We had been sixteen and so incredibly beautiful. Despite our teenage insecurities of being too fat, the photograph proved we had both been stunners ten years ago. Germaine; or Gemmy as I preferred to call her; and I must have been the envy of the world in our post-pubescent years.
And now, aged 26, I’m sitting in my kitchen and reminiscing about that somewhat confusing but extremely pleasing summer of 1994, when Gemmy and I had been introduced to one another by our parents.
My father Alan, a bank manager, had struck up a friendship with a fellow colleague – Jack. Before long, Jack and his wife Tanya were started popping round to our mansion for Sunday Lunch, then Christmas breakfast and Easter Dinner. It was specifically during the Easter Dinner that I got to know Gemmy. Being the only minor in the company of four adults – my parents, Tanya and Jack, I often felt bored. When I complained to my mother that I didn’t want to sit through the Easter dinner because I was surrounded by a bunch of old fogies, although slightly offended, my mother suggested Jack and Tanya should bring over Gemmy to keep me company.
When Gemmy walked through the door, after her parents, my stomach did a triple-back flip. I had never thought of any female as merely pretty, let alone sexy, but Gemmy was absolutely gorgeous. She has long, flowing curls tinted blonde, and two brown eyes that could speak a million words in place of her pink pouty lips. Much leg and cleavage were exposed through her tiny blue dress. I wondered whether she felt cold, it was April after all.
Gemmy and I had a lot in common. We both loved Mariah Carey, Janet Jackson and the Counting Crows. We both though that Babyface was great and that Salt-n-Pepa were cool in a funny kind of way.
After that Easter Dinner, I got to see Gemmy every Sunday from 1 pm to 7pm. I lived solely and exclusively for Sundays. I obviously tried to suppress the feelings bubbling within, brushing them off as admiration for her perfectly flat stomach, expertly tamed curls and immaculate make-up. During the week I started practicing with my own look. After much self-persuasion, I chopped off my three foot long braid and went for a straight-edge bob with a stern fringe. My new short do combined with my straight, black, glossy hair certainly boosted my self esteem. I gently started to shed weight and opt for darker, sultrier clothing which would allow one to take a peek her and a peek there: plunging V-necks, low-cut tops, two buttoned shirts, low-rise jeans, hipster pants, skirts with slits – you name it.
I never thought my weight loss would in turn come in handy. In June, my mother announced that we would be going on vacation to nearest location promoting sun, sand and sea.
“With Alan, Tanya and Gemmy,” she added.
I was thrilled.
It was on the first night of that same vacation that Gemmy and I had shared our first kiss. She had told me she’d never kissed anyone before and was desperate to kiss someone before she got a boyfriend and scared him off for not knowing quite what to do.
I had tried to explain that everyone kissed differently and that there was no technique as such, but Gemmy was persistent and begged me to help her out.
“You’re my best friend!” she’d whined.
Kissing her blew my mind. I’d kissed guys before, but generally felt very unusual with doing so. But kissing Gemmy made my breasts throb, my pussy moisten. We ‘practiced’ every night for five nights, in her room. Then, on the sixth night, I felt my hand scoot up her waist and cup her breast. I frantically but unsuccessfully tried to control my fumbling fingers. I expected her to be upset, but she moaned gently instead. Then – without warning, she copied me, taking her own soft fingers to my cotton clad tits. Since we were in our bed clothes, nothing more than strappy tops and shorter-than-short shorts, it wasn’t hard for us to raise each other’s nipples into little mounds beneath material. My lips left hers, exploring the soft flesh on her neck, the peaks of her chest, before finding the protruding bud. I was half-way through lifting her top over her head when Jack swung the door handle open and caught us red-handed.
Panic ensued. My parents were completely devastated. In fear that Gemmy and I were going to turn out being full-fledged lesbians, Tanya and Jack left the resort that very same day – taking Gemmy with them. That was the last time I saw Gemmy in flesh and blood. The friendship between my parents and Gemmy’s parents broke down. I believed I would never see her again for the rest of my living days.
And that’s why I married Frank, aged 23. Straight after graduating in Philosophy, Frank and I took our vows and set up a home. I felt I owed it to my parents to be respectable after that unsettling incident which occurred in summer 1994.
But then, three weeks ago, the unexpected happened. As I sifted through the spam in my e-mail inbox, I came across an e-mail entitled “Germaine/ Gemmy here. Remember me?”
My heart went into over-drive. My hands grew clammy, my mouth ran dry, my head started spinning and my stomach lurched. It felt very much like the first time I saw her, sensations multiplied by ten this time round. I took to reading the digital letter. She had found me through an online profile and though she’d drop me a line. Apparently she had also gotten married three years ago, to a bloke called Kevin. Like me, she hadn’t yet found the motivation to think about babies.
We exchanged a few more e-mails after her first, then took to calling one another. Then, three days ago she told me: “Tori, we should really meet up again and catch up on all the things we’ve missed out on.” I could think of quite few, but I didn’t want to read too deep into her invitation.
