Beautiful Curves

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In hindsight, my divorce, combined with a new start in a new city, had probably left me somewhat emotionally vulnerable by the time I first met Lisa and her husband, Cameron. But whether or not that vulnerability was in some part responsible for the nature of our encounter, I’m not sure. In the end, I’m just glad it happened. It was a beautiful and exotic introduction to a new chapter in my life; a sexual re-awakening that I will always cherish.

Sometimes a single act can change who you are. Ever since last summer, I feel like a different person; a different woman.

Twelve months ago, I walked into an interesting-looking lingerie boutique in an upscale part of the city. Someone had told me it specialized in bras and swimwear for women with a larger bust. I’m twenty-seven years old, 5′ 3″, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Though I’m a fairly petite size 6, I wear a 34E (or so I thought) size bra. Being so buxom has its advantages, but an easy to find and attractive selection of bras that fit properly isn’t one of them. It’s almost impossible to find something pretty in my size. It’s either an incredibly matronly support bra, or it’s incredibly ugly. Places like Victoria’s Secret don’t have a single thing for me, and caters to smaller cup sizes.

So it was a thrill to finally find a shop like, ‘Le Belle Curve’. I was in heaven the moment I walked in! It had literally dozens of pretty-looking bras in my size, in lovely colours and fabrics. I had three bra and panty sets in hand and was looking around for the change rooms when all of a sudden I heard the loveliest feminine voice.

“Why hello, neighbour,” said a woman.

I turned to find a very beautiful, somewhat familiar looking, woman smiling at me.

“I beg your pardon,” I replied, sounding slightly puzzled, not sure where I’d seen her before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that we’re neighbours … I believe you bought the house at the top of my street a few months ago,” she said.

Suddenly it clicked; the reason why she looked vaguely familiar. I had seen her on a number of occasions getting into her car and driving away while I tended to my roses.

We shook hands and she introduced herself as Lisa.

“I’m Julia,” I countered, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She was about my age, possibly slightly older, with gorgeous black hair, flawless white skin and a lovely, curvaceous figure. For some reason, I can’t say why, I liked her immediately. Perhaps it was her easy charm, or the warmth of her smile, or her attentive, blue eyes. Either way, we stood there for what seemed like a half an hour chatting and getting acquainted. I knew early on that I’d made a new friend, and it gave me such a nice feeling — I think must have exuded a happy glow while I stood there talking amiably with her.

She said that she was married, and that she and her husband, Cameron, who was an entertainment lawyer, had been living in their house at the end of my lane for about three years.

It was uncanny how many interests we shared: flowers, books, fashion and fabrics, and, well, big boobs! I assumed her own plight had prompted her to open the store.

By the time we finally stopped talking long enough to realize what time it was, it was closing time. I apologized and started to put the bra sets back on the rack, saying I could come back another time.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s my store and we’re the only ones here. Just let me lock up and I’ll let you try on whatever you like.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

I was so excited about finding such a selection; I really did want to try on a few things. I was going through a period where I felt a bit blah, and desperately needed to feel sexy again. The sets I had picked out were quite skimpy and femmy. Since I so rarely had the chance to buy things like that in my size, I was bound and determined to treat myself to a major lingerie (and perhaps even a swimwear) shopping splurge!

Lisa quickly locked the doors, took me by the hand, and led me – loaded down with silky sexy under things – to the change rooms. She was wearing a very tight, very short mini- skirt, and I couldn’t help but notice that she had the kind of derriere, not to mention the kind of hippy, sashaying walk, that men adore.

The change room was spacious, with a big wall-size mirror – and for once, lighting that didn’t make me look and feel fat and hideous. I stripped off my clothes and slipped on a semi-sheer, stretch mesh bra and panty set in a pretty shade of fuchsia. It was embroidered with a lovely flower motif, and as sheer and skimpy as it was, the bra lifted and supported my big boobs quite well.

“Let’s have a look,” said Lisa from outside.

I felt a bit shy about stepping out in front of a woman I’d only just met in a set of skimpy underwear, but she made me feel so at ease. I opened the door and emerged, naked except for a few bits of delicate fabric.

“What size is the bra?” she asked.

“34E,” I answered.

