Free Erotica Story - FF - Erica

Sara has always admired Erica from Afar. That changes today.

I don’t know her name, but I know her shape, her grace, and the way she moves. I know the way her hair falls over her shoulders, moving like silk against her back. I know her smile, from the one time she caught me looking. It is sweet, friendly, and just open enough that I know she’d say “Hi” back if I said it first.

But I don’t.

Call it shyness. Call it general social anxiety. Call it a lack of true confidence. Whatever you might call it, it causes me to avert my eyes and keep to myself, unless I know you. Around my friends, I am rarely quiet. But it’s the first day of a new semester, and I don’t have classes with any of my friends. It’s going to be a quiet couple of days.

The young woman passes in front of my chair, heading out the door. I risk a glance above my book to watch her pass. She is unfairly beautiful. Rich, olive skin, perfectly arched brows over lovely, chocolate brown eyes, and hair a brown so rich and dark that it is almost black.

We are nothing alike. I have bright green eyes and short blonde hair, with highlights of pale lilac. Where she is curvy, with a swimmer’s body, I am tall and thin. Some men like women to be taller than them. Others don’t. I don’t know what women like. I’ve always been too afraid to ask.

I wonder what she would like, as I gather up my notebooks and tuck them into my lavender messenger bag. I’m torturing myself, and I know it. But I can’t help wondering, all the same.

Minutes later, I’ve nearly forgotten my short sighting of her as I count the numbers over the classroom doors. It’s my third semester of community college, and I still get lost, trying to find my classrooms for the first time. At least the teachers here aren’t as strict as those at my old high school.

Here, you can show up late or not at all. As long as our work is turned in on time and tests are passed, it doesn’t matter when we show up. I am often late, but I blame the ADHD for that one. At least I rarely miss a class.

I find the correct classroom, head inside, and take a seat, middle row, towards the back. Up front, the professor’s movements are too distracting. I’ve noticed that a lot of them like to pace while they lecture. But the back row gets you called on more frequently. So, middle-back it is.

I busy myself preparing for the lecture. I pull out my notebook, open it to an empty page, and grab a few colored pens from my messenger bag. Then, I grab my water bottle, take a sip, and nearly choke on it. She’s here and walking right toward me.

She catches me looking, gives me a soft, friendly smile, and takes the seat diagonally in front of mine.

I have no idea how I’m going to pay attention in this class. What is this? History? God, I’ve already forgotten. I am in serious trouble. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out how to access the note-taking assistance the school offers for people with ADHD. I doubt my note-taking will be up to my usual quality this semester. Not with her sitting so near to me.

She tosses her hair behind her shoulder, and I realize she’s close enough that I can smell her shampoo. It’s light, floral, and perfect, just as I’d expect it to be. I can’t help but notice her outfit, and suddenly, I’m not aware of anything else. The world has narrowed down to just me and her.

She’s wearing a short, red, pleated skirt with a white t-shirt and red suspenders. Red suspenders! I think my heart just got a little bit gayer. I can’t help but imagine my fingers wrapped around those suspenders, pulling her close to me. My eyes follow the suspenders down to the waistband of her skirt and then to tall, black boots that go nearly up to the most gorgeous thighs I’ve ever seen. Her legs are crossed, enhancing the beauty of her calves and thighs. I think I’ve forgotten to breathe.

I take a slow, deep breath and look back at my notebook. The professor is talking, and I can’t help but wonder when he started. I don’t remember him standing up from his desk. But here he is pacing back and forth in front of the class, calling on people in the front row with questions and reminding the back to pay attention. I definitely chose the right seat.

I look back at the beautiful girl in front of me, just in time to see her un-cross and then re-cross her legs. My mouth goes dry. My heart pounds in my ears. What is happening to me?

I like men. I do. I’ve always liked men. But I have never in my life had such a visceral reaction to a man as I am having at the sight of this woman right now. I haven’t written down a single thing in my notebook. Usually, by this point in the class, I’ve got half a page of notes, about the class, my professor, test dates, and more. But my notebook sits in front of me, the page completely blank.

