Adoring Her Starfish: A Lesbian Romance Collection

by Nico At Night

  Ellie’s motions were steady, firm, systematic, maintaining an even speed of penetration as her fingertips diddled atop my clit. I almost wanted to cry it felt so good, like I could just burst into joyous tears and pray to God that this feeling never end.

  My breathing synced up with Ellie’s pushes and a heated sigh escaped my mouth with each exhale. I was absolutely buzzing, mind inebriated, body sweaty and lax and acquiescent. Ellie was ruling me. I was completely hers in that moment. The humidity between my thighs was undeniable, my short pubic hair moist and flattened against my pale skin, my holes both dripping and compliant. I could feel a pressure building inside of me, a firm lump of compression within my middle, knocking at me and begging to be let out. It spoke to me in a vigorous cadence each time one of the knobs of the glass dildo entered or exited my asshole.

  My body wanted so badly, more than anything else, to come hard.

  I was whimpering now in pleasure, humming and whining as Ellie fucked me from behind in the most tender, yet impassioned way she could. I was stretched and wet, filled and bristling, absolutely teeming with the desire to forcefully burst out in a procession of orgasmic delight. I was disposed, my legs dangling over the mountainside, as I looked out at the gaping gorge in front of me, hands holding the edge, I could keep it in no longer and I pushed off, leaping out into the infinite unknown.

  “Ellie – fuck!” I exclaimed loudly, grinding my face into the pillow, my hips bucking, my backside squirming. My toes went totally numb as my feet dug into the couch. My undercarriage buzzed with intensity, prickly sensations of wonderment coursing through my ass and pussy, and clamored out with lusty groans as I traversed through that concentrated euphoric escape.

  As I felt my bottom half convulse, steady contractions of pressure, I also felt a strange wet relief of burden each time my body relaxed. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but at the end of each tightening, the release was accompanied by a moist squirt from my pussy, a clear spray from somewhere inside of me. It kind of felt like I was pissing but a bit different. After a couple of squirts, I heard Ellie laughing behind me and she threaded her hand between my thighs to try to block my squirting from totally drenching the couch below me.

  “Mary, you’re squirting,” said Ellie, still giggling. She held her hand against my pussy and released the glass dildo, still up inside of my ass, from her grip. Reflexively, my rim began to open up around the bulbs, releasing them one by one, until the toy finally flopped out of me and landed under me on the couch.

  “Oh God,” I moaned again. Ellie’s words began to sink in and I opened my eyes to look under myself. I saw a large wet spot on the couch cushion below. Ellie was tittering, her hand still tenderly petting my pussy, absolutely soaked. My squirting had ceased.

  “It’s okay,” Ellie murmured lovingly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Ellie shushed me sympathetically, still rubbing me, and my hips began to collapse down onto the sopping couch cushion underneath. My heart was racing, my breath intense, and I simply tried to focus on my breathing as the last haphazard shakes of lightning traversed through me.

  “You’re fine,” she said, slithering down next to me and wrapping her arms around me. Her warmth was satisfyingly comforting. Our bodies collided and I held firmly to her small frame, feeling our damp skin stick together as we cuddled. “You’re fine,” she repeated, kissing me on the forehead. My foot gave a little involuntary kick as I felt one more bristle of verve spin out inside of me.

  Even though the dildo had left my ass, I could still feel phantom pushes of it with each breath I released, my rear hole still feeling like it was open and ready. My body felt dazed, relaxed, like maybe I was going to melt into a liquid as my beautiful roommate Ellie and I nuzzled together there on the damp couch. She hummed at me, kissed, nestled her nose against the side of my head. The attention made me feel so utterly adored, so loved, and as we eased into each other’s arms, perspiring bodies meshing, all I could think about in my post-coital state was how eagerly I wanted to repay Ellie’s sexually nourishing fervor.

  My eyes drooped. I smiled. I longed for so much more.

  *

  Thank you so much for reading Adoring Her Starfish! I write these stories for you and sincerely hope you enjoy them. If you liked this story, please leave a positive review on Amazon and let me know what you loved most. Reviews not only help to inform potential readers of a good book, but they also let us authors know we’re on the right track. Writing and publishing is a tireless profession, and there’s nothing more rewarding than positive feedback from readers. Thank you so much for your support!

  Love,

  Nico

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  AN EXCERPT FROM: DORMITORY DEAREST

  *

  I NEVER THOUGHT college would be this weird. I mean, I was really excited about it leading up to the big move but I didn’t really know what to expect apart from what you see in movies. None of my close friends, of which I had few, went to the same college as me so it was like I was going off on this new adventure all by myself. Nobody knew me, I could reinvent myself if I wanted, I could be a totally new person and carve out a completely different path if I so chose. But once I got to school, I found that I simply couldn’t help but be me. Geeky, introverted, freaky me.

