The Personal
ff oral

I sat at my desk, looking at the screen of my Compaq computer. The letters
of the ad, black on white, looked so artificial. I found it hard to believe
that this electronic wisp would result in what I had in mind.

The letters proclaimed "I have a desire. It is to become the best at making
a woman come. Orgasms traded for lessons... Your looks, age, race are all
unimportant. All I ask is that you be clean and healthy. As for myself, I am
5'8", with light auburn hair, hazel eyes, 40D-35-46. Funny how sinister
these ads come off, isn't it ;) On the lighter side, you will find me a very
eager and apt pupil. If interested, please email me."

It did sound awfully technical. Oh well. I supposed it would do. I pondered
it a bit longer, with my fingers paused over the keyboard. Then a few
keystrokes, and it was busily whizzing off to machines around the world.

It was late at night. I had the window open to let in the cool Texas air of
January. From nearby, I could hear cars passing by and the occasional train
on the tracks next to the apartment complex. I got up briefly to get a can
of soda then resumed my seat in front of the computer.

Prying the cold can open, I leaned back in my chair and perused the
newsgroups. Reading alt.sex was a labor of futility these days. Out of 200
articles, after beating my killfile, I had 40 left to read. Sad. It seemed
that sex was just not a cared about topic these days. However, racism,
swearing, and 900 numbers were hot topics. I didn't think Western
Civilization was coming to an end, but I did wish that newsgroups would
return to the happy days of the late 80s or early 90s, when commercial ads
and services were a rarity. The Internet was becoming the Crudenet.

Another sip of soda. Bubbles fizzed noisily as I set it back down. Hit the
"n" key. More text blazed past.

Why had I posted a personal ad. Well, long, droning histories of sexual
urges are never that interesting. Suffice it to say that I had been prompted
by my evil subconscious ;) As I walked to my classes, or went to nightclubs
with girl friends, I found myself looking at women with a smile. Their
beautiful bodies, soft hair, eyes, lips, the way they moved, the way they
smelled as they passed by, the silks or cottons they draped on themselves. I
also felt more natural around them, more alive. Ah, well, that all sounds
like women are alien to me. Nothing could be more untrue. I felt like they
were part of me, in some glorious, vague sisterhood, where the lesbian
culture was a welcoming haven.

At Waldenbooks, I poured over the "Social History" section, where they had
the lesbo books tucked away on the bottom shelves. At Hastings, I bought
_Dykes To Watch Out For_ and Pat Califia, along with a "cover" book on
gardening. I stuck a rainbow flag on my bumper and surfed the Web to look at
women-made jewelry, in the forms of labyrises, or goddesses, or rainbow
beads. So many little hidden symbols. The black triangle. The pink triangle.
Ancient fertility symbols and the axes of Amazons. It reminded me of the
Masons and their crests and rings...

Some time later, not immediately, I got a reply. Where did I live? Short and
to the point. No smileys. I pictured a curt mistress in black leather,
standing over my pleading form, holding a crop. She didn't say what she
looked like, which was fine with me. More mystery.

I cleaned my apartment, took out the trash, vacuumed, lit some subtle
incense. Put my bottle of white wine into the fridge after sticking the soda
cans on the bottom shelves.

I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water beat out the tension in
my shoulders. I was nervous. Yes, one of those baby dykes, who had never
been with a woman. But how I had thought about it. If all it took was neuron
power, I'd be the womanly Don Juan by now.

I brushed my teeth, blew my hair dry. Make-up? I had quite a stash of
Loreal, but decided against it. I laughed at myself as I stood naked in
front of my closet. This was not a date. Well, maybe it was, in a strange
kind of way. What to wear, hmmm. I pushed a gathered blouse outside, then a
earth-mother cotton dress. A black velvet mini and a satin blouse, nah.

I ended up sitting oh-so-casually on the couch in Levi's and a deep blue
scoopneck teeshirt, with dangly silver earrings. No shoes. I looked up at
the ceiling and realized the overhead was on. I ran over and turned it over
and flicked on a couple floor lamps, that threw a golden soft light upwards.
Much better.

I looked at the clock on top of the TV. I felt a little light headed. There
was the sound of a car in the lot. Was it her?

I heard a car door slam, and steps outside. Pause. I held my breath. A knock
that made me jump up like my alarm in the morning.

I looked through the peephole briefly. It was too smudged to really see her.
All I saw was long brown hair and a white shirt. I turned the locks and
opened the door with a smile.

"Hi, Ruby" she said with a grin.

I was in another world. She was... ohmigod, a real live woman RIGHT IN FRONT
OF ME. And we were going to...! Finally my brain took over and I shook my
head and pulled the door back further.

I laughed, then said "Sheila. Won't you come in?".

She moved past me and I caught the faint scent of musk. She sat herself down
on the couch and leaned back, looking totally at ease.

I crossed in front of her, very aware of how I moved, and went into the
kitchen. I opened the refridgerator, and peered in.

"Would you like anything to drink? Coke? Water? Wine? Any of the three
basics?" I leaned in towards her with a grin.

"Some wine sounds great," as she leaned forward to grab a book off the
coffee table. As she turned the pages in a glossy tattoo book I had, I
checked the glass for smudges or dust. Looked ok. I poured some of the wine
in, and felt the glass turn cold.

Giving her the misty crystal, I sat beside her and tried to look casual.

