ROADTRIP ROOMMATES

Claire and Amy met freshman year. They had mutual friends, but weren't really that close until Junior year. That year, neither had plans for spring break. Claire had finally broken it off with her high school boyfriend back home. Amy couldn't afford to join her friends in Cancun. Neither had seen Yellowstone and they figured it was only a two-day drive from their college, and they could buy some simple groceries to fix for meals, split gas, and share budget motel rooms. All in all, it'd be an affordable adventure for Amy; for Claire, it beat sitting around thinking about her ex.



During the long drive on the first day, the girls got to know each other. They found much in common and laughed easily. The first night, they pulled off the highway at roadside motel. They could save more money by getting a single room with queen bed, than a double room. Three years of living in dorms had prepared both girls for living in tight quarters. So they slept in the same bed, brushed teeth, and changed in front of the other without a second thought. In fact, after her shower, Claire came out in her towel, and opened her laptop. She spent the next hour logged onto facebook, to see if her ex had posted any spring break photos. "He's probably already found some bikini bimbo," Claire said, more to the room than to Amy as she unpacked.



After the long drive, Amy was sore, tired, and tense. She was ready to unwind. As she stepped into the small bathroom, still steamed from Claire's shower, she knew she'd masturbate. For years the running water from a bath spigot was a sure way to get her off. Instinctively, her body became wet in anticipation. Amy stripped and started the bath, letting the water warm to her touch. With her other hand, she was already playing with herself. The water was just about perfect and her knees were already getting a bit wobbly. But she realized she'd forgotten her hair tie, and she didn't want to sleep with wet hair.

Amy started to open the bathroom door, but stopped suddenly. In the motel room mirror, she could see the reflection of the bed, and on the bed Claire. She was still on her knees, staring at her laptop. But her towel had come loose from her waist. The mirror gave a perfect vantage of Claire's backside, her smooth, upturned buttock, and between them, her hand, and a finger, slowly sliding in and out.

Amy stood, frozen, silent, transfixed. Peeking through the bathroom door into the mirror, Amy could see the entire scene. To see Amy, Claire would have had to turn all the way around to look into the mirror, and even then, from the bed, it might have been too low an angle to see Amy, peeking from the crack of the door. With the water still running, Claire had assumed exactly what Amy had assumed--that each girl had at least 15 minutes of private time. Apparently, Claire was just as much in need of a good frigging as Amy.

While Amy loved the sensation of running water, for Claire, it was online porn. She'd learned this almost by accident. About a year ago, while visiting her boyfriend, she'd borrowed his computer to check her flight info. She was surprised when she found a list of porn urls in his browser history. Apparently he'd either forgotten to clear it, or never thought she'd look. Regardless, she'd seen it, and when she confronted him about it, he said: "Look, we're long distance and I still have needs...wouldn't you rather me looking at girls online than in person?" Mad and shocked and hurt and confused and mostly embarrassed as she was, she agreed. She had him show her the sites he frequented. To her surprise, the images of women aroused her. Looking at them, she could play herself in the scene: she could be both the woman giving pleasure and the one receiving. When she returned to college, she explored the sites in more detail.

At first, Claire liked the video clips uploaded by amateur couples. As she watched, she could imagine herself and her boyfriend. Again and again, she found herself fixating on the female and almost tuning the man out. Maybe because the long distance relationship was becoming more and more distant, more strained. She and her boyfriend were getting in more and more filghts, misunderstandings, and misread emails. Or maybe she just liked looking at girls her age, imagining herself in their place. She spent more and more time visiting sites like Sapphic Erotica that showed galleries of girls with other girls. As she surfed, she'd grow wet and aroused. Soon she'd be touching herself. And then she'd be no longer surfing but fully masturbating, and then shaking in wave after wave of orgasm.

Now Claire was on the motel bed. Amy had just stepped in the shower, and Claire knew she had some alone time. Claire had been checking facebook, that much was true, but as soon as Claire heard the water running, she flipped over to one of her regular sites. In a few seconds, she was enjoying the sight of two girls. Still on her knees, she reached back. She wetted her finger with her own juices and circled it around her clit. It swelled and hardened in response. She flicked it lightly, imagining a tongue. It wasn't her ex-boyfriend's tongue, no. It was one of the girls in the pictures. Or maybe a girl like Amy. She was pretty cute. She had dark brown hair, almost black. It was straight and fell to her shoulder blades. She had a nice body. A-cup breasts, like Claire, and a great ass. Before the shower, Amy had been standing at the mirror in a thong.

