Ivy: An Introduction
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My name is Ivy. Well, that’s not really my name… but I think it sounds pretty cute, and it protects my real identity. I’m a student at University, doing a double major in English and Political Science; it’s a lot of work, but I really love it. I’m pretty smart, but I try not to overdo it. I’m graduating next year, at which point I hope to take a year off to travel before going back for my Masters. I’m twenty-four, and I live with my roommates — who are also my best friends — in a really cute but run-down house in my favourite neighbourhood. We have a lot of fun.
For the sake of my stories you’ll probably want to know what I look like. I’m sort of average height – five foot five — but I have a petite build. My hair is short and dark and usually messy, and people say my best feature’s my big green eyes, rimmed with dark lashes.
I’m a really sexual person. I just love it… I love discovering and exploring someone new, delving into their desires and lusts. I love the chase and the challenge. I love giving in to carnal physical pleasure, maybe because I spend so much of my time using my intellect. I will never apologize for loving sex so much. It’s something I really enjoy. Some people might have a problem with it but that’s for them to deal with. I don’t really tell my stories that often… my best friends usually hear them, but mostly I keep it private.
That’s why I’m here. I want to share my stories with someone — anonymously. I want to spend my off-time, when I’m bored with studying or facing an essay writer’s block, documenting memories that I want to keep for the rest of my life.
Let me start with something… personal.
A few years ago I went traveling. I packed a backpack, sold most of my stuff, and took off with my savings and a sketchy travel plan in mind. I traveled through Southeast Asia, though I really wish I’d spent more time there — I plan to go back — and eventually ended up in New Zealand. By the time I arrived in Christchurch, on the south island, I was pretty lonely. I’d been traveling — alone — for four months, without even a hint of companionship. I’d learned so much about myself and about the world and about people and about living… but I hadn’t pressed my naked flesh against the warmth of someone else. I hadn’t even kissed anyone. Not for months.
In Christchurch, I stayed in this little hostel on a hill. I was in a dorm room with a bunch of girls from all over. There were five of us in total in the room, and like most of the people at the hostel, the girls I shared my room with were long-termers. My first night there, I was in the common kitchen area getting to know the other guests and having a beer when I saw her.
Actually, I smelled her first. She was fresh from the shower and I could smell the shampoo on her wet hair as she walked by me, heading for the overstuffed arm chairs in the corner of the room. She had thrown on some light pajamas and had brought a hairbrush down with her so she could bursa escort socialise while she teased the tangles out of her hair.
At first she watched the conversation, and I tried to watch her without her noticing. I could see the shape of her body underneath the thin cotton of her clothing, and she had those legs that are toned and muscular and shapely but thin. She sat on the edge of her chair, her toes and the balls of her feet on the floor, knees raised — do you know what I mean? What a position. Her back arched as she tilted her head back to pull the brush through her damp curls. Her hair was dark and made darker by its wetness, and her cheeks were a soft rose. Her lips were plump and slightly parted as she closed her eyes and worked the brush through her hair.
I could help but imagine her naked. Or, more properly, wearing tiny panties, her long legs in front of her, back arched, small breasts raised. Wet. Dripping wet.
“Ivy, right?” I snapped back into reality as someone sat down at the table and addressed me — Carlos, I remembered, from Chile. I’d met him earlier.
“Yeah,” I said, tearing my attention away from the girl. “Carlos. How’s it going?”
The banter continued. We pulled out a deck of cards and dealt a game. There were three of us — Carlos, another guy named Chris from Australia, and me. I’ve always been one of the boys, drinking beer and playing cards or smoking pot. I’m a cute girl, but I’m not delicate. We played through a round of cards before I heard her voice for the first time.
“Hey, guys,” she said. Her voice was soft. Of course it was. Like the tinkling of fucking bells. “What’re you playing? Can I join?”
I couldn’t place her accent. It was exotic… and intoxicating. She smiled at me and extended her hand, graceful and slender. “Hi,” she said in that strange lilt. “I’m Anja.”
My breath caught in my throat as I took her hand. “Ivy. Where’s your accent from?” As the words came out of my mouth they seemed clumsy. I knew I was just nervous because I was overthinking it. I’m pretty suave, and besides, there was no reason for her to suspect that I was attracted to her.
She laughed. “Everyone asks that. I spent part of my childhood in Peru and part in France, but I went to English schools.” She pulled a chair out and sat down, rounding out our table. “It’s funny, because both my French and my Spanish are rusty at best.”
My body was tingling. I could barely focus. I was overcome with want for her, and I couldn’t get the image of her damp with beads of water and stretching, nearly naked, out of my head. It definitely affected my performance during the game, and I came out last — while Anja bruised the boys’ egos and won seven hands in a row.
She cut off her winning streak before it soured. “I’m going to bed, guys. I have to go to work tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes. I guessed why. Most travelers end up doing shitty factory work, or anything else that’s available for temporary bursa escort bayan visitors. It’s never much fun. “Thanks for the game.” She ruffled Carlos and Chris’ hair and then leaned down to me.
