my face.

I follow her downstairs. It feels like marching to the scaffold, but when Zara sees us, she quickly pulls her hand away from the other girl who's standing with her. Then, at a scowl from her friend, she reaches out to take her hand again.

The other girl has light brown hair and stands a few inches short of Zara, with more prominent breasts and hips than those of Erika's daughter.

"What are you doing home?" Erika asks.

"Hey, Mom," Zara says. "Uh. This is Aubrey." Her face is very pink. "She's, uh, she's my girlfriend."

"Aubs bakes the best cookies," I remember. Though she isn't the one who bakes seven at a time. Or "three in a row, all T!"

"Uh, hello, Ms. Reeves," says the shorter girl, who's now as red as Zara. "And, uh..."

"Just call me Aunt Tasha, like Zara," I say.

"Thank you, Aunt Tasha," she says. "Dad got called into work. We couldn't go camping, so we came to talk to you. Zara..." she adds, but her girlfriend takes over.

"I've wanted to tell you that we're dating," Zara says. "I've been worried you'd be upset, but, uh..." She glances between Erika and me.

Her mother is still frowning, probably still in surprise at the unexpected interruption, but as soon as she hears this her expression clears. She moves up to her daughter and pulls her into a huge hug. A moment later she reaches out to Aubrey, too, and the relief on both girls' faces becomes a glow of affection and pride. "Oh, sweetie," she says. "Of course I'm not upset with you." She glances at me. "You may not be the only girls who like girls around here."

"I know, Mom," she says, breaking from her mother's hug to embrace me. I also include her girlfriend. "If you're trying to keep your girlfriend hidden, you shouldn't put on lipstick before you kiss her."

She looks into my face. Without thought I reach to touch my lips. "Not today, Auntie Tasha," she says, stepping out of my arms, and grinning cheekily at me. "A few weeks ago when you were sitting on the couch."

"Busted," I say.

"Don't spread it around, please, Zara," my friend says. "Tasha's getting a divorce, but it isn't through yet."

"Ooh! What's the secret worth to you, Mom?" the little minx asks.

"It's worth not hanging you from your room by your ankles, daughter of mine."

"Ooh, mean." She turns to me. "Are you going to move in?" she asks.

My face flames. "We, uh, haven't talked about anything like that," I say. "I'm not sure your mom could stand having two girls around all the time."

With a perfectly straight face, Zara says, "You should bake her some cookies. Then she'll never let you leave."

I hope my face remains as impassive as hers. Erika is struggling, but I think we both manage to hide that we know her code.

Aubrey, on the other hand, turns red. The code must be common knowledge within their group, not just confined to Zara's journal.

As Zara takes Aubrey's hand, I move to Erika's side and slip my hand around her back. "That's a great idea, Zara. I'll be sure to bake her lots of cookies."

I feel Erica twitch, but her face shows only affection. Zara grins at us, and we all politely ignore her girlfriend covering her mouth, trying not to explode with laughter.

This story is not part of the Gabbyverse, and I won't be tempted to include it. It's a short light-hearted romp. All sexual activity described or implied involves characters who are at least 18 years old. That includes in the past, around Erika's pregnancy and Tasha's kiss.

Since the story category is Lesbian Sex, I feel compelled to mention that there is a very brief het scene. There's also some infidelity.

"I just want sex. Is that so much to ask?"

I laugh. "Sign up for Tinder then, not these fancy dating apps."

"How the fuck would I explain that to Zara?" Erika asks. "She doesn't want me having a casual fling. She says that's what got me in trouble eighteen years ago."

"That's not fair," I say. As is my habit at Erika's house, I'm stretched along her sofa, while she's sprawled at the far end, mostly facing me, with my feet resting on her thighs. We're both drinking white wine - one single afternoon glass each. "You and Barry weren't even casual."

"You and I know that," Erika says, "but I've never admitted that she was an accident."

"Fair," I say. "But she's an adult now. Can't she understand that you are, too? You have your own needs."

"She worries, Tasha," Erika says. "She remembers Debacle Dave."

I was the one who named Debacle Dave. Erika's original term had been "The Dave debacle." When Zara was nine, Erika had dated Dave. They'd been together almost a year when he'd moved in. Zara was over the moon to have a father figure, and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

Until he cheated. Erika had tried to forgive him, but he wouldn't stop flirting with other women, and she finally had to throw him out. Zara, eleven at the time, was devastated. She blamed her mother, and only after a year of therapy and becoming an almost-teen did she come to understand that Erika hadn't been the problem. Since then, Erika hadn't brought any date home. Not that any relationship had lasted long enough to consider making a commitment.

"Right, Debacle Dave," I agree. "Who's probably the reason Zara has never had a boyfriend."

