Lynn’s Journeys Ch. 02


Continued from part 1…

It couldn’t have been more than five seconds, after Brie’s question, before I kissed her, her face framed by my hands. But in those quick seconds I processed the following:

Door number one was the “Stepford” existence of my two sisters and their respective broods; I don’t fucking think so.

Door number two was to bow to conventional roles and continue with my faked orgasms with guys; I’m sorry, it just didn’t happen for me with the men I’ve been with. Most were adequate lovers; some were well endowed, but no bingos except by my own hand. Been there, done that, and don’t want to do it any longer.

Door number three; well, that was the unknown, wasn’t it? What’s the worse that could happen? You don’t like it? Or is it that you might like it?

I am not ‘queer’!

I placed my hands on her face, my fingertips feeling the heat of her skin, and drawing her to me, I kissed her; I kissed her for a deliciously long time, her mouth so wet, so warm, her tongue slithering into my opened mouth, sending fire to my crotch.

“No one has ever kissed me like that, no one,” I said, staring into her captivating blue eyes; closing my eyes, I leaned forward and found her mouth again, open, warm, and waiting for my own. I leaned back against the couch, my hands pulling her with me. Her hand crept under my sweater, rubbing the swell of my breasts spilling over the top of my French bra.

Keeping her hand under my sweater, she broke off the kiss and suggested we enjoy the view from the hot tub for a bit.

“After all, you’re spending the night aren’t you? So let’s enjoy this night since there’s no rush, is there?” her mouth close to my face; her breath was intoxicating and warm, her hand under my bra now, her fingers tenderly tweaking my nipple.

“No, there’s no rush, no rush at all,” loving what her fingers were doing.

Brie kissed me, a short, sweet kiss; then standing, she took my hand in hers and I rose from the couch with her. I’m 5′ 7″ tall, and standing next to her, I had to look up to her face. Definitely at least 5′ 10″, I thought to myself, admiring her tall stature.

She fiddled with the controls for the hot tub; a small tub, four really good friends, I thought, but just right for two or three.

You’re really going to try this?

I think I am.

And you’re scared? Of what?

That I might like it?

“Follow me,” she said to me, “While the tub’s warming, we’ll hang up our clothes, and I’m assuming that you’re okay without a swimsuit?”

“I’m okay with that,” I answered as she took my hand in hers, leading me upstairs to her bedroom loft space.

She handed me hangers; we both started taking our clothes off, my eyes watching eagerly as we took off our bras at the same time. Her breasts were as gorgeous as I had imagined in my masturbatory images, freckles sprinkled on their swell. They were firm, like mine, with little droop, her areolas and nipples, larger than casino siteleri my own a wee bit.

“What in the world?” I heard from her when I stepped out of my bikini briefs, her eyes staring at my bush. Walking closer, she pulled me into better light, and kneeling on one knee, she eyed my panther.

No, my pink panther; a tattoo of the ‘Pink Panther’ pushing a lawnmower across the top of my pubes, a bit of pubic hair left in front of the mower, a clean straight cut under the figure.

Looking up from my pubes to my face, her face was in a questioning look.

“Too much tequila one night when I was in college,” answering her unasked query.

“It’s adorable,” she said, kissing it afterwards.

Snow had started falling when we returned to the tub; gently falling giant flakes, illuminated by the lights from the roof of her building, a most magical sight.

“Sit here, with me, facing the windows,” Brie said.

I sat next to her, on the lowest seat, warm bubbling water up to our necks. She held my hand in hers as we relaxed against the seat-back, lost in the beauty falling outside of her windows. I turned and kissed her shoulder, her eyes turning to look down at me, as I looked up, placing small kisses on her shoulder, small cuddling kisses.

“And you’ve never made love to a woman, you say,” her arm around my shoulder now, hugging me to her.

“There was a thing with a roommate in college but we were both drunk,” I said.

“We’ve all had some of those, sweetie.”

And taking me along with her, we moved to the higher seat, the water now at our waists. She took a finger and ran it along my lips, pausing for me to kiss it; then trailing it to my nipple, her hand spreading to caress my breast, she kissed me. I brought my own hand to her breast as I surrendered to the fires burning, blazingly hot, in my pussy. Her tongue entered my mouth and I sucked it in, sucked it like a cock, my hand squeezing her breast, just as she was doing to me.

Holding my mouth tight to hers, her hand fell to my ‘Vee’, rubbing softly across my pubes, my panther; she was supporting my head in the crook of her arm as we kissed, both of my hands on her breasts, kneading them softly and feeling her hard nipples on my palms. Her other hand had separated the folds of my labia, exposing the pink folds that they hid, her thumb making circles on my ‘man’.

Does it feel as good as you thought it would with her?

NO! It’s such much better than I ever imagined.

So now what, princess?

Leave me alone, let me enjoy this; get the fuck away!

Her fingers were in me now, two, I think. She moved my head to her breast, holding me against her as I sucked, kissed and licked; first one, then, the other. I had one arm and hand on her smooth back, stroking my fingers up and down her spine; my other hand was on her ass, squeezing, caressing.

“Honey, if this is truly your first time making love to a woman, the Sapphic Sisterhood slot oyna is missing a sibling,” contented coos mixed in between pauses, her hands rubbing my hair, her fingers tangled in my tresses.

