Every year when the Superbowl inevitably rolls around, I can't help but reminisce about the first time I tasted another woman. It was eight years ago, and the thought of it still makes me tingle and squirm until I can no longer resist the urge to touch myself to the memory.
I was in my senior year of college, and I had met her in one of my classes during the fall semester. Sierra was bubbly, beautiful, and one of the nicest people I had ever met. I've always been shy, usually keeping to myself on campus, but Sierra had sat right next to me on the first day of lectures, introduced herself, and continued to be my friend from then on.
The guys in our class would gawk at us both (I'm not so hard on the eyes, alright?), but they were obsessed with Sierra. She had an ass that could barely fit in those tiny lecture hall chairs, and she loved to flaunt her amazing body at school. Her thick curls fell wildly and danced around her when she strutted through the halls, and I couldn't but feel fierce walking next to her. She made me feel more confident in myself, and soon she'd make me feel something completely new...
Her boyfriend at the time was your typical guy. He was insanely attractive, to be sure, but kind of a dunce. I knew that Sierra held all the power in the relationship, I doubt he had any idea of the true depths of her intelligence. She was sweet to him, though, and she would tell me tales of all the filthy acts they'd committed together around campus.
"I'd never marry him," she said. "But holy hell does he fuck my brains out."
I wasn't jealous that Sierra was having great sex--there were plenty of guys throwing themselves at my feet at that time, and I took a few of them for quite the ride--but I couldn't fight the desire to want to watch the two go at it. The thought of her amazing body clashing with her boyfriend's muscular frame would often play in my mind, and soon I'd be touching myself with the image of Sierra front and center. I'm ashamed to admit, but I even made myself cum to a picture of the two of them on her IG a few times.
It was my dirty little secret, and I figured I would take it to the grave. That was, until, the Superbowl rolled around. Nothing against anyone who's into organized sports, but I couldn't give less of a shit about football. Sue me.
So, I had planned on spending the day alone in my studio apartment with a good book, but Sierra had texted me the day prior and asked what I was doing. She told me that her boyfriend was going to a superbowl party, but that she didn't give a shit about football and wasn't going. I knew she was good people.
I invited her to come and spend the day with me, totally unaware of what was about to happen.
When she showed up at my front door, my fucking jaw hit the floor, y'all. Sierra usually dressed to impress, but on that day she was shining like the sun. Her hair fell loose, free, and perfect, as always; a tight, thin white tank top was tucked into a pair of butt-hugging denim shorts, doing nothing to hide her perfect breasts and her supple nipples. And she wasn't even wearing shoes, she had walked up from her care barefoot. That was so her, free and fun all the time.
Like an idiot, I gawked at her long legs without even welcoming her in.
"Uh, are you alright, Lydia?" She said, wearing that perfect smile that could break down all of my walls. "I'll clean my feet before I step on your rug. Don't worry!"
I finally got my shit together, taking the grocery bag from her hand and pushing her in. She'd brought a bottle of whiskey, and she was already heading for the shot glasses... I watched her perfect ass flex as she moved, unable to fight the feeling that was bubbling inside of me.
Half an empty bottle of whiskey later, as the sun was started to dip into its horizon sheets, and the two of us had ended up on the floor like little girls. We'd spent the day laughing about the boys at school who chase us, our asshole professors, and the existential fear of graduating without a fucking clue of what either of us was going to do with our lives.
Sierra had jumped up and headed to the kitchen, disappearing behind the counter. I winced as I heard her pouring more shots.
"Ugh," I groaned, hoping we weren't out of chaser. "Why do you always drink whiskey, Sierra? It's so gross."
"Because, my little Lydia," she cooed, her bubbly voice bouncing playfully on each syllable, "whiskaaay makes you friskaaaay!"
I laughed and laid down on my back, enjoying the thick rug rubbing against my bare legs. "I think you have an addiction."
"To what? Whiskey? Duh..."
"No," I snorted, "to sex. You freak."
"Oh, well I thought we'd established that known fact long ago, my friend." Suddenly, Sierra was hovering over me. Her denim shorts were gone, revealing a pair of lacy black panties and her gorgeous thighs. She had two shots in hand, smiling down at me over her perky breasts.
"Umm..." I mumbled, slightly confused by what I was seeing and feeling. "Where are your pants?"
"Ditched em'. This is so much more comfy," she proclaimed, lowering herself onto her butt, careful not to spill a drop of the whiskey. With just the thin tank top and panties on, Sierra was practically naked right there in my living room. "You should lose the romper, girl! It's just the two of us. Who cares!?"
I sat up and glanced down at my floral romper, suddenly eager to hide myself. Why was I so reluctant to show my body to her? What did it matter if it was just us girls?
She sensed my reluctance and proceeded to do what she did best: put me at ease.
"Lydia," she said, changing her voice to a faux sternness that cracked through her bright smile. "You either take the shot or take off the romper. The choice is yours..."
Without hesitation, I grabbed the shot from her hand, clinked glasses with her, and knocked it back with a gasp. As the fire spilled down my throat, I watched her laugh as she held the chaser far away from me.
"Oh, please! Give me the chaser, Sierra! You're gonna make me puke!"
"Take off the romper and it's all yours!"
"Ugh, fuck off," I groaned, standing up and quickly sliding the romper down my body. "I fucking knew you were gonna make me do both."
When the romper had fallen in a heap at my bare feet, Sierra grabbed it, hurled it down the hall, and shoved the chaser at me. I drank far too much of it, sighing at the relief it brought me before burping loudly.
Sierra let out a howl, "That's my girl!"
In just my bra and panties, I plopped back down on the rug in front of her, sticking my tongue and shoving the chaser back at her.
"See, that's not so bad, right?" She was eying me up and down, slapping my hands away when I tried to cover up. "You've got nothing to hide, Lydia. You have an amazing body."
"Pft, I've got nothing on you."
Sierra slinked onto her back, writhing around like a succubus. "Well, we can't all be blessed, my dear."
"Oh, that's it!" I fell over the top of her, tickling around her tummy as she shrieked and giggled uncontrollably. It felt good to touch her, and soon we were laying together on the rug, riding down our laughter and holding each other. Her fingers glided gently over my skin, exploring the peaks and valleys of my body but not daring to cross the borders into forbidden territory. I did the same, lingering on her smooth legs, loving the way her thigh felt between mine.
"Tell me a secret," she said, winking at me. "I tell you all of my dirty confessionals and you never tell me anything!"
