“Did you do what I think you just did?”
There was a husky breathiness, and an undertone of excitement in June’s voice as we both came down from our orgasms.
“Cum? Yes,” I giggled as I looked up, smiling, “I did.”
“You look like the cat who got the cream,” June smiled back.
“I got your pussy cream, which makes me a happy kitten,” I giggled, raising myself to lie on her warm body which was still shivering in the aftermath of her orgasm.
“You DID just want to get into my knickers then?”
“What knickers?” I laughed, rubbing my small breasts against her larger ones, and watching her shiver as our nipples rubbed together. As I reached her lips, I kissed her.
“See, you taste so good!”
Our lips met. There it was again – that connection.
June’s mouth opened to allow my tongue to enter and play with her own. As our tongues began their dance of love, she moaned. The sensations sparking through to my core were so intense that I just wanted to kiss her like this forever.
Then I felt her move.
Like just about everyone over the age of sixteen, June was taller and heavier than I was, and so it was almost effortlessly that she reversed our positions, using her elbows to lean on while she parted my thighs with one of her legs.
“Did you cum, Fabienne, really?”
Our eyes locked as I nodded.
“Were you touching yourself?”
“No,” I said, feeling too tired to try to explain what had happened.
“Yummy, that is quite the compliment darling.”
It was, and I hoped to be able to explain to June about my physical differences, but what mattered was the link. It had been that which had drawn me to her, and which had pushed me over the edge.
“You taste delicious,” I told her, as our eyes locked.
“As long as you like it darling,” June whispered.
I snuggled into her warm, welcoming breasts. I could hear her heart beating. It felt so good to be there with her.
“Should clean up,” June murmured.
“Should,” I said back.
I drifted off to a deep and satisfying sleep in her arms.
I usually woke early, and it was the late spring sunlight streaming through the blinds which did the trick. I could hear something comforting and snuggled closer. It was that same heartbeat to which I had fallen asleep.
As consciousness came, I remembered: where I was; how I had got here; how it had felt. I knew it was good.
Part of me wanted to tell myself off for jumping on her as I had, but then, I giggled to myself, she’d done as much of the jumping as I had. Irresistible forces had overcome whatever lingering doubts we might have had. It wasn’t as though either of us could have resisted.
I breathed her scent in.
There was something about that sweaty, sleepy, morning-after passionate sex scent which made me tingle where I had tingled last night. How was she having this effect on me? One part of me wanted to wake her and make love with her; another part just wanted to lie in her arms, pressed into those warm cuddlesome breasts. I went with that part of me. June was tired and deserved her sleep. We’d have to get on soon anyway, the restaurant would not clean itself, and though we had not done a bad job, we’d been rather distracted at the end.
I dozed in her arms, my face in her breasts. I could, I thought, have stayed there forever.
Eventually June stirred and looked down at me.
“Hey you, how are you?”
“In heaven,” I replied, “do not disturb!”
She giggled and gave me a huge hug, pulling me on top of her. I kissed her nose.
“Pardon my breath,” I said.
“Pussy breath is fine,” June giggled, “it’s too long since I smelled that.”
I stored that away. There was so much I did not know about her – just about every incidental detail. But there was one big thing I did know: this felt good and right.
“I need to pee, darling,” June said.
“Don’t let me stop you,” I giggled.
Somehow, these small intimacies mattered.
I watched as she walked to the ensuite.
It felt good that she was able to sit there and pee and not mind me being there. It seemed a sign of trust.
I loved the sight of her naked body as she came back into the room, her breasts juggling sexily.
“Should I have closed the door?”
“No, it’s not as though I mind.”
There was a wicked questioning tone to her voice and smile, to which I could not help responding.
“Would you think less of me if I offered to make sure you were all clean down there?”
“I’d think you were a kaçak iddaa dirty girl – but then as I like dirty girls,” she teased, “no!”
I was, literally, a sucker for early morning pussy. I liked a woman’s natural taste, and the idea of tasting her full range of tastes appealed. She was right, I was a dirty girl.
