A/N I gave Cat pretty much my exact story of how I got into massage. What I learned and where I learned it. These stories never go how I expect: they don't start out how I expect, the middle is never how I planned the middle, and they never end where I was thinking they'd end. So I'm just as surprised as you folks but you are the best fandom in the world and I thank my lucky stars I found other people who ship the cutest couple I ever saw. Hope you like it)

Sam bawled like an adorable little moose when I started to rub her shoulders. "Don't start somethin you can't finish, Little Red." She said, smiling

"Oh, I can finish, Momma. I think everybody in the place is gonna be finishin just fine." I shot right back. I was fine to start over her shirt. Since she was wearing a t shirt that had started out having the sleeves removed and the armholes had migrated down to basically being bare panels, and since this was our Sunday alone day; she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. I could do most of her top half without taking it off. But I wouldn't. Even if she balked I was going to make her insist pretty hard. I had been wanting to get my hands on her thick ropy muscles for a long time. Make massages a regular thing. There was a time when I thought it might be my opening for yummy girl time. I mean who doesn't want a good backrub?

Sam Puckell apparently.

She'd let me rub her shoulders a bit in the beginning. Sometimes she'd even ask for it. Which is tell me to do it where her voice goes up a bit at the end in the way I call the 'puckle please'. She'll never actually say please, but sometimes she'll tell me nice. Which I like. However, after a few minutes she'd say thanks and move away and if I offered to do it more she'd tell me 'that was alright I didn't need to'.

Once she let me be hers she was a little more relaxed about the touching which is why I wanted to use this weekend to make it a regular part of us. I loved to touch, my hands were practically magnets whenever she was around. Just pulled toward her. So I had to get her over her weird touch thing.

If I got my wish and me massaging Sam became a regular thing, I wanted it to be a mix of therapeutic muscle work and yummy stroking. Maybe licks and nibbles. But at this point I didn't want the two confused. And I was already only wearing tanga shorts. Which were cut like boyshorts but were covered in ruffles in a rainbow of shades of pink. So I would have to be extra careful to keep the massaging massagey.

My love of massage started with my Uncle Jesse. He wasn't an uncle I saw a lot so it was special just to see him. and he always wanted me to rub his shoulders. Plus he always made such a big deal about what a good job I did that I thought I had some natural massage gift. So I was always offering to rub everyone's shoulders. No one else made a big deal about it. But nobody complained and hey, free shoulder rub. Although I was just a kid, so I must have had some natural talent for it.

I did honestly love it so when I was a teenager I started taking classes on the weekends at the School of Chinese Medicine in downtown. As well as Swedish massage classes at the local massage college. I never thought of doing it for a job. But I convinced my parents that it was a real career choice I could fall back on, if I didn't make it as a performer. I brought my dad in for an interview with the director of the massage college where I studied Swedish massage and the director showed him that with the hours I had already done, combined with the seminars I had done learning lomi lomi massage when we went to Hawaii on vacation. Plus that day my mother and I took a bus out to spend the day with a Fijian massage master on different vacation in Fiji. I already had the hours required to be a physical therapist's assistant in a hospital. A job that paid the same as an LVN. Not a career I would actually pursue but it got my dad off my back in all likelihood forever. Especially with my brother busy being who he was.

It's funny, I have studied styles from all over the world. Every one was beautiful and every one of them taught me something different and amazing. But the greatest lesson. What I believe makes my massage different; is a lesson I learned from a man who was almost certainly a pervo. In a class I should have never been allowed into and I very quickly left.

It was a Tantric Massage class. Tantric Massage is a real thing. Just like Tantric Yoga is a real thing. And hardest for an outsider to understand is an advanced practitioner teaching an advanced student, can be doing all those sexy things the charlatans do and be really teaching a real class. They don't have to be, advanced tantra is every bit as much about a thousand other things, but sex is part of it. Because sex is part of the universe. Just like a beginning teacher teaching a beginning class can talk about those same sexy things. and be entirely legitimate. Although equally speaking only of a fragment of the whole. You know you are in a grey area if you are naked in a beginning class. But the field is so maddeningly large if you are only touching yourself or a trusted partner you still might be fine. You can only be absolutely certain you are in a sham class if the instructor is touching you or another student is touching you at the instructor's instruction.

