When Amiee meets Andrea a whole new world opens up to her. A story of lesbian delight well worth reading…
It was during spring, I remember, the time I met Andrea, that magical and wonderful time I met my darling angel. The leaves on the trees turning into a myriad shades of green and there buds peeping shyly from every branch of every tree. I had been waiting at Nino’s, the coffee shop, for my boyfriend but, as usual, he was late. The waitress that had brought my coffee kept coming over to check if I needed anything else and, after the third time, I noticed that she had the loveliest dimples: they were like twin shadows that played hide and seek on her cheeks. She was slender without being thin and she looked to be about 24 (I’m 34). I watched secretly from where I sat, watched as she moved from table to table. I was surprised at the familiar tingle in the base of my belly, that good old warmth that started spreading slowly through my groin. I squeezed my legs together and I felt the pleasure surge upwards.
What was this? Was this really me, horny at the sight of a ‘dimpledwaitress’ swirling skirt? Looking at the way her T-shirt moulded her breasts that rode high on her chest? Me? No way! But I couldn’t take my eyes off her and she noticed me staring at her and gave me a knowing smile…I licked my lips and then felt Derek slipping into the seat next me. He had arrived without my noticing it. As we greeted I realised that my heart was beating rapidly, like a captive bird, panicked and excited. We got up to leave for the movies and she came over to clear the table. Looking directly into my eyes, she said in a low musical voice.
“Please come again…” I nodded, confused, excited.
That night, after Ninos, Derek and I went to the movies. We watched “Traffic”, I remember, but all I could think about was the waitress. Later, back at my place we made love and Derek thought he was doing something right because I was groaning and moaning like never before. I had a good, satisfying orgasm but little did he know I was fantasing about the waitress. Later, when were panting for breath, he commented about it and said that he had never seen me that into it before. I smiled to myself in the darkness. Like you will never know, my boy, like you will never know, I thought.
I agonised for about two days and plucked up the courage to go back to Ninos on my own. Imagine my disappointment when I realised that she wasn’t there. I was miserable, drinking my coffee without tasting it, not sure what to do. I initially thought that this was fate, I was been guided, that this was not meant to be. I thought about her on and off about her for a week, stumped because I didn’t even know her name. I decided to go back again and, glory be, there she was. I don’t think she realised it but her face lit up when she saw me and that has been the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me, I swear. For the first time I felt appreciated and what made it special was that she didn’t even know me. It was a wonderful moment and it is a defining point in my life. She has such a musical voice, low, sexy, intimate, almost as if she whispers, as she is talking exclusively to you, like no-one else matters. She seated me in a dark corner and I don’t remember much of the snack I ate or the juice I had with me.
Her name is Andrea and somehow it suited her: blond streaked hair, lazy blue eyes and those gorgeous dimples. She was studying at RAU, finishing her third year and waitressed for extra pocket money. She’s from the Cape(sadly) and was going to go home for good in three days time. I got her cell number and we arranged that I would call her the next day, with view to a ‘date’. Since she was in res at RAU I knew that she would have come to my place, that we would have to compress the “courtship” because we had no time. I called her that Friday, my heart fluttering, my fingers shaking as I dialled her number.
“Aimee” she answered, “please say that it is you”. It was the sweetest greeting ever. We chatted for a while and we agreed that my place would be good and that I would pick her up. I asked if she had any preference for drink and she asked me to get a bottle of Buiteverwachting (new to me) but I got two.
I fetched her at the entrance to the varsity. She was waiting with another girl, tall and statuesque, bright-eyed, watchful. Her friend stared at me as Andrea got in, almost envious. They touched fingertip as they said goodbye, cute, innocent and yet knowing.
“Friend?” I asked.
“Hm, friend, no more than that. Not like you.” This hung in the car, in the space between us. I let it soak into my skin; let it settle on my psyche, light like a kiss, flirtatious like a butterfly. She asked if she could play a CD, reached into her sling bag and put Nelly Furtado on. “I’m like a bird”, Nelly sang, and I smiled. I, too, felt like a bird, free, light, free, light, over and over again.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, not sure how get from this, from the car, to the next thing, the next stage, whatever that was.
