Girly Girl

All characters in this story are adults.

As a younger man, when I spoke about my sexual fantasies, what I saw in front of me at the moment would not have even been considered. And how could it? My influences were porn, so I thought hey, let's get two women into bed and have them fuck me. Not exactly the most stunning of fantasies, I know.

But this?

Oh my god.

I met Jasmine about nine months ago. I'm on a local non-profit theater company's board of directors. It was a thankless job some of the time, especially because of ongoing and seemingly never-ending drama. Most of that drama surrounded the theater's massive annual fundraising gala. It was one of those events where the young and old movers and shakers, patrons of the arts, and the bored-with-money would attend to dress to the nines, see and be seen, and oh by the way, raise some money for our theater so that we can keep up our productions.

I had an ancillary role on one of the committees for this event, but most importantly, I was there in my tuxedo, and mixed and mingled with the best of them. I'm not the best at it, to be honest, but I can do it pretty effectively. I was speaking with a 70-something couple for about twenty minutes. I saw people join our conversation and then leave, and was satisfied that the couple would open their checkbook later and donate heavily. They were expected to, of course; the past two years they'd given $10,000 and we were hoping for a bit more this year. I would not learn until later that I was successful only in ensuring the same donation amount.

My mouth was a bit dry from blowing smoke and kissing ass. I wandered over to the bar. As I did, I saw a woman standing there. She had her left leg up, propping it on the lowest ring of the barstool, catching her heel on it. She wore a high cut evening dress on her leg, and her current position exposed that long and supple leg, showing off the stockings that she wore. Her dress was cut tight and even I saw at a distance the remarkable swell of her chest. Now, I don't want to say remarkable as in she had massive boobs or anything, but she wasn't flat-chested. She had breasts and she wasn't afraid to let anyone know.

Her head turned as she sensed my approach. Her dress was black, her stockings black, and her hair matched that black. I don't think I'd seen quite a raven-haired beauty like that before. Yet her skin was fairly pale, and she wore black framed, square-rimmed glasses that seemed to add a sparkle to her green eyes, and her lipstick was a bright, fire-engine red.

You might say that I was struck dumb by her beauty. She was easily the most alluring woman that I had seen that night, bar none. But she was readily engaged in conversation with a man who was tall, dark and handsome, and clearly had this creature directly in his sights.

She swept her hair back as I approached, and I saw small pearl earrings. Her hand rose to her ear and she tugged on it twice. Her eyes were shifted towards me as she did this. I made one curt nod, and got a drink from the bartender. I took a breath to steady my nerves; cutting in like this was not something that I was strong at doing. But she had requested a save, and so a save I was going to attempt.

"How are you both doing? Enjoying the event? Can I answer any questions for you?" I asked, coming up and asking them quickly, making it seem that I was utterly oblivious to the would-be seduction at hand.

She turned to face me. "It's going wonderfully," she said in a voice that was soft and sultry. A bedroom voice if I ever heard one. "I do wonder, I'm looking for someone on the board of directors. I have questions, you see," she said.

"Oh!" I said, surprised. "Well, I'm on the board. I'm Travis, the treasurer of the Board. How can I help you?" I asked.

She turned to face her man, who's expression was neutral. "Will you excuse me, Will?" she asked.

His expression darkened. "I..."

She patted his hand. "Sweetie, we both know that it wasn't going to happen. Why don't you move along?" she suggested and I heard an icy, commanding note in her voice.

He looked like he'd been slapped, then adopted an amused smirk. "Good luck with...him," he said, finally looking at me and offering that male-to-male judgemental look.

Fuck off, Will, I thought while hiding said thought behind a pleasant smile.

He stomped off, smoke trailing from his ears. She watched, we both did, before her head turned. "Oh thank you," she said with a soft smile. "Arrogant prick," she summarized him in two words.

"There's many of them here, I agree," I said.

"Are you one of them?" she asked with a sweet smile.

"Me? No. I'm pure of heart," I chuckled.

She grinned, her red lips splitting to show pearly white, straight teeth. A bewitching smile if I ever saw one.

