Playing her part


The question was impertinent but I could see that she did not intend it that way. She wanted to discuss the experience but I was in no position to help. I decided that I had to make myself absolutely clear.

"I never went through that. I discovered boys at an early age and I've never looked back."

She looked a little puzzled.

"But you're beautiful. You must have had other women coming on to you."

I suppose that if I took the time to think about it there had probably been occasions but it had never been obvious to me. The theatrical world is, by its nature, populated with larger than life individuals.

"I was tempted you London."

I assumed that she was referring to a lap dancing club. At that point in time she was already cast for Gil's film and was in the midst of her research even then. I was simply glad that she had not tried to enlist my help. I would have had no idea where to start.

She held my eye as she continued.

"Would you have been offended?"

I was about to confess my ignorance when I felt a sudden light-headedness. For a second I thought the walls were moving and I had to fight to keep my balance. The real import of what she was saying crashed in on me with an almost physical violence.

She saw my distress and stepped forward to put a supporting arm around my shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

I found it hard to string my thoughts together as I tried to come to terms with this new situation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She cradled my head against her chest and gently stroked my hair.

It was the same way in which my mother used to comfort me and, for an instant, I was transported back to my schooldays and, for some odd reason, the stress of my exams. I remembered the floral perfume that she favoured, the one that always seemed a little too old for her, but that was far removed from the scent that now assailed me.

Gabrielle used a perfume that I had never smelt before. It was fresh, orangey but with a musky undertone. It was not an obvious combination but it seemed so right for her and the more so now that I could smell it against her skin.

She had dabbed it between her breasts and I suddenly realized that she was not wearing a bra. The side of my face was separated from her nipple only by the thickness of her cotton blouse and it was not enough to disguise an increasing firmness.

The effect of her gentle stroking was soporific but I needed to get things straight between us. I tried to ease away but she must have thought that I was unsteady on my feet. She took a step back, still holding me, and I found myself sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.

I was still pressed against her but she had leant over just a little so that her long dark hair shrouded me like a veil. It was like being cocooned and I was overcome with an irrational feeling of blissful wellbeing. The momentary detachment from the real world was pleasurable but, at the same time, frightening.

I could feel her heartbeat, strong and steady, a measure of her self control whilst mine started to race. The surge of adrenaline brought tiny details into focus. She was wearing an exquisite gold crucifix at her throat and I admired the fine workmanship but my eyes were drawn downwards.

Her blouse gaped, allowing me to see the caramel warmth of her unfettered breast and I found myself swallowing hard. I felt that same urge that one feels on seeing the vulnerable nakedness of a young baby; the need to touch and experience the natural vitality.

I was almost overcome, to the extent that I had to reach up to gently tug her blouse back into place but, as I did so, she shifted slightly. It was a natural movement, easily dismissed, but it proved fateful.

My fingertips alighted on her breast and I got an instant impression of its firm suppleness. I withdrew my fingers almost immediately but knew that I had lingered just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

Now my hand was caught in the confines of her blouse and in my panicked attempt to extricate myself I found that her nipple was centred on my clammy palm.

I froze, no longer trusting myself, and waited for her to ease herself free but she made no move to do so. I could feel the nub of flesh slowly swelling, pressing against my palm, relaxing my fingers.

They seemed to fit themselves with an instinctive tenderness and my thumb curled to explore the boundaries of her areola. I knew it was so terribly wrong but I was fascinated by the apparent extent of the sensitive dimples.

Her nipple was slightly raised and seemed inches across. My mind flashed back to the teasing dancer of the night before but I could tell that she would bear no comparison with Gabriella.

It took me a second or two to appreciate that she was holding her breath, keeping herself perfectly still so as not to disturb the moment. I reached the boundary of her nipple and then began to move around its circumference.

I knew I had to stop but, before I did, I had to see. I flexed my fingers just enough to ease her blouse a little further open. Her breast had a beautiful curve and the dark nipple formed an arrogant crown.

