I felt like I had to get out of there. It was the worst experience of my life.
The problem was, my boyfriend was making love to me at the time. I was spread-eagled in his bed, with him pumping away for what seemed like hours, his dick humping my pussy, and it was just not doing it for me. He'd gotten it into his head that the girl has to cum, or the boy is a bad lover. Well, the truth is, he WAS a bad lover, and no matter how many times he banged me, I wasn't going to see any stars. Just the cracks in his ceiling. And now I was starting to dry up, as he'd worn off all the K-Y I'd applied. I wondered if I'd ever find a guy who could fuck me like I deserved to be fucked.
So I gave him the routine. You know what it is, if you've ever fucked a man. So after he thought I came, he rolled off me, and immediately fell asleep. And snoring. Nice. I just stared at his near lifeless corpse for a few minutes, then shimmied out of bed and cleaned myself up. After wiping out as much of his stuff as I could, I put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, sandals and car keys, and drove down to the local all-night coffee shop, "The Daily Grind."
Grabbing a decaf caffe mocha, with whipped cream and chocolate syrup (hey, what can I say, I'm all girl), I sat down at a corner table and checked out a dog-eared copy of the newspaper. If someone were to describe me at that point, I think they'd say the following: "21 or so year old blonde, long hair down over her shoulders, nice breasts (D cups), hard to say about the ass since she's sitting down (it's VERY nice), cute face, the kind that looks nice without makeup, but isn't really improved by makeup either, good legs (and 2 of 'em), and a vaguely pissed off look on her face." Yeah, that's what they'd probably say.
Anyway, I was just idly reading about the Milwaukee Dodgers or something, when I heard a soft voice coming out of the photograph of Michael Jordan.
"Hi, mind if I sit here? The place is pretty packed and strangers have to share tables." I looked around, and except for the girl making coffee, the place was devoid of bottoms to sit in the many empty chairs. I looked around Michael Jordan, and saw a 20-ish brunette with really short hair, and an outfit more or less like mine, except a green top to my blue one. And a big, cute, grin.
"Uh, sure, go ahead," I said. She settled herself, and stuck out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Jeanette. Jeanette Royston," she said.
"Uh, I'm Kim, uh, Barlow." I took her hand and shook it. Nice firm grip. And warm, too.
"So, what brings you here?" she asked. "I'm here to get some studying done, can't do it at my apartment, neighbors. Too loud. Know what I mean?"
"Uh, yeah, I know what you mean. I'm just trying to relax a little before sleep," I replied.
"Huh, I would've guessed differently, if you don't mind my saying so," Jeanette said.
"Really, like how?" I said.
"Well, you've got a really pissed off look on your face for one thing. For another, you look like you just got out of bed before you came here. My guess would be that you're pissed off at your boyfriend. Or girlfriend," she continued.
"Boyfriend," I said. "I don't go the other way."
"Too bad," she said. "I do. You wouldn't be leaving my bed pissed off." I guess my face turned really red, because she then said, "There, I've gone and done it again. My big mouth. Look, I'm sorry for butting in..."
"No, it's okay. Yeah, it's a boyfriend problem. He's a crappy lover, and I'm more mad at myself for settling. But, what did you mean about going the other way? Are you a, uh, lesbian?" I had been kind of curious about that whole thing, and I didn't know any gay girls, or at least didn't know any who were openly gay.
"Well, probably, but I have been bi in my recent past, so I guess that's what you'd call me. Bi. But, why don't you call me Jeanie?" She flashed me a lovely smile, and I noticed her light green eyes, turned up nose, and light splash of freckles across her nose. She looked like a nice person, and talking to someone nice, even if gay, was more attractive than reading an almost day old paper.
"If you don't mind my asking, what's it like to be attracted to girls?" I ventured, but even as I asked my face was turning a shade of light scarlet again.
Jeanie didn't seem to notice, and answered my question seriously. "It's not really different than being attracted to guys. Only, you're looking at other things, like breasts, and cute face, cute butt-, no, that applies to guys, too, uh, how she dresses, how she smells, a superior sense of humor-"
"Okay, I get it, I think. Gays aren't really different, just attracted to different people, huh?" I said.
