The French Student

It was 3:25 p.m. on Friday when Ashley West got off the bus at 51st and Manor. It was mid-April and the temperature was approaching 80 degrees as she walked the five blocks to her house. That was way better than the unseasonal 90s on Tuesday and Wednesday, but still perfect weather for her sleeveless pink blouse and thigh-length blue jean skirt.

Ashley was a big natural blonde with a lush Marilyn Monroe figure. She liked the walk through the old East Austin neighborhood—down the hill past the Islamic Center and the Austin-Travis County Emergency Operations Center, along 51st Street to Waterbrook Drive and then turning onto Brookdale Lane. Her house was in the middle of the block. Like the others, it was a two-bedroom house from the early 1960s, surrounded by towering trees.

On a normal Friday, she'd still be in class, but her 3:00 p.m. Art History class had been canceled. That gave her an extra hour to work on her painting before she had to get ready for her date with Mike.

Ashley was still a virgin. She'd dated boys all through high school. They'd French kissed and she'd let the guys take her top off to kiss, lick, and suck her breasts. A few had dry humped her, but she'd never let them go further.

She'd gotten more serious with Mike Hart. They'd met at freshman orientation. She was an art student while he was a business major. He lived at home and worked at his parents' hardware store almost every night, but on Friday, they'd have dinner and go to a movie or some sporting event, then come back to the house and spend a few hours in her bedroom.

They did everything short of intercourse. Mike loved foreplay and was a competent pussy-eater who always got her off. Ashley liked sucking his cock and making him come, but she wasn't willing to go further. She told Mike she was "saving herself for marriage." The truth was that she wanted her first time to be with a man who set her on fire and Mike just didn't do that.

Ashley opened the front door and stepped into the cool living room. "Hi," she called. "I'm home."

There was no answer. She fixed a glass of iced tea—NOT sweet tea—and took it into the living room. The floor to ceiling drapes were open and the sliding glass patio door looked out into the sun-drenched back yard. Genevieve, her roommate, was lying face down on a blanket. As usual, she was naked.

Genevieve Behrend was French, studying dance at UT Austin. She was a nudist and loved sunbathing naked in the fenced back yard. At first, that had freaked Ashley out, but she'd quickly gotten used to Genevieve's casual attitude about clothes. Now, Ashley hardly noticed when Genevieve was naked in the house, which was most of the time.

Actually, she DID notice. Genevieve was the most beautiful young woman Ashley had ever met. She had jet black hair that looked almost blue at the right angle, blue eyes as clear as a cloudless sky, unblemished silk-smooth skin, long legs, and a ballerina's quietly muscular body.

Ashley wasn't into girls. Not at all! But if she was, Genevieve was the woman she'd choose.

Sometimes while she masturbated, Ashley imagined kissing Genevieve's lush lips and fondling her perfect breasts and butt. She'd even fantasized about Genevieve while Mike was going down on her. That made her feel weird, but fantasies were just . . . fantasies. It wasn't like she was a lesbian.

Genevieve was facing away from the house with her legs spread and her pelvis slightly raised. She had a hand between her legs and was slowly stroking her baby-smooth vulva.

Ashley suddenly felt hot. Her nipples were hard and her panties had grown moist. She set the tea down on the coffee table and moved closer to the sliding glass doors. She kneaded her heavy breasts through her blouse while she watched Genevieve slowly run her index finger up and down her neat little slit.

Ashley knew this was wrong. She shouldn't be intruding on her roommate's privacy. And she was straight, anyway. She tried to turn away, but was frozen in place. Her heart hammered in her chest as she slid her hands over her rib cage and down to her thighs.

Outside, Genevieve rose to her knees. She arched her back and lifted her face to the afternoon sun, then put her hands on her shapely buttocks and squeezed them repeatedly.

Ashley slid her hands up and down her inner thighs, gradually approaching her pussy, while she watched Genevieve. Her panties were already soaking wet. Mike had never done that to her. She moaned softly as she rubbed her protruding pussy lips through the drenched cloth.

Genevieve bent forward, placed a hand between her open legs, and slipped her index finger up her pussy. "God," Ashley whispered, running a finger up and down her slit. "She's so fucking sexy!"

Genevieve turned around and faced the sliding glass door. Ashley instinctively jumped back, but then realized the bright sunlight had turned the glass into a mirror, hiding her behind the reflections in its smooth surface. She returned to her previous position.

