Big City Girl Ch. 02

The such knowing fingers of two girls' hands were as good as the best cock! When my pussy and hips went wild, she forgot to suck, but her fingers continued to jerk in my contracting pussy, making even wetter, slobbering sounds, as I came with as good an orgasm as I could remember.

Our fingers stilled for a few moments, while I gasped and sighed with moans, feeling my pussy still contracting on her fingers. Then they slipped out, and she began to turn around over me, her legs moving around and straddling me. I felt a drop of her pussy juice between my breasts, and then her pussy was over my face, and her face was between my thighs. Did she think I - my pussy - could want more? She did, at least, she wanted to lick and taste it, and she wanted me to lick and taste hers. I did want to and grasped the cheeks of her ass, wishing I could see her pussy better in the shadow between her thighs before it was on my mouth.

I licked, and she moaned, but she hadn't licked. Was she looking at mine in the better light? How many pussies had she seen? Was mine as attractive as the others'? Hers was so wet and tasting so good. She moaned again, and then her face was down between my thighs, and her tongue was lapping down between my pussy lips. Yes! My pussy could want more, it did! She must have known that from her experience with other girls, but I could only give her her first orgasm.

For a moment, I was a little shocked at how much I liked to lick and taste her pussy; that wasn't natural for a girl. Or was it?! It was so good! And what she was doing was being so good! My thighs drew up and flopped open, and her knees slid apart, letting me draw her hips down, so that I didn't have to hold my head up, her pussy down on my mouth, her pelvis rocking a little, rubbing her aroused clitoris on my tongue. Her hands were grasping the cheeks of my ass, clutching my pussy to her face, to her so eagerly licking tongue.

Mine was just as eager, wanting to give her wet pussy an orgasm, wanting to feel her pussy give me even more to taste. Were we racing to satisfy each other, both of us moaning as our tongues licked? I had to gasp and felt my thighs quivering. Was she going to win? That would be unfair, my getting a second orgasm before she had her first one. I tried to ignore my increasing arousal, tried to control my pending orgasm by concentrating on what I was doing. Good, she also gasped, forgetting to lick for a moment, but then she did again. Could she do it better than I could?

Fuck! My thighs were flapping, my toes curling! I could only gasp and moan and let it happen. My hips began to twitching in the grasp of her spread fingers - not just twitch! They were rising off the bed, as though trying to meet the thrusts of a cock in my pussy! The frame under the thin mattress was squeaking. Fuck! I was coming! My body spasmed, and my head jerked up, as I gasped again and again. She stopped licking, and all the tension went out of my body, my thighs flopping down, but I could feel that my pussy was still contracting. Then she licked again, and an aftershock shook me.

For a few moments, she let me recover, long enough for me remember again that it was unfair for me to have had a second orgasm before her first one. Her hips had risen up off my face. I raised my head and began to lick again. She moaned and then sat up, letting me continue without having to hold my head up.

"Yeah, now me," she demanded softly and ground her pussy on my mouth. I could only hope that she could enjoy it better now without the distraction of licking my pussy. Her moans sounded like maybe she could. Then her hands were on my breasts, grasping them, as though she needed something to hold onto, while her pelvis twitched. I reached up and found hers, and she responded with moaned "uhn-hnnn!"

My fingers knew how to arouse nipples - only mine till now - now with both my hands. I hadn't done that to both mine since I first discovered that it felt good, before I discovered that it felt even better with one hand on my pussy. Back then, my fingers had only tickled them, delighting at how they had stiffened, delightful enough, I had thought. Now they knew that nipples could stand almost painful pinching, pulling, twisting, that they wanted that, especially when my other hand was rubbing my pussy. Hester's nipples also wanted that; she moaned and pinched mine. I was pleased that I could also arouse her with my hands, but also remembered that I wanted to suck and lick her nipples. Another time; now I was licking her pussy.

If I couldn't as good as she had, it was still being very good for her, perhaps because my fingers were helping. She was moaning, and her hips were twitching, and her pussy juice was seeping down on my nose, making it difficult for me to breath, having to snort it out of my nostrils to take another breath, but then enjoying that I could taste it.

