Claire & Angie's Holiday Adventure free porn video

Pretty much a true story, this comes from an old clubbing friend I hadn’t seen for years.

Claire & Angie’s Holiday Adventure

I never really intended it to happen, but sometimes these things just do. Blame the heat, blame the booze if you like, and you can even blame me, because I don’t regret a thing. At least we’ve managed to contain it to once or twice a year since then, Brokeback Mountain style, but for women.
I’m Claire, she’s Angie, and we met at work five years ago, hitting it off immediately, finding we had a matching humour of a sick and hilarious bent. We would share the odd illicit ciggie together when work became too stressful – both of us had given up, really. Angie is married to Richard, with two k**s, I’m unmarried, living with my partner, Paul, no k**s, and we don’t want any. But none of this is to do with home or family, this is to do with Claire-and-Angie-time, the time we spend together, our girlie holidays. It didn’t happen on the first one, which was a bit of a washout, but the year we went on a painting holiday to Tuscany, we changed forever one hot afternoon.
It was a day off, midway through the week, and everyone else had gone on a shopping trip to Lucca. We’re lazy cows on holiday, and we decided to stay at the hotel and make use of the pool and the magnificent views. We had a cute little apartment too, not just a couple of dull over-furnished rooms like we’d had the year before. There were two bedrooms, a single and a double. We had tossed up for who had which when we arrived, and I had won the double. The sitting room looked right out over the Med, which glimmered behind the green hills in front of us. Quite idyllic. The hotel also had a trust bar, where you wrote down what you had taken, and helped yourself; a bit deadly for the likes of us, who like a good drink at the best and worst of times.
We spent the morning at the pool. It was hot, we swam, sunbathed, chatted idly and read a bit, as innocent as you like. Midday came, and we had sandwiches, which needed to be washed down with something. We decided to eat in the apartment, and pick up a little something from the bar, on the way.
We had both taken a liking to Prosecco as soon as we arrived in Italy, so we snaffled one of the bottles from the fridge, wrote it down on our tab, and went upstairs. We ate, we drank, and soon we began to feel a bit sleepy in the heat of the afternoon.
Angie was half lying at one end of the sofa, a good comfy sprawl, one leg against the back of the sofa, the other stretched out, foot on the floor. I was at the other end, half-facing her, leaning on the armrest, legs up and sort of between hers, my head nodding a bit. Perhaps a snooze was in order. I was just beginning to think of having a proper lie down.
Now, something about the mix of sun, booze and being a wee bit sleepy generally has an effect on my libido. I hadn’t had a shag for a couple of weeks, what with one thing and another. I knew that she and Richard were having a few problems, so it was quite likely, knowing her as I do, that she was in a similar frame of mind to me.
Before I go any further a little more about us. We’re from the North, outskirts of Manchester. I was thirty-two, Angie was thirty-five. We’re almost opposites physically, both of us are attractive in an understated way, nothing spectacular. I’m the tall slim one with a big nose, small firm tits and a big arse – our one point in common. Angie’s shorter, but not short, she’s got the prettier face, and she’s the plump one with her big arse matched by her big full soft tits. I’m brunette, blue eyes, she’s honey blonde, brown eyes, we both moan a bit about how we look, like women do, but nature could have been worse to both of us. I guess we’ve always found each other attractive on some level, but it’s our minds that complement each other best. She’s confident, gregarious, chatty, and I’m the quiet one, but after a few drinks I can be just as bad as her.
Angie has always been the dead straight one, likes her men, likes her booze, loves her k**s. I had bit of a wild time when I was in my teens and twenties, but I’ve calmed down a lot since then, though not completely. Paul and I still like the odd spliff at bedtime, and he doesn’t know it, and nor did Angie, but when I was a club babe back in the ‘90s, and when I was in the right mood and the right company, I was a quite partial to a bit of clam-jousting. I wouldn’t say I was bisexual, I did used to say if asked that I was just sexual. If there was a willing woman near me, and I was buzzing on the amazing E’s we used to get back in the day, chances are we’d have at least a good snog, and occasionally we’d go a lot further than that. I was one of those girls who wasn’t averse to dragging another girl into the club toilets for a sniff of poppers and a quick frig, but on the whole, I preferred men. There was nothing I liked better than a good hard shag with a well-hung bloke.
