Lesbian Fever Ch. 1

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My name is BethAnne. This story is about my relationship with a girl named Linda. I am not ashamed to admit that I am a lesbian. I wasn’t always a lesbian, but I have been ever since Linda came into my life. My life will never be the same, and I can’t see ever returning to the “straight” life again. I am too much in love with Linda to do that. I don’t care what others may think, I just want to have the freedom to make my own choice about my sexuality.

I am 23 years old. My friends, both male and female, tell me I am pretty. I am a natural blonde. I prefer to wear my hair perfectly straight, hanging down to my shoulders. My eyes are as deep a blue as there can be. My figure will not put Marilyn Monroe to shame, but my breasts are not smallish by anyone’s standard. I exercise often and watch my diet carefully; there is little, if any, fat on my body.

Like Linda, I am a fashion model. In fact, that is how we met. We were both auditioning for a magazine centerpiece on sexy lingerie. I was immediately taken by her exquisite beauty–long strawberry blonde hair, classic facial features, sexy green eyes, and one of the nicest bodies I had ever seen. Actually, on our first meeting, I saw just about all of her body since we shared the same room to change into the several items of wispy wearing apparel we were required to wear in order to audition. I still wonder, after knowing as many men as I had, and the deep sexual enjoyment that I shared with so many of them, why I felt a strange sexual attraction to this breathtakingly beautiful woman. I guessed her to have just turned 20, which she confirmed right off by telling me she had only graduated from high school several months ago. She was a non-stop talker who didn’t mind spilling her soul to the right listener. She was forthright, sincere, and amazingly blunt. She told things as they were.

As I opened the door to our shared dressing room, Linda was standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing the first lingerie she was scheduled to model. The outfit looked perfect on her. As I entered the room, she turned to me, somewhat startled. The skimpy bra and panties she was wearing didn’t cover much of her supple body. Her breasts strained against the white lace of the pretty bra, nipples pointedly pouting from the center. The mini-panties barely covered her pubis; through the embroidered lace I was sure I saw a light-colored, curly triangle.

I think she noticed how awe-struck I was about her. She smiled broadly, “Oh, that’s o.k. I thought it was the photographer. He’s a typical dirty old man–already made two passes at me. I told him to fuck- off, so I don’t think the job is mine. I’m Linda Reynolds,” she continued, holding her hand out straight to shake mine.

“Hi, Linda, my name’s BethAnne Hoffman. Pleased to meet you. The photographer’s assistant said there was some lingerie in here for me to change into.”

Linda laughed a little, taking her hand away from mine. “The assistant’s name is Martha. Be careful–she’s a butch dyke who would do a number on her own sister if she had the opportunity.” This girl didn’t pull any punches. I was shocked, but laughed anyway.

“Here are some more frillies,” she said, pointing to a drawer filled with lacy underwear. “The matching pieces are pinned together. With these kinds of outfits, one size usually fits all. What do you think of this one?” she asked, looking down at her own petite bra and panty combination.

“Very sexy!” I replied in all honesty.

She smiled. Her gleaming white teeth were perfect, as was her complexion. A few freckles dotted her cheekbones, but freckles seemed to be in this year. They made her look even younger.

“Here’s a hanger for your things,” she said, handing me a wooden hanger. “I’m going out there and face the music!” As she walked past me, I was enchanted with the strong smell of what must have been rather expensive perfume. She carried herself extremely well with her long, girlish legs.

“Good luck,” I said as she closed the door.

For the next hour or so, we paraded back and forth in some rather daring and provocative outfits. Martha “accidentally” touched my breasts more than once as she helped position me for the camera. The photographer propositioned me every time I came out. I had been doing this for three years now, so I was used to it. Linda wasn’t. She complained bitterly.

To no one’s real surprise, I got the job, probably because I had the will to put up with the photographer’s philandering without telling him off. I called it “holding him off”. It always worked– keeping the lechers at a safe distance long enough to get the job. I promised myself when I entered this business that I would never trade my body for a modeling job, and I never had to. Yes, I’ve been to bed with some of the photographers, but I never did so to wiggle my way into work like some of the girls did. I guess that’s what turned me on to Linda. She never did either.

