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Message-ID: <40474asstr$1042722603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <steiner_al@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} NEW: An April Night by Al Steiner (MF,FF) 1/2
Date: Thu, 16 Jan 2003 08:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This is the last of the three stories I posted at Ruthiesclub.com in July.
This one is a little different in that it is written in third person and
from the female point of view.  As always, let me know what you think about
it, feedback is what I write for.  And this one is dedicated to and written
for a very special person in my life, I'll leave her name out of it for her
own protection.  Send all comments to Steiner_al@hotmail.com















An April Night

By Al Steiner

1/2













It was one of those evenings when the sex was particularly good between
them.  After ten years of marriage it still delighted them that they could
enjoy evenings like this.  They had started off in the living room, after
the children had gone to bed for the night.  Roger had found an adult movie
at the rental place that appealed to both of them - something with lots of
steamy sex scenes and some semblance of a plot.  They drank a bottle of
chilled white wine while they watched and gradually their fingers began to
probe under clothing, to grasp at slippery and erect parts.  Soon the movie
was completely forgotten as they shed their garments and moved to the floor
next to the couch.



Monica Benton was 30 years old on this night.  She sighed in contentment as
her husband moved his mouth down across her neck and onto her bare breasts.
They were C-cups, neither too large nor too small, a perfect handful for his
fingers, the nipples a perfect size to fit between his lips.  He suckled her
gently, sending tingles of pleasure up and down her body.  He kissed his way
further south, across her ribs and down to her stomach.  The flesh here was
smooth and baby soft.  The few stretch marks from her pregnancies only added
character to it.  He ran his tongue back and forth across her tummy, paying
particular attention to the belly button.  Finally he moved his head even
further down.  Her legs opened to accommodate him, her sex swollen and wet,
the dark brown bush of pubic hair damp with her fragrant juices.



Her legs slid up and down his bare shoulders as she waited for him to put
his mouth upon her.  He hesitated teasingly, picking up the wine glass that
he had been sipping from.  It was still half full of chardonnay.  He moved
it until it was just above her pussy lips.



"What are you doing?" she said breathlessly.



"Just flavoring my meal a bit,' he answered teasingly.



 "Don't you dare spill any of that on the carpet."



He didn't answer.  Instead he tipped the glass slowly, letting a small
stream of the liquid spill out onto her sex.  She moaned as she felt the
cold wine on her lips.  He lowered his head and put his tongue to her,
licking up what he had spilled.  The contrast of cold and hot made her cry
out in pleasure.



He ate her for more than fifteen minutes, drawing two sharp orgasms from her
body.  Finally she demanded that he fuck her and that he fuck her hard.  He
was only too happy to oblige.  He climbed atop and slid his hardness
deliciously inside of her.



They rutted on the floor for another fifteen minutes, their bodies becoming
sweaty and slick, their odor rising into the air, their hearts beating
faster and faster.  Monica came two more times before Roger spilled his seed
within her, blasting her cervix with wet warmth.



Afterward, they lay together on the floor, side by side, the ceiling fan
slowly revolving above them, sending a draft down to dry their sweaty skin.
Monica felt content, fulfilled, but at the same time, she DIDN'T, at least
not the way she thought that she should.  Something was missing from her
life, something that she craved like a drug and always had, something that
had bothered her ever since her adolescence.



She looked over at Roger.  He was staring upward, a relaxed expression upon
his face.  She wanted to tell him her secret, had been working herself up to
the confession for weeks.  Now it was time.  The circumstances for the
telling could never be better.



"Honey?" she said softly, feeling her nerves clench up, wanting to abort the
confession before it even started.  She had no idea how he would react.  But
at the same time, she had to tell him, had to get it off her chest before it
tore them apart.



"Yeah?" he said, almost dreamily as his fingers played idly with her thigh.



"I have something that I need to... uh... tell you."



His eyes opened a little wider at her tone.  His head turned to look at her.
"What is it?" he asked slowly.



She took a deep breath, feeling tears spring to her eyes.  Her mouth refused
to open and say the words.  God, she couldn't really say this to him, could
she?  What would he think of her?  Would he divorce her?  Would he try to
take the children away from her?



