Discovering My Little Sister Ch. 08

"I'm Jessica and there's no way we're supposed to act, but there are patterns and you don't fit any."

"Well look at me breaking down barriers," I joked. "I thought I was just trolling for pussy."

She laughed. "And how's that worked for you?"

"Terrible, until now," I confessed. "But I've noticed you too, and I'd also really like to get to know you."

With my relaxed demeanor, she asked me what type of science I majored in and we had a normal conversation from there on. We walked back to our building together but I didn't get the inside invite that I was hoping for. Her suite was before mine so I couldn't figure out how to invite her into my room. She did suggest, though, that we meet for lunch, which we set for that Tuesday.

The encounter left me too horny to focus on schoolwork, which I had a lot of. I tried to FaceTime my mom, but she couldn't answer. She was probably having some kind of romp with Polly and possibly someone she brought home to share. I ended up spending most of the day masturbating, well, alternating between masturbating and passing out and reading some of the longer erotica that I had been wanting to get off to. Eventually my mom sent me a picture of Polly taking some woman from behind with a strap-on, which she captioned, "Sorry I can't answer, this married couple can't get enough of our strap-ons."

Seeing Polly taking that woman was hot, but my mom's caption was enough to turn me off. I knew she meant she had probably been pegging the guy, and I was not into that. Besides, I was starving. So I ate and got back to a normal weekend, only masturbating once more that night and twice the next day. What? I take being a slut seriously.

My mom FaceTimed me back Sunday night. I sat down on my bed to answer. "Sorry, baby," she said. "It's been a wild weekend."

"Yeah, why'd you have to tell me you were with a couple? You know I hate hearing about guys."

"I know, but you know that Polly doesn't want me to bring home just women. Makes her feel like she's cheating."

"She's such a priss."

"Don't worry, when you're home next my bed will just be a pile of naked women."

"Now you're talking," I cooed, feeling the arousal come back.

"You like thinking about the dirty things you do on Mommy's bed?"

"So much," I responded in a raspy voice. Normally I would be touching myself by now, but I held off to tell her the big news. "But soon I might get to do those things in my bed," I told her.

"Oh did something naughty happen?" my mom asked.

"I wish. But I met a girl. We had brunch yesterday and we're doing lunch Tuesday."

My mom's demeanor became more motherly and less sexual. "You must really like her then, if you haven't bedded her yet."

"I wanted to, I just didn't know how to make a move." I wanted to tell my mom what was up, but I was also looking to get off.

"You didn't invite her to your room after brunch? I thought I trained you better than to be a tease."

"I'm not a tease, Mommy, I'm just not seductive like you."

"So next time you walk back to the dorm with her, say 'I have a single room if you want to see it,' and she'll get the picture. Don't make her take care of herself, I didn't pay for that single room for you to sleep alone."

We knew that wasn't true, I had applied before any of this started. But I was getting turned on by the way my mom was scolding me. "I'm sorry, Mommy," I said. "I don't mean to waste your money. I've been wearing all the sexy outfits you bought me."

"Mmm, that's good, I bet every lesbo on campus is fantasizing about you."

"Oh my God, Mommy, when you say things like that it makes me want to masturbate."

"Wait till Mommy tells you. Show her what you're wearing first."

I laid back and scanned the phone over my body, showing my white spaghetti strapped top and my pink shorts. "Just the right amount of cleavage," my mom cooed.

"And these shorts ride up my ass, Mommy," I told her.

"Fuck they must be skimpy to show off your tight little ass," my mom breathed. I wondered if she was already touching herself.

"That's why I like to wear them, Mommy."

"And you can only wear thongs with them, I bet."

"No, Mommy, I don't wear underwear with them." I held my phone over my shorts with one hand and peeled them off with the other to show her.

"Oh you're so hot, baby. Mommy's touching herself now."

"Can I touch myself, Mommy?"

"Not yet, baby. Mommy wants to see that big dildo she got you slide into your pussy."

"Yes, Mommy," I said, then kicked off my shorts and rushed to pull my strap-on out of my desk drawer. Then I spread my legs on my bed and held the fat end of the dildo at my entrance with one hand and my phone with the other. "Is this what you like, Mommy? Seeing your daughter fuck herself with a huge, fake cock?" The dildo was probably two and a half inches in diameter - or almost eight inches around - and ten inches long.

