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THIS EXCERPT IS STRICTLY FOR THE SEASONED, MATURE, ADULT READER NOT FOR UNDERAGE READERS*
Angie Situation (NAIVETE')  SNEAK PEEK of the PREQUEL TO  <--THIS SEQUEL "Angie Situation" (INNOCENCE)
One that thing was never “out,” were my sexual urges. With some semblance of continuity, I could control them when I was in a relationship, regardless the normalcy (or lack thereof). The other urge was what I would call a “surge”--something that I had set aside for many years: my insatiable appetite for sex with women. That was about as another side opposite me as the letter A was to the letter Z.
I was never “out” with it because it was just a certain something that I always carried with me since my age of innocence; when I didn’t quite understand that I really “liked” women-but rather, knew that I liked what I felt (intimately) with, and around women. Only certain ones though-not women in general, it was more circumstantial, occasional, and situational.
During my age of innocence, I was overly curious about the anatomy of a vagina because I had seen an adult one, smelled it, and put my lips on it at that very early age and ever since then, I was constantly curious about the anatomy of pussy and what every part of it was for.
I knew that touch and kisses brought it some kind of explosive pleasure that made a female submit-and after having explored one myself; I began to explore my own at an early age too.
Girls and my fascination with pussy was just my “thing-” a secret something that weighed heavily on my mind in my innocent aged-years; far too early for the pre-occupation I had with it. The only thing I could do was think about it and masturbate-chronically, until I was sleepy.
Although in my innocent/teen years from beginning third grade and into middle school I carried on pretty heavy with my TGGF (well-beyond the typical make-out sessions), nothing made me know that what I was feeling was real and spelled out like a moniker across my forehead: “Yes, you really do like the girlies” than around eighth/ninth grade when my TGGF became overly excited about my well-developed body that had changed over the years right before her very eyes-never having taken on the likes of that boy-looking stage as did she and the rest of our friends’ bodies.
My awkward stages were many.
My physical changes took myself and lots of boys and men by surprise, but because my TGGF and me were so close for years; she was able to take + surprise me by exploring my body in ways that showed me more of what that thing would do and what it was for-well over what I knew it was for.
Of all the kissing and grinding that I had done with she and countless other girls my age up through that time, after so much licking and sucking with hands and fingers all over your body and clit and after having had it stimulated and kissed at an improper age-much before my mind and body was ready-I kept chasing that explosive feeling by all means accessible.
By my pre-teen age of innocence, I wanted some mouth action-badly. Still a virgin, I wanted it done-yet, I still longed to do it too, but with a certain kind of girl (preferably older than me).
I had always had a thing for older men and older women back in my age of innocence and pre-teens, I think because my first (inappropriate) experiences were with a few of them-some years older than me, so I couldn’t help but desire that.
To see a grown, hairy pussy again remained like a stain on my brain for years and I had a mission to see one, and put my mouth on one.
As I got older, I literally studied “vagina” and every part of it that any encyclopedia, porn, or book would allow my eyes to see.
In my innocent years as a pre-teen, “Ms. Beautiful" was my mission. She was perfect. Totally accessible and loved and admired me (like an adult to a pre-teen-nothing inappropriate) yet, I fantasized of changing that in any way possible or just enough that she would let me seduce her-so that I could execute my mission-because I was most certainly on one.
Naturally wise beyond my years already, I turned up my charm and ability to be able to hold a conversation with an adult several octaves when I was around Ms. Beautiful. I had the amazing ability to do that at any moment during my age of innocence’s pre-teen years so much so that if the adult didn’t brand me some future “gonna be big and important somebody,” they were adamant about their own pre-teen friending me [in hopes that what they saw as “intelligence”] would hopefully rub of on their own child.
Other adults would enjoy my company and conversation to a point where that normal pat-on-the-head and baby-talk/sing-talk they would do with my other peers; they never did that with me. It would be normal conversation [about appropriate things however] but forgetting they were talking to a twelve/thirteen year-old girl.
I was always “interested” in a lot of things. I just wanted to know why it lived, why it had life, why it existed-and what should be done with it. So things that I was interested in-took on a life of its own (in my interest in exploring it).
