Message-ID: <1796eli$9706291355@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: an338903@cris.com (Jackie) Subject: REPOST: Dueling Clits -- Part 1/3b (mast, f/f, lingerie) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: >>> REPOST: "Dueling Clits" Part 1/? (mast, f/f, lingerie) This story-series contains graphic descriptions of sole female masturbation, strip-teasing in lingerie, and female-female loving. If you are: a) Under 18 years old b) Offended by any of those graphic actions c) Feel these are against your Community Standards Please STOP reading and IMMEDIATELY LEAVE and CLOSE this file !!!!! =============================================== Hi, again, I hope you enjoy reading them. Any comments, pats on the back, or criticisms will be *gratefully* accepted. Flames will be totally ignored. Thanks. Jackie =============================================== Dueling Clits ~~ Part 1 (Copyright 1995) by Jackie ( an338903@anon.penet.fi) I was about twenty years old before I realized that my clitty was so unusual. I mean, how many girls get each other *very* excited to see "how big" their clits get ?? Guys, may do that with their cocks, but none of *my* girl friends did it with their clits *when* I was growing up. I then found mine could grow, poking out a good inch, BUT I have to be *super* excited for it to stick out that far, looking just like a miniature cock, and feeling pretty hard. Ever since I realized mine was different than most girls, I figured there were other girls or women just like me, or maybe even *bigger*. I would always discretely "check out" other girls/women whenever they were naked, e.g.: beach or gym changing rooms, college communal showers, or even girls on my college swim and soccer teams. (I guess it's like guys checking out other guys' cocks, but not nearly as much fun. Theirs sprout much easier than ours.) The key is to find one that juts out from its hood like a *really* plump over-grown corn niblet when it's *asleep*, then watch how it mushrooms when passionately licked and nibbled. With older girls/women, it's harder to discretely peek because their dense growth of curly, fluffy pubic hair usually hides a clitty that's even slightly longer in its sleeping state. I've only ever found one other girl/woman with a clit almost as long and fat, but have heard of other women with clits up to two inches. When I was a senior in college (I won't say how long ago, but it was before AIDS became a major problem), I became *very* friendly with a girl, Valerie, who had a long and fat clitty. She was a slim girl with muscular arms and legs, long brown hair, hazel eyes, and a very seductive perky smile. Here's the story: Coincidentally, we both were on the college swim team. One day in the open-bay communal pool showers, I noticed that *her* plump niblet was standing proud, well outside its fleshy hood, much, much further than most other girls, or should I say, women. I might not have detected it if she had a huge forest of brown curls, but she kept her whole plump mound completely clean-shaven. (Maybe, she felt it made her more aerodynamic in the water. It *certainly* made her more aerodynamic to my tongue, but I'm getting ahead of myself.) Her clean-shaven mound greatly accented both her pouty pink pussy lips and that fat poking-out niblet. After that fateful discovery, I made sure I was using the very next shower-head whenever the team hit the showers. Valerie seemed proud of her sleek body as she didn't wear a towel when entering or leaving the showers. Luckily, we both liked taking long soothing showers, so we were usually the last ones done. When all the other girls had left, I could more openly, yet still discretely, watch her soaping her young firm body. At times like that, I must shamefully admit feeling like a traitor to my gender, acting out the trait of guys that I dislike most ~~ being controlled by that "stick" (although mine is much smaller) between our legs. Over time, I learned that Valerie had more good points than just a potentially large clit. My heart confirmed that I was attracted to her for more than just her fine body, but that didn't diminish the effect her physical attractiveness had on me. I intently studied her during swim practices, her lith body parting the water, muscles straining as she glides faster and faster. On her U-turns, that sensuous body became "one" with her thin tight swimsuit, like a second very translucent skin ~~ every bump, valley, and wrinkle, including her niblet, became completely visible. As much as that image excited me, I still loved her best, naked in the shower as drops of water cascaded over her whole luxurious body. Even when not nearby, Valerie (or, at first, select parts of her body) was now always on my mind. After a few weeks of constant erotic torture, I began to fantasize that it was *me* soaping her solid wet body in that shower. I face her, my warm hands cupping her round buoyant breasts; the ridges of both palms surfing over her long hard pink nipples; and finally, my long thin fingers dipping between those puffy pussy lips, repetitively rubbing, making sure both were absolutely, positively squeaky clean. Without a word, our wet bodies are slowly drawn toward each other into