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Annabelle had her back to me and I ran my eyes up and down her body, silently admiring her form – the curve of her thighs and butt, the way her shoulders looked in that sleeveless shirt. Even from behind, on this angle, I could see the fullness of her chest.
She turned and smiled at me as she handed me a tall glass of water.
“How are the boys doing?” she asked.
Her son Pete and my son Max were playing the in the sandpit in her backyard.
“They’re good. No fighting at all so far this morning,” I replied before taking a sip of water. The day was starting to warm up and the humidity was rising.
“They’re good playmates,” Annabelle said. “I’m glad they get along so well together. Pete gets on with Max better than anyone else in the group.”
I had known Annabelle since before little Pete was born. She and her husband Richard were part of the same parent’s group as me and my ex-girlfriend Jenny. Now our kids were toddlers and a core group of about eight couples remained good friends. We all lived within a few blocks of each other and although only some of us knew each other before having kids, we got on well.
Annabelle and Richard seemed to have something of a fairytale story. They were highschool sweethearts who had been married for almost 10 years. They had been trying to conceive and after a period of worrying that they might not be able to, they had the child they’d been yearning for.
Jenny and I, however, were something of a smouldering disaster. Our relationship was passionate but volatile and we fought like cats and dogs. We had been together for almost a year when I decided the relationship had to end. We were in a perpetual cycle of fighting, followed by intense making up, followed by more fighting, over and over.
I’ll never forget the day we agreed to meet for coffee after I’d resigned myself that I would end the relationship. It was a Sunday afternoon and we’d been fighting all week. I’d decided to make a final break – no more getting back together. When Jenny sat down I could sense something different about her and before I could launch into my speech about how we needed to end it, she said those two mortifying words – “I’m pregnant!”
“I really admire you and Jenny for how you worked things out,” Annabelle said, leaning her butt slightly against the kitchen bench, glass in hand.
“You did the right thing, for both of you and for little Max.”
Annabelle placed down the glass and put the palm of her hand on the bench for support. I pretended to be staring at nothing but let my eyes take in the bend of her elbow all the way up to her armpit, which was now shaped like an inverted crescent because of her pose. The dark hairs of her pit were clearly visible and I allowed myself to savour the view for a few seconds before meeting her eyes again.
“Yeah, it was hard to start with but it’s much better now. We’re both doing really well at staying friends and it’s working better than we expected,” I replied, looking at Annabelle’s dark eyes.
When Jenny insisted on keeping the baby we both agreed to see a relationship counsellor. Things settled down for us during the pregnancy because it basically became our only focus. Things went well after Max was first born as we were buoyed by that buzz you get with a new baby in the house.
However, by the time he was about six months old we started having the same fights again. We went back to the counsellor but after Max’s first birthday we realised that we just weren’t meant to be together. Thankfully, for all Jenny’s faults, she is very warm-hearted and we both agreed that Max was our most important priority.
We worked out the custody arrangements and were surprised by how supportive our friends and family were of our decision. Most people agreed it was better for Max to be raised by two people who were happy, rather than a couple that was miserable. My parents and Jenny’s parents have been great and he’s now being raised by his father and grandparents one week, and his mother and other grandparents the next.
“I’m proud of you both,” Annabelle said, leaning forward and squeezing my forearm. She left hand there for a few seconds before leaning back against the bench.
“Did you know Jenny has a boyfriend at the moment?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I met him the other week. He’s a nice guy actually. And they seem to get on well,” I said with a chuckle.
“You’re not jealous?” she asked.
“No, I’m not the jealous type.”
“That’s good to know.” Annabelle smiled. “And how’s your love life?”
“Pretty quiet. I’m still looking,” I replied.
“Still looking, eh,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever look at me?”
I was shocked by how blunt her question was. I went to have a sip of water but realised my glass was empty. Annabelle watched me as I tried to think of what to say.
“Honestly …” she said softly. “Do you ever look at me?”
I swallowed hard and said in a dry voice. “Honestly? Yeah, I do … but I try not to.”
“Really? Why? Why do you try not to?”
She urla escort was still speaking softly.
“I thought that would be obvious,” I said. “You’re married. I shouldn’t be staring at you because you’re married. It’s wrong … somehow … for you and for Richard.”
