Pretty Lin Ch. 02

Chapter 2: A Morning Story

We cuddled in a happy knot, dozing warmly together, until the sky started to lighten outside. Micca - she hates 'Michaela' - leaned up on one elbow, looking down at me, and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. She took my hand from between her legs and pressed it to her lips, then to mine. The salty sweetness on my fingers and the scent of sex started turning me on all over again. I reached up and pulled her head down to mine, for a long soft kiss.

"Lin, if we don't get going now, I might never let go," Micca said.

"And the problem would be ...?"

"Coffee."

"Of course. I'll get it going."

I pulled that oversized T-shirt on, rounded up all the stray underwear, and threw it in the laundry basket. (This studio apartment doesn't let me make two messes at a time.) The kitchenette was only a few steps more, and I had the water heating in a moment. I found watermelon in the fridge, that would do for now. The microwaved dinged while I was cutting the melon, so I poured hot water into the French press, drowning a thick layer of ground coffee. I pressed the plunger half way down, then back up again to get the air out of the grounds, and went back to cutting melon. By the time I had finished with the melon and gotten the tray set up for eating, the coffee was about done. I pressed the plunger home and poured two big mugs - we both like it back. This was our breakfast in bed.

Micca was looking at me as I brought the tray over. In fact, she had been sort of staring at me the whole time I was putting the food together. Lying on her side, head propped up on one hand, her tapered waist and round hip showed their curves beautifully. I set the tray on the bed, then sat cross-legged beside her. She sat up, adjusted a pillow as backrest, and leaned against the wall. I passed her a mug. Then, instead of giving her a bowl, I speared a pink chunk and offered it to her. She leaned forward and ate it from the fork, with that cute, shy smile.

After that, I set the fork aside. I popped a piece into my own mouth, then picked one up and offered it to her. She took it again, along with the tips of my finger and thumb. When I drew them away, she followed, and licked a drop of juice from each.

We both felt the glow from making love earlier, and enjoyed a happy moment without words. She held her mug in both hands, and I fed us both chunks of sweet melon. Sometimes, I would stroke her cheek or forehead before pulling my hand away. Then I teased a little, making her lean forward to get the next piece. When she leaned forward enough, her soft, heavy breasts swung away from her body.

Next time, I picked the biggest piece of melon, too much for one mouthful. When she leaned forward to bite into it, my other hand rose up under swaying breast and held. She looked up at me, smiled, and closed her eyes - but didn't lean back. Instead, she munched quietly, then opened her mouth for another bite. That baby-bird trust and vulnerability melted me. My hand cupped the pendant breast as I fed her, and my thumb stroked the side of it. The next bite of melon was last, so I popped it into her mouth, then let my fingertip linger so her lips closed around it.

She opened her eyes with a liquid, happy look on her face, and nibbled her lower lip. Then she held her own hand against the one I had under her breast. She closed her eyes again, leaned up toward me, and parted her lips - the "kiss me" pose that no one can resist. I accepted, still holding her, just the tips of lips at first. I touched all around her mouth with mine, then pulled her lip between mine. Her pink tongue slid out and moistened my my mouth, then we touched in slippery warmth.

This slow, gentle exploration was nothing like tongue-wrestling with a boy, so we let it go on. Micca's eyes opened then, and she leaned back with a smile. Her breast slid out of my hand as she did. She crossed her arms under those soft swells, lifting them, and asked, "Well, are we going running or not?"

"Let's go." I picked up the tray, and we both headed toward the kitchenette. The bathroom was right next to it, and that's where she was going. Her T-shirt didn't cover her bottom, it just bunched at the waist. The view from behind made me want to grab her again. Instead, I put the dishes in the sink, put the tray away, and started to change.

I heard the toilet flush and the sink run for a moment, then Micca came out. The T-shirt covered her this time, just barely, and she leaned over her clothes bag. The shirt rode up to show her bottom again, and I marveled at the grace and strength of that round curve. I also marveled at that dark place, just a bit wider than the rest of the crevice, at the top of her thighs. Facing away from me, she pulled on panties and shorts, then her new sport bra.

That step is no big deal for me - mine is not much more than a snug tube top with shoulder straps. She had to put hers on over her shoulders, lean down to enclose each heavy breast just so, do up way too many eyelets on the front closure, and adjust everything again. Socks and running shoes, then we were off.