By the time the modeling session was over, it was supper time. I asked Linda if she would Escort Bayan like to have a bite to eat with me at a local restaurant. She said she was a little low on funds, but when I offered to treat, she readily accepted, but only on the condition that when she got her next pay check she could reciprocate. So we had dinner and got to know each other better.

That evening, she invited me back to her apartment. We chatted most of the night about everything and anything, except, strangely, she did not once mention anything about men. It was several days later, when I invited her to my place, that I brought up the subject.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Linda?” I asked.

I thought I saw her blush slightly. “Not really,” she answered. “I am too darned busy for that right now. I want things to settle down a bit first. How about you?”

I told her about my last short-lived affair with a rich married man. I didn’t tell her he was the best lover I had ever known, but I told her that I still missed him. That was the extent of our conversation about men for the rest of that evening.

The night of June 14th I will never forget. Linda phoned me at one of my jobs and invited me over. She told me that she was feeling a little low and needed some cheering up. I happened to be wearing one of my shorter miniskirts that day, a pretty red one that I was afraid to sit down in, lest I show the world what I was wearing underneath. But I felt comfortable when I arrived at Linda’s, and did not worry about my demeanor with my skirt because we were of the same sex and we had already seen about all there was to see of each other.

She answered the door wearing a quite pretty outfit consisting of a light blue skirt, hemmed at mid- thigh, and a matching long-sleeved, turtleneck sweater. I could see she was not wearing hose, but her exquisitely tanned legs made up for the lack thereof. She smiled as I entered and immediately remarked that she liked my sexy miniskirt. “It looks perfect on you,” she said. “You have just the right legs for it! Come on in, there’s a seven and seven already on the coffee table for you. I’ll be right back.”

She returned to the living room about a minute later with two aspirins in her hand. She chugged them down along with her dry martini. “I’ve had a headache and a slight fever all day long,” she said as she fell into the chair across from the sofa where I sat, quickly folding her legs beneath her and sitting on her feet.

“It’s not like you to be sick,” I said. “This isn’t the same Linda I know.”

She laughed. “Well, it’s near that time of the month. I usually run a low-grade fever a couple days before it comes. In fact, the doctor suggested that I keep an accurate check on the exact temperature every few hours, but I’m afraid to do it.”

“Afraid, why?” I asked.

She blushed profusely. “Because he said to do it, uh, you know, in my bottom! I don’t think I like that idea very much.”

“You’re silly,” I said, uncrossing my legs and inadvertently giving Linda a beaver shot into the crotch of my pantyhose. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, but I did catch her eyes looking straight up my skirt for a few brief seconds.

“I guess doing it to yourself is, well, you know, putting something up your own behind is a lot different than when my mom used to do it when I was a baby. I guess I’m old fashioned. BethAnne, didn’t you say you used to be a nurse?” she asked.

“Uh-uh,” I replied. “And in case you’re going to ask, I did have to check patients’ temperatures that way many times. You just tell them to roll over and do it. It’s that simple!”

Linda laughed. “I wish it was that simple.”

“Look, silly, we’re good friends. Do you want me to do it for you?” I asked matter-of-factly. I didn’t think she would say yes, but then again I don’t even know why I even asked the question.

“You mean you wouldn’t mind playing nurse again?” she asked in return, a cute smile on her face.

I realized she was serious. “No, of course not, if you’re that scared of doing it yourself I’d be more than happy.” I felt a little uncomfortable, but my nurse’s training had left me immune to many things, and sticking things in people’s bottoms was one of them.

“Oh, BethAnne, that would be too much to ask. Let’s not even worry about it.”

“Now listen,” I said, “we’ll get you over the hump this one time, then you can do it yourself when you see how easy it is.” I don’t know why I was pressing her so much.

“Well, o.k. Where, uh where should we do it?” she asked.

“Anywhere is fine, Linda.” I began to feel even more uncomfortable, like I was being led into this, but I still felt only a deep friendship with the pretty girl. “Well, I really hate to ask you, but…”

“No ‘buts’ about it. Where’s the damn thermometer?” My voice became stern.

“It’s in the master bathroom next to my bedroom,” she said, still blushing deeply.

“Then get your buns into the bedroom, little Miss Linda!” I quipped, arising from the sofa with my drink in my hand. “Come with me, young lady,” I said, pulling her up from the chair with my outstretched hand.

