Debra
"Anyway, when he told me my mark, I couldn't believe it, you know, only fifty-five on the project which had taken me weeks, so I instantly asked for it to be regraded and he was just completely dismissive. Can you believe that? Anyway, I got Mrs. Campbell to look at it and she said it was at least eighty, so I got it regraded and guess what? Ninety. Upgraded from fifty-five to ninety."
Alice looked over at me with a smug look, jiggling her leg and holding a plastic cup in one hand. "Ninety!"
"Can't believe it," I told her, sipping my own drink, which was an unidentified rum punch. I could taste pineapple but there was too much alcohol in it and I made a face.
Alice was the smartest girl in my college business course. She was nice enough, but she was obsessed with her grades, and now we'd reached the end of the first year of the course, that was all she wanted to talk about. I was unlucky enough to have sat down next to her when I arrived at the end of term party and she stuck to me all night. I could have recited her full grade transcript.
The party was one of those that was supposed to start with heavy drinking and then move on to a nightclub later, but somehow it had never really got going and I'd spent the past two hours sitting in a college kitchen on an all-expense-spared plastic seat which stuck to my thighs. It was humid and sweaty even though all the windows were open. Even in my shorts and red crop top, I felt too warm.
My dorm room was just about a five minute walk: through two sets of doors, across a courtyard, up a flight of stairs and then two more doors. I could be in bed in less than ten minutes.
"I think I might call it a night," I told Alice, putting my phone down.
"Aw, no! We're supposed to be celebrating!" Alice pouted, grabbing my arm. Her hand was damp from what I hoped was condensation on the side of her cup. "One more drink? Will you get me one?"
I sighed. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all, now that exams were over. One more probably wouldn't hurt.
"Alright, one more," I told her, knowing that she was just enjoying the sound of her own voice. But it was only nine o'clock and going back to my room for an early night did sound a bit depressing.
I got up and pushed my strawberry blonde hair behind my ears. I had been blessed with a fantastic hair color, but absolutely zero volume, so it always hung limply in my face. I took Alice's cup and stepped over to the drinks table, which was further away from the windows and insufferably stuffy. The rum punch was almost untouched, but I ladled us both a cupful, bending down over the table to try not to spill any, and when I straightened up and turned I noticed a girl sitting on one side of the room, staring at me.
She was everything I was not. Thick, voluminous, wavy blonde hair fell over her shoulders in perfectly scattered tresses. She was gorgeously made up, with long mascara-ed eyelashes, pale pink glossy lips and tapered eyebrows, in contrast to my dab of nude lipstick and touch of concealer. My earrings were diamond studs; hers were gold hoops which caught the low light in the kitchen as her head turned ever so slightly. And my slim figure was nothing like her curves. My neat A-cups, tucked beneath my top, were up against what looked like maybe C cups and only half-covered in a jet black sequined dress which was halfway between casual and classy. And out of the bottom of her dress were two toned thighs. She took my breath away.
Our eyes met for a moment and I looked away, feeling unusually embarrassed. I stared furiously at the two cups of punch I'd poured. She was just some other girl at the party - I didn't even recognize her from school. I had no idea why I felt weird about her looking at me. I glanced back over in her direction, trying to come across as casual, and she had turned to talk to her friend sitting next to her, holding a can of premixed vodka at a slight angle. I was trying to work out whether her nails were painted when she looked back at me, our eyes meeting again. I could feel my face getting hot and I grabbed the punch, going back to Alice and not looking back.
"Thanks," Alice said, still bobbing her foot up and down as she took the cup from me. "Do you think next year's marks will be harder to get?"
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I knew I couldn't hang out with her anymore. And I felt unnerved by that girl looking at me and I just wanted to be back in my room.
"I don't think I feel too well," I told Alice, ignoring her comment. "I'm going to go back to my room."
"Do you need me to walk you there?" Alice asked, looking concerned, and I shook my head firmly.
"No, I think the fresh air outside will help. It's too stuffy in here," I explained.
I had to walk past the girl in the black dress to get out of the kitchen, but I forced myself not to look at her. I still didn't know why I felt weird about her. It was probably a kind of insecurity, since she had a beautiful confidence that I didn't have, and at the back of my mind I was worried she was laughing at me or judging me. Something like, “Oh, look over there at that skinny, bony girl.”
The corridor outside the kitchen was a bit cooler, but after going through both sets of doors and into the courtyard, the sharp coolness of the night air hit me, and I felt a lot better. My pace slackened and I looked up at the clear night' sky, a handful of stars visible beyond a light haze, taking a deep breath. Maybe I was more drunk than I realized, even though I'd only had a couple of drinks. There was a lot of rum in them, though.
"Hey," a voice said behind me, and I turned to see the girl walking towards me. Now she was standing up, I was acutely aware of the fact that she was several inches taller than me, although admittedly she was wearing heels and I wasn't.
"Um, hi," I replied, fighting my instinctive shyness. "Sorry about back there."
She smiled slightly and gave me a confused look. "What are you sorry for?" she asked, halting a short distance away from me and
perching herself on the corner of a brick planter.
"I don't know," I admitted, smiling too. "I saw you looking at me, that's all."
"Then it's probably me that should be sorry," she said, bluntly. "Do you want another drink? I nicked these vodkas, that punch was disgusting." She held up two cans she was carrying.
Now I was out of the close atmosphere of the kitchen I felt a bit better, and I sat down on the bricks next to her.
"Cranberry or mango? No, I don't want mango, you'd better have it" she said, reading the flavors off in the semi-darkness before handing one to me. Before I could examine it, she popped open hers and held it up. "Cheers."
"Cheers" I repeated, opening mine and having a drink. It was lukewarm and sweet, but relatively palatable.
"Are you in the business course?" she asked. "I'm Debra, by the way."
"I'm Ellen" I replied, then paused, inexplicably. "Um, yeah, I am in the business course. I don't know why I needed to pause there."
Debra laughed, a loud noise which seemed intrinsically genuine and warm.
"I wondered. I'm friends with Kayla but I do media & art."
"Oh, I did a group project with Kayla before Christmas," I said, but even as I said it, I realized it wasn't very interesting. "I don’t think I’ve seen you before."
"That party wasn't up to much" Debra said. "I thought someone had ordered us an Uber to go into the city but that never seemed to happen. I got all dressed up for nothing."
"You look great," I gushed, and she looked at me, smiling before sipping her drink again.
"Thanks, you look amazing too," she said, sincerely. "I love your hair, although you probably hear that all the time."
I could feel my face getting warm again. "Thanks," I told her, automatically pushing it behind my ear again.
"Love the earrings, too. Understated, very classic," Debra went on, looking at my ear as I pulled my hand away.
I squeezed the can in my hand until the aluminium crinkled. "How do you like doing art?" I asked, to change the subject. I glanced over at her and watched her drain a few mouthfuls from the can in a very unfeminine manner that somehow still looked good on her.
"Yeah, it's great, really. No prospects of employment afterwards, of course, but I love being able to express myself creatively" she told me. "What about you? Loving business?"
I smiled. "My parents wanted me to do it, insisting that over ninety-nine percent of graduates have a job in the field within two years."
"Complete opposite of me. My parents begged me to do anything but art," Debra laughed again. "Kayla is always trying to tell me about her bright ideas on how I could make money."
"It's not all about money, there's a lot of other things in the course," I began, but once again I got the impression that this wasn't sparkling conversation. I somehow just couldn't shake the feeling of being a little in awe of Debra, who seemed totally confident and free of insecurity.
"I suppose," Debra said, tipping up her can again. I watched, hardly aware of how I was staring, as she finished it and looked at me.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she giggled, putting the can down on the ground and flattening it under her heel.
"Sorry, I-" I started, but Debra stopped me.
"How's yours going?" she asked, reaching over and picking up my can. I had managed about two mouthfuls out of it and she wrinkled her nose.
"Oh, come on, I thought you'd be a faster drinker than this," she said, lifting it to her mouth to help out. "Oh, God, no, I was right about the mango. You take it back."
I laughed, then did my best to imitate her and drink half of the can in one go, but I couldn't manage more than a small swallow before
I had to stop.
