Elsa: Will She Or Won't She?

Readers of "A picture = K Words in College" know this is a sequel to that series and can skip the background for new readers. This story is longer than originally intended, all Elsa's fault.

Milt and Vicky are siblings, now freshmen in college, hers near his. Since the summer, they are enjoying a very incestuous relationship. Vicky's roommate, Elsa, knows all about it, but thinks they are cousins. The two girls have discovered that sleeping with each other is better than just admitting that they know that they both masturbate. It took a while before they started to enjoy cunnilingus, inspired by Vicky's telling Elsa what her brother - "cousin" - likes to do. Elsa has had only one and a bad experience in bed with a boy. Vicky thinks she should should have good one, with her brother. Elsa eventually catches on to the implication of Vicky's remarks, then repeatedly asking: "You really want us to?" When Vicky and Milt are together, he also gets the gist of his sister's talk, asking the same question. The three of them are together a couple of times, once because Vicky has her period, the other time because Milt's roommate, Tim, needed their room, hoped he did. New readers would have to click back on the series to discover how it happens that Milt and Elsa end those evenings kissing – to their surprise.

Milt finally admits to himself and then to his sister that he would be willing to do anything Elsa wanted to do. After meeting her again with Vicky at a concert in the girls' college, as arranged with his sister, he suggests they all meet the following Saturday, knowing that Vicky will have her period again and excuse herself. With a little urging, Elsa agrees, replying to him: "If you really want to?" Then she quickly adds that she didn't mean it like that. Milt tactfully replies: "I'm sure you didn't." They all laugh, recognizing the implication that her words could refer to their sleeping together. He promises that they can spend the afternoon doing "something else, anything you want." She suggests the science museum, "since there are no paintings there," a reference to the afternoon they had spent in the art museum, where Vicky had found a book with a picture of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" and said that Elsa looked like her. Elsa didn't deny the similarity of her figure with that of the artist's ideal of how Venus should look, both of them also blond.

Milt tells the story, beginning with his preparations for meeting Elsa.

* * *

Saturday morning, when I put fresh sheets on my bed, I wondered if I should put the rubbers under my pillow, but then decided that I didn't want it to appear that I had been anticipating too much, and put them in my toilet kit, as though I just always had them somewhere. With the same thought, I didn't buy beer in advance. If we did go to my room, if she agreed to, it would look better if I then suggested getting a six pack. With butterflies in my stomach, I went to meet her at the bus stop.

Waiting for the bus, I remembered telling my sister that this was a crazy idea, and that she had said that Elsa had said the same thing. It was; one isn't suppose to have a first date with a girl and know that both know that the other one could also be wondering if they were just going to jump into bed together. Well, it wasn't really a "first date," we had kissed twice, as good as we could, but still ... It was going to be funny meeting her again.

When she got off the bus, we both smiled, but I felt that hers was as unrelaxed as mine was. Oh, it was nice to see her again, but with all we knew about what Vicky wanted us to do, hoped, expected us to do, we both were obviously apprehensive.

"Nice to see you again," I said.

"And you, too," she replied, but her smile seemed a little force.

Mine was too. She looked down at her feet and then murmured:

"You know what she wants us to do."

"Um-hmm," I agreed softly with a nod, very surprised that she had immediately referred to that.

She glanced up at me, just a glance, a timid, blushing glance.

"We don't have to," I replied. She gave me a better smile, just a little bit better, agreeing:

"We don't."

She looked at me again with a really better smile, and we both chuckled, almost laughing, nervous release. We had settled that question already and could just enjoy each other's company. I smiled wryly and said:

"She'll be disappointed."

Elsa nodded with a grin. I suddenly had an idea and said:

"We could make up a story for her, have to agree on one, so that both versions are the same."

"Serve her right," Elsa replied with a nod and grin.

We chuckled again. This was going to be fun, I thought, but still offered:

"Or we could go to the science museum."

"And discuss our story in the tram and in the museum?"

"Could be interesting for people."

"It sure could be, if we wanted to make it interesting for her."

"It would have to be, she could ask questions, to you, especially, when you get back."

"Oooh, yeah, hadn't thought about that. Hmm! I guess I've asked too, when she returned from being with you."

"And she tells?"

"Hmm? Probably to make me think it would be good with you."

"Didn't want you to think to say that."

"Guess I did, anyway."

