[FF] [college] [friends to lovers]

Originally (and perhaps too eagerly) posted to r/lesbianerotica. I’ve made some minor corrections and tweaks after proofreading.

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Months of quarantine sitting hunched over a laptop- and without a proper desk- had done a number on my body. I found myself readjusting my posture far too often. Changing my sitting position from cross-legged to sidesaddle could mean getting a serious cramp in my side. Before the pandemic, my best friend Monica and I were always saying how we should get together to do yoga. We both still had the mats we’d used in a yoga class a few semesters ago. Maybe it was time to hit her up.

I hate calling people- it’s already hard for me to keep a conversation going in person. But Monica loves to talk, and I could listen to her all day. She’s so expressive, both verbally and nonverbally. I wish that level of expression could come naturally to me, but that’s the struggle of being autistic. Monica’s easy to talk to, though. I FaceTime her. 

The ringer starts and loops a few times before her face appears. 

“Heyyy, what’s up Jess?” Then she gasps and says, “I love your hair, it’s grown out so much!”

“Aha thanks. I’m good,” I say as I instinctively reach up to massage a knot in my shoulder. “Okay, well…honestly my body is killing me. Uh, so I was wondering if you’d wanna meet up so we could actually do yoga?”

“Ohmygod you read my mind! My mat’s in the corner of the room and I feel SO guilty whenever I look at it.”

I laugh. “Right? So are you free at all this weekend? My shift on Saturday doesn’t start till 5 and I have Sunday off.”

Monica furrows her brow and brings her hand to her chin in her classic thinking face. “Hmm, let’s do Sunday. I’m gonna try to do all this fucking homework on Saturday. Keyword: try.”

“Oof, yeah good luck with that.”

“I’ll pick you up at…10. I think I can be up and ready by then. If not I’ll let you know. Or could you call me just in case?”

“Yeah, sure.” I smirked, amused at the way she checked herself.

“Perrrfect, dude. K, talk to you later. Love you.”

“Bye, love you too.” I was about to hang up but Monica beat me to the punch. Saying “I love you” still felt foreign to me. It just wasn’t something my family verbalized, though I heard it occasionally from my mom as she’d give me and my big brother that enthusiastic sort of sniff kiss on the cheek. Maybe it’s an Asian thing. I miss my mom. She never doubted that I loved her, but I still wish I could have said the words.

Monica was there for me the day my mom passed away. My mom had been out on a run in a quiet neighborhood when she’d collapsed from a heart attack. Paramedics weren’t called for at least half an hour, meaning my mom suffered significant brain damage. She had made it known to family that she wouldn’t want to be kept alive if it were to ever come to this. 

Monica and I have grown closer since my mom’s death. She’s my rock, and we support each other in all the ways that we can. We have our study sessions, and we’ve gotten slightly better at sticking to the task at hand. In the past we’d easily succumb to distractions; I can’t count how many times we abandoned studying for Starbucks or boba. I run on immediate dopamine rewards, so my impulses would get the better of me. And if Monica were to suggest something else to do, well how could I say no?

Sunday morning rolls around, and despite the late shift I’m up at around 8:30. I head to the kitchen to make some rice and scrambled eggs with spinach. Not too heavy, but filling.

Gotta wash my dishes right away, otherwise they’ll pile up and Executive Dysfunction will make its appearance- the bastard. I head to my bedroom to pick out my yoga outfit. I land on a thin, breathable burnt orange t-shirt and some gray drawstring sweats. I don’t always wear a bra in my day-to-day life; wearing a B-cup affords me that luxury. I’m tempted to leave the sports bra behind, but I remember what activity I’m getting dressed for. Last I checked, boob flashing is not part of the downward dog. I ditch the PJs I’m wearing and slip on a white sports bra along with the rest of my outfit. 

I give Monica a call at 9:45, hopefully she’s well rested. No answer. I try again a few minutes later. 

“Whoa I slept like a baby,” Monica says groggily. 

“You mean, a beh-BEH?” I ask using my impression of Moira from Schitt’s Creek. She snorts. “Do you wanna sleep a little longer? I don’t mind waiting.” I hope she says no, even if I could deal with the wait.

