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My Grrlstory


Lisa was a total bitch. My roommate from first semester had dropped out
because she was homesick, and Lisa and her old roomie had decided to part ways,
so we were thrown together to finish the year. When I moved into that room
(Don't ask me why I gave in, because I can't figure it out!), I understood why
that chick split.

I shouldn't say Lisa was a bitch all the time, because she wasn't. In fact,
she had a bright, bubbly personality that she could turn on at will, and I was
quite enamored of her when I first moved in. She had a smile that could charm
a snake, and big, pale-blue eyes that lit up when she did. The problem was,
when the novelty wore off our new arrangement after a few days, her temperament
would turn on a dime. She was all smiles one minute, then a moody rag the
next. The unpredictability was more maddening to me than if she were a
full-time bitch, because I never knew what to expect. Maybe I was too naive or
laid-back, but I had never met anyone like
her.

And what really pissed me off was that she didn't seem insane so much as
devious and conniving, testing me, pushing me, always probing, as if by some
plan. Going through my things--at first in secret, and then nonchalantly and
"innocently" in my presence; leaving her stuff on my side of our tiny room;
"borrowing" clothes she liked, pens, whatever; giving orders with her sweetness
act, pretending to be darling ("Do me a favor, hun?") instead of manipulative.
I could tell she was a spoiled princess at home, and the times I overheard her
talking to her parents confirmed my suspicions.

And it wasn't like she had anything on me, either. I pulled straight-As in
engineering, whereas she never studied for her joke classes for her joke
business major. Also, without getting too petty, I was easily prettier than
her and had a nicer body too, because she was kind of thin and flat, a typical
athlete's body, with short brown hair and high cheekbones, but nothing to write
home about. Like I said, she had a very pleasant smile that she flashed when
it served her purposes, but I was definitely seeing less and less of that. I
was thin too, but with a much better figure. My breasts got stares from guys
ever since junior high, and I knew Lisa could never fill a C cup! I also got
plenty of attention because I took good care of my blond hair, and I had a
cuter face too.

I am probably sounding pretty shallow about now, but those would be the things
I would fume about when she stormed out of the room after one of her tirades,
trying to fathom how she could get off thinking she was better than me and
acting like my superior. On what basis? I'd ask myself and grind my teeth.
Lisa pushed all my buttons. She would make me so angry that I would think
stupid thoughts I would be ashamed of, about jocks or Italians or whatever. It
was going to be a long semester.

Lisa definitely spent more time on sports than on studies. She was a sprinter
with the track team, had been on the swimming team, and also played
intramurals. I had never been a good athlete, but I admired her drive and
competitiveness, and even occasionally watched when I knew she had a game or
meet. Despite our weird-ass relationship, it was easy to root her on during
competitions, and I'd say that was our strongest bond, because she respected
that I too was competitive, but academically. When she came home after a long
day, she was her most amiable, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and
she would sometimes ask for a backrub and spill out her frustrations, and even
listen to mine, the only time she was a good listener. Because we never got
along better than those times, and because I was purposely avoiding any social
life until I was more comfortable and established in school (I felt sort of
alone and untethered, too), I always looked forward to when she returned home
in the evenings, when I'd take a study break and we'd eat fruit and rap for a
little while, until she fell asleep while I gave her a footrub. For a while,
those were only times without any headgames or sniping, and that was so nice.

I'd say foot massages were her favorites, and I certainly understood why from
the few I'd had, and because she was working out on her feet so much. After a
few weeks, she started requesting one every night, so I checked out a book on
reflexology that explained massage techniques and energy points along the feet
and toes, and I practiced on her nightly, without her knowing anything except
that I was giving her killer massages.

I must confess though, that my motives weren't entirely altruistic either,
because for as long as I can remember I've had a thing for feet. I know that's
weird, so I'd never told anyone about it. I mean, it wasn't anything I ever
acted on, because I'm no pervert or anything, I just like to look sometimes. I
have no idea where it came from, except that we weren't allowed to be barefoot
at home, either indoors or outdoors, and from as far back as I can recall I
would sneak peeks when an exposed foot, male or female, occasionally came into
view. And it wasn't like I obsessed about them either, I just always caught
myself looking when a pair went by.

That said, I thought that Lisa had attractive feet, smooth, feminine and
well-proportioned, with long toes. I'd noticed them the day I moved in, and
surreptitiously stared at them sometimes, over my book, while she kneeled on
her toes, blowdrying her hair before the doormirror. It was no great chore
then for me to give her foot massages, although the first dozen times I made
clear what a huge favor I was doing her.

