This is a work of celebrity lesbian fiction. If you are offended by popular TV characters engaging in lesbian sex, please read no further.
(Celebrity Lesbian, Brady Bunch)
16-year-old Marcia Brady was a blonde beauty... and she knew it. In fact, as far as she was concerned, she was THE prettiest girl at Westdale High School, even though she was only a junior. Marcia didn't feel that she was bragging. It was simply a fact, she thought.
Boys would circle around the pretty teen like vultures in Death Valley. However, she knew what they were all after, and Marcia didn't plan to put out until her wedding night. And preferably, with a genuine celebrity like Desi Arnaz, Davy Jones, or even Joe Namath. Girls her age that let a boy go past second base were just sluts, and what she considered "damaged goods" from there on out.
Despite her inarguable beauty, life wasn't perfect. Her own half-brother, Greg, had denied her a spot on the cheerleading squad so as not to offend his trampy girlfriend. Marcia would get him back. She was just biding her time for cold revenge.
Marcia had to admit that Greg was kind of cute though, in a sort of dorky way. He could play the electric guitar, but he played and wrote really lame songs. One small injury on the football field had caused him to quit the team and become their photographer. What a pussy! She thought.
Marcia knew very well that Greg would love to fuck her. Step-sister or not. But teasing him, like pretending she didn't realize her legs were open when she was wearing a miniskirt, was all part of her plan to torture him. On hot summer days she would sometimes walk around in her bathing suit just to watch him try to hide the growing bulge in his bellbottom pants.
One thing that was really concerning Marcia lately was that there was a really pretty blonde girl in the freshman class. Her tits seemed to be growing larger every day. That little bitch was her sister, Jan. And Jan she seemed to be taking a lot of attention away from Marcia.
Frankly, Marcia had liked things a lot better when it was just her three sisters and her mother living together. Her own father had died a hero when his fighter jet had been shot down over Vietnam. Now it seemed, no one even remembered that he had existed.
Marcia thought that her stepfather, Mike, was nice enough, but she had picked up some weird vibes one day when he was talking to Tommy, a cute teenage lifeguard at the community pool. Something seemed, well, odd about the man.
Her other two step brothers? Well, she could certainly do without them. There would be a lot more room available in the house if they simply didn't exist.
In 2022, some would say that Marcia was a narcissist. In 1973, Marcia would simply say that she was confident.
Marcia noticed one afternoon at school that a poster had been put up announcing a school talent show. First prize would be $100. Marcia figured that she could purchase several new outfits at "Judy's" or "London Britches" for that kind of money. She was determined to win the contest. But what to do?
Marcia's first thought was to simply model her newest pair of Hot Pants. Marcia knew that if she wore "nude" pantyhose that her legs would look gorgeous in the shorts, but she just wasn't sure that something that required her to be silent would be enough to win the contest.
Marcia had been told in church that she had a "pretty" singing voice. Perhaps if she sang a modern "pop" song, she could win the talent show? She began to think of hit songs by female artists that she might sing at the talent show: "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane? No. That was a little too wild. "Nutbush City Limits" by Ike and Tina Turner? Well, she could look pretty foxy dancing in her Hot Pants, but that song would be hard to sing without a band. Suddenly it came to her: "Both Sides, Now" by Judy Collins. It would only require a decent piano player to accompany her.
Marcia walked to the local music store after school to buy the sheet music. A carful of teenage boys wolf whistled at her as she walked down Main Street. Marcia had been accustomed to this since 7th grade. She smiled, and kept on her way.
When Marcia got home, Peter and Jan were similarly excited about the talent show. Peter was going to do some lame magic act, and Jan was going to be his "beautiful assistant." Jan suggested that she wear her new yellow bikini, but their mother quickly put a halt to that idea, suggesting instead that she wear one of her dance leotards that their housekeeper, Alice, could perhaps sparkle up.
Marcia knew that a groovy song like "Both Sides, Now" would crush Jan and Peter's stupid magic act.
Marcia got to school early the next morning to meet with Miss Foster, Westdale's popular young music teacher. Marcia noted that Miss Foster lit up when Marcia entered her classroom, and gave her a deep, friendly hug. Miss Foster agreed immediately to be Marcia's accompanist and vocal instructor for the talent show. "It would be her great pleasure," the young teacher said.
