A young, somewhat shy girl is walking through the green Irish landscape. She is a typical Irish girl to look at: red hair and freckles. As she walks, her head hanging, her shoulder dropped, her chest pulled in, it starts to rain. Luckily there is a shelter nearby and she hastens to it. When she enters she finds there is somebody there already, A beautiful, somewhat mature woman.
"Hello Bre," she says.
The Irish girl is startled! "Do I know you?" she asks.
The woman smiles and nods. "You might say so. I am Mae. And I know you very well, Bre."
Mae walks up to Bre and looks her in the eyes. "I know that you are a beautiful young woman..."
Bre quickly steps back and drops her head. "I am not beautiful," she interrupts. "See these ugly freckles! And these small boobs. Who likes that!"
The purple-haired Mae smiles and steps forward. She puts her hand under Bre's chin, lifts her head up until she can look in her eyes again and places a tender kiss on the girl's lips.
Startled, Bre wants to pull back but mesmerized by the feel of those soft lips on hers she stays in place.
Mae pulls back a little and murmurs: "Ugly freckles? They are beautiful. I would like to kiss them all!" As she speaks Mae starts kissing Bre's face. "But there are so many, I would never finish. And those tits?"
Bre feels how the hands of Mae start to wander down, ending up on her tits. "And about these," she murmurs, moving her mouth to Bre's ear and softly nibbling on her lobe. "Yes they are not big but does size really matter? They are so firm and soft at the same time." Mae softly kneads Bre's tits.
Bre is totally lost for words. Who IS this woman and what is she doing to her? "Mmmm," she moans, "Ooh."
Mae steps around Bre, brings her right hand around to Bre's belly, moves her hand under her shirt and slides it slowly up, moving left and right on her soft skin, until she meets her naked right tit. She cups the soft tissue and rubs her palm over the nipple that slowly starts hardening.
"Come," she sighs softly in Bre's ear. "Follow my lead,"
Surprised Bre feels how Mae takes her left hand and leads it to follow the same route: around to her belly, under her shirt, moving up, halting a moment on her belly button up again until she feels her hand touching her left tit. Instinctively she grabs her tit and starts kneading it in the same rhythm as Mae.
"Now tell me, aren't they perky and nice," she hears Mae murmur.
Bre can only agree. The feel of her tit in her hand, the stiff nipple poking in the palm is something she has never experienced before. Why, if it feels so good to herself, what must it be to another, exploring, caressing.
"Oh, Mae," she gasps, "Is this how it is to be loved?"
Mae softly laughs. "Oh no, sweety! We are just beginning."
Still holding Bre's tit Mae starts kissing the neck and shoulder of Bre. Then she releases Bre's tit, sliding her hand down, playfully circling her bellybutton and poking it with her finger. Bre gasps. "Ooooh, what are you doing?" "Just playing," responds Mae smiling. Then her hand moves lower and lower until it hits the waistband of her skirt.
Bre trembles, torn between fear that Mae will continue and fear that she won't. Mae smiles as she feels Bre's tremble, reading her well. "So," she teases, "shall I continue?" She starts slowly walking her fingers down her skirt. "Or shall I stop?" And she moves her hand back to the naked belly of Bre.
Bre just gasps and moans, not knowing what to say.