30 comments/ 71549 views/ 51 favorites All Cats are Grey By: Lisa Summers PART ONE My life had ceased to have much by way of meaning. My love of ten years, Melissa Blake, had died accidentally two years before in 1999. Her death at age 38, left me bereft and mourning her absence. After the actual shock of her passing subsided, I gradually began seeing the world through a cracked prism. There was no longer any sunshine in my life, no music in the air, no sweet fragrance caressing my nostrils. Only a gray, blah, dull nothing. Every day alive was just an opportunity for more nothingness and depression, one more day missing Melissa. The first 28 years of my life had been heavenly, the last 2, closer to hell. It was a cold month, that May of 2001, one made colder by missing her warmth, and wit, and beauty. That was the day when I got the news about Melissa's will, and the second half of my real life began. The news for this day delivered itself to our apartment in Brooklyn, in a cream-colored envelope embossed with the name of some fancy law firm. The letter lurking inside got off to the usual lurching Dear Ms. Wiseman.... start, but it ended up careening drunkenly around a corner I certainly didn't expect. It invited me to the offices of Michaels and Somerset, Attorneys at Law in two days, for the reading of Melissa's will. Well, that just started me crying again, and I sat on our shared sofa, sobbing, tears running down my face. At age 30, I felt as though my life were over, along with Melissa's. We'd spent 10 deliriously happy years together, as lovers and partners, ever since I'd been a freshman at Cornell, and she, an assistant librarian in the graduate library at school. At the reading, I got a sense of the life Melissa had led as a child. There was no one else there from her family. She'd been an only child, a late surprise to her elderly parents, and they had passed on by this time. But the family's lawyers were upper crust, catering to the wishes of the very rich, and their offices showed it. Leather, mahogany, and brocade everywhere, the place smelled like other people's money. The lawyer, a pretty starched sort, greeted me, then droned on for a while explaining the terms of her will. A will that seemed kind of peculiar to me. ... Blake Foundation, as a condition of Melissa Blake's Last Will and Testament, bequeaths to you, for your use as your sole domicile, her family residence at McKenzie Estate. Should you fulfill the further terms of this Will within one year, the residence, and all services required for its upkeep, will be made available to you for the rest of your life at no charge. In order to meet the requirements of this Will, and retain tenancy rights, you will have to complete the following... Since I can tell you a lot faster than that over-priced lawyer Williamson could tell it, let me just sum it up. I had to move into, and live in her family's mansion, named "The McKenzie Estate," in upstate New York immediately, and live in it for at least one full year, without leaving the grounds even once during that time. It sounded to me like a strange gift, given to me by someone who I'd loved desperately, and who had loved me, but who was dead and gone now. I was pleased by the thought of her remembering me, though, and since I was able to move my writing work there, as well as being close to getting thrown out of our apartment, and the digs were nice, well... And so I showed up at McKenzie Estate on June17th, Year of Our Lord 2001. Melissa and I had visited it at the beginning of our marriage, which was never formal, sometimes stormy, but always peculiarly intense. Melissa had always treated me like a long-lost lover, even from the beginning of our relationship, and I had never quite understood that, though I loved her love for me, and returned it fully. The place matched what I remembered of it twelve years before, in 1989, though there were undoubtedly fewer Blakes running around now. Her parents had both died of old age five years before, and within a week of each other. That was rather romantic, I thought. That conceit came back to haunt me, when I endured the loss of my Melissa. The estate was probably 100 acres surrounding a big, no, HUGE, stone mansion. 12 bedrooms, 15 bathrooms (I could never figure out that 'more bathrooms than bedrooms' thing - are rich people worried about the bathroom being occupied when they have to pee?) Numerous weeping willow trees were rooted knee-deep in an ocean of close-cropped grass surrounding the mansion, several islands of granite boulders perched in a placid emerald sea of grass, that same smooth lawn tucking itself under the gentle waves of an attached lake. In the far distance, serving as a frame for the picture, were vast forests of old growth oak trees. All in all, a picture out of Great Baronial Homes of England , upstate New York edition. Williamson, the starched barrister standing at the door, handed over the keys, and gestured vaguely at the hired help who'd keep the place up whether I lived there for the next year, or whether I somehow ended up floating in that mirror-finish lake in a fit of depression. He told me to call him if I had any questions, and said that he would see me in one year, reminding me that I must not leave the grounds until then. "Laura, good luck," he said, a surprisingly friendly sentiment, though still delivered in that broom-up-the-ass way of his. I had been reminded, painfully, at our first meeting, of how Melissa had died two years previous. Like all tragic deaths, it was needless and mindless, simply an unfortunate meeting of an innocent woman pedestrian with a drunk driver. Melissa had rewritten her will six months before her death, to insert me as sole beneficiary, a move that flattered me, but I didn't think that either she or I were mansion types. We'd not wanted to move into the mansion when she inherited it, yet here she had left it to me, and wanted me to live in it now. The attorney showed a second unexpected spark of life when he said, "Melissa really loved you, Laura. Don't let her down." His words puzzled me. How would it be possible to let her down now? I nervously opened the massive, but delicately wrought oaken doors, and entered the place. I started looking around and checking the lay of the land for the next year. There was only one kitchen, fortunately, so I knew where I could go to keep my 110 pound, 5'3 30-year old body fueled up. After making myself a pot of almond herbal tea, I made my way around both the inside of the structure, and a small portion of the outside nearest to it. I found myself attracted to a shaded bower, with clematis vines growing up trellises, the large purple blossoms so lovely, and some of the smaller-blossomed flowers quite fragrant as well as attractive. The small arbor centered on a small bench for two - a place for lovers. I wondered if that house had ever seen any lovers in the last twenty years. From what little I knew of her family, lovers of any kind, at least under 75 or so, seemed a remote possibility. On our initial visit, Melissa and I had lingered in the bower, and her lips had caressed mine softly and warmly, her fingers had aroused me through my clothing, the fragrance of rich flowers filling my senses, the only real memory I had of our visit. Melissa and I had met at a gay mixer on campus at Cornell, twelve years before, in 1989. Melissa was twenty-eight and a librarian, new to the campus, having spent some long amount