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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Selena Kitt

  Almost Blinded To Love © 2009 A. Mistory

  eXcessica publishing

  All rights reserved

  Almost Blinded to Love

  By A. Mistory

  Chapter 1

  It's rotten to find you've suddenly been dumped! For a time, I really thought we had something good going. My current, or ex-current, I guess, partner told me she had to do it, had to have a man. Well, I knew she was bi, but she said that was over, that she hadn't had a man in several years, and women were all she was interested in, me in particular when she told me this about nine months ago.

  This was just about enough. My ego was feeling very tender after this. Would I never find love, real love, or was it only a myth? No, it wasn’t a myth, Carole and Jessi had love. Why couldn’t I? Still, Lydia moving away and ending our relationship, and now Myra, and my ego is fracturing big time.

  I knew about Myra, that she'd been with men, had liked them, but I also knew for sure that she had been exclusively with women for the last couple of years. There was no way Myra could go out with a woman, and a man too. I mean, you can, but all the time? I doubted it.

  We were both unattached when we got together, Myra for about two months, and me for about six months after Lydia left. Myra's last partner was Shirley, a blonde that was nice to look at. What happened to them, I didn’t know. Whatever broke them up, she was with Shirley nonstop, almost like a marriage. It was pretty much the same when we were together, or at least I thought so.

  Myra had very sweet looking brown hair that she wore short, and was very vivacious. That, and a good dancer. We loved to dance. We met formally while she was with Shirley, but we didn't try to hit on each other. I've always respected boundaries, what I felt were rights when someone was partnered, or even just out on a date. Myra was pretty much that way too, and I liked and respected that.

  When I found out about her break up with Shirley, I was instantly interested. I hated sleeping alone, and though I loved to play with my clit, I preferred for it to be played with by a lover, and even better, a partner. Besides, Myra was my type of woman. We all have our preferences, and Myra had a killer body as far as I was concerned, and everyone else thought so too.

  My former partner before Myra, Lydia, was as close as I ever came to being head-over-heels in love, my high school days not being counted, that is. That was puppy love, but Lydia was like me, I think, and not really in love. Lydia was exceptionally good looking, and her body was similar to mine, not as lush as Myra’s, but right to my taste in my women. I had thought that we got along great, but as with Myra, love just wasn’t there, I guess.

  What did it take to find love, to meet someone you really knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with? Whatever it was, I hadn't found it. Had I simply been willing to accept good sex with an erotic body? I began to think that might be my problem, and if it wasn’t, then I didn’t know what it was.

  With Myra, I must have had hopes that it would happen, that we might grow into love. She was great to look at facially, and God, was she ever sexy. Myra loved to show off what she had, and she had it. Myra was bigger than average in the breast department, very full and luscious to look at, and they jiggled so saucily with her every move. Her tits where like jell-O, but kind of solid—human solid—with sex written all over them. She was really tempting in every bodily way. She was also outgoing, and that included a tempting, teasing smile.

  Me? I'm not too bad being slightly over five foot six. What my best feature is may be debatable, I guess. My hair is a honey color that falls past my shoulders. Myra loved it, or so she said. I believed it. My breasts are a little larger than average size, but quite nice, with pretty full nipples that are sensitive, and love to be kissed, and handled, or tongued, or even nipped at, but lightly. I'm not into pain. Myra quickly exploited that fact, but never went past the pain border, just enough to drive me wild.

  All of my friends tell me I've got a sweet face, one that really sets them at ease, and I make a nice picture in heels. That's how people tend to see me, as far as I can tell. I make friends easily, though I'm a bit careful about trying to be good friends with just anyone. I have to really like them, like Carole, and her partner Jessi.

  I really envy those two. They're so in love with each other. Jessi is a natural born flirt, and what a dancer. No matter who Jessi dances with, she takes them over, and leaves them with their tongues hanging out. How can she not? Her whole body moves like controlled water. Have you ever seen one of those goofy liquid tanks that constantly tilt from one side to the other, their liquid moving almost sensuously, flowing and making the tank tilt with its movement? That's Jessi, though she's not almost sensuous, she is sensuousness itself.

  I've often wondered at how it is that Carole doesn't get the least bit jealous watching Jessi dance with someone else, but she doesn't. Maybe I shouldn't wonder at it at all. Whenever any dance is over, Jessi always goes to Carole and clings to her like a stain on your favorite blouse. In fact, they're all over each other. They're absolutely disgusting.

  Maybe I’m shooting too high. Maybe everyone isn’t able to be like Carole and Jessi. Maybe, but it’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted, a love of my own, and forever.

  When Myra was known to be single, we started dancing together. I'm not a bad dancer, so we hit if off really good. My downfall was that I paint portraits on the side, and everyone knows it. I'm good, though I don't do it full time. Maybe I'm just scared to put all of my financial self into portrait painting alone. One thing I love about it, besides just loving to paint, is that it brings me a nice bundle of side cash, and all of it under the table. That I really love.

