by bobwhite
Author’s Note: This one has not been an easy one to write. It’s taken longer than I wanted, but it’s finally done. Flibinite, Born Blitzed, and William Pratt deserve credit for their help in editing this story, so if you do find a grammatical error, blame them—it’s their fault. ;-) Feedback is appreciated; tell me if you love it, like it, or hate it.
In her three previous years at Central Illinois University, Tamara had never attended any of the school–sponsored “Get to know each other” galas, as she mockingly called them. She had lived in dorms for those years, and having living quarters assigned was just one nice thing about this particular school. But, she wanted some room to stretch for her senior year—this was her fourth year of an involved Business curriculum, and it promised to be the hardest yet.
So, she found an apartment in nearby Springfield; but by her estimation, she’d run out of funds several weeks prior to her finals. She knew she needed a roommate, and this was the best place to find one.
As she drove to the event, she was concerned about her appearance. How do people dress for these things? she asked herself. She’d dressed up enough to impress but not so much as to appear overdressed; her long, blonde hair was done up in a nice ponytail and she wore a button–up blouse and some really nice jeans.
When she got to the parking lot and exited her car, she glanced down and straightened her outfit. At least I won’t intimidate any girls with my chest, she thought as she fixed her clothes and walked to the door. You’d think that I’d be used to being this skinny by now.
She walked through the doorway and into the main lobby, which was a sea of smiling faces. After meeting more people than she could ever hope to remember, she wandered over to where, according to her invitation, she could find women seeking roommates. And that’s when she met Jeff.
“Pardon me,” she said as she bumped into him. He was not as tall as she was—she was nearly six feet tall and skinny, he was a few inches shorter and well–muscled under his casual clothing. Reminds me of John... mmmm, I’d like to climb this mountain, she thought. She took in the sight of this stranger, the one who was openly leering at her—and for some strange reason, that was not bothering her in the least.
“It’s my fault. With a lovely lady like you walking around, I should watch where you go!” he joked. It was corny, but Tamara found it immensely amusing, and they began to talk.
She didn’t know how long they talked, or what they talked about. She did mention that she was in the market for a roommate, however. He, of course, jokingly offered his services—and when she laughingly rejected that suggestion, he proposed that she meet someone he had just talked to, a girl named Anita Petershein, who was a transfer from a school in upstate New York and who was awash in old money.
He introduced them. After just a little bit of small talk, they seemed to “click”—to Tamara, it was almost like meeting a best friend for the first time. Seeing that all was going well, Jeff gave made an excuse to leave so they could get to know each other. Before he left though, he handed Tamara his business card, explaining that he was a talent scout and that if she needed any extra money, he might be able to set something up for her—if she didn’t mind modeling. She had enjoyed being with him, and now trusted him enough, so gave him her cell phone number without hesitation. She couldn’t quite remember, but she thought Jeff had kissed her goodbye before he left.
Not long after she got home, Tamara decided to turn in for the evening. Her thoughts soon turned to the kiss she still wasn’t totally sure Jeff had given her. Definitely a better kisser than John, she mused as she got in bed naked, something she never normally did. Thinking of her boyfriend, she let her hands roam her tiny tits (flat chest doesn’t always mean small nipples; hers were erect and waiting to be pinched) and finally work their way down to her pussy. Several grunts later, she drifted off into sleep.
Tamara called Anita the next day, and they agreed to meet at a local coffee shop to talk some more and see if they would be, as Anita put it, “compatible roommates.” At the shop, Tamara and Anita really hit it off. Anita was a local to Springfield and commuted to school since it was so close. This was music to Tamara’s ears, because even though she’d been at CIU for three pair of semesters, she had never really taken in much of the local scene. Anita laughed at this.
“You’re from Chicago, and you think you’re missing a scene here? You’re kidding, right?” Anita asked.
“Hey, when you’ve done as much as I’ve done for the past few sessions, any activity is welcome—even skinny dipping at the lake,” Tamara retorted, starting to giggle herself.
“Trust me, that’s not as fun as you might think. Not with the Boy Scout camp on the other side of the lake... hahaha those little fuckers and their canoes. That was the last time I ever did that! I wonder if they get a merit badge for Peeping on Cheerleaders....”
“Well, at least you taught them something!” Tamara said, now laughing so hard at Anita’s anecdote (which was making Anita blush) that she could not longer speak coherently. Several people looked in their direction at the disturbance to the normally quiet store.
