Erotic Story: The Reunion

Written by: Eliza Mcharty

Lesbian Erotic StoryI was coming home.

God only knew why. I didn’t allow myself the thought that perhaps I knew why too. Nebraska was brutally cold and lacked the shopping malls I’d become so fond of, most of my old friends from high school had graduated and scattered. There was no reason to be here.

If I were to let my mind wander, I would have admitted the obvious. My luggage, which sat in the back of my rental car, was packed with more expensive lingerie than actual clothing. I had probably provided Victoria’s Secret with half their revenue for the year. The embroidered, pink, satin and lace garter and stocking get-up I wore beneath my casual clothing was worth over $100. I hadn’t dragged my beloved husband with me. And the steering wheel on my car had taken on an odd propensity to take me directly over the familiar streets to… her house. These were all clues that should have made things quite apparent, but I ignored them.

She’s an old friend, I said to myself. We don’t talk enough anymore. We used to be so tight we’d virtually become Siamese twins, making the rash declarations of eternal loyalty that all teenage girls make, then drifted apart. It was only natural that I should go to see her now. Except that I knew better.

I’d only claimed my ambiguous sexuality this year, being a twenty year old woman. I suppose I should have known back in high school when I’d mentally compiled a list of words to describe Ivy’s hair color. Brick, cardinal, carmine, cerise, claret, copper, crimson, damask, flaming, florid, the list went on.

Perhaps in truth I’d figured it out the night we played dress-up like children, then took pictures of one another. A feeling of intense grief, slow and bitter, had filled me that night and I’d known our friendship was over. Perhaps she’d known it too, because we barely spoke. I’d memorized each detail of her face as I took one picture after another. The ridiculously long lashes, the permanent pout of her lips, her elfish nose, the brilliant kelly green of her eyes. I knew on a subconscious level that some line had been crossed which I could not retreat from while salvaging the friendship.

Afterward, we’d embraced each other for an eternity outside my home before parting, our bodies pressed close, tears pouring down our cheeks. I ran inside, shaking violently, feeling strangely raped, vulnerable and angry, unable to give reason to my feelings, because the reason was unthinkable.

Our meetings after that were stilted and excessively rare. I wondered if she knew my reasoning, I searched her expression tentatively for revulsion at my hypocrisy, never sure if I found it there. She’d become an almost inapproachable fantasy, one that I dared not even touch in the confines of my dark desires.

And here I was. Parked outside her house, staring blankly at the light pouring through the windows. Rather than think about what might greet me on Ivy’s doorstep, I turned by attention to my clothes. I suddenly laughed aloud at the remembrance of all the clothes that lay strewn on my bedroom floor. Casual, that’s what I was going for. The I-don’t-care-but-I’m-still-hot look. A man’s white wife beater shirt, tight enough that it didn’t need a bra but transparent enough that it did. Baggy Old Navy jeans. Some sensible shoes. A jade necklace and my long dark hair worn down. It was amazing how much makeup a woman could put on to achieve “naturalness.” That casual look had taken two and a half hours.

What for? Oh, just because. Female competitiveness, I guess. Sure.

I braced myself for the cold outside my car. I looked ridiculous in my tank top towards the end of winter, but my down jacket would have ruined the effect, and I sort of prided myself on my ability to bear the cold. Or to look as if I could bear the cold. I strode up to the door, wondering if I’d already been seen. It wasn’t too late to turn and leave. My feet faltered but I forced myself to the door, thrusting my shoulders back and my chest out. Head high, that was my motto. Lot of good it ever did me.

Ivy opened the door before I’d knocked. My eyes widened, then teared up with suppressed laughter.

Part of her auburn hair was tied back, the rest left to flow down over her shoulders and back in glossy waves. She was as lovely as I remembered, all bright, stunning colors and dizzying curves. She always made me feel as if I was looking through a kaleidoscope.

But what made me choke was her outfit. Black shining pleather pants encased her long, comely legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. A black tank top and bondage cuffs completed the picture. I looked down to her hand, expecting to see a whip there.

I dragged by eyes back up to meet her’s. “Yes, Mistress.”

Her peal of laughter immediately put me at ease. My body relaxed, my smile was genuinely warm and confident.

