Samesex/1storgsm.ff
                                      Christie
                               First Orgasm (Lesbian)
                       It had been a fairly interesting evening. Although I don't
                  much go for bars of any description, I do like to play pool, and
                  on Wednesday night we had the pool tournament down at the Other
                Place (silly name for a gay bar, but I've seen worse). For the past
                 several weeks, I had won easily, although there was much amazement
                 at my technique... I came an hour early, bought a pitcher of beer,
                  listened to music and drank. Then, just before the tournament, I
                bought _another_ pitcher, played two practice games, and then I was
                  ready. Every week, the other entrants all looked for me to be an
                   easy mark with that much alcohol inside me. And every week the
                  alcohol loosened up my hyper-analytical personality, letting me
                 relax, keeping me from doing mechanics calculations prior to each
                   shot, and let me sink any shot I called out to the amused and
                 amazed on-lookers. This week was the same, and I was in the final
                  best-of-three games in the last round, playing against the final
                            challenger to see who would get the prize. 
                      She'd introduced herself as we met over the table, saying her
                 name was Kim. She was an attractive woman, maybe an inch under six
                feet unshod, just a bit over in the ropers she was wearing. She had
                 golden blonde hair, eyes so green that tawdry words like "emerald"
                  couldn't do them justice, a beautiful, smart-ass grin, and what
                 seemed to be a very well-made body in those tight Wrangler jeans.
                  I did all the cataloguing somewhere in the back of my head, as I
                  watched her racking the balls on the velvet; she grinned as she
                 took the rack away, twirling it between her fingers as it cleared
                 the tops of the balls.  Now I was tipsy enough still not to be too
                 tight, but even so I could feel the tension as I poised myself to
                  break. An observer looking at me would have seen a fairly pretty
                but intent woman, clad in the standard uniform for the Other Place:
                 jeans, boots, tight T-shirt. I was bent over the end of the table,
                 the round curves of my ass emphasized by the tight denim jeans, my
                  blue eyes intent on the table before me. I brushed my long, ash-
                 blonde hair away from my face, placed the cue just so, set myself,
                   and uncoiled through the place where the white ball had been a
                   moment earlier. My break was unorthodox and even a bit silly-
                 looking, but I got the balls well-scattered, and two dropped. This
                   would be a good game, the magic was all in place. My opponent
                   brushed against my hip as I rounded the table, an accidental 
                 contact as she stepped out of my way, letting me take my place for
                 my next shot. "Nice break!" she told me, flashing a mega-watt grin
                 my way. I hardly noticed, other than to smile back before shooting
                 again. This time I couldn't make the pocket, and I stood aside to
                    watch the other woman play. What was her name? Oh yes, Kim.
                         The grin she had worn before was gone as she carefully
                considered the table from all sides. She was intent and methodical,
                   carefully setting up her shot, checking the angle, and finally
                    sinking the ball in such a fluid, graceful motion that I was
                 momentarily amazed that a human body should move so smoothly. She
                  shot again, and again, and I began to wonder if I'd get another
                  chance, until at last she missed, and I had another opportunity.
                 It was easier this time, as she'd gotten several of her balls out
                   of the way: eventually I missed a shot again. We went back and
                 forth over that game, which I won by just a hair... that being the
                  distance she'd been off when she'd shot at the eight and missed.
                 The second and third games were much the same, and when it was all
                 over, I had won numbers one and three, I had a twenty-five dollar
                 bar tab as my prize, while she had ten. "Care to drink one on me?"
                   I asked her, indicating the pitcher-full of amber liquid. She
                  grinned and agreed, and we took ourselves over to a table at the
                   side of the room. We tried briefly to talk, but as soon as the
                      tournament was through, the owner cranked up the music,
                   substituting disco with a heavy bass line for the country and
                 western that they tended to play for "us girls." It was after ten
                now, and the guys were starting to come in: in another hour, they'd
                have the place pretty much to themselves. It was impossible to make
                  ourselves heard over the too-loud music, so we drank and watched
                 others in companionable silence. Finally, I asked if she'd like to
                 head over to Denny's for some coffee and a chance to talk, and she
                 shouted her agreement over the music. We escaped outside into the
                                         cool, quiet dark.
