Free Story – Pussy Lapping 101

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She was only being supportive…how could she know it would lead to lust?

The event was listed as a debate. Two of the colleges best and brightest—who happened to be one male and one female—would be arguing a political proposition in Adams Hall at 1 PM. It didn’t sound like the most fascinating event of the year, but it was a grey, dreary, chilly Saturday, hardly the best time for outdoor activities, none of my friends was up for doing anything, and I was too restless to stay in. So I decided to go to the debate.

The guy who was debating didn’t play fair. He kept bringing both personal and sexist issues into his arguments, and pretty quickly it became apparent that he had Sharon, the girl, unnerved. She was losing her train of thought and even losing her composure. He attacked her viciously, and she lost more ground. The more he smelled blood, the more savage his attacks grew, till finally, the debate had degenerated into free-for-all name-calling. It was the nastiest thing I had ever seen.

From the murmurings around me, it seemed a lot of the girls in the audience were disgusted with Sharon, rather than sympathetic. They felt she had given up too easily, was letting him take control, and was not fighting back the way she ought to have. But how could she? I thought. In the face of such a vicious attack, all but the strongest and most capable would easily lose their composure. I was only surprised no one in an official capacity had stepped in to halt the bloodbath.

When the debate ended…a lopsided victory for the guy, I sought out Sharon to offer her my sympathy. It was clear from the reactions around me that most of the girls in the crowd weren’t sympathetic to Sharon. And I knew she could use the support.

She didn’t know me at all, but I instinctively put my arms around her in sympathy and comfort when I went up to her after the debate. When I did, she broke down in a torrent of tears, catching me off-guard. I held her, stroked her back, comforted her, and then suggested we get away from the thinning crowd, out of sight of her tormentor, away from the scene of the crime. “I’ll buy you a nice cup of tea,” I offered. “Maybe some lunch, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I just want to go home,” Sharon sobbed, “but I’d appreciate the company if you felt like coming with me.”
“Home” turned out to be off-campus housing just a few blocks away. I walked her there, picking up a couple of blueberry muffins and a couple of cranberry scones at a bakery we passed along the way. At Sharon’s little apartment, we sat on the daybed and talked about college. She had a scone; I ate a muffin. She made some herbal tea.

Unfortunately, at one point I offered her my sympathy about the debate again, unleashing a fresh flood of tears. Once again, I offered my arms around her as a comfort. Once again, she sobbed onto my shoulder. But this time, as her ragged sobs began to abate, I became aware that her upper body was pressed against mine even harder than before, and then her breathing, which was beginning to even out, had started to grow deeper and more passionate.

Sharon was showing every sign of being turned on!

I had never had a girl show any interest in me sexually before, and I had never felt the stirrings of sexual desire for another girl myself, either, but I’m not so naïve that I didn’t see what was happening. My first reaction was astonishment, followed by feeling flattered, and then my curiosity—what would it be like to make love with another girl? Finally, desire entered into the picture. As I imagined myself with my body entwined with that of another girl, her tongue perhaps licking at my pussy, I grew agitated in a needful way, my pussy pulsating and fluttering.

When Sharon pulled away from me, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. She looked into my eyes and then dropped her gaze in embarrassment. I raised her face and looked directly into her eyes. “It’s all right,” I whispered softly. “I know.”

“You do?”
“You want…you want to…you want me,” I finished finally. There. I’d said it for her.
“Yes. Yes, I do. But I didn’t know if you…if you….”
“I never have. But I’d like to try. I’d like to with you.”

Sharon’s hands were soft and gentle despite their obvious eagerness as she hastily unfastened my clothing and stripped it from me, then removed her clothes, and drew me down flat on the daybed. She covered me with kisses, trailing her way from my lips down.

She puckered her lips and softly brushed my receptive skin with darting kisses and quick tongue-flicks, covering every inch from my lips, down my chin and neck, across the top of my chest, down to my nipples. At my right nipple, she flicked her tongue tauntingly across my rose-beige nub, stiffening it into a little finger of want. Swirling her tongue around the wood-hard promontory, she left a glistening sheen of saliva on my nip, then blew on the moistened organ and left me tingling at the feel of the airstream titillating my peak.

Moving over to my left nipple, she kissed it, and I expected her to repeat the process, but instead, she grasped it lightly between her teeth. She began scraping upward with cautious teeth, tantalizing my nip with her scraping teasing. When she had both nipples in a state of high excitement, my pussy responded and began oozing love-lube rapidly. I felt all the muscles in my body growing tense, especially in my thighs and belly.

My ass began undulating on the bed, moving as if with a will of its own. My heat had soared to the point that I could no longer hold still on that bed, and my ass began bouncing up from the bed. Each upward thrust made my pussy that much hotter, till finally, I choked out the words, “Touch me. Touch me there.”

Sharon smiled knowingly, but she didn’t accede to my wishes right away. She did, however, begin to progress toward my pussy, her mouth leaving my nipples and making its puckered way down the expanse of my lust-tensed, flat belly, farther and farther, till at last, she’d reached the outskirts of my pussy-bush.

