Samantha’s Lesbian Revelation

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As college roommates go, Samantha was about as good as they get. She was a mature, sexy, woman of the world at 20. Her grades were good, she didn’t hog the common room television and she didn’t come in at all hours of the night.

We had her set of friends, I had mine, and are paths seldom crossed except when we were in our room or at breakfast at The Owl.

She knew when to leave me along, knew when to offer words of encouragement, and pitched in to keep out home away from home a pleasant place and relatively livable.

Still, heading into our second year as roommates, Samantha remained a bit of a mystery to me. While she had a lot of friends, she didn’t seem to many guy friends. I on the other hand, had a slew of them, but most were either a little too nerdy for my taste or hooked up and dated friends rather than me.

Samantha and I would joke at how we had to date Mr. Right Vibe from time to time, although not knowingly in each other’s company. I once did wake to moans coming in the middle of the night from the other side of the room, but quickly put my pillow over my head to block Samantha’s personal moments with herself from my ears.

My eyes were opened to a new side of Samantha one Friday night at a mixer in the student union. There I was sharing a pitcher of draft beer with some of my sorority sisters when one asked how it was like to room with a woman like Samantha.

“She’s a great roomie,” I replied. “Sam couldn’t be any nicer. And what I really like is that she is always willing to do her share around our room. I mean, I’ve never had a roommate who actually helped with the laundry before.”

There were a series of nervous smiles around the table.

“Uh, Mary, that’s probably because she’s smelling your panties or doing whatever they do!” said Courtney.

I looked at the girl as if she were from Mars. “That’s gross,” was all my mouth could muster.

“Oh come on, Mary, tell us, what’s it like to live with a lesbian?” said Dee. “I mean, you aren’t, well, you know…”

“I am surely not!” I replied with an air of indignity. “And neither is Samantha.”

The table was full of women staring at each other, as if a major revelation was about to me made. Finally, Courtney broke the spell. “Mary, I can’t believe you didn’t know this, especially since she’s your roommate, but your darling roomie is a lesbo. She dating Karen Ficaro, and I was told she had a thing with Mrs. England last year.”

“Mrs. England, surely not,” was my incredulous reply. “The history prof? You have got to be kidding.”

“It’s no joke,” said Dee. “Jennifer Cross saw the two of them together at Arnie’s Bar down the shore once, and they were all over each other in a booth. No, your roommate likes girls. I mean, she doesn’t have guys calling all day and all night now, does she?”

Come to think of it, Samantha was somewhat quiet about her personal life. We’d talk and joke about boys from time to time, but I had never met a male date of hers. I had been around, though, when she left the dorm with a girl friend of hers. Somehow, in my own naive state, I never put one and one together to make two.

My eyes and ears were wide open from that point forward. I didn’t say anything, but I think my inner emotions must have show through for late one Tuesday night Samantha called over to me after lights out.

“Mary, is something wrong? Have I offended you in any way,” asked Samantha, concern in her voice. “Come on, you can tell me.”

Whatever possessed me, I can’t recall, but after a bit of a pause I merely asked my roommate if she liked girls. I think I said something to the tune of, “Uh, well, since you asked, Sam, uh, well…”

Not a lot of substance to that sentence, I thought. I stammered some more, until finally Samantha begged me to spit it out.

“Are you a lesbian?” I replied.

There was quiet from the other side of the room. I heard covers moving, as Samantha sat up in bed.

“No,” was the word, but there was more. She flipped on the light and looked at me. “I have to admit I don’t like guys as much as the average girl, I guess, and yes, I have been with a woman, so I guess I would have to say I’m bi.”

“You mean you…”

“Uh huh, I’ve been with a woman. Yes. Do you hate me?” questioned my roommate.

I didn’t bursa eskort bayan know the answer to that. I mean, I surely didn’t hate her. I’m no prude, but I’d been brought up to believe that it was the cock that was the thing girls had to be wary of, that it was a penis which could cause us all kinds of trouble. I hadn’t spent much time thinking of women in any vague sort of a sexual way. Yet here my friend and roommate declares that she has had intimate relationships with another female.

Nothing came to mind, so I merely said, “Okay. I’m fine with that.” The room was quiet for a while, and I felt like I had to say something. But I didn’t know what. So I merely copped out. “I’m going to bed now, Sam. Good night and sleep tight.”

The subject didn’t come up again for several weeks. In that time my mind was a jumble of emotions. I really didn’t think it was terrible, that Samantha was a switch-hitter as my friends said. I really just didn’t know what to think or say. Samantha was so normal in so many ways, she was a friend, and if she, well, liked girls as well as guys, who was I do put it down.

The more I thought about it, the whole idea of being with another woman intrigued me. This despite knowing in the pit of my heart that men and women were the chosen way to share the sexual experience. I didn’t particularly like my own body, but I surely looked at some of the other girls with envy. Some looked good in whatever they wore, others were bountiful in the right places. I was merely plain.

