Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: lali02@interserv.com
Subject: Two Women
Date: 9 Sep 1995 21:49:15 GMT

			      Two Women

	It started when I was in junior high school.

	One day, as I was sitting in the back of the classroom during
study hall, I began to daydream about one of the older boys in the
school. Unconsciously, my hand drifted under my skirt, and my fingers
were lightly rubbing the edge of the elastic of my panties.

	Vickie's voice, from the seat behind me, was startling when
she whispered, "Oh, Barb, isn't that lovely."

	"Shut up! Someone might hear you!"

	"Don't worry, No one is paying any attention." Then Vickie's
hand was suddenly under my skirt, feeling the location of my fingers.
She squeezed my hand, and her hand drifted slowly, gently upward.

	"Where is it?"

	Her fingers generated marvelous feelings as they caressed my
pubic mound. But, all too soon, the bell rang and it was time to
leave. Confused, I tried to avoid her as we left school, but she
caught up to me and walked beside me.

	"I can make it feel really good," she said in a hoarse voice,
as we walked side by side. Frankly, my knees were weak, and my mind
whirled with plans for letting her prove her ability.

	Although I hadn't paid much attention to her before, I began
to treat Vickie as a best friend.

	Just a few days later, we were playing after school in her
back yard. Her house was the same as the others in the neighborhood,
but her back yard was very deep - it actually extended the length of
two or more of the ordinary back yards. And there was a grove of
about a half dozen pine trees that surrounded a cool, dark glade. In
that glade, I felt completely isolated from the rest of the world.

	We were doing something - I can't recall what - then I felt
her presence behind me, and her warm breath in my ear, as she
whispered, "I'd like to make you feel good."

	Her arms went around my waist, and she kissed me, or licked me
- I don't know - on the nape of my neck. It would sound icky to a
young girl, but it felt - well it felt nice. Very nice.

	How hot she seemed as her lips caressed my neck - and how
natural it seemed as she pulled my arms upward, and lifted my shirt
off in a fluid motion. Her hand rubbed the surface of my "teen" bra,
and focused pressure on my right nipple. My breasts were still
conical, just developing, but her rubbing showed me for the first time
just how sensitive my nipples could be.

	There was nothing that I could do except to revel in the
feelings that she was giving me. I felt warm and a little dizzy, and
leaned back to her.

	She continued to nuzzle me, and with both hands she kneaded my
breasts. For the first time, I felt a warmth between my thighs.

	With the tips of the fingers of her left hand, she began to
rub up and down my bare belly. Her fingers moved gently down the front
of my skirt, grazing the top of my pubic mound. The feelings were
indescribably intense, and I was so wrapped up in them that I didn't
even notice when she unclasped my bra, unzipped my skirt and let both
garments drop to the ground.

	She gently pulled me backwards, until I was sitting in her
lap, as she sat down on the ground.

	As we sat, she continued to nuzzle, continued to rub, until I
had my first orgasm in her arms.

	Later, she and I had many lovely times together. She taught me
about my body, and made me love her. I can't even begin to explain
what she taught me.

	However, our times together were soon over. When I began high
school, she family moved away, and, although we wrote to each other at
first, we eventually lost contact with each other.

	In high school, I never made contact with another girl like I
had with Vickie. At first, it was because I mourned my lost love.
Later, it was because I was afraid to make such a contact with any of
the other girls. I had no way of telling which of them would be
interested in such games, and feared that if I approached the wrong
girl, that she would spread the word that I was 'strange'.

	However, I did discover that the making of love with boys and,
later, men could be quite pleasurable as well. Although, and perhaps
it was just the memory of my first time of feeling the wonder of sex,
I never found a man who could satisfy me in the same way as Vickie. As
a result, through my late twenties I was my own woman. I never
married, and I developed a rather successful career. I dated, and made
love with a few men - some of them were nice, but none of them were
'right'.

	I first saw her at the office. Her breasts and legs caught my
attention as she parked her round, lovely bottom against a corridor
wall as we talked. I don't believe that she noticed as I gazed at the
long stretch of her thighs underneath the hem of her skirt. We
frequently talked, and became office friends - often eating lunch
together.

	I don't know if I mentioned that she was married. Our
conversations would often turn to married life, and sometimes to her
sex life. I discovered, for example, that her husband was a very
conservative lover. She loved him, but would have been happier if he
would loosen up and include such things as mutual masturbation and
oral sex in their lovemaking routine.

	It was perhaps a month or two later that she, in some way,
recognized my attraction to her. Her reaction was in the form of
teasing and joking. We never discussed getting closer, and I never
broached the subject of woman-to-woman love. However, she was aware of
my attraction, and, I suppose you'd say that she took advantage of it
for her own amusement.

