One Night, in Bed With Camille by A.Penman

Camille stretched out on top of me, seemingly exhausted and, I hoped (my male ego notwithstanding) deeply satisfied.  I could feel her nipples poking into me just below my ribcage.  

I loved her tits…large but not too large…just right.  Don’t ask me what size cup.  And yes, I know that cup size is important.  But with work and all, I just had not had time to put a team of experts and trained technicians together in order to conduct any meaningful research.   

Not to boast or anything (not me), but we had been fucking, resting, fucking, resting again then fucking again for just over two hours.  Indeed, we were both exhausted.

Now, as she stretched out on top of me, after her last orgasm, I rubbed her back and noted that her breathing was a little hard.  I needed to be careful with Camille.  I gently moved my hand down to her left sided ribs and felt for any use of her accessory muscles.  There wasn’t any…good.  But just in case, a quick glance over at the night stand revealed that her rescue inhaler was within arm’s reach.  She sensed that I looked and that I was looking out for her, which prompted a snuggle and a sigh.

“Don’t worry.  I took my maintenance inhaler this morning…I’m good.”  She purred, then kissed my neck just to let me know that she loved the fact that I was concerned.  I, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to be a dick.

“I know, and thank goodness for long acting beta-agonists and steroids.  But, don’t forget C-girl, you happen to have one of the rarest forms of asthma.”  And yes, the fact that I called her “C-girl” meant that our relationship had progressed to the silly nickname stage.

She pushed up to her elbows and looked at me, quizzically.  Her spectacular breasts were now brushing across my chest and the slight change of position in her lower body gave my slowly softening cock a few more treasured seconds inside her juiced pussy.  I really liked that part of our sex, and my girl knew how to maximize it.  Camille was a doll.  In so many ways, I was lucky to have her.  

“What the hell are you talking about?”  she asked, sensing that there might be bullshit on the horizon.

“You know, that rare form of asthma that many women suffer with, the one that has doctors completely baffled.”

“What form is that?”

“The dreaded OEA…”

“OEA?”

“Orgasm Exacerbated Asthma!!!”  I said, using three exclamation points for dramatic effect.

“You’re a dork, Dick.”  She summarized, plopping back down to rest for a bit longer.

“Thank you very much.”   

“Did I say dork, Dick?  I meant to say you’re a dick, you dork!”

Every word that came out of her pretty mouth sent a shot of her warm breath across my neck, causing me to tingle in a nice way. 

“Either way, I’m flattered, Miss Camille.”

She shook her head and then let out one of those frustrated, girly sighs.

Richard and Camille…the two names sounded nice together.  Now hold on to your shorts, I’m not thinking marriage or anything like that.  But this is a great woman.  And if the topic ever did come up (which it hasn’t) I would seriously discuss it with her.  I like the rapport that we have, both in and out of bed.  

But this particular evening, for reasons I did not and still do not understand, Camille decided it was bomb dropping time.  Here’s how it went, to the best of my recollection:

“Richard?  Can I ask a rather intimate question?”  Camille had that tone in her voice that told me she was building up to something.

“Yeah babe, what is it?”

“Well, I was wondering,” she hesitated, “do you ever fantasize about me getting it on with another woman?”

I reached over to the nightstand, retrieved her rescue inhaler, took a deep hit then exhaled.  

“No, can’t say that I ever have.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Collins,”  she said, punching me gently in the ribs, “but the Camille cock-o-meter indicates that you are lying.”

Damn!  Just as it was about to vacate the premises, my nearly flaccid cock stiffened at the thought, giving me away.  Traitor!  If this was a poker game, that would have been my “tell.”

“So…” I paused with caution,  “…do you want to have sex with another woman?  Is that why this ‘intimate’ question came up?” 

Her head was still nestled in the crook of my shoulder, her breasts were still gently heaving into my abs when she asked, “Well, you know my girlfriend Natalie, right?”

My eyes widened.  Good thing she didn’t see.  Natalie was gorgeous, just like my sweet Camille.  I cleared my throat.  “Sure, what about her?”

“Well, she and I have been kind of gently dropping those playful ‘what-if-we’ suggestions for a while now.”

