Introduction:
This is not a story I wrote myself. I found it elsewhere years ago, and thought I’d share.
It had been a fairly interesting evening. Although I don’t much go for bars of any description, I do like to play pool, and on Wednesday night we had the pool tournament down at the Other Place (silly name for a gay bar, but I’ve seen worse). For the past several weeks, I had won easily, although there was much amazement at my technique… I came an hour early, bought a pitcher of beer, listened to music and drank. Then, just before the tournament, I bought _another_ pitcher, played two practice games, and then I was
ready. Every week, the other entrants all looked for me to be an easy mark with that much alcohol inside me. And every week the alcohol loosened up my hyper-analytical personality, letting me relax, keeping me from doing mechanics calculations prior to each shot, and let me sink any shot I called out to the amused and amazed on-lookers. This week was the same, and I was in the final best-of-three games in the last round, playing against the final challenger to see who would get the prize.
She’d introduced herself as we met over the table, saying her name was Kim. She was an attractive woman, maybe an inch under six feet unshod, just a bit over in the ropers she was wearing. She had golden blonde hair, eyes so green that tawdry words like “emerald” couldn’t do them justice, a beautiful, smart-ass grin, and what seemed to be a very well-made body in those tight Wrangler jeans. I did all the cataloguing somewhere in the back of my head, as I watched her racking the balls on the velvet; she grinned as she
took the rack away, twirling it between her fingers as it cleared the tops of the balls. Now I was tipsy enough still not to be too tight, but even so I could feel the tension as I poised myself to break. An observer looking at me would have seen a fairly pretty but intent woman, clad in the standard uniform for the Other Place: jeans, boots, tight T-shirt. I was bent over the end of the table, the round curves of my ass emphasized by the tight denim jeans, my blue eyes intent on the table before me. I brushed my long, ash- blonde hair away from my face, placed the cue just so, set myself, and uncoiled through the place where the white ball had been a moment earlier. My break was unorthodox and even a bit silly- looking, but I got the balls well-scattered, and two dropped. This would be a good game, the magic was all in place. My opponent brushed against my hip as I rounded the table, an accidental contact as she stepped out of my way, letting me take my place for my next shot. “Nice break!” she told me, flashing a mega-watt grin my way. I hardly noticed, other than to smile back before shooting again. This time I couldn’t make the pocket, and I stood aside to watch the other woman play. What was her name? Oh yes, Kim.
The grin she had worn before was gone as she carefully considered the table from all sides. She was intent and methodical, carefully setting up her shot, checking the angle, and finally sinking the ball in such a fluid, graceful motion that I was momentarily amazed that a human body should move so smoothly. She shot again, and again, and I began to wonder if I’d get another chance, until at last she missed, and I had another opportunity. It was easier this time, as she’d gotten several of her balls out of the way: eventually I missed a shot again. We went back and forth over that game, which I won by just a hair… that being the distance she’d been off when she’d shot at the eight and missed. The second and third games were much the same, and when it was all over, I had won numbers one and three, I had a twenty-five dollar bar tab as my prize, while she had ten. “Care to drink one on me?” I asked her, indicating the pitcher-full of amber liquid. She
grinned and agreed, and we took ourselves over to a table at the side of the room. We tried briefly to talk, but as soon as the tournament was through, the owner cranked up the music, substituting disco with a heavy bass line for the country and western that they tended to play for “us girls.” It was after ten now, and the guys were starting to come in: in another hour, they’d have the place pretty much to themselves. It was impossible to make ourselves heard over the too-loud music, so we drank and watched others in companionable silence. Finally, I asked if she’d like to head over to Denny’s for some coffee and a chance to talk, and she shouted her agreement over the music. We escaped outside into the cool, quiet dark.
When our ears quit ringing, she made a counter-suggestion. It was late, she’d be disturbing the people she lived with if she traipsed in at this hour, and how about if she crashed at my house, and took me for coffee in the morning? I thought the idea sounded wonderful, and told her that my sister was out of town, so I had
an extra bed, freshly made up, and that I’d be glad to have her stay over. She followed me the few miles to my home, and we went inside. We talked for an hour or two, sipping rich, dark, imported ales that seemed almost sweet after the American brews at the bar. We talked about inconsequential things, she telling me about her job on campus, and me explaining to her that I was a student, and so on. We were almost exactly the same age, as I’d just recently gone back to school, our families came from the same part of the
state, and we were from from similar types of families. Eventually we headed upstairs, where I showed her to the master bedroom. “I hate to mess up your sister’s bed,” she said to me, “and I see you have a kingsize. How about if I just sleep on the other side of your bed? You don’t mind, do you?” I thought nothing about it, and told her that that would certainly be all right with me. I showed her my drawer-full of T-shirts and assorted nightwear, and told her to help herself while I took a quick shower to relax after the tension generated by the over-loud music.
