tagLesbian SexBecoming Sisters Ch. 01

Becoming Sisters Ch. 01

bySo drained©

Pledging a sorority wasn't exactly what I had expected it to be. I knew there would be some difficult moments, where I was forced to confront myself in ways I usually avoided, but I looked forward to those, thinking I would grow from that sort of challenge. What I didn't expect was the intensity of sisterly feelings that the whole process would generate, that I would come to feel so inseparable from my pledge sisters in every imaginable way.

I never gave much thought to joining a sorority, let alone becoming an Alpha, until my roommate Paige said that she was going to rush and convinced me to visit some of the houses with her. I'm generally independent minded and not especially interested in meeting frat boys or wandering around campus in identical dresses with a bunch of girls who look just like me. I didn't think a sorority would have anything to offer me; I didn't need to join a club to have friends. Nevertheless, Paige and I made a whirlwind tour of the different houses, and I have to admit they mostly seemed the same to me, the girls included, lots of girls who smiled too hard, with dyed blonde hair and clothes that didn't quite fit right. I wasn't impressed, and I didn't really care if I impressed any of them, which had the effect of doing just that. Everyone told me how poised I was, how natural.

What was weird was how the sorority sisters at so many of the houses would so overtly check the new girls out, not just for their personalities and stuff like that, but would check out their bodies, staring at our breasts and calves and asses like all the leering frat guys do. Were they afraid we'd be competition, that we'd make them look bad by comparison? Or was it the opposite, were they trying to make sure we would uphold the sorority's reputation? I couldn't tell. I knew I was fairly attractive, that my body was normal; I was well-proportioned and had a pretty symmetrical face. My breasts were round and firm, curvy but not heavy. A high-school boyfriend told me I had a "sweet ass and great legs" which embarrassed me to no end at the time, but that I secretly thought about a lot to reassure myself during those awkward years. Still I wasn't sure why these girls needed to look at me so intently. I felt strangely aware of myself as a body, and I didn't really like it. At one of the houses, I finally asked one of the sisters what was up.

After some small talk about my purse and my shoes, I asked, "This might be weird, but I swear that some of the girls here have been, you know, checking me out."

The sister, her name was Ashley, probably, or Kaitlyn, they all seemed to be named one or the other, played dumb for a minute, but after I reassured her I wasn't offended by it or anything, she said rather cryptically, "You know, the female form is beautiful. It's something we care about a lot, feminine beauty. We spend a lot of time together in the sorority," she said. "It's no fun looking at girls with a bad figure." Ashley had room to talk; hers wasn't bad at all. In fact, I would have sworn she had her boobs done, they were so balloon-like, packed into a dress that was a size or two too small.

"You like 'em, huh," she said when she noticed me looking. I almost blushed. It was too stupid. "It's alright, I like them too. My graduation present. It was either these or a car. I don't know, boobs seemed like more fun. I guess I'm just that kind of girl," she laughed. She took another sip of punch, I'm guessing it wasn't her first glass. "It was weird, when I first got them, I couldn't get used to the idea that they were mine, you know. That I was really seeing myself in the mirror. I could tell the guys were staring at me more, and I started wearing tighter clothes, you know, to take advantage. But it wasn't like they were looking at me at first, it was like they were seeing someone else, and I was watching that person too, but from the inside. Does that make any sense?"

"Sort of," I said. "But mine are still natural."

"When I first got them, I wanted everyone to touch them, I didn't care who. I couldn't keep my own hands off them. I wanted to make sure they were real, that they were there, and it wasn't some dream. That I really wasn't that flat-chested tomboy anymore."

"It's hard to believe that you ever were," I told her.

She smiled as though I had flattered her and made a flirty pout at me. "I still like to let people touch them," she said.

At first I thought I hadn't heard her right but then she pressed close to me, just for a second, so that our chests actually brushed against each other. Something in my face must have showed how surprised I was, because she excused herself quickly after that, and I never saw her again.