“I’m going to a costume party.”

“Yeah. Right.”

She giggled again. I had forgotten her laugh.

“Wanna come?” she said, as if it hadn’t been nearly three years since we’d seen each other, as if she was used to me appearing on her doorstep at night, as if she’d expected me to be there.

I glanced down at myself. “Well, I guess with these boots I could take off the necklace, cut my hair short, wash off my make up, and it would pass as a butchy dike costume. I think I’ll need some pliers to stick in my belt though.”

I’d expected her to laugh for me. Instead it seemed I’d called attention to my appearance, and her eyes did that slow, lazy thing they used to do, traveling the length of my body. With a shock I remembered the feelings I’d had back in the day when she’d looked at me like that. Fear. A strange thickening in my throat, a heat in my scalp I had translated to mean discomfort. But then, I said to myself, she always looked like that. Her expression always carried so much sexual energy it was more clear than if she’d thrown someone down on a bed and raped them. That was her way, this was Ivy, it had nothing to do with me.

Still, the silence was long and crackling, deafening.

I cleared my throat abruptly. “How soon do you need to leave?” I asked, brushing off her invitation. “I have oreos and doritoes. I thought maybe we could have a girls’ night out. You know I love Jethro but he’s a man, and for all the friendships I had up here in Nebraska it seems my luck has run out since moving to New York, so I don’t hear girl talk all that often.”

“Forget about the party.”

“No, it looks like you put a lot of effort into your costume and I fear I wouldn’t be as entertaining.”

“I think you will.”

Ridiculous happiness filled me.

“I feel like going out someplace though. Come on.” I turned, expecting her to follow, and she did. I drove her to a little diner. Ivy ignored the speculative looks tossed her way when she came through the door. I might have attributed it to the way she was dressed, except that was the way it always was with Ivy. She had a way of sucking all of the air out of a room, taking up more space than her size explained, making the atmosphere of any room fill with so much static electricity that people suddenly felt as if their hair was standing on end and their clothes were clinging.

I leaned back comfortably in the red leather booth, staring openly, taking my time, taking up my old game where I’d started years ago.

“So what have you been up to?” Her skin: ivory, incandescent, fair, light, pure.

“Well, I’m dating this guy Mario.”

I laughed. “Sounds like a video game character. What’s he look like?” Her eyes: apple, aquamarine, chartreuse, fir, forest, grass, jade, moss, peacock, sage. She said they turned gray sometimes, I’d never seen it.

“Black hair, blue eyes. I sent his picture to you, don’t you remember?”

“Yes,” I said, lying. When Ivy loved, she loved hard. I’d loved them all vicariously through her, but at some point I stopped memorizing their faces, likes, and dislikes, because when it was over I felt her heart ache with her. I didn’t like that.

“How serious is it?” Her figure was smaller than I remembered. Perhaps because back when I’d known her she had worn the same, unflattering baggy coat every day, and I’d never seen her real figure. Beneath it had always been glimpses of simple, elegant little tank tops, and I’d only realized the depth of her good taste when I stayed over and went through her closet, crooning over her beautiful clothing. I’d wondered who she wore it for.

“I love him. As much as I loved Luke.” I nodded. I had loved Luke. That was a sad story.

“What’s he like?” I was still irked over what appeared to be weight loss, but she wasn’t a stick figure, thank God. Healthy, lusty, robust, shapely, well-proportioned, winsome, opulent, sumptuous. I suppose she was approximately my own size, perhaps a fifteen on a good day. Warmth spread through me. I wondered if my cheeks were reddening visibly.

“Thoughtful. He takes the time to get to know me, to break down my defenses.”

She had to have the most gorgeous fuckin lips I’d ever seen. Huge. Not Julia Roberts huge, more Angelina Jolie huge almost, precisely the way that all lips should be made, the lower lip thick, the top less so but with an arch. They smirked and I realized quite suddenly that she was aware of the intensity of my attention. I decided to back off a bit.

We ordered our food. She ate well, which was always something I’d loved about Ivy: her appetite for life. We spoke, inane little bits of conversation. I shifted, and my foot came into contact with hers. A simple mistake, but I didn’t move it. Unbelievable how little things like that make me ache.

