A Brand New Ball Game Ch. 03

Occasionally, Christine's clitoris would press into mine, or brush against mine, and each of those joinings of womanly center to womanly center produced in each of us a mind-shattering orgasm, making us moan in almost mindless ecstasy as we came, again and again, her hips leading me into a beautiful paradise of colors, fragrances and sounds that didn't seem to be of this earth, and perhaps weren't, but rather a unique dimension created for a moment by the touch of her body on mine.

"Oh my god, Christine, I can barely breathe from the pleasure," I moaned, as she leaned over to kiss me, her hips beginning a different dance on mine, our now wet thighs intertwined, our love juices mingling and running over thighs and ass. Her lips and tongue on mine expressed her equally enchanting level of disorientation, lost as she was with me in our lovemaking.

"Callie...Callie..." she moaned, slave to her emotion and feeling, sensation being all for the one creature we had become. My hands caressed her sweet, small breasts, hard, pebbled nipples under my fingers and palm, girlish tummy heaving from her frenzied and erratic breathing. Our scissor-like joining of intertwined thighs was an erotic ballet that I had never suspected could exist. In a male and female coupling I didn't see that it would be comfortable, but in the love making of two women, it became an ultimate expression of sharing of pleasure.

Eventually, our slippery thighs slowed their sweet dance, then we lay together, our heat and moisture creating the most lovely perfume, that of two women's fresh, clean bodies together and cumming excitedly, again and again.

"That was lovely," Christine whispered in my ear, her lips nuzzling my earlobe lazily.

"Yes," I said. "However did you think of such a thing? I never imagined that it could be so good..."

"My first lover taught me," Christine confided, revealing a small part of herself.

"That was a sweet present that she gave you," I said. "And to me, I suppose."

"She was...is...very loving and sweet," Christine said. "And so are you," she finished, her eyes gazing so clearly into mine. She lay her head on my breast, comforting pressure there, and listened to my heart beat.

"Your pulse is so strong, and steady," she said. "It makes me feel as though I'm safe and warm in your womb."

I woke with a slight start, disoriented, then the memory of our afternoon into evening came back to me, and Christine drowsily opened her eyes, a smile coming to her lips. "What time is it?" she asked.

I craned my head to see the clock. "It's six o'clock," I said. "We must have dozed for about a half hour or so." We lay there for a little while, rising back to the surface from our sea of sleep, and then Christine brought her lips to mine again.

We kissed, softly and lovingly, and I could feel Christine begin to move against my body, her excitement and desire rising as she came more fully awake. I felt faint tendrils of anticipation and excitement begin coursing through me, too, and I was receptive to Christine's desire, a woman's sexual hunger for another woman the thought on both our minds.

"I wonder how you taste, after we combined our juices," Christine mused. I wasn't at all sure that would necessarily be the most attractive taste possible, though the thought of tasting our pussies was highly erotic. "Only one way to find out," Christine said, then began slipping down my body.

"No, no..." I began, afraid that if Christine were turned off by smelling or tasting me, it might end our newly born relationship before it had time to grow, but she ignored me, and kissed her way down my body. I felt her lips and tongue on the tight angle where my thigh joined my pudenda, usually one of the first areas to become sweaty.

To my relief, Christine didn't swear or throw up. To the contrary, her tongue laved both sides of my thighs leading to my pussy, and her lips and tongue continued on to my wet pussy, and Christine enthusiastically brought her mouth to my slit, and puffy labia. At that moment I understood where the expression 'eating a girl's pussy' came from.

She was attacking my whole vulva with a ferocity I had never encountered when men had kissed me down there. In fairness to them, they had done a good job of showing interest when 'eating' me, but the difference here was like that of a random teenager singing her own cover of a Britney Spears song on youtube, and Whitney Houston actually belting out a song at the height of her career.

Christine's tongue was deep inside me, caressing my silky vaginal walls, licking up the feminine cream that I had imagined to be exhausted, but which I was discovering to be an infinitely renewable resource. Her lips were equally talented and skilled at applying the perfect pressure to the ridges of my labia, and to my delicate and sensitive clitoris.

"Ahh, that's so good," I crooned to Christine, falling once again under her spell, eager to be slave to the physical expression of her desire for me. The now familiar anticipation was building inside me, at first a faint tingling in the rosy-pink pearl of my clit, then paths of delicious electricity coursing faintly outward into my hips and thighs, then an almost swelling sensation in my clit as though it were a battery storing the potential energy of my coming climax.

To my consternation, though, the familiar release didn't occur, rather excitement built and built again upon itself until I began to fear that I would somehow explode if something didn't happen. Then I realized that my body was crying out for a trigger to set itself off, a chance first to return pleasure and thus bring it to myself.

"Give me your pussy, please!" I begged Christine, knowing from my body's responses now that bringing Christine to orgasm was exactly what I needed to set off my own orgasm. Christine complied, while not taking her mouth off my vulva for a single second, swinging her body around so that her silky bare pussy lay in front of my face. I wrapped my arms around her thighs, then began licking her wet, aromatic and sweetly fragrant flesh, absorbing the residue of our earlier lovemaking, and the renewed flow of her girlish cream from the now.

I could never imagine how wonderful that two women's pussy juices could taste and smell together, if I hadn't experienced it myself. Licking a woman to orgasm had been fantastic - tasting Beth what seemed years ago, but was actually only a few days, had been to that time, the most exciting and sensual event of my life, but this joining, this mutual surrender of Christine and I, was infinitely better, in every way possible, it seemed.

I was lost in exploring her wondrous vulva, the smell of our joined bodies' perfume, a sweet musk never to be mistaken for anything but two excited women coupling and bringing each other the ultimate pleasure.

The taste of her liquid interior, creamy emission only possible from a woman reaching orgasm, copious in quantity, sterling in quality. The touch of her flesh there, hotly moist, silky skin, faint pulse of faraway heart, swelling of labia from tiny, imperceptible folds of flesh, to plump guardians of her center. The sight of her clitoral hood, pulling away as her clitoris fills with blood, enabling thousands of nerve endings, all with the goal of making her insane with pleasure. Glistening moisture on the surface of that clit, like a queen encased in ermine robe, ready to receive her suitors.

The sounds of ecstasy and pleasure, involuntarily emitted by the woman receiving your granted pleasure, words without definition but full of meaning, small twitches of fingers and limbs, as all control of her nervous system is ceded to her clitoris, greedily keeping all pleasure for itself.

I think we came endlessly together, thrashing and sighing, then relaxing, over and over, a mindless refrain of ecstasy and fulfilled pleasure, until we just ran down into sleep, together in each other's arms.

I remember a soft dream, two women together just being, beauty surrounding us, sweetness filling us, her hair like a cascade of silk on her shoulders. Her hand in mine as we walked, warm and soft, vulnerable and strong, both. Her smile, open and guileless, a gateway to her inner self, her eyes promising all and her lips fulfilling the promise. We slept on.

Was this love?

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