tagLesbian SexRachel's Diving In

Rachel's Diving In


In 5 minutes time, I have my first lesbian sexual experience. Of course, I don't know that yet, but it's going to rock my socks off (not literally though, I get cold feet).

It was the day of the national diving championships. I stood naked in front of the gathering crowd -- their eyes stripping me of my tight, high-legged swimming costume that showed off my slender hips and supple breasts that protruded from my chest like fiery biscuits of joy. 10 meters. 10 meters to fall. 10 meters to prove myself. 10 meters to prove that, although I hadn't yet had a boyfriend, I was still worth something to this ever shrinking world (my father having recently kicked me out of the house because he was concerned that I was not yet married by the mature, but as of yet untouched by gravity, age of 19 and a half).

As I walked forwards, I noticed beneath my feet a moist, tepid feeling that reminded me of the feeling I always got at this stage of the competition. I lusted for the board like a hungry wolf lapping at the chlorine in an outdoor swimming pool. As I slowly reached towards the bounding, firm yet supple piece of wood, my clammy vagina gushed with the fury of a thousand tsunamis crashing in on each other. Surely my diving partner, Sally-Sue, would have noticed? Surely she would bore into me with her penetrating sexy eyes and see me for the freak I was? I glanced her way and showed her a nervous, lustful smile. Shocked, she quickly glanced away, but I could already see her leg dripping with fanny-juice.

Standing 15 meters above the pool with her, I could see her juices had formed a clear blister (with a similar consistency to angel delight), adhering to her firm and supple leg, like I would adhere to her desire. She glanced over at me, not knowing that I knew that she knew that they knew that her chasm had just ruptured. Innocently she winked, the sort of wink you give a friend when you're about to mentally penetrate them with your penis, but you don't want them to know; But conversely, not the kind of wink that you'd give to your mother. I nodded, not only referring to my knowledge of her sexual advance, but also the fact that it was time to move to the edge of the taut board. It was as if I could read her mind. Literally.

"Do me!" she screamed out of the depths of her mind. "Do me in the air! In the water! Cum on me as hard as the pressure created when a mass of roughly 60kg hits the surface of the water in a perfectly executed dive!"

We fell together through the chaos of the screaming crowd at 9.81m/s2. Gravity. Gravity cemented our love, our juices raging towards the water before we did. Before we knew it, we were beneath the water. My head between her legs, furiously lapping at her vagina like the sea laps the beach.

"bubble-lob-lob-bob-bubble!" she panted through the water.

"What was that, Sally-Sue? I didn't quite catch it due to my vagina being in your mouth." I replied, my lungs filling with the pearly white water we'd created.

"Sorry Rachel, I just wanted to say that this is awesome!" she screamed back at me.

I came with the knowledge that the crowd were screaming for us, at us, with us. In a torrent of vaginal discharge and menstruation. I looked into her eyes which were burning with love, or perhaps it was the chlorine...

The next thing I remember was waking up in the local hospital. Starved of oxygen, but not starved of her love. Although my head burnt with piercing pains (similar, yet not entirely like, having a tampon inserted into your anus) I couldn't help climbing into the bed next to mine. As I pulled back the covers, the deep sexy voice I knew so well welcomed me with:

"When's the next competition. We lost."

"Did we??" I replied in a burst of exclamation.

"Yes. You idiot."

"Say it isn't so! I will not go!"

I was raged. I was angry. I was angry to the power of love! I screamed (the sort of scream only a weak, dying patient on a hospital ward can give -- one that really makes the halls echo) and threw off my hospital gown. I stood, naked to her judgement as she bore into my fleshy breast with her seductive, moist eyes.

"Take it off." I stated simply. "Take it all off!"

She did. As she did, in a completely random chain of events, the boy in the next room with the broken leg tested out his new stereo that he got for his seventh birthday but hadn't used it yet because he had to go have an operation and the doctors said it would be painful for his head. Tom Jones, Sex Bomb. Oh yeah, gig-giddy gig-giddy. If my love for her was a bomb, it would be a nail bomb. My razor sharp shards of tainted love, piercing, ripping, shredding her clothes to get to her tender flesh. For my mouth to take her nipple hard between my teeth. For my fingers to gently squeeze her throbbing clit. For my ears to hear her deathly screams as she came and came and came and came. And came.

However, she didn't take her clothes off. She turned away and I never saw her again. Having had pressed the call button so that the nurses could strip me of her love. And my dignity. But I could still see her moistened leg dripping with love river.

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