Sarah's Girlfriend

Chapter One Sarah came home from her date vaguely dissatisfied. Somewhere beneath the pit of her belly pulsed a primal hunger she could not quite name aloud yet nevertheless could not ignore. Doug had seemed like a nice enough guy when she first chatted with him in class a couple of months ago. They had talked a little now and then before the history class they had together, and by the end of the semester when he finally asked, she had agreed to go out with him. They set the date for after finals week. Tonight, however, had been a terrible letdown. They went out dancing, and though her body had thrilled instinctively to the feel of his arms about her and the comfortable pressure of his firm male chest against her big breasts, he was no Mr. Right. His small talk was shallower than she remembered, and after he had sucked down a couple of beers in the smoky darkness, he got downright tiresome. His voice grew ever so slightly slurred, and on a slow dance his hands slid down her waist and her hips, reaching farther, toward the supple flesh of the buttocks beneath her skirt— until, frowning, she had squirmed away and headed back to the table. Even finishing their chips and salsa together was a chore. Sarah was no prude, but being groped by a sloshed frat-boy was an immediate turn-off. College was a meat market to many, it seemed, and Sarah had discovered long ago that it was hard to find someone likeable. Fortunately, she wasn't one of those insecure girls who brooded about the ticking clock and thus looked purposefully for a mate, hoping at each date that some storybook romance would begin. It might not hurt, she had to admit to herself, to stumble upon some compatible person one of these years. Yet it would be nice, too, at least, not to end up going out with a jerk, which she regarded as something of an emotional net loss. Standing before the door of her apartment, Sarah wondered if her sly, often smirkingly superior roommate, Nikki, was watching through the peephole. Sometimes she did, and when Sarah came in, then Nikki—who was one year older than Sarah, yet infinitely more cynical and world-weary— would not hesitate to pronounce judgment upon her younger roommate's date. The dark-haired, somewhat enigmatic girl was quite perceptive, and usually she was right. On occasion, though, the sultry brunette could get quite sarcastic about it, even cutting. Sarah sighed. She didn't relish tonight's I-told-you-so. Doug bent to kiss her goodnight, and, wincing, Sarah turned so that his sloppy lips landed on her cheek. He drew back for another try, but she wriggled out of his grasp. "Thanks," she muttered. "Goodnight." Wiping her cheek, she pulled out her keys and turned immediately to the lock. "See you later," her date said, pronouncing his words with the exaggerated care of inebriation. Swaying, he gave a jaunty salute. "Goodnight," she repeated glumly, and slipped inside—and bumped into Nikki, suddenly resilient breast to breast. One dark eyebrow arched, the other girl stepped lightly aside so that Sarah could slip in. "Was I right?" she wondered smugly. Sarah snorted. "A jerk," she agreed. "Well," Nikki shrugged, sable hair bouncing about her shoulders, "I hoped I was wrong." Sarah blinked. Why, what a strange thing for that girl to say! The slender brunette could be so critical, after all, of the men Sarah dated. Was the girl perhaps softening in her outlook? "I suppose I wouldn't have minded," continued Nikki mischievously, "if you had hit it off and been able to put on a nice little show for me…" She angled her head toward the peephole. "You're terrible!" Sarah laughed. "Hey, I'm not saying you should be moaning on the floor with your skirt up around your waist," Nikki shrugged. She considered it slyly, her long-lashed eyes half-lidded. "Come to think of it, I guess I wouldn't be able to see that too well from the peephole anyway—" "Nikki!" Sarah gasped. Despite herself, though, she squirmed pleasantly inside. The idea— ridiculous and yet impossibly naughty—was exciting enough in itself. Such exhibitionistic fantasies were no strangers to Sarah, though certainly she never had discussed them with Nikki. The thought of lying there in the hallway, exposed and unashamed, her naked thighs splayed as some handsome male specimen possessed and pleasured her joyous flesh was secretly thrilling to the seemingly reserved blonde, after all. How she would writhe, clutching the rippling mounds of her own bosom as his turgid flesh filled the wet grasping pink of her plump-lipped p***y! On and on she would gasp, happily, until his face convulsed in joy and his back arched and, as she watched him through slitted eyes, the striving male beast at last filled the indulgent spongy pit of her calmly receptive womb with spurt after spurt of the fluids of his helpless lusts. Ah, the dirty forthrightness of the repeated penetration, thick and juicy and squelching! Yet the thought that someone else might spy upon her in her sweaty copulation—especially her wicked roommate—was perhaps just as titillating, and the fact Nikki would speak the notion aloud now gave it an even more sweetly forbidden thrill. What would it be like, she wondered, to be gazed at as one lay in the throes of passion, helpless and beautiful with joy? Would it make her want to play with her n*****s more urgently, both for her own dirty pleasures and, perhaps, for the pleasure of the viewer? And, her mind continued on naughtily, would such shameless behavior make the watcher want to play with herself as well? Yes, many, many were the pleasantly perverse notions to which the secretly sensual blonde had m*********d over the years, guilty and yet helpless to resist the needs of her poor easily excitable flesh, but she had always believed that most other girls did not do that dirty thing nearly as much as she herself did. Oh, everyone must do it sometimes, Sarah told herself. Occasionally she shivered with the joy of that peculiarly arousing knowledge, perhaps biting her lip as she imagined what this female friend or some attractive saleslady at the mall or a certain pretty girl on the street must look like when she pleasured herself in private. Now and then the poor imaginative blonde spent a lot of time imagining it, really. Sarah was pretty sure, though, that few others had gotten into the habit quite as desperately as she had. And the thought that somehow her own behavior would make some good-girl go bad, luring the innocent thing into m**********g herself into a beautifully gasping frenzy— Oh, that was a wondrous, forbidden thought! Sarah shivered. "You're terrible," she repeated a little uneasily. "No," Nikki assured her, "something soft-core and tasteful is all the innocent, voyeuristic thrill I ask. A goodnight kiss with a little tongue, and that dreamy look you put on—more for my viewing pleasure than the occasion warrants, I suspect—" Flushing quickly, Sarah opened her mouth to protest. "Don't think I mind," Nikki hastened on imperturbably. "Nature always benefits from a dash of art. Why, otherwise you wouldn't wear makeup. Or," she added with a roguish wag of her eyebrows as she flipped the backs of her elegant white fingers in a playful gesture toward Sarah's prominent bust, "a bra." Sarah blinked a little self-consciously. "Sorry to disappoint you tonight," she said at last, wryly. She toed off her high heels and kicked them disgustedly into the maze of the remaining unopened boxes still cluttering the closet. Such pretty shoes, she thought, wasted on a night like that! Still the thought of the exquisite exhibitionism her roommate had joked about made her quiver strangely inside. Yesterday Sarah and Nikki had moved out of the dorm for the summer and into an off-campus apartment. Sarah had come to enjoy the older girl's company greatly in her first two years at college—the experienced brunette was hard to read sometimes, yet she was simply such a sly-eyed, amusingly sardonic