Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I just have a fetish for stealing her character's virginities.


Our story began one day in the school's playground. I was on the swings minding my own business, ferociously keeping my favourite toy from the other kids. No, I wasn't a good sport; the swings were mine, end of story. Somehow my most vicious warning failed to impress the new kid, a little princess wearing a pink frilly dress and a ribbon on her pretty blond hair. I hated her immediately.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a bitch in training. I had a very good reason for my ill feelings towards mini-Barbie. Edward was looking at her. Actually, staring would be more precise. Just to be clear, he was mine and I wasn't willingly to share. Better she learned sooner, rather than later.

She had the gall to stand before me and, with a sweet smile upon her too perfect face, ask if I would push her on the swing. As if I would let her have it. I was inclined to mark my territory by pulling her hair when I noticed Edward making his way towards us. Stupid boy would surely side with her; after all he had always liked the weaklings.

Desperate times called for swift actions, so I gave up my seat and begrudgingly agreed to push her on the swing. Edward beamed at me, clearly pleased by my good will towards blondie. Maybe my mom was right after all and good things happened to good people, or in my case, people who pretended to be good.

Bewildered, I noticed that I was actually enjoying myself. Every time I would pushed her, a sweet smell would fill my nostrils, it was better than gum and that's saying a lot. The girl's laughter was exactly how I imagined the fairies from the stories would sound like. She was simply a pleasure to look at, a delight to be around. Annoyed with my mushy observations, I decided it was time to end the good girl act. Giving the swing a hard tug, I made the girl fall face down on the sand. If I remember correctly, there was even blood. I was sort of a bully and enjoyed immensely to make her cry.

I got into a lot of trouble because of that little stunt. Worst of all, Edward didn't come to my window for a whole week and when I confronted him about it, he said I should first apologize to the girl, only then he would be my friend again. Resenting boys and their lame demands, I approached Barbie and said I was sorry. As luck would have it, blondie had a streak of bitchness. She accepted my apology but first threw a handful of sand into my eyes. It was the first time she made me cry.

At least Edward was sympathetical to my plight, he held my hand while the nurse attended to my battle wounds. He was so sweet and attentive, making me feel like a lovely princess, even though I would never admit to it. That day he bought me strawberry ice-cream, later he came to my room where we talked and played, having fun as if nothing was amiss.

As days went by, I noticed a slight change on the playground's balance of power. Kids were approaching me, making an effort to befriend me. That was strange, after all queens don't have friends, they have subjects. It was subtle but eventually I figured out what had changed. I was no longer the playground's bully, evil Barbie was.

Let me tell you, blondie was even worse than I was. While I only resorted to physical coercion on occasion, for her it was the only way to rule. But hey, every subject has he queen they deserve. Or something like that. So, I never bothered to reclaim my "queendom"(in my six year old mind kingdom was for boys, queendom for girls) , as far as I was concerned having Edward was better than battling a usurper. Since the object of my affections seemed to like me better as a commoner, I graciously abdicated my throne.

The new queen was a tyrant hated by the totality of the kids in our grade. Secretly, I was kind of envious, since I never achieved said feat. Whatever, life goes on and when you are six all the maladies can be cured by a dose of sugar and the undivided interest of your best friend. Being who he was, Edward didn't care for evil blondie's behaviour. That suited me just fine.

Weeks went by, and the evil entity haunting the playground extended her reign of terror to the classroom, hallways and bathroom. The conceited blob of gold actually thought her title would go undisputed. Little did she know that I hadn't been defeated, I was simply planning a coup d'etat. My come back would be remembered for generations to come, or grades... Anyway...

Whenever evil Barbie would go to the bathroom she always used the same stall, the freak was picky that way. I knew because I had been following her around, you know intelligence work is the basis of a solid campaign. Taking it as the perfect opportunity to humiliate my nemesis, I planted myself on her preferred stall. Eventually she came, as I knew she would. Giving me the bitch eye, she ordered me out of HER stall. Yeah, enjoy it nitwit for revenge was mine to take. Of course, I had left a little gift behind. The bomb went off burying the queen in shit.

