WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are underage, wherever you are, PLEASE STOP READING NOW!!!!
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This is a very long and very slow burn tale. If you are expecting torrid love scenes from page one, you will be disappointed.
This is about seduction more than sex, but it is about sex too.
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Abigail By Christina di Filippo
On a Monday morning my boss asked me to join him on an initial visit to a potential client. I work in a medium sized architecture studio that specializes in internal design of business offices. I did not graduate in architecture but in fine arts, yet I have an uncanny spatial vision and the capacity of quickly and accurately translating ideas into sketches and then into drawings and into 3D views. I know AI is making inroads into my domain, but so far, I have consistently given better results.
Much as I have that special gift, I have my share of unusual quirks. The two most important are that I hate waking up early and I hate cold showers. My boss called me at 06:30, ticking the first of them. I then discovered that the gas supply to my area had been cut for maintenance, which meant no hot water. That ticked the second. I met my boss at the client's place, not in my best mood.
We were introduced to the client and to his assistant, Abi. I later found that her name was Abigail and that she hated it with all her might. Abi was a very interesting sample of womankind, interesting enough to change my foul mood. She was a very tall brunette (my guess 5'10"+), lean, with medium-sized boobs, very pretty, and extremely elegant. Elegant in her clothes, elegant in her demeanor and elegant in the way she put her thoughts on. With the exception that she almost never put any thoughts on. She was shy beyond measure.
The client had purchased two very old and identical industrial warehouses. They were beautiful buildings from the beginning of the 20th century, in a state of moderate disrepair. The client wanted to tear them down and build one single building, but due to planning restrictions, he could not get a license for additional space.
We visited the buildings that were parallel to each other, and tall enough for 3 floors each (ground floor plus two). After a few discussions I proposed to retrofit the two warehouses to their former grandeur and build some ultra-modern glass "bridges" linking the two warehouses at each of the floors.
Initially, nobody understood my proposal so, I got my sketchpad and translated it into a couple of sketches. The client liked the concept. Less construction costs, less time to completion and a sustainable final product. Sustainable is fashionable nowadays. Abi, whom I later discovered was graduated in Architecture and was pursuing a MArch, also loved the idea, and asked if she could keep my sketches. My boss was very happy because we were landing a new client before lunch on Monday.
After a few weeks of spec detailing and price haggling between the client and my boss, we got the contract, and I got a bonus. Not a bad one, to compensate for waking up early to a cold shower.
Abi became our counterpart in this project. Our company had a team of architects plus me. Considering Abi, we had lots of men plus the two of us. She had the double disadvantage of having me as her sole "partner in crime", and of being extremely shy. She was very impressed with my ability to translate ideas into sketches and feeding the results to the technical designers with all their CAD programs, so she stuck to me as an oyster to a rock.
One day we were in the meeting room at the construction site office, and she had a rather long call. I had nothing to do so I got my sketchpad and drew her. One sheet with three different drawings, from different perspectives. I was giving the final touches to the last one when she ended her call.
"What are you drawing so furiously?"
"Furiously, me? I'm sketching a few things while I wait for you to end your call so that we can go to the site."
"Are you having another architectural inspiration? Are you going to change the whole project?"
"No. It's just an inspiration based on beauty."
"Let me see!" And she came around the table to look at my `masterpiece'.
When saw it, she went red, almost crimson. She stammered, went back around the table, and started to gather her belongings. I signed and dated the sheet and pushed it to her.
"When I cut my ear off and become as famous as Van Gogh this will be worth something."
She smiled, visibly embarrassed, and said "Let's go." But she kept the drawings.
We visited the site, checking a few details and talking to the foreman. He suggested a modification that would make the construction easier and cheaper. I promptly sketched it, and he proposed a few changes to my sketch which I promptly incorporated. I promised to send it to the architects that same evening. Abi was observing the exchange in a dazzle.
"How can you capture a 3D idea given to you verbally and translate it into a semi-finished construction design?"
"It's a gift. I have been able to do that since I was very little. I guess my mum ate a CAD software disc when she was pregnant with me." She smiled and shook her head.
We walked towards our cars in silence, but when we parted ways, she asked why I had drawn her. "As I said, I had an inspiration based on beauty."
She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Don't joke! The drawing itself is beautiful, not the model."
"Can we discuss that tomorrow at lunch?"
"OK."
In Brazil we have a costume that when we meet or leave a close friend, male or female, we exchange kisses. It is more a cheek-to-cheek thing than an actual smooch. With time the custom became so generalized that now, with the exception of men that usually don't kiss men, everybody kisses almost everybody.
