Chapter 3
Hillsboro IS a sleepy little community set amid rambling green hills just outside of Portland, Oregon. It is a quaint mix of tiny Victorian homes and rambling ranch tract developments, antique shops in turn-of-the century storefronts, and modern shopping malls. For a little over a year Cheri and Betty had shared a two-story pink and white painted Victorian house that was really much larger than they needed, but appealed to both of their artistic sensibilities. It consisted of a remodeled kitchen, a dining room with stained glass windows and leaded glass oak hutches, a parlor and a living room, both with fireplaces, four bedrooms a small, round cupola-like room upstairs, and a porch swing. Don't forget the porch swing; Cheri had insisted on that.
Each girl had her own bedroom and Cheri, the budding artist eager to escape from the humdrum existence of being a secretary, used the round room with its magnificent view of the forested hills as an art studio. One room was kept as a spare bedroom for guests, most notably Bob, Cheri's photographer boyfriend, while the fourth room was a general catchall that housed Cheri's art supplies and abandoned paintings. It also stored Betty's huge collection of teddy bears, that is the part of the collection that wasn't on display about the rest of the house. If you were a guy that was visiting the girls and you had some interest in getting into Betty's pants, you never joked about her teddy bears!
Cheri pulled her Volkswagen into the short gravel drive beneath the ancient elms that stood in front of the house. She loved the elms but hated the rain of birdshit that always got deposited on the hood and roof of her car. Bob had promised that he would build a carport for her, and she tried to think of a way she could get him to hurry up with the project. Hold back on the sex with him? Tell him she wouldn't perform any more blowjobs on him until he had started work on the carport? Naw, that was much too crude; that was like cutting off your clit to spite your pussy!
Betty was in the kitchen cooking dinner, one of her exotic Oriental experiments, wearing tiger striped panties and nothing else.
"That you, Cheri? " she said, without turning from the wok full of Chinese food she was tending with a spatula, "I sure as hell hope so, considering how I'm ... undressed...."
Cheri leaned in the doorway, crossing her arms in introspection, assessing the semi-naked girl cooking at the stove. "Oh, I don't know...." she said, "I expect the water man might rather appreciate getting some cooking tips from you ... or perhaps offering a tip of his own...." Cheri paused for a moment. She could never get over those tits, or rather, those incredibly huge nipples of Betty's. Such big nipples placed smack-dab on such small, knob-like titties. Christ, if Cheri had nipples like that she could rule the world! For a moment she had an inclination to come up behind the other woman, to snake her hands up and to take those warm, moldable tits in her hands, to fondle them with her fingertips, but she forced the thought down. After all, after that first sex encounter she and Betty had put that area of their lives on hold, and maybe it was better, more simple that way. If she and her housemate did get involved in some rollicking lesbo affair as their initial lovemaking had shown that it might turn into, that would make it pretty sticky with Bob, wouldn't it? Bob, at various times, had made vague intimations about how both of them might enjoy adding a third party-another chick, naturally-to their lovemaking, but Cheri had ignored the possibility. The problem was, really, that Bob was more possessive than probably even he knew, and if anything had developed that indicated that he wasn't the single focus of interest, well, Cheri thought he might not enjoy that quite as much as he thought. Or maybe, she mused, maybe she had a little streak of that self-centeredness in her, too?
"I'm making plenty of this whatever-it-is with sweet and sour sauce, if you'd like some," Betty said. "It may be excellent, it may be lousy, I'm not quite sure at this point...."
"Some of your famous gourmet whatever-it-is, eh? You make a lot of that, don't you? I don't think so, Betty; I much prefer your whatchamacallit with water chestnuts, now that's really unpredictable...." Cheri responded, smiling. "Thanks for the offer, but Veronica, that lawyer from my work-"
"You mean the bulldyke who always dresses in a suit?"
Cheri put on a look of mock displeasure. "So she's a dyke ... Hell, I don't even know if she is a dyke! Does it matter? She's one of the few people at the office who could give a fuck about me...."
"Hey," Betty said, "Touchy, touchy. Throw a fuck to you, don't you mean? I was just making a joke. I could care less if she's a dyke or isn't! Now, you were saying...."
"Anyway, Veronica, the dyke lawyer from my work, is coming over to help me out with my figure-drawing. She's really good, actually. If you'd like you could sit in...."
