Category: lesbians

Freshmen Roommates Discover Each other

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After graduating high school and leaving my comfortable home in Florida, I found myself rooming with a wild child from southern California. Ella, was tall and slender with long flowing blonde hair and a deep tan. Her fit frame was ample for supporting her large B cupped breasts. Even at our first meeting, I wasn’t afraid to say how I thought she was attractive. Up to this point in my life, I had done quite a bit of sexual experimentation throughout high school with boyfriends and alone, however, I had not ventured into my bisexual side yet. Living in a fairly strict house, I hid my sexual activities and limited masturbation sessions to the shower or when I was home alone. Up to this point, my self exploration was pretty straight forward. Mostly with fingers, although I had found a hair brush handle that I became quite fond of. I knew of the world of sex toys, but wouldn’t dare to bring one into my home, for fear of being found out. My sex life was quite the norm for a high school student. Mostly consisting fooling around in the back seat, which led to many a blow jobs and eventually into some hot sweaty sex with the boyfriend of the moment. Toward the end of my senior year of high school, I had more often found myself fantasizing about being with another girl, but had not acted out on any of my torrid thoughts.

Ella and I hit it off right away. Becoming friends fast, we often found ourselves having late night erotic conversations about our previous sexual activity. It was obvious from the get go that she was far more experienced than I. Ella told stories of masturbation with vibrators and dildos and hot sex stories about being on the beaches and even on the school football field. She even spoke of an experience at a party where she found herself drunk in a bedroom with a cock in each hand. Ella never spoke of any experience with other girls so it left me to wonder if she was grossed out by the practice, or just shy about speaking of it in front of me. After ending each night and turning off the lights, I would find my hands sliding into my panties while lying in bed just feet from my roommate. As I would retell the story I had just heard to myself, as my fingers would slide up and down over my ever swelling moistening lips. Biting my lower lip to prevent the slippage of any moans, I would lye facing the wall, my back to Ella’s bed and gently moisten my pussy until access could be made to my sopping hole. Making sure to silence any noises, I would allow a finger to slip past and deliver an explosive amount of pleasure as it would plunge into me. While plunging my finger in and working in a second, I often found myself wondering if Ella was doing the same as she lay just feet away, thinking of one of my stories, or maybe me. Working my way to a silent orgasm, I would cum on my fingers and often bring them up to my lips for a gentle lick, to taste myself then doze off.

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Movie Night

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Shannon was a gorgeous, twenty-five-year-old redhead with a very sexy body. She worked out six days a week and was a very well-disciplined eater. As a result she had a great pair of toned legs, a sexy bubble-butt and a tight, trim waist. Her C-cup breasts were nice and firm and she kept her pussy completely waxed, something that her boyfriend quickly learned to appreciate. She was very much in love with her boyfriend and they talked regularly about moving in together and getting married, even though they had only been seeing each other for a few months.

Shannon was relatively new in town, so she didn’t have too many friends. Over the past couple of months she had been getting closer to one of her coworkers, Linda. Linda was a couple of years younger than Shannon and lived at home with her parents, just like Shannon. She was a beautiful blonde with healthy curves, her body certainly not as tight and toned as Shannon’s, but in no way was it less sexy. She had fairly large D-cup breasts and wide, womanly hips. She, too, had a boyfriend, although she wasn’t nearly as serious about him as Shannon was about her man.

Linda’s parents were going to be out of town for several days. While she would normally invite her boyfriend over so they could take advantage of having the house to themselves, he was out of town as well at a cousin’s wedding. After talking to Shannon, they decided to get together on the Friday night for a girls’ night. The plan was to stay up late watching movies and gossiping, with Shannon spending the night.

After watching the first movie they had rented, they started talking about their boyfriends, and also about their sex lives.

“Chris is actually really good in bed,” Shannon said. “I have an orgasm almost every time.”

“Really?” Linda said. “I’m lucky if Ian can make me cum half the time. What does Chris do that works so well?”

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Too Pretty To Be a Lesbian

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“But you’re too pretty to be a lesbian.” I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard that ridiculous and infuriating objection from both men and women, and I wouldn’t want to try. What’s even worse is when they follow that up with, “You’re kidding, right, Amy?”

Yes, I’m pretty. I’ll admit it. But why does that mean I’m not a lesbian? Is there some sort of cut-off point? I’m petite, but I’m not flat. I have well-defined curves all over, I’m just small and thin. I have a delicate, young-looking sort of face. I have almost-curly brown hair to my shoulders and hazel eyes. My lips are a little pouty. I’ve taken taekwondo so my arms and legs are muscle-toned. My hips roll nicely when I walk. And, yes, I look pretty damned cute in my braces.

