Petit, Mi primera experiencia lesbica.

Hello my friends, followers, readers, and those who adore wanks, as there are many readers who enjoy long but hot and well-written stories, for you, my first lesbian experience with something taboo.Small Procedures for a True Friendship. The 'never say never' and the 'don't say: I won't drink from this water' came to me like a boomerang. Since my eyes opened to the truths of life, let's not be surprised by surprises. I hated men when they would suggest and whisper their dirty fantasies in my ear. I'd jump like a spring when a man had the audacity to confess the perverted image of seeing me with another girl, doing who knows what. Simply I took my arms and created a fortress around myself, just to reject all lustful and foreign ideas. But if you spit up, it can fall on your face.

That afternoon at my boyfriend Evant's house, the atmosphere was charged with that peculiar substance that warns that this day is different. You know, the rare warm environment. No cold breezes, and in the clouds, those violet and rose colors, capriciously mischievous and quite intoxicating. There were no second intentions. Evant just wanted me not to be a simple acquaintance of his sister Petit, but for us to be friends. Evant said that this would only happen if the conversation didn't just touch superficial topics like: Hi, how are you? But rather took it to deeper levels. Only if you really care about others' problems as if they were your own, it would lead to a true friendship. And so, on that afternoon that was making itself into night in a hurry, words would be tools to unite with honey and wax the human social structure's bonds.

Evant, as always, eternal lover of his dry red wine, brought a dark-red-stained bottle to the 'crazy room' where Petit and I were, in the middle of that uncomfortable silence that follows an informal greeting and a 'how's everything going'. That crazy room was like dreams, because Evant had decorated it with the evolution of all his surreal ideas that he had pulled from the deep abysses of his unconscious. He seized those ideas and trapped them in oils, watercolors, and pencil drawings, and he covered his refuge with these strange mirrors, almost irrepresentable.

-Evant, stop drinking the wine so fast. It seems like you're going to die of thirst- I said almost without knowing what else to say. And Evant responded with a smile that I already know means - it's his way of saying, what more does it matter? Petit only emitted a small sound and behind his lips, which I interpreted as laughter. Ah, if I knew my dear Evant, he always falls asleep when he drinks like this. That's why I said what I said. Because, like many, I was afraid of the uncomfortable silences that could occur between two unknowns. Evant, for his part, decided to deceive me with my greatest competition, went to put music on the stereo, that Blues music that can cure you or drive you mad.

Meanwhile, I remained lost in thought, watching and living the strange feeling that this melody was producing, making love to the faint light of that room. Evant is fascinated by half-lights. That room where there are more shadows than highlights. That focus trapped between red and blue glass, which casts strange colored rays through the bottle of red wine. And I there, watching without seeing, the intoxicating ink, already wanting to take a sip of those almost thick juices of luxurious grapes. I took a cup and filled it, hesitated for a second and preferred to offer it to Petit. She was there, in bed, like that, without worries. Recumbent as if only the absolutely immediate future mattered with each breath. With her red hair disheveled, with her blue eyes, well open, defying Evant's room with her charm. Petit is like her name, small in every sense. Everything is small about her, and perhaps that's what makes her so big. Because she traps gazes, obliging those around her to create a focus on her. As if she were the only person on the tables of a theater, while a hundred people didn't know where to look next. I gazed at his fine and rosy lips, as I was sipping a drink of wine that had already been served without me realizing it. Ah Evant, if you only knew when I drink like this. He was already asleep on the couch, looking like he had already left the interstices of his brutally strange worlds. Tomorrow, he'll probably bring another story that will make my hair stand on end.

I didn't have sleep, took a blanket, and wrapped Evant so he could keep exploring in his own dimension. I returned my gaze and Petit was watching my ass. Of course, the little blonde girl turned her gaze to the side and smiled with that twisted smile towards the other side. What an odd gesture, but those gestures made anyone fall in love, because sometimes, if you paid attention, you saw those around her trying to imitate Petit's adorable gestures.

Petit got up and took the blood wine. She took it straight from the bottle, as if saying, I don't care about pretentious cups. And then she passed me the bottle too, as if saying, Drink a little of my crazy saliva, don't be so orderly in your thoughts. And I caught on to that freshness of worn-out blue jeans and tousled red hair. I took four big gulps and sat down next to her.

And Petit said: I like you, Alicia. Say A-li-cia. –And separated the syllables with her hoarse voice- Have you fallen into the rabbit hole? And she ended it with a short and coquettish laugh. And I said one of those No that doesn't think about it.

