Regina Discovers Sex

My name is Regina, and I take after my dad in looks. He had dark hair and skin that easily tanned. But I haven't seen him since I was five when he just left us all. Just like that. We never missed him, because he was really mean and used to beat us, all of us, even mom, maybe especially mom. I didn't know it at the time, but part of the problem was that he was always drunk. A couple of things mom has let drop since then have led me to believe he was a crook, too. Another problem he had was that he cheated on mom all the time. When he ran off, he took one of his bimbos with him. I remember that my mom didn't cry but once or twice, then moved us all to another town. She has taken care of us ever since.

I am eighteen now, and so is my twin sister, Crystal, and we are both in our senior years in high school. They say we are fraternal twins because we look nothing alike. I hate that term. Fraternal. Like we are brothers or something. Crystal takes after my mom, Christine. She prefers us to call her Christine, but to myself I just call her mom. She seems old to me because she is 33, but that isn't really very old. Apparently my dad knocked her up when she was 15 and he was 19, and then they had to get married. But she has worked at keeping her figure with a vengeance, and quite often, she and Crystal have been taken for sisters.

Both my mom and my sister have pale skin and blond hair, and tans won't stick to them, they just burn. I am tanned all over because I loved to sunbathe naked in the backyard where we have a high fence for privacy. Eye color is also different, my mom and sister have blue eyes, and mine are brown. I have always envied them their beauty, their grace, their lightheartedness, and even the fact that they both had pink nipples, moderate sized breasts and blond pubic hair. Their hair was always straight and lank, where mine was very wavy. They had very little body hair on their arms and legs. And even though I didn't plan for others to see them, I had to shave my legs every two or three days, otherwise, I was afraid I would look like one of those wooly hippy chicks. I am an ugly duckling.

I generally wear tomboyish clothes, because I don't like being ogled, and my sister and mom both dress to look sexy. They both say that I am very beautiful and that I should show it off. They say my full lips beg for lipstick, and my high cheekbones and sexy figure scream for sexy clothes. It is true that my breasts are larger than my sister's, and even a little larger than my mom's. That made me look like a cow or a sex machine, and I found either thought as revolting as the other, well, maybe cows weren't so bad, but who needs udders on their chest.

Sexy legs with big calf muscles, and dimples in our cheeks evidently run in the family, but those are about the only traits we share besides being all female, well there is one more. We are all tall. I am 5'7", my mom is 5'8", and my twin is an incredible 5'10". Please note, even here, I am the runt.

My sister dates all the time, and I never do. My sister has lots of girlfriends, and I only have one. My sister likes dancing and going to fancy places, and I like reading, studying and walks alone in the woods, sunbathing and climbing hills – mountains when I can get them. My sister talks about sex and boys all the time, and I have absolutely no interest in the subject. I have never even masturbated myself to a climax, at least not until pretty recently. In short, I don't fit, and have never felt like I do. This has always made me a little unhappy, but I figure that is the way life is. Until recently, that is, then I started to undergo some changes –pretty dramatic changes actually.

It started one night when my girlfriend, Patty, was over spending the night. Patty was just about my entire social life, and I loved her. She is sweet and understanding, smart and sophisticated, and I have never understood what she sees in me, except that we share a few interests. Like me, Patty enjoys her studies and loves nature and taking walks. Unlike me, she very much enjoys dating, shopping and sex. She often tells me of her escapades while dating, which has given me a fundamental if somewhat secondhand knowledge about sex.

Patty isn't a virgin and it was easy to see why. She was gorgeous, as tall as me, redheaded, and shapely, and like the blondes in my family, she had medium sized breasts that suited her curvy figure. I also thought her freckles made her seem warm and accepting although she said she despised them and claimed she was jealous of the way I tanned. She also said I had great 'knockers' which is what she called my breasts, and she said that she wished hers were like mine. I could only imagine she was trying to make me feel better about my appearance. I wore a 36D bra, which is way huge for an eighteen-year-old girl. At school, I wore boys' shirts and blue jeans and refused to tuck in my shirt, trying to minimize the size of my breasts. Still people would stare at my boobs. I hated it.