Genevieve cupped her breasts and rolled her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers while staring at her reflection. It almost seemed like she was making love to the striking young woman in the mirror. Then, she lay back on the blanket with her legs spread and her knees lifted.

The heat in Ashley's pussy radiated through her body as she watched Genevieve slip one and then two fingers up her gleaming snatch and work them rapidly in and out.

Ashley reached into her dripping wet panties and fingered her own cunt while staring at Genevieve rolling her hips in time with her thrusting fingers. Soon, she was thrashing on the blanket and screaming—loudly enough for Ashley to hear through the thick glass.

The tension in Ashley's loins built to the boiling point while she watched Genevieve come, finally exploding into the most intense orgasm of her life. She sank to her knees, gasping for breath with her heart pounding.

Genevieve lay sprawled on the blanket, recovering from her own climax. She sat up and looked at her reflection in the sliding door with a dazed smile, then rose to her feet and bent over to pick up the blanket.

Alarmed and embarrassed, Ashley leaped to her feet and looked around wildly, then ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

She was adjusting her clothes when she heard the patio door open and then close. "Bonjour cherie," Genevieve called. "Are you home?"

"In here," Ashley answered. "Be out in a minute." She flushed the toilet, then turned on the water in the sink. The bathroom reeked of her overheated female juices, but there wasn't anything she could do about that.

Genevieve was waiting outside the bathroom door with a faint smile on her face. "You are early." She spoke perfect precise English with an exotic trace of a French accent. "Have you been home long?"

Ashley smiled back at Genevieve, trying to concentrate on her face rather than looking down at her beautiful pear-shaped C-cup breasts and her neatly-trimmed arrow of raven-black pubic hair pointing down at her waxed vulva. "I just got here."

"It is certainly hot out there," Genevieve said. Her body gleamed with sweat and sunscreen. "I am definitely ready for a shower."

"Well, it's all yours." Ashley moved aside and watched Genevieve's undulating buttocks as she went into the bathroom.

Genevieve turned back to Ashley. "I am already steamy. I think I will leave the door open." She stepped into the shower and turned the water on.

"Okay." Ashley thought "steamy" was a good description for Genevieve. "I'm going to do some painting." She started for her room and then remembered her ice tea. It was sitting on the glass-topped coffee table in a big puddle of condensation. Genevieve had walked right past it when she came in the patio door. Did she realize how long it had been sitting there?

* * *

That night's date was nice. All Ashley's dates with Mike were nice, although not particularly exciting. They had pizza and soft drinks at a chain restaurant, then went to a movie. They took turns choosing. Mike liked action-adventure and superhero movies, while Ashley preferred art films and romantic comedies.

It was Ashley's turn, so they went to an art house for a showing of Franco Zeffirelli's 1968 adaptation of ROMEO AND JULIET. It left Ashley feeling warm, romantic, and slightly melancholy. Mike usually looked bored during the movies she chose, but he perked up for the sword fights and partial nudity.

Back in her room, he spent even more time than usual on foreplay—kissing her tenderly, licking and sucking her D-cup breasts with unusual intensity, moving down between her spread legs, and finally eating and fingering her to a long series of explosive orgasms.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms, feeling warm and secure. His stiff cock pressed against her thigh. She wondered if he'd brought condoms. Tonight, she felt ready for him . . . almost.

"You liked that," he whispered.

"Yeah. It was the best ever." She curled her hand around his stiff shaft. It would feel good inside her and she liked him. Why was she holding back?

"It could be even better," Mike whispered. "I know you want to be a virgin on your wedding night . . ."

Ashley held still, waiting for him to continue. "Yeah?"

He seemed to be blushing, but it was hard to be sure in the flickering light from the candles on the nightstand. "We could . . . I mean you'd still be a virgin . . ."

"What do you want to do?" She let go of his cock and tried to move away. He held her tightly, keeping her body pressed against his.

"Uh . . . Nothing."

"Tell me."

"Well, I could fuck your butt. It'd feel good—for both of us—and it's not your pussy."

"No." The idea of Mike pushing his big hard cock into her tight little asshole was terrifying. Sudden hot tears filled her eyes and she twisted away from him. "How could you even ask?"

"I'll be careful. It won't hurt. And I'll even use a condom, if you want."

She got up, took her bathrobe out of the closet, and put it on. "I want you to leave."

Mike rolled off the bed and took a step toward her. His dick had softened slightly, but was still long and thick. "Are you sure?" He moved closer.

Ashley suddenly felt frightened. Mike was so big and strong. He could overpower her easily. "This is NOT a porn video." She took a step backwards. "I'm a real woman and I know what I want. And what I DON'T want."

