by Q C Masters
Wyatt sat back in his seat, a broad scowl of disappointment painted on his round face.
“I don't know.” He looked forward, and with a dismissive tone in his voice, said, “I just don't know, Abby. Cody and Cindy are rolling in the hay. What's up with you? You never smile at me. Don't you like me?”
“Well, sure, Wyatt. But I don't really smile for anyone, and I like to move slow, you know.”
“I know. That's why I've been patient. It's been four weeks,” four fingers splayed in Abby's face, “that we've been dating. So when do I get some?”
“I don't know Wyatt. When I'm ready.”
“Oh. Well, I think I get a say, and I say now.” Wyatt reach down, unzipped his pants, and extracted his penis. Abby stared at it, horrified. It extended from between his legs like some deformed, mutant digit. If nature intended one of those things to go into Abby's body, then Abby most certainly had not gotten the memo.
“What do I have to do?” she asked.
“I want a blow job.”
A viscous nausea gripped Abby in her gut and she raced a hand to her mouth. As soon as realized that she'd be able to keep her beer down, she quaked a quick 'no' with her head.
“No?!” Wyatt shook his head in disgust. “Fine, then. A hand job at least. And if you don't, then we're through! This is it!”
Abby peered at him, her hand still covering her face. She closed her eyes and thought of Cindy. She could do this for Cindy. She extended her hand and placed it on Cody's thigh. She breathed and gathered her strength.
“Come on, you're way off!”
Without looking, she slid her hand slowly up his pants. She paused, then faced away and covered her eyes.
“Jee-zhus! It's a cock! It's not going bite you!”
She slid her hand further, reaching the cusp of his opened zipper. Her throat constricted. She battled resistant fingers, forcing them to crawl over the zipper edge. She could feel his heat now, pulsing energy through the air, almost touching. Her every instinct screamed to her how very wrong this was, but she fought to go on. Her palm extended, fingers opening now, ready to grip, but slowing to a frozen state at the point of contact.
“Good God! Abby, just do it!”
Her stomach turned over within, she clenched her teeth, and grabbed the fleshy shaft.
“Yeah!”
She release it and retreated to the far corner of the cab.
“What the Hell? Goddammit, Abby! All I'm asking for is what any reasonable boyfriend would want. Is it just too damned much?”
Abby buried her face against the window in abject humiliation.
“Well, fine! If that's the way you're going to be I can find someone else who knows how to have a little fun!”
Abby sequestered her soiled hand between her legs and wiped her tears with the other. “I'm sorry,” she said meekly, so softly, that it may have been directed to herself.
“What? What's that? It's too late for apologies.”
The truck engine revved high. Wyatt peeled out.
He was on a mission to unload his passenger.
Apology
Cindy's face drooped like a watercolor painting in the rain. “Tell me you didn't.”
Abby nodded ruefully. She had put off her confession until she could catch up with Cindy the next day. She hoped that the news wouldn't reach her before Abby did. It hadn't. She'd called and driven over first thing in the morning. Now, they sat in Abby's truck outside the Sunny Side Up, their favorite cafe and hangout.
“I'm sorry, Cindy. I just couldn't do it. I wanted to. I just can't... I just don't like Wyatt that way.”
“You don't have to like him. You just need to have a little fun. Lighten up. Live a little. You don't want to wake up a thirty-year-old virgin.”
Abby responded with a scowl. “What are you talking about?”
“You're too high strung. You need to get some experience, and then it'll all be easier for you.”
Abby's eyes drifted to the floor as she recalled the previous night's events. “You know, I thought about that when I was with him. But as soon as I touched his... thing... yeck!” She shook her head in disgust.
“Was something wrong with it?”
“I don't know.” She shrugged. “I don't think so. Aren't they all that revolting?”
Cindy's eyes popped in amazement. “Cocks?”
“Well, yeah.”
“No!”
“That's what they tell you in health class.”