I hadn’t touched a woman in about five years, until that afternoon. One of the things I really like about Angie is that we can be really frank with each other about sex. We don’t go on about it, but we do tell each other how we’re feeling. Both of us admit we like to masturbate if the bloke isn’t up to it, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary when Angie dreamily said:
“Oh fuck, I’m feeling a bit horny, I think I’m going to have to go and take care of myself.” She had sort of soft and naughty grin on her face as she spoke.
Something in my tummy kind of went ‘oooohh’. When I’m all sun-warm and a bit pissed I’m always in the mood, and she’d caught me on the hop.
“I don’t know though… I don’t know if I can be bothered to get up,” She yawned, flopping back and closing her eyes.
Before I could stop myself this came out:
“Stay here then, I’ll help you out if you like.” I think I meant it as a joke.
Angie opened her eyes and looked at me, all surprised. ‘Oops’ I thought, ‘Claire, you’ve gone too far.’ But next thing you know, we’re talking about it like I might have meant it. I’d expected her to laugh it off, but fuck me, she was taking it seriously! We’d been best mates for a couple of years, and nothing like this had ever come up before. I poured us out the last of the wine, and we were sipping it as we chatted, and chatting about sex just made me hornier, because I kept on looking at Angie, and realising that one of the reasons I liked her so much was that deep down I must have always fancied her a bit. I’d never really thought about her like that before, but when I did, she immediately reminded me of a girl I used to meet out clubbing, who got off on the odd bit of same gender toilet sex, just like me, and we’d gone back to her place and slept together half a dozen times over a year or so. She was straight too, but we set off something in each other. Now Angie was setting me off in the same way. I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t want to ruin a friendship with another woman over sex, and it doesn’t mean so much to me that not having it off would upset me unduly. I was quite happy to drop it, but Angie didn’t.
Eventually she wheedled it out of me that I’d done it with women, and I told her a bit about one or two of my adventures. She said she’d never even come close, but the way she put it was:
“The opportunity’s never arisen anyway.”
Which meant she wasn’t entirely denying it could happen, and that made me feel even more ‘oooooh,’ inside. She was definitely getting hornier, I could easily tell because her skirt was hitched up halfway round her waist, and I could see her crutch. She had bikini bottoms on, pale blue, and I noticed a dark spot was slowly growing right where it matters! I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, but I didn’t say anything. By then I was getting wet too, believe me!
“If only Johnny Depp was here,” Ange murmured, and we both laughed.
“Look Ange, if you want to give yourself one, you might as well do it here… you look so comfortable,” I said, because something I do enjoy is watching, and even if I didn’t touch her I’d get off on it anyway, might even be better all round.
Paul and I like bit of porn to keep things exciting, but seeing someone you fancy really playing with themselves is a bit of a treat. Paul and I sometimes wank in front of each other, and it can be so fucking sexy.
“You know, I feel like it too… In fact I’m as horny as fuck… we can just play with ourselves on this lovely sofa, all nice and friendly, and no harm done.” I said, my voice getting a bit husky.
Ange opened one eye, sort of speculatively, daring me I suppose. Then she closed her eyes completely and d****d a hand, all casual like, on the wide vee of blue between her thighs.
“All right Johnny, you can have your way with me,” she giggled, and I nearly gasped out loud as slid she her hand under the elastic and cupped her pussy.
Somehow, seeing her hand begin to move under the material was even sexier than if she was completely naked.
“I’ll have Brad, if you’re monopolising Johnny,” I quipped, and followed suit, sliding my fingers into my knickers, combing through my bush, and finding myself swollen and sopping wet.
I let my head fall back, and concentrated on my own pleasure for a little while. Two fingers slipping in and out, so warm and juicy, and knowing that Angie was doing the same a couple of feet away was such a fucking turn on!
I purred a bit, Angie gave a sweet little moan. I looked, and she was looking at me! We both blushed scarlet. Two grown women with k**s and partners and careers, wanking like a couple of horny experimenting teenage schoolgirls. I wasn’t meaning to start anything further, I just wanted to move one of my legs to a more comfortable position, I leaned it against Angie’s, my foot was almost under her big round bum, my big toe just a couple of inches from where her hand was still rhythmically moving under her bikini.