“C’mon, Tamara. I’ll show you the town. You have five minutes, don’t ya?” Anita said, getting up from the table. “My car’s outside.”
Tamara smiled warmly back at her new friend. “Sure. Let’s see what this town has to offer. While we’re out,” Tamara said, getting a little nervous at how to bring up the subject of rooming together (Just say it—she was there looking for roommates just like you were! she thought), “... uh, do you think we could, you know, stop by my place? I need to...”
“Show me the place you want to room with me at, right?” Anita said, a bit more seriously but still smiling.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Sure, no problem. I’d love to see it. Personally,” she said, quieting to a whisper, “I can’t wait to move out of my parent’s house. And, they even say they’ll put up my part of the rent if I find a place.”
It felt like a million pounds had been lifted from Tamara’s shoulders. Relieved, she said as they walked out of the shop, “Call me Tammy.”
“And my friends call me Anne,” Anita said as they got to her car.
“Tammy, some guy’s on the phone!” Anita hollered to Tamara, who was taking a shower. “Says his name is Jeff Derita!” Anita couldn’t help but feel a little quiver of giddiness at the fact that, for the first time in the few months it’d been since she’d moved in with Tamara, a guy was calling for her roommate.
Tamara, suddenly remembering him, stepped out of the shower and draped a towel around herself as she picked up the bathroom extension. “I’ve got it, thanks! Hello, this is Tamara Kubinski, is this Jeff, the model guy?” When she heard him laugh, Tamara realized her double–entendre.
“Ha! Yes, it’s me. Listen, you remember our brief conversation, right? About me looking for models?”
“Uh, I guess so... funny, but until I heard Anne say your name, I forgot all about it... I guess I thought you forgot all about me....”
Again he laughed.“Lord, no. But, I have finally found something for you. It’s a four–hour shoot, and you’ll be in a bathing suit. It’s for a catalogue for tall and slender women. You’ll be perfect. What do you say?”
“Well, I have some studying...”
“It pays $500 cash. Under the table, so you don’t have to claim it or anything.”
“Well... do I have to bring a swimsuit?” Tamara asked, suddenly interested.
“No, we’ll provide from wardrobe. Just bring your pretty self. We take care of makeup, hair, clothes, whatever. But... uh, you will want to get waxed... Brazilian style, if you know what I mean. Pretty much standard for models who do these kinds of shoots.”
Tamara blushed, but said, “Of course... I guess I understand. When?”
“Well, before the shoot preferably...” he started.
She interrupted him. “No, silly. When should I show up for the shoot? And where is it?”
Once more, the laughter. “Of course. It’s our studio at 1030 West Main Street in Carlinville. Be there at 8 AM sharp, this Thursday. Top floor.”
What luck! No classes on Thursdays, thought Tamara as she agreed and hung up the phone.
When Thursday rolled around, Tamara borrowed Anita’s car and made the trip south to where the shoot was scheduled. Once inside, she rode the elevator to the top floor. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted by stylists, wardrobe people, the photographer, Jeff, and... another woman in a bikini.
“Hi, I’m Wendy. We’re shooting together!” the other woman, who embraced Tamara as soon as she saw her, chimed. Tamara found Wendy’s hands to be rather warm, and for some reason, mildly arousing—Wendy was a pretty girl, but Tamara figured it had more to do with not having sex in months than anything else. Wendy then whispered warmly into Tamara’s ear, “We’re going to have some fun today, babe. First time?”
Tamara was definitely getting a little turned on, and her brain tried to rationalize the situation as someone took her hair out of its ponytail holder. OK, that’s normal... no sex in months because John is in North Carolina; this girl is hot and even a straight girl like me sees that; I’m nervous and she’s so nice... mmm... wake up, stupid! The other model’s voice and breathing, so close to her ear, was having the same effect as her hands, which were roaming Tamara’s back.
“Uh... mmmm, no, I’ve had fun before.” A few nervous giggles later, Tamara introduced herself to the semi–naked girl who was still hugging her. “I’m Tamara Kubinski, but my friends call me Tammy.”
“Well, nice to meet you! You’re in good hands. I’ll see you on set!” Wendy said, pecking Tamara on the cheek and squeezing her body snugly before letting go.
Tamara wasn’t sure, but she almost thought the kiss had given her a tiny, little orgasm. Now you’re just being silly, she told herself as the people directed her to her dressing area.
Minutes later, she was made–up, stripped, styled, and squeezed into a teenie–weenie yellow bikini. She barely had enough time to properly adjust the itsy–bitsy garment over her body before the shoot started.
