A Girl Named Mitch Ch. 04

Scheduled sex tends not to be romantic. It's even worse when you're nervous about the whole thing to start with. But Mitch was a magician. We cleaned up after dinner without even mentioning our new toy. I stood at the sink and washed while Mitch dried and put away, and every time she passed by she'd touch me. A hand on the waist, fingers on my shoulders, and every little contact made me more and more aware of her physical presence.

After we finished I thought sure she was going to lead me back to the bedroom, but she didn't. Instead we cuddled on the couch watching the night session from New York, talking tennis, and then not talking and just holding. And then came gentle kisses, sweet nuzzles, and soft caresses before Mitch stood and guided me to my feet.

I was so lost in her that I barely noticed her scoop the strap on up as we headed to our room. We stood at the edge of the bed, slowly undressing each other, and when I was nude Mitch guided me into the center of the mattress.

She set her new accoutrement at the edge of the bed and crawled over me, finding my mouth with hers and kissing me deeply. Any anxiety I was still feeling was rapidly dribbling away as Mitch moved her lips to my ears and then down my neck. She spent some time on my breasts before moving further south, and I was fully wet and aroused by the time she took my sex into her mouth.

We'd done exactly this a hundred times before, which I knew was precisely what Mitch was going for, trying to put me totally at ease. And as my first orgasm rolled over me, I'd say she succeeded.

She took me almost all the way back to the promised land a second time before she kissed my inner thighs and turned me onto my stomach. This was different, and I gasped as Mitch began to kiss down my spine. She worked slowly, caressing my bottom as she headed further south.

Mitch rose up and grasped my hips. "Get up on your knees, baby. Let me see that beautiful butt of yours."

I obeyed, sticking my backside wantonly into the air. As soon as I did Mitch slid her hand between my legs, caressing my sex from front to back before pushing two fingers deep inside me. I moaned into the pillow. It was perfect, and in and out she went. I felt wanton and primal, offering myself to my mate.

"Don't move."

I felt her weight leave the bed, and I could hear her working the metal clasps on the strap on. Moments later she was kneeling behind me. The length of the phallus slid between my legs and glided against the dripping wetness of my sex, followed again by Mitch's fingers. She was using my own nectar to lube it up, and my hands gripped the edge of the mattress as I prepared for what was coming.

I felt the tip press against my opening. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh."

Mitch's hands tightened on my hips and she pushed inside me.

"Ohhh my god!" It felt amazing, completely different from anything I'd experienced before. Mitch pulled out and drove in again, deeper this time, and I pushed my hips back to increase the penetration. My lover began a steady rhythm, and I could feel her thighs touch mine with every thrust as the texture of the phallus played over the sensitive skin of my entrance.

Every time the blue length drove in it hit a spot deep inside me that sent pleasure streaming from my pussy out into my limbs, all the way to my fingers and toes. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, bettering the angle, and we settled into a steady rhythm that set my whole body vibrating with pleasure.

"Is that good, baby?"

"Uh-huh." I somehow managed to squeak the words. "Don't stop, please."

"Oh, I won't. Promise." The confident husk in her voice sent a thrill up my spine, and I settled back into the glorious rhythm she was setting. I could hear the wet sounds of Mitch's penetration, something I'd never experienced before. And the building, thrumming pleasure, notching up with each blessed stroke, was beyond heady.

I have no idea how long we'd been going when Mitch leaned forward. I was just starting to worry that I wasn't going to get there before one of us tired, remembering statistics I'd read of how few women could orgasm from penetration alone.

"Do you want to come, sweetheart?"

Oh, god, yes, I needed to come. I was desperate for it. "Oh, please."

Her hand slipped around my leg, over my lower abdomen, through the downy blonde hair on my mons and over my clit.

I groaned, wanton and lustful as my orgasm went from questionable to inevitable, and my muscles coiled in preparation for release. And suddenly, after several more exquisite moments, the dam broke and I howled into the night as I pulsed and spasmed around the still stroking length inside me.

She slowed as I began to come down, the phallus slipping out of me as I collapsed onto the bed. I rolled over, holding out my shaking arms. She covered me, kissing me deeply before pulling away.

"Good?"

"Yes." I nodded, wrapping my legs around her waist. I reached down between us, grasping the length still attached to Mitch's lower torso and guiding it inside me. "More?"

