Pete Doesn't Just Tell Me

The introduction to the first chapter explains that this story may not interest readers who don't like to read all the thoughts of the girl who is the main character. Just a warning. I still hope you enjoy it. If you happened to start with this chapter, you missed why and how this started with the girls, kissing and fondling, but now the lesbian action starts. Then there is a lot more with her brother, as told by her, finally going all the way.

*

I had to giggle with her; the situation was so taut with nervous tension. I fondled her ass, catching the elastic of her panties with my thumb, pulling it down, as my fingers crept down to the start of her thigh. She stopped giggling and muttered:

"You really want to."

It wasn't a question. I nodded with an "um-hmm."

"If you really do," she murmured, raising her hips and letting me push her panties down.

"I do," I confirmed, moving down the bed to use both hands to take her panties off her legs.

Could I take my panties off to suggest that she do it too? That would be expecting too much, I rationalized, as I turned around on the bed, If she like it -- of course she would -- maybe she would think of that. And if she didn't think of it, I already knew what it would have been like. I couldn't expect too much; I had sucked her nipple and could now lick her pussy, discovering why my brother liked to do it.

As I was urging her to draw her thigh up under my head, she again muttered questioningly:

"You really want to?"

I nodded on her thigh and drew her hips closer. She didn't need a better answer than my tongue's finding her pussy. She gave a surprised moan, as I delighted that her pussy already tasted like mine did -- when I was licking around my brother's mouth.

Was hers much different from mine? How different could pussies be? I couldn't lick my own to compare, but my tongue seemed to find that the flaps of her inner lips were bigger than I thought mine were. Her little button? It wasn't bigger than mine I thought, but it sure was sensitive! She moaned.

This was being so good! What a delightful coincidence that Marsha had lost her boyfriend and so surprisingly was interested in girls. Was I, too? Wouldn't any -- every -- girl enjoy discovering why guys liked to lick her pussy? I didn't think I liked girls as much as she seemed to, but I sure was curious enough to find out.

Oooh! She also wanted my thigh under her head. I moaned with a nod as I drew it up. Did she want to lick my pussy? She was going to have to deal with my panties, now very wet panties; it was so arousing to lick her pussy. I forgot about her, remembered everything my brother had done that felt so good. It would for her too.

But then she was grasping my hips, her head sliding up my thigh. Did she also want to?! She must smell that my pussy was aroused, wet. Oooh! Her hands drawing my hips closer to her face -- to her tongue?! Did she want to, too?! My tongue tried to encourage hers. Oooh! Her tongue was licking on my panties, there, where they must be wet. Did she like the taste, like I did? She must have tasted her own fingers, like I had.

I moaned encouragingly, nodding, and she nodded on my thigh. Please! Her tongue again lapping on my wet panties. Could it feel my aroused pussy lips, feel my aroused little button? My tongue was licking hers. She moaned. No, she had no problem with a girl's licking her pussy, and I didn't either, just that my panties were in the way. Why should she: a boy's doing it couldn't feel better. And the boys in our class probably didn't have my brother's experience. Lucky me!

"Oooh!" this time out loud. Fingers were pulling the wet crotch of my panties aside. She really wanted to lick my pussy! I moaned, and my tongue tried to suggest what I wanted her to do.

Of course, she knew where it felt best for me, didn't need my tongue to show her; we both knew what another girl would like! Could this be better than with my brother? Did I like sucking and licking his cock better that licking Marsha's pussy and nibbling and sucking on her little button? Now it wasn't so little. Forget about sucking his cock: no comparison; it was just equally good and arousing to lick a pussy, and to have mine licked -- by anyone! And we both knew how it was feeling for each other!

Was that why she came so wet, because I had known how it was feeling for her and made it so good? And she had made it as good for me as it could be, for the same reason, despite never having done it before? She couldn't know my thought. While we were recovering, I had the wild idea of Pete's doing it with her, who could compare our orgasms.

Marsha and I lay there. When I fondled her breast, she fondled mine, and we both were silent. I was very pleased to have had the unexpected and so satisfying experience, but what was she thinking?

She fondled my breast and murmured:

"If he does that to you, that good, you probably don't want to do it again."