Whatever our individual motivations, our peaceful minutes together each
evening served both our purposes, be they for relaxation or healing or
comradery or whatever, and they were only massages, no lascivious crimes
committed. The footrubs in particular became more frequent, and sometimes when
I read on my stomach, Lisa would sidle up beside me and actually begin studying
too, with her feet laying expectantly near my hands for a light rubbing. She
would occasionally rub my feet too, although she obviously much preferred being
on the receiving end.
I think after a while it might have become apparent that I looked forward to
the footrubs too, and I would sometimes start doing it without her "pretty
pleases." Lots of times, she would paint her nails one of her funky colors,
with only a towel wrapped around her, and then a few minutes later scoot beside
me without a word. Occasionally, her breathing sounded suspicious, and I would
glance at her face, which never betrayed that anything but a footrub was
transpiring, and so I'd relax and continue.

That said, I shouldn't give the impression that our nutso relationship fared
any better outside our regular evening times. She could still be Godzilla when
she chose to be, and a couple times I was close to moving out. Once she
stepped over the line and actually ruined one of my blouses with a cigarette
(illegal in the dorms, she had been warned), so I snapped and told the resident
advisor, Sandy. I cleared out after that, because I was way too wound up for a
confrontation and had a calculus test the next day (which is why I lost my
patience, in large part), but I heard that Sandy had a long talk with Lisa
while I was out studying. She wasn't around when I returned home late that
night.

After the test, I was feeling much more relieved, and when I got to the room,
even a little guilty, and I would have apologized somewhat to Lisa for going
ballistic on her, except she wasn't there.




When I awoke, it was dark and I had missed dinner. I smelled enamel vapors,
and there was Lisa in her long bathtowel, screwing the top on a bottle, her
toenails a bright yellow.

"Hi," she said, without looking up. "How was your test?"

"Good, I think. I don't know yet." I was going to continue, but she cut in.

"It was an accident, but I'm sorry for what I did," Lisa said. "My parents
are sending me a check, and I'm taking you shopping this weekend."

"Thanks. You don't. . . ."

"I know I'm hard to live with. I'm very sorry, I feel horrible." Lisa pulled
over her deskchair, and without a word propped her feet on the bed beside me.
She leaned forward and stroked my cheek unexpectedly a few times. "I'll try to
do better, honest."

"I know." I began rubbing the balls of her feet, as she leaned back. While I
concentrated on my task, her telltale breathing deepened.

Suddenly, Lisa called out, "Hey Sandy." I heard our door swing open, and
Sandy's head peeked in, her eyes wide when she saw my fingers on Lisa's feet.
She looked quizzically at me. I was shocked, but tried to continue
nonchalantly, lest Sandy got any ideas. Lisa said, "I want you to know that we
had that talk you suggested, and everything should be fine."

I nodded at Sandy, but didn't maintain eye contact.

"Good," Sandy responded hesitantly. "I thought you could . . . if you two
ever need to talk or whatever, I'm always here." I was relieved when she
backed out of my view.

Lisa continued, "How's classes going?"

"I'm slammed," Sandy said, still in the doorway, and still in eyeshot of my
hands on Lisa's feet. "Getting ready for midterms. You know."

There was an excruciating silence, which Lisa finally ended by saying, "All
right, good luck. Just wanted to say hello, and thanks for your help."

"Sure. You two take it easy." The door closed.

Lisa sighed, her eyes closed. "She's nice."




True to her word, Lisa got a friend's car Saturday and we went to the mall,
and she bought me some clothes that were a lot cooler than what I'd lost, a
shirt, jeans and even Doc's sandals (I couldn't believe that). Her friend had
invited us over to her apartment for dinner when we were finished, and we
looked forward to a meal that wasn't dorm food. It had been a really nice,
mellow day, and we were both ready to kick back.

Lisa and I knocked on the door about an hour late (typical Lisa), and Shai
answered the door, all smiles. She was very pretty, even striking, with fine
features and a dark complexion, like Indian or Arab or something, long black
hair and a wide, toothy smile. She was also quite tall, accentuated by the
bright-yellow mini she wore, which showcased her long legs.

The moment we stepped in, I could smell why she was smiling. Lisa's other
friend, Dana, was sitting on a couch with a burning joint in her hand. "Hey,
just fired up a pinner until you got here."

Lisa introduced us, and Dana uncrossed her legs and reached up to hand me the
joint. She was shorter than Shai, with reddish, bobbed hair and very fair
skin. "It's good stuff," she said without exhaling.

