By SBerry

Ownership Disclaimer: They belong to me, bwahaha! I know one looks sorta familiar, but she isn't, I swear. She's all mine. Please don't play with them without express written permission.

Locality Disclaimer: The bar in this story is based on one I go to all the time in a spot in the road town in Kansas. Everything else is made up.

Sex/Violence/Pass the ketchup: Lots of graphic sex between two women; no violence. If this is illegal where you live, you're chronologically challenged, or you just think girl/girl action is icky, I would really like to know how you found this, but never mind my curiosity, just hit the back button before you're scarred for life.

Alcohol/Language/Does Anyone Actually Care?: Heavy, but responsible alcohol use and potty mouths. Somehow, the two just always seem to go together... Hmm... wonder why that is?

Music: All the music used in this story is used without permission. I know, naughty bard. I'll spank myself and put myself in bed without supper. Ace & Eights is a real band. I believe they have a website. If you live in Eastern Kansas and ever have a chance, go see 'em. They're pretty good.

Feedback/I'm pathetic/please talk to me: Send comments, flames, slippery nipples, and Dr. Pepper to sberrythebard@yahoo.com.

Dedication: To my best girl and inspiration. If it weren't for her, this would never have been penned. And to one of my closest friends and Co-Keeper of Sheep, for the idea of adding sheep. By the way, if you wonder what's up with the sheep, join my list at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SBerrysStories/

I'm just sitting at here at the bar, minding my own business, drinking my beer, watching the door. I'm hoping someone who might give a damn will come in. I usually sit at a table, but then again, I don't usually sit alone either. But it's early, I'm depressed, the bar is pretty much empty except me, the bartender, and a couple good ol' boys in Stetsons and jeans from a long ago better time. It looks like they've been here since 1865. They probably woulda been here sooner, but there was no bar before then.

My baby hasn't left me for the simple fact I don't have one to begin with. I thought I had, but she liked my sister instead. Why she'd danced with me like that, I don't know, but she'd kissed my sister. She'll probably show up later, but I don't care. I found out she was into drugs and -- shudder -- men -- after the fact and I don't want her anyway. I don't have a broken heart.

No, I'm depressed because I'm nearly twenty-four years old and have no direction in life. It's not because I don't want any; I do. I'd like to make something of myself, but it never seems to happen. Before you think it's because I spend too much time in bars, it's not. I rarely drink -- yes, I come out a lot on weekends with my dad, but I usually stick with soda. I like the live bands they have out here. Dad likes to dance. I like country music. So we compromise. Dad tries to convince the ladies to dance; I try to convince the men I don't want to. I'm too chicken shit to ask the girls to dance.

But Dad's at work; Mom's off doing her own thing. So it's just me to deal with my problems. As usual. No one understands, anyway. Just think I'm lazy. A big disappointment.

I quit drinking long enough to eat in the restaurant that's attached and drink some water. Why I bother; I don't know. The quicker I drink myself into a stupor the better. I can't even get drunk properly!

I keep watching the door, hoping someone would come in. Someone who gave a damn. Like that'd happen.

About ten o'clock, the door opens again and in comes a walking wet dream. She's about six foot, head to toe in black leather. Jacket worn open over a shirt of some sort that left nothing to the imagination. Neither did the painted on pants. I have never wanted to be a pair of pants so much in my life! I hope she removes her sunglasses soon 'cause I'm dying to see her eyes. Her hair was thick, brown, and long. And she was headed this way.

"Is this seat taken?" She asked, her voice low and as sexy as she looked.

"No, please sit down." I can't believe I managed a complete sentence, let alone sounded normal. I've never seen anyone this gorgeous, let alone talked to her. She takes off her sunglasses and gives me a sexy smirk. Her eyes are as blue as the hottest part of a flame. I realize I'm staring and blush and turn away.

But not before I see a knowing grin. There goes my attempt at being cool. Like anyone like her would go for a loser like me anyway. It'd be nice though. Sigh. Maybe if I poured on the charm... Hell, maybe if I have any charm. Somewhere. Deep inside.

"Do you come here often?"

That's my voice -- why did I say something so damn stupid?!