Anyway my great revelation out of the mouths of creepers: So this was last summer, a month or two before I met Sam. So I am not 18 yet, as I am still not. I am in Tantric Massage which I can go into what it actually is but prefer to define as the instructor did as: Sex Energy Massage or Sensual Energy Massage is better. Keeping in mind he said Tantra can best be described to Americans as Indian Sex Magic . Keeping equally in mind that if I said that it was somewhere between Taoism and the massage, energy healing, counseling, practised in India before the rise of Vedanta I would be drastically over simplifying but much closer to the truth.

This is how the Downtown School of Chinese Medicine worked. Because of The laws of alternative medicine were between ridiculous and non-existant and the chinese medicine school was owned and operated by the same two chinese brothers who opened it in 1977 and ran it as they saw fit. the teachers , sometimes spoke nearly no english, sometimes were brilliant but smelly hippies who lived in VW vans and showered at the school when they showered at all, and sometimes they were consumate professionals. It was a mixed bag.

I do not know what qualifications if any this guy had. I am ninety percent sure people got naked after I left. I felt something a little off from the first moment. But I thought I'd stick it out.

The man passed around the softest little stuffed bunny I have ever felt in my life, I don't know what it was made of, microfiber maybe. But it was crazy soft. After we had all patted the bunny he said, "Did anyone try to touch the bunny so the bunny felt good?... Of course not it was a stuffed bunny, couldn't feel anything. But that is what is called a taking touch. you were feeling the bunny. You were not trying to make the bunny feel. And a taking touch will always feel different than a giving touch. Both to the toucher and to the touchee. Now that is what you must learn when you are touching your lover. Yes you are giving your lover a massage. But you must always touch your lover with a taking touch. You must always feel your lover. They will feel the difference and it will convey your wanting to them. When you touch your lover with a giving touch, you are pushing them away at the energy level. You are pushing your energy against their energy. Instead your energy must yield. You do not want to pull their energy out and take their energy away. You just want to pull it toward you while keeping it within their body. It is like a wave in the ocean. The actual water is moving very little. It is the energy of the water that is moving. Just like sound waves through air. the air moves very little, just enough to bump the next air particle and carry the energy wave. Now if Cat would like to come up and lay on the table. We will all gather around and practice touching her with a taking touch."

I was out of there like a shot. I was polite and all, but seriously. First he was talking about lovers not clients. Then he wants to practice on me? Fully clothed or not, a room full of people are not practicing their 'taking touch' on me. It absolutely did make sense though. And there is no question I have worked it into my massaging. This is not the time to get into the energy practices of therapeutic massage. But I will say that on that level there are plenty of uses for the knowledge of the difference between a taking and a giving touch and ever since that class I have often wondered why it is not taught more widely in the field.

I could not help but touch Sam with a taking touch. I wanted to constantly be touching her. It was like my drug. And I couldn't give myself to her anymore. I belonged to her. I had given myself to her completely before we had even put our love into words.

So I knelt behind Sam, because she was leaning forward on the couch and I dug the heels of my hands into her back feeling her shirt and her back under that. Feeling muscle and bone. She was so strong, strong like a boy but better. I didn't want to think better, but I did. She was better than a boy. She was better than Goomer. She was better than Beck and Andre. I didn't just like her better, she was better than them. And it made me feel good to admit it to myself. And it made me feel bad that I thought that even in my head. I said to myself that everybody's equal. But then I said. Not her. Not Sam. And I kissed her neck Because I couldn't help myself, even though this was supposed to be just a massage. Because I can never help myself. But it's easy to forgive myself, because it's understandable, cause she's so pretty and kissable. I said, "Sam, sing me a song."

And she doesn't want to, but I ask real nice, cause she sings so pretty. Then she does. But I'm not gonna say what song it was, cause it was for me.

Then I put my arms around her and I hold her so close so I know she can feel my breasts in her back. I know I gotta hold her real close for that, and I say, "I'm not ever gonna stop you know."

"Not ever gonna stop what?" She asks real quiet, like a whisper but not so harsh.