-I know the way- she said with an overabundant voice- Evant once showed me- And I got attentive, with wine in my veins, but still attentive. And I relaxed and told her- Tell me more. Everything related to him interests me a lot. It's like my drug- and I laughed. Evant startled, turned right, and continued into the depths.

Petit looked at him as if she were looking at a distance extremely far away and then saw me with blue lights. advanced slightly, and her back left the wall that she had been holding onto just moments before. And she put her hand behind my neck, pulled me gently towards her, and plunged her pink tongue into my swollen lips that everyone wants to take away from me. She searched for my triangular tongue, as I had it at the back, since it's not my habit to kiss with it. But that wine, that hypnotic room, that erotic devil music, those lights, cursed lights, damned stained crystals. Damned Evant. Everything conjured me to release my imprisoned tongue and this timid wet thing, went to taste Petit's flavor, Petit's teeth, the soft part under Petit's tongue, Petit's thin and criminal lips, the putrid mint and wine flavor of Petit.

Ah, tender and violent little girl. She grabbed my blouse and in that tug, the loose buttons simply surrendered. These breasts of mine, once cursed, and now redeemed and blessed by the enormous voluptuousness I now presume, were supported by the bra and Petit's gaze, which looked at them as if she had hunger for them. It seemed that Petit suddenly gained hatred towards her jacket, and took it off, threw it away, and hurried to take off her Rock&Roll shirt. She only left the indescribable-colored bra. She took me by the hands and together we knelt on Evant's bed, she looked at my breasts again and said: -Since I saw you, I knew that your tits were going to be mine- I felt the blush, even with the warmth of the wine on my face, on my tits, on the damn ass, and in my heart. I felt proud, even consciously pressed my breasts against her small tits, and together we removed each other's bras. My breasts felt the relief of freedom, and Petit's pink nipples searched for my large and hard nipples, as if to feel embraced by supreme femininity.

What a warm feeling from a blue velvet hell in that fourth! It seemed like the place was breathing and sweating perfumes of a woman demon named Eróticarium. I was inhaling Petit's breath, and she was devouring the perfectly rounded forms of my large hot tits. In her gaze you could see the crudeness of her desire for me. She whispered to me, come on, my love, with that consented and pampered voice. Come here, come over me, and she shamelessly purred. My little cat Petit with pink nipples thought I, drink from my excessive femininity, I thought. So Evant would tell me, I was a woman woman. And with Petit I believed it. She saw in me a woman twice a woman. That's what my body screamed, with large breasts, white skin, long red hair, lips like criminal strawberries, and a thin waist! Evant says, I love your waist, Petit says in those moments, and thus Petit is looking for more skin to swallow with her gaze. She searches for getting rid of the annoyingly tight pants I was wearing. I help her, of course, since I want to serve as food. I lower my pants and she wants to see my ass when it's uncovered, she didn't want to miss that moment. And I look at Petit with lascivious curiosity. She looks at my ass with large white buttocks, which Evant calls my peaches and Petit seems hungry. She licks the skin of my ass, gives me small kisses and with her small hands painted with strong pink nails, she grabs me a little violently and feels the sinking into my skin. And I had allowed the small snowball to descend precipitously. With a slightly open mind and desires unleashed, the avalanche only grows. Petit grabs one of my buttocks, a little violently, a little sweetly, and feels the sinking into my skin. Her thin and daring fingers knew how to touch in her own way. My Petit has its disordered procedures. She keeps lowering my tight pants, and her high heels could be limits for the frantic desires of my Petit, but I wasn't that cruel or stupid not to help her in her attempt to having a little more of me. I took off my shoes, and she looked at me with her eyes as if she didn't want me to give her spoonfuls of sensual food, looked at my red socks and let her do it. She got out of bed, sat down in front of me, and Petit lay there like posing for an oil painting or better, a two-tone photograph, with her small breasts, her hair more disheveled, and her legs bent back and to the sides. Looking at my socks as if she wanted to catch their image so she wouldn't forget precious sensations for herself. She took my left foot and brought it to her cheek, caressed it with the inner part of my foot, and I felt a little in love, a little inspired, very charmed.

What an appetizing ritual can be carried out when the delights of aromas, forms, and flavors are tested with maximum amazement, with sparks from each perception, filling the senses, overwhelming them with timeless and prejudice-free sensations. She took off one sock after another, as if by doing so she were discovering the most delicate flower, avoiding damaging the tender and rosy petals as much as possible. My feet were left bare, and Petit would take them from my heels and bring one down while bringing the other up. It seemed like her life was slipping away in it, she approached my toes and opened her wet lips. She kissed the tip of my foot while looking at me from below, and then went back to bed, as if retaking the ritual she had been creating religiously.

