3 comments/ 102662 views/ 10 favorites Zita's New Apartment Ch. 02 By: 11pm A minute later, I was slipping back into the apartment, as quietly as I could. I heard rock music coming from the back hallway, and I gained new hope that Kell hadn't heard my performance downstairs. I went and retrieved my application from where I had left it on the table - being sure to force a nonchalant demeanour as I came into view of the window, striding confidently, head up, shoulders back - and clutched it to my chest. I had decided not to submit it. True, I had just had the most enjoyable sex of my life, but it was clear to me that this whole scene was too strange for me. I wanted a return to normalcy. At the very least to think about things. Unfortunately, Kell had my clothes. Holy fucking shit, how had I gotten myself into such a mess? What had just happened to my life? Was I a lesbian? It didn't seem right to say it, or to think it, but was I not evidently bisexual now, at least? Had I always been? I hadn't thought so. Sure girls were pretty, but every girl sees when other girls are pretty, don't they? Like I said before, I never really felt a sexual appetite for a woman, before Kell. Well, okay, maybe there was that woman on the beach, the one I recalled for Kell. I did entertain a naughty thought or two about her, but come on, that's normal from time to time. And she was such a tease too: you should have seen the baited winks she gave me. But mainly she was all tits; that was her appeal. Why just that once? Was I feeling particularly carefree on that vacation, away from home, from anyone I knew? Did I let my guard down? While I was thinking all this, I was standing naked in full view of the window, which I decided was a bad idea. I didn't see anyone in the street, but I was no longer so keen on taking chances. So I went down the back hallway to search for Kell and my clothes. I knew which room was hers from the music. Her door was slightly ajar. I pushed it a bit and peered in, knocking softly. She had thrown on a short black skirt and a dark silk blouse, open in the front but for where the flanks were knotted together just below her breasts. She was lying on her back on her bed with a textbook hoisted over her face and her knees pointing up at the ceiling. The skirt had ridden up a good portion of its already abbreviated length. More revealing was the bold presentation of her cleavage provided simply by virtue of her orientation on the bed, with her head more or less towards me. I could even see the edge of her left nipple emerging from the loose, insubstantial silk as it tried to slough off her body onto the sheets. I had thought my mind had returned to relative sanity after the release of orgasm, but I was finding myself succumbing again, even as she lay there nearly motionless. What I mean is that I found myself thinking: Gawd, is she hot! And my mind seemed to have been softened up for such thoughts, because it took root immediately upon looking at her and seemed to bloom with little resistance. What a sight, that nipple! How had I never appreciated such things before? But no, this wasn't me; I wasn't myself. I was not a lesbian, and I didn't want to be. It occurred to me that in my experience with the woman on the stairs, I hadn't actually DONE anything. I may have been the benefactor of that sexual act, but I was no participant. Yes. Yes, and it was best to keep it that way. I really had no desire to be gay, and I was becoming increasingly afraid of toying around with acting gay. I had always been satisfied with penises, and I certainly wasn't looking to change that. "Oh, Zita, I didn't hear you there." Kell laid the book on the bed and rolled over onto her stomach, her elbows. Her boobs hung down low onto the mattress, with an airy gap between them. I could see almost everything about them but not the nipples, anymore. "Kell," I squeezed out, "I've decided that the room...probably...isn't...for me." I'm not sure what reaction I expected, but I was shocked at the face she made. It was cross in a way that made me feel petulant, bored in a way that made me feel stupid, provocative in a way that made me feel impotent. "Zita." I don't know what she meant by that; she had just stated my name, totally flat. "Did you fill it out?" "Yes." "Just give it to me." "But I don-." "Shut up." It was a curt, harsh, contemptuous instruction, and I complied essentially involuntarily, simply from the shock. "Don't talk. Talking will be nice when you can manage something intelligent to say, but we're choosing you because you're absurdly beautiful, and all you really need to do right now is to continue looking good. Which I'm glad to see you are certainly doing." As she had so many times by then, Kell looked my naked body over. "You have a perfect figure, Zita; you're the ideal itself. And beyond pretty, too." She shook her head at the wonder of me. "Amazing. So stop talking, continue looking absolutely superlative, and give me the fucking application. Don't think, you dumb bitch, just do it!" I have issues. My first issue: why did I actually like being denigrated by Kell as a 'dumb bitch'? What the fuck? My second issue: why was my overall impression after that sermon that Kell liked me? Why was I a little bit proud after it? Because I had ideal tits? Gawd. My third issue: what happened to my will? When Kell slid off the bed and came up to me and took the application, and then guided me with her other hand to bend over the foot of the bed, and then slapped me repeatedly and smartly on my ass, why didn't I put a stop to it? Of course, eventually it became too late. They were hurting more than ever, but with each slap, a queer jubilation was growing. I began sighing, and then moaning. When Kell heard me, she stopped. "Ahh, I see you like that, you shameless pussy," she said. Then without warning, she darted a finger between my legs, in and out of my cunt, just once. I thought I had imploded. "Look at this juice," she said. "You're overripe! You must be dying for Fedora to come home and fuck you." "No," I whispered. She grabbed my hair hard, close to the scalp. "Did I say you could talk yet?" I shook my head what little I could. She leaned overtop of me and kissed me gently just before my ear. "Good girl." Then she turned my head forcibly by the hair and made me kiss her full on the lips. My mouth was already open before she even tried to put her tongue in. I was obviously desperate for her. She was the hottest thing since hell, to my eyes. And she was fully aware that I thought so. So she pulled back on my hair and held our lips but a few centimetres apart. Close enough that we were breathing into each other's mouths but far enough that we couldn't touch. "My