joy to have around, too. Rather than moving back to their respective homes in June, they had decided to stay near campus. Sarah originally had planned on returning to her parents' house over the summer, as she had between her freshman and sophomore years, but finally Nikki had convinced her to stay in the city. This way they would not save as much money for the next year of school—but the freedom and experience of being on their own in a college town, both girls decided, would be worth the trade-off. Even Sarah's parents at last had agreed. Laboriously the two had stripped their old dorm room and loaded Sarah's car with all of their possessions—their laptops, Nikki's well-worn printer that clacked and whirred, Sarah's easy chair, the second-hand TV they had purchased together last year, suitcases stuffed with clothes, crates of CDs, posters, lamps, throw rugs, knickknacks. They had spent a long, sweaty day moving everything into their new place, arranging it just right and dividing up dressers and closets. They still had a little unpacking and rearranging to do, but finally the girls had decided that they had done enough for one day. Such a change of surroundings was sure to make Sarah feel unsettled, restless and hungry inside. Feeling jittery, Sarah let out her breath and headed into the living room. The apartment had only one bedroom, but the living room was spacious and comfortable, and their kitchen was larger than what most students had. "That was an evening I could have done without," Sarah sighed. She shook her head as Nikki dropped her slender, long-hipped and shapely body onto the couch beside her. "The place was crowded, and it was so smoky. Ugh, I hate that." The dark-eyed Nikki leaned close to Sarah's blonde waves and whiffed. "Yeah," she agreed in distaste, "you still smell like an ashtray." "Aw, really?" Sarah said disgustedly. "My nose must be dulled." She flexed her nostrils. "No, I guess I can smell it, too. I'm gonna change." She rose and headed into the bathroom, closed the door behind her. Sarah rinsed her face off in the sink and regarded herself in the mirror. She was fairly attractive, she knew. Framed by waves of flowing gold, her face was friendly and open—pretty green eyes, cute nose, and full lips. She was a little on the tall side, too, which was good, for her breasts were large, and she was full about the hips—very shapely, Nikki had assured her, though she herself was always rather conscious that either might be too heavy. She tried to be careful whom she went out with, because she had learned long ago that some guys were interested only in those big, bulging white boobies of hers. Tonight—well, tonight she apparently had judged wrong. She unbuttoned her blouse slowly and let the silky garment, now reeking with others' cigarette smoke, slide off her softly rounded forearms to the floor. She wriggled out of her skirt, too. Clad in lacy panties and brassiere, she yawned suddenly. She watched herself as she stretched, watched the way the creamy flesh of her bosom rose full and softly overflowing. Beneath the flowered lace, she could not help but notice, the sensitive flesh of her n*****s were puckered up hard and stiff. Furtively she glided her fingertips lightly over those agonized lace-covered peaks, sending pleasurable little tingles rippling straight down to the very center of her being, secret and musky and damp. Caressingly she stripped herself still further. She slid her panties down off her swelling hips, down her sleek thighs and shapely calves, to the floor. Reaching behind her, she unfastened the hooks of her bra worked the straps off her shoulders. As she dropped the garment she cradled her heavy flesh absently in her cupping palms. The excitement of the move into their new apartment this morning had made her quietly restless, and the close dancing this evening had worked her up even more. Pressing her thighs together beneath her lower belly's delta of moist blonde curls, Sarah squeezed softly at the white flesh plopped upon her splayed hands, working her fingers down to the turgid pink-brown points at the front of her mammaries. For a long moment she fondled herself idly, automatically, scarcely even realizing it at first as she held her n*****s between thumbs and forefingers and rolled the crinkled nubbins to send a rosy glow through her entire frame. Soon, though, she began to pull at the tender things, stretching them—hard. Ah, that felt nice! Though it made her uncomfortable sometimes that the first thing any guy noticed about her was her breasts, Sarah had to admit, rather grudgingly, that she could not really blame them. Why, if she herself clutching those wobbling globes, squeezing them, pinching and pulling at the sensitive pink-brown bundles of fire that crowned them so alluringly, how could some simple male resist either? Sarah bit her lower lip. She felt like reaching down, down across her flat belly to the nest of fragrant blonde crinkles below, down to the moistening velvet that pulsed open and ready. God, she needed to masturbate! It had been too long, and her poor nerves were jangling, and sometimes it was just so hard to find the privacy she needed! She preferred to masturbate when Nikki was out at class or at work, of course. Oh, how she let herself have it then! She could take all the time she wanted to get herself all fluttery and juicy inside, teasing her body, edging tremblingly close to climax and then retreating, nearer and nearer with each sweating attempt at the summit, pushing the limits of her flesh until she could scarcely stand it. And when she was alone like that for hours on end, wallowing gluttonously in her self-pleasuring, how whorishly vocal she could be, too, whimpering and moaning in unrestrained delight! She knew no shame. Sometimes, though—well, sometimes the girl had had some really close calls and had almost gotten caught. Occasionally it was because of some change in Nikki's plans, but more often it was the dirty Sarah's fault as she lost track of time, just rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, grunting like an animal in the squelching joy of her private rut. When she got on the internet, for example, oh, how what began as a quick peek at a naughty website here and there could turn into an hour or two or three, a long sweaty morning of excited clicking through one dirty amateur site after another! One site, for example, showed girls on Spring Break flashing their jiggling boobies and making out with other girls while guys—and other women, too!—stood around and cheered. How kinky it was! Why, they did it right there in public for all to see, and rather than dissuading the girls, it seemed to turn them on even more. Oh, the look in some co-ed's eyes as she grabbed her girlfriend's jaw and kissed her right on the mouth, red lips caressing, wanton tongues twined behind prettily flushed cheeks… Another site chronicled some average-looking guys who drove around in a van to pick up attractive girls on the street and proposition them. Many, of course, recoiled or cursed out the man holding out a fistful of hundred-dollar bills, and the guys posted these videos, too, with the girls' faces blurred, since they hadn't signed a consent form. Sometimes, though…oh, sometimes those prowling boys could really pick them! When the right uninhibited wench climbed aboard, she would do anything—anything. The smiling little slut might strip her sleek flesh before these aroused, chuckling strangers, might masturbate herself while they watched her every movement. And then, while scenes of everyday life rolled past in the van's windows, she would lie back and spread her legs, laughing as she invited the men to f**k her one by one. Sometimes they even pulled out and came all over the girl's face. Yet a different one might reveal the basement of what was obviously an ordinary suburban home…only here a severe middle-aged lady had set up a dungeon so that she could