When I came back to my room, relaxed and dressed in a crisp, clean, oversized men’s oxford shirt, she was already in bed with the covers pulled up under her chin. I got the lights out, and crawled in with her. “Do you mind if I snuggle up next to you?” she asked. “I’ll do it after I’m asleep anyway.” This was not quite-
so-standard in the “slumber-party/girls-sleeping-over” model I had in my head, but I readily acquiesced. This lady was beautiful enough to be a professional model, she had a wonderful, innocent air to her, and I was being ridiculous to even suspect that she was coming on to me at all. I told her of course that would be fine,
and so she eeled over against me where I lay on my back, draping her right arm across my waist, her right leg over my leg, and pillowing her head in the hollow of my shoulder. My heart was definitely beating a bit faster than usual, but I tried to relax, shut my eyes, and go to sleep. “Do not,” I sternly warned myself,
“even think that this woman is interested in you! You’ll piss her off if you suggest it and possibly ruin what could be a very nice friendship!” The internal lecture was in full swing, when she began stroking her fingers down my side, back again over my ribs, across my breast, and down again. I groaned silently, hoping that she wouldn’t notice my tension or arousal… “She said she wanted to cuddle, she’s half asleep, you are NOT going to respond to this and scare her off!” I told myself angrily. “She doesn’t even know you! You’re being ridiculous!” I told myself. But her hand continued its teasing glide over my body, and every few minutes her fingers would trail across one hardened nipple, driving me mad with the electric jolt of arousal that shot straight into the growing warmth in my loins each time she did it. Finally I caught her hand with my own.
She looked up at me with an inquisitive look. Hoarsely I told her, “If you keep that up, you’re going to be in trouble…” Her answering grin could have lit the football stadium, “Maybe I want to be in trouble!”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “Oh.” was all I could manage, and now her teasing fingers had started unbuttoning my shirt, and she was sitting up, looking down at me, all the while grinning in obvious pleasure. It wasn’t that I thought myself unattractive, mind you, that had caused me to be so slow on the uptake. It was simply that she was so utterly beautiful and graceful, I felt like a mortal honored unduly with the prescence of a goddess. And right now that goddess was stroking tight little circles around my nipples, causing them to crinkle down into hard peaks, which her fingers rubbed and tweaked and pulled. I don’t think I have ever been so aroused, before or since. I pulled her down to me, meeting her lips with mine, and kissing her was like drinking honey wine; sweet, intoxicating. In my single previous affair with a woman, I was usually the one who took the lead in sex, and that old girlfriend had always encouraged me in the
“butch” role. But when I tried to take the initiative now, Kim pressed me back against the bed, telling me that I was to lay back and enjoy what she was doing. It felt, well, indescribably sensual. Having her make love to me this way made me feel utterly feminine, in a way that making love to men, or even another woman never had, and I loved the feeling.
She undressed me, making me lift my hips so that she could slide my panties down over my ass, then leaned down and kissed me, pulling me up with her into a soft embrace as she slid the shirt back off my shoulders. The velvet softness of her breasts against mine was unabashedly sensuous. My arms were around her now, stroking her back and sides while our lips stayed locked togethr, our tongues battling silently in their own satin caress. Before I could try and tease her out of her clothes, she pushed my back
again against the pillows, and kissed me softly on the lips, the cheek, nibbled at my earlobe a moment, then outlined the ear with her hot, wet tongue. I moaned again, as her hands continued doing wicked and wonderful things to my nipples and her tongue traced intricate patterns along the soft skin of my throat, dwelt a moment in the hollow between my collar bones. Soon her lips fastened on one hard nipple, though the other was not neglected either, being rolled between her long, strong fingers. Her tongue, which had seemed so soft against my own while we were kissing, now became a hard, demanding instrument, flickering in fast circles around the nipple, tracing the aureole, her lips nibbling the hard peak, sucking gently then firmly. My world narrowed under this treatment, focusing only on the sensations from my nipples and the answering
twinges between my legs. I felt helpless, empowered, exalted, abashed, wanton, shy…