That music, composed of orgasms and libidinous musical scales, didn't stop producing wonderful ravages in my diverted mind. Music that said: keep undressing yourself, my love, I want you to put on your transparent sweat. And I listened to the melody and its maestro, Petit. Little perverse one, she left my black thong on purpose. The last bite for her little finale. Me there, almost naked. Making the pose of a siren who could take the sun and let the sailor see me. perverse that may be. Almost totally exposed to the desires of my little pervertress. Then she danced a bit, or at least it seemed to me, seeing her hip swaying to the hypnotic rhythm. Removing what was left of her rebellious rockera clothing. White legs, thin and short, ending in tattooed feet with blue turquoise flowers. Damned and desirable woman. A master of what she wants to be and have. One cannot deny someone like that the body they desire.

-Come, Alicia,-she whispered in my ear- let me find the rabbit's hiding place- and a shiver ran down my spine, ending in my thighs. I sat on the northern part of Evant's bed, and she wanted to lie down beside me. She explored with her fine nose from my toes up, breathing, going up more and breathed more, as if I were a preferred hallucination powder for my Petit, reaching my trembling knees, and she said:- roses, strawberries, strawberry oil,-she said.

Petit took delicate hold of the ends of my black thong. That thong with which Evant usually kills by breathing in her perfumes, saying you smell like jasmine tea and turquoise ocean. The same thong now has two owners. My Petit removed it and took it to her sniffing nose for little sins. And the expression on Petit's face was like Evant's.

-No doubt- I thought- They are brothers.

I felt fatigue in my thighs, a tense sensation, wanting to be stimulated. But I didn't dare say it. Petit just looked at me with her eyes between open and closed, making a fatal woman face. She lowered her sniffing nose to the mount of my personal Venus and breathed deeply. The sound of her inhalations was intoxicating. I felt like when she did that, something from my life became hers. And I felt like the victim who surrendered without resistance to her vampire violator. Soon Petit played a bit with her blonde hair, combing it with her hands. toward the back and began to advance on her knees with feline movements. She released her yellow thong with lateral cords and left her pubis exposed to the light of that infernal stained glass lamp. Those lips -which would seem virginal even if she had sex with all humanity- left them visible to the shadows in that room. White, small, clean, pure lips without a trace of beauty on them. She took between her fingers that piece of cloth covering her pulsing love and advanced her hand towards me. She gently inserted her small yellow thong into my semi-open mouth and I accepted it very hungrily. Her movements accelerated and she climbed onto my breasts, lifted her pubis towards my face, and I with my lips preferred by Evant released the garment at the delicious surprise and felt the aroma of Petit's intimate lips. She danced to the rhythm of that fatal blues, moving backwards and forwards, and I pulled out my small triangular tongue to taste the thin line separating the larger lips from my progressing friend. A friendship like this feels different. It's like a heartbeat but at a faster pace. A heart palpitation of emotions. Like when I inserted the tip of my tongue and it sank slowly between Petit's pink, larger lips. It was like licking a very slow-moving pastry and finding inside it a small, warm, moist point. Her clitoris tasted like a combination of young sweat, ambrosia essence, and supplicant sex. There was that immaculate pubis, going and coming, moving away and approaching, opening up under the pressure of my tongue trying to divide and feel the embrace of her vaginal lips on my triangular tongue. I accepted and embraced my madness and delicious sin. I grabbed her white buttocks and pulled her towards me, as that game of going and coming was killing me with anxiety. I inserted my tongue and licked what I could of her moisture, at first it seemed like Her vagina was a bit dry, but when I pushed my tongue in harder, trying to reach the opening of the hiding place she had told me about, I opened the source of libidinal juices and felt the full flavor of the sweet tears of taste that Petit's vagina could release. Meanwhile, she was panting heavily, giving me small, successive kisses like drops of a just-starting rainstorm, kissing my head, rosy cheeks, forehead, and when I looked up to get drunk on her excited gestures, she kissed me again, and I, like an excited woman who wants to show what she had discovered in the flavor of that lubricant nectar from her flower, passed her own taste mixed with my saliva, producing extra quantity so we could drown in our secret secretion.

Then, in the midst of that burning sensation, Petit stretched out her hand and reached for the bottle responsible for the events that were happening, and poured a red stream into her mouth that dripped deliciously over the thin lips of that golden lover. Dry wine lines drew mysterious paths, and I felt a little jealous of the caresses that that drunken river was giving to my small Petit, so I licked those tributaries as they flowed through her breasts, emptying into her navel. She lifted the bottle again and poured another stream over my large breasts, and we soaked the bed in sweat and red ink. What a welcome humidity in the middle of my legs! I said: 'Drink, my love, please drink!' - I felt like my desires were surging forth, for it was a supplication. Let all trace of shame be taken away from me, let her suck out the wine that had penetrated my burning vulva. And she licked me happily, as if murmuring sounds of drinking, and her tongue brought me rest from those who are not passive but demand more daring moments.