I could sense there was much more to this.  I decided to be patient.

“Aaaaaannnnnd?”

She pushed up again, in order to look me in the eyes.  I guess that she felt full eye contact was necessary for what she was about to lay on me.  My manhood was now almost fully erect and sloshing around deliciously inside of her.  Her pussy seemed to clamp down on it. 

“Last week we were at her house,”  she paused, “and we had consumed a little too much wine.  Just to be safe, I decided to wait for a bit longer before I drove home.  There was some sexy music playing and we just kind of snuggled on the couch.  We looked at each other, and…just out of nowhere, we started kissing and…”

“Wait, let me guess.” I interrupted.  “At first the kiss was soft and gentle…even tentative.  But soon it became passionate…almost incendiary.  Mouths clamped down hard on each other and chewed hungrily, and then tongues slithered out and became entwined in a saliva-coated wrestle.”

“Stop it!  I’m trying to be serious!”  she implored. 

“Sorry, I got carried away.  Then what happened?”

“Well, heavy breathing notwithstanding, we sort of came to our senses and stopped.  Neither of us said anything, we just kind of fidgeted nervously.  Then, I got up to leave.  She stood up too.  I told her I’d see myself out, but she insisted on walking with me.  Then, when we got to the door we hugged, really hard.  There could be no mistake that our intent was to crush our big tits arduously into each other.”

“A woman to woman challenge?”  I asked as my voice rasped. 

“Well, I’m not sure…perhaps…an intimate challenge.”

I thought about the scenario for a second.  “Actually, to me it sounds more like a mutual agreement was reached.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Two busty women, purposely mashing their boobs together…at the very least, a bare-breasted tit tussle seems inevitable.”

“Oh, that’s nuts!”

“Is it?  Come on C.  It sounds to me like it’s only a matter of time before your beautiful naked tits are rolling around with Natalie’s gorgeous knockers.” 

“You’re out of your mind, Richard!” She decried.

“Excuse me, miss Camille…but YOU are the one who initiated this discussion.  YOU are the one who said that the two of you have been dropping suggestive hints…YOU are the one who…”

“OK, I get your point.”  She acquiesced.  This was followed by a couple of long minutes of nervous silence.  Then…

“So, what do you think?”  She asked, knowing she was too far into it to hit the breaks.

I rolled my eyes, not really wanting to be put on the spot like this.  Like I said, Camille is just gorgeous and, like I mentioned, I felt very lucky to have her.  

However, at the risk of sounding like a male chauvinist, in situations like this one, my dear Camille did possess that one absolutely maddening quality that some women seem to possess.  Allow me to illustrate…

Last week, while getting dressed for an informal dinner with friends.

“Honey, can I get your opinion?”  she asked.

“Sure…about what?”

“This blouse…I’m thinking about wearing it tonight.”

And so the inescapable trap was set…the one I step into every goddamn time.

“And, what?”

“Well, I want your opinion of it.”

My opinion?  “Oh no, please, no!”  my mind cried out.

“Yes, give me your honest opinion.”

Open mouth, insert foot.  

“I don’t like it.”  I said, being completely honest. 

“You don’t like it!”  she gasped.  “What’s wrong with this blouse?”  Feelings were about to be hurt…but I had set my course, despite the unfavorable winds.

“That pattern…it’s too busy…can’t say much for the color either.”

I seriously didn’t like the blouse.  She had worn it a couple of times before and I damn near experienced vertigo.    

And of course, now the hurt-laced tears began to well up in her eyes.  And the silence would be deafening, and the touchy-feely would be withheld, not to mention the sex…all because I was asked for my “honest opinion” and I gave it.

And so, back to the present tense and in that dangerous spot once again, I determined right at that instant, not to fuck this delicate situation up.  In other words, I proceeded to immediately fuck things up.

I sighed deeply, because I knew that with a deep sigh came great wisdom.  At least that’s what is believed by lots of folks.  

