## Archive-name: good-friends

From: sgordon@svpal.svpal.org (Steven Gordon)

Subject: Good Friends (f/f)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

This story contains SEX! If you don't like it, don't read it!

Good Friends

I looked at her studying on my bed, from my place at my desk. Every week she came over, sometimes more often. I thought it was a ruse to get to flirt but I wasn't going to bring it out into the open. It was more enjoyable to just enjoy her company and conversation as she gave it. We had been friends for over two years. This past year we had gotten much closer, each of us telling the other things we had never told friends before. Since a few months ago, the teasing we often used with each other had become more and more sexual. I wasn't sure what to think, as she smiled and touched my arm while she flirted. It was always in front of others, in public, so it was safe for her.

Watching her bent over her book, reading so intently she didn't notice me staring, I wondered how she really felt. I had been having dreams lately that I woke from disturbed and excited...

Just last night I had dreamed I was dancing with a woman, dressed in heels, skirt, blouse, and surreally, a black feather boa. We had circled each other, gradually moving closer, then she was pulling me to her. I pressed my hips against hers, as she pushed me back upon the couch behind me. I sat abruptly, and she moved between my legs, rubbing against me, still kissing me deeply. Dazed, I moved my left leg behind her, difficult because of the skirt I wore. It slipped up my thighs and she ran her hands up to my bare hips, grinding herself against me. I felt myself getting wet, warmth flowing inside me. Our mouths opened further, I moaned as she slipped her hand into me, her tongue sliding into my mouth as sensually as her fingers touched me. Then I was awake, confused and more than a little alarmed. I remembered her dark curly long hair, piled on top of her head, soft spiralled curls floating down over her ears, and blushed lips.

I whispered, gay? Me? At the least, the thought of sex with a woman excited me, or my subconscious. The more I thought about it, sitting in that dimly lit room, with the Christmas lights glowing at the steamy window, I realized I relished the idea.

I got up, throwing the sheets aside, and went to the window. I leaned my forehead against the window, watching my breath condense on the icy glass. Looking at the white birches far below, I shivered. They swayed back and forth like dancers to a beat I couldn't hear, beckoning to me. I opened the window, letting in the freezing air. The breeze carried in the scent of wet earth and snow and old leaves, whipping the papers scattered on my desk around. The hills were almost black in the distance, distinquished from the sky that was full of brilliant stars shining above. I stared out the window, losing myself in the cold breeze that blew over my flushed skin. After becoming aware that I was shivering, I leaned out and drew the window handle to me, shutting it.

Getting back into bed, I felt a wetness between my thighs, and reached down to see what it was. My hand came back glistening clearly in the soft colored light. I lifted one finger to my lips and tasted it. With the residue of salt on my lips, I leaned back and shut my eyes. What would another woman taste like? I wondered. I imagined putting my hands on soft breasts, nipples asking to be mouthed, then stroking down along a rounded stomach, beside the dimple of the navel... Into the curve between strong thighs, my fingers surrounded by curling dark hair, into a familiar yet strange wetness and warmth, a body breathing and arching under my gestures. As my mind drew me into this imaginary experience, I let my own hand pull up my nightgown, bunching up the fabric above my breasts to reveal my arousement.

The coolness of my searching fingers made my nipples darker, harder. I felt the echo of the swelling I summoned deeper inside and drew in a small shallow breath. In my mind, I moved down further on the bed, my lips tracing the curves of the anonymous woman beneath me. I didn't see her face, only the light breaking over her body, the shadows as mysterious as her sex. I caressed her body, feeling the ladder of ribs under her taut fair skin, their rising and falling increasing with my attention. I bent my mouth to the intersection of her, my hands smoothing over her thighs, lowering to taste her as she let her thighs drift apart. I looked surreptiously at the rose-colored folds and the glistening hair above them, sliding her open further with my hands, to see the wetness gathered there.

Her scent reminded me of musk and vaguely of the sea. I tasted it on my tongue, feeling my own body respond to her low moans. I brought her smooth calves above my shoulders, and let her responses guide my movements. Under my lips, I felt her fervered skin tremble, her legs shudder in my arms. Her head was thrown back, her breath coming in gasps. She had thrown her arms back behind her, and was grasping the bedframe, quivering up and crying out more and more. I savored her movements and taste, each moan bringing me intense enjoyment. In my own bed, I bit down on my bottom lip to choke back my loud groan of release, corresponding to her orgasm in my imagination. My eyes squeezed closed, then I opened them with a sigh, relaxing again into the warmth of the covers. Sleep came quickly, and I dreamed of things and people that disappeared from my mind as I woke the next morning, but left me with a sense of unfulfilled desire. I didn't remember any more scenes with the dark-haired woman.

I went through classes as usual, but in the back of my mind was a new undercurrent that rose up every so often to remind me of my leanings. I passed women on the way to lecture halls who returned my gaze, and in their eyes I saw they knew it was not out of friendliness that I looked at them, and that the curiousity was returned. Walking around campus was now filled with sly glances and blushes, not all mine. I smiled thinking about it, pretending I was listening to a lecture about linguistics. The professor misinterpreted my small smile and half closed eyes, and looked at me bewildered but with his own smile. This amused me more. My smile got bigger. Classes went on and on, and now I was looking at my study partner in my room.

