From: sfj3212@tam2000.tamu.edu (Sarah Fox Jahn)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW STORY: The Personal (ff)
Date: 31 Jan 1996 00:05:43 GMT
Organization: Texas A&M University, College Station, TX
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The Personal (ff) 
1-30-1996

*************
Story copyrighted by the author. Electronic storage and distribution 
fine, as long as author's name and address stays attached. 
Comments welcomed :) Sarah Jahn, sfj3212@tam2000.tamu.edu. 
*************

I sat at my desk, looking at the screen of my Compaq computer. The 
letters of the ad, black on white, looked so artificial. I found it hard 
to believe that this electronic wisp would result in what I had in mind.

The letters proclaimed "I have a desire. It is to become the best at
making a woman come. Orgasms traded for lessons... Your looks, age, 
race are all unimportant. All I ask is that you be clean and healthy. 
As for myself, I am 5'8", with light auburn hair, hazel eyes, 
40D-35-46. Funny how sinister these ads come off, isn't it ;) On 
the lighter side, you will find me a very eager and apt pupil. If 
interested, please email me." 

It did sound awfully technical. Oh well. I supposed it would do. I 
pondered it a bit longer, with my fingers paused over the keyboard. Then 
a few keystrokes, and it was busily whizzing off to machines around the 
world. 

It was late at night. I had the window open to let in the cool Texas 
air of January. From nearby, I could hear cars passing by and the 
occasional train on the tracks next to the apartment complex. I got up 
briefly to get a can of soda then resumed my seat in front of the 
computer. 

Prying the cold can open, I leaned back in my chair and perused the 
newsgroups. Reading alt.sex was a labor of futility these days. Out of 
200 articles, after beating my killfile, I had 40 left to read. Sad. It 
seemed that sex was just not a cared about topic these days. However, 
racism, swearing, and 900 numbers were hot topics. I didn't think Western 
Civilization was coming to an end, but I did wish that newsgroups would 
return to the happy days of the late 80s or early 90s, when commercial 
ads and services were a rarity. The Internet was becoming the Crudenet. 

Another sip of soda. Bubbles fizzed noisily as I set it back down. Hit 
the "n" key. More text blazed past. 

Why had I posted a personal ad. Well, long, droning histories of sexual 
urges are never that interesting. Suffice it to say that I had been 
prompted by my evil subconscious ;) As I walked to my classes, or went to 
nightclubs with girl friends, I found myself looking at women with a 
smile. Their beautiful bodies, soft hair, eyes, lips, the way they moved, 
the way they smelled as they passed by, the silks or cottons they draped 
on themselves. I also felt more natural around them, more alive.
Ah, well, that all sounds like women are alien to me. Nothing could be 
more untrue. I felt like they were part of me, in some glorious, vague 
sisterhood, where the lesbian culture was a welcoming haven. 
 
At Waldenbooks, I poured over the "Social History" section, where they 
had the lesbo books tucked away on the bottom shelves. At Hastings, I 
bought _Dykes To Watch Out For_ and Pat Califia, along with a "cover" 
book on gardening. I stuck a rainbow flag on my bumper and surfed the Web 
to look at women-made jewelry, in the forms of labyrises, or goddesses, 
or rainbow beads. So many little hidden symbols. The black triangle. The 
pink triangle. Ancient fertility symbols and the axes of Amazons. It 
reminded me of the Masons and their crests and rings...  

Some time later, not immediately, I got a reply. Where did I live? Short 
and to the point. No smileys. I pictured a curt mistress in black 
leather, standing over my pleading form, holding a crop. She didn't say 
what she looked like, which was fine with me. More mystery. 

I cleaned my apartment, took out the trash, vacuumed, lit some subtle 
incense. Put my bottle of white wine into the fridge after sticking the 
soda cans on the bottom shelves. 

I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water beat out the tension 
in my shoulders. I was nervous. Yes, one of those baby dykes, who had 
never been with a woman. But how I had thought about it. If all it took 
was neuron power, I'd be the womanly Don Juan by now. 