“My chocolate chip pancakes are delicious. How’re your eggs?” I asked.

Ivy’s grimace was obvious. “Wonderful.”

“Would you like some of mine?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

I took a forkful of pancake, filling it liberally with syrup, then lifted it to her mouth. Her lips parted and I took the opportunity, imperceptibly turning the fork so as to leave a bit of syrup on her lower lip.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I reached over, using my thumb to wipe the offending syrup away. Her eyes met mine, assessing, questioning, but I provided no answers. A few more bites for good measure and then I did it again. This time as I wiped it away I dipped my forefinger just barely between her lips. Without looking at her I licked the syrup off of my finger, not lingeringly or tauntingly, but done as an instinct. Though it pained me, I didn’t look for her reaction, certain that it would take me just over the line into the obvious. Obvious is something I try very hard not to be.

I looked around to notice that the patrons of the diner, all men, had stopped eating and talking. Poor guys, they’d probably all creamed their pants. I stared them all down until they turned their attention away, abashed.

We paid and left. We rented some videos, bought even more junk food (I loved that I could safely eat with her) and headed to my temporary abode.

I opened the door to my friend Megan’s apartment. She was off in Europe somewhere and she was allowing me to use it during my stay, assuming I didn’t trash the place. It was small but very comfortable and homey, tastefully decorated in a romantic way.

I gathered blankets and pillows, creating a nest on the living room floor. I went to the restroom to get into pajamas and decided instead to simply put on a pink satin robe, ironically the exact shade of my areoles and lips. When I came back into the living room Ivy was lounged back on the black leather couch, looking very much like a masochist’s wet dream in her costume. I then went to put a DVD in the player, bending down to slide it in.

When I turned the heat of her gaze was a palpable thing that took my breath away. “Your ass is much better than Minnie’s,” I remembered her saying years ago. The unprovoked comparison had at the time made me wonder why she’d even noticed. I knew, of course, but chose not to know.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be responsible for what happens,” I teased, trying to lighten the situation.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to take all of the credit.” Before I could respond she stood and walked down the hall, saying she needed to use the restroom.

I stretched out on the couch and watched TV, flicking through channels. Good ol’ Megan sure did love porn, and I loved Megan because she loved porn. I hit the mute, although I wanted to hear the moans and sighs, I couldn’t really afford it. It’s a sad thing about the Playboy channel, nothing but thin, silicon-filled women, but I liked to watch their faces or just listen to the sounds.

Just then Ivy came around the corner, wearing a simple white t-shirt and baggy black pajama pants that moved with her body, giving hints of hidden curves, strangely more erotic than her previous costume. I’d expected to be able to hear the bathroom door open, I hadn’t been counting on this. I mashed some buttons to get to CNN, but it was probably too late, she’d already seen the man and woman on the screen in their coupling. She lifted a delicate eyebrow.

“CNN… exciting.”

I didn’t laugh. A flirty smile played about her lips, making it hard to breathe right and look her in the eye. She sat down, leaning against my curled up legs. Daring. Two could play that game.

My pulse leapt, but I flipped the channel back to the porn I’d been watching, turning up the volume. A woman’s jolting moan filled the room, instantly arousing me.

“More exciting. You don’t mind, right?”

She shook her head silently, giving no reaction.

I didn’t watch the screen. I watched her profile while her gaze was rapt to the happenings of the porn stars. My veins sizzled with hot blood, starting at my toes and working it’s way up to my hair, but I waited patiently for her lips to redden more and part, for her eyes to dilate. It wasn’t necessary to wait very long. Ivy struggled to keep her breathing even and though her eyes stayed in place I could feel her becoming more and more aware of my presence beside her.

My mind scrambled for excuses to give her what she wanted, something innocent that could develop into more if she gave me provocation. I’ll brush your hair. Would you like some ice cream? I don’t really want to sleep on the couch, could we share the bed? You look tense, I bet you’d like a massage.

I picked one, shocked at my own brilliance.

“Will you pose for me?”

She looked at me, saying nothing.

“You remember, I’m an aspiring photographer. The book of black and white nudes I intend to make, you recall? We had so much fun last time we did that. It’s just you look like a very fine subject just now and I’d like to capture it.”

