Disclaimers

Welcome dear reader! The majority of these stories depict romantic relationships between women and may contain sexual situations. If you do not like this sort of material please find suitable reading material elsewhere.

If you do like this sort of thing, then please, read on. ;)

Thank you.

p.s. I love feedback- so any comments are more than welcome! :)

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Diary

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! ;)

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.