I was never “out” with it because it was just that certain something that I always carried with me since my age of innocence; when I did not quite understand that I really “liked” women-but rather, knew that I liked what I felt-intimately with and around women. Only certain ones though, not women in general-it was more circumstantial, occasional-situational.

During my age of innocence, I was overly curious about the anatomy of a vagina because I had seen an adult one, smelled it and put my lips on it at that very early age and ever since then, I was constantly curious about the anatomy of pussy and what every part of it was for. I knew that touch and kiss brought it some kind of explosive pleasure that made you submit-and after having explored one myself; I began to explore my own at an early age too. Girls and my fascination with pussy was just my “thing-” my secret thing and something that weighed heavily on my mind in my innocent aged-years; far too early for the pre-occupation I had with it and I would masturbate-chronically, until I was sleepy-all the time.

Though, in my innocent years, I carried on heavy [well-beyond the typical make-out sessions] with my TGGF from third grade on into middle-school, nothing spelled “you really do like the girlies, too” than around eighth grade when my TGGF licked, sucked and kissed me from head to toe while fingering me, making my pussy swell and explode; treating me like a stick of candy from out of our brown baggie of goodies.

Of all the kissing and grinding that I had done with she and countless other girls my age up through that time, after so much licking and sucking with hands and fingers all over your body and clit and after having had it stimulated and kissed at an improper age in my innocent years; I kept chasing that explosive feeling by all means accessible.

By my pre-teen age of innocence, I wanted some mouth action-badly. Still a virgin, I wanted it done-yet, still longed to do it, but with a certain kind of girl (preferably older than me). I had always had a thing for older men and older women back in my age of innocence and pre-teens, I think because my first (inappropriate) experiences were with a few-so I couldn’t help but desire that. To see a grown, hairy pussy again remained like a stain on my brain for years and I had a mission to see one, and put my mouth on one, especially after having done so-incidentally. As I got older, I literally studied “vagina” and every part of it-that any encyclopedia, porn or book would allow my eyes to see.

In my innocent years as a pre-teen, “Ms. Beautiful” was my mission. She was perfect. Totally accessible and loved and admired me (like an adult to a pre-teen) yet, I fantasized of changing that in any way possible or just enough that she would let me seduce her-so that I could execute my mission-because I was certainly on one.
Wise beyond my years already, I turned up my charm and ability to be able to hold a conversation with an adult, several octaves when I was around Ms. Beautiful. I had the amazing ability to do that at any moment during my age of innocence’s pre-teen years. So much so that if the adult didn’t brand me some future “gonna be big and important somebody,” they were adamant about their own pre-teen friending me [in hopes that what they saw as “intelligence”] would hopefully rub of on their own child.

Other adults would enjoy my company and conversation to a point where that normal pat-on-the-head/baby-talk/sing-talk they would do with my other peers; they never did that with me. It would be normal conversation about appropriate things however, but forgetting they were talking to a twelve and thirteen year-old.

I was always “interested” in a lot of things, even things that didn’t interest me. I just wanted to know why it lived, why it had life, why it existed-and what should be done with it. So things that I was interested in-took on a life of its own (in my interest in exploring it).

Being wise beyond my years afforded me a spot at many-a-teachers’ pet desk from first grade, through pre-teen and into early high-school years.

More was always expected of me versus my peers my age. I had a lot of responsibility at home and outside of home. Even amongst my peers, I was always elected “in charge,” by them or their parents- whether we went swimming, the store, hung out on the porch-you name it. Drill team captain: that was me. Lead the team in how to point your toes while prancing and marching correctly: that was me. I had my way with anybody. I was gentle, yet distinguished. And although in my age of innocence I was the Queen Bee of my circles; my charm and gentleness was always a part of my person. I was never a mean-girl, so, I had my way in my little world as well-operations were orchestrated by me and went my way-for years. Rejection and made to feel isolated and unworthy was never my experience-ever (hence, why in some way, from the back of my ego, Cruella’s son had hell to pay-thanks to her). Because anything less than what I was used to was a total culture-shock to me. I did not tolerate it-because I never had to.

My entire life, I always got my way-no one disliked me, put me off or rejected me.

So, I was not apprehensive about whether or not my mission: “Ms. Beautiful” would work. I studied and pre-planned the night for long enough time, that I felt I judged her and how I wanted it all to go down, perfectly.

