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Archive name: orday.txt (FF, rom, inc)
Authors name: Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
Story title : Orientation Day
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Copyright 2003. As the author, I claim all rights under
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Orientation Day (FF, rom, inc)
by Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
***
24 hours in the life of first cousins Rachael and
Jennifer, who approach their life-long attraction to each
other with caution, one step at a time. A nice ten page
story, more sensual than erotic.
***
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to portray any
person living or dead, nor any known situation. It is
meant for adults only and is not to be read by person's
under the age of 18, or the legal age in the
county/state/country in which the reader resides.
If you would like a Microsoft Word version of this story
(a much easier read), please contact me at
MarciaR26@aol.com.
You can also visit my website at:
http://hometown.aol.com/marciar26/ to read the rest of my
stories. If that doesn't work, which it doesn't half the
time, try:
http://members.aol.com/_ht_a/marciar26/myhomepage/
ORIENTATION DAY
by
Marcia R. Hooper
(marciar26@aol.com)
Based Loosely on the Short Story:
COUSIN JENNIFER
by an unknown author
First posted to Alt.sex.stories
July, 1993
I gave my cousin Jennifer her first lesbian kiss and her
first lesbian orgasm. This was on a Friday night/Saturday
morning in her dorm room at Maryland U., the first
weekend in March. She would be attending school with me
the coming fall and wanted to see the campus for herself.
She stayed in a temporarily vacant room two rooms down
from mine on the twelfth floor, only because my roommate-
-who didn't even come home that night, insisted upon it.
We had one very important rule in our dorm: NO HITTING ON
VISITING FAMILY MEMBERS OR FRIENDS! This for the all
important reason that no one wanted word of our sexual
exploits getting out.
There was a party Thursday night in my dorm room: small,
self-contained, no drinking or sex... boring I know for
Jen, who had heard all the stories. But for fear of
breaking THE CARDINAL RULE, not a boy on the floor would
touch her. I knew she was hot.
At midnight, I packed her off to bed but also posted a
look-out outside her door. My friend Amy came knocking
around one o'clock to say she had heard some suspicious
sounds coming from Jennifer's room. I listened at the
door myself. Very disturbing.
"She's screwing," my friend told me.
"Obviously," I said. The question was, what stupid was in
there with her, running such a risk. No one from this
dorm, I could tell you that. I intended finding out for
myself.
Getting the spare room key from Frannie next door--we
always lock ourselves out--I barged right in and found
Jennifer fucking all right ... but not with a guy.
After she shrieked, she shrieked my name.
"Easy! Easy," I said, hurriedly shutting the door. I was
so embarrassed.
"Rachael! What are you doing!"
"I'm sorry!" I whispered, wanting to slide right under
the door. Jennifer, whipped into the covers, with her
hair whipped around her head, was beyond embarrassment.
"How could you!" she cried, and I thought she'd start
crying.
"I'm sorry!" I repeated. "God, I feel like such an--"
"Ass?"
"Yes," I said, chagrined. "God!"
She sat there and fumed at me. She sat there and fumed at
me and tried to deny to herself that I had just seen her
doing what she was doing and in such a shocking position.
Mortified knowing that the point of the long shiny
vibrator, glistening with her juices and looking like the
cute nose of a little mouse, poked from a fold in the
sheets. It was the only noise in the room.
Grabbing it out of the covers, she clumsily twisted the
vibrator into the off position. The stingy half-light
sneaking in through the one dorm window showed me that
her face, neck and upper chest--puffing in and out like
that of a long-distance runner's--were a violent crimson.
I'm sure mine were too.
There was nothing to say, and so I blurted out: "You
brought that with you?"
"Rachael!"
"Sorry, sorry," I said, beginning to laugh. "I don't know
why I said that."
Her face, neck and chest grew even redder.
"Would you please just leave?"
"Jen..."
"Go," she said, beginning to cry. "Leave me alone."
I nodded and slipped out the door. Outside, my girlfriend
Amy stared at me, shock-faced and amazed.
"Not a word!" I hissed at her fiercely, "Not ever! Not
ever to no one!"
She moved her head slowly up and down in absolute
agreement. Some things, a girl doesn't share. It could
have been her.
-=-=-0-=-=-
The next day, I slept late, dreading leaving the room.
Jennifer was either gone, or was glued to her bed. Either
way, I was not seeing her until later . . if at all. But
at a quarter to nine, a soft rapping sounded on my door
and got me on my feet. I was shocked to find Jennifer
outside.
"Hi," she said, tucking hair behind one ear and slipping
into my room. She looked at the floor.
"Hi," I answered back.
