Page 14 of Surfer Girl

“Because I just found out my student visa didn’t get renewed, and I have to go back to France. You have less than one minute now!”

“You’re French?” was all Sophie could write back. She smirked; that explained the unconventional underarm situation.

“Yes, have you ever been with a French woman before?”

“I’ve only been with one woman before. I think she was from Maine.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and wrote back with a curious, cryptic smile: “This is your last chance to see a French woman’s pussy, up close and personal. Time’s up!” She shoved the notebook back before standing, abruptly, and waltzing straight from the room, as promised.

Sophie watched her go, heart pounding, staring at the words scrawled at the bottom of her notebook page. All the same, she waited a full minute before standing and following her out. The instructor never stopped talking. She wasn’t even sure he noticed.

Murphy Dorm wasn’t far away, but Sophie was still out of breath when she knocked on Door #218. And knocked. And knocked. Astrid never answered, so she twisted the doorknob and gently pressed the door open. As if posing for Sophie’s pleasure, her classmate sat, legs crossed, blouse gauzy and see-through, on top of a desk facing the door. Peering at the room, Sophie noted the packed bags and blank walls, as if Astrid was indeed on the way out.

She wore a satisfied smile and her breezy, Bohemian outfit from class.

“Lucky girl,” she said, voice low and, yes, vaguely French. It was the first time Sophie had heard her speak. The accent, and the desire, were impossible to ignore. “You only had a minute left.”

Sophie shut the door behind her with a resoundingclickthat nearly scared her out of her pants. “Maybe I was just playing hard to get.”

Astrid nodded back at her with a satisfied grin. “That why you’re flushed and out of breath, Sophie?”

Sophie inched closer with an air of confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Like you said, my last chance to be with a foreigner.”

Astrid chuckled, then glanced away. “Before you get too excited, I’m only French Canadian.”

They laughed until the moment Astrid reached down to unbutton her blouse. There was a chair between her legs, facing her, as if hastily positioned there just before Sophie arrived. Astrid nodded toward it as she continued to unbutton her blouse with slow, reckless abandon. Sophie nodded and sank down into it, loins on fire and panties wet against the chair’s plastic molded surface.

Astrid finished unbuttoning her blouse and carefully folded it before setting it behind her on the desk. Her breasts were sleek and luminous and small, the nipples nearly as big as they protruded, rosy pink and desperate to be touched.

“Go on,” Astrid suggested, a commanding air to her tone as she reached for Sophie’s hands. “You can touch them if you want.”

Sophie nodded and did just that. Her lover’s skin was warm and soft and supple as Astrid writhed and murmured encouragement that soon became demands. “Pinch that one. Lick that one. No, harder. Yes, yes…softer now, yes, oh God, Sophie, yes!”

In moments Astrid had yanked her skirt up to reveal wispy blonde pubes that did little to hide the swollen pink mound between her legs. With the same commanding tone, she guided Sophie’s touch, left, right, up, down, harder, faster, until she climaxed one, two, three times. The minute she was finished, Astrid yanked her skirt back over her legs and stood, abruptly, reaching for her blouse. She leaned down and, with a quick, tender kiss, said, “Thanks, Sophie. That was…more than adequate.” With that, she finished dressing, grabbed the handles of her two overstuffed bags, and simply…walked out of the dorm room.

And, apparently, Sophie’s life.

Sophie had sat there, stunned. She had waited a minute or two for Astrid to return, tell her she was only joking, and yank her clothes off to return the favor. But when that never happened, Sophie slid her hand inside her yoga pants and pleasured herself quickly before paranoia set in and she worried someone might walk into the empty dorm room at any moment. After two or three mediocre climaxes she stood, washed her hands in the dorm sink, and left, never to return to Murphy Dorm again.

It had been a long, frustrating dry spell since then, which was probably why Sophie had been so desperate to race out and “catch” Jessie in the shower that morning. Now, the echoes of ecstasy still shuddered through her sweaty body as she admired Jessie’s naked form as she sat at the foot of the leather settee.

Her pale skin was slick with sweat, nipples hard and taut atop her pert, perky breasts. There was a small, exploding firecracker tattoo to the left of and below her belly button, just above the wispy auburn patch of damp pubic hair that lay nestled above the hint of her wet, glossy labia. It must’ve been hidden beneath the waistband of her bikini.

Sophie nodded before she could forget the question. “I…I’ve never done that before,” she stammered, watching breathlessly as Jessie approached.

She smirked, shaking her head. “Me either,” she admitted before sliding one knee onto the couch cushion. “But there’s no one I’d like to try it with more than you, Sophie.”

Sophie had never felt so adored before. It was in the way Jessie’s eyes caressed her every curve, bump, dip, and ridge. She slid the other knee onto the cushion, one on either side of Sophie’s left leg. She rested her hands, palms down, on Sophie’s still trembling thighs, gently inching herself closer until at last her right thigh was flush with Sophie’s mound.

Awkwardly at first, Jessie gripped her sweaty hips and turned them slightly, inching closer still until at last their tender buds caressed one another in the hinge where their flesh met. Sophie had been certain she would never come again, that there was no juice left in the tank after what Jessie had done to her with her fingers, lips, and that devilish, expert tongue of hers. But now she felt the familiar flicker of lust throb and tremble in her aching belly, more quickly than she ever thought possible.

Jessie was athletic and limber and gently ground her clit against Sophie’s as expertly as if they’d done this a thousand times before. She dug her fingers into the flesh of Jessie’s writhing hips as she guided her up and down, lower and slower, faster and slicker as the heat intensified steadily, achingly and, above all, inevitably.

The silken feel of her slick, wet petals made Sophie gasp with delight. Amid all her sticky, awkward fumblings with Chantel that holiday weekend in her dorm, to say nothing of her one-sided finger fest with Astrid, they had never once come close to grinding themselves, sex against sex, the way Jessie rasped and dragged her fiery mound against Sophie’s own.

And then, the union took a gentle turn, Sophie almost there, Jessie perhaps sensing it, and sliding her hands from Sophie’s waist to rest them on the armrests on either side of her. Pinned to the love seat, Sophie felt the exquisite bliss of anticipation as she waited for what might happen next—and how often.

Leaning forward, Jessie didn’t just kiss Sophie but smothered her with her mouth, so desperate and wanton an embrace it left them both breathless and gasping when they finally came up for air, only for Jessie to cover her mouth with her own once more. Perhaps that was the point, Sophie thought as, lips bound together, panting and moaning in and out of each other’s mouths, Jessie pressed her aching bud against Sophie’s and gently ground them toward what they both sensed would be mutual climax.

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