"Ah." Erika says, then a moment later, adds, "yeah, probably," but her face has flushed.

"Erika? What aren't you saying?"

She shakes her head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," I insist. "And she is my goddaughter. What's going on?"

"Promise you won't say anything if I tell you?" she asks. When I nod, she continues. "Seems Zara prefers girls."

"Oh? Did she come out?"

Erika shakes her head. Her face is still red.

"What gives here?" I ask. "Why are you embarrassed? Did you find her in bed with her girlfriend?"

She shakes her head again. "I don't know if she even has... one."

There's an almost imperceptible pause before the last word.

And there's a singsong quality to my voice as I ask, "What are you not telling me?"

Erika sighs. "I read her journal." She instantly raises her hands before I can get a word in. "I know! I know! Major privacy violation! Breach of trust! I didn't do it deliberately! It must have fallen out of her bag, and I didn't know what it was. It didn't have her name or any identification. I flipped through because I thought it might be her friend's or something for school. And I found all these tables."

I frown at her. Maybe it's more of a scowl.

Erika twists around to pick up her phone, then stretches to hand it to me. "I thought it might be drugs," she says. "I took photos of some of the tables so I could do some later research, then dropped the journal where I found it."

She scrolls through photos on her phone, then hands it to me. "Start there and scroll right," she says.

I don't like this. If it was drugs, she'd be in a state. Not just red faced. But if it isn't drugs, she's going to have to justify this violation.

The handwriting in the first image says "Aubs" and a date. Below that is "From Aubs 3 cookies. To Aubs 3 cookies. I gave Aubs her first ever cookie last week." There was a heart after this comment that had been carefully inked in with a red pen.

"See, I thought cookie must be code for a joint or something," Erika says. "The date is a sleepover at Aubrey's house."

"You think they smoked six joints, and her parents didn't notice?" I ask. "And why would it matter who gave them to who?"

"Right. Why would it matter who gave cookies to whom?" she asks. "It didn't make sense."

"Chocolate versus peanut butter?" I suggest with a shrug.

"Keep reading."

I swipe to read the next entry. "Liz" and date. "Sleepover at Liz's?" I ask.

"Here," Erika says.

I purse my lips. I know Erika would smell a joint. "2 cookies, one with T." There are three hearts drawn beside this. "I gave her 2 but no T."

Shaking my head I swipe again. "Mia" and a date. I don't ask where this would be located. It doesn't seem to be relevant. The code was simplified. " Mia: 4C." I assume that's three cookies from, four cookies to.

The next is Clara. This entry has more detail than Mia's. "OMG 3 cookies in a row at once (all T)! 2 more. > Clara: at lst 3, 1T. (Go me!)."

"Aubs" again. " , 1 shared(yum)."

"Sky" appears next, "Mia" again. Then "Liz". "OMG! 7!" followed by a row of seven hearts that are filled in and have sparks drawn around them. Then "> Liz: distracted. 4? 5? 3T, fairly sure."

I swipe through the few remaining shots, then give Erika a confused look.

"I got nowhere," Erika says. "Zara was still out, so she hadn't picked up her book. I flipped backward before the tables." She sighs. "I know, that's still no excuse. The key was a sleepover with Sky. She wrote that they were kissing and Sky touched her and oh em gee, so she tried touching Sky... There was nothing else useful before the tables, but if each table is a sleepover, and they've started touching each other, what do you think it means?"

It takes me thirty seconds or more to make a connection. "Holy shit," I say. "It's the number of times they make each other come. It has to be. The hearts and oh em gees. Is T tongue?"

Erika looks acutely embarrassed again. "Must be, mustn't it?"

"So Clara ate her out and she came three times in a row? Jesus. No guy I've ever met can do more than one, if that."

"Tasha!" Erika cries out, her eyes wide. "Fuck! This is my daughter! I don't need the image of anyone eating her out!"

"Oh. Right," I say, apologetically.

"She's eighteen," Erika says. "So are her friends. They're all consenting adults, and she's not going to get pregnant. As a mother, and especially as me, I know they're safer than seeing boys. I feel like just because of that I shouldn't interfere. But Jesus, they're having sex like there's no tomorrow. And I don't know if any one of the girls is her girlfriend. It looks like they just enjoy each other. But why hasn't she come out to me? She knows I wouldn't care if she's gay."

"My guess?" I offer. "She doesn't want to risk you saying no more sleepovers. She doesn't want to lose seven orgasm nights. They may not even be gay. They just like having sex. Though if they're not gay they're in for major disappointment when they switch to guys. Seven!" I feel my breath catch. "I don't think Drake has given me that many in any single year."

"I know, right?" Erika says.

"Did she ever pick up her diary?" I ask.

