Clare’s Story Her Adventures Ch. 01

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Lesbian

“You’re fucking ugly,” Michaela shouts and laughs as a screwed-up piece of paper bounces off the back of my head.

“Fugly Clare, kissed any girls lately?” Sophia shouts in support. The behaviour of two of my former friends galls me.

“Leave her alone, you’re so shallow. You were all friends.” Tracie says from the other side of the class.

“Fuck off Trace. Are you her girlfriend?” Sophia shouts back. We sit waiting for the late-running maths teacher to appear.

That’s one example of many I could give. I would be routinely tripped over in the corridors, and school was becoming a nightmare. Walking to the bus stop once after school, someone, I don’t know who threw eggs at me, splattering over my hair.

A week or so later in P. E. I was called a flat-chested lesbian by Miss Ford, for messing up a netball set piece. It’s what stuck with my classmates too. I was soon dropped from the netball team despite being a decent defender.

I cried to my parents, who couldn’t understand what had happened to their once happy and popular daughter.

It was all coming to a head as three weeks earlier I was forced to come out. I was popular, I had lots of friends, but one day I tried to kiss the wrong person. Charlotte was a lot more attractive than me, and a lot more popular than me. We mixed with the same friends and we often spoke together. The boys fawned over us and we were the nucleus of the ‘in crowd’.

We were getting on well, we’d sit with each other in our classes. I was sure I’d read the signs, I was adamant that she’d flirted and had touched me first when we were walking in the woods together during forest class.

The touch of her fingers was delicate. It was glancing, and the smile she gave as it happened was like no smile I’d seen before.

In that one instant, that one attempt for a kiss my life changed. We were 14 and that was four years ago.

I now go to Uni. I’m studying maths and physics. I want to work in the City and get rich. The only thing that holds me back is me, my hunger for sex, and my love of women.

I know I’m not attractive, but during the throes of sex, I feel wanted and loved. As I’m kissed and willingly abused I feel attractive.

I make sure that my skinny, flat-chested body is as well looked after as possible. I use make-up and practise a beauty routine regularly to make myself more desirable. I’ve started using the Uni gym too to build myself up a little, but I don’t want to be any kind of muscle woman, I just want to look beautiful.

I offer myself completely, although nervously, and I give my arse up without hesitancy. That way my tiny tits, and ugly pussy won’t be the main focus of their disapproving gaze.

I’m also very happy to hide my ugly mug between a nice pair of legs as I love giving girls oral eating both pussy and arse. I’m as dirty as they come, to make up for the unfortunate mess God made me. I prefer being fucked, I like being a submissive whore, but I’d do anything to feel wanted and sexy.

My bank balance is growing as I save for breast implants for big attractive tits, labiaplasty for the perfect pussy like the slits I see in porn, and other various augmentations to make myself more attractive like gorgeous kissable gel enlarged lips.

I have two procedures booked in the coming months, and I’ve spoken to the consultant twice now. They’ll do my breasts and they’ve arranged for someone to do my lips on the same day.

The consultant has advised against the breast size I have opted for, he says that I’ll look unnaturally large, but in my desperation, I want to look sexy. He’s told me I will be sore and bruised for a while, but that’s a small price to pay.

I dress in front of the mirror in my small student hall room. I wear a little black lace choker, a thin black bodice, and a short tight denim skirt with no knickers. My legs have a little definition, but I wear high heels to make them more defined. If there was one feature I’d say I was happy with, it would be my light blue eyes. They stand out against my dark eyebrows and my brunette hair. I use darker shades around my eyes to enhance their colour.

As I walk through a mist of CK Eternity, I’m ready to hit the bar and get laid, probably by the first girl to show an interest and most probably a friend. They’ll have to be drunk to sleep with me, and if I go to theirs I’ll leave in the early hours to avoid seeing their disappointment in the morning.

As soon as I get to the bar I join my seven friends who have arrived already. I feel popular, I’m the slut, I’m pretty sure they only like me because I let them fuck me.

In high spirits, we all sit in a booth laughing, joking and kissing each other. We’re the epitome of friends with benefits. Eight lesbians, all mostly young women enjoying life, experimenting, and having fun. We all often go to clubs istanbul travesti and pull together.

