Midnight Stars

By: Davida Clark

Summary: While looking on the sky, one young woman and another become entangled in each others webs.

Warnings: F/F, Femme Slash, lime. This story is femme slash, which means that it contains descriptions of two girls who are in love with each other and a sexual scene. If this isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read. And for those who believe in the Bible, it says in it: “Judge not lest ye be judged”. I’m fore warning you. Read on at your own risk.

I like looking up at the night sky. It’s the only good thing that they have here in the Mid-west. I miss the city so much’ the lights, the cabs, the Empire State building… all of it. And if it couldn’t be any worse, I don’t blend in here at all. And here’s this one chick, she lives next door. She is so strange. She keeps asking me all of these questions about New York City and about my personal life. So what if my parents split up, and I have to live here with my mom, how is it any of her business? I can’t stand being here; I wish I could be with dad. In our 5th avenue loft, looking at the skyline. But I’m not; I’m stuck here, outside, watching the stars in the back of my mom’s boyfriend’s pickup truck. I can’t stand that bastard, already trying to replace my father. He is nothing like my father, and he never will be. I hate them both so much. I’m laying here and then, who comes up to me, but that neighbor girl.

“Hello,” she says, looking into the pickup truck where I’m laying, “what are you doing?”

“Looking at the stars,” I reply indifferently, like it is obvious, “what do you think I’m doing?”

“Lying in the back of a truck.”

I suck my teeth and move away from her, her presence getting on my nerves. I don’t know why, but she takes that as an invitation to lie down next to me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I say, moving even farther to the side.

“Lying down next to you, watching the stars.”

“Don’t you have something better to do with your time than harass me?”

“No not really. Beside, I haven’t met anyone like me before, considering where we are.”

“What are you talking about? Oh, do you mean mixed?”

“No… I’m talking about being a lesbian.”

I look over at her. This strange girl from this little backwater town is into other girls? But wait, I don’t have it posted on my forehead. Nobody knows that I’m a lesbian, not even my mom. I tried to tell her that I was; I even brought my girlfriend over one time. My dad had most of it figured out, but he wouldn’t say. Besides that, he didn’t need to. My mom was the one who was cheating on him. So how could she tell?

“You’re probably wondering how I know.” She says, shaking her head slightly.

I don’t say anything or move.

“I could see it in the way you had a sticker on your notebook’s inside cover, the rainbow sticker. I could see it in your presence, and… I could see it because I like you.”

“You what?” I am dumbfounded.

“I like you. Maybe it’s the way you dress, or that bad girl demeanor that’s slightly butch (‘I am not a butch!’ I think angrily) or the way that you don’t care what others think. But, whatever it is, I like it. A lot.”

I just look. She isn’t a bad looking girl. In fact, she is very attractive. She has strawberry blonde hair, freckles and a super red mouth, like a Kool-Aid stain. She is wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots and a plain white T shirt. Her red gingham over shirt is tied around her waist. She is smiling at me, like she sees what I see.

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“I don’t know; I just wanted to tell you. The selection around these parts is pretty picky. Not many girls around here go for other girls.”

“What if I’m straight? Huh, you never thought of that one did you? What if I’m really into guys, and then what would you do?”

“I’d ask you to give me a chance, just to see if you wouldn’t mind trying it out.”

She is so persistent. But I like that; it shows that she goes after what she wants. But the only thing I don’t like, is giving in. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I like her, so I play hard to get.

“And if I don’t want to try it out?”

“We could just be friends. You can’t hate something that you don’t know. Get to know me, then dismiss me.”

Damn, she has a point. But I can’t. So I just lay there. I lay there like a slug, looking up at the sky. It feels like the longer I look at the stars, the easier this problem gets. And then, she does something unexpected.

