What's worse? Being two hundred miles away from someone you want to be naughty with or living in the flat next door to them?

For me, it happens to be the latter.

Sometimes in the evening, we sit on our respective sofas and send messages to each other using WhatsApp. Not your normal messages, the ones we send generally contain more than one explicit image of us masturbating or doing something with our pussies or tits. The interchange can get steamy, but it’s all talk to get us riled up for the next masturbation session.

It always makes me smile because I normally sit on the sofa with my husband in the chair to one side of me. Both of us watching TV and commenting on whatever programme we are watching. But while he's playing games on his phone, I’m sexting my friend next door.

We start by telling each other how fucking horny we are and then it usually degenerates quite rapidly after that. We often tease and challenge each other. I know she's doing the same next door with her husband, we're probably watching the same TV show too.

The hardest part is keeping the smiles off our faces. More than once now, my husband has commented on why I’ve had a big grin on my face. Well, it's simply because she has told me to pinch my nipple which I’ve managed to do. I end up smiling to myself while letting her know I’ve done it and pushing a dare back in her direction.

We can chat like this for ages, but eventually, it gets too much for us and we have to do something about it. There's only so much teasing anyone can take and when your wank buddy is only a few feet away on the other side of a wall, then it’s torture.

She's just told me how wet her pussy is. That kind of statement doesn't help matters. Apparently, she had put her hand between her legs with her husband watching her and slipped her finger along her slit. She'd told him how wet she was and then she sent me the message telling me what she did.

The sad thing is that her husband didn't care whether she was wet or not. Well, fuck, I do care, and I want to watch her wank herself silly until she screams. It’s making me so wet just thinking about it. Five feet is the total distance between our sofas. We worked it out one evening.  Her sofa backs onto the same wall. Next to our lounges are the bathroom and toilets with the bedrooms separate, for obvious reasons.

Before now, we've agreed to go to the loo together and rub one out while listening to the moans from next door. That was so horny. We've even used WhatsApp video calls and watched each other masturbate while sitting on the loo. Once, her husband barged in on her while we were doing just that and was disgusted at her rubbing one out on the toilet seat. He didn't realise I was on the other side of that call. We were so lucky he didn't bother to look at the phone that was propped up on the stool that was against the far wall. Because she was occupying the toilet, rather embarrassingly as it happened, I watched him take a piss in the sink. I can't say it was sexy because it wasn't. And before you ask, no, he wasn't well-endowed either.

I feel sorry for her, at least my husband has got a sizeable cock. But then she doesn't need him when she's got me, does she?

We've even done it in bed together. Not in one bed, not together, but in our own bedrooms, at night, while our husbands are asleep.

I know what you're thinking, we live next door to each other and we've never been at each other's pussies in the same bed, or licked pussy on the same sofa, or across the kitchen table.

Well, we haven't.

It’s because we met on a website called CumTogether, a contact site for people who like to masturbate. It was only after one of our clandestine sessions in the loo, on that fateful afternoon, that we realised we lived next to each other. We could clearly hear each other orgasm, both on the phone and in real life. It’s quite surreal to hear the same orgasm from two different perspectives. You should try it.

Anyway, like I was saying, while our husbands were asleep one night, we turned on our phones under the bed. It was so erotic. So risky.

All that excitement came from the fact that we could hear each other moan and groan on the phone. Every murmur, every moan, every sigh just made us hornier and more desperate to get ourselves off.

I for one, couldn't believe the intensity of my orgasm and she told me that she felt the same. It has to be tried again but so far we haven't managed to take the time for it. Husbands can be so cruel sometimes, especially when you think they've gone to sleep only for them to wake up, turn over and cuddle into you.

Don’t get me wrong, having their cock tight against your ass is nice but not when your wank-buddy is on the phone to you. You can't even warn her when she moans and there's only one option and that is to hang up. But that's men for you.

We have met for a coffee. Once.

Costa coffee is just around the corner from where we live. We decided that we'd spend thirty minutes getting to know each other after work one evening. Our husbands were none the wiser and we chatted like we were long lost friends. It was such a relief that we got on so well, especially after all that we had done on the phone.

But that's the crux of the problem, isn't it? You see, we're not lesbians. Not really. We just love the sound of another woman having a satisfying orgasm. I mean who doesn't? I for one, love seeing the look on a woman's face when she cums. I just do. I can't help that.  And sometimes, seeing the way they plough their pussy with their fingers or circle their clitoris is such a fucking turn on and it gives the other person ideas about what to try.

I don’t know if I’d want to do it with her, though. I don’t think I’d want to lick her pussy and bring her off that way. At least, I don’t think I would want to do that. I’m quite happy wanking in front of her. Truth be told, we've never discussed it, so I don't know what she thinks of that ever happening.

I’m starting to wonder now whether she would like it to happen? Whether she'd like to spread my legs with her hands and let her head dip between my thighs, tongue extended in anticipation until it meets my wet sex and she flicks it over my juicy slit.

Fuck, that thought is turning me on. I look across at my husband and he’s focused firmly on the football. I’ve just sent that same thought. Told her what I'm thinking with just five feet between us and told her how turned on I got thinking about it.