I had on my yellow and white feety pajama; she wore a
baggy blue tee-shirt under a hooded, zipper sweatshirt
and baggy blue workouts. Her feet were bare. Also, she
was braless under the shirt, which for Jennifer was rare.
"I'm sorry," she muttered.
"You're sorry!" I said.
We both laughed.
"God," I told her, "I can't even begin to tell you--"
"You won't tell anyone?" she blurted. "Promise?"
"Jen, no! Are you kidding?"
"Thank God!" she gushed. Her face and my face were twin,
fully-fired ovens. We began to giggle.
"God, I am so embarrassed."
"Me too," I said, softly. "Totally and completely."
"Totally, totally-completely."
"And ten times past that."
We sat down and we talked for a while, not about anything
important and certainly not about that; things slowly
relaxed. I was trying not to show any interest in her
pointy little nipples, making dents like fingertips in
the front of her shirt. They moved beneath the shirt when
she moved, leaving little trails. I had not seen Jen
bare-breasted in many years, probably not since she was
twelve, but I distinctly remembered how pointy she was
back then. Embarrassingly so, because that turns guys on.
Some girls as well.
She certainly looked pointy now.
Fighting distraction, I started to get up when she
suddenly asked: "Were you disgusted? About last night, I
mean?"
I choked for a moment. Her face was red and her eyes
stayed mostly down, but there was curiosity there as
well. I myself was no stranger to that position--not with
my fingers anyway--but with a vibrator, I was. I had
guessed that last night's humming little mouse was not
hers, but probably Cloe's (you little slut!), or maybe
even Jill's, her roommate. With either of them, I could
well imagine.
"Noooooo," I said slowly. "Just disturbed. Not disturbed
with you," I added quickly, "but that I blundered in on
you like that." I let her know with a confessional shrug
of my shoulders and a flip of my hand that, Hey! Who
hasn't?
"Thanks," she murmured. Then, shocking the blink right
out of my eyes, she asked: "Would you like to try it with
me? Tonight, maybe? In my room?"
Eventually I shut my mouth. It was totally speechless.
"Jen... " I somehow got out.
"I'd like to," she said, in a hurried but very low and
very self-conscious voice. "If you'd like to too. In
fact," she whispered, grinning at her own use of such
ridiculous diction, "I just want be with you tonight."
Then, as though I weren't already rattled enough, she
took my numb hand in hers and placed it solemnly over her
left breast.
-=-=-0-=-=-
I kissed my first girl, Traci, when I was fourteen years
old. I still had my braces on and so did she. We joked
about getting caught together in a kiss, but also knew
that could very well happen. It did one night, freaking
us both out.
We were in her bedroom upstairs exchanging tongues when
two of the wires got caught. It took fifteen very tense,
and very long seconds to get them apart. After that, we
opted for lip to lip kissing until I got my braces off
two months later. Then we frenched ourselves mad.
That morning, I kissed Jen with just the same hesitancy
as I had first kissed Trace. We taste-tested each other,
letting the peculiarities of our lips--hers were
exceedingly soft and responsive--speak for themselves.
Once our comfort zone was reached, our tongues came
hesitantly together, and began their dance. We kissed
until my tongue and jaw muscles ached, and then we
stopped. It was absolutely, the best kiss I had ever had.
Having already blasted my sanity into tiny little pieces,
Jen fronted the question: "Are you gay?"
I slowly nodded.
"So am I," she said. Then, "At least I want to be."
"God, Jen," I said. "I had no idea."
For a time we just stood there, her eyes holding mine, my
hand holding her warm and pleasantly soft breast. So far,
I hadn't done anything with it.
"I know we're cousins," she said.
"Uh-huh."
"And that kind of makes it incest, too."
"Yep."
"But I got to tell you, Rach..."
She didn't have to say another word.
"Me too," I admitted.
Her eyes and the brightening of her face were something
you'd just have to see. "You do?" she said. "Really?"
"I do."
We were talking in whispers now, lover-speak. Or
potential lover-speak. You should have felt my heart. I
did feel hers. It thumped slow and hard and magically in
my right hand.
"Would you like to be with me tonight?" she asked.
I let my eyes, my labored breathing and my enveloping
hand on her left breast be my answer. She covered my one
hand with her two.
"Thank you," she whispered. And then she kissed my lips.
-=-=-0-=-=-
The truth was, my hand maintained its caressing hold on
her breast, while the tips of her fingers touched lightly
against my thighs for a reason. The first few minutes
gave the word "tentativeness" new definition. I kissed
the side of her neck, and then her shoulder and she
shuddered deeply.
