Posted by Menagerie on June 17, 2004 at 05:51:25:
AS ONE
The doorbell rang; Sharon straightened her clothes nervously, checked herself in the mirror over the mantel. She had only met Danielle a few weeks earlier, in the Library Science class Sharon taught as a graduate assistant; she was two years older than Danielle, but somehow the younger woman, just a junior, had seemed far more worldly, more with it. “Hello, yourself!’ she had replied to Sharon’s hesitant welcome, extending a strong hand and squeezing her own. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she continued, the eyes under the blonde bangs smiling as much as the wide, dimpled mouth. “I wanted to be in your class, so I asked for it. Special.”
As she introduced the class to the course, Sharon kept an eye on Danielle. It was mutual; Danielle seemed to be taking her in, head to toe. She was stretched out in the uncomfortable little seat, her long legs crossed and sprawled across the aisle, her chin resting on knuckles, her eyes rapt. The vivacious blonde was a half a head taller than Sharon, but slender as a rail and dolled up in the finest miniskirt and striped hose Donna Karan had to offer. Sharon was dressed conservatively, neatly, dully; she was envious…and atttracted. Finally, their eyes met; the younger woman, of all things, winked. A flustered Sharon was tongue-tied; the class titterred…and Danielle displayed that toothy grin.
They bumped into each other again at the Union Canteen, chatted over coffee. Danielle’s neon blue eyes never wavered from Sharon’s neat, well-kept face. They talked about school, jobs, the future. She had been to Paris, to Madrid; Sharon had never left the Midwest. “You’ve been around this campus a while,” the younger woman said. “I just transferred, from—“ a small school, private, for the proud and public-spirited. “Where do you go for fun?”
“There’s Chez Jack’s, downtown,” Sharon said, “and the Boiler Room’s good for dancing—if you dance.”
“Do you?’ Danielle asked.
“Not much,” Sharon admitted.
“Boyfriend?”
She looked down, stirred her coffee. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
Sharon looked up. Danielle’s face was frank, inviting…and there it was. Another wink.
The evening get together had been Danielle’s idea. “It’ll be fun,” she had said one day, after the class had left. “Listen to a few CD’s, tell a few ghost stories...”
Sharon half-smiled. “Do you like Beautiful South?”
“My favorite!” The blonde took both of Sharon’s hands in hers, looked at her eagerly.
Seven o’clock, Saturday night. Sharon’s place, a stone’s throw from campus, was as mild-mannered and responsible as she was. Sturdy, dependable furniture in earth tones; the table nicely set in plaids, a vegetable casserole warming. Sharon looked again in the mirror. A little broad in the buns, small breasts. A round face, stubby nose, a floppy ‘do and round-framed glasses. A little mouse, she had decided; a friendly, nervous little mouse.
She never made it to the door; Danielle merrily swung it open. “Cheers!” she announced, striding in and offering a bottle of red. “Let’s get girlish!”
Danielle disdained the kitchen for the living room; plates of casserole and glasses of wine balanced precariously, they sat first on the old couch, then found their way to the floor, close quarters. The talk was as it had been in the Canteen; Danielle going a mile a minute, Sharon with the occasional, delighted “No!” or “You don’t say!” It was as if she’d known the girl forever, as Jackie Abbott crooned in the background: “I want my love, my joy, my laugh, my smile, my needs”. It was really so easy, as hands on shoulders became hands in hands, legs against legs, lips against lips…
Danielle’s colorful dress slid easily from her slim frame; as she stepped out of it, her breasts, outthrust and true, shone in the reflected light from the street lamp outside the window. They had moved into the bedroom; Sharon lay on her back, dizzy from the wine, from the petting on the floor in the living room, from the night. “I’ll do you, dear,” whispered Danielle, sliding Sharon’s slacks past her hips, unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time. “You are so beautiful…have you been told?”
Sharon giggled, pulled Danielle to the bed. They embraced, arms and legs intertwining, tongues peeping out, then boldly filling mouths. They rolled; Sharon looked down, deep into those soulful, blue eyes. And then she was filled with the spirit; the veneer of mousiness, of prissydom, was cast off. Sitting up, she drank in Danielle’s long, elegant form, the finely curved legs, the ribs in shallow detail on her chest. “Danielle,” Sharon said huskily, and evenly, “I will make you mine.”