"So much more." She began stroking again, filling me beautifully as she hovered above me. I rocked my hips up with every stroke, and it felt wonderful, but what was really wonderful were her eyes. She stared into mine with such incredible passion and intensity. I have no idea how simple, boring me could inspire that kind level of feeling in someone as incredible as Michelle Kirkpatrick.

But I did, and it was all in her eyes. I wasn't always the quickest to pick up on other people's feelings, but I couldn't deny what I was seeing. She wanted nothing more than to be close to me, to make me happy and give me pleasure. And my heart broke with love for her. She kissed me, and I sank into the feeling. I belonged completely to her, and I wanted just this, forever.

When my next orgasm found me it was more soul than body, as I moaned in cadence with the pleasure. It was the most intense, whole being experience of my life, and when it passed I was just desperate to be held close by the woman I loved.

She slipped out of me, and for a horrible moment she wasn't touching me as she divested herself of our new toy. I whined pathetically as I reached for her. She had it off in a jiff, though, and moments later she was pulling me into her embrace.

My head rested on her strong bicep as her other arm circled my waist. She threw her leg over me and I was completely wrapped up in her, blissfully and deliriously happy.

"Was that good?" Mitch asked.

"Mm-hm. So good. I love you."

"Oh, baby, I love you, too."

"We can do that again, right?"

Mitch laughed. "As much as you want. But it's time for bed, isn't it?"

"Mm, yeah." We slid off the bed so we could turn down the sheets, and when I climbed in Mitch sat on the edge of the bed.

"You need anything?"

I shook my head. "No. Just cuddles." I reached out to her, smiling in that innocent, girlish way that I knew made Mitch crazy. It had the desired effect, as my lover slid into bed with alacrity, kissing me deeply and pulling me close. I lay my head on her chest, falling asleep listening to the soft sound of her breathing and the steady, powerful beat of her heart.

***

The cuddles lasted straight through 'til morning, and I woke up still wrapped up in Mitch's arms. She was awake already, her fingers running up and down my skin under the covers.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

I grinned at her and stretched under the sheets. "Mmm, so comfy." I pressed myself back against her. "Tired. Some chick wore me out last night."

She tickled my side. "You loved it."

I giggled. "Yeah. A little sore this morning though. It's been awhile. A good sore, though."

"You sure? Did I go too hard, or too long?"

"Oh, no such thing. It is weird though. I remember feeling like this, y'know, before, but this is different. This makes me happy."

"Well, it's partially because I'm amazing." She was grinning that big Mitch grin, which made me laugh.

"You brat."

She put her arms around me and settled back into her pillow. "Jimmy asked me one time if lesbians don't like dick why do they like strap-ons."

"Seriously?"

"Well, he was cruder about it, but yeah."

"What'd you say?"

"I asked him if he liked getting blow jobs. When he said he did I asked if it mattered to him if the person giving him one was a guy or a girl. I mean, it would feel good either way."

That made me laugh, but the implication wasn't lost on me. Last night had proven there had never been anything wrong with me. I was just gay, and when my gorgeous butch girlfriend took me, I could enjoy it every bit as much as any straight girl could enjoy their boyfriend. Probably more, seeing how long it had lasted. And trying to replicate that feeling with any guy would, for me, be completely pointless.

***

As the semester really got going I just loved what was happening. Mitch and I would drive into campus every morning and head home after our evening workouts. Mitch would cook a few nights a week, and we ate dinner at our little table almost like grownups. I helped when I could, but Mitch seemed determined to win my heart through my stomach.

I didn't have any desire to tell her the deed was already done. I can't tell you how many fantasies I had that this was my life, that we had graduated, and were adults working, married to each other. That I was going to have Mitch by my side, holding me every night, loving me every day, for the rest of my life. The very thought would bring a tear to my eye.

I also didn't see how it was possible. I knew, without question, that my parents wouldn't allow it. It seems almost silly looking back on everything now, but walking away from my parents, from my family, had never occurred to me. Being disowned, however, that had presented itself to my imagination many times, and it terrified me. I'd been Aaron and Valerie Spencer's daughter my entire existence. It'd been the defining reality of my life since the day I was born. What was I without it? Still, those questions didn't need answers immediately, as graduation and the onset of real life still seemed an eternity away.