"Wow," she muttered, then shuddered again.
I wondered if I could wait that long.
"Look," I said, wanting--needing--to keep myself honest.
"There's something I have to tell you, Jen."
"You're involved," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Uh-huh."
"I'm not jealous, or envious or anything." She touched my
nose with the tip of her finger, and then my lips. "It's
just that, you know, with you and me..."
Her mom and my dad were born on the same day, exactly
tens years apart. Jen and I were born on the exact same
day, one year apart. I was the youngest of my four
siblings; Jen was the oldest of three. She was two weeks
past her eighteenth birthday on that Friday morning in
March, and I was nineteen. We had always been close. We
had always been very close.
In school, we pal'd around together all the way through
seventh grade. Then, in 1995, when Jen was twelve and I
was thirteen, her mom and dad moved from Maryland to
Wentworth, Ohio. (Yes, that Wentworth, Ohio, where all
those people were killed.) My heart nearly broke. It did
break because I missed her so very much. We had shared
everything together; interests: magazines, music, movies,
clothing, shows on TV; make-up (what little her mom let
her have); after school activities: soccer, T-ball, trips
to the mall, all the latest dance steps which we had
learned together; we even shared underwear sometimes and
once even a boy. (No, not like that. When she let, we
both were still virgins.) And though we had never kissed
before, nor for that matter ever even thought about
kissing, our relationship went far beyond being merely
cousins. Even kissing cousins.
She moved onto Poplar Street, two blocks north of Poplar
and Bear. Aunt Kim and our cousin Suzi lived at 243
Poplar, right in the midst of the killings. Suzi's close
friend Debbie Ross was gunned down on some old fart's
front step, Jen said, shot-gunned in the back, if you can
believe that. Jen sent me a picture of her from the high
school year book via e-mail ... she was very pretty.
They never caught the scum.
The killings happened the summer after Jennifer moved
out, so there'd been a year to make friends. Three of
them died that day in July (she also knew Debbie Ross) as
well as some grown-ups she had known. It made her sick.
It horrified her. She says that two days after the siege
there were still signs of blood on the ground where Mary
Jackson (one of the grown ups) had died. She was very
pretty, Jen said, and they had shot her in the head. (Per
Jen, it was said they found her without any panties on,
wherever that means.)
Aside from those absolutely horrible killings, other
things about Wentworth were weird. One thing, Jen said,
was that on Suzi's block of Poplar street, 240 to 251,
she was the only teenage girl around. (Not counting the
twenty-year old that worked in the E-Z Stop convenience
store on the corner.) But just two blocks to the north,
on Jennifer's street there were tons of teenage girls--
forty-three of them in fact. So many, and of such a
narrowly defined age-range (13-17 years old), that
newscasts and magazine articles had been made about them.
Jennifer got interviewed about it three different times:
once by USA Today and the other two times by the
magazine, Harper's Bazaar. Bizarre, huh? (She won't talk
about interviews having to do with that other thing.)
Taken on average, that works out 3.9 girls for each of
the eleven households on the street. Can you even
imagine?
In school, the guys called them the Poplar Street
Pussies.
We spent hours together talking on the telephone, then on
AOL when I finally got my computer. But as the months
went by and finally turned into years, our lives drifted
their separate ways. Jen found a boy she liked and then
another, and the phone calls and chat-conversations
slowed. I met Traci Fulton and my initial attraction
turned into a frightful obsession; then I discovered that
she really liked me too and we took my first kiss behind
the Gaithersburg Public Library on a cold Thursday night
in December; I never looked back. Only, as I was
discovering now, my feelings for Jen hadn't died.
They'd only been asleep.
I released her breast and took her face in my hands. "I
love you," I said. "You know that, right?"
"I know."
"Since we were this big," I said, indicating about two
feet tall.
She giggled.
"Well... " I raised my hand up a foot. "Maybe this big."
She put her hands on my face and we touched our noses and
foreheads together. We said nothing for a good long time,
only breathing each other's fragrances and breathing each
other's air; when the moment was right, we kissed again.
"God," I said. "I am so afraid to touch you, Jen."
"Why?" she said, although I think she knew.
"Because," I sighed, "You would never leave this room
alive."
Just then we heard a rustle outside the door, and some
murmured voices, and I knew my roommate was back. We
stepped quickly apart.
"Hi, Marie," I said, as Marie staggered in.
"Jesus!" She dropped her bag on the floor and her blow
dryer and see-through cosmetics case tumbled out. She
whipped off her jacket and threw that on the floor as
well. Her hair was a mess and so were her clothes and I
knew the kind of night she'd just had. She grunted at Jen
and Jen smiled back.
