Girlfic part 2!
Jul. 8th, 2002 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321Here is Part 2 of my girlfic.
Title: At About Six O'Clock
Part: 2/2
She lifted her face and looked at Miranda.
Miranda looked completely debauched. As far as it was possible for someone so sweet to look debauched. Her head had fallen back against the armchair, exposing the white underside of her chin and curve of her throat, one strand of hair across her mouth, beads of sweat pooling at the point of the V, between her breasts.
Liv found that somehow she couldn't help herself, and who the fuck cared by now, anyway, this was way beyond caring, so Liv crawled up Miranda's body, licking up the sweat on her skin on her way, wanting to move further up, to let Miranda savour her own come-taste from Liv's mouth, but she never got that far because she was sidetracked by Miranda's breasts.
And what with the fug she was in already and still feeling hot as hell between her legs, Liv pulled down the T-shirt on one side, wonderfully elastic, wonderfully flimsy, and there was no bra underneath it, just Miranda's gorgeous, white orb of a breast. "Mmmm," Liv said, quite involuntarily, and closed her mouth around Miranda's pink, hard nipple. She kept her lips tightly wrapped around it, swirling her tongue around the tip of the nipple, getting lost again in the contrast of soft malleable skin of Miranda's breast, soft and smooth as a balloon filled with water, and the hard puckered tower of Miranda's nipple.
There were more wordless gasps, and this time Liv didn't know who was making them, Miranda or herself. Anyway, that was another thing that didn't matter anymore, like so many other things, like glass in one's knees or cunt in one's mouth or decorum or girlyness or any fucking thing. All that mattered now... and yes, Miranda seemed to have the same idea, exactly the same idea, judging from the way her fingers were tugging at Liv's pants. Liv lifted up obligingly, mouth still on Miranda's breast, and Miranda pulled the pants right off, they were bunched around Liv's feet, in with the splinters and the vodka, and air brushed against parts that had up to now been confined.
That alone, that tiny contact of air, was enough to make Liv shiver.
"Are you," gasped Miranda who seemed to have found her voice after having lost it somewhere down a volcano, "still hot?"
Liv could only nod and say, "Mmm", one hand on Miranda's other breast, the other on Miranda's left buttock.
Miranda twisted out of the way somewhere, Liv felt a momentary stab of loss but then she was back, very close, breathing against Liv's neck, and Liv felt Miranda's fingers against her pubic hair, and further down, and fuck, Miranda's fingers were icy cold.
Liv cried out in shock, and then cried out again, as something so freezing it burned her insides was pushed up her pussy.
Fuck. Another ice cube.
God. This time she really did think she would faint. She stopped sucking at Miranda's nipple, her head fell forward, her mouth opened in soundless supplication, lights flashed behind her eyelids.
Funny that something so cold should feel as if it were boiling her from inside. As if the senses couldn't quite process it, as if they just registered extremes of spectrum where hot and cold melted into each other and there was no difference. Her innards seized up, frozen and cindered at the same time, and something else was happening down there as well, oh god, it was Miranda's fingers on her clit. Or somewhere. Doing something. Rubbing something over her, Miranda dipping her finger into Liv's pussy and fishing out moisture and rubbing that all over her clit and the hood of her clit and her pubic bone as well, rubbing hard, until Liv wanted to scream with pleasure and torment all at once.
But she didn't scream, she couldn't, her throat was parched again, parched and constricted, and the only sounds she could make were small gargling noises.
How long this went on, Liv couldn't be sure. It felt like a long, long time, and yet could only have been as long as it takes an ice cube to melt inside a human body. An ice cube, surrounded by 37.8 degrees centigrade of hot blood and hot flesh. Because melt it did. The numbness seeped from Liv's insides; it felt as if the ice cube itself was heating up, a physical improbability but sensually somehow entirely convincing, hot ice cube shoved up her, hotcold fingers rubbing her clit, and then she came.
Fuck, god, what an orgasm.
It started small, almost shyly, in her clit, small pulsating sensations, sweet like refined sugar, almost unbearably fine. Then it spread, like a tidal wave, into her insides, into her very belly, and there it became deep, moaningly deep, convulsively and almost violently strong, so that Liv reared up against Miranda and clutched at Miranda's shoulders and bit her neck and thought this would never stop, she would just be borne on this wave of oblivion until her death. Which, no doubt, would be soon because how could anyone bear this for long?
