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Bad Faith

Category: Lesbian Sex
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“Ever feel like you’re not really you? Like you’re just an actor pretending to be somebody?”

That’s exactly what I am right now – an actress stepping into costume. The same costume I wear every day. Mascara, blush, mini-skirts, tights, sleeveless blouses. I wished I had said that, but I just muttered “uh-huh” as if I were just placating her.

Ever have someone say something that you’ve been thinking all your life but never told anyone? Andy seemed to have a knack for doing just that, as if some of my consciousness had spilled from my mind to hers. Every time it happened, I wanted to scream “Yes!” I wanted to tell her that I could have written a book on the subject by now and to let her hear every sentence that I would write. But every time it happened, I responded with something similar to that brusque “uh-huh.”

I had class in fifteen minutes and make-up to put on. That was hardly the reason I stayed silent, though. When Andy said what she did, the hand that held my lipstick froze, leaving my bottom lip half-pink half-red. As usual, I was too taken by surprise to respond. By the time I had gathered my thoughts, Andy was always ready to move on to something else, as if she thought she had said nothing of any importance.

“Kinda weird, I guess. Whatever.” She finished tying her shoe as I finished applying my lipstick. I turned to face her as she walked toward the door.

She stopped and looked me over. “Geez, Sophie, I’ve never seen such a girlie-looking philosophy major. Go get a beret and a black sweater or something.”

“Yeah, well, you go put a big pink ribbon in your hair like a real girl…” She laughed at my comeback, so I pulled out my fallback insult. “Andrea.”

She grumbled. “Whatever. Smell ya later.” She stepped out the door. She hated being called by her full name.

I looked back in the mirror. My outfit was obnoxiously pink, even by my standards. That made it a prime target for Andy. She subsisted on good-natured ribbings, among other things. Growing up on daddy’s farm meant that frilly dresses and nail polish were out of the question for her. She was always ready to jump on me for being what she called “one of those suburban girls with fingernails as manicured as their lawns.”

When I get home from class, I pull out my drawer full of magazines. Elle, Vogue, Cosmo, the usual. I don’t read them for the articles, honest. I just have a fashion compulsion. And I certainly don’t want Andy to have any more ammunition by letting her see me read this stuff. She seems to have some kind of strange sense about me, though. I hate fashion magazines, I hate nail polish, I hate skirts, and I hate pink. And I think she has some suspicion that I hate these things.

Of course, that logically leads to the question of why I’m sitting at my desk looking at the pictures in the latest issue of Glamour when I want to torch all of my frilly blouses. Well, it’s the same story of my first kiss. So let’s turn the page back to that poorly written chapter of my life called high school.

It was senior year. I had never touched a boy, much less dated. I had given up on the hope that I would fill out anything more than the training bra my mother had given me in freshman year. And I had just gotten the worst haircut in my life.

I had decided that my long hair didn’t fit my minimal-effort uniform of baggy tees and dockers. Hair needed to be shampooed and conditioned and brushed. So I cut it off. The first thing I heard the next day came from the seat behind me in homeroom: “I knew you were always a lesbian, Sophie.” By lunchtime, my name had changed from Sophie to Lezzie. One girl walked up to me, stopped, pecked me on the cheek, then said, “Oops, sorry, I thought you were a guy.” I couldn’t deny it, though. When I looked in the mirror that day, I saw a twelve-year-old boy.

The Homecoming Dance was in a week and I cooked up the perfect plan to put an end to this crap. I got my hair styled, got fitted for an expensive dress, and let my mom go to town with the make-up. I almost felt bad because I had gotten her all excited and thinking that I had taken a sudden interest in school and boys. Anyway, I walked into the gym in my dress, which made my underdeveloped body look as good as it ever would, and made a spectacle of myself. I grabbed the first boy I saw and stuck my tongue down his throat. Then I promptly ran to the bathroom and hid in a stall until it was time for my mom to pick me up.

My scheme failed. I was still Lezzie and the poor boy became Mr. Lezzie. I didn’t even know his name, but I hope he’s forgotten about the whole incident. So that’s where all the pink and frills come in. Maybe the more I emulated in-crowd fashion, the more I would be respected. I didn’t want to fit in, I just didn’t wanted to get by, to not be Lezzie. By winter break, I was old news. I liked to believe that my efforts in becoming a fashion plate had paid off, but I knew it was more likely that everyone had just gotten bored and moved on to fresher gossip.

I couldn’t let go of my post-makeover Ally Sheedy look, though. It made me feel safe, like an actress in costume. I’m not a girlie-girl, I just play one in real life. When I got to college, it went from being a safety blanket to a point of pride. Look, I can think and wear pink! I wish I could be comfortable in torn jeans and a dusty t-shirt like Andy, though. It would make mornings so much easier.

Just thinking about all this crap gets me wound up, though. My clothes and magazines are like a scar that remind me of why I am what I am. No one can know the story behind a scar unless you tell them.

I threw Vogue back into the drawer and picked up Cosmo. When the pictures brought back too many memories, it was time to distract myself by breaking into the articles. Almost all of them were sex advice columns. Good for a laugh. Sometimes, though, I really wondered if girls were dressing up as French maids, tying their boyfriends to the bed, and tickling their penises with feather dusters to “spice up their sex lives.” I didn’t know any more about sex than Cosmo did.

The articles were making me even more depressed, so I fell back to my favorite distraction. I tucked Cosmo away, undressed, and slipped under the covers of my bed. The feeling of being naked, the soft sheets caressing me, was enough to make me aroused. I ran my hands down my body until they tickled my lips. Moistness began to build. I sighed as one hand slipped its fingers inside and the other played with my clit. I rocked back and forth to get that wonderful feeling from the bedding. The sheet pulled firm against my erect nipples. The comforter drooped over my toes and fluttered against the soles of my feet.

Masturbation is divine. It is cleansing. The fact that I have a little stretch of skin that I can rub to give myself pure pleasure gives me some hope that there is a god. The simple act of fingering myself can obliterate a shitty day as well as the nagging memories of other shitty days. It’s almost a bit strange to me that the act is considered sexual. I never fantasize about anything when I do it; I just let the sensations wash over me.

The old juices were flowing now and I was getting closer to orgasm. Everything that wasn’t bliss would be pushed out of my body. I writhed under the sheets and jerked my hips. I let myself vocalize a little bit. It wasn’t necessary, but it made my orgasm feel even stronger if I pretended to lose control of my vocal cords along with the rest of my body.

“Ah!” I squeaked as the door flew open. I had completely lost track of time.

“Hey, it’s not bedtime yet,” said Andy.

I nestled under the sheets. “Uh, no, just trying to take a nap.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the pile of clothes I had left on the floor. “You like to sleep au naturel?”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, then. Sorry if I woke you up. I have a bio test to study for anyway, so I won’t make any noise.”

Of course, I didn’t care. I was on the verge of orgasm. My thoughts were just a continuous loop repeating “Please go away.” Andy walked over to her desk and cracked open a book. Shit. I was hoping she would take that to the library. I pulled the covers over my head, letting myself simmer in arousal out of sight. My hand slid back toward my pussy.

