Claire’s Invitation

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tagFirst TimeClaire's Invitation

"I want you to spend the night with me." She was serious, she was desperate, and I was half-panicked and half-ecstatic to hear it. In the brief span of a few milli-seconds I imagined us married and raising children together. That was the panic part.
"I need you to see what it's like, to hear it for yourself. I just need you, tonight. It's driving me crazy and I don't want to be alone again when they get here. Nothing will happen. I promise. We're adults. I just need you with me."
The Playboy Advisor had assured me that getting into bed with a woman would take a great deal of seduction and planning. I'd been working on such a plan for months without much success; now, suddenly, she was begging me to go to bed with her? It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Claire had been one of my best friends ever since I moved into her neighborhood in junior high school. She was the girl across the street, literally, and the first girl I ever had a serious crush on. Not that she knew that, of course. We were both nerds, bookish, outcasts in a sense, both painfully shy, but somehow we connected with each other. We thought alike. We enjoyed the same things. We made each other laugh. We hung out together as often as we could, but we were just friends. At least, that was all we would admit to each other.
She was a year older than me, which made her seem exotic and worldly. As we grew older, she started including me whenever she and her friends would go off on some wild adventure together. The wildest of her friends was Lydia. I think Claire lived vicariously through Lydia, who partied hard, always had a string of boyfriends, and loved talking about her sexual conquests. Lydia drove a red '64 Mustang convertible, equipped with a flask of whisky and a box of condoms in the glove box, just in case.
Claire and I both marveled and laughed at the stories Lydia told. We assured each other that we could never do what Lydia did, but at the same time, there was something about the way she flaunted the rules that enticed us both, not that we would admit it out loud.
When it came time for Claire and Lydia to start college, they both elected to go a university about an hour away, and they naturally agreed to be roommates. I saw Claire less frequently, but as often as I could, usually driving over to the campus on a Saturday or Sunday to spend the day with her. Lydia would be out of the dorm room, so we had the place to ourselves. We'd sit on her bed and read the newspaper together, or read books to each other, or go for walks together. Boring nerd stuff. Often, we'd find a spot at a bench beside a lake and just sit in silence, watching other people.
We liked each other, but neither of us could find a way to come out and say it. We wanted to be more than just friends, but we didn't know how. I don't know how many times I had thought to myself, this time I'm going to tell her I love her. This time I'm going to kiss her. This time… next time… soon, very soon.
On one of these Saturdays, she seemed unsettled, upset, but she didn't want to talk about it. I tried unsuccessfully to get it out of her, but no dice. It was getting late in the afternoon. We talked about where we would have dinner, and then I said something about the drive home. That's when she dropped the bomb.
"I want you to spend the night with me." It was one of those moments where time slows down, you hear your heartbeat in your head, and the ground beneath your feet seems to be moving.
"Spend the night?" I said, not quite understanding. "Is there something special you'd like us to do tomorrow?"
"No. I mean, yes, I'd love you to stay longer. We could go out for breakfast together or something. But that isn't it. I don't want to be alone tonight. I need you to see what it's like, to hear it for yourself. I just need you to stay with me tonight. It's driving me crazy and I don't want to be alone again when they back."
"I don't understand. What are you talking about? What are you afraid of? Is something wrong?"
She was quiet for a few minutes, and I waited her out. Finally, she said:
"Lydia has a boyfriend. They're sleeping together in our room every night. Well, they're not sleeping much, if you know what I mean! It's embarrassing. She doesn't think it's a big deal, and she says they try to be quiet. But I go to bed and pull the covers over my head and hear them… doing it. And it's driving me crazy. I just thought that it would be nice… oh, I don't know what I thought. You're my best friend, and somehow I thought it would make it easier if you were there with me while, you know… I feel like I'm all alone, and it would help if you knew what it's like. Does that make any sense?"
I probably swallowed audibly.
"I, uh. Hmmm. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. How long has this been going on?"
"Three weeks now. Every night. Well, not every night. Sometimes when his roommate goes off for a night or two, they'll stay in his room. But I guess the roommate has his own girlfriend over, they want some privacy, so Lydia…"
"She asked me if I thought it would be ok, and I didn't feel like I could say no. She already thinks I'm weird. I was hoping it was just going to be one or two nights. I didn't want to be a prude. But now, it's every night. I've tried to mention to her that maybe they could find some other arrangement, but she just laughed me off and said that it was probably a good educational opportunity for me. I guess I have a hard time being confrontational."
