The Exchange

I am NOT the author am simply sharing

a friendships takes a slow turn into something more.
We did our best not to giggle as we exited the girls’ bathroom together, our book bags

slung over our shoulders. Not that anyone would have noticed if we had. They’d

probably have thought we’d been talking about boys. I caught Stacy’s guilty smile from

the corner of my eye, relieved to see that I wasn’t the only one blushing. Unable to stop

myself, I reached out and flipped the hem of her skirt up. Not much, perhaps an inch or

two. Enough to make her let out a frightened gasp as she grabbed the blue and green

plaid.

“Don’t!” she hissed, her elbow stabbing me in the side enough to make me grunt.

“You’re such a jerk,” I muttered, unable to keep myself from tittering nervously.

She stuck her tongue out at me in response and then burst into a fit of giggles as well.

Yeah, we were so mature but what would you expect, really? It was our junior year at

St. Francis Catholic High School. Stacy had been my best friend since… well, since I

could remember. Lately, though, I’d been thinking of her a little differently, mostly on

account of the game we’d embarked upon this year. And after today, I couldn’t help but

wonder if she’d been thinking the same things…

o-O-o

It had started in November, three days after I’d turned 16. For my birthday, she’d given

me an unexpected gift; several pair of extremely racy panties. They had to have been

a joke, or so I thought at the time. Thankfully, we’d been in the privacy of her bedroom

when I’d opened them. I’m sure I’d turned several shades of pink.

“Where did you even buy these?” I’d giggled, quickly covering folding the deep purple

tissue paper she’d wrapped them in, and shoving the lid of the box back down.

“None of your business, Tina,” she shot back, her cheeks turning as red as mine felt. “I

just thought…”

She ended the sentence with a shrug. I wondered if she was having second thoughts

about her gift. I know I would have, had our roles been reversed. We were both silent

for a moment, and then, I started giggling again. Soon, we were both laying back on

the bed, tears running down our faces, elbows knees and feet touching, our faces

turned towards each other. Not for the first time, I had a sudden impulse to kiss her,

just to see what it would be like. Like all the other times, I thought better of it and turned

my face away, heat burning not only in my cheeks, but much deeper. Desire coursed

through me, and with it, guilt, fear, and, ultimately, confusion.

“Why?”

Of all the questions I could have asked, that was the one that slipped out of my mouth. I

wondered, briefly, if she knew and she was teasing me, or perhaps she was

encouraging me to share my true feelings. As if I even knew what those were!

“Because… I was too embarrassed to get them for myself. Come one, Tina, at least

take a look. They’re pretty... well… sexy. Be kind of fun to, I don’t know, wear them just

like, where ever. Not like anyone else would know.”

“You’d know, Stacy.”

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, her grin impish.

“Only if you told me.”

That’s how she’d planted the seed into my head. Whether it had been by accident or

design, I wasn’t sure. So, here it was three days later, a Friday, and I’d finally gotten

my courage up to wear one her gift. Three days of her meeting me at my locker right

before home room and asking me what I had on under my pleated uniform skirt

It wasn’t that I was a prude. It was just that I’d never seen myself as sexy and certainly,

I’d never even imagined anything as… decadent and scanty as what Stacy had given

me. Six pair, all sheer, all tanga styled, four different colors. And, of course, they could

have just been given normal names. Passionate pink was the tamest of the names,

followed by wicked white, sinful sapphire, ravishing red and lusty lavender. Oh, and of

course, there was a black pair, for which they hadn’t even bothered coming up with a

clever name. It was simply labeled ‘barely there black’ and wow, was it.

I lost count of how many times I changed my mind that morning, getting dressed for

school. Enough that my mom finally got impatient with me and rushed me out of the

house. In fact, in a way, it was her fault that I ended up wearing ravishing red panties to

school, pushing the door to my bedroom open just as I was about to pull them off one

final time and replace them with a pair of boring white cotton briefs. It was all I could to

grab my skirt and cover them when I heard her knock sharply at my door three times,

her cue that she was about to invade the sanctuary of my room.

And, of course, when Stacy cornered me at my locker, the corners of her strawberry

glossed lips turning upwards, my reacted by blushing immediately before she could

even ask.

“You wore them, didn’t you Tina.”

I glanced around nervously, making sure no one was trying to listen in on us. Not that

they had any reason to, but still, I would have died if any of my classmates found out.

Stacy, thankfully, seemed as hesitant as I to share my secret, pulling my closer, her

warm breath tickling my ear delightfully, leaving me praying that she was unaware of

the sudden flush of desire that that brought on.

“I want to see them.”

“No way!” I mouthed, mortified, a vision of me lifting up the hem of my skirt in the

hallway, revealing the next-to-nothing pair of underwear that I had on beneath it to all of

my classmates. Almost as bad was the sudden spread of dampness. I felt myself

suddenly soaking through the sheer material of Stacy’s gift to me. Humiliated, I turned

my back to her, pushing my face against the cool metal of my locker door, praying

frantically that she wouldn’t somehow notice my state.

