Thank goodness, we both have lovers. Here's how each couple met.

     The stories:
   * Tammy Seduces Her Boyfriend by Tammy Ng
   * The Seduction of Deidre by Deidre Ng
   * Tammy Gets Even (Better) by Tammy Ng
   * The Seduction of Deidre - Part II by Deidre Ng

Sisters Ng: Tammy Seduces Her Boyfriend by Tammy Ng

Dear Dee-Dee,

I'm glad to hear that there are no hard feelings, except those of our
boyfriends. Thank you for your last message, now I know where to meet you
for lunch! Once I was in a cafeteria at school and I saw a girl standing
near the salad bar. She was holding a carrot stick in her hand. I saw her
look across the room and catch someones eye, then she licked the carrot like
she was going to go down on it. I couldn't pick out who she was trying to
turn on, probably her boyfriend.

Did I ever tell you how I met my boyfriend? I think all I've said before is
that we met in a photography class. There is slightly more to the story than
that, as you might expect.

I always looked for cute guys in my classes, it was such a natural way to
meet. You always had something in common, and if you really got along,
pulling an all nighter became an appealing double entendre. So there I was
in Photo 12something. It was meeting in this big auditorium, and kids sat
all over, about one per row. The first week I spotted this guy, cute, brown
hair, glasses. Second week, I sit in his row. Third week, I get there early,
he has to say excuse me and squeeze past to get to his seat. I smile. He
smiles. He blushes. This guy is shy. I say, gee we have the same camera body
(Nikon, so does the rest of the class). What lenses does he have? Filters?
Maybe we could do the next assignment together and swap equipment. OK. The
prof announces our next assignment, playgrounds. Yuk. We spend three hours
waiting for something interesting to happen at a local nursery school. The
kids go home. I say how about you take me playing with all these kid toys? I
act like a fool, goofing around on the swings, slide, etc. while he snaps
away. At least it breaks the ice. Next week, we do trees together.

Next week, and I lean over and whisper in his ear before the prof announces
the assignment, "Together, right?" He nods OK. Prof clears throat, announces
topic: underwear.

I was sure he wouldn't show up.

The appointed hour silently becomes now, and now passes.

There is a knock. Yes, its him! Big smile, come in, of course, don't be
silly, I'm always late myself. We took our cameras and stuff into my
bedroom. He said he really had no idea what to do, how did I want to do
this? I said I had some ideas, but I couldn't be behind the lens and in
front of it at the same time. Would he shoot for me? He says yes.

I started by the window, next to my bed. Strong sidelight, I looked away at
nothing. I was wearing jeans and a button down flannel top (it was already
November). First I pulled the shirttails out, and unbuttoned all the
buttons, then rebuttoned the top one. We did shots revealing various amounts
of bra. Just a plain white bra. More shots, me kneeling on the bed, shirt
off my shoulders. I look down, right, left, up, is he even noticing me?

I say I want to change bras. He says ok, he won't look. He's not getting it.
I open my drawers, searching for the right bra. Maybe its with the matching
panties? I try that drawer. He comes over, looks over my shoulder. Are those
all mine, he says? He's staring at two drawers stuffed to overflowing with
the necessities of womanhood, underwear in every possible shade and hue. He
says, My sister has bras and panties, I did the wash at home, and I saw
them. They were all white. Like guy underwear. This is incredible. He
laughs.

Its a beautiful, mischievous laugh, full of wonder at the world. I want to
jump him right there.

I shot for you he says, will I model for him? He's nervous, almost back in
his shell, I'll do anything to keep him from retreating. Of course, I'll be
his model.

He had me strip out of my jeans and lie on the bed. White bra, white panties
and me. How much of me was he seeing? Was this still just an assignment for
him? I thought he might take some shots of me, soft porn like. He asked me
to spread eagle on the bed. I complied. He turned and pulled the drawer with
my bras in it completely out of the dresser. Carrying it to the bed, he
turned it over and dumped the entire drawerful on my chest. Then he turned
and got the other drawer and dumped out all the panties across my stomach
and hips. Then he started to take pictures.

Of course I saw them later, these hilarious pictures of me buried under
mountains of undergarments. He stood me up and decorated me like a Christmas
tree, snapped my bras together and garlanded me with them. He dressed a
chair in my stuff, stretching my panties so that the front legs the chair
went through the leg holes, pulling them up around the seat. He draped
various bras across the back, and I held up a big white sheet for a
backdrop. He took several like that, when he looked at me again, the shyness
coming back. Would I do something else? Of course.

He took the panties off the front legs of the chair, and fitted them to the
back legs, with the front panel of the panties facing backwards. He picked
up the bra and reversed it also, so the cups bowed out with the curve of the
chair back.