I hadn't smoked much since junior year of high school, so I only took a baby
toke, but it was smooth. Lisa kicked off her shoes, and I passed it to her,
while Shai went to set dinner, and Dana approached us with two wine glasses.

"Hope you like white," she smiled at me. "It's not too dry."

I had another pull, and already my head was clouding, the three of us standing
together, me listening to the two of them make smalltalk, while Shai clattered
away in the dining room. I was going to offer her my help, when she called us
over to eat. I took a quick hit and snuffed it out, then joined the others.

Approaching the table, I noticed something strange, probably because I was
already stoned. There they were, sitting at the round glass table, waiting for
me, and all of them had bare feet, Dana in her tight black stretchpants which
stopped above her ankles, with her legs extended and feet crossed; Shai with
her long legs and her miniskirt, her knees bent and feet beneath her chair on
splayed toes; and Lisa too with her feet beneath her chair, but crossed at the
ankles and pointed at the carpet.

You'd better straighten up, girl, I thought. They were all looking at me,
waiting.

Shai was an excellent cook, and she made two superb vegetarian casseroles. I
didn't eat or talk much, because my head was swimming, and I was trying to stay
cool. I kept finding myself looking through the table, as one pair of feet or
another flashed into view between the serving dishes and placemats. Then I'd
catch myself and snap out of it, and spear a forkful.

Shai lifted a foot onto her knee, and kneaded her sole with a thumb while her
long toes stretched and fanned.

"Don't you like it?" she asked.

"Huh? Yes, it's delicious," I started, "it's just, I think this weed is
wailing on me. I haven't had any in a while."

"It's fantastic, isn't it?" Lisa enthused.

Shai stood and reached for my plate and silverware. "That's all right," she
said, "there's more, if you want some later."

"Yeah, we need to sprawl for a while," Dana stood and said. "Why don't you
relax in the livingroom, and I'll get more wine." Lisa waited, over my
shoulder; I rose and followed her, and we plopped down on the long leather
couch.

Lisa lay with her head against the far armrest and her eyes closed, legs
dr*ped onto the floor. "Outstanding meal."

"Mm-hm," I agreed, and there was Dana, handing me my glass, placing Lisa's on
the table. Then she sat on the loveseat to my right and crossed her feet on
the table. Her soles had a pink, healthy flush, and her toes looked moist and
soft, painted red, making slow circles in the air. We smiled dumbly between
us.

"Cassie, I understand you give a great foot massage. Would you mind giving me
one?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "I'd really love it. Mine are so
tight." She smiled once more.

"Give her a massage," Lisa urged, behind closed lids.

I felt cornered, and glanced at my knees. "Sure, I guess."

"Oh, thank you," she responded cheerily, laying back and uncrossing her feet
in my direction.

"Ooh, can I have one, too?" Shai squealed from the dinette.

I swallowed some wine. "Sure." Dana still smiled at me. I cleared my head
and leaned over, and took a foot in each hand, gently squeezing in the
direction of the toes.

"Mm," she hummed, still with that goofy grin.

I had to kneel on the carpet to get the right leverage to knead my thumbs into
the soles. They were as soft and smooth as I'd guessed; her flesh felt good
and cool beneath my fingertips. Dana and Lisa were chattering away as if I
weren't there, except when I looked up, and Dana would stop and smile. I would
turn away quickly each time, to begin working on a different set of points.
Chemically altered as I was, I saw the colored diagrams of my book perfectly on
Dana's feet.

Lisa lit another joint, and held it to my mouth. My lips touched her fingers
as I drew, my fingers still working. Shai joined us, holding the joint and
sitting crosslegged and close, observing me touching her roommate's feet.

"How is it?"

"Mm," Dana moaned.

"Good, I can't wait for mine," then she blew a thin stream of the smoke above
Dana's feet, at me, and placed a small pillow on the table. She lay back, and
propped her feet on the pillow, next to Dana's, and stared at me with her arms
splayed over her head, the wash of her long hair arrayed on the carpet. White
flowered panties were clearly visible as her miniskirt retreated down her long,
amazonian legs.

I concentrated again on Dana's toes with the singlemindedness only a pothead
could muster. The pads were delicate, as was the skin under the toes.

An especially loud round of girlgiggling snapped me from my reverie, and I
drew my face back.

"My turn!" Shai pouted, and waved her feet back and forth.

Her feet were long and skinny, and finer than Dana's. She also had the exotic
coloring of a dark-skinned woman, so her soles were a bit lighter than the
flawless tan skin of her insteps. She had high arches and most spectacularly,
very long, fingerlike toes, with nails of lustrous pearl-silver. I went
straight to them.

