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They had talked for weeks, months even if she counted their first meetings in the chat-room, she counted them, she counted everything. Slowly they grew together, little by little every chat, every message drew them closer. He took his time, held her back from rushing, forced her to let their relationship develop, forced her to put friendship before need, trust before lust. He was everything she wanted, everything but fast. Day by day she felt the trust forming, like a warm coat on a cold day, he let her move, explore, but kept her warm, safe.Her friends talked of cyber-sex, she thought of his messages; her friends talked of cam-sex, she thought of his voice, the deep calm voice. Her friends talked of swapping names, swapping partners, swapping roles, she thought of swapping addresses, his and hers, but his first, he insisted. Her friends giggled over meaningless chat-room antics, she said nothing, they would not understand, she did not understand, not fully, not enough to explain it,. I moaned. God, I love having my breasts licked. "What's the matter, Marilyn?" she purred, raising her mocking face to mine. "Afraid of Mommy seeing your nipples?" Pulling me to her, Jenny crushed her mouth to mine. I closed my eyes, returning her kiss. Jenny was nibbling my ear while Carla browsed through our closet, choosing the clothes I was to wear that day. When my cell phone rang again, she bent down to deftly scoop it up from the carpet. I thought Carla was going to hand it to me -- instead, she answered it herself. "Hello?" she chirped, then paused. "No, this is Carla, I'm Marilyn's friend." She listened for a moment. "Okay, I'll let her know... she's doing her hair now." Carla grinned as she closed the phone with a flourish. "Mommy's heeeeerrrre," she sang. She tossed me my white tank top, and I pulled it on. It was pretty snug, and my nipples were clearly visible through the thin material. Then Carla handed me a skirt, and I stepped into it, fastening it around my.
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