I don't suppose that I've ever spent a happier two days than that weekend with Katrina in the mountains. After sucking each other's cunts the first night, we awoke the next morning in each other's arms. At first I was surprised to realize where I was, that it all wasn't a dream as I became aware that we were in bed together and that I was locked in a naked embrace with another woman. However, I never felt any shock, or shame, or regret, and certainly didn't wish I were any place else. I was grateful that it wasn't a dream.
"Good morning, darling," Katrina said, her eyes opening sleepily.
"Good morning," I replied, tightening my arms affectionately around her and gently inserting my knee in her crotch. I could feel her silky cunt bush tickling my kneecap as I moved slightly and kissed Katrina fully on the lips.
One thing quickly led to another and before I knew it we were making love again, only this time I was on top, using all the tricks I had learned the night before as we rubbed, tickled, licked, and sucked each other to a series of multiple orgasms. I realized that the marijuana had had nothing to do with the pleasure I had felt the first time because the pleasure was even sweeter in the morning with a clear head.
When we were finished and lay in bed side by side catching our breath, Katrina said, "Why don't you take it easy and I'll rustle us up some breakfast."
"Okay," I agreed. "I think I'll take a hot bath while you're fixing breakfast."
She got out of bed and put on a red checkered flannel shirt and started to button it over her small but exquisite tits. "Don't do that, darling," I implored. "I want to see your body the whole time we have alone together."
"All right," she laughed, dropping the shirt to the floor. Then she walked over to where I was still lying and leaned down and kissed me gently. "But you have to promise not to take that bath. I want to smell our love on you."
We had a glorious day, just relaxing and not doing anything in particular, completely caught up in the rapture of being with each other. We took a walk in the forest, picking wild flowers along the way, and holding hands as we walked, naked, through the huge trees.
After walking for some time we came to a bubbling mountain stream. "Let's take a rest," I suggested.
Katrina agreed and we sat down beneath a tree. After we had been sitting there for a moment she said, "Darling, I want to make love to you, right out in the open for the world to see."
I immediately agreed. Since we had first made love I found that my sexual urge was always near the surface when I was with Katrina. I didn't see how I could ever tire of making love with her.
Katrina spread me out beneath the majestic tree and I focused my eyes on its swooping branches and the blue sky above as she went down an me. This time I did nothing, just lay there as she sucked and tongue-fucked me to a delicious climax which left her face glistening with my cunt juice.
When she was finished she leaned over to her right and picked a beautiful yellow flower and placed it tenderly between the lips of my cunt, gently kissing my clitoris before she pulled her head up and looked lovingly at me. "That honeysuckle is you," she said, "it's how I think of you. Beautiful and graceful with your lovely blonde hair. That's what I'm going to call you from now on. Honeysuckle. Because you're as graceful and lovely as a yellow flower, and because when I suck your cunt I taste honey." The sheer romantic tenderness of what she had done caused me to experience another orgasm through mere words.
That evening Katrina and I were back in the cabin and preparing dinner when I said, "Do you mind If I ask you something?"
"Of course not," she said.
"Promise you won't get mad," I said hesitantly.
"Not at you, Honeysuckle, never," she promised.
"Well, uh," I hemmed and hawed, "I always thought when two girls made love that one of them used, you know, a rubber cock."
She laughed. "Oh, you mean a dildo. Some do, but only those who are inexperienced or confused. Sex between two women is so beautiful and so much more satisfying than ordinary sex that there's no reason to try and imitate a man with one of those things. Anything a man's got, a woman doesn't need, so why try and impersonate one? All a dildo does is bring you down to the level of a man."
After dinner, with the fire roaring again, we once again found ourselves unable to keep our hands and mouths off each other. In the middle of loving caresses and passionate groping, Katrina suddenly suggested we shave our cunts. "Wait till you experience the sensation of my tongue without any hair to get in its way," she said.
