3 comments/ 68520 views/ 9 favorites Becoming Sisters Ch. 01 By: So drained Pledging a sorority wasn't exactly what I had expected it to be. I knew there would be some difficult moments, where I was forced to confront myself in ways I usually avoided, but I looked forward to those, thinking I would grow from that sort of challenge. What I didn't expect was the intensity of sisterly feelings that the whole process would generate, that I would come to feel so inseparable from my pledge sisters in every imaginable way. I never gave much thought to joining a sorority, let alone becoming an Alpha, until my roommate Paige said that she was going to rush and convinced me to visit some of the houses with her. I'm generally independent minded and not especially interested in meeting frat boys or wandering around campus in identical dresses with a bunch of girls who look just like me. I didn't think a sorority would have anything to offer me; I didn't need to join a club to have friends. Nevertheless, Paige and I made a whirlwind tour of the different houses, and I have to admit they mostly seemed the same to me, the girls included, lots of girls who smiled too hard, with dyed blonde hair and clothes that didn't quite fit right. I wasn't impressed, and I didn't really care if I impressed any of them, which had the effect of doing just that. Everyone told me how poised I was, how natural. What was weird was how the sorority sisters at so many of the houses would so overtly check the new girls out, not just for their personalities and stuff like that, but would check out their bodies, staring at our breasts and calves and asses like all the leering frat guys do. Were they afraid we'd be competition, that we'd make them look bad by comparison? Or was it the opposite, were they trying to make sure we would uphold the sorority's reputation? I couldn't tell. I knew I was fairly attractive, that my body was normal; I was well-proportioned and had a pretty symmetrical face. My breasts were round and firm, curvy but not heavy. A high-school boyfriend told me I had a "sweet ass and great legs" which embarrassed me to no end at the time, but that I secretly thought about a lot to reassure myself during those awkward years. Still I wasn't sure why these girls needed to look at me so intently. I felt strangely aware of myself as a body, and I didn't really like it. At one of the houses, I finally asked one of the sisters what was up. After some small talk about my purse and my shoes, I asked, "This might be weird, but I swear that some of the girls here have been, you know, checking me out." The sister, her name was Ashley, probably, or Kaitlyn, they all seemed to be named one or the other, played dumb for a minute, but after I reassured her I wasn't offended by it or anything, she said rather cryptically, "You know, the female form is beautiful. It's something we care about a lot, feminine beauty. We spend a lot of time together in the sorority," she said. "It's no fun looking at girls with a bad figure." Ashley had room to talk; hers wasn't bad at all. In fact, I would have sworn she had her boobs done, they were so balloon-like, packed into a dress that was a size or two too small. "You like 'em, huh," she said when she noticed me looking. I almost blushed. It was too stupid. "It's alright, I like them too. My graduation present. It was either these or a car. I don't know, boobs seemed like more fun. I guess I'm just that kind of girl," she laughed. She took another sip of punch, I'm guessing it wasn't her first glass. "It was weird, when I first got them, I couldn't get used to the idea that they were mine, you know. That I was really seeing myself in the mirror. I could tell the guys were staring at me more, and I started wearing tighter clothes, you know, to take advantage. But it wasn't like they were looking at me at first, it was like they were seeing someone else, and I was watching that person too, but from the inside. Does that make any sense?" "Sort of," I said. "But mine are still natural." "When I first got them, I wanted everyone to touch them, I didn't care who. I couldn't keep my own hands off them. I wanted to make sure they were real, that they were there, and it wasn't some dream. That I really wasn't that flat-chested tomboy anymore." "It's hard to believe that you ever were," I told her. She smiled as though I had flattered her and made a flirty pout at me. "I still like to let people touch them," she said. At first I thought I hadn't heard her right but then she pressed close to me, just for a second, so that our chests actually brushed against each other. Something in my face must have showed how surprised I was, because she excused herself quickly after that, and I never saw her again. Everything was different when Paige and I visited the Alpha house though. The girls seemed more like women, capable and comfortable in their skins. There was less superficial conversation about makeup and clothes and lots of talk about ambitions and community activism, academic standards, that sort of thing. These seemed like professional women of the future, and they spoke of the networking advantages to be had by being connected with the sorority. It seemed like a real opportunity to set oneself up for a strong career after college rather than a chance to fuck frat boys and get drunk. I was surprised and impressed. So was Paige. In the long evening we spent there, all the Alpha sisters were extremely composed and genteel, formal without seeming frosty. It seemed as though they had all internalized that kind of solicitous and considerate politeness that seemed to have disappeared from the world centuries ago. I always felt that all the girls I talked to were really interested in me, my hopes and plans, my ideas. And the ideas they volunteered were always interesting, idiosyncratic, thoughtful. Sure, they were a little more conservative then I was used to, but they made compelling cases for a more traditional approach to womanhood that didn't seem to include subservience to men. "There's nothing to be gained by stridency," Pauline, one of the sisters told me. I don't always notice these things, but Pauline was incredible looking, the most beautiful person I had ever seen in the flesh, with that expensive looking skin and the gleaming smile and shiny black hair that was perfectly straight and styled with something close to genius in a braid like I'd never seen before. While I talked to her, something in the way she spoke commanded respect and sympathy but without making her seem cold or fearsome. She was like one of those impossibly well-spoken women in 1930s movies that my mom always made me watch with her on Turner Classic Movies. In the end, after an extensive interview process and the provision of references and recommendations, Paige and I were both pretty excited to get bids, which we accepted, and the next thing we knew we were part of a pledge class with three other girls, Beth, Monica and Eva. For the rest of the semester, the five of us would become a we. I wouldn't spend a waking hour without being in their company. By the time things were over, I could finish there thoughts and they mine. There wasn't a secret I had from them, and I knew everything about them too. I knew I could make them cry or laugh with a word. I could make them feel whatever was necessary. They could do the same to me. We were that close. We even knew just how to make one another come, the special places that we liked to be touched, the kinds of words whispered that would make us crazy. For the first few weeks of pledging, we came to the house only to clean it, or perform tasks of drudgery, like peeling potatoes or folding towels, or sorting and folding the sisters' laundry, hand-washing their delicates. I wouldn't have thought they could go through so much lacy underwear in a week. We were forced to memorize the Alpha creed, which extolled the virtues of the house and the ideals of beauty and respect they represented, along with the five rules of pledging, which we were forced to recite over and over again. If we dropped out any words or misspoke, we would have to start over from the beginning, at first. Later the spankings were introduced. Mostly though, we got to know each other. I already knew Paige, of course. We met upon moving into the dorms, and quickly became close. She had shortish blonde hair and sharp features, well-defined cheek bones, a sort of Nordic look. She was from Minnesota and spoke earnestly, always, with a semi-Canadian accent that I found delightful to hear. We bonded immediately over books, of all things, because we were both reading the same sorts