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Dress Code

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A young lesbian takes advantage of a Christian virgin’s crisis of faith.

I didn’t even realize it, until this weekend, when it got warm. Then on Sunday it was rainy again, and a Sunday, so I had to get dressed for church. It’s not really one of those Sunday best dressup churches, but standing in the mirror with my bra.

My new bra, I had just made it to A cups, and gone shopping with mom for ones that fit. The old ones were getting too tight, and because it was warm, I didn’t have to wear long sleeves or anything, but there was this guy at the department store, and what kinda guy do they let work in the women’s underwear, and sleepwear department?

Well, it was a little creepy, the way he looked at me, handling my new bra, but now I have to pick out something to wear to church. “Casual,” they call it. They’re not like the Catholics, nor the Protestants, they’re non-denominational, but it just feels like a half day at school now. Not Sunday school, now that I’m old enough to sit through the lecture, and almost ready for my Baptism.

They don’t christen you at birth, or as children, they want to wait until you can chose to be baptized of your own free will, but now. For some reason, as random as a hot day followed by a rainy day, and discovering that I had boobs.

Okay, I knew that I was getting them, but I guess they grew so gradually, and I didn’t really pay any attention, until I got some unwanted attention from that creepy guy in the underwear department. “Huh!”

I left my nighty draped over the end of the bed, and picked it up, but for some reason I imagined him peeking through the window. “Huh!” When I looked up, of course the curtains were still drawn, but the nighty felt so silky, then lacy on my face.

I bet he’s just the kind of creepy peeper that’d get our address from the store computer, and show up to try and watch me sleeping through the window. Getting up in my nightgown, and taking it off. Walking around topless, and stretching one of the bras he sold me over my boobs.

They got hot, and red, just thinking about it, and I don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior, but I was having such sinful thoughts, and then mom knocked on the door. “Huh?” I just held the nightie up over my red hot chest, and neck. “Who is it?”

“You better hurry up before your brother eats all the scrambled eggs.” She walked down the hall, when I hadn’t even heard her coming up to my door, and did she sneak up on me, to surprise me?

No, of course not, but it’s almost 9 on my bedside clock, so I barely have enough time to pick out a dress, and put it on. A short sleeve dress, virginal white, with bloused sleeves, and elastic to gather the ruffles around my arms, matching ruffles around the neckline, and it feels tight.

A little too tight, unless I want to attract attention, but I pulled out the ruffles, to see if they covered them well enough, and felt the cups under them. Closing my eyes, and biting my lip. Imagining a man’s hands on me, and when I cracked my lids. For a moment, I even imagined I saw him grinning over my shoulder, in the mirror.

Bette Middler called it an “Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder,” in that bit about Otto Titsling, Inventer, and kraut, I forget the rest of the song, but you get the idea. I didn’t exactly have Boulders, but they were certainly more than pebbles, and so soft, it surprised me. To find that I had something soft on my body, when I don’t guess I was in the habit of feeling myself up.

Imagining him coming in, and pulling back the curtain to the changing room, while I was in there trying on bras to grab me, and hold my face up to the mirror. His one hand letting go, and the other one moving over, to cradle my left bra cup in his elbow like a suckling baby, and pulling up the hem of my skirt to touch me through my underwear.

“Huh!” A little drool ran down the mirror, so I licked the corner of my mouth, and shook my head. What’s coming over me? I mean, yeah. It wasn’t exactly my first erotic thought, but this one, or these ones about the creepy pervert at the department store scared, and excited me at the same time.

I don’t really want him following me home, trying to peek in the windows, watching me sleep, and sneaking up behind me to grab, grope, and molest me. It should be giving me nightmares, but I didn’t even have wet dreams about him last night, that I could remember. It’s almost like he rubbed a little sin, or a tiny invisible demon into the bra, with his thumb, when he made some comment to mom about the lining, and then he looked at me.

Right at me, and my exposed neck. Shoulders, the brand new bra strap, and it wasn’t an immodest sun dress, but it was a sun dress, and he was obviously thinking about my tits. “Huh!”

I never even thought about them as “Tits.” Before, let alone said it out loud.

“Chloe, time to go.”