I could get myself off real quick. It would feel weird to do that with Andy sitting a few feet away, though. I didn’t know how to handle the situation. It was still not even halfway through my freshman year, so I had managed to avoid situations like this so far. But Andy was a junior and a dorm veteran. She told me how her last roommate had screwed guys in the top bunk while she tried to sleep. Surely a silent little orgasm from me wasn’t a punishable offense.

I resumed fingering myself, getting right back onto the edge. Out of nowhere, the image of Andy walking over to my bed, tearing the covers off, and yelling “Gotcha!” while I convulsed in orgasm popped into my head. And that did it. I curled up into a little ball and climaxed. Unlike most of the time, however, I came so hard that my cries of “Ah, ah!” were involuntary.

I was still shaking when I heard Andy’s voice. “Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, fine, just a headache. Nap time.” Now I did actually want to sleep. I couldn’t imagine what Andy would think if she knew her roommate had just gotten off fantasizing about her a few feet over. Did that make me a pervert?

I really hadn’t felt any sexual attraction toward men or women. But I couldn’t be asexual if I liked masturbating so much. I was a girl who wanted to dress like a boy but dressed even more like a girl instead. What the hell was I? A semi-sexual double-crossdresser? Was there such a thing?

At that point, I let myself drift to sleep.

It was dark when I woke up. Andy was gone. I was tense again. I had just killed off half the day, I had work to do, and I knew I wasn’t going to get to sleep at a normal hour tonight because of that nap. Screw it. I stuffed my head into my pillow and reached for my pussy again.

That image of Andy tearing the covers off me kept returning. Maybe it was loneliness. I loved the solitary pleasure of masturbation, but I often wondered what it would be like to share with someone. How powerful would that feeling be if someone else gave it to me? How nice would it feel to be held after it passed? After I came for the second time that day, I wanted answers to those questions more than ever.

Now I just wished I had someone to hold me and reassure me, make me feel like a normal person just by gracing me with his or her presence. I say his or her because I didn’t care who or what. Boy, girl, animal, vegetable, mineral. Just someone who cared for me. Maybe I should move back home. Mom and Dad couldn’t do that for me, but at least they’d try.

When Andy came back and asked if I wanted to catch dinner, everything felt tranquil again. My odd little mood swing seemed rather silly. There was nothing wrong with me. I was eating a quesadilla and laughing with Andy like I should have been.

It was Friday night, so that meant Andy was going out and I would have to entertain myself. That usually meant a movie or a book. Recently, though, I had discovered that other people stayed in on the weekends, too. Namely the engineering nerds in the boys’ wing of the dorm. They had started constructing a miniature trebuchet and they seemed pretty confused when I showed up and started helping them chop the balsa wood.

It was an interesting diversion but it seemed to be creating the same situation I had found myself in during senior year of high school. Short, petite, no curves. Though once I refined my look, I received the first instances of male attention in my life. Being the only girl on the trebuchet construction crew was beginning to remind me of last year. These guys were a little more subtle about it, though. Instead of “Hey there, good looking,” I got whispers of “Look at that guy, can’t even cut wood straight. Here, I’ll show you how to do it right.”

Well, it was better than watching whatever Hugh Grant flick was on TV and nodding off before my weekday bedtime. I decided I might as well check on the trebuchet when Andy stepped back from her closet mirror. “Hey, Sophie. I know you’ll never let me live this down, but do you think you could help me out?”

“What do you mean?”

“Um, like a makeover. I wanna look really amazing for this party tonight.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I gestured toward her clothes. She had on a camo t-shirt that couldn’t decide whether or not to bare her midriff and a gnarled denim mini-skirt. Hardly a work of art, but it didn’t matter. Andy looked good in anything. Dirty blonde hair, big tits, long legs, worn down clothes – she had the farmer’s daughter thing going on.

“I want something different.” A girl who wants to look “really amazing” for a house party really wants one thing: To get laid. Since Andy had no problem divulging all the details of her life, I knew she hadn’t gotten boned in quite a while.

“All right, then.” I figured I’d help her out. And I could always take pictures to hold up whenever she teased me about dressing like a girl.

“Yay!” She smiled as she pulled off her shirt and unzipped her skirt. “Now dress me.”

I got a strange thrill out of handling Andy in her underwear, helping her dress and undress. I wrote it off as just not being used to doing something like this. Half an hour later, she was squealing at herself in the mirror. My ruffled skirt came to the shins, but went just barely above the knees on Andy. My halter top was loose fitting on me, but hardly contained her boobs. I had given her a ponytail that tied at the nape of the neck and a low-key make-up job.

She swung around to face me. I stood at cleavage level and her boobs jiggled right in my face. Oh yeah, she was getting laid tonight. “Okay, let’s head out.”


“Yeah, come on. Come with me for once.”

“I did.”

“You mean the time you went to the frats, had one Jell-o shot, then left? Come on, let’s go together.”

“But the trebuchet…”

“The trebuchet can wait. It’ll be there when you get back.”

That’s how I ended up in this seedy basement, my shoes sticking to the floor and my ears getting blown in by top forty rap. Andy pulled me into the writhing mass on the dance floor. She held my hands and forced me to wiggle around with her. Almost instantaneously, some guy came up to her and started dancing. He put his arms around her waist. Her hands unclasped from mine. It seemed as if he was pulling her away. I was lost now, no Andy to guide me, so I jerked around in the hopes that it resembled rhythmic movement. Another guy came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. In seconds, his hands were on my hips and his crotch was slamming into my ass. I hadn’t even had a chance to tell him to fuck off.

I pulled away from him and walked away from the mass. He didn’t seem to care. I looked around and spotted a vat. If I was going to go down, I was going to go down drunk. I took a cup and dipped it into the red liquid. It was some kind of fruit punch concoction. I turned back to the dance floor and saw Andy rubbing herself against the guy. Time for a healthy dose – I chugged whatever low-grade filth was in my little plastic cup. Then I repeated the process.

I used the bathroom and then cycled around the house a bit, pretending to mingle, killing some time. When I went downstairs, I figured Andy might be kind enough to remember that she had brought me here. But she and that same guy were making out now, right against the wall, surrounded by dozens of grinding bodies.

A feeling of jealousy washed over me. That was my Andy he was making out with. But what the hell was I getting worked up over? Did I expect her to become celibate and build a shrine to me in her closet? Nevertheless, I still felt left out.

“Hey, baby, whatcha doin’ here alone, all by yourself?” An arm slid around my waist. I despised this maneuver. It wasn’t sexual enough to be inappropriate, but when it was performed in a venue such as this one, the guy might as well have walked up to me and said, “Hello, I’m going to make a pathetic attempt to get into your pants.”

“Nothin’,” I said.

“Well, we could do something instead of nothing.” His hand dropped down to my ass.

“Fuck off.” I nonchalantly dumped the remainder of my drink onto his shirt. Yes, I do love parties. I went back to the vat to refill my cup. Andy was still going at it. By now, my jealousy had dissipated into wondering. Wondering which couch in the lounge I could get some decent sleep on. I downed some more alcohol. Dizziness overcame me. I rushed toward the bathroom, pushing people out of the way. In seconds, the drink I had just downed was spinning in the toilet.

