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The best friends from college are the ones who stick around, staying in your life. My core group from college is still amazing whenever we get everyone in the same room. But from them, the two who stuck with me the most were Ishan and Liz. I looked up to both of them. Aditya was Indian-American, and Liz was white, like me. Both were incredibly talented. In the last days of college the two had begun a relationship, and that was part of why I had stayed in touch – when I saw one, I so often saw the other. Her and Aditya rarely would kiss in public, but she had a cute habit of reaching for his hand as the night got on and she grew more tipsy (or on a sober night, tired). It was always sweet, but it sometimes made me feel lonely or jealous, even more than if they had made out. It wasn’t that I wished they wouldn’t. It was that I wish I had someone I could share that with. One night when we were all out, she had grabbed my hand instead of his, as he was across the table and had way too much to drink, and there were many people. I knew it was her way of dealing with nervousness. And I felt good being able to relax her. But it only added to my jealousy. Liz was short, about 5 5. Her straight brown hair had been long in college, but she had cut it shorter as she began her career. The sensible cut barely reached her neck. She also had beautiful breasts. I’d made it a rule to not masturbate to my women friends, but in Liz’s case the thought had reached out unbidden several times that it would be wonderful to see them. But I kept my eyes from wandering when I was ever around her, and mostly never thought of her as a girlfriend I wish I had. She was just my funny, smart, close, friend, and the girlfriend of another one of my very good friends. Late in the summer we all got together on a Saturday for a house party at my friend Rob’s. There were about 20 people there, mostly from college, some the newly-acquired SOs and friends of the core group. There wasn’t much dancing or music, but there was a liberal amount of drinking and card-playing and good times. We’re all sort of nerds, so not a ton of dancing, but some definite enthusiasm whenever a great song came on. It was a great way to spend a summer night. The hours passed and I saw Liz and Aditya on the couch, Liz reaching to hold his hand, and I smirked and felt great care for both of them. It’s so nice when your friends act in ways you can recognize. Aditya got up to go to the bathroom and I came over and said hi. When Liz greeted me as I sat down beside her, and we talked, I felt her hand reach for mine. Embarrassingly, I had thought about it. I knew I wanted her hand in mine. Aditya came back about 10 minutes later and laughed – we were all comfortable – "just keeping your seat warm," I said, and he slid in to rejoin her. I stayed and talked with them for a bit, standing, and then rejoined the party. Late in the night, Rob and the five or so people left proposed playing Kings. We had a great time, but we also got – what’s the technical term? – completely fucking hammered. Rob made it clear that we could all sleep over, and the news was a relief to all of us. After the commotion of the game I found a couch and sat down. Liz was wearing a modest top, with only a hint of cleavage, and a pair of comfortable pants. She smiled and sat next to me on the couch, and in pure relaxation I slid my arm up the couch behind her. "Adi passed out," she said, using her nickname for him. We smiled and talked for a moment. No one else was around, and the lights in the room were dim. As we talked we sat close, and I made no effort to avoid her touch. She cuddled a little closer to me, and for a little while we held hands over our laps. I let my fingers rest on her leg, and when she laughed her leg raised up into my touch. We had been sitting for about ten minutes when, smiling and talking with my beautiful friend, our hands now more closely in her lap, I brushed my fingers over the bottom of her belly, along the top of her pants. It was unmistakably intimate. I knew then that I’d made a mistake, that my loneliness and the alcohol had overcome my discipline. There was no mistaking how my hand had moved. She wasn’t dumb. The moment lingered, a second or two at most but an eternity in my head. And then her hand clasped mine tighter. Her eyes darted to mine for an instant and then staring ahead. I slid my fingers lower. I watched her chest move. The curve of her breast was so unmistakable under her shirt and her bra, the shape of her and the indent pointing up in the fabric from her excitement. And then I reached her and touched her. All the while waiting for the release of her hand, the hard slap, the word in my ear. Instead I heard only her breaths and felt her fingers trace on mine, as they slid to hold my wrist as my fingers entered her. The sound of her and my finger into her was light, and my movements muffled under the grip of her pants. Her hand gripped mine as tightly as she could, and my face leaned closer to her, looking at her and at my hand, her eyes closed and her lips drawn slightly open, soft breaths, her other hand, on her far side, sliding up and down her right leg. I moved one finger to touch her gently above where I was moving in and out. I said nothing and she said nothing, her biting her lip, and her soft sounds and my breathing were our whispers. I grew hard touching her, and felt her begin to shake. She moved her hand from her leg to grip the couch and arched her back, throwing her chest out, as her legs drew inward around my fingers. She turned and buried a loud gasp on my shoulder. As she shook on my fingers, and I slipped them out gently, I brought her face toward my chest, kissing the top of her head. She sat there shaking, breathing heavy. And as I cradled her I felt the unmistakable touch of her hands on the front of my jeans, my belt unbuckling, still running my hands over her hair and back as I heard her breathing slow, and I felt her fingers undo my button and unzip my jeans. Within an instant she had her hands under my underwear on my bare skin, and then I felt a small chill as she took me into the open air and wrapped her fingers around me. She shifted downward with her body, and I could not see her eyes, but I felt her lips circle the head of my cock and draw it into her mouth. Her right hand kept gripping me. She dipped a few times on me, my breath drawing in, and then she shifted, her left arm now back behind me on the bench, her right holding me, lowering herself so that I could see her face. Her eyes were closed as she moved her lips down on me, her hands moving carefully on me. I held onto her back and stifled the urge to cry out. I cradled her face with my left hand, brushing her hair back, my right on her waist, as I listened to the sounds of her on me, moaning softly. She shifted closer on me and her breasts grazed my legs. I still hadn’t touched them, and it flew through my head that even seeing them would have been my biggest fantasy prior to that point. As she sucked she built into a slow rhythm, and she started to moan softly. She kept her eyes down, my hand on her running through her hair. She never took me all the way, but she never moved her lips off of me, and I felt her lips open to breathe ever so often before curling back around me. I kept looking to the door. I didn’t want to say anything to spoil it, but I knew I should warn her. "Close," I whispered, as softly karup babes as I could, and for the first time her eyes looked up, locking on mine, and as I brushed her hair back behind her ear she gazed at me, my cock passing between her lips, the head always entirely in her mouth, an expression I could not recognize. And then she grinned wide around me and I saw her jerk her mouth slightly back as it happened, my body shaking, unable to even make a sound but breathing so deeply, her eyes never leaving mine, dipping gently again down the head when it was over, drawing up the drops into her mouth. She popped her mouth off and with her eyes on me gave the head a soft, long kiss, wife swap sex tape and then slowly sat up, my shaft wet from her mouth but otherwise spotless, as if she had never been there. I rubbed her back and she karups looked down at the floor and then back to me. Neither of us smiled, but i reached out and squeezed her hand, and she did back. And then she straightened her pants and stood up. She looked at me, and I stood as if to embrace her, and she put a finger to her lips and walked through the door to the next room. I don’t know what will happen next. But I had to laugh at the improbability of what had happened, and what hadn’t. I still haven’t seen those perfect tits. But I couldn’t help but sm