Munch Time 1

by Amanda Fleming

  "Ashley," she pulled back and whispered then, warningly. "Stop..."

  I didn't bother pointing out that she had kissed me. I just slid my arms around her neck, let go, and grabbed hold of what I wanted. She whimpered into this kiss, and I let my weight press against her -- she may have had eight inches on me, but she was feeling a bit weak at the moment. I pressed her onto her back on the rocks, and we rolled off onto the grass, with me on top.

  She squirmed under me. "Ashley, wait," she tried to speak, breaking the kiss.

  "For what?" I murmured, taking the opportunity to open a button and find her waist with my hands, reveling in how smooth her skin felt. It wasn't as slippery with sweat, or as heated as it had been last night, but it felt more real. It was Caitlyn under me, and that's what I wanted right now. My lips stroked her neck and my tongue tasted the hollow of her throat.

  Caitlyn gasped. "Ashley, stop. This isn't a good idea..."

  "Mmhmm, true." I nibbled on her neck, my hands undoing buttons. I felt her stomach against the backs of her fingers, then cloth, and I growled -- that wasn't what I wanted to touch. I slid my hands over her shoulders and up to the back of her neck, where her bikini top tied.

  "Ashley, no," she whimpered as my lips opened to suck deeply on her neck just below her ear.

  I pulled the strings free and ripped the cloth aside impatiently. "Were you talking to me?" I asked into her ear, my breath light and fast now as I undid more buttons. There was bare flesh under the backs of my hands now -- bare flesh that quivered and trembled with some very uneven breathing.

  "Wha...ah...when?" She asked breathlessly.

  "'Darling...please don't stop.'" I whispered in her ear, and opened her cover shirt, filling my hands with her breasts. They were warm and firm, silky smooth -- and trembling.

  "Oh, god..." She shuddered, whimpering. "What...when did I..."

  "When you were making love...I heard you...every time," I breathed into her ear, needing to hear it. "Who were you talking to?" My palms grazed light circles over her already taut nipples -- nipples I couldn't wait to taste. I licked her ear. "Who, Caitlyn?"

  "Oh, god, Ashley," she gasped in surprise, arching against that delicate touch. She was squirming desperately, her hands clutching the grass as if trying to escape -- but her hips were moving against me.

  "Who?" I asked in a very soft voice, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, my hands tantalizing her breasts -- it was so hard to think with them in my hands. She felt so good, so real. I nuzzled my way down the center of her chest, feeling her breasts and my own hands against my cheeks, and slid my lips over one silky breast, nibbling at it. "Please...Caitlyn...tell me."

  She gasped with each touch of my mouth, writhing on the grass. Finally, when my hands under her back lifted her to my lips and I captured her nipple, she cried out. "Oh, god, Ashley!"

  I sucked her nipple, lashing it with my tongue, and then switched to the other breast, feeling her twist closer. "Oh, my god, darling," she moaned out.

  I shuddered hearing that, hearing the confirmation. "Caitlyn..." I murmured, sliding up and nuzzling her throat, before lifting my head to look down into her eyes. My hands were smoothing over her hips -- and untying the strings that held her bikini bottom on.

  She looked up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes, her body moving slightly and her breathing still very unsteady as she felt me stripping off the last thing between us.

  "This is what you wanted," I whispered, my fingertips tracing her inner thigh.

  She shuddered, closing her eyes.

  "This..." My fingers slid along her mound, and gently parted her slit, caressing.

  She gasped, her eyes popping back open, and she swallowed hard.

  "This..." My fingers stroked her slit, and I couldn't help but moan at feeling how wet she already was for me.

  "Oh..." She moaned back softly, closing her eyes again. "Yes."

  "You wanted me, not him," I whispered against her lips.

  "Yes..."

  I stroked my hand up and down her slit, and on the next stroke, let my middle finger glide into her pussy. My own pussy throbbed when I felt how slick and warm her soft flesh was inside, gripping my finger with a sudden tension.

  "Ashley!" She squealed against my mouth.

