Chanting Lure Tales

“You and Me” are second person, present tense smutty stories I write between an unnamed fictional me and a fictional you. This is one of those stories. For the purposes of this story, we'll be women who are coworkers and both known to the other as people who date women. Relative to its length, this qualifies as a slow burn. In case erotic and smut weren't enough of an indication, this story is for adults.

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You come over after work. Sometimes we go to your place. Sometimes we go to my place. I was less embarrassed by the state of my place than you were by yours and also my roommate was planning to be out. Though I'm not sure you and me had anything in mind that might be easier done with her out of the picture.

We've been circling each other for months. I'm not sure if we're going to be together. In these moments, it doesn't really matter. It's company and a chance to be around someone who doesn't roll their eyes when I talk about our 'guilty pleasures' from a media perspective.

The office has been talking about the snowstorm. It's the only reason I know why the shelves are bereft of bread and eggs.

It's starting tonight. If you leave early enough, then you'll be back to your place before you get snowed in. You hate it when I remind you of things you already know but I do worry.

I don't worry that you'll be here overnight. I worry that you'll be upset about it.

“If you leave now, you can probably get home before the snow starts,” I say.

You give me a look.

“I don't feel like being alone right now.”

“I could walk with you,” I suggest. It's kind of a silly suggestion.

“Then you might get snowed in at my place,” you smile. “Which is a complete disaster.”

The sun is almost down and the way the light plays in your hair as you sit on my couch makes you so beautiful I want to pull out my phone and take a picture. Instead, I content myself with trying to capture the image fixed in a media as impermanent and changeable as my memory.

The memory will bend and shape with time, updating itself as you and I change in time. The moment will change with us instead of standing as a perfect monument to an imperfect moment in time.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” you nod.

There are two lines I can think of from favorite shows but I don't say either of them. I get up from the couch and make a pot of coffee.

I come back to the couch.

“It must get cold in here when it snows,” you say, looking at the large sliding glass door leading to the so-called 'balcony.'

I don't think you can see it now but the seal between the layers is busted so it's got grime between the panes. What we can both see is is the layer of condensation that has almost totally blocked the view of the parking lot below.

“Mmm,” I nod. “Hence the wide variety of hoodies scattered strategically.”

“So there's a method in your madness?”

I can tell from the smile on your face that you're teasing me and also not just quoting the bard.

“That or a witch is using my hoodies for an elaborate, bird-friendly form of divination.”

That earns a chuckle.

“You don't wear hoodies to bed,” you ask.

“Not typically, no,” I roll my eyes but with a wry smile on my face. I can never tell what reaction others will have to the same expressions I see them use.

“What do you do?”

The coffeepot beeps and I get up.

“Why don't you guess?”

You give this a ponder while I pour mugs and pull out spoons and creamer.

I set one mug in front of you with a spoon and with the creamer before taking my own seat.

“I think you have a different mistress every night. On cold nights, they keep your bed warm while waiting for you to come and have your way with them. And then in the middle of the night when they make you too hot, you push them out of your bed and make them go back to their own apartments. Their boyfriends wonder where they've been but don't smell the scent of another man on them so they say nothing.”

I can't help but giggle at the thought.

“So, no to Seven Mistresses for You.” You tip the creamer into the coffee and stir it.

“Call me boring but, so far, it's been a strict regimen of serial monogamy for me.”

“And you and Roommate aren't together?” You have both hands around the coffee mug and you're holding it to your nose, as if you're trying to suck each bit of heat out of the air and into your face.

“No,” I shake my head. “I've been flying solo for a while.”

“Maybe you have a human-sized heat lamp like the kind they get for lizards.”

“And I bask naked on top of my bed in the warmth like a cold-blooded alien.” I grin.

There's a twinkle in your eye when I say the word 'naked.'

“I'm afraid that's not it either.”

“What would I have gotten if I'd picked the right answer?”

I consider this for a moment before settling on a good answer.

“A chance to take my place in that scenario.”

You grinned.

“You don't sleep cold?”

