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One Charming Night

Category: Lesbian Sex
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We’d been sparring partners at the gym for awhile, which is why, when my bellydance class had a performance, I invited her to come with me. It was a whole big gala hafla thing, sit down dinner and all, and I just really wanted to know someone there besides my dance classmates. And Phoebe was the only person outside that context that I had really connected with since moving to San Francisco last year.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. I got through my solo piece without freaking out or anything, and when I rejoined her at the table, she told me she thought I did really well. She also mentioned, which I hadn’t known, that she had a bit of experience with the dance in the past, but from the way she said it, I guess it was pretty brief, had something to do with her ex-husband and brought up painful memories. I’m glad I didn’t know that before, or I might not have invited her, for fear of triggering those memories. She commented that it was really different seeing me in such feminine costuming, since usually we’re sparring in, well, kickbox-appropriate clothing.

The evening took a sharp left turn right about at the toast. That could be hindsight on my part. But when we clinked our glasses after my teacher toasted all us students, her hand brushed against mine, and I swear I felt a spark jump between us. Of course, at the same time, she dropped her glass, so perhaps it wasn’t so much a spark as an overly enthusiastic clink. She was really embarrassed, and I mean really embarrassed. I’ve never seen anyone wince that severely over some spilt wine! She ran to the bathroom to try and keep the stain from setting, which I’m thinking didn’t go too well either, as it looked like the lights were flickering in there or something.

Finally, she came back out and stayed for the rest of the evening, but a lot quieter than she had been. That was kind of a downer, because I had really felt like we were starting to bond. Apparently she felt the same way, because she suggested we take a walk after I had gotten changed back into street clothes, and chat some more.

And so, we wandered and chatted about everything in general and nothing in particular. I don’t even remember what-all we found to talk about. Eventually, we wound up by the bay, looking up at the sky. It was an unusually clear night, and we talked for awhile about the stars, of all things, trying to remember which constellations are which. There was a railing where we were standing, and as we leaned against it, our arms brushed against each other.

This time, there was no clink, and definitely a spark of some kind. I turned to look at her, only to find her already looking at me. We stayed there for an eternal moment, each locked in the other’s gaze, until she reached for my chin, drew our faces closer to one another, and kissed me.

That was, without a doubt, the most perfect kiss I have ever experienced. It was light, almost tentative, but perfect. She backed away a little, still looking into my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like that before. With another woman, I mean.”

“Neither have I,” I replied, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt, “but I’m not sorry.”

We stood there in silence for another moment. Then, I’m not even sure which one of us moved first, but suddenly we were in each other’s arms, kissing each other first lightly, then more firmly. A thrill rushed through me as her tongue slipped into my mouth and danced with mine.

Eventually, we separated, and resumed our walk, though now holding hands and not talking. Not terribly much later, we came to her house. It was pretty impressive, but she downplayed it, saying it had been in the family for awhile, and she shared it with her two sisters, two nephews, and sometimes her semi-estranged brother-in-law.

We went in. She found a bottle of wine, and we sat by the fireplace sipping it and just enjoying being in each other’s company. I think we were both thinking about how wonderful we had felt kissing, and trying to weigh that against the cans of worms we might be opening into our lives. At least, that is what I was thinking, though I have to say, the worms weren’t looking terribly impressive.

The grandfather clock startled us when it chimed three. At least neither of us had to work tomorrow, but still, the sound broke our silence and spurred us to talk a bit.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe I should go home, and we can both take some time to think this through?”

“That does sound … reasonable,” she agreed. But neither of us made a move.

“Of course,” I said, breaking the silence that had fallen again, “I don’t actually want to go home. And I don’t feel much like thinking.”

“I don’t really want you to go either,” she said. “Besides, maybe we can figure it out better together.” She leaned in and kissed me again.

I don’t know how long we stayed there necking. Long enough for one of the logs in the fireplace to collapse in a pile of sparks with a thump and break our clinch. We looked into the fire. We looked into each other’s eyes. She took my hand, set down my wine glass, and led me to the stairs.

I echoed her earlier question. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Let’s find out.”

Once we were in her room, time seemed to take on a life of its own, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down. It seemed to slide by luxuriously slowly as we kissed, sitting on the edge of her bed, and then jumped ahead to a point where I found myself cupping her breasts in my hands and not really knowing when or how I had put them there. All I knew was they felt right. I lifted them slightly, experiencing their weight, and lightly brushed my thumbs over her nipples, which I could feel hardening through her silk blouse and bra.

Time resumed its languid pace as we removed each other’s shirts. She had a little trouble with my bra, and laughed about how weird it felt to be undoing a bra but not reaching behind herself. When she finally figured out the clasp and slid it off, I discovered what she meant, as I fumbled with hers. Once I could see her creamy breasts, I wasn’t satisfied merely to touch them. That seemed a wholly inadequate way to appreciate them. And so I took one of her nipples into my mouth and sucked at it gently. She responded by burying her fingers in my hair and pulling me in more tightly. I sucked harder, and nibbled lightly on her left breast, as I cupped and caressed the right. She sighed softly, and that sound, more than the rich, soft, fullness of her breasts in my mouth and hands, sent a thrill through my body that settled between my legs with a warm, wet ache.