  I couldn't wait any longer. I slid down eagerly, my hands sliding back to her breasts, holding her down, my shoulders pushing her legs open wider, and then I ran my mouth over her mound, my tongue tracing her slit. Her taste and scent filled my senses, and I moaned her name, even as she moaned mine, and was lost.

  I ate Caitlyn without finesse or patience, but with my eyes wide open, watching her nearly naked body writhing on the grass, her breasts arching up under my hands and her head thrown back, her fingers clawing at my arms. Whenever my tongue found a sensitive spot -- which it found many of -- it lingered and fluttered, driving little gasping squeals from her, until I finally just pulled her clit into my mouth and lashed it unmercifully with my tongue, driving her up onto her shoulders and to orgasm with a scream that echoed.

  The spasms in her body nearly rocked my mouth off of her pussy, and I grabbed her hips to hold tight, not willing to relinquish any of the delicious nectar that I was finding.

  When she relaxed, I backed off, nibbling at her outer lips, just lightly teasing her, keeping her sensitized.

  She ran a hand through her hair, shuddering with a soft groan. "God, Ashley," Caitlyn sighed, "that was amazing."

  "Mm...yes..." I whispered against her. She reached down, raising her head to smile shyly down at me, stroking my hair back. Our eyes met, and I slowly ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top. She gasped in a very quick breath. I took her hands in mine and gently pressed them down into the grass, holding them as I began a slow, luxurious stroking with my tongue, my lips rubbing and soft against her pussy. I held her eyes with mine, watching them widen as her breathing deepened again.

  I recognized the look in her eyes -- I'd seen it many times. There's nothing quite like watching a girl watch you eat her, especially during your first night together. You see every reaction and twitch in her face, and she can't look away, because the long-anticipated image of you eating her is just too erotic for her to stop.

  Every breath from her was slow and halting, with catches and shudders, as she watched me. Her breasts trembled and quivered, and this time, as I went down on my best friend with all the skill -- and love -- that I could summon, I watched as the pleasure in her face intensified, mingled with shock, with amazement at how intense the sensations were. Her legs quivered, and then relaxed, along with her stomach, as her hands went limp. Her face relaxed, the tension draining out of her, and I watched with relish as she floated, her eyes locked on mine as I feasted on her and her body totally surrendered, drifting on the ecstasy of finally having what she had obviously wanted for so long.

  I have no idea how long I made love to her pussy -- my whole world was her glorious eyes, the sound of her breathing, slow and deep and unsteady, the feel of her soft mound and satiny slick lips under my mouth, the taste of her pulsing around my tongue. I felt drunk on her, intoxicated by her smell and her taste, and finally I could wait no longer to bring her still higher and gradually focused on her clit, intensifying the sensation with the tiny fluttering movements of my tongue and the massage of my lips that I knew would send her into orbit.

  Her eyes went wide as her breathing stopped, and her body tensed, her eyes staring helplessly at me -- she was now far too relaxed to hold back, and she soared straight over the cliff. I saw that tiny hint of shock in her face that I recognized as an unexpected and unstoppable orgasm, and then she was gone -- her head snapped back, her body locked up.

  "Assssshhhhleeeeeeeeeeeyy..." Caitlyn wailed, her whole body taut and her hands clenched into fists.

  I kept up the long, light, continuous sucking on her clit, backing off slightly as I felt her start to relax -- and then lashed it again with my tongue, swirling around it and then locking my lips around it, s
ucking in waves.

  "Oh -- oh g -- ahhAHHH!" She screamed again, her legs bending and her feet kicking in helpless spasm along my hips.

  I blazed her through her second orgasm and into an immediate third before I felt that tremor in her stomach muscles that signaled an increasing risk of cramping, and backed off, bringing her down with slow, very gentle licks, no longer pleasuring but just soothing, my hands releasing hers to massage her stomach and thighs, easing strained muscles.

  She went limp, her knees splayed and her head back flat on the ground, panting and staring up at the blue sky overhead.

  I reluctantly slid my mouth off of her, nibbling at her quivering stomach, and slid up her body, wiping my mouth on my arm as my hands soothingly caressed her now sweaty body.

