Lesbian Fantasy Erotica
"Janna in the Shower" a sexy story by Anna Roy
I began to think my roommate was in love with me only a few days into the semester.
When I met Janna, the day we moved in, the first thing I noticed was that she was very…touchy. I came into our dorm room and saw her arranging her bedspread, and she turned around.
“You must be Heidi,” she said, and I held out my hand. She rushed right by it and grabbed me in a big hug. I was kind of uncomfortable. I’m not from a “hugging” family, and Janna had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen on anyone my age. She mashed them right into me, and they practically smothered my own chest. I always felt my tits were small but she made them feel like they didn’t exist. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her.
Right in my ear, she said “I’m so excited to meet you.”
Then, I thought maybe it was only in my imagination that she had rubbed her chest against me a little emphatically. I hoped it was just my imagination because when she pulled back to look me over, my nipples were hard and poking against my t-shirt. I hadn’t worn a bra; with breasts my size I don’t often need to, but I was embarrassed.
“It’s great to meet you,” I said, a little shyly and then I was more embarrassed because I thought she looked at my nipples.
We spent the rest of that day and the next few days really busy with all the usual kind of stuff that happens when you begin college: orientation, meeting all the other people on our floor, registering for classes and getting textbooks. Janna and I went most places together. She was from out-of-state and didn’t know anyone on campus, she told me this while we were in line at the bookstore. I had my textbooks in a basket; and Janna was holding her pile of books up in front of her.
“Do you want me to help with those?” I asked her.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” she said, and she lifted up her leg to help push the books up a little as her grip slipped. One of the books started sliding out at the bottom of the stack and I dropped my basket and grabbed it. Janna laughed and said “Thanks,” as I held the books there. Then she lifted up her leg again, to push them up. I was looking down at the books I was holding up, and I saw all the way up under her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties, not even a thong, and I could see smooth white skin all the way up to where the skirt, a light blue nearly-not-there thing, had fallen back over her pubic mound.
I stood up and picked up my basket and felt uncomfortable. When I looked back at Janna, though, she just smiled at me. “Thanks, again,” she said.
Even that, though, didn’t make me think anything much other than that Janna was a little flashy. She was from New York City and maybe was more open than we were in the Midwest.
But then things got a little weird. Our classes didn’t begin until the next week, so we had plenty of time to hang out. One night, I was sitting in the lounge just watching TV and trying to decide if I should go to bed. I was sitting in a big, overstuffed armchair. It was about 10 p.m. and not many people were around. Janna came walking in wearing just a t-shirt, one that was too small for her, and some pretty-skimpy underwear. At first I thought, at least she’s got some on.
Then I said, “Janna, what are you doing? You should get dressed!”
Janna squeezed in beside me and said, “There you are, Heidi! I was looking for you. I’m bored.”
We were tucked into the chair, me wearing my running shorts and a tank top and Janna in her getup, and our legs ran alongside each other, touching the entire way down. Janna’s leg felt really warm, and smooth. I worried for a second that my own leg was rougher-skinned. She seemed like a Playboy bunny, she was so perfect even just walking around in her pajamas, such as they were.
“Hey,” I said, but she leaned back and stretched.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she said.
I didn’t, really, but I didn’t feel right, either. None of the other girls were sitting like this, for one thing, and for another, when Janna had moved, she had pressed her left boob right up against my arm. I could feel the nipple poking me. She watched TV sitting there like that, not paying any attention to me, and played with her hair, which was straight and long and kind of reddish-blonde. I tried to relax, but I couldn’t. Every time she breathed I felt her nipple brush my arm a little more, and each time it got a little harder. I tried not to think about it, but it kept on doing that, just rubbing my arm a little each time, as Janna sat there quietly. And the more I tried to ignore it, the more I felt my own body responding to it!
In the dark there, I suddenly felt my own breasts get tingly, like they wanted to be touched. The way I liked to touch them, the way a few guys in high school had touched them when I’d showed them how.
But I couldn’t.
I lifted up my arm and tried to lean against it, to give a little space between me and Janna, but that caused us to shift again and she leaned further into me.
“Am I smushing you?” she asked. She looked up at me as I looked over at her. She was a little shorter than me, even though she was bigger in everything else, all curves and boobs and well-rounded ass and athletic legs. I was tall and slim and a runner; I envied her shape.
When I looked at her to say no, I caught my breath because for just a second, it looked like she was going to try to kiss me. I’d seen that look before, on the guys who had asked me out from time to time, the way they open their eyes a little wider and their mouth just a little before they lean in to kiss you. I saw Janna’s tongue, too, something I’d never noticed before but it darted out now and licked her lips. Even her tongue had curves.
“Um, no,” I said. I looked back at the TV. “You’re fine.”
After a while, Janna had gotten up and said she was tired and was going to go to bed. I stayed a while longer, even though I was exhausted, because I wanted to give her a chance to go to sleep. What if I went back and she tried to kiss me or something? I thought.
The image, going back to our room to find Janna there waiting to kiss me, made me both a little nervous and a little excited. I saw my nipples get more erect as I thought about it, and I realized that in my mind--the image I had of Janna waiting for me--was topless.
