Studying. Just one of those facts of college life. Me and Becky, friends since freshman year, roommates for several months.
“Who was that girl who said ‘Hi’ to you when we were walking through the union?” I asked.
“Oh that was Trish. She was in my poli-sci class last semester.”
“Hmm. She really lit up when she saw you,” I observed.
“What do you mean?” Becky asked, looking up from her book, smiling slightly, one hand playing with the dark, wavy hair that fell over her shoulder.
“I mean her face was one big smile when she spotted you, and she practically ran up to us. She was really anxious to get you in that discussion group she’s organizing.”
“Yeah she’s real jazzed about that,” Becky said, looking back down at her book.
Silence fell and I tried to study. But my mind wandered. There was something odd about the breathless pleasure Becky’s friend had showed on seeing her. Then I remembered something.
“Hey wasn’t it Trish you helped with all that cramming last month?”
“Yeah, she got way behind and I helped her out.”
“And you spent the night at her place once?”
“Uh-huh, just before mid-terms.”
Silence fell again, and I turned a page. A few minutes passed, but I couldn’t concentrate. Then Trish’s face reappeared in my mind’s eye … smiling, excited, flushed a bright pink … all the signs of … “HEY!”
“She’s into you!” I blurted, and Becky looked up.
“What?”
“She’s into you! Not just study buddies. She’s got the hots for you!”
“Don’t be silly,” Becky said, but her eyes slid away from mine.
Ah-HAH!
“You KNOW she’s into you! God is she gay?”
“Not as far as I know,” Becky said, but her gaze still evaded mine.
“Has she come on to you? Did she make a move when you stayed at her place?” I asked. I waited expectantly.
“Nothing like that,” she said, her eyes fixed on her open book.
“You’re lying,” I declared, sure of it. Classwork forgotten, I wanted details, and I knew Becky was holding out.
“It’s not what you think,” Becky said, but she looked me in the eyes and I knew I was going to get the truth.
“Actually … I made a move on her.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Ohmygod!” I said, stunned. I had no idea Becky was lesbian. In fact, until that moment I was sure she was straight. I’d heard the evidence twice when she did guys in her room, separated from mine by a very thin wall.
Becky was staring me down, her gaze unwavering.
“Yeah. I made a move on her. I wore a t-shirt with no bra and watched to see if she would look at my tits. She did … and pretended she didn’t. Then she looked some more. So I brushed a tit against her while reaching for a book. It totally distracted her. She got flushed and tried not to look at my boobs, but her hands were shaking. Then I tried a peck on her cheek, and she right away started frenching me. I pulled up my shirt and shoved a tit in her mouth while I was yanking her top off. I got her naked and humped her ’til she came. Then I made her finger-fuck me until I came. And then I sat on her face and made her lick me until I came again.”
I was speechless.
“It turns out she really likes a couple of fingers in her while you’re licking her clit. That gets her hot! Plus, pinching her nipples when she starts to cum makes her blow up like a bomb.”
Did I mention I was speechless.
I’d had a lesbian friend in my drama class in high school. For a second I wondered what became of her. Now my best friend at college was coming out. Or so I thought.
“To answer your next question, I’m not gay,” Becky said.
“You’re not?” I blurted, confused.
“Nope. I like guys better, but girls are great, too. And with girls you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”
She told me how an older cousin taught her to finger-fuck when she was barely in her teens. Long before she had her first date with a guy, she and her cousin were fingering each other to bliss on a regular basis. At first she didn’t even realize it was out of the ordinary. She learned about eating pussy from reading Cosmo, then experimented with her cousin.
“You don’t have to be a lesbian to have sex with girls,” Becky explained. “You just have to like sex more than you like guys.”
I looked at her, half skeptical, half confused.
“Listen,” she said, leaning forward. “Haven’t you ever laid in bed alone, aching for a fuck, but fed up with every guy you know. You know what I mean … fed up with their lies, their demands and their endless bullshit games. Don’t you get sick of waiting for one of them to grow up and be worth a shit!”
“Sure, guys can be assholes,” I countered, “but there ARE such things as dildos.”
“Right!” she cried. “I couldn’t live without my vibrator. But sometimes it is,
… JUST! …
… NOT! …
… ENOUGH! …
Sometimes I want to touch somebody. I NEED SKIN! And I want somebody doing it to me instead of doing it to myself.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off.
“Lots of girls are curious about other girls,” she explained. “Maybe one in 10 will kiss another girl sober, and that’s mostly if they can do it in private with somebody hot.