"What a fascinating idea," I had to agree. Also, my feminine curiosity was stimulated because although I was a woman I had never really been aware of what a cunt looked like until my affair with Katrina. Now, of course, I was fascinated by them. With the hair gone I would be able to fully explore to my heart's content the full anatomy of a cunt, and the idea thrilled me immensely, as Katrina quickly noticed when she was lathering my bush.
"If you keep this up," she laughed, "I won't have to use any lather! I can shave you in your own juice.
The strokes of the razor sent a feeling of delicious friction pulsating through my loins as Katrina carefully shaved off every hair. When she finished and I looked down at my cunt, I was amazed that it was such a fully formed mound, that it seemed to have at least as much definition and character as the male organ. I was proud to be a woman, and glad I had a cunt rather than a cock.
"Now you shave me," said Katrina, which I immediately did. I lathered her up, taking great precaution to get the foam in just the right places, leaving her cuntlips and slit uncovered in their pink and glistening glory.
After I was finished, Katrina said, "Come on, let's go to the mirror." There was a floor-length mirror on the other side of the room, and following Katrina's lead I went over to it and sat alongside her in front of the mirror, spreading my legs as she did. The mirror revealed two fantastically beautiful cunts staring at us, with every feature of them in crystal clarity, including the sparkling drops of girl Juice that were oozing out of each.
"And now, Honeysuckle," Katrina said, calling me by my new name, "you keep your eyes on the mirror and watch while II give you an absolutely unforgettable finger-fuck."
What a joy it was to watch her experienced fingers probe every nook and cranny of my cunt in full view. The fact that I was watching everything made it all the more stimulating. Even the pink nub of my clitoris was clearly apparent in the mirror as Katrina rubbed and twitted it, sending me into gales of delight. As I came, with my eyes riveted to the mirror watching my hairless cunt virtually breathing as Katrina expertly finger fucked it to glory, I couldn't help but thinking, how can there be any other way?
All too soon our weekend was over. I felt a touch of real sadness as we put on our clothes, the act signifying that our idyll was over and that we had to return to the real world of work and frustrations. Without being able to help myself, I started to sob.
"What's wrong, Honeysuckle?" Katrina asked gently.
"It's just that it's all been so wonderful," I said through my tears. I guess I don't want to go back and face everyday life.''
"I know, Honeysuckle," she said, kissing away my tears, "that boring job at the warehouse, smog, traffic, and men. But just remember, we'll still be together, and there'll be other weekends for as long as you like."
With Katrina's kind words, the unpleasant images of my life back in the city faded before the picture of her strong, loving body, and the memory of her sweet sticky cunt in my face and her lips and tongue on mine, and I knew that I could go on. She kissed me tenderly on the lips, and as I returned the kiss I knew that everything was going to be all right.
The road back from the cabin to the main highway was about thirty miles long and full of curves. After about ten miles the sky suddenly became filled with dark clouds. Soon after Katrina observed, "It looks like rain," the water began to come down in sheets.
"Maybe we ought to pull over," I suggested as large rain drops furiously pelted her little Volkswagen.
"No, that's all right," she said. "I've been over this road enough times to be familiar with it. We'll be all right," and she looked, over at the radio dial and began tuning it with one hand while steering the car with other.
I guess Katrina was looking at the radio dial as we entered the curve and never saw the logging truck that came steaming around the corner toward us out of the rainy mist. The last thing I remember was the windshield jumping toward me and the explosion of breaking glass as I seemed to be hurled into another world with the sound of Katrina's screaming echoing in my ears.
When I woke up I was in what was obviously a hospital bed. I put my hand up to my face and felt bandages all over it. I screamed.
A doctor and a nurse rushed into the room.
"My face! My face!" I cried. "What's wrong with my face?"
The elderly white-haired doctor leaned down toward me and said softly, "I'm afraid you've been in a bad accident. Your car ran off the road and you went through the windshield."