I offered her my open legs and her tongue plunged in. In my wet vagina filled with my juices and wines of all. It was at that moment when my sight sought the state of Evant, and there I was with a half-smile, seeing from the back, sitting comfortably in that red velvet armchair. I don't know how long I had been watching. Evant got up from his armchair and left the room, and with another smile said: - How beautiful is life! Continue weaving love, I'll be right back- And I swallowed saliva and took pleasure. Petit hadn't even moved, kept licking my palpitating and swollen clitoris, with intermittent attempts to reach my anus with its small tongue. I was flushed by the shapes of my Petit's back, the way it arched, the silhouette that ended in that elegant heart formed by his buttocks, a precious ass that brought me new hungers. Then at that moment Evant returned, carrying a shiny object in his hand, looked like a blue crystal. He approached, gave Petit a slap on the butt and then grabbed my breasts, kissing me in the mouth with a bit of wildness, but looking into his eyes I remembered and understood what Evant always told me about his fantasy of seeing me making love to a woman. I recall that I used to show myself so indignant at just the idea. And I would say he thought that because in reality he wanted to sleep with two women at the same time. But he insisted that the image that satisfied him was seeing me sucking other breasts, a wet pussy, surrendering to a woman, to see two roses mixing their perfumes to create the maximum feminine essence. Now that I understood, now that it became real, I was satiated by the possibilities of becoming a vigorous bisexual, a woman loving breasts and cunts, mistress and slave of my Evant, but also intimate sister of his sister.

There was Evant, still sitting in his place, while Petit approached him and took the blue crystal penis from his hands, which Petit already seemed to know (some story would have). Now Petit approached me, took the enormous transparent penis and introduced it smoothly into my saliva-moist vagina lubricated by wine and juices. Petit brought her vulva as close as possible and inserted the other end of that precious object, and our vaginas united in a pact of love and sex. We moved devouring each centimeter one by one until our intimate lips kissed passionately, and I couldn't take it anymore, let my squirt run that so fascinates Evant, moistening his bed like an uncontrollable fountain of female orgasm. It was as if I were urinating all the sensations I had drunk in that unforgettable night. My Petit also emitted her orgasmic cry and contortions, her trembling belly and mouth excited me so much that just seconds later I came again, and another wave of moisture burst from my vagina. I couldn't believe it. Then my little Petit took the blue penis to keep it from falling out, tried an acrobatic movement and got down on all fours, I followed the game and we ended up like two bitches, entwined. Then I saw my Evant with his penis in his right hand, moving it forward and backward. It must have been a very intense image for him. We kept moving, but the penis was too big for our booties to join, pressing my uterus until finally its rear started bouncing off mine. The sole psychological stimulation was enough to make me come again. A feeling of being the most slutty woman on the planet invaded me and took me to the most erotic hells and back to the most depraved heavens where a thousand angels were penetrating one after another. I couldn't take it anymore, my legs didn't give out, they were trembling like my tits. My mind lost all sense of time, Petit seemed to be coming again and again without stopping and the room filled with the smell of sex, moist vaginas, sweaty penises, breasts that sweeten the air with their aromas, saliva refreshing the lips of mouths that groaned. Minutes that ran like seconds, elapsed in moments of swollen cocks due to the friction of that supernatural penis. Then Evant approached slowly with his erect penis and pointing out the nucleus of our pleasure, poured all its load of semen in the middle of the four buttocks that formed that erotic palace, ready to be blessed by the cum white and warm of our lord. I felt like my man's load rolled and bathed our booties. While Petit and I continued in that thrusting and withdrawing, you could feel the thick semen sticking to both backsides and finally falling on the hot cunts, touching the bed of the beautiful sin lastly.

We separated, taking out the adored crystal blue phallus, which seemed magical and delicious with all those human, superhuman juices. And we both knew what to do, since hunger was felt in our libidinous senses. We licked it once and again, each drop, each thick potion, and the thousand flavors of love entered my tongue's taste buds like divine liquid for my thirst of perversion. Clean remained. It shone under the light of the multicolored lamp, and then sleep arrived that in a warm embrace even more united us and we slept until the sun rose.

Thanks to all readers for accompanying me in the realization of my first stories.
Wet kisses to all.I'm leaving a recent photo, enjoy me
Alicia Wonders