A few hours ago, Harriet was sure she was straight. She'd been invited over to a mate's party, and they'd played drinking games for a few hours. During a round of "Never Have I Ever," Harriet mentioned she'd never kissed a girl before and was soon dared to kiss a lovely blonde called Claire who also hadn't. They shared an awkward kiss briefly, everyone cheered, and the evening moved on.
Only it hadn't. Claire kept catching Harriet's eye. They kept picking each other when they had to give out drinks. When people left and places got rearranged, they kept sitting next to each other.
Then the dancing started. Harriet had lost track of Claire (not that she admitted she was looking for her) and bumped into her on the dance floor. Claire's butt brushed against Harriet's, so Harriet cheekily butt-bumped her back. Then again for luck. They both smiled, giggled, and moved on.
Claire left the dance floor to take a phone call, and when it finished, Harriet went over to chat. Harriet found Claire funny as they chatted about how silly it was they kissed, how they were both straight, how they were both single, about how they had touched butts, about how they were both straight again. What their perfect date was as they both enjoyed walks on the beach. Perfectly normal stuff.
But they couldn't hear each other at the party. After all, why would they keep telling each other they were straight? So they should leave to chat more. Oh, there's a beach just down the road, they could take a walk along that. Oh, and it was cold, maybe they could hold hands?
Harriet couldn't deny it now. She was holding hands with Claire and kept giggling like a schoolgirl and certainly wasn't trying to glance at her cleavage. Why hadn't she realized how wonderful boobs were before today? It was just a coincidence, right? Not just Claire's perfect pair of round perky tits that had her eye? Right?
After a while, they got tired and sat on a bench. Claire was cold, so Harriet suggested that like all good new friends, they could hug. Claire sat on Harriet's lap, facing her, arms around each other. Warm now. So warm. So nice, so comforting. So soft.
They laughed about their kiss again. How brief it was. Perhaps they should try it again, just in case they had to do it again. Make it less awkward. They tried once and both pulled away giggling quickly. So it didn't count, and they tried again, holding the embrace. Once more for luck, tongues running against each other, tits pushed against each other.
They both were red-faced afterward. Harriet couldn't believe what she'd done. She was so aroused but didn't know what to say. Claire was the same. Eventually, Harriet muttered something about how she'd promised not to go home with any guys from the party. Claire said her place was around the corner, Harriet could come to hers so Claire could 'protect her from any guys trying to take her home.' Harriet accepted almost before Claire finished speaking.
They held hands again, and Claire slowly moved Harriet's onto her chest. Under her shirt. Under her skirt. All the time, Claire looked at Harriet to see how she reacted, Harriet smiling and never pulling her hand away. Under her panties. Towards her...
Harriet had never been so annoyed when Claire told her they had arrived and opened the door to her flat and let her in. Claire went and got a drink for them both, they cheered each other and had some wine, then finally chatted.
Both of them were nervous, neither had expected anything like this. Neither had kissed a girl or expected to want to. Harriet finally was the one to sort of address it, admitting she wanted to see what else they hadn't tried together. They talked around the issue for a bit before Harriet said it.
She wanted to kiss a girl, she wanted to kiss Claire.
Harriet was red-faced, unable to make eye contact as she said it. Claire, red-faced, told her she felt the same. Both expressed a desire to touch each other. But they were nervous, unsure if they were going to like it.