1. The Secret Sharers


    Date: 10/3/2017, Categories: Fiction, Erotica, Extreme, Lesbian, Author: Cynthiia23, Rating: 25, Source: sexstories.com

    scent registers on me. As I recognize her individual taste. As I push skin away. As I probe. As I reveal. As I give to her in the only way I know how. Which is exactly the way I would give it to myself. I realize this is what makes it so different. There isn't a need to ask. Because I already know. Okay.... if not for certain, than with much more certainty. Because I've never had a penis. Or a dick. Or a cock. I've never had an erection at a time when I didn't want one. I've never been soft when I've wanted to be rock hard. I've never understood why being big was so important. I've never jerked off. Never experienced a blow job. Never squirted that thick milky stuff. Never had to, just had to come in your mouth. And never needed to be reassured that I like the way you taste, and yes, I can't wait to taste it again. imgur.com/9Ve38As With her there's none of that uncertainty. I know exactly what I'm doing. And so informed I give in just the same way I've always wanted to receive. In short, I am the perfect servant. Always anticipating my master's wishes. Knowing what they want even before they ask. And then giving it to them in just the right way. The right speed, the right pressure, the right duration. And most importantly... just the right place. No need to say, "right there, yeah there." Thinking to myself, "why can't he ever find it." It's not such a small target. And right now, it feels so red and swollen how could he not know what I want. So when her moans of approval ...
    become more demanding, I feel like the brainy kid in class who always knew the right answer. This is easy, I think to myself. As my tongue alternately flicks and nibbles and sucks and buzzes and probes and circles and lashes and licks and teases and tastes and, and, and... Oh god! Every sensation I give doubles back on itself and becomes my own. I move with confidence and grace born of a certainty gained from not only knowing the outcome... but controlling every moment that happens in the middle. From making this moaning, sweaty instrument my own orchestra. She is so close. Should I make her wait? Back off ever so slightly? Sometimes it's the empty space between the notes that is the most beautiful part of the music. Do I give her that last little nudge? The one that sets off a chain of events that can't be stopped. bit.ly/H0tsEx Or maybe I'll play both sides and keep her on the edge for so long that it all becomes like one of those confounding illusions where anxiety gets all mixed up with the incredible pleasure. But instead, like a child, I can't help myself... or her for that matter. Her orgasm becomes mine. I know every contraction, every shudder, that moment where the throbbing explodes against the base of my spine and throws my head back in a frantic limbic whiplash. "Come for me, baby," I whisper, "come". Everything begins to smear and blur and go totally out of focus and is that me saying god and goodness? Or is it her? Did she just come? Or did I? Have I lost or found ...
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