Counting To Eleven

"Sharp eyes. Yeah, it was... sort of an accident. Kind of thing that happens when you're nineteen and trying to convince yourself you're not really gay. Also when both people involved are a little too drunk to use a condom properly."

"Whoops."

"Best part? Telling Mum and Dad I was pregnant. And Dad's first words were 'well, at least you're not a lesbian.' 'Well, actually, Dad...'"

"Oh, ow."

"They're mostly okay with it now. But it took us a while to get there. Anyway, I need a toilet break. Be right back."

"Go ahead."

By the time she got back I'd undressed and was sitting back on the bed, propped against a couple of pillows. "All good?" I asked.

"All good. So...?"

"I like a bit of attention to my breasts. Lips and tongue and just a little nibbling."

"Of course." She climbed onto the bed, lowered her lips to my breast, but just before she made contact I caught her and pulled her up for an impromptu kiss on the lips.

"Now, back to what you were doing."

She knew her stuff. Dainty little strokes of her tongue, and the warm pressure of her lips, and a pleasant suction as she drew my breast into her mouth. She caught my nipple between her teeth, pulled back a little—enough to be firm, not painful—and her tongue played over the top of it.

"Mmm. That's it." I was stroking her hair with one hand (all the better to hold you there, my dear) and I slid the other between us, found her breasts again, fondled and cupped them. Gently this time; I suspected they'd be bruised from my rough handing, and I didn't want to distract her from her business.

As she suckled on me, she slipped one hand downwards, but before she could get where she was going I caught her by the wrist and pulled her away.

"Mmph?" She still had her mouth full.

"Some other time, that would be lovely. But tonight you're going to use your mouth, and only your mouth." I stroked her hair again, and then I pressed downwards, my meaning clear. "You can use your hands to hold this in place." And I handed her the makeshift dam, helping to position it where it needed to be, and pushed her down. "Get to it."

"Yhff, mth Lmmda."

Kate lapped at me like a cat at a bowl of milk, every flick of her tongue giving me a little shiver of pleasure, bringing the blood to my face and my chest and my groin. At one point she tried to pull back and tease, but I wasn't having any of that; I pulled her hard against me and crooked my leg around her, foot planted firmly in her back. "That's it. Lick, little kitty. Hard, now." One hand on her forehead, one at the back of the neck, and her tongue fluttering and wriggling and pressing.

I held back as long as I could, breathing out to take the edge off every time I felt the shudders rising and threatening to overwhelm me. But every time, the tension built a little higher, until at last I let the waves take me. "Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, yeeeeees..." And I crushed her against me, ground my pubis against her mouth, until I was well and truly done. Then I let her go and we lay on the bed side by side.

My eyes were beginning to close when Kate spoke. "Linda? I know this was just sex, but you can stay the night if you like."

"I was going to ask. I'd feel like a bad top if I abandoned you right after." Not to mention the top-drop I always seem to get after the first time with a new partner. "Although I'll have to leave early, need to drop by home before I get to school."

"Sure. I'm a heavy sleeper, if you can't wake me, feel free to let yourself out."

Not long after, I drifted off to sleep, still pleasantly tingling, hoping Kate might be up for a repeat one of these days. At five a.m. my alarm went off and I shut it off quickly, then padded out to the bathroom for a quick shower before leaving.

And that's how I found out where Kate kept the crocodile.

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My story "A Stringed Instrument" is eligible for the 2013 Clitorides Awards in the "Best Gay/Lesbian/etc" category. Voting runs March 1-April 14; see my user profile for a link.

The copperhead incident happened to somebody I knew.