Kathy is Different Ch. 02

She was giggling while I lay there gasping, my entire body tingling from my first true orgasm as a woman.

"Are you all right, Kathy?" she asked, brushing my cheek with her fingertips.

"I'm," ((pant)) ((gasp)) "a little overwhelmed."

"Well," she said, giggling again as she found my now-soft dick with her hand and began rolling it, "good, because once you catch your breath I want that pretty mouth of yours."

"I won't," ((pant)) "start saying," ((gasp)) "no to you," ((cough)) "at this point."

She kissed me, a lingering, very soft, very gentle kiss.

"Was I really your first?" she asked.

I drew a deep breath and said, "Yes, and thank you."

She caressed my breast and rolled my nipple.

"I'd still kill for your boobs," she said and I giggled.

We were lying in the afterglow and, for me anyway, in an entirely new sensation. What I could coax from my own body was fun and felt good but paled into insignificance compared to what I had just felt.

"Feel free to play with them," I managed, still struggling with my oxygen debt and my breathing.

She kissed me, a gentle, lingering kiss, and then did a credible imitation of Bela Lugosi, the original Dracula, when she leaned her head back, opened her mouth, letting a little drool run over her lower lip, and then bent forward like old Bela going for a throat.

She latched on and started nursing. Maybe "suckling" is a better word. The pressure was immediate and intense, her lips sucking and pulling more tissue into her mouth while her tongue was massaging my nipple against the roof of her mouth.

"Oh, Jesusssssssss," was all I could manage.

She released me, lifted herself onto her arms, and grinned down at me.

"Nuh-uh," she said.

She nipped my earlobe, drawing a yelp and a giggle, "Your mouth, Kathy, I want your mouth."

She laid back, lacing her fingers behind her head, and smiling at me.

"Well?" she asked.

I had recovered, well, at least I had paid my body's oxygen debt. Recovery would require some time to think and, as the phrase I would later learn went, "process."

But I wasn't too spent to give her what she wanted.

Let me try that sentence again.

I wasn't too spent to let myself indulge in something new and, I desperately hoped, give her what she wanted.

I pushed myself up to sit back on my feet and brushed some imaginary hairs away from her face, holding her eyes, and watching her grin slowly morph into a true smile.

I bent, moving very slowly, letting the distance between us close in a dramatic fashion. Well, I hoped all of that was true. I was working mostly from movies, chick-flicks, I had seen and what she had done earlier.

I started the kiss with a light brush of my lips, moving my face gently from side to side as if I was saying "no," and slowly increasing the pressure. I touched her lips with my tongue and she met it with hers.

When I felt her move, starting to reach around me I leaned back quickly and caught her wrists in my hands.

"Nuh-un," I said, mirroring what she said earlier.

"Relax, Nancy," I said, leaning forward, my weight overmatching any leverage she might have, and pressing her hands against the pillow beside her, "Relax. Let Kathy do the work."

Something about talking about myself in the third person sent a tingle to my groin and I felt the first stirrings of an erection.

She smiled.

"Are you sure I'm your first?" she asked.

"I'm a quick learner," I said, "Now relax and hold still or I'll stop."

"You're the boss," she said, and I could see her relax, her eyes closing slowly, a happy smile on her face.

Nancy's not a "big" girl in terms of the Big Beautiful Women you see on the porn sites (yes, I peek at them). But she's tallish for a woman at about five-eight, matching my own relatively tall height, with the broad shoulders of an athlete. Her breasts, a B cup that overflowed but didn't quite qualify as a C cup, seemed small on her relatively big body. They would have been oversized on, say, a tiny elf like Millie.

When I was sure she was fully relaxed I began kind of following what she had done.

I used my tongue to trace the soft skin on the inside of her upper arm from her elbow to her armpit, the stubble there scratchy. I giggled and lifted my head to smile at her.

"I think I'll throw away your razor," I told her.

She giggled, but then took a deep breath as my lips found her nipple, a bit bigger than mine, and took it into my mouth as she had done with my nipple. I played like that but, well, I wanted more.

I kissed my way down her belly, making her giggle and squeal when I probed her belly button with my tongue.

It was as I got to that wonderful fork in her legs with its amazing scent though, that I realized what Nancy meant when she called herself "bisexual." I always thought of myself as a girl and, well, my family was pretty conservative, and if I was a girl, well, what I was doing right now was wrong. I had dated only boys and, honestly, hadn't felt any interest in girls and God knows I had the opportunities. Casual, well, experimentation, was common on the softball and volleyball teams and I had been invited to join in. But the taboo had been too strong for me.

