Very Sapphic Erotica: When Cleo Met Marissa

It wasn’t any one thing about her, it was everything. Her smile, the way she blatantly disregarded anything said by a man. The way her eyes glazed over until a woman spoke up, and then she was all ears. I met her at a DSA birthday party. I hadn’t intended to make friends, but there I was, holding court. I was the new face in the group and everyone was curious how I’d ended up at this niche socialist apartment party. She wore a loose fitting hawaiian shirt with the top buttons opened to reveal a peak of cleavage. I tried not to stare, as much as I wanted to. Her soft bosom contrasted her androgynous outfit and buzzed haircut. I wanted to open her shirt and feel her skin against mine, but, wallflower that I am, I wasn’t about to make the first move. Thankfully, part of her charm was her forwardness, and to that end she strode right over to me. She didn’t need an excuse. She could go wherever she wanted. She flashed a sly smile and held out a hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t get your name. My name is Marissa.”

My heart quickened a bit. I took her hand, trying not to let it show.

“Cleo! Nice to meet you.”

“Cleo, I like that name. Do you drink, Cleo?” She asked.

“Yeah, I could drink.” I replied.

“I have a special bottle of red wine upstairs if that’s at all interesting to you.” She offered.

“Depends what kind of red.”

“Ah, I see. You’re a picky one.” She replied, smirking, “It's a 2007 Merlot from a vineyard in Valle de Guadalupe a friend of mine owns. I can give you more details if you’re still not sold.”

“Wow, impressive. “Merlot” woulda done it for me.” I laughed.

For a moment, it was as if we were alone, but as I accepted, I remembered we were standing in a group. It was clearly not an invitation for everyone, but apparently that message wasn’t clear to everyone.

“What about me? Do I get some Merlot?” asked a man beside us in a red t-shirt with Karl Marx’s face in the center.

“Not everything is about you, man.” Marissa replied.

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the group. She was taller than me. She took up space, and I loved being in her orbit. I watched her walking ahead of me as she led me upstairs. Beneath her boxy androgenous clothes I could make out the soft slope of her waist to her strong thighs. We turned down a hall and she opened the door to her room. It was plush with rich reds and gold tones, antique furniture, a Persian rug and a wall dense with paintings. Portraits, nudes, landscapes, animals, patterns. She walked over to an ornate little shelf and pulled out the bottle of red wine. She looked at me, then handed over the bottle.

“What do you think? Is it up to your standards?” She asked.

“Guess I won’t know until I try it.” I teased.

“Well, I truly hope you like it. It’s one of my favorites.” She said threateningly, as she locked eyes with me.

Her gaze was dark and piercing, with an intensity that made me blush and lose my train of thought. The sternness wiped clean from her face as she smiled, gravity melting to levity as she laughed at my expression.

“It’s not that serious! I just like it.” She said, slapping my leg.

“Open it already!” I demanded.

She maneuvered the corkscrew and pulled to lift the cork. Her toned arms flexed with the effort. The bottle opened with a satisfying “pop” and she grabbed two mason jars, pouring each of us a glass.

“Sorry, I don’t have proper cups. Maybe next time.” She said, handing me a jar.

Did she already want a “next time”? We had just gotten to this time. But she was so attractive. Her confidence and attitude. The way she flirted with me with brazen forwardness. Her arms, and the way when she leaned forward to hand me my glass, I could see just a little bit deeper into her shirt.

“Cheers!” I said, and clinked my glass with hers.

I brought the jar to my nose and inhaled, swirling the wine to aerate. I was pretending to be fancy. I didn’t know that much about wine, I only knew that I liked Merlots generally. Who was I kidding? I took a sip, and let it rest in my mouth, breathing through my nose. It tasted... like wine. It was good wine? But it wasn’t like I could taste blackberry notes or the oak barrel.

“What do you think?” She asked, finally.

“It’s good.” I replied, after some time.

“Just good?” She plied.

“I like it. It’s a good Merlot.”

“Wow, Miss Fancy Pants.” She chided.

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna come clean and say that I don’t know anything about wine. But I like this! And your room is really pretty.” I offered, blushing.

“I’m still calling you Miss Fancy Pants from now on. Ruse or not, I can tell you’re fancy.” She said, prodding me gently, “And thank you. I made all of those paintings.”

“You’re really talented.” I remarked, looking up at the wall of art.

“In more ways than one.” She added, smirking.