of time here at her ancestral home on unexplained business she apparently could not leave, and I was an eighteen year old sophomore coed majoring in English, who had gone to listen to the music at the mixer. I was too repressed to actually admit that I might be attracted to the other girls there too, and too shy to look anyone in the eyes. As I sat on the grey stone steps outside the Student Union, the breeze pushing richly colored maple leaves along the pavement beside me, I could hear the bass line of "She Drives Me Crazy" through the doors, and I wondered if I'd ever work up the courage to actually enter. While I was standing outside the doors watching the girls come and go, Melissa walked up to me, smiled and quietly asked me if I were going in. I looked up at her when she spoke, and saw an attractive brunette with a moderately short, layered haircut, wearing a cute red plaid wool vest and skirt combination, with a cream colored blouse underneath, and a pretty gold locket, with a clear precious stone set in its center. Her smile seemed dazzling to me, and her shape was nicely rounded, her breasts full, much larger than mine. With her glasses on though, she looked every bit the librarian, although an attractive, smiling one. Come to think of it, she WAS speaking in a whisper, at least at first. Her eyes were a startling shade of blue, so very bright and clear. I suddenly felt like a complete slob, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, though in my defense it WAS a Cornell sweatshirt, and I HAD brushed my long dark blonde hair. Wearing sneakers, at 5' 3 I felt tiny next to her 5' 9 . I hemmed and hawed, as though I were afraid that I would be ravished if it were discovered that I liked music, and - the impossible possibility - other girls. As it turned out, Melissa was quite nice enough and she later did end up ravishing me, though with my consent and to our mutual pleasure. We did both go inside to the dance, corny autumn-motif decorations all around us on the walls. We talked for a long time, and drank beer, and she told me that she had recently lost her lover, but that she was trying to get back into the social scene. I slowly found myself looking at Melissa as though she were completely different from any other woman I had ever met. I later discovered that she was. She treated me as though we'd known each other nearly forever, and were just picking up some threads from the tapestry of our relationship that had come loose. I never did work up the courage to dance with her there. I finally said that I had to leave, telling her that I had to study, and she said that she had an early morning at work the next day. In reality, I just didn't know how to end the evening the way I wanted it to end. I wasn't even sure how I wanted it to end, so I was desperately trying to continue it until, I don't know, maybe lightning would strike. Or something. So I asked her if I could walk with her some of the way, as my dorm and her apartment were in the same general area. "I'd love it," she said. We walked along a graveled campus path, orange and red and yellow chrysanthemums lining the way, and reaching a section of deep shade where the oaks blotted out the street light, we paused. I found myself reaching up, my hand on her neck, and kissing her, my lips trembling. She didn't kiss back, but neither did she pull away. I pulled away, though, after a few seconds, and tried to look into her blue eyes, which were now deep pools of indigo in the shadow. Her dark brown hair looked black, and she towered over my slight frame at her 5' 9 . "Oh, I'm so sorry, Melissa. I'm not forward, and I hope you don't think I am, and I'm sorry, I was wro- . With that Melissa planted her full lips on mine and stroked the back of my head gently, the tips of her fingernails on my scalp sending shivers through me. She pulled back, grinned and said, Be quiet, Laura, and just go with the flow." I looked at her as though I had been pole-axed, and said, simply, Okay. She took me by the hand and led me to her apartment, a first floor studio, which was just off campus. As we got inside the door, Melissa pulled up my sweatshirt over my head, and gently lay it on a chair, my smallish bra-covered breasts nonetheless standing out proudly, my long hair cascading around my shoulders prettily. Then she unbuttoned my jeans, slipping them down my thighs, and had me step out of them, and placed them neatly next to the sweatshirt, as I adjusted my thin cotton panties nervously around my butt cheeks. I looked at her, and she looked so beautiful to me. "Now young lady, you get in that bed, right over there, and sleep it off. I'll see you in the morning," she said. I staggered over to the bed in my bra and panties, and rapidly fell asleep, halfway there when my head hit the pillow. The next morning when I woke up, I was extremely impressed, and somewhat disappointed, that she hadn't taken advantage of me. But in some way, it didn't feel as though she were being considerate, but rather just patient. I spent every day for the next week after that with her, when I wasn't in classes or she wasn't at work. We didn't re-create that kiss during this time, nor did I get any closer to her bed, though. It was a full week before I worked up the courage to translate my affectionate feelings for Melissa into more physical terms. I was over at her apartment as usual. Melissa was scrubbing out the bathtub, when I snuck up on her, overcome by a sudden wave of emotion. I hugged her, even as she leaned into the tub, nearly knocking us both in. "Whoa " she said, grinning. "What brought that on?" She pulled us off the edge of the tub, and we stood up. She nonchalantly touched my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I, I just felt this burst of warmth right here," I said, pointing to my heart. "There?" Melissa said, pointing to the same spot, the tip of her finger resting lightly on my young breast. I thought my heart would explode. "Yes," I whispered. "But deeper," and I took my hand and lightly pressed her finger into my breast. My heart was beating about a thousand times a minute. Melissa left her finger on me, and then it was joined by her other fingers. "Your heart's beating madly," she said, softly. "Does it hurt?" A wry smile on her face. "Yes, kind of," I said. "It's like an ache, kind of." Melissa brought her other hand to my face, and gently brushed away the hair that was hanging over my eye. "Does that help?" she asked. I pressed my cheek into her warm, soft hand. "Kind of," I said shyly. "Maybe if you touched me a little more in those places, maybe the ache would go away." I looked into her blue eyes, my own sight blurring as my eyes suddenly teared up. Melissa leaned in and kissed my eyelids. "You're crying," she said. "I don't know why," I said, the tears increasing until I could feel them running down my cheeks. Melissa kissed me again, on my cheeks, tasting my salty tears. And again, on my eyelids once again, then on the tip of my nose, and then on my lips. I voiced a loud moan, and threw my arms around her neck, holding her against me, wanting to feel those full, soft lips, tasting inexplicably of strawberries, on me, forever and ever. The kiss was so short-lived. But then I would have thought that a year-long kiss wasn't enough either. "Do you trust me?" Melissa whispered into my ear, her sweet breath tickling me there, her dark hair mixing with my lighter hair momentarily. I didn't say anything, only