“Not in winter,” I shook my head.

“What do you do?”

“I turn on my electric blanket about a half hour before bedtime. It gets my bed nice and toasty.”

“Is your bed big enough for two?”

“Technically. For more than an occasional overnight guest, you'd want a bigger bed.”

I'm starting to worry that all this talk of having a warm bed might be more about how cold you are than about the possibility of sharing a bed with me. It's not a problem if you're not trying to get in my bed but I don't always read the room right.

“Would you like to borrow a hoodie? I have a fresh one in the clothes basket.”

You give me a look and then pick up one of my hoodies that's in arm's reach. It's a neon green thing with a busy indie cartoon illustration on it. It's one of my favorites but it's not available anymore. The print is starting to wear on this one. You look incredibly cute in anything but this one makes me ache.

You smell the sleeve near the wrist.

“Mmm, smells like girlfriend.”

I laugh. It's something of a meme but you could mean more by it.

We figure out dinner and then watch cheesy 80s action TV starring resourceful and good characters defeating villains-of-the-week while we wait for the oven to finish its magic.

I notice flakes of snow starting to accumulate on the window. The light warmth of the inside makes an inefficient snow melting machine out of the sliding glass door. Despite the translucence of the window, I can still see a little of the accumulation.

It's not too late for you to go home. I've seen you watching the window, though.

The timer buzzes and I go to check on the food. Things are ready enough but need to wait a few minutes to cool. We eventually eat while watching the next episode of the show.

It turns out to be a clipisode. When I come back from putting the plates, forks, and spoons into the sink, you've made space for me on the couch.

My heart is filled with terror but also joy. I sit beside you.

You scoot over so your body is pressed against mine. You grab my hands and hold them to your face.

“Ouch, cold,” you say. You pull my left hand to your tummy and my right hand to your back before pulling your shirt and the hoodie you borrowed from my couch over my 'chilly' fingers. Your back and stomach turn me on.

I can feel your body moving each time you breathe.

I let my head rest on your shoulder. It's an awkward position but it's the most physical contact we've ever had.

I'd left the lights off as we ate and watched TV so the only thing lighting the room at this point was the TV. Outside, it looked like the snow had stopped accumulating.

“Why don't you turn the electric blanket on while we're waiting for the next episode?”

I got up from the couch and ran quickly to my room. I cut the light on and found the control covered in some pajamas. I turned it on and pulled the blankets straight before going back to the living room.

I find you stretched out on the couch with your head resting on your left arm.

You spot me and rub the space in front of you with your right hand.

I back onto the couch, putting my head a little lower so you'll be able to see.

“I've seen this episode bunch of times. You're not going to be comfortable with your feet sticking off the end of the couch.” You snicker.

I slide up the couch so my head is in front of yours.

You slip your hand under my shirt. Your fingers are soft and you have a slight edge to each nail.

I can only tell because of the way your fingers are playing over my tummy. They're short enough that you can still use them on and in pussy without hurting anything but long enough that you can still scratch if you want.

You sniff my hair and press your face against my shoulder.

It feels wonderful to have my back pressed against you. I'm not expecting much more just yet. The show has a while to go.

It's a complete surprise when you slip your right hand to the band of my pants. I'm still wearing the slacks I had on at work today.

You unhook the belt, undo the button, and zip the pants open.

I can barely squeeze in and out of the pants with the zip undone but it would be presumptuous to pull my own pants down without you telling me to.

You slip your fingers inside my panties. Not far but far enough.

“Growing your coat for winter?” you giggle in my ear.

It's not totally out of control. I trim it short about once a week. It may have been a little longer this time.It's irritating when too short and then irritating again once it's too long.

I laugh and reach my right had behind you. I give your butt a little squeeze.

“You could put your hand inside my pants, you know.”

I laugh and try to find the waistline of your pants. My fingers finally find their way and slip inside your pants and panties. I've wondered what your ass looks like without clothes on. I still don't know but now I do know how it feels. Plump, pliant, and warm. I love the way it feels in my hand.