“No no, I need to get up now or else I won’t wake up until dinner. Sooo, let me get changed….yeah. Call you when I’m on my way. Oh, I cannot WAIT for some coffee. See you soon.”

Thankfully Monica lives just under half an hour away by car. In all honesty, I probably had enough time to ride the bus to a Starbucks and walk to her house, but I also like to take my time getting ready. 

She calls back when she’s on the exit ramp. I grab my things, and put my hair up in a ponytail on my way out to the front gate. It’s only a couple of minutes before I see her car turn into the street. She pulls up the driveway and unlocks the doors. I put my bag and mat in the backseat and slide onto the passenger seat. She greets me with a “Hey cutie!” and reaches out for a hug. Which is a little bit of a struggle because we’re both short. Monica’s just the teensiest bit shorter than me, and I’m 5’2″.

As we pull away from each other, I take in Monica’s wardrobe. She’s got on a Britney Spears Circus tee and black leggings to match. 

I say, “Ooh okay! Like the shirt.”

“Right?? The design’s just worn so much. Can’t get rid of this queen though.”

“Exactly.”

Monica checks her mirror and backs out into the street. And we’re off to Starbucks. 

Stopped at an intersection, Monica looks at me and says again how much my hair is grown. “It looks so good on you, not that your short hair was bad. I mean, peak Jess- in my humble opinion- was your lavender hair. And then when your roots came in??” I couldn’t help but grin. “Ugh, what a dream,” she added. I never knew how to respond to Monica’s casual flirting, so I just bypassed it entirely out of sheer panic.

“Yeah, I’m just glad it’s past the awkward mullet stage where I couldn’t tie up all of my hair.”

“Oh yeah, I remember how you were saying you hated the sensation of the mullet on your neck.”

“Not a problem now,” pointing to the up-do. 

We get our coffees, and Monica gets a breakfast sandwich to eat on the way back to her place. In the car we blast some Britney songs, and the ride ends with “Gimme More.” We wait in her driveway to finish the song, both desperately trying to mimic the shutter effect (mo-mo-mo-mo-mo-mo More). Monica throws in a couple of hairflips, acting like she’s in a music video. It’s hilarious yet undeniably attractive at the same time. I have to stop myself from staring. The song ends and with her hands to the air Monica goes, “So. Fucking. ICONIC.” I close my eyes and nod in agreement. I get out of the car and get my belongings from the back. Monica stuffs her sandwich wrapper into an old soda cup, and we both grab our unfinished coffees. 

Monica unlocks the front door and as we step inside we’re met with a soft meow from her cat Simon. She picks him up and proceeds to balance him on her shoulders. I reach up and give him some chin scratches. Monica lifts Simon and lets him jump to the floor. 

We take off our shoes and go finish our drinks in the kitchen. As we make our way to Monica’s room, she says that her parents went out to some new dine-in theater in the next city over, so they wouldn’t be back until dinner. Monica’s parents are chill, but I’m glad that we avoided the obligatory small talk. 

In order for us both to have a wide range of motion in her room, we move some things like her hamper and dresser to free up space. Monica opens her laptop and puts a mellow playlist on shuffle. We lay our mats a couple of feet away from one another, and start with some of the stretches we remembered from class. For the first few stretches, all I feel is tightness. We shift our focus from the legs to the hips, a highly neglected area for me. Monica’s demonstrating a stretch that she learned from a YouTube video. She gets down on all fours, and she shows how she widens her knees into a V-shape and then eases her weight down. I follow suit and get down to what I think is the right position. She says that my feet aren’t close enough together to get the true V, and she guides my legs accordingly. 

Even the slightest touch from her sends a wave of electricity through me. I let out an exhale, as quietly as I can. My body gradually loosens up as we move into yoga poses. I tuck the front of my shirt into the band of my sweats in preparation for forward-bending positions. We go through all the poses we could remember off the top of our heads, even though the internet is readily accessible. After about maybe 40 minutes Monica asks if we can end on a couple of partner stretches.