In her heels, she was slightly taller than me. She had a curvy body, almost an hourglass shape, and it was hard not to ogle her form. It was a bit off-putting to be looking slightly up into her eyes, but at the same time, I could easily look into those eyes and get lost and lost and lost.

She smiled at my quip. "So, Travis, are you really on the board?" she asked while adopting a more serious tone.

"In fact, I am," I replied. We ended up moving to a quieter place and discussed her situation for about thirty minutes. The long and short of it was that she was one of the three major suppliers of costumes for the theater's operations, especially the more risque ones that came through town. She had some complaints that she wanted to voice, so I took out my phone and tapped notes while listening to her. She still made her twenty-five hundred dollar contribution, figuring that it would be repaid in kind.

The business concluded, we moved onto other less pressing topics. I asked her about her shop. She expounded on it for a while and we sat and talked for the rest of the event. Like I said, I was bewitched.

What I didn't know then, but know now, is that her reaction to me was identical to mine. Our conversation grew more flirtatious, not overly so, but we definitely flirted hard.

We exchanged numbers and promised to talk to each other. The following morning I paced around my apartment, trying to decide upon the optimal time to initiate contact. I did around twelve-thirty, and the instant reply I got suggested to me that she had been eagerly awaiting my text. We texted for ten minutes, spoke on the phone for another twenty, and agreed to meet for a drink.

We left that bar after six hours together and went directly to her apartment. There, we joined in bed and found that we shared a physical chemistry that was as strong as the emotional one that we seemed to be forging.

It might be trite and a cliche to say that it was love at first sight, but it was. And as it turned out, it was that way for her, too. Whatever it was that we shared, it was instant, deep and strong.

Jasmine had gone to college for clothing design. She was an artist at designing clothes. Her first major jobs in the city were clothing and costume design at both of the major local non-profit theaters in the city. She had gone on to develop her own line of clothing, and opened a store to sell her wares. Her second floor was her costume design shop and her first floor was her retail store, and while she wasn't making a mint, her two endeavors were both very profitable.

She was heavily tattooed, with a right arm sleeve and several more adorning her body in areas that only I was (currently) privy to seeing. She had a rather extensive sexual history but I dismissed that. I was not really the jealous sort of man. I did not always want to hear about her exploits, but I also understood that she'd had a past. I had one, too, and it turned out that mine was a little more adventurous than most of her previous lovers. I had a seven-month relationship with a girl in college that had a strong BDSM tint to it. That had enticed Jas and she probed that relationship the deepest. We had switched, that girl and me, and there were nights where I was the Master and nights where she was the Mistress.

I had also admitted the one sexual act in my life that I had thought I would never voice aloud to another human. I had carried on a short-lived but intense homosexual tryst with a next-door neighbor in my apartment building. It was all oral but I openly told Jasmine that I had enjoyed it. This was in response to her telling me that she had enjoyed three lesbian lovers. So we were at least somewhat tolerant of bisexuality and both of us had a bit of interest in BDSM.

Now, over time I learned how "girly girl" that Jasmine truly was. She loved the feminine. Nothing quite got her as excited as a woman coming into her shop who wanted to go full femme - the sleek dress designed to attract attention, the slinky lingerie to draw her man. For Jas, that was her moth to a flame moment; it didn't happen often, but when she got to her apartment after such a moment, she was walking on air and told me all about it. It was no surprise to anyone that her shop was the lesbian destination for shopping.

And really, Jas was very feminine all of the time. She did not go out casually in sweats and a tee-shirt. Oh no. She never once, in the nine months I knew her, stepped out of her apartment looking anything but chic, stylish and feminine. The prior fall we had gone to a couple of fall festivals, and she had worn tight jeans that hugged her curves, boots, a tight flannel that was tied low on her belly and a fancy red bandana in her hair. I mean, even going to a fall festival the woman cut a look that made men stare at her, then look at me as their faces went thirteen shades of green. And the women were worse!

At Christmas, we attended two soirees, both fund-raisers, and Jas wore these burgundy evening dresses with green accents, especially like sashes at her waist, and again she was without question the most striking woman at these events. It was no surprise that the outfits that the actors wore on stage at both theaters were so perfectly designed; the woman simply had a flair for putting together outfits that were completely captivating without being ostentatious or overly suggestive.