“No, but I would like a nibble, a bite.’ She laughed and my heart raced. Her laughter was a key, my fear and insecurity the lock.
I had arranged for Chad to spend the weekend with my mother so the place was ours. It waited for us as we pulled into driveway, semi-dark in the falling evening shades. My home, inherited from the divorce, paid in full. For the first time since the divorce it felt like home, my home. Me, the new me, bringing a special guest home, the lovely Andrea, the musical and sexy Andrea.
I was nervous, a panicky host, welcoming her there, showing her the lounge, the kitchen. A small smile played on her face, her dimples showing. She took my hand in both hers and said to me, formally, “Thank you for inviting me to your home. Now can we please have some wine?” We both laughed, easing the tension even more. I played some old soul for her, The Delfonics (Lying To Myself – what a track! Just so that you know I discovered them while watching Quentin Tarantino’s ‘Jackie Brown’ and I’ve been seriously hooked on Soul and R&B since), and she was intrigued, never having heard soul before. We sipped her wine, the two us, unwinding shoe-by-shoe, exchanging little stories. In a lull, she suddenly said: “So how long have you been gay?” She was serious, watching me intently. I waited before answering, pondering her question. “Not long”, I said, “Only since I met you.”
She laughed happily. “Really? Am I your first?” I nodded, embarrassed at the confession because it suddenly seem real. I mean, was I gay? Me?
“I have a suggestion: lets have a bath, a slow bath with wine and candles. Let the Delfonics sing for us as we soak…what do you think?”
I nodded – a bath seemed splendid, a way of going from here to there, from clothes to skin, from smiles to touching.
While I ran the bath she lit the candles I dug up from the linen cupboard, candles that were used only for power failures, ugly things, knobby with dripped wax. I poured foam bath lotion in the tub, an unused xmas gift from another lifetime, a time I was straight, married, someone else.
As I stirred the bath I asked if she wanted it hot or warm.
“Intimate,” She said, “Close for me and close for you.”
She undressed slowly, stopping to sip her glass and I sat on the bath and watched her. I’ve seen many women undress before but none had ever undressed for me. She didn’t make it trashy, didn’t try to imitate a stripper. She took her clothes off slowly, staring at me in my eyes, holding my gaze, caressing me almost. She was beautiful in that soft light, lit by nine candles, all shadows and nuances and lithe movements. From the lounge the Delfonics sang “Somebody Loves You Girl” and it was almost as if they were singing just for us, for Aimee and Andrea.
I stood up to undress and she came to me, naked, lovely, a vision. She put her arms around me and we kissed. I didn’t know what to expect so I was passive in the kiss, you know, like when a man kisses you. She was soft, her lips were full and soft, gentle. I felt her tongue slide slowly into my mouth, her wet, soft, probing tongue. There was no demand in the kiss, no urgency, it felt like love should feel, soft, tender, gentle, giving. I melted, I felt tears in my eyes, I was crying with happiness. I hugged her, I was grateful, I cried. We stood there, holding each other, she whispering soothingly into my ears, stroking my hair while I sobbed. Strange, hey, don’t you think? It was one of the lovely moments in my life and it made me feel like the first time I held Chad, scrunched-up Chad, exhausted by the effort being borne, cross and angry with being born and it all just felt so right. It did not need to make sense or require explanation or reason. It just felt right, like something good had happened.
After a while I stood there, still crying, while she undressed me and all I could do was touch her face, saying thank you, thank you, thank you. She had tears in her eyes too and I still don’t know why. We sank into the water then, holding our glasses, our legs intertwining wetly. We didn’t speak, we luxuriated, at this time Teddy Pendergrass singing “Now tell me
that you love me.” Lovely, beautiful, sexy and soulful.
We exchanged more small secrets in the bath. She told me about her first time, how she discovered she was gay. When she was twelve, she and her best friend practised French kissing on each other so that when a boy kissed them they would be ready. She enjoyed kissing her friend so much that she continued ‘practising’ until her friend become suspicious, poor thing, and
Andrea has not looked back since. She giggled girlishly as she told me this story, so innocent, so life changing. She had sex with a guy once, at one of those varsity drinking parties. She was sloshed but not so much that she didn’t know what she was doing. This guy had been pursuing her and she been growing all the more curious about hetero sex. That night, after dancing,
drinking and flirting she went all the way.
