Barbara and the Cherry Tree- part 1.

By Sara

She was beautiful, the first woman I made love to. She had features one would expect in a classical painting, though something undefinable was a little different, quirky and cute. She was 8 years older than me, and I met her through some friends who took me to a costume ball at Haloween. On that night she was dressed as a midevial maiden, and her Elizabethan bodice pushed her soft fleshy brests up into bouncing round globes with deep cleavage. I wanted to run my fingers across them, and in that moment understood that I was attracted to her but didn't know how to handle it at all.

We became friends and one day I told her about my secret crush on her, aftraid that she wouldn't return the feelings, wouldn't like me any more. We were walking alone in a park and she silenced my fears- pushing me against the trunk of a tree and grasping the hair at the back of my neck before kissing me passionately.

I moaned, and she put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh..." she said. "Not Till you're 18."

So, we waited.....

In the mean time, she teased me in all kinds of pleasant little ways. She had her own place, which became my sanctuary and home away from home. She was an artist, and could frequently be found holding a paint brush in her teeth and smoothing the lines of her creations with some kind of smudging stick- naked on the floor, bent over her art in a way that showed her smooth voluptous curves. She rarely had a shirt on in the house, she liked "feeling free"

She had an enormous bathtub and encouraged me to climb in it with her, where we would wash each other off, the wash cloths rubing like velvet across out wet skin. She would kiss me with wild abandon and rub her slender hands across my skin in these more innocent fashions, before calling me to cuddle in bed with her on the piles and piles of soft feather blankets. Other than stroking my hair and curling around me, she wouldn't take things further... not until I was "old enough". It was maddning, I thought I was ready, and I wanted to in some way consumate the deep feelings I was having.

A week before my 18th birthday she told me she loved me and asked me if I wanted to move in. The happiness I felt was so profound that I felt I was olmost overflowing and breaking with the power of it. Finally, the first night of my adult life came, as I was moving in with my new girlfriend.....

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