What This Girl Did For Love

Then her hands emerged from my robe and took hold of my wrists and lifted both arms which had dangled uselessly by my side, positioned them around herself, encouraging me to embrace her. And so I encircled her with reluctant arms and rested myself against her, letting my cheeks settle flat against her breast. And that is when I felt my boundaries dissolving into the shocking reality of her femininity. I became subsumed in the aura of her womanliness, her softness. And all the while my mind raced, trying to understand the implications of us being in each other's arms.

The flush of her body heat through her silky blouse warmed my cheek. I breathed deep, trying to inhale her actuality, absorb something of her essence from her scent that hung in the air about us. And beneath her perfume was her barely perceivable animalness, the residue of her long night at work behind the bar. She had a redolence of something I could not quite remember. Whatever it was about her, it stirred within me a deep longing for her. She coaxed a response from my body that no male ever had.

Her palms returned to my hips, and she massaged my buttocks while she kissed my lips, her tongue darting and curling, finally harassing mine into compliance. And all the while my mind continued racing, thinking about what making love to another woman would entail. I ran through stuff I'd seen in the videos. Would there be sixty-nine? Tribbing? I thought of Mark and the threesome he was always banging on about; shouldn't he come over and lend a hand, at least play the director.

Her fingers prowling, the flat of her hand momentarily sideways between my butt cheeks, and then on down. From behind me, she began to rub my pussy with a slightly cupped hand. Then two fingers on my clit and the heel of her palm pumping my cunt. I became sodden; everything down there was as slippery as sundried tomatoes in oil. While she fingered me, she french kissed my mouth with determined ferocity, ever more insistent, her lips milking me of saliva, Her tongue was rapacious. I gasped for breath as my heart pounded.

Then she seemed to take stock of herself, pulled away from me, and I sensed in her a fear of her own growing desire. She took a deep breath before she said, "Oh, Jeez, babe, You are so fucking hot." In her eyes, I saw how I affected her — and it pleased me more than I can put into words.

Calmer now, she began gently kissing my cheeks, my brows, the tip of my nose, and at one time her mouth covered my chin. She licked my cheeks like a happy puppy, over and over, lapping frantically. Her tongue went down to my neck, her hot breath on my saliva drenched skin. She gasped words, over and over, "You are adorable, Lauren. Perfect. Mmmm. Adorable, adorable, Mmmm!"

And I thought how so very like a man's lust her desire for me was. And even though I loved how excited I made her, I felt myself all losing rationality to the ferocity of her lovemaking. I summoned my will and broke from her embrace. It took me a moment to regain my witts, slow my breathing.

I looked over at Mark and managed to ask, "What about you, Mark? Don't you want to come and join us? This is what we talked about, what you said you wanted."

"I want to watch you with her," he said. Then looking at Lucy, he told her, "Lucy, sweetheart: you can take Lauren's robe of now."

"You mean like this?" she said, slipping the Kimono from my shoulders. I felt the material as a slither of silkiness that caressed my back and thighs as it fell to lie at my feet, where it settled and pooled.

Standing naked in front of her I felt so exposed, completely vulnerable. Even so, I liked how she looked me over, her eyes lingering, full of intensity, glinting like the faceted light from diamonds. Then she said, "You really are a perfect little doll-of-a-thing, aren't you, babe?"

She reached out for my breasts with both hands and placed a palm on each. My breasts are small, so her palms rested almost flat. She made a kind hum of appreciation and said, "Adorable! There's nothing to you, is there?" She lowered her head so her mouth was level with my chest and then she sucked each of my stiffened nipples softly, one after the other, flicking her tongue, occasionally biting gently.

The thrill was sublime. I gasped involuntarily — not for effect but through sheer sensual overload.

Mark said, "Lauren, I think you should show Lucy to our room."

Lucy was reluctant to break from me, began to kiss my lips with hunger. When she released me, I took her hand and led her from the lounge and up the narrow enclosed stairs. As we ascended, I felt the slush of my arousal seeping from me with each step up I took. I thought of her climbing the stairs behind me, her eyes level with my bare buttocks, her face mere inches away, and I wondered if she saw the patina of my need crystalising on my flesh as it wept from my cunt.

