And thinking of her angry with me while I stood in front of her naked made me so hot that I could hardly catch my breath, and so wet that my arousal leaked through my pajama bottoms and all over my sheets.
The crush I developed on her made me do stupid things, and once, in a fit of clumsiness I spilled the contents of my backpack in front of her.
She’d bent down to help me pick them up, and at the same time we realized she’d picked up a paperback book called ‘Lesbian Licker’ that had been in my bag. She hadn’t said a word, quickly pushing it in my bag with the rest of my stuff.
But she’d made eye contact with me and in that moment, I felt both relief and fear.
The look in her eyes told me that she knew exactly what I wanted, what I fantasized about, and what I needed. It was like she knew all my secrets and found them amusing and interesting.
I wasn’t sure why I was so certain about her reaction, but I was.
And I was relieved.
But I was also afraid. The look in her eyes had been challenging. Almost as if she was daring me to admit things to myself that I was afraid to even think about.
I worried that she would think poorly of me for hiding from the very things I needed so badly.
But still, even if she never said anything, it was nice to think that someone else understood the strange things that aroused me.
Lesbian Licker was an erotic paperback novel, and while it did arouse me, it was poorly written, and the story wasn’t very interesting. But it did give me one idea.
One of the characters in the story loved having her nipples pinched.
I began to experiment with that and discovered that if I read erotica while having a clothespin pinched tight on one of my nipples, I could get so deliciously wet and horny that I would almost get dizzy.
These things, coupled with the fact that Mrs. Foster seemed to be able to sense them within me, made me both embarrassed to be around her and want to be around her even more.
In August, shortly after we both turned nineteen, Cindy moved out to California to live with her dad and attend college. I missed her intensely of course.
But I think I missed seeing Isabella even more. I was working at the movie theater and saving for school, and my social life had come to a halt since all my friends had left for college.
Cindy and I still texted, and video chatted all the time.
I’d lost my reason to spend time at her house though, and I hadn’t seen her mother in nearly two months.
But during that time, I’d found myself alone in bed late at night with drenched panties, just from imagining how her lips would feel against mine.
I resisted the urge to touch myself, as I had for so long, knowing that instead of an orgasm it would lead to physical frustration. So I lay there in the dark with a thudding heart, wondering about myself.
And wondering about Isabella Foster.
I wanted so badly to go over to Cindy’s house and see her, but always told myself I would look foolish just stopping by for no reason.
Which is why I was so happy to find Cindy’s phone charger behind the couch in our family room. When I picked it up, I realized I was holding a reason to go to her house. And a reason to talk to her mom.