She had her orgasm, I gave it to her, almost drowning in the flush of her pussy juice. She almost tore my hands off her breasts and collapsed back down over me. After two or three gasps and deep moans, she moved from her crouched position, moving down the bed and off me, extending her legs. We rolled together, embracing each other's legs, and both sighed with moans. I licked my lips with my tired tongue.

It must have been a couple minutes before she slid her hand up my thigh and rubbed my ass, and then murmured:

"I'm so glad you like to, too. It's so good."

"It sure is, just unfair that I had it twice."

"Hm-umm, you deserved it, and I enjoyed it both ways. Hm-hmm! And you deserve to catch up a little, since I've been doing it for a couple of years."

"If you think so," I agreed, pleased with her logic, and also rubbed her ass.

She rubbed mine again and after a moment asked:

"Sleep here, or in our beds?"

"Here," I replied immediately, only then wondering if I was suggesting that we always sleep together.

"Um-hmm. Have to change the sheet before Bob spends the night again," she replied, sounding like she was assuming that we would, and reminding me that I also liked sex with a man. Had I forgotten? She slapped my ass gently and said: "Peepee."

We got up and smiled a little wryly at each other, smirking slightly, and went to the bathroom. We both got the covers off our beds and turned off the light, spreading them over us. When she turned away from me, I curled up behind her and put my arm around her. She nodded, but when I held her breast, she murmured:

"Be careful; they still hurt a little, didn't while you were pinching them."

"Sorry, seemed like they wanted me to."

"They did. Good night."

"You too."

It was still quite early, but we fell asleep. When I rolled over in the night, half asleep, I had forgotten that I was in bed with anyone and dozed off again, but then someone moved behind me. I assumed it was man, half a sleep, then remembering that he must be Bob. Then a soft hand slid over my side, and I realized that it must be Hester's, suddenly recalling why we were in bed together and how we got there. Her hand found my breast, and she rolled a little closer. When she didn't say anything, it occurred to me that sleeping with another girl could be for her so familiar that she did that without really waking up.

I was very awake, however, not minding that she was holding my breast - I sure hadn't, when we got in bed together or when she was sitting on my face, wanting me to give her an orgasm with my tongue. I had, and had wanted to, but did I like sex with her - with a girl - as much as I did with a man? It sure seemed like it, I had to admit to myself, then rationalized that sex is sex, equally good with whomever - if it was really good, and it had been. Of course, I liked Hester a little differently now than I had anticipated, but it wasn't "love", and I didn't really "love" Bob. Sex with a man just let that word seem more appropriate. I drifted off to sleep wondering if all "Big City Girls" had my new attitude.

Hester's hand and arm had disappeared when I woke up, opening my eyes and seeing that it was much too early to have to get up. How had she rolled over again without my noticing? She hadn't just rolled over, she had moved back closer to me; I now recognized that her ass were touching mine. That was nice, that we were still touching each other, if that was how she liked to sleep with other girls. I did too, now.

Was I supposed to - did she expect me to - also roll over again and hold her breast? It had felt good in my hand - in both my hands, when I was licking her pussy and arousing her nipples. Were they still sore? She could tell me; I was beginning to like the idea of feeling my hand's holding one again, I didn't have to pinch it's nipple again - unless she wanted me to. Besides, rolling over and holding it would be a nice way to show that I really liked that we had fallen to sleep that way and everything we had done before we did.

I moved away from her and rolled over and slid my hand over her side, discovering that it was going to have to slip under her arm to find her breast. She couldn't mind if that awakened her. On the contrary, when my hand did, she moved her arm to let it, and then murmured:

"Nice. Good morning."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, as my fingers slipped around her warm breast. It fit so nicely in my hand, felt so good in it. I asked:

"Already awake?"

"Not really, but I like that you are already - and like this."

Her hand slid over mine and gently squeezed my fingers to her breast. Her legs straightened out, touching my knees, and then drew up again. Yes, we both wanted more body contact. I drew my thighs up behind hers, and she moved her hips back against me, squeezing my hand again. Then she chuckled softly and said:

"If you were a man, I'd probably feel something else."

"Um-hmm, but I'm not."

"Just a remark; I wasn't suggesting that I wished you were."

