Anne shivered as the warm lips kissed their way up her leg. Strong hands gripped each thigh, forcing her legs to stay wide open. Her leg quivered where it rested on the muscular back of her lover. Her back arched up as the lips teased closer and closer to her soping wet center.

"Please," came her soft voice, begging for the lips to make their way to where she wanted them most. A soft chuckle came from between her legs.

"As you wish," came a familiar, sultry male voice. Before she could even prepare herself, the assault began and she squealed, hands gripping the sheets around her.

The warm tongue licked all the way up her slit before settling it's attention between her folds. He was insistent, wet tongue flicked back and forth on her tight little bead deliciously, sending vibrations through her whole body. The noises escaped her, completely out of her control.

She felt pressure begin to build within her and her body began to quake. Her legs were now wide open by her own accord. In an effort to press her sex into the wet pressure, she had flattened her legs wide open and thrust her pelvis right up into the eager mouth. The man never slowed; his tongue increasing in pressure and speed.

Suddenly a calloused hand gripped her breast firmly and she cried out as her nipple peaked, rock hard. She grew frantic under the unfaltering attention to her throbbing clit as well as the fingers now rubbing and pinching her nipple.

She thrashed on the bed, moans growing louder as the pressure built within her and she ground up into the warm mouth ravaging her pussy with abandon. Suddenly the hand not rolling her nipple moved from her thight and one firm finger dove inside her. She screeched at the sensition and her walls clenched around the digit. As he kept up his magical licking punctuated but his lips closing around her clit and giving it a soft suck, the finger now buried in her canal moving slowly in and out.

Close to climax and writhing in complete abanadon, Anne's moans grew louder and higher in pitch and her back arched up off the bed as she ground down against the pressure. When the dam inside her finally broke, she would have screamed but it seemed there was no air in her lungs as she rode the waves of pleasure. She finally came back to reality, realizing exactly what had transpired and relxed her body back against the bed.

With one final slow lick to her red hot core, the head of her lover rose from between her thighs. The face wearing a satisfied smirk, glistening with her own juices, was none other than her closest friend, Gilbert Blythe.

It was then that Anne woke with a start. Her mind was racing and she could not understand how on Earth she could be dreaming such a thing about her best friend. As surprised as she was about the subject of her very erotic dream, she couldn't help but still feel warm inside. While she was mildly appalled that her brain had conjured up such a thing she couldn't exactly find it within her to be disgusted by the fact that she had in fact had a sex dream that involved Gilbert Blythe, her old friend, the competitor of her childhood and the once subject of her extremest anger. After all, he was exceptionally handsome. Anyone with eyes knew that.

She laid in bed, breathing hard and still reeling from a waking from such a dream and realizing that she was a little bit sweaty in the heat of the June night. She could feel the wet juices between her legs; she was the most turned on she had ever been in her young life. While she was not as naive as some ladies about her own pleasure, she had never really felt like it was a good habit. On occasion, when she grew desperate. she would slip a few fingers into her underwear in the dark of the night and massage herself to a climax. She had heard talk amoung the girls of such things and even of gentleman using their fingers to please a lady in the shadows of a dark dance but never had gotten close to such things herself. Even more, when she had heard a few girls talking about the experience of a man using his lips and tongue in a woman's most private place, but she had found the notion strange.

Now, after that exquisite dream, she could not think such a thing was strange. Now all she wanted to do was find a man to shove between her thighs until she felt the kind of climax her dreaming mind had conjured. As she lay, lightly heaving and still aroused in her bed alone, she could not help but slide her own hand into her folds to release the pressure. As she rolled her clit between her moistened fingers, she could not keep the thoughts from her mind. As her own hand massaged and rubbed toward a climax, her eyes closed and she imagined a large tan hand was in its place. Not just any hand, the hand of one Gilbert Blythe. She fell apart, orgasming while her mind mind filled with images of her handsome friend doing the most sinful things to her aching body.

Now fully spent, utterly confused, wide awake and feeling decidedly restless, Anne rose from her bed and headed downstairs for some water. As she sat in her kitchen in the dead of the night, her mind raced through what had transpired. She had had a sex dream about her best friend. Even just the thought sent a spasm through her core. She had pleasured herself to the thought of her best friend. And the weirdest thing was, she did not feel ashamed.

Anne thought about her years of friendship with Gilbert. Once rivals, their friendship had grown quickly and firmly. Once she had let go of her silly grudge, Gilbert had become a true kindred spirit. She had some conversations with him she couldn't even have with Diana. As they grew up into teenagers, now fast friends, she had started to notice how her stomach would do little flip flops when Gilbert came around. She had never thought anything of it because she just assumed, with her overactive 16 year old imagination, that it was the sign of kindred spirits. He had always made her feel safe and cherished. He listened to her dreams and encouraged her incessantly. He challenged her to be her best. She had been drawn to him like a magnet. Whether arguing or laughing, she had felt pulled to be with him as much as possible.

