I’ve been scammed (not really). Thursday night, Kiera decided to put me to work. It was clear that our odd friendship now had momentum; we were going to be moving closer together unavoidably now, and I was apparently going to have to put in work if I wanted her.
Friday after classes, I helped her with diapers, and tidying up a bit, giving her some much needed time off of her feet. I also played with Kieran for a little while, the little pimp. 24 hours of young women fawning over him, and his chubby little face. I won’t lie to you, I really felt a little pang in the base of my heart when Kiera took him away from my arms, finally.
She sat next to me, to rock him into a nap, while we watched tv. I found myself looking at the clock every fifteen minutes or so, knowing that we were most likely going to do something very dirty, very soon. She caught my glance, and rested her hand on my thigh.
“I wish this wasn’t so confusing, you know,” Kiera spoke, finally.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m… I dunno, I’ve never considered myself to be gay. I was never interested in women,” she started. “I just don’t really know where this is all coming from.”
“You never really know what you like until you try it, I guess,” I said to her. “What about it bothers you?”
“I guess I just thought I knew myself,” she said. We put the little chubster in his crib, after the show went off. I didn’t realize I was shadowing her so closely until she laughed at me for doing so. I immediately stepped back several feet, trying to hide my face out of shame. “I’d like to take a shower first, at least.”
“Could I join you,” I asked. She didn’t give an answer immediately, as she gathered her towel and a fresh washcloth. “Sorry… I’ll keep an eye on—”
“Yes, you can,” she said, cutting me off. “But, I actually would like to really clean myself first. You’ll be bored for a few minutes. And probably cold, too.” She wasn’t wrong. It was a little chilly, as the shower head wasn’t the broadest in the world. It could only shower down on one of us at a time, so we cycled in and out, lathering up and rinsing off. The heat brought my skin to life, and every time I brushed past her, I felt like I was going to peak, just from the brief contact.
With fire in my eyes, I turned to her, kissing her torso up and down, letting the sweet, fragrant water cascade down off of her curves into my mouth. A wild prairie of flattened, black hair wreathed her labia, and her mound, and my mouth watered as I spied the pink flesh hiding beneath the darkness. It was very well trimmed, and threshed, tickling my face, as my lips found her clit. Her clit is easily the largest I had ever seen in person (I haven’t been with too many women, to be fair), and I hadn’t really seen it in clear lighting, until then. It was probably about the length of my pinky nail, but thick, and juicy. Kiera watched me watch it throb, and she shied away from me. I looked up into her eyes, searching for permission, but she covered her face.
I placed the pad of my thumb on the side of her slickened hood, rolling it around her clit, until she had to lean against the wall for support. “Sean was always grossed out by it,” she said, her voice apologetic. I made a V shape with my fingers, gently catching her clit in the middle, stroking her off with slow, gentle, round movements. Then, while it was captive, I began to probe the inside of the hood with my tongue. Well, I started to, anyway. The sensation was so intense and alien to her, that she actively pushed my forehead away.
“I’m sorry,” I said, removing my hand from her womanhood.
“No, I’m sorry. That was a reflex,” she said. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager again, anytime we try. I just… I don’t know what to do, and then I end up feeling—”
“Kiera, it’s okay,” I said to her. “That may have been too much.” She turned off the water, and reached for her towel, while I pulled myself up. She dried me off, first, as a peace offering, and the whole process was roughly, medically erotic. It felt like being a child, being manhandled by one of the giant people called adults, when it was bath time, or time to put on clothes. She tied the towel off around my chest, tighter than I would myself, turning the towel into a benign instrument of bondage. She dried herself in the same way, and we returned to the bedroom.
“I want to try again,” she said. “No alcohol, no pretenses. I want to know if I can have sex with a woman. I need to know.” I unraveled myself for her, laying the towel out on the bed. In that moment, I was filled with a kind of self-loathing, masturbatory shame. She saw the little paunch of my belly below my navel, and the odd way my waist slumps, like I was on my way to being a much thicker woman but couldn’t even do that right. Her body is just vastly superior to mine, and I wanted her to know that. It’s hard to explain. I had to close my eyes, as I was appraised, which she found funny. She took my hips into her hands, and brought my navel to her lips.
“Oh— ohhh…” I said, and I distinctly remember this sound, because it came out so weird. I was melting in her hands, and she was flicking her tongue inside my navel as if to quench her thirst with my now liquid body. Her straight, sharp teeth grazed my belly, as she worked her way down to my mound. Her trembly hand explored the shape of my labia, as she tilted her head. I could tell from the way the cogs in her mind’s eye seemed to be turning, she was actively imagining herself in my position. When it finally clicked, she immediately began to tease my clit like she owned it. The rhythm of her hand was well practiced, yet foreign to me, and I started melting faster.
“Mmm, that feel good, babygirl?” She spoke to me like I had been born yesterday; the gentle coo of her voice relaxed me, and brought me back to a younger self; a younger self that needed to fold her arms in, by her torso, and nibble on her fingernail coyly.
“Mhmm,” I answered. I didn’t understand why my voice had to change too. I answered her like I had been born earlier that day. She laid me down on the mattress. “Will you sit on my face, please, mama?” She chuckled a dark, lavender note, as she brought her hips and her lips around. I covered as much of my chin as I could with my tongue, and she began to grind herself against my face; I thought I was going to be bathing her pussy with my tongue, but as it turned out, her pussy was much wetter than my mouth at the moment. Her canal accepted the length of my pink, twitchy flesh, rolling it around, savoring it, before returning it to the fresh air of the room, a moment later. I was getting drunk on her, and she knew it. Every time she went down, she held me and my palate captive for just a moment longer, until she was outright muzzling me with her muff.
She began to vigorously rub my clit, as she rode my face. I can’t offer you too much detail here because I didn’t exactly see what she was doing. I just know that it felt great, the technique expertly orchestrated, and fine tuned. Her hot fingers penetrated me repeatedly, as the heel of her palm took charge of my clit. It didn’t take me long, considering how long we had been at it by that point. I felt myself drench her bed sheets, missing the towel by a foot and a half. She didn’t seem to care.
I don’t think she expected herself to orgasm — it’s probably more accurate to say that I thought she would announce herself when she came. Her powerful vaginal muscles clenched and spasmed around my tongue, as she released the most satisfied sound I’d heard her ever make. She raised herself off of my chin, several cords of our mixed juices connecting us still. As she stroked her clit, I watched my own bubbling saliva roll down her labia, and land on my upper lip, and nose. I sat up to give her labia a sweet kiss, only succeeding in taking Kiera by the hips, and forcing her thick clit into my mouth. She pushed me back down, by the forehead, as she dismounted my face. “You’re such a mess,” she told me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, with a cautious giggle. “Well? Do you like women?”
“If it’s possible to catch the gay, I think I just did,” she joked, as she laid down on her back, finally taking her towel off. Her tender, heavy breasts spilled out in either direction. She saw me staring at them, her smile wavering for just a moment. “I’ve been afraid to ask you sober, but do you think you could…”
“Yes, mama,” I said, with childish glee in my voice. She let me lie down beneath her bosom and nurse softly at my own pace, while she pulled the covers over me us. The next thing I remember is waking up, safely in her arms, in the dark. 5:17. The birds would be up soon, and then the sun, and probably Kieran next. I didn’t want to disturb the end of her sleep, so I stayed where I was, watching her eyes pass through a dream cycle. She’s so beautiful when she sleeps. She’s so beautiful all the time.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5xm9lj/starlas_sex_journal_3317_fffdomfsuboralnonfic
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