I catch myself doodling a heart on the page and make an effort to hear what the professor is saying. A movement catches my eye. She is uncrossing and recrossing her legs again. My eyes follow the lines of her legs, all the way up to that short red skirt, which is riding higher by the second. God help me. There is no way I’m ever going to be able to pay attention to this class.

The professor is still talking, but now he’s walking up and down the aisles, handing out syllabus papers. I love it when teachers still hand out paper syllabi. It keeps me from having to print it later. I grab a highlighter out of my stack of pens and quickly highlight the test dates. I’ll add them to my calendar later. For now, I just have to get through the class.

She uncrosses and recrosses her legs again. I swallow and catch my breath. She tugs gently at the hem of her skirt, pulling it down just a bit. My eyes follow her hand, and I watch near-breathlessly as her fingers brush against her thighs. Fuck, she is hot.

And suddenly, everyone is packing up their things and standing to leave. Has it been 45 minutes already? It doesn’t feel like it. Then again, I’ve been distracted by this woman’s legs the entire time. I gather my things and follow the line of students out of the classroom. As I walk through the threshold of the door and turn the corner, I run face-to-face into...her.

I feel heat creep into my face. She must have seen me watching her and is waiting to tell me not to stare at her in class. I’m already wondering how difficult it would be to switch classes, when she catches my eye and smiles brightly.

“Hey!” She says, and her voice is as beautiful as the rest of her.

I’ve forgotten how to speak.

“Hey,” I say, honestly proud of myself for being able to say that much.

She reaches out and touches my arm with her fingertips. I forget how to breathe. My heart is racing. I feel goosebumps raise on my arm. How does such a small touch do so much to me?

“I know you, don’t I?” She asks.

I sure hope she doesn’t recognize me from all of the wistful glances I’ve tossed her way over the past year. That would be humiliating.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“I do!” She says and touches my arm again. My breath catches in my chest. “You used to date Blake Conroy! Right?”

“I did!” So I guess she didn’t catch me staring?

I watch as she raises her hand to her pretty mouth and grins at me. I notice her matte red lipstick is somehow impeccable. If I’d worn red lipstick, it would have been half worn off by now.

“I’m his friend, Erica Morgan. We met once, at the mall.”

I’m shocked that she remembers me from meeting me just once, probably four years ago. I remember meeting a friend of Blake’s. I remember that she was hot. But that’s all I remember. How could I have forgotten someone like her?

“Oh wow,” I say. “I’m Sara Grace. I haven’t seen him in a long time. How have you been?”

“I’m good,” she says, touching my arm again with her fingertips. I get a delicious chill down my spine. What is it about this woman? It can’t just be that she’s gorgeous, though she is. Nor that her clothes always seem to fit her like they’re made for her. There’s just something about her that I can’t ignore. A grace, a magnetism. I don’t know. But it’s intoxicating.

“Hey, are you hungry?” She asks, surprising me.

Lunch? With her? I’m not sure I could eat. I can hardly breathe. But there is no way I am saying no to this woman about anything.

“Absolutely,” I say.

“Burgers?”

“Love them!”

“Great! I know a place!” She takes my hand. My hand! And suddenly we’re weaving through the crowded halls, hand in hand, and I feel like I’m in a dream.

“Mind if we take my car?” She asks.

“Sure,” I say, easily. I want to see what kind of car she drives, hear what kind of music she listens to. I want to know everything about her. And yeah, I’m actually kind of hungry.

Her car is a little yellow mustang. The music, an old Killers CD. The conversation, perfect. She tells me about how she wants to play classical guitar as well as the violin. I tell her about how I want to write horror stories and maybe even a rom-com someday. We talk about our families, growing up in small towns, and our shared love of a good cheeseburger.