“Not here, silly,” she said, her lips brushing against my ear once more, worsening my

condition. "Break time, second floor restroom. Don’t be late.”

She left me, apparently unaware of my reaction to her words, headed towards English

lit, while I managed to make my way towards third year French, careful to keep my

eyes from meeting those of my peers, my heart beating wildly against my ribs as my

thoughts raced ahead to our forthcoming meeting in the girls’ restroom.

That had been the first time we’d met at the break between third and fourth period,

securing ourselves in the stall farthest from the door so that I could nervously lift my

skirt and show off the scandalous gift she’d bestowed on me. It was innocent, our little

game, or at least we tried to keep it that way. If she noticed, and how could she not, the

darker patch of material at my crotch, she never, ever teased me about it, or even

commented. She’s simply tell me how sexy they were, how pretty I was, and how

daring. Soon, I began to look forward to those few minutes. By mutual agreement, we

turned it into a game, creating rules during giggled conversations over the phone, both

of use nervous about being over heard. I think that just added to the thrill.

Rule number one. It was agreed, early on, that Friday was ‘panty day’. That way we

could both build the anticipation up all week, teasing each other about it in secret with

little comments such as I bet you’d look good in pink, Tina or I’m feeling a little blue this

week, Stacy voiced in front of classmates while doing our best to stifle our giggles. It

was fun to feel so naughty, even a little dirty, for once in my life. I mean, before this, the

most I’d ever done was kiss a few boys and, to be honest, I hadn’t really been into it. In

fact, I’d been fantasizing what it would be like to kiss Stacy the whole time, something

I’d never shared with anyone, and I’d broken off the kiss at the first hint of tongue or

wandering hands.

Rule number two. No one else was to know. Not that Stacy would ever give away my

secret, but I made her pinky swear on a weekly basis not to tell anyone. Ever. Not even

if it was a matter of life or death. I just needed the reassurance, seeing as I was the

one taking all the risks. I should mention, by the way, that the junior and senior girls

often made a game out of how high of a hem they could get away with on their skirts.

Stacy was no exception to this rule. I, however, kept my skirt length modest. I had

something to hide, after all!

Rule number three was an obvious one. Once a month, when I had my period, we’d

cancel panty day. Honestly, it put me into an even worse mood, and Stacy had

learned, very early on, not to tease me about it after I spent an entire weekend ignoring

her calls until she came over and apologized in person Sunday night. After that,

everything was back to normal. Up until today. While I was showing off my ‘wicked

white’ underwear with a confidence born of months at our secretive sport, I surprised

Stacy with an idea, once I’d been nurturing for a while, but had only just worked up the

courage to share.

“Show me yours,” I told her, turning it into a question rather than a demand.

“No way!” she giggled, avoiding my eyes, her cheeks slowly turning pink.

As usual, she was seated on the toilet lid before me, her finger brushing against the

hem of my skirt, about to get her weekly glimpse of today’s selection (ravishing red).

For the first time in ages, I pushed her hands away, shivering imperceptibly at the

contact.

“I’m making a new rule," I whispered. For the moment, we had the restroom to

ourselves, but neither of us ever took that for granted. “Rule number four. If you want to

see mine, I get to see yours.”

Stacy’s pout could break hearts. Her lips were as close to perfect as they came, bow

shaped and plump. In the past year, she’d changed, something I, as well as every boy

attending St. Francis, had noticed. She’s always been pretty, her coffee waves, bronze

by the sun’s kiss, her eyes a rich chocolate. As she grew closer to woman-hood,

however, she’d developed curves in all the right places. Had I not been so enamored

of her, I might even have been jealous. I knew that many of the other girls were, having

overheard their catty gossip more than once.

“Oh, well.” I turned, my hand on the door handle, my heart beating wildly, praying hard

that she’d stop me soon, fully prepared to make good on my threat.

“They’re boring, Tina. Just plain grey boy shorts. Not anything like yours.”

I was surprised by her soft sigh and the discontent in her voice. I let my hand slip from

the metal handle and turned once more, regarding her as she continued, her voice

subdued her eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.

“I never thought you’d ask, so I….”

She turned her face from me, shrugging uncertainly. Swallowing, I continued to stare,

letting her words sink in, trying to make sense of them. Had I missed something? Or

had she been two shy to say anything? I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, this

time more like a frightened bird then the painful jackhammer that I’d grown used to

when she’d lift my skirt up and gaze at my skimpy see thru panties, licking her lips…

I’d always thought she was nervous. After all, what if we’d ever been caught, we’d have

become the talk of the school. Now, I had to wonder if there was more to it than that.

A thought hit me then. An inspired, wonderful, terrifying thought. Before I could think

about it and change my mind, I lifted my skirt, and tugged my panties down, peeling

them from my soft, pale thighs, and stepping out of them, careful not to let them touch

the linoleum tiles.