I didn’t answer her, my mouth was full with her breast, and my tongue was dancing with her nipple.

Are you sure that your sister isn’t right about you?

No, I’m not, and furthermore I don’t give a damn.

To say I achieved an orgasm would be like comparing a Shuttle launch at Canaveral to a nickel bottle-rocket launch. I know I screamed, but it was muffled by her breast in my mouth. Pulling my mouth from her tit, the scream had become a murmuring of gobbly-gook, making sense to no one.

“Ahhhh, sweet Mother of Mary, Brie, surely that hand is registered as a dangerous weapon,” kissing the swell of her breasts, kissing those enticing freckles, taking quick sucks of her nipples.

“So, it was good for you, then?” her hand and fingers rubbing over my pubes lightly, her chin resting on my head as I suckled her.

“My best orgasm, masturbating, pales in comparison to what just happened; indescribably delicious, unfucking real,” taking a deep, contented breath afterwards.

“How about we dry off, finish Mr. big, and continue this lovely evening upstairs,” holding my head to her chest, my arms around her as well.

She dimmed the lights in the loft, illuminated now by indirect lighting nooks, providing more of a glow. I looked at our reflection in the tall window we were standing in front of, passing the joint and eyeing the softly falling snow. It was one of those moments that will stay with you for life, and fondly so.

This time, it was I who took her hand in mine, leading her to her bed; our bed, tonight.

Do you know what you’re going to do when you get in bed with her?

I have a pretty good idea.

So what’s your plan ms. Know-it-all?

I’ll do to her what I would want done to me.

Good plan.

I did exactly that, knowing what I’d want. I kissed her after I laid her on the bed, her head on a pillow, allowing my hand to find her bush, for my fingers to slowly separate her ‘lips’ as she done to me. Familiar territory for my experienced hands; they certainly had a lot of practice with me, perfecting it to an art-form. Her wetness was warm; her scent drawing me to her crotch. I slipped between her spreading legs, crooked at the knees, my arms around her thighs and I lowered my head to another woman’s pussy.

Is the taste of another woman as you thought it’d be?

Don’t know what I thought it’d be, but it’s wonderful.

On a scale of one to ten, you’d say…”

Shut the fuck up, I’m busy, bitch.

I was absolutely loving the feel of her clit as I sucked on it, and the more I sucked, the wetter she became which excited me even more; sort of like a perpetual motion machine, ya’ know?

Her screams when she orgasmed were loud, and if someone had lived above her, they would canlı casino siteleri have heard. As her hips slowed in their bucking, I licked and sucked her juices, relishing the taste; finding actually, that her tastes and my own were very similar.

She pulled me to her, to lie next to her as she hugged, kissed and devoured me with her mouth and tongue. Her time at my pussy was shorter than mine; try as hard as I might, I could not hold back the bursting dam of bliss.

We played with each other like that, until the early hours of Sunday morning. Bowing to exhaustion, we fell asleep; me, snuggled close to her side, my pussy against her thigh and her arm holding me close.

It was fun having wake-up sex with somebody else rather than my own hand. We dragged ourselves out of bed and into the shower together, which of course, led to more sex. We whipped up a ‘brunch’, neither of us yet to put a stitch of clothes on our bodies, eating at the kitchen bar. Another hot tub session, which led to more sex. You get the picture here?

Standing at her door, our arms around each other, the goodbye kisses wouldn’t end. Finally, standing back and looking at me, Brie asked, “Got any plans for next weekend, baby?” brushing my hair from my eyes with her hand. I’ve got to get to the salon and have Maurice give me a cut; mental note to myself.

“No, not now anyway,” I answered, punctuating it with a short kiss to her lips.

“Want to spend the weekend and join our monthly poker game?”

“Poker? I like poker,” my attention having been gotten.

“Once a month, there are four of us gals that meet at someone’s place, to play poker, get drunk, and have a slumber party. Sometimes people fuck, sometimes they don’t but, we have fun,” explaining it simply.

“Will a fifth player upset them? Will they be okay with a new person at the table?” I asked her.

“I’m sure they’ll be very happy to have you join our little group,” she said, “and Friday night will be for us, you and I; Saturday night will be the game, and on Sunday mornings we deal with the aftermath of Saturday,” kissing me on my nose.

“Will you let me take us to dinner, Friday night?” I asked her.

“Yes, it’s a date, and you’ll bring a weekend bag?”

“I will,” kissing her one last time and waving goodbye as the elevator doors closed on our waves to each other.

The snow had stopped, the city had done its usual fine job of plowing and the drive was safe. Kicking off my shoes, I sorted through my mail collected from the mail drop, check my phone messages-Jan dropped another one, a niece, yea!- and hit the shower.

I lit the fireplace, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat on my couch, sipping and staring. I stared at the dancing flames, searching for an answer; to what? I wasn’t sure.

Okay, so was door number three the right choice?

I’m not sure.

Name one thing that you regret about this weekend.

I can’t.

Would you do it again?

In a fucking heartbeat.

Then, what’s your problem?

The fact that I don’t have a problem?

In the end, I slept peacefully Sunday night, and I dreamed of poker with the girls, and of sparsely freckled breasts.

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