She agreed with the first sign of shyness I’d yet encountered in her. I fetched my hulking camera from my duffel bag, glad that I carried it with me where ever I went.

“What would you like me to do?”

I smiled. My subjects were always tense at first. I’d learned that it took several rolls to get them to relax, to accept their own beauty. Then the last pictures were always breath-taking in their unreserved confidence. I’d stopped wasting film and started leaving the camera empty until I sensed they had fallen in love with themselves as they rightfully should. It was a seduction, really, even if I had no personal interest in the subject. I fondly remembered turning a tightly-wound church-girl’s graduation photo shoot into a collection of lovely boudoir photography. She’d been wearing nothing but leather chaps and massage oil. Though she was pretty, it hadn’t been particularly arousing for me, but I did take pride in the accomplishment.

“Just watch the TV.” This is where my analytical nature came in handy, where I could safely say out loud all of the traits I’d noted earlier under the pretense of professional interest in aesthetics.

“You see, when a woman is aroused, her eyes dilate, and your’s are very dark and lovely just now.”

Her eyes met the lens. I snapped the picture.

“Did you ever wonder why women wear lipstick? It’s because when we’re in a state of excitement our lips redden to signal subconsciously to our partner that we are ready. You have very luscious lips, did you know that? I’ll bet you’re not even wearing lipstick right now, are you?”

“No, I suppose you rubbed it off when you wiped that syrup away.”

I glared at her for making reference to what I’d hoped was a subtle seduction. Ivy didn’t blanch, a knowing smile tweaking the corners of her mouth.

Honest compliment after honest compliment, she bloomed like a flower, opening herself to me. She was ready. “Mario will like that one so much. Would you like to take some just for him?” She nodded.

As I pretended to take out the old roll I asked “Do you have a bra and underwear under that?”


Without looking up at her I snapped a real roll in. “Well then, take that off.” This would be memorable.

She hesitated but obeyed. I hid my hunter’s smile behind the fall of my hair, then looked up at her. A lavender embroidered bra and panties. Casual with her clothes she may have been, but the girl invested well in her undergarments, always had. She looked at me knowingly but graciously played my game.

“Lay on your side so I can see the curve of your hip. It will look good against that leather couch.”

She did as I asked. The swells and hollows of her body were maddening.

“Crane your neck back and close your eyes. Mm, yes, he’ll like that. No sweetheart, don’t suck in your stomach, it’s delectable.”

Several shots later I grabbed an oil bottle from my duffel bag. “I hope you don’t mind. You have gorgeous skin, I want to highlight it.”

I poured a big dose into the palm of my hand. She let me rub it over the delicate curve of her shoulders, the feminine line of her collar bone. Ivy was breathing hard now, obviously making no attempt to hide herself from me. I pretended not to be aware of it, then rubbed the oil over her chest, taking far more time than was necessary, dipping my fingers the barest bit beneath the line of the bra, watching her nipples harden with delight. I moved away, pleased with her obvious frustration, and kneaded her belly. It was soft and warm, the urge to nip at it was almost entirely unbearable. I moved on to her legs, light leaping up beneath my palm as it shimmered off of the liquid. Shapely calves, edible, thick thighs. Again I paused overlong on her inner thighs, glancing up at her. She was panting for me and I felt I could barely keep myself from orgasm just looking at her face. In a passing gesture, which I could have passed off as an accident, I rubbed the clothe where I knew her clit was hidden and she whimpered.

“You like this video, do you?”

She nodded, all of her sophisticated sensuality washed away leaving only raw, appealing, sincere desire. “Yes, the video.”

“That will look good on camera. Turn over.”

She did and I finished rubbing the oil over her plump firm ass and the lovely small of her back.

I took several steps back. “Get on your hands and knees and throw your hair to one side. Put your ass up in the air and your back down. Yes, like that. Look at the screen. Now look at me. Now sit up on the very edge of the couch. Spread your legs and lean forward with your elbows braced on your knees and act like you’re angry. Yes, sultry like that. You need no instruction do you? Your tits look great in that pose.”