"Now I want you to sit in it," he said. I was still in my white bra and
panties. I sat facing the camera, chair back between my legs. He looked at
me. I thought I knew what he wanted, a shot where the clothes on the chair
kind of shadowed or overlay the right parts of my body. He bit his lip. "Um,
could you perhaps take off the uh.." Now I got the picture. For this shot it
would look best if I had nothing on, and the clothes were worn by the chair.

I reached behind me and unclipped the bra. As the cups slid off, my nipples
stood up like rocks, was he noticing? I wanted to touch them, but restrained
myself. I got off the chair and pulled off the briefs, did he watch my tits
swing? Sitting down, I caught a whiff of myself. I wondered if he could
smell me too.

He was looking through the lens, setting up the shot. From just off center,
the shot would show me, my breasts hanging just behind the bra. Looking,
looking, focus. Without moving from behind the camera, squinting into the
rangefinder, he said, "I don't know if you know it, but you're really
beautiful." Click. All of a sudden I know it, and feel it. Feeling beautiful
feels like you know a secret and the secret is he likes you. Feeling
beautiful feels like a sudden rush of sunlight into a November afternoon.
Feeling beautiful feels like a blushing warmth creeping across your chest
and being suddenly wet in a private place and wanting to cradle his head
against your chest and take him into your private place and let him make it
his place, let him mark you as his, just as he has marked you as beautiful.

"You can put your stuff back on, um...," he trailed off, no longer looking
through the lens.

"I don't think that will be necessary."

I got up and sat on the bed, clearing a space amid the strewn clothes. I
knelt, near the edge, and he sat opposite me.

"Look," I said. "I'm just plain Tammy Ng when I look in the mirror. Hang
around girls much and you'll find out very few of us has a great self image.
I would love to hear you call me beautiful again. I would love for you to
look straight at me and say I'm beautiful. But I'm warning you, I'm already
very attracted to you. Saying I'm beautiful is only going to make things
worse for you."

He leaned forward, and looked me straight in the eye. "Tammy Ng, you're
beautiful."

I looked at him. He was smiling from ear to ear.

"You know, I was just thinking," I said, "I think we just said that we like
each other, and I don't know how you would feel about this, but I'm a girl
and I'm naked and I'm sitting on this bed, see, so I was wondering if it
would feel at all natural to you, at this moment, to well, what I'm really
saying is that I wouldn't mind if you wanted to perhaps..."

"Kiss you?"

"For a start."

He started. We kissed, him standing, me kneeling on the bed. He was leaning
towards me and only out lips met. I got butterflies, kissing him. I got
wetter, kissing him.

"You could touch me, too, y'know"

"I have your permission?"

"I'm about to demand it."

"But I like tasting you."

"Then I'm going to demand that you taste me, please. There's nothing I'd
like better than for you to taste me everywhere and anywhere you want, but I
might point out that some parts of Tammy Ng taste better than others, and
other parts of Tammy Ng are just about screaming to be tasted, and there's a
special on breasts in the appetizing department, if you'd like to..."

His tongue flicked my right nipple. My hands came up and I held my tits up
and out to him.

"Yes, that felt so good, just suck me please, I'd really love to feel ..."
but I was already feeling it as he bit me lightly at the base of my nipple
and ran his teeth lightly up and pulled it softly with his lips.

At that point we went completely non-verbal, though not non-vocal. He kissed
me everywhere that counted. He touched me, everywhere, too. He wouldn't even
take his clothes off until I scrabbled through the heap of clothes that was
now on the floor to find the condom I kept with my panties. Then I stripped
him and made him lie down and stroked his cock a few times and kissed him
there and then I couldn't wait and I rolled the sheath down around him.
Straddling him, I led him into me. We were both so excited, it went very
quickly, that first time.

Oh, and the photo assignment? I took some shots of him in his jockey shorts,
making these hokey muscleman poses, and my vibrator sticking out the
leghole. Very funny, but don't ask, the shots from that day got shown to the
professor, who graded them excellent, and now nobody sees them but us.

Sisters Ng: The Seduction of Deidre by Deidre Ng

Dear Tammy,

Why am I not amazed that the first thing you do with this guy when you get
him alone is to take off all your clothes, stick out your tits, and start
purring about how much you need him! Thank goodness the demure, chaste Tammy
I grew up with has not changed. The Tammy that joined the Tennis Club
because she thought mixed doubles applied to the shower room also. The Tammy
who tried out for Glee Club for amazingly misguided reasons. The Tammy who
majored in Fine Arts, Performance her entire freshman year until she found
out that the performance of her finest art was not something they gave
diplomas for. And you had already prepped for the Orals!

