Girl love I

Readers want to know about my experiences in tongue-worshipping. Here's a quick rundown:

Pam was my first. She was my suite-mate for a year in college. In a world of Courtneys, Amandas, Ambers, Tiffanys and Jennifers, we were Xers with baby boomer names. We always got along well and talked about guys incessantly. I was just getting started. Pam had been hooking up since she was 15, so I knew she was way ahead of me. Looks: She had the most lovely straight blond hair, angel face and tight body to die for.

One night, we had both been dumped by guys we were seeing and sitting on the sofa commiserating over a bottle of wine. She leaned over and kissed me. I can't say I had ever been sexually attracted to a woman before, but when her warm, soft mouth connected with mine it all changed. I didn't pull back. Pretty soon, we were in a mad makeout session and she was fingering my (very wet) pussy.

I was a virgin this way but always up for a challenge, so I undressed her and got on my knees. Her pussy was an "inny" with a very light dusting of pubic hair. She was extremely wet, too, and I loved her scent. I no doubt clumsily parted her outer lips to find a sweet pink blossom waiting for my tongue. It took her a long time to heat up to a full orgasm — she warned me. But, no problem. I was turned on and fascinated and licked away. She stroked my hair and called out my name until she was grinding her pelvis into my face. Then she let out this long, low moan and came. She returned the favor in the bedroom. "You have a beautiful pussy," she said, the first time I had ever heard that. She was aroused by my natural red hair, too. Pam had made love to other girls and her expertise was immediately evident. My previous lovers had given perfunctory licks, if that, before mounting me and pumping away for their own pleasure.

Pam took her time, kissing the insides of my legs, working her tongue all around my labia and inside me, then licking my clitoris with ever-increasing pressure. My feet were burning and I lost track of everything not connected to her tongue and my pussy. She held my hands tight as I let out scream after scream. It was my first mature orgasm. I thought later, "Wow! So that's an orgasm." Before that, I realized, I had baby orgasms from fingering myself or being fucked by some muscular, in-a-hurry young man. But nothing like this.

We held each other all night, in-between more of this wonderful new thing in my life. She sat on my face and we sixty-nined, both firsts for me. The next morning, I didn't feel any guilt, just extra horniness. For the rest of the year, we continued dating guys but also periodically ending up in bed together. I still get aroused thinking of her flawless skin and lovely hair. She's married with children now, but we still stay in touch.

After that, while I preferred men, I knew I could enjoy girl-love, too. And how.

Dresses I've known (and been known in) Part II

My friend Pam and I were very, very bad a couple of times in college, miniskirt-wise. We put on our sexiest short skirts and found places to sit while doing a "Sharon Stone" leg crossing as men walked by. Then we'd be bitchy cold if they tried to hit on us. Oh, did I say we weren't wearing panties — and with my titian red pubic hair the view up my skirt was unmistakable. No, horny guy, you didn't just imagine that. I have to say, we looked great. That happens when one is twenty. Afterward, we'd be so damned horny that we'd either end up in bed with each other, or have to go off and find our boyfriends of the moment and get some hard fucking. And they thought we were so aroused and came so fast because they were such studs.

Being out in public with no underwear and in a short skirt, too, was an amazing sensory feeling. The fingers of warm summer air tickling up my legs and into my pussy. Nothing between me and the outside world. My long legs, all 5'8" of me ("five-six of that legs," as my ex-husband said) striding through nature oh-so-naturally. Liberating, yes. A turn-on — most definitely. Especially with the eyes on me. I knew what they were thinking, and what if they knew those long legs led up to no panties...

This little adventure was quite the drive into Nasty County for a girl who was still shaking off her uptight, anti-sex, theocratic upbringing. On the other hand, it had risks. Boston then wasn't as gentrified as today, and the hoods were abundant. One day we did our beaver show off campus and a gang of five tough, working-class Irish kids started following us. This was long before I knew martial arts, much less carried a weapon. We were terrified. We gave them the slip at Downtown Crossing. Otherwise, I could imagine being dragged back to Southie or Dorchester for a couple of days of gang rape. Doing this to what they perceived as stuck-up, upper-class college girls would have only added to the allure, and probably brutality. The public defender would have said we were "asking for it." Twenty, cute and stupid. This scared us out of going commando so flagrantly. But I still do it occasionally still. (Pam is now a suburban mommie who wears long jumpers -- sigh).