She kissed me, right on the mouth. I’m not sure what to do, but my body is. It’s telling me to kiss her right back. I don’t realize that I am until my hands are trailing their way around her waist, as if we have done this plenty of times before. She is letting me do this, letting me unbutton her jeans and slide them down. But I can’t say anything bad about her, because at the same time, she is undoing mine and letting them get closer to my Chuck Taylor’s. She is hesitant about certain things, about touching me, so it makes me wonder, is this her first time. I look into her face, and I see, that it is. Her confidence must have just been an act to get me to a place where I would be ready. I guess she wasn’t planning on me responding so quickly. But I am, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I take her virginity right here, in the literal back of a pickup, or do I wait and plan it for another time? I feel my groin start to do a horrible tightening, and I know that I really want this release. She came here with a plan, and I’m not gong to leave here with it half finished.

I kiss her on the lips knowingly, gently, lovingly, and lower her back into the car. I pull up her shirt and see that she has on a young girl’s bra, like the one you buy just to say that you can wear one, the white cotton one with the bow in the middle. It makes me smile gently, thinking that I hold her very innocence in my hands.

“Please don’t make fun,” she whispers, blushing gently, “it’s the only kind of underwear my mother buys me.”

I grin and move her pants down farther, exposing white, high cut briefs. They look good on her though, they make her flat stomach seem even thinner. I take her boots off and completely take off the pants, pushing them to the side. She is laying there now, her innocence radiating on me, and I take a moment to stop and savor it, the look of purity, a look I haven’t seen in such a long time.

I kiss her on the lips and trail my hand down to her breast, cupping it and playing with the nipple. She gasps and moans; it is a completely new sensation to her. I kiss along her neck and collarbones, seeking out her hotspot. And then, I find it, right behind her ear, where her jaw connects to the rest of her skull. I had never met a girl with a hotspot here. I take her earlobe into my ear and suck on it, and it makes her moan more. I take the bra off of her body and put it to the side, massaging both of them with different rhythms. I trail my kisses down her torso, feeling the ribs underneath the delicate skin, seeing the rise and fall of breath in her diaphragm. I kiss the top of her panties, right at her bellybutton. She smells so good, like soap and spritzer. When I saw her coming, I thought that this would be a quickie romp, but now, now I know for sure just what it was. I ease her panties down and look at her. Her hair is sparse and just a shade darker than the hair on her head. Her hip bones jut as she moves to try to cover herself from my eyes.

“No, don’t.” I manage to say.

“But I feel so… naked.”

“It’s okay. I just want to see you.”

I look up at her face and see a goddess. Her skin torso skin is perfect, with tiny freckles on her breasts. She has a line, right above the gentle, slightly damp waves, which speaks of a hernia operation. Her thighs aren’t completely creamy; she has two scars, gently cuts on them. Her knees hold the battle wounds of a tomboy, a scraped knee, a cut on her shin, the fading scars from mosquito bites of summers past. I trail my hand down these calves and get to the socks that reach the halfway point. I take those off too, and I see long, delicate feel, with slightly chipped nail polish in ballerina pink. I kiss the instep gently, the feel of the unmarred skin making me wetter. I kiss the sides of her feet, trailing back up her body, urgency in my journey, until I reach her face, and see two tears trailing down their sides, like Egypt. I kiss her lips then, pushing her to me, assuring her that I am here, and that I won’t go anywhere. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me even harder. I slowly insert one of my fingers into her, the juices flowing out undamned now. She is so tight, so tight and so wet and so hot. She does not moan here, here she squirms. I’m not sure if she squirms because it is uncomfortable, or because she knows that there is no turning back. I search for that gentle pad, somewhere within, and, at first I can’t find it. I turn my hand around and push against her pelvic bone, causing pressure, and pleasure. I have found her g spot. She squirms more; the pleasure is a foreign experience to her. I think she has never masturbated before. I didn’t want to make love to her just yet; I wanted both of us to be ready.

I push away from her and take off my shirt. The air is cold and nips at my newly exposed skin. She runs her hands over my torso, at the muscle and squishy, but thin layer of fat. My bra is black and lace, like one of the Victoria’s Secret ones. It might have been. I take my shoes off, my Happy Bunny socks showing. I fall back to take off my pants, revealing black lace boy shorts, a matching set. The pants are oversized slacks with shredded cuffs. I unhook the front hooks, revealing my large breasts. That was one thing that I thanked being thicker for, I had an amazing figure.

