Fara, My First

[This is a longish, true story about my first lesbian experience that is best read at a leisurely pace. Enjoy.]

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I met Fara during my freshman year at Brown University when we lived in the same dorm. Initially, I was puzzled about her heritage. She had creamy light brown skin and impossibly big almond eyes, and although she had grown up in Wessex, she was certainly not Caucasian. During one of those inane freshmen orientation parties, we drifted to the margins of the excessively cheerful group and became involved in a more meaningful conversation. I asked her if she thought I had a slight accent, she replied in her crisp British one that mine seemed merely American. I told her about my Venezuelan heritage to break the ice, and asked her about her own background.

Her father was a half-White, half-Indian British University professor who had taken an extended vacation in Thailand during his mid 30's. There, he had met and wooed a native Thai girl. Fara was the glorious product of this union. She looked like one of those wide-eyed goddesses depicted in the Eastern religious art I was only faintly acquainted with.

She was petite and toned, but the most amazing thing about her was her skin. I remember realizing it for the first time during the late summer of that first school year. She was wearing a thin cotton sun dress that exposed her smooth brown shoulders and arms. As I hugged her, my hands rested upon her back; I was surprised at the suppleness of the flesh that slipped so lightly beneath my fingers.

"Oh my God, your skin is so soft! What moisturizer do you use?" I asked, even as we were locked in an embrace.

Her smile tickled my ear. "Oh none. I inherited my mother's skin."

During those early months, we talked for hours about cultural differences, bilingual identity, the altruism conundrum, the delusion of love. From that day on, we were inseparable. We went down to the dining hall together every night and edited each other's papers. When we were irritated by our respective roommates, we sat in the dorm the hallway and giggled incessantly about their inexcusable eccentricities. When either of us were actually sexiled by said roommates, we shared a bed. We understood each other intuitively and our emotional closeness was mirrored in our physical affection. We cuddled innocently in bed, tickling and wrestling safely under the guise of heterosexual female friendship. People insinuated that maybe we were more than friends, but we just laughed at their inability to comprehend the intimacy possible in a platonic relationship.

I just didn't understand why I felt so happy holding her, pressing her firm curves against me as we lay in bed. I felt like I didn't need anything else in my life. We nuzzled our noses into each other's fragrant hair, and held on tight before falling asleep. Once, I remember she told me how much she loved me and how impossibly glad she was that she had met me. She kissed my cheek lightly and then stared into my eyes. Softly, she went on to kiss my other cheek, my forehead, the tip of my nose, in rapid succession. When her lips returned to my cheek, they grazed the corner of my own mouth. I felt an impulse to turn my head, but I questioned it, and by the time I had decided to return her kiss, her lips had moved back up to my forehead. With baited breath, I waited for her to resume her smattering of kisses, but she seemed to have sensed my tension and she responded by lying her head peacefully on my shoulder and sighing. Suddenly, I was aware of her pert breasts pressed firmly against my own softer, larger ones. My breathing quickened. Were her nipples hard beneath her t-shirt, or was that just my imagination? I considered the relative thinness of the cotton barrier between the skin of our breasts. My own nipples hardened in response, and I panicked. I told myself that it was only natural to have sexual thoughts about the best friend you were so close to, regardless of their sex. I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep.

I remember a dream I had that night. I was suspended above her glorious brown body. I was free to explore all of the soft peaks and valleys at my leisure. I worked methodically from top to bottom, and she writhed becomingly beneath me. I woke up suddenly in the early morning. We were had settled into a spooning position during the night spent on the tiny twin bed. My hand was cupping her breast. For a moment, I lingered on its softness, giving it an almost imperceptible squeeze, but as soon I felt her body shift, I freaked out and deftly withdrew it.

I realized that I was in love with her during our Sophomore year, when we shared a one bedroom apartment. We had gone to a local bar with our group of friends and Fara had been approached by an incredibly cute guy. They talked intensely across the bar from me, and I occasionally looked up from my conversation to see how they were doing. I noticed that the guy seemed mesmerized by her beauty and articulation, and I felt excited and happy for her. He leaned in and lovingly brushed away a stray lock of her silky black hair. She beamed at him. I ordered another gin and tonic.

Five minutes later I had abandoned all attempts at conversation with our group of friends and was just staring at the new couple intensely, wincing at the thinly veiled implications of their body language.

"Ok, enough already. Just exchange numbers and let's leave," I whispered behind the smile I threw in their direction. There was no danger of her hearing me, she hadn't even noticed my staring. She whispered something of her own in his ear and he stammered a response. I couldn't turn away. I noticed that her high nipples were hard beneath her fitted white cotton t-shirt when she finally turned to face me. They both walked towards me, arm in arm.