Laughing my ass off, I was so pleased that I forgot to consider the most important part of any scheme, the escape plan. So much for intelligence... The two of us were dragged to the Principal's office. From afar, Edward eyed me reproachfully. Yet another aspect I had failed to take into account. Sighing, I questioned the wisdom of my coupe, after all so many problems had already arisen.

The principal was old, like drop dead old, but she was no fool. The decrepit woman was well aware of our little war and instead of suspending me, the perpetrator of the last hit, she suspended both of us. That day she became my hero. Evil Barbie was covered in shit, suspended from school but her tears were the cherry on the top of the sundae. I was so happy I actually laughed, the principal scolded me, nothing new there. But Barbie looked at me with so much hurt in her eyes; it was creepy to tell you the truth. She was a bully, I was a bully, we bullied each other, end of story. There was nothing to be hurt about, right?

Our parents were called and all that jazz. Renée was familiar with the procedures, having endured the shame of a badly behaved daughter more times than she cared to count. I would be punished, surely, no desert for a week, maybe two. I would have to get Edward on my side, he usually smuggled candy to me whenever I was grounded. Now, that would be a difficult task, the boy had way too much scruples to my taste.

We were leaving the building when I saw Barbie's mom dragging her by the ear promising a good whipping when they got home. I felt sort of bad for her, never having endured bodily punishments I couldn't really sympathise, but Edward always said they were the worst. I decided that evil Barbie totally deserved it; after all she tried to steal my queendom.

Mom questioned me about the reason why there was so much animosity between me and blondie. Being a mature, articulated six year old I answered that she was too blond, too pretty, too perfect and I hated her. Surprisingly, the ever chatty Renée eyed me speculatively, seeming to understand some deeper truth about the situation. Smiling softly, she said she was glad I had found it so early in life. She told me to always fight for my heart's wish, no matter what other people said about it.

Flighty as she was, Renée quickly abandoned the issue. Grabbing the car keys, she blew me a kiss, saying she would be back soon. I never saw her again. A drunk driver cut short the life of a much beloved mother. My memories about that night are unclear, the only solid image my mind was able to keep was one of a teary eyed boy, hugging me and holding my hand.

Weeks later when I came back to school, blondie came out of nowhere hugged me and kissed my cheek. She said that if I ever wanted anyone bit up all I had to do was tell her. Weirdly enough, that cheered me up. And she ceased being blondie and became Rosalie, my best friend.

We were always together, co-regents of the playground. Edward tagged along as Prime-Minister, the defender of the oppressed masses. Even then, he was self-righteous and boringly moral, always aligning with those who couldn't defend themselves. He was usually banned from our company whenever he started to lecture us, for we had the power and we were not afraid of yielding it. Truth be told we had more fun when it was just the two of us playing.

One day, my father and her mother met at the grocery store and they arranged for a playdate. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it, for some reason having another child around always put me in a foul mood. Maybe it was my jealous streak... Besides Edward no other child had ever visited my home, but he barely counted since he had this way of behaving like an adult. It used to creep my mom out, it was actually sort of funny watching her fleeing from him.

When the day for the damned date came I was resentful. First she invaded my playground and now she insinuated herself into my home. Yeah, she was my best friend but she was also a menace that had to be stopped. Outright confrontation was not a possibility; the girl was freakishly huge for a seven year old. I would have to rely on my wits to win this battle. So, I bravely endured the "playdate", for as experience had already proved, observation was the best tactic.

The answer to my conundrum surprisingly came from our parents. They were making eyes at each other. God, that was gross. Adults had this disgusting need to be all over each other. Like the time I went to my parents' bedroom and my dad was naked on top of my mom. The vomit I had been bravely keeping inside spilled all over their carpet. It was their own fault, if they wanted to play together they should do it like Edward and I did it, clothed and never too close, 'cause after all boys are not all that fond of hygiene.

But I digress... So, coming back to the mating habits of the adults, I knew that Rosalie missed her father terribly and had resorted to all sorts of artifices to keep her mother's would be suitors away. See, she had this notion that if her mother never remarried, her father would eventually divorce his new wife and come back to them. How I knew it? Well, some of the better tricks she played were born out of my wicked mind, like the time she told her mom that man number four was a pedophile. I didn't know what the word meant, I just overheard my father saying that it was bad to have one around children. It worked wonders, the man even left town.