Being wise beyond my years afforded me a spot at many-a-teachers’ pet desk from first grade, through pre-teen and into early high-school years.
More was always expected of me versus my peers my age. I had a lot of responsibility at home and outside of home.
Even amongst my peers, I was always elected “in charge,” by them or their parents-whether we went swimming, the store, hung out on the porch-you name it.
Drill team captain: that was me. I was a dancer at school, so-lead the team in how to point your toes while prancing and marching correctly: that was me.
I had my way with anybody.
I was gentle and normal like the rest of my friends, yet distinguished and mature. And although in my age of innocence I was the Queen Bee of my circles; my charm and gentleness was always a part of my person.
I was never a mean girl, so I had my way in my little world: operations were orchestrated by me and went my way-for years.
Until that Super Saturday that my dad and me had the big fall-out, let him tell it, the queen, the duchess, and the princess all resided in the sun that shined down on me.
Rejection and made to feel isolated and unworthy was never my experience-ever (hence, why in some way, from the back of my ego, Cruella's son had hell to pay-thanks to her). Because anything less than what I was used to was a total culture-shock to me. I did not tolerate it-because I never had to. I had never been made to feel unworthy and not good enough for anybody until her son fell in love with me. I hated her for that experience, so Mitch took the fall.
At any rate, my entire life, I always got my way. No one disliked me, put me off, or rejected me. So I was not apprehensive about whether or not my mission: “Ms. Beautiful” would work. I studied and pre-planned the night for long enough time that I felt I had a good enough grip as to how I wanted it all to go down, perfectly.
Although she could not entertain the thought of what I wanted to happen-unbeknownst to my juvenile mind; I thought I had the meticulous master plan for her the night that I arranged that sleepover [under the guise of it being for myself and her daughter who was my age, but annoyed me so badly]. We were nothing alike but I didn’t care, I liked her mother.
After that dreadful night that, like orgasmic osmosis I lost my-everything into the seat of my panties while under those covers lying next to Ms. Beautiful; that was it for me. Something had to be done about this aching in my body that I had for getting my mouth on some pussy.
I remembered the sensation all too well, way too early, and it kept ants in my pants.
Too many years had passed and the hum drum of kissing and grinding wasn’t getting it for me anymore. I needed to take it higher.
When I first started having sex, I wanted it done and it got done-just like I wanted, orchestrated (and instructed). Still, I wanted to do it, too, but had to settle for sucking his dick instead. So I sucked Santana’s dick like the pussy that I wanted suck-and I treated it very well. I lost all control of myself and he, too.
Although my TGGF and me carried our “well-past making out” make-out sessions on into middle school; by the time we entered high-school, we called ourselves liking guys and miraculously flipped what was a physical relationship to: “Closest Encounters Turned Fondness for One Another Like That of the Best-Friend Kind.” And we didn’t fuck around (intimately) anymore with one another until years later when we got good and grown. She just kept a close eye on whoever was in my life as a friend or boyfriend (and always found some problem with it or them)-but for years, we totally played like what we did all those years was a phase-and we would laugh and joke about the first time she fingered me and how we would hide behind the couch and hump in closets until we’d sweat like pigs.
For many years, I had no certain girl in my life that I considered having sex with. It was almost like maybe perhaps all those years up through high-school that I was pre-planning [kissing, grinding and messing around with the couple of girls I had done it with] was just a phase.
But as it turned out, it was not a phase after all.
One night in particular, a girlfriend of mine (whom I had been cool with for a few years) had propositioned me-coyly at first. I had even forgotten that she and I had talked about sex with women before. I guess she retained it-I didn’t.
Although I had my boyfriends, I would still masturbate thinking about making it with a woman, but because I wasn’t actively seeing girls as frequently as I was back when I was younger; I thought that after I would masturbate to the thought of it-the desire was exclusive to my mind during masturbation, only.
But then FriendGirl caught me by surprise when she propositioned me. She followed me around the house like a sick puppy. She was over to my house pretty much the whole day-up until it was time for me to get dressed to go my job at the bank at 8:30p.
I didn’t make it on time that night though, because by 8 p.m I had her ass hemmed up in my bedroom, sucking the life out of her pussy until she broke down in mind.