I took a longer sip of the wine, hoping to calm my very likely bright red flushed face down. I could feel myself getting hot. Had someone turned a heater on? Why was there no airflow in this room?

“Oh yeah? What other talents have you got?” I asked in an attempt to be smooth, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m very good with my hands, as a matter of fact. I’m actually a licensed massage therapist.” Marissa said, smiling at me sideways.

“I’m gonna need to see a certificate, ma’am.” I replied.

She pointed to the wall behind her, where lo and behold, there was a framed massage therapist certificate.

“Wow, you weren’t just making innuendos.” I said amazed.

“Not entirely. There’s still some innuendo in there.” She chuckled.

“Well that’s good. Otherwise I’d be missing out on the party for nothing.”

“It’s not a very good party, to be fair. I saved you from a mediocre time.” She said.

“I like confidence.” I said

“I’m very confident.” She replied, “So confident, in fact, that I’ll ask you directly: Do you want me to kiss you?”

God. She left it up to me. Of course I wanted to kiss her. Of course all I could think about were her lips, but I felt my voice catch in my throat. I coughed, embarrassed, turning red in the face. Very smooth. Instead of laughing, I saw concern cross her face.

“Let me get you some water!”

She hopped up and grabbed a water bottle from another nook. I drank it, still red with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” I choked out.

“You’re fine. I’ll remember to reel it in next time.”

She wiped a tear from my cheek. I was a mess, but I wasn’t going to give up that easily. I grabbed her hand and kissed it. I kissed her wrist, up her forearm. I noticed goosebumps spreading across her skin. I looked up to see her eyes upon me, with the smoldering intensity of someone restraining themself.

“Yes, I do want you to kiss me.”

It was all she needed. She pinned me down, pushing me onto the floor beneath her, holding me by my wrists as she pressed her lips against mine. Her breasts draped over my chest. Our breath and saliva mingled. I searched her teeth and tongue, wanting to feel completely immersed in her. My hips lifted, rising to meet hers, to feel skin on skin. I wanted to be on top as much as I wanted to be below her, under her control. She kissed the corner of my mouth, down my neck to my collar bone. I surrendered to her lips and her hands upon my wrists, her body against mine, fabrics twisting together. She pulled my shirt up with her teeth, dragging her lips against my stomach. Her tongue darted for my nipple, hard and wanting. She bit my nipple, lifting my breast, pain and stimulation branching from the apex across my chest, up my neck, down my ribs, dipping below my waistband. Her breasts were cool against my skin. Her stomach met mine, a thin layer of cloth separating our skin. I bit her lip, drawing blood. She pulled back, licking away a red bead.

“Let go of my wrists. I want to touch you.” I whispered.

She released her grip, and I clutched her soft buzzed scalp, pulling her closer to me. I wanted to know every detail of her head. She was so soft. I could stroke her skin for days. I explored her back, every mole, hair and stretch mark. I was intoxicated by her scent, swept away in it, trying to absorb my fill. I took her hand, this time holding it, interlacing our fingers together. I rolled on top of her, my thigh between hers, I could feel her vulva pulsing, hot and humid through the crotch of her jeans. I imagined the stiff seams sliding across her opening. She reached a hand into the waist of my pants, dragging her finger around until she hovered over my groin, threatening to reach inside my pants. I wanted her to go there. Open me. Touch me. Taste me. I kissed her neck, sucking gently enough to avoid bruising, I didn’t know how she felt about hickies. But I wanted to leave a deep purple circle on her skin.

“You can mark me, just not there.” She murmured into my hair.

She read me. I sat up, assessing where on her body I would leave my reminder to call me later, because this couldn’t just be a moment. I selected a spot under her breast, a bit of delicate tissue to turn purple and blue. I sucked as hard as I could, alternating between sucking and biting, she groaned in joyous pain.

“Take it. Take me.” She said, “It’s all yours.”

I wanted it. I wanted her. Every inch of her. I moved from below one breast to below the other, biting and sucking, gripping her hips as she writhed against me. I was trembling as I removed her shirt and mine. My clit was so hard, everytime I felt her get close to touching me, I clenched in anticipation.

“Fuck me.” I demanded.

“Take off your pants,” she demanded in turn.

I obeyed, and stood up to unbutton my jeans. I slid them down, and folded them because I’m neurotic about that stuff.

“You’re such a freak,” she laughed.

“And you like freaks,” I replied.