She bahis firmaları took me back in the change room and stood behind me while I faced the mirror. She reached under my arms and began adjusting the bra; her hands brushing against my breasts.

I felt her fingers touch underneath, where some of my breasts were left exposed.

“You see, this shouldn’t be happening,” she said. “Let me grab a tape measure.”

She came back a moment later and measured me around the ribcage.

“27 inches – so add five,” she declared. “Just as I thought, you’re not a 34. And I’m guessing you’re a larger cup size than an ‘E’, too, judging by the amount of boob that’s sticking out underneath.” She left and came back with a lacy purple bra and thong.

“Try these on, Julia,” she said.

There was an awkward moment while I waited for her to leave so I could change.

“Oh, don’t be silly!” she said smiling. “You don’t expect me to keep coming and going, do you? We have too many pretty things to try on!”

With that I somewhat sheepishly undid the clasp and removed the bra and peeled off the panties. There I was, standing starkers, in front of a woman I’d only just met. Don’t ask me why, but it felt strangely liberating, and, even more strangely, a bit exciting. There was something about Lisa’s gaze. She had a playful twinkle in her eye that was so sexy and engaging. I’d never been with a woman before, nor had I been attracted to one in quite that way, but there was definitely some sexual energy in that change room that day. I had to admit – for the first time in my life, I found myself sexually aroused in the presence of a woman. I found her very attractive.

“My store was definitely made for your body,” said Lisa. “You and I are that rare exception: relatively petite but very large breasted. You’re even bigger than me. You have such lovely breasts – and such large areola.”

I was blushing as I stepped into the thong before trying on the bra. It felt very comfortable, and looked incredibly sexy. Lisa again stepped behind me and adjusted the fit. This time, however, she gently cupped my full bosom in her small hands.

“You see,” she said, her penetrating eyes looking directly into mine through the mirror’s reflection. “Size 32 underneath and 40 inches across the bust: you’re a 32G, my dear.”

Then I felt her step closer towards me; her own breasts pressing slightly against my bare back. She reached around and adjusted the top of the thong. I could feel her soft black hair fall against my neck.

“I think you look fabulous,” she said.

I turned to face her. The air was crackling with sexual energy. I was fairly sure she was feeling some of the same things I was feeing at that moment. She was married, and it didn’t feel the slightest bit like a come-on. I didn’t feel threatened or put off at all. I really didn’t know WHAT to think!

“Thank you,” I replied, looking into her eyes.

We spent the next hour in her shop; she assisting, while I tried on everything from bras to bikinis to teddies to pumps. I left poorer in the purse, but elated. Nothing came of our ‘moment’ that day. Happily, it didn’t get in the way of what quickly developed into a wonderful new friendship. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that we became the very best of friends in a very short period of time.

She was so warm and supportive. We would talk on the phone or over cups of tea for HOURS – about everything from gladiolas, to my lingering hurt from my divorce, to our most intimate thoughts about sex. Sometimes, when I would open up about the pain of my divorce, she would hold me and stroke my hair. And it was during those moments that I felt the most wonderful mixture of affection and sexual arousal. My feelings quickly became more and more complex. But I was like a moth to a flame, and could not, WOULD not pull away from Lisa. Happily, she seemed just as loathe to pull back from me.

At some point during those first initial few weeks, I met her husband, Cameron. He seemed her male counterpart in every respect. His quiet charm matched hers. He was also drop dead gorgeous: quite slim; with a chiseled jaw line, big beautiful eyes with long dark lashes, and dark, short-cropped hair. He seemed delighted by his wife’s new friendship. His work frequently kept him at the office until late. So he said that he was glad Lisa had someone so close by.

On one such night, when Cameron was working late and I was keeping Lisa company, the topic of our chat turned once again to sex. Lisa started talking about her sex life with Cameron and the two of us ended up having a lovely giggle together — as women are sometimes want to do when discussing their sex lives. I had none to speak of at that particular moment in time, so I was quite happy to live vicariously through my friend.

“He’s quite skilled with his tongue,” she said grinning cheekily. “And he can make love for HOURS – sometimes he wears me out!” she laughed. “He found my g-spot one day, and I thought my head was going to pop kaçak iddaa off like a champagne cork!”

