This is the latest tale that I have to tell. It occurred much more recent than the other two, and pressure in the Bi room here in Literotica chat has forced me to concentrate my mind and submit the story whist it is fresh in my mind. As with the other two, it is a true account, and with the exception of changing the names and personal details for anonyminity, I have kept the tale as true as possible.
I first met Christina some two years ago when she moved into the flat immediately above mine. Turkish of origin; she is of average height with a dark olive complexion, and dark eyes. Her soft silky hair is a dark brown, and extends past her slender shoulders, almost reaching her bra strap. Whilst she is slender, she certainly has curves, though she cannot be larger than an A cup, though they are rather pert, and uplifting. She was 16 when she moved in, and does not seem to have grown/changed in the time that I have known her. Whilst she is not the most pretty of girls, she has an attractive streak, and together with a cute, naive charm, she will turn heads as she grows and matures.
For most of the time, we have been neighbors, passing in the communal stairwell, being polite but nothing further. The family kept them selves to themselves, though I never saw a 'father ' figure, though I never gave it much thought. Whilst she is now 18, she can come across as being mature for her age, more responsible than you would imagine for an 18 year old. However, she sometimes acts younger than for her age, especially when dealing with people on a more social basis. It transpired that she does not have a father. Consequently as she speaks the best English in her family, she has become the spokesperson for her mother, dealing with the various items that our bureaucratic country demands of its residents.
Last autumn however a couple of events took place that changed my perspective of Christina, and her family. Firstly, in October, it was Christina's 18th Birthday party. Even now, though she is 18, I still think of her as younger, why I'm not sure, though it is possibly linked to the fact that she does not seem to have grown/aged since I met her. As her party approached, she invited Adrian and I to attend, partly because she was being considerate, but also as a noise issue, by inviting us, it would be harder for us to complain about the noise, though that weekend I stayed at Adrian's flat south of the river.
The second event, and the more critical one was the moving in of what soon became apparent as a trouble tenant. These tenants quickly showed a love/hate relationship; frequently having arguments that generally would leave the confines of their flat. In particular, she runs up and down the stairwell, crying, shouting, and knocking on the doors of other residents to call the police, making claims of physical abuse. Yet the following morning they would be all over each other. I often wonder if drugs or alcohol are involved!
After one such event, there was a knock on my door. It was Christina, looking somewhat worried; I invited her in for a chat. We spoke at great length, as I learned about her history, and her concern, together with her Mother, over the safety of her younger sisters if they should be in the hallway during one of the arguments. She finally left, the two of us agreeing to seek the support of the other residents to see if we could get these troublesome tenants evicted.
Over the next few weeks, with Christmas approaching, I saw more of her, her long dark hair, her olive complexion, her sensual lips, her firm curves. As I saw more of her, and meet her, understand her, I started to look at her, in a different light, through a sexual angle. Here now is where the story sort of begins, but with out the background, the story is kind of lost, the build up to it is as almost important as the events that now follow.
I had just finished doing the usual domestic chores on that chilly Sunday back in early January. Adrian had left at lunchtime, allowing me to do the domestics before a busy week at work. Having made a fresh jug of filter coffee, I was listening to a CD and reading a magazine when I heard the beginning of a commotion in the hallway. After ten minutes or so, I was becoming rather annoyed with the noise, so I approached the front door expecting to find the usual two having another domestic.
So imagine my surprise up on opening my door to see Christina, shouting, in tears at her older boyfriend.
"Excuse me but can you keep the noise down" I snapped, "And you Christina, should know better with the complaints you have been making."
Up on seeing me, her boyfriend just turned, and left, leaving Christina in a frightful state in the hallway. Sensing she was not in a fit state to face her family, I approached her, wrapped my arm around her shoulder in comfort, and invited her in for coffee, almost pulling her in before either of us had realized.
Soon she was sitting on the sofa, cup of coffee in her hands as I placed my arm around her shoulder, comforting her, allowing her to regain her composure. Not forcing any conversation on her, I just leant back into the sofa.
"Thanks" she quietly whispered.