Mike glared and curled his hands into fists. "You don't know what it's like for a guy." He took a deep breath and dropped his hands. "Look. I'm sorry. It was a bad idea. Just forget it, okay?"

"Oh Mike . . ." She fled down the hall and locked herself in the bathroom.

After a few minutes, he knocked on the door. "Are you all right?" She didn't answer, not trusting herself to speak and not sure what to say, anyway. "I'll call you. Okay?" Ashley just sat on the closed toilet seat sobbing softly into a wad of toilet paper until she heard the front door close.

She stayed there for a long time, then blew her nose, washed her face, and went to bed. She was angry at Mike, but her body was burning. She masturbated to the edge of orgasm and then backed away several times before bringing herself to a violent climax.

She rested for a while, then did it again, fantasizing about Mike . . . and Genevieve . . . while fondling her breasts and fingering her pussy. She finally came, even harder than before.

Ashley still couldn't sleep. She got up, walked naked into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of wine. She finished it quickly, poured another, and carried it into the living room.

The glass was half empty when she heard a key in the front door. Genevieve had been out with her friend Annette, another French student.

Genevieve's eyes widened when she saw Ashley on the sofa, naked and holding a half-empty glass of wine. "Cherie," she said. "Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" Ashley rarely drank and she'd never let Genevieve see her naked.

For a heartbeat, Ashley felt self-conscious about her nudity, then relaxed. Genevieve had told Ashley she was bisexual when she'd answered Ashley's ad for a roommate, but she'd never made a pass. Ashley wasn't sure how she'd have responded to that.

"It's Mike," she answered, then took another sip of wine. A big sip.

"Of course," Genevieve said. "Men!" She went into the kitchen and came back with the wine bottle and an empty glass. She filled her glass and topped Ashley's off. "They can be such pigs."

"Maybe it's me." Ashley took a long drink.

"Non!" Genevieve said firmly. "Do not blame yourself for his behavior. That is a mistake women have made for far too long."

"Still, I've been giving him mixed signals. Letting him go so far and then . . ." Ashley sighed. "I guess I'm not sure what I want." She looked down at her glass. It was empty again.

Genevieve had finished her wine, too. She got another bottle out of the kitchen, then went into her bedroom and came back with a joint and a lighter.

They smoked the joint and drank more wine. Ashley smoked pot even less frequently than she drank. She watched dreamily as Genevieve removed her frilly low-cut white blouse and short black skirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, or panties.

"So tell me." Genevieve sat on the couch beside Ashley. "What did your boyfriend do?"

"It's complicated." Ashley's nipples tightened as she remembered holding Mike's stiff pole and imagining how it would feel in her pussy.

"Life IS complicated." Genevieve kissed Ashley on the lips, tenderly but with just a hint of passion. "That is why we have friends. To help work it out."

Ashley sank back on the couch with her legs open, revealing her heavy golden pelt. "Maybe I should just let him fuck me."

"You have not? C'est une surprise!"

"We've done everything else." Ashley was keenly aware of her moist pussy and hard nipples. "But it's just—"

"Le spark. It is missing?"

"Well, yeah. Mike's a nice guy, but . . ."

"The first time should be special. It is important for a woman." Genevieve smiled. "Men. They just want a place to put their cocks."

"He's a virgin, too." Ashley hesitated. "At least, I think he is."

"Possibly," Genevieve said. "But the way he looks at me . . ." Genevieve always kept her clothes on when Mike was there. "He may have had a woman. Or two."

"Do you think?"

Genevieve shrugged. "It is impossible to say. I just have a feeling." She laughed softly. "It is not like I am so experienced. I have only had one man. His name is Hercule and he is a few months older than me." She smiled. "He is tall and handsome, with curly black hair. A formidable footballer. And he was a virgin."

"What was it like?"

"Awkward." Genevieve shook her head, sending her jet black hair cascading around her shoulders. "Hercule came as soon as he put it in me. He was so embarrassed."

"How did you feel?"

"Naturellement, I was disappointed, but I mostly felt bad for him. We both wanted it to be special." Genevieve smiled. "And the next time was. It was 15 minutes later and Hercule was superb." She grinned lewdly. "His parents named him well."

"Did you come?"

"Non. Not that time. I was self-conscious and had to learn to relax. And he did not know how to please me. But, we learned . . . together."

"Did you ever let him . . . fuck your butt?" Ashley felt herself blushing.

