The Stronger Girl 01

She stared, mouth suddenly dry, but her hands never stopped massaging Michele's leg. Climbing and retreating, her hands rubbed and soothed the muscles of Michele's thigh while Annie tried to gather her scattered wits.

As she stared at Michele's naked ass she remembered hovering over the small of Michele's back earlier, looking at those red shorts, her paralysis, and her enormous regret as she slowly pulled herself upwards and stepped off the bed. Her shame when Michele refused to look her in the eye.

'She knew,' Annie thought.

Her hands continued to massage but her mouth grew wet and her belly warm as she stared at the powerful womanly muscles of Michele's bare ass. Again her hands worked up Michele's thigh, as they neared her ass Annie felt light-headed again, her mouth now flooding with saliva and her breath so short and shallow she could hardly breathe at all.

Releasing her hold on Michele's leg, Annie leaned forward, placing her hands on either side of Michele's bare hips. Letting her head droop, she bent her elbows, until she knew Michele would be able to feel her breath on the small of her back.

Everything went still. In the darkness, Annie waited, her face was close enough that she felt the heat rising off Michele's skin. Her breath, shallow and ragged, out and in and slowly out again. She felt Michele move. It was a minute give, hardly a movement at all, but Annie's whole attention was focused on it. She sensed the change, as much by the shift in temperature against her face, as by the compression of the mattress beneath her hands. Michele was arching her back again, rolling her ass upwards, ever so slightly spreading her legs.

Placing her weight on her toes Annie lifted her knees off the mattress. Balanced there, on all fours above Michele's beautiful bare backside. She felt like she was made of sticks as she climbed off Michele's right leg, and carefully settled back down over her left leg. She took a deep breath through her nose as she settled back onto her haunches, felt the crack of her ass nestling on Michele's heel. She blushed crimson, certain the stronger girl could feel the feverish heat and dampness of her panties. Pushing past her embarrassment she began caressing the back of Michele's other calf. Barely pressing in with her thumbs, Annie wrapped her fingers as far around the muscle as they could reach. She stroked upwards then retreated. Squeezing harder as she moved down the leg then up, in an effort to slow herself; to stop herself from rushing back up. Only when her hands had reached Michele's Achilles tendon, her wrists pressing against the damp gusset of her panties, would she allow herself to begin the slow caress upwards again.

As she worked upwards, Annie watched the small movements of Michele's ribs as she drew breath, the curve of her back upwards to her full round ass. Annie had always been self-conscious of her own butt. It wasn't big or wide, nothing on her was, but it stuck out - it always had. Boys had made fun of her in school, calling her "bubble butt". Her mother had reassured her that it was just that she had such good posture. Looking now at Michele's bubble butt, the way it rose up from the small of her back, heavy and powerful looking at the top of her thighs, Annie shivered. She wondered if her butt looked any fraction as sexy as Michele's.

As she thought this, she found her gaze dropping, dragged downward until she was staring into the darkness between Michele's legs, trying but failing to pull detail from those shadows. She wondered again what Michele wanted - felt a jolt of excitement and fear. Annie wasn't even sure what she wanted herself. That, she supposed, is what had paralyzed her before, she hadn't known what to do. She blushed with shame at the memory.

She wished Michele would tell her what to do. She thought of the way her mother would bark orders at her when she rubbed her neck or massaged her feet.

"Harder Annie!" she'd snap impatiently. "Do it properly. Use your power, but don't dig in, for goodness sakes!"

'She's so assertive,' Annie thought, 'so strict."

Annie wanted to ask Michele what she wanted, beg her for instruction, but she was afraid to disturb the stillness, to break the spell. Still, she wished Michele would move again or make a sound, give her some sign, but she lay so entirely still now, so quiet, almost as if she were hiding.

Again the minutes seemed to stretch on as Annie caressed and massaged the healthy left leg. As before, Annie moved slowly upwards. Whenever her hands reached the top of her stroke she dared herself to let them climb just a bit higher, feeling herself go still each time. In those moments of daring her hands felt weightless. And while Michele's stillness was at first disquieting, the absoluteness of it began to embolden Annie. She was holding so still, keeping so quiet, Annie decided, the stillness was itself an action. That Michele might as well have been writhing.