She sighed and stared off into the distance. I tried to think of a way out. I guess that sounds crazy. Claire had grown up into a very beautiful woman — well, not movie star beautiful, but to me, she was gorgeous. She had hazel eyes that changed color with the light, a smile that could melt me, she was bright and quick-witted, always fast with a wry joke or a clever comment. She was tall for a women — not as tall as me, but close, and I liked that. Very slim, but curvy in all the right ways. She almost had a Barbie doll shape to her, but if you saw her walking across campus you might describe her as gangly. She was always in a hurry, never paid much attention to her looks, and she went through life oblivious to what others thought of her.
And I loved everything about her.
"So, your room only has the two beds. Two single beds. How do they…?"
She laughed.
"Anytime they're together, they're clamped so tightly in each other's arms you couldn't get a molecule of air between them. They don't seem to need much space, or want it."
I came back with what I thought would be a way to kill the idea.
"We'd have to be kind of close together, too. I mean, we've taken naps together. But it might be pretty uncomfortable for the two of us to share your bed for the whole night. I don't think you'd get much sleep, Claire."
(Alright, yes, I was naïve enough at this point in our relationship to think we might actually sleep while sharing a bed just inches from each other and listening to Lydia and her boyfriend practicing the top 20 positions from the Kama Sutra. What can I say?)
She gave me a look like I was from another planet.
"I promise you, we won't be getting much sleep with the way those two go at it. Please? I really need this. Nothing will happen. We're adults. I just need you with me. I need you to be there for me."
After a few moments of thought, I agreed. I felt like I needed to be there for her. And she was right, we were adults. That was what worried me. And tantalized me. Turned me on, truthfully. In fact, I was already getting hard just thinking about the possibilities.
We ate dinner, we caught a movie, and then we headed back to her dorm room. It was 9:30. I had butterflies in my stomach. Claire all of a sudden couldn't stop talking. When she's nervous, she just starts saying whatever comes into her head.
I interrupted a discourse on Othello.
"So, what time do you normally go to bed, and when do they arrive?"
"They usually get in about 10 or a little after. I try to be in bed with the lights out before they get here. It's less awkward that way."
"Ok. Do you mind if I borrow your toothbrush? I didn't come prepared."
"Oh sure. Go use the bathroom and I'll get some things ready."
When I came back into the room, she had changed into a black, silky nightgown. I'd seen her in it once before. Narrow straps over the shoulders, about mid-thigh length, opaque, but it clung to her in some very interesting ways. She smiled and dashed off to the bathroom herself.
While she was gone, I tried to think how to tactfully raise the question of what I was going to sleep in.
"So, Claire. It's not going to be very comfortable for either of us if I go to bed in my jeans. And, um, the thing is, I didn't bring any pajamas." I chuckled. "In fact, I don't even own any pajamas. Which is the thing. See, I usually sleep… well, no, I've always slept, uhmm, I never wear anything to bed."
It took her a moment. Then her eyes got big.
"You sleep naked!?!"
I nodded, kind of sheepishly.
"It's what I'm used to. I'm not saying, you know… I'm not saying… but I need to do something. I can't sleep in my jeans."
Her face reddened a bit. Then she bounced over to her dresser, rooted around a bit, and came out with a pair of pajama bottoms. Pink and green pajama bottoms. Very small.
"You could wear these!" she said, brightly. "I've had them for years and I still wear them sometimes when I'm in a goofy mood."
I looked closely at them.
"Are those Care Bears? Pink and green Care Bears? How long have you had them? And more to the point, they look awfully tight."
She chuckled. "Well, you can't sleep naked! And anyway, they'll look cute on you. Go try them on."
She stifled a laugh when I came back in the room, and then she turned red again. They were very tight, they came down just below my knees, and, how can I say this… they rather plainly conformed to my cock and balls, which under the pressure of the fabric were beginning to swell, despite my best efforts at concentrating on the 50 states and their capitols.