She gave me a wry smile. I nodded and replied:

"I don't know if you'll want all that in our story."

"Oooh! I don't either!"

"She must have told you a lot?"

Elsa just nodded with somewhat abashed smile, letting me wonder what all my sister had told her. I remarked:

"We'll have to work together on the story, to keep it to what you think we might have done."

She nodded again, with a less abashed smile, then replying:

"Couldn't let her think we did anything I probably wouldn't want to."

"Exactly. If we don't want people to overhear us planning this, with a beer in my room?"

She nodded again. We had been walking slowly towards the subway station. I turned aside and we went to the nearest bottle shop. With a six pack of cold beer, we turned in the direction of my dorm, not speaking until we were in the room. I took her coat and hung it up, mine too. She was still standing. As I got two beers, I said:

"Going to have to sit on my bed."

She nodded and sat down. I handed her a beer and sat down next to her and raised my beer, and we both drank and smiled at each other, this time a little less relaxed. Sitting together on the bed was just a little too close to what we weren't going to do there. I shrugged and moved back across my bed to lean against the wall, and then she did, with a slight nod, then murmuring:

"Our story," apparently wanting me to start. I took another sip and said:

"Well, it has to start somehow. We're assuming that we both wanted to, however we agreed about that."

She nodded with a slight smirk, again waiting for me to continue:

"Hmmm? I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have just come here and said: 'If we're going to,' and started undressing."

"Oh, for sure not!" she replied with a grin.

"So, even if you wanted to, it's going to have to be a little more subtle, maybe sitting like this, not to suggest anything."

She nodded. I continued, reminding myself to keep my ideas in the subjunctive:

"Well, I guess I would put my arm around you. I won't, but you wouldn't mind, since ... well, you know."

She nodded. I continued:

"I guess we would finish our beers, and, well, the obvious, want to kiss. We've been there before."

She nodded again, and I said:

"Not to suggest that, just the obvious beginning. You wouldn't mind that we lay down, kind of expect it, and, well, we would be embracing. We've – somehow – already agreed that we wanted to, so I guess I would be pretty sure that you wouldn't mind my hand's slipping up under your sweater."

She nodded again and took a sip, and then murmured:

"I guess so, too. Seems obvious."

"Um-hmm. Not just under your sweater, the obvious."

Had she nodded and taken a deep breath in response to my suggestion that my hand would have been finding her breast? I asked:

"Are you wearing a bra?"

She nodded. I asked:

"Can I, I mean, could I shove it up?"

She nodded again, then with a chuckle replied:

"Just 'could', for the story."

"What I meant. You're going to have to help me. What are – would – you want to do?"

"Hm-hmm! Wait for you to shove it up."

We both chuckled and drank. I hummed and replied:

"My hand on Venus' breast."

"Maybe you shouldn't make it so ... 'interesting'."

"Sorry. Got a little carried away; just trying to make the story move forward."

"Hm-hmm! What do I – would I – have to do?"

"You'll have to tell me."

Elsa glanced at me with a wry expression and had a sip of beer. She glanced at me again and said:

"You know more about this than I do."

"Not really; Vicky and I just sort of ..., well, it wasn't like this, like our story should be."

"Hmm! That's no help."

"No. If you accept that we're lying down, kissing and embracing, I guess it would be like when we kissed before. If you don't mind my saying it, getting straight between us."

"I didn't want it to get that 'interesting', at least, your telling me."

"If we're wanting to, something more has to happen."

"I guess so," Elsa replied.

"Hmm? Maybe I would roll you up on to top of me."

"That would be all right. And then?"

Well, you'd let me shove up your bra, so I guess my hand would then have to be somewhere else, like wanting to unhook it."

"Hmm! I guess so, if I were wanting us to.

"That's the premise."

"So you do."

"Are you going to be surprised or maybe nod?"

Hmm? Maybe both. I sure would be more than surprised, except that I am supposed to be wanting to."

"Me too, supposed to be. I guess my hands would be all over your back. We're still kissing, aren't we."

"Sounded like it."

"If we're supposed to be, ... Remember, I haven't done this, just trying to imagine what could happen."

"What?" she asked.

"Well, you're not suppose to be minding that we've gotten something straight between us, any way you want to understand that.

She chuckled with a nod, and we both drank. I continued:

"So I expect that my hands would be trying the find how to open your skirt."

