BethAnne & Debbie

I wrote this story before my first real-time adventure with another woman. I really embellished the writing to help whet my growing, but as yet unfulfilled appetite for girl-girl activities. So when it was written, it was pure fantasy, with lots of room for literary license. For instance, the story proclaims I am "built like a brick outhouse." In real life, I am afraid, I don't think I would make it to the advertising section of Penthouse magazine. I was 20 or 21 when I wrote the words, but the fictional BethAnne in the story is 34. And no, dear readers, I do not have a Doctoral Degree and I don't teach biology. On the "truth is stranger than fiction" side, the story contains a lot of references to "anal" activities, something I had fantasized about since puberty but only started doing once I met my only lover. I certainly hope you enjoy it.

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My name is BethAnne. I'm a lesbian, and proud of it. I make no secret of that fact. Even my family is aware of my sexual proclivities. I have a PhD from the University of Pennsylvania, but I'm not an intellectual by any stretch of the imagination. I teach Biology at a small college near Boston, Massachusetts. That's where I met Debbie, my current lover. I guess you could say that teacher's should not choose their students for lovers, and I'd be the first to agree with you--under normal circumstances. I didn't pursue Debbie--she went after me. Not that I minded, of course, but I had been used to making my own meal tickets, so to speak, when and where I wanted, under my terms.

I'm 34 years old, and Debbie is 21. It may seem like a wide disparity between our ages, but it has never been a problem. She's a senior, majoring in--you guessed it--Biology. In some ways we are quite opposite--like I'm dark-haired and she's as blonde as they come. I'm built like the proverbial brick outhouse and Debbie is slender and small-breasted. I like the quiet solitude of making love by the fireplace on a cold winter's night, with lots of hugs the next morning; Debbie will do anything for a sexual thrill. She is, to say the least, insatiable in that area. I like Mozart; she likes heavy rock. I like exotic foods; she likes hamburgers and French fries. It has been said that opposites attract, and I guess our relationship goes to prove that.

I will say this--we are completely compatible sexually. I get my fireplace romance when I want it and she gets her kicks in some rather of kinky ways whenever she wants it. Yes, sometimes I have to play the domme and punish her, because she has that side of her as well, but primarily I like getting off by letting her lick my slit or, when I really get hot, my anus. We are both happy when the other gets off, and we are tolerant of each other's needs. We've been together now for almost three years, so I guess we're doing something right.

Last night it was my turn to be the aggressor. When I came home from teaching my last class at four in the afternoon, Debbie was stretched out across the sofa, studying Algebra--my worst subject in college, her best. She was wearing a blue denim skirt and a white pullover sweater. As was my usual custom, I came over to her and gave her a light kiss the cheek. She smelled fresh, like she had recently taken a shower.

"Hi, babes, how are you doing?"

She didn't take her nose out of the book as she responded, "Fine."

That was it--"Fine." Not a "Fine, how are you?" but just "Fine." Not one look up at me. Not a return kiss. Typical unromantic Debbie. I decided that she needed a few lessons in manners, as well as a little culture, but not in that order, so I turned the compact disc player on softly so Mozart could re-enter Debbie's life. She seemed relatively unperturbed by the event. Sometimes I just want shake the little stinker. She can be so cool at times that I wonder how she will ever turn on to me again.

I was wearing a suit, which I usually did for my late afternoon classes. This one was a light brown tweed, about 80% wool, with a matching skirt and jacket and a white blouse. I hung the jacket in the hall closet and strolled over to the little bookworm. She had conveniently bent her legs at the knees and pointed her bare feet in the air, leaving me enough room to sit down on the sofa next to her, with her legs perpendicular to my thighs and her body lounging to my left. Before sitting down at her feet, I flicked on the evening news. Just my cup of tea--Mozart and the evening news (and, of course, Debbie).

The first ten minutes of the evening news was singularly uneventful, basically the same old crap. Debbie was really absorbed in her Algebra, so I knew better than trying to make conversation with her. Her bare, creamy white legs were closed tightly. Every once in a while she kicked one or the other foot in my direction, letting it land unceremoniously on my thigh, before raising it skyward again. She did this several times, and I thought nothing of it. She was merely releasing a little nervous energy. On the third or fourth time that she did this, the bottom half of her leg remained over the top of my thigh, lingering there long enough for me to bring the palm of my left hand on her calve muscle and my other hand to her foot. Just as nonchalantly, I began gently kneading the firm calve muscle, not trying to do anything sexual (honestly), just trying to relax her.