June lay back, her breasts falling to the side, nipples hard already. I gazed at her and then, smiling broadly, dived in.
I licked along the line of her wet, salty lips, savouring her taste. Using my fingers to peel her lips back a little, I let my tongue take small, intense licks, pushing into her tangier wetness, tasting her there, before sliding upwards, licking all the way until I reached her clit.
She had the prettiest clit I had ever seen, I decided, and began to flick at it with the tip of my tongue.
“Oh, oh fuckkk!” June moaned, and the faster I licked, the more intense her moans became.
I loved feeling her grow more excited, her body opening to my ministrations. My lips fastened onto her unhooded clit and pulled her out so I could press her between my lips as I sucked. She tasted divine, so I slowly pulse-sucked, pressing my face against her wetness as my hands gripped her sexy bum.
Gripping her, my nails digging in, I pulled her to me, sliding her legs across my shoulders so I could lick down to her perineum. I teased her there, curling two fingers into her pussy which gripped them eagerly.
I was never going to resist, and seized the moment with alacrity.
My tongue slid in the direction her juices and my saliva had been going. The moment I began to rim her arsehole, June gripped my hair tightly, pulling me into her more deeply.
“Jeez, yesss, oh fuck, you are soooo good at thisssss!”
Teasing her there, my fingers pressed in and out, making her squelch and pant. I found her special place and massaged it, before sliding back up and sucking her clit. I slid a finger into her tight dark hole.
June erupted. Her cream coated my face, and I licked as she came and came, her pussy gripping my fingers. That felt so good. It was as though we were one, so intense, so intimate.
When she stopped shaking, I twisted my fingers and smiled up at her.
“Insatiable, but I like it. Your turn now!”
With that, she rolled me over onto my back, sliding my legs across her shoulders and began to devour my wetness.
Her tongue slid into my stickiness, and I gripped her head. Oh! That felt good. Sometimes I felt nothing, or very little there, but June, well with her it was all systems firing on full.
Carefully, she teased into my tunnel with just one finger, which was perfect. I responded by pivoting myself to ease her passage in. She was not to know how difficult I found penetration, so I whispered:
“One is just perfect, June!”
And it was. And what was better, was that I could hear my own wetness as she squished in. I moaned as she pressed deeper. I felt her thumb against my clit and gyrated my hips to take more and increase the pressure.
“Does my girl like that?” June whispered.
“Oh June, yes, yes I do!”
The twin pressure points where her finger and thumb were taking me caused shocks of pleasure to pulse through me. My nipples felt as though they ached, and June seemed to know, as she sucked each one, making me grip her finger and push.
“Yes, yes, I want you Fabienne. You want me to take you?”
Even as she uttered those words, there was only one answer, and I gave it – as my orgasm swept over me like a huge wave. I just lost myself in the pleasure which she was giving me, not caring about anything except being there for her and with her, giving and receiving pleasure.
I felt a loss as her finger slid out, once I had stopped gripping it,
It was a question, I suppose, but that was not how I took it, and so I sucked.
June slid her wet, sweaty body up mine and kissed me.
“That was so good, Fabienne. And for you?”
Lazily, suddenly tired again, I snuggled her to me.
“Well, you’re going to need to change the sheets,” I giggled, “which is a good sign,”
“Can I ask a question?” June asked, as she idly played with my left nipple.
“Can I stop you?” I answered.
“I’d only ask again, but as it’s personal, it’s okay if you don’t want to say.”
“Shoot,” I said, feeling a sense of unease.
“When I was eating your cute pussy, it looked different from others I have seen.”
“How many mixed-race women have you eaten out?” I joked. “We look more like ripe figs than white pussy!”
“You’re kaçak bahis funny!”
“Glad you think so,” I responded, still fencing.
“Not that,” she giggled, “though you are correct. No, it’s just I could not help noticing your clit is quite, erm, small, and even one finger seemed to need easing in.”
