The Slut by Misty Meadow
The Slut
by Misty Meadow
It's the end of the last period of the day, phys. ed. and the bell rings. All the girls rush into the changing room, except for my friend Quinn and I. We haven't quite perfected our series of back flips and now that the floor of the gym is clear, we give it a few more tries, running diagonally across the room, flipping as we go. Soon the girls start exiting the changing room, walking across the end of the gym to the exit. The teacher urges us to stop and hurry up to get changed.
“Come on, girls. You need to be out of here before the cleaners come.” We know the cleaners come early in the morning and there's no rush, but we're not going to argue with her, so we go into the changing room, which has two rows of benches above which are numbered hooks on a board at head height. On one wall, there's a floor to ceiling mirror so girls can check that they're properly dressed.
Quinn came from another girls' school at the beginning of the school year, a month ago and I instantly wanted to befriend her, mostly because she has a unique look. I've tried to think of ways to describe it and the only word I can come up with is “slutty”. I don't mean that in any derogatory way, it's just that she has full pouty lips and eyes that seem half closed, giving the impression that sex is on her mind. In our classroom, I persuaded the girl sitting next to her to swap desks with me so I could be near Quinn and then always got in the cafeteria queue next to her and soon we became inseparable friends.
“At my last school,” she told me one day, “my best friend used to call me 'Quim', until a teacher overheard her and made her apologise, not that it'd bothered me.” I laughed. 'Quim' is an old fashioned English word for vagina; I think it's in Lady Chatterley's Lover though I could be wrong.
Now the changing room is empty, except for us. Quinn peels off her leotard and sits on the bench, right in front of a mirror, lifts one heel up on to the bench and looks at herself. I sit beside her, gazing at her image. Her boobs are just beginning to bud.
“Do I look sexy?” she asks. I think for a second, looking as she flaunts her cunt.
“Lewd, I'd say.”
“Lascivious?”
“Shameless, perhaps,” I suggest.
“I know: 'slutty'. I look fucking slutty!” she decides, laughing. “Quim the slut! That's me from now on.”
“Right on,” I say, grinning, “You're right; you have a delicious slutty look. I like it.”
“So take your leotard off and let's see how sexy you look.” Quinn has often seen me changing before but not under circumstances like this, alone in a sexually charged atmosphere. I pull my leotard down, step out of it and sit beside her, my knees splayed wide.
“Oh yes, definitely sexy, but not slutty like me. Maybe when your tits grow you might look a bit . . . no, you'll never look like a slut, Misty. You're just sexy in an ordinary way, but that's not to say I don't find you attractive. I could look at your naked body all day, even though your chest is still flat. Your cunt is nice, though. I don't think I've ever seen a mound that big.” I feel a warm glow in my tummy. I've never shown myself off to another girl in this way before and the feel of her gaze on my body sets my pulse racing.
“Look!” she says, “Someone's left a pair of knickers.” Sure enough, half a dozen hooks down hangs a pair of white cotton knickers, just like the ones we wear. I take them and hold them up for inspection. They seem nice and clean, so I press them to my face and inhale. I can't detect any odour. Quinn laughs and takes them from me and sniffing them. “Just a faint aroma of cunt,” she says, handing them back to me. I press the crotch right against my nostrils and inhale and yes, there's a faint aroma of cunt there.
“Try them on,” Quinn suggests.
“No way. I'm not gonna wear some strange girl's knickers.”
“Would you wear mine?” I hesitate.
“That's different. We're friends.”
“I'd wear yours. Hey, let's swap and wear them all night, then tomorrow, we can swap back again and no one will know.” It seems kind of silly and exciting at the same time. I hang the strange knickers back where I found them.
“I wonder who's wandering round the school with no knickers on,” I say.
“Whoever it is will be on the school bus by now and the driver is probably looking in her rear view mirror, right up her skirt.” I laugh.
Quinn hands me her knickers and I pull them on, and she dons mine. I put my hand between my legs, pressing the white cotton into my cunt and Quinn, seeing this, does the same.
“By tomorrow, they'll have a nice cunt smell,” she says. It all seems so naughty and intimate. We finish dressing then stand side by side in front of the mirror, admiring ourselves. “Two twelve year old sluts,” she says, smiling. She lifts the front of her dress up high to display her (or mine, rather) knickers and I follow suit.
