I never planned on telling anyone about what happened with Emily, but some nights the memory still hits me so hard I have to touch myself just to quiet it. We were both twenty-one, seniors at the same small liberal-arts college, stuck together in an advanced literature seminar that met twice a week in the dusty top floor of the old library. She sat two rows ahead of me, always in these soft sweaters that slipped off one shoulder, her dark hair falling in waves I wanted to bury my face in. I told myself it was just admiration until the night we stayed late to finish a joint presentation on Virginia Woolf.
The library was almost empty by ten. Rain tapped the tall windows while we hunched over our laptops at a long oak table. Emilys knee brushed mine under the table and stayed there. Neither of us moved away. When she leaned over to point at something on my screen, her breast pressed warm against my arm and I felt my nipples tighten inside my bra. I looked up. Her eyes were darker than usual, lips parted just enough to show the tip of her tongue.
You keep staring at my mouth, she said, voice low. Do you want to kiss me?
I nodded before I could think. She closed the laptop, stood, and pulled me into the narrow aisle between the stacks. Her hands slid under my sweater, palms hot on my bare waist, and then her mouth was on minesoft at first, then open and hungry. I tasted the mint gum shed been chewing and something sweeter that was just her. We kissed until my knees felt loose. When she pulled back, a thin strand of saliva connected our lips for a second before it broke.
Come to my dorm, she whispered. My roommates gone for the weekend.
We walked through the rain without umbrellas, laughing and breathless, jackets held over our heads. Inside her single room the air was warm and smelled like her vanilla body lotion. She locked the door, turned, and started undressing me slowly, kissing each new inch of skin she uncovered. My sweater went first, then my bra. Emily cupped my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they ached, then bent to suck one into her mouth. The wet pull made me gasp and grab her hair.
She pushed me onto her narrow bed and peeled off my jeans and panties in one motion. I lay there naked while she stood over me, stripping herself. Her body was fuller than mine, soft belly, heavy breasts with dark areolas. When she climbed on top, our skin met everywhere at oncebreasts to breasts, bellies sliding, her smooth thigh pressing between my legs. I could feel how wet she already was against my skin.
Emily kissed down my body, lingering at my hips, then spread my thighs and looked at me. Youre dripping, she said, almost reverent. Her tongue traced my outer lips first, slow and flat, before she sucked my clit between her lips and flicked it. I arched hard, one hand fisting the sheets, the other on the back of her head. She licked me with long, deliberate strokes, sometimes pushing her tongue inside, sometimes circling my swollen clit until I was shaking. When two of her fingers slid into me, curling just right, I came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around her head.
She didnt stop. She eased me through it, then kissed her way back up and straddled my thigh. I felt the slick heat of her pussy against my skin. I reached down and ran my fingers through her folds; she was soaked, clit swollen and easy to find. Emily rocked against my hand while I sucked her nipples, biting gently until she moaned. She came grinding on my fingers, forehead pressed to mine, whispering my name like a secret.
We lay tangled for a while, breathing hard, then started again. This time I rolled her onto her back and explored her the way shed explored me. I loved the taste of her, the way her inner thighs trembled when I licked her. I slid two fingers inside while I sucked her clit and felt her clench around me when she came again, louder than before.
Later, we lay face-to-face, legs scissored together, rubbing our wet pussies against each other in slow, slippery strokes. Every time our clits brushed I felt sparks. We moved faster, hands gripping asses, mouths open against each others necks, until we both shuddered through another shared orgasm, slick and gasping.
We fell asleep sticky and sated, her arm heavy across my waist. In the morning we showered together, soaping each others breasts and sliding fingers between soapy folds until the water ran cold. We never finished that presentation on time, but we kept meeting after class, sometimes in her room, sometimes in mine, sometimes in the library stacks when we couldnt wait.
Years later I still think about the first nightthe rain, the taste of her, the way she looked up at me from between my thighs like shed found something shed been searching for. That was the night I learned how good it feels to stop pretending and just let another womans mouth and hands pull every secret sound out of me.
