Britta: The Worst Girlfriend

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When a feminist therapist drinks, friends are on the menu.
4.8k words
4.32
23.5k
13

Part 5 of the 5 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 06/10/2013
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Britta was drunk. Meeting her old anarchist friends often meant downing an insane amount of alcohol and this time had been no exception. They had literally downed everything.

If she were honest, Britta would have had to admit getting wasted at some dive bar had not been her original plan. Trying to pluck up the courage to discuss a failing relationship turned out to be thirsty work and by the end of the night she had drank so much vodka the dyed blonde could barely even remember her own name, never mind his.

The faux Therapist had found being in a long term, monogamous relationship stressful, and a minefield of her usual mistakes clouded their time together. So that night she was especially nervous; hence the heavy consumption of spirits. Knowing their relationship was doomed the blonde intended to make sure their last night together was memorable in the only way she knew how: With sex. Of course she didn't really need a reason to implement fucking her own boyfriend but it had been a while. And so Britta actually had intended for this to go well; not that she suspected there was much chance of that, given her track record.

The blonde was now however almost totally lost in a drunken delirium, only finding herself outside of a familiar door due to the mercy of her more sober friends. Befuddled, Britta stumbled up the stairs, trying in vain to maintain a modicum of dignity, or at the very least stay upright.

Pulling herself up the banister she slumped against the front door, rifling through her tan leather jacket's pockets to find a key. After much scrambling and frustration she fell head first through the entrance. For a couple of seconds she surveyed the dark innards of the living room, wide blue eyes squinting in the darkness, searching for something familiar.

In the pitch black Britta barely recognized anything. Thankfully though, the space was at least quiet and empty. The blonde was grateful; the trainee therapist could barely talk, never mind explain her deplorable state.

Attempting to tiptoe through the apartment, Britta knocked over a box of what appeared to be buttered noodles, cursing under her breath as she tripped, the contents spilling over the wooden floor. Attempting to correct her path, the blonde then put her hand straight through what felt strangely like a diorama.

Having disentangled herself from the Papier-mâché, Britta began to realize her incredibly unstealthy entrance had been the opposite of sexy. Chances were low that she could convince her likely sober counterpart to fuck her with this little poise. Stubborn as ever, she groped for the nearest door, finally finding a handle and gently pushing through its opening.

The light in the bedroom was even dimmer and the loud female groaned, attempting to make out where she was. Finding the outline of a double bed, Britta finally saw a figure, lying with its back towards the door. The blonde recognized the shape of a human sized lump curled up under the blanket and grinned; she'd found him on her first try. If the needlessly argumentative woman had thought for even a second, she would have realized that the window was in entirely the wrong location, that the person was far too small; but her rational mind was lost in a haze of alcohol.

Hiccupping the dyed blonde began to strip out of her clothes. This task was performed typically ungracefully, Britta shrugging off her jacket and throwing it over a chair. Next and with some difficulty, the blonde unbuckled her belt, pulling it from her waist before struggling with her favourite, if a little worn jeans. Tugging the skintight garment over her ample behind, the woman bent low, pulling her boots free.

Disentangled, Britta slipped her loose cotton top over her head, almost losing her balance before throwing it aside. Stumbling over to the bed, the faux Psychologist was now dressed in nothing but her red lace bra and stripy green panties. So she hadn't remembered her best lingerie? Britta was horny and willing to do anything; he wouldn't even notice.

Finally the blonde was able to join the prone figure, climbing beneath surprisingly soft covers. Quickly wrapping her arms around him, she began gently stroking the exposed skin of his neck, attempting to get attention, even spooning against his back.

Soon Britta felt him begin to stir and then slowly respond, starting to grind his boxer covered behind into her pussy. Britta bit back a moan, surprised by this sensitive, loving treatment in the face of getting laid. In her experience boys were fairly intent at these times and this was a nice change of pace. Figuring he was only just waking up, Britta slipped one of hands under the elastic of his cotton boxers. Sliding her palm downwards she was surprised yet again, not finding a single hair. Britta should have known then that this wasn't right.

Half a second later her index fingers made contact; not with a nice hard penis, but instead cupping a warm, smooth pussy.

The body that was supposed to be Troy turned over, moaning Jeff's name before pressing against Britta's mouth. Taken by surprise, in the pitch-blackness the dyed blonde's senses and reasoning failed, leaving her completely blank.

