A Story of You #8 Karina

Contest entry number eight by Merlin...

8. Karina

She was slender, with small breasts and a slim but well-defined ass. Her arms were long and thin, birdlike in their profile. Her complexion was dark, almost olive in hue, with broad red lips framing slightly uneven teeth. Her eyes were as black as a November night.

Her name was Karina. And she was a hippie.

Or rather, she aspired to be a hippie. She hadn’t moved from our suburban locale to San Francisco to drop out of society. She wasn’t dropping acid, at least as far as I could tell. She wasn’t even smoking up, or keeping any pot around the house. I think her father would have had serious problems if he caught her doing that.

But she dressed the part. Tie-dyed T-shirts. Low-rise bell-bottom jeans that were always dirty around the cuffs and showed off a hint of buttcrack when she sat down. Often a headband around her long, black hair. Leather sandals in the summer, wooden Swedish clogs when it got cold.

And she was attracted to me. I can’t explain why.

"X,” she would say meeting me in the hallway at high school, and then launch into a diatribe on whatever issue was moving her at the time. She was quite political, and the Vietnam War provided a constant stream of material for her to riff on. It wasn’t uncommon for her to break off her monologue when she reached her class, starting up right where she left off the next time she found me.

Even though I wasn’t much of a hippie, a bond of friendship began to grow between us. Maybe I resisted her ideas just enough that she was energized by the prospect of a potential debate. Maybe I could see that, under her outspoken and sometimes abrasive manner, she was a young woman with womanly desires, and few inhibitions about achieving them. And that always attracts me.

I began walking her home after school, even though her house was out of my way. One cold afternoon she carefully maneuvered me away from the kitchen window where her mother might be preparing dinner, dropped her books on the grass, embraced me and gave me a tight kiss on the lips.

“I love you, X.” She was in the house before I could react.

Her affection was unconditional. She never waited for me to say that I loved her. I really wasn’t sure I did. But as we began to hug and kiss routinely, I was getting more and more interested in going farther.

One day Karina announced that her parents were flying to Florida for a week and she would be alone in the house. Karina was an only child, and her parents were rather old (they might have been in their 50s, imagine that!). I didn’t need a road map to see where this was going.

The day after her parents left, we walked home from school as usual. Rather than kissing outdoors, Karina said “Come in.” I followed her indoors, watched her throw her books on the kitchen table and then engulf me with an enthusiastic hug and a tongue down my throat.

“Come in my bedroom,” she said breathlessly. “I have to get out of these clothes.”

We kissed again as we entered her room, the walls covered with Janis Joplin posters and antiwar slogans. She looked at me and began talking about how she enjoyed being nude and free, but her parents were too uptight (of course) to let her walk around the house in the raw. As she talked, she began casually dropping her clothes. Off came her T-shirt, revealing a spunky pair of tiny nipples. Down went her jeans, collapsing on the floor in a heap. She kicked her clogs into a corner, her jeans following. All that remained was a pair of white panties with a hole under the elastic.

“I love you. Kiss me.” Karina was nothing if not assertive, and I was not about to resist! My hands gripped her torso as I pulled her toward me, our tongues intertwining lustily. I could feel my cock getting rock hard in my tighty-whiteys.

“We have to hurry up,” she said. She explained that her grandmother would be coming over to have dinner that night, and I could understand that she was not enough of a rebel to want to be caught with a classmate’s cock stuck inside her. But Karina had something else in mind. She reclined on her small bed, peeled off the ratty panties, and began to preen her furry patch.

“Eat me,” she commanded. “Eat my cunt.”

I had never done this before! I had heard her talk about feminism and the tyranny of the penis, and it was apparent she was intent on taking the upper hand in her sexual encounters. I wanted to fuck her, right then, but I was excited enough to give pussy licking a try.

I knelt before her, still fully clothed, and inhaled her musky scent. Her outer lips were dark and sinister; her inner lips a deep pink hue, glistening with her feminine secretions. Thick, curly black hair covered everything. I gently lowered my head, using my fingers to push the hairs back, and delicately extended my tongue to taste her.

“EAT ME!” she snarled, grabbing the back of my head with both hands and pushing my tongue deep in her slot. Recovering from my shock, I began to lick her pussy enthusiastically. I had no idea what I was doing, but from her moans and the rhythmic shaking of her body I seemed to be doing something right. When my tongue reached the top of her slit and began to work her clitoris, she shrieked and arched her back off the mattress, then collapsed into her pillows.

I rose up on all fours, her hot young juice coating my face, watching her breathe shallowly with her eyes closed. After a few long seconds her hand snaked down to her pussy and gently stroked her clit, eliciting one last paroxysm of pleasure.

“Come on, you’d better get going,” she said as she got up, pointing me to the bathroom across the hall. I washed my face, returned to her room and was received with another deep kiss.

“See you tomorrow, lover,” Karina said as I closed the door.

Lover. That sounded nice.

On the way home I noticed a wet spot growing on my jeans. Looking inside my belt, I saw my now-soft cock covered in white goo. Yes, political discussions with Karina were becoming an enjoyable experience.