She's taking ages to reply. Normally, she'd be taking less than a second but at the moment there's nothing. Not a dicky bird. Perhaps her husband is giving her a quickie on the sofa. Lucky bugger. I’ve just messaged her to see if she's there, saying sorry for my last text and telling her not to worry. I told her I was joking. Which I am, kind of.

I look at my husband to see if he's going to answer the door but he's staying put. I get up from the sofa and tell him to his face that he's a lazy fucker, to which he responds that he's watching the football. What a twat he can be sometimes.

I answer the door not knowing who to expect at this time of night. I just hope it’s not my mum,  I’ve had enough of her problems this week.

I see Rebecca looking straight at me. She doesn't say anything at all. Just stares at me. I suddenly realise why she's looking at me in that way. She wants me. I can tell. My heart quickens and my hands start shaking. I don’t know what to do? How to respond? What should I say? Fuck, I’m a mess. My mouth opens to tell her that I made a mistake but she takes my hand and pulls me through the door and down the corridor. We enter her flat and I’m in a quandary. I seem to be pulling back against her but in all honesty, it is futile, she’s so strong.

“Becky,” I tell her, “what the fuck are you doing?”

She says nothing but keeps dragging me into her flat.

“Where’s your husband?” I ask.

“Watching footie down the pub,” she says. It's the first words that have come out of her mouth since she stood outside my door.

We enter the bedroom. I’m still being pulled by my outstretched hand. She spins me around and pushes me onto the bed. Her hands grasp my tracksuit bottoms and they come off in one swift movement; pulled down my legs and discarded. She knows there will be no knickers, we never wear any underwear when we’re sexting.

I scramble up the bed, dragging my naked cunt after me. My T-shirt just covering my tits that are wobbling like fuck. I stop when I reach the headboard. All I can do is look at her horny face as she stares at my pussy. Her eyes flick onto mine momentarily.

Fuck it. I open my legs while telling myself I’m not a lesbian – yet!

Becky drops onto the bed, places her hands on my thighs and pushed them wider. Her mouth drops to the bed and I can see her extended tongue launch at me. Her intentions are quite clear and they’ve inflamed my sensibility, pushing it to one side in favour of…

My lips quiver and I watch her dip her tongue onto my pussy; letting it navigate the channel of my slit, prising it apart with the side-to-side motions of her tongue before sinking it into my cunt.

Fuck, it feels so wonderful. The act of watching her do that starts all kinds of fires in my soul. I feel like my whole world is crashing down around me and something more beautiful is rising from the ashes. The passion with which she devours my cunt is pure bliss. I can feel every swipe of her tongue, every brush of her lips and then her mouth clasps onto my clit, sending shivers through my aching, needy body.

I cannot help my actions as my hand clasps onto the back of her head and before she knows it I’ve pulled her lesbian mouth into my aching cunt. Well, I don’t know she has a lesbian mouth but I’m presuming by the way she’s using her tongue that this isn’t the first time she’s found herself in this position. I could be wrong.

I cannot believe the words that came out of my mouth. “Eat it, you fucking lessie. Eat my soaking cunt.”

And she did eat it. She fucking devoured it, and when I was left jerking on the bed from what seemed like three orgasms in a row, she sat up, knelt on the bed and asked me if I wanted a coffee.

Coffee?

As I said, I’m not a lesbian, but what she did to me was overwhelmingly outstanding and in my book, favours like that need to be returned.

“Of course I want coffee,” I said.

She started to move but I grabbed her and pushed her backwards. Her dress flipped over her tummy and her smooth pussy with its pink slit winked at me. My mouth was on it before she had a chance to even smile. I returned the favour in kind. Three favours in fact.

While we drank our coffee, I wondered whether I was a lesbian after all. I didn't say anything to Becky about my thoughts, especially as she pulled me in for a sensitive yet cautious kiss as we sat on the high stools at the breakfast bar. My first wild kiss with another woman was heaven. I could feel my nipples stiffen and my pussy begin to throb.

“I’ve been dying to do that to you for so long, and I know I overstepped the mark, but that message just drove me wild with lust,” she told me.

“So, what next?” I couldn’t tell her that I was joking and after what had happened I didn’t want to.  

She was about to speak when her husband returned from the pub. Slightly inebriated and worse for wear. He managed to say hello to me and squeeze his wife’s ass. I do believe he’s expecting sex as soon as I leave and so I quickly finished my coffee and head for the door. The awkwardness of the situation suddenly got to me. I told Becky I’d see her the next day.

When I returned to my flat, my husband had managed to switch the TV off all by himself and was about to go to bed. All I got was, “Where the fuck did you get to?”

So I told him. Not the truth, the lie. I did mention the coffee; he would have tasted that on my lips anyway. Not that we were about to get amorous or anything like that.

That night, as my husband dozed next to me, I picked up my phone and messaged her.

The taste of your pussy is still on my lips...

Her reply was swift.

I know, I can't bring myself to wash my face. Couldn’t even bring myself to give the old man a blowjob. He had to fuck me from behind. Didn’t take long.

A beaming smile spread across my lips. I wanted to get out of bed and knock on her door. I told her so. She told me to do it and that she’d meet me in the hallway. I chickened out, but deep down, I knew that our masturbation sessions were drawing to a close.

The end of an era. Not that I was complaining. In fact, I was all smiles.