Sweet Cherry PieSweet Cherry Pie


All participants are of legal age.


Wendy had been a friend of my brother’s from high school. She was two years younger than me and I didn’t meet her until we were both in our early twenties. The woman was adorable. She had liquid chocolate eyes that sparkled whenever she would flash her impish grin. She was petite, with the body of a ballerina, thin and toned with tiny pert titties that were capped by the most virginal looking pale pink nipples. She was quick to giggle and always got a bit misty-eyed when she had a few cocktails. Wendy was a Jewish American Princess, spoiled by her daddy, who owned a kosher butcher shop in Garden City.

Wendy and I hit it off right away. This was back in the mid to late seventies, the era of free love, and everyone in our clique was doing everybody else; we mixed and matched sex partners with giddy abandon. The kamikaze parties got everyone loose and we all did some interesting experimentation, mostly in my basement apartment, where we would cover the floor with mattresses and have huge make-out parties that ended up as near orgies more often than not.

We were a very horny and close-knit group, with no jealousies between us. It all seemed so open and natural. The greatest part…absolutely no shame or inhibitions about it at all. Most of us still remain friends today, though we do not speak of those hot sessions of our past. It was a regular Peyton Place, and my apartment was ground zero because even though we were all beyond the age of consent, most still lived with their parents, in order to save money.

Wendy had curly medium brown hair. The ringlets framed her delicate features and lightly sun burnished complexion perfectly. All the men adored her, she wasn’t beautiful, she was cute as could be and carried with her an air of innocence. That was what was so charming about her, and what attracted me.

One day, we had driven to her Dad’s butcher shop to get some meat for dinner. We stopped at her college campus for a while and smoked a joint in front of the English Tudor style cottage which served as the library annex. It was a beautiful late spring afternoon; the sweet scent of flowers and marijuana filled the air and the sun slung low, causing the tall trees to cast long shadows across the lush emerald green lawns.

We headed back to Dix Hills in her flashy blue Camaro. Wendy was the only one of us who had unlimited funds, from Mom and Dad. She loved to treat all her friends, to things we couldn’t otherwise afford. We wouldn’t have loved her any less if she hadn’t. Nobody was home when we delivered the meat. It was the first time I had been at her house, in the affluent neighborhood, all the way on the other side of town.

We sat in the backyard and smoked more of the joint. The weed was good and the conversation started to flow. We moved into the living room, me on the couch, and she sitting in a half-lotus position on the floor at my feet. Wendy told me that her sister thought she might be gay, and she was curious about that, but afraid to embarrass her sister with a bunch of personal questions.

I was the adviser of our group. Everyone came to me with questions and problems, looking for down-to- earth information and advice. She naturally asked me if I knew anything about lesbians. Well, most of what I knew was from books, though I had done a bit of same sex exploration with my best friend in college, but I was no expert, and at that point, had not come to my later realization that I was bisexual.

The more I told Wendy, the more interested she became. I could see her nipples getting stiff under her soft cotton sweater. She licked her lips and flipped her hair, and looked up at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. God, she was so damn cute. No wonder all the guys wanted to get into her pants. Her Mom and sister got home a little later, so we moved from the living edirne escort room, to her bedroom – one that was fit for a princess.

We talked for what seemed like hours, and then she went down to ask her mother if I could stay for dinner. After dinner she asked if I would like to sleep over. I figured what the heck, we were having a good time and neither of us wanted to drive all the way across town to get me home. I still hadn’t a clue of what was to come, but now that I look back, I think she may have engineered the whole thing. Perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as she looked.

We changed into a couple of pairs of her baby doll pajamas. They had cute little cotton panties and gauzy pastel smock tops that barely came to the bottom of our taut young asses. She looked at my full breasts straining against their thin cotton covering, and announced that she hated being cute. She wanted to be sexy like me. I was taken aback. I had never been called sexy by a woman before.

I assured her it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and that she was much better off with her cute little figure. It fit her personality to a tee, just as my ample curves and well-toned body fit mine. But I knew what she meant; men dubbed me a “super vixen”, and treated me accordingly; while Wendy was treated like a fragile porcelain doll. We each admired and envied what the other had.

