Her touch

Amy is a virgin. I know that now from my own observation, but she has always said so.  One night, we were in her room, candles lit, incense burning, and the room was draped as usual in colorful silk scarves and tie-dyed sheets. There was some soft tribal music playing and Amy just talked while I listened to her pour her heart out. She spoke of a life of loneliness, of how no one ever got past her 'weirdness' to discover who she really is. She spoke of how everyone thought she was a freak - even her own parents.  If you think the dark girl from the film Breakfast Club you're somewhere close to Amy. How many hours was I there listening to her? One? Three? More? Time in her presence has little meaning. Our conversation had ranged widely through the secret garden that is Amy's life. I hadn't said much but then I got up to pour us some more wine.

I barely felt the touch. Her hand went around my waist and onto my belly landed as softly as a butterfly’s wings. I stood up and then her other hand encircled my waist, pausing for the briefest moment before traveling up under my t-shirt to cup my naked left breast. 

My heart began to race and I fought to keep my breathing calm. 

I felt her head rest lightly on my shoulder, and her lips brushed my neck. "Oh, Claire...." the sentence was as calm as a whisper. Although it was only two words, its intensity forced a tear from my eye. She couldn't even finish it. There were no words, nothing she could add that would possibly convey the turmoil within.

I felt a brief kiss, then a longer one, then her teeth brushed the skin of my neck. Her hand increased its pressure on my breast, and her other hand tracked down to the V between my legs over my skirt.

I felt her fingers working, pressing, and a little mew of frustration. Her fingers scrabbled gently lifting the cotton until with a satisfied "mmmm" her fingers found my panties. I reached around behind for her, not wanting to spoil the moment, but wanting her to know that it was ok, she could carry on. I would give her what she so obviously needed. But did she know what she needed? I knew this was a precious, almost holy, moment.

I was surprised to find, not the ankle length tie dyed skirt she was in when she was first sitting on her bed, but bare skin, and the soft, warm cotton of her panties as I stroked her legs in assent.

Amy stroked up and down my own, rapidly dampening panties. Her finger pressed the cotton between my moist folds before tracking up with agonizing slowness to the waistband. Again, the kiss on my neck, again the "ohh Claire.....please...." and again a brush of her teeth, but this time, was there a little nip too? The tiny, almost needle-sharp pain seemed to course through my body directly to my clit. I lay my head back onto her shoulder. 

Amy's hand toyed with my waistband for ages before slipping inside and exploring my tummy, my mound, and then with exquisite slowness, my sex. 

I was still reaching behind her and now had my hands in her waistband at the sides. I had eased her panties down until the resistance of her thighs fell away and they slid effortlessly down her legs to the floor. 

I turned. Of my own volition, I turned to face her and saw that, like me, tears were flowing freely down her face. I held her face in my hands and kissed each salty drop away, as she did the same for me.

Was it seconds, or hours that we took to strip each other naked? I don't know, and really, it doesn't matter. For a while, we just stood there, swaying gently to the music, kissing gently, and caressing each other, breasts to breasts, tummies to tummies, while the musk of our arousal filled the spaces between us with desire.

Who broke the embrace? I don't know, but suddenly, I was being led by the hand gently to Amy's bed, and laid down upon it as gently as any virgin has ever been laid on a bed before her first time. Amy doesn't shave. Anywhere. I found it extremely stimulating to see her pussy hair and a light growth of armpit hair too. 

She kissed me, and in that kiss, I knew. Somehow, I knew that my role was to let her love me. To let her explore. To let her use my body for her pleasure. She straddled me, and I felt the damp warmth of her pussy over my belly. Then, she kissed my neck again, this time, sucking hard and nibbling. This would be my first ever love bite, and she did it deep and hard! The pain made me wriggle and my quim flooded. I stroked down her body and pushed a hand between her legs. She was so wet. When my fingers touched her clit, she cried out – actually cried out loud, "Ohh yes....please....just there." I explored the slippery wetness and, eventually, her hole. Even a virgin can have no hymen, but Amy’s was firmly intact. I couldn't even get my little finger in her, not even a little.  I went back to her clit, and masturbated her until I felt a flood of wetness run over my belly and onto the duvet. 

Amy cried out and convulsed like no one I've ever been with. This was pent up sex, a release long, long overdue.

She gently kissed down me, spending time on each breast, and oh, how I hoped she would bite and suck my nipples like she did my neck. Perhaps, it was the piercings that put her off I don't know, but she did suck them, hard, before kissing down to my quim. 

There is something instinctive about it, I think. Here is a girl who has never even masturbated, yet she explored my sex with expertise. She found my clit, and found my hole, pushing first one, then two fingers deep inside me. Then she kissed my clit as if it was the most precious thing on earth. 

I felt myself melting until, when the orgasm came, I was one with her.

Amy lay beside me, still kissing my lips, and then said, "Make me complete. Make me a woman." I knew what she wanted, and what a gift to give me. I looked around for a suitable candle, and found a long, slim one, similar to the one I'd used to break myself in. First, though, I put it inside myself and let Amy gently fuck me with it. I wanted it warm, and covered in me before I used it on her. 

Then that precious moment. It wasn't that I knew when Amy was ready, it was more that Amy knew when Amy was ready. She pulled away from me and lay on her back, spreading her long, sensuous legs. I rolled onto my side and then over her, the candle still inside me. Then, looking deeply into those large brown eyes, I pulled the candle out of me and positioned it before pushing it firmly inside her. 

Amy fling her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately as the pain of deflowerment dissolved into the building of her first orgasm with something inside her. Her whispering coarsened, "Oh Claire yes....fuck me.....fuck meeee....ohhh fuckkkkkmm." I held her tight as the orgasm ripped through her.

Afterwards, we lay together on her bed. A small patch of blood gave testimony to her relinquished virginity. "I'm so glad it was with you," she whispered. 

I stayed the night and we slept in each other's arms. 

Amy didn't plan this, I learned. She has always been a creature of the moment. "I just wanted to slip my skirt off and hold you from behind. The rest, the rest just happened." Did she know I went that way? In typical “earth mother” manner, she said, "The goddess makes us all love who we want at that moment. Everyone is bisexual, some just don't admit it." 

Amy had held onto her virginity for 19 years. She told me that even when she started to feel horny as a young teenager, "I knew my own hand wasn't for me then. I knew my first orgasm should be at the hands of another, at the hands of someone I trusted."

I'm honored to have been that person, and I'm honored that Amy is now a free spirit. She'll love who she wants, when she wants. That may well now be in her own hands, or mine, or another's. It doesn't matter. 

Amy is free.