I woke up in my bed with a pounding headache. Andy was sitting on her bed watching TV. “What the hell happened?” I groaned.

“Someone had a little too much last night.”

“Ugh. What happened to that guy from the party?”

“That guy? I was worried about you making it home. Why would I care about that guy?”

“Just…whatever.” My voice didn’t betray the fact that I wanted to run over and hug her for getting me out of that house last night. Then I realized that I was wearing my long night shirt. That meant Andy had changed me out of my party clothes, which also meant she had seen almost all of my body. I imagined her disrobing my unconscious body, running her hands over my bare skin, her fingers brushing my bare breasts. She held up my figure, clad only in panties, to slip the nightshirt on. Then she gave me a goodnight kiss, right on the lips. I shivered in pleasure at the though.

“Say, do you think you could, you know, do me up again?” Andy asked.

“Going for a second try tonight?”


“I’m just saying, you’re horny, ain’t ya?”

She laughed sheepishly. “You got me.”

“All right. But I think I’ll pass tonight. Gotta get a head start on staking out a couch.”

“Oh. Don’t- I’ll try not to do it in the room if it happens.”

“If? I think you mean when.” I traced the neckline of her tank-top for emphasis. At first, it had been a mere gesture, but then I took a good look down her shirt. Her cleavage was impressive. I almost wanted to grab her breasts to find out what a good pair felt like.

“No, really, I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure one of the engineers will give me a room.”

My prediction had turned out to be correct. Not only that, but the guy insisted I sleep in the bed while he took the floor. I couldn’t argue.

He had hit the lights when I decided to take a trip to the bathroom. As I walked into the hallway, I looked down at the entrance to the girls’ wing. I knew what was going on just a few doors down in my room, but some strange sense of curiosity overtook me. I stepped up to the door that said “Sophie/Andrea” on it. The letters “rea” were crossed out in marker and replaced with a “y.”

Rustling and grunting was coming from behind the door. Andy’s voice was getting louder until her “oohs” and “ahs” hit a crescendo. My mind wandered inside the room. It didn’t put me in the place of the voyeur, watching the two screw. And it didn’t put me in the place of Andy, getting fucked by some studly beefcake. It put me in the beefcake’s place, because that was the form that would allow me to pleasure Andy. I saw myself with a penis, sliding in and out of Andy. I was going to make her orgasm – I wanted to see the face that went along with the “oohs” and “ahs” I heard.

“Oh shit. Make me cum like that again,” came Andy’s voice. Her moans started up again. I looked at the door, with our names on it. In my mind, I blacked out the “-phie” in my name, leaving just “So-.” Letters above the cross-out formed: “-me guy.”

The door swung open. “Hiya, roomie,” I said as I flicked a switch on the trebuchet. The thing was finally complete so I had borrowed it for the day to prank Andy. It launched the water balloon ammo at near point blank range.

“What the-” Andy yelled, cut off by the balloon exploding right in her face. “-fuck?” She completed her sentence once the contents had been emptied onto her. A laugh came from behind her. I had just noticed that there was a guy standing behind Andy.

“Sophie!” At the sound of her exasperation, his laugh became half-genuine and half-nervous. “Scott, wait outside.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guy said. He looked over her shoulder and mouthed to me “Nice one,” then winked before walking off.

Andy kicked the trebuchet aside and stormed into the room. “Now I gotta change. Thanks for making me look like a dumbass, Soph.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…It was just a joke.” She was the one who didn’t realize, though. She couldn’t know how sorry I actually was.

“Shit,” she muttered, walking over to her closet and pulling out dry clothes. I didn’t know what to say and she seemed to be in no mood to talk, so I sat on my bed pretending to study. I glanced down at my book, but all the words might as well have read “Andy hates you, you stupid jackass.”

I looked up to see her peeling off her soaked shirt. Then her pants. “Fuck, everything’s wet.” She undid the clasp of her bra. I couldn’t tear my eyes away – I wanted to see her naked. Her bra and panties came off. I hadn’t seen anyone naked before. Okay, so there were the times I accidentally walked in on my brother and sister, and the time in high school that guy pulled his pants down in the middle of class. It was the first time I had seen someone I wanted to see naked. Andy’s body was beautifully proportioned. I felt a pang of disappointment as she slipped on her dry clothes.

I diverted my eyes back to the book so as not to get caught. Crap, I had just embarrassed my roommate in front of her date, then shamelessly checked her out. I was just curious, that’s it. I did it for the same reason I read articles about how to give good oral and how to make common household objects into sex toys.

I am not a lesbian, I told myself. And I’ll prove it. I sat down at my computer. I punched in “hot naked men” and paged through until I found some acceptable specimens. Washboard abs, arms flexing, angular jaws, big penises. I rubbed myself but the only desire I felt was to turn off the computer and do it under the loving warmth of my bedspread. Maybe if they were aroused, I would be too. “Hot naked men with erections.” Okay, now I had the same chippendales with boners. And some gay porn mixed in as well. I had to try more. Guys kissing guys, girls kissing guys, girls and guys screwing ten other girls and guys, guys screwing sheep.

I stopped at that last one. Fuck it. I would just have to go home and tell my parents that I had failed at being straight. Mom would wail on about not getting her grandkids and Dad would complain about me just acting out for attention. I guess I had just assumed that I would grow up and get married like all the other girls.

Nope, none of that for me, thank you. I clicked over to Playboy. That’s it – tits and ass, long hair and pouty lips. After about ten minutes, my career as a lesbian was over. Girls weren’t doing it for me either. Good lord, what’s wrong with me?

I lay down in my bed, going back to my old routine. Then those images came flooding back again. Andy whipping off my bed sheet. Andy undressing me. Andy taking off her wet clothes.

Once I had finished, I still thought about her. Andy cuddling up next to me. It wasn’t just a sexual thing. I wanted us to leave secrets behind and become close like lovers. I wanted us to be able to throw our costumes away together.

Andy had been going out with Scott for the last week while I got the cold shoulder all around. She was gone most of the time and was more closed-mouthed around me than I had ever seen her. When she had kicked the trebuchet, she broke one of the supports which needed to be rebuilt. The engineers subsequently went lukewarm on me as well.

So my main activity for the week was sitting around feeling sorry for myself. During one compelling session, Scott showed up at the door. “Is Andy around?”

“Yeah, she’s in the shower. You can come in and wait if you want.”

“Thanks.” He sat down in her chair. “You know, dating a girl like Andy is tough.”

“Why’s that?”

“Whenever I bring it up, people think I’m gay. ‘Cause of the name, you know.”

I forced a laugh. I hoped that wasn’t the biggest relationship problem he had encountered in his life. Strangely enough, though, he happened to be the biggest relationship problem I had encountered. I wanted to switch placed with him desperately. Then I could go out with Andy and act my sex just by swilling cheap beer, chewing beef jerky, and belching. And he would have to deal with sorting out something as basic as sexual attraction.