of things from the 19th century, stuff like The Woman in White and Lady Audley's Secret. She had a great deadpan sense of humor, a tremendous way with understatement. We started eating all our meals together, and then soon we were just doing everything together, catching each other up on what we were like in high school and all we'd done. I was surprised to hear that she had had sex before. She told me all about it, of course, one night when we were alone in the dark in our dorm room, when we stayed up late after getting ice cream at the commons. It was with a boy she had been with for a year, and it happened just after she graduated, after her 18th birthday. His name was Kirk, and she described him as a tall, blond boy who played soccer and had long hair and listened to hippie-jam-band music. Not my kind of guy, frankly, but that didn't matter. Kirk had taken her to see a play in St. Paul and afterward he took her back to his parents' house; they were away for the weekend. "I had kissed and fooled around with him before," Paige told me, "but I just knew this was going to be different. We didn't exactly talk about it. He didn't give me a birthday card with a condom in it or anything, but there were hints. And I felt ready. I was sick of having him drop me off when I was still all turned on, after he had been playing with my breasts and putting his fingers inside me, stuff like that. It felt so good, but he had no idea what he should have been doing, and I always had to, you know, take care of myself when I got to my room." "You would masturbate?" I asked. "Would I? Does the pope shit in the woods?" she replied. "Don't you? If you tell me you don't, I'm not going to believe you." I didn't say anything, but I was actually playing with myself a little bit under the covers. All our talk about sex was making me wet and excited, and I was stroking my public hair softly and quietly, giving my clit a tickle now and then as Paige's voice drifted over to me. "Anyway," Paige continued, "I thought that if we did it, I wouldn't be left with that feeling of being unsatisfied, you know?" "Tell me more about how you guys would fool around," I asked. "It was typical stuff, I guess. We would kiss and then we'd press up against each other, squeezing each other as tight as we could, and then we would be pressing and rubbing against each other, and I would feel how hard I was making him. That would go on for a while, until I was so wet I couldn't stand it anymore. Kirk's sort of shy and I always was the one who had to move things forward. I'd pull away a bit so I could start to unbutton his shirt, and he'd get the idea, and he'd start trying to get his hands under mine. That felt great; it would be such a relief when he would finally get my bra off and start to fondle my breasts. My nipples got hard right away in response to his touch, and he would be so gentle with them, not like other boys I'd been with." "I like it when my nipples get squeezed," I said. It's what I was doing to myself under the covers, underneath my night shirt. My nipples had gotten hard just from the sound of her voice, and imagining Kirk opening her bra to reveal Paige's breasts, which were pretty big, much bigger than mine. She might have been a D cup even. I had this image of her smiling serenely, holding her big heavy breasts up with cupped palms while a boy leaned in to suck the nipples, which were long stubs that cried out to be tweaked. "Doesn't that hurt?" "Not when I'm really turned on," I said. Like I was now. "I like it when the boy's real gentle, when he licks and sucks on my nipples a bit and then pulls away and just sort of blows on them. Usually I don't like them to be touched really, except with a mouth. But you can't have everything you want. I'll use a feather on my breasts sometimes when I'm playing with myself; I used to pluck them from my mom's feather duster. I'd pretend it was a boy's tongue. Or tongues, if I was working on both nipples at the same time. I'd have the most elaborate fantasies about all these guys from my social studies class getting on me at the same time." "Social studies," I said. "That's kinky." "I know, but nothing compared to earth sciences. Anyway Kirk was totally gentle. I really wanted to see his cock. I knew I was going to ultimately take it out of his pants for him, but I rubbed on his bulge for a while, reveling in how wound up this seemed to make him. He was all writhing on the couch, bucking and straining for more contact. He was surprisingly flexible." As I fingered the lips of my pussy, I was trying to imagine Kirk, and that comment made me see a gymnast, one of those vaguely Eastern European guys, in a leotard, with a bulging package there between thick, muscular thighs. I touched my clit, which was budding out and becoming engorged, and thought of Kirk thrusting his bulge out. Paige continued, "I finally wrestled his zipper down, and unfastened his belt and everything, and then just like that, like a jack-in-the-box or something, was his cock, lolling around like a drunken limb. It wasn't long so much as it was fat, more like a manhole cover than a trouser snake. I wouldn't have thought it would look like that, and I just kind of stoked it, amazed by it, trying to decide exactly what I thought about it. Kirk started to moan and say, Yeah, stuff like that. And that was a turn-on. I was wishing he would say more, so I asked him how it felt, and he said, Good, and I said No, tell me what it feels like. "So he says, 'It makes me wish I was harder. It makes me want to stick it in you. It makes me think how good it's gonna feel when you put your lips on it. You're gonna suck it right?' I squealed with approval, and to be honest hearing him talk made me much more wet and ready. I started telling him how I felt, which to be honest made me the hottest of all. I said how fucking wet my pussy was, and how it was aching and yearning for his throbbing cock and of course I was going to suck him, I was going to suck him and then I was going to make him beg for more, and then I was going to make him lick my hole and fuck me with his tongue. You know, dirty talk." "Wow," is all I could manage to say. Her talk was making me really turned on, too, making me want to fuck her with my tongue. I licked my lips and kept strumming my clit, hoping she couldn't hear what I was doing, and hoping she wouldn't stop. "Adele, are you okay?" Paige asked. "What do you mean?" "Never mind," she said. "It's okay." I knew she understood what was happening, and what's more she didn't mind. "I'm right there with you," she said. "So I was talking my talk, getting us both all fired up, and slowly our clothes were coming off. I felt a little weird getting naked in front of him, I felt all pale and shivery. But I could see in his eyes how excited he was. 'I'm a dirty girl, aren't I," I said. I didn't want him to think I was embarrassed. 'You like my body? You want to touch me all over? I want your hands all over me 'cause I love being dirty. I want to be your filthy little whore. Would you like that, huh? Me being your dirty little fuck whore?" "Oh, yeah," I said, uncontrollably, and then I gasped, realizing I said it aloud. But my body was getting out of control now, waves of pleasure were emanating from my clit up through my entire body and everything felt flush and tingly. I was thrusting fingers into my sopping pussy with one hand, while stroking my clit with the other, shinnying a little under the covers so my hard nipples would slide back and forth against the wool blanket I had tucked against my breasts. "He didn't know what to say, I think, he just kept going, yeah, that's right, yeah. He wasn't ever Mr. Articulate or anything, but that was fine. I was pulling on his cock, trying to make it get bigger and bigger, saying, yes, this is going to be inside me, this thing is going to fill me up." The springs on my bed began to creak, but they weren't alone. I realized Paige's bed was creaking a bit too. I looked over at her and there she was with her eyes closed, uncovered, naked to the darkness, her panties down around one ankle, and her palm grooving against her mound of public hair, which I could see glistening with wetness in the moonlight filtering in through the window. I had no idea she was touching herself too. This kicked me into overdrive, just watching her beautiful breasts start trembling with her motions, and watching the expression of concentration on her face. Paige opened her eyes and saw me looking. "It's okay," she said, breathlessly, "It feels good, right? I've got nothing to hide from you. Like I was telling Kirk, I'm a dirty girl, and I love my pussy and