For the first time, it was the younger woman who was hesitant, uncertain. “Yes, of course,” she said, “I’ll be yours.” Their breathing was the only sound in the room.
Sharon began at her toes, those dainty little toes, nails a pale pink. She nibbled as she moved up the calves to lean thighs, to a womanhood as perfect as Sharon could ever imagine, a flavor so sweet. Danielle had watched nervously at first—the aggressor was in her blood—but had given way to Sharon’s skills, moaning in delight as her teacher very carefully, very thoroughly, used her tongue and teeth to caress that most tender flesh. They were carried away, transported to another place, another time…
And the time had come. Danielle was in Paradise, would agree to anything. Sharon said slowly, clearly, “Danielle…I said I will make you mine…I will make you a part of me.”
Danielle lay very still on the bed, groggy. It was the wine, the lovemaking…but it was something else. The older woman began to grow in her eyes. The freckles on her breasts, her navel, the hairs on her pussy…all became huge. Those soft brown eyes, staring at her from a mile away, a small smile flitting across her features.
“You will be part of me,” repeated Sharon, and with that she took Danielle’s left leg in her hands, placed it in her mouth…began sucking off the flesh.
Danielle felt no pain; indeed, she felt ecstasy. Sharon tasted the soft, supple, sweet flesh, so round and firm, chewing very carefully as the meat separated from bone. The mouthfeel!—It was as the most perfectly done filet, fibers of muscle separating neatly, lean meat from the young blonde’s calves, veins of rich fat between the muscles of her thighs and a thin, milky white layer of the stuff gracing her buttocks. Sharon smacked her lips several times, savoring the beautiful girl’s juices. There was another leg…
For Danielle, knowing she was disappearing into her lover’s gullet produced an erotic warmth she had never before known. The emptiness below her waist just made her that much lighter, airier; she managed to gasp, “Please…please, go on.”
Sharon had no intention of stopping; her love’s tender meat had her passions worked to a fever pitch. She turned to Danielle’s breasts, standing high on those bony ribs, devouring them as one would a rich dessert…each large bite rolled around in the mouth, the flavor almost an aroma, rising up into her head. With each mouthful, Danielle gave a small yip; she was coming! And for Sharon, it was much the same; she turned so she was crouched above the girl’s face. Danielle greedily took her in, using her mouth and tongue in a frenzy.
The belly. It was taut, no fat, yet soft and smooth. Sharon scooped with her bottom teeth; the meat came up like ice cream, and fairly dissolved in her mouth. Beneath her, Danielle’s efforts at pleasing Sharon took on an even more voracious nature; what remained of her beautiful body thrashed vigorously on the bed, enjoying a succession of orgasms. And Sharon also felt that ping!, her mouth half-full of Danielle’s belly, she arched her back, took a deep breath through her nose and held it as her body was wracked with joy.
From there, each portion of the blonde’s delectable body became another morsel of unique taste. Her shoulders were a fatty, succulent joint, a breakfast meat. Her back was thick and strong; strands of tissue unraveled as Sharon enjoyed Danielle’s sirloin, tilting her head and chewing with abandon. She shook her head, her hair swinging as she felt that richest cut of flesh give her entire body a jolt of glowing energy. “Dear Danielle,” she said in a low voice; the blonde, looking up, smiled feebly. “Sweet Danielle…may I take what is left?” The girl nodded, vigorously; this would be the last.
Sharon bent down and, so carefully, gathered into her mouth those tender lips. Her teeth felt as razors, shearing through the flesh cleanly; it lay moist and heavy in her mouth, Danielle’s gift to her, her very womanhood. It was as strong in taste as it should be, and Sharon again felt the simultaneous tensing and weakness of orgasm, as she swallowed the delicacy. She could stand it no longer; straddling what was left of Danielle, she threw back her head and wailed, a wail of supreme euphoria; she gripped at the last shreds of her love, now mere bones beneath her clawing hands…
No one, the faculty, the students. could get over the change. The nervous little mouse that had been Sharon was brash, brassy; it was as if she was trying to pull them all into giddiness with her love of life. Her tutoring took on a dynamic quality as she cajoled, enticed the class; she was…so worldly. So with it.
And after class, one day, there was a little sophomore. Frail, petite, with red hair, looking at her anxiously through wire-rimmed glasses. “Sharon?” said Madelyn. “I’ve heard so much about you. Are you going to the Canteen?”
Sharon grinned. And winked.