“Well observed,” I responded, feeling rather as though I was a specimen.
“Is that to do with your height and things?’
I did not want to discuss “the syndrome” with my new lover.
My previous sexual dalliances had allowed me to avoid this moment.
I liked to please. It was not an “act,” but it did serve my purposes, which were to please my lover, but also to conceal part of myself.
Maybe everyone does that, I don’t know, not being “everyone.” But the syndrome had left me a marked woman. I was so obviously not “normal.” It’s easy to say “what’s normal?” when you are. It’s meant kindly. We are all our own kind of “normal” to our own eyes, but most of us are also “normal” in the eyes of others. We fit the common view of what a woman looks like.
Yes, there were the figures of beauty like Elle and Anne, who effortlessly attracted attention by their physical appearance, but Amy and Penny, while the former might think herself “fat” and the latter “past it,” fitted along the spectrum of what “society” expected a woman to look like. So it was, to me, a form of virtue-signalling, to say “what’s normal anyway?” The simple answer was, “you are.” The unstated complication was, “but I am not.”
Women were not four foot eight inches. Women had discernible breasts, not bee-stings. Women were flexible where nature (and men) needed them to be. Women looked… well not like me. I’d been mistaken too often for someone younger for me to be under any illusions.
If biology is destiny, then its effect is intensified by circumstances. Maybe a girl born in other circumstances could have been encouraged and supported, loved for who she was and have grown up feeling that. Maybe a girl from whom something was expected at school could have found there, compensation for what she lacked elsewhere. But none of that had been my lot.
My mother and family had expected nothing from the runt of the litter. I was not “right” and that was all there was to it.
Someone said that what does not destroy you makes you stronger, but they forgot to add that it helps if your brain and emotions can compartmentalise things to ease the pain.
My nature was one which liked to be helpful. That was, I discovered, a huge plus. Whether in school, or at the Agency or the university, my willingness to help attracted people and won approval. I had early on realised that I needed approval.
Oh how I wished I could have been one of those “figures of beauty,” who looked at the men (and women) who were pulled to them like moths to the flame, and cared not a fig what they thought about them. But I was not like that, not at all.
Elle, of all people, had finally spotted it. There was a part of me which was ring-fenced with the emotional equivalent of barbed wire and a minefield. “Do not enter.”
How then, I mused, as my brain processed June’s probing questions, was I to process what was happening?
It was sex. It was good sex. No, it was great sex!
June was a wonderful woman and a great lover. So, let’s make love and have fun. I was only in the UK for a few more weeks. Be nice to her. That was hardly difficult. Yes, have fun.
“Yes, it does,” I said, answering her question. “I lack one x chromosome and it means, among other things, that my body did not fully develop. One effect is my pussy does not look quite like yours.”
I braced myself.
‘Idiot, crétin,’ I thought to myself. What was I thinking letting that out.
“Tasted fine to me, darling,” June said, snuggling herself in, “and I adore your tiny tits,” she added, kissing them to show her appreciation. “But you’ll get bored with me, I am nothing special.”
A shiver ran through me as she said that. I stroked her hair.
“Will I now?” I asked.
“Yes, I am a very ordinary woman. Look at what you have achieved and where you work, not to mention you being a lesbian lothario!”
“Oh definitely don’t mention that,” I laughed.
“It’s okay,” she sighed, “we can have fun until whenever!”
“Oh whenever, yes,” I teased her, “the tenth of whenever is when the fun stops!”
“You must think I am a bit of a slut?” June said, with a tinge of sadness in her voice.
“I think when a woman overwhelms one it’s called passion,” I said.
“What, illegal bahis ripping your clothes off and jumping into bed and fucking?”
“How about being overcome with lust and making mad passionate love?”
“Hey you!” June giggled, “it’s my native tongue, where’d you get so poetic with it?”
“I like your native tongue,” I giggled before pulling her up and kissing her.
As our tongues played, I felt some of the tension ease, before, suddenly, she got tense again.