oh my," she said facetiously, "you really want to fuck me, don't you?" I felt the words puffing against my lips. The sides of our noses alighted briefly, slid off each other. Still she held me off. I didn't dare speak, but I was telling her with my eyes. "You can say it if you want." "Yes," I breathed. "Whatever happened to you not being a lesbian?" "Fuck that." "Oh?" She was amused. "Yeah." "You want to taste pussy?" "Yeah." "You want to slide that pretty mouth all around some girl's genitals? You want to feel the inside of her with your tongue?" She said it like it was unappetizing, but it sounded absolutely delicious to me. "Yes! Gawd yes!" She yanked my head back and released me. But by the time I had gotten back to where her lips had been, she was standing up, looking down at me. Never breaking eye contact, she stretched the silk from her right breast and lodged it underneath. The sex-goddess' tit, right there. "Try me out," she suggested, "if you want to be a dyke. I don't mind." Needless to say, I thrust myself off the bed and sealed my lips around her nipple like a suction cup. Oh, it was heavenly. She was so beautiful, so smooth, so soft. I loved the vaguely salty taste of her skin, her gentle odour. Her nipple sprang out like a pebble in my mouth. It and my tongue had great fun together. I put my hand under her breast and lifted it where it drooped, felt the weight of it in my palm. I don't know what I had been thinking when I said she wasn't beautiful. She was nothing else. She was my new definition of beauty. I lapped and kissed my way around her cone. I buried my nose in her armpit, to saturate my nostrils with her sweatiest scent. And through it all was the intoxicating knowledge that I wasn't supposed to like this, that it was sinful and embarrassing, and that I was throwing myself into it anyway. "You're a better bitch than I thought," chuckled Kell. But she pushed me back so that I stumbled into sitting again on the bed. "Maybe I'll have you do a little bit more than cook my meals." She dislodged her blouse and let it cover her breast again. "For now, have a look in my closet and pick out the sexiest thing you can find. Fedora's a bit late, and I expect she'll be hungry, so we're going to go out for dinner as soon as she gets home. Your own clothes are in there, by the way, if you want to throw them on and run away from here as fast as you can." She eyed me in her most alluring way, which was, to say the least, well beyond the capabilities of the average woman. "But are you really going to run away from me, Zita?" I shook my head. Then suddenly she was all business, and was heading out of the room. I took a look in the closet. There were a lot of sexy outfits in there, in every category from lingerie to sweaters to sarongs. And indeed, my own clothes were neatly folded together on the shelf. I suspended my hand over them, but would not touch them, it turned out. I was already absorbing the idea of wearing Kell's clothes, her bras, her panties. As perhaps you can imagine by now, I was terrified but I wanted to. So I surveyed all her lingerie and selected the most revealing, most delicate - practically gossamer - panties, which were pink, and then I chose a matching bra. Unfortunately, there was no way the bra was going to fit comfortably, so I had to give up on that. I knew I cut rather a better figure without it anyway. Instead, I considered a pink satin slip with a very, very low neckline, but when I got in on, I saw that it was a bit too long on my rather short frame to wear under any of Kell's skirts. It was nearly a dress in itself but that the neckline plunged all the way to the bottom of my breasts, and the material, the straps, and the trim were all too thin, too delicate, and too snug around my rounder parts to be worn outside the bedroom. In particular, my nipples were determined not to be upstaged. While I stood there in this slip, I heard the front door open and Kell came back into the room. "Perfect," she cooed, enormously and disturbingly pleased. Let's go say hi to Fedora." "No, but I'm not done." "Yes you are. You look incredible." "But for going out -." "It would hardly be fun for me to take you out in a habit, Zita. Tonight I'll be showing you off." She gripped my neck with her palm. "We both know you like it anyway." "Hello!" we heard Fedora call from the front room. Kell smiled and gestured for me to go and greet her. With Kell's palm still on my neck, I preceded her out into the hallway. I can't pretend she was actually physically forcing me; her grip was firm but really quite gentle. So I went out to greet Fedora of my own accord. "Hi," I chirped, a bit ridiculously. Fed looked turned out of the hall closet and almost fainted, I suppose. It was very clear even in that one moment that she was nothing like Kell. She actually seemed embarrassed, and then so did I. "Uh - hello again," she said, and she reached out to shake my hand. I obliged, and hell, but there was something exhilarating in that politest of touches, no doubt owing to my being overtly bedroom clad, and to her being an outed lesbian. The ginger contact of her fingers did not fail to make an impression on me - nor did my outfit fail to impress her. I was watching for it and I saw when she stole her glances at my cleavage - or perhaps those glances were at my nipples. Probably both. They didn't make the latter any less hard, that's for sure. "Have you moved in already?" she asked. "No, not yet," Kell interjected, stepping up beside me. "But I asked her to pick something from my closet so we can all go out to dinner, to celebrate her accepting our offer. How about sushi?" Fedora seemed to be studying Kell carefully. "Well, I love sushi," she said. Then she turned to me, with an entirely different, delicate manner. "Will you be ready in ten minutes?" "Well, actually, I'm ready now." It seemed like she was trying to conceal it, but I definitely saw Fedora's surprise, and I definitely saw her glance once again at my attire, as I suppose she was compelled to do. Her mouth was slightly open, but she wasn't much trying to get any words out. Her warm, dark brown pupils found their way to my "enormous" blue ones, and then suddenly we were "sharing a moment". It went on just a tiny bit, but I became frightfully aware very quickly that we were, in fact, fucking with our eyes. It was just like George had described. Don't ask me what made us do it, or what made us know it, but we were doing it, and I had no doubt that we both understood. I broke it off, in shock, with a docile look to the carpet. I think Fed did likewise after. "Uh, okay, great," she stammered. "In that case, I guess I better change into something sexier." She said it