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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} For Kylie (F/F)
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Date: Tue, 05 Jun 2007 01:10:01 -0400
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For Kylie
by Rachael

Codes: F/F

"Hey, it's getting late." Kylie smiled gently at me.

"Yeah." I closed my web browser quickly, before she could see
anything, and I felt her hands on my shoulders, rubbing me nice.

"What are you doing?" She asked, putting her pretty face next to mine,
looking at my open email, a little note I was supposedly writing to my
sister.

"Just catching up." I smiled at her. "I'll finish it in the morning."
I closed everything while Kylie held me, wrapping her arms around and
beneath my breasts.

I think she suspected something, but it was probably just my nerves. I
shut down the computer, patting her arm so Kylie would move and let me
up. It was late, for us anyway, a couple women approaching middle age,
whatever that was. I didn't feel middle aged, I felt...Old. Sometimes.

Kylie was thirty, she'd just turned the big three oh, and a loan
officer at Wells Fargo. She was tall and pretty, with short black hair
and hazel eyes. A wonderful body, and she looked great with the sort
of narrow hips and smallish breasts I'd always found attractive in
other women. She worried over her tummy, but there was nothing there
for her to complain about. It was still smooth and flat and I'd roll
my eyes with playful exasperation when I caught her frowning in the
mirror sometimes.

I was 31 and I'd just gotten tenure at the university. I'd been an
associate professor for two years, publishing like crazy and only when
I'd gotten an offer from my old prof at USC to join his department
there, had the university offered me full professorship. It was nice
to be desired.

Kylie desired me too; it was why she wouldn't sleep without me. I was
shorter than her, just 5'2", with my own black hair thick and long. I
had a softer body, rounded hips and large breasts, not overly so, but
for my petite size they looked big and still firm. I was cute with my
heart shaped face and almond eyes.

Even at my age, cute was the word, and I wondered how many years of
cuteness I had left in me before I became something else. I'd be a
handsome woman maybe, although that would be Kylie, more than me. She
was pretty and I was cute and we'd been friends since we were twenty
and lovers since we were twenty-five. We'd shared our fifth
anniversary together a month before, exchanging small gifts and soft
promises of our undying love.

She was naked already and ready for me and I'd let her undress me,
because she enjoyed giving me her attentions before we closed our
eyes. Kylie led me into our bed and beneath the sheets, arranging us
with soft words and kisses that I returned. I knew she needed me. It
was late, and we'd be up early in the morning, but she moved close and
I felt her hand stroking my bare thigh, her lips close to mine. We
were on our sides, facing each other and I ran my fingers cross her
hip and up to her ribs.

I moved my mouth to her breast, kissing her warm body, licking at her
soft nipple and coaxing it to harden for me. I sucked gently, while
Kylie cradled my head, and I pressed my hand between her smooth thighs
so that she lifted her leg for me, giving me all that I should have
desired. I could feel her sex, warm but not yet wet. I would make love
to her this way, mouthing Kylie's tits while I masturbated her. She
enjoyed the simplicity of it, I think, and I didn't mind.

At other times we'd do other things, oral sex, toys, the occasional
bondage games, but nothing dramatic. We were both rather vanilla in
our tastes and we fit together well. On those occasions when we'd go
out and hit the queer clubs, Kylie would play the butch to my femme,
and that was fun. But we did that less often now, being content to
leave the games to the younger girls, the single girls, for we were
very much married in our hearts.

My foot played with hers as I felt Kylie's sex open for me. Her thin
pussy lips beginning to grow damp and swollen as I played with them
softly. I loved her lips, I loved all of her. I pinched and rolled
them, ignoring her clit and giving her no penetration. It was a tease
that we both enjoyed and I took my time, washing her breast with my
mouth. We were never in hurry, not anymore, not like we'd been just a
few years before.

When we'd first moved in together Kylie and I were both a little
nervous. She'd been out of a broken relationship for over a year, and
I'd just come out of something...Unfriendly. I'd caught my girlfriend
cheating, in bed with another woman, and I hadn't forgiven her that.
When Kylie and I rediscovered each other we'd made love almost
violently, as if we were afraid it wouldn't last. There was no time,
just those few moments, and we tried to devour them before they
passed.

