Adoring Her Starfish: A Lesbian Romance Collection

by Nico At Night

  I had lost track of the number of times I pleasured myself to thoughts of Anne-Sophie and I couldn’t stand having an orgasm without her anymore. This Christmas trip home was going to be the time I finally made my move. But I had no idea of what lusty experiences truly lied ahead for Anne-Sophie and I.

  Back on the train, Anne-Sophie looked over to me lovingly and reached her hand out for mine. Eagerly, I placed my palm in hers and we tenderly held each other, smiling at one another as the train chugged along and the waning daylight began to disappear from our little window.

  My heart fluttered.

  *

  The taxi sped off as Anne-Sophie and I, each with a packed duffle bag, traipsed up the walkway toward my family’s house. The driveway and residential street were packed with cars belonging to my various family members in attendance of my parents’ annual Christmas Eve party. I took a deep breath of the chilly December air and smiled to my friend as we approached the door.

  “I apologize in advance for how weird my family can be,” I said, a sheepish grin spread across my lips. “Brace yourself.”

  “Oh Lorna,” Anne-Sophie said with a laugh. “I’m sure they are wonderful.”

  “I’ll remember you said that,” I said. Looking at Anne-Sophie bundled up tightly in her black puffy winter coat, a scarf around her neck, a knitted cap haphazardly hung on her head allowing her curls to spill out from underneath it, I sighed happily, eager to spend the holiday with her and get even closer to her.

  I opened the front door to my parents’ house and as we walked in together, a group of my family noticed us and gave an excited cheer at our arrival.

  “Heeeey!” a couple of them said in unison.

  “They’re here!” I heard come from the crowd.

  The first person to approach us was my uncle, a jovial older guy, red in the face from too many spirits but smiling nonetheless.

  “I’ll take those, ladies,” he said, reaching for our bags.

  “Take those upstairs,” ordered my mother, speeding up towards Anne-Sophie and I with a beaming smile on her face, pushing past my uncle who began to slink off with our bags. “Lorna!” she exclaimed, leaping out to hug me.

  “Hi Mom,” I said.

  “And this is your friend?” she said, stepping back and looking to Anne-Sophie.

  “This is Anne-Sophie,” I said. “Anne-Sophie, this is my mother.” The two of them hugged tightly, a light dusting of snow gracefully falling from Anne-Sophie’s coat as my mother squeezed her.

  “Charmed,” said Anne-Sophie, giving my mother a warm smile.

  “Give the girls some space, Brenda,” I heard through the party’s revelry. Coming up to us was my father with a wine glass in each hand. “Give me your coats,” he said. “And take this mulled wine.”

  After a number of greetings and introductions, some small talk and school updates, Anne-Sophie and I found ourselves sitting together in my family’s living room in a big leather chair. Rather, she sat in the chair, relaxing into it wearing a comfy-looking black turtleneck sweater, a herringbone skirt, and black stockings, her dark brown hair pinned up lazily in a bun. I sat atop the large chair arm, fondling my wine glass in my fingers, loving the warmth of the roaring fire just a few feet away from where we sat. The room was festively decorated and comfortably lived in, a large Christmas tree off to the corner sparkling with lights and ornaments. I noticed Anne-Sophie smiling as she looked around the room, taking it all in.

  “This is nice,” she said to me after taking a sip of her mulled wine. “Your family is quite amiable.” The way she spoke with her French accent killed me, so cute and proper.

  “After a bit of wine,” I said. “I can begin to tolerate them.” Anne-Sophie laughed at me.

  “At least you get to see your family at Christmas,” she said. “Be thankful for what you have.”

  “I know,” I said bashfully. “I’m just teasing.”

  “You look very beautiful in the firelight,” she said, raising her glass to toast me and then taking another sip. I could feel my pulse quicken with her words and I followed her lead of drinking from my glass, tasting the seasonally inspired spice of the wine. Reaching my hand back, I fluffed at my blonde hair and fiddled with my bra strap underneath my dress.

