My Times With Chloe, Part Three — 1982

by Honey West

The Journey concert was over and my roommate and I (and thousands of others) piled our way out of the stadium into the hot sultry summer night. I had parked my car four blocks away but the crowded streets made me feel fairly safe as we ambled the city lanes.

I had caught a pretty good buzz from the seemingly endless hash pipes and joints that were passed around during the show and should have been enjoying it had I not been too busy keeping an eye on Sharon. My roommate, a lovely and intelligent girl in the daylight hours, just didn’t know when to say ‘when’ when it came to substance abuse. She had drinks before the show, smoked too much during and did god-knows-what drugs in the ladies room between bands. It was times like this that I told myself I needed to find a new roommate as I worked at keeping her from stumbling and falling on her face. With about two blocks left to go, she announced that she was going to be sick and almost fell forward as she retched. Fortunately I grabbed the back of her shirt (along with her bra strap) and was able to keep her from landing in her spew. There I was holding her like a dog on a short leash as she was yakking, praying she didn’t get any on my new boots, as party-goers walked by laughing, cheering or acting disgusted. I felt foolish but she was my friend so I continued to brace my knees and hold her suspended as she continued. A group of six or seven couples were passing by and I heard a woman say “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“Fuck off!” I answered, feeling embarrassed and pissed as the group kept on walking by us.

It was then that everything became background noise and the woman’s words shot back to me. I pulled Sharon back up to standing position and turned to see that, while the group had continued walking, the woman had stopped and turned around the same time I did. The few words we had said to each other crystallized into memory. She cocked her head, not sure if it were possible.

“Anna?”

“Chloe,” I whispered.

I guess the buzz made me think a little slower. I stood there for a moment not sure what to say. Chloe and I were best friends when we were eleven years old and, even more, we were lovers. We discovered Sapphic love in a treehouse one early summer night and continued our education on the subject for five more months before my father, a Navy man, was reassigned to a new base and we tearfully parted. In the ten years since then I have, at times, thought of her in my sexual fantasies. Not obsessively but with fond and sensuous feeling. I used to wonder where she was and how life was treating her and assumed that we probably would never meet again. Now here I was staring at her dumbly on a hot summer night and at a loss for words.

“Anna, you’re beautiful,” she smiled. The words lit up inside of me. I suddenly felt beautiful. I was a skinny, flat-chested, hipless wonder at that age but fortunately my later years turned out well. At about thirteen my boobs shot out and the rest of me followed. Now, at twenty-one, with full rounded hips and pretty nice legs, I looked alright in a bikini.

“You look wonderful,” was all I could say. And she did. Though her face had thinned out a bit and her hair was no longer Trish Nixon’s but straight and close to her skin, she looked exactly as I would have imagined her at this age. Her tight blue jeans and well-filled blouse gave me that wonderful feeling of jealousy and lust that I had long ago held for her.

We approached and hugged as old friends, aware of the people around us. It was a reflex from the past when we didn’t want to give ourselves away to others. I felt her hands grip my arms as we grinned at each other. “Long time,” she said and I nodded, “Did you enjoy the concert?”

I nodded again, cursing myself for being so mute. Just then Sharon bumped into my back.

“Anna, I gotta go home. I don’t feel good,” she slurred.

A young man from the group had held behind and was waiting on Chloe. Her boyfriend? Lover? He made a polite motion that the gang was getting far ahead and Chloe looked at me.

“Your phone number. Quick.”

I stumbled the number out as Sharon wrapped her arm around me for support and Chloe hugged me again and then joined her companion. As they walked away she turned and held her pinkie up for me.

The phone rang the very next day much to my relief. I had worried that she hadn’t written the info down or that I might have messed up the number. We made plans to meet at a downtown bistro that night and ‘talk over old times’ (her words). I felt nervous again. Just talk? I knew that last night I would have pulled her tight jeans off in the street if she’d asked me to. Now I worried that she was perhaps a different person who might not want to pull MY pants down. Maybe she found religion. Maybe she’d become a practicing hetero. My god, maybe she sold Amway products! When we met at the café, it turned out to be much worse than that: she was in love.