She quickly switched off the light and we climbed under the covers. Claire slid over against the wall, and I took the outside. We moved around a lot until we finally settled in facing each other. My right arm rested on her waist, her left was on my shoulder. The bed was too short, so I had to bend my knees, which pressed them against her thighs. After a bit, she parted her legs so that my right knee rested on her right thigh. I asked her if she was uncomfortable, but he said she was fine.
We breathed deeply and relaxed into each other's arms. The room wasn't so dark that I couldn't see her. She was smiling, she was happy, she was so beautiful. I leaned forward and kissed her, gently. Her lips were warm and moist, and quickly opened as I pressed against her mouth more firmly and met her tongue with mine. Claire was a great kisser, and the two of us had spent long, quiet afternoons just like this, after waking up from a nap, kissing, tasting each other, touching each other while our lips said the things we didn't seem able to say with words.
We never touched each other sexually. I don't know how we resisted, but we did. I always ended up hard as a rock, but managed to find ways to hide it from her, or so I thought. I assume by the way she poured herself into her kisses that she was aroused, but she somehow managed to hold the reins tight on her passions.
Just then, the door flew open with a burst of laughter, followed by some urgent shushes as Lydia and her boyfriend came into the room.
"Oh, god, oh, baby, I want you so badly tonight. My pussy's already dripping! How do you get me so hot?"
"I want to see your tits."
"They're yours, all yours, Stud." There was the sound of clothing over heads, clothing hitting the floor, more laughter, and then a moan.
"Oh, god, I love it when you suck my tits. Come here." They tumbled into bed, and began a frenzy of wet kisses, wetter slurps, moans, groans, and all sorts of urgent encouragements.
"Do you see what I mean?" Claire whispered. She had pulled the sheet over our heads, but it didn't do anything to quiet the sounds of eros. To say I was turned on is an understatement. I could see them in my imagination, Lydia with her legs spread as her boyfriend went down on her. Her little moans of delight and her urgent whispers of "just like that, oh baby, don't stop" fired my imagination. I'd always thought Lydia was hot, but being 8 feet away while she was building to an orgasm was something I'll never forget.
Which created a problem, naturally. My cock was swollen very uncomfortably down the vise-like left leg of Claire's Care Bear pajamas, and I couldn't have freed myself with a crowbar. I was throbbing in an exquisite kind of agony and kept moving around, trying to get comfortable.
"What's wrong?" Claire asked.
"I'm just having a hard time… these pajamas aren't very comfortable all of a sudden… oh shit!"
"What? What's wrong?" she whispered.
The Care Bears had held on as long as they could, but my cock had just burst through the seam of Claire's ancient pajama bottoms. Freed at last, my rock hard dick sprung from its cloth prison and pressed itself, throbbing, against Claire's soft, warm thigh.
"What… oh, my god, is that…?"
"Shit. I'm sorry. I think I've split your pajamas apart." I chuckled, laughed, and then tried to stifle my laughter as my cock bounced its way up her thigh.
"Stop that! Oh my god, do something!" She was still whispering, but more urgently. Meanwhile, Lydia had come very loudly, and by the change in the quality of the slurping, seemed now to have a mouth full of her boyfriend's cock.
"They're really going at it, aren't they?" I chuckled, trying to take her mind off of our more immediate dilemma. She looked into my eyes and smiled, then laughed herself.
"Turns you on, doesn't it?"
"Definitely. Absolutely. But what turns me on even more is being right here, with you, where it's warm, dark, and there's only this flimsy nightgown between us. You're a very sexy woman, Claire, way more beautiful than Lydia. Maybe you don't believe that, but it's so true. I'm sorry about this little problem…"
"Big problem, you mean." She smiled again.
"Yes, it's big. It's your fault. You turn me on. You've always turned me on. I want to kiss you and touch you all over. I want to make you feel what Lydia's feeling. I want to make you cum. I want to give you the sort of high you'll never forget."
She kissed me, and as she did, she moved her legs and trapped my bouncing cock between her warm thighs. Our tongues danced together sloppily and I started to let my fingers roam. I caressed her back and felt the satin fabric of her nightgown moving over her firm muscles. I made circles in her muscles with my fingertips, then slipped my hand to her waist and moved upwards, only to be stopped by her left elbow. I squeezed her waist and ran my hand down over her hip, then cupped her round ass and pulled her closer to me. She stopped kissing me and breathed in heavily, then raised her arm slightly.
