I smirked slightly and took a sip of beer. Hester nodded with a chuckle and had a sip, then said:
“Yeah, girls don’t need anyone to tell them what to do.”
“Sure don’t,” I agreed with a smile, wondering if I could ask what happened her sophomore year. It seemed almost appropriate to ask, our talking about girls’ not having to have any experience to do it the first time. I took deeper breath and remarked:
“Like your sophomore year.”
Hester gave me brief, more intense glance, then snorted with nod, smiling. Then she chuckled again and said:
“And most of us – three of us, we were four in the room – had only heard about it, that some guys did it. Oh, don’t think we all immediately did that evening.”
“I wasn’t, yet, but the fourth girl had?”
“Are we going to have supper?” Hester asked.
“If you tell, and we have two more beers.”
“If you want to hear?”
I nodded with a grin, and we started fixing supper. Hester began her story, continuing it as we ate and had our second beers. I interjected a few comments, but they were extraneous to her story.
* * *
Yeah, well, it was the second weekend sophomore year. I had a new roommate, a girl taking the same major. We didn’t know each other that well, but thought we would get along better than with our freshman roommates. The other two were also roommates, but seemed a less likely pair. We hardly knew them, of course. It was Whitney who suggested we sneak a couple of six packs in the dorm. Her roommate, Rose, was quite young, having started college just before her 17th birthday, obviously intelligent. We knew who she was, since the student paper had mentioned that she was the youngest girl in our class.
So there we were, illicitly drink beer in the dorm, in their room. We chatted about ourselves, getting acquainted, then talking about boys, of course. I don’t think that we directly said that we had slept with one, but you know how girls talk, not wanting to admit they had done less than what it sounded like the others had. Rose was quite reticent about that, just nodding.
When we were well into our second beers, Whitney grinned at us and asked what we did, when we didn’t have a date: “or when you have had one?”
My roommate, Leslie, and I had both made it sound like we had slept with someone. I had. I don’t think either of us had recognized that the other had masturbated. I had, but we glanced at each other with sheepish expressions, then smirking and nodding. Rose had an uncomfortable expression and was blushing. “Nomen est omen.” If she hadn’t yet slept with a boy, she knew what Whitney was asking about and was embarrassed that she also played with herself.
Whitney grinned, and remarked:
“I knew you all do. I do too, of course, when I’m alone.”
Rose looked like she was about to say something, but didn’t, still blushing. Why didn’t I look to see if her nipples had popped out, like yours did a while ago? They must have, and so that we could see them; she had nice ones and nice round breasts.
Hmm? I’m getting ahead of my story, but it’s obvious that I eventually did see them, not just see them. Why do the most innocent looking young girls have such good figures? Where was I?
Whitney smirked and took a better drink of her beer, then said:
“There’s something better than that, … not what boys can do, if they’re good, of course. Oh, they can do that too, if they want to. Don’t know one that has yet, however.”
Rose looked startled at her roommate’s remark; since in our previous talk, none of us had been so openly direct. I wasn’t immediately sure what Whitney was talking about, but when Leslie shrugged with raised eyebrows, and Whitney smirked again, I understood that she must be talking about oral sex. Till then, I had just heard the expression, not envisioning what people actually did.
Why had she mentioned it to us, however, especially since she had said that no guy had with her yet? Apparently Rose didn’t have an inkling. She blurted out: “What? What else could they do?”
Then Whitney looked surprised, while Leslie and exchanged glances, both raising our eyebrows. This was going to be interesting, but there was still the question of why Whitney had raised the subject with us. I could have understood, if she had wanted to brag a little – a lot. Had she just heard more about oral sex than we had? Needless to say, if I hadn’t really thought about it, I certainly hadn’t contemplated that it was something girls could do with each other.
Whitney replied to Rose’s question in a conciliatory tone: “You know, oral sex.”
It took a moment for Rose to find her tongue, blushing and then whispering:
“People really do that?”
She wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced and shy. Leslie and I exchanged glances again, now smirking at the confirmation that we had understood, and also at Rose’s question. I still didn’t know why Whitney had raised the subject. She murmured:
“If they want to, … it’s supposed to be good.”