My breath was coming in hash, ragged gasps, and I could hear myself moaning as I neared orgasm solely from the wonderfully wicked things she was doing to my breasts. She was well aware of my situation, though, and suddenly the air was cold on my wet nipples, and her warm lips were seeking their way down the arch of my ribs, across my sides (ticklish… she grinned me another wicked grin), then planted a kiss above the triangle of Venus. She wordlessly encouraged me to pull my knees up, as she stationed herself between my legs. Her voice was a bit ragged, too, when she instructed me to reach down and part the wet folds for her tongue. A shock of pleasure rocked my body as her lips softly touched my clitoris is a gentle kiss. She bent her head, just teasing with the tip of her tongue, dipping first deep into my well, then running
it up along the slit, meeting my clitoris again. Now she pressed her lips tightly against me, the pressure of her kiss holding the hood of my clitoris back, exposing the sensitive head to the searching, flickering dance of her skilled tongue. I could feel my back arching as if each touch of her tongue wound me tighter and
tighter, a spring coiling to a level of unbearable tension. “Let me…” she whispered, pausing from the alchemy she was working to look up and twine my fingers with hers, holding my hands tightly above my pubis in her strong grasp, before bending her head back to my center. Her strong grasp had my hands pinioned, her arms encircling my hips and holding me down against the bed, while licked and sucked and stroked and flickered… the orgasms started very quietly, slow gentle waves of pleasure rolling through me, until she let go of one hand and suddenly plunged her fingers into my pussy causing me to gasp, to buck, to cry out as the real orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. I had time to think, confused, that I’d been wrong all these years, I’d never had an orgasm, THIS was an orgasm, and ohmigod, could I live through such intense, overwhelming, soul-straining pleasure? I SCREAMED with the release, barely hearing the noise over the pounding of my pulse in my ears, and my vision started to tunnel down, grayness blacking out the edges of my vision. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the experience. The orgasm kept happening, and each moment I was amazed again as the strength of it increased. My legs were trembling, I could feel my hips moving involuntarily, restrained from out-and- out bucking by the grasp of her arm around me, both of my hands gripping her one like a lifeline, holding on in mingled terror and exaltation. Then she took her fingers out of my pulsing cunt, just for a moment, before sinking her thumb back into me… but now her wet, slippery fingers were teasing my asshole, playing with the tight rosebud there, until she slipped first one, then two digits inside. I had never felt anything like the sensations that shot through me now. She was lashing my clit with her experienced tongue, her thumb and fingers were pumping in and out of me, simultaneously piercing both ass and cunt, and I continued to come, continued to scream, I could feel tears rolling down my face, I
couldn’t take anymore, I couldn’t sustain this level of stimulation… ohmigod, I can’t take it, oh no, no, oh god… Awareness came back to me gradually, like the quiet stealing advance of dawn across the dimly lit twilight hours. I don’t know if I actually fainted or whether my brain just couldn’t process the data anymore. Kim was now kissing and softly licking my clit, no longer directly on the exposed head, her fingers inside me still, but motionless. I could feel my muscles clench upon her fingers as occasionally small waves of pleasure would ripple through me, aftershocks after earthquake, the tide behind the tsunami. In a moment I would make love to her…
Kim pulled herself up and lay atop my body, her long legs twining with mine. I kissed her, putting all my heart and soul into it, the taste of my own juices reminding me of the amazing feelings that I’d just experienced, and causing weak aftershocks of orgasm. As if she could read my mind, Kim shifted so that one of her legs was between mine, applying firm pressure against my clit. I couldn’t keep my hips still, even though I was still trembling with the exhaustion of the tremendous series of orgasms that I’d just had. Each slow thrust of her hip against my cunt evoked an answering orgasm, and this continued for several minutes as we kissed long and passionately. I couldn’t believe, even now, that this wonderful, lovely woman was making love to me. My hands were wandering up underneath the T-shirt she had on, stroking along her sides, running softly down her back.
All at once, my eyes filled with tears, and I hugged her fiercely so that she wouldn’t see. I had had at least a dozen lovers by that time, and before this I had never actually had an orgasm, even though if you’d asked me an hour before, I would have told you different. The experience was overwhelming, stirring emotions and
responses within me that I couldn’t name nor define. Later I was to look back and see that from that transcendent moment on, I would have given her my heart or soul had she asked me for it, I would have died for her smile: all those melodramatic, exuberant sorts of overreactions, they all applied to the way that woman made me feel.
