| I Kissed a Girl, Chapter 1 Michelle carried the last of the boxes up to her room, the ones they'd brought in the car with the U-haul trailer dragging behind. The movers had already brought all the furniture in and were finishing up assembling her parent's bed. She was feeling kinda grubby after the long car ride and had worked up a bit of a sweat making five or six trips up and down the stairs of their new house. Looking around her new boudoir she thought, 'I'm gonna like it here.' There was a door from her room into the main bathroom, which also had a door from the hall. The fourteen year old cutie went over and locked the public access door. 'That can stay locked permanently' she decided. Her parents had their own four piece bath and there was a three piece powder room downstairs off the entry hall. 'There's no need for anyone to use this but me' she stripped her grungy T shirt over her head basking in the luxury of having her own bathroom. The cargo shorts joined the T on the floor. She vaguely wondered where the laundry hamper was but realized that she didn't actually care. After slipping the shoulder straps of her sensible cotton bra off she spun the cups around to the back and unfastened the fairly new underwear letting it join her other clothes on the floor. When the white panties joined the pile she was ready to test out her new shower. The small box in the corner had all the bath products in it. Finding the shower gel was easy, the shampoo and conditioner took a bit of digging. She folded the three bottles against her little boobie to grab her yellow bath puff. The plastic was cold and made her dark little nipple pucker, which in turn sent that thrilling pulse down between her legs. Michelle stifled a squeal as she clutched the shower essentials to her breast and deposited them on the shelf inside the semicircular stall. Returning to the larger box on the floor—the one with the linens in it—she had no trouble finding a bath towel which she hung on the bar next to the tub. The single handle valve made adjusting the water temperature very easy. When she was satisfied she ducked into the cubical and under the warm relaxing spray. With her head back in the torrent of warm water she felt not only the grit from the move wash away but the tension that she'd been feeling as well. Her shoulder length medium blonde hair was immediately saturated and hung in strings with the water flowing through it. She actually thought that the timing of the move was kind of good. School would start in two weeks and she'd be a high school freshman. Even if they'd stayed where they were—not moved—she'd have been going to a new school with lots of new people. Either way her classmates would be in the same boat as her, everything new, and low man on the social totem pole. The floral flower gel on the puff made copious lather as she worked it around her face and neck. When the stiff crinkled yellow plastic traveled over her breasts and brushed her nipples, that queasy sort of nervous feeling started in her tummy. But it wasn't really her tummy—was it? No it was lower than that. It happened almost every time now. She looked down to confirm what she already knew; that the little peg in the center of the silver dollar sized circle on the front of her boobies was poking straight out. It was just like they did when they got cold. She'd taken to wearing a bra most of the time now because it helped to hide them. She worked the puff down over her belly and thighs, skipping the soggy wisps of blonde hair that had recently appeared between her legs. The white foamy lather coated her slender coltish legs only briefly before the cascading water washed it down the drain. Rubbing the scratchy bath puff on her hynie gave her a similar but milder version of the feeling she got from her breasts. She never used the bathing puff between her legs. Squeezing a blob of the bath gel onto her fingers she applied the cold slippery soap to her warm plump vulva. That indescribable warm feeling flowed up from her core until it reached her head, making it spin. Her fingers worked around cleansing and exploring. It felt different every day, fuller; and somehow there was just more of it. Michelle couldn't decide if the feel of her fingers on her girlhood, or the feel of her girlhood on her fingers was more intoxicating. She wasn't sure why but those feelings always embarrassed her. Some part of her wanted to go on exploring and feeling but she always stopped before the funny nervous feeling got too strong. When that happened her legs got weak and it was hard to stand up. Once, a couple of weeks ago, she'd been in the tub and she'd taken her dad's shaving mirror to have a look. When she saw how plump and fleshy she was, she'd pulled the thick part open and looked inside. She got such a rush that she nearly dropped the mirror. Seeing it, touching it and feeling it all at the same time was too much and it scared her. Even so she had to wash herself down there—didn't she? Michelle convinced herself that she wasn't playing with it as she applied more soap. It was only a couple of weeks since she'd peeked at her pussy but she was sure that the inner part was sticking out a bit more now. 