So, very naturally, I moved forward to kiss her, but she moved backwards, startled.
"Oh sorry! Anything wrong?"
"I apologize. It's just that I don't have the habit of kissing people."
"Well, now you have. At least with me!" And I approached my face again. She reluctantly smooched my face and became very red again.
"Seeya!"
I will not say that I wasn't sexually attracted to Abi from day one, but now a new, more objective plan started forming in my brain. I haven't told you yet, dear reader, that I'm a 31-year-old bisexual girl that loves enlightening straight girls on the joys of sapphic love.
We didn't meet for a couple of days but when we did, I kissed her. She made as if she would withdraw her face, but then allowed me to plant a kiss rather in the middle of her cheek. She went red again.
"Do you know you are even prettier when you blush?"
She became redder and made her dismissive hand gesture, saying, "Oh stop!"
"Hadn't we agreed to discuss that at lunch?"
"I agreed to have lunch with you. I hadn't agreed to any discussions regarding my prettiness or lack thereof."
So, we had lunch together and I didn't push the subject of her prettiness. I wanted her to open to me and making her uncomfortable was not the way to do it. In fact, we had several lunches together and each time I was able to make a millimetric inroad into that shy soul. On each occasion she would ask 90% of the questions and I would talk 90% of the time. Her questions were never personal. About college, about my drawing abilities, about projects I had participated in, etc. That was when I discovered that she was pursuing a MArch.
She seemed happy each time we met (and we kissed each other each time we met or left). One day I invited her to dinner the next Friday. She got a bit confused, as if I had invaded her comfort zone. "I usually don't go out at night."
"Why not?"
"I don't have company."
"Whaa! Now you do!"
"I don't know what to dress!"
"Oh, come on! You are one of the most elegant women I ever met professionally, and you don't know what to dress for a dinner with a friend? Don't mess with me!"
"Really, I'm always dressed like this. Pleated skirt, white blouse, pantyhose, and heels. I don't know how to dress like young people."
"If I may ask, how old are you?"
"26."
"Then stop behaving like you are 62. When we finish here today, we are going shopping."
"Are we?"
"Yes, and that is an order!" I said giggling.
After work we went to a very fancy shopping mall. I wanted to find a pair of designer jeans for her and an elegant blouse. The trouble with the jeans was that because she was so tall we couldn't find one that fitted. Until we did. It was tight, revealing an -- until then -- unsuspected pair of legs. Wow.
"It is too tight."
"Your head is too tight, girl. These jeans will make the men fall over themselves when they see you. And a lot of women too!"
"Won't I look vulgar? Exhibitionist?"
"No, you will look delicious. Pay for it and let's find a silk blouse."
On the way to the cashier, I found a delicate faux-crocodile belt that I added to her cart. Ain't it good to spend other people's money?
We then found the ivory silk blouse I had in mind. When she tried it, I had the impression that her boobs were compressed under some sort of sports bra.
"What sort of bra are you wearing?"
She blushed and answered, "it is a sports bra."
"Na-na-ni-na-na!"
I told the salesgirl, "Hold that blouse. We are coming back."
We went to a lingerie shop, and we had a long conference with their salesgirl. Abi said that her boobs were big, and she was sort of ashamed of flaunting them. I said, "No, silly girl. That is the whole point. Let us try something light, flimsy, and feminine."
Blushing: "But they are heavy!"
"Do they sag?"
Blushing more: "No."
"Then our friend here will find something that will fit you, won't you."
"I'm sure we have something that will be perfect for your friend."
The two of them got lost in the shop and came back with two options, one chosen by Abi, the other by the salesgirl. I had to decide. Much to my surprise, Abi's selection was sexier.
"Abi, I'm ashamed of making you spend so much money. Sure, you can afford all of that?"
"Yes, I am."
She went to pay, and I asked the salesgirl on the side: "Do you have the panties that go with it?"
"Yes, just a sec."
I paid for the panties separately. We then went back to the other store where she tried the blouse with the new bra. Oh boy! What a difference! She had breasts between B and C cups that were now free from their torture, and the silk blouse highlighted their perfect shape.
"I feel naked!"
"You are not, but most certainly a lot of men will imagine it."
"You are not helping."
"Buy it and let's go home. I have a busy day tomorrow."
She left the mall happily with a new pair of jeans, a new belt, a new bra, and a new blouse, and quite a bit less money in the bank. I didn't dare talk about shoes.
When we got to the car park, I gave her the panties I had bought, as a gift, and she became really emotional.
"Thank you, Chris. I don't know why I will need a matching pair of panties for."
"You never know! Best to be safe than to be sorry!"