My plan was machiavellian on its simplicity. Sitting on a corner of the playground I summoned tears and sobs, you know, to add to the dramatic atmosphere. She found me and after much prodding I told her the reason behind the tears. I almost felt sorry for what I was about to do, but did it anyway. I told her that I thought my father and her mother would get married. Well, if before I almost felt sorry, right then seeing the tears on her cerulean blue eyes, I would have given anything to take the words back. Damn me and my bitchy ways.

From that day on we became allies, putting our pretty heads together we devised a battle plan. First and foremost we were to become enemies; surely two annoying children bugging the hell out of each other would put a significant dent on the adults plans. That backfired, they cunningly united against us, hell bent on the idea that if we spent more time together our animosity would be overcome. It sucked, because we actually had heaps of fun and it was a bitch to disguise it.

Their "relationship" was progressing rapidly and nothing we had tried seemed to stop them. We were constantly being thrust together, and it was fine by me as long as we were not at my house. On one of those occasions, Rosalie and I were forced to stay in the living room while the parents cooked "dinner". I was never one for cartoons, as soon as the adults were out of the room I changed to Discovery Channel. I was a bit kinky even then; I loved to watch the animals mating. That episode feature a tigress jealous of the attention the male was paying to another female.

Like a revelation from heaven, it came to me, the final solution. Rosalie was as thrilled as I about the idea, we were sure it was going to work. The next day we went to visit Mrs. Clearwater, the town's light skirt. She was married to a man thirty years her senior who "couldn't get it up", whatever that meant. All I knew is that she had set her cap on my dad. Due to my poor academic performance, I had long ago developed the skill of imitating my father's handwriting; it was extremely useful in signing my bulletin cards. We put a note beneath her door, it was safe enough since everyone knew old Harry couldn't bend his knees.

E delivered a similar letter to Rosalie's mom. Both notes contained something I copied from a movie, one of those with bunches of naked people in it, you know the kind. It said something along the lines of a role play, so the woman was to enter the house, get naked and in bed with him; the door would be unlocked, I would take care of it.

When the time for the midnight rendezvous came, well, all hell broke loose. I buried my head beneath the covers and tried not to feel guilty, but the sound of Rosalie's mom's tears and my father's pleading intruded anyway. The days that followed were gloomy, for my father was even sadder than he was when my mother died. It was the holidays, so I didn't see Rosalie either. Only Edward kept me company, but it wasn't the same anymore. Right after my mom's death, his habit of climbing to my window had been discovered and he had been peremptorily forbidden from doing it. My nights were quite lonely without him, but at least he was there during day light.

A week had passed when a tap to the window woke me. Dazed I thought it was Edward disobeying his parents commands... well, that would have been a first. But it was a crying Rosalie mumbling about undoing the evil we had caused. It took me some time to calm her enough so that she could explain what had brought her to my bedroom. She said her mom was sad and crying, that we should confess what we had done because she wanted her mother happy.

The emotions I had been suppressing burst through and I raged. I didn't want a new mother, I couldn't stand the thought of another woman living in my mother's house, I hated Rosalie's mom because she was alive while my own mother was dead and buried. I collapsed to the floor feeling lonely and wretched, but a pair of thin arms enveloped me and an angelical voice soothed my hurt. We spent the whole night together locked in an embrace. In the morning we called her mother and after a lot of cajoling, she joined my father on our living room. We confessed our crime and faced the consequences of our actions.

A year later our parents married on a beautiful ceremony on our backyard. By then I had made my peace with the idea of a new woman living in my house. Rosalie's mother was sweet and extremely patient, she never forced me into a situation I was not comfortable with, instead she gave me time to adjust to her presence. Having Rosalie around wasn't half bad, I actually liked the little baggage.

In no time, our little family was set on a routine. It was pleasant enough, I suppose. The brighter side was having Rosalie around all the time. Unlike most sisters we didn't fight over every inconsequential thing, we actually got along magnificently. Every night she would come to my room, and we, reluctantly on my part, would play dress up. I hated being made a Barbie doll, but it gave me the perfect excuse to touch her hair. It was so shinning and soft, my hands itched for the feel of it. We started to share Edward, we shared everything else, so it wasn't a big deal. He was all too happy to be in our company, because he thought we were both really pretty.

