Greg’s List Pt. 01

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Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers

“It’s pink,” Samantha Harris explained. “And it wasn’t soft at all. It was pretty damned hard – on me, at least.” Irritated, she brushed back her light brown hair from over her ear, letting it flow down to the middle of her back.

“Really?” responded her roommate, eighteen year-old Trish Dellaconte. “I thought that was just a joke.” She blinked, her brown eyes softening as she focused on her best friend.

“No…it was pink. And pretty damned final – ‘Your Services Are No Longer Required.'” Samantha had a combined expression of amusement and stunned amazement on her face.

“I was doing a really good job, they said. But because of the economy…” Samantha thought that she might move on to crying. Which stage was that, again? She wiped distractedly at her blue eyes.

“Well, you’re better off without them,” Trish said supportively.

“Thanks,” Samantha responded. “But not so much financially, y’know? I’m gonna have to find something. Maybe Dave will know somebody who needs an art teacher.”

“Look, Sam, you’re a very talented, thoughtful and beautiful woman. You’re twenty three, and did I say, you’re beautiful? You’ve got a hot body, and you’re nearly as smart as me – of course you’ll find something. Just make sure that when you interview, sit, y’know, in kind of a friendly way, make sure the boss himself sees you, and finally, don’t get stuck with some Human Resources chick. The boss, if he’s got a dick, will hire you. The HR chick, not so much, it’s jealousy, y’know?” Trish’s expression was serious, so Samantha knew the chances she was joking were less than 90 percent.

“Yeah, thanks, and I hope that you’re right, but still, I’ll ask Dave if he knows anybody who needs somebody.” She didn’t dare look at the expression of disgust on Trish’s face. She’d never liked Sam’s boyfriend.

“Suit yourself, but you’d have more luck with Greg’s List, in my opinion.”

“I think I’ll just take a nice, hot, scented bath, with lots of bubbles, and some soft music on. You’d better use the bathroom now if you think you’re gonna need it, because I don’t need any interruptions.” That was the two friends’ code for ‘alone sexytime.’

Samantha sighed as she rose off the beat up sofa they’d found on Greg’s List. She walked across the beat up rug they’d found on Greg’s List, to the bathroom, one of those old black and white tiled ones that you find in the city, with a tub that was stained and chipped in miscellaneous areas just from being fifty years old, and woodwork that had been painted over an impressive twenty times, at least.

Samantha imagined that if some future archaeologist did a dig in their bathroom, he’d find layers of paint dating back to at least the Civil War, and perhaps some shards of broken pottery from an ancient civilization or two.

She turned on the water, the first gush typically rusty and a little rank, then when it turned clear and hot, she closed the stopper to allow the tub to fill. She gently added a dollop of scented bath crystals, and as the steamy scent of vanilla began to fill the air, she stood to remove her clothes, pacing herself to avoid the awkward, ‘standing naked while the tub finishes filling’ step.

She thought about her relationship with Dave. “He’s kind of immature, it’s true,” she thought, as she put her long brown hair in a ponytail with a scrunchie, making her look again like the cheerleader she’d been in high school. She looked at herself in the mirror, as visibility faded and steam gained more and more territory from the glass.

“Maybe I could do better,” she thought. “On the other hand, maybe right after you lose your job isn’t the very best time to go looking for a new boyfriend.” She nodded at the wisdom of that thought.

She assessed her looks. She thought she’d better take stock of things if she were going to be going out on interviews.

“Nice hair,” she thought. “Thick and glossy, not too many split ends.”

“There, that should do it,” she said out loud, to the increasingly vague looking woman staring back at her. “Good hair, get job.” She sighed again. If only it were that easy.

She grinned at the mirror, baring her teeth. “White, even teeth – check.”

“Short nose, not too big or too crooked – check.”

“Fair complexion – check.”

“Big, blue eyes, nice lashes, no unibrow – check.”

“Heck, if I really thought that a really good body part would assure me a job, I’d go out and get a boob job, or plump up my ass,” she thought, lifting up a boob, smaller than she’d like it to be. Then she turned, and caressed an ass cheek, sizing it up.

“Probably not big enough, but it does feel good,” she said aloud again.

She began unbuttoning her conservative print blouse, checking her upper body for stray ugliness. “Hmm, definitely too many freckles,” she said, staring at her upper chest and in her cleavage. “No scars, that’s a plus.”