Our laughter eventually trailed off, and the two of us sat there smiling at each other.

“Have you ever made love to a woman?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.

“Neither have I.”

Nothing more was said on the subject and we soon started talking about something less fraught with pregnant pauses.

On weekends, the two of us would often go for a swim and some sun in her backyard pool. Lisa filled out her string bikini like a goddess, and I found myself unable to take my eyes off her formidable body. Although her breasts were slightly smaller than mine, she had the sexiest hips and the most glorious behind.

One particularly hot and sunny day, after the sun had dried us off from our swim, Lisa suggested we go inside.

“Would you let me treat you to a massage?” she asked.

How could I refuse? Cameron had so often sung the praises of his wife’s famous massages.

One side of their house was floor to ceiling sliding glass doors. She opened the doors that led from the pool into the carpeted living room, and set up her professional looking massage table so as to allow a cool breeze to blow through while she did her thing.

Never without style or a keen eye for detail, Lisa set up the living room like a sensual oasis. There was a touch of lavender incense, the gentle tinkling of wind chimes, Spanish guitar playing softly on the background sound system, and bottles of scented massage oil all about.

When she was ready for me, I teased her about what a male fantasy the whole thing felt and looked like: standing there, as she was, in a skimpy white bikini, waiting to give her lucky charge a soothing hot oil massage!

I lay face down on the towel-covered table in my own string bikini, and immediately felt her gentle touch against my warm skin.

It felt heavenly: the gentle breeze; the sensual atmosphere; and Lisa gently kneading my body. It all felt so good in fact, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the pleasure of it.

All of a sudden I felt Lisa’s fingers undoing the clasp of my bikini top. Her touch was electric. With each passing moment, I felt more and more tingly all over my body. My feelings confused me, yet I could not deny them. She began to massage my legs. I could feel her touch moving ever so slowly higher and higher up the backs of my thighs towards my bum. The higher she climbed, the more aroused I became. I could feel dampness between my legs. My mind was racing. Was this right for me to feel this way about another woman? Was the nature of my attraction reciprocal?

Then, suddenly, I felt the tie-strings of my bikini bottoms being pulled at.

“Is it okay if I take off your bottoms, Julia?” she asked in her softest, sexiest voice.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I arched my back and raised my bum up slightly, allowing Lisa to strip off my last stitch of clothing.

She continued slowly and sensually kneading my legs, my feet, and my arms. I wanted so much to kiss her. My state of arousal was snowballing out of control. I felt drops of warm oil on my bare bum. My heart raced as I waited for her touch. I felt her hesitate momentarily, before placing her soft hands on my buttocks. She lovingly worked in the hot oil, and I felt drips trickle into the crack of my ass and down towards my already soaking wet pussy.

She paid special attention to my soft, round bum – slowly and lovingly rubbing in the hot oil. I could feel her thumbs almost touch the lips of my pussy as they worked the cheeks of my ass. A soft moan escaped from my lips.

“Why don’t you turn over, sweetie?” she asked.

My heart was pounding as I rolled over and lay on my back. I looked up into her eyes. She sprinkled oil on my tummy and huge boobs. My saucer-size nipples were swollen and puffy and unbelievably sensitive.

“You don’t mind if I take this off, do you?” she asked as she removed her own bikini top.

Her lovely full breasts sprang free, and hung so firm and ripe before me as she bent over and worked in the droplets of oil. When she began massaging my breasts; gently tracing circles around the swollen areola, I could resist no longer.

I reached up and placed my hand on her behind, slipping a few fingers inside the hem of her bikini bottoms.

Lisa looked directly into my eyes and said, “If I was a man I’d so want to fuck you right now. ” There was a short pause before she added, “Actually, I’m a woman, and I STILL really want to fuck you right now. “

“Why don’t you?” I answered breathlessly.

She leaned over, her warm breasts pressed against mine, and searched my eyes with her own. Her gaze moved to my lips, and then she slowly, softly, kissed me.

I almost came from that one kiss. It was electric, and it lasted. When it was over, Lisa took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom where we made love atop her silk sheets.

She stripped of her bikini bottoms and I saw for the first time her exquisite, kaçak bahis neatly trimmed pussy.

