0 comments/ 28244 views/ 1 favorites Fara, My First By: melisande [This is a longish, true story about my first lesbian experience that is best read at a leisurely pace. Enjoy.] * * * * * I met Fara during my freshman year at Brown University when we lived in the same dorm. Initially, I was puzzled about her heritage. She had creamy light brown skin and impossibly big almond eyes, and although she had grown up in Wessex, she was certainly not Caucasian. During one of those inane freshmen orientation parties, we drifted to the margins of the excessively cheerful group and became involved in a more meaningful conversation. I asked her if she thought I had a slight accent, she replied in her crisp British one that mine seemed merely American. I told her about my Venezuelan heritage to break the ice, and asked her about her own background. Her father was a half-White, half-Indian British University professor who had taken an extended vacation in Thailand during his mid 30's. There, he had met and wooed a native Thai girl. Fara was the glorious product of this union. She looked like one of those wide-eyed goddesses depicted in the Eastern religious art I was only faintly acquainted with. She was petite and toned, but the most amazing thing about her was her skin. I remember realizing it for the first time during the late summer of that first school year. She was wearing a thin cotton sun dress that exposed her smooth brown shoulders and arms. As I hugged her, my hands rested upon her back; I was surprised at the suppleness of the flesh that slipped so lightly beneath my fingers. "Oh my God, your skin is so soft! What moisturizer do you use?" I asked, even as we were locked in an embrace. Her smile tickled my ear. "Oh none. I inherited my mother's skin." During those early months, we talked for hours about cultural differences, bilingual identity, the altruism conundrum, the delusion of love. From that day on, we were inseparable. We went down to the dining hall together every night and edited each other's papers. When we were irritated by our respective roommates, we sat in the dorm the hallway and giggled incessantly about their inexcusable eccentricities. When either of us were actually sexiled by said roommates, we shared a bed. We understood each other intuitively and our emotional closeness was mirrored in our physical affection. We cuddled innocently in bed, tickling and wrestling safely under the guise of heterosexual female friendship. People insinuated that maybe we were more than friends, but we just laughed at their inability to comprehend the intimacy possible in a platonic relationship. I just didn't understand why I felt so happy holding her, pressing her firm curves against me as we lay in bed. I felt like I didn't need anything else in my life. We nuzzled our noses into each other's fragrant hair, and held on tight before falling asleep. Once, I remember she told me how much she loved me and how impossibly glad she was that she had met me. She kissed my cheek lightly and then stared into my eyes. Softly, she went on to kiss my other cheek, my forehead, the tip of my nose, in rapid succession. When her lips returned to my cheek, they grazed the corner of my own mouth. I felt an impulse to turn my head, but I questioned it, and by the time I had decided to return her kiss, her lips had moved back up to my forehead. With baited breath, I waited for her to resume her smattering of kisses, but she seemed to have sensed my tension and she responded by lying her head peacefully on my shoulder and sighing. Suddenly, I was aware of her pert breasts pressed firmly against my own softer, larger ones. My breathing quickened. Were her nipples hard beneath her t-shirt, or was that just my imagination? I considered the relative thinness of the cotton barrier between the skin of our breasts. My own nipples hardened in response, and I panicked. I told myself that it was only natural to have sexual thoughts about the best friend you were so close to, regardless of their sex. I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep. I remember a dream I had that night. I was suspended above her glorious brown body. I was free to explore all of the soft peaks and valleys at my leisure. I worked methodically from top to bottom, and she writhed becomingly beneath me. I woke up suddenly in the early morning. We were had settled into a spooning position during the night spent on the tiny twin bed. My hand was cupping her breast. For a moment, I lingered on its softness, giving it an almost imperceptible squeeze, but as soon I felt her body shift, I freaked out and deftly withdrew it. I realized that I was in love with her during our Sophomore year, when we shared a one bedroom apartment. We had gone to a local bar with our group of friends and Fara had been approached by an incredibly cute guy. They talked intensely across the bar from me, and I occasionally looked up from my conversation to see how they were doing. I noticed that the guy seemed mesmerized by her beauty and articulation, and I felt excited and happy for her. He leaned in and lovingly brushed away a stray lock of her silky black hair. She beamed at him. I ordered another gin and tonic. Five minutes later I had abandoned all attempts