Without any reference Britta's brain decided to switch off, the pleasure of this soft embrace inhibiting her senses, baser instinct taking over. Plunging two fingers into the anonymous pussy, the dyed blonde relished the hot moist entrance that ensnared her digits. Part of Britta longed for this, the straight part of her psyche also totally ignored.

Continuing to move her fingers in and out of the person's nethers, she leant over the stranger to deepen and prolong their make-out session, enjoying the intimacy and naughtiness of being with another woman, something she had only ever tried once. By accident...

About a minute in however, Britta gained an unfortunate reality check in the form of the other woman's thigh squeezing between her legs; Things were getting out of hands, even by her drunken standards. To avoid humping herself into a sexual frenzy, Britta pulled away from the kiss slowly, breathing deeply. Ignoring a disappointed whine, the dyed blonde leant over the figure, unintentionally pressing their bodies together. Britta couldn't help but the large swells of an impressive bust against her own. Trying to ignore her misdirected desire, she continued, reaching for the silhouette of a bedside table lamp.

Flicking it on Britta was momentarily blinded. Opening her eyes she could only stare, bewildered, into the bewildered eyes of Annie Edison.

"OHHH come on!" Britta slurred drunkenly; "how'ss this happening again?!"

"BRITTA!" Annie shrieked; "What are you doing?!"

Britta looked down at the young brunette, avoiding the girl's now accusing gaze, instead shuffling backwards, focusing on Annie's kiss swollen lips.

"I.. um.. thought you were my boyfriend."

"Well I'm not!" Annie scolded, only then looking down at where her hand was and discovering it was currently covering Britta's breast. The brunette flinched, pulling her palm away like she was being burned.

Britta, also somewhat flummoxed, sat up on her haunches, straddling the other student's legs, allowing Annie to lean on her elbows below. There they stayed; frozen in awkwardness.

Britta eventually broke the silence, choosing her words carefully whilst attempting in vain not to slur them, breath still swamped in alcohol: "Okay this... whats happening here, was clearly just a mistake. I didn't mean anything by it, I-I just wanted to have sex with my guy!"

Annie, blinked, attempting to avoid a derisive snort at this explanation, well aware that Britta's relationship was a train wreck. The brunette also concentrated on not making any sound that suggested that the fingers Britta had elected to keep inside her pussy were in anyway bothering her. In spite of this her retort came out an octave higher than usual:

"Seriously Britta!? When we both know this is the apartment I share with Troy and Abed?"

Britta shook her head in a pointless attempt to clear her thoughts, brow furrowed. Again she replied sheepishly:

"Ohhhh, yeah. Right... My friends must have taken me here by mistake!!!" Britta giggled: "I really shouldn't be in your bed, huh?"

"You think?!!" Annie hissed in reply, still uncomfortably aware of the digits in her snatch, attempting to stay still when she really wanted to pump her hips upwards, to grind against a woman's skin... The brunette began to blush profusely.

Britta gasped when she read the signs, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu as the teenager between her thighs became increasingly wet and hot, the walls of Annie's velvety pussy squeezing her fingers tightly. Responding immediately, the dyed blonde began to slip her fingers free, preparing to mutter an apology. So she was more than a little surprised when the brunette grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.



"Annie, whaah are you doing?.." Britta gasped, again trying to pull her fingers free.

Annie twitched, not meeting the blonde's eyes: "Well, lets not be too hasty! I mean, at this point we've already crossed the line. You could just, you know, finish me off..."



Britta blinked hard, amazed by the girl's suggestion, Annie proving to be every bit the stereotypical horny teen, in spite of her goody two shoes nature. Such a proposition from such a pretty girl would have beeen irresistible to any guy, but the dyed blonde was a woman, and a feminist. She couldn't just give in to this teenager's urges; she still had a boyfriend! For now at least... Britta swayed unconsciously. But she needed this so badly...

Could she really be thinking of going off on top of this hot, horny, 19 year old girl? Again!? This girl, whom, at that very moment, was either consciously or unconsciously massaging her nethers with the bend of her knee?