She flipped a page in her thick hardcover book, mulling over the literature of the 1800's. I reached behind my stereo to pull out a cassette, and inserted it into the machine. Pressing "Play", I knew the music would disturb her and knew also that was why I was doing it. I wanted to talk. As the first notes started up, she looked up from reading questioningly. I smiled and asked "Do you mind taking a study break for a few minutes? My notes are starting to look like secret code."

"No, no I don't mind at all. You have any soda left? My throat is killing me from that cigerrette."

"Yeah, coke or ginger ale. Which do you like?" I bent to open the fridge, waiting for her reply.

"Ginger ale."

I picked out the plastic bottle and poured some into a mug. The foam crept over the side, I dipped my finger to it and wiped it off, and absentmindedly sucked the liquid off my finger. I looked up to see her looking at me oddly. Actually oddly was not quite the right word. It seemed more like a realization surfacing. Of what I wasn't sure. I got up from the chair and handed the cup to her, turning it so she could grab the handle. Instead of taking it that way though, she let her hand slip over mine. I stood there by the bed, holding this cup, unsure of what exactly to do next. I smiled nervously, my tongue moistening my lips. She let her hand linger a moment longer, enough so I was now painfully aware of her body heat and the subtle softness of her fingertips pressing into my hand. She took the mug and took a sip, keeping her eyes on my face. I didn't sit back down immediately but paused, watching her. As her tongue darted out and licked the rim, curving around the edge, I realized the rather unpleasant sensation of my heart racing, and my palms getting moist. Oh God, I was so unsure. Maybe it was just my deranged mind that was misinterpreting her actions, I didn't want to make an absolute fool of myself and lose her friendship. She held my eye, and licked her lips, mimicking me. She stretched her arm out and put the cup down on my desk, then rearranged her body on the bed, so she was sitting there cross-legged, hands under her chin.

"Why don't you sit on the bed? Standing there doesn't look too comfortable."

Unthinking, I climbed up on my own bed, and sat next to her. She kept her body angled away, then reached out again, this time to grab her book and open it back up to where she had stopped. Her hair fell forward, hiding her profile. I looked at her sitting there, at her bright hair flowing over her shoulders, revealing the pale skin at the back of her neck, and the hem of her shirt, that curved down closely over her torso. Before I could think about what I was doing, I had leaned forward and reached up to turn her face to mine and was kissing her deeply. Inwardly shocked at myself, I reached down and pushed her book away. She didn't protest, but instead pulled me closer. Her mouth, tongue, smell, hair, breasts, were all I knew. My hands were under her shirt, pulling it up, over her head, tousling her glossy hair. She lifted her arms to the ceiling as I unclasped her bra, stroking the topography of her back as I did so. The lace and nylon bit was thrown to the floor along with her shirt, and soon the rest of her clothes were there too.

Her lips turned up into a secretive smile, looking at me, sitting on the blanket casually, her legs open.

"So, do you like what you see?" she whispered, then leaned to me.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was naked too. She embraced me, and lowered me to the bed. We lay side by side, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies down the edges of our hips and ribs. My hand trailed over her ribs, into the valley of her waist, then up over her hip, down her thigh. At my touch, she turned to face me and opened her legs, letting one dangle over the edge of the mattress.

She was as excited as I was, I soon discovered. I held my breath as I touched her, gingerly pushing a finger into her, letting the heat and moisture take me in. I put in another, and stroked her rhythmically, watching her rock back and forth against my hand. Something was warming in me, I felt myself loosening up. I bent over her prostrate body to take in a nipple. I took it into my mouth, sucking it gently then harder, increasing the pressure to a light bite that she shivered at, letting out a quiet drawn out "yes". I sucked at her like a baby, feeling her getting harder between my lips. I moved my hand out, slick with her wetness, caressing her lips, up to her center, then down again, then up, liberally covering her. I let my fingers slide to the top of the folds, and frigged the nub lightly.

She shuddered hard and pushed down towards me. She had spread herself out fully on the bed, her mouth opening to draw in breath then close into a tight line to suppress moans. Her cheeks were flushed pink, heightening the whiteness of the rest of her face. I pushed myself lower over her, then pulled her legs apart, holding a calf in each hand, feeling the muscles in them tense as I sucked her. She had abandoned all pretense at modesty, and was now moaning openly. I loved the sound. She pushed herself up against me, trying to get me to give in to her demand for instant sastifaction. I felt myself sliding down towards the end of the bed, along with the quilt and blanket. Regaining my position, I forced her back up, and paused to smile at her. Frustrated, she growled and said sternly "I wouldn't start a job then leave it unfinished if I were you."

I laughed, and responded by nipping her. She squealed, then quieted again as I resumed. The slickness on my lips had spread to my chin, bringing up disjointed memories of Thanksgiving turkey dinner. I pushed these away, concentrating on the sounds filling the tiny dorm room. As I did, I felt a sympathetic wetness between my thighs, as I moved closer to her. My skin dragged on itself, pulling the sensitive folds back and forth. I gasped, tightening my grasp on her legs. I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate on her alone. She was now moving regularly to meet me, the movement of her and taste was increasing to a climatic point. Her shriek did not go unnoticed, by me, or I'm sure, by my suitemates.

Her orgasm was glorious, matching her expression. She quivered, then relaxed, drawing herself up, to take me into her arms and hold me. I kissed her lightly on the mouth, letting her taste herself. She licked my lips and smiled, drawing me down with her to the bed. I closed my eyes, and let myself go to her attentions....

The End

Last modified (12/24/96 14:24:46) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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