Betty turned and Cheri's eyes followed the bobbing of the other woman's tits. "Love to, roomie, but I've got a hot date tonight. It's my boss, at work. He's got a degree in French fry-ology, or something, you know? You should see this guy;, he's from the Middle East somewhere, probably a closet terrorist from his dark good looks ... Anyway, from the way he talks, his parents are practically royalty over there. Well, he's unbelievably foxy and he looks like he could fuck like a Persian-built jackhammer. We'll be coming in late, probably, but if you hear the sound of a jackhammer coming from my bedroom...."
"I get the idea, roomie," Cheri said. "Okay, well, listen, I'm going to go upstairs and do a little work, maybe straighten up a little before Victoria arrives. If you don't bring the jackhammer home with you, drop into the studio and let me know about your trip to the Middle East ... or rather, his trip into you ... He does sound interesting. Ask him if he's got any friends that moonlight as industrial equipment, I might be interested...." With that, Cheri slipped out of the kitchen and headed upstairs.
Being in the studio always gave Cheri a feeling of incredible freedom that was unmatched anywhere else. There she felt she could soar, at least in her imagination, unlike the way it was at work, chained as she was to a desk for eight hours a day. Cheri went over to the easel where her latest painting stood, draped, and she pulled the cloth off of the canvas. It was a painting of a nude woman, roughly blocked in, features only imperfectly sketched, and she lay sprawled across the couch that sat at the other side of the room, across from Cheri's easel. Looking at the painting, Cheri frowned. This was, without a doubt, the most ambitious painting she had ever done, or attempted, anyway. Compared to the nude female figure, her previous paintings of local landscapes and out-and-out abstracts had been a snap. She had even sold a couple of paintings locally, although at the prices they had ... not commanded, more like pleaded ... they had practically been given away. Now that she thought of it, she had given away a few of the things, too! But this painting, a step upward in both style and content, was proving to be just as difficult as she had imagined, had feared it might turn out to be. The face and the figure were only roughly blocked-in, hazy. Cheri was still struggling on getting the positioning of the arms and legs, the overall posture of the body right. The problem, undoubtedly, was that she was not working from a live model, but rather from a photograph of herself that Bob had taken. Somehow she couldn't seem to make the picture come to life, to be visually interesting, to create the illusion that you were looking at a reclining figure rather than just strokes of paint on a canvas. Well, try and try again....
Cheri went over to the coat hook near the door, and she reached back to fumble with, then unzip the back of her dress. She slid the dress off, stepping out of it, and then carefully hung it on the hook. She stepped out of her shoes, kicked them to the side, then bent as she slipped off each white stocking, hanging them over her dress. She undid the clasp of her bra, the kind that hooked in front that she favored, and then slipped off her bra. Peeling her bra away from her big knockers, jutting defiantly from her chest, had a strangely reassuring sensation to it. She knew that men loved her tits and the way they thrust out, practically defying gravity, and that pleased her. No underestimating the asset a girls tits are to her, Cheri thought, at least if she's got a nice set on her. Now, Betty's tits, personally I find them rather a turn-on, but I suppose they would be a matter of taste. Some guys had told her that the only kind of tits they liked were the big, torpedo-shaped mammaries, the kind she was fortunate enough to have. Betty's small boobs, even endowed as they were with those gigantic nipples, might not appeal to all guys. Cheri finally removed her last garment, her panties, peeling them down past the curly fur of her crotch, then off.
She walked over to the full-length mirror by the door, and assessed her body with an artist's eye. Not too bad, not too bad ... She took her big tits in her hands, weighing them, lifting them as if she was offering them to the girl in the mirror. The girl in the mirror seemed to be pleased with the offering and smiled. Cheri rubbed her fingers over the soft, protuberant pink cones of her nipples, weaving a bit as she took in the sensation through her tits, felt it spreading through the big mounds, felt the heat twinging and going lower toward her crotch, turning on a warm longing down there. She reached out and let her fingers snake downward, over the firm flatness of her belly, then let her fingers slide and toy into the jungle of dark, curly hair at her pussy. She rubbed and molded the protuberance of her pussy mound, now heating up, and arched her tits, writhed her ass as her fingers snuck into the soft clinging wetness of her pussyslips. She dawdled her fingers shallowly, sensuously at the bare livid pink rim of her pussycrack, and then her fingers dove deeper, dove to the first knuckle, twiddling the soft, glistening folds of soft, warm flesh. Cheri's other hand was busy, too, working on her tit, on her nipple. She was teasing her nipple into erectness, pinching and caressing, each motion of her fingers augmenting and making more intense the working of her fingers thrusting into her snatch.
