Pretty Lin Ch. 04byhumminbean©
[Dear reader: This continues where ch.3 left off. Some points of ambiguity might be resolved if you read that first. With or without chapter 3, I hope you enjoy it.]
Micca and I just lay there, holding each other gently, not eager to get up. Maybe she or I dozed; the sound of rain made it easy. A few chunks of fruit remained from our breakfast earlier. I fed them to Micca and myself, alternating with small kisses and nibbles. Micca just lay, in happy exhaustion. I loved seeing my friend like that. Seeing her satisfied like that had an effect on me, too. It spawned a luscious sense of hunger, the kind that seemed to radiate out from between my legs.
After a while, I got up. I pulled on that big, comfy T-shirt, and carried our breakfast things to the sink. This studio apartment is too small for two messes at a time, so I washed up and set the dishes to dry. Just as I was finishing, I heard Micca get out of bed and come up behind me. I yelped and nearly dropped the dish when I felt her cool hand on my bare bottom.
"Michaela! You almost …" I started to say something.
"Shh, girlfriend." Her hand cupped my bottom, even as her other arm wrapped around my waist, up under my shirt. I felt her soft, heavy breasts against my back as she pulled me closer. She leaned over to nibble my ear, and whispered. "Did you know that this shirt rides up in the back?"
"Does it?" In truth, I thought it covered me, mostly. I suddenly understood those looks, the warm, longing looks I had seen on her when I wore this shirt.
"Yes, and it shows the cutest little buns in the world." She jiggled my butt with her hand, then moved around to hold me in front. She pulled my hips back, against the warmth of her lap. "Every time I see it, I want to reach over and touch it."
"Is that all you want?"
"No, Lin, it makes me want to hold you close." The hug shifted. The higher hand held my breast from underneath, and the lower one covered my pubis. "It makes me want to feel your body against mine, and feel you get excited."
The hand on my breast clasped the nipple between thumb and fingertip, rolling it gently. The hand between my legs massaged my vulva, so I could feel the inner folds shifting under her touch. I set the dish and towel down, so I wouldn't drop them. "Micca, do you know how excited I am already?"
"I'm getting a pretty good idea. This," she tweaked the upright nipple, "says a lot. And this," her hand cupped my vulva more tightly, "feels pillowy and warm. It only feels that way when your body wants something. And this," a finger pressed easily between my labia, "feels deep and slick."
She was right. Her fingertip ran up and down between my labia, opening me without really entering. I felt her spread the slickness, and work it along the rising crease of my clitoris. My knees almost went out from under me at that touch. It didn't end; she pressed hard against it, rocking it under the soft pad of her finger. I hadn't realized just how much Micca's earlier display had affected me.
"Micca, let me …" She didn't let me finish.
"Lin, let me. I want to feel you in my arms, feel you come. Is that OK? May I do that for you?"
I leaned over the counter, tilting my hips back into her thighs. I couldn't trust my voice by that point, so I just put my hand between my legs, over hers. My touch said that hers was where I wanted it. I spread my legs a little more and caressed the back of her hand.
As new as she was to making love like this, Micca's touch felt perfect. One hand massaged my breast, with occasional rasps of her nails at the tips. The other flickered over my clit, as if pouring the waves of tension into my vagina. Her touch roamed at times, collecting more moisture, keeping the friction light and slick. Both hands pulled me close, as if enveloping my small body in her larger one.
I don't often stand during sex. The extra tension in my legs added a dimension. Instead of just rocking my hips, I felt my knees flex. Soon, my body demanded more. Instead of just touching the hand she held between my legs, I pushed it harder. I reached down, too, to press against my vagina as she held my labia and tickled my clit.
Far sooner than I expect, orgasm burned inside me. If she hadn't supported me, my bucking legs might not have held me up. My finger drove inward, forcing itself against my inner muscles. My whole body arched against hers. I felt a tug at my nipple, the kind that would have been too hard a moment earlier, and warm breath where my neck and shoulder joined. I rode that wave, then the next, and the one after that. More waves came over me too, but not with such crashing effect. My voice returned. I panted between the bursts of intensity, and moaned within them.
