That Summer, Continued

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This is what happened after that first night.


After Celine showed me how to have an orgasm, I was addicted. I masturbated at least once a day and every time Celine and I had a sleepover, we would masturbate together. Over time, I began to realize that my fantasies weren't about my sort-of boyfriend Andrew, but about her. When we were together, I'd watch her and it was her excitement and the memory of that one night's excitement that drove me to shudder and writhe as orgasms racked my body.

Celine and I developed code words to talk about it over the phone, in case one of our parents picked up downstairs. 'So how itchy were you today?' we'd ask. 'How many times did you need to scratch?' It became our shared secret, one we never dared to talk about with anyone else, certainly not the boys whose fumbling attempts at pleasuring us couldn't begin to compare, even when we tried to show them how to do it, with the pleasure we gave ourselves. Or the pleasure we would soon regularly begin to give each other.

One night, almost a month after Celine brought me to my first orgasm, we were sleeping over at my house (which I preferred, since I had a single bed and it meant that she and I would face each other while masturbating, her mouth close enough to kiss, her breath exhaling onto my face, her smooth thighs sliding against mine, the backs of our hands touching as we furiously circled our clits in the same rhythm so that we'd nearly always come at the same time) and while I was sitting in bed, waiting for her to finish putting on her pajamas, Celine asked quietly, 'Was it different ... when I did it for you?'

I didn't know how to answer. I didn't want her to think I was some kind of lesbian or something. My mind spun before I finally responded, 'Yeah. It was different.'

'Different how?' she asked quizzically, tilting her head to one side. 'Different better?'

I wanted to scream, Yes, different better! but I was afraid, so I just said, 'It was ... different different.'

Celine turned away from me and her words were so soft they were almost inaudible. 'Can you show me so I know how it feels?' It felt like my heart had risen into my throat. I couldn't speak. I suppose she took my silence as agreement, because she added, 'I'm kind of nervous so you might need to ... do things ... to get me ready.' I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I was consumed by terror and desire simultaneously, not very much unlike the time Celine had masturbated me.

She climbed into bed and turned toward me. The expression on my face must have given me away because she murmured, 'it's just us,' and ran her hand up and down my back and through my hair before resting it on the back of my head and kissing me. I felt an electric jolt travel through my body. I'd never been kissed like that before. Her soft lips pressed against mine and I pressed back, our mouths open, our bodies moving closer together until my hands were on her lower back, pulling her body against mine. It seemed to last for an eternity.

As usual, Celine took the lead and climbed on top of me so our legs were intertwined. When our tongues finally met, when our kisses grew more intense, more desperate, we began rocking our bodies against one another. It felt absolutely incredible: her leg in between mine, grinding against my pajama-covered pussy, while my leg did the same to her. Since she was on top, she was able to position herself so that my knee was in direct contact with her groin and when I realized this and began to slowly move that leg up and down, increasing and then decreasing the pressure, she moaned against my mouth.

Our mouths were just touching now, with occasional open-mouthed kisses, but as we continued grinding, it felt so good that I could only gasp while she groaned 'uuuunnnnhhhh,' her incoherent noises making me even wetter. I felt like I was on the verge of coming and I know that if my finger had been on my pussy when Celine leaned down and breathlessly whispered in my ear, 'I want you to fuck my clit,' I would have exploded into orgasm.

She pulled off her pajama pants and panties and she was so wet that I breathed in the scent of her cunt before she laid down next to me again. It smelled ... warm and salty and feminine and even though I knew it wasn't acceptable to think such thoughts, in that moment I wanted more than anything to taste it. I kissed her again while placing my finger on her clit and moving it in slow circles. She was so wet, though, that my finger kept sliding off so finally Celine took some of my sheets and wiped the wetness away, soaking through the dark purple and leaving a mark. I started out slowly, like I always did. Her clit was like mine, but different. 'Move a little to the left,' she sighed. 'No, no, too far left. A little to the right. Yes, there. Oh god yes right there. Yeah, just like that. Oh fuck. Faster. Faster! Oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck my clit with those fingers, oh God ...' I was used to hearing her talk dirty when she masturbated but it was always about the guy she was seeing. It was never like this. My cunt ached, listening to her.

Emboldened, I began to talk, too. 'Your pussy is so wet, it's dripping ... I can smell it ... I want to taste it ...' At this, Celine let out a low moan that sounded more like a growl and I kept going as I increased the speed of my finger against her. 'Tell me how good it feels for me to fuck your clit, to fuck your big hard throbbing clit ...'

That pushed her over the edge. She raised her hips and I could feel her begin to shudder underneath my finger, could feel the intensity of her convulsions and she cried out, 'Oh ... oh .... oh God ... oh my God ... oh God ... ohhhhhhhh!' as clear fluid coated her legs and dripped down onto the bed. At some point, she must have become too sensitive because she grabbed my wrist and pulled it off of her. Afterward, we were silent while she caught her breath. I was so aroused I wanted to touch myself but what I really wanted was for Celine to touch me and I was waiting to see if she would.

She sat up, looking down at me, and (to my complete shock) her eyes were glossy with tears. 'Thank you,' she said. 'That was ... amazing. Definitely different better.' And then she kissed me again, kept kissing me until I couldn't decide which would be better: to kiss her forever or to relieve the pulsating sensation in my cunt. It turned out that I didn't need to choose. Celine slid her hand into my panties and began forcefully circling my clit with her finger, her mouth against mine, sucking on my lower lip when the sensation felt so good I couldn't kiss her back anymore. But for some reason, my body was holding back. I was so close to the edge but couldn't allow myself to come. I don't know why.

Then she switched tactics and kind of held my clit between her thumb and forefinger, rolling it between the two and pulling on it like she was jerking me off. It felt so unexpectedly good; I'd never done that to myself before, and I could feel the room start to fade until it was just her fingers on my clit, her mouth against mine. And then she said it. Whispered it in my ear, like a secret. 'Imagine I'm sucking you.'

I came instantly and brutally, my body erratically writhing and twisting in pleasure. I bit my lip, hard, tasting blood; I knew for certain that if I let myself cry out, it would be so loud that my parents might hear and come upstairs. The orgasm seemed to go on and on and on until I wasn't even sure if it was the same orgasm I'd started with. After my body relaxed, she removed her fingers from underneath my pajamas and licked them. 'You taste good,' she said. 'Like me, but not. Wanna taste?' I leaned forward, my head still spinning, ready to lick her fingers, when she kissed me again and our tongues met. We kissed for a while after that and at some point fell asleep holding each other.

There are fantasies you almost don't want to allow yourself to have because you're afraid they'll never come true.

And then there are realities that are so much better than you ever dreamed they would be.

This was like that.



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