Now older and wiser, 21 year old Anne recognized those fluttering feelings for what they truly were: attraction. She was attracted to her closest friend and hadn't even realized it. She had always taken objective notice of Gilbert's looks. He was tall and strong, years of farm work had strengthened his lanky frame and college football had defined his muscles exquisitely. His chocolate curls, always unruly, had not changed but his discovery of pomade during their time at Queens had led to him wearing them in a more confined style which made him look older and no less handsome. Though, if Anne were honest, she preferred his loose, wild curls. Gilbert had always been quick to smile, his straight white teeth as perfect as the rest of him; his easygoing and generally affable personality was quite opposite of hers. However, she always seemed to be able to bring out his argumentive side out loud and clear. The other thing she brought out in Gilbert was his smirk, reserved for moments where he knew he had the best of her or just when he was up for some good teasing. Gilbert's most defining quality, at least to her, was his hazel eyes. He could speak volumes with just a simple look and his eyes were unfailingly kind. When she looked closely, she could even make out flecks of gold in the murky depths of his eyes.

When Anne thought through it, she never questioned why he was Avonleas golden boy and why the girls of Redmond had been trying to snare him for 3 years now. He was handsome and kind, smart and hardworking, charming and polite. What she questioned now was why these thoughts were coming out now. She had always known him to be handsome but she had never thought about him in a desiring way. Not like tonight. And now it was all she could think about.

Anne shook herself from these thoughts. Here she was, in the middle of the night, dissecting her and Gilbert back to the beginning and outright desiring him. She looked at the clock on the wall: 5am. With no reason to go back to bed before church, Anne added the curling iron to the stove beside the kettle. She might as well spend her hours before church perfecting her curling technique. She had never been able to do it like Phil but she could try and think how nice her hair would look for church.

A few hours later, Anne was making her way through the quiet streets toward the beautiful brick church she attended in the city. She had successfully curled her hair and pinned the upper strands back away from her face. She had selected her favorite dress, an elegant yet simple dress of blue-green muslin. She was feeling much calmer now hours removed from her dream and early morning thoughts.

As she approached the church, she saw Gilbert waiting for her by the stairs, like he had each Sunday since the girls had gone home for the summer and she had begun attending alone. She could not help but notice how fine a figure he cut, filling out every inch of his navy blue suit not to mention those dark curls and bright eyes now focused on her as he smiled in her direction. She made her way over to him, now feeling a little nervous in the presence of the very person whom had starred in her dream. Gilbert seemed as cheerful and amenable as ever as he greeted her.

"Good morning Anne. You look well this morning."

"Morning Gil. Shall we?" She replied in a hurry, trying not to let her slight nerves show. Together, the walked toward the doors of the church. Out of the corner of her eye, Anne could see Gilbert look her up and down inconspicuously, his eyes dark. She could not help but feel a little bit smug that her extra time spent on her appearance this morning seemed to be noticed by her old friend.

The church in in Kingsport was more relaxed than the small one in Avonlea. Because so many students were in town, away from family, the pews were first come first serve each Sunday and rarely did anyone sit in the same place. Further, no one thought it strange for young people to sit together, even young men and young women.

Ever since arriving for school, Gilbert had regularly attended church with Anne and her friends. Sometimes Moody joined them as well, but he had found a church on the other side of town he preferred most Sunday's. The owners of Gilbert's boarding house were Catholic so they attended the local mass along with most of his other roommates. So, each Sunday Gilbert sat beside her in the pew of the pretty brick church. Unlike in Avonlea, the people of Kingsport did not assume engagement merely because of where the young people chose to sit each Sunday and for that Anne was grateful.

They squeezed into the end of a pew in the center of the church. Always friendly, Gilbert made small talk with the young father of two sitting beside them. While he was distracted, Anne tried to gather her thoughts. The pew was quite full and they had to sit pressed close to each other to fit. His thigh was pressed against hers and through her dress layers, she could feel the warmth that radiated from him. As she looked down at the strong tan hand resting easily on his own knee, her mind began to drift back to her dream before she could stop it. She had to force herself away from those thoughts with a little shake of her head.

Ever observant, Gilbert noticed and looked at her concerned,

"Everything okay Anne? You look a little flushed. Are you too warm?" He asked, the concern of a future doctor present in his voice.

"Fine Gil. It's just a touch warm in here but I'll be just fine," she replied as nonchalantly as she could, hoping her voice did not betray her.

"Let me know if that changes. I can walk you home if you need me to," he replied, still glancing at her with concern. She was uncomfortable under his caring gaze, with his warm body so close to hers. She felt a bit of heat pooling in her center because of it and she wanted to slap herself.

"Don't worry Gil, I'll be just fine," she replied, trying desperately to keep her voice even. His concerned eyes still searched hers and she could see those tiny flecks of gold. She had to tear her eyes away and forced herself to look toward the front of the church. She desperately tried to collect her thoughts and cool her body.

Anne Shirley could not believe she was sitting in church, lusting after her closest friend simply because he was sitting next to her, after waking up this morning from an erotic dream about said friend which she then used as motivation to pleasure herself to a climax. She was going straight to hell.