Of my friends, Clem is the one I fancy the most. They’re all nice, but Clem is cute and older than us. We are all eighteen to twenty-two, but she’s twenty-nine. She works and doesn’t go to Uni, she likes the girls who do though because usually we are more open and we don’t want relationships.

She knows how to treat me too, and it’s her treating me nicely that I enjoy. My friends tell me I’m sexy, gorgeous, and such a catch, but I know what they’re trying to do, and that’s to build my confidence.

As I sit next Clem I cosy up to her. I think she’s hot, her face is round, and her hair is blonde and clipped short to the same length all over. Her cheekbones are round and deep lines form from the inside of her cheekbones framing her nose and mouth stunningly to the edges of her top lip and angle perfectly. Her lips glisten with pink lipstick, I’ve bought some as I like it so much. She’s pretty but she can be quite serious. Clem can work people out quite quickly and listens before talking. When she talks people listen.

Her hand glides up my thigh. I look down at her fingers as they slide up the smooth skin of my leg and under the hem of my short skirt. I smile as Dawn’s hand has done the same thing on my left leg. I look at Dawn who smiles, and I deliberately glance at Clem’s hand. I laugh as her hand quickly removes itself and I sip my Jack Daniels and Coke.

I lean my head on Clem’s shoulder as our group of friends chat and slowly disperses as they get up to dance. It leaves Clem and me talking on our own.

If I had one issue with Clem, it would be that when she drinks she becomes matriarchal, she lectures me on how beautiful and pretty I am. She won’t leave it alone, and I’d roll my eyes if I wasn’t so polite. But it’s boring, every mirror I see tells me the truth, and the names I was called for those years ring in my ears.

Sometimes to quieter her, I’d kiss her. She enjoys it, but I enjoy it more. I like to play with her tits too. She’s not wearing a bra tonight. Her vest top sometimes slips and I get a great view of her sideboob. She wears a pink set of dungarees. Her look is butch, but she’s certainly soft.

Our friends occasionally join us but leave again not long afterwards whilst we sit and kiss. I find myself sitting on her lap and I let her discretely play with me.

As the night moves further into the early hours of the following day, Clem takes me back to her small house. Usually, a group of us head back. Girls are usually scattered around her house on sofas, and in her spare bedroom and more often than not there could be three or four of them in her bed.

I feel embarrassed as we leave the bar, more for Clem than me. People look at her and watch us as we leave. I grip her hand tight.

“You won the pull the pig competition!” I say jokingly, but inside I scream and want to cry.

When we get out she shakes her head and kisses me. “They’re looking at a beautiful couple of girls, and they are all jealous of me,” Clem says full of seriousness. “Any girl in there would be pleased to get you home.” She adds grinning.

“I see them looking at me, full of disdain for me. I see them whispering about me. I catch them looking at me and their eyes dart away when I do.” I explain.

“Oh, you’ve got it so wrong.” Clem sighs. “They’re intimidated by you. They probably don’t know what to say to you, and you’re so hot they’re pointing you out to their friends.” Clem talks but I don’t listen. She doesn’t have to say all this just to get into my knickers. She’s getting me home where I’ll do anything to feel her touch. In fact, I will do anything to feel the touch of any woman at all.

She kicks off her black skater trainers the moment we walk through her door. “Leave your heels on Clare.” She smiles at me, “I like you in heels.”

I walk over to her stereo and put some music on. “Drink? I’ve got some bubbles!” She shouts from her kitchen. Her lounge is full of art, from paintings on the wall to weird and wonderful-shaped objects on bookshelves and mantels.

“Don’t waste bubbles on me. Wine, or a beer, please. Whatever you’re having, thanks.” I shout back and I hear a cork pop.

She comes in with two mismatched tumblers half filled with a golden crisp bubbly drink. “Cheers!” Clem says and smiles as she hands me a glass. “It’s Prosecco.” She adds taking a sip.

“Oh, I want to show you something,” I say putting my glass down on her salvaged wood coffee table. I pull my iPhone out of my pocket, unlock it and go to my photos.

I scroll through some x-rated selfies of me and pictures sent by other girls. “Here, look at this and this,” I say handing Clem my phone and switching between two pictures.

“What are these?” She lifts istanbul travestileri the phone examining them. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at, is it computer generated?” She asks.