Alarmed at the way that a pleasant evening had suddenly turned so serious,
he rolled up on his side and put his hands on her shoulders.  "Honey," he
said gently, "what is it?  Why are you crying?"



"Never mind," she said, shaking her head, feeling herself chicken out.  This
wasn't the right time to bring it up.  It just wasn't the right time.



"I can't never mind now," he said, all sorts of evil possibilities going
through his head.  Was she having an affair?  Had she met someone else?
After all, their relationship had been a bit strained over the last few
years, strained in some way that he had never quite been able to put his
finger on.  They fought over the littlest things at times, with no
underlying reason readily apparent.  They seemed on different wavelengths
much of the time and he had no idea why.  Was the final hammer about to fall
here?  Was she about to confess some terrible sin to him?  "What is it?
What do you need to tell me?"



"Oh god," she said, breaking into sobs.



He held her to him, feeling her skin against his, feeling her tears on his
bare shoulder.  He caressed her with his hands and whispered soothing words
into her ear.  At last she calmed down once again, allowing him to gently
probe at her to reveal her secret, whatever it might be.



"I have a problem," she said at last, trembling, wishing that she'd never
brought this up.  Roger was going to hate her.  She just knew it.



"A problem?" he said.  "What kind of problem?"



"A problem with... with... with... you know... women."



He blinked.  "With... women?" he asked.  "I'm not sure I'm following you
here hon."



Another deep breath.  "I uh... like women," she told him.  "You know?  LIKE
them."



"You mean that you're attracted to them?" he said slowly.



More tears fell.  She felt the sobs coming back.  "Yes," she managed to
choke out.  "I'm attracted to women.  I like looking at them.  I can't help
it!  I've tried to not think about it and I've tried not to... you know...
be like that.  But I can't!  And I can't pretend that I'm not like that any
more!"



His face remained expressionless.  His hands slowed in their comforting
strokes upon her shoulders.  "You're telling me that you are sexually
attracted to women?" he said at last.



"Yes," she said ashamedly.  "That's what I'm telling you."



He swallowed a few times.  "How long have you... uh... been like this?" he
asked.



She wiped a tear from her face.  "Since I was a teenager," she admitted.
"Ever since I started to get boobs and have my period.  It's always bothered
me that I feel this way but I can't help it.  I just can't help it!"



His face flushed a little.  "Do you uh... I mean are you still attracted to
ME?  Were you EVER attracted to me?"



"Oh god yes," she assured him quickly and truthfully.  "I'm not a lesbian.
I like looking at guys just as much as girls.  I love you and I'll always
love you and I love... you know... having sex with you.  It's just that I
also have this... this... craving for women too."  She shook her head
miserably.  "I can't help it.  I really can't!"



He nodded thoughtfully, many things suddenly becoming clear about his wife
in an instant.  The clues had been there for him their entire relationship;
he had just never bothered putting them together before.  He had always
known that Monica was different than the other women he had dated in his
life, different than the wives of his friends.  Monica LIKED to watch
pornographic movies with him, had actually bought them herself on occasion.
And hadn't she always seemed more than passingly interested in the
female-female scenes in such productions?  Hadn't she, in fact, once bought
a movie that consisted entirely of such scenes, claiming that she'd done it
by accident?  And hadn't she watched that movie with him anyway, fucking him
afterward with an enthusiasm that was rarely matched?  And the computer they
owned.  Wasn't he always finding adult web sites in the history folder?  Web
sites that featured big breasted women?  Web sites that he knew that he
himself had never visited?  And then there was the way that she looked at
other women.  Hadn't he noted on occasion that it seemed a little more than
the casual competitive glances that most women gave one another?  Hadn't it
seemed that she was almost ogling them at times?



"Honey?" Monica said, her voice breaking pathetically.  "Do you... do you...
hate me?"



"Hate you?" he asked, genuinely shocked that she would think such a thing.
"No.  Why would you say that?"



"Well... because I just told you that I'm some sort of pervert.  I'd
understand if you hated me.  Really I would.  I just..."