But then I got distracted.  I started to wonder why a sigh would increase wisdom?  Could it be the momentary increase in one’s blood oxygen level?  I mean, think about it.  You’re taking in a really deep breath, and for a few seconds, the oxygen pressure in the lungs, all the way down to the air sacks (the alveoli) is greater than that of the surrounding blood flow in the capillaries.  This of course, makes oxygen diffusion across the alveolar-capillary membrane much easier (pressure follows the path of least resistance) thereby giving one a nice boost of O2 to the brain.  Makes perfect sense.  Am I right?

Anyway, under this manifest wisdom I told my sweet Camille what I thought of her situation…in a roundabout kind of way.  

“Hmm…”  I thought it over.  “Well, Camille, in this case I don’t think my opinion really matters.  Or should I say, my opinion won’t influence any outcome.”

“What do you mean by that?”  Her voice took on a slight tinge of anger.

“It means that if this is something that you really want to do, then you’re probably going to do it…whether or not I approve.”

“Richard, that’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is!” she said, a touch of hurt in her voice.  “You’re suggesting that your opinion doesn’t matter to me!”

“Does it?”

“Well, of course it does!”  she was now a pubic hair away from pissed off.  I, jackass that I am, decided to continue pushing sensitive buttons.

“Alright, Camille…here’s my opinion.”

“Let’s have it.”  She said, stiffly. 

I had an ulterior motive, because a thought had started to fester in my mind.  It was time for me to throw the curveball.

“I don’t like the idea of you and Natalie fucking.”

Shocked by my response, Camille sat straight up and straddled me.  My cock sank deeper into her.  But she wasn’t about to give me that satisfaction.  She lifted her cute ass up and my cock was suddenly meandering around like a confused senior citizen. 

“Why don’t you like the idea of Natalie and me fucking?  I thought that every straight guy had fantasies of his girlfriend having sex with another woman…another hot woman.”

The method behind this was simple.  I had a feeling she was holding out.  Now it was my turn to pretend to be angry.  

“Don’t use that fucking old trope on me, Camille!  Do I look like every straight guy to you?  Do I act like every straight guy to you?”

Now she was frustrated.  She then used every possible body language gesticulation to express her exasperation…the head shake, the shoulder shrug, and the deep sigh, all to assure me of the fact that I was seriously trying her patience.  I mean, after all, she did just offer me a potentially real glimpse into “every man’s fantasy.”  I should have been grateful, right?

Wait for it…it’s coming…

“I just don’t understand you, Richard…I mean it’s not like I’m cheating on you…it’s a woman!”

And so, by way of the improper use of a contraction, came an inadvertent admission. 

I sat up, wrapped my muscular arms around her waist, lifted her up and body-slammed her onto her back in the bed and came down on top of her, nose to nose.

“Ughhh!”  she gasped.

“My dear, sweet Camille,”  I spoke softly and directly, “that tight embrace at the door?…”

“What about it?”  she spoke in that way that always told me she was getting sexually aroused.

“…It didn’t exactly end there, did it?”

My sweet, totally busted Camille then reached down, grabbed my cock and slowly moved the head into her moist slit.  She removed her hand, then smiled at me, leaving the decision of when and how forcefully I wanted to thrust into her entirely up to me.

I’m a slow thruster.  Hard can wait until the fucking has reached a maddening pace.  But initially, I want each nerve ending in my cock to absorb every possible sensation of the cunt that is welcoming it into it’s juiced accommodations.  

When I was fully inside of her, Camille felt safe enough to whisper a revelation, “No, Richard, it didn’t stop with the tight hug at the door.  We ripped off our clothes, went to her bedroom and fucked like two lust crazed female savages.”

I kissed her, softly at first, then increasingly hard.  When the kiss broke off I looked at her with intenseness.

“What?”  She asked, feeling my cock inside her, moving with me. 

 “So, are you going to give me all the sweaty, body to body details or what?”

Only slightly surprised, Camille then asked, “I thought you didn’t approve of…”  

I cut her short, 

“Don’t be silly, Camille.  Every straight guy has fantasies about his girl getting it on with another woman!  I thought you knew that.”

This got me a second, much harder punch in the ribs.  But it was worth it.


One Night in Bed With Camille:  Cammie and Nittie

Camille stretched out on top of me, exhausted and, I hoped, deeply satisfied. I could feel her nipples poking into me just below my belly button.