"That feels good," she sighed, lowering her other leg across my thighs, allowing me to alternate from leg to leg.

I massaged her legs for the better part of five minutes while she turned the pages of her book, making notes in the margin from time to time. It wasn't until I started playing with her bare feet that I began to get just a little tingly. I knew she liked having her feet played with, and the both of us often used each other's feet as part of our love-making. I mean it's not like we have a foot fetish or anything like that, it's just that feet can be quite sensual. Since we often started our love-making by playing around with each other's feet, maybe it was the old Pavlovian response that started me going again.

Whatever the reason, just as a commercial came on, I lowered my head far enough to plant a light kiss on the sole of Debbie's right foot. After all, it was there for the taking, wasn't it? The gentle kiss brought a perceptible "Mmm," from her inside her throat. It was a sexual "Mmm," and we both knew it, but I gave her the same treatment she had given me by simply ignoring her and keeping my eyes peeled to the TV tube.

When I did it a second time, several minutes later, and simultaneously caressed the upper part of her foot at the same time with my free hand, the "Mmm," got louder and Debbie slowly closed the book and placed it on the floor.

"Finished your homework?" I asked.

"Not yet."

"I can leave so you can finish it. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It can wait," she said, her voice thickening slightly.

"Do you want me to turn off the TV?" I was teasing her now.

"Leave it on if you want," she replied, playing the same game with me.

"Did you just take a bath?"

"Uh-uh. How did you know?"

"Mmm, you smell nice and fresh."

"Even my feet?" she giggled.

I laughed. "Even your feet."

Debbie shifted her weight just a bit, moving her hips closer to the back of the sofa. In the process, she opened her legs, sans stockings, just wide enough to give me a fleeting glimpse of her stark white panty crotch. If she had made the movement on purpose, to tease me with a view up her skirt, albeit brief, it worked. I get turned on too easily, especially by apparently inconsequential events, and this was certainly one of them. There was now no doubt in my mind that I was going to have her, and it was my turn to be aggressive. We seemed to have an understanding about this, sometimes just a unsaid feeling that one of us would be passive. I can't say there was any rhyme or reason to our aggressive/passive traits; it would just happen that one of us would be laid back and let the other have her way. Tonight I would have my way.

Debbie, after dropping the book to the floor, placed one arm over the other and dropped her head to the top forearm, pretending to be interested in the television. She left her legs over my thighs to play with, and during the entire weather report, which neither of us paid much attention to, I rubbed her calves, her ankles, and her feet. She thoroughly enjoyed the attention.

Since she was wearing a skirt, the hem of which was about half-way up her pretty thighs, I could have easily reached inside the skirt and ran my hand up the back of her thigh, but I wanted to take things nice and easy. We had all evening, so why rush? Besides, I found that our sex was always much better when we took our time, building the mood slowly with long period of foreplay. For my part, I know my orgasms are more intense the longer I stay sexually aroused. When the commercial came on after the weather report, I hit the remote control button to turn the television off. It was time to get serious. I looked to my side at Debbie who was still reclined on her tummy, her head at the far end of the sofa. Her eyes were closed now, and I could almost hear her purring as I went after her left foot. First, I held her ankle and upper foot as I planted another soft kiss right in the middle of the sole, but this time I followed it with a light trail of my tongue. The tender touch caused Debbie to inhale deeply; her exhalation was accompanied by a throaty moan.

"Somebody likes their feet to be played with," I said.

"That feels good, BethAnne. Don't stop."

"I hadn't planned on stopping," I whispered, changing the position of her foot in my hands so I could bring my lips to the upper part, as well as the toes. I kissed her foot, ever so gently, then listened for the telltale hiss between her teeth that told me I was slowly turning her on. If I were a betting person, my wager would have been that her crotch, like mine, was beginning to lather up with some sweet-tasting juices. I would find out soon enough.

When I brought her freshly washed toes to mouth and suckled more than one of them, running the tip of my tongue between them, Debbie let out with more than a few loud moans and shifted her head once or twice from side to side over her arm. She was so easy to turn on it was amazing. But no matter how turned on she was, we both knew that it was my right to take my time and do whatever I wanted, at my pace. So I spent a good five minutes driving her crazy--licking, sucking, kissing, biting, squeezing first one foot and then the other.