'I'm sure I couldn't see any of the inside stuff sticking out before' she recalled the ill-fated episode with the mirror. The feeling was getting too strong. She scooped water falling from the shower head and thoroughly rinsed her pubic region with big splashes. She wasn't cold but she was shivering when she got out of the shower, wrapped herself in the bath sheet and started to rub herself dry. The bathroom window looked out over the backyard. There glistening and gleaming was the object of her dreams ever since her parents had told her about the new house; her very own swimming pool. She could hardly wait. Out of the corner of her eye she caught signs of movement. Turning her head she found she was looking down into their neighbor's yard. The pool next door actually looked a little bigger. Beside the pool was a girl, or a young woman, at this range it was hard to tell. It was the female in the next yard skimming the pool with the long handled net that had caught her attention. What could be seen from the second floor window were the long yellow blonde hair and a yellow suit that looked ... well ... antique. The bottoms came up to the pool skimmer's navel and they had a sort of ruffle on them—almost like a tiny little skirt. The top was equally modest and completely covered what were still obviously very substantial breasts. Pulling the bath sheet tighter around her, Michelle felt the shivering start again—the shivering and the pleasant fluttery feeling low down below her abdomen. She didn't really know why she had that reaction for sure; 'I think maybe it's because she doesn't know that I'm watching her.' Getting completely dry wasn't a priority since she was going to jump in the pool as soon as possible. She'd made sure that her bathing suit was right on top of the suit case where her everyday clothes were packed so that they'd be handy until everything was put away. The pink two piece suit was getting a bit small and Michelle made a mental note to check out new ones next time she was at the mall. Bounding down the stairs, beach towel in hand the fourteen year old cutie found her mother in the kitchen washing and putting away dishes. A sudden attack of responsibility stopped her in her tracks. "Do ya want some help with that mom," she asked praying for deliverance. Her mother looked over her shoulder and spoke the blessed words, "No it's OK honey ... you go out and enjoy the afternoon. It won't be long before you're back in school ... gotta squeeze the most out of what's left of the summer." She went over and gave her mom a gentle kiss on the cheek. 'If she hadn't mentioned school that would have been the perfect answer!' Out through the patio doors of the family room, she dropped the towel at the edge of the pool deck and executed a smooth dive into the still blue water. The water was surprisingly cool on her fresh from the shower skin but it felt wonderful. 'This is heaven!' she was thinking as she swam length after length. She noticed her dad bring the patio furniture from the garage and set it up on the deck. They waved to each other and exchanged huge smiles. The next time she looked up he was nowhere to be seen. She tired out faster than she would have thought—mainly her legs; 'All that up and downstairs, moving stuff to my room, ' Michelle deduced. She was on the lounge soaking up the late afternoon sun when her mother arrived with two other people. The youngster shielded her eyes and found that she was looking at two spectacular blonde women standing beside the lounge. "Michelle this is missus Spencer and her daughter Rebecca from next door." "Nice to meet you" all three of them said over top of one another. The daughter was wearing the old fashioned yellow sun suit that had caught the lounging teenager's eye from the bathroom window. Up close it looked even more demur. What surprised Michelle was that, as modest as the suit was it could not disguise the rocket nose cones of the younger woman's breasts. They stood out like twin dunce caps from her chest. For reasons the fourteen year old preferred not to think about, the sight caused that fluttery feeling in her tummy again. She was unable to ascertain much about missus Spencer's figure. She wore a nice floral print dress but it was so baggy and ill fitting that it looked like a cocoon. "The Spenser's have invited us over for dinner ... isn't that wonderful" Michelle's mother was positively gushing. "Here I was trying to find a phone book so I could order pizza or some other take out junk." The girl on the lounge made agreeable noises but realized, to her embarrassment, that Rebecca was ogling her in her too small pink two piece suit. She wondered for a brief chilling moment if the fact that the inner parts of her coochie now protruded was visible through the tight crotch of the wet suit. "Well we'd better get going" the older neighbor chimed in. "I've got a few things to get ready ... see you around seven then?" 