                      When our ears quit ringing, she made a counter-suggestion. It
                   was late, she'd be disturbing the people she lived with if she
                traipsed in at this hour, and how about if she crashed at my house,
                 and took me for coffee in the morning? I thought the idea sounded
                  wonderful, and told her that my sister was out of town, so I had
                  an extra bed, freshly made up, and that I'd be glad to have her
                  stay over. She followed me the few miles to my home, and we went
                 inside. We talked for an hour or two, sipping rich, dark, imported
                 ales that seemed almost sweet after the American brews at the bar.
                  We talked about inconsequential things, she telling me about her
                 job on campus, and me explaining to her that I was a student, and
                  so on. We were almost exactly the same age, as I'd just recently
                  gone back to school, our families came from the same part of the
                 state, and we were from from similar types of families. Eventually
                  we headed upstairs, where I showed her to the master bedroom. "I
                 hate to mess up your sister's bed," she said to me, "and I see you
                  have a kingsize. How about if I just sleep on the other side of
                 your bed? You don't mind, do you?" I thought nothing about it, and
                 told her that that would certainly be all right with me. I showed
                her my drawer-full of T-shirts and assorted nightwear, and told her
                   to help herself while I took a quick shower to relax after the
                             tension generated by the over-loud music.
                      When I came back to my room, relaxed and dressed in a crisp,
                  clean, oversized men's oxford shirt, she was already in bed with
                   the covers pulled up under her chin. I got the lights out, and
                crawled in with her. "Do you mind if I snuggle up next to you?" she
                  asked. "I'll do it after I'm asleep anyway." This was not quite-
                 so-standard in the "slumber-party/girls-sleeping-over" model I had
                   in my head, but I readily acquiesced. This lady was beautiful
                  enough to be a professional model, she had a wonderful, innocent
                air to her, and I was being ridiculous to even suspect that she was
                  coming on to me at all. I told her of course that would be fine,
                  and so she eeled over against me where I lay on my back, draping
                   her right arm across my waist, her right leg over my leg, and
                   pillowing her head in the hollow of my shoulder. My heart was
                 definitely beating a bit faster than usual, but I tried to relax,
                 shut my eyes, and go to sleep. "Do not," I sternly warned myself,
                 "even think that this woman is interested in you! You'll piss her
                 off if you suggest it and possibly ruin what could be a very nice
                friendship!" The internal lecture was in full swing, when she began
                 stroking her fingers down my side, back again over my ribs, across
                   my breast, and down again. I groaned silently, hoping that she
                  wouldn't notice my tension or arousal... "She said she wanted to
                cuddle, she's half asleep, you are NOT going to respond to this and
                 scare her off!" I told myself angrily. "She doesn't even know you!
                 You're being ridiculous!" I told myself. But her hand continued ts
                teasing glide over my body, and every few minutes her fingers would
                 trail across one hardened nipple, driving me mad with the electric
                  jolt of arousal that shot straight into the growing warmth in my
                 loins each time she did it. Finally I caught her hand with my own.
                 She looked up at me with an inquisitive look. Hoarsely I told her,
                    "If you keep that up, you're going to be in trouble..." Her
                 answering grin could have lit the football stadium, "Maybe I want
                                         to be in trouble!"
                     I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. "Oh." was all
                I could manage, and now her teasing fingers had started unbuttoning
                my shirt, and she was sitting up, looking down at me, all the while
                   grinning in obvious pleasure. It wasn't that I thought myself
                  unattractive, mind you, that had caused me to be so slow on the
                    uptake. It was simply that she was so utterly beautiful and
                  graceful, I felt like a mortal honored unduly with the prescence
                 of a goddess. And right now that goddess was stroking tight little
                 circles around my nipples, causing them to crinkle down into hard
                  peaks, which her fingers rubbed and tweaked and pulled. I don't
                  think I have ever been so aroused, before or since. I pulled her
                  down to me, meeting her lips with mine, and kissing her was like
                  drinking honey wine; sweet, intoxicating. In my single previous
                  affair with a woman, I was usually the one who took the lead in
                    sex, and that old girlfriend had always encouraged me in the
                   "butch" role. But when I tried to take the initiative now, Kim
                 pressed me back against the bed, telling me that I was to lay back
                and enjoy what she was doing. It felt, well, indescribably sensual.