at conversation with our group of friends and was just staring at the new couple intensely, wincing at the thinly veiled implications of their body language. "Ok, enough already. Just exchange numbers and let's leave," I whispered behind the smile I threw in their direction. There was no danger of her hearing me, she hadn't even noticed my staring. She whispered something of her own in his ear and he stammered a response. I couldn't turn away. I noticed that her high nipples were hard beneath her fitted white cotton t-shirt when she finally turned to face me. They both walked towards me, arm in arm. "We're going for a walk. I'll see you back in the apartment later, drunkie," she said. I responded with a deep nod. Three more gin and tonics later, I stumbled into the apartment building. Everything would be ok, I told myself in the elevator. That guy was probably just a stupid jock and she had probably realized it during their walk. She would probably be sleeping alone upstairs and I could just climb into bed with her and cuddle like always. Neither of us had dated a single guy during our first year I college and we always joked that we didn't need anybody but each other. The front door was unlocked and I planned to jokingly berate her for leaving us exposed to the horny would-be-rapists frat boys that lived across the hall. The bedroom door was ajar and the Tori Amos song that was playing came to a finish as my hand was on the bedroom. "Yes, yes, yes.....," she whimpered. Was she masturbating? A small lamp was on inside the bedroom; I peeked in before entering. She lay on the floor, the guy's head buried between her thighs. She undulated frantically, her toned brown stomach flexing. I was paralyzed. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth opened and closed slowly, she swallowed deeply. The guy was rubbing his face in her pussy, lapping,, probing, sucking. His tongue and her juices made slurping noises. She whimpered, "Yes.....yes.....God, fuck me, fuck me now." He lifted his head from between her brown thighs and in one swift motion, turned her so that she was on her back. He slid a hand between her thighs, and she lifted her ass in response, still undulating. It shined wet with her juices in the lamp light. As he kneeled behind her, rubbing her pussy, his veined, red cock stood petulantly. She moaned and leaned back, rubbing her ass and exposed genitals against his cock. He spread her with one hand and with the other guided his cock past her ripe lips. She gasped sharply as he slipped inside of her. He bucked wildly, his hands squeezing her slim waist and moving it to meet his thrusts. I felt an unmistakable warmth spreading from my lower belly to between my thighs. I felt myself swaying softly, humping the fantasy of a cock. No, not that ugly cock of the jock, but her, only her. Her firm softness. Her slender brown hand that was now frantically rubbing her own nipple. Her whole hand inside of me, ramming into me. Her tongue, her lips sucking at my folds, teasing my clit, nipping at it, sucking it, pulling on it...oh, god.... I was distracted from my reverie as he grunted as he began thrusting harder, her hands gripped the shaggy carpet as she supported herself. They swayed back and forth frantically as he slammed into her. I could hear his hairy balls slapping against her ass. The firm, high breasts I had never been allowed to see swung violently as she took his thrusts. "Ride me...fuck me...oh...god...yes...yes...yes...fuck me...," she moaned. He only grunted in response, but he rammed into her more frantically. They looked like animals, like monkeys or dogs fucking. My momentary arousal had turned to disgust. I turned from the scene and stumbled into the bathroom. How could she let him touch her, his rough hands on her silken skin? He didn't know her, he couldn't even really turn her on. She was faking it for him, and that could be fun, but it wasn't real. I knew it. God, how could she let him touch her? He was touching every part of her, possessing her. Angry as hell, I grabbed the 8 inch silicone dildo that we kept underneath the bathroom sink. I could hear their cries from inside the bathroom; things had gotten rougher. "I'm fucking you, Cunt!" he cried out. "Yes, fuck me, fuck me...harder...i love it...oh, oh god, fuck me!" There was a crash as something fell to the floor. An enormous thud vibrated the mirror on the bathroom wall. The thin wall was being banged rhythmically. He was fucking her standing up against the wall. I straddled the closed toilet, facing the banging wall, the dildo beneath me. I slammed my own body onto it, violently and destructively aroused, defying the sorrow that dragged down my soul. I fucked it, keeping in rhythm with their slamming on the other side. The vibrations from the wall heightened my arousal. I imagined him fucking her from behind, she was facing me, she didn't want to look at him. I imagined her face before me, as we were both being fucked, penetrated by big cocks. Tears began to stream down my face. Violated, we both were. I worked the plastic cock frantically, I could feel nothing good inside of my body except for the buzzing pleasure in my snatch. That's all. Just sex. I rocked frantically back and forth, keeping in rhythm