Chicago Lesbian 1

I like to think of myself as urbane, and I like to think of Chicago as the ultimate urbane city. It really is just the way it looks in movies. Slick. Clean. Great architecture. Lots of live music if you know where to look. But I also like to daydream too much. I was at my favorite Japanese steakhouse, thinking about how good the city looked at night. Fortunately my girlfriend didn’t notice. She just sat there on the right side of the secluded booth…nibbling at nigiri sushi.

The last time we were here was a year ago, after we first met. And just like the first time, our booth was very out of the way. A little darker and cozier than the rest, the low cushions lining the side and back walls just a bit more plush. I sat in the center, my attention less focused on my own food than how she enjoyed hers…the chopsticks sliding over her lips, the demure way she dabbed them dry. I never understood why she was so dainty about food or anything else, as Michelle is nearly eight inches taller than me and quite the soft butch. Well, tall or not, she’s cute when she’s eating.

My food was lukewarm (as opposed to being properly chilly), and I had lost interest in it some time before. I just watched her eating, savoring the rice and sake. And her lips…they’ve always been very full, and red, even without makeup.

Instead of letting her use the napkin, I leaned in for a kiss, licking the sweet liquor from her lips. She paused, setting down her cup; accepting my lips, and then my tongue, and then returning my interest with her own. Her right hand caressed my face, but her left…there were fingers. Soft ones. And they were up my skirt. Michelle keeps her fingernails manicured and painted silver, but short. For me.

I couldn’t even feel her nails inside me, only firm, insistent flesh. And her thumb pressing my clitoris. My panties she had pulled aside, and now she got to the point. She pulled my panties down to just above the hem of my skirt…her right hand still on my face, she stopped kissing me. She looked me straight in the eyes, as a predator might taunt its next meal, and was no longer simply touching. Her fingers began sliding in and out as she unashamedly, unabashedly began to masturbate me.