She came out of the bathroom with only a sheer white thong on and a fluffy towel wrapped around her head. I had seen her scantily-clad at the beach many times in the past but was, in no way, prepared to see her nearly naked. Over the years I had watched her evolve from a teen to a mother so very gracefully. After having a child her body not only bounced back, she seemed to have developed an intense emanation of sexual energy—a stunning degree of confidence and playfulness. For nearly 15 years I wondered what it would be like to be intimate with a woman, but for whatever reason had never found myself in such a situation and when I would daydream it would involve a fictitious female. But, about a year ago, she became captivating to me—filling my fantasies. Her parents named her properly—Nani, “beautiful.”
“I am sorry that I left you out here, in a foreign place, while I took my time in the shower,” she apologized, standing only feet in front of me. “It’s alright, I am in no hurry, I nervously replied, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. I was fearful that the moment I tried I would fixate on her well-endowed chest, as it had always both intimidated and excited me. I had always been curious as to what they looked like out of a bikini top. I felt something from her that was begging me to indulge my senses. “I am so thankful that Rodney took little Ashley to her Aunties’ house today. It feels great to be able to have an opportunity to be ‘Nani’ every once in a while.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I held back a sincere compliment.
She turned her back and began moving toward her vanity. Taking the opportunity to marvel at her form I studied the backside of her thong as she opened the bottom drawer and retrieved lotion. Her rear had always been well-concealed under her bathing suit, as she preferred full-coverage. It was just as I imagined it would be—supple-looking, radiant, olive-toned skin with prominent tan lines. My heart began racing. The room felt stuffy.
Through the vanity mirror she glanced back at me as she closed the drawer and lifted one leg onto a chair. I quickly moved my eyes to her hands in hopes that she did not see me admiring her. “You know, I have been meaning to connect with you for years but after having Ashley I found it hard to do so with most people. Now that she is getting older it has become easier to find free time,” she said, flipping the cap of the bottle back. The scent of jasmine filled the room once the moisture hit her skin. It somehow melded well with the visual of crisp whiteness up against her deep complexion. Again, my eyes were drawn in to her flawless figure, as her pink flower peeked through her sheer mesh panties. This time, when I looked back into her reflection in the mirror, it was clear that I had been caught. She simply smiled, lifted her other foot onto the chair, and continued to talk.
Beads of sweat began forming at my hair line. I had known how to handle propositions from men and was a little disturbed and bewildered by my reactions when it came to an encounter with a woman. I knew that she saw my nervousness—my beet-red face, my eyes bouncing from the floor beside her to what was on display before me. She stood upright, piled another load of scented moisture onto one hand, pushed her delectable mounds outward, lifted the back of her thong, and proceeded to slather under and around the tiny piece of cloth. Wide-eyed, I listened while she continued her story. It was apparent that she knew what she was doing.
A part of me wanted to run—not knowing what to do or how to react—and another was telling me to relax and let the situation flow. After the lower portion of her body was gleaming she turned away from the vanity and approached me. She was speaking very quickly, using her hands for emphasis—her breasts bouncing and swaying back and forth. The sensual aroma seemed to surface from her skin and smother me.
At once she stopped speaking, sat beside me at the foot of her bed, looked me straight in the eye, and paused. That sweet, warm, genuine smile drifted across her lips as she raised two fingers to a few strands of hair dangling from my crown and proceeded to tuck them behind my ear. “Is everything alright, Amber?” she asked, in a low, seductive voice. I took a hard swallow and softly peeped “Yes.” She lifted my hand, placed the bottle of lotion inside, and turned her back to me. I did as she requested with a slight sense of relief, it felt less like I was on the spot not having all of her tantalizing body revealed before me. As I spread the first stream from her neck to the base of her shoulder blade I felt, for the first time in my life, blissful softness. It was precisely as I thought it would be in the years that she had filled my fantasies. In circular motions I continued stroking to the other side of her toned back, all the way down the length of her spine. All of my apprehension had faded; I began to be in somewhat of a meditative state. After her flesh was sufficiently moistened I flowed with what came naturally—pressing the palm of my hands into her firm muscles, the towel unraveling and falling from her head as she tilted her head back. Her coconut-scented, perfectly-straight hair spilled onto her shoulders.