“Coming mom!” I grabbed my shoes, and ran out barefoot.

“Hurry up, we’re already running late.” Everyone else was in the car, and she was just about to get in next to dad, but then I stopped at the door, and felt a chill on my exposed arms. Hearing the water running in the gutter over the porch, and I almost had to pee, but all I had time for was to grab my raincoat.

I didn’t even fix my hair, but as soon as I got in, mom held a hairbush over her shoulder. “You really slept in this morning.”

“Huh, yeah.” I pulled the side out to the ends, and picked the tangles apart with my fingers. “Uh, I think I need a haircut, for spring. The weather’s starting to get nice, and I’ve got split ends from the wind blowing.” I just talked about the weather. Squeezing my legs together, and brushing my hair to cover it up. Talking nervously over it, when I could smell it.

In my hair, no it hadn’t soaked through my panties, but I was definitely pretty damp. “You should have taken a bath,” my brother rudely pointed it out. “You stink, and you didn’t even put any socks, or stockings on?”

“Huh, I had a bad night. Nightmares,” I lied, and shook my head. Looking out the window, with my face burning, and my bladder aching, because I hadn’t even gone to the bathroom this morning, but the rain streaking across the window in the wind sure wasn’t helping that. It was a distraction, and a welcome one just to spoil the mood, and cool off my horniness, but it didn’t get rid of the scary violent sexual thoughts.

“What about?” Dad glanced over his shoulder.

“Huh, just the usual stuff. Monsters, werewolves chasing me, and snapping at my heels, then turning back into half humans with dog heads to rip me apart, and devour the chunks.”

I remember that, recurring dream, back when that was the scariest thing I could think of, so I said that. Instead of what I was really thinking, which was kinda. You know, Furry? Like those furry boys, that draw cartoon animals, with cartoon bodies, and big bushy tails curled up, so you can see their furry asses, and long legs, but they get away with it at school, because the fur covers up their nipples about as good as clothes would, and my raincoat feels so hot, I’m sweating again, and looking down, the top of my chest is so red, I must be blushing all over under there too, and God I have to pee.

I don’t know if I’m cut out, for the whole Church thing. I still have time to decide Not to get baptized, but God knows I sure could use a quick dunk in the cold water, if they had the aquarium filled up behind the stage. Of course it wasn’t, it’s not really an Aquarium, it’s more like a big bathtub, with glass in the side, so we can watch the baptism, but there’s not one scheduled this week.

Finally, we got in, and mom asked me, “Where are you going?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I held my knees together, until she looked me over, and let me go. “I didn’t have a chance this morning. Because I overslept.”

She nodded, but said “Make it quick.” The guys were already going in, so I could hear the band playing new Christian Folk Rock, and the whole church was singing “Hannah,” along to the lyrics up on the screen. “Hosannah in the highest.”

At least it wasn’t that Hallelujah, song. You know the one by Leonard Cohen, and like a million other people. Jeff Buckley, but you know that Leonard Cohen was a Jew, and a Sinner. You just have to listen to, pretty much any of his other songs, but the music was quiet in the restroom. I sat down, and let it out. It was such a relief, but then I made the mistake of sniffing.

Looking down, I even saw the wet spot, like an up-side down teardrop, from feeling how damp I’d gotten, humping the mirror.

“Huh!” I just pulled them up, and flushed the toilet. Then, I saw the toilet paper, and held my dress up to wipe. Flushed that, but I didn’t stick around to figure it out in there. I wanted to feel an orgasm, but not enough to have my first one in a dirty restroom. Even the ones in Church, which are cleaner than most, but I took my raincoat off.

In the vestibule, I threw it on the counter, for the coat room, but of course Mrs. Landon wasn’t there. She was in listening to the sermon, where I was supposed to be, but I made up my mind, right then and there. “No, I wouldn’t make a very good Christian. Snh? And I need a shower.”

So, I went out, and as soon as I hit the sheet of water, running off the little roof over the arch. They need to put up gutters or something, but I put my head back, and felt my wet hair soak down my back. “Hsphf!” Spit tarry grit from the shingles out of my mouth, and ran out to the parking lot.

