Kelly's Liberation Ch. 02

"More, Kelly. More!" Libby demanded, jerking me out of my envisionings.

"Okay, okay," I grinned. "Hold your horses, Libs."

"Sorry," she apologised, with an audible grin at herself. "I am just... so into this..."

"Yeah..." I allowed, with my own tone going a bit higher, a bit lighter, just a bit flightier... "me too..." And I posted another pic -- now my shirt was off, dangling from my hand to the side, unveiling my most revealing sheer-white bra; my breasts were almost spilling out of the thing, I had so much cleavage on offer...

...and it was hot. I was hot. Everybody else thought I was hot, and Libby thought I was hot... and so I rubbed myself harder, harder, allowing an almost-inaudible moan to escape my lips.

But Libby didn't miss it. "Kelly," she began. "Are you... are you 'doing it' too?"

I grinned. She couldn't bring herself to actually ask the question, to actually say 'Kelly I have half my hand thrust hard up my pussy, I am totally fucking myself and it's awesome -- are you fucking yourself too?' She was still too genteel to say a thing like that to an old friend, and so was I; but somehow, not actually saying it made it all the more steamy. All the same, I wasn't going to make it too obvious: "I'm not sure I know what you mean..." I grinned, teasingly.

"I think you do know..." Libby returned, with a grin of her own. "And I think you are doing it... oh man..." she added in a small sigh. She must have opened the next picture I had posted, which showed me with my jeans unzipped and just starting their descent, halfway down my thighs. My underwear were visible, small white and tight and low-riding down on my hips, showing off quite a lot of good-looking upper pelvis; and I noted with pride, my breasts sat very nicely in my bra, sitting just so as I threw a subtle pose of sexiness.

"Well I will say," I began, as I loaded up the next picture, "I'm beginning to see what you mean: you do tend to get a bit riled-up as you keep posting your pics up..."

"Oh yeah," Libby agreed, wholeheartedly, with still a whisper of delighted arousal about her tone. "You're doing so well, Kelly; you're looking so hot; and you're getting so many people worked up as well. Look at all the posts going up inbetween yours..."

I had noticed myself that I was drawing lots of praise. Even in the few moments between each of my posts, people were typing up replies of heavy appreciation, and more than a few claims of 'enormous hard-ons' and implorations to 'keep it up, I'm gunna cum for you...'

But I didn't really care so much about these -- my focus was on Libby, and her building pleasure. I was getting such a kick and such a rise out of the unspoken knowledge that I was driving her to wild, abandoned distraction; the forbidden thrill of it, the sheer taboo of the situation was driving me on too, and I worked at myself ever harder, building ever higher with an incredible and unexpected pleasure as I rubbed at my sopping clit and delved as far as I could into my burning, quivering hot cunt... and I knew Libby did the same.

"Just excuse me a second," I said quickly -- I wasn't getting at myself as well as I wanted and needed, my pants did not afford enough access. So I stood and whipped them off and I threw them to the floor, even as the whole world downloaded my next pic: the very same jeans, falling to the floor as I aimed my arse at the camera, revealing a fairly conventional white cotton bikini-bottom that still rode quite low, somehow accentuating the generous set of my buttocks: not fat, that much I knew now, but good and big all the same, still with a nicely-curving perkiness that served me well.

Libby must have heard the dropping of my pants over the phone -- "ooh, good idea," she said, and I heard her remove her own clothes, obviously for all the better at getting at herself. Just like me.

The penny had dropped. We both knew exactly what we were doing now, and there was little point in pretending otherwise. "Oh Libby..." I breathed, as both my hands fell to my dripping wetness, the fingers of one all over my clit and the fingers of the other plunging in and out of my grasping, ravenous little cunt, "...I can't believe we're doing this together..."

"Kelly..." Libby moaned aloud, her mounting pleasure utterly unadulterated now, "Kelly I'm so wet... I'm so, so wet..."

"Me too, Libs..." I groaned, as the exquisite vision flashed behind my eyeballs: Libby, half-naked now like me, her hands deep inside her, her face a contorted vision of pending orgasmic ecstasy, moaning and groaning and calling my name as she looked at my photos -- 'more photos' I berated myself, sparing a very-moist hand to post two pics at a time now: the first had me unhooking my bra, shot from the front to show my breasts standing right up, large and proud as I reached back with both arms; the second had the bra coming off, both cups clinging most precariously, barely hanging on, hardly retaining the mystery at all...

"Yes, yes, yes..." Lib groaned. "More. More!"

I posted more pics as quick as I could: the next had my arm over my bared breasts, the other laying my bra gently on the bed beside me; I stood front-to-camera, wearing nought but those tiny little whities, with a delicious set to my hips that said to the world "damn it, I know I'm hot! I challenge you to tell me otherwise!"

And in the next pic -- which I looked at myself so as to see what Libby was seeing as she touched herself while I touched myself -- the next pic had me turned back-to-camera as I peeled off my knickers; the little things were half-way down my thighs, showing the world my glorious bare arse, round like a bell-bottom swinging from my hips, and my back glorious and sexy and bare as I stood just so, my thumbs hooked into my knickers as I pushed them down...

"Ugh..." I heard Libby whimper, very softly, across the line: "I'm nearly there... Kells... I'm so close..."

