19 comments/  78434 views/  70 favorites

My GF; Fucking & How We Met

By: LesbianChickLit



Sex section is bookended with ~~~. Feel free to quit reading at that point if you're not into plot.

Standard Boilerplate: Contains graphic lesbian sex to be enjoyed by legal adults. Characters not meant to resemble anyone living or dead, fictional or real. 

Comments welcome!




I step inside out of the Seattle rain and kick off my sensible business-heels, sighing a bit to only be 5'10" again, but relieved to be done early and back in my warm and relaxing house. Loud music draws me into my kitchen, where my cute girlfriend is cooking dinner in her white sports bra and fuzzy Futurama pants. Nearly 21 years old, she still loves teen pop and animated shows. At 27, those aren't really so much my tastes. It's endearing on her though.

She's moving her hips to Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night" and singing along. She undoubtedly has no more business singing than she does cooking. Those hips however...

She catches me staring and blushes a little with a self-conscious smile. "Hey Baby! I didn't expect you home so early." Her bashfulness excites something in me that is protective, possessive, and predatory all at once.

~~~ She forgets whatever it is she was frying to throw her arms around my neck and tilt her face up for a kiss. I indulge her rather more intensely than she expected, but her lips immediately part for my tongue as my hands slip under her waistband to knead her ass in the lace panties she wears for me. I can never get over how soft she is. Her lips, her ass, her tummy, her cheek. She's in no way anything like plump, but she has velvety skin and supple curves that include delightful b-cub breasts perfectly complimenting her 5'4" frame. Her body is sic.

I walk her backwards without breaking our kiss, reluctantly withdrawing my hands to turn off the stove burners. Setting her on the countertop, I tangle my left hand in her tousled blonde hair to hold the kiss and start rubbing and tweaking her left nipple with my right hand. I love how immediate and unconscious her reactions are to my touch. And not just her cherry nipple rapidly hardening. She instinctively wraps her arms and legs around me and moans her need into my mouth. I switch hands, but keep teasing her until she starts slowly gyrating against me. Then I keep teasing her a while longer, because I like it.

She eventually breaks the kiss, 

panting. "Please...?" When she looks at up at me and begs like that – her honey-golden brown eyes all wide and pleading – I really do want to melt and relent.

Playing with her is just too fun though.

"Mmmm, take off your bra." I had my lips clamped 

to her right nipple before it hit the ground. Poor baby spent the next ten minutes with one hand in my long red hair and the other hanging on to the cabinet for balance. She was moaning, whimpering, and rocking on my kitchen counter as I licked, nibbled, sucked, and nipped her breasts to my heart's content.

"Please, baby? Please?" Her voice was getting slightly more urgent and breathless, but I wanted take her further.

"Please what, Kitten?" I broke for a second to feign ignorance.

"Please, I need you!" She groaned out audibly.

"Need me to what? I'm kinda busy here, Gorgeous." I turn myself to the right in the vice grip of her legs to feel her grind against my left hip.

"I, I need you to take me." She hates engaging in dirty talk. Loves it from me, but she never curses and she embarrasses easily.

"Hrmmmmm," I bring myself to her eye level and look at her with mock-seriousness. "I'm pretty happy right here, Beautiful." I reclaim her lips and take hold of her sweet ass again, scooting her to the edge of my countertop and lightly grinding her against myself.

"PLEASE FUCK ME!?" She all but screams in her frustration when I finally release her mouth for air.

I pick her up off my countertop and set her on her feet, then smirk down at her as she pouts. I only take a couple seconds to enjoy our dynamic though, because I'm getting pretty turned on too and very much want to fuck her silly.

"Get your cute ass naked and in my bed," I order, slapping her butt playfully.

She takes off down the hall and is naked as a jaybird and on her back on my bed before I reach the doorway. She smiles up at me expectantly - legs spread and hands gripping the pillow beneath her head – and looks pointedly at the night stand where I keep my strapon. 

Still, I take my time and give her a brief striptease as she masturbates herself watching me. First the suit-skirt and panties are pulled down off my long, toned legs. I leave the garter belt and stockings on, because I know she loves the feel against the inside of her thighs. Shirt and bra go last, because my breasts are her favorite part of my body. Firm and proud, they're a c-cup that would probably be a d-cup if I stopped working out. My abs are my favorite part of my body though, and I'd gladly trade a cup size for my six pack.

I buckle on the harness and saunter to the foot of my bed, her eyes never leaving me. Leaning forward, I grab her ankles and yank her to me. Her legs hang off my bed spread around me, with her dripping pussy right on the literal and figurative edge. A pillow under her lovely ass creates the angle I want and I can't help chuckling at how she's so short that her cute little toes can no longer touch the floor with the added height of the pillow. I lean over her body and pin her slim wrists above her head with my left hand, simultaneously signaling the end of her being allowed to touch herself and ensuring that that the majority of my upper body weight is placed on my knuckles. I put my right hand on her hip to steady and calmly caress her.

For the past five months, I've been regularly taking her with the same 8-inch strapon. Her pussy is still so tight though that I have to be careful to enter her slowly, despite how wet she is. I gradually slide into her, centimeter by centimeter, relishing the tension of her body and the pressure of the base against my clit. I bottom out in her and lean briefly onto my elbow to bite the shell of her ear lightly and whisper, "I love you, my beautiful girl." She moans back in response, beyond words in the pleasure of finally being filled.

I pull nearly all the way out and start a gentle rhythm of long strokes until I feel her legs lock at the small of my back and her hips rise to increase friction. At, "Harder, Baby! Annahh!Please harder?!" I speed up to match her thrusts, glorying in creating that combination of moans and indecipherable gibberish from her that drives me mad.

In and out, in and out. Each time conscientiously ensuring I stimulate her clit. Each time ensuring I hit bottom and pop her eyes back open with the force. Making sure with every stroke that deep in the most primitive depths of her mind she knows she's being fucked and proper. Right up until I feel her on the very brink of an explosively satisfying orgasm.

Then I stop.

She looks up at me bleary and horror-stricken, too wound up to voice her frustration in more than whimpers. She tries raise her hips to meet the contact she craves or loose her hands to touch herself, but I'm effectively holding her down and much physically stronger than she is.

I wait for her eyes to focus on me and ask, "Who do you belong to?"

"YOU!" she answers emphatically, seeing a verbal path to renew the pounding she had been receiving.

"Whose girl are you?"

"Yours. I'm yours!"

"Tell me. Tell me you're my girl!"

"I'm your girl!"

"Say it again. Keep saying it."

"I'm your girl! I'm your girl! I'm your girl! I'm your girl! I'm your girl! I'm your gAAAAAAh!

In a single thrust I'm back inside her, wildly driving the strapon in and out of her. I release her wrists and she grabs my shoulders, arching her back as far as she could and thrusting up so violently that only her shoulder blades and head remained touching the bed. Sweat drips freely from my brow, arms, and breasts onto her. I think vaguely that I'll need to be sure to get her Gatorade and water to replenish all the fluids she'll have lost by the time I'm done. She could only maintain the frantic pace briefly before exploding her cum and collapsing onto the bed. She pants and looks at me, waiting for me to crawl up the bed and hold her as she comes down.

But my girl is capable of multiples and I've decided to demand her full capabilities today.

Her hips still twitched as went to my knees and began licking up her cream like a starving cat, holding her thighs open and still. She never got a chance to stop moaning, but it intensifies as I began tongue-fucking her hypersensitive pussy. 

The groaning starts when I curl two fingers inside her, stimulating her thus far ignored g-spot. I keep the fingering of her g-spot going until her hips stopped moving completely, but her cum was nearly flowing out of her again. Then - still fingering her through half-hearted protests – I tease her clit back out with my left thumb, quickly latching onto the throbbing bud with as much suction as I can produce while flicking it rapidly with the tip of my tongue. In a couple minutes, she's mewling and clearly on the cusp of a second climax. I bite down on her clit and she cums screaming my name.

I watch my girlfriend trying to recover from the immense amount of pleasure her body withstood. Her trembling, liquefied form looks as though she were crafted from jello. She's looks so angelic when she's blissed out past all reasoning and emotion. In her post-orgasmic stupor, she seems completely relaxed in and entirely unable to move a muscle. 

This is my best shot.

I continue to kneel at the foot of the bed and reach under to take out the first of three items I've stashed there, a 6-inch dildo I'd bought the week before. I quickly switch out the 8-inch dildo in the harness and coat the new one liberally with the second item, warming anal lube. My girlfriend looks at me in mild confusion as I flip her onto her belly and move the pillow under her tummy.

I spread her soft cheeks and blow on her asshole gently. She murmurs inaudibly and I start to rim her with equal gentleness.

"Baby...I can't...no."

I stop and stand.

"What?"

"I, I...no."

*SMACK* I slap her ass. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to get her attention and leave a handprint.

"Whose girl are you?"

"I,I."

*SMACK* Slightly harder. She sticks her lovely backside out for another. Spanking really turns her on.

"Whose Girl Are You?"

"Yours, I'm your girl."

"And who does your ass belong to?"

"You. My ass belongs to you."

"Damn straight your ass belongs to me. Now relax and let me take care of you."

She visibly relaxes into the bed, her natural submissiveness overcoming her fear. I continue rimming her ass while stroking her flanks until she eventually seems accepting of assplay in general. I lube both my hands and use the left to play tenderly with her pussy, putting her into a state of low arousal. Painstakingly, one knuckle at a time, I inserted my index finger into her most intimate place. Whew, I had thought her pussy was tight. Over the course several minutes, I manage to get three fingers inside – still one knuckle at a time - to loosen her and thoroughly lubricate her inside. She's aware, aroused from the anal and vaginal stimulus, and moaning for me to "take her rosebud" which I find both adorable and encouraging.

I move her onto her knees and elbows and tell her to arch her back, while I add more lube to the still unused dildo. Kneeling behind her and still slowly finger fucking her pussy, I coo into her ear and press firmly with the strapon at the entrance to her "rosebud." She tenses, so I continue caressing and soothing her until her body relaxes again.

She grunts sharply as the head of the strapon penetrates her. I wait for her body to adjust and try to ignore the jerking presses of the strapon's base on my clit as she clenches and unclenches on the head. Soon she's ready for more and I plunge two inches deliberately in and out, adding more length to my thrusts increasingly as she pushes back into me. Soon I'm inserting four inches and she's breathing sharply and leaking profusely.

"Are you ready, Sweetie? You're two thirds of the way there." I pull my fingers from her pussy entirely to tickle the small of her back and keep caressing her thighs.

"Yyyyes." Her answer is a labored, but clear, sigh.

I redouble my efforts on her pussy. I want her to achieve orgasm during anal, but am reasonably certain she can't cum from anal alone or even primarily the first time. I lean over her body to tenderly play with her breasts and to kiss and nibble the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. When she's sufficiently worked up, I pinch her clit with my right hand and pulled her hip toward me while driving the last two inches deep into her ass. 

"Aahhhhhhhhhhh!" She loses it, cumming powerfully with her third orgasm. Her body shudders through aftershocks and she's trying to watch me for what's coming next, but can't keep her eyes open or her neck craned. I pull out and remove my harness entirely. ~~~ I straighten and spread her legs, then get the third item – a salve of witch hazel and aloe – and dollop some onto my finger tips and smear it over the impacted area. Her asshole is spasming erratically and I easily slide my index finger inside to coat the inner walls so she won't feel as sore tomorrow. I leave the salve on her nightstand so she'll find it if she wants it tomorrow.

A quick wash of my hands with the baby wipes I keep in my nightstand, and I crawl into bed with her. I lay on my back, nestle her into the crook my arm, pull a sheet up over us, and pet her face and hair. She looks up at me sleepily, clearly wanting to communicate something that's maybe a little too intangible for her right now.

"Thank you, Baby. I was scared to try, but..."

"I know, Cutie. Now it won't be as scary or as difficult if you ever want to try it again."

"Mmmm...Did you get to-"

"Don't worry, Pretty Girl. You'll get me tomorrow. Just sleep now."

"Mmmm...*yawn*...G'night, Baby."

She dozes off immediately, so I grab my ehookah (no nicotine), wireless ear buds, and universal remote. They're all sitting on my nightstand for just this purpose. Soon "The Daily Show" on NetFlix is projected onto the ceiling with the audio my ear and I'm enjoying cinnamon-flavored steam. She loves to be cuddled - maybe even more than the sex itself - and I find Jon Stewart funny. It works for us.

Stephen Colbert starts to interview some knucklehead about his big brother conspiracy book and my thoughts drift to the sweet girl next to/on top of me. One of her arms is draped over my rib cage, her legs are split over one of mine so that I can feel the heat of her pussy, and she's snoring lightly. I can't believe how domesticated she has me. Had I not cum with any of my previous lovers - she might get a 10-15 minute break - but I'd be getting off even if I needed to wake her up by grinding her face. No cuddling either. To be fair though, one, both, or all of us would be politely but firmly required to leave directly after. Now I'm laying frustrated in my own bed, choosing to just let her rest. She's always had a gentling effect on me.

I'll tell you about how we met while I resist the urge to start scissoring her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

One Friday night about five months ago, I had attended what was sadly only an averagely boring meeting of EKC Zonta. Excellence cause, just a difficult three hours at the end of a work week. I changed clothes in the parking lot and raced away.

At roughly 9pm, I handed the keys to my Jaguar XKR black-on-black-on-black convertible and a fifty to Matt the parking structure valet and jaywalked across Cherry Street. I swear I don't just have a Jag to drive ridiculously fast or pick up girls. I'm in-house counsel for a luxury public auto group headquartered in Seattle, so I can't exactly roll up in a jalopy. Still, I do have tinted windows for sex in public and I love hitting 140mph on the 5 when I have to do fieldwork in Oregon or Cali.

I specialize in acquisitions and contracting, particularly making sure any strategic purchases highly profit us (read: gobbling up the little guy.) Occasionally we absorb a smaller group or buy successful independent dealerships when the owner is ready to retire or move, but generally it's a failing business looking to get out with less debt than they would have built if they'd sustained their operating costs while trying to sell their remaining stock to consumers at commercial prices (read: going out of business sale). It's my job to ruthlessly ensure - through any technically legal means - that they don't. If adding to the financial defeat of already ruined small-business owners makes me a bad person, at least it makes me a prosperous one. My bosses also require me to have a working knowledge of real estate, tax, and labor law, which is important because we generally string owners along about buying their property until they're desperately near foreclosure in order to lowball them and because we generally fire and replace any and all existing employees. I also handled Mr. Henriksen's last two pre-nups and divorces, Mr. Dharmraj's parents' immigration, Mr. Ryan's baby adoption, and Mrs. Quentin's son's DUI, despite my protests that none of the cases were near my specialty and it was something like having an ear, nose, and throat doctor treat your glaucoma. But I digress...

Absently still humming along to Melissa Etheridge's "Secret Agent" and making a mental note to check out the Li Chen exhibit at the Frye later, I was unambiguously not looking for intellectual or cultural stimulation that night. So I walked two blocks to Cherry Girls' Bar. The rather raucous bar and the less fortunately named 11th Girls' Bar in Tacoma, Pacific Girls' Bar in Bremerton, and Evergreen Girls' Bar in Olympia are all owned by Nicole Peyton, a friend I met at an EWGA Seattle event and an integral member of my clique.

Nic tended bar that night and stood me up two Jameson straights and a ginger ale when she saw me walk in. She wanted to talk about acquiring a flopping sports bar in Everett she once she hit a lull in her shift. I told I'd be happy to, passed her a Visa, and noted thirty percent for the night. Bemusedly hoping the location would be on Wetmore Ave, I turned scoped out the talent in the meantime. Not much yet at 9 o'clock.

I nodded congenially at two baby dykes talking at the end of the bar, then continued to scan. A half dozen women danced together on the raised wooden floor. They were clearly friends and likely straight, but if they could enjoy dancing here without molestation, more power to them. In the slightly darkened booths, several couples being clearly not straight and pretty hot enjoyed each other. I'm not into poaching or the drama that comes with it though, so I kept moving. A few women sat at the tables, but none met my two rather simple visual requirements: hot and easy.

"Buy you a drink?" An attractive bullish dyke in her early thirties asked me. That's old enough to know better. It surprises me that so many lesbians don't read how other lesbians are dressed, or dress to be read themselves. 

Certainly all my gay male friends do. It may be my pet peeve because it's a focus point for me professionally. If I call on a dealership owner with expensive jewelry and older designer dress shoes wearing a cheap new suit, I know he's in trouble but hopeful. When I come back a month later and he's wearing the same suit and shoes, but his watch and class ring are gone and he's unconsciously twisting his wedding band, I know he's ready to deal.

My wavy deep red hair was in a high ponytail (no bullshit bangs or loose tresses to frame my face), my makeup was only subtly heavier than is professional (smokier eye, more blush, brighter lip), and my jewelry was vintage Celtic-styled silver (I assume that I'm Irish and I like the way the peridot pendant makes my green eyes flash more at a woman looking down my low-cut tank). I'm also wearing Michael Kors ankle boots (very black leather, straps with silver buckles, 4-inch spike heel), a Burberry quilted jacket (feminine silhouette, but biker design and also very black leather), and dark blue skinny low-rise Levi's (with the very noticeable bulge of a strapon at the crotch). Everything about me said I was here to fuck somebody.


My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 02



Sex sections are bookended with "~~~" again. Feel free just read those sections if the rest bores you. The first one is right after the "^^^^^" break.

Standard Boilerplate: Contains graphic lesbian sex to be enjoyed by legal adults. Characters not meant to resemble anyone fictional or real. 

Thanks for all the comments!



Quick recap: Against my better judgment, I had taken charge of a nice girl who was humiliated and stranded in my friend's gay bar by a menacing biker chick. Said biker chick was rapidly approaching us outside the bar as we left, her fist wound back and her intentions clear...



"I know your community corrections officer!" 

What...? Did you expect some deux ex machina stungun or rival biker gang to scare Angry Chick away? Maybe the whimpering girl behind me would turn out to be a ninja!? Or was I supposed to face my impending pounding with heroic resolve? In times of distress, my go-to responses are lying and legal threats.

A new amateur prison tattoo in WA probably meant an unexpected early release to community custody, which means automatic return for any new lawbreaking. Pure conjecture. Angry Chick could have simply wanted a tattoo that day. Still, the situational trajectory had her beating the living shit out of me, so I was willing to roll the hard six on any ploy that came to mind.

Angry Chick slowed doubtfully, apparently considering consequences. I pressed.

"We can have a conversation about public indecency and assault, or...?" Please think rationally you graceless brute?

"Or what, you stupid fucking cocksucker?" Is cocksucker more or less offensive in reference to a lesbian?

"Or, we could pretend nothing happened. No violence, no police, no harm and no foul. We never met you, and you never met us." Rub your two brain cells together and take the deal!

"Alright, bitch." She lumbered back across the street, cursing more quietly this time. I hurried the girl along.

"How do you know her parole officer?" She asked in earnest while we waited for the crosswalk. I hadn't ascertained yet whether she was dumb or artless. Turns out that she's really that initially trusting, despite some life experiences that should have jaded her.

"I don't. I lied. I lie frequently. Here's the garage." 

Matt the valet leered openly at what he thought was my "trick" for the evening. He moped away like a deprived child at Christmas when I asked him to just bring my car around. While we waited, I lectured her sternly on being so trusting and compliant - especially with strangers – and reprimanded that her dangerous vulnerability was the fault of her own poor decision-making.

Then she willing got into my car.

Apparently my words had affected her though. She folded her hands in her lap and hung her head again, honey-golden brown eyes staring unseeing at my glove box. My glove box where I kept hand cuffs, vibrators, a pussy whip, a gag...

Yes, I still wanted to fuck her. Even disheartened and distraught, she emanated sexy. Nonetheless - depraved as I am - I wasn't going to take advantage of this helpless girl and tried to keep my lust hidden. 

Unfortunately, the only two things that I can comfort sad girls with are physical intimacy or chocolate.

"You want to go out for some frosty chocolate milkshakes?"

She smiled at me.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My girlfriend's alarm wakes me. I hate her alarm. And my bottom hurts.

She kisses my cheek before she leaves me. And she tells me to use the salve. I do and doze off again.

~~~I wake back up when I hear the shower. That gets me out of bed. I hustle into the bathroom. Shower sex!

My girlfriend is shampooing her hair. I wait for her to invite me in. She has long beautiful hair and legs. Her breasts are full and round. She keeps her pubic hair trimmed neatly. She likes mine to be shaved. I love her. I get impatient and say good morning.

"Good morning, my little naiad. Wanna get wet?" She holds out a hand to draw me in the large shower. I step inside. She hugs me into her wet body. I enjoy a good morning makeout in her arms. Then she cleans me up.

She washes my hair. Her hands are skilled. She gently massages the shampoo into my scalp. My eyes are closed against the soap. I feel her bring some bodywash to my side. I giggle when the cold tickles me. She laughs at that.

She's a bit more serious soon. I hear her turn off the handheld shower nozzle she was using. (There are two handhelds and several bodysprays. It's a big shower). She circles me and gets every inch with a washcloth. My body is completely washed from my forehead to my toes. She pauses behind me before touching my privates. She brings one arm under my boobs and holds me steady.

"How do you feel this morning, Little Naiad? Is your ass still sore?" She cares about me.

"It's not bad." I answer. It hurts, but I can live with it. Definitely worth it.

"Hmmmm," She slides a finger part way in. I moan. She wriggles her finger a bit. I feel it jolt deep in my pussy and moan more. "My dear girl, I believe those are moans of lust. Are we slightly more favorable toward backdoor play?" She presses her whole finger in. My knees buckle, but she has me.

"Yes. I like it." She removes the finger. Then she brings the washcloth between my legs and finishes washing me. I hear her walk back in front of me.

"Mmmmm. Good girl. I'll file that away. Meanwhile, you left something unfinished last night?" She puts pressure on my shoulders. I go to my knees on the padded rubber mat.

She places a hand on top of my head. I hear the water come back on. A cold blast hits my boobs. I gasp and shiver. My nipples are sensitive, so the cold is nearly painful. She turns the spray away instantly. She pets me with the hand on my head.

"I'm sorry, Kitten. Evidently the water had time to get cold. Hold on a sec and I'll...*evil chuckle*." The water warms, but I shiver again. I know that chuckle. That chuckle means my girlfriend thought of something wicked she's going to do to me.

It's never right away. I always have to wonder what she'll do. Her mood changes right away though. The hand on my head grips my hair. All the soap gets rinsed off me and warm spray hits me from all sides.

I can finally see again. A fiendish glint flashes in my girlfriend's green eyes. 

"Eat me." I dive into her red curls. She smells like lavender. She tastes like honey butter. I lick the inside of her petals and gather the sweet fluid. She's not in the mood for slow love.

"Deeper." She uses her grip on my hair to press my face tighter against her. I start licking faster and then plunging my long tongue as deep inside her as I can.

"Good girl, good girl. Keep going! Don't you dare stop, you darling little coquette!" I can tell she's close. She breathes really fast and moves her hips. She fights not to grind my face. I try to follow her movements and please her. 

"My clit, suck my clit!" I try. She's moving very fast. I manage to suck and lick to her rhythm.

She growls loudly when she cums. It's the sexiest sound in the world.

She also squirts every time on her first cum. Her hand keeps my head in place and I eagerly swallow and slurp. The taste is the same, but much stronger. She keeps pressed against my face through her cum. I'm careful to keep a mouthful.

She kneels facing me. She kisses me lovingly and aggressively. The taste of herself in my mouth turns her on more.

"Very good girl. I should be sated enough to play with you safely again now. Lay down on your back, Little Naiad." I lay full out on the matt and watch her. She adjusts the water to a very fine mist. A very hot fine mist. Some falls on me. Most just becomes steam. 

She steps out and does something with her phone for a minute. Although the mist doesn't burn, my body temperature goes through the roof. I lay writhing and sweltering.

She's back and smiling at me villainously. I quiver in response. I'm not scared of her or what she'll do. My girlfriend would never hit me or even call me names. She could. I wouldn't stop her. But she wouldn't really hurt me or let me be hurt. She just likes to...

She's on top of me before I can figure out my feelings. Her breasts rub against mine and her thatch brushes my thigh. She forces her tongue into my throat. She twists my nipples. Her knee is between my legs, pushing. Then she's biting my lips and jaw. She puts hickeys on my neck and chest. I squirm and whimper beneath her.

Then she flips us. I'm laying on my back on top of her. My bottom rests on her pelvis and my shoulder blades on her breasts. The hot mist coats me directly again. She spreads my legs open with hers. She plants her heels inside my knees to keep them open. Her fingers are in my pussy again, but just teasing me. I'm keyed up enough. I want badly to be filled. I feel like there's a fire in me. It needs to be put out.

"Comfy, Cutie?"

"Yeah, Baby."

"Articulate, Little Naiad. Do you like the water?

"Yes, but it's really hot."

"Do you want to get out and go to bed without cumming?"

"No! No, I want to cum!" I do.

She nuzzles my ear and whispers soothing things I don't understand. As long as she's touching me, I don't care. She takes the unused handheld nozzle and runs it over my cheeks, down my neck, across each of my nipples. It stops at my bellybutton. Cold water gushes out into my bellybutton and over my sides. 

The cold water surprises me. I kick and thrash, but she has my legs open and she's still touching me. The flow moves up my body to my nipples. And it's awesome. She moves the nozzle in figure 8s in rhythm with her fingers pumping in my pussy. Then the water stops and she tweaks and rubs my nipples in rhythm with her fingers pumping in my pussy. The hot mist is still hitting me, but it doesn't feel as intense anymore.

Her hand leaves my pussy. I tense, but she shushes me. Both hands play with my nipples. Then one hand leaves.

"Feel free to scream, my pretty girl." Her voice has the same wicked quality as her eyes, smile, and chuckle.

Freezing water jets into my hot pussy on a pulsing high pressure setting. I try to slam my legs shut but can't. The pressure is so high, I can't even keep my pussy closed. I thrash more, but she keeps me still enough that the nozzle stays on target. I do scream.

After the shock, I start liking it. The jets of water are aimed to hit my g-spot with each pulse. She starts touching me again. I'm so hot everywhere. Even my pussy doesn't feel cold itself. It's really hot too, just with cold inside? My screams turn to moans.

She pinches my clit lightly and lets go. Then again. And a third time. On the fourth time she pinches more tightly and holds my clit.

"Try this, Little Naiad."

She turns the nozzle to touch my clit. It feels like a liquid jackhammer. I start screaming again and I feel myself cumming. Quakes roll though me on top of her. I pass out with the intensity for a minute.~~~

I come to. My girlfriend is lifting me to my feet. She has the shower door slid open and all the water turned off except the cold water nozzle. Now it's just a cool spray. She holds me up and rinses me off again.

She puts me in a fluffy terrycloth robe, carries me back, and sits me up her bed. Then she goes to her phone. She grabs a Gatorade from the mini-fridge and tosses it to me. 

I sip it while she dresses. Much less fun than watching her strip. 

Once she's ready for work, she sits next to me on the bed and kisses me. All the fierceness is out of her now. Her kisses are sweet and mellow. She caresses my face and neck and she strokes my hair.

Then her darned alarm goes off again. I really hate it.

"Make sure you drink that whole Gatorade before you go back to sleep, Lazybones. And have another if you're still thirsty at all. I should be home by 6 o'clock. The girls'll be over for poker at 8. Be good, Sweetness. I love you."

"I love you too, Baby."

She kisses my cheek again and leaves for work.

I finish my Gatorade and nap for a bit. Soon I'm not sleepy anymore. I have the day off, so I grab another and wander into my study.

I didn't want a study. I told my girlfriend that. She said, "A woman must have money and a room of her own[.]" I told her that I didn't need a room. She frowned and repeated herself like she was quoting Gandhi or Yoda. I told her that was silly. Then she made me read this really boring book.

Now whenever she speaks in her "it is known" voice, I just nod along. It was a REALLY boring book.

I log into my MMORPG account, but it needs to update. (I am a gamer. I am not ashamed.) I'll tell you about my girlfriend's first time in my apartment while I wait.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That night had been like the lamest real life GTA mission ever. I got better. Surprisingly, I was having a great night. We went to Denny's for milkshakes. My future girlfriend had chatted casually with me about my work, interests, and life history. It felt like a first date. I kind of didn't want her to take me back home. I was having a lot of fun. (Showing this gorgeous and sophisticated woman my tiny studio also worried me. It wasn't dirty or unsafe. It was just a very small single room in a respectable building near work).

On the way to my apartment, she asked about the "angry chick" - Vanessa - from earlier. Did she know where I lived? Did she have my number? Did she know where I work? Did she know my last name?

"Okay. I'm going to take you up to your place. After I leave, you throw the deadbolt and – if she discovers your address - don't let her in for any reason. If she calls, don't answer. Save the voicemails and texts though, because you may need to file a restraining order. Be very careful on your way to work. Make sure someone knows when you leave, what route you're taking, and when to expect you. Generally, be on your guard for a while. I doubt that she'll trouble you, but you should be safe."

"Kay." I didn't want to talk about Vanessa. She was a bad decision. We had only been on one date and only had sex twice. It was missionary style. There was no foreplay. Then she took me to a bar and poured that beer on me. I just wanted to forget her.

"Hey, don't worry. You'll be alright." The charming redhead winked at me. I really liked her. She was take charge and confident. But she wasn't mean. I'd never felt so well cared for before.

She walked inside with me. She took off her shoes after I kicked off mine. Then she turned away and started inspecting my door locks. 

I hung her jacket up and threw away the remains of my tee shirt. Then I slipped out of my skirt. I waited nervously for her to turn around. I hoped I'd please her.

She turned. Her viridian eyes were bright with pure desire when she took in my body. But she closed them. Then she tilted and shook her head, like a horse trying to get rid of flies.

"You need to put clothes on. Now Kiddo." She turned back to the locks again.

I'd never felt so rejected. And hurt. And confused. She told me I was pretty. She helped me. She took me out to eat. She escorted me home. She had been eyeing me all night. But she didn't want me?

"You don't want me?" I said to her back. Crap, that sounded so completely pathetic. She turned around to answer.

"Dammit, I don't have any chocolate." I had no idea what she meant, but she was hugging me. Everything was good again.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and snuggled in close. She held my cheek to the hollow of her neck. She smelled and stroked my hair. She rubbed my back. Then her hands were on my shoulders and gently pushing me away. She looked down at me, not unkindly.

"Of course I want you. You are remarkably attractive, Sweetheart. However, you've also had an emotionally upsetting night and you're probably too shaken up to make smart decisions. You seem like a demure, tractable girl and I don't want to take advantage of your gratitude. So you need to get some clothes on and afterward we can talk for a little while."

I dressed. It's not what I wanted, but – looking back – she was probably right. We sat on my bed and talked. She wrote her cell phone number on her card. She told me to call her in couple days and we'd talk about going on a date.

"Good night, Angel." She said. She touched my cheek. Then she left me.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Weaving through traffic on the 5 to "Brain" by N.E.R.D.S., I'd be a touch late for work. Shower play was worth it. 

There's an accident ahead and a forty minute wait, according to the flashing yellow sign. Sucks for them, but great for me. I call in to work and tell them I'm stuck in the jam on the 5 south.

I'm essentially parked, so I check my work email. Nothing immediate. My personal email has a message with the subject line "check this shit out;)" from Teeg.

Teeg's fucking crazy. She holds down and excels at a job as a software engineer, she's hella funny, and I'd trust her with my life. All that notwithstanding, she's fucking crazy.

She was streaking when we met, and running away from the campus police at UW. "No More Destruction" was scrawled on her back, so I assume she was protesting deforestation or war or whatever. Luckily for her, she's an ardent runner and athlete. She quickly outpaced her fellow protesters and was the only person in sight when I pulled over to let her in. 

"Fuck. Thanks." She's never been traditionally eloquent.

Hard body, spiked purple hair, lots of large cat tattoos. Hot. I looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck. Yeah." Eloquence is overrated.

We went back to my dorm and missed three days of classes having stupefyingly good sex, until she headed out for a mud run. Although we've been friends since and engaged in some group and casual sex together, we don't usually do anything more than swap war stories. I suspect one's on the video she sent me.

She's much more into hardcore BDSM than I am. That may be subjective. I absolutely enjoy the D/s portion, granting that I don't ritualize it as much as might be considered customary. (No judgment, I just like the control without the rigidity.) Bondage and S&M elements are arousing or utilitarian for me as they contribute to the control. If you think of BDSM as an XYZ matrix, I'm deep in the VI octant.

Teeg would be deep in the III octant. She doesn't care much about dominance (switch) and will use bondage as a restraint to senses or movement, but doesn't elevate it to an art. (Again, no judgment, just not my thing or hers). She is very into sadomasochism. 

