Laura and I had been kind of friends for over two years, but it was only nine months ago that we became lovers. She was nineteen, five years younger than I was, and very beautiful, in an alternative sort of way. When we first met I had thought her wayward and immature; she was too much the teenager, always affecting whatever pose her friends required. She was studying dance and hoped to become professional one day. The hours she spent rehearsing her moves had left her body a minimal bundle of sinews and muscle. She did not quite make five-foot in bare feet; her small frame, short hair, delicate and pretty face gave her an elfin asexuality. Although in my fantasies I had often pictured making love to girls, none of my imaginary lovers looked anything like Laura. At that time, she was really not my type at all.
I first found myself giving more time to her during the months of her mother's battle with cancer. The final diagnosis had hit her hard; she and her mother were very close. Her father had died when she was a child so it had been just the two of them since she was six years old. She put her own career plans on hold and took time out from college and went to live back home in order to nurse her mum. We lived fifty miles apart and I tried to support Laura emotionally with phone calls, emails, and visits at the weekends. She coped alone during the day and Jason, her boyfriend would visit at weekends. It was six harrowing months for her as she endured the sight of her mother’s decline. And during that time she learned to hold at bay the emotional landslide that threatened to engulf her.
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I watched from a distance, as the carefree girl I knew became a caring and compassionate adult.
It was after her mother's death that we became close. We would sit late into the night and talk; she poured out her feelings to me and I listened and tried to understand. I would be available for her as she told me ofher past with her mum. I would hold her when her grief became too much. Over the weeks I became so fond of Laura. I would think of her continually and wish the days away, impatient for the weekend when I would be with her. I did not set out to seduce her, we fell in love and the sex followed.
Our first kiss happened on one such night. She had been talking of her mother and had wetness in her eyes. I had put my lips to her cheek to reassure her with a light kiss and had left my own cheek rest against hers. She had unexpectedly turned to me and our mouths had come together. It was a gentle tasting at first, and then we kissed with a need for each other that left me shaking. I can still remember the taste of her tears and the full electric reality of her tongue in my mouth. We broke off and I was embarrassed; I wondered if I had betrayed a trust and had taken advantage of her.
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But then I saw her eyes and I knew it was more than okay. We leaned into each other again and as we kissed I felt my own eyes fill with tears. We were gentle and lost to each other, there was no longer a world with time and space for us. We said things to each other with our lips and tongues that it was not possible to say with words. I laugh to myself when I think back to that kiss, the contrast of what I was feeling inside and how we must have looked, our faces wet and snotty, strands of my long dark hair adhering to hernose and lashes.
At that time, we were not single women. My partner and Laura’s were old friends from University, and we knew each other because of their friendship. Before, and then after Laura’s bereavement, we would spend most weekends at Laura and Jason’s. They shared a house in Manchester. We had always relished out visitsto them, it gave us the chance to see some city nightlife. Our home was in a rural area of Staffordshire, no clubs or trendy bars there.
On our nights out, Laura would try her best to put things behind her, attempting to regain some of her former fun-self. After, back at their flat, we two would stay up and talk. The guys having drank too much would go their beds long before us. Often it was dawn before we let each other get to bed; before we would part, we would kiss, neither wanting to release the other as we realised the night was ending.
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Then we would part and go up to our sleeping men. That is all, we only ever kissed.
And this was our problem, Jason was possessive of her. Most men love to think of their girl in bed with another girl, but not Jason. He was recklessly insecure. If ever he found out about Laura’s feeling towards me it would have hurt him so much. She did love him and as long as she was a good girl they were happy together. She had been very flirty a few years past but Jason' reaction to her natural sexiness had meant she’d had to find a place to keep that side of her self hidden away; at least when Jason was around.
Christmas had come and gone and Laura and Jason had decided to throw a house party for New Years Eve and to try and put last year’s sadness behind them. They sent invites to all their friends and everyone had promised to come. Tom and I had driven over in the afternoon to help with the food. By six o’clock that evening everything was prepared. The guys had arranged to pick up a friend from the railway station and were going to buy more drinks on the way back. I knew this was going to the only chance I would have to be alone with Laura for some time.
All afternoon Laura and I had worked in her small kitchen preparing the food.
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Our impatience for each other was a high voltage surging between us. Our exchanged glances hinted lascivious thoughts. We lingered close as we chopped and buttered bread, our bare shoulders touching, my breasts brushing her back as I squeezed by her in the cramped space. I would kiss her neck when it was safe or whisper some delight I had planned for her. We giggled a lot. .
Just before the men left to do their errand, I had gone upstairs to change for the evening and left Laura to add the final touches to the buffet table. I’d showered and was sitting on the edge of the bed in the guestroom wrapped in a bath-sheet. I was doing my nails when I heard her light footfall outside the door. She knocked, tried the handle, and finding it open came in.
