Nora's story -- Ch. 1
By Emily Cantrell
as told to her by Nora Oldhouse
They say that if you are not a woman and haven't given birth, you can never understand the changes in the body as childbirth unfolds. I believe that is really true.
A greater truth may be that only a woman who has lusted after other women can know what that feels like. To feel your vagina moisten as you look with sex starved eyes upon beauties such as Catherine Zeta-Jones or Hillary Duff or the little girl down the street.
I've never given birth and don't know what that feels like. I have lusted after many, many women and know well what that particular pang feels like. It is the sweetest, most loving, most sexy feeling in the universe.
For to have such feelings and to share them with the world is to know and suffer the ridicule and embarrassment of being known as a muff diver, lesbo, queer, pervert, rug muncher and lesbian. Yes, that's what I am: a lesbian. And proud of it today; and accepting. Not like I was years ago. No, not at all.
First, let me introduce myself. My name is Nora Oldhouse and I'm 25 years old. I am so pleased that Emily Cantrell has agreed to help me with my story. I serve her as I've served so many other women. I am a mousy brunette (the reason for the use of the term mousy will become clearer as my story unfolds) with a medium build, not too fat nor too thin. I live in the San Fernando Valley and have my entire life.
My feelings about and longings for viewing and touching women began 13 years ago at the tender and vulnerable age of 12. It was then that I first realized I was different than the other girls who lived in my neighborhood. They were all interested in talking about boys and who they were "dating", even though none of them ever went out on dates at all. "Dating" meant they had a special place in their heart, or physique, for a certain boy. A special feeling that might or might not be returned by the object of their affection.
But I had none of those feelings, I just wasn't interested in boys and I was awake many nights trying to figure it out. I was much more interested in looking at women and girls and wondering how it would be to touch them, view them and be intimate with them. And, truth to tell, it didn't take long for me to figure out that I was really different than the other girls who lived near me. I was, I knew, a lesbian, a female who longed for female contact. And it frightened me. At that age, there is no one to turn to so that it can be explained, to tell you that your feelings don't make you crazy, just different.
So, I stumbled along, the Internet my only mentor in this regard. And it's pretty easy to learn a lot about homosexuality on the Internet, but I never took any really bold steps like joining chat rooms or Internet support groups, I just read a lot and looked at a lot of pictures. One thing about pictures, I certainly learned the kind of women who turned me on the most -- they were the long, willowy ones with striking legs, prominent butts, nice tits and pretty faces. Blondes were certainly my favorites as well.
Either through bad luck or ineptness, however, an opportunity to act on my impulses never presented itself. My parents were completely oblivious to my plight and interests. So, I fumbled my way through the teenage dating years, and had the regular run of boys trying to "cop a feel". They all ended up frustrated and I got to be known as the ice queen. I was no better in my relationships with girls, I just spent those teen years as a lonely, but not homely, young woman.
Finally, in my senior year, I signed up as the equipment manager for the girls' basketball team. I just answered a flyer that had been posted on one of the high school campus bulletin boards and I was accepted. It was great for me. I finally belonged somewhere in high school and I worked so hard at it that the coaches and players all felt I really added something to the team, making sure that even with our limited budget we had the best equipment possible. I got to travel with the team and became "sort of" friends with all the players and their families. But my greatest passion was for the cheerleaders I got to watch during the games. So many of them were the girls of my dreams, long, willowy blondes, very athletic and very cute. I spent many an afternoon and evening fantasizing about them. Again, I never got up enough courage to even speak with one of them.
Toward the end of the basketball season, we were headed home on a school bus after a game and what would prove to be a fateful meeting occurred. We had played a game in San Diego and on the long bus ride home, most of the players, cheerleaders and others were sleeping. Not me, I was wide awake, stimulated mostly by the teenage smells of young girls, knowing that I wanted to be more directly involved with those smells, but satisfied for the moment just to have them stimulating my nostrils. As I surveyed the bus, my eyes landed on a young cheerleader from the freshman squad. Normally, that squad did not travel with us but they were on this trip to get some practice in with the varsity cheerleaders.
This little blonde was a well-stacked cutie and she was sitting a row behind me with her charms clearly on display. Perhaps because there were no boys on the bus she was sitting splay legged, clearly showing off the insides of her thighs all the way up to her pink panties. I took a quick peek and then turned my head back but she was listening to an Ipod and was oblivious to my gaze. I looked back again and began to become extremely aroused thinking of how nasty it would be to be crouched between her golden legs, sniffing her crotch directly instead of the indirect aromas I was picking up that were mixed up with all other smells on the bus.