I hesitate for the briefest of moments but say yes. “Alright, lay on your back,” she tells me. I oblige and lay back with my legs stretched out, awaiting her next instructions. I realize that my ponytail is causing discomfort to the back of my head and I remove my hair tie, letting my dark hair drape around my shoulders. Kneeled next to me, she places a hand on my left knee and says to put it across my right leg (ideally up to my chest), while keeping my back flat against the mat. I reach as far as I can while she gently applies pressure. I tell her that she can press harder, and then I reaaally feel the stretch. Monica starts counting down from 15. We repeat the same on my right side.

Next, hamstrings. I stay laying down and Monica moves to kneel right in front of me. She pushes my leg upward and back towards me, slowly but with force. Her hand is on the back of my thigh and I get a tingling sensation where her fingers are pressed. Another 15 seconds and we switch to the right leg. I’m so focused on breathing steadily to slow down my racing heart. As she nears the end of the countdown I brace myself for the release of her touch. These few minutes have felt like an eternity, and I practically have to stop myself from squirming at Monica’s touch. I haven’t dared look her in the eyes yet either- mine were glued to the ceiling. “Five…four…thr-” Suddenly, she uses the weight of her torso to lean into my leg, and in doing so brushes her knee against my crotch. Blood rushes to my clit, my breath comes to a halt. 

Monica reaches “One.” as if nothing happened and brings my leg down. “Feels good, huh?” I assume she’s talking about the stretch and reply, “Yeah, all that tension is gone.” And replaced with another kind of tension. Did she really not notice where her knee had travelled to? 

I barely keep my composure as I sit up to trade places. She takes my spot and readies herself for the first stretch. She brings her left knee to her right side, towards the wall that I’m intently staring at. My hair, no longer up, shields my face and any potential expressions of lust that might appear. I drop my gaze briefly down to her body and I lean over and across her to press down. I take this moment to scan her body, admiring her tan skin. I go straight for the knee but I imagine sliding my hand across her thigh. No, I tell myself. I shouldn’t think about my friend like this when I don’t even know if she sees me that way. My thought is interrupted with, “Babe, you forgot to start counting.” Babe. A term of affection I would expect to hear from an s/o. It sounded so sweet in her mouth. 

“Oh, right! Sorry, I must’ve blanked.”

I could feel her watching me through my curtain of hair. I add some weight for a few seconds and let her switch sides. I tune back in and start from 15. 

Onto hamstrings, and I shift so that I’m in front of her. I give up on trying to evade her gaze, and occasionally glance down to read her for any sign of pain. Or pleasure. I push her left leg back and consider closing the gap between us as she had done just a minute ago. I find myself at the end of the count- I chickened out. I still had one more chance. She gives me her right leg. 

“Fifteen…fourteen…” I take these few seconds, which seem to fly by in an instant, to mentally prepare. “Five…four…” I take my chance and lightly push my knee to her center for just a beat longer than she had mine. Now it feels like time has stopped and I’m stuck in a moment of simultaneous exhilaration and terror. I search for Monica’s eyes. With our eyes locked, Monica frees her leg from my clutch and uses it to wrap around my back and pull me down into her embrace. 

My chest makes contact with hers, and I linger there while I bring my eyeline to her parted lips. I lean in, and our lips meet feverishly. We don’t wait to engage our tongues, either. They dance and glide over each other. Her tongue penetrates my mouth and I lightly drag my teeth across it as I pull away. I brush her hair aside and pepper a few kisses from her jawline to her neck. Monica is breathing heavily, and as I nip her neck she lets out a quick gasp. I suck the spot where my teeth have punctured, and use my thigh to grind against her pussy- the combination elicits a long moan. She grabs my hair, dragging me into a hard kiss. 

I’m aching to taste more of her. I move myself off of her and she props herself up to remove her shirt. Her head gets caught and I can’t help but laugh. She jokingly takes offense and from within the tangled fabric snaps back, “Well fuck you, Jess.” Please do, I think to myself. I help her out of her shirt, and take the opportunity to lift her bra as well. Her breasts, a few cup sizes larger than mine, bounce upon release. I take her dark brown nipple into my mouth and use my free hand to massage her other breast. She runs her hands through my hair, and I weaken when she grabs the back of my neck. 