FriendGirl was sexy too-oh my goodness. And little did she know-she was lucky as hell. I had built-up agony that had been repressed for years and then she popped that question. All my agony-I took out on her. She had never been with a girl at all-ever, so she didn’t know what to do with herself that night.
She had been attracted to me for a long time-just never said anything to me about it. She said that every time she got the nerve to bring it up-something would cause her to decide against it-because she wasn’t sure how I felt about her in that way.
I noticed that she would try to be cute around me-and shy sometimes, but unlike most of my friends, she and I did not grow up together. We met as teenagers, and although we ended up being closer than I would normally allow anyone whom I didn’t grow up with; we weren’t BFF’s-just very good friends-but close.
She said that she had masturbated countless times to the thought of me going down on her and it heightened after a conversation we had where she remembered me telling her that going down on a woman was something that I wasn’t opposed to doing. I had to catch her off-guard when she said that: “Save the conversation about how the desire came about and tell it to me while I go down on you then,” I said-looking at her seriously, without cracking a smile.
Leaning up against the kitchen counter, I paused-then stared straight into her eyes in order to quiet the moment and the atmosphere-to allow her to submit.
As girlfriends, talking about regular girlfriend kind of stuff (guys, other chicks, life, etc); she always had a slick-sassy ass mouth. Since I had the upper hand on the moment, I had to exert myself over her-intimidate her somewhat-to take her down a few notches, especially for what was about to go down--a sort of: foreplay before play.
“So you are gonna tell it to me while I get you-what you often masturbated to the thought of?” I asked her, still refusing to crack a grin or a smile.
Embarrassed, she positioned her face to smile coyly-merely hoping to get one out of me, too. I didn’t budge. With my eyes squinted, I looked at her like I was serious while in my mind I said: “Girl, you can’t imagine how many years I played out getting at some pussy. And I’m about to BREAK. YOU. DOWN.”
My piercing stare made her tremble-she had never seen me in that kind of aroused light. I knew I was in then. I could feel her pussy throbbing through the seat of her pants-preparing her for all those nights she played out the thought of this thing that was about to go down between us.
She then began to move her feet, hands and fingers about as if every part of her that I laid eyes on; she felt I was picking apart. She was getting self-conscious about every part of her that I looked at.
I won. She submitted. Her usual slick, smart mouthed ass stood there biting on her bottom lip so nervously. All I had to do at this point was reach over and touch her and she was ready to scream.
Because she submitted, I gave her a slight half smile.
I was getting aroused-immensely.
I stared into her eyes and then bit my bottom lip and let her follow my eyes that followed below her stomach.
She knew what I was looking at. Her trembles turned to shaking like it was cold inside the house all of a sudden.
I was so eager to get at that pussy of hers that by the time I started from kissing her lips, neck, shoulders, tits and stomach; I had both my hands down in her crouch.
My body shook. I began to quiver on her neck. I started slurping and shaking because I was caught off-guard.
She had so much hair on her pussy that I got a head-rush. My memory of the first one that I saw had me in a trance. I rolled my eyes in my head, bit my bottom lip, rolled my head back and I fucking and exhaled.
At the time, I loved me some hairy pussy. She had no idea whatsoever that hairy pussy turned me on slightly more than a shaved pussy would have.
She was so nervous and I was too-slightly, but in my mind, I had rehearsed the fine art of how to eat a pussy so well that once my mouth hit that motherfucker; I knew that riding that clit would be like riding a bicycle again after having not done so in a long time: you never forget.
She had no idea that I was about to eat her senseless.
She was so nervous. Secretly, I was too but I knew that I knew how to eat some pussy-so my cockiness overpowered my nervousness.
With that pussy on my hands and all five of my right hand’s fingers clinching her clit and wiggling it gently like I was playing a game of jump rope-my thumb in the lead; I knew that this was going to be the perfect pussy for me and an awesome first time. I wanted all of her inhibitions to be gone.
She “oh’d” my name to deaf-like her whole pussy’s insides were about to drop out from the excitement she was feeling from this moment having finally happened.
She was so weak and moaning helplessly that if she wasn’t so embarrassed and afraid of my response, I could tell that she was ready to tell me she loved me-already.
