His fingertips gently traversed the moist surface, examining every tiny crevice and bump, as though he didn't know what pussies were like. I was sure hoping he knew, though. He stroked gently, though, like a man who's had plenty of experience. My tender flesh tingled at every touch. Yes, he knew how to make me want more. He could read my mind, as I had read his, and knew that the ultimate arousal lies in the anticipation of going a step further, imagining that step, craving it… a low scream rising within; yes, he knew.
He had not yet touched my clitoris. He circled it, rubbed the lips around it, approached it only to turn back, as though it were something too sacred to be touched casually with fingers and harsh fingernails. And all I could thin of was how his tongue, with its rough and slick surfaces would feel licking and lapping at it…
He made me wait a few moments longer before gesturing for me to lower myself, which I did gladly it in any direction, point it, make a tunnel out of the middle of it. God, what a tongue. Again, though, he avoided my clitoris with what seemed deliberate intention.
What if he doesn't know? Oh my God, what if he thinks it's all in the vagina, that horrible myth that frustrated at least one generation of women after being told all their troubles were sexual anyway! Probably some guys think girls are just cunts, holes, receptacles, with nothing external that really counts. I'd soon know where he stood and I was going to be terribly disappointed if he happened to be one of the unenlightened ones.
But he knew, of course, he knew; how silly of me to have thought otherwise. His tongue was now getting closer and closer – no, not yet touching, but approaching, teasing. And as I waited, utterly distraught by the suspense, I knew my clitoris was bulging outward more and more, the blood rushing to it, making it hard and erect even though he still hadn't touched it at all. What fantastic agony! What expertise he had! So few, so very few men really know how to lift a girl to such giddy heights of sensation.
"More! More!" I yelled at last, unable to contain myself.
Now he brought his teeth against me, against the lips, the edges. His tongue was pointed directly at my clit, I was sure, and I wished I could make this small but magnificently sensitive organ of mine larger, wished I could make it reach out to that tongue, for that was what I wanted now, more than anything else in the whole world. Either the scraping of the top of his tongue or the wet softness underneath would do. Anything! Anything! Please, can't you tell how I'm dying for it, perishing from your exquisite torture? Please give me more, give me what I want, hurt me if you must, but do something, here where I need it so badly…
No, I said none of this out loud, somehow feeling that I should hide the extreme desperation of my desires. I wondered how much he understood of what I really felt, really craved. He seemed so certain of his technique. So are other men… but this one really had a right to be confident. He knew how to drive a girl wild.
His teeth gnawed at me hungrily. He loves this, I know – loves this the way I love to suck cock. For its own sake and nothing else.
His tongue, on my God, how close it gets, then stops just short of the goal. Closer and closer. Now? Almost, yes, but he whips it away again. On, the bastard, the beautiful bastard!
"Ohhhhh," I scream, totally forgetting where I am and who I am, for he has just grazed the tender underside of it, yes, right where I want it… and I want more. More!
And now his tongue darts alternately from my clit to my hole, not lingering at either spot, making me hotter and hotter in both places. And it's good. Each spot is so sensitized now that I hardly know which. I prefer. Fast and furious he works, this marvelous lover.
Back and forth from my hole to my clit, clit to hole, again and again, with swiftness and concentration such as I thought no man was capable of.
Why do I say that: as I thought no man…? Because I've had really so little success with men, sexually, I mean. Only a few do it right, somehow.
And I'll confess – I have to, don't I? – what I thought of as my Number Fourteen, my hospital lover, was giving me these delightful ministrations. Yes, I stopped thinking of him. I remembered Claudine and the time we went to Big Sur and camped on the beach…
Now, I'm not a lesbian. I've never had an experience of that sort before or since, but I've had a hard time forgetting it…
We were friends, nothing more, and I never expected anything out of the ordinary to happen. But we were so alike, both brunette, slender, Latin-featured, slim-legged, firm-breasted. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror somehow.
Yes as his tongue lapped at me furiously I remembered waking up to the sound of the rushing waves to feel Claudine's soft fingertips prying apart my thighs. It was like a dream, and anything can happen in dreams, so I didn't protest. In fact I had no idea that it was real. I lay there as her fingers progressed from my thighs to the tender flesh between, which was wet, terribly wet.
And I remember her whispering, "We both want this," clasping me in her arms as she did so.
And I think I said, "Yes."
"Yes" that's what I was saying now to my hospital love, my Number Fourteen, and somehow it was as though I was saying it again to Claudine.
His tongue, all curled and pointed, penetrated my gaping hole, prodding as deeply as it could, scraping the sides, making me think of cock, how great it would be to have a cock inside me, his cock, anybody's cock…
But as he drew his tongue out, my memories of Claudine returned, for now he was very gently sucking at me, sort of drawing my clit into him. I remembered how I had felt when Claudine did that, so expertly, so much better than any man had ever done…
How beautiful it was as we lay there, our supple bodies entwined, as she did everything I'd always wanted, knowing what to do, for she too was a woman, a creature so like me, my mirror-image. And strangely, as she lay on top of me, grinding her mound against mine in a desperate attempt to get closer, closer than was possible, I wished that she had a penis for somehow it was not quite enough…
Then, the darting and the lapping of her tongue, into me as far as it would go… and I pretended it was a penis. How strange, how incredible it all was! And how feverishly passionate I became, squirming against her and thrusting my clitoris against her, wishing it were larger, wishing there was some way we could really fit, just as I was squirming against this anonymous creature under me now, wanting more and more.
Claudine knew how to make up for, my impossible longings, for the feverish lashing of her tongue drove me to heights of pleasure hitherto unknown. Tinglings of sensation that traveled up my spine and even made the back of my head feel strange. Fire and ice, that's what it was like, the extremes of sensations, the opposites that converge – in the wildest possible of ecstasies…
Oh, Claudine… why must I think of Claudine? Why can't I focus on this nice young male creature beneath me, whose tongue is so very like hers? Why? But I must. Even as he sucks so gently, bites without giving pain, produces every perfect sensation, I remember the rushing of the waves, the dim quarter moon, the uniting of two soft bodies, so much alike.
Faster and faster, ever more deliciously, traversing only the underside of my clit before sinking into my hole. What a tongue! What tingling! My whole body trembling now, I squirm. I thrust, even. I don't care what I do, I'm going to get mine. I close my eyes, and it's Claudine's face I see as my body becomes lost in sheer rapture.
Now, yes, a slight pounding, rising from somewhere deep inside me. The beat of an ancient drum, the beat of a heart, the rhythm of the universe, and somehow it's Claudine's tongue that is evoking this, bringing me to this point of no return. My pussy swells and expands, and for one brief moment it's like hearing a high-pitched sound, a primal cry, yes, accompanied by a flash of light and the blessing of the Gods. For I have passed the gateway to paradise now. I hover on the very brink of the sheer precipice…