	For example, one day when I brought some paperwork to her at
her desk, she swung her knees around against my leg and began rubbing
me with methodical strokes, watching my eyes steadily with a slight,
mocking smile.

	I don't know what she was seeing in my eyes. Perhaps my pupils
dilated. Perhaps there was some sort of softness that she could
detect. She saw something, though, and laughed out loud, showing the
tiniest tip of shiny tongue between her pink lips and wet, white
teeth. I felt a strong tug of affection for her at that moment, and a
lovely warmth in my loins.

	She had a fondness for sheer, silky blouses. When she wore
one, it gave me the urge to put my hands on her shoulders and
delicately caress the place where her bra straps were visible through
the fabric. When she wore a sweater, I felt an overwhelming desire to
run my hands under it, and to squeeze her lovely, round breasts.

	Later - whether she started it or I, I don't know - we
developed a game. First, it started with light, though sexy, banter. I
would comment, for example, on the color of her pantyhose and ask her
to pull up the hem of her dress so that I could see them better. She
would say "No, your stockings are nicer, why not pull up your dress?"

	Then, it gradually became more physical. We would meet in
various quiet corners of the building, and she would lean back against
me, gently rubbing her bottom against my mound. Sometimes, she would
turn around and give me a quick peck on the lips - once or twice, the
kisses were deeper. But always, she would break away after a few
moments, straighten her dress and leave me to dream of her lips and
her body.

	Then, she got pregnant with her first child. This caused a
change in our relationship. I believe part of it was that her husband
wouldn't sexually satisfy her because of her pregnancy - but the
result was to my benefit, because our necking sessions at work became
more involved, and lasted longer. She seemed to find it harder to
break away after a brief touch or kiss, and she and I would often hug,
kiss deeply and fondle each other through our clothing. In fact, she
seemed to become frustrated, since we dared not do anything that
lasted more than a couple of minutes for fear of being discovered. I
craved her - but would only take our relationship as far as she
wanted.

	A few months into her pregnancy, I moved from my old place to
an apartment which just "happened" to be a block from her house. This
meant that it became very convenient for us to carpool together. We
spent ever more time together, and I eventually would spend evenings
at her home, both when her husband was present, and when he was away
on a business trip. When her husband was away, we would play. At
first, we behaved like teenagers - we sat on the couch and necked,
then, after a while, we would pet.

	She complained of backaches as her body grew larger - so I
read all the books I could find, and learned to give a skilled
massage. This meant that I could see her naked, as she would lie on
her bed, and I would massage her aching muscles.

	Soon, we both would wind up naked, and we would kiss, and
cuddle and would either masturbate each other, or watch each other as
we masturbated ourselves. I don't believe that she started out as
skilled at pleasuring another woman as Vickie was, but we learned
together, and could give each other the greatest of pleasure.

	Once, she took me as I was sitting down. I was sitting on the
couch, and she sat before me on the floor. Her hand reached under my
skirt, her fingers entering my womanhood. She crouched on the floor
next to me, her hand searching, moving, feeling within me. It felt so
strange, to sit quietly, hands folded across my breasts, her arm
extended up inside me - my legs spread far apart.

	Sitting still, maintaining myself through the pure ecstasy of
her explorations: her little touches, her experiments, her caresses,
her attacks. Those long fingers plunging into me, then withdrawing to
move around my nether lips - the bud of my clitoris at first erect and
swollen, then withdrawing into the engorged nest. She rose, her
fingers still in place, her mouth seeking mine. Our tongues crowding
into each other, the one seeking the other, pleading and prodding.

	I opened for her, whispering in her ear as she massaged the
inner ridge of flesh, wrung it and made it come like rain, the honey
weeping on her hand - my ecstasy telling her that I was hers.
Surrendering with each gush of that pink and hidden place.

	She sat next to me, and we kissed. As we kissed, I removed her
housecoat - she wore nothing underneath except a pair of thin, silky
panties. I kissed her mouth, her neck, then spent time kissing and
licking and sucking on her lovely breast - now swollen with her
pregnancy. I kissed my way down her front, and moved myself forward
until I could reach her panties. I began to lick at her through the
thin barrier of the fabric, and her hands flew to my head, stroking my
ears, her open mouth making small cries as the tension built.

	I moved aside the sopping nylon and buried my face against
her. Her nails grazed my back, as her legs jerked convulsively upward.
Her ankles locked against my spine. I moved slightly upward to her
center, sucked in into my mouth. Her loins rolled upward in powerful
thrusts as she cried out, my tongue and lips constantly moving until I
felt her shuddering against me, heard her scream, the tenseness
dissolving out of her.