I got sudden idea. "How 'bout a soak?" I said.
"A soak?"
"Downstairs in the sauna."
You have a sauna? her expression said.
"Uh-huh. You up?"
She hesitated, but only for a second. "What do I wear?"
she asked.
"Your skin."
"Rach!" she said, laughing, as we went out the door.
"There's a locker room and a place to shower," I said.
"The place is clean and always well lit. You don't have
to worry about the boys, either, because someone is
always down there guarding the place." I grinned, poking
the down button for the elevator. "Not that the boys
don't try."
She nodded thoughtfully. "A hot soak could be nice.
Thanks."
We rode down alone and I thought I'd better tell her.
"Anna's probably there," I said, "and I know Cindy is for
sure. Maybe Patty, too."
"Oh," she said, and then: "Which one? Is with you, I
mean?"
"Patty," I said. "For now."
"How much do you like her?"
"Nothing like how I feel for you."
If the camera in the cab weren't pointed straight at my
face, I would have kissed her then. As it was, I snuck-
held her hand and rubbed my toes along her foot. I loved
her touch. I tried not to let her rear end in the air the
night before with the dildo firmly implanted jump-start
my hormones, but I was not exactly successful. I tried
not to let my mind conjure up images of our coming night
together, if it really came off, and had no more success
with that. Most of all, I tried not to imagine her nicely
shaped and prettily-tipped breasts in my mouth. I looked
over and she was grinning.
"Stop it," I whispered.
"What?"
In the first sub-basement, I lead her down the hall and
through the first open doorway on the right. The sauna,
as well as the showers and locker rooms were in the back.
We passed the Stairmaster machines and the Bowflex
machines, and half-a-dozen girls working on them. There
were no guys.
At the back desk, we got a key for Jen, a plastic bag, a
pair of cheapo blue thongs (not the kind you wear on your
fanny, thank you) and a pair of fluffy white towels for
us both. We thanked the woman whose name was Muriel
Wentz--she grinned at my Tweety-bird feety-pajama's, odd
apparel I guess, even for the dorm--and went on back to
our lockers... Mine was No. 26, in the middle of the
third row.
"Share," I said, drawing a tell-tale grin.
I grabbed two scrunchies from the top shelf and began
gathering her hair. "Unless you want to wash it," I
suggested.
"I do," she said, and so did I.
She removed her sweater as I unbuttoned my top.
"You still bigger than me?" she teased.
I had always been bigger ... but not nearly as nice.
Boys stared at my breasts when I wore something tight or
had on my bikini, but with Jessica, they gaped. Which was
confounding since she was a 34-B. But then she peeled off
her tee-shirt and my breath froze solid.
Was I dreaming? I must be dreaming, I thought. I had to
be dreaming.
What a strange, oh-so wonderful world.
The smile of wonder and pleasure spreading across my lips
would have been just too embarrassing to endure, so I
said, "Excuse me," and headed for the girl's bathroom.
She laughed after me as I went.
Little brat, she had seen.
"This is Anna," I said. "And that's Cindy over there."
Both girl's waved in greeting, although neither got up.
In the volcanic confines of our cracker-box little sauna,
waving was plenty enough. Both girl's were naked.
Looking first at the two girls, then at the closed but
easily-opened cedar door behind her, Jen raised an
eyebrow.
"Don't worry," I said. "It's Friday. Guys are strictly
verboten."
"Oh," she said, as if this explained it all.
I filled her in. "Monday, Wednesday and Friday's the
sauna is ours. Sunday's, Tuesdays, and Thursday's the
boys get to use it. Saturday we share and share alike."
"Oh," she said again.
To prove what I said, I took off my towel and dropped it
on a bench. Then, purposely crossing to where Anna and
Cindy sat naked on the bench opposite, I sat down beside
them. Cindy, and then Anna leaned over and kissed me on
the mouth. Jennifer only stared.
"It's okay," Anna said. "Come and sit down."
Jennifer gave one long, stiptic blink, then unwrapped her
towel. Both girls ogled her breasts. I patted the bench
beside me and both girls watched as Jen tip-toe
cautiously--and quite self-consciously--across the box
and sit down on my right. She then slid sideways against
the adjacent wall because four on the short bench were
too many. I slid over and joined her.
"You're Jennifer, right?" Cindy asked.
"Uh-huh." She tried to relax, keeping her eyes in neutral
territory; they wanted to roam. Of the three of us
present, only Jennifer had pubic hair. Anna, Cindy,
myself as well, all were baby-smooth. And though I sat
with my legs discreetly closed, Anna and Cindy sat with
them fully splayed. Worse, Anna--always the tease--was a
little bit red.
