It's All About Endowments
[A young woman with special "endowments" finds her path lies with woman.]
I would lie upon her, laying in the missionary position, and rub my clit against hers.
With one hand holding my breast so and my other hand behind her head, I would guide her mouth to my teat and pouty areola, telling her softly how much she was going to enjoy them.
While I can see her arousal in the firmness of her teat, it is only when I explore the valley of her vulva do I realize the depth of her arousal. It is only when she opens her legs and invites me to look, to touch, to kiss and to lick, do I appreciate her arousal. There is a mystery to it all. When I consider what goes in and comes out 9 months later, I feel that I am in a magical place worthy of worship.
Hi, I'm Morgan. When I was a teenager, I thought I was cursed. As a young woman now, I feel that I am blessed. My areolas are puffy and pouty and my nipples are pronounced and sensitive. I can orgasm with nipple play. I have a large clit which is like a small penis. It is readily noticeable even when I am not aroused. I have found it necessary to wear padded bras, not that I needed the padding, and a thin pad to prevent being constantly aroused. While I have no experience yet with men my impression is that I'd just be another "fuck". Women, on the other hand, I have found are intrigued by my differences. Some literally drool at the sight of my breasts and my clit. Growing up, in the changing room at the community pool, I would notice women looking at me. I would see the tip of their tongues poking slightly through their lips, caressing their lips.
As I write this, I have just graduated from Harvard University, with honors, with a master's degree in finance and international studies. I have my own company. I accompany and assist women holding senior positions in government, corporations and NGOs when they travel the world. I am fluent in French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and Chinese. I am already retained by several clients. My fee is $1,200 per day, with a minimum of3 days if in the States and 5, if outside plus expenses.
Let me share with you how I got here.
I grew up on a horse ranch in northern Wyoming. My siblings and I were home schooled. We lived too far away from the public schools. Our Internet service was via satellite. I found three dimensional learning fascinating going from page to page using embedded links. "Being all that you can be" was something that was always stressed to my siblings and me growing up. You really can't help to be so when you live on a horse ranch and you're expected to do whatever you are able. I learned to be assertive in working with the horses and sensitive to their body language. They did keep me "honest" though. My self-confidence is well grounded.
Based upon my SAT scores, I was accepted to Wellesley College near Boston, MA. Wellesley College is a highly rated, liberal arts college for women. Massachusetts is recognized as being very LGBTQ friendly. My parents felt that attending a woman's college in a LGBTQ friendly community would provide me better opportunities to explore my sexuality. My Mother encouraged me to pursue girl-girl sex. She was apprehensive that young men, boys, would not appreciate my "endowments". She urged me to wait to have intimate relationships with men until I met some who had been "out in the world" for several years.
My first couple of months at Wellesley was uneventful. I kept a low profile. I was socially active but only in groups in which there was no pairing-off. We had ensuite bathrooms in our dorm rooms so maintaining my privacy was easy. I was thought of as a "quiet" farm girl who was adjusting to the "big" city. It all changed one Saturday night.
I was in the bathroom, just having dried off from a shower, reaching for my sleep clothes, when my roommate, Melody, burst through the door, "Sorry, I really have to pee!"
I froze. Melody pulled down her jeans and panties and plopped onto the commode seat, elbows resting on her knees, her head in her hands looking at the floor. "I drank way too much," she moaned to no one.
Her pee fell loudly into the water. She really did have to pee! She reached out, took T-paper and dried herself. I hadn't budged. Then she looked up. "Holy shit, you got a cock!" she blurted out.
It broke my trance. I grabbed my sleepwear and ran from the room. I put on my sleep shirt and boxer shorts quickly, climbed into bed, turned my bed stand light off and turned onto my side facing away from the bathroom door.
I heard her take a shower. When she came out of the bathroom she walked and sat on the side of her bed facing me.
"Morgan, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." She pleaded.
I rolled over and looked at her. "I know."
"I don't understand," she said.
"I don't have a cock. I have an exceptionally large clit."
"Wow! Can I see it?"
I was excited. I had hoped for this when I came to Wellesley and now it was happening. It came to me. I didn't have to go looking for it. I kicked off the covers, slipped off my boxers, and sat up on the edge of my bed facing her with my knees as far apart as I could.
Melody slid to the floor and kneeled between my legs. She looked. She looked from above, from below and from both sides. "Can I touch it?" she asked.
"Yes!" I said trying to hold back my eagerness.
It was electric when she did. It was the first time anyone did except my parents when I was a baby, my Mother when I was a child or the doctor later. Me, I touched it a lot. I learned about masturbation early.
Melody's touch felt a lot better than mine. My clit was responding to the attention. It was "standing tall". "That feels good," I told her.
She held it between two fingers and began pumping it slightly. "That feels even better," I said.
"Then you'll like this," she said as she lowered her mouth to engulf it. She slowly withdrew it, sucking upon it before engulfing it again. Her tongue was all over it. It was like she was sucking a cock.
It felt wonderful. Then I started getting that "feeling", I didn't want it to end; I wanted more. "Easy, please," I pleaded.
Melody stopped and lifted her head looking at me. "What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know. I've never done this before," I whispered.
Melody smiling, stood up, pulled off her tank top and slipped off her panties. I could see that the gusset of her panties was dark with wetness. She crawled onto my bed, pulled off my sleep shirt and helped me scoot back onto the bed, laying me down with my legs wide apart.
My Mother had prepared me as best she could. The summer before leaving for Wellesley, she introduced me to erotic and pornographic videos on the Internet. With her help, I learned to differentiate between them. The pornographic ones were just about sex, "you do me, I'll do you." The erotic ones were about "relationships". In them, it was readily apparent that the girls had feelings for one another, not necessarily love but appreciation, friendship and respect. She sat with me as we watched them. She would point out "good" and "better". She answered all of my questions forthrightly. It made me more curious. And now, here I was on the verge of satisfying my curiosity.
Melody positioned herself between my spayed legs and began to lick my clit. She sucked it. To her, it was a cock. She didn't lick my vulva or play with my vagina. After a while, she sat up, brought my feet together and straddled my hips. She began dragging her clit up, against mine. It felt good. As I watched her doing it, I became more aroused than I had ever been. My orgasm was monumental.
I became her "fuck buddy." Melody was not bi-sexual. She only dated boys. Regularly, when she came home after a date she would climb into bed with me. As she related making out with her date, she would play with my clit until she would straddle me and rub herself against my clit. I was learning how to pace myself so that we would orgasm together. Afterwards, she would move over to her own bed. She did no more to me. She asked nothing of me other than to let her "get off" using me.