But paradise was short lived and by the time we were eleven our parents got a divorce. There were no bitter words or resentment, they had simply drifted apart. Even though my dad was okay with their departure, I wasn't. After the divorce, Rosalie and her mom moved to another town. I missed her bitterly, for she was my best friend and I loved her so much. It hurt to think of her doing with another girl all the things she did with me... playing dress up, telling her secrets, sleeping on her bed. I was so jealous of this new, unnamed girl.

Fortunately Edward was there to console me. We spent a lot of time together and by the time we reached thirteen our bodies started to change. To my everlasting mortification my boobs started to grow and damn things forgot to stop. It got to the point that no matter how much I hunched my back the things just jutted out. I hated it. Edward got a really bad case of acne and a weird voice to go with it. However, the greatest change came with the hormonal explosion that accompanies puberty.

Edward, my most trusted friend, started to act weird. He was always putting his arm around me and insisting to carry my books. He constantly found a pretext for us to spend time alone and every time a boy talked to me, he would appear out of nowhere and dismiss the poor fool none too gently. Some nights he would come to my room and we would spent hours together like we used to. But it wasn't exactly the same, for he sometimes would stare at my boobs for a long time. The odd part was that the tips responded to his perusal, they tingled and elongated. I was mortified by my response. Then he would grunt and immediately leave. I thought he was disgusted by it.

One day, I broke the silence and confronted him. He just stared at me dumbfound and left. I was deeply hurt by his reaction. However, the next day I was visited by his mother. Her lecture on sex and my body responses was vexing to say the least, but helpful, nevertheless, since I would get my first period a week from then. I finally understood what had been going on. Edward thought we were together, like dating. I wasn't disgusted by the idea but I wasn't thrilled, it was just okay. But he was my best friend and if he wanted to date me, so be it. I couldn't imagine allowing anyone else to be that close to me.

That night he sheepishly came to my window, asking forgiveness for his reaction the other night. I dismissed his excuse and actually thanked him for asking a very difficult favour from his mom. Putting the unpleasantness out of the way, I decided it was time to explore so I kissed him. As far as first kisses go it was good enough, a little sloppy but endurable. From then on our physical relationship developed beautifully. Recalling all the porn I had seen as a child, I gave Edward lots of ideas about what we should do and how to go about it.

He was partial to sucking my nipples and fingering me. I liked to suck his nipples too, even though he said it wasn't manly of him to enjoy it so much. Boys, they are even stupider when they grow up. I sucked his cock, but it was for his benefit, I took absolutely no pleasure from it. One time he tried to go down on me, I was so disgusted that I bolted out of bed and didn't talk to him for a week.

By the time we were seventeen we had done pretty much everything except having vaginal intercourse. Once I had even allowed him to put it in my ass. It seemed like a good idea, gay men seemed to enjoy it. Well, I didn't and although Edward always asked to do it again I never allowed. It was freaking undignifying, I had farted for a week non stopping after our little experiment. Never again.

We were in the middle of discussing the most ancient dilemma known to men to fuck or not to fuck) when we heard the rumours of a new student arriving on the next week. Actually, returning would have been more precise. Rosalie was moving back to town. For some unfathomable reason that propelled me to make up my mind. That night I opened my legs and allowed Edward to take my virginity, it was painful, but, hey, it had to happen eventually, right?

Edward was exceedingly happy with his non-virgin status, he smiled more and was more than affectionate to me. Of course, every night he visited my bed. I never really had an orgasm but there was some pleasure, so I welcomed him. He always wore a condom, being a minor I couldn't get birth control without my father's knowledge.

I didn't want to admit but I was counting the days to Rosalie's return. I was hurt by her silence, she never returned my e-mails and since her move she never called me either. But at the same time I was elated by the prospect of seeing her again. I wondered what she looked like now... if her hair was still shinny, her skin smooth... what her boobs looked like... Startled by the direction of my thoughts, I switched my mind away from the topic and convinced Edward to skip class. The promise of a quickie behind the school can make a boy amazingly complacent.

