Free Birds - Cover

Free Birds

Copyright© 2005 by Lisa Summers

Chapter 1

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The continuing story of Rachel and Kira, and those they meet, that began in the series "Ugly Duckling." Inhibitions begin to melt rapidly in the white hot heat of their romances.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Lesbian   Humor   Incest   Sister   FemaleDom   Group Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Sex Toys   Squirting   Water Sports   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Slow   School  

Shortly after the "Santa's Helper" beauty contest in the "Madhouse" Madison Hall dorm at PWCU, ("beauty contest" might be a bit of an exaggeration, seeing as a turtle was one of the winners), Kira and I were in the midst of studying for our respective finals. But I think that our thoughts also lay with what would happen during Christmas Break, the period of 3 weeks between the end of the Fall semester, and the beginning of the Spring semester. Of course, finals were of immense importance to me, as I was on a full academic scholarship, and if my GPA (grade point average) slipped below 3.5, I could lose my scholarship, and any chance of staying in college. It was only my first semester in college, so I wasn't completely sure about how tough finals would be, and I didn't want to take any chances.

Kira's story was a little different. She was on a partial scholarship as a member of the Cheer squad, or as everyone else knows them, the Cheerleaders. Plus, her family had a lot of money, apparently, so that even if she lost her scholly, she'd still be covered. Still, it was a matter of pride for her, so she ended up doing very well at her Theology studies. I was starting out as an Econ major.

Kira's home, and family, were located relatively close to the university, about 230 miles away and still in California, in Los Angeles. My "family," that is, my nasty, insane mother, was located in Indiana, and I was in no hurry to return there. I had had no communication with that bitch since I left, and it was only now, 5 months after leaving home, and with Kira's help, that I was learning a vocabulary that could express the damage my mother had tried, and partially succeeded, in doing to me.

Kira looked up from her computer screen (she was reviewing a CD on some kind of Greek studies, I think), brushed away a stray wisp of blonde hair from over her clear blue eyes, and looked at me thoughtfully, her cute nose wrinkling. "So, have you decided if you'll take me up on my invitation yet?"

"Umm, I WAS trying to put it off until I got through with this Econ final," I said, "but, darn it, you know what? I'd LOVE to go with you to meet your parents!"

"Now, you understand that we have to go as roommates, not lovers, right darling? I KNOW my parents will love you, but they ARE very conservative, and I need to work them up to one, MY being a lesbian and, two, my having a lover as beautiful as you. Not that there's anything wrong with that. And they'll probably throw me out, and use you as their oldest daughter instead. Sort of trading up, y'know?" She grinned at me, showing all her pearly whites, and got up and walked over behind me where I was perched in my study chair, my knees bent and feet up on the seat edge. Kira put her hands on my shoulders, her strong fingers gently kneading the skin and muscles there through the jersey fabric of the PWCU sweatshirt I was wearing, in addition to my panties and white gym socks.

"Mmm," I said. "Are you seducing me into not being mad?" I looked back and up to see her smiling down on me. She leaned down and gave me a brief, but warm kiss. I felt a grateful shudder run through my body. Not a sex thing, just happiness.

"I'm just kidding, I understand why you have to do it, I'd probably do the same thing, if I had a parent worth taking someone to meet," I said.

I furrowed my brow at the memory of the pain my mother had caused me "The important thing is that we can be together. Besides, I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for me to lick your pussy, or kiss your sweet pink nipples, or stroke your tight ass hole... like when your father or mother turn their backs on us for longer than one second." Kira's hand slid down to my breasts, and she began kneading them through the slack fabric of my over sized institutional gray sweatshirt, instead of my shoulders. My nipples were poking through the fabric, begging for attention themselves.

"Don't forget my twin sister," Kira said absently. "I kind of think you'll really like her."

"Yeah, you haven't talked about her a lot. Tell me about Emily," I said.