It was awful, she said, messy, rough, rapid as if there was a need to get it over with. He hurt her, not because he was big but she was dry, tight, and apprehensive. All the while as we talked, we sipped wine, listened to Teddy sing, slid slick legs over each other, touched skin. She leaned over, whispered intimately to me, told me she wanted a kiss. So did I, badly, because of the setting; the wine, the music, the sight of her rosebud nipple being an island in the foam was all turning me on.
We kissed softly; I tasted her mouth, tasted wine, warm like a summer afternoon. As our kisses became more ardent, we started fondling each other’s breasts. Hers were perfect handfuls, soft, yielding, her nipples hard. She licked mine and I watched her tongue circle my nipple, teasing, making it stand, eager for more licking. We stood up and I felt her hand slide over smoothly over my belly, burying itself between my legs in the foam and the puss juice. Her finger teased my clit and I reached for her pussy, both of us standing in the bath now, and I felt that she had a generous, fleshy, soft puss.
“Wait,” she said, “before we go further.can I shave you?” She asked so gently and I must admit that I was a little surprised. I had trimmed my bush that morning; making sure that my bikini Mohawk was neat and presentable, anticipating her touch. I nodded and sat down at the back of the bath. She spread my legs and knelt in the water.
After lathering me sensually, she took the razor and gently shaved me bare, bald and smooth. She rinsed the shaving cream off my pussy and my mound stood proud, shiny, new. My clit protruded from my pussy, sticking out like a volunteer.
“Oh Aimee, you are beautiful,” she sighed softly as she lowered her head to lick me. She ran her tongue gently over my clit, teasing it, circling it like a predator, hunting it. She licked my lips, first the outer ones, making me ache with want, and then dipping into the inner ones, gently prying my pussy open, spreading me with lip and tongue, reaching into me with her wet, teasing tongue. She built me up slowly, me holding her head and rocking gently to fuck her tongue, me moaning while she stroked me, the urgency building slowly. I had been tongued before, and enjoyed it, but nothing compared to this ecstasy of Andrea.
She knew how to guide me, how to make me want her more, wanting to come but not wanting it to be over. I could feel my orgasm building deep inside me somewhere and Andrea sensed it too. She slid a finger into me and took my clit into her mouth and sucked it between her lips, the tip of her tongue dancing on the tip of my clit. She sucked harder, deeper and I came
explosively, my puss shuddering and throbbing, clenching her sliding finger. I almost slid off the back of the bath, my one leg splashing into the water, drenching Andrea.
“Wow, oh wow,” I mumbled, “that was fantastic, amazing.let me do you now.”
“No,” she said, “do me this way.” We both stood and she put her arms around me. “Finger fuck me while we kiss.” As I reached down for her pussy, I was once again struck by how fleshy it was, soft with lots of folds. As I kissed her wet mouth I fingered her swollen clit, rubbed it between my fingers. She moaned softly, and spread her legs wider. I slid a finger into her and was surprised that she was so small inside, tight, a narrow opening to her cunt. Then I remembered that she only once had a cock in there and that it was a small thin one. She was slick and well lubricated and myfinger moved rhythmically in and out her, my thumb rotating on her large clit. “Yes, baby, do that to me.” She mumbled into my mouth, erotic, intimate. She started rocking on my hand, fucking my finger, faster and faster. “Deeper,” she said, “Finger me deeper.” And I did, forcing my middle finger all the way in to the top of inner cunt.
She came them, rocking wildly, her hips thrashing vigorously on my hand. Icould feel her cunt spasm on my finger, delicious tight clenches like a velvet fist.
We lay in the bath a little more after that, drinking and listening to Blue Velvet sing “Walk Up To The Sun”. The music was so fitting, so romantic, I felt languid and I listened to her voice caress me I wondered how I had come to this so rapidly and so comfortably.
“What made you notice me at Nino’s?” I asked, having being curious about this for a while, “What made you think I was interested? I mean, I have never before looked at another woman..” She smiled.