a loving embrace. *We* are now "connected," our locked eyes speak volumes, our touching flesh telegraphs tingles, and our mashed lips transmit both warmth and desire ~~ a dance of passion and of sharing. Our pussys and legs intertwine, rubbing one on the other, slowly at first, then ever more frantic as our passions build. Abruptly, I stop and step back, surveying the pleading look on her pouting face. My slippery wet body glides around her, then attacks from behind. My large glistening breasts are now squashed against her slick back, my curly blond bush is rubbing its hot female dew against her firm round cheeks, and my firm engorged clit is now nestled in the narrow crack of her firm tight buns. Reaching around her, my magical fingers very lightly rub rich sudsy lather over and over her elongated clitty's sensitive pink crown, while I hotly kiss and nibble her shining neck and shoulders. Her legs and thighs part even wider, flaring those puffy outer lips, allowing me to do a much more thorough job. Her head arches back, resting on my shoulder, with her mouth partly open, gasping heavily, but otherwise not making a sound. (It appears she's not a loud "moaner."). Her hands reach behind and clutch my firm buns, pulling me even tighter against her. This causes my pendulous breasts to slide outwards, outside our bodies' edges from our sandwiched force, like jelly oozing out between two tightly squashed slices of bread. Finally, she relaxes both cheeks making that narrow crack grow much, much wider, as those fleshy buns are forced outward again by our sandwiched pressure. If my clitty was only an inch longer, I could now easily slip it up her puckered rosette-shaped hole, like a long skinny cock, making her thrash even more with unbridled pleasure. Making a "V" from two fingers, I gently rub more warm soapy lather up and down her clitty's long thick stem, as if "jerking off" her narrow stubby cock. Each tender stroke makes it wildly jump and jerk. Valerie now seems perplexed ~~ she doesn't know whether to arch forward, squeezed tighter against that mischievous hand, or press back, firmly clutching my long wiggly snake between her buns. Her dilemma is left unanswered as an ever louder chorus of "oooooohs" and "aaaaaahs," escapes through tightly pursed lips, as all her muscles tense and she rises toward an explosive finale. Feeling her impending climax, I massage that naughty thrashing clitty just a little bit harder, while lightly biting back and forth across her twitching wet shoulders. Suddenly, her body bucks and jerks in my arms, causing me to leave a red welt on her left shoulder, while she grips my buns ever so tightly. Holding her slippery body very snug so she doesn't fall, my hot moist palms let those rock-hard nipples peek out through grasping fingers until her violent gyrations slowly subside. As her senses return and she regains her balance, I slowly and lovingly back away, a broad smile on my face and the fingernail gouges from her pleasure on my buns. Her satisfied, glowing body now needs another warm soothing shower that I will let her take alone. Returning from my fantasy, I remind myself why I have so envied her compact, half-moon youthful breasts. They were just so, so .... perfect. (She was only two years my junior, but looked much, much younger.) Most of her breast flesh was a dark tan but around each dark nipple was a small creamy-white triangle where her tiny bikini top had just covered it. Standing back, each hovering breast looked like a puzzle ~~ a dark pink circle in the center of a white triangle in the center of a tan circle. Sadly, geometry had no name for my breasts. They were a full D-cup since fourteen, forcing me to strap them in each morning in a tight underwire bra for support. Even before they ballooned to their current large cup size, they would noticeably sag. Now, they definitely hang down, like two large udders. My last blouse was a 36L ("L" was for "long bust"). Although, their fullness bothers my back from time to time, my one and only consolation is that guys (and most gals) have *never* complained about their size or shape. They attack them like suckling calves. My other problem is that between my blond hair and those balloons, most guys believe that *all* my brain cells were used to create my breasts leaving my head empty. They soon find out that they are mistaken. *Her* B-cup breasts though, float as if suspended in mid-air, hardly even jiggling. She had no need for any support. Her dark pink nipples were perfectly centered, always spiking out, *very* prominent. Although I had never seen her braless when dressed, in a tight white silky tee-shirt and *no* bra, she would cause even a stone statue to jut out hard. That semi-transparent tee would cling to her luscious body like a second skin. Only slightly drooling, I can clearly see her dark pencil-eraser size nipples vividly poking through, rising and falling ever so little, in perfect rhythm with her breathing. Even if threatened with obscene torture, I could *not* tell you if she was smiling or wearing a skirt ~~ my eyes were glued elsewhere (damn, that's my female testosterone again). If she ever arched her back, those stiff fat nubs would blatantly thrust right