                 Having her make love to me this way made me feel utterly feminine,
                 in a way that making love to men, or even another woman never had,
                                     and I loved the feeling. 
                       She undressed me, making me lift my hips so that she could
                 slide my panties down over my ass, then leaned down and kissed me,
                  pulling me up with her into a soft embrace as she slid the shirt
                 back off my shoulders. The velvet softness of her breasts against
                    mine was unabashedly sensuous. My arms were around her now,
                 stroking her back and sides while our lips stayed locked togethr,
                 our tongues battling silently in their own satin caress. Before I
                   could try and tease her out of her clothes, she pushed my back
                  again against the pillows, and kissed me softly on the lips, the
                 cheek, nibbled at my earlobe a moment, then outlined the ear with
                 her hot, wet tongue. I moaned again, as her hands continued doing
                  wicked and wonderful things to my nipples and her tongue traced
                intricate patterns along the soft skin of my throat, dwelt a moment
                in the hollow betwen my collar bones. Soon her lips fastened on one
                   hard nipple, though the other was not neglected either, being
                   rolled between her long, stong fingers. Her tongue, which had
                  seemed so soft against my own while we were kising, now became a
                 hard, demanding instrument, flickering in fast circles around the
                   nipple, tracing the aureola, her lips nibbling the hard peak,
                sucking gently then firmly. My world narrowed under this treatment,
                 focusing only on the sensations from my nipples and the answering
                   twinges between my legs. I felt helpless, empowered, exalted,
                                      abashed, wanton, shy... 
                      My breath was coming in hash, ragged gasps, and I could hear
                   myself moaning as I neared orgasm solely from the wonderfully
                  wicked things she was doing to my breasts. She was well aware of
                   my situation, though, and suddenly the air was cold on my wet
                 nipples, and her warm lips were seeking their way down the arch of
                my ribs, across my sides (ticklish.

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.. she grinned me another wicked
                    grin), then planted a kiss above the triangle of Venus. She
                   wordlessly encouraged me to pull my knees up, as she stationed
                 herself between my legs. Her voice was a bit ragged, too, when she
                 instructed me to reach down and part the wet folds for her tongue.
                  A shock of pleasure rocked my body as her lips softly touched my
                 clitoris is a gentle kiss. She bent her head, just teasing with he
                  tip of her tongue, dipping first deep into my well, then running
                  it up along the slit, meeting my clitoris again. Now she pressed
                 her lips tightly against me, the pressure of her kiss holding the
                    hood of my clitoris back, exposing the sensitive head to the
                 searching, flickering dance of her skilled tongue. I could feel my
                  back arching as if each touch of her tongue wound me tighter and
                  tighter, a spring coiling to a level of unbearable tension. "Let
                 me..." she whispered, pausing from the alchemy she was working to
                  look up and twine my fingers with hers, holding my hands tightly
                  above my pubis in her strong grasp, before bending her head back
                   to my center. Her strong grasp had my hands pinioned, her arms
                   encircling my hips and holding me down against the bed, while
                 licked and sucked and stroked and flickered... the orgasms started
                  very quietly, slow gentle waves of pleasure rolling through me,
                 until she let go of one hand and suddenly plunged her fingers into
                my pussy causing me to gasp, to buck, to cry out as the real orgasm
                 hit me like a tidal wave. I had time to think, confused, that I'd
                  been wrong all these years, I'd never had an orgasm, THIS was an
                      orgasm, and ohmigod, could I live through such intense,
                 overwhelming, soulstraining pleasure? I SCREAMED with the release,
                 barely hearing the noise over the pounding of my pulse in my ears,
                  and my vision started to tunnel down, greyness blacking out the
                    edges of my vision. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the
                experience. The orgasm kept happening, and each moment I was amazed
                  again as the strenth of it increased. My legs were trembling, I
                 could feel my hips moving involuntarily, restrained from out-and-
                  out bucking by the grasp of her arm around me, both of my hands
                 gripping her one like a lifeline, holding on in mingled terror and
                 exaltation. Then she took her fingers out of my pulsing cunt, just
                 for a moment, before sinking her thumb back into me... but now her
                  wet, slippery fingers were teasing my asshole, playing with the
                 tight rosebud there, until she slipped first one, then two digits
                  inside. I had never felt anything like the sensations that shot
                    through me now. She was lashing my clit with her experienced
                    tongue, her thumb and fingers were pumping in and out of me,
                simultaneously piercing both ass and cunt, and I continued to come,
                  continued to scream, I could feel tears rolling down my face, I
                      couldn't take anymore, I couldn't sustain this level of
                   stimulation... ohmigod, I can't take it, oh no, no, oh god...
