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I honestly didn’t expect my second year of college to differ greatly from the first. Classes scheduled to begin around midday, parties on the weekends, various guys (or girls!) to occupy my evenings, a job (eventually) to cover the expenses my parents wouldn’t – the usual. I was nearly done unpacking my stuff a couple hours after I’d arrived. Then I met my new roommate.
We’d been sharing the dorm room for exactly five seconds when I noticed Julie’s lips. They were beautiful, wonderfully full. These lips made you want to touch them, to feel them touch you… I looked away, not wanting to scare her. In an attempt to disguise my thoughts, I made casual chitchat. I noted happily that she seemed very open and willing to share details about herself with me.
“So, is it scary skipping your freshman year, brainiac?” I teased as I finished my unpacking by dumping bras and panties in the top dresser drawer. I slid my empty suitcase under my bed, and flopped down on my stomach, watching Julie. She was systematically arranging ceramic knick-knacks on her dresser. When she had them positioned to her liking she opened the top drawer and began unloading folded t-shirts from a nearby box.
She smiled and blushed, “I’m used to being in classes with older kids” she said, “I’ve been skipping grades since kindergarten. But I didn’t skip it; I took all my classes online this summer. I have as many credits as every other sophomore does.” She ducked her head when she saw me watching her. I watched as pajamas went into a drawer just as neatly as the shirts had.
“Exactly how old are you?” I asked, thinking she was maybe a year younger than I.
“I just turned 18” she said, and giggled as my mouth dropped open. I looked at her again, more closely. She fidgeted under my gaze, focusing intently on straightening socks she’d just placed in her top drawer. “You’re 20, right?” I nodded, thinking I should have read the ‘Roommate Fact Sheet’ the Housing office had sent me earlier that summer. It was disconcerting knowing less about her than she did me.
“Well, you look older than 18 – you’ll pass for a regular old sophomore,” I said. “You’re a pretty cute kid, though. Have lots of boyfriends back home?” I asked, wanting to know if she had any girlfriends, either.
Julie shook her head, causing her glossy black hair to fly about. “I’ve never really been interested in guys,” she said, coming and sitting on the end of my bed. “They’re all only after sex, and most of ’em are too dumb to talk to,” she finished with a smirk. She tucked her hair behind her ears and went on, “I have a sister who is 7 years older than me, so I learned early on how guys can be, if you LET them.”
I nodded in agreement. “You seem much wiser than most 18 year olds,” I said. “But sex isn’t such a bad thing, you know. It can be good for you, if you keep your head out of the clouds, and don’t fall for the lines guys try to hand you. Have you even HAD sex yet?” I asked in the most unconcerned tone I could manage.
The silence that followed gave me my answer. “It’s not a big deal hun, in fact it’s good you didn’t give your cherry to just any jerk. The first time should be special, not something you regret later,” I said. Watching her, I could feel her embarrassment, and wanted to make her feel better.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to. Let’s trade make up. I love that lipstick you’ve got on,” I said heading for my cosmetic case. My exhaustive stash of beauty supplies left nothing to the imagination. Most of my friends joked that I should have stock in Revlon.
“It’s new,” she said pulling a tube of shiny gloss out of her pocket, “it’s called ‘Lush’. Everyone’s always saying I have lush lips,” she blushed slightly at this.
“And everyone is right, they are lush. Very full and pouty. I bet you don’t even have to use lipliner, do you?” She shook her head no as I sat beside her on the bed. “Let’s see what that looks like on me; here you put it on,” I said moving my face closer to hers and parting my lips slightly.
She hesitated for a moment, then blinked, looked in my eyes, and smiled. “I used to play beauty salon with my cousin when I was about 13; we always had so much fun making each other up,” she said as she opened the lipstick. “Maybe we could do hair, too?”
I smiled and nodded at her. “I love it when someone plays with my hair; you may regret that offer,” I joked, motioning towards my out of control cloud of hair. “I don’t even try styling anymore; it’s got a mind of it’s own!” She giggled as I shook my head, making my hair fly about.
She leaned forward and lightly touched my lips with the smooth tip of the lipstick. I opened my mouth a bit more, and she pulled the color back and forth across my lips. She pulled it away and studied my mouth, wiping away a smudge with her pinky finger.