This guy had no chance. But it looks like your incredible restraint paid
off, because I have to admit that he seems quite a catch. I always got wet
for the shy ones, too. Maybe its that we see them as a challenge. Maybe
we're betting that performance is inversley related to braggadaccio, which
seems to be true for you two. You're last couple posts to me must have been
measureable on the Richter scale. Geologists want to set up seismographs in
your building, they say your bedroom has been at the epicenter of a series
of small earthquakes.

But I'm not faulting your relationship, just because it got started with a
strip tease and sex acts involving furniture. I just know thats how you are.

I, on the other hand, was seduced.

When I came to New York I knew noone. I had a crappy job, crappy apartment.
My right hand woke me up in the morning and my vibrator helped me go to
sleep at night. It was survival, but just barely. After a while I changed
jobs, got a new apartment, one where the sun came in big south facing
windows in both the bedroom and the living room. I had been working at
Mumble, Bumble & Co. for about three years. I'd made some friends. But the
male scene was the pits. Jewish boys that left you for Buddhist monasteries.
Lawyers that would interrupt sex for incoming faxes. Dolts that brought a
bottle of wine on a first date and drank it all themselves, that felt their
drunkeness gave them rights to your body. Nice guys that are lots of fun,
that said no when I offered that maybe they'd like to sleep over. I was
convinced that I was never to meet a stable sensitive man anywhere in New
York.

During this period I was chummy with a guy at work. He was quiet,
unassuming, easy to talk to. I never thought of him as a guy I should make a
move on, I thought he was out of my league. We talked a lot, he asked me how
it was going on the boyfriend front, I'd tell him all my trials and
tribulations. Once I was sitting in his office and I told him how I had gone
out with this lawyer, we got along, nice dinner, nice conversation, back to
his place, kissing on the couch, I called time out, I didn't want to take my
clothes off on the first date. Well he called me back, what should I do? He
buzzed his secretary and asked her to come in and close the door. Turning to
her he said, "Well M., what do you think, should Dee-Dee get laid tonight?"
M. was beautiful, always had a bunch of guys hanging around her cubicle
drooling. She looked at me and said "If Dee-Dee wants, Dee-Dee gets. Rip his
fucking clothes off if you have to." He just nodded his head and smiled.

We had gotten along really well for years. Well, they finally installed
company wide e-mail one day and to test it I sent him a message, something
along the lines of "Now we can send each other e-mail full of double
entendres." We sometimes kidded around like that, and sometimes it left me
feeling an ache that it took a couple times with the vibrator to work off.
He sent back a one liner "It gives new meaning to the computer going down."
Cute, but even the tiniest fantasy of him going down on me, and it was
vibrator time again. Anyway, that was it until the next afternoon, when my
little mailflag went up, and I saw it was from him. Now I'm just going to
quote his message whole:

     Subject: Cashmere

     It was 11 o'clock, and she was still in her work clothes. She sat
     on the couch, next to the dozing cat. The news ran on with the
     sound turned low, letting just a rumour of the world leak into her
     apartment.

     She was hungry. Popcorn. The word exploded, and growled her
     stomach. She got up and went to her tiny kitchen. Take down the
     box, rip open the plastic, pitch it into the microwave. Wait.

     Today he said he likes cashmere. It feels wonderful, he said. Why
     don't they make anything for men that feels that way. He ran the
     back of his fingers up and down the forearm of her sweater to feel
     it. Up. And down. Up again. It felt like slow motion, except for
     the alarm bells going off in her head and her heart going like a
     race horse. She'd said something witless and political, losing the
     moment.

     The first kernel popped. It was, she thought, like the first
     explosion of desire in a kiss. Followed in its own time by a
     second and in its own time by a third. And when they came in
     bunches now, like the tongues still gliding together, but the
     flush spreading and her nipples hard and feeling him hard against
     her. And the popcorn climax of individual pops lost in a roar of
     simultaneous explosion like he was inside her and thrust, thrust,
     glory, and thrust.

     She snapped back to the chime of the microwave mixed with the last
     reluctant explosion from the now swollen bag. She took it out and
     shook the contents into a big steel mixing bowl from the set
     nested in the cabinet under the microwave. Filled a glass mug with
     spring water from the fridge and set it to boil for tea, as she
     would inevitably be thirsty.

     At the couch she put down the bowl to divest herself of panties
     and skirt, having shed the nylons the second she walked in the
     door. She sat cross-legged, the bowl warm on the inside of her
     thighs. She stared at the wall a foot above the murmuring
     television, eating mechanically and thinking about cashmere. She
     thought, cashmere is made for men, just not for them to wear. Its
     for women to wear with nothing else and the sleeves bunched up
     above your elbows and as you lower yourself down and push him just
     a little farther into you each time, he reaches up beneath your
     sweater, and the cashmere brushes against your breasts. The soft
     hair of it clings to your nipples in ten thousand microscopic
     kisses. As you move it shifts across your body, on your back and
     shoulders and he presses it to you as you press him into you.