"Not ever gonna stop any of this. Not ever gonna stop lovin you, or touching you or rubbing your back. Not ever gonna stop doing little things for you. It's never going to be enough to show you how much I love you. Because there isn't an enough. There isn't a number big enough, and there isn't a measure big enough. There aren't enough hours left in time. There aren't enough hugs in the universe. There aren't enough enoughs; because you will always be more than enough for me. You will always be the most. The most beautiful. The most perfect. The most wonderful. You are my sun, my moon, my stars, my earth and my planets. You are my everything. Plus one"

She looked at me and smiled. "My everything plus one."

Then I stood up and turned her around so she was on her knees, leaning on her arms crossed on the back of the couch. Her adorable perfect bottom in the air, her wonderful dreamy back tabled out for me to rub. I stood on the other side of the couch so I could lean over it toward her bottom and rub down, swiveling with my hips as I rubbed. Down and swivel and up and swivel. Rub down one side on the down-swivel then up that side then down the other side on that side's swivel. Then up on that side's up-swivel.

Then locking the heels of my hands into her hip-joints and swiveling her hips with me to loosen the muscles. Then I moved up to massage her shoulder blades with my fingertips pulling the big open sides up far enough easily to get at her smooth skin.

Moving back up I started at the top of her spine moving my thumbs down along the sides, pressing deep and moving so slowly as I worked my way vertebrae by vertebrae down her spine, until I reached her tailbone. Then I came back up doing the same thing again this time I took each side in turn and starting at her spine I dragged my fingers out across the back of her rib-cage. Then another trip down her back. I spent a good four or five minutes working her hips and lower back before moving quickly over her shorts clad bottom and thighs. Able to actually start the massage on her calves.

Just to drop some knowledge in a one sentence definition: the difference between a backrub and a massage was you can't do a massage with clothes on. Not on any part of the body your massaging. I mean if I was talking to the folks at the school of Chinese medicine, then yes, medicinal massage. If I was massaging in a hospital, even a western hospital I would massage with clothes on. But there is certainly no exchange of energy, no taking or giving touch. Obviously what I was doing on Sam's bum and thighs wasn't a backrub.

Which is where, the bastard child 'sports massage' comes in. Not to say I'm knocking it, it is a real and useful therapy that has it's place, but it is neither one thing nor another. What is called in the trade 'physio' massage is not quite medical not quite therapeutic. I know medical and therapeutic mean very similar things, but if you were talking to a massage person you would be more likely to say between Swedish and Chinese which would mean even less to an outsider.

I grabbed a quick warm wet washcloth for her feet and grabbed a tub of coconut oil at the same time from the kitchen. I liked coconut oil because it could be used everywhere around the house from frying to an intimate lubricant. Meaning it was mild enough to put anywhere on the body with little chance of reaction. It smelled nice, it was light for massage, and it was solid at less than seventy five degrees. So if it fell over, it wouldn't spill. Even in California,for at least half the year it was as thick as egg white, minimum, so a spill could be caught faster than almond oil or sesame. My second choices if someone didn't like coconut. And if a client was providing their own, I always had to tell them not to get the toasted sesame oil, which was actually easier to find than raw but couldn't be used. We weren't makin wontons.

I massaged Momma's pretty pink piggies then moved onto her insteps and heels, her ankles and up her calves. I made sure to use my thumbs a lot and really get in there." Sam's feet weren't too ticklish, but better safe than sorry and most everyone liked their feet worked hard even if they didn't usually like deep tissue work, which Sam did. As long as it was over before she got bored.

A few minutes later, as I finished up her calves, I was faced with a dilemma. Sam would not have more than a few minutes in this position before her knees started to hurt. Now I knew as soon as I kissed her neck and asked her so sweetly to sing to me that I wasn't going to be able to keep this just a massage. So do I take her in the bedroom get her skinned down and move onto the thighs, letting the massage continue where it might? Or do I deprive her of her britches skip her thighs for another time and cut in line to the buffet as it were.