“Two dirty sluts,” I say, to let her know she can call me whatever she wants.
“My mum won't let me bring my phone to school,” she says, “otherwise, I'd take a picture of us.”
“A picture of you earlier, showing off your cunt like a slut would've been perfect,” I tell her. We turn to face each other, our dresses trapped by our upper arms and she reaches out and presses her fingers against my crotch and, naturally, I do the same. “Are we lesbians?” I ask.
“Yeah, slutty lesbos. Finally, I get to feel you up. I've wanted to do this from the first time I met you.”
“Me, too, Quim,” I say. My heart is pounding.
“I wanna get naked with you again, Misty, but we better get going, in case someone comes in.” We exit the changing room and leave through the school gates. We don't need the school bus, even though it would be nice to let the lady driver look up our skirts, because we both live within walking distance, at different ends of the High Street. I bid her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and stroll through the village, looking in shop windows, but my mind is on Quinn. It's thrilling to be wearing her knickers. Tomorrow we'll swap back again, but I won't see her naked until the phys. ed. lesson next week. But why should I have to wait that long? Then the obvious occurs to me: I can invite her for a sleep-over. Yes, that's it! We can spend a whole night being as slutty as we like, up in my bedroom.
When I get home, I ask Mum if it's okay to invite Quinn.
“Is she the girl with the pouty lips? I think I met her at parents' day.”
“She's the one.”
“To me, she appeared as if she's always into some kind of mischief with a kind of look about her that . . . I don't know how to describe it.”
“Slutty?”
“That's not a nice thing to say, Misty.”
“It's okay, I mean it in the nicest way. We talked about it and she doesn't mind being called a slut. She treats it as a joke. She's actually a really nice girl.”
“Then by all means, invite her if you don't mind sleeping in the same bed.” My bed is big enough for two and I don't mind the tiniest little bit.
“Thanks, Mum.” I wonder what she'd think if she knew I had Quinn's knickers on.
I look up “slut” on the internet. It's defined as “a woman or girl who is considered to have loose sexual morals or who is sexually promiscuous”. It doesn't say anything about pouty lips or hooded eyes, or flaunting one's cunt in front of a mirror with a school friend. I'm inclined to agree that Quinn is sexually promiscuous but I have no idea about morals, hers or mine. All I know is that when I look at her or even just think about her, I get excited, knowing that she has what I call a “dirty mind” - nothing to do with hygiene, just an obsession with sex, just like me so I suppose I'm a slut, too. I call her, her Mum answers and I ask if Quinn can sleep over. I hear a muffled conversation, then her mum tells me that tonight, Quinn's grandma is visiting and tomorrow night would be better.
“Quinn can go straight from school, but she has to do her homework.”
“I'll make sure she does.” We hang up. Oh, this is going to be awesome!
______________________
At bedtime, I undress and get between the sheets. I put out the light and slide my hand down inside the front of Quinn's knickers, thrusting my fingers into my cunt, thinking about how she looked sitting on the bench with her heel up, her thighs wide apart, inviting me gaze at her cunt, with that look on her face that is so unique, a look that speaks of sexual adventures as yet undreamed of. I picture myself touching her there, then kneeling obediently before her, gently kissing that delicious quim. My own cunt is dripping wet and I extract my fingers and suck on them, reveling in the “dirtiness” of what I'm doing and thinking, then I press my fingers on the crotch of her knickers, rubbing up and down, round and round, letting the cotton absorb the juice from my cunt. Then I pretend my hand is actually hers as she works to make me cum and my orgasm builds until I drown in a wave of pure lust, thrills running through my whole body.
Oh, Quim, I think, my darling Quim, I love you, yes, love you, my darling fucking slut!
______________________
It's still early in the Autumn term and we're still in our Summer uniforms, consisting of pale blue gingham dresses which button all the way down the front, with white collars and cuffs. Until last year, when the school year began in September, we changed to our Winter uniform, a dark pleated skirt, a white polo shirt, a navy pullover and a blazer, with white knee high socks, but the school has finally realised that global warming has actually happened and now we'll still wear our dresses until half term, at the beginning of November. I like the dress; if I'm feeling naughty and want a girl to look up it, I can leave the bottom button undone; today, I leave two.
I put a clean pair of knickers in my backpack with my books. Quinn and I meet just after assembly and head to the bathroom. It's empty, but we go into a stall in case someone comes in. We take our knickers off and exchange them, holding them to our faces and inhaling. The aroma of sex is sharp and deliciously slutty.
