Kathy Likes Women Ch. 04byPelios©
I finally got Sheila to eat me out, but it took some doing. First of all, there were two more visits where she came to ask me to eat her, and then she would split. I demanded explanations, but she would only say that she couldn't do That. After becoming more of a pest than I wanted to be, I finally got to the root of the matter, and I might of known that it had to do with an attitude that she'd copped about homosexuality. See, she wasn't queer as long as she didn't eat pussy, or even suck tits. But kissing and getting eaten out was okay. Good grief! The way people get through the day.
I got plenty irritated when talking it out didn't work; she was one stubborn bitch. I was also a little miffed about the fact that since I ate pussy, she considered me queer. I mean, I might be, I certainly do seem to like women, as much if not better than men, but that isn't the point. The point was she was looking down on Laura and me for doing something she wouldn't do but wanted us to do it to her. She was using us. Not that I minded that part, it was the looking down on us for being lesbians thingy...
In fact, I would like to digress here a moment and say something about my feelings on exactly how I define myself. Slut is fair, and I also admit to being bisexual, manipulative, smarter than most and much dumber than I think I am, and a wiseass to boot. While I don't mind being called a lesbian, I don't particularly care to think of myself as gay. Gayness is to me a cultural thing. Go to a men's gay bar and hang out, or go to a lesbian bar and hang out – and it is easy to see what I mean.
Too many gays tend to see themselves as an "us versus them" type of group, and I don't see myself as standing against any particular thing or group. Of course all gays aren't like this, but many are. Many lesbians hate men, and many gay men hate women. I love men and I love women. I have met many gay men and women who will look you in the eye and say you aren't really one of us if you ever have relations with the other side. Lesbians strike me as slightly worse about this than gay men, but I admit that may be a limitation of my experience.
All things being equal, I would probably choose to make love to woman instead of a man, but just because I prefer steak, I'm not giving up hot dogs or pork chops or whatever. And furthermore, one of the things that I have only rarely experienced is making love to woman and a man at the same time, and I LOVE to do that. Given that I have such strong feelings about the matter, I hope it is easier to understand my annoyance at Sheila and others who tend to way too casually categorize me.
But anyway, Sheila had a boyfriend named Derek, some stud on the tennis team, and that's how I finally got to her. He was the kind of guy that had a rambling eye (like me), so was really unsuitable for what she wanted him for anyway (marriage), but she wanted this dude, so I took him. It wasn't very hard, either. She was bargaining for a contract, and I wasn't suffering from any such limitations. First, I simply approached Derek and asked him if I could give him a blowjob. Few males say no to this question. Especially to a pretty blonde.
Soon, he was coming by every day for another quick suck-off. I did tease him just a little before letting him into my pants. I pretended that I got off fine to sucking dick but never wanted to be touched, which of course, gave him a terrible hunger for touching me. Gradually, I had the guy all but in love with me, and to tell the truth, he was kind of nice. The only reason that I couldn't take him too seriously was that he wasn't too bright, but evidently, Sheila considered that a plus. Still, Derek had a nice cock, and he really got off to putting it up my ass to come after fucking my cunt for a while, which endeared the boy to me. But I never lost sight of my original purpose. Finally, the day came when Sheila confronted me about him.
"You're fucking, Derek!" she accused me without preamble one evening. She'd been careful to come to our room when Laura was out on a date. Did she think we'd gang up on her?
"I'll drop him and leave you a clear field," I said candidly, "if you'll give me what I want." Actually, I felt terrible about doing this – it was definitely not me, but when I reminded myself about why I was doing it, and how many times Sheila had taken what Laura and I offered and then treated us like lepers... She had actually cold-shouldered us a few times in public if she was hanging with her sorority sisters.
Her lower lip quivered, and her dark eyes flashed as she breathed, "What the hell can you want? You've already got the man I want to marry!" She was gorgeous to me, standing there in tight jeans and a sweatshirt, the heavy dark ringlets of her hair all but obscuring her sullen face and thick, pouting lips. And she asks me what I want! It was like a mouse asking a cat what it wants.