"No, but I think I'll start." Again with that sexy grin. God, it should be illegal to be that damn sexy! "How about you, darlin'? Are you here often?"

OMG... she called me 'darlin''! "Every Friday and Saturday night I love the bands, not beer." I hastily explain, not wanting her to think I'm a drunk. Despite evidence to the contrary.

She laughs. "At least you have good taste in music." Yep, her laugh is sexy, too.

I beam. "Thanks."

"Would you like another? I'm headed that way," pointing to my nearly empty bottle.

I know you shouldn't accept drinks from anyone, but I say okay and dig into my pocket for two bucks.

She shakes her head. "I'll get this round; you can get it next time."

I agree. Woo hoo! She's gonna sit with me for awhile! "While you're doing that, I think I'll visit the ladies'."

"All right."

I hurry to the ladies' room. I don't want to make her wait. No need to give her too much time alone so she can realize she can find someone better. I wonder if she wants a drinking buddy or a little company in between the sheets. She was flirting, so I assumed the latter. Can't say I mind either way. Though I'd prefer more than just a night. Shit. I'd fuck that up too. It's not like I'd ever done it before. Well, in real life. With someone else present.

I need some reassurance and pull out my buddy, a small stuffed sheep named Lynn dressed in a leather outfit remarkably like the tall stranger's and attached to my key chain. I talk to her all the time. She's the only one who listens to me. Thank god I'm alone in here.

"I wish I could have you out so you could see her... she's *gorgeous*. Dressed just like you. I wish I had a chance with her. What do you think? Should I go for it?" I listen intently, pretending as usual that she was answering.

"Of course you have a chance, dumb ass. Just go with the flow and stop overanalyzing everything. Christ, you are such a girl sometimes." Lynn's always blunt, but it's what I need.

Hearing what I want to hear, I leave the bathroom.

She's already back when I get to our seats. "I hope you don't mind draft. They under ordered Bud Lite bottles and I didn't know what else you might like."

"No, I prefer draft. I just feel like a lush getting a pitcher for one."

She looks slightly relieved. "Well, there's two of us, so no lushes."

"True. Thanks... for the beer." I finish lamely, realizing I don't know her name. Or how to ask.


After a few minutes, she stands and shrugs off her jacket, neatly hanging it over the back of the stool. What I thought was a shirt is actually a vest. Mm... she's buff. Her shoulders and arms aren't really huge proportionally, but they're quite well defined... and sexy. Mm... I love muscles. And I'm trying not to get started on hands -- and what hers are doing to me.

Especially now that she's offering me one and asking me to dance.

I tentatively take it and let her pull me up and on the floor. Her hand is so warm and strong... so much bigger than mine. Stupid midget hands. She smiles and pulls me close, slipping one strong arm low around my waist and taking my other hand and holding it gently in her own. I slip my other arm around her waist as well. I can feel the heat of her body through the leather and across the polite distance she's keeping between us. She's leading us in a very smooth two step, not doing anything untoward. I wonder if it's the club's predominately straight clientele or the partner. Or is she -- the horror of it! -- *straight*. Straight girls do like to play with the lesbians. My gaydar could be malfunctioning. But she's not making it ping; she's making it shout, "We're over here!" to help the others find our position. Besides, Lynn said she's gay.

Regardless, even this polite dance is wonderful. Her lead is so gentle and natural and effortless, I don't feel like I have three left feet -- all going in different directions.

"That's it, darlin', just relax. It's all right." She murmurs in my ear. All the water in my body rushes south to catch the action.

I move closer to her. If I'm gonna be this damn turned on, a little more won't hurt. Yeah, I don't believe it either.

I move closer to her and finally relax a little. We still aren't quite touching, but that's all right.

"I love this song."

I'm surprised when she starts to sing along, rather off key to "You Were Mine" by the Dixie Chicks.

Even off key, with such melancholy lyrics, the effect is quite romantic and I melt. She pulls me fractionally closer.

When the song's over, she puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me back to our seats. "Thanks for the dance." She pauses and blushes. "You know, it just occurred to me, we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Keira." She offers me her hand.

I take it. "Jordan."

"Jordan. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

I blush and she laughs and goes back to her beer.