The sun was well up, but the air still cool. That made running comfortable, but every guy we passed stared at our chests. (Well, hers mostly, but the slight chill meant I had a little something for the oglers, too.) This new bra really worked for her. Once it was on, she didn't have to tug at it like she did with the other ones, or keep her arms crossed in front. It really held her bust to a gentle bounce. She told me where she got it and what it cost. My bras are little stringy things, when I bother, and I never paid even a third of that for one. (Well, I paid it once for a bra that promised even I would have cleavage. It lied. Only Photoshop could do that for me.) I knew how uncomfortable running could be for her, though, so I figured the price was worth it.

After about forty minutes, we slowed our pace to cool down. We both felt happily stretched and relaxed by the time we got home. When we got in, Micca asked, "Do you want first shower."

"Yes," I answered. "Soap my back?"

She looked blank for a moment, then realized what I was asking. "Of course!"

We almost raced undressing. I made it into the bathroom first, but stopped to collect towels and washcloths. She stepped into the bathtub and started the water. I pulled the curtain when I got in, and felt warm water around my feet. She switched the faucet to shower, and the warm water streamed over us.

"Let wash your hair," I asked. She stood under the water to wet her hair while I poured a little shampoo into my hands. The she slid by me, away from the shower head, and stood with her back to me. I started massaging her scalp.

It was really just an excuse for touch. I had been getting mixed messages from her body language, despite our intimacy last night: shy/bold, eager/nervous, fascinated/scared. Micca had been a friend for so long that I didn't this new experience to cause problems -- I wanted her completely happy with this new part of our friendship. Her head seemed like a safe place to start. It didn't take long to lather her short hair, but I drew it out for fun. Then I let go of her for a moment, soaped my hands and started on her shoulders.

Micca relaxed into it, leaning against the tiled wall. I worked her shoulders and back, then continued down. She tensed for a moment when I got to the wide muscle at the back of her hip, then relaxed again. I moved on quickly and down her leg. Her thighs normally touch each other, but she stood wide so I could soap in between, and worked down to her feet. Then I switched to the other leg, and lathered my way back up. I spent extra time on the thigh, especially the inside. When I got to the top inside, I barely touched her furry softness with my thumb. She shivered when I did, but flexed her legs wider. I moved up her bottom, and touched that sensitive spot deep between her cheeks. She clenched for a moment, but my slick hands continued up her back.

I stood up when I got toward her waist, and my hands started around to her front. Up, under her arms, I felt the swell of her breast, starting much farther back than I expected. She still leaned forward, onto the tile wall, and gave quiet "mmm" sounds. My hands worked forward, one under each breast, and I cupped them.

Their heaviness surprised me. I had felt their softness last night, but didn't realize how much substance lay behind that rose-petal delicacy. I shifted my hands so my thumbs stroked the areolas, and leaned close against her from behind. She gave a dreamy sound and tilted her bottom against my lap. I held her close for a moment, then reached for the shower sprayer. I rinsed her hair, then took a lot more time than I needed to in wiping the soap from her back. I finished by turning the warm spray upward, behind and between her legs, cleaning her like a baby.

"Could you turn around?" She stood and turned toward me, arms a little out from her side, legs apart. 'Here I am,' her body seemed to say, 'for whatever you want.' I started safely again, washing one arm from hand to shoulder, watching out for the armpit tickle spot, then doing the other arm. Then I knelt to wash her feet, and worked my way up the front of each leg in turn. I stood then, and looked into her eyes. She gazed back steadily, with an easy smile. I skipped her lower body, and lifted one of her breasts in both my hands.

I savored that lovely weight, feeling somehow responsible for it while it was in my care, and examined it as I had never had a chance to before. I was amazed. I had never noticed that delicate tracery of blue veins under her milky, pale skin. I envied the fragile beauty of that blue lacework - it doesn't show through my skin tone. I lifted the breast she had entrusted to me, and massaged soap all over the top and bottom, then did the other. I used the sprayer to rinse each one, and lifted them to rinse under.