We closed our eyes again; it seemed to be easier that way. She might have been dreaming of Johnny Depp, but by then, she was the only thing on my mind. The feel of her bare leg against mine was making me even wetter. I had three fingers playing in my puss, all warm and easy.
She made the next move. I felt the sofa lurch, and she was lifting her leg away from mine, which was a bit disappointing. I opened my eyes, and had to smile. She was taking her bikini pants off! I closed my eyes again quickly, and she slid her leg back to where it had been. Now she was almost sitting on my foot, I could feel the softness of her bum on it. I eased forwards a couple of inches and felt her foot alongside my bum. I wiggled my toes, she wiggled back and we both giggled. I waited a few moments and decided it was my turn to take off my knickers.

We settle companiably, legs resting against each other, but when I move my foot to where I thought it was before, my big toe touches something warm and wet and hairy! It sends a shiver right through me, and I hear the breath catch in Angie’s throat, but she doesn’t pull away. I risk a look, and she’s got a secret smile on her lips. I move my toe, almost casually, and it lightly caresses her slightly open labia, she’s rubbing her clit, round and round, and giving it the occasional pat. She seems to push a little bit towards me, and next thing I know my big toe slips into her, just like that! She bites her lips, and as her eyelids flutter open, I close mine. This is too fucking naughty for words!
“Ahhhh…” she sighs, and her hips start to writhe; she’s losing her self-consciousness, and beginning to go with the flow.
I begin to ever so subtly fuck her with my toe. The position I’m in doesn’t allow me much movement, but it’s so delicious. She’s got a big, hairy cunt, very womanly and lush, and it feels lush too as I push a little bit deeper.
“Oh Johnny, you are a bad, bad boy,” she murmurs.
I smile to myself, so that’s the way she wants to play it. Pretending I’m a man. I don’t mind that as long as she’s happy with it. Now I just want to fuck her, feel her getting hornier and hornier, make her cum. I’m getting very squelchy and my clit is throbbing so much I daren’t touch it. She’s so open and wet my toe is barely touching the sides. I want to fill her more, and from the way she’s moving now, she wants the same.
I decide a little change is in order. I slide my toe out of her, and lift my left leg from the floor. She moans and then gasps when I almost cover her pussy with my left foot, feeling the wetness and the heat through its sole. Now I can move more freely. I begin to dabble my toe just inside her, and she coos softly. I thrust it in and out, fucking her, and she loves it. Her left hand is speeding up on her clit, and she’s fondling one her tits with the other.
The more I fuck her, the wetter and more open she gets. I let my bent leg lean outwards, and the new angle means my other toes are lined up with her pussy. I thrust a little harder, and fuck me, but she begins to open up to my foot! Soon all my toes are wet, and she’s humping on them, rotating her hips. I take a quick glimpse at her. She’s biting her lower lip, her eyes screwed tight shut, a look of blissful concentration on her face. She’s pulled one of her tits out of her bra, and she’s tugging on the big stiff nipple. Between her legs it’s getting a bit outrageous. I can feel her heat right down to the ball of my foot; half of it seems to be fucking her. I’ve never done anything quite like this before. I’ve frigged and licked and fondled and scissored, but nothing this kinky. I fucking love it!
I can smell her pussy, her arousal, I can smell myself. We’re perfuming the warm air with sex. I pull out one of my tits too; my nipple is tingling like mad. It’s great having both hands free to pleasure myself. I go faster, and feel my foot slide a bit deeper. Her pussy feels fabulous, it’s beginning to squeeze on me rhythmically, and her breathing is getting ragged. Soon I’m losing control too, thrusting harder, almost kicking my foot in and out of her, turning it from side to side so that it stretches her more, and that’s when she starts to go mental. Next thing I know, she’s let go of her tit and she’s grabbing at my ankle, pulling me in and out, even deeper, using my foot like a giant dildo, growling and moaning out loud, fucking herself frantically until she suddenly arches, jolts, cries out, smacks her clit fast and hard, and comes! I feel her pussy clamping on my foot, the spasms shuddering right up through my leg to my pussy, which explodes in an orgasm to match hers.
Neither of us stops coming for ages, and when we do we find ourselves looking at each other like we’ve only just met, which is some ways is true. Our faces are flushed, bodies trembling, my foot is still inside her, flexing gently.