It was little more than the two women prancing around and frolicking about on the faux beach set, complete with beach towels, beach balls, sand, umbrellas, and a nice ocean horizon backdrop. Several shots required the ladies to embrace each other. Tamara figured it was OK; she’d seen a lot of catalogues with those kinds of pictures so it didn’t strike her as particularly odd.
What was concerning to her, though, were Wendy’s undeniably magic hands. They felt good anywhere they touched, rubbed, grabbed, or—a couple of times—spanked her. She really wasn’t sure about the spanking or grabbing; she’d never seen girls spanking other girls or grabbing each other’s asses in non–porno pictures. But, the spread was for a company that marketed bikinis, she rationalized. She rarely looked at any catalogues that sold only bikinis.
Besides... and maybe it is because I haven’t had any sex for so long... but damn if this doesn’t feel good! I know what I’m gonna do as soon as I’m alone for a few minutes tonight, Tamara thought, almost reveling now in her feelings of excitement. No sooner did she finish that thought, though, than she noticed that the bottom of her bikini was very cold.
It’s the fan... it’s blowing on the wet spot I’ve been working on all afternoon! she thought frantically. She hoped the yellow color wouldn’t betray her obvious arousal any more than her clearly noticeable nipples would. She couldn’t remember when her nipples had popped, but they were achingly hard and had been for some time. As the last few hours went by, she knew that waiting till she was home to “take care of business” began to seem a loftier and loftier goal.
As the shoot wrapped up, the photographer shook each lady’s hand, thanked them for being so beautiful and wonderful (Wendy, as soon as he was gone, whispered to Tamara that they always said that), and as soon as she could, she ran back to her little dressing area—and to the bathroom attached to it.
Even though her dressing room consisted of little more than a small bathroom and a few tall barriers for privacy surrounding that bathroom (really, it was more like an office cubicle), she knew that she had to do something to quell the searing calidity that was threatening to burn through her bikini bottom... if it hadn’t been completely soaked with her juices.
She slid the bottom of her bathing suit down to her ankles, twirled around, and sat on the toilet in one swift motion. She quickly worked one foot free of the damp garment so she could spread her legs and, biting her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound, slid a finger into herself with ease. Her pussy cried for more attention and she added another finger, using whatever part of her hand or thumb she could to rub against her needy clitoris.
Just as she grunted in subdued but needed relief, she heard a man—she figured it was Jeff—ask, “So, did you have fun? Think about doing it again?”
She blushed four shades of red, afraid he had heard her grunt. It was quiet, but Tamara knew that women who make that sound do it only for one reason—and she’d rather not have anyone know she’d been so turned on by playing around with a scantily clad woman all day that she had to hurry up and frig off in the nearest bathroom as soon as she was alone.
Thankfully, as she walked out of the bathroom in the bikini, he wasn’t looking at her—he was counting out five $100 bills.
Slightly flushed with the arousal that had grown within her during the previous four hours, she quietly said, “Uhm... sure, I guess. It was fun. But, I have to go, so...”
“Yes, of course. Here’s your money. But, before you leave, I want to give you something else. Please don’t move; this’ll be over in a minute and you won’t remember it anyway.” Tamara complied and watched nervously as his hand went to her mouth, covering it.
Normally, she’d pull away from him, to free her mouth and maybe even scream. But, his hand was pulsing with some kind of energy—at least, that’s all she could think it was; it wasn’t physically pulsating but she could just barely perceive some movement. Whatever it was, it seemed to be tied in with her not being able to move, though. But for some reason she wasn’t frightened; and, when he took his hand away and held up a mirror, she saw that she was unharmed.
“Use your mouth well, Tammy. Enjoy it as much as others will,” he cryptically remarked as he walked over to where the photographer was gathering his equipment. Tamara, nervous and a little afraid, quickly went to the elevator. By the time it got to the ground floor, she indeed had forgotten about his hand on her mouth.
But, the arousal was creeping back. The memory of the shoot was still fresh and it still was turning her on. And, there was something else.
Getting caught... shit, did he hear me? Did he know what I was... oh god... oh... her mind ran while she got into the car and drove back to Springfield. The more she thought about how she almost got caught, the more horny she got. It just felt so... dirty. And for some reason, right at that moment, dirty felt right.
Running into her apartment, she glanced around and saw that Anita wasn’t in.
Thank god, she thought. I’m so damn horny I don’t know if I’ll make it to my room!
