Turning Point

Chapter 5

Chapter 5The next day’s noon found me seated in a subway car returning from The Mall in Washington D.C. The ride passed in an expectant blur.

I had risen early that morning so I could shower, dress and get out of Angela’s hair before she popped in anticipation. She hugged me before I left and kissed me on the cheek. I resisted the impulse to turn my face slightly so that my lips met hers.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Em. I appreciate you not making me feel like some kinda s*x-crazed freak.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied and leaned in to kiss her back (don’t worry, I kept my head and pecked her chastely on the side of her face). Then, I got the hell out of there before I did or said something radically stupid.

The University of Maryland is a short subway ride from the nation’s capital. Washington is supposed to have some wonderful museums, none of which I had yet had the opportunity to visit. So, I had decided to while away my morning in one of the Smithsonians.

The Museum of Natural History is a wonderful, vast storehouse of fascinating knowledge. Which I had to discover for myself at a later date. Because that day, I was so preoccupied with thoughts of ‘my turn’ and musings on my roommate, that I was oblivious to the offerings at hand.

Slowly, reluctantly, the appointed hour arrived and I boarded the Metro back to College Park. I figured I probably wouldn’t get to the dorm before 12:45 or 1:00. That should have given Angela plenty of time to get herself together and clear out. It had occurred to me that given what we were both doing, there might be some awkwardness about ‘passing the baton’. But of course, I was surely projecting my own apprehension. Angela probably would not have cared in the least.

I may have made the entire walk from the subway to the dorm without my feet once touching the ground. The giant butterflies in my tummy were probably what held me aloft.

When I opened the door to our room, I was immediately struck by the smell. The scent of pure, raw carnality. There was no mistaking what had been going on in that room. In my revved up state, it was fuel to the fire.

My guess was that much like a chef cooking in the kitchen, Angela was so immersed in the aroma that she probably wasn’t aware of how strong it was and never thought to open a window to air the room.

Not that I minded. Not a bit.

Upon crossing the doorway to our room, a guest had to pass through a short passage that formed a sort of mini-vestibule. After that, the room opens up with Angela’s bed on the right and mine on the left, each with a small nightstand beside them. On the far wall was a window flanked by a pair of desks. Under the window sat a mini-fridge.

As I stepped past the vestibule wall, I was shocked to discover that Angela was still in her bed. Apparently sound asleep!

What the hell?!

I had purposely arrived later than the agreed upon time to make sure she didn’t feel rushed or constrained. What went wrong?

I touched her lightly on the shoulder and spoke her name. She stirred, but did not waken. I repeated the combination a little more forcibly. Angela’s eyes opened and found me with bewilderment, then dawning realization clearly expressed on her lovely features.

“f**k! I’m sorry, hon!” she exclaimed. “I was so blissed out, I just meant to close my eyes for a sec and savor the afterglow. The next thing I know, you were shaking me awake just now.”

As she spoke, she cast her sheets aside and sprang out of bed, which is when I realized that she was still completely naked!

This was hardly the first time I’d seen Angela nude. She’d never been bashful about that sort of thing. It’s just that the context changed my perception.

Now, seeing so much of her loveliness with s*x uppermost in my mind made me catch my breath. I was mesmerized by the swaying of her breasts as she moved - her swollen areolae jutting out in two delightful rounded peaks; the exquisitely smooth, slightly rounded belly beneath them; the play of the muscles under the silky skin of her legs. The fleeting glimpse I got of the cleft between her thighs gave me a pang of longing. Angela’s sexuality filled the room. Her magnetism held me in a trance.

Thank God Angela was too preoccupied with gathering, then donning her clothing, to notice me gawking at her like a love-struck simpleton.

When she’d gotten herself together, Angela came over to me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she said, “I’m really sorry for the goof, hon. I ended up f*****g myself silly, cumming a gazillion times and then didn’t realize how spent I was.”

“So,” she gave my arms an affectionate squeeze as she went on, “you take as long as you need. I won’t be back before five.”

With that, she was gone and I had the room to myself.

First, I gathered some body wash and a towel and ventured down the hall for a relaxing, hot shower.

When I returned to our room, I locked the door behind me and stretched across my bed, luxuriating in my nakedness.

Without even having touched myself yet, moisture was already gathering between my legs. I was determined not to rush this, so I began by simply closing my eyes and running my fingertips over the contours of my face. It was as if a blind man was reading my features with his hands; soothing and stimulating at the same time.

When, I wondered, would hands other than my own come to fathom this flesh? And whose hands would they be? I tried to imagine that the hands belonged to Sander, my boyfriend back home.

The gliding digits made their way to my throat, exploring the muscles and the soft skin. Over my collarbone they moved, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

I consciously thought of Sander doing this, but my mind’s eye had a will of its own... and brought me Angela instead.

And her recent nudity provided my imagination with a sumptuous visual feast. No matter how much I tried to concentrate on Sander, images of her kept intruding.

God, how I ached to touch her! To kiss her. To explore, taste and lavish attention upon every inch of her loveliness.

One of my hands cupped and caressed my breasts. The other made its way between my legs. But my heart convinced me these were Angela’s hands.

My fingers were not pulling my n*****s taut, it was Angela suckling them. The slippery seam of my labia was parted not by my fingers, but by her tongue. An exquisite bolt of carnal lightning shot through me.

My mind fanned the flames with searingly erotic visions of Angela. I gave myself up completely to the fantasy. Her lips blended with mine while we pressed our flesh together to become one writhing, panting form.

My swollen mound and my sopping inner lips spasmed at her touch. When she flicked her finger directly over the swollen, hypersensitive bud of my clit, I screamed her name.

Her lips spread in a sensuous, dreamy smile. Angela’s eyes flashed to meet mine while her fingers sank into the folds of my p***y. My hips thrust to meet her fingers.

The wet sounds of her pumping hand laced with my gasps and panting to fill the room with carnal music. My every nerve ending was afire with need and anticipation.

My n*****s were lovingly caressed, a fingertip slowly circling them, making them tighten even more.

My p***y wept in copious pulses. A sticky stream trickled down between my cheeks and puddled on the sheets. Angela’s fingers plunged faster and deeper into me, while her thumb moved up between the folds of my inner labia and under my hood.

My hips lifted from the bed, my cunt pushing high into the air. My head thrashed from side to side, my damp hair falling across my eyes. I gasped and panted. Moistening my dry lips with my tongue, I tasted salty perspiration.

Angela rubbed my c******s fiercely. Up and down, round and round and from side to side until I exploded in a shattering orgasm. My p***y walls contracted rhythmically around my fingers, flooding them with thick cream. I unleashed all the pent-up excitement of making love to another woman for the first time. And not just any woman. The unbelievable Angela.

As the passion slowly receded, I relaxed and lay back on the sheets, spent. My heart thumped beneath my breast and my skin was tingling. I squeezed my thighs together to exert pressure on my still-throbbing p***y.

Holding Angela in my arms, breast to breast and belly to belly, even if only imagined...

Would this, could this ever happen for real? Would I ever have the nerve to find out?

I looked at the clock on the nightstand beside my bed. Angela wouldn’t be back for more than an hour and a half.

And there were still things I wanted to do with her. To her. But, more slowly this time.

I smiled, closed my eyes, and let my fingers and imagination go to work again.