My best friend, Carol, came over to my house almost every day. Either we just hung out or sometimes did homework together. We were both preoccupied with sex, and the changes in our bodies as we approached womanhood. From overheard conversations or from gossip, we knew which of our friends were doing what, and with whom. I found some Playboy magazines that my father thought were hidden, and I shared them with her. We envied the centerfolds their well-developed bodies. I also found trashy paperbacks in my Mom's bookcase. Carol and I took turns reading steamy scenes aloud from them. I became tingly between my legs when we did these naughty things, but I didn't dare tell her.
One warm spring day, we were into a hot chapter of a particularly racy paperback. Carol read a scene about a woman who invited her neighbor's husband into her house, and seduced him. She read about the woman deliberately exposing herself, allowing the man to look up her skirt, and his growing arousal. As she read, I saw how she was lying on her tummy, rocking gently back and forth on my bed. I said, "I wonder what it feels like, having someone want you that badly?"
She looked up and said to me, "Yeah, me too. I'd be scared. How will we know what to do when the time comes?"
Her rubbing against the bed told me that she was as horny as I was. I was lying next to her and had part of the comforter bunched between my legs. I wanted desperately to touch myself there as I often did at night for relief. Then she surprised me by asking, "Susan, I have an idea, why don't we practice?"
"What do you mean?" I replied, "We don't have any boys."
She said, "I know, but we can take turns pretending. I'll be the boy for you, and you can do it for me." She said excitedly, "You go first."
"OK", I said. She rolled onto her back and I threw my leg over hers. I felt strange at first, but when I straddled her leg, and felt her thigh against the crotch of my jeans, it became more natural. I put my arms around her and buried my face in her hair. "This feels nice", I said, and I began rubbing myself against her instinctively.
Neither of us had much in the way of breasts, but it still felt nice pressing my chest against hers. I got on top and felt her breath, sweet and warm on my face. She parted her lips and licked them. I brought my face close to hers and pressed our lips together. Hers were soft against mine, and they parted as I ran my tongue over them. As we made out, I felt my pants growing wetter. The friction of my little bud against them was driving me crazy and I strived for all the stimulation I could get. I rotated my hips until I found her hard pubic bone, and my clit was pressed firmly between us. We kissed deeply. She held still and I fell into a humping motion, thrusting myself against her with increasing urgency. I felt my arousal build as it did when I masturbated, until I reached a point where I couldn't stop rubbing against her. My face flushed, my body spasmed. My orgasm overwhelmed me! Carol said, "Wow, that was so hot!" I looked down at her face, her eyes focused on some far off place. She was panting. Her small breasts crushed against mine, and the heat between our bodies, even through our clothes, was intense. I moved my body a little lower on hers and explored with my hips until her gasp let me know that I found her clit! She spread her legs and hunched against me. With just the right contact, I gently rotated my hips, testing her reaction. Soon her breathing grew hot on my face and she pulled my body tightly to hers. I pounded my hips against her pussy, fucking her like a boy, and it mattered not that I was a girl. I hunched relentlessly until she arched her back and clasped me between her legs. I muffled her cry with my mouth, afraid that we would attract the attention of my mother preparing dinner one floor below us. Our bodies tangled, we faced each other awkwardly. What could we say? Could we name what happened between us? My bedside clock chimed the hour, five o'clock. Time for her to get home for dinner. When I was alone, I looked at myself in the mirror. I struck suggestive poses, as I'd seen in magazines. I touched my jeans between my legs, they were soaked. My fingers rubbed the wet spot gently into my vagina, and I quickly became aroused. With my legs open in front of me, I sat at my dressing table and watched in the mirror as my fingers circled over the surface of my jeans, and soon experienced the rush of another orgasm. Then Mom shouted, "Susan, dinner's ready!" After school the following day, Carol was in my bedroom again. I was anxious to see her. I wasn't very philosophical about what happened between us, I just knew how good it felt. We bantered about our day for a while, as usual, and then Carol asked, "Want to practice some more?" I didn't need further invitation. This time we came together on the bed and kissed and caressed each other through our clothes. She put her hand under my skirt massaged me through my dampening panties. Her fingers felt so good on my crotch. Then her hand slipped inside my pants and parted my swollen lips. She knew exactly what to do, finding my throbbing bud quickly and rolling it between her fingers. I closed my eyes and opened my lips. Her lips quickly joined with mine, our tongues dueling. She had my legs spread wide and fingered me with one hand while the other cradled my head. I soon came harder than I ever had before! Then it was my turn to play the boy again. Carol was wearing jeans. I ran my hands over her budding breasts and then down between her legs. Her jeans were as wet as mine were yesterday. I kissed her and started rubbing outside her pants. She implored, "Susan, please, inside."
