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Message-ID: <30647asstr$991797003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Nikki Armstrong" <nikki_a262@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Vermont lioness (FF)
Date: Tue,  5 Jun 2001 23:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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I started at a liberal arts college in Vermont when I was eighteen, thirteen 
years ago now, which is pretty scary. I'd had a fairly quiet, unadventurous, 
childhood, don't know why, but a lot of stuff had sort of passed me by. I 
think my parents were pretty strict, and I listened to them, so maybe I 
missed out on things other people got up to as teenagers.

Anyway, going to college was my first time away from home, and I guess I'd 
been promising I was going to make up for lost time. And did I. Not to be 
rude, but a lot of the girls at college were, well, the studious earnest 
type. Didn't mean they had to be ugly, but I think glasses, bad hair, bad 
clothes, put a lot of boys off. Course a lot of the boys were pretty much 
the same, but that didn't matter to me.

I lost my virginity ten days after arriving, it was pretty disappointing, I 
think because my partner (I have no idea of his name) was almost as 
inexperienced as me. It could of put me off, but it didn't. I thought there 
must be more to it than this, and I was determined to find it.

"Finding it" wasn't too hard. I'm not the most beautiful woman in the world, 
but I reckon I'm a B+ or A-. A little short, perhaps, but long, straight 
straw blonde hair, and the kind of tits that, I've found, men go wild about. 
Not big, but pert. A little in your face, I guess. Funny thing was, back 
home I'd known I was pretty, but hadn't found out what to do about it.

Half way through the first semester I was up to speed, you might say. Don't 
say too much, smile a little, and sooner or later a guy is going to make his 
way up to you. If he doesn't appeal, ignore him. If he does, a few more 
smiles and he'll get the right idea. And, a little later, when they find you 
do put out, they're in heaven. They worship you. Which is a shame, because I 
was going for quantity, not quality.

Two things in particular appealed, I remember. Getting down to necking with 
a guy, he's maybe been feeling my tits for a while, outside my top, I bend 
down, unbutton his jeans, pull his dick out. The effect is, truly, awesome. 
So awesome that, sadly, within thirty seconds or so of using my mouth, I've 
got his come shooting down my throat. A great, powerful, moment, yes, but a 
little longer would have been nicer.

For those I wanted to hang around for more, I used to love being fucked from 
behind. In my pussy, mind, but kneeling on all fours, my ass spread wide, 
feeling his cock jamming into my cunt. I could have stayed like that for 
hours, feeling so dirty and used. I'd ask them to maul my tits, which they'd 
do in a kinda half-hearted way, never the sort of violent tugging that I 
really wanted. That would have been heaven - fast furious penetration from 
behind, my tits being tortured in front. Never happened, not the way I 
wanted it.

What I didn't know then, was boys my age just weren't up to much. Too 
immature. Bad lovers, in fact, every one of them, which given the law of 
averages was pretty disappointing. What I'd never expected was it would be a 
woman who'd point this out to me.

I can't really remember what I'd thought about women before I met Sara. I 
think that, once in a while, I'd maybe got a little bit hot, maybe seeing a 
nice pair of tits or a pert butt. Maybe, once in a while, had a little 
diddle imagining what it would be like to play with those tits, fondle that 
ass. But I can't really remember, because Sara, as you're about to find out, 
changed everything.

She was a coupla years senior to me, but I think from pretty early on I'd 
been aware of her existence. She had that kind of existence. She was tall, 
slim, with shortish blonde hair. In a boyish cut, which should have given me 
some clues, but she was still feminine. I can say this categorically, 
because she had men falling over her, tho' she gave them the same disdain 
she offered most of the human race. Icy isn't quite the right word, because 
there was nothing cold about her. Just a lack of interest in all those 
around her. Maybe it was just supreme confidence.

