I Don't Believe Youbytarkatony©
"I don't believe you."
I shrugged. "OK."
I could tell from the corner of my eye that she was looking at me intently, challengingly. "When?" She demanded.
She hesitated a moment as if in shock, then she half-shouted, "YOU'VE DONE IT MORE THAN ONCE?"
"No way." She turned away, entirely unconvinced.
I didn't care if she believed me or not, but I did find it strange that she didn't. I mean, was it so hard to believe?
She waited almost a minute before turning back to me and demanding, "Who with?"
"None of your business."
She seemed to be thinking about this and it was a long time before she said, "So why didn't I know about it? We've been best friends for years."
Best friends ... and opposites. I have flaming red hair to my shoulders, green eyes and, if you'll pardon the self-evaluation, a pretty, sultry face with a good, strong, if unremarkable, body. Janie is the geek-type — for a few weeks in grade 11 she even had white tape on the bridge of her always-present black-rimmed glasses. She is shorter than me, thin to the point of skinny, with impressive breasts, alabaster skin, long chestnut hair and a pretty, if geeky, face that is often pinched in concentration. Where Janie is sharp as a tack, I'm more street-wise. "Well, it's not something you brag about ..."
"You don't brag about losing your virginity, either but I couldn't wait to tell you when it happened to me and with who and neither could you."
"You said 'I couldn't wait to tell you when it happened and with who.' It should be 'whom.' With 'whom' it happened." I pretended to be concentrating of the traffic which, fortunately, was light.
"Well?" She insisted.
I shrugged again. "Well, I just didn't think you'd be interested."
"NOT INTERESTED! WHY NOT?" She half shouted this; she sounded exasperated.
"Well, maybe I thought you'd be a little ... I don't know, shocked, a little disgusted."
"Wroooong." Then she sounded kind of hurt. "Why would you think that? And why didn't we ever try it, I mean, we've had nothing but opportunity."
I surprised myself when I said, "I did tried, a few times. But nothing."
She quickly loosened off her seat belt and turned in her seat to face me. "What do you mean you tried? When?" She sounded belligerent, as if I was lying to her.
"A few time."
"Ya, so you claim. When?" Again, the belligerence. "When was the last time?"
I thought for a second, "I don't know. A few months ago."
"When? Where? I don't remember that."
"I came up behind you, put my arms around your waist and squeezed you. I think we were at your place, in your rec room."
She laughed dismissively. "That was not coming on to me."
"No," I agreed, "but when I did it to someone else a couple of years ago, she put her hands on mine, squeezed them and that's all it took."
I could tell she was thinking about this. "So if I had squeezed your hands ..."
"You would have sent me a message ... of reassurance or approval and my little squeeze would have escalated. That's the way it works."
Her hesitation was laughably long. "Seriously?"
"If a guy came up behind you and did that and you wanted him to, what would you have done?"
She thought about this for just a second, "Ya, no, I get it but God, what if I was wrong. I mean with a guy, no big deal, but with a girl? What if I squeezed your hand or lifted your hands to my breasts or something and I was wrong? What if you were just ... like, giving me a hug?"
"Then we'd laugh it off." I flicked out my hand and ran the back of my fingers slowly across her breast.
"What are you doing?"
"Do that to me." I looked over at her. "Seriously, do that to me."
She thought about it and when she did, I said, "Oh, God, Janie, it's been a long time since someone has done that." Then I laughed. "See? When I touched you, you flinched and wanted an explanation. When you touched mine I offered some encouragement." I shrugged. "Logic. If, when I gave you that hug, you offered me some encouragement I would have taken the next step: works the same for girls as it does for boys ..."
"Except the difference is that you're SUPPOSED to play those games with guys."
I laughed, "Don't be stuffy."
She fell into deep thought for so long I though she had dropped the topic. "So what's it like?"
"Do you mean that in the sense of what is it about playing around with a girl that is similar to other activities ..."
She laughed. "You know what I mean."
"Fun?" I could tell this surprised her. "Fun? Volleyball is fun. What kind of a description is that?"
I laughed. "It's fun — recreational sex without the baggage."
"Without the baggage!" She exploded. "It's lesbianism, for fuck's sake."
"Bullshit!" I half-shouted back. "I'm no lesbian."
"Then what do you call it?"
"Fun. I call it fun. Sexual fun. That's what it is, I mean, jeez, good sex IS fun. I love orgasms, no matter where I get them. And I like to give them, too." I took a quick look over at her. "Do you remember when you stripped off your clothes and fingered yourself to your first orgasm in front of your computer?"
"Ya, well, after the orgasm passed you probably felt a little stupid: fucking yourself in front of a box of wires and a window is not normal, it's not like fucking yourself under your sheets or in the shower or wherever." I took a quick look over at her again. "Well, sex with a girl was the same sort of thing to me. It wasn't normal, and I felt a little different after I did it but I got over that pretty fast, just as I got over fucking myself in front of a computer screen."
She wasn't giving me any hint if I was making any sense to her, then, after a long time of me pretending to be looking in my side mirrors, rear view mirrors and peering around for lateral traffic, she said, "Do it again."
