“Don’t you like it? I thought it was just right for you. Isn’t it?”
“I think it wonderful. Really, it’s perfect. It’s just that, well, sweetness, I don’t have the flogger anymore. I traded it in… for your bell.”
Ophelia looked at Henri. Henri did the same back at Ophelia. The air grew clear, fragile, like it was going to shatter with tension.
Then Henri bellow with delight, a great explosion of happiness, and dropped down off her chair to grab the little blond sprite. Then Ophelia shrieked with joy, and rose to wrap arms around the big black Buddha while they both laughed and cried, cried and laughed, until they both fell over into a black and white, black and white tumble on the rug.
'My sweetness,' Henri said, between long, soulful and quick, innocent kisses, her big arms wrapped around thin, little Ophelia.
'No,' Ophelia, dreamy grin on her face, 'you're the sweet one. Sweet as anything. As sugar,' a kiss on Henri's nose, 'as honey,' another kiss, same nose, 'as frosting on a big piece of cake,' another kiss — much longer, much deeper, lips to lips. After a long, slow time, it broke, and Ophelia finished her list with 'as love.'
Henri smiled, lifting down to lift the thin girl's t-shirt, exposing a buttery expanse of soft tummy. 'Au contraire,' she said, lifting her head just long enough to playfully wag a finger, 'you are the one who is sugar, honey, and frosting. All the good and precious stuff in this world is right here.' Back to her rise of belly, a kiss to the silken skin.
'Oh,' Ophelia said, voice tender and slightly lost.
'— and right here, of course.' Ophelia had started the day out in t-shirt, still on, though pushed up, and comfy, slightly threadbare sweat pants. But not for long. Dark fingers slipped between skin and pants, Henri gently tugged, persistently tugged, and then, when they were down to her ankles, off — tossed into a far corner without a further thought.
'Oh,' Ophelia, said voice even more tender, even more lost.
Hands on her thighs, with very little insistence, Henry parted her legs. Eyes wide with glee, and more than a little wonder, she stopped to look, to simply look. After a time she said, repeating but meaning more: 'All that's precious and good in the world. Well, my world, at any rate. I could just eat you up.'
Another kiss, different set of lips: Henri to Ophelia. Fingers gently stroking down, touching the smaller girl's outer lips, then holding them, pulling just enough to part. Again, a look, a watch, an admiration, before that kiss. After the kiss, lips to clit this time, Henri to Ophelia, another kiss. But then it was more than a kiss, or just a different form of a kiss: lips and tongue, stroking, flicking, washing, following the lifts and tucks, the silken contours of her. In applause, Ophelia cooed and purred, a great blond kitty, and spread her legs a bit more.
No time. Nothing in the world but Henry, kneeling down, lips and tongue, then fingers, playing her lover, playing with her lover. It really wasn't a goal, per se, but it happened anyway: Ophelia's breathing quickened, her thighs tensed, her fingers gripped the rug in itch-filled fists, and then it came out, hissed and screamed out of her.
'Sweet, deliciously sweet — ' cooed Henri, running her fingers up and down Ophelia's thighs, tactile applause. 'I could just eat you up, nibble on you all day.'
'Whew!' the thin blond girl said, springing up — elbows on the rug, propping herself up. A thin strand of gold hair lazily dripped down her forehead. 'I do exclaim, I do: whew!'
Henri didn't say anything, she just traced slow, lazy circles on Ophelia's tummy and smiled.
'— and as for who's the tasty one!' Quick, giggling like a maniac, hands suddenly on Henri's wide shoulders, pushing, toppling the bigger woman back. Tangled, this time it was Ophelia on top, Ophelia's hands that were tugging at clothing, revealing the other woman's mountainous, black breasts and even darker, already hardening nipples.
'Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no
…' Henri said, eyes wide, mouth open. 'You're not going to — '
'I most certainly am,' Ophelia said, her words slurred, her teeth cleanly locked around Henri's nipple. 'Asfolutery, ah am.'
'Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,' Henri said, her deep voice breaking, straining as the spill of denial flowed from her mouth.
'Weady?' the other girl said, delight and mischief winking in her pale blue eyes.
'Oh, no — ' Henri started, but didn't finish. The next words — probably 'Oh, no' — were cut off, washed away by a sharp, long hiss as Ophelia's teeth carefully, methodically, bit down onto her swollen nipple.
The squeeze was consummate, the control expert. Pearly white's like exact tools, perfect clamps. Slowly, glacially, Ophelia bit down just a bit more, anywhere else on the body unnoticeable-on Henri's fat, erect nipple, it was like a steel trap teasing at one of her most sensitive points.
Again, a bit more force, again the low hiss that steam whistled out from between Henri's lips, but this time there was something more: a flick, a touch of warm wetness as Ophelia's tongue touched, then grazed, then stroked at the very tip.
The teeth went on, squeezing down harder and harder, the tongue went on, licking, adding something subtle and sweet to the ferocious bite. Sometimes, Henri would come this way, from just Ophelia's precise nibbles to her breasts and nipples. But sometimes she needed, or just wanted something more.
Still leaning back, she freed one arm, turning herself so she wouldn't loose balance, and grabbed hold of Ophelia's left arm. At the touch, the other woman allowed herself to be led: hand grazing the front of Henri's jeans. 'Rub me… please,' Henri managed to hiss out, the fear of having to move with Ophelia's teeth still locked around her nipple almost pushing her other the edge.
Ophelia smiled, never once releasing her grip, and with that guided arm, she undid Henri's belt, unbuttoned her fly, and snaked her hand down between her thighs.
Warm, at first, then hot. Humid, at first, then steamy — then wet as Ophelia's fingers deftly slipped between her lover's great thighs. There, down among slippery lips, she found what she was looking for, what both of them were hoping for: a hard kernel, a very firm clit.
Lips and teeth tight and relentless, tongue magically adding to it all, Ophelia rubbed Henri's clit, building it all up, pushing her lover up higher and higher — until there was nowhere else to go.
Henri's version was a bellow, a roar, a scream that tensed and released through the whole body. Even one of her legs was sucked into the wonderful release: it kicked and jerked in perfect tune with her heavy breaths, beat of moans and sighs.
She collapsed, falling back onto the rug, arms out at her sides, legs recklessly apart. On top, snuggling up to her breasts, curling around her thighs, Ophelia curled and folded herself so that as much of her was touching the other woman, and that way they both faded, drifted off, and slept, dreaming of sugar, sweetness, heat, steam, and, of course, each other.
Sometime later, one woke — with the other following right after. Grinning just just as they stumbled they got drinks, went to the bathroom, but mostly just stood in the middle of their tiny apartment and kissed: lips to lips, back to white, big to small, love and love.
Few minutes later, after some relief and sips of water, they decided to take a little walk, to enjoy something amazing and absolutely free: the sights and sounds of their nice neighborhood, their lovely city.
When they opened the door they saw the box. Wrapped in pretty, and somewhat familiar, paper: gold stars, pale blue. Very pretty.
Puzzling, they took it inside, tore and peeled back the paper, opened the box. Inside were two simple, but very special, things: a lovely leather flogger, and a tiny silver ring — just perfect for a nipple.
There was also a card. Merry Christmas, my lovely friends. I hope you liked what I gave you. Never forget that presents are just things, and love, and who you love, is the most special gift anyone can give and get in this world. The card was from the Community Exchange, and the signature said Love, Mary.
Big Red and the G.I.L.F. Meet Santa by Tessie L’Amour