I don't care who knows it. I told him to get a condom out, that I wanted to feel him inside me. He was clumsy getting it on, and I waited for him to stick it in me, all hot and ready but nervous too, twisted up inside a little bit in my stomach. I didn't know if it would hurt. "Then he slipped it in, slow and easy like you'd want and it hurt for a second, but then it was warm white light inside my head, and I just closed my eyes and let my body be taken over by his rhythm." Paige sounded as though she were panting a bit, trying to catch her breath to keep talking. I was rubbing my clit and pulling hard on my tit, thinking of Kirk's big fat cock going into that sweet pussy I saw Paige playing with. I saw her getting split open and gasping, legs thrown back behind her head, her big boobs bouncing. "In and out it went, his big cock, and I could it feel it throbbing the whole time and it sent shivers through me. I starting saying, "Yeah, fuck me, Kirk. Fuck me with that big cock, Kirk. Big cock Kirk, big cock Kirk. Big cock Kirk. It was like my mantra all of a sudden and saying it over and over was bringing me closer to bliss, to letting that white light consume me, you know what I mean." My fingers from one hand were working furiously on my clit now, and with my other hand I was stroking the tips of my nipples with the blanket, making them even more erect and hot with friction, a sweet pain that gave me cold shivers. My stomach felt weightless, as if I had just crested a hill. I looked over at Paige and she was fingering herself with all four fingers, sliding them in and out of her pussy while she arched her torso up in the air. "Big cock Kirk, big cock Kirk," she kept muttering as she touched herself, and her big bouncy breasts, the long nipples pointing up to the sky just like mine, and her pussy all wet and sopping like mine, and then she turned to look at me, and we both started to giggle uncontrollably as we touched and caressed and played and then all of a sudden, looking in her eyes and her smile, I started to explode, gasping "I'm coming, my God, Paige, my God!" She sucked in breath real quick and started to gyrate, the bedsprings squeaking, "Me too, Adele, like a fucking freight train. Fucking freight train!" Her hips jerked in the air, and I shut my eyes, lost in bliss. Becoming Sisters Ch. 02 As a math major, I am used to thinking logically, concentrating long and hard on abstract, abstruse concepts, and following long chains of reasoning. But after a while, once I reported for pledge duty at the sorority house, I found it more and more difficult to think clearly. We were always chanting something or doing something repetitive or running ourselves ragged fulfilling the sisters' various whims. And always the petty punishments over trumped-up "offenses" like looking a sister in the eye, or failing to compliment a sister, or for not cleaning something thoroughly or not saluting the Alpha seal with a curtsy. The sisters kept a tally of all our offenses in a night, and at some utterly random time, the five of us would be ushered into a basement room to be spanked. We never saw which of the sisters did the spanking, because she'd always be wearing a veil, or sometimes a creepy Asiatic mask. And we would never see the people who were laughing in the shadows in a little loft up above, where spectators could sit and watch. They seemed to be masked as well, because every time I caught a glimpse of them their features would seem horrifically distorted. While our pledge sisters stood by, we would be called forward one by one and bend over the sister in the veil's knees. The sister would lift up our skirt and sometimes she would even pull down our panties -- that seemed to be at the spanker's discretion. Some sisters like to hit hard, others like to sort of tickle you and make you squirm, some varied hard and soft blows. Sometimes they used a paddle, sometimes a bare hand. It didn't always hurt, but it was always embarrassing, and my face would usually be as red as my behind would be when they were done. I tried not to cry from it, but sometimes a blow would extract an involuntary groan from me. Sometimes when I was being beaten I would start to count how many times my bare bottom was struck and try to place it in a Fibonacci sequence to predict when she would stop hitting me. Or I would deduce what the next prime number would be, or I'd try to relate it to the counts I'd kept for my sisters and how many times they had been hit. I'd try anything to take my mind of the humiliation, which was strangely exciting, which in turn only made me more ashamed. I hated the whimpers and squeals I made, yet when I heard my pledge sisters make them, it made me feel hot and turned on, and I knew they were feeling the same about me, that my being beaten was at some level exciting them, and that thought, too, excited and humiliated me. As I was being beaten, and I couldn't discipline my mind with numbers I would find it drifting into fantasies of one of my sisters, usually Paige or Eva, holding me, nurturing me, tending to my sore bottom with soft caresses. I would dream of them even kissing my bright red cheeks with ruby-red lips and leaving little kiss prints there. I never had thoughts like that ordinarily; I didn't think of girls that way at all, usually. It was absurd, but it made me feel better and help keep me from crying too much. In some ways getting spanked was the easy part. You would be at the center of attention, sure, but you didn't have to do anything. All the work was done for you, and you just needed to deal with the attention, which you eventually begin to enjoy in a strange way. It was the one moment -- apart from those private moments with my pledge sisters -- when I knew I was doing what I was supposed to, when I wasn't on tenterhooks afraid of making mistakes. We were told repeatedly that we should yearn for punishment, because it meant we were being made into better Alphas, that we were being brought closer to the ideal. I'm not sure what the idea was supposed to be, despite all the repetition of the creeds and all the training and all that. I just thought of Pauline, who had come to seem like a god to me, so beautiful and articulate and perfect and graceful. After a few weeks of pledging I felt almost retarded in her presence. I knew that everything I was going through was worth it if I were to become more like her. It was much harder to watch my pledge sisters being punished. It made me want to watch out for them more, and it even had me taking the blame for things I knew they had done. Watching Eva's ass turn all red from a thrashing was hard to bear, because she tended to whimper and cry, which would start my eyes tearing as well. Monica would start bawling sometimes like a little baby, full on sobs, and this made me extremely uncomfortable. But worst was Paige, whose quiet demeanor seemed to bring out the sadism in whoever was doing the punishing. Sometimes I swore I heard male laughter, but it was hard to tell, and I could have easily hallucinated it. All kinds of crazy ideas would be flowing through my addled brain. That was another thing, I was so sensitive to everything during that period. I would break out in tears over nothing at all, at the sight of a dead fly in a lampshade. And I would feel the deepest and warmest gratitude over the slightest sign of friendliness from one of the sisters. Pauline, who was assigned to be my "big sister", part mentor and part governess really, could make me beam with joy just by telling me my hair looked nice. That was because most of the time she was criticizing me mercilessly, comparing me to the other pledges and pointing out how worthless I was compared to them, and how she couldn't believe they tolerated the sight of me. I knew it was a psychological game at first, but it was surprising how soon it began to sink in and how glad I was that my pledge sisters didn't hate me. The first time this happened, Pauline called Eva and I into her bedroom one night after we had finished polishing the silver -- it hadn't been used, it was just make-work -- and sweeping the kitchen. Pauline closed the door behind us and sat on her bed while we stood there side-by-side, waiting to find out what she wanted. "Okay," she said. "You girls aren't so bad looking, even after you've worked up a lather. Show me your tits." Eva and I looked at each other uncomfortably. "Come on," Pauline said flatly, "Pull up your shirts, I want to see your tits. Eva was a fairly conservative girl. She was coy, almost bashful, and she tended to wear loose-fitting clothes that concealed her figure. I don't think she liked being in