"Well, Em and I have had a very involved relationship. As my fraternal twin, she and I have been very close, but she's also competed with me in almost everything possible. I'm the older sister, but only by about 5 minutes. Whether in grades, or sports or even competing for Mom and Dad's affection, we were always trying to one up each other. One time, Emily actually broke her ankle trying to beat me in a 100 meter sprint, the klutz. I had to wait on her for weeks, but I won the race." Kira sounded kind of proud of winning the race. Sisters, LOL. "Em's going to USC, and you'll get to meet her when we go to my parents'."

"Well, you're sister SOUNDS very nice, and if she's anything like you, I'm going to LOVE her," I gushed.

"Oh, she's a lot like me," Kira responded, off-handedly. I went back to my studies, and Kira went back to hers. As it turned out, our finals seemed to go pretty well, and Kira and I both pronounced ourselves happy with the results of our work, and hopeful that we'd score straight As for the semester, my first, and Kira's third.

At any rate, we got our stuff together for a 3 week break, which in my case was about two week's worth of clothes that I could launder as needed, the stuff for my newly adopted penchant for hair care, and a big old bag for 'personal accessorization, ' or just plain old makeup, something that Kira had introduced me to, and which had done my self confidence a world of good. Looking back on it now, I laugh, but I had like 3 different kinds of shampoos and 2 different conditioners, and countless shades of eye liners, mascara and all the rest of that crap. Don't get me wrong, makeup's great, but I've finally learned what really makes a person beautiful. But after years of thinking I was ugly, I think swinging in the other direction for a while was okay, don't you?

Ever since the contest that had provoked Kira to make me dress myself like a real girl, and fix my hair, and wear a little makeup, I had just felt good about me, whether I actually looked better or not. But the numbers of guys, and girls, flirting with me now gave me the idea that everyone else could see a positive change in me, too. I would be forever grateful to Kira for that, no matter what else would ever happen between us.

Kira's father arranged a rental car for us, since Kira didn't have a car and was too young to rent one on her own. It turned out to be a pretty blue Dodge something or other, and we headed out onto Rte 180 to the 5, and south to 41, where we went west until we got to Hwy 1. "There's lots faster ways to get to LA from here," Kira said, "but I really wanted you to see the views of the Pacific. There's nothing like it!".

"I really haven't had much of a chance to see the different landscapes here in California," I said. "In Indiana, it's pretty much flat, with just a few areas of rolling hills."

"Oh Rachel, California has THE most beautiful desert scenery I've seen almost anywhere. And the Sierra Nevadas, especially when they're snow covered, are magnificent. But since we're traveling along the coast some, you'll get to see the MOST spectacular views, along the Pacific Coast Highway." We drove along for several hours, and Kira was right, the views of the Pacific, the azure waves crashing on the rocks below, were mind boggling to a girl who'd never seen much more water than the community lake.

"Kira, that's SO romantic," I said. "Do you think we could ever stay at one of these bed and breakfast places? They're so charming," my eye was on a Victorian gingerbread-style house set near a cliff edge, called "Pacific Vista Bed and Breakfast."

"Yeah, they really are pretty," she said, peering over the steering wheel. The time passed pleasantly, but eventually my stomach started rumbling.

"Kira, how about we pull over at one of these little cafes along the way? I'm getting really hungry," I said. "Alrighty," she said, and we pulled into a nice looking little place with the sign, "Greenville Restaurant." We got out, and, stretching our legs along the way, walked up to the entrance. Entering, we noticed that it was fairly empty, not too surprising since it was between lunch and dinner, about 2:30.

"Hi," said the perky hostess, a black-haired cutie of about 25 or so. "Are you here for lunch, or would you just like a little tea and pie?" We said we'd like lunch, and she showed us to our table. We sat down, and she introduced herself as "Victoria," the owner, hostess and waitress. She brought us some water, then, after we'd had a chance to look over the menu, we ordered, salads for us both.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I went in to the unisex bathroom, which was nicely decorated, and definitely with a feminine touch. It was intended to be a 'one at a time' restroom, as there was no partition around the toilet, and only the one toilet and hand sink. I cleaned off the seat with some toilet paper, though it already appeared to be spotless, then pulled my jeans and panties down to my ankles (like the good little girl I was, was taught to do), and settled myself on the faux wood toilet seat. I let loose a loud stream of pee that hit with a hissing sound as it encountered the water of the bowl, and stared absently at the vaguely Roman or Grecian woodlands mural that some artist had painted directly onto the bathroom walls. To my shock, the door opened, and a woman of about 35 or so entered, directly in front of me, no more than 5 feet away.