"He doesn't do it better, couldn't. If you want to?"

She squeezed my breast, pulling on it as she turned around and dropped down half on me again, She didn't grin in response to my remark, just smiled mildly with sigh, then asking:

"You would?"

"I had been curious. Now I know; I would. Just don't tell anyone."

We chuckled, nodding and she dropped down and kissed me, and I kissed her. She retrieved her tongue, raising her head with a serious expression, asking:

"Even if you know that I think I probably like it better with you, with girls"

"If you think so. I don't mind. I liked it too. Maybe you will with the right guy."

"Hmm? Tell me about it; maybe so. ... Next bridge afternoon?"

"Without my panties."

We smiled and kissed again. In the bathroom, I guess she was a little surprised, when I immediately used the toilet, but then she shrugged with chuckle, and did so herself. She was probably also a little surprised, when I immediately asked which was her washcloth. I had to, since she and her parents used the same bathroom. She told me and then only nodded, when I washed my face.

Then I was surprised, when she embraced me from behind, as I was about to wash my pussy. I just nodded, however, and washed it, while she held my breast, holding our bodies together. When she washed herself, I also embraced her, to be nice, to be fair, although my doing it wasn't as spontaneous.

When our mothers returned, they were very pleased that Marsha and I were in such good humor, not knowing why, of course. They were pleased again, when my Mom brought me along to spend the next afternoon with Marsha.

We did it all again, and more. Just grinning, we took off our clothes and kissed, chuckling when our hips rocked up, and then we were in her bed again, as good -- at least -- as before. Lying together, I told her that my "friend" liked for me to sit on his face. She moaned, and we did it that way, and then, of course, I sat on her face.

It was better than not letting the boys I was dating do too much, and easier to keep me from, knowing that I would be together with Marsha every fortnight, when our mothers played bridge. I was beginning to wonder if I really liked it with her better than with boys.

I had not written my brother about her, thinking that if we happened to talk about girls, maybe then I would. Our letters, however, were suggestive: his discreetly, mine maybe trying to compensate for my questions about what Marsha and I were doing. At the end of our senior year, at the graduation ceremony, we parted with words suggesting that it was all over. When we saw other girls kissing each other, we also did, managing to keep our tongues in our own mouths and to not press our pelvises together, as we had so often in her bed.

Funny how girls usually embrace, holding their hips apart, sometimes with boys too. I wondered if they all were trying to avoid suggesting that they also didn't want anyone to know what they did, when no one was looking.

I waited for Pete to come home.

The first night he was home, we didn't, didn't even imply anything, also not when we were going to bed. Maybe we were overdoing that, even in the bathroom together with all our clothes on, and then just saying good night through our open doors, even though we both knew that we slept naked.

In the morning, it was funny. He took his shower as usual. Uncertain, I put on my panties and a bra -- not the revealing one -- before I joined him, finding him shaving in his shorts. I had to pull my panties down to use the toilet, of course. We smiled at each other in the mirror, then both chuckling softly. He plucked at the elastic of his shorts and said:

"I wasn't sure."

"I wasn't either, obviously," I replied with a grin and pushed my panties past my knees, and then flipped them at his feet with one of mine. He snickered with a nod and stopped shaving, using both hands to push his boxer shorts down. They dropped down on his feet. He stepped out of them, and kicked them and my panties back at me. We didn't quite laugh out loud. When I reached back and unhooked my bra, he leaned closer to the mirror to be able to see my breasts. My bras slid down my arms. I caught it with one hand and tossed it at his feet.

We exchanged grins and nods. Yes, we were back where we had been! I jiggled my breasts with my hands, and he nodded with grin, humming. I heard myself say:

"I love you."

"I love you too, better than a brother should."

"Hm-hmm! That's good; like I want you to."

"Wicked. We shouldn't."

"You know how much -- how little -- I believe that."

"Just had to say it."

We exchanged grins again. Oh yes! We couldn't make up for our deprivation since Christmas, but we could do everything we could. "Everything?" That too?

He finished shaving and turned to get his towel. His cock was bigger than it should be. Or was it as big as should be? He grinned and rocked his hips, making his cock wag. It was definitely as big as it should be, and he knew it and wanted me to see that it was. I hummed with a grin and jiggled my breasts again, rubbing my thumbs over my erect nipples, making them flip up.

