Teenage Lesbian: Part 1

Sam walks down the street, headphones on, mind miles away. A gang creeps up, yanks the buds from her ears, spits 'dyke' right in her face, and heaves her into a stinking dumpster. They high-five and laugh as they stroll off. Sam lies in the garbage, face red, eyes wet. Later she's parked at the kitchen table with a bag of frozen peas mashed to her cheek. Her dad keeps circling, asking how she got banged up. She won't talk. He reminds her she's eighteen now—time to grow up, start telling the truth. He pulls the peas away and there's the black eye. Sam spins away. Two weeks on and the bruise is almost gone. In class she doodles instead of listening until a note lands on her desk. Nicole wants to team up on the project. Sam glances back, shrugs, says sure. Nicole grins. That afternoon they're in Nicole's room. Sam sits on the floor reading passages, Nicole sprawls on the bed with a notebook. It's the first time they've hung out and Sam feels every inch of the gap between them: Nicole's popular, pretty, and obviously straight, while Sam has never had a real girlfriend. Nicole keeps derailing the homework with chatter about parties and birthdays, and every time she leans close Sam's pulse skips. Nicole finally yawns, asks if Sam wants to nap together. Sam's stomach flips, but she plays it cool. They slide under the covers, shoulder to shoulder, hearts thumping. Nicole's hand disappears between her own thighs. Sam watches, then sneaks her fingers under her waistband too. Soft moans, slick sounds. Nicole reaches over, guides Sam's hand onto her. They finger each other slow and quiet, breathing the same hot air, natural small tits brushing, brunettes tangled under the sheets.