"Yeah. She didn't make any comment, and neither did I. I mean, I can't, can I? So I can't interfere. But maybe her orientation is why she's so adamantly opposed to me seeing a guy."

"That and Debacle Dave," I suggest.

"And maybe he's part of the reason she hasn't trusted me enough to come out," Erika says. "But if it's just sex for her, it seems unfair that it can't be just sex for me. I wouldn't be bringing him home, would I?"

"So, change your approach."

"To what?" she asks.

"Your Tinder profile," I say. "The one you haven't created yet. Set it to 'Looking for women'."

Erika snorts. "Yeah, right. I can undo twenty years of straightness."

I smirk at her. I'm not being serious, but it seems she could use some levity. "It's just a hook up," I say. "You wouldn't be bringing her home, either, but maybe Zara won't be so set against it when you tell her. And if your daughter is a lesbian, maybe she's picked up gay vibes from her mom."

"You know. I think I would know by now," she says. "I've never even kissed a girl."

"I did, once, in high school. It was nice," I say.

"Jade. I remember. Wasn't it a dare?"

"It was. But it was before Katy Perry said it was okay to like it. I did anyway. Maybe you would, too. If you're only looking for a hookup, maybe it's worth a shot."

"I'm not going to drag some random woman out on a date when I don't think I'm even bi," Erika says.

"Put it in your profile," I suggest. I wave my arms around like a carnival barker. "Probably straight woman, not even bi, seeks hookup with woman to explore options."

Erika gives an ironic snort. "Like that would bring in the crowds."

"It might! If it turns out you're into it, who wouldn't want to be your first?" I'm still holding her phone, so I wave it before her. "Seven climaxes!"

"Right," Erika retorts. "For two very young, likely very gay girls. Seven climaxes would put me in the ER. I'd have to have a physical before I risked doing anything like that."

"We could just go to a gay bar," I say. "There's likely any number of hot young things that would want your body. Would it be so bad to kiss a few of them?"

"I don't know!" she wails. I'm not sure if she's taking my suggestion seriously, but then I'm not sure if I was making it seriously.

"I told you, it wasn't so bad. It even made me tingle a little, though I couldn't have admitted that. I think Jade was straighter than me."

"Yeah, and you were both eighteen. I'm thirty-seven. No hot lesbian's going to want me."

"Oh, she has to be hot now, does she?" I snicker. "I didn't think you'd be so choosy."

"You said she'd be hot," Erika reminds me. "And I don't think I could go through with it, even if she is."

"You still don't think you can kiss a woman?"

She shakes her head. "If it's squicky we'll both be hurt, and then I'd never be able to show my face there again."

"Since you're not showing your face in any gay bars now," I say, "that's a non-problem." A spark of mischief flares within me. I wink at her. "I could help you figure out if it's too, uh, squicky."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously as I sip my wine. "What do you mean?"

"It may have been twenty years, but I already proved I can kiss a woman without getting cooties or having to rinse with peroxide."

"That was once, and she was a skinny teenager. And..." as if she replied without thinking, and my words are only now beginning to register, "that's ewww! I'm not kissing you! You're my best friend. It would be totally weird."

"Suit yourself," I say, "but you may never know how many cookies you can eat at one time."

Erika scowls at me, her wine held in a vice-like grip. "Are you serious?"

I grin at her and empty my wine glass. "For my best friend, yes! I might need a second glass, though."

"I would definitely need a second glass," she says. "What about Drake?"

"What about Drake?" I counter. "I'm offering to lock lips for some light exposure therapy, not bone you."

"Is it called boning if it's with a woman?" Erika asks.

"I dunno. You can ask your Tinder date or the girl at the gay bar. Are you going to top up our glasses?"

She pushes my feet off her lap, then stands, drains her glass and takes mine. I don't know if she's signing off on my insane plan, but we never have a second glass in the afternoon.

When she returns from the kitchen, both glasses are refilled, and she gives the couch an awkward look.

I pat the cushion beside me. "If we're going to try this, we need to sit together," I say. "Blowing kisses to the other end of the couch isn't going to enlighten you."

She hands me a glass and sits next to me. "How did I get here from wanting to have sex with a guy?" she asks.

"More cookies equals better bang for your buck," I say. "Or maybe it's a doe you'll be banging."

She snorts nervously. "God, why am I even your friend?" She's hanging onto her wine as a shield. I sip some of mine, then reach for her glass. She resists me taking it until she's taken a mouthful first. I set her glass beside mine on the coffee table.

Then I touch beneath her chin with my index finger and turn her face to mine, before moving closer. I tighten my lips slightly, just enough for her to feel a little pressure, but otherwise neither of us reacts before I move back.

