Reflections of the Best Thumb-Fucker in the World

by S. J.

She prided herself in using her entire being—soul and body—to give pleasure to all the young girls she been with. She knew she was better at certain things than others though. Literally she was nothing if not the best thumb fucker in the world. It was one of several tools in her “love kit,” superior to any penis, even little boys who she loved, and especially superior to tongues, fingers or dicks of other women. That petite thumb on her right hand, always sporting a careful manicure, was magical, powerful, and mysterious. Her mouth, her tongue and her fingers, exquisite in their own right, paled when compared to her thumb. The fact was indisputable as well as always appreciated.

She had been at it since she was 9, a “late bloomer” she sometimes thought when she was reflecting on the stories of the long lives of many older lesbians compared to her short life of 35 years. When she celebrated 25 years of lesbian activity , a year earlier, she spent days in reflection on the cadre of young girls she had thumb fucked. Although she didn’t usually meditate, in the formal sense, a quarter century of lesbian life called for reflection and renewed commitment to the love of girls inside her.

She honored all women by only thumb fucking young girls. She didn’t expect every other lesbian to understand, but she didn’t really care either. They had their preferences, she had hers.

Although she reflected on why she possessed the degree of devotion to young girls that she did, she never came up with a satisfactory answer. She “just did,” she thought, “more and better than any other woman.”

She had no interest in pretending to be modest. She concluded that she was “lucky,” but for her luck meant nothing other that the possession of a quality lacking in other females. Lucky also meant an obligation to give. The girl lovers who were “takers” appalled her, using and manipulating their young charges in inappropriate and unacceptable ways. She preferred to think of herself as far superior, caring and loving and giving. Her success with her thumb merely proved it, at least in her own mind.

She knew she possessed the ability to satisfy a girl like no other woman could. She thought about all the girls she had entered with her thumb. That number in her memory was exact, etched in detail, counting the first and the most recent, and all the girls in between. The actual number only she and the goddess knew.

Of course admirers, aware of her reputation, sometimes questioned her and often guessed. Girls who had experienced her thumb inside them asked about all the others. Her close friends could piece together the evidence they had collected, although she was amused at how naïve they were. Their estimation was well below the real number, a thought that more than delighted her.

She felt good that her private adventures were as well concealed as they were, although she enjoyed her reputation too. It was not, however, the result of a need to keep them hidden from her friends. Many of the friends were girls she introduced to her thumb. Others only knew of her exploits from chatter within the lesbian community. With some she had shared a girl. With others there were threesomes.

She simply reveled in those secret times known only to herself, the girls themselves and the goddess.

She recalled the seductions of straight or asexual girls, unaware of their sexuality or of the passion of women. She also thought about those girls who were already sexual, at a young age, occasionally and regrettably the result of rape or incest, begging and pleading for her attention. And there was the ambivalence of some of the girls, caught in a web of guilt challenged by a natural but powerful desire for pleasure.

The seductions were the ones she was most honored by. The accomplishment of “initiation” represented the epitome of success as a girl lover. There were the girls whose hymenal blood she brought forth with her thumb, mingled with the natural liquid from the girl’s cunt and sometimes her own saliva or cunt effluence.

Images of Shanna flooded her memory as she thought about her thumb coated in virgin blood. With careful attention, each time she made sure the blood lingered under her fingernail. It her memory it seemed as though it lasted for weeks, although she assumed her mind was playing tricks on her. Shanna stood far above all the other girls who had received similar initiations. Even though this 13 year old was a literal “ship passing in the night,” she felt confident that she was a girl marked forever.

It happened over the course of a weekend, although there had been numerous encounters of shorter duration. Shanna was most remarkable for her wit and charm, and her ability to orgasm. Not to mention with the easy with which she was seduced.

They met in her apartment complex on a pleasant summer Friday evening. Sitting on her balcony patio, located on the second floor of building 2B, she waited for her friend Leslie to calls with bar plans for later that evening. While she waited, she noticed this dark-haired girl sitting directly across the way on the patio of an apartment in building 1D. Her view was unobstructed since the patio where the girl was sitting was on the ground floor. She often watched the other residents from her lofty vantage point, so this day was no different.

What caught her attention was that the girl was reading a book. Not a paperback, but a hardback. She couldn’t tell what it was though. After a while, the girl put the book down on the grass beside her chair, then picked up a magazine from an adjacent chair that could only have been a Playboy. She wondered if it really was a Playboy and if the girl would masturbate while looking at it. Nothing of the like happened, unfortunately. While she watched the girl, she realized the girl was actually reading it.

The ringing of the phone interrupted her concentration. She want inside to answer it, displeased that she had forgotten to bring it outside. Leslie told her the plans were to meet at the bar at 10:30. She agreed, thinking to herself that she would have considerable time to wait on her patio. Really all she needed to do before leaving was to change clothes.

When she returned outside, the girl was nowhere to be found, although the book and the magazine remained. It was a Playboy, clearly visible from the short distance away. She smiled to herself. The book was placed face down, so she still could not tell what it was. She assumed it was a textbook only because the cover did not appear to be designed like a novel would be. As she looked down the sidewalk in both directions, wondering if the girl had taken a walk, the girl opened the patio door, returning to the patio.