“How about this weekend? You and Kevin can stay with us. I’m sure the men get on well, plus we have loads of space where you guys can crash. With all the catching up we need to do, even three days don’t sound enough!” I chuckled, terrified she’d refuse.
When I asked Frank if I could have an old friend of mine over for the weekend, he was overjoyed. When I told him about Kevin, he was furthermore pleased, stating that it would be great if he could make new friends. You see, Frank works very hard and doesn’t get much of a chance to socialize. To him, having a couple over during the very same weekend he was on leave was heaven.
And that brings us to now. I’m sitting in the kitchen, looking at my only photo of Gemmy and waiting for her to set foot in my house.
The door bell goes. I shove the photo into the first drawer I come across and let Gemmy and Kevin in. I don’t take much notice of the guy; I’m too lost in Gemmy’s beauty. She looks exactly the same way she did ten years ago, with longer legs, longer hair, larger breasts and an even more pronounced pout. She drops her luggage on our doorstep and she holds her arms out to me. I almost dive into them. I can’t think, or talk. All I can do is breathe in the beautiful scent nestling on her neck. When I recover from being tongue-tied, we settle down for lunch and chat amicably. We drink wine as a foursome until the small hours, then head to bed.
The next day, Kevin and Frank announce that later that evening they want to go on a fishing trip – given that they both have a passion for the hobby. Gemmy and I exchange glances and we both know that they’re going alone. We tell them to have a good time.
“What will you girls be doing?” asks Kevin.
I feel a blush rise to my face at the mere thought of what could happen, while Gemmy springs into reply: “Probably watch a movie, have a glass of wine. Don’t worry you silly sausage, we won’t be hitting a club or anything,” she adds with a cute giggle.
The men are gone by 8:00pm, and tell us not to expect them any sooner than 12 hours later.
For the first time we’re alone. I bring out a bottle of wine I reserved especially for this eventuality and switch on the satellite TV. We sit on the large black suede sofa and gulp down the fine wine as we nibble through various nut brands and munchies. We sit in silence, pretending to watch the television and furiously sipping at our drinks. It’s only when I pop open the second bottle of wine that I finally find the Dutch courage to pop Gemmy a question.
“How did kissing your first boyfriend go then?”
She laughs; brushing invisible crumbs off the neckline of her skimpy negligee and utters “Pretty well thanks to you.”
Her voice is musky and thick, and I’m pretty sure that her piercing gaze is suggesting something.
Suddenly she starts talking about University and a string of lovers she’s had, and before long we’re indulging in completely different conversation about our respective sex lives. It was a series of loud moans that diverted my attention from Gemmy’s pink lips and to the television screen.
Legs spread, a pretty blonde sat on top of a brunette’s face, her hips gliding forwards and backwards, as the brunette stretched her tongue out to lap at the large bosomed girl’s pussy.
Gemmy and I burst into fits of laughter, realizing that the late night ‘shows’ have started.
“She sure seems to be enjoying herself. Damn! Kevin hardly ever gives me oral. The luckiest I got was on my wedding night, he made it last three minutes before complaining it was hot and wet down there. I mean seriously, what the fuck does he expect?”
My heart goes out to her. “I can’t say I know what you mean, but Frank is a one minute man. He puts it in, prods around for 30 seconds, thrusts for another 30 and blasts. It’s really demoralizing. At least he does give me a little oral say once a month. Nothing special, he excites himself so much he comes before I’m even warmed up. He’s got premature ejaculation. We’re trying to sort it out, but after five years since our first time, we haven’t made much progress.”
“Oh my god! Alba! Alba! I’m coming…Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” This time round its the brunette who’s receiving the Blonde’s tongue, her legs spread with the blonde between them.
I don’t know if its the wine, the TV lesbians or Gemmy’s cleavage and long legs, but I felt a gentle stream of liquid seeping past the folds of my pussy, the liquid gently being absorbed by the couch material. How I wish I’d worn underpants under the obscenely small night-dress now.
Gemmy continues to stare at the television screen and I notice her eyes filling with tears. My arm slips around her shoulders. Her head sinks into my chest and she weeps heavily. In between sobs I can hear her say “It’s so unfair Tori. I can’t take another moment of being with Kevin. He sucks in bed. He just makes me feel like I’m wasting the best years of my life. I haven’t had an orgasm in plain years because I refuse to masturbate when I can get the satisfaction from my husband. But no! I should have known it was fishy when he said he wanted to stay virgin until we got married. I mean even when we dated, he hardly ever touched me. I’ve given up on attempts to seduce him. I’ll just spend the rest of my life cooped up with him I suppose, my pussy exploding and all…”
I feel tears brim in my own eyes. Although Frank like sex, he’s never watched me bloom, mainly because he’s blasting before I’m even moist.
Heady with wine, sadness engulfing me, I press my lips against her forehead, then take her face into my hands and start to shower her beautiful, perfect features with fervent kisses. Her lips find mine and we topple over onto the sofa, me on top of her.