He shook his head strenuously.  "You're not a pervert babe," he assured her.
"It sounds like you're bisexual.  That occurs through no fault of yours and
it doesn't make you a bad person."  He cleared his throat a little.  "To
tell you the truth, this whole discussion has kind of turned me on."



"Turned you on?" she asked, shocked, thinking that he was putting her on.
And then she looked down at his cock, which, despite the fact that he had
just spent in her, was now well over three-quarters hard once again.  Yes,
he was definitely turned on.  It wasn't often that he recharged that
quickly.  "Why would that make you excited?"



"Baby," he said sincerely, "you have just told me something that every man
dreams of having his wife tell him.  I am far from offended."



"Men want their wives to be bisexual?" she asked, astounded.



"Hell yeah," he said with a lascivious grin.  "We love that whole woman on
woman thing.  It's hot.  Even those religious fanatics that scream about it
probably whack off thinking about two chicks going at it."  He looked at her
pointedly.  "Have you ever... you know... done anything with another woman?"



"No," she said.  "I've always tried to keep this buried.  It's just in the
past two years that it wouldn't stay buried anymore."



"Not even a little kissing or titty squeezing?"



She laughed for the first time since initiating the discussion, realizing
that she felt much better, as if a great weight had been lifted off her
shoulders.  Nothing had changed of course, but at least her secret was no
longer a secret.  "No, not even a little titty squeezing," she told him.



He seemed disappointed by this revelation but quickly shrugged it off.  "But
you WANT to though, don't you?"



"Yes," she replied,  "I want to.  I won't of course, but I feel better
just..."



"You won't?" he interrupted.  "Why not?"



"Well... because it would be cheating on you," she told him.  "I would never
do that."



He turned serious again.  "Listen babe," he told her.  "If you were to go
out and screw some dude, then I would consider that to be cheating and I
would respond appropriately.  But if you were to go out and have sex with
another woman..." he shook his head, "... it's just not the same thing.  I
have no problem whatsoever with you doing that.  In fact, I will actively
encourage you to do that."



She wasn't completely sure that she was hearing him right.  "You... want me
to go have sex with another woman."



"Yes," he replied.  "I want you to be happy.  If that's something that you
want to do, I'm all for it.  All I ask is that you don't hide it from me.  I
want to know when you do it."



This was all quite overwhelming for her.  She had started this discussion
with the idea that her husband might be kicking her out of the house when it
was done.  Now he was telling her to go ahead and do what she had always
wanted to do, what she had always fantasized about.  She didn't know how to
respond.



He convinced her however, that he was serious about what he said.   They
stayed up for two more hours, discussing the ramifications of what had been
learned and what was being suggested.  They finished another bottle of wine
while they talked of what kind of woman she would like to make love to and
what she would like to do to her.  Twice during the discussion they became
so excited that they screwed like animals right there on the floor.



In the end, she happily agreed that she would pursue such a relationship if
the opportunity presented itself.  From that point on, their marriage took a
subtle but marked change for the better.  Honesty had a way of doing that.







+++++









More than a year passed.  Though their marital relationship still had its
ups and downs, as any such relationship does, much of the strain that had
marked the previous year had evaporated now that her secret was out.  She
had accepted the fact that she was bisexual and with the acceptance much of
the shame and embarrassment evaporated as well.  She was no longer afraid to
admire the smooth forms of women.  She was no longer afraid to discuss her
feelings about this with Roger.  In fact, they now had great fun comparing
notes with each other about who was attractive, who wasn't, who the other
would like to get their hands and/or mouth upon.



The only problem was that she had still not been able to act upon her
desire.  She wanted to make love to another woman with all of her heart and,
thanks to the discussions with Roger, she was reasonably certain that she
could do such a thing without affecting her marriage.  The problem was
FINDING the right woman to make love to.  This had turned out to be much
more of an obstacle than she ever would have thought.



