Andy makes a decision.
I had shaved myself since our first date, in anticipation of this very moment.
"You're beautiful," he said right before his tongue ran from the bottom of my vagina to the top, barely touching my clit.
I nearly screamed with lust.
I looked deep into his eyes, mouth wide open, as his tongue pushed inside me. God, he was good. His tongue explored, gently finding the spots that made me squirm. He sucked me into his mouth. He tongue-fucked me. He tongue skimmed that spot no one had ever touched -- so dirty, but fuck, it felt incredible. Finally, my clit was in his mouth. His tongue danced on it, soft, hard, quick, slow, teasing. My eyes closed. Suddenly a finger was making its way inside my tight hole. I screamed this time.
"FUCK, Jake," I said. "Don't stop, babe."
He kept pushing it into me, and expertly, pressed the flat side of the tip of his index against the top of my vagina, hitting what I assumed was my G-spot, while his tongue expertly worked my clit. I was in danger of coming, and coming fast.
"Fuck, fuck, GOD, that feels good, Jake, please don't stop."
He didn't. He pushed me harder and harder, faster and faster. Jesus Christ. In a blinding light, I felt my entire body convulse as I came all over his mouth. I shook and shook. I felt my pussy -- fuck I said it -- contracting around his eager finger. I was breathless. My screams kept echoing in my ears. The entire room smelled of my juices. And Jake was looking at me with the biggest grin on his face. I was so lost in his eyes that not only did I not notice he had removed his underwear, but his hard dick rested against my wet center.
"I'm going to make love to you now." That would have been the cheesiest line with anyone else, but all I could do was nod eagerly.
And he certainly did, I smiled to myself. I must've had seven orgasms that night under the care of his expert tongue, fingers, and penis. I looked over at the clock. 5:00 AM. Jake was fast asleep next to me still, despite the fact that my room smelled like it did a year ago when he first made love to me and I'd been idly touching myself as I remembered our first times together. I was wide-awake and severely horny. I thought about waking Jake, but he had been exhausted last night from school and work that I figured he needed the sleep. With the burning need to come not going anywhere anytime soon, I crawled out of bed and went out into the living room. It was a bit chilly with only my red silk nightie on.
I opened up my computer, a bit hesitant about what I was about to do. But I needed to satisfy myself or I would never get back to sleep. I briefly wondered what Jake would think. I always tell him when he's away that I think about him when I masturbate. And while that's generally true, I do like variety. This would be more than just some fantasy in my mind, but the curiosity was killing me. There must be a reason I'm having these dreams. Am I turned on because it's simply a sex dream? Or am I turned on because I'm? I shook my head before I could finish the thought. Even thinking it made me uncomfortable.
"Because I'm bisexual," I whispered. My stomach felt a bit queasy.
I went to Google, and an old memory hit me. I was in middle school. Midst of puberty. I spent a lot of time watching TV, and I remembered now, like some old repressed thought, the first time I'd ever thought about another girl in a sexual way. It was mostly an innocent thought, then, but I remembered feeling hot when I watched two of the female characters on my favorite television show make-out. It was so sensual, and no boy had yet to kiss me like that. Then, like good cable television, it was promptly over. And I never thought about it again, except when randy teenage boys would ask if my friends and I would make out for them, and we would demurely say no.
I typed the show's name and the names of the characters and the word kiss and clicked enter.