A little smile crept across her face. “I know you look at me. I just wanted you to admit it.”
In my mind I tracked back a few weeks. It was my weekend to look after Max and we were in the park, I was crouched down, playing with him on the ground. An older boy – about four – wanted to hang on the monkey bars but couldn’t reach. Annabelle walked over to him and offered to help. I was a few feet away and watched as she bent over the boy to pick him up.
It was a warm day and she was wearing a tank top and her cleavage was obvious. She lifted the boy up by the hips holding him steady while he gripped the bars. Her arms were up, elbows pointed out and her pits were fully exposed.
Both of us were wearing sunglasses and I stared at the concave curve of her pit. The position meant the curve of her underarm was at its most full and her pits looked their deepest. I’d noticed her armpits before but this gave me an uninterrupted view of the lovely covering of dark wavy hair in her underarm. Her hairs weren’t overly long – maybe half an inch – but they were thick and covered a great expanse of her pits. From the area where they started, down near her chest, going up towards her elbow I think the hairs would have covered about four inches of her underarms. The strip of short, wavy black hair was not in an exact straight line, more like the beginning of a lazy “s” and at its widest was probably about one to two inches across the pale skin of her pit.
She put the boy back on the ground. “You liked that, didn’t you? Want me to do it again?” she said in a sing-song voice.
The kid nodded and in my head I was screaming, “Yes! Please, do it again!”
She lifted him up again and I was again treated to the view of her fur-covered underarms. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said. She was talking to the kid but I felt like she was looking at me.
She put the boy back on the ground. “You liked that, didn’t you? You want me to do that again, don’t you?” she said. This time her head was up and she was looking at me when she spoke.
The kid was giggling and she repeated the process. She lifted him up and set him down at least five more times and each time she said the teasing words. I was staring at her, mesmerised. At last the kid said he was going to play in the sandpit and Annabelle ruffled his hair and smiled.
She then put both her hands up on the monkey bar, arching her back slightly, pushing her big breasts forwards, stretching her arms back above her head. We were in direct line of sight to each other and I continued staring at her pits.
“Phew, that was hard work,” she said to me laughing softly. She stayed in that position for a little longer, smiling gently. And I stayed where I was, soaking up the view.
She smiled at me, put her arms down and said, “I’d better go check on little Pete.”
I’d always thought Annabelle was very attractive. She has strong features, dark hair and a curvaceous body. I’d always kept my eyes open for a chance to catch a glimpse of her pits.
And those opportunities were fairly frequent in the warmer weather. Annabelle was completely relaxed about her body and didn’t seem to care if people were offended by her unshaven armpits. And if she was wearing any type of sleeveless top you could not help but see them.
I enjoyed gazing at them whenever I could but at the same time I felt guilty about it, especially as I considered Richard as a friend and they seemed so happy together as a couple.
“Would you like me to re-fill your glass?” Annabelle said, snapping my thoughts back into the present.
“No. I’m ok. Thanks,” I replied. “It sounds like the boys are getting unsettled.”
We could hear the boys fighting over something in the sandpit.
“You know … You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself about staring at me,” Annabelle said, speaking softly, despite the noise outside.
“I know you do it … and to be honest … I like it. I feel your eyes on me and … and to be honest … it turns me on.
I was silent, trying to take this in.
“And as for Richard … well, he knows you look at me and I can assure you … he does not mind at all, either.”
The words hung there in the room.
Then both voices from the sandpit became wails and I didn’t get to say the questions I was so desperate to ask.
When we got outside both boys had a death grip on either end of a toy dump truck. Max’s face was covered with sand little Pete was screaming “Mine! Mine! Mine!”
I picked up Max, dusted off his clothes and took him inside to the bathroom. I washed the sand off his face and calmed him down.
“I’m going to take this little guy home for a sleep,” I said to Annabelle, while Max wriggled in my arms.
We looked at each other and knew it was menderes escort the wrong time to try to discuss what had just been said so I bundled Max to the door. Little Pete was clinging to Annabelle’s leg and she limped down the hall to see me out.
I sensed she wanted to hug me or kiss me goodbye but the kids made it impossible.
