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I [F] (21) moved in with another girl [F]

Mar 08, 2024

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After university I moved into an apartment with one other girl called Lauren. She seemed nice but quite different to me. She played football for a local girl's team. She wore mostly sportswear or oversized men's clothes. Never wore make-up. And ate mostly big bowls of pasta. Whereas I suppose I had more stereotypically feminine tendencies

One other major difference I discovered shortly after moving in was that she was gay. It panicked me a little at first, thinking that this put me in some sort of danger of being hit on. I made sure to wrap myself securely in my biggest towel when I left the bathroom after showering, and I didn't nip into the bathroom or kitchen half-dressed like I would have if I knew she wasn't gay.

But despite this background nervousness, Lauren seemed in no way dazzled by me. She was never once nervous in my presence, and seemed to treat me how I suspect boys treat each other boys.

After a month, I thought Lauren was the best housemate I'd had yet. She was very easy going, friendly, and fun to hang out with. I think part of it was that she was just very comfortable in her own skin, and so I never had to think that much about how she would respond to something. Say if she invited me to something and I didn't want to go – I just said I didn't fancy it – and there was no issue, no reason to invent an excuse. As those first few months passed, I began to realise the foolishness of my caution I'd developed when I'd learnt she was gay. If she saw me in my bra she wasn't suddenly going to find me irresistible and pounce on me. And so I began being less cautious about my modesty and would go to the bathroom in the morning wearing what I'd slept in – a t-shirt and underwear.

 
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Lauren didn't have a girlfriend during those months, but would tell me about fleeting romantic moments that she'd had, say, if she kissed a girl on a night out with some of her football team. And we gossiped about it as I would have with a female friend about boys. It wasn't until a couple of months into me living there that she had another girl stay over.

I had gone to bed by the time that they got back. And when I heard Lauren come in and start making noise in the kitchen downstairs, my first thought was to go and hang out with her for a little while. But then I heard the laughter of another girl, and thought I'd leave them to it. A while later, when I was almost asleep I heard them both come upstairs, and then go into Lauren's room. At this stage I still thought the other girl might just be a friend, as it wasn't unusual for Laruen to have friends hang out late on a Friday night. I heard the occasional sound of laughter. Then it went quiet and I thought they might be asleep.

But then out of the silence I heard a moan. The sound of it cut through me. My heart stopped for a moment. I stayed as still as I could. And then I heard another moan, it wasn't Lauren, that I was sure of, it was the other girl. I felt in some way guilty for hearing what I could, and thought maybe I ought to put my earphones in. But I didn't. As I strained to listen I could hear catches of the other girl's breath. I tried to visualise what it was that Lauren was doing to her. Holding her with her firm hands, and going down on her?

And then at the sound of another moan, I couldn't help it, my hand went underneath my underwear and I began to rub myself. I felt more turned on than I could remember being for a long time. I then pulled off my t-shirt, and pushed down my pants, because I wanted the feeling of being naked under the sheets. And when I finally heard Lauren's voice, say or command something to the moaning girl, like 'Yes baby,' I finally lost control and came.

I woke up the next day confused about the night before. I didn't know how to interpret it. Was I gay? Did I have a crush on Lauren? I thought the answer was no to both. I'd never thought about Lauren in that way before. Maybe it was just something about the moment that had turned me on? I also felt concerned about the next interaction that I'd have with Lauren. I was worried I would be self-conscious around her. I heard the girl leave in the morning. But I stayed in my bedroom a while longer, feeling shy about going downstairs and interacting with Lauren. After an hour longer or so, I finally made myself go down. She was in the living room, and said hi to me brightly.

'Hope didn't disturb you last night,' she said.

'No?'

'I had someone over,' she said smiling.

'Oh I must have been asleep.' I said.

'Good,' she said, and then told me that there were pancakes in the kitchen that she'd cooked, but that they'd probably be cold by now.