take out her every frustration upon demure yet secretly bi-curious girls. Wearing shape-hugging black latex crotchless pants and a corset that pushed her great big blue-veined breasts up and out, leaving her enormous n*****s bare, the round-faced woman in cat's-eyes spectacles chose her willing victims from fans who had e-mailed her website. During any particular session, the lucky girl would be ordered to strip—slowly, teasingly—while the older woman smiled about how pretty she was, how fresh and young and attractive. Soon, though, breathing heavily, the latex-clad woman would start to call the girl a cunt and a slut and a w***e. She was made only for abuse, wasn't she? The lady might taunt the girl, and the girl, whimpering as the demanding lady pulled vengefully at her youthful n*****s, could only gasp out her agreement. And then, while the woman's paunchy, balding husband filmed it all indulgently, the bosomy woman would tie the little wench spread-eagled and exposed, and she would play with her panting wild-eyed toy mercilessly, on and on through the most beautiful humiliations, until finally she forced the squirming thing to shriek out her sweetly forbidden orgasm… And at the sudden sound of the key in the lock the unsatisfied Sarah would have to close those pages frantically. Then, red-faced and with her poor n*****s aching for her touch, as her roommate entered with a bland smile of greeting, the trembling blonde could only tap guiltily at the keys with sticky fingers and pretend that she was shopping online for shoes or perhaps checking her e-mail. How mortifying it was, how embarrassing! She always hoped Nikki couldn't tell what she had been doing, but still the awkward moment of uncertainty made her cringe within. The shamefaced girl always told herself that that was the last time such a thing would happen to her…and yet the restless Sarah simply never learned her lesson. It was a little off-putting now to know that her slinky, self-assured roommate was sitting there on the couch in the room just on the other side of a single closed door, but…well, it was rather kinky in a way, too, wasn't it? The slender ebon-haired beauty sat there so cool and composed, so placid and oblivious, while at the very same time Sarah would be rubbing her wet cunt into a delirium. How deliciously naughty! This was something good girls didn't do, didn't talk about, didn't even think about. Yet Sarah simply could not resist. Surely there was no harm, the blonde tried to tell herself. It wasn't as if Nikki would know, after all. Releasing one of her breasts with a vague reluctance, then, she put the fingertips of one trembling hand into the musky folds of her vulva and began rubbing herself there. Breath coming shuddery and slow, she leaned her thighs against the cool counter of the sink. Faster and faster she prodded herself, ever more urgently. Yes, that was what she needed, she realized, reeling. It felt so good— "Sarah?" Nikki called suddenly. She knocked on the closed door. "Hey, will you be done soon?" Sarah jerked guiltily at the sound. She pulled her naughty fingers from her squelching p***y, frowning. "S-s-sure," she called out in shaky tones. "J-just a sec." Heart pounding beneath her stiff-nippled mounds, Sarah washed her hands, splashed her red face with cool water, then dried herself. Oh, if only she had had just a few moments longer… Trembling with pent-up emotion, she put on her long nightshirt and smoothed it quickly over her flesh. She picked up her smoky clothes and opened the door. "Sorry," Sarah said quickly to the girl who eyed her with those sultry dark orbs. "I guess I was trying to scrub that nightclub smell out of my pores." "Oh, no, I'm sorry," Nikki apologized. Her voice, though, almost seemed to hold a slight inexplicable smirk. "I had a couple of Cokes while you were out," she said with a bland shrug of those expressive eyebrows, "and now…" The corner of her red lips quirked, and then she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Sarah dropped her clothes in the hamper in the bedroom, then came back to sit down on the couch again, her belly quivering. She let out her breath unsteadily. She stared for a moment at the glassy eye of the unlit television screen, glanced at the magazine basket and the shelves of books. There was an article in Smithsonian she had been wanting to read, and she was working on an old novel by Willa Cather, too. Yet right now she could hardly sit still. Well, she thought, checking the clock, it was getting late. Soon they would be in bed, and Nikki in the bunk beneath her would drop quickly to sleep. Then, thought Sarah, then— She shivered convulsively. Nikki came out of the bathroom. She had changed for bed, too, and now, like Sarah, wore only a long nightshirt. Her little breasts jiggled within the loose cotton, and, suddenly self-conscious, Sarah crossed her arms over her own generous mounds. The skin of Sarah's arms sensed the pebbly roughness of her erect n*****s beneath the thin garment, and she shifted her hips uncomfortably. She hoped Nikki wouldn't notice. Nikki dropped back beside her again, and the brunette's slinky hip brushed against Sarah's nearly-bare flank. "Feel like a game?" she wondered. "Cards? Maybe Scrabble?" "Well, that does sound fun," Sarah managed with what she hoped was casualness, "but I don't know…" She licked her lips nervously, her mind awhirl with the thoughts of what she was going to do to herself. It was torture to wait. "It, uh—it is getting kind of late, and I am a little tired. Moving everything was more work than I thought it would be." "You said it," agreed Nikki. "But it's worth it, isn't it? Our own place!" She grinned invitingly, like an amiable devil whose sultry red lips could convince anyone of anything. "No more noisy dorm rooms, no more annoying suitemates, no more cafeteria food." "Yeah," Sarah smiled, "of course." She crossed her legs, and felt her upper thighs grind moistly together, felt the smooth white skin sliding against velvety pink. She bit her lip. "I'm just tired," she said, her tone sounding unconvincing even to herself, "that's all." "Sure," said Nikki, giving a yawn that to the uncertain blonde seemed slightly theatrical, almost mischievous somehow, "me, too." Sarah blinked at the strange thought, but then the dark-haired girl wrinkled her nose. "You know, though, your hair needs a wash before you go to bed, or else your pillow'll end up all stinky. That gorgeous blonde mop still smells like cigarettes." She reached out and in a calm, almost possessive gesture flipped a yellow tress against Sarah's cheek, making a stale, acrid reek waft up. "Hell," gritted Sarah, hating to admit it, hating to let anything come between her and her desperately needed bedtime, "you're right." She frowned, thinking of cool sheets against her bare body in the starlit darkness, her nightshirt pulled far up to expose all her hungry places. How she longed to touch herself! She could scarcely wait. "But I—I don't know," she stammered, "I'm too tired. We, uh, we might as well just head to bed." "Oh, come on, Sarah," said Nikki imperturbably. "Think of how bad it'll be in the morning." She held up her hands and wriggled her fingers playfully. "Come on," she urged, "I'll do it in the kitchen sink. You just stand there and relax." "Aw, thanks, Nikki," Sarah protested, "but you don't have to do that—" Nikki pushed at her shoulder. "Get over there," she grinned, "and let me do the work. What are friends for?" Sarah fidgeted. The ebon-haired Nikki was not…well, not manipulative, exactly, but Sarah had noticed that when she wanted to get her way, she did. She was a sly, smooth talker, and sometimes she could be almost flirty about it, even seductive, her approach made disarming by the playful obviousness of it all. The way she could bat those long lashes or pout those sultry lips of hers! And of course tonight—why, how could the secretly agitated blonde fault her