Well, at least I had learned one thing this week. In my attempts to repress attraction to Andy, I realized that I had only made the itch worse. I liked a girl, and that was that. I didn’t know what to think about that or do with it, but at least I had admitted it.

After sitting idly for a few minutes, Scott got up and sat next to me on my bed. “Say, that’s a nice dress. I like this little sash.” He fondled the end of the satin attachment on my waist.

“Oh, thanks.” I wanted to add, “But did I say you could touch it?” but kept silent.

“You’re very pretty, you know, all those nice clothes.” He leaned in toward me.


Then he pulled me toward him and planted his lips right on mine. I tried to push away. It didn’t matter – he did it himself when he heard Andy’s voice shout, “What the fuck is going on here?!”

“I can explain-”

“You, out,” she pointed at him. Scott trudged over and walked out the door. Then she pointed to me, “You, stay.” I tried to listen in on the shouting match but it disappeared into the stairway and down a few floors. Andy’s command to stay in the room replayed in my head. Surely she didn’t think I was at fault.

She came back into the room alone, hair still wet and dressed in her shower robe. “You know, sometimes you think you know someone, but you really never knew them in the first place.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean, you little backstabbing bitch. First the water balloon and now this. I just didn’t think you’d be so quick about it.”

“What? He did that! He kissed me! He-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sophie. Now I know why you dress the way you do. It’s to make up for how ugly you are inside. I think you oughta match!” She pulled my scarf off, smudged my makeup with it, and threw it to the floor. Both of us stayed silent as she gathered clothes from the closet and left.

I cried until I fell asleep that night. Sure, people had done shitty things to me, but I hadn’t been so hurt by someone so close to me. Scott must have lied to her. That bastard must have told her I jumped on him. My cheeks were still swollen and my nose still stuffy when I woke up. I threw a pillow at the wall. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Friday night and it had been more than twenty-four hours since I had last seen Andy. Maybe I could just go hang out with the engineers. Or not. One little support beam and they get all flustered. Screw ’em.

I flipped through the TV channels. Not another night with Four Weddings and a Funeral, please. I landed on Goldfinger. Maybe watching Sean Connery blow things up would be a chance for some catharsis.

Tears began to trickle anyway. And then, “I’m sorry!” The door had burst open and Andy tackled me onto my bed. “Can you forgive me, Soph?”

I stayed silent, still taken aback by her sudden entrance and embrace. “Uh…”

She leaned the two of us back up so she could rest her head on my shoulder. “Scott was a liar. He was cheating on his girlfriend with me. I should have believed you.”

“It’s okay, Andy.” I hugged her back. It felt inadequate. I felt like I should have been shouting “Thank God you’re back!”

“Oh, Soph, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She pulled back. “Your mascara’s running. Oh, shit, I can’t believe I did this to you.”

She pulled a tissue from the box on my desk and dabbed at my cheeks. “I didn’t mean any of it, I just-”

“It’s okay, Andy. Don’t get hysterical about it. Come on, let’s just watch the movie and forget it.”

She squeezed me one more time before getting up. She returned from her closet with a bottle of brandy. “This is why I keep a rainy day fund. Here, want some?”

“Yeah.” The perks of living with a twenty-one-year-old. We each downed a big first gulp.

“I can’t believe that piece of shit. I can’t believe I trusted him instead of you.” She took a sip and then laughed. “Hell, you don’t even like boys.”

Then it kicked in like a reflex: “I’m not a lesbian!”

“Whoa, calm down, Soph. I just thought, you know…”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.”

“I guess you’re right. Look at that dress, too girlie for a dyke.” She laughed again.

“I’m not girlie, either!”

“Geez, did I hit a nerve or something? You’ve been acting kinda funny lately. Are you still mad at me?”

“Look, there’s just some things, a lot of things, people don’t understand about me. So just leave me alone.”

“Yeah, ’cause you never say anything about it. Lookitchu, in that little frilly dress, like an orn’ry child throwing a temper tantrum.” The way her country accent was slipping through, I could tell she was getting drunk and agitated.

“Okay, it’s because there’s someone I like.”

She broke into a smile. “Oh, so you do like people after all. Come on, tell me.”

“You don’t know who it is,” I said.

“Maybe not. Come on, just the name’s all I’m askin’.”

I choked. How could I tell her? Best response: She bursts out laughing and then says, “Good one.” Worst response: I’d rather not think about it.

“Eric Jenkins,” I blurted. The name was complete fiction.

“Oh, yeah.” She looked disappointed. “Don’t know him. But what’s the problem then?”

“Well, you know me.”


I took a sip of brandy. Here it comes. “Come on. You know, I’m a virgin, never even kissed.”

“Yeah, I figured there wasn’t a whole lot going on down there. But not even one little kiss. I’m sure the boys thought you were cute in high school.”

“Not until I started wearing this.” I pulled the fabric of my dress. “That’s how I got my one and only kiss.”

“Oh, so it’s one now. What are you playing at?”

“Long story.”

“I’d like to hear.”

I sighed. I had never told anyone about it, but I always wished I could. Reluctance pulled at me – I was loathe to relive the experience out loud. The brandy helped it pour out, though. Andy looked rather perturbed. I felt bad for dumping this on her after what happened today, but I was so much lighter.

She grabbed my hand. “Wow, that’s rough. But, just think about it. It’s not even that big a deal. Just some high school dumbasses out to make people’s lives miserable. Screw it and do what you want. You’re only nineteen. Nobody expects you to be an expert on this stuff. Go out and kiss that boy.”

I laughed. “Wouldn’t know how.”

“All you gotta do is put your lips together and-” Her lips pressed against my cheek. Her warm breath swept over my face. I shivered. Just that little touch from her had gotten me excited.

I needed more. “Like this?” I asked, playing innocent and pecking her cheek.

“Yeah, that’s all you gotta do, except on the lips, and then use your tongue after a while.”

“Okay.” I squeezed her hand harder and put my other on her thigh. I kissed her cheek again. Control was slipping away. I had never felt such heat. And the brandy was making it worse. I laid another two kisses on her cheek.

“Uh, Soph? You can stop practicing now.”

“I just wanted to know,” I paused, unsure of what I was about to say, “what a real kiss was like. How to do it.”

“Are- are you serious?” Andy asked. I nodded. I knew I must have had a little lost puppy expression on my face, my eyes watering over. “Okay, uh, well, it’s simple, you just press your lips together, and-”

Our lips brushed against each other. I gave a little suck on her lower lip. She responded and opened her mouth. We kissed. I was overwhelmed. Another wave of arousal shot through me. Her tongue worked its way into my mouth. I met it and the two danced back and forth.

I never could have guessed, from my quick tongue-to-tongue in high school, that such a thing could consume me whole. And the kisses kept getting deeper until Andy pulled away for a moment, looking frazzled. “That’s how you kiss, I guess.”

I pushed her down so we lay on my bed and kissed her again. I rolled on top of her. My dress hiked up and her bent knee brushed against my panties. As we continued making out, I let my crotch rest on her thigh. My hips seemed to start moving of their own accord. Andy sucked my tongue into her mouth. The way I was resting on top of her, I felt like I would fall out of myself and into her.

