Christine and Misaki Alone at Night

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Christine walked along the dark village street from the railway station. She was feeling frustrated: Michael had not been in the mood, and with two weeks alone in front of her, she was looking forward to getting into bed with a glass of wine, lighting a candle and relaxing beneath her warm duvet. The rain and the cold made her glad for her high-heeled black leather boots. She huddled into her long winter coat and started walking up the dark lane that lead to her cottage.

The tenant’s car was parked in the drive. Christine had mixed feelings. Now that his new job meant he’d be away for weeks at a time, Michael had insisted that they take a lodger – as much for her company as anything else. She supposed she would have someone to talk to, but of course she wouldn’t be able to go early to bed and enjoy some alone-time quite as easily.

Misaki was a sweet thing though: just 18, a student at the local university, she had only moved in two days ago.

Christine walked quietly up to the front room window: with any luck, Misaki would be in her room – with bad luck, she’d have invited a friend over.

The front room looked inviting between the gap in the curtains. Misaki had lit a fire, which was lighting the room with its pleasantly flickering flames. The girl was sat on the sofa, lost in thought, or possibly meditating. Her head was bowed, her eyes hidden beneath her square-cut fringe, her thick black hair falling over her face. Her legs crossed, her bare knees and thighs exposed beneath her short skirt. She seemed to be shaking, and for a moment Christine thought that she might be crying.

In the break in the wind, Christine heard Misaki gasp. She looked closer, her eyes growing used to the dark.

“Oh,” Christine said to herself.

Misaki’s hands were under her skirt, the girl was playing with herself on the sofa.

Christine took a step back. It was wrong to watch this, but it was starting to rain again, and her curly dark hair was getting wet. She walked to the front door, muttered an apology to the wind, and rang the bell.

After a few moments, a light came on in the hall, and she heard Misaki come to the door.

“It’s only me,” Christine said, reassuringly, “I forgot my keys.”

Misaki opened the door carefully.

She said: “hello miss, I didn’t expect you back so early…”

Christine came in, hanging her coat up.

“I think Michael wanted to be by himself. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s worrying about his new job…”

Misaki nodded her head.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Christine said. “I’ll come in and sit next to the fire for a bit…”

She saw Misaki look slightly alarmed.

“The log smoke smells nice, and I’m so cold…”

Christine sat down on the ledge by the fire, stretching her legs out in front of her. Misaki sat back down on the sofa, crossing her legs.

“Not too lonely here, by yourself?”

Misaki shook her head.

“Not at all. It’s so comfortable. I had an essay to do, but I kept thinking about being here, in front of the fire…”

Christine was thoroughly used to the dark now. She looked at the young girl: to be honest, she could be anything from fifteen to thirty… she was so young. She remembered a young Japanese girl at college, the stolen moments in their halls of residence.

Somewhere inside Christine, a small flame burned brighter. She tried not to think about Misaki, just a few minutes ago, touching herself, playing with her clit, on the verge of an orgasm… still wet under that short skirt.

Christine rummaged in a wicker basket by the fire, finding a half-empty packet of cigarettes.

“Do you mind?”

Misaki smiled.

“Can I have one?”

Christine said: “of course, but I only smoke here, it goes right up the chimney. That way, it’s our secret, and Michael will never know.”

Misaki came over, knelt down next to Christine and took a cigarette.

The fireplace was big but the chimney hood was small. The two women were close to each other, Christine could smell Misaki’s hair: a hint of peach, of vanilla. She closed her eyes, letting the smoke trickle from her mouth. She could feel Misaki’s body, touching her shoulders, her hips, her legs.

In a daze, Christine lent forward, her lips brushing the Japanese girl’s hair.

Immediately she knew that Misaki had felt her.

She thought: “oh god, I’m making an idiot of myself.”

But Misaki’s hand had crept around her body.

Christine thought: “this can’t be happening.”

The Japanese girl threw her cigarette into the fire, and turned to face Christine.

“You had a nice night planned with Michael?”

Christine nodded her head. She didn’t dare to speak, her mouth was so dry.

“But it didn’t happen.”

She spoke matter-of-factly.

“You must be frustrated. And you looked so sexy for him too.”

Christine laughed to herself.

“I don’t think he notices any more.”

Misaki looked sad.

“Your hair is lovely, and the dress, and the boots, and the fishnet stockings… “

She laughed: “I’d fancy you.”

Christine casino şirketleri said: “would you?”