I took the hint. I traced the outline of her tummy, her ribcage, and finally reached the summit by cupping her left breast. Oh my god! It was firm and more than I could grasp in my hand. I squeezed and kneaded her breast lovingly and searched with my thumb until I found her hard nipple. Then I rolled it gently between my thumb and forefinger, tenderly doing what I knew instinctively she would love. She stopped breathing, gasped, and her mouth opened ever so slightly. Her nipple swelled as I teased it. Then she pushed me away.
I wondered if she'd finally come to her senses, and I was ready to quit when she began wiggling and moving, pulling her nightgown over her head. Then she smiled brightly, pulled me close and we kissed again, skin against skin, her breasts crushed against my chest. I let my hands roam and realized that she wasn't wearing any panties. Her skin was almost painfully hot, soft, firm but supple, and she wiggled some more until my cockhead was firmly wedged against her warm, moist bush. I thought I might faint, and suddenly I realized that I wasn't paying any attention to Lydia any longer. My focus was entirely on this sexy beauty in my arms.
I pushed her onto her back and kissed her neck, her throat, her shoulders, down her chest, along the valley between her breasts, then I filled my mouth first with one and then with the other. I began flicking her nipples with my tongue, then worked ravenously on her right breast with my mouth while I teased her left on with my fingers. All my dreams, all my fantasies, all the Playboy centerfolds were nothing like this.
While still kissing her nipples, I slid my hand flat along her soft tummy, stopping briefly at her belly button before moving down to her thighs. I could reach her knees and gave them a squeeze before gently stroking my fingers along her thighs one at a time, careful to avoid her pussy, feeling her hips rise each time my hand moved up towards her garden.
I couldn't wait any longer.
I tangled my fingers into her bush and she gasped. Then I slipped my fingers between her wet lips and covered them in her juices. I had dreamt about this for so long. I raised my fingers to my mouth and licked them clean. I can't describe the taste. A hint of spice; a hint of honey. I could drink from her pussy and never be thirsty again. I pressed my fingers into her lips and found her clit, swollen, reaching out for something to touch. I started off slowly, stroking her with the lightest possible touch, only stopping ever so briefly to press my finger deep into her vagina and get them sopping wet. I set up a rhythm on her clit that duplicated what my tongue was doing to her nipples, and she responded by putting both hands in my hair and pulling me hard into her breast.
I picked up my speed, working as gently as possible on her sensitive clit while at the same time focusing all of my energy on that one delightful pleasure spot. Her hands released my head and went to the sheets. She grasped them in her fists, like she was holding on for dear life against a hurricane. Her breathing came in gasps. Her muscles tensed. Her legs stretched out to their full length. Her body twitched and jumped involuntarily.
And then, like a thunderclap at the start of a summer storm, she exploded in the most powerful wave of pure delight that I have ever witnessed. Her body jerked and shook. An animal moan rose from her core. Her body flushed with heat and she broke out in a sheen of sweat. I kept going, kept stroking, but I let my thumb do the work while I slipped my fingers inside of her and searched out her G-spot. Now I was stroking her clit, sucking her nipples, and rubbing a slippery bundle of nerves deep inside her pussy.
She seemed to lose control of herself. Her body was running on autopilot, slaved to the sensations building up inside of her, her mind disconnected temporarily by an overload of pleasure. She was rocking. Her eyes were shut tight. She was alternately grimacing and laughing, twitching and straining, until she let out an involuntary scream and shook the bed so much that I thought she would toss me out on the floor. She grabbed my hand and pulled it away from her pussy, then panted like she had just finished a marathon, kissing my fingers between gasps. I stopped kissing her and pressed my hand firmly back over her pussy, just holding it there to feel the crazy energy of her orgasms as they subsided.
I thought for certain that Lydia would be sitting up in bed cheering, but as Claire quieted down, we could hear quiet snoring from the other bed. I'm sure she was relieved.
"I don't know what you did to me, but I've never felt anything like that ever. Ever. My sweet, sweet man. My dear, sweet lover. Thank you. Oh my god, that was… that was mind blowing. I've never felt so loved, so incredibly loved. Oh my god. I'm wrecked. I'm completely wrecked."

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