In a moment, my body nearly collapsed. I leaned onto the counter, supporting myself on both elbows. Micca's grip around me unwound partway, but continued to hold my bottom against her warm thighs. She could no longer hold my breast, but stroked my shoulders and back. I held her other hand in the warmth where my thighs parted, as if holding the last tremors of orgasm inside. Soon, even that faded into a happy glow. I pulled her hand away, up toward my lips. I kissed those long, loving fingers, and tasted my own sweet musk on them.
Soon, I could trust my legs again. Still leaning against the counter, I turned to face Micca. She's taller than me but her breasts lie lower on her chest, so hers and mine pressed together. I reached up to kiss her, to share a little of the taste on my lips. She returned the kiss with soft, wide warmth.
She looked at me and said, "I owed you one. More maybe, but I hope that's a good start."
"You don't owe me anything. And yes, it was very good." We stood there a moment longer, holding the warmth between us and rocking a little, almost like slow dancing. The low rustle of rain seemed to isolate us from the world, creating an insulating cocoon around us. Come to think of it, the rain was quieter than before, and had stopped coming in waves.
I looked up and asked, "It sounds quieter out there. Do you want to go out?"
"You mean running?"
"No, it's still to wet for that, but it sounds like an umbrella would let us do the galleries."
"OK, I'm up for it." She sniffed, and added, "But I hope you don't want to go smelling like this."
"I thought you liked my smell." I teased her with a cartoony pout.
"I do, but I'm afraid every guy on the block will too, and I don't feel like sharing." She tugged my pelvis against hers as she said it.
"Well, I guess that's OK." I teased again. "Let's get showers before we go."
"Showers plural? I hoped one would do for the two of us."
"Sorry, that's what I meant." We let go of each other and started into the bathroom.
Micca adjusted the water while I got towels out. Drying my hair would take too long, so I twisted it into a high bun and stuck a barrette in it. We washed each other, taking a little extra time for play. Micca seemed different, somehow, more attuned to me than usual. Each time I touched her, she would lean or open up to make it easier for me, as if hoping for something more. I pressed one finger up inside her while washing between her legs; it slid in easily. She nibbled her lip when I did and put her hands on my shoulders, but didn't resist at all. I tugged gently, pulling her close for a kiss, then released her. We played with the sprayer a little, then finished and dried each other.
Micca dressed in a calf-length white skirt. Eyelets near the hem and white embroidery gave it a feminine look. Above that, she wore a gray, ribbed tank top with wide shoulder straps. The ribs widened where the shirt stretched over her curves, giving emphasis she hardly needed. I picked a denim skirt, a little above the knee. On top, I wore a short-sleeve button-down shirt over a white tube top. I liked the look with the shirt tucked in and open down to the bottom button. I also liked the looks I always got when I wore that, especially when I folded the tube top lengthwise to make it even narrower. It didn't cover much that way, but I don't have much to cover. A girl has to do the best with what she's got, right?
On the way out of the apartment, Micca and I both stepped into sandals that wouldn't mind the wet. She led the way out so I could lock up behind us. Her lovely, wide hips swayed as she walked in front of me. The swinging skirt swayed with her, making me think of a church bell. She opened the umbrella at the bottom of the stairs, and we set out.
We had to stay close to keep both of us dry, but that was easy. It felt right, too. I wanted to feel close to Micca that day, and she seemed to want the same. I still felt sense I had earlier, that she was more attuned to me than usual. I liked it. It made me feel cared for. But it gave some other feeling, too, as if Micca were expecting something from me, or looking for something. That seemed silly, so I turned and gave her a little peck of a kiss. Her response, as if starting to melt from that little touch, didn't make the feeling go away. It wasn't a bad feeling, just a little funny.
The galleries in this college town cover the whole range, from funky and edgy, to the great masters (old and new), to art that goes with the furniture. Coffee shops and other local stores often put work by local artists on their walls, too. It doesn't cost anything to look, and there's plenty to fill a day with, or at least a rainy afternoon like ours. Also, one of Micca's friends was opening a show of her paintings at one of the coffee shops. We stopped in to pay our respects – and to get some free wine and cheese at the opening.
The farmers' market was our last stop before heading back. The overcast sky darkened as evening approached; the summer rain took on an un-summery chill. We picked up a few things for supper, then splurged on some wine bottled locally – a white and a red.
