A few years back I had a fling with a girl I referred to as ‘the nineteen year old hottie’ (so creative I know…and notice the ongoing pattern I seem to have with people younger than me…sigh). It lasted about 5months before she went off to college out of state. At the time I was also having a long distance….. Thing? Affair? Relationship? Hell, I don’t know what to call it. And I’ll admit I had fallen in love with this other woman. I was caught between the emotions of wishing I was with someone else I couldn’t have readily and another who was insistent on the here and now and knew how to say all the right things and I found I couldn’t say no to. I’ve decided to post some of the recounts that were written- but never publicly posted, bc I couldn’t at the time.
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I ran into “her”. The hottie. The nineteen year old that had a body to like….die for. Tall. Legs that went to THERE. Last time I saw her she was wearing jeans that made her ass look like….amazing. And a waist that was tiny and exposed. It’s insane that she’s barely legal. It’s insane that I’m like…thirty-something (How did that happen?!). But how does it NOT make you feel good to have a chick that looks like her, be interested in you?! Insane. And she’s smart, as well as insanely flirtatious. And oh. so. sexy.
I invited her over to watch a movie. She gushed over my little dog. She has a Daschound that has a similar personality to my little rat dog (a Miniature Pin). That’s how conversation even initiated….several weeks ago, when we met at a party.
After it became late, I asked if she needed to go home. She laughed. And said no. No one was waiting for her at home. She was wearing an outfit similar to what she was wearing last time I saw her. Which had been jeans and a tiny fit little white Playboy bunny shirt. Which is actually what brought up our comparison of tattoo’s in the first place. Because the one on her back was slightly exposed. As was the one on my bikini line. The jeans I love to wear, my favorite ones, show, just barely that tattoo. And we had discussed how I want to get a cover up of one of my tattoos, the Playboy bunny.
Then. She kissed me. Like you kiss someone you long for, like a female kisses another female. Like I crave on a fucking regular basis. ….there is someone else. Who is amazing but lives so far away. Too far. I have never met anyone remotely like her (this someone else). She isn’t even my typical type. Nor am I hers. She pursued me. When I had stepped out of my bi-sexuality. When I was stuck in “mommy mood”. She awoke my desire. This other girl….
And as we were kissing, all I could think about was what it would be like to have her move down on me. That feeling. To feel her mouth on me, her tongue inside me…in such a way… I wanted this. And when a female does it…..it’s right. It’s perfect. It’s just different. She knows the exact right places for her tongue. Her lips. And where exactly to put her fingers. And stroke. The exact ‘right’ spot and way. That IT spot…
In what felt like desperation almost, I began pulling her jeans down. She had on pink, lacy panties. They were Tangas. I love how that word rolls off your tongue. So simple. So sexy sounding. She had just shaven and was so smooth, so bare. I have no idea what lotion she used. I couldn’t identify it. But she smelled of….lingering sweetness. I would never forget that smell. So…female. The lotion she used, the deodorant, the perfume…. Women use scents to identify themselves. And although I can’t name what she was wearing, if I were to smell it again, I could tell you it was her in a moment.
She stopped me. She drew my face to hers. We kissed. Passionately. It felt as if we wouldn’t ever get enough of each other. I don’t really know her. She really doesn’t know me. We were trying to figure out how to know each other.
Our jeans came off, although we were both still in panties. Our legs intertwined…as we kissed. I kissed her neck and softly breathed in her ear. She turned me over…on my stomach. And kissed, these angel kisses, they were that soft…all the way down my spine. I can still *feel* it…..that soft…like a butterfly is softly flapping it’s new wings against your skin. It gave me chills. And that feeling in your stomach, where you feel this insane giddiness. That just takes my breath away.
And then she was kissing my thighs. The tender spot where you feel your breath catching. THAT spot. And my mind is racing. Do I stop her??? I am incredibly attracted to her….. But I am so torn…..because of this other woman. That yes, I am in love with. That for months on end I have been dreaming she would do to me. What I have envisioned and wished her to do…..but sadly hadn’t seen her in months.
I couldn’t decide. So I pushed her over on her back. And slid her tiny shirt up. She is tall. And has a long, long torso. Her stomach, while she is laying on her back, is flat and sexy and oh. my. god….fucking enticing. And I lay those same butterfly kisses along her belly. Again, breathing her in. WHAT is she wearing?!!? That smell is just….amazing. She is wearing a bra. I ask her to take hers off. Which she does. Along with her shirt. I take off mine as well. (as well as my shirt). There is no way I can describe to be naked, except for your panties, next to another woman. So soft, so delicate…..
And I’d like to say that then she slid down and even if she had just breathed on me, it would have been just.like. heaven. But she didn’t. Because it just didn’t seem right. Because I am in love with another woman. And it’s not this hottie nineteen year old. It’s this “other” person. And for over a year I have tried to figure out how to either
make that work…or work around it or fix it. And I can’t. It’s unfixable.
To be continued….
(as I mentioned, we ended up seeing each other for a five month period and becoming quite close)
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Vixen