"I'd rather see your new little slut friend pounding you with it. Now push it in."

"Oh God, Mommy!" I cried. I was slippery as grease and my pussy was well-accustomed to the large toy, but the release of finally spreading my walls was incredible, as always.

"You're gonna let her fuck you with that all night."

"Yes, Mommy!" I started slowly moving the dildo in and out, keeping my camera on the motions.

"You know she's going to fuck a slut like you a lot harder than that."

"Yes, Mommy!" I sped up my arm.

"Harder. Show Mommy."

I gave a long moan as I started pumping as hard as I could while making sure the cock stayed inside me, went all the way in, and stayed visible to my mom. I could hear my mom panting as she touched herself. "Bet you're lucky enough that she'll let you use it on her," my mom growled.

"Oh God. I hope," I gasped.

"Tell Mommy what you'd do to her."

"She'd ride me so I could see her big tits."

"Yeah, Mommy's baby loves big titties."

"They're so big, Mommy. They flop around even in a sweatshirt. They might be bigger than Joy's."

"Oh that's so hot. We all love sucking Joy's titties."

"Oh Mommy, I'm so close."

"Show Mommy your face when you cum."

I turned the phone and screamed "Mommy!" long and loud as I came. I could see her face contorting as she grunted out a simultaneous orgasm.

"So hot, baby," she said as we finished. I could tell she was still touching herself, though.

"I need to clean this," I said, pulling the dildo to my mouth. I licked my juices off, occasionally sticking the tip in my mouth, all while watching my mom continue to masturbate and have another orgasm at the sight of my talented tongue. I knew she was thinking as much of the sight as of the many times I had licked her to climax.

"You're going to tell me everything you do with this little minx, right?" she asked as we cooled down.

"Every detail," I promised. "I'll even try to get you a picture of her."

"Such a good slut-daughter," my mom said. "Now get some sleep, you hopefully won't be able to this week.

* * *

Lunch with Jessica was nice, though hardly different from a regular lunch with a regular new friend. Typical college student stuff, classes we were taking, what we wanted to do with our majors, nothing exciting. My previous attempts at flirting had gone so poorly, and I was yet to have sex with someone I hadn't known most of my life, so I figured I shouldn't try so hard in our conversation. Nonetheless, I wore a particularly whorish outfit, knowing that sunny days would be behind us soon. I started with a black and white skirt best described as a micro-skirt, then paired that strip of fabric with a white, off-the-shoulder top and black boots that came to my knee. Jessica seemed to try a little harder too. Her hair was still in a bun, but a little higher and more of a Phoebe on Friends this-bun-looks-messy-but-I-tried-really-hard-to-get-it-like-this bun. Instead of her usual PJs with a sweatshirt, she wore light jeans and a dark blue button-down yet casual blouse. I'd never seen her wear anything that acknowledged she had boobs or a butt, and while her ass looked great in her jeans, I was hoping to see a little more cleavage. The shirt was dark enough that were it not for the darts, her breasts would be difficult to distinguish.

We took the same walk back to our building as our last meeting, but this time at her suite's door, I tried a variation of the line my mom had suggested. "You know," I said, "if you want to hang out for a little, I have a single room."

She laughed and answered, "You're not very subtle, are you?"

"I'm just saying we can hang out and have some privacy." I was kind of chickening out; I could have said something a lot sexier and I immediately knew so.

She put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Look, Carly. I like you. I like seeing your legs in that miniskirt and I would love to see your single room. But I also like you the person and things don't end well if you hook up before the third date. But we can call this the second date, and maybe I can take you out Friday night?"

"Yes," I said. Again, I wanted to say something fun and flirty, but nothing was coming to mind. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Alright, I have to finish some homework and get to class," she said as her hand on my shoulder crept over my back and she pulled me in for a hug.

Hugging her was like a release, but not the releases that I talk about when I'm in bed. More like that feeling of throwing down my bag after acing my last final, that feeling that the hard part is over and now I have the whole world ahead of me. Did her breasts feel like the clouds of heaven as they pressed into my chest? Absolutely, but that feeling wasn't what I was paying attention to. There was just something about the intimacy, the knowledge that this girl wanted me and just me and wanted to take me on a real date. I had banged it out like mad with five women, but I had never been on a real date.