  Nerdy Natasha. Lucky I ended up in the same small arts dorm with all the other nerdy outcasts and not in one of the huge student ghettos filled with roving bands of bleached bimbos looking for an easy target like me to sink their teeth into. No, as an English major I had been asked by some benevolent cosmic force if I would like to enroll in the residential college for Arts & Letters students and without even knowing much about the program I dutifully accepted. The program was called ALOHA, which stood for Arts & Letters Organized Housing Association, and it was a total lifesaver for a girl like me.

  My dorm was quite small, being one of the oldest dorm buildings on campus, and was only three floors high as opposed to some of those much larger skyscraper dorms that peppered the huge campus of my midwestern farm school. It was like we had our own little sanctuary where we could just be us. All kinds were welcome but it was an overwhelmingly geeky atmosphere. I liked that. But, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t prepared for the level of geekiness. Much different than high school. These students had much more passion. More spunk.

  The beauty about my dorm, Leopold Hall, was that the entire student population within its walls were ALOHA students. It really was like we were on some island. Some island for weirdos. Totally awesome.

  So when I say that I never thought college would be this weird, I mean weird in a good way. Strangely exciting. Different. Filled with possibility and acceptance and with very limited, if any, judgment from peers. We were all just there doing our own thing. English majors and writers like myself, theater students, visual artists, the outcast art crew. It was a terrific amalgam of my university’s creative contingent and it was nothing like I had anticipated. Utopia, almost.

  And the things that happened to me, well, I couldn’t have anticipated them either.

  Each floor of Leopold Hall housed a different year of ALOHA students. So t
he freshmen like me were on the first floor, sophomores on the second, and juniors on the third. The third floor was much smaller than the other two floors and was all single rooms, rather than the doubles that the freshman and sophomores got. And generally that was fine because by the third year many students drifted away from ALOHA. I could see that it was a good program to start out in, to help you get adjusted to college life, but by the time you’re a junior you want to live off campus, spread your wings and all that. The way the years were laid out in the dorm worked out swimmingly. Girls on one side of each floor, boys on the other.

  And my roommate, Whitney, was a blast.

  “You know what’s awesome?” asked Whitney, sitting on the couch under our lofted beds wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, her dirty blonde hair twisted up tightly into a bun. Whitney was an outgoing theater major and I was happy to have been paired with her.

  “What’s awesome?” I asked, sitting sideways in my desk chair, avoiding working on a paper for my English class.

  “I felt like, in high school, most boys wouldn’t even give me the time of day,” she said, something I found hard to believe considering she was a pretty girl with an affable personality. “But here in ALOHA, all these boys are totally creaming themselves over me.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her.

  “You’re a nut,” I said. Watching Whitney fuss with her hair, I couldn’t help but fuss with my own hair in mimic. While I was a natural redhead, freckled and all, I dyed my hair a more vibrant red because it made me feel fun. Following Whitney’s lead, I pushed my own hair up into a bun and tied it in place with a piece of elastic from around my wrist.

  “What?” she said innocently, stifling a grin.

  “I just don’t believe that you had trouble with boys,” I said. “You’re totally lying to me.”

  “Well…” said Whitney, looking off sheepishly. “Maybe it’s just that I’m getting more attention here at college. It’s skewing my memory.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “I think I’m leaning toward Justin,” she mused, almost as though she were talking to herself. “He’s kinda beefy and brooding.”

  “Eh,” I said in an unimpressed tone. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” said Whitney. “He’s cute. He’s got that James Dean thing going on. Tight white t-shirts,” she said, almost giggling.

  “You’re so damn girly,” I said. Even though I said this is a bit of a derogatory way, I actually loved how girly Whitney was. She kind of balanced me out. And I knew that she knew I didn’t mean anything by it.

  “And you could take some lessons!” retorted Whitney with a snort, crossing her arms. “If you don’t think Justin’s cute, who do you like over on the boys’ side?”

  “The boys’ side?” I asked, feeling a little put on the spot and cornered. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  “There’s a lot of nerds over there,” Whitney admitted. “Can’t tear a couple of those dudes from their computer games. But there are definitely some hotties. You can tell me, Natasha. Who are you sweet on?”

  “Whitney,” I groaned with embarrassment.

  “Tasha,” said Whitney, impatiently awaiting my answer.

  “I don’t know,” I reiterated.

  “Fine,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, slightly acquiescing. “It’s that I don’t know. None of them, I think.”

  “What about Michael?” she asked. “He’s an English major, just like you. I like his long hair.”

  “No, I don’t like Michael,” I said. “He’s fine, I mean, he’s a good guy. But I’m not, like, sweet on him.”