I collected her mane in a tight pony tail and tugged upward, causing her shoulders to relax. Shifting her head slightly to one side, I gazed at the contours along the peach fuzz-laden nape of her neck, her tiny supple earlobe beckoning for attention. My tongue naturally gravitated to it, barely making contact, my heavy breath releasing into her ears. In the reflection of the vanity mirror I saw her gaping mouth form a subtle, long moan. My entire face began tingling, from that tiny region of contact outward. Opening my mouth, I tilted my head so that it may envelope the crest between the back of her ear and hairline. I delivered a gentle, subtle kiss, and she leaned farther back into me. One of my arms wrapped around her torso, and held her closely. Conflicting thoughts of wanting to cuddle and devour her danced in my mind, although the later overcame. In a slow, drawn out motion I sank my teeth into her open flesh, causing her to jump and somewhat hiss and arch her back. “I can feel that in my nipples,” she gasped. Switching the grip of her long mane to my other hand, I repeated the advance on the untouched side of her neck. It was far more sensitive than the other—causing me to burn inside, and her to squirm, though she tried hard to sit still. I could feel that she was as wet as I was, though neither of us was willing to give that away in this moment.
“Would you mind helping me moisturize the front of my body,” she purred, slowly shifting her body on the bed until we were face-to-face. She squirted a puddle onto my hand and guided it to her cleavage. I slowly traversed every curve, marveling at their shape, texture, and…responsiveness—her contagious smile assuring me to continue. After becoming well-acquainted with every inch, she stopped my motions. Will you take your shirt off she urged, lifting the bottom seam of my tank top. She stopped to admire my black lace bra, running her finger tips over the surface. “We might as well get rid of this, too,” she added, sliding her thumb under one of the straps. “I have always wondered what it would be like to have hand-fulls. I feel that mine are a burden,” she said, cupping one of my breasts, lifting its weight upward. Her burden was my joy as I stroked her breasts and envisioned myself sucking her nipples softly.
“Now come closer and wrap your legs around my waist, like this,” she said, throwing hers over mine as an example. Sitting upright, top-less, our lips effortlessly connected, our dancing tongues gently flicking at one another. We sat entwined, licking, kissing, and exploring—me mimicking her movements. Her hand rose to my nipple, grasping it between two fingers. As she pulled on me and caressed both of my breasts, she put her lips onto my chocolate kisses, I shuddered and began to be savored and melt in her mouth. She placed one hand at the back of my head and urged that I follow through with that notion. I moistened the skin about one nipple—slowly, so that she may feel the warmth of my breath—then gently clasped my teeth around the erect peak. “You just bit into it,” she giggled. I continued to lap, and nibble, ending in a firm caress of her lips.
Her hands moved to the waistband of my skirt and massaged my hip before two of her fingers nestled under the side seam of my panties. I disengaged my lips from hers and watched as she fondled my drenched mound. I saw her own from beneath the fabric—begging me to follow her lead. Lifting the bright mesh from her flesh, I nuzzled the backside of two fingers against her warm, welcoming folds. We both were attempting to move our hips inward, but our sitting position was prohibiting the movement. I suggested that we lie on our backs, entangled in somewhat of an l-shape. All of the focus from that point forward was at our pleasure epicenters. We worked our panties down and inserted fingers into the moistened crevices.
Our fingers wiggled inward, traversing the warm, wet, walls—legs splayed to their widest extent. We cleaned the nectar from one another’s fingers, and then dove back into the feminine depths—our bodies writhing, moans filling the room. We found the sweet spots in the midst of the damp muscular folds, but would stop once approaching completion—ingesting all of one another that we could. Massaging the slippery wetness around the puckered surface, we teased one finger tip in and out. Our buttons were hardened—neglected and craving amenity—but the moment that we began moving down each other, we heard the sound of tires pull into the gravel driveway. Her husband had arrived with her daughter.
As we dressed she said I have had a crush on you for some time. Thanks for this “taste test”. I replied can we begin where we left off next time? A warm smile crossed her face as we walked towards the foyer.