When Sharon’s lips were lost in the tangled thicket of wiry pubes, her tongue snaked out again, and she began to lick my skin through the jungle of hairs. Then she started nibbling, taking love nips till she was right over my labes. She nibbled my labes and teasingly nipped at them. I was so hot, I couldn’t stand it! I needed her to do something bolder, something less teasing, and more satisfying. I let out a groan of pure frustration. Sharon got the message.

With a knowing chuckle, she thrust her tongue out and speared between my lust-swollen labia, making contact with my honeyed inner slit. My hips lurched upward and I groaned long and loud when her tongue swiped up and down my juice-slickened slot and came oh-so-near to my clit without quite touching it.

“Lick it! Lick my clit!” I groaned, going out of my head with total frustrated need.

Sharon burrowed into my slit and her tongue waggled its way to my passion peak. She made contact with the very tip, and she quickly began vibrating her tongue tip back and forth across the tip of my clit, brushing all the nerve endings. Suddenly on fire, I flopped around on the bed like a landed marlin. My body was totally out of control. I bucked and heaved as I drove toward a much-needed orgasm.

But Sharon had other thoughts. “Why don’t you do something for me for a while?” she asked. “There’s no rush to finish.”
I was in every rush to finish. But I could see her point. She might have been concerned; too, that, since I’d never done another girl before, I might leave her high and dry…if “dry” is the right word here!

Once my passions had been satisfied, I might go cold on her. I couldn’t blame her.
And it’s certainly true that I was a little uneasy when suddenly confronted with the point at which I was expected to do something for Sharon. I wouldn’t leave her hanging… but could I put my mouth… there?

I compromised at first, offering her a finger. Touching her thigh, I traced little patterns on her smooth, firm skin for a minute or two while I got myself used to the idea of touching another woman’s pussy. Then I slid my way cautiously up to her bush. I could feel the heat emanating from her overwrought slit as I parted her thick, lush labes and slid a hesitant finger into the moist heat of her sloppy slit.

But it felt like old familiar ground. The inside of her slit felt like the inside of my slit. Her clit felt very much like mine. Stroking it, I found, was not that different from stroking my own except that I didn’t get the corresponding tingles in response. I ran my finger around her exposed passion peak and enjoyed the way her body twisted and jerked and humped and writhed in reply.

Hmmm…maybe going down on her wouldn’t be as challenging as I had thought.

But I wasn’t quite ready yet. I fingered her clit a little longer, loving the sense of power I felt as her body contorted and writhed under my actions. Then, leaving my hand on her passion-soaked pussy, I shifted my body so my mouth was next to her breast. And I began to suck.

As my finger twiddled her clit, my tongue echoed its motions, working over her nipple, and my mouth sucked. And sucked. And sucked. At last, with no prompting from Sharon, I felt ready to close in on her clit with my mouth. Abandoning her full, lush breasts to travel south, I tongued my way down her quivering belly, through her richly soaked bush, and into her slit.

Taking a deep breath, I made contact with her clit. Her juices were all around my tongue. Her drenched clit was laden with her womanly outpouring. And I tasted pussy-juice for the first time. It was acrid and tangy and rich…and, if it didn’t turn me on instantly, like the taste of a guy’s cum, neither did it turn me off or gross me out. Deliberately I scooped up another tongueful of the stuff. And found that the taste was beginning to grow on me.

Then I squirmed around so my body was on top of Sharon’s and my pussy was over her face.

Burying my face in her richly fragrant muff, I thrust my tongue back onto her clit while need fully grinding my pussy down onto Sharon’s face. I could feel my juices leaking from my quivering hole and coating Sharon’s face; her juices drenched my nose and cheeks and chin and lips as well.

We bucked against each other like a pair of rodeo horses in tandem, our bodies writhing like eels. I increased the delight for Sharon by thrusting three fingers up inside her clenching tunnel, driving them in and out and fucking her deep and hard. She began to gasp and moan and I knew she was close to orgasm.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I urged her, mumbling into her slit as I continued tonguing her. Soon my Yes’s were merely grunted Ung’s and Uh’s, and then Sharon was grunting too as she strove hard to reach that peak she was almost in reach of.

I got there first. I surprised myself. I was so focused on getting Sharon off, I didn’t even stop to think of my own climax, and when it hit me, it startled me. My body peaked, shuddering into satisfaction till my toes curled. I screamed a little. Then Sharon screeched, and I realized she was cresting too.

When we had both begun breathing normally again, and I knew the storm of climax was passed for both of us, I squirmed around again and lay facing Sharon. We put our arms around each other and kissed each other as we held each other. The taste of my juices on her lips intrigued me. With my new-found appreciation for the taste of pussy-juice, I licked her face innocent of any hint of my outpouring, and she giggled and did the same for me.

The licking grew sensual, and soon we were off on another round of pussy-lapping, our bodies heaving as we both grew caught up in the throes of passion. I remember thinking, Now, here’s something I didn’t expect to learn in college—the joys of pussy-lapping. Then I was so caught up in sensations that I couldn’t form any more coherent thoughts.

And to think, if there’d been anything more interesting to do that day, I wouldn’t have gone to the debate at all. Life’s funny…and pussy-lapping is delightful.