If you are under 18, or you find stories depicting lesbian love offensive, leave. All rights reserved except as set forth in the submission guidelines of nifty.org.
This story depicts a loving scene between two women. It is part of a larger, autobiographical work I call "Amherst Drive." It is written more for the enjoyment of other lesbians who understand the more tender, emotional side of F/F sex. If you are looking for more male-oriented erotica, i.e., the more typical erotica found on this site which focuses more on the sex than the emotion, it can be found in other areas of this site, including my own work "School Play," found in the Adult-Youth section. I am not saying the girls don't like that too, but it is written more for the guys than the gals.
To my fans, let me know what you think of this. It is my more serious work.
Cheryl Taggert
My Lover, My Self By Cheryl Taggert
I lay in bed last night, thinking of you. The kisses that seemed to melt like butter on a warm stove still a memory, the intimacy borne of our love palpable in the air. Looking over in the dark, I could see the silhouette of your beautiful face that shone in the pale moonlight. And I thanked the moon for its illuminating caresses.
My love seemed to want to burst from within my heart, causing a tightness that lingered in my chest. The tightness finally began to flow from my body through my eyes, the tears of joy and complete love overflowing my soul, spilling over the eyelids you love to kiss. My vision blurs, but you are still visible in the moon's glow.
I notice the mound of your breast has freed itself from the sheet's covering. It peers into the darkness, it seems, seeking my lips. The nipple caps the soft yet firm flesh. The coolness of the night kisses it, urging it into mild stiffness as it puckers to return the night's kiss. I feel unbidden jealousy of the night air as it coaxes a response from your lovely body.
I gently move toward you, determined to reclaim what is mine.
I watch the rise and fall of your lovely breast and wonder if your dreams are about me. I imagine myself crawling into your body, knowing what you know in your dreams, feeling what you feel.
With a stark suddenness, I unexpectedly breathe in your scents--perspiration and female sex mixed with Opium perfume and your Herbal Essence shampoo. The aroma fills me with longing, and I feel the excitement begin deep in my loins. My clitoris awakens from a brief slumber, hardening instantly, seeming to ignore the orgasm you brought me earlier tonight.
Still breathing your fragrance deeply into myself, I shift closer. I can feel your warmth wafting from you; I imagine the center of that heat and long to devour its various flavors. My own heat and moisture flows from me with an urgency that overwhelms me. I reach down to my own fur-covered softness, feeling the wetness, surprised at the quantity of fluid that has gathered there to lubricate my most intimate areas. I hold the wet fingers to my nostrils and my own scents mix with yours, bringing the pounding in my heart to a steady beat against my ribs. Placing the drenched fingers into my mouth, I savor the appetizer while imagining the main course.
I move to you and feel your breath tickle my cheek. You breathe deeply in sleep, and I imagine your brain noticing my scent, triggering a dream of me. I stare into your closed eyes that dart behind your eyelids. It seems the eye movements of dreams are longing to tell me what is happening in your slumber. I attempt to read their signals, and I imagine you are kissing me in your night world.
Finally, I can take it no more. My longing for you envelopes me entirely as I bend closer and place my lips gently on your cheek. You are a deep sleeper, and I silently apologize for the waking that will come, but I know you will think it is worth waking for. I kiss you softly on the lips, my tongue darting quickly into the soft opening, caressing just inside the warmth. My mind snaps into the future and I imagine my lips on other softer, moister lips.
You begin to stir and I continue my kiss. Suddenly, you begin returning my attentions. You sigh deeply, wrap your arms around me, press into me. I was right: you don't mind.
My eyes have been open because I want to see you when you open yours. They flutter, open, see me. Then all is dark as we kiss passionately, eyes finally closed to take in the feel of each other's bodies intertwining.
My leg moves between yours as I press my sex into your hip. My own thigh moves into your mound. You press gently upward and I feel the beginning of your wetness against my flesh. Our breasts meet, press together. Our nipples harden, and I feel yours press against my into the soft flesh of my breast.
Our kiss continues, uninterrupted, as we writhe tenderly together, seeking pressures that will increase our excitement. My love for you overwhelms me again, and tears of utter joy spring to my eyes. I wonder what I have done to deserve your love. I can actually feel your love for me emanating from you. It is intoxicating, and I revel in the swelling of my heart. I drink freely of the emotion and am drunk with the nearness of you. I am totally and completely in love. The world doesn't accept our love as unnatural, but I can think of nothing more natural in the world. It is a startling paradox.