shyly, as it was clearly a compliment. "I'll be quick." She smiled bashfully and went between us, back to her room. Kell gave me an insinuating look, and was loving it. She sidled up to me and took up the satin of my slip between her fingers. "I have some pink pumps that will go great with this." Then she put her left foot alongside my right. They were very close. "You'll manage." When Fedora came out, at much impatient prompting from Kell, I was surprised. She had let loose her hair and put on some choice makeup, and she was really very beautiful. She also had a genuine, inclusive smile that gave her a kind of attractiveness completely unattainable by Kell. My first thought on her clothing was that she'd gone conservative about her breasts, but then she repositioned her little scarf and I thought again. She was wearing a dark blue blouse with a wide collar, unbuttoned enough to leave no doubt about her assets: Fedora had big, round melons, and imperial cleavage. Below, she had chosen a short - but not shamefully short - skirt that held her rather tightly. At thirty-four (as I would learn), she was still a slender, though fortuitously voluptuous, woman. I didn't dare meet her eyes for long after I took all this in and stumbled on her modest smile. But I was smiling too, while I insisted on looking away, and I suppose she must have liked that. Kell didn't miss her opportunity to prompt me. "Oooh," she sang, "doesn't she look gorgeous, Zita?" "Certainly," I agreed, and even though I had tried to sound judicious, this inevitably led to Fed and I sharing another moment. Maybe it was her innocent smile, but I dared to let it go a little longer this time, and she was willing. I felt a nervous fluttering-up in between my lungs and that's when I stopped. Kell would be driving us in her tiny car, and she preceded us out of the house. Fedora came abreast - great word for it here - as I passed through the main door, to hold it open for me. Her chin was kind of over my shoulder as she said, "you look gorgeous," in the most tenuous, unaffected way. I realized she didn't know I knew she was a lesbian, and she was flattering me safely within the bounds of common girl-girl chatter. "Thanks," I said, meaning it, and I turned my head to her and found our cheeks very close. She had put on perfume, as had I. I rather liked her smell. I was also aware of the proximity of her body, because I could feel the subtle interaction of her blouse and my slip. I see now that I was a hopelessly confused and naughty girl, because rather than hurrying on through the door, I slowed my pace as I turned to her, just enough that she inadvertently advanced a little closer. The manoeuvre was successful: I felt her bosom press softly against my arm, my shoulder blade. Of course, I acted as if nothing had happened, thereby passing the whole thing of as accidental, and even inconsequential. But I was fairly sure when I saw her face that it was not inconsequential for her. Anyway, I needed something else to say to excuse my slowing down, so I said: "I like your blouse." I looked down at it then (as was only natural), whereupon I discovered that, with our being so close, I was looking straight down the neck of it, straight into that bosom that was still nestled against my arm. Fed had made and would make no motion to pull it away; she seemed content to have it there as long as I permitted, which was quite excusable since it had been my fault and I didn't seem concerned about it. I knew right away that I had accidentally turned my dubious flirtation into something so brazen and so suggestive as to be a pass, but I had no idea what to do about it. I hadn't meant to be so forward - I wasn't really ready for it. I didn't give Fed a chance to respond. I just pulled away from her and continued to the car. I heard her locking the door behind me hurriedly, and then the click-click of her heels as she trotted after us - or rather, me. I kind of wanted to flee, but she was so sweet and thoroughly kind, I had to slow and turn a bit as she caught up. We were always smiling at each other, whether it was just the mildest hint of camaraderie or a shy but unguarded invitation. "So you're a student?" she began as we walked to the curb. "Yes. It's my second year." "Music?" "What? No. Why music?" "I don't know, there just seem to be a lot of beautiful girls in music." I could see that she was pushing herself against her natural insecurity with these flattering comments. They were effective, though, I have to admit, and I guess all the more for the resistance they were evidently overcoming. I thought back to Leigh, my swim buddy, the shy girl who was always greatly admiring of my body and who had hung around me enough that I forgot she wasn't my friend and realized I liked her. I always pretended to be tired of her compliments, but I never was. I told her she was cute once, and I suspect she went home and masturbated to the idea of me - probably for the umpteenth time - that night. She was like 4'9" and had no tits at all, but she certainly was cute. I suppose I liked her rather a lot, really. I missed her. "Uh, well thanks again," I stammered to Fedora. "But I'm not in music. You're right though. I've noticed a lot of pretty girls take music, for some reason." "Oh?" She was fishing. "Yeah. I wonder why." I was definitely not going to give her any more than that. We were on the sidewalk now, making our way along to Kell's car. "Well, what ARE you taking?" "Actually, biology." I shrugged at her. She had told me she was a biologist when we met earlier that day. "Good choice!" She laughed. "And you know, we beautiful girls aren't so rare in biology either." "Heavens no, you aren't. I could be your T.A., you know. Actually, I could be your instructor if you took BIO346 next year." "I just might. That could be fun." "Well, you haven't seen me teach." "No, but at least you're nice. And not too bad to look at," I added jokingly. I figured she'd earned that much from me, anyway. Kell was at the car now, standing in the street with the driver's door open. I was expecting that Fedora would take shotgun, but she laid her hand on my forearm and said she'd go around to the other side. There was no reason for her to go around to the other side unless we were both going to sit in back, which seemed conspicuous and strange to me. But she went around and was watching me, smiling of course, and I would have felt terrible sitting up front, though I almost did nonetheless. Almost. As I slipped into the back seat beside Fed, I saw that both she and Kell were highly pleased, though in markedly different ways. Zita's New Apartment Ch. 02 "Do you like sushi?" Fed asked softly while Kell got us going. "Yeah, I think. I