0 comments/ 4709 views/ 1 favorites Big City Girl Ch. 01 By: leBonhomme When I started my first job after college, I moved to New York, sharing an apartment with Hester, who had just graduated from Sarah Lawrence. I had gone to a smaller women's college. It wasn't too conservative, but not as liberal as I had heard Sarah Lawrence was. We slept on the twin beds in the bedroom. In the living/dining room, there was a sofa bed and two armchairs, coffee table and small square table with four chairs. The bathroom and kitchen were small, of course, but a real kitchen with a door. We started our jobs and met our new colleagues, also trainees, going out for drinks after work, then groups forming and having cocktail parties in someone's flat. I didn't meet Hester's new colleagues until we agreed that it was our turn to have a party. With both our groups, the flat was crowded, overflowing the living room into our bedroom, not that anything untoward happened there, just more space for people to move around. We had provided plenty to drink, inviting people to help themselves in the kitchen. They did, the men, usually with a second glass for whomever they were talking to. I found myself talking to men from Hester's crowd, and was a little surprised that men from mine seemed to be talking more with her. I was surprised, since she had mentioned that she found a couple of them more attractive, even the one who was talking to me. He still was later in the evening, after getting me a couple of more drinks. When I had to go to the bathroom, it was obvious that many other also had -- a couple of the men not too carefully. I wiped up and returned, finding some else waiting use the toilet, also finding that Bob -- that was his name -- was waiting to hand me another drink. We drank, and I ventured to say, hopefully not slurring my words: "I thought you would be talking more with Hester." He shrugged with a slight snort and nodded for us to move in a corner. When we had, he chuckled softly and replied: "Maybe, but the man in charge of trainees told the men 'not to dip our pens in the company ink.'" We both smirked. I wasn't so high that I didn't understand the inference, nor to appreciate that maybe he could have been thinking about sleeping with Hester, and also -- if he had told me that -- that he wanted me to know that he thought about that. Was he thinking about that with me too? I wasn't a virgin; I could, and maybe in the Big Apple things moved faster than they had in my college. When he saw that I had smirked, he glanced over at Hester and whispered: "Maybe the guy in charge of trainees in your company said the same thing." I shrugged with wry smile, and we talked about other things, until people began to leave. He offered to help clean up, as did my colleague, Jim, who had been talking with Hester. The four of us cleaned up. When we had finished, we emptied the little that was still in a whiskey bottle in glasses and had a final drink. At the door, which one of us four pursed his or her lips? We kissed, then embraced. I was kissing Bob better than any first kiss I could remember, and it sounded like Hester and Jim were. Was that how it was in The Big Apple? As they were leaving, we all chuckled with grins, and then they were gone, Hester and I looking at each other with another grin. Was that what girls did in the Big City, French kiss with a guy whom they had just met? In our beds that night, we did what we often had, but till then as surreptitiously as we could. We knew that the other one was masturbating, but we never mentioned it. This time we lost our reserve - the successful party, the alcohol, and just having kissed men that way. When we heard each other moan, we chuckled. I wondered if Hester was using both hands to arouse her pussy. I just had one hand there, as usual, but the other one was pinching and twisting my stiff nipples. I came, much better than since we had been sharing the room, but not as vocally as Hester did. When she had, she exclaimed softly: "Fuck, that was good; hope it was for you too." I was a little shocked that she had said that. I had enjoyed that we could be more open about what we knew we both did, but I hadn't expected she would say anything. I agreed: "Better than since we've been here." "Yeah, for me too; not a couple of times, when you were out in the evening." "Hmm?! You're worse than me; have to remember that next time you're out." "Don't need to now,"Hester replied with a chuckle, adding: "even better, hearing you moaning." "I guess so," I agreed, and we chuckled and said good night. I fell asleep wondering if that was how it was in dorms at Sarah Lawrence; it hadn't been in my college. In the morning, both a little hungover, we smirked at each other. During the following weekday nights -- not all of them -- that happened again, completely sober. Bob and Jim had called and invited each of us out for dinner. After our first drunken kisses, of course, quickly one thing led to another, and we slept with them, not both the same night the first time, because Bob shared a flat with another guy, but Jim had his own flat, so when Hester didn't come home their first night together, she promised that she wouldn't the next weekend. Bob and I could use our flat. We had our date. Bob was a little surprised, when I said that we could go back to our flat. I was also a little surprised at myself, inviting him to our flat; I sure wouldn't have done that a couple of months before. When he looked at me with a quizzical expression, I was even more direct, telling that Hester was spending the night with Jim. "If you want to," he replied with nice smile and held my hand. We clutched hands and walked to our building. When we were in our flat, then it was funny. Of course, we both knew what we wanted to do, but till then we had only kissed with his hand on my breast. New York wasn't like on my college campus, where we had been able to do more in the dark behind bushes: his hand inside my blouse and then inside my bra, and -- next date - inside the waistband of my skirt, an elastic one. We couldn't do that on a New York street; we didn't need to. How were Bob and I going to start? In the flat, he also didn't seem to know how, which I liked, but that didn't help. Then he opened his jacket. I nodded with a smile and told him to make himself comfortable and fix us a drink while I went to the bathroom. He nodded with a mild grin, beginning to take off his jacket, but then reaching first in a side pocket -- for rubbers? Was he just a good Boy Scout and always had them, or had he been anticipating the evening could end this way? I went to the bathroom, thinking to wet my washcloth before I sat down and went, then wiping my pussy with the washcloth, my panties around my ankles. Dry it? I wrung the washcloth out between my thighs and wiped again, hoping my panties wouldn't be too wet. While I pulled them back up, it occurred to me to put my pills where he could see them, then to leave my shoes in the bathroom. I returned to find that he had taken off his jacket and also his tie. He had found the opened bottle of wine and handed me my glass. I noticed that he had seen my bare feet. We raised our glasses and had a sip. Then he excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned, now also barefoot, we both chuckled softly and had a better sip, before we sat down on the sofa with his arm around my shoulders. It was too obvious what we both knew we were going to do, but started conventionally, kissing, but then our hands didn't hesitate to find skin. His slid unerringly up inside my sweater and onto my bra -- my lightest one, that let his fingers feel my aroused nipple. When my hand unbuttoned his shirt, his pushed my bra up. His fingers knew what to do with my nipple, the other one too, when mine found his. We chuckled, as our tongues caressed. Big City Girl now, I slid my hand down and found the bulge in his pants. He nodded with an encouraging hum. Back in college, I had let the guys take all the initiative. Now my hand helped his cock move around so that I could grasp it. It wasn't going to matter if my panties were moist, they were now from my aroused pussy. In college, we had always been in his room with his bed so near that it was the only place to continue, his suggesting we lie down. Now I had to, after a moment suggesting that we go somewhere else. "Somewhere" was obvious, my bed in the bedroom. He nodded with a moaning, and we did, leaving our wine glasses on the coffee table. As I was stripping off my sweater in the bedroom with just the light from the living room, it occurred to me that this would be the first time I would sleep all night with a man. Bob was taking off his trousers. When I tossed my sweater on Hester's bed, he understood that the other one was mine and also put his clothes on it. This wasn't being very romantic or arousing; his cock was below the horizontal, but when he looked at my bare nipples, they tightened, and his cock rose a notch. As I flung back the covers on my bed, he asked: "And Hester is not coming back tonight." "She'd better not!" I replied, and we both smirked and lay down. What was it going to be like all night in bed with him? Once in college, we had fucked twice, and another time -- another guy -- one of us had turned around and we then also had licked and sucked. It hadn't tasted good, but I could do that, if Bob wanted me to. Or would he want to fuck again, and then again, later in the night, or before we got up in the morning? His stiffening cock was in my hand, and he was sucking my nipples, then rolling on me. I hadn't done it before, but now I guided his cock to my wet, aroused pussy. He fucked, holding my shoulders, and my thighs drew up, and I met his thrusts, rocking my hips up. We fucked! He came, but unlike the college boys, he just grunted and groaned and continued to fuck until I came. He must have had more experience at his coed college than the guys in the men's college near mine. When we had recovered, he asked softly: "Is Hester really going to be away all night?" "She was last weekend and said so." "Could have told you last weekend." "I don't think she knew beforehand that she would be," I replied, then adding: "If she can, you can -- we can -- if you want to?" "Of course!" he replied and hugged me. Then he chuckled and remarked: "Never have before -- all night. My flatmate will wish I had told him." We both chuckled, and I said: "I haven't either, but I want to, want you to." We both moaned, embracing and our thighs drew up between each other's. We kissed, at first in confirmation of our agreement and then like on the sofa, our tongues suggesting that we both wanted to do more. My thighs had let his draw up in my crotch, and I rocked my hips, wanting to feel it rub on my pussy. It did, and I suddenly felt moisture between us; my pussy was leaking, not just moist from being aroused again. Before I could wonder if he felt it, he moaned and murmured: "I want to do something else." I wanted him to, assuming that he meant that he wanted to lick my pussy, but what could I say, should I say? "I do too," I heard myself murmur, realizing that I had never told anyone that I wanted him to do anything, and no one had told me he wanted to do "something else." Was that what I was suggesting, telling him? It wouldn't be the first time, but I had never said that, admitted that I wanted to do "something else"! I still wasn't sure that I did, but if his cock was twitching in front of my mouth, wanting me to, ... He moaned again and began to turn around. I had to say something to warn him: "We just did, uh, you know?" "Um-hmm. If you want to, I can." He assumed that I wanted to, and all the way. Did he mean that he knew he would taste what I was going to, when he came in my mouth? I had said that I wanted to, so I guess I did, to taste it too. We were getting comfortable that way, legs under heads, his not quite fully aroused cock in front of my face. I licked it, tasting a trace of his orgasm in my pussy. He was going to get a much better taste. My lips slipped around his cock, and I tasted more, but I wanted to now. His tongue lapped the length of my pussy lips, and he chuckled and murmured: "You were right." He had understood, but it wasn't bothering him, his tongue licking between my pussy lips, finding my leaking hole. He just moaned, and then moaned in response to my caressing his cock with my tongue. I had been right; I had wanted to, and I had already tasted him. I was already looking forward to the sensation of feeling it shoot in my mouth, the satisfaction of knowing I had made him come so good. I had to wait for that, sucking and licking his nice cock, making it twitch, while my pussy enjoyed what he was doing. Having my pussy eaten had always been good, of course, but Bob's tongue knew more about a girl's intimate anatomy, what it wanted and where. The first couple of boys in college had thought it was all just about trying to fuck my vagina with their tongues. That had been effectively arousing enough, but now I realized that I had been so aroused because they were wanting to do that. Then one had known about my clitoris -- probably about a couple of others -- but it hadn't been as good as what Bob was doing. I forgot my past -- had to -- and concentrated on trying to arouse him as good. I had a last brief thought that if he did it so good, girls with more experience had sucked his cock. I didn't know what else they could have done, just tried to do everything I could, wanting to feel it shoot in my mouth. It did, to my delight, but not before my orgasm made me forget about sucking and licking for a few moments, while I could only gasp and moan, as my hips twitched and my thighs quivered. Then his twitching cock reminded me to continue. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, and did. His hips began to slowly rock, his cock fucking in my grasp and in my mouth. He was moaning. If he had intentionally been rocking his hips, now he lost control of them, groaning, as they rocked faster, like they had just before he had come in my pussy. He grunted and came in my mouth: once, twice, and a couple of times more! My mouth was full of it, like I had wanted, and I was enjoying tasting it. He gasped and murmured: "God, that was good!" I nodded, agreeing that I thought so too, then nodded again, remembering that he had done it so good for me. I couldn't' tell him that, however, since I was still enjoying that his cock was in my mouth and that I could slosh the creamy liquid around it. Then it was less creamy, and I swallowed and drew my head back, closing my lips around the head of his cock as it slipped from between them. I swallowed again and murmured: "What you did too." "Loved it," he replied and began to turn around. I was surprised when he wanted to kiss me again, but his tongue seemed to want to find traces of his cum. Then we had to go to the bathroom again, smiling as we saw each other naked in the light for the first time. I hadn't done that before, nor watched a guy use the toilet or have one see me sitting on it. Big City Girl now, I thought, watching him turn to the washbasin and washed his cock and face. I told him which towel was mine and stood up and flushed and got my washcloth and washed. He handed me my towel, and I dried my pussy, hoping I was looking nonchalant with him smiling at me. We returned to the bed and lay down, embracing. I wondered if we were going to sleep that way, but then he suggested that I roll over, and he curled up behind me, holding my breast. He murmured: "Never spent all night, but have slept a couple of times, until the alarm clock went off." We both chuckled, and I held his hand and said good night. He squeezed my breast and replied, and we fell asleep -- before I could finish wondering about what I was doing: Big City Girl now. We woke up a couple of times during the night. The first time, I was very surprised to be lying in bed with someone -- a man, of course, remembering that he was Bob. On the single bed, we had to move around to lie on our other sides, quickly falling asleep again with my arm around him. When we moved again, it was all familiar, comfortably rolling over again, his hand back on my breast. When I woke up in the early light through the window, his hand had slipped off my breast. I wondered what a couple did or said after a night in bed together -- just "good morning"? I must have move slightly, his hand did, finding my breast again, and then he murmured: "Good morning," saying my name. "Good morning, Bob," I replied, pleased that he didn't have to hesitate to remember whom he was in bed with, and held his hand again. He squeezed my breast, and mine instinctively held his hand. Then I felt his cock twitch against my hips. He snorted softly and murmured: "That wasn't supposed to happen, justly usually like that in the morning, if I have to go." "You do?" I asked, appreciating learning the new reason why a man could have an erection. "No, just waking up like this with you. Do you?" "No, we went last night." "Too early to get up." "Um-hmm," I agreed, wondering if his cock or remark suggested anything. I had never felt a cock twitch against my ass, but I could only think of one thing it could want to do, now that we had eliminated his having to go to the bathroom. If he had said that it was too early to get up, should we do something else? Why had we spent the whole night together, if we didn't want to? I held his hand and repeated what he had said: "Too early to get up." His fingers moved, finding my nipple. Did he arouse it, or had it stiffened before his fingers found it? He moaned with a soft chuckle, and his fingers were arousing it, and his cock twitched again. "If it's too early to get up?" he murmured. "If your fingers keep doing that?" They did, and we both moaned softly, and his cock twitched again, and my fingers encouraged his. We both chuckled softly. I felt my pussy go moist. He moaned and murmured: "Told you what I love to do." "And you?" I asked, very willing to suck his cock again, but he replied: "You first, and then ..." I moaned and began to roll back against him. He let me, but when I was facing him, his hand grasped my ass, urging me to roll on top of him, getting back in the middle of the bed, and then both his hands were holding my hips and urging me to move up over him. Did he want my pussy up over his face? He did, his hands helping me move, as my knees drew up. If that is what he wanted, my pussy wanted him to. It felt like it could be dripping, as my knees slid up past his head. He moaned, and his hands drew my hips down, and his tongue found my already aroused pussy. I moaned. No one had ever wanted to do it like this, but he sure did! But what about his "and then"? Did he want me then to suck his cock? I willingly would, but first, let him lick my pussy. He did. I didn't know my pelvis could twitch on his mouth like it did, my hips' not resting on the bed. I had my own experience tasting and liking my pussy juice and could appreciate that he also did, when my pussy let him lap up as much as his tongue could find. Then my question: his "and then"? I began to crawl back down over him, about to get my knees between his legs, moaning at feeling his stiff cock brush between my pussy lips. How could I want to feel it between them, after he had just made me come so good? Before I could raise my knee over his leg, his hand grasped my hip, stopping my move, and his other hand grasped his cock and directed it at my pussy. Of course, he now wanted to fuck, but did my pussy want to, after the so good orgasm? When the head of his cock found my still aroused and wet vagina and probed, my hips sank down on it. He moaned, and I moaned; my pussy did want it! Big City Girl Ch. 01 I had been on top once before -- with the guy who knew better how to lick my pussy. I had just dropped down over him, and we had fucked, but Bob held my hips down and let me just rock them. He moaned and I moaned; a cock didn't have to go in and out to feel arousing. Even better, I was more aware when my pussy squeezed it and felt it twitch; it was arousing for him too. He moaned, as though he were confirming my thoughts. He had wanted me to just rock my hips, must have known this would be good. I moaned and did more than just rock my hips, moving them to and fro. He moaned again with a nod and murmured: "Yeah, like that." His stiff cock twitched, and my pussy contracted, as I forced it back and forth in my pussy. His hands almost grabbed my breasts, and then his fingers found my aroused nipples. They rubbed and squeezed, scratching my goose bumps and pulling and twisting my so aroused nipples. I nodded with a moan and repeated his "Yeah, like that." He did, almost hurting my nipples, but it was arousing, and I wanted to arouse him, rising up a little and circling my hips, churning his cock around in my pussy. We both moaned; it felt more arousing for me too, but not for long. His hands left my breasts -- my sore nipples -- and drew me down on him, as he muttered: "Fuck." I did, he did, we did, our hips pounding together. I knew my pussy was clipping his cock, but the sensation was lost in that of feeling it thrusting so hard and fast in my pussy. We tried to kiss, but we both were having to gasp and groan. I began to whimper; I was so aroused, like a child demanding something -- my orgasm! He grunted. My body convulsed! He was still grunting and fucking, but I had collapsed on him, my hips only twitching from the aftershocks of my orgasm. His hips stilled, and we lay there, both gasping, now just moaning. His hands stroked up and down my back, caressing the cheeks of my ass. Then he murmured: "God, that was good." "It sure was, better than ..." "Um-hmm," he agreed, when I had hesitated to continue my sentence. He chuckled and caressed my ass, adding: "Sure glad you wanted me to spend the night." "Not more than I am," I agreed and raised my head off his shoulder, and we kissed lightly. I felt a cramp coming in my leg, and rolled off him, stretching it out. We lay there, almost dozing. I was wondering if he would want to stay for breakfast. Eventually we stirred and got up, smiling, humming as we looked at each other in the light of the new day. His cock was smaller now than any one I had seen before, smaller than it had been when we had been in the bathroom together. Then we were again. When I suggested showers, I didn't think about having one together. I still wasn't that much a Big City Girl. He smirked, but replied: "Better not, better not be here when Hester returns." I nodded, that clarifying that I shouldn't suggest breakfast, and we both washed, he remembering to wash his face, after he smirked to remind me why, reminding me then that we hadn't just fucked so good -- a cock in my pussy longer than ever before -- but that he had also licked my pussy so good. I watched him, correcting my thought about being a BCG; it was about having sex the first time a guy was in my flat and his staying all night and having more and better sex. Breakfast or taking a shower together would be just adjuncts to that. When we returned to the bedroom and found our clothes scattered around, we grinned and picked them up. As he started to get dressed, I said that I was going to take a shower and didn't get dressed. He nodded, but when he pulled up his trousers, I suddenly felt very naked, blushing with aroused nipples. No guy had seen me by light of day all naked, and never when he wasn't. I wanted to cover them and my pussy with my hands, but didn't; a BCG shouldn't be embarrassed to let a man she had been in bed with all night see her naked. Bob, smiled and murmured: "Lovely." That made me blush even more, but proudly, realizing that I had drawn back my shoulders, presenting my breasts and aroused nipples. He hummed and said: "Don't tempt me. I better go before Hester finds me here, ... and also to surprise my flatmate." We both chuckled, and I enjoyed being naked while I watched finish dressing, wondering if nude models for art classes enjoyed being seen by the class of students. It was really funny, when we embraced at the door, my naked body against his clothes when we kissed. He left, and I went to take my shower. Did I really have to wash my pussy like that? I did, regretting that I hadn't experimented that summer in Europe with using a shower head on a hose to do what my fingers were. Of course, it wasn't as good at what he had done with his tongue, and I was a little chagrined that I could want another orgasm after what we had done. But I wanted one and got it with my experienced fingers -- not the first time in the shower. Reluctantly, I got dressed and made my bed and had breakfast, wondering if Hester's night could have been as good as mine had been. She hadn't told me what she and Jim had done the previous week, just had grinned like the cat that ate the canary. Had she sucked his cock? I kind of hoped she hadn't, liking the idea that I might have done something she hadn't -- a BCG. It seemed unlikely that she hadn't, however. Sarah Lawrence was too close to the Big City, and the rumors about how liberal its students were, suggested that they did everything. I waited, cleaning house and wondering if Bob was telling his flatmate what we had done. Then it occurred to me to put a sheet on mattress of the sofabed. I was just folding up the sofabed up, when Hester opened the door. She grinned with a smirk and asked: "You slept there? Good idea; guess he stayed the night." I nodded, wishing my cheeks weren't flushing at her so direct remark, then replied: "He did, but not here." "Hm-hmm! Next time; must have been good." "Um-hmm, very. Hope it was for you too." "Oh yes, of course, college was never like this, having to be back in the dorm by one o'clock." "Yeah, like at my college. Hm-hmm! He liked it too, also admitting that it was the first time -- all night." Hester grinned and replied: "Jim didn't say that, and I didn't, but it seemed like it wasn't last weekend, his suggesting we take a shower together and then making a good breakfast." "Bob didn't want to stay for a shower or breakfast, not wanting to run into you downstairs." "He wouldn't have, obviously; next time he can. Hm-hmm! And use the sofabed." We both smirked, nodding, and she added: "I'm glad it worked out. I was thinking it was unfair if only I was having all the fun." "Just last weekend, not last night," I replied with pleased grin. We didn't talk any more about that and took our laundry to the laundromat as usual, reading the paper while we waited. Back in the flat, we ironed and folded our things and put them away, then with smirks agreed that we could treat ourselves to a restaurant dinner. We went out again and found a small place near our building. The