“These are still damp,” she says, clearly delighted, “and they smell awesome. I suppose you masturbated last night.”
“I did,” I readily confess, “thinking of you when you first showed me your cunt.”
“Me, too. I was remembering feeling you up.” Her hand pushes up my skirt and her fingers touch my bare cunt. I do the same to her, but time is short. She has brought clean knickers, too, so we put them on, stuffing our own “scented” ones into our backpacks. “I can't wait until tonight,” she says. “Are we sleeping in the same room?”
“In the same bed, naked, or in each other's knickers again, whatever we like.” We exit and make it to the classroom just in time. All day, I sneak sideways looks at her, my mind on what might happen tonight when we're alone in my room. At last, school lets out.
________________________
Mum is out shopping when we get to our house.
“Do you remember my mum?” I ask, “You met her at parents' day.”
“I do. She's about the hottest mum of the whole school.” I laugh, never having thought of Mum that way. We go straight up to my room, drop our backpacks and fly into each other's arms. Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. Hers feel like soft warm pillows, welcoming me, parting to let my tongue press between them and then her tongue is pushing into my own mouth, penetrating me, violating me in the sweetest way. She pushes her thigh between mine and I do the same; we're humping on each other. The instant we break apart, I start unbuttoning her dress from bottom to top, then spread it wide and gaze at her naked chest.
“Your boobs are beginning to grow,” I tell her, “and your nipples are bigger than mine.” She unbuttons my dress and I shrug it off my shoulders, letting her run her eyes up and down my body. “My chest is still flat,” I note, ruefully.
“I love your body, Misty, especially in just your knickers.” She lets her own dress fall to the floor. “You look almost as slutty as me.” I can't think of a nicer compliment. I fall to my knees to pull her knickers down, anxious to see her cunt again, and there it is, a bit more developed than mine with growing lips and a tiny clit at the top. She takes me by the elbows and lifts me up, then kneels to take my knickers off. I feel deliciously vulnerable, naked and just a bit slutty, available to the girl I'm falling in love with.
“Sit on the end of the bed, Quim,” I say, “and lean back with your legs spread.” She's happy to comply and now I can make my masturbatory fantasy of the other night come true. I kneel between her thighs and lean in, pressing my mouth to her warm, wet cunt, probing with my tongue, then licking her up and down.
“Oh, my God, Misty, this is awesome! I've never had my cunt licked before. Does it taste as good as your knickers smelled? Can I lick yours? Please! Please!” I'm reluctant to stop, but the thought of her slutty lips touching my cunt allows me to take her place sitting on the end of my bed and I spread my legs for her, as wide as I can. I feel almost as slutty as she looks. On her knees, she presses those amazing lips to the slit that bisects my mound and I'm in heaven! Her tongue goes to work, probing, licking, tasting me, exciting me so much that I wonder if she's done this before.
“Jesus, Quim, where did you learn to lick cunts like this?”
“The internet,” she says, lifting her head. “My mum's computer doesn't have parental controls on it and when she's out, I surf gay porn and watch how those lesbians lick each other. I even watch fisting videos, you know, when a girl puts her whole hand inside another.” I've never even heard of this and it sounds exciting, though perhaps painful.
“I'm not sure I'm ready for that; your mouth on me is pure bliss. Kiss me again and let me taste myself.” She sits beside me, we embrace and kiss again and I can detect the same flavour I enjoy when I suck my fingers after masturbating. I'm sure she can taste her own cunt on my lips, too. We break apart and gaze into each other's eyes.
“We're lesbians, then,” I conclude.
“Fucking slutty lesbos, yes,” she agrees. “And I don't think we should keep it a secret, do you?”
“I don't care who knows, in fact, the more the merrier. I'm proud to be your lover, Quim.” As we kiss again, I hear mum coming in through the front door.
She calls up to us. “I'm back. I've got pizza. Come and get it while it's still hot.” I go to the bedroom door, open it a crack and call down.
“We've got no clothes on.”
“I don't care,” she calls back up. “Come on down as you are.” I look at Quinn, my eyebrows raised and she shrugs, grins and nods her head. We go downstairs into the kitchen and when mum sees us, her jaw drops.
