Whilst this story does contain scenes of sex between two women I feel that it is more about how the writer describes the experience and her personal feelings about what is happening, which is why I chose to place it in this category. I hope you enjoy it.
Friday 14th February
I have had the oddest day...
For a start it's Valentine's Day and that's usually a total let down whether you're with someone or not. Last year I spent the whole day waiting and hoping I'd get a card or flowers or something from a secret admirer -- hah. Likely! This year I spent the whole day waiting for Tony to turn up.
Then at 3.30 this afternoon I got a text.
sory babe. cant do this ne more. U r 2 intense 4 me. C u round.
Charming. Managed to piss me off in about four different ways.
1) Badly spelt
2) Used 'txt' abbreviation
3) Called me 'babe' -- do I look like a pig in a wig?
4) The fucker dumped me! Yeah, it's been dull recently and I was thinking of dumping him, but I thought I'd give him one more chance. Then he dumps me.
5) On Valentine's Day
6) By TEXT.
OK, so that was six things that pissed me off, but right now I'm sticking with pissed off, because the alternatives are hurt pride and wounded dignity and I could really do without those right now.
Marie totally understood when I told her about it, I barely needed to explain at all. It wasn't so much hurt feelings, because I think it was dead in the water quite a long time ago. It's the more the fact that I had decided to give him one more chance and he throws it back in my face -- and blames me! Too intense my arse, I'll give him intense.
Anyway, so I phoned Marie and even though I told her I didn't need her to come over she came anyway. I don't think she was particularly enjoying spending the day by herself either. It was so cute, she'd made me a card with a bee on the front of it with 'Bee mine!' written on it and scribbled something in it about not needing men.
I think that's when I started crying. Not because of bloody Tony particularly, I just felt so bruised and battered by life -- romance especially. I don't think I've ever had a really romantic Valentine's day or even a really romantic relationship and a day that celebrates love and coupledom is pretty gruelling when you're not sure you've ever been in love or been truly loved.
Marie was wonderful; she always is. She gave me a big hug and just sat and held me while I cried -- and it was proper sobbing, all red eyes, blotchy cheeks and snuffling against her shoulder.
I kept apologising for being such a misery, but she wouldn't have any of it, even though she's always the one scraping me off the ground when something goes wrong. When I got fired Marie was the one who went through the papers with me and helped me rewrite my resume. When I had that truly hideous flatmate and had to find a new place where I could live on my own Marie was the one who came with me to vet all the ghastly hovels and when I found this place it was Marie who lent me an old shirt and helped me paint and pick out curtains.
I apologised again and said stuff like, 'what would I do without you?'
I pulled back a bit then to smile at her. She smiled back a soft, kind smile which made my eyes well up again, so I leant forward and gave her a big kiss on the cheek to try to demonstrate how grateful I was.
As I went towards her she shied away a little, her eyes widening with an expression I couldn't interpret, then my lips touched the soft, dusty skin of her cheek: I could smell the light, flowery fragrance of her face powder and the faintest whiff of mint from the gum she had been chewing. I had barely made contact and registered all this when she made a soft strangled noise in the back of her throat.
I pulled back and looked at her. Her face, normally so serene and kind, was strained and her eyes were glistening. I asked her what was wrong, but she only pressed her lips tightly together, shook her head and wouldn't answer me.
She turned her face away and when I tried to turn it back so I could look at her, she kept her eyes downcast. Now I was really concerned; I had never seen Marie so upset and I had no idea what was wrong. I kept my hand on her cheek and ducked down so that I could make eye contact with her.
Tears spilled out from beneath her lashes and trickled down her cheeks. I tried to wipe them away, but I was almost as upset as she was by then. I begged her to at least look at me and, finally, she did. She looked beautiful, even with her eyes all red and her mascara smudged; tears glistening on her lashes.
We sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other. My cheeks were tickling from the tears and I needed to sniff, but she looked as if she was going to say something and I didn't want to ruin the moment. Her mouth opened momentarily, but she couldn't seem to form the words and she froze with her lips parted.
Seconds dragged on like hours and I frantically scanned her face for any clues while she fixed me with this sad, hopeless look. I still had my palm against the side of her face, so I pulled her in closer to me so I could give her a cuddle and then -- and this is really weird and I'm still not sure why I didn't freak out -- she put her lips against mine.