Cindy shifted again and stared at Abby, mystified. “You mean all that bullshit about how girls think guys' junk is gross? You didn't buy that crap, did you?”
Abby blinked, then shrugged.
“Abby, they only tell that to the guys to knock them down a notch, you know, to make them feel self-conscious and keep it in their pants. We girls know better... don't we?”
Abby watched her uncomfortably, but stayed silent.
Cindy's hand flew over her mouth. “Oh, my God! You're gay!”
Abby frowned in horror and shook her head. “No, I'm not.”
“You hate cocks. You don't even like guys. You're a tomboy.”
“No,” Abby mumbled unconsciously.
“Most of your friends are guys.” Cindy paused. She watched Abby visibly shrivel before her eyes. “Abby, it's okay. There's nothing wrong with being gay. My cousin's gay. He's awesome.”
Abby trembled and looked to the distance, trying to contain the abyss looming inside her. Tears filled her eyes. “You don't understand. It's okay for anyone else. It's not okay for me.”
“Why not?”
The look Abby gave Cindy at that comment was one of dread, loathing, confusion, and pain. “You heard my dad. He'd disown me. He thinks gays are Satan spawn. It would kill him. Cindy, you can't tell anyone. No one can ever know.”
Cindy took her hand. “I'll do whatever you want, Abby. It's your decision.”
Abby threw her head into her hands and sobbed.
“Whatever happens, I'm here for you, okay?”
Abby nodded meekly. Cindy stroked her hair for several minutes.
“You're okay, Abby.”
Suddenly she quieted. She lifted her head and looked at Cindy.
“But it may not be true. Maybe I'm just afraid to have sex. Maybe I'm just a prude.”
Cindy gave her a wry grimace. “Maybe. But remember when I ragged on Jordan Cooper? She's a lesbian. You defended her.”
“I just said I respected her individuality.”
Cindy sat up. “Yeah... well... maybe you like her.”
“What?!” Abby shouted much too loud. A couple leaving the cafe turned in astonishment toward the truck. Abby stared at them defiantly for a few silent moments before returning to the conversation.
Cindy shrugged, and then said, “Well, if you're gay, then maybe you're attracted to her.”
“Oh, God. My head is spinning.”
Cindy squeezed Abby's hand. “Are you okay?”
“No!”
“Well, like I was saying, maybe you like her. Do you think about her? Try to remember. How do you feel about her?”
Abby hung her mouth in anguish. Tears leaked from her eyes. She wished to God she could crawl out of her skin and disappear.
“The only thing I feel right now is sick.”
Cindy moved to Abby's side and wrapped her arms around her wounded friend.
“Then just forget about everything. Just relax, Abby. I'm here.”
Abby broke down and cried.
Tantalizing
Cindy took Abby home with her and they spent the rest of the day together. She arrived home late that night. She crept timidly into the house and into the hallway. She could hear the sounds of her father cleaning his pistol in the kitchen. She peeked around the corner to view him at a distance. She would have preferred to sneak up to bed, but house protocol mandated a checkin.
“Hi, dad.”
“Abby, is that you? Why don't you come in here and give your dad a proper greeting?”<
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“Um. I don't feel so good. I think I'm just going to go to bed.”
“Oh. All right. See you in the morning.”
She watched him for a few moments, and imagined the fury her news would conjure from him.
On Monday, Abby sat in class, reflecting on Sunday's conversation. Could it actually be true? She knew of a few people at school who were gay, like Jordan, but had never talked to any of them. Could she be one of those people? Could she be like them? But she would still be herself. What did that even mean?
They'd always been those strange people who did those strange things. But suddenly, those people weren't just two-dimensional. Now, Abby might be one of them, and she might do those strange things too. Things like – kissing girls. Could she do that? Did it sound appealing? Maybe it did. She wasn't sure though. She had to sort this out, or she was going to be in limbo forever, or worse, go crazy.
