For Emmy's Picspirations! On the Perv Pack Smut Shack blog. If you haven't been reading it, go, shoo, read, now. It's AWESOME.

Oh, yes, and for those of you who read my other Picspiration story, Looking at You, I had a moron moment and deleted it by accident while trying to post this as a second chapter. It is lost =(

God, I wanted her. I've wanted her for so fucking long sometimes I think I'll go insane with it. But then my rational mind takes over, the part of me that made me stifle these feelings originally, the part of me that made me marry my husband.

Look how well that turned out.

It was always her, ever since we met. Her personality was one that would turn off most people; but with me, she was funny and caring and perfect under that cold exterior that she put on for the world. Men were attracted to her and most women hated her; stupid jealous bitches. But I was different. Instead of making me feel inferior, my best friend always built me up, always made me feel like I was more than enough.

That was before I met him, before I changed myself to fit in, to not disappoint my parents and the expectations of others who thought they were encouraging me in the right direction.

I remember the first time I realized I thought that women were equally as magnetic as men. There was this girl I'd met at the library, a new transfer student named Leah. My best friend, and roommate, was away for a rare weekend, visiting her brother. So, when Leah asked if I wanted to get coffee and talk some more, I did something I had never done before: I invited her back to my dorm. We'd barely made it through the door before her lips were on mine, and it was thrilling, so I went with it.

Before I knew it, I was flat on my back, bare-breasted with Leah holding herself above me. She wetly kissed down my jaw, my neck, as I turned my head to the side and shivered with pleasure. It was raining outside, and I saw our reflection in my curtain-less window, waves of water giving the picture a ghostly quality.

Then I saw the picture of my best friend, framed on my desk. She was sitting at our favorite café, and I had just snapped the candid shot as she turned to look at me. Her pale blonde hair swirled around her angular face messily, and her naturally deep coral lips were pursed as she looked at me. It wasn't a good picture of her, but even with that her beauty stunned me.

Before I knew it, as Leah began worshipping the softest, wettest place on my body with her mouth, my best friend had replaced her in my mind. It wasn't Leah's silky-straight dark hair that I ran my hands through; it was blonde waves instead. Just before she brought my world crashing down around me, Leah looked up at me, but it was her bright blue eyes I saw instead. My real desires superimposed themselves over my present moment as I lost myself in feeling.

I burst into tears after that and sent Leah away like an unbalanced bitch.

My best friend walked in ten minutes later. Right away, she dropped her bags and came over to my bed. Without saying a word, she held me as I cried into her, smelling her bergamot perfume and loving the feel of her arms around me.

When I'd calmed down, she asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

That was so like her. Not "what's wrong" or any negative, pushy response. Just "what I can do to help"?

I said, "Nothing, Rose. You've already helped."

I wish I had told her the truth. I still want her. And I know what I wish I had known then…

I love her.