Angie let go of my ankle and ran a finger all the way round her foot-stuffed vulva.
“That wasn’t Johnny Depp who made me come… it was you, you saucy bitch,” she chuckled, and I was so amazingly glad, because it meant she didn’t regret it at all.
I began to draw my foot out of her, but she grabbed my ankle again.
“Leave it in there… I like it.” She growled, and there was this greedy sound in her voice I hadn’t heard before. “It’s the first time I’ve felt nice and full like this since… well, since.” She chuckled again, tossing her hair back.
I nudged her with my foot, and she kind of writhed on it.
“Fuck, I can’t believe how good that feels,” she moaned.
My foot felt like it was in a warm, tight bath. It was such a sexy sensation. Even though I’d just come, I was still all hot and bothered. I began to slowly fuck her again. Angie took her other tit out, and played with both her nipples. It was like we were in this trance or something, just the two of us in the whole world. I dug deeper, and Angie pushed onto me. I flexed my toes fast, and her soft but cellulite free belly shook like a jelly in a gale. I pulled out my other tit too, and copied Angie.
“Aren’t you going to say something then?” Angie asked, and I realised that I hadn’t spoken since I’d mentioned Brad Pitt.
“I’m sorry, but this is so fucking awesome I’m a bit lost for words,” I replied.
I thrust firmly, twisting my leg. I could feel her pussy lips against my heel, my toes were wiggling against what must have been her cervix. “I’m wearing you like a shoe!” I exclaimed.
“What are you doing to me?” Angie growled urgently, she seemed to love it best when I really stretched her.
“Never laid a hand on you, honest!” I couldn’t help laughing.
Angie joined in and I felt it through her pussy, rippling over my foot.
“Don’t start me laughing, it’ll make me come again!” She protested, wiping her eyes.
She licked her hand and began to play with her clit. I was so into doing her that I’d even stopped playing with myself. It looked so sexily pornographic that it reminded me of a DVD I saw with Paul, not all that long ago.
“I bet I could fist you,” I said. “You’ve got most of my foot up there without even trying.” Because as good as it felt on my foot the idea of putting my hand inside her was better, but it would be a bit more of a commitment too.
This fucking her with my foot had happened completely by accident, really. If we did something else, that would be making a choice. I knew I was ready for it, but was Angie?
“I thought only gay men in the eighties did that,” she said, but I couldn’t tell if she was put off or interested.
“I saw it in a porn DVD with Paul.” I told her, conversationally. “It certainly got us going, and the woman who was getting it looked like she was genuinely getting off on it too, I mean really getting off on it. She squirted like you wouldn’t believe at the end of it.”
I knew I was getting a bit crude, but I couldn’t help it. Once it was in my head, I knew that’s what I wanted to do, and not just do, either; I wanted to feel what it was like. Suddenly I was a bit jealous of Angie. I’d been making most of the running, and I was so fucking horny again by then. I’ll always say this for my mate, she does catch on quick, and she makes up her mind quickly too.
“Oh fuck it Claire, let’s just go to bed for Christ’s sake. We might as well do this properly.”
“Oh Angie… I could kiss you!” I crowed, bless her heart.
“You can do that when we’re in bed.” She said, and she wasn’t being funny.
She pulled my foot out of her snatch, and it made a soft, wicked sucking sound.
“Oooohhh… I’m not going to forget that in a hurry,” she moaned, and rubbed herself reflectively for moment. “Hmmm… definitely felt better full,” she commented, giving her clit a final slap.
We stood up, a bit unsteadily, and supported each other pretty much to the bedroom. I can’t really tell you how exciting it was, how unexpected and hot it felt to be going to bed with your best mate. I didn’t even know if she would want to touch me yet, which was a bit nerve-wracking, but I needn’t have worried.
We settled down, facing each other, and I started to run my hands over her lovely generous curves.
“I think I could get used to girlie-sex,” she mused, and with that she leaned in and kissed me.
I still think she was testing herself out at that moment, seeing if she could go past friendship and into desiring me. Her lips were warm and soft, and alive. My tummy went ‘ooh ooh ooooohhhh.’ I kissed her back, gently, didn’t want to startle her, but suddenly she seemed to click, as if she had made her mind up, and her tongue pressed into my mouth urgently. We were having our first snog, and it was a full-blown five star beauty.