Fair warning then, you may not want to read the next part. I'm not entirely sure I want to see it.

~~~The video opens on mostly naked Teeg flashing rock gestures and sticking her tongue out like the lead singer in KISS. (Her hair is green this week.) She's wearing a 10+ inch strapon. She steps back and a second woman becomes visible. 

The second woman is tied spread eagle to a horizontal surface that isn't a bed. Based on the muffling on her voice, I'm guessing she's wearing a muzzle gag. It's hard to tell, because she's definitely hooded. The blindfold portion of the leather hood is open and her brown eyes dart all over the room, particularly to the camera and something out of frame on the right. She has a death grip on a small rubber toy in her right hand. (A safety object, I'm guessing.)

The camera zooms in on her body. There are weighted clamps on her nipples, labia, and clit. The bindings on her wrists and ankles are leather cuffs with d-rings attached to loose nylon ropes. She can partially sit up, partially roll to her sides, or partially lift her lower body, but not any two at once. 

The camera zooms back out and is placed on a tripod. Teeg lopes to the leather table and begins tickling the bound woman. She pitches and rolls, chest heaving and clamps tugging on the most vulnerable points of her body. 

Teeg, either satisfied with her work or bored with that stage, walks back to the camera and zooms out to see both the bound woman and a fondue pot filled with caramel syrup. Teeg jumps in the shot. She dips her hand in to the wrist and holds it for about three minutes, gritting her teeth but not in much pain. When she removes her hand, sticky caramel drips down her wrist. The hand itself is red, but doesn't look scalded.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 02



She stalks back over to the bound woman and bends near her hooded head. She must be saying something disturbing, because the brown eyes go wide and cuffed limbs yank instinctively at their bonds. She doesn't drop her safety object though. Teeg closes the blindfold.

She fills a plastic cup halfway with the caramel and drips it on the bound woman. It causes her to judder and wince. She lurches away from the hot liquid when it hits her, which – unsurprisingly – causes the weights to bounce and pull cuttingly on her nipples, labia, and clit.

Teeg soon tires of this stage as well and returns the cup. Then she dunks about 7/8ths of her strapon into the hot caramel. She trots back to the lower end of the bound woman before it can cool.

Teeg deliberately detaches the labia and clit clamps in rapid succession. Then – with no other preamble – Teeg drives the hot caramel-coated strapon into the bound woman as the blood rushes back into her clit and labia and they're at their most sensitive and painful. How the bound woman not only likes it, but has the presence of mind to clutch her safety object as her whole body locks in a girder of exquisite gratification, is beyond me.

Teeg's banging away, but~~~ it looks like the traffic is proceeding again (albeit at a snail's pace) and she can go for quite a while. I'll send it to download to my home computer and watch the rest later.

I don't get why some people enjoy pain and degradation, but I do like to accommodate. Maybe not so much the pain part. Well, there was the night I met my girlfriend.

I'll tell you about it while I fight my road rage.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Nic grinned like a jackass, pointing and laughing at me when I walked back into Cherry Girls' Bar.

"1am and trolling here again. White Knight never gets laaaaaaaaaaid."

I told Nic to go fuck herself after she brought my Jamesons and ginger ale. Somehow it was less embarrassing to let Nic think that I'd made a pass and failed than to tell her that I had chose not to sleep with the girl, even when she legitimately and literally asked for it. I found it tremendously disconcerting myself. I'd rejected a captivating prospect – ready and willing – because of effective moral reservations. Did I actually tell that delicious girl that I wouldn't fuck her, but she could call me for a date in a couple days? Why? The Icebox doesn't get crushes, right?

I decided that I just needed to get my head right. Some uncomplicated, unscrupulous anonymous sex and I'd be right as rain. Just then Garfunkel and Oates' "This Party Took a Turn for the Douche" came on. Little on the nose, but excellent advice. Now to find the biggest ho in this room.

~~~It wasn't a long search. The skank at the end of the bar looked perfect. She had large fake boobs and ass cheeks visible below her six-inch purple cheetah print micromini. (Her five-inch heels were the classier regular cheetah print.) She was wearing purple eye shadow and lipstick to match, but pink saloon nails that matched nothing. Her shirt was a midriff-baring button-up tank that showed her tramp stamp and both her naval and nipple rings. (I rightly guessed that her tongue was also pierced, both tip and stud.) Pretty face, except a long pointed nose and chin, which I liked. Two inch leather dog collar, which I could like, but wasn't sure about. Excellent, I wouldn't even have to bother with the pretense of a seduction.

She finished her frou-frou drink in a gulp when I got to her eyes. I continued to stare. She stood from her stool and thrust out her chest, I suppose on the off-chance that I hadn't noticed them or didn't fully appreciate them. I kept staring until she gave up and ordered herself another.

I winked and walked off. 

I came up directly behind her from the crowd, bringing my arm around her to play with her naval ring while I jammed my strapon against the crack of her ass through her skirt and squeezed her against the bar. 

I shot her drink. Curiously, nothing throws a pretty girl off like taking her drink.

"Do you always drink weak garbage? You'd better be able to take something stronger." I spoke directly into her ear. I also started tugging her nipple ring.

"I *breath* can *breath* take stronger."

"Then order." I was virtually milking her with both hands and rolling my hips into her ass.

"What...what should aahhh-I order?"

"Damn. You're lucky you have a nice rack, huh? Order a strong drink." I eased up briefly so she could order.

"I want a strong drink, please?"

Nic handled the order without speaking. Her eyes couldn't not twinkle though. I knew it was a shot of Everclear and Absinthe in Five Hour Energy, with enough sugar to cover all three. Purple Cheetah took a sip.

"You'd better fucking swallow it and keep it down."

"It's so gross." She finished it.

"Really? You're gonna whine like a bitch about it? Fucking order another."

Nic put another in front of her. Purple Cheetah downed this one like a trooper.

"That one better?"

"Yeshss." I'm sure she can't think straight between the teasing and the alcohol, but she's not sufficiently wobbly.

"Order another."

"hWhy?"

I found her unprotected labia piercings and gave an exploratory jerk.

"Because it's what I want, bitch." She shakily ordered again. I got back to her nipple piercings.

Nic waited after the last shot, so I knew that was the fill line.

"Pay your tab." She drew out a Mastercard. I took hold of her labia piercings again and rasped them in concert. Purple Cheetah dropped her card and made picking it back up look like an Olympic event; Tipsy Slut Squats in Fuck-Me Heels. Eventually, she figured out paying.

Nic returned her card and hands me a Creamy Bush (not being ironic, most of the cocktails are themed), then loudly announced that she was done bartending for the night and would be back at close out. Just like I knew what was in the shots, I knew Nic was going to her office to watch the CCTV of the booths.

I led Purple Cheetah to my booth at the back of the bar. There was some zigzagging through the crowd to get there, but I had her by her nipple ring and there was no fear of my letting go. I was definitely enjoying the hardware.

I sat and waited for her to err by attempting to sit down next to me. I slapped her ass, fairly hard. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting down-"

"Slut, you know what you're here for. Get under the table."

She smiled as a basket of chips and slipped under the table.

I scooted deep into the booth. With a practiced motion, I lowered my jeans around my knees and partially detached my strapon. She crawled to me and I lifted my legs over her shoulders. I crossed my ankles and encased her head tightly between my thighs. 

I sipped my drink and enjoyed her work, Halestorm's "Mz Hyde" playing in the background. I quickly realized that Purple Cheetah had no idea what the hell she was doing, however - as buzzed and hot as I was – a tongue in my snatch couldn't help but feel good. Even if it was by accident rather than design, her swirling tongue piercings were building me haphazardly toward orgasm.

Last call came pretty quick though and I wanted to finish. I killed my drink and got a good handhold on her hair. 

"Stick out your tongue and stiffen it." She didn't respond immediately, so I squeezed off her air supply for a few seconds until I had her attention. I repeated myself and she complied.

I decided to help her out at first, because it is awkward to hold. Using my cunt muscles, I clinched her tongue in place as I mashed my pussy on her face. She tried reflexively to pull her tongue loose to no avail. The staccato arhythmic results of her wriggling warm wet tongue - both the tip piercing and barbell - were marvelous; far better than her deliberate efforts.

Almost immediately, her tongue was fixed and hard. I pistoned up her face over and over, using her long pointed nose to stimulate my clit. Between my "creamy bush" and her saliva, the motion was smooth and swiftly sliding. I ground into face as hard and fast as I could from a sitting position, enjoying the penetration of flesh and metal. Her head stayed secure in the vice grip of my thighs with only my grip on her hair shifting her in cadence to my grinding to produce maximum friction.

I felt myself getting close and knew I would ejaculate. Spreading my thighs slightly, I pulled her head away from my pussy. Fuck, she was going to look good with a facial. 

Her look of shock when I sprayed her was priceless.

Not that one orgasm stopped me. I'd just got back to rocking on her tongue when the bar began closing and patrons were being ushered out into the world. Irritated, I redressed and grabbed Purple Cheetah's collar to drag her out from under the table. Evidently, I did like it.

"C'mon, we'll take my car." 

"Wait, I need to clean up first."

"Why bother? Everyone here already knows that you're a whore. Besides, I'm not done using your face yet..."




Readers: Tried to acknowledge comments and use direction. Open to more and suggestions. Writing may be slow, because I have a fairly demanding day job.



My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 03



Continuation of "My GF; Fucking & How We Met" and not recommended as a standalone work.

Fictional story containing graphic lesbian sex.

Sex sections are bookended with "~~~" again.

Quick recap: Leading slutty pierced chick in purple cheetah skirt from Nic's girl bar in Seattle to my car after receiving oral to clear my head of the lovely blonde girl I helped... 

*

I did relent and lend her the pocket square to clean the cum off her face before we walked out. Partially because I'm really not quite that much of an asshole, but mostly because she already looked like a whore between the miniskirt, 5" heels, makeup, and crop top. Nic stepped out and toasted me as we left. I told her fuck off again, pretty sure she just had.

I led the chick quickly to the parking garage, where Matt the valet nodded appreciatively and apprehensively. 

"Hey Matt, can I get my keys from you?" I was more than ready to get to the elevator.

~~~"Hell yeah," He grinned wolfishly with this confirmation of my intentions after the earlier tease of when I brought the blonde girl home, and handed me the keys to my convertible.

"You should tip him," I said to the drunken slut beside me.

"I don't have any money."

"Give him your thong then, slut. You won't be needing it."

She blushed scarlet, but immediately wrapped an arm around my neck for balance and shimmied out of one of the tiniest thongs I'd ever seen. Even it was leopard print. She handed it to a delighted Matt with a sheepish grin and I led her to the elevator.

It was an old-fashioned 8' by 8' cage elevator that we rode to the third floor before I hit the lock button to keep the door closed. The muzak version of "The Wanderer" by Dion and the Belmonts played over the elevator speakers.

"Assume the position." She grabbed the cage door with each hand and stuck out her ass, clearly understanding what was wanted of her.

I stepped behind her and pressed three fingers inside her pussy with no resistance. She was wet as a spring rain.

I unzipped and pulled out my nine inch strapon and smoothly slid four inches into her loose vagina before she tightened drastically further in. I pulled back a bit, then used a grip on her nipple rings for leverage to slowly insert four more inches (my jeans buffer the last half inch). I could feel her stretching to accommodate the strapon, so I was careful keep the last half inch out. 

Unfortunately for me, she was so very loose that the base of the strapon didn't consistently stimulate my clit no matter what angle or speed I tried. What choad had this woman been fucking? I gave up after a few minutes and pulled out. I could fix it at the car, but wanted to get off right away.

"Please, don't stop? I didn't cum yet." She turned her head and whined to genuinely object to my stopping.

"I don't really care, do I, bitch? Suck me off." I answered tactfully and backed up to the wall of the elevator.

She turned and dropped to her knees in front of me, taking the head of the fake cock in her mouth. To give her due credit, her technique looked like it probably felt outstanding. She swirled her doubly pierced tongue over the mushroom end and ran it up and down the underside of the shaft. I'm sure that I'd be utterly thrilled if I had any nerve endings in the strapon, but the fake cock obviously felt none of her spectacular efforts. Fucking straight girls, right? It's any port in a storm that late on a Friday night, but I don't understand the appeal generally.

Naturally, I took hold of her hair and tried to bob her head on the strapon, however her gag reflex kicked in as soon as the tip touched her throat. Seriously, who had she been fucking? What straight chick is that orally talented and can't deepthroat? 

I called her a good slut and told her to lie on her back on the floor. There was no reason to make her feel inadequate. It's not her fault that her boyfriend lacked the equipment and I lacked the patience to teach her. Anyway, I had told her that I wasn't done using her face.

As she settled herself, I unstrapped and de-pantsed over my boots, then straddled her head facing her feet. I grasped the cage door behind me with one hand, leaving the other free to unbutton her top for a view of her large pierced knockers. Her breasts were plainly plastic, but substantial and charming nonetheless. I played idly with one of her nipple rings, then leaned further forward to find I could play with her labia rings too. 

Her tongue actively sought my clit this time and she sucked hard on it right away. Not subtle, but learning. I broke the suction immediately by rising a few inches off her face.

"Use your tongue and keep up with me. I'll tease your tits while you do well and jerk your cunt rings when you don't." 

Abruptly, I lowered myself back to her waiting tongue. She intensified her exertions and had me penduluming back and forth across her. I repeatedly excited myself anally on her sharp nose and clitorally on her sharp chin. Her pierced tongue snaked about inside my pussy, finding and exploiting sensitive nerves as I toyed more and less emphatically with her hardened nipples.

Soon her face was slick with my secretions and I rode astride her like a mechanical bull. Her tongue pulled out briefly to lick among my folds, but I tired of that almost instantly and my hand left her tit and tugged sharply on her labia rings. Just as instantly, her tip and barbell piercing returned to my tunnel. A second tug brought her back when she became too agitated by the index finger drawing her nipple so taut that her hefty breast was lifted off her chest entirely while the thumb and middle finger rubbed the sides of her rubbery nipple. A few minutes later, just my hand moving off her breast as I leaned my weight forward reinvigorated her when she slackened momentarily. Not exactly Pavlov's dog, but damned closed.

My orgasm built steadily and I began bearing down forcefully onto her face, no longer concerned with her nipple or labia rings. She seemed to sense the upcoming event and started thrusting her stiffened tongue into me to the tempo I set riding her face.

I leaned back on my heels, sinking her nose deep in my ass as I erupted in a more powerful than anticipated orgasm and covered her face in my cum again. 

It required a few seconds for me to return to my feet. I was re-strapped and fully clothed (dick out) before she had caught her breath and began to sit up. I stepped over and helped her to feet as well. I think she had expected me to return the favor, but that wasn't going to happen.

Performing oral on either gender doesn't interest me. I do get gratification out of being the one who makes a paramour come that way. But when a quick trick will let me fuck her any way I please, giving head doesn't make the list. In fact, although I liked playing puppeteer with her hardware and wanted her as wet as possible for fucking, any orgasm for her would be incidental to my own. She probably should have masturbated herself earlier, but was new to cunnilingus and mayn't have had the concentration required for both.

I buttoned up her top before I led her by her collar into the third level parking lot. Not for the sake of her modesty, but so her nipple piercings wouldn't scratch my paint job. The garage is poorly lit enough to be pretty concealed in and of itself, but I also knew that no other customers were allowed in the parking lot. 

My coming in was a deal I'd worked out with Matt -- and Warren who worked Friday nights too -- in exchange for respectable tips and occasional souvenirs. I imagine they've both watched and wanked off as well, but I don't especially care. Aside from them, complete privacy. But she didn't know that and, since exhibitionism and the risk of being caught both apparently turned her on, I didn't disabuse her of her misconception.

"The black Jaguar with the top down is mine. Bend over the hood and hold onto the windshield wipers." I had a few items to gather from the glove box.

"Here? We aren't going to your place?" Her sham objection and thrilled tone were duly noted.

"Bitch, I said we were going to my car, not to my home. Now bend the fuck, over the fucking hood, and fucking hold, the fuck onto, the fucking windshield wipers." 

Legs spread wide, she beamed back at me from across my hood while I reached in and unlocked my glove box. I wrapped two snap buns on the base of the strapon. (They're hair accessories, soft and thick enough to take away that last half inch.) I brought back a very thick -- but short -- butt plug and a set of lined cuffs. Then I kicked her feet further apart to keep her literally and figuratively off-balance.

I brought each of her arms behind her back and cuffed her wrists together with no complaints. She made the same show of balking when I rolled her skirt up over her tramp stamp.

"What's wrong? Afraid someone will see you? Ass out, cuffed, getting fucked from behind in a public garage? Maybe someone who'll recognize you? And tell your boyfriend what a whore you are?" 

"Yeah," She breathed out, licking her lips. Sober it may have been a real fear, but -- in her tipsy state -- being caught by an acquaintance appeared to be a fantasy.

After lubricating the plug in her still dripping pussy, I rather unceremoniously pegged it into her willing ass to her surprise and enjoyment. Of course the purpose was my enjoyment, to tighten her pussy foyer so I'd feel the pressure of my end of the strapon seated snugly against my clit. The oral had been fun, but I really needed to fuck somebody.

I lined up her end of the strapon with the entrance to her pussy and drove it in to the padded hilt. The butt plug produced the desired effect of a formfitting velvet sheath and the snap buns allowed me to fuck her without the worry of stretching her.

I pounded her. 

Her hips bucked back to meet my turbulent thrusts. I rumbled and roared with the pleasure crashing onto my clit. She emitted a sexy mixture of sighs and little grunts, with a steady stream of verbalizations nearly as obscene as the sloppy sloshing sounds of her pussy.

"Oh fuck, so deep, keep, yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck, so fucking deep, fuck, keep fucking me, oh fuck, deep, fuuuuuuck, so, fuuuuuuuck!"

She came almost right away, although I only realized because I felt the dampness seep in through my jeans onto my thighs. I kept sawing in and out of her inviting snatch long after I felt her second orgasm add to the wet spots on my jeans.

I began verbalizing fairly extensively and more coherently as my ardor rose.

"Mmmm, take it! Your slackass boyfriend doesn't fuck you like this, does he? Damn you're good, bitch! Should get better, fucked better all the time! Keep moving your ass! Hooooooooooooh!

My climax overtook me without warning as plunged into her. I waves of pleasure rolled through me and I collapsed on top of her, strapon still inside.

I uncuffed her and brought her arms back above her head, then half-stood and half-laid in her for a fifteen minute break while we both regained ourselves. 3:53 by my watch when I recovered myself. Still time for a bit more, if we could find the energy.

My body was good for at least one more round, but she had consumed considerably more alcohol than me and definitely didn't have athletic sex regularly. Her legs were shaky just lying on the hood of my car. 

Seeing her half naked with the butt plug peeking out was far too tempting and I decided to spank her sexy round ass and her dripping pussy while she rested. An effective way to wake someone back up, no?

I returned to my glove box for a small paddle and a pussy whip. Neither is designed to deliver pain. The paddle is wrapped in a layer of wadding and covered in patent lamb leather, so it makes a loud slapping sound but doesn't hurt much. The pussy whip is a short loaded riding crop, but loaded with foam. So again, loud, but not overly painful. They're primarily useful for increasing blood flow to erogenous zones. Also, the rosy pink color makes me happy.

She'd roused fully on her own by the time I'd picked the toys out. A wide smile with her tongue sticking out slightly told me that she may have needed to be fucked more than I needed to fuck someone.

"Do you like to get spanked?" I held up the paddle and whip questioningly.

"Yeah." She looked back at me, eyes clouded over with lust. Arms free and legs wide, she made no attempt to roll her skirt back down and she wiggled her ass welcomingly at me. I drew the plug about halfway out, so that it was even with her pliant cheeks

I brought the paddle down smartly on her upturned ass. First one cheek, then the other.High on the crevice, then low on the underside to cause a charming jiggle. A gasp of delight punctuated each whack, but a disproportionately large number of the swings landed squarely on the rubber end of the butt plug sticking so provocatively out of her asshole. Each of those swings was punctuated with a passionate moan as the butt plug was gradually hammered back into her quivering backdoor.

My left hand continued the paddling, but I began alternating whip snaps with my more accurate right hand. The first struck directly on her engorged clit, causing her whole body to jump. Following swats hit both of her labia piercings, her taint, and the insides of her thighs as well. 

Her moaning grew more protracted and insistent and she began humping the hood of my car, so I stopped her spanking and leaned in to speak to her again.

"Horny little naughty bitch, aren't you? Turned on by a public spanking right after being publicly reamed. Does your boyfriend know you get picked up by strangers like a whore? Not like a whore, technically. Whores get paid and fucked. You're just getting fucked like a slut, aren't you, naughty bitch?"

"Anything, yes. Please fuck me deep again? PLEASE!?"

"Hmmm...I think I'll make you fuck yourself this time." I chuckled at the lewd plan developing in my dirty mind.

She whimpered, misunderstanding me, but would be enlightened soon enough.

I hauled her off the hood by her collar and over to my passenger side. I unsnapped the hair accessories from my strapon, unbuttoned my fly, and unclasped my thick doubled silver chain necklace, then hopped in my passenger side.

"Straddle my lap, facing me." I shut the door after her, leaned my seat back partially, unbuttoned her top, threaded the chain through her nipple rings, and reclasped the chain.

"Ready to ride, slut?"

I held her balanced over my strapon, just the tip inside her, waiting for eye contact. She nodded and I stopped supporting her weight. She dropped, impaling herself and stretching uncomfortably to take the full nine inches.

"Oooohh! Oh my! Oh shhhhit!" It knocked the wind out of her for a second. Had she just held still for a moment and let her body adjust to the size, she'd have been fine. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun though.

Despite the pleasant physical shock of having her 130 or so pounds of weight concentrated onto my clit, I retained the presence of mind to button my fly over the chain. She instinctively scrambled to lift herself off the lengthy cock - using my shoulders to push up -- and screamed at the apex when she drew tight the chain and pulled hard on her nipples. She only managed to elevate a few inches before thudding back down instantly, and repeatedly repeating the process.

She slammed into me again and again with impossible speed, pounding my clit and making me crazy as she fucked herself on my lap. She lived up to her animal print with the combination of jungle cat noises screeching out of her and her nails digging into my shoulders.

Before long, the excitement became too much for me to remain still and enjoy, so I unbuttoned my fly to release her breasts (I didn't want to risk actually damaging her). I dug my nails into her yielding ass cheeks for longer strokes. Like a madwoman, I pistoned forcefully in and out of her butt plug-tightened pussy, nearly pulling out entirely as I raised and lowered her inversely. Harder and harder, I plowed into her unforgivingly, vulgarly, and hastily. Her pussy had become so saturated by that point that I heard the slopping sounds of her wet sex being penetrated at full tilt.

Her climax came seconds before my own, head thrown back in a primal scream of pleasure. I came violently in my pants once more as images of the blonde girl flashed through my mind's eye. ~~~Somehow that ended my desire acutely. So much for a quick and dirty fuck clearing my head.

I got out of my car with her and made sure she could stand, removed the butt plug and pointed out the bathroom to her. At 5:21, she should have been sober enough to get on with her life.

"You can get cleaned up in there. Just go down and wait with one of the valets. A car will be along shortly to take you home." I was already back in the driver's seat. 

(After Mrs. Quentin's son's last DUI, my company now provides free rides for each employee's and their family's use as part of his plea bargain. Only six employees are aware of the benefit, which morphed into a profitable luxury car service. It's a convenient and socially responsible way to take care of a drunken one night stand.)

"That was fantastic. I have a fiancée, but can I get your number so we can meet again?"

"Sorry. I'm strictly catch and release. You were a great lay though. Bye." And I drove away, still thinking of the blonde girl.

I kept driving for hours,listening to Joan Jett, Adele, Eminem, Johnny Cash. No help. I went home, changed and showered, detailed my car, , did two workout cycles, showered again, tried to watch a movie, tried to sleep, tried to read. Nothing got her out of my head.

The most aggravating aspect of my new single-mindedness was its ambivalence. The memory of her honey-golden brown eyes would inspire me to watch out for her in her innocence. Then the mental picture of her sexy, naked body would inspire much baser ambitions.

Sometime after 4pm, a text interrupted my pacing and brooding.

"where r u? u missed tennis. we,re @ nic,s 4 charity. B HERE!" Melody's texting style maddens me, but I had completely forgotten Dr. Hartford's "Seattle Mental Health" charity event. 

We usually all went out somewhere on Saturdays (chosen by the winner of Tuesday's game night), but that week we were supporting Nic. (She gets a bit daunted by formal occasions.) Except Adrianne, who actually had to attend as one of Seattle's preeminent shrinks; Anne, who'd left for a six month stint with NOAA the week before; and Teeg, who was specifically and firmly not invited. So really just Melody and I were there supporting Nic. Whoops.

"Sorry, distracted. En route." I tossed a cocktail dress and some black slingbacks in my backseat and headed out to the Gin Blossoms' "Whitewash" blaring out my speakers. 

Dr. Hartford lives with Nic at her huge hereditary home/mansion on Capitol Hill, a perfect place for Seattle's medical and general elite to hobnob under the pretense of fundraising for mental health.

Assuming the good doctor to be crazed, I let myself in the back and ran upstairs to Nic's room. 

"Where have you been, o tardy one?" Melody is pretty much always nice, but hiding pissed behind playful in this case.

"I just lost track of time, Melody. I'm sorry, Nic." 

"Doing what?" Melody countered, unwilling to let it go. 

Melody and I developed a friendship as dormmates at UofW. (I wanted more and hit on her relentlessly that first semester. She's 5'8", with chocolate eyes, hair, and skin, and built like a swimsuit model. She remains decidedly straight though, so now I just hit on her habitually.) She practices law as well - but as a prosecutor specializing in domestic violence cases -- and keeps me in line as one of my best friends. 

"Thinking about the girl from last night, okay?" I wasn't ready to discuss feelings I didn't understand, but Melody and Nic are the sharing kind and would pounce on any evidence of emoting from me.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 03



"That slutty chick? Are you afraid she gave you syphilis?" Nic looked up in surprise.

"No, not her.The blonde."

"Ah, the one that got away, huh?" Nic smirked.

"What's this? Don Juanita struck out?" Melody joined in on the mocking.

"Not exactly." I told the story as we dressed.

"So, you picked her up in a bar, ate dinner with her, went back to her place, and left her with a hug? You're a tease." Nic laughed.

"Hey, don't take away the only noble thing she's ever done. Even if it was absurd and dense." Melody defended me.

"I am not a tease! And what made it absurd and dense? I chose not to take advantage of a nice girl." I defended myself more accurately.

"Take advantage? Nice girls like sex too, and she wanted to have sex with you. So the poor thing probably masturbated about you, while you slept with Miss Syphilis, Seattle." Nic apparently did not feel a need to defend me.

"Better to sleep with her and leave her in the morning?" I went down swinging.

"No, you great idiot. Better to sleep with her, buy her flowers in the morning, and bring her here tonight." Nic retorted and hit me on the nose with a rolled up magazine like a misbehaving dog.

"Nic, she's never had a girlfriend, probably never been on a real date. Flowers might be a stretch." Melody's defenses were not making me feel better.

"How? She's 27. And a lesbian," Nic exclaimed, shocked, "How can you have never had a girlfriend?! You're 27! And gay!" Nic shouted my age and orientation at me, as if realizing would make me girlfriend material.

"Easy, Nic. She's like an emotionally retarded guy. Complete hound dog. I think it's the being abandoned as a baby thing. You have go slower." Melody asserted compassionately.

(I should explain. My baby police report reads, "Newborn Babygirl Doe. Abandoned at fire station.Red hair.Parents unknown." Melody assumes that I must hate the uncaring mother who abandoned me. Quite the contrary, I'm grateful to a woman who -- lacking the wherewithal to care for me herself -- placed me in the care of others instead of aborting me, tossing me in a dumpster, or raising me in privation. Explaining that gratitude to the child of a nuclear family like Melody has proven impossible, so she blames my mother whenever I act insensitively.)

"I am not emotionally retarded!" My friends' casual insults got to me.

"You slept with my mom. The day you met her. In my bed," Melody reminded me.

"I keep telling you, my sheets were used. I should have done your mom on dirty sheets?" I stayed very considerate with her aggressively sexual mom.

"You shouldn't have slept with your roommate's mom! You great idiot." Nic answered and hit me with the magazine again.

"Water under the bridge, Nic. What's your plan?" Melody's practicality again came to the fore.

"I've formed an infatuation for a nice girl, clearly. I intend to ignore it and be a friend to her," I answered.

Nic and Melody both laughed at that.

"You are constitutionally incapable of not having sex with an available girl that you find attractive. That's like a cobra befriending a mouse." Melody answered first, still half-laughing.

"I get the impression that she's been treated horribly, a lot. I don't want to be someone who hurts her even more." I answered sincerely. 

My eyebrows knitted as I frowned over my dilemma. Both Melody and Nic paused for a moment quizzically and ceased laughing when they saw my honest internal struggle. Then each friend hugged me in turn.

"You are a great idiot." Melody sighed affectionately.

"You also might be right," Nic continued, getting more serious, "If you can't even commit to dating her, you should probably stay away. C'mon, we have to go make nice at the party. Let's figure out your issues with Adrianne later."

Issues? Despite Nic's disbelief, I had logical reasons for having never dated. They were selfish reasons, but not psychotherapy-worthy.

I spent junior high and high school at an all-girl boarding school - where I stole my first kiss from Angela Watson at twelve and lost my virginity to Victoria Kelving's strapon at fourteen - but certainly couldn't openly date. I enjoyed my freedom (with guys too, definitely not a gold star lesbian) too much to date as an undergrad and was too harried to date as a grad student.

I developed a habit of picking up different girls anonymously a few times a month while earning my JD and MBA. The habit continued for my first few hectic years as a full-fledged lawyer and I guess I never really adjusted my behavior. 

Huh. Emotionally retarded after all? Damnit, my friends were right. 

A series of forced pleasantries with strangers at Dr. Hartford's "Seattle Mental Health" charity event overlaid my depressing thoughts and heavy drinking. One of them was the slutty chick from the night before on the arm of a short, fat, bald something-ologist. Neither of us showed any sign of recognition during our introduction and afterward we each just moved to the next disinterested stranger to engage in more mendacious small talk. 

Nevertheless, it drove home the point. I spent my entire romantic history siphoning easy sex and never gained any relationship skills. I had no idea how to be with a sweet, caring person.

I got pretty deep in my cups after that. 

By 2am, all the guests had been shown out. Adrianne and Melody had left. I wasn't competent to stand, let alone drive. Nic found me half-asleep in an armchair.

"Alright, let's get you upstairs." Nic hauled me to a guest room and laid me in bed.

"I really like her, Nic, and I don't wanna be a great idiot anymore. Help me?" I spilled out, on the verge of crying.

"Honey, you are making this too hard. When she calls you, you invite her to dinner and a movie. Then go. Take care of her like a lover, but love her the way you love your friends. It's not that hard." Nic tucked me in and met her girlfriend in the hall. 

"Is your lawyer friend okay, Darling?" Dr. Hartford seemed genuinely concerned, touching.

"She's just lovesick." 

"I sympathize. Goodness knows where I'd be without you, Nicole."

I fell asleep wanting a relationship like that.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My game was taking for-fraking-ever to update. No patience. I watch an episode of The Irresponsible Captain Tylor, and check again. The update timed out entirely. 

I run downstairs to my girlfriend's office to cycle the router. Of course I knock it over behind the desk first and have to fish it out. I'm sort of naturally klutzy. But then I have it unplugged and cycling.

I glanced at her laptop during the thirty second wait. Not snooping, I swear. Just easily distracted.

There's an email from Teeg with an attachment. Teeg's wild! It's bound to be a video of her doing something crazy. My girlfriend showed me clips of her jumping off cliffs, hang-gliding, MMA fighting, and other adrenaline junkie stuff.

I give in to temptation and open the video. It's awful and it's freaking me out. That poor hurt woman. What's Teeg doing? And why?

Teeg says something to her. She looks so scared. Then Teeg closes the eye hole and starts pouring hot stuff on her while she tries to get away. And then it gets even worse...

I shut my girlfriend's laptop. Then panic.

What if my girlfriend wants...that? Is...that... what we're building to? Can I-?

*I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that-*

That never works in real life.

I should be willing to fulfill her fantasies. She does mine. (My girlfriend even roleplayed Alice from "Resident Evil." She totally made fun of me before and after, but she made it hott during.) 

I'll tell you about our first real date to distract myself.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

For two days after she gave it to me, I fingered her card in my pocket like it was Isildur's Bane. I'd never wanted so bad to make a phone call. But she said to wait, and I had already seemed desperate.

Finally, a work day for an excuse. Yah! I called her.

"It's 5:58 on a Sunday morning. Someone had better be dead or you will be," she answered. 

I didn't think about it being so early. Yeesh.

"Um, I'm sorry. No one's dead. It's me...the girl you met at-" Suddenly my tongue went leaden.

"I know who you are, Sweetheart. You've been all I can think of. I'm just all grumpy and hungover from drinking with the girls last night. Forgive me, Sexy?"

She'd been thinking of me! And she called me sexy! Woot!

"Pretty please forgive me?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I forgive you." Have to remember to answer.

"Why thank you. So what's got your cute self out of bed so early?"

"You...um, told me to call someone, if...I mean when I went to work." Ack, nerves.

"I kinda meant family or friends. Someone you've known for more than 72 hours?" 

"I don't have...Ah, I don't have-" I didn't have a non-sad way to finish that sentence.

"Hey, happy to be your safety person, Kitten. Don't worry. Just text me when you arrive. And then why don't I pick you up from work and take you to dinner and a movie?"

"You mean, like a date?" I'm not good at decoding what people mean. I didn't want to be wrong.

"Yes, Cutie.A date. I'd like to take you out on a date tonight, okay?"

"Okay!" I giggled and did my happy dance.

"I'll see you at 7, Pretty Girl."

She hung up. My happy dance continued until 6:05. Then I dashed off to catch the bus. There were still 7 rides left on my pass. Just enough to get me to payday.

My happiness lasted until I changed out of my fun Tigger tee shirt and matching tiger striped pants into my drab, gray, hospital-issue scrubs. (I'm a tech at Seattle Children's in-patient pharmacy.) 

She was taking me out to dinner. All I had to wear looked like pajamas. I didn't have time to get home. All my coworkers are huge compared to me, so I couldn't borrow anything. I wouldn't have any money until that Thursday to buy clothes.

I had no money! What if she expected to go dutch? What could I do? I didn't have any way to sell anything. I'd already donated as much blood as I could that month.

The rest of the day dragged by miserably. 12 hours of me wishing I'd saved back more money and dressed sensibly. I thought I'd messed up everything. Why couldn't I think ahead?

When my shift ended, I put on my stupid Tigger clothes and sat in the waiting room. At 7 on the dot she walked in. My heart sank. Had I already screwed up my chance with the most attractive woman that had ever been interested in me?

She was wearing the same open leather jacket and heeled boots. I could see her yummy breasts in a green bra though her lacy white blouse. Her fitted khaki pants made her hips and long legs look so good. Her gorgeous red hair was loose and wild. It framed her face. It also made her bright green eyes even brighter. 

I jumped up and exploded out an explanation.

"I didn't think about going out when I put this on and I have other clothes at home if you can drive me there then I'll put some on and I don't have any money right now but I can pay you back for dinner and the movie after Thursday I promise. I like your hands-" She tucked my hair behind my ears while I babbled. Then she brushed her thumbs across my cheek bones with her finger tips on the sides of my neck.

Then she kissed me. It was sweet and gentle, and soothed me. Just her soft lips on mine.

"You can wear anything you like and you look adorable tonight. I'm taking you out. Your lips are absolutely perfect." She kissed me a second time, then took my hand and led me to her car. She opened the door for me. Her right hand rested on my thigh while she drove.

"Where are we going?" Not that I cared really.

"Café Paloma. It's Greek food, tapas and such. Then the Seattle Science Center IMAX is showing Jack and the Giant Slayer, if you still feel like a movie after dinner." 

"I heard Jack the Giant Slayer was lame, but I'd love to go with you." 

"Excellent. A distracting movie ruins a night with a beautiful girl." She winked. 

The food was great. She taught me how to pronounce all the Greek names and ask whereall I'd lived. (Just Seattle.) Hummus tastes wonderful. She spread some on my lip, then licked and kissed it off. She asked about my likes and dislikes. We had Turkish coffee (yum!) and biscuits for desert. 

We left in her car for the IMAX. Her hand rested on my thigh again.

She bought the tickets, popcorn, candy, and soda. We sat in the back row with the armrest lifted between us. Her arm wrapped around my shoulder. She pulled me to her. Her fingers teased my hair.

About ten minutes into the movie, she leaned over and licked my ear.

"Do you have any interest in this movie?"

"Not really. But I like being here. With you."

I saw the light of screen gleam off her teeth as she smiled. Then she turned my chin with her knuckles. She brushed back and forth across my lower lip with her thumb. Then she kissed my bottom lip. Then my top lip. Then her tongue slid in my mouth, licked my teeth, and played with mine. She coaxed my tongue into her mouth and sucked lightly on it. Her tongue went back in my mouth and her finger tips grazed my throat. I sucked on her tongue. I felt her smile as I did. 

"Would you like me to take you home now, Sweetness?" She whispered.

I nodded and she drove me home, again her hand on my thigh. 

She walked me up to my apartment, but stopped me outside my door. I expected her to pin me to the wall, roughly. But she spoke softly to me instead.

"I respect that you're a nice girl, so we can wait to get more physical. TTFN won't upset me or change my feelings for you. Just let me know when you're ready, okay?"

"I'm ready," I said as I pulled her inside.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I made it through traffic and to a storm of work on my desk at our corporate office. It was 3:30 before I had all the fires put out and stopped for lunch. By lunch, I mean a deli sandwich my IT gal/supply manager/gofer Sherry picked up on her daily run. 

I'm entirely too much of a control freak to make good use of a secretary, so I hired Sherry instead. She's a cheerful, industrious, overweight, and unattractive woman in her early forties with a BS in IT who's amazingly reliable with everything from making the office coffee to upgrading our computer network.

After seven sexual harassment accusations, me being de facto head of HR, I replaced the remaining corporate office personnel with unappealing married older women. Mr. Henriksen calls them battleaxes, blimps, and bulldogs out of earshot, but between an unattractive staff and some discrete dispensing of call girl and gigolo business cards, we haven't had any more allegations. (I only very rarely hire call girls myself, but occasionally appreciate the professionalism.)

Sherry tosses me my pastrami on ciabatta and an energy drink, then leans in my door frame chortling until I make the phone call. My girlfriend works 7 days on/off at the hospital pharmacy, and I call her every day at lunch on her days off. Sherry says she thinks it's sweet, but in truth gets a kick out of her domineering bitch of a boss being so utterly pussy-whipped. I don't care, I love my girl. 

I throw wrappers at Sherry until she ducks out the door.

"Hey, Playmate. Have you killed a hoard of goblins yet?"

"Hi Baby. No. I had trouble updating the game."

"Did you cycle the router?"

"I went to, but I read your email instead. I'm sorry, Baby." She won't lie, even when she's not sure if I'll be angry. I'm not.

"That's fine, Sweetheart. You can read my email if you like." Frankly, if I had any emails to hide, I certainly wouldn't let her have access. 

"There's a video from Teeg." Oh, shit. I usually don't show Teeg's less savory deeds to my girlfriend for fear they could disturb her or make her uncomfortable around my bisexual and licentious friend. She sounds freaked.

"Are you okay, Kitten?" 

"Yeah, I just...Is that...Do you want to do any of that?" Her voice is terror-laced. Poor baby thinks I'm going to want to use her like that.

"No, Cutie. I've no desire to hood, bind, and clamp some girl to fuck her with a caramel cock. Not my thing. I did watch it, but as a curiosity. Just like when we watched the video of her eating that live spider." My girlfriend's usually fairly calm once I comfort her, but can get a bit spun up and fixated now and then.

"The spider thing was gross too. Can you come home?" It must have really bothered her.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. I love you."

"Thank you, Baby. I love you too." She exhales, assuaged.

I hang up and drop by Mr. Dharmraj's office on my way out to let him know my girl needs me. There's only a couple hours until the end of the day anyway and I can stay a bit late tomorrow if needed. I turn on "The Distance" by Cake for the ride home.

Yeah, so I'm pussy-whipped. There are worse things to be.

I have been wrapped around her little finger since the first time we had sex. Apparently the oxytocin or vasopressin or whatever - produced and ignored with every other lover - bonded me to her.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

She nearly dragged me into her place, after I courteously offered to wait like a chump. I meant what I said. That girl had me completely twitterpated. I'd have spent weeks courting her without pushing her, but her ready acquiescence was much preferred. 

If her landlord bothered with a sales pitch, I'm guessing the word "efficiency" figured in heavily. The whole place was maybe 8' by 10' of hardwood floor with just a half kitchen, a portable closet, and a single bed.

I'd time for a visual survey because she seemed unsure of what to do with me once I was inside, other than removing our shoes. I also turned off Britney Spears' "Criminal" from her laptop on a breakfast bar that folded in frontwhat I assumed was the bathroom door. Then I decisively retook the lead.

Pressing her to her front door, I kissed her. My tongue slipped effortlessly into her mouth while my hands moved down to massage the small of her back. Her hands crept up my back and found a home against my shoulder blades. Based on how quickly she picked up kissing techniques throughout the night, (she became exceptionally good at sucking my tongue, a personal turn-on) I guessed she was fairly inexperienced. She's only twenty though, and teachable is better long term than expertise.

Without releasing her yielding lips, I slid her tiger-striped pants off her hips and down her thighs until they dropped to the floor. I stopped kissing her long enough to get her Tigger shirt over her head. 

Looking down, her sports bra and panties were Tigger-themed as well. The outfits are fine and even cute, but that needed to go. I felt enough like a cradlerobber without cartoon little girl underwear.

"Can we turn the lights off, please?" She asked uneasily.

Caring about the person you're about to have sex with, sucks. I should have agreed and kept rolling, but I wanted to be sure that she knew that she had no reason to be embarrassed about her body.

"Why, Pretty Girl? I've seen you naked and you're fucking awesome. " I suckled a bra-covered nipple to distract her while she framed an answer.

"It's not that. And thank you. I just need the lights off because, I just do. Um, is that okay?" She answered vaguely. I knelt and planted wet kisses on her sharp hip bones. I needed to feed her more too. My fingers glided under her waistband and removed her silly underwear.

"Sweetheart, we can kill the lights if you'd like, but I do wanna see your sexy face when you cum." I nosedived directly into her cute blonde curls. I'd get rid of them too. A shame since they're so soft, but it would make her more sensitive. Her smell intoxicated me. Stopping to talk --again -- was nigh on impossible. 




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 03



But then she began trembling, hard. Damnit. Could nothing be simple with this girl? I took off her bra as I stood back up.

"We need to talk more, huh?" I tried to force eye contact, but she kept looking down and away from me.

"No! I'm fine. Just a bit nervous. We can just turn out the lights." She shook like a leaf in the wind.

"You're not fine, Cutie. Nervous with anticipation is enticing, but I don't want you scared. So tell me." I wrapped her in a bear hug, somewhat frightened myself.

"You won't like me anymore if I tell you," she said to the inside of my shoulder.

"Silly Girl, the sex is happening, unless you give me a flat no." Even if she'd set the building afire, I was having her, "'I used to be a man,' 'I technically still am a man,' 'I have a horrible scar from where I used to be a man,' or 'I'm a Republican' aren't dealbreakers. If you're still married, about to be deported, or have committed a federal offense, a bribe will have you free and clear inside a week. Just let me know what's worrying you. So we can get to the fun part?" I petted her hair and rubbed her back.

"I can't cum," she admitted, shamefaced. She cringed against me, waiting for the hammerblow to fall. Waiting for me to give her some preemptive break up line and leave.

Not the hangup I'd expected, but I wasn't going to leave. (In a later conversation, I learned that she'd planned to fake an orgasm and hoped I wouldn't notice in the dark.) Nothing short of a pack of angry dogs would have kept me off her.

Now, modern experts agree that most women don't cum consistently from vaginal intercourse and some can only cum from oral or manual stimulation, however is there any way to conclusively prove that a particular woman in good health can't cum? That the right mix of watching penguins while wearing latex and hanging upside down eating an orange just hadn't been found yet? A sensual woman of twenty who'd only had three sexual partners certainly shouldn't be demarcated as anorgasmic.

If I wasn't careful though, our erotic evening could quickly devolve into a sex therapy session. I decided to work off the assumption that her past lovers were either selfish or inept, and see what a consummate lover could do for her. Although I don't understand the allure of virgins or proselytizing straight women, knowing that I'd be the source of this sweet, sexy woman's first orgasms was something beyond enticing. 

Sue me, I'm cocky.

"Do you enjoy sex, Kitten?" I asked, neutrally.

"Yes. I just-" I didn't let her finish.

"No pressure, then. It's okay if you don't cum, this time or ever, as long as it's pleasurable." She nodded into my shoulder and I upturned her hopeful elfin face. ~~~"So *kiss* let's *kiss* just *kiss* fuck *kiss*." She beamed at that, her lissome face radiating relieved happiness.

I put her hand on my jacket zipper and unzipped it with her fingers. She took the cue and began undressing me, all excited like an addict with a chance to score. I liked the idea of being her drug.

She had me down to my skivvies in moments. Her breathing became audible when she freed my breasts from my green demi-cup bra.

"Can I-" I brought her lips to my breast and ran my hands through her silky blonde hair.

"You can enact any thought you like, Sexy." My breathing became audible too as she suckled my nipple lovingly. I held her tightly to me and encouragingly pressed my chest forward to get my nipple further into her mouth. Her small wet tongue circled and flicked my nipples while sucking and she left adoring kisses back and forth across the valley between. Her nimble fingers cupped and squeezed in tandem with her tongue. For minutes, I took a passive role, just letting her explore. My head lolled back and my heart pounded. Definitely wouldn't need to teach her breastplay.

I just patted the top of her head and she dropped to her knees on the hard floor, so I knelt in front of her and placed my folded jacket beneath her knees. I found her lips again and held her in a languorous french kiss, before rising to my feet and leaning against her door.

Her thumbs hooked into the waistband of my green frilly boyshorts and I slipped out of them, so that she had fully disrobed me. I spread my legs and bent my knees slightly for her. 

She subverted my expectations once more. After her exhaustive attentions to my breasts, I thought she'd spend forever licking and exploring. I was prepared to endure (and to be honest, enjoy) her exploration, but because of her attentions to my breasts, I was already highly aroused and nearly ready to cum. I am not patient as a rule, and was agreeably surprised when her moist pink tongue stabbed at once through my curly red pubes into my pussy.

With shocking speed, she found my clit and sucked like a hoover. Not through the hood, but passed it straight to my clit with no warning. Her mouth on me felt amazing! But I also felt like she needed a warning.

"Good, good girl! Fuck! Ah! I'm gonna cum! I, I squirt when I cum, and damn, I'm gonna! Garrrrrrrrrr!" I kept her nymphet face pressed to my pussy as I growled through my orgasm. Then I slumped down the door onto my ass, legs still spread. She continued to lick up my nectar, even after a dispirited attempt from me to push her off. 

Soon I became re-aroused, producing more liquid for her to lick up. Her oral movements focused and her tongue alternated between prolonged strokes along and inside my slit and quick flicks to my clit and taint. 

"Keep licking me...Little nymph...So damned talented... Ahhhhhh."

My hips rolled with her as a powerful - but calm - climax built and broke with the wet and quiet force of the ocean hitting a jetty. I sighed as she persisted in lapping at my pussy. That time I was rather resolute about pushing her puckish tongue away.

I offered her solace by way of a kiss, dragging her body up mine and tasting myself in her mouth.

"You are amazing, Kitten. Very talented. A bit assertive too. Mmmm." We went on kissing lazily until I got my second wind.

"Your turn, Sexy." I carried my waif to her bed, laid her down on her back, and laid full length across her. We made out like that for a time, dueling tongues with her the clear and contented loser. 

I held her hands above her head, interlocking our fingers. Then her slim wrists were held with one hand while I used the other to caress her ethereal face. I released her to prop myself up on an elbow and gently cup her chin to deepen the kiss. She tried to move her arms down once, but I told her no and kissed her again.

My kisses covered her pretty face, shapely ears, creamy throat, proud collar bone, perky breasts, well-formed arms, flat tummy, firm thighs, and smooth ankles. I worked back up and down her alluring body while she sighed, most intent upon her firm, supple young breasts. Rosy pink flawless nipples hardened at my touch, extending into my warm and welcoming mouth. I kept playing with her breasts until the naïve girl's sighs turned to whimpers.

"Roll onto your belly, Sweet Girl."

I slowed things down by kissing her slender neck, feminine shoulders, curving back, delightful ass, sensitive knee joints, and springy calves. Kneeling by the foot of her bed, I took each toe in my mouth and affectionately sucked them one by one. She squealed and wriggled, unused to such caring attention and growing arousal.

"Roll back onto your back, Sweet Girl. Do whatever you like with your hands, but keep your legs spread wide for me." I laid back across her and kissed her open, panting lips.

She giggled as I tickled her mons, then groaned as I caressed her labia. She seemed wet and ready.

I inserted two fingers slowly into her very tight pussy and began fingerbanging her tenderly while teasing her clit out from under its hood. Her hips rocked up and down with my probing fingers and she gasped each time my thumb rubbed against her clit. 

The mewling girl's pelvis bucked more stridently as I curved my knuckles up and in, putting repetitive pressure on her g-spot. 

The new sensations awakened a vibrancy in the angel beneath me. She moved against my hand and my entire body as though willing the experience to intensify to its maximum, to feel what she'd been missing. The walls of her constricting pussy clutched my fingers with each stroke as though it was trying to crack my knuckles in her need. Her belabored breathing was frequently interrupted with appealing interjections of "oh my" and "that's it" that made me strive all the harder to bring her satisfaction.

"Oooh...I think...I think I'm...ahhh...cumming...I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" She screamed, exalted at achieving orgasm and with the orgasm itself. Her body shook through an extended climax, as if her freed body was somehow releasing a portion of every orgasm the beautiful girl had been deprived of in her barren sex life. Her pussy spasmed on my fingers while I gave her a few more strokes to reach the end of her ecstasy.