“His name is Keith. You saw him last night. We’ve been dating almost a year now. We’ve been talking about moving in together. It’s just that…damn, I wish we’d met at last year’s concert. You understand?”

Actually, I did understand. In our pre-teen time together we talked of hopes of husbands and Prince Charmings and such. I knew how Chloe thought in those terms and I knew what love meant to her. Love meant fidelity. I told her the truth. That it was a disappointing and wonderful thing to hear. She smiled and we began to spend our time together as we did before the treehouse: as friends. We enjoyed movies and concerts, shopping and parties, often with Keith in between us. He had the gall to be a really nice guy and he made Chloe smile so that was good.

Then one night Chloe and I went to a Rocky Horror Picture Show. My apartment was not far from the theater so she met me there and we walked to the show. When it was over we were good and buzzed and walking out arms over shoulders. It was not just raining but pouring. Lightning and thunder flashed through the night. Chloe’s car was too far away so we ran back to my place and stumbled in laughing and soaking wet. The power was out and I lit enough candles until the room was glowing. Letting our clothes dry in the bathroom, we sat in bathrobes and opened a bottle of wine. My roommate, Sharon, had quit college earlier and I was now handling the rent on my own. We opened the living room curtains wide, sat on the couch and watched nature’s light show as we drank and talked. We talked about politics, movies, MTV and the rumours of a strange new disease that was striking people down in the gay community. We turned to lighter subjects and talked about Keith. The whole time we talked I was aware of the sexual presence that was in the room. I was aware of Chloe’s body naked under that terrycloth robe, of her full breasts hidden by the light fabric, of her long legs unconsciously rubbing softly against themselves. The wine, the pot, the candles, the flashing night sky… All ingredients for a perfect seduction. My robe was thicker and heavier and I felt myself warming up underneath. When she emptied her glass I automatically refilled it. And yet something tugged at me. Could it be that seducing Chloe was a risk to our friendship? I wasn’t certain and part of me cared. (The other part of me wondered if her pussy tasted the same as it did ten years ago.) I lit a joint (I was quite a stoner in those days) and decided to be noble and remind her again of her boyfriend.

“So,” I exhaled and handed her the pot, “Be honest now. Did you ever tell Keith about you and me? Way back when.”

“Oh no,” she laughed, “If I ever told him of any of the freaky things I’ve done he’d probably flip out.”

My ears perked up. “Oh? Trish Nixon did other ‘freaky’ things? How come I never heard about it?”

“Jeez, I hate it when you call me that. And you never heard about it ‘cause we haven’t seen each other in ten years. Not that I’d tell you anything now.”

“Why not?”

Chloe hesitated. “Because…Well you’d think I was ‘freaky’ that’s why. And I’m not. I’ve just done some freaky things that’s all. Besides, you haven’t told me anything either.”

That’s true. Our accounting of our formative years consisted of pretty dull stuff if we really thought about it. Chloe had told me of several boyfriends during her high school days; I admitted to losing my official virginity to Scott Walters behind the base picnic grounds. It was fun but no big shakes. I tended to lean to some occasional girl-girl action when I could but what I didn’t tell her would indeed shock her. I was curious. Chloe was hesitating again as if she was trying to make up her mind.

She took a full gulp of her wine. She then cocked her eyebrow at me. “I’ll tell you what. You tell me the kinkiest thing you’ve done and I’ll do the same. No lies. Whaddya say.”

I saw an inner emotion in Chloe that seemed familiar. I realized that I had the same emotion. We both wanted to get our truths out. “All right. But you first. And we swear! Swear not to think the other is too weird. I promise. You?”

“Deal.” And Chloe held out her pinkie and we linked our fingers.

Chloe’s Story:

“Well, you know how it was. After you left I was heartbroken. Inconsolable. My friends tried to make me feel better about losing my best friend (some of them probably guessed the truth) but I would still cry at night and mope all day. Then school started again and life went on. The holidays were soon upon us and school was out for Christmas break. One morning the phone rang and it was Rose, our favorite grandmother! She was back from Europe and spending the holidays with her family. She had learned from Tommy about you moving away and she called to see how I was. I thought I was okay but I actually started to cry over the phone. Rose suggested an afternoon of Christmas shopping with her in the city to cheer me up but I kinda knew what she really meant. It seemed that back then, even at eleven years old, when school was out we kids had free rein to wander off and disappear for the day. I left a note for my folks that I was shopping with friends and Rose picked me up in her ’67 Mustang.

