Neha and Michelle

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For Women

After two long years at a community college, I transferred to UNLV and enrolled in the William F. Harrah College of Hospitality. As a transfer student, I felt behind in meeting people and making friends, and spent the first few weeks with my head down, too shy to put myself out there, sure that everybody else already knew each other and had no more space for a new friend. And I think things would’ve stayed that way for a long time if I hadn’t sat next to Michelle one day in class.

Michelle was a loud, boisterous Vietnamese girl, with jet black hair, an infectious laugh, and large boobs that were always on display. I noticed her boobs long before we ever met.

Michelle sat down next to me and without any hesitation or shame turned to me sticking out her hand and said, “I’m Michelle,”

“I’m Neha.”

“Nice to meet you, Neha. Where are you from? How long have you been here? How are you liking it?”

That is exactly how Michelle talked all the time. Three questions strung together without break. A string of thoughts spat out like machine gun fire as if she was worried if she didn’t say it all quickly she’d forget her thought before the next came. Or, more likely since she was the youngest of seven, as if she wouldn’t be able to get another word out if she didn’t fill every inch of space with her voice.

I was the complete opposite. I could sit in a room of people and never feel the need to open my mouth at all. My Indian family was not exactly strict, but women also weren’t expected to be the center of attention. It was understood that our first job was to cook the food that the men would eat first; and our second job was to clean up the food after the men had eaten; and our third job was to do it all without being noticed. All of which turned out to be great training for my future career in hospitality.

It was not, however, great training for being friends with a whirling dervish like Michelle. But maybe our opposite natures were the reason for our quick friendship, maybe the fact that I allowed Michelle the space to fill the room and the conversations with her entire personality endeared me to her. Whatever the reason, we were fast friends from then on. It turned out our apartment complexes were just blocks away, and we soon began carpooling to class, studying together in the library, working out at the Mack (whenever she could convince me) and hanging out at my apartment’s pool (Michelle’s complex was nicer, but there was no doubt my pool was the nicer of the two.)

Michelle was the recipient of constant attention from the guys at school or at the pool or pretty much anywhere we went. Almost invariably she’d just shrug it off and keep moving, keep talking, keep it just between us. I once asked her why she dressed so provocatively if she didn’t want the attention. I asked why she was constantly showing major amounts of cleavage, why her bikinis were so small, why she always wore thongs at the pool, if she didn’t want the guys to approach her. She must have known it would draw attention and guys who wanted more than just to look.

“I do want their attention,” Michelle said. “I love it. I want it all.”

“But you never like them, you ALWAYS blow them off.”

“Yeah, but choosing to blow them off is better than not having a choice. Maybe someday the right guy will come talk to me. And maybe the right guy will come talk to me despite what I’m wearing and not because of it.” After a rare pause, she said, “besides, you know girls only dress for other girls anyway,” and winked and skipped off towards my apartment, her exposed butt cheeks jiggling away from me.

After our last class of the fall semester, Michelle insisted we go out. She made reservations at Tao, and after we ate, we went upstairs to the club. I wasn’t dressed too differently from my usual attire, a flowy satin blouse, jeans and heels. Michelle went all out. She wore a black, strapless dress with a very low slit in front and an uneven hemline that perfectly revealed the tiger tattoo on her upper left thigh. I was too scared to ask, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure how she was keeping everything hidden.

We ordered a drink at one of the bars, turning down two offers from guys trying to buy us drinks, and slid our way through the crowd to the dance floor. Michelle held my hand and pulled me through the crowd, our bodies brushing against everybody. I noticed that hands would reach out and brush against Michelle, feeling her side, her butt, even her breast. She just kept going, fearlessly leading me through the swarm, and eventually we started dancing in our world. Guys would approach Michelle and eventually slink off when she paid them no mind.

After a handful of songs we were getting hot and made our way back to the bar for another drink, then slid along a wall to rest and watch the bodies move. There was a couple to my left that Michelle peered past me to watch. The guy was a tall, handsome white guy with broad shoulders and, I can never help but noticing, perfect teeth. The girl was every bit Michelle’s match, Asian, jet black hair with straight cut bangs, high heels, Gaziantep Genç Escort short, SHORT shorts, and a white t-shirt tied up at the stomach and hanging off one shoulder. She clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.

