Falling in Love with Nitasha - Sex Stories

Falling in Love with Nitasha

... play hard to get and ignore his texts or call him and say sorry. And when I felt low, thinking he was losing interest in me – which was fairly often – she’d throw a consoling arm around me. “He’s lucky to have someone like you,” she said once. “You’re gorgeous and you’re funny.” I know she meant those compliments, because she would repeat them even when I didn’t ask for them. One evening, buried deep in my Maths homework, I felt her looking at me from her desk across the room. I turned my head in her direction and she met my gaze. “You’re really pretty,” she said, then turned back to her books, her dark hair enveloping her face again, like a curtain closing. *** In the Spring Term – we called it Lent – I slept in the junior girls’ dorm, but still saw a lot of Nitasha during the day and evening. We grew closer. Though she had lots of friends – still no boyfriend – I considered us best friends and by the early weeks of term we even had our language, comprising nicknames and code words, impenetrable to others. We referred to Suzanne as the snowman behind her back, thanks to her tiny dark eyes and fat, shapeless legs. An entire vocabulary followed: if we had been ‘snowballed’, for example, it meant Suzanne had shouted at us again. But for all our closeness, it took until the middle of February for me to realise that my fondness for Nitasha might be more than friendship. It crossed my mind when we were alone in the showers after hockey on a cold spring day, with the rest of the ...

... team already noisily dressing in the adjacent changing room. I can’t remember what Nitasha and I were talking about – probably sharing our contempt for the way we’d been kept out in the cold playing fields – but she was doing the talking. I was absently watching the water cascade down her, dropping waterfalls off her elbows as she huddled under the hot flow. As she turned around to face outwards it ran in rivulets, down her front, some dripping off her pert breasts, some forming rivulets over her tummy and down between her thighs, or further down the outside of her legs; warm, wet streams down her long, brown legs. “What are you staring at?” Nitasha’s words broke me out of my daze. “I was,” I said, floundering, “just looking at how dark your skin is compared to mine.” “I know,” she said, brightening and skipping over to me. “I wish mine was like yours. It’s like porcelain.” Under my shower head, Nitasha held her water-spattered forearm up next to mine. “Look at the difference,” she said, before matter-of-factly stretching her right leg out against my left for further comparison. I held my leg up too, as straight as I could, pressing against hers. I could feel the heat of her leg against mine, and see the striking brown against my paleness. My eyes drifted towards her pussy and its darkness. “You’ve got nice legs,” I said, simply. “So have you,” Nitasha said. “Nice tits too.” Then she flicked shower water in my face, skipped out of the shower, grabbed her towel from the rail and ...