I knew going farther would be a huge risk and I would have been delighted to kiss her like this all night. But my arousal was in command of my body. I was blatantly grinding on her thigh at this point. I had to feel her body. Was she as aroused as I was?

My fingers ran toward her breasts. I brushed my hand over her nipples. They were definitely erect. The thought that she was getting hot from this made me shiver. Then it hit. My knees clamped around her leg. I couldn’t stop it. My body quaked and I moaned into her mouth. I came right on her leg.

I collapsed on top of her, panting as if I had run a marathon. She rolled us onto our sides. “Soph…” she whispered pulling my arms away from her and standing up. “I’m tired.”

She got into bed without even changing out of her clothes.

I didn’t see Andy in her bed when I woke up. I started feeling sick to my stomach. Maybe she had run away from me. Maybe she was completely freaked out about what I did. In a way, I disgusted myself. Andy had been upset about the Scott incident and I had taken advantage of her vulnerability. I felt like one of the sleazeballs who hunts around for girls on the rebound to score with.

My cell phone rang. I picked up.

“Hey, it’s Andy.”


“I’m going to the grocery store. Want me to pick anything up for you?”

I fell back on my bed smiling, elated that the first words out of her mouth weren’t “I never want to see you again!”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

I spent the daylight hours in the library. Andy’s words kept coming back to me. “Ever feel like you’re not really you?” Such a simple question. I wondered if Andy realized its implications. Sartre had spent a good part of his life explaining the answer to it.

It had been a few years since I had read Sartre’s Being and Nothingness, but this was the perfect time to pick it up again. Bad faith, as he called it. That was my problem. His explanation of the waiter playing as a waiter made me smile as it had when I first read it. For Sartre the waiter, his behavior is a “representation,” as he says, “for others and myself…I can not be he, I can only play at being him…”

For so long, I had forgotten that Sophie in her blush and skirts and heels wasn’t more than a representation. Nor was the Sophie that didn’t care to make love. She was a lie.

“Hey, I think you left your homework on my desk.” Andy held up the copy of Being and Nothingness. I had left it open to the chapter on bad faith. I had gotten so excited waiting for her to pick it up and read, thinking she would devour it and say, “Sophie, I didn’t realize you felt just like me!” Of course, more realistically, she didn’t even make the connection that I had left the book there for her.

“Andy, remember when you said you felt like an actor playing yourself? That’s for you. I think you might like it. That chapter.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” She gave me a quizzical look.

The engineers seemed to be pacified by their new project: the potato cannon. Things had gone back to normal. As much as they could, at least. It was Saturday night and I was soldering while Andy was, presumably, out in that great beyond she called “the nightlife.”

But all day I only thought of Andy. Visions of last night, especially, forced themselves into my head. I kept reliving that moment that I came on her leg. I had never felt anything so incredible. And thinking about it constantly made me horny. A good part my reason for my trip to the library and the potato cannon construction site was to avoid spending the day beneath the sheets playing with myself.

I guess this was lust. Before today, my pussy was the release valve, the remedy for the day’s problems. Now it was the problem. It demanded attention. Not just from me, but from Andy. I decided to head back to my room early for the night, too lost in fantasizing about Andy to solder properly. I figured I’d shut the damn thing up. Take a nice long masturbation session and fall asleep.

My train of thought had become so singular – crawl into bed – that when I opened the door to my room, it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening in Andy’s bed. Some guy was straddling her, his dick right between her tits. Her head rolled to the side to look toward me standing in the doorway.

“Omigod!” she yelled.

“Shit, I’m cumming, babe!” said the guy in a strained voice.

I was frozen by the sight. For some reason, I watched as he began to shoot onto Andy’s chest.

“What the fuck?!” Andy yelled again as the guy continued to hump her chest and leave his cream on it, as if I weren’t watching them.

Finally, I came unglued. “Oh, shit! Sorry!” I backed out of the room and closed the door.

“What the fuck?!” she repeated, her voice almost as loud from behind the door. “My roommate walks in and you keep fucking me? And cum on me, right in front of her? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Sorry, I just – I mean, your tits are so nice, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help myself. Your tits are the best I’ve fucked. And your roommate walking in, to be honest, kinda turned me on. Come on, you should take that as a compliment.”

“Get the fuck outta here! Put your pants on and get the fuck out!”

I ran to the lounge to avoid the guy Andy had just evicted. I sat on the sofa with my knees to my chin. It wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t but feel that this would make things more tense with Andy. And it was an even more dramatic reminder of where her loyalties lay. I became jealous again, just as I had when I listened to her having sex with Scott. If only I could be a boy. Opposite sex, but the same exact person. It didn’t make sense to me. Why should intimacy be restricted to the opposite sex? Why couldn’t I get as close to Andy as a boy could?

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, Soph. Come on back to the room.”

I looked up at Andy. She was dressed in that camo t-shirt and chewed up denim skirt again. “Guess you didn’t need me to dress you up this time.” I had intended to say that with an air of confidence, but it came out sounding like a disappointed lament. As if I were sad that she didn’t ask for another make-over. I was, though.

“Come on, let’s go back.” She pulled me up by the arm. She smelled of alcohol, as it usually was on the weekend. We got back to the room and she closed the door.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault. I forgot to put a scrunchy on the door handle or something. Oh, Christ, that was so embarrassing.”

She looked so unsettled. I patted her shoulder. “It’s not like I can’t guess what’s happening in here, Andy. Just forget about it.” She was still sniffling. “Something else is bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Never mind. I’m just embarrassed is all.”

“Sit down.” I pushed on her shoulder until she sat on my bed. Tears began to form in her eyes. “I know something’s wrong.”

She glanced up at me. “Soph, I need to know. We kissed last night, didn’t we?”

We had pretended since last night that it hadn’t happened. It felt too awkward to bring up if she didn’t do so first. Now I was relieved that she didn’t want to ignore what we had done. “Yeah.”

“God, I was kinda drunk. All I can remember is that it got carried away. And that I was scared, ’cause I started to like it.”

“That’s okay, Andy.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. Secretly, I was jumping for joy.

“Things are starting to scare me, Soph. I read that book you gave me. I dunno if I understood all of it, but I think it was just what I meant. And it’s scaring me.” She paused. “Soph, can you just hold me?”

“Yeah, sure.” I was becoming confused. She put her arms around my waist and rested her head against my chest.

“Remember when you told me about your first kiss?” She hugged me tighter. “Well, I know you think you know all about me, ’cause I talk so much, ‘specially about myself. But I have a story I never tell anyone too. When I graduated from high school, everyone told me to stay on daddy’s farm. That I didn’t belong anywhere else. Then I got the scholarship and daddy said he couldn’t keep me if I didn’t want to stay. So I came here, to study biology so I could go to vet school. I have to take organic chemistry if I want to do that. And I had to drop it last semester ’cause I knew I wouldn’t pass. So I’m in it again, and I got an F on the last test. I have to ace the final, and I don’t think I can do that.”