Finally, she started to talk, as she explained about her argument with her boyfriend, about something relatively trivial, I cannot recall what. But as she spoke, it became apparent that their relationship was going through a bad patch. As she spoke, it became apparent that he was being somewhat mean, she seemed to be losing self-confidence, she was always putting her self down.
I held her, the mellow music still playing in the background. Her head was resting on my shoulder, my fingers gently stroking her curly hair.
"Are all men bastards?" she asked, her voice was soft, free from any obvious aggression.
"Very possibly, most men can have a bad streak but well your boyfriend comes across as sounding bad, especially if he was always putting you down. But then the next moment he wants to have sex with you, I can't work that one out."
She remained quiet for a while.
"It seems that he is trying to come across that he is doing me a favor, that he is prepared to have sex with me, when other men don’t' but…. But"
She stopped in mid sentence for a minute or two, before continuing
"But I am not ready for sex, and certainly not with him."
"Go with your feelings Christina." I replied, talking softly. You will know when you’re ready with the person. But you will have a trust for the person, a trust that they want to pleasure you because of you, and not for their ego."
The conversation went quiet again, as I still gently hugged her, consoled her.
"But why am I so ugly?" she asked.
"You're not ugly, do not listen to him, and just forget him."
"But I am, a lot of my friend are better looking than me" she stuttered
I gently cupped her cheeks with my fingers as I looked across into her deep brown eyes.
"Listen carefully," I started, “true you may not be as pretty as some of the pop stars or supermodels, but you are pretty, please take my word for it. You have a sweet smile, a lovely golden complexion, and well rather cute too." I giggled softly as I said the last bit.
"Please stop being nice, and tell me the truth, which is that I am an ugly little girl"
"Nonsense Christina, please forget what ever crap he told you, and listen to those who know you, care for you. You are a pretty little girl, and well I can prove it." My mind stuttered, wondering did I really say that. Suddenly I felt my heartbeats, pounding through my arteries, as I gulped slightly, my mind suddenly in turmoil.
"Prove it? What do you mean? What can you prove?"
I looked into her eyes, not really sure what was going on, it felt as if my conscious and sub-conscious were battling over something, but what I wasn't really sure, until….
My fingers gently stroked her cheeks as they held her, gently. I closed my eyes, as I moved in close to her, feeling my lips part, my breathing quickened, as I felt my tongue run along her lips. She did not move, she just allowed me to kiss her lips gently, my tongue running over her, tasting her lipstick, gently sucking on her lower lip. She did not respond, but niether did she pull away. Slowly I broke the kiss, and looked at her, noting she was blushing.
"Oh my" was all I could say, as the realization of what I had just done hit me. My breathing was fast, and light, almost panting, as my blood flowed through my arteries, my heart thumping a mile a minute; working out who was shocked the most. Was it Christina, who was the focus of the kiss, or was it myself, for having been so bold, on the spur of the moment.
I just smiled, my hands still cupping her cheeks. The only sound was the traffic outside; the CD had come to the end. Neither of us moved for what seemed an eternity.
I leant forward again, breathing quickly as I parted my lips and kissed her again, running my tongue along her lips, and slowly forced her lips apart. She didn’t resist, as my tongue soon explored inside her mouth, my fingers stroking, caressing her cheeks. But as with the previous kiss, she didn’t respond, her tongue was still. Soon I broke the kiss and pulled away, letting my hands drop onto my lap.
"Oh My Christina, Oh my god, please accept my deepest apologies if I have offended you."
She was still red, blushing. I felt my cheeks burning as if I was under an intense light feeling somewhat embarrassed.
I apologized again, my hands hot, clammy as they rested on my lap. She smiled.
"No problem." she whispered.
I reached for the CD remote, and put the CD on again. Slowly we made small talk, before she regained her composure and left, giving me a hug, the first time she had volunteered a hug since we had met.
That evening my mind was in turmoil, I could not believe I had been so bold. That night I was unable to sleep, until I relieved myself, the centre of attention was with out question Christina.
The following night, there was a knock on the door; Christina had received some correspondence from the council regarding the tenants. I invited her in, and she hugged me, and reached across, offered me her cheeks. I kissed each in turn, as I offered her mine. We discussed the letter, and soon put that business to rest for the night.