the spotlight at all; she seemed to assiduously avoid garnering attention. She was from somewhere in Texas, and her parents belonged to one of those megachurches down there and were really active with it. I often heard her talk about how she missed her church, herself, and how she had no recourse to pray alone, which made her feel lonely sometimes. Sometimes she hoped we would pray with her. I wondered if she was praying now, with Pauline glaring down on us, asking us to expose ourselves, to reveal our private flesh. Eva blushed and then lifted the T-shirt she was wearing to show her bra, a yellowed, lacy thing that looked like it had been washed too many times. It seemed like it was too small for her too, since the flesh of her breasts seemed to be busting out. I lifted my shirt too and pulled it over my head and took it off. "That's right, just take the shirts off," Pauline said, "and the bras too. I want to see your tits, not your questionable taste in lingerie, understand?" We did as we were told; Eva slipped her arm through a strap and unhooked her bra and her breasts positively spilled out, jiggling in her hands as she dropped the bra to the floor. I felt a little inadequate with my modest boobs, but most of all I felt embarrassed at having to show myself to Pauline like this in front of Eva. "That's better," Pauline said. Looking at Eva, she said, "Those things are out of control. You're going to be a fat sagging cow if you ever have kids. Or have you already had them? Only way tits get that big is from a little rug rat sucking on them. Or maybe not. Maybe you've been sucking on them. I bet you can. Show me." Eva's blush deepened even further. "Don't just stand there with that stupid look on your face, cunt, do it! Show me and your pledge sister how you suck your big fat titties. I know you do it." Eva stood there, frozen, but her nipples had become noticeably erect as Pauline commanded her. Mine were getting hard too, but maybe because it was a bit chilly in her room. "Are you going to show us, or would you prefer showing all the sisters how you do it before we spank you? Come on, now. Enough stubbornness. I can see how excited this makes you, you little slut, so why don't you just do what you know you're dying to do?" Eva timidly leaned her head down, and with her hand she pushed one of her enormous melons to her mouth. It never would have occurred to me to think of boobs as melons, not really, until I saw hers. I could see her trembling. Eva extended her tongue as far as it would go as she held up her sumptuous breast, but it didn't reach her hardened nipple, so she was forced to strain, stretching her tongue as far as it could go. She lapped awkwardly at her nipple, shivering all the while. "Oh, that's hot," Pauline said ironically, and then there was a flash and the clicking-lens sound of a digital camera. "That will look beautiful on the website." Eva gasped and stopped licking. It looked like a tear was rolling down her face. "Don't stop, slut," Pauline said coolly. I need to get a few more shots of that. We wouldn't want to disappoint the brothers of Theta Phi, would we? Do it!" At this point I was starting to question the whole joining-a-sorority thing. I wished Paige were here for a moment, because her presence would reassure me that I really did want to be here, that I really did want this. But a look at Pauline reminded me too, just seeing how in control she was, how beautiful and cold. Her eyes had something sparkling in them, something keen and intelligent that spoke of mastery and command. Her posture, straight but not stiff, was perfectly elegant. Wherever she was, you could tell she was never ruffled, and I knew that what I was undergoing now was the same thing that had made Pauline the paragon she was. Eva lifted her ample breasts again with her hands and bent her head down and brought her long tongue out again. After a moment I could see the tops of her breasts glistening with saliva, especially when the flash of Pauline's camera went off. Eva was starting to sob a bit, even as she was trying to lick her nipples, which were now little plugs covered with wetness. God her tits were massive, and my were so small in comparison. What would it be like to do that, suck on your own nipples? "Hey, boobless. Don't just stand there," Pauline commanded, looking at me. "Help her out." At first I didn't understand what she meant. Did she want me to push on Eva's head, to give her further reach? "I can see how hot this is making you. I can see you squirming. I can see how hard your nipples are," she continued. "You're looking at those big tits and thinking I want some of that, aren't you. Well, go ahead. Get some." I stood there frozen. I was shaking a bit too. Pauline took a picture of me, and it blinded my eyes for a moment. "What are you, stupid?" Pauline said. "Suck on her tit. Show her how much you care about her. Show her how much you trust her. Suck that big juicy tit until the milk comes squirting out." I wondered if this was turning Pauline on. With her hair pulled back and her tight form-fitting blouse and skirt, she seemed like some kind of drill sergeant issuing her orders, but there was an edge of glee to her voice, something beyond coldness that was maniacal. She was peering at the camera, framing shots of us as I edged closer to Eva, who was blubbering now like a baby in her humiliation. She couldn't even look at me as I moved into position to take her heaving breast into my mouth. I could only see Pauline's stockings, the kind that made her legs look like they were covered with spider webs and her black knee-high boots before I turned to start working on Eva's tit as I was instructed. I didn't know quite what to do, so I did what I thought would feel good to me. I whispered that everything was okay to Eva and then I started to tease her hard nipple with quick darting moves of my tongue. I heard the camera click but to be honest I liked the way Eva tasted, her skin. I liked the smell of her, faintly perfumey, faintly musky like her pussy must be, a good clean smell. I knew the photos were to guarantee our loyalty to the sorority and I trusted they would never really be made public. And I cared for Eva, and I wanted her to stop crying. "It's okay, Eva," I said, and I gave her nipple another quick tease. "I'll make you feel good. That's all that matters. Okay?" I was trying not to let my shame get to me, reach the forefront of my consciousness. I tried not to see myself with Pauline's eyes, no matter what she was saying or how many pictures she took. She continued to sniffle. She had stopped licking herself and now her head lolled back to make it easier for me to kiss and caress her. I found it very exciting to feel the heaviness of her breasts, to make the mound of flesh redistribute itself as I squeezed and probed with my fingers. I puckered my lips on her nipple and began to suck. I didn't think I'd feel anything in particular, but it felt surprisingly sensual, almost overwhelming, to be this close to her physically after how close emotionally I had come to feel with her. But I seemed to feel on my own bare breasts what I was doing to hers, every lick and sick I made on her big boobs I felt in mine, and I could almost feel as if mine were like her big hangers, so big that everyone in a room had to notice them the minute I walked in, so big I had no choice but to follow my own chest around. I was started to get really wet and wished I could go run off somewhere to play with myself. I thought about just going with that feeling, losing myself in the little act Pauline was having us do, thinking it might make me seemed that more committed to the sorority if I could take that sort of initiative. And I was getting horny as hell sucking on Eva's nipples. her crying had slowly changed into moaning as I continued to work on her and reassure her with little whispered compliments about how beautiful she was, and natural it seemed that I should be showing her that this way. All the while Pauline took photos. In fact I had sort of lost track of Pauline at some point, so involved in Eva's breasts I became. I wondered, for her sake, if I could make her come just by playing with her boobs, thinking maybe it would start a chain reaction in me and I would finally get some release for myself as well. It just felt nice, comforting almost, to be with a girl who was in many ways just like me, but was also like a fantasy me, a me who was pneumatic and alluring and soft. I kissed her the way I wanted to be kissed and I pretended that I was her, getting this wonderful attention. Then Pauline stopped taking photos for a minute. I heard