She pulled the blouse off her shoulders, and off her arms, smelling it under casino şirketleri the arms, pleased that it didn’t smell, then neatly folding it on the vanity. She reached behind her back and unhooked the plain, white bra, releasing her breasts from their A cup confinement. She massaged them briefly, feeling a sense of relief, and her pink nipples perked up at the attention.

She unbuttoned her work skirt, then unzipped it, letting it drop to the floor. Then she rolled down her panty hose, again feeling relief at the release from the confinement of synthetic materials. She stepped out of one leg, then playfully kicked the other off, watching the crumpled hose sail up, up and away, to land two feet closer to the door.

Realizing that it isn’t nice to pee into your own scented bath, she lifted the lid of the decrepit, but clean, toilet and sat down, as she shimmied her plain white panties off her hips, to mid thigh. Soon, a sharp hissing sound filled the air, as well as the aroma of her urine, salty and hot. After she was left with only tiny dribbles of pee, she stood, and wiped herself with several squares of toilet paper, then tossed it in the bowl, along with its fresh amber coloring.

She flushed, and immediately the water flow at the tub cut in half. “My god, I hope I never have to fight a fire in the apartment with a water hose,” she thought. “While I’m standing there heroically” – she pictured herself wearing a fireman’s black turnout and an old-fashioned metal helmet – “if somebody on Seven flushes, and somebody else on Three brushes their teeth, I’ll be standing there with nothing.”

She dropped her panties the rest of the way to the floor, eyeing the faint, light brown stains at the rear, then kicked them over to her panty hose pile. She looked at herself in the small patch of remaining clear glass in the mirror.

“Kind of slim waist, hips a little too thick, ass still looking good, even if a little small, nice legs,” she thought.

Facing the mirror, she assessed the rest.

“Neatly trimmed hair, edges waxed – thank god for summer bikini waxing – small, petite and pink pussy and clit.” Dave had been on her to shave or wax the whole thing, but Samantha thought that at least a little pubic hair gave a girl’s vulva some character, plus it helped keep her pedophilia-inclined boyfriend from assuming that she’d suddenly gone from age twenty three to age twelve.

Samantha picked out three scented votive-sized candles from her small collection of go-to candles, and lit them, placing them on the edge of the tub, then stepped over them, hissing at the heat of the water, but appreciating the sensation of tension rapidly fleeing her body.

She settled in, the water rising as her body displaced it – thanks, Archimedes! – and lay back, her head and neck resting more or less comfortably on the tile wall and the small, back ledge of the bath tub.

She let her body reach some kind of equilibrium with the temperature of the water, then reached up with a well-practiced right foot to turn off the separate hot and cold faucet knobs. She pulled herself back up, her wet upper chest now slightly chill once out of the water, and began her ritual of self-pleasure and relaxation.

She closed her eyes, and evened out her breathing, into long, slow regular breaths. Her fingers began to trace intricate patterns over her upper chest, finger nails lightly tracing over her skin as they skated over her smooth, damp flesh. Weak sensations of pleasure and release danced through her upper chest, causing her breathing to even out to a more regular rate.

Her fingers moved lower, to her breasts, tracing similar patterns, the same, but reversed on each side, her sharp nails making thin wires of sensation in her flesh. Her attentions involved her nails directed at the sides and tops of her breasts, and then turning to the tips of her fingers at her nipples and the underside of her warm, soft breasts.

The feelings there were more intense, and began to flow lower into her body, instead of remaining above her waist. Also, they became more overtly sexual, stoking a low-burning fire of need and appetite. Her lower body shifted in the tub, soft sensations sparking alight in her clitoris as currents of hot water stroked over her thighs, vulva and lower stomach.

Samantha moaned, as she felt an orgasm inexorably growing inside her. Still far off, but she knew how to expertly ride the smaller waves of pleasure while waiting for the big kahuna, as a surfer will patiently take advantage of smaller waves waiting for the big one.

Samantha’s hands plunged into the bath water, as her fingers followed her smooth, slick and wet stomach, waist and hips. Writhing from side to side, she gained pleasure from both her plainly erotic touching, as well as the rhythm of hot water splashing against her sides, like waves lapping against a boat.

Finally, as though they were military planes breaking formation, her right hand headed for her vulva, while her left returned casino firmaları to her breasts.