"Lightweight," Debra teased, taking the can again and drinking. There was something strangely intimate about sharing the can, and when she gave it back I could see a tiny spot of pink lipgloss on the rim. I ignored it, wanting to look cool, and took another drink. The can was rapidly emptying and after we'd passed it back and forth a few more times, Debra poured the final dregs into the plants behind us. For some reason I wasn't sure what to say to her and I just took surreptitious glances at her when I thought she wasn't looking.
"Well, this was fun, Ellen," Debra announced. "I'm going to head back to my room. Want to see it? I'm sure it's probably identical to yours, but you never know."
She looked at me and I felt another hot flush go through me. I wasn't an idiot, I had become vaguely aware over the past few minutes that Debra might be hitting on me, and an invitation back to her room surely wasn't just to watch episodes of Friends and gossip. But being hit on by a girl felt so surreal that I somehow couldn't actually bring myself to believe it was true. And anyway, I actually kind of wanted to go with her, even knowing what the implication of that was. I wasn't a lesbian, I had a boyfriend after all, but there was something about Debra that made me feel differently. A kind of rush of sexual excitement, like taking the first steps on a tightrope. Like I wanted to push this boundary and see if it was really true.
"Um, okay, I suppose looking won't hurt," I told her, and she looked at me again. I wasn't sure if she was taken aback or not, but I got the impression that wasn't the answer she had expected.
Her room was on the opposite side of the courtyard from mine, and she had a top floor room so we had to climb the stairs first. I followed her up the stairs and the sight of her thighs and behind as she climbed sent another shiver of excitement through me. Plus, I could definitely feel the effect of the alcohol by the time we'd arrived at her door and I paused for a second to catch my breath.
"Sorry about the mess," Debra said, unlocking the door. She had been right in that the room was identical to mine: the exact same layout, with mirrored wardrobe, single bed and desk under the window. But she had artworks in various stages of completion scattered about, and her desk was covered in boxes of charcoals and pastels, unlike mine, which was covered in my laptop and textbooks. Debra switched on her bedside lamp, and I noticed the room smelt strongly of vanilla.
"Vanilla, right? The day I moved in, my mother broke a bottle of vanilla essence on the carpet by accident. I cannot get rid of that smell," Debra complained, reading my mind, and I laughed, feeling more at ease. She piled some papers that had been drying on the bed on the desk and I sat down, a little unsure what to expect. The room was bathed in a pale orange glow from the lamp and Debra's plain white bedspread wrinkled under me as I looked over at her. She was standing up, tidying the desk slightly, then she turned and looked down at me. I looked up at her, hesitant, trying to think of the right thing to say. Without saying a word, she stepped over to me, put her hand on my neck and kissed me.
I froze. She tasted of mango vodka and the faint taste of her lip gloss, and I felt her fingers gently sliding through my hair as she pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me, the sequins on her dress brushing over my thighs and my stomach, her hair falling around my face and dimming the room. There was part of me that wanted to stop, thinking fact that a complete stranger was kissing me in her bed. Another part, my erotic part, wanted to keep going, to see where this led. There was something so attractive about the opportunity to kiss and explore Debra. The thought that drove any idea of stopping her clean out of my head was this: Debra was attracted to me. I hadn't had a lot of male attention, and certainly no female attention, over the years and suddenly this gorgeous girl was really into me. I loved it.
So, I unfroze and kissed her back. Debra was forceful but gentle, holding me down on the bed, her body on top of mine, but her hands were soft and her fingernails grazed my scalp as she ran her hands through my hair. Tentatively I put my arms around her neck, my hands on her shoulders, and she made a breathless noise in response, her mouth moving off mine and onto my cheek, my jaw and my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly as she did, shivers running through me until she worked her way back to my mouth, her tongue touching mine with a spark of electricity. Kissing her was so much softer than kissing a guy, and even touching her body was all soft angles and not the hard, bony frame I was used to with guys. And I could feel her bust pressing down into me, which was a novel and somehow welcome sensation.
I felt her hands move from my hair to my neck again, then down to my shoulders, under my arms and down my sides. She pushed her fingers under the bottom of my top and helped it upwards, lifting herself off me to create enough gap for it to stretch over my bra. Breaking the kiss, Debra sat up, straddling me, and pulled the top over my head. It caught my hair and made a mess of it, but before I had time to worry too much about it Debra was kissing me again, her hands back in my hair, smoothing it. I pressed myself back into her, gratefully, and now I could feel her sequins on more of my skin, catching against the lace details on my bra.
With a gentle noise of satisfaction, Debra stopped kissing me again, looked down at me for a moment before getting off me and standing up beside the bed. I stayed where I was lying, confused for a moment, and watched as she reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. It took her a second to get her arms out of the sleeves but when she did, the dress slid down over her hips and onto the floor. She bent down to take off her heels too, and I watched her pair of seamless sheer boyshorts stretch over her beautiful bum. Somehow, I had expected sexy knickers, a thong or something, but the shorts suited her so much more. Her panties were sheer enough that I could see a trimmed blonde bush above her pussy slit. She straightened up and turned to face me, her breasts now contained in her low-cut black bra, and she smiled as I stared.
"Come here," she said gently, her voice low and sexy, and, as if I was under her spell or something, I did as I was told. She was irresistible. I stood up in front of her, our bras an inch from touching, but she knelt down in front of me next, gently easing my feet out of my shoes. Then she traced her fingers up my legs to my shorts, looking up at me, and she reached out to undo them. They fell straight off me, and we were both in our underwear, my bikini knickers and her boy shorts, my bra lacy and hers in black satin.
She stepped towards me, backing me up into the front of the wardrobe and we kissed again, more passionately, the feeling of her bare skin on mine sending a thrill through me. I put my hands in her hair, loving how thick it felt, how it resisted the movement of my fingers and how I could get lost in it. Her hands were on my waist, keeping me in place, before one hand crept over my hip bone and downwards, over the top of my knickers and onto my damp pussy. She applied pressure through the material, making me gasp softly.
My phone buzzed with a text.
"Ignore it," I said as Debra stopped kissing me, a smile playing on her lips.
"Who's texting you this late?" she asked, kissing me in between words, keeping her hand in place. I gently moved my hips to press into her hand. I liked the feel of her hand on my pussy.
"M-my, uh, boyfriend," I stammered, unable to lie as my mind focused completely on where her hand was.
"Are you straight?" she asked, kissing my neck and my collarbone now, her hand still pressing firmly into me. She looked up at me for a moment and we made eye contact.
"I thought I was," I admitted, and Debra's face lit up with a big grin.
"That's so fucking sexy, Ellen," she said, lingering over my name before going back to kissing my lips even more hungrily. Her fingers started rubbing me through my knickers and I moaned for the first time, feeling a flush of embarrassment as I did. But it seemed to encourage Debra and she pushed me harder into the wardrobe, so I relaxed into it. Her touch felt amazingly good, so precise and confident. It only took her a minute to have me moaning over and over, my knees weak, arms wrapped around her to keep my balance. Debra paused just long enough to push my knickers down and then her hand was on my pussy, pushing through my wet lips and finding my clit. I couldn't believe how good this felt: already Debra was taking me to places I never knew existed.
Still holding me up against the wardrobe door, Debra shifted both her hands down between my legs, having to bend her knees slightly to reach as I was shorter than her, even as I strained to stay as upright as possible. With one hand she kept up the pressure on my clit, her fingers expertly establishing a rhythm of movement. With the other, she slipped her fingers over my opening, collecting wetness, and as she moved back to kissing me, firmly and sexily, she eased a finger inside me. She was gentle, taking a few seconds to slowly work her finger inside, but the sensation was exquisite. Standing up, I felt as if my whole weight was pushing me down onto her finger, and when she curled it inside me, combined with rubbing my clit, I was moaning into her mouth and my thighs began to shake. Both of her hands synchronized their movements now, my eyes squeezed shut, and after a few minutes I dimly became aware that she'd pushed a second finger inside me, moving fluidly between pressing on my g spot and pushing her fingers in and out of me, firmly and quickly.
I tried to shift my weight and realized she was holding me up with her hands, my feet barely touched the carpet. I buried my face in her neck, her hair enveloping me, breathing the scent of her shampoo as she kept fingering me. My nipples ached in my bra, and ordinarily I would have felt overwhelmed and asked my lover to stop, but I was under Debra’s erotic spell and I couldn't bring myself to make any noise other than those of pleasure. When I did finally feel my first orgasm wash over me, just a little one, enough to make my body tense and my teeth dig into Debra, she slowly slackened her pace and lowered me gently to the floor.
