The Over-Educated Nympho

Continued from Part I of the threesome I recently had with Handsome & Pretty Twosome. I’m warning you now, you probably don’t want to read this at work. Heed the moans and embarrassment of past commenters.

The first few minutes in the bubble bath with Pretty Twosome felt more like good ol’ fun girl time and not so much like there should be a chorus of drunk frat boys yodeling bah chi chi wah waaaah while they took bets on which of us would make the first move. We splashed around in the jacuzzi jets and giggled. She asked me what it was like to have a threesome with two guys (fantastic. duh). Ironically it was during this discussion topic that I put my right hand on her thigh.

We kept talking, and my hand kept moving down her thigh. That sounds so cliché but when it’s a girl doing this to another girl it is nothing short of pure awesomeness.

I pulled myself closer to her, close enough to smell whatever it is wafting off her body that instantly takes me back to our first time together. Soon that moment came when our eyes met in that special way that leads to the first kiss… the second.. the third..

Sometimes the kisses were so delicate that I barely felt her lips on mine, and yet I felt each kiss reach all the way to my toes.

Guys don’t kiss like that. At least not any guy I’ve been with since I was young enough that boys were too scared to go for second base.

Kissing a girl is so different from kissing a guy. It’s more complicated than saying it’s “softer.” That’s not the right word because it doesn’t convey the level of intense heat involved. It’s more sensual, I suppose. Except I hate to use that word because bad erotica has bastardized it beyond redemption.

Something about girls, or maybe it’s just Pretty Twosome (I haven’t kissed enough girls (only 6) to have a strong opinion) makes me think that girls are more in the moment. They relish each little kiss, eye flutter, and stroke of the finger. Guys seem to be more hungry when they kiss, which can be hot as hell when that’s what you’re craving (and it’s not the same damn thing as it has been the last eight times you’ve hooked up)–but sometimes it makes me wonder if they’re eager to rush through the obligatory five minutes of kissing before getting to the real goods. I wonder how many have forgotten that the slow purposeful kissing is often sexier than the urgent hard style of kissing. When I’m with someone, I want to remember every single kiss, lick, and bite–assuming they are worthy of being remembered in the first place.

Every once in a while one of us pulled back from the other for a moment. We would both half-open our eyes and smile, like just checking to make sure you’re not a figment of my freakishly horny imagination. As we pulled each other in deeper, our bodies became more wrapped up in each other. The jacuzzi was large enough to accomodate the twisting of our bodies until I was nearly diagonal to her with my leg hooked over hers and around her waist.

At one point I sensed movement. I opened my eyes just in time to see the shadow of Handsome Twosome cast on the bathroom door.

Pretty Twosome and I continued kissing. As we went on I became more bold with where my hands wandered. At first my hands were on her back, in her hair, cupping her face–all these gestures feel entirely different on a girl than on a guy, which is why it took so long for my hands to work their way down to her breasts and eventually her pussy.

My finger slipped right in. Ohhhhhhh how good it feels to be on the other side of this. As soon as the finger enters, a girl’s body automatically responds with a slight arching of the back and shudder of breath. To be the one causing that reaction is reason enough to be with a girl. Besides the fact that boobies are awesome.

I wasn’t ready to get her off yet. We had the rest of the night and morning for that. I wanted to enjoy feeling my finger inside her. Even though hers felt identical to mine, it is entirely different feeling another pussy tight around my finger.

I looked up over her shoulder. My eyes met Handsome Twosome’s. He was silent, grinning. How long has he been there leaning against the counter? I’m sure he could read everything in my eyes that I was too busy to say. We exchanged knowing glances before he turned and left us alone again.

Continue reading here.

_________________
In case basic common fucking courtesy isn’t obvious: don’t plagiarize. I’m sick of finding that you stupid myspace poseurs have gone through something I spent hours writing, changed the names around, and took credit for it. There’s a special place in hell for people like you, one where they revoke your orgasm privileges. Broken clitoris, ha ha ha, who’s laughing NOW bitch?