I was surprised she never told me about all this. I had to admit, though, that I was no different in hiding myself away. A tear dropped down my dress. What was I supposed to say? I knew she was smart and capable. But what could I offer besides a lame, “You can do it, Andy”? So I did.

“Thanks. It’s just that I can’t go back home if I don’t. I’ll just be a stupid country girl who thought she could do something more than she was made for.”

I ran my hands up and down her back. “You’re not a stupid country girl, Andy. I know it. You’re smart. I mean, what stupid country girl reads Sartre on the weekend?”

“Shit, Soph. It ain’t just that. The thing with Scott. I still feel bad about goin’ crazy on you. And that bastard tonight. I don’t even know why I got involved with these guys other than that I wanted a good screw. Then you start kissing me. I just don’t know what the fuck is going on with my life right now.”

“Nothing’s going on. You’re gonna forget about those pricks by tomorrow and you’ll pass your chem final and you’ll just keep being Andy, like always.” I felt bad about saying that when I knew I had no idea if that would actually happen. But I couldn’t bear to see Andy so upset. And what else could I say? It seemed as if this could be a self-fulfilling prophesy – if I told her she would be all right, she would be. Maybe that’s all that was needed.

“Yeah, I hope so.” More droplets fell down my dress. I held her tight and stroked the back of her neck. “You know, Soph, you’re the only one I could tell this stuff to. I talk so much, but I can’t say anything important unless you’re around to hear it.”

Andy seemed to be coming apart in my arms. I didn’t realize she trusted me so much. Maybe our problems weren’t so different. “Did you, you know, fool around with that guy because of what happened last night?”

“I’m straight. I just needed to remind myself.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I tried to get myself off to naked guys on the internet. Kinda the same thing.”

“I’m not a lesbian!” The words were rather surreal coming from Andy’s mouth.

“I dunno, I was just saying it’s okay.”

She picked her head up from my chest. “Soph, what’s this all about? I thought you liked that Eric guy.”

“I, uh, kinda made that up.” I paused. Did I dare let her know? “You’re that Eric guy.”

“You…you’re attracted to me? Is that why you’ve been acting so funny recently?”

“Yeah.” Everything was up to her now.

“Well, it’s fine if you like girls. No reason to bottle it up and start acting weird about it.”

I leaned against her chest. She was holding me now. “That’s not it, Andy. It’s not whether I like girls or guys. It’s hard to explain. You’re just the first person I’ve…” I paused. “..The first person I’ve ever wanted to be with.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I hoped she did. “Can you understand that?” I whispered.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I like you, but not like that. Not like you mean.”

Being in Andy’s arms, having her comfort me, was only making me want her more. I felt sleazy again. It was just an innocent embrace between friends and here I was getting aroused by it.

“You said you liked kissing me, though.” I threw her line back at her. “Well, it’s fine if you like girls, Andy. You don’t have to be a lesbian. Everyone’s a little gay, a little bisexual, like Kinsey said.”

“Geez, Soph, where’s all this coming from?”

I kissed the bare skin right above her neckline. “There’s a lot more you don’t know about me, Andy.” My lips moved up toward her neck.

“Fuck, don’t do that. I’m drunk and horny as it is. That bastard didn’t even get me off.”

I just kept kissing her neck.

“Shit, that feels nice.” She pressed my head against her. “That’s sad, you know, ’cause it’s already more foreplay than I usually get. Most guys just wanna play with my tits.”

Her comment filled me with heat. The little virgin girl was turning her on. “Show me how to kiss again.” It was an order more than a request. I pushed my lips against hers. All I could taste was alcohol but it didn’t matter to me. What did was that we started kissing like we had last night.

After a minute or two, I pulled back. I couldn’t be happy with just making out tonight. “I wanna go further than kissing, Andy. If you’re all right with it.”

She looked me over. “Jesus, Soph. Your nipples are so hard you’re gonna break outta your dress.”

I glanced down. Although I lacked Andy’s endowment, to say the least, my nipples loved to draw attention to my chest. Usually, they were just annoyances in cold weather, but now I smiled because they made it clear how much I wanted Andy. Then I felt her fingers tug on the zipper of my dress.

“I think you’d feel better if you weren’t so gussied up,” she said. I sat still, surprised that she had now taken the initiative. The zippers on my boots came undone as well. She soon pulled them from my feet. “Come on, get up. Let’s get that big ol’ dress off.”

She stood me up. Her hands pushed the dress straps off my shoulder and pushed down. The dress fell from my body, leaving me in just my panties.

“I need someone tonight, Soph. Right now, you’re the best for me.”

I had no idea what was going through her mind, but I didn’t care. Andy was going to make love to me. Arousal swept over me as she lay me back down on my bed. As we kissed, she pulled at the waistband of my panties. I moaned.

“It’s such a shame. That no one’s made love to a sweet little girl like you. Hold on.” She got up and walked over to her bed. When she returned, she was holding a dildo with a strap hanging off it. She laughed. “It was a gag gift. I never used it all that much, but I kinda liked the idea of having a penis that wasn’t attached to a boy.”

I just stared at the rubber penis, waiting for Andy to continue. She held the tip right at my entrance. “You never done this before, right?” she asked.


“Tell me if it hurts. But I think you’ll like this.” The dildo sunk in, filling me up. The feeling was strange at first, but I quickly came to enjoy it. She gently moved the dildo in and out.

“Touch my clit, too.” Her finger pressed against my button. In mere moments, she had me close to orgasm. I said goodbye to my old friends. My fingers had done the trick for years, but they paled in comparison to the feeling of the dildo inside of me. My sheets had been nice, but they couldn’t match Andy’s touch.

The rubbing and thrusting grew faster until I couldn’t handle any more. I grabbed onto her arm, my hands moving with her motions. The great release came. My lips convulsed around the rubber cock. I shook and grunted with pleasure. Letting Andy control my body, my orgasm, was so different, yet so incredible.

She kept going. My pussy became too sensitive as the orgasm ended. “Please, no more,” I panted.

“You came already, didn’t you?” She smiled at me. “It is nice to have someone do that for you, isn’t it?”

I sat up, the dildo still lodged in me. I gave her a deep kiss. We both panted when it broke. “That was amazing, Andy. Now I wanna fuck you.”


“I wanna make love to you. I wanna fuck you.” I pulled the dildo from my pussy. I stood up and put my legs through the harness. “Just pretend I’m a boy who wants to fuck you. Maybe it’ll help you feel more comfortable with this. So just do what you usually do.”

“All right. Well, first, I usually get them hard like this.” She took the dildo into her mouth and started sucking on it. Watching her do this made me smile. Now I had what I needed to fuck her. I had acquired that penis I so desired.

She let the dildo go. “Then they play with my pussy a little to get me wet.” I stood her up so I could take off her tank top and skirt. She had nothing on underneath. I reached for her slit. My thumb pressed against her clit and my index and middle fingers penetrated her. She was already moist.

“Oh, Soph, I’m good. Just put it in. I want it in me.”

I pushed her back onto the bed. The plastic rod sunk into her with ease. Her lip quivered as it happened, a tiny moan escaping her mouth. I tried sliding in and out, very slowly. More soft vocalizations from her open lips. “Harder.”