Gasping for breath, it dawned on me that for the first time another girl had made me come, and not only did it seem almost effortless,
I felt sensations that I had never felt before. The mirror of the wardrobe was suddenly cold on my back and I looked at Debra, preparing to say something about how good that had felt, but as my mouth opened, she gently pushed a finger against my lips, quieting me. There was a faint taste of my come on her finger and she looked at me for a moment, her confident eyes gazing at my wide, wondering ones.
"I'm not finished, yet" Debra whispered, but her voice sounded loud in the quiet room, only filled with my shallow breaths. She flashed me another grin and, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, she dropped to her knees in front of me. I stared down at her, uncomprehending right up until the moment she moved her face forward and I felt the first touch of her hot tongue on my clit.
It was like an explosion of sensations. I was already sensitive from the fingering earlier, and the slick, wet surface of her tongue, pressing firmly onto me, pushed me straight through a wall of resistance and into a different world. I had no time to think, only to feel. She slid one of her fingers back into me, meeting her tiny licks with pressure from the finger, and I realized with a moment of slight panic that my vision was full of dancing spots. I wobbled briefly on the spot, but Debra reached her free hand up, sliding her damp fingers over my tummy and my ribs until they reached my bra. She held her hand there, my nipple in the center of her palm under the fabric, and pushed me firmly into the wardrobe, keeping my balance as she went back to focusing on my pussy. It was heavenly. I tilted my head back, hard against the mirror, my hair crunching whenever I moved, but I barely noticed it as the rushes of warm arousal rose from between my legs.
One of my hands grabbed the wardrobe door handle, squeezing it for dear life, and the other I slid into Debra's hair, gently guiding her tongue to an even more divine spot, not that she really needed it. It was more for the touch of her gorgeous hair, feeling it in my fingers, the warmth of it. Somehow it was both comforting and arousing to touch her there, the tiny movements of her head conveying up through my hand and my arm as I felt them on my clit. I was awash with pleasure and whenever my body moved, it was counteracted by Debra's powerful, firm hand on my chest, shivers of sensation going through my nipple as it rubbed on the fabric.
"Oh, fuck," I moaned out, her finger inside me pushed in and out fast and hard, in time with the movements and swirls of her tongue. I could feel another orgasm coming, this one more intense, and I curled up my fingers in her hair, eyes shut, feeling it approach closer and closer. Debra didn't pause for a moment and pushed me, no, drove me across the edge. I came hard, my body shaking again, my back locking in place. The room was full of my moans, and when I finally felt the orgasm subsiding, I wondered briefly whether the students in the next-door rooms could hear me. And then, as relaxed as I felt, I started to wonder whether Debra often brought people back to her room and made them feel like this, and she must have sensed my sudden nervousness because she slowly withdrew from me and stood up.
"Don't overthink it," she advised, gently, kissing me once, lightly. Her lips were gone almost as soon as they'd arrived. My legs gingerly took my weight as I stood away from the wardrobe, my thighs wet as they touched together for the first time in what felt like hours but must have been minutes. Debra stood in front of me, smiling as she reached behind her back and undid her bra. Her breasts were beautiful. She had big areolas ringing her nipples, which were thick and erect but not as big as mine. Without the support of the bra, they moved easily when she moved, dominating the top half of her body. I was used to looking at my pink, poky nipples in the mirror, and it was a thrill to see the contrast of her body in front of me. We moved close together and kissed again, her boobs pressing into me.
Our making out got more intense again, standing in the middle of the room, her hands on my waist and my hips as I held her shoulders, loving the touch of her soft, smooth skin under my fingertips. I kissed her cheekbone and then her jaw, under her ear, and I felt soft pressure on my hips from her hands, moving me downward. I moved down her neck, alternating between kisses and gentle licks, but as I crossed her shoulder I felt a sudden rush of panic. I was kissing the top of her cleavage now and in a few seconds I'd be kissing and licking another girl's breasts. Did I want to? Was I ready? Somehow, mentally, Debra fingering me and licking me hadn't felt... well, hadn't felt like I was actually having lesbian sex. But feeling her nipple against my lips definitely would feel like that.
Her breast was soft as I kissed the top of it, her cleavage warm and slightly damp from sweat. I was agonizing over whether to take this next step and I hesitated, no longer moving downwards but circling her cleavage, furiously trying to decide what to do. At first Debra didn't respond, except to increase the gentle downward pressure on my hips, but after a few more seconds she stepped back, her hands moving up to my shoulders, and I straightened up, looking at her, embarrassed at my indecisiveness.
"Take the dive, Ellen" she said, confidently, reaching up to one of her breasts and cupping it in her hand, She held my shoulder tightly, pulling me, moving her fingers around and under my curtain of hair, holding the top of my neck. In a second she would put my mouth on her nipple; I licked, then sucked. She moaned softly, a satisfied noise, and I used my lips to squeeze her nipple gently. I had no idea how I should be doing this, but she kept my head in place and I licked again, my body responding with a sudden shudder of excitement when I realized I was really licking another woman's nipple. I sucked again, a little harder, and she dug her fingers into my neck. It was gentle, but I tensed up, suddenly unsure, licking half-heartedly. Debra released her grip, her breast moving away from me, and she looked at me.
"It's okay," she reassured me as I felt a flush of shame and inadequacy. "First times can be tough. I have an idea, though."
She took my hand, a gesture I found surprisingly intimate, and squeezed it gently as she led me over to the bed. I sat down on the edge, the bedclothes suddenly cool against my thighs, and she stood in front of me.
"Close your eyes. I promise it'll be okay," she said, making eye contact. I nodded and closed them, then immediately opened them again, and Debra laughed.
"Closed. You'll love it, I promise," she reassured me, and this time I closed them and covered them with my fingers.
I heard her going in a drawer and then some moving around, fabric rustling, and I imagined she might be putting on some different underwear or maybe getting a blindfold or something. My eyes shot open when I felt her sit next to me, but my fingers covered them so I couldn't see anything.
"Open," she commanded, and when I did, I looked over to see her sitting there, still topless, still smiling, but with a strap-on attached over the top of her boyshorts. It was bright pink, smooth and matte, and to my slight relief it wasn't particularly large. Debra reached over and took my hand again, squeezing my fingers softly, then put my hand on the toy.
"You've done this before, right?" she asked, breathily, kissing my cheek. My fingers wrapped around the shaft. Weirdly, she was right - this did make me feel more comfortable. I knew what to do with a cock. I started stroking gently, my fingers slipping over the soft plastic material, and when I pushed down, towards her, I felt Debra push back gently, her breaths getting faster, and I guessed that the base of the toy was pressing into her clit. I started to stroke a little faster, but it wasn't as easy to rub as a real cock and I had to slow down again to stop the cock from jerking and bouncing around.
Debra kissed me deeply, her tongue moving over mine, her lips pressing into me, and then she pulled back and gave me a sexy look that almost melted me.
"Get on all fours," she said, a tone of firmness entering her voice that I hadn't heard yet. "I want to fuck you."
I didn't want to disobey. I was already on the bed, facing the mirror, spreading my thighs to get my balance right, when I actually realized what the implications were. As Debra moved into position behind me, she could see my pussy and my bum on display in front of her. I was anxious for her to put her cock inside me and fuck me. Any time to think about what I wanted was lost as the tip of her cock pressed up against me, my hips pushed back to provide resistance. I looked up at the mirror and Debra was looking down at her cock, getting it into the right place, and then pushing herself forward. The toy entered me easily, making me gasp softly and then moan. It did not feel the same as a guy's cock, which was bigger, hotter and softer, but the hardness of the plastic had an interesting feeling of its own.
Spreading my thighs a little wider I prepared for her to push in deeper, but I felt Debra's hands on my hips, pulling me back upwards. I leaned forward, my arms collapsing and my head and neck pressing into the soft bed, my hips and bum up high for her, and she pushed all the way into me. My moans were muffled by the bed now, but as she began to build up a rhythm I could hear her moans loud and clear. All I could think was this: a girl is fucking me. Another girl is fucking me. I'm being fucked by a girl. In the mirror I could see Debra's tits bouncing as she pushed into me, still gripping my hips for leverage, her nipples hard and casting tiny shadows..
