Sapphic Embrace: The Half-Japanese Girl (3 page)

But we didn’t watch much of
the movie at all. She surprised me with a kiss on the cheek that
soon voyaged to my lips, her strong tongue probing into my mouth. I
leaned back on the couch, the awkwardity between us flowing away
like the sound of the opening credits fading as the movie
began.

I don’t even know how we
became naked. It just sort of happened, and before I knew it, I
felt her flesh sliding against my own. Our history flashed through
my mind then — our chance meeting on the street, our casual fling
that grew hotter and hotter, our petty bickering that began flirty
and fun but became tiresome and hurtful.

I always thought she covered
up her body needlessly, and I was glad to see her in the light
again. I told her that so often, that she has a wonderful ass and
should show it off, fantastic tits that I, for one, wanted to see
more of. But she was embarrassed of her body and usually demanded
we make love in the dark. So I knew she was compromising by
screwing me with the lights on.

Her fingers and her body
explored every part of me, tickling me and sending little sparks of
pleasure bursting from head to toe. She wrapped her legs around
mine as our orgasms approached, in sync with each other since about
the fourth time we did it. It was like our bodies were perfectly
attuned to the rhythms of our lovemaking.

Our muscles moved,
synchronized with each other. My climax rippled through my body and
I moaned into her sturdy shoulders. She squeezed me tight, her own
body tensing around me, then lay limp on the couch beneath
me.

I fell asleep there in her
arms, not having heard a word of dialogue from the movie. Even
laying there in silence, I focused on the feel of her delicate
breasts and torso beneath my grasp, not the seemingly-distant
dialogue of the film, about which I had completely forgotten. I was
glad to wake up some hours later, guided by the hand by Meredith
into my bedroom, where we sprawled out together, limbs akimbo and
interlocked with each other.

“Remember when you said you
didn’t want to be with a woman who was ninety-five percent hetero?”
I asked, kissing her on her pale, delicate cheek. She nodded. “Well
I was at fifty-fifty, but I think you just knocked me up a few
percent.”

She sat up and wrapped one
arm around me. “So you’re more lesbian than not now?” I nodded.
“The lesbian agenda marches on,” she said. She kissed me on the
lips and settled into the bed next to me. Her breasts and her
thighs pressed against me as we nuzzled our way to
sleep.