Everything was different when Paige and I visited the Alpha house though. The girls seemed more like women, capable and comfortable in their skins. There was less superficial conversation about makeup and clothes and lots of talk about ambitions and community activism, academic standards, that sort of thing. These seemed like professional women of the future, and they spoke of the networking advantages to be had by being connected with the sorority. It seemed like a real opportunity to set oneself up for a strong career after college rather than a chance to fuck frat boys and get drunk. I was surprised and impressed. So was Paige.

In the long evening we spent there, all the Alpha sisters were extremely composed and genteel, formal without seeming frosty. It seemed as though they had all internalized that kind of solicitous and considerate politeness that seemed to have disappeared from the world centuries ago. I always felt that all the girls I talked to were really interested in me, my hopes and plans, my ideas. And the ideas they volunteered were always interesting, idiosyncratic, thoughtful. Sure, they were a little more conservative then I was used to, but they made compelling cases for a more traditional approach to womanhood that didn't seem to include subservience to men. "There's nothing to be gained by stridency," Pauline, one of the sisters told me. I don't always notice these things, but Pauline was incredible looking, the most beautiful person I had ever seen in the flesh, with that expensive looking skin and the gleaming smile and shiny black hair that was perfectly straight and styled with something close to genius in a braid like I'd never seen before. While I talked to her, something in the way she spoke commanded respect and sympathy but without making her seem cold or fearsome. She was like one of those impossibly well-spoken women in 1930s movies that my mom always made me watch with her on Turner Classic Movies.

In the end, after an extensive interview process and the provision of references and recommendations, Paige and I were both pretty excited to get bids, which we accepted, and the next thing we knew we were part of a pledge class with three other girls, Beth, Monica and Eva. For the rest of the semester, the five of us would become a we. I wouldn't spend a waking hour without being in their company. By the time things were over, I could finish there thoughts and they mine. There wasn't a secret I had from them, and I knew everything about them too. I knew I could make them cry or laugh with a word. I could make them feel whatever was necessary. They could do the same to me. We were that close. We even knew just how to make one another come, the special places that we liked to be touched, the kinds of words whispered that would make us crazy.

For the first few weeks of pledging, we came to the house only to clean it, or perform tasks of drudgery, like peeling potatoes or folding towels, or sorting and folding the sisters' laundry, hand-washing their delicates. I wouldn't have thought they could go through so much lacy underwear in a week. We were forced to memorize the Alpha creed, which extolled the virtues of the house and the ideals of beauty and respect they represented, along with the five rules of pledging, which we were forced to recite over and over again. If we dropped out any words or misspoke, we would have to start over from the beginning, at first. Later the spankings were introduced.

Mostly though, we got to know each other. I already knew Paige, of course. We met upon moving into the dorms, and quickly became close. She had shortish blonde hair and sharp features, well-defined cheek bones, a sort of Nordic look. She was from Minnesota and spoke earnestly, always, with a semi-Canadian accent that I found delightful to hear. We bonded immediately over books, of all things, because we were both reading the same sorts of things from the 19th century, stuff like The Woman in White and Lady Audley's Secret. She had a great deadpan sense of humor, a tremendous way with understatement.

We started eating all our meals together, and then soon we were just doing everything together, catching each other up on what we were like in high school and all we'd done. I was surprised to hear that she had had sex before. She told me all about it, of course, one night when we were alone in the dark in our dorm room, when we stayed up late after getting ice cream at the commons. It was with a boy she had been with for a year, and it happened just after she graduated, after her 18th birthday. His name was Kirk, and she described him as a tall, blond boy who played soccer and had long hair and listened to hippie-jam-band music. Not my kind of guy, frankly, but that didn't matter. Kirk had taken her to see a play in St. Paul and afterward he took her back to his parents' house; they were away for the weekend.

"I had kissed and fooled around with him before," Paige told me, "but I just knew this was going to be different. We didn't exactly talk about it. He didn't give me a birthday card with a condom in it or anything, but there were hints. And I felt ready. I was sick of having him drop me off when I was still all turned on, after he had been playing with my breasts and putting his fingers inside me, stuff like that. It felt so good, but he had no idea what he should have been doing, and I always had to, you know, take care of myself when I got to my room."