never had it, actually." "Oh, well, you're going to love it. You like seafood, right?" "I love seafood. Mmmm, mussels. Shrimp..." "Well, you'll like sushi, I'm sure. Just don't take too much wasabe." Kell, in the front, seemed to be ignoring our conversation, which was perhaps too quiet for her to hear properly given how noisy the car was. She put on the radio. "Maybe you can order something for me," I said to Fed. "Sure!" she replied. "I'd love to." The back seats were rather cramped, and Fedora had her knees veering towards the centre of the car - towards me - to avoid the back of Kell's seat. She had had them nicely waxed, and they looked good. Rather muscular, actually, in the calves in particular, suggesting some kind of athletics. My own legs were taught and shapely, but rather more stately in their perfection. "So you're in second year?" "Yeah, just." "How old are you, then?" "Nineteen." "Oh my god." "What?" "No, nothing. It's just, you're so...wow, you're so young." "How old are you?" "I don't want to tell you now; I'll sound ancient!" "Come on; it's not like you could be my mom or anything. You're a postdoc, right? So you must be, like, thirty or so. No?" "Thirty-four." "Yeah, well that's not so old." She didn't buy it. "Nice try. I remember being nineteen; thirty-four was a whole lifetime away. I've got laugh lines, Zita." "Well, you look fantastic." She shrugged humbly. "Thanks. I try to keep in shape, at least." "I don't think that can take the credit for everything." I gave a nod to her large and shapely chest. It was still typical friendly banter among women. "You know, Zita, technically I COULD be your mother." "Really?" Was that so? "Yeah, I guess. But that would be fairly extreme, wouldn't it? You certainly don't look like my mother." "I hope that's a compliment - I imagine your mother must be rather beautiful." "Not so much; she looks too old for her years, I think. You, you're a total babe." For thirty-four! I was supposed to say "for thirty-four". It just seemed like too cruel a qualification to add, at the last moment, as it was about to come off my tongue. But without it, what I just said - with a lot of enthusiasm, you should know, to offset the age qualification I'd been intending to add - sounded more flattering than was wise. I mean, she WAS kind of a babe, and stunning at thirty-four, but I didn't mean to say it like that! What was I doing, still playing at this shit? I would hurt her feelings, in the end. Or I would get myself into another situation that I didn't want to get into, and with a woman I could really have been friends with. Jeez, how was she taking it? I was looking through the windshield now. "Wow, thanks," came her touched reply, finally. "It's a surprise to hear something like that from a young girl like you. You know, with a sexy, nineteen-year-old figure." She was hoping now, full steam - I could hear it in her voice, under her forced-casual, sisterly tone. I didn't know what to say, and couldn't find anything. I just kept looking out the front, trying to think. My silence seemed to put some doubt in her. "Zita, are you alright?" "Yeah - yeah." "You weren't just humouring me, were you?" Well, I couldn't go back on what I'd said now! Especially because I really had been rather honest with the compliment - if unexpectedly so. So I told her that, no, I hadn't been humouring her; and to show my sincerity, I added amidst some contemplation that she was in fact rather more attractive, in my opinion, than most nineteen-year-olds I knew. I was earnest (to my ears, repentant), and I garnished my reassurances with a fleeting glance at her. That was the least courtesy demanded and the most I would dare. I thought I felt her ramping up to another venture after; there was tension, anticipation, dread on both sides. But when she spoke, she was somewhere between meek and demure. "I don't remember when I've been so flattered," she said. "Can I get that engraved on a plaque?" I turned back to her now, feeling safer. She really wasn't an aggressive woman, and she engendered much sympathy. "Sure. And thanks, for before. For the compliment. About my figure." "Oh." She shook her head. "That wasn't much - I mean it's no secret you have a sexy figure, is it? Actually, for a compliment, for you, it was a bit poor." She was waiting for me, giving me the opportunity to let it drop or to take it up. She was giving me every out, I see now. But I was like two different people conversing with her, and neither seemed to know very much about what the other was saying. "Poor?" She had her permission now. "If I were going to make a proper compliment for you," she said, "but an honest one, I would have to say I've never seen a body like yours, in person. Am I embarrassing you?" I was blushing, I knew. I laughed. "I guess I do still get self-conscious," I said, smiling, and shying away. "But really?" "Yes, really." "Even with all those hot biology chicks in your classes?" I dared to tease. "Zita, there's hot, and then there's spectacular." What can I say? It really felt good hearing that. "Now you're TRYING to make me blush," I complained, and I bowed away. But Fed's voice came after me, a bit too serious. "You're just the most beautiful woman," it said. I realized that I had to dial things back. Fedora was definitely far too nice, far too real, far too genuinely likeable for us to go down this road - and so soon on top of it all! But I was too slow. She had time to add: "And I'm the kind of girl who notices beautiful women." That was pretty close to a confession, and it would have been heartless to ignore it or brush it off. I had no choice but to look straight at her, which I did. And what a charged gaze she was sporting, so alive, so hopeful, so afraid. I guess I looked something more like bewildered. "I bet a lot of guys take your class too," I said, fumbling about for somewhere to direct the conversation without being too abrupt. "Probably some, you know, because of you." I glanced down to her knees and back to support my point, even as I was second-guessing this conversational navigation: there was letting a girl down easy, and then there was leading her on. "Probably," she agreed. "No, definitely." She was superficially dismissive and inwardly glad of the fact, and it all showed through. "I guess it's annoying?" I tried. "Yeah, sometimes. But sometimes it's flattering to have someone interested in you, don't you think?" "Yeah, it is. Of course it is." Then I was suddenly and genuinely curious about something: "But do they ever flirt with you?" "The guys?" she said. "It's easy to terrify them out of that impulse." She was still laying bait, but I was too afraid. So she helped me out by leaning over and informing