| Lesbian: Romantic: A New Image (1/3) |
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We’ve been together four years, Emma and I. Four years of laughter, friendship and a passion that has only grown more intense as we explored each other’s bodies and learned how to make each other feel good in bed. I want only to please her in every way, and each day Emma finds new ways to let her love wash over me: an unexpected kiss on the nape of the neck here, a suggestive e-mail there, a breakfast in bed when I’m feeling down, complete with a rose in a vase. I love her deeply, more deeply than I ever thought possible. Each day when I turn the corner on the street to our house, I smile to see her car in the driveway because it means I’m truly home with a loving welcome waiting for me just inside the front door. But today her car was not there. We are both teachers; I teach high school math and she is a college instructor. Her students adore her, and she spends a lot of her own time helping them out with their course work and personal lives. I figured she was busy with one of them and thought no more of it as I unlocked the front door and let myself in. It was a warm spring day and I headed to the shower to freshen up, get out of my skirt and blouse teaching uniform and pull on shorts and a T. I was just settling myself in the living room with a glass of iced tea and a mountain of papers to grade when I heard her key turn in the lock. She stood in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted by the bright sunshine behind her. I could smell her distinctive Gardenia perfume and felt a twinge in my lower abdomen. Then she stepped inside and I saw her clearly for the first time and gasped. “You like?” she asked with a mischievous smile. My Emma is beautiful, but she is very insecure about her body and so she dresses very conservatively. She has a womanly hour-glass figure with full breasts that beg to be caressed, large nipples that were meant to be sucked, a trim waist I love to encircle with my arm, and generous hips that draw me down to her hidden pleasures. But she has always resisted showing off her figure, preferring staid button down blouses and pleated skirts and overly large sweats that hide her figure. She thinks herself too plump; I’ve shown my appreciation for her beautiful body by kissing every inch of it with adoring lips. Still, she remained insecure and conservative. But not today. Today she stood before me a vision in a snug lime green sweater, three buttons opened to reveal a green and pink bustier that pushed her breasts up into a tantalizing cleavage and a short black discretely patterned A-line skirt. Her brown hair curled down to her shoulders. She was breathtakingly lovely, and I felt my nipples harden as I drank her in. “Well? Cat got your tongue?” Her blue eyes twinkled at me. My clit was throbbing as I got up from the sofa and went to her. I could feel my juices begin to run; she had me so wet I could barely stand it. I had to have her here and now or go crazy with desire. “No, the cat didn’t get my tongue, but you’re going to get my tongue really good |
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very well written
