Lesbian | Self Pleasure
She’s Caught in the (Sister) Act
Ever been interrupted while you were indulging in a little self pleasure?
Did your sister catch you playing the mandolin or has a flatmate walked in on you flicking the bean? I’m Beverley and I take my self pleasuration very seriously, and I’ve stored some lush mental images in my spank bank to help the process along.
Just recently, a girl I see around the university campus is filling my thoughts and fantasies, giving me regular wide ons. She has jet black hair, which falls half-way down her back in waves. I love how she dresses, outsize sweats and baggy jeans, which only serve to emphasize her tiny waist. She always has perfectly manicured nails, matching the bright reds and pinks she chooses to her lipstick. Ooof. I’d love to plant a kiss on her luscious lips.
I was hurrying out of the computer lab the other day (too many caramel lattes) when I ran headlong into this girl. We literally bounced off each other, sending her folders and text books flying. I’d been desperate to find a way to introduce myself to this queen, but not like a fool! My face was beet red as I scuttled to pick up her possessions and load them back into her arms.
“I’m so sorry, what a klutz I am,” I could barely look at her.
“It’s no problem.”
Her voice was sweet, with a lisp; I nearly melted.
When we both grabbed the same book, our fingers brushed. I know it’s corny, but art reflects life, right? I was in free fall, drowning in hazel eyes, flecked with gold.
“I’d better run, but perhaps I can buy you a coffee later, to make up for this?”
I gestured to her books and wrinkled my nose, my bestie calls it my “Thumper” face (y’know, the rabbit from Bambi).
“No need, honestly.” She paused, and my heart began to sink at the rejection. “But coffee would be nice.”
I grinned like an idiot then, and she moved on. I dashed into the ladies, fist punching the air. Who dares wins — I’d scored a casual date.
I’m imagining her spread out on my bed, with me kneeling to kiss her thighs, my lips brush golden skin which is soft like a peach. Her relaxed posture, and the delicate warmth of her pussy, conspire, coaxing me to explore. I’m licking gently, on a stealth mission to capture her jewel and assault it with my teasing tongue.
While I lick and suck my way towards paradise, she traces lazy circles around her nipples, which stiffen within the satin cups of her bra. I lap more insistently at her engorged clit. As I focus on my task, her breaths become ragged and she moans my name.
“Beverley! Stop — Arrgh, my eyes!”
It’s my sister’s shrill voice, making my eyes snap open.
“What are you doing?” I yell, yanking my hand from my knickers and ducking under the duvet.
“No, what are you doing? Don’t answer that, I could see for myself.” Elvira huffs and continues to barge into my room.
She bends to unplug the hair straighteners, then turns on her heel and leaves.
No privacy in this house, and no keeping possessions to yourself. I glance at the clock, realizing I haven’t time to finish what I started. I throw off the covers and jump in the shower. To get my revenge on Elvira, I grab her red leather jacket as I leave the house — it finishes my outfit off nicely.
All morning I have my eyes peeled for the girl of my dreams, but I don’t see her. I eat lunch in the campus cafe, with my friends, watching the door. It’s nearly time for my lecture to start, when she shoulders open the door and scans the room.
I’m out of my seat like something spiked me, and hurrying over, as she picks up a tray.
“Hi.”
She smiles at me, a heart stopping moment.
“Hi, it’s Beverley, right?”
Because she knows who I am, I try not to gawp like a fish.
“That’s right, but I didn’t catch your name.”
Her grin is wide and infectious, “Asha.”
It suits her perfectly, and for a moment all my chat flies out of reach, while I contemplate the beautiful girl in front of me.
“Well Asha, can I meet you later? At Starbucks? What time do you finish?”
As we are both free at five, the date is agreed. I float off to my lecture, leaving my girl having a late lunch. But I can’t concentrate. All afternoon, instead of learning Python, my mind keeps wandering.
I see Asha’s dainty hand snaking under the edge of silk panties, gazing at me with intent as she circles them round, before drawing it to her mouth to suck her fingers clean, one by one.
My own panties grow steadily damper, my entrance throbbing with hunger induced by the thoughts in my head. Oh the things I will do to Asha when I get her alone — slowly teasing her smooth slit with feather-light fingers until her hips begin to buck and nudge at me to go further, dip deeper.
I grind my own pussy against the hard nodule of the seam of my jeans, wishing I’d climaxed this morning, because it’s been like edging ever since.
If I laid Asha back on the table, pushing the tangle of monitors and keyboards aside, then I’d drag her hips until her legs spread and hung off the edge. Her smooth pussy would be mine to nibble and lick, to savor the taste of her honeyed juices as I probed her depths with one questing finger, then two.
She’d sigh and writhe, gasping out my name as she begged for more, faster, harder.
“Beverley, Beverley, Oh! Give it to me Beverley!”
“Beverley, snap out of it!”
My reverie is interrupted by a male voice, my lab partner, Shane.
“What’s with you mate? You’ve been dreaming all session.”
“Oh sorry, got a lot on my mind.” I feel sheepish, that whole lesson slipped through the gaps.
“Are you coming back tonight to work on the project?” He asks.
“Yes definitely.”
I don’t want to let him down, but I have to meet Asha. “See you back here at six thirty?”
I dive into the ladies, to freshen up before we meet. I’m cutting it fine, but I won’t think straight if I remain thirsty. I slam into a stall, locking the door behind me, and push my backpack against it.
I lower my kecks and knickers and begin to stroke my moist slit, closing my eyes so that I can concentrate. As I soothe and pleasure my fleshy folds, I hear sighing. Man! My imagination is working overtime today.
I’m teasing the edge of my clit with the tip of my finger, when there’s a soft moan, which I know I heard for real. The sighs become pants, making me chuckle to myself. Someone else is Jilling off. No shame in that. I redouble my efforts, biting my lip to stay silent, and succeeding most of the time.
Their orgasm and mine are almost in sync, and I sit, legs splayed while my throbs recede. Having wiped my pruning fingertips on the tissue paper, I dab myself dry and pull my clothes back in place.
As I step out of the stall, shouldering my bag, I move to the basins to wash my hands. I’m startled to see Asha, who looks flushed, doing the same.
I think we both know what just happened, and the fact that we heard each other, and climaxed in tandem, means we have a sexy secret. I know I’m smirking, I can see it in the mirror, but she’s grinning broadly too.
“Let’s grab that coffee, shall we?” she says.
“After you,” I gesture, and Asha leads the way.
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