Annabelle & Bridget, Part Twelve

Annabelle patted the spot next to her on the sofa. Normally, that kind of gesture would be a flirty invitation. Of course, there was nothing normal about the dynamic between me and the Annabelle/Bridget duo; even when she wasn’t giving me a direct order, there was an underlying demand to the nonchalant ‘suggestion’ about what she expected to happen next.

Fingering a girl? It was such a daunting concept. Putting aside my sexual confusion, the only experience I had with something like that was touching myself. While I could maybe do what I liked on another girl, it wasn’t the same. Also, if I did pleasure Annabelle like that . . . I wanted to be good at it.

Oh, God. That was such a weird thought! I just- I was the kind of girl who excelled at her endeavors, especially when other people were involved. Mathematics was something I was both naturally gifted at, as well as a subject I had dedicated a lot of time to, which meant I was comfortable being challenged by professors and teaching higher level stuff to Annabelle. And, for a more intimate example, I considered myself a pretty good kisser. The difference was, making out translated across genders for the most part. However, this would be my first time going beyond first base with a girl and, since Annabelle was an attractive lesbian who no doubt had already had a number of sexual partners, I probably wasn’t going to impress her by comparison.

I also couldn’t deny that reciprocating was the fair thing to do. Except Annabelle had known what she was doing with her fingers, and that had just been between me and her. Stumbling through touching the redhead down there made me nervous enough. Doing so in front of Bridget? There was no way.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of time to think through the impending task. Bridget’s hands were still on my bare shoulders, and she continued to be positioned in a way that let her murmur in my ear. “Go on, Mere. It’s rude to keep a girl waiting.” With that, she gave me a light push, nudging me forward.

At the same time, Annabelle brushed her hair back and arched into a stretch. It had the intended effect, where my eyes were immediately drawn to her cleavage. I was also in the usual headspace, where I was slightly jealous of her curves while also appreciating the female form as she flaunted her bombshell of a body. But that didn’t make me a lesbian! I had slept with guys before, and enjoyed it. Still, nerve wracking as all of this was, it was impossible to ignore that the softness and warmth of girls was something that I liked as well.

Letting Bridget guide me, too flustered and hesitant to do anything but take step after step towards the sofa as my legs moved only because another girl was giving me the necessary momentum, I was soon close enough where Annabelle could reach out and take one of my hands. “Sit, Mere,” she quietly yet firmly said.

I did as I was told. Turning so I could sit down properly, though still not at all comfortable hanging out in a well lit social space when nearly naked, I cringed slightly as my thighs and backside settled onto the soft, cool leather. As usual, the temptation was to cover my breasts, but I had been told numerous times to keep my arms down. Speaking of ‘soft and warm,’ I had also been pulled down in a way where I landed right next to Annabelle. I had to make a conscious effort to not flinch away like I’d do if I accidentally sat too close to someone at a more normal gathering, especially as so much of my own bare skin ended up flush with hers. It was a perfectly normal instinct, but it would probably come across as insulting in the current setting.

“Good girl,” Annabelle said. She still had a grip on my hand, and used that to bring me towards her crotch. Despite how it was two versus one, none of this felt like I was being forced to do anything. The gentle insistence was, well, gentle. There was plenty of time for me to freak out and yank my arm away, yet I didn’t. Inch by inch, I allowed Annabelle to bring me to her abdomen, where she placed my palm to rest.

The good news was, I wasn’t touching her anywhere more personal. The bad news was, that was the point. I was going to have to take that last step myself, rather than having the excuse of it being Annabelle who brought me all the way there. On top of the sexual confusion, I was also in a strange sober/tipsy state. I could definitely feel the wine I had chugged warming me up, though an experience like this made it impossible to get lost in the light buzz like I would if I was relaxing at home.

Meanwhile, Bridget had taken a small step back and was standing there looking way more put together in her skirt/blouse combo than I was in just my thong or Annabelle was in her dark lingerie. “What would you like from me, babe?” she asked. I still wasn’t sure what their dynamic was. Dating? The affectionate nickname was said so casually that it could mean anything, though I found it difficult to believe that Bridget was dating a high schooler, even if Annabelle was eighteen and desirable for a number of reasons.

“Hmm, you could start by stripping,” Annabelle suggested, “I’m sure my lesbian pet would like that. After that . . . Have some wine and enjoy the show? This is your first time fucking a girl, right, Mere?”

I nodded. My throat suddenly felt a little dry, and I wasn’t sure there was any answer that wouldn’t be awkward.

“That’s what I thought,” she smirked, “Well, I don’t plan on faking it. We’re going to go until you get me off properly.”