My mouth watered at the sight and I was abhorred but my own behaviour. I braced myself to break away but in doing so only contrived to move closer. A voice, hers? my own?, telling me that it would be just this once, no one need ever know.

It was absurd of course but, in that secret world where shaded sunlight shone through the silky shroud of her hair, all things seemed possible.

I fought for control, dropping my hand, but only to survey the smooth planes of her stomach. Somehow another button had fallen open leaving her breast completely revealed.

She still had her arm around me but it offered no clues just a simple, comforting, pressure and I felt a fleeting faintness causing my head to loll. It was just enough to bring my face to her breast and my lips parted in surrender.

The next few seconds were confused. I took her nipple into my mouth and, following long buried instincts, my tongue began to lick in an encouraging circle. My whole focus was that distended disk and I moved round to make it more accessible.

Almost without being aware of it I went to my knees whilst she leant over me imprisoning me with her hair.

Her breast seemed perfectly fitted to my mouth and I began to suck gently whilst my tongue danced over the mottled peak. At first the taste was slightly salty with the vaguest hint of something citrus which complemented her perfume but then there was no taste as all and I became lost in the slippery texture.

I was so caught up in my own exploration that I gave no thought to the effect until I became aware of her hand. She gently unfastened the remaining buttons and with a lithe movement allowed her blouse to slip from her body.

The disturbance was nearly enough to break the spell but it brought her other breast to my mouth. As I latched on she gave an almost inaudible groan and this sparked a new curiosity. I was no longer interested in the taste or form. Now I wanted to know how it made her feel.

In my experience men had always been clumsy; even if they mastered the technique they lacked some essential sense of timing. I remembered those frustrating encounters as I drew her into my mouth and teased with my tongue.

For the next few moments I felt the tension grow and then, as she groaned once more, I took the tender teat between my teeth and gently nipped.

Her body stiffened and she hugged me to her. I felt an elated sense of achievement but it was quickly replaced by a new fear.

She was getting hotter and her scent rose from her skin more potently but there was more. At first I could not place it but then it struck me. There was something new in the air, something closer to nature, the distinctive smell of arousal.

I had not planned for this, any of it. I was caught up in the moment and the fascination of her breasts and had not thought further. I felt so stupid. It was only natural that Gabriella would assume that I was a willing participant.

I released her breast but remained frozen in place. I knew it had to stop but I now feared the anger of her disappointment.

She straightened up and her hair fell away from me leaving me feeling embarrassingly exposed. I could not meet her eyes but in looking down I saw her hand as she deftly unfastened the buttons at the front of her skirt.

She was unhurried, self-assured, as she unwrapped the draped folds as if revealing a gift.

She was blessed with a Mediterranean complexion, making stockings unnecessary, but it only made the stark contrast with her white panties more marked.

I knew I was staring but my mind was filled with images of the blonde girl from the club.

The panties looked very expensive and they were gossamer thin. For a second I thought it odd that they should have such a dark gusset but then realized that they did not have one at all.

She opened her legs a little and I could see the full extent of the shadowy growth but, more than that, it revealed her prominent labia.

I avail myself of regular waxings and think that my own labia, which protrude just a little, are one of my sexiest features but this was something of a different order.

Every second that I continued to stare made it harder to withdraw and I understood the blonde girl's awe.

Gabriella sat unmoved and then she slipped her fingers into the sheer material to ease the panties down her legs. As she did so my nose twitched as a renewed reek of arousal rose from her.

I wanted to find it distasteful but, after recoiling from the initial assault, I opened my nostrils and unconsciously sought out the nuances. There was a familiarity about it, something guiltily sniffed from my own fingers, but there was more. It was, at the same time, all women but, somehow, uniquely her.

With her panties completely removed she opened her legs. She did it as though it was a performance, neither too quickly nor too slow just enough to tease her audience of one.