Jen shifted enough to batten her legs.
"Relax," I said sympathetically. "You're among friends."
She smiled gamely.
We had showered side by side in the small, white-tiled
shower room, self-consciously at first, then with an open
awareness. I kept Herbal Essence shampoo and conditioner
in my locker, for when I worked out, and both of us used
it.
Pouring a dollop out in my palm, I lathered up not my own
hair, but Jen's. I worked her shoulder-length tresses
into a thick ball atop her head, then let it fall down in
her face. She sputtered in surprise, and squealed as soap
got in her eyes, which tickled us both. Then she did my
long black hair and for a time, with her strong but
delicately kneading fingers on my scalp and tangled in my
hair, I thought just being shampooed might make me come.
We kissed and held each other gently beneath the spray.
First under her shower, and then under mine--share and
share alike.
By mutual agreement we had decided to do more that kiss.
The rest would come that night, with the two of us in bed
as we had always dreamed, not groping in some steamy,
white-tiled shower. (Although, on hindsight, that
actually was a marvelous place.)
When I grinned and lathered soap in my hands, she had
grinned right back. "No touching," she had warned. "We
promised, remember?"
"No touching," I agreed, lathering her upper chest and
then her shoulders and then her biceps and arms. But, oh
my God, I certainly looked.
Jen is blonde and blue-eyed where I am black and brown.
Jen has an almost flawless complexion; I inherited mine
from my father. Jen moves with a delicately awkward grace
that makes my eyes want to tear; being pigeon-toed, I
clump around. She is thin-nosed, high-cheek boned and has
a dimpled in her chin. I have my father's nose and
well... my father's nose.
At five feet five and one hundred and fifteen pounds, Jen
is oddly-shaped. She has these knobbly hip bones that
protrude at her waist like a pair of bunched-up knuckles.
Her bottom is flat and lacks that oh-so critical heart-
shape that turns guys on. Below her small but
extraordinary shaped breasts, she bears a rack of ribs
that look good enough to eat. Her tummy is flat and so is
her lower belly, but you can see the soft bulge of muscle
groups running down the middle, which is not so
attractive. In a nutshell, this is Jennifer's problem:
she's skin and bones.
I, on the other hand, have flesh to spare. I stand five
feet five and a half inches tall and weigh one hundred
and thirty pounds. My breasts are twice, maybe even three
times the size of Jen's but not so pleasingly shaped.
Mine sag where her's stand at rigid attention, and where
there are stretch marks in places on mine--crinkles, we
sometimes call them--Jen has none. Her aureole and
nipples tip out the end of her breasts like snow-capped
mountain peaks, where mine look like galactic spirals.
They are also very big--huge--giving me what a one night
stand just after high school indelicately called,"a
cross-eyed stare."
So what, you may ask, do guys see in either of us gals?
Or other gals in me?
You know.
Stretching out on the bench, I pulled loose the towel
from around my head and shook out my hair. Jen did the
same. We sat beside one another, finger combing our
tangles, me looking unobtrusively--I hoped,
unobtrusively--at the spray of yellow hair between her
legs. I think she was looking at the identical spot
between my legs, but not at any hair.
"So Jen," Anna said before I guessed at her angle: "Sleep
well last night? I heard you got a little action before
you turned in."
"Cool it, you two!" I said tartly. "Give the kid a
break." (What jerk had told, I wondered? Amy? If so, she
was in for a paddling.)
Both girls laughed, but it was a laugh of camaraderie,
not one of taunt. Jen laughed as well and then we all
broke out laughing and laughed so hard that we almost
rolled off our seats. Anna did, if fact, and had to be
help back up. Then she let out a loud popping fart,
clamped her hands over her mouth with huge blue eyes, and
we all shrieked again.
"Jesus... Jesus," I gasped, wiping my eyes. "That hurts."
And indeed it did hurt, because a stitch had invaded my
side. I held it as I got up and stretched my muscles. "No
more," I begged. "Please, no more," which made things
only worse.
Finally, too exhausted and too shaky to do anything but
just lay there on the bench, we gasped hot air and rubbed
our aching sides. Anna glanced obliquely at Jennifer's
breasts, and Cindy did as well. I had fire between my
thighs--a real tempest--and wanted Jen between them. I
wanted between hers. I so much wanted between hers.
"Hey!" I suddenly croaked.
"What?"
"I'm gonna give you a hickey!"