I allowed my gaze to linger, noticing details I had not previously seen, especially the golden hairs on the top of her thighs that I simply and, inexplicably to me, longed to run my tongue over. By now, I had given up all pretense of not looking and my eyes were non-stop focused on her crotch, where her essence lived. Even though it was not clearly on display, I was locked on the view. I didn't notice it but she was slowly shifting in her seat and adjusting her underclothes until . . . she was suddenly displaying a very erotic-looking camel toe to my unwavering gaze. The sudden appearance of the camel toe through her panties caused me to look up and she was looking directly at me, clearly understanding what I was looking at and feeding my already out of control hunger for feminine crotch. Our eyes locked now and I felt certain she was smirking at me, telling me through facial language just what she thought of my perverted lust for her body. She then scooted her crotch forward, giving me an even better view of her camel toe, but I blushed furiously and turned my head back to the front of the bus. My face was on fire with my shame and embarrassment and I just kept my eyes looking straight ahead. I couldn't wait to get off the bus and I rushed out once we stopped, but the young cheerleader was right behind me and she lightly punched me in the back as we both exited the bus.
"Don't worry girl, your secret is safe with me, now let's go get a soda," she breathed in my ear. I began to relax with those words, but was surprised how sexy I found her peppermint-scented breath which wafted toward my nostrils. I didn't say another word and hoped that she would be good to hers. And that was how I became her friend.
And what a great friendship it was. We became inseparable. Amazingly, sex simply never came up. Not that it wasn't on my mind every minute I was with her. Whether it was looking at her beautiful face and imagining what it would be like to kiss it or when she bent over and I saw her gorgeous legs and butt from the rear, I was constantly aware of her extreme sexual allure, but, outwardly at least, we were simply friends.
She was just the best friend ever. Lively, engaging, a great conversationalist (however, I would have to say most of the conversation was about her) and it was the fulfilling of a lifelong dream to have such a wonderful friend. She was wonderful at sharing her thoughts and I only hoped that someday she would share her sexual favors as well.
I began to spend ever more time at her house, even though some people, my mother included, thought it odd that an 18-year-old woman was "best friends" with a 15-year-old girl. Every day after school, I was over at her house. It was simply more convenient to be at her house and her mother was "never" home. In fact, throughout our months of friendship, I never did meet her mom. Even though it was a great friendship, it wasn't exactly a two-way relationship. In fact, I began to become quite a "go-fer" for young Madison Wells. It started innocently enough. She would ask me to pick up something -- a gallon of milk or some toilet paper -- from the grocery store. Then it moved into doing her chores. She told me it would be great if I could make her bed or clean the kitchen while she did her homework. Later, after I was doing her homework in addition to cleaning the house for her, she chalked it up to "allowing her to get her beauty rest." And who was I to deny that she was beautiful and obviously needed "beauty rest." Soon our friendship became completely one-sided with me doing everything for her from her laundry to carrying her books home from school.
But I didn't mind, she was a friend, my first real friend in life and I was determined to keep that friendship alive and burning. But the sex just never came up.
I had been slated to attend the University of Nebraska on a full-ride scholarship, but I changed those plans to attend the nearby community college so that my friendship with Madison could continue unabated.
As I began my first classes in college, I realized that I was no longer able to be around her as much so I adjusted my classes so that I could drive her to school and then pick up her at the end of the day.
Finally, in my third month at the community college, when I was spending a weekend night with her (her mother was mysteriously still not around), Madison uttered the words that would begin to seal my fate as a pussy hound.
"Nora," she began confidently, "you know all you ever had to do was ask for it."
I knew immediately what she meant and so I asked.
"May I?".
"Can't you ask better than that?".
"Please, may I?"
"May you what sweetie?"
"Please may I make love to your pussy?"
There, the words were out and my body and mind were enflamed with passion, thinking that I might finally get to taste my love. To fulfill my dreams of pussy worship.
Madison wasted little time in preparing the goodies for my inspection. She simply stood up in her cheerleader outfit, shimmied her panties down her legs and laid back with her two lower limbs splayed wide, offering the best possible view of her private area.
I couldn't move and she didn't. We both were motionless in our respective roles, me as the supplicant and Madison as the beauty to be ogled.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no longer than 45 seconds, I sank to my knees to begin my very first pussy worship session. Like the pussy pig that I was becoming, once between her legs I plunged my face forward and prepared to taste divinity.
Just before my lips locked on her nether lips, Madison grabbed my hair and stopped my downward facial plunge just inches from its goal of pussy worship.
"Before you just plunge in Nora, there are some things you need to know."