nodding my head into her shoulder. "I want to please you, Laura. I want to make you happier than you've ever been, for the rest of your life. Do you want that too? Do you want me to make you happy?" Her eyes were on me now, trying to read my heart. "Oh, you already do " I exclaimed, my tears doubling in volume. "It's just, it's just...I don't know how to make YOU happy " I said, getting closer to the source of my emotions. It was there, in the middle of learning to think more of Melissa's needs, that I suddenly became conscious of the closeness of her body to mine. I mean, really aware. Melissa's full, warm and soft breasts were pressing into my upper chest through her flannel shirt, and I became acutely conscious that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples stiff and large, poking deliciously into me. I leaned down and rested my head against her generous breasts, feeling more closely her feminine warmth and smelling her body's fragrance, even through the residual aroma of 'Bon Ami' cleanser on her hands. "Your heart's beating fast, too," I said, as my ear rested against her fullness. "Maybe we have something, one of those bugs that goes around on campuses. Maybe we should check each other," I ventured, shyly. "Yes, I suppose you're right," Melissa said. "And it would save time, if we turn out to 'have something,' to already be in bed, don't you think?" "Oh yes, please," I said, looking up at Melissa as I smiled, the expression on her face quite serious. We walked, hand in hand to her full-sized bed, and sat on the edge next to each other. I was at a loss as to exactly what to do, but to my relief, Melissa took the lead. "Now, lay down here, and I'll lay next to you, and we can begin our examinations," she said. For quite a while no more directions were needed. I suppose that shows that much medical knowledge is actually instinctive. Or not. Melissa unbuttoned my pink-checked cotton blouse so slowly, I thought it would take forever, and easily separated the two sides, exposing my small bra-covered breasts to her gaze. Her eyes were intent on me, it seemed as though she could never get enough of looking at me, clothed or unclothed, throughout our time together. I rolled over on my back, my breasts moving up and down rapidly with my breathing, as I felt a pain, a pain of excitement and anticipation. A most pleasant pain it was. Melissa leaned down, and softly kissed the small swell of my breasts, already rosy with a blush of passion, her warm breath tickling me there, her moist lips blessing me there. I moaned as I felt her mouth linger on me, and I even felt the unexpected touch of her tongue on my skin, lightly licking me on the faintly freckled tops of my breasts just barely peeking over the white fabric of my bra. My hands went to the back of her neck, caressing her there in small re-payment of the gentle pleasure she was bringing me. She moaned faintly, a slight vibration into my breast, and paid equal attention to my other breast. She caressed and kissed me there, and, feeling another surge of emotion, I guided her over to me so that her mouth left off kissing my breast, and brought it back to my own mouth again. This time, her lips melted into mine, figuratively of course, but I would have sworn that we became one person with that joining. I felt her tongue wiggling through as her lips parted. Mine followed suit, and soon her warm, wet tongue was dancing and playing with mine, as well as everywhere else in my mouth. I had been french-kissed by boys before, but Melissa's kisses were for my pleasure, unlike the boys, who had only been looking to stimulate themselves. I felt unexpected streams of joy flowing from my mouth, tongue and lips to my crotch, tingling me down there and causing a tremendous itching sensation. My thighs squeezed together anxiously, trying to make the feeling, I don't know, go away? Get stronger? I was unsure, and Melissa sensed my confusion. "What are you afraid of?" Melissa asked, unexpectedly. "Umm, I don't know," I said, not sure what she was getting at, and wanting her to keep kissing me. I couldn't look in her deeply beautiful eyes now. "You must be afraid of something. You're trembling," Melissa said, her face serious. "Are you afraid of me?" "I, I don't think so, you make me feel good," I said. "Please kiss me again." "Not until you face your demon, sweetie," Melissa said. "Are you afraid of kissing a woman?" I paused to think about that. "I was," I admitted. "But now I'm not." "Are you afraid to be naked with me? Would you like to be naked with me?" "Yes, I think I am. And yes, I would," I said. "Why are you afraid of that?" she asked. "I don't know. Because I don't know what will happen?" I ventured. "Do you think that I would do anything bad to you?" Melissa asked. "Oh no, I trust you. You wouldn't do anything to hurt me," I said confidently. "Then it must be you that you don't trust," Melissa said flatly. All Cats are Grey I thought about her words, and realized that she was right. I didn't know what being naked, in a bed, with another woman meant about me. And I had been afraid to think logically about it, so I found myself playing around the edges of what it meant, but never stepping over the threshold of truth. "I guess you're right. I've been afraid of what it means about me," I said. "And what does it mean about you?" Melissa asked gently. "It would mean that I wanted to be naked with a woman." "And?" "And, have her make love to me. Make love to her." "And?" "And admit that that's what I want. That I WANT to make love to a woman. That I WANT to be a lesbian." "And DO you want to be a lesbian, Laura?" "Umm, no more than I WANT to be a girl, or an American, or live on Earth. It just is, I think," I said, a little more strongly than anything else I'd said to date. "ARE you a lesbian, Laura?" Melissa asked, looking into my eyes, her own soul nakedly revealed to me in the tremulous tone of her voice, the lines furrowing her forehead, the tension in the way her hands held against my arms, even in the faint aroma of uncertainty I thought I smelled underneath her fragrance. "I don't know - yet, Melissa," I said, my voice confident now. "I want to find out, with your help, if I'm a lesbian. If I want to make love to a woman, and have her return my love, and..." I smiled a smile of my newly earned freedom, a smile of emancipation from doubt and fear. "...if I will enjoy fucking, and being fucked by, the most beautiful woman on Earth," I continued, a small grin showing on my face. "Fuck me, Melissa," I said. With a small, happy cry she leaped on me, her mouth voraciously kissing my compliant lips now, my tongue fully returning her passion. Melissa pushed my bra up off my breasts, and her gentle mouth made love to me there. Her lips encircled my small pink nipples, sucking and squeezing them, small pains shooting through my nipples to my pussy, along the way miraculously turning into sensations of pleasure. Her strong hands caressed the fullness and heat of my breasts, while she suckled on me, and I came, for the first time, my clitoris exploding in small fireworks, my pelvis melting with pleasure. I moaned into Melissa's hair, and inhaled the sweet smell of her scalp, accented with a faint smell of earthy sweat. My hands roamed aimlessly over her flannel-covered back, as she was still wearing the old, ratty flannel shirt from her cleaning chores. "Get your fucking clothes off " I bellowed, and Melissa looked up, startled. "Yes