me that: "It's harder to deter the girls." "The girls?" What a dumb response. "A lot of you university girls seem ready to experiment, these days. And if a girl's willing to take the chance of revealing that she's interested in another woman, I think she's usually prepared to endure my dour face for a bit. Plus, as women themselves, I think the girls are less likely to be fooled by my silly ice-queen routine. I mean, we've all been there, haven't we?" "Oh yeah." "I have to confess, though, that my real problem is I can never bring myself to be cold to a girl who's gotten up the courage to take such a chance. So if they dare to flirt with me, I'm afraid they get rewarded. I try not to, but..." "It's human nature." "Do you think so? I hope so. Honestly, Zita, what do you think of me?" "I like you," I answered, simply. I did. "I like you too." She put her hand for a moment on my thigh. The slip, which had never reached to my knees and was smooth as only satin is, had slid down the tops of my fairly satiny thighs, owing to the cramped space and the resulting elevation of my knees. Fedora's hand was therefore able to land on bare skin very near my hip, with just her pinky on the slip's lacy fringe. But she was cautious still, and didn't leave her hand on me long. "That's a generous dress," she said. "Gawd, it doesn't feel big to me!" "No," she chuckled, "I mean it gives away a lot." "Oh! Well, yeah, it does that. I've never been out this...exposed, actually. It's a slip, you know." "I was wondering." I hushed my voice: "Kell insisted." "She likes to do that," Fed replied in her own hush. "But I guess that neither of us minds too much?" Now this was a different kind of intimacy between us, in our mutual regard: confessional, understanding, knowing, accepting. There was real sisterhood now, kinship. Jeez, I really did like this woman a lot. I mean her personality. Not that I disliked any of the rest of her. But we were talking about Kell. "I'm not sure," I said. Fed nodded, and looked at the back of Kell's head. "It's hard to say no to her." "Yes - God knows why." "You don't like her much?" "I do and I don't." "That's her charm. No?" "I suppose you could call it that." "You're right: it's less charm, more allure." "Fuck," I agreed parsimoniously. Then I hesitated; I wavered. And finally I just let go: "But what is it about her?" I whispered desperately, in collusion, and this time it was me leaning over to Fed, ushering my words directly into her ear. Gawd, she was so surprised, and so happy, though she was muting both. "I don't know. Everything. Her attitude, her tan - her tits." I liked the smell of Fedora's hair. Actually, it was very luxuriant hair, wavy, thick, and black. Really pretty. Fed turned her cheek a little towards me, no doubt curious to know what I thought of her final suggestion. My nose was still aimed near her ear, and so the edge of her face came to bear on mine in a very close proximity. I saw the softness and the texture of her lips beneath the lipstick, and then her right eye in its corner, monitoring my attention. I got another breath of her hair before I retreated back to my own seat, or nearly back. I know she took a more direct look at me, but I was pretending interest in the scenery out the windshield. We rode in silence like that for a minute - not really silence because of the radio. Kell passed on the opportunity to catch me in the rear-view mirror. I could sense Fed wanted to continue our risqué line of discussion. She took it up with: "Not that you've got anything to envy," which she sang cheerfully while waving a loose hand close to my breast. There was a mischievous bump in the road at that moment, and her forefinger twanged my nipple, which was obviously still firmly piqued. I thought it might have sounded a note. Anyway, I gasped and Fed froze for an instant, and then we looked to each other and offered each other a nervous giggle. I expected her to say she was sorry, but then I understood that she was aiming not to - and perhaps she really did understand me, because I realized next that I actually didn't want her to. I knew very well this wasn't consistent with my general intentions for the situation, but nonetheless, when I feared she was about to cave in a few instants later and make the apology after all, I gave her a friendly squint and looked away. "Cold night," I joked. "Very," she said merrily. "That slip is practically painted on there, too." Then she went from staring at my nipple to staring right into my slip, across my bosom into the dangerously deep-diving neckline. Probably she almost had a whole profile of my right tit, bare. And what was covered by the satin was revealed anyway in detailed relief. Now here comes a very bad thing. I shouldn't have done it. I really shouldn't have done it. And I swear it was only very slightly premeditated; the whole thing took just a few seconds, through which I careened on a runaway impulse. What did I do? It was nothing, really. I made a show of adjusting the bottom of the slip, under my ass, and pulling the hem to cover a bit more of my legs. This was all in supposed modesty, but the naughtiness was that at the same time, I was knowingly bowing forward, allowing the slip to hang away from my chest and thereby exposing my right breast in its entirety for Fedora. I even twisted my torso towards her to lift my left one out of the way. When I was done, I'm sure the guilt and the rush were clear in my cheeks despite my attempt at appearing modest. Plus, the slip slid back almost immediately to where it had been before, bunched up near my hip. Fedora took a slow deep breath that made her bosom rise outward while she studied my lovely legs newly revealed. Her study worked its way back up my body until she was addressing me: "Maybe you know," she began, "but you should watch out in the restaurant; you just flashed me your tit there." I pretended to be surprised, and was helped by the fact that at least my embarrassment was real. "Oh - thanks." I grabbed the delinquent breast protectively. Then I made some ineffectual tugs at the slip and some sheepish laughs. "Well, I guess it's not painted on after all!" I was supposed to be poking fun at myself. My nipples, meanwhile, were poking like crazy at the satin. Fed tested out bravery by bringing her finger very close to my nipple again, on the pretence of a gesture. "Wow, Zita." Yes, my nipples were very prominent, and particularly at that moment. The car jostled us a bit, again, but not enough. "Don't make fun," I said. "I'm sorry. I wasn't making fun." I pouted, adorably no doubt. "This would be making fun," she said, and then she flicked my nipple hard with her nail. This time I really gasped, with a bit of