Your kiss becomes more insistent. Apparently, I have touched off a need in you, and that thought thrills me as I continue to press myself into you as much as possible without penetrating your skin and becoming one body with you. I imagine again what that would be like, to feel my own touches on your body, to understand your love for me from your perspective, to experience the orgasm that I give you. The thought increases my intoxication.
Our urgency mounts. You finally break the kiss, taking my head in your hands and pushing my face from yours to stare into my eyes. You are communicating wordlessly. I notice that you, too, are crying with the knowledge of the enormity of our love for each other. You don't need to tell me the reason for the tears; I already know. And that knowledge, more than anything, confirms my idea that we are perfect soul mates. We are one, lover and loved.
I move to the nape of your neck, just above the collarbone. I nuzzle and kiss there, knowing how much you love it. I nibble my way to your earlobes. You begin to squirm beneath me.
"Oh, God, Cheryl. I love you so," you whisper to me.
"Not as much as I love you," I reply softly. It's a game we play when we say these most important words. It is appropriate.
"Yes, as much . . . or more," you breathe, fully understanding the rules of the game.
I rise to my hands and knees, looking down at you. We are both naked, in more ways than one. And we accept it. It is what makes our life together so perfect. I notice that your hip glistens with my wetness. At the same time, I feel the coolness of the night kiss the moisture you left behind on my thigh and remember the night air's kiss on your breast earlier when you were sleeping.
Now it was my turn.
"Maybe as much, but never more," I murmur, lying down to suckle the breast that the night air had kissed earlier.
Your nipple swells in my mouth as I pull the titflesh into my mouth. My tongue flicks the areole and tip of the nipple, relishing the feel. You begin to moan softly as you stroke my back. I can feel the bed move as your muscular ass begins to squirm into the mattress. Your passion rises, matching mine.
I open my eyes to see your other hand, the one not on my back, pinching and pulling on your unattended nipple. Your moaning increases, signaling the heightened passion that is working in your loins. While I continue to suck the stiffened nipple, my hand begins its journey down your belly. I bypass the center of your rising lust, moving to the insides of your thighs.
Leaving the nipple behind, my mouth begins to follow the hand's journey. I kiss and tongue the firm flesh of your tummy, stopping to dip my tongue into your navel. Your squirming increases. I breathe in your female scent. My mouth waters in anticipation.
My hand has found the back of your knee. My soft contact with the tender flesh is particularly arousing to you. My fingers play it softly like a sensitive piano. The contact is so soft that I am almost not touching you there at all.
Finally my mouth has arrived at the wetness left behind by my sex on your hip. I lick the sweet-tasting moisture away, replacing it with another wetness. I then move up to the source of your pleasure. The fragrance is strong, matching our passion. I breathe the intoxicating flower and decide I can wait no longer. I feel that you can't either.
My tongue flicks out and touches your swollen clit. It is wet, waiting, insistent. It seems to reach out for the contact.
Lowering my face to you, I cover the opening with my mouth. Your hips rise from the bed to meet the welcome intruder. I can sense your need. Your orgasm's arrival won't take long.
My lips and tongue explore every crevice, finally landing on your urgent clit. You pull insistently on my body, which is perpendicular to yours. You need to be doing the same to me, and I allow the motion to pull me into you.
As your mouth makes contact, my own urgency and passion surprise me. I realize I was unaware of my need, concentrating on yours only.
Soon we are moving against each other's mouths and tongues. Grinding our sex into the other's mouth. Meeting the thrusts of our lover's tongue. It is the definition of perfect bliss.
The passion builds and the cliff that is our mutual orgasm approaches with amazing speed. We moan loudly, filling the room with our sounds of lovemaking. We are nearly there. We hold the other's hips in a love grip. Our mouths try to send our love to the other with each moment of contact, as if we could fill each other with love from our mouths like a gas pump fills a car with gasoline. Our passion is certainly as explosive.
Finally, the moment arrives. Our bodies move to the cresting orgasms as we reach our peaks simultaneously. We are dancing a ballet that we have perfected. Rising, rising, the orgasm builds to a throbbing mass of feeling, both physical and emotional.
Our lovemaking complete, our loving continues. I move up to lie in your arms. We hold each other, savoring the afterglow of our dance. We are contented.
"I love you," I say.
"Not as much as I love you," you reply.
Unsure of the truth, we drift blissfully into a deep sleep.