Her body was stiff and resistant as I put my arms around her neck and pulled myself close to her, "I want you to treat me like a woman!" I said firmly, "I want you to love me the way you like me to love you. Then, I'll let Derek go, and you can fill the gap; it should be easy, if that's what you really want. Hell, I'll even help you catch him, and I can guarantee he will be yours again. And, um, some of his sexual techniques will be a little improved." Her eyes filled with tears and her body became more flexible. She let me kiss her cheeks and her neck. Her perfume made my head spin.
"It's hard for me, Kathy," she whispered, her arms reluctantly surrounding me. "I know that you've wanted me to, ah, reciprocate, and after all the good times that you've given me, God knows, you deserve it. And, I know that it would just be between you and me, but I'd know! If you want me to admit it, I will," she gulped and put her head on my shoulder, facing away from me so that I heard a muffled version of her sobbing words, "I'm even kind of attracted to you, and I'll admit that some part of me may even want to do go down on you. But I want to marry Derek, and I want to stay attracted to him. I want to be normal! You see? I'm afraid that, if I let myself get queer, I might lose my interest in him. I'd lose my chance for children and having a normal married life!"
Jeez! What a mixed-up kid! Like as if a little nooky would keep her from having children! I was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. I stepped away from her and pulled my shirt over my head and shook my hair free. "Look at my tits," I commanded, reaching for her thick, black hair and pulling her head to my chest, "Now, while you're looking, touch them," I waited for her trembling hands to settle lightly on my breasts before I whispered in her ear, "Now, imagine his slick, wet cock sliding in and out of your pussy – really let yourself feel it." When I felt her hips move a bit, I said, "See? It still feels good even while you're making it with a chick. Believe, me, Sheila. Even if you learn to like going down on a girl, you'll still want Derek; it's like different, see? Did you give up chocolate when you discovered strawberry?"
She gave me a searching look. Her tears were gone, but her lower lip still trembled slightly, "Promise you'll help me get Derek back?"
"I promise; he'll be a better sexual partner, and when I'm through scaring him to death, he'll never run around on you again!" I assured her, and she gave my little breasts a squeeze and looked down at them.
"And if I decide that I like this?" Was that desire that I felt radiating from her hands?
"Honey, I swear! Goodness, Sheila, if you need my help to get a girlfriend, I'll help you out there, too. Meanwhile, my legs are open to you! Just lighten up girl. These are your college years. Live a little."
She looked back up at me with her soft, brown eyes, "I have to tell you that I've been seeing Laura, too, usually whenever you go out on a date. She's been very sweet about solving my horniness problem, but I've never touched her there, either. If I do this with you, will you want me to stop seeing her? I mean, I promise that I still won't mess with her, but I do get crazy-horny sometimes when you're not around."
"Of course, and I don't mind! Sheila, Laura and I share everything, and I mean everything. I know all about you two. Who do you think goes to her rescue after you make her horny then split? And you better start doing something for her, too! She's not going to stand for much more of your nonsense!"
"And if I don't like this?" she gave me a soulful look.
"Tell you what, do it for me, and like it or not, do it for Laura, too, when she comes in tonight; you owe her that much, too. Then you're free and clear to choose as you like, and you'll still get Derek. And we'll still eat you out whenever you want it. Deal? Well, I can't guarantee Laura, but I can guarantee me."
She laid her head on my chest and softly said, "Deal." I led her to the bed and slowly stripped her, caressing her curves with my fingers, eyes and lips. When I pulled down her panties and nuzzled her thin, black pubic hair with my nose, I could smell her arousal. "Want me to do you first, darling?" I muttered, more to her pussy than her head, at the same time slipping my gym shorts off.
She gave a little nod, then as she sat down on the edge of my bed, she sighed with relief as I spread her thighs with my face and gave her passion-puffed lips a soul-deep french kiss. Grasping her legs by the ankles, I lifted her knees and exposed her tight, brown little asshole. I gave it a few fiery little licks then lowered her legs enough to let her thighs rest on my shoulders while I got down to some serious pussy licking. She came pretty quick, clutching my head to her cunt and trying to keep from yelling out loud, so I figure she must have been even more aroused than I had thought. She was sure a juicy girl, and I loved that about her. Her pussy was pretty, too. I left her, still trembling, and stretched out beside her on the bed. She rolled over on me and kissed me and I had the feeling that she was savoring the smell of her own cunt juices still smeared around my mouth, something she hadn't done before. She'd never really given me a good kiss after I'd gone down on her! And like I said before, she is a strong smelling girl.
