Discovering Emelie

In all honesty, I've never been an openly accepting or versatile person. I grew up in a traditional, Christian family, and was always the pretty little blonde in the second row of pews at Sunday service. I played with my dolls, had mock tea parties, braided hair, and had sleepovers every Friday night. I was the epitome of the wholesome girl-next-door image.

I had my first kiss at 13, along with my first crush. I fell in love at 15, had my heart broken three months later, and, against my parents' beliefs and the promises I made to them, lost my virginity at 16 with my best guy friend. And through all that, I was never aware of what being captivated by someone really meant.

I went on to be prom queen my junior year and homecoming queen my senior year, captain of the dance team, and champion tennis player at my local high school, Bennet High. That was also where I met Emelie.

That term I was placed in a photography class that I hadn't signed up for; a slight mistake of the guidance office. I filed my claim with the front desk and was informed that I would have to stick with it for the first week until they'd gotten other schedules arranged. I was disappointed, until I walked into room 107 and saw the girl that would eventually turn my whole life inside out.

She was beautiful, and dangerous; dark hair that swept into her eyes and fell around her face in angled layers, piercing gray eyes lined with smudged black makeup, pale, porcelain skin, all crowning a slender, long body that would make a runway model self conscious. Her skin was littered with piercings: her lower lip, eyebrow, and a little diamond Madonna. I'd never seen such a pretty thing before. And instantly I was hyperaware of myself.

I'm around 5'7" with a dancer's physique: long limbs, sinewy muscles, slim hips, firm assets. I loved the way I looked, and never felt odd in my skin, until I saw Emelie.

She saw me staring at her from across the room, I could tell. I could feel her gaze on my back as I set up my tripod, played with filters, and thought about how my heart raced even when I wasn't near her.

This is insane, I said to myself. Why do I feel prickling sensations up my thighs when she plays with her hair? Why do I blush when she catches me staring? I'd always thought I was exclusively heterosexual. I never thought I could be attracted to another girl.

A few days went by like this. In the morning I woke up a little early and scrutinized my reflection, perfecting all my flaws. I made sure never to have bad breath, and found myself wearing the sexiest of my lingerie under my Cali-girl tank tops and ripped jeans. And while I did all this, I thought about Emelie. Every night, I'd think about her more; by the end of the week I'd fantasized her in bed with me, sweating, my hands roaming her beautiful pale body, her plump lips pressed against my own. I was never ashamed, only hopeful to see her the next day.

Three weeks into the class, we were told we'd be starting our term project: creating a portfolio of someone else in the class, using different angles, lighting, and filters. We had to find a partner for the project, the part that had me at a loss. None of my friends, the dance girls, were in this class. It was a strictly art-geek/scene-kid gathering. So I waited as friends paired up. I watched across the room as Emelie turned down her best friend and a few other acquaintances. This confused me; whom was she going to partner with?

I was almost knocked off my feet when she approached me. I could smell her hair, her perfume, as she leaned over the table and looked me in the eye. She smelled of Chanel No. 5, which surprised me: it was almost too classic to be Emelie's signature scent. Her shampoo had a peppermint and lemon smell to it; clean, and also the essence I'd come to relate to glass shattering orgasms.

My mind was wiped clean as Emelie reached out and picked up the pendant around my neck, her slender fingers just caressing the flesh between my breasts. "I love this, Kaitlyn."

I gulped. I gasped for air. I'm sure I blushed the same color as I would after an orgasm. "Uhm... thanks... family heirloom." I blinked a few times, searching her face; what was she trying to do?

Emelie perched herself on the edge of the table; when she swung her legs, her tight jeans made the same noise as wet hair rubbing against a pillow, another sound I'd add to my sex dictionary in the coming weeks.

"So, do you have a partner?" Her tone was playful... flirtatious?

"No, I don't really have many friends in this class," I replied, looking away.

Emelie laughed. "What, your little ballerina buddies don't like playing with cameras instead of their boyfriends' dicks?"

I was taken aback, but I found myself laughing along. Truth be told, I wasn't even supposed to be in this class, but I found myself enjoying it more and more.

Somehow through this little exchange I found confidence. "Do you usually slam peoples' friends to gain a partner on a project?"

She smiled, a little cocked half-grin that made me want to touch her lips. "Only if that person is exceptionally hot."

