I had always thought girls were attractive, and I considered experimentation, but I then would chicken out.
See, I grew up in a very conservative town in a very conservative state. If I hadn't found my clit myself, nobody would have told me I had one. Sex was strictly something you did on a honeymoon with a husband. Sex was said to be painful the first time. And what came of it was painful: childbirth. And then the children grow to hate you. And that's how sex was portrayed. Something painful both physically and emotionally. It was best to be avoided unless it was time to continue our species.
Thinking about sex with boys was both exciting and foreboding. I liked the idea of human touch, but was also frightened about the consequences.
Thinking about sex with girls -- my own gender -- was both exciting and forbidden.
Had it not been for the loneliness of long distance runners, I fear I would have never touched another girl.
It happened a few years ago. I had received a partial scholarship at a Midwest university to participate on its basketball (fall) and track (spring) teams. My freshman year, I feared getting to know anybody too well, so I concentrated on my athletics and academics. I played very little basketball, but when you're one of 10 girls vying for a spot as small forward, that happens. However, my specialty was running.
I love running. I am on my own.
And while I'd experimented with a few alcohols and a fewer drugs in my 19 years, nothing made me more exhilarated as The Runner's High. The Runner's High also had the advantage of being completely legal. Of course, I'm sure Mr. Ashcroft will eventually try to outlaw it as well.
Our track team went to Colorado for our first meet against a bunch of mountain schools. We had stayed there for two days prior, trying to acclimate our bodies to the altitude and limits of oxygen. Supposedly, it was to help us in our own running back in our Great Lakes region. But the lack of oxygen had made me very tired the first night, and I fell asleep shortly after getting back to the hotel room.
I was sharing the hotel room with my track mates Tiffany and Jennifer. All three of us were distance runners, although they needed strong sports bras. Both of them were much bustier than I.
The first night was without incident, at least as far as I knew. We had two beds and a hammock. We were supposed to rotate who slept where to make it equal. Bed, bed, hammock -- and the next night you switch.
In the morning, I woke to see Jennifer and Tiffany sleeping next to each other in the bed next to mine. It made sense on one level. A lot of girls were known to be comfortable enough to share a bed. But they seemed to be cuddling. It was very cute.
Oh, okay, everyone always wants descriptions of those involved. Here you go: both were juniors in college. Both were 21 but neither drank. Jennifer was the shortest of us, at 5 feet 5 inches. She has beautiful long, straight hair that slides down her back. Her skin is like a soft cloud, brightly white. Her breasts are ample, very ample. She wears a 34D which means she'd sometimes where two sports bras for assistance. Guys (and girls, too) love her breasts, but they don't help her running a 3200 race. Not unless she one day wins a race by a nipple's length ahead of another.
Tiffany is the tallest at 5 feet 11 inches, she is also the most athletic. Along with track, she is a cheerleader for our school during football and basketball season. Her hair is golden brown and cut just to her shoulders. Her skin is a warmer shade of white, she could get a great tan when she wanted. She loved running in just a sports bra to show off her lean abdomen which -- if she wanted -- she could flex and ripple. Tiffany always, always smiles. She smiles when she runs, it's crazy. Oh, and she wore a 36C sportsbra.
I'm Erica. I am almost 5 feet 8 inches tall. My ancestry of American Indian and English-American gave me a mix of dark skin and small breasts. My hair is dark, long and curly down my back. Jennifer and I were both asked to have it cropped shorter like Tiff's, but there's a reason God made Scrunchies and hair-ties. So I can run one minute and go dancing the next.
We were returning to our hotel after a day of time trials and practice runs. The three of us wandered into the front lobby eating apples and bananas. (No, you pervs). We had been giggling about news we had just heard on the radio -- that a porn movie had been made in some dorms on our campus (we'd been voted one of the best party schools in the nation). The film company snuck into a dorm and even had some students help out. It was too funny to comprehend a much of adult movie people doing anything in the Midwest, except trying to get out of it.
But they had been there, and now our school was freaking out about its student population having orgasms before their wedding nights.
"I wonder if Rachel's going to be in it. She is such an exhibitionist," Tiffany had laughed.
"Hell, I might have," Jennifer responded.
"Oh my God," I giggled.
Jennifer walked up to the front desk. There was a boy in his 20s sitting there. I hate to demean anyone, but he was looking like a pure geek and her attention to him made him quickly blush.
I didn't hear what she said. I just saw his response. His eyes had gone from her face to her breasts to her face and back to her breasts.
"Yaa...yaa..." he stuttered as he glared at her chest. "Yesss...of course."
"What did you say to him?" I asked.
"Erica, have you ever seen a porno?" she quizzed me.
"Well, just those 10-second things on the net. Why?"
"Because I just got us free porn all night long," she laughed. "All I had to do was let him stare for a few seconds and tell him he was a cutie, and I asked him to give us free access to the adult movies tonight."
"Oh my God," I laughed. Jennifer was crazy like that. She was never inhibited about sexuality. She'd talk about having lovers or masturbating and it was no big deal to her.
"Free porn," Tiffany smiled. "For education or inspiration?" she asked.
