"I just love your boobs!" Emma exclaimed, each of her hands cupping one of my naked breasts, shaking them around a bit, slapping them against each other. "I love how they stand up like this, even when you are lying on your back", she continued.
I did not know it yet, but looking back at it, that may have been the very peak of a summer I will remember for the rest of my life. Her, slapping my boobs against each other while gently rubbing my nipples and giving me the loveliest shivers through my whole body. Her beautiful face just moments from descending on one of them, asking me, "What do you prefer, actually, when I rub your boobs or when I lick them?"
The question caused me to reflect, to think back on our weeks and what we were actually doing. As she descended on my nipple, her freed up hand slowly finding its way to between my legs, I started asking myself. What are we doing? what is this?
Why are we having sex, and what does it mean?
A few weeks earlier, neither of us would have expected ever being in that situation, least of all with each other.
Me and Emma were both students at Lund University, one of Sweden's oldest and best rated universities. We were kind of in the same social circle, but we'd never really connected. I was your typical top student, went to med school and lived in an apartment my grandparents had bought for me. Emma was at the social science faculty and a few years younger - her older sister Louise was one of my friends in med school, and they shared a small one-roomer. I'd met her a few times but let's put it this way: her studies seemed to permit a lot of partying, drinking and drugs, while my studies required too much effort, or maybe my standards were too high, to allow for that lifestyle.
That evening, my whole summer plan had collapsed. Some context for any international readers: In Sweden, all university students get a generous allowance from the government. Half of it is an interest-free loan, while the other half is a gift. We all, no matter our backgrounds, have this shared basic income during the semsester. But during the three months of summer recess, we get nothing, and are expected to earn our living however we can. Typically, by getting a summer job, filling in vacancies when the real adults have their vacation. Most of us have our safe bets each year, as did I: I used to wait tables at a seaside restaurant.
So why did my summer collapse? It was first week of June, I had just had my final exam for the semester, when I got the news: The restaurant where I was meant to work the next three months had had a fire, it was completely demolished. In an instant, I had nothing to do. What's worse, as a favor, I had managed to fix a job for Emma at the same restaurant - hopeless as she was she had had no job lined up.
I wanted to break the news in person, so I went over to their place. Louise was more upset than Emma, but I felt bad for messing up the plan I had set up. As if it was my fault - I don't know why I'd think that, but I did at the time. Together, we devised a plan: I had a quite good apartment in the city centre. I would sub-let it on AirBnb, Emma would help with the practicalities of it, and for the money we earned, we would both share their place. Louise was going to a hotel in Norway, so I could use her bed.
We lucked out, there was some visiting researcher who wanted to rent my place for the whole summer, so we had almost nothing to do. The money was not comparable to two full-time salaries, but it could cover our rent and food expenses, so we'd survive. We just had three months, living in close proximity with no money left over to do anything or travel anywhere.
The first week was agonizing for me. I was used to stress, having way too little time and way too much to do. Suddenly, there was nothing. Much like Louise, most of my friends left town to work somewhere else, in the country or abroad. Emma had the same situation, but she was fine with it. I would do a long jogging round, often 20-30 km, and come home to find her exactly where I left her, usually bingeing some series on Netflix.
So I'd have a shower and then watch it with her, what else was there to do?
After the first week, we gradually eased into each other's lifestyles. I would find myself enjoying the idle afternoons and evenings more than I thought. She occasionally got up and did something. Even joined me for a walk.
Our first incident happened when I went for one of my jogs. I usually spent a few hours running 20-30 kilometers, but I guess her laziness had rubbed off on me, because after the first five, I started to feel like I'd much rather just return back home. I pictured her, with her petite body in some oversized leisurewear, lying in her bed watching Netflix and I just felt like joining her.
By then, she must have started to expect that I'd be away for a few hours when I left. Because when I entered the apartment, she was in bed watching something - but she was NOT wearing her oversized leisurewear, nor anything else, and I don't think what she was watching was available on Netflix.
At that time in my life, and always before then, masturbation like everything else had been something to squeeze into my already crammed schedule. Time efficiency and optimization was key. I had never seen or imagined anyone slowly and mindfully enjoying their body the way Emma was doing when I caught her. It didn't seem like she was even trying to cum, she was just stroking her pussy gently with one hand, the other caressing her body - it was as if she was making love to herself. She didn't notice me, caught in the moment. In hindsight, maybe I did admire her a bit, I don't know, I had a lot of emotions and the most immediate one was embarrassment.
I opened and re-closed the front door again, harder so she'd hear me. Thankfully, our bathroom was right next to the front door, so I could escape in there and pretend I did not see her. I took an extra long shower, to give her time to get dressed and clean up or whatever. She did not, however. When I came out from the shower, she was still naked, still rubbing herself and the TV still had porn on it. I looked at her, with a look indicating that I felt like I was owed an explanation. She looked at me, still rubbing her pussy. I felt embarrassed but also a bit humiliated. And sure, I can admit given how it all played out, that I was also a bit turned on.