"Okay, Cheri, don't expect me back until...." and then Betty stumbled through the unlocked door, swinging it back. Cheri opened her eyes from her sexual reverie and looked at Betty, her fingers still wrapped around one nipple, the fingers of her other hand thrust into her cunt. "I ... uh...." Betty stumbled, and then she frankly stared. Betty's eyes widened and she didn't say anything as she looked at the other, nude woman standing before her.
Cheri took her hand off of her tit, dislodged her fingers from her twat. "Knock from now on, would you?" she said.
Betty shook her head. "Sorry, Cheri...." But her eyes seemed to linger longer than was necessary on Cheri's twin, bulging tits, on her hair-thatched cunt. "Well, we're off...." she said, recovering her poise. "Don't wait up...."
Cheri nodded. Betty smiled, took one last lingering look at Cheri's nakedness, and then she closed the door behind her.
Cheri paused mid-stroke with her brush when she heard the sound of the car driving up outside. She walked over to the window and looked out, then spotted Veronica's silver-blue Porsche parked at the curb and the woman opening the door and getting out. She pried free the latch on the window and opened it, and as Veronica walked up the driveway she yelled down, telling her to come on in.
Thinking back on it later, Cheri wasn't exactly sure how it had all happened. It certainly wasn't something she had planned, or wanted, or even considered as a possibility. She had put on her artist's smock ... Cheri wasn't quite that liberated that she was going to parade around in the nude in front of a chick she didn't know all that well, much less in front of a girl whose sexual tastes might include her ... then brought Veronica and a bottle of good red wine and two long-stemmed glassed back to the studio. Their conversation had started off very light, with a discussion of art techniques and the work they had been doing. Veronica had brought her sketch book with her and proceeded to thumb through it and show Cheri a number of her own rather professional quality sketches, pointing out various ways in which she handled shading, the placement of the figure, and the depiction of muscular tone. Her work was definately impressive, and Cheri was certain that Veronica could help her with her own more stumbling efforts. Bolstered by the wine Cheri let Veronica see the painting she was working on, and the other woman was kind enough to praise it without being too adulatory, yet she was also willing to point out the areas where the composition could be improved. Hell, Cheri knew it needed work, and Veronica was right about the areas that needed fixing up. That was when when Veronica started talking about the limitations of working off of photographs, and offered to pose in the nude for Cheri.
"I'm not shy, are you, Cheri?" Veronica asked.
Cheri could feel her face heating up from the moment that Veronica had suggested it.
"You're not afraid of what you might do, once you see my glorious body in the nude, are you, Cheri?" Veronica laughed.
Actually, Cheri realized, there had been a kind of unspoken assumption between them that Veronica would be willing to pose in the nude for her, or at least the possibility had not been ruled out, all along.
Once Veronica started undressing, things just seemed to start snowballing from there. Maybe what Veronica said had some truth to it, Maybe Cheri was a little concerned about what might happen if the other woman took off her clothes. Cheri wasn't comfortable with the idea of sex with another woman, and the reason she wasn't comfortable was not because she had no interest in the subject, it was precisely the opposite reason.
It happened in the same way that the event with Betty had. Unconsciously, just seeming to build without either of them really pushing it to happen. Cheri watched Veronica undress, took her clothing from her and placed it neatly on a nearby table, and as each garment was removed she realized more and more that she had always been attracted to the older woman. Veronica's frilly blouse came off first, and Cheri's eyes were fixated on what lay beneath. Veronica was wearing a very sheer, see-through bra of thin fabric that did very little to hide her almost huge tits and the oversized disks of her reddish-brown nipples, the tips pointed and spiking through quite visibly. She unzipped and stepped out of her skirt and, for the first time, Cheri was able to view closer the shape of the woman's full, feminine hips that almost begged for a good fucking, the shape of her muscular well-aerobicized ass-cheeks underneath the wispy strip of silkiness that was her panties. Then Veronica stripped off her bra, unashamed of what lay beneath it, and Cheri had to marvel at the pair of tits that sprang free from the sheer bra cups, the pair of tits that rivaled her own in beauty, exceeded her own in size. They were proportioned differently, she thought. In comparison to Cheri's, they were longer, sensual in a different way from her own baby pink-capped knockers. They were ... how could she describe it ... lusty, womanly, even animalistic in their sensuality.