Miss Darlene Foster was a 28-year-old M.F.A. graduate in Musical Composition from New York's Sarah Lawrence College. A traditionalist, she felt that it was a mistake when boys were admitted to the prestigious liberal arts school. As an undergrad, she had been in one of the last all-female graduating classes.
For an "older woman," even Marcia had to concede that Miss Foster was really quite pretty, and looked a little like Karen Valentine from Room 222, except with straight brunette hair that went down almost to the middle of her back, like so many of the girls at Westdale. Miss Foster also tended to wear shorter skirts than the other women in the faculty, and she drew a lot of attention from the Westdale boys.
As the contest was in less than two weeks and they had no time to lose, Miss Foster agreed to meet with Marcia in the music room after her final class of the day. She could then review the sheet music, and Marcia could sing a few bars so that they could find an appropriate key for the piano.
Marcia was wearing one of her cutest mini-dresses and knee-high boots that day. Marcia styled up the outfit with a short, "mod' scarf around her neck. Miss Foster invited the pretty teen to sit next to her on the piano bench while she reviewed the sheet music.
The tune was a familiar one to Miss Foster. The song was a big hit with the "folky" crowd when she was in college. Within five minutes she was able to work out the song on the piano. Miss Foster asked Marcia to sing a couple of bars of the song acapella so that she could find her singing key, which would obviously be much different from Judy Collins' noteworthy soprano.
A highly trained classical musician, these were very simple tasks for Miss Foster. Again. in a very short time, she was able to find the appropriate key for Marcia's singing voice. Both girls beamed in accomplishment. They had found the right sound. Miss Foster put her arms around Marcia, who was still sitting on the piano bench, and gave her a big hug, and rubbed her back.
Marcia felt an odd, warm sensation throughout her body while being hugged by the pretty, single, music teacher.
Marcia sang the song all the way through two or three times while being accompanied by Miss Foster. The young teacher worked with her eager pupil to eliminate any clunky notes. In a very short time, the two were able to put together a serviceable talent contest song, but Marcia knew it could be better.
Unfortunately, Miss Foster had other commitments the next couple of days with the school orchestra and choir, so she suggested that Marcia come over to her apartment on Saturday. They could practice on her piano, and even have a swim in her San Fernando Valley apartment pool.
Marcia thought that would be "bitchen," but she didn't have her drivers license yet. "No problem," said Miss Foster. "I'll pick you up, and drive you home." Marcia detected an odd little smile, but thought she was imagining things.
Marcia wasn't used to other attractive females being nice to her. She was oblivious that some of it might have been her own fault. Marcia wondered why a pretty, talented woman like Miss Foster hadn't been snatched up and married already. "Well," Marcia reasoned, "Maybe her boyfriend just hadn't popped the question yet?"
Miss Foster patted Marcia's pantyhosed upper thigh, and wished her a good evening.
Saturday came quickly, and Miss Foster pulled up to the Brady home in her new, baby blue Ford Mustang convertible. Marcia came running out of the house carrying a small bag which contained a bikini and towel. She was followed by an inquisitive Mrs. Brady who met the young teacher, and was immediately impressed by her manners and grace.
Not that there was any previous question, but Marcia had the full "green light" to spend the day with Miss Foster. "Boss wheels," Marcia said, complimenting Miss Foster on her new Mustang.
It was a relatively short drive to Miss Foster's fashionable horseshoe apartment complex, the Tiki Gardens, which had recently been painted in avocado green, much like the Brady appliances. Every apartment seemed to overlook the pool, and the residents seemed to be mainly under the age of 30.
As they walked to Miss Foster's apartment, Marcia confessed that she was so happy to get away that day. "Sometimes there are just too many people at my house," Marcia lamented. Miss Foster agreed that all teenage girls sometimes needed privacy.
Miss Foster's single-bedroom apartment was tastefully decorated, and didn't bow too deeply to the fads of the 1970's, except for a very funky see-through phone. As was typical of a Sarah Lawrence graduate, Miss Foster appeared to have come from money and breeding. The furniture was made of solid woods and was expensive, with even a few antiques here and there.
There were a couple of family pictures on the baby grand piano, and there were pictures of Miss Foster with other women and girls, presumably her fellow college classmates.