ma'am," she said, grinning, and picking herself up off me. She began stripping for me, looking me directly in the eyes the whole time, and my eyes went back and forth from her eyes to the parts of her body she was revealing, over and over. I don't know which turned me on more - the hot, smoky sex I could see in her eyes, her lust for me plain, or her naked body, spectacular, mainly because it was Melissa's naked body, and it was in front of me. She quickly, very quickly, unbuttoned the shirt. Since it was missing two buttons that was made much easier, and she pulled it unashamedly off her body, her full, womanly breasts sagging slightly, but the most beautiful breasts I'd ever seen, or ever would see. Her nipples were brown, almost a chocolate brown, with wide areolae, and I began to imagine how her thick but short nipples would feel in my mouth. She then unbuttoned her faded old jeans, covered with miscellaneous green paint spots from some ages-old painting task, and they slipped down off her hips to the floor. She stepped out of them, her slim, naked legs beautiful in silhouette. Wearing only a clean pair of white cotton panties, Melissa gathered up her hair in both hands, and piled it into a bouffant on top of her head, turning sideways to me, seductively cocking her left hip at me, and striking a pose, a mischievous grin on her face. "You like?" she purred. I noticed then the small patches of light auburn hair in her armpits, and they excited me very much. I groaned loudly, and began fumbling at my clothes. "No, no, no " she chastised me. "I get to do that " She crawled on top of me, her nearly-naked body warm and exciting on top of mine. She reached behind me, her hands slipping under my back, and unhooked my bra. Then she slipped the blouse up, off my shoulders and back, and the bra followed along, both ending up on the floor. I sighed at being naked with her, and Melissa hugged me, our breasts finally together, her much larger tits engulfing mine. The feel of her hot femininity on me was the most exciting thing I'd ever felt. Melissa held my head in her strong hands, and kissed me yet again, a warm, slow joining of us both. Our breathing, and saliva, mingled and became one, my heart racing again. After kissing me for the longest time, my hands now more purposefully touching Melissa, loving the feel of her naked skin under my fingers, Melissa got up, then began unbuttoning my new denim short shorts, and wiggling them off my slim hips as I giggled, and I lifted my butt off the bed to help her. She nearly shot backwards from the sudden lack of resistance, when I raised up my ass, and she sat down hard on her full bottom, whoofing out her breath at the sudden drop. Melissa crawled back between my legs, both of us now clad only in thin panties. Mine were much more decorative than Melissa's, as mine were a baby blue floral pattern (to her white), but if there'd been a vote, my vote would have gone, in a 'lustslide' to her panties, since her ass filled them out so nicely, and the big wet spot in the front told me all I needed to know about her interest in, and desire for, me. Melissa lay back down on top of me, kissing my lips yet again, her breasts once again caressing mine, and she squeezed her legs in between mine. Taking the hint, I spread my thighs apart, and her pubic area pushed down on mine, our pussies pressing against each other through the two layers of cotton. I could feel an immense amount of heat coming off her cunt, and her creamy wetness blending with my own, as I realized that my panties were dripping with my own excited lubrication. Then Melissa began pushing and grinding her cunt against mine, and I felt amazing sparks shooting directly out of my clitoris every time she touched me. I moaned as I came, several times. My hips moved on their own, completely without any conscious thought on my part, my thighs and legs lifting up, to give Melissa complete access to my pussy. It was a wise move on my body's part, as my excitement and passion increased dramatically. I heard myself wailing, as Melissa fucked me intently, her hips banging into me, between my legs, her pussy and clit marrying with mine, so deeply and eternally. My fingernails scratched over Melissa's smooth back, and it wasn't until I heard her yelp that I realized I'd drawn blood in my passion. I kissed her face frantically and apologized, and Melissa laughed, a sheen of perspiration on her face as she caught her breath, and said, "That's okay, sweetie. It made the pleasure even greater." She lay supine on me momentarily, and I realized we were both sweating, our upper bodies slickly rubbing together. It felt really funny to be naked, to be sweating, to be naked with, and on another female, and of course, my first orgasms felt spectacular. In the past, I'd cum a little when I'd masturbated, but having an orgasm with another person, especially a woman, just multiplied it like a thousand times. I thought it was something I might want to do again. Melissa raised herself up, and looked into my eyes. "How ya doin', frosh? Going with the flow?" I grinned up at her beautiful face, and said, "Uh huh. I liked that. Very much " "Good," she said. "Because we've only just begun." She ground her pussy against mine, lightly now, a few more times, reminding me of the pleasure I'd just experienced under her. As I groaned, Melissa raised herself onto her knees between my legs, then sprawled down onto the mattress between my thighs. Her face was only inches away from my sopping wet pussy, and I began to be afraid that I might not smell very good. Melissa alleviated my fears, by putting her nose less than an inch from the big wet spot on my panties, inhaling deeply, and then kissing my pussy lightly through the wet fabric. "Mmm, it's been too long," she said, mysteriously. "I've missed that." I guessed that she still missed her previous lover in some deep way, and I felt sad for her loss. But Melissa didn't waste any time in attending to my little pussy. Her fingers traced along the hems of my panties, along the insides of my thighs, and only about an inch away from my pussy on either side. I giggled, as I was ticklish there, but the feeling was so delicious. It was almost like having her actually touching my pussy and clit, and it made me want that all the more. I moved my hips toward her hand, so that she'd get the idea and tease my little puss, but she avoided it, confining herself to my inner, inner thighs. Then Melissa curled her fingers over the waistband of my bikini panties, her fingers running over my stomach, and the curly pubic hair an inch or two below the waistband of the low rise panties. I cooed at her touch there. I'd never, of course, ever had a female touch me there, with a girl's delicate touch. I'd only been fumbled at there by boys, and there had been no pleasure in that then. Melissa hooked both index fingers under the band, sliding them from side to side, then she slowly began to pull the panties downwards, off my hips. I sucked in my breath, feeling that familiar anxiety at something new, but I also felt the pleasurable feeling in my clit that I was fast becoming fond of, from both the stimulation of the cotton fabric over my increasingly sensitive pink clit, and from the awareness that Melissa would soon be looking at my swollen clit, and my sopping wet pussy. And I SO wanted her to see them, and love them, as I loved her. I lifted up my bottom off the mattress, my chin pressing