Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers
"Good morning, Christine," I said, leaning on one elbow, my body artistically draped in wrinkled sheet.
She snuffled a little in her sleep, then one eye slowly opened. "Where am I - oh...yeah," she replied, a slow smile dawning on her teenaged face. "You seduced me."
"Hardly," I said. "I guess we just wore each other out, huh?"
"Yeah, that's about it," she agreed. "Where'd you learn to tongue a clit so perfectly?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever cum that many times in one night."
"It must come naturally - if you'd run across me a week ago, I'm not sure I'd have been willing to, um, lick your pussy."
"But, I'm very glad that I did," I added hurriedly.
"Huh." She looked annoyed.
"You act as though I'm easy," Christine said, tossing her hair to the side. That kind of thing probably looks better in the commercials, after the model's hair has been super treated to be *just so*, and float about like a wave in a dream. After sleeping on it all night, Christine's hair just kind of flopped to one side.
"Why are you smiling?" Christine asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," I said. "I think you're beautiful."
"Thanks, so are you," she said. "So...I need a shower, point me..." She sat up, and the sheet fell charmingly to her waist, allowing me a lovely view of her small but fair breasts, tipped by small pink nipples. I felt a sweet stirring in my clit, and began to reach for her.
"Join me," she said, reading my mind. Finding that to be a very good idea, I ran my fingers through my short, black hair and took her hand, two nude women off to have an adventure in the bathroom.
"Gotta pee," Christine said, as I heard the toilet lid tap against the tank. "Get the water hot, okay? I won't be long." I turned to the shower stall and set the controls. I heard a hissing coming from her seat, and I thought about Beth on the toilet, and how erotic I had found that. Was I developing some kind of toilet fetish? And was peeing in front of other women some kind of lesbian thing? I wondered.
After about thirty seconds, Christine unashamedly raised herself up, then wiped with a few squares of tissue, turning to toss it into the bowl and watch it on its journey to, well, wherever. I watched her cute ass cheeks flex, then jiggle, and I was tempted to pat her rear.
"Why the hell not?" I asked myself, and did, enjoying the feel of her plump, round ass cheeks under my fingers.
"Mmm, feels nice," Christine sighed, then took me into her arms, our naked bodies warm against each other. Her nipples were pointed, pressing into my breasts, her flat tummy occasionally touching against my slightly plumper one. Christine giggled.
"Your hair tickles my pussy," she said, bereft as she was of any pubic hair to cushion herself. "Kinda scratchy."
"Maybe I should shave mine," I said.
"Maybe you should?" Christine returned. "We'll use your razor." She took my hand and drew me into the shower with her, steam billowing around us.
"Ah, lovely hot," she sighed, melting again into me. I grabbed for the shampoo bottle.
"I've got to do my hair," I explained, "or I don't feel as though I've cleaned myself at all."
I put a dollop on my scalp, and was just about to start massaging it in. "Let me," Christine said coyly, "then you can do me." She stood behind me, her fingers beginning to work a kind of magic on my scalp, working the lather in, but also working tension out of my scalp, as I felt it drain down my back along with the suds.
"Oh, Christine...that feels so good," I moaned. Christine moved in closer behind me, her breasts pressing against my shoulder blades, her hands slipping down from my head, to the back of my neck, where she massaged tense muscles, then on to my shoulders and upper back and arms.
The pleasure of her familiarly intimate touch there, while not erotic, was one of the loveliest, sweetest pleasures I have ever experienced, and certainly on a par with some of my most memorable bed moments. I slid and writhed under her soapy, silky touch, her fingers gliding along my smooth flesh, caressing, touch, invading and ultimately taking ownership. I shuddered with pleasure, submitting to her touch.
I felt Christine's breath race over my shoulder, then across my throat, under my chin, as she nuzzled me softly, her mouth on a most vulnerable spot, her lips on me, feeling my pulse with lips and tongue. My head leaned backwards, swiveling to allow her access to me, to any part of me, surrendering to her. She kissed me there, then nibbled lazily, a female lion with a gazelle between her jaws, choosing, for the moment, mercy.
Happily, then, she struck, her right hand slipping soapily over my hip, then down over my stomach, nails lightly scratching my vulnerable flesh, white streaks of terrified flesh like sexual contrails marking her passage. My hips and vulva involuntarily pushed out, anxious for her touch, my clit swelling with anticipation and desire, soft, mewing sounds from my throat guiding her.
One finger ran over exposed clitoris, and a gasp exploded from me, as a brilliant orgasm coursed through me in nano seconds, yet seemed to last for a pleasurable eternity. Hips shaking, I moaned, my mouth slack and open, her lips covering mine as we stretched into each other for fulfillment.
"Oh god, yes, yes, yessssssssss," I hissed, my knees weak. The water continued streaming down our bodies, rivulets of silvery liquid joining and parting, taking their own course down cheeks, gamboling between breasts, gushing between thighs, joining the wetness already there, to splash to the tile below.
"Was it good, baby?" my teenaged lover asked unnecessarily, teasing me.
"Yes," I gasped. "God, you really know how to take a shower!" Christine giggled.
"Eat me," she commanded.
"What?" I asked, only a little surprised by the request, but confused by her tone.
"Eat my cunt, you fucking slut," she ordered me, pressing on my shoulders until they actually hurt a little from the pressure. "Go on," she added.
I got down on my knees, between her legs. I could feel a few stray needle-like streams of hot water hitting my scalp, but the bulk of the water hit her breasts, and coursed down her stomach, then channeled down between her thighs.
"The water..." I whined. She turned slightly so that the deluge ran down her hip instead.
"Now, lick pussy," she ordered me again. I gazed at her pussy, a perfect depiction of a woman's vulva. Perhaps I would have admired it even before I realized my attraction to other women, but in my evolved state it was a fascinating work of art, as well as a stimulant to my own lust. Her outer labia were plump and swelling with her excitement, blood filling her tissues, the lips turning a darker red from her normal, unremarkable pink.
The slit between, the pussy which brought me pleasure through its sweet, musky fragrance, salty taste, and enchantingly slick texture, was dark, a secret cavern entrance guarding the secret within. I caught a faint whiff of her, Christine's special aroma that I fantasized she produced only for me, my mouth watering while my eyes feasted.
Above it all, a smooth pink, plain, extension of her lower belly, showing no evidence of the pubic bush that she had removed, excitingly exposing the jewel of her femininity, her clitoris. Her sweet, little pearl, so beautiful to my befuddled eyes, stood bravely alone, her clitoral hood retracted due to Christine's anticipated pleasure. Small, nearly perfectly round, glistening with water and her body's excitement, it gleamed in the shower's light, a perfect jewel formed just for me to worship.
And worship it, and her, I did. I gently kissed her directly on her plumping little organ, similar to, but so much better than a male's cock. She shivered, as ecstatic electricity began to make its way along every nerve extending from clitoris, through hips and thighs, to every other part of her delectable, young female body. I felt her hands caressing my wet hair, and gently urging me forward.