In our room, I led her to the foot of the bed — the bed where only twenty minutes ago I'd slept unaware of the sexual avalanche heading my way. I turned to her and looked up and into her eyes, scanning them for clues of her need. Still not sure, I reached out intending to loosen the buttons of her blouse, But her hand took my wrists and held them still.

"Not yet", she said, and then coaxed me onto the bed.

She laid me down and returned to the foot of the bed and stood looking down at me, "I want you to see me — all of me — before you touch me."

So I lay quite still on the bed and touched myself as I watched her slowly unbutton her blouse. Her bras quickly disposed of, I eyed her breasts with growing envy, covetous of their size, their firmness. I was desperate for her now, desperate to glide my hands over her bare skin. But I held myself in check, fingered myself, feeling the excitement build and build as I watched her wriggle out of her short denim skirt, pull down her panties; panties as glaring as powder commercials whites.

Just a slice of ginger-blonde fluff, a single stripe prettifying her puffy mound. I eyed the swell of her hips, and how narrow her waist appeared contrasted against them, its slightness emphasised again because of her sumptuous breasts. Such heavy flesh, the flesh a seventeen-century artist might render in glory. So creamy-hued, full of a well-toned liveliness, a rare quality in breasts so large.

She slowly rotated, gleefully exposing her nakedness. She turned again while sliding her hands sensually over her own body. I saw how my watching her performance excited her. But I had no patience, became desperate for her to hurry to me and squander all her pent-up arousal on me. I needed to stroke her body all over, to explore every crevice.

She came to me slowly with that arch smile of hers, a smile that suggested things I could never before have imagined but which I knew would soon come to enjoy. I was sure that whatever she had to teach me would become part of me.

And then we were in each other's arms again, but now I could relish the cool softness of her nakedness, her lush curves, her fragrant deliciousness, her overwhelming and all-encompassing womanliness. And it came to me right then just how stupid I had been all of my adult life, and how I had always needed a Lucy. How obtuse of me not to have known such a basic fact about my own nature.

I pressed myself against her, wanting her to absorb me utterly so I could lose myself among her opulent curves, dissolve into them until I was part of her. I rested my head against her astonishing breasts, delighted by their plumpness, their baby softness. The sensation against my cheek incited me to lick and bite her flesh, and she responded with yelps of delight. Again I inhaled her warmth and then let my tongue roam. I licked her everywhere while she stroked my hair and whispered her appreciation, whispered how my slightness pleased her. She inhaled me, said how much she loved how I smelled. But I wore no perfume, it was just the infused fragrance of my recently washed hair, and opulent soap traces that lingered on my skin.

I arranged myself to look into her eyes, and she took my face in her cupped palms, pinioning my cheeks and tilting my head back to receive her kiss. Her lips like bruised soft fruit almost spoiled, her tongue erupting between tacky lips. A void filled. Our saliva copiously mingling caused me to gulp, and then her kissing and licking her way across my face, down over my chin, neck. And all the time, my head held firm by her implacable palms.

And then she released her hold of me, and her lips travelled down over my breasts, belly, abdomen, pubes, following in the wake of her cushioning breasts sliding over my boyish chest and down.

She positioned my legs just so, arched and spread them before she pushed her breast against my groin and eased her palms beneath my hips and let her fingers explore the crevice of my rump. Then her head sliding down further, kissing all the way so that her face settled between my thighs. I drew up my knees and squeezed my inner thighs to pincer her cheeks, forming a clamp from which there was to be no escape until she had completed me.

Her tongue circled, repeatedly trying to pinpoint my clit. She parted my labia and studied me, made a tentative pass with her tongue before settling down to complete me. And as she did, she pressed her hard, smooth chin into my cum-slick cunt. And when she sensed how I oozed for her, how she stirred my need, her passion became stoked too, and her tongue's oscillations became impossible to understand. She left no spot of my sex unacknowledged while her palms appropriated my buttocks, pulling down at me so that the fudge of my butt-flesh cushioned her throat. Then her chin . . . Almost. I gave pushback in an attempt to draw her further into me. But that was impossible, and I grew ever more desperate to be entered, filled.

Her fingers returned and began to pry, slowly vanished as if I were quicksand. Her nails inside me, three red topped digits that grated tissue as my muscles closed around them. I feared she might damage me, and for a moment my thoughts attended to their deepening twists. But I soon understood the care with which they worked me, and I relaxed and relished it all. And then her knuckles passed into me, went deeper — to the wrist.

