Oct 182016
 

*This was written by Atargatis. When I saw the mermaid prompt, I realized I had a gifted mermaid friend who was also an amazing writer, and asked if she was interested. I think this is an amazing story.

By 19, I’d had no serious suitors, had never even kissed a boy. My only experiences were “practicing” with girl friends in the dead of the night. I’d given up hope of finding a woman willing to be different in our small town, willing to run away with me. So I found solace in wandering the cliffs by the sea. It was one overcast day that I heard singing from the rocky shore below. I carefully lowered myself down to the rocks.

Her long, pale green hair hung in gentle waves upon her breasts. Her skin was pale and seemed to glow with light reflected off the water. Her lips were plump and the pale pink of the inside of a shell, and they matched perfectly the soft nipple peeking through her hair. Her breasts were larger than my own, and round and perfect. Her slim waist flowed into the swell of her hips, and it was there the scales began. They were darker than her hair, and gleamed like fish scales. They ended in a paddle like tail that trailed in the water.

She was the source of the music. Her voice was high and light, and she idly combed her hair.

I climbed over the rocks to get closer, trying to keep quiet so I didn’t startle her. My heart was thumping in my chest and my stomach swirled with nerves and arousal at the sight of her. I was about five feet away when a stone turned under my foot and she turned to face me.

Her eyes were large and black in her delicate face. Her perfect mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She lowered the comb and smiled at me. “Usually men are drawn to my song. You must be a special woman.” I blushed and her smile widened, revealing pearl-white teeth. “Would you like a kiss?”

I nodded and beckoned me toward her with one long-fingered hair. Her lips met mine and they were warm and smooth and tasted like saltwater taffy. Her hand rose to my cheek, slid back to cradle my neck and deepen the kiss, her tongue stroking skillfully against mine. When we parted, her cheeks were flushed as pink as her lips. “Let’s go somewhere.”

She took my palm in hers and rose to feet that had replaced the tail. She guided me behind her as she easily strode over the rocks, leading me up the cliff once more and to a ruin. I followed her in a dreamlike state, taking in her long, bare legs and firm, round ass. As we crossed the threshold into the crumbling building, she turned toward me once again and let go of my hand. Our lips met and I wound my hands in her soft hair, traipsed them down over her delicate shoulders, running down her ribs and settling just under her full breasts. The heat of them beat down on the back of my hands.

We lowered to our knees and she gently pushed me down onto my back, pulling out of the kiss to lift my shirt as we readjusted. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured before taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

Her body was now flush against mine, a leg sliding between mine and working my skirt up. I cried out and held onto her shoulders as she nibbled, kissed, sucked, licked my breasts, my eyes shut tight. It took a moment for me to register that she’d stopped. She was holding herself over me and staring down with those large back eyes.

“I have never lain with a woman,” she admit. “I am not certain how it works.”

So I guided her down to her back to replace me, and laid my palms against her perfect breasts, returning the kisses she’d laid on mine. And my kisses continued down to her navel, where I gently licked, and down to her rounded hips, which I nibbled. The sounds each of my attentions evoked was more erotic than all my fantasies. Her moans were soft and breathy, and her scent when I reached the cleft between her legs smelled musky and feminine.

The curls were darker than her hair above, almost a murky green, strange. I laid a hesitant kiss atop them. She was on her elbows now, gazing down at me, her dark eyes hooded. I slid my hands between her thighs and parted them, groaning at the wetness between them. Her head tipped back as I brought my fingers to tease her entrance. Finally, I lowered my mouth to the nub right between her lower lips, and sucked.

As my fingers entered her and began gently pumping her core in time with the licking and sucking of my time, her moans grew into frantic cries. One hand caught tendrils of my hair while her other twisted a pink nipple. Her hips ground against my face and I felt as though I was riding a wave as she came, more juice flooding between her thighs.

As she caught her heaving breath, she laughed, palmed my cheeks to guide me to her mouth, and kissed me again. And then she rolled me over with a mischievous grin, easing down my body.

The rest of the night was a sticky, sweaty, beautiful mess of breasts and fingers and tongues. I fell asleep on her soft chest while she stroked my hair.

And I woke at first light, cold and alone.
Wicked Wednesday

Aug 302015
 

Masturbation Monday: Week 52Let me tell you why this is hot:

It is hot because she is so spread open and exposed (we’ll call her Exposed). It is hot because the other woman (we’ll call her Other) has a hand on her thigh above the knee – a great place to hold open Exposed’s leg does she decide to close it when the sensations become overwhelming (a reaction I have). Other is focused on Exposed’s body, something I sincerely appreciate when a lover does, being fully in the present with just this moment and this gorgeous body beside her.

Other’s fingers are in a motion that would tease me, especially if after an orgasm already, but not please me. My chest would rise and fall like Exposed’s as I took great heaving breaths to deal with the sensations flooding my body, tightening my core and making my sex clench in anticipation.