"Thank you, hun," she cooed.

As the chatter resumed around me, I explored every surface of those sexy toes.
I think I neglected the rest of her feet after an obligatory first pass. I
don't know how long I was on her.

"Hey, they're not paying you for this!" It was Lisa. She was speaking to me.
"Take a break. Have a drink."

"Aw," Shai whined when I sat back on the couch. "That was amazing," she
sighed. "She's really good," Shai said to Lisa.

"Yeah, I told you she likes it," Lisa answered. Only then did she turn to me,
"Don't tire yourself out on them, when you still have another pair to go."
With that, she laid back down and kicked her feet in my lap.

I put my glass down, and turned. Lisa placed a foot on my thigh and lifted
the other leg in the air. There was her foot, so familiar, and pretty,
dangling before me. I scooted forward as if drawn, and reached for my prize,
affectionately touching her. So close.

Her other foot stirred from my lap, brushing my shoulder, my ear, playing
through my hair. I closed my eyes with the sensations, moving my head in
sympathy.

Then that foot was gone. I continued kneading the other.

My lips were being delicately traced. Her toe!

I opened my eyes, my breath short, excitement from the caress and the sight of
her legs sweeping me away. I opened my lips. . . .

Her foot drew back, suspended tantalizing inches away. My mouth trembled in
pleading.

"Take off your blouse." I wanted her feet so insatiably at that moment that I
did what she asked without hesitation, before I could think too much about it.
Her feet rested on the floor now, so in my bra I scurried to them.

She raised them obligingly, and I firmly grasped both ankles, and dove
clumsily in, lapping at her heels and soles with my tongue and my entire mouth.
My breath blasted against her skin, as I rubbed my face all over the bottom of
those lovely peds that had captivated me for months. I was out of control, and
didn't care how I looked or what noises I made, all I felt was mindless lust.

I teased myself for as long as I could, before at last I had to have her toes.
I licked the sweet babyskin beneath and between them, sucked one and more of
them into my mouth like tiny candies, my tongue dancing around each one
slavishly, lasciviously. I opened wider, wider, to try to swallow Lisa's feet.

I don't know how long I loved her that way, but I do remember at one point Liz
Phair on the radio, singing directly to me, my eyes closed as I rubbed one of
Lisa's wet feet all over my face, and pressed and jiggled another against one
of my breasts, and I felt it coming over me, from my crotch grinding within my
jeans, into my chest, where it grew, a vibrating that became a shuddering and
overwhelming wave that consumed my entire consciousness. I was completely
surprised at what gripped me, as I had experienced feelings that powerful, and
could only hold her foot against my cheek and gasp for breath, my back arching
into her other foot. It pulled me helplessly along, like a protracted seizure,
ebbing and flowing, and in surrender I licked the polished nail of her big toe
as I held her to me.

A while later, still exhaling and laughing in relief, I looked up at her. She
beamed from ear-to-ear, and was eating ice cream from a dish!

"Wow," she said playfully, holding a spoonful down to me. I snapped it
eagerly.

"Hey, hers is over here!" I turned to Dana and Shai together on the loveseat.
Dana's foot pointed to a dish of ice cream on the floor behind me. She bent
down, pouring peach syrup on her instep. The stream creeped over her white
skin, down her big toe, dripping onto the vanilla scoop below.

"Go eat your ice cream," Lisa said.

I flipped around to clean Dana's foot, tracing the sweet trail with the tip of
my tongue. She moaned in satisfaction, pressing it up against my face, as I
leaned down on all fours. They must've unhooked my bra when I was kissing on
Lisa, because it fell off my shoulders. I was going to stop and pick it up,
when Shai's foot appeared next to Dana's, her bronze skin coated in melted
white ice cream. It dripped from and between her toes, gathered in drops at
the bottom of each one. It looked so hot that I forgot about my bra and Dana,
and seized her ankle with both hands and began cleaning her foot. Looking up
at her, I noticed something else:
she had removed her panties, and there was her pussy beneath a tiny
button-patch of black hair. Surprisingly, it only made me hotter.

It was messy, and delicious. One of Dana's ice creamed feet joined Shai's, so
I had a sweet foot in each hand, burrowing my face against them. First one and
then another would leave and return with a new dollop of ice cream, caressing,
teasing, rubbing against my face, ears,chin, neck, through my hair, and all
over my chest and naked breasts, My eyes had long since been closed, as I
licked and sucked my way through the sticky goo, and after a few minutes I
struggled even to breath through my mouth, as four feet surrounded and overtook
me. Toes were tugging and nudging my nipples too, as the girls giggled
uncontrollably above me. Their prodding and poking became more insistent.