For a moment I was totally stunned and didn't move or do anything. One of my closest friends had just kissed me, her lips were all damp and soft and still pressed against mine and instead of yelling, 'Get off!' and running out of there I started to say something. I opened my mouth to speak and I suppose she thought I was kissing her back, because she opened her mouth some more and slid her tongue between my lips.
It was so strange because something out of my control just started happening and I let it. My eyes drifted closed and I just sank into the kiss, allowing it to happen. Her lips were so plump and soft, and her skin was smooth and didn't scratch against mine. When I moved my hand from the side of her face to the back of her head my fingers got all tangled in her long hair.
We stayed like that for the longest time, lips slippery with tears and kissing, tongues shyly darting between the other's lips. It felt like my first kiss all over again, only so much more romantic and sensual. My lips were tingling and parts of my body which had always been slightly numb when I was kissing Tony and that idiot Mike and whats-his-face at the club that time -- well, those parts were all springing into life and I was so aware of my body and her body...
I was so lost in the kiss that when she moved her hand to my waist I barely noticed and when that arm slid around me and pulled me in tighter I just enjoyed the feeling of closeness. Then she started making these little noises -- soft sighs and moans -- very quietly through the kissing.
I felt really uncomfortable then and it brought me back to what we were doing -- I was kissing my friend! My female friend! But I couldn't think of a way to get out of the kiss without just wrenching myself away and I didn't want to upset her, so I kept kissing her and then she touched my breast.
She wasn't like Tony, she didn't grab at me and start squeezing, she just very gently ran the flat of her hand across my breast and my nipple sprang into life and I moaned. I heard myself and nearly pulled away, but then she started kissing me more passionately and forcefully.
She thrust her tongue into my mouth and her lips became firm and insistent. I just... couldn't resist it. I started echoing all the little noises she'd been making and tried putting my hand on her bottom.
She pushed me off the sofa then, still holding onto me, still kissing me. We were lying on the floor, me on my back, her on top of me, the whole of her body pressed against me and we were kissing almost savagely.
My skirt had ridden up my thighs leaving my legs bare and when she ran her fingers up the naked flesh I cried out. She pulled back as she took off her cardigan and smiled at me as I watched her.
Her pale reddish blonde hair stood out around her head like a dandelion clock, glowing from the sunlight streaming through the window behind her, all the curls rumpled from my hands.
She looked incredible with her eyes all smoky from smudged makeup and her lips a rich vermilion from our kissing. I was struck by how sexy she looked and then by how very, very odd it was to think of another girl as sexy.
She started to lean back down to kiss me then, but I reached up and tried to tug her t-shirt over her head. Then she was in her bra and I was running my hands over the smooth skin on her back and fumbling with the catch of her bra. I never realised how tricky those things are to undo if you're not wearing the bloody thing!
As the hook unfastened and her bra slid forwards down her arms and onto my chest, I flushed with embarrassment as I looked at her breasts.
They're smaller than mine and pointy, with very small areolae and nipples. She had a little brown mole just next to one of them and I stared at it as she held herself raised up over me, her tits dangling lewdly.
I forced myself to look her in the eye, then I reached up and cupped one in my right hand. It sat there all heavy, the nipple hardening against my palm and I could feel my own breasts responding the same way.
I tightened my hold on it and squeezed, loving the way her flesh felt in my hands. She leaned down to kiss me again, then, and I moved my hand round to her back again, letting it rest in the hollow of her back just above the waistband of her jeans.
We kissed until my lips felt sore and numb all at once, pawing and grabbing at bits of each other's body. I got all assertive and rolled her over onto her back and watched the way her tits slid sideways, all the weight and flesh of them mounding into shallow hemispheres topped with her swollen nipples. I bent my head and sucked one into my mouth, it felt strange doing that to another woman, but I was so turned on.
When she started pulling my top over my head I barely noticed, but it felt odd sitting astride her narrow hips with just my bra on. When she reached behind me and unsnapped the hook easily and my bra fell away I felt hideously exposed and vulnerable, the soft skin of my own nipples feeling far too fragile to be uncovered like this.
She copied me and cupped her hands over my tits then, but they weren't bit enough to hold them and I spilled out over the edges. The warmth of her touch was so exciting after the vulnerability of exposure and I let her massage them and tug on them.
When I leant forward to kiss her again and my breasts swung down and touched hers it was as if an electric shock passed through both of us. The softness and heat of our breasts touching: bare skin to bare skin it was... indescribable.