     She missed her open mouth and the popcorn cascaded down her
     cashmere sweater. She brushed it off by reaching up underneath the
     front of her sweater to unhinge the hook of her bra. She pushed
     the bra aside and felt the kiss of the cashmere harden her nipple.
     She began to circle her nipple beneath the cashmere in an endless
     kiss. Her other hand searched for the popcorn that had fallen
     between her thighs, setting aside the bowl, brushing along the
     inside of her thighs with the soft sleeve. Pushing through her
     tangled hair she found the kernel of desire. She began to work
     twin circles with her fingers, and alternated with strokes that
     brought her nipple upright and tautened her mound, her fingers
     plunging deep within her.

     The water came to a full boil as the machine chimed its joy. She
     did not hear.

Well. My secretary says that she watched me read this that day, and couldn't
figure out what I could have been looking at. She said my face got redder
and redder and a smile twitched at the corners of my mouth, which was
hanging half open. I told her someone sent me a dirty joke via e-mail. She
said it must have been a humdinger to make me blush like that. I read it and
reread it, then printed it and took it home and sat on the couch with the
paper in one hand and no nylons or panties or skirt and between my
shirttails my other hand fingering myself. My panties were soaked through
when I kicked them off. I lay down with my head on the pillow next to the
arm rest, threw one leg up over the back of the couch, let the other flop
outward.

One wet finger and my lips parted. One finger wet like his tongue, circling
slow delicate like his tongue on my clit and I'm already arching my back.
Two wet fingers caress each side of my clit, slide the length of my pussy
and back, press down and then slightly together to lift my clit a little,
its so good. Two fingers are his fingers stroking my clit. Three fingers are
wet fingers inside my pussy, pussy sucking at them, licking them like they
are his fingers fucking me, his cock working its way into me. Five fingers
cupping my whole pussy mound, gently kneading, feeling the juice squish
between my lips, spill over my clit I'm coming, base of my palm pressing my
clit middle finger slides between Im coming my lips finds my'm coming clit
coming clit coming strroke clitcoming cc-clit

I lay there trying to catch my breath, waiting for the spasms to pass,
feeling the trickle of little tears out of the corner of one eye. I let go
the crumpled paper. The tremendous need had passed. Now I could take him
slowly, the way he wanted to pleasure me, I knew. My fingers drifted lazily
over my thighs. Yes, you can kiss me here, skin I've made smooth for your
kiss. Little drops of juice bedewing my hair, I'll collect them for you and
tease your tongue with my taste. Would you like to taste me in earnest?
Here, let me hold my lips aside, this whole pink fissure is yours to taste.
I have coasts and bays that your tongue can swim in, deep water where your
tongue can dive and feel oh yes oh please my deep currents, the undertow
that grasps and wants to drag you down. And here by the shore, this narrow
inlet where the forest marches down to lean out over the waters, this is
where the surf rolls and breaks on the sand and a smooth rock protrudes from
the sand and the waters caress it and your tongue could lap against it like
the waters do. And the air is still and hot over this little cove where your
tongue licks over me, still and hot, filled with an insect like buzz of
anticipation and I can't hear my own breath I'm not breathing because I'm
anticipating that your tongue on the rock of my clit is very soon going to
yes oh yes just right oh oh

I get up from the couch and lead you by the hand to the bedroom. I take off
the rest of my clothes and find my cashmere turtleneck and put it on. I
kneel on my bed with a big pillow between my legs, it fills the space that I
want you to fill so desparately now. I lean over and pull my vibrator out of
the nightstand. KY jelly on the head of it, if it was you I'd suck you to
make you wet, just so you part my lips and slide into me, inside me you'll
find all the juice you want. I lean forward against the headboard, position
the wand between my legs. The head of it parts my lips, getting a little
tender there, have to go slow, turn it on, the buzz fills my pussy I suck in
my breath and the cashmere rubs against my bared breasts ten thousand
microscopic kisses. For a moment both my hands cup my breasts, the cashmere
kissing me like you wrote, like you said it would when you made love to me.
The fabric catching at my long, erect nipples, fondling me.

One arm on the headboard, a place to rest my forehead. One hand reaching
back between my legs, keeping the vibrator at just the right angle. Push
back, feel it entering like I want you to, a little, a little more. Pussy
holding tight to you, reluctant to let you pull away, even as I anticipate
your stroke returning, deeper, deeper. Up and down til I have you inside me,
my hand on the butt of the vibrator. Now I have you safe inside and I'm
going to fuck you easy and slow. I lift and you slide out til the tip tugs
at my lips, I let myself down and your shaft disappears inside me, splitting
my lips, I feel you filling me. It feels so good, fucking you so slow, so
relaxed I want it to last forever even as I feel it building stroke by
stroke. Sweat trickling down my back I have to go faster oh yes oh fuck me
harder oh fuck me oh yes my hand is following the vibe into my cunt oh make
me come fuck me yes your cock is so deep fucking me

I forgot to eat supper, but I slept very soundly that night.

