I lay back in bed, on one of my many lonely nights, and slipped my fingers betwixt my legs with practiced grace. I wiggle my hips, tugging my old-school kitty-cat print panties down to my knees, then over and around my ankles. The walls in my house are paper thin, but I never moan louder than my feather-soft pillow can muffle. Closing my eyes, I think back to the drive home. Just a few hours ago, I'd been sitting in the passenger side seat of our family Oldsmobile wagon, squirming lightly as my fathers fingers crept up my leg. Back then, I hadn't been paying much attention to his hands, even though they slide preciously close to my underwear.
I'd been remembering a time we'd gone much further.
When he came to my school for a meeting with my teachers, and afterwards he'd shot me a sly smile and pulled me inside an empty classroom. I hadn't expected him to kiss me, but my body exploded with excitement when he did. It was less of a kiss and more of a command to be unresisting to what came next. My surprise; my joy; my fear; my hope, emotion over came me. I couldn't help but smile as he lifted my pleated skirt and asked me to hold it up. I held onto the fabric for dear life, my body trembling as I looked at the door.
I was so sure that we'd be caught. Our time together seemed to stretch on forever. I felt the soft cotton moving down my leg, catching a glance at its whiteness as he lifted my ankles to pull it off. I didn't look at him. I looked at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint, and asking myself why. Why that day? I still don't know. I never imagined even for an instant that he'd ever want me, and I most certainly didn't think he'd arouse me so violently.
His tongue was a wet surprise, teasing my silken lips open and running a line of heat between my parting thighs. I held my skirt high, my fingers fidgeting with the light green pleats, as he went on and on, twisting and turning is tongue inside me. My legs eased open and around his head, and I jerked against him. I felt my self spasm; moving in a shuddering circle hard and fast, a blush filled my cheeks and my knees nearly buckled. I stood there for a long time. Pulling my skirt so high, it’s a wonder the clasp didn’t come apart. I chewed gingerly against it, the fabric suffocating my moans as his tongue slowed its movements. His kiss smacked wetly just below my bellybutton, and his warm hands sketched lazy semi-circles along the curve of my back.
I squirmed as he smeared cool wetness across my hot skin, nearly melting into a writhing mess as I felt each one of his finger tips on my body. His other hand brushed back my dark hair, completing me on my blush. It only made me blush harder. He smiled, and told me that I was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen and that between my legs was paradise.
My mouth opened. I licked my pink quivering lips and lost my voice before I could tell him how happy he'd made me. I think he saw that I couldn't speak, because he silenced my efforts with a kiss. Breaking from the kiss only to compliment me again---telling me how juicy I was, how nice it was I shaved so well, and how he wanted to make me cum again and again. As he said this, he plunged a finger into my slit, wigging it deeper than his tongue. The pressure raising goose bumps along my skin.