I was utterly carried away by then. I'd pushed all my thoughts of weirdness away and finally realised how fluid sexuality was. Memories drifted into my mind as we kissed and pawed each other: of naked bodies I'd tried not to be obvious about looking at in the changing rooms, about school-girl friends I'd had 'crushes' on, about snippets of fantasies which had come to me when I touched myself late at night.
I've just started crying again. I feel unsure of myself - does this mean I'm gay? I don't know if I want that life for myself and now Marie isn't here it feels so abstract and scary.
When we were naked together, lips joined together and our arms wrapped around each other, it was so simple; there was just this overwhelming lust all mixed up with the love I felt for her as a friend.
When she ran her hand over the round of my belly and brushed across my mound I closed my eyes and just concentrated on the sensation. It was so heightened, like when you've been eating something very cold, then kiss someone and the heat of their mouth seems astonishing.
She took her hand away then and I opened my eyes to see what she was doing. As I watched, she placed her finger tips on the inside of my knee and traced them gently up the pale flesh there. I started to close my eyes again, but she told me to look at her. She said that she wanted me to be sure, to be fully present and not just 'allowing' her to touch me.
I felt my face heating up as I blushed, because that was a little bit what I had been doing. Perhaps if I just lay back and enjoyed it then, if I changed my mind later, I could blame it all on her. It wasn't a conscious thought, but as soon as she said that I knew I had been thinking it and I felt ashamed.
I kept my eyes on hers, then, and stayed fixed on her face as she trailed light touches up and down my body, always just avoiding the places I really wanted her to touch.
Her face was set in concentration, her lower lip caught up in her teeth. I smiled when I saw it, she always did that when she was focused on something that took all her attention; sometimes she stuck her tongue out a little bit.
When she did stick her tongue out I laughed and when she looked at me all confused I couldn't explain what was so funny, so I just drew her down to me and kissed her some more.
Our bodies were pressed together now and I was so involved in the kissing that when she pressed the tip of her forefinger between the lips of my pussy (oh my god, I'm blushing again just writing it) and touched me at the sensitive bit there I was completely taken aback.
I lay tense and rigid, looking at her, while her finger slid back and forth in the slippery folds of my pussy. Tremors and tingles were running through me and I was making little incoherent noises. When she pushed two of her fingers right inside me I groaned.
I felt really silly making so much noise, I'd never been so uninhibited before, but every time I moaned she responded with a moan or sigh of her own or a little smile and it fed back on itself until we were both being very vocal.
She crooked her fingers and they pressed hard against the wall of my... well there was this odd sensation and it felt strange and pressured, but then she did it again and again and it started to translate into this really strong pleasurable feeling. Her thumb was held just over my clit while she was doing this and each time she crooked her fingers it moved slightly and when I started bucking my hips it rubbed back and forth across me.
If I'd thought about how silly and slutty I looked lying on my back, my legs apart, bucking against her hand I would have stopped immediately and never taken my clothes off again. I've never behaved like that with someone else there, only by myself and I didn't think I'd be able to let go, you know?
All I remember is the glorious sensation of it, how much I wanted her thumb to press against me more and her fingers to push into me harder: deeper. Our mouths were locked together now, my arms tightly wrapped around her neck and we flicked the tips of our tongues against each other.
The tingling feeling was building up inside me now, coalescing in the very pit of my belly, gathering itself like a wild cat's muscles as it's about to spring. Every ounce of sensation was concentrated on the rubbing of her fingers and the flicking of her tongue; the rest of the world disappeared and then I was shaking and convulsing, clinging onto her and coming so hard.
As my body went all limp and floppy, I kept my face pressed against her neck, too embarrassed to look at her. She kissed my cheek and my ear, making shushing noises to me as I panted and shook in her arms. She reached up to the sofa and pulled the throw off it to cover us and we lay down together on the rug, all wrapped up in the soft fabric.
I fell asleep pressed against her body, both of us completely naked. When I woke up she wasn't there any more. I had my head on a cushion and beside my face she had placed the little homemade Valentine's card.
I don't know why she left, but I hope that she comes back. I felt so silly and ashamed when I started to write this, shame all mixed up with some ridiculous pride about having done something rather more daring than my usual antics, but now that I've finished and I've run through everything that's happened today I just feel so sad that she left. Why would she leave me when we'd just made love like that? Because that's one thing I'm sure of... we were making love and I want to tell her so.