Obviously, I'd already made the decision when I got her up on her knees rather than taking her directly to the bedroom when I stood up. I put my face in her crotch and sniffed her like a dog as I reached around her to untie the drawstring on her shorts. I was still surprised by how much I loved to do that. I don't even think it was dogginess per se, but animalness. I absolutely found reasons to drop things and bend over or crawl over and grab something and coincidentally run into her in our everyday life. She knew what I was doing, but no one around us did.

"Girl," Sam started, in her play warning voice. She liked me to be the only one naked in the main part of the apartment.

"I'm leaving your shirt on." I said.

"Okay." And she dropped it. She trusted me, and she was curious.

I scooped some coconut oil on my fingertips and rubbed it between my hands. For all it's solidness. It melts instantly on skin and warms quickly, another plus. Starting at her lower back, I rubbed my lucky hands all over her beautiful heart shaped bottom.

My lucky hands and I did some full long strokes: along her thighs, up over her bottom, down past her wonderful tempting love den. It was actually the fact that she pulled me so strongly that made me skate past. I mean I did show attention in passing. It would never due for her to feel neglected or even worse rejected. But I knew my plans for a few minutes from now. I had to let the rest of my lady's whole undercarriage know that her entire body was precious to me. Ever square sugar cube of an inch on Sam was my dream. Just as much any other inch was. The fact that certain areas were more magnetized to my tongue and fingers just like the earths poles did not mean that her hipbone or the fold behind her knee were any less precious to me then that batter bowl of hers that I wanted to lick clean. So I kissed that hipbone. I walked my fingertips lovingly showing my personal attention to that perfect knee line. And rising and massaging her thighs, as I knew I would, just not as thoroughly as during a regular non-sexy massage when I wasn't distracted. Distracted by a treasure box on offer for my questing fingers to explore. Because each part, each pore, each hair of my love is precious but only one part is her pussy, and I like to think I was forgiven by the other parts my weaknesses.

Finally I stood to the side of her with the heel of one hand grinding deep into the base of her spine to center her root chakra as my other hand guided my middle finger home, into her warm wetness. My index and ring fingers slipped easily along in the natural grooves next to her lips. Then as I slid my finger out I pressed her lips between my fingers as they moved back and my middle finger as it came out. If this were pure sex play there is no way I would be moving so fast this early over such delicate tissues. But I knew my hand was lubed with coconut oil from the massage and while I was squeezing and playing with my lady love I was not applying enough pressure for real friction given the added slipperiness of the oil and Sam's own excitement.

Then I sat on the floor behind her and settled in. Rubbing the roof of her which would be the floor of her in her current position. This was good so I could get strong pressure. Always touching with a taking touch, feeling my true love. Who I really did motherfucking worship. (And I used neither of those words lightly.) I had two fingers of my right hand inside her. My strongest and most talented fingers of my strongest and most talented hand. I was just up behind her pelvic bone where I could feel the tissue honeycomb. This meant I was stimulating her gspot. At the moment I was stimulating it so nicely and lovingly. Because I was nice and I loved her. It was simple really. But also because these sorts of games I was playing you needed to warm up to. I was rubbing firmly all around the barrel of my entire beautiful girl's entire beautiful honeypot. When I worked on the top of it I had my other hand down by her clitty button. Well on it some. On it some and by it some, cause if I was right on it the whole time that got to be too much of a good thing. When I came around the left side I was massaging that inner thigh with my hand that not busy inside her. When I was at the back I used my outside hand to gently stretch and play with her lips. Then there was the other side with it's inner thigh to massage.

I'm not a poet or a great raconteur to tell the story and put you in my shoes, so it seems like this was all terribly quick. But you must understand I was face to flesh with a lover's banquet. I was touching and coaxing caws and moans from someone who's every sound was like new life to me. I was not rushing this. Sam had shifted her weight. Her arms were no longer crossed over the back of the couch. Here forearms were now vertical and parallel in front of her and she rested on them. Her back was relaxed her bottom was pushed out and presented to me. Her sweetheart's gift gaping. Her lips, normally pink were puffy and purpling, inside she was juicy as a split fruit.