The news instantly brought me to the brink too. "Uh huh..." I replied tremulously. "Libs... you're so hot Libs, I've looked at so many of your pics Libs, nearly all of them... ugh..."

"Yes...?" Libby prompted, as I fought desperately to control myself enough to talk, type and masturbate all at once.

"Libby, I've looked over your pics, I've watched you undress so slowly, so sexily..." I was ready now: I was ready for Libby to know the truth, I wanted her to know, and the consequences be damned "...and I've come, Libby. I've touched myself and I've come..."

"Ohhh..." Libby quivered over the line: "I'm gunna come too, Kells... show me the last pics, your pics are so fucking sexy, they're gunna make me come tooooo..."

I finally got the last pictures posted: second-to-last was the one I had originally sent Libby, with me curled naked on the bed, arms positioned over my nipples and pussy to barely maintain the mystery; and the last one had me kneeling up on the bed now, arms raised triumphantly over my (cropped-out) head to fluff my hair; my tits stood tall and proud, bared and free, my enormous nipples erect with the excitement of showing myself to the world; and my pussy was there, just barely there to be seen -- I had angled my hips backwards quite expertly so as not to show a gaping cunt, but instead to point it just far enough way from the camera as to provide a hint of pink lips spread and exposed, with perhaps just a tiny little drip of thick white moisture there to be seen...

"Yes," Libby said, hotly and heavily, and I knew the last pic had her there -- she was on the home stretch now. "Yes, yes, yes, yes...!"

"Come for me Libby," I cried, I demanded. "Come for me. Come with me Libby! Come with meeee!"

"I'm comiiiiing!" Libby announced in an anguished, wailing cry -- and we came, we came together, we came really hard. We both sat there and came and came and came; separated by distance but together in mind and spirit, gnashing and screaming for each other as we pounded at ourselves unbearably, both of us with fingers deep inside our hot tight wet little holes as we fingered and rubbed and slapped at ourselves, and we came and came and came.

We finally finished ourselves, I collapsed with exhaustion before the computer and I imagined she did the same, and we just sat there gasping and groaning as our phone bills ticked over to stratospheric highs. "Kelly?" I finally heard, after an eternity of tingling, head-spinning afterglow. "Kells? Are you still there?"

"I'm still here," I panted, still lolling with the light-headed wonder of what we had just done.

"Oh Kelly," Libby declared. "That... was... fucking... AWESOME!"

"It was," I couldn't help but agree. But I was troubled; the reality of it was starting to set in. "But Libs: what did we just do? Was that... was that phone sex?"

"Umm," said Libby, as she thought on it. "Well, I'm sorry Kelly," she began, though I could hear that wicked grin of hers setting in again, "but I'm sure there's nothing else we could call that. We just totally phone-fucked... and it was the most awesome thing ever."

"Oh Libby," I groaned, as I railed against myself. "What have I done?? I've phone-fucked with my oldest friend... and I've cheated on Tom?"

"You call that 'cheating'?" Libby asked with genuine surprise. "Kells, I've gotta tell you -- I've done that with Tom already. I've sent him pics while I talked with him on the phone, and we both totally lost it. Just like that."

I blinked. "You... you did?" I asked, not sure how to feel about it.

"It's not really cheating, not really," Libby reasoned. "I don't really feel that Tom and I cheated on you, and I don't think that you have cheated on Tom with me. I mean: I'm not GAY, or anything," she added, and I could hear old right-wing Libby setting back into her tone. "Phone-fucking isn't like regular-fucking or anything. Neither of us are gay or anything like that; it was just a bit of fun, don't you think?"

I honestly had no idea what to think. All I knew was it had been one of the biggest, highest, most mountainous orgasms I've ever had, and Tom's treated me to quite a few Killimanjaros in my time. "Well..." I began. "If Tom's already done it with you, then I guess I shouldn't feel too guilty about what we've done..."

"Absolutely," Libby agreed. "Anyways, I've made just a little bit of a gushing mess here. I might take my leave of you and go clean up."

"Libby!" I cried -- I hadn't thought she'd be able to shock me after our little hard-to-define encounter, but she'd gone and done it all the same.

Libby chuckled cheekily in reply. "God bless you, Kelly. You're fucking awesome. Keep up the good work in front of the camera... and do be sure to message me next time you're going to post some pics, okay?"

"Only if you're lucky, Libs," I told her, and we bade each other farewell.

With her gone off the phone, I stood still in absolute shock; I had simply given myself to total, guttural, animal abandonment in what we had done, so much so that with my reason returned I just did not know how to think or feel about it. I was in absolutely no rush to call her again, or see her -- God, how could I face her again, knowing what we had done, what we had shared... what we had seen of each other, heard from each other, told each other and done together? It was all so wonderful and terrible, all at once... I just had to leave it alone. I had to try to forget it for now, and just get on with my life.

So I packed up Tom's camera and tripod, and stuffed them deep back into the cabinet from whence they came. Shock, shame and uncertainty had me thinking I'd never again pose before the camera, nude or otherwise, and that I would very possibly never again see or talk to Libby -- regardless of the friendship we had once had.

But of course, I was to be proven wrong... on both counts.