I thought I had the meticulous master plan for her that night, although she could not entertain the thought of it or seeing what I wanted to happen any more than Stevie Wonder could; despite how I thought the lyrics to: “That Girl” was perfect lyrical foreplay for that premeditated night that I arranged for the sleepover with Ms. Beautiful but under the guise of it being for myself and her daughter (who was my age).

After that dreadful night [that, like orgasmic osmosis, I lost my-everything into the seat of my panties while under those covers lying next to Ms. Beautiful] that was it for me. Something had to be done about this aching in my body that I had for getting my mouth on some pussy or one on mine. I remembered the sensation all too well, way too early, and it kept ants in my pants. Too many years had passed and the hum drum of kissing and grinding wasn’t getting it for me anymore. I needed to take it higher.

When I first started having sex, I wanted it done and it got done-just like I wanted (and instructed it). Still, I wanted to do it, too, but had to settle for sucking his dick instead. So I sucked that dick like the pussy that I wanted suck-and I treated it very well. I lost all control of myself.

Though my TGGF and me carried our “well-past making out” make-out sessions on into middle school; by the time we entered high-school, we called ourselves liking boys and miraculously flipped what was a physical relationship to: “Closest Encounters Turned Fondness for One Another Like That of the Best-Friend Kind.”

For many years, I had no certain girl or woman in my life that I considered having sex with. It was almost like maybe perhaps all those years up through high-school that I was pre-planning: kissing, grinding and messing around with girls-perhaps-was just a phase.

But as it turned out, it was not a phase after all.

One night in particular, a girlfriend of mine (whom I had been cool with for a few years) had propositioned me-coyly at first. I had even forgotten that she and I had talked about sex with women before. I guess she retained it-I didn’t. Not so much as a thought about it, because I would still masturbate thinking about it, but because I wasn’t actively seeing girls as frequently as I was back when I was younger; I thought that after I would masturbate to the thought of it-the desire was exclusive to my mind during masturbation, only. But then FriendGirl caught me by surprise.

She followed me around the house like a sick puppy.
She was over to my house pretty much the whole day-up until it was time for me to get dressed to go my job at the bank at 8:30p.
I didn’t make it on time that night though. Because by 8pm I had her ass hemmed up in my bedroom, sucking the life out of her pussy until she broke down in mind.

FriendGirl was sexy too. Oh my goodness.

She was lucky as all get open. Because little did she know, that desire to put my mouth on one, had many dress rehearsals in my mind for many years. All those years of built up frustration, agony then repression got taken out on her. She did not know what to do with herself that night. She had never been with a woman either way, but had been attracted to me for a long time-just never said anything to me about it. She said that every time she got the nerve to bring it up-something would cause her to decide against it-because she wasn’t sure how I felt about her in that way.

I noticed that she would try to be cute around me-and shy sometimes, but unlike most of my friends, she and I did not grow up together. We met as teenagers, and though we ended up being closer than I would normally allow anyone whom I didn’t grow up with; we weren’t BFF’s.
She said that she had masturbated countless times to the thought of me going down on her and it heightened after a conversation we had where she remembered me telling her that going down on a woman was something that I wasn’t opposed to doing.

I had to catch her off-guard:

“Save the conversation about how the desire came about and tell it to me while I go down on you then,” I said-looking at her seriously, without cracking a smile.

Leaning up against the kitchen counter, I paused-then stared straight at her to quiet the moment and force her to submit. As girlfriends, talking about regular girlfriend kind of stuff (guys, other chicks, life etc); she always had a sassy mouth. Since I had to upper hand on the moment, I had to exert that over her-intimidate her somewhat-to take her down a few notches, especially for what was about to go down, a sort of: fore play before play.

“So you are gonna tell while I get you?” I asked her-still refusing to crack a grin or a smile.

She positioned her face to smile somewhat-merely hoping to get one out of me. I didn’t budge.

That made her nervous.

She began to move her feet, hands and fingers about-as if every part of her that I laid eyes on; she felt I was picking apart.

I won.

She submitted.

So I gave her a slight half smile. I was getting aroused-immensely.
I then bit my bottom lip and let her follow my eyes that followed below her stomach.

She knew what I was looking at.

She started shaking like it was cold inside the house all of a sudden.