"That doesn't count as a kiss," I say.

Erika shakes her head. "I know."

I guide her back. This time I feel her lips press against mine. Her mouth is closed, as is mine. Her lips feel dry, but soft. The scent of her rose body wash tickles my nose.

"Better?" she asks.

"On a scale of zero to Jade, I'd have to say that was about one milliJade," I say.

"Don't mock me," says Erika. "This is weird."

I pick up her wine glass and hand it to her. "That's true. Do you want to stop?"

She frowns as she sips, then hands the glass back to me. "No. Weird or not, I'm not feeling any squicking. Yet." She holds the glass out to me, and I set it back down, then take a sip from my own.

My mouth touches Erika's upper lip. I turn my head to caress her lip with mine, and feel the rigidity behind it melt. I relax my own, part my lips a fraction of an inch, then suck her against me before releasing her. She makes no move to back away, so I begin slowly kissing along her upper lip.

Erika's mouth softens further. I can feel her lips part slightly, so I toy with the one between mine, drawing it slightly into my mouth, rolling it between my lips and releasing it.

When I lean back, Erika's face seems slightly flushed, and she wears a soft smile. "So, not so bad?" I ask.

She gives her head a quick shake. "Not so far," she says. "How many Jades?"

"Hmm. I'll say fifty milliJades. We should work up to at least a half Jade. Maybe even a full Jade before you're ready for the gay bar."

"That's still my goal, is it?" She reaches over me to take her glass. "If we're both going to the bar, what are you going to be doing while I'm swarmed by hot lesbians?"

"Drinking, watching," I say. "Taking photos, maybe?"

"Not experimenting yourself?"

I sip a little more wine. "I'm married. You're the single lady here."

She leans over to place her glass back on the table. The scent of rose surrounds her again, but there's another scent that's uniquely hers. A scent that I still associate with hugs when she was sick, or when she was hugely pregnant, or when I was at her parents place, tiny Zara sleeping in her little bed, and Erika verging on panic at how busy and unforgiving life would be. I catch her hand. She gives me a curious look as I squeeze and release it.

"Ready?"

She nods.

Her mouth is firm again, relaxing only when I kiss her lip, but softening more this time. Her lower lip caresses mine, and I lean forward, our lips interleaving. Then I move a hand to the back of her neck and press myself closer, suckling her upper lip.

She relaxes further, and I feel a touch of heat in my chest as she toys with my lower lip. I can feel her breath as her lips part further. It hitches slightly as I take her lip further in, brushing my tongue against it. The heat spreads and my heart seems to be beating a little faster.

This time Erika breaks the kiss. Her breathing seems a little faster than normal, and her eyes have darkened. I drop my hand from her neck.

"Still okay?" I ask.

She nods. "Rating?"

"Hmm." I smirk at her. "The dare was a full minute of French kissing. Tongue and everything. So even though this was more imaginative I can only give it three hundred milliJades."

Erika's brows lower into a V. "So we have to French kiss?"

I shrug. "Do you want to wait until your lesbian admirer has her tongue down your throat to decide you don't like it after all?"

"I'm pretty sure I'd know before it gets to that point," Erika says, "but okay, for the full rating I guess we can't stop yet."

She parts her lips, probably expecting me to hook her up with the Jade experience, but I avoid that, suckling her lip again, teasing her until I feel she's ready. She closes her mouth around me and I cautiously take in more of her, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her close. Her breasts brush mine as the intensity of the kiss slowly grows.

The heat that started in my chest has seeped out, becoming a tingling much lower. I draw my lips back from hers, tilting my head to meet her mouth again. A soft moan escapes her throat. I probe with my tongue. A moment later, hers meets mine and she melts into my arms.

Erika's jaw rocks, and my face moves against hers as I groan with a sudden surge of arousal. Just as I do, I hear the door latch move. Instantly, a red-faced Erika is sitting upright against the back of the couch. I'm a little slower to react, but not by much, as Zara pushes open the door.

She's the image of Erika at her age, before she began to show. Tall, slender, with long dark hair and dark eyes. She glances quickly between us. If she's not used to seeing us sitting so close, she makes no comment.

"Hey Mom! Hi, Auntie Tasha! When's dinner?"

"Uh... about an hour," Erika says. I wonder if Zara will notice her flush or her labored breathing.

"Cool."

Then she's bounding up the stairs, while her mother and I share a guilty look.

"One point five Jades," I whisper.

Erika laughs.

I'm sitting in my usual position, my feet draped over her thighs, drinking wine. It's been a week since we kissed.

"What date?" Erika asks. She looks horrified. "I don't remember agreeing to a date. With you?"

"Yeah, at the gay bar. I ordered a tee shirt for you. It says 'Rainbow Science Experiment' with skittles colors."