I pushed her head down to my breasts and enjoyed her suckling for a while before pushing her head further down my body. She put her hands on my thighs, and I spread myself to her. I ran my fingers through her thick, heavy, raven-black curls and locked my hands into fistfuls of sweet-smelling hair. Her eyes met mine, and she understood. I meant to fuck her face. I gave her a few moments to look at me and smell me, and then I pulled her head in. On the first contact, her lips spread and her tongue slid into my crack in a perfect french kiss. I mostly used her nose to tickle my clit, and she generously cooperated by thrusting her tongue down my vagina. After I got myself good and excited, I let her take over and worry my clit with her tongue. I came so sweet and good that I felt like there were snakes of pleasure swimming through my body caressing my insides with delight.
I had to make her stop when it started to tickle, and she crawled up my body and lay full length on me to kiss me. Her body felt good with her breasts pressed down on mine, and her kisses were passionate, her eyes full of love. "Well, what do you think about eating pussy," I asked when she finally let me catch my breath.
"It's very sexy down there, and you smell sexy, too, nicer than me, if fact. Do you want me to do it again?"
I reached down her back and put my hand in the crack of her ass, lightly touching her asshole with the tip of my finger, "Yeah," I breathed, "But let's do it together. I'll put a pillow under my butt, and you can be on top." In moments, I was arranged, and she was swinging her leg over my head. I felt her head sink between my thighs even as I slid my tongue into her oozing gash. I licked up and down giving an extra tickle lick or two every time I passed her little red clit, and I felt her trying to mirror my actions in concert. To make it easier for her, I raised my knees and wrapped my legs around her. There are things I like about the 69 position, and things I don't like. I loved feeling another girl's tits on my tummy, having her legs frame my head, and I sure loved kissing another girl's pussy while I come. The thing I don't like is neither of us gets to do a royal job of concentration on the task at hand, or complete concentration on receiving, for that matter. But the embracing sort of makes up for that. It is definitely the most romantic and loving position.
We were still gleefully tonguing each other's pussies when Laura walked in, back unexpectedly early from her date. I could tell by the way that Laura acted that it would have been a bad scene if we hadn't welcomed her intrusion right away. Laura was obviously jealous that I'd gotten Sheila to eat pussy before she did. But after Sheila had eaten Laura out while I licked Laura's willing ass, she decided to be cool about the whole thing. From that point on, I became distracted about Sheila, but mainly because I'd fallen in love with one of my teachers. Although, I still fucked with Sheila every chance I could get. But then, I fucked nearly anybody every chance I could get. And of course, I still made it with Laura all the time, even if I had to seduce her. Remember, by my selective definitions I am a slut!
The teacher was my history professor, Mrs. Candice Folsom. She was in her late twenties and married to a doctor, and a neurosurgeon at that! She was like a gigantic Norse goddess. She was gloriously tall, a good six feet, plus an inch or two, making my own five-seven seem short. She was one of the world's perfect people: beautiful, rich, intelligent and successful. She was as cool and unstoppable as an iceberg, always correct, always precise, and always in control of her situation.
Yet, I thought I could detect a need in her, some corner of her still unfulfilled, and I wanted to be the one to fill that corner. Of course that might be wishful thinking. Her hair was Nordic blonde, nearly iceberg white; her eyes, large, blue and sincere with long blonde lashes that didn't need coloring to be visible. Her eyebrows were blonde, and so too was the hair on her forearms. Needless to say, I was dying to know if she was blonde below, as well, although I felt sure that she was. Her skin was smooth and white, and her lips were full, and she usually used red lipstick.
She always wore the latest styles, but always the more formal, conservative versions. Her reading glasses were large beveled squares, but her tits were obviously large, whatever clothes she wore, and what you could see of her long legs was shapely and sweet, with lovely ripples of muscle when she moved. She always wore high heels, a bra and stockings, or panty hose; I could only tell which on those rare occasions when I got a peek up her dress, but her dresses were usually too long for a good look that high up.