“Oh, my God, what beautiful angels you are! Hello, Quinn, we met at parents' day, remember?”
“I do, Mrs. Meadow.”
“Now, you girls sit and eat and if you drop pizza sauce on yourselves, it won't be a problem.”
“Because we can lick it off,” I say.
“Or off each other,” Quinn adds. Mum laughs.
“Mum,” I say, my voice serious, “we've something to tell you.” She looks right at me. “We've decided we're gay.” There's a short pause as Mum absorbs this revelation, then she smiles.
“Good for you. I think it's very brave of you to come straight out with it. I hope you'll both be very happy, and while we're in the mood to tell all, I don't know whether or not you've guessed it, Misty, but I prefer girls to guys, too. All those nights I spent with 'a friend' were in hotels with a variety of women I'd met in gay bars, so I thoroughly approve of your choice.” I think that it wasn't exactly a choice; I didn't choose to fall in love with Quinn, it just happened to me, but that's a discussion for another day.
Quinn contrives to drop pizza sauce on her chest and she looks down at it.
“I'll get it,” I say, leaning across and licking it off. I can't resist kissing her nipples.
“Oh, look at you two!” Mum declares. “It seems you can't keep your hands off each other. I think you'd better go back upstairs and finish what you've started. I won't disturb you and by the way, don't forget to do your homework.” We stuff the last of the pizza in our mouths and run back upstairs to my room, closing the door behind us.
“Oh, my God! ” Quinn says. “Your mum didn't bat an eyelid when you kissed my titties. My mum would've gone berserk.”
“I always had a suspicion that she's gay,” I say, “and now she's out of the closet and she and I can talk freely, as long as you . . . ?”
“Oh, you can talk about me. You can tell her anything you like.”
“Even about swapping knickers and kissing your cunt?”
“Yes, anything. In fact, I insist you tell her about everything we do, you and I, as long as you're cool with it.” I smile to myself. Wouldn't it be amazing if I could shock my mum with tales of sexual depravity and lust crazed antics? “Then I'm going to tell her that we sixtynined,” I say, lying on the bed with my feet up at the top. Quinn gets the idea and lies beside me, her head by my hip. We roll on our sides to face each other and lift our upper legs, giving each other access to our quims, and her amazing lips and tongue goes to work, teasing, tickling, probing, licking, sucking, and swallowing all the cunt juice she can get, while I do exactly the same to her. Naturally, under this kind of assault, neither of us can help ourselves from cumming, not that we'd want to, and when we recover, we sit side by side at the top of the bed, relaxing in the warm afterglow of our frenzied coupling. I turn and look into her eyes, then lean back and regard her whole face. I'm still amazed by her lips, flushed pink and even more swollen by her sexual arousal and once again, the word “slutty” comes into my mind. She really does look like a girl who was begging for it and then got it. I wonder if I look the same, but I doubt it. I know I'm pretty, but I don't have the look of a girl with “loose morals”.
“We should take pictures,” I say. “I wish I'd had my phone the other day in the changing room when you first flaunted your quim for me.”
“Take one of me now, then,” she says, spreading her legs wide. I climb off the bed, take my phone from off the dresser and aim at her, moving in close so that she fills the frame, and take the shot. I zoom in to her quim, that delicious cunt that still glistens with her juice and my saliva, and take another. She takes the camera from me and I turn my back on her, bending down to touch my toes, smiling at her between my parted legs, knowing that the camera can see both my holes. Then I sit on a chair and hook my legs over the arms. She kneels between my feet for a low angle shot. We sit back at the head of the bed with my phone propped up on my dresser, the timer set, and wait through the countdown as Quinn hooks one leg over mine. We asses at the results. She looks about as slutty as a girl can be and I'm not far behind her.
“A slut and a half,” I say.
“No, Misty, you fully qualify as a slut, too. We're both fucking sluts! We're gonna do lovely slutty things to each other, fisting for example.” It sounds thrilling.
“Showering together,” I offer.
“Soaping each other's quims,”
“And bum holes. I'd like your finger up my bum.”
“And golden showers? You know, peeing on each other.”
“Absolutely, and we could try drinking it. I've tasted my own and it's like beer.”
“And sex toys,” she adds. “I bet your Mum has a vibrator.”
“A double ended dildo would be awesome; we could fuck each other.”
“Oh, Misty, you fucking dirty slut! I love you!”
The end