My options for escalation are minimal from this angle.

You seem content with that, running your fingers through the top side of my bush almost like the bush was your very own stim toy. I can't even tell if you've noticed you can't get much further down because I still have my slacks on.

I'm not as comfortable as you seem to be. It's hard not to fidget while my fur is being played with.

You raise your head and kiss my ear.

“We don't have to finish this episode,” you suggest.

I squeeze your ass and nod my head.

You pull your hand out of my panties and follow me to the bedroom.

I set my phone on the left side of the bed and pull my pants and shirt off. I wait to see how far you're going.

You pull your pants, my hoodie, your top and bra off and then slip under the covers, still wearing your panties.

I only got the barest glance at your chest but it's enough for the moment. I had gone without a bra so the only thing left was my top and then I'd be wearing as much as you. I pulled it off and slipped under the covers quickly.

The bed was warm. Almost hot. It's a temperature that it can't get all by itself. There's an almost electric quality to the heat itself. It's bitter and sharp, softened only by an extra blanked between the top sheet and the bigger blankets above.

It's not the kind of thing I'd want to feel normally but it's wonderful on a chilly night like this when the alternative is cold toes and fingers.

You scooch so close our foreheads occasionally bash together when we're not paying attention.

The only things of you that I can see are your eyes and part of your face.

You slip your hand to my neck and press your lips to my mouth.

If I'd ever imagined kissing you, it wasn't like this. We'd kiss at some dramatic moment and it would be just right, setting us on the path to being lifelong lovers and, eventually, finding our own, particular version of happily ever after.

This wasn't that perfect moment but it was the one we'd been building to. Your lips are soft and gentle. Your breath smells like the same dinner I'd just eaten with overtones of coffee and creamer.

I don't know what the kiss means — if anything — but I know how it feels. It feels like something we've been hinting around for weeks. It feels like a promise. Not a promise of forever but a promise of right now. Right now, we're here together and what happens after we'll figure out together.

I return your kiss and let my right hand traverse the gap between us, underneath the covers, until it finds your side.

You pull back, look me in the eyes, and then smile. You grab my hand and pull it to your chest.

Your nipple is hard under the palm of my hand. Your breasts are warm. I don't know if your nipples usually are this hard but this for sure isn't about the cold.

I squeeze your nipple.

Your lips part and a little gasp escapes your mouth.

I lick my lips and press them to yours.

You put your hand on my face and return the kiss.

It's cold in my apartment but it's as hot as hell under the covers. We're hardly even touching yet.

Other than our lips and hands. I feel every breath. Your chest is like an ocean, rising and falling in smooth but unpredictable waves.

You come up for air and move your hand from my face to my shoulders.

I know where I hope you're going with this but I don't dare anticipate you.

Your hand caresses my right breast. How many times I've imagined this. It's everything I would have hoped for if I had known it could be true. Your fingers are so soft. Your thumb flicks around my areola, not exploring but setting my skin on fire.

My heart pounds in my chest. I squeeze your breast, gently, fascinated by how different it feels in my hand.

You plant the smallest kiss on my cheek and then put your hand inside my panties.

I lift my leg to give you more options, not to beg you to put your fingers where I need them.

“I think we're overdressed,” you say.

My eyes are saucers. I peel my hand away from your chest and slip my panties off. I'll find them in the bottom of my sheets some other time but I don't want to break the magic of the moment by pulling them out to toss onto the floor.

You laugh and push your own panties off. You pull them out and drop them behind your shoulder.

“Those are going to be so cold when you put them back on,” I can't help but saying.

“I don't plan to put them back on,” you giggle. “I brought a clean pair and a toothbrush.”

I swallow, finally realizing how long ago you would have had to have planned this. I wonder if you've brought a change of underthings before and this is just the first time we've actually made it to bed.

“Now, where was I?” You have a devious grin on your face.

I reach for your hand under the cover and pull it down until your fingers are touching the top of my bush.

“That's right,” you smile.