I take the phone and reset the pictures and hold it for her to see. “These are going to be my new lips, and these are going to be my new tits,” I say happily.

I’m disappointed when straight away Clem looks at me, her face shocked and full of disappointment.

“You are joking Clare?” She exclaims and holds my hand.

“No, I’m booked in late next month and I’ve paid my deposit. I wanted to know if you could pick me up?” I say.

“No, Clare!” She replies, obviously saddened. I look at her.

“What, why?” I ask.

“I mean I will, of course, but… I don’t understand what you’ve done?” She adds. She puts her glass on the table next to mine.

“Look.” She says and unclips her dungarees, she pulls her vest up and over her head and her dungarees slip to her waist before she drops them to the floor. She steps out of them and pulls her socks off and stands in front of me naked. Well, naked apart from string bangles on her wrists and her gold ankle chain that shimmers on her left ankle, the lesbian charm symbols dangling.

“Look at me. What shall I change?” She shouts.

“How about my face?” She points to it frustrated.

“No,” I say.

“Why?” she snaps.

“It’s pretty,” I reply.

“Is it? What about my stupid Homer Simpson definition around my mouth? My honking big nose?” She talks loudly pressing her point.

“You’re silly. Your nose is fine, and Homer Simpson… I don’t see it.” I reply amused.

“No, but I do. I don’t change. You and most other people tell me I’m pretty. I’m happy with that.” She says, her voice still raised.

She points to her tits. “And these, they sag, I’m sure this one is smaller than the other.” She shouts turning red.

“No, they don’t! I don’t see it. You’re sexy. I wish I was you.” I say, embarrassed.

“Honey, I would love to be you.” She talks softly and smiles.

“Don’t do it… Promise me.” She kisses my lips and I shrug. She shakes her head and picks up her drink.

“Come on let’s take these to bed.” She says turning the stereo off. She waits for me to go upstairs and she turns the light off and follows me.

I put my glass on the bedside table. It’s my side. It’s actually the side Clem has, her books and things are piled next to it, and guests and hookups sleep on the other side, but I used it the first time I stayed and it’s stuck since. Clem says I’m the only person she lets stay there.

I drop to my knees in front of Clem. I’m looking forward to licking her pussy, and my hand brushes her bush back for me to dive in. Clem’s hand drops and stops me. I look up at her as she smiles down at me.

“Tonight is about you Clare. On the bed.” She helps me up to my feet and I turn to kneel on the bed, I inch my skirt up baring my arse for her.

Clem sighs. “No, Clare. Let’s be normal for a change.”

I look at her and fear strikes the heart of me. She walks over to me and unbuttons my skirt. She tugs it down my legs. She smiles at me, reaching forward to unclasp my bodice. As she peels this off me, my natural response is to cover myself with my arms.

“You are beautiful.” She whispers. Her eyes drink me in. “Come on, on the bed”.

I go to take my heels off, but she shakes her head, with a glint in her eye she wags her finger. I’m so ashamed and embarrassed by myself that I want to cry and run home, but she takes me in her arms and holds me.

Her lips. Press gently against mine. “Beautiful.” She says.

She sucks and kisses my neck. “Sexy.” She adds.

Her tongue flicks across my nipples, she pays me compliments as she kisses and strokes her way down my body. I hear her, but don’t believe her, but I feel contented and happy.

She gets up and goes to a wooden box at the end of her bed. It should be full of blankets, but it contains bondage gear and sex toys.

Clem walks around the bed wearing a leather harness and a smooth, long cock and holding a tube of lube. I nervously squeeze my small tits in my hands, more to cover them than for pleasure.

My legs are tightly crossed hiding my vagina. Of all the pussy I’ve seen, fingered and eaten, and I have seen more than an experienced gynaecologist, I believe that I have to have the ugliest one. I’m saving for that to be fixed next and plan to have that done next summer.

Clem runs her hand down my stomach and she eases my legs open. Her fingers spread my lips, and I flinch at her light and delicate touches. She doesn’t say anything unless it’s a compliment.

She talks positively about every aspect of my body and treats me with kindness and respect. I’m willing for her to use me, I’m keen to be dirty, but I want travesti istanbul to please her.

Her fingers and thumb press and squeeze my pussy and clit. I pant and lose my breath with her touches. She massages me, strokes and occasionally slaps me. Mixing up the thrills, assorting the pleasure and adding little touches of pain.