'Rescued!' Michelle looked up at her beaming mother who was saying; "You'll never know how much we appreciate this Maryann" "Didn't I tell you it's your turn next week" missus Spencer quipped and took her daughter by the arm. The mothers laughed and the neighbors exited through the high privacy fence gate. Michelle was encouraged to, "get dressed up" for the impromptu dinner party. She had to get deep into the clothing transport wardrobe to find a suitable dress. Not only was the black and white abstract print not one of her favorites, but it was too small in the top which drew even more attention to her developing bust. Nevertheless given that they weren't completely unpacked and that time was of the essence, maybe it wasn't that bad. What was bad was the fact that her legs felt like blocks of stone—but achy blocks of stone. The roast chicken with some kind of a sweet mustard glaze was quite delicious. Dinner conversation was boring to the teenagers. There was a sadness that cast a pall on the gathering when it was revealed that missus Spencer was a widow. The subject was too somber for the get acquainted dinner and was quickly put aside. Rebecca asked to be excused as soon as she'd helped clear the last of the plates. "Can I show Michelle my room?" she asked in a timid sounding voice. Michelle, equally anxious to get away from the grown-ups held her breath. Missus Spencer looked at the girls as if she had reservations and then said, "Of course dear ... we'll call you when we're ready for desert." Rebecca's mother didn't know why a vision of the novice who'd been her mentor at boarding school flashed in her mind. She hadn't thought of Teresa in years, and the memory of their brief relationship popping up now made her uncomfortable. Like a jail-break the teenagers hustled down the hall away from the monotonous getting to know you grown up talk. As soon as they were in her room Rebecca flopped on the bed and shrieked, "Oh my God ... one more second and I swear I'd have gone out of my mind!" Her knit top and pleated skirt were conservatively cut, but when she unceremoniously deposited herself on the bed the contours of her body shone through in spite of the chaste wardrobe. With her hands above her head—actually her fingers were running through the silky blonde tresses—her rocket nose cones stood skyward like they were twin shuttles on the launch pad. Meanwhile the knee length pleated plaid skirt flipped up revealing magnificent slender thighs more than halfway to ... Michelle stood just inside the bedroom door looking at her neighbor on the bed, but in some ways she was seeing the woman at long range in the out-of-style sun suit skimming the pool. The twitch that she felt between her legs took her completely by surprise. "Come over here sweetie and tell me your story" the temptress on the bed suggested, patting the space beside her. Michelle had no idea; A) what she was talking about— her story? and B) how she could be so different when she wasn't around her mom. In spite of her confusion she sat on the bed beside her new neighbor feeling quite uncomfortable. Last things first; "You're so different than you were at dinner and ... and earlier by the pool" the younger girl made a statement and hoped that her host would somehow interpret it as a question. "Yeah my mom is so fuckin' uptight ... Catholic ya know" she spat the religious affiliation out as though it was a disease. "Her morals are dictated from half way around the world and at least two centuries in the past." She squirmed on the bed until she was directly facing her guest. " Your mom seems cool though. I mean the suit you were wearing when I saw ya beside the pool didn't look like somethin' outa the fifties." Michelle was shocked by the profanity but more uncomfortable with the way her new friend seemed to be surveying her. She'd collapsed, resting her head on her elbow. Lying on her side above the older girl she was acutely aware that the hem of her dress had ridden up revealing a lot of leg—sore leg. "Yeah she is ... she's pretty cool" Michelle chuckled thinking about her mom. "You're so lucky" Rebecca said "to have a mom like that." Michelle shifted on the bed in a futile attempt to get comfortable. She'd decided that she was going to soak in a hot tub as soon as she got home. Moving made the ache in her legs worse and, though she tried to suppress it, a soft groan of pain escaped. "What's the matter?" her new friend with the long golden hair asked in a concerned voice. Michelle rubbed her upper thigh through the polyester blend dress "I don't know ... I think