  After Myra and I started dancing, a few weeks later, she asked me to paint her portrait. I knew what she meant. She wanted it nude. They all did, or at least my circle of friends. That was how Myra and I got to be together. As I did with everyone, I had her sign a form that gave me permission to sell it, if they were okay with it. Some said yes, and I sold them if they didn't want them, but they were few and far between. Often those that signed off on me selling their portrait were models to whom I paid a commission after the sale. That worked well for all of us.

  Myra liked that thought too, and signed, saying she would decide later if she really wanted to keep it. I was always careful about painting people, and steering away from possible problems.

  Myra came over on the next Friday evening. After a quick salad supper and wine, we went to my studio in the basement. There was no hesitation to Myra’s disrobing, she did it rather easily. Though I wasn't really sure how much, or how I liked Myra, seeing her naked body sealed my fate. Being an artist can be so rewarding, and it can also be damning.

  It's like anything else. If you're good at it, and you like doing it, you begin to notice things that the untrained eye doesn't, or with your mind, know what is no
t known by others not in your field of interest. My eyes instantly saw things about Myra's body that had me salivating, and my pussy reacting like a hungry animal behind a smelly restaurant.

  Myra's tits were fabulous, and she knew it, as well she knew she had a great ass and legs that matched, and was almost beautiful of face. What she had no visual appreciation of was her pussy. That's what sunk me. Lesbians have a variety of favorite things they liked in their partners, or liked to do with their partners. There's the fabled butches who love to ram a femme with their strap-on and dildo, or those who incessantly love to have their pussy eaten by the femme, sometimes in a humiliating way, or in public.

  Others, not so butch, or even caring for that label, just like their sex, either oral, or maybe with a strap-on, either getting or giving. Some like it all. There's no shortage of preferences, or mixes of our likes, and even dislikes. Some femmes like to eat their partners pussy, some love it when they get eaten, loved, by their partner. We all have our preferences, and partnering with someone who matches up with you can sometimes be a bit daunting.

  Myra and I were a bit different, but that worked out just fine with us. She loved to fuck me with a strap-on, and I loved to eat her beautiful, sexy, lust inducing pussy. Suffice to say that we could both get very horny, and very quickly. I guess that should have told me what our attraction to each other was, besides liking the way we looked to each other.

  When she was on the divan I had for a reclining nude portrait, which most of them wanted, I got a fantastic view of all of her femininity, her lush contours. The flowing hormones and pheromones aside, Myra's body had a sexual eclat that was almost unheard of in sexuality, specifically, her hot pussy. That was the most gorgeous, sexiest, erotic, and purely sensuous pussy I had ever seen. I had the hardest time taking my eyes off her vulva. It was somewhat larger than usual, with thick, but well formed lips, and it looked more than scrumptious to any who loved eating pussy, and that was exactly what I loved to do.

  "You like me?" Myra asked huskily.

  There was no way she couldn't have sensed my instant love of her body, though I don't think she quite knew why I loved it so much so instantly.

  "Yes," I answered her in a subdued whisper. "You have a beautiful body, but you know that already, don't you?" I asked, some sanity returning to me.

  "I'm glad you like it. I like you, and I want you to like my body, to like me, too. Will that help make the picture look better?"

  I laughed. She was serious, yet trying to be a bit funny.

  "Of course, if I don't go out of the lines, that is," I kidded her back.

  We both wanted each other. Hell, the old tales about the artist and the naked model were probably true, like gasoline on the fire unless you were missing some vital part or parts. I had all of my parts, and so did she. That didn't take long to be obvious.

  Myra kept looking hungrier and hungrier at me, and I kept seeing it with both my trained artist's eye, and my normally horny female eye. Myra's pussy lips had swollen, then gotten too wet, and she kept licking her facial lips, and breathing that damned short, heavy, and even raspy breath, and that made her tits create a spectacle, and her nipples to swell like her pussy. She was shameless, and I was glad of it, and I kept licking my lips, too.

  "What do you prefer to do, Mimi?" Myra asked out of the blue.

  "What?" I answered with my own question, not knowing what she was asking about.

  "You know. Do you like eating pussy, or having yours eaten, or both? Or do you prefer fucking, or being fucked, pussy or ass, or all of them? Or do you like some other kinky stuff, like spanking, or any of that?" she asked almost breathlessly.

  "Shut up, Myra," I said suddenly nervous. "You'll make me go out of the lines."

  She was quiet for a while, but my body started bitching at me mercilessly, especially my pussy and my mouth. I began to fear drooling on the portrait. I did feel I might. I had to look at that scrumptious pussy of hers, and I was salivating like crazy, and dripping too, most likely. Anyway, I was grateful for the salivating part because my lips were so dry that I had to keep licking them.

  Looking at Myra's pussy was more than a treat. I almost wished it was just a painting of her that I was looking at, I wanted it so bad. My preference was eating my partner's pussy, and I hadn't fed in ages. I was like a famished vampire needing a blood fix, but it wasn't blood I was wanting. Myra's pussy was dripping like crazy now. Soon I would have to call a halt to this painting, and make her clean herself up a bit, and maybe calm her body down. And mine too.