It wasn't that she didn't know any lesbians.  On the contrary, as a nurse in
St. Vincent's Hospital Emergency Room, she frequently came into contact with
many women who enjoyed the fair sex.  Many of the female paramedics who
brought patients to her day after day were lesbians, as were a few of the
nurses and even one of the doctors.  One of the paramedics, Sydney Redding
of Medic 8, had even come on to her a few times, seeming to sense the
desires within her.  But all of those women were very butch.  Even Sydney,
who was perhaps the most feminine of them, had short hair, bulging muscles,
and tattoos.  Monica didn't want a butch lesbian; she wanted a soft, cuddly
female to sleep with.  In specific, she wanted a tall, feminine woman with
large breasts and nice legs.  She wanted someone who looked like her.



She knew that all lesbians and bisexual women could not possibly be of the
bull-dyke category.  It just seemed that all of the ones who openly
advertised themselves as being of that orientation were.  There had to be a
woman of the sort that she desired somewhere, within reach.  There was just
no easy way to identify them and to hook up with them, not without revealing
herself as a bisexual anyway, something that she was loath to do in the
close-knit emergency medical community in which she worked or in the even
closer-knit world of law enforcement wife that she lived in.



Several times since confessing her desires to Roger and being given the
go-ahead to pursue them, she had thought that she was receiving signals from
women that she came into contact with.  One had been a temporary billing
clerk in the emergency room, a thin, exquisitely fit woman who had made a
point of touching her arm, her shoulder, her back whenever circumstance
allowed it.  Another had been the girlfriend of one of her husband's cop
friends at the Sheriff's Department Christmas party.  This woman had
actually danced with her out on the floor, close enough for their breasts to
rub together through their clothing.  Yet another had been one of the single
mothers at her children's elementary school.  They had drank lattes together
for several weeks running after dropping off the children and the woman had
made a point of mentioning how sexually frustrated she was since her
divorce.



All of these women she would have slept with in an instant had she been
given the chance.  But none of them had given her quite enough of a hint
that sexual contact was what they were after and Monica, inexperienced at
this game of female-female love and very cognizant of her reputation, had
been unwilling to take the chance and provide a hint of what she would be
willing to do.



"You want to be seduced, don't you?" Roger had asked her after one such
relationship had failed to come to fruitation.  It seemed at times that he
wanted her to consummate her desires as much as she did.



"Yes," she'd agreed.  "I think that's what I need for this first time.  I
need the other woman to make the first move, to let me know exactly what she
wants from me.  I want her to be the aggressor.  I don't know how to do it."



"Someone will come along," he told her encouragingly, his hand caressing her
bare breast.  "God will provide."



"I just hope that he provides soon," she pouted.  "I'm walking around with
my panties wet all the time thinking about it.  If I don't do it soon, I
think I'm going to explode."





+++++







April Wilson began working in the emergency room about a month later.  She
was very tall, nearly six feet in height, though reasonably well
proportioned for her stature.  Her hair was a lusciously dark shade of
brown, cut to shoulder length and carelessly curled in a fashion that was
curiously attractive.  Her legs were long and lean, or at least they
appeared to be beneath the baggy scrub pants that she wore on duty.  Perhaps
most impressive about her were her breasts, which were well above the
average size.  The first time that Monica laid eyes upon her she felt a gush
of moisture flooding her sex as she imagined those beautiful breasts bared
before her, as she imagined those long legs wrapped around her back while
her face was buried between them.  The attraction was so powerful that she
shuddered a little.  She was actually tongue-tied when Mandy, the charge
nurse, introduced her to April and asked her to help orient her to the
department.



It took only eight hours of working with her for Monica to figure out that
there was some sort of electricity between the two of them.  It was a
current similar to what she had felt with the husband's friend's girlfriend,
with the billing clerk, with the school mother, similar but more powerful,
more defined.  By the end of that first day together they were chatting like
lifelong friends, sharing intimacies with each other that even best friends
sometimes withheld.  They had lunch together in the cafeteria during their
shift and they stopped at a nearby bar after it for a drink.  By the time
she got home her panties were so wet that she feared the odor of her arousal
was leaking out.  The moment she went through her front door she stripped
off her clothing and virtually attacked Roger, who had been dozing off in
the bedroom.



"You must've met a new woman today," he grunted as she swallowed his
semi-hard cock in her mouth and began sucking him to a full erection.



"Is it that obvious?" she asked between licks and sucks, as her hand played
between her legs.



