Chapter Seven

SOPHIE

 

Sophie nodded in reply. She didn’t have the strength to do much more. Not after what Jessie had just done to her. Not after the incredible joy and scream-inducing ecstasy Jessie had given her for God knows how long. After her doomed prom night with Colton and finally deciding boys simply weren’t for her, Sophie had only been with two other girls before today.

The first was Chantel, the resident assistant for her freshman dorm. Exotic and comely, she had avoided Sophie at first. That is, until she caught her smoking pot in the girls’ bathroom down the hall. Chantel had written her up, but in doing so had let her know she’d keep her eye on Sophie for the rest of the semester.

And did she ever. Finally, after her mom made it clear she wasn’t necessarily welcome home over Christmas break that year, Sophie had spent the holiday barricaded in her dorm room, eating cheesy poofs and binge-watching Zombie Astronauts from Mars on HitFlix. She had been taking a shower on Christmas Eve when she felt the presence of someone else in the empty ladies’ room.

Chantel had lingered just outside the partly open shower curtain before clearing her throat. She wore a soft terrycloth bathrobe, flip-flops, and nothing else. The robe was half open, and Sophie knew how she’d reply even before Chantel asked, “Can I join you?”

They had spent the rest of that night and Christmas morning together, exploring each other’s bodies tentatively, but not fully, before Chantel rose, walked out of her dorm room, and never spoke of the incident again.

Sophie’s second—and most recent—female lover was Astrid, a hippy chick in her junior year World Religions class. She had been standoffish at first, quiet and reserved as she sat in the back of the big auditorium in her colorful crinkle skirts and sleeveless blouses, wispy arm hair enticing whenever she lifted her hands to tie her dirty blonde ponytail into place before securing it with a chewed-up pencil.

Having been burned by Chantel a few semesters earlier, Sophie was in no hurry to be hurt all over again. Still, she began to look forward to her Tuesday and Thursday religion classes. Or, more specifically, the two hours she got to spend furtively glancing at Astrid’s small, pert breasts as they poked against the sheer material of her gauzy blouses, clearly braless. She learned nothing from the dry, boring lectures but, instead, spent the entire time fantasizing about seeing those breasts bare before her, naked to the eye, the touch, the feel of her trembling fingertips and fervent rasp of her hungry tongue.

Imperceptibly, it seemed, as it happened so slowly, Astrid began sitting closer and closer every class period until, at last, she came in, headed straight for Sophie’s row, and sank into the chair next to her. She said not a word but opened her folder and set it on the long table in front of them. Sophie had sat breathless until, halfway through class, Astrid had scribbled something on the wide, blank page and slid it in front of her.

As if the two girls were sitting in junior high detention and not a college class, Sophie glanced down to read the words scrawled there: “I’m not wearing a bra.”

Sophie smirked, biting down a snort as she used her favorite ballpoint pen to scribble a furtive reply: “No shit, Ho. You never do…”

Gently, with trembling hands, she’d slid the notebook back to her neighbor. Astrid had smiled, the first time Sophie had seen her do so since the semester had begun weeks earlier. She took her chewed pencil and scribbled another note: “You noticed?”

“How could I not?” Sophie wrote in response.

There began a breathless, almost furious, note-swapping session. It was as if the rest of the class had fallen away completely, the droning professor at the front of the vast auditorium sounding like background noise as all Sophie could hear was the rasping of Astrid’s stubby pencil scribbling out her versions of sweet nothings on the rapidly filling pages of her composition notebook.

“How long have you been staring at my tits?” Astrid wrote back hastily.

“Since the semester started, obvi,” Sophie confessed. She was not one to be so blunt, but the situation was so surreal she couldn’t resist.

“So, every class?” Astrid wrote before sliding the notebook back in front of Sophie’s hungry eyes.

“Pretty much.”

Astride wrote: “Today’s different.”

“How so?” Sophie responded.

“I’m not wearing panties either!”

Sophie snorted. She couldn’t help it. Fortunately, they were so far back in the giant auditorium no one noticed, least of all the balding professor miles away at the front of the room, dragging yet another slide of ancient ruins onto the projector beside his podium.

“Happy for you,” Sophie wrote before sliding the notebook back.

Astrid gave a crooked smile to match her crooked teeth. She nibbled on her pencil for a moment before scribbling out a whole paragraph while Sophie waited, holding her breath: “I’m leaving in two minutes. I’m staying in Murphy Dorms, second floor, room #218. Be there in five or I’ll show my pussy to the girl down the hall instead of you…”

Sophie read the note just as breathlessly but responded cautiously: “So I have two minutes to tell you what a bad idea this is.”

“It’s a great idea,” Astrid wrote. “And your last chance.”

“Why?”