The girl was dancing in front of her man, facing him, then rubbing her ass against him, then turning around again to face him. I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his slacks when she’d create space, and I understood his reaction. This girl was all gorgeousness and sexuality. I turned to see Michelle entranced, and when the couple started making out, Michelle groaned, “ugh, it’s been foreeeeever since I had a good makeout sesh. How long has it been for you, Neha?”

“Oh, probably two years,” I laughed.

“What?” she shouted. “We have to fix that.”

I laughed again. “I’m not real comfortable making out with just anybody,” I said. “I can’t make out with someone I don’t know.”

“Then what about someone you DO know,” she asked.

“Like who?”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

“No,” I said. “Have you?”

“No.” Michelle smiled at me, then said, “But I totally would. I would totally make out with you.”

This caught me completely off guard. I had never gotten any indication that Michelle liked me. Or girls. And maybe she didn’t. I didn’t. But now that the idea had been put in my head, I had to admit, I was interested. Judging by how my heart was racing and I began tripping over my words, I was very, very interested. I couldn’t help but glance at Michelle’s lips, thin but inviting, glossy and moist. I saw her tongue mindlessly lick them before she took another sip of her drink. Seeing her lips on the thin straw got my mind whirring.

Michelle looked past me at the couple, the girl now grinding on the bent knee of the handsome man. She laughed at them and my stunned silence and grabbed my hand and said, “come on, more dancing. Let me seduce you.”

Back out on the dance floor I felt more self-conscious than at any point in my life. I was hyper aware of every step I took, every sway of my hips, my hands, my facial expression. Michelle would grab my hips and move me then bounce away, turn her back to me and push her ass back towards me, then face me again, run her hands over my arms and down my side, then separate completely, something that both relieved and disappointed me.

Eventually, too hot from the sweaty mass of bodies around us, we went out to the thin balcony outside the club, cooling off with the night air that smelled slightly sweet from cigarette smoke. We found ourselves right next to the same couple from earlier, and again they were making out, him towering over her, leaning down to kiss her, their eyes locked on each other. Michelle stared unabashedly at them for what seemed like minutes, then turned to me and let out a giant sigh.

“I want it,” she said, pouting with every word. I was too nervous to speak and avoided her eyes by looking anywhere else. I saw the couples lips part and close, a flash of tongue, saw his hand begin to move slowly from her hip, up her side, to caress her breast, then squeeze, which caused her to bite his lips in a smile of approval. I felt Michelle watching me. No, watching isn’t right. I felt her staring at me. I caved and returned her look.

“Do you want to?” she asked.

I bit my own lip, both in contemplation and in hopes it would lessen the desire. But, instead, it only increased, and the sweat from dancing, the night air, the thumping music bouncing off the windows, and this ridiculously hot couple making out for my voyeuristic enjoyment was too much for me to resist and I nodded.

Michelle took a step closer, put her arms around my neck, and slowly moved her face towards mine. I focused on her lips, too afraid to look at her eyes or any other part of her in fear of losing my nerves. Michelle’s lips parted as she got closer, and we each tilted slightly to our right, our lips pausing just momentarily a millimeter apart, before meeting in a kiss so soft and sensuous and kind that I felt like my heart was melting into my stomach. It was not desire. It wasn’t exactly love. But it was caring without question.

Our lips closed, parted again, closed again. I thought we were done when our lips closed and seemed to pucker away from each other, but then seeming to have the same desire for a little more at the same time, we each parted our mouths a little extra and our tongues meet before our lips found each other again.

As we parted I was too nervous to meet her gaze and instead turned my head to find the tall, handsome guy looking at us. “Was that your first time? he asked.” I nodded, and saw the girl smiling and biting her lip.

“That was really fucking hot,” she said, and her boyfriend nodded vigorously.

“Did you like it he asked,” looking at me first, then Michelle.

I looked at Michelle, too, suddenly curious to know as well. She looked at me and smiled and said, “ohhhhh yeah. I liked it a lot.”

I felt my face flush with heat and I couldn’t suppress a smile. Avoiding Michelle and looking instead to the couple, I managed to murmur “me, too.”

“Will you do it again,” he asked.

“Do you want to,” I asked Michelle.