her walk away for a moment, and at that point I asked Eva, "Should I stop?" "No," she gasped. "I don't mind. It feels so good, Adele, but I feel so strange. I'm not this kind of girl. I never let a girl do what you're doing to me. It doesn't seem right, but it feels so good. It's not dirty and unnatural like I thought it would be." "It's just something between friends," I said. "That's all. You're so beautiful, Eva. I wish I was a beautiful as you." "No, Adele," she said. "You're so much prettier than me. Your eyes, they're so clear, so bright. I can lose myself in them." And as she looked at me, my fingers massaging her nipples and holding her heavy breasts, I could see what she was talking about. She was dreamy, half smiling and she gazed into my eyes. I wished she would touch me, touch my breasts, let me feel her warmth on my body. Pauline returned and she was holding something in her hand, but I couldn't figure out what it was at first. It looked like a long black banana or something, only it was attached to a thick leather belt. "One of you is going to have to suck on this," Pauline said, holding the black banana up, and then I realized, of course, that it was some kind of strap-on dildo. "Hey, no tits, you already look like a boy, why don't you complete the package," she said to me. Her voice was nearly unrecognizable; she sounded nothing like what she sounded like when she was in big-sister mode giving me advice or helping me with studying. The thing was complicated, and Pauline had to strap it on me. Slightly numbed, and in a kind of dreamy slow motion, I moved my arms and legs, followed her instructions, stepped through loops and fastened belts and so on, all while the air seemed like gauze and Eva, naked from the waist up, stared at the floor, her chest heaving slightly, her nipples, moist with saliva, glistening in the light. Below her neck her skin was flushed, and her cheeks were full of roses as well. Time passed with Pauline handling me, guiding me, and the next thing I knew I looked down and I had a penis. There it was, stiff protruding from between my hips, a black rubber missile about seven inches long that bobbed and bounced with every move I made. It was so strange. At first I was afraid to touch it; it seemed preternatural and so foreign. But I couldn't keep myself from gyrating at the waist to make it quiver and shake. I sort of waddled over toward Eva, and even she smiled a bit, at the crazy sight I must have been, with my top off and my breasts showing and this big cock attached to me. I have to admit, I had wondered at times what it would be like to have a penis, dreamed about it even as I was using my fingers on myself. I tried to imagine what it would feel like as it got hard, as it filled up with blood and came alive after being dormant. This strap-on thingy wasn't quite as sensual as I imagined a cock would be, but it was something; I felt a weird sense of power as I approached Eva, and I still felt it as I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently down to her knees. As I held Eva's shoulders and guided her waiting mouth toward the rubber phallus, I was shocked by how wet and turned on I was. I realized that it didn't even matter at all that the thing was a inanimate object with no nerve endings, not really connected to my body at all. Wearing it still gave me an electric thrill of power, and power, I realized, was what this was all about, and just being able to command that intoxicating thrill, and use the rubber cock as a kind of sexual lightning rod to channel and focus all the erotic charge that had built up between Eva and I made me almost delirious with lust and hunger for her. And then Eva took it into her mouth. "Oh yeah, suck it baby," Pauline said. It expressed perfectly what I felt. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were sealed around the cock in a little oval. Her lips were shiny, with saliva or lip gloss, I couldn't tell, but it looked sexy sliding over that black shaft. Flashes went off, as Pauline kept talking photos. I kept my hands on Eva's shoulders, kept guiding her forward, closer to me. She began to make slurping sounds, which mixed in with gagging, choking sounds. At times I thought her moaning from deep in her throat. As this went on, I could have sworn that cock was my own, that I was feeling it as Eva licked and sucked it. Maybe I just wished it were so with such intensity. It felt so amazing to have her on her knees in front of me. "Suck it, girl," I heard myself saying, or was it Pauline? "That's right. Suck it." I wanted to know suddenly if Eva's pussy was wet, as wet as mine was, whether she could take my seven inches inside her, what that would feel like, what it would feel like to really give it to her. "This is so hot," Pauline said, still photographing us. "You're real lezzie sluts, you two." And I knew she was right. I wanted to stick my black rubber cock in Eva's hole so bad, I had to admit it. Eva was still sucking away, her big breasts heaving when she paused to catch her breath. I took the cock away from her mouth and began jerking it with my hand, and pushing it, trying to make its base rub up against my clit, which by this point was aching to be toyed with. "Take your pants off," I whispered to Eva as I fingered the fake cock. "Please." She looked at me confusedly, still flushed and panting. "I want to fuck you with this," I said more loudly. Becoming Sisters Ch. 02 Pauline added, "Don't you want that? Don't you want to get fucked. Don't you feel hot? Don't think about anything else. Think about how you feel, that's what this is about. Aren't you all wet, wet and sopping at the thought of fucking your sister, and having big sister watch you? It will be to the point where just being alone in the room with a sister will make you feel sexy, make you feel ready. You know what that's like? It's fucking beautiful, that's what." Eva stood up and backed up slowly to where the bed was, facing me and my phallus the entire time. Her lipstick had smeared a bit around her lips and she was a bit dewy with perspiration. Putting her camera aside, Pauline, who looked a little flushed herself, pushed her back and laid her on her back on the bed and then she undid the top button on her pants, unzipped the fly and began to tug them down while I stood there fumbling with the dildo, pushing on it, trying to get some stimulation to my burning, throbbing, aching clit. Pauline had gotten Eva's pants off, and was now pulling her panties down. "Look at that," she said, "you already shave down there. What a pretty little cunt you have." She took her finger and slid it up and over the groove between her lips down there. "Yeah, and it's all wet, too." I watched, thrilled in the strangest way, as Pauline's finger disappeared inside Eva, and Eva closed her eyes and lolled her head back, emitting a slight moan. "Get over her with that cock," Pauline demanded, and I waddled over. I wasn't sure if it was going to be stiff enough to penetrate Eva, not really, but when Pauline guided it to Eva's nether lips and parted them with it, and then I sort of lunged forward, it slid in like a hot knife through butter. I heard Eva gasp, and it was the sexiest thing I ever heard. I made her do that, I thought, with my cock. I thrust it in as far as I could push it, and found that when I did that and then gyrated my hips at the end of the motion, it tickled my engorged clit just enough to send a quiver all through me, up my spine and down to the tips of my nipples and the ends of my toes. It was divine, and so I repeat the motion, stroking deep into Eva's pussy until I could go no further, until I made her lovely breasts heave back up toward her head than a wiggle-wiggle of my hips and drive myself wild and then a jerk backward to do it all over again. All the while Pauline, licking her lips and breathing noticeably heavy, kept her fingers by Eva's mound, teasing out Eva's clit from under its hood and tickling it, cooing to herself and muttering things like "Yeah, fuck it!" and "Sweet little thing, gonna make you come!" She started to play with Eva's big tits too while I was plugging away at her pussy, making the nipples stand up as she twiddled them and squeezed them. I started stroking faster, plunging what seemed like deeper and deeper, and I felt like my hips were gyrating nonstop, the whole time, whether I was slamming in or pulling out, and I seemed like I couldn't control myself anymore. "My God I'm coming," I said, and then I couldn't even tell you what happened next, a chaos of limbs and spasms and sensations. I think Eva was coming too because she seemed to quaking on the bed