Her [f]irst time with another girl, my [f]irst 69

I’ve had a lot of good feedback on my last story. I figured this would be a good follow-up.

Have you ever had one of those moments when you start daydreaming plan out exactly what you would do in a hypothetical scenario, even though that scenario would never actually happen? No? Just me? Oh well.

Well let me tell you about Rachel. She was, in that sense, a daydream come true.

I was a junior in college when we first met. And from the first time I saw her, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I was’t totally out at that point, so I wasn’t about to make a move really or anything, but she was one of the last crushes I ever had as I grew out of that pre-adulthood stage. Not the very last, but that’s another story for another time.

Rachel was a first-year. She was tall, thin, blonde and probably the most classically attractive girl I’ve ever lusted after. But she was a nerd. Across the room, she came off as a model–bright blue eyes, perfect skin, lovely curves without being too disproportionate–but once she opened her mouth, she gave herself away. And I loved her for it. I was quite the nerd myself back in those days, except I was a lot more obvious about it. And she swore like a sailor.

I forget exactly when she first caught my eye, but we were in a class together, so it was probably then. I was eternally distracted. It met in an old lecture hall and I was usually able to find my way to a seat in the back corner of the room from which I could stare at her without attracting too much attention. It was a bright-and-early 9:00 a.m. class, and knowing that I’d see her there was one of the few things that got me out of bed every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Anyways our paths crossed here and there as the semester went on, and we were assigned to work together on a major project–I totally carried her and saved her tight little ass from failing the class, but that’s neither here nor there. But come the Spring term, it just seemed that our routines didn’t sync up in quite the same way. I still saw her now and again, but across a hallway or at a distance.

Until one Saturday night. I don’t recall exactly what the occasion was, but it was sometime near the end of April. I had had a rough week–frankly, it was a rough semester–and I needed to get out. I was 21 at the time, but the friends I tended to go out with were mostly 20, so we had to stick to unofficial on-campus parties rather than going out to town or a bar or a club, but that was fine. I didn’t want to get dressed up all fancy. Button-up, tank top, jeans, sneakers–good enough. We bounced from party to party like we belonged there even when we didn’t, but never stayed anywhere too long.

And then I spotted Rachel. She was just sitting there. Casually. Calmly. Comfortably. Cutely. With a drink in her hand and a smile on her face, looking right at me. And I didn’t want to go anywhere else. On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is black out drunk, I was probably a 6 at that point. And I was a lot more bold, of course, so I actually spent time sitting with her on a couch and trying to talk to her despite the music and noise, all the while trying not to get caught staring at her boobs. (I think I failed.) But after probably 5 minutes, a friend of hers came over–naturally a guy. Ugh. And he started hitting on her. Ugh. And she got up and went with him. Seriously? And then they started dancing basically right in front of me. Ugh. I wanted to stay and stare and be jealous, but my friends knew better than to fall down that rabbit hole, so we left.

A few destinations later, I was ready to call it a night. So I started off walking back to my dorm, which was at the far edge of campus. And as I wandered back, I started thinking through what I should have said to Rachel. That I thought she looked amazing. Well no I wouldn’t have said that, it would have been too forthright. That I missed working together and being in class together. Ugh. Corny. True, but corny. That I wanted to dance with her. Definitely too forward. That I was concerned because I had noticed that it seemed like she had been losing weight and drinking more, even though I hadn’t talked to her and only had seen her from afar. Even worse. And creepy.

As I started up the hill to my building, I thought to myself “wouldn’t it have been great if she had blown off that guy and stayed talking to me? Or that maybe I’d see her another time at a party. Or maybe, if I was really lucky, she’d be at my dorm in the lounge waiting for me.” Fat fucking chance. Oh but that would be amazing. I’d sit with to her and we’d talk and laugh and flirt and we’d totally hit it off.

As I opened the door to the building, I told myself “you’re dreaming, Maya.”

Except there she was. At first I thought I was in some sort of drug-induced fantasy, except I’d laid off anything harder than alcohol that night. But after my heartbeat slowed back down to normal, I realized it was reality. There she was. Smiling at me again. I somehow regained the ability to form words just in time to say hi. It took about 20 seconds before we headed up to my room.

My room was a mess. Clothes everywhere–bras and panties included. About 20 open bottles of alcohol. The classic college dorm room. As she went in, she basically collapsed right onto my bed. I offered her a drink, and made some approximation of a melon margarita, by request. I had started to get slightly less drunk, and I could tell she’d had a few drinks as she kicked off her boots and made herself and her bare feet right at home.

I was happy to have her there. I put on some music. I opened a window to cool the room off. I turned on a black light. Because I was in college, so why wouldn’t I have a blacklight? And I took off my button-down top leaving me in a plain light green tank top. And jeans. And I turned to see her. And I wanted to die.

She, like me, had jeans and a tank top on, except she had the world’s brightest pink bra on. And the blacklight made it glow like a neon light, even with the tank top that suddenly seemed to be a lot more sheer than it was a minute ago in the semidarkness. I couldn’t help but stare, and she noticed right away. I was so embarrassed. I apologized over and over, but she laughed it off, downing the margarita in probably 3 gulps. “It’s just a bra,” she said. “Besides, theres like 4 of yours there and there and there,” pointing around the room.