At lunch, she told the ROTC group she had some homework to finish and slipped across the school to the back where the goths hang at lunch. There were others here and there, so she was not completely out of place.
Abby sat in the sunshine near the back door, propped herself up against the concrete, and enjoyed her sack lunch. Jordan's group gathered next to the auxiliary classrooms about fifty yards away. Abby tried to be discreet about her glances.
Jordan sat on an A/C unit above the group, smiling down at them as if she was their leader. Abby pursed her lips. Perhaps she was.
The young woman was magnificent. Her choice of wardrobe never disappointed. Today, she wore black leggings and knee high platform boots. A purple ribbed corset thinned her waist and lifted her bust. Her jet black hair fell over bare shoulders, and was accented by purple lace generously tied in amongst her locks.
For such a dark character she seemed remarkably perky, smiling at her friends and pointing now and then. She posed on her perch and exuded feminine confidence.
Was she attracted to this girl? Could she kiss her?
Abby imagined herself sitting next to Jordan, laughing along with the crowd. She slipped a virtual arm over Jordan's shoulder. She leaned into her carefully disheveled hair. She nuzzled her cheek until Jordan turned and their lips meet.
Abby eased into the warmth of the concrete. Her knees fluttered as her imaginary engagement advanced. She slipped a hand onto her belly and licked her lips.
Suddenly, she sat up and looked around, alarmed. No one seemed to have noticed. She packed up the remainder of her lunch and finished in the cafeteria.
She definitely got aroused. But was she doing that to herself? Was it all just imaginary? She'd have to explore further to find out.
True Test
Abby still wasn't certain of her sexuality. What would be a convincing test? What would settle the issue once and for all? She wasn't sure, but until she figured it out, she wanted to keep her eye on Jordan.
Against her better judgement, Abby decided to pass by Jordan's locker between second and third period when she knew both Abby and Jordan had some time. She'd already done this twice this week, and somewhere deep inside she knew it was risky, but she decided to go ahead anyway.
She peeked around the corner. Jordan and some of her entourage were there at their lockers. Jordan looked incredible. She had on a satin military coat with double breasted buttons. Everything about it was black. About her hips sprung a fluffy black skirt. Her legs slid in sexy black stockings.
Abby leaned back and took a breath. The plan, she thought. Focus. As before, she'd pass by, down the hall, and into the empty band room for a while. Then she'd wait a while and return the same way.
Abby took a few steps back. She stood up straight, then began an even walk forward, passing around the corner and into Jordan's hallway. She darted a few glances nonchalantly. Then she entered the band room. She checked her watch. She'd wait, say, seven minutes.
Abby sat down in one of the chairs. She fiddled with the music stand in front, tipping it one way, then the other. She checked her watch again. Two minutes to go. Close enough.
She got up and walked to the door, but it swung open on its own.
Jordan Cooper stepped through looking like she owned the place. Abby froze in a motionless panic. She looked around the empty room, then directed her focus to the tall redhead.
“Who are you?”
“Abby Smith.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I... came... to...”
Jordan nodded as if in victory. “I've seen you looking.” She flicked her wrists to showcase her body. “You like this?”
“What?! No!”
“So you're not a lez?”
“No!”
“You sure?”
Abby procured the most offended looking face she could possibly imagine.
“Fine. So you wouldn't mind proving it.”
“Huh?”
“You wouldn't mind proving that you're not gay.”
Abby looked at her like she'd just sprouted Cheez-Whiz limbs. She passed by Jordan and put a hand to the door.
“Don't leave. I'll tell everyone in the school that we slept together.”
“You can't do that!”
“Just pass my test.”
Abby paused, then looked over her shoulder. “What's the test?”
“It's easy. You do what I say for four minutes. After that if you still say you're straight, then you pass.”
Abby turned to look at her. “That's it?”
“Yeah, but you gotta do what I say.”
Abby thought for a moment. Maybe Jordan would have the test Abby needed. Abby turned and crossed her arms in defiance. “Fine.”