against my chest as I slightly exerted myself, issuing a little grunt as I did. Melissa gave my panties a little shimmy from side to side, and since they were so wet, they peeled off me more than slid off, turning inside out as they moved down my thighs, until the last section of panties, the reinforced crotch, pulled out from between my labia, where it had been pressed in, no doubt by Melissa's previous athletic fucking. Melissa sucked in her breath when my clit, and wet slit, were unveiled, and I began to worry that she might think that they were ugly. She let go of my panties, with them down by my knees, and clapped her hands together, and gave a little exclamation. "Oh, Laura Your pussy is so beautiful " "It is?" I said. "Oh, god yes Your sweet little lips are so plump and pink. I love your fat little pussy lips And your inner lips are so petite and small. They look delicious Your little thatch is so neat, your blonde hair is so pretty, I just want to kiss it " And so she did. I wriggled under the teasing feel of her mouth so close to my aching pussy and clit. Rising back up on her knees from kissing my small bush, she continued. "And sweetie, your tiny little clit is so, so beautiful. It's all red, and wet and looks so delicious, I can't wait to lick your little pearl, darling And your lovely little slit. So wet, so hot, so fragrant. You smell like a woman in love, darling. And I so want to make love to you there " Melissa resumed removing my panties, and when I lifted up my legs to make it easier for her to get them off me, she put her arm under my upraised legs, keeping them momentarily up in the air, exposing my perineum and ass hole to her view, too. "Ohh, baby, your bottom hole looks so delicious, too. It looks so tasty, you've got my mouth watering " I'd never considered the possibility of anybody ever putting their mouth on my ass hole, much less on my rear end, and much less a female lover doing the pleasuring. The thought of Melissa placing her perfect lips on my ass hole, sent shivers through my body, and I came just at the anticipation of such an act. Melissa, feeling my hips shiver in orgasm, slowly let me lower my legs, and I lay there with my knees up, my feet flat on the mattress, and my thighs spread. Melissa nestled herself with her face next to my wet cunt, and slipped her arms under my thighs, her hands curled up on my hips, so that she could pull herself closer, or easily move my hips, if she desired. She placed a light, soft kiss on my clitoris, and my hips jumped, even from that minimal contact. Then she set to licking along my swollen outer labia, as though licking an ice cream cone, her rough tongue caressing my plump, smooth flesh. "Umm, your cream is leaking all over," she commented, then returning to her task. She licked upwards on both sides, approaching, but not reaching, my clitoris. My anticipation and excitement increased as she came closer and closer to my ultra-sensitive nubbin, like the feeling you get as a kid when a friend is tickling you. I was always on the edge of pushing her head away, but I never quite got there. As a result, I was squirming madly from the building sexual tension in my pelvis. A slight sheen of perspiration broke out on my forehead, as Melissa licked and kissed me. Then Melissa pulled back from licking my labia, and the tension dissipated slightly, as she gave me a chance to come back down from my amatory high. She kissed my inner thighs, ignoring my pussy for a few long minutes, then, when she sensed I was ready, she returned her attention to my vaginal area. This time she licked at my swollen pussy lips, again, making little circles all along my labia, but only a couple of times. Then she planted a deep, loving kiss on my pussy, just as though my labia were my other lips, and thrust her tongue deeply inside my silky-wet, and hot slit, her rough tongue sending shock waves of pleasure through the thin tissues and sensitive nerve endings of my tiny pussy. I yelped, then moaned, as orgasm after orgasm crashed through me. My hands were gripping the sheet on either side, and I actually ripped the white cotton sheet when my fingers spasmed into a fist after a particularly intense cum. Melissa's tongue was relentless, thrusting again and again inside me, fucking me deliriously into a state of near catatonia as my nerve endings overloaded with pleasure. Much like an electrical blackout, where overloads crash successive power systems, my whole body was freezing up from this ultimate pleasure that Melissa was bestowing on me. "Uh, stop, stop," I was finally forced to say, pushing Melissa's head away from my crotch, a peculiar buzzing running throughout my whole body. Melissa immediately pulled away from my pussy. She got up from between my legs, then lay next to me, spooning with me on the side, her slim fingers petting my hair as I calmed down. I could feel her warm pubic area rubbing against my round, naked bottom. Once again, my heart was racing tremendously, this time from the extreme pleasure my lover had given me. My breathing was shallow and rapid. Melissa held me, and kissed my head, her hands slowly reaching back across my body, and stroking and caressing me everywhere as my sensitivity decreased. Finally, I turned my head to face her, my eyes sparkling with love. "Melissa, I love you so much," I whispered. "So much." She kissed me then, her soft, full lips pressing against mine, and I inhaled, and tasted, the most intoxicating fragrance, then realized it was the scent and taste of my own pussy on her mouth and face. I began licking her face, wanting more of that. "Is that what pussy tastes like?" I said wonderingly. "That's what YOUR pussy tastes like," Melissa grinned. "You'll never forget the taste of your true love's pussy. Never," she said, suddenly fierce. "Why do you think I like it so much?" "I've got to get some of that," I said. "Does yours taste like that?" I said, teasingly. "Only one way to find out," Melissa said, rolling onto her back. I enthusiastically took her hint, and laid down on top of her, our faces, breasts and hips together. While my lips rejoined hers, my breasts rubbed against her bigger tits, and my naked, wet pussy nestled between her still panty-clad hips, pressing against her pussy. The student was anxious to show the teacher what she'd learned. I kissed my way down her lovely body. Her nipples weren't long, but wide, and I took each of them into my mouth in turn as though I'd only stopped nursing the week before. Her nipples tasted slightly salty, warm and rubbery between my lips, and I felt Melissa shift her hips around as I began sucking on her. I felt a joyous tingle in my own groin as I mouthed her tits, and I know she did, too, moaning softly beneath me. I felt especially close to my new lover then. Melissa's breasts were lightly freckled, and full and round, sagging a little, and I loved them, and her, so much. I moved further down her sweet body, her stomach slightly rounded. I'm sorry for that madness some people have for model-slim women, sometimes a mature woman is so much more attractive and sexually appealing. I kissed her inny navel, and when I thrust my tongue into it, Melissa giggled, and lightly slapped my head. "All the action's downtown, frosh " she said, jokingly. I continued down, to her hips, still covered in panties. Her panties were absolutely soaked, with a mixture of her fluids and mine, and I stroked the plumpness of her pubic area straining