logic? Unable to beg off with any excuse she could say aloud, therefore, Sarah at last had to let herself be coaxed to the kitchen, where Nikki started warm water running. Nikki strode regally to the bathroom and came back with the shampoo. She tested the water. "Okay," she beamed. With an elegant gesture of her supple wrist she motioned for Sarah to put her head in the frothy stream. "Thanks, Nikki," Sarah smiled, touched by her friend's concern despite the urgency of her own shameful needs. She put her hands together on the rim of the sink, spread her elbows across the gleaming stainless steel, and lowered her honey-blonde hair into the water. It was comfortable, soothing, warm. "There," said the other, coming alongside of her. "You just let ol' Nikki do ya." Sarah sighed as the girl reached her slim white hands into the golden mass of hair and began to cleanse it. Nikki's graceful fingers worked slowly, caressingly through Sarah's shining blonde waves. Diligently she stroked through the gleaming strands, even massaging her fingertips all about the tired skin of Sarah's scalp. "Mmm," Sarah crooned sleepily, "feels nice." "Good," replied Nikki in soft tones, "good…" Her hands traveled comfortingly through Sarah's hair and all over her scalp. She squirted in some shampoo, and it began to suds, tiny bubbles crackling all around. "Maybe I'm missing my calling going into anthropology," came the girl's smiling voice. "I should have been a hairdresser, huh?" It felt so pleasant…except—well, except that the rim of the sink beneath her arms was very cool, a great contrast with the water playing through her hair. Her n*****s, she realized suddenly, had perked up again, thick and bold. They ached with a comfortable hunger. Sarah bit her lip uncertainly. She opened her eyes and peeked out sideways as best she could, but her vision was sorely restricted. Still, she saw Nikki standing on one side of her, craning around so that she could work better from the top down. The girl concentrated on laving her friend's flowing hair. Sarah pulled her elbows in a little and let each hand slide down the opposite arm. Nikki seemed not to notice, so she tucked her hands beneath her armpits as if to keep them warm. Secretly, then, she worked her palms around the swells of her breasts, which hung beneath her, just in front of the sink. It felt good to cradle the supple flesh like that. Emboldened, Sarah curled her fingers until she had caught her turgid n*****s against her thumbs. The tender flesh was clothed only in one thin layer of cotton, and she could feel every pebbly crinkle of the tight, throbbing morsels. Sighing, she gave the firm nubbins a gentle squeeze, trying not to squirm as the sensation quivered straight down to the untouched c******s nestled within the silken pink folds of her hairy labia. She ground her hips together lightly, trying to make it seem that she was merely readjusting her stance. This was terribly dirty, Sarah realized shamefacedly, but she simply could not help herself. So long as Nikki couldn't notice it, she tried to tell herself, there was no real harm. Biting her lip as her dear friend so unconcernedly bathed the glowing golden mass of her hair, Sarah clutched secretly at the thickened meat of her n*****s. She fingered herself quietly, pulling the sensitive peaks, twisting them. It felt so good! Her thighs were pressed tight together, squeezing faintly in a rhythm that perhaps Sarah herself did not even recognize. Red-faced within her folded arms, she longed simply to open her trembling thighs and rub herself into a gasping delirium. Yet she could not do so with Nikki there. Her whole body ached with longing—but with the indirect methods she now was using she could not quite bring herself off. That would have to wait, she realized ruefully. Sarah contented herself as best she could, therefore, rolling the thickened tips of her breasts between naughty fingers and thumbs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A pleasant tingle warmed her beneath her faintly moist belly. Her thighs ground comfortably together, sliding insistently back and forth over sensitive folds of pink velvet. She wished it could go on forever. Yet finally Nikki was finished, and, guiltily, Sarah had to stop touching herself. She withdrew her hands slowly, casually, trying somehow to convince herself that she had been merely stretching or scratching, not secretly m**********g. Her roommate rinsed the last of the shampoo from Sarah's hair and worked her hands sensuously through the honey-colored tresses, squeezing out as much water as she could. Then she grabbed the towel with both hands and rubbed it all over Sarah's head. "There," she said. "You do that a little more, and I'll get the blow dryer and finish you off." "Thanks, Nikki," Sarah said sheepishly. Continuing to dry her hair as the other headed to the bathroom, she straightened her back and stood—but she kept the towel before her flushed face and her stiff-nippled breasts. The end of the towel flipped back and forth as Sarah rubbed. "Okay," said Nikki, returning. She plugged the dryer into a socket. "Now I'll just finish so you don't get your pillow all wet." "That's okay, Nikki," Sarah tried to protest, "don't bother. I can do it myself." Her n*****s were so big, so obvious! She was loath to remove the towel. "Hey, I started it," replied Nikki with a slow, easy smile, "and I can finish it. Here." She grabbed the towel and tossed it easily aside. The dryer whirred as she thumbed it to life, and Sarah felt a rush of warm air. "Now just close your eyes." Reluctantly Sarah did as she was told. There was an excruciatingly uncomfortable split-second before the air blew full force into her hair, and the guilty Sarah could not help but wonder if Nikki, distracted, had noticed the size of the upstanding n*****s beneath her T-shirt. But, no, she thought— that wasn't very likely. Was it? Sarah bit her lip uncertainly, and then she felt the heavy blast of heated air start to burrow into her tresses. Nervously Sarah stood there as her roommate dried her hair. She crossed her arms awkwardly before her, trying to hide the erectness of her hungry n*****s. The warmth of the blow dryer worked all about her neck and shoulders, her scalp, her face—but those rigid points simply would not go down. They needed more than mere heat, she knew. Her n*****s always had been sensitive, and when they were excited, it took more than a mere change in temperature to make the hungry things go flat. Those erections, she believed from long experience, would not drop until they had been pulled and pinched and fondled, until her red-nailed fingertips had slipped down into her watering cunt and rubbed herself into an ecstasy. Sarah shivered as she thought about it. She needed to masturbate so, so urgently… "There." Nikki shut off the dryer and ran a brush through Sarah's hair. "Good as new." "Thanks," Sarah said again. Pursing her lips, she lowered her arms and began to move away. Her n*****s were so big, so sensitive—she just wanted to turn the lights off and get into bed and stretch the naughty things as high as she could. And while she tortured herself like that with one hand she would just reach her other hand down into the sticky blonde nest between her quaking thighs and then— "Oh, wait a minute, Sarah," Nikki added as an afterthought. The dryer sounded again, and with aplomb the dark-haired girl directed it suddenly at Sarah's breasts. Sarah jumped, but Nikki continued imperturbably, her fingertips light but very purposeful as they restrained Sarah's shoulder with the most casual of touch. Smirking, the girl blasted first one stiff n****e with hot air, then the other. The heat was sudden, as sharp as the unexpected bite of pretty white teeth. The almost painful sensation—and her terrible embarrassment—made the erections go flat instantly. Then Nikki grabbed Sarah's nightshirt in the region of her fluttering belly and gave