Britta, struggling to breathe let alone think, finally used a hand to still the brunette's thigh. Gulping almost hysterically, she responded hysterically:



"Annieee! I-I think its kind of a big deal! I'm not a lesbian! Your not a lesbian! We slipped up before, but we got over it, acted like nothing, nothing happened! You really want to do all that awkwardness again?"



Annie bit her lip, unsure how to convince Britta to start moving those fingers again and even more concerned why she so desperately needed this blonde to do so. Rationalizing that the situation was already ridiculous; her attractive, scantily clad best friend pressed against her, she decided to try her luck once more, their breath mingling, messy dyed blonde hair tickling her nose. After all, how could she not be a little turned on? Anyone would be! The brunette blurted out another excuse:



"Its okay Britta, this time I know what I'm in for, remember?! Your clearly aroused, frustrated and sure, I was just sleeping innocently in my room when you decided to mount me but now I'm totally up for it too! If we're both consenting women, fulfilling each other's needs a-again shouldn't be weird, it should be... empowering! Right?"



Britta eyed the brunette below her suspiciously, trying to see through the drunken fog in her mind. The blonde knew when she was being played; Annie had no poker face. But the pretty brunette was so appetizing, sooo needy, her pussy lips squeezing her fingers like a vice. Why did that appeal to her so much? Was it that she was drunk, horny and that this girl wanted her? Britta sighed, oh she was going to go to hell:



"If we do this again, it's the same drill; neither of us talk about it, or tell anyone else that I.. we, had sex?"

Annie nodded energetically, beginning to unconsciously gyrate against Britta's fingers, her hormones taking over, forced to bite her pouting lower lip.


"And we both share the... gay stuff. No more ignoring me?"



Annie nodded again, this time furiously, squeezing Britta beneath the covers and holding the student in place; afraid she'd run away.

The dyed blonde sighed, looking down at the girl, her long brown hair sprayed out over her pillow, her soft pink lips forming a silent 'o' as she allowed her form to press against the pale brunette's. The faux therapist simply couldn't resist.


Bending low, Britta slowly pressed her lips against their delicious counterparts, beginning to tentatively move her fingers in and out of Annie's pussy once more. The brunette moaned uncontrollably into the dyed blonde's mouth. Britta smiled; Annie still tasted like strawberry's.



And so the blonde continued, kissing down her cheek, loving the girl's soft skin before moving over to kiss her neck and tasting Annie's supple flesh.

Feeling Annie tense, Britta bit lightly at the brunette's pulse point, before moving over to the girl's ear:



"Try to calm down, your shaking!" Britta cautiously added a third finger, as if to emphasis her point.



Annie gasped, trying not to think too hard about how her friend's unusually croaky voice was getting to her, instead enjoying the wonderful feelings of long fingers stretching and caressing her pussy.

Even with this incentive Annie could not control her twitching, nerve ends firing in pleasure seemingly at random. The brunette continued to shudder, cooing happily:

"Ohhhh, please just don't stop!" Annie groaned, reaching up and kissing Britta with more passion than she knew she had, while wrapping her legs around the dyed blonde's back, making sure those fingers stayed firmly embedded in her slick entrance.

Using this added purchase Annie lifted herself clear of the mattress into Britta's arms, now able to ride her friend's hand with increased vigour, undulating in the woman's lap. This brought the student even closer to the edge, forcing Annie to squeeze her eyes shut, attempting to remain relatively composed.

Britta grunted with strain and, using her free hand, tried to hold her friend up. Managing to get her palm down that hot, arched back, she renewed her grip on the girl's sweet behind.

The blonde watched in awe as the beautiful girl riding her fingers used this extra leverage to gain even more momentum, trying desperately to find release, both women panting with the strain.

"Woah!!! Annie slow down a sec," Britta gasped, afraid she'd drop her friend. Annie blanched, almost buckling once more, the illusion that she was not currently riding her best friend to orgasm suddenly breaking down. Instantly beginning to panic, Annie scrambled in Britta's arms.

Without help Britta swayed, before collapsing forward back onto the soft covers, crushing the girls together.

Tentative but still eager as ever, Annie sat up so that she could take of her tight top. Britta reveled at the display before her as a young torso was revealed, still soft with baby fat. The blonde's eyes travelled upwards, landing on the girl's perky breasts, for once free of the constrictions of a bra.