against the wet fabric. "Umm, I want to see," I said. I immediately began pulling her panties down off her hips, marveling at her beautiful pubes. Pulling the panties down off her feet, I balled them up and sniffed them, loving the exotic scent, a combination of her body, and a little of mine. I loved it. Melissa looked up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "I've got something even better waiting for you," she said, wiggling her hips enticingly. My eyes went to her full pubic bush. Melissa's bush was trimmed so that there were no straggling hairs along her labia or in various other places, but wasn't thinned out at all above her clit and pussy, lush and full, a little brown pubic pillow above her pussy. My fingers trailed through her bush, always leading to her clitoris, which was rather big, at least bigger than mine, anyway. I touched it lightly with my fingertip, and her hips jerked. "Easy, honey," she said. "I've got a sensitive trigger. My first lover always had a little trouble with that, getting a teensy bit too rough when she got excited. Don't you be like that." "Yes ma'am," I said, chastened but still enthusiastic. I touched her labia then with my finger. Her outer lips were quite large and plump, and looked like they'd be fun to suck into my mouth. Her inner labia were thin and long, and her slit inside was a dark red and flowing with her cream. I thought it all looked lovely, and I dipped my face closer to her muff. I tentatively inhaled her smell. It was musky, but sweet and salty too. It wasn't unpleasant at all, much like my own smell that I got secondhand from Melissa's face. It was also different from mine, and I knew that it was a smell I could love, and know it was hers. I loved her pussy's sweet fragrance more than any perfume I've ever found. I shyly dabbed at her wet lips with my tongue, and her taste was much like her fragrance, but thick. I was even more excited by the texture of her slit. It was like licking a slick, silky warm little tunnel, so welcoming, and encouraging, and, well, mothering. I got really excited when Melissa's full hips began rotating under my mouth, and knowing that I was causing that reaction in her. "That's it, baby, lick me there, yeah," Melissa began cooing. Her hands were on my head, fingers entwined in my long, blonde, teenager's hair, lightly directing me in how I might best please her. I appreciated her guidance, and was grateful to be under her tutelage, so to speak. I pressed my tongue deeper inside her when she pushed down with her hands, and was rewarded with small gushes of her fluid. From that, and the small, soft cries she made, I sensed that she was cumming under my mouth. Her hips shook and shivered, and she moaned with pleasure. All Cats are Grey "Oh god, yes baby, yes, that's it, make your woman cum, yesss " I felt a pleasure almost as great as my own cum, at making Melissa orgasm. I was proud of my newly-learned skill. Eventually, though, it became too intense for her, too, and she pushed my head away, saying, "C'mon up to mama, baby, I want to cuddle and hold you against me forever " I lay with her then, and we fell asleep together, never to part again. I thought, anyway. The next morning was especially sweet. I felt Melissa's warm lips on mine, softly kissing me, awakening me. As I sleepily responded, she moved on, leisurely kissing and licking my breasts, and stiff nipples. Then she quickly moved down to my pussy, thick with both our fluids from the previous evening's loveplay. She kissed and licked me lovingly there for about 15 minutes, bringing me to many more orgasms as she mouthed my pussy lips, my wet slit and especially, my throbbing clit. To my great surprise, she didn't stop with that, but made me roll over onto my stomach. Then she proceeded to separate my hot butt cheeks, stroking inside my brown furrow with her fingertip, a very new sensation for me, her finger gently tickling the puckered opening of my anus. I quivered under her touch, hoping that she would pay even more attention to that newly discovered responsive area. I could feel my pussy dripping as she stimulated me there. I hoped that she might pick up some of my excess flow, and use it to penetrate me. Instead, I felt a hot, wet probe into the center of my puckered opening. Melissa was licking my asshole Her tongue felt so delicious as it sunk past the tightly guarded opening to my rectum, fucking my tight hole, moistening my asshole with her mouth and tongue. Melissa kissed me so lewdly for the longest time, her lips pressed to my asshole in a perverted, and wonderful kiss that I would never forget. I groaned, and rotated my hips madly under her, pleasant orgasms coursing through me in a long, smooth flow, rather than in separate cums. I thought that must be the limit of Melissa's, or anyone's, sexual imagination, and blessed God for sending her to me, when, after we rested for a few minutes, Melissa urged me up on my hands and knees. I complied, my rear and pussy vulnerable and open, trusting this wondrous woman. I heard soft, squishing sounds, and heard Melissa sighing. I looked back, and gasped. Melissa had slid her thumb up inside her pussy, and was slowly fucking herself. Then she knee-walked herself to my bottom. Extending her index finger, while keeping her thumb deep inside her own wet and fragrant cunt, she slowly slid her index finger inside my asshole, as though her hand were a double-headed dildo. The sensation of having my new girlfriend finger fucking my ass was, to say the least, mind blowing. Melissa began fucking me, keeping her thumb pretty much inside her slit, but moving it enough to stimulate her pussy and clit, and thrusting her finger fiercely in and out of my rear end. It didn't take long, particularly with my own fingers stroking my clit, for both of us to reach yet another pinnacle of pleasure, cumming simultaneously, our copious fluids running down our thighs in ecstasy. We collapsed into a little pile of girl, and went back to sleep, the deepest I can recall. From then on we WERE inseparable. We would take long walks around the campus duck pond, the soft waves lapping gently at the sandy shoreline, small green lines of washed-up chickweed like cuneiform symbols running parallel to the water's edge. The sparrows, and occasional red-hued cardinal flitting by, providing an animated touch to the pastoral backdrop of weeping willows along the edge of the small pond, along with the comically quacking ducks crossing the water in search of handouts. Our noses caught stray whiffs of sweet honeysuckle, as we strolled along, holding hands. The small children messily playing in the mud along the shore were a reminder to us both of the fruits of deep companionship, of love, of tenderness shared between two people. Their laughter was a sweet complement to the beauty of the strolls with Melissa. We often spoke of dreams to come, and of dreams already fulfilled. I spoke of 'loves past,' but Melissa skirted shyly around that particular topic, vaguely speaking of 'a love she had once lost.' As an English major, I found the construction of that sentence odd. I could never, ever get her to speak of the person, though she was open about everything else. When I would ask her directly about it, she'd only look at me sadly, and say nothing. I couldn't even tell if the person was a man or a woman. The loss she felt must have been terrible, and it made me sad to know she'd been hurt so. She showed me the locket