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From: Frederik Pileborg <frederik.pileborg@swipnet.se>
Subject: {pUSSEL} "What Is Wrong With Mary?" ( FF f-solo rom )
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DISCLAIMER: This text file is a graphic description of sex between
consentual persons. If this textfile should fall into the hands of someone
who has no legal right to possess it, it is not because of any action the
writer has taken. So if you are prohibited to read it: I don't care!
Note from the author:
This is my second, not so feeble attempt at writing erotica. With the
arrival of my very first fan mail, just a few minutes ago, I am right now
desperatly trying to think up an acceptable story involving two women, and
maybe some dildos.
This brings to mind a small story about me and some friends that
got together and went out to another friend, far out in the forest. There
we got drunk on tequila and fine swedish vodka. Then we found a really big
dildo. Our friend said it was just a bikelock, but he chased us , and
tried to whip us with it, so it was a dildo alright. The guy lived 5000
miles into nowhere, with no tv, stereo, computer, car, water or fresh air,
so there is no wonder he needed something to do on his spare time. Never
did figure out why the dildo had a keyhole though.
Anyway, since some qauck survey I read a long time ago stated that
only 15-25% of lesbian couples ever used dildos, and that some even shunned
it because the felt that penetration was the "male" way of sex and
therefore a threat to their womanhood (survey didn't specify if fingers
were acceptable), I thought that the "conversion" of such a woman would be
fun.
Also notice how the story gets more randy as I got more horny, and
please notice that penetrate is a damn ugly word, but I couldn't think of a
good synonym. And if you like this story, try reading my first one
"Sharing Bodily Fluids", but beware! It contains lesbians indulging in
watersports, so if you find that sort of thing icky, avoid it like the
plague. On the other hand it is a bit more graphic than this one, wich
puts a little more emphasis on romance. Any comments, love-letters,
scanned in pictures of huge wads of money, hatemail, etc.
frederik.pileborg@swipnet.se is the address to use, all mails kindly
accepted.
This text is Public Domain and may be read, spread, printed out,
archived, and flushed down the toilet by anyone (local laws
allowing). (Be careful, in some countries, it is actually illegal
to flush crap down the toilet.)
"Every time you say the word "masturbate", a mormon dies. So I
would just like to say that masturbate I don't masturbate think
that masturbate you should masturbate hurt them masturbate in such
a masturbate cruel way, masturbate masturbate." -pUSSEL.
"Love: the feeling where your heart beats faster, you seem to have
trouble breathing, and your skin becomes flushed. But you have
yet to sustain sexual arousal. If you feel that way when your
partner enters the room, you are in love. If you feel that way
and your alone, you are having a heart attack. If you feel that
way while in a prison shower, just bend over." -pUSSEL
What Is Wrong With Mary? (FF, f-solo, rom)
by pUSSEL (Lord of Ken and Barbies Malibu Beach House)
(Written with the amazing power of not wearing pants.)
Mary had always been shy about her homosexuality. She confessed to her
parents when she was sixteen, on the phone, and drunk like you would not
believe. Her parents dismissed this as "phase", as parents often do, their
inability to accept her making her reluctant to share her feelings. Only
in the tranquil state of after-sex did I manage to get her to talk without
reservations.
Holding her to my breasts, stroking her soft hair, I got her to
talk about herself, her feelings, thoughts on future, past, and present.
And when she got to talking about me, she went into lenghty detailed
descriptions of how much she adored every feature of me, and how much she
loved me, the kind of love that is so sweet it almost brings tears to your
eyes (or makes you puke). I couldn't keep from crying when she once said
that the best thing in the world was a hugging me. She stopped and asked
what was wrong, why I was crying. I said I cried because she made me so
happy, and asked if she never had cried because of happiness. She said no,
and I irrationally felt like I had to protect her from all evils in the
world, this poor girl that only cried out of sorrow. Being three years her
senior also added to my maternal instinct for her.
She never cried though, meaning that though she had her own burden
of greifs and personal issues, none of them made her unhappy in her daily
life. It always pained me though that she sometimes was reluctant to show
affection for me if she felt the place was to public, but I couldn't blaim
her since it seemed to hurt her more than me, and she always made up for it
when we came home.
In privacy she let her feelings out, touching me going by as we
went about our houshold duties. Hugging me from behind for no reason, not
that she ever needed a reason or excuse to touch me. And if she showed her
real personality in private, she showed her real desires in bed.
Sometimes she would quietly sneak up behind me and press herself
against my back, and run her tongue up my neck from my shoulder to my ear,
a sure sign that she wanted to fool around, and that at this very minute.