maybe it was goin' up and down the stairs so many times carrying boxes ... made my legs really sore." "Do ya want me to rub them for ya? You know, like a massage?" Michelle was shocked—no thrilled —by the offer. She would have declined in spite of how wonderful the proposal sounded; if she'd had the chance. Becky didn't wait for a response she just slithered off the bed and knelt on the floor. Once there she slipped her friend's white sandals off and began squeezing and kneading her left calf muscle. The relaxation that flowed up her leg came as a relief, and she moaned. "Does that feel good?" the kneeling girl asked as she switched to the right leg. "Mmmmm..." was all Michelle could manage for a reply. The blonde continued, alternating legs for a minute before she began to work her way higher. When she switched for the fourth or fifth time from right to left she was rubbing and squeezing the younger girl's knees. The reclining girl really thought she should tell her friend to stop but it just felt so good that she couldn't bring herself to protest. Lying with her eyes closed feeling the tension being worked out of her sore legs she started to feel dreamy. That's why she didn't notice at first how high up her legs Becky's hands had traveled. Michelle would never know what caused the impure thoughts to enter her head; but she was suddenly very aware that during the course of the massage her legs had been gradually getting wider and wider apart. Her new friend's hands were under her skirt squeezing her thighs. Those wonderful soothing hands were more than halfway up—halfway from her knees to her—. She also became conscious of the fluttery feeling in her tummy. It was just like when she washed herself too long. The last disturbing thought was wondering if from her kneeling position between her legs—could Becky see the crotch of her panties? It was that last image that made her sit up. The kneeling blonde's face was sort of flushed and her eyes looked unfocused. "Girls ... come for desert" Rebecca's mother called up the stairs. Neither one of them moved for a moment. Michelle realized that she was breathing like she'd just been running. Becky yanked her hands out from under the black and white print dress as if she'd touched something very hot. Without a word they went back to join their parents in the dining room. The next morning the whole Conrad family got busy unpacking and putting things away. Michelle only had her room and the main bathroom (which was really her bathroom) to do and so was finished by noon. The phone guy and the cable guy were there pretty early so by the time the teenager was stowing the last of her clothes the phone and the internet were both connected; not to mention the cable TV. She was glad that they'd had the foresight to exchange e-mail addresses before they parted last night. Hi Becky! What have you got planned for today? Michelle As soon as she'd sent the message she switched to YouTube. Right on top was Katy Perry's song. She'd heard it before, but now it seemed to have so much more meaning. When Katy sang the line: ' ... taste of her cherry ChapStick... ' Michelle got a tingle all over. 'I wonder if Becky wears cherry ChapStick?' That thought made the tummy fluttering start. The idea of kissing a girl intrigued her which in a way she found odd because she didn't feel the same way about kissing a boy. She watched the music video through twice before checking out the new posts. Not finding anything particularly interesting she decided on another bath before she got dressed. She'd done all her unpacking and bedroom arranging in her cotton night shirt. The bath last night after dinner had really helped her legs but she couldn't stay in too long because she was really tired. She wasn't even hurting that much this morning but the novelty of having her own bathroom encouraged her to indulge. The musical tone just as she was about to put her computer on stand-by signified an incoming message. She clicked the icon leaning over the desk. Hi Michelle, It's supposed to be a nice day—hot! I'm just gonna hang out by the pool. You're welcome to join me if you want. How are your legs feeling today? Becky Suddenly her legs went all tingly. She could almost feel her neighbor's hands squeezing her thighs the way she'd massaged them last night. That strange kind of nervous feeling way down in her belly was worse than ever and her knees were feeling weak. It was like the weakness she got when she washed ... uh, you know—. She had to sit down. Hey Becky, she typed. I'd love to come over. I'm just gonna take a quick bath before I get dressed. See you soon. Michelle She'd almost signed it Love, Michelle . In the bathroom she started the water running, added a cap full of bubble bath and then stripped the worn cotton nightshirt over her head. She was standing there in the same white panties with the faded flowers imprinted on them—the ones she'd been wearing last night when her older blonder friend had ... Oooo the thought was too much. She tugged them off and added them to the growing pile in the corner. 