Defusing A Bombbykrr1957©
This story deals with themes of coercion and reluctant participation is a lesbian setting. If you think that you might find such material offensive please try another story.
I had done tours of duty in both Afghanistan and Iraq but neither had scared me as much as this. It was not too late. I could still walk away and no one would think any the worse of me.
I checked myself in the hall mirror one last time. The GI Jane hairstyle had grown out and I had almost forgotten how lustrous, and just how dark, my hair was. It was still short but now expensively styled and it was hard to remember the last time I had worn full makeup. I had not been in a relationship for over two years.
My mother had been a minor film star in her native Italy and I had inherited her natural beauty. In some ways the army regime of cropped hair and no makeup actually enhanced my looks but the nature of my job and the considerations of my rank were enough to put most men off.
Oddly, there had been overtures made by two female officers at different times but, whilst I was flattered, I harboured no curiosity about a same sex relationship.
The doorbell rang again, this time a little more impatiently, and I took a deep breath. They had offered a hotel suite but that only made it feel more sordid; I elected to use my own home to give myself something familiar to cling on to.
I opened the door, not quite knowing what to expect but certainly not this.
I am five feet nine, in stockinged feet, but, in her heels she stood a couple of inches taller. At a guess she was five or six years younger than me, certainly no more than mid-twenties, but she had an air of sophistication.
I had laughed out loud when they asked me if I preferred blonde or brunette, as if it could possibly make a difference, but they had decided on the light haired option. She reminded me of someone, someone in Basra, but then I realised that I was thinking back to a film.
I had watched it in an army marquee, the only woman in an audience of thirty, all sat battle ready. It was an old film; a comedy about a man who finds a magic mask which transforms him into a green-skinned super hero. She reminded me of the girl in the film.
"Selina, you must be Christine..."
She was well spoken, which was a relief, but it took me a second to respond to the false name that I had chosen for myself. She held out her hand, not to be shaken, but as if she expected me to kiss it.
I stood to one side to let her in.
"Where do you want to do this? The bedroom or living room?"
For a moment she ignored the question and looked around my humble abode almost disdainfully which, given the circumstances, was a bit rich.
"It's up to you."
I indicated the living room and she walked through. It was a sparsely furnished room which was hardly surprising given that I had only lived there for days at a time over the past five years.
"I prefer to read."
"I brought a couple of DVD's, just to set the mood, but no matter."
She took in the simple furniture including my one indulgence an overlarge leather sofa set in front of the fireplace. I would often fall asleep over a book and I find it nice just to stretch out where I find myself.
"Can I get you anything? A drink?"
She looked down at the wine bottle already open on the table.
"Wine would be nice."
I filled a fresh glass, before replenishing my own, and handed it to her.
"How do we go about this?"
She did not answer immediately. She sat on the sofa and took a sip from her glass.
"Well let's start with you undressing for me."
It was not what I was expecting and my discomfort must have shown. She smiled
"No need to be shy."
I had been undressing in front of women, and men come to that, throughout my career, war zones are no respecters of privacy, but I had never felt this awkward.
I slowly reached for the zip of my dress and, once again, asked myself why I had made the effort. I could have easily done this straight out of the shower wearing a robe. It might have been more appropriate.
The dress fell to the floor and I was left standing in my new bra and pants. They were an expensive acquisition but I hoped I did not come across as trying too hard.
"Very nice...now the rest."
I took off the bra to reveal my breasts for her cool appraisal.
"I love your nipples....chocolaty."
I had my mothers Mediterranean complexion and my nipples were a contrasting shade of brown. I was not quite as well endowed as she had been but that was probably no bad thing given my active lifestyle.
I slipped out of my panties and resisted the temptation to stand with my hands in front of me. Instead, I stood with hands on hips, perhaps in an unconscious effort to seize the initiative.
I am proud of my body, a slim frame toned by many hours of exercise but not enough to threaten my femininity.