waiter was pleased to have two early guests. When he asked if we wanted wine, we looked at each other, shrugging, then nodding and ordered a glass of open wine. We had another one before we finished our meal and returned to our flat feeling pleased with ourselves. We watched the news on TV and a film. As we were getting ready for bed, Hester chuckled and said: "I know what I'm going to do." "Hmm? Didn't get enough? I did." "The more you get, the more you want." Then I remembered that I had masturbated in the shower, just after Bob had left, and snickered, replying: "Guess you're right. I did in the shower this morning." "Hmmm! We didn't, not quite, but we had a good shower." "Haven't done that yet." "Next time, after you've done everything you could on the sofabed." I smirked, pleased with myself, and said: "Didn't need the sofabed to do everything we wanted." Hester chuckled with a smirk and nod and asked: "Everything?" "Everything I could think of, everything he wanted to do." "And wanted you to do?" "I sure hope so; he said it was good. I thought so too." "We did too," Hester replied. The quieter tone of her remark let me think that maybe she had been wanting to hear that I hadn't done "everything", but I had, disappointing her a little -- but both BCGs. We had done what we did in the bathroom and were back in the bedroom, taking off our underwear. As I was getting my nightie, she snickered and said cheerfully: "Don't know why we wear anything in bed. Didn't last night, of course. Just gets in the way." She got in bed naked, giving me a grin. I was a little surprised, then wondering why I had never slept naked. I shrugged and returned her grin and turned out the light, also then naked in bed, feeling a little wicked, but if we both were going to play with ourselves and knew we were, it was only logical that we could be naked. I heard the rustling of her covers and slid my hand down over my pussy, just holding my lips together, enjoying how they fit in my hand, just alternating pressure with my fingers, only slightly moving them against each other, as I began to recall what Bob and I had done. My fingers were about to do more, when Hester interrupted my reverie, murmuring: "The more you get, the more you want, and more to think about." I nodded, not replying, recognizing that she was right; I did have more to think about: his cock in my pussy, then -- closer to what my fingers could do -- his tongue licking it. My fingers did more, my pussy was wanting more. My fingers rubbed over my clitoris. I moaned, and Hester moaned. I wanted my fingers wet, like his tongue had been, and put them in my mouth, licking them, recalling how his cock had felt in it. Then my fingers were back rubbing, when I heard Hester licking hers. Had she heard that I had licked mine? She snickered and asked: "Do you taste better than I do?" "Not yet," I replied automatically. "Me neither, not yet." I rubbed. Of course, I knew how my pussy tasted when it was aroused. It tasted good, and Bob must have also thought so. Then I heard Hester lick her fingers again. She chuckled and murmured: "Now I do." She moaned, and I wondered if she was using both hands, had licked fingers that had been in her pussy. Mine was now wet. My fingers slid down and probed -- nice and wet. I moaned. Two fingers weren't as good as his cock, but felt arousing. I moaned again and replied: "Mine too, now." "Tastes as good?" Why did she want ask that, the comparison again? I licked my fingers again, enjoying the taste of my wet pussy, and replied: "I don't know. Good, I like it, he liked it." "I bet! Jim likes mine too. We taste good." My fingers were back rubbing, while my other hand aroused my nipples. We exchanged moans, chuckling softly. It was arousing to know that we were both arousing ourselves and liked the taste of our pussies, but her questions had suggested that she could think all girls didn't taste the same -- her "as good." Maybe she was just teasing -- Sarah Lawrence girl. Or did she know they didn't, also a Sarah Lawrence girl?! Of course, I had an idea of what lesbian women must do, but Hester certainly wasn't. I returned to fantasizing about what Bob's tongue could have been doing and trying to do that with my fingers. Then I heard Hester's hand making wet noises and almost slapping against her pussy, as she moaned louder. If she liked it that way, ...? My other hand left my breast, and my fingers plunged in my wet pussy, two of them, three of them. - more like his stiff cock. I moaned, and my fingers fucked, not as deep as his cock had, but three fingers rubbed like it had, as the fingers of my other hand rubbed back and forth over my aroused clitoris. I moaned, and Hester moaned in response. It was being so good; both of us arousing ourselves with fantasies about what we had done the night before, about what Bob and Jim had done. We both were moaning louder than before, exchanging aroused, throaty, chuckling moans. It was being so good, not just what my fingers were doing, but also that we both now were enjoying ourselves without restraint. It was arousing to hear that she was just as aroused as I was: her moans and the sounds her fingers were making in her wet pussy. I had forgotten about Bob and his cock and was now thinking about what her fingers were doing. I knew that; they were doing what mine were, but I was now trying to envision her pussy. What did it look like; how could hers differ from mine? She could obviously make it wetter than I could mine. Was that better? It sounded like it, not just her wetter noises, her now uncontrolled gasps, holding her breath for a moment and then exhaling with higher pitched, pulsing moans. She must have suppressed them in the past, but she wasn't now! My fingers did everything they could, as I hoped with our new abandon that I could also have a better orgasm than the other times we had been masturbating together. It was beginning to feel like it would be, and the fingers in my pussy were jerking like never before, inspired by the sounds hers were making. Now mine were also making moist noises. I began to gasp and moan; it was going to be better than ever before with her. It was, but not before she had her orgasm. I heard her exclaim softly: "Fuck! Fuck!" Then I heard her bed springs move, and then her head slap back on her pillow, as she gasped, and then that happened again. Fuck! She was having such a good orgasm! I had to have mine! She was still gasping and exhaling with sharp, short moans: "Uhn!" gasp, "Uhn!" gasp, "Uhn!" Could I make myself come that good -- with aftershocks? It had happened before, but only a couple of times. This time I did. My head didn't jerk up off the pillow, but my body convulsed, and when my fingers stilled, my body convulsed again a couple of times. Maybe I exaggerated my gasps and moans, or were they just more pronounced because, after hearing Hester's, I could let them be? I was still recovering, when she remarked: "Fuck! That was good. Sounded like yours was too." "Um-hmm!" I agreed, pleased with myself and that she had thought so, but still not able to reply with words. But she did: "Fuck! Best time without a man since before graduation." Why "without a man," I wondered, and then wondered: why without one, but since "before graduation"? Had she had such a good orgasm without a man but with someone else before graduation, with a classmate, both of them doing what we had just done? They could have done it lots of times together, so probably. Oh, or her question about tasting better, ...? I remembered that I had heard her sucking her fingers while I was recovering, before she spoke. She chuckled. I sucked the wet fingers that had been in my pussy. She chuckled again, and then I found my tongue and asked: "'Without a man,' and 'since before graduation'? Like this?" "Hm-hmm! Also -- 'like this'." "You girls from Sarah Lawrence." "Didn't girls at your college?" "Didn't what? I had a single room." "Roommates must have, 'like this'." "Yeah, I guess they must have; all girls do. We knew that, but I hadn't really thought about roommates doing it together." "They must have," Hester replied, then snickered and added: "also." I remembered my question and her reply: "like this" and "also", recalling her question about whether I tasted better than she did. Was that what her "also" was suggesting, that roommates tasted each other's pussy. Did she want to taste mine, want me to taste hers?! I hadn't been thinking about tasting hers, but I had to admit to myself that I had been wondering about it, how it could be different from mine and that she could make it so sloppy sounding wet. What did it taste like? Should I mind, if she wanted to taste mine? It wouldn't be any different from a guy's tasting it, and that had been good -- especially the couple that had really known how to lick it. The thought was becoming less shocking, but did I want to taste hers, lick her pussy? I had been silent with those thoughts for a long moment, so long that Hester chuckled and remarked: "That isn't all we did, ... if you were wondering." "Hmm? It sounded like it: your 'also'." "Um-hmm, we did." "Not just 'like this'?" I asked for confirmation of my thoughts. "Um-hmm," she agreed, sounding more reticent than I had expected. Did she want me to ask? Did I want to, want to suggest that I understood what she was talking about, want to suggest that I could want to do what she and her roommate -- or whomever -- must have done? I drew a deep breath and asked: "You did -- 'also', not just 'like this'?" "Um-hmm, and better than, ... well, like I said, better than like without a man." I almost blurted out: "Better than without a man, but with a girl, as good as now?" "Better." "You do," I murmured for lack of another reply. "We did. Girls know what each other like better than most guys." "Hmm? I guess so," I admitted, remembering the boys who hadn't known what my pussy wanted. "Jim did, does," Hester added. "Bob sure did too," I agreed. We both chuckled, then almost laughing after our tentative exchange. Hester then remarked: "And girls taste better." "All as good as we do?" I asked, only then realizing that I could be suggesting that I was curious about how her pussy tasted. Was I? I wasn't sure, but the thought of tasting hers, and how I would -- licking it -- no longer shocked me aas much. If she and other girls liked to do that, and she said it was better than what she could do with her fingers and better than what most guys did, why shouldn't I let her lick mine? And if she and other girls liked to do it, and hers tasted as good as mine did, why shouldn't I like to? My thighs twitched together; my pussy didn't have any problem about who wanted to lick it. I still wasn't so sure about wanting to lick hers, when Hester hummed and murmured: "We all taste better." "I sure do," I replied to my surprise, and then that I added: "But I sure didn't mind how he tasted." "You didn't?! I did it, but I don't really like it," Hester replied. Maybe I was a BCG, I thought, pleased that I had liked Bob's coming in my mouth, apparently more than she had liked letting Jim come in hers. Feeling a little superior, I replied in a conciliatory tone: "We taste better, at least I do." "Me too," she responded. Was she understanding that I was suggesting that she find out, or that I find out? My thighs twitched again. I was less sure that I didn't waant to, but changed the subject: "Oh, it doesn't really taste good with him, just tastes the way it does, but I don't mind. I like to do it and know that it is being so arousing for him, and for me too." "Mmmm! It is, for me too," Hester interjected, adding: "And like you said, knowing it is being so arousing for him; he was moaning. Hm-hmm! Kind of gave me a sense of power, control." "Um-hmm, like that; we're in charge, not like when we were just letting the guy stick it in and hoping it would be good." "And sometimes it wasn't, not good enough, but not last night," Hester agreed. "Not here, either." "If you were doing it that good to him?" "Oh, I think he wasn't sure I wanted to, but he did, and wanted it to be like that for me." "Jim did too, as good as ..." She broke off her sentence, letting me wonder if she had been about to say that he had licked her pussy as good as some girl had. I chuckled, not about that thought, but at recalling that Bob had wanted to lick my pussy after he had just come in it, neither of us disturbed by what we were going to taste. While I was finishing that thought, Hester caught her breath and said: Big City Girl Ch. 01 "Oh? Why did you chuckle?" "You didn't finish your sentence: 'as good as ...'," I replied, knowing I was leading her on, curious to find out if my first thought could have been correct. It was a long moment before she replied: "We taste better." Was she suggesting that I ask more, I wondered, suggesting that I should think that "we" wasn't just our already having agreed that we liked the taste of our own pussies? I replied: "You said that before. Uh, ... just you and me, each of us tasting ourselves ... as good has Jim did? Hester giggled and after a moment murmured: "Can't taste ourselves the way he and Bob did." "We sure can't," I agreed with a chuckle, then was surprised at myself when I added: "Besides, they didn't just like to taste us, liked to lick us." "Um-hmm! That's so good!" "It sure is," I agreed, then murmured: "Or did you mean how