Suddenly the haunting memory of Katrina's screams filled my consciousness. "Katrina!" I gasped. "Where's Katrina? Is she..?"
"Yes," he said gently, "I'm afraid she didn't make it."
I let out a long moan and lapsed into unconsciousness.
When I had gone through the windshield, even though my face had been severely cut, it had probably saved my life because I was thrown clear of the wreckage. However, a tree stump had stopped my flight, breaking bones in both of my legs, my right hip, my collarbone, and several ribs. There were no internal injuries, but my broken bones would take a long time to heal, including at least three months in the hospital.
Fortunately the cuts in my face weren't too deep and face wasn't scarred. But my heart and soul were. The injuries were bad enough, but nothing alongside the anguish I felt knowing that Katrina, the one true love of my life, was gone almost immediately after coming into it. In my sorrow I made the decision that to keep the memory of Katrina alive in me, I would use the name she had given me, Honeysuckle. The way I felt it was more of a name to me than the one given to me by my mother, since Katrina had loved me and Margot had always just tolerated me. When the hospital attempted to identify me I told them my first name was Honeysuckle. The nurse cocked her eyebrow in surprise when I said it, but said nothing other than, "That's a very unusual name." Later, however, when my medical records from home arrived at the hospital they listed my first name as Janis, a discrepancy which the head nurse quickly noticed and confronted me with.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but my name is Honeysuckle, and I insist you have me listed as that."
"But your medical records clearly list your first name as Janis," she said.
"It was Janis," I explained, "but I've changed it since then."
"Well, unless you have legal proof that it's been changed," she said firmly, "you're Janis."
"Please, please," I begged, "you don't know how important this is to me. Please, my name is Honeysuckle!"
"Well, if it's that important to you," the head nurse said thoughtfully, "maybe we can work something out. It's important for you to be in good mental health if you're going to recover physically. If it'll make you feel better, I'll tell you what. We'll have to leave Janis on the chart, but we'll add the notation that you like to be called Honeysuckle. How's that?"
"Oh, thank you, thank you," I said gratefully. I wound up spending four months in the main hospital, and then I was transferred to a halfway facility so I could receive physical therapy to regain the use of my legs. It was like learning to walk all over again. The bills for all this must have been enormous, but, fortunately, I had hospital coverage from my job, and, for once, I was glad I had worked in that warehouse. However, I knew that when I got better I couldn't be going back because there were just too many painful memories associated with it. I knew I'd never be able to concentrate on my work there, remembering Katrina by my side.
While I was in treatment I celebrated my seventeenth birthday. The day was on my chart and I was pleasantly surprised when the therapy staff surprised me with a birthday cake. The cake had twenty-one candles on it because I had added four extra years on my age to get my job and my medical records had been assembled and transferred through the insurance company which covered the warehouse. It was really more appropriate that way because I actually felt as though I were twenty-one, officially an adult, now starting on the most crucial phase of my life.
It was around this time that I met Tom, who was to have an important bearing on my decision as to what to do with my life.
Tom came into the physical therapy unit about a month after I did at a time when I was already showing marked improvement and getting around increasingly more. He hadn't been hurt nearly as badly as I had, although we had a lot in common. Mainly, he was also from the city and had been on vacation in the mountains and had been involved in an automobile accident. He was an interesting-looking man in his early twenties. He wasn't really handsome but he was very attractive, and from his first day in the unit every woman patient and nurse was taken with him. Charm plus personality, that was Tom. And it was me he singled out to make friends with almost from the first day he appeared in the unit.
I was sitting down reading a book when he wheeled up to me and said, "What's a nice girl like you doing in a joint like this?"
I laughed and pointed to the walking cast I was still wearing, and said, "What's a lousy joint like this doing in a girl like me?"
He thought that was pretty funny, and we became friendly right away. However, I made sure that our conversations didn't go too far beyond the joking stage. I purposely kept him at a distance because I didn't want to get involved with anybody at that point. I felt I was too insecure to risk another romance with either a man or a woman.