                    Awareness came back to me gradually, like the quiet stealing
                 advance of dawn across the dimly lit twilight hours. I don't know
                if I actually fainted or whether my brain just couldn't process the
                  data anymore. Kim was now kissing and softly licking my clit, no
                 longer directly on the exposed head, her fingers inside me still,
                 but motionless. I could feel my muscles clench upon her fingers as
                   occasionally small waves of pleasure would ripple through me,
                    aftershocks after earthquake, the tide behind the tsunami. 
                              In a moment I would make love to her...
                 Kim pulled herself up and lay atop my body, her long legs twining
                with mine. I kissed her, putting all my heart and soul into it, the
                  taste of my own juices reminding me of the amazing feelings that
                  I'd just experienced, and causing weak aftershocks of orgasm. As
                 if she could read my mind, Kim shifted so that one of her legs was
                  between mine, applying firm pressure against my clit. I couldn't
                   keep my hips still, even though I was still trembling with the
                 exhaustion of the tremendous series of orgasms that I'd just had.
                  Each slow thrust of her hip against my cunt evoked an answering
                  orgasm, and this continued for several minutes as we kissed long
                     and passionately. I couldn't believe, even now, that this
                    wonderful, lovely woman was making love to me. My hands were
                 wandering up underneath the T-shirt she had on, stroking along her
                               sides, running softly down her back. 
                 All at once, my eyes filled with tears, and I hugged her fiercely
                so that she wouldn't see. I had had at least a dozen lovers by that
                   time, and before this I had never actually had an orgasm, even
                   though if you'd asked me an hour before, I would have told you
                 different. The experience was overwhelming, stirring emotions and
                  responses within me that I couldn't name nor define. Later I was
                to look back and see that from that transcendent moment on, I would
                  have given her my heart or soul had she asked me for it, I would
                  have died for her smile: all those melodramatic, exuberant sorts
                  of overreactions, they all applied to the way that woman made me
                                               feel.
                  As Kim returned my hug with equal strength, I was able to regain
                   my composure. With a gentle motion, I urged her onto her back
                   beside me, and started kissing at her navel and worked my way
                  slowly up her ribs. A little sly and playful nibble there proved
                    that she, too was ticklish, but I'd save tickle fighhts for
                  later... my lips continued their peregrination upwards, finally
                 finding the warm, soft swelling of her breast. I tugged her shirt
                 up over her breasts, and she helped me pull it off over her head.
                   The creamy white skin, the pale pink of her nipples stood out
                  against her golden tan. I just sat, propped up on one elbow, and
                   looked for a moment, enjoying the perfect curve of the breast,
                  watching her nipples slowly harden from some combination of the
                  cool air and the pressure of my gaze upon them. I couldn't wait
                  very long however, before lowering my lips to suck one hardened
                 nipple into my mouth, sucking, nibbling, running my tongue in slow
                circles around the hard peak, flickering across the nipple. My left
                  hand strayed over to her other breast, and stroked the underside
                of its soft swelling curve, thumb teasing the hardened pink nipple.