I laughed. And my mind raced. And I wanted to kiss her. But most of all, I was ecstatic; the girl I'd been thinking about for weeks wanted to be my partner on a project that would last the rest of the term. I was the luckiest person in that class, by far.

Throughout the next few days, Emelie and I used our class period together to plan each of our twelve individual portraits. We had to figure out color schemes, settings, lighting, and filters. But what I wanted to figure out most was why I could not get this girl off my mind.

Our first weekend of shooting, we each took two successful frames. I relished in being able to stare at Emelie, telling her what to do with herself, how to look at me. It was unbelievable. I fell in love with her that day. The rest of the weekend we spent together, getting coffee, talking, and growing inseparable.

The next Friday, I invited Emelie to watch movies in the guesthouse, a ritual I did every weekend with my friends. This weekend, however, I made it just the two of us.

We watched endless comedies, two horror films, and then a romance. Somehow during that night we discovered we liked to talk more than laugh at a movie. I learned about her childhood and her family, her friends. I told her about everything I could think of; her big gray eyes drank in my words like a child's would.

The tensions were building between us; I could feel them all too well. I wanted to fold myself into her arms, and kiss her pretty little pout, and make her moan. I wanted to find out what she tasted like and see what color her panties were. I wanted to know if she had other piercings or secret tattoos. And then, somehow, her hand found mine in the darkness, and then my head found the crevice of her neck, and her hands roamed my body, making little gasps escape me.

I looked up and saw those eyes. And an intense passion consumed me. I pinned Emelie to the mattress of my queen size bed, and I straddled her torso. We were both wearing boyshort panties and stretchy tank tops. She ran her long hands up my tan, naked thighs, and rested them on my hips. One slid up the back of my cami, and pulled me down close to her face. I leaned in and stole that kiss I had wanted for ages. Our soft, feminine lips crashed together in earnest. My tongue parted her lips and I pushed it inside her mouth, evoking a groan from the depths of Emelie's throat. We made out for endless minutes, Emelie rolling over on top of me and touching the soft curve of my breast through my shirt. I could feel the wetness building between my legs, and her leg slipping between mine, rocking against me, both of us sweating, making me whimper.

Emelie slid her hand up my bare inner thigh, to my wet panties. She touched me through the cotton, rubbed the fabric over my clit. That was when I lost control.

I pulled myself up and ripped off my tank, casting it aside. The flickering of the TV screen highlighted my C-cup breasts, perky and flushed with desire. Emelie watched me for just a second; then she pulled me to her, her lips meeting mine again. They traveled down my neck, across my collarbone, between my breasts, and found their way to my left nipple. With a surprising fierceness, she used her tongue and teeth to tease my nipples until they were rock hard. Her hands molded my breasts over my rib cage, making me moan. I pulled Emelie's shirt over her head and pushed her back on the bed, wanting to see her naked in front of me. I was straddling her knees as I took in the sight of her long, pale body stretched out on my Egyptian cotton sheets; her breasts were soft, rising and falling heavily with her breath. Her hair was disheveled, and her body was beautiful. She was beautiful.

I laid my warm flesh upon hers, taking in everything: the way she felt under me as her hands roamed my body; how she smelled the same as the first time I'd talked to her; how she moaned, "Kaitlyn, oh, Kaity!" as I kissed her everywhere and touched her body.

I slid my hands south, over her panties and between her legs. I felt her own wetness through the fabric of her underwear, and as I rubbed her with two fingers up and down her covered pussy, I could feel the vibrations of her moans against my lips and teeth. It was unbearable. I'd never done this before; I didn't know what to do. But I didn't need to.

Emelie rolled me over onto my back, so my breasts were splayed over my rib cage and my brown nipples stood up toward the ceiling. She watched me for a minute as she rubbed me through my panties, taking in my expressions and listening to me groan and growl. I looked into her eyes. "Em... More... Please." I needed more. I craved the release of an orgasm, but I didn't want it to end.

Emelie laughed and kissed me again, then let her mouth travel down my body, licking, nibbling, sucking, and kissing her way down. Glancing over her shoulder at the big mirror on the wall, I was greeted with a breathtaking view of Emelie bent over with her ass in the air, her panties sliding up her crack and letting a pink pussy lip peek out. That image still turns me on when I think about it.

I was torn away from the mirror when Emelie's warm fingers slipped under the waistband of my panties and pulled them over my thighs and down my legs. She slipped them off my feet and cast them aside, spreading my knees to see my bare pussy writhing with wet desire and excitement.