  “People are already shacking up,” said Whitney matter-of-factly. “And a lot of the sophomore boys already have girlfriends. You’re gonna miss out, Natasha.” Whitney then had a brightening thought and her face lit up. “I bet you like a boy in one of your classes!”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, standing up from my desk chair and wandering over to my closet. Opening my closet door up, I fished around inside to find my sleeping clothes. With a slight flutter in my heart, knowing that Whitney’s eyes were on me, I cautiously pushed my jeans down my legs and began to change clothes.

  “The reason I’m pressing you on all this is because I care about you,” said Whitney. “You’re my roommate. We’re in this together.”

  “Thanks,” I said, pulling my jeans off my feet, standing there now in just a t-shirt sporting the university’s logo and my panties. I retrieved some athletic grey worn-in shorts from my closet and quickly pulled them up my legs.

  “And…” said Whitney, continuing, wagging a finger at me. “You know the ALOHA trip to Stratford, Ontario is coming up for the Shakespeare Festival. We’re all staying overnight there and it’s going to be a total fuck fest.”

  “Oh my God! Whitney!” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to just pick some boy so we can screw around during the Shakespeare trip.”

  “I’m just teasing,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But, you know, it’ll be fun to partner up with a boy on that trip.”

  “It’s not like we’ll be sleeping in the same room with the guys,” I said, turning from the closet and walking back over to her. As I walked, I slipped my hand inside my t-shirt and unhooked my bra, then deftly began maneuvering out of it and eventually pulling it out from my sleeve. “It’ll probably be you and me sleeping in the same hotel room.”

  “And just maybe I’ll slide down the hall to a boy’s room,” said Whitney with a grin. She was not impressed with my annoyed face. “Oh c’mon.”

  “I’m going to bed,” I said, stepping to the wooden ladder connected to our loft. Our beds were both lofted up near the ceiling, giving us a bit more space in the otherwise small dorm room.

  “Wait,” she said. “I’m sorry, Natasha,” Whitney admitted. “I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to like any of the boys on the other side of the hall. I’m just being a gossipy girl.” She frowned softly.

  “That’s okay,” I admitted, putting my foot on the first rung of the ladder.

  “Will you tell me when you do like a boy?” Whitney asked with a pleading tone. I could tell she just cared about me and wanted to be involved in my life. She didn’t have any kind of nefarious plot otherwise. She just liked talking about what she considered to be girly things.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a softness in my heart for her. She really was a sweet friend. “You’ll be the first to know.”

  *

  But I wasn’t being completely honest with Whitney. It wasn’t that I didn’t like any of the other freshmen boys on the other side of our dorm. It was that I hadn’t really thought romantically about a boy for a long time. The last time I remembered thinking that I liked a boy was probably early on in high school. But it was kind of short lived. I just thought he was interesting and when I told some of my friends that, they interpreted it as though I liked him romantically. And I went along with it, half-pretending I had a crush on him to satisfy the projections of my friends.

  I can admit that I was a bit of a late bloomer. I didn’t really date at all in high school and now that I was in college, feeling a new sense of freedom and excitement, I was ready to expand my horizons and find romance. But the problem was… I just wasn’t interested in the guys.

  Ugh. I feel like I’m being cagey and indecisive here. The truth is, dear reader, that as I aged and the idea of romance slipped into my brain, I always thought of other girls.

  I didn’t know how to say that out loud. Not to my family or friends, not to Whitney, and I sometimes found it difficult to even say it to myself. I know logically that a girl liking other girls isn’t really that big of deal. You see it on television and in movies all the time now. There’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. I was just having a difficult time saying it. I can’t explain it. The words wanted to jump out of my mouth, but when I parted my lips they just wouldn’t
exit. I was confident that I’d figure it out at college, finally come out of my shell, maybe even shuck this husk of introversion off my shoulders. But I had to wait until the time was right, you know?

  It was midday and there was hustle and bustle around the cafeteria, students filing in and students filing out. I had just returned from my morning English class and before getting lunch, I wanted to stop in at the ALOHA office in the basement of the dorm to chat with them about the upcoming Shakespeare trip. As I wandered through the lobby of Leopold Hall, I ran into Meghan, one of the other freshman girls in the program. We weren’t really all that friendly with each other yet, but we’d talked a couple of times.

  “Hey Tasha,” she said with a smile. Meghan was a music major, cute and kind of goofy. “Are you getting lunch?”

  “In just a few,” I said. “I’m going to go stop into the ALOHA office first.”

  “I’ll save you a spot at the table,” said Meghan. “What are you going to the office for?”

  “Just to talk and pay for my spot,” I said. “Do you know if it’ll be Sacco down there or someone else?” Anna Sacco was the head of ALOHA, a professor at the university, and a very smart lady. She was also a published and respected poet.