My upcoming lease renewal triggered a long weekend of discussion, and finally we agreed that I would move in with her. Her place was spacious; the building in which she lived was much older than mine, and therefore the apartments were larger. Our agreement was simply that I would contribute half to the expenses of the apartment, which honestly were not that many. So she used the extra money that we now had and turned her bedroom into the one of her dreams.

Each and every day, I walked into what could only be described as a boudoir. The four-post bed with pink-tinted comforters and silk sheets that quite honestly could only be properly enjoyed while nude. Sheer drapes that hung from the top of the posts. The settee that we'd found secondhand on an antique scouting/shopping trip sat on one wall. The closet was filled with her clothing; I managed to live out of a small chest of drawers. I had quite honestly much simpler needs.

The conversation that led to this night occurred some two weeks ago. I'd been at work until late; there was a project I was overseeing that was not going smoothly and I had to stay to work out a few details. So when I got home around nine, I was overly tired.

"Oh my god, there you are!" she rushed out from the living area to embrace me.

"Hi Jas, babe," I said as I planted a kiss on her lips. It had been the first really warm, sunny day of spring, and she wore one of her quality white tee-shirts and a simple pair of khaki shorts. I had been texting her throughout the day so she knew of my predicament, but still, getting home that late was well out of the norm. "Good to see you," I said softly.

"Glad you're finally home!" she smiled and stood back, holding my upper arms. "My sweet man!" she smiled. She pulled me back into an embrace and it's no lie to say that being held in this woman's arms was one of the greatest things in my life. There was nothing like being pressed against her warm, curvy body to bleed away the day's stress.

"Are you okay?" she asked, releasing me.

"Honestly? No. Tomorrow's going to suck too, and I might have to work the weekend," I said sourly.

She whistled softly. "That bad?"

"Yeah, it's a fucking disaster," I said bluntly. It's funny, but at work I often curse like a sailor, fuck this or that and fucking was a common word. At home, in her presence, I rarely cursed. She almost never cursed, except in bed during those penultimate moments before orgasm.

She looked a little shocked at my bluntness. "Poor baby," she said and pulled me against her again. But she quickly pushed me away, and smiled. "I know JUST the thing," she said while booping my nose lightly with her index finger. "I want to see my man naked," she told me and held up her hand to cut off any such protests that might emerge. "So go get naked, baby, and then join me on the couch!"

Whatever she was planning immediately sounded better than any vague thought I might have. Are you really surprised that by the time I made it to the bedroom and carefully hung up my work trousers and peeled off my shirt and underwear and socks that I was sporting an erection? I was not. I returned to her on the couch, feeling that curious vulnerability at being naked and nakedly erect in front of her, yet not caring at all.

She sat on the couch, her legs together, her left arm resting on the armrest. She patted her lap. "Head here, baby," she said. I had learned that Jasmine could turn on her bedroom voice like none other. I heard that bedroom voice and decided that this was going to be decidedly pleasurable for me. So I got onto the couch, and nestled my head in her lap, in the crook between thigh and torso.

"Comfy?" she asked me.

"Yes, I am," I confirmed.

"Good. Now let's have a chat!" she giggled. Her right hand reached out and fingers caressed my erection slowly and steadily. Jas loved to toy with my cock. She just loved it. Usually within thirty minutes of snuggling together on the couch, she had my cock out and her fingers would glide over my organ, teasing it to its fullest thickness and hardness.

Many nights, she would peel off her clothing and panties and throw her body over mine. She loved making love to me on the couch, her body in a kneeling position, guiding my cock into her eternally wet pussy. I'd never known Jas's body to not react in this way to me. She sometimes whispered in the darkness in our bed how my cock had utter ownership over her. She would nestle atop me, wriggling back and forth until my cock firmly slipped inside of her. Her eyes would open and look glassy, and she'd wait until my fingers found her little button. Once I was touching her clit, she could not stop her hip movements. She loved that I could last in this position a little longer; between the slow, fluid sex and my fingers that knew just how to touch her, Jas could come multiple times before I finally exploded deeply inside of her.

This night her hand teased and played, drawing fingertips along the underside of my organ, a motion that left me shuddering.