"The band's pretty good," I venture a few minutes later.

"Yeah, it is. Who is it?"

"Aces & Eights. I've heard them before; they're one of my favorites."

"I can see why."

"Ooh, I *love* this song! Wanna dance?" Oh, my god... that was *my* voice.

She grins and nods, jumping up and offering her hand again.

I take it, relieved, and let her draw me out onto the floor and into her arms. She holds me slightly closer, though still politely, as we two-step to Tim McGraw's "Red Ragtop".

I was twenty and she was eighteen,
we were just as wild as we were green, in the ways of the world
she picked me up in that red rag top,
we were free of the folks and hiding from the cops,
on a summer night runnin' all the red lights
we parked way out in a clearin' in a grove and the night
was hot as a coal burnin' stove,
we were cookin' the gas we had to last
In the back of that red rag top
She said please don't stop

Well the very first time her mother met me,
her green eyed girl was a mother to be for 2 weeks
I was out of a job and she was in school,
life was fast and the world was cruel
We were young and wild, we decided not to have a child
So we did what we did and we tried to forget
and we swore up and down there would be no regrets
in the morning light,
but on the way home that night
On the back of that red rag top
She said please don't stop..
lovin' me

We took one more trip around the sun,
It was all make believe in the end,
No I can't say where she is today,
I can't remember who I was, back then
Well you do what you do and you pay for your sins,
and there's no such thing as what might've
been, that's a waste of time; drive you outta your mind
I was stopped at a red light just yesterday beside a young girl
in a cabriolet and her eyes
were green
I was in an old scene
I was back in that red rag top
On the day she stopped
Loving me
I was back in that red rag top
On the day she stopped
Loving me

I drift away into a fantasy of what I'd like to do in her backseat... and am rather smug because babies so ain't gonna happen. Unless Tommy Reynolds was right and there's such a thing as a spit baby... Since Tommy thought Elvis was in Berlin serenading Hitler when he wasn't serenading cows, I think it's safe to say he was probably wrong. Or he's got an awful lot of explaining to do to his daddy when the cows start dropping calves without benefit of a bull.

"What are you snickering over, darlin'?"

"Just enjoying knowing whatever I did in the backseat, I couldn't get knocked up. Neither of us would have the proper equipment." No need to mention Tommy. And I could still get confirmation.

She pulls me fractionally closer and chuckles. "Me either."

"Woo hoo!"

Oh, shit! I said it aloud.

She laughs. "Oh, c'mon, like there was any doubt, darlin'."

I blush.

"Have I told you how cute you are when you blush, darlin'?"

Getting a tour of her backseat is looking more and more likely.

I wonder if it's red?


If that wasn't embarrassing enough, I discover I only have enough cash to pay for the pitcher, so I'll have to walk five miles home, or call Mom and probably wake her up. Or really impressed Keira. Of course, I'd still have to call home... And even if nothing happened, no one would ever believe it. Mm... She's worth a lifetime of slut jokes. And lectures about how bars weren't a good place to meet women. They were usually in a bar for a reason and it wasn't interior decorating. Not that Mom's wrong, but Keira's an exception.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern shining from those gorgeous blues. (Have I mentioned I *really* like her eyes? Mm...)

I blush still again and confess my cash flow problem, adding that I'll have access to more cash when the bank opens on Monday. Or tomorrow if I can catch a ride. (They won't let you walk through the drive thru and the lobby isn't open.) And the fact I'd have to wake Mom.

"Ah. I can run you home or lend you the cash, if you like. I'm only an ax murderer on Thursdays."

I laugh. "Thanks, I'd really appreciate it. I must've tipped a ten instead of a one."

"I did that with a hundred once on pay day. Fortunately, the bartender noticed and gave it back."

"That was nice."

"Yeah, it was. I saved up a while and gave him two hundred. I'd have been up the crick if he'd kept it."

"I bet. I think I would've too."

"It turned out to my benefit, anyway. He slipped me free drinks all the time when the boss wasn't around. Tipped him ten or twenty a week and we were *both* happy. Then he married my brother and I still don't have to pay for drinks when I visit."

"Sounds like a great guy." I'm relieved to discover this wasn't before she saw the light. Or at least, she wasn't in the dark with him.