I was so eager to get at that pussy of hers, that by the time I started from kissing her lips, neck, shoulders, tits and stomach; I had both my hand down in her crouch.

My body shook. I began to quiver on her neck. I started slurping and shaking because I was caught off-guard.

She had so much hair on her pussy that I got a head-rush. I rolled my eyes in my head, bit my bottom lip, rolled my head back some and I fucking and exhaled. I love me some hairy pussy. She had no idea whatsoever that hairy pussy turned me on slightly more than a shaved pussy would have. She was so nervous and I was too-slightly, but in my mind, I had rehearsed the fine art of how to eat a pussy so well that once my mouth hit that motherfucker; I knew that riding that clit would be like riding a bicycle again after having not done so in a long time: you never forget how to once you get on that bitch.

She had no idea that I was about to eat her senseless.
She was so nervous. Secretly I was too, but I knew that I knew how to eat some pussy so my cockiness overpowered my nervousness. With that hairy pussy on my hands and all five of my right hand fingers clinching her clit and wiggling it gently like I was playing a game of jump-rope; I knew that this was going to be the perfect pussy for me and an awesome first time.

I wanted all of her inhibitions to be gone. She was so weak and moaning helplessly that if she wasn’t so embarrassed and afraid of my response, I could tell that she was ready to tell me she loved me-already.

I was so aroused while sinking my teeth into her neck:
“Ooh. I can’t take it anymore more. Back” I pointed to the direction of my room.

She gasped like she had cum or was interrupted from being about to do so. She bent over some as if she was in a tight to piss.
“Are you alright?” I whispered.
“You need to go to the bathroom?” I asked.
“No…” she sighed and held my hand so that she could follow me to the bedroom.

When we got in, I pulled the door and kicked it from behind while she headed for the bottom edge of bed, taking off all her clothes. From the bottom edge of the bed I grabbed her with my mouth as she began to scream out helplessly-shaking like a single leaf in the brisk cold wind. She was stiff and stunned with her head thrown back and mouth open.

I locked in on her clit and told her to throw it to me slowly-slowly grind to meet me.

All she could scream was “oh shit” to the top of her lungs-as if she was constantly falling down a hill. I was merciless with her clit. Each thrust she made, I was meeting her with the same force until she got stuck there-begging and screaming my name like she was possessed.

I lifted up some and raised her from the back of her thighs to signal her to scoot back to the top of the bed. She tried. I kept locking in on her clit: pulling, snapping it back and pulling until she was unable to move.

In between pulls I kept frustrating her: “Scoot back some! Scoot back some!”

The pleasure was paralyzing her. She couldn’t move.

All she wanted to do was fall back and get all that I was giving to her. I felt sorry for her-she was helpless, aggressively aroused, out of control and didn’t know what to do with her self.
Mid-ways there as I kept sucking on her repeatedly, as if I was eating on the best Blow Pop manufactured.

I whispered: “Aint this what you wanted? Is this what you thought about?”

She began to yell the word: “better,” but it turned into all “R’s” as she was caught by surprise from me switching from sucking her like a lollipop to whipping my hard, thick, wet strong tongue back and forth and around and around her clit as if I was punishing her. I lay my heavy long tongue flat on her clit and wiggled it like a snake until I met her clit with the tip of my tongue.
She fell flat to the bed and yelled.
I devoured her then pulled gently:
“Throw it to me slowly,” I told her.

She did.

I then began to suck her off so good that I had her emptying out every desire and fantasy in her head that she ever held secret, about what it would be like to have me down on her in this way. I wanted her to feel completely naked in her mind as she was at the body. I broke her down completely. That pussy made me crazy. It was everything I wanted a pussy to be. I wanted to do everything with her shit.

She was busting and throbbing so good while trying to tell me all, that she was having a hard time telling the fantasies straight. Every time she would try the get too relaxed and lay there-getting her clit sucked on to perfection; I would slide off of it in the middle of her pleasure and begin to nibble all over the top of her pussy; only allowing my bottom lip to tease her clit-just to cause her agony-making her know that she’d better talk or else. It didn’t have to be perfect, just the best way she could. It was turning me on to listen to the pleasure I was giving her, riff countless ways from the sound of her voice. What she had to say really didn’t interest me as much as the pleasure in her voice-it was harmonic and turned me on-it was getting me off.