"Yes, I think that's about it," Jeanie replied, with a cute grin. We went on like that for some time, and I was pleased that I'd met someone that I could talk to, who was funny and smart. We exchanged numbers, and I thought that I'd made a new friend, not easy to do in this urban area. I said I had to get back, and said goodbye. She looked a little wistful as I walked out the door.
I was beside my car, looking for my car keys in my jeans pocket, when I suddenly saw a bright light in the back of my eyes, followed by a sharp pain in my scalp. I half turned around, and saw a dirty, unshaven man, maybe 40 years old, holding a stick and getting ready to hit me with it again. He was mumbling something I couldn't make out, when I saw a flash of light green flying across the parking lot, then the man going flying. I slumped down against my car, and the next thing I knew, Jeanie was holding my hand, and gently patting my cheek.
"Hey, Kim, are you okay? Did that guy hurt you?" The look in her eyes was one of concern, tempered with anger. "I'll call 911, just sit tight." The paramedics and police came, and took our stories, though I don't think I was much help. Apparently, this vagrant had been haunting the neighborhood, and bashing women and stealing their purses. I had no idea what he thought he'd get from me. The ambulance took me to the hospital, where they pronounced my injury "not serious." Jeanie had come along, for which I was grateful.
After I was discharged after one hour's observation, I was at a loss as to what to do. I felt like I should go back to my boyfriend's, but didn't feel like explaining how I came to be somewhere other than his bed. My only other option was to go back to my place, and make up some story tomorrow for him.
Jeanie must have read my mind, because she said, "Wondering where to go now? The doctor doesn't want you to be alone. If you'd like, you could come over to my place." She looked so shy saying that, that I recalled the wistful expression on her face as I'd left. I guessed there wouldn't be any harm, so I agreed. I left my car at the coffee shop, and rode with her in her jeep to her place, a nice little apartment near the University.
"Are you enrolled in the University?" I asked.
"Yes, I'm a senior, graduating next semester. How about you?" she asked in turn.
"I graduated from Bowdoin last year, returned back here where I grew up. I've got an entry level executive type job at the gas utility," I said. She got out, and ran around and helped me out of the jeep. For the first time I noticed her body, since it was the first time I saw her standing next to me. She was a little taller than me, 5'8" I'd guess, to my 5'6". Her body was slim, but her butt looked very feminine, full, firm and round. Her breasts were smaller than mine, B cups, but nicely shaped through her t shirt. I noticed that her nipples were hard and pointy through the fabric.
She held my arm when I almost fell getting out of the jeep. My arm brushed against her breast, and it felt warm and soft to me. I felt a little tingle at that.
We went into her ground floor apartment, which was decorated in early K-Mart.
"Make yourself at home," Jeanie said. "The couch is probably the most comfortable. Would you like some coffee?" She giggled when she saw the expression on my face.
"Uck, no. How about some tea, if you have any?" I said.
"Apple cinnamon okay?" Jeanie yelled out of the kitchen. "Sure," I replied.
Soon we were both sipping our tea, and talking quietly, just as we had been in the coffee shop. I don't know if it was the excitement of the evening, or a little residual injury, but my back got really tight, and started hurting. I told Jeanie, and she asked me if I thought a back rub would help. I said that I guessed it wouldn't hurt, and she arranged herself behind me on the couch. I felt her hands on my shoulders, and she started slowly kneading my muscles down my back. It was clear that she knew what she was doing.
"Wow, where'd you learn how to do that?" I asked.
"Ohh, I'm an assistant trainer for the girls' basketball team here at the college. I'm pretty good at massaging all kinds of muscles." I'm sure that was a double entendre, but I didn't care. It felt SO good. In fact, I felt better than I ever had before, under any circumstances.
"Jeanie, that feels very good," I cooed. She laughed, and her head came forward towards me as I lolled mine back. We found ourselves looking at each other, and she gently pecked at my cheek. Her lips felt warm and soft against my skin, and I held my head there so she wouldn't stop. She held her kiss momentarily, and I found my hand coming around the back of her head, to hold her there.
.... There is more of this story ...