She watched while the girl picked up the magazine, walked over to the far since of the patio, and sat down on a wooden, solid white chaise lounge. Rather than position her legs on the chaise, she straddled it, spreading her legs wider that necessary and planting her feet firmly on the grass. She adjusted the back so that she was partially reclining. In a quick follow-up motion, she positioned the magazine on her belly and resumed reading.

She wondered if the girl was otherwise modest, now unaware of a witness to her presence and pose. She soon found the answer.

“Hey girl,” she yelled loud enough to be heard but not too loudly, with hardly any forethought.

“Hi,” was her simple reply. The girl aroused, but only to look up and over the magazine. Her legs didn’t budge from their spread position.

“Are you visiting from somewhere?” She stood up, moving closer to the balcony edge.

“Yeah, I am visiting my aunt for the weekend,” was the girl’s reply.

“Did she leave you?”

“Yeah, she had an emergency at work,” she said, placing the magazine face up on the chase, directly in front of her crotch, between her legs. “She didn’t know how long it would take her.”

“Wanna visit me?” came the question from the balcony.

“Sure.”

“Then come on over.” Giving directions, she added, “I am in B4.”

“Okay.”

“Bring the Playboy too,” she stated, wishing the direction to sound as much like a suggestion as anything else.

Then she turned around, walked inside her apartment, and waited.

Sooner than she expected, the doorbell rang. She was pleased that the girl wasted not time in arriving.

When she opened the door, she was even more impressed with the girl standing in front of her than the one she had witnessed across the way. “What is your name?” she quizzed her guest.

“Shanna.”

“Come in,” she said as she closed the door and led the girl to the balcony. While the girl followed closely behind her, they were silent. She visualized Shanna as she stood at the door moments before, holding the magazine. She was wearing a pink, sleeveless tee with a lace v-neck. It has been trimmed to expose most of her midriff. It was obvious she was braless.

Her shorts were denim, frayed at the top, not especially tight at all, but modified to show plenty of flesh below her belly button.

She wore no jewelry visible anywhere on her body. Not even her belly button. Her tanned flesh was visible everywhere not covered with clothing.

She thought of Shanna’s face as that of a peasant face, rather plain, freckles, bushy eyebrows, Fanciful, her occasional reading evoked such a description. Her hair was dark, straight and long, The girl was well-kept if not middle class.

Her smile was the most captivating feature of all. Narrow lips, brilliant white teeth, opened with a sly smile, perhaps a girl who have a mischievous potential. She would soon know.

Shanna stood tall and lanky for a young girl, the nipples and shape of her small breasts visible though tee. She appeared at ease, totally comfortable with a woman she just met.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Thirteen,” came the girl’s reply.

Before she offered the girl a seat, she asked if she wanted a soda. The girl said “no,” then they sat down next to each other. The girl looked, actually stared, at her, as if transfixed.

“See any cute girls in the magazine?” she asked Shanna, immediately getting to the point.

Her next memory was that of Shanna still clothed, positioned on her lap, on the sofa. She had placed the girl perpendicular to her, with the girl‘s cunt resting over her lap. But not touching. She opened the girl’s legs by nudging the inside of her knees farther apart.

It was then she noticed the hair growth on the girl’s calves, adding to her already high level of arousal. The hairs were dark and thick, and had achieved considerable length. It was obvious the girl did not shave. The kind of girl she most fancied.

Then she placed her hand in between the girl’s chest and the sofa in order to move the top away from her breasts. The tast accomplished with some difficulty since the girl was face down, she felt pleased that bare breasts were now pressing against the sofa material.

The girl had her eyes closed. When she told Shanna to look at her, the girl readily complied.

She placed a hand under the girl’s face as it pressed against the sofa. Her right hand went immediately to the girl’s cunt, rubbing against it through the denim. Since there was plenty of space in the leg openings, she inserted her hand to discover some hair, thick lips and moisture.

But no panty. She wondered. Was this common or not? Then she wondered what kind of girl would visit a stranger as well as what kind of girl would do so not wearing underwear? She was more and more intrigued.

All of these features were pleasing to her. She smiled at the girl, who returned the smile. Repeatedly they smiled at each other. The girl was in her complete and loving control.

Shanna moaned, blinked and almost closed her eyes, then resumed her gaze. She gently rubbed the girl’s mouth and lips with the thumb of her left hand. Lips that were soft and pliable. It was an invitation for the girl to open her mouth, which she did. She took the thumb in, past the joint. Instinctively she sucked. And sucked. And sucked.

With one thumb now occupied, at the same time the thumb of the other hand, positioned on the girl’s cunt, found the girl’s vaginal orifice. Her first finger and middle finger were then situated on either side of the girl’s clitoris, squeezing it and pressing her hairs into the flesh. Shanna was now fully in her grasp.

The girl raised her body in response, pushing back against the thumb. The she would relax, only to press her clit into the surrounding fingers over and over.

It took no time to determine that the girl was a virgin. The flesh, encircling the opening, resisted entry. She pressed in, but the girl was tight. The thumb would need to be forced in.

The final rememberance of the girl jolted her, even though she has revisited that weekend with Shanna many times over in her fantasies. She slowly and deliberately removed her hand from the girl’s cunt and shorts, holding it in front of her, while the girl remained on her lap. Her thumb glistened with wetness and blood, which she soon cleaned with her mouth. Then she removed the girl from her lap, completely undressed her, positioned her on the sofa with her legs spread and proceeded to lick her clean and to another orgasm.

She gave Shanna the thumb of her right hand. Eagerly she sucked it in her mouth.