I Met a Girl

I wasn’t expecting to meet her. Circumstances converged and by an unexpected turn of events, we ended up at the same place at the same time. She was tiny, sometimes quiet, very pretty, smart, quick-witted, and game for an adventure.

We met again in different guises–no longer party primped, just two girls meeting after work for a drink. A bunch of drinks. A bottle of bubbly shared. No food. And I got a bit tipsy. And somehow we ended up talking about sex a lot. And it was a wonderful conversation. So free, so open. We talked about many other things as well. And it was brilliant to make such a wonderful and natural connection with someone.

How we got to the exact subject I can’t recall, but I told her about my desire to explore my attraction to women. And she told me about her past in that regard, and what she hoped the future would hold. And somewhere in there I realized that I really liked her. I mean really liked her. And I was hoping she really liked me. At the same time I knew that if she didn’t, we still had the basis for a phenomenal friendship.

Over the next couple of days I tried to sit with my feelings and observe them, not get caught up in them. Somehow I found the courage to be a bit more flirtatious with this darling girl. And she reciprocated a bit, and I felt encouraged. I suspect she had no idea at that point what was going on with me.

So with that, I sent her a message.

I’m doing a scary thing and telling you that my Twitter flirting may be shameless but is not idle…

and I’m having a tough time not thinking about our chat, and don’t really know what to make of what I’m thinking.

I’m pretty sure she knew what I meant, but she asked me to tell her exactly what I meant.


I’m emailing because 140 chars is a nightmare. I’ve taken my deep breath, and I’m confessing an attraction that’s both physical and intellectual. Maybe borne of having confessed my heretofore untested interest honestly. I’m not sure. So that’s what I mean when I say I don’t know what to make of what I’m thinking.

And when she acknowledged similar feelings I felt my stomach drop, or whatever that weird, strange, deep in your gut feeling is. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a very long time. So we planned another drink. We met at a lovely bar with very expensive drinks and again quickly fell into easy conversation about everything. But I was so nervous. “Everything” means “I have no idea what exactly I blathered on about.” I kept looking at her, enjoying the easy smile that played across her sweet lips.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, to acknowledge the fact that we were sort of on a date. And I wasn’t trying to avoid the topic, but I also couldn’t bring myself to hit it head on. I’d only had one drink, albeit a big one for me. I guess I needed liquid courage or something. I do regret that I was so nervous that I couldn’t woman up and say what I wanted. But finally she brought it up, and I was so grateful. Once it was on the table it was totally easy to acknowledge it and talk about it. We both wanted it, and when she told me she thought I was hot I’ll admit to a surge of heat and a throb between my legs. It was an honest admission and it turned me on so very much.

Thankfully, very quickly, she invited me to her place. And I accepted. Who am I? What am I doing? How did this happen? I’m so glad this happened. The thoughts ran through my head, and I had to let them run on through rather than answer.

So we blew out of there, and arm in arm sought a taxi. The ride to her place wasn’t terribly long, and we started holding hands and stroking fingers. Her hands were tiny, and so very, very warm. She tried to warm up my cold hands with hers, but it was nearly impossible. Her skin was so soft.

We got to her place and the nerves were back anew. She was wonderful and perfect trying to set me at ease. After a few minutes of settling in and pouring some wine, we finally nestled on the big, comfy sofa. And then she kissed me. It was a long, slow, soft kiss, and it was better than I had imagined. I had no idea what it would be like to kiss another person after so many years, and it was totally different, but felt wonderful. I tentatively slipped my tongue between her lips, and nibbled her bottom lip just the tiniest bit. This was the first time I kissed a girl that counted. Anything before this was chaste or sloppily drunk, and there weren’t many. This was a kiss with intent.

She got up and took off her top, and I began to get my first real sense of her body. We kissed some more and hands began to wander. I began to feel up the exposed swell of her breasts, running my fingertips just inside the cups. She gave a lovely sigh, and emboldened I began to kiss and lick her neck from ear to collarbone. Another sigh, this one harder, louder, and accompanied by a little shiver. It felt pretty amazing to get that reaction.