"Let's just say that I've come to recognize the signals," he told her
between moans as she devoured him.



She sucked up and down until he was nice and hard and then slid up his body,
so that she was straddling him.  Taking his wet cock in her hand she put it
against the swollen, dripping lips of her pussy and sank down upon him in
one quick motion.  She fucked up and down enthusiastically, rubbing her
aching clit against his pubic bone with each downthrust.  Soon a powerful
orgasm went rippling through her.  Roger's seed blasted into her body
shortly after.



"So tell me about her," he said later, as they lay atop the covers, basking
in the afterglow.



"Her name is April," she said dreamily.  "She just transferred to the ER
from upstairs somewhere.  She's been divorced for a year and has two kids."



"I don't care about that crap," Roger said with feigned exasperation.  "What
does she look like?  And does she like eating beaver?"



She slapped at him playfully.  "You have such an eloquent way of terming
things, you know that?"



"Yes, I do," he replied seriously.  "So give.  What are the vital
statistics?  Let's hear the story."



And so she told him about the shift that she had just enjoyed in the company
of her new friend.  She admitted that there had been no overt discussion of
sexuality or even any innuendo in that direction.  But all the same she felt
that there had been SOMETHING firing between the two of them.



"That's bitchin baby," he said encouragingly.  "Maybe this one is the one
you've been waiting for."



She soured a little.  "Maybe," she said, doubt creeping into her voice.
"I'm still stuck with the same old problem of how to pursue it though.  I
mean, I might be wrong about her, probably am in fact."



"Just feel her out a little... uh, so to speak anyway.  See if she drops any
hints.  Maybe drop a few of your own."



"That's where it all falls apart though," she complained.  "If I make some
sort of pass at her and I'm wrong, do you have any idea how humiliated I
would be?  Everyone would know about me then.  Everyone."



"Maybe she's having the same problem," he suggested.  "Maybe all of the
women that you've met were having that problem."



"Maybe," she said with a shrug.  "I just need the other woman to make the
first move.  That's the only way I'm going to be able to do this.  I can't
take the chance that I'm wrong about what they want from me."



"Well, see what develops," he told her.  He yawned and then began to drift
off to sleep.  Soon he was snoring away.  Monica lay awake for a long time
after, thinking about April and what she would like to do with her.





+++++





Monica continued to orient April to her new job for the rest of that
workweek.  As the days went by and she showed her the ropes of working in a
busy emergency room, the two of them became closer and friendlier with each
other.  They ate their lunch together in the cafeteria each day and they
went by the bar for a nightcap when the shift was over.  As they spent more
and more time together and as they talked of their lives, their hopes, their
children, Monica found herself growing increasingly infatuated with her new
co-worker.  She had to fight to keep from staring at those large breasts as
they moved from one place to the other and as they cared for the endless
stream of patients that filtered through the department.  She wanted to
touch those breasts with her hands, feel them and squeeze them between her
fingers, tweak the nipples.  She wanted to taste them with her mouth, lick
them and suckle them and feast upon them.  At times it seemed like her mouth
was watering from the sight of them, particularly when they moved patients
from one bed to another, which would cause April's scrub top to fall away
from her chest and allow her a tantalizing view down the front.



Never, during any of this time, did April give any indication that she might
be interested in a sexual interlude with Monica.  Though she made no secret
of the fact that she hadn't enjoyed a man's company in well over six months,
she gave no hints as to whether or not she would enjoy a woman's.  Monica,
in keeping with her policy of maintaining a low profile regarding her own
desires, made no such hint as well.  She behaved only as a friend, not as a
woman who lusted after someone.  Each night when she got home she mounted
Roger with her wet pussy and ground herself to a semi-satisfying orgasm to
relieve the tension that had built up over the course of the day.



"So are you getting anywhere with her?" Roger asked her on Friday night, as
they lay in bed after the latest act of sexual frenzy.



"Not really," she admitted.  "She hasn't given me any sort of clue that she
even swings the other way.  Maybe this magnetism that I'm feeling is just in
my head.  Maybe it's just because I want to... you know... do it so bad.  My
mind might be playing tricks on me."