Where in there did I pass the, “Sorry, Amy, you’re not a lesbian anymore,” point?

“Well, you mean you’re bi, right?” some will follow-up.

No, I’m not bi. I don’t hate men, but I can’t get emotionally attached to them the same way, and I’m not attracted to them. Yes, I’ve seen a penis before. Yes, it was erect. No, it didn’t stir some hidden desire inside me.

“Oh, so you’re a virgin.”

No! I’m not a virgin. I am sexually active and in a committed relationship with a wonderful woman my own age.

I will admit, though, that I’m not particularly proud of how I lost my virginity. It was a couple years ago, around the time of my 18th birthday. At the time I was dating Angie, a cheerleader for the high school basketball team. We were seniors and had been dating for a couple of years at that point, but Angie especially was committed to waiting for sex until we could be life partners.

Well, the, “You can’t be a lesbian” stuff was laid on pretty thick in high school. There was plenty of room in people’s imagination for lurid fantasies about cheerleader locker-room lesbo orgies, but the idea of a cheerleader in a committed, basically chaste lesbian relationship was not something anyone in our school could handle. In their minds, Angie and I were just close friends who liked to make believe about being lovers.

A couple weeks after I turned 18, I decided I’d had enough. I still loved Angie, but I needed the world to accept that I was a lesbian, and there was only one way I could think to do it.

I approached a girl named Danielle, a 19 year-old high school senior with an air of exotic maturity about her, as well as a reputation as, well, a dyke and a slut. It was rumored that the only reason she’d finally made it to her senior year at 19 was a dalliance with the female assistant vice principal. I didn’t know if that was true, but her reputation counted for everything.

Danielle was sitting by herself on a bench outside of school waiting for her ride when I approached her. She was attractive, but rebel enough in her look that she didn’t have to put up with people dismissing her lesbianism. She was a gorgeous native Alaskan with creamy porcelain skin of an almost caramel hue, shiny black hair, flinty brown eyes, and an incredible figure. But she also had three nose-rings and a tattoo of a marijuana leaf on the back of her right hand. In Fairbanks that meant she was allowed to be a lesbian.

“Hi, Danielle,” I said, wishing my voice weren’t so sweet and perky.

She looked at me and nodded silently. She knew well enough who I was, but she didn’t really have anything to talk about with me, as far as she knew or cared.

“I need your help,” I told her simply, wishing I’d dressed sexier.

She looked at me questioningly, but still didn’t speak.

No reason to not just say it, I decided. “I need you to take my virginity and I need the world to know about it.”

She narrowed her pretty eyes. “How romantic.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Danielle, I’m sorry. I know this is rude, but I’m sick of no one believing I’m a lesbian. I love Angie, but I need to prove myself.”

“What, you want me to take your ass with a dildo in the gym while a bunch of people watch?”

I blushed even deeper. “Fuck you,” I finally said.

“No, fuck you,” she returned, getting up to walk you. “You’re too insensitive to be a lesbian.”

That burned, and I reeled for days. Then, on Angie’s 18th birthday, I had myself a plan.

My mom was going to be out of town on Friday night, so Angie and I made special plans for me to cook her dinner at my house. I told her to be prepared to spend the night, and while she was hesitant, I insisted that she at least be prepared to stay, even if she changed her mind later. She agreed, and the rest of the week, our hearts were aflutter and our stomachs full of butterflies.

And my spirit was still full of anger and pride. It’s almost painful to remember, but so intent was I on proving myself that I set up two hidden webcams in my house. One in the living room attached to my laptop and the other in my mom’s bedroom, attached to her computer. I even signed up an on-line site where I could post the videos, and used my own full name in screen name. I wanted there to be no doubt.

When Friday evening rolled around, I was excited and nervous all at once. I dressed in a pleated denim skirt with a light blue peasant blouse. Angie had seen my nipples once before and had been captivated by them, so I wore no bra under the lightweight top, which was loose enough that only shadows hinted at the sweet tidbits by which she was enthralled.

When Angie arrived I nearly regretted my plan, because she was such the picture of innocent beauty, but I did want to make love to her badly, and I told myself the video was inconsequential to that. A side benefit. The real point was that we would express our feelings for one another with intimate physical connection.