Refreshed, and spinning with my arms out, I felt so free. Like skipping school, but I yelled up through the rain. “God, let me go. Let me go to hell if you want me there, but I’m not your, good little girl. I never was, and I’m tired of pretending to be. I chose sin, amen.”

I kinda half expected some thunder, or lightning, but there wasn’t even a sign. I sincerely doubt that God cares all that much about me. 1 soul, amongst Millions, but I didn’t feel the devil in me. Not yet, but that sure took the heat off, and now I was feeling the chill. The wet cotton clinging to my frozen nipples, even through the bra, the lining, and on the way back to the archway.

“Huh?” I caught sight of me, in that wet clingy dress, and went over to wipe the rain off the side of the van. The church van, it was dark blue, and shiny enough that I could see my nipples. Not just poking out, but dark red. “Huh!” Who knew that my new bra, without the foam pads, to pad them out a half cup size until they grew. It was light, and thin enough to see them, even through the virginal white cotton of my dress.

“Hhuhvph!” I held them, and hugged my arms. Rubbing them, and hunched over in the archway. The little porch, with the shingles, and the sheet of water from them not putting up gutters, but I just got a cold shower. So, that cooled me off, but I still felt free, and also like I didn’t deserve to go back in there. With the faithful, my family, and the priests.

The christian youth of the band, and even the bassist had long hair, but he wasn’t for me. Kinda cute, but too Christian? I don’t know, most of the other girls liked the Guitarist, but he was even more clean cut. I think I want a metalhead, with long hair to run my fingers through, while we’re kissing, and his fingers run through my hair.

I don’t know if I’ll like metal music, but at least it’s loud, and kinda evil. If not too evil, maybe he can get me into it, but I can only just imagine what he might look like. Just his hair, and his hands on me, of course. Finally, there was a break in the rain, long enough for me to run for it. I lucked out at the street, the light had just changed, so the cars weren’t backed up, and the ones just started weren’t sped up enough to hit me running across to the sidewalk.

Honk! I got my first honk, like that old faded bumper sticker, #HonkIfYou’reHorny? I don’t really know how hashtags work, I don’t have a smartphone, but I guess they’re like buttons, and bumper stickers online.

;

Martha (Ff…)

Ding! “Oh dear lord.” I came around the counter, “You’re soaked.”

“Yeah,” she looked up. Stopped halfway through rolling her eyes, and smiled. “I think he had something to do with it.” She shook her head, “I ran away from church.”

Across the street, it wasn’t exactly busy on a rainy Sunday morning, but we’re not the sort of shop that gets rushes, church or otherwise. It’s quiet, so I like working there.

“Well, I don’t have a towel, but there’s a box of teeshirts in the back.” They weren’t flying off the shelves. “Come on.”

“Marty?” She shook her head. “Oh, I’m Chloe.”

“Martha. I wrote it too big, so I ran out of nametag space, and just finished it off with an Y.” She nodded, and pulled out teeshirts, once I unfolded the flaps on the box. Wrung her hair out in one. “Me too.”

“Hm?” She shook her head.

“I ran away from church too, when I was. Well, a few years back, so I have some idea what you’re going through. A crisis of faith?”

“Yeah, I uh. Woke up this morning, but I didn’t dream all night, and for some reason, I made up for it, when I was wide awake.”

“Huh!” She turned around, and held her hair over her shoulder. “You mind giving me a hand?” So I could get at her buttons. “Too bad there’s not a clothing store around here.” She held up the teeshirt, and turned it around. “Huh!” She sighed, and dropped it. Slipping the fluffy wet sleeves off her shoulders, and shaking her head. “Can you get my bra-strap too?” The shoulder straps came off with the sleeves, but my hands didn’t shake for a minute.

Helping a young teen out of her clothes, she was soaking wet, and shivering when she showed up, or at least her chin did. With her face dripping, she looked almost like she was crying until she saw me, and smiled. Pretty smile, too, but I was more concerned about her well being than aroused.

“Huh, so how come you decided to open up an alternative lifestyle bookstore right across the street?”

“I didn’t. It’s not my shop, I just work here.” She pulled another shirt out, and slipped it on before she turned around. So, I backed up, and watched her shimmy out of the wet dress. Letting it hit the floor, she looked down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, um.” She bit her lip. “If you have a mop, I can clean that up.”