“You’re sexy, pretty and you have a nice body. I also saw how you were looking at my legs, my tits, the way a guy looks at a woman. And there was just something in your eyes, something that told me I had met a kindred spirit. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t try and screw every gay woman I meet – look at Debbie, my friend at RAU, she’s nuts about me but we don’t do anything. I liked you from the first, you know, clicked with you on a level that is rare. I knew you’d come back for me and I’m so glad you did.” I loved that, her honesty, so frank, so disarming, so engaging.
“Lets get something to eat before we get pissed – there’s still another bottle for us to drink!” I said and she laughed.
We towelled each other off and got dressed.
“Can we go to Melville, to Steers? Some of my varsity crowd will be there and I want to set the record straight?”
“Sure,” I said, not at all sure what she meant, “Anything you like.”
We held hands as I drove, in between changing gears, touching each other. She spoke about her hopes for the future, wanting to do her honours in Industrial Psychology and maybe going on to do her masters.
“Will you do your honours at RAU?”, I asked, asking another question altogether.
She knew which question I was asking and answered gently.
“I don’t know baby, maybe. I have to get accepted first and I have already applied to UCT as well. I made a deal with my parents to let me come up here – a long story, involves a broken relationship – but I did promise to go home after my bachelors.” She squeezed my fingers. Why didn’t I meet her sooner? Why now, with a day to go before she flew home.
Life, I thought, this is how life is. I knew that we didn’t know each other well enough to make plans for the future and we did not have enough time to do so.
When we reach Melville I was surprised at how busy and vibey the place was. I found parking eventually and we walked to Steers. Andrea took my hand and held it and I was felt unsure. Like this? In public? I was shocked but didn’t show it. A few people greeted her when we walked and I could see some were elbowing their friends. We ordered hamburgers, trying look nonchalant. She put her arm around me and I thought, what the hell, in for a penny and all that and I held her back. She leaned over and whispered to me.
“Aimee, baby, please kiss me.” I was dazed, operating on autopilot. In a blur I leaned forward and took her face in my hands, a thumb in each dimple and kissed her. I was surprised at how ardently she kissed back. A hush fell around us and I heard cries like “I knew she was a dyke”, “Wow, look at those lezzies” and “I wish someone could kiss me like that.” And then the most surprising thing of all – everyone started clapping!
We looked around us, trying to be cool, in control but my heart was racing. When the black girl gave us our order she said, “You go girls!” Laughing we swept out, I felt free, powerful – lezzies of the world unite!
In the street Andrea turned to me and said “Thank you making this real, for making me real.” I still don’t fully understand that but I loved her for that broad open smile on her face.
We couldn’t keep our hands off each other after that, even when we were eating, feeding each other and touching. Always touching, hands, face, and arms – we couldn’t stop.
I put another set of CDs in the carousel – The Stylistics, Aaron Neville, Debra Cox and The Manhattans. More soul, more love. I’ve often played this music, wanting a setting like this. Derek couldn’t stand soul – he wanted the Cranberries, Brian Adams, stuff I thought were sterile.
When we finished our burgers we raced for the bedroom.
No decorum now, no trying to be cool. We almost ripped our clothing off and we fell on each greedily, hungrily. I loved kissing her; I loved the fact that I re-discovered this exotic pleasure, so long taken for granted. I sucked and licked her tits; I probed her fat puss with my fingers.
She was exploring me too, squeezing, grabbing my butt, and stroking my cunt.
“Andrea, sweet, can I go down on you now? Please? Can I taste you?’ I was breathless, reckless and I had to get my greedy mouth on that swollen pussy.
“Yes, baby, yes – eat me, make me yours.” Her eyes were hooded, her voice low and husky. She lay back, settled herself in and parted her legs and raised her knees.
“Look at my puss, baby, see how fat it is. Look how swollen and ready I am for you. Take me, eat me.” With that she pulled my head down and I looked at her cunt. From close up it looked divine. I had always thought pussies were ugly, badly designed. But as I stared at her I saw how beautiful her cunt was – fat, genuinely plump, both her inner lips and outer lips were big. Her clit, too, was big, like a small tiny finger. She was wet, her folds glistened, and they were slick. I loved her pussy, so full, so ripe. I fell upon it; all thoughts of being gentle and slow were gone. I remember I thought I would copy her technique but as I went at her I developed my own. My first pussy meal was gorgeous!
