The charm of Leyla had acted on me, strangely. Strangely because she was so young, I who had preferred until then women of my age or even more mature, not necessarily from my milieu. I had discovered a young woman whose astonishing maturity in all things had surprised me, as well as her freshness, adventurous and even greedy.
Her three-month internship would end in a few weeks and between the upcoming vacations and her return to campus in the fall, our meetings were limited.
We were still far from having plans; I only wanted to spend a few more evenings with her and our message exchanges were unequivocal as to her sharing this desire. Between social and family obligations, we had not found a day or an evening to see each other again.
We were obviously careful not to let our new relationship be known at the office, avoiding contact and signs of connivance except for professional reasons. Of course, we sometimes met around the cafeteria with the necessary modesty.
The last weekend Leyla had gone to the country to visit friends, a meeting that had been fixed for a long time, and I was left alone with my desires and my desire for more of her. I hesitated to signal a friend with whom I had episodic sexual relations; tireless, Blanche, that was her name, was ready for anything! She loved women as much as men and our understanding under the sheets was intense. The heat of the summer that was beginning, the images of Leyla that came back obsessively, got the better of me!
I called her on Friday evening without success. To take up the cult line of "Sophie" in L'Arnacoeur, "I had ants in my pussy".
I could have gone to a girl's bar, I knew a number of them in Paris, or gone to bed, not wisely!
Exhausted from my week, my bed held out its arms to me. I scattered some of my lonely friends. It will not have escaped you, my little hole was a source of pleasure; I introduced a plug into it and once installed, I went to get used to its presence and simply because I liked to feel filled thus.
I chose the one that would also accompany me tonight, a dildo of reasonable size. Lying down, legs raised, I spread an already abundant cyprine, my fingers were agitating on my button; I decided to make my pleasure last. To slow down, to caress itself by small light touches. I took hold of the plug and gently moved it in and out until I felt myself opening up. My clit was hardening. I paused to bring my fingers to my mouth, I wished so much that this secretion was Leyla's.
The telephone rang; I glanced at the screen where "Blanche" was displayed.
Wet fingers I picked up.
"Hello dear, I'm at a party... boring. Are you alone?"
"Hello, thanks for calling me back. Yes, I'm alone, well almost."
She laughed.
"Who is almost?"
"Guess who?"
"Ah, you big slut, you're all set then?"
When it came to sex, Blanche didn't need much explanation.
"You could say that.
"Are you sending me a picture to turn me on?"
"You're a big slut too!"
"You know that, that's why we love each other, right?"
"And yes, I send you a picture.
I raised my thighs and placed my smartphone in the right position. Check, plug well visible as was the wet shine of my pussy captured by the flash.
"Done!"
"Hummm, all that's missing is my mouth!"
"I can confirm that."
"Did you get out your clamps and swift?"
Without being really submissive, Blanche had masochistic tendencies and liked me to "abuse" her a little. I was always surprised by the strength of the orgasms that spanking and stretching could trigger in her.
A business lawyer, Blanche, like many of us, had a secret garden in which she liked to evacuate anxiety and stress; she had confessed to me that our games acted like therapy.
"They're waiting for you!"
"I'll be there in 20 minutes; haven't the codes changed?"
"The same. Kisses."
When Blanche rang the bell, I simply put on a short tank top and opened the door.
Long fiery kiss in the entrance; always direct, Blanche passed her hand between my buttocks to check what she had seen on the photo.
"Your buttocks are very welcoming!
After advancing her hand further she could only add
"Your pussy too.
"Come on, I really want to.
Blanche followed me into the room and had already removed her dress by the time she got to the bed. I took charge of sliding her panties off to see that my desire was shared.
Our hands, agitated in our respective intimacies, joined then in a long kiss, tasting each one of the fingers of the other. Dark-haired with a matte complexion, Blanche "wore" an intimate musky perfume that made me capsize.
I plunged between her thighs, my sex put on her mouth. It is she who gave me the clamps which were in evidence on the bed. I put them on each of her lips and began by shaking them from right to left and up and down before taking them. Connected by a link, I could modulate the stretching of her pussy with one finger.
My mouth, my tongue went back and forth along her vulva; collecting her divine juice! Her caress was soft and enveloping; my desire already advanced, I felt the pleasure rise, mine and hers.