"You did not!" she yelps.

"I totally did. I got myself one that says 'I'm a best friend, not an experiment,' with a drawing of a beagle. They should arrive this week. Also, I think you need more therapy."

"What? Why? You rated me at one-and-a-half Jades!"

"That was the quality of the kiss," I say. "Which has nothing to do with your perceived squickiness. We were interrupted before you could gauge your reaction. If anything, Zara barging in probably left you traumatized. So the hot lesbian at the gay bar is going to pick you up, and as soon as you start smooching you're going to scream, 'No! She can't see us like this!' and bolt. And I'll still be there, looking at the Erika-shaped hole in the door and wondering how to console a grieving suitor."

"Tasha, you bitch, are you trying to manipulate me into kissing you again?"

"Damn right," I say. "That was a good kiss! And it ended too suddenly."

"It was, wasn't it?" Erika agrees, smugly. "I guess I've still got it."

"It takes two, you know," I object. "I deserve some of the credit, so I should get some of the reward."

She purses her lips, then takes a sip of wine before holding her glass out to me. I have to stretch to take it, of course, but after setting both glasses down, I reach back for her hand. She gives me a puzzled look, then takes my hand. Gripping hers, I tug, and she collapses onto me, legs trapped under my hips until I grasp her by the shoulders and pull her onto me. She looks both offended and amused.

"When's Zara due home?" I ask.

"She's with my parents for the weekend. She won't be barging through the door."

"This time."

"Right, this time. I would not let you get me into this position if she was likely to return."

"But now you're there...?"

"Well, it was a good kiss," she says, then plants her lips on mine.

Returning the kiss, gently, I wrap my arms around her back. There isn't a good way for her to do the same, so she folds her arms against my shoulders, lifting her face to mesh perfectly with mine.

We keep the kiss slow and tender for a long time. Erika's reasons for doing this are her own, but mine are mostly that I don't want it to overwhelm our friendship. She clearly enjoyed the last kiss, as did I, but it's strange enough just to enjoy my friend this way. I don't want affection to spiral into some kind of lust monster. Hell, we're both straight.

Aren't we?

If I'm straight, why is the caress of her tongue against mine making my breath slowly become more and more ragged? Why are my nipples becoming so very hard within my bra? Hard and sensitive, so that every time Erika's body moves, the brushing of my bra against my hardened nubs sends spikes of arousal down to my clit.

My hands explore the small of her back, sometimes venturing out over her butt, always moving back to her hips or her waist.

Occasionally she breaks the kiss and gives me a look that seems vaguely puzzled, but then just chooses another angle and moves back in. Each time I think she's going to stop, but she doesn't.

After thirty minutes of this, she moves her arms to wrap around my head, holding my face to hers. Since they're no longer lifting her face above mine, her chest loses its support, and her breasts crush mine. Hers grew with pregnancy and childbirth and didn't shrink much after she was done breastfeeding, even though she lost most of the baby weight.

Now, of course, in our upper thirties, we've both gained more weight than our tyrant doctors would like, but I don't feel she's lost an ounce of her beauty. I never have. Even though I'm straight I know what a lovely woman she is.

We resume kissing, and I begin to realize that the warmth I'm feeling in my lower region is the damp heat of my slick panties. My clit has come out to visit, and is basking in the wetness it has found. There are soft sounds floating from deep within Erika's throat, and, it seems, also from mine.

I draw my face back and press it more firmly to hers, moving it around, capturing parts of her lips to suckle hard, which makes Erika moan. Then I trap her tongue and suck it between my lips, running mine over the captured tip. Her hips push forward, increasing the pressure of her body against mine.

This time when we break the kiss, we're both breathing heavily, our eyes locked on the other's. Our lips join again, and I draw my hands up her body and press my fingers into the sides of her breasts. She gasps and nips at my teeth, before finally raising her head.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Touching you," I murmur. "Don't you like it?"

"Tasha..." she groans, but doesn't stop me as I take advantage of her raised chest to slip fingers and thumb around the tips of her breasts and pinch. "Aaah..." she moans.

"Take off your shirt," I hiss.

"Tasha! No!" she manages.

"I want to kiss your titties," I whisper. "You've always had the most perfect titties."

"Oh God, Tash, you can't!"

"I can't what?" I ask, my tone cajoling. "I can't want to? Or you don't want me to? I do want to, Erika, and I can tell you want me to."

She says nothing else, but suddenly she's tugging off her shirt and unfastening her bra.

Erika's areole are wide and heavily pebbled, her nipples broad and hard, their color a warm rose. I slide her up my body and fasten my lips to a breast.