"Fuck, good girl," Debra said, between moans, pushing harder into me. I moaned back, gripping the bedclothes even harder. "You're so good at taking cock."
I had never had a lover use any kind of dirty talk. Our lovemaking had a soundtrack of moans, grunts and sometimes the radio if we were trying not to be overheard. A rush of embarrassment went through me again as I didn't really know how to respond.
Debra seemed to realize this and prompted me. "Tell me what you're doing," she said, that note of firmness still in her words.
"I’m getting fucked … Taking a cock," I replied, in a small voice.
"Taking whose cock?"
"Yours."
"You're taking another girl's cock."
That made me moan. I hadn't realized dirty talk could physically turn me on like this. Debra grinned at me in the mirror.
"You like that?" she asked, speeding up again. "You like it when I fuck you?"
I nodded, my hair falling over my face as I tried to push my hips back, feeling incredibly wet, now.
"Ellen, look at me," Debra said, and I pushed my hair out of my face, meeting her eyes in the mirror. I could see my tits rocking back and forth as Debra fucked me. God, the sight was so erotic.
"I'm going to fuck you until you come."
What surprised me the most was how much I loved it. At that moment I wanted nothing more in the entire world than to be Debra's lover. To take her cock, to get fucked by her, to do whatever she told me to. She owned me, mind and body. I gasped, moaned, and felt her slapping into me from behind even harder, the toy driving deep into me.
"Yes," I replied, wishing my voice wasn't as weak as it was.
"Take it," Debra said, without a pause.
"Yes," I said again, moaning the word this time. I couldn't believe how turned on this was making me. It was like a whole side of me I'd never known existed.
I felt Debra pushing into me fast and hard, her hips driving into me, and I pushed back, knowing that she was grinding herself on the toy as she did it. She started to look a little flustered in the mirror, her cheeks getting some color, one of her hands letting go of my hips for a second to squeeze her own breast, pulling on her nipple as she moaned, breathlessly. I stayed in place, pushing back hard, driving my hips back onto her, wanting her to come.
"I want you to come," I had said, almost without realizing it, vocalizing my thoughts perfectly.
Debra responded by moaning louder. "Yes, I'm so close," she said, any semblance of a whisper long gone.
I couldn't believe I wanted another girl to use my body to make herself come, and I definitely couldn't believe how okay I felt with it. I loved it. I wanted it so much. I stayed in place, letting her keep up her rhythm, her fingernails digging hard into my hips as she leant forwards and rode me through her orgasm, the toy pounding deep into me each time. I wanted to look in the mirror and watch her, but the force of the fucking had pushed my head back into the bedclothes and my noises were muffled again.
She slowed, then stopped, pushed all the way inside me. I felt dizzy and took a couple of deep breaths, a little unsteady, and Debra gently released her grip on me, the spots her fingernails were leaving lingering spots of gentle pain. She slid back out of me and I moaned one last time, prepared to collapse down onto the bed, eyes fluttering closed, but Debra held me gently in place. Then my eyes shot as wide open as they had ever been when I felt the slick tip of the toy press firmly against my rosebud.
"Just take it," Debra said, soothingly but still firmly, pressing harder.
"I’ve never ---" I said, urgently.
"I want to take your virginity, Ellen," Debra replied, firmer and soothing now. "Be a good girl and say yes."
This was not how I had imagined things. No guy had never shown more than a passing interest in my ass and I figured maybe one day I would try it. But now the toy was pressing hard into me and as tight as I was, the toy was wet enough and it would slip inside me any moment if I didn't stop her.
But, I realized with a rush, I didn't want to stop her. I wanted to be her to do me and if that meant taking her up my ass then I wanted to do it.
"Yes," I breathed, relaxing, and in the same moment the toy moved past my resistance and went inside. It hurt a little as it stretched me, a sudden, sharp burning sensation, and I let out a quiet cry. Debra went slowly but didn't relent, the toy inching its length into my tightness, the burning distracting me from anything else until I felt Debra's thighs press into me. Okay, she was all the way inside. At least it couldn't get any more intense than this moment. She pulled back and I felt relief, and then she pushed back in, and this time my nerves gave way to a satisfied fullness. Having her deep inside me actually felt good, in a way, although my bum still hurt. She started going faster and I bit down on the bedclothes, her hands gripping my hips again, and as she began to really fuck me. I realized that the burning sensation was melting away. First the edges went, then it shrank to just a point of pain, then it was gone.
And, incredibly, what I was feeling in its place was pure pleasure.
"I wanted to fuck your ass since the moment I saw you at the party," Debra said in a steady voice, her thighs rhythmically slapping into my bum as she fucked me. "You're fucking gorgeous."
I could only moan, feeling flattered and empowered.
"It's even sexier that it's your first time," she went on, keeping a steady pace. "You're so tight."
I moaned again. God, I wanted this so much.
"So deep inside somewhere even your boyfriend hasn't been..." she said, and I couldn't believe how intense it felt. The combination of her voice, feeling like it was bypassing my ears and sounding straight in my head, and the incredibly strong sensations of the toy moving in and out of me, was turning me on more than anything I'd ever experienced before.
"Take it, take my cock in your ass," Debra kept on, smoothly, evenly, pouring her voice over me. My moans were approaching screams. "Come with my cock inside you."
That was all it took. Incredibly, I could feel my muscles tightening as I orgasmed, just from the feeling of her inside my ass. My clit and my pussy weren't being touched, and the feeling of the orgasm was completely different, more of a whole-body experience, my nerves on fire, rather than orgasms centered on my pussy. I shook all over, barely able to move as Debra kept fucking me, keeping up the pace until I was done, falling forward, the toy sliding out of me as I fell onto the bed, still and panting. I must have laid there for a few minutes, on a completely different planet.
Debra picked me up like a ragdoll. She'd taken the toy off as she lay me across her lap, her thighs soft and pillowy for my head. I looked up at her, vaguely able to take in her gentle smile as she brushed her fingers through my hair, fanning it out behind me and combing it. The sensation was calming and I relaxed, almost forgetting where I was, possibly on the edge of sleep, too.
"Are you okay?" Debra asked, softly, touching my cheek, still combing my hair. I looked up again and nodded, unable to find words. I turned my head slightly and realized that the softness I felt against my forehead was one of her breasts, and we were both on exactly the same wavelength as she leant forward in the same moment I opened my mouth. I sucked her nipple gently, not trying to arouse her like I had done earlier but somehow more to comfort her, and myself. She smiled, still playing with my hair, and watched as I kept sucking, her nipple pressed into my tongue, my nose pressing back into her breast. It felt heavenly, like an incredible, relaxing dream, her warm softness surrounding me. And I think at some point I must have fallen asleep there.
I moved out of my dorm room the following week and had not seen Debra before I left with my parents. We had dinner at a nice restaurant in town; on my usual student budget I wouldn't have even dreamed of eating here. I sat on the polished wooden chair, cutting my way through a potatoes Lyonnaise starter. I couldn't stop thinking about my bum, which still hurt. It was about halfway between a pleasant recently-fucked soreness and actual pain, but it was persistent enough that I couldn't just ignore it.
Every time I thought about it, I thought about Debra. I had been down every avenue of defensive thinking, from trying to blame the
alcohol, to trying to argue that I hadn't actually done anything that was 'really' lesbian. But all arguments led to the same conclusion: I had felt attracted to Debra, she was so feminine and I found that sexy, and we'd had sex. Dirty, amazing, kinky sex. The best sex of my entire life. I still liked guys, so it was the word 'bisexual' that was bouncing around in my head. I knew that eventually it would have to come out.
My phone vibrated in my handbag and, despite not wanting to appear rude at the table, I eased it out of the bag and checked the notification. It was a text from Debra. Although I'd given her my number in the morning before I left, if I ignored her messages I would probably never see her again and I could erase the whole night from my life, just keeping it as a sexy memory. But if I opened the message, I'd be opening the door to that whole side of me I had only just discovered. And that scared me.