Then I lifted one breast again, cradled it in both hands, and leaned down to kiss it. I worked all across its upper side, feeling its gentle resilience against my face. I looked up to her smile again, set it gently down, and lifted the other. I kissed that too, down to a wide wet kiss across her smooth areola. Warmth had smoothed the nipple, but my lips teased it back up. When I had kissed it all, I set that one down, too.

I soaped my hands again, then started on her pubic hair. One hand held her bottom, pulling her close to me. I worked the soap all over, as I had done on her head, pressing in circles with my fingertips. She shifted one foot, then the other, to open the way down and between her legs, and I massaged lower.

Micca kept her open stance and steady contact with my eyes, but her eyes started to flutter. I found the split between her labia, and ran my finger along it - not in, but the whole length of it. She bit her lower lip, but kept her open, trusting gaze. I reached low then up, with just one finger. It slid easily between her labia, because of the soap.

"You said this is mine, didn't you?"

She gazed at me levelly. The smile stayed, but changed from a distant dream to something much more alert and immediate.

"Yes, Lin, it's yours." Her arms still stood away from her sides. I saw a little tremor in them as my fingertip worked deeper between her labia. I found that tight muscle at her body's entrance, and pressed against it. I circled the soft depth, pressing against its guardian gate of muscle, working slowly inward. After a few minutes of slow approach, the whole first segment of my finger felt the grasp of that outer ring.

"Micca, I want to feel you come again. From inside. You have no idea how wonderful it is to feel your orgasm from inside. Can you do that for me?"

Micca's happy expression faltered, then came back even stronger. "Yes, Lin. It's yours." With that, one hand dropped to her pubis, and the other toyed with a thickening nipple. I felt her probe herself blindly, since her eyes continued to hold mine. Her hand moved uncertainly for a few minutes, and she shifted from one foot to the other. "I don't think I can, standing up. Is it OK if we lie down?"

"Of course," I answered, not sure how to handle that obedient trust. "But I have to get clean, too."

"May I?" She sounded like a little girl promised a new toy.

"Please." I stood as she had, arms and legs spread so she could was every part of me. She started, as I had, by washing my hair. Mine is a lot longer than hers and very thick, so I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feel of her kneading the lather into it. Then she rinse the shampoo out, worked the cream rinse in, and left that to sit while the rest of me got her attention.

First, she turn me around and massaged soap into my shoulders and back. She sort of skipped my bottom, then did my legs in long, strong strokes. She turned me to face her again, and started on my legs. Then she stood and soaped my shoulders. Instead of staring into my face, her attention had locked onto my breasts. She approached them slowly and cautiously, unsure how to proceed for some reason. I made happy noises as she massaged the sides, and pulled my arms back and pushed my chest out to encourage her. Finally, she cupped one of the little things in each hand, and scissored each nipple at the "V" near her thumb. She looked into my eyes again, and said, "God, I wish I had breasts like yours." She massaged them for a moment longer, my nipples poking the center of her hands.

Then she reached down between my legs. She looked down as she soaped my pubic hair, not looking at what she was doing but looking away from my eyes. Much too soon, she reached for the sprayer and rinsed me nervously. I just didn't get it. I couldn't wait to feel her hand on my sex, exploring as I had explored her, but she shied. What could I do to get her to touch me? I toyed with my pubic hair while she rinsed and thought.

"Micca, would you shave me?"

"What?" almost a yelp. "You mean, down there?"

"Yes, I want to know what it looks like, what it feels like. Would you do it for me?"

"Well, OK." Hesitance and determination fought. Determination won.

"You're the best friend ever." I wanted to encourage her any way I could. "Let me get a fresh razor." I dripped all over the bathroom getting a new disposable and the liquid soap, then stepped back into the shower. I leaned against the rear wall, cold against the tile, and grabbed the shower's towel bar for balance I set one foot up on the edge of the tub, and said, "You'll be careful, right?"

She didn't answer, but was already on her knees in front of me. Once she decided she was in, her attention focused entirely on the job at hand. She worked up a light lather, massaging the soap into my pubic hair. That gentle stimulation had me quivering inside. Then popped the cover off the razor. Starting at the top, she worked her way carefully downward.