Now we were older, more confident and secure, and time moved, as it
should, but we didn't try to hold it quite so hard. We made love
slowly, savoring those moments together and prolonging them, but
knowing we'd have more. It wasn't necessarily better, but it certainly
wasn't worse, just different and there was no lost passion for our
sex. I did love her so, just holding her and being held.

I could feel her wetness across my fingers, just a little, just a
start and I used my teeth on her distended nipple, which had grown
long and hard for me. It made Kylie gasp and then giggle, the way she
does, sounding like a college sophomore again. She moved her hips,
pushing herself a fraction closer, telling me she could feel it
inside, starting to feel nice.

That was my cue and I brought my thumb to her clit, already stiff and
eager. I rubbed it carefully, just over the top and then around it,
feeling my way blindly while I cupped her humid sex. Kylie shifted a
little, turning away from me slightly and giving me her lower breast
and I kissed that one, feeling my face flushed and warm in her
embrace. She was stroking my hair, pulling it from my eyes, and
kissing the top of my head.

Kylie talked to me, whispering sweet nothings. When I took her nipple
between my pursed lips and tugged, she told me she loved me. When I
pinched her labia between my fingers, palming her clit and shaking her
pussy, she told me she was getting close. And I knew all of that
already and I giggled softly. I knew her body so well, what she wanted
and when.

There was no mystery to her anymore, and so perhaps that was what it
was, why I was doing what I was doing earlier. The only mystery, as I
approached maturity at last, was men. I'd never had one, not even a
kiss, a romantic kiss from a boy growing up. I'd been a lesbian since
birth, not a convert, not by choice or environment, but by nature. It
was what it was, and I'd never questioned it until recently.

Perhaps it was the desire to reproduce, to have a child. That's what
I'd blame it on if I were found out. And I was curious and aware of
some longing there, the small, almost indescribable apprehension that
I might...would...spend my life and leave it with nothing behind but
photographs to say I'd been here. The odd monologue collecting dust in
a high school textbook someplace, that would be my legacy to the human
race.

We'd discussed children of course; Kylie and I, soon after we'd
decided to commit ourselves to each other. At the time I hadn't wanted
any, nor had she, and so it had been a short discussion and I think
we'd both been relieved at that. And our decision wasn't based on the
idea of requiring some male component to complete the task, as it was
in some women we knew. Artificial insemination was acceptable enough;
we just didn't feel the need to look outside ourselves for happiness.
At least that was my opinion at the time. I'd assumed Kylie's reason
were similar.

But now...I didn't know what I was doing. Perhaps it was the thoughts,
the doubts that growing older brings when we look back at our lives.
I'd never tried to be with a man, that was the key. It wasn't as if
I'd had some small experience and decided it wasn't right for me, I'd
never tested my convictions, my sexuality. I'd never even considered
it, as I felt most happy when I could tell myself that I was above it
all. I wasn't a lesbian, I was just me. I was a woman, a sister and
daughter. I was a professor, and a friend and lover, all of those
things defining me far more than my sexual orientation ever could.

Was it true?

I lifted my mouth so that I could find Kylie's lips with mine and I
took her tongue eagerly. She was rocking herself against me now and
I'd slipped a finger inside her tight warm sex. I caressed that soft
and uneven flesh inside, enjoying the texture and shape that was hers
alone. I curled my finger to reach behind her clit, approaching from
beneath and pressing just...there. It brought her to move and laugh and
sometimes cry, when it was especially good, and I'd kiss her tears
away on those special occasions.

Kylie moaned softly, shivering and I was pulling the sheets away from
us while we kissed. It was hot now; our bodies flushed and damp, and
the cool midnight air was welcome as it washed over us. I turned my
hand, sliding my finger in and out, she was so wet, so soft and the
walls of her sex followed me closely, clasping and clutching weakly. I
added a second finger, working them inside Kylie slowly, letting her
push her pelvis to meet me, and sharing that sweet penetration.