Angie was not your stereotypical high school cheerleader. That’s not to say she wasn’t gorgeous; she was, by anyone’s standards. But her beauty was more mature. She wasn’t heroine chic and she didn’t walk around showing off her tummy to everyone. She was a normal girl who just happened to be absolutely beautiful. Her face was round, with shining green eyes and softly turned lips, all framed by dark brown curls which hung to her chin. Her skin tanned easily, and was already olive-complected by late April. She was just about six-foot tall. Her figure was in the same proportions as mine, but the extra 10 inches translated to magnificent curves. I was especially enchanted with her thighs, of all things. I loved her in her cheer skit because it showed of her thighs so well. (more…)

Three Horny Girls

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Shawn was the first to arrive at the resort. She wore a short, tight red skirt that revealed her slender, caramel legs and her perfectly shaped ass. Her ample breasts nearly poured out of her low cut, sleeveless white blouse. Her red pumps were nearly eight inches tall. She checked herself in and sat down in the lobby. She began to reminisce on the conversation she had had with her two best friends the weekend before. “I can’t wait to see you guys. I can’t believe it has been two years since we have seen each other,”she had remembered telling Lisa and Renae on the phone. The girls had each landed jobs in different states right after college graduation, and hadn’t seen each other since. They were really looking forward to their week together.

“Damn, I am twenty minutes early,” thought Shawn, “I can barely wait to see my girls.” Just then, a beautiful, chocolate complexioned young woman walked through the door of the lobby. “Shit, that’s Lisa,” thought Shawn, “When did she get so fine?” Lisa was wearing tight fitting black leather black pants and a spaghetti strapped black tank with black heels. Shawn jumped from her seat to greet her friend, but to her surprise, another young woman walked through to door. “Great,” she thought, “Renae has perfect timing.”

“She looks so hot in those white stretch jeans and that blue spandex top.” The girls greeted each other in the center of the lobby, hugged and headed to find their room. They had decided to share a room, they thought it would be cheaper and more fun to bunk together.

When they entered their room, they were delighted to find a large Jacuzzi and huge king sized bed waiting for them. They decided the first thing they would do would be trying out the beautiful Jacuzzi. “I’ve got an idea,” said Shawn. “Do you girls remember how we used to skinny dip in college? We could do that now for old times sake. How ’bout it?” Lisa and Renae agreed that it might be fun so they stripped off their clothes and hopped in the Jacuzzi.
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Cherries

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“Let me guess,” the bartender asked, setting the glass of water in front of me. “You’re here looking for some company.”

She stared at me expectantly, a slight smile on her glossy-pink lips. I smiled ruefully at her, taking a sip of the icy liquid. “Gee, what gave me away?” I meant it sarcastically, because anyone in the bar could see what I was after, especially another woman. The little black dress gave me away, one of those sparkly knit gowns that clung to every curve, just short enough to make you appreciate a hint of thigh and wonder just how far my legs went up. Or maybe it was the heels, best described as “fuck me” pumps in glossy black patent leather. Combined with the carefully arranged hair and the makeup, I made quite a package for some lucky male to pick up. Problem was, the bar seemed devoid of lucky men, save for a few older men who knew better than to press their luck.

The bartender shrugged and proceeded to polish some glasses while talking with me. “Well, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I assume you’re here on business. So your partner isn’t here, and you’re looking for a little entertainment to pass a holiday that’s best not spent alone. Especially here in Las Vegas, the city of sin herself,” she laughed. I was amazed, because she really had hit my situation right on the nose. I was here to teach seminars to new real estate recruits, and was miles away from my husband. Not that being home on Valentine’s Day would have mattered anyway, because the bastard would probably be wooing his mistress on the side. Our marriage had deteriorated down to one simple fact: I wasn’t divorcing him because it would cost me too much hard-earned cash. So he played his field, and I played mine, and we basically put up with each other.

“Pretty much right,” I acknowledged, raising my water glass to her. “How’d you know?”

“Past experience,” she confided. “I was sitting in this very bar about three years ago for the same reason, and the bartender working then asked me the same thing.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?” I asked. She found this very funny, exploding in a sudden peal of laughter that had me raising my eyebrows. “Oh, I found it alright,” she grinned. “A nice little lass from the front desk took me home with her that night, and introduced me to a whole better ballgame.” I nearly choked on my water at her answer, staring at her with slight shock. This bartender really didn’t seem the lesbian stereotype. She wasn’t masculine in her features, and she didn’t seem like some of the feminist lesbians I’d known in college.

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Sorority Party

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My best friend Dee belongs to a sorority. They were having a party tonight and she invited my new boyfriend Brian and I. Not that anybody really needed invitations to a sorority beer bash.