thanks to me and Pauline. Becoming Sisters Ch. 03 I'm not sure when or why it started to happen, but everything about my life was becoming sexualized, saturated with a palpable feeling of endless desire. I mean, math class is not supposed to be sensual, but there I was, half listening to Dr. Hu drone on at the board solving integral equations, and I all I could think about was, I need. I want. I need. I tried to think about math, but I ended up thinking about sex. About how my orgasms were becoming mathematical, not merely because they were so numerous lately but because there seemed to be some logarithmic equation that could explain them, how they magnified exponentially as the approach infinity, which is what they always approached of course as the blood started to coarse through me and my body began to quiver and every single muscle seemed to be spasming at once in a great magnificent pulse. I could see in my mind a graph of my pleasure level rising steadily, the slope ever increasing until it's shooting straight off the chart, approaching the limit but of course never reaching it because the pleasure seems to mount and mount and never abate, waves of pleasure, sine and cosine, getting stronger and stronger. I pressed down against my black plastic chair that was connected to the desk, which was bolted to the floor. I bounced up and down a little, rocked my hips and flexed my thighs back and forth, trying to feel some friction. It felt like all I was is hungry, and wet, of course, and all that hunger was steaming out of my body through my throbbing pink pussy. I wondered if there were an equation for how many tongue licks on my clit it would take to get me off, if there was a coefficient for how sopping I was, if there was a function of x to determine the diameter of the cock that could fill me when I was so voraciously craving one in me. Dr. Hu was moving on to the next problem; there was chalk dust all over his pants and the sleeves of his jacket. He didn't hardly even turn around to face the class, and I could see that some of my classmates were sleeping. I was surreptitiously hiking the back of my skirt up so I could roll my stocking-clad thighs over the cool plastic of the seat, then I was squeezing and rubbing my thighs together, thrilling to the bristling zip of nylon on nylon. I couldn't believe what was happening to me; it seemed to come out of nowhere. I didn't know becoming a sister in a sorority would be so sexual, would have me so turned on like all the fucking time! I couldn't hardly think. I took off my glasses and cleaned them on my tank-top, and I tried to bear down on the thorny problem Dr. Hu was solving, but the squeaking of the chalk on the board was reminding me of the giggly squeals Eva had made when I was doing her with the strap-on. And just thinking about how that felt kept me excited. When I told Paige about it, later on when we were both in bed in our dorm room, we both got off. She asked so many questions, I could tell she was envious. What did it feel like to use another girl's hole like that? Did I feel manly? Am I officially bi now? How big were Eva's tits really? They couldn't possibly been as big as I described them, even though she was always a threat to explode a few blouse buttons. I knew Paige was touching herself under her covers as we talked, and I wondered if she was thinking about whether I would consider using the strap-on on her -- I would -- or perhaps whether she was wishing she could use it on me. That would be more her style; I couldn't see her as the submissive type, but I could definitely see her brandishing some huge cock like a halberd and impaling me with it over and over. That's what I was thinking anyway as I was touching myself under the covers. Dr. Hu intoned another problem out loud. "The definite integral of the function f on the interval a to b as it is defined by the differential of x equals limit zero to infinity, delta x minus...." I was still squirming in my chair, rubbing and bucking but hoping I wasn't being noticed. Maybe I wanted to be noticed, I don't know. With one hand I was holding a pencil, and my free hand was in my lap, applying pressure to my pussy, which felt engorged and on fire. I wished I wasn't wearing any underwear, so I could just stick a finger up my cunt without any unnecessary hassles. I was riding the edge of my panties that were pushed up against the inner lips; it was just enough to tease me but not enough to send me over. Another 25 minutes of this, I thought, and I'll be ready to bend over my desk, spread my legs apart, thrust my ass out like a dog in heat and grind my aching clit against the edge of the desk. I'll whimper and beg to get fucked. There I was, in a room filled with other students like me, were they thinking about sex too? I wondered if the slim Asian girl in front of me was able to smell how wet my panties are. She probably could. The thought humiliated me, but that only made me that much more wet. I thought of Pauline, of what she would say if she were here, how she would call me a filthy slut and a little whore who was just aching to get fucked all the time. I tugged the crotch of my satin thong up between the lips of my pussy. It went there easily and I knew the slippery evidence will be visible on the black satin when I got the house for pledge duty. I wondered if Pauline would know, and would make me show it to her. I don't know why; I just assumed she would know, she would be able to see it in my face. Pauline. My big sister at the sorority, she started to seem like she could read my mind. And now, ever since the incident with Eva, I have this funny feeling in the pit of stomach whenever I am near her, and it just grows and gets close to overwhelming if I am alone with her. I can't stop thinking about how I want her to touch me, to caress me, to watch me with the strap-on on again and command me to play with her, to take her. I want to know what her pussy tastes like, what it smells like, I want her to grind it against my face until I can't breathe and I'm just smothered with her desire. God, I wanted to come. I don't even know if Pauline would want me. I leaned back in the chair, and the silky smooth satin of my panties shifts back and forth across my ass, and it drove me crazy. I needed more. It felt like my panties were starting to leak. I started to shake, but not enough. I started daydreaming about Pauline watching me as I got fucked, and spontaneously I started imagining the glasses-wearing kid in the desk two rows in front nailing me. I imagined he would be so grateful, so compliant, that Pauline could tell him what to do to me, and he would just do it, no questions asked. And his cock would be sleek, and slice right into me, and I would climb up and down it like a fireman's pole, while Pauline watched me approvingly. In the heat of this insane, overwhelming lust I felt like I've become no one, anyone; I don't even know my name anymore, just this yearning desire seeping from between my legs. My cunt actually hurt, I needed to come so badly. I needed it hard and fast. Hands at the edge of my panties under my skirt, me wondering if I dared. Two fingers went to my pussy lips, circling, before pushing in and slithering back and forth, then up and out, to my mouth, and I tasted myself, smelled my lust on my fingers, which reminded me of the way Eva smelled when I had her. I wondered, When will I stop feeling like a hole that needs to be fucked and start feeling like a person again? I thought again of Pauline. She was imperially slim, her hair always smooth along her crested forehead. Her lipstick never bled, her skirts always pressed perfectly. Everything was neatly aligned about her; everything matched. Her gloves matched her dress, her belt, her crocodile handbag dangling from the crook of her elbow. Her stockings never had runs, her kitten heels were always unscuffed. Her coiled hips in their sheath of slip, chiffon, immaculate. But me, I am a girl tumbling down the stairs, slamming drawers closed, cowlicks sticking obstinately up. I am rumpled beyond repair. I spill coffee on myself and snag the scarf around my neck on a tree branch. I am awkward and giraffelike, whereas she is a gazelle, gallant. The Asian girl in front of me had the most delicate little hands. I watched them as she moved her pencil across her notebook, thinking about how much I wanted to suck those lithe little fingers, have them in my cunt, have them touching, teasing and tickling me. I imagined sucking on her thumb, making it glisten with saliva, and then guiding it to my waiting asshole. I don't know where the thought came from; it was so unlike me to