"I've always wanted to do this, babe. You are so tight. Am I hurting you?" She almost whispered it. Then a voice all husky. "Oh, babe. I wish I had a cock."

I wished that too.

Her hand gently withdrew so that only the tips of her fingers remained, and back into me again. Repeat.

And from the depths of my sensuous abandon, I imagined I heard the chime of our doorbell.

Then again. The doorbell. Really?

I surfaced fast from a deep place, drawn to the surface and reality by chimes that soon became an insistent rapping. It will wake the street, I thought, and then I heard the fall of Mark's tread as he hurried from the room, the thuds of his reckless race down the stairs.

Lucy extracted her hand and eased herself up the bed. She placed her cum-soaked palm against my cheek. "Taste it," she said.

I turned my head and found her hand, gingerly tasted the icky fruits of her trawl. She rotated her hand to show every part slick with my own cum; fingers, knuckles, and even her wrist. I pushed out my tongue and fed, savouring what she offered, trying to recall the flavour, name what it reminded me of. There was a slight metallic tang. I thought of lightly poached salmon.

She pressed her mouth to my lips, greedy for the traces of myself, the essence she had harvested deep from within me, brought forth for me to sample. Then she was gone again, her head back between my legs, her tongue determined to finish me.

Then a bump-bump-bump of feet returning up the stairs.

Voices. Mark's — and someone else too. Male, I think. Yes. And a girl with him, her giddy laughter closer now. More voices, the downstairs echoing with chatter and laughter. Louder all the time. Doors opening and banging shut. How many were there?

The bedroom door opened and people entered. I tried to comprehend, but I was tottering on the precipice of orgasm, the ultimate distraction. One, two, three people: Mark, two other men, and then two more women — much older than me. One was Clare, the receptionist at the fitness club. She had good bones, a beauty that would last another decade. And I knew the other face too, but not her name or where I knew her from. Both now watched the debacle that began unfolding upon and around my bed. They sipped from glasses and waited silently for the next scene to commence.

I tried to understand what meaning these new arrivals brought to the circus-ring that was now my bed, but I could not organise my thoughts because Lucy's tongue was threshing my clit. I was poised on the brink of an absolute, mind unravelling orgasm. Her chin once again pressed into my cunt, which was a goo of cum and saliva. I felt it trickling down, a nascent rivulet seeking the crack of my butt.

I looked at my visitors but did not comprehend. Was I dying? Had people come to say their goodbyes, friends and family gathering around. I looked at Mark and saw him smiling. All I wanted was for him to fuck me.

"Fuck me, Mark. I want you to fuck me," I called out.

But Mark did not fuck me. While I continued to look into his eyes, the foot of the mattress went down as the arrived male positioned himself. He was naked, his erection straining for me. And just at that moment, from downstairs came a roar of many people laughing above the background drone of music. People were partying.

Lucy eased herself aside as the man moved up the bed and quickly positioned himself between my spread legs. He loomed over me, and I saw his face, and my blood froze in my veins.

It was Rob — Mark's younger brother, who was the same age as me. And I thought, did I want this? Rob, for Christ's sake!

Maybe not, but to hell with family consequences. It was a cock and I wanted it inside me. In that moment of exquisite need, any cock would have done: Mark, Rob, Tom, Dick, or fucking Harry.

So I prepared, adjusted myself for Rob. And then I heard the sing-song of a girlish voice rising up the stairs, calling our, "Rob! Are you up there?"

And then her entering the room and the sweet cadence of her greeting, saying, Hi, guys." It took me a moment to accept who it was. What is that first stage once you've received your diagnosis? Denial?

I kept saying to myself that it couldn't be her. But it was her: Kath, Rob's girlfriend. Even as Rob's cock began to push into me, I turned to her. I wanted to see her with my own eyes. And there they were, her wide hazel eyes staring at me as if I were a sideshow freak.

All I could think is, what will she think of me. Oh-fuck, it's Kath. I repeated her name to myself, " Kath. Kath. Kath's watching me being fucked by her fella." Darling Kath, always so precious, so butter-wouldn't-melt. Kath, the girl I go to Yoga with on Wednesdays.