~~~I kissed her calm, then fed my fingers to her (with a lick of her honey for myself).

"Have you tasted yourself before, Sweetness?" I asked, innocently. She shook her head, still a little too sapped for speech.

"Well, we know you can cum. Boy howdy, you can cum. Moreover, you came from just my fingers in you, so you should be able to learn to masturbate yourself to orgasm as well."

"I don't um...do that."

"You don't touch yourself, Cutie?"

"No. It makes me feel...weird."

"Hmm. You shouldn't have to feel weird, Kitten, but I'm happy to scratch your itch for you when you need it."

"Will you stay here with me? At least for a little while?" Her honey-golden brown eyes looked timorously at me, filled with such vulnerability and yearning.

"Sweetheart, I'm waking up in your bed tomorrow morning and taking you to breakfast and work." I reassured her and she fixed me with her broadest smile.

She snuggled into me and entangled her limbs with mine, with her sweet head tucked below my chin.

"I love you," she confessed sleepily.

"Too soon, Kitten. You don't know me. But I like you very much." I caressed her hair and inhaled my girlfriend's scent.

"G'night, Baby."

"Good Night, Angel."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Note from Nic: Their names are Kay and Jenny. Kayleigh Jane O'Brien is the redheaded corporate lawyer and Jennifer Gabrielle Johnson is the blonde children's pharmacy technician. Fuck this adolescent "my girlfriend" bullshit.

Note to Nic: Fuck you -- Kay, her girlfriend.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I don't really need my girlfriend to rush home, but I love it when she babies me. Teeg's video isn't really that scary now that I know she isn't into it. I'm a little disturbed at how much the video intrigues me.

It's not the pain part. It's more the...I'm not sure.

"Kitten, where are you?" My girlfriend's home!

"I'm in your office," I shout back to her.

"I'll be right there, Beautiful."

She walks in already naked and enfolds me in a warm hug. We just stand like that for a while. And I feel safe and loved.

"Are you all right, Cutie?" My girlfriend sits me on her lap on her leather couch. Since she talked to Adrianne about how to communicate with people who are...different like me, she's been very careful to make me comfortable while we talk.

I feel her bush tickle my bottom a little, and her breasts press into my back. She thinks her breasts are my favorite part of her body, and I do spend a lot of time with them. They're big and bouncy with these pale pink nipples that get just a little darker at the tip and really long when they're hard. She also has deep red hair, sparkling green eyes, and long toned legs that I like. A lot.

Her arms are my favorite though. They're strong and gentle and home. My 0-0-0-0. It may be corny, but I don't care. I love my girlfriend.

"I'm fine. Just a little shook up. How was work?" Now I'm not sure if I want to admit how I feel.

"Work was boring. Let's talk about Teeg's video. Do you have any questions?" My girlfriend affectionately nuzzles my neck while she speaks to me in her lap. My legs are splayed around her knees. 

"That woman, is she okay?" I can't believe something that cruel could be sexy? But she looked like she enjoyed it?

"Yes, Dearheart. Although she mayn't have liked parts of it, she probably enjoyed the bulk of it. Some people do. And Teeg would have stopped if she said her safety word, or dropped her safety object rather." I guess I should have known it was consensual. But who could consent to that?

"Do I need...Should I have-" I didn't know how to ask.I love that she loves me. I don't want her to want to hurt me, but I want to feel...helpless?

"No. You tell me to stop and I'll stop. Case closed. You don't need a safety word." She means it. But I'm trying to get her to...I don't know. "Sweetheart, did you enjoy things about the video?" 

"I...Maybe. Yes. I don't want to be hurt like that, but I like how Teeg...had her." Would she think less of me for wanting...

"It's okay, but you're mine and I'm yours. That means more than just sex and fun. It means I get to protect you and look after you. And as your protector and look after-er, I'm saying no nipple or labia clamps, no hoods or gags, and no hot liquids. Well, except for mine," She added and kissed my neck again. "Now having you blindfolded and tied up with scarves while covered in whipped cream, that might be alright. Let's see who wins tonight, then we'll talk about it."

(At the end of game night every Tuesday, we play one more round. Just us. The winner gets to devise Fantasy Night on Friday.)

"You're okay with that? I'm not perverted or anything?" ~~~Her hands start fondling my breasts.

"Certainly no more than I am at least, Sexy. The idea of teasing you while you're all sightless and defenseless turns me on too." She rolls my nipples fondly.

"I've been a little bad though, right? I read your email without asking." One of her hands moves between my open legs and starts a tapping pattern on my mons with three of her fingertips. She knows exactly what I want when I ask if I've been bad. 

"There's nothing in this house that's off-limits to you. I'm much more concerned that it's nearly 5 in the afternoon and you've still not dressed yourself. Did you even have anything to eat, Naughty Girl?" One finger dips inside me.

"No." I quivered.

"If you don't start feeding yourself while I'm gone, I actually will get you a nanny. Did you do anything productive today or have you been a bad little naked lay-about? " She nibbles and licks the cartilage of my ear.

"I've been a bad little naked lay-about." I gasp. Two of her fingers are now pushing in and out of me.

"So, my Naughty Girl has done nothing all day but get fucked and watch porn?" One hand goes to my hip and the other stays massaging my breast.

"I watched an episode of The Irresponsible Captain Tylor," I answered.

She broke character to giggle at me and couldn't stifle herself for several minutes.

"Just lay across my lap, you silly little adorable geek." She chokes out while still chuckling. I leap over her lap before she finishes speaking. Her bush tickles my belly now.

I love getting spanked. I wiggle my rear at her to tempt her, but she likes to touch me first.

She leans over and kisses each of my cheeks. Then she caresses them, my upper thighs, and my back with practiced hands. It feels good, but I kick my feet with impatience. She chuckles at that too.

"Mmmm...eager are we, Naughty Girl?" She licks from the base of my neck to the crack of my tush in one long stroke, "How about I indulge your appeal?" One hand lies atop my shoulders to keep me in place. The other rubs my bottom.

"Yes please, Baby!" I sway my hips as best as I can lying down.

"Count for me, Naughty Girl." Her hand comes down.

*Smack*

"One." She's started.

*Smack*

"Two." I feel the warmth now.

*Smack*

"Three." The warmth spreads.

*Smack*

"Four." I moan out.

*Smack*

"Five." I squirm in delight.

*Smack*

"Six." I bet my buns and thighs are a bright pink.

*Smack*

"Seven." I start whimpering.

*Smack*

"Eight." I spread my legs.

*Smack*

"Nine." She targets my pussy.

*Smack*

"Ten." Lands directly on my clit.

I continue whimpering as she traces the outline of my pussy and flicks my needy clit. I feel my heart beat everywhere she touches. My pussy is super sensitive and my body is totally wired.

"Bend over the sofa arm and stay put. I'll be right back to fuck you." She stands and leaves the room. I hear her run up the stairs two at a time.

I'm bouncing up and down on my tiptoes over the padded leather couch arm waiting for her. I've got butterflies in my tummy in the best way. She's upstairs putting on her strapon. I feel my clit throb while I wait for her to come fill me and I squeeze and un-squeeze my legs together, but just can't sit still. My elbows on the couch cushion help me keep my balance. And help with the bouncing.

After what feels like forever, I hear her bounding back down the stairs. It's probably only been about two minutes, but the anticipation is killer.

My girlfriend struts back in wearing only her eight inch strapon. She absolutely does strut. I love it.

She steps behind me. Her strapon flat along my left cheek. She kisses my shoulders, neck, and back. Her hands stroke up and down my quaking thighs and over my arched back.

One of her strong arms supports her weight on the back of the couch. The other hand goes to my hip for control of my movements. She lines up her big strapon with my soaked pussy and glides the head up and down along my slit. She bumps my clit each time. 

My girlfriend knows that she's making me crazy with lust. She likes making me crazy with lust. I'm whimpering and humping backwards and all but begging her to drive into me.

"Do you want to be fucked, Pretty Girl?"

"Yes, please Baby?" I answer and scoot back toward her strapon as far as I can on my tiptoes.

"Okay then, Playmate." 

I groan at the snail's pace as she does enter me. Always she's so gradual going in, despite my pussy gripping the strapon and trying to pull it in. I try to savor it, but I'm so turned on that I wish she'd just go to town on me. Soon she will though. Meanwhile, I whimper and shake in the slow exquisite torture.

I push back hard and she's finally inside me all the way. The full feeling is wonderful. It's like my body has been fitted with the last puzzle piece that completes it. I moan heavily and enjoy as she and I are both content and still.

She kisses, licks, and nips my shoulders as she pulls out just as deliberately. Only part way. She slides back in easily, because I'm so wet for her. She pumps into me with slow, short strokes. Then slow, long strokes. Then fast, long strokes. 

She keeps making slight adjustments to her speed and angle the whole time she's within me. It's not enough to disturb the rhythm or disrupt my concentration. It does hit all these nice, sensitive places in me that I didn't know existed before her.

I match her rhythms and meet her thrusts. I easily take her length and am stuffed, but not crammed. Amongst all her other moans, groans, and growls, she makes a special grunting noise each time she strikes all the way into me. 

We're both breathing hard. Her pace quickens continuously. Her free hand goes to my pussy, below the strapon. Her thumb works my still throbbing clit out from behind its hood and rubs it steadily to her riding me.

My climax hits me like a Mack truck. I lay twitching and shaking. My pussy clamps down on her strapon inripples while she reduces speed on her strokes. 

She lets me enjoy cumming, but then her speed picks back up. She's aided by the fact that I just gushed all over her strapon. My girlfriend slides into me fast and hard. In minutes, she cums big too, growls, and falls on top of me.~~~




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04



Continuation of "My GF; Fucking & How We Met" and not recommended as a standalone work. If you do just want to read some sex scenes (or like to "prepare" for them ;), they're bookended with ~~~.

Fictional story containing graphic lesbian sex.




I run back upstairs and put on some clothes. I'm now wearing my matching "I don't want to be no furry-footed burrower!" Dexter tee shirt with my Dee Dee yoga pants. Oh, that's over a bra and garter set my girlfriend bought.

The hookah takes a bit of time to prep, so I head out to the balcony. I swear I had no ulterior motive. Overhearing her friends wasn't planned, but they're staying outside on the porch so that Teeg can smoke a cigarette. And so Nic can pinch one.

"Well, where's her better half?" Adrianne's voice asks.

"Yeah," Teeg continues, "She needs to be in Kay's lap, giving away her hole cards. Did she have to work?"

"No," Nic answers, "Based on Kay's text, she's probably upstairs dozing. And you, Teeg, you'd better be on your best behavior. Jenny saw your fondue performance and apparently it freaked her out.

"Teeg! You sent that to Jenny?" Melody rebukes.

"No, of course not. I wouldn't." Teeg protests.

"She didn't. Jenny saw it on Kay's computer. Then Kay spent the afternoon 'comforting' her. Hence the dozing." Nic answers again.

"How's Jenny dealing with that?" Melody asks, "Not Teeg's thing, but Kay's libido. Just living with her and her appetite was intense enough, I can't imagine being the object of her cravings. She's a functioning sex addict, isn't she?" 

The group pauses, waiting for Adrianne to weigh in as the psychiatrist. I could leave, but I'm now very interested.

"Sexual addiction is a behavioral diagnosis, usually with destructive cheating or professional interference as symptoms. It's not a conventional disease like the mumps. Kay definitely has a higher than average sex drive, but there's no evidence to call her an addict." I sigh with Adrianne's answer.

"What's it matter?" Teeg asks, "Isn't that the point of Kay getting herself a cute little subbie?"

And Teeg takes away my calm.

"What the fuck, Teeg?!" Nic shouts. By the slapping sound and the howl, I guess she wacked Teeg's arm.

"What? Is 'subbie' an offensive term?" Teeg questions.

"Yes, it's offensive," Melody answers in shock, "It's not true either."

"Oh, c'mon. Kay's been so damned happy that I don't even mind losing a first-rate fuck buddy over it, but let's call a spade a spade," Teeg maintains. "It's not even just how dominant Kay is sexually. Jenny doesn't drive. She only leaves on her own for work or yoga, and then in Kay's car service. She's not allowed her own friends and Kay's all over her when other people are around. Kay doesn't let her drink or smoke anything. Kay makes all their decisions. Jenny's a submissive." 

Maybe Teeg's right? Most of what she said wasn't. I don't like alcohol. Marijuana could get me fired from the hospital. My girlfriend has offered repeatedly to buy me a car and teach me to drive. She did ask that I stop taking the bus in favor of the car service, but she's never told me where I can or can't go. 

She likes my pussy shaved. (My girlfriend does the shaving herself. She says she's very fond of my pussy and doesn't like the idea of me having a blade near it.) But she offered to keep hers shaved too, if I wanted. (I like her red bush.)

She's never actually forbid anything. Except today, when she said no hoods, gags, or clamps.

I do like that she makes decisions though, and looks after me around people. I love how controlling she is in bed.

"You need to learn to shut the fuck up when you don't have all the details, Teeg." Nic responds. She knows about me. She guessed one day and I blushed, so she knows. Adrianne knows too, because my girlfriend asked her for advice. But no one else knows.

"What details would those be, Miss Nic?" Melody likes gossip.

"Look, they're good together," Adrianne breaks in, "If Kay's slightly overprotective of the only girl she's ever cared about and Jenny hero-worships Kay some, it's not our business."

"Fine. I want to talk about Anne and her Dear Jane letter anyway." Melody says by way of changing the subject.

"What?!" Nic likes gossip too.

"You didn't hear? Sebastian broke up with Anne by post two days ago." Melody confirms.

"And good fucking riddance to the galling prat." My girlfriend's back! "You guys want to help me carry all the food and drinks up to the balcony?"

"Do you think you could be a leetle nicer at Anne's homecoming party, Kay?" Nic's hosting a party for Anne on Friday at her Seattle bar.

"Forget nice. Each time that eco-twat spoke, I wanted to pave a rainforest to make room for a coal-powered, greenhouse gas emitting factory that manufactured uranium assault rifles." My girlfriend can be mean about people who bug her. 

"Maybe you could just not talk on Friday, Kay?" Melody suggests.

"Probably wise," She agrees walking in the front door.

Questions aside, I hurry up and actually get the hookah set up. My girlfriend will light it. I'm not great with fire. She's never cared that I'm uncoordinated.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I woke up in her arms after our first night together. She got us coffee and donuts on the way to dropping me off at work.

Terribly nervous, I managed to embarrass myself by spilling my coffee. 

"Oh shoot!" Hot, sticky coffee went all over the dashboard and floorboard of her nice car.

"Are you okay? Did you burn yourself?" She rubbed the back of my neck soothingly with one hand while pulling into the hospital parking lot.

"My hand, a little. It's not even red though. I'm so sorry!" I started trying to mop up the mess with the little napkin that came with the coffee. 

"It's okay, Cutie," she kept rubbing my neck as she pulled into a space, "Trust me when I tell you that this car is well scotch-guarded. I'll drop through a car wash between here and work. Easy-peasy. Go ahead and take my coffee with you. I'll pick up another."

I looked down at the huge mess I caused. It took me weeks of knowing her to realize that she honestly didn't care about "little things that won't matter in a year anyway."

"Give me your hand, Sweetness. I'll kiss it and make it better." She took my offended hand and kissed it. It should have been a cute gesture. "Mmm...What time do you take lunch?"

She wanted to take me to lunch!

"12:30, but it's only for a half hour."

"See you then." She kissed me bye. More sexually-charged than I expected.

I floated through the next six hours of work. I didn't even notice lunchtime.

"That's okay," I heard her tell my coworker at the pharmacy window. "I want the cute blonde sorting pills." 

She winked at me from the front of the service line. My coworker went on to help a real patient. I ran out the employee door and hugged her right in the hospital without thinking about it first.

"Hey, Cutie. I brought chicken fajitas." She handed me one. We ate and walked.

They were really yummy. I finished mine in like three bites.

"Did you want a tour of the hospital or something?" It was still almost a whole half hour until I had to work again.

"Why don't you show me the employee restroom, Sexy?" She took my hand.

"Oh. Of course. It's a single, so there may be a wait. It's right up there, though, if you need to go." I pointed it out.

"No, Pretty Girl," she whispered to me, "I need to set you on the sink and make you cum so hard that you'll have to bite your lip to keep from screaming."

My blush spread so the tips of my ears seared. She nipped one and whispered to me again.

"You're not really ready for sex in public, huh Gorgeous? Too bad, because you're even more adorably fuckable when you blush. I'll settle for a makeout session in my car, though. My windows are tinted and I promise not to go beneath your scrubs."

"Alright!" That I could do. 

We hurried to her car. She opened the passenger side for me, but popped the seat. That confused me. I hopped in the back anyway. 

She followed in after me and put me on my back. She brushed my hair carefully off my neck and away from where she rested her elbow.

"You're so damnedably pretty." My eyes shifted away from the intensity of her green ones to the fullness of her mauve lips. She touched my face with the back of her hand and followed with a kiss. Her pretty red hair fell in my face. It smelled of lavender and formed a thick, but soft, curtain around me. She tucked it behind her ears. Some escaped anyway as we kissed.

True to her word, she made no attempt to do reach under my scrubs. She did press her knee between my legs. She rocked her thigh into my pussy while grinding herself on my thigh. I was wet and ready for more contact, but also glad she restrained herself at my work.

I reached up to loosen her hair again. Her lips curved into a smile, but the kissing continued. I love feeling her smile and knowing that I'm making her happy. She broke off briefly to shake her hair free and then her tongue was back in my mouth and her pressure was back at my pussy.

Her stupid alarm went off. That was the exact moment I began hating her alarm.

"That...*kiss*...means...*kiss*...you have five minutes...*longer kiss*...to get back to work." She rolled us into a sitting position. And snickered.

Self-consciously, I tried to think of what I'd done.

"No, Cutie. It's me. I got my lipstick all over your chin. Here." She took out her pocket square and wiped my face. "Do you like strapon sex, Gorgeous?"

That caught me off guard, but I sputtered and managed to nod.

"We could go to a sex shop later?" My blush may have been a deeper red than her hair. "No sex shops either then? Well, tell me what you like. Length? Girth? Texture?...Plaid, maybe? Whatever turns you on, Pretty Girl, I'll be putting it inside you."

"I dunno." The number of options daunted me and I wasn't very sure what I'd like. I never actually saw Vanessa's strapon in the dark. Deana didn't use one. I didn't really like Brittany's. Of course, it was the first time either of us had tried one.

"Why don't I just take a guess for today, Cuddles? Trial and error might be more fun anyway. Can I pick you up and take you back to your place at 7?"

"Yes!" She stepped out of the car with me and squeezed my hand before she drove off. I ran back inside the hospital to the pharmacy.

If I floated through the morning, I fluttered through the afternoon. A beautiful, smart woman liked me and wanted to have good sex with me. Yatta!

She met me in the waiting room and led me to her car again. She opened my door. In the passenger's seat sat a white boutique bag with tissue poking out of the top. "Lovers" was written in dark purple on the side. I sort of naturally put the bag in my lap.

Her hand went to my thigh. She rubbed lightly as we left the hospital.

"You can open it, Playmate."

She'd bought some heating lube, a new harness with an agitator, and a dildo. The dildo was called "Leisure Purple: The Curve" and was the same color as the text on the bag. The package said it was 100% silicone, 6" long, and 1.375" in diameter. A completely smooth, curving cylinder. It didn't really even look that much like a dick. I think she got it to not scare me. It didn't seem like her at all.

"Aww...Thank you, Baby."

"Think you can handle that?" Her fingers slid into my underwear.

"I can handle more than that." I didn't want her to think I was a wimp.

"Alright then, Cowgirl. Pull out the bag behind your seat." Reaching back was tricky. Her right arm blocked my left while she fingered me. I managed to reach the other "Lovers" bag with my right. 