Sheila looked over at me. I looked back. She had long, golden brown hair,
very thick, that hung in wavy curls down past her shoulders. Rosy skin, and
a very curvy body. Sage green eyes, and on her sandalled feet, deep pink toe
polish. Long eyelashes. Ears that looked like fragile shells. A mole on her
right cheekbone.

"Do you have a tattoo?" she asked, pointing towards the book in her lap.

"I, uh, yep." Not exactly my shining moment in verbosity.

"Oh yeah? Cool! What of?" Her eyes shined, and she sat up further.

Hmmm! This was encouraging.

"A big furry red fox", I stage whispered. I raised my eyebrows.

"Let me see..." she said, leaning in closer. I felt like the big bad Wolf,
and I liked it.

I stood up, and took off my shirt. So much for that modesty hang-up! In my
bra, I sat back down with my back to her.

The fox was part of a large back piece I had had done a couple years ago.
Inscribed in a perfectly deep black circle, he wrapped around the inside,
with his tail, whiskers, and amber eyes in fine detail. The red ink had
bothered me for a while, but eventually my skin accepted it. The heavy black
fill-in had taken a few workings over, which were not the most comfortable
times for me, but it had been worth it. The red fur was smooth while the
black was slightly raised.

Suddenly, I felt her fingers on my skin. I jumped a little and laughed.

"It's amazing, really intense colors. I bet it was painful".

"Oh, well, one must suffer to be beautiful". I turned around a little
towards her with a smile.

Reaching towards me again, she unsnapped my bra, and pushed the straps off
my shoulders. I lifted up my arms and she slide it off and put it beside me.

"Much better", she whispered. Her hands smoothed over my shoulders and down
my back. I felt the hair on my arms stand up, and everything seemed much
crisper all of a sudden.

Deciding not to play coy, I turned around, put my hands on the side of her
face, and kissed her.

Warm, silky softness, mixed with the tangy acid taste of wine. She pressed
up against me, and I was surprised at the feel of her breasts against mine.
The feeling of velvety pressure of her breasts and the wetness of her mouth
was a revelation.

When we broke apart, I could feel my heart stuttering in my chest and the
slippery heat between my legs. I imagined I could smell myself. Maybe I
could.

I slowly pulled her shirt off, leaning in to taste her bare breasts. Her
nipples were a light coral color, almost imperceptible from the pale skin.
When hard, they only stood out a little. I played with the tips with my
tongue, then lightly bit them, which elicited a gasp and having my head
pressed against her. I repeated my nibbling treatment while unbuttoning and
unzipping her jeans. No underwear. This was a woman who dressed for speed.

I pulled away from her breasts with a grin. "Yummy." I noticed her face was
flushed, along with her nipples.

She raised herself off the couch a little and pulled down her jeans, easing
them down her legs, and folding them into a neat pile that she put beside
the couch.

"Eat me."

I gave her my attempt at a devilish look, and proceeded to do as commanded.
I moved off the couch, and knelt in front of her. She knudged herself closer
to the edge and lay back.

Dark, thick fur, and that smell. Oh God. Putting my hands on her thighs, I
opened them a bit more, then moved in. She was very wet. My first lick, from
the bottom to the top, was rewarded with a low groan. Ruby, this is it. Your
first woman. Oh, the taste... As I went on, I tried to think of analogies
but nothing came close. All I knew was that I craved more of it. The
saltiness made me savor the moisture, and the creamy texture stayed with me
as I enthusiastically licked her. After several searching tonguings, I
settled in on top of her clit, and put my lips around it in a circle,
sucking, while I flicked the tip of my tongue lightly over it... as fast as
I could. Sheila went into a paroxysm of twisting and bucking, whispering to
me words that made my thighs even wetter.

"Ah... God, oh... Mmmmm... AH! Yes! Please....". She reached down and
grabbing my hand, brought it to herself. I followed her lead and slowly
inserted two fingers into her, where they were engulfed by wet heat and an
indescribable silkiness.

Just when I thought she was going to come, she drew back, and put a hand on
my head.

"Wait", she commanded. She got up and went to my student futon, where she
lay back, and adjusted the pillow under her head.

"Have you ever 69'ed with a woman?" she asked.

Standing over her, still in my jeans, I shook my head no.

"Well, take off those Levi's, and get down here, girl."

"Yes, ma'am."

I shucked them off, and tossed them beside the futon. I climbed over her,
and gently lay myself down over her face.

All I wanted was to get my mouth back on her. As I did, I felt the first
tickle of her mouth. Her technique was excellent, and I found myself
hard-pressed to follow suit, with my mind reeling every time her fingers
pumped into me or her tongue slid over me. Trembling, I came, my face on her
thigh, gasping.

Coming back down, I resumed, letting my fingers slid inside her. I removed
my middle finger and pushed it gently into the slippery, puckered hole
beneath. Feeling both fingers inside her, moving at the same time, coupled
with my determined licking, she shivered and clamped my head between her
thighs.

I heard animalistic cries and groans, cushioned by strong thighs. Then, she
stiffened like a woman made of stone, and was very quiet for a second. I
felt her tighten around my hand and the quick, short little tremors ran
through her. Then more silence.

She let out a loud breath and laughed, pulling herself up.

"Damn, Ruby, I think I'll need to come here more often", she grinned, and
ran a hand through her tousled hair. She looked pleased. I was. Oh boy, was
I.

"Teach me, oh Obi Wan." I prostrated myself in front of her, and was pulled
up into a spicy kiss.

Things were looking up.