Finally

My friend, Jenn, had turned 30 just two days after Valentine’s Day, and it seemed like all of her guests were using her birthday party to celebrate their romantic relationships just as much as they were there to celebrate her. Personally, I’d split up with my girlfriend at Christmas and was feeling jaded by love. That didn’t stop me from hoping for a hook-up, though. It had been more months than I wanted to count since I’d last had sex, and I was shamelessly hoping I’d meet someone at the party. When the caterer dropped out at the last minute and Jenn begged me to take on the role, I’d agreed. It was a good decision. Seeing everyone paired up was making me feel sad and frustrated, and I was thankful the kitchen provided me with a safe refuge.

Jenn rushed into the kitchen, giddy with too much champagne and attention. “More sandwiches!” she called to me. “We need more sandwiches!”

I picked up a tray and pasted on a smile. “Just coming!”

The party was in full swing, and I carefully wove my way to the food table, tray held high and balanced on one hand just like the professionals do. I’d nearly made it when a vigorous dancer knocked into me, sending me and the tray spinning on a downward path. Before either of us hit the floor, however, someone grabbed me by my elbow and snatched the edge of the tray, righting it – and me – just at the last moment. “Woah, that was close,” she laughed, popping the tray on the table and then turning to face me.

Our eyes locked for a moment. No recognition. That was unusual: this town had a small scene; I thought I knew all the lesbians around here.

“I’m Kitty,” she explained. “I met Jenn last week. I’ve joined her basketball team. She invited me here.”

Ah, so she was one of the basketball crew. I knew Jenn and her partner played, but I’d never been to watch a game.

Kitty gestured to the table, “Do you need any more help?”

“Yes, that would be great. I’m Anna, by the way. I’m a friend of Jenn’s too – not a professional caterer.”

Kitty laughed, “I gathered as much.”

We spent the rest of the evening chatting, in between collecting up used plates and refreshing the food table. I felt easy and relaxed with Kitty. I loved her willingness to help out. She was cute too. She told me she was single, and I told her I was single and I was sure there was a knowing look exchanged between us.

Just before midnight she beckoned me to follow her to the front door. “I have to go,” she told me. “Do you want to swap numbers? I’m away for the next two weeks, but maybe we could get a coffee or something when I get back?”