Our hands were all over each other, feeling, touching, caressing, fondling, tweaking. We’d known each other for several years, but now we were really finding out how the bodies we knew so well with clothes on felt naked. And they felt fucking marvellous. I might have been more tuned to it at first, because of my past naughtiness, but Angie was soon making up for lost time.
By the time we broke from our snog, we were both glowing all over, and gasping with pleasure. As we pulled apart, I took the opportunity to slide my hand over Angie’s broad belly, and cup her pussy. It felt so horny touching her there. She was hot, very wet, still a bit open from my foot. My fingers itched to go travelling inside her. Then she touched me, and I just melted, nearly coming to moment she brushed my clit. The next thing I knew she was sliding over me, going down, down, down the bed until I could feel the heat of her breath on my pussy, just a second before she started diddling my clit with the tip of her tongue. Her Richard must get great blowjobs if Angie’s technique on me was anything to go by! I hadn’t expected this at all, not yet, anyway. I’d had this little scenario in mind just before she started where I would do what she was doing and then try to turn it into a sixty-nine, and if she didn’t like that, too bad, her fingers were good enough for me. As soon as I thought of fingers, there they were, two of them, sliding straight in.
“bloody hell Claire, you feel like you’re on fire!” She said, lifting her head for a moment, then her tongue was at it again, and I was gripping the bedrail and shuddering.
She slipped another finger in me when I wasn’t paying attention, and started to frig me, right up against my g-spot. Now it was my turn to go a bit mental. Natalie, my clubbing mate used to do this to me, and I fucking loved it, but before I started to come, which I was on the brink of, she pulled back a bit, and then I felt it all get a bit bigger and a lot more important.
“You horny bitch, are you trying to fist me?” I exclaimed, and the reply was dirty giggle.
I spread my legs wider, and began to tweak my hard nipples. She was beginning to stretch me, and the more she did the better it felt. Her tongue was licking over my vulva and her hand, making it even more slippery than my juices were already doing. It was almost hurting, just little pangs really, but really hot, like when I pinch my nipples hard. I felt her twisting her hand, pushing. Even though my pussy isn’t as big as hers, it kept on stretching, and her hand kept on coming deeper. I was sweating, moaning, tugging my tits, wishing I could suck my own nipples, and then I felt this weird ‘give’ inside, and yelped as her hand slid right in. And I was supposed to be the one fisting her!
“Oh God I love it!” I groaned.
“So do I, you feel amazing!” Said Angie, then her lips enclosed my clit and started sucking as she curled her hand up and started to give me a real fisting.
It didn’t take me long after that. Even though my mind would have liked it to go on all afternoon, my body wouldn’t let it, it was just too good. It started like waves, her fist pushing each one through me, and then it was a mad storm at sea, all hot and salty and crashing surf. I gripped the bedrail for dear life ands tried not to scream the house down as I came and came and came. They say you’ll get your reward in heaven, but I reckon I got mine on earth that afternoon, the first time Angie made me come.
When my pussy tried to force her out, she wouldn’t let it, and when I’d recovered from that, just like her, I didn’t want to let it go.
“That was so much better than giving a blowjob!” She said, lifting her face.
She was all red and wet from my pussy. I wanted to kiss her all over, but then I had a better idea.
“Why don’t you scootch round so that I can do it to you too, but don’t you fucking dare stop doing it to me!” I said.
Angie didn’t have to think twice this time; she was well up for anything from now on. She turned herself round so that she was facing me, and one of her legs was resting on my body, all warm and heavy, her fist still nuzzling and thrusting a bit inside me. Now I could reach her pussy too.
“Throw us pillow Claire love,” Angie said, and before I touched her I passed her two pillows so she could rest her head back comfortably.
What I felt with my toes was now what I felt with my fingers. Just beautiful, because it was much more intense, and I knew I could do so much more. I’ve got long, large hands, which could have been made for this. Luckily my fingernails were quite short, because I used to keep them long and a bit ornate. I’d busted a couple of them just before we came on holiday, cut them all down to start again. That girl was so incredibly wet and juicy; I just dipped three right into her, and knew at once that getting the rest in wasn’t going to be a problem.
“You ready for it Angie?” I asked. I could hardly talk by then.
“More than… do it, please, for god’s sake!” she crowed.