“Because I just found out my student visa didn’t get renewed, and I have to go back to France. You have less than one minute now!”

“You’re French?” was all Sophie could write back. She smirked; that explained the unconventional underarm situation.

“Yes, have you ever been with a French woman before?”

“I’ve only been with one woman before. I think she was from Maine.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and wrote back with a curious, cryptic smile: “This is your last chance to see a French woman’s pussy, up close and personal. Time’s up!” She shoved the notebook back before standing, abruptly, and waltzing straight from the room, as promised.

Sophie watched her go, heart pounding, staring at the words scrawled at the bottom of her notebook page. All the same, she waited a full minute before standing and following her out. The instructor never stopped talking. She wasn’t even sure he noticed.

Murphy Dorm wasn’t far away, but Sophie was still out of breath when she knocked on Door #218. And knocked. And knocked. Astrid never answered, so she twisted the doorknob and gently pressed the door open. As if posing for Sophie’s pleasure, her classmate sat, legs crossed, blouse gauzy and see-through, on top of a desk facing the door. Peering at the room, Sophie noted the packed bags and blank walls, as if Astrid was indeed on the way out.

She wore a satisfied smile and her breezy, Bohemian outfit from class.

“Lucky girl,” she said, voice low and, yes, vaguely French. It was the first time Sophie had heard her speak. The accent, and the desire, were impossible to ignore. “You only had a minute left.”

Sophie shut the door behind her with a resounding click that nearly scared her out of her pants. “Maybe I was just playing hard to get.”

Astrid nodded back at her with a satisfied grin. “That why you’re flushed and out of breath, Sophie?”

Sophie inched closer with an air of confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Like you said, my last chance to be with a foreigner.”

Astrid chuckled, then glanced away. “Before you get too excited, I’m only French Canadian.”

They laughed until the moment Astrid reached down to unbutton her blouse. There was a chair between her legs, facing her, as if hastily positioned there just before Sophie arrived. Astrid nodded toward it as she continued to unbutton her blouse with slow, reckless abandon. Sophie nodded and sank down into it, loins on fire and panties wet against the chair’s plastic molded surface.

Astrid finished unbuttoning her blouse and carefully folded it before setting it behind her on the desk. Her breasts were sleek and luminous and small, the nipples nearly as big as they protruded, rosy pink and desperate to be touched.

“Go on,” Astrid suggested, a commanding air to her tone as she reached for Sophie’s hands. “You can touch them if you want.”

Sophie nodded and did just that. Her lover’s skin was warm and soft and supple as Astrid writhed and murmured encouragement that soon became demands. “Pinch that one. Lick that one. No, harder. Yes, yes…softer now, yes, oh God, Sophie, yes!”

In moments Astrid had yanked her skirt up to reveal wispy blonde pubes that did little to hide the swollen pink mound between her legs. With the same commanding tone, she guided Sophie’s touch, left, right, up, down, harder, faster, until she climaxed one, two, three times. The minute she was finished, Astrid yanked her skirt back over her legs and stood, abruptly, reaching for her blouse. She leaned down and, with a quick, tender kiss, said, “Thanks, Sophie. That was…more than adequate.” With that, she finished dressing, grabbed the handles of her two overstuffed bags, and simply…walked out of the dorm room.

And, apparently, Sophie’s life.

Sophie had sat there, stunned. She had waited a minute or two for Astrid to return, tell her she was only joking, and yank her clothes off to return the favor. But when that never happened, Sophie slid her hand inside her yoga pants and pleasured herself quickly before paranoia set in and she worried someone might walk into the empty dorm room at any moment. After two or three mediocre climaxes she stood, washed her hands in the dorm sink, and left, never to return to Murphy Dorm again.

It had been a long, frustrating dry spell since then, which was probably why Sophie had been so desperate to race out and “catch” Jessie in the shower that morning. Now, the echoes of ecstasy still shuddered through her sweaty body as she admired Jessie’s naked form as she sat at the foot of the leather settee.

Her pale skin was slick with sweat, nipples hard and taut atop her pert, perky breasts. There was a small, exploding firecracker tattoo to the left of and below her belly button, just above the wispy auburn patch of damp pubic hair that lay nestled above the hint of her wet, glossy labia. It must’ve been hidden beneath the waistband of her bikini.

Sophie nodded before she could forget the question. “I…I’ve never done that before,” she stammered, watching breathlessly as Jessie approached.

She smirked, shaking her head. “Me either,” she admitted before sliding one knee onto the couch cushion. “But there’s no one I’d like to try it with more than you, Sophie.”

Sophie had never felt so adored before. It was in the way Jessie’s eyes caressed her every curve, bump, dip, and ridge. She slid the other knee onto the cushion, one on either side of Sophie’s left leg. She rested her hands, palms down, on Sophie’s still trembling thighs, gently inching herself closer until at last her right thigh was flush with Sophie’s mound.