Inside was a 9" long, 2.5" wide, Mr. Johnson Ultra Realistic in black. I blanched.

"Not quite so brave now, are we Goldilocks? It's okay. Try the bag behind my seat." Her hand left my pants long enough for me to get the third bag, but went right back to touching me.

In that bag, she'd purchased a Tantus Flurry in Candy Pink. 7" long, 1.5" wide, it had two large ripples near the head. She was spot on, it was just right. Suddenly, I wanted to be home with her.

"Where are we going, Baby?" I noticed that we didn't seem to be on the normal route to my apartment.

"To your place. I'm just taking the long way. Open the package and check the Flurry out." I did. It was soft to the touch, but too hard to bend. I liked it.

She took her hand from my pussy and carefully licked her fingers. I continued to play with and fondle the Flurry in my lap while she drove intently for dozens of blocks. 

Impulsively, I took the head in my mouth a bit to taste it.

"That'll do, Sexy. We're good." She turned back toward my apartment and raced through two pretty questionable yellow lights on the way.

She parked at my place and gathered the bags.

"Beautiful, I'm going to need to take the Flurry," she held her hand out and I parted with my new toy, "Don't worry, I'll be giving it right back to you – after a fashion," she winked.

~~~Once inside my apartment, she kissed me quickly and gave instructions.

"Get undressed - completely - and lay on your side on your bed." She stripped as well, then took out the harness and hooked the Flurry into the o-ring.

"Like what you see, my little Goldilocks?" She'd caught me looking as she strutted over to the bed.

She laid facing me and began nuzzling and canoodling me. Her hands played along my body. I touched her too; her large firm boobs, her hard abs, her broad shoulders and strong arms, and the curve of her back running to her two perfect buns. I felt the strapon between us against my belly, but she seemed in no hurry to use it. In fact, her fingers went to my pussy.

"Do you...do I need lube, Baby?" I couldn't help worrying that there would be something wrong, but I felt her smile again on my jawline as she kissed me.

"Are you familiar with the term 'drop in the bucket,' my wet girl?" She returned to my face and her leisurely pace.

"Then, should I-" She cut me off with a peck on the lips.

"You should relax. We have all night, and I want to play with you." She rolled me on my back without surrendering my lips. My chest and hips rose and fell uncontrolled. Coherent thought was lost to me at that point. I just gave myself over to her and enjoyed the sensations of her fingers between my legs and her mouth on mine.

Amidst moans, hers and mine, I felt up the breasts hanging above me. I was growing ever more secure with her and became even more excited making her gasp as I rolled and squeezed her long pink nipples.

My legs spread wide with her between them. I tried to wrap them around her and draw her in, but she slipped down my body and laid her head on my tummy. I dropped my legs and groaned in frustration.

"You're sexy when you're all needy and sulky, Kitten." Her words vibrated against my belly. She kissed and nibbled my hip bones and upper thighs while she tickled the backs of my knees. 

My soaked pussy was ignored entirely. I just stroked her wild hair for as long as I could take the torment silently. I didn't understand yet how much she enjoyed teasing me when the mood took her.

"Baby, I do need you." 

Her head popped up from the inside of my upper thigh. She launched herself up the bed and laid on her side alongside me. I kept glancing over at her face. She just circled my areolas with the lightest of feathered touches.

"What's the magic word, Angel?" I whimpered at her delicate caresses.

"Pleeeeeeeease!" I begged emphatically and shamelessly.

"Aww, that was cute, Pretty Girl. 'Please.' But 'please' isn't really a magic word for you is it?" Warm breath tickled my ear. She accentuated the word "please" in her whisper each time by tweaking my nipple in addition to her tortuously airy strokes, "You say 'please' to your patients for their prescriptions, and 'please' to the checkout girl for plastic, and 'please' to the bus driver at your stop. I'll need more than 'please' if you want to be fucked to satisfaction."

"Pretty please?" I pleaded out vocally and with my eyes.

"Damn, but you're sweet." She chuckled and spread herself over me, her body weight and hands on me and her lips caressing mine forcefully. We broke for breath, "'Fuck.' Your magic word is 'fuck.' Ask me to fuck you, and I will."

"What?"

"Tell me *hard kiss* you want me *hard kiss* to fuck you." Her breathing was labored. She put a love bite on my collarbone. Her patience was limited.

"Please...fuck me, Baby?" I panted out. Saying the words at her insistence felt oddly liberating.

Her lips found mine again. The Flurry poised above me for the shortest of seconds before gently entering me second by second to the base in a single long push.

Once the strapon drove fully inside of me, I unwound and enjoyed. She held for nearly a minute. Her kisses were sweet and loving.

"Are you good, Kitten?" Her tongue snaked in my ear. I nodded against her cheek.

Her hips moved in steady thrusts that I rose to meet. I held onto her supple cheeks to pull us together. We found our harmony and friction. My excitement climbed.

Vanessa had been so brutish and fast. Brittany never established a rhythm. My girlfriend is just right.

"Good girl, very good girl." She petted me and nibbled my neck. 

We "fucked" like that. She stayed gentle and caring. Her hand went to my clit. Soft touches deepened my pleasure. I built progressively to the satisfaction she'd promised.

My whole body seemed to tighten and flex. Warmth in my tummy spread to my toes and fingers. 

She knew how close I was. Her speed increased. Her thrusts shortened. The angle changed. The Flurry with its lovely ridges rubbed over and butted my g-spot. Her thumb maintained the soft caresses of my clit.

"Arrrrhaaaaaaaaahuuuuu!" My body shattered into a blissful orgasm and I drifted into a wonderful haze.

The fog dispelled somewhat. She smiled down at me.

"I guess you like the Flurry, Sexy?" It was still buried in me.

"Yes!" As fully relaxed as I was, I could feel the tension still constricting her body. 

"Can you take any more?" Her finger barely traced my uber-wet and uber-sensitive folds. A line of sparks followed wherever it went.

"Yeahhh." I wanted more. And I wanted her to cum too.

Her strokes restarted, though her free hand went between her own legs. Her eyes closed and I was able to see her face at leisure for the first time. Her eyebrows are heavy and arched, her cheek bones high and defined, her nose straight and slightly arched, her lips curving and full. She's so beautiful. She's mine.

Her moans and sighs rose in volume and pitch as she rode me to her orgasm. She seemed so engrossed and driven, like she was taking precisely what she knew she wanted precisely how she wanted it. 

She reached her climax above and inside me. Her shudders reverberated into me. She rumbled out her triumph and her fluids leaked onto my thigh. She collapsed onto me, cuddling me for a few minutes.

~~~"Fu-uck, Sexy!" She tossed the Flurry and harness on the floor and draped me over her. "You feel like some Chinese?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

After setting an armload of Smirnoff Ice Green Apple, Mike's Hard Cranberry Lemonade, Jack Daniel's and Ginger, Crispin Hard Cider, and Redd's Strawberry Ale on the balcony table, I light the charcoal for the hookah and turn on "She's a Lady" by Tom Jones. I casually wonder at my girlfriend. She's leaning on the balcony railing and gazing at the out at the Puget Sound.

Her pretty little face is all scrunched up and frowny and her shoulders and feet are set. Something's bugging her, but it could anything from an anime ending badly to the mysteries of the universe. If she wants my opinion, she'll ask when she's ready. Meanwhile, she's so cute when she attempts seriousness that I just wanna have her.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04



Lost in her thoughts, she hasn't noticed me yet, so she starts slightly when I wrap my arms around her from behind.

"Hey, Sweetness." She eases into me with the reassurance of my voice. I love our six inch height difference. My arms naturally fall around her rib cage just below her breasts and around her shoulders over her collarbone. "The girls are here."

"Baby?"

"Yes?" I kiss the place where her neck meets her shoulder.

"Are you a sex addict?"

"A what?" I can't help laughing a bit at the unexpectedness of the question. "Are you looking to cut me off? Because I will protest, and I can be very, very seductive." 

"No," she giggles, "I heard them talking about you on the porch."

"You were eavesdropping, my little Samwise?" It tickles her when I make nerd references, "I prefer to think of myself as a sex enthusiast, but I can calm it down if you need me too?" One arm unwraps so that I can revel in exciting her nipples into hard little points through her goofy shirt and lacy bra.

"Nooooooooo," she moans out while I graze her nipples tantalizingly and nibble the sweet spot behind her ear.

"Ahem," Melody breaks in on our moment, "Kay, we came to play poker and would appreciate it if you could refrain from banging on the balcony while we're here." She looks back to Teeg, Nic, and Adrianne for support, but receives only noncommittal murmuring at most. 

"I miss Anne," Melody sighs.

"Sorry, Melody," I justly assume the blame for our amorous inflammation. My bashful girlfriend likes to be touched constantly, but only PG with an audience, "I'm distracting myself and others. I'll deal the first round."

My girlfriend sits in my lap with a root beer while we drink, smoke, talk, and, play until Teeg takes all the chips and buy-ins. (Usually other romantic partners attend, but Melody and Teeg are single, Dr. Hartford never shows on Tuesdays, and Adrianne's wife, Elle, is with her very pregnant sister. A shame, because my girlfriend's in Elle's yoga class too.) As the game night winner, Teeg declares that we'll be paintballing on Saturday and playing the Loaded Questions: Adult Version next game night.

"Ready for our round?" I ask my girl from across the room after everyone went home and we'd cleaned up.

"What are the rules?" My clever girl has learned to expect trickery from me.

"Five card draw, no-limit strip poker with a single one chip blind, each of us starting with 25 chips of equal value. One article of clothing removed for each hand folded or lost after the draw. First person naked or busted loses." She excels at circumscribed games with clearly defined rules, like tennis and dominos. I'm not going to let her win, because I have very explicit plans for Friday's fantasy night now that my girlfriend does anal. Still, she'll have more fun if the rules are set first.

"Alright..." She bites her bottom lip cutely when she's uncertain.

"You know that just makes me wanna bite too, Angel?" I seize her bottom lip in a heating kiss. I'm not biting hard, but I won't release all that quickly either. Not until she's breathless.

"Okay. Let's play, Baby." She moves to sit in Nic's vacated chair, as I seat myself at the card table again. 

"No, no, no, Silly Girl. You can't switch seats in poker." I pat my lap.

"But you'll see all my cards?" That it's a trick and not (only) that I like her sexy ass wriggling in my lap takes a half a second to dawn on her. Mid-question, she recognizes that she's being intentionally handicapped.

I love watching the wheels turning in her head as she realizes she can't win. Her petulance shows all over her pretty face. Her poker face is so bad in fact that cheating probably isn't strictly necessary. But it's more fun when she knows she doesn't stand a chance.

"What do you have planned for Friday, Baby?" She's still petulant, but curious now too as she accedes to sit in my lap.

"You should be a little more concerned with my immediate plans for your delicious body, Kitten." I shuffle and deal for us, watching her cards as she reads them. 

She gets a nice hand, but I've got her beat even after the draw. I slow play it though and let her bet a third of her stack before re-raising and taking a second third.

"Uh-oh, Cutie. You're short-stacked and – I believe – you owe me an article of clothing?" My hands go naturally to her belly, one toying with her shirt tail and the other sliding under her waistband, "So pants or shirt?"

She snorts in annoyance, but takes her shirt off over her head. While her arms remain tangled in her shirt, I tickle her armpits ruthlessly.

"Ai-ai-ai, ha-he, ha-he, b-b-b-b-Baby, please?" She half-titters and half-begs, nearly falling out of my lap. I grant mercy and chuckle.

"Your turn to deal, my little giggle box." Finished tickling, my hands go of their own accord to my girlfriend's tender, perky breasts. The heft, the responsiveness, the silkiness, the shape; flawless breasts. Her gauzy bra is attractive too, but I'm more than ready to tear it off her exquisite chest.

She deals the next hand distractedly, but eventually creates two piles of five cards. Her involuntary moans evidence her physical forgiveness of my manipulation.

Her hand's better than mine, but she doesn't know. I bet heavy and she folds after the draw.

"Whoops. Bra or pants, Sweetness?" Again of its own accord, my left hand goes to her bra snap at the middle of her back.

"Pants." Out of peevishness, she stands and drops trou. She's wearing a lilac fine balconet bra and matching garter belt.

It's a set I bought her last week. I was sure it'd complement her skin tone and blonde hair, but I hadn't seen the lingerie on her before. She makes it look ohhhh so very good.

"Turn around for me?" I caress the outside of her firm thigh along the front garter strap, "please?"

~~~My girlfriend faces away from me, but gives me a sultry look over her shoulder. Her wavy blonde hair cascades down her back, hiding her bra from behind except for the lilac lace trimming. The graceful curve of her back melds through her slender waist and full backside. The hanging garter straps softly frame her lovely ass in her tiny garter belt. I all but decide to throw her across the table and eat her out until my beautiful woman passes out screaming ecstatically.

Then she smiles impishly and bites her bottom lip at me.

"Brat." I pull her back into my lap and nuzzle her hair affectionately, "My deal."

I force her all-in with a losing hand. 

"You lose, Sexy," I stand upright with her with a genial slap her delightful tush, "Let's go finish in my bed."

I lead her by the hand to my bed, kissing and petting her. I teeter a bit myself, fairly drunk at this stage. With an ankle hooked around hers, I trip her backwards gently onto my comfy bed.

She falls back, still smiling at me. I take off the shirt and bra I'd thrown on after fucking her earlier and the jeans and panties too. She's extraordinarily alluring, lying back limbs akimbo with her gorgeous body encased in the balconet and garters I'd bought her. So fucking hot. I wanted to see her cum.

My girlfriend kicks her foot out at me, unnecessarily ensuring my continued attentions.

"Believe me, Beautiful, I haven't forgotten you," I stroke the calf of the leg that kicked at me. "Do you feel up to riding tonight?"

She nods empathically, eyes roaming from my breasts to my crotch and staying there. If she wants to voyeur awhile, I'm thrilled to oblige.

"Good. Would you like a preview of Friday?" Again, she nods at my crotch.

From my nightstand, I grab a "strapless" strapon and some lube. My wetness is indubitable, but the lube's for the anal stimulator, not the vaginal knob. (I'm fond of my ass, so a lubricant is vital.) I kick on the vibration and her pretty eyes go wide. 

Turning away, I'm certain in the knowledge that she watches as I deliberately press one bead of the jelly plastic stimulator at a time into my primed ass and lock the vaginal insert in in conjunction. She also hears my moans of enjoyment, before I get into bed with her.

I dive onto her, tongue in her mouth and arms over hers. I let her feel the upcurving shaft of the strapon press her thigh. Both of us get to feel the low vibration, but - since the knob's inside me and it reverberates to the line of anal beads inside me too - I should be the eager one. Yet, her soft sighs and moans into my mouth escalate in urgency.

Rolling onto my back with her straddling my thighs, I get to view her beauty from an entirely different angle. The sight of her above me – her hair wild and messy, breasts rising and falling with her ragged breaths, and her honey-golden brown eyes glazed with lust – makes me believe in the genius of Orson Welles' low-angle shot. I lay for a few moments, just stroking the outside of her thighs and taking in her utter gorgeousness.

Apparently too taken with lust to share my reflective mood, she frowns down at me impatiently. Her hands fondle my breasts decisively and tweak my nipples to call me to action.

"Ahhhh, fuck that feels good. Alright, you little minx. Let's get you filled." Getting a hold on the garter belt, I help her raise herself over the curved shaft and support some of her weight so that her impaling is gentle and gradual. Once I feel her shaved pussy stretched around the vibrating shaft up against my bare skin, I hold her still and whimpering until she begs cutely. 

I'm mean. I know.

"Baby, plea-" I cut her off with a fierce sit-up kiss. 

"Baby, I-" Again. I hold for a few seconds and this time suck her bottom lip.

"Baby, can-" With her weight on my thighs and 500+ reps practice a week, I could do a sit-up every few seconds all night.

"Baby, rea-"

"Baby, now-"

"Baby, you-"

It does occur to her to stop beginning sentences with "Baby" and thereby get two more syllables.

"Darn it, I-"

"That's not fu-"

"Will you quit-"

"Let me get-"

"You are so-"

"mean. You're-"

"mean."

They cause me some very pleasant sensations with the vibration of the strapon through the knob and stimulator, or I probably wouldn't do so many sit-up kisses just to provoke her. I'm pretty sure my continuing is primarily to provoke her though.

"You don't"

"want to talk"

"anymore"

"Pretty Girl?"

"Because I"

"am loving"

"talking to"

"you, Kitten."

She keeps returning my kisses, but refuses to speak. It takes commitment to give the silent treatment to someone whose vibrating strapon is impaling you, but my girl is nothing if not stubborn. Her pouting never fails to amuse me and I make no attempt to hide my grinning. I sit up for one last long hot kiss.

"Awww, okay," I'm still holding her hips in place, "Why don't you get yourself off, Cowgirl?"

She's entirely pleased with herself and sets about pleasing herself. Her hands rest on my thighs behind her so that she can impel herself upwards and my hands stay on her hips to help and to keep her from being thrown, or she'd fly off as though I were a mechanical bull. (She's even more adorable than a baby deer, but unfortunately has less than half the natural balance.)

She's safe while I hold her though, and in that security she rides the vibrating shaft between my legs with an abandon I can't help envying.

My hips rock and roll in time with hers. The recurrent pressure of her body's weight and her pussy's grip pounds the knob into my clit and rubs my g-spot while nudging the stimulator in my ass - enough to electrify me - but not to make me cum. She, however, experiences a level of arousal leading directly to a mammoth orgasm.

My girlfriend's face composes passionately, eyes closed and hair tousled, rich moans alone escaping from her relaxed open mouth as she pistons up and down. She looks at once at peace and untamed. She's like sex personified above me and I couldn't be prouder or gladder she's mine.

Her body goes rigid, she cries out for me, and she cums fiercely straddling me.

She wants to collapse, but has a rod keeping her upright and vibrating. I lift her off it and let her tumble onto me, head on my breast and smiling a silly happy smile. I pet her hair, stroke her sorta sweaty back, and murmur comforting words of a laudatory nature. All while doing my level best to ignore the knob and stimulator keeping me excited.

"That was hot, Playmate. You certainly put on quite a show." I wait to speak until her lips latch onto my right nipple. It's like the unknown Fourth Law of Motion that Newton left out. If she's aware and within a foot of my naked breast, she will suckle.

"Mmmmmph," she agrees and is too satisfied to be self-conscious about it, but isn't willing to release my nipple yet. I chuckle and continue petting her sweet head.

Her fingers squeeze and roll my left nipple while her tongue swirls over my right. Her free hand caresses my face, so I catch one of her fingers in my mouth and suck hungrily.

"Sexy, I'm loving what you're doing, but I need you to help me get this vibrator out of me. Otherwise, I may spontaneously combust."

"Okay, Baby," a rare wickedness flashes in her usually soft and kind eyes, "Let's see how you like it."

She's awash in lust, perma-smile plastered on her face. With an opportunity to tease me back, she jacks the shaft a few times playfully. 

"Ahhhh. Hell yeah, Gorgeous, fuck me." It's such an added turn on when she's feeling frisky and rebellious.

She slides off and kneels on the bed beside me, below my waist. I spread and bend my knees, putting my weight on my shoulder blades, upper arms, and the balls of my feet so that she has access to the strapon lodged in my ass and pussy.

Forever curious and in no special hurry to save me from my self-induced delay in gratification, she gingerly examines the interesting toy that she just got off on between my legs. My position is a bit hard to hold and the combination of its difficulty and my agitation has me trembling, but I like it.

She pulls back on the shaft, driving the anal stimulator deeper into my ass and grinding the knob into my g-spot. I groan out loud and my hips jerk involuntarily. She jumps a bit at the unexpectedness of my reaction, but immediately returns to exploring. Her inquisitive face is priceless.

She presses forward on the still vibrating shaft. It gives the more sensitive tissue of my pussy a much wanted reprieve, but pulls the largest bead passed my anal ring while placing the vibrating knob to the thin walls twixt my vaginal and anal channels and sending tremors through my ass.

"Oh my! Pull them out, you little minx! Pull them out!" 

I keep my ass tight so that my nerve endings fire with each bead as it's removed with tortuously-slow care. I'm ready to jump of my skin by the time she flings the still vibrating toy to the floor.

Her manner hasn't changed, but I'm done being playful. With my legs still spread wide, I prop a pillow under my ass and let my body drop. 

"Not-uh, Beautiful," my hands inflexibly on her shoulders stop her as tries to crawl back up the bed, "Not where I want your talented tongue right now."

Her lips find my lower abdomen and leave a trail of kisses to my center. She pauses briefly to inhale my lavender shampoo. (She told me it was her favorite scent the night we met and I've used nothing else since.) She pushes passed my red pubes to the vulnerable skin inside the crimson bush. 

The moment her tongue grazes the inside of my enflamed nether lips, I entwine one hand into her golden locks and grip the warmed bed sheet with the other. My soaked thighs snap shut on her pretty face like a spring hinge. I've enough presence of mind to make sure she can breathe, but only just. (The way juices are pouring out of me, there may be more danger of her drowning.) My own breathing is only a series of gasps and jerking exhales.

At some point, I should compose an ode to her tongue. Were I Queen of the World, several monuments would be erected to it. For right now, just trust me when I tell you that my girlfriend's tongue is phenomenal.

Her tongue bypasses a comprehensive exam of my outer and inner lips and slips directly into my irresistible, moist hollow. I've trained her well. She knows that by heading straight to my core, the tension in my thighs will relax somewhat and grant her better access.

"Good girl," my grip on her hair and her face's immediate proximity to my snatch do not change, "Fingers now, fingers."

She takes the opportunity to insert two fingers deep in my pussy and her thumb questioningly presses the entrance to my anal cavity.

"Yes, Kitten," I moan, "My ass too." She doesn't like analingus, and I've never pushed her on it, but she has no problem shoving her warm thumb in my eager ass and twisting it.

Her humid mouth sucks my hooded clit while her captivating tongue flicks it sharply and rapidly. Her small, smooth fingers curl and uncurl in me by turn and her thumb wriggles unreservedly in my ass. My hips jerk, jump, and twitch, but she stays with me. Her soft cheeks inside my thighs, her rapturous eyes unseeing between my legs, her devoted touch inside my pussy and ass, and her sweet slurping sounds as she gulps my juices; I absolutely love all of her.

All the hectic sexual energy mounting within me from the second I came home to see her on the balcony converge on her mouth and digits in a rising surge. My body locks in sheer pleasure.

"Garrrrrrrrrrr! My angel, fuuuuuuuuuck! Gaaaaaaaah!" My snatch clenches onto her fingers and tongue, I growl out over her and spurt cum into her mouth and down her chin.

My legs release her and fall to the bed. She exhaustively licks up my liquids from every single millimeter of my cum-inundated slit. My girlfriend takes her sweet time cleaning me up for an interval, waiting for telltale signs that I've come back down to earth with her. I release her hair too, and began gently petting her helplessly mussed hair.

"More, Baby?" The hopefully nature of her question certainly wasn't disguised well.

"Sure, Kitten," I'm always at my most relaxed right after orgasming from her oral performance. It's like weed, a massage, tobacco, exercise, alcohol, hot-tubbing, a drive, and an orgasm from someone else all squared. Once she brings me to climax, I'm just happy gelatin, "whatever you like."

She nibbles and licks the puffy, hypersensitive lips of my post-orgasmic pussy and works her way out over my inner thighs from top to bottom. All to drunken, satisfied moans from me.

The very tip of her hot, wet tongue draws her name on my perineum before ever so slowly laving up to the bottom of my slit and tongue-fucking me with long plunges. It waggles within me, half gathering moisture and half producing more. My head lolls back, my vocal responses are reduced to unending sighs of contentment, and her wondrous tongue dominates my narrowed world.

My girlfriend adroitly teases out my clitoris from behind its hood and gives it a thorough tongue bath as well. It's really only then that my continued arousal permeates my consciousness and my sighs progress to groans.

"Faster, Hotness. You've 'woken the dragon.'" If you can't make your lover laugh, learn. Her giggling into me is one of the most singular sensations in the world.

Her small hands grab my ass cheeks to hang on tightly and hold me down easily in my sapped and inebriated state. My pelvis judders, but she has me and her tongue maintains its influence.

She picks up her pace and the flat of her tongue polishes my completely inspired clit, followed by strokes into the main channel to balance against her lapping. Back and forth she switches, keeping me careening toward the edge of a second orgasm and moaning for her.

"Just like that, Fuck-a-Bunny, keep going you little minx. Uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhah!"

Drenched and aflame for her simultaneously, I erupt. Her earlier efforts to loosen my thighs crumbled as my pelvic muscles scream and my legs clasp her pretty head. My hips pitch though one of the longest orgasms of my life and several convulsing aftershocks.~~~




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04



"Get up here," I demand in between panting. She tosses her lingerie to the floor with the quietly vibrating toy.

She greets me with a kiss. I love tasting myself in her kiss.

I roll my girlfriend into her place in the crook of my arm and start to drift to sleep.

"Baby, what's 'Fuck-a-Bunny' mean?"

"I am not entirely sure, Cutie. I may be exceedingly drunk."

She proceeds to repeat the phrase a few times and giggle.

"Baby, Teeg called me a 'subbie' earlier."

"She fucking said that to you?" I woke up to a degree at that.

"No, when I eavesdropped." Not as bad, but I'd still take a particular pleasure in kicking Teeg's ass at tennis this week.

"Well, Cuddles, I'm sure Nic gave her hell. Teeg just thinks in 1s and 0s. She doesn't mean offense."

"Kay?"

"Yes, Angel?" She almost never uses my name...

"Am I a submissive?" 

It's the question I diligently avoid answering for myself. By nature, we're unambiguously on separate ends of the meek-authoritarian spectrum, but I strongly dislike the inherent connotations of less than in "submissive" as a term.

I'd lay even money on us in a chess match and she's so pretty. I'm more athletic, but she's better than me in nearly every other measurable way. She's honest without ever having an unkind word for anyone. She's faithful and giving, sexually and personally. Hell - for a living - she provides medicine for sick children. She's much more valuable than a shark like me on a societal level.

Should she be marginalized for the same gentle nature that I love? Nothing is ever simple with her.

I lock my arms around her, bury my face in her hair, and try to decide if I should give my girlfriend the same lies I tell myself.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I called in an order for orange chicken for her and pork chow mein for me from Yummy Café and gave them her address. I then returned to the paramount task of cuddling her until the delivery boy knocked.

"Here, keep it." I handed him a fifty. Whether it's because I tip well or so frequently answer the door naked, I get prompt and courteous service from my usual restaurants.

She sits up against a backrest on her bed while I assume her office chair. Still naked, she covered herself conscientiously with her top sheet. That she still felt that shy with me was kinda sweet.

Not shy myself, I just crossed my legs and ate some chow mein. She stole glances at first, then just looked openly at me and seemed to ignore her food. 

"So what are you up to tomorrow night?" I talked while she got comfortable, "My friends wanna meet you and there's a game night at my house."

"I-, I don't-, I'm not good at people." What did that mean?

"You don't have to, Sweetheart. I did win last week, so we'll be playing Wit's End and I think you'd be good at it," she perked up at the compliment, "Besides, they don't completely believe that I have a girlfriend."

"I'm your girlfriend!?!" She really brightened at that.

"Sorry, Cutie, I should've asked first. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. Done."

She leapt from her bed and I'd a second to put my food container aside before she hugged and kissed me.

"Mmm *kiss* your food *kiss* will get *kiss* cold," I dislodged her arms, picked her up, and laid her back on her bed. Despite my own protest, her naked body distracted me and my fingertips grazed her hip.

Her eyes closed in a face of such candid willingness and trust. I bent to take a delicate rosy nipple, before the smell of orange chicken brought me back.

"My little temptress, you need to eat your dinner," I chuckled and only licked off a smear of sauce spilled on her breastbone before retaking my seat and quickly finishing my chow mein.

My new girlfriend re-sheeted herself and went back to playing with her food.

"Pretty Girl, do you not like orange chicken and rice?" I couldn't understand why she didn't just eat.

"Yeah. No. I'm just not good with chopsticks," she blushed charmingly.

I taught her, but she didn't gain anything that could be mistaken for proficiency.

"You could just use a fork." I tossed her one to her relief. "If authenticity mattered to me, I wouldn't choose the Yummy Café."

"Do you generally go out at all, Beautiful?" I eyed her tremendous collection of anime and SciFi doubtfully, wondering if she feared snakes in grass and men with carriages.

"Not on days when I work. It's a twelve hour shift and nearly an hour on the bus each way." She fairs no better as an equivocator than as a liar.

"Have you been on your feet all day?"

"Except when you had me on my back?" She makes an excellent flirt.

"Give me your feet, my little temptress." I sat on the foot of her bed and massaged her cute little feet while she ate.

"So, Cutie, tell me where you go?" I started by holding one foot to my breast and gently rubbing her surprisingly soft sole with my thumbs.

"I'm afraid you'll -oooooh- think I'm a geek." I took her big toe in my mouth and bit ever so lightly on the smooth skin.

"Darling, I know you're a geek. I find it cute. Tell me." My tongue encircled her second toe and she giggled as it tickled the sensitive skin between the toes.

"I go to our Dungeon Master's house every Wednesday off to play D&D." Wow. I thought I'd seriously misjudged what her interests would be, but I continued sucking her toes.

"Really? What's 'D&D' stand for?" I tongue-flicked the underside of her second toe and laughed when her foot tried to jerk in my hands.

I didn't peg her for a BDSM enthusiast, but that was something I wanted to hear and I wasn't about to complain. Once every two weeks implied a lack of commitment to the "Dungeon Master," but a penchant for the activities. I'd be happy to replace him for her.

"Dun- ahhhhhhh! Dungeons and Dragons." My teeth siding up and down the length of her third little piggy apparently affected her keenly. 

"What's a Dragon, Playmate?" I began lapping inside the arch of her other foot.

"Dragons are like dinosaurs that are faster and sentient. They use flame or sometimes frost, poison, electricity, or acid." I stopped touching her in uncertainty.

I know there were other cues in what she was saying and her previous behavior that should have steered me to the conclusion that she belonged to a group of nerds with an imaginary world rather than a fringe sex club. But have you ever heard a phase that just choked out all the other thoughts in your head?

"'Flame...frost, poison, electricity, or acid?!'" I refused to believe that this sweet naïve girl was into anything involving flame, frost, poison, electricity, or motherfucking acid.

"Yeah. Gold, Brass, and red dragons breathe fire. Silver and white dragons breathe frost. Green dragons spray poison. Bronze and blue dragons produce electricity. Copper and black dragons spit acid. Metallic dragons are generally good, but chromatic dragons are always evil. At least they still are in our homebrew, but we use more 3.5 than 4.0." If you understood that, you have my condolences and remember your sunblock, you sad fucking geek. (Geekiness is only cute on her.)

"Kiddo, are you talking about actual dragons?" I separated and sucked hard on her pinky toe.

"No. Dungeons and Dragons is an RPG, a role-playing game." I perked up at that and nipped her little pinky toe.

"Do you dress up and pretend to kill dragons, Cutie? Because you in some leather 'armor' could be hot." I took the better part of her foot in my mouth and exhaled hot breath onto it.

"*squeal* Slay. You slay a dragon. And no we don't dress up. We're not lame-o LARPers." I'm really into teasing her littlest piggy.

(Apparently, there's a faction of RPGers known as Live Action Role Players whom even other gamers mock for their costume play. I also learned that night that "elven" refers to something of elf style, design, or race, "elvish" refers to a language spoken or developed by elves, and "elfin" or "elfish" refer to something elflike. Now you've learned this profitless information too and can never unlearn it. Ha ha.)

For once, she spoke freely and unreservedly with me without stuttering or wondering how I'd respond. That the topic bores me was immaterial. I listened and occasionally jogged her while the "massage" of her feet essentially degenerated into a tongue bath interspersed with caresses. Only after she finished her chicken did I stop her to ask why the topic enthralled her.

"Because, Baby, in real life I'm stuck as a Lawful Good Warforged Wizard with high Intelligence and Constitution, below average Strength and Wisdom, and no Dexterity or Charisma, but – when I play – I can be a Chaotic Neutral Tiefing Warlock if I want."

"Pretty Girl, you have plenty of charisma." Her answer made zero actual sense to me, but sounded like she was putting herself down.

"You don't understand." Her frustration read all over her face. I honestly attempt to take her seriously, but her frowny face is darling.

"Okay then, my little temptress. Teach me." I planted a final peck on her big toe before she directed me to a player's guide, dice baggy, and accordion file. 

We spent three hours of me learning and rolling up a character that would complement hers. I agreed to let her skip game night Tuesday at my house, but get her from work and go with her to the game session Wednesday at her Dungeon Master's house. Then I carefully replaced her things.

"Baby, I'm going to suck at work tomorrow in...crap...four hours." 

"Well," I gathered the covers, "let's get you tucked into your nice, warm bed."

"I'm too hyper to sleep." 

~~~"Oh, Temptress," I smirked at my hapless, still naked, self-proclaimed girlfriend, "I can make you sleepy."

I ripped the sheet off her sexy body, aiming to get her off hard and fast. My sudden ardor surprised her, but her legs spread open like shutters before I even touched her.

"Fondle your breasts, Hotness," She started to grope herself.

I cast myself over her, my bellybutton directly over her heat. A quick kiss on her cherry lips showed my affection, before I put my hands over hers and used her fingers to manipulate her cherry nipples forcefully. 

I caught her whimpers in a second kiss while propped on my elbows above her, much more passionate and adamant than the first kiss and leaving her gasping for breath. Her gasps competed with her whimpers as I further exploited her fingers to twist her nipples and took a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh kiss from her warm and willing mouth.

"You are my girlfriend now. Mine," I pressed my knee to her fluffy blonde curls and felt them become saturated with her excitement at my words and touch, "And, Sweetness, I make my girlfriend cum a lot." 

Still working her delectable tits, I bit and licked the vulnerable cartilage of her petite earlobes. My whispering to her also contributed to the increasing dampening of my knee.

"Not request my girlfriend cum a lot." With a long lick, I traversed the skin between her ear and the hollow of her throat.

"Not help my girlfriend cum a lot." A second long lick brought me back symmetrically to her other ear.