She rocked her hips back against me, and then her fingers encouraged mine to find her nipple. Apparently she thought we could do more - again? If she wanted to. I gently fondled her nipple. It thought so too, stiffening, and she moaned very softly. I murmured:

"I wasn't wishing I was either. It's not sore any more."

"Mmmm, not unless you want to make it sore again."

"Not this way," I replied, flipping a finger over it.

"I was hoping not."

She rolled back against me and drew my hand down on her other breast. When I moved back to let her lie on her back, her near breast was going to free for my mouth to suck and lick. I did, it was, after she got her arm out of the way and behind my head. It didn't need to encourage me to lean over her and find it with my mouth, but it did, and I liked that it had.

She had been right that sucking, licking, nibbling another girl's breast was almost as good as feeling that being done to my own. In response to her moan, I moaned. She also didn't have to encourage my hand to slide down to her pussy. It would have, but not as soon as her hand was drawing it down there, her fingers guiding mine down between her open thighs, which drew up, turning her pelvis up under my hand, my fingers on her pussy lips. I had wanted this, wanted to feel her pussy with my fingers, wanted to feel them in it. I just hadn't expected that she would want them to so soon.

I sucked and nibbled, delighted that she moaned, and let her fingers show mine what she wanted them to do. My thighs clutched together; my pussy knew what it would like fingers to do. Her fingers knew what hers wanted mine to do. I moaned, when they wanted mine between her pussy lips, then her whole hand was urging mine to slide down further.

My fingertips felt her opening and that it was moist. They didn't need any more encouragement. When they probed, she moaned, and I did. Her hand on mine let it slide further, and my fingers - yes, two at once! - slipped into her wet, warm pussy. We both moaned again.

Of course, it felt for my fingers like when they were in my pussy, but it was differently arousing to feel them in hers, and that I could thrust them deeper in hers and wiggle and twist them more than I could in my own pussy. Hester moaned, and for a few moments her fingers were on the back of my knuckles urging my fingers to do what they were. Then her hand slid off mine and wanted to get under it. I raised it and tried to shove my fingers even a little deeper in her pussy, as I felt her fingers' finding where they wanted to rub. Yes, she wanted to help arouse herself just like we had aroused me.

It was strange to have my fingers in a pussy without feeling them in mine. Not just strange, it was frustrating. The sensations my fingers were enjoying were so familiar, but I had never realized how I enjoyed them, but now I did. I had always been more enjoying the arousing sensations they were giving my pussy, but now they weren't.

I concentrated on enjoying how good it felt for my fingers to be in Hester's pussy and on how they could arouse her, and how her pussy responded, more conscious of its contractions on my fingers than I had been, when I was arousing myself. I moaned with her, feeling her fingers under my hand rubbing as fast as they could. Her pussy was so slippery wet. When I finger-fucked myself, it didn't sound like what I was doing in her pussy.

I moaned, not just in empathy with her moans, also because I was enjoying so much having my fingers in another girl's pussy and feeling how aroused it was. Her hips were twitching - like they had on my face. I wanted her orgasm as much as she did. She gasped and exclaimed: "Oh fuck! Fuck!"

My fingers did. She gasped and said that again, and then gasped again, and suddenly my palm was full of warm pussy juice. I thought her fingers would stop rubbing, but they didn't, so mine also continued to move, and then her pussy flooded my hand again, as she gasped and moaned. Hers and then my fingers held still, and her hips relaxed. She gasped again and then sighed with a long moan, but her pussy was still contracting. Unconsciously, I moved my fingers in response. She gave a sharp, startled "Uhn!"

I thought she would grab my hand, but she didn't. She gasped again, and I felt her fingers move under my hand, just slowly, but they were still where they had been, moving on her clitoris. If they wanted to, mine did too. She gave another short moan. It sounded just surprised, not startled, and her fingers continued to move, so mine also did. Then she snorted and asked:

"You want me to again?"

"If you want to?" I replied automatically.

I was a little surprised by her question. In response to mine, she chuckled in her throat, and her fingers moved faster. She did! My fingers immediately made more wet noises again, and then her hips began to twitch again. She was gasping, and we both were moaning.

