Whisper

It started when she peeked her head into dorm room, moving the door open slightly. I looked up from my book and smiled. "Katherine."

I liked to whisper her name because screaming it always made me feel slightly dirty.

She pushed the door all the way open, the smooth rounded shape of her hips framed in the doorway. The red silk of the soft robe made her curves more appealing, almost gift-wrapped.

I knew exactly what would be waiting when I untied the bow around her waist: moist pale pink skin with fine dark curls. As soon as she stepped through the door she spun around and closed it. I was still reclining on among my pile of bed pillows, gazing at the orbs of her ass, pantyless beneath the shimmering fabric of the robe. Only when she loosened the pages from my fingers did I realize that I had not set my book down yet. "Distracted weren't you?" she murmured.

I recognized the glow in her eyes, a special sultry glance that means "peel the clothes off me and eat me like a piece of fruit." She is like a fruit, but not the kind of fruit I would peel. I have to just bite right into her flesh, really taste her. I think perhaps she is a peach or maybe a mango.

My arms formed a ring around her waist, hands resting on the upper mounds of her ass. I pulled her tiny lips near mine and parted them with my tongue. I could feel my nipples growing hard at the first contact. She loves to kiss and I am glad she taught me how. I was the first girl she ever kissed, but the boys who came before me must have given her some good lessons, because the pressure of her tongue is perfect against my fuller lips.

Removing my hands from her posterior, I began to slowly unknot the red silk cord that kept her robe near her skin. I had decided that my body needed to take the place of the smooth fabric.

I felt her first moans in my throat as the tips of my fingers covered her breasts in goosebumps. Reluctantly, I moved my mouth from hers to the rounded hollow above her collarbone. This is her special spot, the place on her body she most likes a lover to kiss.

I can smell her pussyjuices as I circle the tip of my tongue down her chest, into her cleavage. The fine trail of hair along her stomach is soft to the touch and I place a hand on the small of her back as it arches. This brings her clit up to meet my tongue as it approaches.

Years of making out in the childhood bedrooms of ex-boyfriends have taught her to be very quiet in her pleasure. I try every night to excite her enough to force her to cry out. I love the way my name sounds when shouted. Tonight I succeed. As my mouth is filled with sweetness, the air rings with my name and the obvious sounds of her enjoyment.

As she ties her robe back on, she tells me, "None of those boys ever made me this loud" I am proud as she continues, "I don't think boys know how to make a woman really come." To prove it, she kisses me again, though my mouth tastes like her. This is all the encouragement I need to shake against her, rocking my hips against hers and calling out her name. This time, a whisper just won't be enough.