"Not even demand my girlfriend cum a lot." I removed her right hand from her breast and brought it between my knee and her wetness.

"Make" I used her thumb and middle finger to pinch her clit within its rapidly engorging hood to emphasize my point. Her yelp of pleasure significantly emboldened me.

"Are you sure that you want to be my girlfriend?" Cupping her sex through her own hand, I awaited her answer with my breath bated.

I wanted her. With her, I wanted tender, sensual sex, and teasing, playful sex, and ravishing, impassioned sex. Equally though, I wanted her to desire them from me.

Her sweet honey-golden brown eyes registered a curious mix of emotions. Like her flushed face and chest, her hardened nipples, and her pulsing and dripping sex, those eyes fairly shouted her arousal. They also testified to eager tension battling skittish anxiety. Beyond that, deeper or stronger, they spoke of longing.

"Yes."

With me elated, our next kiss was tender and sensual. Her lips pressed by mine. Her mouth opening to grant entrance to my ardent tongue. Massaging her tongue and drawing it across my lips into the warmth of my mouth to gently suck. And a silly Eskimo kiss before her ravishment continued.

Sucking much harder, I put a run of love bites on her pale shoulder where her scrubs would cover the evidence. Meanwhile, I pushed her first two fingers into her pussy, holding them straight with my first finger and thumb wrapped round their base tightly. For several minutes, I ferociously kissed and masturbated her to what sounded like a chorus of her greedy moans.

Changing my grip, I add my middle finger to her first two, pumping in and out of her shallowly and briskly. My knee lent pressure to the back of my hand and gave our thrusts more force. I furled and unfurled our digits inside her, agitating the wet sensitive tissue within. Her snatch clutched graspingly at our knuckles and her hips lurched upward for more.

"Lick," I brought our fingers to her lips and followed with my own tongue after she'd cleaned them to taste her from her splendid mouth, "Tease your nipples again."

Leaving her to see to her upper body, I focused in on her lower half in the knowledge that she did need to get to sleep soon.

I need you to understand how incredibly fuckable she is. Not just her tight, curvilinear, pulsating, hot, yielding body, but herself. She radiates need and surrender naturally in a way that arouses me more than the most talented or endowed ex-lover could have hoped to match.

Aroused as she was, bringing her over the edge would be reasonably quick. Using her fingers to masturbate her titillated me, but also lacked the physical effectiveness of my adroit hands. Add my nimble tongue and well...yeeeeeeah.

With her downy pubes, it didn't matter so much, but I doubt she even trimmed. Her unworldliness appealed to me, but I'd be stripping it soon. The moisture matted center and dew drops scattered around the edges had a distinctive charm though.

Enveloped in her heady scent, I lapped up the inside of her drenched slit and relished swallows of what I'd only tasted previously. I followed the white rabbit to the source and rubbed up her clit with my nose. 

"Baaaby, yes! Ahhhhhh, emnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnuh! Thaank- Ohhhhhh!"

Apparently she experienced receiving good head for the first time on that night with me, because she moaned, and babbled, and squealed in surprise at each twist of tongue or graze of teeth. I'd swear that she purred too.

With a last quick lick, I extracted and turned my head, despite her groans and exclamations of distinct disapproval. I didn't bother reassuring her that time, knowing she'd like what required the pause for readjustment.

I nipped lightly at her swollen outer lip, then progressively harder. She responded with cries of pleasure, rising with my bite force until I wouldn't nip harder for fear breaking her skin or hurting her. I licked and caressed where my teeth had traveled, bringing further happy exclamations from my little temptress. 

I blew and breathed on her clit in turn, making her squeal more. Again, time was a factor, but her reaction got filed away for future use.

Gently, I took her pussy lips on either side of her clit between my teeth and chewed them back and forth to rub the furtive nub.

"More, please Baby, more?"

I moved my jaw quicker and pressed my teeth firmer.

"Harder, please?"

Unwilling to bite down harder, I pinched beside my teeth with my thumb and index while pumping her with my first two fingers of my other hand.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Baaaaaaaby, I love you!"

She stiffened, screeched, and settled.~~~

After her tremors stopped, I crawled up the bed and spooned in cozily behind her.

"I love you too, Angel." I answered my new girlfriend as she descended into dreamland.

Sleep didn't come quite so readily to me. Attempting to share a bed with someone I found physically attractive was still novel and challenging. Moving might wake her, so I diverted myself with looking over sleeping head into her room...or her apartment rather. 

The mini-fridge, radiator, and such didn't interest me, beyond noting austere and cramped conditions. Perfectly clean and neat, just tiny. Her clothes and media collections intrigued me more. Not as much for their content – although I took the time to memorize a few titles – but the amount and consistency of organization.

Her outfits were separated by level of dress - casual to formal - and further by the predominate color of each outfit - in rainbow order and then from light to dark within each color.

Her books were arranged by author's last name, author's first name (i.e. Adams, Douglas; Adams, Richard; Adams, Robert), series, and publication order (i.e. The Magician's Nephew as the sixth chronicle of Narnia). Her DVDs, however, were arranged by series and chronological order (i.e. Underworld: Rise of the Lycans; Underworld; Underworld: Evolution; Underworld: Awakening).

The impulse to displace a few to mess with her gripped me. (I have a few times since. Watching her immediately spot and correct any "errors" is jolly fun.)

It occurred to me that moving her into my place would cost nearly nothing and save her more than half her salary. A guest bedroom could be cleared so she could have a room of her own and she'd be closer to the hospital. And I liked the idea of coming home to her and of her in my bed...

I told my friends as much that night at my house along with my intention to move her in that Sunday, having dropped my girlfriend at the hospital and passed a dull day at the office. Their response brought me back to earth.

"You haven't known her a week, dumbass." Teeg pronounced readily.

"Slower, she's emotionally retarded," Melody cautioned, "Did she ask to move in with you, Kay?"

"No," I answered defiantly. Stereotypical or not, I've a temper to match my hair, "I haven't even spoken with her about the prospect yet. It's just a beneficial and logical idea."

The five of them exchanged glances indicating that I'd done something unmistakably wrong and trying to nominate a representative to disabuse me of my notion. I glowered at the hookah. I was loath to be cooperative, but could still be sure they'd be right. Nic nodded exasperated.

"Honey, you can't just move Jenny like a chess piece. You need to talk and gain consent before you make habitation plans for another human being."

"Okay," that made sense. I'm big enough to admit that, "but I can't imagine she'll say no to me."

"Can you imagine any girl saying no to you?" Melody asked, irritated.

"You always have," I wryly shot back.

A second awkward silence graced the table as they exchanged more glances. It couldn't be my trifling with Melody. That'd been happening for years, just a running joke at this point.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Teeg jumped in, "Kay, you understand that you can't continue to fuck other girls here once she moves in, right?"

"I don't wanna," I don't want any other girls in my house. Only her.

Teeg seemed slightly bummed, but Adrianne and Elle, Nic, and Melody all gazed at me as though I were a small, dimwitted child who'd unlocked cold fusion.

We went on drinking, smoking, chatting, and playing, but I added contemplation to my night. My friends immediately recognized my overstepping and directly prevented it. Would she? The sweet girl who floundered with chopsticks for fear that getting a fork might disappoint me? What else had I forced...?

Toward the end of the evening, I drew Adrianne aside into my kitchen on an obvious pretense, to help me get more drinks or something.





My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04



"Adrianne, can you recommend a therapist for me?"

"Finally going to try a little anger management?" 

"No, I still prefer my anger unmanaged. I mean for her."

"For her?"

"Yeah. I know there's been issues throughout her adolescence, so it might just be good for her. But I mainly want someone she can go to if I'm trampling on her. She's so shy that she can't even keep eye contact with me, let alone quarrel. I don't think she has any close friends and she's still not ready to even meet all you guys yet."

"Alright. There's hundreds of therapists in Seattle. It'd probably be good to choose one who specializes in couple's counseling, and maybe social anxiety if she's as deeply shy as you think. Do you know if she has any demographic preferences? Male, female, age...?"

"This may sound weird, but do you know any who are into RPGs or like SciFi...stuff?"

"I can ask. You know hobby compatibility's not usually considered important when choosing a therapist?"

"I know. She's so enthralled with them though. It's the only topic where she'll talk on without stuttering her words or hesitating for my opinion. And you should see how elaborately organized her books and DVDs are. I think she might have an easier time opening up if she can talk nerd for awhile first."

Adrianne frowned ever so slightly and a subtle change came over her, like the difference between talking about a law and giving legal advice.

"Does she have anything else organized to a great extent?"

"Her clothes. By color and then darkness. But I don't think she's OCD or anything. Her silverware is just all thrown in a drawer and I don't think she makes her bed at all."

"Is she physically awkward at all? Difficulty manipulating objects or a tendency to trip, knock things over, or spill? Or demonstrate any odd, repetitive physical movements?"

"She rocks back and forth sometimes when she's nervous and she has trouble with chopsticks. I've seen her spill. She's just klutzy though. That doesn't make her mentally incompetent."

"No. Is Jenny very literal or does she have trouble using or understanding metaphor?"

"Maybe, but she's very well spoken in any case. Aside from stuttering sometimes. So she doesn't always understand exactly what's meant? Big fucking deal."

"Does she ever seem fixated on what most people would evaluate as a minor problem?"

"Yes," I answered cautiously, no longer glib.

"Kay, I think maybe you should sit." She motioned me to an armchair. 

I wanted to tell her to fuck off. That psychiatry was a bullshit way to leech money out of sad people who didn't like themselves. That she's fucking scum with less credibility and bearing than the greeting card industry. And I wanted to beg her to please, please not tell me what I didn't want to know. 

But I sat frozen in my Corinthian leather armchair, helpless. My hands clenched and unclenched into fists impotently. Rage, fear, and grief are all useless reactionary emotions in the face of Adrianne's professional ethos. I shook my head unknowingly, involuntarily predisposed to deny whatever truth she gave me.

Tim McGraw's "Don't Take the Girl" strained through from the balcony.

"Kay," Adrianne's hand rested lightly on my shoulder, "this is not a diagnosis. Just looking at circumstantial evidence observed over a few days, it sounds like Jenny might have Asperger Syndrome. It's a pervasive development disorder associated with the autism-"

"She's fucking not," Adrianne's one of my dearest friends and a credit to her field. Despite the discipline I'd developed to combat sentimentalism, I responded to her in unintelligent anger. I felt it, I knew it, and I allowed it. "That's bullshit! Whatever the PC term for retarded is right now, she's fucking not. She's smart damnit. She's better at statistics than I am! She's smart, Adrianne, *sob* she's smart."

Adrianne wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pacified me as my childish behavior warranted. She's an excellent shrink with a very high interpersonal intelligence, and so she understood why I was so upset before I did.

"You haven't exploited her, Kay." Adrianne reassured me gently, "It's possible that she felt a greater level of appreciativeness and attraction because you showed kindness, but she's not incapacitated. If she gave consent, that's the same as any other capable 20 year old adult giving consent. You don't need to feel guilty."

Adrianne waited until I found my pride and quit my sobbing.

"If anything, people with Asperger's tend to have higher than average test scores in math and hard sciences, just difficulty engaging in standard communication and behavior. It's like being color blind or having hearing damage, they just have difficulty perceiving and assimilating things that most people take for granted. It frequently goes undiagnosed, especially if not considered until the adulthood of a 'quirky' - but fully functional - member of society. The bigger concerns are comorbidities like depression or anxiety."

It was a lot to take in at once. Adrianne answered the only important question, but raised several more. There would need to be research, expected value calculations, and optional courses of action. For that moment though...

"How do I help her, Adrianne?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I regretted asking my girlfriend if I was a submissive before the words left my mouth. What she calls the "imp of the perverse" made me ask. Her immediate embrace heartened me. Her hesitation to answer didn't. She isn't hesitant.

"I'm very drunk and I may not phrase this the way I want... I love you, Kitten... You are certainly the adjective. That you are submissive is self-evident. I love you for that whole gentleness about every aspect of you... You may be the noun. I don't know if I like admitting that. What rubric?... I think that we should talk about with Dr. Caldwell on tomorrow, maybe?"

She's reeeeeally drunk and just came twice. It's not fair for me to ask for a better answer. I couldn't get a more supportive one.

"Okay, Baby. I love you, too." She falls asleep. I watch her regularly breathe until I fall asleep too.

She's gone for work when I wake at around 10am. I shower, etc. My girlfriend calls at around 11:30. Then I wait for Nic's knock.

She dresses like the prettiest boy in the world. Not manly, just wearing boy clothes. It's sexy, but weird.

"Hi Hon, I brought buffalo chicken and potato wedges." We sit to eat, "So what did you and Kay get up to last night?"

I tell her everything. Nic has become a close friend and Kay says that she's our "relationship sponsor" so I can tell her anything. She laughed at "Fuck-a-Bunny" with me for about ten minutes. The submissive thing didn't make her laugh.

"Hey, no. I blasted Teeg because she talked like you were a seeing-eye dog that Kay'd gotten to perform a service and also happened to appreciate for its companionship. There's nothing wrong with being submissive or being a submissive. That's Melody's soapbox, but she deals with domestic violence every day so she's hypersensitive to potential victimization. But put that out of your head for right now. What's this fantasy you need help with?"

I stuttered some telling Nic all about what had happened. I dork-out completely when I try to tell her what I want to happen.

"I, I saw Teeg's video, and I, I...I want to, to try, to try being tied. For my girlfriend."

"You'd like me to tie you to the bed as a surprise for Kay? Something like that?"

I shook my head yes.

"Have you ever done bondage before?"

I shook my head no.

"Okay, Sweetie, you're real cute, but I am starting to feel like I'm talking to Lassie. Do you watch 'Big Band Theory' at all?"

"I love 'Big Bang Theory'!" I really do.

"Hon, we're going to text just like Raj and that girl from Garfunkel and Oates, okay?"

"Yes!" Nic is so nice.

"Do u know how u want 2 b tied up?"

"To the bed?"

"Position?"

"On my back, spread-eagle?"

"Where did u learn spread-eagle?"

"Originally in 'The Lost World' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but from her more."

"Lol" (Gratuitous. I can observe her laughing out loud.) "Kay talked bondage 2 u? Guidelines?"

"No clamps, hoods, gags, or hot liquids, but 'blindfolded and tied up with scarves...[is] okay.'"

"K. Basic safety, scarves can tighten n cut circulation if tied wrong. I know more safety than knots, cuz I never the 1 tying ;)"

She puts her phone down.

"I'll put cuffs on your wrists and ankles, then tie them to the bed with scarves and blindfold you with a scarf. That will be really safe and I'll leave enough give so you can untie yourself over time if you get scared. Okay?"

"Uh, yes. But I don't know if we have that many of...those things?"

"Sweetie, look around. Do you see how every chair back, sofa arm, and horizontal surface is six or so inches lower than Kay's waist? How ridiculously reinforced the ceiling fixtures are? The soft, thick, washable rug about the size of a twin bed that lies on the kitchen floor for no apparent reason? Kay designed this house. Kay likes sex and preparedness. She'll have enough cuffs in her toybox. C'mon."

She leads me to the bed and tells me to get undressed and lie under the covers. She goes into the closet for four sets of lined cuffs with keys and five scarves. She uses them to tie me as we agreed, then blindfolds me with the last one.

"Hon, it's still only 3pm. Kay won't be back for hours, so we'll do a test run and make sure you hold up okay for an hour in that position. I'll be back to check on you in 15 minutes, but I'm just in the next room if you need anything."

After about two minutes (I guess), I realize that I haven't leveled up our characters for the D&D session tonight. I do it in my head in the next minute or so. Only 57 minutes to go...huh.

I'll tell you about the first time she took me to D&D.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My girlfriend brought me a stuffed Kyo cat when she picked me up from work, which was super sweet. I gave her a giant hug and she whispered to me.

"It seemed appropriate. Every time you hug me, I turn into a great big ginger pussycat." I didn't correct her that Sohmas only take their zodiac form when sick, tired, or hugged by a member of the opposite sex. (It was just too sweet.)

I put Kyo in my backpack with the D&D gear and she drove us to a Red Mill Burgers for dinner before we went on to the D&D session. She ordered us bleu cheese and bacon burgers, fries, and Mandarin chocolate malts. I hadn't bothered with breakfast or lunch, so I inhaled mine.

Something bothered me though. She wasn't touching me. She hadn't kissed me all day. My girlfriend spoke as we ate.

"We are moving very fast." My heart stopped for a second until her next sentence. "I like that, but it can be scary. You may need someone unbiased and knowledgeable to talk to, especially if we keep this pace. My friend recommended Dr. Caldwell, who's also a gamer. You two can spend 45 minutes a week talking about RPGs. Or any concerns you may have. Or I can come with you when you two want. So long as you have an outlet, okay?"

I nodded and chewed. It seemed like a good idea.

"I'd also like you to sleep over at my house a few times, and consider moving in with me if you lik-"

"I'd love to move in with you!" I was in her lap with my arms around her neck before I'd realized I'd moved.

She leaned in close to my ear and meowed. We both cracked up and the rest of the meal passed lightheartedly.

D&D night always animates me, but walking in with her was better. I got to feel like I belonged to someone in front of people I know. Even our characters worked together. I finally had a tank for my swashbuckler to flank with...[Several pages removed for reader benefit – yw, Nic]...with the Oni Mage and all its ogres dead, we split the loot.

We said bye to everyone and she was specifically invited back by our Dungeon Master. I was super elated. I wanted to dance around shouting, "that's my girlfriend!"

At her car, she stopped me.

"Kitten, do you want to start our sleepovers at my house tonight?"

I smiled up at her and nodded.

She kissed me. Not in a sweet way. In an "I want you now" way.

"First thing's first, Hotness. The Tennis Club's only a few miles north of here and closed. Get in." She opened my door and tapped my bottom. 

We were blocked in by other cars. She cursed when she realized, but then shrugged and turned to kiss me more. (I hadn't been thinking of sex that night, but it's hard to think of anything else once she's up for it.) Her hand caressed my tummy under my shirt. And moved down. 

I broke the kiss and looked around frantically. She swallowed a laugh.

"Beautiful, the windows are tinted, it's dark, and we're parked directly in front of a garage door. It's possible that someone might notice us necking. No one will be able to see where my hands are, Shy Girl."

I started to apologize for being silly, but her kiss interrupted. Her hand drove into my pants and panties. She brushed through my pubes and whispered "soft" into our kiss. The kiss itself became hard and fast. I lost my breath and had to break again.

The cars had cleared, so she dropped the top and backed out. I guessed that she was driving to the club she mentioned. It was starting to sound like an okay idea.

In a few minutes, we pulled up to a security gate. She keyed in a code that took us into a deserted, dark parking lot surrounded by tall evergreens. I could hear the surf nearby. I got peaks of the tennis courts through the trees. She came to a stop in a two-lane corridor of Pacific Silver Fir leading to a rotary at the main clubhouse entrance.

"Sexy, we're covered from above and on all sides. No one can see or hear us. Only about 50 people in the world have the code and none of them have a motive to be here at midnight. Complete privacy."

~~~It felt so sexy and naughty to be outside in her gleaming black-on-black convertible under a canopy of trees with only the light from the moon and stars filtering through. And with her. 

I surprised her by lunging over to her side of the car to slide my tongue into her mouth and my hand into her jeans for once. My tongue was welcomed, but I couldn't get my fingers between her and her tight Calvin's. She snickered and popped open her fly for me.

I very seriously reached a finger under her panties, through her bush, and into her snatch. Then withdrew it to see her wetness glisten in the moonlight and cool in the coastal night breeze. I coyly sucked my finger at her.

For someone who likes dishing out teasing, my girlfriend doesn't stomach it well.

"Naked and kneeling in the backseat." (The "now" was implied.)

I climbed into the backseat. She reclined the passenger side all the way back and unlocked the glove box for some things. I thought I'd lost my clothes remarkably quickly, but I felt her strapon behind me the moment I knelt.

She rested her chin on my shoulder. Her knees spread mine. Her breasts, hips, and abs pressed into me. One arm snaked around my shoulders, just below her chin. The other crossed one of my hips to claim my pussy. 

"I am going to fuck you." Her fingertips played knick-knack paddywhack on my clit. "Any objections?"

I shook my head. Her fingers curved into a hook and lifted me a couple centimeters from the inside. She dropped me back instantly, but it was...jolting.

"Any objections?" She repeated, quietly.

"Nu-none." I was far from objecting.

"Feel." She brought both my hands behind my back and placed them on her strapon. It wasn't the Flurry. It wasn't the Mr. Johnson either, but it was certainly bigger than the Flurry. She continued in a controlled whisper, "I'm going to stretch my girlfriend to suit me. Understand?" 

"Yesss," I hissed, wanting it.

"Bend." She pinned my hands crossed at the small of my back with her left hand. Her right hand replaced her chin at the base of my neck. She pushed me firmly down onto the reclined passenger seat backrest. 

My bottom was well above my shoulders. My back was deeply arched. But my head, neck, and shoulders were aligned and supported by the padded black leather backrest of the passenger seat.

Even with my head partially turned, all I could see was black leather upholstery. I smelled the soft leather, earthy trees, salty ocean, and our arousal. The thudding of my heart in my ears overwhelmed my hearing of anything else but her commands.

"Stay put." Her hand left the back of my neck while she mounted me. I groaned as her new strapon invaded me slowly. It stretched me slightly, (as she'd promised) but not painfully. I felt so solidly full.

She remained unmoving in me. Her right hand returned to my upper back with the thumb on the back of my neck and the fingers to my collarbone.

She dominated me in that position. She had made me vulnerable and overpowered. I felt conquered and loved. Then the pummeling started, and I mostly felt her strapon. It felt good.

She hammered into me, sliding through my liquid fire and nailing to my cervix with every blow. An outpouring of sexy, dirty talk came from above me. (It was heavily weighted with first person singular possessive pronouns and adjectives.)

Soon the combination of her provoking words, violent thrusts, and governing posture had me cumming with such sudden intensity that it brought silent tears along with loud moans. My body collapsed, spent.

But she hadn't finished taking her pleasure from me yet. 

My girlfriend remained motionless through the throes of my orgasm. Then she released my arms to fall limply at my sides. My spirit was willing and the sensations were breathtaking, but I lacked the energy to move my arms toward my head. I couldn't have supported my own weight with my knees to save my life. 

Her hands grasped my hips, fingers dug in, and continued her onslaught with renewed fervor. My exhaustion at her hands excited her. Her pace quickened and stabilized into a marathon of strokes. I lay in bliss, unable to do anything but moan, sigh, and whimper with the pleasure.

After awhile, I heard her say "...my pretty little helpless doll," as her thumb squeezed between my cheeks to tease my rosebud. As she started to press for entrance, I yelped.

"Please don't?!" Her thumb was gone before my next heartbeat, "I, you can still, I'm sorry."

Like a light switch had turned her off, she stopped her thrusts entirely and pulled out of me. Her strapon lay against the length of my thigh and her lips brushed my ear.

"It's okay, Angel. I don't need to take your ass. I love you." She popped the seat up and rolled me onto my back. 

She was still kneeling over my body. I gazed up at her. Her fingernails traced the tear trails on my face. She removed the strapon and harness. 

My girlfriend covered my naked body with hers. Butterfly kisses covered my face and neck. Sweet whispers of love and charm filled my ears. The back of her hand pushed rhythmically against my mound as she masturbated herself to a mellow orgasm atop me. At her gentle growls of completion, I cried beneath her again. I was fulfilled, loved, and happy.~~~

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My personal phone buzzes while I pour over Excel sheets in my office. Grateful to Nic for the distraction, I open her picture text to see my girlfriend tied to my bed with a scarf covering her eyes and my bedspread covering her body. The caption reads, "U should cum home!"

I save the files, logout, and wave bye to Sherry.

Mr. Henriksen accosts me as he exits the elevator on our floor, returning from lunch.

"O'Brien? You're leaving early again today?"

I hold the picture up in front of him.

"That's the cute blonde from the office party last month?"

"Yes, sir." I'm just beamin'.

"Go!" He hits the down button for me.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 04



"Yes, sir." I get in the elevator all excited like a woman coming home to her bound and blindfolded girlfriend. Some things don't fucking need a simile, okay?

I blaze home to Halestorm's "Mz. Hyde" and open the door to Nic's knowing smirk.

"What up, Fuck-a-Bunny?" I laugh at that. Then think.

"What all did she tell you?"

"Essentially, that she still wanted me to tie her up for her pussy-assed bitch of a girlfriend who couldn't even tell her that she is a submissive. She may have used other words and emotions of course."

"I don't know that she is a submissive, Nic."

"Oh, yes you fucking do, Kay. Hell, I wanted to top her today." Nic scoffs before even hearing my carefully laid rationalizations, "You may not dress up in a leather bustier and make her call you 'Mistress' and she may not wear a collar and crawl after you on all fours, but you two are in a dominant/submissive relationship. What is more, you both want to be in a dominant/submissive relationship with each other. The sooner you can take responsibility enough to admit that to yourself and to her, the sooner you can stop feeling guilty and she can stop feeling insecure. You twit."

"Okay," Nic has a simultaneously annoying and useful habit of being right about these things, "I'll go talk to her."

"The hell you will, you great idiot. You'll go fuck her," Nic answers to my relief, "She's been tied for about a half an hour on what she thinks is an hour long dry run. She expects me to walk back in any minute and doesn't expect you for hours. You can talk after."

"I don't know how to thank you, Nic."

"I may ask you to return the favor and/or for a guided tour of your ludicrous toy collection," she winks as she opens the door to leave, "I'll definitely want the blow-by-blow, and – as fun as it is to make her stutter through explanations of your sexcapades – I'm going to want it from you."

I walk to my bedroom to claim my girlfriend...







Sorry for the wait. This chapter probably could have been broken into two, but I couldn't decide where. 

Also, Jenny is a submissive who happens to have AS. I have no anecdotal or statistical evidence to suggest a higher or lower average of sexual submissives among people with AS. Her AS behaviors throughout the first 4 chapters are based on those of a personal friend who's been diagnosed. (Though she's obsessively interested in South American art, which I'm even less qualified to write about.) I in no way mean to imply that all people with AS experience the same symptoms to the same degrees or that people with AS - or the people in their lives - are all affected in the same way. 

Comments welcome!



My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 05



Continuation of "My GF; Fucking & How We Met" and not recommended as a standalone work. The opening scene may be fun for all cummers, but you'll likely get very lost soon after without having read the earlier chapters.

Fictional story containing graphic lesbian sex.

My girl lays spread eagle, cuffed to my king-sized bed. Scarves are tied around the bedposts, the four sets of pink fur cuffs attached to her limbs, and over her honey-golden brown eyes. Only a thin bedspread covers her hot, naked body. 

Nic did a great job of rendering her helpless without causing fear of pain, danger, or stiffness for several hours. Tying the scarves to the cuffs - instead of to her slim wrists and ankles directly - means no risk of circulation damage and that she can untie herself a limb at a time if things go awry. I should remember to send Nic a fruit basket or something.

Although fantasies about bondage play with her have beleaguered me, I've never felt right about doing it. She's so obedient sexually that tying her down seemed unnecessarily cruel, but - since she volunteered - I'll accommodate happily and perform on her vulnerable body. 

The blindfolding scarf though, that's the Golden Fleece. That's what frees me. If she can't plead with her eyes-

"Baby?" She must sense me staring from the door frame.

"How did you know it was me?"

"You smell like you," she giggles.

"Ah." Nic smells of the cologne Dr. Hartford buys. I, of course, smell delicately of lavender, because she likes it.

I smile and seat myself on the edge of the bed so that I can stroke her long blonde hair.

"This is so sweet and very sexy of you." A chaste kiss emphasizes my point. "Are you comfy, Cutie?"

"Mmm hmm." She smiles at my praise.

"You know that I love you and you mean the world to me?"

"I love you, too?" She also knows that a qualifying question like that usually comes right before or after I get forceful.

~~~"Good. I want you to keep that in mind. Remember while I'm teasing your defenseless body until you think your pretty little head will explode that you arranged this yourself of your own volition. You knew full well that I'd abuse the privilege. My little captive."

Even under the bedspread, I see her full-body shiver.

I stand and remove my clothes, not making a show of it since she can't see, but tossing each article onto the bedspread so that she can hear and feel me get naked. So slowly and so painstakingly I pull the bedspread down to reveal one blemish-free inch of her skin at a time. 

She has a rosy blush all over her outstretched body, so I only take a few moments to take advantage of peering at the lower half of her delicate face, the extent of her smooth arms and legs, the slope and shape of her supple b-cup breasts, the flat surface of her trim tummy, and the open flower of her beautiful pussy. I look away quickly though, knowing how easily embarrassed she becomes.

I've licked every inch of her body. I've spanked her, talked dirty to her, and tickled her. I've fucked her orally, vaginally, and anally, with dozens of different implements, placed in endless positions, in every room of my house, and several places in my car. Nothing makes my girlfriend blush like me or anyone else continuously looking at her without interaction. Naked or clothed, stranger or friend, she gets very uncomfortable and squirmy. Causing her to twist that way is more maltreating than teasing though, so I knock it off straightaway.

Crawling onto the bed and over her on all fours, I bend my neck to kiss those malleable lips in a much less chaste fashion. I note simultaneously that her time spent bound and awaiting me has already caused her arousal to begin flowing. I keep kissing her while I wet a finger in her fountain, then stop to fingerpaint her lips with her own flavor.

I giggle in a rather undignified manner as she quickly licks her lips. I repeat the process of dipping and painting, and she licks it right off again like Dr Pepper lip gloss. The next time I paint all over her upper lip. I guffaw as she shamelessly manages to lick her juice even from the bottom of her nose with her quick little tongue.

Then I paint the insides of her nostrils, and watch in amusement as she tosses her head and stretches her tongue, snorting and pouting as she can't reach in her nose, try as she might.

"That's not nice," she grumbles to me.

"I don't think you're grasping the whole 'teasing your defenseless body' concept, Little Captive." I laugh at the ridiculous face she's making as she wrinkles and wiggles her nose, half-hidden behind the scarf. "And this is the part where I am being nice. I'm creating a proper bouquet for you while you're all tied up."

That said, I reach to my moistened pussy and add my wetness to hers in her nostrils. Since my scent and taste are stronger to her than hers, I know it must be even more irritating. She's wise enough to pout silently this time, so I nip my girlfriend's shoulder to help her let the whimper out.

I rise to straddle her rib cage. Playing aimlessly with her breasts and rolling her nipples, I get her moaning for me and fog her mind.

"Mmmmm...teasing you has me all hot and bothered, Little Captive. What should we do about that?"

Her head pops up and her tongue sticks out, all enthusiasm and no subtlety. I adore her.

I've no intention of making things so simple though.

"Lay your head back down, Kitten." I pet the hair on the crown of her golden head, then tangle my hand in her messy locks. I grip, but don't pull.

Scooting forward, I plant my knees next to her ears and begin nosily masturbating above her. She strains to lift her head to help out, but my grip keeps her head on the comfy pillow, trapped by her gorgeous hair like Absalom.

In its own way, pleasuring myself so near her may be worse than bringing her to the edge over and over without letting her cum. The smell of my excitement affects her in the same way that the smell of smoke does most people, rousing an inexorable urge to find the source and quench the fire.

I don't plan to actually get myself off of course, but she's begging before I get a second finger inside. I think she's come to think of my climaxes as her responsibility, which is cute.

"Baby, please? I want to do that."

"Uhhhha, do what, Playmate?"

"Please you."

"Awww, Pretty Girl, you're pleasing me just fine."

"But it's my job to, to..."

"Your job to what, Darling? You're a pharmacy tech and I don't need any pills."

"To make you cum. It's my job to make you cum. And I want to."

My hand releases her hair to pet her while my other hand takes hold of the headboard. My knees are still too close together for her face to reach my dripping pussy. She exclaims, "Belgium!" [a SciFi ultimate swearword --Nic] and tries to inveigle her way up. I giggle again as her nose and the cashmere scarf tickle my inner thighs.

"Alright, Hotness." With both hands on the headboard to take my weight, I lower myself onto her waiting tongue and press her head back down to the pillow.

Her eager tongue goes mad, licking my folds, thrusting inside me, flicking my clit, and sliding through my wetness seemingly all at once.

"Good girl! Good, good, ah-AH, very good girl!" I'm careful to let her breathe and not smash her pretty face, but I feel the tightening, lovely cramping from my knee caps up through my ripping abs and tensed shoulders. "Fuck, that tongue, ack!"

My hips jerk and my breath hitches. I struggle not to just mash into her, primarily because I don't want it that way with her. Also, I know the sex'll be better if I let her do "her job" the way she wants.

Her hot little mouth closes around my clit, sucking hard and staying with me.

"Good, right, yes. Uhhh, FUCK! Just there, Beautiful!"

My hands have a death grip on the headboard and my muscles strain to keep my sex hovering above her sweet face. Her tongue flexes on my clit from beneath, opening the floodgates and setting off Old Faithful with a resounding growl to shower her mouth and chin in cum.

"Yes, my little captive, that's definitely your job." I slump backwards off her and lay my head on her thigh. "You're fucking tenured, Kitten." 

I rest like that for a time, my head pillowed on her firm, warm thigh and an arm stretched under her legs to hold the underside of her other knee. The fragrance of her love overtakes me and I doze in the relaxation of her. 

Her legs start to twitch and I realize that she's tapping her feet. Poor baby is still all tied up and horny, but has the good sense not to complain verbally.

"Aww, Hotness, do you need some attention?" I turn my head to lazily lick the inside of her thigh.

"Please, Baby?" If she's not aware that it's going to be harder than that, she should be.

In response, I kneel between her legs and kiss the ticklish skin of her smooth knees, then the sensitive skin of her supple thighs, then the outer lips of her quivering pussy. Her incendiary mewling and frustrated groans continue as I nibble and lick back down to her knees and kiss back up to her center a few more times. 

On my final upswipe, I curl the sides of my tongue to scoop up a dollop of her cream. I crawl up her bound body, gently hold her mouth open, and tongue-kiss her flavor to her to mix with mine.

"Savor that for a few moments, Little Captive." I whisper to her while she moans and raises her hips as high as her bondage allows. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit before we get to the main event."