“Yeah,” I went around to the mop sink, but I couldn’t help noticing how the wet cotton also clung to her pubic hairs. I jumped when she threw the soaked dress in the mop bucket.

“So, you’re. A…” I nodded, and pulled the mop out of the clip. Flipped it over, and handed it to her.
“Homosexual. Woman?”

“What gave it away?” I held out the sleeveless flannel collar, under the sweater vest, and looked at it, dramatically.

“Well, most of the girls I know wouldn’t work in a place like this, but they’re Christians, so.”

“Yeah. I kinda left the church when I had a difference of opinion with the pastor, over what constitutes homosexuality in the scriptures.”

“Oh yeah?” She tilted her head, so the twist of wet hair rolled off her shoulder. “So, lesbians aren’t homosexual?”

“In the scriptures, it doesn’t say a damned thing about women lying with women, as they would a man. Masturbating, honestly. Huh, they don’t really acknowledge female sexuality at all. There’s a commandment about coveting your neighbor’s wife, but that was about it.

“The extent of your sin?”

“Yeah, I had a neighbor.” I grinned, “With a pretty attractive wife. Look, the bible was written by men, old school priestly types, and Rabbis.”

“Like the Cohens. Like Leonard Cohen?”

“Yes, I believe that’s a Jewish name, like Singh.”

“Singer?”

“No, Singh, it’s a Punyabi name, from northern India, and Pakistan. The Sihks, they have a name like Cohen. Only it’s Singh, in sandskrit.”

“Oh, huh!” While we’re talking, i rolled the mop bucket after her, and she just mopped up the rainwater, without really thinking about it. I’m just the same, I’m a woman, and gay bicurious, or straight, you still learn your way around a mop.

“Thanks.” She just dropped it in, and followed me back. Holding the handle, so it didn’t drag on the floor, across the stockroom. “I guess you get to read a lot, working in a book store, huh?”

“I also pretty much grew up in libraries, to avoid people.”

“Especially boys?”

“No, not especially boys, people in general. I still get social anxiety, around a lot of people. I can’t stand crowds, but one on one. Like this, I can handle talking to men, and even couples, but any more than that, I start to feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, I can empathize with that, but I think I’m the opposite.”

“An extrovert?” I guessed.

She nodded, “It’s just. Well, Christians. I never really was all that comfortable around a lot of them, and I guess I started to, well. No.” She shook her head. “I suppose ever since I found out about Santa, and the Easter Bunny, I had to wonder who else they lied to me about.”

“Well, I’m pretty Agnostic about the whole thing, but I guess I’ll find out when I die.” Not in any hurry to find out, though.

“I hate being lied to, especially when it’s people that say one thing, about telling the truth, then turn around, and lie about, well everything. They’re so fake, and the whole thing just looks like they’re putting on a show for God, and each other. I guess.”

“Hmhm?”

“That, and it’s another day at school, and we’re supposed to have the day off for the Sabbath, but instead, they put on a show, to show how holier than thou they art, and talk about the sinners, that need to be saved.”

“So, they are baptists. I always got a baptist vibe off of them.” It just says Christian Fellowship out front, but they’re not like Assemblies of God, or Word of Faith pentacostal holiness type non-denominational. Closet baptists.

“Just watching them go to church, across the street?”

“Well, no. Of course, we’re a big target here, but Manny, and Karl.”

“Who’re they?”

“Oh, they’re the manager, and owner, respectively.” I nodded.

“Manny the Manager?” She laughed.

“Yeah, ironic, because he’s also super duper girly. You know.” I flopped my wrists around, and minced. “One of thoth guyth.” Lisped.

“While you’re one of those girls. A little tomboyish, and.”

“Butch?”

“Yeah, I forgot the word for it.”

“Yeah, well it’s not like, an act. Honestly, I wasn’t tomboyish at all growing up, I just. Well, after I came out, I discovered some things, mostly from the older women.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the big thing is pockets.” I stuck my thumbs in mine, and pulled them out, feeling the corduroy. “It never occurred to me to question what I was wearing, and carrying a purse. You don’t have one?”