'I wonder when the hamper's gonna turn up' she thought as she slipped into the warm bubbles. Next door Rebecca Spencer opened her e-mail and read the message. The stunning little nymph from next door was coming over. 'I kissed a girl and I liked it... ' the refrain played in her head as it often did since she'd first heard it. She shivered and lay out on top of her neatly made bed. Her mind replayed the leg massage from last night and that urgent feeling in her kitty was back. Lying naked on her bed she ran her fingers over her bald mons. If her mother ever found out that she was shaving down there she'd freak-out. The odds against it were pretty long. Exposure of any body parts that weren't visible at Mass was not acceptable in the Spencer household either. Three years ago, when her boobies had just started to show, she'd been running late and had come down for breakfast in the long T shirt that she slept in. Her mother had gone nuts and told her to get back up to her room and get some proper clothes on. That was the last, and remarkably modest, last time she'd been seen by anyone in her house not completely covered up. If she stayed in her nightshirt she had to wear a robe over it. Similarly she never saw either of her parents without at least a couple of layers on. There was something about the secrecy—the mystery of it all—that tantalized her. Becky let her fingers trail over the sensitive warmth between her legs. Maryann Spencer would have been shocked unto cardiac arrest if she'd known the kinds of things her daughter's friends told her. The very catholic matriarch was against Becky trying out for the cheerleading squad last year. Her athletic daughter did, she conceded, need an outlet for her teenaged energy. Rebecca didn't know what had finally turned the tide and secured permission to tryout; she was just glad for the break. For missus Spencer the short skirts and tight sweaters were positively obscene. What she didn't factor in was the fact that all the other girls on the squad were older and much more experienced than her daughter. Rebecca made the team on raw athletic talent alone. Her mother curbed any social interaction as much as she possibly could. When she'd turned sixteen her birthday party embarrassed the novice cheerleader beyond anything that had happened in her life up to that point. The cake and ice cream that followed the silly kiddy games her mother orchestrated was more befitting a ten year old. Even so, cheerleaders were looked up to. To a majority of her classmates she was something of a star. Some of her teammates understood and sympathized—some didn't. Her mother looked forward to the annual spiritual retreat with other women from the church. Becky was pretty sure that she and her father enjoyed the yearly break as much as her mother did. Leaving Rebecca in the much more lenient hands of her husband was a concern for her mother but one that she had to bear for the sake of spiritual renewal. Don Spencer—God rest his soul—wasn't hen pecked; just prudent. He picked his battles wisely and after twenty years of marriage to Maryann he knew when and where he could push and where he had to back off and let her pious personality and upbringing take over. The timing of the annual retreat couldn't have been more fortunate for young Rebecca. Her mother had absolutely refused to consider letting her attend a party being organized by one of her cheerleading teammates. With mom away she had very little trouble persuading her dad to let her go. Thinking about her departed father made her sad but she pushed the grief aside and tried to focus on the contributions he'd made to her development while he was alive. Memories of that party, maybe the only one she'd ever get to attend, made the gorgeous blonde lying naked on top of her immaculate bed groan. In retrospect, and taking a mature perspective, her mother had been right. The party was held just around the corner so she'd been able to walk to it. She recalled kissing her dad on the head and leaving him sitting on the couch with at least his third beer watching a hockey game. Two things were on her mind as she went out the door that night. The first was, 'Dad's gonna enjoy his beer tonight without mom telling him that four's enough' ; The second thought was, 'I'm gonna hike this skirt up and adjust this blouse as soon as I get out the door ... if I show up at the party like this they'll laugh me right outa the place.' She remembered slipping around the side of the house and rolling the waistband of her pleated skirt up until the hem rose from her knees to her mid thighs. She opened all the buttons of the blouse and could recall the shaky naughty feeling wondering if she had the nerve. Some wonton suppressed side