She had a very pretty mouth, very soft and tender. That's the very same mouth she said her vows with, about 20 years ago in a church, on her wedding day. That's the mouth with which she used to kiss her kids good night, the mouth with which she would sing hymns almost every Sunday at mass.

Her husband did nothing wrong, he did what he thought was right, what he thought she really needed. A typical man, he provided for her, he stood up for her when necessary to defend her honor, he caressed her and showed her his care, he covered her with a blanket when she was napping, and took her out dancing with friends, and traveled with her...

And then she met me. And everything changed. I was 29 and she was 42, and we became close friends. Both her kids in college, her lonely husband would worry until she arrived. Cooking for himself, feeling alone. Upon returning she would immediately shower, her face and clothes still smelling of me, so he wouldn't notice anything.

Most times we had done it in the car, my car, a caravan with a convertible back seat. If it was a weekend, she would come to my place, but on weekdays I would drive her after work, park in a special spot near a forest far outside the city, and we would enjoy each other, or better said, I would enjoy how she enjoyed me.

I am not gay, I never intended to do this, I did not take the first step with her. She came to me confessing her love, saying she thought about me all the time... I merely allowed her to express her feelings for me. Plus, those were the days when I was in the middle of a really toxic break-up with an ex-boyfriend, and experimenting didn't sound so bad to me anyhow.

She said something like: "You have no idea how much I admire you... You are so much better than me in every way... so beautiful, smart, independent... You are your own woman. I'm so sorry to trouble you with this."

I responded that time by caressing her hair and looking kindly into her eyes. I didn't mind her compliments, in fact I enjoyed them very much. I was her best friend, but my ego was boosted as I realized how much power I had over her vulnerable little heart, and I guess from then on I only thought of myself and my own selfish desire to be idolized.

I remember she continued with something like: "I am willing to do anything to you to prove to you that I'm telling the truth... to show you how much I admire you..." 

She said a lot of other things like this in the while after that, as I listened to her and observed her pretty little mouth as it spoke those sweet words to me. Needless to say, a few minutes later I was lying comfortably back on the seat, letting her kiss my right foot, shoe and all, her eyes half closed as she kissed and kissed and kissed again.  

I was amused by her mouth, that soft mouth of hers, and where it had ended up, gone from whispering innocent prayers every night at this same time of day, to kissing the dust off her best friend's soles with it instead, worshipping a divine woman, her new Goddess, worshipping Me, as her heart probably beat at 1000mph with nervousness...

That first time I had her only kiss my feet and massage them, then I drove her home. From then onwards, I always allowed her to kiss my feet as long as she wanted, and she usually did it for a good half hour. She always started with my shoes and kissed them with a lot of feeling. Then when she kissed my naked feet I always realized how very pleased I was with how our friendship had changed, and how she had given herself to me as some sort of submissive pathetic friend who would suddenly do anything for me.

I understood that she had realized she was a lesbian, but soon I let her do what she wanted, as long as she did not try to kiss my neck or my mouth. That was off limits and I made that clear. So she kissed my feet, then up my legs, and I could feel her love for me with every kiss she gave me, with every touch of her mouth on my skin.

Those days I started wearing skirts and dresses again instead of my usual pant suit or jeans, and I exchanged my leggings for stay-up stockings, or mostly no stockings at all. I did this to make it easier for her to kiss my inner thigh and then my crotch, which was always what she eventually wanted to do.

But I made sure my crotch was always sheltered behind underwear (I never go naked down there anyway in my daily routine), and I insisted on keeping my panties on, even though it visibly annoyed her.

When she finished kissing my inner thighs I would not let her, as is still the case with other women, kiss my vagina directly. I left the panties on for her, honestly out of fear of ever enjoying direct oral contact and becoming a lesbian myself. However, I also did this to tease her, and told her that one day she might earn the direct contact she wanted if she licked my panties well with her mouth.

This also gave me more power over her and made me feel in charge. She was compliant though and, despite her subtle disappointment, I could see she still enjoyed putting her mouth, her pretty little mouth, on the fabric of my panties and soaking it up with her kisses and licks.

Every kiss, every lick, every twist of her tongue on the silken, satin, lychra or cotton fabric was always full of passion and worship of Me, full of her admiration, I could feel it. We did this at least three times every month for about 8 months, and the few times I wore lace panties for her was when I was annoyed with her for any reason or just in a bad mood, and I wanted her to scrape her tongue against the lace until it was sore.

She was so in love with me, she always obeyed and only complained once about the lace, as far as I can remember. Her tongue was always sore when we finished, no matter the fabric type of my underwear, and her pretty little mouth was always bright red with soreness when she said goodbye.

In my experimenting straight disposition I often questioned my sexuality when she made me gasp or even moan from her licks, which became increasingly frequent as she got to know my body better. From early on she would beg to worship my back side as well, before I drove her home, so I would put my elbows on the backrest of the seat as her pretty little mouth would kiss, lick, suck on my very superior and divine ass-cheeks and I would enjoy it a lot, often giggling from the ticklishness from the sensation (I'm ticklish back there).

After that, she would lick and kiss my anus through the fabric, sometimes at my request but mostly on her own accord. She did this with such enjoyment that every time I arrived home afterwards I felt that cold, wet sensation of soaking underwear, between the top of my tushy crack, all underneath me up to the cloth over my upper pubic hair.

In other words, that beautiful, soft little mouth of hers always licked my panties completely clean, back, front, and underneath me.  Every time I came back home from meeting her I immediately put my panties to soak in the sink, since usually they weren't only wet with her saliva and my juices, but also smeared with her lipstick.

She was amazing, and the panties thing made her develop a very naughty fetish. Often she asked me to wear the panties for several days before we met so she had "more work to do" with her tongue, and sent me a wink when she messaged this to me. I only did this twice as a friendly gesture, I hate wearing underwear that isn't fresh, but those two times she ate my underwear with a hunger that amazed me and filled me with vertigo.

Overall I enjoyed being worshipped by her like that, treated like such a goddess, but I'm proud to say I never developed lesbian feelings for her or kissed her pretty little mouth, although sometimes I wonder what it would have been like and I wish I had.

We stopped seeing each other after the time I let her pull my panties aside and eat me out directly. The pleasure was insurmountable and I had an amazing orgasm, one of the best in my whole life! So much so, that I got scared, I stopped calling her, and began to ignore her calls. We spoke only once after that, one week later, and I asked her not to see me anymore and find another carpool ride home.

We never even said goodbye formally, but I know she understood my reasons and my fear of becoming gay.

I promised myself I would never do something like this again. But I was lying to myself. A goddess like me needs to be worshipped, and she will always find someone willing to give her the worshipping she demands.