She looked me up and down her eyes finally settling on my sex. I had shaved just before she arrived and I was still a little red.
"You should try waxing."
I was not sure if it was a suggestion or an insult but I had no time to dwell on it. She stood up from the sofa.
"Come and undress me."
This was the moment. I had been through it in my mind a hundred times but reality always has a way of finding you out. I moved closer to her and she turned her back to present her zip.
The blue cocktail dress looked expensive and I suspected that it was a haut couture copy but, as I unfastened it, I saw the Gaultier label. I am no follower of fashion but I was suitably impressed.
She stepped out of it, laid it carefully on the coffee table, and then stood to be admired. She had flawless pale skin but was a little too busty to be a catwalk model. At that moment she put me in mind of a bride. She was wearing a white camisole and matching panties along with white stockings and suspenders.
"What do you think?"
It was true, she was a very sexy young woman, but it did not make things any easier.
She sat back down again and I could not help but notice that her nipples had come to two prominent points which had nothing to do with the ambient temperature. She smiled as she saw where I was looking and then she reached out for a scatter cushion which she dropped at her feet.
"Come and make yourself comfortable."
I had to will myself to move forward. At the outset I had not wanted any preamble but things were moving too fast. I took a hasty sip of wine and then knelt on the cushion.
"You're very beautiful."
She reached forward and gently stroked my hair and I flinched. She was only trying to help me relax but I did not welcome the intimacy.
She raised an eyebrow and then shrugged slightly as if it was of no great moment. Then, almost perfunctorily, she slipped off her camisole.
I was kneeling upright, at a level with her breasts, and, as if reading my mind
"Totally natural I assure you"
She was a lucky young woman to be so blessed. They were perfectly shaped, with a nice uplift, crowned with coral pink nipples which, at that moment, stood out rigidly. I could admire them in a purely aesthetic way but no picture or sculpture could convey their vitality. Against all my instincts I felt an urge to reach out and touch them.
She smiled knowingly and I wondered just how many others had fallen under her spell. As I watched she took a nipple between her finger and thumb and teased it to even greater prominence.
I wished that I had had time for a little more wine. Of course, there was nothing to stop me from pausing for another drink but I knew that, if I put this off, there was a chance that I would not go through with it at all.
She released her nipple and raised her breast invitingly on the flat of her hand. For a second or two I could do nothing but stare at her immaculately manicured nails with their deep lustre which could only be achieved by the patient application of several coats of expensive varnish.
I knew that these idle thoughts were simply a way of delaying the inevitable and I told myself to get on with it.
"Gently now, don't rush."
I had taken her nipple between my pursed lips and sucked. I was surprised that something so firm could be so sensitive.
I used my tongue to confirm that it was, indeed, as rough textured as it seemed but my anatomical approach was not appreciated.
"Just do the things you like having done to you."
As she said it I felt my own nipples tingle and I tried to be a little more creative. I ran my tongue slowly around her clearly defined areola noting the boundary between smooth flesh and surprisingly heavy dimples. This was more to her liking and I felt her relax.
Now that her nipple was wet it felt different again. It was as if it was recoiling from my tongue and it seemed natural to suck gently to bring it back under control.
"That's better. Now you're turning me on."
I felt a momentary swelling of pride but then remembered exactly what all of this was about. I continued for a minute or two before she coaxed me to move on to her other breast.
I was obviously learning, as she gave a sigh of approval, but I needed to take another step. I took the teat between my teeth and paused. Few men, in my experience, really understand a woman's body but I had been lucky enough to meet one or two. I love that moment that comes just before a gentle bite where the pleasure teeters on the edge of pain.
This is where I held her and she arched her back a little to meet me. I slowly nipped at her and was immediately transported back to school where I would idly bite the eraser at the top of a pencil. The resilience of her flesh was astonishing but she guided me.
"Yes...yes...now...use your tongue..."
With her nipple tightly clamped I brushed the tip with my tongue and instinct brought my thumb and finger to her other breast to apply a complementary pressure.