"At first, when you came in, I felt like I had to stop" she told me, still rubbing her pussy and even cupping one of her petite boobs. "But then I thought: this is actually MY home, this is what I do when you go for your run, it's my way of relaxing and just because you apparently cancelled your plan to run, doesn't mean that I have to cancel my plan." At no point did her hand stop moving between her legs, even if it never moved particularly fast. I was amazed. I had never expected that line of defense. I couldn't even speak, I had assumed that I didn't have to say anything, that normal social conventions would make me win this by default. Now, her masturbating, my inability to form a coherent sentence, and the porn playing on the TV next to me, which I noticed was a lesbian porn, all started to frustrate me. To top it off, I was almost naked myself, having just come out of the shower and just wrapped a towel around me.
"Are .. are .. I mean... what... " I started. My mind was racing. I had felt like the intruder, the one at fault. Then, when I had discreetly given her time to cover up and she did not, I had felt like I had the moral high ground. Now she was casting me as the intruder again. The words came out: "Are you comfortable with this, are you OK?" I had chickened out, accepting my role as the one to blame. She answered: "I mean, I'd probably have preferred it if you weren't here, but I think if we are to live together it's probably better if we can just be comfortable together." I nodded. My towel was slipping down over my boobs, as she continued: "I've enjoyed our routine, but I can relate to not wanting to run a marathon every single day. It seems a bit excessive" In my mind, I could only think of that a marathon is 42 km which I had so far not run on any day. But I didn't correct her, I let her continue. "I know that you are not into that, but I think that a long, slow, tantric masturbation session could be good for you, to relax. At least, it works for me and I don't want to give that up." I nodded again. "Ok, that's fair" I said, not actually thinking that it was fair. I sat down on my bed, or Louise's bed which I was using. I immediately texted Louise about the whole encounter, trying to ignore the lesbians on the TV and Emma who was now jointing them in her panting and clearly getting into it.
'So I just caught your sister masturbating and she just kept going' 'What?' 'Yeah, she just said that it is important for her to have tantric masturbation sessions and that I'd have to get used to it if I was to live with her this summer' 'Oh my god, I can't believe that she said that, I'm sorry' 'I mean, is this normal for her, do you know of this?' ...
Louise stopped answering. My towel had unwrapped and was lying under me in my bed. Emma was in her own world, eyes closed, moaning loudly and caressing her body all over. She really did not care about my presence at all. I watched the TV, the lesbians were close to climax, both licking each other in a 69. There was no denying that it was hot. My hand reached for my wet pussy. But of course, I knew of no other way of masturbating than my time efficient way. I came in like a minute, trying to contain my moans. The porn was also finished, but Emma just kept going. I was amazed. She had been in complete extract for a good half hour since I came back. And she kept going even longer. I started watching her, she was rolling around in bed, moaning freely, one hand always on her pussy but the other caressing almost every part of her. She seemed so relaxed, so blissful.
She kept going for another hour and a half, two hours in total since I got home. By then, I had gotten dressed, done some chores and alternating between doing my best to ignore her and then overtly watching her when I realized I could not ignore her, then back to ignore.
After this, the genie was out of the bottle, and Emma started masturbating quite freely. She told me, that she usually masturbated before going to sleep, but hat contained herself to make me feel comfortable at home. I realized that Louise must have concealed this part of her sister's life and their routine while sharing a studio apartment.
The first days, I felt obliged to run my full route, to give her space and to spare myself the embarrassment. But when she started masturbating in the evenings, and sometimes just stay naked the whole day, I realized that she really did not care at all about me being there. And for me, I was always thinking about it, while running my route my mind was only focused on the scenes happening in our apartment, the beautiful petite woman moaning in extacy while making love to herself. I wanted to see it. So I stopped running, or came back early. I'd cum a few times watching her, and feel relaxed.
It took me some time to ask her for tips. I was stuck in my routine, and even when I tried, I felt like it was impossible to not cum within minutes. "It's not about sex" she told me. "If it was about sex, I would have felt embarrassed. But it is about relaxation, it is about feeling and being in your body. That is the first lesson: stay in the moment. Orgasm is your enemy, not your goal. Because it ends the pleasure."
Emma suggested that we'd masturbate together. "Within tantra, connecting with someone and feeling good is not at all about sexuality, romance, love or any of the feelings you have been brainwashed to think. It is about bodily sensations, being in the moment and then losing track of the moment, transcending the moment to just feel good." It made sense to me, in some way. And we had already kind of done it.