She sat on the sofa, and she smiled, a young embarrassed girl type of smile, she looked sweet! I asked her what the matter was.
"Yesterday, what you said, what you did, did you mean it."
"Yes." I replied softly, "Sorry if I upset you, shocked you."
"Well," she continued, ignoring me, "It's just that no one has ever kissed me like that, it was soft, gentle, and well with feeling. It didn’t seem like it was a kiss to try and go further." She giggled softly, briefly.
This led onto a very intimate, personal conversation. She asked me questions about my sexuality, my boyfriend, my bi-sexual side. Whilst probing at times the questions were always sensible, and as I poured us a glass of wine, we chatted for an hour or so, and I felt so at ease to answer them. I guess after the previous night, she had the right for me to answer her truthfully. She left lateish that evening, and she seemed much more relaxed about her self, and me; what had happened between us the night before. It was not a one way conversation ether, as she told me more about her family’s history, and her sexual experiences however limited they had been.
Over the next few weeks, I saw her regularly; each would be accompanied by a hug, and the exchange of kissing on the cheeks. Whilst she asked the odd question, nothing further happened. I wasn’t sure, by then if I wanted anything to happen. The events of that night had bought us closer as friends, and even though I found her youth, her naïve nature sexually intriguing, I did not want to upset her again. I had decided that should our friendship develop further at a more intimate level, I would wait for a sign from Christina, though I wasn’t sure how the sign would come, if at all. The thought that I might even not recognize the sign kept cropping up, but only time would tell.
Well, the sign did come, and spookily enough, I have just realized whilst writing, it occurred on Valentine's weekend. It was late Sunday afternoon; again Adrian had gone home, leaving me to carry on with the domestic chores. As such I was dressed in home mode, wearing a comfortable pair of tight jogging leggings, cotton thong and a soft, chunky slash neck jumper, exposing the luxurious blue lace strap of my bra.
The doorbell rang. As the Entry phone had not rang, I guessed the visitor was another resident, most likely to be Christina. It was. Despite being a cold Sunday afternoon, Christina looking rather lovely greeted me. I noticed she had applied some make up, and smelt her sweet perfume. She was dressed in her brown knee-high leather boots, and a knee length denim skirt. Her top was covered with a red Halter neck style top, and a cardigan.
I invited her in, and we greeted as usual, with a hug and a kiss. Then she stopped, and paused. I saw her head move towards me slightly, and then I felt her lips on mine, her tongue exposed as she licked my lips. My lips parted, gently accepting her tongue into my lips as my hands moved down on to her sides, gently running up and down as I responded to her kiss, softly letting out a gentle sigh.
I broke the kiss finally, taking her hand I led her to the living room and sat on the sofa. Shortly, we were kissing again, breaking away for deep breaths. I started to advise her on how to kiss, how to use the tongue, how to suck on the lips, the tongue. As we continued kissing, softly, deeply on the sofa, she improved; I guess a combination of my tips, and her gaining confidence. My hands explored her body too whilst we kissed, feeling her pert breasts through the cotton of her top, her cardigan was quickly pushed off her shoulders as we french kissed, deeply. I encouraged her hands to caress me, to explore my body as I placed my hands on hers and moved them; I encouraged her to tweak, to tease my nipples through the lace of my bra, under the jumper, before I moved one hand down to my crutch, and asked her to rub me through the leggings, my hand on her thigh, stroking her mound, feeling her wetness develop through her underwear.
I have no idea how long we spent on the sofa, but I thought the comfort of my king-size iron framed bed would be much more appropriate. I stood up, reached for her hand, and led her there, seeing the smile on her face.
I allowed her to enter first, standing behind her. She stood, I could see her head move around, she was taking in the sight before, giggling as she pointed out my boot collection. Several bras were hanging from the iron frame; she walked up and felt the lace. I followed her, my hands gently caressing her side, following her tight contours from her bottom up to her neck, and down, caressing the back her sides. I could see her soft skin, as I gently caressed it with my fingernails.
Finally I snuggled in closer to her, lifting her hair from her neck exposing the necktie of her halter-top. I leant in, lips puckered as I slowly kissed her, my fingers unfastening the knot… letting the front of her top fall forwards, allowing me to see her breasts in the reflection of the mirror as I slowly kissed the nape of her neck. My hands slid forward, under her arms lightly caressing her breasts. I felt her lean back against me as she relaxed her body, sighing to my kisses, to my caresses.