Shrieking wildly, I quick-snatched her into my arms and
attached her defenseless neck. She squealed delightedly
with girlish terror and fought to get away.
"Unh-unh!" I grunted, determinedly sucking her flesh. She
was mine, and like a vampire, I'd mark her for life.
Backed into the corner with me squatting atop her lap,
both wrists clamped in my hands, her struggles quickly
gave way to a delighted abandon. I released her neck once
I had done enough and admired my handiwork. Already livid
and lined with indentations from my teeth, it was a
world-class hickey.
"Rachael!" she puffed.
"What?" I laughed back.
Her face was crimson and speckled with sweat. Her chest
labored up and down and touched my own laboring chest,
nipple to fully erect nipple. "My mother will kill me!"
she whined.
That's all I could stand. Gluing my lips to hers, I found
her tongue and gave battle to it until my tongue got too
sore to move and I continued kissing her anyway.
Suck my breasts! her moaning begged. Suck my breasts and
attack my screaming nipples!
I wanted to. I wanted to so badly, but not in there. Not
now and not with the other two watching. Jennifer was
mine, not to share.
We broke apart and I dropped panting back onto the cedar
bench, collapsing beside her. We watched in vivid and
open-mouthed fascination as first Anna, and then Cynthia,
went to her knees between the other girl's legs and
dined.
-=-=-0-=-=-
It was ten o'clock. The party boomed.
In her blue and white ruffle-front shirt and streaky
denim jeans, Jennifer looked rave. Totally rave. I wore a
blue and white-striped rugby shirt and zip-back black
pants and felt pretty rave myself. She was half-gone on
Tangerita's (Tangerey Rum Margarita's) and was dancing
and laughing herself silly. I danced with Patty, drinking
my Red Bull energy drink and Stolie Vodka and trying not
to get drunk. I waited for one o'clock, the agreed upon
hour, because at one o'clock, no matter what or who we
were doing (ha-ha!), Jen and I would stop it and head off
for her room. At one o'clock, I would claim her lesbian
cherry as mine.
God, what a cliche.
But oh my God, what a thought...
"Are you sure about this?" I shouted at Patty.
Patty's butt was planted in my groin and her arms were
snaked around mine; we ground ourselves obscenely
together.
"Sure!" she yelled. "You know me!"
Patty, unlike any other girl I had ever been with
(intimately at least) never got jealous. Never got drunk
and pissy or turned into a raving bitch, never set a
spiteful mouth loose on anyone dear. Not on me at least,
although I sometimes deserved it. She just had fun. Patty
was fun.
"You are amazing!" I yelled.
"No!" she yelled back. "I'm just Patty!" Which was the
very same thing.
Snaking my hands along her sides, and up and down her
thighs, I teased both her, and the radiantly grinning
Jennifer across the room. Coupled with a boy named Tim
from the twenty-second floor, she used her jean-clad ass,
her sexily ruffled top, and her magnificent hands to
tease him erect. Twice, she had let him hold her breasts
with her hands atop hers, and twice, I had mouthed
obscenities at her to make her stop. Holding Patty's
breasts only made Jen's grin get bigger.
She was such a tease.
"Are you sure about this?" Patty cried out.
I had no answer.
"She is pretty! I'll give you that! I could just...
well... mmmmm," she said, grinning like a shark. She
might not be jealous herself, but she sure knew how to
brew it in me.
Trouble was, I was jealous of them both.
"Just be careful!" she yelled.
"I will!"
Across the room, Jen had her butt doing circles in the
Tim-guy's lap; he looked ready to burst. His hands were
back on her breasts.
"Am I pretty?" I suddenly yelled.
"What?"
"Am I pretty?"
She turned into my arms. "You are pretty beyond belief!"
"Patty ... come on!"
She kissed me on the lips and I kissed her right back.
Jennifer had been pre-warned about this, that it
certainly would happen and certainly it had ... Patty was
my girlfriend, and a great one at that. So far, Jen
seemed not to be bothered.
"I don't deserve you!" I yelled.
"You're right," she hollered back. "You don't!" And she
put her hands on my ass, gripping my cheeks and making
sure Jen and everyone else there saw who was grinding my
front.
"You brat!" I yelled. If nothing else, she was a world-
class date.
-=-=-0-=-=-
One o'clock finally arrived.
Hot, exhausted and thoroughly flustered, I thanked Patty
again, kissed her goodbye and grabbed Jen away from her
guy. He looked stricken but let her go. Taking her hand
and dragging her out of the thumping room, I lead her
stumbling darlingly along behind me.
"God!" I said, unable to catch my breath.
Jen, sucking air and huffing it back out, only nodded.