I slip my tongue past her lips, the velvety sensation of it brushing and rubbing against mine making me moan hoarsely. Her delicate hands slip down the slopes of my back and the curves of my ass, lifting the hem of my dress over my head. I am now completely naked in front of her. I spread my legs, crouching over her hips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Victoria…” she whispers before encapsulating one of my nipples between her fleshy lips. Watching her suck on my engorged nipple is almost as pleasurable as the suckling she subjugates it to. My hands get tangled in her beautiful blonde locks as stroke after stroke, my juices cascade onto her flimsy negligee. She must have noticed the urgency building between my legs because her fingers slip between my legs, her thumb and index finger taking my tender clit into their custody and rocking it in and out of its hood.
My panting grows louder, my face redder and I’m approaching an orgasm fast when her fingers part from my pussy. I groan loudly in complaint, but she lifts me to my knees by the hips. When she raises me to what seems to her a sufficient height, she slides across the sofa until her head is positioned between my legs. She lowers my mound to her face and starts lapping at my slit like a furious and starved kitten would at milk. As I bend slightly I watch my juices streaming across her mouth and this turns me on as badly as her tongue darting at my clit does. Her palms grab my fleshy ass and her mouth devours my labia and clit. She starts sucking my pussy. With the little energy and mobility reserved for the tongue, she stiltedly rubs my clit. I can no longer control myself.
“Gemmy! Gemmy! Baby suck! Oh God… I’m coming, so hard… so hard. Oh! Oh Oh Oh Gem…Germaine!” I scream loudly as I grind my pussy into her face, my hips thrusting, my breasts bouncing wildly, tears streaming down my face with the utter sensations of pleasure which are taking over my body, radiating from my clit and filling every single pore with blissful satisfaction. I smother her face with my slick pussy for the final few seconds as my orgasm ebbs away, my hips rocking uncontrollably, even if slowly, across her perfect lips. Then my body lunges forward and I’m almost too tired to move. I feel her crawl from beneath my weight, rising to face me. Her face is wet. Her usual scent has been overpowered by the strong odor of my girlie cum.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs softly.
“How can I ever repay for that?” I ask, gentle pants still escaping me.
“Make love to me Tori – real girl-on-girl-love-making, the type only another girl could give me.”
“Like pussy grinding?” I ask uncertainly. I’ve never done anything of this sort with any female before.
“Yes, pussy to pussy; clit to clit. You softness rubbing into mine… Oh God…” she says as she loses herself in a sigh. I watch her violently tug at her dress and chuck it onto the floor, followed by her bra and g-string. As she’s still standing in front of me, I take to sitting and I’m about to dip my tongue between the crevices of her bald pussy when she pulls away.
“No, make love to me now. I’m so hot Victoria, so hot Tori. If you dare lick me, I’ll just come. The lesbians, the wine, the fact that I’ve gone without for so long and above all watching you get off like that, your pussy gushing all over my face, it’s just made me too hot to bear anything else but your pussy on top of mine, now!” she babbles urgently.
Sensing her close-to-anxious state, I decide to take action. Vaguely remembering a scene from the lesbian flick on television I sit her down on the couch, the lower part of her ass just off the cushion. I pull her legs together, leaving them spread at a tiny angle. My fingers push apart her swollen labia. Her clit, peeping from behind her lips, glistens. I sit on top of her, but remain upright until my pussy was just above her own. Then I lower my mound to hers, feeling my own pussy gush again at the thought of our sexes brushing against each other, our juices mingling.
She takes my ass cheeks into the palms of her hands yet again and vigorously sways my hips forwards and backwards. Our pussies mesh into one another, puffy red lips sliding further and further apart, and pink throbbing clitorises colliding.
“Tori!” she gasps loudly, “I can feel your juices trickle down my pussy. God Tori, your clit is hammering against mine… oh fuck!”
I start to rock against her harder, her words fuelling my passion, making the world turn a little hazier. I feel her hips thrust beneath me. Our clits stiffen further, our hoods becoming an indispensable accessory now that our buds are engorge themselves completely and extend to their greatest possible length.
Her grip on my behind tightens as she starts whimpering “Rub Tori, more… Baby don’t stop! Grind! Grind! Grind more… I’m so close baby! Fuck my clit! And yeah rub it. Uh-Huh…Rub it…” Her voice sounds like that of a lusty virgin and forces me to feverishly engulf her pussy with my own. I chafe against her for a few more seconds until she grabs me by the hips and brings me to a standstill. Our perfectly synchronized throbbing clits pump against each other for one final time, before she screams “Tori! Tori Ah, Ah Ah! Tori I’m coming!” and her juices blast against my labia as they gush out of her. As she reaches her highest peak yet, she shrieks my name time and time again, her clit not missing a beat to mine. And as she’s almost faded out of orgasmic bliss, I feel my own self soar, another orgasm filling my veins with pure white-hot pleasure. My clit pulsates against hers one final time, before I collapse onto her and whisper the words I’ve been longing to say for ten whole years: “I love you, Germaine…”