She kissed me again, and then moved back down. She looked like she was going to examine it for a minute, but then she moved her head forward and her tongue reached out. She licked me softly in one long stroke, slightly parting my lips. It was unbelievable. I almost screamed with pleasure, but I was nowhere near release.

My mind raced as I thought about what I was doing. But as Emelie's tongue worked around my clit, never touching it, I was torn away from thinking how wrong this was. I threw my head back on the pillows as two warm fingers pressed up into me, pumping slowly, in and out. Emelie used her tongue to tease around her fingers, letting it slip up every few seconds to flick my clit. I panted, sweated, and pressed back into the pillows with each thrust of her fingers. Suddenly I felt her soft lips close down over my clitoris, and her tongue flicking leisurely back and forth. She finger-fucked me faster, deeper; I never realized how long her fingers were.

I was coming to close to orgasm, and now I was incredibly close to screaming out in pleasure. Emelie's other hand roamed up to my left breast and she played with my nipple, pinching and rolling it between her fingers. When she started nipping at my clit with her teeth and sucked it and the surrounding flesh into her mouth, rolling her tongue over it quickly, I let out a loud squeal. I was cumming, fast.

Emelie pressed her fingers up into me once more and instead of completing the thrusting motion, she rubbed the inside of me, pulsing her fingers. She licked my clit fast and hard in a butterfly motion, and I came then. She continued to rub and lick me until I was finished fifteen seconds later. Then she cleaned me up with little strokes of her tongue.

She giggled as I lay panting on the bed, so incredibly spent but wanting so much more. She crawled up, on her hands and knees, until she was on top of me. She let her slender body fall over my own slowly, and took my jaw in her hands, kissing me again. I could taste my wetness on her lips as I tongued her mouth passionately. I ended the kiss and she fell over next to me, licking her lips. We were both out of breath and I knew she was still really horny.

We lay there, panting, for a few minutes, every few seconds, giggling and bursting into spurts of laughter. After a while, Emelie sat up lazily, pulling the sheet around her. "There's a shower in here, right?" she asked, gesturing around the guesthouse.

I nodded and got up, walking into the bathroom. "In here!"

I heard Emelie's footsteps as she followed me. I ran the water. "Shower or bath?"

"Shower," Emelie replied, watching me bend over to adjust the heat of the water. I laughed, noticing my position, and stood up. "It's all yours."

But as I walked out, Em grabbed my hand and spun me around. "Join me?"

I smiled, and nodded. She pulled me into a naked embrace, kissing me again. It was heaven.

We got into the large marble tub and started the multiple showerheads. I slid the glass doors closed, shutting us into our own little room of hot steam.

I watched quietly as Emelie raised her hands over her head, running them through her hair to wet it all the way. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted, her breasts raised with her arms. Her slender, pale body was slick with water, and I couldn't stand it anymore.

I pinned her against the wall, evoking a startled yelp from Emelie. When she laughed, I covered her mouth with my hand, silencing her. I kissed her mouth, our tongues running over each other, biting each other's lips... it was unbelievable. My hands ran themselves over her body as my mouth traveled over her jaw, neck, collarbone, chests, and shoulders, then trailed back up to her supple mouth.

I ran one of my hands down her lower back and over her smooth ass. I found the gap between her legs with my fingers, and started rubbing her pussy from behind. She gyrated against my palm, crashing her clit into my fingers, massaging herself over my hand. She was so wet, with water and with her juices.

I pushed my middle finger up into her, feeling up her tight pussy. She was breathing hard and we were still kissing. I pinned her hands over her head with my free one, and inserted another finger, pulling her against me. I finger fucked her for a few minutes, bringing her to the verge of her orgasm. Then I kneeled down in the shower and pulled out my fingers, letting go of her hands. I pulled one of her hands down so she was touching her mound, and told her to touch herself. She started rubbing her clit in circles, moaning. I spread her legs a bit and leaned my back against the shower too, so Emelie was just about sitting on my face, masturbating. I grabbed her around the hips and pushed my tongue up into her pussy as far as I could, flicking it around a few inches inside her. Emelie started moaning, groaning, and as she pushed down on my tongue the last few times, she let out an amazing scream, bucking against my face, her knees giving out. She tasted like honey and salt.

We got out of the shower and lay back in bed, naked, dripping wet on the sheets. We kissed, touched, and I knew for the rest of the night we wouldn't be watching movies anymore.