I could only think of what I was doing as worshiping her through her body, as I explored her breasts with tongue, teeth, lips, and hands, and worked my way back up her neck to her mouth. She was my Goddess, and I would make this a fit offering for Her on this altar of Her bed. She, however, insisted on having her turn, kissing her way down to my breasts, continuing down to my belly, and then back to suck and nibble first one nipple, and then the other. Lost in the pleasure, I was aware of nothing but her caresses and my hands now buried in her hair, until suddenly, I heard and felt her undoing my zipper with one hand that was somehow no longer on my breast. My breath caught, as another thrill ran through me, turning that warm ache into a fiery need as she eased my pants and then panties down off my hips, over my knees and feet, brought my ass to the edge of the bed, knelt before me, and opened my legs.

This couldn’t be right. I should be the one worshiping her. But I didn’t have the strength to protest as she traced the folds of my lips, first with finger, then tongue. All I could do was stroke her hair and sigh with each move she made. Gently, almost too gently, teasingly, she toyed with the hood of my clitoris, gently licking and sucking. Abruptly, she grabbed my ass tightly, and plunged her tongue inside me. I think I cried out. I know I grabbed hold of her head and held her in tightly as she began to flick her tongue in and out of me, sometimes pausing to caress my clit, sometimes not.

My body felt like she was winding a spring deep inside me, tighter and tighter. She fastened her lips over my clit and licked it first slowly, then faster. Tighter and tighter that spring wound. Her fingernails dug into the cheeks of my ass as she continued to suck, lick, and tighten that spring. In a wave of pleasure the likes of which I had never known, that spring released, taking every last bit of tension out of me with it.

How, now, was I to worship my Goddess? I luxuriated for a moment in the ecstasy of her lovemaking. Then, determined, I took hold of her shoulders, and stood her up. I removed the blasphemous skirt and undergarments that hid her glory, steered her to the edge of the bed, and took up my proper place as supplicant and adorer, parting her legs and opening the gateway to her inner sanctuary.

I thought at first to imitate her actions, as though they had been a lesson. However, I found her musky scent so intoxicating that any hope of remembering what she had done, much less how she had done it, was utterly lost. I set myself instead to exploring first her strong and smooth legs. For almost a year, I had known these legs as weapons. Now I explored their softness rather than their strength, tracing intricate patterns of lace and flowers along them with my tongue. As I moved towards her core, I first nuzzled then kissed the warm, soft tuft of hair that topped it. I inhaled deeply her rich scent, exhaled moist warmth over her, and sensed her response as she opened to me like a flower.

With my fingers, I separated the outer petals, the better to cover them with small kisses, then moved to the inner petals, and the nub of her clit. I kissed it lightly at first, then used my lips to ease back the hood as I licked it gently, reverently. I imagined what it would be like to slide my tongue all the way around it, completely encircling it, and then tried. She gasped, and I felt the flow of her juices over my chin.

Now I remembered one thing she had done.I grabbed her ass and drove my tongue into her, drinking her sweet musky wine. She moaned softly, and I could feel the spring begin to tighten in her. Pulling with my hands, I pressed as deeply into her as I could, wishing I could merge with her completely. For a delicious eternity, I released her only the slightest bit before plunging in, it seemed, just a bit further, then released her the tiniest bit again. Then, suddenly, I found myself instead suckling her clit and stroking it with my tongue as her nails dug into my scalp. She moaned louder, and a gush of sweet liquid flowed over my chin, neck, and chest, as I felt her convulse around me.

We both found the energy, surprisingly, to climb under the covers to rest in each other’s arms and kiss and cuddle. Sometimes we would just gaze in sleepy wonder into each other’s eyes. Then we would kiss some more, each tasting our own juices on the other’s tongue, until they mixed completely and we could no longer tell them apart. I could not comprehend, in those moments, that there had ever been a time we had not been just like this.

We continued to kiss and pet, thinking to fall asleep tangled together this way. But then her kisses became firmer, and her grip on my breasts became stronger. I felt that warm, wet ache return between my legs, and spared a thought to wonder how that could be so soon. Our kisses grew deeper, harder, almost demanding, and that ache once again became fire.

This time, we threw back the covers and arranged ourselves so that we could both pleasure each other at the same time. From this new angle, I explored her sweet core with my fingers, dipping them into her well, tracing her folds, and tickling her clit, before settling to the earnest business of sucking at it, licking it, and even venturing to gently nibble at it. This time, it seemed that as the tension built in us both, we literally floated above the bed in a cloud of light. This time, it seemed to take no time at all for the pleasure to swell within us. This time, instead of simply releasing, those springs of tension within us exploded into a million microscopic bits and settled back over us lightly like snow as we came down off our mutual high to lie in each other’s arms, and this time, fall into blissful slumber.

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