The Psychology Of Eating Pussy

Lila got dragged into Sarah Vandella’s office for one reason: parents found out about the hallway make-out with another girl. She sat there stiff, legs crossed, eyes darting to the clock. Sarah didn’t waste time on small talk. Just sat back in that leather chair and threw questions like knives—Had Lila thought about kissing again? How wet did it make her? What exactly she pictured when she touched herself at night? Lila’s face burned, but the answers started coming out slow, then fast, almost relieved. Ten minutes later Sarah had her coat off, blouse open. Lila stared at the open legs in front of her and made the choice: crawled forward, pulled panties aside, and put her mouth where the heat was. Sarah grabbed her hair, pushed her deeper. Lila licked, sucked, learned what she liked, what Sarah moaned for, tasting another woman for the first time. The room smelled like sweat and leather. She stayed on her knees until Sarah came hard against her tongue, hips bucking, thighs shaking. Lila pulled back, lips wet, breath short. She still wouldn’t say the word lesbian, not out loud. But she licked her mouth clean, hungry for more, already hooked on the taste.