Date: Wed, 6 Jun 2007 17:55:15 -0700
From: Adrienne <adrienne.c17@gmail.com>
Subject: Elizabeth

Elizabeth

by Adrienne

This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.  This
story also contains nudity, and descriptions of sexual behavior between two
underaged girls.  If you are uncomfortable reading such literature, or are
not permitted to do so by the laws of your state, then please cease reading
this material; the author will not be held responsible for your actions.

If you have any comments about this story, please send them to:

adrienne.c17@gmail.com

.  No flames, spam or sexual e-mails, please! The author is not interested
in forming a relationship via this site, and only wishes to receive
feedback about the writing.

* * *

She lay beside me in her big queen bed.  It was a sleepover, but her
parents had gone out on a date of their own.  We rested there, our hands
touching between us.

"Elizabeth, have you ever thought about ...  you know ...  your future?
What you want?" I asked, reaching over and lazily twining a finger through
the younger girl's shoulder-length hair.

Elizabeth sighed and burrowed deeper under the covers.  "Not really.  I
guess I'm sort of confused about what I want."

"Career-wise?" I quipped.

"That, and ...  other things."

"Guy-wise?"

"Uh ...  sort of."

My spirits lifted.  I turned to face Elizabeth more directly.  I'd known
her for over a year now; we'd been close for eight months.  This
conversation was long coming.

"You don't really like guys, do you?" I asked her.

She sounded startled when she replied, "No, that's not it."

My heart sank.  "Then what?"

"I just ...  I don't know what I want."

"I don't, either."

She pulled away for a moment, glumly facing away from me.  "Yes, you do.
You liked Sebastian ...  you'll find another guy."

"It's true I loved him more than anything.  I still do, as a best friend.
But ...  I don't know.  I'm not sure I want another guy.  I may not."

"You might want to be single forever?" Elizabeth suggested.

"No ...  no, I mean ...  look, Liz ...  I might like girls."

There was a pause.  "Really?" Elizabeth asked wistfully.

"Yeah.  Maybe."

Elizabeth sighed.  "I always thought I might, too.  But, you know, it's
just not ...  right."

I sat up a little, leaning on my elbow.  "Sweetie, no.  There's nothing not
right about it.  It's just how things are.  I can't change the fact that
I'm Questioning, and I don't want to."

Elizabeth nodded.  Her hair brushed my arm.  "I always ...  liked ...  some
girls," she said haltingly.

I smiled.  "I suspected that you did.  But I didn't want to say anything.
You know."

She nodded.  "I know. ...  But, well, I mean ..." She blew out some air.
"Never mind."

"What? Come on, Elizabeth ...  spill."

"I can't!" Her voice got that high, somewhat desperate edge to it.  "You'll
think I'm crazy!"

I put an arm around her and pulled her close in a friendly hug.
"Elizabeth, do I ever think you're crazy?"

"No." She swallowed.  "I always kind of ...  liked ...  well ...  you."

I sat still for a second, then leaned over and hugged her.  "But Elizabeth,
I've liked you, too.  For the longest time.  Since one of the first days
you sat next to me in Math."

"No!" Elizabeth was shocked.

"Yeah ...  I just wouldn't--couldn't--say.  I mean, could you? But that was
why I tried to find out about you.  Through the grapevine, you know.  I
liked you as a friend, too, of course, but it was more than that.  And so I
tried to seek you out and ..."

"I was so glad when you did that," Elizabeth cut in, her voice full of
emotion.  "But I thought you just did it to be nice.  To be a friend.  You
know?"

"I know." I smoothed her long, wispy hair.  "Look ...  Elizabeth ...  are
you sure you like me?"

She settled closer.  "Not really."

"Not really?"

"I think I'm sure about it.  But ...  well, I don't know.  I've been with a
couple guys before, and I really, really liked it, but ...  I just want to
see what it's like with you."

"Fine by me.  I feel the same way."

Timidly, Elizabeth's hands extended across the emptiness between us.  She
took my hands in hers, and traced the nails, the fingers, the palms, the
knuckles, the tops, the wrists, and then up my arms, making me shiver and
draw closer to her in the bed we shared.

"Let's see how this works," I whispered, and leaned my face down to hers,
wrapping my arms around her waist for a moment to relish the warmth of her.
I could feel the delicate framework of her ribs through her silky winter
nightgown.

Elizabeth slid her arms up around my neck, climbing into my lap.  I pulled
my arms from her waist, and reached up with one hand, tipping her face up
toward mine, tracing her cheek with one finger.  One hand on her cheek, one
hand against her back, I got us lined up properly, and kissed her gently,
not wanting to scare her.