She moans loudly, and her breathing is fast. I close my hands over her ass, which is firm and vibrant as I squeeze. Her hips push her body into mine, then shift into a slow rocking motion as I knead and suckle her breast.

I move to the other breast, and as I lick her nipple she lowers her face and nips at my ear. I'm so horny now that I feel I'm in danger of losing myself in her.

"Stop," she manages to groan. "Tasha, stop."

For a moment I ignore her, but there's still a trace of sanity trying to exert itself within me. I kiss her nipple one more time, then turn my head back to look at her.

"We can't do this," she says. "I can't do this. You're married, and you're my friend."

She pushes herself into a sitting position, squatting on my thighs, her breasts free and swaying. I want her body like I've never wanted anything in my life. But that can't be true, can it?

"I'm attracted to you!" I blurt out, as the realization hits me. "God! I really am!"

"You think?" There's humor in her tone, along with regret. "We've been making out for over an hour, and you just decided that?" She brushes her dark hair behind her shoulder.

Nervously, I ask, "What about you?"

"No question," she breathes. "I'm going to need time to process that, you know? I want you naked and in my arms. After twenty-odd years of friendship, that's..."

"A shock," I finish for her. "Yeah, me too."

She picks up her bra, then tosses it back onto the couch. Instead, she slips her shirt on without it, then she climbs off my legs. I swivel around to sit up.

"Are you upset?" I ask.

She thinks about that for longer than I like, but shakes her head. "No. Just... out of my depth. I need to think about this."

"Yeah," I agree. "We both should. I'll leave for now."

So Drake is as shocked as me when I drag him upstairs, get him naked, and ride his cock to two of the best climaxes of our marriage. After he spends himself inside me, he wraps his hands behind his head and gives me an arrogant look.

I'm disgusted with myself, but my body needed the release, and I couldn't get myself off while he would be wondering what I was doing.

He still hasn't come down from his virility high when I spring the news on him. "I'm filing for divorce."

He's dumbfounded. Not surprising. "What? Why?"

"We haven't been working out for years, Drake. You know that. We both need our freedom back. I don't hate you. I know you don't hate me. But lack of hate isn't a basis for staying together. I've been seeing a lawyer, and the papers are being filed today. I'm happy to split everything down the middle. If you don't contest it, it will be cheaper for both of us, but you need an attorney."

"Well, fuck." He stares at me. "Then what was last weekend?"

"Last hurrah?" I suggest. "Neither of us was disappointed. That's as good a way to go out as I can think of."

"Is there someone else?" He seems despondent, not angry. I'm not sure which I'd prefer. He's never been a violent person, so maybe anger would be better to help him deal with his situation.

"No," I say. It's true, if only technically. I don't know if Erika and I are even friends anymore. She's been very cagey in replies to my texts. She hasn't cut me off completely, which is promising. Either way, it's time. Drake and I should have split at least five years ago. If he has an affair, or even if he already has had one, I won't feel bad, and I hope he doesn't.

"So, that's it?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "You know it's overdue. We have no kids, and you're young enough to find someone who makes you happy."

That's when she replies with an invitation to talk.

Plus, I find myself wondering what would happen if I caressed her thighs with my feet, through her yoga pants, maybe letting them drift higher and press against her...

I hope my face isn't betraying my feelings right now.

"What do you mean your divorce wasn't caused by recent events?"

Straight to the heart. She's never before been a confrontational person, at least with me. I'd really like to be holding a glass of wine right now, but she made us coffee, and I already set the mug down on the table.

"I mean, recent events played a part," I say, "but I'm not divorcing him because you said you wouldn't kiss me since I was married. It's not because I'm attracted to you, but because my attraction showed me that I've never been attracted to him. Sex meets a need, nothing more. Until a few weeks back, I'd pushed Jade out of my mind. Now I remember how disappointed I was that Jade laughed off our dare. It wasn't long after the kiss that I hooked up with Drake

"Now I can see that the core truth of our unsatisfying marriage is that I could never be what he needed. Because he could never be what I needed."

"Because he's a man?" Erika suggests.

"And it's taken me twenty-plus years to understand that about myself. So I understand if me being attracted to you makes you uncomfortable, or squicky, but I'm still up for visiting the gay bar. Because I think that's where I belong."

She gives me a half-grin. "No one belongs at a bar, Tash. We may both need a new social group, but there have to be better places to find one."

I pick up on the word instantly. "Both?"

"I felt bad about you going straight to divorce after what I said, Tasha," she says. "I didn't want you to toss your marriage aside because I don't want to make out with a married woman, but it sounds like you've thought about it, and you needed to let go."

I grin. "So how do you feel about making out with a married woman who's on the path to divorce?"

She returns my grin. "Do you want wine?"

I laugh. "God, yes."