After all of that subsided, that earthquake or orgasm or whatever it was, Liv just let herself sink into the softness of Miranda. Slowly, she felt the outside world returning through her ears -- the hotel fridge humming, Miranda's heart -- and the saliva returning to her mouth. She became aware of the sweat under her arms and the slickness between her legs. She swallowed, keeping her face hidden between Miranda's breasts.
Miranda shifted underneath her. Liv broke away. She didn't look up at first, moved her eyes around from the floor to her hands, but finally dared to gaze into Miranda's eyes. Cool-blue irises laughed at her. Liv smiled.
Miranda brushed her lips against Liv's in the softest of kisses.
"That was better than the bum-pinching dickhead, wasn't it?" she said, the corners of her eyes twinkling.
"Yeah," Liv agreed, still somewhat breathless. "Better than the clueless guys on our set, too."
"We don't need them, I don't think," said Miranda. "And now that we've broken the ice, so to speak..."
Liv burst out laughing. She couldn't help it, release and delight making her shake.
Miranda gave a laugh of her own.
"Well, you know, now that we've been there and done that," she continued, "we probably won't even need the vodka, eh?"
Liv, smiling, put both her hands back on Miranda's breasts.
"Yeah," she murmured, "but can we do without the ice?"
--------------
The End.
If you liked this story, please send feedback to lobelia321@aol.com
1 July 2002
Title: At About Six O'Clock
Part: 2/2
She lifted her face and looked at Miranda.
Miranda looked completely debauched. As far as it was possible for someone so sweet to look debauched. Her head had fallen back against the armchair, exposing the white underside of her chin and curve of her throat, one strand of hair across her mouth, beads of sweat pooling at the point of the V, between her breasts.
Liv found that somehow she couldn't help herself, and who the fuck cared by now, anyway, this was way beyond caring, so Liv crawled up Miranda's body, licking up the sweat on her skin on her way, wanting to move further up, to let Miranda savour her own come-taste from Liv's mouth, but she never got that far because she was sidetracked by Miranda's breasts.
And what with the fug she was in already and still feeling hot as hell between her legs, Liv pulled down the T-shirt on one side, wonderfully elastic, wonderfully flimsy, and there was no bra underneath it, just Miranda's gorgeous, white orb of a breast. "Mmmm," Liv said, quite involuntarily, and closed her mouth around Miranda's pink, hard nipple. She kept her lips tightly wrapped around it, swirling her tongue around the tip of the nipple, getting lost again in the contrast of soft malleable skin of Miranda's breast, soft and smooth as a balloon filled with water, and the hard puckered tower of Miranda's nipple.
There were more wordless gasps, and this time Liv didn't know who was making them, Miranda or herself. Anyway, that was another thing that didn't matter anymore, like so many other things, like glass in one's knees or cunt in one's mouth or decorum or girlyness or any fucking thing. All that mattered now... and yes, Miranda seemed to have the same idea, exactly the same idea, judging from the way her fingers were tugging at Liv's pants. Liv lifted up obligingly, mouth still on Miranda's breast, and Miranda pulled the pants right off, they were bunched around Liv's feet, in with the splinters and the vodka, and air brushed against parts that had up to now been confined.
That alone, that tiny contact of air, was enough to make Liv shiver.
"Are you," gasped Miranda who seemed to have found her voice after having lost it somewhere down a volcano, "still hot?"
Liv could only nod and say, "Mmm", one hand on Miranda's other breast, the other on Miranda's left buttock.
Miranda twisted out of the way somewhere, Liv felt a momentary stab of loss but then she was back, very close, breathing against Liv's neck, and Liv felt Miranda's fingers against her pubic hair, and further down, and fuck, Miranda's fingers were icy cold.
Liv cried out in shock, and then cried out again, as something so freezing it burned her insides was pushed up her pussy.
Fuck. Another ice cube.
God. This time she really did think she would faint. She stopped sucking at Miranda's nipple, her head fell forward, her mouth opened in soundless supplication, lights flashed behind her eyelids.