My last hand movement before I prepared to chase her orgasm down hard literally slopped juice on me and it was so sexy my tummy spasmed. That was when I looked at my dainty little mouse hands shrugged and decided to go three fingers. But not wanting Momma to notice til she was hit hard by the first wave I decided to start with my outside hand on her button first. Go really slow and rather than one at a time do all three at once so in her super slippy state even though it would be a suprise. She'd be less likely to tell if it's two or three.

We'd done three before. It's just I preferred being asked. But massage was my thing better or worse and thinking that actually made a lot of difference. G spot games were supposed to be intense. Intense and messy. If how badly I wanted to lick that sticky sweet driplet that kept catching my eye meant anything I had led this exactly where I was wanting it to go.

So I moved my outside hand down to her pink pearl and started rubbing around it, my fingertips were plenty slippery enough to slide around and over it. Teasing it. Then I began to rub it directly as I brought my recently inside hand to the entrance where it wanted to be inside again. Playing a little across her bottom on the way. Not with, just across.

She was quite slippery enough to take even three fingers without trouble, but she felt it. Not the number, but the sudden thickness. The fullness.

"Oh Cat," She said. Possibly the first words she'd spoken since we started.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"I do." She said in a very matter of fact, very deep; for her even, very serious, very sensual voice. That I liked and wanted to make her use again sometime. I had used my Spot knowledge with her before. But this was an actual massage I'd been trained for, even if a sensual one. This was something a doctor could do for a patient. I could make someone have an orgasm this way in both the 'poor sally can't have one let me help way'. And in the 'sally is my sex prisoner' way. Make. Men can be milked of orgasms like cows through prostate massage. Which is their gspot.

But this wasn't making. This was loveplay and I would never make Sam pick up a sock. Not when I could pick it up for her.

But be her own private driver on her own private sex roller coaster. I would love to do that for Sam. That would make me happy as a banana bean.

I began to rub and press on her G spot and her entire urethral sponge. I could already feel it starting to swell. While working her button with my other hand, I could play directly on it now because the intense direct sensation was already coming from other places.

Sam moaned deep and gutteral back in her throat and collapsed against the couch. But of course there wasn't any place for her to go, so she just settled onto her ams maybe an inch and dropped another inch closer to me, no complaints there. I could feel all her walls expand and thicken as I pressed and pulled and played her. Inside and out. Spot and button.

This isn't a class and I don't know coy sexy names for what I was doing. It was sexy to me because of who I was doing it to. It was sexy to me because of what I was feeling. I have never been anyone else. I don't know if muscles and skin turns other people on. But I don't go to Hogwarts. At Hollywood Arts I don't just take preforming classes. I have to take real High School too and I ace Bio Human Phys for the same reason I'm a qualified physical therapist's assistant as a senior. Because my love for massage equals a love for the body equals it's all neat to me.

Mmmm. Sam bucked back, grinding her bottom into my face. Her tailbone hitting just under my nose, then her bottomhole, across her funbridge, and along my workspace where I'm trying to drive her over the edge. Exactly what I expected her to do and why I was leaning over. Well that and things were getting messy. I hadn't given into my desire to taste yet, but I was enjoying looking and smelling. It was called the urethral sponge because it used the urethra as an exit. It wasn't pee. Which was a rookie mistake because some women could orgasm enough to look like it, in a burst like that. Sam was more a continuous flow with occasional surges. Which being her style, was naturally my favorite.

Even the stroke she'd just whitewashed across my face couldn't really be called a taste. Nope, I insisted on calling it a sample. Like they gave out in stores. Because I was going to finish in here. Then take her in our room and I was going to clean her up. Without a towel. If it took an hour.

Which meant this was the only massage happening today. That meant I was doing a real massage. A sexual massage, by gum, but a real one. So I stopped playing. And my movements became deliberate. They were small adjustments. Sam wouldn't have seen them if she was in any condition to look which she wasn't. But I knew.

My fingertips were suddenly tracing deliberate concentric circles focused on her clitoris. My three fingers inside her were now not only massaging her, they were also moving in a scooping, pulling, motion over her; drawing her to release. She was not only beyond words she was beyond her normal moans "Ohhnmm," she lowed. But not in a bad way. She had the collar of her shirt between her teeth like a horse with a bit. She might very well rip or ruin it when this final wave crested. She might feel drugged, might feel disoriented or confused. She might need my help to bed. I was already pouting inside that some of the yumminess I was earning was destined for the mop or a wet towel when I got her tucked in bed in a bit. She would almost assuredly have to have help getting to bed.