I gave a forceful thrust. “Oh, shit!” she yelled, her face contorting. That only drove me to repeat my motion. Andy was making those noises I had heard through our door right into my ear. Despite the fact that I was only getting a little stimulation from the strap-on rubbing against my mound, my arousal was returning. If I made believe hard enough, I could feel what it was like to be inside Andy, the rubber attached to me turning to flesh.

Beside that one little detail, though, my fantasy had come true. Her expression was the same one she wore in my mind as she lost herself in pleasure. Now I had captured Andy in the same way all her previous lovers had.

Her breasts bounced wildly on her chest, reminding me that I had her entire body to explore. I slowed down a bit so I could grab her tits and hold them still. Her stiff nipples stuck out from the ring made by my index fingers and thumbs. My mouth watered. I took each one between my lips so many times. Suckling, teasing, nursing.

She just kept repeating, “Oh shit!” The tone was a strange mixture of confusion and utter arousal, as if she were in disbelief about what I was doing to her. A touch of doubt nagged at me. She had revealed how she needed me emotionally. But I wanted her to tell me – no, to admit – that she needed me sexually.

I let the dildo sit inside her and popped my lips off her breasts. “Doesn’t it feel good when I suck on your tits?”

“Mmm,” she hummed.

“Doesn’t my cock feel good in your pussy?”

“Mmm, yeah. Don’t stop.”

“Tell me you need me, Andy. Tell me you need me to fuck you.”

She pulled my head up from her chest. Her hands guided my lips to hers. A deep kiss, even deeper than the ones we had started with. When it broke, she stared me down. I found it impossible to read her expression. If only I could know what that face was meant to say.

I drove into her pussy hard, just once, for effect. “Please, Andy, say it.” I drew the skin on her neck into my mouth. Though she had responded to my request with a kiss, I somehow remained insecure.

She laughed. “You fuck like a horny little boy.”

“Huh?” I froze. After all this, had I proven to be an inadequate lover?

Without warning, she had stood us both up on our knees. The dildo popped out of her. Her hands rested on my shoulders. “Don’t you remember what I said?”


“You’re what I need. So stop playing at being a boy. Just be Sophie.” Her hands reached down to unsnap the strap on the harness. “You don’t need this to have sex with me.”

Watching the rubber penis fall from my hips was epiphanic. Even though we had gotten this far – openly and wildly making love – I had still found a mask to hide behind. A persona, as the Greeks would have called it.

“I didn’t ask for a boy. I asked for you.” She kissed my neck. “Sophia.” Her lips moved upward. “Helena.” And again. “Moreau.”

Her last kiss struck right below my ear. Disarmed, I shivered. I hadn’t even realized she knew my middle name. Something warm and slippery touched the skin on my leg.

“Now make me cum with your pussy. I really do need it.” She pulled the two of us flat onto the bed. The way she straddled my leg caused me to slip forward until I felt her heat against mine. This time, we both shook in each other’s arms. This felt so much better than the dildo.

Lost in desire for Andy, I wasted no time in fulfilling her request. As I pressed my pussy against hers, our clits rubbed together. Another “Oh, shit!” But this time it was one that signaled the loss of control. Her lips convulsed against mine. One of her arms pulled me by my back so that my face met hers. The other groped my ass, pushing my hips into hers. She held me there. Though she lay still, her body vibrated against mine, percussive ripples flowing outward into me.

This alone was overwhelming, but knowing that I had caused it was mind-blowing. My own orgasm was about to hit.

“Oh shit.” Then the hand on my ass held my hips still. “Stop, please.”

“Andy, what are you doing?”

“Shit, sorry, it’s just when I cum that hard, it gets too sensitive. You know?”

“Yeah…” The arm that pinned my hips was torturing me. My clit sat right against her lips. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed to release. And I wanted to do it so bad right on her pussy, like she had cum on mine. Knowing that I had gotten her off so well was only making my situation worse.

“Sorry, I’m just so close,” I whispered.

“I know. Just a little a bit of rest. Then it’ll be fine. Just a few…” she said as she yawned. Her eyelids closed. “…moments of rest.”

A snore came from her open mouth. “Andy?” I made a futile attempt.

I felt alone all of a sudden. I thought we would make love all night. Or at least that I’d get one more release. Then I remembered what Andy had said earlier. She could barely recall last night. She wasn’t even sure if it had been real. And she was drunk again tonight. The thought of waking up tomorrow began to overwhelm me. What if she blacked out completely? And then freaked out when she found herself sleeping in my bed?

I was afraid to let tonight end. I wanted my Andy back. Her breath came from her open mouth and blew hot against my neck. I put my lips over hers. Her eyelids just barely opened as she moaned.

When I pulled back, I asked, “Andy, will you remember?”

“Yeah, of course,” she mumbled as her eyes shut and her arms held me tight to her chest. She probably had no idea what I was talking about, but it felt reassuring nonetheless. Her hold loosened on me as she fell asleep again. My grip on my fears loosened as well. As they flew, my base desires rushed back to the front of my mind. I was still on the verge of orgasm. Just a few tiny motions against Andy made me shudder in her arms.

I woke up with Andy’s thigh between mine and her breasts in my face. I was still dripping wet. My pussy seemed to be insatiable. I already woke up once in the middle of the night and had to calm myself down by giving it what it wanted. Shit, just one little taste of real sex and I was going crazy.

I wanted to give Andy a special wake-up call, though. Making her cum last night had given me a feeling I hadn’t known existed. It was nice to know that my hands were good for more than just getting myself off. I swung my arm off the bed and groped around on the floor for the dildo.

I wanted to see her wake up as she was overcome with pleasure. I wanted to make her body tremble against mine, to make her skin flush, to make her voice weak. My hands caressed her clit and her lips. They were so careful, so gentle. Her lips twitched against my fingers. Her legs started to move back and forth in time to my motion.

After a few minutes, I heard, “Uh…tickles.”

I looked up to see Andy’s eyes opening. I smiled. “Morning.”

“Oh, Soph, shit, ah, you’re really doing that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” A wave of moisture rushed over my fingers. I pushed the tip of the dildo into her entrance.

She let out a yelp. “I just, oh, had a dream. About us. You. Uh. Doing things to me.”

“Sounds like a good dream,” I said, fucking her full-on now.

“Please, Soph,” she mumbled between moans. “Stop. If you keep that up, I’m gonna-”

The last word of the sentence was replaced by a long grunt. Her lips wobbled as if she were trying to hold it in but couldn’t. I loved the way she shook against me. It made my pussy slap against her thigh, which I had started rubbing on.

“Fuck,” she panted as her orgasm wound down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She slammed her fist into the bed. Her tone seemed more angry than aroused.

“Is something wrong?”

“I can’t believe it. I’m a fucking lesbian. Or bi-sexual, or something. Shit. What are they gonna say back home?”

I thought about my parents again, grousing about grandchildren and teenage rebellion. Then I imagined Andy’s parents. No doubt the churchgoing kind that would tell her what she did wasn’t natural. Screw that. What the hell would they know about Andy and me? Nothing.