As she thought this, she felt her index finger brush against Michele's sex.

Annie froze. Expecting a gasp, or for Michele to jerk away, but nothing. The only sound was a fabric scrape. Michele's fists were twisting the linen of her pillow as she pressed her face deeper into the cushion.

Annie looked at the girl spread out in front of her and made a decision. She shifted her left hand off the outside of Michele's thigh and onto the mattress, letting it take her weight. Leaning forward on it she slowly stroked upwards with her right hand. It was just a feather's touch, but as her hand rose some liminal barrier was breached and Michele slicked the edge of Annie's finger. Annie felt something give way in herself as well.

Hovering over Michele earlier, looking down at the red of her running shorts, Annie had frozen. Holding her breath, she had wondered what she should do; had hoped for insight or courage. Rather than a revelation or daring, however, she'd heard her mother bark "ANNIE!" in disapproval - as clear as if she had been in the room. She had quickly climbed off Michele's leg and retreated to her desk in shame. But now she felt shame give way like something liquid, felt it drain away; replaced by a kind of thirst.

She stroked down now, turning her hand as she did, the narrow confines of Michele's thighs made it hard. Her fingers reached though, pushing like roots towards Michele's belly, and again Annie felt a shock of surprise. Her pussy was as perfectly smooth and hairless as her legs. Annie's own bush was a small tangle, thin and fair, but the hair was long. She hated it, but had never dared trim it - had never even thought of shaving it; the idea seemed so brazen and lewd, so aggressively sexual. Unapologetic.

As her fingertips explored the smooth flesh, she wondered at Michele's hairless perfection. For a moment Annie was lost in admiration, before shocking herself, as a thin line of drool poured from her lower lip onto the cheek of the stronger girl's ass.

She watched in horror as the spittle ran into the crack of Michele's ass and dripped onto the wrist of her probing hand. She held her breath, expecting the stronger girl to leap up, or yell at her gross loss of control 'ANNIE!'. Silence. Not even the scrape of bunching linen.

Annie took a deep shaky breath. Her fingers, as if attached to someone else's hand, spread, exploring the smooth cool skin. They curled back, dragging her nails softly across the bald soft flesh. Nothing.

A part of Annie wanted to insist that Michele let go of her pillow, demand that she show her her face, look her in the eye. But it was a small part. A much larger, much guiltier part of Annie's mind luxuriated in the silence, in the anonymity of darkness. She could almost pretend she was alone in what she was about to do.

Dropping to her elbow, she shifted to the side and lowered her face until her cheek was pressed against the bare skin at the small of Michele's back - almost as if she were trying to listen for what her hidden hand was doing wedged between Michele's thighs. Annie's middle finger found its way back to Michele's wet slit and began making tiny strokes. Like a synecdoche, the tip of her finger was for a moment her whole self.

Her left hand moved around and slid underneath Michele's belly from the side. Annie wondered at the feel of it. In contrast to her own pale doughy stomach, Michele's abs felt hard and flat and as perfectly taught as the rest of her.

'Tight in her skin' Annie thought.

Forcing itself between the mattress and Michele's dead weight, Annie's hand slid upward until finding her breast. Feeling it overflow her hand she was again struck by how much smaller she was than Michele in every way; how much less womanly. Annie's left hand squeezed as the fingertip of her right hand found and began to gently pet Michele's hooded clitoris.

Annie, from her perch against Michele's back, felt and then watched with satisfaction as, finally, the mountain came to Mohamed. Annie's head dropped a tiny fraction as Michele tightened her belly and began to arch her back. Rolling her ass upwards, and doing so with geologic slowness. The stronger girl dragged her knees forward, spreading them apart as she did. After holding still for so long, she shamelessly presented.

Lifting her cheek away from Michele's back, and not thinking why she did it, Annie paused to lick the beautiful cleavage of Michele's tailbone with the flat of her tongue. She was rewarded with an electric jerk of the stronger girl's arms as they hugged her pillow tighter.

Supporting her weight on her elbow, Annie let go of Michele's breast and let her left hand travel across her belly to her bald mons - again struck by the sexual bravada of the denuded flesh. At the same time, Annie wondered at her own audacity, as her right hand, now freed from the clamp of Michele's thighs, retreated - ceding the territory of Michele's pearl to her left hand - and traveled back towards the heat of Michele's upturned backside.