But she was going to feel the bone deep looseness only found from regular massage or an earth shattering orgasm. This wasn't where I thought the day was going. With Sam I'd learned it was better to smile and enjoy the trip. Even though I was riding hard I didn't feel I'd begun to approach the line of 'making' her cum with a capital 'M'; though making with a small 'm' was about to become floodingly obvious. Because I was just guiding, even with what I was doing. In my hands this could have taken less than five minitus and included orgasms so intense they were painful.

I could feel Sam clench down as she started to have her last big one and I got even wetter myself just at the sound of her moaning and screaming as she pressed her face into her arms and into the back of the couch in turn. and I could feel the rush as she came onto my hand her own lovely slip and the extra spot nectar. and then she just collapsed panting.

I let her stay until she started sliding bonelessly off the couch, then I helped her stand. "Shall we go in the bedroom my love?" I asked.

She looked around, groggy, "Narfle?" She said.

"Yes," I agreed, "In the bedroom, the pretty narfle," And she seemed to accept that.

We went into the bedroom.

I kept a portable massage table under my bed that I could take wherever I needed it. In reality since I had separate massage sheets and they had to be washed special to get the oil out and always ended up smelling massagey. It was just easier to triple up otherwise I would never have enough for a load and if I was going to triple up anyway I might as well just throw a canvas down on Sam's bed with the sheets on top, it was faster than getting the table out.

After today though, if I wanted to do it right I needed to start getting the table out. Nothing more strenuous was happening today, though. Sam was obviously spent and I felt like I'd been diggin ditches.

When I took Sam's shirt with the chewed on collar off and laid her in bed I thought about how I thought of undressing her as my reward for massaging her usually, but it felt like being allowed to give her a massage was a reward too. Everything with Sam felt like that. It was like an unending stream of prizes and rewards. Which is why it was so important to me to please her. I knew how lucky I was and I knew that there was no way I could earn it. But I wanted to show her I knew. Not to mention everything turned me on with Sam. Even normal daily routine turned me on so much with Sam in the room.

The reason I wore my tanga shorts today is because after our first 'Sweetheart Sunday' we sorted out Sam made me a little too squishy in my puckell patch (I told you it was hers). And those cute little 'accident' wet spots I was leaving on her lap every time I shifted kept getting bigger. So we decided I needed to wear some sort of bottoms. Sam joked about putting me in one of the bigger diapers that a kid had left behind. And while that gave me zings that almost shot my clitty button up into my tummy button we decided that was waaaaayyy too kinky for us.

We had discussed the idea of folding one of the cloth diapers into a little square and having me be naked and just have that to sit on. Because it would be nicer and softer to sit on than a towel but would be like a little game because I would have to remember to take it with me every time I moved or I'd leave a spot. That was one thing Sam and I were learning, these little embarrassments could be a special game between us. Like leaving love spots on her leg, or how it thrilled and scandalized me for a moment that she would threaten to put me in a diaper.

Because I knew I'd let her do it. That one didn't turn me on at all by itself but, the power she had over me… woo. There were a lot of people who I would passively let push me around. But Sam is the only one who if she did that to me: I would stand there. Naked, except for that humiliating diaper. Crying with shame. And I would still bat my eyes at her and look at her flirtatiously and say in that way I know she can't resist. "How can you be so mean to me?" And yes it's a fact that is the fastest way to get me naked again. But I would not even be thinking about that at the time.

And the idea of having a little juicepad that I have to remember to take around with me, as well as be naked for Sam to look at all day, and half-consciously stroke and pet as we just hang around the house doing our thing. That sort of game sounds like heaven. Because I know Sam will try to distract me, so I forget. And then I know she will turn me on even more so. Most of all I know she will make a big deal over what a messy girl I am to leave such a big wet spot on her lap or the couch or wherever I left it. But I equally know that if it is the couch or anyplace else I might worry about, the spot will 'magically' be gone tomorrow. Because Sam talks a big game but she would never want me to really worry, and doubly she would never want the real world to interfere with our play time. So she would always make sure any evidence of one never crossed over into the other. One of the billions of things I loved about her.