The lights were out and we were already lying in my queen-sized bed, just talking, something we have been known to do nearly all night in these stay-overs. Usually I put up with her talking about sex because I loved her, and I figured friends tried to take an interest in friends, and as usual, she was telling me about her latest date and how they had gone all the way. "Now, come on, Regina, doesn't that sound sexy?"

She had been talking about how her current boyfriend had gone down on her – an experience that she had detailed at length, and she assured me that she wouldn't let a boy fuck her unless he had both a rubber, and had already gone down on her. I raised my eyebrows even though I knew she couldn't see them, "I guess, but I really don't know why you would want to go to all the trouble."

She sighed in exasperation, "Trouble? It's trouble to spread your legs?"

I giggled, spreading and closing my legs in the dark, "No, I mean all the other trouble. Making eyes at him in class until he asks you out, dressing up, going to a movie, then driving out in the country to park where you could get killed by an axe murderer, and now you are stuck with him. He'll be like all the others and follow you around groaning how in love he is, and then you'll whine to me about how you don't know how to get rid of him, and then he'll get mad when you dump him and tell everyone at school what a slut you are... All That trouble."

She giggled too, "Ok, but how else are you going to get a guy to make you come. There are games you have to play to get sex, but believe me it is really worth it. It is even worth the risks, even though there are axe murderers stalking all over the place. I sure don't want to get pregnant either, you know! Do you seriously mean to swear that you have never gotten yourself off? Never even been curious about what the fuss is all about?"

I groaned, we were getting into an area I really hated to discuss again, and this conversation happened every month or so, but she was frank with me, so I ignored my pride and told her, "Yes, I have touched myself a couple of times now, but only because you keep making a fuss about it. And it feels nice when I touch myself there, but nothing else happens, and after a while I start to feel pretty stupid, and I quit. Maybe, I am just defective or something. Do you suppose we could leave it at that?" I knew she wouldn't though.

There was a period of silence while she digested this, then, "But what do you think about while you are doing it?" Patty planned to be a psychologist, and way too often, it would show in some of the things she said.

Like now, when she sounded like a TV therapist. But I answered honestly, "I guess I think about what I am doing, that's all."

She sighed again, this time in frustration, I think, "So you have never had a sexual fantasy?"

"No."

She continued and I could imagine her nodding, "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

I had to snort, "Of course, my mom, my sister and you."

"Yeah but we have never kissed each other except on the cheek," she explained patiently, "And that's not like a real kiss at all."

I had to giggle again, "So I am like the froggy prince, and I won't ever have an orgasm until someone kisses me like they do in the movies? Bend me over backwards and make my toes wriggle in the air while they stick their tongue down my throat?" I thought I was being pretty funny, but Patty didn't giggle back. There was just silence from the redhead side of the bed. I knew Patty didn't get offended easily, so she must be thinking hard about something – probably about how to cure my anti-social, anti-sexual disease – about which she was no doubt already planning her doctoral dissertation. I wished she would give up on me, but one must humor one's only friend.

Finally, she said, "Maybe that would get through to your latent libido; after all, it feels a hundred times better when someone else touches you, that is, a hundred times better than touching yourself."

This time my groan was inward for I didn't want to share with her my horror for what she called her 'experiments' and some of those had gone disastrously wrong in the past. Like the time she wanted to experiment with social taboos and squatted and peed on the sidewalk downtown in broad daylight. She was arrested, of course, and would have been charged with a sex crime: exposure, except that at the time she was fifteen. Her mother had grounded her for a month. Now that she was eighteen, she was maybe worse.

I could only imagine that she was mentally figuring out what boy I could date, and my horror deepened. I might have to buy a dress or something. I wore blue jeans in the winter, and cut-offs in the summer. I hated dresses. Then people would be staring at my legs as well as my boobs. I was actually relieved when I heard her plan.

I saw the shadowy shape of her head loom over me, and then she told me, "I am going to kiss you Regina, and while I am kissing you, you will be touching yourself, and I think you will start to feel sexual desire. You might even come."