"We're going for a walk. I'll see you back in the apartment later, drunkie," she said. I responded with a deep nod.

Three more gin and tonics later, I stumbled into the apartment building. Everything would be ok, I told myself in the elevator. That guy was probably just a stupid jock and she had probably realized it during their walk. She would probably be sleeping alone upstairs and I could just climb into bed with her and cuddle like always. Neither of us had dated a single guy during our first year I college and we always joked that we didn't need anybody but each other.

The front door was unlocked and I planned to jokingly berate her for leaving us exposed to the horny would-be-rapists frat boys that lived across the hall. The bedroom door was ajar and the Tori Amos song that was playing came to a finish as my hand was on the bedroom.

"Yes, yes, yes.....," she whimpered. Was she masturbating? A small lamp was on inside the bedroom; I peeked in before entering. She lay on the floor, the guy's head buried between her thighs. She undulated frantically, her toned brown stomach flexing. I was paralyzed. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth opened and closed slowly, she swallowed deeply. The guy was rubbing his face in her pussy, lapping,, probing, sucking. His tongue and her juices made slurping noises. She whimpered, "Yes.....yes.....God, fuck me, fuck me now."

He lifted his head from between her brown thighs and in one swift motion, turned her so that she was on her back. He slid a hand between her thighs, and she lifted her ass in response, still undulating. It shined wet with her juices in the lamp light. As he kneeled behind her, rubbing her pussy, his veined, red cock stood petulantly. She moaned and leaned back, rubbing her ass and exposed genitals against his cock. He spread her with one hand and with the other guided his cock past her ripe lips. She gasped sharply as he slipped inside of her. He bucked wildly, his hands squeezing her slim waist and moving it to meet his thrusts.

I felt an unmistakable warmth spreading from my lower belly to between my thighs. I felt myself swaying softly, humping the fantasy of a cock. No, not that ugly cock of the jock, but her, only her. Her firm softness. Her slender brown hand that was now frantically rubbing her own nipple. Her whole hand inside of me, ramming into me. Her tongue, her lips sucking at my folds, teasing my clit, nipping at it, sucking it, pulling on it...oh, god....

I was distracted from my reverie as he grunted as he began thrusting harder, her hands gripped the shaggy carpet as she supported herself. They swayed back and forth frantically as he slammed into her. I could hear his hairy balls slapping against her ass. The firm, high breasts I had never been allowed to see swung violently as she took his thrusts.

"Ride me...fuck me...oh...god...yes...yes...yes...fuck me...," she moaned.

He only grunted in response, but he rammed into her more frantically. They looked like animals, like monkeys or dogs fucking. My momentary arousal had turned to disgust. I turned from the scene and stumbled into the bathroom. How could she let him touch her, his rough hands on her silken skin? He didn't know her, he couldn't even really turn her on. She was faking it for him, and that could be fun, but it wasn't real. I knew it. God, how could she let him touch her? He was touching every part of her, possessing her.

Angry as hell, I grabbed the 8 inch silicone dildo that we kept underneath the bathroom sink. I could hear their cries from inside the bathroom; things had gotten rougher.

"I'm fucking you, Cunt!" he cried out.

"Yes, fuck me, fuck me...harder...i love it...oh, oh god, fuck me!"

There was a crash as something fell to the floor. An enormous thud vibrated the mirror on the bathroom wall. The thin wall was being banged rhythmically. He was fucking her standing up against the wall. I straddled the closed toilet, facing the banging wall, the dildo beneath me. I slammed my own body onto it, violently and destructively aroused, defying the sorrow that dragged down my soul. I fucked it, keeping in rhythm with their slamming on the other side. The vibrations from the wall heightened my arousal. I imagined him fucking her from behind, she was facing me, she didn't want to look at him. I imagined her face before me, as we were both being fucked, penetrated by big cocks.

Tears began to stream down my face. Violated, we both were. I worked the plastic cock frantically, I could feel nothing good inside of my body except for the buzzing pleasure in my snatch. That's all. Just sex. I rocked frantically back and forth, keeping in rhythm with their fucking. I imagined her flanks shivering, her ass quivering, as he rammed her into the wall. I clenched my own pussy tightly around the dildo, as I worked it up and down. The juices that now streamed onto my thighs made my frantic movements glide easier. We banged in harmony. I wanted to fuck her pussy, exploring all of the wet, plump layers, making her moan, then ramming into her, slamming her against the wall, until her pussy clamped and quivered around my hand and she whimpered and bucked wildly. I threw my head back, as my spasms peaked. I roughly slammed my body against the huge plastic cock one last time, and slammed my own head against the wall in the process.

Before I passed out, I wondered if she had noticed the noise.

TO BE CONTINUED...