This is hot because this is a moment that not only can I relate to, but I can easily put myself in.

This is the stuff of masturbation material.

 Posted by at 6:27 am
Jun 232014
 

As I sat next to her, I thought how she still looked smoking hot. The last time I saw her we were in college together, dated a few months. She was my experimental stage, I would later say. A fireball, with red hair to match. A quick temper, impulsive nature, tiger in bed, daring and adventurous. She made me feel alive when the pedantic drivel became too much.

“Veronica, how nice to see you,” I exclaimed. She put down her glass (champagne?) and her blue eyes turned to me. I always felt so plain next to her. Mousy, brown hair and eyes, far too short and thick. I always thought the boys flirted with me to get to her. She used to tell me how sexy I was, curvy; how my breasts drew her gaze and curved into a waist and back out to hips. She wanted to hold onto my hips and muffle her mouth against my intimate curls, lick and stroke with her tongue. All this went through her head before she looked up at my face, she used to say.

“Charlotte,” she greeted in remembrance. I was half afraid she wouldn’t remember me. She looked up as the last passenger boarded and a flight attendant shut the door. “Get my friend Charlotte some champagne, love. Thank you.” She flashed the woman a smile.

“A friend of yours?”

“Coworker.”

And with that opening we discussed our jobs, catching up from the crazy days of college. She ordered glass after glass and I supposed working for the airline got her certain perks; as for myself, I could only drink two before feeling a sense of motion sickness.

She ordered a blanket and tucked it over our laps. “Nice and cozy. Married?”

I wanted to deny, for some crazy reason, the relationship that I had formed and committed to. I wanted us both to be single and fly away to some distant, exotic land and feast on each other with the sweetest of fruits and wines. I stared at her lips, shook my head a little, and responded, “no, not yet. About to be. Flying to meet up with my friends for a bachelorette party.”

“Those are amazing,” she said, smiling. Her hand reached down between us and took my hand. I was afraid I would start sweating and she would be able to feel it soon. “Never want to marry, what a shitty ass, impractical concept of monogamy for life. But I sure do appreciate the parties.”

“So you’re not married,” we were looking into each other eyes, her perfumed breath smelled so damn good, I resisted the urge to kiss her, “in a relationship then? Several?”

She laughed, and her hand let go of mine. She leaned a little closer to me, nothing that didn’t appear as old friends chatting. I caught myself at the thought and cringed to think that I still cared how things looked. “Not a one, not right now. Or at least,” I felt her hand on my thigh beneath the blanket, but above my skirt, “none that are serious.”

I gulped. “Veron-”

She placed a delicate, long finger on my lips, her nails well manicured and matching her lipstick. “Shh, you’re going to let your over-thinking take over, instead of just,” her voice a whisper, hand under the blanket slid to the inside of my knee and slowly glided up, the skirt material offered no resistance. “relaxing and enjoying yourself. And you know you always enjoyed yourself.”

Oh did I ever! No man had ever made me orgasm as many times as this woman. The skill she possessed was awe-inspiring and slightly unnerving. “Oh,” I panted, as a finger curled and traced the outline of one my lips through my lace underwear. “O-okay,” I muttered. Yes, yes, yes, my mind cried. The finger continued to explore the outside of lace and pulled back. I leaned back a little, as much as the first class seat would allow-which was a fair amount more than I was used to at least. Her fingers pulled the lace to the side, a single finger followed up and down the plump lip, her gaze steady on my own. I looked away, around, to see if anyone was watching. The people across from us were asleep, the other people I could see had in headsets and were watching the movie. No one was paying us any attention. Her finger traced the crevice, gossamer of touches, such a tease. I arched my hips a little, to give her more access or to press more firmly against her finger, I wasn’t sure what.

She chuckled and I again found myself lost in her vibrant eyes. “You always were impatient,” she purred, and the finger continued to stroke up and down, not parting the lips, just the tip feeling the obvious moisture and spreading it up and down. “Ask me.”

“Please,” I whispered, my barely-there voice shaky, “please please me.”

Her finger dipped down into the moist center and withdrew, brushed up to my clit, circled lazily. I reminded myself to not arch up any further, I didn’t want anything being obvious. “I never could say no to you,” she said softly. Her finger moved back and dipped, up and looped, the circle becoming firmer and more focused on my hardened button. I caught my breath; I tried to not let any noise happen. A strand of curly red hair floated in front of her shoulder when she broke my gaze and looked towards my lap. “So wet,” her finger got more insistent, more rhythmical. She inserted two fingers and curled, the angle couldn’t have been easy for her, but she rubbed such a glorious place before transitioning back to my clit, strummed. I tried not to writhe; I tried to be silent; I shut my eyes and focused on her fingers playing me like an instrument, the chair so unforgiving in not allowing her full access, the blanket almost a barrier that kept her arm down, rather than the up that I wanted if she could plummet her fingers and bend and rock them in and out, hitting my clit all the while….