Even though I was relieved that it wasn't a more bizarre experiment, I still had my doubts. While I didn't want to have sex with boys, I had certainly never considered the perverse idea of sex with a girl, or a sheep for that matter. "That would be queer, and I don't think I am, and I know you aren't!"

"You know absolutely nothing about sex," said Patty with conviction, "For one thing, sexual experimentation with the same sex is normal at our age, especially for girls. For another, I love you as a friend, and I also find you very attractive. Remember, I have seen you naked! You are so hot, Regina!"

"When?" I was a little shocked, "When have you seen me naked?"

I felt her shrug, "I have peeked over the fence when you are sunbathing in your back yard. After all, I do live in the house behind you, and our backyards are adjacent. All it takes is a stepladder. I've done that several times."

I wasn't offended, just surprised, "Why? Why would you even go to the trouble?"

"Because you are drop-dead gorgeous, of course, and I was naturally curious, and I think..." a moment of non-Patty-like silence, then, "Well, I think I may even have some sexual feelings for you myself, that's why."

I was even more surprised by all this, not to mention Patty's hesitation. She is usually so clinical. "Ok, but I don't want to touch myself while you kiss me, Patty, that would be just too icky. Let's just try the kissing and see what happens, ok?"

"Ok," she agreed. Then she kissed me, just softly at first. And it did feel pleasant, but certainly not sexual. Because she was my friend, and because I did have genuine affection for her, I kissed back, trying to soften and mold my lips to hers. After two or three of these, she whispered, "Anything yet?"

I whispered back since she had whispered to me, "No, but it seems nice, I guess."

"And you remember the stuff I told you about French-kissing?" she was still whispering.

"Um, yeah, it's like a conversation, give and take, rubbing tongues, exploring each other's mouth, and stuff," I couldn't help but giggle at the idea. It had never sounded pleasant or sanitary to me, and now I knew that was what was going to happen next. At least it was just Patty's mouth and not a stranger's.

"Ok," she giggled back, although hers was a nervous giggle, I think, "Then I will french-kiss you."

Before she could start, I whispered, practically in her mouth because she was so close, "And you don't have to peep at me over the fence, Patty, if you want to see me naked, just ask and I will take my clothes off for you. And if you like looking at me, then you can look at me all you want." And I really didn't mind. She said she might have sexual feelings for me, but I didn't find that too unusual, not about Patty. Part of her psychological outlook about the world was that everything was sexual, and after all, she did love me. She probably confused being hungry with being sexually attracted to scrambled eggs.

Her hair was making a tent around my head, she was so close over me, but I distinctly heard a quaver in her whisper, "Oh, Regina! I don't think I should ask that, I mean, would you really?"

"Of course, Patty. I love you. You're my only friend, and heck, I am closer to you than I am to my own family. If you want me naked so you can beat off while looking at me, I can live with that." Then she kissed me again, and this time, it really was different, for both of us, I think. Maybe it was the french part, her tongue touching mine, or maybe the fact that her body was touching mine pretty intimately, I mean, I could feel her breasts touching my breasts which felt alarmingly pleasant in a kind of scary way. Even through my pajama top and her tee-shirt, our breasts touching was a distinctly sexual feeling, probably the first I had ever had.

But I think it was mainly her passion that stirred something in me. This was obviously not just an experiment anymore, Patty was kissing me passionately and lovingly, and her breathing was getting heavier, and I felt her fingers curling in my hair. I knew then, that Patty definitely would like to beat off while looking at me naked, and suddenly that didn't seem like such a boring way to pass the time, in fact it was suddenly a very attractive idea. I would be lying in bed like this naked and Patty would sit between my legs and put her hand in her panties and touch herself while she looked at me with desire. Where was such a thought coming from? Was I a pervert?

And I felt it. Sexual desire. I felt it in my mouth, in my breasts, and particularly I felt all tingly and excited in my hips and tummy. And most of all, I felt it there; right there in my pussy. It was like when I was a little kid on Christmas morning, minutes before opening presents, and I would get butterflies of anticipation in my tummy.

Only this time, there were butterflies all over my body, and a small mob of the butterflies was flying in frenzied little circles inside my pussy. And for the first time in my life, I felt myself getting wet down there unexpectedly, and that was something of a shock. I knew I wasn't bleeding; my period was over a week ago.