it a quick tug to smooth out the wrinkles the peaks had left in the thin cotton. "There," she grinned. "You looked kind of cold." She arched a pretty eyebrow. "Better?" "Uh, y-yeah," Sarah stammered. "Th-thanks." "Hey," Nikki said easily, "what are friends for?" *** Sarah lay in the darkness in the top bunk, heart hammering beneath her full breasts. Her n*****s had perked up again, impudent and bold, longing for attention. Between her thighs she was embarrassingly wet. Nikki turned over in the bunk beneath her, and adjusted her pillow. Sarah could hear the older girl's feet move a little beneath the sheet, rustling. Sarah always had considered herself the sensitive type, for she had noticed long ago that any stressful change—moving into the dorms in the fall or out of them in the summer, studying for exam week, or sometimes even working on a big research paper—made her masturbate energetically. Sarah had found that when she was all wound up, a long self-indulgent bout of self-pleasuring was the very best way to settle her jangling nerves. When her body was distracted, after all, so was her mind, making it hard to concentrate, hard to stay focused, hard to get anything done. Once she had relaxed her sensitive mind and her supple body with the warm chemicals of well-being that each sweet orgasm sent coursing through her bloodstream, then she could accomplish other things. Of course, Sarah m*********d fairly frequently anyway. It simply felt so good, and there seemed no reason not to. She still could not help feeling a little guilty sometimes at the frequency of her self indulgence, but over the long years she had explored her body, shamelessly, joyously, discovering all the little tricks that made her flesh sing. Many were the nights back in high school, for example, that she played with herself innocently beneath the covers in the soft starlit darkness, breathing in the heady aroma of her squelching lubrication as she rubbed herself to sleep with the idea of shapely naked cheerleaders who might kiss and pet and stroke each other in the showers after a football game… The very notion of the cheerleader was an odd one to Sarah…but a pleasantly odd one. There was nothing strange about wanting to encourage and cheer for one's home team, certainly. But wasn't it a little bit peculiar, Sarah had always wondered, to dress up those nubile young girls in ways that so accentuated their burgeoning sexuality? She had thought long on the vexed subject. A cheerleader, she had concluded, was by definition a luscious treat for the eyes and a wicked temptation for one's tremblingly restrained fingertips, a forbidden present wrapped up just enough to hint at the fleshly pleasures of the unwrapping. This wholesome icon of small-town America—perky and smiling in her bare-legged splendor—was just so innocently erotic, enough that she could scarcely help but inflame both the natural lusts of young men and even the vague, unacknowledged desires of other girls. After all, the members of the senior varsity cheerleading squad were all pretty young women of eighteen or so, shapely and athletic. You dressed them in perverse little costumes—sweaters that hugged and displayed tender youthful breasts jiggling high and firm, exquisitely short pleated skirts whose flirty flounce emphasized the narrow tuck of slim waists and the promising swellings of long sleek hips. Then you made them prance before you, made them get excited, made their hearts pound beneath those resilient mounds so that soon their pretty faces grew alluringly flushed. Their longlashed eyelids dark with blood, their cheeks warm, their full lips parted and glistening, such sweetly displayed girls would glow with a sensual radiance so natural as to be all the more enticing. And as the sweet morsels stretched and jumped with such inflaming innocence, they kicked their smooth legs high, baring naked upper thighs and a tantalizing glimpse of rounded buttocks. How could anyone not stare longingly? Why, during the school day the pale tender skin of those soft inner thighs was chastely hidden under skirts or shorts or jeans, but now—now it was put on display to be politely ogled. Scarcely any imagination at all was needed to realize that that creamy succulent flesh veritably begged to be hungrily parted so that wondering fingers might sport, prodding insistently, in the soft moist tissue between. When the very core of a prancing cheerleader's womanhood was covered merely by one thin layer of damp white cotton, who could resist imagining that soft little garment's removal? If such a girl was attractive in the glow of athletic exertion, how much more adorable might she be when stroked where the tangles of her curling fur parted with the slippery folds of velvet beneath? Those panties, wet with sweat, so easily could be soaked with another sort of moisture, too, if prodded just right. And when that musky cotton finally was slid down over hips and thighs, across pretty knees and calves, past trim ankles and slender shapely feet, how warm and ready her secret places would be! Really, Sarah told herself secretly, few indeed were the watchers who could resist wishing to touch such a sly temptress in the petal-soft flesh there, making her shiver demurely, making her gasp and squeal prettily to the attentions which her own teasing behavior had provoked. In Sarah's little fantasies the cheerleaders themselves came to recognize this, too. Even as they performed for the crowds, perhaps chaste as they began, they could not help but be subtly affected by the sight of their teammates' youthful flesh, by the feel of buttocks soft and yielding in frank palms as they vaulted each other into the air. It would be only natural to let oneself grip those cheeks appreciatively, to squeeze and cradle them so that the lofted girl would not fall. It would reassure the held-up girl, and it would feel good for the lifters as well. The straight-armed young athletes below would relish the feel of the pert round bottom in their splayed hands with professional unconcern. And if as the captain of the team—a sly-eyed redhead with crooked crimson lips—was boosted up by a pair of round-shouldered teammates, her friends' splayed fingers happened to stray dangerously close to a sweating young crotch…well, surely there was no harm in that. Why, the girl's skirt still covered her so that no one else might see if those tapering digits accidentally slid now and then beneath the moist cotton of thin white panties. Biting her full lower lip demurely, ponytail bouncing prettily, the girl would feel red-nailed fingers brush against the russet tangles of her soft, secret places. Nipples hard and tight against the knit of her v-necked sweater—so bold and aching that she imagined everyone must notice, though the wicked girl knew that no one but her dear friends could tell—the airborne cheerleader tried not to squirm as curious feminine fingertips scratched teasingly through matted musky curls. Eventually, of course, those fingers would slip right up into the open flower of her trembling p***y. It was an exquisite torture for the captain to balance there on display before the eyes of hundreds, smiling fixedly back at fellow students, parents, and teachers alike with one naughty girl's finger thrust right up her dripping wet cunt and another girl's digit pushed firm against her clit, fingertip trembling pleasurably with the strain of the shapely rounded forearm beneath. Her body screamed soundlessly in erotic agony—and she would not have traded it for anything. Oh, though her flesh cried out in wanton desire, the exhibitionistic wench could not quite attain the blisses her teammates made her crave. Yet as she was plopped back down to her sneakered feet, soon it would be her turn to help lift a friend high, her turn to grip a plump young buttock, her turn to push her pretty fingers into the squelching depths of a girlfriend's forbidden vulva… On and on they teased