If we had been just a little faster or a few minutes earlier, we would have missed the downpour. As it was, the rain picked up when we were about ten minutes from home, driven almost sideways by gusting wind. My shirt plastered itself to my back and chest; Micca's skirt took on a bedraggled look. It also turned almost transparent where it clung wetly to her. It could have been worse. Her undies were clearly visible through the thin, wet cotton, but it would have been equally visible if she weren't wearing any.
We headed straight to the bathroom as soon as we got in and peeled off our wet things. Micca seemed especially eager to get the sodden bra off. "Something about that one really chafes when it gets wet," she explained. We toweled each other off and hung the wet things until I could get them into the apartment's coin-op dryer. I wrapped myself in a thick terry robe. Micca was still shivering when she pulled on sweatpants and buttoned on one of my fleeces. I made us each a cup of tea to warm up with. Distant thunder sounded as I started turning our produce into a stir-fry.
The rice was half done and I was about to start on the stir-fry when the lights flickered a couple of times and went out. For once, I was happy that the antiquated kitchenette had a gas stove, so supper wouldn't be affected much. There was barely enough light for me to find the drawer with candles, holders, and matches. I set the first one up where I was cooking and put three more at the table for Micca to deal with. She sighed, "So much for that reading assignment," then sat at the table and lit the candles.
The four candles lit the meal quite nicely, once our eyes adapted. We each had two helpings of the spicy vegetables and tofu over rice, and got giggly on the wine. Candle light created a close, warm environment. I cleared the dishes, then realized that dessert probably wouldn't work as planned. The worst of our wet chill had passed. We really hadn't warmed up, though, and the evening had cooled fast as the storm front moved through. I offered, "Ice cream?"
Micca shivered visibly. "No th-thanks. Is there anything else?"
I looked around. "How about some hot chocolate and a little of this?" I found a bottle of Bailey's and held it up to her.
Micca's smile added to the candle-lit glow. "How about some hot chocolate with a lot of that?"
I mixed cocoa, sugar, and milk on the stove while Micca moved the candles to the bedside table. Next time I looked over, she was huddled under the covers, leaning against the wall next to the bed, with her bare shoulders showing above the blanket. They hadn't been bare a moment ago.
I set the Bailey's and the mugs of cocoa next to the candles. Micca stared at me with a happy grin as I dropped the robe, climbed into bed, and arranged the blanket over my legs. We each took a big sip from our mug, to make room for more Bailey's, then sat back against each other. I put my hand on her leg under the blanket, and she did the same to me. Even though she's taller than me, she slid down the wall to my shoulder height. At one point, she leaned over with cocoa-warm lips and grasped my nipple. I felt it rise at the touch. That was a pleasant change from earlier, when they were almost sore from stiffening in the cold.
Lin finished her cocoa and passed me the empty mug. "More?" I asked, and she shook her head 'no.' I set the mug down, then leaned back to finish my own. She shifted around so her head was in my lap, a very trusting gesture. It looked almost kittenish, in fact, which seemed not to fit her height and powerful build. I accepted the affection in the gesture, though, and traced the edge of her ear with a fingertip.
She lay with her head on my thigh, looking away, buried in covers. After a few minutes of easy silence, she spoke in a small voice. "Lin?"
"Mmm?" I answered without words.
"When we made love this morning, uh …" she faltered.
"Was that too much? I wasn't sure you'd …"
"No!" She pulled the blanket off my lap, kissed the first piece of thigh she could find, and pulled it back before settling in again. "It was wonderful. It was, I don't know. The most amazing thing I ever felt. I didn't know a body could experience anything like that. Lin, you were fine. You were more than fine. You were incredible." She wriggled her shoulders again until she found the most comfortable spot on my lap.
"There's something else, though. I don't want to sound weird, I don't know how to say it so it sounds the way I want it to."
"Take your time, Micca. Find the right words. I'm not going anywhere."
I held the head cradled in my lap for another few minutes. Micca looked about to speak two or three times, then stopped herself. Finally, she started.
"I loved what you were doing, I loved the feeling you gave me inside. That was so intense that I didn't think there was room for anything else in me. But, the whole time, I was getting pictures in my mind. I'm not even sure where they come from."
"Parts of pictures, at least, almost strung together into a story. And the story followed along with the wonderful things you were doing."