The fingers of her right hand insolently skated through her small, flat bush of dark brown pubic hair, to briefly caress her clitoris, flicking it lightly, sensations of liquid pleasure swelling her pink and plumping button. Fingers then teased along labia, like goats following a well-worn path along a mountain ridge. Her movements were unconscious, reflexive and instinctive, a route taken by countless women on their own bodies before her.

Meanwhile, her left hand even more insolently abused, first, her left breast, then the right. Squeezing soft breast between thumb and three fingers, pressing soft warm flesh, then squeezing and finally tweaking hard, pink nipple. The pain at her nipples sending even more intense signals of impending pleasure to the nerve center within her clitoris

Her right hand, as though in some competition with the left to see which could be more outrageous, separated her labia, exposing her deep pink, inner flesh, her pussy open to her much desired intrusions. Her thumb slowly strummed her clitoris, while her fingers stroked over and over, her labia, waking to their ability to transmit sensation, once they were filled with a surfeit of her blood.

The movements of her fingers over her defenseless clit and labia became faster and faster, as the sensuous pleasure feeding back into her brain and her clitoris, instructed her fingers to move even faster.

Simultaneously, the fingers of her left hand were more discriminating, alternating between roughly abusing her sweet, round breasts and hard pink nipples, and caressing them, the different types of touching titillating and teasing her confused sensory apparatus, doubling or tripling her pleasure.

Thoughts of Dave crept into her brain as she pleasured herself.

“See my pussy, Dave? She’s pink, and hot and wet for you…she wants your hot, hard cock deep inside her…fucking her and ramming her, harder and harder, your dick splitting me in half, too big, much too big, it’s so BIG fucking me harder harder HARDER cumming inside me, filling me with all your hot, delicious CUM…”

The thought of his body on top of her always set her off, and this was no exception. She splashed a little, extinguishing one of the candles, as her thighs jerked and shivered when an explosive cum tore through her petite body, electric nerves jangling with ecstasy and excitement, her clit on fire under water, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

Finally, though, the pleasure ran out through cracks here and there, and Samantha was left with a pleasant lassitude, exhausted by her masturbation, and pleased that it had made her forget her current problem. She could always count on sex to make her feel better, even if it was only solo!

She lay floating peacefully in the now tepid water, and dozed off for a few minutes, her batteries slowly recharging, until she heard a sharp knock on the door.

“Hey Sam, it’s Dave on your phone. Do you want to let it go to voice mail?”

“No, I’ll get it. Tell him to wait,” Sam said, as she struggled to wake fully, and leave the tub at the same time. She wrapped a towel around herself, opened the door, and slap-slapped her bare-footed way wetly on the wood floor, to the living room, where she’d left her phone.

“Hello?” she said. “Dave?”

The display was blank. “I guess he hung up,” she said, shrugging. Just then a ‘You’ve Got Voice mail’ message popped up.

“Must be him,” she said, to no one in particular. When she turned to look at Trish, her pixie cut, black-haired roommate was eyeing Sam’s ass.

“What?” Sam asked. “Am I putting on weight?” Then she did a little comical toreador dance as she tried to look at her own ass, but it kept moving away as she turned.

“Woof, woof, Sam chases her tail!” Trish giggled.

“Seriously, Trish,” Sam said, trying not to laugh. “What?”

“I was just admiring your ass was all, you could make some serious booty with that, um, booty.”

Sam decided to ignore Trish’s lack of seriousness, and turned her attention back to the phone. She called her mail box to listen to the message.

“Hi Sam, it’s me, Dave…look, I’ve been thinking about our relationship, and I just don’t think it’s going to work. I’m gonna send you an email explaining, but I wanted to talk to you personally, so, that’s it, um, it’s not you, it’s me…really, you’re too good for me…”

His voice sort of trailed off. She wasn’t exactly sure where the message ended, but it didn’t look like it was going to swerve back into fair territory at the last second, so she disconnected.

“Fuck…Dave just dumped me,” she told Trish.

“What?” Trish exclaimed, her brown eyes flashing. “Why? Is he stupid? He’s never going to do better than you! What a stupid fuck! Let’s go tear him apart…dumb ass hole!” Trish really looked like she was ready to tear Dave limb from limb.

“God! You’re beautiful, güvenilir casino and smart, and funny, and you can cook, sort of…what a jerk!” Trish continued.

Sam sat down on the sofa in the towel, and Trish hugged her. “You don’t need that guy anyway,” she said. “You could have any guy you want.”

“Aww, thanks,” Sam said, “but I think I’m going to go to bed now. This has just been a really shitty day, and I want to get it over with. Maybe tomorrow’ll be better.”