"Yeah, he is. They're buying the place from the owner. He wants to retire in a couple years."



The conversation peters out, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. We just sit and enjoy the band. I'm just about to excuse myself to the ladies' to talk to Lynn when she rests her arm across the back of my chair. I wonder if she's making a move or if she just needs to stretch out her arm. It could be either. I'm not moving anyway. I know what she'll say anyway. I love my Lynn, but she's predictable.

We dance a few more times. She leaves her arm around me between dances. Very loosely and causally, but still. She's not pressing anything; there's no rush. But it's pretty clear she's interested in more than dancing. At least I *hope* that's what it means. A quick whispered conference with Lynn bolsters my confidence that I'm right.

"This song makes me think of you," she says as they play Blake Shelton's "She Doesn't Know She's Got It." "Dance with me, darlin'. They're playing our song."

I laugh. "Wrong song; wrong guy."

She joins in. "I know, darlin'... I couldn't resist."

It feels so incredible to dance with her, as I've said before.. lol, probably entirely too often. She sings along:

On Friday night when I see her out

Even in a crowd she's hard to miss

There ain't a man breathing air

Who wouldn't stop and stare

And the best part is..

She doesn't know she's got it

She doesn't know how bad we want it

She doesn't know she's got it

And that's what's a gettin' to me

She'll close her eyes when the music plays

And the way she sways

Really rocks the room

She doesn't mean to get things stirred

It's just a thing in her that was born to move

She doesn't know she's got it

She doesn't know how bad I want it

She doesn't know she's got it

And that's what's a gettin' to me

I'm gonna work my courage up

Tell her I'm in love

I'm in love a lot

She has my heart on a string

Like everything the girl has got

She doesn't know she's got it

She doesn't know how bad I want it

She doesn't know she's got it

And that's what's a gettin' to me

She doesn't know she's got it

She doesn't know how bad I want it

She doesn't know she's got it

And that's what's a gettin' to me

I shiver at how romantic it is. There's no doubt she's seducing me now. She doesn't seem in any hurry; she makes no further advances.

I'm gonna lose my virginity soon. There's no question; I'll deal with any consequences later. The only question is when. If there are any consequences. She seems really nice; not all S&M-y like the leather makes her look. I'm pretty sure she's the slow, deliberate type. She's so gentle; she holds me as if I'd break. She's obviously powerful, but I feel safe with her. She's not gonna hurt me. If I can't let her after all, I know she won't make me. Now to just figure out how to explain this to my friends and family if they find out. I'll practice on Lynn later. She's good about stuff like that.

I wonder if Keira will kiss me soon?

Just as we're walking off the dance floor, another song she likes begins and she guides me back on with a puppy dog look. I laugh and agree.

We dance several more times; closer now, more intimately. It's wonderful.

We sit down after I plead exhaustion. She puts her arm around me again. I lean against her, resting my head on her shoulder. It's a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but worth the contact.

"Wanna get a booth?" she asks, a little shyly.

"Sure." Hell, I'd agree to just about anything at this point.

She leads me to a booth in a dark corner. It actually had a better view of the band. She let me in first, then slides in close. She tugged me to her again. I lean into her and slip my own arm around her. It feels fantastic.

I have no clue how long we sit all wrapped together before she clears her throat and, looking nervous, she says, "Listen, I know this is a little forward, but I've been having a lot of fun and well... it's getting close to two and I sorta, um, thought that maybe I should ask now instead of waiting 'til the last minute -- which I guess I am, anyway -- but I didn't want to be too forward -- which I guess I already said -- and I have been anyway, anyway -- I was just thinking -- shit, I said that already, too -- god, I'm *so* bad at this -- I need a beer--"

I'm amazed. She said all that without pausing to breathe. She'd been putting the moves on me all night long, and *now* she's all nervous and incoherent? Women! But it's still cute. "Just say it... I'm sure I'll say yes."

I can't make out what she mumbles next. "Try that again slower."

"Can I see you again? Can I have you number?"

"Please and of course." I pull out a leather bound memo book from my right back pocket and write down my number. I rip out the page and hand it to her.