I writhe for her, moaning and yelping. She makes me wet and she has me gagging and pleading to be fucked.

Clem kneels between my legs and licks me, parting my folds and feeling for my hole. She spreads my legs and I hold my left knee back and look down my body to watch.

I fill with uncontrolled excitement as the shaft begins travelling into me. I gasp as she reaches maximum depth and her tongue enters my mouth.

Her left-hand strokes my cheek. We have eye contact, smiles flicker across our faces as her hand moves to stroke my hair. I turn my head to feel her touch, her cock slowly moves in and out of me.

The feeling is anything but violent. There’s a regular pleasurable sensation of movement inside me. It’s slow and caring.

We kiss. Our bodies press together, and I run my hands down her back, over her bum and to the tops of her legs. I’m mesmerised by her smooth silky feel, my hands draw together across her back and I hold her close to me.

Her hips move in a tireless motion building up my increasing need to climax. The buzz in my head and the pooling sensation in the pit of my tummy start to spring loose.

I pant in anticipation and dig my nails into her back scratching her skin with fervour, as I try to prolong and hold the high. My scream into her shoulder tells her I’ve come and reached my happy ending.

We kiss and smile.

“Do you want my arse now?” I giggle and try to turn over for her. I do like being anally ravaged, and that’s why I’m so keen to offer it.

I manage to lie on my front and her hands open my bum. Her hands toy with me and I feel the smooth coating of her saliva from her tongue on my arsehole. She licks and pokes at me as her face is planted between my buttocks.

Clem then slathers the cold oily lube on my anus. Her fingers move easily into me as she straddles and mounts me. Her pretend penis is slowly pressed into my arse and I rise to meet it. For an eighteen-year-old, my ring is well practised and so the natural resistance a normal sphincter would have has been lost.

I enjoy the thrill as it travels into me, with it easily passing other impediments with a bashful forcefulness. I grin and grimace. It’s the objects banging into me, the unnatural filling of me, and the sensation of it as it passes through my arsehole, it is exquisite. I do think I prefer this to vaginal intercourse.

The act of sodomy is so wrong, it’s dirty and frowned upon in normal circles. But I do enjoy being buggered.

Clem lies over me, her breasts squash into my back, and her lips suck against my neck. I have no issues with girls leaving their marks, I love my slutty reputation.

My right-hand presses my engorged clit and moves in circles over it. My left hand is up by my shoulder now holding Clem’s hand.

I take comfort from her and enjoy her physical touches and our emotional connection. I feel loved and attractive again.

I can’t gauge how far her tool motions in or out of me, it’s the slow push in that scrambles my mind, and makes me lose my senses.

She groans and breathes with me. Our skin between her stomach and my back perspires, her waist slaps against my buttocks and my arse feels slippery as her rod slithers and slides.

Our grip tightens as she sucks harder on my neck. I feel a shudder come over me and I clench my jaw so as not to groan too loudly.

I lie still as she kisses my back. Clem gets up from the bed and takes her strapon off. I lie on the bed exhausted and watching her.

“I want to give you this.” She says lifting her left foot onto the bed and unclipping her anklet.

“Someone gave this to me a long time ago. I’m passing it to you.” She turns and removes my shoes and then takes my left foot, rubbing my ankle and kissing the sole of it. She smiles tenderly. “Even your feet are sexy.” She puts the anklet onto me and strokes my leg as she admires it. She fingers the little charms that hang from it. It rolls up my leg as I lift it and I move onto my back and admire it.

“Every time you feel down, lost or sad. Look at this and think of me. I support you, I’m fond of you and wish for your happiness. Even in the unlikely event we lose touch, think of me, and I’ll make you happy.” She says now lying next to me and holding me.

“Are you sure you want to part with it?” I ask her.

“For you, I know you’ll look after it. I’ll be disappointed if you lose it.”

I wear the anklet today, thinking of her brings tears to my eyes. She’s right she does make me happy, but I still know I’m ugly. I wish my friend was still here to call and talk to, but cancer took her two years ago and I miss her dearly.

She’d have loved my fiancee, Helen, too, but she’d be puzzled at us formalising our relationship, she lived life enjoying being a free spirit.

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