“You are so beautiful,” she says, looking up in awe, “like a goddess.”

I lush at the nice comments. My nipples are getting hard from the cool air whipping at me, and the body in front of me. I unlaced the side of my panties, easy access. I smile and lean my body down onto hers, feeling her warmth next to mine. I don’t think that I have felt so intimate about another person for a very long time. It feels good to have this sort of caring for another person. I began to finger her again, kissing her on the lips hard. I feel her hands going for my dripping wetness and trying to give me pleasure. I smile into her mouth and guide her hand into me, letting her get used to the feeling of me and my body. She tries to do what I do to her, and it feels good, and I moan. She seems to be surprised at my moan, at the easiness in which I feel pleasure. She grows bolder in her strokes, knowing that I know what my limits are. I feel her wince as I insert another finger, and I swear I can feel her body rip, if it is only slightly. I pull the finger out, afraid of shattering her.

“No, it’s okay.” She pants out, nodding her head, the sweat falling.

I realize that I’m out of breath as well, and I gently push it back into her body. She bites her lip and makes a squeaky sound. I remember my first time with a boy, and the sharp little pains that came along with it. I hadn’t thought about that in a very long time. I had started to think that that was all just a dream, a small little dream that was fading from my mind. But I try to stop thinking about it, this was her time. My time; our time. I begin to push against her hot, hoping that the pleasure will mask any sort of pain that she felt. She pushed me closer to her and wrapped her arms around my neck, as if I was her lifeline. And I feel like it. I feel like we are both balloons and the only thing holding us to the world, to the pickup truck, is each other. We only have each other to hold on to, to keep us from floating to the stars. At one point right now, I just want us to float away, as long as we’re together. I know that if I had heard myself thinking this just a few minutes ago I would have thought that I have lost my mind. And maybe I have. Now that I am thinking about it, is it really that bad of a thing to lose your rationality, only for a few minutes?

I kiss her and sweat down on her, making love. I want to taste her, to feel her juices, but I want to save something for the next time we do this. Like a present for both of us.

She is making love to me as well, and I can feel that that is actually what it is. It is unnerving and gratifying that she is so open with her feelings, it just makes me not want to hurt her, and keep her safe.

I can feel myself growing closer and closer to my climax, and her body doing the same. And then, our bodies make it their, to the stars, together. I push her close to me, and hug her. I hear her say three words as her legs wrap around my waist.

“I love you.”

I hear them, but I ignore them, like the heartless bitch that I know myself to be. I roll over and cover myself in a blanket found in the back. It is scratchy and patchy and it smells like hay and manure, not the silk and velvet sheets that I would have wanted to make it perfect. But, it feels like it was perfect for that occasion. I’m laying there, on my back, looking up at that big beautiful sky, all those stars like Time Square in the air.

She is laying here, a beautiful smile spread across her lips. Now I realize who she has lips like. Julia Roberts. Yep, those are almost exactly like Julia Roberts’ lips, full and without a defined Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” She repeats, playing with one of my black curls that lay there on my shoulder. Her strawberry hair isn’t that thick and falls down to her butt.

I sit up and say the dumbest thing that I could have.

“We have to hurry up and get dressed, in case someone comes out here.”

She looks hurt and covers herself up. I throw my pants and shirt back on, putting my bra and panties into my pockets. I feel terrible, but I’m not used to having to talk to someone after we’ve fucked, especially someone who wanted me so bad.

I don’t want to hurt her, I want her and I to be together. I look up at the stars and mutter an obscenity. She is one of those people who wear her heart on her wrist, where it is so easily damaged. I wear my heart hidden on the tough part of my upper arm. We would be perfect for each other, if only I didn’t already have a girlfriend back in the City…

The End

Or is it?

To Be Continued…

A/N: Wow, this story took me like five days of mood writing to get this whole story done and finished. I might expand it, if I get good feedback. They might even get names! Giggity giggity goo!