that I'd noticed her wearing the first night I saw her. She said that her lover had given it to her, and that she wore it to remember her by. I said nothing more about that topic, and never brought it up again. But when we spoke of 'loves present and future,' we'd look at each other shyly, our eyes shining then, and I knew that we would be together forever. That was, of course, not accounting for the vagaries of drunk drivers and their evil attraction to an innocent female crossing the street from the drug store. At the risk of sounding sappy, that's how our love, life, and relationship, was. She taught me, about love and life, and I will never be able to repay it to her. I guess that's the thing I regret most about her passing, that I can never pay back to her. After she died, I found the locket she had worn in commemoration of her first lover, the gold locket with a diamond inset, and I took it as my memory of Melissa. PART TWO I returned to the present, musing over my sweet memories of Melissa and me. I got up from the bench in the fragrant, flower bedecked arbor, and slowly walked back to the house. I entered the kitchen and saw the gardener sitting at the kitchen table drinking an iced tea. "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I'll get out right now," he said. "No, don't worry about it," I said. "I'd like to ask you some questions about the house, if you wouldn't mind." "Yes ma'am, I'll help if I can, ma'am," he said. "Tell me about this place," I said. "Anything unusual I should know about?" "Um, ma'am, we're not supposed to talk about it," he said. My curiosity piqued, I said, "Oh, the lawyer told me all about 'it.' I just wondered what you thought of 'it.'" Of course, I had no idea what 'it' could be. "It's alright then?" the simple man asked, a relieved smile breaking out on his face. "Well, it's okay to talk to you about it, then?" I nodded affirmatively. He proceeded to tell me a story right out of a Victorian novel, of a ghostly presence in the mansion that only manifested itself in the dark, by whispering around visitors and residents alike, and even touching one or two, or so they said. The spirit, apparition, whatever, had been showing up occasionally for a number of years, perhaps nearly twenty as he recalled. Smart money said that it was the ghost of a young girl from the 1800s who had supposedly run off to be with her lover, but whom some believed at the time to have been murdered. A real haunted house Maybe this would be better than TV, since the reception wasn't very good in that part of the country. I went to sleep that night in the second biggest bedroom - I didn't feel comfortable in the master suite, and besides, this room was painted in the loveliest shade of green, one I would have picked out myself. It wasn't until my seventh night there that it came to me. As I lay in bed, I felt a breeze blow over me, followed by indistinct whisperings that sounded like a teenaged girl talking to someone. "Who is it," I called. Nothing replied, save some whispers. Perhaps the wind blowing through the eaves. "Who is it, I said," I called again. To my utter shock, a teenaged girl's voice replied, "It's only me." "Who are you?" I quavered. "What do you want?" "I live here. But who are you?" the voice whispered. "There's no one else around, what-." "Who are you?" I repeated, more forcefully. "I live here, I said," the young girl's voice said, sounding a little indignant, and taking on a little strength itself. "Do you live here, too?" At that point, I was hoping the girl might just go away, but I also wanted to find out more. "Why do you haunt this house?" I asked. "Haunt?" the voice asked. "I'm not dead, or a ghost, how could I haunt? I'm an eighteen year old girl, I take classes, I talk, well, I suppose, to myself. Okay, not too many friends, none, actually, but I'm real. Are you interested in being friends, spirit?" the voice said. That was a real turnabout This ghost thought that I was the ghost I supposed that ghosts saw humans as the apparitions, instead of the other way around. Of course, it IS thought that the reason ghosts exist, if they really do, is because they haven't yet realized they're, um, dead. I supposed that ghosts saw humans as the apparitions, instead of the other way around. I was feeling really creepy about that, remembering the movie, 'The Sixth Sense,' which was just exactly about ghosts that didn't realize they were dead. But then, I still talked to, and was talked to, by the staff of the house, and they in turn went into town frequently, so there was no chance I was the ghost The ghost was the ghost. Poorly stated, but accurate. "Can you see me? What's your name? When were you born?" I asked, the questions spilling out. Perhaps I could find out how this ghost came to haunt the mansion, by finding out when it lived. It could be from any era that the house existed, maybe even from before the house existed "I'm really lonely here," she said. "I've got no one to talk to, just my books. Can I sit next to you?" she said, ignoring my questions, but apparently signaling that she could, indeed, see me, even if I couldn't see her. "Well, okay," I said, curious to see where this impromptu seance would take me. I felt a light touch as she settled in next to me, her shoulders unexpectedly warm against mine. I felt a shock of familiarity in her touch, like the touch of another living person. The room was completely dark, but I could feel the sheets move as her body, or essence, or spirit or whatever settled down next to me. I noticed an attractive aroma of flowers from her, I guess, her breath, which was warm. I slowly reached over to the lamp and switched it on, shocked to see that there was nothing at all there. I looked around to see where she'd gone to, but no luck. "Hello," I said. No reply. "I said, 'Hello '" This time, louder. No reply. Not even the sound of wind. I switched off the lamp, and instantly heard and felt this mysterious girl next to me again. "Well, what's the matter?" she said. "You're certainly acting funny." "You don't exist, or I can't see you, or something, but you don't exist in the light. You ARE a ghost," I said. In retrospect, I was amazed that this sequence of events didn't give me a heart attack. "I'm sorry, I can't explain it to you. I only know that I can wander this place, and see it as it will be, at least as I THINK it will be. Anyway, I can see the people, and I talk to them, but they never talk back to me. You're the first person that I could actually have a conversation with. And honestly, there's nothing to do here, you're quite wonderful to talk to me " she said. "Please, could I come visit you, perhaps be your friend? It would mean ever so much to me," she asked. The hopeful sound of her voice, and her desperate loneliness broke my heart, and rekindled in me a sense of the loneliness I'd felt since Melissa's passing. God, if there were any kind of divine justice, this would have been Melissa's spirit come to comfort me, but that would be a bit too much to expect. "... someone who once lived here?" I heard her voice, breaking into my memory of Melissa. "I'm sorry? What did you say?" I asked into the darkness next to me, wiping away a small tear. "I said, 'Are you the ghost of someone I once knew, or someone who once lived here?'" her young, small voice asked again. I sighed. "I don't really know," I said. "This has really been a bit of a shock. Aren't you at all upset?" I asked. With the