  "Let's take a break, and let you wipe your pussy off, Myra. You need to tone yourself down, or you'll ruin the painting," I finally said.

  "Would it be so bad to paint me like that?" Myra brazenly asked.

  "No, not if you didn't care if people didn't stop to see who it was that was the center of attraction," I said flatly, and truthfully.

  The way Myra was dripping, nobody would look at any other part of the portrait other than her swollen crevice that had a sexual river flowing through it. I was about to turn away, and try to ease my own desires, maybe get a drink of water, or pour a cold glass of it over my head.

  "That's okay," Myra stunned me, "or you can clean me if you want to," she stunned me some more.

  I froze. I couldn't stand, I was so suddenly queasy, so wanting, but I couldn't move either. It was embarrassing, thinking I might suddenly just fall down where I was, unable to move.

  "Well?" Myra asked huskily. "Do you like me that way, Mimi? Do you like eating pussy?"

  "Yes," I croaked out quietly.

  I should have said, 'Hell no, I love eating pussy,' but that was all I could get out.

  "Then come here," Myra said. "My pussy wants you, if you really like me, and like eating a hot, needing pussy."

  I almost ran to her. If I had, I would have knocked over the portrait, paint and all. Before I knew it, I was on my knees between Myra's thighs, my tongue lapping at her greedily. Maybe I should have said more about Myra's pussy. It was shaved, and her slightly thicker lips were beautifully colored, gorgeously toned, and vibrant in her horniness. Yeah, artists do notice just about everything. After I cleaned up all that had seeped out of her, I suckled each lip tenderly, slowly, and very lovingly. Myra's pussy was the sexiest I had ever seen.

  "Oh, shit," Myra said, her lips quivering in mine, her flow increasing as she came. "Fuck, you love eating pussy, don't you? Damn, that was good. Take some more, Mimi. Eat me out good, babe. Real good. I love the way you eat my pussy."

  Hands in my hair, she pushed at the back of my head, prompting me to eat her again. As far as I was concerned, she could have shoved me right in, I loved her taste so much. After Myra came again, I took the time to smell her properly, to enjoy her unique bouquet. I wanted to look at her, but I was glad to be of service to Myra, and ate her some more.

  I was lucky. I got to look at her pussy, and then to eat her again, then again, and a last time.

  "Jeez, Mimi, where have you been all my life?" Myra asked appreciatively. "You're the best pussy eater I've ever had. Do you like yours eaten too, sweetie?"

  I just nodded my head in her pussy. I didn't want to leave it, but I would if she wanted to eat me. I did like that second best, unless it was a sixty-nine. I loved that almost as good as just eating pussy.

  "Come here. Come let Myra taste of you. Give me your pussy, sweetie."

  Stripping off my pants and panties, I stood over her, one leg up on the divan, and suffered while Myra slowly ate my pussy. One thing I liked about having to keep my balance while Myra ate me was that my hand had to try to keep me up, and I let it go to Myra's cheek. God, that felt so sexy. Lightly touching Myra's face, a bit of her hair, was such a turn on. When I finally came, I nearly sat hard on her face, I was so sexed up. My explosion was monstrous.

  "Th-thanks," I managed to say as I moved off the divan.

  "You're welcome, sweetie. Let me taste myself on you, and give you a taste of yourself," she said, wanting me to kiss
her.

  I was glad to comply, especially when we tumbled onto the floor, our hands all over each other. Myra fought to strip me as naked as she was, and I helped her. Our nipples joined together, and our pussies tried to merge as gently as possible, we started to go at each other, but she quickly stopped.

  "Damn, I wish I had my strap-on. I'd love to fuck you right now," Myra said, her breath struggling for air.

  Before I could say anything else, Myra turned to have a sixty-nine with me. I didn't mind a bit. I was glad when Myra straddled me. The weirdest sounds were coming out of my throat, squeaky sounds of wild wanting, my hands frantic in trying to pull her ass down so I could bury my face in those lusciously over-sized lips of hers. I know I had another orgasm, but that didn't matter to me. Myra was having several, and I loved it. Her pussy was as orgasmic and insatiable as any I’d ever heard of. I'd never had anyone who could orgasm so many times, and instantly want more. I was in heaven. I sucked Myra's lips into my mouth as much as I could, together, and one at a time, and her clit and mound too, my nose almost burying in her slit. Myra loved it all.

  Myra loved it so much that I suddenly found her sitting on my face, my own pussy left unattended by her lips. Myra was riding my mouth deliciously, and I was lapping her up as fast as I could. We were well matched, Myra loving to be eaten like this continually, and me in my heaven with a pussy on my face. God only knows how long we were like that, but when it ended, Myra pulled my head to her juicy tits, and buried my face in them.

  "Damn, that was hot," Myra said, her hands caressing my face and head furiously. "Fuck! Tell me I can keep you. Tell me we can be together, Mimi. I gotta have you, babe."

  I nodded my head in her breast, glad she wanted that, wanted me to love her like I just did. A woman that was well endowed was my preference, not really caring for small, skinny femmes that so many liked. I liked them a bit fleshier than my body, but not by too much.