In answer she put her arm on my lower back and pulled me up against her, our stomachs pressed together, and kissed me again, over, and over, and over. It was the longest string of kisses of my life, and when we finally parted, the girl was squealing with delight. She hit her boyfriend playfully and said, “Now THAT is how you kiss a girl.”

With Michelle’s hand still on my lower back keeping our midsections pinned, I leaned back to look at her, and what I saw was intense focus mixed with what I thought, hoped, was desire. I reached out with my left hand, pulled her hair away from the right side of her neck from behind, and leaned in to kiss her neck, then lick up towards her ear, my right hand reaching up to first caress, then grab her breast. I could feel her nipple pushing against the fabric, and I squeezed my palm around it, then rubbed my thumb over it as my lips took in her earlobe. I let my lips linger there and whispered, “I’ve always wanted to touch your boobs.” Michelle laughed, but thankfully not finding me ridiculous.

“Baby, you could have touched any part of me anytime you want.” I smiled at this, leaned back, and grabbed both her boobs with both my hands and saw how it pushed her cleavage up her dress, exposing more of the fullness of her breasts. I looked to see her reaction and she was smiling, clearly enjoying my enjoyment of her. I became self-conscious and dropped my hands which she caught in hers. She leaned forward, kissed me once more, then asked if I wanted to go home. I very much wanted to go home.

We held hands walking towards the exit. We faced each other and kissed riding down the escalator. She pushed me against the wall of the elevator and kissed my neck and ear until we got to our floor of the parking garage. And the entire drive home her right hand ran up and down my inner thigh, occasionally brushing against the fabric of my panties, worrying me tremendously that she would be appalled to find them wet.

I needn’t have worried. Because as soon as we parked she crawled over to my seat, unbuttoned my jeans, straddled me, and reached inside my jeans and said, “I need to know if you’re as wet as I am right now.” Her finger ran up and down my panties and I gasped with surprise and pleasure. She moaned as she bit my lip. I felt her finger leave my panties and heard, HEARD, her finger sink into her pussy then come out and slide between my lips. I closed my lips around her finger and licked off her juices, which smelled faintly fruity, and the for the very first time in my life I considered licking another girl’s pussy. In fact, at that moment, that’s the only thing I wanted. I realized I no longer wanted to kiss her. I didn’t want her to finger me, or lick my neck, or touch me anymore. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to drink her.

I pulled the lever on the side of the seat and dropped the seat back so I was nearly flat. I put my hands under her thighs and lifted her towards my face. Michelle lifted the bottom of her dress up past her thighs, and as I suspected I was greeted by her cleanly waxed pussy rather than any panties beneath her dress. She sank her hips down and put her pussy lips to my lips with my tongue fitting perfectly in between to flick upwards towards her clit. Her moan let me know I was on the right track.

Briefly, ever so briefly, I considered how just hours earlier I hadn’t had even one sexual thought about another girl, and here was my new best friend’s pussy pressed against my face with no seeming end to my desire to taste and feel her. But that gave way to a pure desire to keep pleasing my friend, not to mention distraction as Michelle had pulled down the top of her dress so it was now fully bunched up around her midsection revealing her perfect breasts to me. I lifted her hips ever so slightly up from my face and asked, “do you always go without bra and panties when you go out?”

“I wanted to feel sexy tonight,” she moaned back while sinking her hips back down and kneading her breast with her right hand as her left steadied herself on the headrest behind me. While I had never pleased a woman before, in all my other sexual encounters I was a pleaser turned on by knowing my partner felt good, and this was no different. I focused on her reactions to my tongue and tried to repeat anything that elicited a response. Eventually I found a steady rhythm on her clit that from the noises I could tell both pleased and quieted Michelle. I watched as her hand squeezed then held her breast. I felt Michelle tense and doubled down on my focused, steady rhythm, until I heard her gasp, “Oh God,” then begin shaking, her head thrown back and jerking more up than down until she was fully bent back and looking at the roof of her car.

Michelle slid down, her breasts sliding past my mouth which futilely reached out trying to get a taste of her nipple, until she was face to face with me. She was flushed, sweaty, smiling, and she opened her mouth and slid her tongue into my mouth, probing, tasting herself in my mouth. Which turned me on like no other.

“I want you too,” she said. “But I want you inside. Let’s go inside.”