As Kim returned my hug with equal strength, I was able to regain my composure. With a gentle motion, I urged her onto her back beside me, and started kissing at her navel and worked my way slowly up her ribs. A little sly and playful nibble there proved that she, too was ticklish, but I’d save tickle fights for later… my lips continued their peregrination upwards, finally finding the warm, soft swelling of her breast. I tugged her shirt up over her breasts, and she helped me pull it off over her head. The creamy white skin, the pale pink of her nipples stood out against her golden tan. I just sat, propped up on one elbow, and looked for a moment, enjoying the perfect curve of the breast, watching her nipples slowly harden from some combination of the cool air and the pressure of my gaze upon them. I couldn’t wait very long however, before lowering my lips to suck one hardened nipple into my mouth, sucking, nibbling, running my tongue in slow circles around the hard peak, flickering across the nipple. My left hand strayed over to her other breast, and stroked the underside of its soft swelling curve, thumb teasing the hardened pink nipple. She had one arm around my shoulders, stroking my hair with the other, pressing my head to her breast to indicate that I should suck harder. As I complied, she gasped quietly, then let out a low moan as my left hand found it way to her panties, and began investigating the path within. I slid my hand inside the thin cloth, and slipped first one side and then the other down past her hips, exposing her loins to my questing fingers. Her hand had left
my hair, and she was trying without much success to free herself of the minimal confinement of her panties. Regretfully, I left the nipple that I had been suckling, sitting up to help her finish removing them. My god, but she was gorgeous! She was indeed blonde, and the streetlight made the curly hair gleam, droplets of moisture catching little sparks of light, like diamonds glittering in a net of spun gold. A shiver took me then as I looked at her, my arousal mounting high again. She looked like an alabaster and chalcedony statue, an idol waiting to be worshipped. This I did, kneeling between her legs, kissing softly from her instep to her ankle, up her leg, meeting the soft flesh of her inner thigh with my lips, evoking answering shivers from her. I was teasing, delaying the final homage of my lips while reeling in the heady scent of her like a bee in an orchard. Finally my kisses found their way to their destination. I spread her tender folds to expose her wetness, and very slowly lowered my lips to suckle the nectar at the center of her flower. She tasted of salt and peaches, with a faint hint of honey.
She let loose a deep contralto moan, one that seemed to reverberate in my very bones with its heavy load of sensuous arousal as I ran my tongue tip from her opening to the small protrusion of her hooded clit. I sank against her, kissing her open-mouthed, exactly the same sort of kiss that I would have delivered mouth-to-mouth, my tongue twining about and teasing her clitoris with feather- light stokes. I could feel the trembling tension in her long legs which she had wrapped around me. Her hands stroked my hair, gradually stilling, then suddenly seizing me firmly to guide my tongue all the better. She urged me on, the pressure of her hands encouraging me to flicker my tongue more firmly and quickly across her swollen clit. I worked my hands under us, sliding two fingers deep into her open pussy. Again she let loose with that deep and wrenching moan, and I could feel the goose bumps rising down my spine as my own arousal edged up a notch with hers. She was starting to gasp and make little mewling sounds now, and I kept well in rhythm with her cries as I lashed her clit with my tongue. I removed my fingers from her cunt, causing a wordless cry of dismay from her, but immediately set my other hand to the task of stroking her pussy. Meanwhile, the fingers of my right hand were now thoroughly wet, and taking a leaf from this beautiful woman’s own book, I began to tease her asshole with my slippery digits, finally sliding a wet finger deep inside the tight opening. Now she began bucking her hips wildly, driving her cunt against my mouth, hands tight in my hair, thrusting hard to impale herself upon the fingers which pierced her front and back. I had all I could do to keep licking her hot cunt, fucking her ass and pussy with both hands, and remember to occasionally breathe as well. I couldn’t control my own aroused reaction, and I was driving my own hips into the mattress in time with her thrusts as well. Suddenly, she let loose with a banshee cry, stiffening a moment and holding my head tightly against her. I never let up on her engorged clit, licking and flicking my tongue over it as fast as I could. The trembling of her legs was like a tightly strung bowstring, quivering with tension, and I was amazed to feel the rhythmic contractions of her orgasms quite clearly via the finger in her ass. I had never been so completely aware of a woman’s orgasm before now, and the wonder and sense of power this gave me pushed me over the edge into an orgasm of my own.
I continued to lick her clit until she could unknot her fingers from my hair, and pull me up to lay above her, holding her as she shook with reaction. She said nothing yet, just kissed my neck softly where she had buried her face in the angle of my shoulder. I clung to her as well, certain that I had died and gone to heaven. Making love to her had renewed my arousal, and I hadn’t been able to satisfy my needs by humping the mattress earlier. I hoped that she would do something about this in a moment, but the urgency was past, replaced by a glow of contentment mingled with arousal. The next time would be slower and more sensual, but equally passionate and overwhelming in intensity, if our first pass at love was any
indication.

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