My clit is throbbing, desperate for some sort of contact. I stand and help her up, then proceed to walk her backwards to her bed. I mount on top of her thigh, riding it slowly. I’m still fully clothed, and wonder if she can feel my wetness through my sweats. Monica untucks and gathers my shirt up and over my head. She tosses it aside while I remove my bra. With both hands she runs her thumbs over my hard pinkish brown nipples. I close my eyes tightly and give a hard grind onto her leg. When I reopen them, I see Monica glance down at my drawstring. 

She says, “Here get up for a second.” I stand up while she remains seated on the edge of the bed. She pulls at my drawstring and puts her fingers underneath my waistband. At first, only my underwear separates her fingers from my pelvis, but then she starts to pull down my briefs along with the pants exposing my bush. Once my bottoms are gathered at my feet I step out and help Monica peel her leggings off from under her.

She moves to the middle of the bed in a kneeling position, and brings her hand up as an invitation to do the same. I climb up to face her and grab hold of her waist. We make out for a minute before she takes my wrist and guides it between her legs. I begin to palm her clit and outer lips, and she touches me with two fingers- one on either side of my bud. Her other hand migrates to my ass, which she kneads firmly. We both moan deeply, relishing in our mutual pleasure. My pussy is damn near dripping at this point, and Monica’s wetness further turns me on.

I could easily cum from the clitoral stimulation alone, but Monica has other plans for me. She halts her fingers and tells me to lay back for the second time today. While I adjust myself against her pillows, she goes to her closet and emerges with a towel. I lift my butt as she lays the towel down. She situates herself between my spread legs and pushes her torso against mine. I feel one of her fingers part my slick opening and I writhe in response. She teases me with a grin but slides her finger in soon after, exploring my walls. She curves her finger upward, moving with just enough pressure to keep me wanting more. She hasn’t forgotten my upper half, and with the tip of her tongue she flicks and swirls around my nipple. I have a sharp intake of air as she widens my hole with a second finger. Her movements escalate on all fronts- she thrusts deeper and harder into me while sucking on my tits hungrily. The pressure on my upper wall intensifies, and I desperately grip the folds in the bedsheets as she brings me to orgasm. My moans turn to screams and my hips buckle under Monica’s final driving of her fingers. Cum is sliding down my pussy and Monica goes in to lap it up, but I actually have to stop her. “I don’t think I can handle another orgasm right now,” I say mid-quiver.

“Just wanted to taste you at the source is all.”

She takes her cum-ridden fingers and slides them into her mouth nearly sucking them dry before she gives me a taste. It tastes salty, a bit sweet. I build up spit in my mouth to return slickness to her fingers, my lips going back and forth over her knuckles. 

My appetite was still unfulfilled. “Can I taste you now?” She nods fervently. I guide her body so that she can kneel at my face. She gently lowers herself and makes contact with my tongue. I kiss and suck on her lips, then drag my whole tongue up her center. She moans and begs, “Mmm keep going.”

I shift focus to her clit, moving my tongue in circles. She’s so wet, and her cum tastes salty and sweet- just with a different note of musk than mine. I lick with varying tempos, and Monica begins to rock her hips back and forth in a rhythmic fashion with her hand on the headboard to anchor herself. I eat her out to the brink of climax before I slow my tongue. I swirl around her bud twice then switch to using my lips to suck on it gently.

She moans and whines in eager anticipation. My tongue returns, oscillating between rapid flicks and slower sweeps across her clit. Her rocking quickens, to which I point my tongue and let her take full control. I grab her ass while she rides me in ecstasy. 

Monica cries out, “Oh, oh I’m gonna cum!” 

Her body convulses and she squirts. I lap up her fluids, though most of it has dripped onto my chest. When her trembling finally slows down, she returns to the center of the bed and asks for the towel. I sit up and use the towel to quickly pat my face and chest dry before passing it to Monica. She dries herself and tosses the towel to her hamper. 

She lies down facing me and asks, “Lay with me for a bit?” I bring my torso back down and place a hand on her waist. We’re flushed and sweaty, but our breathing has steadied. Monica moves some hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. We can’t stop smiling. I run my hand along her thigh, and close my eyes. I’m in bliss.  

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/omz1w1/ff_college_friends_to_lovers