“But of girls who have had at least two drinks … I’d say three out of 10 will kiss another girl. Some will go farther — titty play, naked hugging, whatever.
“But if I can get my hand on a girl’s pussy I can make her cum. And if I can make a girl cum, nearly all will finger-fuck me.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“And there’s another thing,” she said, pausing for a few seconds. “There’s this thing you don’t understand until you do it.”
She stared intently into my face.
“I never suspected this … but … it’s a huge rush to make a girl cum.”
“Huh?” I said brilliantly.
Her eyes became distant. “It makes me feel so powerful when a girl starts to moan and gasp for air, and she starts to hump and then … then she explodes and she wails and … and each one is different. Some scream, some moan, some are so quiet you can barely tell, but you know they’re cumming and cumming hard because YOU made them cum!”
We were both silent for a moment.
“So if you’re diddling these straight girls,” I finally said. “What’s the point? They’re straight. They don’t know how to make you feel good.”
“Actually you’re wrong about that,” Becky said. “Any girl who has ever fingered herself, or gotten head knows what to do. And if she gets off track, I just tell her what I want. It’s easier to tell a girl what feels good. They don’t get all offended, like you’re saying they’re bad in bed.”
“But don’t straight girls get ‘icked when you want ’em to eat at the Y?”
“Most straight chicks won’t eat you the first time, but after you eat them once or twice they think, ‘Well, she likes it!’ Then I think they get curious,” Becky said.
“The girls I’ve done …… some wound up licking when it was their turn. And most of the ones who won’t eat pussy will finger-fuck you,” Becky said. “It’s pretty hot fingering a girl who’s fingering you at the same time, seeing who can make the other cum first.
“Most girls who’ll kiss you will let you feel their titties. And then maybe they’ll grab yours. Everybody likes tits, and everybody likes their tits played with by somebody who knows how. But a lot just won’t go any further. They won’t touch your cooz and won’t let you touch theirs. That’s okay. Kissing and titty play is still fun. I can get myself off later.”
“And I’ve gotten really good at reading the signals. Girls who aren’t interested will throw out a stop sign right away. But one girl who stopped me came back a couple of weeks later … and let me know she was curious.”
“Have you done it with any lesbians?” I asked curiously.
“A couple. They’re really good at the sex, but they hate it that I like guys. And there’s still nothing better than a guy who likes you and really knows his shit in bed.”
By this time my puss was feeling warm and moist, and I was very aware of my my boobs. I only have a C cup, but my upper body is slender so they look bigger. I was glad I was wearing a bra because my nipples felt hard. I was breathing deeper than usual and my face felt flushed. I wanted to go to my room and get off.
But then Becky would know I was getting hot. And what would happen then? My head was swimming, trying to adjust to the idea of my best friend seducing girls. I had to get away someplace where I could absorb the news in private.
“Well I’m off to the library,” I said, standing up and gathering my books. I got out of there in a hurry while Becky watched me go.
Confused thoughts whirled through my head as I walked across campus. Was I that clueless? Sure we had our own lives, but why hadn’t I noticed Becky was into girls?
Then I remembered returning to our place late one Sunday after a weekend at home. Becky had been lying nude among her twisted sheets looking all tired and satisfied. Hell, her room reeked of pussy. I didn’t ask, but I assumed she’d gotten lucky with a guy.
Maybe it had been a girl?
And why hadn’t she made a move on me? Maybe she didn’t want to get involved with somebody she lived with? Or maybe she wasn’t attracted to me? Surely I wasn’t THAT bad!
Shit! This was going to change things. People on campus had to know Becky was doing girls. News travels fast at our school, and gossip travels even faster. Did people assume Becky and I were shacking? Did any guys know? Should I think about getting my own place? Was I attracted to Becky? She was pretty, no doubt, with big firm tits and a tight ass, but my mind just wouldn’t picture the two of us in bed … kissing … licking.
And I didn’t believe what she said about all the girls who were supposedly curious about girls. Could there be that many? Yeah, I notice a great body when I see one. But had I ever really been attracted? Not really. I’d spent most of my life trying to catch the eye of one guy or another. Girls were … girls. Guys turned me on.
Arriving at the library, I found a couple of articles I needed and took them to a study carrel in a deserted part of the third floor stacks. I mused over Becky’s revelation for awhile, then began to read my articles.
Fifteen minutes later somebody took the next carrel, separated from mine by a thin partition. I heard pages turning and paper shuffling, nothing more.
I was starting to make progress on my paper when my pen started to leak ink … just small blots at first, then a flood as the ballpoint fell apart. There was ink everywhere! Disgusted, I mopped up, threw the pen away and looked for my spare.