Another thing that was unusual about Sara was she was really into sports. 
God knows how she ended up at our college. Most time you'd see her around 
she'd be in some kind of sports gear, some times jogging pants, but unless 
it was real cold she preferred shorts. That way you got to see her legs, all 
fifteen feet of them, firm, muscled, taut, perfect. You could worship those 
legs, like Indians worshipped the stupa phalluses. (Yep I was studying South 
Asian anthropology). She was a little light up top, but that didn't matter, 
because she was a magnificent athletic creature, the lioness of our campus.

Now I didn't play sports, really, but I was pretty good at tennis. (Safe 
sport, my parents had thought, if only they'd known what it was going to 
lead me into).
Come the summer I thought I'd give the college competition a go. Made it 
through to the third round (the competition was pretty pitiful) then, shit, 
I was drawn against Sara.

I don't think I'd ever felt so nervous, beginning a game. Sure, part of it 
was she was the best, fittest, sportswoman on campus, end of story. But it 
was more than that. Standing the other side of the net, trim blue shorts, 
white vest t-shirt, those goddam legs, she was too perfect a specimen of 
Human - Female for me to stand a chance against. She won 6-1 6-0. It would 
have been a fairer contest if I hadn't turned up.

We shook hands, and she looked me coolly in the eye. So far as I knew, it 
was the first time Sara had ever treated me as a human being. I trembled.

"You're good," she said. I'd never heard her speak before. She had a 
delicious southern drawl.

I laughed nervously. That was good? "You're awesome," I said, then felt so 
stupid as I realized what I said. I can laugh even now, remembering my first 
words to her. I was right, `tho.

She just smiled. Again, I melted - Sara had smiled at me. "Let's go get 
showered." For the third time in as many seconds my body shook, but this 
time there was a different element. Me, and Sara, in the shower. Naked. She 
was inviting me. Of course it was what she had to say, but it still gave me 
a shock. And a thrill.

I nodded. It was a long walk back to the changing room.

The changing room was small (like I say, there wasn't much call for sports 
facilities) so Sara and I were forced into a degree of intimacy. She chatted 
away pleasantly, but I was reduced to nodding a few grunts of agreement. I 
was surprised how friendly she was being - I'd always thought she didn't 
have time for anyone.

Part of me was dying to watch this beautiful creature undress, but there 
were way too many mental inhibitions to let that happen, so I concentrated 
on looking at my gym bag. From the corner of my eye, tho', I could see she 
was facing me, and in that indistinct peripheral vision I could see the 
white of her t-shirt turn to flesh, the blue of her shorts turn to the white 
of knickers, then flesh, and I knew that Sara was standing naked next to me. 
That is the point, I'm sure, when I actually got wet for the first time.

Once she had turned towards the shower room, I picked up my towel to follow 
her. She had her back to me, and all I could think was "shit - the girl's 
ass is perfect too". Most of her body was lightly tanned, but her butt 
cheeks were creamy pale, in stark contrast to the dark slash of her ass 
crack. It was a view that most of the boys on campus would have paid dearly 
to see. Fuck them, I thought, it's doing quite a lot for me.

The way she walked away from me was a wonder. Loose, easy, controlled, but 
there was such power and energy in her movements. As if she could do 
anything her body wanted.

There were no cubicles in the shower room, just three shower heads. As I 
walked in she was standing there, waiting for me, facing me. I couldn't help 
but glance down, check out the fact she had a sparse blonde thatch. At the 
same time, I saw her check me out. For the record, I'm mid to dark brown. 
It's not exactly "normal" behavior, but I'm sure we weren't the first 
blondes to be curious about other women's pubic hair.

Sara was standing by the center head, so I had no choice but to stand 
directly next to her. Sure it felt strange, but I wasn't ready to jump to 
any conclusions.

As we stood there, soaping ourselves, I still didn't dare make eye contact, 
so I concentrated on the water temperature controller, something I've always 
understood is the polite thing to do. Sara had no such worries, and I can 
still feel the burn of her eyes on my body. At the time, I know my knees 
were weak with nerves.