Short skirts provoked so many consensual fuckings. In recent years, a long-distance lover checked into a hotel and I knocked on his door. I had on a tight, mid-calf skirt. Tasteful but men noticed, especially "leg men." It got his attention. He pulled me inside. After about ten minutes of the most divine kissing and embracing, he steered me into the nearby bathroom, hiked me up on the vanity, pulled his cock out of his suit-trousers and started fucking me. My panties never even made it past one ankle. They shook there like a little storm flag as he frantically screwed me. After we both came and disengaged, his semen spilled onto the inside of the skirt's fabric.

Oh, if I had ten dollars for every time that's happened in my life, or sperm otherwise ended up on one of my short skirts. That cool liquid feeling against the backs of my thighs as I drove home from an interlude. Those skits made for great "access" during college for outdoor and quasi-public sex. A guy fucked me on the hood of his fancy car one night, out on a country road. My khaki miniskirt pushed up to my waist and the breeze wafted over my legs and ass as he mounted me. We left heel and knee prints in the hood, and I bet they would hear me screaming that singular getting-fucked scream a mile away. Another guy pushed me up against a railing at a deserted ocean overlook and took me from behind, just pushing aside the thong I was wearing under the short skirt. I looked out at the waves and somehow that made my orgasm more intense.

A boyfriend in grad school and I were on the train. I was in a denim mini. He just kept reaching over and fingering me. I almost came and was starting to moan when the conductor started through the car and I moved his sweet hand. My first married man lover took me out to a fancy restaurant. I was wearing my first little black dress. He sat across from me and I felt his stocking foot against my calves. Pretty soon it was up inside my crotch expertly "fingering" me. He got quite a kick out of watching me flush and stifle moans while he looked on with great innocence. The toe of his socks ended up quite damp.

And that leaves the grand history of Linda Sue in little black dresses...for another day.

One good lick deserves another: The joys of grrl luv

I'm 80 to 85 percent straight, as readers of this blog well know. But there's a little bi part of me, too. Some of my best pussy licking has come from women, and I love to give a girl a tongue-lashing. Read about my experiences on the latest post at my, mmmmm, sister site, the Fellatrices.

My college fucking yearbook

You seem to like it when I tell the stories of my cocktease/cock-pleaser years in college. It got me thinking about my lovers then. Let's go in chronological order.
--Mike was my first and I was his first. It didn't hurt a bit and there was no blood. We would fuck for hours, in all kinds of positions. Great fun. But things quickly accelerated to pressure from my family to bring him home and put him on the husband track.
--Seth. My first and only frat party. I got wasted. He was flirtatious and cute -- I can still see his butt in my fantasies. I let him take me downstairs. He fucked me missionary and with my legs over his shoulders. I knew I was being "unfaithful" to Mike and, God help me, it was a turn-on. He came in me and pulled out. I was lying there feeling high and warm and...
--Glenn came along. He was my first black lover and my first big cock. I didn't even realize he was there until I felt the mattress sag and this guy was over me, and then this cock was forcing its way into my recently virginal pussy. It hurt at first and was uncomfortable for awhile. He didn't give a shit, and his whole being masterful and strong and athletic as hell were a guilty turn-on. Then it felt really good and I came hard and loud. I got out in time to avoid a gangbang.
--Pam was my first girl. It was sweet and soft and she made me love having my pussy licked. I gave as good as I got. We fooled around for a long time, even as we were seeing other guys.
--My infidelities finally broke up my relationship with Mike. Two days later I was sucking Jon's cock in the library. He was an intellectual and even at that age I found brains a huge turn-on. We remain fuck-buddies to this day.
--Steve was Boston blue-collar Irish, like the guys in "Mystic River." I met him on some do-gooder outreach we were required to undertake. He was very attractive and I started dressing more provocatively. The day I wore a short skirt without panties he took me outside in the cool night and fucked me against a wall. Yes, it was slumming, but he was good in the sack. A very well-hung man, and knew it. Unlike some, he also knew how to use that big cock. He loved to fuck me from behind, and I grew to love it. He wanted to fuck me in the ass but I wouldn't let him. Things fell apart one night when his wife found us fucking and started throwing things.
--David was the professor I seduced. He liked my legs and, he said, my mind. My first older man.
--I had a more stable relationship with Dave. He was a history major and I could tell he was a rising star. We stayed together through my junior year, and although I sucked off a couple of guys and slept with Pam occasionally, I was pretty faithful.
--Luc was my Paris fling the semester I studied overseas. He smoked a lot and even I ended up smoking Gauloises. One time he brought me off on a train going something like 170 miles per hour. We had a blanket over us and he fingered me to orgasm. He loved it that I tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to avoid being loud. Being fucked in Paris is everything you dream.
--Things got crazier when I was juggling Frank, Mike 2 and Craig. Some days I might be carrying around the semen from all three inside my pussy and my stomach. I had gotten better at keeping lovers at enough distance to keep from getting stuck and bored. Frank was rich from the LBO boom and had a sailboat in the harbor and an estranged wife (named Linda) down in New York. He also had the smallest cock I ever fucked, about 4 inches erect -- but it still had its charms. He liked having me on his arm, and taught me many worldly, sophisticated things. The gifts were quite lavish, so some might say this was my equivalent of my pal Mary Beth's coed hooker. But being young, sexy and female has benefits; life is unfair. When Frank found out I was "cheating" on him, he got mad and told Mike 2, a lawyer and buddy. Big drama. They all came back, though. Men ;-) And then it was time to go to graduate school.