I pursed my lips together as I glanced in the mirror she held before me. “Very good,” I said, smiling casino oyna at her. She beamed. “Now, I want some of this” I said handing her a deep, purple eyeliner. She took it from me, and unhesitatingly began to apply it to my lids. I felt a delicious tingle of anticipation when she leaned over, her hand lightly touching my cheekbone. I placed my hand beside her hip, so that it was touching her, and did not move it. She had no visible reaction to this, and that pleased me. She wasn’t so timid as I’d first suspected.
Slowly but carefully, each time I told her which task to perform I made my tone a little less soft and solicitous, a little more serious and forceful. With each task she completed, I smiled at her and told her how well she’d done. I could tell she enjoyed the praise.
After she’d “made me up” I told her how much I’d enjoyed it. “It’s nice to be pampered every now and then,” I continued. “Ready to wash my hair now?” I laughed teasingly.
She smiled, and grabbed for her bathroom tote. “I have the greatest almond scented shampoo!” she cried. “Can I try to straighten your hair?” She asked, eyeing my naturally curly, shoulder length tresses.
“Sure,” I replied, smiling. “It’s something I have never been able to do, but I love the way it looks. I’d love it.”
I followed her to the bathroom we were lucky enough to have sole use of. Most of the other rooms on the floor had to share theirs with an adjoining room. We positioned a chair in front of the sink, and I sat while Julie gathered a towel and washcloth. It felt comfortable, as if we were old friends doing stuff we’d always done together.
A few minutes later, I was relaxing, enjoying the soothing scent of the shampoo and the feeling of her fingers massaging my scalp. Her large breasts brushed against my shoulder every now and then as she scrubbed and rinsed my hair, which only served to make me feel more wound up. I wanted to reach up and caress her; I knew that would scare her… this soon, anyway.
After my hair was clean and conditioned, Julie arranged all sorts of styling products and tools on her dresser. I took a seat in her desk chair, with the towel around my shoulders. She went to work combing out my hair, and began asking me very timid questions about guys.
I tried not to grin too much; I didn’t want her to think I was making fun of her. Her questions were so cute, so naïve. I very vaguely filled her in on the 14 or 15 boyfriends I’d had since I began dating at the age of 15. I mostly focused on the bad ones, hoping to relay to her what kinds of guys to stay away from. I tiptoed around the area of sexual experience, because I wasn’t sure if that’s what she was asking. I made certain not to mention my experiences with girls. Even though I wasn’t ashamed of the experimentation, I had no idea how she felt about girl-on-girl action, so I thought it best to wait until a later time to share those stories. To finish up, I told her basically what I was looking for now was a friend, and if things turned into more later, so be it.
Julie cranked up the hair dryer, and we didn’t talk for the next 10 minutes or so. We were both lost in thought. Our eyes met in the dresser mirror a few times, and we’d both smile before breaking the stare. When she turned the dryer down to low, she asked me a couple things about how I preferred my hair, if I had a special product I wanted her to use. Another 10 minutes and she was singing, ‘ta-daaa!’ while I ran my hands through my now-straightened hair. I laughed and hugged her as I thanked her.
Blushing, Julie told me she’d enjoyed doing my hair, and would love to play with my hair any time I wanted. She seemed to want to say something more, but the phone by my bed rang, and interrupted her. There was a gleam in her eyes that told me we’d definitely talk more later.
The first few weeks of my sophomore year passed in a frenzy. I spent the majority of my time adjusting to new classes, new professors, new routines and my new roommate. Feeling a bit like a big sister, I took some time out about once a week to make sure Julie wasn’t having any trouble finding her way around or acclimating. Surprisingly, she fell right into place, and felt very at home on campus.
Julie and I were becoming fast friends, but there were awkward moments. We had so many things in common that it seemed like we’d been friends for years. Still, there were incidents when the unfamiliarity was overwhelming. It was the little things that made us remember we were virtual strangers. In the uneasy times, I usually took charge and let Julie follow my lead. She seemed very comfortable doing so, and told me more than once that she admired the way I ‘directed’ things.