I grab the baby wipes from my nightstand and wash the drying cum off her fey face. She's going to be tied down for me for awhile and I don't want my girlfriend to feel all grubby.

A quick search finds her cell phone in the pocket of her discarded pants. I walk back toward the bed to get my wireless headphones-

"Baby?" She doesn't do quiet or detached well.

"Yes, my little captive?" I pull up her atrocious pop collection. The music selection is to get her motor going faster, making my taste less material so long as I choose songs I know from her dancing around my house.

"I, I'm, you're-? You're not going to leave me here like this?" That would be cruel. I'm sort of amazed that she managed to be tied up alone for a few minutes while Nic left the room. There's certainly no need to leave her stewing and restless alone.

"No, Beautiful." I lean over the bed, cup her delicate chin, and kiss her slowly and lovingly while relishing our mingled tastes in her mouth. "I'm just completing my sensory optimization for you. You will see, smell, taste, hear, and feel only and exactly what I want you to experience."

I put on Katy Perry's "Dark Horse" in the earbuds for her to start listening while I cut together a quick playlist of a dozen other pop songs ending with Jay-Z's "Holy Grail" for a finale. The music -- which she customarily blasts -- is loud enough in the noise cancelling headphones so that I can hear it and she can't hear anything else. The song is mostly over by the time I have the playlist and my implements lined up.

{Do you dare to do this?}-{Cause I'm coming at you like a dark horse}

My lips return to hers for some more unhurried kissing, but my fingertips on her breastbone can feel her heart race and when Katy sings "once you're mine, there's no going back" for the last time; there really isn't.

{Can't stop, coming in hot}-{I should be locked up right on the spot, it's so on right now}

The kissing intensifies and my hand goes to her neglected pussy. My oral efforts are timed to the lyrics while my manual skills stay with the baseline. So when Pink sings "dirty little freaks," I pull out of our kiss briefly to flicker my tongue on her pretty pink lips and pearly white teeth while two fingers keep drumming her g-spot to the beat.

Then the song ends and so do my manipulations of her body. She has just enough time to whimper in protest before the next song in the queue starts and I resume teasing her with an entirely different tactic.

{I'm lifted and I like it}-{Boy, you've got me inspired}

I ignore her yearning pussy, despite her none too faint signs of need. My fingers instead pinch and tweak her nipples in time to the beat and I "make the most of life" as Mariah suggests by oh so tantalizingly, patiently, and dominatingly decelerating our kiss. She whimpers, mewls, and bucks under me, but that turns me on even more.

By the song's end, her haste has her screaming frustration into my smiling mouth.

{Got me so high, and then she dropped me}-{But she got me, she got me, she got me bad}

Kneeling again between her now shaking legs, I fingerbang her to the song's rhythm while my lips and tongue move wetly all across her torso. I pause to leave a bright hickey on her soft, pale skin each time Adam Lavine sings out "lucky strike" to elicit sharp intakes of breath between her labored panting. 

The song ends and her "body rocking" continues although my fingers stop and she doesn't have "me inside" her anymore.

"Baby, ple-E-ease no? I'm so close!" she begs, but the song is over and I'm already switching positions.

{Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass?}-{Got that super bass}

My heat is directly over hers with my thighs spread over hers in the cowgirl position. For this song, I run my fingernails all over her body in the lightest of scratches while I hump into her to the booming baseline. Her hips try to hump back, but she's got nothing but cool air against her wide open pussy for all that she can feel what must be like steam coming off mine.

Somewhere in the song, she gives up begging and her sounds are an animalistic mix of inarticulate whimpers and moans. Her need under my control drives me and makes me unbelievably hot.

{You gimme some of you, I give you some of me}-{You look good, baby must taste heavenly}

Passed my boiling point, instead of just going down on my hypersexed girlfriend, I turn around to get into a 69 with her. Hands supporting my weight on the mattress, I back into her mouth while leaning forward to sample her "recipe" in an extended pussytease session with nips to her lips designed to further her sweet torture rather than provide her sweet release.

She, on the other hand, seems relatively earnest -- if distracted -- in her attempt to get me off ASAP. She fails to close the deal before the music dies and positions change out of the 69 and into a reverse cowgirl over her pretty mouth.

{Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude}-{But, tonight I'm fucking you}

Her vexed groan vibrates into me as I sit back up. I rub her tight, hard, pink nipples back and forth with the solid pressure of my thumbs to the lyrics while her talented tongue matches my pelvic thrusts to the beat. Luda's got me rolling my hips over her lips "on the springs" with me falling further for her. 

My orgasm approaches with my girlfriend's dedicated exertion, but doesn't crest before the song ends.

{It's a full moon tonight so we getting rowdy}-{Yeah we getting rowdy, g-g-getting rowdy}

I hold the headboard behind me and keep perfectly still as a sheer act of will. Realizing that she won't get any more touch until I cum, she redoubles her efforts and suckles my clit until my hips pop and my knees buckle under the force of my climax.

I miss a few beats, clinging to the solid headboard like a scaffold while she draughts down and licks up the cum she drew.

By the time Keisha sings "yum, like a lollipop," I'm back to her snatch taking long, lingering licks of her drenched slit to her now audible groans.

{Sweet nothing, sweet nothing}-{You're giving me such sweet nothing}

I lay on my belly, arms anchoring her thighs to the bed with their weight and my strength. My actions now have little to naught to do with either the tempo or the words of the song, other than the fact that I'm blowing on my maddened girlfriend's clit and licking "sweet nothings" over her snatch without trying to accomplish anything beyond spiking her desire.

That I'm doing in spades. My normally shy girl is louder than I've ever had her, partially because of the depths of her plummet into lust. Mostly though, she can't hear herself. She probably doesn't recognize that a stream of consciousness torrent of dirty talk is flowing from her sweet mouth.

"Baby, just fuck me! Please?! Suck my clit! Fuck my pussy, shove your fingers in me! I need to cum! Please, please, Baby? Fuckme, fuckme, fuckme, fuckme, fuckme!" What started as a shout ended as a chanting whine. I gotta get more of that!

{I'm gonna change you like a remix}-{Then I'll raise you like a phoenix}

Unfortunately, she loses the ability to make words at all in mere seconds, so I sucked yelps and squeals from her instead along with her juices.

I bring my little captive to the edge and give her a half a verse to calm, then the edge, then calm, then the edge, always "taking the world back from a heart attack" until the song's closing line, when I decide to give her a song to earn her cum. 

{You wanna hot body}-{You better work, bitch}

Maintaining my pin on her hips with one arm, I push three fingers into her tight snatch. My fingers are irritatingly motionless and I chuckle as her desperate pussy contracts on them. Her whole body trembles with need and her pitiable mewling is breaking down my resolve.

My other hand slides between her cheeks, rubbing back and forth over her tight little anus. Once her sphincter relaxes with the heat and friction, I "work" an index finger deep into her willing ass, wriggling it within her to the bass.

I circle her clit and clitoral hood over and over with my talented tongue, spiraling out to her outer lips and back in to her throbbing clit. Only at the completion of Britney's dance rant do I let her hips loose to thrust herself over my extended fingers freely, index finger still hooked in her bottom.

{She wants to hit the clouds}-{Honey are you up there now?} 

I plunge my fingers into her, meeting her movements and keeping the beat. My oral assault on her clit persists in conveying her higher and higher, only matching the lyrics during the bounces.

Her mewling has become a frantic keening, tugging now at my heartstrings. I love her and she's been teased enough. It's time with the coming song in any case.

{Sipping from your cup til it runneth over}-{Holy grail}

I am "amazed to be in this space" with her. Her anal ring clamps on my finger, her snatch pulls my other fingers inside and compresses erratically, her clitty is strobing. She's biting her lip, tossing her head, and screaming voicelessly for a release from the plane of near torturous pleasure that I've locked her into.

My lips and teeth target her clit with devastating accuracy, giving her exactly the jolt she needs for the result she craves. 

My attentions spur her unto her climax, causing her whole gorgeous, sweat-soaked body to go rigid with an earthshattering orgasm. Her body contracts and shudders with sexual completion rushing out with the piercing of her pressure cooker. Everything within her exoduses.

I greedily lick up her cream in the aftermath, ~~~until I hear her crying. 

Sometimes she cries when an experience is really strong for her. For me, that just means that she's especially vulnerable and needs to be held ASAP. So I quickly wipe off any excess cum with baby wipes, uncuff her with the keys Nic left on the nightstand for me, remove her blindfold and earbuds, and snuggle my exhausted - but happy - freed little captive.

We lay in each others' arms for about an hour. She calms while I whisper kind, placating things into the crown of her sweet head.

"Baby?"

"Yes, Sweetness?"

"Can we just stay here?"

"No, Cutie. You have a playdate with your little geek friends and we're going." She groans, but it's important that she gets regular socialization in a safe environment.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 05



I don't know why she's complaining -- well I do, she loves the cuddles -- I'm the one that has to play a Neutral/Neutral Goliath Fighter with an INT of 6. It's not even as badass as it sounds, but I'm the noob so I get the boring-as-fuck tank.

"I swing my greathammer." Roll d20, roll 3d6, wait 3-5 minutes. "I swing my greathammer." Roll d20, roll 3d6, wait 3-5 minutes. "I swing my greathammer" and so on. Next campaign ...[*titters* Jenny is turning Kay into a geek *titters* -- Nic]...

We get back from D&D, and she's all tired out and happy, but we still need to talk.

Back in my bedroom, I lift her Gaz tee over her head from behind then pull off her panties and GIR pants together before removing her white sports bra. She kicks off her own shoes.

Naked, she crawls under the covers and watches as I remove my jacket, shoes, blouse, jeans, bra, and panties. I stand there for a moment under her gaze just letting her take me in. Then I wink at her, kill the lights, and spoon her in my snug bed.

"Kitten?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

"I talked to Nic. You are a submissive." I hug her tighter. "I love that about you. It's why we fit together so well and it makes complete sense that you would crave some authority in your life. It doesn't mean that you're any less smart, strong, or valuable and it doesn't mean that you don't have freewill and rights. Okay?"

"Okay." She seems more contented with my answer this time and wriggles back further into my embrace. My girlfriend's voice takes on a more mischievous quality as she continues, "What does it mean, Baby?"

"It means I get to spoil you when you're good and punish you when you're bad, then fuck you and cuddle you after either way."

"What if I'm really bad?"

"What kind of 'really bad' do you mean, Naughty Girl?"

"If I tried to run away?..."

Don't judge me. If she tried to leave, I'd do everything in my power to talk her into staying with me. That's all. (That and my world would stop turning if I failed.) But that's not what she wants to hear right now. Right now my girlfriend needs to hear that I'll never let her go.

"I'd tackle you before you got to the door, bend you over the dining room table, fuck you until you begged to cum, and then keep making you cum until you begged to stay."

"Mmmmm...deal." She jerks and twists in my arms as though to break loose.

I roll her onto her back, pin her arms above her head, and let my hair drape in her face, swathing her in lavender and tickling her nose and cheeks while descending ever lower and closer to her. My lips inches from hers, I let her feel wanted and loved at once.

"I am happy to bend your sexy ass over the table and make you scream for me, my naughty girl, but are you sure that's what you want right now? You were barely keeping your eyes open earlier."

"I am pretty sleepy, Baby."

"Alright, Cutie. Why don't I go back to snuggling you and telling you how amazing you are?"

I feel her nose brush against mine as she nods, so I curl up with her again and murmur to her about how wonderful, sweet, smart, cute, sexy, etc she is and most of all how she's mine. Once I hear her breath steady and slow, I turn on my audiobook of Moll Flanders in my headphones and try to fall asleep myself.

Taking loving care of my gentle girl had a sharp learning curve as a skill. I think I'm getting it down. I used to suck at it...

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

We had sex in the backseat of my convertible down at the Tennis Club and I maybe fucked her more forcefully than I intended. Actually, I certainly fucked her more forcefully than I intended. When I realized that I'd made her cry, I didn't handle the situation as well as I should have for her.

"Are you okay, Angel?"

She nodded, but tears still ran freely down her sylphlike face in the silver moonlight. My girlfriend appeared so fragile, so excruciatingly, delicately, beautiful. And I made her cry.

Despite a track record of sexual acts some would find depraved, that was the first and only time I've ever been disgusted with myself. 

I stood hunched over the backseat and inspected her girly bits as best I could by the light of the moon.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart," I tried to comfort her while I looked with my eyes and hands. There was certainly no blood and there didn't seem to be any tissue damage. So I didn't cause physical injury. Yay? "Just checking to see if I hurt you."

"No, you-, you didn't hurt me, Baby." Her voice sounded so weak. I should have believed her. She doesn't lie. But her prone body shook in nakedness. 

Wordlessly, I put her cartoony pants on her, bundled her in my big leather jacket, and belted her into the passenger seat. I drove in silence while she leaned curled in a fetal position against the back of her seat. Neither of us said anything until I pulled off the 5 at her exit and she stirred confused.

"Baby, where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home, Kiddo."

"B-but you p-p-prom-promised I could st-stay with you tonight?"

If she wanted a puppy or a kidney, that was the moment to ask. I'd hardly deny her anything, but I couldn't believe what she wanted. 

"Okay. We can go to my house. Whatever you'd like, Kiddo."

She coiled back up, contented to be riding home with me. The guilt and quiet ate at me until I had to say something.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Baby. We're going to your place now." She smiled at me and patted my leg. The knife in my guts twisted.

"It's not okay. You have to tell me if I'm doing something that's hurting you." Really? I was blaming her?

She looked thoroughly befuddled.

"The coffee you get me in the mornings makes me shaky and it's hard to sort pills?" She hesitated to say.

What?

"I'll stop that too then. But I'm talking about the fact that I just held you down and fucked you to tears?"

"No that's not...I liked that. It was really *uhnh* though."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No, n-not at all."

I exhaled the breath I wasn't conscious of holding. I really thought I'd done something horrible to my innocent girl. But that brought up a new fear.

"Kiddo, I need to know that you'll tell me if I do things you don't like. Like the coffee?"

"I, I know. It was nice though. And you're so nice. And I don't want you to not want to be nice and not want me. Because I don't like the nice thing?" She sounded as confused as she sounded.

Her day started at 6am. I knew that. I also knew she had been through some huge emotional pendulum swings and was fucked out. It's not like I was in a Zen state either. Adrianne told me not to bring the subject of Asperger's up until after the shrink talked with my girlfriend anyway, because I'd be sure to muck it up. 

I am a great idiot.

"Has anyone ever talked to you about Asperger syndrome, Kiddo?" 

Now that, that she understood. She knew exactly what Asperger syndrome meant and exactly what it meant to her. My girlfriend's head hung and her words ended in sobs.

"I hoped you wouldn't notice." Big tears welled in her honey-golden brown eyes. "Or that you wouldn't care."

Damn the Imp of the Perverse! I pulled over, no mean feat even in the small hours in Seattle. She wouldn't cry from being hurt or scared ever again. Not on my watch. And especially not from my actions.

I unbelted and wrapped her up in me.

"No, Angel. It's not like that. I don't mind, but I do care." She risked a hopeful nod. "I worry that I may inadvertently hurt you without you protesting or me noticing. But I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm not good at it and have made a mess of things." I petted her in my arms. "I love you. It doesn't change anything and it's nothing we have to deal with tonight."

"Thank you."

I kissed the crown of her head, gave her a tiny squeeze, and let her settle back into her seat.

She lost her battle with sleep on the drive and didn't wake when we pulled into my garage. I lifted her out of the car and carried her inside. She can't weigh much over 110lbs - if that- so she's not heavy and bringing her over the threshold, through my house, and to my bed was easy.

I pulled my jacket and her pants off her before tucking her in. It was my first time seeing her naked without considering performing a sexual act on her.

Trudging back out to my car, I grabbed her backpack, then brought it into my bathroom so she'd have something to wear in the morning. Correction; later in the morning. (She's had D&D sessions turn into all-nighters, so she keeps a change of clothes in her backpack.) Once there, I brushed my teeth and hair, washed my face, and generally prepared for bed. 

My girlfriend was stirring in my bed when I returned, moaning frightfully in her sleep. She cried out for someone in warning, but her enunciation wasn't clear. Her fretful sleep was certainly a side-effect of my putting her through too much stress, and - despite my earlier promise to myself - already I let her face her fears alone.

"Kitten, Kitten." I shook her awake. "You're safe. I'm here."

"Baby?" She turned to face me, cowering from her nightmare. "I had a bad dream. Will you hold me?"

"Of course, Beautiful." My arms locked around her, I rolled her onto her back and lay half on my side and half sprawled over her, so she could feel my weight on her and feel safe. She clung to me desperately, but her sleep became peaceful.

She needed to start seeing Dr. Caldwell that day. I'd see to it. With that decision made, I should have been at peace too.

Sleep didn't come though, and worries chased their tails in my head. Asperger's, night terrors, timidity, dependency. Was I harmful in her life? What demons was she facing in her sleep? Memories? Fears? Would I take her out of the frying pan of loneliness and low self-esteem only to drop her in the fire of codependence and insecurity? What if I did hurt her? 

Predawn gray light filtered in through my window. An hour later, my alarm went off. Nothing beyond ensuring she got help had resolved itself in my agitated mind.

"Wake up, Sweetness." I kissed her soft skin until she smiled, still feigning sleep so I'd keep touching and kissing her. Our morning wake up canoodle is a fun game for both of us normally, but I'd let her sleep as long as I could and it was time for work. 

I pulled the covers back to expose her tight tummy, then put raspberries all over her belly to make her giggle uncontrollably. She is so cute and so worth it.

"Baby- *giggle* Baby, stop. I'll *giggle* I'll get up. *giggle* I prom- *giggle*" I let her up and kissed her forehead.

"Your bag's in here, Pretty Girl, and we could both use a shower." I turned on the hot water for her and she stepped in. I thought of joining her, but figured that my "help" probably wouldn't speed up the process. So we talked instead while she showered and I brushed.

"Hey, Cutie," I paused to spit, "I'm gonna set up an appointment for you today with Dr. Caldwell."

"Okay, but I have work?"

"It's medical, Darling. You can go during work."

"Umm, Baby, my boss-"

"-will tell you when it's time to go. There'll be a car waiting to take you and bring you back to work after. You just worry about having a good talk with the therapist, alright?"

"Alright." She stepped out of the shower. Water droplets dripped off her perfect, fuckable body. Damn, I just wanted to-

"Right, so here's a towel, Kitten." I climbed in and flipped the water to cold. That never works in real life.

My girlfriend dressed before I got out, but that particular little look of lust perked her face when I walked naked across the tiles for a towel of my own.

"Baby, do we maybe have time to...you know?" She blushed and smiled up at me. Everything in me wanted to tell her to quit her job and come be my wifey. Would she? If I asked, would she just drop such an important part of her life that she took such pride in?

"No, Sexiness. I'm putting on my clothes and taking you to the hospital." She pouted, but nodded in acquiescence.

She ordered hot cocoa at the drive thru coffee place, while I got my standard Chai Tea Latte. My hand rested in her lap, squeezed between her warm thighs in her thin cloth pants. We chatted about her job while I drove. 

"I get to help little kids feel better. It's very orderly and exact; the right prescriptions for the right pills in the right bottles to be given to the right patients. The restocking and organizing makes me happy. I don't have to talk to people very much. Plus, there's lots of time off for tv series or gaming marathons."

After a rather hard road as a teenager, she'd taken out student loans for a certification course, got a respectable job at Seattle Children's, leased that little apartment, and was so proud of how right-side up her life had become.

I was proud of her too, and told her so as I dropped her off at the hospital with a kiss. 

At work I placed a call for a 1pm appointment with Dr. Caldwell, arranged a car, and then called Dr. Hartford to contact a colleague at Seattle Children's and ensure my girl would be free for the appointment. 

After a bit of good-natured chiding about my lovesickness from Dr. Hartford, I called her obnoxiously correct girlfriend for some direct advice.

"So, last night I made my girlfriend cry from sex, then I blamed her for not stopping me and accused her of being too uncommunicative for me, so she had literal nightmares. I am a terrible person." 

"Good morning to you too, Kay. Now what the fuck?" I told Nic the whole story, while she assured me that I was unschooled, but not a terrible person.

"You've never had a girl cry before? You?" Nic likes to remind me of my wild oat sowing.

"No. Maybe. I never cared before. And she didn't just cry, she shook and she keened. She looked...expended. Like I'd taken something from her that left her diminished and powerless."

"Your solution was to check her for physical damage, take her to her apartment, and leave her there? Alone?"

"...yes."

"Okay. You need a relationship sponsor, because the poor girl loves you. Somewhere Cupid is dancing around laughing his ass off at her luck, but Jenny does love you. And you love her?"

"Yes."

"Then getting her off is only one of your responsibilities to her," Nic riled, "You made her cum? Yippee-fucking-Skippy. A vibrator and a YouTube How-to can do that. The more important part is how you care for her. When she responses to powerful feelings during sex by crying and shaking -- which is a normal and valid response when a lover is emotionally invested -- you hold her and comfort her. No matter what kinky stuff you talk that nice girl into doing, she should always feel respected and shielded by you."

"Make sure she's safe and loved at all times?"

"Yes. You are her keeper. Keep her happy, keep her secure, and keep her satisfied. Simple as that."

Simple as that? How do I shield her from her subconscious? How do I know if she's pleased if she won't just tell me? How...?

Fuck it. Happy. Secure. Satisfied. From that moment on, she'd be happy, secure, and satisfied. I'd see to it.

I thanked Nic and felt more at ease, but still stressed over the outcome of my girlfriend's appointment and how I could protect her without hobbling her. I was useless with pent up worry for the entire workday and didn't accomplish anything.

"Sherry," I called out to the office manager, "I'm bugging out now."

Dirty little secret time? Sometimes -- especially when I'm stressed over a problem I can't solve -- I like to get fucked. Proper fucked. On my back, no responsibilities, enjoying the expert thrusting of a bigass strapon cock, wildly unconcerned with any other focus, fucked.

Given my control issues, I can't get that from a random pick up. The thrills of the unknown are always tempered with the hazards of the unknown. I didn't want any additional variables to consider during my mental palate cleanser. Just a basic rogering from a skilled professional.

I called Hannah to book a quick appointment and zipped over to her apartment.

Hannah works as a prostitute. Before you judge, her job is to provide pleasure to lonely people. It may not be noble per se, but it's harmless and that's more than can be said of what I do. Though, it should be noted that she's equally good at her job.

Hannah buzzes me up and I let myself in. It's a large and well-appointed place, so she must do reasonably well for herself. I believe she's an independent contractor and I know she has a second job she works from home, but I've never asked for details.

I walk in and shake her hand before handing her her money, just as I would an artist I'd commissioned to paint a mural or a landscaper I'd hired to plant fruiting trees. Handing her a strapon harness was a little different, but she just walked to the bathroom to put it on.

(It's unfair to expect her to keep different toys for different clients, but I gather that her bread and butter is dominatrix work and I don't fancy being fucked with something that's been in several men's asses already. I also dissuaded her from putting on that particular act for me. I don't need a Domme, just a good, clean fuck.)

Her bedroom is as lovely as she. A king bed with fluffy cotton sheets smelling of Downy. Lace privacy curtains allowing in warm sunshine. Goo Goo Dolls' "Here Is Gone" playing quietly in the background.

~~~Undressed, I waited in the softness of her bed until she walked in, also naked except for my strapon.

She's a beautiful woman with deep brown hair, a Roman face, clear olive skin, hefty breasts, trim hips, and powerful legs. Hannah's body looks as though she's paid to fuck for a living.

Hannah climbed atop me, kissing me with the ease natural to set encounters. The pleasures of her lips and tongue filled and relaxed my body and brain without the obliging passion of love, the indefinite passion of casual sex, or the designing passion of seduction. Her womanly, feminine, balmy body pressed into mine immodestly, brazenly undulating so her curves shifted over me and drove up our respective body heat.

My eyes closed. There was no duty to perform, no fairness to establish, no wall to overcome. There was just a beautiful and gratifying woman, paid handsomely in exchange for sexual fulfillment without complications.

Kissing continued as her fingers found their way between my moistened thighs. I was wide open to her advance, making her job easier and inviting her into me. She rubbed my g-spot with that perfect touch and drew more moisture into the palm of her hand. 

I sank into lust with her while her tongue tickled the back of my throat and her two dexterous fingers tickled deep, deep inside of my snatch. They moved in and out leisurely, rubbing and rubbing my sweet spot. It sent a calm wildfire to my brain, burning away everything in its path.

Sopping wet and moaning in undisguised need, my body was ready for the next phase of pleasure in her bed.

My eyes fluttered open briefly when her fingers left my pussy, but closed again with a contented sigh when they saw her go to her elbows above me. The strapon pushed to the opening of my cunny, held for a moment, then slid deftly inside me. Not so big as to be challenging, but enough to fill the void, the need, the desire, the want, the urge.

She held there, her breath steady and her body soothing. Soon my ass pressed down into the mattress and back up onto the toy ever so slightly. Then again. Then a bit more. Then enough to break the skin-on-skin contact between our mounds and thighs. 

Hannah's kiss sharpened briefly and broke. Her strong legs and practised hips pulled the strapon nearly out, so just the large gel head stayed at the opening of my pussy for a delectably non-teasing second. 

Then the plunge.

She thrust into me using controlled and hard strokes that ripped wild moans from me in my inhibition. My legs hugged her to me with force on her downstroke and let loose on her upstroke. My pelvis flew to meet hers at the mad speed I set. She matched my frenzy with the professionalism and proficiency I'd come to expect and I'd come to get.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 05



All the standard pressure I kept myself under, all the worries of my new relationship, and any random culturally imposed concerns about nuclear war or global warming went away in the freedom of sex.

It was soooah-ho-ho fucking good. A much needed orgasm welled up from the center of my shoulder blades and burst out of my sex in a spurt of pure pleasure. The pleasure rolled on, through my calves and to my toes. I felt it in the backs of my knuckles even as they banged against her headboard as I growled out a scream, demanding more.

Her movement decelerated perceptibly, because she knew that - with the "edge" off my lust - my need would slow broil. The even pace and astute angle produced by her slower gyrations kept me fired with her smooth strokes into my lava soaked snatch. 

Full weight on me now and my legs no longer capable of wrapping around her or interested in the effort required, her hand went to my heretofore ignored and positively rigid clit. Still calm and giving, her thumb and forefinger molded my clit while my strapon continued to fathom my depths. I groaned and grunted, real communication unnecessary under her flood of indulgent gratification.

Soon, telltale warmth built in my tummy and butterflied out to the tips of my extremities. I saw florescent colors on the insides of my closed eyelids. I heard my own loud gasps in my unguarded ears. The dam burst again, but in a wash instead of a spurt.

A gush of cum poured forth from my ecstatic pussy and I blacked out in the sheer joy of my sexual release.~~~

Waking by myself in her luxurious bed, I stretched and stood. Caveman thinking or not, that rebalanced the chemistry of my brain or something and left me ready to face the world again.

"You needed that, huh?" It was the first verbal exchange we'd had other than hellos. She was typing something on her computer in a program I didn't recognize.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks." Even the most businesslike lesbian relationship produces some pillowtalk and I'd been seeing her for years. "Can I borrow your shower?"

She looked taken aback, probably because I broke our standard routine. I wanted to be sensitive just in case and make sure she knew it wasn't about her, so I went on. "It's not...I'm picking up my new girlfriend now and I don't want to smell of sex."

"Of cour- Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?"

"Yep. She's great."

"...that's nice." She frowned like it wasn't. I can't imagine that she was jealous or anything. Maybe she'd just never thought of my life outside our sessions, like I never thought of hers. It probably jarred her. "Are you two not having sex yet?"

"We are. I've pretty good plans for tonight." I winked and headed into her bathroom for a quick wash before getting back on the road.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My girlfriend's already up when I wake in her bed. My last memory of her snuggling me to sleep after D&D makes me smile sleepily. 

It's Thursday so she's got to be in her basement gym working out. She's so disciplined. So strong. So...

I grab her strapon from the nightstand and go down to see how she's doing.

The whole basement is a gym, with machines and weights on the near side and gym mats, medicine balls, etc on the other. She's running over ladders on the far side when I reach the foot of the stairs. (I fell on my butt the only time I tried it with her, but she helped me up and put me safely on a stationary bike.) 

She's wearing a grey sports bra and maroon shiny short shorts. Sweat's dripping off her brow and down her back. I love it when she's got her Amazon on.

I pause there at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her to notice me in the room. With her long brilliant red hair, her perfect strong pale body, her intelligent sharp emerald eyes, and her absolute fearlessness, she's like an anime goddess. 

She's Rias Gremory. I'm hers.

My girlfriend gets especially intense when she works out. So when she stops "pylos" and removes her headphones to stalk across the basement toward me, I feel those happy shakes that come when I know she's going to have me.

"Hey Cuddles, good morning," she laughs. It's welcoming and fiendish at once. "What do you have there?"

~~~"I, uh, brought your strapon."

"Why's that, Gorgeous?"

"Because I thought you might use it?" I hand her the toy a bit sheepishly. I hadn't thought about how utterly needy it made me look to bring it down, but she's chuckling when she takes it from me, loses the shorts and bra, and straps it on. Her relishing my eagerness eases my embarrassment and makes me feel desirable too.

"I don't know how safe you are here with me, my naked little nerd." She spins me away from her and wraps one arm around my breasts, while the other with its splayed fingers inches downward from my belly toward my pussy. Her red bush brushes the top of my crack and her hard nipples press into my shoulders as she holds me to her hot sweaty body. "You interrupted my jock time and I still have you geeking out last night in the front of my mind. I think I may be duty-bound to bully you."

I quiver at her words and she growls. My legs spread as her hand moves down. She whispers.

"Let's see. I can't give you a wedgie or pants you if you never wear clothes." She quick licks my ear. "I don't want my cute girl's head in a toilet, so no swirlies." Her tongue keeps playing with my ear and her hand goes from cupping my pussy to hooking a finger inside and strumming my clit with her thumb. "Indian burns aren't PC. A wet willie seems a bit redundant. What do you think, Little Nerd?"

"I don't know." I gasp as she lifts me onto my tiptoes with her arm around me and her fingers inside me.

"Are you sure you can't think of anything?" Her fingers claim what little focus I can muster and I don't answer beyond a lustful moan.

"Okay then, Hotness. How about we try some wrestling?" She lets go of me for a moment before dipping her shoulder into my waist and picking me up with an arm around the back of my knees.

My girlfriend carries me like a sack of potatoes over to the other end of the basement and fake power slams me onto the gym mats. She pins me with ease, then rolls me into a full nelson on top of her. Her knee slides between my legs and I'm half-sitting on her thigh. I squish against it and moan again.

"You know it's no fun if you don't even try to fight back, Cutie?"

"Why would I fight?" The pressure of her leg pushing on my pussy, being secured in her arms, and her gentle nibbling at my ear were all very good arguments to not wrestle back.

"Good point." She flips me on top of her. She grabs my wrists and holds them to her chest while kissing any lingering sleepiness out of me. "Mmm. I'll make sure you cum at least once before I leave for work if you can pin me. I'll even let you start on top and give you five minutes." She releases my wrists.

I give it an honest try. I do. Really. 

She's so much stronger than me though. I'm flat on my back in seconds, arms pinned to the mat above my head, my laughing girlfriend straddling my prone body.

"Well, A for effort, my little nerd." She looks down at me, cheerfully feral. "What did I promise again, if you won?"

"To make me cum at least once before you leave." I pout and worry just a little after the long tease I got last night, but I'm pretty sure my wonderful girlfriend won't leave me hanging.

"How about twice, then?" Her eye brows arch.

"Yes, please!" I get to cum twi-ice, I get to cum twi-ice. La la la, la la, la.

She kisses me before I finish singing in my head and she tastes so good.

"Go lay on your back on the Smith machine bench, Dollface." She walks over to a chest in the corner and opens the combination lock. I run over to the Smith machine.

I should tell you that she has the only fully upholstered gym in the world. I fell off the pull up/dip machine and chipped a tooth three months ago, so now everything that can be padded is and everything else is coated in neoprene. She never scolded me about it though and when her friends tease her about baby proofing, she just tells them to go [be nice to] themselves.

She walks over with two sets of velcro cuffs in her hands. Her fingertips run along my side and tweak my left nipple as she passes by me to the plates. 

I flinch when she loads up the Smith machine. If she wants me to bench press hundreds of pounds, she's going to be very disappointed.

"Don't worry, Pretty Girl. The weight is to keep the bar from moving." She raises the bench I'm on to a little below waist height (on her). "Now scoot your cute ass down to the edge so your head isn't hanging off." 

I comply and my girlfriend cuffs my wrists to the bar and tightens the other end of each cuff so they won't slide on the neoprene. I told you, she coated everything.

"Now keep ahold of the bar with both hands. The cuffs will help if you slip at all, but then you need to grab the bar again to keep your balance. Okay, Playmate?"

"Okay, Baby." Now I'm curious.

She bends down and grabs each of my ankles. She crosses them behind her neck and my body forms an L shape. Meanwhile, she pushes the strapon into me and brings that nice, full feeling. I sigh blissfully with the pleasure of her in me.

Now to wait on pins and needles for the plundering I know I have coming to me.

Then she leans forward and I form a more and more acute angle until she's holding the bar with me. She's leaning onto me with her thighs against the bench. I'm bent nearly double and the dildo connecting us is rubbing me the right way in a completely different way than usual, but with the pressure of her weight behind it that she knows I crave.

My girlfriend starts slow, working up some nice friction as my body responds to her movement with countermovements that stoke a glowing warmth in my awakened pussy.

I know this mood on her though. The speed, the force, and the heat are coming.

Sure enough, the pace increases dramatically. My ankles uncross with the faster stroking, but her arms keep them together on the inside of each of her shoulders. With my legs so close together, my pussy squeezes the toy even harder. I'm completely at her mercy with my wrists bound in place and my lower body bent up under the power of her upper body.

She's already sweaty, but gets even slicker as she pumps me. The fronts of her thighs loudly slap the backs of mine, my lower back makes a corresponding thumping sound as it bounces against the leather padded bench beneath me, and my super wet and super hot pussy is making really lewd sloppy sounds.

"You like that, Little Nerd? Like being fucked all bent up like a pretzel?"