A brief history of my orgasms

It makes me sad when I hear about a woman who can't or won't come. A few may have good reasons. Once a woman told me how she had been abused by her father starting at age 11, until she moved out at age 18. She had a lot of lovers, saying "I like to get the sex out of the way so a man will talk to me." But she had never had an orgasm.

I've told you about a friend who didn't want to let a man lick her pussy because she was afraid of losing control. And I've talked to a few women who seemed to hold varying degrees of this view. I guess most men are crappy at fucking, i.e. fucking so a woman really loves it. So these women don't have to worry about a good ride bringing them off. Pump, pump, snore, watch NASCAR. Finally, I know of a few who just can't come, although most of these just fake it.

I've never faked an orgasm. Maybe it helps that I have always been hopelessly horny. I started playing with myself when I was about 11, and had my first "orgasm" a year later. I put it in quotes, because although it was an orgasm, a revelation and a release, better was to, er, come.

My first lover slipped his cock inside me effortlessly. It felt nothing but good. He didn't last long, but it didn't matter because I was so overheated from him sucking my nipples and finger-fucking me, from weeks of build-up to the big night, and that we were doing it in my parents' bed (!) -- all made me come. I soon realized how I could really have an orgasm, when my college roomie Pam gave me a real pussy licking, and I ended up screaming, coming three times one right after another, and collapsing in a heap.

Oh, so that's what they've been talking about!

As I look back, I also realize I was always curious about sex, was easily aroused thinking about scenarios or appreciating them when they came true, and, to the distraction of my mother, was very uninhibited about my body. I always felt all the connections -- between my pussy and nipples, backs of my knees, toes, wrists, fingers, ears, the inside of my thighs...brain. I learned to make myself come even if a lover was not so skilled. I am a great cowgirl and can grind against him and get off.

I know I'm lucky. Some women, maybe most, can't come from fucking alone. But it helps to be fucked well. Over time I learned to tell the difference. My first older man, a professor, really knew how to take his time, heat me up, and then fuck me on top in a way that still rubbed against my clit. One good orgasm just taught me how to have another, and it became easier and easier.

I also know I am unusual in being both a "multiple" girl and a screamer. I can't help it.

When I turned 30, my lover at the time gave me a present. He fucked me into a couple of baby orgasms. Then he slipped down between my legs and tongue-worshipped me into 28 more huge and small orgasms and aftershocks. Thirty orgasms in all. I couldn't even move when it was done.

Maybe it won't be so bad turning 40, after all.

I kissed a girl, for the first time

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