"Oh, sorry," she said, pausing. She looked at me as if deciding something, then finally I felt compelled to say, "Umm, I'm in here.'

"Of course, sorry," the woman said again, making no immediate move to leave. Rudely, her eyes touched, first, on my crotch, lingering there, my curly brown hairs fully visible to her, then traveled slowly down my thighs, and calves, to my panties, as they rested on top of my shoes. Finally, interminably, she moved to exit, and closed the door behind her. I hurried to finish, wash up and get back to our table, to tell Kira. To my shock and horror, when I exited the bathroom, I saw that the woman was engaged in conversation with Kira.

"Oh, Rachel, this is Marina. She was just telling me of her unfortunate mistake in barging in on you. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I guess there's no way to know if someone's in there. Unless you knock or something." I suppose I was too subtle, because Marina began talking to us as though we were old friends.

"Do you all mind if I sit with you while I eat? I really don't like to be alone, and you both seem quite nice, as well as quite attractive, if you don't mind my being so forward." My hackles were up with this woman, perhaps because of the rude way she'd first 'introduced' herself, or her cavalier manner here, or perhaps just because Kira seemed to like her. In any case, we did agree to allow her to sit with us, not wishing to be impolite, and Marina offered to buy us our lunch, which mollified me a little.

Our orders came, Kira and I having a Salad Nicoise each, and Marina ordered an Asparagus Quiche, and iced teas all around. The food was excellent, and Marina turned out to be a very entertaining conversationalist, and had led quite an interesting life. She told us that she had been born the daughter of a U.S. diplomat, and that she herself had gone to work at the State Department after graduating from Smith College, one of the "Seven Sisters." Her stories of actually participating in CIA activities in Mid-Eastern countries were eye opening, to say the least.

I found my eyes fixating on her abundant cleavage, quite obvious given her low cut blouse. Marina seemed to take every opportunity to let us see down inside her blouse, and I'm not sure if I actually could see her nipples or not, as her boobs seemed ready to pop out of her top, but it was 'touch and go, ' so to speak, for a while there.

Eventually, though, we felt that we had to be moving along, so Kira and I thanked Marina, and bade her goodbye. As we were getting ourselves together in the car, Marina leaned in on Kira's side, and we both REALLY got an eyeful of her 'twins, ' as Marina invited us to her place in San Jose. We thanked her again, and assured her that we'd look her up when we were in the area next. We both stared at her as she walked back to her car, her ass seeming to issue a lewd invitation with each swing of her hips.

"Well, come on down and visit with me, you two," Kira breathed to me, like a horny Madonna (the singer, not the icon), after Marina had driven off. We both cracked up into a giggle fit.

"Do you know, that she was DELIBERATELY staring at my crotch when I was peeing? I bet she could see my pussy and everything! I was all set to tell you about how brazen she was, and then there she was talking to you when I get out!" I whined.

"Well, not to defend her, hon, but you DO have a lovely pussy," Kira said, with a leer. "And I'm amazed that more women don't demand to see your pussy, like during class and stuff."

"Um, thanks," I said. "But there's a difference, YOU staring at it, and some stranger doing it."

Kira then put her hand on my shoulder and said, "So, did you feel tempted to go with her, babe?"

I took her hand on my shoulder as an invitation, so I slid over from the passenger side, next to her as she sat on the driver's side, and placed my hand on her inner right thigh, and breathed into her ear, nibbling her delicious lobe, and said, "What do YOU think, honey?" Kira pulled her head back, to bring her mouth close to mind and, breathing quickly said, "I think that you're a little bit excited," her own hand sliding up my thigh, and over the tight vee of the cotton of my jeans. "I think that's what this little wet spot means, anyway."

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