"I had fun today," I said as we separated.

"Me too," she smiled and took a very small step toward her door.

"I'll see you Friday," I answered and started to move toward my suite.

She turned turned fully to her door and said, "I'll text you to settle details."

"Thanks, have a good day," I said and walked to my suite.

Once through the suite door, I called my mom. Regular call. She answered as I was opening the door to my room and I said, barely able to contain my excitement, "Mom, I have a date Friday."

"So you are taking it slow with this girl," she said, almost just as excited.

"Oh no, I invited her in, but she said no. Mom, it was like the hottest no ever. She was basically like, 'I want you, but I don't go to bed before the third date, but this is our second date so let's go out Friday.'"

I could tell my mom gave a little laugh. "So you seem pretty happy."

"Yeah, it's like, I've never had a real date, I've never had a girlfriend, and like now someone likes me."

"Do you like her?"

"I mean, yeah, I'm still getting to know her. But she's hot and she's fun and she's nice, so I'm sure I'll be inviting her in again on Friday."

"Are you looking for a relationship? Because it sounds like she is."

"I'd take a relationship with the right person if she let me keep hooking up with my family."

"But you'd give up Joy and Payton?"

"Practically family. And I'm kind of surprised Joy hasn't proposed yet."

My mom laughed but then said, "Don't even joke. Polly's still in high school, and if she gets married before she graduates college, her punishment will not be..." she switched to a whisper, she must have been outside or something, "it will be real punishment and not anal sex."

"If Polly can say no to sex literally every weeknight since she turned eighteen, then she can resist getting married too young."

"True. Maybe I should worry more about you."

"Probably, I'm trouble."

"Speaking of, I've got to run, but FaceTime tonight?"

"Always."

We said our love-yous and hung up. I practically bounced off the walls all afternoon, and squirmed nonstop in my evening class. I remember walking home and thinking to myself that if she had just let me take her to bed, I probably would have felt great but I wouldn't be so excited. But excited I was and excited I stayed. I couldn't help but talk about Jessica to start that evening's FaceTime with my mom, which my mom turned into a fantasy about bringing her into one of our orgies. The next two nights were similar. I had told her about hot girls before and she had made up fantasies, and while bringing the girl to an orgy had come up, typically she would talk about bringing the girl into a three-way with just me and her.

The weather was getting pretty cool by Friday, which made my decision about what to wear to see Jessica that much harder. I eventually settled on a short black skirt with low-cut red blouse, then black nylons - with garters, never pantyhose for me - to make the outfit winter appropriate. My biggest debate was ankle boots, which went with the outfit, or strappy stilettos, which were hot. I went with the latter. My mom's Louboutins would have gone best with the outfit, but I couldn't exactly borrow them. I wore my peacoat for the first time that year, also black, which covered my chest but gave that look that maybe there isn't a skirt under that coat.

But I was so excited that I was ready an hour early. I paced around my room trying convince myself, successfully, not to try on other outfits. I couldn't focus on YouTube or homework or really anything. I thought of masturbating but I didn't want to take off or mess up my clothes, and besides, the energy wasn't really sexual, just excitement.

Finally I got a text and went to open my suite door. Jessica looked amazing. Part of me wondered if she was going to dress boyish, me knowing little about lesbians except what I saw on TV. But she was wearing a cobalt blue dress under a black leather jacket with black ankle boots. The dress stopped around the bottom of her knee, but she was still showing leg - I almost couldn't believe it. What I really couldn't believe, though, was that she wore her auburn hair down, neatly brushed with a crisp center part, falling almost to her waist. I almost exclaimed "You look amazing!" but thought better, not wanting to insult her regular attire. Instead I stammered a bit until I got out "Shall I drive?" to which she insisted on driving because she had made the plan.

Grateful that she hadn't noticed my near-flub, I asked her if she had Friday classes (she didn't, only science majors and freshmen did, apparently), and we got back into innocuous college girl conversation. Our conversation didn't get substantial until after we were settled at the restaurant when she said, "Ok, I'm sorry if this is awkward, but I kind of have to know. I noticed you last year, you were just a regular college girl with regular friends and regular clothes. You told me you came out over the summer, and this year you're dressing to kill, usually alone, and started hitting on me from the first word I said. What gives?"