think about things like that. But for a moment I was almost overwhelmed with a desire to eat that Asian girl's cute little box. I had noticed her before; stick thin but a nice little bump of a behind, tight and curvy and dying to be grabbed. When class ended I had to rush back to my dorm to touch myself. I was a little disappointed when I got there to see that Paige was home, but I was so flustered and hot and turned on, I didn't know what to do. "Paige," I confessed, "Can I tell you something? I was sitting in math class and I couldn't stop thinking about it." She was drinking a glass of milk from a glass and she had a cute little milk mustache. "Thinking about what," she said, licking her lip. "What do you think?" I said. "It. Sex." "That's not very mathlike," she said. "I thought it was all parabolas and graphs and junk like that. Don't tell me that stuff turns you on." "It does," I said, "But not usually in this way. I was thinking about how I wanted to do like just about everybody in the class, and I don't know if you know this, but math classes are generally full of dorks." "You mean like you?" She took another sip of milk. "Like this girl sitting in front of me. A girl!" I said. "I never had thoughts like this before. I think this pledging thing with the sorority is doing something weird to us." "You think it's making you into a dyke?" "I don't know," I said. "I still like boys. But it's like I don't even distinguish anymore. I just think about how much I like it." Paige grinned at me. "Oh, I know how much you like it." She was referring to our mutual masturbation sessions, which were becoming a nightly routine. "I think I need to get off now," I said, "and I mean right now. I don't know if you want to leave the room or something, but I gotta get these panties off." "What do you mean leave?" Paige said. She took a gulp of milk and then continued. "You think you are the only one? Hearing about how you are turned on gets me going. I want to hear more about it. I don't care if you take your panties off. I don't care if you take all your clothes off. I've seen you naked. I know your body." I didn't hestitate to think about the implications of what Paige was saying. I just reached under my skirt and stepped out of my panties. I didn't even take off my shoes. I cleared off the dirty clothes from my bed and lay myself down and ran my hands right up my thighs over the tops of my stockings and dove some fingers into my sopping wet pussy. "You weren't joking," Paige said with a gasp. "You almost made me spill my milk." "Is that some kind of metaphor," I said, stroking my clit which was now poking out from under its hood. "I think I better lock the door," she said, and she went and turned the deadbolt on our dorm-room door. "Tell me more about the girl who got you fired up," she said, after sitting across from me on her bed, watching me intently. I closed my eyes, hyperaware of the sounds my sloshing cunt was making as I fingered my hole. "I don't know," I said, trying to keep my breathing under control. I felt like I could start panting at any minute and that would be sort of embarrassing. "It was her hands. They seemed so delicate, so perfect, just holding her little pencil, stroking it and rolling it in her fingers. I kept thinking I want to feel them touch me, I kept thinking, I want to lick those long slender fingers." "Like this?" Paige said, and I opened my eyes and saw her licking her own fingers, sucking the index finger with her mouth in a dainty puckered O. "Let me give it some flavor," she said, and she put her own hand up her skirt for a moment and then removed it, glistening. She started licking again, up and down the length of her middle finger, with her ruby tongue extended to wrap around it. "That what you were thinking of doing?" I wasn't sure if she was teasing me. Paige closed the vertical blinds so that the room was dark, but suffused in a halo glow from the bright sun we were keeping out. "So tell me more about the Asian girl's hands," Paige said, settling in on her bed. It was before noon, and she was still wearing what she slept in, an oversize T-shirt -- this one was for a JV swim team -- and her panties. "I don't know," I said. I didn't know where to begin; it was such a strange wash of sensual feeling that had overcome me in the math class. "Her hands just looked so soft, so delicate, so smooth. To touch those fingertips would be like touching the petals of a flower." "I think you are touching the petals of a flower now," Paige said slyly. My hands were still working under my skirt; I was stroking my pubic hair and tweaking the outer lips "Don't embarrass me, Paige," I said. "No, it's beautiful," she replied. "Keep talking and I might join you." "It wasn't so much I wanted to touch her, but I thought about her touching me. All over. And I thought of her long, straight black hair, you know that hair that seems fine as silk? I thought of her head on a pillow, and that hair splayed out all above her, and then I thought of it sweeping over me, over my face, ticking my cheeks, teasing my breasts and my nipples. They were hard as I was sitting in the classroom, and I was afraid everyone could see, that everyone knew I was getting all wet." "You're making me wet now," Paige said. My eyes were closed now, going back to the math class, but I heard the snap of elastic as Paige must have been taking her underwear off. "But you know the smell of the lilacs outside blowing in with a breeze can get me wet anymore." "That's what I mean," I said. "Overstimulated. Or oversensitive or something. I was sitting there and it was like I could really feel that silken hair coursing all over my body, as if I were naked right there. It was so vivid. I've never heard this girl talk -- the class is all lecture -- but I could still hear her voice in my mind, clear as a bell. My imagination just supplied it. Such a sweet voice, telling me how pretty I was, what a perfect body I had, how exquisite my skin was, how fresh I smelled. It was all the things I was thinking about her." "What does she look like?" Paige asked. I heard one of the springs of her bed squeak as she adjusted herself. "Really thin, like she'd blow away like a sheet of a paper in a gust of wind. Black, black hair, like coal. A tiny mouth and a button nose and small almond-shaped eyes. Skin ssort of light tan, like a latte with too much milk in it, but creamy like that too. She doesn't wear much makeup, except her lips are always shiny and wet." "Yeah, I like that," Paige said. "I'm picturing her meek and graceful, someone that guys wouldn't notice right away." "She has sort of a stealth beauty," I said, and let out a sigh as I started to dance my fingertips on the hood of my clit. "The crazy thing was, even as I was imagining her, I was also hearing Dr. Hu's voice in my head at the same time. At first, he was solving equations like he was really doing at the blackboard, but then slowly it changed, and he was issuing commands to the girl in his stuttering broken English. 'Roll her stocking down.' 'Make her pant like dog.' 'Open your blouse.' 'Stick nose in her pussy.' Then back to math, 'limits' and 'variables' and 'f(x)'." "I think math just turns you on, Adele," Paige said. She was sitting up in her bed, her back against the wall of painted concrete block that made up all of our dorm rooms. I was laying on my back with my head on my pillow, my skirt rolled up so that I was naked and exposed from my waist down to the tops of my stockings. I had my hands over my pussy, of course. They were busy. "I can't believe you go to math class dressed that way," Paige continued. "Thigh-high stockings? It's like you are ready for your shift at the Crazy Horse, not calculus." "Pauline's been encouraging me to dress in ways I think are sexy," I said. "She got me the stockings." "From the private collection," Paige laughed. "She gave me a push-up bra to start wearing. It makes me feel a little dirty when I wear it, but I tell you, the guys certainly notice me more. I feel like my tits enter a room about five minutes before I do." "Well, I think the stockings are sexy," I said, and I reached down and ran my hands over my thighs and then put my legs in the air over my head and caressed my calves. "I love the cool feel of the air rushing through the weave of the fabric. It feels like electricity. It gives me goose bumps." "You look hot," Paige told me. "You have the legs for it, long and sleek." "Thanks." I continued to massage them and stroke them, holding them out above me, slim, shiny and black, encased in the nylon. They hardly seemed like part of me at all, yet they made it feel so lovely to be