She lay with me and our bodies became intertwined. The feeling of another woman’s body pressed against my own was new and exciting. Her soft, heavy breasts felt wonderful against my skin. I could feel her erect nipples when they brushed against me. We kissed and explored each other’s bodies for what seemed like hours. It was all so tender and sensual. She teased and toyed with me, almost but never quite touching my pussy with her fingers, until I finally begged her to place her hand between my legs. When she did, I almost came once again. She kissed her way down my body one last time before tossing her long mane of black hair aside and settling in between my legs. My heart raced in anticipation of her kissing my wet, swollen pussy. When she did, I let out a breathy sigh and closed my eyes.

Being one herself, it was perhaps only natural that Lisa knew just how to please another woman. She knew exactly where and how hard to touch with her fingers; where and how hard to lick with her tongue. And best of all, she knew where to find that delicious little g-spot zone just up and inside a woman’s opening. In no time at all she had me bucking my hips, arching my back and groaning wildly.

I spread the lips of my pussy even wider to afford her greater access. The pleasure was mind-blowing. The first of many orgasms began to build in my tummy. It kept building and building until I felt like my head would explode. Finally, after inserting a few fingers and continuing to lick the nib of my clitoris, I came in a loud, writhing crescendo.

When it was over, a large wet spot on the sheets marked the occasion. We locked in an embrace and kissed and suckled each other’s breasts as the tremors of my orgasm flitted through my body.

We spent the remainder of that afternoon in her bed; intoxicated with each other; making love for several more hours. It was incredible. It was quite unlike sex with a man; equally enjoyable, but different. Different, for no other reason than it’s two people making love with the same bodies.

I experienced a total of eight orgasms that day, and I returned the favour in kind, helping Lisa achieve almost as many. Afterwards, we slept naked in each other’s arms. When we awoke, we took a leisurely shower together in her and Cameron’s spacious stand-up shower.

Best of all, when it was time to leave, there was no post-coital feeling of guilt or regret. We hugged one last time before I left. It had been one of the very best sexual experiences of my life. It was just love. I positively beamed that day. Little did I know what lay ahead.

—————————

The following week, I was slightly taken aback when Lisa told me that she’d explained what had transpired between us to her husband. She said they had always been completely honest with each other in their marriage. I was intensely curious about his reaction, not to mention a bit worried he might have reacted in anger. Quite the contrary, as it turned out. Lisa said he seemed genuinely okay with it. I didn’t press, but I wondered what that meant for Lisa and I. Had they agreed that it was only a harmless, one-time experiment? Was that for the best anyways? I had to admit I hadn’t settled any of that in my OWN mind either.

The next day, Lisa called again and invited me over for some martinis and possibly a swim in the pool or a dip in their Jacuzzi that Saturday night. I readily accepted and asked if there was anything I could bring.

“Just that sexy new bikini you bought at my store,” she replied.

She also mentioned that Cameron would be there that night, and that she was looking forward to seeing him, as he’d been so busy of late.

Saturday arrived and I showed up at their doorstep at about 7. It was a lovely evening: not too hot, with the sun just beginning to set. Feeling summery, I wore a seafoam green- coloured halter-top (to match the sheer bra and panties I had on underneath – all from Lisa’s store, I might add) and a black mini-skirt. Cameron answered the door looking particularly hunky in a powder blue dress shirt and a pair of off-white chinos – without shoes or socks, and looking sexy and casual. He complimented me on my outfit and gave me a kiss on the cheek, making sure not to over react to the prodigious amount of cleavage that appeared above the low cut neckline of my top.

Lisa looked equally fabulous prancing about barefoot in a cute little cotton summer dress.

The sliding doors were all pulled open at the back, and a beautiful, gentle breeze wafted through their expansive living room. I was standing next to the entrance to the deck, looking at the pool, and admiring their view of the city below, when Cameron handed me a chilled, sour apple martini.

It was to be the first of several that evening, and before long, the three of us were happily ensconced in their big, fluffy living room furniture — tipsy and giggly.

It was inevitable, I suppose, that the topic would eventually land on sex. And perhaps fortified by the courage resulting from a few martinis, Lisa brought up out little tryst. I think I blushed a thousand shades of red, but Cameron seemed genuinely happy for us.

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