Brian picked me up dressed in jeans and a green shirt, looking almost exactly like he did when I first bumped into him. I would have to do something about his wardrobe. I had dressed to kill. My red mid-length skirt was slit to my waist. My black silk blouse was backless and cut to my navel in front. My braless tits bounced seductively as I moved.

Brian was speechless when he saw me. I planned on surprising him later when I revealed that I wasn’t wearing any panties. I was having way too much fun being the aggressor in our budding relationship.

I spotted Dee as soon as we got there. Dee is shorter than I am, but much more voluptuous. Although she has perfectly huge tits, her waist is relatively narrow. Her hips and ass are five pounds away from being too big. Her dark brown hair and wide, innocent brown eyes have been the undoing of many frat boys.

“Amanda!” she squealed.

We hugged, having to shout to be heard over the music. I introduced her to Brian, whom she also hugged. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, and I assumed he wasn’t used to strange women giving him hugs, let alone one this pretty. I elbowed him good naturedly to remind him that I was his date for the evening, and that I wasn’t exactly chopped liver. My cornsilk blonde hair is long and straight, which accentuates my pale blue eyes. I’m taller than Dee, standing 5′ 8″. My curves are more proportionate than hers. I have a perky C cup with a nice, round ass.

I went to get beers for Brian and I. The woman pouring drinks looked me up and down. Dee had warned me that there were a few lesbians in the sorority. She was very attractive, although a bit masculine. She was slightly taller than Brian, with dark brown hair and an angelic face. Her trim, athletic figure was clothed in jeans and a deep red shirt.

“Well, don’t you look fine tonight, honey,” She said.

“Thanks,” I replied uncomfortably. I could feel her gaze on my back as I made my way to the dance floor.

I was right about Brian’s lack of dancing skills. A number of guys tried to cut in as we danced. A couple of them were pretty hunky, and all of them had big egos. I got a kick out of turning them all down.

Hours later, and more than a few beers, I was in the mood for some dirty dancing.

“Can I use your room?” I asked after I cornered Dee. She lived in one of the house’s rooms on the second floor.

“What for…oh!” She said, blushing. “You mean right now? With Brian? While the party is going?”

“I haven’t been laid in almost a month,” I pouted. “I’m horny and I’m afraid we’ll both be too drunk to do it if I wait.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But only if you do my laundry tomorrow. I’m not going to sleep those sheets.”
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Sapphic Stewardess

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I had just completed my sophomore year in college. I grew up in Boston and had spent my entire life in New England. Now I was attending one of those prestigious but rather prim ‘seven sister’ colleges of which my mother and my two older sisters were both alumni. And that was after years at a dreary preparatory school my mother, too, insisted I attend. After all, mother, grandmother before her, and my two sisters had gone there and it was another of those absurd ‘family traditions’ to which they insisted I, too, adhere. While in some ways it is advantageous to grow up privileged, as I had, it can also be very stifling. Especially in that austere world of the New England aristocracy. We were all so damned ‘civilized’ that sometimes I wanted to puke. Often when your upbringing is overly refined and ‘proper,’ as mine was, one’s imagination becomes very fertile. One dreams of wallowing in more tawdry terrains, of transgressing the bounds of propriety, of deviating sharply from the expectations of polite society… of being free and wild! And this is especially true in the sexual domain where three centuries of Puritanical influence have had their effect on the sexual climate of the region and, in particular, its more ‘proper’ denizens.

Now that I was in college I was better able to exercise that freedom I had so long sought — but only to an extent. For the ‘prestigious’ New England four-year women’s college in many ways only continues the constraints of the kind of childhood I had experienced. Freedom was still stifled, now not only by an old-fashioned puritanism, but by a new form of shrill puritan body of belief — a pervasive feminism which insisted, no less than the pulpit, that only certain beliefs and behaviors were ‘proper’ for a woman. And so, still, I longed for the open, unfettered, spacious freedom I had so long sought. A freedom where I wouldn’t have to constantly conceal my needs and desires from others who would think them inappropriate.

And naturally, as is the case with so many women my age, the freedom I was especially eager to taste at this stage of my life was sexual freedom.