The next day at work I went to his office as early as I could. "You," I
said, "are a very dangerous man." He batted his eyes, affecting a look of
total innocence. "You mean you liked it?"

Sisters Ng: Tammy Gets Even (Better) by Tammy Ng

Dear Dee-Dee,

Hi! I'm Tammy, remember me? I'm your sister that you agreed to write erotica
with, does that nudge your memory? All right, you didn't see me getting
laid, maybe I'm not qualified. Maybe I should claim to be the girl you saw
getting fingered in the stairwell, then you'd post my stuff too, right?
Let's see if 'Kellie', whoever she is, can write a vibrator story like I
did.

I dunno. I was trying to broaden our range of discourse. Bring in romance,
attempt spoken dialogue, humor even. And what to do I get for my trouble?
Tammy Seduces Her Boyfriend, like some sleazy tabloid Rupert Murdoch
headline! It obviously doesn't pay to be sensitive, if you are going to
sneak in editorial slapstick on the subject line of my posting. From now on,
Tammy is writing her own subject lines. To wit:

Public Notice to all readers of this letter who aren't older sisters of the
poster: If the subject line of this post isn't Tammy Gets Even (Better)
please complain to deidreng@aol.com.

Now, where was I?

It turned out that the first time between my boyfriend and me was his first
time, period. I should have been more gentle with him, would have perhaps if
I had known. But there I was, naked already, and he was so sweet, telling me
how beautiful I was. I was feeling all achy and butterflies and my legs
would just not stay closed. Thank goodness I had that condom.

He told me as we were lying there. His head was lying on my breast, one arm
thrown across me, one knee over my hips. We were drowsing in the afterglow,
that time when you don't feel like moving, when its enough to hold him and
remember how he filled you, how well you fit together, how you held him as
he came and how you made it the best for him you could and it felt so good
for you too, stretching, open, feeling his stroke fill you, knowing he was
urgent and close. You cradle his head, let him let go inside you, hold him
safe til the ecstasy passes. Now you lie as one, drowsing, watching the
afternoon pass in the movement of a sunbeam up the wall.

"You're the best," he said.

"Oh am I," I said, "I'm very flattered."

"You're also the worst and the prettiest and the ugliest and the tallest and
the shortest."

"Am I also first and last and only?"

"Yes."

"Oh, dear." And I hugged him closer.

Your first, I thought. I'm going to have to take extra special care of you.
I can feel your fingertips touching my nipple, is this the first time you've
done that? Testing its fleshiness, running one finger over the flat top,
around the base, watching it spring back as your finger passes over it.
Please, keep playing with one breast while I pillow you on the other. I want
you to know me, my textures and surfaces. Learn me with your touch and
tongue, taste me too. Learn the curve of my breast and how it weighs in your
hand, how your hand curls naturally around me, just like you're doing now.
Is the first time your hand has cupped a woman's breast? How very warm your
hand is! Squeezing me, testing the response of my flesh. You'll have to
learn that every caress touches me in the head, also. Your exploratory touch
is delightfully soft.

I sighed. "Your hand feels very nice on my breast. Not sexy, but nice. If
you keep doing that, it'll probably turn into sexy. Your fingers are being
so delicate. You can be more forceful, I'll tell you if its too much. I like
my nipple being squeezed. You can feel it grow and harden between your
fingers, especially if you make it wet. If you use your teeth and nibble at
my nipple very very carefully when you suck my breast, you'll make me a very
happy woman, and very aroused. You don't mind my telling you this do you?"

I felt his smile on my breast.

"Of course not. How else would I know what you like?"

"Well, it seems that some men think they know everything already and don't
want to hear anything that might imply that they are anything but expert
lovers. Other men don't really seem to care, they already know what they
like, why should they care what I like."

"I won't be like that. I'll take every piece of advice you care to give me.
Please remember that up until twenty minutes ago I was a virgin."

The next day we went to the darkroom together. We couldn't stop touching as
we handled the chemicals. I decided to give him his first blowjob as we
waited for the film. We were kissing and I knew he was hard, I could feel it
pressing against my belly. He trembled as my hand crept over him.

"You're going to make me come in my pants, Tammy." I was running my hand up
and down the bulge in his jeans while kissing him.