CRAP! I had loaned my spare to somebody in class the day before. I cursed. A vending machine in the lobby sold ballpoints, but that was a long walk and I didn’t have any change. Could I get change at the desk? Maybe I could borrow a pen from the person in the next carrel? I stood up, walked around to the other side and got a surprise.
It was Trish.
She looked up from her books as I stopped beside her chair.
“Oh, hi,” I said, surprised. “Uh, my pen started leaking and I was wondering if you had one I could borrow?”
Trish gaped at me for a moment, then recovered a little.
“Yeah … uh, sure. I have an extra. Let me just find it.” She dug around in a backpack at her feet and I had time to notice she was blushing. Her left cheek showed a definite flush.
“Uh-oh,” I thought. “She knows I’m Becky’s roommate. She probably thinks I know all about them fucking.”
Then I blushed myself, remembering I DID know about it … as of an hour ago. Trish didn’t look anything like the “out” lesbians I know. In fact, she was pretty, petite and girly. Her shoulder-length hair was styled and she wore light makeup. She had on a blouse and a casual skirt. Who wears a skirt to the library?
A little over 5-feet, Trish had a gymnast’s build including strong-looking legs and a pair of small, round tits in a bra she really didn’t need. For a second I pictured her and Becky naked in bed, then I forced my mind back to the present. Trish was handing me a pen.
“Thanks, I’ll get this back to you,” I said, and beat a hasty retreat.
Back in my carrel I had a hard time concentrating on my work. My mind kept drifting back to Trish just a few feet away. I wondered if she was gay, but in the closet, or straight like Becky, but turned on by girls, too. I tried to remember any gossip about her, and came up blank.
Then I pictured Trish handing me the pen and realized … she wasn’t looking at my face when she held out the pen. She was looking straight ahead, eye-level with my tits. Hmm. Was she looking at my tits? Or was she just avoiding looking me in the eye?
I felt a wave of heat roll through my body, my face flushing again. I remembered Becky’s words … ” I pulled up my shirt and shoved a tit in her mouth …” Would that have worked if Trish wasn’t interested?
Doubtful.
Then an awful idea occurred to me. What would happen if I shoved a tit in Trish’s face? I love, love, love, having my nipples sucked, but would it feel the same with a girl? Would a girl really do it better than a guy? Some guys drive me crazy mouthing my nipples, but most are too rough, or don’t take the time.
It’s too bad I’d broken up with my boyfriend over the summer and hadn’t found a new one. Several months without sex were not helping me think straight.
I’m not as bold as Becky, and I hadn’t been playing with girls for years. I could never brush a tit against another girl to see if she reacted. But I already knew Trish was interested in girls … at least one girl … and she was sitting in the next carrel. The stacks were quiet and empty. Had she really been looking at my tits?
Could I do it? Show her something and see if she responded? What if she ignored me? Could I make it subtle? No. Too subtle, and nothing would happen. Trish was turned on by Becky, but Becky had bigger tits than me. And Trish had not made the first move.
Without consciously deciding, I carefully removed my sweater. I looked down at myself. I do have good tits, round and firm with very little sag. My big, puffy nipples had embarrassed me before, so I always wore a bra, this time under a man’s dress shirt. When I arched my back a little gap appeared between the buttons. Would that be enough to tempt Trish?
Slowly, glancing around, I opened my shirt, removed my bra, and put my shirt back on. I left the top two buttons undone and the shirttails loose. I stuffed the bra in the bottom of my backpack.
This was the point of no return. My pulse was pounding and my whole body was flushed and warm. The itchy feeling between my legs meant I was seriously horny. I pinched my nipples to get them erect. Then I stood up, feeling clumsy and hyper-aware of my arms and legs moving. I walked around to Trish’s carrel and stood beside her. My nipples made big bumps in my shirt.
She looked up, her deep brown eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. Her eyes went from my tits to my face and back to my tits. A deep pink flush rose in her pretty face.
“Sorry Trish, but the pen you gave me ran out of ink. Do you have another?”
She was speechless for a moment, then silently turned away to dig in her backpack. Still ready to flee, I took a step closer. When she turned back my tits were only inches from her face. Now she had no choice but to look at my breasts … and she wasn’t turning away! In fact she was staring with … what? … desire? fascination?
“Uh … mmm,” she whispered vaguely and then the tip of her pink tongue licked quickly across her upper lip. She probably didn’t even know she did it, but that decided me. I reached up and slowly unbuttoned my third button. My shirt hung open and I simply pulled one side wide, revealing my left tit. My nipple was hard, and dark compared with my pale breast.