However, I had to admit to myself that after months without sex, now that I was getting physically better my sexual urges were coming back. Frequently during the night I would find myself dreaming of sex. The lovers in my dreams seemed to be of both sexes simultaneously, or, frequently, a man would start to fuck me and then turn into a woman, or vice versa. In one dream I was sucking the clitoris of a lover that vaguely seemed to me to be Katrina. Then, suddenly, as I kissed the pink glistening nub, it grew into an enormous cock, about the size of Red's, that brutally forced its way into my mouth and started choking me. I awoke gasping for breath, a sharp, tingling sensation between my legs. Putting my hand to my crotch I quickly discovered that my cunt was wringing wet. My touch on my pussy excited me even more, and before I knew it I was rubbing my clitoris, and then finger-fucking myself.
The hair on my cunt had long since grown back and I could feel it matted from my juices as I worked my finger up my hole and circulated the palm of my hand over my clitoris and the moist folds of my juicy cunt. I pushed my finger, then two, then three, in and out of my cunt at an accelerating speed, lifting my ass from the sheets and arching my back and spreading try legs to accommodate my pumping.
With my free hand I began to massage my tits, paying particular attention to my nipples which astounded me with their sensitivity and hardness. As I continued to finger my cunt I could feel a shudder spread through my body and I quickly came. After that there were many more dreams capped off with frantic masturbation, sometimes even using pieces of fruit to penetrate my hungry cunt.
Meanwhile, after I was living in the physical therapy unit and masturbating almost nightly, Tom started pressing me to deepen our friendship. I continued to make jokes and to avoid going any further. I had a good time with him, but I didn't let him get close to me. For weeks he took it like a good sport. And then, finally, one afternoon as we sat alone together he leaned over and kissed me.
"Please don't do that," I said.
Suddenly his face flushed and he said, almost angrily, "What h waste. You're beautiful. You look like you were made for love; but I swear you're made out of ice. I don't even know why I want to kiss you. It would probably be wasted emotion."
I don't know why, but when he said that I felt like my sex appeal was being challenged, the one thing I had always depended on. I was confused, and felt uncertain of myself. To mask my quandary I teased him, saying, "Want to bet?"
He looked at me, his anger suddenly gone. "Dinner's on me if you lose," he said.
"Where do we make the test?"
"Right here, Honeysuckle," he said, embracing me.
When he called me that a sensation of longing engulfed me. When we had originally met I had told him that was my name, but probably because it was unusual, he generally avoided calling me by name. Now when he said it under these circumstances, I felt that he understood me and could be trusted; that he cared for me as a human being. As he passionately kissed me, I returned the favor, our tongues darting into each other's mouths.
When we broke off the kiss for air, Tom led me to a secluded corner where he kissed me with even more passion. It had started out as a silly bet, something to be done in fun and games, but the first kiss had quickly ended all notions that we were playing, and now Tom was running his hands over my body as our lips met. My tits tingled under his touch, and without even thinking about the consequences, I welcomed the pressure of his leg which he thrust into my crotch, rubbing my cunt sensuously.
By the Tom ended the second kiss and nuzzled my ear, whispering, "I've never been so glad to lose a bet," all restraint was gone and I was anxious to go on.
It had been so long since I had been physically involved with another person that I had forgotten what it was actually like. I found myself overcome with excitement, almost as though it were the first time I'd ever made out with a boy. Tom heightened my stimulation by working his hands over my tits which were shielded only by a flimsy bra and a thin cotton blouse. Then he dropped an arm and brought his hand up under the folds of my skirt, cupping my sopping cunt through the drenched crotch of my panties, and I knew I was really hot and didn't want to turn back.
The other patients in the unit were off in therapy, or out in town on passes, so we were alone in the recreation room. We had moved over to a secluded, dark corner and our movements were shielded by a potted rubber tree plant that would conceal us if anyone should happen into the room. Still, if we were to do anything, we'd have to do it rapidly because if a whole group of people came in we'd be detected.