"Two hooks and a zipper. Oooh, shouldn't have told you that."

"They would have figured that out."

"And I'm supposed to want them to?"

"That's the premise, at least, only be a little surprised."

"I would be."

"And I would be to, that you're just a little surprised."

"I guess if we knew we were going to do it, I would only be a little surprised."

"I probably shouldn't say it, but when we were kissing, you rocked your hips a little."

"I did?"

"You did."

"And you think I should – would – lying on you like that?"

"Well, I could imagine that you would, when you let me unzip your skirt."

"Hmm? Can't you just tell me what we would do, without the details?"

She drank, and I did, emptying my beer. She finished hers. When I held out my hand, she handed it to me. I got up and got two more beers. When I turned back to her, she grinned wryly and said:

"I guess so; didn't sound like we had another one in our story."

"I don't think so, but it's just a story."

She nodded with a smile, and we had a sip, after I had sat down again. She repeated:

"Without the details."

"Pity, I was having fun. Somehow we get your skirt and my pants off."

"Not my panties?"

"You didn't want any details. Also not my boxer shorts."

"That's good."

"I don't know what for, but if you want it that way."

She nodded with a grin. I chuckled and asked:

"Are you then back lying on me?"

"I was thinking so."

"Did we take off your sweater and my shirt?"

"You'd have to have take off my sweater; I wouldn't do that."

"But maybe unbutton my shirt?"

"Oh, sure. Do you have hair on your chest?"

"Hm-hmm! Since we're not going to, you won't know. Do you want me to?"

"Dad does."

"Then I do too."

We chuckled and drank again. This was really being fun, but when she then said:

"I hope so," I was flustered.

Of course, we had been skirting around saying anything to suggest that we weren't just agreeing on a story for my sister, but her remark hadn't been – and I didn't have hair on my chest. Should I ignore her remark, or pick up on it and catch her spontaneous admission that she wasn't just thinking this was just about our story? At least, my sister hadn't told her that I didn't have hair on my chest. I skipped over her remark and said:

"So, we're almost naked on the bed again. That's nice, lots of bare skin."

"You weren't supposed to add details."

"Too late. Sorry, but you sort of asked, wanting us still to have our underpants on."

She chuckled with a nod and replied:

"Guess I did; just wanted to be sure, for the story."

"To tell Vicky?"

"To be sure that we still had them on."

"You can still stop us – in the story – if this is going to far."

"Almost," she replied with a slight chuckle, taking a sip of beer, but then encourage me to continue, reminding me:

"So, I'm back lying on you."

"Did we take off our tops?"

"Hm-hmm! I guess we did."

"Uh, your bra too?"

"Oooh! I don't know.

I took a sip, and she did. I waited for her to speak. She gave me a wry smile and then said:

"I guess I would have let you; we're supposed to be wanting to."

"Oh, right. I would have been – tried to have been – discreet and not really look, standing close to you, looking in your blue eyes."

"Sounds like we're about to kiss again."

"Good idea, and then we're back on the bed, belly to belly."

"Mmmm! That's nice, like with Vicky, and kissing again."

"Of course! Do you kiss her as good as you kissed me?"

"As good as she kisses both of us."

"Real good. And, well, since we've gotten that far, I expect that I would be wanting to hold your bottom."

"But just on my panties."

"Okay, but my fingers are going to be wanting to slip inside them."

"On my bare ass?!"

Did I just think that I saw her thighs twitch? I took another sip, and she did, and I replied:

"Well, if we're going to – in our story – you should sort of be expecting that."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Would you want me to – uh – kiss your breasts?"

"I guess so. Hm-hmm! Of course! If you wanted to."

"I would!"

"But I wouldn't tell you."

"But you wouldn't mind my then holding your bare ass and urging you to move up on me?"

"Hm-hmm! Probably want you to. Oooh! Are my panties going to slide down?!

"I hope so, hope they would."

"But you still have your shorts on?"

"Oh yes, of course, but, well, you know, there's not much else between us."

"I was afraid of that," she murmured and had another sip.

"It's only our story, I replied softly."

She nodded. After a long moment, she said:

"Maybe we should just tell that we didn't, that we just had fun making up a story to tell her."

"She would think that funny too."

"Very; probably tell me that I chickened out, missed the best opportunity I could wish for."

"She really wants us to?"

