Lesbian tales – Kim

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 222 (a 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 222
Club: 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 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
king-size. 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, and had actually worked as
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 presence 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.
This was unbelievable, and I was enjoying it with every bit of my being.
I pulled her down to me, meeting her lips with mine, and kissing her was
like drinking honey wine; sweet, intoxicating. In my previous affairs
with a woman, I was usually the one who took the lead in sex, and my old
girlfriends 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 together, 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 he 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, soulstraining pleasure? I SCREAMD
with the release, barely hearing the noise over the pounding of my pulse
in my ears, and my vision started to tunnel down, greyness 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 had an orgasm like that, even though if
you’d asked me an hour before, I would have told you I had explored all
the possibilities of sensuality my body was capable of. 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.