The Clothing Exchange

Can a small incident make a big change in your life? Perhaps. I think that's just what happened to me the other day. I've always thought of myself as straight, not even bisexually curious. I'm a woman in my mid-30s, single, and never got hot looking at other women.

I know I'm not terribly pretty, but I'm decent looking, I think. I'm also a bit plump, but it doesn't bother me. Perhaps that's why I'm a good friend with Rachel, my sister-in-law. She's also a bit of a plain-Jane, in her mid-thirties and, since her marriage to my brother five years ago, has grown a bit round in the waist and bottom, like me.

Two weeks ago, she called and said she was about to get rid of some clothes she could no longer fit into. She was sure I still had the figure to fit into the more slender garments, and even though I disagreed, I told her I'd stop by and see what she had.

That Saturday afternoon when I visited my brother was gone, and so Rachel and I spent a long time chatting in the kitchen, drinking coffee, eating a few cookies and joking about whether we would need a whole new wardrobe before the day was done. Finally, we went up to Rachel's second bedroom, where she had a load of clothes spread across the bed.

Rachel gestured towards the pile and said to try on anything that interested me. In the closet were more clothes that she still had to see if they fit. Soon, we were both in various states of undress. Clothes went on and clothes came off. All the time, we chatted and commented on what seemed to look good on me and whether something still fit Rachel's pleasantly plump body.

At one point, Rachel tossed a nice-looking bathing suit my way. I decided to try it on and for the first time since we started, I stripped completely naked. I didn't think anything of it and neither did Rachel at first, but then I noticed she glanced down below my waist and said, "Oh."

I looked at her quizzically.

"You're hairless," she said after a brief hesitation.

Suddenly I felt myself blushing and stammering slightly as I tried to casually explain that I had shaved my pubic hair as a lark a while ago, but liked it that way now. I didn't mention that I also like to rub scented oil on my smooth mons as a prelude to masturbation, one of my secret pleasures of a single woman.

"I haven't seen anyone hairless since I was a girl," Rachel added as she continued glancing at me. "Would you mind if I touched it. I'm curious how it feels."

The question took me totally by surprise. In the micro-second it took me to answer, I found myself unexpectedly bewildered by the fact my first thought wasn't "no." Instead, I found myself worried that a negative response would somehow embarrass Rachel for being so inquisitive. And so I shrugged my shoulders and murmured, "Okay."

Rachel reached down and gently stroked her fingers lightly across the top of my pubic mound. She smiled and said, "It's so smooth. I wouldn't have thought it would feel like that."

I would have responded, but I felt like I had been hit by an electrical charge. The sensation of her fingers on my most private body part was so intense that my answer choked in my throat, cutting off any response. She touched again, this time lower, and now my pulse was beginning to race.

Perhaps ten, maybe fifteen seconds had elapsed. Rachel's moment of curiosity was over. The incident was at an end and it was time to return to trying on clothes. But instead, Rachel's fingertips touched once more, like butterfly wings, across the lips of my vulva. She glanced at me. I'm not sure what she saw. I felt bewildered, but I must have looked excited or curious. What I saw in Rachel's eye's was a burning look that spoke of both suddenly discovered desire and fear that she had transgressed too far.

I continued to say nothing. The sound of my heart pounded in my ears and I felt hot, so hot I thought I was going to faint. Rachel's fingers moved again, slowly, first up and then down over my softening, swelling lips. I felt moisture slip into place and when she brushed her fingers once more, I knew there was no going back. She too felt my wetness and realized she received the signal she was looking for.

We were standing just inches from each other. Rachel was still in her pants, but earlier had taken her shirt off, so she was just wearing a bra. I remember looking at her, not her eyes so much, but her neck and below to where her breasts began to swell out.

I've seen many other women's bosom and cleavage and have never responded sexually to it. Yet, I found myself staring at Rachel's breasts, wrapped in her bra, but looking so alluring, so erotic. Rachel was slightly bent forward so I could see them hang forward like fruit for me to pluck and hold. I had this intense desire to touch them, lift them from the bra cups and hold them in my hands, to finger her nipples, feel them grow rigid.

Not a word was said now; the silence was deafening as I absorbed the intense sensation of just two fingers fluttering with ever-increasing pressure against the lips of my vagina. My wetness increased rapidly and it wasn't long before her fingers were rubbing the inside of me, moistening the hood over my clitoris, bringing its pebble size to erect excitement.

The only sounds in the room was of our breathing, so shallow, yet sounding so lustful, along with the wet, smacking sound of Rachel's fingers now probing deep inside of me. I could feel the orgasmic plateau coming towards me, too fast it seemed, like a rushing wall of water. There was no stopping it now. I felt my muscles begin to lose control. If you have every masturbated or made love standing up, you know that feeling. The legs go rubbery, the thigh muscles shake, and the blood rushes from the head to the loins and leaves you light-headed.

I leaned against the wall as the moment of rapture overwhelmed me. My throbbing vagina seized Rachel's long, curved fingers and squeezed them as my legs buckled and the most intense orgasm swept outwards from my vagina to engulf my whole quivering body. Rachel glanced into my eyes as I orgasmed. I don't think I said anything. Maybe I gasped, maybe I sighed. I don't remember. It was utterly wonderful and thrilling at the same time. I felt like we had just had the most intense love-making session ever, and yet she had just touched me with her two fingers.

The silence continued for a moment longer as the waves of pleasure continued to roll through my body until I finally swallowed and managed to meekly speak. "Oh my," was all I could muster. Rachel let her fingers slide slowly out of my aching vagina and I noticed her hand was now shaking. At once, I knew everything had changed: my desire for Rachel, my desire to make love to a woman. It was a new sensation, but it burned brightly within me. And it burned within Rachel as well.