Thirty-Five Years
Brings Déjà vu to Reality
By H.G. Hunt
Chapter 2
Lisa was nearly done studying one warm and lazy May
afternoon in her dormitory when the shadow at the open door
drew her attention away from the textbook. It was Jean,
looking for Wanda. “Again,” Lisa fumed internally. While
typically a very sweet girl, the irritation in her voice
could not be contained when she muttered in her
saccharin-sweet tone “What do you want?”
Sensing the annoyance in Lisa’s voice, and not being one of
Lisa’s big fans, it was no surprise that Jean retaliated
with “What fucking business is it of yours?” She stepped
inside the small room, shutting the door behind her, and put
her hands on her hips in an unambiguous gesture of bravado.
Lisa wasn’t about to let this hussy enter her room with that
kind of attitude without an equally uncompromising reaction.
She stood up and in overly dramatic fashion mimicked Jean’s
pose, but with an exaggerated thrust of her hips and a
brutally obvious outward thrusting of her chest, which was
somewhat concealed inside a rather tight white simple
t-shirt. “I just MADE it my business, tramp!”
Taking one step nearer towards her perceived foe, Jean
spouted “Don’t stick your ugly tits out at me, slut!”
There had been a few occasions the past few weeks when the
caustic remarks of the two young women, not that many years
removed from their junior high school days, where vicious
put-downs are the order of the day, had focused on each
other’s bodies, Jean’s breasts had been the subject a number
of times. Jean had made equally insulting comments about
Lisa’s body, usually for Wanda’s ears, and often Lisa would
hear those remarks as well. Jean’s retort wasn’t the first
time Lisa had heard this, but the spirit was definitely
challenging. Lisa wasn’t about to back down from the girl
she viewed as a thieving bitch. “Look Cunt. I’ve got the
best tits in THIS room. I’ll stick ‘em out any time I damn
well please. So why don’t you just shut your ugly face?” She
took a deep breath and thrust them farther forward, her
balloons pressing hard against the cotton of the thin white
t-shirt. Her nipples, hardened from the sudden onrush of
excitement, poked firm dots in the fabric, provoking and
challenging Jean even more.
“Oh really,” she drawled ever so slowly, “there’s no way
your saggy tits are better than mine!” Jean inhaled a gulp
of air and thrust her own breasts forward causing the fabric
of her pale green t-shirt to stretch magnificently across
the gap between her own hardening nipples. The cauldron of
emotions roiling inside caused her to do something that
would have ordinarily been out of character. But THIS was
IMPORTANT! She swiftly pulled her green top up and over her
head so she could thrust her chest out again towards Lisa,
who while taken aback at first, felt an equally compelling
desire not to let Jean take ANY advantage, no matter how
slutty, in this encounter. She would be just as audacious.
“Oh girl, you’re gonna wish you’d never have done that.”
Even as she spoke she couldn’t help but stare at Jean’s
tan-lined breasts. Bra-less attire was quite common during
those early days of women’s lib and on campuses across the
country. Both Lisa and Jean were proud to let their feminine
mammalian assets run free a lot of the time, especially
around the dorm (which back in the early 70s wasn’t coed
yet). Lisa’s top came off in about two seconds, her perfect
36B/C pair, bouncing just a bit as the top flew up and over
her head. Lisa stepped closer. Only about 2 feet separated
them now and she upped the ante as only a determined and
spiteful woman can do. “What IS that smell? You’ve got a lot
of nerve coming in here and stinking up my room with that
funky twat of yours.”
“You’re the only one that stinks in here bitch! Your ugly
cunt drips slimy every time you see me coming. I know you’re
really a fucking lesbo cunt-licker!”
“Not a tenth as much as you are slut! I think you frig
yourself to sleep every night dreaming about me.”
“Yeah right! I dream real nice. I dream about fucking you
over good, you whore.” Jean laughed her haughtiest laugh.
“You better wake up from your dream the next time that
happens and get down here and apologize. You’d be the one
getting fucked over bitch!”
“We’ll see about that! No better time than right now, cunt.”
In two swift kicks, her shoes were off and across the room
and her shorts were on their way down. “Are you woman enough
to find out RIGHT NOW?” With a sugary sneer she pulled her
white cotton panties down and held them up in front of
Lisa’s face. “This is what a REAL woman smells like; girl!”
With a challenge like that, Lisa couldn’t even consider
backing down. It was all she could do to keep from punching
the bitch hard in the nose. Clearly Jean was trying to use
the age factor to her advantage, being one year older than
Lisa. But Lisa stepped to the plate with as much bravado as
she could muster, the excitement of the moment not
completely destroying her mental faculties. She ACHED to put
Jean in her place, once and for all. She had been barefoot
all afternoon and it took only a few seconds for her shorts
and panties to be yanked off. She reciprocated the
panty-favor; forcing the musky-sweet odor from her damp
panties forcefully into Jean’s face. “Get used to that
smell, bitch! Cause after I fuck you silly …” She paused a
moment, “You can have some more of that up close and
personal.”
The panties dropped to the floor, both girls ready for the
imminent clash. They were silent for a brief moment as they
glared at each other, their eyes making a quick trip up and
down each other’s naked bodies. Their eyes came back
together in a defiant stare. What they had seen as they
gazed upon each other was fabulously sexy.
Jean stood about 5 feet 5 inches tall; her hair fell barely
to shoulder length, soft curls framing her face. Her 38B/C
breasts didn’t look quite as big as Lisa’s, maybe because
she was a bit wider in the shoulders. Her waist tapered
inward curvaceously and then swept back out to a pair of
firm hips and powerful legs. Her light brown bushy
womanhood, unshaved of course, flourished like a little
patch of grass, nestled in between her legs, framing the
entrance to her pussy. Jean gazed at Lisa, absorbing in the
sexy sight of her rival.
Lisa, her long dark brunette hair framing her pretty face
and lovely eyes, was a sight for sure. She stood about 5
feet 3 inches tall; her slightly trimmer waist made her
breast appear larger than Jean’s even if they weren’t. They
were fronted by pert nipples, now hard and protruding far
out in front of her puckered areolas. Her legs were just a
bit more slender than Jean’s and her very dark triangular
patch of hair at the nexus of her legs and crotch thickly
covered her lovely pink and moist pussy lips. The color of
her bush was dark, dark brown and very thick, thicker by a
slim margin over Jean’s fuzz. The mutual stare/glare didn’t
last long, but just long enough for the silence of the
moment to escalate the tension. Jean couldn’t help but be
impressed by the sexy girl daring her to do something. Lisa,
a flutter of butterflies in her stomach, was way beyond
letting her trepidations get in the way of her desire. She
wanted desperately to put Jean in her place.
TO BE CONTINUED