This story is about a very close friend of mine. We’re both huge fans of your magazine. When she reads this, she’ll know who wrote it.

We met at work almost a year ago, and over time became quite close. We shared a few drinks at the local watering hole with mutual acquaintances, a party or two with coworkers, and some quiet evenings over a home-cooked meal, listening to old albums. We seemed to be able to talk about anything and everything.

We’d tried to be lovers once, and my only regret about our one night of passion was that we were both just a little too crazy with excitement to take our time. It turned into a hurried grope fest. It was wonderful and I will never forget it as long as I live, but it was not the way our first night together should have been. If I could go back in time, the evening would have turned out this way:

After a long day at work, we would spend a quiet evening at your place, Marianna. You light a fire in the fireplace, and I grill a couple of steaks. We open a bottle of wine you like, and light half a dozen candles on the table. We take our time eating dinner while soft music plays on the stereo.

After dinner I lead you into the bathroom and draw a bubble bath in your oversized tub. We undress each other slowly, and climb into the steaming hot water. I wash you slowly and softly — your back, your shoulders, your neck, your breasts, your legs. After soaking in the tub for a while, we get up and dry each other off with a couple of those huge fluffy towels — and then we move into the bedroom.

You lie on your stomach and I give you a baby oil massage. I massage your back, your arms, your shoulders, your neck, your legs, your feet, and your butt. All the while, you are letting out little soft moans of pleasure. You are so warm and relaxed that you can hardly move, but when you’re ready, you roll over on your back so I can massage the rest of you.

I smooth the oil over your arms, your shoulders, your neck, your sides, your stomach, your breasts, and your legs. Your body is completely relaxed — no tension anywhere. I lie down beside you as I continue to massage you. My fingers are light as feathers, barely touching your skin. I kiss your ears, neck, face, and lips. I move down a little and kiss your breasts. My tongue gently circles your nipples. My hand is moving slowly up and down your thigh, and brushes ever so slightly against your clitoris. You let out a little cry. I continue caressing and kissing you, slowly working my way down your body. I kiss your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs. I rub my fingers and thumb slowly around your clitoris, your labia, around that little spot between your pussy and your butt. Your breathing becomes really deep, and with every breath you make little moaning sounds. I slide a single finger into you and continue to rub your clitoris with my thumb. As I twiddle you like that with my right hand, my left is massaging your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs. Your nipples are so swollen, they look as if they might burst.

Your orgasm surprises you. You didn’t think you were quite ready yet, Marianna, but it would not be denied. It courses through you quickly and fiercely. Like waves crashing onto the beach, it just keeps coming and coming. It starts as a little whimper in the back of your throat and builds until you scream, “Oh, God, yes! Yes! That’s it!” You couldn’t stop if you tried. You don’t want to stop. Your back arches and you scream and you moan for what seems like forever. Your body is on fire. You can’t catch your breath. This is the most intense feeling you’ve ever had in your life.

Eventually, it begins to fade. When you settle back down on the bed, your body is a quivering mass of desire. Your heart begins to slow back down to normal, but it’s still pounding in your chest. One of my hands is stroking the outside of your leg. The other is still on your pussy, but hardly touching you at all, hardly moving at all. I begin to take it away. You can’t find your voice, but you manage to gasp, “No, don’t stop.”

I lie down beside you, hold you close to me, and kiss you. Your clitoris and labia are swollen and tender. Just the slightest touch sends little bolts of electricity shooting through you. You guide my hand back onto you, and show me just how to touch you. My hand covers your pussy, and you move my hand around in tiny little circles, press it firmly against you, and have another orgasm. This one is different from the first. It is way down deep inside you someplace. It is easy and comfortable and quiet and slow, like a lover’s orgasm. Not as intense as the first, maybe not even a real orgasm at all, but infinitely more intimate.

I roll over on top of you, take your head in my hands, and kiss you. I kiss your lips, your eyes, your ears, your neck. You guide me down to your breasts. I hold them in my hands and kiss them. I kiss and lick them all over, and gently suck on your nipples. My penis is hard and it presses against you. You move beneath me and arch your back slightly, making little pleasure sounds.

I work my way down, kiss you all over, and start running my tongue around the outside of your pussy and the inside of your thighs. I flick the very tip of my tongue on and around your clitoris. I lick your labia, and gently slide my tongue in and out of you. Your hands are on my head, and you’re guiding me back and forth to just the right spot. Your breathing becomes heavy again, as you move around under my tongue. I suck on your clitoris and caress it with my tongue until you have another orgasm. You scream and moan, “Oh, God! Right there!” I keep licking and sucking, even when your toes curl up and every muscle in your body seems to contract.

As your orgasm begins to wind down, I lower you back onto the bed and continue to lick you very softly. You fall back, limp, onto the bed, murmuring, “Oh, my God!”

I am so incredibly turned on that I think I might explode. I haven’t been this hard since I was a teenager. As I lie on top of you, you open your legs, pull me to you, and say, “I want you inside me.”

I slide in just as if I’ve been there a hundred times before. You are so smooth and soft, so silky and warm inside, that I’m sure that I’ve just died and gone to heaven. You wrap your legs around my back. I hold you to me and kiss you. We fit together as if we were born that way. I start moving back and forth inside you, slowly at first, but I can’t help myself and soon I’m moving faster and faster. You’re moaning again, and the headboard is banging against the wall. You’re guiding me back and forth with your legs. Then it’s my turn to scream. I come inside you, using every ounce of energy that I have left.

Marianna, I’ve gone soft now, but I’m still on top of you and I’m still inside you. I hold you and kiss you and tell you I love you, that I have always loved you and always will. We are covered in sweat and the bed is drenched, but it doesn’t matter. I lie there, holding you, kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck. No words are spoken. No words could begin to do justice to the moment.

And then, as we lie there, I start to worry about tomorrow. The morning will be kind of awkward. We’re supposed to be friends, not lovers. We promised ourselves that we wouldn’t do this, that we wouldn’t let love ruin a perfectly good friendship. We’ll get up in the morning and shower, and I’ll make us a huge breakfast. We’ll talk about it. We don’t have to go to work, so we can talk about it all day if that’s what it takes. Then I decide not to worry about it. Our friendship is strong. We’ll work it out. We always do.