"Ugh, ugh, guh, ugh." She pauses a moment so I can answer between grunts as each stroke punches the air from my lungs. "Yes. Ugh, guh, ugh, ugh, ahhhhhh."

My hand slips from the bar for a second and my body twists a little under the vigor of her bucking into me, but the cuff catches my wrist and I regain the bar and my balance immediately. The strapon assault she's providing has its intended effect though, and I'm ready to pop.

"Fuck. You're amazing, you gorgeous, bendable, fuckable woman! Damn, Sexy. I, Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuuhuuuuuuuuuuck!" She was readier than me apparently and her thrusts slacken. 

I could care less because in moments I join her in mutual orgasm, squealing out in satisfied happiness and collapsing on the bench in a pile of yay.

She unstraps my wrists and stands me up for a soft, loving kiss. Her firm lips press mine. Her hand at the back of my head tangles in my hair and the other around my waist squeezes my buttcheek. Both hold me in place as her tongue slides into my mouth and massages mine.

My girlfriend's kiss stops before I'm ready. Her one hand leaves my hair and the other gives a final pat to my bottom.

"Alright, so you be good while I'm at work, Sunshine..."

"But you said twice?" I whine and go to my tiptoes to try to go back to kissing her, but she's so darn tall.

Her hands go back to my bottom and pull me into her strapon for a spontaneous grind. 

"I know, Kitten. I just like making you all sulky." She plants a quick kiss on the tip of my upturned nose. "I'm going to clean up a bit down here. Go upstairs to my closet toybox and find a dark green strapon dildo with three prongs - like a rabbit vibrator with an anal lion tail on it -- and the warming anal lube. I'll meet you in my bed in a few minutes."

I ran to her room and dove in her toy box. It's huge and there are still dozens of things that we haven't used and some things I don't comprehend. I find the dark green dildo though and jump up and down on the bed while I wait for her.

"You're fucking adorable, Sweetheart, you know that?" She's leaning in the doorframe watching me bounce on the bed. I stop moving and stare. 

She walks across the room. Her long toned legs take long strides. Her strong arms sway in tandem. Her skin ripples over her ab muscles. Her yummy breasts jiggle. Her beautiful lips curve and her bright eye winks because she caught me looking. I do blush, but she knows she turns me on.

My girlfriend stops at the edge of the bed. I'm on my knees facing her and holding out the dildo in supplication. She strokes my hair.

"Switch them out, Darling." I partially unfasten her harness, slip the regular dildo out, lock the triple one in, and attach the remote to the leather waist strap of her harness. She doesn't stop petting me. "Spread lube on the anal stimulator."

It's not hard to figure out which part is the anal stimulator. She's used a rabbit on me before so I recognize the little "ears" that will pedal over my clit and make me nuts. The dong part is pretty blinking obvious too, although this one is short with a big, bulbous head made of jelly with ribbing on it. The anal stimulator does look like a lion's tail. It's bendy plastic about as big around as my pinky with a smallish pointed oval bead on the end that's also ribbed jelly.

Remembering the last time, I'm careful to be generous with the lube.

She puts one of the body pillows sideways on the center of the bed and maneuvers me so I'm laying my head on my regular pillow and the body pillow is under my butt. 

She herself lays right on top of me and between my wide open legs and we makeout.

As I'm getting into sucking on her tongue, she wets a finger in my slit and tenderly pushes passed my rosebud to wriggle in my bottom. I giggle into her kiss and feel her smile around her tongue, before she pulls her finger out. I miss it.

The dong part pushes into my pussy and the smile stays, but my giggles are now moans. The lion's tail pokes at my backdoor, shoves with maddening gradualness, rubs my rosebud with its ribby goodness, and pops inside. The bunny ears hug my clit. The dong enters fully to butt my g spot and the anal stimulator slides in behind it.

I squirm beneath her, overexcited. There are so many textures and hardnesses. I'm already pretty keyed up from her taking me in the gym and it's just too much. My overwhelmed pussy and bottom clamp and unclamp.

So she keeps calm and is now somehow sucking on my tongue. I'm not sure when that started. My lower half is distracting me, but her soothing is working. That gentle suction pacifies me while hands stroke the side of my face, the hollow of my neck, the traps of my shoulders, and - ooooh -- the lobes of my ears. I loosen up - figuratively and physically -- under her loving touch.

Her lips leave mine to sweep down my neck to my shoulder, then across my chest to put little smooches over my collarbone and up to nibble the bottom of my chin. She nuzzles and my body relaxes and accepts the twin intrusion and those lovely bunny ears on my nubbin.

She pulls me back into a kiss and I feel and hear the vibration start in the same second. The pulsation patterns of the two inserts are complementary and both reverb off the wall between them. Aaaahhhhhhh, bunny ears. Bunny ears! After a few seconds, I'm ready to leap right out of my skin.

My girlfriend's on top of me though. She's petting my hair, and kissing my cheek, and palming my hip. Soon I'm still agitated, but enveloped in her while the wonderful buzzing spreads from my center to the little hair on my arms and the back of my neck.

She begins gentle short-thrusting into me. Most of me is just immersed in the sensations as my clit, g-spot, and bottom are all stroked and vibrated at once, but deep down, I also appreciate my baby. I know the tenderness of her pace and the attentiveness of her caresses are solely for me. This whole turn in her bed is for me. Because she loves me.

Her sensual kiss, her sensitive fondling, and her knowledgeable rhythm have me riding the cow that jumps over the moon in her ascent. 

As her hips gyrate to move the toy in and out of me, I break off her kiss to take in more breath and have more room to groan out her name. She kisses my throat and I give her hers back a little with the vibrations of the groans she's pulling from me against the warmth of her ruby lips.

I can't take much more before I climax. She must know, because she keeps her speed steady, but drives into me much harder.

"That's it, Gorgeous. Cum for me now! Good girl." She's done a full workout, the second aerobic workout banging me on the leather bench, and the sex now, but she's not even panting. She's amazing. "That's my good girl. Just let go."

I am panting. I'm also moaning and whimpering in hunger, so I don't think any recognizable words come out when I answer. I obey her words though.

I'm over the freaking moon!

~~~I must lose a few minutes of awareness, but she's holding me when I come to. Until her alarm steals her. Fucking alarm.

"The car'll be by to pick you up for your appointment with Dr. Caldwell and for yoga at 10, I'll be home for bath night by 6. If a package comes, try out the blue ones while I'm gone and get comfortable. I love you, Kitten. Be good." And she's gone. 

But, yay! Bath night!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Our first bath night was also on a Thursday. I'd had my first meeting with Dr. Caldwell that day and I admit I needed it. It didn't magically heal me. We didn't even have time to go into my experiences, just my self. Yet I felt good because I'd gotten answers to questions that needled me for years.

I went back to the hospital after and spent a few contemplative hours filling prescriptions. My boss was POed with me for leaving work, but he's always angry.

She walked in a few minutes before shift change and waved at me before taking a seat in the waiting room. She wore sexy skinny jeans, strappy heels, and a low cut, diaphanous blue top with a gleaming silver necklace in her cleavage. Her hot red hair was pulled back in a high pony, so I could see the matching gleaming silver tear drops in her pretty ears.

I couldn't wait to go see her.

Although I spent the afternoon thinking of what to say to her, it all came out in a rush.

"Baby, I have Asperger's, but it's okay. I should have told you and I have other stuff that's not okay. Scary things from when I was little, and then bigger, and I'm still off, but I'm okay. It's that okay?"

"It's okay, Angel." My girlfriend hugged me. "I love you. Every little bit of you."

And it was okay.

Still hugging me, she continued, "So I figured we could grab some dinner and come back to my place for the night?"

I forgot to bring extra clothes! I knew we'd be going back to her place, but I totally forgot! Maybe I could re-wear...

She whispered to me. It's like she realizes my worries before I do.

"I took the liberty of picking out some clothes and toiletries you can keep at my house while you still have your apartment." I purred in her hug. "Yeah, a tube top and some pants that say 'Tap Me' on the ass in big red letters."

I started, but before I could freak out too much, she giggled.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 06



Continuation of "My GF; Fucking & How We Met" and not recommended as a standalone work. The sex-to-story ratio is more heavily weighted to story in this chapter, but feel free to skip ahead to the ~~~ if sex is your focus for today's reading pleasure.

Fictional story containing graphic lesbian sex.




When I come home after work, my cute little girlfriend greets me at the door wearing her new RodeoHs. Mmmm...

They're light blue short briefs with gray piping that match the gray of her sports bra. That's all she's wearing. The blue and gray contrast nicely with her healthy pink complexion and her long wavy blonde hair.

"Hi, Bab-" She starts, but I cut her off with a hard kiss while my eager hands knead her sexy ass. At least it begins hard, but then I taste candy green apple.

"Mmm. Cutie, what on earth have you been eating?" I ask, amused.

"Jolly Ranchers." She smiles up at me prettily. I lean back in for another taste and suck her tongue and the sweet saliva from her happy mouth. One hand leaves a firm cheek to slide into the front panel of her cute underwear and finger her wetness.

RodeoHs are essentially underwear that are designed to hold a dildo in place so that a girl can fuck another girl (or a guy I suppose). They're not quite as durable and versatile as the more traditional leather harness, but they are a lot cuter than tough leather and metal buckles and a lot less intimidating for a gentle girl like mine. I'll press a strapless through the fly later for her first time in the saddle. 

With the alluring way her hipbones stretch the soft fabric of the RodeoHs, I'm thinking about how they'll feel between my legs. Smooth cotton over warm fresh skin as I ride the phallus that hammers her g-spot with each stroke. 

I'll be on top this time, but not in order to suit my ego or maintain control. Being on top physically isn't symbolically important to me and neither of us are so entrenched in gender roles that her wearing the cock matters.

Like I said, she's gentle. New sexual experiences make her nervous. For her first time wearing the cock, that's all she needs to be worrying about. I'll do the work and we'll both have the pleasure. Next time she can have a more active role when she's gotten comfortable with the idea.

It's a delicate balance with her. I need to find a mellow way to introduce twists to our sex life and let her get comfortable, but I can't give her time enough to overthink and psych herself out. She probably doesn't fully realize the capabilities of the RodeoHs, beyond the fact that the open fly allows my nimble fingers to sneak in and play with her.

With one hand squeezing her ass, the other tickling her shy clit, and my tongue invading her candy apple mouth, I could bring her off right here in my foyer if I wanted. She's moaning warmly around my tongue and ripe for the taking. It's not like she'd resist at all...but it's still bath night and I need to focus.

"Gorgeous, did you have anything besides Jolly Ranchers today?" I query. My girlfriend needs her strength tonight.

"Cheezits?" she answers doubtfully, knowing I don't consider candy and crackers a square meal.

I growl and pinch her clitty while my fingernails dig into her ass. She buries her lovely face in my neck and whimpers repentantly. Letting her naughty bits go, I rub her lower back with both hands.

"Go grab yourself a sandwich or something, Sweetheart. I'll get the bath running."

"I'm not even hungry," she whines. I let her feel my body stiffen against hers, so she knows I'm serious.

In her defense, I have her wanting an orgasm and am sending her to get a sandwich instead. It's our routine to have a quickie while I run a bath on Thursdays, and she likes routine. (Not just Thursdays either. I may have conditioned her to expect sex every time I come home. I may need to think about that.) Still, she needs something in her stomach. And she needs to be a little more disciplined about maintaining a balanced diet. Missing a round of sex may be the most effective punishment I have for her. (I can't believe I haven't thought about that before either.)

I cup her pointed little chin in my firm hand and lift her face to look into mine. There's naked arousal in her honey-golden brown eyes, mixed with a hint of trepidation. My hands drop to her shoulders and my thumbs lightly massage them.

"Then drink one of my Lean Bodies and have a banana. I am going to run a bath." I turn her around resolutely by her shoulders and smack her pantied bottom good-naturedly.

She goes into the kitchen dutifully and I get the bath ready, undress, and climb in.

I'm not crazy enough to be my own architect, but I worked very closely with him and my interior designer to get exactly what I wanted in my house. One of my larger self-indulgences was my 6'by6' hot tub. After a taxing day, the jets and warm bubbly water, the comfy padded seats, the calming scent of sandalwood, and the steamy air feel great.

Six months ago, I'd be in here with a book for a couple hours before deciding between a quiet night in or going out trolling. With her, I'll turn on some silly show she likes for an hour of soak and cuddle before some more serious fooling around.

She walks in still pouting, especially when she sees that I'm already naked and underwater. Her whole demeanor changes to something a tiny bit defiant. She's adorable as a sourpuss.

I watch her take her gray sports bra off over her head. She blushes and covers her nipples with her forearm as she feels my gaze on her high, comely breasts. I wonder if she'll ever be completely comfortable with me looking at her without interaction? I don't take it personally and I know she's more open with me than with anyone else on the planet. It's just how she is.

She also doesn't really think ahead well. In the next seconds, she lowers her arm to shimmy out of her RodeoHs and I get a nice view of her perky breasts bouncing as she hurries to get naked and slide in next to me. My right arm drapes around her and my right hand lovingly fondles her bobbing breast just below the waterline.

My left hand queues up our next episode of The Walking Dead and she squeals in giddiness, my earlier harshness forgotten. She can't seem to maintain emotions very long. I feel a tiny bit guilty at enjoying teases her with no consequences because of how scattered and easily distracted she is.

We started watching the series together a couple months ago. I'd never watch a show about zombies on my own, but I admit that it's pretty good. I also like that she closes her eyes and presses her face into my boob during the gory parts, which is both charming and a cheap thrill for me. Nonetheless, I nearly forbade her watching the series after [Spoiler alert – Nic] the episode where they found the short haired woman's daughter. 

Jenny started crying hard when the little girl walked out of the barn as a zombie and I couldn't get her to stop. Seeing little kids hurt – even in the context of an utterly fictional TV show – is a trigger for her and I don't handle the crying well. I mostly hold her and pet her while I'm freaked out myself until it's over, and then make sure whatever hurt her is never an issue again.

But she's hooked on the show. She promised she'd be okay and practically begged me to keep watching it with her, so here we are in my hot tub watching a group of humans worry over interpersonal relationships and moral dilemmas instead of building stockpiles and fletching arrows. I've been reading synopses ahead though and we skipped the episode with the little blonde girls dying. She didn't have to ask why when we saw the previously on.

My right hand leaves her sweet breast and travels down to caress her belly, her lower abdomen, and her hips. A character opens a zombie's head with a crowbar and she burrows into me until I tell her she can look again. My left hand finds her right and we hold hands in her lap.

Forty-some minutes go by and the silly show comes to an end. I reach for a washcloth and the Dove body wash, then bathe her pretty body above and below the water. I move her unto the rim of the hot tub and back in as needed. She's perfectly capable of achieving her own hygiene every day of the week, but bath night every Thursday is an opportunity for me to regularly demonstrate affection for her in a non-sexual physical way.

The shaving that comes next I actually prefer be done by me. She nicks herself a lot.

I realize that she sounds helpless. She's not. Mostly, I really like taking care of her and I do a better job of it than she does.

So I set her on the edge of the tub and put her foot up on my left shoulder, where I kiss her cute toes for a while before I shave her leg.

I apply shaving lotion onto one of her lovely gams. The razor runs easily over her flexed thigh and calf, over old scars (some innocent, some malicious,) over new bruises (some from known sources and others from forgotten or unnoticed bumps,) and over her cute knobby knee and boney ankle. Fine little blonde hairs are removed from her smooth skin. Then I repeat the process with her other leg.

She smiles as I come closer to shave her pretty pussy. Her hair is so light and soft that I probably don't need to do this weekly, but – like I said – I like to care for her.

After a few months of post-shaving abstinence, her skin became used enough to the razor to have fun directly after, so lately I've been using a different shaving gel with a "warming" effect that will take full effect shortly after I finish shaving her. 

With quick, clean strokes, I take away any veil she may have from me and leave her completely bare. A soft washcloth dipped in the warm water rinses away the mess and leaves her sex fresh and clean for me to invade.

Strong jets of warm water hit my breasts, stomach, shoulders, and thighs as I move even closer to her. Carefully, I make sure she's firmly seated on the padded edge of the hot tub and drape her knees over my shoulders. My hands lock onto her thighs so she's held safely in place for now and I can slide her cute ass into the water whenever I feel like it. 

I do so immediately, dunking her ass to her waist quickly in the warm water to hear her yelp in surprise. I smile up at her wickedly.

"Please, Baby? I'm really fired up. Please don't tease me?"

The warming gel legitimately makes her crazy with lust. The heat enflames her sex to the point of overcoming her inhibitions. Her delightful asscheeks twitch and her pelvis gyrates slightly.

More though, she understands the effect herself and with it gains a kind of emotional freedom. Any wanton behavior can easily be attributed to the gel and doesn't have to be owned to herself.

The effect is so freeing to her that I'd briefly toyed with the idea of giving her a placebo every morning with her daily vitamin so she could do as she liked sexually and blame the pill for anything that would otherwise make her feel embarrassment. I don't want to lie to her about something like that though and Dr. Caldwell agreed that it would be counterproductive to increasing her honest self-esteem.

~~~Her need is clear enough to both of us now, so I do stop teasing and brush my nose across the inside of her puffy pink lips, both nodding my agreement to stop teasing and further exciting my beautiful girlfriend. 

Her hips jerk suddenly as the hot air exhaled through my nose hits her already agitated clit. My tongue and lips follow. Soft kisses and wet licks grace up and down her labia. Light nibbling of where her thigh meets her cleft have her giggling, but the same light nibbling near her clit has her whimpering seconds later. 

I put my hungry mouth to work lapping up the essence I accumulated. Her moans continue as I tongue her out with passion for her pleasure. 

I look up to see my love from the corner of my eye. (My head is currently turned partially to run the flat of my long tongue along the right wall of her pussy.) Her one hand rolls one of her hard nipples. The other reaches down to sweetly stroke the side of my face that she can see. I wink at her wryly, but soon return my full attention to her dripping snatch.

As my head is turned, her hand goes to pet my hair. She usually likes to tangle her hand in my hair, but my unruly tresses are so thick that they're hard to penetrate when wet. They're so dark that you can barely tell I'm a redhead, but I'm not sure if that bothers her.

I do feel her short fingernails on my scalp as her breathing becomes more rapid and her thighs narrow to press my ears.

"Baby, oh, oh, oh! Please keep that, yes! Ohhhh Kay! KAYYYYYYYYYY! KA-"

I assume she'll finish saying my name again. I love hearing it, but have a more devious goal that will negate my hearing.

As she begins to verbalize and I feel the signs of imminent orgasm from her sexy body, my hands shift from her thighs to her buttocks. I take a quick squeeze, because her ass is perfect and demands to be squeezed, but then dunk her back into the water like before and hold her there.

I keep my nose to the water's surface, but continue to lick her immersed quim with my quick tongue while her body rocketed through an explosive underwater orgasm.

After her climax, I wrap her arms around my neck and she wraps her trembling legs around my waist. I stand to my feet and gingerly step out of the hot tub, carry her soaked body to my bed, and lay her on a down comforter. I spoon in behind her to hold her and take a little nap.

"I love you, Baby," she murmurs sleepily.

"I know, Dearheart." I yawned, sleepy myself. "I love you, too."

I wake a few hours later. She is darling in her sleep and I hate to move her, but my right arm is asleep underneath her. Plus, she's soooo sexy laying there naked and I have an agenda for the evening that's gotten pushed late into the night.

I turn us each 90 degrees in opposite directions so that she's on her back and I'm on top of her. Gentle kisses to her lips, chin, cheeks, nose, eyes, and forehead bring her to a pleasant wakefulness under me. 

Her small hands find my breasts, groping at first in her drowsiness. As the kissing continues, she demonstrates her skills. Her slim fingers massage the firm flesh of my large breasts while her thumbs rub circles in opposite directions on my areolas, making my nipples impossibly hard. Although they're of no interest to me at all, I'm silently thankful for the hundreds of hours she's wasted playing first and third person console games and training her hands to make exact, timely, concurrent physical movements.

My head drops to the pillow next to her sylph-like face, my back arches, and I sigh contentedly. Her talented hands still manipulate my breasts. My lower body lays casually over hers.

Her knee slides between my legs, spreading them slightly. Instinctively, I start to rock against the hardness. Damn, it's a good time for the RodeoHs, but it takes some discipline to stop her wonderful hands and my eager hips. I could very easily just keep going.

"Mmm...Fuck. Beautiful, go-. Fuck. *hard kiss*" I have to get off her. I have to forgo the- "Oooohu, Sexy, your fingers. Aaaaaaahhh." 

I flip myself off her as an act of will. She follows and starts to climb onto me, but I stop her with a light grip on her shoulders.

"Go put the pink and white RodeoHs on, my little pony."

Her cute face frowns in confusion and I have to repeat myself before she gets up to get the briefs. In her defense, I don't think I've ever asked her to put clothes on during sex before. Her confusion is justified.

I take a couple deep breaths to regain my control as she exits my bed in a huff. I need to calm down and focus because this night is about her.

Out of lust, I watch her sic body as she walks to the dresser, but it's out of curiosity that I look to see where in her underwear drawer she has placed the new pink pair she received today. As expected, she pulls them from under a slightly lighter pair of pink silk panties stacked between all her white underwear and all her red underwear. My adorable little neat freak has to have certain things just so.

She slides on the pink briefs with white piping and crawls back into bed, still frowning at me and waiting for an explanation. Feeling a bit irascible, I grin evilly and force her to force the issue.

"Why, Baby?"

"Because I want you in them," I grab a Share XL I'd set aside for the purpose. Her end is well designed and particularly flexible for a strapless like the regular Share, so she won't need to worry over her internal grip and I know the malleable 3 ½ inch insert won't hurt her if she twists wrong in her inexperience. My end is XL because I like a big cock. (Alright, so the night is a little bit about me too.) "so you can try this out."

She giggles because she still doesn't get it. She will.

I spread her legs and pressed her fresh panties into her wetted pussy with my middle finger to be sure she's as readied as I think she is. I smile as she blushes that the fact that the material sticks to her moisture, puckering her pretty pink panties.

Still smiling, I pinch the material to pull them back out and then hold the fly open with my fingers again.

"You're going to have the little end tonight, Beautiful." Forestalling the concerns she may have, I lean in to whisper to her as I slide the Share XL home inside her. "Don't worry, my little pony. I'm going to ride you. You just lay back and enjoy, okay?"

"Okay," she answers hesitantly, but from nervousness rather than fear. Still, I can afford to be slow and easy with her. We have all night together in my bed, as well as tomorrow night and the night after if it takes her some time to get used to the idea. There's no need for speed in sharing new experiences with my lovely Jenny.

With that dilatory attitude, I return to kissing her soft, pouty lips. I lovingly caress her ribcage, knuckles xylophoning down her ribs and running my fingertips back up in a continuous pattern that I know helps to relax her.

As she calms under my touch, I reach down with my free hand and gingerly jack the dildo to make sure the movement won't hurt her or freak her out.

She gets into the action immediately and moans into my tender kiss. I take the opportunity her parted lips create to make the kiss less tender. 

My tongue slides into her mouth and my lips press hard on hers, demanding.

Her hips move in time to my jerking the Share XL, so I decide it's time. I stop kissing her and straddle her and the toy. She sighs deeply in pleasure, both at the pressure she feels inside her from my added weight and the comforting reassurance of my weight itself.

Settling over her lap, I look down at her beautiful face. Her pretty lips are still parted. Her eyes are closed in a serene yielding. Her desire reads all over her angelic face. I brush stray, damp locks of spun gold hair off her forehead and cheek. Then I keep stroking her face for a while, because she's so exquisite like that. So willing and giving. She means the world to me.

She's also getting restless beneath me and needs to get off.

I take a firm grip on the sturdy headboard and the phallus, then start rolling my hips in a smooth rocking motion designed to rub her clit in the cleft and butt the end against her g-spot. 

Gradually, I up the tempo with her as her sweet ass pushes down into the mattress and back up to push the toy even deeper into me. Although made more difficult by her exuberance, keeping a grip on the uneven double dildo becomes even more important as she bucks under me.

I love bringing it out in her. The passion and freedom she revels in while we have sex. She's a fucking firecracker and I get to light the fuse.

"Baby!" she calls out to me. She's breathing hard and her throat is dry. She's close though and I want to come with her. It's a bit more challenging with the tension produced by the grip I have to keep on the toy with my walls. But hell, I like a challenge and it's not like my pussy walls aren't practiced at every tension and angle of intercourse.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 06



"Mmm," I loosen my grip slightly to slide and enjoy the penetration, confident in the design of the Share XL and her level of molten arousal to allow for her continued gratification. "You like that, Sexy Girl? My – ungh – little – mmm – pony."

She's too far gone to respond. Her head lolls back to the side and she just moans and mewls out her love. Within moments, la petite mort has her and she screams in ecstasy.

I come barreling behind her, releasing with a pent up growl and explosion around the silicone cock to a moderately satisfying orgasm.

Hers though. Hers knocked her out. I stroke her pretty face again, so gentle in the repose of post-coital slumber. 

~~~Then I come back to myself and recognize that I need to get off her and pull the toy from her. I take the rather used RodeoHs from her sleeping body as well and clean up the mess I made of both of us with some baby wipes.

I kiss her cheek good night and pull her in to me. Then I kick up my ehookah, pop in my earbuds, and turn on my projector to see what's got Jon Stewart's knickers in a twist tonight.

My alarm goes off what seems like moments later. She murmurs something angrily in her sleep, but I can't make out what it is she's saying and don't want to rouse her because we were up until the wee hours. I kiss her cheek good morning and tell her to be good before I get ready, grab a Lean Body, and head out the door.

It's Friday morning, so I'm not going straight to the office. I stop on the way to talk to my girlfriend's shrink and drop by the clinic. It's been a big week of firsts for her - including anal sex, bondage, and seeing Teeg's tryst – and it's not even the weekend yet. I think we're still on track though. (We use Friday as a slop day for catch up on paperwork, presentation design, phone calls, etc, so I typically arrive late at work and cut out when I feel comfortable with the next week's planning.)

I've a lunch/shopping date with Melody and Anne - who's finally back from her six month NOAA trip as of late last night - so I'm rapidly working through my pile of emergent issues and my prep work for a dealership in California we're taking over next week. The process is made much easier since before I even arrive Sherry has everything I need laid out and ready for me. Also, at 11:30 am exactly, she walks in my office with my lunch and a blue Monster. She's grossly overpaid and worth every penny.

"Hey, thanks," I take the energy drink from her, but decline the lunch, "I'm going out today. Maybe see if Meredith wants it?" Meredith generally brown bags it and might like something from Jersey Mike's Subs.

Sherry nods and smiles, but makes no move to walk away. I flip her off and she guffaws, but stays while I call my girlfriend.

"Hey Baby." She sounds like I woke her, but I'm not going to tease her for sleeping in since I'm the one who kept her up late.

"Hiya, Gorgeous. Are you still heading over to Nic's this afternoon to help with the party favors?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I'm going to lunch and out shopping with Melody and Anne, but we'll meet you at Nic's before we head over to the party at Cherry Girls' Bar. Okay?

"Okay."

"Are you ready for fantasy night?"

"I don't know. Give me a hint?"

"Hmmm. It'll have you buzzing all night?"

"That's not really a very helpful hint, Baby."

"It's not really meant to be a very helpful hint, Playmate."

There's a pause while she pouts.

"I love you, Sexy Girl, and I'll see you later."

"I love you, too."

After another hour or so of work, I'm just wrapping up the last phone call when Melody and Anne walk in my office. I can tell by the way Melody is smiling that she can't wait to say something to me and as soon as I hang up, she lets it go.

"Hi there, Fuck-a-Bunny!"

Damnit Nic.

"What's Fuck-a-Bunny?" Anne asks with feigned innocence.

"That is the question of the week," Melody keeps the teasing going, "Is it the 'it' new vibrator?"

"Expensive escort service?"

"Bestiality support group?"

"Your new girlfriend is secretly a furry?"

"Ennnt!" Melody corrects Anne, "We like Jenny."

"We like Jenny?"

"We tolerate Kay. We like Jenny."

Anne turns to me.

"We like Jenny."

Gentle reader, to clarify that exchange, Melody informed Anne that they – meaning Melody and Anne as a pair – were fond and protective of my girlfriend. (Specifically more fond and protective of her than me, their friend since we were all teenagers.) And Anne – having never even met my girlfriend – informed me that she agreed entirely with Melody. 

I like her being protected and can take the ribbing, so it's fine with me. They're worrying though.

Melody and Anne have a deeply unhealthy codependent relationship that apparently hasn't changed with Anne's absence. Although both entirely straight, (believe me, I've tried for years) they're more mind-melded than any lesbian couple I've ever met. Adrianne, Elle, Nic, and I all think it's why neither of them can develop a strong romantic relationship, because they're their respective life partners.

Yes, we gossip, which is why I have to take the Fuck-a-Bunny thing on the chin. It's healthy and useful. Speaking of:

"So why does it say 'O'Brien's Raging Bitch Week' on your secretary's wall calendar?" Anne asks of honest curiosity.

"Because she thinks she's funny and that SHE WON'T BE FIRED!" I shout for Sherry's benefit, but only because I know she'll find it funny. "And she's the office manager."

"Is she marking your cycle? No matter how much of a 'raging bitch' you are with PMS, that's plain weird." Melody disapproves.

"No. Jenny goes back to the night shift next week and I'm apparently unpleasant to work for when I'm not getting time with her." Raging bitch might actually be a fair description. I don't cope well.

"Awww," Melody nearly chokes laughing, "Does the big bad Kay miss her cuddle buddy?"

"You don't get snuggles wiv your widdle teddy beaw," Anne joins in.

Yes. Okay? Yes, I miss holding her on nights she works. She's soft and smooth and warm and snuggly and I just miss her. Turns out that after five months, I like the cuddling as much as she does and I physically yearn for her so much that I've trouble sleeping without her in my bed. Hence the raging bitch.

But I can't admit that to my two oldest friends. I've spent the last decade or more loudly quoting the chorus to "99 Problems" by Jay-Z. 

"When she's gone, I don't get as much 'physical affection,'" I actually do the air quotes with my hands, "as I'd like and it leaves me grumpy."

"Wait," Anne doesn't believe her ears, "you're faithful now?"

"I know right?" Melody answers for me, "I told you we like Jenny."

"She deserves fidelity." I answer honestly. I told you, we gossip. If I admit to harmless sex while I can't be with my girl anyway, my friends would all have a fucking intervention on me in as much time as it took to send a group text. 

[We bloody-fucking-well would. – Nic]

We hit the shops at The Bravern, picking up a few things, but mainly catching up. On our way over to Neiman's, I see a booth selling a variety of jewelry, and a necklace catches my eye. Princess Zelda on a silver-colored chain. Without thinking, I stop to buy it for her. Anne shoots me a funny look.

"For Jenny," Melody answers for me while I pay.

"What is it?" Anne looks critically at the cheap necklace I've purchased for the woman I profess to love while I carry a bag with a bikini from Tory Burch's and another with a dress from Karen Millen's. 

"It's Princess Zelda." I question my choice. If I walked 60 feet to the jewelry counter at Gucci and bought her the prettiest or costliest necklace, she wouldn't like it or want to wear it as much as the $9.99 one with the Nintendo princess pendant in my hand. Still, I feel a bit bad for not spending more on her.

"I thought Zelda was the little green man?" Anne frowns at the new disparity.

"No. That's a common misconception. Link is the little green man, a Hylian Seeker actually, who repeatedly rescues Princess Zelda from the brigand Ganon throughout time." I frown myself and look at the trinket I've gotten her. She's going to break into the biggest smile and do a little hop/shake thing when she sees it. That's all that matters.

I look up to see my friends staring at me and then they break out laughing.

"Fine. I'm a sap."

"And a geek. Don't forget geek." Melody smiles, not quite mocking and not quite proud.

We shop at Neiman's rather uneventfully and then head over to John Howie Steak for our reservation for 3 for lunch.

We've barely sat down when her ringtone – "Shameless" by Garth Brooks – plays from my phone.

"Hey Cutie, what's up?"

She's agitated and kind of incoherent. She's gotten into a misunderstanding and now she's frightened.

"Jenny, Angel, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. I'll be there soon. Just hand her back your phone." She does and I talk to Dr. Hartford directly. "Please? I love her. And she's scared."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

After our first bath night together, I put my girl to bed with her lightest silk panties on and insisted she not touch herself. Stopping myself from touching her as her cute, silk-clad bottom rubbed against my naked pelvis proved the more difficult challenge.

I persevered. I smelled her hair, like fresh spring. My arms stayed wrapped around her velvety, bath-softened skin. I warmed under the top sheet as her body heat soaked into me. And I stared at the wall passed her sweet head and counted to one hundred again and again until I eventually fell asleep.

Her rustling woke me and I looked to the digital clock to find the time just after 2am. Thinking she was having a bad dream again, I shushed her and cooed dotingly into her cute little ear.

"Baby," She seemed to really be struggling and - foggy as I was - I grew concerned, "I've got to get loose, please. I need to go."

"Hush, Kitten. You're safe. I've got you."

"No. No, I've got to, you know, go."

I growled.

"Alright, Cutie. Hurry back." In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, I watched her cute ass bounce in the aqua panties and her silvery hair bounce on her pale shoulders while she hastened to relieve herself.

The bed stayed warmish from where she'd lain in it and her scent lingered, but she wasn't there and I didn't like it.

She came back quickly, with cold-hardened nipples and a covering of goose pimples. I imagined the relative chill was worse for her and she'd no reason to dally.

Still, I was fully awake and peevish when she reclaimed her place. As she nestled back into my body, I somewhat innocently kissed her slender neck and did some quick hygienics mathematics. Her pretty pussy had been shaved several hours before and was probably okay for some attention.

~~~At that point I realized that my hand was already cupping her though her wispy little silk panties. Naughty hand.

She purred delicately as her back arched a little and her juicy peach pressed unconsciously into my hand. I was in no mood for delicate though. She'd woken the sleeping giant.

"You want to have some fun, Playmate?" I asked rather rhetorically, my fingers slipping past the gusset of her undies to caress her newly bare lips.

"Shouldn't –oooo- shouldn't we get back to sleep, Baby?"

My infiltrating fingers tickled her, making her giggle fetchingly.

