TMIVT update

Turning over onto her side, Kitty looked at her reflection in the window overlooking the garden. The delicate flowers and wild, though carefully tended, shrubbery reminded her of Ororo, who herself seemed an effervescent combination of untamed nature and the most pristine civilization imaginable. 

Kitty pulled the sheets up over her naked body. When they settled over her, she could still see traces of her nudity in the blanket draped over her form. It was hard not to take pride in her trim waist and flaring, womanly hips, as well as the slight but supple breasts that hid in the folds of the sheet. Thinking about all the lovers she’d had, it was hard to work up any hatred for her girl-next-door looks, even if she wasn’t arrogant enough to call herself a beauty on par with Rogue, or Jean, or Illyana, or—sigh—Emma. 

She did feel a little guilty for leaving out Rachel, who had a harsh, hard-won, even handsome beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. She was one of the most compassionate, caring, human persons that Kitty had ever known, and that was what attracted Kitty to her, not just boobs and butt. 

Kitty heard bedsprings squeaking, alerting her to the rhythm her own hips were pitching in as she tried to enjoy herself. She let them continue, but reached down to cover her sex with her hand, slipping a single finger inside herself. She could feel her inner folds tugging at it, pulling it deep inside her with every roll of her hips. She’d never been too much for masturbation—she never trusted that Emma didn’t snoop around for signs she enjoyed herself that way, and then every comment Frosty made took on a snide additional meaning. But it sometimes helped to relax her and let her dwell on past pleasures instead of the angst that seemed like the X-Men’s stock in trade.

She recalled a few months after she’d lost her virginity to Jean. Her once scrawny frame had bloomed into a set of curves that were stunning in comparison to her tomboyish figure before, and she’d grown out her hair to be long and flowing, much like it was now. 

Despite her newfound beauty, though, she was nothing compared to Ororo, who was barely human in her spectacular good looks. Her flowing white hair and sparkling blue eyes had somehow perfectly accessorized her jet-black skin. In its darkness, her flesh somehow looked as radiant as the night sky on a starless night, gleaming sweat like comet tails running over her body. Then, as was frequently Ororo’s custom, she had dressed scantily to enjoy the sun and wind on her bare flesh, her tall frame almost entirely uncovered save for a T-shirt that came up short on her lean torso and a pair of shorts that stopped at her inner thighs. With women like that around, it was a wonder Kitty hadn’t grown up with a complex, and no wonder at all she’d ended up gay.

Ororo had volunteered to tutor Kitty in literature. Kitty’s analytical mind was more suited to science and mathematics, picking up English major stuff only clumsily, but Ororo had a keenly romantic mind that teased out poetry even Kitty’s half-blind literalism could see. So mostly it was Ororo reading Yeats and Whitman to Kitty, trying to get her in the headspace to appreciate the arts as much as she did an elegant line of computer coding. And if anyone could do it, it was Ororo. Even her name was romantic. Kitty crushed on her without knowing she was crushing on her, thinking that there was just something about beautiful people of either sex—and Ororo was just about the most beautiful person that Kitty had ever encountered, inside or out.

But it was only after Kitty’s encounter with Jean that Ororo had seemed to feel comfortable acting on the attraction. It was like she didn’t trust herself to initiate Kitty into the pleasures of her blossoming body, but once Kitty had taken the initiative and desired for herself to make love and have others make love to her—then Ororo could stop seeing Kitty as the girlish innocent she’d halfway been when they’d first met, and begin to see her as the lustful young woman she was becoming. Had become.

At first there were the casual, almost innocent caresses. Her shoulder. Her cheeks. Finally, her thighs. Kitty always wore a dress to her private sessions with Ororo, trying to match in some small way her teacher’s effortless elegance and magnificence. They usually sat side by side in the groin of this tree or that, letting its canopy serve as shade, the fresh air and bright sun helping to nurture Kitty’s childish sense of what the world should be into a more mature and nuanced approach to both books and to affairs of the heart.

Then one overcast afternoon, when they huddled together against the chill of the day, Kitty was doing particularly well and Ororo was rewarding her with her hand in Kitty’s, tight squeezes of her palm and thumb stroking her knuckles. Ororo would smile so brightly that the grin would seem to become the kisses she pressed to the back of Kitty’s hand in affection, which Kitty would enjoy and sometimes bashfully try to replicate. It was after she had done this, her lips feeling rough and scabrous against Ororo’s satin-soft skin, that Ororo kissed Kitty fully on the lips instead.

Kitty felt her mentor’s tongue slip into her mouth, but the kiss was practically numb compared to the rest of her body. Her nipples firmed with excitement, while between her legs she could only describe the sensation as… weird. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, but she liked it. The intimate touch of Ororo’s lips was both fearful and comforting all at once.

Kitty at first thought that this was just another way for Ororo to show her approval, not a cousin of the thrilling, loving thing she had shared with Jean. Yet she couldn’t justify that naiveté to herself. She knew that it signified something else; that her heart was beating so very fast for a reason.