I would turn around and kiss her deep (for us, there is no other way to
kiss), and use my hands to stroke her upper body, gently removing peices of
clothing, while at the same time steering us to the bedroom or nearest soft
furniture if we were really horny. In the heat of sexual passion she was
not afraid not give directions, urging me on, telling me to stroke that
particular piece of skin, licking more to the right, but mostly just
yelling that she never ever wanted me to stop. But there was always one
thing she refused, to my great frustration.
---
Since I was young I noticed that my panties sometimes where sticky,
especially after talking abut something exciting with the other girls, like
sex for instance. With the adventurers lust of a girl I soon discovered
that physical stimulation of my crotch was something completely
unparalleled. And after thorough exploration of ways to stimulate myself
on the outside, I discovered that putting your finger inside was quite the
thrill. Why even go outside to be entertained, I wondered, when one can
stay home and do this.
When I got older I realized that people *did* infact stay home and
do it, and that without sex people would surely go mad. I also realized
that my fingers didn't have exclusive rights to penetrating me. (I also
started to notice my growing infatuation with other girls, but that is
another story.)
The handle of my hairbrush was soon stuck up inside me, and the
removed and reinserted in the usual manner. I loved that brush, and I
still have it, even use it sometimes when I get sentimental. It was a very
nice brush, it's handle four inches long, three quarters of an inch thick,
with big bumps on it so you could get a good grip. The bumps really served
their purpose, making me grip the edge of my bed, my breasts, my nipples,
and my sheets in orgasmic bliss.
The handle of the brush also supplied me with my first taste of a
womans essence. I would coat it with a thick layer of my vaginal fluids,
and slowly lick it off, presenting in my mind the images of whatever girl
at school I fancied the most at the moment, pretending I was with them and
not alone. I would now and then conjur up a rational thought during these
slow, juice-tasting sessions, wondering if I could taste this good, how
good would not another girl taste? (I obviously found out, eventually, but
again, that is another story.)
Apart from getting my hymen, the brush also got my anal virginity.
I just thought of it one day in the middle of masturbating, so I took the
brush and pushed about an inch of it into my ass. That really hurt, I got
really scared and tensed up, and the brush shot out of my ass like a rocket
(don't laugh, please). My anus hurt like I had cramp so I rubbed my
fingertips over it to make it go away, and when the pain subsided I found
no reson to stop, since by gently rubbing my anus alone made me breathe
faster. Finishing off the orgasm I had started to build up to, with a
finger going back and forth over my anal opening, I decided that this
warranted further research. Going from pressing at my back entrance, to
one finger, to two fingers, until my ass (and I) gladly accepted peneration
by the handle, its bumps almost making me black out from sensory overload.
When I got old enough I claimed my independence from my parents,
who thought it was cute and let me move out to our guesthouse. I was
delighted as I was getting pretty tired off holding back my moaning, being
a girl that likes to express her sexual joy with her vocal cords.
The guesthouse was situated not far from the main house, but was to
my delight infact a separate address with its own mailbox. I soon had
gotten hold of a mail-order catalogue, spending what I could afford on
dildos and vibrators, building up quite a collection, wich I hid in a deep
in one of the closets since my family visited every day, us being so close
and all.
But at night when I was alone I got my collection out to choose
witch one should be so lucky as to satisfy me. I had a sleak silvery
vibrator, a vibrator that looked like a penis, one that had an extra head
for my ass, one that was only for my ass. I had a realistic dildo with
balls, a dildo with a suction cup, one that looked like it was made out of
flexible glass, buttplugs, and a eighteen inch dildo with two heads that
was really fun when I was in the mood for double penetration. I even got a
strap-on dildo, with small support-plugs for your cunt and ass so it would
fit nice and snuggly, and not fly around the place like a renegade
helicopter. I got it so I could do some roleplaying with the girlfriends
(read: lovers) that I easily snuck into the guesthouse.
Even with this impressive collection, common household items
sometimes caught my fancy, simply because it was a bit nasty to masturbate
with something that wasn't designed for it. Bottles, my toothbrush, and
the ribbed handle of a toiletbrush went up the hole where no man has been
(but many objects have). I didn't have a particular fetish for brushes, it
is just that they often have really nice handles.
I still have all of them, dildos don't break so easily, and even
though a few of the vibrators have vibrated their last vibration due to
overuse they are still good as dildos, and they just cost too much to just
throw away.
---
But Mary was different from my other partners, in the sence that she
refused any penetration other than a careful finger and my tongue. I tried
begging, pleading, even threatening to leave her (a very empty threat, I
simply loved her to much). But she refused and would not talk about her
dildo-phobia. Not even after sex, spooning, with me holding her, she opted
to not explain herself, but instead went to sleep, pressing against me in a
slightly fetal position.
When we masturbated together (as any couple that are comfortable
with each other should do) I put on shows with my beloved playthings. She
always watched with intense concentration, trying to hide her arousal even
though she was fingering herself, sneaking a finger or two into herself.