But I knew that no matter what I chose, whenever I came across the scent of vanilla, I would always be transported straight back to Debra's room, and those feelings I couldn't pretend I hadn't felt.
I opened the message. “I missed you …” it said.
Alice looked over at me with a smug look, jiggling her leg and holding a plastic cup in one hand. "Ninety!"
"Can't believe it," I told her, sipping my own drink, which was an unidentified rum punch. I could taste pineapple but there was too much alcohol in it and I made a face.
Alice was the smartest girl in my college business course. She was nice enough, but she was obsessed with her grades, and now we'd reached the end of the first year of the course, that was all she wanted to talk about. I was unlucky enough to have sat down next to her when I arrived at the end of term party and she stuck to me all night. I could have recited her full grade transcript.
The party was one of those that was supposed to start with heavy drinking and then move on to a nightclub later, but somehow it had never really got going and I'd spent the past two hours sitting in a college kitchen on an all-expense-spared plastic seat which stuck to my thighs. It was humid and sweaty even though all the windows were open. Even in my shorts and red crop top, I felt too warm.
My dorm room was just about a five minute walk: through two sets of doors, across a courtyard, up a flight of stairs and then two more doors. I could be in bed in less than ten minutes.
"I think I might call it a night," I told Alice, putting my phone down.
"Aw, no! We're supposed to be celebrating!" Alice pouted, grabbing my arm. Her hand was damp from what I hoped was condensation on the side of her cup. "One more drink? Will you get me one?"
I sighed. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all, now that exams were over. One more probably wouldn't hurt.
"Alright, one more," I told her, knowing that she was just enjoying the sound of her own voice. But it was only nine o'clock and going back to my room for an early night did sound a bit depressing.
I got up and pushed my strawberry blonde hair behind my ears. I had been blessed with a fantastic hair color, but absolutely zero volume, so it always hung limply in my face. I took Alice's cup and stepped over to the drinks table, which was further away from the windows and insufferably stuffy. The rum punch was almost untouched, but I ladled us both a cupful, bending down over the table to try not to spill any, and when I straightened up and turned I noticed a girl sitting on one side of the room, staring at me.
She was everything I was not. Thick, voluminous, wavy blonde hair fell over her shoulders in perfectly scattered tresses. She was gorgeously made up, with long mascara-ed eyelashes, pale pink glossy lips and tapered eyebrows, in contrast to my dab of nude lipstick and touch of concealer. My earrings were diamond studs; hers were gold hoops which caught the low light in the kitchen as her head turned ever so slightly. And my slim figure was nothing like her curves. My neat A-cups, tucked beneath my top, were up against what looked like maybe C cups and only half-covered in a jet black sequined dress which was halfway between casual and classy. And out of the bottom of her dress were two toned thighs. She took my breath away.
Our eyes met for a moment and I looked away, feeling unusually embarrassed. I stared furiously at the two cups of punch I'd poured. She was just some other girl at the party - I didn't even recognize her from school. I had no idea why I felt weird about her looking at me. I glanced back over in her direction, trying to come across as casual, and she had turned to talk to her friend sitting next to her, holding a can of premixed vodka at a slight angle. I was trying to work out whether her nails were painted when she looked back at me, our eyes meeting again. I could feel my face getting hot and I grabbed the punch, going back to Alice and not looking back.
"Thanks," Alice said, still bobbing her foot up and down as she took the cup from me. "Do you think next year's marks will be harder to get?"
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I knew I couldn't hang out with her anymore. And I felt unnerved by that girl looking at me and I just wanted to be back in my room.
"I don't think I feel too well," I told Alice, ignoring her comment. "I'm going to go back to my room."
"Do you need me to walk you there?" Alice asked, looking concerned, and I shook my head firmly.
"No, I think the fresh air outside will help. It's too stuffy in here," I explained.
I had to walk past the girl in the black dress to get out of the kitchen, but I forced myself not to look at her. I still didn't know why I felt weird about her. It was probably a kind of insecurity, since she had a beautiful confidence that I didn't have, and at the back of my mind I was worried she was laughing at me or judging me. Something like, “Oh, look over there at that skinny, bony girl.”
The corridor outside the kitchen was a bit cooler, but after going through both sets of doors and into the courtyard, the sharp coolness of the night air hit me, and I felt a lot better. My pace slackened and I looked up at the clear night' sky, a handful of stars visible beyond a light haze, taking a deep breath. Maybe I was more drunk than I realized, even though I'd only had a couple of drinks. There was a lot of rum in them, though.
"Hey," a voice said behind me, and I turned to see the girl walking towards me. Now she was standing up, I was acutely aware of the fact that she was several inches taller than me, although admittedly she was wearing heels and I wasn't.
"Um, hi," I replied, fighting my instinctive shyness. "Sorry about back there."
She smiled slightly and gave me a confused look. "What are you sorry for?" she asked, halting a short distance away from me and
perching herself on the corner of a brick planter.
"I don't know," I admitted, smiling too. "I saw you looking at me, that's all."
"Then it's probably me that should be sorry," she said, bluntly. "Do you want another drink? I nicked these vodkas, that punch was disgusting." She held up two cans she was carrying.
Now I was out of the close atmosphere of the kitchen I felt a bit better, and I sat down on the bricks next to her.
"Cranberry or mango? No, I don't want mango, you'd better have it" she said, reading the flavors off in the semi-darkness before handing one to me. Before I could examine it, she popped open hers and held it up. "Cheers."
"Cheers" I repeated, opening mine and having a drink. It was lukewarm and sweet, but relatively palatable.
"Are you in the business course?" she asked. "I'm Debra, by the way."
"I'm Ellen" I replied, then paused, inexplicably. "Um, yeah, I am in the business course. I don't know why I needed to pause there."
Debra laughed, a loud noise which seemed intrinsically genuine and warm.
"I wondered. I'm friends with Kayla but I do media & art."
"Oh, I did a group project with Kayla before Christmas," I said, but even as I said it, I realized it wasn't very interesting. "I don’t think I’ve seen you before."
"That party wasn't up to much" Debra said. "I thought someone had ordered us an Uber to go into the city but that never seemed to happen. I got all dressed up for nothing."
"You look great," I gushed, and she looked at me, smiling before sipping her drink again.
"Thanks, you look amazing too," she said, sincerely. "I love your hair, although you probably hear that all the time."
I could feel my face getting warm again. "Thanks," I told her, automatically pushing it behind my ear again.
"Love the earrings, too. Understated, very classic," Debra went on, looking at my ear as I pulled my hand away.
I squeezed the can in my hand until the aluminium crinkled. "How do you like doing art?" I asked, to change the subject. I glanced over at her and watched her drain a few mouthfuls from the can in a very unfeminine manner that somehow still looked good on her.
"Yeah, it's great, really. No prospects of employment afterwards, of course, but I love being able to express myself creatively" she told me. "What about you? Loving business?"
I smiled. "My parents wanted me to do it, insisting that over ninety-nine percent of graduates have a job in the field within two years."
"Complete opposite of me. My parents begged me to do anything but art," Debra laughed again. "Kayla is always trying to tell me about her bright ideas on how I could make money."
"It's not all about money, there's a lot of other things in the course," I began, but once again I got the impression that this wasn't sparkling conversation. I somehow just couldn't shake the feeling of being a little in awe of Debra, who seemed totally confident and free of insecurity.
"I suppose," Debra said, tipping up her can again. I watched, hardly aware of how I was staring, as she finished it and looked at me.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she giggled, putting the can down on the ground and flattening it under her heel.
"Sorry, I-" I started, but Debra stopped me.
"How's yours going?" she asked, reaching over and picking up my can. I had managed about two mouthfuls out of it and she wrinkled her nose.
"Oh, come on, I thought you'd be a faster drinker than this," she said, lifting it to her mouth to help out. "Oh, God, no, I was right about the mango. You take it back."
I laughed, then did my best to imitate her and drink half of the can in one go, but I couldn't manage more than a small swallow before
I had to stop.
"Lightweight," Debra teased, taking the can again and drinking. There was something strangely intimate about sharing the can, and when she gave it back I could see a tiny spot of pink lipgloss on the rim. I ignored it, wanting to look cool, and took another drink. The can was rapidly emptying and after we'd passed it back and forth a few more times, Debra poured the final dregs into the plants behind us. For some reason I wasn't sure what to say to her and I just took surreptitious glances at her when I thought she wasn't looking.