"Hey! Hey! Cool it!" Lisa snapped, and she pulled me, blinded, away by my
shoulders.

"What? We didn't hurt her. We didn't hurt you, did we?" Dana asked
defensively. Shai was still giggling.

Lisa had me on my feet and was leading me somewhere. Up the stairs.

"Where's the towels?" she called back.

"There's shelves in the bathroom," said Dana.

The light went on. Lisa cleaned my face with a washcloth, so that I could
open my eyes. I was a disaster! My face was caked with dried ice cream, and
wide streaks of it stretched over my chest and even below my breasts. One of
my ears was filled, and my hair stood straight and dried at ridiculous angles.
We both laughed.

"Why don't you take a shower, and I'll get a gown or something from them," she
said.

"Thank you."

"You OK?"

"Yes," I answered, and watched her close the door.

My clothes were a mess, both inside and out, I discovered.

Needless to say, it was a refreshing shower, not only to clean off but also to
shake out the cobwebs. I tried to recall everything that had occurred only
minutes earlier, and my disjointed recollections were confusing and unsettling
for the mixed feelings I carried. I certainly remembered then why I had
stopped smoking weed. Things had gotten way too out of hand. However, it was
also exciting, and I couldn't believe everything I had done. I turned the
shower colder.

It felt great toweling, brushing my hair, slipping the oversized teeshirt over
my fresh body. I shook my head at my wide-eyed reflection and sarcastic grin.
What did you do?

The room below was lit only by the dancing blue of the television. Lisa lay
in its glow on the couch, drawing from another joint. I shook my head at her
as I plunked down on the loveseat. She continued to hold it out to me, so I
took it anyway. Oh well.

I passed it back, then declined when Lisa offered me another hit, so she
snuffed it out. She propped a pillow beneath her head, then patted the couch
next to her. "Come here."

I lay down in front of her, and we spooned.

"You smell good," she said. Her fingers rested on the bottom of my ribcage.

"Thanks."

"I hope you had fun tonight," she said haltingly. "It was just a game, sort
of."

"Yes," I said, ambiguously, staring blankly at the TV.

"It looked like you enjoyed it more than anyone else."

I didn't answer.

"They're just silly bitches. They think you're cool." She paused a long
time. Her feet rubbed mine. I reciprocated. "So do I." She kissed me behind
the ear.

My breath caught. Is this what I had wanted? It was a few seconds before I
could whisper, "Thank you." I lay awake a long time after her sleeping breaths
began to wash over my neck.




The sickening yellow of the streetlamp was mixed with dull twilight when I
awoke. Lisa's shoulder poked into my back. God, I had cottonmouth.

I drank three glasses of water standing over the kitchen sink, brought a
fourth one back with me, and watched Lisa sleep while I drank it. Her legs lay
bare, and her nipple showed through a hole in the knitted afghan. I dipped my
finger in my drink, leaned over and lowered a drop onto her parted lips. She
was lovely and serene.

I had decided, or more accurately, caved in. I hiked the teeshirt above my
breasts, and lifted the cover to lay down beside her, kissing her cheek and
hugging her arm to my nakedness. My mouth grew more insistent. I drew up and
lowered my breast to her face. Her eyes cracked open, and she grinned, then
suckled me like a baby, and then a greedy baby, and then like I wanted her to,
like a lover. I whined for her and stroked her cheek.

Then she was on me, humping me through her panties. I spread my knees and
held myself to her in surrender, cooing nonsensically in her ear. I'm your
girl. I want whatever pleases you. So hot. For you. Just yours. Yes, I
loved doing that for you tonight.

I found myself staring up at her as she lifted her bottom and slipped her wet
panties down her legs. There was her beautiful, lithe body, with a scant strip
of pubic hair, as she lowered her toes to my hungry mouth. I vibrated them
with my unbridled moaning, her toes curling inside my mouth. I nearly
suffocated myself in my zealousness.

Her fingers gripped my hair, and she pulled me up. Her eyes were half-closed
in lust as she drew me between her legs and opened herself wide.

"Please, please . . ." I whimpered as my nostrils filled with her odor. Her
lips glistened with her excitement. "Please don't share me."

"No," she stammered. Lisa pressed herself to my face, my head firmly in her
hands. I couldn't tell what her answer meant, but I did not waver, trying to
make sure she had said what I wanted her to, trying to decide if I really heard
feint noises somewhere behind me, if they were people, watching.


End of Story