We remained locked together and it felt good, for the present, to have control but that was about to change.
"Enough...you're getting me hot and bothered.
I pulled away to see that her nipples looked quite angry and the tops of her breasts were flushed red.
"Take off my panties..."
I had to go to my haunches to do it and there was something in that simple act of obeisance that jarred with me. I would never go down on a man on my knees. I was reluctant at the best of times and, if it happened at all, it happened in bed with me on top directing events.
I found that my hands were trembling as I reached forward and I could not meet her eyes knowing for certain that I would find a look of amusement.
Her panties were expensively silky and I took hold of them carefully before slowly drawing them down her legs which she brought together to help me out. I reached back blindly to put them on the table for my eyes were fixed on her knees.
She allowed the tension to build for a couple of seconds and then she slowly opened her legs once more. It was theatrically done but she did it with an ease borne of long practice.
With her legs bounding my body I could do nothing but stare at her sex. She had an incredibly pronounced mound. It was perfectly depilated and the light caught it as if it had been anointed with oil.
I have no time for pornography and I had never been this close to another woman's sex; the only frame of reference I could use was my own body. My inner labia are quite prominent and clearly visible. Hers were hidden but gave the impression that they might burst forth at any moment.
For the same reason my clitoris sits quite deep but I had the feeling that hers would break the surface with little effort. I imagined that simple, every day, routines would serve to stimulate her and I wondered if that would be a gift or a curse. I would never admit to anyone the number of times I have pressed myself against the machine as it goes through its spin cycle.
"Do you like it?"
I answered "Yes" reflexively but found that it was true. I have no idea what research had been done to choose this particular young woman but she had a beauty that overcame guilt. I was left with the feeling that anyone who was exposed to her would have succumbed.
I leaned inwards conscious of my pulse pounding at my temples. She had used perfume on her thighs. It was subtle but, once I was aware of it, I could not ignore its musky presence.
I pulled up short, inches away, as she gently ran a fingertip along the length of her sex. This released a new scent, familiar from my own fingers, but it complemented her perfume almost perfectly to form a potent, heady, hybrid. For a second or two I wondered if it had been designed exclusively for her. Were such things possible?
Her finger pressed a little deeper, adding more esters, and then she took it away altogether. Her sex had opened beneath her touch to reveal a glistening pink interior and I had to swallow to clear my mouth
My senses were being assailed one at a time each falling to her raw sexuality. My nostrils were flared, my eyes were fixed, and I could not rid myself of the feeling that it was all calculated.
She let the tension build, knowing that I was facing the greatest challenge of all, and then, with a perceptive smile she softly spoke the words that I dreaded to hear.
I knew that if I had, at any time, suggested to my parents that I was gay they would have given me their unqualified support and so it was distressing that it was their faces that came to mind as I bent under a heavy sense of shame.
I must have hesitated for a number of seconds but for her it was of no consequence. If I demurred she lost nothing and so she simply waited letting me wrestle with my own anguish.
I held my breath and braced myself. I drew nearer still and forced my tongue between my lips touching the very tip of it to her sex.
It was warm and pliant and I slipped just a little way inside. Having taken the first step I took a breath but, at such close quarters, her scent was even more intoxicating and with it came her taste.
It was sharp on my tongue, not at all what I was expecting, and I slipped out. Gathering myself, I tried again. I pressed a little more boldly and went deeper.
The inner heat of her came as a shock, and I wondered if this was common, but the taste I found here was altogether different. It was much richer, a little musty but not unpleasantly so. It was now more in keeping with the scent that enveloped me.
I stayed still, assimilating the sensory input, but I knew that more was expected of me. I began to slowly lick along the length of her labia bending my head to start each long stroke from the base of her sex. .
Her labia seemed to cling to my tongue in a welcoming embrace and there was something soothing in what I was doing. I kept it up for some minutes and I was able to detach myself from reality but when I felt her body beginning to tremble almost imperceptibly I realised that I was getting to her.