"Well, this was fun, Ellen," Debra announced. "I'm going to head back to my room. Want to see it? I'm sure it's probably identical to yours, but you never know."
She looked at me and I felt another hot flush go through me. I wasn't an idiot, I had become vaguely aware over the past few minutes that Debra might be hitting on me, and an invitation back to her room surely wasn't just to watch episodes of Friends and gossip. But being hit on by a girl felt so surreal that I somehow couldn't actually bring myself to believe it was true. And anyway, I actually kind of wanted to go with her, even knowing what the implication of that was. I wasn't a lesbian, I had a boyfriend after all, but there was something about Debra that made me feel differently. A kind of rush of sexual excitement, like taking the first steps on a tightrope. Like I wanted to push this boundary and see if it was really true.
"Um, okay, I suppose looking won't hurt," I told her, and she looked at me again. I wasn't sure if she was taken aback or not, but I got the impression that wasn't the answer she had expected.
Her room was on the opposite side of the courtyard from mine, and she had a top floor room so we had to climb the stairs first. I followed her up the stairs and the sight of her thighs and behind as she climbed sent another shiver of excitement through me. Plus, I could definitely feel the effect of the alcohol by the time we'd arrived at her door and I paused for a second to catch my breath.
"Sorry about the mess," Debra said, unlocking the door. She had been right in that the room was identical to mine: the exact same layout, with mirrored wardrobe, single bed and desk under the window. But she had artworks in various stages of completion scattered about, and her desk was covered in boxes of charcoals and pastels, unlike mine, which was covered in my laptop and textbooks. Debra switched on her bedside lamp, and I noticed the room smelt strongly of vanilla.
"Vanilla, right? The day I moved in, my mother broke a bottle of vanilla essence on the carpet by accident. I cannot get rid of that smell," Debra complained, reading my mind, and I laughed, feeling more at ease. She piled some papers that had been drying on the bed on the desk and I sat down, a little unsure what to expect. The room was bathed in a pale orange glow from the lamp and Debra's plain white bedspread wrinkled under me as I looked over at her. She was standing up, tidying the desk slightly, then she turned and looked down at me. I looked up at her, hesitant, trying to think of the right thing to say. Without saying a word, she stepped over to me, put her hand on my neck and kissed me.
I froze. She tasted of mango vodka and the faint taste of her lip gloss, and I felt her fingers gently sliding through my hair as she pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me, the sequins on her dress brushing over my thighs and my stomach, her hair falling around my face and dimming the room. There was part of me that wanted to stop, thinking fact that a complete stranger was kissing me in her bed. Another part, my erotic part, wanted to keep going, to see where this led. There was something so attractive about the opportunity to kiss and explore Debra. The thought that drove any idea of stopping her clean out of my head was this: Debra was attracted to me. I hadn't had a lot of male attention, and certainly no female attention, over the years and suddenly this gorgeous girl was really into me. I loved it.
So, I unfroze and kissed her back. Debra was forceful but gentle, holding me down on the bed, her body on top of mine, but her hands were soft and her fingernails grazed my scalp as she ran her hands through my hair. Tentatively I put my arms around her neck, my hands on her shoulders, and she made a breathless noise in response, her mouth moving off mine and onto my cheek, my jaw and my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly as she did, shivers running through me until she worked her way back to my mouth, her tongue touching mine with a spark of electricity. Kissing her was so much softer than kissing a guy, and even touching her body was all soft angles and not the hard, bony frame I was used to with guys. And I could feel her bust pressing down into me, which was a novel and somehow welcome sensation.
I felt her hands move from my hair to my neck again, then down to my shoulders, under my arms and down my sides. She pushed her fingers under the bottom of my top and helped it upwards, lifting herself off me to create enough gap for it to stretch over my bra. Breaking the kiss, Debra sat up, straddling me, and pulled the top over my head. It caught my hair and made a mess of it, but before I had time to worry too much about it Debra was kissing me again, her hands back in my hair, smoothing it. I pressed myself back into her, gratefully, and now I could feel her sequins on more of my skin, catching against the lace details on my bra.
With a gentle noise of satisfaction, Debra stopped kissing me again, looked down at me for a moment before getting off me and standing up beside the bed. I stayed where I was lying, confused for a moment, and watched as she reached behind her back and unzipped her dress. It took her a second to get her arms out of the sleeves but when she did, the dress slid down over her hips and onto the floor. She bent down to take off her heels too, and I watched her pair of seamless sheer boyshorts stretch over her beautiful bum. Somehow, I had expected sexy knickers, a thong or something, but the shorts suited her so much more. Her panties were sheer enough that I could see a trimmed blonde bush above her pussy slit. She straightened up and turned to face me, her breasts now contained in her low-cut black bra, and she smiled as I stared.
"Come here," she said gently, her voice low and sexy, and, as if I was under her spell or something, I did as I was told. She was irresistible. I stood up in front of her, our bras an inch from touching, but she knelt down in front of me next, gently easing my feet out of my shoes. Then she traced her fingers up my legs to my shorts, looking up at me, and she reached out to undo them. They fell straight off me, and we were both in our underwear, my bikini knickers and her boy shorts, my bra lacy and hers in black satin.
She stepped towards me, backing me up into the front of the wardrobe and we kissed again, more passionately, the feeling of her bare skin on mine sending a thrill through me. I put my hands in her hair, loving how thick it felt, how it resisted the movement of my fingers and how I could get lost in it. Her hands were on my waist, keeping me in place, before one hand crept over my hip bone and downwards, over the top of my knickers and onto my damp pussy. She applied pressure through the material, making me gasp softly.
My phone buzzed with a text.
"Ignore it," I said as Debra stopped kissing me, a smile playing on her lips.
"Who's texting you this late?" she asked, kissing me in between words, keeping her hand in place. I gently moved my hips to press into her hand. I liked the feel of her hand on my pussy.
"M-my, uh, boyfriend," I stammered, unable to lie as my mind focused completely on where her hand was.
"Are you straight?" she asked, kissing my neck and my collarbone now, her hand still pressing firmly into me. She looked up at me for a moment and we made eye contact.
"I thought I was," I admitted, and Debra's face lit up with a big grin.
"That's so fucking sexy, Ellen," she said, lingering over my name before going back to kissing my lips even more hungrily. Her fingers started rubbing me through my knickers and I moaned for the first time, feeling a flush of embarrassment as I did. But it seemed to encourage Debra and she pushed me harder into the wardrobe, so I relaxed into it. Her touch felt amazingly good, so precise and confident. It only took her a minute to have me moaning over and over, my knees weak, arms wrapped around her to keep my balance. Debra paused just long enough to push my knickers down and then her hand was on my pussy, pushing through my wet lips and finding my clit. I couldn't believe how good this felt: already Debra was taking me to places I never knew existed.
Still holding me up against the wardrobe door, Debra shifted both her hands down between my legs, having to bend her knees slightly to reach as I was shorter than her, even as I strained to stay as upright as possible. With one hand she kept up the pressure on my clit, her fingers expertly establishing a rhythm of movement. With the other, she slipped her fingers over my opening, collecting wetness, and as she moved back to kissing me, firmly and sexily, she eased a finger inside me. She was gentle, taking a few seconds to slowly work her finger inside, but the sensation was exquisite. Standing up, I felt as if my whole weight was pushing me down onto her finger, and when she curled it inside me, combined with rubbing my clit, I was moaning into her mouth and my thighs began to shake. Both of her hands synchronized their movements now, my eyes squeezed shut, and after a few minutes I dimly became aware that she'd pushed a second finger inside me, moving fluidly between pressing on my g spot and pushing her fingers in and out of me, firmly and quickly.
I tried to shift my weight and realized she was holding me up with her hands, my feet barely touched the carpet. I buried my face in her neck, her hair enveloping me, breathing the scent of her shampoo as she kept fingering me. My nipples ached in my bra, and ordinarily I would have felt overwhelmed and asked my lover to stop, but I was under Debra’s erotic spell and I couldn't bring myself to make any noise other than those of pleasure. When I did finally feel my first orgasm wash over me, just a little one, enough to make my body tense and my teeth dig into Debra, she slowly slackened her pace and lowered me gently to the floor.