"Oh Chris, I'm not sure whether you are an angel or the devil. I'm not sure whether I will be brave enough to use all that, but thanks anyway."
"You will. All at the same time. On Friday. If not, I will get hold of your new belt and beat you with it."
She kissed me goodbye and this time it was a real kiss. She even embraced me despite all the bags she was holding.
On Friday I asked where she wanted to go, but she said she didn't know any places, so I took charge of the reservation. I chose a fancy Italian restaurant I knew, but not too fancy.
I took an Uber -- so that I wouldn't have to worry about my drinking -- and got to the restaurant first. I was enjoying a Cosmo when she came in. Wow. I had thought she would turn heads and turn she did. As I said, she has an elegant demeanor, and she was displaying all that elegance without a care in the world. The jeans encased a long and shapely pair of legs, and the blouse softly covered a spectacular pair of breasts. I don't appreciate huge tits. They remind me of cow's udders. To me a B-cup is the ideal, a C-cup, tops. That is precisely Abi's range.
She kissed me and then sat down. She was very comfortable with the kissing thing now.
"I felt sort of naked crossing the restaurant with everybody looking at me."
"Yes, girl! That is the desired effect. Show your beauty to the whole world. You are too beautiful to hide it."
She blushed adorably and gave me her trademark dismissive gesture. "Oh, Chris stop!"
The waiter offered her a drink and she didn't know what to ask.
"You are not used to drinking, are you?"
"I'm afraid not."
"So, you should keep to wine. I'll ask for a bottle of rosé that will keep us to the end of our meal, ok?
"If you say so."
I negotiated with the sommelier an adequate bottle.
"So, pretty girl. I don't want to say that you are not beautiful, on a day-to-day basis, as I see you at work. You are. You are always so elegant... But today, oh my, you are a head turner. If Prince Charming is dining here tonight, he will certainly kidnap you."
The dismissive gesture again. "Oh Chris, stop! You are always commenting on my beauty. I feel embarrassed."
"I was just saying that Abi sports version is as interesting, but sexier than Abi classic version, that's all. We chose the right clothes for you. Elegant, discreet but sexy."
"I feel a bit exhibitionist."
"Don't. You are perfect."
"If you say so... But those panties are the nearest thing to nothing ever invented."
"Good! Now, for the subject matter! We have been lunching together for a couple of months already and I know nothing about you. I know you are 26, have a degree in Architecture and have a very restricted albeit elegant wardrobe. Why don't you tell me what you have been doing in the last 26 years?"
She giggled and said, sort of sadly: "As if I had much to tell."
She then told me that she has no siblings -- I have an older sister and a younger brother -- that her father died in her early teens -- mine still alive but not kicking any more -- and that her mother, after her father died, became very strict -- mine had never the time and energy to be strict with three kids. As a teenager she was not much of a partygoer, because of her mother.
"Is she still strict? At 26 does your mother still control your life?"
"No, it was unfair of me to say that. Ever since I started at university, she set me free" making inverted commas in the air. "I believe I got afraid of socializing, and I just kept at home, looking at my navel."
"Don't you have a boyfriend? Never had one?"
"There was one boy at school I had a crush on. We went to the movies once and he caressed my boobs, just like that. I was so shocked that I left him there and went home immediately, to cry alone. Then a second one, in my first year at university. We were not even friends yet (`friends' with the inverted commas in the air, again) but he got my hand and put it over his... you know. I went home to cry again and sort of wrote men off my life."
"Men are complicated beasts, but don't write them off so quickly. They have their uses. What about girls?"
"What?"
"Have you never had a girlfriend?"
"Chriiiiiiiiis! What sort of question is this?" Her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that to me it is so natural that it didn't occur that I might be offending you. I'm very, very sorry."
"What do you mean? Natural?"
At this point I was saved by the arrival of our food. I just said: "Let's eat and then we can talk. Or better, let us not spoil your `dressed to kill evening' (It was my turn to use inverted commas in the air). We can discuss this some other time."
The conversation went to the dangers of eating spaghetti, and I told her a family anecdote:
"When my father was still working, he would come home for lunch sometimes. If spaghetti were on the menu, my mother would get one of those polyethylene bags used by the laundry to return clothes and make him use it as if it were a vest. Even so, he might drop sauce on his sleeve, to the joy of we kids."
"What a band of little monsters!" Then, pensive: "I miss not having siblings. I would love to have had an older sister to guide me, teach me." Then she looked at me and said, "I don't know whether it's the wine, or it's you, or the fact that my boobs are free, but I never had a conversation like that about me before. You are the kind of older sister I wanted."