“How do I get you out of this?” she asked, pulling on the buckle of my belt. I took it off in a flash, and again we started kissing. Then she pulled me up and took me to her bedroom. Her bed looked so inviting, covered with a fluffy duvet. We knelt on the bed face to face and began kissing again. The she pulled my top off and we were both just in our bras and bottoms. She stroked my nipples through the lace of my bra, and I again slipped my fingers into hers, this time finding a gorgeous plump and hard nipple. When I touched it she inhaled sharply with pleasure, and I knew exactly what she was feeling. A second later her bra was off and those beautiful breasts were begging to be touched, kissed, fondled, sucked, nibbled, devoured.

She led me, I realize now. And I thank her for that. Because I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. It took a while for instinct and desire to overcome nerves and self-consciousness.

Soon her jeans were off, my skirt and tights were gone, and we were just in our panties. Again she kissed me and boldly ran her hand down to my pussy, stroking me through the fabric. It was an amazing and unexpected feeling. Her fingers were light but insistent. I can’t remember what I was doing. Was I kissing her? Licking her neck? Fondling those gorgeous tits? Or just enjoying the feeling of having my pussy stroked by her deft fingers? I have no idea what she felt there, but I hope she knew how wet I’d gotten with all the buildup.

I have to admit that I cannot stop thinking about this moment. It keeps coming into the back of my mind and forcing all other thoughts out from time to time. Her panties were absolutely soaked. As I pressed a couple of fingers to her slit through the light mesh fabric I fell her slippery wetness seep through. It wasn’t just a little wetness–she was dripping and I was just in awe. Touching her and feeling that–something I have only felt on myself, made me realize just how incredibly seductive a woman’s body is. I felt that slick, delicious wetness and I wanted to be in it. I slipped a couple of fingers into her panties and found her wet, swollen clit. With two fingers I circled it, slowly, torturously while we kissed.

Somewhere in there our attention turned to breasts, and touching and sucking hers was an incredible experience. My nipples are sensitive, but they need rough stimulation to really get me hot. I feel fairly certain she could probably come from nipple play only. Her breasts are small, so delightfully soft, but those nipples are something else! Swollen, hard, and perfectly protruding, ripe is the word. I just wanted to take them between my teeth and bite. But I didn’t. I nibbled a little, I squeezed and rolled a lot. Everything I did drew approval from her lips. Oh, but there were so many other things I wanted to try!

She was gentle, almost tentative, with me. At some point I told her she probably couldn’t do anything too rough. Her touch remained lighter than the max I was seeking, but still was incredibly arousing, drawing gasps and moans from my lips. Her hands and mouth felt so good, soft, warm.

After checking in with me (which she did several times throughout our time together, and it made me feel wonderful) she asked me to lie back and get comfortable, and then she removed my panties and began to explore my pussy. How I wanted to watch her, but I was too self-conscious. Not about my nethers, but about the whole situation. She began by blowing gently on my clit and then put her mouth on me. Oh she felt so good! She lavished my pussy with her lips and tongue and then slipped a finger inside. In this way she brought me to the first orgasm I’ve had in many years not given by either masturbation or my (male) partner. It felt so good. As I came down from the pleasurable high she stroked and caressed my swollen pussy.

Somewhere in there she began slapping my cunt, just light smacking. It felt so amazing. She had this sort of rhythmic tapping going and it was an unusual and arousing sensation.

I think I was so overwhelmed by what she’d just done to me that I wasn’t really 100% present for a little bit. I’m pretty certain I slipped a finger inside and began to stroke, finding a sensitive spot that apparently felt pretty damn good to her. Slowly I rubbed, stroked, circled and felt her body respond. It was such a fantastic feeling, giving that kind of pleasure for the first time. Then I slipped my moist finger into her mouth for her to taste her own arousal. Her moan was exquisite.

God, she was so wet and slippery. I wanted to taste her, and tentatively I began my exploration. I kissed down her body. I looked at her pussy. But not nearly enough. So different from mine! Everything seemed tinier and more compact, but so very beautiful. I’ve always found pussies in general to be pretty, and for hers to be my first one up close…well, my luck.