One small marble sculpture stood out to Marcia. It looked rather old, so she dared not touch it. It was of a seated female wrapped below in a robe, but with her breasts exposed. The figure appeared to be that of an ancient Greek or Roman woman. Marcia didn't know the difference.
Seeing Marcia admiring the sculpture, Miss Foster simply said, "That's the poet, Sappho." Marcia nodded her head, but really didn't understand the significance.
There was a saying at the time at the all-girls Sarah Lawrence College, "Lesbian until Graduation." Miss Foster knew that the saying didn't apply to her. She knew from early on that she had no desire to marry an "appropriate man" from a similar eastern school background and to start a family. Her parents were beginning to pressure her to "settle down" after completing graduate school, and that was one of the many reasons that she had chosen to begin her teaching career in Southern California.
Darlene Foster was one of the more attractive girls on the Yonkers, NY campus. She had developed a reputation as being among the more sexually active girls on campus, and had bedded many of her fellow female students, and a female faculty member of two.
Moving to Southern California had presented even more opportunities with more carefree girls than some of the stuck-up, tweed-wearing, hairy-legged, repressed lesbians that she had encountered on the Sarah Lawrence campus.
Jane Foster would often spend her weekend nights at one of the several lesbian nightclubs in West Hollywood. The sex was free and open. It was 1973 after after all. A beautiful young woman, Jane would rarely fail to pick up a stewardess or an aspiring actress or model. To Jane, California was a "pussy paradise!"
Usually confining herself to women and girls over the age of 18, Jane found herself unusually attracted to young, Miss Marcia Brady. Her sunny, golden-haired California looks were so unlike the frumpish, dark-haired college girls back east who secretly enjoyed having their hairy pussies serviced by other girls.
"What would you like to do first?" Miss Foster asked. The words startled Marcia as she was still taking in the lovely apartment, and imagining being a young career woman with her own space, and not having to share it with any siblings.
"I dunno?" Marcia replied. "It sure is hot, why don't we cool down for a swim first?" Marcia suggested. Miss Foster nodded her head in reply and smiled at the pretty, sunny blonde 16-year-old.
Miss Foster pointed to the bathroom, "You can change in there," she instructed Marcia. Miss Foster walked into her bedroom to put on her own suit.
Marcia had several bathing suits at home to choose from. She knew that she was usually competitive with other girls, but this time something was different. She didn't know why she wanted to look particularly "foxy" for Miss Foster, but she just did.
Marcia had carefully selected a pink and purple paisley-print bikini that she had worn on a recent family trip to Hawaii. It was cut deep enough in the front and the sides that Marcia felt it made her look particularly sexy, and a little older than her 16 years. Marcia admired herself in the bathroom mirror, and brushed her long, blonde hair until it looked perfect. She carefully examined her bikini bottoms to ensure that no stray pubic hairs were sticking out.
Exiting the bathroom, Marcia could only utter "Wow!" when she saw Miss Foster, who was wearing a white crocheted French bikini. It was cut very high on the bikini bottom sides, and Marcia could swear that she could see a hint of Miss Foster's nipples through the crocheted fabric.
"Do you like it?" Miss Foster asked Marcia, twirling to show her firm ass in the daring white bikini. "I picked it up two summers ago on the French Riviera." Miss Foster wasn't attempting to brag, she was just telling the teenager where she purchased it.
Marcia thought to herself: "Trips to France, her own apartment, a "bitchen" new car," this woman is living the life!
Marcia snapped out of her daydream when Miss Foster said, "You look very cute." "Cute? Cute?" Marcia was internally seething. She was the foxiest girl at Westdale High. Everyone knew it. "Cute?!"
The two girls headed to the pool and Marcia momentarily forgot her insecurities as the water quickly cooled her off. Both girls tied their hair in buns. No one wore bathing caps anymore in 1973.
Marcia looked around. There was no one in sight. Marcia thought that odd on such a hot day, but resumed swimming. Miss Foster playfully splashed her. The pair talked and swam for about 45 minutes before Miss Foster asked if Marcia was getting thirsty. Marcia confessed that she was.
Miss Foster said that she had made a pitcher of iced tea, and would go to her apartment to fetch it. "Be right back," she said, and gave Marcia a quick peck on the lips as she walked towards the pool steps.