We had people over on a regular basis, which Mitch always made fun. I remembered company being a super stressful experience growing up, like Mom's entire self worth was being judged, mostly by my dad.

But being with Mitch, I finally understood that having people over wasn't about showing off, (well maybe just a little, but in a fun way), it was about spending time with people you cared about and having fun. The first time we had Carrie and her boyfriend du jour over I'd been frantically cleaning the bathroom while Mitch was in the kitchen, singing to herself. I was furious at her. Didn't she know how important this was?

I was scrubbing the slightly discolored toilet, which had been that way when we moved in, when Mitch appeared behind me and lifted me to my feet. There were tears in my eyes, but Mitch just held me to her. "Baby. It doesn't have to be perfect. They're not coming to see our bathroom."

"I don't want them to think we're pigs."

"We aren't. Have you seen Carrie's dorm room?"

That made me smile. She wasn't a slob, but Carrie wasn't the most orderly person on earth, either. Mitch tightened her arms around me and rested her chin on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I turned in her arms and let a few sobs slip free as she held me.

"Do you want me to call them and cancel?"

I shook my head. "No, you worked so hard on dinner."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, forcing a smile and giving Mitch a little kiss. I knew I wasn't fooling her, but she let it drop. I managed to have a good time, and Mitch didn't bring it up again until they were gone, and we were snuggled in bed.

"You want to tell me what that was about before?" Mitch was holding me from behind, big-spooning me and whispering in my ear.

"It's just, um," I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth and safety of my lover. "It's hard. Company coming, it was stressful."

"Really? Why? It's supposed to be fun, y'know."

I smiled. "I know." I steeled myself, and I think Mitch was going to let it go, but I wanted to tell her, so I opened a dark closet in my mind. "One time, when I was nine or so, we had Pastor Greaver and his wife over, and Mom overcooked the roast, and it was a little dry. Our guests were both complimentary, and grateful, and I didn't think it was a big deal until they left.

"We kids were sent off to bed, but I came out for a glass of water to keep on my bed stand. I listened as my father scolded my mother. He said the meat was unacceptable, how disappointed he was in her, and he asked her how he was supposed to be respected in the church if he couldn't bring the pastor home for a decent meal. He just kept saying these horrible things in this cold, vicious voice. She was in tears, saying how sorry she was, begging for forgiveness.

"He just left her there, crying in the kitchen, cleaning up. I so badly wanted to go help her, but I didn't know what Dad would have done if I had, so I slunk back to my room like a coward. After that I was terrified anytime anyone came over. I'd always do everything I could to help, but I could always see how scared Mom was."

"Oh, Cindy."

I let the tears come as Mitch held me close and kissed the back of my head.

"Cindy, you know I would never treat you like that, right?" I nodded, and Mitch continued to whisper to me. "Real love isn't like that. What your dad did, that was abuse. Making someone earn love is abusive, plain and simple. I love you to the moon and back, and you never, ever have to earn it. It's yours, just because you're you. Okay?"

I turned in her embrace, tears streaming as my heart broke with love for the woman holding me. Her love was a perfect gift, one I still felt I didn't fully deserve. Was it because I felt I hadn't earned it? I'd always had to earn my dad's love, or at least his approval. That was the only thing I knew how to do. But here it was. A gift, if I could just accept it. And Mitch was right, that's how love was supposed to be. I'd never make her earn my love. It was hers, and her love was mine, which meant I could let myself just belong in her arms.

***

I got an object lesson of exactly how a family was supposed to treat one another over fall break. I actually blew off my last class on Thursday so we could leave for her parent's house at lunchtime. When I'd Googled directions it said the trip would take about seven and a half hours for the drive, but Mitch's bombastic personality extended to her driving, and we got there before seven.

When we pulled into the driveway her mom and dad were waiting on the porch. There were definitely butterflies swirling around in my stomach. Would they like me? What would I need to do to win their approval?

Mitch hopped out of her truck and opened her arms as her mom gave her a big hug. "Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you."

"Hi, Mom."

I quietly opened my door and climbed out, standing silently on the other side of the truck. As Mitch and her mom talked.

Her mom stood back and looked her daughter over. "It looks like they're feeding you okay."