I answered giggling: "If you are very, but very rich, I will let you adopt me. But only if you are a millionaire. Otherwise, I have no interest!"
She laughed "You don't take anything seriously."
We then had dessert, and the sommelier talked us into a small glass of Vin Santo with it.
As a usual customer, I knew the cashier and had left my credit card with him when I entered. When we decided to go home Abi wanted to go Dutch, but it was too late. "I invited you, remember?" I just had to input my password on the way out and off he went.
I was feeling well, I had not drunk too much by my standards. The same cannot be said about Abi. She was not used to drinking and was a little wobbly. I took her arm, and we walked across the room with great class, like two princesses. When we reached the lobby, we sat on a sofa and couldn't stop laughing.
"You came by taxi, I hope."
"No, I drove!"
"Shit! Gimme the keys."
She gave me the keys and we went to the parking lot in search of her car. I opened the passenger door, fastened her seat belt, got into the driver's seat, and asked: "Where to?"
Her explanation didn't make sense, so I looked into the car's GPS and found the link to Home. It was not far, and we got there without a glitch. She fell asleep as soon as we left the car park, and, upon arrival, I had to prop her up to the door of her house. Her mum was awake and opened the door anxious.
I said laughing "I have a delivery for you." And helped Abi to the kitchen, where I sat her. "She is not used to drinking. We shared a bottle of light rosé wine, and it got to her head. I apologize for being such a bad influence on your daughter."
Her mother made the same dismissive gesture that Abi uses and said, "Stop that. You must be Chris."
"Yes, I'm. Glad to meet you."
"It's I that am glad. You have achieved the impossible that is getting this girl out of the house."
Giggling I said: "And I apologize for returning her in such a bad state."
Her mother laughed and looked at Abi: "She is so beautiful. She really wanted to cause an impression on the whole world tonight."
"And she did. When she crossed the dining room everybody stopped to look at her. And now I can see well where those princess' genes came from."
Same gesture, same words: "Oh stop that."
"Here are her car keys. She should not drive when she goes out at night because of her low resistance to alcohol. I will call an Uber now and get out of your hair."
"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night with us? Isn't it dangerous to take an Uber at this hour?"
I opened my purse and got a pepper spray: "I'm prepared."
"Well, thanks anyway. Abigail needs friends her age."
"Count on me!"
The Uber came quickly, and I went home happy. I had obtained a lot of new information to develop my plan of seducing little Abi. Abigail?
When Abi and I went to lunch on Monday, she smiled and accused me of attempted murder. "I had a headache that lasted until Sunday."
"This is called a hangover girl. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were that weak for alcohol. Did you enjoy the evening, at least?"
"I enjoyed it a lot!"
"Did you feel empowered when you entered the restaurant wearing your new clothes? Did you feel that the new bra enhanced your boobs?"
She blushed and nodded.
"What about your new panties?"
She blushed even more. "They are so... hmm... flimsy. Both the bra and the panties. I felt naked. You told me I didn't look like an exhibitionist, but I felt like one! You traitor!"
"Nobody saw you naked, but everybody imagined you naked. Isn't that a delicious sensation? Displaying your femininity, your beauty."
The usual dismissive gesture followed by: "Of stop."
"We must do it again, but you cannot drive in, because you will not be able to drive back. Two lessons learned, slow with your drinks and use Uber."
"Did I bother you with my stories?"
"No, I loved to learn more about you. To open a bit that oyster called Abigail."
"Aaaahhh! Was I so drunk that I told my name to you?"
"No, your mum did."
"Now I will have to kill her and then kill you. Don't you dare ever use that name again!"
"Sorry, shall not be repeated ever. Unless you treat me badly. Did you enjoy our girls evening out."
"I loved it. We can repeat it whenever you want."
"Next time we can go to the movies and eat a burger afterwards. No clothing investment needed. You can wear your jeans and a T-shirt."
"I don't have any presentable T-shirts."
"Oh girl! There is a shop at the corner of the block. By gosh, I'll end bankrupting you! Eat up and we can go there."
Abi looked like a girl in the toy shop. She wanted to buy everything. I managed to restrain her to 3 T-shirts and had to convince her that one of them had to be an all-purpose white. She also bought one navy-blue nylon vest and one light caramel linen one. The latter was more expensive than all the other items put together but suited her perfectly.
"The linen vest is too much for the movies. Reserve it for a special occasion."
On Friday we went to see "The Substance", a horror movie. Abi's choice. She asked whether I wanted popcorn, and I said I didn't particularly care, but she bought a bucket to share, and I bought two small Toblerones.