Between us, we had danced for twelve fucking hours.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
She head-bobbed an enthusiastic yes.
I laughed at her.
"What?" she chuffed. "I'm exhausted!"
"Too exhausted for this?" Right there in the hallway, I
glued her mouth to mine.
"No," she said, panting, when I let her go. "Not too
exhausted for that."
Heading for the elevator banks in the center of the dorm,
I marveled at how disheveled we were. My striped blue
shirt was out of my pants, my underarms and back were
soaked; so was my hair. My panties felt embedded into my
crotch and the thin strip of thong... well you can guess
about that. Like always, it made me itch.
Jen looked like a girl who'd been passed around among two
dozen guys.
"What's wrong?" she said, both blowing and pushing hair
out of her face.
"Nothing," I said, laughing.
When the elevator finally arrived--the cab was half god-
damn full!--I dragged her on beside me and punched our
floor. Camera or not, I would have kissed her the whole
four floors down. On our level, I dragged her the twenty
five yards hop-stumbling to her door.
"Open it," I demanded. "Please!"
Part of this was anxiety at wanting her naked body, but
part was just plain needing to pee. Letting her close and
lock the door behind us, I bee-lined for the bathroom.
"What do you want to drink?" she called.
"Anything," I yelled back. "As long as it's wet and
alcoholic."
When I came out, she had two Heineken's ready for
glasses.
"Oh, bless you," I said, taking my glass and bottle from
her hands. "You are the best."
"I bet you say that to all your childhood sweethearts,"
she said, tinking the mouth of her bottle against the top
of her glass.
"Only to blonde ones in fluffy-fronted 60's shirts."
She looked down. She click-clucked her tongue. "I'm
embarrassed to even wear it."
"Someone I know like it very much," I said slyly.
"No," she said. "It's what was inside it he liked."
We stood there, sipping our beers and orchestrating next
possible moves. I suddenly asked: "This is, you know...
your first time?"
Her expression was blank. Then she exclaimed: "Yes!" as
though I'd just asked if she were a Christian rather than
being Gay. She actually looked hurt. Then she said, "For
you, Rachael, I would have waited a million years."
"Jen," I said, softly. "You said the magic words."
-=-=-0-=-=-
It was four a.m. The alarm clock on the bedside table
declared so in rosy red digits; my watch said the same. I
looked down at my sleeping Jen.
Slipping strands of still-damp hair back off of her
forehead, I brushed it through with my fingertips. She
stirred, but did not awaken. I readjusted the coverlet
she insisted in kicking off, pulling it up and tucking it
over her shoulders. I kissed the crown of her head. Then
I just held her.
Without getting grossly boorish about this, I'll say that
we had a lot of sex that night. A lot of sex. Maybe more
sex in two hours than I'd ever had in my life. Certainly
with a guy.
Taking the glass of beer gently from her fingertips, and
placing it along with mine on the glass-topped table, I
had enveloped her in my arms.
"Mmmmnnnnnn," she had moaned.
For ten minutes solid, we did nothing but kiss. Then,
slipping the blue and white hippie-girl shirt up and over
her head, I held it gently against her back and touched
and kissed her waiting skin. I purposely left her breasts
alone, not wanting the distraction.
"Do you like this?" I asked, kissing her slowly along the
ridge of her shoulder and up her neck. I chose a place
for another hickey and sucked. Though not as deep and as
violently given as it's big brother inches away (big
sister, I should say?), it still lasted a week.
"Mmmmnuummmm," she moaned again.
Drawing her ear to my mouth, I whispered two things in it
I intended to do to her that night. Her eyes popped
open... very wide.
"Rach! That's, that's--"
"Pleasurable?" I suggested.
She looked totally abashed. She blushed madly.
Leading her by the hand over to the closest of the two
beds--Cloe's--I slipped my fingers inside the top of her
jeans and released the button.
"Oh, my," she muttered slowly, watching as I lowered the
fly.
Oh, my, indeed.
I lowered the jeans to her knees and then down to her
ankles. I had her step out of them and then folding them
neatly, placed them on a nearby pile. Then I put both my
hands on her breasts.
"Do you know," I said, "how much I wanted to smack that
boy's hands off your boobies?"
She laughed softly; light danced in her eyes. I felt a
soft, continual shudder running up her back. She placed
the splayed fingertips of both hands against my back and
rubbed me through the shirt. "Mmmmmm," I went.
"Do you know how much I missed you, Rachael?"
"No more than I missed you."
I removed her brassiere.