I didn't exactly grow tired of this activity; I could have toyed with her toes for a much longer time, but I just wanted to move on to bigger and better things. So I shifted my behind toward the center of the sofa, my thighs moving beneath Debbie's. She lifted her hips up well off the sofa to accommodate my movement, once she realized what I was doing. In the process, her blue denim skirt shifted almost all the way up her smooth, white legs. When I centered my body beneath the middle of hers, with her abdomen over my lap, I smoothed out the skirt so it was more presentable. Not that it really mattered at this point, but my preservation of Debbie's modesty was part of my little game. I really wanted to pull her skirt all the way up and play with her gorgeous ass, but I had to take my time and do it right.

Her hips were a little heavy on my abdomen, so I shifted just enough to become comfortable. Her skirt-covered buns were there for the taking. At first, I rested my right forearm on the back of Debbie's thigh, my elbow digging into the soft, warm flesh just beneath the hem of her skirt, while I gently scratched her back with my other hand, over the top of her pullover.

It would have been the perfect position to give her a little spanking, but that is what she liked to do to me. I decided to concentrate on the more genteel side of my sexual character and let Debbie stay with the kinky stuff. Besides, I was having enough fun knowing her wonderful split pumpkin was about to be mine.

After scratching Debbie's back for a few moments, I let my right hand wander down to the back of her left knee, squeezed it softly, then ran it to the hem of her skirt, lightly caressing the warm skin with my fingertips along the way. I did the same with her right leg, only in the opposite direction, this time ending at her calve.

She let a few more "Mmm's" while I massaged her legs, being careful not to let my hand wander beneath her skirt, no matter how much the both of us wanted me to. Reflexively, Debbie parted her legs a little, an obvious invitation for me to get quite a bit more friendly. I merely took the opportunity to caress the insides of her creamy smooth legs as well.

I don't know why, because I usually like to be undressed rather than undress myself in situations like this, but as I massaged Debbie's legs with my right hand, I began unbuttoning my blouse with my free hand. Her eyes were closed as she reveled in the ecstasy of the moment, so she had no idea what I was doing. I guess I just felt like being more free, and that was my way of doing it. In a few seconds, the two halves of my white cotton blouse were parted, revealing my lacy bra. I am very proud of my big tits, and really enjoyed showing them off to Debbie.

With Debbie's moans becoming more insistent, and her breathing becoming more labored, I got bolder with my hand and moved it, for the first time this evening, underneath the denim skirt, over the backs of her thighs, and then back out, teasing her cruelly, but heightening the sexuality of the moment. She opened her legs even wider now, all but telling me where she wanted my hand to go.

"Your legs are so soft," I whispered, my voice breaking slightly because of my state of arousal.

"It feels so good, BethAnne," she sighed.

"It feels good to me, too, babes."

This time I moved my hand all the way up her skirt, past the "V" of her half- spread legs, and ran my fingers over the silky softness of her panties. Looking down at the back of Debbie's skirt, I could see my hand bulging beneath it as it moved over the delightfully yielding flesh. The effect on her was electric--she raised her buns to meet my hand and groaned loudly, so much so in fact that one might have thought she was feeling great pain instead of intense pleasure.

"Oh, I'm so wet!" she cried, an obvious invitation for me to reach between her legs and search for the source of her wetness.

"I'm not finished with your gorgeous ass yet, you little stinker!"

"Oh, BethAnne, I'm so turned on. You know just how to do me. Please make me come!"

I figured it was as good a time as any to play with some other parts of Debbie's body, so I slid my left hand under her loose pullover and went straight for the bra beneath. The cup of the bra was thin enough to feel the hardening nipple inside the soft cotton. I pinched the nubbin lightly between my thumb and forefinger even as I continued to let my other hand wander all over the silky panties beneath Debbie's skirt. In the process, her skirt rode higher and higher up the stark whiteness of her legs until, at last, the even whiter bottom of her undies came into view, along with the already moistened panty crotch at the 'V' of her slightly parted legs.