"I can think of a better place to come, one that won't embarass you so much
when you go to do the laundry." I did my best to slither down his front,
rubbing my breasts along him as I went. Kneeling I undid his belt and fly by
touch in the deep red darkness. I slid his pants off his ass, then took his
shorts down slowly. His cock swung out to rub against my chin as it came
free. I felt the wet drops it left there, evidence of his arousal. Kneeling
in the dark, it seemed to radiate heat. I let it trail across my cheek until
I felt his head warm on my lips.

I put one hand on his ass and the other curled around his rod. He felt so
warm in my hand. My pussy gave a little squeeze as my hand tightened on him.
I was wetting his cock head as my own juice started to flow liberally. I
wanted to be so good for him. I wanted to make him last and give him a
virtuoso performance. As my jaw opened to swallow him my pussy throbbed.

With my hand on his ass I guided him in thrusting slowly into my mouth. Then
I pushed down on the base of his cock with the other hand and stilled him,
giving myself the opportunity to let my head move up and down on him. I got
my hand going and pretty soon his whole cock was getting stroked or sucked.
He was totally into the feelings I was giving him, I could hear little
whimpers of pleasure as my lips slid over the flare around his cock head.

I thought he was close to coming. He had reached behind my head and was
carressing my hair, urging me to take more and more of him. I took what I
could of him, and the rest I stroked faster and tighter. He suprised me by
putting his other hand over mine, slowing me down but making me even
tighter. He guided me now, I'm sure he knew how to pleasure himself, and now
I was learning just what kind of hand stroke he liked. Together we held his
erection, his hand on mine. I was holding the tip of his cock between my
lips, tongueing the little gap, waiting for his wonderful explosion. I was
trying to concentrate on how tight he was holding my hand, how the speed and
pressure varied. My pussy was clenching as if it too wanted to be tight and
slick around that warm stiff flesh. In time, I thought, in time.

Suddenly his hand behind my head pushed in on me and his cock popped into my
mouth just as he came. His cum slid over my tongue as his smell filled my
nostrils, strong and heady. I squeezed his ass really hard, feeling his
muscles clench as he shot into me. That's right, I thought, come really hard
into me I love giving it to you so good let me milk every last drop out of
you. You are so special, I want you to feel it in the way I wrap my tongue
around you, sucking licking I know you're so sensitive now let me just hold
you in my mouth steady steady let me swallow what I've got and breathe and
feel so happy I've given you something so special, made it so sweet for you,
we did it together, let me lick that last drop out of your cock you
wonderful boy.

I cleaned him up and tucked him back in and we finished up with the rolls of
film. Then we practically ran back home to my apartment. I showed him how to
go down on me, how to make me shiver and twitch with a little flick of the
tongue. He was a very attentive student, I think he got it all right the
first time through, but he insisted on practicing so I endured his tender
ministrations twice more before I collapsed into a happy little puddle. We
made love again that night and he found out what it feels like to have a
woman fuck you from above, driving her body onto your cock, using her whole
weight to impale herself on you, over and over again until you both are
coming and she stretches out on top of you after you come and your lips meet
and your kiss lasts until you sleep.

Sisters Ng: The Seduction of Deidre - Part II by Deidre Ng

Dear Tammy,

Since you asked, this is how things went after that first story from him.

We were both pretty busy the following day, but in the afternoon we went to
the cafeteria together for a soda. I asked him why he had written such an
erotic piece and sent it to me, of all people. He said that the idea just
popped into his head as he walked through Bowling Green on the way to the
post office for stamps. We had sent these messages to each other and he
wanted to see how aroused he could make me via e-mail. But it wasn't just
that. It was me in particular he wanted to arouse.

The cafeteria wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either. We were talking
quietly. Suddenly he smiled awkwardly and said he wanted to write something
that would make us intimate. He looked down at the table. The soda had been
sweating, and when he moved it there was a ring of water drops on the table
top. He pushed them around with his finger, dragged them by surface tension
til they joined together. He seemed lost in thought, or perhaps waiting for
me to respond. Perhaps unconciously his finger carressed the water drop on
the table, pushing it, circling it, holding his finger hovering over it til
it leapt up and spread across his finger tip. It reminded me of how his
finger might move if it were hovering over me, between my legs, between my
lips, hovering, waiting for surface tension to attract my surface to his. I
clamped my legs tight together and shivered at the breeze blowing through
me.

The more his finger carressed the drop of water, the more aroused I got, the
less able to speak and break the spell. The word intimate was echoing around
inside me. This went beyond the intimacy of a shared secret. Whether he knew
it or intended it, he had already entered me through my most sensitive and
delicate opening, that of the imagination. He had lubricated his entry with
slippery words that left me breathless, his strong shaft was words, his
ejaculation was more words that I still tasted inside me. Having aroused me
there, made love to me there, been as intimate with me there as could be
done with words, what could the rest of me do but follow helplessly. Hadn't
I, the night before, invited his kiss, his carress, begged them even. In my
privacy I had craved his intimacy, far beyond a wink at the coffee station.