I gently pushed Patty back, "Ok," I whispered, "It worked. I really feel it now, but I think I may have peed myself, just a little. I better go to the bathroom."

"What?" mumbled Patty, obviously confused, "Oh, I think I know what you mean, um... See, girls get wet to lubricate, to you know, er, fuck, but go ahead and check. You'll find it is clear, slightly sweet, and almost tasteless."

I hurried to the bathroom in something of a panic, but I found that most of what Patty said was true. I went back thoroughly confused and by no means elated. In bed, Patty was anxiously awaiting my return; in fact, she had turned on the lamp. That didn't make me feel better either. "Well?" she demanded.

"You were right, except about the tasteless part, well, even that I guess, but it smells like... would pussy be the word?" I flopped down on the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. I had experienced sexual arousal for the first time in my life, and with a girl. Worse, I liked it. I think I liked it a lot!

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," sniffed Patty airily, then she ruined her snooty pose with a giggle, "C'mon, Simmons, what did you feel? I'm dying to know!"

Sometimes Patty and I called each other by our last names – mine was Simmons. "Well O'Brian, if you must know," I drawled, determined to hide my panicky feelings, "I think I felt sexual desire. Warm and tingling feelings of excitement in various body parts, and I am sure you know which parts."

Patty clapped her hands, but at least she did it softly. "Then we made a breakthrough, Regina, don't you see? Now, you have to see if you can come!"

I was way too confused and embarrassed to want to try something like that right now. I felt overwhelmed already and certainly didn't need more whelming. "Patty, for once one of your experiments with human guinea pigs didn't produce a profound disaster. Let's leave it at that for the night, ok, and will you turn that lamp off?"

"No, I won't turn the lamp off, you said I could see you naked anytime I asked, and I am asking." Patty crossed her arms and tried to look cross. Freckled people shouldn't try to look cross, but that is just my opinion.

"Why now?" I'm sure I didn't keep the exasperation out of my voice.

"For several reasons," she shrugged and gave a sheepish grin, a type of expression that I thought freckles worked very well with, "For one thing," Patty was good at listing things, and here we go; "I want to look at you, and you said I could, and second, we have here an excellent opportunity, and third, well, you aren't the only one that got wet from kissing."

I felt dismayed, "You too? We're queer?"

"It's perfectly natural," she insisted, "displays of affection release hormones, yadda, yadda."

"Yadda, yadda? Girl, no one has said that for years!" I accused getting increasingly uncomfortable with the sex topic.

"Strip!" Her arms were still crossed and I could tell she was going to be implacable about this.

I honestly didn't mind being naked in front of her when I said it, but now that I knew she could turn me on, well, it was different. I wasn't sure why it was different, but unlike Patty and scrambled eggs, I knew when I was confused and wanted to back off a bit. But I didn't want to renege either, because I was sure she would make something psychological out of that. I sighed, sat up and unbuttoned my pajama top and tossed it on the floor, and then I pulled my panties off and tossed them on the floor, too. "Ok, I am naked," I said calmly while fighting the urge to dive under the covers.

"Wow," she unfolded her arms and looked me up and down with an amazed expression. "Regina, you are soooo sexy!" She stroked one of my shins with her hand. "Such long, curvy legs, and still such a beautiful tan even in winter... and your breasts! They're magnificent!"

I glanced down at my nipples, a slightly darker color of brown than the rest of my tanned breasts. They were taller than usual and still felt tingly. And the warm excited feeling below the waist was back, and I realized that something about the way she was looking at me and stroking my leg was getting me aroused again. I didn't like where this was going at all. Gently, I tried to remonstrate with her, "I feel a little odd, being the only naked person in the room, like I am on display or something?" I figured a hint would do the trick, and she would urge me to put my clothes back on. I figured wrong.

"I'm sorry," gasped Patty and began pulling her tee-shirt over her head. For bottoms she wore panties like me, or like I had been wearing. In any case, she was naked as I was before I could think of a way to rephrase my objections to being on display.