We held that kiss for a long, heavy moment.  We both felt the intensity.
We were friends, but it was more than that.  We had loved each other--a
secret, forbidden love--and we felt that this connection meant a great
deal.

Her lips were warm against mine, but at the same time, pleasantly cool.
They weren't too dry or too moist.  A pleasant scent of warm young girl
floated up my nostrils as I held her; it drifted from between the locks of
her hair and up from the depths of her nightgown.

She was so small in my lap and arms; her shoulder blades felt like angel
wings under my searching fingers.

She suddenly leaned forward in my embrace, and kissed me harder, her lips
parting just slightly under mine, but still staying firm enough to maintain
a clean contact.  My lips moved, letting her in.  Our tongues briefly
touched, and then fused together, twining and dancing between us.  We both
moaned a little, feeling the connection, feeling how good it was.

Our hands moved together; mine slid up the back of her gown, tracing the
warm, creamy skin of her shoulders, back and the sides of her waist.  Her
hands framed my face, holding the kiss more firmly.  She threaded her
fingers into my hair and shifted her lips so that the kiss deepened,
fluctuating between hardness and tenderness.

We stopped kissing for a moment and drew back.  I somehow found her hand.

"You okay?" I asked her.  She was younger than I--sixteen years to my
seventeen--and, thus, I always felt a need to protect her.  I pulled her
head onto my shoulder, and she acquiesced, draping her arms carefully
around me.

"It feels better than I ...  God.  This can't be wrong ...  it just can't
be.  It feels too right." She pressed her lips to my cheek, and I turned my
face enough to echo her gesture.

"Should we ..." Her voice trailed off.

"What?"

"Can we ...  just ...  you know." She gulped.  "Explore."

"Whatever you want.  You're my princess, and whatever you say goes." I lay
on my back and drew her down beside me.  She converted the gesture, so that
her body lay partially atop mine, her right shoulder hovering just over my
left.

I pulled her down into a kiss.  She was on top, so my hands were free to
stroke her soft skin again.  Her neck, her shoulders, her waist ...

One of her hands came out of nowhere and guided mine below her waist, over
the defined curve of her buttocks.  Something flamed within me.  She was
perfect.  Perfect.

Her hands were on me now; leaving my face, traveling down my neck, my ears,
my shoulders.

I removed a hand from her and took hers in mine, guiding it over the steep
plain of one of my breasts.  She gasped but didn't pull away.  With one of
her hands, she took my still-free hand and moved it to her own breast.  It
was smaller than mine, but well-defined beneath the loose nightdress.

She breathed in sharply at the new contact.

"Liz, are you sure this is okay?" I asked.

"It's more than okay." Her fingers had left me; they were scrabbling at the
buttons of her top.

"Sweetie, are you ..."

"Yes." She had unbuttoned it, and pulled her arms free.  The garment sailed
across the bedclothes and came to rest at the foot of the bed.  She lay
there in only her underpants.  "I've wanted this ...  for so long.  I know
that now." Her hands were at her chest, I noticed, working at arousing
herself.  "Are you going to make me do this, or what?" She grabbed both my
hands in hers, and put them on her bare body.  The skin was so rich and
smooth.  She was like marble, but yet not; she was too warm and alive and
aroused to be marble.

Her hands were at my waist, pulling up the hem of my baggy nightshirt.
"Can I ..."

"Please." I glanced my fingers off the tips of her breasts in quick,
tantalizing strokes, just the way I liked it done to me.  She seemed to
catch fire in my arms, and pulled at my shirt more insistently.  I helped
her remove it, and then her hands were on me, swirling up my abdomen and
stomach and then reaching their destination, settling on my breasts.  She
had a different technique; rubbing in just the right spots with just the
right firmness and gentility.  It made me catch fire inside in a new way
I'd never known.

Her small breasts were reacting in my hands, the nipples getting harder.
Her body was tense atop mine, but pleasantly so.  She was leaning back on
an elbow, and I was lying flat.

"Sweetie, lay back.  Relax." I helped her lie back, and positioned myself
over her, reaching down for her as she reached up for me, and we continued
torturing each other.

"I need to finish this," she gasped.  "I can't ..." Her hands left me and
passed over mine as they worked tenderly over her luscious chest.  I felt
her fingers slip beneath the waistband of her underpants ...

"No, Elizabeth.  Let me ...  I'll do it for you ...  I mean ...  if you
want me to."