I just realize, she came in without one. She shook her head, “I forgot it. Spent so much time this morning, playing with myself, I was in a bit of a rush to get dressed.”

“Hmhm?” She picked an Extra Large, so it hung like a baggy dress, thankfully low enough to cover up her underpants. Her wet, white cotton see-through panties. I looked up.

“Huh!” She rolled her eyes, and turned away. “Uhn. Fortunately. I never really got the chance to have my first orgasm.”

Okay, now it’s official. She’s not just flirting with me, she’s actively seducing me, but I’m not so butch that I can’t take my hands off the wheel, and let someone else drive. “Until I got to the girl’s room at the church, but I didn’t want to do it there. I never really tried it before, so I didn’t know what to do.”

“There’s not really any trick to it. It’s more important what you’re thinking about than what you’re doing…”

“Huh! That’s the problem.” Her shoulders fell, and she nodded. “There was this guy. The other day, Friday afternoon. I finally convinced mom that my bras were too tight, so she took me out shopping, and the guy that checked us out.” She giggled. “No pun intended.”

“He checked you out?”

“No, he leered, and licked his lips, like I was a hot hamburger fresh off the grill. He was practically drooling, and mom rushed me out as soon as she caught him looking at me like that, but. It didn’t even turn me on, it just creeped me out, until a couple days later. Then, you ever just wake up, and keep dreaming, even though you’re wide awake?”

“Well, sometimes I remember a particularly nice dream, and try to keep that in mind while I fall back asleep.”

She nodded, still turned away from me, and just staring off into the corner. I got the feeling that she either didn’t want to look at me, or she didn’t want me to see the look on her face.

“I know that, I do that too, but this was different. I didn’t have any dreams last night, so when I woke up, for some reason, my mind decided to overwhelm me with images, and my body.” She felt up the front of the shirt, so the back pulled tight, and showed enough of the seat of her underwear for me to look away.

“I can’t say that I’ve never been horny before, but I’ve never been That horny, and what I was thinking about.” Finally she turned around, and her face was bright red, but she looked terrified too. “You said that’s the important part, but what if all you can think about is scary, and wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know. We have a few books on dream interpretation.”

“What’s that got to do with being a lesbian, or bisexual?”

“Nothing really. Huh, Karl’s just got this spiritual eastern religions kick, and if you haven’t noticed. There isn’t exactly a line of LGBTAs beating down the door to buy books on the subject.”

“Oh, so it is a pagan bookstore.”

“I guess.”

“Huh!” She shook her head. “You’d think they’d focus more on the pagan part than the. Okay, I know LGBT is.” She counted on her fingers, “Lesbians, Gay, Bi?” I nodded, “And transsexuals.”

“The A is for Aces. Asexuals, and agender.”

“Oh, what happened to the Q?”

“Well, there was a controversy about that,” I am so glad the sexual tension went away, and she let the teeshirt hang down over the tops of her young skinny thighs. The gap between them, the still damp cotton crotch, and the muff of minge she kept up front. I glanced up. “Uhm.” Oh right, the Q in LGBTQ. “And it was confusing. Too.”

She smiled, and bit her lip, then she turned around, and leaned over the box. Back over by the box of teeshirts, she folded up the flaps, and put her elbows up on it.

“Hhuh!” She sighed, and didn’t look back, but of course, the hem pulled up in back. Bent over like that, and I could resist her, only so much. I didn’t ask her, if that’s what she wanted, and she didn’t say it out loud, but she hinted at it, even before she deliberately, and blatantly assumed the position.

So, I made my move.

;

Chloe (Ff Bicurious?)

“Huh!” Ironically, I don’t remember it well. Just the first few lines, kept repeating in my head. I remember you well, in the Chelsea hotel. You were talking so brave and so sweet. Giving me head on the unmade bed, while the limousines wait in the street…

Up until then, it was the dirtiest thing I had ever heard, but Leonard Cohen. He’s one of those singers that can make even a beejay by Janis Joplin sound depressing.

I wasn’t born again. I grew up in the church, but a lot of them were Born Again Christians, and I never really understood what that must be like. Then, I woke up this morning, and I didn’t feel born again.