Rose’s eyebrows shot up, as she flushed deeply. It trabzon escort suddenly occurred to me that she could have read more about sex than I had – very little. Hm-hmm! And I remember that her nipples had poked out again. Yeah, she was interested in sex, just still too young to have much experience, and she had been paying attention. The so good student then replied:
“‘It’s supposed to be good”? You said before that it’s ‘something better’.”
“It is,” Whitney admitted quietly, now also blushing a little.
Rose, the so attentive student, persisted:
“You said a boy hadn’t – yet.”
Her remark suddenly awakened to me the possibility that girls could have oral sex with each other. Whitney looked like she had been caught. That surprised me, since she had started all this. If that was what she was talking about, wanting to tell us, she must have anticipated that there would be questions. She took a last drink of her beer, having to tilt it up. She glanced at each of us and then murmured: “Not a boy.”
I had been right, but Rose was nonplussed. After a moment, she asked: “A girl?!”
Whitney just nodded. Rose caught her breath and then asked: She did that to you, … and it was ‘something better’?”
Whitney nodded again. I was sure now that Rose somehow had a better idea than I did about oral sex, wondering how much Leslie knew about it. I didn’t want to glance over at her, but did, when she asked: “And it was better? Did you too?”
Whitney nodded again, this time with a wry smile. The three others of us looked at each other with wide eyes. Then we stared at her, when she said:
“That’s good too.”
“You like to do it?!” Rose blurted out.
It could have been my question, since by now I had a better image of what oral sex could be like, but Rose apparently already had one, her asking so quickly. Whitney nodded with a shrug and a little smile. Rose looked surprised at Whitney’s silent admission, but then also shrugged, as she glanced at Leslie and me with an expression that suggested that she was pleased with Whitney’s response, as though it confirmed whatever she had read about oral sex.
I thought I was my turn to join the conversation, asking the obvious question: “With whom, a girl here last year?”
Rose and Leslie nodded in support of my question. Whitney shook her head, but smiled, then asked if we had more beer. We did, and with fresh beers, she told:
“Not here, last summer. My cousin was staying with us for an internship as a grad student at Berkeley, sleeping in my sister’s bed, who is married now. Well, I guess you can remember my first question, about what we do alone. We weren’t alone, but I was trying not to let her notice what I was doing, but she wasn’t.”
Leslie and I glanced at each other with smirks. Rose nodded with a slight blush, but smiled. Whitney returned her smile and said:
“Better if we don’t have to try to hide it now. So there we were, and as you can imagine now, she suggested that we could do something even better. I was a little shocked, like I guess you all were, but if she wanted to. She did. It was better, better than what the first guys had done, and, well, if she liked to do it, I could do it too. Said it before, that’s good too.”
Whitney looked at us, then more directly at Rose, while Leslie and I glanced at each other, each of us with a questioning raised eyebrow. To keep it short, we all finished our beers, and that night Leslie and I made no pretense of trying to hide what we were doing. Needless to say – again – we did it a lot better than before: not having to suppress our moans; enjoying hearing each other’s.
We didn’t mention what else Whitney had suggested we could do, but the following nights – not every night – when we were “enjoying ourselves”, we sometimes told each other what our fingers were doing. Hm-hmm! We also said that we liked how they tasted, I guess Leslie was also thinking about what Whitney had suggested. I sure was.
Of course, we saw Whitney and Rose every day, not always together, but when I saw both of them, and they both smirked slightly, I had to wonder if Whitney had talked Rose into letting her do it, lick her pussy – not to mince words. That evening together, although Rose had at first seemed so unknowingly innocent, later she had seemed to have had a better idea than I did about what Whitney had been talking about.
Smirking: when one of them met Leslie and me and smirked, we both also did, exchanging glances. I guess that went on both ways for a couple of weeks. One night, when, when Leslie and I both had our fingers in our pussies, she asked: “Do you think they do?”
I was wrong before, that we hadn’t mentioned that, but now Leslie had. I didn’t know, of course, but replied:
“Do you want them to have?”
“Sounded like she liked it, that it was good – better.”
“Um-hmm,” I agreed, and we finished what we were doing, but I was wondering how it would feel to have a tongue doing what the fingers my hand were, the other one’s deep in my pussy. trabzon escort bayan They tasted so good; that is, my pussy juice on them tasted so good – as I heard Leslie licking her fingers.
A couple of days later, as Leslie and I were going to one of our courses, Whitney caught up with us in the corridor. She grinned and asked if we could skip the lecture. We looked at each other and shrugged. If Whitney thought she had something so important to tell? I nodded, and Leslie did. She smiled and suggested we go back to our room with her.