The first part was easy, low on my tummy and out toward my thighs. Micca slowed as she worked toward my crevice, working in short, careful strokes. After a while, she had to handle me to get all the hidden spots. Cautious at first, she gently stretched one of my labia to the side, to get in near the thigh, then spread it carefully open to get the fuzz just inside the fold. Her touch became bolder on the other side, but no less careful, then she went back up to spots she had avoided earlier. I felt myself twitching inside, I was so excited. Still, I didn't want to challenge her new sureness.

She felt low and back, between my legs, to find the spots toward the back that needed it. I nearly laughed out loud, watching her turn almost upside down to look up at what she was doing. Then she went back to the top, to the part just where it folds inwards, to get the few bits of fuzz just inside the fold. Thumb and finger of one hand opened me while the other cautiously harvested the last of my little crop of hair. I wanted that moment to go on - just a few moments more, and my orgasm would have poured into her hands.

Micca checked her work, stroking every part with her fingertips, over and over. Up the outer lip, down its inner edge, up the other side, and down toward my thigh again. She seemed not to notice how ragged my breathing had become. She stood to switch the sprayer on, then kneeled again and directed the warm water up between my legs. She rinsed carefully until ever trace of soapy slickness was gone. She took care with the inner folds, too, then worked down low. I could feel myself tensing under her touch - and she seemed to have no idea.

Then she touched that deep point and I arched. "Micca, that slippery bit isn't soap." She startled and almost pulled her hand away, then held her ground. Keeping that touch where it was, she dropped the sprayer. The other hand, thumb and finger, spread me open again. She examined my inner lips and clitoris closely.

"I expected this to be, ..." She faltered. "I didn't think it would be so pretty. So delicate." A finger stoked the side of my clitoris, sending a happy spasm outward from the center point.

With her finger still on the side of my clitoris, Micca looked up at me with a happy smile. Then she pressed a long warm kiss against my mons. The bare skin tingled at her touch. It held for a moment, then shifted, held and shifted, working its way down. She got to the point where pressure passed through to my clitoris, and my free hand found the back of her head. Feathery kisses continued downward, opening each inner fold with her tongue or lips. I moved my foot from the side of the tub to her shoulder, then behind her head. I tilted the lowest, warmest part of my vulva up to her, open wide, and felt the exploration continue. Micca had me trembling at the edge of orgasm by the time she worked her way back up to my clitoris. She took it gently between her lips and pressed.

Still pressing, her head shifted side to side. It looked like a "no" shake of her head, but it meant "yes, yes, yes!" I felt the tremors building deep inside. She kept the pressure against my clitoris even as she pressed her tongue-tip as low and far in as she could. I felt ragged moans coming from below my lungs. My throat had that raw feel of yelling, but I couldn't hear myself. All I could do was wrap myself around Micca's magical kisses, press her hard against me, and do something to keep from falling over. I felt my pelvis explode around that warm kiss. Micca held close, and my body tensed around her again and again.

The waves came lower and lower as my orgasm passed, so there was no one moment when I could say it was done. But, eventually, it was done. I softened the hold on the back of her head, and moved my foot from her shoulder to the tub floor. I was wracked, panting, half laughing out loud. "You come up here," I told her. I couldn't trust myself to let go of support yet.

Micca stood. I held her head again, and pressed it to my lips. That was my taste on her mouth. She had me inside her mouth, inside of her. Maybe that's why guys like oral sex so much, that feeling of being accepted so deeply. She returned my grasp, pulling my bottom against her hip and covering one of my breasts with her hand.

I was still panting. "Where did you learn do to that?"

"My boyfriend tried it a few times," Micca said, holding me. "He meant well and really tried, but he didn't know what he was doing. I didn't know what to tell him, either, but I liked it anyway. Then, when I saw your ... you ..." She still couldn't use the words. "I kind of figured it out. You were so pretty, I couldn't help myself."

I was still trembling. "I need to sit down." Micca pressed against me once more, turned off the shower, and opened the shower curtain. We took turns drying each other with big fluffy towels, and I felt the warm weight of her breasts again. I passed her a soft terry robe while she toweled her hair, and I put on a print kimono. I stood on a stool and looked in the mirror. I felt my new nudity with my fingertips, enjoying that extra sensitivity. Then I stepped down and combed my fingers down through my hair, trying to figure out how to deal with it. Sometimes, long hair can be a pain.