"Just like I remember them," he murmured.

"And your cock too," I replied.

Fuck! I wanted to embrace him, press them on his chest and feel his cock press against me! Somehow, I didn't, even when he moaned with a nod. I stood up and almost jumped in the shower to make sure that I didn't. I started my shower, and he left. Maybe a good thing, since the way I was washing my pussy with one hand, while trying to wash the rest of me with the other one, wasn't something he should see, not till I washed it again before we went to bed.

It was a very good thing that that evening our parents suggested that we could sleep in, that breakfast would be later. We could hardly wait to get in bed. I didn't wash my pussy, and we didn't brush our teeth. He wanted my pussy, and I wanted his cock. We wanted them so much, that we had to have them without taking turns. Of course, my pussy and his cock also wanted it that way, and it seemed like his cock had been saving up to let me enjoy it more, enjoy how much it was.

Oh, we had both needed that! It was I who had to crawl around, since he had lain down first with his head at the head of the bed. We embraced and kissed. Could he taste what his cock had given me? Licking around his mouth, I could taste my pussy juice, the way it should be after our doing that.

Was just once enough? It was, it must have been; we fell asleep in each other's arms. I vaguely remember turning over under his arm, and then was sleeping again. When I woke up again, his hand was on my breast and something was between my thighs. It could only be his cock. My hand slid down. It was, and when my fingers touched it where they had to, it moved, his hips pressed against my ass. It and his hips moved again, rubbing the little ridge of skin behind its head on my fingers. His hand hand held my breast, and his cock and hips moved again. Did my fingers too? Probably. It moved a couple of times more, and then he murmured "Oh?" and squeezed my breast.

"Um-hmm," I responded, and I know that my fingers then moved. It twitched. It was so close to my pussy. But then it wasn't, his hips rocking back, as he murmured:

"Kind of a dream. You'd better go back to your bed."

"Uhnn, or I can do it to you again."

"Better go to bed, or we'll wake up here in the morning."

I agreed reluctantly and slipped from under the covers and returned to my room. Lying in bed, I felt how close his cock had been to my pussy. Close enough that I could have pressed it up against the back of my pussy lips. Could I have pressed it up between them, if I had rocked my hips back? What was I thinking, that we could really do it? Had he had the same thought? Had he slept with Barbs that way and then done it? He had never written anything that suggested that they had spent a whole night in bed together. I fell asleep with my hand still between my thighs.

I was awakened by the sound of my door being closed. I blinked my eyes open and saw that it was just dawning, much too early to get up. Surprised, I turned my head back and saw him looking down at me. I had to roll back to see the rest of his body, and saw that his cock was sticking out, below the horizontal. He also looked down at it, not smiling, and murmured: "Please."

Even before I nodded, it flashed through my mind: Just once last night hadn't been enough, his waking me up with his stiff cock between my thighs, and now standing there in my room, asking me to suck his cock. He smiled just very slightly in response to my nod, then murmured:

"I'll get on top; move down the bed."

We hadn't ever done it like that, but I understood. He clambered over me, supporting himself with his hands above my head, then just on his elbows, his cock wagging a little over my mouth. He had to slide his knees back to lower his hips. Then it was in my mouth, the way I most liked to lick and suck it. He gave a sighing moan.

There wasn't anything nicer that I liked to do for him -- and loved to do. And I was pleased that he had known that I would, that he could venture to come in my room and ask me to. And I could fondle his balls better this way than the couple of times that I had before. Had he thought of that, wanted to feel me jostling them in his still slack sack? Could I suck one in my mouth? That would be interesting too, but not now, another time; he wanted me to suck his cock, to make him come in my mouth. How could Barbs have deprived him of that pleasure? And her own, well, mine, if I had been her.

When he became more aroused, it occurred to me that this way it was all going to land in my throat, where I couldn't taste it. That was just a small sacrifice for being able to fulfill his desire to let me make it as good for him as I could. If he didn't return the favor after I had, I knew that he would later.