"Is that what Mike wanted?" Genevieve asked.

Ashley just nodded, blushing even more furiously.

"Oui," Genevieve said. "Eventually. I wanted him to do it without a condom. To feel him come inside me. That was the only safe way."

"Did it hurt?"

"Non." Genevieve paused. "Well, a little. Hercule is—how you say—well hung. Like a hero. But, he had lubricant and used his fingers to relax my asshole. I was frightened and excited at the same time. Eventually, I was just excited. His cock felt even better up my ass than it did in my pussy. I came hard when I felt his cum splashing against my anal walls. Harder than ever before."

Genevieve cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. "Making love with Hercule was so good. I miss him."

"What happened?" Ashley couldn't stop looking at Genevieve. She'd opened her legs, displaying her hairless vulva. Her neatly-rolled pussy lips were shiny with her juices. "Why did you break up?"

"We did not break up. Not exactly. I came here to UT. He is studying mathematics at a university in Lyon."

"Are you going to get back together when you go back to France."

"Perhaps." Genevieve bent forward to refill their glasses, pressing her knee against Ashley's. "But it will be years before we graduate. He may find a girl. I may find another boy." She increased the pressure on Ashley's knee. "Or possibly a girl."

The heat radiating from Ashley's blazing female core spread through her body. Her heart was pounding and it was hard to breathe. She took a long swallow of wine, and then another. "Have you had many girls?"

"Quite a few," Genevieve answered. "Starting in my early teens. First, we practiced kissing." She finished her wine and took Ashley's empty glass. "Later, we became more bold." She set the glasses on the coffee table and then put her hand on Ashley's thigh.

Ashley stiffened and started to pull away, but then settled back into place and put her hand on Genevieve's. "How bold?"

"Very." Genevieve straddled Ashley's hips and kissed her passionately. "We did everything two women can do with each other."

Ashley melted into the kiss, surrendering to her blazing desire. Genevieve didn't kiss like a man. She used her tongue, but it was a caress that added fuel to Ashley's inner fire rather than a blunt male attack.

"Oh God!" Ashley put her hands on Genevieve's beautiful breasts, gently squeezing their firm flesh and pinching their hard nipples. "You're so sexy."

Genevieve moaned. "So are you." She kissed Ashley again, hard and dirty, but still not like a man. "I have wanted you since the day we met." She stood up and extended her hand. "Come on. Let us go to bed."

Ashley stood up, took Genevieve in her arms, and kissed her passionately. Her body felt so different from a man's. A guy was hard and angular while Genevieve had soft curves, with big firm breasts, full hips, and muscular but totally feminine buttocks.

They kissed for a long time. Ashley finally pulled her lips away from Genevieve's and showered her with tender kisses, on her nose, closed eyelids, forehead, cheeks, ears, neck . . . the places Ashley loved to be kissed.

"Oh mon Dieu," Genevieve whispered. "That is so good. You are an amazing lover." She caught Ashley's nipples and gently rolled them between her thumbs and index fingers. They grew even longer and harder under her touch.

Ashley opened her legs, exposing her dripping pussy and filling the air with her heated female scent. She caught Genevieve's hand and guided it between her legs. "Put your finger in me."

"Yes, my darling." Genevieve's index finger slid into her easily. She added a second finger and worked the pair in and out, curling them up to rub the rough spot just inside Ashley's pussy mouth.

"Oh yeah!" Ashley moaned. She kneaded her breasts and played with her hard nipples as Genevieve fingered her roughly. "That's right, Baby." She swung her hips in time with Genevieve's thrusting fingers. "Fuck my cunt!" She screamed and arched her back as her pussy muscles clamped Genevieve's rapidly moving fingers. "God! I'm coming!"

"Oh yes, mon amour." Genevieve fingered Ashley roughly and rubbed a thumb over her clit hood, pushing her to an even more intense orgasm. "Come for me."

"That's enough!" Ashley put her hand on Genevieve's, stopping her sliding fingers. "I'm overloaded." She felt dizzy and the room was swaying. That powerful orgasm, combined with the wine and pot, had her head spinning.

"You liked that." Genevieve pulled her fingers out of Ashley's pussy and put them in her mouth. "Yummy. Your taste is divine." She kissed Ashley tenderly. "You are divine." She kissed Ashley for a long luxurious time, stroking Ashley's tongue with hers. She wrapped her arms around Ashley's back, holding their bodies tightly together. The feeling of her bare breasts and hard nipples rubbing against Ashley's was intensely erotic.