"Do what again?"
"Flick my tit." I did, the same way I did before but she just sat there impassively, she didn't react, until finally she said, "'Why did you do that?' I mean, that's what I'd say to that ... every fucking time. And you're telling me that you'd actually say, 'Hey, that felt really good. Do you want to make out?'"
"If I was in the mood, sure I'd say something like that, something encouraging, but hey, not every women would be into this. Most, maybe 90%, would be turned off. I get it. But as it happens, I'm not one of them."
"Do you think 90% would be turned off?"
"I have no idea. No, probably not that high, probably not nearly that high."
"I don't think so, either." She was quiet again until she said, "Fun. You really think of it as fun?"
"Ya, I do, there are other words, but that's the way I think of it, fun sex. Really, it's a bit of a blast."
She was quiet again and again I didn't know if the discussion was over, then she asked, "Do you think I'm a prude?"
"No." I didn't, but I knew she was no libertine, either.
"How many times did you try to," she laughed nervously, "come on to me?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Two or three."
This seemed to almost shock her. "You don't actually know?"
"Four. The first two were pretty subtle, pretty feeble; I could see how you'd miss the message." I laughed, I was feeling a little giddy with the conversation. "But the other two were pretty overt."
"But I missed the signals?"
She waited awhile before saying, "Are you planning on giving me another try?"
I laughed, a little nervously this time. "Nope. After this conversation another pass at you might be construed as stalking."
"So if anything is to happen, it has to come from me?" She sounded pissed off.
"Come on, Janie, I'm not ..."
"No, no, I know you aren't." She was quiet again, for about another mile, then she said, "So what have you done?"
"Sexually, ... with a woman?"
I shrugged. "Pretty much everything I could think of. Like I said, it was fun."
"Wow." She was quiet for another couple of minutes then she asked, "Have you ever masturbated with a woman?"
"Ever masturbated while another woman was there, like, say, in a car?"
"Nope." I laughed. "I've led a pretty sheltered life, Janes."
"Too bad." She reached into the back seat and got her jacket. "I thought you could give me some pointers. I'm fucking jumping out of my skin. Do you mind?"
I wasn't entirely sure I understood her but when I glanced over she had unfastened her seat belt, put her jacket over her lap and she was sitting up and, I gather, pushing down her panties.
"You know," she said, as she kicked her panties away and settled into her seat, sloughing down with her butt on the edge of it, "if you had said to me, 'do you want to fool around a little,' you know, when it was convenient, when we had time, I would have been into it. I wouldn't have known how to go about it, but I'd have been up for it."
"Do you really think so?" I said this knowing there was doubt in my voice.
She quickly looked over at me. "You don't?"
"I think you'd like to think you would but, no, I don't think you would."
She laughed, dismissively. "But you didn't think I'd sit here and masturbate, either."
"Well," I laughed with her, and said, with an ulterior motive, "I'm not positive you are."
I had hoped she'd remove the jacket, but she didn't, instead, she reached down onto the floor and I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was handing me something. Without looking I took it from her hand. It was her panties, her very wet panties. "Still think I'm faking it?"
I held the yellow nylon up to my nose, and laughed, "You can't fake that."
"They'd be about as wet."
"And as fragrant?"
I laughed for about the fiftieth time, I was really having fun with this and loving that she was, too. "I hope so."
She reached out. "Let's have them."
I took a quick look at her. "Now?"
She sat up and grabbed the steering wheel. "Come on."
I sat up, pulled up my skirt and quickly pulled my panties down but I had to kick off my shoes before I could pull them away. But when I handed them to her I had had enough. "I'm pulling off the first chance I get." We were on a two lane country road and there were lots of roads leading off it, mainly gravel. I took the first one we came to and drove down it about a half mile and turned onto a grass pathway leading to a farmer's field.
"I want to try this, Sue." Her large dark eyes were staring at me, unbelievably intense through the lenses of her black framed glasses.
"Want what?" I demanded, as I undid my belt and turned as best I could to face her.
"Fun. Sexual fun. With you."
"Take the jacket away."
She did. Her left knee was pulled up at almost a right angle and the fingers of her right hand partially disappeared into her luxuriant brown bush.
"Take your top off and your bra." I didn't like the sound of my voice but it conveyed the urgency I was feeling because her fingers moved quickly to strip her t-shirt away but I stopped her before she could remove her bra. It was yellow, like her panties, and as sheer. Her full breasts and her very stiff nipples were so unbelievably erotic that they absolutely shocked me. "Jesus." And I just stared at them, stupidly.
"Can I see you?"
