~ Fruition ~
by S. Berry
Disclaimers: I think most of you know the drill by now -- all mine, don't play with them unless you ask first, swearing abounds, but only where it needs to be, two women getting it on ahead. This one is a PWP, probably shouldn't read at work, just in case, though it's not off the hotness scale.

You can reach me at: sberrythebard@yahoo.com. If you want to join the madhouse affectionately known as the Pen, you're more than welcome to at groups.yahoo.com/group/SBerrysStories/.

Copyright © 2006 by S. Berry. All Rights Reserved.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

It was a genuine question, not a pick up line. I know because it's asked by the woman of my dreams -- and only my dreams -- who refuses to see that I'm not as naïve as she thinks I am. I want to be bad with her, preferably repeatedly. As she herself says, if it's worth doing once, it's worth doing repeatedly with power tools and a herd of goats. She's joking about the goats, but I think she might be serious about the power tools; anyway the point remains. "Drinking a beer," I reply, just to be a smart ass. They always say to play to your strengths.

"I can see that, smart ass. I meant why are you drinking a beer in a sleazy gay bar?"

"Because drinking more than one beer at once makes me feel like an alcoholic." She's so cute when she's frustrated. I bet she's cuter when you solve that problem.

"You do know the only reason women come here, don't you?"

"The same reason I'm here?"

"People don't come here to drink... Well, just to drink. Usually people are here for, uh, company," she falters and blushes.

"I know; that's why I'm here."

"No, I mean company... for the night," she tries again.

"I know; that's why I'm here." I'm having entirely too much fun to put her out of her misery. I can't believe her powers of denial are *this* strong. I know I've made comments about sex before. Even hints I would like to give it a go and would be amenable to her being my study partner.

"No, no, I mean..." She falters again.

"They pick up strangers and take them to the no tell motel across the street to fuck their brains out," I finally say helpfully. "I know; that's why I'm here."

I don't think I've ever seen anyone turn quite that shade of red before. She really ought to have that looked at; it can't be healthy. Her mouth works for several moments before she finally gathers herself enough to say, quite forcefully and rather loudly, "Like hell you are!"

I raise an eyebrow. "No, I'm quite sure I am," I tell her politely.

"You're not going to..." She waves a hand around wildly. "With some stranger!"

"Fuck," I supply helpfully.

"Quit saying that word! You never say that word!"

"Well, I do now, and before the night's over I'm going to be acting it out. Repeatedly and with great enthusiasm, I daresay."

"You're not going to sleep with any of these women," she replies forcefully.

"I don't imagine much sleeping will be achieved, no," I say agreeably.

"You're not leaving this bar with any of these women," she insists.

"I'm going home with somebody before the night's over," I reply calmly. So far, my half-baked plan is working perfectly. If hinting doesn't work, try jealousy.

"You don't want your first time to be with a stranger," she says, apparently deciding to try reason instead of ultimatums.

"Why not? They want to fuck and I want to be fucked; seems like a great combination to me." I deliberately use the hated profane word to try to shock her out of her preconceived notions some more. C'mon, don't let me be wrong.

"Your first time should be about love," she says quietly.

Shit! Hit a nerve... this could be very, very good or it could be very, very bad. "I've given up on waiting for that," I admit semi-honestly. If this doesn't work, I just might just do it the next time someone cute hits on me.

"I wish you wouldn't... You'll find that perfect woman; I know you will."

"I'm tired of waiting for her."

"You have one picked out and never told me about her?" I hope I never see that particular mix of hurt and defeat in her eyes ever again.

"I've tried; you never hear me." There. Honesty.

"I always listen to you," she says in indignant confusion.

"No, you don't. It's you, dumbass. I've been hitting on you practically the entire time I've known you." I hope I'm right about her. I don't want to lose my best friend.

"You have? And I missed it?" She asks, honestly puzzled.

"Yep, thus the ‘dumbass'."

"Just this once I'll agree with you. I can't believe I missed all your signals. So how about going back to my place and talking it all out? Maybe a little catching up on lost time?"

"Sure." Yes! Success! About time.


I assume she means actual verbal talking and possibly a few kisses. It starts off like that... awkward conversation (neither of us are much for sustained sensitive chats) leads to a shy request for a kiss. As I was ready for her to kiss me years ago, I readily agree. She kisses me softly, just a light press of lips quickly withdrawn. She checks for acceptance and returns for a series of equally light kisses. If we weren't both women these kisses would barely rate a PG, but I don't rush her. It'd be a sin to rush a master craftsman. (Or a master *with* Craftsmans'... I'm still not convinced she's really joking about the power tools.) Slowly, the intensity increases. Happily, I was correct in thinking she'd make one hell of a study partner. She sure as hell does a good job with her homework. I don't even realize she's correcting my form at first. I don't care either. Kissing eventually leads to hands under shirts, which leads to her asking me if I want to go back to her bedroom.