I spent the whole day turning her words over in my head. I was desperate to call her but felt uncomfortable doing so. That night, after Max was asleep and the house was quite, I was sitting on the couch with my mind wandering back to Annabelle.
A slide-show played through my mind. It was a montage of each of the times I had seen her raise her arms near me. I thought of her pit hairs and I let my hand creep down to my cock as I thought of her upraised arms. I was beginning to fantasise when the phone rang – sounding like an alarm.
It was Annabelle.
“Hi, how you doing?”
She was completely calm and chatted like the morning never happened.
“We’re going to the playgroup thing at the park tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “We can all go together … or if you want a break for the afternoon, we can take Max for you.”
Jenny and I had arranged to meet there and for her to take Max home with her for the week. I told this to Annabelle and she said she’d be at my house at 1 o’clock.
“Listen, I’ve got some things I want to do tomorrow afternoon, so you don’t mind if Richard takes both boys, do you?” Annabelle asked down the phone.
“I mean, there’ll be lots of people there to help and Jenny too, so if it’s all right with you …?”
“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good. As long as Richard doesn’t mind.”
“Actually, he suggested it,” Annabelle said.
It was right on 1 o’clock when Richard beeped the horn. Max toddled out and I carried his car seat and a couple of bags. We exchanged greetings. Richard gave me a big smile and I loaded in the gear and fitted the car seat. The car’s air-conditioning made the car a little oasis from the midday warmth and humidity.
“All his gear – his hat, suncream, water bottle – is in this red bag,” I said to Richard.
Annabelle stayed in the passenger seat until Max was buckled in and then she opened the door and stepped out. She went around the car to Richard, who wound down the window. He whispered something in her ear and they kissed, slow and passionate, for about five seconds.
“Have fun,” Richard said to Annabelle. He turned to me and waved through the windscreen, before rolling the car smoothly down the street. He gave a final toot of the horn before turning out of my street and he was gone.
Annabelle and I stood on the footpath. She was wearing a flowing cotton top and light cotton pants and was holding a few hessian grocery bags.
“So … what are you doing this afternoon,” I asked, a little awkwardly.
“I’m cooking dinner tonight, so I was going to pick up some things from the grocer up on Edward Street. They have good stuff there. I was going to walk from here, grab a few ingredients and go home and start the dinner prep,” she replied.
“… but it’s pretty warm at the moment. I wouldn’t mind a cold drink.”
I nodded and smiled and invited her in.
We were in the kitchen. I had my head in the fridge and she was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning against the door frame.
“I’ve got cold water, cold oj, cold beer, cold white wine,” I said, my voice slightly muffled by the fridge.
“Definitely orange juice,” she replied.
I shook the bottle vigorously and the pulp moved off the bottom of the bottle and swirled through the middle.
“Looks good,” Annabelle said, as I poured two glasses. “Nice and fresh.”
“I got it from the Edward Street grocer,” I said smiling. “They have good stuff.”
We both laughed and gently clinked our glasses together. We were silent as we drank and Annabelle finished her glass quickly.
“It’s still warm, isn’t it?” she said as she handed me her empty glass. She began to casually unbutton her cotton shirt. I watched as she revealed her cleavage and then let the shirt fall open as she undid each sleeve button. Without looking up she slid it off and tossed it on the back of a chair, revealing the white tank top she was wearing underneath.
“That’s better,” she said. I offered her another drink but she said she only wanted the tiniest sip, so she reached out and took my glass. She looked at me as she drank and as she handed back the glass she spoke.
“Do you notice how sometimes when you drink orange juice, it makes your saliva go quite sticky? Maybe that’s why I like it so much … Maybe that’s just me,” she said giggling.
I was looking at her with a dumb grin on my face. I finished the drink and put the glass on the bench.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish our conversation yesterday,” Annabelle said. “I just want you to know that anything that happens is ok. It’s ok with me and it’s ok with Richard.”
“I know you’re attracted to me narlıdere escort and I’m attracted to you too, to be honest. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”
I was stunned.
I nodded. “So … are you and Richard … swingers?” I asked slowly.