“Good. Meet me at lunch at the temporary classrooms.”
Jordan slipped by and through the door.
Abby descended the steps. She looked to see that Jordan was with her group, perched on the A/C unit as usual. She looked up as Abby approached. She dismounted and led Abby around the last classroom and up the stairs.
“Come in. Don't be shy.”
Abby stepped into the empty classroom.
Jordan turned and sat back onto a student desk.
“So what's the test? You gonna ask me some questions or something?”
Black lipstick lips curved to a grin. She enunciated each syllable. “Not exactly.” Jordan lifted her fingers to the top buttons of her coat and began to unfasten them one by one.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“I'm starting the test. You do want to pass the test, don't you?”
Abby stared frozen. Her heart beat in her chest. Jordan's fingers had progressed halfway down her torso. It was only a matter of time before the elaborate garment peeled from her body.
“You can't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Stop it.”
Jordan had almost run out of buttons.
“Wait!”
Jordan stopped. “What?”
“Please, don't.”
“Willing to admit that you're a lesbian now?”
“I am not!”
The last button popped and Jordan's coat fell from her body. Her creamy, pale form shone luminous in the dim of the room. Her chest boasted two perfect, shallow breasts, each with a light golden nipple that drew Abby's attention to them. An instant twinge gripped Abby between the legs, followed by a hot secretion that gave her her answer in ultimate certainty.
Jordan moved with a sublime grace to free her arms from the black satin, then reclined on the desk again.
“Feel me up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Fondle my tits. That's the test, Abby. At least, that's the first part.”
“First part? How any parts are there?”
“Just two. Do this, and you're halfway done.”
Abby covered her face and breathed deeply. “For how long?”
“Two minutes. I'll time you.” Jordan produced her phone and set it down on the desk. “I'll start it when you start.”
Abby to
ok one last sigh and moved forward. She closed her eyes and positioned her open hands in front of Jordan. She closed her eyes again, and the hands moved forward.
Fingers pressed into soft, velvety skin and Abby heard the beep of Jordan's timer.
She swallowed. The nipple gripped the skin of her palm as she moved across, squeezed, and twisted.
Jordan breathed deep and sighed.
Abby tapered her fingers together, trapping the luscious areoles within.
“Mmmmm....” sighed Jordan. “Twist my nipples.”
Abby complied, turning her delicate tips back and forth.
Jordan's head rolled to the side, obscuring her face under black strands. She released a soft moan that called to Abby like a siren's song. She held Jordan's bust and softly caressed the pair within her fingers.
She was almost disappointed to hear the beep sound off.
“That's two minutes. Can you resist?”
“Yes.”
“Sure you don't need more?”
“Yes, Jordan,” said Abby doing her best not to betray the lust bubbling under the surface of her skin.
“Fine, then. You did a great job. If you're not hot yet, you certainly got me wet.” She looked at Abby and tilted her head in evaluation. “Okay, then you're half done. Pass this next part and you're free as a bird”
Jordan rocked back on the desk. She lifted up her skirt and procured a wisp of a set of panties that she slid from her legs. Abby's eyes bulged.
“What the heck?”
“This is the second part. You fondled high. Now you fondle low.”
“No friggin' way.”
“You do want to prove you're not gay, right?”
“'Course!”
“This is the way. If you can play with my pussy for two minutes and stand firm, then you're done. That's all. You're almost there, Abby. You can do it.”
With that, Jordan rolled back on the desk. Her legs raised high and wide lifting her skirt off her thighs. Abby could see it all.
It was perfect, a sculpture of natural art. The two ridges of her labia majora lined the outside like ridges of a canyon. At the top of the canyon, the bud of her clitoris peeked from its hood, engorged in arousal. The labia minora met below in a pucker that suggested a kiss, further enhanced by the glossy, wetness that coated her femininity from ridge to ridge. And there was no denying now. It was a kiss Abby craved. Jordan had a beautiful vulva.