Without knowing why I plunged my tongue deep inside and she gave a heartfelt groan. She was so wet that she leaked and I found myself swallowing. I wanted to dislike it but there was something indefinable something just a little worrying.
I tried to refocus on the mechanics of what I was doing. I moved upwards and she brought her hand down in anticipation. Using two fingers she pressed herself open to reveal the neat bud of her clitoris.
I had never given much thought to the size of my clitoris. It was appreciably larger but hers but clearly no more sensitive. I licked with just the tip of my tongue and she started to moan almost immediately.
I licked slowly in tight circles but it was hard to work by feel alone. I was guided by the tight hood which helped me to keep in bounds.
My technique may have been lacking but the fact that I was an ingénue must have been a turn on for her. She started to raise her hips to meet me and urged me on but I found it hard to stay with her.
It was the obvious, natural, thing to do, had I surrendered to my instincts, but I had not been able to let go altogether. Now, I pursed my lips at the apex of her sex and sucked gently whilst darting my tongue rapidly.
She immediately gave up any pretence of control. She continued to hold herself open but her free hand found its way to the back of my head and she held me tightly as her body started to jerk spasmodically.
I felt attuned to her orgasm. I was pleased not just because I had been able to do it but, in some way, I shared her exultation. As soon as this thought was formed I felt a knot of fear in my stomach.
As her climax ebbed she relaxed her grip on my head and then released me altogether. I rolled my head on my shoulders, to ease my neck muscles, and shaped to get up but she brought me up short.
"We're not finished yet."
I felt a flash of anger. I had come through the ordeal, and that was the goal that I had originally set for myself, but, without knowing it, she was right. I had to know how far things could go.
Her sex looked different now. Her clitoris had retreated to its shell but her inner lips were still slightly open reminding me of petals about to draw together for the night.
"Lick me gently."
Now that the heat of the moment behind us it was harder to bring myself to do it. I gave a silent count to three and willed myself forward.
Moisture had cooled her sex, making it less edifying, but the feel of my tongue was enough to warm her quickly. I worked my way over her mound, wondering how it could be so taut and smooth, but she wanted more.
"Let me feel it inside."
Oddly, it took a little more effort this time to broach the portal but it was to find that the empty well had been replenished. Her juices flowed over my tongue once more and her taste filled my mouth. As it did so I felt, for a second, just a little light-headed as if a drug had been administered.
I stayed still with my tongue rooted and I was intrigued to feel her squeezing at me. This was no random contraction but a controlled rippling that seemed to pull me even further in only to flood me with more moisture.
It was certainly a unique talent but, more than that, it served to arouse her. Over the next few minutes she grew noticeably hotter and as, from time to time, her thighs brushed my face I was aware of a fine sheen of perspiration.
I was little more than a spectator as she held me close once more and I was helpless as she stimulated her clitoris by using the bridge of my nose. She was unhurried but I was becoming ever more uncomfortable.
My knees and lower back were complaining and I knew that my tongue, just a little numb at that point, was going to hurt. I was also getting a little red in the face. As she grew more excited she had began to squeeze with her thighs to the extent that I was struggling to breathe properly.
Finally, she squeezed and did not let go. My ears were pressed in a ringing silence and my nostrils were pinched closed. I took a desperate breath but only to fill my lungs with moisture laden air.
I reached the point where I was about to fight her off but she had judged her moment. A sudden, painful, tightening heralded the onset of her second climax and, somewhere far off, I heard her crying out.
For a few seconds I was a rag doll wrenched by the pleasurable palpitations which were racking her body and then it was over. She unclenched her legs and set me free as she slumped on the sofa breathing heavily.
Nothing was said as we both recovered. Finally she sat up and straightened her hair.
"You did well for your first time. It was really nice."
I almost thanked her but thought better of it. She seemed unfazed and reached down to touch my face.