A few days later. we were on the school's parking lot when the most beautiful creature I had ever seen appeared. Rosalie was tall, blond and heartbreakingly beautiful. My heart bit a little faster and my entire body tingled in awareness. When her eyes found mine, something changed, the air seemed heavier and the world stopped. She smiled and enveloped me on her embrace, she tried to kiss my cheek but ended up putting her lips to the corner of my mouth. And just like that I was hornier than I had ever been. We talked and made plans of meeting after school. I was in denial, so I simply ordered Edward back to the car. Climbing on the back seat, I mounted him and spent my lust, at least for the moment.

The last class of the day was gym and yeah, I still hated undressing before the other girls. I was always looking around taking stock of their bodies, paying attention to the details of their anatomy. My eyes always lingered on Angela, for she had small boobs and once or twice I got a glimpse of really dark nipples. I told myself that my interest was pure jealousy, since I wanted to have boobs just like hers. But on that specific day, all my attention was riveted on Rosalie.

She had shocked all the other girls when she took her shirt off, for she wasn't wearing a bra. They were creamy white, very round, a solid C-cup by my estimation. The areolas were big and her nipples seemed small, but I wondered how they would look like after being excited, if they would be long and hard or tiny and delicate. Seeing my interest, she winked and turned to put on her sports bra. Bemused I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze, waking up only when Rosalie came over to my house.

The awkwardness I felt was dispelled by the old familiarity we shared. She had this way of putting me at ease and we talked for hours, about every little experience we had during our years apart. When we came to the subject of boys, Rosalie turned skirmish and seemed unsettled when I told her about Edward. I was intrigued but chose not to force the issue. She said goodbye with a kiss precisely placed on my cheek and I was disturbed to realize that I'd rather she had missed it again.

We reconnected and became the best of friends, sharing all those delightful pleasures all teenager girls indulge in. My group of friends accepted her with open arms, so every outing she was there keeping me company, since Edward often left me to my own devices, preferring to join the other boys on their antics. Strangely she never went out with any of the numerous boys who asked. I was particularly thrilled; it meant she had more time for me. I craved her presence like nothing else, so I grasped any chance to spend time alone with her.

She was a sweet, caring girl, always engaged in charity work. Sometimes she even managed to drag me along. I begrudgingly went but secretly I relished those occasions, for it was just the two of us even though we were required to work. It was on one of those occasions that my world tilted in its axes. She was supposed to go to the deposit and bring the rest of the clothes we were to distribute, but half a hour passed and she still hadn't come back. I went to look for her and was stunned by the sight that greeted my eyes. She was behind the church with another girl. They were kissing and the girl's hand was beneath Rosalie's shirt.

I went ballistic. Made irrational by a ruthless wave of primal jealousy I yanked the girl away shouting the foulest words I knew. The girl was smart enough to run away from my drama queen impersonation. Turning to Rosalie, my angry tirade died on my lips for there was so much pain on her beautiful eyes that my heart constricted painfully for her. The next thing I know she slapped my face, shouting that I had no right, to what I didn't understand. It was the second time she made me cry.

Blinded by anger, I enclosed myself on the certainty that my violent reaction was due to her lies. By omitting to confide in me she had wounded our friendship beyond repair and I wanted distance from her. I didn't bother to analyse the fact that even if she had told me about her preference for girls I would have been dismayed by the sight of her with another girl. I wasn't ready yet to look that deep within my soul.

The next few days were tense and all of our friends sensed that there was something wrong between us. The truth was that I had realized how selfish and childish I had been, I just didn't know how to apologize to her. If she wanted to kiss a girl I had no right to stop her, after all she never interfered on my relationship with Edward, I should at least return the same courtesy.

My chance for grovelling came on the next weekend. Angela was throwing a pool party just for us girls, no boys allowed. Her father was a minister and having teenager boys drooling all over us wouldn't do. I was wearing a blue one piece, nothing too risqué. The other girls were pretty much the same and except for the brief sight of Angela's nipple, there wasn't much to hold my attention. Until Rosalie came out of the house, wearing the tinniest bikini I had ever seen. It barely concealed her nipples and her ass was completely exposed.