  Caitlyn finally looked up at me, her eyes dazed.

  "Ashley," she whispered, looking into my eyes. "God, I love you so much."

  My eyes went as big as they could go and filled with tears. We kissed, slowly, warmly.

  I smoothed her hair back, and her hands slid up my back, pulling me down against her. For the first time, amazingly, as I felt her nakedness under me, my own arousal asserted itself. Just the contact with her body nearly brought me to orgasm, and I know Caitlyn felt it, because her look of relaxed, happy wonder faded into one of slightly smug pleasure.

  The next thing I knew I was on my back, my own clothes being slid off of me, and Caitlyn's mouth was everywhere. I arched at her lips on my neck, whimpered when she licked my breasts, giggled when she tongued my navel, and then I was dreaming again, feeling that wonderful tongue inside me, her lips stroking me.

  I wanted to string this out, delay my own ecstasy as long as I could -- but my body would not be denied. With the image of Caitlyn -- my best friend and lover, staring up at me from between my trembling thighs, her hands on my stomach and breast -- filling my eyes, I came, hard and rapid-fire, once, twice, and a third time, crying out her name again and again, losing myself in finally, finally knowing. The third time I came, in between screams of her name, I told her I loved her as well, without even having to think.

  At length, we relaxed, curled up together in the sun, with her head pillowed on my stomach and my hand kneading her hair and scalp, drifting on the dreamy afterglow.

  "Oh, crap," I sighed.

  She jerked her head up, looking up at me with alarm. "What?"

  I winced. "Do you have any idea how badly sunburned I'm going to be?"

  She burst out laughing, sliding up to kiss me, staring down at me with this lovely sort of confused wonder in her face.

  I just smiled, my future pain forgotten, and kissed her.

  "So...what exactly happened the other day," I asked, "that made you blush when I mentioned Carla and Don?"

  She looked indignant, though that same faint blush returned. "What about you and Lucy?"

  This time, I blushed, but then, as I looked into her eyes, I just brushed her hair back and kissed her, and she melted against me.

  Some time later, we wandered back, hand in hand. I felt unaccountably shy about that, but Caitlyn wouldn't let go of me for some reason.

  We reached the beach, where some delicious smells were emanating from a roaring fire and the grill. Everyone looked up as we arrived.

  "Hey, lovely, beautiful," Don said, and Carla smiled from behind him. Lucy looked up from playing cards with Robert and Tim. She waved, and the boys nodded. Chris asked how Caitlyn was feeling.

  "Oh, better," she said casually.

  No one so much as winked, much less commented on the fact that we were holding hands, and our clothes and hair probably looked like we'd come by to report the hurricane making landfall on the other side of the island.

  Caitlyn and I exchanged a rueful look -- I absolutely hate being the last one to know something.

  ***

  I yawned as I closed my mailbox, wandering half-awake to the elevators and ascending to my floor, almost stumbling as I stuffed the mail in my bag and fumbled my keys out of my pocket, unlocking my apartment and heading inside.

  Immediately, the smells of some heavenly cooking hit me, and I perked up, my stomach rumbling. There was no one else in the kitchen, and the living room looked empty.

  Licking my lips, I stepped up to the stove and used a handy spoon to taste what was cooking, smiling in pleasure.

  Arms slid around my waist from behind. "Hey there."

  I leaned back. "Hey. What's the occasion?" I turned around, meeting my girlfriend's sparkling eyes, and she held out an envelope.

  Raising my eyebrows, I opened it.

  "A birth announcement?" I asked incredulously. "What the...oh." I rolled my eyes. "She sent me an announcement?" I asked, feeling a bit nauseous.

  She grinned. "Just thought you should see it."

  "Mmhmm..." I nodded, playing it up a little. "Hey, says there's a visitation..."

  She snatched the slip of paper from my hand and crumpled it up, tossing it at the trash.

  I grinned. "Jealousy, Cait? You?"