It was as we were drying that she returned to the subject of tennis. "You're 
really good," she said. I laughed. "You are," she repeated. "Be my doubles 
partner." I almost fell over. Sara wanted to play doubles with me. I 
couldn't reply. "Meet me in the Long Bar tonight," she said. "Eight thirty. 
We'll talk about it."

***

Back in my room, on my own, there was a part of me that wanted to celebrate 
my afternoon with a long session of masturbation. Back home I'd been an epic 
masturbator, but since I'd found boys I hadn't bothered that much. Now, the 
thought of Sara's white butt, her blonde thatch, hell the thought that she 
wanted to play tennis with me, had my pussy aching. Nothing better than a 
quick diddle before I met up with her. But something held me back. It wasn't 
right. She was a woman, and now, almost, a friend. How would I feel, sitting 
next to her in a bar, knowing that only hours before, my fingers had been 
deep inside my cunt while my mind imagined her body?

In retrospect, it was a mistake, or at least, it backfired on me badly, 
because as it was I turned up at the Long Bar still feeling horny as hell.

***

We were the queens of the Long Bar. No doubt about it. I mean, it wasn't 
often you got two good-looking blonde chicks on their own in there. It was a 
pretty trendy place, certainly for Vermont in 1988, but even so. The guys 
kept coming, but Sara just gave them a look, and off they went, tail between 
their legs. It was like an arcade game.

If I'm honest, I don't think I enjoyed our chat that much. It was mostly 
Sara talking, and I can't for the life of me think what about. I was really 
just transfixed, awestruck, amazed that this amazon was paying me so much 
attention.

We drank steadily, not going crazy or anything, till by ten thirty I was at 
that level of inebriation I'd describe as perfect. So I was a bit bummed 
when Sara suddenly announced "I'm off. Early training tomorrow." It was 
extraordinary. I felt deserted, abandoned. I'd been basking in her attention 
and now, suddenly, unexpectedly, it was being withdrawn. Had I said or done 
something wrong?

"Do you fancy one more drink?" I asked. I remember it took all my courage.

Sara smiled. "I've got some good scotch back in my room. Fancy a dram?" I'd 
been planning another beer, but an invitation to the goddess's room, that 
was a real honor. Little Red Riding Hood was walking right into the wolf's 
trap.

"Sure."

***

Sara's room, and this was a detail I did think curious at the time, was 
covered in posters of women sporting stars. Chris Evett, Flo-Jo, they were 
all there. Not surprising, in a way, but I'd never seen anything like it. 
The signs were, of course, leaping out at me in letters three feet tall, but 
I'd spent my time with boys, and this was something my radar wasn't, yet, 
designed to pick up.

Sara poured me a large scotch, a Glendfiddich, I remember. (It's funny the 
little details that come up). Her portion, I noticed, was a lot less 
generous.

"You seem to have enjoyed your first year here Nikki," Sara said.

I nodded. The conversation was still pretty one way.

"And I've noticed you seem to get on pretty well with the boys." I was so 
pleased she'd "noticed" me before that I ignored the possible barb to her 
comment.

"Can't say I blame them, tho'. You're a beautiful girl, Nikki. You've got a 
lovely body. Lovely tits." It was, of course, an extraordinary compliment, 
but rather than think about what lay behind it, my nipples perked up at the 
attention. I could feel my whole body flush with interest and excitement.

I wanted to draw attention from the way my nipples were poking at my 
t-shirt. "How about you, Sara? They seem to like you more."

She looked me directly in the eye. I couldn't look back. "I'm with the boys 
on this one, Nikki." She sounded very serious. "Looked at neutrally, taking 
a dispassionate view, choosing between the boys with their spots and their 
hormones, and your beauty, Nikki, there's no choice at all."

It felt amazing as she said it. Again, the consequences disappeared under 
the thrill of being wanted by Sara. Looking back, I honestly think that that 
was all that was in my mind. I don't think it occurred to me for one minute 
that Sara, tall, lean, beautiful, athletic Sara, had any intention of doing 
anything about her admiration. I had no idea that I was only seconds away 
from finding out exactly how she felt as I basked in the warm, alcoholically 
influenced glow of her attention.

