My name is Christie, and I recently became a lesbian's lover. I didn't plan it, it just happened. Well, Heather made it happen. It happened while I was in a girl's school for five short, heavenly months, but we've stayed in touch since then. In the weeks to come I will relate my stories as I have the time, and the nerve. My family brought it all about, although making love to another girl is so great I would have gotten around to it eventually.
 Being sent away to a girl's school didn't help, I was angry and confused at my parents, and rebellious. This frame of mind certainly added to my confusion, but simple loneliness became my downfall.
 It started on the very first day, when I moved into my room. I slammed open the door, with an armful of luggage, and there she was. She sat bolt upright in the bed wearing blue pants and a matching blue sweater. I would have knocked, but they told me I was in a single room. Her pants were open and down, the sweater rolled up to her breasts. I knew what she'd been doing. I do it myself occasionally. I was amazed to find that other girls do it too. Somehow I thought I invented that little finger trick. She saw my gaze and stiffened, then gave me a rueful smile.
 "Hi," she said brightly, then yawned and stretched. I couldn't help but notice that she was embarassed. As she pushed down her sweater I saw that her stomach was firm and slender, like mine, and her breasts were perfect grape fruit halves, while mine were smaller cones.
 A stranger might mistake us for sisters, except I have black hair and she has auburn. She glanced up shyly and saw my admiring gaze. With a giggle she jumped out of bed and made her way to the adjoining bathroom. She didn't bother closing the door. The sound of her peeing was loud in the room. I tried to ignore her and unpacked. It was 10:00 o'clock and I was tired. Luckily it was Friday night and I wouldn't be expected to attend any classes in the morning.
 "My name's Heather," the girl came strutting back and extended her hand. I took it suspiciously, not knowing if she'd washed it or not. The chill of her flesh and trace of moisture assured me that she had.
 "I'm Christie," I shook her hand firmly. She gave my hand a quick squeeze before sitting on my bed next to me.
 "Can I help you unpack?"
 "God no, I'm just getting out the stuff I need. I'll unpack after I've slept for 15 hours. Thanks for the offer though."
 "No problem. Is there anything you need?"
 "A new family would be nice."
 "Bad, huh?"
 "My father's a drunk, my mother's a whore. Neither has kissed me goodnight in six or seven years. Not a hug, not a touch. I miss it," I finished in a small voice.
 "You're one of those touchie-feelie type of people?" she smiled.
 "Yeah, I guess I am," I shrugged, suddenly shy. She sat gazing into my eyes until I started feeling creepy.
 "Me too," she slid closer. My eyes flew wide in surprise. She leaned close and put an arm around me. Before I knew what was happening, her lips were against mine. HOW HAD SHE KNOWN? Did it show? It was during the past few months that I had been attracted to girls, not seriously so, but... you know, curious. Now I was curious no longer. The touching and kissing was EXACTLY what I needed. I responded immediately by melting against her and kissing her urgently. I explored the moisture of her mouth, mashed her ample breasts against my own. It was so fucking wonderful.