She grins and sticks it into her jacket pocket.

Suddenly, the bartender yells, "Last call for alcohol!"

"Want anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good."


Now that closing time's eminent, I begin to get a little nervous. I'm not sure what to expect when we leave. Will she simply take me home with promises to call? Or will she ask me to spend the night? Or something in between? I know I don't want to leave her company so soon, but I'm not sure if I should sleep with her now that she's asked to see me again. But if I don't, maybe she won't wanna. I resolve to stop worrying and just go with it. I can almost hear Lynn baa agreement.

"Um, do you mind coming to my motel for awhile? I need to sober up a little before I can drive. I drank more than I meant to after offering to take you home. I mean, I got the motel room so I could get trashed without worrying driving, but I should've been more careful. Um, I'm not trying to you know..." She trails off, blushing and a little nervous.

I'm torn for just a split second, but she's so cute, I agree. Still nervous, but sure. Lynn and I are gonna have a lot to talk about soon, I can feel it.

"Can we leave then? I don't want to be on the road when this place empties out."


She slides out of the booth and offers me her hand. I take it and let her help me up. She grabs her jacket with her other hand and leads us out. She pauses to shrug it on when we get outside, then takes my hand again. We walk slowly down the dark road. It's really dark and I'm a little scared. But she holds my hand a little tighter.

And I'm not scared anymore.

It doesn't take much longer to get there. It's a little Mom & Pop place; simple, but clean. The perfect place to sleep off a drunk. She leads me to a room on the end, the one furthest from the all night diner.

She opens the door and ushers me in. She stops just inside the door and sticks her hands in her jacket pockets, looking as awkward and nervous as I feel. "Coffee. I should make some coffee." She blurts and rushes for the coffee maker on the dresser. It doesn't look like standard issue. "I'm glad I thought to bring mine. Those little two cuppers just don't do it."

"No, they don't."

"Oh, where's my manners? Please sit down and make yourself at home."

I look around and notice only one bed and no chairs. I sit down. It'd be really easy to set the coffee down on the nightstand and...

"So, um, would you like the radio on?"

"Sure." Music is good.

We sit, just listening to the radio and waiting for coffee, then drinking coffee. I'm wondering if/when she's gonna make a move. We've drank half a pot when it finally happens. Jessica Andrews is singing "You Go First." After hearing "Do you wanna kiss?" for the hundredth time (I love the song, but really! I think the poor guy got the point after the first eighty repeats.), I finally burst out, "Goddammit, would you kiss me already?!"

She looks startled. "Um, are you sure? I don't wanna rush you..."

I mentally count to ten as I roll my eyes. Who knew chivalry could turn out to be a bad thing? "You're not. Just kiss me."

"Okay." She looks so nervous, yet serious as she puts an arm around me, shakes her head, and stands up. I'm confused. She offers me her hand and pulls me to my feet. She wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me snug against her. My heart is racing. She leans down and tentatively presses her lips to mine. It's nothing like I expected my first kiss with a girl to be. It's not bad; just not like I imagined. No fireworks are going off; no deep disembodied voice is proclaiming "Now you are a proper lesbian!"; no choir of angels is singing.

I guess she sees disappointment in my eyes, because her lovely face falls and she starts to pull away, mumbling apologies.

I tighten my grip and move one hand up to palm her neck. The feel of her hair flowing over my hand does funny things to my groin. I momentarily slip into a nice little fantasy of where else her hair could touch my skin, but I return to reality when I feel her tense. I tilt her head down and raise up to kiss her. I kiss her with more confidence than I feel and *this* time, I hear bells. Okay, it's my watch alarm, but it still counts. I think with a little practice, this kissing thing will get even better. I blush and bury my face in her shoulder. She's stiff in my arms; I confess I'd never done that before.

She relaxes a little. "At all, or just with a girl?"

"With a girl. But I only did it a few times with a guy and that was years ago. I didn't like it then."

"I've never kissed anyone before," she says quietly.

I nearly get whiplash from looking up in shock.