Then we’re at this little diner, and I’m biting into the juiciest, most delicious burger I’ve ever tasted. I just might be in love. Not just with this burger, but with this fascinating, heartbreakingly sexy woman. I didn’t stand a chance.

We finish our burgers and sodas and climb back into her car. Once inside, Erica reaches for her purse and pulls out a tube of matte red lipstick and applies it to her lips.

“That color is gorgeous on you,” I say, glad I can finally speak easily around her.

“It would look just as pretty on you,” she says. I laugh, but she looks serious.

“I mean it,” she says. “Here.” She gestures as if to put the lipstick on my lips for me. I freeze, parting my lips to allow her to do so. The brush is cool and wet on my lips. I feel the lipstick drying as it is applied. This has to be one of the most sensual acts I’ve ever experienced.

She finishes applying the lipstick and turns the rear-view mirror so that I can see.

“See?” She says, “You’re gorgeous.”

She’s looking at my lips, and I feel a flush creep up from my throat to my cheeks.

“It’s kiss-proof too,” she says and kisses the back of her hand to demonstrate. It doesn’t leave a single mark.

“It really is,” I say.

She’s looking into my eyes, her eyes flickering to my lips. It’s almost as if she wants to kiss me. But that’s crazy, right? We just met. I look at her lips, her eyes, her lips again. And then she takes my chin in her hand and guides me closer to her. I am helpless to stop her, but I wouldn’t even if I could.

When her lips meet mine, I get goosebumps all over. Her kiss is soft and searching. I kiss her back, first softly, then more hungrily. Kissing men is never like this. She matches me softness for softness, every touch maddeningly perfect. Then her kisses deepen, becoming more sensuous and full of a need I can hardly understand.

Her tongue touches mine, and it feels as if the air is sucked from my lungs. There is a tightness around my chest. A need, like oxygen, but more intense. My hands are in her silky brown hair, and hers are wrapped around my waist. We are as close together as we can get with the center console between us.

I can feel my panties getting wet inside my blue jean shorts.

She pulls away, suddenly.

“Wait,” she says, and disappointment floods my body so intensely that I can taste it. She’s going to stop. I can’t believe it’s already over. It only just started.

I’m about to apologize. As if I were the one who kissed her and not the other way around. But she speaks before I can get the words out.

“I know somewhere we can go!” She says.

Relief fills my chest. I can breathe again.

“Okay,” I say, and I’m buckling my seat belt before I can even think about what this means. But as soon as the buckle clicks, my brain starts whirring with the possibilities of it all. Does she want to just continue kissing, or do something more?

I’ll be honest. I’ve never really been with a woman. I kissed a friend once, years ago. It almost became something more, but it didn’t. In the end, she wanted someone else, and I was fine with that. But I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like. Right now, I’m open to doing anything Erica wants. Anything.

Before long, we’re back in the school parking lot, circling the damn thing to find a space. It’s always so crowded. Then we find one, and Erica pulls in.

When we’re out of the car, Erica takes my hand again.

“This way,” she says, “no one’s in the music rooms this time of day. And there’s one that’s sure to work. You’ll see!”

We head to the music rooms. They’re bigger than the classrooms with windows in the doors. But then Erica pulls a key from her pocket and opens a door.

“How did you-?”

“Sshh,” She says. “It’s my little secret.”

It doesn’t matter how she got the key because the room is absolutely perfect. A few metal folding chairs sit spaced together in the front of the room, and in the back, a sofa. Erica locks the door behind us, then pulls me toward the sofa, grinning.

We’re kissing again before we hit the sofa, me on top, one leg around her waist. She kisses my lips, then slides her own along my jaw and down to my throat. There, she lays tiny kisses down to my collarbone, then smiles up at me with that same open, friendly smile. I smile back and tip my head back against the sofa to close my eyes for a second. This is about to get very real. I can feel it.

Then Erica’s hands are on my waist, gently pulling at the fabric of my only school spirit T-shirt. She looks up at me, all dark eyes beneath darker lashes.

