Pretty Lin Ch. 04

"Micca, Is it OK if I play with myself? Your story is turning me on like you wouldn't believe."

"Of course, Lin!" My fingers entered the narrow space where her thigh pressed up between my legs.

"And, Micca? Would you pet yourself too, so I can feel you?"

"Yes, if that's what you want." Her arm around my shoulders pulled close, and closeness turned into a long soft kiss. I felt her other hand work down between us while our lips brushed each others'. The kiss soon ended but the closeness didn't. I felt Micca's breath on my ear as her quiet voice resumed the story.

Micca took time describing each stage of the fairy tale Princess's penetration, her feelings of fullness, the pushing that widened her body's entryway, the probing deep inside her. Her words guided my masturbation – but it wasn't really masturbation, it was something with Micca and about her, even if the touch on my genitals was my own. Micca's words made me want the sense of being entered, much more than was usual for me. Soon, my hand curled way under, so my finger could press all the way in. I felt Micca's hand do the same, and I added pressure with the thigh I held against between her legs.

I'm not sure what I expected, since I knew that Micca wasn't comfortable with sex words even in the midst of sex. I hoped she would stay away from those weird euphemisms that some romance writers concoct, and she did that too. For all that, Micca used the most explicit descriptions of the Princess's coercion and unwilling arousal. I easily imagined every increment of advance into her body, and every tremor of her womb's answer. The story had me rocking hard against her leg, my fingers curling inside and my toes curling in response.

"Micca," I breathed in her ear, "let me come. Please."

Her grip on my shoulders tightened. The story, like the Princess in it, worked quickly towards a climax. Just when my body went taut with orgasm, Micca spoke the words into my ear. The story's Princess came in shattering waves, just as I did. My peak passed, leaving me gasping against Micca's strong, soft curves. I still felt her fingers between us, caressing herself, and I felt them slow when the story ended.

"Now you, Micca. I want to feel you come, too."

"Yes, Lin." The little motion turned fast again, as I pulled her hips against my thigh. I shifted my touch from myself to her breast, and felt the thickness of her areola between my fingers. When I tightened my fingers around the firm button of her nipple, I felt Micca's teeth against my shoulder. She mewed, almost too softly to hear, as orgasm rose inside her.

The peak of intensity passed in a few moments, but Micca kept plucking at the little aftershocks left behind. I held her, cooing sounds of affection and encouragement. She answered with new moans as each wave crested across her clitoris. Soon, even those passed.

We kept our hold on each other, but not so closely as before. I drifted in a happy haze, letting sleep rise around me. Before I sank into it, though, I heard Micca one more time.

"Thank you, Lin."

----

A crack of thunder startled me awake. Dim, grey light cam through the window, dawn muted by the storm. It was a real storm, too, with buckets of rain pounding against the glass. It hadn't awakened Micca, though. I unlaced my arms and legs from her sleeping form, replaced the blanket over her, and got up. I put that big T-shirt on, the one that Micca said showed my 'cute little buns.' The usual dots of red and green LEDs didn't appear in the kitchenette or living area, meaning the power was still out. I could see just well enough to light a candle. I checked that there was plenty left, even after using it last night, then pulled out some aluminum foil to make a hood for the candle. That would direct its light where I needed it, but keep the direct glare out of my eyes.

I silently blessed the gas stove again. I had to light it with a match, but at least I could heat water for coffee. I didn't know how long the power would be out, so I scouted the fridge. I wanted to use up the things that would go bad first. Eggs, a little cheese, a few frozen peas already thawing, leftover rice, some chopped onion – it sounded like a frittata to me. I got out a bowl and a big frying pan, and started on it.

Just about the time I was pouring water into the coffee press, Micca started stirring. The robe I wore last night was the closest, easiest thing for her to put on. She was wearing that when she showed up beside me, with an arm around my waist.

"What's that?" she asked. "Whatever it is, it smells good."

I held her arm around me and answered. "I figured a frittata would use up leftovers fastest. It will be ready in a few minutes, if you let me get to it."

She planted a kiss on my cheek and said, "Don't let me get in the way of progress. Especially not when it's my breakfast we're talking about."