good it was for them?" "Maybe, why not, if they enjoy it, like to lick us," Hester replied. My thighs twitched together again in response to her remark. I murmured: "You think so?" "Of course! It must be good, as good as sucking their cocks." She really was suggesting that she was thinking about licking a pussy? Mine? "Don't you think so?" she asked softly. She wanted me to want to lick her pussy?! Damn! My thighs clamped together. When I didn't reply, after another long moment, she almost whispered: "I know it's good." She really wanted to, no question, and she had already! She had licked another girl's pussy, and a girl had licked hers as good as Jim had! Damned thighs! They had clamped together again, squeezing my moistening pussy. I murmured: "Kind of beginning to think you must." "Um-hmm, it is good. Don't know if I like to more than they do -- our men -- but I like to." "Sounds like you do. Hmm? How did that start?" "Sophomore year, but ... I've gone all wet; rather tell you later." "Mmmm, mine too," I admitted, adding more softly: "You want to?" I heard her licking her lips. She must have wanted me to hear, as wet as it sounded, arousingly so. My thighs twitched together and then apart. I didn't have to reach down to know how wet my pussy was, but my fingers already had -- very. If I had wanted to tell her that I didn't want her to, I couldn't have now, but I didn't want to. I wanted a tongue -- any tongue -- to arouse me better than my fingers were starting to. I heard her covers move as she murmured: "I do." Had my question been an invitation? In the few moments, before she was moving my covers aside, I thought that maybe I was BCG about sucking cocks, but that she was one about licking pussies. How was she going to lie down, between my thighs? I drew my hand off my pussy. Her knee came on the bed next to my shoulder. Like that, like with Bob when he had gone down on me. I moved back to let her join me, her head on my thigh, as she lay down next to me. Automatically, I raised my head and let her thigh draw up under it and rolled over towards her. "You don't have to," she murmured, as her hand drew my hip closer to her face. Did I want to, did I not want to? I wondered. replying "You said yours was all wet." "Um-hmm," she agreed, sliding her head closer up my thigh. Her hand was urging my other leg to draw up over her head, passed it, and then I felt her tongue on my pussy. She was really going to do it, she was! Her tongue was sliding between my pussy lips. I moaned. She chuckled and remarked -- stifled from where her mouth was: "You do taste as good as me," and then her tongue was finding more to taste. I moaned with a nod and grasped her hip. She didn't need my hand to encourage her to move her leg; it swung up past my head, and her hips rolled forward. Yes, I wanted to, had to taste her pussy, like her tongue was tasting mine! I grasped her hip and slid my cheek on her smooth thigh. If all the girls at Sarah Lawrence liked to do it, ...? Her already wet pussy tasted so good. I didn't need feeling what her tongue was doing to suggest what mine should do. We both moaned deeply; it was so arousing to know that we both were enjoying the same sensations -- in our pussies and with our tongues. Licking a pussy, my tongue discovering how it felt to find where I knew Hester's pussy wanted to be licked, it was as arousing as it had been when I was sucking a cock, better, more arousing, knowing just how it was feeling for her. Was her pussy a little different from mine? Was her clitoris more prominent than mine was, or did it just seem like it, since my tongue could explore it better than my fingers could mine? I had always liked how it felt for my fingers when they were rubbing it or inside my pussy, but it felt even better for my tongue, and it tasted so good! And her tongue felt more arousing than my fingers, but I knew that from guys' licking my pussy. I moaned, and she responded with a chuckling moan; she had known that I would like it, not just what she was doing, that I also would enjoying licking her pussy. I was! I slid my other hand under her waist and grasped her ass with both hands. Her head nodded on my thigh, and she did the same. Our hips curled up, and we both sighed with long moans, and then our tongues were doing everything they could to give each other an orgasm. They did, much better than what my fingers could do, and better than what the guys had done. And her very wet orgasm was as rewarding as making a cock come in my mouth, except that most of her pussy juice was all over my face, but it tasted so good. I tried to tell myself that my orgasm hadn't been better than Bob's fucking me, but I wasn't sure. We relaxed with long sighs, rubbing the cheeks of each other's ass. I was wondering if Hester expected I would say something. Should I tell her that it had been so good, that I had liked it? That seemed so obvious, and I was still a little shy about admitting it. Girls -- even BCGs -- were supposed to like sex with men; I did, very much, but also as much with another girl? While I was rationalizing to myself: why not, if the other girl also liked sex with men as much as I did, Hester began to move, sliding her thigh from under my head. Was she just going back to her bed without saying anything? Oooh! No, she was turning around on the bed, her hands on both side of me, as she crept up over me. What now? I could only roll back and let her. Her legs were straddling one of mine, and then, with a chuckle, she was lying on me -- two naked women's bodies on each other, breasts pressed together. Then I felt the warmth of her face on mine, and her mouth was finding mine! Okay, if we could lick each other's pussy, we could share a kiss afterwards -- kind of appropriate, now that I had accepted that I liked that we had. Her wet, soft lips felt good, but then I felt the tip of her tongue between them. Kiss like that? Instinctively, my tongue was already responding, before I could object, and then I didn't want to; my tongue was as eager to caress as hers was. She moaned, and her hips rocked down on mine. Was she still aroused, aroused again already? Was I? My arms were clasping her body to mine, and my thighs were drawing up, one between hers and the other one pressing her thigh against it. Her hips rocked down again, and she hummed with a chuckle, thrusting her tongue in my mouth, as her thighs squeezed together on mine. She couldn't want to do it again, but when her thighs relaxed, mine drew up even further, as far as it could between hers, right up in her crotch, and her hips rocked again -- rubbing her pussy on my thigh? Did I want to feel her thigh on mine, didn't I want to? I was sucking on her tongue. She retrieved it and moaned, then chuckled and murmured: "God, that was good; I almost could again." Her thighs squeezed mine again. Now completely accepting that I wanted to again, in response, I squeezed her thigh and replied: "Sure seemed like it, but not tonight." "Mmmm, no, but we will." "Um-hmm!" I agreed. She gave me a light kiss and slid off me, lying with her thigh still over mine, and her hand found my breast. Nice, I thought, recognizing that it was smaller than Bob's hand. After a moment, I asked: "And sophomore year?" "Hm-hmm! Tell you next time. Good night." "You too." I dozed off, still a little surprised at what I had done, but it had been too good to question that I didn't want to do it again. In the night, I was awakened when she went back to her bed, just remembering what we had done, as I rolled on my side and went back to sleep. In the bathroom in the morning, when Hester smiled and pursed her lips, I did and then asked: "Do all Sarah Lawrence girls?" "All? All the ones I was with, really only a few. Oh, I know there were some that definitely disapproved, their problem." I chuckled with a wry smile and replied: "I might have too, kind of thought like that about the rumors of what some girls did in my college." "You didn't last night." "Not for long," I agreed with a grin. We were both naked. Hester snickered and squeezed my breast. I reached out and held hers. She hummed and said: "I like to suck them," and rubbed my nipple. "I will too," I agreed, already imagining how her nice nipple would feel between my lips. We got dressed and had breakfast -- with a few promising smirks -- and went to our jobs. I had trouble concentrating during my work, distracted by flashbacks to the weekend about Hester. After a couple of those, I made an effort to remember what Bob and I had done. That wasn't lessdistracting, but thinking about Hester was more promising: would she want to do it again that evening, and tell me how it had started sophomore year? We didn't masturbate every night, so maybe she wouldn't want to, but I sure could. My thighs snapped together under my desk. But she had said that she almost could have again. Was I going to have to suggest it this time? I could ask again about what happened sophomore year. Going back to our flat after work was almost as bad as anticipating a good date -- moist panties. That didn't matter with a date, even if they were sopping. By then, his cock was bulging in his pants between us -- or already with my hand holding it through his pants. What would Hester think, however, if she knew that my panties were already moist? Or would hers also be? Had she also been distracted all day by flashbacks about what we had done? Even if hers also were, we couldn't just strip off our clothes the moment we were together again, not waiting until we normally went to bed. Then we certainly would, however it started, and if I had to tell her I wanted to lick her pussy again -- that she should mine, of course. What had happened her sophomore year could wait. It wasn't just my panties; I should have worn different bra under my light blouse. The doorman was going to like seeing me. If he wanted to, a man; I drew my shoulders back as I entered the building and gave him a smile, seeing his eyes drop down to the little bumps in my blouse. I liked that he had seen them, and my nipples had too. They and I still liked attracting a man's attention. Waiting for the elevator, I glanced down and saw that they had relaxed, however. In the elevator, I rubbed my fingers over them, now appreciating that my light blouse and thin bra let my nipples feel my fingers, and vice versa then, that my fingers could feel that they were stiff again. As usual, I was back before Hester, whose office was further away. Sitting on the toilet, I slid my panties past my knees and kicked off my shoes, and then flipped my panties up with one foot and caught them. I snickered as I felt that the crotch was moist. I didn't just wipe; at the washbasin, I pulled up my skirt and washed my pussy with my washcloth. As I was drying myself, I heard Hester unlock the door. I quickly hung up my towel, realizing that I couldn't find a fresh pair of panties without her noticing. I replied to her greeting and put my moist panties in the hamper. When I left the bathroom, she smiled with a shrug and said that she also had to go. I left her alone, but wondered if -- hoped that? -- her panties were also moist. Did it feel different not having panties on under my skirt, or did I just imagine that it did? It did feel different, feeling my skirt moving on my naked ass, as I walked to the kitchen then realizing that Hester could see that I had left my shoes in the bathroom, if she hadn't already noticed that I was barefoot. I hadn't done that before, so she must think there was a reason why I had. Did I want her to think of the only reason that I could imagine? I rubbed my skirt on my ass with my hand, enjoying how it felt on my naked skin. I opened the fridge and called to her, asking if she wanted a beer. We hadn't done that before, having a beer as soon as we both were home on a weekday evening. "If you want one," she called back. I opened two cans, and she joined me. Without looking, I knew she was also barefoot -- no sound of her shoes, her that little bit shorter than with them. I handed her her beer. She took it with a slight smirk and glanced down at our bare feet. I did too, seeing her wiggle her toes, as she remarked: "Good idea: the beers and no shoes." We drank, smiling, smirking slightly at each other. I felt my nipples tighten again. Did she see them, is that why she smirked again and took another sip? I had one. She had another one and said: "That was good -- last night. Are you sure you haven't before?" "Very! Very good and very sure I haven't, but I knew what guys have done," I replied, then added: "and what you were doing." I smirked slightly and took a sip of beer. She nodded with a chuckle and had a sip, then said: "Yeah, girls don't need anyone to tell them what to do." "Sure don't," I agreed with a smile, wondering if I could ask what happened her sophomore year. It seemed almost appropriate to ask, our talking about girls' not having to have any experience to do it the first time. I took deeper breath and remarked: "Like your sophomore year." Hester gave me brief, more intense glance, then snorted with nod, smiling. Then she chuckled again and said: "And most of us -- three of us, we were four in the room -- had only heard about it, that some guys did it. Oh, don't think we all immediately did that evening." "I wasn't, yet, but the fourth girl had?" "Are we going to have supper?" Hester asked. "If you