"God, why." And I leaned over, put my hand behind her neck and brought her lips to mine and as I pushed my tongue into her mouth, I brought my fingers along the exquisitely smooth skin of her inner thigh and I gently slid them into her soaking pussy. But she reacted as if she had been stabbed: she flinched dramatically at my touch, so I stopped my fingers and tongue and pulled back from her and looked at her and laughed. "Think of the computer screen." And I guess she did because when I put my lips back on hers and snaked my tongue into her mouth she began sucking on it and gently beating herself against the fingers that had found their way back inside her and within a minute she was shouting uncontrollably into my mouth and when I felt her orgasm wash over my fingers her scream tapered to moans then to signs and she finally fell back against the door where she panted for a few seconds before looking up at me and laughing. "Fuck me." Then she looked down at herself, whisked away some cum from her pubic hair and she laughed again as she wiped her fingers along my leg. "Here," she pulled at my leg now and she moved forward on the seat so she could fit my leg between her body and the seat. "Pull up your skirt and take off your shirt."
When I began to pull my shirt up over my head I could feel her fingers lightly brush my pussy. "Hey, what are you doing?" Her head jerked up in surprise. There was terror in her eyes. When I laughed she pinched me, a little painfully, and she laughed, too — but I could see her relief. I threw my shirt on the console between us.
"The bra, too."
She didn't hesitate, she quickly undid the clasp between the cups and as she dropped it on the floor her fingers were back caressing me and she was looking intently at me, like really intently, as I shook off mine and dropped it on my shirt and lay back against the door opening my legs a little more. "God, we're so different, aren't we?" she said.
Her fingers whisked around my vulva, through my hair but barely touching my skin. "God, Janie, that is unbelievable." Little electric shock waves were jolting deep inside me.
Her face was intense, even painfully so. Her other hand was now between her legs.
I quivered my butt cheeks, trying to encourage her to go in me. "I just love this intimacy, Janes — it's the best part of sex." I slide down in my seat a little trying to open myself more for her. "And it's the hardest to come by."
She laughed a little contemptuously, as if she was having as hard a time with her husband, Jerry, as I was having with my fiancee. "No kidding." Then she settled back against the door, moved down a little in her seat so her pussy was only a few inches from mine. "Let's be quiet for a few minutes, OK? I just want to look at you. I want to experience this."
Her dark eyes, always so penetrating, were boring into mine. I had to look away, I looked at her breasts and wondered if she had any milk in them yet because they were even larger than I expected and more shapely — too big to be pert but wonderfully youthful, without a hint of sag. And she had really big aureolas, far bigger than mine and darker and her nipples were bigger and stiffer than mine have ever been. Then I looked at the long, thin fingers playing in my hair and I touched them, gently, encouragingly and I could hear her little gasp and I shuddered at the feel of her breaking into me and I scrunched down a little further to welcome her fingers and when her other hand began to caress the inside of my thigh I closed my eyes and shimmied at her touch as I caressed my stomach and breast.
After a few minutes I heard, "Suzie?"
Her voice pulled me from a place I had never been to before. But I didn't open my eyes. "Hmmmm."
"You're the sexiest woman alive."
I still didn't open my eyes, I was afraid I'd alter my universe, I just smiled, "Thanks, hun. You're making me feel like the sexiest woman alive."
She gently poked her finger into me now, about a half inch and she ran it slowly up and down my length. "Here."
When I opened my eyes her panties were in front of my face. "Smell me. Look at me."
I took them from her and brushed them against my face, breathing in her aroma, feeling their cool dampness and I studied her face until she brought her glistening fingers from between her legs and she started to trace a path across the contours of her breasts. I was on the brink but pretty much OK, then she picked up my panties and brought them to her face and she smiled at me, a really seductive, really mischievous smile and that did it; that sent me over. The moment I moaned, she jumped up, then on to her knees and she lurched forward, sticking her fingers deep into me and she clamped her mouth on mine and sucked on me with such ferocity that my orgasm seemed to come as much through my mouth as from between my legs.
When I stopped moaning and started whimpering she tried to pull away but I wouldn't let her. Instead, I pulled her into me, turning her so she lay on her side across me and I put my mouth back on hers and we kissed and sucked and moaned and we didn't stop until a pickup flew by and the honking stopped.
We were mostly dressed when we took to the road again and we were quiet for a long time until she said, "After you're married, can you imagine coming over to my place and us doing that?"
"You know what I was thinking?" I didn't wait for her to respond. "I was thinking how much I'd like to watch your body ... until she's born. You know, every week, watching your belly grow and your breasts get round ..."
"Fall," she laughed.
"Will you let me?"
"God, can you imagine? I'd just love that, Sues. I don't know how sexy I'll feel but I'd just love you there, looking at me."
"It isn't about the sex, Janes, it's about the intimacy."
We drove in silence. I could feel she was looking at me. Finally, I turned to her, "What's up?"
"I don't get it."
"Get what?" I had no idea what she was referring to.
"You think a little hug is a sexual hint?"
"Well, I probably pressed my breasts ..."
"ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS," she shouted. "WE COULD HAVE BEEN DOING THAT FOR THE PAST FIVE FUCKING YEARS AND YOU COME ON TO ME WITH A LITTLE FUCKING HUG AND THINK THAT THAT'S A FUCKING SIGNAL?" She was shouting at the top of her lungs now, and laughing. "A HUG IS AN EMBRACE FOR FUCK'S SAKE. GET IT STRAIGHT. STICKING YOUR TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT ... NOW THAT'S A FUCKING SIGNAL!"
We laughed for miles.