And somehow something deep inside me decided that it was then or never. “And right here” I said, pulling the strap of my tank top to the side to show a tease of my own bra and staring into her eyes, hoping for a chuckle, a laugh, a smile, anything to show that I wasn’t the biggest, lamest dork in the world.

She smiled, looked down for a second, and I sat next to her on the bed. “Yeah,” she said. “And right here.” She did the same, showing her own strap. I laughed. Called it cute or sexy or something. I was still completely shocked that she wasn’t walking out at that point. I caught her eyes again and we smiled silently at each other for a minute. She broke the silence saying “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?” I asked.

“Oh. Um. I mean. Um.” she sputtered. “Oh no. Nothing. It’s just I’ve never gone back with another girl to her room. I don’t mean …”

I smiled. I probably laughed a little bit. “Nervous?” I asked.

She laughed. “Fuck yes.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s happening.” I said, hating myself for a second as I said it.

And she kissed me. Not a quick kiss. A long kiss. A slow kiss. A passionate kiss. My hand somehow found its way into her short blond hair as she kissed me. She eased back out of the kiss and said “Um. Yeah it is.”

I leaned in to kiss her back and we fell sideways onto the bed. I ran my hand up and down her back as her fingers twisted in my hair. My legs and hers got tangled up and her other hand steadied me on my hip. My free hand found her side and tugged her tank top up her side up to the line of her bra. I paused there and pulled my hand back down, trying to sense whether she was ok with it or it was too much. The way she grabbed and pulled my hair may have sent a mixed message, but the way she ran her hand up under my top and unclasped my bra said pretty clearly that she was more than fine with it.

I don’t think I’ve ever gone from fully dressed to fully naked as fast as at that moment. I threw off my top and bra as she undid my jeans and I wriggled out of them, my panties going along at the same time. I pulled her top over her head and almost tore off her neon bra as she took off her jeans and revealed her matching thong. Part of me wanted to leave it on for a second to see how bright it was under the blacklight, but a much bigger part of me wanted to fuck her right there that second, so I pulled it off.

I froze for a moment to stare at her naked body. God, she was like a model. Or a goddess. Slim and slender. Her breasts were just a bit fuller than mine (32B, in case you forgot.) Her nipples tense like goosebumps and looked untouched and pristine. I could see her staring at the studs in my nipples and thought she was about to pounce. She had a little puff of the lightest blonde hair just above her slit. (I was shaved, as I know you were wondering.) I must have been staring at it. “I didn’t think I was gonna fuck anyone tonight.” she said. I pressed my hand to her pelvis and tapped my pinky in her hair. “Do you want to?” I asked as I turned my pinky in a slow circle.

At first, she didn’t say a word. She just bit her lip and I swear she moaned a soft sexy little moan as she grabbed my hand and pulled it just a little lower to feel how wet she was. She whispered in my ear “I’ve never fucked another girl before.”

“Do you want to?” I asked again.

And she rolled me onto my back and somehow squirmed up the bed, so when I brushed my hair out of my eyes, I had a close-up view of her wet, waiting pussy. I barely had to move to flick my tongue against her thigh just right beside it as her body just about collapsed, grabbing my pillow to steady herself. “Oh Maya! Fuck yes!” she screamed as my tongue slid across her lips and I tasted her for the first time.

I don’t know what sort of porn Rachel had watched, or what guys she had been with had done to her, but she seemed to be under the impression that she just needed to grind against my face and that would do the trick. Maybe she was just that turned on that she couldn’t control herself. I’ve been there. I’m not judging. But I saw this as my chance for a first of my own. I dug my nails into her tight pale ass cheek, almost hard enough to make her bleed, and she pulled back for a second. “Stop stop stop. Lay down.” I said.

I moved beside her as she laid down. I rolled on top of her and pushed her legs apart. I went down on her as I positioned my own pussy just above her mouth. I was shorter than her by enough that she had to stretch to reach it, but that was probably a good thing given her sense of how to give oral. I grabbed two toys from my bedside drawer and slowly eased the big purple one inside her as I tonguefucked her slit. She came in what seemed like two seconds. But I wasn’t ready to let up. I put the other toy–the small, blue pointy one–in her hand as she was finally eating me in a good rhythm and in just the right spot. Just the right way. She went to put it inside me and I grabbed her hand and guided it to my asshole. She got the message and slid it inside. We 69ed and toyed each other for what seemed like hours (probably about 5 minutes) until I couldn’t hold back any longer. I screamed “Oh fuck I’m cumming. You’re making me cum!” as loud as I could.

My body wilted. The bed was a wet mess of pale sexiness. We didn’t move for what seemed like forever. She spent the night and I ate her out again in the morning. I realized that afternoon that with all the screaming, I had essentially come out that night, at least to my dorm.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/48ogwv/her_first_time_with_another_girl_my_first_69