each other in turn, fingers slipping beneath the thin wet cotton of lubrication-slicked panties to prod slyly at each other's lustful young p*****s. After the game, of course, when the girls hit the showers, they might eye each other with halfaverted gazes as they stretched themselves lithely beneath the warm spray. They had pranced and posed for others long enough. The girls knew that they were fantasy-bait for hundreds, and the knowledge was a powerful aphrodisiac. The other young adults of the student populace were already seething with hormones. It took little to arouse such easy victims, but when these sly girls put on their display, those watchers were particularly helpless. Many were the gangling boys—and girls as well, they suspected—who would hurry home to masturbate with the sight of pretty cheerleaders burning the feverish insides of their tightly closed eyelids. How many of their classmates would owe tonight's forbidden orgasm to their prancing cheers? Throughout the game dozens of youthful c***s strained against brass-riveted denim at the sight of those luscious girls. And after the game, how many young men would return home to their parents' house, bound upstairs, and lock their bedroom doors behind them? Oh, how beautiful would be those poor throbbing shafts as they curved relentlessly upward from fluttery bellies covered with wiry curls! Testicles puckered up tight and full and pleasantly aching, the boys could not keep themselves from touching their masculine flesh. They would run their hands tremblingly over turgid pillars of meat pounding dark with blood. The glans crowning each hungry phallus was sure to be magnificently purpled, perhaps already slicked with a clear droplet of seminal fluid. As these young men lay back across unmade beds, gripping their rigid organs desperately, happily, how many facial tissues soon would be soaked with desperate spurts of stringy semen sprayed from aching young phalluses purpled with desire? After the terrible tease of those athletic young wenches, many were the shy adolescents who longed to drain their bulging balls empty in the slick welcoming depths of a pretty cheerleader's indulgent cunt…and instead they would find themselves jerking off helplessly, spraying their c*m straight up in an explosive fountain of desire whose droplets would arc back to wet belly, tangled sheets, and gasping red face alike. It was all for them, the naughtily teasing cheerleaders knew. And some of those young men still inflamed with the energy of youth, their bodies slippery with sweat and with c*m, would masturbate their tired flesh again, frantically. The girls loved to think of that. Oh, those hairy, sweat-sheened, predictable male beasts! What a joy it was to enslave them! And the other young women in the crowd— How many good girls' panties already were moist with generous lubrication, silently crying out for tapering fingertips that could not resist the natural call, the attraction of shapely feminine flesh from which the brainwashed sensibilities recoiled but to which the sensuous body was inexorably drawn? As they sat with their boyfriends, secretly relishing the rippling muscles of the football players, how much more secretly might they eye the girls of the cheerleading squad! They had never thought of another girl in that way, they didn't want to—but they just could not help themselves. Those short-skirted flirts were just so pretty, so perversely inflaming. At the kiss at the end of the date, some of those good girls could not help imagining what it would be like if the face they kissed was not that of some pimply young man but that of another girl. How naughtily arousing it would be to dig one's fingers into the warm tresses bouncing around a pretty cheerleader's faintly perspiring neck, to feel another girl's bright red lips, to taste a slippery feminine tongue within one's unashamed mouth! n*****s inexplicably hard, such good girls would turn away before their dates could notice, and then they would hurry upstairs to relieve their terrible tensions. Once the door was locked behind her, each burgeoning young woman would strip hastily and fling herself nude and gleaming across her bed. Naughty legs thrown wide to expose the curlsheathed moistness of a wildly agitated cunt, a poor good girl would moan as she caressed herself longingly, whimpering as she frigged off dirtily at the thought of the forbidden flesh of those shapely young women prancing so provocatively in their short flouncy skirts. What a terrible agony it had been to wait! Slippery fingers bunched about a c******s made erect by the most forbidden of fantasies, such a girl might imagine that those squelching digits belonged not to herself but to some other red-nailed young woman, one of those who had teased so terribly yet now might take pity and finally please. And if by chance the hesitant good-girl suddenly got cold feet and in the midst of her secretly longed-for fantasy ever tried to back out…well, those all-knowing wenches would simply force her, wouldn't they? Yes, those cheerleaders were shapely and smooth and athletic, and if they ever needed to grapple with some uncertain straight girl, needed to pull her hair and slap some sense into her, needed to control her utterly, they could. And if the laughing tormentors wished to sneer back into her wide, secretly needy eyes, wished to tear every shred of clothing from the gleaming vulnerable nudity beneath, wished to tie her spread-legged and exposed and available for anything they might wish to do to her—anything!—why, then, they certainly would. No, she couldn't tease them anymore, couldn't wriggle out of an experience that she herself so desperately craved and yet dared not name. Ah, the glorious surrender as those purposeful feminine hands cherished and ravished every inch of her! Yet even more pleasantly perverse, perhaps the girl could not help imagining that what prodded so insistently through her wet hairy vulva was not just the finger but the unashamed tongue of one of those naughty short-skirted wenches! With her flushed eyes blissfully closed, even the most reluctant good girl might hear the slurping moans of appreciation, the smacking lips of an oh-so-welcome seductress… Oh, to the cheerleaders it was a particular thrill to know that their performance would make some sweet straight girl play with her guilty p***y, helplessly. And the naughty cheerleaders had smiled with mocking innocence at the appreciative fathers in the crowd, too, those respectable men who patted their wives' knees so dutifully as they secretly ogled supple young bodies. Tonight those devoted husbands would paw their faithful wives desperately, imagining that the flesh they caressed and possessed was not middle-aged but youthful and taut and springy. As they rubbed themselves off in the comforting depths of familiar spouses' bodies, eyes blissfully closed, they could not help but imagine that the naked flesh they clasped beneath them belonged to some kittenish young cheerleader, a willing slut who would be the slave to their undeniable desires. In middle-aged fantasies such a man might replay the night's events. He would imagine that as he slipped apologetically away from the bleachers on the pretext of going to the restroom, instead he had made an assignation with the desirable wench who had caught his eye so purposefully, who had beckoned as she kicked her shapely calves high and flashed tiny white panties that were warm and moist. Her hand trembling in his, she had led him through a break in the fence and through the woods to a secret clearing where the night creatures creaked and chirped and the moon shone silver and soft. With glossy ponytail bobbing across her soft kissable nape, the girl's suddenly shy eyes gleamed a promise that only her flaunted young flesh could fulfill. A wife of many years needed no special attention to be taken once again to the familiar marriage bed, but this new girl