touching myself. I was turned on by what I saw, by what my hands felt, and what my legs felt. And then there was the idea of other people looking at me. Paige, for instance. I couldn't help but feel I was performing a little bit for her. She had made me comfortable with myself, drawn me out. Paige still had her big T-shirt on, but she had pulled her arms inside the sleeves, and was playing with her breasts underneath it. She liked to squeeze her nipples once they were hard, first one then the other, alternating them in a rhythm that would speed up as she got herself more turned on. She called it her pinching game. Suddenly it seemed like a good idea to try it myself, so I put my legs down and took my shirt off, starting stroking and massaging the tips of my breasts, trying to get my own nipples hard. "What else has Pauline told you to do?" Paige asked. "She wants me to dye my hair, make it more blonde. I think she wants it so that I could look any one of you and think for a second I was looking at myself." "Or you look in a mirror and think you're seeing one of our pledge sisters," I said. "Out of our pledge sisters, which one do you think is the sexiest?" Paige asked. "That is, besides me." "I can't answer that," I said. "All the sisters are beautiful, it's one of the first principles." "Oh, come on," Paige said. "You can drop that stuff with me, I'm not Pauline. I think Monica is the prettiest. Her face, it's so symmetrical, and her skin looks so clear and soft. You wouldn't think it's weird if I said I had a crush on her, would you? I think about her when she's not around. I'll just be sitting in class or something, and I'll see Monica's face, her smile, her teeth -- you know they're so straight and so fucking white. They're gleaming." This was really what was on Paige's mind, I guess. This is what she wanted to talk about while she played with herself, I could see, as her hands were working at the pinching game more hurriedly now. "And I'll think about her body, her skin, like porcelain, that time when we had to get naked in front of the other sisters and point to our least favorite parts of ourselves. I remember looking at her and thinking how she couldn't play this particular little humiliation game, because she was so damn perfect." I tried to see what Paige was doing to herself, so I could keep up with her. "Take your shirt off, would you?" I asked, before I even knew what I was saying. "What?" Paige asked. Becoming Sisters Ch. 03 "I just want to see you. It's turning me on how Monica turns you on." Paige consented and lifted off her oversize shirt. Now she was completely naked on her little dorm bed, on top of her sheets, in front of the poster of Manet's Dejeuner sur L'Herbe that she had hanging on her wall. Her nipples looked purplish, swollen, her breasts full, heavier than usual, and she was flush right up through her chest to her cheeks, and I could see her heaving a bit, panting almost as she kept playing with her breasts, pinching. I tried to mirror what she was doing, first the left nipple, then the right; it felt nice, but what was getting me closer to coming was the thought that I was feeling what Paige was feeling, exactly. I wished she would put stockings on, so that we would match in appearance, but I figured that would be too strange a thing to ask. "Anyway when it was her turn, you remember, Monica pointed to her pussy, and the sisters made her open her legs and show it to everyone. And I don't know what she was ashamed of, because it was beautiful. It was like I'd never really seen one like that before, with the inner lips protruding out." Paige had her hands at her own cunt now and I followed suit, trying to watch how she positioned her fingers. It felt good to touch myself there, it felt like it was itching, itching with the desire to be touched. I was getting jumpy in my skin, wanting to come so bad. Of course it never happened like the way she was describing with Monica. She didn't point to her cunt, she pointed to a mole she had above her hip, which she said sometimes sprouted hairs. But Monica did train as a gymnast when she was younger, and when she was naked that time she showed us all how she could lift a leg above her head while standing straight. "I keep thinking of her pretty pussy, and the way she had her pubic hair shaved, you know in that dainty little triangle, and it's weird, I keep thinking this fantasy where I am there with her, helping her groom down there, you know, and she's really complacent, with that meek way of hers, and she's letting me do whatever I want to her there, first with the razor, and then as her hair disappears, with my fingers, and then with my tongue even." "Shaving cream probably tastes nasty," I said. "In the fantasy I always shave her clean, totally bald, nothing left at all to cover those pretty lips, and I reassure her how beautiful she is, and she moans and sighs with relief and pleasure, and not just because I start eating her out." "What an expression to use," I said. She was working her clit with two stiff fingers, going in a rapid circular motion, and I started doing the same, and God, it was getting me close. "But it feels so good, God." Her fingers were going faster, I wasn't sure I could keep up. "I don't think I'm doing the fantasy too much justice, there's no way you can be as turned on as I am right now, thinking about it." "I don't know, Paige," I gasped. "I'm getting pretty close." Paige hopped off her bed, breathing audibly, heavily, and she came toward me. "I think it would be easier for me to show you instead of describe it," she said. "Would that be okay?" I wasn't sure what she meant, but she touched me on the knee and ran a hand over the nylon and up to my thigh and it felt delicious; it was so warm, and then I wanted to feel her all over, her warmth. I stopped playing with my clit even though I was so close because now I knew I could get much higher. I reached out and put my arms on Paige's shoulders and pulled her closer to me and then lay back. "Yes, after I got Monica's pussy all clean and fresh, I would tease it a little with my fingers," Paige said, and her hands made it over my thighs. She kept massaging my thighs, working up and back from my yearning, sopping cunt. "She would be as wet as you are, which I have to say is pretty fucking wet. And I watch her face, watch to see if I could make her smile or make her moan or make her lick her lips. I just want to see how I was making her feel, you know." Our eyes were locked; hers wide and almost glowing with passion, a little smirk on her face like she always has when something's got her excited. It felt so good, the way she was touching me now. She was beside me on the bed, my head was on the pillow and she was sitting up. I was trying to get my own hands between her legs to do to her what she was doing to me, but I was so lost in the waves of pleasure she was giving me, so immersed in what I was feeling, that I didn't try too hard, and I started to play with my own nipples instead. "That's right," Paige continued. "And I would take my hand and give her a taste of herself, which is so good." And she slipped one of her fingers into my mouth then, and instinctually I started to lick it, suck on it, scraping my tongue on her fingernail. Was that me, was that what I was? Yummy, tasty. Her other hand continued to massage my clit, keeping me revved, and it felt like the bed was adrift in an ocean, and I was bobbing and heaving on swells of pleasure. She pulled her finger from my mouth, with a pop from all my sucking. "After I gave her a taste, I'd go and get one for myself." Then Paige slithered to the far end of the bed, and began climbing back up between my legs, sliding slowly so I could feel her weight against my thighs, could feel the slick friction through the nylon of my stockings, her breasts dragging along. She purposely swung her body over me so I could feel it, and I watched every delicious minute of it. Then I spread my legs to make easier for her, and then wrapped one around her, the stockinged heel of my foot settling into the small of her back. And then she started to eat me, and it was the best thing ever. I never felt anything like it, the moistness, the gushing feeling of joy as I felt her tongue working its way in me and all around my clit. I could hardly breathe and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I was lost in myself as she ate me, it felt like she was inside me. I couldn't control myself any longer and as I grab her hair and sank my fingers through the tangled mass I started moaning, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming," and God knows I was.