But without stopping to think, she sucked on Ororo’s wet tongue as she had done with Jean. The slurping noise she inadvertently made had her laughing disbelievingly at herself, while Ororo gave her a smile that didn’t beam sunnily as usual, but simmered darkly, the sight of it finding its way to deep within Kitty’s groin. The wind howled through the branches of the tree they were sheltered under.

Then things were much more serious, Ororo much more bold, and Kitty felt like she was being left behind, an innocent caught in a game she hadn’t played before. Ororo was peeling her shirt off, revealing no bra, only dark skin puckered from the cold and the magnificently dusky nipples that topped her breasts. Their hardness seemed to be an enticing offer for Kitty to touch, and she willingly did so. Ororo’s skin was warm and supple, feverishly hot compared to the cool touch of her long fingers, and Kitty could feel the treble of Ororo’s heartbeat inside her chest. It gratified her to feel that Ororo’s heart was racing too, that Ororo found her as desirable as Kitty found her.

“I’m glad you enjoy my body,” Ororo said in her richly tinted African accent. “We can stop there, if you wish, or there can be more.”

“I’d like for there to be more,” Kitty said. “I’ve… I’ve done this before…”

“And yet you’re not used to it,” Ororo said. “That’s alright. I hope never to be used to it either. How can one be used to such fine feelings… such a beautiful and loving partner…”

Kitty knew Ororo was talking about her, but it seemed much more fitting a description of herself. How could Kitty claim any amount of beauty with Ororo’s heaving breasts and warm flesh literally at her fingertips?

“It will rain soon,” Ororo said. Then she unsnapped her jean shorts, pulled down the zipper, and removed them along with her panties.

Ororo’s pubic hair was thick and glossy, not shaven as Jean’s had been or sparse as Kitty’s happened to grow, but… wild. As beautiful and savage as the flowers that grew unbowed in Ororo’s care. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. The tingling sensation between her thighs grew. Ororo took Kitty’s trembling hand and placed it on the white fleece; Kitty found it moist with arousal. The idea that Kitty could turn on a goddess made her own pussy clench.

Before Kitty could reconcile the thought of herself alongside a goddess—if coming to terms with such an outlandish idea was even possible—Ororo’s hand ran up her thigh and was gone, inside her dress. Kitty felt Ororo’s fingers, the elastic waistband of her panties moving away from her belly, more of Ororo’s fingers, still cool to the touch, moving through her pubic hairs. Ororo sighed; she must’ve felt how warm Kitty was. Kitty felt overheated. Injected with something far more potent than the fuel she was used to burning.

“Spread your legs,” Ororo said, and Kitty obeyed instantly. Like she’d performed a magic spell, she felt Ororo’s middle finger answering the act, inside her pussy now, making her quiver from head to toe. “And do you like it?” Ororo had asked.

“Of course… of course…”

“We will keep going, then. I have so many things to teach you, Katherine. So many things I want to see you enjoy…”

Only after Kitty had cooed at her sweetly sultry words had Ororo started to undress her, her blue eyes avidly absorbing the sight of Kitty’s delicate breasts. She quickly had the sweet little nipples sparking under her touch.

They laid down in the tall, obscuring glass and Ororo began to kiss Kitty’s breasts, taking first one nipple into her mouth, then the other, leaving both pulsing with raw life. Her fingers combed again through the reedy hair of Kitty’s sex. When Kitty could desire nothing more than her fingers, they entered her. The thought had struck Kitty that Jean had taken her virginity, but now Ororo had confirmed it. This was what she wanted and what she enjoyed. They kissed as if to celebrate it, Kitty feeling arousal pounding in her veins, reveling in the wondrous sensations passing through her—so like what Jean had done to her body, but new and different at the same time. She was enjoying it, turning into a tigress… a tigress who had to return the favor. 

They had sixty-nined, Kitty on top, tasting and enjoying being tasted for the first time since Jean. She had kissed Ororo’s breasts, realizing only as she did so that she had wanted to for so long. And she had made Ororo come, many, many times. It was a powerful feeling, pleasing a goddess. Especially when she had the goddess lavish that intimate attention on her as well. From that moment on she would never be able to forget how much hidden pleasure there was in another woman’s flesh.

Kitty climaxed again and again, each time better than before. The wind howled like a continuation of their pleasured outcries, stirring up their moans and sighs and gasps. In the space of an afternoon, Kitty had been turned from the awkward, gawky teenager she felt like so often into a sensual, passionate bride to the goddess Ororo, desperate for her caresses, even more desperate to return them.

That day with Ororo… beautiful, holy Ororo… had been a turning point for Kitty. The images of their lovemaking were well-memorized and much loved. Kitty could still recall the feel of Ororo’s body against hers, the wet caress of her lips and tongue, the tidal pleasure of endless orgasms rising and falling. She had come so many times under Ororo’s tutelage that she’d lost count.

There were many days like that. She and Ororo would meet frequently, not only in the thick forest that seemed like it belonged to them alone, but in the greenhouse, a well-concealed spot that they made theirs with their nakedness and satisfaction. There they would strip down until they were as nature had made them and glory in their enjoyment of each other for hours, exploring one another’s bodies until they were sure that every intimate source of joy from before was still there, every catalogued pleasure lovingly held onto.