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(Note to readers: The characters in this story are 18 or older when they engage in sex. This story can be seen as taking place before COVID-19, or after global availability of effective vaccine and cure.)
Janine leaned back on one end of the loveseat, and said, “What do you want to do?”
Delia was excited, but not happy. She had expected this from Janine. The slight, amused, above-it-all smile. The disinterest in making contact. Delia hated herself for wanting Janine so much, and said, “I want to undress you.”
Janine didn’t even voice her consent, just gave a small lift of her spread hands. There was a flash in Delia’s mind about rough handling, but she couldn’t do anything that would make Janine unhappy. Delia’s hands were gentle when they raised the hem of the shimmery dark green blouse. Janine actually helped a little, lifting her arms. Delia’s pulse quickened as Janine’s bare midriff came into view.
Janine took hold of the blouse as it moved up her arms, and set it on the side table herself. Delia wondered if Janine didn’t trust her to treat designer clothes properly. Anger rose, but it made no difference. Delia was already moistening.
As Delia unzipped the gray skirt, Janine asked, “What else?”
“I play with your boobs and eat you out,” said Delia quickly, hoping she hadn’t asked for too much.
“Sure,” said Janine. “Guys do that.” She chuckled. “If I let them.”
“And no video,” said Delia.
“Okay, not this time,” said Janine, sounding impatient. “But I’m going to want proof.”
Delia partly wanted that too, proof that she’d landed this blonde beauty, maybe even proof that nerdy Delia had converted Janine, found her hidden true self. But the video would surely declare otherwise, that Janine had no interest in Delia. With no video yet, Delia hoped to keep some self-respect, for a few days.
The scheme annoyed Delia as much now as it had when Janine first broached it. Janine had known for years, since they were in high school, that Delia wanted her. Two weeks ago, in a neighborhood bar, Janine offered to pretend to go bicurious. She’d allow Delia to make love to her, but do nothing in return, all so Janine could keep men at a distance that she could control. Delia responded, “Eat shit, Janine,” and then went home and masturbated, while crying.
Delia had been solitary for months. She used to be fine that way, with a hot fling once in a while, otherwise satisfied when alone. Work was the center of her life, as she used statistical models to validate pharmaceutical testing. Lately, though, her physical need had grown, and her pool of fling participants had dried up . She felt snubbed by the world, and was getting emotional. Alone had been ground down into lonely.
A week later in the bar, Delia sat by herself with her third beer. Janine, with two guys chatting her up, caught Delia’s eye, smiled, and angled her head at an open stool next to her. Delia left immediately, lecturing herself that Janine was one of dozens of attractive straight women she saw every day, none of them inclined towards Delia. It was an awful truth about desiring the same sex, and Delia insisted that she was resigned to that.
But she had seen Janine, off and on, for years. Janine was imprinted in her brain: The blue eyes, the perfect skin, the sleek limbs. The smile.
Another week later, Delia convinced herself that she had to deal with the physical need before she could find a way to stop being miserable. Her attitude hadn’t changed, but its priority was lower. She walked up to Janine in the bar and, with a diesel-dyke gruffness, said, “My place. Now.”
I’m like a guy, Delia thought ruefully as she slid the skirt off Janine’s legs. Driven by visual attraction. Letting desire make the decisions. Dutifully she handed the skirt to Janine, who took it and folded it.
Janine fatih escort reached behind her back to get to bra hooks. For an instant Delia hoped this meant eagerness, and an instant later decided that Janine wanted to get this over with. Delia left in place the pricey shoes and elastic-topped patterned stockings, and pulled down the lavender panties that matched the lacy bra, which Janine moved to the side table. “On the floor,” Janine said, and Delia understood that the undergarment would not contact the other clothes.
Janine slid her body so it was sideways on the loveseat, one leg lifted for a foot to rest on the upholstered back. Delia shuddered at the sight of the peach skin against the burgundy fabric, even though she would have preferred Janine seated, front-facing, legs spread. Delia curled her upper half onto the rest of the loveseat and leaned down, getting one hand around Janine’s back and the other on a breast. Quickly, she leaned further and put her open mouth around the puffy aureole of the other breast.
Janine flinched, and inhaled sharply. Then she said, “Yeah, okay,” and her torso relaxed. Score one for my side, Delia thought ruefully, figuring that Janine, despite being a lawyer, decided it wasn’t worthwhile to complain about whether a boundary had been crossed. Delia framed her testimony: Your Honor, ‘play with’ need not exclude sucking.
