Laura and I had known each other since we were 14 years old and now we were at college having known each other go through different relationships, shared confidences, laughed about each other’s boyfriends or one-night stands, girl talk, you know. Nothing cruel, just letting off steam, bonding, what friends do with and for each other with someone who understands and gets you. Without men we’d have no one to mock, albeit light-heartedly, and I’m sure they do the same about us. Although, without men a whole side of my sexual nature wouldn’t be fulfilled.
During our second year at sixth form college, I was 17 and Laura was 18, I don’t know how it happened or where it came from but we grew ever closer, more than just friends, more than just platonic, more touchy-feely, more conscious and aware of how she looked at me, and how I saw her.
Something was growing, changing.
One night after seeing a movie with three other friends followed by a pizza we parted leaving Laura and me to head back to my flat. My first flat was and is still my independence, proving to others I suppose but mostly to myself I could look after myself. I’ve always been strong-headed.
The first thing we did on getting in was raid the fridge, pudding time, ice cream. Double chocolate with chocolate drops included, we even fed each other from our own spoons. Perhaps it was a sugar high but it ended up in me flicking a bit at her, then her at me, then back and forth until our senses told us what a waste of perfectly good ice cream. It was really after one blob landed on my cleavage and I blurted for her to lick it off, not thinking she would. She poked out her tongue, laughed, and then leaned over to my surprise her head was right there licking ice cream of my boobs.
I was aghast but soon found the sensation of her tongue lapping it from my skin there arousing. Her hand went to my breast and lifted it a little continuing to lick even though I was sure all the ice cream was gone. She began caressing while she licked my bare skin casing me to inhale deeply with each breath.
I felt surprisingly disappointed when she pulled away but I needn’t have been as immediately she spooned up another blob and placed it on my cleavage again and promptly began licking, this time with much more enthusiasm. I didn’t stop her. In fact I was more than pleased. As she did so I felt her unbuttoning my blouse and her licking becoming ever-more enthusiastic, her hand once more kneading my breasts. She kissed my skin as she exposed and discovered more. All kinds of signals trembled through my body, my nipples becoming excited during all this.
We were both cross-legged all the while but now I was leant back onto cushions with her momentum and enthusiasm against me. Laura seemed utterly immersed in what she was doing and me, I was mesmerised by this sudden unexpected turn of events. Before this we’d never done anything quite this intimate and all kinds of emotions were stirring in me, suddenly all the signs had been there for ages, we just neither of us had noticed, or at least acted.
One button at a time my blouse was opened and pulled from the waist band of my jeans. I was still leaned back on cushions, comfortable but most definitely wired. It’s always so different when someone else undressed you as opposed to when you do it for yourself. Something wrong yet right, especially when permission hasn’t been given or sought and it just begins to happen. She pulled it open and leaned in once more to kiss my white lace bra, each breast, a hand moving around my curves invitingly. I offered no resistance.
I’d been with girls before in a similar way but not like this, usually more playfully, immediate, quick, and not so intensely as this had become.
I could feel the weight and the heat of her. I was breathing harder, noticeably so. Her caressing, her kissing, her licking, and now her nibbling became more committed. Her touch was clearly very expert, knowing exactly where to touch, how to touch, where to go, as though somehow she already knew my body as deeply as she knew her own. Her breath was now merely inches away when she touched my lips with hers and we kissed. Oh, we kissed! Not platonically this time but much more potent, passionate. I was swallowed and I gave in to it freely.
The deepening kiss, her fingers slipped into my bra and felt the me beneath, my chest rising and falling, my nipples tender, waiting, wanting, like the rest of me, wanting . We’d had seen each other naked before but this was different, both realising the sexual taking point, control, as our desires came to fruition.
Around my back she unhooked me and loosened me from their confines as her lips temporarily abandoned mine to find my nipple, to engulf it entirely, aureole and all, tasting, sucking, nipping, rolling between her teeth. I stared up at the ceiling as she moved like water against my body now, her mouth attached like a barnacle, but clearly not as scratchy as a barnacle I imagine would be. To feel her so close like this, taking me to places I had wondered about but hadn’t really seen nor felt quite as such.
My breath, her scent, her loose, long black hair brushing over my pale skin providing: such a contrast. My position gave her complete access to me, my now bare breasts, still cross-legged one of her hands leaned on my thighs and had started squeezing, I could feel her through the denim, her lips, so much fuller than mine, of which I was always envious. Though now I was receiving the full benefit of them.
I held her arms, running my hands up and down, around her back, holding her close, feeling her ribs expanding and contracting sensually, her hips moving as hips do when excited. My nipples were covered in her saliva as she kept greedily enjoying over and over. I hoped she would never stop, it was so overwhelming. I was at the mercy of my own desires as my hands wrapped around her buttocks. I clearly had so much to learn and she certainly had so much to give and she was giving it to me, so vertiginous were my feelings.
She pulled me to her and pulled the sleeves down my arms and off came my blouse, followed by my bra leaving me topless and decidedly sexually-charged up. Her trails of lick all over my cleavage and boobs. Did all this really being with something as innocent as ice cream?
I was her captive.
She grinned, the kind of grin I immediately regarded as suggestive, in the kind of way which may be seen as, perhaps, kinky? I was teetering on a brink of something, my thighs ached with wants and needs. Laura removed her shirt but net yet the black-laced bra and continued her drawn-out enjoyment of my upper body, her nails dug into my waist as she once again we kissed, our breasts pressed seductively against one another. Her mouth danced, I gasped for breath not wanting to lose her lips. She bit hard my nipple forcing me to arched and inhale through gritted teeth. It should’ve hurt but didn’t, instead simply enthused me more. It was almost excruciating, but only in an excruciatingly exhilarating way. She knew what she was doing, bringing me to that almost point of pain.
She pushed one then two fingers into my mouth and made me suck them, which I did, as she hooked and twisted them. I did, avariciously, she seemed pleased. I sucked her fingers in, being obedient and feeling the need for approval. She whispered, good girl, I sucked them in again and again, then a third finger.
My hips squirmed against hers, hers against mine, the sound of denim on denim, our breathing. She pulled me once again against her cleavage and I felt her warmth and instinctively kissed her there. Our bodies were rivers meeting at a confluence, savagely so, a turbulent rush from the steepest of contours flowing across one another as sinuous, twisting, knotting streams. I was now caressing her breast and she finally discarded her bra. She commanded me to taste her nipple, I did, unquestioning. She pushed it into my mouth holding my head there. I felt almost suffocated but didn’t care. Her skin so sweet, slightly salty, warmth, pulsing. I found that I couldn’t get enough, how delightful she was to feel in such a way as this, with all out sense to immeasurably heightened.
She placed her other nipple against my mouth and told me again to taste, to bite. I did both. She hissed when I did and her body convulsed and her nails dug into my back scratching my skin enough to leave mark. I didn’t care.
Trails of my kisses, tracks of saliva, no choreography just spontaneity, flow-motion, rhythmic immersions, she was challenging me, my wants, my needs, needs which she knew much better than me, this moment had just begun, the journey was set to run perhaps all night long as the depths became deeper and the tastes became sweeter, I knew I was hers to compel. . . . . . . . . . .
(to be continued in “immersion (act two)” …………)