I loved her tits! They were large, but not too large. Just right. And they matched up perfectly with mine, which led me to suspect that she was a fulsome D cup. I know, cup size is important, but things between us became so heated so quickly that there was no time to assemble a team of experts to perform a comparative analysis.

I have to confess something, however. I had always thought that my tits were a little bigger than Camille’s tits. I was convinced that mine were shapelier, fuller and more firm too. I was wrong. Not that I’m kvetching about it…well, maybe a little. How dare this bitch have a set of knockers as hot as my knockers? What a pleasant surprise!

I’m not boasting or anything (not me), but it was now a little bit after 10PM and we had been kissing, licking, sucking, 69ing, resting, fingering, roll-around wrestling, resting and 69ing for almost two hours. I lost count of how many times I had climaxed. Indeed, we were both exhausted.

My female ego notwithstanding, I’d say Cammie had erupted at least as often as me. And yes, the fact that I called her Cammie meant that our long friendship had evolved to the silly nickname stage. She was “Cammie” and I had become “Nittie.” Who knows how that evolved?

Now, as she stretched out on top of me after our last astonishing orgasm, I softly rubbed her back and noted that her breathing was a little hard. Perhaps the intensity of our sex had caused this. But given her long history of asthma, I couldn’t take any chances. I needed to be careful with her.

So, I gently moved my hand down her left side ribcage and felt for the use of any accessory muscles because that’s what Nurse Anna Chambers told me to do on her last visit to the Emergency Room.

And, oh my, that Nurse Chambers! With Cammie in Examination room one, still in her wheelchair and hooked up to one of those breathing masks with medicated mist, she leaned in to listen to Camille’s lungs with her stethoscope and for a second I thought her own rather large “lungs” might come spilling out of the top of her nurse’s uniform. DAMN! I might just have to “get sick.”

Anyway, there were no intercostal retractions noted. That was good. But just in case, I checked the nightstand to see if her rescue inhaler was within easy reach. Cammie sensed that I was looking out for her. She sighed, snuggled, then allayed my concern.

“It’s OK Nittie, I took my evening dose of my maintenance inhaler. I’m good.”

Then she purred and softly kissed my neck, just to let me know she loved the fact that I was worried about her. I, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to be a twat.

“I know. And thank goodness for those long acting medicines. But don’t forget, Camille, you suffer with Orgasm Exacerbated Asthma, one of the rarest forms.”

“Oh, stop it!” she giggled and gently punched my side.

“I’m not kidding. I have a friend who has a cousin who used to date a nurse. So I know what I’m talking about.”

“You’re a twit, you twat!”

“Why, thank you Miss Camille.”

“Did I say twit? I meant to say you’re a twat, you twit!”

I laughed, which got me a second punch in the ribs.

Camille grunted, shifted her position slightly, then snuggled her head into the crook of my neck, somehow making our bodies more intimate. This girl knew how to maximize. The afterglow felt so warm, I couldn’t help but to sigh.

And now, lying gently with her in post orgasm bliss, every breath that escaped her chest gently drifted across my neck, giving me shivers and, I swear, making my clitoris twitch.

Hmm…Natalie and Camille…the two names sounded nice together. Now, hold on to your brassier. I’m not talking about moving in together, buying the house with the picket fence and settling down. But I really like what she and I have together. And if the topic should ever come up, I would seriously discuss it with her. Since we first became friends, about two years ago, we had an amazing rapport. It was like we were meant to be best friends. I’ve never had this kind of rapport with another woman.

Earlier this evening, after we drank a little too much wine, we decided it would be best for her to wait a while before driving home. I put on some sexy music, the classic jazz recording titled “John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman” and we sat back on the couch in a nice, warm snuggle. We looked lovingly at each other, and I began to feel a mutual need, a seduction in our eyes. Her eyes closed, her head tilted slightly. I wasn’t sure if this was an invitation to a kiss, but I just had to take a chance) I couldn’t stop myself. I pressed my lips to hers and suddenly, my friend and I were locked in a much-more-than-friends kiss on the couch. The kiss was a little tentative at first. But in a few seconds we went from uncertain to emboldened as our mouths began to chew and my tongue wrestled with hers in our mixed saliva. Good lord, my nipples stiffened to rock hard!