With this in mind, I quickly dropped to my knees and began frantically fooling with Tom's zipper, hungrily reaching through the folds of his pants and shorts for his cock. As my hands found it and wrapped around its shaft, I could feel that it was a big one and as hard as a rock. Pulling the cock out and wrapping my lips around it, it suddenly occurred to me that it had been about six months since I had even seen a man's cock, let alone sucked one. This served to motivate me to suck it harder, encircling his waist with my arms and pressing my hands against the soft flesh of his asscheeks in order to pull him toward my face so his cock would ram down my throat. Since time was a factor, I furiously slid my lips back and forth along his shaft, stopping at the top to tickle his cockhead with my tongue, and then plunging back down to the base and his balls, which I had now removed from his trousers and was massaging with my hand as I blew him.
Tom's moans were getting louder from my tantalizing sucking, and I knew I had to finish him off. before he made so much noise he attracted people from other parts of the building. I revolved my mouth, taking his burning prick in my mouth down to his pubic hair, and then sliding back again to the tip, then sucking it down again. I covered his cock with the circular up-and-down motion of my mouth, while my tongue caressed all of his prick I could reach. My handiwork soon netted results as I could feel his cock arch into a swelling curve inside my mouth and suddenly thrust halfway down my throat, shooting a spurting series of huge globs of scalding cum like an automatic rifle firing hot lead. I made sure I swallowed every drop of his jism so there would be no trace of what we had been up to.
When we were finished and Tom was putting his cock back into his pants, he said with genuine concern, "What about you, Honeysuckle? You gave me pleasure, but I wasn't able to do the same for you."
Oh, if only he knew what a thrill it was to suck a cock after so long, I thought, but kept it to myself. Besides, I was pleased that he was so concerned about my satisfaction, something that hadn't exactly been a usual quality in the self-centered men I had known. On the other hand, I wasn't sure whether my attraction to him was sincere, or the result of being starved for sex for so long, and I didn't want to encourage him until I was sure. So I responded to his concern with silence.
"Tonight," he said, "tonight. We'll get passes and go to that restaurant we were talking about, and then rent a room for a couple of hours. I promise you, you won't be sorry."
"No, we can't," I said. "The town's so small that there's only one hotel. Everybody would find out about it."
He chuckled softly. "What if they did? We're all grown up."
"No," I insisted, "I just don't think I could take that right now."
"Well, then, where and when?" he said urgently.
"I'm sorry," I begged off, "you'll have to let me think about it." I was putting that distance between us again and I knew it. But I had to be sure before I got involved with anyone again, even somebody as attractive as Tom.
That night, however, as I undressed for bed, I realized that he had gotten me very worked up when we were together, and the sight of my naked body before the mirror only served to heighten the warmth that was swimming in my body and the clenching sensation in my cunt. I couldn't restrain myself any longer. Sitting on the edge of the bed naked so that I could get a full picture of myself in the mirror, I spread my legs to get a complete view of ray throbbing pussy. I placed my fingers at each side of it and pulled back the lips, baring my moist, pink clit, and my gaping hole. I worked my fingers around the warm lips, feeling the sticky discharge of my cunt on my fingertips, the pleasure shooting through me.
The reflection in the mirror showed a basket of fruit on the nightstand, including a large banana. Quickly, I reached over and grabbed the long, curving yellow piece of fruit and began licking it for lubrication, sucking on it as I would a prick. Then I placed it between my legs watching the process in the mirror as I worked its head between my parted cuntlips and worked it inside of me. Rhythmically I worked it in and out of my cunt, using my free hand to rub my clit, teasing it, and flicking the stiff nub back and forth with my index finger until the feeling was almost too much to bear. When I was on the brink of orgasm, I shoved the banana all the way into my cunt and felt a blinding flash as I came to a shuddering climax.