Gasping for breath, it dawned on me that for the first time another girl had made me come, and not only did it seem almost effortless,
I felt sensations that I had never felt before. The mirror of the wardrobe was suddenly cold on my back and I looked at Debra, preparing to say something about how good that had felt, but as my mouth opened, she gently pushed a finger against my lips, quieting me. There was a faint taste of my come on her finger and she looked at me for a moment, her confident eyes gazing at my wide, wondering ones.
"I'm not finished, yet" Debra whispered, but her voice sounded loud in the quiet room, only filled with my shallow breaths. She flashed me another grin and, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, she dropped to her knees in front of me. I stared down at her, uncomprehending right up until the moment she moved her face forward and I felt the first touch of her hot tongue on my clit.
It was like an explosion of sensations. I was already sensitive from the fingering earlier, and the slick, wet surface of her tongue, pressing firmly onto me, pushed me straight through a wall of resistance and into a different world. I had no time to think, only to feel. She slid one of her fingers back into me, meeting her tiny licks with pressure from the finger, and I realized with a moment of slight panic that my vision was full of dancing spots. I wobbled briefly on the spot, but Debra reached her free hand up, sliding her damp fingers over my tummy and my ribs until they reached my bra. She held her hand there, my nipple in the center of her palm under the fabric, and pushed me firmly into the wardrobe, keeping my balance as she went back to focusing on my pussy. It was heavenly. I tilted my head back, hard against the mirror, my hair crunching whenever I moved, but I barely noticed it as the rushes of warm arousal rose from between my legs.
One of my hands grabbed the wardrobe door handle, squeezing it for dear life, and the other I slid into Debra's hair, gently guiding her tongue to an even more divine spot, not that she really needed it. It was more for the touch of her gorgeous hair, feeling it in my fingers, the warmth of it. Somehow it was both comforting and arousing to touch her there, the tiny movements of her head conveying up through my hand and my arm as I felt them on my clit. I was awash with pleasure and whenever my body moved, it was counteracted by Debra's powerful, firm hand on my chest, shivers of sensation going through my nipple as it rubbed on the fabric.
"Oh, fuck," I moaned out, her finger inside me pushed in and out fast and hard, in time with the movements and swirls of her tongue. I could feel another orgasm coming, this one more intense, and I curled up my fingers in her hair, eyes shut, feeling it approach closer and closer. Debra didn't pause for a moment and pushed me, no, drove me across the edge. I came hard, my body shaking again, my back locking in place. The room was full of my moans, and when I finally felt the orgasm subsiding, I wondered briefly whether the students in the next-door rooms could hear me. And then, as relaxed as I felt, I started to wonder whether Debra often brought people back to her room and made them feel like this, and she must have sensed my sudden nervousness because she slowly withdrew from me and stood up.
"Don't overthink it," she advised, gently, kissing me once, lightly. Her lips were gone almost as soon as they'd arrived. My legs gingerly took my weight as I stood away from the wardrobe, my thighs wet as they touched together for the first time in what felt like hours but must have been minutes. Debra stood in front of me, smiling as she reached behind her back and undid her bra. Her breasts were beautiful. She had big areolas ringing her nipples, which were thick and erect but not as big as mine. Without the support of the bra, they moved easily when she moved, dominating the top half of her body. I was used to looking at my pink, poky nipples in the mirror, and it was a thrill to see the contrast of her body in front of me. We moved close together and kissed again, her boobs pressing into me.
Our making out got more intense again, standing in the middle of the room, her hands on my waist and my hips as I held her shoulders, loving the touch of her soft, smooth skin under my fingertips. I kissed her cheekbone and then her jaw, under her ear, and I felt soft pressure on my hips from her hands, moving me downward. I moved down her neck, alternating between kisses and gentle licks, but as I crossed her shoulder I felt a sudden rush of panic. I was kissing the top of her cleavage now and in a few seconds I'd be kissing and licking another girl's breasts. Did I want to? Was I ready? Somehow, mentally, Debra fingering me and licking me hadn't felt... well, hadn't felt like I was actually having lesbian sex. But feeling her nipple against my lips definitely would feel like that.
Her breast was soft as I kissed the top of it, her cleavage warm and slightly damp from sweat. I was agonizing over whether to take this next step and I hesitated, no longer moving downwards but circling her cleavage, furiously trying to decide what to do. At first Debra didn't respond, except to increase the gentle downward pressure on my hips, but after a few more seconds she stepped back, her hands moving up to my shoulders, and I straightened up, looking at her, embarrassed at my indecisiveness.
"Take the dive, Ellen" she said, confidently, reaching up to one of her breasts and cupping it in her hand, She held my shoulder tightly, pulling me, moving her fingers around and under my curtain of hair, holding the top of my neck. In a second she would put my mouth on her nipple; I licked, then sucked. She moaned softly, a satisfied noise, and I used my lips to squeeze her nipple gently. I had no idea how I should be doing this, but she kept my head in place and I licked again, my body responding with a sudden shudder of excitement when I realized I was really licking another woman's nipple. I sucked again, a little harder, and she dug her fingers into my neck. It was gentle, but I tensed up, suddenly unsure, licking half-heartedly. Debra released her grip, her breast moving away from me, and she looked at me.
"It's okay," she reassured me as I felt a flush of shame and inadequacy. "First times can be tough. I have an idea, though."
She took my hand, a gesture I found surprisingly intimate, and squeezed it gently as she led me over to the bed. I sat down on the edge, the bedclothes suddenly cool against my thighs, and she stood in front of me.
"Close your eyes. I promise it'll be okay," she said, making eye contact. I nodded and closed them, then immediately opened them again, and Debra laughed.
"Closed. You'll love it, I promise," she reassured me, and this time I closed them and covered them with my fingers.
I heard her going in a drawer and then some moving around, fabric rustling, and I imagined she might be putting on some different underwear or maybe getting a blindfold or something. My eyes shot open when I felt her sit next to me, but my fingers covered them so I couldn't see anything.
"Open," she commanded, and when I did, I looked over to see her sitting there, still topless, still smiling, but with a strap-on attached over the top of her boyshorts. It was bright pink, smooth and matte, and to my slight relief it wasn't particularly large. Debra reached over and took my hand again, squeezing my fingers softly, then put my hand on the toy.
"You've done this before, right?" she asked, breathily, kissing my cheek. My fingers wrapped around the shaft. Weirdly, she was right - this did make me feel more comfortable. I knew what to do with a cock. I started stroking gently, my fingers slipping over the soft plastic material, and when I pushed down, towards her, I felt Debra push back gently, her breaths getting faster, and I guessed that the base of the toy was pressing into her clit. I started to stroke a little faster, but it wasn't as easy to rub as a real cock and I had to slow down again to stop the cock from jerking and bouncing around.
Debra kissed me deeply, her tongue moving over mine, her lips pressing into me, and then she pulled back and gave me a sexy look that almost melted me.
"Get on all fours," she said, a tone of firmness entering her voice that I hadn't heard yet. "I want to fuck you."
I didn't want to disobey. I was already on the bed, facing the mirror, spreading my thighs to get my balance right, when I actually realized what the implications were. As Debra moved into position behind me, she could see my pussy and my bum on display in front of her. I was anxious for her to put her cock inside me and fuck me. Any time to think about what I wanted was lost as the tip of her cock pressed up against me, my hips pushed back to provide resistance. I looked up at the mirror and Debra was looking down at her cock, getting it into the right place, and then pushing herself forward. The toy entered me easily, making me gasp softly and then moan. It did not feel the same as a guy's cock, which was bigger, hotter and softer, but the hardness of the plastic had an interesting feeling of its own.
Spreading my thighs a little wider I prepared for her to push in deeper, but I felt Debra's hands on my hips, pulling me back upwards. I leaned forward, my arms collapsing and my head and neck pressing into the soft bed, my hips and bum up high for her, and she pushed all the way into me. My moans were muffled by the bed now, but as she began to build up a rhythm I could hear her moans loud and clear. All I could think was this: a girl is fucking me. Another girl is fucking me. I'm being fucked by a girl. In the mirror I could see Debra's tits bouncing as she pushed into me, still gripping my hips for leverage, her nipples hard and casting tiny shadows..
