(Author's note: this is my first submission of erotica for public viewing—-all comments and criticisms are welcome. Inspiration for this particular story came from an ex of mine who suggested we each write our own story involving a girl named Vicki and another female. Be forewarned that I like my sex stories to have a plot, not just the screwing-bits, so don't read if you need action-action-action. Thanks!)
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The first time I set eyes on Victoria Jane Duquette, she was naked as a jaybird, splashing water into the air and shrieking with laughter. Of course, she was barely four years old at the time, full of joyous abandon and innocent ignorance—and so was I. Susan, my mother, had brought me to Vicki's house to play while our mothers enjoyed coffee and gossip. We became friends for life on that hot August day in the inflatable kiddie pool. We were inseparable-- went to the same preschool, kindergarten, elementary school and middle school; and even when her parents split up and Vicki went to live a few towns away with her dad, we kept in touch. We even managed to get our final exams scheduled together, and it was on the last day of testing that things changed forever.
I had just turned 18, and Vicki was a few months older. We were both no longer quite as unblemished and easily entertained as in our kiddie pool days. Vicki had struggled with depression along with normal teenaged angst, and bore beneath her perpetual long sleeved turtleneck blouse the scars of a few halfhearted suicide attempts. I had overcompensated a bit for the chaos surrounding me, and developed an eating disorder that left me with more angles than curves despite my age. She had dyed her hair repeatedly, and kept it braided tightly and tucked back with a spiky tuft of bangs. My blonde hair was buzzed short in the back with long tendrils in the front, combed over my left eye.
But she was still My Vicki—-and I was still Her Jenn.
We had studied frantically for this exam. Vicki's dad had promised her a car if she placed well, and that would mean we'd get to see each other a lot more often. Between school and part-time shifts at Dunkin' Donuts, somehow we managed to study hard enough to get the grades we wanted and put all the stress behind us. Too drained to do anything very cerebral, we celebrated with diet Pepsi from the vending machine down at the skate park. We watched the boys showing off on their boards for a while, pretending to flash them as they went by and jeering when they fell.
Finally bored with skating and skin abrasions, we wandered off to the picnic tables near the hedge on the other side of the park. It was one of those oven-baked days where the dry heat makes you feel like your hair might burst into flame, and Vicki was roasting in her habitual turtleneck. She tugged at the bottom hem, flapping the shirt to get some air.
"Why don't you just take it off, Vick?" I said. "It's wicked hot. Nobody's gonna see." She wrinkled her nose at me, and I rolled my eyes back.
"Fine," she relented, "but only if you take yours off, too."
I laughed, quickly peeling off my skimpy top and tossing it to the grass. "Done! Okay, girl. Get rid!" I tugged at her sleeve, then leaped up onto the sun-warmed table, closing my eyes and lying back to tan.
Vicki hesitated for just a moment, then wriggled out of her shirt. She settled herself cross-legged beside me, elbows on thighs with her chin in her hands. I opened my eyes and grinned at her, and she stuck out her tongue. We were lazily silent for a while, listening to the distant shouts of the boys. Vicki drummed her fingertips impishly on my exposed belly. "It's good to see you filled out a bit, Jenn," she said softly. "You've been looking like a starving albino aborigine lately."
"Albino aborigine? Oh, that is sooo wrong!" I giggled. I was actually just bloated from the carbonated drinks, but she didn't need to know that. I breathed deeply, feeling tingles chase all through my body under her friendly tapping. "It's good to see you at all—you stay cloaked up in those stifling shirts too much." I ran a finger from the back of her neck down to her bra strap, and snapped it playfully. "God, I wish I had boobs like yours."
"You couldn't wear shirts like those with boobs like mine," she retorted, glancing at my barely legal top on the ground.
"True." I said, sitting up and surveying my meager cleavage, pushing my breasts together and apart to compare. My body was still tingling, and with this attention my nipples contracted painfully against the lace of my bra. "I hate it when they do that!" I groaned, pressing my palms against them to make them relax.
Suddenly, I felt Vicki push her hands against mine, pushing me back onto the hot table. Her lips brushed against the corner of my mouth, and something deep inside me began to melt like chocolate chips in a microwave. "Vick..." I whispered, confused, my hands still clutched to my chest by her hands and my legs half-raised in protest.
"Shh, Jenn. It's okay," she said, caressing my mouth with tiny licks of her pointed tongue and nibbling at my lips. Her hands squeezed mine once more and let go. She hovered over me, supporting herself on her palms on either side of my shoulders, placing soft, deliberate kisses on my neck, arms and chest. The sensations were thoroughly pleasant, for all my misgivings, and I was sure all my bones had melted away as I lay helplessly beneath my best friend in the world.
"Dude! Dude! You have to come see this!" Kyle yelled, coming to a screeching halt by the half-pipe.
"Shit! What the hell, Kyle, I almost nailed that one!" Scott picked himself up and poked gingerly at a new bruise.