As her hand stroked upwards, her index finger pushed inward, slipping easily into the wet tight embrace of Michele's vagina. Her finger worked slowly in and out, stroking the upper wall of the channel while the fingers of her left hand freed her clitoris from its hood, and began to gently circle it. It was much larger than Annie's little pearl.

While Annie didn't feel she had much sexual experience, she wasn't a total stranger to masturbation, and had given a few hand jobs - 'four' she thought, 'three to completion,' she thought guiltily, remembering the begging and cajoling, remembering her fear. What she was doing now however was so unlike what she did to herself - much less the mechanical pumping she had done for those boys - that she found herself imagining her hands as wild birds, surprising her with their every movement.

Annie's heard Michele's muffled moans as her finger began to fuck her with more force. Michele's pajama top was spread open and gathered now up around her shoulders, exposing the whole of her beautiful strong back. Annie could just see the globe of her large round breast moving against the mattress to the rhythm of her small hands.

Michele's forehead was still pressed downward, but Annie could see her face. Her eyes squeezed shut, her lips open, but her teeth clenched, biting the corner of her pillow. She looked so beautiful with her thick hair tangled and fanned out in front of her Annie wanted to scream.

Again Annie felt pride, like a hero. But she also felt powerful, her tiny fingers moving the stronger girl, like Superman holding a car over his head. Her left hand's middle finger joined the index and together they moved in and out of Michele and began moving faster, with greater urgency. The fingers of her left hand meanwhile moved frantically over the slickness of Michele's rigid clitoris. Annie's muscles strained with the effort, but as the strength of her hands reduced Michele to abject jerking spasms of pleasure.

"MmmmmnGOD!" Michele moaned.

Hearing her, Annie's body tensed and began to shake.

After being turned on for so long Annie hadn't recognized the orgasm building against the background of her heightened excitement. As it burst above the noise of her pleasure her neck craned, her face turned upwards, she bared her teeth and cried out as her hips thrust forward, crashing against the side of Michele's hip as an orgasm ripped through her.

Annie watched the girls talking as if from a distance. She laughed along with them, but made no move to insert herself further than that into the hectic back and forth. Jill and Rachael were tall lanky members of the Cross Country Club with Michele, and Nancy, whose room was next door to theirs, was a pretty Korean girl from Chicago - not much bigger than Annie.

The five of them had been drinking, smoking pot, listening to mixtapes, and trading stories for a couple of hours. Jill, who Annie thought was nice but had a sour expression, was sitting with Michele on her bed, Nancy was sitting with Rachael, who had a round friendly face, beautiful thick lips, and curly auburn hair, on Annie's bed. And Annie sat in her desk chair, turned around to face the group (which she did after abandoning her studies as hopeless as soon as the impromptu Friday night party had stormed the room). She had tried nursing the rum and coke politely, but the other girls weren't having it, they kept pressing her with refills until she gave in and let go. And while she had been careful to take only small puffs off the little hand-blown glass pipe, defending herself (truthfully) as a lightweight when teased by the other girls, she was more than a little buzzed.

She observed Michele while trying not to seem like she was. Earlier Michele had told the story of coming back to the dorm on Wednesday after the trail run with the club, her legs cramping on the stairs, and how Annie had saved her by massaging her legs. Annie had smiled and clasped her hands together over her head, shaking them like a champ as the other girls cheered and toasted her heroics and Michele laughed.

'All very chummy,' Annie thought.

The truth, however, was that it had been a strained and terrible couple of days for the two of them. Michele had woken up early the day before, was fully dressed, and bustling around the room quietly when Annie began to wake up. She had watched with hooded eyes, touching her lips and tongue with her fingertips, as Michele put the last of her books and papers in her bag, grabbed an apple from the tray of food Annie had brought her the night before, and slipped quietly out the door.

The next time she saw Michele, she was sitting with a big group at dinner in the cafeteria, but Michele hadn't seen her. Annie had taken her tray out to one of the tables on the balcony. Besides a couple of boys, who were getting high, the area was empty because of the chill. She sat far away from the boys, and they left her alone to eat in peace.