I tried to sound casual yet keen. “Sounds good to me.”

~~~

True to her word, she invited me for coffee a couple of weeks later. The following weekend, I invited her to come to the beach with me for a walk. The week after that, we had lunch in a fancy cafe. Then another coffee date. Each time we met, we had fun, but I couldn’t read the vibes.

I thought I’d been flirting: on the beach, I told her my hands were cold and offered her one to hold. She touched it briefly to confirm my hand did indeed feel chilly, but she didn’t volunteer to warm it up in her own. At lunch, I’d asked if I could tempt her with a taste of my dessert and held up a spoonful for her. She took her own spoon and dug into the pie on my plate. “Delicious,” she said. And then, “We should come again to sample some more from the menu. How about the same time next week?” 

We each took turns at making invitations. But always daytime dates. And always somewhere public. I knew something had to change, or we’d be friendzoned forever. 

When she finally suggested we spend an evening together at her flat, I thought surely this was it. I brought a nice bottle of wine and tucked my toothbrush into my jacket pocket just in case. We drank some of the wine and watched a movie. It was dark by the time we got to the credits: “It’s late,” I said. “Maybe too late to get a taxi...”

“No worries,” she said, “I’ll give you a lift home.” 

Three months since we’d first met, and after numerous walks and coffee dates, I went over to hers to watch another movie. She’d picked out a horror film filled with gore and heart-pounding special effects. We were only halfway through, and I was not enjoying it but I definitely wasn’t about to say so.

Then Kitty spoke: “I’m scared,” she said. It was now or never. My heart pounding even more, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to me. Finally, we were near enough to kiss but, instead, we turned our faces back to the TV screen. She allowed my arm to remain around her, however, and I fixed my attention on the sensation of her head on my shoulder and the sweet smell of her hair. 

The movie ended, but neither of us moved. I was processing both the residual fright from what I’d just watched and my excited nervousness of us finally touching. Kitty looked up at me, pupils wide. I looked at her lips. Simultaneously, we each swivelled slightly so we were facing each other. 

Her lips were soft, full, and tantalisingly gentle as they met mine. After such a long wait, it felt like there was no need to hurry. We explored each other’s mouth with lips, tongue, and breath. Tasting each other. Teasing each other. 

This time, there was no suggestion of a ride home. Suddenly bold, we began to undress on the couch. Pausing to look as each new area of skin was revealed. The mystery of what had been hidden for those three months now being exposed to appreciative eyes. Her breasts – larger than they’d looked under her baggy tops. Her thighs and calves – more muscular than I’d anticipated even though I knew she was a keen sportswoman. I allowed her to see the soft, roundness of me and, when she reached to stroke the curve of my hip, I pulled her into another kiss. This time the kiss was firmer, my hunger for more expressed through my murmurs and groans as her hand travelled to the top of my thigh. 

“Come to the bedroom.” I let her lead me into the room next door. 

We stood, pressing the lengths of our naked bodies together: breasts to breasts, belly to belly, hips to hips. Kissing her still, I moved my leg between her thighs and felt her wetness smear onto my skin, revelling in the sensation as she slid over me, and hearing her gasps of pleasure as she ground up against me. 

“Let’s lie down.” She eased me onto the bed, kissing me on the mouth before beginning her journey south. Her lips left a moist trail as she kissed my neck and between my breasts. She latched onto each of my nipples in turn, testing them – and me – with her teeth, judging her pressure by my sounds and the involuntary pulse of my hips. Then she dotted kisses over my rib cage and belly, going lower and lower until she reached my mound. My legs were spread wide to accommodate her body as she slid herself down the bed to lie between my thighs. 

I wrapped my fingertips in her short hair and held my breath.

Her tongue. Oh, her tongue! Soft, wide, and wet strokes exploring the folds of my cunt. She was unrestrained, and I couldn’t hold back the broad smile on my face. It was a smile of sheer delight and joy that I’d found someone who was such an enthusiastic and talented lover. Why had we waited so long? What on earth had been holding us back from indulging in this?

Fingers joined her tongue: two, then three strong fingers entering me and beckoning me to follow her further on this path of pleasure. 

She worked my cunt into a frenzy with alternating soft and firm licks. When she sucked on my clit, I thought I’d have to ask her to stop – it was too much – but then my body levelled up and suddenly it wasn’t too intense, it was just right, and it was taking me towards my orgasm.

“Yes, yes, yes…”  Her fingers moved faster inside me, instinctively finding my sweet spot and holding me there. Holding me in a state of rapture. Holding me like a rollercoaster car that has reached the top of the track and now there is only one way to go. 

Her clever, beautiful tongue tipped me over the edge, her fingers now pressing on me firmly like the safety bar on the fairground ride, allowing me to trust that I could fully let go and she wouldn’t let me fall. 

And then her mouth on mine again and I tasted myself on her lips and breath and felt more waves of lust as I got off on this new intimacy. 

My thigh wedged itself between hers and, this time, she slid freely up and down the length of me, her slickness exciting me further. I moved my hand between our bodies and walked my fingers towards the heat and wet. When my palm made full contact with her cunt, we both gasped. She was so fucking wet and swollen, so ready for my touch.

I moved her off of me and onto her back. I knelt between her legs and took in the full glory of her bush – tightly wound curls, shining with her juices. 

My fingers traced the outline of her cunt lips, making a full circle from her clit, all the way down to the base of her opening, and then up and around the other side. Then one finger explored her clit more closely: light strokes and circles, wide arcs and pinpoint precision. I watched her face to gauge where my touch gave her the most pleasure.  

She didn’t want to wait any longer. She placed her hand firmly on top of mine and guided me to her desired place, her tempo, her urgency. I let her lead and then she let go of my hand, and I continued her dance. Her hips bucked in time with my strokes, and she called out freely, finally finding her release. 

Finally, after three months of waiting. Finally, after wondering if the sexual attraction was mutual. Finally, knowing – without a doubt – we would have to do this again. I’d never felt so free before and never had so much fun during sex. Those three months had allowed us to build our wanting and to build the trust we both needed to fully surrender and let go. I felt so met in my desire and so seen in my passion. Kitty was totally worth the wait.  

Photo by Masha Raymers