She reached across, smoothly, and gently stroked the forefingers of her 
right hand over my right tit. I didn't even jump, just enjoyed the 
sensation. The transition was made, and I didn't even notice it.

Sara continued to stroke me, feeling my nipple harden under touch. I think 
she maybe wanted to say something, but  didn't want to interrupt my 
acquiescence. She started to move her right hand down over my belly, and her 
left hand moved over to stroke my left breast. I wasn't even looking at her, 
just enjoying being gently fondled by this beautiful woman.

I knew where her right hand was heading. I thought "fuck it, let her". There 
wasn't even a question, I wanted her fingers pressing against the cotton of 
my crotch, feeling the wetness, rubbing over the contours of my lips, 
touching my sex.

I think I was wearing a short black skirt, whatever, it was quickly tugged 
up so that the whiteness of my panties was exposed to Sara's view. It's 
funny, but at no time did she even try to kiss me. There was something more 
distant, more detached about our coupling.

Then she was doing it, doing what I wanted, rubbing her forefingers over the 
thin material, feeling the way my juices had soaked through. She wasn't 
gentle, but the sensation on my sex was exquisite.

I was faintly aware I hadn't done anything to or for Sara yet. Should I kiss 
her, play with her tits? I decided if she wanted something, she'd ask for 
it, and relaxed back.

Soon the fore and middle finger of Sara's right hand were exploring under 
the crotch of my panties, sliding up and down the slickness of my slit. 
Then, with no warning, she slid them both up into my cunt. It was funny, 
given that this was my first lesbian encounter, that the action was typical 
of an inexperienced boy, desperate to get a finger up. That said, I enjoyed 
the way she was using me. I wanted to be mauled by this woman.

I was getting a little bit of my own courage up. I reached across to run my 
fingers over Sara's little tits, but she brushed me away. She wanted things 
her own way, and that was okay by me. A damn sight better than being 
expected to service a man on demand, anyway.

We were sitting on a sofa, and I'd gradually been slipping down so I was 
lying on it lengthways, with my left hand side to the sofa's back. Sara 
completed my move by swinging my hips round so I was lying on my back. In 
doing so she brought her face down so it was close to the crotch of my 
panties. Then, still keeping two fingers working inside my cunt, she eased 
my panties down my legs till they were hanging off my left ankle. I remember 
trying to get them to drop off, then thinking fuck it, what's the point.

I was wearing my skirt, but that was round my waist, so to all intents and 
purposes I was naked from the waist down, with Sara's beautiful face 
hovering inches above my exposed sex. It was a delicious feeling, but even 
more so when she pulled her fingers out of my cunt, and lifted my legs up 
and back, until my knees were pressed against my tits. I was completely 
vulnerable, open to whatever she wanted to do.

What she did, and what I hadn't expected, was press the two fingers that had 
been inside my pussy against my asshole. Anal sex was an unknown world for 
me - one guy had rubbed his cock against my butt, and eventually I'd let him 
bring himself off between my cheeks, but that was it.

With Sara, I felt slightly concerned about my hygienic condition, and also 
worried about whether she would hurt me. (In fact, I think I'd always 
thought of anal sex as dicks in butts. I'm not sure I'd ever considered the 
possibility of fingers in there, let alone the long slim fingers of a 
beautiful lady like Sara).

"Relax honey," she said. In the midst of all the excitement, it was good to 
hear that smooth southern voice. "This may hurt a bit, but it'll make you 
feel divine." Then I felt her fingers pressing against my asshole. Almost 
automatically, my body tensed up, unwilling to tolerate an invasion. 
"Relax," she whispered, and I could feel her breath on my clit. She rubbed 
her fingers around my asshole, a strangely relaxing sensation, a little like 
tickling an itch. I decided to enjoy the nastiness of what she was doing, so 
when, again, she pressed her two fingers against my hole, I held my breath, 
ready to admit her into my ass.