tell, and we have two more beers." Big City Girl Ch. 02 I smirked slightly and took a sip of beer. Hester nodded with a chuckle and had a sip, then said: "Yeah, girls don't need anyone to tell them what to do." "Sure don't," I agreed with a smile, wondering if I could ask what happened her sophomore year. It seemed almost appropriate to ask, our talking about girls' not having to have any experience to do it the first time. I took deeper breath and remarked: "Like your sophomore year." Hester gave me brief, more intense glance, then snorted with nod, smiling. Then she chuckled again and said: "And most of us - three of us, we were four in the room - had only heard about it, that some guys did it. Oh, don't think we all immediately did that evening." "I wasn't, yet, but the fourth girl had?" "Are we going to have supper?" Hester asked. "If you tell, and we have two more beers." "If you want to hear?" I nodded with a grin, and we started fixing supper. Hester began her story, continuing it as we ate and had our second beers. I interjected a few comments, but they were extraneous to her story. * * * Yeah, well, it was the second weekend sophomore year. I had a new roommate, a girl taking the same major. We didn't know each other that well, but thought we would get along better than with our freshman roommates. The other two were also roommates, but seemed a less likely pair. We hardly knew them, of course. It was Whitney who suggested we sneak a couple of six packs in the dorm. Her roommate, Rose, was quite young, having started college just before her 17th birthday, obviously intelligent. We knew who she was, since the student paper had mentioned that she was the youngest girl in our class. So there we were, illicitly drink beer in the dorm, in their room. We chatted about ourselves, getting acquainted, then talking about boys, of course. I don't think that we directly said that we had slept with one, but you know how girls talk, not wanting to admit they had done less than what it sounded like the others had. Rose was quite reticent about that, just nodding. When we were well into our second beers, Whitney grinned at us and asked what we did, when we didn't have a date: "or when you have had one?" My roommate, Leslie, and I had both made it sound like we had slept with someone. I had. I don't think either of us had recognized that the other had masturbated. I had, but we glanced at each other with sheepish expressions, then smirking and nodding. Rose had an uncomfortable expression and was blushing. "Nomen est omen." If she hadn't yet slept with a boy, she knew what Whitney was asking about and was embarrassed that she also played with herself. Whitney grinned, and remarked: "I knew you all do. I do too, of course, when I'm alone." Rose looked like she was about to say something, but didn't, still blushing. Why didn't I look to see if her nipples had popped out, like yours did a while ago? They must have, and so that we could see them; she had nice ones and nice round breasts. Hmm? I'm getting ahead of my story, but it's obvious that I eventually did see them, not just see them. Why do the most innocent looking young girls have such good figures? Where was I? Whitney smirked and took a better drink of her beer, then said: "There's something better than that, ... not what boys can do, if they're good, of course. Oh, they can do that too, if they want to. Don't know one that has yet, however." Rose looked startled at her roommate's remark; since in our previous talk, none of us had been so openly direct. I wasn't immediately sure what Whitney was talking about, but when Leslie shrugged with raised eyebrows, and Whitney smirked again, I understood that she must be talking about oral sex. Till then, I had just heard the expression, not envisioning what people actually did. Why had she mentioned it to us, however, especially since she had said that no guy had with her yet? Apparently Rose didn't have an inkling. She blurted out: "What? What else could they do?" Then Whitney looked surprised, while Leslie and exchanged glances, both raising our eyebrows. This was going to be interesting, but there was still the question of why Whitney had raised the subject with us. I could have understood, if she had wanted to brag a little - a lot. Had she just heard more about oral sex than we had? Needless to say, if I hadn't really thought about it, I certainly hadn't contemplated that it was something girls could do with each other. Whitney replied to Rose's question in a conciliatory tone: "You know, oral sex." It took a moment for Rose to find her tongue, blushing and then whispering: "People really do that?" She wasn't stupid, just inexperienced and shy. Leslie and I exchanged glances again, now smirking at the confirmation that we had understood, and also at Rose's question. I still didn't know why Whitney had raised the subject. She murmured: "If they want to, ... it's supposed to be good." Rose's eyebrows shot up, as she flushed deeply. It suddenly occurred to me that she could have read more about sex than I had - very little. Hm-hmm! And I remember that her nipples had poked out again. Yeah, she was interested in sex, just still too young to have much experience, and she had been paying attention. The so good student then replied: "'It's supposed to be good"? You said before that it's 'something better'." "It is," Whitney admitted quietly, now also blushing a little. Rose, the so attentive student, persisted: "You said a boy hadn't - yet." Her remark suddenly awakened to me the possibility that girls could have oral sex with each other. Whitney looked like she had been caught. That surprised me, since she had started all this. If that was what she was talking about, wanting to tell us, she must have anticipated that there would be questions. She took a last drink of her beer, having to tilt it up. She glanced at each of us and then murmured: "Not a boy." I had been right, but Rose was nonplussed. After a moment, she asked: "A girl?!" Whitney just nodded. Rose caught her breath and then asked: She did that to you, ... and it was 'something better'?" Whitney nodded again. I was sure now that Rose somehow had a better idea than I did about oral sex, wondering how much Leslie knew about it. I didn't want to glance over at her, but did, when she asked: "And it was better? Did you too?" Whitney nodded again, this time with a wry smile. The three others of us looked at each other with wide eyes. Then we stared at her, when she said: "That's good too." "You like to do it?!" Rose blurted out. It could have been my question, since by now I had a better image of what oral sex could be like, but Rose apparently already had one, her asking so quickly. Whitney nodded with a shrug and a little smile. Rose looked surprised at Whitney's silent admission, but then also shrugged, as she glanced at Leslie and me with an expression that suggested that she was pleased with Whitney's response, as though it confirmed whatever she had read about oral sex. I thought I was my turn to join the conversation, asking the obvious question: "With whom, a girl here last year?" Rose and Leslie nodded in support of my question. Whitney shook her head, but smiled, then asked if we had more beer. We did, and with fresh beers, she told: "Not here, last summer. My cousin was staying with us for an internship as a grad student at Berkeley, sleeping in my sister's bed, who is married now. Well, I guess you can remember my first question, about what we do alone. We weren't alone, but I was trying not to let her notice what I was doing, but she wasn't." Leslie and I glanced at each other with smirks. Rose nodded with a slight blush, but smiled. Whitney returned her smile and said: "Better if we don't have to try to hide it now. So there we were, and as you can imagine now, she suggested that we could do something even better. I was a little shocked, like I guess you all were, but if she wanted to. She did. It was better, better than what the first guys had done, and, well, if she liked to do it, I could do it too. Said it before, that's good too." Whitney looked at us, then more directly at Rose, while Leslie and I glanced at each other, each of us with a questioning raised eyebrow. To keep it short, we all finished our beers, and that night Leslie and I made no pretense of trying to hide what we were doing. Needless to say - again - we did it a lot better than before: not having to suppress our moans; enjoying hearing each other's. We didn't mention what else Whitney had suggested we could do, but the following nights - not every night - when we were "enjoying ourselves", we sometimes told each other what our fingers were doing. Hm-hmm! We also said that we liked how they tasted, I guess Leslie was also thinking about what Whitney had suggested. I sure was. Of course, we saw Whitney and Rose every day, not always together, but when I saw both of them, and they both smirked slightly, I had to wonder if Whitney had talked Rose into letting her do it, lick her pussy - not to mince words. That evening together, although Rose had at first seemed so unknowingly innocent, later she had seemed to have had a better idea than I did about what Whitney had been talking about. Smirking: when one of them met Leslie and me and smirked, we both also did, exchanging glances. I guess that went on both ways for a couple of weeks. One night, when, when Leslie and I both had our fingers in our pussies, she asked: "Do you think they do?" I was wrong before, that we hadn't mentioned that, but now Leslie had. I didn't know, of course, but replied: "Do you want them to have?" "Sounded like she liked it, that it was good - better." "Um-hmm," I agreed, and we finished what we were doing, but I was wondering how it would feel to have a tongue doing what the fingers my hand were, the other one's deep in my pussy. They tasted so good; that is, my pussy juice on them tasted so good - as I heard Leslie licking her fingers. A couple of days later, as Leslie and I were going to one of our courses, Whitney caught up with us in the corridor. She grinned and asked if we could skip the lecture. We looked at each other and shrugged. If Whitney thought she had something so important to tell? I nodded, and Leslie did. She smiled and suggested we go back to our room with her. The only thing we really had in common with Whitney - and Rose - was all that talk about sex. It seemed that that could be the only reason for her wanting to talk to us not in the corridor. Leslie's glance at me suggested that she had the same thought. We showed her into our room and closed the door. Whitney looked us with bright eyes and asked: Have you, haven't you two yet?" Leslie and I glanced at each other. She understood the question like I did, and we both shook our heads, then both shrugged with expressions that we understood what Whitney was asking. She frowned slightly and said: "I thought you would have by now," then grinned and added, almost triumphantly: "We have! Two nights ago, couldn't find you two yesterday. Mmmm! Yeah, she had told me that it was her eighteenth birthday, and I told her what I wanted to give her for it. Hm-hmm! She's still a virgin. She told me that, but that she doesn't want to be, and - I guess - she knew more about it all from somewhere than it seemed that night." "It sure did, at first," I agreed. Leslie nodded vigorously, giving me a grin, then asked: "And it was good?" "Both ways; then she wanted to do it! Hmmmm! Then both of us. ... You ought to do it." Leslie was smiling at me with raised eyebrows and nodding. I suddenly wondered if I hadn't been wanting to lick her pussy since I had understood what Whitney had been talking about that evening. No, it couldn't have been then already, but since we had started to talk about what our fingers were doing; certainly, when we both were licking our fingers. Yes, I wanted to! I returned her smile. Whitney grinned and said: "Oh, that's good. You'll like it as much as Rose did - both ways. Don't need to learn how." Whitney left our room, and we looked at each other. I could have done it right then, but we didn't. After supper, however, one of us said: "If she thinks we should?" Doesn't matter which of us said it, can't remember, didn't make any difference; we did. You know how good we did. Hm-hmm! Didn't study that evening. Mmmm! And then - it was a couple of weekends later - when we had admitted to Whitney and Rose that we had, they had both grinned. Well, it was sort of an orgy. We had two more six packs, but we didn't finish them. They were only an excuse for us all to be in one room together again. Was it really Rose, who started to take off her shirt? Such round breasts, and without a bra! And her still virgin pussy, but deflowered. Leslie discovered that with her fingers before I did, but I was delighting at discovering that Whitney's pussy tasted as good as Leslie's. Yeah, it was an orgy, if four girls can have one. We sat up and finished our first beers, and then changed partners on the two beds. Was Rose's pussy somehow more attractive because I knew that a cock hadn't been in it, that it just knew the arousal of a girl's tongue? When Whitney then wanted to lick it, I was a little disappointed, thinking that she always could, but then I was enjoying licking and tasting again Leslie's now so familiar pussy, and that she was tasting mine, and