"You would masturbate?" I asked.

"Would I? Does the pope shit in the woods?" she replied. "Don't you? If you tell me you don't, I'm not going to believe you." I didn't say anything, but I was actually playing with myself a little bit under the covers. All our talk about sex was making me wet and excited, and I was stroking my public hair softly and quietly, giving my clit a tickle now and then as Paige's voice drifted over to me.

"Anyway," Paige continued, "I thought that if we did it, I wouldn't be left with that feeling of being unsatisfied, you know?"

"Tell me more about how you guys would fool around," I asked.

"It was typical stuff, I guess. We would kiss and then we'd press up against each other, squeezing each other as tight as we could, and then we would be pressing and rubbing against each other, and I would feel how hard I was making him. That would go on for a while, until I was so wet I couldn't stand it anymore. Kirk's sort of shy and I always was the one who had to move things forward. I'd pull away a bit so I could start to unbutton his shirt, and he'd get the idea, and he'd start trying to get his hands under mine. That felt great; it would be such a relief when he would finally get my bra off and start to fondle my breasts. My nipples got hard right away in response to his touch, and he would be so gentle with them, not like other boys I'd been with."

"I like it when my nipples get squeezed," I said. It's what I was doing to myself under the covers, underneath my night shirt. My nipples had gotten hard just from the sound of her voice, and imagining Kirk opening her bra to reveal Paige's breasts, which were pretty big, much bigger than mine. She might have been a D cup even. I had this image of her smiling serenely, holding her big heavy breasts up with cupped palms while a boy leaned in to suck the nipples, which were long stubs that cried out to be tweaked.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not when I'm really turned on," I said. Like I was now.

"I like it when the boy's real gentle, when he licks and sucks on my nipples a bit and then pulls away and just sort of blows on them. Usually I don't like them to be touched really, except with a mouth. But you can't have everything you want. I'll use a feather on my breasts sometimes when I'm playing with myself; I used to pluck them from my mom's feather duster. I'd pretend it was a boy's tongue. Or tongues, if I was working on both nipples at the same time. I'd have the most elaborate fantasies about all these guys from my social studies class getting on me at the same time."

"Social studies," I said. "That's kinky."

"I know, but nothing compared to earth sciences. Anyway Kirk was totally gentle. I really wanted to see his cock. I knew I was going to ultimately take it out of his pants for him, but I rubbed on his bulge for a while, reveling in how wound up this seemed to make him. He was all writhing on the couch, bucking and straining for more contact. He was surprisingly flexible." As I fingered the lips of my pussy, I was trying to imagine Kirk, and that comment made me see a gymnast, one of those vaguely Eastern European guys, in a leotard, with a bulging package there between thick, muscular thighs. I touched my clit, which was budding out and becoming engorged, and thought of Kirk thrusting his bulge out.

Paige continued, "I finally wrestled his zipper down, and unfastened his belt and everything, and then just like that, like a jack-in-the-box or something, was his cock, lolling around like a drunken limb. It wasn't long so much as it was fat, more like a manhole cover than a trouser snake. I wouldn't have thought it would look like that, and I just kind of stoked it, amazed by it, trying to decide exactly what I thought about it. Kirk started to moan and say, Yeah, stuff like that. And that was a turn-on. I was wishing he would say more, so I asked him how it felt, and he said, Good, and I said No, tell me what it feels like.

"So he says, 'It makes me wish I was harder. It makes me want to stick it in you. It makes me think how good it's gonna feel when you put your lips on it. You're gonna suck it right?' I squealed with approval, and to be honest hearing him talk made me much more wet and ready. I started telling him how I felt, which to be honest made me the hottest of all. I said how fucking wet my pussy was, and how it was aching and yearning for his throbbing cock and of course I was going to suck him, I was going to suck him and then I was going to make him beg for more, and then I was going to make him lick my hole and fuck me with his tongue. You know, dirty talk."

"Wow," is all I could manage to say. Her talk was making me really turned on, too, making me want to fuck her with my tongue. I licked my lips and kept strumming my clit, hoping she couldn't hear what I was doing, and hoping she wouldn't stop.