"I suppose that's possible," Roger told her analytically.  "But if nothing
else, I'm surely reaping the benefits of this thing.  I've been laid every
night for a week."



She grinned affectionately at him.  "I guess she does have a rather powerful
effect on me.  I hope you don't mind me using you as a vibrator when I get
home."



"The vibrator's at your service," he told her, giving her a kiss on the
cheek.



"Well," she said as she snuggled up to her man and prepared to drift off to
sleep, "let's see what happens next week.  I have one more week to orient
her.  If nothing else, I'll come home horny every night."







+++++





The next week went pretty much the same as the one before it.  They worked
side by side all day, had lunch together in the cafeteria, and then had a
nightcap together after the shift ended at 11:00 PM.  Their conversations
remained on the typical female-female level, never inching into anything
else.  Monica continued to ogle April's breasts whenever she could get away
with it and continued to come home with wet panties every night.  The
magnetism that she sensed from her friend however, seemed to persistently
flow between them, making it hard to convince herself that it was all in her
mind.



"I swear I caught her checking out my boobs a few times," she told Roger on
Thursday night as they lay in bed.  "Believe me, as someone who always
checks out other women and pretends not to, I know what it looks like."



"So make a move," Roger prompted her, not for the first time.  "Drop some
sort of hint to her and see what she does.  Make it something that you can
pass off as a joke if she takes it the wrong way."



She shook her head strenuously.  "I just CAN'T!" she complained.  "I
couldn't pull it off.  You know me.  I can't lie worth a shit."



Roger had to agree with her there.  She couldn't lie worth a shit.  "Well,
maybe something will work out," he told her.  "And if not, at least you get
to stare at her tits all day."



It was Friday, the last day of their workweek, that something different
happened.  They were in the cafeteria, eating the hospital's version of
chicken enchiladas, when April told Monica that she would have to bow out of
the after-work drink that night.



"Really?  How come?" Monica said, hiding her disappointment.  The late
evening stops at the bar - with its intimate, non-workplace environment -
were when she enjoyed April's company the most.



"I have to go to the gym tonight when I get off," she replied with a sour
face.  "I haven't worked out since my transfer became effective.  I hate
doing it, but I have one of those metabolisms that makes me plump right up
if I don't keep up with my exercise."



Monica nodded knowingly.  "I have the same thing," she told her.  "I guess
our bodies are pretty similar."



"Very similar," April agreed, seeming to run her eyes quickly up and down
Monica's form.  And was there a hint of appreciation in that look?



"I usually go to the gym in the morning before I come to work," Monica said
next, feeling tingly all over from the possibly imagined scrutiny she had
just undergone.  "Do you go to one of those twenty-four hour workout
places?"



"Yes," she said.  "Riley's gym over on Azevedo Avenue.  It's really cool
going there at 11:30 at night.  Hardly anyone is in there, it's quiet, I
don't have to wait for any of the machines, and if I want to swim, the pool
is usually empty too."



"Really?" Monica said.  "I never thought about that.  Maybe I should look
into joining up there.  I'd much rather work out before I come home instead
of before I go to work.  That way I wouldn't be sore and tired all day."



"If you want," April offered, "you could come with me sometime as a guest.
Then you could check it out and see if you like it there or not."



"Sure, I'd like that."



"Well how about tonight then?" she asked her.  "Think you could handle two
workouts in a day?"



Monica smiled.  "I think I could handle it.  I'll have to run home first and
get my clothes."



"No problem.  You said you didn't live too far from here, right?"



"Just ten minutes away."



"Cool.  I'll just wait out in the parking lot for you then.  It'll be nice
to have someone to work out with for once."



"Yeah," Monica said, feeling a fresh gush of moisture flooding her as she
thought of April dressed in spandex.  "It really will be."







+++++





They pulled into the parking lot of Riley's 24 Hour Workout at 11:50 that
night.  They were able to park up front since there were only two other cars
present.  April led Monica inside the building where they signed in with a
bored looking employee who was watching Jay Leno on a small television set.
After passing through the foyer they entered the main part of the gym
itself, with its rows of exercise machines, treadmills, stationary bicycles,
and weight machines.  Only two of the machines were currently in use, one, a
bike, contained a middle-aged man who was pedaling away, the other a
treadmill where an even older woman was marching off miles.  Carrying their
gym bags in their hands they walked to the entrance of the female locker
room and went inside.



