My First Woman

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I sat across the table from Julie, trying to gauge her interest. We’d been out for drinks before, and shared mani-pedi’s, but not in a while. Not since we’d started talking about our common interest in exploring our bicuriosity together. Now, finally, we sat across from each other in a nearly empty hipster bar, telling stories over drinks.

We’d both dressed up a little more than usual. She was wearing a skirt and a knit top with camisole straps, revealing her lovely freckled shoulders and collarbone, not to mention her cleavage. She had mentioned to me before that she wore an A-cup bra, and I had expressed skepticism. Admiring her breasts again now, across the table, I couldn’t imagine how they could be A-cups. They were lovely and it was hard keeping my eyes away.

She was tall, nine inches taller than my meager five feet, with short, tousled brown hair, brown eyes, and one of the sweetest faces I’d ever seen. Her smile was amazing, her cheekbones enviable. She was ten years younger than I, and it was hard to believe she had much interest in me.

We almost couldn’t be more physically opposite. Besides my stature, I also had longer hair, light brown, and I tended much more to the curvy side, not in the euphemistic sense so often applied to that word these days, but in the sense that my 32DD bra size and my prominent butt often garner compliments from men. But I felt sure this beautiful younger woman, one much closer to the tall, willowy feminine ideal than I, would find those features less appealing.

But was it my imagination, or did I occasionally see her eyes rake over my cleavage as well? I’d opted for a casual knit dress, whose camisole straps were similar to the ones on Julie’s top, and with a neckline that was fairly revealing.

“So can you believe that?” I asked her, finishing up a story about a recent uncomfortable date with a guy. “He actually refused to wear a condom, and tried his best to talk me into sex without a condom. As if!”

She laughed, her lovely cheekbones mesmerizing me again. “Boys,” she said. “Sometimes they don’t seem worth it.”

I noticed her drink was empty; we’d already split the check.

“So what do you want to do now?” I asked.

She shrugged. “We could go to a different bar,” she offered, “or I have some weed.”

Weed meant we would have to go somewhere private.

“Weed sounds good,” I said. “How about the studio?”

I’m an artist, and Julie had already visited my painting studio, keeping me company one day while I worked on a piece. I’d been surprised how nervous it made me, having someone watching me paint. We’d opened hard apple ciders that day; I never drink when I paint, but that day I’d needed something to quell the tremor in my hand.

“Sure,” Julie said, “I can meet you there.” casino oyna I followed her outside to the bike rack, admiring her long legs and swaying hips. She unlocked her bike and put on her helmet.

“See you in a minute,” I answered, and got into my Prius.

At the studio, I was so nervous that I had trouble unlocking the door. I led the way inside, turning on a couple of lights.

“Want something to drink?” I asked, and she accepted a Diet Coke. Grabbing one for myself, I put some music on, and noticed with some disappointment that she had seated herself on a chair rather than on the rather generous loveseat/daybed. This was going to be a challenge.

She pulled out the weed and a lighter.

“You’ll have to retrain me,” I laughed. “It’s been awhile, and I’ve always had someone doing everything for me but breathing in the past.”

She thought I was kidding until I stupidly failed to realize you have to light and inhale at the same time; she had the good grace not to laugh at me, though.

“You have to do both at once,” she said. “Let me help you.”

I inhaled as she lit the one-hitter, feeling the hot smoke fill my lungs.

“Mmm,” I said, and handed it back to her. I watched her inhale, then exhale through her pouting lips. She looked incredibly sexy smoking. My eyes drifted back to her cleavage, in spite of the fact that she was watching me. We locked eyes, those beautiful deep brown eyes staring into mine. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, and opened my mouth, and instead asked, “another hit?” Dammit.

So we talked some more, more about dates with guys. Some about families. And I became aware that the evening was growing later, slipping away. I mustered my courage, and laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“I think we are both used to guys,” I smiled. “Would you wanna kiss?”

“Sure! Let’s kiss!” she said brightly, enthusiastically, almost like I’d asked if she wanted another Diet Coke. I had to laugh again.

“Let’s move to the couch,” I suggested.

We settled onto the couch, facing each other. Positioning was a little awkward; I moved closer to her and our lips met, gently, experimentally. Her lips were sweet and soft, and she kissed with slow sensuality, my favorite way. Our mouths opened, our tongues exploring, hesitantly at first. I put a hand on her shoulder, caressed her back and neck, slid my fingers into the back of her hair as I kissed her. Her hands went to my shoulders, my back. I slid a hand down her back, and up her side, gently grazing the side of one breast. She kept kissing me, so I tried sliding my hand back to her shoulder, then tracing along the neckline of her top with a finger. The rise and fall of her breasts was so perfect under my index finger. I slipped my finger just slot oyna inside her top and traced the top of her bra.

“These are not A-cups,” I whispered. She laughed.