It was damn painful, to start with. Everything screamed that this was wrong, 
that what was happening to that part of the body wasn't meant to, that, if 
you like, the movement was going the wrong way. My eyes almost filled with 
tears, and I thought why the fuck does anyone ever have anal sex? Then, when 
the initial penetration was over, and the tips of her fingers were in my 
ass, the sensation changed. It was incredible. I can only describe it as 
like wanting to sneeze, a delicious discomfort that kept my nerves on a 
razor's edge of anticipation. As she'd said - divine.

My pleasure was increased by the attention of the fingers on Sara's left 
hand, running up and around the inside of my lips. She still hadn't touched 
or licked my clit, which was throbbing with need.

What she did next was a real testament to the suppleness of her body. She'd 
basically been kneeling on the floor next to the lower half of my body. 
Without taking her fingers out of my ass or away from my cunt she climbed 
over my body so her knees were either side of my tits, and we were in a 
sixty-nine. My legs were still pressed right back against my chest, and I 
felt thoroughly pinned, although she lifted her legs one at a time to free 
my arms. I soon found out why.

"Lift my skirt up," she said. Her skirt was short, and it didn't take much 
to slide it up to her waist. At the same time, I noticed she was building up 
a rhythm in my ass, sliding her fingers in and out regularly. From having 
hated anal sex, I know found I was loving it.

At the same time, my eyes were filled with the feast before them. Those long 
slim legs, with their sculpted outline of her muscles, leading up to the 
pure whiteness of her panties.

Having been brushed off once, I wasn't sure if I should touch Sara, but 
decided I could probably get away with feeling the glorious smoothness of 
her thighs. Sure enough she didn't object, but she did lower herself down 
until her crotch was about five inches above my head. For the first time I 
could smell her. I'd have to say it was a strong musk, but totally 
intoxicating, I guess a mixture of sweat and pee and her honey.

I was getting used to the position, still enjoying what Sara was doing to my 
butt and puss, when she said, so slowly, "I'm going to go a little, hon, is 
that okay?" Those were the exact words, I can remember. And I didn't have a 
clue what she meant. I didn't reply. After a few seconds, she repeated "Hon, 
is that alright?"

I don't even think I was trying to work it out. I wasn't really in a 
position to argue, so I nodded, and then, realizing that of course she 
couldn't see that, I muttered "uh-huh".

All my view was Sara's panties, and I didn't even get it when I saw a little 
stain of moisture appear on the crotch. Hey, that's what horny women are 
meant to look like, and I probably felt a moment's pleasure I'd got her so 
wet. But the patch grew, and I could see a little droplet appearing on the 
outside of the material. Even that didn't entirely tell me what was 
happening, but then I picked up that unique, salty tangy perfume. Sara was 
peeing herself! And on me, too.

I tried to move my head out of the way, but there was nowhere for me to go, 
and as I moved around I could feel Sara tighten the position of her thighs 
around me. She wanted me underneath. For a long time, the droplet stayed 
there, the wet patch just growing around it, but then it swiftly grew and 
splashed down onto my neck.

My first reaction was thank god, maybe she won't get my face, the second, 
get this, was oh my god this is a Donna Karan t-shirt. (I was still fully 
dressed top-half, remember).

Both my fears were realized. Sara let out a low groan, almost animal, and 
then the patch turned into a trickle, into a stream, into a jet. All I could 
do was keep my mouth tight closed, and my head as far back as the sofa would 
allow, but it was no good, and I felt the hot liquid splashing over my chin, 
my lips, my nose, in fact drenching the whole of my face.

I guess she was peeing for maybe ten, fifteen seconds, and in one of those 
bizarre thoughts that crop up at inopportune times, I thought this was going 
to make one hell of a mess of her sofa.

When she'd finished I felt her body relax, and then I heard her say, and 
again these are her exact words, "Lady, you just got so wet".