"Fuck, good girl," Debra said, between moans, pushing harder into me. I moaned back, gripping the bedclothes even harder. "You're so good at taking cock."
I had never had a lover use any kind of dirty talk. Our lovemaking had a soundtrack of moans, grunts and sometimes the radio if we were trying not to be overheard. A rush of embarrassment went through me again as I didn't really know how to respond.
Debra seemed to realize this and prompted me. "Tell me what you're doing," she said, that note of firmness still in her words.
"I’m getting fucked … Taking a cock," I replied, in a small voice.
"Taking whose cock?"
"Yours."
"You're taking another girl's cock."
That made me moan. I hadn't realized dirty talk could physically turn me on like this. Debra grinned at me in the mirror.
"You like that?" she asked, speeding up again. "You like it when I fuck you?"
I nodded, my hair falling over my face as I tried to push my hips back, feeling incredibly wet, now.
"Ellen, look at me," Debra said, and I pushed my hair out of my face, meeting her eyes in the mirror. I could see my tits rocking back and forth as Debra fucked me. God, the sight was so erotic.
"I'm going to fuck you until you come."
What surprised me the most was how much I loved it. At that moment I wanted nothing more in the entire world than to be Debra's lover. To take her cock, to get fucked by her, to do whatever she told me to. She owned me, mind and body. I gasped, moaned, and felt her slapping into me from behind even harder, the toy driving deep into me.
"Yes," I replied, wishing my voice wasn't as weak as it was.
"Take it," Debra said, without a pause.
"Yes," I said again, moaning the word this time. I couldn't believe how turned on this was making me. It was like a whole side of me I'd never known existed.
I felt Debra pushing into me fast and hard, her hips driving into me, and I pushed back, knowing that she was grinding herself on the toy as she did it. She started to look a little flustered in the mirror, her cheeks getting some color, one of her hands letting go of my hips for a second to squeeze her own breast, pulling on her nipple as she moaned, breathlessly. I stayed in place, pushing back hard, driving my hips back onto her, wanting her to come.
"I want you to come," I had said, almost without realizing it, vocalizing my thoughts perfectly.
Debra responded by moaning louder. "Yes, I'm so close," she said, any semblance of a whisper long gone.
I couldn't believe I wanted another girl to use my body to make herself come, and I definitely couldn't believe how okay I felt with it. I loved it. I wanted it so much. I stayed in place, letting her keep up her rhythm, her fingernails digging hard into my hips as she leant forwards and rode me through her orgasm, the toy pounding deep into me each time. I wanted to look in the mirror and watch her, but the force of the fucking had pushed my head back into the bedclothes and my noises were muffled again.
She slowed, then stopped, pushed all the way inside me. I felt dizzy and took a couple of deep breaths, a little unsteady, and Debra gently released her grip on me, the spots her fingernails were leaving lingering spots of gentle pain. She slid back out of me and I moaned one last time, prepared to collapse down onto the bed, eyes fluttering closed, but Debra held me gently in place. Then my eyes shot as wide open as they had ever been when I felt the slick tip of the toy press firmly against my rosebud.
"Just take it," Debra said, soothingly but still firmly, pressing harder.
"I’ve never ---" I said, urgently.
"I want to take your virginity, Ellen," Debra replied, firmer and soothing now. "Be a good girl and say yes."
This was not how I had imagined things. No guy had never shown more than a passing interest in my ass and I figured maybe one day I would try it. But now the toy was pressing hard into me and as tight as I was, the toy was wet enough and it would slip inside me any moment if I didn't stop her.
But, I realized with a rush, I didn't want to stop her. I wanted to be her to do me and if that meant taking her up my ass then I wanted to do it.
"Yes," I breathed, relaxing, and in the same moment the toy moved past my resistance and went inside. It hurt a little as it stretched me, a sudden, sharp burning sensation, and I let out a quiet cry. Debra went slowly but didn't relent, the toy inching its length into my tightness, the burning distracting me from anything else until I felt Debra's thighs press into me. Okay, she was all the way inside. At least it couldn't get any more intense than this moment. She pulled back and I felt relief, and then she pushed back in, and this time my nerves gave way to a satisfied fullness. Having her deep inside me actually felt good, in a way, although my bum still hurt. She started going faster and I bit down on the bedclothes, her hands gripping my hips again, and as she began to really fuck me. I realized that the burning sensation was melting away. First the edges went, then it shrank to just a point of pain, then it was gone.
And, incredibly, what I was feeling in its place was pure pleasure.
"I wanted to fuck your ass since the moment I saw you at the party," Debra said in a steady voice, her thighs rhythmically slapping into my bum as she fucked me. "You're fucking gorgeous."
I could only moan, feeling flattered and empowered.
"It's even sexier that it's your first time," she went on, keeping a steady pace. "You're so tight."
I moaned again. God, I wanted this so much.
"So deep inside somewhere even your boyfriend hasn't been..." she said, and I couldn't believe how intense it felt. The combination of her voice, feeling like it was bypassing my ears and sounding straight in my head, and the incredibly strong sensations of the toy moving in and out of me, was turning me on more than anything I'd ever experienced before.
"Take it, take my cock in your ass," Debra kept on, smoothly, evenly, pouring her voice over me. My moans were approaching screams. "Come with my cock inside you."
That was all it took. Incredibly, I could feel my muscles tightening as I orgasmed, just from the feeling of her inside my ass. My clit and my pussy weren't being touched, and the feeling of the orgasm was completely different, more of a whole-body experience, my nerves on fire, rather than orgasms centered on my pussy. I shook all over, barely able to move as Debra kept fucking me, keeping up the pace until I was done, falling forward, the toy sliding out of me as I fell onto the bed, still and panting. I must have laid there for a few minutes, on a completely different planet.
Debra picked me up like a ragdoll. She'd taken the toy off as she lay me across her lap, her thighs soft and pillowy for my head. I looked up at her, vaguely able to take in her gentle smile as she brushed her fingers through my hair, fanning it out behind me and combing it. The sensation was calming and I relaxed, almost forgetting where I was, possibly on the edge of sleep, too.
"Are you okay?" Debra asked, softly, touching my cheek, still combing my hair. I looked up again and nodded, unable to find words. I turned my head slightly and realized that the softness I felt against my forehead was one of her breasts, and we were both on exactly the same wavelength as she leant forward in the same moment I opened my mouth. I sucked her nipple gently, not trying to arouse her like I had done earlier but somehow more to comfort her, and myself. She smiled, still playing with my hair, and watched as I kept sucking, her nipple pressed into my tongue, my nose pressing back into her breast. It felt heavenly, like an incredible, relaxing dream, her warm softness surrounding me. And I think at some point I must have fallen asleep there.
I moved out of my dorm room the following week and had not seen Debra before I left with my parents. We had dinner at a nice restaurant in town; on my usual student budget I wouldn't have even dreamed of eating here. I sat on the polished wooden chair, cutting my way through a potatoes Lyonnaise starter. I couldn't stop thinking about my bum, which still hurt. It was about halfway between a pleasant recently-fucked soreness and actual pain, but it was persistent enough that I couldn't just ignore it.
Every time I thought about it, I thought about Debra. I had been down every avenue of defensive thinking, from trying to blame the
alcohol, to trying to argue that I hadn't actually done anything that was 'really' lesbian. But all arguments led to the same conclusion: I had felt attracted to Debra, she was so feminine and I found that sexy, and we'd had sex. Dirty, amazing, kinky sex. The best sex of my entire life. I still liked guys, so it was the word 'bisexual' that was bouncing around in my head. I knew that eventually it would have to come out.
My phone vibrated in my handbag and, despite not wanting to appear rude at the table, I eased it out of the bag and checked the notification. It was a text from Debra. Although I'd given her my number in the morning before I left, if I ignored her messages I would probably never see her again and I could erase the whole night from my life, just keeping it as a sexy memory. But if I opened the message, I'd be opening the door to that whole side of me I had only just discovered. And that scared me.
But I knew that no matter what I chose, whenever I came across the scent of vanilla, I would always be transported straight back to Debra's room, and those feelings I couldn't pretend I hadn't felt.
I opened the message. “I missed you …” it said.
21 days ago