Wendy and I talked about anything and everything, as women do. We heard the rest of her family go to bed, but continued, whispering, for another hour. We finished off the joint we had started earlier that day, blowing the smoke out the window and into the dark night. Wendy complained that she had a crick in her neck and that her back was starting to spasm. Of course, I offered to give her a massage to work the kinks out, but I knew what she really wanted.

I prepared the room while Wendy watched me, rubbing her neck with one hand and directing me with the other. “You should light that candle over there and turn the light off; it’s hurting my eyes.” I lit the pale pink cylinder and a sweet, delicate scent, that reminded me of the strawberry lollipops I loved as a kid, began wafting across the room. I turned the lamp over her desk off and the walls were suddenly filled with our flickering silhouettes. She started making shadow puppets with her hands and giggled.

I pulled the plush comforter off Wendy’s bed and spread it out on the floor. Wendy’s eyes followed my every move. I grabbed the pillow from her bed and placed it down at one end of the comforter. The Bruce Springsteen music we had been playing at a fairly low volume was not conducive to relaxation, so I switched it off and turned on her clock radio, fiddling with the dial until I found the Stony Brook campus radio station. The DJ always played mellow jazz late into the night, and I had already developed a taste for this music when making love with my boyfriend in his dorm.

“Do you have any massage oil or lotion I can use, sweetie?” She went into her bathroom and came out with a tube of cocoa butter suntan lotion. “How about this?” I opened it and put a bit on my palm, rubbing it in. It smelled vaguely of chocolate, and blended well with the candle’s scent. “I guess this will have to do.”, I whispered. “Now lay yourself down on your stomach with your arms stretched out on either side of your head.”

She crawled onto the comforter and stretched out with her chin resting on the pillow. “My neck and back really hurt; I hope you know what you are doing.” Oh, I knew what I was doing, but did she?

I squeezed some of the cold lotion into my hands and rubbed them together to remove the chill. I didn’t want to shock her system and cause her muscles to spasm from the cold contact. I knelt over her and slid my hands up under her pajama top, applying firm pressure on both sides of her spine from the top of her panties and up to her shoulders. cansoc.org She let out a soft groan. I smiled. I kneaded her neck and shoulders with my thumbs seeking out the tiny kinks and knots, smoothing them out with gentle, but persistent persuasion. I tried to work my way down her arms, but the pajama sleeves were too narrow.

“Wendy, honey, if I am going to do this right I will need you to take off your top for me.” She opened her eyes, pushed up from the comforter and onto her knees, lifting her top off over her head and tossing it aside in one fluid motion, then returned to her former position. Her nearly naked body stretched before me.

I went to work in earnest now, massaging and stroking the long muscles in her back, working my way up and then down again in a rhythmic motion. Her tanned back was beginning to glisten with the warmed cocoa butter. I continued up, working her shoulders and arms, right down to the tips of her fingers and then back to concentrate on her neck. She began to moan louder as the muscles surrendered to my insistent fingers.

I worked my way down her back and onto her dancer’s legs. They were firm and toned and perfectly shaped. I added a little more lotion to my palms. I worked my hands up from her ankles to the elastic legs of her panties, with both my thumbs pressing up the center of the back of her leg. Up one leg, and down the other, then up that leg and down the first. I massaged her feet, as I had massaged her hands. She continued to sigh with contentment. I took that as a good sign.

I spread her legs apart and knelt between them, stroking both her legs at the same time and working my hands up her back, but the panties kept breaking my rhythm and were really just in the way, so I eased them down her legs and pulled them off. Her sweet cheeks were white as snow and shaped like an apple. There was a fine, downy peach fuzz at the base of her back, just above the crack of her firm ass.

I continued to massage her legs, working from the ankles, pressing and kneading up towards her ass, then massaging her butt and continuing on up the back to her neck, shoulders, and arms and then back down again. I pulled my top off so that she could feel my warm skin brushing along her torso as I reached to minister to every inch of her body, and I began allowing my thumbs to gently brush the edges of her pussy, as if by accident, as I worked her thighs.

As I met no resistance to this “accident” it began to happen more often, and became deliberate. She sighed and moaned each time I made contact, and seemed disappointed if I avoided that sweet cleft to keep up appearances that I was merely massaging her back.

I could see that the lips of her pussy were parted and her soft pink inner lips looked like petals, dewy with her juices. She was ripe and warm and ready to be picked, and I was aroused by the sounds of her moans and the signs of her willing surrender.