Micca pulled forks from a drawer, unrolled two 'napkins' off a roll of paper towels, and went to set the table. I heard her light more candles and saw the room brighten a little. Once the frittata started cooking, I poured Micca's coffee and brought it over to her. I stood behind her chair and draped my arms over her shoulders. While she clutched the mug to warm her hands, I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

Then I bent lower and whispered, "That was wonderful last night. I really liked your story." Micca didn't answer in words, but set the mug down and held my hands over her chest.

A few minutes later, the frittata was a golden-brown masterpiece. I cut it in two and served. We chatted idly as we ate, mostly about the galleries we saw yesterday. The storm continued, getting worse if anything. One flash of lightning lit the room, and a hammer-blow of thunder followed almost immediately. We both jumped – that one was nearby.

As we ate, Micca and I reached over to touch each other often: holding a hand or stroking a thigh. That warmth and closeness from yesterday remained, as did Micca's uncommon attentiveness. She sipped the last of her coffee and watched me as I cleared the table, apparently eying my 'cute little buns.' Once the dirties were in the sink, I came back to the table. I stood behind Micca again, but this time I reached around so I could rub the sides of her breasts. She sank back into her chair with a happy sigh. More thunder, farther this time, reminded us of the downpour outside.

As I stroked her, I said "I'm really not up for going out in this weather."

"Mmm. Me neither."

"And, with the power out, there's not a lot we can do indoors."

"I can think of something." Micca shifted my hands to the fronts of her breasts as she spoke.

I bent over and kissed her head again. "You insatiable sweetie. I like the way you think." I accepted the implicit invitation and repositioned my hands again. This time, I spread the lapels of the robe she was wearing and held her breasts directly. Then, in her era, "And I really liked your story last night. Do you have any others for me?"

Micca raised her own hands to cover mine, holding them against her softness. Her cheek rubbed against my arm, and she answered, "I don't know, I never tried making up stories like that before."

I moved a hand under each of her breasts and lifted them. My thumbs stroked her nipples, and I felt them tighten at the touch. "How about Lady Margrave?" I referred to a particularly steamy romance novel, the one that had catalyzed our sexual relationship.

"What do you mean?"

"We could read the story out loud, or one of us could read and one follow along with what Lady Margrave does in the story."

Micca wriggled and one hand move between her legs at the thought. Her other hand held mine even tighter against her breast. "Oh, wow. That was the sexiest thing I ever read. Uh, Lin?"

"Yes?"

"Could I read and you do it? After yesterday …"

"You're sore?"

"No, just rubbed a little too much inside. I don't want to get sore."

"I understand. This is going to be fun." I could feel my labia start to thicken in anticipation.

Micca went straight to the bookshelf and picked it out, even though the book titles could barely be seen in the dim light. She obviously knew just where it was. I saw the book flop open in her hand, too. After many readings, it always opened to the same spot, the one we wanted.

I went to the bathroom to get a towel and almost bumped into Micca on the way out.

"Doesn't this take place in her bath?" Micca asked.

"Yes, but I figured the bed would be easier. It doesn't make that much difference, does it?"

"I guess not." Micca went back into the room and started moving the candles to the bedside table. I got the towel, along with the little bottle I keep hidden at the back of the bathroom closet. I spread the towel on the bed to make cleanup easier. Then I went to the cabinet and got two small dishes. I poured a thick, clear puddle into each from the little bottle. After I closed the bottle, I carried the dishes over to the bed.

Micca cocked an eyebrow and asked, "What's that?"

I took a few drops between thumb and forefinger, then rubbed them together to demonstrate. I held one of the dishes out to Micca, and she cautiously did the same. "That's nice and slippery! I know what that's for."

I set the dishes on the bed, one on each side of the towel, and said "Let's get started." Micca began to read.

Once her gown had been put properly away, Lady Margrave dismissed her loyal servant. "Nothing more this evening, Fanny. I'll see you in the morning."

"Very good, m'um." Fanny bowed a little as she said it, then turned, closed the door behind her, and retreated down the hall. Even before the footsteps faded away, Lady Margrave finished undressing, then turned to the mirror.

I didn't have a mirror, but stood next to the bed and posed, as if Micca were the mirror. Micca suppressed a giggle and went on reading.

