We had been drinking and talking for the last half hour. I don’t know if it was Amy’s hand on my thigh, or Tyler’s prolonged stare in a bit of extended silence, but I knew we had hit the fork in the road.
No longer could we pretend that we were three friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while just catching up on this and that. The true purpose of our matching those months ago, and that first evening out, and tonight, suddenly demanded our collective attention.
The light had waned outside, but the mood in the living room only intensified. The mild tingling of the prosecco kicked in, and I felt overcome with lust and longing for the two incredibly sexy individuals I shared the room with.
I was at a crux in my life. This was where two roads diverged.
One path took me towards the comfort and safety of everything I had ever known. It meant a life tamed and metered. This path led me towards my deeply religious, evangelical upbringing that I did not always agree with, but was firmly lodged in the recesses of my core. This path told me that everything I wanted in this moment was wrong. Pre-martial sex was wrong. Group sex was wrong. Group sex with married individuals was wrong. Sex with a woman was wrong.
The other path careened me down a road bursting with liberation and pleasure. This road made no judgments. In fact, it whispered to me that I was no less a “good” human being or Christian for exploring my sexuality and indulging in the delights of sex. How could that which gives me pleasure be wrong?
This road told me that I was exactly where I needed to be.
I decided I would listen to the latter. I wanted to enjoy my life. I wanted to look back with minimal regrets. I didn’t want to spend my older years, when I no longer inhabited the body that I did, on what I should have done when I had the vitality. I simply wanted to do it. And now was the time.
“We’ve never done this before,” Amy said, suddenly nervously. She had come to the same conclusion as I, it was now or never.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what to do,” her eyes flickered over the table to Tyler, searching for an answer. Characteristically stoic, Tyler didn’t say a word or make a move. Though I had only known the pair a short while, I could sense the intentionality behind his actions. This was him allowing Amy and I to take the lead. I figured he wanted us to be comfortable, and it only made me appreciate him more.
Through the buzz of the prosecco, I could see Amy mentally steel herself.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I breathed. I’m not sure if I had ever wanted anything more.
Amy slid closer on the couch, until her full pink lips were inches from mine. My heart was threatening to abscond my chest as she moved in to close the gap between us.
It’s happening. I’m seriously about to kiss a woman.
One of her hands came up to gently cup my face, while the other snaked around my waist. The pad of her thumb ran across my bottom lip, and another erotic jolt course through me.
Then, her lips were on mine, and my mind quieted. I thought of nothing except the sensation of her lips pressing into me. It was true, the shared difference between women and men’s kisses. Amy’s lips were soft and sweet.
We exchanged a few velvet kisses, intermittently pulling back to bashfully smile at each other. After a moment of tender exchanges, Amy’s hand gripped my waist, her hand digging into my soft flesh. I involuntarily moaned into her mouth and deepened our kiss. I let my tongue find the tip of hers and flick against it while my hand wrapped around her neck. Our tongues collided as our French kissing gained heat and fervor. I felt her hand on my face, my waist, my arms, anywhere she could touch. Her breathing amplified and small moans of pleasure slipped from my lips.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” she whispered as she pulled back, “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment we met."
I moaned again as she made her way into the curve of my neck, kissing and nibbling. As she continued kissing and nipping, I gradually lost control of my faculties. I was only faintly aware that the left strap of my dress had fallen, and that the bottom half of the dress had altogether hitched up to the middle of my thigh.
I’m so turned on right now. What is going on?
Amy continued to press into me until we fell back onto the couch, her on top of me and between my thighs. We continued to kiss and her hands voyaged across my body, making their way to my thighs, my stomach, and then lingering on my chest, cupping my breasts over the fabric.
She broke away, panting, and looked towards me.
“Can I?”
I nodded without hesitation, knowing what she was asking and knowing how much I craved her touch. She flashed a captivating smile: her dirty blonde hair loose from its bun, and her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful.
I felt the straps of my dress meet my elbows. My entire torso was exposed, and a chill ran through me. I was keenly aware it had nothing to do with the cool air flowing through the house.
I looked downwards and watched as Amy’s hands slipped over my soft, flat stomach. She spent a second on each breast, palming them over my bra and rubbing her thumb over each nipple. My nipples quickly hardened, aching to be released.
I looked up at Amy, expectant, but she only kept smiling and rubbing her thumbs over the material. Her teasing left me clutching my thighs together as I grew wetter and wetter.
“Please,” I gasped.
“Please what? Tell me what you want,” she commanded, a new authoritativeness coloring her tenor.
“Please, I need your mouth,” I begged, easily falling into the submissive role. It was comfortable for me. I preferred to be led.
She smiled, and like agonizing molasses being poured from the jar, slowly pulled down the straps of my bra. Her fingers left a tingling sensation in their wake. Instead of pulling it down entirely, she leaned forward and planted soft kisses on the tops of my right breast. As she kissed my left tit, she peeked up at me and pulled the cup down, revealing my hard cocoa-brown nipple to the air.
Still, she denied me the pleasure of her mouth. Instead, she kissed until she got closer to my brown areola and almost languidly licked around it. I moaned and my hips jolted upwards into hers.
Clearly, this is not her first time with a woman.
"Please, Amy,” I begged once more, yearning to be touched. It had felt like a millennium since I had been intimate, and I felt starved for it.
She finally acquiesced and closed her lips around my nipple. Her tongue rapidly flicked over it back and forth, back and forth, while my breaths came out in shallow spurts. She continued licking my nipple with intervals of sucking and nibbling.
Again, I moaned, this time deeply, as she yanked down the other cup with a zeal that showed me she was just as turned on by her passionate foreplay as I was. Without skipping a beat, she moved onto my other breast, latching on to suckle and lick while she rolled my left nipple in her hand, causing it to become even harder from the stimulation and sudden cool air.
Without warning, she leaned back, taking her hot, wet mouth off my nipple. She didn’t say a word as she gripped both nipples in her hands and pulled them upwards. My back automatically arched in response.
I had my eyes firmly closed the entire time she had been playing with my tits and when I opened them, I found her blue eyes firmly fixed on me.
“Did you like that?” She asked coyly. A redundant question, if any, especially given the increasing moisture and heat between my legs. She pinched my nipples again to slightly lift my breasts, keeping a staccato where she pinched and released.
“Yes,” I whispered, it was almost a whimper.
“What else do you want me to do to you, my gorgeous girl? You look so pretty from here.”
I didn’t know how to respond, I wasn’t always the best at communicating my needs, especially in the moment. It was part of the reason I had decided to match with a couple in the first place. I wanted to explore and grow in my sexuality.
“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” I replied, determined to be a more confident woman.
Amy continued pulling my nipples tightly while her hips began grinding her hips against mine, causing an electric shock to shoot through my body. She positioned herself so her movements brushed against my clit. It was driving me crazy.
“I want to taste you,” she said, “I want to lick your pussy until you scream.”
Oh my God!