I then climbed above her and grabbed her pussy:
“You’re not allowed to keep any thoughts in your head away from me okay? You like it when I put my warm mouth on that clit don’t you?” I said aggressively.

“Yes. Oh my goodness, yes,” she sighed out.

“Well, if you like that, you’ve got to earn the right to lay up in here and moan only. No more secrets from me-you waited too long,” I said, while teasing her clit with my thumb.

“Ohhhhhh,” she cried out and sulked with pleasure while I sank my teeth deep into her neck; playing her clit like an instrument while clutching then taking her entire pussy in my hand and shaking it:

“You hear me?” I grunted aggressively.

“Yes. Oh gaud yes, yes. I love it. I love it. I can’t take it!” she said.

She was loving it when I was grabbing her pussy and talking tough in her ear with my thumb circling her swollen clit.
She was out of her mind that night.
And so was I.
That pussy was wonderful-it was perfect. I wanted to eat her every which way I possibly could while keeping her lit and weak. I finished her off by putting her on her hands and knees.

I then got behind her and grabbed her by her lower back. I pushed it down to the bed so that she could stuff her face in the pillow and give me full and complete access to that hairy pussy she had beneath her. Oh my goodness-that garden was beautiful. My tongue was dancing back and forth underneath my top teeth uncontrollably.

I gave it to her good because she had no idea how bad and for so many years how I wanted to get it with a girl that turned me on-one who had that certain something. She turned out to be all that, and gave me that one thing better. That thing that turned me on in many-a-masturbation moments: some hairy pussy-busy and bushy everywhere. Something about that was natural, sexy and primordial; it drove me wild to touch it and put my mouth on it.

With her ass completely erect, I took my hand and cuffed her whole pussy to feel just how much of that pussy was thrown back; fit cuffed perfectly inside my hand.

I was so ready to come behind her and put that clit in a dangerous clutch between my lips and tongue. While behind her, from underneath, I reached between that garden and gently pulled down on her clit; twisting it swiftly like I was unscrewing a light bulb.
Her moans were so helpless that I almost felt sorry for her. The pleasure was killing her.

I pushed her back down and climbed above her, biting her neck and whispering perverted shit in her ear about how perfect her pussy was, while doing what I was asking of her, with her:

“I need you to take your hands and knead that pussy downwards-nonstop-until I can feel that whole pussy pushed to the back of you to meet my mouth from behind. You hear me?”

I was so horny. Her pussy in my hands like that was making me crazy.
Her moans and screams of passion were so sweet. She was shaking and trying to speak some gibberish while she was masturbating it for me. I had her kneading that pussy for me until I met her back there. The sound of her hair and wetness was incredible. It was rugged and sexy. She let me use her up-and that that turned me on. I was loving FriendGirl that night. This was the kind of night was long overdue for me. I couldn’t help myself.

While sliding down the sides of her body with my hands, I traced my tongue down her spine and wiggled that bitch right in her ass. She was moaning helplessly and masturbating like a wild woman. I needed in. I then slithered beneath her-pulling at it that pussy as she began to knead-like I showed her to.

“Oh my gaud. Ah! Shit-please…” she moaned out-helplessly like she was begging for mercy. She was about to cum again.

I quickly turned around and locked in on her clit while she plopped down screaming with so much pleasure, that she damned near smothered me. She came ferociously while I lay there with my legs crossed tightly and cumming too. My pussy was uber wet.
It was a tragic mess in that room and so was FriendGirl after that night…

I knew, for sure, that things were going to be different the day that I picked her up from work because her car was in the shop. Not thinking any more of it-than me merely having another friend with me (who had been riding shot gun the whole day), when FriendGirl walked up to the car-she was not happy. Having never seen this particular friend of mine, she was staring at my friend and sizing her up from head to toe. I could see the annoyance in FriendGirls face as she stood outside of the car staring at my friend in the passenger seat (waiting on me to have my friend get out of the front seat to get in the back seat). I was so enthralled with the look on FriendGirl’s face that my friend had to tap my shoulder to get me to snap out of it-and to instruct FriendGirl to get her ass in the back seat. The lift in FriendGirl’s brow told me that would be one hell of a problem if I did that. I tapped my friend back on the shoulder and pointed to the back seat with my thumb:

“Girl, hop in the back. She’s getting dropped off first since she’s closest, then I’m going to drop you off.”

FriendGirl’s frown got deeper.