"My poor baby," she crooned. "After a hard day, is there anything better than his girl playing with his cock?" she whispered.

"No, I love this," I moaned as my hips rose a little from the couch. The pleasure of her touch was all-encompassing. All I felt were warm, soft fingers caressing me, teasing me, making me harder and harder.

"You know what I love?" she asked me softly.

I craned my head back a little to look up. "What's that?"

"I love you!" she smiled.

"Awww. I love you back, Jas!" I assured her.

"I also love that you're sinking into my world without question," she said softly.

Once more I looked back at her. That was a leading statement, not one that she'd made before. "Meaning?"

Her grip changed, fingers curling around the shaft and giving me a tender squeeze. "Mmmm this cock!" she breathed first. Then dropped her eyes to look into mine. "You haven't complained about how feminine a world in which you live," she explained to me. "I've been thinking alot about that, and none of my prior boyfriends would have put up with this. So why do you?" she asked.

I'll grant you that it is exceedingly difficult to ponder a thought of that complexity when you have an erection. I'll further state that the manipulation of that organ by the woman you love makes dissemination of her words even harder. But I tried, despite balls that were beginning to churn and little gasps that were coming out of my mouth.

"A part of it...is you," I said as I gasped between words. "But...there's something, I don't know...comforting? Comforting I guess...in entering a home that is...soft. Feminine. Like...sometimes I feel...swaddled by it."

"Swaddled?" she smiled, changing again to drag her fingertip along the underside of my now-jumping cock. "That's an interesting word choice," she told me. "So this, um..." she paused, searching for the right word. "Immersion? Immersion into my feminine world entices you?"

"Yes, it does," I had to agree. Not just because of a boner. But I liked it. Secretly or not, I liked it.

"Hmmm," she smiled and once again gripped me. "I can't tell you how much that makes me happy. You know that I'm a girly-girl," she said. It was not the first time she stated that; I was certain that it would not be the last.

"Oh yes. I think that's one of your many charms," I gasped.

"Can you do me a little favor?" she asked, giving my erection a harder squeeze.

"Oh my," I whispered. "What's that?" I responded to her question.

"Moan for me," she said and squeezed my cock. She erupted quickly in one of her moans, the sort of higher-pitched cry infused with sexual pleasure and deep need. "I'd like to hear you moan," she admitted.

"Ooohhhh!" I did my best.

She grinned. "Mmmm that's sexy. Do it again," she advised as she gave my cock a long, slow stroke.

"OOHh! Mmmm Jas!" This one was not forced.

"I want to hear you moan," she said. "It's turning me on. I'm so wet," she admitted.

In my opinion, there are fewer things that can stoke a man's fires deeper and stronger than hearing his woman admit that he turns her on so. So I moaned, a long low noise of deep pleasure. And again, it was not faked.

"Can I ask you whether it will bother you if we work together to sink you deeper and deeper into the feminine?" she asked. Now using a feather-like touch on my cock, it bobbed with each thumping beat of my heart.

"No!" I groaned somewhat abjectly.

"Oh god, baby," she moaned. She suddenly patted my bare chest. "Sit up, sit up," she said urgently. I did, my abs pulling me into a sitting position. She stood as my head turned to see her, and she pulled off her shorts and panties, and ripped off her top. Now again nude, she plopped back down. "Can...can I try something?" she asked me.

"Sure," I agreed. Truthfully I would have agreed to just about anything right there. It was her gaze, you see.

Her body position changed. She bent her right leg at the knee and opened it towards me. "Lie on your side, and lick me in this position," she whispered.

"Oh god, yes," I moaned, turning onto my side. I adjusted myself so that my cock and balls were not trapped between my thighs.

"No, no," she whispered.

"What?"

Her voice quavered a little as she directed me next. "T-tuck your cock and balls behind you," she said.

I frowned, and then pushed my erection and balls back between my legs and closed my thighs. They were sticking out from behind my legs, and frankly inaccessible to her. That was not ideal, but then she had me curl my legs up as she patted and directed me into place.

It was not the first time that I gazed at the long slit that glistened with moisture and featured an aroma that was both intoxicating and irresistible.