I brushed my teeth, blew my hair dry. Make-up? I had quite a stash of 
Loreal, but decided against it. I laughed at myself as I stood naked in 
front of my closet. This was not a date. Well, maybe it was, in a strange 
kind of way. What to wear, hmmm. I pushed a gathered blouse outside, then 
a earth-mother cotton dress. A black velvet mini and a satin blouse, nah. 

I ended up sitting oh-so-casually on the couch in Levi's and a deep blue 
scoopneck teeshirt, with dangly silver earrings. No shoes. I looked up at 
the ceiling and realized the overhead was on. I ran over and turned it 
over and flicked on a couple floor lamps, that threw a golden soft light 
upwards. Much better. 

I looked at the clock on top of the TV. I felt a little light headed. 
There was the sound of a car in the lot. Was it her? 

I heard a car door slam, and steps outside. Pause. I held my breath. A 
knock that made me jump up like my alarm in the morning. 

I looked through the peephole briefly. It was too smudged to really see 
her. All I saw was long brown hair and a white shirt. I turned the locks and 
opened the door with a smile. 

"Hi, Ruby" she said with a grin. 

I was in another world. She was... ohmigod, a real live woman RIGHT IN 
FRONT OF ME. And we were going to...! Finally my brain took over and I 
shook my head and pulled the door back further. 

I laughed, then said "Sheila. Won't you come in?". 

She moved past me and I caught the faint scent of musk. She sat herself 
down on the couch and leaned back, looking totally at ease. 

I crossed in front of her, very aware of how I moved, and went into the 
kitchen. I opened the refridgerator, and peered in. 

"Would you like anything to drink? Coke? Water? Wine? Any of the three 
basics?" I leaned in towards her with a grin. 

"Some wine sounds great," as she leaned forward to grab a book off the 
coffee table. As she turned the pages in a glossy tattoo book I had, I 
checked the glass for smudges or dust. Looked ok. I poured some of the 
wine in, and felt the glass turn cold. 

Giving her the misty crystal, I sat beside her and tried to look casual. 

Sheila looked over at me. I looked back. She had long, golden brown hair, 
very thick, that hung in wavy curls down past her shoulders. Rosy skin, 
and a very curvy body. Sage green eyes, and on her sandalled feet, deep 
pink toe polish. Long eyelashes. Ears that looked like fragile shells. A 
mole on her right cheekbone. 

"Do you have a tattoo?" she asked, pointing towards the book in her lap. 

"I, uh, yep." Not exactly my shining moment in verbosity. 

"Oh yeah? Cool! What of?" Her eyes shined, and she sat up further. 

Hmmm! This was encouraging. 

"A big furry red fox", I stage whispered. I raised my eyebrows. 

"Let me see..." she said, leaning in closer. I felt like the big bad 
Wolf, and I liked it. 

I stood up, and took off my shirt. So much for that modesty hang-up! In 
my bra, I sat back down with my back to her. 

The fox was part of a large back piece I had had done a couple years ago. 
Inscribed in a perfectly deep black circle, he wrapped around the inside, 
with his tail, whiskers, and amber eyes in fine detail. The red ink had 
bothered me for a while, but eventually my skin accepted it. The heavy 
black fill-in had taken a few workings over, which were not the most 
comfortable times for me, but it had been worth it. The red fur was 
smooth while the black was slightly raised.  

Suddenly, I felt her fingers on my skin. I jumped a little and laughed. 

"It's amazing, really intense colors. I bet it was painful". 

"Oh, well, one must suffer to be beautiful". I turned around a little 
towards her with a smile. 

Reaching towards me again, she unsnapped my bra, and pushed the straps 
off my shoulders. I lifted up my arms and she slide it off and put it 
beside me. 

"Much better", she whispered. Her hands smoothed over my shoulders and 
down my back. I felt the hair on my arms stand up, and everything seemed 
much crisper all of a sudden. 