My friend got out and got into the back seat.

FriendGirl got in with her sass-mouth and said: “Thanks.”
Then she paused and ended with: “…for coming to get me.”
She said no more-the whole ride home.

When we pulled up to her house, she got out of the car and looked back in then asked: “Angie can you come in for a second?”
“Sure,” I said to FriendGirl.

I walked in behind her. She sat her stuff down and immediately turned to me and said: “Who is that? And what are ya’ll about to do?” she squinted-sarcastically.

I replied like some busted beau:

“Uh-nothing. I’m just about to take her home and finish up some stuff before I go in tonight,” I replied.

“Mmm, must be nice. 8:30’s not that far from now. You know how you do when you’re running late for work….Sometimes you don’t even care about being late if time is flying and you’re having fun…” she said-sarcastically. Reminding me about how I was so into her pussy that first night, that having to be at work at 8:30p did not happen until around 11p.

I replied and hit her on the nose:

“Cute-real cute, but, it’s not that kind of party-it’s just one of my BFF’s,” I replied.

“Mmm, well she’s real cute, your: ‘BFF’,” said FriendGirl, using her fingers to make quotations.

“She is, but she’s just a girl that I went to school with. I’m not sleeping with her!” I yelled and laughed.

“Hmm. You weren’t sleeping with me either-up until a couple hours before you went in to work that day,” she replied, sarcastically.
I explained:

“For the record and just so you know. I’m not into women like that-in spite of how it may seem when I’m with you. I know that sounds typical and corny but, I do not just like women-generally speaking,”

I said, using my fingers to make quotation marks.

I continued:

“It’s a certain something-it’s situational,” I replied-wiggling my right hand really fast.

“Oh, and I guess I was that certain-something huh?” she replied-not believing a damned word I said.

“Girl, I don’t see attractive women and get attracted to them like how a man would or even how a totally gay woman would-it’s not like that,” I explained.

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she stood there with a faraway look on her face as if she could clearly see that something was about to go down after I left her house. She was not trying to hear anything I had to say as being the truth.

Into this thing, she became more curious about who I was on the phone with and who I was hanging out with at any time.

It was very confusing to her about as uncomfortable as it was to me.

It was hard getting her back to that type of friends we were: her being a BFF/girlfriend rather than a FriendGirl.

Our friendship was way too awkward after that, because I could go back to being regular girlfriends with her during the day, and when the surge would hit me, I could sure as hell use some of her FriendGirl many-a-night.

For her, she needed to have me treat her in the daytime with the same emotion that I did in the night time. Her “way” turned “more-than-just-a-BFF/friend” day and night.

When FriendGirl could see that I could turn it on and off-she didn’t like that, and our friendship turned very lopsided.

Between trying to punish me (in retaliation of her turning damned near all BFF’s into ones that I was now sleeping with) while juggling her surfacing religious apprehensions; our thing was going haywire.

We still kept fucking around (between when she couldn’t fight her urges to come see me and her “some-of-the-time” boyfriend).
She would be in crazy sexual tights: “Just touch me-touch me-please,” she would beg, telling me that she needed it just one more time (time after time after time).

She even came over, pregnant as all hell-begging me to eat her. She was clueless and not knowing what to do with herself sexually or religiously. That emotional struggle of hers was a turn off for me.
I didn’t like it that she was one of those broads that couldn’t help what she was feeling and then would run to church on Sunday and Wednesday’s repenting, but then by Thursday, she would let the “devil make her flesh weak.”

A year or so into our friendship (the regular girlfriend/BFF-ish side of it), while she was pregnant; she had real bad car accident-the casualty was the baby. I was really sad for her loss and her feelings behind it, but what I didn’t like was how she contributed the loss to being God’s curse for what she and I had been doing and she secretly blamed me. She wouldn’t admit to me-but I knew that she did. It was like she totally forgot that she would be begging me to so much as put my hands on her pussy-any way she could get it. I wasn’t approaching her-because I could tell that she had a lot of things rumbling on inside of her: her emotions and her religious hang-ups.
I was very disappointed by it all and her changes secretly hurt me but I didn’t say anything to her about it because she was going through enough already. Her mind was gone on so many levels that everything was spiraling out of control with her-from my eyes. I just wanted her to go away-far away from me, after a while. I liked her, but I didn’t like her mind.”

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