We marched into the bedroom, still holding hands. I was getting a strange sensation about all this, like a driving force that was attracting me to this pretty girl. “It’s in the medicine cabinet,” she said as we arrived in her bedroom.

“Do you have any Vaseline?” I asked.

“Same place,” she replied. “What should I do now?”

“Just lie on the bed on your tummy; I’ll be right back.”

When I returned holding the jar of Vaseline and the glass-tubed rectal thermometer, Linda was lying flat on her stomach, still wearing her light blue skirt. Her hands were crossed over each other on top of a pillow, with her forehead resting on top of her hands.

“Is the patient ready?” I joked as I sat down on the bed near her left hip.

“I feel funny about this, BethAnne.”

“You’re worse than a baby! It’s all very clinical. Look, I’m going to take your temperature. That’s all. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ve done this many times.” Her bare legs were closed tightly together. I admired once more how tan they looked. I could see she was also wearing a white slip. Her feet were rather petite.

“Okay, I need to get your skirt up a bit if you don’t mind,” I said, surprising myself that my voice was slightly husky, as if I were nervous. After all, I’d done this hundreds of times to male and female patients, but this was somehow strangely different. Putting the thermometer and Vaseline jar down on the bed, I moved my hands to the hem of her skirt. “I’m going to need your help a bit here. Lift your hips off the bed some so I can get your skirt up over your hips.”

As soon as she lifted her body a few inches off the bed, I slowly began pulling the soft cottony material up her gorgeous legs. The skirt seemed to glide over the top of her satin slip. I softly patted the cotton fabric of her skirt into place around her waist. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the way her silky white, delicately embroidered slip clung tightly to her ass. I had never been attracted physically to a member of my own sex before, but somehow this was different, and I think that Linda not only knew it, but wanted it to be that way just as much as I did.

The white, shiny slip, slit at the hem on each side of her legs, looked pretty on her. She liked wearing sexy lingerie, and looked like a million dollars in whatever she wore. I ran my hand over the back of the shimmering silk, soothing the wrinkles in it. She didn’t seem to mind at all.

“I feel kind of funny,” she said, easing her body back down into the downy softness of the bedspread.

“You’re such a baby!” I quipped. “Lift your body off the bed just a bit more again, I need to move your slip up too.”

Keeping her legs still tightly closed, Linda raised up once more. This time, instead of holding the hem and raising it as I did with her skirt, I put my hand on the outside of her bare legs and pushed upward, drawing the slip upward in the process with the backs of my hands. Her legs were smooth as silk beneath my touch.

“I hope my undies are clean!” she laughed.

The panties were pale blue and spotless, bikini-styled, and appeared to have been painted on her ass, so tightly did they cling, like her slip, to her nicely rounded buttocks. The rayon fabric was solid except for a small band of lace all around the top of the wispy material. Half of the crack of her creamy white ass spilled out over the top of the undies. Quickly I pushed the slip up and out of the way, bunching it up with her skirt at her waist.

“I’m going to take your undies all the way off if you don’t mind,” I said. “It will make my job easier.”

Without waiting for a response, I placed my fingers inside the top of the pretty panties at either side of her waist and eased them down her backside, revealing more and more of her well-rounded ass. With the panties at mid-thigh, I saw the stark contrast of her deeply tanned legs next to her alabaster buttocks. Once again, she dropped the weight of her body back into the softness of the bedspread.

“Where did you get such a beautiful tan?” I asked as I continued to pull the light blue panties down her still closed legs. I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering back to her lovely ass as I eased the undies off her feet.

“I like to use the sun lamp,” she said thickly. My eyes stayed glued to her creamy-white split pumpkin. Where her lower ass met the very top of her thighs, just beneath her anal region, I could see a few of the strawberry blonde curls of her pussy peeking out between her legs. My heart was beating fast as I tossed the undies to the side. She was naked now from the waist down.

“You have a nice little butt, Linda,” I remarked, my voice thickening even more. We both seemed to know that this was no longer a clinical temperature-taking process. I don’t know why I was turned on to her. “I wish I had your body.”

She laughed. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of yourself, BethAnne.”