“No! Definitely not!” she replied sharply. “We have an unusual kind of relationship. I guess you’d call it an open relationship but we both know if the other person is interested in someone else. And nothing can happen without the other person’s permission, if you know what I mean. And it doesn’t happen very often either.”
“You see, both Richard and I have some tastes that some people might find unusual. I’m not like most women, as you’ve noticed.” She smiled. “Now some guys like that – really, really like that! And so do some women. But a lot of people don’t like it at all.”
She shifted slightly and stopped leaning. She raised her right hand, resting it up on the top of the doorframe. I stared blatantly at her armpit. It was the closest I had been to her while having open permission to look at her beautiful underarms. The dark hairs looked soft and I could see just the slightest sheen on perspiration on her skin.
“You see …” she continued. “It is hard to find someone with good taste, my taste … and if I’m attracted to them as well … then I don’t want to let that opportunity slip away.”
She reached out her other hand and firmly gripped my forearm. I tore my gaze away from her underarm and looked her in the eye.
“If everyone wants the same thing to happen …,” she whispered, “then sometimes it is best just to let it be … let it happen.”
I moved to her and put one hand up behind the shoulder of her raised arm. My other hand went to her breast and I moved my face to her exposed pit.
“Yes … yes,” she whispered.
I passionately tongue kissed the soft flesh of her underarm, taking in the dark hairs and letting my tongue swirl across her skin. The nipple that was under the thumb of my other hand went hard and I pushed my thumb against it. I continued to French kiss her pit, working my way from the middle, up to the top of her hairs and back down to the fabric of her tank top. My heart was pounding but I tried to keep my self control. When I first began my head was cocked to one side, so my nose was close to the side of her breast. I moved my mouth back up to the top of her pit and when I reached those top hairs, I changed the position of my mouth so my face was now on the other side as I worked my way down.
“Oh, that is so good,” she croaked. “Kiss me, kiss me.”
I continued to use my mouth on her pit, while kneading her big breast with my other hand, taking my time to savour the warm fleshy flavour of her underarm. After a few more minutes she said breathlessly, “Kiss me on the mouth.”
Before our lips came together, there was a moment when we both looked into each other’s eye. We could both feel the tension between us. We kissed and that passion was transferred through our mouths.
She lowered her arm and both my hands were now on her breasts. She changed position slightly and put her hand on her hip offering me the curve of her other armpit. I curled my tongue and followed the line of hair, letting my mouth suck on the curve of her inside shoulder. I went from one side to the other, slowly, several times, until Annabelle moved her hand off her hip and placed it behind her head.
“Lick me,” she said, and I flattened out my tongue and licked her pit in long, wide strokes, from the bottom to the top. I let my hands go down to Annabelle’s belly and I found the bottom of her tank top. I began to lift it up, revealing her white bra underneath. Annabelle lifted both her arms and after I’d removed her top she put her hands on the top of the door frame and I nussled into her cleavage. I licked the deep groove between her breasts and let my thumbs go to her pits, stroking upwards, feeling the wetness of her hairs. She was moaning softly, with her head tilted back, when she let one of her arms drop again, trapping my thumb in her pit.
Her hand felt for my crotch and she started to squeeze the lump that was trying to push its way out of my pants. Annabelle lifted my t-shirt and her hand went across my belly before she slipped her fingers under the top of my pants. Her fingers explored my pubic hair before finding the thick base of my cock. She let out a little “hmmm” and went to work freeing my dick from the constriction of my underwear. I had moved my mouth from her breasts back to her other armpit which was still exposed.
I was sucking on it as she unfurled my dick, pulled it upright and exposed the head of my cock above my pants.
Then she stood back and dropped to her knees. She quickly pulled down my pants and my underwear, so both were around my ankles. My dick stood proudly to attention and I could feel the small glob of pre-cum in the eye of my manhood.
“Nice and hard and nice and horny,” she said, holding the base of my dick with one hand. With the other she used her thumb to take off the clear, salty teardrop and she wiped it on the pubic hair at the base of my cock. She slid the head of my cock into her mouth and sucked gently, rolling her tongue over my eye, again and again. Then she licked down my shaft to where she left the pre-cum and she sucked my hairs, letting her lounge scoop down, licking my balls.
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