"Tight" by Mick Payton
I couldn’t focus on the movie after that. I didn’t know what to make of Janna and didn’t know if I was reading too much into it. Could she be into girls? I wondered. I was in the only all-girls dorm on campus. I hadn’t chosen this one. I’d just ended up here. I wondered if Janna had asked to be in this house. I hadn’t known any girls who were lesbians in high school, not confirmed ones, although there had been rumors my junior year that two senior girls had been caught having sex in the showers after track practice. I’d known them; they were on the team with me. After that rumor started, I couldn’t look at either of them without picturing them in the shower, hugging each other and kissing, naked and wet and covered with soap. Sometimes, I’d picture that and wonder what it felt like, whether it was different to have sex with a girl, with no cock involved and breasts to play with and someone who knows how to touch a pussy and where to rub, but I’d never thought much beyond that.
Now I wondered if Janna knew that, and then I realized I was breathing a little quickly and felt my own pussy getting kind of hot.
When I did go to bed, I crept into the room quietly and Janna was asleep. I pulled the covers up while I lay in bed, and wondered why I felt a little disappointed.
The next morning, I got up early to go running and had come back and taken a shower. I’d been standing in the shower, letting the water run over myself, down my head and hair and neck and shoulders, between my own little A-cups and over my flat stomach, in between my legs, warm and soothing, when suddenly the curtain had opened up. It was Janna.
“I’m sorry!” she’d said, and pulled the curtain back closed, but I’d thought she’d looked a little too long, and I was embarrassed. I heard the shower next to me start up and I had turned my back to the curtain, feeling my cheeks get red at the thought of her seeing me naked, even though that was dumb; we’d been sharing a room for a couple of days and she’d probably seen me changing, but this was different. I was naked and wet and had been caught off-guard.
From the stall next, I heard Janna say, “God, I’m sorry, Heidi! All the curtains were closed and I couldn’t tell which one was being used.”
"It’s okay,” I said. My voice came out a little trembly and I wondered what I looked like to her. I looked down at my body again, as the water ran down it and felt like it wouldn’t match up well to Janna’s. She had those giant breasts. I’d seen them when she had only her bra on--a lacy, black bra that she’d worn the day before, one that showed almost as much skin as just going naked, but the skin was all subtly-colored by the lace. They were large enough that it would take both my hands to cover them, I thought, as I finished rinsing my hair. One of Janna’s hands could probably cover both of my breasts at once.
Then I stopped and wondered why I was picturing Janna putting her hands on my breasts. Was it because she’d opened the shower? Because of all the hugging? If she did like girls, maybe she liked me. I heard her showering in the next stall and tried to get the image out of my mind, tried to forget about how her hands could cup each of my breasts, one in each, and leave her thumbs free to rub the nipples, up and down and around, pressing them in. I had to change the shower to ice cold just to stop that thought, and then I turned it off and decided to dry off and get back before Janna was done.
I got out of the shower and was reaching for my towel on its hook as I stepped out and I heard Janna’s shower shut off, too. She opened up her own shower curtain and stepped out, reaching up to grab her towel as she looked over at me.
“They should have, like, an occupied sign above these,” she said.
I noticed that she’d looked at me before I could get my towel around me, and just nodded. I decided to spend the rest of the day on my own. While Janna was on a phone call, I mouthed the words “running some errands” at her and ducked out, pretending not to notice her telling me to wait a little. I stayed away that whole day and then spent the evening sitting and reading a book over at the cafeteria. When I came back to our room, Janna wasn’t there. I laid in bed and wondered if I’d hurt her feelings by being gone all day. I didn’t mean any harm by it. I just didn’t want her to get ideas. I fell asleep wondering how to tell Janna that whatever she was thinking, I wanted to just be friends.
Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up. I’d heard something and I laid there silently, my eyes open. Our room was almost completely dark, lit only by a couple of little electronic clocks and my cell phone glowing on its charge stand. I wondered if someone in the hall had been loud. I didn’t hear anything at first, and then I did: I heard bed sheets rustling. It was very quiet, but it was there. Cloth on cloth, just rubbing, quietly. I didn’t have to wonder what it was. It was coming from Janna’s bed, which was on the other end of our narrow room, divided by back-to-back dressers in between.
The room smelled like sex, too, a smell I knew. I’d had sex twice already, once in my junior year and once in my senior year, and I knew the smell of sweat and love and cum that is created by sex. I’d masturbated, too, a lot, fingering myself and rubbing myself and once bunching up one of my pillows between my legs while I knelt on my bed, humping my own pillow over and over, naked, until I came. That was what I pictured Janna doing, now, and I wondered how she made herself come, whether she used just one finger, like I sometimes did, or whether she tried to put her whole hand in there. I wondered if she had a vibrator. I had one, one I’d snuck into my backpack when Mom had left my room while packing, and one I’d slipped into a stack of towels on my top shelf. I pictured it now, my vibrator, a short, purple, lipstick-shaped rod that was easy enough to sneak around. I didn’t use it a lot because it made a little noise, but I liked it whenever I could use it.