with their fucking. I imagined her flanks shivering, her ass quivering, as he rammed her into the wall. I clenched my own pussy tightly around the dildo, as I worked it up and down. The juices that now streamed onto my thighs made my frantic movements glide easier. We banged in harmony. I wanted to fuck her pussy, exploring all of the wet, plump layers, making her moan, then ramming into her, slamming her against the wall, until her pussy clamped and quivered around my hand and she whimpered and bucked wildly. I threw my head back, as my spasms peaked. I roughly slammed my body against the huge plastic cock one last time, and slammed my own head against the wall in the process. Before I passed out, I wondered if she had noticed the noise. TO BE CONTINUED... Fara, My First Ch. 2 [The following story is the continuation of "Fara, My First", which is in the Erotic Couplings Category. I've placed this part in the Lesbian Category because I wanted to ensure that my story reached a queer audience. This, the second part, can be read without the first.] * * * * * I woke up on the bathroom floor a couple of hours later, wearing the pink t-shirt I remembered having worn to the bar, my jeans were crumpled in a corner. I could feel the dildo between my legs. As I raised my head, nausea and pain swept over me. I struggled to kneel and raised the toilet lid. The dildo was still half inside of me as I leaned over the toilet, and the contents of my stomach rushed past my lips in a powerful stream. I allowed the contractions to overtake my body until I was fully purged. Leaning on the toilet bowel with bile coating my lips, the tips of my long curly hair dangling in the toilet, and a used dildo halfway inside of me, I felt that I had hit rock bottom. I shut my eyes and was confronted with scenes from last night. Fara being fucked by that jock. Tears streamed past my shut lids. A sob escaped my lips before I could stifle it. I had to be quiet; I didn't want her to know what state I was in. "What a way to realize you're in love with your best friend. What a way to realize that you're queer," I thought wryly to myself. I looked at my watch. It was 5:30am. I wiped my face and stood up slowly. My head spun as I looked in the mirror. A small purple bruise marked my forehead where it had slammed into the wall. I had to see if she was sleeping, then I could clean up and get into bed before she knew anything about what I had done. I opened the bathroom door quietly and padded to the bedroom. The blinds weren't drawn and the sun had just begun to rise. She was sprawled on her bed, naked beneath her red kimono robe and as beautiful as ever. She must have sent the jock home. But she had still fucked him. I was overcome with the urge to slap her. I wanted to lunge forward and grab those slim shoulders and shake her, ask her why she had done it. Had she enjoyed it? But she didn't owe me anything, even if I was in love with her. I wondered if she had known all along how I felt. Had she been teasing me? No, she hadn't. I knew that she wasn't that type of person. She was an innocent vixen, if such a thing existed. I released my anger and grabbed my towel before returning to the bathroom. As I showered, I felt my soaped up pussy. It was sore from my shenanigans with the dildo last night and I felt ashamed for having spied on her, for having fucked myself as I spied on her. I had been reduced to these perversions by the power of my unrequited love for her. This couldn't go on. I needed to talk to her, to tell her how I felt. The hot water felt fantastic as I rigorously soaped up my body. I wanted to wash all of it away, to come to her clean and pure, and then explain how I felt. I heard the door creak, and then her groggy-but-crisp British morning voice: "Hey, can I come in?" she said. My breathing quickened. Of course, we frequently used the sink while the other was in the shower. But I wondered frantically if she had seen me watching her last night, or heard me fall. I calmed myself with the thought that if she had heard me slam my head against the wall last night, she would certainly have come to see if I was alright. "Sure, sure," I stammered after my pensive pause. I could hear her splashing water on her face as she talked. "Crazy night last night, huh? I ended up sleeping with that guy from the bar. Well, not 'sleeping' really, more like fucking. I sent him packing before he could do any sleeping. He was a jock, but sweet in his own way and a rather good lay…and you know I haven't gotten any since I came here, except for that girl freshman year. So, did you end up crashing at Emily's for a few hours before coming back?" I dropped the soap. Before I could think about a response, I blurted, "Fara! What girl freshman year? When? How?" "Oh, you know, it was just before you and I had gotten really close. I went to the Meow Mixer with a couple of chummy dykes from my 20th century American Art class, and I met this older chick, a grad student. Russian Literature. She was pretty keen on me. I got pretty high, and we went back to her place. Damned nice place it was, for a grad student budget. " "So, you slept with her? What was it like?" "Well, it was sex. Sex is sex is sex. I used to have a lot of it before I came here