Hittin' the kitten & sapphic muff diving
My defacto stepdad, Harvey, had a workshop that was, I believed, unfairly off-limits.
It was originally my dad's behind but is now attached to the garage. As a kid, I was always welcome there.
Of course, later, I drifted off: in high school, then by college, my parents were divorced. And hey presto; way too quickly, my mum had a live-in boyfriend, and I had an unwelcome roommate. I had no option in sharing space.
Sandy, my 'stepsister', had a gross nose stud, and her belly button had one of those dangly piercings. She also had two small tattoos I'd seen. She had that general grunge look.
Her dark hair, layered makeup and penchant for black clothing gave her the overt college slut look.
Still, with no maternal influence for a long time, she had no positive feminine role models.
If you want the truth, though, and I'll be honest, I was jealous of her hot body.
The bitch had the frickin breast set I wanted. The only way I'd get firm-rounded natural cupcakes like Sandy would be an expensive boob job one day.
What was really pissing me off since Sandy had ensconced herself with a frickin demarcation line down the middle of MY room; was that my intimate girly privacy space and time had disappeared.
You know, that nice relaxed alone time in your room as a senior college girl.
The occasion to leisurely check out your own inadequate breasts in your mirror and see how far your nipples actually stick out when excited side on.
And how your body looks when you push your breasts together and sigh at your lack of cleavage. And the naughty little striptease you practice for an imaginary boyfriend as you ease your high-cut favourite red panties down and check out your cute arse cheeks in the mirror.
You know you're a booty girl. It's your feature. Thank god you have one. You're not so sure as you face the mirror front on and tease your panties down, revealing your honeyed pubic fuzz…sort of trimmed…sort of wild…you really aren't sure what to do with it. There is still a lot of hair between your legs, especially over your flappy lips.
You are happiest when your dangly bits can't be seen.
You have more than your fair share of loose skin down there, and you are unsure how guys will react.
You don't look at them often, except occasionally …wishing they were smaller.
Yet when you shut your eyes, and your fingers glide over them in a film of silky wetness, and you rub through and over them…they are squishy mussy fleshy heaven.
The ambivalence of our privates…so much pleasure…yet so much vulnerability and worry about sharing them.
Yet all we want is someone to share them with.
Anyway, a girl needs girl time, and I was forced to share my bedroom with my stepsister. I needed to get myself off and wasn't one for doing it quickly.
I liked the mirror.
I liked getting up close to it.
I'd let my fingers do their stuff unseen, let them get sticky and wet, sliding between my lips and pushing up into my greedy little clit.
I liked to finish myself off by bending right over my makeup table, spreading my legs, and fingering myself between my thighs from behind.
I imagined it was a guy fingering me from behind, and then he would fuck me. And I would look in the mirror, watching my face contort with pleasure as my climax built to its detonating explosion of pure personal happiness. I liked to watch my eyes widen, and my pupils dilate with absolute assured contentment. I loved the feel and the visual wonder of watching my orgasm sweep through and deep into me.
Can't get off naked in front of the mirror with a stepsister coming in unannounced to YOUR room.
I wondered what Sandy did to release her tension, and then I realised she probably just sucked, fucked or blew a few guys.
It's what I thought and what we think counts as we judge another, especially one in your special space.
The bathroom wasn't an option. It was busier than a 24/7 gas station —what was Sandy doing there?
She spent plenty of time in the shower; maybe she was a showerhead on the clit girl. I'd tried it, but not enough force for my liking.
As for self-pleasuring on the toilet seat, it's basically not my scene.
I needed to play with myself carousingly but had no place alone in my home.
Then, as Mum and Harvey started going to the pub, darts, and quiz nights, I decided to sneak out and use the shed for some good girly finger action.
Boy, did I need it.
I hadn't enjoyed the quiet rubs under the sheets because Sandy was in a bed opposite me. You never know what they can hear, the telltale crispy friction rub of sheets, a frickin bed spring, the squelch of your juices when you get close to cumming or the soft sigh you just can't suppress.
I had never felt bad about a slowly built-up, lingering, leisurely, lustfully generated orgasm…a girl needs time… a girl appreciates the finer points of working herself up… as we bring every niche of our crumpled indented spreading flesh into play.
I loved to tease my perineum and the unexpected naughty wet slide across my arsehole… which I always pretended that hadn't happened…lord, I'd never finger my own butthole deliberately…but a delicious accident…yeah.
I was home alone…god, I wanted to undress in my former private bedroom, be fully naked and press myself into the mirror and frig myself for a full half hour…but I was scared of being caught and went to the tool shed.
To Harvey's credit, the workshop was a bit more organised and spacey than my dad's old setup.
I was drawn to a beautiful rustic, recycled, Oregon timber framed, oval mirror, half-striped back, but leaning against the wall.
A mirror…well, me and mirrors.
Still, there was nowhere to really put it up. Sandy could come home any time the bitch, and I needed a laid-back, slow, gentle build-up before I really hit my clit hard. I needed to start.