You see, I am blessed (or cursed, some would say) with a intense, sometimes rapacious libido. I was aware of this from the first early simmering moments of my sexual awakening. My girlfriends had long regarded me as being ‘boy crazy’. My chronic yearning for pleasures that could be achieved with the opposite sex — and with one’s own fingers! — had grown steadily to the point where I can now honestly and unabashedly claim that I am quite thoroughly addicted to sex. It’s probably not too much of an exaggeration to say that I am addicted to my own surging, volcanic libido. Maybe one day if this gets out of hand I’ll need to visit one of those Sexaholics Anonymous chapters and confess to my many excesses. But for the time being I am more than happy wallowing in and gorging on hefty doses of uninhibited eroticism.

So the plans I had made for this summer excited me with their prospects. I would be working as a waitress in the dining room of a very expensive and luxurious Wyoming dude ranch. One of my friends in college, Beth, was from Wyoming and had already worked at several of the area’s ranch resorts during high school and college, for several summers now. Through her efforts I was able to obtain a summer job out there, in dude ranch country.

Beth had often regaled me with tales of the kind of easy freedom and looseness people out West seemed to enjoy, so very different from my own rigid upbringing amidst the cotillions and country clubs of New England. Now I was eager and curious to experience that kind of world for myself.
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Intimate Shaving

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Tammy and I were having drinks at my apartment. She’s a very outspoken one. She asked if I had ever shaved my pussy. I’m an ex-beautician, and I told her that I shaved mine quite frequently. I had also shaved several customers while I was working.

“I tried it and wound up all prickly, and with a rash. I want to surprise my lover. She has never seen it bare.” Tammy said smiling wickedly at me. She had shocked me a little as I didn’t know she preferred women. My interest really peaked.

“Sure, I can shave you. When do you want me to do it?” She said that then would be a good a time as any. I have had several very sexy encounters while shaving women, and the thought of shaving Tammy make my clit tingle. We had another drink and then I got my shaving paraphernalia out. I asked her to strip. She turned her back and took off her clothes. I caught my breath as she turned around. She has a beautiful svelte body.

I put some soft towels on the kitchen table and Tammy hopped up on it , and lay back. I pulled up a chair and began the delightful task of denuding her lovely pussy. I trimmed her hair close with clippers, then spread her dainty outer lips exposing her bright pink core. Her vaginal folds were wet with her secretions. Her pussy was beautiful, deep pink and gleaming wet.

I wanted to lick her sweet pussy. I could smell the delightful aroma of a clean, aroused sex, and it made my mouth water. I held back and blotted the moisture. I applied the protective salve up and down her tender flesh. She moaned as my fingers coated her exposed flesh and slid up to “accidentally” flick her clit, just peeping out of the folds of it’s hood.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked innocently, looking up her shapely body. Her pert breasts had softened a little as she lay back.

“No, you rubbed my clit. It’s very sensitive. I’m sorry I’m so wet. Having a lovely woman, between my legs looking at my pussy so close, gets me hot.” She said looking down at me.
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Rack Em Up

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The bar was smoke filled and crowded for a Tuesday night. I walked up to the bar and ordered my regular, a scotch on the rocks. I winked at the bartender and laid my money down. “Hard day?” she asked. I nodded and sipped my drink. This place was my away, my out. When I was this tense and frustrated, I always stopped by to drown my worries. I quickly drank my scotch and tapped the bar to motion that I was ready for the next one.

The sound of pool clacked in the back room. I swirled around to look and saw that only two tables were being used. Maybe later, after a few more drinks, I’d step up to shoot a game myself. As I turned back to the bar, she caught my attention. She was leaning against the jukebox, pumping quarters in. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back and barely touched the top of her Levi’s. I’d never seen her here before, or maybe I’d just never noticed, I wasn’t sure. Come to my window cranked out of the jukebox as she returned to the back of the bar at a table in the corner.

I continued to watch her as I rolled my scotch around in the glass, enjoying the clinking of the ice cubes. My day had been torture and I vowed to forget all about it tonight with a few drinks and perhaps a game of pool. The bartender noticed that my drink was low and walked over to place another one in front of me. She touched my shoulder lightly and cleared her throat. I turned around and found the drink placed there on the dark mahogany bar. I finished the one I was drinking and grabbed the new one. “Hey babe,” I said to the bartender, “The blonde, in the back….she new here?”