Sprinting into her room, she quickly undressed and jumped onto the bed. She got on her knees, burying her face in the pillows, and entered her wet pussy from underneath with a soft moan. Moving that hand to her clit, she moved her other hand over her back and fingered herself from above.
She rocked and bucked in her doggy position (which she never used to masturbate, but the need was so great that it just seemed right this time), one hand attacking her clit from between her legs and two fingers from the other plumbing her depths from above her ass, focusing on her boyfriend John—muscular, sweaty, manly John. They’d fucked several times last summer, but he could not afford to visit during most of the school year.
As her climax neared, she mentally drew a picture of him... his short, black hair; his muscular chest; that trim tummy; that nice blue bikini bottom that just seemed a little too damp in the crotch....
“Oh fuck!” Tamara screamed as she continued to work her clit. “No no no! I want John, I want J... oh... oh...” Try as she might, she could no longer conjure up John’s image in her mind. All she could see was Wendy.
She could smell that shoulder–length hair, and imagine grabbing a handful of it and holding her head still while she...
Stop it! What are you thinking about!! Tamara screamed inside.
Her self–answer came soon enough. There’s nothing wrong with checking her out a little. Those boobs look perfectly squeezable, like her ass. I bet they even taste good. I wonder if her nipples taste like her areolae, if she jumps a little when I bite them or if she just moans....
The image of the beautiful model she’d just taken hundreds of pictures with permeated her imagination. She imagined it was Wendy fingering her to an orgasm—and to top it off, Tamara found herself unable to stop masturbating. She was so close to releasing a climax that was hours in the making that she could not pry her hands away from her body for long enough to get that woman out of her fantasy.
“UNGH!” she grunted as she collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and spent. She slowly drew her hands from her crotch and lay on the bed, trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened with her little daydream encounter with John... and Wendy.
Sated for the moment, Tamara turned over and lay on her bed, relaxing and trying to sort out what had just happened. For the first time in hours, her arousal didn’t return and she thought she’d dealt with the last of it for a while.
Later that night, Anita and Tamara decided to watch a movie. It was one of the “chick flicks” they both liked. It was, as Anita told Tamara, a one–bottle movie; this meant that Anita and Tamara would drink at least one bottle of wine during the course of the movie. Sure enough, when the DVD player stopped at the end of the movie, their refrigerator was one and a half bottles of wine lighter and the movie channel they had been watching was showing a late–night soft–core porn. Late–night, soft–core, lesbian porn.
Looking at the women, Tamara found herself getting aroused—again.
Thinking about girls twice in one day? What the fuck is this about?? I’m straight, dammit! part of her fumed. She looked over to the other side of the couch, resting her eyes rested on Anita—whose body was driving her imagination crazy. Why haven’t I noticed how cute she is before? Tamara wondered.
She had to admit that Anita was hot... for a girl. She was shorter than Tamara and had long, dark brown hair. The hair matched her beautiful eyes, eyes Tamara found herself wanting to see flutter shut as her hands covered her roommate’s breasts and squeezed...
Shit, not again! Stop it!! Tamara’s shrinking inner voice yelled. Instead, her imagination turned back to the heartbreaker coed sitting next to her. She wanted to grab a little of that hair and pull her friend in so she could introduce Anita’s lips to her own.
I can’t help it if my mouth wants to kiss ever inch of her perfectly dark complexion... damn, she’s exotic as hell and I’ve never even noticed... and she’s certainly enjoying what’s on TV, maybe... maybe... Tamara thought.
Her answer came from within, again. Just knock it the fuck off! You can’t make out with Anita! She’s... a she, for Christ’s sake!
By that point, Tamara had been staring for quite some time and Anita had noticed. “Tammy, are you checking me out or something?” she teased. “Because, just so you know, I don’t bat for your team!”
“Oh, shut up! You know I’m straight. I’m just zoning, that’s all. It was a long day.” Tamara knew it was a lie, and was thoroughly embarrassed at getting caught gawking at her roommate.
Anita turned her attention back to the TV. “Yeah, suuuuure. And you want to go to bed, right? With me?” She barely finished that before laughing almost uncontrollably at her little joke.
“Oh, stop it!” Tamara mock–yelled. For some reason, the idea flashed into her head to try to take Anita to bed... but then it was gone.
“You can whisper sweet nothings into my ear for this whole movie, honey, but it won’t work!” And with that, Anita’s head fell backwards as she went into a fit of giggles again.