of her personality emerged and she'd taken off the white blouse so she could shed the matronly white cotton bra—the only ones her mother would ever buy. She put the brassiere in the side mailbox for safe-keeping until she returned, and without fastening any buttons tied the blouse under her jutting cones. The blouse was loose enough that she was adequately covered but she still felt amazingly slutty when her boobs bounced as she walked around the block to the party. It didn't take long for her to realize that everyone at the party had some kind of alcoholic drink in their hands. That's when she knew that her mother had probably been right. Almost everybody at the party was older than her but she was pretty sure none of them was old enough to drink—legally that is. There were varying degrees of intoxication but there wasn't a sober person in the place; until she arrived. The girl whose house it was, Gloria, was probably in the best shape. She was scurrying around trying to keep people from putting drinks on the furniture without coasters and shooing people who lit up outside. Becky was remembering that nervous feeling standing near the door thinking she should leave; run back home and pretend this never happened. Matt, one of the football players, sidled up to her and put his arm around her shoulder presenting a bottle of beer. "Come on honey ... join the party" he slurred. She knew it was too late to disappear unnoticed and one of her teammates—Jenny—sitting on the couch with her boyfriend turned, and in an equally stuporous voice said, "Yeah Becky ... down the hatch" and then demonstrated by draining her own glass. Matt persisted with offering the adult pop. Somewhere across the room she'd heard a few people start a rhythmic chant, "chug ... chug ... chug..." she was pretty sure it wasn't directed at her— yet —nevertheless she accepted the brown frosty bottle and took a long swallow. "There ya go" Matt congratulated her with his arm still around her shoulder. He was evidently using her as support because the amount of weight he was pressing onto her was almost more than her legs could handle. As a matter of fact his head was nearly on her shoulder and she had the distinct impression that he was trying to look between the unfastened buttons of her tied up blouse. He was yanked away by another member of the cheerleading squad. Cindy—his girlfriend—pulled the gridiron star away saying "Come on Romeo you already got more than you can handle" and she didn't sound too pissed—I mean drunk—either. One beer led to another and before she knew it the people at the party didn't seem so wasted after all. Her memory beyond a certain point was fuzzy. The guys in general seemed to be in worse shape that the girls. She recalled thinking that it was getting late; that she should really get going. She'd promised her dad that she'd be home no later than one but she knew that one had come and gone. 'What if he comes down here ... it's only a five minute walk ... I'll be busted ... grounded for ... and if mom ever found ... out don't even go there! Guys had been pawing at her all night. Somewhere, like between about the third and fourth beers she'd actually been kind of enjoying it. After that she didn't feel that much and plus it seemed like a majority of the guys had passed out. Melanie was Gloria's cousin. She was the one who sat down next to her right near the end. The dark haired girl was very pretty but in the alcoholic haze she was absolutely gorgeous. When the teenaged interloper sucked her lips into her mouth, it was Becky's first real kiss. The sensations that were stirred up between her legs were that much more overwhelming given that otherwise she was nearly numb. When her cheerleading teammate's cousin squeezed her tit through the unfastened cotton blouse she really thought she was going to faint; but then Melanie was gone. Becky remembered pursing her lips, eyes closed, hoping to re-establish the contact, but evidently Gloria's cousin had just wanted to feel her boobie and didn't hang around to find out what other delights might be available. 'I kissed a girl and I liked it..." the chorus played again as she fingered her outer folds lying on her bed. Melanie had let her down, but now there was Michelle; adorable, innocent, delicious Michelle. Michelle didn't realize how much tension was in her legs until the warm soothing bathwater relieved it. Eyes closed and head back on the rim of the tub the first image she had of her neighbor floated through her mind. The old fashioned bathing costume, the long shimmering blonde hair, the torpedo shaped tits; they all swirled in her mind. When the feeling of the massage (or was it a caress) of her thighs from the night before intruded she shuddered and could not prevent her hands from going to the crux of the matter. She definitely wasn't washing. There was no excuse for what she was doing—no excuse but one. |