My pussy was throbbing and I was so aroused while sinking my teeth into her neck: “Ooh. I can’t take it anymore more-back,” I pointed to the direction of my room.
She shivered and gasped like she had cum or was interrupted from being about to do so.
She then bent over and squatted as if she was in a tight to piss. ”Are you alright?” I whispered.
“You need to go to the bathroom?” I asked.
“No…” she sighed out and held my hand so that she could follow me to the bedroom. She didn’t want me to remove my hand from cuffing and playing with her pussy-she was ready to cum.
When we got into my room, I pulled the door and kicked it from behind while she headed for the bottom edge of bed, taking off all her clothes, and me-mine.
From the bottom edge of the bed I grabbed her with my mouth as she began to scream out helplessly-shaking like a single leaf in the brisk cold wind. She was stiff and stunned with her head thrown back and mouth open.
I locked in on her clit and told her to throw it to me slowly-slowly grind to meet me.
She hurriedly grabbed my head to thrust like I told her to. All she could do was repeatedly scream was “oh shit” in riffs to the top of her lungs. I was merciless with her clit. Each thrust she made, I was meeting her with the same force until she got stuck there-begging and screaming my name like she was possessed.
I lifted up some and raised her from the back of her thighs-gently pushing her backwards-trying to signal her to scoot back to the top of the bed while I still locked in on her clit. She tried. I wouldn’t let up though. I kept pulling and snapping it back until she was unable to move. I was sucking her so good that my mind really dared her to move-and I think I would have been insulted if she did. I was giving it my best. She was laying there deep thrusting into my face and grunting like she was crying.
In between pulls while sliding my fingers inside of her and pressing my thumb onto her clit, flipping it back and forth while still fucking her; I decided to frustrated her. I whispered up to her forcefully: “Scoot back some! Scoot back some!”
The pleasure was paralyzing her. She still couldn’t move.
All she wanted to do was fall back and get all that I was giving to her. I felt sorry for her-she was helpless, crazily aroused, out of control and didn’t know what to do with her self.
I needed to get her up on the bed far back enough to back her into the corner-so she couldn’t move anything but her pussy. I then grabbed her from beneath and lifting her ass up while I took my entire mouth and locked in on her entire pussy.
She screamed to the top of her lungs as if that was the money shot suck she was waiting on.
Still locked in, I climbed up on the bed while sliding her back into the corner to push her knees up and finish her off.
I whispered: “Aint this what you wanted? Is this what you thought about?”
She began to yell: “not like this, betterrrrrrrrrrr,” yelling out all r’s as she was caught by surprise from me switching from devouring her to whipping my hard, thick, wet strong tongue back and forth and round and round her clit as if I was punishing her.
I then lay my heavy long tongue flat on her clit and wiggled it like a snake until I met the tip of her clit with the tip of my tongue.
She yelled mercilessly.
I devoured her again and pulled gently: “Throw it to me slowly,” I told her. She did.
I then began to suck her off so good that I had her emptying out every desire and fantasy in her head that she ever held secret-about what it would be like to have me down on her in this way.
I wanted her to feel completely naked in her mind as she was at the body. I broke her down completely. That pussy made me crazy. It was everything I wanted a pussy to be. I wanted to do everything with her shit.
She was busting and throbbing so good while trying to tell me all, that she was having a hard time telling the fantasies straight. Every time she would try the get too relaxed and lay there getting her clit sucked on to perfection; I would slide off of it in the middle of her pleasure and begin to nibble all over the top of her pussy; only allowing my bottom lip to tease her clit-just to cause her agony-making her know that she’d better talk or else.
It didn’t have to be perfect, just the best way she could. It was turning me on to listen to the pleasure I was giving her while she was riffing countless ways screaming blasphemous things.
What she had to say really didn’t interest me as much as the pleasure in her voice-it was harmonic and turned me on-it was getting me the fuck off.
Aggressively, I then climbed above her, put my face in her neck and grabbed her pussy:
“You like it when I put my warm mouth on that clit don’t you?” I said aggressively.
“Yes. Oh my goodness, yes,” she sighed out.