Giggling herself, Tamara slid over to Anita’s side, put an arm around her tummy, and jokingly whispered into her ear, “Are you sure, babe? Don’t you just find me so sexy? Let’s kiss and make out and stuff! Mmmmmm... sound goooooood, doesn’t it!” Strangely, by the time she was done whispering, neither one of them was laughing.
Anita’s laughter had faded when Tamara’s mouth started whispering into her ear. She began to breathe a little more deeply and slowly. Tamara, her mouth still right by her roommate’s ear, looked down at the girl’s chest and saw that she was nipping. Not sure where the words were coming from, she said in her most smoldering alto, “Why don’t we have some fun, baby?” and licked Anita’s ear.
At that contact, Anita shuddered and turned, facing her friend. They both looked like deer caught in headlights, but it was Tamara who moved first—she moved in for a kiss. Anita resisted at first, feigning laughter at the joke that (as far as she was concerned) was about to go to far. Tamara had already gone too far to stop, much to the surprise of both women.
Anita didn’t lean back nearly as far as she’d probably meant to, and Tamara found herself unable to stop moving towards her roommate. When their lips met, Anita seemed to instantly melt into the kiss, the muscles she was using to edge away from Tamara relaxing noticeably. One of Tamara’s arms made its way across Anita’s lap, and Tamara held her roommate as she continued the deep, hot, and wet kiss.
Tamara felt the strangely encouraging change in her sudden partner’s movements, and was confused by her friend’s response. Even if Tamara was questioning her hetero credentials at the moment, Anita hadn’t demonstrated that she had a single bi–curious bone in her body.
Tamara was even more shocked when her own mouth opened mid–kiss, seemingly of its own volition. Her tongue snaked out and gently licked a line across Anita’s tightly pursed but quickly relenting lips. After a few passes back and forth, Anita’s mouth finally relaxed enough for Tamara’s tongue to sneak inside.
Once it became an official French kiss, Anita’s body came alive. She arched her back, pressing her body into Tamara’s. Tamara, lost in the kiss, had already shifted her position and practically straddling her friend. Anita’s eyes, which she had managed to keep open for the first moments of the kiss, finally closed and she moaned into Tamara’s mouth.
This kiss was like no other, to both girls. Anita began to moan, her body writhing slightly under her roommate’s as the kiss became more heated. This sent Tamara into a little frenzy of arousal of her own. Up to this point, she had simply experienced a wonderfully hot kiss, but not the other sensations that were making her roommate melt.
The young women’s motions became more animate, and Anita began to suck on Tamara’s tongue. Tamara’s clit and nipples immediately started to buzz in response. This tensed her muscles and forced her to take an even firmer grasp of Anita.
She didn’t even remember putting her hands on Anita, but they were holding her fast. Tamara’s hands didn’t stay there, though. They slowly slid from her roommate’s shoulders and to her full breasts, squeezing them gently. Anita responded by releasing her lips’ hold on Tamara’s tongue and using her own tongue to explore the mouth of the suddenly frisky woman on top of her.
The kiss defied any sense of time for the two women; it was an eternity squeezed into a moment that passed all too quickly for both of them. Their mouths began to search out other places to kiss and even nibble, and they hungrily necked, felt each other’s tits and pinched each other’s nipples. Tamara had even worked one of her legs between Anita’s and was grinding her crotch on her friend’s thigh. Anita responded by squeezing Tamara’s ass and slapping it a few times while she nibbled on the neck and earlobe of the woman above her.
Finally, a voice that was lost in the haze manifested in Tamara’s head. What the fuck am I doing? I’m making out with Anita?! Stop! She’ll think I’m a dyke!!
She came to her senses faster than should have been possible, given the situation. Quickly releasing her lip lock on her roommate, Tamara sat back on Anita’s lap, her jaw dropped in horror, arousal, embarrassment, and fear.
“I’m... I’m... oh god, I’m so... so sor...” Tamara began, her head finally clear enough to realize what she’d done to her trusting—and straight—roommate.
“Let’s just go to bed, Tammy. Get up. We should just... you know, go to sleep. I think we’re both too drunk ‘n‘ tired to think straight....” Anita said, cutting off the last word.
Tamara leaned back to see Anita’s face, and they both nervously smiled at Anita’s unintentional joke. Finally finding her voice steady enough to speak clearly, Tamara simply said, “Yeah. Bedtime. I’m going to go to the bathroom first, if you don’t mind.”