  “Thank you,” I said, trying not to blush.

  “You should wear your glasses more often,” said Anne-Sophie, referring to the dark black plastic frames atop my nose. More often than not I wore contacts, but the long train ride tired my eyes out and I had switched to my glasses once we arrived.

  “You think so?” I said, scrunching up my nose and fussing with them.

  “They’re cute,” she said. “You look very modern.”

  Anne-Sophie’s compliments gave me a tingling feeling inside, an expectant anxiety that made blood rush through me. I felt myself growing a little woozy, and perhaps the wine had something to do with it, but the look on Anne-Sophie’s face, a warm and caring and affable expression, lead me to question who was really in charge for this Christmas visit home to my family’s house.

  Suddenly my father appeared out in front of us, holding a full carafe of wine, sloshing it merrily back and forth with a smile on his face and a tune in his heart.

  “It’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with yooooou,” he sung, grinning and holding carafe out for us. “More mulled wine?”

  “Yes please,” said Anne-Sophie, holding out her glass as my father filled it. “Thank you very much.”

  “Lorna?” he asked, looking to me as I continued to sit on the arm of the chair.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “You girls won’t want to stay up too late,” said my father as he filled my glass. “Santa might skip over our house.”

  “Dad,” I said, looking away with some embarrassment.

  “Have you been nice, Anne-Sophie?” he asked. “Or naughty?”

  “Nice up until now,” she said with a grin. “But there is still time to be naughty before Santa arrives.” My father laughed.

  “Well, maybe Santa won’t notice tonight with all the work he has to do,” he said, wagging his finger at us. As he walked away, he returned to singing the same carol he was when he approached, adding stilted emphasis on certain words for humorous dramatics.

  “He’s drunk,” I said, swirling the wine around in my glass and smiling at Anne-Sophie.

  “I am on my way there,” she said, taking a big gulp of wine.

  As the evening wore on, family members began saying their goodbyes and filtering out. Hugs were exchanged, well-wishes, Merry Christmases, waves from the doorway as the flurries of snow fell down the night sky and thickened the accumulation on the ground. Inside the fire had started becoming dim, the sound of jovial voices faded, and before we knew it the party had come to its natural end.

  My mother and I closed the door on the final guest and then we hugged, while Anne-Sophie hung of to the side taking the last sip of her wine. I looked over to her as I embraced my mother and Anne-Sophie’s dark eyes bounced with fire, alight with something I hadn’t seen before in her, a kind of passion that was usually reserved for the most intense lust. Releasing my mother, we both stepped back and smiled.

  “Your father is already passed out,” she said with a snarky look on her face. “He’s been drinking wine since two in the afternoon.”

  “Is there any more left?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said. “There’s still a half carafe in the kitchen. If you girls want some more, go for it. I’m going to clean up and then head to bed.”

  “I think we’ll be going upstairs shortly,” I said, looking over to Anne-Sophie and grinning.

  *

  As we stepped into my childhood bedroom, each with a full glass of wine in our hands, Anne-Sophie looked around to take in the space. At the far side of the room was my large bed, made up and ready for our arrival and opposite the bed was a small pullout couch, its own bed removed, setup, and adorned with blankets and pillows. Our duffle bags
were sitting together on the floor butted up against a wall and the light throughout the room was low and warm.

  Anne-Sophie took a few paces into the room and set her glass down atop my dresser, spinning around and smiling, looking at the arrangements.

  I closed the door to my bedroom firmly and swiftly locked the knob, trying to do so without much noise.

  “This room is so… you,” said Anne-Sophie sliding up to me in her stocking feet.

  “I did live in it for a very long time,” I said.

  “Let me take that,” she said, reaching out and taking the wine glass from me. Anne-Sophie took a sip of it and then moved back to the dresser and put my glass next to hers.

  I watched her turn around again and smile at me seductively. I was speechless. I could only observe, standing there half-frozen.