"What kind of story?" Micca was circling around something, too shy to approach it directly. Whatever it was seemed to matter to her, though, and telling me mattered as well.
"It was kind of a fairy tale story, about a beautiful princess. She …" Micca stalled at this point, too nervous to go on.
I let the silence go on until it started to seem uncomfortable. "May I guess, Micca? Was the princess captured?" Micca nodded yes.
"Her captors tied her up." Nod.
I paused before the next guess. "And they undressed her." A little shiver, and another nod.
"And they did things to her." Nod.
"Like I was doing to you." A shaky breath, a little nod, and her hug tightened.
"Against her will." That seemed to be the trigger, the thing that Micca was really concerned about.
Micca sat up fast at that, and words started pouring out of her mouth. "Yes, but it wasn't like that, you weren't doing anything like that, I loved what you were doing, but the men who had the princess – brpp" Her lips burbled when I put a finger against them, hushing her.
"Micca, I would never do anything you don't want. You know that, right?" I took my finger away from her lips and hugged her. She nodded, not looking at me.
"It was a fairy tale, like your mother used to tell you, but with the grownup parts left in." She nodded again, then almost started a torrent of words again. I hushed her with a finger.
"Things happen in fairy tales that you'd never want in real life, don't they?" Nod again.
"But it's just a fantasy, just a story. That doesn't mean bad things were happening, or that you want them to happen."
Micca still couldn't look at me, but finally spoke. "That's it, Lin. I didn't want you to think …," she paused again.
"That I was doing what those men did in the story?"
"That's right. You were being so sweet to me, Lin, not like that," She gave a teary sniff, then wiped her eye with the back of her hand.
"And you don't want to be treated like in the story, not for real."
"Oh god, no." Micca almost curled into a ball when she said it.
I tipped her chin up. A moment after her face turned toward me, she looked at me, too. I kissed her, hugged her, rocked her. "That's what stories are for, Micca, the ones with scary parts. Scary things can happen in stories, but not bad like in real life. You know there's going to be a happy ending. And it wasn't about anything real." She nodded into my shoulder and sniffed again.
I lay her down on the pillow, then pinched out the candles. I lay back next to her, and worked my arm around her again. We pulled the covers up to block out the rainy chill. Our legs laced together warmly. I pulled her hip close, and relaxed into the skin-to-skin intimacy.
The sound of rain soothed the darkness, with occasional rumbles of far thunder. Tonight, though, it wasn't putting me to sleep. It felt as if Micca hadn't relaxed into sleep either. After I lay for a while in the darkness, I whispered, "Micca?"
She answered sleepily, "Mmm?" Her hand tightened behind my thigh when she did.
"I get little pictures in my mind sometimes, too." She made a sleepy noise and pulled me closer. I kissed her. "Not like yours, I don't think, not real stories."
Her hands moved over me in the darkness: hip, waist, shoulder, and back again. Her long, soft curves moved under my touch, too. I wasn't sure if I should ask, if it would make Micca upset again, but I was too intrigued to let it go. "Micca?"
"Could you tell me the story you saw? The one you told me about?"
Her hands stopped, her whole body seemed to tighten. I was afraid of that. I hugged her close and hard. "Only if you want to. I mean, you started, and --"
Micca cut in, quietly. "It wasn't a whole story, Lin, just pieces."
"Could you make them into a whole story? For me?"
Something happened when I spoke the words, 'for me.' Micca seemed to melt against me. I could barely hear her answer. "OK. For you." Then, so I could hear her better, "Just give me a moment to think."
In my arms, in the darkness, Micca seemed to shrink until she felt smaller than me. I held her, stroked her, kissed her shoulder, until she started to speak. "Once upon a time."
Maybe it wasn't the most complex story in the world, and maybe the abduction scene was borrowed from "The Princess Bride." That's not the point. Micca was sharing something with me, in that rainy darkness. Her quiet voice, barely above a whisper, spoke to me alone. Soon, that voice started on the sexy part of the story.
Once that started, the action really did follow our morning lovemaking pretty closely. I mean, the physical activity – the emotional state of the captive princess was nothing like ours had been, even though her body responded like Micca's had. In fact, the way Micca spun this fantasy suggested a lot more than I had sensed about how she felt during our play. Hearing about the mounting excitement had the predictable effect on me.