How you feel about yourself, in relation to your size and shape, may have little relation to your actual proportions. I was, for a while, involved with a woman who was six feet two, big breasted and bottomed, but who felt herself to be small, delicate and vulnerable. Though I am much shorter, she wanted me to be protective and commanding. Submissive to the point that when we made love, she could respond only when told what to do, and could only orgasm after repeated pleadings to be allowed to. The relationship ended, in fact, because I was not sufficiently domineering. She found another lover, actually smaller than me, whose orgasms depended on dominating her partner almost to, maybe actually to, the point of humiliation.
This reminiscence prefaces a story designed to include the fantasies of a woman I will call 'Kerith.' Another Literotica reader, she is lesbian, ready to enter into loving, monogamous liaisons. She is quite tall, but fancies a taller lover, and she is ready to give herself to the needs and pleasures of a partner. At the same time, she longs for motherhood, which means being impregnated by another woman, and Kerith does not distinguish between women who have penises and those who don't. I am striving to do justice to her beauty, for the only authentic details of this otherwise fictional piece are those of her appearance.
[Language notes, Polish to English:
w
łosy pussy
=pubic hair (vlossy pussy);
piękna dupka
=beautiful bottom (pyenkna doopka)
; łechtaczka
=clitoris (wekhtachka);
piękna cipa
=beautiful cunt (pyenkna cheepa)].
Kerith's third visit to the store was motivated more by the hope of seeing one of the security staff than by the wish to purchase. She was aware of this prompting, but ready not to take it too seriously. After all, the woman was likely already in a, probably heterosexual, relationship. She would, anyway, not necessarily be drawn towards Kerith.
Kerith was dressed in a blouse and skirt, to look as feminine as possible, and because if she was going to try on clothes, specifically panties, it was easier like that. Which raised the question of what kind of panties to wear, something lacy or her usual sturdy cottons. Silly question, since there was no reason to think her underwear was going to be important today.
To work she wore padded bras to enhance her otherwise smallish breasts, but on this occasion, for some reason, she wanted to present herself as she really was. After all, although not prominent they were shapely, and shown to advantage by the blouse.
The security guard was visible on the first floor, moving about slowly and scrutinising the customers. Kerith's vivid memory of her was confirmed. The woman was tall, maybe just over six feet, and her crisp blue shirt certainly showed off her breasts to advantage. Though not especially large, perhaps D-cup, they were rounded and covered a lot of chest. It quite surprised Kerith that she was not wearing pants but a knee-length navy-blue skirt. Beneath that there were pantyhose or stay-ups. Her shoes were sturdy black flats. She was not wearing a uniform hat. Instead, her pale blonde hair was gathered at the back by a navy ribbon.
Keri moved closer, pretending to look through the jeans on the rack beside her, hoping that her approach was not obvious while her target continued to move about and keep her attention on the customers. Kerith knew her name already, having on her first visit read the ribbon above her left breast. Kamilka Omelan. Above the right breast was the name of her employers, while the shirt's epaulettes bore silver numbers, further identification.
While Kerith was covertly admiring this Kamilka, she became aware that she was being studied in her turn.
Although Kamilka was keeping an eye on the shoppers she was also switching her gaze to Kerith every few seconds. And eventually their eyes met, and held, and both women, without thinking, smiled.
After that Kamilka scanned the people again, for perhaps a minute, and Kerith waited for their eyes to lock again. She was confident this would happen, because during that first ocular sharing some sort of intimate communication had been established. Both women had felt it, Kerith was sure, and she moved still closer, only a few feet away.
Sure enough, Kamilka looked into Kerith's face, smiled and moved her lips in a silent message. Surely a confirmation there was something beyond the immediate. Those lips were like Kerith's own, delicate, beautifully shaped, a rich pink, promising sweet kissing. Then Kamilka seemed to discover some urgent task elsewhere, but as she brushed past Kerith she said quietly, 'Break in five minutes. Coffee, top floor?'
Kerith nodded. There was no possibility of failing that appointment, and she was in the coffee shop three minutes later, seated at a table in the quietest corner, heart beating a little faster. Though she was telling herself how unwise this anticipation was, as all that had happened was a shared look, a smile, and a probably merely casual invitation. She also knew, however, thinking of those light greenish-brown eyes, that she was actually being invited into something far from casual.
Punctual to the minute, Kamilka entered, strode over and said, 'May I join you?'
They both laughed, Kerith took her purse of a chair and Kamilka moved it so that when she sat down they were side by side, backs to the walls in the corner. Then she offered a hand, 'Kamilka Omelan, as you know from three weeks ago.' Her voice was pleasantly resonant, with a trace of an accent.
Kerith offered a hand much smaller than Kamilka's, and gave her name. There was no shake. The hands remained clasped for a short while. The eye-contact was renewed, and through it a series of mutual intuitions passed. Kerith understood that her longing for a stable, loving and passionate liaison had been absorbed. She knew in turn that this strong, confident woman was capable of tenderness, but currently needing some fulfilment which she, Kerith, might be able to provide.
A waitress approached and took their order, and while she was fetching it there was an exchange of information. Kerith was in retail and Kamilka was from a Polish-American family in another state, and bilingual. Her store job was supporting her through a master's degree. But after the coffee arrived the talk became deeper and more oblique.
'Kerith, I so like your name. It sounds gentle, like a sigh of satisfaction. And you are gentle, aren't you? You're generous, wanting to give pleasure.'
Kerith was a little shocked that the conversation had so quickly progressed, but Kamilka, reading her hesitation, said, 'We know there's something between us, for us, don't we? So, why don't we just follow where it takes us?'
'All right. You know I was attracted to you the first time I saw you. You know I came here today hoping to see you again.'
'You were hoping for more than that.'
'Yes, I was.'
'You are even more hopeful now.'
'Yes, I am.'
'What are you hoping for, Kerith?'
Kerith was still not quite ready for such directness and hesitated. Kamilka's hand sought hers under the table. 'You were hoping for love.' A statement, not a question.
'How could I, though? When the odds were that you were in a relationship, and not interested in women, anyway.'
'Because your instinct told you otherwise.' Her hand was squeezed.
'What did your instinct tell you?' Kerith asked, happy to have her hand held.
'It told me, the first time you came, to hope you'd come again, and the same the second time. And today it told me we could really meet.'