  She snorted. "Aren't we full of ourselves?" Then she leaned in to kiss me. When she pulled back, she raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Ahem."

  I looked at her in confusion, and then belatedly noticed what she was wearing. I blinked, and grinned a little. "Oh, I see...big plans for after dinner?"

  She tossed her hair with aplomb. "Of course not; what kind of girl do you think I am?"

  "I'm sure someone's working on that," I said absently, my eyes tracing her. Then I frowned. "You know, I'm not sure an apron that only covers that much of you is really very practical, especially if you're going to dress like that underneath."

  Caitlyn just pushed me up against the counter, kissing me hungrily, and my last coherent thought for quite some time was a fervent hope that the food wouldn't get too badly burned.

  Lovers Without Realizing It

  I groaned softly as I settled back at my desk, reaching down surreptitiously to massage one of my calves.

  "Too many trips to the copier again, Jessica?" My boss asked me sympathetically on her way by with her third cup of coffee.

  I heaved a deep sigh, starting to respond, but she was already back through her office door, letting it swing mostly closed as she settled in, sipping her coffee. I shook my head and shifted my massage to my sore feet. It certainly wasn't my fault they installed the copier on the far side of the floor – and it wasn't Diane's fault that she needed things copied a hundred times a day.

  I'd been Diane's assistant for not quite a year, on my fifth attempt at finding a steady job in the field. My first boss had been a kindly older man, but his second heart attack had forced his retirement, and there'd been no other job open for me that wouldn't have required more sucking up than I was willing to do. My second boss had tried to convince me that assistants always worked until 3 a.m. Don't get me wrong – I don't mind long hours. I don't have a life for them to interfere with anyway. Still, if I wanted to work eighteen hour days seven days a week, I could have gone to law school – and then I wouldn't be holding down assistant jobs for crap pay and no benefits. The third and fourth jobs...well, the less said about those, the better.

  Then I had come to Elsin and Associates, a tiny law firm that consisted of Diane Elsin and her partner, the elderly man whose practice she had taken over. He was near retirement, but apparently didn't like his wife all that much – so a young, ambitious lawyer who could take over his practice while not making him work too hard fit him like a glove.

  Diane also had two paralegals who worked for her, but I rarely saw them much. They worked on another floor of the office building where the law firm had its offices, and we shared them with two other such firms, so I basically only knew them as names on interoffice mail envelopes.

  Diane Elsin had made a reputation for herself as a trial lawyer in her late twenties and early thirties – now forty years old, she practiced mostly as a trial consultant to larger firms. She still cut quite an imposing figure on the rare occasions she actually
went to a trial, though – tall, fit, blonde, long legs, cold blue eyes – she was the very image of a ruthless, bloodsucking lawyer.

  I thought she was actually a pretty nice woman, myself – quiet and private about herself, but always composed, with a ready smile. She was also one of the few lawyers I'd met that didn't treat their assistants like slaves – she wasn't one of those fruity saccharine types either. When she asked you to call her Diane, it wasn't patronizing. When she asked you to get coffee for her, it was because she couldn't get it herself at the moment, being stuck on a conference call or coming in a bit late and needing to rush straight to a meeting.

  Of course, by this point in my career with her, I'd barely gotten up the courage to call her anything at all. I'm what you'd call the shy type. Very petite from head to toe, short red hair, big green eyes, still far too many freckles across my nose for a girl of twenty-eight, and a body that I worked hard on but seemed capable of attracting attention only from married men a quarter-century older than me. The fact that I hadn't been on a date with a boy since middle school didn't help with that at all. I couldn't even take advantage of it, for crying out loud – I've known I was gay since I was sixteen, when I realized that my masturbatory fantasies hadn't involved a boy in quite some time and weren't likely to any time soon. It hadn't taken very many dates with women to seal things more or less in stone for me. I was lucky, though – I came out in college, my friends were supportive, my mom seemed relieved that I had finally figured it out, and my dad's reaction consisted of one piece of advice: "Just remember, honey, a woman can be just as much of a prick as any man." Thanks, Dad – not bad advice, though.