In her sleep, Jennifer stirred and mumbled indistinctly
against my shoulder. One of her feet--I think it was the
right one--worked clumsily at the covers. I held onto
them tightly and eventually she stopped. I wondered
sadly, when she left here the next morning to go home, if
we would ever share this again.
After removing her brassiere, I hooked my thumbs through
the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. They
slid over her flat rear end and down around her thighs. I
let them pool at her ankles. I left them that way,
thinking it rather sexy. Then I had her remove my
clothing, one slow piece at time, all the time standing
inside her drawers. It was sexy I decided and really
turned me on. Jennifer also.
"Rachael," she said, putting her hands on my breasts. She
kissed each one on the nipple, then sucked each one
slowly. I held her head in my hands. Just as I was about
to draw her back to my mouth, wear my tongue out more
time, my cell phone rang.
"Who is that?" she said, incredulously.
"Don't answer it!" I hissed. "I don't care if it's the
fucking president."
It was the president, of course.
"Oh, no," I said, sickly, recognizing the number. "You
can't do this!"
Jennifer looked at me dumbly.
"It's my father!" I wailed.
"Oh, God!"
Picking up the cell phone--Jennifer backed away, covering
up, as though secret service agents might break down the
door at any moment--I pressed the green button and said:
"Hi, daddy."
"Hello, sweet," he said. "What are you doing up?"
"Well, you know..."
"I know you better not be up to no good," he said.
"Daddy..."
"Look," he said. "The reason I called--" I suddenly heard
my mother in the background, wanting to know what was
going on. She took away the phone from my dad and said:
"Rachael Marie! Are you drinking again?"
"Hello, Mother," I said, mouthing a desperate, "Shit!" to
Jen. She grimaced and bit her lip. Then she bent down and
snatched up her panties and bra and mouthing, "Don't you
do that!" I made her put them down again. She stood there
fidgeting foot to foot and biting her thumbnail.
"I've been dancing," I said. "That's all."
"Where are you now?"
"With Jennifer."
"In her room?"
"Of course," I said. "Where else?"
"Don't you get snippy with me."
"Sorry," I said and rolled my eyes. Jen grinned and
relaxed a bit.
There was a momentary silence.
"Mom?"
"Yes, I'm here."
"What's going on?"
My father was talking to someone else in the background.
He sounded mad. Then I heard a phone slam down--you
always know that distinctive sound, don't you, even over
another phone--and I knew it was trouble
Jen whispered: "Are we okay?"
I nodded yes. Something was wrong, but not the kind of
something that brought my agents running. "It's fine," I
mouthed. But there was no stopping that banner headline
from flashing in my head, the one in every grocery
checkout tomorrow reading: "PRESIDENTIAL DAUGHTER CAUGHT
IN LESBIAN TRYST WITH YOUNGER COUSIN!"
My father took back the phone. He was livid, but trying
not to show it. "We'll talk to you later, Rach. Gotta go.
Have a nice weekend and say hi to Jen for us, okay?"
"I will Dad," I said, even as he hung up the phone.
I stood there and stared, first at the dead cell phone in
my hand, and then across at Jen. I understood.
Laughing, I dropped the cell phone on top of Jen's
panties and bra, grabbed her back into my arms, and
reconnected our mouths. I kissed her very hard. When we
broke for air some minutes later, I laughed again at her
puzzled expression.
"My sister," I said. "Not me. I'm the good one,
remember?"
-=-=-0-=-=-
For a full half-century we lay there on the bed, using
our lips, our tongues, our fingers, our toes, the instep
of our feet and anything else we had to touch each other
with. Our hands, gripped so tightly together at times
that in the morning my knuckles ached, spent what time
they weren't together down between our legs. Our legs
wrapped around each other like strands of hair in a braid
When things grew really intense, we ended up sideways on
the bed, feet dangling off one side, our heads off the
other. I spent minutes--long luxurious minutes--sucking
each of her breasts. I delivered them both gorgeous twin
hickeys.
As I did this, the middle finger of someone's hand
slipped up my aching vagina, and the middle finger of her
other hand went up my behind. Together, they laid claim
to my entire insides. I felt we were eight-tentacled like
an octopus.
The rest belongs to Jennifer and myself and, if she wants
to tell you about it she can. I will not. Suffice it to
say, however, that the two things I whispered into her
ear that night, well, she liked these two things a lot
and a whole lot more.
And yes, we do now share a room together, just not in the
White House.
THE END
Note to the reader: If you are wondering about the
Wentworth, Ohio business, I was reading the Stephen
King/Richard Bachman book "The Regulators" at the time
that I wrote this story. It fit in kinda neat, so I
thought I'd stick it in.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 23