Her crotch now warm and tingling, Delia took the hand from Janine’s back and started undoing fly buttons on her jeans. Her own nipples grew as she tongued Janine’s. Her hand got inside her underwear. Fingers probed past hair, sweat, and secretions, to get inside labia. She grunted on Janine’s delectable pert breast.
Delia jerked back and used both hands on her clothes. shoving down the jeans and panties, yanking at the shirt. Damn, why all the buttons? Today of all days?
She could feel Janine’s look on her. Hurriedly, awkwardly, Delia stripped, knowing how Not-Janine she was, both in her body and in the act of exposing it. Flopping back into position on the loveseat, Delia got her hands under and around Janine’s thighs, and put a drooling mouth on the bald vulva.
In a few seconds, Janine began writhing. Delia tongued all around the labia, down to the front of the perineum and up again. She set her top teeth against the clit hood, pressing slightly, then releasing. She rolled her tongue, pushing it just inside the vagina, then out and rising to encircle the clit and slide it against the hood. Janine moaned.
Heart pounding, sweat beading, Delia pulled back her right arm and put the hand on Janine’s quim from below. She put her left hand between her own legs. More thrilled than she could ever recall being, Delia nonetheless felt an odd steadiness, a sense of…control? That fluttering going through Janine’s hips, it was made by Delia, a real lesbian, a lover of women as ardent as any man could ever be.
Delia settled in to deliver that ardor. Now, her effort was less for Janine, the distant fantasy, and more for a first-time partner, someone to receive pleasure that Delia was eager to give. Her touch was energetic, but also careful, as it explored and learned her partner’s surfaces, and what the touch did to them. Her tongue slid and swirled around the clitoris, under and over and against the hood. Patiently, persistently, Delia repeated or changed her actions, even as rapid, slightly voiced breath sounds reminded her who she was ravishing.
Touch me, Janine! Be my lover! Two fingers went up Delia’s vagina to the base knuckles, two more probed Janine’s, both sets walking, seeking those hidden clusters of neurons that could sing out in joy. Janine’s clitoris swelled into Delia’s hot wet mouth.
Janine gasped. Delia thought wildly, I could make her do me! I could stop, I could edge, I could say “Eat me, bitch! You’ll cum when I say so!” etiler escort Then she felt tears slide past her lashes, onto Janine’s belly. Why won’t you love me, oh please!
Then, slender fingers were in Delia’s hair, trembling, moving through to her scalp.
Delia’s heart soared. Her quim spasmed hard, cramping her fingers. She yelled into Janine’s sex. More spasms, heat, Delia nearly bit her tongue and Janine’s clit. The hand on Delia’s head squeezed hard, and a roar rose to the ceiling.
Delia wanted more hands, she couldn’t see Janine’s breasts but wanted to feel them, and feel her own, she kept spasming, in a giddy rush she thought This is where a third party could help, put one hand in my cunt, the other one on my tit, while I grab Janine’s tit, then I’d just keep cumming.
“You’ve got nice hair,” said a raspy voice. “You should grow it out.”
Delia’s body finally calmed. With regret she pulled her hand and face away from the thick labia, the warm musk. A breath then allowed her to say, “I thought you were looking for a butch.”
“That serves a purpose,” said Janine, sliding to more upright seating. “Some guy sees me with you, he writes me off without even approaching. That could get rid of the pushy, arrogant, narrow-minded ones. But I don’t want to drive every guy away.” Her hand lifted hair from Delia’s shag cut. “Natural auburn. This could be dynamite.”
Delia’s earlier thought got an appendix: If she’d make her hands available, I wouldn’t need a third party.
Janine’s hand withdrew.
Delia sat up, roughly mirroring Janine. “What do you want, exactly?”
A bit stiffly: “Not your problem.”
“Do you want anything?” Delia’s voice cracked at the end.
Janine blinked, and her tone softened. “If I do, I haven’t seen it yet. But I might someday.” Then she added, “I can tell you this, though. It won’t be a woman. That does nothing for me.”
Hurt and anger were parts of what Delia felt, but not much of either. “Nothing?”
Janine beamed. “You were great. Best oral ever. I guess it takes a lesbian.”
“That’s very cis-straight of you,” Delia muttered. But Janine’s smile had almost melted her.
“Was it so awful for you?” Janine asked archly.
“No,” said Delia, looking away.
“Anyway, I like the idea of you going fem. You could do it. The body has potential, tone it up some. Dress to emphasize the good curves. Nothing wrong with the face, eye makeup will do wonders. Then, the two of us go out and about, and the guys who aren’t scared away might have some promise.”
Delia almost squirmed. She was about to launch a tirade, but recalled that Janine had seen the stash of fashion magazines in the bathroom. “I rub out to those looks,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I want to adopt them.”