The only thing we really had in common with Whitney – and Rose – was all that talk about sex. It seemed that that could be the only reason for her wanting to talk to us not in the corridor. Leslie’s glance at me suggested that she had the same thought. We showed her into our room and closed the door. Whitney looked us with bright eyes and asked:
Have you, haven’t you two yet?”
Leslie and I glanced at each other. She understood the question like I did, and we both shook our heads, then both shrugged with expressions that we understood what Whitney was asking. She frowned slightly and said:
“I thought you would have by now,” then grinned and added, almost triumphantly:
“We have! Two nights ago, couldn’t find you two yesterday. Mmmm! Yeah, she had told me that it was her eighteenth birthday, and I told her what I wanted to give her for it. Hm-hmm! She’s still a virgin. She told me that, but that she doesn’t want to be, and – I guess – she knew more about it all from somewhere than it seemed that night.”
“It sure did, at first,” I agreed.
Leslie nodded vigorously, giving me a grin, then asked:
“And it was good?”
“Both ways; then she wanted to do it! Hmmmm! Then both of us. … You ought to do it.”
Leslie was smiling at me with raised eyebrows and nodding.
I suddenly wondered if I hadn’t been wanting to lick her pussy since I had understood what Whitney had been talking about that evening. No, it couldn’t have been then already, but since we had started to talk about what our fingers were doing; certainly, when we both were licking our fingers. Yes, I wanted to! I returned her smile.
Whitney grinned and said:
“Oh, that’s good. You’ll like it as much as Rose did – both ways. Don’t need to learn how.”
Whitney left our room, and we looked at each other. I could have done it right then, but we didn’t.
After supper, however, one of us said: “If she thinks we should?”
Doesn’t matter which of us said it, can’t remember, didn’t make any difference; we did. You know how good we did. Hm-hmm! Didn’t study that evening. Mmmm! And then – it was a couple of weekends later – when we had admitted to Whitney and Rose that we had, they had both grinned. Well, it was sort of an orgy.
We had two more six packs, but we didn’t finish them. They were only an excuse for us all to be in one room together again. Was it really Rose, who started to take off her shirt? Such round breasts, and without a bra! And her still virgin pussy, but deflowered. Leslie discovered that with her fingers before I did, but I was delighting at discovering that Whitney’s pussy tasted as good as Leslie’s.
Yeah, it was an orgy, if four girls can have one. We sat up and finished our first beers, and then changed partners on the two beds. Was Rose’s pussy somehow more attractive because I knew that a cock hadn’t been in it, that it just knew the arousal of a girl’s tongue? When Whitney then wanted to lick it, I was a little disappointed, thinking that she always could, but then I was enjoying licking and tasting again Leslie’s now so familiar pussy, and that she was tasting mine, and arousing it as good as Whitney and Rose had.
We didn’t do that again. Oh, not all four of us, but a couple of times, when one of had her period, or was otherwise not around. And, as you can imagine, that was just sophomore year. There were a few other girls. More than the boys?
* * *
Hester finished her story with shrug and grin, then held up her beer, and we both drank, emptying our beers. I was very aware that I didn’t have panties on under my skirt, hoping that the lining of it wasn’t letting any moisture seep through.
“More boys, I hope now,” I replied.
“Maybe, but …, well, I said I would tell you the next time. We haven’t yet.”
We grinned and cleared the table. In the kitchen, when she had a free hand, she rubbed my ass. I was delighted at her wanting to start contact, and also at how the smooth lining felt moving on my skin. But then she snickered and said: “No panties.”
I recovered from my initial shock and her recognition and chuckled, replying:
“They were too wet when I was coming home, and then you arrived.”
“Before you could find dry ones?”
She rubbed my skirt on my ass again with a snicker. I nodded. She hummed, then said:
“Now mine are too.”
I had to believe her. A few moments later, we had finished in the kitchen, and we started to get undressed, still escort trabzon in the living room. She glance at the sofa with a hum and went to the bathroom. I also had to go, but not before I had opened the sofabed and finished taking off my clothes, easy, quick, my skirt dropping, my blouse dropping somewhere, my bra off, as I joined Hester in the bathroom.