Trish groaned and in an instant her mouth was on me, sucking hungrily at my nipple. Her hands came up and cupped my breast, Holding it firmly, pulling me to her.
At first she was too eager, too needy. She suckled too hard, but I didn’t care. I was conscious only of jets of pleasure bursting from my nipple to rocket throughout my body. My wet pussy ached to be filled and I had to stifle a low moan of arousal. I put my hands on Trish’s head and pulled her hungry mouth against my tit. God she was sucking me good!
I stood there for a good three minutes while another girl worshipped my tit, occasionally glancing around to make sure we were alone. Then I pulled my shirt wide and guided my neglected right breast to her mouth. If anything my right nipple was harder, her mouth more demanding, the pleasure more intense. I couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped me.
“AaaaaahhmmmmmMMMMM!”
Looking down at Trish’s face pressed eagerly against my tit, I suddenly wanted to do something to her. I tried getting my hand down the neck of her blouse, but there wasn’t room. So I just grabbed the collar and gave a hard tug. The top button popped out or flew off, I didn’t care which, and my hand was sliding across the smooth, warm skin of her chest. I cupped a tit through her bra and gave it a squeeze, but she didn’t react.
I wanted her to react, so I roughly pulled her bra up and off her tit and quickly found her nipple … a stiff little bump. I pinched it hard and her teeth bit into my nipple in response. I jerked helplessly and my pussy contracted. Soon I was pinching and stroking her nipple while she sucked and nipped at mine. I knew our sighs and moans were getting too loud, but I couldn’t stop myself.
My senses were swimming and my heart thumping with sex-hunger. I could feel wetness in the crotch of my panties. I knew I had to have more and it no longer mattered that Trish was a girl. My pussy needed attention and she was going to provide it!
I hastily opened my jeans and pushed them and my panties to my knees. The musky scent of warm pussy suddenly hung in the air. Then I took Trish’s hand and pressed it against my hairy ‘V.’ She never hesitated, but quickly parted my labia, found my hole and slid two fingers inside me. I sighed as I felt her enter me, willing her to go deeper. Meanwhile her thumb began rubbing the top of my slit where my clit was a hard little nub, eager for stimulation. Her mouth never left my nipple.
My knees buckled momentarily when she found my clit, but I caught myself. Now one of my hands was pulling her head against my breast while the other held onto the side of the carrel to keep from collapsing. I started thrusting my hips to encourage the invasion of her fingers, sliding slowly in and out. And Trish began finger-fucking me a little deeper and a little faster.
“Uh-uh-uh-uh!” I panted, trying to spread my legs wider. “Mmm-uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”
Without warning she switched her mouth back to my left tit. Impossibly that nipple felt even harder and more sensitive than before and lightning bolts of sensation went shooting between my breast and my pussy. God I was getting close!
Now she was really attacking my pussy … two fingers sliding and squelching as she thrust them inside me at a faster and faster pace. Her thumb rubbed the top of my slit with every penetration, adding to the stimulation. Aroused beyond all control I wanted to attack Trish’s body, to feel and taste her, but I could barely hold myself upright against the rising waves of pleasure.
Three times I felt my climax approaching and three times my knees buckled, threatening to drop me to the floor … away from Trish’s fingers in my pussy and her mouth sucking my nipple. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stay upright.
Then a final wave burst over me and I was cumming … cumming so hard that I had to cover my mouth with both hands so I wouldn’t be heard all over the library. And she kept fucking me with her hand, and sucking me with all her might.
“AAAAGH!” I thrust my pussy against her fingers.
“AAAAGH!” I pushed my tit against her eager mouth.
“AAAAGH!” I welcomed the thrumming of her thumb on my clit.
“AAAAGH!” “AAAAGH!” “AAAAGH!” “AAAAAAAAAAAGH!” I cried, writhing under Trish’s assault.
It seemed like I stood there forever, remaining upright by sheer willpower as her hand fucked me slower and slower, then stopped inside me. And her mouth became softer on my tit, her tongue caressing lightly. At least another girl understands what an oversensitive clit and nipple feel like.
Finally Trish let her fingers slip slowly out of me and I sighed at the empty feeling between my legs. And her lips released my swollen, tender nipple. Shaky and slow, I pulled up my pants and closed my shirt while Trish watched. I looked down at her flushed, pretty face.
“Come to my place,” I croaked hoarsely, and she nodded shyly and began collecting her books.