"Uh, where's Zara?" I ask when Erika handed me a glass.

"Camping with a friend," she says, sitting beside me instead of at the far end of the couch. "And her parents, so I doubt she'll be baking any cookies."

"And if she can on rocky ground, more power to her?" I suggest, raising my glass in salute. "Remember, they must already have figured out how to be really quiet, or you'd be hearing from other parents."

"Don't remind me. I still don't know how to feel about it. I don't care that she's gay - if she is - but so much sex?"

"Are you worried or jealous?"

Erika snorts her wine and has to set her glass down to deal with her coughing fit. "Good question," she says. "And maybe the other parents do know, but are as conflicted as I am."

"Zara is a very smart girl, and what she's doing is about the least risky teen sexploration she could be involved with, as long as the group is closed. Next year she'll be in college, and it would be good for her to know herself when she gets there."

"Ugh, you're probably right," Erika says. She takes a sip of her wine. "I'm glad you're here to keep me grounded."

"Baby, that's the farthest thing from what I want to do to you," I say. I set my glass down, then catch the twinkle in her eyes as I move my lips to hers.

Though our kiss begins delicately once more, there's an undercurrent of passion from the start, and it doesn't take many minutes until we're each groaning into the other's mouth.

I can't deny my need to touch her, and soon I'm crushing my palm around her right breast, while the encouraging sounds she's making become more intense. I yank her loose tee shirt over her head, losing myself for a moment in the sight of her breasts rippling in the low bra. I lower my face to them, resisting the urge to motorboat her, then reach around to unsnap her bra one-handed.

Pushing Erika to the back of her couch I worship her wide nipples, looking up into her flushed face. Her hands unbutton my blouse by touch, since her view is blocked by my face and her boob, then unfasten my bra. She pushes me away from her breast to take them off together. Suddenly she's raised me in her lap and for the first time, she's the one suckling.

And, oh my God, my body has never felt like this. I'm tingling everywhere, and my panties are soaked. At no time has Drake, nor anyone else, made me horny like this. Her hands are squeezing my ass, and I'm regretting how thick the denim of my jeans is.

"Let's go upstairs," she murmurs, breaking the kiss.

My excitement, as high as it already is, ratchets up a few notches. "I've never heard a better idea in my life," I say.

She grins at the clearly ridiculous superlative, then grabs her clothing and heads up to her room, breasts swaying freely. Of course, I'm behind her, so my view is spoiled. She has left her wine, so I pick it up, toss my bra and blouse over my arm, then take my own glass, too.

Erika shakes her head. Her own yoga pants aren't much of an encumbrance, but she takes them off anyway, and when we're lying against each other, we're both only wearing panties. Hers are black, and though my pale pink ones make my arousal obvious, the wet patch on her black undies is every bit as big as mine.

I thread my thigh between hers, and we resume our interrupted kiss. Her hard nipples sink into the soft surface of my breasts, and I love the charge of arousal from her skin against mine. Until she grasps my breasts to play with them as I did with hers. Then the charge becomes a surge of desire in my chest.

Breaking the kiss, I explore her neck and shoulder with my lips and teeth. Everything I do makes her writhe and groan, and it's hard for me to associate the passionate woman beneath me with my friend of two decades. Except that I'm beginning to suspect that part of our closeness has always been that there was a wisp of passion connecting us.

I cock my head to the side and bite her neck, toward the front, right where it curves into her shoulders. She shudders again, and I can no longer wait. I push my fingers between our bodies and begin to stroke the damp front of her black undies. She moans, and bites me, too. Not enough to break the skin, just enough that her teeth drag along my sensitive neck, beneath my ear.

She is clearly every bit as horny as I am. But I had my fingers against her pussy first, and I slide down her body, pressing my advantage by licking her breasts.

"Oh, shit," Erika moans. "Shit, Tash, no one has ever made me feel like this."

"Same, baby," I murmur around her breast.

I fumble around over her panties. I haven't seen her down there, but I know where everything is supposed to be, and the warm moisture tells me she's turned on enough that I'm probably not risking irritation if I locate her clit now, so I continue poking until I find a small hard bump beneath her mons. When I circle it, she cries out.

I think I'm supposed to draw out her pleasure for a better result, but I want her to come for me Right Now. I want there to be no doubt that we belong to each other. So I rub the little bump while I suck hard at the delicious firm nipple between my teeth.

Erika's body rolls from side to side beneath me. Then her back arches and she bucks against me before she cries out. I feel the spasms of her climax ripple through her body, and she moans my name.

When her breathing begins to smooth out, she opens her eyes and gives me a look of wonder. "My God, Tash," she says.

She rocks her hips as she presses into me, her breasts engulfing mine. She doesn't break the kiss as my excitement grows. Her hip presses against my pussy as her fingers begin to pump.