She's blushing. "I've had plenty of offers, just never wanted to. I have a confession to make. Um, we've met before. We had a class together last year. Introduction to theater. I've, um, been, er, trying to approach you ever since and just keep chickening out. I was about to once out here, but you were with some girl. I didn't discover 'til last weekend that she was your sister. She was, uh, hitting on me and I kinda... went off on her for being a cheating bitch."

I don't even know where to begin... but I roar with laughter at the last part. My sister is a little bulldog of a girl. She's not someone you wanna cross, but an excellent person to have at your back in a bar brawl. Not that we've ever been in one or anything. Lynn snickers from my pocket. All I can think to say is "Stalker!" and I kiss her cheek.

"You're not mad?" She asks, tentatively.

"I'm not sure *how* I feel. But I don't think I'm mad. Just shocked." I say honestly.

"Um, do you want me to take you home now?" She asks awkwardly.

"No, of course not. You're not sobered up yet." She probably is, but I'm not ready to go yet. The more I think about it, the more sweet it is. I mean, I'm not a random one-nighter; she was there and dressed like this just for me. She'd seemed really nice all evening, so nothing was really changed... "Nothing's changed between us, Keira. It's really quite sweet."

She relaxes in my arms in relief. "Um, I'm glad you're not mad."

"Nope. Now, wanna try this kissing thing some more?" I grin.

Do I really have to tell you what happens next?

Her kisses are... mm... She makes my knees weak and we end up laying on the bed, laughing and kissing. She's so... warm and heavy and oh-so-nice.. Her scent, her touch, everything about her arouses me. I tug on her jacket and she sits up long enough to tug it off, then returns to our make out session. I run my hands over her exposed shoulders and arms, enjoying the twitch of her muscles as she braces herself over me. I can't believe I was disappointed with her kiss. I wish we never had to stop. I wonder if I should ask her to? Then she starts kissing my jaw and neck and drives the thought right out of my head.

God! I never knew my body could feel like this. Her kisses are gentle, unhurried, but unmistakably passionate. I feel... cherished; worshipped.

I don't know how long we kiss before her hand hesitantly touches my breast. I arch into her hand to encourage her. She slowly explores my chest, oh-so-gently. Have I mentioned how much I *love* her hands?

Oh! Her hand on bare skin is even better. I guide her hand to the hem of my shirt and give it a little tug to encourage her to take it off. She helps me sit up and takes it off, and allows me to remove her vest. Sweet Jesus! She's even more gorgeous half naked. Her breasts are smaller than mine, but still a little too big for me to cup completely in my hands.

She tenses and pulls away from my happy hands. "Um, I don't think I'm ready after all..." and she starts to reach for her vest.

"What's wrong, baby? Was I doing it wrong?"

"No, no, it's not you. It's me. I just panicked for a minute there. It felt kinda scary. I think I can keep going, though."

"We don't have to. We could just cuddle, if you like. Or we don't have to touch at all. Whatever you want is okay with me."

"You wouldn't mind? It'd be okay to stop?"

"Yes." Inside, I'm screaming "NO!!!" Lynn baas in horror.

She grins happily. "I think I can then. If we can stop if it gets too scary."

"Maybe we should stop for the night?" No, no, no! I'm not saying this! Lynn can't believe it either... I can hear her from my pocket. "And maybe we could try again tomorrow?"

She considers the idea. "No, I think I wanna keep going. If you wanna, of course."

Yes! Yes! Yes! "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Let's lay back down, okay?"

"Okay." I agree and stretch out comfortably. She returns to her place on top of me and starts kissing me shyly. I run my hands up and down her bare back. The touch of bare breasts to bare breasts is incredible. Her skin is so soft, but her muscles are hard, but in a good way. I don't have the words to adequately describe what's happening. The things she's doing with her hands and mouth -- I can't believe I'm her first. My breast is in her mouth and the other one is being rubbed and pinched by her free hand. God, my boxers must be soaking. I've never been this turned on in my life. I pray she won't get nervous on me again. Judging from the growly moans she's making around my breast, I don't think I have to worry.

I don't know how long she uses her mouth on my breasts before she tentatively brings her hands to my zipper. She looks up for permission and I nod. She fumbles for a minute before she gets them unfastened. I raise my hips to help her pull them off. She pauses when she sees my boxers and looks for permission to remove them as well. She chuckles. "I should've known you were a boxer girl."