But here in our room where we would be unlikely to leave for hours and very possibly not before a long and playful shower, my puckell patch could get as slippy as it wished, so as soon as Sam was in the bed my tanga shorts were in the hamper. And if I heard them make a small damp sound when they hit from all they absorbed when I was massaging Sam, that's my personal private business.

Sam was in complete command of her senses when I crawled into bed. "Great chiz kid, what did you do to me?"

"I told you massage was good for what ails you." I said. "That's why I want us to start doing it at least every week."

"That wasn't massage, that was Niagra Falls in a Puckett." She said pulling me close, "I couldn't handle that every week."

"No not that every week. No next time we do that it is going to be with you sitting on my face, so I can lick you and I want all that on my face; I want you to get me so messy. I want it in my hair and my…" I stopped and could feel myself blushing. A small strand of my hair had gotten stuck together with Sammy-lamb's slippy goodness and in the shower I had a quick fantasy rub. It wasn't even batey it was just a quick yum-humm. But I guess, seeing and smelling and feeling her had brought it back. And I mustn't forget the sample.

Suddenly and suprisingly, to be honest; my whole brain was bubbling in a soup of scrumptious Sam-need. There might be some wasted on Sam's shorts on the living room floor (where I tucked them so it wouldn't get on the carpet). But now that I'd had my energy rejuvenating cuddle I was certain the honeypot had nectar sufficient to satisfy even a very hungry little Kittykid like myself.

"Sam, if I can be straight with you, as I know I always can," I began.

"A rather flexible interpretation of straight but I take your meaning." Momma replied.

"We both had fun on the couch and I thought we were gonna cuddle and coo like pigeons in a cote."

"A what then?"

"A cote. A cote, Sam. it's what a person keeps pigeons in. Like a rabbit hutch, a chicken coop, a pigeon cote." I said.

"Well if you say so,"

"I do, Sam, Because that isn't the important part in the first place. The important part is I thought we were done loving for the present, but it turns out, if it's okay, I'm not. I'm really really not. Like I need it, not. Like I really really need it right now not.?"

"Oh kid, I'd love to but I'm exhausted. If you wanna kneel up here over me. I guess it'd be fun." Sam said.

Oooh tingles. "That would be fun Sam." I replied. "But not what I really need right now." I pointed playfully down.

"Oh Kitty-sweet," And she sounded so kind in that second, so much like she understood I didn't say need when I meant want. She had so much love in her eyes. And I had so much love for her. I actually misted up a bit. Actually welled up that my girlfriend understood how much I loved to lick her out. (Alright that just trivialized it and you and I both know it. I only did it because I was uncomfortable at the rawness of my own emotions)

And my special wonderful lover just pulled the sheet back, rolling flat, opened her legs to me and said "Come to me love, but be gentle, she's just run a marathon."

Thing is, once I got in there, she looked happy as a clam. Tee hee. Clam. Next to childbirth what I'd done for her was a spa weekend. I'd honestly just given her a good workout. now she'd had a 15 minute cooldown. If anything I knew about the body was right, she was fine and happy and ready to play. Or kiss as the case was soon to be.

She was a messy girl, but not even as much as you might think because of something doctors have delicately named the upsuck factor. Where everything is sucked back through the cervix as the whole business relaxes after orgasm. But Kitty would still get her cream, just less. I just looked at her up close for a moment. Happy little love orchid, a bit wilted, but perking up again as I could feel her blush. I was, of course looking with my lips less than half an inch from her and my sensitive skin could feel that little bit warmer she got. I'm sure there was a faint color change but it was late afternoon and we hadn't any lights on so the bit of sunlight we had wasn't enough. I wanted that. I wanted my other senses pulling me to her.

I kissed her once. The first kiss was almost always a quick peck. a 'Hello, I'm here to make out with you today, my sweet, won't that be lovely?"