He looked up at me, breaking the spell. I gathered my self together, reining
in my feelings and my bodily urges. I told him that if he wanted to be
intimate he had chosen how to start very well. I was still a bit suprised to
be the subject of his attention. He flattered me, telling me that I was
smart and pretty and sexy, that it made for a very attractive package,
especially the smart part. I suffered through being complimented as well as
can be expected, simultaneously basking in his praise and trying to squelch
the little voice inside that kept saying it wasn't true, that I was dumb and
fat and why should he care, its just my pussy he wants anyway.

We had to leave it like that, and I went back to my desk still ambivalent.
Ambivalent and aroused. Aroused and unsure. Aroused and more aroused. I
could taste his words like he had come them into my mouth. They rolled
saltily in my mouth. "...intimate...push him into you..."

That evening I got another e-mail:

     No Words

     At 6:30 you get message via e-mail, which you think is strange,
     since you assume I am gone. The subject is simply 'No Words',
     suggestive enough to quicken your heart even before you click the
     message open. The message itself is simple. "No panties either. My
     office. 9PM."

     At 9 my side of the floor is empty. The cleaning lady has come and
     gone. You step inside and close the door. I meet you with a kiss
     that begins as a shower of little kisses across your cheeks and
     lips, then focuses on your lips as we embrace. We stand, kissing,
     exploring each other and our mutual desire. Our grip is tender and
     fierce as our kisses meet and join and melt together.

     In our own time, we separate just a little. I hold your hands and
     lead you to my desk. Clearing aside papers and keyboard, I motion
     you to sit up on the vacant space. You do, and flip out the skirt
     from beneath you. Now standing between your legs, I bend to kiss
     you again, seeing the pulse thudding in the veins of your neck.
     Your hair falls away from your up-tilted head. I lean against you
     and your legs embrace me. A whimper of desire escapes your lips.
     We kiss. Your tongue is fire in my mouth.

     In our own time, we separate just a little. Your head rolls back
     and your breath escapes in measured gasps. I stroke your arms and
     push against your breasts beneath your blouse. I kneel.

     Now I am face to face with your heat. With my hands on your
     buttocks I bring you to the edge of the desk. You widen your
     spread. I kiss you. Small and tentative at first, then circling
     and little flicks of my tongue. Your motions and gasps are spasms
     of guidance in your pleasure. I know it when you come and come
     again.

     In our own time, we separate just a little. I am ready for you,
     and you are ready for me. I lean against you once more, my hands
     on your knees, your ankles crossed in the small of my back. We
     rock back and forth, and I slip quickly inside of you, greeted by
     your slickness and warmth and desire. We stop and start at many
     stages. We rest and kiss. I slip right out of you by accident one
     time. With a giggle you guide my wet shaft back into your waiting
     depths. The ending is a slow build, a thrusting that cannot stop,
     your every muscle holding, squeezing me as I explode within you.
     Breathless, we hold each other. We are one.

     In our own time, we separate. We clean each other, touch each
     other, kiss each other. You laugh, I laugh too, we hold each
     other.

     In our own time, we bid adieu. You open the door after a last long
     kiss and the spell is broken. At your desk you find an e-mail
     message waiting that says "Thank you, and Good night. I love you."

     You go home. No-one on the subway knows why you laugh and smile,
     shiver and hug yourself.

Before I left that night I had written him two messages:

     Subject: just right

     ------------------------------- Message Contents
     -------------------------------

     Perfect. You were PERFECT. You were so, so, so absolutely perfect.
     How

     do you know exactly how to make it so perfect? I can undertand how
     your

     fantasies would reflect what YOU would like and would be like. But
     how do you

     know so well the details of just how I would respond, even though
     you've never

     made love to me? Is what I would like and how I would like it so
     obvious that it

     shows on the outside? Or do you and I happen to share the same
     imagination?

     (Did you make this up just for me, or is it something you might
     actually

     want to do?)

     I'm staying late tonight, but I'll still close my eyes and smile a
     Mona

     Lisa smile on the way home as I sink into the back seat of the
     limo.

     It will give me something to think about as I'm lying totally
     relaxed and

     naked on the top white tile step in the steam room at the gym
     after my run this

     evening, and it's about 115 degrees. I can't see a thing because I
     don't have my

     glasses and the room is foggy thick with steam and the hiss of the
     compressor.

     The hot little drops of water condensing on the ceiling fall onto
     me unannounced

     - I never know just when they're going to fall or where they're
     going to land. I

     usually close my eyes and breath very slowly and deeply because
     the air is too

     hot and wet to breath normally. I feel completely surrounded. I
     always take a

     quick shower before going in there, so my skin feels smooth and
     shiny and soft,

     and my hair is wet and smells fresh from the shampoo and hangs
     long over the

     side of the step.