One day I needed to pee while she was showering, and I could tell it freaked her out when I opened the door and announced my intent. She didn’t say much at the time, but I noticed an unusual silence in our room over the course of that afternoon. I brought it up jokingly, canlı casino to let her know it wasn’t such a big deal. She ended up laughing it off when I pointed out that I hadn’t flushed.
Another time, I terrified her by waking up and rolling over to talk to her, one morning as she got dressed. She yelped when she realized I was awake, and scurried to the bathroom with her shirt pressed to her chest. She came back out fully clothed a few minutes later, looking sheepish and muttering about me not scaring her like that.
Because our schedules were drastically different, we only spent about 2 hours in the room at the same time – every night just before going to bed. Julie’s classes started much earlier than mine, so I tended to be up for a while after she dozed off, and she was usually gone by the time I awoke in the mornings. Unless one of us had to make a trip to the library or something, we spent nearly every weekday evening discussing our respective days.
On Saturdays we’d take our clothes to the laundry room together, and chat while we fluffed and folded. My nightly schedule on weekends tended to consist of a club or party at one of the dorms, while Julie stayed holed up in our room, under the pretense of studying. I tried to persuade her to come along, but she seemed very reluctant to begin exploring the local nightlife.
It was almost October before Julie expressed any interest on accompanying me to any of the many soirees which I frequently attended. We were trading back massages before bed when I mentioned a party I’d been invited to attend. Julie casually asked who was going to be there, but this minute amount of interest was greater than any she’d expressed before. I knew she was ready.
I began my campaign the next day. I didn’t let up until Julie agreed to go “just for a little while.” I guaranteed her I’d stay with her if we went, and that we’d have a good time. Laughingly, she pondered getting drunk with me and confessed to never having done so before. I responded with a laugh and reassurances that I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Little did I know what that evening would have in store for us.
The night of the party arrived, and we prepared for the evening by helping each other get dressed. We stood in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door and admired our sexy yet demure look. Julie giggled nervously at the prospect of her first college party. Laughing, I took her by the hand and we headed out the door.
A few hours later we were back at the door to our room. Standing outside, Julie hopped from one foot to the other, urgently pleading with me, “Oh god, hurry! I am going to go in my pants!”
I laughed, and continued searching in my purse for my keys. “I told you not to drink that last beer before we left, didn’t I?”
She slumped against the wall, and tried another tactic – grasping her crotch with both hands and squeezing her thighs together. “If I make it, I will never ignore your alcoholic expertise again, I swear!” she said sarcastically. “You were supposed to be ‘babysitting’ me, anyway, so it’s not MY fault!”
“Aha!” I cried, triumphantly as I found the key to our room. I slid it in the lock, then stopped and turned to Julie. Very slowly and carefully, I said, “Julie, I completed my assignment for the evening. You are back home, safe and sound, without one pretty hair on your head harmed. Was that not our deal? That I would supervise your first drinking experience, and not let you get into any trouble?” Waiting for her answer, I crossed my arms in front of me.
Laughing, still high on cheap beer, she threw her arms around me. “I didn’t mean to sound like a brat. I’m sor-RY! I know, it’s not your fault, I just HAVE TO PEE! Please, please unlock the door!”
So desperate was she for the toilet, she didn’t even take the time to shut the bathroom door, as she usually did. I often laughed to myself at how bashful Julie could be. From what I knew of her background, she’d grown up an only child of seriously protective parents. Her first couple of months on the dorms had opened her eyes to much, but she was still adamant about not dating.
“School is the most important thing for me right now, and I need to put all my time and energy into doing well,” she’s say when I brought up the subject of guys. I could almost picture her father (a plain looking man, from the photos I’d seen) giving her the same speech many times over the years. I felt sorry for such a personable, vivacious girl to have been brought up in such a miserable home.
Flopping face first on her bed, Julie moaned. She was more intoxicated that I’d thought – her jeans were still around her ankles, but she had managed to completely pull up her panties over her cute little bubble butt. Her voice, muffled by the pillow, slurred, “Beer is bad! No more beer for Julie!”
“Good idea, oh young one,” I mused in my Yoda voice, watching her struggle to kick her shoes off, which were, by this time, wedged kaçak casino in the legs of her jeans. “Beer is for the primitive animals we call men. Next time, we’ll try something a bit more refined, eh?” I slid from my bed, and knelt next to hers, placing my hands on her knees to still her increasingly frantic motions. “Be still, and I’ll help, ok?”