Veronica had, perhaps, five years on Cheri, and those years had imparted something smoldering, hot, terribly sexual to those tits of hers. Cheri stared at the big brown eyes of her nipples, fascinated by their dimpled size and perfection, the way they perched at the ends of Veronica's big tits, the way the spikes angled upward like the spike of a cock angling to sink itself into a ready and willing cunt.
And the women made love.
At the time it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do, even though Cheri was to have second thoughts about what she did later, to wonder about what motivated her to do it in the first place. Their passion, whether Cheri had been aware of it or not, had been building, smoldering beneath the surface for an awfully long time, and in the setting of Cheri's art studio, it erupted.
They fucked by the soft flickering of candlelight, the shadows revealing, concealing their bodies as they moved sinuously together like one body on the couch. A thousand erotic paintings appeared and disappeared as the women's hands, legs, crawled over each other, touching, molding, caressing. They had both had enough wine so that they were completely uninhibited and, for Cheri, it was the moment for her to find out all of the pleasures that another woman could offer, the pleasures that had always been concealed from her by embarrassment at making love to another woman, by the fear of what other people might think or say.
She arched upward, and her mouth met Veronica's sensual, almost cruel mouth. She could hear the intake of the other woman's breath as she dodged her tongue into hers, almost like a prick seeking out and finding its own wet, sucking hole. Their tongues twined like wet, glistening snakes, tasting, caressing, sucking, while their hands feasted on each other's beautiful bodies, crawling up and down the lengths. Cheri felt like she was completely out of control; as if something else was controlling her body as she writhed, coiled with the other woman, the shadows swirling, pouring, hypnotizing them, intoxicating their senses.
It was as if there were two cunts and one body as the woman worked each other's snatches with their fingers, sliding through the warm, wet folds of each other's pussyslices, diving deeper into the hot, simmering interiors, diving all the way in to pump and plunge and drive ... to drive them both to he edge of their ecstasy.
Veronica clung to Cheri's body, her mouth affixed to, her tongue swirling and lapping at the hard little digit of her nipple, sucking it, chewing it as her hand drove three fingers hard into her cunt, rocking her ass with each plunge, making her pant as Veronica sustained the blissful, punishing strokes.
Cheri flicked and vibrated her ringers into the depth of Veronica's fur-fringed hole, completely aware of where the woman was at, of what it would take to take her all the way.
They fucked each other with their fingers with a hot, sustained fury until all of the small sensations of their fucking seemed to add up, to add fire to each other, to build until they coaxed forth their boiling orgasms. It seemed to build inside both of their bodies simultaneously, rising like a flood of sensation behind the gates of their cunts until finally those gates burst and both of their bodies were raped with explosive fire, and they screamed and gargled out their ecstasy, bucking their bodies together as the fingers of sensation ripped through their senses.
"I had never really expected that to happen," Veronica said, toying her finger around the soft edge of the nipple of the other woman lying beside her, her eyes fixed on the poignant little cleft at the end of the nipple spike. "I had always wanted it to happen, but I had never expected it to ... Is this your first experience with a woman? I mean, it doesn't really matter to me, but...."
"Second," Cheri said, "but the last time was quite a while ago. I enjoyed my first time, I enjoyed it a great deal, I just don't know why it never happened again...."
And that was when, for the second time that day, Betty walked into Cheri's studio and saw something that she wasn't expecting to see.
It took a second for Betty's eyes to become accustomed to the dim light in the studio, but when she saw Cheri and Veronica lying on the couch together, twined naked about each other, she froze, disbelieving her eyes. She just stood there, looking at the women, her face not betraying what she was thinking, and then she said:
"I got home early."
Neither of the other two women said anything.
"I didn't expect...." Even Betty couldn't understand why she was in a sort of a state of shock, stunned to see her best friend and a woman together. Rapidly she tried to piece together what she was seeing, to understand it. But before the understanding arrived, the tears did.
"You fuckin' sonofabitch! You fucking lesbian whore!" Betty screamed shrilly, and then she turned and ran out of the room.