Disclaimer: These characters belong to Paramount. I am only borrowing them for a while.

This story is rated NC-17. If you are not old enough or are offended by descriptions of F/F sex, please look elsewhere.

 

Stardate 53743.2, 0600 hrs.


I awoke to the sensation of lips on my left breast. The touch was light, almost non-existent. I was lying on my right side, right arm folded under my head, left arm supported by a softness that could only be her hip.

As I became conscious, I was aware also of a low deep sound emanating from my throat. Sensing that I was awakening, she increased the pressure of her caresses. Her left hand was nestled between my breasts, supporting the left one, holding it up to maximize her access. It quickly became clear to me that her goal was to make me climax from just her attention to my breasts. I resisted.

I also realized that she did not intend to kiss me. This irritated me. We have been engaging in this activity together long enough for her to know that is what I desire.

I rolled left, dropping my shoulder to allow her more access, and she heightened her attack again. She was now biting, scraping her teeth against the nipple, then attacking the other breast. Still she pursued her goal, gaining ground even against my resistance. When she still did not kiss me, as she knew I desired, I rolled over quickly to cover her.

She did not lose contact with my right breast. When she still did not move to kiss me, I changed the parameters of the encounter. My left index finger contacted a small ridge among the nest of hair between her legs and she jerked. Her lips did not lose their place on my right nipple, but the pressure lessened. In a moment she realized that it was now a race, that she would have to abandon her idea of taking me without contacting my genitals. She moved her fingers quickly to my own sexual center, now lubricated. I braced myself on my right hand, opening my legs to accept her new caress more fully. She renewed her efforts even as I did mine. But she has had the advantage all along, even in this. I climaxed a full nine seconds before she did, a long, thunderous sensation that tested my endurance. It matters not how many times I take part in this experience, it never fails to inspire me as a true miracle of humanity. Her climax was hard and quick, and she gave up her lingering ministrations to my breast as her breath caught and her body spasmed.

Our eyes met as we both sought to catch our breath. I could see emotions crossing her features much as I imagined they were crossing mine. I leaned down to complete our coupling with the kiss I desired from the beginning. It was satisfactory. When I pulled away, I spoke the first words of our encounter. I told her that she was beautiful. I do not know how else to express my feelings for our intimate contact. She did not believe me. She never does. I kissed her again, attempting to communicate through touch what she could not or would not understand from my words. When I pulled away, her eyes were closed, but I still sensed that she withheld herself from me.

In another attempt to convince her, I moved to her most tender spot. It is a difficult skill, that of placing my tongue with precision on such a small spot, so carefully concealed. I have spent some time mastering it. This time she did not resist my attentions and her climax was long and slow, waves flexing her slender frame again and again. I told her again that she was beautiful, and perhaps this time she did not disbelieve me so much.

I have studied interactions of this kind. The medical texts are quite clear about the physical aspects of copulation. They clearly define the most sensitive locations of the human female anatomy and I have used this knowledge extensively. The psychological texts are also explicit in their description of intimate relationships. However, I am unable to correlate these narratives with my own experience. I fear that it requires many years to understand the multitude of emotions surrounding such a personal connection.

I know that I am sometimes overwhelmed by feelings that I am unable to define. She does not want to discuss this with me. Each time I attempted to broach the subject with her, she put me off. I have ceased trying. I know that she is also overcome by sentiment at times, and on several occasions has appeared about to say something concerning her emotional state, but instead kisses me sadly or turns away.

She has requested that I be discreet about our relationship and I have complied. The only record of our intimacies is in this, my private log, secured by Borg encryption algorithms. We are very cautious when together in public. It is difficult for me at times, but it is as she wishes. She does not want to create a scandal among the crew. She says that this kind of relationship between two people in a close-knit group can be dangerous, especially when discord among the crew could endanger Voyager's chances of returning to the Alpha Quadrant. Perhaps that is why the Borg do not allow such relationships.

As I review this log entry, I find that mere words are inadequate for describing our coupling. I derive much comfort from it. It allows me to feel more at home in my new collective. It also brings me closer to humanity in ways that no other activity can. I only hope that this, like so many other things on Voyager, I will understand in time.

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On to Part 2

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