I licked and I sucked. I took her clit into my mouth and I managed to suck like I was giving a blowjob. She bucked beneath me, groaned, holding my head and sliding her pussy up and down on my face, fucking my mouth, my lips, my nose. I stuck my tongue out, made it stiff as I could and she jammed her clit on to it. “Oh Aimee, baby, fuck me and make me your bitch!” She babbled as I licked her. With one hand I squeezed her tits, alternating between the two. With my other I jammed a finger into her inner cunt and clamped her clit with my lips, sucking it hard. She rode me harder, fucked my face with bigger thrusts, smearing me with her copious slick puss juice. I jammed my finger into her, deep, and sucked her clit even harder. She came then, heaving and bucking, her hips high off the bed, her fingers entwined in my hair as pulled my face even deeper into her cunt. She was shrieking, calling my name and her puss was clenching with each throbbing spasm. As she was subsiding and I was running out of breath, I gave her clit a last, lingering suck and she bucked once more.
“I am yours, baby, I am yours..”
I sat up and admired her body as she lay there, her tits heaving as she struggled to get her breath back. From the lounge the Stylistics were singing You Make Me Feel Brand New, rather appropriately. I stroked myself, my own pussy was dripping and I spread my cunt juice all over between my legs. I started working on my clit, stroking it.
“Don’t do that, Aimee baby, don’t do that. Give me a sec to get my breath back and I’ll do that for you.”
So I lay next to her, running my hands over her high tits, over her smooth, flat belly. A while later she propped herself on one elbow and started kissing me and fingering me. I spread myself wide to give her complete access, to allow her to reach my pussy, to reach into me.
She worked me well, pulling my clit, teasing it. She put a finger into my cunt, first one and then another, reaching deep into me. Without taking them out she started moving her finger tips in a circular motion, rubbing a place in the front of my cunt. The pleasure this gave me was shocking and I held my breath. She sucked my tongue, pulling it out of my mouth and slipping her lips over it, like it was dick. As she massaged my inner puss, she sucked my tongue, faster and faster. I could feel my orgasm building instantly, but from deep within me, like I never felt before. Before I could warn her, my puss went into orgasmic spasm, hard till it almost hurt, deep and hard like a clenching fist, clamping her fingers. I couldn’t breathe as I came, my
body bouncing off the bed and an intense burst of pleasure spreading from my puss and then all over my body. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t talk so I surrendered to the power of my coming as it wracked my body and twisted it and bounced it.
I don’t remember much after that. I know I heard Debra Cox singing Nobody Is Supposed To Be Here – yeah right, but I was exhausted. As I fell asleep – or passed out – I remember wondering if she had hit my G-spot. Did she? Where did that mother of all orgasms come from..and I was gone.
I awoke early the next morning and I could see by the quality of the light that it was probably about 6 or 6:30 and Andrea, bless her soul, was busy with me yet again. Oh no, I thought, its morning and the craziness of last night cannot extend into the soberness of the new day. I was lying on my tummy, my legs were splayed and I could sense that she was squatting between
them. Her tongue was slowly travelling up the groove between my butt cheeks, tenderly leaving butterfly kisses. Not my butt, oh God, not my butt!
And so it was: she licked me in that secret groove, letting her tongue go up and down, lingering over my bum-hole, teasing and pressuring it gently. I was too self-conscious to move, never having been touched like this by anyone before. She continued licking me there and then she slid a finger into my cunt. I moved to allow her easier entry ands he said, “Aimee, my love, my baby, lay there and let me enjoy you..” I could feel her warm breath on my skin as she spoke and I obeyed her. I didn’t speak and I didn’t move again.
She licked me like that, eventually settling on actually sucking the butt-hole and finger-fucking me. I was dripping again, swollen again and I knew my orgasm was close. She was an intuitive lover and she sensed it too. She increased the pace and as I started coming she took another finger and gently penetrated my bum. It was wonderful – the feel of both her fingers in my holes was nothing I had ever felt before. My puss spasmed deliciously and I could feel my butt tighten on her finger with each throb. As I gained my breath I knew that it was her turn but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do for her what she did for me. But I would try, I would give of myself as she had given for me. I turned over and braced myself.