Misaki’s look made her catch her breath.

Suddenly Christine felt awkward, she wanted to get up, to run to bed, to be naked, and to touch herself. She swallowed.

“I don’t…. I don’t know if I…”

Misaki said: “I’m sorry, I thought that you were looking for someone to share some space and time with?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“The way you looked at me when we met – I thought you – was I wrong?”

Christine shook her head.

“I didn’t think I was so obvious. I never thought you’d know.”

Misaki said: “it’s OK, whatever happens.”

She lent forward, kissed the older woman’s cheek. As she lent back, Christine said: “no”.

Misaki’s eyes dared the question. Christine reached forward, her lips brushing the Japanese girl’s mouth.

As if in a daze, they kissed very gently, almost chastely, the firelight warming their cheeks. Misaki’s hand traced Christine’s cheek.

Suddenly, Christine jerked back.

“I can’t.”

Misaki took her hand.

“Of course you can. You want to, don’t you? What are you worried about?”

She held Christine’s hand in hers, keeping it warm.

“Why don’t you touch me?”

Christine looked down at her hand. What did the girl mean?

Misaki smiled.

“Like this.”

She took Christine’s hand, lowered it beneath her skirt, and up to the crotch.

Christine thought she was going to explode. Beneath the cotton underwear, she could feel a warm, soft mound.

Misaki closed her eyes.

“Stroke me.”

Christine noticed that her hand wasn’t being held any more. She looked at the girl’s face as she explored the girl’s soft inner thighs and hidden pussy with the palm of her hand, her fingertips.

“That’s nice.”

Christine pushed harder against the underwear, feeling the moist lips beneath the fabric, the firm clitoris.

“Kiss me.”

Despite shaking – whether with cold, fear or lust, she couldn’t tell – Christine lent forward, feeling Misaki’s soft lips part invitingly, the tip of her tongue playing along the edge of her mouth.

Christine could feel Misaki’s pussy growing wetter; the girl reached down, pulling her knickers to one side. Christine felt the naked, almost hairless pussy beneath her hand. She was so wet that she almost couldn’t help sliding a finger between the Japanese girl’s lips, almost shocked with the all-embracing warmth and wetness.

Misaki parted her legs further, encouraging the older woman’s exploration. She took Christine’s face in both hands, kissing her passionately, sucking her tongue and her lips.

She broke off.

“Would you like to eat me?”, Misaki asked innocently.

Christine shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said, feeling miserable.

Misaki looked down at the fire, her hair falling forward. She took Christine’s hand from her pussy, raised it to her mouth, and slowly, deliberately, sucked the woman’s fingers, savouring the taste of her excitement. She straightened the fingers out, wiped the fingertips carefully around her soft, pink lips.

Misaki lent forward, held Christine’s face and kissed her mouth.

Christine thought: “I’m crossing a line, this is too naughty.”

She could smell Misaki’s pussy juice on her mouth. Christine hesitated for a moment, then opened her mouth to the girl’s tongue.

The moment she could taste Misaki’s excitement in her mouth, she knew that she had to go on – she owed it to herself, to her sense of the forbidden but long desired. She could feel her body responding in anticipation of being touched, caressed, brought to a trembling, noisy, exciting orgasm by Misaki’s fingers, her tongue, her mouth.

Misaki broke off.

“I want to be naked in front of you. I want you to look at me.”

She stood. She pulled her hooded top over her head, her thick dark hair spilling over her naked shoulders. Christine looked at her firm young body, feeling suddenly self-conscious of her extra years.

Misaki’s breasts were unsupported, small and pert. Her dark nipples were stiff and unmistakeably excited. Christine reached forward, but the Japanese girl laughed and stepped back.

“Just look for the moment.”

She reached around the back of her skirt, undid a button and sent it tumbling to the floor, and then wriggled out of her panties.

“Do you like?”

Christine looked at the girl. She had an almost boyish figure: a flat stomach, those small breasts, her slim hips. A small tuft of dark pubic hair stood out from her coffee coloured skin.

Misaki turned around. Her buttocks were firm and well-shaped. Christine suppressed a desire to touch them, to kiss them.

She said: “do I like?”

And then closing her eyes: “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Misaki said: “you can kiss my belly, if you want.”

Christine knelt, feeling uncomfortable to still be in her sexiest dress, her nicest lingerie, her long high-heeled boots and those fishnet stockings. Just a couple of hours ago, casino firmaları she had stood in a hotel bedroom, wishing that her husband was undressing her, exploring her body, enjoying her femininity.

