The Standard Notice
This is an original work of erotic fiction. Any similarities between the story and reality are coincidental at best. This is an orally-fixated lesbian (f/f) piece, and if for some reason this offends you, well... don't read, silly. _________________________________________________________________
Arrythmia By the Koika (koh-ee-kah)
I could feel my legs parting, more unabashed than I. Only my mind was rattled by Rosa's frightful kiss; my body otherwise rebelled. So liberated was my every part that nothing quaked with the fear or uncertainty that I felt. Instead, each stood their ground, as if they had been touched by a hundred women before Rosa, or at least, by one. But I knew, even in my indecisive mind, that I liked it. I could have died when I felt the bed alone shake from her motion against and, all too suddenly, between my legs, even moreso as I somehow sensed her nearing me. I could feel her breath right off, warm on the drained inners of my thighs, which had been taxed of so much life-drink by my mons. Here were a million sensations, lain out before me just as I was lain out before her... but of them all, it was her hair that broke the rythm of my heart.
My legs, though cooler than any part of me, still somehow sizzled at the cold sweeping, so that each singular strand enthralled me. I feel as if I might still recall each one in turn, though I know this is not true. There were so many; but I felt them each as if I were being rained upon by my own tiny, benevolant cloud. Oh! And how it tickled too - but didn't, like a profound and sensual itch, the kind I hadn't felt since I first touched myself not too many years prior (and every night since.) But not tonight; tonight it was be the sweet, delicate fingers of Rosa tending to me there.
Our foreplay had been long, intimate, and complete. She was finished with making me wait; now she went straight for the gold, as I had done to myself many, many times before. I could feel her thumb and forefinger climbing up just beneath their target, her five knuckles rolling back my inner folds while bursting my outer with fullness. She told me that I looked beautiful, so open - I could only moan in response. What is one to say while their most sensitive muscles are being tied into knots? And more than that, in an instant I could feel her index finger flicking over my clitorus like one might a switch, as if to ignite the already burning furnace she breathed upon. I once thought that only men fixated themselves with that portion alone, but no, Rosa began to do the same. The difference was that she began to make love to the swollen spot, lavishing it where men had ravished, worshipping it until it became the bulk of my being. It was as if the tail of that tiny pearl had extended inside of me like a burrowing worm, writhed its way up into my belly, and metamorphized into one of those little butterflies that were already flapping away at my guts.
I have yet to find much differece between a finger and a tongue, especially when they are equally soft like Rosa's were. But seeing her lean down to lick me was enough to send me into my first - ever - convolsions of climax. From my first writhe, she read my sensation, and acted accordingly throughout. Celebrating her triumph, she suddenly twisted her hand in my nethers and tucked two digits into the seeping passage - at long last - fighting that open faucet for bedding. I arced, heaving so deeply that I could feel the bellies of my breasts peeling away from their perch at my ribcage, quickly enough that the sweat could have sprayed a mist from the slight action, and my throat could have burst with a sudden intake of air.
Now her tongue was at play again, but inside me - unsatisfied by my single orgasm. I had enough sense to be amazed by the idea - orgasming twice for someone of my own sex, when the opposite had, time and time agian, failed. And she went for it with such confidence! Rosa's young face practically masked itself into my flesh, her eyes shutting tighter than a contented kitten. It made being eaten so much more pleasureable to have eyelashes that curl - rather than a male's bushy, clumsy arcs - pressing into my pelvis. Each butterfly kiss recieved an equal gesture from the roused hive of my stomach.
Slowly, as that tongue continued to clash with my canals, my heart began to steady once again. The arrythmia became an even worship to the beats of her thrusts and parries, her twists and her turns. I realized, pressing some fingers into my slight cleavage, that the stomach butterflies had now migrated to the sactity of my happy heart. She had done it; Rosa had prepared shockwaves between my thighs, and had fired them as arrows between my wide-open arms. Just then I knew that my experiment was over. Or at least, it had become much more than an experiment. Because I now know that no man can ever please me from my sex to my heart with only their fingertips... none like soft, all-knowing Rosa. If there can be one decisive moment in a person's life, one feeling that answers the questions, and questions all written answers, well... then this was it. Even as I felt a reimburstment of blood into my thighs, an untying in my knotted muscles and nerves, all uncertainty was removed, sucked out of me by her vampiric tongue like so much tainted blood. And I came for my second time.