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Women Only
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Bi-Sexual Female / 47
She Left Me Flowers
Pride Month has me thinking about the one woman I dated for any amount of time. I'll call her Min, because for a little while I enjoyed her being Mine.
I noticed her right away because of her personality, funny as hell with a feminine twist. Her cheekbones were so kissable with those light brown freckles. I eventually got to tell her so as we lounged in the sheets. She looked great both with and without the butterfly lashes hotties wear sometimes. We were in the same friend circle, but drifted apart without malice, staying in touch on ye olde social media.
Back in the day, we used to do a Moms Night Out. She was always the most fun, so during my non-monogamous year, I asked her out for a drink. She said yes, arrived in a sundress, and the rest is sweet, silky history.
I asked if I could touch her hair and she let it fall in a veil across my hand, rubbing noses with me and caressing my blushing cheek. Tequila always made me a little rosy. She drank whiskey. That's what I drink now, when I'm missing her. It was short and sweet, but my story isn't over yet.
She left me flowers on my doorstep. A bright grocery store bouquet, and she texted again in the morning. I regret it now, because our fling was only a year, but in the beginning I would say no to last minute invitations. I wanted her to think ahead if she wanted my time. She did eventually, but her sensuous I-Want-You texts in the beginning were like a breath of fresh ocean air.
Min was the most fun in bed that I've ever had. I married young and have always had a spicy sex life with my husband. But, until I met Min, I had no idea what it could be like to fuck while feeling emotionally open and delighted in the skin on skin on mouth slipping from orgasm to orgasm, redefining sexual intimacy until each cum session ended in me laughing with joy and snuggling each other to sleep.
One night, I arrived nice and early. Sometimes I came over just to sleep in her arms for a night before she went to work, leaving me a love note on the kitchen table. She made me dinner as we danced in the kitchen, taking shots once in a while, or playing I-Spy with her three gorgeous long-haired cats. They were shy and liked to skirt along the floor to ceiling bookcases.
That night we stretched out on her king-sized bed, clad in smooth white sheets, comforter, and pillows. Her bed was put together as well Min. Sensuous, open, ready. Soft.
Min rustled in her bedside drawer and let me choose from a handful of colorful toys she offered like candy. My first clit-sucking toy! My nipples get hard even now, thinking of how new and amazing it felt. It was like losing my virginity again, only this time I didn't want it to end.
We nestled together, arms, hips, thighs, feet touching. It's like a tickle you never want to stop, rocketing me to that sensitive place it takes two weeks of romance and three nights of fucking to get to with my husband. I moaned as the little mouth of the rose toy clung to my clit, the vacuum suction so intense I'd have to write a poem to describe it. Let's just say that there were fireworks, joy, and belly laughs that reminded me that we were both sex goddesses.
I gave Min up in the worst way, ghosting her because my husband felt insecure. I had to end it in a way I knew would burn my bridge. Talking was one of our sexy super powers, and I just went mute on date night.
Damn my eyes, I should never have let her go. I still have what's left of the flowers, magenta and airy, some kind of baby's breath bloom, maybe. I still have all my sensual memories of her when I play with my own rose toy. Pride Month pulls at me, though, making me remember the one year I knew myself better than ever, because of Min.
I noticed her right away because of her personality, funny as hell with a feminine twist. Her cheekbones were so kissable with those light brown freckles. I eventually got to tell her so as we lounged in the sheets. She looked great both with and without the butterfly lashes hotties wear sometimes. We were in the same friend circle, but drifted apart without malice, staying in touch on ye olde social media.
Back in the day, we used to do a Moms Night Out. She was always the most fun, so during my non-monogamous year, I asked her out for a drink. She said yes, arrived in a sundress, and the rest is sweet, silky history.
I asked if I could touch her hair and she let it fall in a veil across my hand, rubbing noses with me and caressing my blushing cheek. Tequila always made me a little rosy. She drank whiskey. That's what I drink now, when I'm missing her. It was short and sweet, but my story isn't over yet.
She left me flowers on my doorstep. A bright grocery store bouquet, and she texted again in the morning. I regret it now, because our fling was only a year, but in the beginning I would say no to last minute invitations. I wanted her to think ahead if she wanted my time. She did eventually, but her sensuous I-Want-You texts in the beginning were like a breath of fresh ocean air.
Min was the most fun in bed that I've ever had. I married young and have always had a spicy sex life with my husband. But, until I met Min, I had no idea what it could be like to fuck while feeling emotionally open and delighted in the skin on skin on mouth slipping from orgasm to orgasm, redefining sexual intimacy until each cum session ended in me laughing with joy and snuggling each other to sleep.
One night, I arrived nice and early. Sometimes I came over just to sleep in her arms for a night before she went to work, leaving me a love note on the kitchen table. She made me dinner as we danced in the kitchen, taking shots once in a while, or playing I-Spy with her three gorgeous long-haired cats. They were shy and liked to skirt along the floor to ceiling bookcases.
That night we stretched out on her king-sized bed, clad in smooth white sheets, comforter, and pillows. Her bed was put together as well Min. Sensuous, open, ready. Soft.
Min rustled in her bedside drawer and let me choose from a handful of colorful toys she offered like candy. My first clit-sucking toy! My nipples get hard even now, thinking of how new and amazing it felt. It was like losing my virginity again, only this time I didn't want it to end.
We nestled together, arms, hips, thighs, feet touching. It's like a tickle you never want to stop, rocketing me to that sensitive place it takes two weeks of romance and three nights of fucking to get to with my husband. I moaned as the little mouth of the rose toy clung to my clit, the vacuum suction so intense I'd have to write a poem to describe it. Let's just say that there were fireworks, joy, and belly laughs that reminded me that we were both sex goddesses.
I gave Min up in the worst way, ghosting her because my husband felt insecure. I had to end it in a way I knew would burn my bridge. Talking was one of our sexy super powers, and I just went mute on date night.
Damn my eyes, I should never have let her go. I still have what's left of the flowers, magenta and airy, some kind of baby's breath bloom, maybe. I still have all my sensual memories of her when I play with my own rose toy. Pride Month pulls at me, though, making me remember the one year I knew myself better than ever, because of Min.