was young and sweet and wildly different. Though she and her teammates had teased so wickedly, now the poor girl needed to be convinced again, needed to be kissed and petted and seduced. Whispering softly in her blood-warmed ear, the man might reach around to tug the ribbon from her hair, freeing the tresses through which he now might run his reverent hands. From there it was but a short step to rolling her back across their bed of moonlit moss and grass, covering her tender neck with his lips. Her pert young breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Writhing in tangled sheets on the belly of a comforting negligee-clad wife, what beloved husband could help dreaming that in such a romantic rendezvous he was cradled instead upon a flat eighteen-year-old abdomen bared with an easy flip of short flouncy skirts? After not having touched a body so firm and ripe in twenty years, what a heady joy it was to stroke that smooth white flesh, to caress it, to coax it and make it respond! And when finally she was ready—flushed and agitated, begging for his possession—he would wrap his arms around the exquisitely narrow tuck of the waist above the swell of her youthful hips. Above, as fragrant blonde waves spilled all about them in the soft moonlight, a bright-lipsticked mouth opened to be Frenched desperately, while below, the thickened lips of a tight youthful cunt accepted grateful stroke after stroke. And, of course, the girls had smirked prettily at the teachers, too, those poor souls who all day looked but dared not touch. That was an especially dirty treat. No matter how professional they were, those teachers were human beings, too—human beings with desperate desires. They tried never to show it, but now and then surely they just had to be struck by the fresh young beauty of the tender morsels entrusted to them. Just as their hands were tied by the ethics of their profession, so perhaps in secret ruminations they imagined that the night after the graduation ceremony—when their professional obligations had been discharged—they might tie the hands of their pretty former pupils, lashing them naked to a podium in an empty classroom-dungeon somewhere. Only after such wenches had graduated from their care might every little unforgotten tease be repaid—every leaning over the teacher's desk with pretty young breasts swaying soft and touchable in a low-cut blouse, every dropping of some object whose bending retrieval made a tight young bottom round and plump and sent a skirt's hem riding so high up the long rounded backs of shapely thighs. After their months of power unacknowledged, how the girls longed for this well-deserved submission! Spread eagled and exposed, writhing prettily against her bonds less in apprehension than in undeniable arousal, such a naughty cheerleader was a wondrous plaything for a long-suffering educator. Perhaps first those teasing wenches would have to be punished, very severely. Yes, when a redfaced teacher finally got one of these delicious morsels of girl-flesh in his clutches, how he might attack her! Almost sobbing in his frustration, he might spank his teasing little angel-w***e with loving savagery, his open palm ringing again and again upon naked white buttocks he had craved for so, so long. Vengefully he might pinch and pull at the alluring pink points of sensitivity that crowned her jiggling youthful bosoms. Or possibly he would drop helplessly to his knees and, clutching in devotion at the swell of her bare hips, simply bite groaningly at her sleek belly and shivering thighs, and everywhere in between. And then, after these inflaming little teases had been instructed most intimately in the error of their ways, at last experienced palms and digits, experienced lips and tongues could teach the provocative wenches what they really wanted to learn. Trembling hands and hungry mouth would slowly roam a bound young woman's nude body, fondling, caressing, licking, making her respond inside. A truly inventive member of the faculty perhaps would tease and torture his willing victim just as the girl herself for months had done to him, until the dirty thing begged for the release she had craved all along. Yet for such a terrible tease merely one climax would not be enough, and it would be a red-faced teacher's joy to see how many orgasms he could force upon the wild, helpless young thing. Pleasured as she would not have believed possible, the girl would shriek out her passions, exulting. Then if those fingertips caught the exposed pair of thimble-like n*****s just right—squeezing, twisting, stretching—perhaps the flush-faced wench could not help but lean gratefully forward and wrap her naughty mouth around a swollen p***s and urge his reddened organ down across the fluttering trough of her knowing tongue. After all of the secret teasing the poor teacher had swallowed, it was only fair that now she swallowed. On and on she would lunge her pretty face down around his agitated pillar of flesh, sucking, slobbering, until she finally coaxed a forbidden eruption of pulsing fluids down her willing throat. Ah, only after his discharge would her duties be discharged. Gout after gout of stringy semen would fill her receptive mouth, and though she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed, still stray spatters of the evidence of his desire would slip from her lipsticked mouth to gloss her flushed cheeks and her pretty chin. Painted with his glistening fluids—both the product of her inflaming tease and the demonstration of his adoring mastery of her—the sweet slave would cup the softening glans of his comfortably wilting manhood in a long, lingering kiss. And through it all her heavy-lidded eyes would gaze up lovingly. Yes, the cheerleaders had pranced and posed long enough for the others. Now it was time to do so just for themselves. It was a wonderful treat to bathe together, naked in the great echoing shower. As they shifted their shapely hips and rolled their shoulders so alluringly while they soaped their naked flesh with mockingly chaste palms, it was only a matter of time until the redheaded captain of the team reached gently over to a short-haired brunette. The slit-eyed seductress hooked her arm around the other girl's slender waist and drew her over. The two kissed softly at first, but soon with growing passion, rubbing themselves together in a swaying dance, slippery belly to belly, jiggling breast to breast, while the others watched in smiling silence. Soon all the naughty girls of the cheerleading team came together in a gentle Sapphic orgy. Bright mouths fell upon stiff-nippled breasts, and tapering feminine hands reached for naked hips and buttocks that only another girl truly knew how to fondle. In twos and threes and fours they pulled each other to the shower floor, where tingling spray splashed and hissed on firm ceramic and yielding flesh alike. The girls squealed prettily as they writhed on the smooth tile with their fingers jammed in each other's wet pink cunts…until, somehow, the football players arrived, throbbing red c***s arcing high and thick and demanding. It was for the shameless captain of the cheerleading team, of course, that the most exquisite treat was reserved. A few wanton sluts were f****d quickly by just one or two boys, but the naughty green-eyed wench demanded a ruthless gangbang all for herself. While her faithful girls ran their hands over her sleek slippery flesh, grabbing at her hips, tugging relentlessly at her engorged n*****s, the redhead simply lay back and parted her long smooth thighs invitingly. She might reach down into her sopping p***y, indulgently, and pull her thick lips wide open with dainty red-nailed fingertips. Her c******s pulsed bold and swollen. The broad-shouldered young men lined up, trembling in anticipation, and soon the girl was pinned helplessly, happily, to the floor with one giant p***s after another. Young men and women watched, entranced, as the