He moved in about three months ago. It went pretty smoothly, at first. A little adjusting was needed, but we were so used to people in the house all the time that it didn't take that much. Besides, it was my husband's best friend, so we knew we could all get along.

The first sign of trouble was when his girlfriend started hanging around. I could barely be in the same room with her. I tried talking to Steve about it, but he just didn't understand. I decided it was best just to avoid the issue and try not to be around when she was there.

Then one day, I was taking a bath. I love baths. I love how my skin tingles from the intensity of the heat. When I get out, the cold air hits me and I want to stretch until all my joints pop. It just feels so damn good. Right when I was ready to get out and start stretching she walked in on me. No knock on the door or anything, she just came right in. We stared at each other for a minute, neither of us knowing what to say or do. You could feel the tension rise as we just stared at one another incapable of movement or speech for fear of how the other might react. I wasn't sure if she felt the same way about me, but I had my suspisions.

"I - I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in here," She stammered and was about to leave.

"It's O.K., I was just getting out, anyway," I replied. I stood up and grabbed my towel. I stretched, twisting and extending every muscle I could. The water was slowly dripping off of my body. I wrung out my hair and stepped out of the tub. I could feel my nipples getting hard from the cold air.

I swear I caught her looking at me. Just as I turned toward her, she looked away, but her cheeks were flushed. Neither one of us said a word as I finsihed towelling off; trying to pretend that the other wasn't there; trying to ignore the fact that I was completely naked and we were less than 6 inches away from each other, both struggling to see into the same mirror at the same time.

I was so tense, which is surprising after having just soaked in a deliciously hot tub. But I really could not stand being in the same room with her, that close to her. I could smell her. I could feel her hair against my arm. I could feel how tense she was. Her motions seemed jerky, unnatural.

I bumped into her as I was reaching into the cabinet and could tell she was even more upset. I couldn't take it anymore. She turned toward me like she was going to say something and I, well, I kissed her. The look on her face told me she couldn't believe what I just did. Hell, I couldn't believe what I just did. She didn't say anything, just stood there with her eyes as wide open as her mouth.

I realized that I had wound myself up, waiting for a slap, a scream, something. She stood there forever. I know it was forever because nothing in my life had ever lasted as long as the amount of time that she just stared at me. She didn't hit me. She didn't do anything. I figured, "What the fuck," and I kissed her again, longer, deeper. Finally she moved. She wrapped her hands up in my hair and pulled me even closer.

The source of my tension for the past three months, all the anxiety, the frustration was under my finger tips, finally. Without saying a word, I led her into the bedroom and shut the door.

I laid her down on my bed, my bed that smelled of me and my husband. The bed that we have slept in and made love in for the past three years. The bed that still had the stains from last night's fun. I laid her down on that bed and cherished the picture. I admired the way her hair spread out on the pillow. I adored the way she looked up at me with that little pout on her face. Pouting because I wasn't touching her. I was just drinking her in. Every nuance of that moment was going to be burned into my memory for the rest of my life. This was something that I never wanted to let fade.

I took her shirt off and gently rolled her over onto her stomach. I love backs. I love shoulders. Hers were perfect, of course. So incredibly soft. And the way they curve. That's what I adore so much about women. Unless you've spent most of your life up against the rough, day old stubble of men most of your life, you just wouldn't understand how incredible it is to fondle the softness of a woman.

I touched her shoulders lightly. Just touched her with my fingertips revelling in the tenderness of her moans, the soft shifting of her thighs as she impatiently waited for more. I moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck. Oh, necks get me at the center of my being. They are so exquisite. I love feeling the muscles, and the veins so close to the surface. I just sat there feeling her heart thump up against my lips. Feeling it get faster, feeling mine speed up to stay in synch.

I straddled her and laid down on her back, putting my weight on top of her. What a lovely noise she made. Half sigh, half moan. I felt her hips lift up from the bed, rubbing against me. She still had her jeans on and the contrast of the rough fabric against my bare skin made me gasp. I laid there feeling her skin against mine. I never wanted to move again. I wanted all other things in the world to cease and let there be just me and her on my bed.