She rolled to her side, and behind the thick curtain of glossy black hair that fell over her face; I saw her grinning at me. She lay still, and mumbled something about me being her best friend. I didn’t say anything, but was really touched by those words – even considering her current state of intoxication.
None of my former dorm-mates had been what I’d considered friends. In fact, since I had been at school, I could count on one hand the people I felt close to and trusted. Julie was different. She was so sweet and innocent, I knew she’d never try to hurt me or take advantage of me. I also knew that I could trust her implicitly. She accepted everything I said as the truth, which brought with it a great deal of responsibility on my part. I did not want to let her down.
Managing to pull her sneakers out of the jeans, I tossed them into the corner, where our dirty laundry was piled. I then pulled the jeans from her legs, and tossed them to the pile as well. Julie sighed, and kicked her feet in a little ‘I’m free’ sort of way, then let her legs sprawl on the bed. She turned the rest of the way over, and lay on her back, and flung her arm over her eyes.
“The room is spinning, Shan. I thought that was something people just joked about, but it’s really spinning!” she sounded amused rather than worried, so I wasn’t concerned.
I got up, and went through my nightly routine of undressing, pulling on a t-shirt, brushing my teeth, and washing the makeup from my face. By the time I was ready for bed, Julie was sitting up on her bed, and looking around, as if disoriented.
“Where’s my purse?” she asked. “I can’t find my purse!”
I laughed, and grabbed it from the dresser at the foot of her bed. “You really should just go on to sleep now, before your high turns low.” I advised her. I sat beside her, and put her purse in her lap. She smiled, and hugged it to her chest, not quite sure why she wanted it to begin with. She wiggled her butt around until she was sitting right next to me, our bare thighs touching. Her pale, soft skin was really beautiful, and I wondered how she’d react to me running my fingers over it. I’d really fought with my attraction to Julie, because of her naïveté. I in no way wanted to scare her, or mess with her head by approaching her sexually. Still, I had fantasies.
Digging through her purse, she explained what she was looking for, “I bought something today, Shannon, because I can’t stop thinking about it. Do you remember a couple weeks ago, when we talked about… you know… about… sex toys?” she whispered the words, as if afraid someone would overhear. I did my best to suppress a laugh. Less inhibited by the alcohol in her system, she pressed on, “Well, I got to thinking about how good it feels to… mmm… to masturbate with my fingers, and I decided, I want to try it with this!” she triumphantly pulled a small, slim vibrator from her purse.
The look on her face and the vibe in her hand had me in hysterics in seconds. “Wh-where did you get that?!?!” I asked between great burst of laughter. She grinned in response. “No, really, did you go to a sex shop and BUY it?” I asked.
“The net, baby! You know I do all my shopping online!” she said smugly. “And I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me buy it! Plus, they even sent batteries for it – except, I’m not sure how they go in.”
I tried to suitably calm myself, but was having real trouble doing so. Slowly, I began to realize that perhaps this was an opportune time for me to test Julie’s reaction to advances from another girl. This sobered me right up. I didn’t want to miss any chances.
“Here, I’ll show you,” I offered, reaching out my hand for the toy. She gave it over, and reached in her purse for the batteries. Handing those to me to, she set her purse on the floor, and gave me her full attention. Quickly, I demonstrated how the bottom unscrewed, and the batteries slipped right in. “You haven’t tried it yet, I presume?” I asked her.
Giggling, her cheeks reddened slightly (how predictable she was, even when drunk). “No, it just came in this afternoon’s mail. God, I can’t believe I showed you… here give it back so I can put it up. Thanks for showing me… ” her voice trailed off as she reached to take the vibrator from me.
“Wait, I want to check it out, see what you picked,” I stalled holding it out of her reach. “Looks like the smallest, tamest one they had.” I observed, turning the 5-inch long phallus over in my hand, feeling the smoothness of the plastic on my palm. “Very good for a beginner,” I told her.
Julie flopped back on her pillow, putting her hands over her face. “Just put it up now, Shan, I promise not to use it when you’re here, ok? Let’s just drop it now,” she pleaded, rolling over to face the wall. She covered her head with the pillow.
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