"Yeah. Five pounds of muscle. Check it out." Mitch flexed her impressively toned arm, making her mom laugh and slap her shoulder playfully.

"Oh, Michelle. Go hug your father. He misses you."

Mitch jumped to obey, and her mom fixed her kind gaze on me, holding out her arms as she walked around Mitch's truck.

"Oh Cindy, it's good to see you."

"Hi, Mrs. Kirkpatrick. Thanks for having me."

"Oh, pish. It's an honor. And I'm Stacy."

The blush I was already wearing deepened as she wrapped me in her embrace. When she let me go Mitch and her dad were digging our bags out of the back. Mrs. Kirkpatrick linked her arm in mine. "I hope you're hungry. I made homemade pizza. It's Michelle's favorite."

"I'm starving. Mit, ah, Michelle has told me so many amazing stories about your cooking."

"Oh, you're sweet."

She led me inside to an informally set table and the amazing aroma of garlic and oregano. Her dad dished up slices of the rectangular pie, all while holding a spirited debate with his daughter about the Saturday's Florida-Georgia football game.

It was a little weird hearing my girlfriend exclusively referred to as Michelle, but she fit here. And her parents were unerringly kind to me.

Her father, who insisted I call him Jack, looked across the table at me, pointing towards his daughter. "I can't believe I raised a damn traitor, Cindy. She grew up on Gator football."

"Hey! Cindy's a Bulldogs fan, too!"

"She's from Georgia, Michelle. That's understandable. You though," he shook his head.

I smiled and leaned over to Stacy. "Are they going to be okay watching the game together Saturday?"

"Oh, sweetie, they're always like this. They love it. He was just miserable when she went away to college."

They continued their spirited debate throughout dinner and into the kitchen as they cleaned up after the meal. Stacy led me into their living room, sitting down next to me on the sofa, holding my hand in both of hers.

"Now, tell me all about how you two met."

I grinned and told the story, listening to the easy banter and laughter coming from the kitchen.

"So she's a good girlfriend? Makes you happy?"

"She's the best. Always smiling and making me laugh. I get too intense sometimes; she reminds me life isn't all about Tennis and studying."

"I wished she'd studied a little more in High School, sometimes."

"She's working hard now. You'd be proud of her."

"I am, but I don't think I'm the one she wants to make proud."

"Her dad?"

Stacy laughed. "No, silly." She put her hand on my knee and shook it. "You. When you first met, all she could talk about was how smart her new friend was. That, and how pretty she was. She wants you to be proud of her."

I blushed, not able to think of anything to say.

"Now, we're going out for a nice dinner Saturday night. Did you bring anything nice to wear?"

I grimaced. "Not really. Michelle didn't say anything about it."

She patted my leg, looking absolutely gleeful. "That's okay, dear. We'll go shopping Saturday morning. My treat."

I heard the sound of the dishwasher start, and Mitch and her dad made their way into their family room, turning on the Thursday night NFL game. Stacy and I joined them, and I sat next to my girlfriend, who put her arm around me as I leaned against her. Her mom worked on a knitting project in her chair, and I just took in the happiness of this family being together, and I wished, someday, that I could be a part of something like this.

"Your parents are really going to let us stay together?" I was changing for bed in Mitch's room as she did the same.

"Yeah, sure. We share a bed every night at school. What's the difference?"

"There'd be a difference to my parents."

"My parents are pretty cool. I mean, they adapted to the whole butch lesbian thing, so I think they can handle me cuddling through the night with my girlfriend."

I laughed and we climbed between the sheets, sharing a few soft goodnight kisses before I settled in as the little spoon. "Your parents are great though."

"Yeah. I got lucky."

"Your mom wants to take me shopping Saturday."

"I thought she might."

***

The next day Mitch took me around to all of her old stomping grounds. We hit some balls on the courts where her dad had taught her to play, and had lunch at her favorite ice cream parlor. It wasn't the healthiest lunch.

At two thirty we arrived at her old High School, just before dismissal. She stopped into half a dozen rooms, always receiving the same exuberant response from the teachers inside. She proudly introduced me as her girlfriend each time, and I got to hear several great stories about a younger, less inhibited Mitch Kirkpatrick, if you can believe that.