I followed her lead, which was actually just what I’d seen the bloke in the DVD do to the woman, and made all my fingers and my thumb into a sort of a cone, and gave them a good thrust.
“Fuck me! It’s gone straight in!” I exclaimed, because it had, right down to my wrist!
I shouldn’t have been so surprised considering my foot had been there just a few minutes ago, but it was more because the feeling sliding my fist deep into my best mate was so outrageous, and so beautiful. I keep thinking the word ‘lush’ whenever Angie’s pussy comes to mind, which is fairly often. There are other words too, like deep, slutty, slack-Alice, and just plain big. Two k**s must’ve been part of it, but its not that she can’t squeeze, because she can, I reckon she could crush my hand if she really tried. I pulled, and my hand popped out, pushed, and in it went again, and I noticed that it was when I was crossing the line from in to out, that Angie liked it best.
“You dirty… bitch… you love it… when I to this bit… don’t you?” I husked, twirling my fist and jiggling it just in and out.
“Grrr… fuck yes I do!” she gasped
What she was doing to me had me away with the fairies. I might not be as big as her down there, but I am tall girl, and she was getting a long way into me, and the deeper she got the more I loved it. Just like us, so different but liking that difference. Dark, blonde, tall, shorter, thin, plump, quiet, gregarious, deep, wide…
I shuttled my fist back and forth, through the mouth of her pussy, and she let out more appreciative yowls, like a big cat having fun. When I paused for a moment, she suddenly thrust so deep my eyes flew open in surprise. She was reaching parts of me unexplored by man! I punched deep into Angie, to show her what she was doing to me. She twisted her fist quickly from side to side at its widest and my narrowest point, so I knew what she was feeling, then we went back what each other liked the most, and after some of that, so horny-high from fisting, we found ourselves homing in on our g-spots.
It was the first time Angie ever had proper g-spot massage, she told me afterwards. She’d felt it before, but more by chance, through accidentally fucking at the right angle with Richard, but not from her best friend’s fist rubbing and twisting, from her fingers cupping and stroking the right place faster and faster, while she did the same to me. I felt all the strength in my body channelling down my arm, while all the sweet sensations, the almost wanting-to-wee-bliss, the insane flowering throb of my clit, all melded together in my groin, and then lapped outwards until my whole body felt orgasmic.
“Yes, yes YESSS!” We cried out together, hands blurring in each other, bodies shaking and shuddering in the seconds before we came.
We were straining upwards bodies taut as bent long-bows, the intensity in Angie’s big blue eyes would have been frightening if I hadn’t felt just the same. Then we came, and it was like all the best bits from all the E’s and coke and spliff I’d ever taken in the old days, all rolled up together, and dropped on me in one go. We watched in awed amazement as fountains spurted from both our pussies, we were wailing, in ecstasy and wonder, cumming and squirting all over each other until we were soaked, panting, still buzzing, but over the peak at last.
“Fuck… my… old… boots!” Angie panted, weakly trying to prop herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her hand slithered out of my pussy, more juice gushing after it. I was still twirling away slowly in her wetness, in a complete sensual daze.
“In purely sexual terms,” she qualified, “that… was the best… orgasm… those were the best orgasms… I’ve ever had!”
“Mmmm… me too hun,” I agreed.
“Look at us… what a pair of dirty girls we are. You soaked me!”
“So did you!”
“I knew about the g-spot, but I never expected it to be quite like that. Richard’s got some learning to do! Oh don’t look like that… don’t get jealous on me babe… please!”
She’d seen my face fall a bit when she mentioned Richard, but it was just because it meant the spell was over for the time being. I never expected Angie to suddenly go gay, and I didn’t want her too, but I was feeling very tender towards her after what we’d been through. I love my Paul, but sex with Angie had just blown me away.
I gave my fist a vicious little jab inside her.
“I’m not jealous, but that’s for mentioning him before we’ve had a proper cuddle. I can’t just snap out of how I feel.”
“Yowch!” Angie yelped. “Sorry babe, you’re right. Get your hand out of my snatch and we’ll have that cuddle.”
I did, and we did. Angie made up for her little slip. We cuddled and kissed and caressed until we got drowsy, then, pulling a blanket over us, Angie spooned into my back, and we slept until the gong went for dinner.

“Did you have a nice day off?” The teacher asked us when we’d hurriedly sat down, last at the table.