arousing it as good as Whitney and Rose had. We didn't do that again. Oh, not all four of us, but a couple of times, when one of had her period, or was otherwise not around. And, as you can imagine, that was just sophomore year. There were a few other girls. More than the boys? * * * Hester finished her story with shrug and grin, then held up her beer, and we both drank, emptying our beers. I was very aware that I didn't have panties on under my skirt, hoping that the lining of it wasn't letting any moisture seep through. "More boys, I hope now," I replied. "Maybe, but ..., well, I said I would tell you the next time. We haven't yet." We grinned and cleared the table. In the kitchen, when she had a free hand, she rubbed my ass. I was delighted at her wanting to start contact, and also at how the smooth lining felt moving on my skin. But then she snickered and said: "No panties." I recovered from my initial shock and her recognition and chuckled, replying: "They were too wet when I was coming home, and then you arrived." "Before you could find dry ones?" She rubbed my skirt on my ass again with a snicker. I nodded. She hummed, then said: "Now mine are too." I had to believe her. A few moments later, we had finished in the kitchen, and we started to get undressed, still in the living room. She glance at the sofa with a hum and went to the bathroom. I also had to go, but not before I had opened the sofabed and finished taking off my clothes, easy, quick, my skirt dropping, my blouse dropping somewhere, my bra off, as I joined Hester in the bathroom. She grinned. Her skirt and panties were around her ankles, and her blouse open, now slipping off her shoulders, as she remarked: "Why didn't we just do it two weeks ago?" "Why didn't you suggest it?" "Or you?" "Hm-hm-hmm! Didn't know you were like me," I replied with a smirk. "Now we do," she agreed, stepping out of her skirt and panties and unhooking her bra. I used the toilet, while she washed her pussy, then I did. We purred as we returned to the living room. The table lamp was left on, and we dove down on the sofabed, facing each other. Hester chuckled and fondle my breast, then chuckled again and said: "Yeah, I didn't just see Rose's - and Leslie's and Whitney's, of course. Don't have to tell you that licking and sucking them is almost as good having them licked and sucked." I moaned and put my hand on the back of her head and rolled back, urging her to follow me. "Um-hmm-hmm!" she agreed and curled her head down. Her fingers slid down around my breast, squeezing it. My aroused nipple rose a little and then disappeared between her lips. She sucked and licked, and I moaned. When guys had sucked my nipples, why hadn't I imagined what it was like for them, like I now was imagining what it was like for Hester's tongue and lips! Then her hand left my breast and slid down. When her fingers explored in my pubic hair, my thighs rolled apart instinctively at feel fingers there, before I was surprised that she wanted rub my pussy. When she nodded slightly with my nipple in her mouth, I rationalized that, of course, she and all those girls at Sarah Lawrence hadn't just licked each other's pussies, then wondering how it would feel to have my fingers in her pussy. How could it feel different from my own? I moaned again, spreading my thighs; her fingers were doing what mine would have been doing, starting with tantalizing, teasing, arousing exploration, not like guys' fingers did, immediately probing to finger-fuck me. Then hers did, but still just gently probing - so arousingly - until I heard them make a wet noise. She chuckled in her throat and sucked, and then a finger was slipping into my pussy. I moaned encouragingly. She nodded again, and another finger slipped in. I moaned again; her two fingers could go deeper than mine could. Maybe they weren't as long and thick as a man's would have been, but they knew better how to arouse me. Mine would too, when it was my turn, but then, to my surprise, she let my nipple pop out of her mouth with a chuckle and said: "Rose wasn't that much of virgin, if you know what I mean, but she sure was tight." I chuckled with nod and replied: "Like we were, when we got a finger in all the way the first time." "Um-hmm, but we didn't know how to do it as good as we do now," she replied. Her fingers demonstrated what she meant, making wet noises and making me moan, as her mouth found my other nipple. God, she was doing it good! Did she want to give me an orgasm just this way? She could, better than I could with my fingers, but didn't she also want to lick and taste my now so wet pussy, or was she wanting to show me what else girls could do, wanting me to do the same with her? I would be delighted to, and was looking forward to sucking her nipples and having my fingers in her pussy, but also tasting it again. She did want to taste mine. Her fingers slurped out and then were wet on my other nipple, arousing it as she wiped her fingers on it. Then her mouth moved over and licked and sucked it. I liked that, how it felt and that I had been right that she wanted to taste my pussy juice. Her hand was back on my pussy, now rubbing over my clitoris. Of course, she knew as well as I did what my pussy wanted, and knew just how, and it was being more arousing that someone else's fingers were doing it. She could lick my pussy another time, now I wanted it this way, and I especially wanted her fingers back in my pussy, where they could do more than mine could, but mine could rub my clitoris as good as hers were - not better. My hand slid over my hip, my fingers under her palm. She sucked and moved my nipple with a nod, and let my fingers slid further. I couldn't have been the first girl to suggested what I was wanting. Her fingers let mine replace hers on my clitoris, and hers slid down and into my pussy again. I moaned and rubbed, and her fingers began again to do what they could better than mine. Having sex with another girl didn't just have to be pussy licking, as good as that was! Oooh! Hester's thighs were straddling mine. I hadn't notice when her hips rolled over my thigh, but now they were rocking on it, the firm swelling between her thighs rubbing on my thigh. What was the expression for it: her "mons veneris." My weak Latin remembered: her mound of Venus - so appropriate! Her pussy wanted to be rubbed. My thigh drew up between hers. She moaned, almost biting my nipple, as her hips rocked, and her fingers - and mine - did everything they could, did everything my pussy wanted. Big City Girl Ch. 02 The such knowing fingers of two girls' hands were as good as the best cock! When my pussy and hips went wild, she forgot to suck, but her fingers continued to jerk in my contracting pussy, making even wetter, slobbering sounds, as I came with as good an orgasm as I could remember. Our fingers stilled for a few moments, while I gasped and sighed with moans, feeling my pussy still contracting on her fingers. Then they slipped out, and she began to turn around over me, her legs moving around and straddling me. I felt a drop of her pussy juice between my breasts, and then her pussy was over my face, and her face was between my thighs. Did she think I - my pussy - could want more? She did, at least, she wanted to lick and taste it, and she wanted me to lick and taste hers. I did want to and grasped the cheeks of her ass, wishing I could see her pussy better in the shadow between her thighs before it was on my mouth. I licked, and she moaned, but she hadn't licked. Was she looking at mine in the better light? How many pussies had she seen? Was mine as attractive as the others'? Hers was so wet and tasting so good. She moaned again, and then her face was down between my thighs, and her tongue was lapping down between my pussy lips. Yes! My pussy could want more, it did! She must have known that from her experience with other girls, but I could only give her her first orgasm. For a moment, I was a little shocked at how much I liked to lick and taste her pussy; that wasn't natural for a girl. Or was it?! It was so good! And what she was doing was being so good! My thighs drew up and flopped open, and her knees slid apart, letting me draw her hips down, so that I didn't have to hold my head up, her pussy down on my mouth, her pelvis rocking a little, rubbing her aroused clitoris on my tongue. Her hands were grasping the cheeks of my ass, clutching my pussy to her face, to her so eagerly licking tongue. Mine was just as eager, wanting to give her wet pussy an orgasm, wanting to feel her pussy give me even more to taste. Were we racing to satisfy each other, both of us moaning as our tongues licked? I had to gasp and felt my thighs quivering. Was she going to win? That would be unfair, my getting a second orgasm before she had her first one. I tried to ignore my increasing arousal, tried to control my pending orgasm by concentrating on what I was doing. Good, she also gasped, forgetting to lick for a moment, but then she did again. Could she do it better than I could? Fuck! My thighs were flapping, my toes curling! I could only gasp and moan and let it happen. My hips began to twitching in the grasp of her spread fingers - not just twitch! They were rising off the bed, as though trying to meet the thrusts of a cock in my pussy! The frame under the thin mattress was squeaking. Fuck! I was coming! My body spasmed, and my head jerked up, as I gasped again and again. She stopped licking, and all the tension went out of my body, my thighs flopping down, but I could feel that my pussy was still contracting. Then she licked again, and an aftershock shook me. For a few moments, she let me recover, long enough for me remember again that it was unfair for me to have had a second orgasm before her first one. Her hips had risen up off my face. I raised my head and began to lick again. She moaned and then sat up, letting me continue without having to hold my head up. "Yeah, now me," she demanded softly and ground her pussy on my mouth. I could only hope that she could enjoy it better now without the distraction of licking my pussy. Her moans sounded like maybe she could. Then her hands were on my breasts, grasping them, as though she needed something to hold onto, while her pelvis twitched. I reached up and found hers, and she responded with moaned "uhn-hnnn!" My fingers knew how to arouse nipples - only mine till now - now with both my hands. I hadn't done that to both mine since I first discovered that it felt good, before I discovered that it felt even better with one hand on my pussy. Back then, my fingers had only tickled them, delighting at how they had stiffened, delightful enough, I had thought. Now they knew that nipples could stand almost painful pinching, pulling, twisting, that they wanted that, especially when my other hand was rubbing my pussy. Hester's nipples also wanted that; she moaned and pinched mine. I was pleased that I could also arouse her with my hands, but also remembered that I wanted to suck and lick her nipples. Another time; now I was licking her pussy. If I couldn't as good as she had, it was still being very good for her, perhaps because my fingers were helping. She was moaning, and her hips were twitching, and her pussy juice was seeping down on my nose, making it difficult for me to breath, having to snort it out of my nostrils to take another breath, but then enjoying that I could taste it. She had her orgasm, I gave it to her, almost drowning in the flush of her pussy juice. She almost tore my hands off her breasts and collapsed back down over me. After two or three gasps and deep moans, she moved from her crouched position, moving down the bed and off me, extending her legs. We rolled together, embracing each other's legs, and both sighed with moans. I licked my lips with my tired tongue. It must have been a couple minutes before she slid her hand up my thigh and rubbed my ass, and then murmured: "I'm so glad you like to, too. It's so good." "It sure is, just unfair that I had it twice." "Hm-umm, you deserved it, and I enjoyed it both ways. Hm-hmm! And you deserve to catch up a little, since I've been doing it for a couple of years." "If you think so," I agreed, pleased with her logic, and also rubbed her ass. She rubbed mine again and after a moment asked: "Sleep here, or in our beds?" "Here," I replied immediately, only then wondering if I was suggesting that we always sleep together. "Um-hmm. Have to change the sheet before Bob spends the night again," she replied, sounding like she was assuming that we would, and reminding me that I also liked sex with a man. Had I forgotten? She slapped my ass gently and said: "Peepee." We got up and smiled a little wryly at each other, smirking slightly, and went to the bathroom. We both got the covers off our beds and turned off the light, spreading them over us. When she turned away from me, I curled up behind her and put my arm around her. She nodded, but when I held her breast, she murmured: "Be careful; they still hurt a little, didn't while you were pinching them." "Sorry, seemed like they wanted me to." "They did. Good night." "You too." It was still quite early, but we fell asleep. When I rolled over in the night, half asleep, I had forgotten that I was in bed with anyone and dozed off again, but then someone moved behind me. I assumed it was man, half a sleep, then remembering that he must be Bob. Then