Knowing there was only one way to keep stimulating the girl and keep her still at the same time, Britta reluctantly removed a hand from her friend's ass. Cupping Annie's boob, she took her friend's breast into her mouth and began gently sucking and licking the girl's nipple.

Attempting to remain calm herself, the dyed blonde used techniques that she figured she had always liked, keeping a tight seal around the swollen nub. Annie croaked unconsciously, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the reality of her situation, simultaneously tangling her free hand in Britta's glorious golden locks.

Knowing she now had the girl temporarily distracted, Britta restarted her right hand's pistoning motion in earnest, holding the brunette tightly against her. All the while rolling Annie's nipple between her teeth, sucking down on her friend's boob as determined as she downed drinks.

For once Annie couldn't have spoken if she had wanted to; amazed by Britta's supportiveness even in her inebriated state. In the few times the brunette had even come close to this stage her own fright had quickly ruined the situation; Yet with Britta she was being played like a violin, or a harp! Annie gasped in ecstasy.

Running her free hand up and down the brunette's back, Britta figured the student was now appeased enough, allowing her arm to slide down further before entering her friend's tight polka dot boxers, squeezing Annie's pert behind once more. How could she be so smooth and soo soft? Britta smirked around the hard nub pulsing in her mouth; let it never be said a girl can't multitask. 



At this point Annie was more or less delirious, left with next to no composure as her body was attacked on multiple fronts, seizing wildly. Biting her lip the brunette withheld a cry, preferring not to let the boys know her current state of hysteria. Then Britta stepped it up a notch.

Feeling the hand that was penetrating her pussy moving faster and faster, the blonde then used her thumb to flick at Annie's clit. For the inexperienced brunette this was simply too much:


"Ohh, OOHHH Britta, its so good! Awww!!! please, I-I need to stay proper, I-I, Oh My..."

Within a few more flicks, Annie's body went rigid and she screamed out her orgasm:

"Brittaaaahhh!!!"



First slumping into the dyed blonde's arms, Annie convulsed, eyelashes fluttering as she tensed. Seconds later she turned bright red, realizing she had soaked her boxers and Britta's hand in her own cream.

Still catching her breath, the young girl fell back against her pillows; lost in orgasmic bliss, hand twisting in her straight hair, exhausted from all the exertion.
Climbing up beside the brunette, Britta attempted to awaken her groggy friend .

"Annie? Annie!" Britta moaned, the alcohol in her system causing her to slur once more as she shook the girl by the shoulder:



"Come on we had a deal, remember? Sister solidarity? Its your turn!"



Annie stretched, arching her back up off the mattress, less eager now that her own needs had been met. The drunken blonde after that display however, was now more horny and impatient than ever before.

"I'm actually pretty spent Britta..." Annie smiled, gazing up at her friend, almost dazed: "Just- just let me lie back for a minute..." The brunette's eyes flicked closed, tiredness making her drowsy.

Britta grimaced, determined to get some action, even from the spent teenager.

Shuffling up Annie's body until she was straddling her chest, the dyed blonde looked down at the pretty, curious face, eying the girl' fantastically soft, plump lips. Oh, she had an idea.



Wary of this movement, Annie opened her eyes, looking up at her friend, shocked to find herself effectively pinned against her own pillows. Now she was nervous all over again.

"Britta? What are you planning?..." Annie enquired, her hands shooting up to the blonde's thighs, attempting to hold her friend back, confused by this approach.



"I just thought, since you were too tired to get up and help out a sister... I'd go the extra mile, you know, do the leg work" Britta explained, enjoying the sense of control she never usually got over a fellow woman;
Annie wriggling between her legs, eyes wide and nervous.

Britta grinned lopsidedly, reaching down to hold onto her friend's hands, now tightly gripping her parted thighs, before combing her fingers through that luxurious brown hair, attempting to be comforting: 



"I just think you could stand to let your hair down a little, even princesses get messy," she stated matter of factly, emitting a small hiccup as she spoke.



"I guess... but I don't, I'm not gay Britta, whatever you have in mind seems..."

The dyed blonde cut her off, able to retort even through the cloud of hormones and alcohol engulfing her system:



"Don't over think this. Just go for it! That's w-what I always do..."

Annie nodded reluctantly with Britta smiling back at her, unsure whether she should really accept the drunken blonde as a role model.

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