The movie is about an aging celebrity that takes a drug that makes her younger, more beautiful, more perfect. But there's one rule: She had to share time. One week for the new her and one week for the real her. Seven days each. As you can imagine, things do not go exactly as planned.
She had the popcorn bucket between her legs, and I must confess it was distracting having to put my hands there, specially at the end, when I, "distracted by the film", would look for the last popcorns, thus caressing her thighs through the thin material of the bucket. I'm not sure whether she noticed or felt, but if she did, did not show any reaction.
At the scenes of greater suspense, she grabbed my arm and hid her head on my shoulder. It was nice to feel her firm boobs pressing against my arm. After a few times I was under the impression that her nipples were getting hard. I checked and yes, they were.
After the film, we went to a snack bar nearby for a burger. After we ordered, Abi asked:
"The other day, during dinner, you said that you considered that having a girlfriend was natural. What did you mean?"
"Exactly that. To me, loving another woman is as natural as loving a man."
"Are you a lesbian?"
"I'm not very fond of labels. But if you insist on placing me in a little box, you will have to place a third of me in a box with boys, a third in a box with girls and a third in a box with both."
"I don't believe it!"
"What's there not to be believed?"
"Well, I knew that les... love between women was possible, but I imagined that it was something between women very different from you."
"Does it shock you? You don't want to be my friend anymore?"
"I didn't say that. It just boggled my mind. There are so many questions I want to ask you. Will you mind if I ask them from time to time?"
"No, not at all. This is not taboo for me, so I will reply to any question you may have with the greatest honesty. But, if you think that the subject may cause some discomfort between us, perhaps you should read a little about it. There are some sites on the net that specialize in it. There are some videos as well."
"I knew they existed. I just was never curious to explore them. I thought they were all a bunch of women looking like men. And now you tell me that I'm wrong."
"I didn't tell you anything like that."
"But you told me you are a les... that you love women."
"I love sex, I love life, I love love, I love different experiences. That is all."
"You are so different from me!"
"I guess I am." Then raising my hands in self-defense: "That's why I told you that I wanted to crack the oyster called Abigail."
"Don't you dare!"
"Crack the oyster or call you by your full name?"
"The latter!"
"Why does it bother you so?"
"When I was at primary school the kids used to torment me with it. Abigail has a tail', Abigail ate a snail', `Abigail pees in a pail', you get the gist of it. And, as usual, the more you show you don't like it, the greater the torment. I decided to lop the "gail" off forever. My mum is the only person that still uses it and now I find out she is a traitor."
"I will not use it again, but if and when I do, will you believe that I'm using it as a proof of love? You are such an elegant woman, like a princess. Princesses are not called Suellen or Marybeth. Or Christina for that matter. They have special names like that of a friend of mine that hates when I use it."
She smiled and dismissed me with her hand. "Stop it!" But she was smiling.
The following week we worked very hard at different places, so we saw very little of each other. After another week we met at the construction site and naturally had lunch together.
Abi said: "I missed you."
"I missed you too. Why don't you come to my place on Friday? We can watch a movie, eat a pizza, drink some beers, and chat about everything, and nothing. We can just have a nice time. You can even spend the night if you promise you won't snore."
She whipped me with her napkin. "I don't snore. Only old ladies over 30 do."
"But be warned. I have only one bed. It's a double king but is the only one. It's so huge that if you want to talk to me you will have to send me a message."
Abi was a bit undecided and then asked with a smile: "Can I build a wall of cushions in the middle?"
"Yes, you can!"
"It's a date, then!"
On Friday she came in jeans, a white T-shirt, and the new linen vest. She was wearing a set of gold layered necklaces that enhanced her beautiful neck. Very alluring.
She sorta invaded my flat without asking permission, examining piece by piece, including my second bedroom that I use as my studio. I have all sorts of drawings scattered there or hanging on the walls, both professional stuff and personal stuff.
She examined the drawings on the wall which included a few nudes of girls with which I had had a serious or not so serious relationship in the past. These nudes were all very discreet, a breast here, a buttock there, a bit of pubic hair mostly covered by a sheet. My idea had never been to be pornographic, but rather artistic.
"Were they all your lovers?"
"Rule number 1, never talk about past lovers."
Blushing: "Sorry."
"OK, pizza!"
After 5 minutes of haggling about toppings, I placed the order.
"Do you want a beer?"
"I have never tried one, will I like it?"
"Well, there are 7 billion people on this planet. I'm guessing, just because I want to guess, that 3.5 billion have not reached drinking age. Of the 3.5 billion remaining, I'm guessing again that 2 to 2.5 billion do not drink for religion or health reasons. So, we have 1 to 1.5 billion beer drinkers. With so many drinkers, it cannot be all that bad, right? But then, you can always taste and decide."