     I'll most certainly go over every detail. And over. And over. And
     over.

     You got it just right.

Well there was no hiding my feelings after that, was there? And so I wrote:

     Subject: what's going through my mind on the west side IRT

     ------------------------------- Message Contents
     -------------------------------

     Oh, David.

     I think about you now, all the time. I really do. I think about
     how it

     would be with you. You really are making me crazy. The images and
     sensations you

     come up with for me, the way you imagine I would respond - it's a
     little scary

     how right you are. The little sighs and wimpers, sudden quiet deep
     moans that

     surprise even me, pulling you into me with my legs around you,
     arms folded

     around your shoulders and neck, fingers in your hair at the back
     of your head,

     my hair falling everywhere, (around your face when I'm on top)
     soft kisses, deep

     hot kisses., slow, messy, open mouthed. I'd love to tease you with
     my

     tongue. Just the tip, outlining your lips, hunting inside your
     mouth for your

     tongue, finding, pulling back, sneaking in again. My lips gently
     tasting your

     mustache, my fingertips and nails stroking and smoothing your
     beard.

     I especially liked the part in cashmere where I was on top, slowly
     working

     you into me, oversized sweater falling and moving across my skin,
     your hands

     moving over me, under that softest sweater, even warmer than the
     cashmere. You

     cannot imagine how much that turns me on. It's unbelievable. Too
     many men seem

     to forget that there are more three places on my body I enjoy
     being touched.

     (Basically, anyplace there is skin does the trick).

     And the gradual deepening sensation of you slowly filling me up,
     and the

     perfect moment when you're finally completely inside me, close and
     hard and hot

     between my legs, belly to belly. I always lose my breath at that
     moment, eyes

     closed, lips parted, my hair slipping over my shoulders as I lean
     towards you to

     kiss you hard. There aren't any words at that moment - you might
     feel the soft

     stinging scratch of my nails as I tighten my grip on your
     shoulders as I finally

     take you completely into me. Being only five feet tall, and more
     or less petite

     overall, I must tell you that, while I'm sure I could take you,
     I'm a bit...(how

     should I put it delicately)... on the tight side.. You would be
     very safe, very

     hard, very hot, and very, very desperate.

     And I have excellent muscle control.

     And I love to move with you. If I'm on top, let me do the work -
     let me

     move up and down your entire length, pulling up but stopping just
     short of your

     very hard and slippery head and oh so slowly pressing back down,
     squeezing you

     from the inside as I go, until you can feel me resting on top of
     you, dripping

     on to you. I might lace my fingers through yours, holding your
     hands just above

     your head, leaning forward, my weight very gently pinning you to
     the pillows -

     you're much stronger than I am, but you let me do this anyway
     because you don't

     want to upset the balance. I can watch your face, your eyes, tease
     you

     with almost-kisses for a bit before I give you my mouth for what
     turns into a

     seemingly inseparable devouring kiss, and I hear your sighs and
     wimpers through

     it. I can tell as you get closer and closer to coming, but even
     though you're

     signalling me to move faster, oh please, please, please, I might
     take just a

     little more time, make you last a just a little longer, until you
     absolutely

     can't hold on another second, and crush me to you, burying your
     face in my neck,

     shaking as you come into me, as deep as you can. I stop moving and
     lay

     perfectly still on top of you, holding you very close, ohyes ohyes
     oh yes oh so

     sweet, until the last little shudder is over. We stay like that
     not speaking

     or moving, just catching our breath. After a few minutes I'd pull
     myself up,

     pushing my very messed up hair out of the way over one shoulder to
     look at you,

     kiss you oh so gently on the mouth, eyelashes, fuzzy face, warm
     damp neck and

     mouth again, moving slowly and smoothly from kiss to kiss.

     You made me so happy. I feel wonderful. I love seeing you so
     excited. I love

     making you so excited. Here, put your arm around me, let's curl up
     and fall

     asleep together. Everything okay? Mmmmmmm. good night.

Of course for me it was another night of tossing and turning and calling out
his name as I touched the fire he had lit in me. I was over the line now. I
had to have him. If he wanted intimacy he was on notice now what to expect.

We had a soda break that evening as well, after a full day of running into
each other in the hall and elevator and just exchanging glances. We sat away
from everyone else and I told him everything. I told him what he had done to
me, what I had done when I got home the last two evenings. I told him how
much I hoped he truly wanted to make love to me, now that I wanted more than
anything to make love to him. I told him in exacting detail how I would go
down on him, given the chance.

He listened to me impassively. When I ran out of things to say, he said he
wanted those things too. He reached across the table and we touched for the
first time.
                                      -
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