insouciance of ghostly youth, I suppose, she replied, "Oh no, I'm used to it. But you ARE the first ghost who's ever talked back, so that's a bonus " I looked at the clock by my bedside. "Yikes, it's late, I must get to sleep. Please, can you return tomorrow? I'd love to talk to you more..." "Could I stay here with you?" she asked, yawning. "I'm quite tired too. And I promise I wouldn't be any trouble" So saying, I felt her arms go around me, and I was thankful that I was wearing a nightgown I hugged her back, and felt her rest her head against my breast. Soon, I felt her breathing lightly, as though she had fallen asleep. Since I felt pretty sure this particular wraith wasn't going to sprout claws, or breath fire, I rapidly fell asleep too. During the night, I was comforted by her constant touch, and presence close to me, as real as you. When I awoke in the morning, I couldn't feel, see or hear the girl, though I thought I detected that same faint aroma of flowers. I felt more cheerful than I had in a long time, and I realized that since Melissa's death two years before I hadn't felt anything approaching contentment or happiness. The ghostly visitor was good for me in that respect. I thought back to the few things that I had managed to note about her. I felt her touch, which was as real as yours, or mine, but only in the dark, strong and firm. Her voice had taken on additional strength, too, as we talked during the night. The voice of a girl in her late teens, perhaps. Her fragrance was, as I mentioned before, sweet and that of flowers, or some flower-based perfume. Taste, of course, I had no idea. It was only my sense of sight that was lacking in respect to knowing her, both in the dark and the light.. As for her, she seemed to be able to see and hear me, oh, and feel me, but as to taste and smell, well, I had no idea about that. And where she went to in the light, of that I had no idea, either. Except for her complete absence to every sense in the light, in the dark she was a real, living, breathing young woman. I had felt, heard and smelled her. Three out of five senses wasn't too bad, I guessed, at least to end up with the best ghost story of all time, anyway My thoughts were quite cheery the next day, and I became very interested in possibly learning more about the house's strange inhabitant. After a hearty dinner, and watching TV, I retired to the master suite again. I looked at my bed when I entered the room. Made up by the maid earlier in the day, the bed showed no presence. When I got into bed, and turned out the light, I felt the young woman again. I swore that I could feel her entire length against me in the bed, from the hair on top of her head, long and thick, to her warm and full chest, arms, hips, legs and feet. Her touch felt very nice, and comfortable against my nightgown clad body. "Where were you?" she muttered sleepily. I was bemused by a quiz from a ghost, but replied, "I was just looking for you. Where did you go?" Her sleepy voice answered, "I fell asleep here waiting for you." I snuggled up against her, and kissed where I thought her cheek was, overcome by affection for this friendly and open spirit. I fell asleep spooning with her, and when I woke up the next morning, in the light, she was once again gone. Spirited away, you might say We fell into a regular routine. She would be waiting for me in bed, and occasionally, but not always, we would talk. We'd lay down to sleep, and as for myself, I slept wonderfully, then every morning she would be gone. Her nightly attire seemed to consist of a long nightgown too, but I couldn't tell from feeling it, what era in time it might be from, giving me a clue as to who she might be. Unfortunately, women's nightgowns are really classic, and haven't changed that much over long spans of time She seemed to need my emotional warmth more than anything else, and for lack of any other companionship of my own, I gave it to her. Surprisingly, she returned it to me doubled. The staff noticed a real change in me over the next few weeks. The gardener I had talked to the first day seemed to see me as a special confidante, and he said, "Miss, you've really perked up since you've been here. You were something of a drudge that first day, but you're right perky now." "Um, thanks." I paused. "No, thank you very much " I said, smiling, and appreciating his compliment, even if it was somewhat lefthanded. Then one night, a few weeks after meeting the girl, as we both lay down to sleep, I felt her soft, warm lips on my cheek, a kiss so gentle and powerful. "Good night," she said, and hugged me fiercely. I slept soundly that night, and I don't think her arms left me at all until the morning, when she was once again gone. The next night, as we lay down together, she said, "You're so soft and warm. You're the nicest person I've ever touched. I'd like to marry you some day." Well, YOU try to go to sleep after hearing that. I was torn between the compliment, and wondering what was up with this seductive, ghostly girl. Nonetheless, I did fall asleep, but her words lay heavily on my mind the next day. I thought of that old French proverb, I don't know how it popped into my head, "All cats are grey in the dark." Could touching, and kissing, and perhaps loving, this shadow girl, ever be like my Melissa? Could I ever confuse the two in my head, or in my heart? I didn't know, but there was a strong attraction beckoning me. When I turned off the light, and she instantly reappeared, at least to my senses of touch, hearing and smell, I asked her about her remark. "Don't you have any boys where you are?" She snorted. "Yes, what of it? They're not at all attractive. They're rough, and not very serious, and not very fun to touch. You're the first person that I've found that I loved touching. And you smell nice. I sometimes get a special shiver when I touch you." A ghost having an orgasm? Was she some sort of succubus? Jesus, what was I getting into? I needed to know more about the girl. "You're frightened, aren't you," I asked her. "I'm not sure," she said, her voice turning uncertain. She moved to kiss me, but I turned my cheek aside slightly. Not enough to turn her away, but enough that she would know I wanted the truth, her truth. "You ARE frightened. You're shaking," I said, my hand on her side, under her arm. "Do I frighten you?" "You could never frighten me, I want to be with you" she said. "Please kiss me now." "You can't avoid the truth, darling," I said. "Are you afraid of kissing a woman?" She paused to think about that. "Yes, I had been," she admitted. "But not now." "Would you like to be naked with me? Are you afraid to be naked with me?" "Oh yes, I am. And yes, I would," she said. "Like to be naked with you, I mean." "Why are you afraid to be naked with me?" I asked. She sighed. "I'm not sure. I'm not sure what will happen," she said finally. "Do you think that I would hurt you?" I asked. "No. You wouldn't hurt me," she said. I could hear the confidence in her voice. "Then you must not trust yourself," I said plainly. I was shocked to discover that I was playing out with this young girl, almost word for word, the same voyage of self-discovery I had undertaken with Melissa. "Well, it could mean something about me, something I don't want to face," she said. "What does you think it means about you?" I asked her gently. "It would mean that I wanted to be naked with you." "And?" "And, have you make love to me. And me making love to you."