Michele hadn't come back to the room until late that night. Annie was already in bed with the lights off and had pretended to be asleep. She had been facing the wall but listened as Michele undressed, closed the shades, and climbed quietly into bed. For a long time, Annie lay in the dark listening. After a while, she began to cry. She didn't sob or sniffle, but hot tears came freely, making her pillow damp against her face.

When she woke up Michele was asleep facing her. She lay for a time on her side watching her sleep. Thinking of how pretty she was, how much she liked her. She seemed so self-confident, was so socially assertive, but didn't seem at all vain, and had never seen her be rude. Annie felt she was strong in a way that she herself would never be. Annie was very afraid that she had ruined things between them. That they wouldn't be friends after all. She got up, gathered her things, and went down the hall to get cleaned up. When she got back from the shower Michele was gone.

She hadn't seen Michele at all today, not until she came back to the room with the other girls. She was smiling and friendly, but she was also avoiding Annie's eye. Rachael, who was hands down the funniest of their visitors, was now telling a story about a wedding she had been to that summer in Canada, and how her brother had hooked up with one of the bridesmaids. "She licked his asshole!"

"Shut up!" Jill screamed, leaning forward, nearly dumping her drink.

Rachael screamed with laughter at Jill's reaction.

"How do you FUCKING know this?!" Nancy shouted in outrage above the other girls' screams. "Did he fucking TELL you?!?"

Rachael, eyes closed and chin tucked back against her neck in an effort to get control of herself, waved her arms helplessly "NO! nooo. Oh my God... it's so... nooo... SO! MUCH! WORSE!"

Michele was now beside herself. Laughing so hard she was doubled over. Jill was clutching at her arm in mock horror, staring at Rachael, eyes wide. "WORSE?!?" she shouted in disbelief, "How could it be any fucking worse?!?"

Rachael was gasping for breath now, trying to explain, but struggling to stop laughing. "Her room was next to mine" she gasped, her voice sounding like steam escaping from a broken pipe. "The walls were paper thin" Her voice had risen to a squeak and she wiped tears from her eyes - with a curiously dainty gesture Annie thought - "I could fucking hear the zipper of his pants. I... oh God help me... I heard EVERYTHING!"

This sent the group into a fresh round of screaming hysterics. Annie laughed along with the others and listened as Rachael went through all the details of what she overheard. But as she smiled and laughed, she was entirely focused on Michele; studying her from the corner of her eye.

When Rachael had first told what the Canadian bridesmaid had done, Annie had seen Michele go pale, and then a bright red flush climbed her neck and face like a cartoon thermometer, only then had she burst out laughing with the others. And of the group, she had laughed the hardest and the longest. Listening to the details of the encounter (which were endless), Annie studied Michele's reactions as she laughed along and made comments like the others. Her eyes were glassy with excitement, her lips swollen and wet. The high flush never left her cheeks.

The party went on till midnight. Nancy, who had brought the pot, was the last to leave. Annie had joined her on the bed, facing Michele. The three of them smoked a bit more, listening to the music, but not really speaking. After a while, the music stopped and there was a long awkward silence that ended as Nancy mumbled something and made a shaky exit, looking a little unsure on her feet.

They were alone.

Her heart was racing, her breathing so shallow she felt like she was gasping. Annie, who felt a bit unsteady herself, raised herself cautiously from her bed, pausing to check her balance, then crossed over and dropped onto her knees in front of Michele. Without asking, or even daring to look at her, she began carefully pulling off her socks, one at a time. She did it slowly, not like a striptease, but almost as if she were opening a present, or acting out a ritual. Folding them over together, and setting them neatly to one side on the floor, she waited, head bowed, with her heart thundering in her chest.

Her hands on her knees to stop them from shaking, Annie studied Michele's toes. For all that she had handled her feet, she hadn't noticed her pedicure before. Her nails were painted a beautiful coral. Perfect.

She watched those perfect toes as Michele shifted and began scooting forward to stand. Watched as her feet spread ever so slightly under her weight; felt Michele towering over her. Annie waited a beat, feeling the stronger girl's stare bearing down on the back of her head, but still not daring to look. She slowly raised herself until she was standing on her knees, bringing her eyes level with the fly of Michele's jeans, inches from her face.