“May I?” She asks.

Woman, you can do whatever you want.

I nod instead, and she pulls the T-shirt over my head, leaving me in my favorite lacy pink push-up bra. She traces one of the straps with her finger.

“Pink,” she says. “I like that.” She slowly pulls the straps down, over my shoulder. First one, then the other, never once breaking eye contact with me. God, she is sexy. I want to do something sexy right now, too. I want to show her that I can be seductive and hot. But it’s all I can do just to keep my breathing in check.

Now, she’s kissing my neck, finding just the right spots, applying just the right amount of friction. I’m already wet, but God, if this isn’t seriously working for me. She reaches around to grab the clasps of my bra, then glances at me, “This okay?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I moan and her lips are on my throat again while her hands work the straps of my bra. She upclasps it quickly and lets it fall open in the back. Then she slides it down, pulling the straps down over my arms until both breasts lay bare to the cool, air-conditioned room. My nipples harden, both from the chill of the room and the feel of Erica’s mouth on my skin, hot and wet.

Erica trails kisses back down my throat, pressing her chest against mine. I can feel her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Wait, is she-

“Are you not wearing a-” I start. Erica laughs and holds up a black satin bra in her left hand. This woman is smooth!

“Took it off while you were distracted,” Erica says with a grin.

Fuck it, where were we?

Oh yes, her lips are back on my neck, nibbling my ear, as my bare breasts rub against hers, with ony one thin layer of fabric between us. I can feel her nipples, hard against mine. Her breasts are soft, yet firm. Something warm and decadent uncoils in my lower belly, followed by a throbbing in my clit. I squirm a little in my jean shorts, hoping for just a little friction to ease the buildup.

I feel Erica’s hand sliding from my waist to my breast. She takes it in her hand, as though testing the weight of it. Then she squeezes it lightly, and gives the nipple a gentle pinch. Shivers run up and down my spine. I scoot my butt forward on the sofa, bringing my body closer to hers. I’m dying for her touch, but surprisingly, I’m just as desperate to touch her as I am to be touched.

I want to see her head tipped back in pleasure. I want to find out what sounds she makes when she comes. Then I want to hear them again and again. I place both hands on Erica’s waist, then run them up her sides, until I reach her breasts. I run my hands over each of them, paying careful attention to her nipples. I need to get rid of this shirt. I release her breasts and slide each of her red suspenders down off her shoulders, watching her face for any sign that she wants me to stop. Then, I reach for the hem of her T-shirt.

“May I,” I ask, following her lead.

Erica nods, and I slip the shirt over her head.

Her breasts are beautiful. I kiss each one in turn, then take one of her nipples in my mouth, giving it a gentle nibble, before I kiss it and release it. I repeat on the other side. I glance up to see that Erica has her eyes closed. She has fully given in to the moment. I’ve just made a woman close her eyes in pleasure, and I am immensely proud of myself.

I think a part of me wants to prove that I can do this. That I can bring a woman to the height of pleasure, making her come again and again until she can hardly move. And there is no woman on this earth who I would rather be doing this with.

I bring my attention back to her breasts. I pinch one nipple lightly with my fingers while swirling my tongue around the other. Then I turn my attention to her throat. I kiss my way slowly up her olive skin, savoring the taste of her. I’ve never tasted anything like it.

I reach her jaw, kissing just between her jaw and her ear, and she moans. It’s quiet, but it’s a definite moan. I kiss her there again, and she shudders in my arms. Feeling her gorgeous body shuddering in my arms is almost more than I can stand, but I don’t let it distract me. I swirl my tongue around the lobe of her ear, earning me another moan.

Perfect.

I set to work kissing, nibbling, and licking her ear. Then I kiss my way back to her lovely lips and kiss her hard and deep. I think I’m getting the hang of it. In fact, nothing has ever felt so natural or easy. I break off the kiss to trail my lips along her jawline to her other ear and repeat the process, until she’s truly moaning.