Anna, I did miss you badly but I must confess that my thoughts were easily distracted to more selfish aims once I slid into the leather bucket seat. Rose looked great. Both her hairstyle and her clothing had changed to a more conservative look but when she gave me that devilish smile I knew I was going to enjoy the day. “It’s my Christmas present to my son,” she laughed, “I promised to behave in front of Tommy and not brag about the love-ins in London or the great hashish in Amsterdam.” I had worn a short skirt and she patted my leg and told me that she understood how it felt to miss a friend. We drove straight to a lovely hotel in the heart of the city where she had a room already. “If anyone asks, you’re my grand-daughter,” she whispered. I was awed by the sumptuous look of the foyer as she picked up her key and we went through the bustling lobby into the elevator. As soon as the door shut to our room, she produced a joint (out of nowhere, of course) and we smoked it as we looked out over the city. The anticipation was driving me mad. She looked at me with her bedroom eyes (You’re right, Anna, she did look like a heftier Susan Sarandon) and led me from the balcony into the bedroom, where there were wrapped presents in the corner. “I brought some things from abroad. They were for both you and Anna. I’m sure she would be honored if you accept everything that was intended for her.”

And with that she kissed me gently but deeply. We hugged standing up and my face pushed into her pillowy breasts. I felt the zipper of my dress go down and I stood there in panties and bra as she looked me over with beaming eyes. Then I got to undress her, watching her boobs spill out of her bra and into my small hands. I tweaked those large nipples until the buttons in the middle turned hard. She seemed Amazonian next to my eleven-year-old body. Without warning she scooped me up into her arms and laid me gently onto the bed, her heat-radiating tits settling on my stomach as she bent over me. Our hands were everywhere. I lustfully groping the flesh and warmth of her mature frame, she probing the soft yet firm skin of youth.

Oh, Anna, the things we did! I swear I licked every inch of her buxom figure. I buried my face in her cunt until I felt her gushing honey that ran down my neck. I tickled her ass with my tongue until that crinkled brown hole was pouting at me like a goldfish. When I kissed her my face was sopping wet with her juices and she ate it up. I squatted over her and she stuck her tongue straight up my bumhole. And when we started grinding our pussies together! Lord, I came and came and came.

At one point we lay there catching our breaths when I felt the call of nature. “I have to pee.” I announced and as I sat up Rose caught me around the waist and pulled me on top of her. “You really have to pee?” she asked. Umm, yeah, I said. She had this look in her eye and her breasts were rising up and down. “Okay, Go ahead. Pee on me. Please. Pretty please.” It seemed a bit weird and I said I couldn’t. Besides, we were on a hotel bed. “You tell them you had an accident, tip them extra and they put in a new mattress. Now pee. Please.” I suppose to a more sophisticated woman this was no big deal but to my pre-teen sensibilities…oh hell, it actually sounded a little fun but I still couldn’t bring myself to let fly on this woman’s body. “All right,” she said as I realized she had begun fingering her cunt again, “I’ll show you how.” And before I knew it she had rolled me over and was straddling over me, pussy to pussy. Instead of saying anything I just held my breath in anticipation as she dipped her fingers into my slit, closed her eyes and moaned and then brought those same fingers to her mouth to suck the juices. All was still for a moment and then she grunted and a shot of pee hit my belly right at the start of my light pubic patch. Another longer arc hit further up and rolled into my belly button. It felt hot and sexy on my white skin. Rose then sighed as a long continuous stream poured out of her and over my body. The force of her piss became stronger and a river of golden fluid cascaded between and around my tits, pouring over my sides and under my back. The bedsheet was getting soaked. So was my little cunny. I looked with fascination as she pulled her layered lips apart and exposed her pee-hole as she whizzed. There was only a trace smell of piss as I enjoyed the sensation of a smooth spray of clear urine coating my chest. Damn she had to go. Still peeing, she fell forward on me so that her tits smooshed onto my small boobs. (I thought I was well developed for eleven but next to Rose I felt like a toddler.) I could feel the liquid coursing between us and she kissed me with passion as her stream began to die down. As the torrent subsided I heard the wet sounds coming from Rose’s cunt as she frigged herself. She came while her mouth was glued to mine and it was groovy feeling her scream around my tongue. (God did I say ‘groovy’?)