"You said it," she replied, giving me a smirk.

We grinned and had to laugh. If I hadn't been holding my beer in the hand nearer her, I might have given her a spontaneous hug. We both had more than just a sip of beer. She gave me another grin and said:

"I'm going to have to use your bathroom when we finish them."

"Me too. And then? Continue the story?"

"Maybe just take a nap."

"That would be nice. Anything you want to do," I agreed.

She nodded and took a sip, and I did. It felt like there was just one more in my can. She smiled and said:

"Yeah, that would be nice."

"Probably more comfortable without you skirt, if you don't mind my suggesting it."

"And your pants, too?"

"If you don't mind?"

"I guess not."

I finished my beer and suggested that I go first in the bathroom. She nodded and finished hers. I put them aside and went in the bathroom, just shoving the door closed, but then trying not to splash in the toilet bowl. When I opened the door, she was waiting impatiently. She gave me a quick wry smile and hurried in the bathroom, also not closing the door completely. I took off my shoes and socks and pants, hanging my pants over the back of my chair. Then I called to her:

"May I also take off my shirt; it'll just get rumpled?"

She chuckled and replied:

"If you have hair on your chest."

"I don't."

"Oh? Well, still."

"I'll be in bed; you don't have to see me. I'll keep my eyes closed, won't see you either."

She just chuckled. I envisioned that she had nodded. I hung my shirt over my pants and got under the light covers, lying with my back to the wall, and closed my eyes, tightly, so that she could see that they were closed. I heard the soft noise of her slipping out of her loafers and socks and then the rustle of her taking off her skirt. Then it sounded as though she could have chuckled softly. Then the covers moved, and she slipped in bed with me, her bare knees touching mine. She drew the covers up. I could feel her breath on my face. Then she murmured:

"You can open them now."

I did, seeing her smiling at me, a sort of mischievous smile. She remarked:

"Hadn't really thought about under the cover, but nice."

"Sorry, if that surprised you."

"Only nicely. You can put your arm around me."

"Is that a good idea? Doesn't sound like it."

"Probably not, just more comfortable."

"I still don't think it is," I replied, but slid my hand from my hip to hers – on her panties – and then up a little, wondering if she expected me to slide it up her back inside her sweater. There was no sweater! She smirked with a slight nod.

"That's really not a good idea," I murmured, as my hand slid up.

"I know, but when I saw you in bed, well, ... You do have your shorts on?!"

"Of course!"

My hand discovered that she also had taken off her bra! I only muttered:

"That too?"

"Um-hmm, seemed stupid to keep it on, if your hand was going to be there, like in our story."

"This isn't our story."

"No, but, well, it's just so nice, like lying with her."

It was! But this wasn't anything I had planned or expected. When her knee then suggested that it wanted to be between mine, I unconsciously let it, like I would have with my sister, then thinking that she and Vicky must also overlap their thighs. Elsa just nodded, as I let her slide her thigh up and mine drew up over it.

"Nicer," she murmured, and her hand slid under my arm onto my side. Involuntarily, I drew her closer, and her hand held me closer. Her firm breasts touched my chest, and her hand drew us closer together, mine then too, embracing as close as we could. We were supposed to take a nap like this?! Her soft "um-hmm" wasn't in response to my question, just confirming my feeling that this was too nice. My eyes had closed again. I opened them. Of course, our faces were closer together, noses almost touching. Her eyes were open. She murmured:

"I know, we weren't going to be like this, but since we are."

"Not a good way to start a nap."

"We could try."

"You'd better turn over, before I want to kiss you."

She rocked her head up, our chins touching, and replied:

"Do I really have to?"

"If you want to try to take a nap, your suggestion."

"Didn't know it would be under the covers, like this, and your suggestion to take off my skirt and your pants – and your shirt."

"But not your sweater and bra. They were going to let it just be a nap – I thought, at least."

"I was too, even without them. You really want me to roll over? You can hold one, like she does."

"And then you fall asleep?"

"If you do."

"Unlikely, very unlikely!"

"Hm-hmm! Then I don't have to roll over."

She hugged me, and I hugged her, wondering when she was going to feel my cock. If she wanted to kiss, she was going to. And if we did kiss, she knew from our story that I would want to roll her on me, and do everything else we had talked about: hands in her panties, kissing her breasts, and whatever could follow.