“Here. Meet me here again after class?”

Not waiting for an answer, I slipped out of the stall, closing it firmly shut behind me, and

fled, wondering how I’d make it through two more periods without having a nervous

breakdown. It wasn’t until I sat down in Mrs. Sawyer’s Algebra class that the realization

hit me that I wasn’t wearing anything under my skirt. Pressing my thighs firmly together,

I did the best I could not to think about it too much. It didn’t help that Stacy’s seat was

next to mine, especially when, with a shy smile, she drew my attention to a small

triangle of grey cotton material peeking out of her book back. Her panties. I wanted to

bury my face in my arms on my desk top and pull my sweater over my head. I must

have let out a soft groan, loud enough for Stacy to make a shushing sound. Thankfully,

it was before class started, and everyone was too busy chatting to pay much attention

to me at the back of the class.

Somehow, I made it through, no thanks to my co-conspirator, who managed to flash

me several notes during the next forty-five minutes.

How does it feel?

I’m wearing them.

I think I’m a little turned on.

They’re damp. Yours? Mine? Ours?

For the first time in my life, I almost creamed myself in the middle of class. I can

honestly say, I didn’t learn a single thing about math. I practically ran up the stairs to the

second floor, shaking as I slipped into the very last stall, not caring that I wasn’t alone. I

collapsed on the seat, doing my best to steady my breathing, hands clasped on my

lap, my palms damp. It must have only been a minute or two before Stacy joined me,

doing her best to hold in a giggle, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth. It seemed

like hours.

This time, the roles were reversed. She stood before me, arms folded nervously below

her breast, drawing to my attention how they swelled with each breath. She was

caressing her elbows nervously and biting down on her lower lip, her eyes shut tight,

her dark lashes flush against her olive skin.

Almost reverently, I reached out to stroke the blue and green plaid of her pleated skirt.

Unlike me, she had joined the quiet revolution waged by the older girls against the

teaching staff, the hem of her uniform barely legal. I felt a sudden jab of envy,

wondering how it would feel to know that with one quick turn, she’d reveal her secret;

that hurrying up the stairs just now to the bathroom might have given some lucky guy a

glimpse of more than just ‘boring grey underwear’.

“You sure?” I asked, my voice hushed, the chatter of the girls at the sink counter almost

drowning me out.

“Rule number four,” she replied, her voice quivering with tension.

I nodded and, taking a deep breath, lifted, holding both her skirt, and my breath.

She was beautiful. Not that I’d ever doubted that. Funny. I’d seen her in her underwear

more times than I could recall. After all, we’d been best friend forever. And yet, this

was different. Intimate, despite the fact that we were in a toilet stall. For all I knew, the

rest of the world, for a brief time, ceased to exist until she started to fidget.

“Okay…” she mumbled, my cue to let her hem drop, covering up the treasure long

before I was ready, but not before I took note, as she must have dozens of times, the

how dark the sheer material of her panties were. Hers. Mine. Ours.

She giggled suddenly, and just lije that, the spell was broken. I felt like I’d been

standing on the brink of something beautiful, something dangerous, something that

would change my world forever, ready to take a step... Only the sound of her laughter

had pulled me back from the edge. Resentment and relief spilled from my lips in the

form of giggles as she fell backwards, leaning against the door to the toilet, her eyes

mirroring the emotions that had swept through me.

“We’ll be late…”

“For lunch?” I teased her, unable to get my legs to work, thankful that I was sitting

down.

“They’re having pizza. The pepperoni always goes fast.”

She took me by surprise, then, pulling me up and kissing me. It wasn’t much of a kiss,

just the brush of flesh on flesh like I imagined the first tentative brush stroke upon virgin

canvas to feel like; full of promises, not just a shared moment between friends.

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Glancing into her eyes before she had a chance to

look away, my heart skipped a beat.

o-O-o

“Dweeb,” she countered, making as if to return the favor, her fingers brushing the

material of my skirt teasingly.

“Truce!” I squealed softly, jerking away from her.

“We’re even now.” Her dark brown eyes glittered with amusement as she grabbed the

rail and headed down the stairwell, pausing on the third step until I caught up with her.

Had I been braver, more confident, I’d have taken her hand in mine as we walked

down the stairs, Stacy still wearing my panties, me naked beneath my skirt. Perhaps

she was thinking the same thing. For now, I was content to have her next to me, to

know that she was there, just like she’d always been, like she’d once promised me

she always would be. Screwing up my courage I reached out, hooking her pinkie in

mine. Smiling shyly, she curled hers around it, giving me a little squeeze as we

reached the bottom step and mixed in with the crowd heading for the cafeteria.

89% (10/1)
 
Categories: Lesbian Sex
Posted by adel5000
3 years ago    Views: 388
Comments (2)
Reply for:
Reply text
Please login or register to post comments.
3 years ago
very hot & naughty
3 years ago
This was a really sexy story, I wanna hear more about Tina and Stacey's games :)