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I opened the snap of her jeans, then slid the zipper down. I slipped my fingers between her jeans and panties, cupping her mons in my hand. Her panties were soaked! I started rubbing and again, she urged, "Inside." So I put my hand inside her panties and felt her crinkly hair against my palm. Her lips parted familiarly, and my fingers in the slippery place between them felt both familiar and different at the same time. I was concerned about doing her right, but her words only assured and encouraged me. "Oh yes, Susan, there, harder, more, higher, no, lower, faster, harder!" I kept following her instructions until she clamped my hand tightly with her legs and grabbed my head and pulled me into a kiss so hard that my lips hurt! We practiced almost every day, for months. There was no embarassment, and no one else knew what we were doing. Although we continued to talk about boys, I will tell you honestly that there were quite a few other girls that I fantasized about practicing with! We still compared notes on which boys we liked and which, we thought, liked us. These conversations frequently preceded our practice sessions, and I think we both were glad to have a safe outlet for our sexual energy. But, more and more, boys were showing an interest in us. The parties and dances we attended often ended in makeout sessions with one or another of the boys we liked. I liked sitting on a boy's lap while he kissed and touched me, feeling his hardness beneath my ass. I knew that Carol liked it too, it was still a main topic of conversation between us. I particularly liked when we shared the same sofa or blanket, making it possible to watch her. Watching and being watched was part of my excitement. We were still close friends, but somehow we "practiced" less. Maybe it was no longer necessary, or perhaps it was becoming embarrassing for her. She declined more when I wanted to do it, but I kept my disappointment to myself, and did not press the issue. As we became more developed, the boys became more attentive. I wore my red hair long, and my breasts grew to a 34C. I was athletic and swam on the school team. Hardly a weekend went by that I did not have a party to attend, or a movie date. There were a few boys I liked, but I did not want to go steady. Among my closest girlfriends, none were going "all the way", but the petting was getting pretty heavy. We were the good girls, we dated the good boys, the ones most happy to cooperate. At its best, sex play consisted of kissing and dry humping, mostly clothed. Inside the bra was acceptable, and perhaps a finger sneaking under the panties, but that was it. Sex was just like Carol and I had practiced. I liked to feel a boy on top of me. I encouraged them to thrust against me, and particularly liked to feel them come in their pants. I was proud to see the stain on their trousers, although I'd never mention that to them. My sort of boyfriend was Glenn. He was very respectful of the limits I imposed. Within the limits, he creatively discovered many ways to please me. I loved how he elevated stimulating my nipples to an art form, and my panties were always soaked when he got to touch them. Against my feigned resistance, Glenn's fingers insinuated themselves under my clothes and between my wet and swollen lips, giving me the gift of sweet release, and he enjoyed the giving as much as I enjoyed receiving! Although I enjoyed sex with boys, my fantasies often involved other girls. Not every girl, but certain ones. I visited the public library, and researched the subject of homosexuality. I didn't think I was a lesbian; I enjoyed and responded too well to males! But girls did creep into my fantasies. Like my English teacher, it was her first year teaching and she was particularly attentive to me. And some of my teammates on the swim team, in their glistening suits. In the locker room, I sometimes had trouble concealing my fascination watching them change. I imagined holding them in my arms and making love to them, as I had with Carol. Glenn and Carol were my closest friends. But I missed the intimate contact with Carol. One night, I invited her to stay over at my house. It was a Friday night, and we were both invited to a party. Glenn was there, and we did some making out, but there were too many people around for much to happen. Carol was with Steve, her steady, and I saw him petting her through her clothes. Later, in my bedroom, we undressed and changed into PJ's. Horny from my incomplete encounter with Glenn, and from watching Carol and Steve, I had a strong urge to masturbate. Fortunately, my room had two beds, and I thought that if I did it quietly, Carol would not be disturbed. I would rather have had one bed, and Carol as a partner again, but I couldn't go there. Carol discarded her clothes on the floor between the beds and went into the bathroom. I saw her panties lying there on the floor and I picked them up. They were soaked! Carol's panties were soaked from being with Steve.
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I pressed them to my face, inhaling for the first time the scent of another female's pussy! I felt my pulse pound. The musky aroma made my own juices flow, and I needed to stroke my pussy, but couldn't do it just yet. I heard the bathroom door open and dropped the panties to the floor. Carol didn't notice the flush on my face, and slipped into bed. Usually we talked for a while, but she was so tired that she just fell quickly asleep. My body ached with desire. The crotch of my PJ's was drenched, and I caressed myself quietly under the covers. In a matter of minutes, I heard the deep breathing that confirmed Carol's sleep. I remembered her wet panties on the floor, and bent down to pick them up. As I rolled over, I bunched the blanket between my legs, and put her panties on my pillow, where I could appreciate her aroma. I humped the bedclothes and came hard, imagining my face where the sweet aroma came from. Feeling the wet material between my legs, I quickly became aroused again. This time I took the crotch of her panties, and put it inside my PJ's. I rubbed the wet material against my own bare pussy. My juices mixed with hers, making the satin fabric even wetter. I made myself come again, and then used my fingers to rub the mingled juices over my breasts. Innocent sex is sometimes the best. A grown woman now, I recall these experiences fondly and wish the same feelings could be recaptured. |