"Adele, are you okay?" Paige asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," she said. "It's okay." I knew she understood what was happening, and what's more she didn't mind. "I'm right there with you," she said. "So I was talking my talk, getting us both all fired up, and slowly our clothes were coming off. I felt a little weird getting naked in front of him, I felt all pale and shivery. But I could see in his eyes how excited he was. 'I'm a dirty girl, aren't I," I said. I didn't want him to think I was embarrassed. 'You like my body? You want to touch me all over? I want your hands all over me 'cause I love being dirty. I want to be your filthy little whore. Would you like that, huh? Me being your dirty little fuck whore?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, uncontrollably, and then I gasped, realizing I said it aloud. But my body was getting out of control now, waves of pleasure were emanating from my clit up through my entire body and everything felt flush and tingly. I was thrusting fingers into my sopping pussy with one hand, while stroking my clit with the other, shinnying a little under the covers so my hard nipples would slide back and forth against the wool blanket I had tucked against my breasts.

"He didn't know what to say, I think, he just kept going, yeah, that's right, yeah. He wasn't ever Mr. Articulate or anything, but that was fine. I was pulling on his cock, trying to make it get bigger and bigger, saying, yes, this is going to be inside me, this thing is going to fill me up." The springs on my bed began to creak, but they weren't alone. I realized Paige's bed was creaking a bit too. I looked over at her and there she was with her eyes closed, uncovered, naked to the darkness, her panties down around one ankle, and her palm grooving against her mound of public hair, which I could see glistening with wetness in the moonlight filtering in through the window. I had no idea she was touching herself too. This kicked me into overdrive, just watching her beautiful breasts start trembling with her motions, and watching the expression of concentration on her face.

Paige opened her eyes and saw me looking. "It's okay," she said, breathlessly, "It feels good, right? I've got nothing to hide from you. Like I was telling Kirk, I'm a dirty girl, and I love my pussy and I don't care who knows it. I told him to get a condom out, that I wanted to feel him inside me. He was clumsy getting it on, and I waited for him to stick it in me, all hot and ready but nervous too, twisted up inside a little bit in my stomach. I didn't know if it would hurt.

"Then he slipped it in, slow and easy like you'd want and it hurt for a second, but then it was warm white light inside my head, and I just closed my eyes and let my body be taken over by his rhythm." Paige sounded as though she were panting a bit, trying to catch her breath to keep talking. I was rubbing my clit and pulling hard on my tit, thinking of Kirk's big fat cock going into that sweet pussy I saw Paige playing with. I saw her getting split open and gasping, legs thrown back behind her head, her big boobs bouncing.

"In and out it went, his big cock, and I could it feel it throbbing the whole time and it sent shivers through me. I starting saying, "Yeah, fuck me, Kirk. Fuck me with that big cock, Kirk. Big cock Kirk, big cock Kirk. Big cock Kirk. It was like my mantra all of a sudden and saying it over and over was bringing me closer to bliss, to letting that white light consume me, you know what I mean." My fingers from one hand were working furiously on my clit now, and with my other hand I was stroking the tips of my nipples with the blanket, making them even more erect and hot with friction, a sweet pain that gave me cold shivers. My stomach felt weightless, as if I had just crested a hill. I looked over at Paige and she was fingering herself with all four fingers, sliding them in and out of her pussy while she arched her torso up in the air.

"Big cock Kirk, big cock Kirk," she kept muttering as she touched herself, and her big bouncy breasts, the long nipples pointing up to the sky just like mine, and her pussy all wet and sopping like mine, and then she turned to look at me, and we both started to giggle uncontrollably as we touched and caressed and played and then all of a sudden, looking in her eyes and her smile, I started to explode, gasping "I'm coming, my God, Paige, my God!"

She sucked in breath real quick and started to gyrate, the bedsprings squeaking, "Me too, Adele, like a fucking freight train. Fucking freight train!" Her hips jerked in the air, and I shut my eyes, lost in bliss.

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