"Oh, I'd like to, Sweetie. But I've got this hot blonde chick in my bed with me and I can't stop thinking of ravaging her. I rather think I will, actually."

Distractedly, she breathed, "You can have anything you want from me, Baby."

I whispered so quietly into her pretty ear, "Be very careful what you promise me when my hand is where my hand is." She trembled in anticipation.

My middle finger slid between her lips to find the moisture there and make her jolt back into me. My lips returned to their light kissing of the back of her neck while I kept fingering her to higher levels of arousal. She had to be totally wet for what I was going to do to her hot body.

Without removing the finger that I actively used to spread her slickness all over smooth pouty lips, I ripped the flimsy panties off her to be rewarded with her gasp of surprise.

"Your pleasure is mine to take, Sweetness," My tongue teased the shell of her pretty ear again before some talented nibbling of what's one of her most sensitive erogenous zones. 

After a few minutes of coping with the attention, she started to wriggle and to try to raise one leg to give me better access. As per usual, that made me want to tease her and make her beg. But I wanted mine at that point too and I wanted it more. 

I put her on her back and overlaid her, the sheet sliding down to lay across the small of my back and cool air of the room hitting my upper body in sharp contrast to the heat radiating from beneath me.

I covered her face with kisses and licks. Quick and gentle. At one point I noticed myself lick from the point of her chin to the corner of her jaw. But what my mouth did to her face wasn't my focus.

My legs spread over her right leg to pin it down briefly as I came up onto spread knees and pulled her left leg over my right hip and held it to my body with my right arm.

Her lower body rotated about 45 degrees in my solid grasp as I lifted her torso partially off the bed. Have I mentioned how much her flexibility, in every sense, makes our sex life so fun? And that was before she started yoga too. Still, I hold her right leg with my left hand for stability for her.

As I pulled her to me, I held when her smooth, slick sex came into contact with the red bush she asked me to keep hours earlier. Watching her face register the texture with a curious wonderment made me smile, even in my lust.

I brought her tight against me and her honey-golden brown eyes opened. Her sublime countenance expressed her desire, her submission, and her devotion through them before she lowered her gaze to study the melting point where our bodies met.

With the most minute movements of my hips and hers, I squeezed her glistening pussy against mine. She stared, fascinated. I felt her sexy hips trying to undulate, but I constrained her. 

From our respective positions, I easily controlled her body and rubbed us together at an increasingly furious speed. I kept my own body under control as well and my orgasm at bay longer than I'd usually deny myself. I wanted to come with her.

Her groans of effort from beneath me spurred me to quicker movement. I humped down onto her with the lubricated ease provided by my earlier efforts.

I checked in with her visually. Her perky breasts fell back into her chest and jiggled. Her eyes stayed closed and her hair began to mat with sweat. My pretty girl's lips parted in a continuous pant and she seemed as concentrated as me on experiencing the sensations of tribadism.

Her body stiffened and her legs locked, telling me her orgasm was nigh and giving me carte blanche to expedite my own.

I ground into her with no moderation at all. My clit became a spike in the slippery humid mashing of our honey pots together and I dropped her left leg to grab the headboard for support as tremors assaulted me, spider-webbing from my fluttering pussy to my curling toes and the tips of my ears.

Release hit us both within seconds of each other and I fell backwards. Our legs remained intertwined and we both struggled to catch our breath.

~~~Sweetly, I bent my head to kiss one of her feet and suckle each of her cute toes in turn as she hummed happily. I flipped around on the bed to lick her soles, slightly more calloused from her work standing all day (or night), but still unusually soft. Next, I sucked the toes of her other foot and swirled my tongue around them. 

Lovingly, I worked up her legs, skipped her oversexed cunny, and over her hips and tummy. I stopped to massage her stomach and dip my tongue in and out of her belly button because I like the way she purrs when I do.

Gently, I fondled her pert breasts. Her nipples were still hard and tight under my tongue and rubbery between my fingers. Her purrs softened to sighs as I continued with tender breastplay. 

Her breathing changed and I realized that she'd drifted off as I pampered her body, so I took her back in my arms, pulled the sheet back over us, and cuddled my adorable sleepyhead. 

Feeling satiated and ready to return to dreamland as well, I fell back to sleep pondering the benefits of having my sweet angel with me. The carnal convenience of keeping such a sexy and welcoming woman nearby was obvious (and true), but it went deeper for me.

I liked holding her in the tender fondness of my relaxed afterglow. I liked waking with one hand cradling her cute little coochie too.

We woke to my alarm. It was a bit early, so I took her for a tour of the house after dressing – me in a black skirtsuit with a burgundy blouse and matching pumps and her in super heroes tee shirt and lounge pants – and breakfast. She'd already seen my bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen in depth, but got introduced quickly to the gym, living room, den, utility room, office, balcony, spare bedrooms, and other bathrooms. Everything went well until we reached the spare bedroom that I intended to be her study.

"So I'll move the furniture that's in here into storage and then we can put all your furniture in here so that you can have a room of your own."

She looked up at me, hurt, "I don't want a room of my own."

I did not understand how I'd offended her, but she needed a place for her things and a place she could go if we got into a fight or if she needed to be alone. A space where she could be in charge of herself – to play all her games, watch her shows, and read her books and comics – is important. There needed to be a place in my house that she could feel was hers.

"Cuteness, 'a woman must have money and a room of her own[.]'"

"I don't want one."

"'A woman must have money and a room of her own[.]'" I frowned and repeated the famous Woolf quote, near to gospel to me.

"Baby, that's silly." She looked so mad, but mad on her looks cute. Her face scrunched up and she sort of did a little hopping motion from one foot to the other. She was literally hopping mad, but she was also wearing Batmen, Supermen, Green Lanterns, Wonder Women, and other cartoon characters I didn't recognize on her clothes and making the cutest little snorting sounds. 

Sometimes it's hard to take her as seriously as I should, but this was the closest we've ever come to a fight and I should have recognized that she was honestly upset.

"Have you not read 'A Room of One's Own' yet, Sweetheart?"

"No." Nothing about her body language changed.

"Okay. You need to read it while you're off next week. A woman needs some level of independence and I'm taking a lot of your independence away."

"I don't want to be independent. I want to sleep with you." She actually switched from a hop to a stamp at that point.

She thought I meant for her to stay in her room while I stayed in mine. I carefully enfolded her in a tight hug to hide my amusement at her misunderstanding and kept myself from laughing and making her feel bad.

"Kitten, you're sleeping with me, in my bed, every day. Even if I have to drag you in there caveman-style, I want you with me." I gave her pretty blonde hair a little tug to emphasize the point. "This is just a room for you do your hobbies and be on your own when you feel like it. Think of it like a Geek Cave for you, okay?"

"Okay, Baby." I released her and she glared at the soon-to-be converted room like she didn't trust it yet, "Time to go to work?"

"Yes, Beautiful." I walked her to my Jaguar let her in.

My hand rested on her thigh as I drove to the coffee shop and picked up our morning order, then let my Chai Tea Latte get cold so I could keep mildly caressing her upper leg while she sipped her cocoa. I prefer to drive stick when alone for the more satisfying feeling behind the wheel. But I chose my automatic because I like to feel that warmth under my palm from a pretty girl. Especially my pretty girl.




My GF; Fucking & How We Met Ch. 06



I dropped her at the Children's hospital, but didn't go on to work. I stopped by Emerald City Medical Arts for my weekly instead and then drove around the lake to 1818 Westlake. I had a few minutes before my appointment to see my girlfriend's new therapist, so I walked the marina and took in some salt air and breeze.

I love my city. All the people who complain about the drizzle in Seattle, well, they're right. It rains lightly a lot and heavy sometimes. But fuck 'em anyway. On days like that when the weather should be a put off, I look out over the Lake of Shining Waters and see the grey-blue of clear glass and cloudy sky melding together and feel at peace.

Refreshed, I walked into Dr. Caldwell's office, gave my name to the bubbly secretary, and took a seat in one of the comfortable saddle brown leather club chairs in the waiting room. A couple minutes passed and I was just getting into a current Economist article when my name was called.

"Good morning, Kayleigh," Dr. Caldwell greeted me and gestured to a couch for me to have a seat. "How can I help you today?"

"You saw my girlfriend, Jenny, yesterday?"

"Ah. I can't discuss her session with you." Adrienne recommended Dr. Caldwell as a therapist with expertise in adult patients with Asperger's and patients with a history of abuse. I'd expected at least that baseline of professionalism.

"No, of course not. I want her to have confidentiality with someone who can help her with...things." The good doctor has come to know as well as I what those "things" are, but I didn't know what they'd discussed the day before and I really do want to protect my girlfriend's confidences. 

"So what is it you'd like my help with for yourself?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing about me directly. I'm aggressive, self-seeking, capricious, controlling, and ruthless, with rather fluid ethics. Generally, I like all those things about myself, but I don't want to run roughshod over her." I paused to phrase my request right. "Doc, I'm pretty sure she'll do anything for me and I want to ensure that what I ask for from her helps her."

"Give me an example?"

"Alright. She's nervous about meeting my friends. It needs to happen eventually and they'll be welcoming and kind. How can I best get her through the initial meeting and help her be comfortable with them?"

"She'll be most comfortable if the verbal interaction is limited at first. Pick an involved activity and one that provides obvious topics to discuss after, like a movie or a concert. A huge group can be hard, but too intimate a group can be too. Try to be sure she can contribute to the conversation if she wants, but don't let it become an interview. What else have you been trying to navigate?"

"With her background, can I spank her?"

The shrink and I kept talking for the full hour. On my way into work afterward, I made one more stop at the drycleaner. I had to pick up my outfit to be her stripper for the night.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Friday morning, I wake to the scent of lavender from my girlfriend's pretty red hair as she kisses me goodbye and tells me to be good.

I go right back to sleep. The sex doesn't hit my Amazon girlfriend as hard as it does me. She's off at work and lively, but I just want to conk back out and sleep until noon.

I almost do, but she wakes me with a phone call so I'm technically getting up while it's still morning. She also teases me about what she's doing to me tonight and gives me a fake hint, so I hang up in a mischievous mood and change my plan a little. 

I'm not due at Nic's until 3pm, but I figure I'll head over to her house early and surprise her when she comes home from the bar and shopping for party favors. 

There are no cars at their big house when I arrive, so I know that Dr. Hartford, Nic, and the maid are all gone. Surprise plan in motion, I pop in the alarm code and step inside.

My girlfriend has a maid for her house too, but she comes by while I'm at yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays now. I thought it was weird, but Nic says it's normal.

They have a coat closet by the main door with little slats in it that I can see through from within, so I shut myself inside and wait for Nic. 

After about 10 minutes of sitting still, I'm rethinking my plan (or any plan in which a key element is me sitting still) when the door opens.

Nic hurries in and doesn't notice me, but she's carrying bags while she rushes inside and I don't want her to drop anything. I decide to jump out when she comes back through to bring in all the rest.

But when she returns, she's naked.

Nic is a very beautiful woman. She's a mixture of African-American and Filipina-American, with a perfectly symmetrical face, slender hands, warm brown eyes, and a fun four inch afro that bounces when she walks or shakes her head. She has a tinkly happy laugh and is always kind and honest with me too.

Dr. Hartford likes her to wear boy clothes though, so I have never had a good chance to see Nic's body like this before. She's toned, but really curvy and inviting. 

As she skips lightly across the floor and kneels next to the door, I realize she's not completely naked. She's wearing thick leather bracelets.

Her kneeling confuses me, in both why and how.

Dr. Caldwell taught me to do a kind of body language math to read physical expression when I'm confused, but she's a false equation. She's kneeling, which means hurt or tired, but her shoulders are locked back high and her chest is thrust out, which means proud or resolute, and then her head is bowed with her eyes downcast, which means shame or prayer. Her face is no help. It keeps twitching between happy signs and serious signs. Her arms are up with her fingers laced behind her head. I don't know what that means.

Whatever she's doing, it must be private and it's way too late to come out of the closet without seriously embarrassing both of us. I should probably stop peeking at my friend now, though.

The closet ceiling is much less interesting.

I hear the main door open again. I look even though I know it can't be her leaving. My girlfriend told me Nic is into voyeurism and exhibition, but I'm sure she wouldn't go outside with no clothes on.

It's Dr. Hartford coming in, I guess on an afternoon lunch break. She's wearing a somber gray blazer with a long loose skirt and flats. Her rich brown hair with iron gray streaks is in a tight, old-fashioned bun. And she ignores Nic entirely.

She opens a tall cabinet with a little lock on it and takes out a crystal decanter and one tumbler. She sets the tumbler on an end table next to a comfy-looking armchair and pours it full of a brown liquid and sets the decanter down beside it.

Nic doesn't move, doesn't talk. Neither of them greet each other. It's weird. This is weird, right?

Dr. Hartford returns to the cabinet and takes a short length of chain, a diamond choker with a tag, and riding crop – oh. ~~~It's a sex thing.

I really shouldn't be watching this. I can't exactly hop out and yell surprise at this point either. And, well, wouldn't you watch?

It's fascinating. Their interaction is wrong. It's not how they behave together. 

It doesn't feel wrong though, just intense. The room I'm watching has too much stored energy waiting to become kinetic?

Still silent, Dr. Hartford walks to Nic and whips her on the front of her really nice thigh. My friend's arms drop to her sides. 

Dr. Hartford steps behind her and brings her arms behind her back, presumably to attach Nic's wrists together with the length of chain. Then she fastens the glimmering choker around the kneeling woman's slender neck. With her left hand now free, Dr. Hartford runs her fingers through Nic's hair and pets her head briefly. Then she cracks the crop down on Nic's butt and goes to sit in her chair.

The doctor sips her drink while she watches Nic duck walk across the floor to kneel on the rug at her feet. Then she lovingly caresses the side of Nic's face and for the first time, speaks.

"Darling, I need to leave for work again in 45 minutes. Give me a foot rub and please me."

The conversation comforts me somewhat, even one-sided as it is.

Nic nods, then removes Dr. Hartford's shoes and starts rubbing her stocking-clad feet. Dr. Hartford sighs and relaxes into her chair, still sipping her drink.

Now that I know what's going on and I'm not afraid of being caught, I relax a bit too. Right or wrong, the damage is done and I may as well enjoy my crime. I'll sneak out after and tell my girlfriend. She'll apologize to Nic for me.

Crisis of conscience tabled, I watch my friend demonstrate her massage technique. Her breasts wobble as she presses hard into Dr. Hartford's feet. She's gorgeous, and seems even more lovely as she devotes herself to Dr. Hartford.

The doctor herself moans with pleasure, apparently finding both physical and sexual pleasure from Nic's hands manipulating her feet.

She terrifies me a little, Dr. Hartford. Not that I think she'd attack me. It's more like the way police officers are scary, only more concentrated. 

She's very attractive, maybe even more so for her aura of peril, but traditionally too. She has a regal quality to her and a great figure. Like a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother. 

[Oh, how the fuck should I know what that means? Dr. Marion Hartford is beautiful and commanding with a panty-dropping authoritarian presence. I adore her and am amazingly lucky to share my life with such a forcefully magnetic woman. – Nic]

Dr. Hartford seems content with her foot job, because she sets down her now empty glass, leans forward, and swats Nic on the butt smartly with the crop. 

Nic scoots herself forward to the edge of the chair and from the new angle I can see her bare shoulders, her back, and her generous bottom. Only her wrists shackled behind her mar the view.

Dr. Hartford spreads her knees wide to accommodate. Nic ducks her head under Dr. Hartford's skirt. The doctor puts a hand on the very notable lump in her skirt where Nic's head must be, lays down the crop, closes her eyes, and sighs deeply.

The lump moves slightly in Dr. Hartford's lap and I hear – albeit muffled – the familiar sounds of a woman being pleased by lips and tongue. 

Dr. Hartford's scent fills the air and she's enthralling.

The woman herself lets her head fall back. I've met her dozens of times now, but I've never seen her look so open and unguarded. Even though Nic is the one bound and undressed on her knees, she seems more exposed in this moment.

When Dr. Hartford cums, it's quiet, dignified, and unbelievably powerful.

She takes a few moments to gather herself, then taps the lump in her lap. Nic, who's way more coordinated with her hands cuffed behind her back than I would be, backs out and remains kneeling. 

A trace of cum glistens on her lower lip and down her chin. I marvel at how much discipline she must have to not lick it off.

Dr. Hartford stands and adjusts her skirt. Then she reaches down to collect the cum off Nic's chin with a single finger, brings the finger to her mouth, and sucks it clean. Her now clean hand pats Nic on the head.

~~~The ever neat Dr. Hartford next deliberately picks up the tumbler and decanter and puts them back in the cabinet. In succession, she picks up the crop and walks behind Nic to remove the chain and choker.

When she bends over Nic, she notices me in the closet. 

Her eyes catch mine. 

I look away and then back at her feet.

My breath hitches.

"Whoever is in my closet, open the door. Now." She sounds furious.

Shaking, I slide the door open and stare at the floor.

"Jennifer? What are you doing in my closet?"

"I, I, I," I can't speak. It's the gom jabbar test and I'm going to fail.

"Marion, she must- aaaaa!" Nic starts to defend me, but Dr. Hartford turns and snaps the crop sharply on my firend's thigh, leaving an angry red mark on smooth skin.

"I did not give you permission to speak," Dr. Hartford turns back and steps toward me, "Now, Jennifer, why are you in my closet?"

I can't look away from the crop as she closes the short distance between us. I can think what to say. I start hyperventilating.

She looks down at the crop too, and then tosses it away.

"Calm down, child," She strokes my hair the way Kay does sometimes, "I'm not going to whip you. Just tell me what you're doing here."

I try, but I can't seem to force any words out. I want to tell her that I only meant to surprise Nic and that I couldn't think how to get out of the closet.

"Do you have your phone with you?"

I nod.

"Well, hand it to me, child." She holds out her hand and I pull my phone from my pocket and hand it to her.

She looks through my phone for a few endless seconds, hits a few buttons and hands it back to me.

"You haven't been recording anything, so I guess it's alright. I've dialed Kayleigh. Tell her what's going on here."

I hold the phone to my ear and my girlfriend's on the other end.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I came to Nic's early to jump out of the closet and surprise her, but then she was naked and I didn't know, and then I did know, and then Dr. Hartford came, and then Nic was with her, and I was embarrassed, and I saw them, and now Dr. Hartford's mad, and I didn't tell her, and she called you, and I'm sorry, Baby."

My girlfriend tells me that everything's going to be okay and to give Dr. Hartford the phone.

"She's fine, just shaken up. Cute, really. She probably wouldn't take it amiss if you came over though." Dr. Hartford laughs softly and shakes her head as she hands me back my phone.

But then she looks at me sternly again and quietly admonishes, "You silly-silly girl, you must learn to be more cautious." She pets me again and continues less sternly and more conspiratorially. "If I didn't consider Kayleigh a friend, I'd have canceled the rest of my engagements for the afternoon and you'd be cuffed and naked on your knees next to my Nicole."

I can't help thinking that I wouldn't hate that.

She snorts delicately and steps back over to Nic, removing the chain and choker. Nic stands, embraces Dr. Hartford, and kisses her.

"You may dress and see to your little friend, darling," Dr. Hartford releases Nic and carefully replaces everything in the cabinet before stepping through the main door, "I'll see you after your party."

"Alright, honey," Nic walks to me and pulls me out of the closet, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Nic's still naked. She's still really hot.

My friend pulls me into a hug and that hot naked body presses against me. I don't know what to do with my hands. It's awkward.

She's being so nice. And forgiving. And all I can think about is how good she smells and how she looked on her knees.

"Marion likes you, but she's paranoid about being filmed. To be fair, a leaked recording of her having a little 'afternoon delight' would embarrass her professionally to no end. C'mon," Nic takes my hand again and leads me into the sitting room where all the bags are stowed. "You get started on the party favors and I'll throw something on."

I try so hard not to watch the way she sways as she walks away. I fail that test too.

The party favors don't make particular sense to me. There are jugs of sand and pebbles, dozens of empty little plastic bottles, ribbon, little pieces of parchment paper, and a bunch of various colored pens. Not sure what exactly to do, I organize everything on and around the glass coffee table and sit on the couch to wait.

Nic comes back wearing a white men's dress shirt that does nothing to hide her sexy legs and little to hide anything else. She sits and explains that they're supposed to be messages in bottles because Anne's a marine cartographer.

I notice myself noticing the shape of her nipple as she speaks, so I look down. Her feet are so pretty too. I try to look at her face as she goes on to explain how we need to tie on the ribbons to the necks of the bottles and pour sand into them, but I immediately feel the blush overcoming me and decide to keep my eyes on the party favor supplies. I hope she can't tell how much she's turning me on.

[Of course I can. And I realize that it's making her uncomfortable, but she's soooo fun to tease. Can you really blame me for having a tiny little bit of fun with her? I'm sure Kay wouldn't mind. – Nic]

"What do you want to do, Jenny?"

"What?" I miss something she'd said before.

"Do you want to tie the ribbons or pour?" she asks again patiently. Her voice is like melting butter in sugar.

"I'll pour." I doubt I'd be any good at tying ribbons.

We work and chat. I manage to find my voice and get more comfortable. I only almost jump out of my skin once, when she brushes her breasts against my arm as she leans over me to grab more ribbon.

"C-can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything, honey."

"Why didn't—That is to say, why wouldn't—Or rather—" I have trouble figuring out what I'm trying to ask, but Nic waits patiently for my thoughts to arrange themselves. "Why would Dr. Hartford not talk to you when she came home earlier?"

Nic puts the ribbon down and sets one hand gently on my knee. I stop trying to pour.

"Marion and I have a special partnership. We each support each other through the trials of daily life. One of the most grating things about her job is the constant need to talk with so many people throughout the day. As a break, she likes to come home in the middle of the day, have a glass of port and some 'stress relief' from me, and relax in silence before she has to face the noise of the world again."

A sense of relief washes over me as the equation is balanced in my head, but I have more questions.

"How does Dr. Hartford support you?"

I watch the hand on my knee squeeze.

"Well – for one – she lets me relieve her stress. Also-" 

The interrupting doorbell rings, but only as a formality. My girlfriend walks in with Melody and a beautiful blonde lady who must be Anne. When I say blonde, I mean really blonde. Her hair and skin are pale and she's tall and willowy. She could be one of Baum's "Sea Fairies."

"Really, Nic?" Melody scolds her. "Couldn't find some trousers?"

Nic mumbles something.

"Let's go upstairs, Pretty Girl." My girlfriend drops all but one small bag and takes me away. "I bought something for you that I'd like to see you try on and I bet that Melody and Anne aren't done giving style tips to Nic. Oh, Anne this is my girlfriend, Jenny. Jenny, Anne." Anne waves sweetly as I'm hauled away.

My head droops while I follow my caring girlfriend. She'd been picking out a present for me this afternoon while I'd lusted after one of her best friends.

She leads me into an empty bedroom and stops to look at me. I'm sure she can read the guilt all over my face.

"Sweetness, what's wrong?" She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me into her lap. "No one's mad at you. You shouldn't try to play tricks in other people's houses, but I think we'll all look back and laugh eventually."

"It's not that. But, yeah, that was weird."

"What's bugging you then, Dearheart?"

"I'm attracted to Nic."

"Well, yes." She rubs my tummy beneath my shirt. "You're a gay woman, Kitten. It's one of my favorite things about you."

"But Nic's your friend."

"She is. She's also a beautiful woman. I don't mind you being attracted to her. I certainly am."

"Have you ever...with her?"

"No, although she's seen me hook up with plenty of women over the years on the closed circuit cameras at her clubs. She's in a committed look-but-don't-touch relationship with Dr. Hartford though and Dr. Hartford scares the shnikies out of me."

"You too?"

"Yes." She hugs me a little tighter. "But I know Nic likes you too, and – if Dr. Hartford's okay with it - you can have a play date with Nic. I'm not the jealous type, Cutie. In fact, if you can bend Melody or Anne, I'll buy you anything you want."




My GF; Fucking & How We Met



"That's really sweet, but I actually already have all the drink need." My tone is friendly and flattered, but I glance down passed my drink and she follows my eyes and gets it. She apologizes sheepishly and steals away.

Nic stifles a giggle behind me. She's half-Black and half-Filipina, 25 or so, with pretty features and a cool 'fro. Sexy as any woman I've ever seen, but completely off-limits. Nic's a soft butch herself, partially because her face and body are so feminine that she'd need to be an outright king to look masculine. (That night Nic wore a wifebeater and blue cargo pants held up with red suspenders, but –slim though she is – her large breasts and full hips just gave the impression of borrowing a mechanic's clothes). Soft butch is also how her very dominant girlfriend – Dr. Marion Hartford, the CMO at Washington's largest health care cooperative and the unofficial HLIC of the Puget Sound – likes her to dress. Her relationship to Dr. Hartford is why I've never considered hitting on Nic. In fact, if she fell to her knees begging for it, I'd back away with my hands up imploring her pardon for leading her on.

We became friends by chance at her first EWGA event three years ago. Nic showed up in men's khakis and a button up collared shirt to the clubhouse luncheon and was seated at my table. Had she been a man, there'd have been no problem. In that sense she met the dress code, but damn do we women like to eat our own. (No pun intended in this case.) I was openly gay even then, but also a self-serving conformist in a sweater-set, so I was free to eat in peace.

A group of older conservative women began pointing while talking amongst themselves. Nic couldn't help noticing and was obviously mortified when the old biddies elected a spokesperson to give her "a talking to" about expectations and ask her to leave. Ethel Mills walked primly over, a toxic woman I knew from WWL (I know, I belong to a ludicrous number of woman's organizations, but Mrs. Quentin hates networking and Mr. Henriksen swears by it. They compromised and send me to all the women's organizations. I drew the line at WFRW.) 

The estimable Mrs. Mills spoke in her most sugary tone of condescension and informed Nic of the dress code and her failure to meet it. I wanted to wait for the old prune's full explanation, but Nic stood to leave.

"Miss, welcome to EWGA and please sit back down. Mrs. Mills misspoke and meant no offense." Nic froze and waited. 

The pernicious Mrs. Mills showed no such hesitation and addressed me with the singular lawyer smile, "Young lady, we have standards here-"

I fixed her with the exact same smile – the nearest verbal translation would be something like "I'd disembowel you for a Klondike Bar, bitch." – and quietly said one acronym, "G.L.A.A.D."

She turned on her heel. Nic sat back down right next to me. If anyone else had a problem with the way she dressed, they at least talked behind their napkins. Nic and I clicked over conversations about golf clubs and badly prepared salmon. She finished the afternoon 4 strokes ahead of me and I gave her my office number in case she ran into any further trouble.

The next day our office receptionist buzzed that a Dr. Hartford was there and asked if I'd see her. Now I certainly knew who she was, but had no idea why she knew or wanted to see me.

"Of course. Please invite her in."

Dr. Hartford is beautiful in a stately way and I get why Nic is so into her. She's also domineering and intimidating, even when I get the impression she's trying to be kindly and approachable. Dr. Hartford - beyond being the HLIC and professionally influential - is the oldest money in Seattle, has contributed to nearly every successful politician in the area, has a finger in every social pie, and is reputed to be extremely vindictive regarding even minor slights or breaches in etiquette. Until I figured out what she wanted from me, I kinda felt like pissing myself. 

"You met and played golf with Nicole Peyton yesterday?"

"I did." Is she mad about the clothes thing? Wow, self-hating much?

"She and I recently started seeing each other."

"That's nice." Does she think I'm sniffing around her new girlfriend?

"She mentioned your standing up for her and making her feel welcome. And that she could call you with any problems?" 

"I did." Does she need a civil rights advocate? Who could I refer her to? Boris and Chadwick are the best in the city, but surely she knows that?

"I found Nicole's previous friends unacceptable and forbade her seeing them. It is important she has appropriate female friends of her own age however, and I deem you appropriate. She is very shy and too nervous to call you on her own. You will be kind to her and assist her in making other appropriate young female friends?

"Of course." Thank goodness! She just wanted to help her new girlfriend into a social circle.

Dr. Hartford shook my hand and left. (If my terror seems an overreaction, please note that the Mills were removed from every guest list, Mrs. Mills was disbarred, Mr. Mills lost his construction license, and their house was foreclosed on all within three months of Dr. Hartford's visit. They left town. I'm polite and smart enough not to ask about it).

Nic called me not fifteen minutes later and asked mechanically about Labor Day weekend plans. I invited her to Bumpershoot with Teeg, Melody, and me. After getting their last names and putting me on hold for a couple minutes, she said she could go. I felt eerily it was a playdate, but Nic is a cool chick in her own right and she's always welcome. But I digress again. I was telling you how I met my girlfriend. Sorry.

So it was after 11 o'clock and Nic was clear on the actions needed to expand into Everett. While we were deciding which day we could both drive up, I heard a girl shriek, "Please don't?!" and yelp.

The majority of the clientele and I turned in disgust to see that an angry, hard-looking chick with prison tatts had a miserable blonde girl on her lap and was pouring a beer down the front of her white braless Sailor Moon tee shirt. It's probably hypocritical of me in particular to be affronted. I sat in that same booth three months earlier, pulled down the tube top of the girl in my lap, and played with her breasts in full view while making her bring herself off under the table. Still – despite my tastes and habits – I can and do differentiate between the breathy "please don't" of an exhibitionist enjoying attention and the honest alarm in this girl's voice. Either she was the best actress alive or she was legitimately freaked out. To intentionally humiliate a nice girl like her is just cruel.

Apparently bouncers Mabel and Kay agreed with me, because they were already moving on the booth of troublemaker. Again, it wasn't about the wetted shirt itself. Nic is into voyeurism (no underage sex or drinking though). Moreover, uninhibited girls with their beautiful bodies tend to attract interested women with their disposable incomes. Outright sex is both possible and encouraged, but assault is bad for business.

The girl stood and started away from the catcalls of the angry chick's rowdy buddies and their floozies at the large booth. Angry Chick grasped her wrist and wrenched her back down however, then tore open the pitiable girl's drenched white tee shirt and called her a string of cunt, whore, slut, etc.

Mabel and Kay reached the table quickly and started grabbing and chucking with admonitions to never come back. Angry Chick manages to spit in the girl's face and fling some final insults, blaming her for the group being thrown out. The bouncers had things settled immediately. Kay is retired military police and Mabel essentially looks like Dwayne Johnson in a wig, never more so than when she picked up Angry Chick and threw her bodily onto the sidewalk.

The girl was given some verbal consoling from the bar at large, but collective attention quickly turned back to drinking and dancing. The girl was still sobbing quietly, holding her shirt together with her arms crossed over her chest and rocking herself back and forth. Her body language reminded me of an abused puppy. 

She jerked her head toward the bar. Some idea dawned on her and her misery turned to panic. I assumed she was realizing that, at 1130pm, she was a half mile from the nearest bus stop that would get her on a route across town and probably had at least an hour ride and a transfer to get to any of the other districts. Seattle has one of the best transit systems in the country and I feel relatively safe here, but to be traveling on foot and by bus after midnight in a city this size while wearing a torn, beer soaked white tee shirt is foolhardy at best.

I stepped over to her out of atypical pity and offered her my jacket and a ride home. She accepted gratefully, but started crying anew. She was wearing way too much makeup and it was exceptionally garish between the crying and wiped spit. Her mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow were so caked and smeared together that her eyes were nearly fused shut. Starters needed to be getting her to a sink and getting that mess off her face.

"Don't worry, Kiddo. I won't hurt you. I just want to get you cleaned up and take you home."

"It's not that. It's all this. I can't pay."

She gestured at the table full of empty Heinekens, Buds, Coronas, and Coors. I guess she thought she was the last member of a dine-and-dash, or drink-and-dislodge as it were. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of this misused girl getting stuck with that troop's bill. She hung her head at my laughter though, and I felt bad for adding to her distress.

"No Kiddo. Nic or one of the waitresses will have charged the booth to a credit card and they'll put the bill on that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. C'mon, we'll get you all spic-and-span in no time and you'll feel better for it."

She nodded assent and I led her by the hand to the bathroom. She turned heads for the wrong reasons on the way. Besides her facial chaos, she was wearing my oversized (on her) leather jacket, a beige knee-length loose Bohemian pleated skirt, and neon New Balance running shoes. I assumed correctly that Angry Chick had pressured her into wearing a white top, her shortest skirt, heavy makeup, and no underclothes. Facing away from the girl, I was free to chuckle silently at the disparity between Angry Chick's intended ensemble and the result of the girl's innocent selections.

I had a chemically treated pocket square in my jacket for her to use (intended to clean up a different kind of sticky mess) and her face was fresh and clear in less than a minute of scrubbing. 

Woa. 

The prettiness of her face staggered me. (English Rose complexion, slightly more blooming with her hurried scouring.) Not ravishing or luscious, just so sylphlike and youthful and fetching...and just so very pretty. I gaped at her like she was a three-headed goat, which was not what she needed in that moment I suppose.

"Did I miss a spot or something?" She asked uncertainly.

"No. You're just very pretty." Oh shit. I didn't stop to lie and now she probably thinks I'm a cad throwing a line at her. Just the opposite, she witnessed me in a rare candid moment at an inopportune time. (I have used it as a line since though.) She blushed furiously and I gathered my wits, but decided the best course was to completely ignore the awkwardness of my gaffe.

"Let's head out." I thought better of taking her hand again, but she still followed me closely through the bar and out into the street. Nic laughed and made a rude gesture when I left with the girl. I ignored that too.

I couldn't ignore Angry Chick. We were spotted as we walked outside and Angry Chick plainly had not moved on. Cursing, she left the smoking area across the street at a run to accost us. Or, more accurately, to accost the trembling girl standing behind me with a death grip on my right arm. 

Great. I was about to be swung at while my right arm was held behind me. 

In all fairness, I wasn't going to win that fight with anything short of a shotgun. I'm no brawler and Angry Chick's mix of parlor and prison tattoos suggested that she'd been in and out of lock-up for several years. One prison tattoo of a naked girl on her forearm was very interesting though, because it was new (only partially healed), amateurish, and not gang-related. That meant Angry Chick was in jail less than a month ago and chose to get a shitty tattoo while there. 

That observation coalesced in to a conclusion and a plan of action – or what was a plan of action for me – when Angry Chick was less than ten feet away and winding up for a haymaker.



^^^^Will post more if there's interest.