I stroked her back down to the waist of her jeans with my finger nails, watching her flesh respond with tiny red lines that kept track of where I had been. I kept stroking, scratching, watching the lines get darker and thicker as I added pressure with each pass. I listened to her moans get louder and longer as her hips moved up and to the sides, her thighs rubbing against eachother.

I rolled her back over and kissed her. It was a kiss that lasted a lifetime. A kiss that was filled with more passion and connection than any two people ought to know. It was a kiss that when ended, leaves an afterglow akin to that of the wildest orgasm one has ever felt. I kissed her, losing myself in her lips and toungue and oh, so incredibly soft cheeks.

I reached down and touched one nipple with my fingertips. Oh, she was ready. Her nipples were hard the instant before I touched them, hard with anticipation, hard with desire. They begged me for attention. I wanted to feel them with my tongue. I leaned down and lightly, barely, licked one nipple. It shuddered at the touch of my breath. It glistened with my saliva. I took it into my mouth and caressed it with my tongue. I suckled it until she begged me to pay attention to the other one. I did. I fondled and suckled and savored the hardness of it.

I commanded myself to pull away from her breasts and undid her jeans. Undoing the zipper and opening them baring her stomach and panties. Hm, I love the silkiness of women's panties. I ran my hand over them, kissing her belly, feeling her push up against my hand trying to guide it to where she so desperately needed to be touched. I wasn't ready, yet. There was so much more to do to her. So much more.

I eased her jeans down her off her hips, down her thighs, off her feet. I watched her get more active, more hopeful, her eyes lighting up like candles in the dimness of the room. I rubbed her naked legs, feeling the smoothness, the silkenness, the down that exists only on the upper thigh. I ran my tongue up her leg, to the back of her knee, to the area that I love more than any other on a woman; right where the thigh joins the torso. I love licking that area, starting at the top and letting it guide me down, running along the edge of her panties, feeling their silk against my cheek.

I could smell her. God! Could I smell her. I breathed, deeply, again and again. Drinking her in like I could consume all of her.

I was getting dizzy from all of this. All the passion that I hed kept bottled up inside, positive that it would never get release, now pouring out of me onto her like a shower of lips hungry for caresses, starving for flesh. I wanted every bit of her flesh. I wanted to own her, to posses her. I wanted her to need me to live. I wanted to taste her.

I took her panties off and watched as she spread her legs in expectation. I crawled up between them and slid my hands under her ass, digging my finger tips into her flesh. I moved my face closer to her and heard her moan as my breath flitted across her lips. The gentlest summer breeze whispering love. I could see how wet she was. I could see how her lips shone with moisture. The smell was all-consuming, filling me up to the point of bliss. This was my Utopia, my Eden, my purest moment of existence. I was entering a realm of ecstacy so profound that I was losing connection with all that was not us.

I teased her lips, licking outside of them, watching her quiver, hearing her sigh, feeling her hips rise up to meet me trying to force me deeper. I buried my face in her and lost myself to her passion, feeding on it, growing with it, using it back on her. I licked, I drank, I took as much of her into me as I could, feeling as if my being desperately need her to sustain itself, to live, to love.

I felt her fingers in my hair, her breath - rapid, shallow, her thighs squeezing me, pulling me into her, drawing me deeper into passion than I have ever ventured. I knew she was coming before I felt or heard it. I just knew. Somewhere deep inside me, something told me she was there. Then I heard her. I heard the most delightful, sweet melody emenating from her entire body, so it seemed.

Spent, I climbed up next to her, buried my head in her hair, smelling the scent that I have known for so long. I lay there looking at her face, that simple smile and look of complete satisfaction and scream inside my head with delight, "I did this to her!"

We wrapped up in the feeling of each other's flesh up against our own and that is how they found us the next morning.