I Met A Girl At The Club. It Was A Hot Humid Night And We Danced And Laughed And Kissed. She Smelled

I met a girl at the club. It was a hot humid night and we danced and laughed and kissed. She smelled like incense and we sang to Billy Eilish. At the end of the night she invited me on a date tomorrow evening at her house. A vast shared house with 11 other flatmates plus their friends and partners. We all cooked together making huge quantities of vegan curry. At one point someone played Umbrella by Rihanna and everyone appeared and did a flash mob dance to it. I joined in following her moves, her face lit with joy. Later that night as I sat outside she appeared with my phone and gave it to me. “I’ve been sending you tit pics from the bathroom” she laughed. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her neck. I told her how much I had enjoyed the evening. “Let me show you my world tomorrow”. She arrived promptly at 8. I pull her in and take her coat. I kneel down and slide off her heels. I can tell she’s made such an effort. She smells and looks wonderful. A little nervous compared to the relaxed carefree girl of the last two evenings, She’s 3 or 4 inches shorter than me. I eye her hungrily. “Are you hungry?” I ask, she shakes her head. “I’m starving” I tell her as I pick her up and she giggles relaxing a little. I lay her down on my big bed, soft puffy white covers and cushions billowing around her in the peace of my apartment. She props herself up on her elbows watching me as I crawl up the bed, pushing up her dress, squeezing her thighs, fingers rubbing the wet spot on her panties as I compliment and praise her. She wiggles her hips so I can pull up her dress over and off. She flops back, lying down with a gratuitous moan and exhale. I spread her legs and lean over her, one hand resting on the bed beside her, my knees between her thighs. My other hand rubbing firm circles against her pussy through the material as I gently lay kisses on her, her scars, her marks, bruises, blemishes, the hollow of her throat, the rise of her breast and gentle swell of her stomach. Looking down at her admiringly I say to her “Red is for stop. Orange means pause, slow down. Green means carry on.” She repeats after me. “I’ll make you feel so good I promise sweet girl. Are you ready, are you happy?” She quickly replies nodding her head and breathily agreeing and I know she’s mine.

I want you laid out, so pretty in my bed. I'll kiss my way down your body, trailing down your neck, your stomach, your thighs. Then I'll look up at you through my lashes, lick my lips, and sit back. Before you can vocalize the confusion written on your face, I'll say, "Will you touch yourself for me? Pretty please? I want to watch." And with a gasp and a growing blush creeping up your cheeks, you'll do it. And I'll watch you squirm and whimper, and you'll show me exactly how you look when taking pleasure in your own hands. And fuck your hands will look so pretty playing with yourself. So so pretty. And I'll call you so so pretty. And my mouth will water while I watch you come on your fingers. And I won't be able to help myself, grabbing hold of your wrist, eyes locked on yours while I wrap my lips around your fingers. I'll moan at the taste of your pleasure, suckling on your fingers. Pull off with a pop and then I'd have to get my lips on yours, so you can taste for yourself how delicious you are. Slide my tongue hotly against yours. Kiss down your neck... your chest... stomach... thighs... all leading down to get a taste from the source.

Amen!!!

Yes or No??

So a girl friend of mine recently noticed that I have armpit hair and suggested that I needed to shave them. I'm a tomboy femme who is actually more into femmes than I am butch. So this question is more for the femme's because I already kinda know where the masc/butch stance is.

How do you girls feel about armpit hair on femme lesbians? I've gone back and for between hair and no hair. I am generally well groomed everywhere else.