I poured her a glass of an extra cold lager. She smelled it, then sipped.
"Sort of bitter but sort of refreshing."
I raised my glass and said: "To us!"
Abi raised her glass and started crying. "To my first ever friend!"
I hugged her and said: "To the oyster stuck to me, Abi... with all my love, gail."
She gave me a faux-stern look and said, "Only you can pull such a trick!"
"Now that I have succeeded in corrupting you, a warning is due: beer is refreshing but it does contain alcohol. Your quota is two bottles max. I don't want to return you to your mum like I did the other day."
We chatted about this and that, then the pizza arrived, and we ate it, with another beer, then we sat on the couch, preparing for the movie. Abi turned to me and said:
"I did something very mischievous."
"Well, considering that you were the shiest person I've ever met, anything that you may have done can be considered mischievous;"
"I found a site with lesbian stories."
"Oh! And what did think about it?"
"Some are really bad, but some are really exciting."
"Did they make you excited?"
She blushed and said: "That's not what I meant."
"But is what I meant. I want to know if the concept of two women making love became more acceptable to you?"
In a very low voice, she confided: "It's all so new to me. I never had any real sex with a man, except for the two awful experiences I told you the other day. Reading those stories, you understand that two women can do what seems to be exciting things to one another, but, at the same time, they do things that seem nasty. I'm not sure I understood the whole concept."
"Nasty how?"
"There are some horrible things. Bondage, anal, pee. All so anti-romantic."
"Hey wait! You went straight to Lesbian III, skipping Lesbian I and Lesbian II."
"I know. The stories I loved most were those in which two inexperienced girls discover each other" Then, blushing deeply: "If I tell you something, you promise you will not think less of me?"
I pulled her towards me, hugging her, and said: "Nothing you can say will make me think less of you. In fact, I'm glad that you are liberating your sexuality. I'm proud of you."
"I touched myself reading those stories."
"Were you wet down there?"
"Yes, very wet."
"Did you have an orgasm?"
"I'm not sure. But the sensations were amazing."
I hugged her closer and kissed her face. "I am so proud of you. A few weeks ago, you thought that making love to a woman was something demoniac, now you can at least grasp the beauty of it, even masturbate to it!"
"Thanks to you!"
She ended up lying on the couch with her head on my lap. She kept telling me about the stories she read, and my pussy started to get wet, so wet, in fact, that I thought I could smell it. If I could smell, Abi could as well, with her head on my lap. She then turned to her side, looking at me, with her nose almost buried in my jeans. For once in my life, I did not want either the gusset of my panties or my jeans to successfully work as barriers to my most intimate aroma.
As if on cue, she mentioned that the female aroma was mentioned as an important factor of attraction in many stories. I didn't say anything but started caressing her head, gently pushing her nose towards my pussy.
"Are you getting excited telling me all these stories?"
She thought for a while and said: "I am. Are you?"
"Yes."
"Is that your aroma I am feeling?"
"Probably yes. Does it bother you?"
"No. It just confirms that the female aroma is exciting."
I lowered my head and kissed her lips. Just a lip-to-lip peck. "You are so beautiful."
She enlaced my head with her free arm and pulled it to her. She kissed me lip-to-lip, but much longer this time. "Will you make love to me very gently? And stop if I ask?"
"You are asking me to detonate a bomb and stop the explosion if you don't like the noise."
She smiled: "I don't think I'll ever ask. Your vaginal aroma is irresistible."
I laughed and said: "Vaginal aroma? Say `the aroma of your pussy'!"
She blushed (she was so adorable when she blushed) and said: "The aroma of your pussy is killing me!"
"Much better!" I spread my legs so that she could get nearer to the source. "Does that make you want to touch yourself?"
"Uhum"
"And why don't you?"
"I can't. I won't dare. You have been making me conquer my shyness, but that would be a little too much."
I held her head with my two hands, kissed her lips and said: "Abigail, do you realize that in a few minutes I will be looking at your pussy, licking it? Or you don't want that?"
"I want that more than anything!"
"Then dare! Do what you want! Give yourself pleasure knowing that it will give me pleasure. Make that pussy wet for me to lick!"
"Oh Chris, just listening to you talking to me like that makes me so wet. I cannot go back home with these jeans tomorrow."
I kissed her lips and licked them. She opened her mouth slightly and my tongue invaded it. She moaned and pushed her tongue into my mouth, and we kept licking the insides of each other's mouths. I touched her breasts that, as I imagined, were incredibly firm. She moaned and opened fer eyes, looking directly at me. "You are making me so wet, Chris."