My first real opening with this ice goddess of a woman came one day when we were alone together in her office, discussing career goals and the future, etc. I had managed to steer the conversation around to the personal advantages of certain careers, "It must be very sexy, being a college teacher. What with the teacher assuming a sort of parental substitute type of role, half your students fall in love with you. It must be very rewarding to be adored!"
She laughed, "You're exaggerating the statistics! Being a college teacher is hardly in the same category as being a rock star! Although," she shrugged, "It does seem to happen at least every other semester." She giggled with her hand over her mouth, as if to stifle an urge to laugh out loud. "I've even had a few of my female students profess undying love for me. Of course, I let them all down as gently as I can."
This was the direction that I wanted the conversation to go! "Why not go ahead and have a fling with the adoring masses now and then?" I asked, "I think I would, if I was a teacher." I stated this positively, then added, "What was it that Blake said about stifling desire, that it would be better to murder an infant in its cradle?"
She gave me a lopsided grin, "Blake meant his own desires, Kathy, not those of his fans! Besides, like Blake was, I'm married, and as far as anyone knows, Blake didn't fool around."
"How would you feel if I told you that I wanted to kiss you," I asked, leaning forward over her desk and looking as beautiful as I could.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes." I got up from my chair and walked around her desk; I kneeled beside her chair and looked up at her wistfully, "Give me one good kiss to show me that you can ignore the desires of your adoring public." I gave her a sunny smile and tried to act like it was all a joke. It didn't work.
"Oh, my," she said faintly, "You are serious aren't you?"
"This is not a grade thing!" I assured her, "I'll even drop your course if you want me to, if only you'll give me one real kiss, then tell me that you have no desire to have sex with me." It was a long-shot sort of gamble, but I've found intellectuals easy to back into a corner, so I tried it.
But she was even cooler than I had expected her to be. She looked me over carefully then asked, "And how will you feel if I give you that kiss and then ask you to drop this nonsense, instead of my course?"
I put my hand on her knee, and though she gave it a glance, she didn't move it. "I'm willing to gamble on that possibility," I answered as sincerely as I could, "I'm not trying to interfere with your marriage, you know, I just want to have sex with you. Kiss me," I commanded and turned my face up to hers.
Slowly, she set her glasses on her desk and cupped my face in her hands. Her face filled my vision as she drew close and whispered, "Like this?" and she kissed me. Her lips parted, and her tongue slipped in my mouth like a darting fish, her fingers curling in my hair as the smell of her perfume filled my nose. I was so filled with love and desire that I nearly fainted. It was a long kiss, too. I was trembling with need when she sat back casually in her chair and put her glasses back on. She looked down at me and gently moved my hand off her knee. "Do you agree that we shared a good and fair kiss?" she asked.
"Oh yes!" I breathed enthusiastically and truthfully, thereby falling into my own trap.
"Then I must tell you that even after kissing you, I don't want to have sex with you, Kathy. So you needn't drop my course, only your attempts to seduce me. Agreed?"
I was crushed. "You weren't excited at all by kissing me?" I asked, glumly returning to my chair on the other side of the desk.
"I didn't say that. And that wasn't in the terms of our agreement. The question was, would I want to have sex with you, and the answer is still, no." She took her glasses off again and softened her tone, "I don't want to have sex with anyone but my husband; that's the kind of marriage we have, and that's the way that I want it. I don't want to share him, so it wouldn't be fair for me to cheat on him. I hope you understand."
I did. She really didn't want to have sex with me, even if she thought it might be fun, and she hadn't even quite allowed me that much. This just wasn't a thing that I could fight. As I said, I was crushed! I got up to leave, and she stood up, too. The glasses stayed on her desk. She held out her hand. Blinking back tears of frustration and defeat, I clasped her hand with mine (God! I was so immature in college). "Okay," I conceded defeat, "You win, Ms. Folsom. I have to tell you that I still want you, and something awful, at that! But I won't make a pest of myself anymore. I like you too much not to respect the way you feel about your marriage. Your husband's a lucky guy!"