My curiosity finally got the best of me one Friday night. Samantha and I had hit the sack, separately, just after midnight. I had spent the night on an uneventful movie date, one which ended with a peck on the cheek from a guy who really didn’t do anything for me. Sam had come in just after me, and after heading down the hall for a shower, re-entered the room clothed only in a bath towel.

I looked up from my book when she re-entered the room. As was recent custom, she quickly dried off then threw on a tee shirt and panties for bed.

“Hey Sam, you know it’s okay if you take your time and really dry off,” I said with a chuckle.

She laughed. “Well with my bodacious body I just didn’t want to turn you on so much you would turn into a l-e-s-b-i-a-n or something!”

We shared a laugh, split a coke, and then slipped under the covers of our respective beds. After a while, I got up the nerve to ask the long unasked question.

“Sam, what’s it like? I mean, you know, with another woman?” There. I said it. I asked the question I had wanted to ask since her revelation.

“Do you really want to know?” she replied?

I thought about her question for a bit before answering in the affirmative.

“It’s very exciting, it’s satisfying, it can be very special, but I think that’s true no matter who your partner is,” said Samantha. “Don’t you feel something like that with guys you’ve been with? I know I have felt that way with guys. I think what turns me on about a woman is how sensitive we are. I mean, how many times have the guys you’ve dated left you wanting for something more. Now, I’m not saying it’s for everyone, but I know that being with a woman can be extremely satisfying for me. If…it’s the right woman.”

We talked for more than an hour about some of her relationships, some of the highs, some of the lows. Samantha revealed that she lost her virginity in the back seat of a Ford after her senior prom, having just turned 18. She had sex with three other men since the first, but had enjoyed five women since her first foray into the wild side of sexuality. She told me that the most intense orgasms she has had have come from a woman, but that she still enjoys and has yearnings for cock.

I relayed my three experiences with men, and how two were less than enjoyable quick romps. A relationship with Jon, a guy I had dated for two years, was satisfying in the sex department, despite his being a jerk for leaving me with no warning for a tart from college.

We laughed, so much that it nearly turned to tears, as we discussed our highs and lows of dating and sex. Like the time Samantha’s parents caught her asleep in their bed — along with a boyfriend. Or the time I was orally pleasing Jon in a parking lot after dinner when a bright police bursa otele gelen eskort bayan flashlight caught us in the act.

Along the way I steered the conversation back toward her lesbian tendencies, and wondered which was more satisfying to her, guys or girls?

“I enjoy sex, and I think being with women as well as men is the best of both worlds,” she said, after thinking for a bit. “It’s not for everyone, I understand that, but I like it and while it isn’t really totally socially acceptable I make it work.”

By the time we drifted off to sleep I knew that Samantha was a special friend. She had trusted me with her most intimate of secrets, and I felt comfortable in knowing I could maintain that trust.

Over the next couple months we spoke numerous times of our sexual exploits, not so much in detail, but in concept. By that I mean we did go through a blow-by-blow, grope by grope, reciting of what we did in the privacy of our places of rendezvous, but we did discuss the good times…and bad.

I was having a particularly difficult time in youth psychology class, struggling with some of the parenting concepts that seemed so foreign to me. My professor, Mr. Hamilton, was a constant pain in the ass, droning on for hours on end then hitting us with pop quizzes. While I was carrying a B average in all my classes except his, the D that I would get from him would cause all kinds of unrest at home. Hence, I studied, and studied, and studied. I asked questions of the prof, I asked for help, I did all the things I was supposed to do.

Still, heading into my final, I knew I needed at least a B on the exam to pull my grade into C level.

I had spent the entire day before the exam in the library, going over every piece of material. I hit the dorm room at 10 p.m., exhausted, at wit’s end, and near frantic with my mind jumbled with facts, concepts and figures.

“You look a mess,” said Samantha when I entered the room.

“Gee thanks!” I said with mock indignation. “I’m coming from my makeover and massage and I feel great!”

“Don’t you wish,” said came her motherly command with a smile. “Hey, hit the shower, it will perk you up. Then we’ll get lights out and get you some rest. You have a big day tomorrow and you need to be rested and relaxed.”

I knew she was right. I undressed, grabbed a bathrobe given to me as a gift from my mother, and padded down the hallways to the common shower room. There I saw Melissa working on her hair. I slipped into one of the compact shower stalls, removed the robe, and reached for the faucet. It took a bit for the water to be the way I liked it, but once I stepped under the spray I knew the shower was the right decision. Lathering up, the warm water felt heavenly as it cascaded down on my body. I spent a luxurious 15 minutes under the pellets before emerging in a better frame of mind.

My towel drank most of the water from my body while the robe collected the residue, and I walked back to the room. Some of the tenseness had left me, but as my mind drifted ahead to the exam some returned. Entering our room, I finished drying off then doffed a blue baby doll nightie with matching panties. A leftover from a romantic weekend rendezvous several months back, the soft cloth felt good against my body.

