I vividly remember the day I realized I was a lesbian. It was Saturday night, after my first week of Uni. I had been reading in the library, as I didn't really know anyone and as I made my way back to my dorm at about midnight, when the library shut, I hugged my books to my chest for warmth as it was quite cold for September, I noticed out of the corner of my eye two of the girls from my floor in the dorms passionately kissing. I realized I wanted that for myself.
My name, by the way, is Clea, it's from my grandmother from my mothers side, who my father met some 30 yes ago whilst writing in a sleepy Bretton village in the darkest French country side. I have shoulder length ginger hair, natural, of course, a slim build and a B-cup cup breast, small I know but couldn't stand any larger. I stand about 5' 10'' and dress generally in jeans and tees.
Enough about me, after seeing those girls I rushed back to my room, it was a double, though the other bed was unoccupied, I leant on the door and thought for the first time about what I had witnessed. As I did I felt a familiar wetness and a stiffening of my nipples. I dropped my books at the foot of my bed and pulled my tee shirt over my head, revealing my bra. I slid my hands around to my back and undid it. Next I slipped it off my arms and let it drop to the floor. My breasts with their rock hard nipples were now exposed. I pinched one and almost came from the electric thrill.
I lay on the bed in my jeans, nipples hard and pussy red hot, thinking about the two girls from down the hall. The way their tongues were intertwined like two vines. The way their velvet soft bodies were pressed together. The way one would gently run their hand through the others hair.
I undid my jeans and pulled them off. Cold air rushed to my soaked panties, cooling my burning desire and sending a thrill through my entire body.
I didn't want to mess about. I wanted release. I slid a hand down my stomach and under the waist line of my panties. My breathing became heavy and fast with expectation. Finally I reached my prize. I rubbed my clit furiously, hoping to reach orgasm as fast as possible. With my other hand and began caressing a breast and soon I was shaking, my back arched with the power of my orgasm, I bit my lip to suppress a moan of sheer pleasure. I slept the best I had in months.
Unfortunately, the next day I had an early lecture. I threw on the first clothes I could find. Unfortunately this meant a thong that really rode up, the jeans I had on last night (which I was certain still smelt of, well, last night), I couldn't find a bra quick enough, so went without, and an old tee shirt.
I had to take breakfast on the move, so I grabbed something for a French owned patisserie on route. The guy at the counter didn't speak much English, so I used French to speed the transaction up.
It wasn't until I got to my seat in the first lecture that I realized just how far up this particular thong rode, but I'd have to put up with it until the end of my second lecture at least. This was going to be a fun four hours.
My day did take a very positive turn in that second lecture, however. It was history, I arrived early having rushed their form my last class. I took my usual seat and laid out my laptop, when I noticed a new addition to the class walk in. She was gorgeous. Long, raven black locks cascaded down her pale skinned back, revealed by a tight tank top, until it reached her firm ass, which was encased in a black, floral skirt. Long, snow white legs rose to meet that perfectly shaped ass, giving her an angelic hourglass figure craved by so many. Pert C-cup breast crowned her beauty.
She seem to be having some trouble communicating with the professor, a nice man of about 30. From what I could hear she was speaking French, so, I could help, I had to, not to would be to pass up too good an opportunity to be close to, even speak to, this exquisite beauty. Seeing as I had only realized I felt like this the previous night, I was very, very confused
My tribulations were stopped when the professor called me over.
"Clea, did I hear some where you're French? He asked me. He seemed quite hot under the collar in the presence of this beauty.
"Yes, sir, I lived there until I came here."
"Good, good, could you translate for Abigail, is it? I think she's lost"
"Of course, Sir" I turned to Abigail And spoke in French," Are you sure you've got the right place?"
"Oui, oui, European History?"
"O.k, But it may be a little difficult if you don't speak English."
"Non, I understand it perfectly but speak little"
I turned back to the professor and explained the situation. He understood and sat us next to each other, so that I could translate any offerings she had for the class.
Needless today, I was in bliss. Now I had seen her close up I was even deep in love with this woman. I knew she was the one for me. I had to have her. Her voice, whilst low, was wonderfully feminine and her eyes, oh god her eyes, they're like two pools of undisturbed sea water, like two whirlpools they suck you in and hold you tight. I had to have her and she was right next to me.
After that class it was lunch and we sat together, not having anywhere else to go. We got talking and getting to know each other. She told me about her life, she had grown up in a rich suburb of Paris, her parents had traveled a lot, so got her the best education money could buy as reconciliation. Her full name was Abigail Marie Maccello. Her family were rich from her mother's inheritance and her father was a Romanian immigrant.
As she spoke each word entranced and hypnotized me, I swam in her blue eyes as her words me. I reciprocated by giving her my story, form my childhood in France, to boarding school, to here.
After lunch she told me she had the afternoon off, as I did to, so we made plans to meet up an hour later and go in to town. As we walked back to the dorms she told me where she was staying. Much to my elated shock, it was my room.