"Am I, Abigail?"
"Yes, monster!"
I removed her brand-new vest, then she helped me to pull her T-shirt. She was wearing a simple nude cotton bra, and her nipples were pushing against it, almost boring two holes. I caught one of them between my thumb and finger and, looking in her eyes, tweezed it. I mouthed "Abigail", and she smiled at me.
"Do you want to know my bedroom?"
"Are you going to abuse me there?"
Stern looking: "In every conceivable way."
Giggling: "Then I do. But I need to pee beforehand. I don't want to pee in your bed."
I showed her the bathroom and said: "The green towels are mine and the pink are yours."
When she came out, I went to pee as well. A couple of beers had had their effect.
I washed my nether region and, when I got out of the bathroom, I was greeted with the view of that wonderful woman wearing nothing but her panties.
I shed my clothes then I knelt on the bed and grabbed her foot. I licked her toes that were incredibly soft, without calluses. The same procedure was applied to the other foot. I then kissed and licked her legs. I raised and licked them behind her knees (I adore when that is done to me). I put her legs down, with the knees separated, and licked the inside of her thighs slowly. I could feel the delicious aroma of her pussy, but I avoided being drawn by it. Her panties were drenched. I pulled them down just a bit, to confirm that she was shaved, with a triangle of dark brown hair carefully trimmed. I went around her pussy and continued upwards. She complained:
"Of Chris, please, you are such a tease".
"Wait my love. I have been desiring to lick your whole body for a few weeks now."
Her nipples were dark brown, as is the case with most brunettes, and they were sticking out, begging to be sucked. I gently complied. I don't know how long I spent sucking on her tits, but I think it was half an eternity each.
I then went further upwards, kissing her mouth. She was so excited that she almost bit my lower maxilla off.
"Easy, lioness!"
I turned her around and licked her ears, receiving a loud moan for each one. Then the back of her neck, with the utmost care to avoid any hickeys. I then kissed her down along her spine, until her coccyx. I reached her ass and lightly bit each globe several times. I separated the globes, discovering a wonderful hairless pink hole. I kissed the two sides of her crack, getting very near to the hole. "It is a pity you find ass licking nasty. Your asshole is so pretty..."
"Are you sure you were not in the Gestapo? You are torturing me!"
"Do you want me to do nasty things to you?"
"Yes, please, yes!"
"Then beg for it!"
"Oh, you evil creature, lick my asshole, please, please!
Who can resist such as appeal?
I licked it for a couple of minutes until she relaxed enough for me to stick the tip of my tongue inside. She moaned and moaned. I pushed the pad of my index on it until it ceded, and I was able to push my finger up to the first joint.
I turned her around, keeping my finger up her ass. She automatically spread her legs and spread her glistening labia using both hands. She has a large-ish pink clit that was out of its hood. I licked her in concentric circles, until I reached her vagina. I pushed my tongue into it, with my finger still pushing her asshole. At that moment it occurred to me that Abi was technically still a virgin.
She was begging me to make her come so I left her vagina in favor of her clit. It didn't take too long for her to have a massive orgasm, at least 7 in the Richter scale. I kept licking her and she had another couple of aftershocks and then she curled up, pulling her ass from my finger.
I hugged her and she rested her head on my tits. "Thanks Chris. I don't know what to say but thank you for showing me the way. I've never felt anything like that."
I embraced her resting her head on my boobs. In a few minutes she fell asleep. I kept holding her and caressing her face. She purred like a cat.
When I began to feel cramped in my legs I tried to get her off my lap and she woke up.
"Where are you going?"
"I will take a shower and brush my teeth."
"Ok go then. I will do it after you."
"Why don't we do it together?"
She smiled and jumped from the bed. I have a very large shower box that can contain two sexually aroused females at the same time. I washed every square inch of her body, and she did the same to me. It was the first time she touched a woman intimately. She played with my vagina the pushed one finger in it. With her other hand she tried to push another finger up my ass, but she lacked the gentleness required.
"Easy, lioness. Soap me and soap your finger. Then do it very gently."
She succeeded and I kissed her. I then had an orgasm and kissed her again:
"This was the first orgasm you have given another woman. Congratulations." She smiled proudly.
After the shower we brushed our teeth, she put on a semi-transparent night gown and I put on a light cotton T shirt. Neither of us bothered with panties or bras.
We went to bed and chatted some more. She wanted to know all about my sexual experiences and was very curious about sex with both men and women. It was about 2:00AM when we decided to switch the lights off. I spooned her and she fell asleep in a couple of minutes and started snoring. Very lightly, but yes, snoring. I got my phone and recorded it. Oh, I was going to pull that leg tomorrow!