writhing girl was f****d full, her smooth white body covered with the hairy flesh of some gasping, stubble-cheeked young man. Eyes stared unblinking as boy after boy plopped his great purpled cockhead at the smelly entrance to her hungrily dilated p***y and leaned, groaning, into her. Each man would use her gratefully, panting in mindless bliss, until all too soon he shuddered and filled the receptive pink depths of her cunt with the stringy white spatters that erupted so explosively from the spasming vesicles of his hairy balls. As one boy withdrew, his happy p***s wilting, they could watch the pearly globules of the others' ejaculations drizzling stickily from the puffy lips of her excited hole—and then the next stud would pump his fiery organ into the beautiful mess. She squelched noisily. Throughout it all the captain of the cheerleaders fingered herself idly as she gazed up into the helpless faces of the young men whose desires her supple young body both fired and quenched. Her teammates knelt all about her, touching the tight points of her breasts, caressing her shoulders, stroking her hair, kissing her ears. The girls watched in envy and in awe as their imperious leader smiled indulgently up beneath her gangbang, rocking to the thrusts which her supposed possessors could scarcely control. Yes, though two dozen strong young animals used her mindlessly, it was she who was in control, she who reveled in the physical worship she commanded. Now and then the naughty redhead would allow herself an orgasm, sometimes with the brutish thrusts of a particularly handsome specimen, sometimes with her own shameless fingertips. At the end, however, when every man lay exhausted all about her and her sweaty cunt overflowed with a musky s****l soup of thick salty white, she would nod silently to her girls. Smiling, then, her teammates would line up and suck her hairy wet p***y until she screamed… Oh, that was one of Sarah's favorite fantasies, one she had replayed countless times with endless naughty variations. Yet, really, the paths to the blonde's gratification were as multifarious as the neural pathways of the mind down which her naughty imaginings ran. After all, she sometimes asked herself with some amazement, what commonplace situation or event could she not pervert into masturbatory fodder? Perhaps afterward she might feel embarrassment or remorse, but in the height of her arousal, nothing was sacred, nothing off-limits! When she got excited, as she had today, Sarah could scarcely wait until she was alone so that she could reach down beneath the rounded triangle of blonde curls sheathing her lower belly and touch herself inside, rhythmically, comfortingly. Yet she had been too busy to get the chance, for Nikki had been with her all day. The best she had been able to do was pinch her n*****s now and then, helplessly, when her friend wasn't looking. Her date with Doug had gotten her worked up as well— he had turned out to be a jerk, but the feel of his arms around her had sent a thrill shivering down between her hips. Oh, how worked up the poor girl was! Sarah held still. She listened as Nikki's breathing gradually slowed. In a few minutes her breath came slow and deep—the girl was asleep. Sarah waited still longer just to be certain. It was agony. Finally, when she was convinced that her roommate was indeed safely asleep, Sarah pulled her nightshirt quietly up around her neck to expose herself. She had been horny all day long yet had found herself simply too busy to satisfy the needs pulsing ever more urgently in the liquid pit between her shivering young thighs. Her poor little c******s had begged for release hour after hour, unheeded—and now finally, only in the secret solitude of the gentle night could she peel back her thickened labia and give her slippery pink pearl the dirty rubdown it deserved. Fingers trembling with pent-up emotion, Sarah gently cupped the soft handfuls of the sides of her bosom, squeezing the flesh appreciatively, caressing it as she imagined she might like it caressed by another. It felt good…and in a way, somehow, perhaps it almost felt good to do as well. Slowly she progressed from palming and fondling her rippling flesh to slyly stroking the engorged pinkbrown peaks crowning those swelling young mammaries. Her n*****s already had thrust up bold and sensitive from the great crinkled circles of her puckered areolas, and it took very little to make them burn with pleasure. This was a dirty little game she had played with herself countless times over the years, one which she had particularly refined in the dorm. Before going to college, after all, she had not had to share a room with her sister since she was little. In the previous two years, however, in a way she had had to learn to masturbate all over again, refining her skills, finding new ways to heighten her enjoyment while remaining as silent as possible. There was something indescribably naughty about playing with yourself while another girl slept, unsuspecting, just below you in the silent moonlight, so close that you could hear her breathing, could hear the gentle rise and fall of her bosom against her pajamas. Yet whereas that girl's breasts were soft and peaceful, yours ached with desire, n*****s thickened and sensitive as they rubbed against your nightshirt, as your fingertips began to play lightly across them. No matter how desperately you needed your orgasm—and no matter that every young woman must do such things, and would surely understand—you dared not wake your roommate. Why, if she woke, one whiff of the scent of your p***y in the air would tell her exactly what you had been doing. The odor of such an aroused v****a, strong and wet and heady as it waited for your shameless hands to stir up its copious juices and rub them deliriously all around, was unmistakable, a dead giveaway. The very thought was dirtily arousing. Sarah had long known the joys of toying with the swollen nubbins of erectile tissue at the centers of her breasts, fingering them hungrily while her nude thighs rubbed softly together in the secret darkness. Yet in college she learned the exquisite bliss of teasing her n*****s more torturously than she ever before had thought possible. This night she used all her wiles, running her fingertips so lightly over those tender buttons that she could scarcely stand it. She caressed the tingling circles of her bosom softly for many long minutes, alternating between dragging her nails across the puckered flesh of her areolas and rolling the tips of her n*****s between competent thumbs and forefingers. The excruciating motions sent a quivery ripple running straight down her belly to the watering crotch which brooded, fragrant and untouched, between her sweating thighs. It felt so good. Finally, at long last, she could not stand it anymore. Sighing, pinching and twisting one n****e ever more roughly in her ardor, Sarah simply reached her other hand down into the hairy blonde nest of her glistening p***y and began rubbing the throbbing morsel of her swollen purple c******s with abandon. Smelly fingertips slippery with her generous lubrication, the girl stroked herself happily, ever more rapidly, until the joy welled up liquidly from the very pit of her soul, flowing like hot throbbing honey through her trembling limbs, burning in the heaving mounds of her breasts and glowing syrupy and sweet in the fevered base of her reeling brain. Her hips jerked helplessly, and her mouth worked in a soundless agony of bliss as she struggled not to cry out at the long, sumptuous climax which consumed her. She could smell nothing except the reassuring musky tang of her aroused p***y as the scent wafted out from under the covers. On and on and on her orgasm coursed through her spasming flesh. She fell asleep but a moment later, sticky fingers still pressed into the velvety heaven of the open petals of her v****a. Still her friend Nikki slept peacefully beneath her.