She rested on me for a bit then went to the bathroom and came back with a towel to dry me off. “Oh my that was nice, child, thank you. I couldn’t tell you why but that just does something to me. And stop worrying about the mattress. I just tell the hotel that I’m an old lady with a bladder problem and they always put plastic under the sheets.” She looked at me as if maybe she’d gone too far. “Are you all right Chloe?”

I gave her a serious look. “No I’m not all right. I still have to pee!” I pulled her forward back onto the bed and stood over her to her delight. She actually giggled as I pulled my sparsely covered lips apart and concentrated on pissing. Suddenly it arced out of me and splashed off her right globe. She moaned and spread it over her chest as my pee came down in a sloppy but solid waterfall. It was much more yellow than hers and the scent of it was stronger. I crouched obscenely and directed the spray all over her, the splattering sound on her fleshy skin turning me on. Then she surprised me by sitting up and putting her mouth right to my cunt. I was peeing on her face! She was rubbing her nose and cheeks all over my mound and the piss shot upwards, to the sides and down her neck as she nuzzled my slit. When I was done she continued to eat my pussy until I came (which only took seconds) and my legs began to wobble out from underneath me.

Later, as we rested, Rose told me she had wanted to do that since the time I had peed on her from the treehouse.

I shifted around with my legs curled underneath me as I listened to Chloe tell her secret to me.

“I haven’t done something like that with anyone since,” she continued, “Oh, it’s been in my fantasies. I’ve sort of done by myself at times. I’ve even peed in my panties when I was alone. I’ve rented Barbara Broadcast three times already just for that scene. I just… Well, Keith seems a bit strait-laced. Not in a bad way, I mean, it’s just…” she looked at me seriously, “It’s just that I’ve never told anyone about this. Except you now…. Well? Do you still love me, Anna?”

There was silence in the air. Not even thunder. I wanted it that way that moment. My eyes were half closed and she cocked her head. A light squishing sound could suddenly be heard. Chloe saw that I was holding my glass of wine with one hand, the other was tucked under my bathrobe.

“Are you..?”

“Am I fingering my pussy? Yeah, I am. I always do when I hear something hot. I still love you, Chloe. I did when we were eleven, I did when we saw each other outside the concert hall, I do even if you’re damned ‘faithful’. I would do whatever fantasy you wanted if it meant that I could hold you naked in my arms again. You’re not ‘weird’ you’re just plain sexy.” And with that I pulled my finger out and put it to my lips, first sniffing my scent and then sucking it clean.

Chloe’s eyes seemed to glow under the candlelight. “You know, you really had no tits when we were young. I keep wanting to see how they look now.”

My hand started to reach for the sash of my robe when suddenly the power came back on. I had flicked the switch when we first came in and now the overhead and side lamps exploded into harsh light that made us squint. The radio joined in and made us jump. (I keep it on when I’m not home, it makes the place sound occupied.) We grabbed our hearts in mock fright, giggled and suddenly everything was awkward. Chloe clumsily rose, motioned that she’d be right back and headed for the bathroom. I sat there feeling like a fool but not sure why. The glaring lights had been a real mood breaker but I think it was fidelity’s close call that did it. I heard the toilet flush and Chloe went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Too much wine,” she chuckled and she called her boyfriend. I stood up and looked around for something to clean up, feeling a little low inside. Then my heart jumped for real. Chloe was telling Keith that she had too much to drink and was staying here for the night! They exchanged kisses over the phone and when she hung up she opened the fridge and located my last bottle of Riesling. As I stood there stoned she switched off the lights and we were again in the glow of candles. She brought the bottle to me and said, “Make it work. I don’t have luck with corkscrews.”

I wanted to embrace her but she stopped me. “Uh-uh. Open that bottle of wine, fire up that roach and tell me a story. Remember? You owe me a story. The kinkiest thing you did.

I poured the glasses, lit the roach, there was even music now, the radio was playing some Michael Franks. I told my story.

End of part three.