Rows of lockers took up the bulk of the room, a long bench stretching
between each row.  On the far wall were a series of private shower stalls.
April led Monica to the center of the room and her assigned locker.  She
dropped her bag onto the bench, opened the combination lock, and swung the
door open.  The inside of the locker was empty except for a few bottles of
water and a box of tampons.



"You can stash your scrubs in my locker while we work out," she said,
opening her bag and pulling out her workout clothes.  "You brought clothes
for afterward, didn't you?"



"Uh... yes," Monica said, looking at the spandex shorts and sports bra that
her friend held in her hand.



"Good," April told her, offering a slight smile.  "Let's get changed then."



Without any further ado, she pulled off her scrub shirt and dropped it to
the bench, leaving her standing in a white cotton bra that confined her
large breasts tightly.  She reached behind her and undid the clasp, letting
the bra drop free and exposing those huge mammaries to the air.  April saw
that the nipples, which were the size of dimes, were partially erect.  She
had to restrain the urge to lick her lips.



Realizing that she was almost staring at her friend and that in a moment her
actions would begin to seem inappropriate, she began fumbling with her own
clothing.  She kicked off her shoes and then pulled her shirt over her head,
setting it down on the bench.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw that
April, her chest still bare, had dropped her pants, revealing a slinky pair
of purple panties that were almost brief enough to be considered a thong.
They were also somewhat translucent, allowing her to see the dark shadow of
her friend's pubic hair - which looked as if it had been trimmed into a
narrow strip - showing through.  Again she fought back the urge to sigh, to
lick her lips, to make some gesture of appreciation at the partial nudity
before her.



"Are you all right?" April asked as she unfolded her sports bra and tried to
find the proper alignment for donning it.  "You look a little funny."



"Uh, yeah, sure," Monica told her dismissively, although she felt a blush
rising to her face.



April either didn't notice or pretended not to.  She played with the sports
bra for another few seconds and then pulled it over her head and down her
chest, finally tucking her breasts into it and hiding them from view
(although a very nice cleavage was left behind).  She then reached down and
picked up her black spandex shorts, which she stepped daintily into and
pulled up her long, lean legs.



"Your legs are really nice," Monica couldn't help but say as she dropped her
own scrub pants, leaving her standing in only panties and bra.  "You must
work on them a lot."



"That's where I put any extra weight," April replied.  "There and in my
butt.  That's why I do toning exercises for the glutes and the thighs and
the calves."  She looked up and down Monica's body for a moment.  "Yours are
in pretty good shape too.  You must do your workout on the treadmill."



Monica blushed a little deeper under the gaze.  "Yes," she said.  "I try to
do three miles.  All my weight goes in the same places as yours."



She smiled, pulling a half shirt over her head and settling it on her torso.
Now her chest was covered but her tight lower belly and navel were still
exposed.  "We're just two peas in a pod, aren't we?"



"I guess so," Monica said, a hint of nervousness now entering her voice.
Had there been something in the way that she had said "two peas in a pod"?
It seemed that there had been, but again, maybe she was wrong.  She was on
unfamiliar ground here and had no idea how to proceed, or even if there was
anything to proceed to.



"Well?" April said, raising her eyebrows a bit.



"Well... uh... what?" she asked.



"Are you going to finish getting dressed or are you going to stand there in
your bra and panties all night?"



"Oh," she said with an embarrassed giggle.  "Sorry."



"You do look cute in them," April told her, her voice softening a bit.  "But
I really think that the staff would prefer you get dressed before you use
the machines."



Monica swallowed, feeling the color go rushing into her face again.  She had
told her that she looked cute!  What did that mean?  Did it mean that she
was attracted to her?  Or was it just innocent, friendly talk?  And if she
was attracted to her, what did that mean?  Could it mean that her dream was
approaching reality?  Or was just dealing with unconscious flirtation?  This
was all so complicated!