I was a little salty, but the horniness won out. I wanted her inside me. I felt a tremor of desire travel out from my groin. I stood in front of her almost naked. She knelt beside me and looped a finger around the crotch of my panties, pulling them down, exposing me. She hooked a finger inside me and began fucking me slowly, barely rocking out of me, the broad of her thumb pressed against my clitoris. She pulled me down by my cunt, onto the floor beside her. She pinned against the wall, and I accepted, letting her take me, feeling my wetness on her hand. She looked down at me, fucking me, her eyes full of mischief and desire.

“I wanna feel you cum on my fingers, my little slut. There’s nothing I love more than a sensitive little pussy like yours.”

My breath caught. Somehow it felt so good. I wanted to be her little slut.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet. You’re so fucking wet right now.” She moaned and began unbuttoning her pants.

I pulled them down and reached for her panties, but she swatted my hand away as she continued fucking me. She sat her exposed cunt on my thigh and began thrusting against me. She was deliciously warm and wet. I wanted to use my hands, to be inside her. But she was in charge. Instead I pressed my thigh against her, propelled forward with pleasure and desire. I heard the wet clicks of her fingers sliding into me and felt her vulva, pulsing against my thigh. She shook, thrusting her hips, wanting more. I managed to extract a hand and I snaked it behind her, first gripping her back, then reaching under her ass, making my way into her pussy. Finally I could feel it all. I could feel her muscles tensing. Clenching and unclenching. She pressed into my hand nearly breaking my wrist, but I wanted to go deeper. She tossed her head back, and I took the moment to gather her nipple in my mouth. I wanted her in every part of me. I felt the edge coming, but I didn’t want it to end yet.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” I exclaimed.

She pulled back, startled.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” She asked with concern.

“No, I just don’t want to come yet.” I smiled, bashfully.

She let out a peel of laughter.

“I’m glad that’s all it was!”

She leaned in and kissed me more tenderly. I held her in my arms and explored the gentle folds of her back. My whole body tingled. I needed to calm down a bit.

“I like that you’re on the edge.”

“Now I’m embarrassed!”

“Don’t be.” She smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear, “I like that you’re hot for me.”

She kissed me again, thrusting her tongue down my throat and pulled me onto the floor. She straddled my thigh and began rubbing her pussy against me again.

“Do you mind if I keep playing with myself while you cool down?” She purred.

I watched her slide up and down, her cheeks flushed with arousal. I didn’t think it was possible, but her arousal inched me even closer to coming even though she wasn’t even touching me. Just seeing her was enough. I took a deep breath, listening to the slick sound of her pussy as she grinded against me, paired with her shallow breaths. She paused again.

“Is it okay?” She asked.

“Don’t stop. You feel so good.”

I shut my eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. I felt her leaning over me. I brought my knee up to keep her pressed against my leg as she inched her thigh up to my lips. It was all I needed. Her warmth. Her soft skin. Her humid breath on my neck. Her breasts against mine. The urgency of our bodies writhing against one another. I felt the edge of my climax creeping into me. I grabbed her hand and forced her fingers into me.

“Fuck me!” I demanded.

And she fucked me, hard and fast as I pulsed around her. I stared into her eyes as the orgasm took me. I saw her own arousal heighten. I reached again to be inside her, using my palm to stimulate her clitoris. The bliss of coming melted away into steady focus as she grabbed my wrist, pulling me in deeper, guiding my rhythm. I followed her, every bit of me focused on her face and the little changes in her breath. Suddenly she went silent, and then began moaning loudly.

“Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!!”

Her mouth opened and her eyebrows pursed as she writhed on top of me. Her pussy clamped around my hand. She dug her fingers into my chest. I hoped she would mark me too. And when the final pulse coursed through her body, she slumped over me, her whole body relaxing. I extracted my hand and licked my fingers. Her body fit perfectly against mine and I wanted to hold her there as long as I could.

Then I noticed laughing downstairs, and remembered where we were and how we had literally just met an hour ago.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She said, as if plucking the words from my mouth.

“I know. Oh my god, who are we?” I asked and burst into a fit of giggles. “Do you think they heard?”

“Of course they heard, and they’re lucky. Every time lesbians fuck an angel gets its wings.”

“You’re too funny.”

I paused, staring at her seriously. I didn’t want this to be a one night event.

“Don’t look at me that way. You know where I live, you might as well come back.” She said, reading me as if the words were written on my forehead.

“Promise?” I asked.

“Nothing in life is promised, darling.” She said and winked at me.

~Fin~