Funny that something so cold should feel as if it were boiling her from inside. As if the senses couldn't quite process it, as if they just registered extremes of spectrum where hot and cold melted into each other and there was no difference. Her innards seized up, frozen and cindered at the same time, and something else was happening down there as well, oh god, it was Miranda's fingers on her clit. Or somewhere. Doing something. Rubbing something over her, Miranda dipping her finger into Liv's pussy and fishing out moisture and rubbing that all over her clit and the hood of her clit and her pubic bone as well, rubbing hard, until Liv wanted to scream with pleasure and torment all at once.
But she didn't scream, she couldn't, her throat was parched again, parched and constricted, and the only sounds she could make were small gargling noises.
How long this went on, Liv couldn't be sure. It felt like a long, long time, and yet could only have been as long as it takes an ice cube to melt inside a human body. An ice cube, surrounded by 37.8 degrees centigrade of hot blood and hot flesh. Because melt it did. The numbness seeped from Liv's insides; it felt as if the ice cube itself was heating up, a physical improbability but sensually somehow entirely convincing, hot ice cube shoved up her, hotcold fingers rubbing her clit, and then she came.
Fuck, god, what an orgasm.
It started small, almost shyly, in her clit, small pulsating sensations, sweet like refined sugar, almost unbearably fine. Then it spread, like a tidal wave, into her insides, into her very belly, and there it became deep, moaningly deep, convulsively and almost violently strong, so that Liv reared up against Miranda and clutched at Miranda's shoulders and bit her neck and thought this would never stop, she would just be borne on this wave of oblivion until her death. Which, no doubt, would be soon because how could anyone bear this for long?
After all of that subsided, that earthquake or orgasm or whatever it was, Liv just let herself sink into the softness of Miranda. Slowly, she felt the outside world returning through her ears -- the hotel fridge humming, Miranda's heart -- and the saliva returning to her mouth. She became aware of the sweat under her arms and the slickness between her legs. She swallowed, keeping her face hidden between Miranda's breasts.
Miranda shifted underneath her. Liv broke away. She didn't look up at first, moved her eyes around from the floor to her hands, but finally dared to gaze into Miranda's eyes. Cool-blue irises laughed at her. Liv smiled.
Miranda brushed her lips against Liv's in the softest of kisses.
"That was better than the bum-pinching dickhead, wasn't it?" she said, the corners of her eyes twinkling.
"Yeah," Liv agreed, still somewhat breathless. "Better than the clueless guys on our set, too."
"We don't need them, I don't think," said Miranda. "And now that we've broken the ice, so to speak..."
Liv burst out laughing. She couldn't help it, release and delight making her shake.
Miranda gave a laugh of her own.
"Well, you know, now that we've been there and done that," she continued, "we probably won't even need the vodka, eh?"
Liv, smiling, put both her hands back on Miranda's breasts.
"Yeah," she murmured, "but can we do without the ice?"
--------------
The End.
If you liked this story, please send feedback to lobelia321@aol.com
1 July 2002
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2002-07-08 07:28 am (UTC)That was way dirtier than mine; I am most impressed and amazed by all of it!
"nobody really cares about us lot. Those boys are all too busy with each other."
Heh. See, this is why the girls deserve to be written about. They need their fun. And it's such nice, soft, fun. With breasts...
I liked the almost-kiss at the start, and, my, Miranda is a fast worker, isn't she? And all the business with the underwear, now that's something you don't get with the boys - such a nice sense of anticipation, what lies beneath...
There are some lovely images here:
"a hot chaos of sensation."
"like nubbed squid legs" (this is one of those things that I know is going to stay with me for a long time.)
and of course the whole hot/cold, wet/dry contrasts are nice too. And the ice. Well. Yes.
I am becoming a firm fan of girlsmut, it's so different, dirty but tender; anyway, there should be more. I'll probably go on about this more another time :)
(no subject)
Date: 2002-07-08 12:17 pm (UTC)For now, just know that I love you for this! You might have even (might, maybe) have redeemed yourself for going over to the Viggo-side. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2002-07-10 09:28 am (UTC)Re awe
Date: 2002-07-11 03:59 pm (UTC)