“Once you’re properly turned out,” said Janine with a smirk, “imagine what the pose we’re in now would do to straight males.”
Two naked young women on a loveseat. Delia refused to concede the point, saying, “Doesn’t matter to me.” She lied a little, but not erotically. She did like the idea of men, in general, being gobsmacked by the sight of her. But she also had close friends who were straight men, and she would never deceive them.
“In a push-up bra,” Janine persisted, “You might get noticed before I am.” Then she looked away, lips tightening.
“What?” asked Delia.
“Again with ‘nothing.’ Another lie?”
To Delia’s amazement, Janine flushed. “When you were down on me. Your nipple, on my leg. It felt…interesting, when it got big and stiff. I, uh, I didn’t mind that.”
Somewhere inside Delia, a knot of pain loosened out of existence. She might never love me. But someday, could she get off her high horse?
“Nipple plus leg equals arousal,” said Delia. “So noted.”
“And now let’s work on making you a beşiktaş escort femme fatale.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I signed up for.”
Then Janine played a card Delia didn’t think was in the deck. “What do I have to do to convince you?”
Delia knew that she now wore an abject, yearning expression. She took a breath. “If I ask you to do something you’d hate, I might drive you away.”
“You might. But if you don’t ask, we won’t get anywhere.”
Another breath, then Delia said, “Once a week, can we sleep overnight in the same bed, hugging?”
“Yes. Is that it?”
“Two more. Once a week, can we shower together?”
Nodding impatiently, “Yes. And?”
“Dildo me. I have a strap-on. You don’t have to touch me while we do that. Think of it as practice in case you want to peg a guy.”
That got a laugh. But Janine said, “And we video.”
Delia exhaled, then said, “And I get to play with your tits. Hands and mouth.”
“Only when I say it’s okay,” said Janine. “And when I say stop, you stop.”
Delia was struck by the friendliness of this exchange, which was selfishly motivated horse trading. “Deal.”
“Next Saturday, all right?” Janine picked up her shoulder bag from the floor. “The shower, and the overnight?” She pulled out a small plastic bag, into which she put her floor underwear.
“Uh, yeah,” said Delia, watching as Janine stowed the bagged underwear and brought out a fresh pair, and a pack of wipes. “And the strap-on.”
“And the video,” Janine continued, standing to clean up. “Then in the morning we’ll start on your new look.” She stepped into the clean panties, which also matched the bra.
Clinging to her old look, Delia said, “And what happens if you find what you want?”
“Hmm?” said Janine, beginning to put on the bra.
“We’re out together, and I’m all tarted up like the fem I’m not, and up pops Mr. Wonderful. Am I left to get a ride-share for one?”
Janine stopped moving, the bra fastened and rotated, but straps loose and cups below breasts. “Doesn’t the pair rule apply to you too?”
“What pair rule?”
Janine sat again, closer to Delia, legs in light contact, nylon brushing bare skin. “A straight woman is more desired by a straight man when it looks like she’s taken. How does a single lesbian feel when she sees two lesbians in a pair?”
Delia couldn’t fight down a smile. “I think, ‘What does she see in her?'” She had thought that quite often lately, but didn’t admit this to Janine.
“So isn’t it just as likely, when we’re out together, that some cute lesbian will try to get you away from me? Even when you’re tarted up, you’ll be a little butchy, in a hot way.”
“A lot less likely,” Delia said, “given the ratio of straights to others.” There was that awful truth again. It shot down the point Janine tried to make. Still, sitting nude next to mostly nude Janine felt…good. The sex was a huge relief for her body, and Janine’s secretion in her mouth had a nice-enough aftertaste. Was spending a month or two dishonestly gallivanting with Janine worse than being lonely?
But Delia had to say to the beauty next to her, “You’re using me and lying to the world. And you’re okay with that?”
“I’m letting you play with my body and get yourself off, with no relationship snags. Based on our subsequent negotiations, you’re okay with that.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Janine’s smile seemed gentle. She put her hands through the strap loops and worked the bra into place. “You let me worry about me. May I friend-hug my new favorite cuntlapper?”
Delia nodded, and kept the hug tame.
As they parted, Janine’s left hand stayed in contact from the shoulder blade, around to the side of Delia’s right breast, before moving away. Delia snapped a look at Janine’s face. The eyes were widened, the lips parted.
Janine stood quickly and got her clothes.
Dressed, standing at the door, Janine said, “Next Saturday. Meet at the bar first, put on a little show?”
Nude, standing at the loveseat, Delia said, “Sure.” She smiled.
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