“Wendy, turn over for me, I want to work on your front.” She slowly turned over, never opening her eyes, and lay her head back down on the pillow. I added more lotion to my hands and started at her feet again. I worked up her calves and thighs, but avoided her juicy snatch which was covered with soft brown curls that matched the hair on her head.

I worked her arms, and sides, then rubbed her solar plexus in a circular motion. She sighed and cooed. I could see that her nipples were hard and erect. I cupped her breasts in my hands and massaged them firmly and then, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I lowered my mouth to her breast and sucked her nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. She took in a deep breath, shuddered. and let out a very loud moan.

“Shhh, your parents will hear us!” I whispered to her. I took her other nipple in my mouth and nibbled it a bit. She let out another, deeper moan. “Wendy, you have to be quiet, shhhh.” She took the pillow from under her head and put it over her face to muffle the sound because she couldn’t help herself.

I rolled her pretty pink nipples between my thumbs and forefingers as I kissed my way down the center of her torso, stopping to flicker my tongue inside her navel. I took my hands and parted her thighs a little more. The inner lips of her gash were a deep pink and glistened with her juices in the candlelight; they looked delicious.

I slipped my middle finger gently into her, palm up and gently stroked her G-spot inside. Her pussy was tight and made a sucking sound as I slowly pumped my finger in and out. I slipped a second finger into her and as they massaged her inside, my thumb worked her clit in a circular motion. She whimpered and raised her ass up to press her juicy cunt against my hand.

I lowered my head between her legs and licked my way up the inside of her thighs. The cocoa butter tasted a little sweet and smelled delicious, but not nearly as good as what was to come. I took in a deep whiff of her quim and blew my hot breath on it. She smelled like fresh baked bread and chocolate. No wonder the French love pain au chocolate, I thought to myself.

I stuck out my tongue and gave a quick lick to her fully erect clitoris. She gasped, “Oh my God, oh my God!” I sucked the hard button into my mouth and made circular sweeps around it with my hot tongue as I sucked and nibbled the nub between my lips.

Her nectar was sweet and was dripping onto the comforter, making a large, wet stain. I plunged my fingers into her vagina, wetting them with her slick juices and then inserted one part way into her tight ass and my thumb into her pussy. I pushed up on her bush with my other hand to stretch her pussy lips out of the way so I could eat her properly.

I sucked her clit as if it were a miniature cock, swirling my tongue around its head and lapping at her pussy like it was an ice cream cone. She was really cranking into high gear now, and the pillow was not really containing her squeals of delight.

She lifted her ass off the ground and was grinding her pussy against my mouth. My nose was buried in the crook at the top of her snatch and I kept my firm grip on her clit, but had to abandon her ass hole so I could cup her ass cheeks in support.

I began working my nose back and forth at the top of her quim as I worked the clit with my lips and tongue. I was nearly drowning from her juices, which were smeared all over my face. She was sweet and salty and I swallowed as much of her nectar as I could. It was getting hard to breathe in there as she bucked her ass up and down, mashing herself against my face as I worked it back and forth in her hot, sticky gash..

Her whimpers went silent as she began to hold her breath. All her muscles began to go taut and I could feel her love button get even harder against my tongue as she strained against me. I slipped my finger back in her ass and pumped it in and out to the same rhythm my tongue was flickering on the rock-hard nubbin.

Suddenly her clit was fluttering as it pumped itself between my lips. Her asshole puckered tight around my finger as her entire body shuddered. I pulled my finger out with a “pop” and she groaned in ecstasy as she came and came again. The pillow did little to stifle the sounds and I was sure her parents were going to burst in to investigate.

Wendy sat up with tears streaming down her face and a grin from ear to ear. She kissed me passionately, tasting herself on my tongue and lips. “Thank you so much, Gigi. I think that was the first orgasm I have ever had!”

“Are you kidding? I wiped her juices from my face with my pajama top, then slipped it over my head to cover myself.

“What are you doing? Now it’s your turn!” I was too afraid that someone was going to walk in on us, with all the racket she made, and I knew I would not be able to be quiet either, so I told her I was really tired and just wanted to go to sleep. She was disappointed, but I think we had both had enough excitement for one night.

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