Anita made no sound or movement, so Tamara stood up, went to the bathroom, and then quietly went to bed. On her way from the bathroom to her bedroom, she noticed Anita still sitting on the couch, her hand apparently lazily tracing circles on her right breast.
Exhausted, Tamara went to bed, forcing herself to rationalize what had just happened as a combination of wine, fatigue and maybe a little of that “experimentation” thing she knew some other girls back in the dorm did from time to time. Just an experiment. Just an experiment. A one–time thing that’ll never happen again, no matter how much fun it was, she told herself over and over again.
Once in her room, she undressed and slipped beneath the covers, naked. Her hands flew to her nether regions, and she tried to bring a mental image of John—or any hot man—into her mind. She desperately wanted to get off thinking about a man, especially after what had just happened with Anita. With two fingers in her pussy and the other hand attacking her nipples one at a time, she quickly came hard and very wet.
Unfortunately, as she drifted away into slumber, she could not tell if she’d squeezed in an image of John among the images of Wendy and Anita taking turns with her. By morning, it didn’t matter. She woke up with a satisfied smile. That was all that was important.
The next month passed somewhat normally, although the stresses of school were getting to Tamara—she’d finally realized that her long hair was falling out a little faster than it normally did. She’d always had long hair and knew that it always looked like a lot of hair came out with each shower, but she could tell the difference when her hair started looking shorter day by day. And, her roots seemed to be darkening. That was something she had not expected; she knew stories of women whose hair went gray or fell out when they were really stressed, but she was a natural blonde and she had never heard of anyone’s hair getting darker quite like this.
Less troubling, but even more mysterious, was the fact that her clothes were starting to fit poorly. It took a couple of weeks for her to be sure it wasn’t related to her period, but she finally realized that her breasts were finally starting to grow a little. This may have worried some people, but Tamara was happy to see this “development.” However, even though she thought it a good thing, Tamara was a little annoyed when she eventually had to give up on even her oldest, loosest A–cups and graduate to a B–cup. The only alternative was spending the rest of her college days wearing increasingly tight sports bras.
Heh, she thought as she bought some new bras from a nearby discount store, this is the first B I’ve ever gotten in school. She also bought some prettier panties; her old ones weren’t fitting well. Whatever was making her breasts swell slightly was apparently rounding out her fairly flat ass, too. Tamara was a little less excited about that at first. But, Anita had noticed and said something nice about it, and that made Tamara feel good. A little too good, she thought at the time, but good nonetheless.
Tamara had hoped her waning feelings for John were the cause of what had been troubling her since the night she and Anita had made out. And, while the inevitable breakup was likely to be a much needed relief, it didn’t lessen her feelings of unease about the whole “affair.” She’d knew been noticing more girls than boys lately, and had to divert her eyes from Anita more times than she cared to think of since “that night,” as Tamara now thought of it.
One thing that was definitely bothering her was how easily her mouth seemed to home in on many pretty girls. It was as if her lips were drawn to the girls she knew, especially the cute ones. She found herself changing the topics of conversations just so she would have an excuse to, say, whisper in a girl’s ear. Or, give her a “fake” kiss on the cheek to tease the guys. She would see them take a deep breath when she did things like this, and then she’d keep doing it, telling herself she was just trying to prove that the deep breathing (and sometimes, mild shuddering) was a fluke, a coincidence.
Tamara never quite convinced herself of her own motives on that one, though.
And she had found out that during her study groups in the library she was very persuasive with other women—especially if her mouth was near the ear of the girl she was talking to. It was like they wanted her to whisper to them; they would often lean toward her mouth, ear–first. That really amused her, but whenever she noticed it happening too often, she repeated to herself that it was utter madness. I have to be making this up, she’d tell herself. It’s just been too long since I got any. And again, she’d keep doing it to see if the reaction and willingness to go along with almost any suggestion was a fluke.
Tamara went home to Chicago for Thanksgiving break, and once there, she met up with John. They had a long talk about—what else?—the difficulties of a long–distance relationship, and they decided to see other people. Tamara knew John had suggested this because he felt that it was what she wanted—she’d found herself somewhat distant from her high school friends and her family during the entire visit, and the one time she kissed John on that visit, she felt that the spark wasn’t there anymore. She knew she still liked him, and they would probably always be friends—but like her old bras, he felt like something she’d outgrown.