“They’ve just gone,” she said as she sat beside me. She kissed me on the lips then stood up, I’ll just shower and be back soon. ”
“No, please don’t. We don’t have much time. I want to taste you now as you are.
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Don’t get clean. ”
I laughed, and she blushed. She said, "I'm a little sweaty, are you sure you don't mind?"
I let the towel fall from me as I stood up and took her head between my hands, looked into her eyes and told her I loved her. I felt her delicate hands crossing my bare shoulders. She was feeling my softness as she said, “I am sick with love for you Jinni. I don’t think I can I go on being away from you all week, week after week. Oh god, what am I going to do? Please make it better. ”
We kissed and I felt her need for me, it was like some freshly trapped animal in its cage.
I told her, “We’ll find a way to make it work; I’m sure. ” But I wasn’t sure. I could only see pain and tears ahead. “Let’s just enjoy this time we have now. ” I reassured her with my tongue and lips. She softened and became less intense, less needy; more sexual.
We stood holding each other.
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When I felt she was okay, I broke away and told her to undress. I had not seen her naked body before and I wanted to look her over from head to toe, to take in her form and anticipate touching and tasting her every inch. I lay on the bed as she took off her jeans, then her T-shirt and underwear. She was physically still a teenager, sweetly sylph-like.
As I watched her I wondered if, in a year or two, when she would be fully matured, whether she would cease to be the nymphet she now was, and would perhaps be fleshier and heavier set. But for now she still had a girlishness about her, small upturned breasts, and rosy fresh pink nipples, A hint of the muscular to her flat stomach, thin but shapely legs; her skin was clear and unblemished, her short hair strawberry-blond.
She made her way to come and join me; “Stop, I want to look at you; all of you: “Turn around. ” She did a lithe and graceful twirl for me.
“Slowly,” I said, trying not to grin, drawing the word out in emphasis. As she turned again, my eyes took in the arch of her back, her narrow, boyish buttocks and the way the bedside lamplight transformed her skin into an extraordinary ethereal hue; in the half-light, she looked like some fairy-creature from some in-between-realm. I could have watched her posing and turning for me for hours, she had a grace of movement that at times stunned me. I held up my arms to invite her to me. I was already wet as she lay down by my side.
As I enfolded her with my arms, my lust for her was mingled with emotions from deeper than sex. It was an overwhelming feminine urge to protect and care for her.
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I still thought her so vulnerable, I wanted to make her part of me, for us to become one. We would both be safe then.
I was at sea on a storm of emotions: a perfect storm. I let it take me to her and went about her with an urgency that took her by surprise. I sat her up and parted her legs, got close, and pushed my bottom against her pubic bone, I felt her course hairs against my buttocks, and our legs and arms were around each other as we kissed. Her mouth tasted metallic, there with a hint of something she had snacked on earlier while cooking. I tasted the day's sweat on her neck. Her hair was slightly greasy and the aroma of cooked pastry had found a home there. She was slightly shop soiled and visceral. I wanted to eat her. I chewed her bottom lip and licked her white teeth.
I felt her excitement increasing. She became animated, was nimble, quick, and light. Her small mouth was on my nipples. Her tongue flickering in and out, her teeth were nipping gently.
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I had told her that I loved to have my nipples bit hard and she now obliged, making me wince and shiver. She was a small playful animal. She pushed me on my back and her face was between my legs. Her teeth were in my hairs, chewing and nibbling, then down over my clit, further down licking my folds, her tong seeking access to me with darting probes. She was talented and her tongue explored deep into me, I could feel it exploring my opening, straining to enter deeper and then slurping my sap. I like to think she drank from me.
She licked my clit while her fingers went to the right place inside me. She knew what to do and my orgasm shook us both. She held on tight until I was still. I pulled her up to me and licked her lips, tasting myself on them as we kissed deep.
I lay her down and straddled her pelvis, my back to her face, and began to explore her sex while sitting across her. She was damp and very slightly sticky between the legs from her long hot day. I rubbed my palm about her plump lips, pressing hard. I wet my fingers from inside of her, then rubbing her, building up the pace, I could hear her breathing increasing behind me, and the noises she was making added to my own excitement. I loved that she loved what I was doing to her.
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When she had cum I could feel her stomach in spasms below me against my wet cunt and buttocks. I was aroused again now and had to have my mouth on her cunt. I pressed my face deep between her legs. The smell of her was strong, mixed in with her morning fragrance. She wrapped her legs around my head and giggled as I licked her. She squealed as she came a second time.
We were face to face again and spoke softly to each other. We looked into each other, kissing and smiling, teasing laughing, We remained wrapped around each other for the better part of an hour, then realised we would have to make a move and get ready. People would be arriving soon. Laura kissed me, thanked me, and went to shower. I dressed and applied make up. As I did I thought about the love we had made, the sweet things she had said to me, and about her sweet body and the smell of her sex mixed with her perfume. Already I wanted her again.
There would be another time. I was sure there would.
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