It was at that moment that I came to an understanding that this was not simply a spontaneous train of events but, even armed with that knowledge, I could not look away.

Her sex exerted a hideous fascination. An immaculate triangle of tight, black, curls, framed her perfectly depilated labia. Freed from restriction they swelled as if imbued with a life of their own. At first they appeared dark, almost matching their surround, but now I saw a pink hue as the edges turned slightly outwards.

I do not know if it was her intention to shock, I could understand how others might be repelled, but I was bewitched.

Even as I stared I tried to rationalize it. I told myself that it had nothing to do with sexual attraction, that it was simply an appreciation of the diversity of the female form, but my heart was tripping.

Gabriella had intimated that the previous evening had been her first experience with another woman but there was something in her quiet assurance that suggested that many others had knelt here, drawn in until there was no escape.

The scent was richer now and, in my imagination, I could almost taste her. That suggestion made me mentally recoil but I seemed physically incapable of movement.

She swept her fingers across her sex just once and I watched as the bright red nails grazed through the dark covering. That slight teasing was enough ease her labia apart revealing moist inner edges.

My whole body tingled as an internal battle raged. All reason told me to get up and walk away, assuring myself that our friendship could remain unaffected, but that was countered by a physical desire the like of which I had never known before.

I knew that if I crossed the Rubicon there might be no way back but there was now a new element influencing the scales. In spite of my trepidation, and my misgivings, I could not deny that my own body was reacting.

My nipples were firm and every tiny shift of the silky bathrobe seemed magnified but, more than that, there was moist heat between my legs which could not be denied.

For an instant I conjured an image of the pair of us locked together, our bodies opposed, as we brought one another pleasure and it seemed like a release.

It could indeed be "just this once", a reciprocated coupling to be secretly treasured and never spoken of again.

With the burden of decision lifted it was all too easy to surrender to my baser instincts but, even now, I was unsure. Her sex was beckoning and seemed to slowly fill my vision as I was drawn inwards without conscious thought.

I wanted her to say something, to invite me, but she remained regally silent. The decision was going to be mine to make but something told me that she was supremely confident of the outcome.

My eyes were shut as my closed lips experienced the first fleeting touch and I instinctively shrank away a little but it was enough to tell me that her labia were surprisingly cool.

I screwed up my courage and tried again but this time I used the very tip of my tongue. The taste was unexpectedly sharp, almost metallic, and certainly out of keeping with the richness of her scent.

I hid my disappointment as I began a tentative survey of the supple folds running my tongue gently along the fringes until they were slick with saliva and the taste was neutral.

I was intrigued by the way that they seemed to caress my tongue with each leisurely pass, as if pleading with me to stay, and it seemed natural to press a little more firmly accepting their welcome.

I kept this up for some minutes and I was pleased when she gave a quiet hum of pleasure. Taking this as my cue I braced my tongue and probed deeply. It took a little more effort than I imagined but the reward was almost indescribable.

There was a sudden heat and a steady pressure, which verged on being uncomfortable, but it was the inner wetness that took me by surprise. My tongue found a warm pool and I was swamped by the true taste of her.

It filled my mouth with the sweetness of a fine liqueur and I worked my tongue to savour it to the full.

Above me, she groaned and moved forward fractionally to allow me freer access. I took immediate advantage and licked at the walls of her sex coaxing more moisture from her.

For long minutes I was content to explore this new paradise but I felt in danger of sensory overload. I had my tongue so deep inside her that I was breathing moisture through my nose and it seemed to act directly on the pleasure centres of my brain.

I supposed that this must be what it was like when getting high but I was certain that no drug could increase my arousal to the levels that I was now experiencing.

The temptation to touch myself was almost irresistible but I did not want to distract from the pleasure I was taking with my mouth and the pleasure I was clearly giving her.

A film of perspiration glossed her thighs and her body began to quiver as she quietly urged me on.

"Don't stop..."

She squeezed my tongue with experienced muscles and her internal temperature rose.