and wrapped myself up in a cocoon with you. Not that I mind, darling. You're all I need, really." I could tell she was smiling as she said this. She meant it, I knew it. She didn't need anyone else but me. But why then? Why hadn't we been together if she was so flexible about her sexuality? My heart was beating fast. All I had to do was lead the conversation in that direction by asking her questions about her experience with the grad student. I could tell her about my own, newly discovered sexual openness. I could suggest… Again, I had hesitated too long. She quickly said, " Well I'll see you in the room, babes. Do come and cuddle with me when you're done," and pranced out of the bathroom. My heart flapped wildly in my chest as I absentmindedly scrubbed my body. Was it possible? It was possible. Possible! I could kiss her, I could touch her, I could feel her incredible, brown velvety skin against mine, she could writhe for me. My heart soared. Doubt soon unsettled me. I realized that the fact that she had had at least one sexual experience with a girl didn't mean she would be open to one with me. Furthermore, in all of our cuddling sessions, she had never tried anything. Or had she? I considered that whisper of a kiss; our lips had brushed. And that one time, when my head rested against her chest, didn't she pull closer, her erect nipple grazing my lips through the cotton of her shirt? As her hands rubbed my back vigorously, then almost frantically, she had pulled me closer. Didn't our breathing quicken simultaneously with those exquisite pangs of near-pain? In that moment, I had felt what I think desire and love are supposed to be, that we could consume each other, that the need of each other was so great it obliterated consciousness. I realized that it had been the most erotic moment of my life. And it was probably autoerotic. She was probably never aware of it. Probably or only possibly? I swore under my breath. I admitted to myself that I loved her. It didn't seem strange at all, even though I had never felt such strong sexual feelings towards a woman. And I decided that I would not cower before my feelings. The profound dismay I had felt last night as I watched her being fucked by that jock fueled me to take action. I rinsed my body, vigorously rubbed my body dry, threw on my terry cloth robe, and strode meaningfully into the bedroom. She had gotten back into bed. "Lay down with me," she murmured from beneath the covers. I nervously complied. We were both wearing only robes as we spooned. I could feel the hotness of my own breath deflected from the back of her brown neck. She snuggled in, and stroked my arm that rested on her stomach. "Fara, I love you," I said quickly. "I love you too," she replied automatically, as she always did. This was it. I would take the plunge. No analyzing. I would say it, come what may. "In all ways, you know…" I spat it out and waited, tense. I felt her back stiffen against my breasts almost imperceptibly, then relax. Suddenly, she turned to face me. She stared into my eyes as we held each other, and I couldn't read what was in hers. "I know," she said. She kissed my cheek. It burned like sex. She kissed my nose, then the side of my mouth. My breath quickened and my entire face tingled. Finally, her lips pressed against mine. My heart beating wildly, I returned it with my whole body. A flurry of rapid kisses turned into a languorous kiss, the softest kiss I'd ever had. Our tongues lapped timidly at one another, our lips were fused into a single undulating entity. My hands found her silky black hair and pushed her mouth further into mine. She pressed her body against mine and rubbed her pelvis against mine. Our tongues wrestled more frantically, I pulled back slightly to suck her bottom lip, tenderly nipping at the plump flesh between my lips. She moaned, and pushed her mouth against mine. We writhed together and my self-consciousness about the situation was obliterated. I could only feel this, tasting her sweet tongue and lips, feeling our bodies moving tightly together. She moaned again into my mouth. I ran one of my hands down her back, and up around her slim waist. She moved more frantically, and my fingers found the opening in the folds of her silk robe. My hand blazed across her skin until it came to that perky mound and the bud of flesh that adorned it. I circled it with a fingertip, then squeezed it and rubbed it in between my fingers. Her response was intense, she moaned louder into my mouth and grinded frantically against me. Her kiss slackened as she focused on the pleasure I was giving her by rubbing her nipple, and I took the opportunity to break away from the kiss. Pushing apart the robe, I bent to kiss her stomach and she turned onto her back as I straddled her. Now both of my hands could feel her glorious breasts, as I kissed her naked body from the navel upwards. Finally, my tongue reached the underside of her breasts, and her entire body rose in response. I relocated my hands to her neck, and began licking, teasingly, towards her nipples. As my lips finally locked on her right nipple, I marveled at the sweetness of the taste. I flicked it rapidly with my tongue and she bucked wildly beneath me. Glancing up, I could see in the light of