I still remember the butterflies in my stomach as I leaned in for my first kiss with her. We were both nervous virgins exploring our desires in a cozy dorm room, the air thick with anticipation. Her soft lips met mine, tentative at first, then hungry. My hands trembled as I unbuttoned her blouse, revealing perky breasts that begged to be touched. She moaned softly when I cupped them, my thumbs circling her hardening nipples.
We stripped slowly, savoring every reveal. Her body was flawless—smooth skin, curves in all the right places. I trailed kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, to those luscious tits. She arched her back, guiding my mouth to suckle her. Lower still, my fingers found her wet pussy, slick with arousal. ‘Touch me,’ she whispered. I did, rubbing her clit in slow circles until she bucked against my hand.
She returned the favor, her tongue flicking my folds, making me gasp. Our first scissoring was electric—clits grinding, juices mingling, bodies slick with sweat. We came together in shuddering waves, screaming each other’s names. That night awakened my lesbian soul, craving more girl-on-girl passion forever.