Straddling me, she leaned over and grabbed the keys out of the ignition and her purse from the center console, then opened the passenger door and awkwardly stepped out into the parking lot. “Michelle, your dress,” I said. She looked down, grabbed the material and pushed it down past her hips and stepped out of it, leaving her in just her black heels. “Fuck my dress,” she said, “let’s go.” She reached in and grabbed my wrists and pulled me out of the car.

We held hands, and I watched with admiration as she boldly walked naked through the complex, her breasts firm and in place. I peeked back at her butt as it moved right and left, up and down, and I smirked, then chuckled, then outright laughed. Michelle looked at me with wonder. “What?” she asked.

I laughed again and shook my head. “I’ve got me a bad bitch.” We both laughed the rest of the way back to her apartment, and I grabbed both her ass cheeks as she slid her key into the lock. She closed the door behind me and led me to her bedroom. I went to sit down, but she held me there, kept me standing. She used my shoulder to steady herself as she took off her heels, then put her arms around me, pressed her naked body to me, and kissed me deeply. She slid my blouse over my head, then kneeled before me and pulled my jeans down, followed by my panties. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I reached down and put both on her head, massaging her scalp, as her head moved forward and I felt her hands gently nudge my thighs apart.

When her tongue hit my clit I lost all composure and simply dropped backwards. Had there not been a bed right behind me I would’ve fallen all the way to the floor, there were no motor skills available. Michelle pushed me backwards on the bed until she was able to lie on her stomach before me. I bent my knees, letting her fill that space, and her mouth found her way back to my pussy. The pleasure was intense and immediate. Maybe Michelle was a natural at cunnilingus. Maybe the situation was just so stimulating that I needed very little to succumb to pleasure. Either way, within a minute I felt my orgasm building. The thought of cumming in front of my friend, the thought of cumming ON my friend, shocked me back to reality. My eyes opened wide and I looked from the ceiling to the top of Michelle’s head, seeing it nod up and down as her tongue flicked up against my clit.

Michelle’s eyes looked up at me, her head shifting enough for me to see her tongue out of her mouth. “I’m close,” I whispered, and I saw her eyes shine and her focus returned to my clit. I closed my eyes again, grabbed the sheets in my clenched hands, and let the orgasm roll over me. Michelle’s tongue didn’t quit, still moving as my body rocked then slowed, until I had to push her head away as it became more uncomfortable than anything. I felt tears leak down my face, and I began to cry, then laugh, then cry-laugh uncontrollably. I felt exhausted and ridiculous and completely drained.

Michelle slid up to me and rolled on her side and held me. She kissed my cheek, and then my lips. “Did you feel good, baby?” she asked. I continued to cry and laugh and cough and nodded my head. “You’re so beautiful,” she said.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed out the last of my tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” she said back. I felt her roll onto her back, and opened my eyes to see her looking at me. My glance moved down her body, and I saw her reaching between her legs to touch herself. “That was so hot, baby. I’m still turned on. Can I touch myself? Is it okay? I want to feel good again, baby.”

I nodded and watched her hand. I saw her dip a finger into her pussy, then slide out and begin circling on her clit. Michelle was beautiful. She was sexy. She was pure sexiness. And watching her perfect body, watching her please herself, watching her head roll back as she let herself get into her pleasure, was enough to spike my desire again. I had never touched myself in front of anybody before. I didn’t touch myself all that often to begin with. But I had never kissed my friend before, or kissed a girl before, or felt anybody’s boobs before, or licked a pussy before, or had a girl finger me before, or had a girl lick my pussy before. So with no logical reason to hold back, I reached between my legs and began to touch myself, too.

I felt the left side of Michelle’s body pressed against my right side, her right hand between her legs, my left hand between mine. I turned my head to watch her at the same time she turned towards me, and we kissed as our hands continued to pleasure ourselves. I kept my gaze on Michelle’s face, watching her focus on what she was doing, seeing her right breast jiggle in my periphery. I felt the increase in her rhythm as I saw the intensity of her reactions, her bottom lip firmly in her teeth. I heard her start to breathe louder, begin to whimper, and I increased my pace, feeling the sensation from my pussy all the way up to my throat. Michelle gasped “I’m going to cum,” and that was enough to push me over the edge, and our orgasms hit us simultaneously.

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