melody too. It hurt like a bitch! Kell gave an inquisitive and mildly concerned look in the mirror. I was completely discomposed. Fed was sniggering. "You!" I said, and I lunged over at her. She brought her arms up in front of her chest defensively, still sniggering, but I navigated them deftly and managed to get my fingers around her own nipple, and twist. That was after a couple of quick, unsuccessful gropes of her boob more generally, which was held in a substantial bra, making the exact position of her nipple hard to locate. She shrieked, playfully, and I retreated. We were both panting with exertion and high spirits. "That'll teach you," I said triumphantly. "Yeah, it'll teach me to do it again," she cooed, lying back in her corner, clutching her tit happily. "Now girls, I'll turn this car right around if you can't behave!" Kell announced loudly, and we all laughed. Zita's New Apartment Ch. 03 After our communal laugh, with its mixture of relief, embarrassment, and flirtation (well that last one was less in the laugh itself and more in the confused and bashful exchange of eyes between Fed and me as the laugh subsided), I didn't know what to do or say; so I turned my head against my window with my elbow up on the door and my fingers in my bangs, and tried to spy the roadway ahead. It was a natural sort of position that just came to me, given how I was slumped back in my corner of the seat. Nonetheless, I could not possibly have been oblivious to how it was spreading my chest, particularly on the right side, prying the deep V of my satin slip apart and showcasing the inside round of my right breast for Fed. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have been a big deal; just a sexy pose. But after the whole ride with her -- from my accidental but sluttishly suggestive ogle of her boobs before we even got in the car to my premeditated, pseudo-clandestine tit flash (oh my god!) just a few minutes ago -- the situation was anything but ordinary. Hell, what could she have been thinking but that I was ready, was practically begging to be converted. I mean, for heaven's sake, after everything else, I'd just felt up her boob, and my only defence was that I was only trying to get to her nipple so I could give it a good pinch. And so I found myself asking myself: "Why am I not putting my arm down? She's looking at me, right at me, and why am I not moving?" I could feel my slow breaths heaving my sternum. I stared out the window like my life depended on it, because as long as she didn't know I knew she was looking, I wasn't doing anything. I wasn't TRYING to be sexy for the older, lesbian woman. But it was impossible not to look at her, after enough seconds of contrived innocence. Yes, she was looking straight at my breast, and she let herself keep doing it even as I watched her -- even as I, evidently, permitted her. After enjoying the view for more than long enough to incriminate us both, she started to raise her eyes, gently, up to mine. I grew rapidly unsettled as they climbed. There was nothing to do but make a quip before they got to me. "Planning a second strike?" I said, twinkling. Ha ha, that was it. I was smug, bemused. Tolerant of her eccentricity, but hardly given over to the (rumored) sapphic delights myself. "Ah, no," she responded, and her demure lidding of the eyes disarmed me. It was such an adorable expression, really somehow innocent, and delicate. I felt coarse. I took my elbow down and faced her. "Good," I teased, "because...because you're a much easier target now." She looked to where I was looking and saw her right nipple, still plucky, assaulting her blouse. She smiled. "Look what you did to me." Then she shifted herself up out of her slump, brought her right knee up onto the seat, and squared her chest to me. She looked from one plump boob to the other. "I'm all uneven." True enough, her left nipple was barely visible, although I reckoned it had done a little growing of its own. Now I've said before that the car wasn't very large, and at this moment, Fedora's breasts were little more than a foot away from me. I was looking slightly down on the uneven nipples, taking in a decent helping of shady cleavage unavoidably. Moreover, because I was still slouching back on something of an angle, the silky shin she had brought up onto the seat was pressed against my thigh. I was run through by the feel -- the heat and the tender adhesion -- of her skin on mine, even as my eyes were filled with the sight of the cool, creamy pelt between her breasts. In a flash, like a revelation, I was conceiving of Fedora in the nude. I don't mean I was mentally undressing her, or daydreaming, or something; I mean her clothes suddenly became the weightless extras they were, draped over her but no more part of my notion of her than the car we were in. I was washed over with the awareness that she was actually all skin, from the hollow at the base of her neck down under her blouse and her bra and her panties and her skirt, all the way to her shiny knees and athletic calves. That sounds obvious enough, I guess, but it's really a rare way to perceive someone, even if you've seen them unclothed. For a second, I felt like I'd really walked in on Fed changing; I felt guilty. And then, of course, I felt a tad giddy, stoked by my discovery. "What?" asked Fedora, spotting my face. "Oh -- nothing." I paused, then looked away. "No." I shook my head. "Nothing." "What?" she pressed inquisitively. "Never mind." "Oh come on." I looked back to her, and she was made of clothes again. I had to focus to break their spell and see Fed as she naturally was. Thirty-four years old, and what a body! Those great big melons, hanging only slightly lower than their size demanded; the slender midriff; the flared hips and powerful thighs; the voluptuous calves and svelte ankles. Her arms, smooth and elegant. Her weighty, black curls tickling her collar bones, and her tinted Greek complexion. Well, anyway, I had to say something, something believable, to get her to stop asking. "No," I began, "I just thought that you...have nice skin." Fed gave me a puzzled look, and took a gander down at her cleavage, which was the only patch of skin anywhere near the uneven nipples that I had supposedly been inspecting. To get a better view, she pulled her little scarf from around her neck. Great. It seemed that in my attempt to be innocuous, I had managed to compliment Fed on the "nice skin" of her breasts. "What, on my boobs?" she asked me incredulously. "Naw, I mean everywhere." She seemed to think about that, but then I realized that she was just gazing at all the skin on display where her shin met my thigh, which was still bare owing to the bunching of my already short "dress" at my groin. And then she let her eyes roam all over my young, shapely legs. "So do you," she said. The roaming didn't stop, but went on up my delicate arms to the exposed margins of my breasts and the long V of my chest. And now, in a characteristic crazed moment, my brain struck on a lame pretext for doing something I wasn't supposed to do. And that was enough. Without warning, I pulled the wings of my slip completely off my breasts and bared them to her. I knew they were magnificent: full but only slightly large; tender, pert, and taut; with pale, triangular tan lines from my bikini and bright pink nipples ready to shoot off across the car. I figured they were her best fantasy come true. Certainly the look on her face was, as they say, priceless. Even before, with my little surreptitious flash, she hadn't seen them like this. It was like I'd injected her with something. But it was time for the pretext: "What, on my boobs?" I had forced the joke too hard, but wasn't sure she heard me anyway. Flushed with pumping blood and shame, I set the satin back on my tits and tried to look nonchalant. She took a glance at my face, but never really stopped looking at my chest. "Geez, Fed, you look like you've never seen a girl's tits before." "I've never seen a pair like that." She was still looking at them. "Not outside of Playboy." "You read Playboy?" I jested accusingly. But what the hell was I thinking? She probably actually did read Playboy. Duh. Fed finally took her eyes off my tits. "No," she said. "I look at the pictures." I laughed, having decided very quickly to treat it as a joke. And it was actually funny, which helped. "Have you ever done any modelling?" she asked me. "For Playboy?" "Sure, why not? But for anything. I meant it when I said you're spectacular. You've got the face of a starlet and the body of a model. And I doubt Playboy is your thing, but we both know those breasts are really sensational." "You're doing pretty well yourself." "You think so?" "Yeah, definitely." Fed was leaning back in her seat again now, and her knee had come down, but I noticed she was "letting" her calf lean up against mine. She put her hands under her bosom and hefted it a couple of times. Then, considering it with sober, critical eyes, she began to unbutton her blouse. Her bra was lacy and black as it emerged. Once all the buttons were free, she parted the two flanks and pulled them back to her sides. I noticed she pushed herself out a bit. "Nothing like yours," she said. "They're bigger." "Bigger isn't better." "Bigger is good." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "You think they look good?" "Yeah." "They droop, you know, when you get to my age." "Those aren't drooping." I gave her an assured look. She chuckled. "Well, that's the bra." "I don't think so." "Oh? Do you want me to take it off and prove it to you?" I smiled and shrugged deferentially. "I don't think it's the bra." "Is that a yes? If you think I'm afraid to go topless in the back of a car, you're wrong." "We're almost there, I think." "So?" She proceeded to slough her blouse off her shoulders and tossed it at me. It only took her a second to unclasp her bra, and then she was peeling it off, staring me down defiantly the whole time. It was all I could do to answer her stare and not look down at the show. When it was done, she handed me the bra, casually (but she was trembling!) and I took it from her. I looked at her bare breasts. They were indeed drooping a bit more than in the bra, but it was very natural and beautiful and fitting. They were impressive mammaries, that was for sure. She was a beautiful creature. "Not so weightless now, are they?" she said. I was caught without words. "Uh..." "See, I told you." "No," I stammered. "They're lovely." "Lovely?" Someone in a car passing slowly in the left lane looked in and saw her, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He tapped his friend on the shoulder and he looked over too. Fed saw me watching them and turned, giving them an even better view. She did a cute little pose and blew them a kiss, and then we turned off to the right. "Wow, I never pegged you for an exhibitionist." "I could say the same thing about you." "Me?" I'm not sure if it was all credible at that point, me feigning innocence. An SUV with two young guys in the back came up on my side of the car and Fed pointed her nose at them, getting me to look. Then hadn't noticed her yet. "Come on," she said, and she pointed her nose now at my slip, a wild look in her eye. "Oh..." I shook my head. "Come on. Come on, he's turning." She put on a sultry expression in anticipation. I looked out my window and saw the near guy turning his head towards us. I looked back at Fed, topless and glorious. "Fuck!" I said, and I pulled the slip right off my shoulders, worked it right down to my hips. Fed couldn't help her attention springing to me, to my fantasy figure, my fantasy breasts, all my miles of fantasy skin. Then the guys saw us and began gawking. Steeling ourselves with a mutual glare, we faced them and offered pouts and little dainty finger waves. They were a bit high up in their SUV, and Fed slid across to my side of the car so they could see her better. She slid right up against me. I felt a large, cool breast compress against my back. The guys rolled down their window to goad us on. In the front seat, Kell was keeping tabs on all this bemusedly. "Bad girls!" she shouted over her music. Then our two cars moved apart. Fed put a palm on my shoulder blade. "See, now that was fun, wasn't it?" she chimed gleefully. Her bare tit was still pressed against my bare back, and we were hip to hip, so that, really, she was sort of half embracing me. I was terrified and giggly, and I couldn't help myself from leaning back into her. It was so slight as to be barely perceptible. But she curled her other hand around my upper arm and pulled us gently together, and held us there without any force at all. I twisted my neck around to search her face, and afraid of that, ended up looking at her free breast. It was so close. I could smell her skin. Intoxicated, I swung my arm up and around her back, rotating myself properly into my seat, so that instead of pressing into my back, her right boob was pressed against my left tit and my thigh was up on top of her knee. Her right arm had followed my shoulder blade around, and so now we were half embracing each other. I was in love with this woman. I was totally, heart-to-tits-to-clit in love with her. I put my free hand on the round of her free breast, slightly underneath, and passed my thumb across her nipple. Zita's New Apartment Ch. 04 I was so infused with nervous energy, I felt like I was buzzing, like Fedora