When she went to John’s family’s house (a few blocks from her childhood home) to get some of her old things that John had told her she should pick up, she saw Emily, John’s sister. She had apparently just been jogging, as she was still in skin–tight shorts and a sports bra–like top that accentuated her small but perky bust. Shaking her head to clear the already–forming impure thoughts, she said, “Hey, John said I had some old stuff here—can I go to his room and get it?”
Being face–to–face with the teen (She can’t be more than 17, Tamara thought), she saw the familiar shudder and deep breathing that she’d seen dozens of times over the past month or so. But, this time she was looking directly into the girl’s face (which she rarely did when she tried this “trick” at school)—and she could have sworn she saw a flash of arousal. Just a flash.
“S... Sure, do you know where it is?” Emily stammered.
Walking past her and into the house, she stopped short and decided to have a little fun with the girl. The teen was still looking out the door and Tamara leaned over and said into her ear, “Yes, honey, I know where the bedroom is... would you like to show me anyway?”
Oh, you are so bad! Stop it, you know what that does to girls! she thought to herself. And, right at that moment, she realized that she did, in fact, know what this did to girls. That disturbed her a little deep down, but only for an instant. She was just having too much fun with the cute teenager to stop.
I’ll just see how far this goes. I’ll stop if it gets too... weird.
As expected, the confused girl shuddered again and led Tamara to John’s old room. Emily stood just inside the door to her brother’s room and watched Tamara grab a small duffel bag. It held a few of Tamara’s old personal items that she hardly cared about anymore, but they were still hers, all the same.
Tamara took the bag, looked inside to see what all was in it (she had a vague idea, but was honestly curious at what things of hers John had accumulated over the years they’d been together), and headed back to the door. Right before she walked through the door, though, Tamara suddenly realized she was alone with a woman—no, a girl—for the first time in a month. She’d made it a point to avoid being alone with one because of what had happened that last time with Anita... and what might have happened if she hadn’t come to her senses when she did. She still couldn’t help thinking about either Anita or Wendy (or both) when she touched herself to ease her steadily increasing libido.
Yes, you’re horny... very horny... just walk out the door and leave... walk out the door... the door... all alone, I have time for a quickie... no, leave the girl alone... we are alone... don’t do it... don’t... she’s just a kid, leave her alone! You can get off when you get home... just... go... you’ve never even been all the way with a girl... stop...
Tamara walked past Emily to the door of the bedroom, and then closed and locked it.
Still facing away from the door, a suddenly nervous but still slightly aroused Emily asked sheepishly, “why did you do... oooooooooh, that... mmmmmmm....” Her head fell back and to the side as her question was cut off by a swift and precise kiss to her neck. When the mouth moved to her earlobe and gently nibbled it, Emily felt her hands and legs begin to shake.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” Tamara whispered into Emily’s ear. “Just relax, go with it....” She used her hands to support the trembling Emily, who melted into Tamara’s embrace.
“Yessssss...,” Emily trailed off as she felt Tamara’s hands roam her body, building her need and heating up her pussy. Emily was not experienced with any kind of sex, but she had been kissing since she was 15. Too far gone to care that she was being kissed by a girl, Emily moved her head so that she could press her lips against Tamara’s. Their mouths opened almost simultaneously, and their tongues met and danced. Emily’s eyes opened briefly when Tamara grabbed her breasts, and they rolled up and closed when she felt one hand sneak down to her backside.
Tamara grabbed Emily’s ass and squeezed firmly, surprising the teenager a little and making her force her tongue into a frenzy of action in Tamara’s mouth. Tamara sensed, though, that if she didn’t cut this short, Emily might just fall to the floor; her legs were trembling and Tamara realized that she was supporting the girl with her hands.
Hey, get out of here now! You’re making out with your ex’s sister!!
Startled at the sudden return of her conscious, Tamara pulled back from the kiss and took a long look at Emily, who was wobbling dizzily with her eyes still closed and her tongue slowly licking her lips. Not wanting to get caught playing with her ex–boyfriend’s sister in their house, she leaned in and whispered goodbye to Emily, hoping to make a hasty exit.
But it was not to be. She licked Emily’s ear—sliding the tip of her tongue into Emily’s ear for just an instant. Emily moaned and sank to her knees, kneading her breasts in obvious need. But Tamara regained her self–control just in time and unlocked the door, ran out of the room, went to her car, and drove to her parent’s house.
A combination of guilt and giddiness played on Tamara as she drove. Guilt, for knowingly playing with and even making out with Emily; and giddiness, for actually enjoying apparent control she had over the young woman.
But behind all that was confusion.
