Lesbian Coming Out Stories: Part Three

Cadence sprained her ankle at the last cheer meet of senior year. She was stuck on the couch when Riley stopped by after practice. Riley had that easy laugh and quick hands. Cadence liked having her around more than she ever liked being near boys. Riley offered to paint her toenails—said it would make the cast look less pathetic. She blew across each nail between strokes, the warm air grazing skin Cadence never thought twice about. The tingle climbed straight between her thighs. She tried not to squirm, terrified her new friend would notice how wet she was getting from nothing but breath on her foot. Riley wiped the polish brush on the bottle, capped it, then scooted closer. Her palms slid up Cadence’s bare calves, over knees, settling on the tense muscles at the tops of her shoulders. The pressure pulled a quiet sound out of her throat. She turned just enough to meet Riley’s eyes and didn’t look away. Riley grinned, leaned in, and kissed her like it was the obvious next step. Tongue first—light, curious—then teeth on the soft swell of Cadence’s lower lip. Riley’s hands moved again, tugging the cheer tank up, freeing small pale breasts that felt suddenly heavy. She licked one nipple, rolled it with the flat of her tongue until it tightened, then the other, while her fingers wandered lower. Cadence’s shorts came off. Riley breathed against the damp cotton between her legs, then hooked it aside and tasted her for real—slow laps that ended with a careful suck on her clit. Cadence’s hips twitched. She reached for Riley, pulled her higher, got a thigh between her own and ground against it. Riley laughed into her mouth, slipped two fingers in, curled them, and Cadence came with a short cry, thighs shaking. Riley worked her through it, then swung a leg over Cadence’s face so they could taste each other at once. Cadence copied what she’d just felt: licking, sucking, pressing with the tip of her tongue until Riley’s thighs tightened around her head and she flooded her mouth. Neither stopped. They kept going—fingers, mouths, hips rocking—until Riley’s hand pressed down hard on Cadence’s lower belly and she gushed across the couch in a sudden rush, the clear spill soaking Riley’s wrist. Riley followed seconds later, grinding against Cadence’s mouth, voice breaking on a string of soft curses as she pulsed and dripped down Cadence’s chin. They stayed tangled afterward, Riley’s cheek against Cadence’s thigh, both of them breathing like they’d run the length of the field twice. Cadence’s ankle throbbed, forgotten.