through, causing me to either faint from excitement, or attack that tight tee-shirt with a vengeance. After closely watching her shower for many agonizing days, I concluded that she spent more time soaping those puffy pussy lips than any other part of her young firm body. Every time she showered, she soaped and rinsed them at least three or four times. Sometimes her hand scrubbed lingeringly slow, other times blazingly fast with her hazel eyes tightly closed, cute face now all scrunched up, and firmly biting her lower lip. In hindsight, she probably climaxed as I remember her slightly shaking, her chest all pink, before quickly leaving with a flushed face. Once, while her eyes were tightly closed and her hand feverishly soaping each now-imaginary brown curl, I quietly dropped my soap near her feet. Slowly and silently, I crouched down next to her, my hand out-stretched to pick it up, but only waiting and watching. My face was only inches from that whirring wet hand. I inhaled whiffs of her pungent female aroma mixed with a "mountain fresh" soap scent, becoming more light headed with desire. I thought for sure she would swiftly notice my closeness, but she was floating in her own sweet world. This angle gave me a perfect view of her plump clean-shaven pussy being parted and stroked by that devilish hand. I could vividly see her outer lips flaring from those tender fingers; her clitty stretching out further, like an awakening snake, as those fingers "accidentally" rubbed against it; and finally see one or two gooey fingers dip into her heated love tunnel. I was so close I could even hear the squishing as her knuckles disappeared from sight. I became hypnotized, my eyes glued to that blurring hand, now knowing the intense arousal a voyeur feels. I wanted soooo much to stick out my long fat tongue, licking her hot gushing juices as they dripped from her pink lips, but that would have broken her magical spell, and embarrassed *me* too much. I just adored how her puffy pink lips flared, like blooming petals on a tulip. At night, I constantly dreamed about softly parting them with my stiff athletic tongue, then firmly licking her inner lips up and down, darting that stiffness in and out, over and over, like a snake on a heated hunt. I would let that long slender squirming tongue deeply investigate her hot wet love tunnel, and even let it tickle her navel ~~ from the inside!! (Unfortunately, in those days, I was extremely shy. Even though I could vividly fantasize about her and my affection continuously grew, I found it very hard to openly express my feelings to her. I always stayed silent and just peeked.) This time though, her fat red clitty was sticking out over half an inch, much more than usual, about as thick around as my little pinky. *I* had to be very careful not to get too aroused myself, or *my* monstrous clitty would also jut out, quickly giving my desire away. It was a shame, they could not duel together, like miniature swords, while our breasts, bellies, and pussys just caressed each other, slowly melding together. As soon as I saw her arch up on her toes, I bolted upright, not wanting to be caught crouching down so very close. Almost immediately, her sleek body tensed up even more, her pussy ballooned out further, gobbling up more of that stroking hand. It so wantonly ground her lips and huge clit against that wiggling wrist, trying to reach that magical high. Suddenly, her sweating body twitched two or three times, as if convulsing, and her chest flushed, while a low guttural moan escaped her parted lips, muffled slightly by the spray's loud noise. Seeing her climax so hard, I almost reached out to steady her, but stopped myself, as I didn't want her to know I'd seen. I spun around with my back towards her, and continued rinsing. By the time I turned around again, she was gone. Etched in memory forever, as if by a hot branding iron, is the erotic image of her firm wet body glistening under those shower lights, so pure and shiny clean, except for a trail of hot sweet nectar running down her still-twitching thighs. I can vividly see the last drops of water hanging from each hard outstretched nipple, patiently waiting to fall, while other drops of sticky sweet dew hang from where her pussy lips have so grotesquely twisted and stuck together. Since those days, I have seen many young hot wet bodies, some even more sensuous, but there was just something about her fulfilled wet glistening image that I will never forget. My favorite fantasy of her is still vivid in my memory. There, she has given me permission to be her soft gentle body-towel. I begin kissing and licking, er, drying, her warm wet sensuous body at her nose, spiraling lower and lower, not stopping until I have completely dried each of her ten toes. She *forces* her body-slave to: bathe her neck and ears with my hot tongue, making soft, then louder coos and moans rise from her throat; suck every molecule of moisture from both protruding pink breast nubs, making her shiver and shake from forbidden desires; swirl my warm wide tongue in ever narrower spirals on her taut stomach, finally dipping it deep into her navel, making her knees open wide with joy; then feast on both now low-hanging pussy lips until