Here I was, 19 years old, and that wonderful womanscent of Nancy's arousal had my Y chromosome overriding the demands of my ovaries combined with the Bartholin's and Skene's glands deep in my belly. I was reacting to her as a male and I was loving it. My penis was harder than it had ever been and for the first time, the glands in my belly were giving me the kind of urgency I have always imagined boys feel. I was, in other words, a young man with boobs rather than a young woman with a dick.

I moved around to get my knees between hers and bent to give her my mouth as she had asked.

But first I looked.

I own a mirror and I'm as curious as anyone. I knew what I looked like between my legs. I knew my anus, my perineum, and the flap of skin that was my empty scrotum. I knew the way my hair grew down there. I knew the lines where my thighs met my body. Given my unique body characteristics and the unbalanced hormones they caused, you could say I was obsessed with it and I wouldn't argue with you.

But this was the first vagina I had ever seen outside of pictures.

And I was captivated by it. I loved the shape of her full outer nether lips, the labia majora if you're into the proper nomenclature, plump enough that the entry to her sex was a mere slit. I loved the way her dark, thick, curly hair was very thick along the full swell of those lips. I liked the stubble where she trimmed, but not recently.

I kissed those lips and inhaled her delicious womanscent deeply. My Y chromosome was in charge, the rush of sensation as my nipples brushed her thighs when I bent to kiss was just a sweet addition to what I was experiencing. It was my dick, no, my cock since my Y chromosome was in charge, that was the center of my sex right then.

This was my first time with a woman, but some things just come naturally.

I blew, lightly, and her legs parted wider.

I used my fingertips, just my fingerprints contacting those full lips, and gently parted them. A spiderweb of silvery threads connected them as I saw, for the first time the delicate petals of a woman's inner lips, those pink labia minora looking so much like lips they begged to be kissed.

I kissed them and she shivered.

I gently pushed her outer lips together and then parted them again, fascinated by those threads connecting them.

Being careful, almost like I was trying to capture a wounded bird without hurting it more, I touched those inner lips and parted them, wanting to, well, I know it sounds crazy, but wanting to see inside of her.

My breath caught when she hissed a soft, "Yessssssssssssss."

And I felt a sudden wave of jealousy. She was so beautiful, so pink, so perfectly female and so utterly feminine. And I knew that for all of my breasts and hips, I would never have a man look at me like I was looking at her now.

I used my fingers to open her a bit more, rewarded with another of those soft, "Yessssssssssss," sounds, and there was her clitoris, a hard little pink button looking exactly like what it was, a vestigial penis. I blew on it and she made a little, "Unnnnh," sound. When I flicked it with my tongue the sound she made changed to a soft, "ahhhhhh."

She wanted my mouth and I wanted to give it to her, but first I wanted to see everything I could.

I leaned back, smiling a little as she sighed, I thought a little wistfully, and used my fingertips, gaining confidence now, to open her more.

It was pink and looked like a tiny mouth.

For the first time I saw a woman's cervix and, again, that sad feeling of jealousy hit me, hard.

It was right there. She was one of those women shallow enough that I would contact it with my erection. I could picture it in my mind. It was a beautiful pink tunnel into her core, to the center of her femaleness. It was shiny with the secretions of the mucus membranes that line her vagina and at the bottom of that little tunnel, the water-clear natural lubricant from her mucus membranes puddled and, as I watched, overflowed to run down her gluteal cleft, her asscrack.

I couldn't resist bending and tasting her.

And I found a new addiction. She was salty and sticky, kind of slimy if I'm being honest, as I pursed my lips and sucked like I had a straw. She was delicious. The salt taste of mucus was laced with spices and a hint of a tang as her pheromones filled my nose and covered my tongue.

I pulled back far enough to focus, enjoying the sheer feminine beauty of her sex when her body visibly tensed and that nectar, okay, that grool, changed. It was no longer clear, it was white and even thicker. The scent changed subtly too. I would later learn that her Bartholin's and Skene's glands had become involved as her arousal increased, and they were now adding to the lubricant as well as to the hormones and pheromones flooding the air.

I was lost.

I went down on her then, the oral sex as good as I imagined. Her taste intoxicated me. I drank her greedily, sucking gently, encouraging her pleasure.

Her fingers were in my hair now, pulling me to her, pulling my face deeper into her. The way she was twisting bordered right at the edge of pain.

I was wallowing in her. I loved the feel of her hot, sticky grool on my face and in my hair. I loved the taste of her as my tongue rolled her clitoris. I loved the scent of her as I breathed her pheromone-laden womanscent. I loved the way she looked, too close for my eyes to really focus, that mat of her pubic hair wet and curly with her excitement. I loved the sounds she made as my tongue probed and my fingers pulled her open even wider, soft gasps and sudden hissed "YES" sounds.