Nothing for it. My jeans and panties were down, my legs spread, and I took my lower private self all in — in the gorgeous old mirror. I was randy as hell and got excited for the first time by my floppy, crumpled pinkness exposed by my spread. I got some spit on my fingers, and hey, it felt good.
It felt delicious as I hit my kitten!
And I had that moment of prominent lip acceptance. I enjoyed watching my fingers work my lips around their edges and tug their length slightly out.
It looked fantastic and really got me wet. I prodded around my clit and lifted my hood.
And I was surprised I could see it clearly in the mirror for a small pleasure ridge. My clit, my treasure bead and I gave it the circular finger love it liked best.
Around its edges, I applied direct pressure more frequently, and boy, did my petite friend respond.
I really started to let go and moan in self-rapture as I enjoyed the sweetness of my girly delights uninterrupted.
"Mmm! Ooh! Mmm! Ooh!"
I was confident I could ramp it up and get noisy.
Drenched in fem-jus, my fingers were literally wave-surfing my slit. My digits were paddling in my pink canoe! In the moment, I was lost in a self-guided pussy tour! Dating my own kitten!
Buffin' the muffin!
"Aah! Aah! Aahh!"
The juicy squelch was happening, and I passed the state of feeling good. I was orgasm fast-tracked. I was finger fucking myself speedily, and the fingers of my other hand were treating my clit like the princess my special bud is.
I was in an orgasm-free fall, and it was so intense; I had missed this long build-up for so long. Now, I shut my eyes to take it all in. I was greedy to hold it all. Nothing was going to escape my body as the splattering shards of pleasure, at first localised in my clit, spread through me, entirely through me…as I kept pushing my fingers deeper, I really got sopping, and my clit was so sensitive. I nearly couldn't touch it…but I knew if I did, it would reward me…and was I rewarded. It was a stunning, prolonged orgasm. Held and held. I think it was made better by my eyes being closed at the last minute.
I closed my legs but with my hands still resting over my coochie. It maintained the connection. The after buzz of delight. A feeling of self-completeness. Made denser by keeping my eyes shut.
So the goddamn clapping surprised me, and I thought, what the fuck?
I looked up, entirely shocked.
There was Sandy.
And she was hot.
I mean really hot.
Well, she was naked, with her stunning copious breasts and shaved pussy.
Well, I had wondered about that.
"Great show, Katrina. Don't worry; I won't tell…. It seems we think alike. Yeah, this is my private spot, too," she said reassuringly.
"Jeez, Sandy…how long were you there?"
Fuck, my most private self-entertainment had been a show.
"Long enough, sweetie…Stop the talking…before the oldies get home…stick your tongue here."
She had her cute camel toe spread, and I liked the look of the arched curvy ridges of her private lips and her exposed clit…yeah, it was bigger than mine…the lucky bitch.
Of course, I went the passionate, hungry lick, suck and finger fondle. Never having done it before, I wanted to experience everything in a rush. I was fast, intense and firm.
It was not how I would be on myself, but Sandy liked it.
It was empowering to be underneath another woman who was standing. At the same time, my tongue swept up and over and into her pussy, while she murmured and softly sighed.
"Mmm! Aah! Mmm."
It was a girly side to Sandy I hadn't expected. She was putty under my touch. I was powering up into her warm, wet cavern of self.
I gnashed her gash. Turned her flaps into saliva slurpees! Lickerty-split her vulva. Slushed her muff until it resembled peaches and cream.
Her hands were cradling my head, insisting that my tongue push deeper into her tacky happy slit.
Wow, she had a soaking chow-box. I lapped her clam, dined in her Y, and Facetimed her downstairs!
She was grinding her body forward in total fem-pleasure to maximise the attention I was now focussing on her clit. I could tell she was ready to cum, and more than anything in the world, I wanted her to cum. I wanted to be the one who delivered her complete, sensational bodily pleasure.
I had had the pleasure sweep.
I was still basking in it.
Sandy needed it, too.
She was so aroused, and I knew I was the cause of her arousal. She had watched me get off and was probably thinking of me as I got her off. That doubled the excitement.
I noshed her slash and smooched her coochie. I twirled my tongue from her pucker crack to her pearl.
"Ooh!" she cooed — so petite — as her cunny leaked a squirting fem-spritz.
Sandy came in a shuddering rush.
"Ugh! Ughh! Uugghh!"
It was intense, and she let me know as she uttered a dense, full-bodied moan of consuming delight.
I was surprised as she bent down and kissed me deeply and passionately. She mirrored my deep desires more closely than I realised in my jealous surface assessment of her.
We craved continued girly substance, and I sensed we would have it together.
"Mmm… no more bitching okay…and I think we can really share a room now… let's get up there… now… "said Sandy.
We were so compelled by our newfound sisterly lust.
We grabbed our clothes. We headed stark naked across to the back door through the house and up the stairs, where Sandy intuitively positioned me in front of the mirror.
And we explored with reflected duplication our combined physical and inner girly needs.
We investigated each other's bodies in deliciously filthy and increasingly smutty ways —until we heard our parents arrive home.