But then we stopped abruptly and came to our senses, breaking off our lip lock. We then sat up, straightened our hair and our blouses and fidgeted nervously for a few non-verbal moments.

Camille then stood up and made a half-hearted attempt to leave. But when we embraced at the door, there could be no doubt that our intent was to mash our tits hard and purposefully into each other. That was the final straw. A woman to woman challenge? We both knew that would have to be bare breast to bare breast. And so, we waisted no time peeling off each other’s clothes. And the next thing we new, we were rolling around in a naked embrace on my bed…our needy bodies pressing and slamming into each other.

It would be disingenuous to say, however, that I never thought (or hoped) this would happen. For quite some time now, we had both been dropping those half-playful, half-serious “what-if-we…” suggestions. And whenever that happened, I could sense that we both were, at the very least, intrigued by the idea…maybe even a little turned on by it.

And now? What about now? I wondered. We just spent a little more than two hours engaged in flat out, no holds barred lesbian sex. When two besties take it all the way like this, what happens next?

Camille must have been reading my thoughts. Suddenly she shifted her position, moving up a few inches so that she could look me in the eyes. This realigned our bodies into a perfect mirror image. Our breasts squared off fully and I felt a volatile surge as our nipples poked and played. Then she started to tease me by rolling her tits into mine, mashing and kneading them softly, as if they were pizza dough. My tits stood their ground as we played a brief, sexy game of “who wants to make a pizza?” I thought to myself, “I’ll take mine with lots of cheese and extra nipples.” Who knew that going tit to tit with a woman could be so sexy? I was getting turned on again. Camille was too, but I could tell that she had something on her mind.

“Natalie, can I ask a question?”

“Sure babe, ask.”

“Well,” she was tentative, “was this inevitable?” she asked sincerely.

“That’s a complicated question, Camille.”

“I don’t understand. Why is that a complicated question?”

“Can you answer that with a straightforward yes or no, Cammie?”

Indeed, it was a difficult question made even more complex because I could now feel her smooth mound of Venus pressing down on mine. And when they touched so intimately, there was no way for either of us to remain still. She began to rub. I rubbed back. We both looked at each other lasciviously, knowing how close our pussies were to touching.

So, by way of explanation, this was my first lesbian experience…Camille’s too. I had always thought that one night of lesbian sex would be well worth experiencing. But I also thought it would be one that I could simply file in the “life experiences” folder and move on. Now, as her pussy lips began to lightly kiss mine, I knew that I was dead wrong. Maybe the dynamic is different when it’s your best friend. I can’t say for sure.

So far this evening, we had run the gamut of things two horny girls can do to and with each other to have fun…except for that one thing…that one thing that we both avoided doing because, somehow, we both understood its esoteric implications…that one woman to woman act that would, no doubt, bond us together with a profound closeness.

When my mind drifted back to the present tense, Camille was no longer on top of me. I sat up to see her leaning back on her out stretched arms with her legs spread in a V. I took in a sharp breath.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“You know exactly what this is, Natalie.”

Camille was right, of course. I knew and she knew.

I recalled one night, a couple months ago. We were on the internet, cruising for porn together, just for giggles. We went through the usual array of garbage, but then stopped when we came across a video of two women “scissoring.” This got our attention. This was the video that intrigued us the most.

And now, here we were…now here I was, staring into my best friend’s spread-legged enticement to come join her in nirvana.

My head began to swoon. “Gosh…Cammie…I…

“We have to do this. It will bond us, woman to woman.”

“Oh god, Camille…really?”

“Yes Natalie. Really.”

I started to breathe hard…actually, I started to struggle to get my breath. Camille reached over to the nightstand and handed me her rescue inhaler. Without a second thought, I grabbed it and took a deep hit.

“Wait for sixty seconds, then do another one.” Camille instructed.

“You’re the expert.”

I relaxed for a minute than took a second hit. Thank goodness for those fast-acting beta agonists! Man, that stuff really works!