I felt something, for the first time in my life, and I didn’t even have the tingles to warn me that I was numb, but starting to wake up. Take away that, the pins and needles, and that’s the closest to what I felt all morning that I can compare it too.

I woke up, my body first, and then my mind got over-active with my imagination, trying to catch up? I think that I might be getting a thing for stores, and cashiers. Maybe I always had one, and I just didn’t know, but this was definitely weirdly familiar.

A big part of it was the role reversal. First, the guy working in the women’s clothing department. Obviously so he could perv on women, and young girls buying underwear, and lingerie. But then, I met Marty, and that part was kind of the same, only reversed, again. Like a mirror image, first you have the name Marty.

I guess that’s a lesbian name, a little boyish, but it suited her. No, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed, but it wasn’t 1 thing, it was 2. Her arms were bare, they looked strong, and soft at the same time. Then her hair, it’s long, but tied up in a ponytail, with bangs.

I don’t know, maybe I went straight for the gay, and lesbian (With some books on eastern religions, and superstitions) bookstore on purpose. Maybe I was hoping that a gay man would be there behind the counter, but a big part of it was I wasn’t supposed to go in there, and also it might be the last place my family would come looking for me.

I can imagine the rage on my father’s face, and the disappointment on my mother’s. My brother? Well, he’s a boy, and it’s not hard to imagine the grin he’d get on his face, when I get caught in here, with a Lesbian.

She just. Well, I was also reveling in this mix of sexual expectation, with a pinch of fear thrown in. I don’t know why that doesn’t turn me off, any more than I know why I didn’t have nightmares, and just started having violent sexual daydreams this morning. I think I pushed them down and ignored them too long, until they built up, and burst out all at once, but I was right.

Her arms didn’t just look strong. “Huh!’ My head felt heavy, as soon as she felt across my shoulders, and her fingers gripped my arms. I was kinda hoping she’d go for my tits, but she didn’t, and I’m also enjoying the little surprises like that. Her breath shot out of her nose, right before her warm cheek pressed against my neck, and her thumbs rubbed up under the baggy shirt sleeve.

It was weird, and felt gay. I blinked, and looked up. “Huh! I’m not gay.”

She let go. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be, I didn’t say that to make you stop. I don’t want you to stop, I think?” I shook my head. “Huh, it’s even more of a turnon?”

“What is?”

“Hhuh!” I felt a chill, and reached for the cable knit sweater. She backed up, so I followed her, and caught it, to pull it up.

I giggled, “Not being gay, it just makes this even more wrong. I don’t know why, but I like that.”

“You’re just conf.” She rolled her eyes, and bit her lip. Shaking her head, and that lip bite was so girly. She’s not manly at all, but she dresses like. Well, I don’t know, a lesbian I guess, it’s not manly, it’s just. Pants, with pockets, and her shirt too. It had breast pockets, and she had a bra on undernteath so I could feel it. “I can’t believe I almost called you confused. You’re clearly not, obviously.”

“I’m just not worried about it, and I don’t want to think about it any more. I want to act on it, and do something with these feelings.”

“I know, it might not surprise you, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been with a straight girl.”

“Oh, hano.” I had to laugh. “You’re not going to pretend that you don’t know how good this looks on you.”

I started on the top button. Well, the 3rd button, but that was the highest one she had buttoned.

“Yeah.” She blushed, and admitted, with an attractive bit of shame. “I know how it looks.” She looked down, then got a dirty grin, biting her lip, and pulling up the front of the teeshirt she gave me.

I still have that shirt, but then she went for my hips. Held them, and rubbed my hip bones with her thumbs, before she pinched them, and helped me shimmy out of them. The last thing, I was wearing from home. The last shred of virginal white my mom bought me, because I’m sure that’s symbolic of the way she wants to see me.

Imagine me, being this good girl. This perfect little angel, and if she could only see me now. “Huh, I don’t even know why straight girls seem to like it so much, but I have a confession to make.”

I got down past her bra. “Huh! Where did you get a denim bra?”

“Uh,” She looked up. “Target?” I just put my arms up, and let her take my shirt off. Then, I turned around, because there’s nothing I wanted so much in my life more than to be taken from behind. Okay, I wanted a man, but she’s man enough for me, and even the womanly bits.