She grinned. Her skirt and panties were around her ankles, and her blouse open, now slipping off her shoulders, as she remarked:
“Why didn’t we just do it two weeks ago?”
“Why didn’t you suggest it?”
“Hm-hm-hmm! Didn’t know you were like me,” I replied with a smirk.
“Now we do,” she agreed, stepping out of her skirt and panties and unhooking her bra.
I used the toilet, while she washed her pussy, then I did. We purred as we returned to the living room. The table lamp was left on, and we dove down on the sofabed, facing each other. Hester chuckled and fondle my breast, then chuckled again and said:
“Yeah, I didn’t just see Rose’s – and Leslie’s and Whitney’s, of course. Don’t have to tell you that licking and sucking them is almost as good having them licked and sucked.”
I moaned and put my hand on the back of her head and rolled back, urging her to follow me. “Um-hmm-hmm!” she agreed and curled her head down. Her fingers slid down around my breast, squeezing it. My aroused nipple rose a little and then disappeared between her lips. She sucked and licked, and I moaned. When guys had sucked my nipples, why hadn’t I imagined what it was like for them, like I now was imagining what it was like for Hester’s tongue and lips!
Then her hand left my breast and slid down. When her fingers explored in my pubic hair, my thighs rolled apart instinctively at feel fingers there, before I was surprised that she wanted rub my pussy. When she nodded slightly with my nipple in her mouth, I rationalized that, of course, she and all those girls at Sarah Lawrence hadn’t just licked each other’s pussies, then wondering how it would feel to have my fingers in her pussy. How could it feel different from my own?
I moaned again, spreading my thighs; her fingers were doing what mine would have been doing, starting with tantalizing, teasing, arousing exploration, not like guys’ fingers did, immediately probing to finger-fuck me. Then hers did, but still just gently probing – so arousingly – until I heard them make a wet noise. She chuckled in her throat and sucked, and then a finger was slipping into my pussy.
I moaned encouragingly. She nodded again, and another finger slipped in. I moaned again; her two fingers could go deeper than mine could. Maybe they weren’t as long and thick as a man’s would have been, but they knew better how to arouse me. Mine would too, when it was my turn, but then, to my surprise, she let my nipple pop out of her mouth with a chuckle and said:
“Rose wasn’t that much of virgin, if you know what I mean, but she sure was tight.”
I chuckled with nod and replied:
“Like we were, when we got a finger in all the way the first time.”
“Um-hmm, but we didn’t know how to do it as good as we do now,” she replied.
Her fingers demonstrated what she meant, making wet noises and making me moan, as her mouth found my other nipple. God, she was doing it good! Did she want to give me an orgasm just this way? She could, better than I could with my fingers, but didn’t she also want to lick and taste my now so wet pussy, or was she wanting to show me what else girls could do, wanting me to do the same with her? I would be delighted to, and was looking forward to sucking her nipples and having my fingers in her pussy, but also tasting it again.
She did want to taste mine. Her fingers slurped out and then were wet on my other nipple, arousing it as she wiped her fingers on it. Then her mouth moved over and licked and sucked it. I liked that, how it felt and that I had been right that she wanted to taste my pussy juice. Her hand was back on my pussy, now rubbing over my clitoris.
Of course, she knew as well as I did what my pussy wanted, and knew just how, and it was being more arousing that someone else’s fingers were doing it. She could lick my pussy another time, now I wanted it this way, and I especially wanted her fingers back in my pussy, where they could do more than mine could, but mine could rub my clitoris as good as hers were – not better.
My hand slid over my hip, my fingers under her palm. She sucked and moved my nipple with a nod, and let my fingers slid further. I couldn’t have been the first girl to suggested what I was wanting. Her fingers let mine replace hers on my clitoris, and hers slid down and into my pussy again. I moaned and rubbed, and her fingers began again to do what they could better than mine. Having sex with another girl didn’t just have to be pussy licking, as good as that was!
Oooh! Hester’s thighs were straddling mine. I hadn’t notice when her hips rolled over my thigh, but now they were rocking on it, the firm swelling between her thighs rubbing on my thigh. What was the expression for it: her “mons veneris.” My weak Latin remembered: her mound of Venus – so appropriate! Her pussy wanted to be rubbed. My thigh drew up between hers. She moaned, almost biting my nipple, as her hips rocked, and her fingers – and mine – did everything they could, did everything my pussy wanted.