a soft hand slid over my side, and I realized that it must be Hester's, suddenly recalling why we were in bed together and how we got there. Her hand found my breast, and she rolled a little closer. When she didn't say anything, it occurred to me that sleeping with another girl could be for her so familiar that she did that without really waking up. I was very awake, however, not minding that she was holding my breast - I sure hadn't, when we got in bed together or when she was sitting on my face, wanting me to give her an orgasm with my tongue. I had, and had wanted to, but did I like sex with her - with a girl - as much as I did with a man? It sure seemed like it, I had to admit to myself, then rationalized that sex is sex, equally good with whomever - if it was really good, and it had been. Of course, I liked Hester a little differently now than I had anticipated, but it wasn't "love", and I didn't really "love" Bob. Sex with a man just let that word seem more appropriate. I drifted off to sleep wondering if all "Big City Girls" had my new attitude. Hester's hand and arm had disappeared when I woke up, opening my eyes and seeing that it was much too early to have to get up. How had she rolled over again without my noticing? She hadn't just rolled over, she had moved back closer to me; I now recognized that her ass were touching mine. That was nice, that we were still touching each other, if that was how she liked to sleep with other girls. I did too, now. Was I supposed to - did she expect me to - also roll over again and hold her breast? It had felt good in my hand - in both my hands, when I was licking her pussy and arousing her nipples. Were they still sore? She could tell me; I was beginning to like the idea of feeling my hand's holding one again, I didn't have to pinch it's nipple again - unless she wanted me to. Besides, rolling over and holding it would be a nice way to show that I really liked that we had fallen to sleep that way and everything we had done before we did. I moved away from her and rolled over and slid my hand over her side, discovering that it was going to have to slip under her arm to find her breast. She couldn't mind if that awakened her. On the contrary, when my hand did, she moved her arm to let it, and then murmured: "Nice. Good morning." "Um-hmm," I agreed, as my fingers slipped around her warm breast. It fit so nicely in my hand, felt so good in it. I asked: "Already awake?" "Not really, but I like that you are already - and like this." Her hand slid over mine and gently squeezed my fingers to her breast. Her legs straightened out, touching my knees, and then drew up again. Yes, we both wanted more body contact. I drew my thighs up behind hers, and she moved her hips back against me, squeezing my hand again. Then she chuckled softly and said: "If you were a man, I'd probably feel something else." "Um-hmm, but I'm not." "Just a remark; I wasn't suggesting that I wished you were." She rocked her hips back against me, and then her fingers encouraged mine to find her nipple. Apparently she thought we could do more - again? If she wanted to. I gently fondled her nipple. It thought so too, stiffening, and she moaned very softly. I murmured: "I wasn't wishing I was either. It's not sore any more." "Mmmm, not unless you want to make it sore again." "Not this way," I replied, flipping a finger over it. "I was hoping not." She rolled back against me and drew my hand down on her other breast. When I moved back to let her lie on her back, her near breast was going to free for my mouth to suck and lick. I did, it was, after she got her arm out of the way and behind my head. It didn't need to encourage me to lean over her and find it with my mouth, but it did, and I liked that it had. She had been right that sucking, licking, nibbling another girl's breast was almost as good as feeling that being done to my own. In response to her moan, I moaned. She also didn't have to encourage my hand to slide down to her pussy. It would have, but not as soon as her hand was drawing it down there, her fingers guiding mine down between her open thighs, which drew up, turning her pelvis up under my hand, my fingers on her pussy lips. I had wanted this, wanted to feel her pussy with my fingers, wanted to feel them in it. I just hadn't expected that she would want them to so soon. I sucked and nibbled, delighted that she moaned, and let her fingers show mine what she wanted them to do. My thighs clutched together; my pussy knew what it would like fingers to do. Her fingers knew what hers wanted mine to do. I moaned, when they wanted mine between her pussy lips, then her whole hand was urging mine to slide down further. My fingertips felt her opening and that it was moist. They didn't need any more encouragement. When they probed, she moaned, and I did. Her hand on mine let it slide further, and my fingers - yes, two at once! - slipped into her wet, warm pussy. We both moaned again. Of course, it felt for my fingers like when they were in my pussy, but it was differently arousing to feel them in hers, and that I could thrust them deeper in hers and wiggle and twist them more than I could in my own pussy. Hester moaned, and for a few moments her fingers were on the back of my knuckles urging my fingers to do what they were. Then her hand slid off mine and wanted to get under it. I raised it and tried to shove my fingers even a little deeper in her pussy, as I felt her fingers' finding where they wanted to rub. Yes, she wanted to help arouse herself just like we had aroused me. It was strange to have my fingers in a pussy without feeling them in mine. Not just strange, it was frustrating. The sensations my fingers were enjoying were so familiar, but I had never realized how I enjoyed them, but now I did. I had always been more enjoying the arousing sensations they were giving my pussy, but now they weren't. I concentrated on enjoying how good it felt for my fingers to be in Hester's pussy and on how they could arouse her, and how her pussy responded, more conscious of its contractions on my fingers than I had been, when I was arousing myself. I moaned with her, feeling her fingers under my hand rubbing as fast as they could. Her pussy was so slippery wet. When I finger-fucked myself, it didn't sound like what I was doing in her pussy. I moaned, not just in empathy with her moans, also because I was enjoying so much having my fingers in another girl's pussy and feeling how aroused it was. Her hips were twitching - like they had on my face. I wanted her orgasm as much as she did. She gasped and exclaimed: "Oh fuck! Fuck!" My fingers did. She gasped and said that again, and then gasped again, and suddenly my palm was full of warm pussy juice. I thought her fingers would stop rubbing, but they didn't, so mine also continued to move, and then her pussy flooded my hand again, as she gasped and moaned. Hers and then my fingers held still, and her hips relaxed. She gasped again and then sighed with a long moan, but her pussy was still contracting. Unconsciously, I moved my fingers in response. She gave a sharp, startled "Uhn!" I thought she would grab my hand, but she didn't. She gasped again, and I felt her fingers move under my hand, just slowly, but they were still where they had been, moving on her clitoris. If they wanted to, mine did too. She gave another short moan. It sounded just surprised, not startled, and her fingers continued to move, so mine also did. Then she snorted and asked: "You want me to again?" "If you want to?" I replied automatically. I was a little surprised by her question. In response to mine, she chuckled in her throat, and her fingers moved faster. She did! My fingers immediately made more wet noises again, and then her hips began to twitch again. She was gasping, and we both were moaning. My pussy couldn't be as wet as hers was, but it felt wetter than it ever had been without its being fucked or fingered. Worse, I also realized that I had to go to the bathroom. She had to come again, before I wet the bed! She did, filling my palm again with her warm pussy juice and, of course, with her more aroused gasps and moans. Relief for her, but not yet for me. When her fingers stopped moving, I pulled mine out and murmured: "Got to go." I sat up. As I was standing up, I licked my hand and fingers, more in a reflex at feeling her pussy juice about to drip. It didn't, but some ran down my forearm, and then I was rushing to the toilet. My strong and long flow had finished, when she joined me. Before I could stand up, she stepped in the shower and let hers flow. She turned her head and said with an apologetic expression: "I did too. God, but that was good." "It sure must have been. I wanted it to be." "It was, thanks." She closed the shower curtain and began her shower. I just sat there, pleased that I had been able to more than return the orgasm she had given me the evening before, then wondering if we were going to do it every night. Did I want to? What we had done - evening and morning - was more than with any man. No, Bob and I had done as much, but did Hester expect that we would every day? We would be having more sex together than I had ever imagined - and with another girl! Is that what happened at Sarah Lawrence, when roommates slept with each other? Were they over-sexed, if they did, or was I under-sexed, because it had never occurred to me want an orgasm every night, much less, three or four. Sometimes I had done it twice, but not like now with Hester, and sometimes I had gotten off a few nights in a row - and been chagrined at my debauchery. And now, was this how a Big City Girl was? I was still sitting on the toilet, when Hester opened the shower curtain, apparently surprised to see that I was. I flung her her towel, without having to stand up. She nodded her thanks with a smile, and began to dry herself. We had never been quite like this together in the bathroom, sure, naked, but not so obviously looking at each other. Was it my thought about that, or her looking at me, that made my nipples tighten? She smiled. She was drying her breasts, but then smirked slightly and made a point of rubbing the towel with her fingers on hers. Then one of her hands slide down and dried her pussy. "We don't have to do it every night. We didn't in college either," she remarked, reminding me that she pronounced "either" differently that I did. That was sort of an answer to my thoughts, but I heard myself replying: "And if we want to?" then feeling that my cheeks were flushing. Why had I said that? I had just told myself that I didn't need sex every night. Hester snorted and then smirked and said: "If you want to, have to say 'pretty please'." We both chuckled, grinning. I replied: "Or you do." She grinned, drying her ass, and suggested: "Pretty pussy, please." I nodded, then shook my head, and we snickered, almost laughing. I took my shower and hurried to get dressed, since we were behind schedule for breakfast and going to work. We parted with smirks. That evening, I was surprised that Hester was already back in the flat, then remembering that we hadn't folded up the sofabed, seeing that it now was. Okay, we didn't have to do it every night, didn't need the open bed in the living room suggesting that we did. That was Tuesday, and Wednesday the sofa remained just a sofa, but Thursday evening, one of us mentioned that something was pretty. We both chuckled at hearing the word, then smirking at each other. Then one of murmured: "Yours or mine?" I can't remember which of us said that, since either of us could have, as both of us did so often after that. One would say "pretty," and the other one would say "yours or mine." Like that first time, it didn't matter, the sofabed was opened up, and we were soon naked and with our faces between the other's thighs. "Yours or mine" didn't matter; we both want to see and lick a pretty pussy. We almost always did Thursday nights, even if we had more than once after our Saturday dates with Bob and Jim. We never did Fridays, agreeing to save it for Saturday and Sunday morning with them. That first Saturday morning, Hester reminded me to put a fresh sheet on the sofabed. That evening, as we were getting ready to meet them, humming and smirking, she asked me what I thought Bob and I were going to do. I remembered what he and I had done Sunday morning, also that Hester had been surprised that I like to suck his cock. She knew all about girls, and now I did, but I could surprise her again. I smirked and grinned and replied: "If he lets me, I want to suck his cock, and then crawl up and sit on his face, like we did Sunday morning, and then he'd better want to fuck me as good as he did then." She had asked, and after all we had done together, I figured I could be explicit. She was too, but surprised: "You want to suck his cock first?" Big City Girl Ch. 02 I liked her surprise; maybe I was a BCG, just different from her. Feeling a little superior, I replied: "Yeah, of course, I like to do it, and he sure does." "And want it all in your mouth, his first time?" I was enjoying her questioning surprise and teased her: "Especially, why I want to do it first." "If you like it - that much?" she replied with a dubious expression. I took pity with her attitude and said: "I'd better, better than I like your pussy, as much as I do, or else there is something wrong with me." "Never thought of