That is why I didn't stop pestering her about letting me use toys when we
were together. She obviously wasn't turned off by them, what kind of woman
would?
I finally got quite angry with her one night when we just had gone
to bed, almost shouting at her, wondering why she could not bring herself
to tell me what she was hiding when we shared everything else. She looked
away as usual and I was about to say something else when she started
talking.
"Look, I.. it's just.. it seems so stupid... but..." she
struggled with the words. "What? Please... tell me." I said. She sighed
and continued. "Ever since I fought with my parents... I was so angry
with them... telling me that I just hadn't met the right boy... so.. I
decided I was never let a man stick his thing inside me." I looked at her
dumbfounded, thinking what a stupid reason it was, but I realized that she
in reality had a form of compulsive behaviour, even if this one had to do
with *not* doing something. I knew that if I could just get her to try it
she would see that it was just silly to refuse the pleasure.
"Mary, my toys have nothing to do with men. Women just enjoy being
filled, it's how we are built. I use them beacuse it makes me feel good,
and I want you to feel good too. I love you Mary." She cuddled closer to
me. "We can do it together, if you want..." I ventured, and to my surprise
she nodded her head, not saying a word. "You sure?" I asked and she
repeated the gesture.
I got out of the bed and went to my fundrawer, the one filled with
all my toys. I pulled it out and retreived my double-headed dildo, since
it would allow us to be close and kind of equal, unlike the strap-on.
Already wet I slid the nine inches of my half of the dildo inside of me,
easily done after a lot of practicing. I climbed onto the bed holding on
to the protruding part of the dildo with one hand so it wouldn't slip out,
and laid down facing her. "Just do it." she said and I realized she was
just doing it to please me. I edged my crotch closer to hers, and guided
the head of her end towards her cunt. She was so wet the pressure made her
juices owerflow, running down over her ass, and she gasped as the dildo
slid in quite easily, two, then three inches. "Lets sit up." I said, got
on top of her and gently got us up in a sitting position, her legs over
mine. Carefully I ushered her closer to me, pushing more of the dildo into
her, until she was close enough for me to lean forward and kiss, which I
did. She responded, with certain hesitation. I gripped my end with my
cunt muscles and started to slowly rock my hips.
Any inhibitations she ever had against dildos were soon swept away
as she with building energy responded to my gyrations, gripping her own end
making it move inside of me. After a short while we were fucking each
other, no one having the upper hand. We locked our hands together as her
ass stroked against the sensetive skin of my inner thighs, while she
started her small whimpering, usually a sign of her close to orgasm. I
came first however, it taking me by surprise, creeping up on me
unannounced. The sensation was just there, the blessed release, every part
of my body contracting, my fluids jetting out of my urethra in a long
single spurt, spilling onto the bed.
Mary followed my lead shortly there after, pushing herself forward
onto the dildo until she was sitting on my lap. I held her tight and felt
her tense up, her nipples scraping against my skin as small, hot stones.
She buried her face in my neck and feeling a couple of bursts of warm
liquid splash against my lower abdomen I knew she had just had a massive
orgasm. Her juices ran down to my pussy, mixing with my own secretions. I
loved the feel of her essence on my body, her wetness on my stomach, on my
neck. Surprised I lifted her head and saw that she was crying. It scared
me more than anything before until she spoke. "I love you." she said in a
weak voice, and I held her in my arms once again, almost crying myself.
---
Our lovemaking lasted almost two hours, with us in a thight embrace, only
moving out hips pushing the dildo back and forth. Silently we went through
orgasm after orgasm, our juices adding to the drenched spot beneath us.
The only sounds in the room being the light whispers of rain on the window,
our shallow breathing, and the wet, sticky noises made by the dildo we were
sliding into one another, only adding to our arousal. I held back my
normal loudness, not wanting to endanger the sanctity, content with holding
her, feeling her heart beat, and her breath in hot, short bursts on my
shoulder.
We finally drifted off into sleep in each others arms, constantly
making small stroking motions, as if to assure that we were still there.
I still have trouble beleiving that this was what was holding her
back, but it seems so. Since that night the usually introvert Mary began
showing more interest in the outside world. A friend even commented that
he had always wondered what her voice sounded like. Mary overcame her fear
of showing any affection in public, ignoring such rude comments as "check
out those dykes".
And in bed she seemed to take a personal interest in getting to
know each and every one of my toys, her favourite being my small anal
vibrator. She also likes taking me anally with the strap-on, claiming she
finds plugs in both her holes very stimulating, which naturally is true.
Her need for physical contact has increased, not for reassurance or
insecurity, but out of love. Few are the nights when we do not fall asleep
tightly holding each other together in our arms.
The End.
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