What’s wrong with me! I’m not even like that with boys!! she thought over and over again while the scene at her ex–boyfriend’s house played over and over in her mind. As she neared her family’s home, though, she forced herself to think about her family. Soon, the event was filed away neatly in the back of her mind, and she enjoyed the remainder of her visit free of Sapphic activities and inner debates. The rest of the holiday went along as all the others before it had.
After getting back to school, she got another call from Jeff—and she found herself excited and hoping that there would be another shoot in the works.
“So, how are ya doin’, kid?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“Good. Listen, I have another shoot lined up, and we need a girl like you in it. It does have another woman in it, just like the last one. But, there’s one little detail you need to know about before you agree to do it.”
“Yes?” Tamara asked, excited at the possibility of working with Wendy—or some other hot model—again. Instantly chalking that desire up to just wanting to work as a model again, she thought, I would love to do that again... I bet I could really get into it. All models have to do this at some point. Nothing sexual at all, just some extra money. She then realized that she’d been daydreaming and not listening to Jeff.
“... and again, your body shape is what we’re looking for. I just reviewed the last set of photos and we’d like it if you could trim your hair down a few inches or so, but other than that, you’re perfect for this project. It’s for an underwear catalogue in Europe,” he continued.
“It’s not distributed in America, but... uh, well, I’ll just come out and tell you: the work requires some topless photos, as some of the lingerie won’t cover your breasts completely. It pays quite well,” he quickly added, “to the tune of $2000 for another four hours of work. But, like I said, it is topless. I will completely understand if you aren’t interested....”
“Well, you might remember that I’m not too top heavy...” Tamara said, stalling. She was awash in feelings of fear, nervousness, and intense arousal mixed with anticipation.
“You’re not completely flat, right?” he asked, in a way that Tamara almost thought suggested he knew the answer.
Tamara knew such a comment should bother her, but for some reason, it didn’t. “No, I wear a B cup. Not big, but not flat.”
“Well, we’re looking for women with small and large busts. The company likes diversity.”
“Well, my hair has been... uh, well,” she said, trying to avoid saying some thing like “it’s falling out” but wanting to let him know that her hair was easily eight inches shorter than he remembered. “... It’s not as long as it was, and I’m seeing some dark streaks here and there, which is weird because I’m a natural blonde... I mean, would...” she began to ask, nervous suddenly that she would not be pretty enough for the other model or the company, and trying to find a way to describe what was happening to her hair.
“Tammy, you’ll be perfect. Like I said, we want you to trim your hair. If it’s already shorter, then it’s probably OK. You’re hair is still about... what, somewhere between your shoulders and the middle of your back, right?”
Surprised at such a good guess—her hair was long enough to reach exactly halfway between her shoulders and the middle of her back—she lightened and replied, “Yes, it is.”
“Good. If you can meet us Thursday the 16th at 8 AM sharp, same place as last time, that’ll be great. Do you still have the address?”
“Well, I do... but I haven’t said ‘Yes’ yet.”
“Well, do you want the job or not?”
“Of course I want it,” she said, giggling. “See you Thursday!”
As she hung up the phone, Anita walked into the apartment. “Hey Tammy! How’s the family?”
“Oh, fine,” Tamara said, walking up to her friend to give her a “welcome back!” hug. Anita returned the hug for a few moments, having genuinely missed her roommate. That one night a month ago notwithstanding, they had become the best of friends.
With a gleam of mischievousness in her eye, Tamara turned her head slightly and said in a clear, low voice, “Well, I’m tired and I’m going to go take a nap.” And, she “accidentally” licked her earlobe.
Anita’s trembling was barely noticeable, but anyone looking would have seen her eyes flutter and shut for a few seconds. Tamara left her like there, taking one look back before heading to her room to take a nap. She sure looks ripe for the picking, Tamara thought. After watching Anita’s eyes open, she sauntered to her bedroom, wiggling her hips as she walked just in case Anita was watching.
She didn’t even question her seductive actions towards the woman who was her roommate and friend. And when she did finally realize how oddly she’d been acting, she was more than a little alarmed that it took so long to register as unusual. Even then, she just figured she was having fun with this weird effect she was having on the women.
Lying on her bed, she thought about the upcoming photo session. I can’t wait till Thursday, she thought as she played her body like a finely tuned instrument, enjoying the morning the best way she could. A couple of orgasms later, she pulled her slick hands from her cunny and got up to take her morning shower.
She didn’t even notice that she had not even tried to think of John, Jeff, or any other man while she played with herself.
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