What she was talking about I couldn't imagine, there only inches from my mouth were the pussy lips I longed to worship and adore. Then she started talking, talking to me about who I was and what I would become.
"Now Nora, the first thing you need to know is that you aren't as good as me." She said it casually, but I could tell she meant it. "Sure you can be my friend and I like you as a friend, but sexually, I'm far superior to you."
"The reasons you aren't as good as me are that I'm more beautiful than you are, prettier, I should say; I have a much better body than yours although you aren't a slouch in that department, it's just that my body is superior; and you're a spastic while I'm a well-coordinated cheerleader that people love to look at." Where she was going with this I wasn't sure, but I sure knew that I wanted that pussy, that bald and beautiful pussy, very, very badly. Her words hurt but I could feel a tingling in my pussy.
Madison continued and I began to understand what she was saying and why; she wanted me to know that I was to be a servant girl with her, nothing more. I could still be her friend, but sexually I was there only for her pleasure.
"And, finally, you are not as good as I am because you lust after this pussy and you will soon be lusting after the pussies of all beautiful women, you will become a cunt slut Nora, it's your destiny. On the other hand, I don't care about your pussy at all, it's of no interest nor concern to me and that's what makes me better because I don't lust after your pussy. The only pleasure I will provide to your pussy is through your mouth being attached to my genitalia, indirect pleasure at best but I know it will be very intense for you."
As she held my head by the hair, hovering just over her pussy, she asked me if I had ever eaten a cunt before. I confessed that I hadn't, but told her I was eager to do so. Then she asked another question.
"Have you ever given or had a sexual kiss before?"
I again confessed that I had not.
"Oh, I just love it, your first kiss is going to be with the mouth formed by my pussy lips, how kewl."
She had obscenely spread her legs and her most private parts were wide open to me. As nasty a site as one could ever hope to see.
As she held my head, she told me to smell her essence.
"Eau de cunt, you will learn to love that as well."
"You may even come think you love me, but what you really love is the cunt of a beautiful female and you will love many of those in your life. Eaters such as yourself live for cunt."
"So go ahead and eat your first."
The first touch of my lips on her cunt were divine and I almost orgasmed, but I held off, unwittingly acknowledging that I could do a better job of servicing her if I remained in a high state of sexual arousal.
The flesh of her nether regions further inflamed my already raging libido and kissing that young girl's pussy was a flesh feast, tasting wonderful and like the best food I had ever eaten in my life.
I drew back for a quick moment from her pussy and looked carefully at the sexual organ that had captured my love and was about to devour my face. The entire vulva, shaved and erotic looking, was puffy and engorged with blood and sexual excitement. I loved it!!! It was beautiful and deserving of my ardor, I just wasn't sure I was worthy of worshipping it.
But I was determined to try.
My face settled back down into her lovely crotch and she gazed down at me as my face settled into its life's purpose, eating pussy.
At first, I fumbled with my tongue wildly and obscenely running up and down between her labia, noticing how she was juicing up and beginning to taste her female cream and loving how it ran down my throat. As I became more familiar with her pussy and how it reacted to my tongue's work, I settled on different areas, taking time to suck each lip into my mouth and, at the same time, watching her inner pink slowly expose itself to my worshipful gaze. Eventually, her clitoris rose magnificently from its protective sheath and beckoned my mouth Almost as a supplicant approaching an altar, my lips reverentially came closer to her beautiful and large clitoris. Once my lips were attached, I doubted that I could ever remove them. They were locked on the fruit of my labors and I could not stand the idea of letting her love bud go.
It put me in heaven to have her sexual center in my mouth, safe and sound in its rightful place and being worshipped as it should be. At that moment, I could have died and been happy with my entire life. I began to realize that if my head was not between a woman's legs, I simply could not be fulfilled, I would not be happy any other way.
For more than 15 minutes I worked over that knob and loved it as she came to a shuddering climax.
As she came down from her orgasm induced by my sucking and nursing lips, I nuzzled the sensitive flesh, realizing that although her sex had been sated for the moment, mine was still at fever pitch and she was good to her word and offered no reciprocity. Her hand stroked my head briefly and then she stood up and began talking as though we had not just engaged in a heated coupling. I was and am still amazed at how she could change from a sexual minx to my best friend in such a quick fashion.
Then, suddenly, she uttered the words that would open up my next vista.
"My mother is going to love those lips."
????
Author's note: I believe that there is no love as great as that of a woman for pussy. No such story should be lost to the world. Over the years, I've been fortunate to have been serviced by a number of such pussy worshippers and I intend to preserve as many of their stories as possible. Emily