“Ever so,” said Angie, and I nodded in agreement.
“Did you do anything special?” he asked.
Maybe he saw the light in our eyes, or subconsciously caught the scent of pussy, barely disguised with a liberal dousing of Chamade.
Angie and I just giggled.

After dinner Angie looked at me, and I looked at her.
“Scrabble and an early night for us,” she said to the group, and we left them to their fun and games, while we collected another bottle of Prosecco from the bar, and headed back to our apartment, and that big double bed.
Teacher was on his way back to the group with some cans of beer. He gave us bit of a funny look, and I was glad it was dark because I blushed to the roots.
We drank, and snogged and felt each other up on the sofa, and drank some more until we couldn’t resist it any longer and then we went to bed. I taught Angie how to do the scissors, mashing our pussies together, clinging to each other’s thighs until we came to a juddering orgasm. Then we did a long slow sixty-nine until we came again. We went to sleep in each other’s arms.

The next day was a bit weird. Angie was up before me, in the shower when I woke. All through the morning she was brittle, snappy, and didn’t want to paint near me. Luckily I’m a sensible and sensitive soul, and I didn’t get too upset because I could guess that she was trying to justify what we’d done. She’s an old-fashioned girl at heart, and it must have sunk in that despite all the fun of it, she’d just been unfaithful to Richard, and no matter what their relationship was like then, and it wasn’t great, she’d be feeling guilty. I didn’t. Paul and I get on just fine, but I’d been unfaithful to him without a second thought. I’d already made my mind up that what I did with my best friend was my own business; it was girl’s stuff and nothing to do with him. I’d have to have a chat with Angie later and try and get her to see it my way. I had an idea that might make her feel a bit better about it.
When we finished painting for the day, I made for the bar, took another bottle our favourite tipple, and went up to the apartment. Angie was in her room and the door was shut. I knocked, softly.
“Come on babes, let’s talk about this, I can’t bear it that you feel bad about us!” I said, gently.
I heard her blowing her nose, and then the door opened a little bit. I waved the bottle through the gap.
“Oi, stop it, that was what started it!” She said; so she hadn’t lost her sense of humour completely.
“I don’t want to start anything now, I just want to talk to you,” I pleaded, giving a judicious little tearful sniff.
“Oh all right, I suppose we’ll have to sooner or later,” Angie sighed gustily, and came out of her room. Her eyes were red from crying.
“Good girl, come on then – we’ll drink it at the table, none of that naughty sofa business.” I reassured her.
We talked for a good couple of hours about what it meant, what we’d done, how it would affect us, all that stuff. By the end of it we were both a bit weepy, but feeling much better. We had a good hug, a friendly non-sexual kiss, and came to an agreement. If we’re on holiday together, and we’re both in the mood, we can do it. If either one of us isn’t in the mood, no party, no comebacks. When we get home, no regrets, back to normal, how we’ve always been. We’ve stuck to that ever since, though it has to be said that we do go away together several times a year now, one proper holiday, usually painting, and the odd weekend, and I can’t actually think of a time when we haven’t been in the mood! I do get a bit possessive when we’re together, and some people might think we’re stand-offish when we’re in a group, but we have to make up for all the time we can’t have sex.
We often go with the same painting teacher. He pretty much sussed us from the start, even before we had an apartment next door to his in Morocco. He heard us at it one night when we’d had a sly spliff together, which Angie wasn’t used to. She went double-mental, riding on my fist like a bucking bronco, and the next morning he made a discreet comment about noisy night-games. He’s a very cool bloke when you get to know him.
We do love each other, as a bit more than friends, bound to really. I think our little peccadilloes actually help to keep our other relationships going a bit better as well, now we’ve got used to it. Angie got over the hump with Richard, and managed to broaden his sexual horizons. I’m pretty sure my Paul knows something’s going on. He teases me about my breaks with Angie, and I tease him back, by neither denying nor admitting anything. Whenever I get back we seem to have a new lease of sexual energy, which I put down to him fantasising about what his missus has been up to in bed with her best mate. I don’t mind a bit, if it keeps him frisky!

Angie has just been on the phone, muttering something about wanting a special treat for her fortieth birthday, which coincidentally falls bang slap in the middle of the next painting course, in Morocco…

THE END