Andy growled. “I’m not a lesbian! I can’t be.” I couldn’t stop myself from giggling at those words coming from her mouth instead of mine. She slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had said.

Seeing Andy going through the same thing I had over the last few days seemed to give me strength. That was it, I thought, they knew nothing. We didn’t have to tell anyone about this right away. And even if it came out at some point, maybe no one would care as much as we thought they would.

I put my arms around her shoulders. “It’s okay. Don’t you remember what Sartre said?”

She was looking off into the distance. “What?”

“‘I am never any one of my attitudes, any one of my actions.’ You’re not a lesbian or straight. Or a stupid little country girl, or a college student. You’re just Andy. Anything else would be bad faith.” I pecked her cheek. “And Andy’s all right by me.”

I saw a droplet forming in her eye. “Oh, Soph. Keep holding me tight.” She rolled toward me and nuzzled her face against my chest. As her head moved downward, it seemed as if she were shrinking, becoming more childlike every second. Holding her there made me feel that we were stuck together now, as if ever moving apart would be impossible. And unwanted.

We stayed like that for who knows how long – until Andy came up for air. “No one’s held me like that since I was a little girl.” Little patches of skin on her cheeks glistened. Her lips quivered, seemingly torn between a smile and a frown.

I pulled back the strands of hair sticking to her face. Her expression completely overwhelmed me. What I felt was so strong it had to be more than infatuation. It was so strong that it scared me a little, just because I hadn’t expected it.

Andy pressed her lips against mine. I yielded to her advance and, after a few moments, lost myself in her again.

After some time, she rolled on top of me. “I can feel how turned on you are right on my leg, Soph. I’ve been keeping you horny all this time, haven’t I?”

“Well, uh, sorry, I, uh…”

“Nothing to be ashamed of. I know the first time I found a boy who knew what he was doing and got fucked proper, I wanted to go all night.” She nibbled my earlobe and tongued my ear. “You know, gettin’ a girl worked up gets me worked up too, when I think about it. ‘Cause I wasn’t even tryin’ to do it.”

Her hand traced a line down to my breast. “Tell me how turned on you are.” She pinched my nipple.

“I’m so turned on, Andy.”

“Come on, say it like you mean it.” She stroked her thigh against my pussy. I clamped my legs around her thigh and flat-out humped it.

“I’m horny!”

“Getting closer.” She moved her leg in rhythm with my thrusts. My moans crescendoed until she knelt up and extricated herself from my grip. She pushed a finger into me. My lips gripped her finger without any thought, then let up, then squeezed it again.

“Stop teasing,” I begged.

“You’re winking like a mare in heat.” She tore her gaze away from my crotch to throw a smug grin my way. “You know what they always said back home? ‘I’m horny as a goat.’ I wanna hear you say it.”

“Uh, a goat?” I groaned.

She thumbed my clit. “You best say it, girl, unless you don’t want more of this.” She twisted her finger around inside me.

“All right, all right, I’m, uh, horny as a goat.”

She snickered, then broke into full out laughter.

I growled. “You just did that to embarrass me, didn’t you?” I paused to snort. “Didn’t you, you little- mmf!”

She cut my last word off with a quick kiss, then laughed again. “Sorry, Soph. You’re just so cute when you get all bashful. And even more when you get all huffy like that. Otherwise I wouldn’t bust on you all the time.”

I sighed. She gave my clit a few quick rubs until I reacted. “Plus, I can’t get over how much you want me. A few days ago, I thought it was impossible for you to get horny, and here you are begging for me to play with your pussy.”

“Please, Andy-” Simultaneously a protest and a command. She escaped beneath the covers. A second later, I felt something wet squirming on my lips. I laughed and wriggled my hips – Andy’s tongue tickled but felt so good at the same time. Then I gasped as I realized how close I was to orgasm.

Her lips tore away from mine. “No, not yet. I wanna do something for you first.” I left my eyes closed. She had gotten up from the bed, but I couldn’t tell what she was doing. “Never ate pussy before, you know? But it wasn’t too bad. Now open your eyes.”

Andy towered over me wearing the strap-on. She smiled. “We’ve been doing all this gentle stuff, and that’s nice. But there’s nothing like a good, rough fucking.”

I tensed up. “R-rough?”

“Just stop me if it hurts, Soph,” Andy said as she slipped the plastic cock into me. She took it slow at first, but soon sped up until our bodies slapped together loudly. I bit my lips as the slight pain began to turn into pleasure. Andy whispered in my ear, “I’ll make you squeal, li’l girl.”

Andy was right. There was nothing like a good, rough fucking. And I did begin to squeal in delight. Her weight pinned my tiny frame to the bed, her hands holding my arms down. The feeling of Andy overpowering me caused my mind to slip into a trance-like state. I was enveloped by pure sexual ecstasy. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I noticed I was repeating something – “Yeah, fuck me harder!”

Andy let up off my arms to gain better stability as she drove the strap-on into me with even greater force. I wrapped my arms around her back, drawing my pussy toward her, up and into her thrusts. I gripped the dildo with my swollen lips. Before long, these motions became involuntary. Orgasm gripped my entire body. My lips fluttered around the dildo. I yelped as the most intense pleasure I had ever felt overcame me. There was a moment of release, and then another build-up. I couldn’t believe that I was cumming again! Primal noises flew from my mouth as the second wave flooded through me. Finally, another release. It left me so exhausted that I simply passed out.

I awoke wrapped in Andy’s arms, feeling so warm and safe. She had fallen asleep as well. I felt some things poking into my backside. Two of them were Andy’s stiff nipples. I wondered if she was reliving what had happened a few hours ago in her dream. The other was the strap-on poking me in the butt. I could still feel the thick coating of juices I had left on it.

I slipped out of Andy’s arms and stood up. I gave my pussy a brief touch – still damp and too sensitive for further action. Andy’s clothes were scattered on the floor. Something compelled me to put them on. I threw on her shirt and jeans. They were very baggy on my skinny frame. I looked into the mirror, holding my hair back to make it look as if it were cut short. I put on one of her baseball caps to keep my hair in place.

“What are you doing in my clothes, Sophie?” Andy asked.

I squeaked, not expecting her to be awake. “I, uh -”

“I’m just wondering’s all. But you can wear whatever you want,” she said, stepping out of the strap-on. Before I could provide an explanation, she started talking again. “You know, I didn’t know you had it in you, Soph. You were squealing and begging for more the whole time. Damn near the whole building must have heard when you came.”

I blushed hard. “Was I that bad?”

Andy smiled at me while she wrapped a towel around her body. “Say, why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?”

“Sure! It’s a date!” the words burst forth. She kissed the back of my neck and then walked out to the shower.

After my initial excitement about my date with Andy died down a bit, I went back to checking myself out in the mirror. I repeated her words to myself. “You can wear whatever you want.” Something was wrong here. I took off the pants and retrieved a skirt from my closet. As much as I felt all my frills were nothing more than a costume, they had become part of me as well. I looked a bit silly in the mismatched outfit – definitely not Cosmo-approved – but it was Sophie all over.

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