She traipsed off to bed, too limp to even get dressed, and slipped into the cool sheets naked. The feeling of being on a cool cloud sent her over the edge into dreamland, and she was asleep within seconds.

Samantha was surprised to find herself waking up in Trish’s bed, next to a sleeping Trish. Trish was wearing just a pair of panties, while Samantha was naked.

“Oh my gosh, did I walk in my sleep?” Samantha thought, horrified. “I’d better ease my way out of here…”

Just then, Trish roused, her eyes opening blearily, her right hand landing on Samantha’s inner thigh, effectively holding her in place.

“Hi, lover,” Trish whispered sleepily. “You certainly surprised me last night…but what a nice surprise!” Trish’s fingers were caressing the smooth skin of Samantha’s inner thigh, coming dangerously close to the juncture between Samantha’s legs. The feeling was very, very nice, and hard to ignore.

“Trish, I don’t know what-” Samantha began, as Trish sat up, well within Samantha’s zone of personal privacy. It was clear that something had changed between them, and Samantha couldn’t remember even one second of it.

“Hush, baby,” Trish said, placing three hot, damp and curiously fragrant fingers on Samantha’s lips. What was that smell? It was so familiar…

Then Trish replaced her fingers with her lips on Samantha’s lips, that curious fragrance stronger now. Samantha felt a hot ache, curiously, in her clit at the touch of Trish’s mouth on hers, the warmth of her body next to Samantha’s, the intimacy of her scent. She felt her resolve to flee Trish’s bed weaken. Though she had no idea of what had happened before, it was pretty clear what was happening now.

“Ohhhh,” Samantha sighed. After the shocks of the last day, it was so comforting, not to mention exciting, to find herself closer to Trish, who had really been her best friend for so many years. Trish’s body was warm and supple against her own, her softness and thoughtful pace a sweet reflection of Samantha’s own femininity. It was such a delicious contrast to Dave’s less nuanced, jump-right-in approach. Samantha found herself inexorably drawn in to the rightness and perfection of Trish’s embrace.

“Ohhh…Trish,” she murmured, her desire to flee, itself fleeing, her need for the touch of another overwhelming her. And Trish’s touch was so right.

Trish was acting like she were picking up a continuing thread, not starting one.

“What did I miss?” Samantha asked herself. But the feelings from Trish’s embrace, her warm body against her own, the tantalizing fragrance they seemed to share, were all too much for Samantha to ignore, especially considering that her body was responding enthusiastically. Her heart rate had increased dramatically, her breathing had become shallow, and there was a mysterious buzzing in her clit.

Samantha couldn’t take her eyes off Trish’s tits. Her nipples and areolae were brown, and bigger than Samantha’s, as were her boobs themselves, probably closer to B-C than to Samantha’s As. Trish’s nipples were crinkled tight, evidencing her excitement at being near naked, and in bed with her female roommate. What had they done last night? And was that a hickey on the side of one of Trish’s breasts?

Her nipples were aching against the fabric of the sheet. “God, they’re hard,” Samantha thought. The sheet, one from a set that she’d found on Greg’s List, seemed to be conspiring against her, rubbing so roughly against her clitoris, sending admittedly pleasant shocks through her lower body. Everything seemed to be conspiring to bring her closer into Trish’s arms, warm and embracing.

“Oh, Sam, I want you so much,” Trish whispered into Samantha’s ear, her warm breath racing over her cheek and ear, tickling her a little, but also causing Sam’s heart to beat so rapidly and so hard, that she thought that it might burst from her chest.

“Oh Sam, I can feel your heart beat,” Trish said, as though reading her roommate’s mind. “I want to feel it better.” With that, Trish leaned down and brought her warm, moist lips to Samantha’s cleavage, kissing the shallow furrow lingeringly, her kiss making Samantha moan involuntarily.

“Oh god…Trish,” Samantha breathed, losing control over any inclinations that she might have had to make the girl stop kissing her. Trish brought her hand to Samantha’s breast, tenderly touching her pink, taut nipple, then softly kissing it, her lips soft on the tight flesh. Samantha moaned again, as joyous sparks floated through her to her clitoris. Her hips wriggled a little, in a vain effort to disperse the building pleasure.

Encouraged by Samantha’s receptive response, Trish reached behind her roommate’s body, caressing her back, and lightly scratching Sam’s skin with her nails.

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