“Thank you,” I said, “Thank you that – it was wonderful. Can I do that for you?”
“No angel, no: I want you to watch me – I’ll play with myself but I need you to look. Will you?” Her voice was soft, understanding, and I marvelled at such maturity in one so young. I nodded and settled against the headboard to watch her.
She sat on the bed and raised her knees and parted her legs. In the brighter morning light her pussy looked even bigger. It was glistening, the folds between her big fat outer lips were wet. Her clit was swollen too, and she parted the outer lips so that I could see the light pink colouring of her inner pussy. She took her clit between two fingers, as if it were a tiny dick, and masturbated it while she held her cunt open. She half-closed her eyes and steadily stroked her clit.
“Oh Aimee – see what you do to me baby. Look how you make me big and swollen.” Her voice was low again, sexy and husky.
“Can I help, my sweet, can I hold your pussy open while you fuck yourself?” I was surprised at how husky I sounded, how dry my throat was. She nodded.
I leaned forward and took each of the inner lips in my hands and gently pulled them apart. They were soft and elastic and as I spread them I could see her cunt juice gathering at her pussy opening. Her finger dipped into it she rubbed it in a circular motion on her clit. Now that I leaned forward I could see that her clit actually looked like a miniature dick, especially with the hood pulled off it. She stroked faster and faster and I had difficulty in keeping her cunt open. “Look at me,” she said, her voice erratic, “look in my eyes.” I looked at her and she was the picture of erotica: her pert tits quivering, her eyes were glazed, her mouth open and her finger fucking her clit furiously. She took her finger, scooped some puss juice from her cunt and put in my mouth. “Taste me, eat me,” she moaned and I sucked her finger. She came then, saying “Ooooh Aimee baby!” and she thrust her hips forward onto her hand.
She collapsed on to the bed, a quivering gasping heap and I stroked her hair, muttering sweet nothings. We lay together for a while, the smell of our sex fragrancing the air, holding each other and stroking each other. We got up later and made a salad breakfast that we ate on my patio in the spring morning, crisp and fresh. We spoke of children, of family, work and friends.
When she was ready to go back to RAU, she reached into her sling bag and gave me a wrapped up parcel.
“A prezzie for you,” she smiled, “to open when you get back.”
“But I didn’t get anything for you.” I protested.
She smiled. “Oh yes, you did baby, you gave me your cherry – the best present I could ever receive.” I hugged her, feeling in love like never before.
As we drove she looked animated, happy and buoyant. She babbled about finally finishing the long haul at RAU, about endings, about beginnings. I felt a sadness creeping over me, stealing into my glow.
We said goodbye briefly, which surprised me. We stood at my car and hugged. She said “Look after yourself, baby, be careful.” She kissed me quickly and was gone. I watched her walk off, a spring in her step, this lively, sensitive 21 year-old. Dear, sweet, sensitive Andrea. Sexy Andrea. She reached a corner, turned it without looking back and was gone.
Just like that.
We still speak occasionally but less and less as time goes by. There is distance between us now, greater than the one between Cape Town and Johannesburg. I wonder if she has someone new or if she re-united with an ex. I could have loved her, I know, as I loved her that precious, unforgettable night.
As for me, am I gay? Lesbian? I still don’t know because I have this confusing thing with Derek. He senses a new purpose in me, a new growth. I enjoy sex with him though, even if it doesn’t begin to approach the dynamite that is Andrea and Aimee. I still look at men, admire their butts but I look at women differently now.
There are some other things I’ve already done since then – and I’m still going to experiment with life, still get to know the adventurous Aimee that lies within. Bring her out, let her live, give her a chance she never had before.
And the prezzie Andrea gave me? Why, it’s her Nino’s T-shirt, of course. A lovely forest green T-shirt with Nino’s emblazoned in white on the pocket. I cherish it, wear it when I miss her so it feels like I’m hugging her. It smells of her, husky, sexy, sensitive Andrea.
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