I'm gasping into the kiss, her heavy breasts mashing mine as she thrusts, her fingers curled inside me, taking my arousal to heights it's never reached. She pries her lips from mine and whispers, "I want you to come, Tash. I want you to come for me."

"Mahhh..." I groan. "I'm... I'm... almost there, baby."

I see her grin before her lips collide with mine and I close my eyes, feeling the rise of my need become unstoppable. I topple over the edge, moaning into the kiss as my body convulses, delicious pulsing pleasure filling me.

We kiss, languidly now, for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before I sense her breathing becoming more labored. I roll her onto her back, and explore her pussy with my fingers, then begin to push them inside her.

There's a click and the sound of the front door hitting its stop. Erika's eyes grow wide as we hear footsteps on the stairs. Then I've rolled off her, and both of us are sliding under the covers at ludicrous speed. We both pull the sheet up to our necks.

"Hey Mom," comes Zara's voice.

"Hi, sweetie!" she calls out, sounding panicked. "Don't come in!"

There's a mumble and a laugh from outside the door. Zara isn't alone.

"Alright, Mom," she says. "I won't come in. Could you come downstairs soon? I need to talk to you."

"Alright, sweetie," she says.

There's some more giggling outside. I'm beginning to breathe a sigh of relief. She doesn't know that her mother isn't alone.

"Hey, Auntie Tasha," the voice from outside adds, almost as an afterthought.

Well, fuck.

"Hi, Zara," I call out.

"You come down too, Auntie Tasha."

"Alright, sweetie," I reply. Then I lift the sheet and pull it over my face.

I follow her downstairs. It feels like marching to the scaffold, but when Zara sees us, she quickly pulls her hand away from the other girl who's standing with her. Then, at a scowl from her friend, she reaches out to take her hand again.

The other girl has light brown hair and stands a few inches short of Zara, with more prominent breasts and hips than those of Erika's daughter.

"What are you doing home?" Erika asks.

"Hey, Mom," Zara says. "Uh. This is Aubrey." Her face is very pink. "She's, uh, she's my girlfriend."

"Aubs bakes the best cookies," I remember. Though she isn't the one who bakes seven at a time. Or "three in a row, all T!"

"Uh, hello, Ms. Reeves," says the shorter girl, who's now as red as Zara. "And, uh..."

"Just call me Aunt Tasha, like Zara," I say.

"Thank you, Aunt Tasha," she says. "Dad got called into work. We couldn't go camping, so we came to talk to you. Zara..." she adds, but her girlfriend takes over.

"I've wanted to tell you that we're dating," Zara says. "I've been worried you'd be upset, but, uh..." She glances between Erika and me.

Her mother is still frowning, probably still in surprise at the unexpected interruption, but as soon as she hears this her expression clears. She moves up to her daughter and pulls her into a huge hug. A moment later she reaches out to Aubrey, too, and the relief on both girls' faces becomes a glow of affection and pride. "Oh, sweetie," she says. "Of course I'm not upset with you." She glances at me. "You may not be the only girls who like girls around here."

"I know, Mom," she says, breaking from her mother's hug to embrace me. I also include her girlfriend. "If you're trying to keep your girlfriend hidden, you shouldn't put on lipstick before you kiss her."

She looks into my face. Without thought I reach to touch my lips. "Not today, Auntie Tasha," she says, stepping out of my arms, and grinning cheekily at me. "A few weeks ago when you were sitting on the couch."

"Busted," I say.

"Don't spread it around, please, Zara," my friend says. "Tasha's getting a divorce, but it isn't through yet."

"Ooh! What's the secret worth to you, Mom?" the little minx asks.

"It's worth not hanging you from your room by your ankles, daughter of mine."

"Ooh, mean." She turns to me. "Are you going to move in?" she asks.

My face flames. "We, uh, haven't talked about anything like that," I say. "I'm not sure your mom could stand having two girls around all the time."

With a perfectly straight face, Zara says, "You should bake her some cookies. Then she'll never let you leave."

I hope my face remains as impassive as hers. Erika is struggling, but I think we both manage to hide that we know her code.

Aubrey, on the other hand, turns red. The code must be common knowledge within their group, not just confined to Zara's journal.

As Zara takes Aubrey's hand, I move to Erika's side and slip my hand around her back. "That's a great idea, Zara. I'll be sure to bake her lots of cookies."

I feel Erica twitch, but her face shows only affection. Zara grins at us, and we all politely ignore her girlfriend covering her mouth, trying not to explode with laughter.

Special thanks to @EmilyMiller for beta-reading, excellent suggestions, and pointing out a few significant errors. Please read her stories.