We sat in front of each other, with lots of pillows to feel comfortable. "For me" Emma said, "hearing a woman enjoying herself is a good way to start the moment", and with that, she turned on some lesbian porn. "You don't have to watch, just listen and imagine that it is your moans, your pleasure. Keep your eyes focused on mine, and do what I do." I did, I looked her in the eyes and mirrored her movements, as she started caressing her thighs, her calves, her feet, then back up. Her pelvis, her arms, her neck, her cheeks and forehead. Then she started moving for the pussy. I felt mine. It was wet. I watched carefully to mirror her exact movements. She did not rub intensely, as I usually did. She was stroking her labia, feeling every part of it. It felt good, I felt each part of my body in detail. Then she picked up the pace, and I did too. I started to lose myself in the moment, and I felt my pace increase, my hand on my breast. She saw it to. "No no, you are falling back in your old routine" she told me. She was right, but I was too turned on.
She lurched at me, pushing my hands over my head and her naked body against mine. "This is not the way, you need a real detox" she told me. Before I knew what happened, she had grabbed a pair of handcuffs from somewhere around her bed and attached my hands to the bedpost. "I need to detox you by force" she said, "because you just can't help yourself, am I right?" I knew that she was right, so I told her. She nodded. "I will have to help you relax" she said. "Just relinquish your control and let me massage you".
It was incredible. Her "massage" was to a large degree like an actual massage, but it did focus a lot on the breasts and pussy. Not enough to make me cum, she was clear on that: orgasm is the enemy. But enough to make me feel good. She kept me locked up all day that day. She fed me from there, she had me peeing in a jar, and most of the time she caressed me in ways I had never been caressed before. Slowly, carefully, delicately. I was forced to feel how every part of my body felt. Not until the evening did she untie me, and then only so I could go to the bathroom. I slept tied up that night, and in the morning, she continued her massage.
_____________-
She had said that the detox would last a week, but it lasted longer. My jogs were gone, instead she tied me up and massaged me for hours on end. She stopped feeding me and let me use the toilet. Indeed, she had me do most of the housework during the hours that I wasn't tied up, while she'd masturbate herself. "Because I don't have time, I devote all of my time to you and your detox" she explained.
And so it was, on the day it all climaxed. She was slapping my breasts against each other, asking me what felt best, rubbing them or licking them. Then she licked them and massaged my pussy.
I was five weeks into my detox and six weeks into the 12 week summer hiatus. And I realized the truth, obvious to all but not to me. I had told myself that it was a massage, that it was relaxation. But I realized that it was sex. And that I wanted it. I wondered if I actually loved Emma. Thoughts were being thought, which could not be unthought. She started licking my pussy and I begged her to come 69 me so I could lick her too. This was a large step. The whole premise of our "detox" was that she was massaging and helping me, so I could start masturbating in a more enjoyable way. I had never touched her sexually, and she had been clear that that was ok. Still, she was licking my pussy. I was used to having her licking my pussy. So why couldn't I return the favor?
She must have thought the same, because she did rotate her body over mine, giving me access to the first pussy I ever licked, and the first apart from my own that I ever touched. This was the first time she made me cum, and the first time I made her cum. Afterwards, she cuddled up next to me, my hands still tied to the bed. We did not say anything. From that moment, we stopped saying anything, because nothing made sense.
She kept tying me up, and I kept doing the housework when not tied up, But we started sleeping in the same bed, and even tied up, she would let me lick her pussy and boobs. Physically, I felt almost as if we merged into one unit of sexual bliss. But mentally, a gap was forming, a gap of silence over what we were actually doing. And silence about what would happen in the decreasing number of weeks until my AirBNB ended, Louise came back, uni would start again and life would get back to normal. I loved her, I felt strongly that I loved her, but I also felt like she did not love me. Her words from before echoed in my brain: "it's not about romance, it's not about love". My love for her, was it just my detox not working? I doubted myself, and so I said nothing. Probably, she did too.
I liked beting tied up, and she like tying me up. I liked the humiliation of serving her when not tied up, and I think she did too. So we kept doing it. I realized that I liked peeing myself while tied up. I pretended that it was an accident, but I think she realized that it wasn't. When it happened, she'd stand over me, tell me I was a bad girl for peeing my bed, then pee all over my body, and then have me change the sheets and clean up. She would pee on me, have me pee on myself and then give me a body to body massage, spreading our pee all over our bodies.
___________-
With Emma, I lived out all my fantasies, my lesbianism. But it became clear that it would all end when the summer ended. For the rest of my life, I wondered: Did she really not want to keep going, or did she just think that I didn't want to keep going?
The day came, and I cried all day. Louise came back, I moved back to my apartment. No one spoke of this again. Me and Louise drifted apart over the course of that semester. I moved on.
And for the rest of my life, i've known how to make love to myself, properly. I've never dared to show any of my other fetishes to any guy that i've dated, and indeed, I've only dated guys. I knew that I wanted to start a family, and I now have the perfect life, two kids, a house, I work as a doctor at a local hospital. I know that I would never give up my kids for anything in the world. My memories and my fantasies are mine and mine alone, and I carry them close to my heart, forever.