Awkwardly at first, Jessie gripped her sweaty hips and turned them slightly, inching closer still until at last their tender buds caressed one another in the hinge where their flesh met. Sophie had been certain she would never come again, that there was no juice left in the tank after what Jessie had done to her with her fingers, lips, and that devilish, expert tongue of hers. But now she felt the familiar flicker of lust throb and tremble in her aching belly, more quickly than she ever thought possible.

Jessie was athletic and limber and gently ground her clit against Sophie’s as expertly as if they’d done this a thousand times before. She dug her fingers into the flesh of Jessie’s writhing hips as she guided her up and down, lower and slower, faster and slicker as the heat intensified steadily, achingly and, above all, inevitably.

The silken feel of her slick, wet petals made Sophie gasp with delight. Amid all her sticky, awkward fumblings with Chantel that holiday weekend in her dorm, to say nothing of her one-sided finger fest with Astrid, they had never once come close to grinding themselves, sex against sex, the way Jessie rasped and dragged her fiery mound against Sophie’s own.

And then, the union took a gentle turn, Sophie almost there, Jessie perhaps sensing it, and sliding her hands from Sophie’s waist to rest them on the armrests on either side of her. Pinned to the love seat, Sophie felt the exquisite bliss of anticipation as she waited for what might happen next—and how often.

Leaning forward, Jessie didn’t just kiss Sophie but smothered her with her mouth, so desperate and wanton an embrace it left them both breathless and gasping when they finally came up for air, only for Jessie to cover her mouth with her own once more. Perhaps that was the point, Sophie thought as, lips bound together, panting and moaning in and out of each other’s mouths, Jessie pressed her aching bud against Sophie’s and gently ground them toward what they both sensed would be mutual climax.

It built and grew with every gentle thrust, their sticky labia slithering against each other, their buds caressing like puzzle pieces, dewy and sizzling with desire. When at last the heat was so intense it needed but a match to ignite it, Jessie pressed her weight tenderly but firmly against Sophie’s and sizzle, crack, boom—they came together in a blinding swirl of writhing flesh.

Their lips parted only briefly, to squeal and scream anew. Despite the massive orgasm, Jessie remained wedged in place and had but to move a millimeter left or the slightest glance to the right to send them climaxing all over again.

Nor did she hesitate to do so, Sophie pinned blissfully beneath her, peering up at her rosy nipples, closed eyes, parted lips, and blushing throat as Jessie’s athletic body ground against hers again and again, never less than gentle, always lovingly insistent. Sophie only took her eyes off Jessie when another intense climax forced her to bite down on a squeal and squeeze her eyes shut against the blinding joy. The minute the waves passed, she ogled Jessie hungrily, memorizing every darling freckle and pebbly inch of her taut, erect nipples.

Between feverish kisses and panting thrusts, the sun slowly set on their writhing forms on the creaking leather chair, Jessie as desperate to enjoy ecstasy as she was to give it, time and time again. Sophie lost track of her pleasure and even if she had tried to count, she knew this was not multiple orgasms anyway, but a single giant climax that merely rolled out in waves of shuddering, teeth-chattering bliss.

When at last Jessie raised herself on her trembling arms and gently slid away from Sophie’s pelvis, they were both drenched in sweat and hoarse with desire. Jessie sat on the edge of the old settee, her back to Sophie as she rested a moment before standing and padding, naked and barefoot, into the kitchen.

Without a word, she opened the fridge, rustled around inside, and closed it before returning with an open bottle of wine. Sophie somehow found the strength to pull herself up and lean against the back of the chair, admiring Jessie’s every move.

“Where’s yours?” she teased huskily as Jessie handed her the wine bottle. It was a cheap Chardonnay she’d picked up at the grocery store, mostly because of the surfboard on the label. And, of course, the twist-off top.

“Very funny,” Jessie purred, taking the bottle from Sophie after her first guzzling sip. “I thought we could both use some refreshment after… that.” Jessie sipped eagerly before handing the bottle back and settling onto the other end of the seat cushion. She sat with her right leg hanging over the seat, foot flat on the floor, her other leg pulled up in front of her.

Sophie, beyond shame at this point, beyond herself, sat cross-legged, girls around the campfire style, big as you please. Normally self-conscious about her shape, she felt more than just at ease with Jessie; she felt…at home.

From the dewy look in Jessie’s soft green eyes, she sensed the feeling was mutual. They shared the bottle of wine, back-and-forth, without a glass, without a schedule, without a care, much the same way they’d shared that single can of iced espresso that very morning. The golden sunset had passed by now, bathing the room in shimmering blue light from the moon high above. It caressed Jessie’s alabaster skin and made Sophie powerless to her abundant charms.