I say hell yeah and here I am now, flat on my back on her comfortable bed with her trying to suck the freckles off my breasts. I didn't know the human mouth could produce that much suction. Or that it could feel this good. I wonder if my nipples will ever go back to their normal length. They feel twice as long. Not that that's a bad thing; I'm not well endowed by any stretch of the imagination. In my youth, I was voted permanent president of the itty-bitty titty committee by the local boys. They thought that was hilarious until I demonstrated my displeasure by checking penis size by how loud they yelled after a fastball to the groin.

Ooh, speaking of groins, she's finally got her hand in mine. I think it might work better if she actually took my pants *off*, but I'm not about to complain. Thank god for my tendency toward baggy clothing and distaste for undergarments. She's slowly rubbing my labia. It's an interesting sensation; I never thought of doing that. She stops her suckling to check how I'm doing. She doesn't say anything, just stares into my eyes for a moment and grins before lowering her head back to my overworked breasts. I don't think they've had that much attention since the topless sunbathing incident. Oh wow... she's stroking my clit now, just a little, lightly, but it already feels better than my solo efforts. I must suck at masturbation. Actually, if I could suck in masturbation...

Okay, I seriously suck at masturbation. I thought I'd had an orgasm before, but they never felt like *that* before... and she wasn't even half trying. She looks a little surprised, but she cuddles me as I try to catch my breath enough to return the favor. I have a lot of ideas from years of intense study of porn and erotica and I'm rather eager to start testing them out. Some of them likely require more skill than I currently have, but the basics can't be that hard. Rub this, lick that, put that there; it ain't rocket science. I start unbuttoning her shirt; figuring at this point I have stripping privileges. I mean, I'm half naked, and she's had her hands and mouth all over me, taking her shirt off is no big deal, right?

She covers my hands with one of hers. "What are you doing?"

"Unbuttoning your shirt," I reply, looking up, surprised. She actually looks kinda upset. I'm confused. Apparently I broke some rule, but I have no idea what it could be.

"I like to be asked first," she explains gently.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed at this point it was okay. Can I take your shirt off?" Well, maybe it's a little harder than I thought.

"It's okay, some people it would be, but I like to decide when my clothes come off. I ordinarily extend the same courtesy to my partner, but it was obvious you were more than ready."

"Yeah, I was. So you're not?"

"Oh, I am, I just wanted you to know for next time."

"Oh. So can we get to the naked touching part now?" I ask impatiently. I've been waiting an awfully long time for this. Besides, a girl has to have her priorities.

She chuckles and removes her hand. "Have at it."

It only takes me a few minutes to get both of us divested of our remaining clothing with a little help from her. I manage with minimal clumsiness, much to my relief. I take a few minutes to just survey the territory I'm about to claim. She's a beautiful woman, all defined muscles and smooth curves.

I don't know how long we spend just kissing. Every time I try to go further, she gently redirects me. Eventually she allows me to move my unskilled caresses to her breasts. They're larger than mine, but still fairly average. I had enjoyed touching them earlier through and under her shirt, but total nudity enhances the experience. She lets me move my kisses to them. I love the taste of her skin. She murmurs instructions occasionally, "You can suck harder than that." and "Ow, easy there, baby." She runs her fingers through my hair and moans quietly. It's all so erotic I don't know how she's managing to take it so slow.

She finally guides my hand between her wide-open thighs and shows me how she likes to be touched. Three fingers inside, thrusting a rhythmically, thumb stroking the side of her clit. It's a little beyond my ability, but I do my best to keep up with the buck of her hips and the gentle guidance of her hand. I'm concentrating so hard I can't really tell you what it felt like except the obvious. I expected her to be shaved completely smooth, though. She has very short hair, so maybe she's growing it out for the winter. Or she'd been teasing. Maybe the goats had been grazing, you never know. It's not like this is the best time to ask questions. I'm pretty sure that'd be a good way not to be invited back for another study session.

Oh, wow, I just made her come. Okay, she did most of the work, but I helped so it counts. Have I mentioned she's a fantastic cuddler? It feels so good to hold her close like this. I stroke her hair as she calms. I wonder if this was a one-time deal or what.

I must fall asleep still pondering the merits of just asking the woman because I awake up in the gray half-light of dawn to discover my arm is asleep and my bladder is wide awake. Why do they never mention these things in books? And does anyone know if it's okay to wake up your partner to move off a stubbornly sleeping limb?

The End

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