Secret, Saintly Schoolgirl Love
Date: 4/25/2024,
Categories:
Lesbian
Author: KathrynLocksley
... pulled herself even closer on my lap, rubbing the thin cotton layer of her panties right up against mine.
I could feel moisture where our positions misaligned just slightly, and the edges of her panties touched my bare inner thigh. Moisture and so, so much warmth.
Gathering my resolve to be the brave one for at least one step, I reached my right hand down and, with an embarrassing amount of shaky fumbling, slipped it under the hem of her skirt.
I brushed my fingers over the fabric between her legs, the same way I had explored her back through her blouse. She took in a breath and sighed it happily back out again.
With the same tremors still addling my hand, I tucked one fingertip just slightly under the edge of her panties, and ran it along the elastic that traced her hip joint.
“Wedding night,” Hannah whispered again, almost like a prayer.
I pushed the crotch of her panties aside, and brushed my fingers over the space again, feeling skin folds and hair much like my own, but not quite like my own. Her folds felt smaller, more orderly, somehow. I had no idea which of us, if either, was more normal.
Hannah gasped and sighed again at the contact, higher, sharper, and faster than last time.
I shifted my legs under me and leaned forward, laying her on her back on the floor, still keeping myself and the clothes on my back as a shield against the air.
I wanted so much to do this right, and I had no idea how it was supposed to go. I only had the shakiest ...
... understanding of what a wedding night between a man and a woman actually involved, let alone between two women.
I started with the basics. Everyone knew that men’s pants were hiding penises, right? Admittedly, I didn’t knowexactly what a penis looked like, but I’d been able to gather from context and jokes that they had to be a long, narrow appendage to fit inside a vagina.
Obviously, I didn’t have a penis, but maybe a finger was similar?
I stretched out the middle, longest finger of my right hand. Longer seemed to have the reputation for being better, plus I knew there were people who used this finger to say something close to “eff you,” so it seemed reasonable that that might be something you could actuallydo with it.
Pressing the back of my hand to my pelvis, so that my finger was in (I was pretty sure) the approximate right position for a penis, I ran the fingertip along the folds of Hannah’s skin, looking for the curtain-like split in the center, and then, in the center ofthat, the entrance to a passage.
I’d attempted this only a couple times on myself, out of curiosity, and found it difficult enough then, even with the ability to feel where I was going from both sides. I mostly remembered it hurting, the passage was so small, but God had designed this all to work somehow. Maybe this moment, the shared contact, the significance coursing through my system and, I hoped, Hannah’s, would make it work better now.
By some miracle, I found Hannah’s opening ...