“They are!”

“I don’t believe you,” I smiled as I kissed her again. She moved her lips down my neck, kissing down to my shoulder, and I moaned a little in pleasure, turning to kiss her ear. “You are so hot.”

“You too,” she said, and her hand cupped one of my breasts. I responded by putting a hand on her breast. It felt as large as mine in my hand, but firmer perhaps, and I found her nipple with my thumb and rubbed it gently. Now I got to hear her gentle moans. Our hands were on each others breasts now, massaging, kissing the whole time.

I started to lift her top over her head, and she helped me remove it; I had to stand up to take off my dress. She unfastened my bra. Hers was so sexy, navy and pale green, gorgeous against her skin, and her breasts looked inviting cradled in the bra. I tried to undo it, but my lack of experience with removing bras from other people failed me. Even with two hands I was useless.

“I’m going to need your help,” I admitted. “I’m no bro.”

She laughed, and unhooked her bra, revealing her beautiful breasts. We stared at each other for a moment. I was naked except for my black lace panties now that my dress was gone; she was topless, with her skirt now pushed up a bit, revealing silky peach colored panties. Her breasts were high and firm, and still looked as big as mine to my eyes. Her nipples were larger than mine, and I suddenly ached to lick them.She lay back, and I moved on top of her, bringing my mouth to her breast.

Her moaning was gratifying, sending an electric charge straight between my legs as I licked and sucked her nipples, grazing my teeth lightly against them. Her hands were on my breasts, cupping and playing with them. I could feel my panties growing ever wetter between my legs.

I moved up, still on top of her, kissing her as we both caressed each other’s breasts. She thrust her hips against me, and I responded, both of us thrusting and grinding against each other, separated only by the thin silky fabric of our panties, our breasts pressed together. Her body writhed against mine as we kissed, more and more passionately, moaning into each other’s mouths. She put her hands on my butt.

“I love your ass,” she breathed, and I moaned again, feeling on the edge of orgasm just from our grinding together. I moved my hand down, touching her pussy through her panties, feeling the warmth radiating from her. She moved her hand down as well rubbing me briefly through my panties, and then slipped her fingers inside my panties, finding my wetness, and she moaned with pleasure as she slid her fingers inside me, feeling how wet I was.

Her canlı casino siteleri fingers felt incredible inside me, perfectly locating my g-spot, rubbing my clit while she worked her fingers in and out of me. I moved my finger inside her panties as well, and she was wet too, delightfully wet, her pussy easily accepting the two fingers I slid inside her. We fingered each other, kissing, thrusting and moaning, until my orgasm built to a crescendo. I came hard, my mouth open, my eyes closed, my voice echoing through the dark empty studio in a sound so full of pleasure it almost sounded like pain.

I continued fucking her with my fingers until she too started to buck and thrust, her orgasm transforming her beautiful face into gorgeous ecstasy, her cherubic mouth open with pleasure.

We lay back together for a bit.

“That was amazing,” I told her. “I’m in awe.” I caressed her arms, her breasts, her tummy.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “that was good.” She laughed. “I can cross that off my bucket list.”

“Mind if I lick you?” I asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to?”

She laughed, “Okay.” I moved down, kissing a trail down her belly, and removed her panties to reveal her pussy. Her pubic hair was closely trimmed, her labia pink and beautiful. I licked slowly up one side of her labia, just to the side, then up the other side, glad to hear her moan in response. I repeated that, then licked down from the top, tracing the hood of her clit down to her clit, then started at the bottom, thrusting my tongue gently into her pussy, and licking slowly up toward her clit. She moaned louder. I licked again, slowly. Teasingly. Lightly.

Feeling her body start to respond again, I slide two fingers back inside her and licked her, focusing on her clit, occasionally wrapping my lips gently around her labia or her clit and sucking or pulling. I could feel her excitement building until she seemed on the edge of coming, and I took her clit into my mouth, my head tilted slightly, and licked and sucked lightly, thrusting with my fingers, until she came again, her body trembling deliciously, finally flinching a bit at my tongue against her clit as her orgasm died.

“Oh, god,” she breathed, as I moved up to kiss her mouth, sharing the taste of her pussy with her. We kissed and snuggled together.

“Do you want me to lick you?” she asked.

“I’m still pretty sensitive,” I confessed. I guess I’m kind of a guy.”

“I’ll owe you next time,” she said.

“You are so fucking hot,” I told her, “and gorgeous.”

“Oh, you too,” she responded. “I love these tits,” she said, caressing my breasts.

I pressed one of my breasts against one of hers; they still looked the same size to me.

“You are not an A-cup,” I teased.

“I am!” she laughed. “Check my bra!”

“I’m bringing a measuring tape next time,” I told her.

And we cuddled and caressed, and I reveled in my newfound bisexuality, and even more so in the fact that we’d both said, “next time.”

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