that," she replied with frown, then adding: "Maybe I can too, if you think like that." I nodded and suggested: "Just get down between his legs, then you can lick him where he's most sensitive. He'll love it." "And then . . . all that in my mouth?" she murmured, still sounding dubious. "Won't taste any different, just more, as much as he can, and as good for him as he could want, why I like to do it and know that it's been so good for him." Hester looked at me, wrinkling her nose, and murmured: "Maybe I have been enjoying girls too much." "Not too much, thank you," I replied, adding: "But we do taste better, at least, I know that you do." "Hm-hmm! You do too, and not just I taste better," Hester replied with a wry expression. I snickered and said: "Don't tell him that, that you know that." We laughed. Then she remarked: "He knows that I do, well, taste good, maybe not that I taste better that he does." "Or a college classmate," I suggested with a smirk. "Oh, God, I hope not!" I did too, surprised at my spontaneous remark, then remembering that "my" Bob had a flatmate. We snickered and left the flat to meet them. Our Saturday night and Sunday morning were everything we hoped for. Bob's flatmate had promised that he wasn't going to return until morning, so we spent the night in his bed. His flatmate was surprised to find me still there, luckily clothed. We had shared a shower that got out of hand. Not that hands were involved, except for his then holding my ass, when my legs were up around his waist. When I told Hester that, she grinned and said that she had taken my advice, and that Jim had been surprised, but very much delighted, and that she had really enjoyed sucking and licking his cock that way, even if she didn't like the taste, but she didn't mind it now. I nodded with smile, silently feeling a little superior again, but also admitting to myself that I didn't really like how it tasted, just that it was so good to feel it shoot in my mouth and know that I had given him such a good orgasm. That evening at bed time, we caught each other glancing at the sofa. We smirked, then chuckled. She remarked: "Since we know we like men just as much, ..." "I don't have to say 'pretty please'?" I asked facetiously. She nodded with a grin and hum. This time on the sofabed, I really got to see her pussy in the light from the table lamp and thought it was lovely, just wondering how it could look different from mine or other girls'. Then I was discovering again how good a pussy tasted, and she was too. When I finally turned around, and we had embraced and kissed, she murmured: "We still taste better." "Um-hmm, we do," I agreed, then adding: "but it's nice to appreciate the difference." "And how nice it is to suck a cock," she enjoined, and we kissed again in agreement. From then on, Sunday night together became a regular way to finish the weekend, always after mentioning something about our liking men. I had stopped worrying about enjoying sex with another girl more often than with a man. If it was good, why not, I rationalized very easily, and it was a whole lot better than just masturbating, both ways: how she aroused me, and that I so much enjoyed licking and tasting her pussy. Sundays, before or after we had, we usually talked about what we done with them. We each had woken up feeling a cock between our thighs and then helped it find our pussies and enjoyed a long, lazy Sunday morning fuck. Bob's flatmate then always called up from the doorman's phone to warn us, since he and I could be in either flat, but usually in Hester's and mine, enjoying ourselves on the larger sofabed. He had been delighted the first time I suggested that we could use it. Hester also called before she came up. It was slightly embarrassing for Bob and me the first time that was necessary - in our flat. I answered the phone, having to ask her to wait a couple of minutes until we were dressed. Luckily, we had just been lying in bed after our morning sex. She tactfully knocked, waiting for a reply, before she unlocked the door, as did Bob's roommate the couple of times we spent the night in their flat. After the first time we used the sofabed, the next time I had it already opened up, left it open after I changed the sheet. Did we then fuck more that night? For sure, we started earlier, skipping over socially polite talk, having a drink or coffee. Maybe we did fuck more, since in the morning, his cock wasn't trying to get between my thighs. When it then might have wanted to, it was in my mouth, and I wasn't going to let it go anywhere. Hester's and my talking about how we had spent Saturday night, when we were lying together Sunday evenings became sort of a ritual, reaffirming to ourselves that we liked sex with men as much as we did with each other. I don't know if Hester considered that was a reason for our always talking about sex with cocks, but I did. After enjoying licking her pussy again and being aroused by her tongue and fingers, I needed a little reminder that I liked a cock in my pussy and in my mouth just as much. Maybe she didn't need a reminder, but she enjoyed telling in arousing detail what she and Jim had done, and I enjoyed listening and reciprocating. Maybe we competed a little, not just in telling details but also in what we did with the men. That probably started when I told her that Bob had surprised me by asking me to kneel on the bed and had then fucked me from behind. When I enthused about how good that had been, the next Sunday evening, Hester was eager to tell me that she and Jim had done it that way. Jim had been surprised by her suggestion, but had been delighted. She added the detail that his hips had been slapping against her ass. Bob's had been too, against mine the week before, but I hadn't mentioned that. When she did, however, I interjected that their slapping together couldn't have been louder than what Bob and I had done. We slapped each other's ass with our hand, chuckling. We didn't just tell; we commented about what the other one was describing. So the details got better. We had both told about waking up and feeling an aroused cock probing between our thighs and that we had then had a nice, easy, and long fuck. The next time Hester told about that, she included telling that both their hands had also been rubbing her clitoris. That didn't surprise me; I had assumed that they had done that, since Bob's and my fingers always did. I knew how good it was to be fucked and have my clitoris aroused. When she described it that Sunday evening, however, telling how their fingers had been rubbing and how good it had felt, I asked: "Better than my tongue?" I had just wanted to make a fresh comment, but she was surprised and then almost shocked, asking: "You want to lick my pussy, while he's fucking me?" Then I was surprised, also shocked; that wasn't what I asked, but I suddenly envisioned what she was suggesting: my licking her clitoris with a cock moving in and out her pussy - right in front of my nose! And if it was in front of my nose, I must be lying so that she could lick my pussy - three of us naked in bed together, and his seeing what we did with each other! Wasn't I supposed to prefer to suck his cock instead, if it was right there in front of my face? "I didn't say that," I replied softly, but still with the mental image of what she had suggested. Then I hid my confusion by asking: "Would you want to, lick mine while he's fucking me?" "Jim or Bob?" I recognized that she was avoiding replying to what I had asked, so she must have also realized what she had suggested. "That wasn't the question," I replied, feeling less shocked. "Oooh! I don't know, I don't think so. Shit! All three of us ... like that?" She also had my mental image, just maybe not including her also licking my pussy, but if I were going to lick hers, while she was being fucked, that would be the least she could do to be fair. To really be fair, then we would have to do it the other way, with him fucking me. Who, Bob or Jim? Just any cock, and she licked so good, better than fingers. "Wasn't that what you were suggesting?" I asked, but admitting to myself that - in principle - it sounded like a very good idea. She gave a nervous chuckle and replied: "I thought you did, ... at least, that was what I was beginning to think." We both giggled like embarrassed school girls. Our hands were still on the other's ass and rubbed. I agreed: I guess you did, guess you could have; then I did too." "Hmm?! Your tongue would be better." "Yours too," I agreed. "And with him fucking you?" "If he wanted to?" I replied, thinking of Jim, then generously adding: "Or if Bob did with you, better than my fingers in your pussy." "Uhmmm! If you say so, better than mine in yours." "Hm-hmm! If you also say so," I agreed. When my hand slid back over her hipbone, hers slid over mine. We both hummed, and our fingers slid further, exploring in pussy hair. We both moaned, raising our thighs a little, inviting the other's fingers to find where our pussies wanted to be arouse. They did, and we moaned again, chuckling. That was good, but we had been talking about fingers in each other's pussy. Was hers wet enough for that? It felt like mine was. My fingers slid down between her pussy lips. She nodded with moan and drew her thigh up on mine, turning her pelvis up, making her opening more available for my fingers. It was wet enough. She chuckled with a moan, as her hand pushed deeper between my thighs. I drew my foot up, raising her thigh with mine. My fingers slipped into her pussy, and hers slid into mine. "Mmmm, uhm-hmm," we both moaned, then moaning again, as our fingers wiggled and twined in each other. I was thinking her fingers must enjoy being in my pussy as much as mine enjoyed being in hers, exploring the difference between where it was softer and firmer. It felt like hers were too, and felt arousing. That was more interesting than holding a cock,. not more interesting that licking and sucking one, however. I moaned, and she did, but then chuckled and murmured: "Better than doing it to ourselves." "Um-hmm, and better doing it to you." "Um-hmm, nice pussy; my fingers like it," she replied, "Mine, yours too," I agreed. We made each other moan, more humming chuckles, as we felt our pussies contract, sharing our recognition that our fingers were arousing each other. They did for several seconds. We both just moaned without chuckling, feeling more aroused. Then I remembered our previous remarks and said: "But not as good as a cock." "Hm-hmm, no, of course not. Her fingers began to fuck me. I hadn't intended to suggest they do that, but I didn't object and began to finger-fuck her pussy in return. She chuckled with a nod and then moaned - and made me moan. It couldn't be as good as being fucked by cock, I thought, but immediately recognized that I was just rationalizing that a cock should feel better; what her fingers were doing ... - now a third one also in my pussy! - were feeling so arousing. She moaned, when my index finger joined the other two in her pussy. I thought we had talked enough, that we just wanted to give each other our orgasms, but then her fingers stopped fucking, just moving deep in my pussy. She chuckled in her throat and asked: "And you want someone to lick your pussy, while he's fucking you?" My fingers plunged into her pussy a couple of more times before I replied: "Wouldn't you?" Her fingers began to fuck me again, as mine continued. Then she murmured: "Of course it would be good. Oh, you want me to do that too? Don't think I can with one hand." "Just fuck me," I replied, understanding her implication that she couldn't finger-fuck me and also rub my clitoris. Her fingers fucked, and mine did, both of us moaning, as our fingers tried to fuck as good as cocks could. When her hips twitched, mine did, and then she exclaimed softly: "Oh fuck!" I looked forward to feeling her pussy fill my palm with her pussy juice again, and wasn't disappointed, just a little, that my orgasm didn't make that happen. After our moans were just sighs, she pulled her fingers out and put them all in her mouth, sucking and licking them with smiling eyes. With a wet slurp, I took mine out of her pussy. As I was about to do the same, it occurred to me first to wipe my wet palm on her cheek. I did and then had my fingers in my mouth, enjoying the taste of her pussy juice. I still was, when she removed her fingers and grinned and said: "We still taste better," and wiped her cheek and licked her fingers again. I nodded, taking my fingers out of my mouth. She snickered and remarked: "And almost as good as cock - your fingers." "Yours too, maybe just as good. I was thinking a cock must be better, but then thought that I was just wanting to think it must be. Now I'm really not sure." "Hmm? Me neither, now that you've said that - just as fucking good." "Your orgasm sure seemed like it was." It was, when I come like that, better than a lot of times, back when guys came in a minute and thought that was it." "Don't have to tell me!" I agreed. We embraced, our thighs overlapping, our breasts pressed together, as we kissed, our tongues trying to find traces of our own pussy juice in the other's mouth. That was the only time that we just finger-fucked each other at the same time, but it wasn't the only time that our talking about sex with the men resulted in our having sex with each other a second time.