the new morning that her eyes were closed and her mouth stretched into an "O" shape as she moaned. Still sucking her breast, I brought my hands down to the flat expanse of her stomach and stroked it teasingly. I traced her skin down to the incredibly soft skin of her inner thighs. But she was too hot to endure my teasing. She lifted her hips, frantically trying to make her pussy come into contact with my hand. Enjoying the softness of her skin too much, I let my hand move to clasp her firm, perky ass. She wiggled vigorously and moaned. Finally, she grabbed my hand and guided it to her pussy. I laid my palm flat against the curling hair of her unshaven pussy and pressed into it deeply; I could feel her wetness squeezing out. She whimpered. I had never done this before, and I hesitated for a moment. But I knew my own body, and I definitely knew how to get myself off. Again, I decided to take the plunge without thinking, literally this time. As I slid two fingers past her opening, she moaned meaningfully. "Fuck me….oh, God! Yes, fuck me!" she said. She felt too loose for my two fingers, probably from last night's fucking. I would show her that my hand could be better than any dumb jock's dick. Quickly, I withdrew my two fingers enough to allow me to slam four fingers into her sopping pussy. "Yes! Fuck me!" she cried. I rammed my hand back and forth, paying extra attention to her g-spot. She bucked wildly, and I was amazed at the effect I was inducing in her. I concentrated on my hand, I was inside of her, and I could feel her, all of her. The slippery walls of her pussy, the ridged surface of her g-spot, the smooth cervix that jutted from the bottom. Her pussy was making slurping noises as my hand pushed in and out of her. A faint, sweet and sour odor reached my nostrils. My own pussy quivered as I allowed myself to linger on the feeling and smell of her feminine insides. I kept moving my arm back and forth. Her response was incredible. She bucked wildly and her moans escalated. "Oh, yes, baby, oh yeah…that's so good…ohhhh baby, it's so good, I can't believe it!" Her response invigorated me, I couldn't imagine ever getting tired. I leaned on her, and let my body rock in rhythm with hers. Frantically I rubbed that secret spot. She whimpered and reached out blindly to grab my breast. She rubbed my nipple, and I could tell when the pleasure got really intense for her because she pinched it almost painfully. I could tell she was close to cumming. I slowed down and brought my left hand to her clitoris. I rubbed it and squeezed it as I massaged her g-spot. She was definitely close to orgasm, I could feel the beginnings of the contractions. But using both hands was awkward. Impulsively, I brought my face down to her pussy and pressed it against her mound. I inhaled her scent; it wasn't as pungently spicy as my own, it was more like warm, most sourdough bread. I licked and sucked at her clit, occasionally pulling at it gently with my teeth, as I massaged her g-spot. "Oh god….I'm cumming…yes…fuck me harder…I love you!" I happily complied, thrusting my hand faster, making sure it rubbed her spot. Her pussy began to convulse around my hand, and she ground her pussy against my face, pushing it down with both of her hands. She mewled like a cat and lifted her whole body off the bed as the sensations coursed through her. Finally, she laid down, sweaty and tired. She pulled me up and held me lovingly. I had made her orgasm. I was so turned on, I felt little electric sparks throughout my body emanating from my wet pussy. "God, I love fucking you're pussy," I said. She smiled. "You were incredible. I can't believe I was your first." "Fara, I think I'm queer," I said. "I noticed," she said with a laugh. "Is it normal that I feel this way, and I don't think it's a big deal? Because this just feels so natural to me," I asked. "Anything is normal. Sex is sex is sex," she repeated. "But your initiation isn't complete," she added with a sly smile. She pushed me playfully onto my back and pulled apart my robe. I felt her eyes appraise my body with appreciation. She kissed my parted lips and pressed her body against mine. My heart fluttered, I hadn't really expected her to reciprocate. Pulling back a bit, she clasped my breasts and then brought her face close, flicking my nipples with her little cat tongue. My whole body shuddered, I felt close to cumming right then. I yearned for her to envelop me with her softness. She trailed soft kisses and tantalizing little bites down my to my stomach. Frantically, I pushed her hands down to my own pussy, and when her fingers entered me, it was hot, wet bliss. When she began to lick me, I bucked wildly. I moaned and tossed my head, biting on a pillow to keep from screaming. The feel of her soft black hair draped onto my stomach and hips as she sucked my clit pushed me over the edge. I came in record time, clasping my legs around her smooth, brown body. It was the most intense orgasm of my life. Afterwards, we lay naked wrapped together, in a cocoon of softness I had never experienced with a man. "You sure are easy to please," she said with a sly smile on her face. "Oh, but I'm not pleased yet," I said as I sat up and flipped her onto her back. We didn't go to class that day.