I wanted it, suddenly. I felt my cunt clench up in anticipation with the thought of Janna, over on the other side of the dresser, fingering herself.
The way she’d been acting, the way she’d been showing me her tits and pressing up against me, the way she’d sat next to me tonight, and the other day, when she’d brushed her hand against mine. I bet she is a lesbian, I thought to myself, as I heard her breath a little more heavily over in her bed, unseen. I bet she’s thinking about me. The thought made me dizzy.
I laid there in bed and imagined what Janna was doing. I pictured her the way I would fuck myself most of the time, laying on her side, blanket only half on her. Unlike me, the blanket would have curves and mounds. Her hips were wide, and smoothly curved, and I knew that she shaved her pussy, shaved it completely bald, because I’d seen her coming out of the shower. I only trimmed mine, nothing fancy, but hers was nothing but skin. On her side, I pictured her reaching a hand down between her legs, rubbing one finger on the outside of her pussy, tracing around it and up and down it but not wanting to enter, not yet.
That’s how I always did it. I always teased myself for a while, and I realized I was doing that now, my hand on the outside of my panties, not reaching in but rubbing, lightly, my pussy lips, feeling the wetness grow inside me. Was that what she would do? I wondered. Would she picture me in the shower, water running over my little nipples, and want to put her mouth on them? I put my right hand on my right tit and pinched the nipple a little, then licked my fingertips and rubbed it, trying to feel what lips on it felt like. Would she want to suck on my nipples? One of the guys I had dated wanted to do that, and it had nearly made me cum when he did it the first time. I’d never wanted to do it, but would Janna?
My hand flicked underneath my underwear. I couldn’t help it. I was already soaking wet and I pictured her doing the same, unable to resist. Was she laying in her bed, thinking of me over here, and wishing that she could put her hand between my legs, slip a finger into my pussy? I wondered what it would feel like. Would she be gentle, and delicate, a little soft, like I was when I fingered myself now? Just lightly flicking my finger over my clit and feeling my stomach clench and tighten, feel my nipples get erect and poke against my sheet.
I thought she would imagine the shower, though, because that was sexy, wasn’t it? Girls in the shower? Janna would probably imagine what would have happened if she’d opened my shower curtain and come in, just stood next to me, at first, her breasts touching mine, nipples almost rubbing and her pressing me back, a little into the stream of water because I would have pulled back a little, shocked. She would have had her cunt nearly touching mine, her hands at her side wanting to grab me and pull me to her as her breasts caught the splatter from mine.
I bet that’s what she wanted, I told myself, as I heard Janna gasp a little, across the room. What’s she doing? I wondered. I tried to picture what I’d do if I had her ass, her tits. I liked rubbing my own ass, sometimes, moving it up and down against my sheets as I slipped my hand further and further into my pussy, as it got wetter and wetter. Would she like that? I put two fingers inside me, wet and slippery, and spread them out. I scrunched up and down a little, too, fucking myself, as Janna gasped again. I wondered what she’d look like fucking doggy-style, with that ass.
Would she have told me to touch it? If we’d been standing in the shower, would she have at some point turned around, and told me to rub her ass, to hold the round cheeks and massage them and let the water run down the crack of her ass, while she leaned against the wall and moaned?
Could two girls fuck that way? I didn’t know. I had three fingers in my pussy, then, with my other hand grabbing my own small tit and massaging it. I felt my breath getting ragged and my thighs tensing.
I imagined her fisting herself, something I’d only heard of and had never been able to do. I imagined lesbians could do it, would be better at it, and I pictured Janna trying to do that, now, quietly, her hand in her own pussy, buried between her shaved lips and pumping in and out and in and out, while her toes pushed at the bedsheets and her ass pumped up and down and her tits jiggled. I pictured her doing that, her eyes closed and her tongue sticking out of her mouth just a bit, pantomiming what she was imagining doing to me in the shower that morning.
Would she imagine, then, turning back around and dropping to her knees, rubbing her face in between my legs, water pouring down on her head as she pushed her plump little tongue out of her soft lips and in between my thighs, licking them apart as she put her chin in there, making me spread my legs wider and wider, so that I dropped down to her level, and she could tongue my clit while she put her hand up into my pussy, one finger, then two, then three, and as I came, she’d take advantage of that and push her whole hand into me.
As I thought that, I did it right then and there, that night. I got so wet that I got my whole hand, four fingers and the thumb inside and I moaned and said, “Oh, fuck!” as I came so hard that my body quivered and I felt wetness underneath me, soaking my hand.
It was really quiet, then, and I heard Janna shift a little.
She said, “Are you okay, Heidi?”
I didn’t know what to say. I laid there in my bed, feeling my pussy relax and suck at my hand, which was still inside it completely. It felt tight and warm and snug, like it belonged there. Like my hand wanted to be inside a pussy. I wondered whether Janna’s would feel different.
“I’m okay,” I said. “It was nothing.” I wondered, then, if Janna would try to bump into me in the shower again the next morning. And what I’d do if she did.