It was true. At no point had I felt disgusted. Shocked, certainly, probably 
horrified, but there was a certain intense beauty about seeing the pure 
whiteness of her underwear stained yellow by her pee. And as I felt the 
stingy saltiness of her pee on my lips, I thought "I'm tasting her pee. I'm 
tasting the goddess's pee." Oh so tentatively I ran my tongue between my 
lips. Not an unpleasant taste, but definitely a horny thought.

"Go for me too, honey," Sara said. "I'm right on you." It was true, I could 
feel her breath on my sex.

It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. For starters she was 
still busy fucking my asshole with her fingers, and I think there's 
something incompatible about that and peeing. And also, with my body so 
tensed up, the last thing I could do was let go. But I wanted too. I wanted 
to feel my water pouring on that beautiful face.

I kept straining, but then I heard Sara whisper "Go on me honey." It was too 
much, and starting with a trickle, I felt myself peeing, letting go, and 
then it turned into a full flood, and I knew it was splashing all over my 
lover's face.

My stream seemed to last for hours, but eventually I too was finished. 
Again, I felt both our bodies relax. I hadn't come yet, but it felt like our 
love-making had moved onto a higher plane.

I felt Sara's fingers come out of my ass, and then she turned, facing me. I 
have to say, her face was one of the most erotic sights I've ever seen. Not 
only were there droplets all over her, but that short, boyish blonde hair 
was matted back onto her head with my water. I'd once seen a picture of a 
swimmer, head and shoulders out of the pool, moisture on her face, and 
thought that she looked pretty hot. Sara, soaked with my pee, looked way 
hotter still.

But she hadn't finished with me. She held two fingers out between us, the 
same two that seconds before had been up my ass. "I'm sorry, honey," she 
said, "but there's something about you that just makes me want to deprave 
and corrupt." She held the fingers under her nose, that beautiful girl, 
smelling my dirt. Then she rubbed her fore finger along her lips, before 
poking it inside her mouth and sucking on it.

This time it was disgusting, but that was what I wanted. There was something 
about Sara's tough beauty and the sheer sordidness of the sex she enjoyed 
that was becoming sexually irresistible.

She pulled the finger our, slowly, lingering on it with her tongue.

"One for me," she said, then, proffering the middle finger to me, "one for 
you." She rested it under my nose, then delicately rubbed the tip of her 
finger around my nostrils. In all honesty I'm not sure I could smell my 
shit, but the knowledge of where it had been was enough to have me aching. I 
stuck out my tongue.

"Good girl," she said, and then I was sucking it, sucking Sara's finger 
after she'd pulled it out of my ass.

Maybe I'd passed a test, because then the finger was out and her face was 
upon me, and we were kissing, desperately, frantically. Of course both of us 
were still wet with each other's pee, but the knowledge was perfection.

I felt her fingers, at last, touch my clit, and I slid my hand inside the 
soaking material of her panties. (I still find wet cotton, particularly hot 
wet cotton, one of the most exciting sensations I know). It didn't take 
long, our faces mashed against each other, to start our climaxes.

Surprisingly, Sara began first, thrashing against my hand so hard my fingers 
hurt. It was amazing to think I'd brought this beautiful perverted girl to a 
climax, and I felt my own come begin, a powerful spasm that started in my 
cunt and sent hot blood rushing through my veins. I bucked and twitched as 
my whole body melted in erotic excitement.

We lay there, still. Looking back, it's perhaps surprising that with damp 
pee all around us, I didn't feel disgusted, horrified. I didn't. In fact I 
felt extraordinarily satisfied, content, and even a little smug.

As you can imagine, that wasn't the end of my relationship with Sara. Or 
even the most perverted stuff we got up to. But eventually we went our own 
ways.

I'm married now, with three children. I have a good sex life, but my husband 
and I have never even broached the subject of wet games. Which is good, 
because, there are some things best kept for when you're young. And foolish.

If you've enjoyed reading about my story, then please let me know.

Nikki Armstrong.

_________________________________________________________________________
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