Misaki reached forward, held her head and brought it close to her belly. She felt the older woman’s breath on her skin, lips kissing her, her moist tongue licking around her belly button.

Christine felt the hands pushing her head down towards that small patch of pubic hair, she felt it tickle her chin. She let her tongue explore the crease at the top of Misaki’s thigh, tasting the sweat and the scent of excitement.

She thought: “my husband, what would he think?”

With a sudden plunge into new territory, Christine slid her tongue onto the dark pubic hair, and down – feeling the strange new sensation of a firm clitoris on her tongue.

Misaki gasped again, she said something that Christine couldn’t understand, but parted her legs, encouraging the older woman to part her pussy lips with her tongue.

Christine felt her body shake. She gazed up at the Japanese girl’s face looking down at her, with an expression of pure lust on her features.

“Sit on the sofa,” Christine said, feeling for the first time as if she needed to take charge.

Misaki nodded obediently, sitting back in the sofa, spreading her legs wide.

Now that it was fully exposed, she could see the girl’s pussy lips: swollen, wet and excited. She thought: if this was Michael, I’d tease him until he could take no more.

She held her hair back, so she could see the expression on Misaki’s face and kissed her knees, her thighs, her belly, circling the young girl’s pussy, getting closer and closer, as if deliberately ignoring it.

Misaki wriggled and reached to Christine’s head, trying to guide her back to her clit.

Christine shook her head. “No,” she said, “you watch me now.”

Misaki said: “that’s not fair”. But she let her hands drop back to her side.

The older woman let her hair drop now, letting it tickle and stroke the girl’s skin. She moved her head over the girl’s pussy now, her mouth open, knowing that Misaki could feel her warm breath. The pubes scratched her nose, and for a moment Christine worried about smearing her lipstick. She laughed to herself. The very thing to worry about now!

She broke off and sat back on her haunches, wondering whether she should get undressed now, or whether she should try to make Misaki cum…

When she had been younger, she had been promiscuous, slutty – an expert at seducing men, but after ten years of marriage, she had left that behind. She could feel the slut inside her, could sense the power that she still might have over both men and women. They had always wanted her, and it was only her own sense of caution that stopped her from fucking the women.

Except for that one time, when she had got to a certain stage with another girl – another Japanese girl, back in her halls of residence at university – before suddenly fleeing down the corridor, ashamed of both her feelings and her actions. Christine had replayed that night in her mind for years, each time carrying on where she had stopped.

Tonight, her fantasy had crossed that line. She looked up at Misaki, trying to remember what the slut would have done.

Misaki felt worried: Christine was obviously deep in thought. She steeled herself for a matter-of-fact statement that this couldn’t go on. She thought about having to leave the house in the middle of the night, stuffing her things in the back of her car, having to find a hotel to stay in. The wind and the rain whipped against the cottage’s windows.

Misaki raised her legs, spreading them wide, as if doing yoga. She said: “I need you now, and I need to learn about you. Please: let go of your the world for this evening and worry later.”

Christine nodded her head. She understood the sentiment exactly. She owed it to herself, she owed it to the slutty student who had run away from her only lesbian encounter, she needed this experience. She stroked the girl’s thighs with her hands, felt the smooth young skin, and slid them towards Misaki’s wet pussy.

The lips parted easily at the touch of her fingertips, and Christine explored the folds, before sliding a finger – then two – into the girl’s wet cunt. She was wet and warm, her thick, nectar-like juices letting her fingers slide deep inside her.

Misaki groaned loudly. “Taste me,” she grunted.

Christine pulled her fingers out, and copying Misaki’s actions, licked the pussy juice from them, sucking them slowly and deliberately, letting the Japanese girl see every action. She thought: “I’m a cunt tease…”, remembering all those cocks she had touched and tasted, all the times when she had let boys slide their cocks an inch or two inside her, then taking them in her mouth, licking them clean of their excitement mingled with her pussy juice.

“There’s something about pussy juice,” she thought, “something exciting and forbidden.”

She could take no more. Christine lent forward and licked Misaki’s pussy slowly, from the güvenilir casino bottom to the top, feeling the lips part beneath her tongue, sucking the lips into her mouth, pressing against them with her tongue, then finding her stiff little clitoris with her mouth, sucking it, licking it, holding it.