I sneak my hand past yours and feel between your legs. You've shaved or waxed. Definitely shaved. I rub my fingertips over your flesh. Your legs are still closed and I'm not going to spread them just yet. There's a lot of teasing and tantalizing I can do before we come to that.

You seem to have other ideas. You push your left leg forward.

My hand is pressed against your delicate lips with my wrist pinned down by your leg. I slip a finger between your labia. You're hot and wet and sticky.

Your forehead radiates heat at me while you let your fingers go on their own little search for treasure.

Or maybe you're not ready for that. Rather than going for my clit, you slip a finger inside my pussy.

I hold my breath.

You giggle and move your finger in and out of me.

“Who knew you were so desperate,” you say.

I inhale.

“You know you could have asked to go faster,” you laugh.

I shake my head. It was true but it didn't feel true. How could I express a need like that? How many times had I been told I was too much?

You rub your sopping finger around my hood, pushing it back just enough to reach my bare clit.

I kiss your cheek and let my own fingers start to rub along your labia. Your leg squeezes against my arm.

“Tease,” you breathe.

I laugh and move my fingers to your clit. Just above it, really. I put them side by side and rub three little circles side by side. None of the circles touch your clit directly. I can tell by your breathing that you can feel it.

I've imagined this moment before but each time was different. This is the real thing and I don't want to rush.

You're panting in my ear.

For a moment, I thought you had forgotten what you were doing but you start again, moving your fingers over my clit instead of just holding them there.

It's immediately almost as much as I can handle. I manage to keep stroking above your clit but I lose my focus a few times.

I decide I can't keep the teasing up this way any more. I let my fingers move down just a little. Now my middle finger is directly over your clit and my pointer and ring fingers are beside. I can't rub as hard here yet. I love the feeling of your tender flesh beneath my fingers.

I love the feeling of every other point of contact between us, all adding to the heat beneath the covers. Every part of you is perfect and I want it all. I whisper your name over and over again like a prayer to a goddess I know well but a goddess still filled with mystery and awe.

You drive me over the edge. I plunge headlong into the bliss that your fingers are bringing me.

I only barely manage to keep using my fingers on you. When quaking in my body stops, I pull the cover up and slip between your legs.

Even if I had my eyes open under the covers, I wouldn't see anything but you. I slip a finger inside your pussy and use the tip of my tongue to warble and flit over your clit.

Your breath is ragged now. You shake in a steady time that doesn't quite match up with the legato motion of my tongue.

I feel the pressure of your legs squeezing on me. Not hard but a little out of your control.

I lick and lick and lick, slow and smooth in circles and swoops of different sizes and directions. I revel in your taste.

You lose all patience and start to ride my tongue and my nose.

I move my finger inside you, putting pressure on your inner wall.

You groan my name and fall back onto my bed.

I kiss the inside of your leg tenderly while your muscles move in turmoil underneath your skin.

When you're still, I climb out from the covers and curl up beside you. I don't know whether you'd want to cuddle or not. I do but I'm concerned. The same concerns as always. Am I too much?

It doesn't matter in that moment.

You pull in close to me and we doze in the dim light of my bedroom for a little while.

The night isn't quite young but it's not time for bed yet either.

I watch a show on my phone while you take a shower. I take my shower after and we fall asleep together.

In the morning, I wake to find I'm alone in bed. It's completely silent and still. The air outside the bed is bitter cold while the covers are keeping what's left of our heat.

The electricity is out. The light in the room is from the opened door letting the light from the living room into my room. I pull on one of my hoodies and a pair of pajama pants and slip out of my room.

You're by the sliding glass door with your phone placed against the side of your head.

“Hey, it's me. I'm snowed in here. I'll try to come in later.” You pull the phone away from your head and hit the big red button to hang up.

I laughed and go back to my room to find my phone. The snow wasn't really keeping us in but it was more than enough excuse.

~The End~

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You and Me need to work on our communication. 😘

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#Erotica #EroticStory #EroticStories #MidgeHollerin #YouAndMe