On the whole, Lady Margrave – Iliana – liked what she saw …

I acted out the scene, turning this way and that as if admiring myself in a mirror. Following along with the story, I cupped my breasts as if testing whether they drooped. (Mine? Not likely, but it was in the story.) I turned around, too, as Lady Margrave examined the curve of her hip. Mine was muscled from running, not the Lady's horseback riding, but flexed nicely just as the Lady's did. Micca watched as I posed, and almost forgot to keep reading when I turned my backside toward her.

Iliana turned from the gilt mirror towards her bath. The floral scent and steamy warmth invited her to leave behind the cares of her day, and to enjoy the sensual solitude …

I lay down on the bed, next to Micca. She remained seated, but turned towards me. I adjusted the towel under my hips as she continued reading.

The soap formed a slick film on Iliana's skin. Her hands slid easily across the curves of her shoulders and downward towards her breasts. The frictionless touch allowed Iliana to massage her breasts deeply, and even slide across the rising pink paps …

My 'paps' are more brown than pink, but I stroked them as the story suggested. I was surprised at how easily I entered the spirit of the story. My arousal rose as Micca's voice continued, narrating the fictional Lady's self-stimulation.

"Micca?"

She stopped reading for a moment. "Yes?"

"Kiss my breast. Please." I lifted it from the side so that it mounded on my chest. Not a very big mound, maybe, but just enough that my nipple clearly sat at the top. Micca set the book face down on the bed and leaned over. Her mouth absorbed the whole width of my areola; gentle suction tugged at it, with extra pressure from her hidden tongue. My other hand held the other nipple and rolled it between thumb and fingertip. Her touch and mine combined somehow into a tingle between my legs.

"Oh, I like that. Could you read some more? And keep touching me while you read?"

Micca sat up again, she adjusted her legs under herself so she was kneeling. She picked up the book one-handed (the way I always read that part!), and reached the other hand toward my breast.

Iliana lifted her hips from the water. Candle-lit droplets sparkled like jewels in the dark curls below her belly's lowest curve. She admired them for a moment, then worked scented soap into the tuft …

I had shaven my own 'tuft' away, but shifted my touch to my mons. I massaged that while the Lady shampooed hers. Iliana went on, pressing firmly against the 'little cheeks' between her legs, and I followed along greedily. Her washcloth parted the 'softly furred folds' and my touch went between mine, un-furred though they were.

The voluptuous feeling soon had its effect. Iliana set the cloth aside and touched herself directly. Her mysterious bud of passion …

If I wasn't already so excited, I would have burst out laughing. Where do these writers get these phrases?

And where do they get these heroines who reach the verge of orgasm after just a few strokes? "Micca, could you slow down for a moment. I need to catch up."

She stopped, and gave me a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, I just …"

"It's not you," I reassured her, "The book just moves faster than I do." Micca set the book aside again. Her hand left my breast when she did.

"You can keep touching me like that. I was really enjoying it." She took up her gentle grip on my nipple. "And you can touch yourself, too." I had seen her hand edging toward her own breast, then away again. I'm not sure why she needed my permission. Wordlessly, she cupped her own breast so that the nipple showed between her fingers, and the fingers scissored together. Seeing that only turned me on more.

Tension cycled through my hips in a slow, building rhythm. Soon, I felt myself as close to my climax as the Lady was to hers "Could you read some more?"

Iliana felt her crisis impend. Soon, its strength became greater than hers – it captured her and commanded her. Shouts of wordless gratitude echoed within the bathing chamber as the climax cradled her in its relentless grasp.

I'm not the screamer the Lady is – I've lived in apartments too long. My orgasm came right on cue, though. Micca stopped reading when it did, so she could give all her attention to me. I smiled back at her loving looks. It helped me ignore the silliness of the book's description.

My moment passed, just as the Lady's did. Micca asked, "Should I continue?"

We both knew what was coming next. I nodded, even as I kneaded my vulva in anticipation.

Iliana relaxed into the warm bath. She luxuriated in the afterglow of her spending. Her hand remained on her womanhood, though. Her body held such riches that more remained to spend.