Now I knew what Queer felt like. There’s another word I heard, and never had a feeling I could pin to it, but it didn’t feel gay. It felt queer. “Huh, well I like it.”

“My bra?”

I nodded, “It suits you.”

“Well, honestly, it’s just the warmest underwear I had this morning.”

“Exactly. you pick clothes, like pants, because they have pockets. A bluejean bra, because it was cold, and rainy this morning, and then I picked the worst thing I could possibly wear to church on a cold rainy day, but both of us both happened to look so good.”

“Huh, yeah.” She felt so warm, soft, and naked against my back. “You looked so good in that wet dress, and underwear. Huh!” She held my shoulder again, but her other hand felt around my hip. Her fingertips ran through my pubic hair, and my head got all heavy again.

“Huh, why don’t you touch my tits?”

“Okay.”

“Uh!” Her fingers slipped down, too. The hairs curling back up, so i could feel the little mound swell up, then squish when the pressure from her hand pushed it up? “Uh, fuck, huh!”

“You’re so hot. Young, and hot, and a virgin?”

“Oh!” I blinked, and shook my head. “Is that why you like Christian girls?”

“It doesn’t hurt, or it doesn’t have to hurt, if you know what you’re doing.”

“Uh, huh!” I tried to hold my head up, but it was too heavy, and my knees started shaking. “Hhuhuh! How. How do you break my cherry without it hurting?” She popped out, so fast that I felt it pop. “Uh!’ I hunched, and my elbows slipped in the box.

“I don’t.” He pushed me up. Practically picked me up by the ass, and the box slipped off the table. I fell a little, but I was already squirming to get a knee up, so I didn’t fall far. I just got that thrill you get when you’re leaning back in a chair, right before you fall, and you realize that you’ve gone to far?”

“Hauwswooh!”

“Uh!” I felt her breath, and first it was hot, but then it felt almost cold when she pursed her lips, and blew my crotch dry.

“Smooch.” She kissed it, then shook her head, and slipped her fingers around my leg. Between my legs, to lift it up. Out of the way, i was laying sideways on my hip. So, I grabbed my knee to hold it up, and felt her fingers run through my pubic hairs again.

“Uh god!” I ran my other hand through my hair just to feel it. “i never even imagined how a lesbian would do it.” Well, then she spread her fingers, in a V, and her lips parted mine. Her fingertips between my thighs, and my sex, so her tongue could slip back, and forth, sideways. “Huh, fuck, that feels good. Uh god that feels so good.”

Even her bangs brushing my thigh, and her chin digging into the other one, so I could feel my pusle beating in my leg. I heard her tongue stud rattle across her teeth, and I vaguely remember seeing it twinkle when she talked. She only ever lisped once, when she was impersonating Manny or Karl, I forget which. Just that Manny was the manager, so that was easy to remember, but of course I heard why they get their tongues pierced. I just thought it was for up, and down, in the top. Not back, and forth. Sideways, so it rolled across my lips, while the tip slipped back, and forth wetly between them.

“Uh, huh, yeah, fast. Her. Huh, fast. Her!” I couldn’t even breath deep enough to say the word faster. I had to split it up, into 2 grunts with a gasp in between, until her tongue waggled too fast to even keep up, and my tummy spasmed. “Ngrk!” I half snorted, and then I felt it ripple out like a pebble hitting the glassy smooth surface of a pond. “Oh, huh! Ohhhhh! Huh! OhhhhhHhHuhuh uh!”

“Huh!” She stopped, and I could feel her breath on my thigh. Her hand gently pressed my hip, so I could let my leg go, and just hang off the table. Even the cold hard surface of the table felt refreshing, and fantastic, as her breath huffed out on my pubes, still spasming tummy, breasts, neck, and chin.

Then, she kissed me, and slipped the tip of her tongue in, to roll the stud back and forth, and rattle it on her teeth.

“Smuip!” I licked my lips, and realized what that taste was, then blinked. She smiled, and her eyes went soft. I just tasted my sex, on her lips. I touched them, and smiled back at her. “Um, I don’t know if I can do that to you, but I sure wanna try.”

;

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