I gave a nervous laugh and just responded, "It's kind of a lot to unpack."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I want to get to know you, and, well, I don't want to say anything offensive, but it's just so different from how I acted after I came out."

I took a deep breath and said, "Ok, but I don't know how to say without scaring you away."

"Promise I won't be scared."

"I think... I think, I had a wild summer, and something turns me on about being sexualized by women, and I've been trying to recreate that."

"But you said that hasn't worked well?"

"No, I think my entire suite is terrified of me."

"So were you dating someone over the summer?"

"No, well, I don't think so."

"Well I don't mean to get too personal, but you were sleeping with someone?"

I wasn't nervous to answer, but I was uncomfortable. Jessica would have to eventually know my sexual tastes, but if I was going to get any that night, I needed to play things right. But I answered, vaguely but honestly, "A few people."

"I guess," she said and then paused, "I guess it's just fascinating to me because I came out a lot younger. I had just turned fifteen, and then my first girlfriend was a lot older, so everything for me was slow and nervous."

"Yeah, it wasn't slow for me," I said. I was about to pause to let her answer but then continued, "I had a lot of lesbian sex before I even realized that I wasn't straight."

She laughed her water back into its glass. "I'm sorry, I get not knowing whether you're gay or bi, but how do you do that and think you're straight?"

"I guess," I kind of winced to acknowledge how silly it all was, "I had a history of 'practicing' with girls, and so when things escalated I was just like 'Ok, just more adventures.'"

"So your first hookup was with someone you knew?"

I took a deep breath and decided to modify the story. "My best friend came over on my neighbor's eighteenth birthday, she made one thing lead to another. Turns out she's always had a crush on my neighbor and they're a couple now."

"I understand so much more now."

"Will you explain it to me?"

She laughed and said, "I don't understand that much. But so you guys were still hooking up after they became a couple?"

"Yeah, but not just with them. But I guess it was different because I knew everyone that I hooked up with, and now I'm trying to find new people but I don't really know how."

"Honestly, if I didn't get so weak in the knees every time I saw you, I wouldn't have noticed any sign that you were gay. I mean, I checked your fingers so many times."

"Checked my fingers?"

She held up her middle and index fingers together. "High femmes usually keep their nails long and these two fingers trimmed."

I didn't know what a high femme was but I got the implication. My first instinct was to express amusement at the revelation, but then I thought of something better. "I have enough skill that I don't need to cut those nails."

"Oh you think so?" she teased back.

"Maybe you'll get to know so."

"Ok, but if you're exaggerating, I'll file those things myself."

I laughed. "OK, but tell me this. What's a high femme? Like I know butch and femme, but like, there's others?"

"Yeah there's all kinds of vocabulary. I don't know how important it is, but basically a femme is into hair and makeup and stuff, while a high femme is like obsessed and always really stylish. But I think the categories are a little dumb, it's like people try to figure out if I'm a femme or something else, and I'm just like, I started wearing three bras at a time when I was thirteen, I'm just trying to not get harassed."

"Well you look great tonight."

"Thanks. It gives me comfort that you're so much hotter than me, because you'll get harassed first."

"I wish I got harassed more. By girls. I get enough from guys, it's boring."

She laughed. "I didn't think any woman, gay or straight, would use boring as their first word for harassment."

"Well, I love when women say stuff like that to me, so when a guy does, I'm just like 'Ugh, I wish that was a woman.'"

"So do you mind that I'm not a sexual harasser?"

"Of course not. I'm even surprised at how much I've liked getting to know you."

"I'm surprised I'm OK with how forward you are."

I reached out and rapped my long fingernails on her side of the table. Getting to the salon as a chemistry major is tough, so I just had them painted a deep wine color that brightened the white skin of my hands. "I just have to make sure you know these sexy things also feel great."

"Damn me and my fear of going too fast. Otherwise I'd take you to the bathroom right now."

"Wouldn't be the first time I did that with someone in a gorgeous blue dress."

She just shook her head and smiled. A giddy smile, and she squirmed at a loss for words. I was so horny watching her try to resist me. And even hornier knowing she was just as turned on.