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From: "Hildegarde Bingen" <hildegardeb@hotmail.com>
Subject: First Night With Kim (f,f)
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    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.
    

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