Disclaimers:
Characters depicted below are the property of Naoko Takeuchi.
This story depicts sexual acts between two women. If this is not to your taste please find other suitable reading material. If you are a minor/and or breaking any laws kindly hit the "back" arrow. However if this is your cup of tea then by all means, enjoy! ;)
Characters depicted below are the property of Naoko Takeuchi.
This story depicts sexual acts between two women. If this is not to your taste please find other suitable reading material. If you are a minor/and or breaking any laws kindly hit the "back" arrow. However if this is your cup of tea then by all means, enjoy! ;)
Diary
12/16/20xx
Love
of mine, do you know?
Do
you ever wonder why, in the midst of a perfectly innocent
conversation I have to shift my gaze? To look at the floor, my hands,
the wall directly behind you; that patch of wall located in the space
about your shoulders and below your ears. Averting my gaze to
anywhere but your shining emerald eyes and your laughing mouth with
its pink-tinted lips. While the blood rushes to my cheeks I attempt
to regulate my breathing to prevent my breath from leaving this pale
body in harsh little pants as the urge to caress your slender neck
overtakes me.
Every
day that urge grows stronger. And every night, in the safety of my
bed I dream of you in all the ways one could possibly dream. In my
arms, you are above me; sweetly serious in your exploration of my
body. Or below me your autumn hair loose and flowing on my pillow;
your brilliant tresses muted in the dark, your bronzed skin
contrasting sharply against my white sheets. Your eyes squeezed shut
as I pleasure you as best as I can with my inexperienced hands and
mouth.
I
dream of you in all the ways possible and my heart races while it
simultaneously aches for you.
Makoto
slapped the diary shut but it was too late. Her eyes had quickly
wandered over the sentences following the neat characters of Ami's
handwriting. They grew wide with wonder as the words sunk into her
consciousness. Guilt gnawed at her for glancing at Ami's personal
confession. It didn't matter that the small green notebook had
fallen, open and page up, the words staring her in the face, daring
her. Once she caught sight of one word her eyes had greedily,
unconsciously gobbled up the next word and the next until they formed
sentences. They brought to light a side of Ami no one else was aware
existed. Oh, but that was wrong, Makoto corrected herself, she knew
all of the senshi were that way. No matter how close their bonds,
they all hid parts of themselves; those particular pieces reserved
only for a lover to see.