I smoothed some of her gorgeous juices over the outside of her lips, spreading that silky wetness around. Then I continued my exploration, kissing over her mound, in the crease of her thighs, and finally to her lips. Slowly I licked and kissed, just on the outside. Carefully I spread her open just the tiniest bit and ran my tongue into the crevice between her inner and outer lips. I tried to do it in such a way that I completely missed her clit and her waiting hole. Just a tease. Finally I ran the tip of my tongue between her inner lips and up to and around her clit. Just as she had done, I licked, sucked, teased. Her juices were thick, silky, salty, flowing. As she had, I slipped a finger inside and touched her again as I had before. I wish I had watched her more. I only realized afterward that I tended to have my eyes closed, and therefore missed seeing her reactions. Somewhere in there, or was it later, she told me I was very good.

I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing, but was trying to replicate things that I knew felt good to me, and trying to do it in the right places with the right rhythm, with the right pressure, with the right intensity.

From here I only remember things in snippets. Later she had her mouth on me again and told me she could just stay there all night. Damn, wouldn’t that be a treat!

She pulled out a toy to use on me, and I didn’t see it before it went in. Maybe she was trying to be sneaky? She wielded it mercilessly inside me and it felt large, hard, and incredibly good. Especially since her mouth was back on my clit at the same time. I’m pretty certain that’s when I had the body-shaking orgasm. God I love those. When she pulled it out and showed me, it was a good-sized glass dildo, with a slightly curved tip for g-spot stim, and little raised dots/ridges along the shaft. Mmm, it was a good one. Too bad I didn’t get a chance to use it on her.

At some point thereafter there was some cuddling and snuggling, and she ended up with her back to me, spooned. Oh fuck. What a lovely feeling that was, her delicious ass pressed against my hips. Her ass is so perfectly rounded. Her pale, soft skin begs to be caressed. That delicious curve where her cheek meets her thigh the perfect place to cup a hand and rest it.

I reached around and again slipped my fingers over her still unbelievably wet pussy. I stroked her lovely clit and then slipped two fingertips into her tight hole. I held her and fucked her with my fingers and wouldn’t let her get away. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, as I continued insistently. She squirmed against me, wriggling as if to get away. But I held onto her, inside and out, until she went a bit rigid and called for me to stop. I did, immediately, and slipping my fingers from her, softly held and stroked her soft pussy. “You’ve killed me,” she said. Or was that later? I felt a little pride at that.

Her fingers again reached for me. “God, you’re so wet,” she said. I’m sure I was. I’d been touching her for ages and loved the way she felt under me. I didn’t know what to expect, how my body would react. Each new sensation was amazing.

She took me again with her mouth and fingers, again she smacked my pussy, but this time with softer, insistent, rhythmic taps. I didn’t come from it, but felt I could have. I told her she was a bad, bad girl. She told me I was worse.

At some point we were cuddled around each other, her hands and mouth playing with my breasts. She told me how much she enjoyed getting to play with bigger ones. That made me laugh, it was so sweet.

I’m not sure exactly how she got there, but she was draped over my chest, on her forearms and knees, and I began to caress her fantastic ass again, slipping my fingers between her cheeks, running them along the crease where the thigh meets, and finally to her pussy. I teased her with fingertips barely dipping into her opening, smoothing that ever-present wetness over her lips again as I stroked the silky skin of her pussy. She accused me of being a tease. I agreed.

I remember slipping my thumb into her mouth and she sucked it like she was going to suck it off my hand. Her eyes so intense, her tongue so soft and firm at the same time, pressing it to the roof of her mouth as she sucked. It’s one of the moments my brain won’t stop replaying.

Our time together was coming to an end. She had to get up for work the next day, I had to get a cab across town. We snuggled down in the bed and just wrapped ourselves around each other for a bit.

“Oh the things I would do to you if we had more time!” she said before we left the bedroom. Oh the things I wanted her to do to me if we had more time. It was just a taste. It was such a good one.

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