“Well, if you like that, you’ve got to earn the right to lay up in here and moan only. No more secrets from me-you waited too long. I could’ve been got at you,” I said, while teasing her clit with my thumb.
“Ohhhhhh, I was scared” she cried out and sulked with pleasure while I sank my teeth deep into her neck-playing her clit like an instrument while clutching then taking her entire pussy in my hand and shaking it:
“Ooh I love this, you hear me?” I grunted aggressively.
“Yes. Oh gaud yes, yes. I love it. I love it. I can’t take it!” she yelled.
She was out of her mind that night. And so was I.
That pussy was wonderful-it was perfect. I wanted to eat her every which way I possibly could while keeping her lit and weak.
I finished her off by putting her on her hands and knees.
I then got behind her and grabbed her by her lower back. I pushed it down to the bed so that she could stuff her face in the pillow to give me full and complete access to that pussy she had beneath her.
Oh my goodness-that garden was beautiful.
My tongue was dancing back and forth underneath my top teeth uncontrollably. I was so raunchy.
I gave it to her good because she had no idea how bad and for so many years how I wanted to get it with a girl that turned me on-one who had that certain something. She turned out to be all that.
With her ass completely erect, I took my hand and cuffed her whole pussy to feel just how much of that pussy was thrown back; it fit cuffed perfectly inside my hand.
I was so ready to come behind her and put that clit in a dangerous clutch between my lips and tongue but instead, I reached between that garden of hers and gently pulled down on her clit; twisting it swiftly like I was unscrewing a light bulb.
Her moans were so helpless that I almost felt sorry for her. The pleasure was killing her.
I pushed her back down into the bed some more and climbed above her, biting her neck and whispering perverted shit in her ear about how perfect her pussy was. I whispered in her ear:
“I need you to take your hands and knead your pussy downwards-nonstop-until I can feel that whole pussy pushed to the back of you to meet my mouth from behind. You hear me?”
I was so horny-I didn’t give a fuck. I began to show her how I wanted her to push it downwards for me. I grabbed her hands with mine and began to knead her pussy.
Her pussy in my hands like that was making me crazy.
Her moans and screams of passion were so sexy-she was gulping and gasping like she was crying into that pillow.
She was shaking and trying to speak some gibberish while she was masturbating it for me. I had her kneading that pussy for me until I met her back there. The sound of her wetness was incredible.
She let me use her up-and that that turned me on.
I was loving FriendGirl that night. This was the kind of night that was long overdue for me.
I couldn’t help myself-I was crazy.
While sliding down the sides of her body with my hands, I traced my tongue down her spine and wiggled that bitch right in her ass. She was moaning helplessly and masturbating like a wild woman. I needed in.
I then slithered beneath her-pulling at that pussy while she kept kneading-like I showed her to. I was sucking her pussy from behind like crazy.
“Oh my gaud. Ah! Shit-please…” she moaned out-helplessly begging for mercy. She was about to cum again.
I wanted her to bust comfortably, so I quickly turned her around, pushed her back up into the corner, then pushed her knees up and locked in on her clit like a fucking suction cup of a deep massager with 5200 beats per second. I knew just what to do with her pussy in that position where she could do nothing but scream and take it. And I gave it to her.
She came ferociously while I lay there with my legs crossed tightly and cumming too.
My pussy was uber wet.
It was a tragic mess in that room--and so was FriendGirl after that night…
Things between us had gotten a little softer and tender-the way we would talk to one another, but I was careful not to talk in a way to make her think that our friendship had turned into a relationship, and she on the other hand was basically going with my flow.
But I knew, for sure, things were going to be different the day that I picked her up from work when her car was in the shop. Not thinking any more of it-than me merely having another friend with me (who had been riding shot gun with me the whole day), when FriendGirl walked up to the car-she was not happy.
Having never seen this particular friend of mine, she was staring at my friend and sizing her up from head to lap. I could see the annoyance in FriendGirl’s face as she stood outside of my car staring at my friend in the passenger seat (waiting on me to have my friend get out of the front seat to get in the back seat).
I was so enthralled with the look on FriendGirl’s face that my friend had to tap my shoulder to get me to snap out of it-and to instruct FriendGirl to get her ass in the back seat.