“You look marvelous in that, Mary,” said Samantha. “Did the shower relax you a bit?”

Nodding my head in agreement with her thought, I dried my hair. “I think I’m ready for tomorrow, but there is so much to remember. He’s a stickler for details.”

Samantha looked at me with questioning eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she gently spoke. “But I know in situations like these, when I’m really stressed out, a massage works wonders. I’m volunteering if you’re a woman in need.”

Months ago — before THE revelation — Sam had given me one of her patented massages. It was marvelous. But since her revelation she hadn’t volunteered nor had I asked for her to work her magic fingers on my aching muscles. I desperately wanted her to work wonders on my back, I needed to relieve some of the tension, and after some deliberation, decided to go for it.

“Sam, how about one of your $20 massages,” I joked.

She laughed, bursa eve gelen escort “Oh, you want a quickie! Suit yourself.”

We laughed at our nervousness, but soon I was prone on my bed and Samantha was kneading my neck. She moved atop my back, continuing to massage my neck. It was heavenly, and soon I began to forget about my worries and exams and such and soaked in the relaxing hands of my roommate.

From my neck she moved down my back, this time pushing down hard then alternating with softer caresses. After about 15 minutes I was ready to drift off into never never land. Still the massage continued, slowly, lovingly, down my back and to the top of my ass cheeks where she paused.

“Mary?” came the question. “Do you want me to continue or are you uncomfortable?”

I didn’t need to think. “I’m in heaven, Sam, don’t stop.”

She didn’t, slipping her hands over my panties and caressing my ass. I couldn’t help myself, and I began to slowly rock against her hands and the bed. I was getting excited. It wasn’t long before I felt myself at the point of no return. Stop now and I would drift off to sleep feeling relaxed and wonderful. Continue and I would cross over a line.

I crossed the line.

“Oh, that feels so good, Sam, keep going. Do what you want to do.” I heard the words escape my mouth, but couldn’t believe it was me saying them. But when I felt Samantha peeling the panties down my thighs I knew full well that I opened the door and began a new walk.

Samantha removed my panties and slowly re-started her caressing of my neck, back and butt. Her hands were soft, loving and sent chills up and down my spine. She dipped a finger down my ass crack, slipping around front of my body and stopping atop my mound.

“Oooh, you’re wet!” she cooed. “I think you like this massage.”

Like it? I loved it. I smiled into the pillow as she slowly inserted one, then two fingers into my moist cunt. I rocked against her hand and moaned as the heavenly fingers slipped into my womanhood.

With one hand Sam caressed by buttocks while the other was busy on my pussy. It was an incredible feeling, and I felt my orgasm coming. It wasn’t long before I exploded on her hand. I wanted to tell her how good it felt, but words didn’t escape my lips. I basked in the tingling orgasm and relaxed as I slowly came down from my high.

Samantha lifted her leg off my back and slipped off the bed, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. But it wasn’t for long, as I felt her slowly push my body over toward the fall. I opened my eyes and looked, spying Samantha kneeling on the floor while parting my legs. She licked her lips then bent over toward my pussy.

I have to admit there had been enjoyment in nearly every case of a guy going down on me, but the feeling of Sam’s tongue on my clitoris was incredible. She slowly began licking my pussy, slipping her tongue in, out and about my pussy, and then doing it again. All the while she was fingering the valley of my ass cheeks. From time to time she would dip a finger against my puckered anus, and after a while slipped the tip of her finger into my dark hole while licking my pussy.

Once again I exploded, this time letting out a yell of enjoyment. After my main orgasm Samantha continued to lick my pussy and brought me to several other orgasms before resting her cheeks on my wetness.

“Oh Sam….that was, well, unbelievable!” was all I could manage to say.

After a bit Samantha rose, kissed my cheek, and pulled the covers over my body. “I think you will do just swell on your exam, Mary. Now, get to sleep!”

I think I was asleep before she could climb into her bed, dreaming of those fabulous hands and marvelously talented lips. I slept like a baby, awoke to the smell of a pair of coffees from Casper’s truck out back of our dorm.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” said my roommate. “Sleep well?”

I smiled at her, nodded my head, and replied. “That was the best night of relaxing sleep I’ve had in ages.”

“Good. Now get ready for class, you have a big day ahead.”

I lounged for a couple minutes before changing into my lucky exam outfit — jeans and a tee top — with sexy undies underneath for Samantha’s benefit. Once presentable, I walked over, cooed a thank you to my roommate, and kissed her on the cheek.

Thinking back, I surprised myself in a couple ways. First, that I wasn’t mortified by what we had done the night before, but second, that I wasn’t totally embarrassed the morning after.

Nor was I after acing the exam and returning to my room, where that very evening I returned my roommate’s favor of the night before.

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