they are so red and puffy, almost totally dry (if that is ever possible), finally bringing her to a bucking, thrashing, fireworks- popping climax. Not allowing her weary body any respite, I continue to feverishly kiss and nibble down her still-trembling thighs and legs, ever teasing, making every ounce of her total being beg for more. Mini- cannons shoot off, bringing her closer and closer to a second grand-finale. Finally, I wetly and vigorously mouth each neatly manicured toe, like a mini-cock, trying to make each one cum. I suck hard on them, making slurping sounds, letting my tongue's firm tip caress them as they slide in and out my hot wet mouth. This is causing her to again quiver and shake, then her sweet pussy convulses, gushing out more hot sweet nectar, her body jerking and bending, her head thrashing from side to side, until those glorious rippling sensations subside. It might take days, or even weeks, and she still might not be totally dry when I finish, but I'm sure every cell in her body will feel absolutely satisfied, yet totally exhausted !! For now, with a gentle kiss on each still-pulsating nipple, I quietly slink away as satisfied as her, even though I never climaxed. During our shower one day, Valerie softly asks me to soap her muscular yet sleek back. She says she pulled a shoulder muscle while swimming. Her request gives my whole body goosebumps, my face brightly blushes, but then looking at the shower room floor, I mumble "No" and a "stupid" excuse. You must understand that my whole being would have *loved* to do it, but *my* hands soaping (spelled "caressing") *even* her back's firm tan flesh would have been just *too* much for me. I feared I would lose my self-control and start actively soaping her body in areas where she didn't want me to, maybe even rubbing my slick soapy body lovingly against hers. After my negative reply, Valerie quickly left the shower as though embarrassed. I stayed behind, immediately regretting my words, and now *really* all alone. Just thinking about "what might have happened" really aroused me. Closing my eyes, my face still in a pout, I found the soapy palms and firm fingers of both hands lightly kneading my large hanging udders with their rock-hard rubbery nubs. Soon, with a will all their own, they began lifting and squeezing those huge jugs in a much rougher, more vigorous manner. Maybe, I was punishing my body for saying "No" to sweet, lovely Valerie. My hands would shove my breasts together, then roll them around, the silky soap suds acting as a very slick lubricant. Then, they violently tug on my long hard nipples trying to stretch them into tomorrow. The more I mashed, tugged, and rolled them, the more rough attention my breasts desired. This "punishment" had now blossomed into pleasure. My breathing became quicker and more ragged, my body bucked slightly in anticipation. I hesitated, looking around quickly to make sure no one else was there. Satisfied, I slid one hand through my wet blond pubic curls, down between my hot creamy thighs, finally, roughly rubbing my pouting pussy lips with "V'd" fingers. "Ohhhhh ..... yessssss," *this* was just what my enflame body soooo desired. Squatting down with my knees spread wide, my puffy pussy fully flares and heated love tunnel opens, allowing even greater entry for those stiff magical fingers. Soon, not only one, but two, then three long rigid fingers were pumping in and out of my sopping hot tunnel, plunging with all their might to push me over that marvelous crest. My love tunnel muscles gripped those sticky fingers, exacting as many sensations as possible while they pistoned relentlessly in and out. My other hand was still roughly tugging on my hard, rubbery nipples, alternating between those two tortured sore nubs. Lifting my hanging right breast to my soft moist mouth, allowed me to vigorously suckle on that wanton, very needy nipple. My hot wet breath soothed the hurt some, while that vicious hand went back to pulling and tugging on my left nipple. My cloudy brain and swirling senses were overwhelmed, receiving indescribable sensations from all three areas of my trembling body at once. Without even touching my now-obscenely bobbing clitty, my climax continued building to a well-deserved peak. I cried out, "Oh God, right there" to that empty shower room. Suddenly, my pussy lips started contracting and my stomach began churning. "Yeeesss, that's it, juuusst a little moorree." I felt a dull ache growing inside my body. A flood of female "honey" began gushing down onto that pistoning hand. Instantly, *every* cell began screaming causing my whole body to jerk and thrash, at odds with my head flailing from side to side. Wildly twitching, I lost my balance and slipped to the floor, luckily, only bouncing on my buns. I must have laid there for two or three minutes, a totally satisfied, still twitching, lump of cells and nerves. Finally, regaining my senses, I slowly staggered to my feet. My legs were very weak both from squatting and the earth-shattering climax. My body so needed another warm soapy soothing shower. After that, still satisfied, I dried myself off and went into the changing room to get dressed. 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