The lift in FriendGirl’s brow told me that would be one hell of a problem if I did that. I tapped my friend back on the shoulder and pointed to the back seat with my thumb: “Girl, hop in the back. She’s getting dropped off first since she’s closest, then I’m going to drop you off.”
FriendGirl’s frown got deeper.
My other friend got out and got into the back seat.
FriendGirl got in with her sassy-mouth and said: “Thanks.”
Then she paused and ended with: “…for coming to get me.”
She said no more-the whole ride home.
When we pulled up to her house.
She got out of the car and looked back in then asked me:
“Can you come in for a second?”
“Sure,” I said to FriendGirl.
I walked in behind her. She sat her stuff down and immediately turned to me and said:
“Who is that? And what are ya’ll about to do?” she squinted-sarcastically-as if she just knew I was about to take my friend home and tear her up.
I replied like some busted beau:
“Uh-nothing. I’m just about to take her home and finish up some stuff before I go in tonight,” I replied.
“Mmm, must be nice. Eight o’clock is not that far from now. You know how you do when you’re running late for work….Let you get aroused and you don’t even care about being late if time is flying and you’re having fun…” she said-sarcastically.
I replied and hit her on the nose:
“Cute-real cute, but, it’s not that kind of party-it’s just one of my BFF’s,” I replied.
“Mmm, well she’s reallll cute, your lil’: ‘BFF’,” said FriendGirl, using her fingers to make quotations.
“She is, but she’s just a girl that I went to school with. I’m not sleeping with her!” I yelled and laughed.
“Hmm. You weren’t sleeping with me either-up until a couple hours before you went in to work that day,” she replied, sarcastically.
“Yeah, let me be honest. I’m gonna take her home and bust her down something serious,” I laughed.
She squinted, quickly walked closer to me and slapped my face so hard that I swear I saw stars. The heat from the sting made its way to the palm of my mind while I cuffed the stinging right side of face.
“And I could just slap you right back right now too, huh? Nothing here but space and opportunity. With that, I could just beat your ass for that too,” I said-seriously.
"You’re a liar! And you love to eat pussy,” she yelled.
My mouth dropped:
“What!? And liar how?” I replied.
I explained: “For the record and just so you know. I’m not into women like that-in spite of how it may seem when I was with you that night. I know that sounds typical and corny but, I don’t just like women-generally speaking,” I said (using my fingers to make quotation marks).
I continued: “Girl, my friend is strictly dickly. She’s not thinking about me!”
Friendgirl replied (making quotations with her fingers): “I was ‘strickly dickly’ too, and you never knew until the first night it happened that I had been wanting you. Who’s to say that same thing can’t happen. You were down to do it. And you got BUSY!”
Little did she know, I had more to get off my chest with regarding to eating some pussy than she could have ever understood-that TOTALLY had nothing to do with her per se. But I didn’t bother explaining. Instead, I replied:
“It’s a certain something-it’s situational,” I replied-wiggling my right hand really fast.
“Oh, and I guess I was that certain-something huh?” she replied-not believing a damned word I said.
“Girl, I don’t see attractive women and get attracted to them like how a man would, it’s not like that,” I explained.
She didn’t reply. Instead, she stood there with a faraway look on her face as if she could clearly see that something was about to go down after I left her house. She was not trying to hear anything I had to say as being the truth.
Into this thing, she became more curious about who I was on the phone with and who I was hanging out with at any time. It was very confusing to her about as uncomfortable as it was to me.
It was hard getting her back to the type of friends we were: her being a girlfriend rather than a “FriendGirl.”
Our friendship was way too awkward after that, because I could go back to being regular girlfriends with her during the day, and when the surge would hit me, I could sure as hell use some of her FriendGirl many-a-nights.
For her, she needed to have me treat her in the daytime with the same emotion that I did in the night time. Her way turned “more-than-just-a-friend” day and night.
When FriendGirl could see that I could turn it on and off-she didn’t like that, our friendship turned very lopsided.
Between trying to punish me in retaliation of her turning damned near all my other friends into ones that she was sure I was sleeping with (while juggling her resurfacing religious guilt, apprehensions and "ungodly desires"); our thing was going haywire.
We
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