                   She had one arm around my shoulders, stroking my hair with the
                  other, pressing my head to her breast to indicate that I should
                 suck harder. As I complied, she gasped quietly, then let out a low
                    moan as my left hand found it way to her panties, and began
                   investigating the path within. I slid my hand inside the thin
                 cloth, and slipped first one side and then the other down past her
                 hips, exposing her loins to my questing fingers. Her hand had left
                  my hair, and she was trying without much success to free herself
                 of the minimal confinement of her panties. Regretfully, I left the
                   nipple that I had been suckling, sitting up to help her finish
                removing them. My god, but she was gorgeous! She was indeed blonde,
                and the streetlight made the curly hair gleam, droplets of moisture
                 catching little sparks of light, like diamonds glittering in a net
                 of spun gold. A shiver took me then as I looked at her, my arousal
                  mounting high again. She looked like an alabaster and chalcedony
                   statue, an idol waiting to be worshipped. This I did, kneeling
                 between her legs, kissing softly from her instep to her ankle, up
                  her leg, meeting the soft flesh of her inner thigh with my lips,
                  evoking answering shivers from her. I was teasing, delaying the
                  final homage of my lips while reeling in the heady scent of her
                   like a bee in an orchard. Finally my kisses found their way to
                their destination. I spread her tender folds to expose her wetness,
                 and very slowly lowered my lips to suckle the nectar at the center
                  of her flower. She tasted of salt and peaches, with a faint hint
                                             of honey. 
                 She let loose a deep contralto moan, one that semed to reverberate
                 in my very bones with its heavy load of sensuous arousal as I ran
                   my tongue tip from her opening to the small protrustion of her
                 hooded clit. I sank against her, kissing her open-mouthed, exactly
                 the same sort of kiss that I would have delivered mouth-to-mouth,
                   my tongue twining about and teasing her clitoris with feather-
                 light stokes. I could feel the trembling tension in her long legs
                    which she had wrapped around me. Her hands stroked my hair,
                  gradually stilling, then suddenly seizing me firmly to guide my
                 tongue all the better. She urged me on, the pressure of her hands
                 encouraging me to flicker my tongue more firmly and quickly across
                 her swollen clit. I worked my hands under us, sliding two fingers
                  deep into her open pussy. Again she let loose with that deep and
                   wrenching moan, and I could feel the goosebumps rising down my
                    spine as my own arousal edged up a notch with hers. She was
                  starting to gasp and make little mewling sounds now, and I kept
                well in rhythm with her cries as I lashed her clit with my tongue. 
                   I removed my fingers from her cunt, causing a wordless cry of
                 dismay from her, but immediately set my other hand to the task of
                  stroking her pussy. Meanwhile, the fingers of my right hand were
                 now thoroughly wet, and taking a leaf from this beautiful woman's
                  own book, I began to tease her asshole with my slippery digits,
                finally sliding a wet finger deep inside the tight opening. Now she
                 began bucking her hips wildly, driving her cunt against my mouth,
                 hands tight in my hair, thrusting hard to impale herself upon the
                 fingers which pierced her front and back. I had all I could do to
                   keep licking her hot cunt, fucking her ass and pussy with both
                  hands, and remember to occasionally breathe as well. I couldn't
                control my own aroused reaction, and I was driving my own hips into
                  the mattress in time with her thrusts as well. Suddenly, she let
                 loose with a banshee cry, stiffening a moment and holding my head
                 tightly against her. I never let up on her engorged clit, licking
                  and flicking my tongue over it as fast as I could. The trembling
                  of her legs was like a tightly strung bowstring, quivering with
                 tension, and I was amazed to feel the rhythmic contractions of her
                 orgasms quite clearly via the finger in her ass. I had never been
                 so completely aware of a woman's orgasm before now, and the wonder
                  and sense of power this gave me pushed me over the edge into an
                                         orgasm of my own.
                  I continued to lick her clit until she could unknot her fingers
                 from my hair, and pull me up to lay above her, holding her as she
                   shook with reaction. She said nothing yet, just kissed my neck
                 softly where she had buried her face in the angle of my shoulder.
                I clung to her as well, certain that I had died and gone to heaven.
                 Making love to her had renewed my arousal, and I hadn't been able
                  to satisfy my needs by humping the matress earlier. I hoped that
                 she would do something about this in a moment, but the urgency was
                 past, replaced by a glow of contentment mingled with arousal. The
                 next time would be slower and more sensual, but equally passionate
                  and overwhelming in intensity, if our first pass at love was any
                                            indication.
                                                -- 

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