“What now?” Sophie asked when it was clear Jessie was the strong, sexy, and silent type. A slow smile curved Jessie’s plump lips as she peered around the humble beach cottage.

“Well,” she sighed dramatically, handing the half empty bottle back to Sophie with a lurid little wink. “I figure we finish this here bottle of wine before I take you in every room of this cozy little cottage. How about them apples?”

Sophie nearly choked on a swallow of wine. Passing the bottle back to Jessie, she said, “Has anyone ever told you, you have a way with words?”

She laughed, figuring Jessie would get the joke. Instead, Jessie peered back at her silently, almost sadly.

“No,” she said at last, her voice low and hoarse, but this time not from desire. “In fact, Sophie, I can’t remember the last time anyone gave me a complement. I can’t even remember the last time someone’s looked at me for anything more than giving me their order or asking for an extra serving of tartar sauce. Until I saw you rushing out onto the back deck this morning, I honestly thought I’d become invisible. Do you ever feel like that?”

Sophie nodded while she collected herself, throat tight with emotion. “Only every day,” she admitted once she could finally speak. “I didn’t want to seem so desperate this morning, Jessie. But it’s been so long since I’ve had a friend that I had to take a chance. Even if you’d run away this morning, even if you’d never come back, I had to try.”

Jessie shook her head, hands flopping up and down in her lap. “Why me? What could possibly have caused you to think I was worth racing around for, let alone striking up a conversation with?”

Sophie shook her head, setting the bottle of wine, nearly empty now, on the windowsill beside her. “Why not you?” she croaked, inching closer and closer until they sat knee to knee in the middle of the settee cushion. “Do you not own any mirrors? Have you never seen what a sexy, confident, beautiful surfer girl you are? I could no more have ignored you this morning than I could ignore my next breath.”

Jessie’s eyes grew moist in the dewy moonlight. She shook her head again, as if disbelieving. “No one’s ever said things like that to me before, Sophie. No one’s ever looked at me the way you look at me before. I’ve gone surfing a thousand times, taken a thousand beach showers, wrung my hair out a thousand times and not a single person—guy or girl—has ever looked at me twice. I keep waiting to wake up and realize none of this ever really happened today. That it was all a dream.”

Sophie smirked, reaching down to slide her right hand along Jessie’s long, lean thigh. “Feel that? Is that real enough for you?”

Jessie chuckled, and Sophie got the sense that the blue mood had passed, the time for confession was through, and the two of them—broken, anxious, and fragile—could now start fresh. Jessie yielded beneath her touch, putting her hands out behind her and leaning back to slide her still-damp bush closer to Sophie’s creeping fingertips.

“I can’t tell yet,” she teased, spreading her legs wider still until Sophie could see the glistening folds of her tempting vulva, inviting and pearly and achingly close. “Maybe, if you keep going a little higher, I’ll know this is for real…”

Sophie smirked, taking her time, taking control, feeling Jessie yield to her eager touch. “I know you want to christen every room in the house,” she murmured as she ran her fingers through the silken hair just below her firecracker tattoo. “But I’m kind of fond of this here chair at the moment.”

Jessie nodded, eyes half-lidded and lips gently parted. “Me too,” she said, sliding her foot off the chair so that she sat spread-eagled before Sophie’s hungry, admiring eyes. “I feel like maybe we should stay put for a little while,” she offered, voice going small as her eyelids fluttered open and shut.

Sophie nodded, thumb drifting south of Jessie’s wispy thatch to gently tease her hidden bud. “Like permanently,” she said. Their eyes met, open and clear in the blue moonlight.

“I should go home sometime,” Jessie said, as if convincing herself.

Sophie shook her head, correcting her. “You already are home, Jessie. You’re not going anywhere.”

As if to prove it, Sophie applied the slightest pressure as the pad of her thumb pressed gently against Jessie’s clit. Jessie sucked air through her teeth and shook her head, as if willing herself not to come.

“You’re wrong about that,” she said, greedily grinding herself against Sophie’s thumb.

“Oh yeah?” Sophie asked.

Jessie nodded. “Keep doing that and forget home, I’m going straight to heaven!”

They both laughed, Sophie gently circling Jessie’s mound with her thumb, tenderly caressing every fold and wrinkle until it grew fragrant and moist yet again. “You can go anywhere you want, Jessie, as long as you keep coming back to me.”

Jessie began to tremble, nipples going hard and belly quivering as Sophie found just the right rhythm to tease her into submission without quite sending her over the edge.

Yet, anyway…

“Just try to get rid of me,” she murmured, before closing her eyes, leaning back, and giving herself to Sophie completely.