I eased the skirt the rest of the way over Debbie's upward-pointing buttocks, exposing the bright sheen of the silky white panties which clung tightly to her ass. When I lowered my head and planted a gentle kiss on the back of the bikini- styled panties, nipping the flesh beneath the soft material lightly with my teeth, she moaned loudly and pressed her backside into my face. The musky, womanly odor emanating from her sex filled my nostrils and intoxicated me like no drug or alcohol could ever do. Debbie had a way of putting me on a natural high. I raised my head and placed my palms on her panty-clad ass, smoothing out what few wrinkles there were in the sexy garment.

"Are you going to do something nice to my ass?" she husked, with an air of obvious hope in her voice.

"I suppose I could, if you really wanted me to," I replied in a teasing manner.

"Yes, I do," she sighed.

"What would you like me to do to your ass, Debbie? Tell me."

I could almost hear her gulp.

"Mmm, you could use your finger... or your tongue. Yes, that would be very nice."

"Well, which do you prefer, finger or tongue?"

"I... I don't know. I like them both."

For the first time I noticed a long, thin candle, red in color, in a metal holder on the coffee table in front of us. My mind clicked instantly. It would be perfect! "Or I could put something even deeper inside you, if you would like that."

"Oh, BethAnne, you choose. Whatever you want to do is fine, only do it, please do it soon. I need it so badly!"

I leaned forward and pulled the candle from its base. I don't think that Debbie even realized what I had done. Boldly, I grasped the top of her panties and, with one quick swipe, drew the silky whites over her buttocks and half-way down her thighs. Words cannot express how beautiful the sight of the crack of her ass yielding to the crack of her slit was to my eyes. The two cracks, one wide and one thin, seemed to merge perfectly, to blend almost as one. I decided to use the wetness that had formed around the outside of Debbie's vagina as the lubricant for inserting the candle into her asshole. I dipped the elongated tip of the candle into the warm, sticky moisture of her sexual excretions, drawing some of the almost clear substance from the vaginal to the anal area in one slow movement. I think Debbie thought I was using my finger. She sighed and opened her legs a bit wider, causing the pussy lips to part far enough to reveal the soft, pink, moist tissues that lined the inside of the slit.

"Mmm, what is it?" she asked excitedly.

"It's only a candle, babes. It won't hurt." Using my thumb and forefinger, I spread the lower ass cheeks apart, exposing the tiny, pink, crinkled rosebud, surrounded by tiny, light-colored sepia. I had seen her anus hundreds of times, yet each time seemed new and exciting.

"Are you going to put it deep inside of me?"

"Uh-uh. As far as it will go!"

"Yes, I'd like that. Do you want to give me an enema first?"

The little stinker really wanted to have it all. She was almost pleading. I smiled at her suggestion. I knew she loved getting enemas, but I wasn't in the mood right now. "I don't think that will be necessary quite yet, Debbie," I replied, leaving her some hope for later.

"Perhaps later then," she said huskily.

"Perhaps," I whispered.

I placed the tiny red tip of the eight-inch long candle against the tiny, pink, puckered anus, then listened to Debbie's long hiss between her teeth. "Are you sure it won't hurt?" she asked, her voice so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Oh, maybe just a little bit, but you're a big girl now, I think you can take it."

"If it hurts, will you take it out right away?" she asked nervously.

"Of course. But if you don't want me to do it...." I teased.

"Oh!," she interrupted quickly, afraid that I might really change my mind, "I'm only a little scared."

"I thought so," I whispered soothingly. "Okay, Debbie, I want you to relax completely. I'm ready to insert it now. Mmm, I love your cute little asshole!"

I used my thumb and forefinger of my right hand to hold the candle press its tip the center of Debbie's anus. She took a deep breath and held it as I pressed inward, watching the thinnest part of the candle easily break through the lubricated sphincter.

"Oh, BethAnne, that's soooooo nice!" she exclaimed as she felt the hard wax move slowly into her.

"Did that hurt? It's in a little bit already!" I asked.

"Oh, no, not at all. It feels kind of good."

I moved the tip of candle just inside the opening, testing the resiliency of the sphincteral wall. She squirmed as the sensations went through her like tiny bolts of electric. "I thought you might like that. Keep relaxing, I'm going to put it further inside of you." She gasped loudly as I slid the candle further into her warm, dark rectum, twisting it just a bit from side to side as it entered her even further.