While she moved her breasts bounced gently, her sensuous legs extended for miles, leading to a place that was most certainly shaved, given the size of her bikini. A moan almost escaped from me, but I managed to suppress it. I was wet and aching, imagining what would feel like to touch her uncovered body. There, surrounded by my friends, under the glaring sun of a summer afternoon, the truth finally downed on my obtuse mind. I didn't look to girl's bodies because I wanted to be like them. I did it because I desired to feel the texture of their skin, to experience their taste, to explore their intimate parts.

Being sexually attracted to girls didn't make me a lesbian, right? I had been fucking Edward for over a year and it was enjoyable. If I was a lesbian I would be disgusted by it, right? Maybe I was bisexual... but I didn't want to believe on that possibility, so I shoved it aside. Later I would brood over the matter. Right then I had something more important to deal with.

Rosalie quietly listened to my less than perfect apology. Being the marvellous person that she was, I was promptly forgiven. We hugged and smiled, lost in each other's gaze. It was a happy day, spent in friendly company. We laughed and played, unconcerned about the future that soon would become present.

On the months that followed, I noticed a growing bond between Rosalie and Angela. Being privy to Rosalie's secret I could see that the nature of their relationship was amorous, rather than friendly. I should have been happy for them, they were both dear friends and they deserved to have somebody to love. But I couldn't deny the fact that I was insanely jealous. I wanted to be the one running my fingers through Rosalie's hair, my tongue exploring her mouth while our bodies pressed together.

Despite my undeniable urges, I was convinced it was just lust. Edward ripped the benefits of the lie I told to myself, for I was constantly accosting him, trying to burn out the need I felt for another. Being a teenager boy he never questioned his good luck and he never complained about doing all the work. He was so excited by the continued activity that he failed to realize my lack of enthusiasm. I just lay there waiting for him to be over, whatever pleasure I had previously experienced was nowhere to be found.

To make things worst Rosalie had confided that she and Angela had kissed a couple of times. I felt sick, betrayed, angry. And my convoluted mind couldn't figure out why I was so shaken. Enduring her graphic description of what they did and how much she enjoyed it, was the hardest thing I had ever done. But I did it because she was my friend and I wanted her to be happy; as happy as I should be with Edward.

Watching their blossoming relationship was destroying my heart, but I wasn't ready to acknowledge it yet. Prom was approaching and being head of the committee I was constantly busy; it suited me just fine since it spared me from coming up with lies to explain my absent mind to my loving boyfriend. However, three days before the big event, Rosalie cornered me into a heartfelt talk.

Bluntly said, Angela wanted to have sex with Rosalie who happened to be a virgin, therefore she was extremely anxious about it. I was paralyzed with grief. My Rosalie was talking about giving herself to another girl. They would share a beautiful experience and they would be forever especial to each other. My breath hitched and my body shuddered in pain. My mind was completely frozen, I only had enough intellect to mumble an excuse and walk away from Rosalie.

I managed to avoid both Angela and Rosalie until prom night. Our group was sharing a limo. I had to sit and watch their closeness, their affection so patent that our friends started to get suspicious. No one really cared about what they did, they were just curious. As much as the others wanted to know, I wished I could forget. Unbeknown to me Edward had grasped the gist of my problems and planned a confrontation.

Which brings me to this moment. We are in the middle of the floor surrounded by other couples. I simply can't believe what Edward has just said. He simply told me to go to her. I have to say that his version of confrontation holds a startling likeness to defeat. Edward was always wise beyond his years, he sees where my heart truly is and being a gentleman is kindly offering me a way out.

Edward knows me better than I know myself. And he just told me to go to her. It took me a long time but I am finally had to accept what my heart has been telling me. Rosalie is beautiful, kind and loving. She is my best friend. And I´m in love with her. She deserves to know it so she can make an informed decision. Giddy with happiness, since I finally can put a name to my feelings I look at Edward and smile in gratitude. He is awesome through and through.

I spot Angela standing by the doors, following her gaze I see Rosalie going to the bathroom. This is it, my last chance to make her mine. My heart is thumping wildly inside my chest, my hands are sweating, my body shacking in fear and excitement. Entering the bathroom I check the stalls, seeing that there is only Rosalie and me, I lock the door. We are going to need privacy for our talk.