  “Lorna,” said Anne-Sophie, once more slinking toward me, almost sashaying as she approached. “I know what you are up to.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “Really,” said Anne-Sophie as she saddled up next to me, reaching out her hands and gently hanging them on my sides. “Do you want to kiss me?”

  “Yes,” I said shyly. Anne-Sophie had turned the tables on me, taking control of my little plan but nonetheless steering it in the direction I wanted it to go.

  Without another word, she slowly leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips against mine. I could taste the spice of the mulled wine on her lips, I could feel her warm breath, and a heated and anxious sensation began to build up inside of me, keenly anticipating where this sultry kiss could lead.

  We embraced and kissed, standing there in my bedroom, Anne-Sophie leading the charge. My heart raced as our kiss went on and I could feel myself growing moist down between my thighs, a soft subtle creaminess leaking out of me and onto my panties.

  “How was that?” asked Anne-Sophie as she pulled back from our kiss. My head was abuzz, my heartbeat quickened, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to touch her again.

  “You’re so amazing,” I said, nuzzling my nose against hers. “That kiss was just like I remembered all those months ago on the beach.”

  “I’m sorry that I turned down your advances,” said Anne-Sophie, taking one step away from me and reaching a hand behind her body. She casually unzipped the top of her herringbone skirt and let it fall down her legs, standing there now in only her sweater and black tights. Through the sheerness of her tights, I could vaguely see her panties. I wanted to be inside of them. I wanted to kiss her.

  Anne-Sophie stepped out of her skirt and turned to the side, showing off her ass and grinning.

  “Will you help me take these off?” she asked, motioning to her tights. I nodded slowly and approached her, taking hold of her tights and delicately pulling them down over her ass and hips, the thin fabric rolling onto itself, while Anne-Sophie fingered her sweater and pulled it upwards over her head.

  She was absolutely gorgeous standing there in only a black pair of tight bikini panties and a black bra, her body perfect in every way. I was standing so close to her I could feel the heat radiating off of her, inspiring a flame to burn brighter inside of me. Unable to help myself, I reached for her panties and fondled at the elastic band.

  “No, no, no,” teased Anne-Sophie. “Let’s get this off of you now.” Reaching around back of me, she took down the zipper of my dress and guided the long sleeves off of my arms. Anne-Sophie pulled the top of the dress down to my waist, exposing my red lace bra, and she seductively cupped her hands on the sides of my breasts. “Magnifique,” she cooed.

  “I’ve been waiting for this forever,” I said, pushing my dress eagerly down my hips, simultaneously taking hold of my own tights and shoving them down my legs as well. Once my mess of clothing was off and in pile next to Anne-Sophie’s, both of us simply stood there in our undergarments ogling each other and smiling intoxicated smiles.

  Anne-Sophie brought me in close to her once more and we shared another long, deep kiss, hands running over one another’s bare backs, lustily caressing and holding onto each other. As we made out, Anne-Sophie drew a hand upwards and deftly unhooked my bra, assisting in pulling the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. My breasts tumbled out, aching to be touched. As if she could infer what I was thinking, Anne-Sophie cradled my breasts lovingly, lightly squeezing, massaging me as our kiss grew more passionate.

  “Mmm,” hummed Anne-Sophie, pulling back from our kiss and smiling at me. “Shall we lie down?”

  I nodded, but she had already stepped away and was walking toward the bed, gracefully unlatching her own bra and letting it tumble down to the floor. Before I knew it, she was slipping her panties down her legs and kicking them off, climbing up into the bed and writhing into the sheets.

  “Well?” she said to me as I watched her.

  I mounted the bed after her, slithering up the length of it and then collapsing down onto of her, kissing her, feeling her, letting my hands course all over her body. One hand slid down between her legs and eagerly rubbed up against her pussy, touching her folds, fingers pressing into her slit, the fur between her legs soft against my palm.

  Anne-Sophie threaded her fingers into my panties, stretching out the elastic and pushing them down over my ass. With my panties halfway down my thighs, I grinded down on top of her, loving the feeling of her hands running over my cheeks. It was then that I felt her fingers drop down into my crack, trail through the crevasse tenderly, one fingertip settling directly on my asshole and beginning to fondly rub it in smooth circles.