I accelerated the movements of my tongue.
"Pull harder"
His pinched lips stretched under the traction. A scream!
"Fuck, I'm cumming, again, I'm cumming...."
I went with her, intensely too.
I gently removed the clamps, massaged her sore lips, Blanche, still smiling offered remained lying.
She turned to me.
"Will you take me?"
Kissing her, caressing her breasts, she heard me say "Yes, everywhere."
We made love until late that night and Blanche fell asleep in my arms, both of us in that state of misty fatigue, that of bodies full of pleasure.
Blanche got up first and brought a large steaming pot of tea and two beautiful Minton cups that I had brought back from a London flea market. She placed the tray at the foot of the bed and filled the cups. Sitting down, the hot beverage as always brought me back to life, into the atmosphere somehow. With her cup in hand, Blanche stood up, walked around the bed and lifted the sheets; there, kneeling, she opened my lips to put her mouth on them.
"Hmmm, you smell like love my dear.
"I suppose you do too.
"You'll see a little later.
Now lying down, I could only guess at her gestures. She had withdrawn her mouth and suddenly I felt it burning on my mucous membranes! A mouthful of hot tea in my mouth, Blanche, put it tightly on my pussy, made turn her tongue on my clit; the hot liquid amplified the pleasure of this caress. When the tea had reached the temperature of her mouth, she withdrew, took another sip and started again. I liked her so fertile imagination on the things of the love.
She waited until she felt I was ready to cum before she came and squatted on top of me.
"So, do I feel love too?
"Oh yes, but you know that I like your smell.
She pressed herself on my mouth until we had that morning orgasm.
Blanche left at about 11:00 am; she had to change before meeting her sisters for lunch.
Leyla
I was happy to leave for the countryside, I was on this train that took me to the Perche. I liked this house where I was going, my childhood friend's house. We had known each other since kindergarten and Charlotte was the only one I still saw among my friends at the time. She wasn't very beautiful or talented, but I loved her joie de vivre and she was so funny. When I thought of her, I could only think of memories of laughter. We had always understood each other halfway; she was one of those precious friends. And then I adored her parents, her mother a beautiful woman (I sometimes thought of her during my solitary pleasures) classic was attentive and always listening. She had helped me and advised me when as a teenager it was difficult to turn to my parents. It was from her father that Charlotte had inherited her sense of humor; he always had this slightly serious and almost severe air that quickly disappeared as soon as the conversation started. It was like a second family to me.
The weather was nice, the pool would be open and, surrounded by neighboring families who knew each other, there would probably be people around in the afternoons to swim and chat.
Of course, I was also thinking about Marianne. I had conflicting feelings; there was the discovery of new pleasures and the intensity, quite simply, of this time spent together. It's true that at 18 I hadn't had many love affairs either. Maybe that was all it was; an experienced girl who had made love to me divinely.
As I unwound this thought I knew I was lying to myself. Marianne was lively and a bit whimsical and she exuded a charm, a real charm that I was sensitive to. Yes, that's right, I remember that first night when we had a late drink. It was as if she was piercing me naked but with kindness. Her frankness surprised me but on reflection I'm not sure she did it to attract me (I hadn't admitted anything about my adventures with girls); she probably just wanted to warn me that she was who she was leaving me the choice to withdraw. As with a long-time friend, I had answered her when she had talked to me about girls. There had been those two brushes, her hand on mine and that goodbye kiss on the corner of my mouth; if she had known how wet I was!
Other feelings collided, I didn't really feel like a lesbian. Certainly I liked women but men were not indifferent to me either. I was there of my thoughts, rather rational finally.
However, there was one thing that was hidden: the opening of the drawer.
If I had confessed my little punishments to him, I had not gone so far as to say that I needed to submit. Felt from my awakening as a woman. These scenes which were repeated, paraded during my solitary pleasures. What to do other than to be afraid and ashamed of these desires when you are my age.
And this drawer which jumped to my face, the calm explanation of Marianne, my desire, this need to obey, to undergo that I carried in me returned.
No, I wasn't ready; I would tell her. I already knew that I would not resist for long.
My train was coming, Charlotte was on the platform.
To be continued!
A very nice evening !
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