His sack had drawn up, and I grasped his cock. We knew that this way he wanted me to be able to continue to lick where it felt most arousing, but we also knew that when he came, he couldn't keep his hips from trying to thrust his cock deeper in my mouth. He tried to muffle his groan when they did, my hand around his cock avoiding its making me gag. I had been right about it all landing in my throat, having to swallow a couple of times. By then, I could swallow without biting his cock.

He sighed with a moan and moved back down over me and kissed, his tongue in my mouth. When he retrieved it, I murmured:

"Had to swallow it all that way, if you were trying to taste it."

He chuckled softly with a nod, and kissed me lightly again. Then he sat up, grinning down at me and said:

"I want to see all of you," and pulled the covers down off my breasts, and then got them out from under his legs, moving back so that he was straddling my legs, his eyes perusing up and down my body.

I chuckled and held my hand over my pussy and covered my breasts with my other arm. With a grin, I remarked:

"Thought you had already. I had wanted you to, let you often enough."

"Um-hmm, but not where you taste so good."

I suddenly realized that he had only licked my pussy when we were in bed in the dark. I snickered and took my hand off my pussy, replying:

"But you can't see it, when you're tasting it."

"Why I have to look first. Hm-hmm! Maybe stop and look a couple of times, to see if looks different then."

"Hm-hmm! I hope so, just to make it interesting."

He nodded with a grin and got off the bed. He threw the covers back and grasped my legs, pulling them to the side of the bed. When he dropped to his knees on the floor, I understood. With another chuckle and grin, I moved around on the bed, grabbing my pillow to stuff under my head. When he held my knees, I clutched them together, teasing him, grinning, as I resisted his trying to spread them, covering my breast with my hands.

I had been aroused, when he came, but after all our talk, I wasn't so much. I hoped he would see my pussy lips closed for his first look. He tested my resistance to letting him look again, staring at my pubic hair, then grinning up at me, seeing that my breasts were covered. He chuckled and murmured:

"Oh, if you're embarrassed, still a virgin or something, maybe I shouldn't," and pressed my knees together.

"Hm-hmm! More 'or something'," I replied and pressed my knees against his hands.

They immediately helped them spread. I raised my head to see if my pussy lips were closed -- pretty much. He smiled and licked his lips, then murmured:

"Pretty pussy."

"I like it."

"I do too, ... like you like my cock." Had he ever used that word before.

"That much?!"

We grinned at each other again. We had never done it like this before in the dark of his room. He had been crouched between my legs, and I had drawn my thighs up to make it easier for him to lick my pussy, but not like I did now. If he wanted to see my pussy ...? I drew them up until I could grasp behind my knees, letting them flop to the side.

"Oooh! Already different," he murmured. I was getting impatient with our bantering.

"Don't just look."

He didn't. He didn't have to see my pussy to know were to lick and nibble. I encouraged him with chuckling moans, until it was too arousing to chuckle, just aroused moans. Then he looked again, not glancing at me as he murmured to himself:

"Oooh! More different, especially there."

I knew where "there" was, when his mouth covered my little button, licking and sucking. I moaned. His tongue found my wet opening, plunging in it as best it could. Then he looked again, this time, his fingers pulling at the sides of my pussy. What did that look like? Could he see in it? He blew at it. Oooh! He must be able to; I felt cool air where I never had before!

"Enough looking!" I demanded softly.

He nodded, and his mouth was back on my pussy, and I was moaning, soon having to hold my twitching thighs to keep them spread. His hands slid up my sides and found my breasts, his thumbs flipping my stiff nipples. He got an extra moan for that. And then his hands were clutching my breasts, as though he had to hold on to something to keep his face on my twitching hips.

Was it so arousing because of his having looked, because I could see his head between my thighs, or because he could do it better with my thighs drawn up, now quivering thighs, my body all tense in anticipation of the orgasm I knew I was going to have?

He gave it to me! It seemed like it was wetter than ever before, but maybe that was just because I could hear better the sounds his tongue was making. "Oooh!" Maybe it was really wetter; his tongue was lapping up below my pussy. I felt my asshole tighten; his tongue had licked that close to it. He lapped a couple of more times, and I released the grip on my thighs, letting them drop down.