My first impression of Lydia the lesbian is softness.
She’s not like master. Or John.
Her fingers are not rough or hurried. She takes her time with her strokes. It almost feels like she cares about my pleasure. Perhaps it’s just a lesbian thing.
“You’re such a tiny, little thing,” she traces the outline of my face with those long, manicured fingers of her. How much do manicures cost these days? “A girl like you… I could fit you in my pocket.”
She’s teasing. When she kisses me, I feel genuine pleasure. Her lips are pillow soft. They move gently over mine. Her tongue sweeps inside my mouth and she licks me up with a skill that must stem from years of experience.
I moan in her mouth. My vision blurs and it hits me so suddenly, that I’ve never been kissed until now. And no, master spittin