Deciding not to play coy, I turned around, put my hands on the side of 
her face, and kissed her. 

Warm, silky softness, mixed with the tangy acid taste of wine. She 
pressed up against me, and I was surprised at the feel of her breasts 
against mine. The feeling of velvety pressure of her breasts and the 
wetness of her mouth was a revelation. 

When we broke apart, I could feel my heart stuttering in my chest and the 
slippery heat between my legs. I imagined I could smell myself. Maybe I 
could. 

I slowly pulled her shirt off, leaning in to taste her bare breasts. Her 
nipples were a light coral color, almost imperceptible from the pale 
skin. When hard, they only stood out a little. I played with the tips 
with my tongue, then lightly bit them, which elicited a gasp and having 
my head pressed against her. I repeated my nibbling treatment while 
unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. No underwear. This was a woman who 
dressed for speed. 

I pulled away from her breasts with a grin. "Yummy." I noticed her face 
was flushed, along with her nipples. 

She raised herself off the couch a little and pulled down her jeans, 
easing them down her legs, and folding them into a neat pile that she put 
beside the couch. 

"Eat me." 

I gave her my attempt at a devilish look, and proceeded to do as 
commanded. I moved off the couch, and knelt in front of her. She knudged 
herself closer to the edge and lay back. 

Dark, thick fur, and that smell. Oh God. Putting my hands on her thighs, 
I opened them a bit more, then moved in. She was very wet. My first lick, 
from the bottom to the top, was rewarded with a low groan. Ruby, this is 
it. Your first woman. Oh, the taste... As I went on, I tried to think of 
analogies but nothing came close. All I knew was that I craved more of 
it. The saltiness made me savor the moisture, and the creamy texture 
stayed with me as I enthusiastically licked her. After several searching 
tonguings, I settled in on top of her clit, and put my lips around it in 
a circle, sucking, while I flicked the tip of my tongue lightly over 
it... as fast as I could. Sheila went into a paroxysm of twisting and 
bucking, whispering to me words that made my thighs even wetter. 

"Ah... God, oh... Mmmmm... AH! Yes! Please....". She reached down and 
grabbing my hand, brought it to herself. I followed her lead and slowly 
inserted two fingers into her, where they were engulfed by wet heat and 
an indescribable silkiness. 

Just when I thought she was going to come, she drew back, and put a hand 
on my head. 

"Wait", she commanded. She got up and went to my student futon, where she 
lay back, and adjusted the pillow under her head. 

"Have you ever 69'ed with a woman?" she asked. 

Standing over her, still in my jeans, I shook my head no. 

"Well, take off those Levi's, and get down here, girl." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

I shucked them off, and tossed them beside the futon. I climbed over her, 
and gently lay myself down over her face.   

All I wanted was to get my mouth back on her. As I did, I felt the first 
tickle of her mouth. Her technique was excellent, and I found myself 
hard-pressed to follow suit, with my mind reeling every time her fingers 
pumped into me or her tongue slid over me. Trembling, I came, my face on 
her thigh, gasping. 

Coming back down, I resumed, letting my fingers slid inside her. I 
removed my middle finger and pushed it gently into the slippery, puckered 
hole beneath. Feeling both fingers inside her, moving at the same time, 
coupled with my determined licking, she shivered and clamped my head 
between her thighs. 

I heard animalistic cries and groans, cushioned by strong thighs. Then, 
she stiffened like a woman made of stone, and was very quiet for a 
second. I felt her tighten around my hand and the quick, short little 
tremors ran through her. Then more silence. 

She let out a loud breath and laughed, pulling herself up. 

"Damn, Ruby, I think I'll need to come here more often", she grinned, and 
ran a hand through her tousled hair. She looked pleased. I was. Oh boy, 
was I. 

"Teach me, oh Obi Wan." I prostrated myself in front of her, and was 
pulled up into a spicy kiss. 

Things were looking up.  

***
Sarah Jahn -- Texas A&M University -- Anthropology Dept. 
comments welcomed :)