Ron Taylor: Two hot families

I blushed. "Of course not."

Dierdre laughed, then leaned toward me. She put her hand on my knee and our eyes locked in again, and I found myself wondering if I'd been wrong in dismissing her lesbian potential. Maybe I'd found a new kind of dyke. "You don't have to be," she said. "You really don't have to be lonely at all."

She moved off the bed in a graceful crouch, and onto her knees in front of me. I looked down at her, and she was staring up at me. Carefully she opened the lower part of my bathrobe, baring my knees and calves. She smiled, then kissed one of my kneecaps. There was a loud smacking sound, and I felt her small wet tongue graze me. Her hands stroked down to my ankles, then back up to my knees and I shivered. This was a new brand of seduction, I thought, which was only appropriate if I'd discovered a new brand of lesbian.

She slipped her hands into the still closed part of the robe, sliding up the outsides of my thighs. Again she kissed my knees, and then she lifted her face. "You're not acting like a despoiled virgin," she said. "Am I to believe…"

"…that I've been this route before?" I said, voice as blase as hell. I shrugged. "A few times. It's no big deal. I figured somebody would be hitting on me sooner or later."

Dierdre laughed again. It was a pleasant, merry laugh. Her eyes were liquid with interest and arousal, but she still didn't impress me as the lesbian type, even if she was feeling me up and propositioning me. "Then you won't mind if I try this, too?" she whispered rising on her toes. Her face loomed large before mine, and my eyes closed automatically as she pressed her mouth onto my lips.

She raised her hands, too, inside the robe, and it opened all along its front. As she kissed me, grinding her mouth against mine, licking my tight-closed lips with her frisky tongue, she brought her hands up, into play on my breasts.

There was something electrical, almost, when her palms covered my tits and pressed down upon my nipples. God, I thought, I hadn't realized that my nipples were so stiff! Was it leftover from the self-diddling Dierdre had interrupted? Wouldn't I have been more aware of it, in that case? She plied my tits with her long, cool but warming fast, fingers, and her tongue shoved through the resistance of my mouth, fucking its way into me like a flat, agile snake. Her breath flowed into my mouth, and so did her saliva, mixing with mine, and somewhere in that moment's connection, my arms flew up and encircled Dierdre tightly. Pulling her up, off the floor, dragging her onto me where I sat on the chair.

My legs opened, and her slender body fitted into the gap between them. I was kissing up to meet her now, my head tilted back, and the chair was tilting too, as bath of us leaned further and further backward.

She was no longer holding my tits, but my robe was fully open and her body was pressed against mine, her bigger breasts pressing insistently against my small, by now stiff-nippled cones. Her hands were around me, sliding up and down my sweat-moist back, reaching down to cup the neat little cheeks of my ass and pinch them with loving firmness. I opened my legs a little wider, felt her jumper scrape at my half-parted pussy lips, the material all scratchy and exciting on my wet, tingly flesh, and I let my own hands slide down to stroke her butt, too. She pushed me harder with her body, and the front legs of the chair lifted from the floor.

I felt us rising, felt the chair leaning back, back, back until it bumped the edge of the desk and anchored itself. We could rock but we couldn't fall over. Not unless we got really wild. Somehow, deep in my heart, I felt like getting really wild. With Dierdre. Oh, come off it, Barbara! I told myself. You're just worked up from frigging yourself. You'd probably turn on to a porcupine, prickles and all, if one made a play for you right here, right now.

But Dierdre didn't feel like a porcupine. She didn't feel, or smell, or taste, like anything except what she was. A girl. Definitely a girl. And I rubbed her ripe, woman's hips and ass, tracing the cleft of her buttocks through the jumper skirt, and I thought, yes, she's a girl.

Well, I thought, is it really going to hurt anything? I know the score. And it wouldn't be bad to have a close friend who's working as dorm proctor, would it?

But even while part of me was making that cynical, self-serving decision, the rest of me was responding in a way that had nothing to do with cynicism.

Well, I could feel myself getting all hot and sticky, down there, where her jumper skirt kept tickling my pussy lips, and it seemed that we had our best contact when the chair was reared back on two legs. So, after a few minutes, the chair stopped rocking up and down. It stayed in one place, reared back on two legs. And Dierdre kept rubbing herself against me, kissing me till I could hardly breathe, her hands active on me, her body an unmistakable, irresistible presence on mine.

"Oh, wow," she said, prying her mouth loose, leaning back. The chair settled onto all four of its upright legs and I leaned forward from it. Dierdre's hands slipped away from my body and she pulled herself off me, standing up. Her face was flushed under its coating of tan, her lips were even wetter looking than they'd been when she came in, and her eyes glittered with the promise of pleasure.

"Did I say it was no big deal?" I giggled nervously. I could see myself in the makeup table's mirror, and there was soft crimson lipstick all over my mouth and chin and cheeks, smeared, blurry lipstick that hadn't been there before. And if I could judge from the mirror, my own eyes were doing their fair share of glittering, too. I looked down at my body, exposed in the open front of the robe. My nipples were as stiff as they'd ever been, in all my fifteen years, and I could feel the sticky coating of girl-juices on my pussy lips. Quickly I closed my legs, squeezing thighs together until my cunt ached. "Aaaahhhh!" I moaned in gratification, hunching my shoulders and throwing back my head.

"I was hoping we could be friends," Dierdre said, dancing back, out of reach of the hand I flung after her. She was nimble and graceful on her feet, with a dancer's or a gymnast's ease. "Really," she went on, crossing around the bed. "When I saw you at orientation this morning, I felt this super, strong attraction. At least, it felt very strong to me. You looked like a girl who needed friends, and I'm the friendliest person you'd ever want to meet." She reached up behind herself, undid a couple of buttons, and the jumper went rippling to the floor. Dierdre stepped out of it, wearing nothing but her blouse, whose tail hung low in front and back.

No. I was wrong. She unbuttoned the blouse and tossed it away, and I could see that she had on the underwear prescribed by the school's dress code. "Brassiere and panties must be worn by students at all appropriate times," it read. "Exceptions will be made for sleep and bathing."

Of course, I don't think the framers of the code had Dierdre's kind of undies in mind when they wrote the immortal words. It was only because the code was worded generally, I guess that hers qualified. The bra was black, trimmed in lace, and rode low on her tits, low enough to allow Dierdre's small brown nipples to peek curiously over the tops. It supported her from beneath, though I doubt she really needed any support. Her titties were a bit larger than mine, maybe 35's or 36's, B cup and set a little lower and further apart.

For panties, Dierdre was wearing what amounted to a strip of black nylon between her legs, help up by a low-slung band of elastic round her waist. I guess you'd call it a G-string. Hair, dark and thick and fleecy, peeked out at each side of the string, spilling wildly from the inadequate concealment.

"My God," I said, "where did you get those things? Frederick's of Hollywood?"