Good Vibrations Magazine

The sharp, animal fear at the first touch. Fear of what? We’d already played this out in dreams, after all. Sarah and I were hardly strangers. There was a time when I thought the fear would leave me when I could at last make love with a woman. Puzzled to find it actually grew stronger when the flesh I reached for mirrored mine. That first night with Sarah it burned in the pit of my belly. The thrill of it tinged the edges of that other burning, my cunt radiating it.

Such a primal thing. Our new vulnerability with each new lover: like a cat rolling on its back, having to expose itself to unknown peril to get its pleasure. The fear actually part of the delight. Humans obscure it, if we can, with drink, or nerve-edged laughter. Sarah and I indulged in both that night. We giggled for a long time. But never evaded each others’ eyes.

And learned together, gradually, to read and trust the desire there, at last tumbling into a kiss that felt heavy with the weight of not knowing what could possibly come of all this. But my hands were full of hunger the minute I touched her naked skin. The fear burned off by the heat, like alcohol wisping into nothingness over a flame. When our lips finally parted, a long time later, strands of our mingled saliva still bridging the distance between us, I knew I wanted to be full of her fingers, my face in her spread-wide-to-me cunt, cheeks slick with honey and brine. Whatever was missing from her lover’s bed, there was plenty of it here. The woman was bringing me enough sexual energy for three dykes, a warm, writhing, wide-eyed Midsummer gift from Aphrodite.

It had been way too long since I’d had my hands on anyone, much less anything as lovely as she was, as hot and audacious and young. Powerful, to release this pent-up hunger. She wasn’t used to such energy, I could see, but she wanted it. Wanted someone who would give her her fast-beating heart’s desire. In that instant it became possible to fall in love with her. Oh, it had been too long, all right, since I’d had a woman tight in my arms. And my cunt now so wet, ready for anything. I dove into her like she was the warm, bottomless ocean.

I did fall in love with her that night, though it was weeks before I knew it. How I wanted someone to wake from their dreams and reach for me. I sucked the star-crossed romance in like a sponge. I didn’t want to know what the future held. I wanted to freeze time there, that night, like she could be my last meal. I knew we had no business together: it only made me hotter.

I roamed her skin, hunting with tongue and teeth and hands for the places that made her gasp, shudder, tense. So responsive, my Sarah, so hungry herself. I began gently, but there was no need for that: she understood sharp teeth and strong arms. She was going to use them on me as soon as I let her up. She curled her hands in my hair when I at last arrived between her legs.

Not purely worshipful, admittedly: really I was dizzy with the power of it, prideful already, wanting to best her other lover, to say no to their timid, sexless coupling. There was nothing to fear in our coupling except the future, and I was ready to best that, too.

Her moan when my tongue parted her lips told me everything I needed to hear; I lapped up, then down, slowly, not quite touching clit or asshole, not entering the sanctum of her cunt. Her whole body was with me: hands fisted tight in my hair, heart pounding, pelvis bringing itself to my mouth rhythmically, clit straining to feel me. She finally bucked hard and my tongue slipped up. I sucked her clit in and circled my tongue around it, slow tease, then faster as I felt her tense all her attention into it. I wanted her orgasm like I wanted my own.

Shouts changed to sighs. She moved with me — I was back to the sweet, slow licking, so much more nectar now to lap up. She took my hand and pressed it, hard, against her vulva, pushing so my hand slid up the slick path to her clit, over the still-hard trigger, and she shuddered with aftershock. And finally pulled me up to kiss the juice off my lips, cheeks, chin. Our bodies, so different, were still naked mirrors of each other, and moved together, each part and counterpart rubbing in a whole-body kiss.

My knee came up to part her thighs again. I wanted to keep her helpless, dissolved in sighs and shouts. The tease, the little tease, weeks of it. But she was recovering from her orgasm, and she had other ideas. She pushed me onto my back. “Now you,” she whispered, and pinned my arms above my head, and lay her whole sweet weight on top of me, and kissed me dizzy.

She made love like she danced. Wild. Insisting that she be paid attention to. The same sassy, sexy eye contact. She held my eyes even as she filled my lonely cunt with her long, long fingers, fucked all the sadness and sorrow and isolation out of me. Fucked herself right into my heart.

I came hard, ecstatic with it. Summer finally here. Blood thawed, in fact hot, in my veins. And she’d have kept it up all night if I hadn’t stopped her, pulled her dripping, scented fingers out of my pussy which hummed and throbbed as if electric current, not blood at all, flowed through my veins, begging “No… no more… I can’t…”

So she brought the fingers up for me to taste; she kissed me sweetly; she brought the sheet up to cover us, cocoon us against the night breeze. That was the first night Sarah and I slept curled together, eyes closed tight against the morning.

A longer version of “Sarah” appeared as “The Happy Baby” in Virgin Territory, edited by Shar Rednour.