I came, a sharp intake of breath and a sigh.

Her fingers slowed dawdled, spread my damp stickiness on my lips and inner thighs before she moved away. I opened my eyes – and didn’t look at her at first, but glanced around. Her friend/coworker looked at me, stood in front by the cart, and smiled and winked. I felt myself blush.

“Oh Charlotte, some things just don’t change,” Veronica stated, sounded disappointed.

My face became more red than her hair.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

 Posted by at 8:00 am
Apr 162014
 

It didn’t smell any different than she had remembered. Of course, the fear probably tainted the taste of freedom in the air. After 20 years she was mere minutes away from being done with this farce. These were dangerous times. The slightest slip on her end and the world could come crashing down around her head. She’d hate to see how these men would react.

Such prideful beasts, men. For most of her life Lily had wondered what on earth they were useful for besides carrying heavy things, drinking all the moonshine, and harassing all the well dressed ladies on the boardwalk. Lord knows things had been running fine on their small ranch, with or without one of the smelly brutes around.

Those were different days, and a different era. The streets may now have pavement, but they sure still carried a lot of stupid men.

“Now Lon, you don’t get into any trouble. Just wait right here, Deputy Mazer has one more form he needs your mark on”

Just released from prison after 20 years and they’re still trying to tell her to be a good boy.

BOY.

When Lily Price (or “Lon” as it were) had been locked up, a devil of a story had been concocted to keep her alive. That story involved passing her off as a young boy to save her from the noose. 20 years of being thankful for an almost nonexistent bosom later and here “she” was, finally able to be a woman. $5 tucked in her pocket and a head full of rambling ideas rattling around her head were her only baggage on the way into the little town not far from the prison.

It’s a miracle how meandering thoughts about womanhood can suddenly bring forth disgust at the nearly 20 years of accumulated, concealing dirt. Lily decided the first thing she needed was clean, and she needed it in a hurry. Spotting a sign that said bathhouse, painted with a bright, scantily clad women on it, Lily hurried inside. The scent of sweet perfume hung heavy in the steamy air as she stepped in from the sunny street, and Lily felt herself wilt. A woman in gauzy clothes was suddenly before her, a vision of beautiful eyes disguised behind cheap paint. What caught Lily’s attention though, was the intelligence. Still dressed in the male rags she was released in, Lily was taken aback when the mysterious eyes dipped in closer and the cool sweet tones of this woman softly sighed “What a story you must have my lady, come with me and we will restore you to your delightful beauty.”

Lily wasn’t sure if this was campy talk, reserved for customer, or if she were special. All she knew was that someone in the world knew she was a woman, and she wasn’t thrown right back in jail yet. Lily was led into a large empty bath room. Steam made clouds in the streamers of sunlight falling from the high open ceiling. Soft smooth hands, the softest Lily had ever felt, slid her clothes to the floor, even the binding which was never removed from her breasts all those long years in prison. Gooseflesh rose upon her skin with each feathery touch. Her body melting with each moment spent in that heavenly room. The water stung as it touched the marks where her bindings had been, but those stings were soothed away with gentle fingers as the attendant massaged her breasts from behind the tub. The beautiful woman was humming gently and Lily let he mind float with the soap bubble on the water.

During these musings Lily couldn’t keep thoughts of those times in prison away. The strangest, most commonplace of these continued to appear without her volition. There was an inmate Sam, so strong, and handsome, even his manners were appealing. With the woman caressing her slick skin Lily got lost in thoughts of Sam, sweat glistening on his brow, water slowly cascading down the hard length of him in the shower when she chanced upon him. Never before had she let thoughts such as these take over, but take over they did.

Suddenly her fingertips, grazing her temple were held in the soft slick grip of the woman. As they made eye contact, the woman guided Lily’s fingertips below the line of water lapsing at her navel, and down to the very heat of her. “Now tell me of this man… but not with your words, I want to see.”

Lily’s eyes went wide at this bequest, but the deep mystery of the beautiful woman before her and the sensations coursing through her fingertips and electrifying the rest of her body had Lily behaving. She bit her lip as her long, thin fingers made smooth circles under the water. Her body temperature rose as thoughts of Sam and the feelings she was evoking rose up and took over her. She bit her lip and tossed her head back to be cradled by the woman who then cupped her cheeks and kissed her lips and joined her on this release of 20 years of who knows what, to find HER. Just hours after leaving prison as a man, with her climax, Lily discovered the infinite delights of being a woman.

 Posted by at 2:01 pm
Jan 092013
 

I can appreciate a beautiful woman. The soft skin, gorgeous curves, delicate shape. I am able to look at a woman and appreciate the beauty, like art. I’ve never been “attracted” to them though.