Amy had never actually been with another girl, but as she touched herself, she began to fantasize. On her knees on the bed, her hand moved up and down over, her finger slipped in, and pulled her wetness over her clit. She shuddered, imagining Amy's tongue grazing her clit, nibbling, and then sliding into her. It felt so good to imagine Amy's breath on her folds. She pushed her hips up, imagining Amy's tongue sliding up from her folds to her sensitive wrinkles. She so was sensitive there. Her boyfriend, he'd poke in that area until it hurt. It wasn't a place that could be forced. It was a place to be unlocked.

She let out a little gasp as she worked a finger into her back. She knew it was soon. With one finger in back and the other hand rubbing her clit, she worked herself closer and closer... the water was still running...she knew she could do it. Closer and closer, she could feel the waves begin to build. She could imagine Amy now laying below her, the two of them locked in a 69. With Claire's face pushed against the bedsheet and her hips in the air, she imagined her mouth locked on Amy's pussy, while she humped Amy's face. Her hips bounced up and down on her hand, pushing in her front and back, releasing intense spasm of orgasm after orgasm. She made a sound like a whimper as she tried to hold it in and not make a sound.

What she didn't know was that Amy had been fixed at the door the whole time. Amy had watched in the mirror as Claire brought herself to climax. Perhaps it was the fact that Amy was already pre-meditating a good solid masturbation session, perhaps the sound of running water triggered in her a pavlovian response. Perhaps because she'd already been touching herself, eager in anticipation. Maybe it was all of these things combined, plus the sight of Claire on the bed, her hips up and spread, her finger disappearing in her vagina. Amy had never watched another woman masturbate before. But she couldn't stop looking. Without even thinking, she found her hand matching the pace of Claire's hand. She was shocked to see Claire's finger slide out of her soaking vagina and circle her anus. Claire gasped when she pushed her finger into her back, and Amy let out a gasp, too. But she couldn't help it; Amy let her free hand slide behind her. With a curious finger, she began to caress the tight ring of sensitive flesh. "Oh!" thought Amy, "that is nice." It tickled, but in a good way. She felt the sensation connect to her clit.

Amy watched Claire in the mirror. She moved her hips as Claire bucked her hips up and down. Faster and faster, the two girls moved in unison. Amy watched as Claire drove both fingers deep. Claire began to shake, and Amy bite her lip to hold in a cry.
She was coming. And coming. Her knees buckled and she nearly fell. She caught herself and quietly closed the door again.

She sat on the toliet, regaining her breath and balance. She waited a minute or two to let Claire recompose herself. Then Amy turned off the bathwater. Running water had been her best private moments, but what she just experienced was completely different, and so much better, she thought. She wasn't tired anymore, but refreshed. She felt energized and flush. She cleaned up a little and slipped on some fresh underwear. She'd picked her lime green undies with a mismatched green and white camisole for bed. It wasn't her sexiest outfit; all cotton, she'd picked it just for sleeping. She looked at herself in the mirror, her small breasts framed by her tight top, her nipples still hard, poking through the fabric. She and Claire had similar bodies. The way Claire touched herself felt good as Amy copied. Maybe their bodies felt the same, responded the same? Where Claire's breasts the same firmness when squeezed? Was her trimmed pubic hair soft or coarse? Did she smell the same, taste the same?

These were the thoughts running through Amy's mind when she heard a soft knock at the bathroom door. Claire entered, dressed for bed in a camisole and red cotton underwear. Amy tried not to glance down at Claire's nipples, also hard and poking through the thin fabric. Amy had hugged plenty of her friends over the years, but somehow it'd always been about the hug, not the physical sensation. It was always so platonic. Now she wondered what it would be like to hug Claire, and feel their nipples, hard, and touching through their shirts.


Without realizing it, she had moved closer to Claire, as Claire, in turn was being pulled to Amy. It was like feeling a tug of gravity Without a word or without looking at each other, they came together. Amy lifted her hands around Claire as their mouths met. They began a long, slow kiss. Their hands moved over each others' backs, shoulders, through their hair. Amy's fingers slipped across Claire's shoulder, and the thin strap fell easily.

They didn't know what was next, but they knew where it was heading. They knew soon enough they'd both be on the bed, completely naked, their legs entwined. Kissing, lips and breasts and down each other's belly's for a first taste. They knew they'd feel each others' fingers penetrating, opening them in ways they'd never been opened. And, at age 21, they knew enough about life and love to know first times are what you make them, and first times always matter.