ought to have been able hear it. She was just watching me, letting me caress her naked breast, letting my thumb strum her nipple. I didn't dare meet her eyes. "That feels nice," she said sweetly. I bowed my head still further, but I couldn't remove my hand from her freaking boob. It was so soft and smooth in texture, and so full and supple in my palm. I adored the feel of it. Even after what had happened to me at the apartment that afternoon, I had never supposed I might be a lesbian. Evidently, I was a fair bit bisexual, but I was hardly rare in that, among women. No? I mean if they were in my situation... And it's not like I'd gone out to a dyke bar looking to pick up, or even like I took advantage of the situation because I'd always wanted to screw another woman. No, I had stumbled into an indisputably erotic situation, and I'd gone along because it was a turn-on being naughty, daring to taste the forbidden fruit. Sure it was. But nowhere in there, really, was Lesbian. Not capital-L Lesbian -- you know, PREFERRING women, more interested in seeing Monica Bellucci's chest than Brad Pitt's. But now, the feel of Fedora's breast in my hand was utterly euphoric -- a delight in the face of which I found myself opening to the idea of "Lesbian"; considering at least. This wasn't just taboo lust at this point, was it? How could it be? I wanted to be intimate with Fed more than I ever had with any man, not just physically, but in every way. I didn't just want to fool around with her; I wanted to make love to her. Gawd! I was becoming a real life version of such a preposterous fantasy! I was ravishing, I knew -- definitively attractive, and young and ripe and taut. As good a specimen of the female creature as Fedora would ever meet. A college babe, no less, who had been straight -- to her knowledge, genuinely straight -- her whole life. And here I was topless in the back of a car with a sexy Mediterranean lady fifteen years my senior, deciding that her right breast alone turned me on more than any raging hard cock I'd ever seen or imagined. But fuck it all, it really did. Fuck, it did! My wispy panties were completely immersed in pussy juice at this point. I could even feel it running down to between the cheeks of my ass, staining my satin slip (my "dress"), which had been scrunched from above and below into a thin ring around my hips. Fed, a thirty-four-year-old lesbian, could not possibly have hoped for such mind-blowing luck. Fed put a finger under my chin and raised it so that I'd look at her. Oh shit! she was beautiful. And being thirty-four, she had replaced the soft, juicy sexuality of youth with a hot, lusty elegance. Beautiful dark hair, beautiful dark eyes, beautiful dark lips. I wanted her to kiss me. I wanted her to kiss me so bad, and then she leaned forward so that our lips were just a breath apart, and I pursed mine out and met her. Then she came in further, with her whole body, and I felt the softness of her smile and the softness of our breasts squashed against each other. I could feel how mine was firmer and smaller, burrowing ever so slightly into hers. I'm sure I made some kind of noise. I won't even begin to pretend it was a chaste kiss; my mouth was open a half-second after contact, and I slipped my tongue between her lips. I think she was surprised by that, but she wasn't thrown off for long. She was deft with a kiss, and I quickly came to feel like a bumbling child; she mastered me, subdued me with the smart caresses of her tongue, and I submitted. Happily came the realization then that I loved the taste of her. And I absolutely loved the smell of her as my nose pressed into her cheek and we shared each other's breath. I took in her scent as deeply as I could. I felt cold fingers on my tit next and I shuddered for an instant, but then I channelled the chill into a renewed ferocity in our kiss. It pleased me to no end to have Fed touching me again, more delicately this time. I was getting lipstick all around her mouth, and no doubt I had her darker shade all around mine. We peeled our lips apart; we paused. We studied each other's face, so close. She had taken my whole breast into her firm grasp by this point and was kneading it slowly but deeply. "Did Kell tell you I was a lesbian?" she asked, smiling just a little. "Yes." "And so you've been playing tease with me all evening." I turned my head and shrugged, helpless to deny it. "I wondered, you know, when we met in the hall, just before we left, if you swung me way." "Really?" "Wasn't that what you intended?" "No! I mean, I should tell you, Fedora, I'm not really a lesbian." "Not 'really'?" "I mean, I haven't been with women, generally speaking. I'm kind of shocked you picked up on...something. Was I that obvious?" "No, not in the hall. But when you checked out my cleavage in the doorway, I think we can safely call that obvious. You're not really trying to convince me you're the innocent straight girl going bent, are you? I mean, lesbian alone was too good to be true! And you know it, don't you. You've been toying with me. You're the 19-year old campus venus, who knows she can have any vaguely bi-curious undergrad she wants, or her short-haired, unmarried professor if it tickles her fancy, or her best friend's listless mom, any night of the week. The blonde bimbo, the skinny bookworm, or sporty-spice. Tell me I'm wrong. Which is your favourite?" She was so wrong, but I didn't correct her. Instead I said: "You forgot her voluptuous biology T.A." "I'm not your T.A. That's very important to stipulate here." She laughed. "What if I take your class next semester?" "I won't hold any of this against you." "Against me?" "We both know you'll have moved on by then." "In that case, would you give me an A for another go? Or, like, for having me go down on you in the ladies washroom after class?" "Well, that might depend on how good you are at it." Oh, she knew what she was asking. I pushed her back so she was lying across the seat, I hiked up her skirt, and I yanked down her panties. I was dying to do it. I looked at her pussy. She had a dense, curly bush like Kell had said, and glistening lips of a brownish hue. I lapped them lightly with my tongue and she sighed. I savoured the taste, moved it around my mouth. Then, unable to delay any longer, I sealed my lips to hers and pushed my tongue in deeply. Fed didn't contain her pleasure, and Kell was well aware of everything we were doing. I had to imagine the look on her face, though, because there was no way I was tearing myself away from Fed's clit. She bucked every time I touched it. It was my first pussy, and it was delicious. That was my first night eating out with Fed and Kell. Of course, we forgot all about the restaurant.