"Earth to Monica," April said, waving her hand in front of her face.  "Are
you still with me?"



With a start she realized that she had been just standing there and
blushing, her mouth agape, for an unknown length of time.  "Sorry," she
said, shaking her head a little.  "Just a little... uh... tired I guess."



"You don't have to work out tonight if you're too tired.  I won't be
offended if you want to call it a night."



"Not at all," she said, putting a smile on her face.  "I was just spacing
out a little.  Won't happen again."  With that she reached behind her and
undid the clasp on her bra.  She let it drop, revealing her own medium sized
breasts.  April seemed to take an appreciative glance at them as they were
bared, a glance that might have been imagination.  With trembling hands she
picked up her own sports bra and put it on.



A minute later their gym bags were stashed in April's locker and they were
out on the floor.  They worked out for nearly an hour, April utilizing the
weight machine to work her legs and then mounting the ski machine for
aerobic exercise.  Monica used a treadmill and ran a quick two miles and
then went and grabbed a stationary bike next to April's ski machine.  They
chatted about neutral things until they were both breathing too hard to
carry on a conversation.



As she pumped the pedals of the bicycle and drove her heart rate into the
mid-hundreds, Monica took every opportunity to cast surreptitious glances at
her companion.  Whether she was misreading the signals or not, whether there
were even any signals to misread or not, April still looked stunning in her
workout outfit.  She watched her boobs jiggling up and down with each clank
of the machine, watched the rivulets of sweat track down her face and her
neck and soak into the cotton of her shirt.  She watched her long, firm legs
pulse and contract, the skin glowing red from the exertion.  God how she
wanted her, how she longed to lick that sweat from her face, to stroke those
legs with her hands, to suck those breasts like a nursing baby!



Several times April glanced over at her and seemed to notice her looking.
She would smile in a friendly way each time, the smile that one friend gives
another out of camaraderie when communication is not possible.  She hoped
that the expression on her face during these times was not as hungry as it
felt to her.



Finally, after a cool down period, their workouts came to an end.  They
drank from their water bottles, rehydrating themselves, and then headed back
for the locker room.



"I'm glad I did this tonight," April said as they entered the empty room
once more.  "Now I don't feel guilty anymore."



"I feel double unguilty," Monica said, following behind her and admiring the
backs of her legs.  "I worked out twice today now."



April laughed, leading her friend to her locker and opening it back up.  She
pulled out Monica's gym bag and handed it to her and then pulled out her
own.  "Let's get showered up and get out of here," she said, pulling her
damp shirt over her head.  A second later the sports bra followed it.  A
moment after that, the spandex and the panties went as well, leaving her
completely naked.



Monica undressed slower, her eyes continually returning to appraise April's
body as she dropped her own clothing.  Her friend was so beautiful, so
desirable standing there like that!  Sweat glistened off of her skin, giving
her an erotic sheen.  Her breasts hung invitingly down, the nipples now
fully erect.  And she could now see her pubis.  Her dark brown pubic hair
had indeed been shaved into a narrow, vertical strip about an inch and a
half wide.  The vaginal area itself however, was completely clean-shaven, as
bare as the proverbial baby's butt.  Monica could plainly see her pussy lips
puffing out at her.  She could also smell her friend.  The wet, musky odor
of fresh perspiration.  She felt her own lips becoming wet again, knew that
they were probably swelling open in arousal.



"You're looking at me," April said softly as she noticed Monica's gaze.



Monica was instantly mortified.  She had been caught ogling another woman!
Not just looking at her, not even staring at her, but actually ogling her
like a teenage boy who finds himself in the women's locker room.  She felt
the sexual excitement that she had just been experiencing begin to swirl
away, shame and embarrassment swirling up to replace it.  "I'm sorry," she
stammered out.  "I was just uh..."



"It's okay," April told her with a smile, her hand coming out and giving a
light stroke across Monica's cheek.  "I don't mind."



With that she turned and walked towards the showers, a towel flung
carelessly over her shoulders, her naked buttocks swaying sexily.  She
opened one of the stalls and stepped inside, the door closing behind her.











Stories archived at www.storiesonline.net and www.ruthiesclub.com

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