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. This is possibly the most important moment of my life. I remember my mother's last words to me. Oh, Renée, you were really a witch... Please, mom help me get my heart's wish. Next thing I know, Rosalie is standing right before me, a bemused expression on her face. This is it, no more denial...

"Rose, please don't go with her. I met you first, I desired you first, I loved you first. And even though she loved you better, please choose me. Love of my heart, mistress of my soul, give me the chance to become everything you need. I'm headstrong and obtuse, less than perfect in every way. But I'm yours for the taking or for the leaving. Whatever you decide, I shall respect. I just couldn't let you..."

Her soft lips silence mine and her arms encircle me. I fell like it is my first kiss, for I had never felt the urgent pull of desire before. We move in synchrony, stepping into each other's embrace, our bodies aligning on the most delicious way. My hand cups her beloved face, caressing her smooth skin. Sighing she breaks the kiss and smiles down at me, her eyes are shinning with unshed tears, so much love on her tender face.

"Thank God, I was starting to lose hope. Take me home baby, just let me show how much I love you."

For the third time in my life I am crying over this woman, but now my tears are shed in happiness. I know what taking her home will entail, but surprisingly I'm not afraid. I'm ready to claim her for my own, and become completely hers. The driver of the limo looks at us strangely but thankfully refrains to make any comment. We sit apart and quietly suffer the hide home. My dad is on duty so we have the house to ourselves.

We are silent as we make our way to my bedroom, the same one where we had shared so many nights before. It is awkward at first but what hell, I want her and I am going to have her. So I take the initiative and kiss her pink pouting mouth. She sinks into my embrace and eagerly strokes her tongue against mine eliciting a moan so deep that my whole body trembles.

My hand is unsteady while I trace the contours of her body. Gathering all the courage I could muster I cup her deliciously round breast. Through the fabric of her dress I feel the nipple puckering. My thumb traces circles around her flesh, denying the contact she obviously wants. Impatiently she arches into my hand, demanding, commanding.

But I have other plans. Turning her around I unzip her dress, baring her creamy back to my gaze. Unhurriedly I shower kisses down the length of her spine, nibbling on her butt. It is absolutely round, high and perky. I lick my way back to her neck reaching around to feel the weight of her naked breasts for the first time. We both grunt at the contact. It is just so good to feel softness on my hands, so right to be with her this way.

Stepping around her I lift her breast, licking her areola. I put my hand on her other breast and gently pinch her nipple, at the same time I finally take her other nipple into my mouth and suck eagerly. I spend a great deal of time teasing her tits before I guide her to the bed. Yeah, apparently I'm a tit woman.

It's time I get naked, I'm dizzy with desire while I practically rip the dress from my body. My breasts are swollen and I need to feel her hands on my skin. She runs her hands down my body, her mouth on my aching tits fill me with fire and I surprise myself by pushing her down on the bed. I kiss her neck, her collarbones and yeah, of course I spare some minutes on her breasts. I lick her bellybutton and continue my way down. Her legs fall open and I take the opportunity to run my nose down her pussy lips. It's something I have never imagined possible, but her smell actually arouses me.

I suck her intimate lips into my mouth, my tongue soothing the sting of my suction. I part her flesh, finally seeing all the beauty that is my Rose. It's so beautiful I want to weep. Instead, I let my tongue enter her, while my fingers torment her clit. She is a writhing mess in no time begging me for more.

Switching places, I alternate between sucking her clit and laving it with my tongue, while my finger enter her gripping channel. When I insert a second finger she comes so hard I'm afraid she is going to wake up the neighbours. I hug her fiercely because even though my body is still unsatisfied, my soul is singing with love and hope for a future together with the woman I love.

Besides the night is young and we are women which means that we can go at it until we drop dead of exhaustion. Oh, what a sweet way to go...


Meanwhile, Edward is being consoled by a very understanding Angela. Soon, they will be going to a rented motel room. Angela is going to lose her virginity and Edward his heart. And all thanks to a plan devised by two very crafty girls hell bent on breaking apart a couple, that truth be told, was never meant to be on the first place.


Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving your opinion, it would mean the world to me.

Kisses, Mina.