“Oh, she’s been here a few times, but isn’t very regular.” she answered. I spun around again to find the blonde. She was still sitting in the corner, singing with the jukebox, slightly swaying with the rhythm. I noticed that she was drinking whisky and was soon to be finished. What the hell, I thought to myself. You’ve had a bad day, maybe she has, too. I ordered two drinks….a scotch and a whisky before I hopped down from my stool to venture into the back of the bar. I sauntered over to her table, when she looked up at me with the most gorgeous blue eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I saw that you needed another drink.” I said softly as I extended it towards her. She just smiled brightly at me and shoved the empty chair towards me with her foot. I sat down and offered my glass to toast her. Our glasses clinked and we each took a sip before she spoke. “I was hoping you’d come over…..I’d love to shoot a game of pool and had nobody to play with.” I smiled, finished my drink, and stood up. “Well honey, I’m here now, let’s play!” She blushed and stood, too.

I felt a surge of joy shoot through me and welcomed it after the day I’d had. I grabbed our sticks and she deposited the coins that released the balls. We both looked at each other as neither one of us knew who was going to rack. I opened my mouth as she grinned at me with that sexy mouth and told me, “rack ’em up, baby!” I did as I was instructed and felt a warmth take over my body. Not sure if it was the many scotches or her, I decided to just go with it and play along.

Crack! The balls went everywhere, sending them in every direction. A solid dropped into the side pocket and the game was on. I walked to her side where she stood holding her stick tightly while rubbing the blue chalk over the tip. I eyed the table, decided on my shot and bent to take it. My stick slowly slid back and forth between my thumb and finger. I licked my bottom lip as this made me think of playing with her nipples the way I played with the stick. I took my shot and missed.

She giggled and walked to the corner at the other end of the table. She bent over the table, taking a shot that seemed impossible to make. She stretched over the corner, her breasts almost touching the felt. I lost myself in her….looking down her open top at her creamy breasts. Her white bra barely containing them, they seemed to spill out. I imagined touching them, kissing them, sucking her soft pink nipples until they hardened in my mouth. I bit my lip and gasped at the thought. She made her shot and moved to my side of the table. As she passed me, between the table and myself, I caught her scent. She smelled like night blooming jasmine. She was intoxicating.
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My First Massage

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I sat in the chair waiting.

My husband had bought me a massage for my birthday, so here I was, but it had been almost half an hour and I was beginning to get irritated. I glanced in the mirror, checking my self out. I had been told the massager here was gorgeous, so I had played up my trim 23yr old body, wearing a fine lace bra and thong pantie set (another birthday present) and had my brown hair done up high. I wore a pair of tight dark grey jeans and a tank top. I may be married but that didn’t mean I couldn’t flirt occasionally

My musing was interrupted by the arrival of my massager. And gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe.. her! A woman, I was surprised. She was beautiful, a fiery red head with the tight blue uniform shirt and skirt. Her breast fairly burst out of her top and her green eyes lingered on me.

“Sorry about the delay uh?” she enquired as she sat down.

“Aurelia, Aurelia Watts” I said, I was unnerved the woman was no older then me, but she had the most penetrating gaze.

“Aurelia,” she said as if tasting every syllable “I am Samantha and we are very sorry and offer a full body massage as compensation. Would that be acceptable?”

I just nodded my head still shaken by her gaze.

“Very well let us begin, if you could please strip off everything except for your panties?” she asked in a completely straight forward tone.

I was a bit surprised by the request, but I began to strip off. But as I removed my top I saw her eyes on me again and immediately felt my nipples harden. I had never really considered another woman before, if anything it had seemed a bit gross but her I was stripping for another woman (If only for a massage and getting turned on). With a sly smile she instructed me lie stomach down on the massage table with my face looking through the small hole in the table.

Not knowing what to expect I almost jumped when she ran her hands over my left foot. With expert skill she began, first with my feet and then slowly moving her hands up my calf muscles. She was indescribable, her hands were like silk, moving and pressing their way up my leg. Her advance did not stop at my knees but carried on up my thighs, inside and out.

I suddenly found my self soaking wet this was unlike anything I had felt before, I was so turned on! I felt a soft hand brush my ass check for an instant. Before she stoped and made her way to my shoulders. I almost shuddered with pleasure as she began to stroke my shoulders. Then she bent down and whispered in my ear.

“You have the most amazing legs darling.” Her voice was deep and husky.

I clenched my teeth trying not to respond. This wasn’t right, I wasn’t a lesbian. Her hand slid down my back making circles before she came to my ass again.

“I’m just going to move this for a sec, okay darl?” she asked as her hands hooked under the lace thong, and began moving it with out waiting for a reply. I gave a kind of non committal grunt as I felt the thong pulled down to just below my ass checks.

I then felt the biggest shock of my life. I felt her run her tongue down my ass crack. This was the final straw; I pulled my self up and turned to face her, only to find her only a few inches from my face.
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