I guide Erica to lie back on the sofa, placing a pillow gently under her head. She follows my lead, leaning back and relaxing into the sofa.

“Wait!” She half-sits up and points at my shorts. “You might want to take those off.”

She’s absolutely right. I swing my leg over her, unbutton my shorts, and slide them off. Then I swing my leg back over until I’m straddling Erica in nothing but my panties.

If anyone walks into this room, we are so busted! I just hope very few people have a key to this room. But Erica doesn’t seem bothered at all, so I’m not worried...much.

What would they do, anyway? Suspend me?

Who cares? I’ve got the hottest woman I’ve ever seen between my legs. She’s still wearing her skirt and boots, but honestly, that’s pretty hot. And those adorable red suspenders are sexy in a way I don’t even try to understand. Hey, you like what you like.

I lower my hands to her thighs and trace the curve of them up to her waist, sliding my fingers under her skirt as I go. I don’t even need to ask for permission. Erica lifts her hips, allowing me to hook my fingers under the sides of her panties and pull them down slowly. I climb off her again, just long enough to drag the panties over her boots and drop them on the floor. As I do, I notice that they are wet. Maybe as wet as mine, but I don’t stop to find out. As I re-take my place, I put one knee between her legs and the other on the inside of the sofa cushion, straddling one of her legs. Then I kiss her.

There’s something different about this kiss. Before, she had taken the lead, and I was just following, half in shock that this was even happening. Now, I’ve developed a sort of quiet confidence. I claim her with my mouth, and she melts in my arms.

“Mine,” I say, and run a hand between her breasts, down to her belly, and to the apex of her thighs. I don’t touch her. Not yet. I have to hear her say it.

“Mmhmm,” she says.

“Say it,” I purr into her ear, tracing her pussy lightly, teasing her with my touch.

“Yours,” she breathes.

“Again,” I say. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I can’t stop. I press one finger between the lips of her pussy and feel how wet she is. My finger glides gently over her clit.

“Yours,” she moans.

I trace little circles around her clit, applying the same amount of pressure I’d use on myself and watching her to see how she responds. When she bucks her hips up involuntarily, I know I’ve got it. I use her wetness to lube up two fingers, then glide them between her pussy lips again, making her shudder beneath me.

“Good girl,” I breathe, lowering myself until I can kiss her again. I kiss her deeply, while still maintaining the same level of pressure on her clit. She makes a sound into my mouth. A moan? A whimper? It’s hard to tell. I pull away, just enough to speak.

“You okay,” I ask.

“Mmmm,” she moans. “Please.”

I grin.

“Please, what?” I ask, coyly. I kiss her throat, still teasing her with my fingers.

“Please, fuck me,” she says.

Exactly what I was waiting for. I take my two lubed up fingers and gently slide them into her, suddenly glad that I just trimmed my nails. I curve both fingers in a come hither motion and rub the upper wall of her pussy with varying pressure. I explore her with my fingers until I find the soft, spongey spot that let’s me know I’m in the right place. Then I slide my fingers in and out, picking up speed and making sure to hit her G-spot with every thrust of my fingers. With my other hand, I wet my finger and tease Erica’s clit a little more.

She moans with every thrust, whimpers when I change direction with my fingers, and occasionally bucks her hips beneath me. God, she’s beautiful. Her breathing is shallow, her hair is a mess, and her pussy is sopping wet. I can tell she’s on the verge of coming.

“Come on, baby,” I say softly. I continue to work her body. I move carefully and precisely, but with just enough pressure. She is grinding her pussy into my hands. “Come for me.”

And she does.

Her orgasm is quiet, but explosive. Her back arches, her eyes close, and her breathing comes in sighs and gasps. I keep working her pussy as she comes, until she lays back, panting and exhausted, eyes closed, with the sweat of exquisite exertion on her brow. She is, in this moment, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Erica takes a moment to breathe. Then she opens her eyes and looks at me with a grin.

“Okay,” she says. “Your turn!”