"That's nice..."

Her voice was unsteady but there was no doubting who was in control. She put her hand gently but insistently at the back of my head.

"Suck me..."

With my tongue firmly fixed in the vice of her sex there was little else I could do. I closed my mouth and formed a seal but I found breathing difficult.

"Hold still..."

She stiffened and began to pant short, sharp, breaths. For a space of seconds we remained locked together and nothing seemed to happen. I wondered if this was it but then her body began to shake. At first it was barely noticeable but then the tremors increased in magnitude.

She groaned, an animal cry of release, and then I felt the first gout of moisture. I was taken completely by surprise as it washed over the back of my throat and it felt as if I was drowning. Before I even had a chance to panic there was a second outpouring but my throat had closed reflexively and I managed to hold it in my mouth.

Over the next few seconds she gushed at irregular intervals and I was able to swallow in a more controlled manner. In was a warm, rich, libation and, as I got used to it, I wanted more.

I had no idea that a woman could come in that way and, if it was a reflection of the intensity of her climax, I was extremely jealous.

It took a long time for her orgasm to ebb by which time I was licking up a final reluctant trickle.

"God, that was good..."

I looked up at her face but aside from a slightly heightened colour in her cheeks she looked composed. By contrast I knew that I was flushed and the fringe of my hair was matted with perspiration.

I remained as I was, unsure what to do next, with her moisture cooling on my face. She said nothing and simply smiled down at me as she petted my head.

I wondered if she expected me to kiss her but, perversely, in view of what had just taken place, that supposed a degree of intimacy with which I was entirely uncomfortable.

All I wanted was for her to return the favour but we seemed caught in an awkward hiatus. I did not want to ask outright and I guess that I hoped that she would make the transition quite naturally.

A few minutes passed and still neither of us moved. In one sense I was content; we were still bound together and I felt cocooned by our guilty secret but I could feel my sex leaking in anticipation.

At last she broke the silence.

"Are you ready?"

I smiled and half turned expecting her to trade places but I was caught unawares as she sinuously hooked a leg over my shoulder. Her sex was lewdly displayed as she pressed with two fingers to ease herself open.

The exposed inner membranes formed a vivid pink slash crowned at the apex with an astonishing clitoris. It appeared as a large, perfectly formed, pearl so much more obvious than my own.

It glistened with moisture, drawing attention to itself, and I was immediately envious. This was not a deep buried, hard to find, centre of pleasure it was a proud statement of womanhood.

My feelings were in turmoil. What she wanted was clear but I felt that she was being too greedy. On the other hand she may have been intimating that, when my turn came, she was prepared to be equally generous.

I was finally swayed by the almost hypnotic allure of that tantalizing bud. My tongue was a little sore from the unfamiliar exercise but I went to work once more.

Her clitoris was as firm as it looked and I licked at in a figure of eight motion. This had an almost immediate effect on her. She gave a shiver and then her body noticeably relaxed.

"Slow down...take your time..."

My attention to her reflected my own desperate need for an orgasm and I had to remind myself that she had already come once and wanted to be coaxed back to the boil.

I eased off and licked more slowly forming lazy circles as I familiarized myself.

Strangely, given that I was now using just the tip of my tongue, and my nose was raised from her, her scent seemed even stronger. It took me a moment to realize that her sex was seeping but, tempted as I was to lap it up, I remained as I was.

As the minutes passed my knees, back and neck all groaned with complaint but those tiny movements of my tongue were starting to have an effect.

"A little harder now..."

She still sounded in control but there was the slightest edge to her voice. I did as she asked and she gave a drawn out groan as her body started to writhe gently. I was fascinated by the way in which that seemingly insignificant circular pressure could draw out such a physical reaction from her.


She was dancing on the point of my tongue and I gave it all I had. She used both hands to hold me to her as she bucked wildly but she was past the point of no return. She started to come and fresh spurts of moisture spattered my chin and my throat.

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