Ivy was watching me intently with exactly the lust I was looking for. I realized with a shock why when I looked down and saw that the sash on my robe had slid free and it was parted, revealing the lingerie I had worn. After a moment of embarrassment, knowing I had certainly been caught dressing up for her, I smirked at her in a reproachful way.

“All that for a night watching movies?” she said.

“It was laundry day. I was out of the simpler stuff.”

“And the garter belt and thigh highs?” she said, giggling now.

“It matched. Seemed a waste not to wear the whole thing.”

Heat shimmered in the air for a moment, blazing through the tense fibers of my body. I felt devoured by her eyes.

She didn’t answer, her eyes dancing with laughter.

Time to brazen it out. “Now lean back and just put your hand on your crotch, as if you’re rubbing yourself. Do you ever touch yourself Ivy? We never talked about that as girls.”


“Think about whatever it is you think about when you do that while you touch yourself. It will be more realistic on film that way.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed herself slowly. I took shot after shot. Bliss flitted across her features and curiosity gripped me. “What do you think about?”

Her luminescent eyes opened and I took a sharp breath. They were so bright they nearly glowed. They’d turned gray, the way she’d always said they did. “Um…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. Take off your bra.” So much for being subtle. She looked at me slyly and didn’t budge. “Okay, you don’t need to take it all the way off. Here, I’ll show you what we’ll do.”

I strode forward, and in a no-nonsense way slid my hand inside one cup of her bra. Ivy cried out but didn’t stop me and I ignored her. I pulled her tit free of the cup, then pulled the bra down beneath her breast so it supported her at the same time she was exposed.

“See, that’s so pretty, so sexy, isn’t it Ivy?” Mary mother of God, it was perfect. Petite, soft to the touch, a large hardened nipple. I remembered that she’d suffered some insecurity about them in high school, and I couldn’t imagine not loving having pert, pretty breasts like this. Hell, I’d be groping myself if I were her. What would she taste like? I could almost feel the texture of her nipple against my tongue, and I licked my lips.

She looked down at herself, at my hand lingering needlessly there. “Yes.”

“You know, when a woman is aroused her nipples harden,” I said informatively, quietly as though it were a secret that few people knew.

She tried to smile, but only managed to speak breathily. “You don’t say.”

“You like the sight of yourself like that sweetheart? I thought so, anybody would.” I grabbed my oil again, happily rubbing the exposed breast with it. Oh my God, I was so wet. I knew a single touch would send me over the edge. I pinched her puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, loving the way she arched her back in such a helpless way.

“Wow Ivy, you’re pretty sensitive to the touch, aren’t you? Responsive. I’m sorry sweetheart, but I want to make sure these are nice and hard for him, you know, so the pictures are more realistic. Hold that pose. Yes, fuck, he’s going to love these Ivy. You’re good at this, you know that? Whoever you did this for before taught you well. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were really turned on.” She chuckled.

“Now reach inside your panties and touch yourself. Yeah, and touch your breast at the same time. That’s very good, you look disheveled.” I dropped the camera, feigning a frown. “I’m so sorry, hold on.” I fetched some tissues. “Seems I got some of that oil on the crotch of your panties, there’s a dark spot there.”

I rubbed the tissues up against her crotch to clean up the mess I’d made, knowing full well that she was simply so wet she’d soaked her panties. She lifted her hips against my hand, moaning in a keening way. “These are expensive, I’ll bet, wouldn’t want to do them any damage, I’d feel really bad about that,” I said, breathing heavily in her ear. She grabbed my hand and met my eyes. At first I thought she intended to stop me but then realized she was afraid I’d stop. I smiled. And stopped.

“Well, I think it’s too late, they can’t be salvaged. Why don’t you just take them off? And the bra too, I always think bras just look silly without panties.”

She stood, moving slowly to pull them off. I helped her to undo her bra.

“Do you remember the picture you sent me a while back? The one with you against a wall, leather jacket, short skirt?” I said as I walked her across the room, delighting in the fact that she didn’t cower or mince in the nude, but walked about as if she were wearing clothing, proudly.

“Yeah,” she said absent-mindedly.

Suddenly I pushed her up against the wall, perhaps a bit too roughly, bracing my hands on either side of her head. “I liked it,” I heard my voice grate, hardly sounding like my own.