I woke up past 11:00 the following day. Abi wasn't in the room. The bathroom door was ajar, and I could hear noise. I went to look and found Abi wearing nothing but her nightgown, washing the crotch of her jeans.
"Oh good-morning, sweetie. I decided to wash this. I couldn't go home with them smelling as they were."
"Good decision. One day I return you to your mother drunk. The other, I return you with evident signs of debauchery. She will end up forbidding you from being my friend."
After using the bathroom, I prepared breakfast for the both of us. While eating I got hold of my phone and played with her snoring the previous night.
"What is that?"
I laughed and said: "That is a lady less than 30 years old that snores at night. Very lightly, I agree, but snores."
"You are an evil creature! Not only you record me at a moment of weakness, provoked by your own abuse, I must say, but you enjoy humiliating me, rubbing it in my face!"
"You were so pretty, so serene, so completely in my arms that I fought against sleep to watch you."
She came to me and kissed my lips.
"You taste like honey, honey, especially when you are eating toast with honey!"
She blushed and made her trademark gesture, telling me: "Stop it."
She then asked: "What are we doing today?"
"Have you brought a spare pair of jeans?"
"No!"
"So, we will leave yours drying and will go back to bed where I intend to ravish your body some more."
She had her back to me and said: "Ok!", just like that.
I laughed and enlaced her waist, pulling her to the bedroom. When we got there, she removed her nightgown and lay down on the bed, making a `come on' sign with her finger. Thinking of the shy girl I met a few weeks before, I thought "what kind of monster am I creating?"
I removed my T-shirt and jumped into bed. We kissed long delicious wet kisses. My thigh was brushing her pussy and vice-versa and we kept like this for an eternity. She stopped suddenly and held my face with both hands:
"Chris?"
"Yes, honey?"
"I want to make you come just the way you made me come last night, but I don't know if I know how to do it."
I kissed her and said: "There is no manual for that, nor is there a right or wrong evaluation Do what seems right, pay attention to my reactions, dare, and dare again. You will do it perfectly."
"... but..."
"What, love?"
"If... don't get me wrong, but if I..."
"Say it, woman!"
"Don't get me wrong but if I don't like your taste?"
I got her hand, pulled two fingers straight, led them to my pussy and masturbated me with them. Then I pushed them into my vagina which was oozing my love honey. I pulled her fingers, led them to her mouth and said: "Taste!"
She looked at me with her eyes opened widely, smelled her fingers, licked them with the tip of her tongue then put her fingers in her mouth. "Hmmpfpf!"
"So?"
She kissed me, with my own taste in her mouth and said: "You taste delicious my love. I think I will drink from the source now, but... "
"?"
"Can I taste your... back another day?"
"My delicious, innocent, naïve love. You can do whatever you want, the way you want, when you want. There are no rules to this game.
She smiled, kissed my mouth, and started to kiss down the long way between my upper lips and my other lips further down. She spent a long time in each of my breasts, then brushed her nipples against mine, commenting that my areolas are pink while hers are dark brown but that her nipples are longer than mine. She then went on licking my navel (which always tickle me) and finally reached my drenched pussy. I spread my legs, and she looked with adoration at my very wet pussy.
"Are you that wet because of me?"
"Yes, my love!"
She then smelled my pussy, inhaling my aroma as if she wanted to keep it inside her forever. When she licked me the first time, a long lick starting in my perineum up to my clit, I shuddered.
"Did I do anything wrong?"
"No, my love, you did something very, very right.
She breathed in relief and started to lick me ever smaller in concentric passes until her tongue invaded me.
"Is the taste bearable?"
"I think that's what ambrosia was made of."
She licked some more then I taught her to push two fingers inside and gently scratch my g-spot.
"That's it, don't stop. Please suck my clit into that delicious mouth of yours."
I felt a massive orgasm building inside me. I cried, large tears flowing from my eyes.
"Don't stop, don't you dare stopping."
She used her pinky to caress my perineum up to my asshole. That was when the dam burst, and I had a fantastic orgasm. I am not a squirter, but at that moment I produced an abnormal amount of cum. I was producing cum faster than Abi could lick it. When it subsided, I pulled her up and her face was smeared with my cum. I gave her small kisses, small licks saying all the time "Thank you, Abigail my love. That was fantastic."
"I am so happy that you enjoyed it. Do you know that when I felt you cumming, I came as well?"
We kissed for a long time, lightly caressing each other's bodies.
"I hope your jeans take a long time to dry!"
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