I felt her mouth at my ear and I smiled, breathing across her cheek
while she kissed and then licked at my sensitive flesh. Kylie's teeth
found my ear lobe, biting me softly as her nipples pressed against
mine. I had some small ache in my wrist, with my hand tilted the way
it was, but it was such a tiny discomfort and worth the pleasure I was
giving her. I'd suffer much worse if her love demanded it. I'd give
her everything...Anything.

So why was I doing it? This thing, this betrayal, for it felt like
that, very much so. I'd opened an account with one of those web sites
that offered personal ads and matchmaking services. I'd listed myself
as a lesbian and bi-curious, being truthful in all ways. I was seeking
a couple, a man and woman, who were interested in getting together.
Just for drinks, perhaps more. The woman, the wife or girlfriend,
she'd be my crutch, or so I planned. The man would be my test.

I'd been on for less than a week and I had a large number of replies,
a lot of interest. I'd been sorting through them earlier, reading the
little biographies, the fantasies and comments. There were photos to
look at, mostly of the women, offering themselves to the camera shyly,
or more often boldly vulgar. But there were men too, many pictures of
cocks, erect and otherwise, which I skipped entirely.

The couples themselves interested me far more than any promises of
sexual adventure. I wasn't impressed by the beauty of the woman, or
the size of the man, which were most often displayed apart. I wanted
to see them together, the couple in a normal picture, sitting at a
picnic, or at a table smiling. Real people who were in love, that was
all. A husband and wife, young or old, it didn't matter so much, and
I'd begun to realize that it wasn't just a question of sex for me. If
I would do it with a man, if I could find some pleasure there beneath
a thrusting penis, it wasn't the real question. I wanted to observe
them, the two of them being intimate.

That was what I wanted to see, what I wanted to participate in. My
curiosity was beyond sex, it was the love I wanted to know about. Did
a married woman love her husband more than I could ever love Kylie?
Were there boundaries to love, limitations set by God or nature, or
even ourselves, which I'd never cross because I was gay? I didn't
think so; it seemed absurd and childish to think like that. So why the
doubt then? Why did I feel the need to test it?

I moved a little, slipping down so that I could kiss Kylie's stomach.
She was squeezing her thighs against me, getting close, and I worked
my fingers in and out of her quickly. She was going to cum for me and
I wanted to kiss her tummy when she did. I wanted to press my cheek
against her center and feel her fingers in my hair. It was my favorite
thing and perhaps it was a gesture symbolic of returning to the womb,
if I'd cared to analyze it. She was the older in our roles, possessing
a quality of motherhood in our relationship that I enjoyed. But it
wasn't obvious in any real way but that.

She was calling me breathlessly, saying my name between low groans and
sweet gasps. I played her sex to perfection, concentrating on it
ignoring my own moist and empty pussy. My heart was beating fast,
excited at Kylie's arousal, beating with love and compassion and in
sympathy with her own quickening pulse. I'd make her cum for me, a
nice one, a good one, to reassure her that I was there, that I would
always be there.

I had three fingers inside her and Kylie was tight around them, her
knees brought up and her back hunched over as she hugged me to her
body, to her flat soft stomach. I kissed her there, the way I liked
without truly understanding why, and I felt her hands along my spine,
sliding up and down my back. She was trembling and her knees were
between us, against my own soft belly. Kylie was curled up like a
fetus and I felt her tummy grow taut and her sex spasmed around me.
Kylie breathed cool air and let it out with high soft moans, cumming
across my fingers while I made love to her with my hand.

We just laid there for a long while, unmoving except for her fingers
on my back, and my lips against her pale skin. I kissed her tummy
every now and again, with my eyes closed and my hand still between her
legs. Kylie was relaxed now, not squeezing me at all, and it was
comfortable like that. I was enveloped within her form, her body
wrapped around me from my waist to the small of my back. Only my legs
were free of her and I brought my own knees up, so that I could feel
her hard shins against my soft thighs.

And I loved her and I didn't know what I was doing.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
end

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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