I stared at her mouth as it formed a smirk. If I’d wanted prey, someone to dominate or subdue, I’d picked the wrong woman to tangle with.

“Did you now?”

I could barely hear her over the pulse in my ears. “Uh huh,” I rasped as I leaned forward. I placed my lips softly against hers. I paused a moment to allow her the chance to push me away, to say something to the effect that she didn’t feel that way about me. When no protest came, I traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of my tongue, tugged gently at her lip with my teeth, wooing her mouth to open for me. When they parted for a soundless sigh, my tongue dipped in, ravishing her mouth as my hand slid into her hair to hold her head to receive the mating of my kiss. I felt her hair, impossibly long and thick, slither like a live thing around my hand. I tried to communicate my savage, mind-numbing hunger in my kiss, speaking in a forbidden language about all the things I intended to do. She matched me, biting my tingling lips until I could taste the faintest hint of blood. She was warm and cold to the taste all at the same time and I could taste the sweetness of her lip gloss on my tongue. She made a keening, womanly sound in her throat that caused parts of my body to clench with desire.

“I wanted to do so many things to you against that wall,” I said raggedly, probably indiscernibly. Ivy’s hands hung loosely, casually at her sides, and mine trailed over the generous dip of her waist, sweeping back and sliding down her full ass, where I gripped her and pulled her body hard against my own, rough now in my need for her.

She gave me an irritated, beseeching moan when I pulled away, breathing harshly, trying to regain control. It didn’t work. I hung my head and when I opened my eyes there before me was her flushed body, propped against the wall, making me faint all over again. I could stare at that body for hours.

I thrust my knee between her legs and she allowed me passage. I groaned at the heat and slickness of her that filtered through my nylons. I dipped my head to her elegant throat, nuzzling her and breathing deeply of her scent, her hair tickling my face in the most maddening way. I was rewarded by her shiver. I rained kisses down on her shoulders, some sweet and others passionate. She shifted her weight, rocking herself against my thigh.

“I may never wash my leg again,” I laughed softly into her ear, but she didn’t seem to notice with her eyes closed tightly. I watched incredible emotions flicker over her face, in awe of her beauty. I noted absently that her nails were digging painfully into the cheeks of my ass. She’d once said that she often left scars on her lovers’ backs in the heat of her passion. I didn’t mind the thought and half hoped she’d give me a souvenir to remember the experience by.

I didn’t anticipate her reaching up and cupping my breasts. They were slightly swollen with desire and it was necessary for her to splay her fingers wide to encompass them. I nearly cried out but swallowed it back, closing my eyes against the blinding pleasure, near to crying at the intensity of it. When she rubbed my nipples through my satin bra with the pads of her thumbs, a sharp hiss escaped my clenched teeth. I opened my eyes, looking down at her soft, feminine hands kneading my flesh and trembled violently. Ivy’s hands. On me. On the most erotically sensitive part of my body. This wasn’t happening to me. It was all some misunderstanding on my part.

I jerked away and picked up my camera, putting a safe distance between she and I. Ivy needed no help in posing her lush body for me, and therefore the distance did nothing to abate my desire, which was becoming a constant uncomfortable, delightful ache.

“Touch yourself again, I’ll get your profile looking up at the ceiling. No, a little more. That’s not quite what I’m looking for.” I sighed heavily, so dramatically that I almost laughed at my own performance. “Look, let me help.”

I threw off my robe, annoyed by it’s constraining folds and feeling unreasonably hot. I took her hand in my own.

“See, I want you to touch yourself like this, at this angle. See, doesn’t that feel better?” I put a finger up inside of her and she screamed. “Yes, that’s nice, hold that expression.” I grabbed my camera with my left hand, with some effort taking the picture while keeping my finger buried inside her. “That’s my good girl, ughm, you’re so good. God, you’re wet. You must really like that video.” I glanced at the screen, not having been aware of it. Two women were kissing there. “You like girl on girl stuff?”

She was gasping for air, unable to speak. I took my finger out of her and she regained her composure. She grinned boldly. “I think you know that.”

“That’s awfully dirty, don’t you think?”