I thanked her, and went back into the kitchen to get them. I was pleased that nothing so far seemed different, the only thing, was that I was a little self-conscious still. I went back and tried my best to be normal. I asked Lauren about the girl, and played the role of gossiping friend. Asking her how they knew each other – if she liked her – all the usual, and found myself happy by the end of the conversation that I felt fully normal interacting with her.

Things stayed mostly unchanged from this moment. But one small difference is that I started to watch a little bit of lesbian porn – something I'd done only infrequently before. And found that I enjoyed it more than I'd thought.

The next moment that I remember of note, was when we were cooking together in the kitchen. She was making her usual mountain of pasta, and I was making a fussy twenty ingredient curry. When it came time to put on the rice I pulled hard at the unopened packet, and after not giving way at all, it burst open and rice went everywhere on the floor. She turned around and shook her head with a smile.

'You're so silly!' It was half a reprimand, half a tease. 'Clean it up then.' She said handing me a dustpan.

And for some reason, being told off and ordered, made me feel a knot of energy in my chest. I realised as I laughed, and knelt down, starting to sweep up the rice, that it'd turned me on, and that I wanted her to tell me off again, and order me to do something else.

Later that evening, in bed, I thought about this moment again, and imagined a continuation of it. I imagined her telling me I had to take my jeans off. Me being confused, but her having no patience for it, and ordering me to undress. I started to rub myself. Then I imagined Lauren telling me off. Tutting, telling me I was being silly. And I came.

I was confused again after this moment. I had now masturbated explicitly to Lauren. But thankfully, I didn't try and analyse it too much. Certain thoughts turned me on, that was all. I didn't need to draw some big overarching conclusions from them. And nothing on the surface changed between her and I.

I was curious about all of this but had no desire to act on anything. Instead I explored my curiosity in an oblique fashion, by asking her questions that could easily be interpreted as benign. One evening when we were talking about a girl she'd used to hook up with, I asked her how she actually had sex. She laughed at me, and I tried asking again, 'Do you both take turns… do you use toys…? Like how does it work?'

She said there was no set routine. But that she personally, preferred to be the one who gave the other pleasure. And yes, she used toys sometimes. But often just her fingers and her mouth. She spoke as usual in her easy tone of voice, without any embarrassment.

I nodded. What toys I asked.

She said she could do a show and tell if I was really interested.

Okay I said.

And she said come on then, and she led me to her room.

She pulled open one of her draws, and she brought out the first object. A vibrator. I sometimes use this on them, or they'll use it on me. She passed it to me. And whilst it was in my hands she turned it on, and the shock of its strong vibration made me drop it. She laughed at me. Then she showed me a normal dildo.

I have one of these, I said.

I actually don't use this that often she said.

And finally, she said, this. And brought out a dildo attached to black straps. Your face! She said laughing. This is a strap on.

I know I said, and gave her a frown.

She passed it to me, and I turned it over in my hands, confused about how all the jumble of straps worked. And… do you wear this? Or do they wear it?

I do mostly she said simply, as though talking about something as ordinary as sports equipment.

And how… she saw me trying to untangle the straps.

She took it back off me, smiling, like this she said.

And she put her legs through the straps and pulled it up.

There was something funny, surprising and powerful about the sight of the black silicone dildo attached to her.

She laughed, you look shocked she said.

I am a bit, I confessed. How does it feel having a penis? I asked.

Fun, she said, and shook her hips side to side, and it wobbled comically.

Can I? I said, a hand reaching out.

Of course.

I cautiously tapped it.

And she laughed.

You'd think it was you who were the lesbian she said. Afraid of a fake penis.

I'm not I said. I then grabbed it firm with a hand, and jerked it off. I looked at her. And she looked surprised, as if seeing me in a different light.

We then both laughed again and the mood was broken.

Well thank you for showing me your penises I said.

Anytime she said. Hope it was educational.

It was.

But when I left her room, and thought about it later, I was now sure. I wanted her to fuck me with that strap on. I wanted her to tell me to pull down my pants. And I wanted her to fuck me.