“Hell,” she said, “the restaurant! Let me text Wolfie. What time is it?”
It was eight, and I told her.
She texted. There was a pingback a few minutes later.
“Aww what a sweetie!”
“What, darling?” I asked, hardly noticing the endearment.
She showed me.
In response to her text saying we’d be at the restaurant for nine to tidy up, Wolfie had replied:
“if you and Fab r an item, no work. Will call in cover. Take a day off, xxx Wolfie.”
I smiled as her face lit up.
“Hurray!” She giggled, “now we can fuck like bunnies all day.”
“I’ve found this woman,” I said, “and I’d rather make mad passionate love with her, sorry.”
For the briefest of nanoseconds I could sense her tense, before she got it.
“If she’s anything like me she’d like that.”
“Oh, she is,” I added, “but first, breakfast. Let me get you something.”
“Hey you, I am the waitress, you after my job?”
“You know how it goes,” I joked, “first your knickers, then your job!”
“Cheeky wench! Anyway, you don’t know where anything is – and you’re naked.”
I looked down as though in surprise.
“So I am! What a slut,” I giggled, finding my knickers and pulling them on. “There, solved that – now, coffee and anything I can rustle up?”
June looked surprised.
“No one ever offered me after-sex breakfast!”
“You never had before breakfast sex with me,” I giggled, turning and going to the door.
I found my vest just outside the door, and followed the trail of our discarded clothing downstairs.
Rootling round, I found a stove-top coffee pot and some real coffee; I approved! I put it on and made us some coffee to revive us. Looking in her fridge, I found a couple of pain au chocolat and warmed them in her microwave. Frothing up some hot milk to make us a cappuccino, I found a tray and took it upstairs.
June looked delicious, naked on the bed.
“Wow! You did it? I was expecting a cup of tea!”
“Well, I can’t keep up with your sexual appetite on tea,” I giggled, “strong coffee is needed!”
“Wimp!” She joked.
I sat next to her while we ate.
“Those crumbs on your breasts will get into the bed unless I lick them off,” I said.
“Any excuse to get your hands on my tits, I see!” June giggled.
“Oh it’s my mouth,” I said, leaning in and licking the crumbs off her breasts. I took the remaining part of my pain au chocolat and rubbed the chocolate onto her left nipple.
“Chocolate nipple,” I giggled, “my favourite!”
I sucked the chocolate off, slowly.
“You,” she moaned, “are a very dirty girl.”
“Well,” I giggled, “it’s not my tits that have chocolate on them, so care to revise that!”
Her answer was lost as I pushed her back, my left hand on her breast as I sucked harder. Falling back, her legs opened for me, and so, sliding my right leg between them, I adjusted our positions so that I could scissor with her.
“Insatiable!” June moaned as our eyes locked.
“Fuck no,” she said, gyrating so that her wetness was now pushing onto mine. As our clits touched, we both moaned. We rubbed and pressed, her breasts swaying so that I reached out with my free hand to play with them. As I gripped and teased her, June whimpered more and more loudly, digging her bum into the mattress so she could push more effectively, her free hand on my hip.
Oh it felt so good, and as our wetness mingled, it felt as though we were one. Our eyes locked.
“One?” I said.
“One!” June nodded.
Rhythmically we rocked and pushed, the sensations clearly doing for her what they were for me.
“Jeez you’re hot!” June gasped.
“You make my pussy drip, you adorable woman.”
“Good, hate to think I was the only one!” June giggled before sighing and pressing tight.
Rubbing and pressing, our bodies intertwined. I felt so alive.
The room was filled with our scent, and as the inevitable came closer, our eyes locked:
“Together?” June asked.
“Now!” I moaned.
And we did, cumming as one!”
We collapsed together.
“I could get used to this,” I sighed.
“Me too,” good old Wolfie, just think, we could be cleaning the restaurant now!”
“Which reminds me,” I said, scooting down the bed to lick up her nectar. The day could wait.