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to feel your ass,” Anne-Sophie buzzed as she again kissed me lustily on the lips. “Have you ever done that before?”

  “Only to myself,” I said between kisses.

  “It feels very nice,” said Anne-Sophie. “I want to show you.”

  I simply nodded and buried my face into her neck, kissing her soft flesh and nestling into her warmth.

  Anne-Sophie pushed her finger against my rear, tracing her fingertip up and down over my little knot, massaging its folds and clefts. With her other hand, she spread my ass open by pulling on a single cheek. I moaned as she fondled me, feeling my pussy start to drip and my breath quicken as Anne-Sophie gave my asshole a tender rub down.

  “Oh, I love it,” I sighed. “It’s so sensitive.”

  “Get your panties off,” she said, slowly pulling her fingers from my ass, letting them sweetly trail over my ass cheek.

  “Okay,” I said, sitting up now and quickly ushering my panties down my legs and off my feet. Anne-Sophie remained lying on the bed, watching me and smiling, her fingers running lazily through her soft pubic hair as though she were teasing herself.

  Wanting to take charge, as I returned my attentions to Anne-Sophie I lowered myself between her legs, rubbing my hands up and down over her heated skin, and dropping my head between her thighs. I gently kissed her furry mound once, twice, three times, feeling her hair on my lips. Warmth emanated from her pussy and I could see a subtle wetness between her slit, glimmering in the low light of the room.

  Opening my mouth, I stuck out my tongue and gave her pussy a long, slow lick, tasting the floral sweetness of Anne-Sophie’s blossom. I had been imagining myself doing it for so long that I quivered upon first lick. She bristled as I licked her, as though it tickled her, sighing and squirming into the sheets while I eagerly lapped my tongue against her pussy.

  “Lorna,” she cooed. “Oh, that is so nice. So very nice.”

  Her approval increased my own arousal and desire to please, growing the fervor of my licking and attention to her sweet-tasting pussy. I began to prod at her lips with my fingers, trailing my fingertips through her slit and feeling the moisture within.

  “Touch my ass,” she murmured, her legs spreading more to give me greater access.

  With my lips suckling on her clit, my tongue occasionally lapping at her glistening pussy lips, I moved my fingers down further. Coated with the wetness fro
m Anne-Sophie’s pussy, my fingertips traced softly over her taint and explored between her ass cheeks until I found her tight little dot. My heart was pounding with excitement, having never touched another woman’s ass before, and I eagerly dove in, mimicking the motions I felt Anne-Sophie do to me. I massaged her hole in slow, wet circles and could feel every small fold and ridge of her taut little dot.

  So transfixed was I on her ass, I lifted my head back from her pussy to watch myself fondle her backside while Anne-Sophie wriggled into the sheets, loving the feeling of attention to her rear. Her beauty hypnotized me, the lust I felt for her intense, and I lifted one of her legs into the air to spread her backside out and quickly dropped my face again between her legs. This time when I unleashed my tongue, I flung it enthusiastically against her asshole, lapping her backside with steady and sustained licks.

  “Mon dieu!” Anne-Sophie exclaimed, her hands moving to her own breasts and fondling herself in ecstasy. Her hips lifted up off of the bed as I continuously licked at her asshole, tasting the subtle flavor of musky sweat melded with the sweetness of her pussy. The more I licked her backside, the more I loved it. My pussy creamed in delight, growing sopping wet and oozing out velvety drips of grool as the arousal inside of me increased tenfold.

  I held onto Anne-Sophie with one hand, letting my other hand adoringly massage her pussy, my palm rubbing back and forth through her dampness, while my tongue slid through her ass crack and knocked at her backdoor. I couldn’t believe that I was here in my childhood bedroom, home for Christmas Eve, licking the asshole of the girl I’d been lusting after for so long. I never wanted this moment to end.