Her orgasm was everything I had hoped. I felt it building as her fingers twisted in my hair crossing that threshold to pain. Her voice started a high-pitched soft vowel sound without words, her body started trembling.

Her release, as her legs pulled back and her fingers pulled my face even deeper into her, was hot, liquid, very salty, and had a bit of an acrid undertaste. I drank her greedily, sucking her lips deep into my mouth, nursing at her like a hungry calf, drawing a second and then a third wave of ecstasy from her before she suddenly pulled me off of her.

Her fingers in my hair pulled me up to her and I was surprised as I shed my virginity that I didn't need to use my hand to guide myself. We fit perfectly and I slipped into her, feeling the resistance of her cervix I had been admiring before.

Her fingers were still in my hair as she pulled me down into a kiss.

I realized, deep in my mind, way down at the lizard brain level, that this was what my body was meant for. I kissed her back, my fingers moving to entwine in her hair, mirroring the way she held me.

I felt her squeezing, not cumming, not another orgasm, but squeezing on me, giving her man additional pleasure and encouragement.

I have no idea how long we held that kiss. Time had no meaning.

My sensations were so mixed up that I had no hope of really understanding them. My X chromosome was satisfied by the way I was inside of her as deeply as I could possibly be, my erection touching her womb, and her strong vaginal muscles holding me close. My glands, my mammary glands against hers, my Skenes and Bartholin's glands pumping secretions through my cock and hormones to flood my blood, left the girl in me breathless.

But it was my erection that won out.

It turns out that without testicles and their constant infusion of testosterone, relying solely on my prostate, Skene's, and Bartholin's glands, I have real, what the girls call, "staying power." I set up a rhythm, slow and easy, pulling out of her until I was almost clear and then slipping back in, slowly, gently, kissing her as I did.

As the pressure built so slowly in my belly, I could feel her body responding. Her hips were thrusting, her breath catching, her eyes going a little unfocused as I felt the sudden tension of her release. Her body arched against me, our breasts pressing against each other, her nipples hard against my mammary glands.

"God, you are beautiful," I said, softly.

And she was, her cumface gave her a beauty far beyond her normal girl-next-door prettiness. Her open, gasping mouth was inviting so I kissed it. Her forehead, wrinkled in her pleasure, was cute so I kissed it. Her eyes, scrunched tightly shut in her ecstasy were beautiful, so I kissed her eyelids.

She relaxed then, opened her eyes, gasped a deep breath, and pulled me down for a kiss.

I could feel my body, my girly parts anyway, joining her pleasure.

I felt the slight pressure as my Bartholin's and Skene's glands added their lubricant to hers, making us so slick the inventors of WD-40 would have been jealous if they could measure degrees of slickness.

That was the girly part of me.

My prostate, that last remainder of my, well, my "maleness" (well, except for my cock, right now deep inside of Nancy) was slowly swelling, my release, my, well, fulfillment of evolution's demands as a male, was building and I let it take over.

My kisses became harder, more demanding. She responded, kissing me back, her fingernails digging into my back hard enough that I wondered if she was drawing blood.

I thrust harder, my light dusting of pubic hair meeting her thick thatch with a satisfying impact that drew a grunt from both of us.

My second hard thrust like that pulled a soft "Yes."

That damn Y chromosome was in charge now. Each thrust was harder as that wonderful/terrible pressure deep in my belly grew more demanding. And each thrust was met with her, "Yes," "YEs," "YES," "YESSS," "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS," until we came together, almost violently. She was loud enough that our next-door neighbor pounded on the wall and yelled, "Hold it down in there."

That made us both giggle a little.

"I," ((GASP)) "canNOT," ((GASP)) "be your first," she said, meeting my eyes, her fingers still digging into my back.

"A certified virgin," I said, my own breathing pretty ragged, "If I had a vagina my first man would be able to hang the bloody sheets out the window."

Her eyebrows went up in a question and I laughed.

"Historical reference," I said, "I'll explain later."

I was softening and hating the fact that I was softening. I didn't want this to end. It was so much better than I had ever imagined.

"You must have a very active fantasy life then," she said, her breathing steadying now, "because you sure did that well."

I smiled and kissed her.

"Some things just come naturally," I said, pushing my hips forward, hating the way I was slipping out.

She grinned suddenly and I felt a sudden bunching of muscles as she squeezed and forced me out along with a sudden rush of her nectar and my ejaculate.

I couldn't stop the sudden little shudder that ran through my body.

I moved off of her then, settling beside her, sharing her pillow, moving close enough that our lips brushed, each tiny movement, each breath, becoming a minuscule kiss.

"Ohhhhhhhhh yeah," she said very softly, her fingers brushing my hair, "this is going to be a GOOD semester."

She might have said more, but I was asleep.