 I’ve always been a curious person. If I haven’t done it, I want to. So I’ve always said that one day I wanted to have a threesome with another woman. The problem is I don’t like sharing my toys so I’m a bit possessive about my men. Sure, a casual one would work but I’d imagine it’s harder to find a man and a woman in the same night. For years this meant I just talked a big game.

At my new job, during classes, I was teacher’s pet. Honestly, it’s not my fault I’m smart and a bit of an over achiever, but this resulted in the rest of the class being not quite endeared to me. Apparently they don’t believe you can be Ms. Prim and Proper at work then go home, go to the stripclub, drink and have sex all night. That just shows how little they knew. It got to a point where almost no one talked to me in that class until one time a girl invited me to a party she was throwing with other people from work. I went, even knowing I wasn’t considered one of the cool kids.

 As I arrived I met Ava out front. She was young, brass, and irreverent. She had the body of a goddess and the mouth of a sailor. She was drinking a bottle of red wine through a twisty straw… the whole bottle. Ava eyed me with keen interest, they all kind of watched me. I immediately made a strong drink and inquired as to whether anyone would like to do a shot of tequila with me. My coworkers looked astonished. After that first lick of salt, that first sting of cheap tequila and the gush of lime, I was accepted. Jokes were made, drinks were offered and body shots soon started. S, another of our coworkers showed up to the party a little late, but she was just as intoxicated as the rest of us. She immediately joined in with the exclamations of wonderment over how they never knew I was so cool, and the dirty jokes and the wit? Where had I been hiding all this? As our night continued the jokes became more sexual in nature, as tends to happen when you get a mixed group together for drinking and socializing. A friend of mine, with a pool, who hosted the best parties, called and said he had some male friends over but they were sadly lacking in females. He asked if I knew any ladies who would like to get naked in his pool. I jokingly extended the offer to the girls at the party and Ava and S immediately told me to grab my keys. We were going to cool off on this hot summer night.

As we arrived at the house I could see the effect these two gorgeous women with me had on the men present. Both tall, statuesque women with exotic looks and firm young curves, it was impossible not to stare. Drinks were quickly made and Ava and S did not hesitate to strip off their clothes and dive in the pool. I had frequently been naked in this pool before in front of these men so it was nothing for me to strip down and join. We were frolicking, splashing, drinking and playing. I couldn’t tell you how it started. The men were on the side of the pool and it was just the three of us still in. A joking fondle turned to a kiss, which turned into a sincere caress. A firm breast, a body slick no longer just with water but also now too with arousal. S and I both had one of Ava’s pert nipples in our mouths. My hand was caressing Ava’s satiny smooth entrance and S’s fingers were exploring me. Quickly Ava was moaning and had a firm grasp in my wet hair. Her mouth searched for mine hungrily. I couldn’t believe that somehow I was included in this erotic show with these two goddesses.

The men could hardly contain themselves while staring with avid interest at these three woman who were devouring each other in the pool. I put Ava up on the side of the pool. I had to taste her. This is always the part I was apprehensive of, but I quickly found I needn’t have been. Her taste was light, and the unique smell of her not unpleasant. S continued to play my body like a instrument. She knew just where to press, just where to rub. I could feel her breasts cool against my back as I continued to worship Ava with my mouth. I quickly brought Ava to release and then the places were turned. S smiled up at me as I parted my legs from the ledge of the pool. She was excited and knew it was my first time. Ava and S stared at me and had a dueling of their tongues, fingers darting here and there. Then suddenly the flick of S’s tongue was on my clitoris. I was startled and instantly gushing. With Ava behind S, staring at me while bringing S to her own peak, I quickly found release from the expert skill of S’s mouth. Soon we are all satiated, and langorous.

We laughed and continued on with our night as though nothing had happened, as though we hadn’t just put on the most erotic live show any of those men could’ve hoped to see. I was bewildered, and privileged to have been a part of that. I look back on the evening with pleasure. Not only had I had my threesome with another woman, I had it with two women who were almost impossibly beautiful. It was so different from anything that I had ever experienced in my life. Being with a woman is a whole different level than a man. They know what it feels like, it’s not searching or wondering. There is assurity in movement and action. I, however, still love men and can honestly say that although that night was pleasurable, women still don’t do it for me sexually. I’m attracted to masculinity and hard planes. The soft touch of a woman didn’t excite me the way a firm grasp of a man does. After that night, Ava and I went on to be best friends and there has never been a repeat. There has never been an awkward moment or desire to either. I’m lucky to have found her and lucky to have been in such capable hands for my exploration into being with another woman.

This post is my first Wicked Wednesday entry. Thanks for the inspiration Rebel!

 Posted by at 8:53 pm