My hands were trembling for some reason as I screwed the top off the Vaseline jar. The jar top dropped silently to the bed sheet as I moved the tip of my right index finger into the lubricant. The finger emerged, glistening. My throat felt dry. My forehead was beginning to sweat. “O.K., this is going to feel a little cold at first. I’m going to put some Vaseline on you to make it easier. Will you please open your legs just a little bit for me?” Obligingly, her legs moved about three to four inches apart, enough for me to catch a perfect glimpse of the thatch of hair between her legs that perfectly matched that of her strawberry blonde head. Between the sparse growth of curls I could even see the cuntal crack running between the pouting pussy lips.

Nervously, I moved the thumb and index finger of my left had to her lower ass crease, on either side of her rectal region, and spread the cheeks apart far enough to expose the crinkly, puckered circle of her anus. “OH!” she cried softly as I moved the glistening gob of Vaseline over the slightly stretched rosehole.

“Easy,” I said as I gently pushed the tip of my finger directly into the center of Linda’s anus, lubricating the outer portion of the crinkled ‘O’. She must have liked the feeling of my soft touch against her nether opening, because she opened her legs a bit wider to accommodate my movements. I lingered over the area, rubbing the gel all over the anal region, sliding my finger back and forth over the yielding rim of her asshole.

“Mmm. That feels sort of good,” she whispered.

I was glad she couldn’t see me blushing profusely. “It’s not supposed to feel good, Linda. It’s only in preparation for taking your temperature.”

I knew she was getting turned on by all this, and I liked the warm sensations stirring inside my own body. I even began to feel a little wetness and that all-too-familiar stirring between my own legs.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded sexily.

For the first time, I realized this was heading in a way that was wrong. My puritanical up-bringing told me to stop. “Linda, this isn’t right. I was only supposed to be taking your temperature and you’re wiggling all over the place, telling me it feels good,” I said, pulling my finger away from her lower ass crease.

“It did feel good, BethAnne. I liked what you were doing. Just do it a little bit more,” she begged in a thick, sexy tone. “Just pretend this is a hospital and you’re a nurse once more.”

I don’t know why, but I moved my index finger back where it was. I stared straight into the target area, entranced by the pretty shape and texture of her well oiled anus. I moved the tip of my finger to the center of her puckered hole and pushed inward slightly. I was surprised how easily my finger broke the plane of the sphincter muscle and nestled just inside her rectum.

“OH!” she gasped as she felt the finger break through the anal door. Boldly, I eased it in just a bit further. The tightening anus offered no resistance to my lubricated digit as I watched the finger slide in to the second knuckle. The beautiful girl hissed between her teeth as she sucked in her breath as she felt the finger touch the delicate walls of her warm rectal canal. The lining of the canal was unbelievably soft to the touch. I felt her sphincter muscle clutch against the invading digit several times.

When I moved my finger inside her slightly, she nearly jumped off the bed. I knew we had gone too far, but there was something telling me to go on, not to stop. I slowly withdrew my finger from her anus and reached over to the night table for the thermometer. She looked back at me with her sexy green eyes, closed them slowly, then opened her mouth slightly. When she opened her eyes again, she was looking straight into my soul.

“I don’t want the thermometer right now, BethAnne,” she said thickly. “Please put your finger back in me and lubricate me some more.”

As she spoke, she lifted her hips off the bed slightly and raised her buttocks invitingly. There was no longer any pretense to what was happening between us. I wanted my finger back inside her rectal orifice anyway. I felt a strange power over her with my digit impaled there.

“Well, I guess I should use a bit more of the Vaseline to make it easier,” I said, my face turning scarlet, as I tried to rationalize my behavior. I didn’t know what was coming over me. Placing the thermometer back on the night stand, I opened her split pumpkin with my left hand, and eased my right index finger right back into her.

“AHHHH!” she cried, “that feels so nice!”

Reflexively, she started churning her lower body very slowly and sexily against the invading finger, plunging it in still deeper into the warm recesses of her rectum. Feeling brave, I pushed my hand forward, driving index finger all the way into her anal cavity. Her sphincter muscle once again began to alternately open and close over the lower part of my finger. Linda was breathing heavily now, gyrating the lower half of her body in small concentric circles in a steady sexual rhythm.

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