Almost immediately Christine felt Misaki start to orgasm. Her breathing was deep and fast, Christine copied its rhythm with her mouth, allowing Misaki to control the speed.

The Japanese girl writhed beneath her, her hands finding Christine’s dark curly hair, helping her find the rhythm.

Misaki was talking to herself now: in English and in Japanese, “eat me, eat me, eat me, make me cum, make me cum.” And then as her orgasm took hold she jerked so violently she nearly threw Christine’s wet mouth off her pussy, she said: “now miss, now, you’re making cum now, make me cum, miss.”

With one final, obscure scream, she collapsed, panting heavily.

Christine carried on licking her slowly, licking her pussy clean of all the juice. There was so much in her mouth, she had to swallow it down.

Misaki started to laugh with relief, and Christine had to join her.

After a minute, the girl started to look more serious. She looked at Christine’s face.

She said: “you’ve got my pussy juice all over your mouth and your cheeks and your chin.”

Christine pouted: “well you’re the one who got so wet.”

“You made me.”

Misaki lent forward, kissed Christine’s cheek, her chin, her mouth smeared with lipstick and pussy juice.

“Do you want to talk now? Or do you need something else?”

Christine looked at the girl, flushed with her recent orgasm.

Misaki asked: “was that your first time?”

Christine made a face. “Almost. You?”

The girl laughed. “No, years at St Cat’s girl-school… things go on in the dorms…” She added: “that was very nice.”

Christine said: “I’ll think about that for years…”

“…and we haven’t even finished yet,” said Misaki, “I think you need to guide me. Tell me what to do.”

They settled together next to the fire. Christine wrapped her arms around the naked girl and kissed her neck.

“I don’t think I can.”

Misaki turned and kissed the older woman’s mouth.

“I think you know what you want.”

Despite the blazing fire, Christine shivered.

“I’ll try.”

She cleared her throat.

“Misaki, will you take off my dress please?”

The Japanese girl lowered her eyes.

“Of course, miss.”

Christine knelt in front of the fire. She felt the girl behind her lift her hair from the zip, she felt the tug on the fabric, the shoulder straps falling over her arms. They stood up, Christine letting the long black dress fall to the ground. She stepped out of it, towards the fire, taking a deep breath. She stood before the younger girl, still wearing her nicest black lace lingerie, her stockings, her boots.

“Yes miss?”

“I need to relax. Will you touch me?”

Misaki found a cushion on the sofa, laid it on the floor and let Christine lie in front of the fire. The naked girl knelt beside her, stroking Christine’s hair, her neck, her shoulders, around her bra straps, her waist. Christine closed her eyes and felt the hands sweep over her skin. They were travelling down past her waist, to the line of her underwear, her thighs. She parted them to let Misaki’s hands explore between. She felt as though she was purring as Misaki’s fingertips stroked between her legs, Christine could feel her pussy grow wet with the sensation.

“Miss is beautiful.”

“Miss needs you,” replied Christine. She felt the waistband of her knickers being lifted, Misaki’s hand sliding towards her pussy. Her fingers led the way, feeling for her clitoris, her lips. She reached out, feeling Misaki’s thighs beside her, she felt them part, and Christine felt her way to the Japanese’s girl’s pussy, still warm and wet.

Christine arched her back.

“Take them off.”

Misaki rolled the underwear off Christine’s raised hips, over her thighs and down over her stockings and boots.

“Miss is completely smooth.”

Christine said: “my husband’s leaving present.”

She felt sad for a moment.

“He never knew.”

“Miss looks like a beautiful peach.”

“I’m glad you think so Misaki. Would you like a peach?”

Misaki nodded.

“Yes please, miss.”

Christine laughed.

“In the bowl on the table.”

Misaki looked confused.

“It’s a joke, Misaki. But if you want a peach, that’s where they are.”

The girl’s dark eyes glittered. She got up, went to the table and took a peach. Walking back, she looked down at the older woman lying on the floor in front of her. Misaki balanced the peach on Christine’s stomach. She touched it, and then slid her finger between Christine’s pussy lips.

“A peach, or a peach…”

She licked the tip of her finger, as if lost in thought.

“…perhaps both?”

Misaki picked up the peach, dug her fingers into the soft flesh and peeled off a chunk. She lifted it to her mouth, as if to bite it, then changed her mind, lowered it to Christine’s hairless pussy, and wiped it over her skin, parting her wet lips. Now she raised it to her mouth, and bit a piece off. She looked beneath her fringe at Christine as she ate it.

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