From her reaction, I knew that she had heard a lot of comparisons between herself and Ellen; but I saw that what I'd said had done what I meant it to: let her know that I saw her as a unique individual, and not some sort of clone or copy of the original. The smile I got was pleased, and delighted and touched me. Once I was on my side next to her, I took one of her hand between mine and gently held it as I told her "Carol, I want to make sure and tell you something. I know that this is your first time, and I truly am honored that you would want to have me be with you for that. I know it's something special for you, and I'm going to do the very best I can to make sure that it stays special. I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, but if something I do does hurt you, I want you to tell me, so I can stop. Would you do that for me?"
She nodded, and I went on "I know that you've got some idea of what we can do. What I want to say is that we don't have to do anything that you don't want, and there's no reason that we can't do anything that you do want. If there's something you want to know, I'll do my best to answer you. If there's something you want to say, I'll listen – and I can honestly promise I won't take it personally or let it upset me. I'm not going to push you or rush you in any way; and if you want to stop any of this at any time, that's just exactly what we'll do: STOP. I care about you, and what happens between us is important to me. Important enough that what I want when we're done is that you're happy with how things turned out, not that I am. Okay?"
Smiling, she nodded again before telling me "I know you wouldn't hurt me, or try to make anything happen before I was ready. And I know that I can talk to you, and ask you stuff. After I saw how you were with Mom, I know that you want to make me happy and feel good, too. I'm a little bit nervous about this, but I know that I don't have to be afraid – I know that I can trust you."
Hearing that, I lowered my head to give her a soft kiss on the lips, making it as tender and loving as I could. When I pulled my head back again, I could see in her eyes that she wasn't afraid, or even nervous any more: she knew that I really cared for her, and would do right by her.
When I put my hand on her abdomen, she was willing to let me caress her soft skin with my fingertips for several seconds before she took my hand and moved it to her breast before telling me "I know you wouldn't rush me – but I want you to touch me like this. When I told you the other night that I felt a little bit excited about the idea of being with you, I meant it. Except that it's even more now that I've seen how good you made Mom feel. I still don't know if I'll have any problems or anything, but I'm sure that you'll help me make them as small as they can be."
From the tone of her voice, I could tell that she was sure of what she wanted; hearing what she said, I didn't have any reluctance about running my thumb across the rubbery pebble of her nipple as I moved to kiss her again.
She not only welcomed the touch of my lips to hers, but built on it: it was her that increased the intensity and desire of our kiss, and prolonged it. And when we kissed again, it wasn't long before she opened her mouth to let her tongue brush my lips and then come in to introduce itself to mine when I opened my mouth in response. As our tongues danced and played in the field that our mouths made, I could sense the passion rising in her as I expanded my investigation of the mammary in my hand. Her breast was as smooth and firm as any I'd ever held, and overfilled my hand by a good measure: cupping it next to her body, the edge of my hand was only about halfway to its peak while my palm and fingers covered only about three quarters of its circumference. It was warm to my touch, and when I returned to its peak, I found her nipple standing out even farther from the puckered flesh of her areola.
When I gently pinched and pulled on her nipple, she released a soft moan into my mouth; that prompted me to shift my attentions to the other – which I found to be just as delightful. When she moved her hand to my chest, I went about tending to both of the most obvious symbols of her femininity; gently, softly, and happily, I mapped every bit of their surface with my fingertips, caressing ever square millimeter repeatedly as I brought the peaks of both to full erectness while the two of us continued to duel with our tongues.
Our kisses had shortened due to the need for each of us to pant with our increasing desire when Carol told me "I want you to touch me…"
Not understanding what she meant, since I had a handful of her left breast at the time, I was glad to hear her continue "There… between my legs…"
Even with such a clear and unambiguous request, I wasn't inclined to just start pawing at her crotch. Instead, I took the opportunity to go back to what I'd started before: mapping the soft expanse between her breasts and pelvis. And since the kissing thing wasn't working particularly well at that point, I blazed a trail from her soft lips, down her throat – with a detour to an earlobe – out onto one shoulder, and then across and down to the valley between her breasts. By the time I got my lips fastened around one of her nipples, my fingertips had reached the edge of her dark bush. It didn't take me long to decide that although her pubic thatch wasn't as lush and dense as her mother's, it was still delightfully soft and thick, and a wonderful place for my fingertips to play. As I continued to suck on her hard nipple, I gradually worked my way through the forest on her lower belly to the area between her thighs. Still unwilling to move too quickly, I branched off to caress the insides of her smooth, firm thighs; a task that she made easier by moving her legs apart.
When I finally lay my hand on her mons with my fingers aligned with the cleft of her sex, Carol released a passionate moan as she opened herself to me even more. With the pad of my finger that was nestled between her labia, I could feel that she was already feeling no small measure of desire: she was quite wet, and I could feel the heat escaping the core of her womanhood. As I dipped the end of my finger between her vaginal lips, she arched her pelvis up in welcome to my touch before I carefully drew it upwards to collect a goodly sample of her oils – which I then used to keep things slippery as I softly teased the fleshy pearl of her erect clitoris. As I amused myself with getting both of her nipples as hard and erect as I could with my mouth, my hand stayed busy between her thighs: with frequent replenishment of the oils coming from her well, my tender ministrations to her clitoris soon had her making all manner of pleased noises between moans and pants for air. After I'd reluctantly concluded that I couldn't get her nipples any longer, or her areolas any more puckered, I started kissing my way down her body. I'd had a dandy time with her unconscionably cute navel and had placed a couple of kisses farther down her body when I felt her hands on my head. Thinking that she might have some reason she didn't want me to do what I obviously meant to, I raised my head and looked at her. But instead of an objection, what she told me was "I'd like you to do that – but I want to look at you, and maybe even do it for you, while it's happening…"