Her hand drew back and cupped mine.  "Will you?" Her voice was filled with
reverence.

I leaned in and kissed her.  Her lips were warm, imploring.  Her tongue
tasted the way only a sweetly aroused young girl's tongue could.

"If you're sure you're okay with it."

"Only if I can do yours at the same time."

"Of course."

We lay on our backs, our unclothed waists and the sides of our inside
breasts grazing one another seductively, tantalizingly.  My left hand
extended across her lower body, and her right hand was already positioned
beneath that, reaching for my abdomen in turn.  I wanted her to feel
capable of shoving my hand away if things got out of hand, if she didn't
like it, if she ...

"Vanessa." Her voice was gentle, full of need.

I complied.  Our hands worked at underpants, and slid them partly down
legs.  Fingers met parts of the other's bodies that only their owners had
touched for a decade and a half.

She was so warm, so alive, so ready that it alarmed me.  My skilled fingers
went to work, with the same tricks I used on myself.  It was so easy.

If she hadn't been servicing me at the same time, it would have been odd.
I wouldn't have known what she was feeling, what she wanted.  But my
feelings were mirrored by hers; our voices threaded together just as our
beings did, and we could feel from the other what we each wanted.  It just
came naturally.

The excitement came fast; I had loved her for so long.  We both had the
same method; stroking around and around in circles, then pulling back and
pressing flesh and finger alike home, so that it alerted loose skin and
bone and muscle and things of which we did not fully know the composition.
And all the while each of us had our own hand on one of our breasts, making
the situation so much more real.

And we talked to each other.  We breathed the other's name, and shifted so
that the bedsprings creaked, and leaned our faces together to kiss.  The
multi-tasking was simultaneously effortless and necessary.

"Vanessa ...  I'm going to ...  oh ...  oh God ..." And I felt it happening
under my hand, beside me in the small form of the girl I had loved for so
long.  And that triggered it in me.  Her fingers were racing around and
around, contorting within me, pumping in and out, and I arched up in
response, my eyelids coming together so hard that tears of poignant, almost
heart-stopping pleasure slid from my eyes.

We both teetered there in one another's hands, on the pinnacle of it, and
then, with a few more intense ministrations of our fingers, it began.  We
clung together as our eyes closed and our bodies did the equivalent of
uniting.  We had brought one another here to this plateau of bliss.
Electricity sang around us as we pressed with all our might, burying
ourselves against one another's still rhythmically manipulative fingers.

It was all so good, so real, so warm.  It pleased all the senses.

And then it was over.

We slid our occupied hands free.  Elizabeth reached up to her headboard for
a Kleenex box.  Taking my hand, she dried my fingers.  I took her hand and
dried hers.  She put the tissues beneath her pillow, and nestled under the
blankets.  She was shivering a little with the absence of her nightgown.  I
pulled her close against my body and felt so many things well up in me:
protectiveness, love, vulnerability.  More loss of innocence.  But I
regretted none of it.

"You okay, sweetie?" I leaned into kiss her, and she reciprocated, laying
her hand along the back of my head and pressing my face to hers.

We parted after a long, extensive kiss.

"Are you happy, little girl?" I held her tenderly, tracing her collar bones
with my thumbs as my fingertips gently touched her sweet-smelling throat.
"Is this what you wanted?"

She turned over enough to face me more directly, and snuggled in, the top
of her head just beneath my chin.  Her warm breath tickled my chest.  "I'm
sure now," she whispered.

"Sure of what?"

"That I love you.  That this was meant to be."

I shook my head.  "This is too good to be true.  It's ..."

"No." She pushed away from me and reached out to touch my cheek.  "No, it's
not.  This is real, Vanessa.  I swear it."

I held her.  "I love you so much.  But I'm so scared that this can't work
...  that something will go wrong ..."

She nodded, covering my lips with her finger.  "I know.  I love you, too.
And I'm just as freaked as you."

We giggled a bit, in spite of ourselves.

"It'll be okay, though," I promised her.

"We'll figure it out," she contributed.

We kissed deeply again.  Then she got up and got our clothes.  We helped
one another get into them, just for an excuse to have our hands on one
another for one final time.

When we settled down to sleep, Elizabeth was propped with her hair brushing
the underside of my chin, my hand extending around her waist to clasp her
hand in mine.  Her strong back and firm little butt were nestled
comfortably in my lap, and I held onto that, and to her.  I loved her so
much.  I loved what we had done, but I loved her a million times more.