“Very,” Ivy said as she reached behind me and deftly undid the hooks of my bra before I could pull away. I leaned forward, rubbing my body against her, heat engulfing me at the feel of her smooth breasts, stomach, legs and mons against my own. She bit down on my shoulder, and I remembered hazily something about her being something of a biter. I was complimented by the intensity of her arousal. I tasted the mix of flavored oil and sweat at her neck. Animalistic sounds escaped both of us, mingling together with the moans coming from the TV.

She said a million incomprehensible things that sounded to my ears like elegant poetry. The words “God, fuck, yes, no, Eliza, uhm, good, more, stop, now, yes, dammit, again, feels, oh” mixed to create fractional sentences that made perfect sense to me.

She pushed feebly at my shoulders. I grasped her hands, pinning them firmly above her head.

“All you have to do is say no. But you don’t want to say no, do you angel? You like it, huh?”

“Yes, God yes.”

“I thought so.” I thrust two fingers back inside her tight pussy, feeling her grip me there. God, she was like molten lava, her flesh hot, her cum wrapping itself in slick folds around my fingers, she was so wet that her nectar was smeared over her inner thighs and yet lost none of it’s abundance. I pumped my fingers in and out of her, wishing I had a dildo I could fuck her with. She purred.

“I forgot you purred, I always loved that. Tell me why you’re so slippery, why you’re pulsing here, I want to hear the words.”

“Because… I… ohh God, yes… because I like it.”

“What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Ev… verything.”

“You’re greedy. That’s good.”

I picked up the camera that sat on the table beside us, then turned to the bedroom. Unable to disentangle my body from her, whether from my own attachment or hers I don’t know, we stumbled into the bedroom, groping and cooing to one another. If I had been clear-headed I might have been appreciative of the silk sheets Megan had invested in and the grandeur of her bed, with it’s dark scarlet canopy. I might have noticed that this was a setting for debauchery rather than romance unlike the rest of her house.

I wasn’t clear-headed so I didn’t notice.

I sat back against the headboard and patted my abdomen. “Right here, I want you to face away from me. That way I can play with you all I want.”

Ivy didn’t hesitate as I arranged her to my satisfaction like a doll, her back to my chest, her soft legs draped wide over my own thighs, her hands at her sides, flat on the mattress. With my mouth touching the side of her throat I said “Now don’t move, my pretty little slut.”

She moaned in anticipation. I cupped both her breasts, pulling gently at her swollen, sensitive nipples. In my ardor I thought I’d been too rough, but her reaction was so electrifying that I came to the conclusion she enjoyed light pain.

“I don’t know how much of this I can take Ivy. I love your breasts.”

Her back arched and I warned, “Be still now.”

“I… I can’t Eliza.”

“Yes you can.” I opened my mouth on her shoulder, nibbling as I tugged at her nipples. Her fingers knotted in the sheet and her groan was dark and high. I took my time, teasing her and teasing myself until I heard her give a soft sob, trembling uncontrollably, and I smoothed my hands down her body to her sweet belly.

“Open your legs wider, my beauty.”

She obeyed quickly.

“Mmmm,” I said, staring down the length of her sprawled body and touching her with my fingertips. “Damn. You’re really close, aren’t you? Do you see the stain you’ve made on the sheets Ivy?”

She gasped and then screamed as I thumbed her, her hips jerking hard.

“You’re so loud. Do you want everyone to hear you? I want everyone to know what I’m doing to you. Hold still Angel.”

“I can’t,” she said angrily.

I pushed two fingers into her again, entering easily because she was so wet. I held my breath, holding still. She was stretched taut around me, clenching my fingers in quick spasms. Her head pressed into my shoulder, her buttocks squirming against my lap. “Yes, yes. Please! Please Eliza, finger me harder.”

I pulled my fingers from her body, using both hands to tweak her nipples again, leaving them damp and ultra sensitive in the night air. “Bend your knees,” I directed softly “and spread your thighs as wide as you can for me.”

She did, but I helped her, opening her legs more, moving her so that her feet were flat on the mattress at either side of my knees until she was wide open and vulnerable. I opened her sex with one hand and with the other began rhythmically petting her, using my fingertips to rasp up and over her clitoris, that valuable little pearl, gently, purposefully, again and again. Every so often I dipped between the petals of her flower, gathering and spreading her abundant moisture, altering my movements to keep her from coming too soon. I wanted the pleasure to build and build until ivy lost it for me.