My pussy couldn't be as wet as hers was, but it felt wetter than it ever had been without its being fucked or fingered. Worse, I also realized that I had to go to the bathroom. She had to come again, before I wet the bed!

She did, filling my palm again with her warm pussy juice and, of course, with her more aroused gasps and moans. Relief for her, but not yet for me. When her fingers stopped moving, I pulled mine out and murmured: "Got to go."

I sat up. As I was standing up, I licked my hand and fingers, more in a reflex at feeling her pussy juice about to drip. It didn't, but some ran down my forearm, and then I was rushing to the toilet. My strong and long flow had finished, when she joined me. Before I could stand up, she stepped in the shower and let hers flow. She turned her head and said with an apologetic expression:

"I did too. God, but that was good."

"It sure must have been. I wanted it to be."

"It was, thanks."

She closed the shower curtain and began her shower. I just sat there, pleased that I had been able to more than return the orgasm she had given me the evening before, then wondering if we were going to do it every night. Did I want to? What we had done - evening and morning - was more than with any man. No, Bob and I had done as much, but did Hester expect that we would every day? We would be having more sex together than I had ever imagined - and with another girl! Is that what happened at Sarah Lawrence, when roommates slept with each other? Were they over-sexed, if they did, or was I under-sexed, because it had never occurred to me want an orgasm every night, much less, three or four. Sometimes I had done it twice, but not like now with Hester, and sometimes I had gotten off a few nights in a row - and been chagrined at my debauchery. And now, was this how a Big City Girl was?

I was still sitting on the toilet, when Hester opened the shower curtain, apparently surprised to see that I was. I flung her her towel, without having to stand up. She nodded her thanks with a smile, and began to dry herself. We had never been quite like this together in the bathroom, sure, naked, but not so obviously looking at each other. Was it my thought about that, or her looking at me, that made my nipples tighten? She smiled. She was drying her breasts, but then smirked slightly and made a point of rubbing the towel with her fingers on hers. Then one of her hands slide down and dried her pussy.

"We don't have to do it every night. We didn't in college either," she remarked, reminding me that she pronounced "either" differently that I did.

That was sort of an answer to my thoughts, but I heard myself replying:

"And if we want to?" then feeling that my cheeks were flushing.

Why had I said that? I had just told myself that I didn't need sex every night. Hester snorted and then smirked and said:

"If you want to, have to say 'pretty please'."

We both chuckled, grinning. I replied: "Or you do."

She grinned, drying her ass, and suggested:

"Pretty pussy, please."

I nodded, then shook my head, and we snickered, almost laughing. I took my shower and hurried to get dressed, since we were behind schedule for breakfast and going to work. We parted with smirks.

That evening, I was surprised that Hester was already back in the flat, then remembering that we hadn't folded up the sofabed, seeing that it now was. Okay, we didn't have to do it every night, didn't need the open bed in the living room suggesting that we did.

That was Tuesday, and Wednesday the sofa remained just a sofa, but Thursday evening, one of us mentioned that something was pretty. We both chuckled at hearing the word, then smirking at each other. Then one of murmured: "Yours or mine?"

I can't remember which of us said that, since either of us could have, as both of us did so often after that. One would say "pretty," and the other one would say "yours or mine."

Like that first time, it didn't matter, the sofabed was opened up, and we were soon naked and with our faces between the other's thighs. "Yours or mine" didn't matter; we both want to see and lick a pretty pussy. We almost always did Thursday nights, even if we had more than once after our Saturday dates with Bob and Jim. We never did Fridays, agreeing to save it for Saturday and Sunday morning with them.

That first Saturday morning, Hester reminded me to put a fresh sheet on the sofabed. That evening, as we were getting ready to meet them, humming and smirking, she asked me what I thought Bob and I were going to do.

I remembered what he and I had done Sunday morning, also that Hester had been surprised that I like to suck his cock. She knew all about girls, and now I did, but I could surprise her again. I smirked and grinned and replied:

"If he lets me, I want to suck his cock, and then crawl up and sit on his face, like we did Sunday morning, and then he'd better want to fuck me as good as he did then."

She had asked, and after all we had done together, I figured I could be explicit. She was too, but surprised: "You want to suck his cock first?"