I moved round kissing, liking leaving a trail of soft kisses, as my hands gently caressed her breasts, played with her nipples feeling them stiffen, harden to my touch. I gently ran my finger nails on the under side, feeling a shudder travel through her
"Men do not realize how sensitive the underside of breasts can be, especially when we are aroused." I whispered into her ear.
She just sighed, her neck arched backwards opening up her throat to me.
Having grasped the waistband of her top, I lifted it up, over her head, and dropped it onto the floor, exposing her torso, able to view again in the mirror. Still kissing, her skirt was soon unfastened, pushing it down her slender hips, exposing her thong, the whiteness in stark contrast against her olive-brown skin, and her black knee high boots. She turned around, and faced me, her arms reached behind me as she kissed me softly but passionately, her kissing technique was developing rapidly, her own style emerging.
My mouth began to wander, sucking on her bottom lip, my hands constantly exploring, caressing, running the tip of my fingernails across her bare skin, sensing shudders, ripples through her. Slowly I worked my way down, kissing the front of her throat, downwards.
My tongue swirled around her nipple, flicking over, feeling her hands run through my hair, gently moaning. I eased her backwards… until her feet could go back no more. Gently I pushed her onto the bed. My mouth returned to her breasts as I slowly kissed, nibbled, caressed allowing my tongue to taste her. She did not speak, but rather kept moaning softly, letting out sighs, occasionally calling out my name, but no more. Her belly button was deep, as my tip of the tongue gently probed her sensing her giggle mumbling about being ticklish. I continued, before moving on, leaving a trail of gentle wet kisses.
Finally, her mound was before me, covered by a white thong, wisps of dark hair exposed from all sides, a small damp area obviously visible. I looked up, made eye contact, and smiled, She smiled in return.
Slowly I raised myself, soon standing before her, as I reached for the hem of my jumper. Before long I was naked, aware that Christina was watching my every move, staring at my body, her eyes trying to follow my fingers as I gently caressed myself. Momentarily, I gazed up on her, naked on my bed. Her small pert breasts were lovely, reaching for the sky, her dark areola contrasting against her paler skin, her nipples hard, proud, erect. Reaching for a pair of nail scissors, I knelt on the floor, her thong covered temple in front of me, and her obvious state of arousal could be smelt.
Not wanting to disturb her, I cut the waistband of her thong, watching the elastic cut into two, allowing me to expose her mound. Her lips were a deep brown colour, the pink inners visible through the deep bush of hair that covered her; in my limited experience this was the bushiest mound I had encountered.
My tongue was soon exposed as I gently kissed her inner thigh, the tip moving in circles, and upwards. The texture of hair was soon encountered, together with the taste of her, as I reached her labia, gently running my tongue up and down, using the tip, barely touching.
Slowly I continued, gently exploring her, tasting her, teasing her. Feeling her hands rest gently on my head, through my hair, I continued, slowly pushing my tongue against her flesh, feeling her comb my hair with her nails.
Tongue flicked, licked against her labia, feeling her squirm, hearing gentle sighs, as I slowly explored her sexuality, allowing her to enjoy the tender touch of another girl. I am not sure how long, or how soon I felt her body tense slightly, hearing her breaths become shorter, more rapid, hearing her moan. Soon I felt her body tense up, as she had a gentle orgasm, pulling my head tighter, deeper against her mound.
I looked up, she looked so pretty, her eyes were closed, and her hands had moved, one was pinching a nipple, the other gripping my duvet, her knuckles were slightly white. Her lips were slightly open obviously smiling.
I allowed her to recover, as I watched, the moment was erotic, as it was beautiful. I felt the coolness of her boots against me. I looked down and reached for one leg, raiding the boot to my lips. I kissed it, slowly, sensuously. My hands gently caressed, massaged her calf through the supple leather, whilst I slowly covered her boot with a trail of wet gentle kisses. Finally my lips came into contact with her skin, feeling the difference in texture, temperature. My eyes caught hers as she smiled back.