With my breathing pretty much back to normal, I maneuvered myself into position, matched my legs with hers and formed an opposing V. The look on her face was one of pure carnal lust.

I waited with eyes closed because I knew what was next and I didn’t want any visual distractions to lessen the visceral sensation of two cunts coming together for the very first time. My sweet, sexy best friend then moved her pussy into mine. I could feel penetration of the sweetest kind. Just the sheerest folding and slotting and clenching of thick naked pussy lips. Our flowers were now sealed with each other.

Someone dropped a pebble in the pond…ripples of newfound desires expanded in concentric circles outward. Camille and I were joined in a profound coupling. Her clitoris swiftly located mine, begging for the friction of a girl cock tryst.

Then she stopped, smiled at me, leaving the decision of when and how forcefully I wanted to thrust and grind into her completely up to me.

I’m a slow thruster and easy grinder. Hard can wait until the fucking has reached a maddening pace. In this case, especially in this case, I wanted each nerve ending in my swollen pudenda to absorb every subtle nuance and sensation of the sweet cunt that was welcoming it into its juiced accommodations…to savor the tactile sensations of sopping flesh melding together…and to experience the slippery encounter of two engorged clitorises. I knew then that the rest of tonight’s agenda would consist of our cunt lips sucking and wrestling and our tumescent girl cocks battling it out deep inside the folds of flesh.

We pretty much stayed in this leg scissor through the night, grinding and rubbing our pussies softly…starting out slowly and rhythmically like Ravel’s Bolero, then moving to the pounding of the 1812 overture and then furiously finishing off like Flight of The Bumble Bee, waves of cum and newfound pleasure sweeping over us.

Then we would rest, still connected deeply. And then, the whole sequence would begin again, and again and again…

But in the morning came the angst.


The hot shower water came down upon our pressed together bodies as Camille and I kissed with deep desire. We took a good amount of time to fuck in soapy slickness, getting in a few more orgasms before coffee. Each romantic pussy to pussy rendezvous with this woman was even more astounding than the one before. It seemed the more we fucked, the better we got at girl fucking. It was wondrous! So much for filing this in the one time “life experiences” folder. The heat between us was so profound that we had to force ourselves to do what humans actually get into the shower to do.

Later, sitting at the kitchen table, over fresh ground Espresso Roast, Camille expressed her concerns.

“What am I going to tell Richard, Natalie?”

“I don’t understand. Why do you have to tell him?”

“Because, dear friend and lover, I’ve cheated on him!” Camille said, somehow convinced that she had transgressed.

“Cammie, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a woman.”

“What’s your point, woman?”

“My point is, I’m not a man. So, technically, this isn’t cheating.” I reassured her.

“It isn’t? But…”

“Then there’s that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The straight male fantasy…the lesbian fantasy…”

“What the hell are you bloviating about, Natalie?”

“All straight men secretly fantasize about their wives or girlfriends getting it on with another woman.”

“They do? Gosh, I don’t know about that.”

“I’ve heard that it’s the most common male masturbation fantasy.”

“I’m still not convinced. Richard has never even hinted at that.”

“Look, I have an idea…”

“Well, that sounds terrifying.” Her response was snarky.

“Do you want to hear this brilliance, or not?”

“Oh, by all means!”

“Here’s what you do. The next time the two of you are in bed fucking, gently broach the subject. Ask him if he ever fantasizes about you having sex with a woman.”

“I don’t think I could do that, Natalie.”

“Don’t be a wimp! Try it! I’ll bet you’ll be quite surprised by the response that you get from him.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Nittie!”

“Listen to me Cammie, I’m so sure of this, I’ll bet you one full night of non-stop, pussy to pussy grinding.”

“Hmmm…” Camille pondered. “could you be a bit more specific?”

“Simple…If I’m right about this, I get to fuck you all night long.”

“And if you’re wrong? Which I’m sure you are…”

“Also simple…then YOU get to fuck ME all night long.

Seeing the devilishness of my plan, Camille stroked her chin as she pondered it.

“Hmmm………I like it!”

The End

Thank you for reading! For more of A.Penman’s Stories: Click Here!

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