Her saying to Mark, "Oh-my-god, Mark! I know you always said she would, but . . . Jeeez!" She just stared and stared as I shook from the pounding her boyfriend inflicted on me. Her voice full of disbelief, "Oh Jesus, just look at her. She's mad for it. Look at her eyes. Fucking-wild!"

She came and knelt at the bedside by my head, just as Rob went up on straightened arms, positioning himself so his cock could gore my cunt from a slightly fresh angle. I let out a guttural, almost masculine moan. But I was oh-so-thankful to have a man's hard cock inside me.

Kath's face up close, her breath warm on my cheek as she said, "God, Lauren. Rob has always wanted to fuck you. What a little slut you really are. We're going to be such good friends from now on. Just you wait and see."

Then she was gone from sight as Lucy's legs straddle my head. All I could do was look up and watch Lucy's buttocks and cunt descending onto my face. All that soft, smooth pale flesh fell on me in an instant; isolated me from everyone. Her flesh covered my nose and mouth, so much so that I feared I would suffocate. I managed to get my hands beneath her to support her, to steady her as she rubbed her cunt against my chin and lips.

And all the while Rob fucked me at a steadily mounting pace, I sensed his delight in having me, and I wondered how long he had wanted this. His hands under my buttocks, his fingers between my cheeks. Ouch! A single finger jabbed up my arse.

And as he wormed that one finger, I felt his cock emptying into me in long, convulsive shudders, and I continued to undulate my hips beneath him until he was done.

But what good had his cock done me? None. My need continued to roar.

When Rob moved from me, and off the bed, I was able to attend to Lucy. Her buttocks and cunt repeatedly passed across my face. I had to force myself to concentrate. She was so wet, her cunt lips like two slices of peach in light syrup, slick and viscous. She rubbed her herself over my nose like a bitch scratching an itch. Over my mouth and chin, she slid. I stuck out my tongue and let the puff of her labia to settle over it.

At last, she was still, and I licked her like dipping for dregs in ice cream cones. She was silky-whip, and I delved deep, and then back to her clit. Subtle at first, the rumble of her approaching orgasm. I sensed it within her like a person on shore intuits an impending storm out in the Atlantic. She moaned loud, a plea for me to focus and understand her need. So I pulled her hard onto me, nibbled her clit and lapped and sucked, swallowing all the time. Her cunt and my mouth formed a seal inside which my tongue gyrated and curled.

When she cum her dead weight settled on me, but I was not strong enough to support her, so my face became enfolded in her flesh, my nose lodged between her arse-crack. She began to wriggle again, trying to prolong the duration of the waves of pleasure that rippled through her. I could feel how powerfully her orgasm raced through her nerves, how it caused the muscles of her abdomen to contract and spasm. The sounds of her cries were guttural, and they echoed through the cavity of her chest.

And then she slid over me longways, her face against mine, her body settling on me like heavy bedding, and we kissed deeply. Another male moved onto the bed beside me. Lucy gave him space. Once standing, she leaned back to me and thanked me with words and a sweet farewell kiss.

And even though I did not know him at all, when Lucy had slipped away, I took the man into my arms as if he were a long-lost lover. He was just a guy from the pub, a friend of Rob and Kath's, a bloke whose luck was in. He was a big guy. Six-two, I'd say. His body, his muscle, flesh and bone, came to me like a landslide and engulfed me.

But he was so sweet. "Hi," he said sheepishly as positioned himself to look down on me. "I'm Pearce. Lauren, isn't it?"

He started to kiss me. How different to Lucy's were his kisses? Demanding more than I could offer, his tongue filled my mouth and gave no quarter.

He did not hold me, or caress me. Before he fucked me, his hand went down and rubbed my clit as if it were something made of brass that needed buffing. His uber-masculinity, his certainty, and his skill astounded me. I was with him only two minutes and I cum. Even before my orgasm subsided, he rubbed his fervid cock between my legs — slowly, up and down — before penetrating me. And then with one brusque push, he filled me — and then it was out again. Then he pushed his cock up against my arse, and I tried to twist from him but his weight was a foundation, and I was set fast beneath him against the mattress. But then it was okay again, and his cock was where I wanted it to be. And even though I was sloppy and slick from all Rob's cum and Lucy's saliva, the sensation of him parting my delicate tissues was an exquisite trauma. He was enormous.