I give her a mock glare. "Very funny, Miss Commando."

She gives me a very sexy wink. "What makes you think I'm not wearing any underpants?"

"A thong?" I say weakly.

She just grins and finishes undressing me. If I hadn't been so involved in a very nice fantasy, I would've been much more nervous about being naked. It's not like anyone had ever seen me like this or anything.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. She's taking off her pants. Slowly. She's giving me a very sexy, very knowing smirk. She knows how much she's teasing me. She can probably *see* me getting wet. Can you really spontaneously combust? I think I'm gonna find out. Sweet Jesus. Oh, fuck. She really *is* wearing a thong. A black one. She leaves it on and crawls back over to me, panther-like. I'm gone right then. Do not pass go; do not collect two hundred dollars. She doesn't even have to touch me. It's brief, but... whoa! Nothing I'd ever imagined compared.

When I'm aware of my surroundings, she's looking at me in concern and fear. "Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head. "God no!" I blush furiously. "I, um, you know..." I couldn't say the words. I couldn't even really look into her eyes.

She looks confused for a minute, then her face clears. She beams and puffs out her chest. "I did that without even touching you there?"

I blush and nod. She's so damn cute.

"Um, are you too, um, sensitive, for me to touch you?"

I regretfully nod, embarrassed.

"It's all right... I'm glad to know I can satisfy you. Wanna see if you can do that to me? Or are you too tired? You don't have to or anything..." she trails off, blushing.

"I think I have enough energy for you."

"Cool." She rolls off me onto her back and holds out her arms for me.

I arrange myself on top of her a bit awkwardly and prop myself up on my elbows. If possible, laying on top of her is even better than being under her. I groan in pleasure. She echoes it and holds me tight. I begin to give her soft kisses, but soon things heat up and I'm fondling those amazing breasts and she's not stopping me. She's actually arching into my uncertain touch; whispering for me to suck her. I move down and take her in my mouth. Her skin tastes... mm... yummy... and I can't get enough of her. She's not protesting. As a matter of fact, she's squirming and moaning. Whatever I'm doing, it must be right. I let Lefty venture forth to explore where no man has gone before. I find plenty I wanna visit later. She's got very lickable abs. I don't want to freak her out by trying that now. My hand also finds some nice soft cloth to play with. I wonder if she'll let my hand under her thong.

Yes, she will. She just grabs it and stuffs it under the wisp of cloth that passes as an undergarment. I think I'm doing this right. She's so hot and wet. I fumble around a bit before finding the right spot. It's not like I've ever had to find it from this angle. I'm apparently going too slowly because she grabs my hand again and shows me what she likes. She's pressing me down pretty hard, I'm afraid I'm hurting her. I'm not sure how to ask. Her hips are bucking, she's so wet and getting wetter, and she's moaning and whimpering. I'm pretty sure she's enjoying it. Her movements become erratic and I'm pretty sure she's about to come.

She does, shouting my name. She collapses, breathing evenly. I'm not sure what to do next. I move my hand cautiously. Not a flinch. I look up. Her eyes are closed and she's smiling slightly.

Ohmigod! I've made her pass out! I beam in pride. Damn, I'm good. But what to do now? "Keira? Baby?" No sign of waking.

I think a few minutes, then carefully get up to ask Lynn. She gives me a 'you go girl' baa and suggests I just settle in and get some sleep. After calling my mom. She's probably worried sick. I concur, hoping for a repeat of the past however long in the morning. I turn off the coffeepot. Don't want it to boil dry. I empty and rinse out the carafe and our glasses.

I look at my watch -- it's only four a.m. Mom's gonna kill me. After she's sure I'm okay. She is indeed worried sick. I apologize and tell her I'm staying with a friend who lives down the road because I'm broke and drunk and she's too drunk to drive. She offers to come get me, but I tell her I might as well stay since I'm about to fall asleep, anyway. She reluctantly agrees. I tell her I'll call when I get up, but it'll probably be fairly late. I hang up and survey the situation. I shrug and curl up beside my... girlfriend? Things will sure be interesting in the morning. Lynn baas contently and we both drift off to dream.

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