That night when I was in bed, I got my dildo out, and lay face down on the bed and put in me from behind, and moved it in and out, imagining that it was Lauren that was doing it with her strap on. I came so hard that my leg would stop shaking for a good minute.

About ten days later, and I was going on a night out with Lauren and two of her friends. We had pre-drinks at ours. The two girls were called Emma and Hannah. They were both queer, but Hannah currently had a boyfriend and Emma was single. After we'd drunk a respectable amount of wine each, we got a taxi. We were going to a gay club in the city that I'd been to either once or twice to with Lauren. On those occasions I'd kind of gone as a kind of curious anthropologist, feeling distinct from the atmosphere around me but enjoying it for its novelty. This time, as we travelled to the club, I felt a little too excited I think for it to be the same motivation.

Earlier on through the night I'd noticed that Emma had probably been flirting with me. I say probably because things are far more ambiguous between girls. We're tactile in conversation, a hand reaching out and touching the other is perfectly natural. I did my own bit of flirting back with her under the cloak of this ambiguity. I felt good about myself that night I'd dressed up for the night in my slutty short black dress and enjoyed inducing her attention.

When we go there shots were consumed, and then we joined the masses of dancers. I leant into my provocative dancing, and allowed my dress to ride up higher than I usually would have. Emma kept on dancing with me, in a kind of ironic but still flirty way, and I reciprocated whilst embodying a naïve enthusiasm – pretending to be unaware that anything I was doing might be seen as sexual. I was enjoying myself, and enjoying showing off whilst Lauren was there and watching. A few hours into the night, I went outside with Lauren for a cigarette and fresh air.

We both shared a cigarette. She put it in my mouth and lit it for me. There was something very nice about this tactile act.

I took a drag and handed it to her.

You enjoying yourself? She asked.

Yes I said.

You seem more into it than when you've come before.

I shrugged, maybe I've just drunk more I said.

What do you think of Emma she asked.

She's fun, seems nice, I said pretending not to understand the thrust of the question.

She asked me if you were gay just now.

Oh? I said.

Yeah I think she has a crush on you.

Oh.

And I said I didn't think you were, but that I wasn't sure.

Hmm. I said.

She took another drag of the cigarette, giving me a silence to fill.

I suppose I'm not sure myself. I said, surprising myself with the words. And not able to look Lauren in the face as I said them. She handed me the cigarette.

I took a drag.

Do you think you've always been unsure?

I took another drag. Nerves growing in my stomach. The moment focussed to a point. I don't know, I said, maybe just more recently actually… I had the courage to look at her, and my heart turned over. Implied meaning, that we both felt.

Hmh she said. Any reason, that you think its more recently? She asked.

I didn't know if I had the courage to say it. But I breathed it gently. Because of you. I said.

We both looked at each other, the moment stopped. Then we kissed. Slowly, then urgently. She pulled my neck into her, and I moaned slightly as her soft lips melted onto mine.

We pulled apart.

Shall we go back? She said.

I nodded.

We didn't spend time saying bye to the others. Lauren said she'd text them that I'd been sick, and she'd taken me home. She ordered an uber. I was worried about this intervening time to getting home. The silences might be more awkward out of the noise of the club? I didn't want to have to make small talk with her, it would feel false given the context. But I needn't have worried. The uber driver pulled and we got in.

Inside Lauren asked him to turn up his radio that was playing and he obliged. And then she put her hand on my leg and slid it up, under my dress. I kept looking straight ahead. Her hand rested high up my leg. There was something so hot about the nonchalance with which she did it, and how we just sat there in the taxi, the driver completely unaware about what was going on. I felt that hand rested there, was a claim of ownership. A claim I happily accepted.

Thanks we said, as we stepped out of the car. As we walked towards the house, I was nervous. I felt like I was a virgin all over again, worried about the mechanics of sex, and if I'd be good at it. A part of me even wanted to back out. Was this all a mental game that I'd constructed that I didn't want to actually see play out?

She unlocked the door and we stepped inside. And without looking at me she took my hand in hers, and she led me up the stairs.

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