Then I moved in, sucking her puffy pretty lips into my mouth. Licking them and getting them all spitty. (Tee hee, it turned me on a little just writing that. lalala) I pulled my mouth back and I pulled back on them a bit. Sam inhaled sharply, but there was no question she meant it to be good. And I moaned low in the back of my throat. I didn't even mean to, my body just responded to her call. I loved to make her happy and to coax these feelings from her.

I released her sweet flesh and opened it with my fingers so I might make my way inside. I want to talk about how wet she was and how messy. But I already don't know if I've said too much about what a messy dirty girl she made me want to be. These confessions are new to me and I am a lady. If it was Sam asking I would tell her everything I felt. Everything I could and I would try to tell her more because she asked and I wanted so much to please her. But this is what? A diary? A confession? Me telling my fantasies to the wind? I've told you once I'm a slut, where she's concerned. I've told you it scares me how dirty I want to be, how dirty I want to talk? I told you I let her lick my bottomhole and I liked it? Did I tell you I wanted her to bend me over the table and finger it and stretch it and lick it 'til it gaped and I collapsed on the table; spent and sweaty and quivering like a newborn foal? No, of course not! Because I don't know what we're doing here we two, you and I. I did tell you I wanted her to cum on my face next time I made her super messy like this. I did do that. That means something. That I trust you, that we're friends. Maybe I just don't want to scare you. I told you of the diaper. The dreaded diaper. We're not speaking of that again. Not Sam and I; and not you and I either. But I did tell you. I even told you it gave me the mega shame tingles. So don't act like I'm holding back.

She was so hot and sweet. Wet and messy. Her cum was thick and creamy. Her spot juice, clear and sticky. And I wanted them both. I'd say anyone who can lick a girl, can understand how they used to put meat in desserts in olden days.

Not to be gross. Especially not while trying to be horny. But if you can tongue the honey pie you are familiar with the joy of something that tastes both sweet and meaty. We don't do this in todays recipes and culture is culture I'm just saying I can see it.

Because Sam always does, always. But spot juice has even more of a syrup, traditional sweetness than normal girl. So I had a unique opportunity. Where she had cum a lot; so there was a lot of her normal creamy deliciousness, but there was also a lot of sticky extra.

By a lot I don't mean a literal lot obviously. Lot comparitively.

Sigh. Don't do this to me, I am busy gaying. I pressed the tip of my nose against her nubbin as I pushed my face in deeper, licking. Kissing. Loving the one who was born to love me. I turned my head to the side a touch, as if I was kissing her other lips and continued to kiss her. Home. Life. Love. All these and more she meant to me. She was so delicious and so amazing. So endlessly surprising and relentlessly fun. I kissed her, licking up and swallowing what I found but mostly exploring someone who was eternally new to me.

I brought my hands up. Spreading her lips so I could sprinkle little loving kisses on her perky pretty poppet, then I moved in close sucking on her clit licking and sucking it pulling back and blowing on it lightly. Honestly we would be getting to the full on clitty tonguejob later, just like I wouldn't sleep until my heartmate had cum at least three more times. But it wasn't even dinner yet and this was about cleaning up not startin over, so I started to wind it back.

The only reason I'd done it at all was while I was certain Sam would make sure I got mine. There were different kinds of releases. I had gotten so worked up workin on Sam and lookin at Sam and focused on Sam that I'd given myself a Sam-on. If I hadn't been allowed to lick her out, to taste her, to smell her, to have the entire sam experience. I would have gone crazy. Crying like a little lost girl would have been the least of it. Because I had built her up inside me so much. And some clit time was just part of that. Now except for the cuddles that I was just about to collect, I'm cool. If we move on to me now or in five hours I don't care because, I didn't get all worked up about me.

I crawled up into Sam's arms, and said, "If I cry now, why will you think it is?"

"Cause you just love me so much."

"That'd be why. But I can't do it every time." I said.

"You don't."

But suddenly I didn't feel like I needed to. Instead what I needed to do was kiss her hungrily like I was drowning and her lips were my air. she was so perfect. And so beautiful. and so pretty, and so splendid, and so superb, and so wonderful, and so gorgeous, and so dazzling, and so alluring, and soooo comely. Because all of those words mean different things but Sam is all of them and I am hers. I am the luckiest girl in the world. She is my everything plus one.