Lady Margrave half-rose from her scented bath. An elegant arm reached out to the nearest candle. She lifted it from its holder and pinched it out. Then, she lowered its rounded end toward her opened body …

I did much the same, but took a moment to pour out the melted wax around the wick. Unlike commercial candles, this hand-dipped one really did have a rounded end like the Lady's.

Even though her body's nectar flowed freely, Iliana spread an herbal balm across the slim shaft. Then, when it touched the doorway to her womanly garden, it entered as comfortably as a lord enters his own manor.

I rolled the end of the candle in one of the dishes of slippery stuff. Holding my labia open with the other hand, I spread it across the entrance to my vagina. I dipped and spread a few more times, creating a thick coating of slickness. My knees bent outward as I reached low with the candle, aligning it with the canal inside me. Its end settled into the soft, deep spot between my legs. I lay back, looking up at Micca.

Then I pressed. The candle's smooth shape and slippery surface went into me easily. Micca gasped, as if it were entering her body. Her free hand had moved between her legs by that time, and her knees had parted to allow access.

I pulled the candle out a little, then pressed it deeper. "Keep reading, Micca. Please!"

With a little jolt, Micca came back to herself. She continued the narration of Iliana's penetration. Soon, the candle inside her pressed against 'that seat of most exquisite sensation.' It sounded like her G-spot, though of course the romance writer wouldn't use that word. I couldn't quite find mine with the little shaft, but enjoyed the feeling anyway. I clenched myself tight around it and felt it resist me. Unlike Iliana, I used my other hand on my clitoris.

Micca looked up at me from her reading, then looked down to where the waxy shaft disappeared into my vagina. Her eyes got wide. "My god, is all that inside of you?"

I smiled, closed my eyes, and pressed again. Micca inhaled with a hiss as I did. Really, only four or five inches of it had gone in. There was another inch or two to go before it would be too much. I let go of the candle, leaving it sticking half-way out of me, and reached for Micca's hand. She seemed almost hypnotized as I wrapped her grip around it, and said "You do it. I want to feel you do it."

She seemed almost scared to move her hand at first, so I guided her. Together, we tilted it inside me, side to side or up and down. We pulled it back just a fraction, then pushed inward even more. Soon, I felt Micca take over, leading rather than following my lead. At that, I went back to massaging my clitoris and left her to work the phallus inside me.

I looked over and saw that her legs had parted even more. Her hand played furiously over her vulva, and I saw muscles bunching in her legs and lower body. She was as close as I was.

I felt it rising within me. My mouth opened and, with the last breath I could call my own, I whispered, "You come now. For me." Then incredible feelings filled me. Micca pressed the toy farther than ever into me, touching something deep and secret. I pressed my clitoris hard and fast. A moment later, Micca's orgasm joined mine. Her hand stopped moving when inner feelings overcame her, but that was OK. I saw orgasm in her face, and loved the way we gasped out our pleasure together. Sharing that intensity with her moved the moment to a whole new level. It moved our friendship to a new level.

After cresting, we climbed down from our peaks together. I put my hand on Micca's again, holding the candle, and withdrew it slowly. I heard her panting like I was, giving her body a moment to bask in the happiness and to recover. Looking up at her, I said "Come here, you." Once she leaned close enough, I guided her down to a kiss. It went on and on, softness touching softness. She leaned her head on my chest for a while, absorbing the contact between us.

I brushed at her hair, then said. "There's more. Let's keep going"

Micca sat up, cocked an eyebrow at me, and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Let's do the whole thing."

Micca picked up the book, found her place, and resumed.

Once Eros was done with Iliana, at least for the moment, her mind wandered as it always did in such moments. She thought of past lovers and of lovers yet to be. And, as she so often did, she thought of Sir Richard Ennis-Botham, one of the few at court, man or woman, that she had not seduced. His preferences, though widely known, were rarely commented on. They did, however, make it seemingly impossible for him to be seduced by a person such as Iliana – a female person.

This time, however, her thoughts went farther than they had gone before. She imagined him with a lover, taking him or being taken in the Greek manner, something she regarded with curiosity rather than distaste. This, Iliana realized, lay within her abilities, although she had never explored that region of Venus's realm before.