“It was nice to meet you,” she said sweetly, and kissed me on the forehead. The smell of her was intense. Jasmine. Ylang-ylang. Strawberries. Dampness. “I’ll be around tomorrow after three — will you be here?”
My voice was husky as I replied, “Yeah, I’ll be around.” Even if I had plans, I’d cancel them.
She smiled. She had a dynamite smile. Could light up the dark side of the moon. “It’s supposed to rain, and I need someone to sit with on the porch. Most of the girls here are so dull. You seem like so much fun. Tea?”
I nodded. “Sounds great. Goodnight. Lovely to meet you. See you tomorrow.”
She moved like lightness, like feathers and dandelion seeds, from the room. Those thighs in those cotton pajamas. That waist. God.
The guys were ready to deal out another game, but I bowed out — I needed escape and I needed it immediately. “Sorry, guys. I want to get an early start tomorrow. See ya around. ‘Night.”
I couldn’t be out of there fast enough. I took the stairs two at a time. My pussy was throbbing, aching for release. That girl had driven me crazy — and it’d been so long since I’d found anyone worth lusting after. That image in my head…
I grabbed my bathroom bag from the bedroom quietly, as all of my roommates were already asleep on the narrow single beds. I headed to the girls’ washroom. It was a quirky room with a couple of shower stalls and a couple of toilets, plus a row of sinks and a mirror. I was the only one in there, and I quickly claimed the biggest shower stall for myself.
I removed my clothing quickly and turned the water on hot. Slipping beneath its spray, I leaned against the tile wall of the stall and slid my hands down my body. The water felt good on my flesh, and everything felt so intense — I was so much more sensitive than usual. My fingers found my dark thatch of pubic hair quickly, and I felt a jolt run through my body as my fingertip made contact with my swollen clit.
I bit my lip to keep from moaning and started to rub my clit in little circles. It felt like electricity coursing through me, emanating from my loins down my thighs to my toes. I thought about her, about the shape of her body, about the effortless sensuality she moved with, about that long dark hair falling down her back as she tilted her head and arched her spine. I thought about what it would be like to worship her, on my knees in front of her, resting my head against her thighs and pressing my lips to her warm and delicate skin.
I imagined what her pussy would look like, plump labia, hooded clit, thighs wet and sticky. I imagined pulling her tiny panties down those perfectly shaped thighs. I rubbed my clit faster and harder, panting now, the hot water hitting me hard. It wasn’t enough. I pressed the palm escort bursa of my hand against my folds and then bent and plunged a finger into myself. Two fingers. I curved them and tried to make contact with my g-spot, but it was difficult in that standing position.
I almost groaned in frustration before I caught myself. I imagined doing the same to her, plunging my fingers in, feeling her softness and her wetness and hearing the mewling sounds of her pleasure. The whispered requests. “Harder,” I whispered, as if she were saying it to me. “Fuck me…”
Abruptly, the water turned cold. Shit! Fucking hostels! I used my free hand to turn off the shower. What a rude awakening it’d been — but I still had my fingers buried inside of myself, and as the sound of the water subsided, I heard something curious. I heard the panting of a girl, short breaths and tiny gasps, and the wet squelching that could only mean one thing.
Someone else was in the bathroom too, and she was doing the same thing I was.
I was so turned on, and sometimes when you’re in that zone certain things that would seem ludicrous most of the time just make sense. I let a low, quiet moan escape from between my lips. I heard the other girl stop, deathly silent. She must have been in the stall next to mine. I could hear her trepidatious breathing, so shallow, as she tried to keep quiet, but then she gave in, and I could hear her wet smacks again.
I knew she was fingering herself. I could head the smacks of her hand making contact with her pussy, that undeniable pumping sound. I continued as well, letting her turn me on even more. I moaned, I gasped, and soon she returned in kind. We were both making noise, and we were both doing it for the other’s benefit. It was absolutely thrilling.
Soon, I felt myself approaching the crescendo of orgasm. My body felt white-hot, and the sensation was too much. I cried out softly and arched my back as my body shuddered through climax. She came soon after me, gasping and whimpering before her breath stopped for a moment and I knew she had climaxed.
Slowly, my heartrate came down and my breathing slowed. I was cold now, and not to mention wet from the shower, so I grabbed a towel and dried off. While I was pulling my pajamas on I heard the door of the next stall swing open. I heard her wash her hands, and then I heard her leave the bathroom.
I wouldn’t find out who my companion had been. I wished and hoped that it was Anja, who’d gone to bed just minutes before me, but I knew it wasn’t likely. She didn’t seem the type to masturbate in a bathroom stall at a hostel.
Still, after I’d climbed into bed, I couldn’t help but imagine her sleek, naked body in the stall next to me as we drove each other to an intense climax. In bed, in a room full of sleeping girls, I quietly slipped my hand into the waistband of my pajama pants and rubbed my clit til I came again, thinking of her.
Afterward, I laid in bed and thought to myself that I hoped this wouldn’t make things awkward for me the next day. It’d be a shame if we were hanging out and having tea and all I could think of was removing her clothing and tasting her sweetness.
I slept like a child that night.
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