Two Girls in a Field

Two girls meet in a field. The sun is shining brightly and there is a soft zephyr of a breeze, just enough to cool the skin and make the wheat in the next field ripple, softly. High overhead, a sparrow hawk hovers and peers intently down, looking for its next meal.

I'm already there when she arrives. Together, we let our summer dresses slip from our shoulders onto the soft grass. We can't wait to touch, to be in each other's arms. We are still in our panties as we embrace and kiss. That kiss alone insulates me from the world around me. It simply ceases to exist. There is only me and her.  

Oh, I want her! I want her hands on me and her fingers inside me. I want her lips, her tongue, and her teeth. I want to kneel before her and accept into my mouth all that she has to give to me. She has chosen this place. It is significant to her, she tells me. There is power here.  

I feel aroused, so aroused that I can feel the wetness between my legs pulsing from me with every beat of my heart. I feel her breasts against mine, her tummy against mine, and I feel innocent again. I wish I had waited, saved myself for her. I wish she had been my first. She is so in tune with me, she senses my regret and simply asks, "What is it?" I tell her and she smiles. "But this IS your first time."  

She kisses down my body until she kneels at my feet. She reaches up and pulls my panties down and I feel the soft breeze on the wetness between my thighs.  

She stands, and I do the same for her. Why don't I kiss her? Why don't I run my tongue between those sweet lips and taste her?  

More to the point, why, even though I am pulsating with desire, do I not feel lust?  

She bids me kneel with her and, taking some straw, she binds our right wrists together. It's tricky and it takes two of us working together to do it. Then, she leans towards me and utters words into my ear that are too private to disclose, but they touch my soul.  

This is public land and anyone could come along at any time, but we don't care. For the moment, this place is ours.  

Finally, she touches my sex and sends a shiver through me. Her fingers find my clit as mine find hers. We are both kneeling up, and looking deeply into each other's eyes. There are no fingers inside, no savage finger fucking, no candle wax on the nipples, this is pure, intimate. We sense each other's orgasm as it approaches. On the very threshold, she stops. My vagina is weeping, it's tears running down my thighs, as is hers.  

She cups my face in her hands and, looking through my eyes into my soul, says, "Claire, I love you with every part of my being. With every breath, with every heartbeat. Claire, you are my reason for being, my life and my love are yours."  

Those words alone trigger my orgasm and I come as she holds my face.  

I take my hand from between her legs and fling both of my arms around her neck. I realize that her wetness has pooled in the palm of my hand. I lean close to her and respond, "Amy, you have brought me to a place of completion. I am whole when I'm with you. I need your scent, your breath, your body and your soul. Amy, with all my heart I love you." I feel her shudder as she spontaneously orgasms. There will be time enough for eroticism, for lust, and for debauchery. This is none of those things. This is pure, sacred, and something I was neither looking for, nor expecting.  

Amy was right. This is my first time. This is love.