Hot Secrets by Gianna Day Page B

I’m trying not to grind my crotch down into her face, holding myself back from grabbing her head and pushing it hard against me. Her tongue moves strong on me now, while she slips three fingers inside me. She moves deliberately, how she knows a woman should be touched. It’s too much and not enough all at once. There’s a lightness in my chest and I whisper a series of yesses. I can feel it building, like a light that’s growing inside me. As the force of it grows stronger, the light becomes so hot that I’m burning inside, but Melanie continues on the slow, metered rhythm. It’s the pace of her fingers and tongue moving together that brings me to come with another series of yesses, this time only a whisper of words because my lungs feel hollow, all of my energy focused on the few parts of Melanie that are touching the one part of me. My cunt spasms and pulses with such force that I have to remind myself to breathe. With eyes clenched I see an explosion of light behind my eyelids. I can’t help but press myself into her fingers and mouth at the height of my climax, feeling like my body has the strength of the ocean. She laps at me in waves as I shudder, now with lesser force each time. I come down to a calm and Melanie retreats the way she came in, removing her fingers, retracting her tongue, breathing against me for a moment and watching me.
    She backs a step away from the table and I raise myself up, still slightly high from my orgasm. Melanie dabs at the corners of her mouth, as if just having sipped from a cool glass of water. She busies herself as she does when she finishes waxing me, and I sense she expects me to dress, then we’ll say our goodbyes. But I don’t dress, I don’t move, at first. I stand a foot a way from her and our eyes lock. Surveying her from head to toe, and then settling again on those honest blue eyes, I realize with fresh shock that I have desire for her. Not simply to be touched by her, but to touch her , and more so, to fuck her. She looks sad for a moment, but it’s a sadness tempered by relief as I move toward her. We both realize that I’m not ready to leave, not yet.
    A momentary wall of fear erects itself between us, as if we’re back at the beginning, unsure of how to start. I place one hand at the base of her neck and let it rest for just a second, just long enough to bring the wall to rubble at our feet. It’s gone and we are able to touch again without apprehension. I unbutton her jeans and push them down, but she doesn’t step out of them. They are a denim puddle at her feet. I glance down to see pink lace panties and smooth, tan thighs, but then bring my eyes back to hers. We’re standing and I move in to erase the space between us. Our lips part and our tongues meet, circling in a sweet, soft and wet hello. I slip my hand ins ide the front of her panties. The warmth is shocking, but also intriguing. I work two fingers inside of her . I break our kiss for a moment and tell her, “I’m going to make you come.”
    She whimpers slightly and then brings her mouth back to mine in response, deeper this time and with urgency. Our chests press together and I wish we’d take n the time to remove shirts and bras, but we’re beyond that now. She stands on her tiptoes in an attempt to rise up and then press down harder on my invading hand. I respond b y moving in deeper. She’s essentially riding my right hand while my left hand is on the back of her neck, pressing her into me, my tongue exploring the need for more of her mouth. She pulls back and quietly says, “Fuck.”
    “Yes,” I answer. “Get on the table.”
    She gives me a brief questioning look before we break apart completely so that she can step fully out of her panties and jeans and hop up on to the table. I want to taste her as she’s tasted me. I’m eager and have to slow myself for a moment. Though I want her, this is my first intimacy with a woman and I want to pay her the same attention sh e paid me. I