Minutes later, she was crying out, panting. “Yes, sweetheart, tell the next door neighbors about it. God, you’re so hot, I want this so bad.” She couldn’t hold still and squirmed against me in blind carnality. Her head rolled on my shoulder and I felt her soft, silky hair all over my chest, teasing my nipples. “You ready, Ivy?” I asked, knowing I was beyond ready myself. I kissed her temple. She answered with a rough moan.

“All right.” Feeling like a world conqueror, I concentrated my touch just so. I felt her heart thunder, she stiffened, and then, with a harsh cry, she started to break.

“That’s it Ivy, hell yes. You can move now, honey. Any way you want to.”

She did, countering the stroke of my fingers, crying and shuddering and lifting her hips in frantic rhythm. I loved every second of it, her lack of inhibition. When she shattered into a million glittering pieces, it felt like diamond dust, soft points of light, falling over my body.

When her body finally went lax and boneless against me, I cupped my palm over her burning mound, softly to keep the lust within her.

“Don’t get sleepy on me Ivy. I’m not done with you.”

I disengaged myself from her, then pushed her back onto the bed and straddled her, offering her my breast. She was drowsy, but her little pink tongue darted out and licked it as she looked up at my face with those huge, liquid eyes. I arched my back, which pushed my breast forward, and she sucked at it. I whimpered helplessly, the ecstasy so intense that it was burgeoning on pain. “Oh fuck, yes, you do that so well Ivy, please don’t ever stop sucking my tits.”

I took her hand, laying it to the damp crotch of my panties, which had a convenient slit in the middle to allow access. Her mouth formed a funny little O. “I’ve never been this wet. Does it flatter you?” Her soft fingers rubbed me there in answer. I stopped her immediately, knowing a single extra stroke and I would have cum, and I may have fainted from the force of it.

I slid down her body, feasting on her smooth silky skin, hands roaming over plump hills and dipping valleys, feeling like a starved and dehydrated woman who’d just found an oasis. I drew her breast deep into my mouth, sucking hard. I cursed over and over around the flesh that filled my voracious mouth, telling her repeatedly what they did to me. Her nipple was stiff but it puckered further at the urging of my tongue.

I licked at her sweet little tummy, biting at it, skimming the rim of her navel as if it were a goblet, wishing I had wine I could pour into it and sip from. “Spread your legs again. Wide. You have the prettiest pussy, do you know that? Look how swollen and wet you are, is it all just for me?”

Her scent, warm and female, rose to greet me. I licked lightly at her turgid, sensitive clit, delicately like a kitten drinking milk. I was surprised when she lifted her hips to meet me, having figured now that she would be too sensitive for direct contact. “Please more. Please Eliza, please lick it harder.” Instead I continued lightly, swirling in little circles around it until she reached down, her fingers gripping my hair so tightly that tears sprang to my eyes, and lifted her pelvis insistently against my face. Then I took it into my mouth, licking frantically, reaching up and fingering her at the same time. I tried desperately to keep myself calm and restrained by playing my word game. Her juices were sweet, spicy, salty, tart, musky, God it was impossible to describe but it was ambrosia to my senses. She might have cum quickly for me except that I didn’t want it to be over and stopped each time she seemed too near to her release. She’d cuss at me angrily, then beg prettily and I’d resume.

She started to climax again and I needed to hear it, to feel her spasms in my mouth so badly that I couldn’t bring myself to stop again. I loved the idea that all of the neighboring apartments could hear her building moans as they escalated, sounding precisely like a porn star, only it was so real. I pictured some man next door with his ear pressed to the wall, stroking his hardened dick, wondering how he got so lucky. I reached down and rubbed my clit. It took literally three strokes and I was crying out into the folds of her sex as I took my own pleasure just before I knew her orgasm had become inevitable.

I reached over to my left and fumbled for my camera quickly, sitting up while stroking her intimate, tense flesh to finish her off. I smiled as she jerked and claimed her pleasure at the same moment that the flash went off.

I sat up and looked down at her prone form, panting heavily.

“That was certainly better than our last little photo shoot, don’t you think?”

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