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Short skirts, french knickers

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Girls girls girls

It's a sad fact that I've only really slept with men (but then, I just can’t resist a good hard cock) but I've also always held a fascination for women. Not really the thought of sex with them (strap ons are unappealing and silly, I think) but the intimacy of sucking on nipples and feeling her wetness on my fingers. I’ve had the good fortune of meeting plenty of desirable girls, and the even better luck of getting intimate with them – not really what you’d call sex but just enough to get you wet like you never are with a boy. Recently, I even had the good fortune of getting up to a bit of sexy mischief with a most remarkable girl, at Bliss.

But while all is always fun and flirty, the best of these experiences was a while back at uni, when I was living off-campus. Two of the housemates were always out of the house - either at libraries or running off to boyfriends' houses, that sort of thing - so I spent most of my time mooching around the house with the remaining girl, Mica, a Japanese girl with childlike eyes and a face like silk. She was pensive, quite dark in her own way - she liked sitting in the dark, in a room lit only with candles, shrouded by a musky fug of jasmine incense. She would sit on the floor and talk philosophy as she smoked cigarettes through a full permanent pout, her lip curling as she blew out the side of her lip.

It was always late when I’d step into her room and talk. Late nights, early mornings, when we sat close together in the smoky heat of her room and touched each other’s fingers, accidentally-on-purpose but feigning indifference.

One night, her fingers lingered longer than usual on mine. I let it be as usual but it soon crept to above my knee, and as it did, I felt the approach of her breath against my cheek. She kissed my earlobe, nibbled, and her hand reached under my nightie to an eager breast. We stayed loosely dressed and spent the rest of the night just kissing slow and deliberate, touching each other under nighties and pyjamas with our fingertips. The shoulder blades, the creases in the arms, thighs, breasts.

It was enough that we didn’t need to undress, or even touch each other between the thighs. The bliss was all in feeling of her tongue on my tongue and the parting of her mouth to meet my lips. And she knew just how to touch my breasts, and brush against my nipples in a way no man ever does. Nothing orgasmic – only sensual and slow and drawn-out, firm and wildly teasing.

Instinctively, we knew when it was enough. She leant back to smoke and blow out rings in the dark, watching through the side of an glazed eye and a sleepy smile as I worked my pussy with my own fingers. I remember climaxing and pressing my face into the side of her arm, and her reaching over to stroke the side of my head, still smoking. Coming that night was completely silent and dark, as the candles had long since blown out, but it was shuddering and strong in its stillness. We stayed sitting for hours and eventually, as the sun dawned, I fell asleep on her lap.

1 Comments:

  • its funny how straight guys would never do what u did with another guy for pleasure. but girls can get away with it & still be straight.

    what draws me to your writing is the detail. i often take my time studying every inch of skin, caress every curve, smell every part of the body as if trying to capture the essence of the woman in my mind. some like it & appreciate it and i think you're one of them

    - duress -

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 12:34 PM  

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