Novel Experience (Sara Miles) Read Online Free Page B

pretty little things that Gail gets away with all the time. Her and her boyshorts. I decide to take them down with my pants and save myself the mild embarrassment. I leave the bunched pants and panties hugging my knees. I like the added bit of confinement they offer.
    I feel Gail’s eyes on me, but when I glance over, her gaze is back on the TV. Mine linger on her. Her panties are visible now—black lace, vaguely see-through. She rests the palm of her hand on her mound, her fingers lightly brushing her lips through the silk crotch. I can’t see to know for sure, but I imagine they're a little damp with wetness.
    God, I am wet. I slide a finger down between my lips and a shiver rolls through me. It catches Gail’s attention, and she involuntarily arches her hips slightly, pressing herself against her hand. She watches me slide my fingers up and down, just parting my lips with my fingertips. My eyes are locked to her tense thighs.
    I don’t tell her that I want to have my head between those thighs, feeling them tense and clench as I lick her. I want to. At least, the wine and mango vodka makes me want to. But no, despite her revelation about getting worked up over that chapter I’d written, she is still the same Gail. Horny, but conventional. And married. Would that even be cheating? Was what we were doing now even a kind of cheating? I realize that I’m thinking myself out of an orgasm, so I set aside the questions and just watch her slim, gorgeous body writhe on the couch next to me. I’ve given up the pretense of watching the men’s asses on the television, but Gail either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
    She lifts her shirt off over her head, and I get an eyeful of her round, perfect breasts—curved in just the perfect way, topped with two small, dark brown nipples. She pinches one between thumb and forefinger as she moves her hand under the waistband of her panties. I’d rather her take them off completely, giving me a view of her neatly trimmed little bush, but she rarely does that.
    She watches the men on the television, now getting attention from some newly-arrived women. The focus changes to their bodies rather than that of the men.
    “Want me to rewind?” I ask, somewhat breathless.
    “No, I think I need to watch them do it,” she says.
    “Alright,” I sigh, happy to keep my hand where it is.
    It isn’t long before the women are spread open for the men. Cue the requisite shots of penetration, which never do much for me. Soon the camera angles change, showing more of the women. My fingers dance along my cleft, teasing my clit. I know it won’t take me long to come, but somewhere along the line I’ve decided to hold off for Gail so I could orgasm while watching her come. Every moment that passes becomes more difficult though, between the tight bodies on the screen and Gail’s tight body beside me. She spreads open a bit wider, pulling her panties to the side. Our legs brush each other, and I feel her tense in that way you do when you’re not sure if physical contact is appropriate. I press my leg firmly against hers, and she relaxes against me. I feel pressure building inside me, and so with excruciating difficulty I slow the pace of my fingers yet again.
    Gail pinches her nipple as she rocks her hand against her mound. Her panties have worked down even lower, well past her hip bones and enough that I can see her fingers darting in and out in short little explorations, shining with her own wetness. I slide down next to her, resting myself against her arm. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind. It gives me a better view of her left hand as it plays with her stiff nipples. She opens her legs more, and I reach down. I do it almost without thinking, on some sudden primal impulse. It would be lying to say I don’t intend it, but I’m at war with myself over it. I slide my hand into the crook of her knee, pulling her leg over mine. When she doesn’t resist, my own war ends. I release the breath