A million thoughts went through Marcia's head at that moment. Just as quickly, Marcia's mind went blank as Miss Foster began walking up the pool steps. The dripping water seemed to cling to every inch of the daring French bikini as it became almost see-through as it highlighted Miss Foster's long legs and fit body. Marcia asked herself if she had ever noticed before how big Miss Foster's boobs were? Suddenly her own 32-B breasts seemed like those of the schoolgirl that she actually was.
Marcia's arms involuntarily crossed her chest as she waited for the beautiful music teacher to return with the iced tea.
Marcia's head was spinning. She had certainly acknowledged that there were other attractive women before: Raquel Welch, Barbara Eden from "I Dream of Jeannie," Peggy Lipton from "the Mod Squad," and several others. But this was different. This wasn't someone on TV, this was a real, live person, in an itty bitty bikini.
The teenager suddenly imagined herself kissing Miss Foster. "Marcia... Marcia..." The words snapped Marcia out of her daydream. Marcia stepped out of the pool to have a glass of iced tea. The two women sat in chaise lounges and soaked in the sun. Each girl hoping to add to her tan that day.
Miss Foster asked Marcia about school, and Marcia asked the older woman and college and what it was like to be an adult. Miss Foster was more open than any adult that Marcia had ever encountered. Miss Foster even shared some dating woes, while not revealing that the object of her affection was a beautiful 21-year-old blonde Pan Am stewardess from Denmark who was pretty free with sharing her affections with a bevy of women, including Miss Foster.
Miss Foster poked a single finger on Marcia's flat, reclined stomach. Marcia's skin quickly went from a mild red to white. "I think we've had enough sun," said Miss Foster as the pair gathered their things to return to the apartment.
"I've really enjoyed our conversation, Marcia." Miss Foster said. "In addition to being beautiful, you're much more mature than your years would imply." Marcia felt quite grown up, and blushed just a little. Marcia wanted to hug Miss Foster, but both of their hands were full with towels, iced tea, and glasses.
Walking into the apartment, Miss Foster put the pitcher of iced tea back into the refrigerator, and put the glasses in the sink.
Miss Foster put her arms around Marcia's shoulder and began to rub her bare arms. "Why don't we wash off this chlorine and then we can get down to work." With that Miss Foster removed her crocheted bikini top, which was now dry. Marcia's eyes nearly exploded from her head as she looked at Miss Foster's large, full breasts and erect nipples.
Marcia again raised her arms involuntarily in order to shield her own breasts which now seemed small, and inadequate.
Miss Foster's hands moved to untie Marcia's bikini top. "This apartment doesn't have a lot of hot water, so we should shower together to avoid a cold shower."
The logic seemed irrefutable, and Marcia noticed when Miss Foster's bare breasts "accidentally" rubbed against Marcia's back. Marcia had showered naked many times with other girls after gym class, so why did today seem so different? Why was she suddenly feeling so shy?
Marcia's pink and purple bikini top was now on the carpet. Marcia's perky 32-B breasts were tan-lined from frequent visits to the pool and beach. Marcia enjoyed strolling in her bikini knowing that boys and even men were ogling her smooth, young body. Marcia's nipples were more of a light brown than pink as she attempted to cover them with her hands.
"Oh, you have pretty breasts, Marcia," said the music teacher. "Do you mind?" Miss Foster asked. Without waiting for an answer, Miss Foster began to lightly caress Marcia's 16-year-old tits. "They're wonderful," she said. Before removing her hands, Miss Foster playfully pinched both of Marcia's nipples.
"Yours are so much bigger," Marcia said truthfully. "Oh, well maybe just a little," replied Miss Foster. She reached for Marcia's hands and encouraged them to squeeze and play with her breasts. Both girls were only dressed in their bikini bottoms.
"Come," Miss Foster said. She put her arm around Marcia's bare waist, and led her towards the small shower. Miss Foster removed her bikini bottoms, and Marcia followed suit. Both girls had hairy, dark bushes.
The shower was only built for one, so the two girls had to squeeze into the tiny shower area. Their naked bodies were nearly pressed together as the water was turned on. Miss Foster's true intentions became very apparent when she passionately kissed the 16-year-old on the lips, and she said, "Marica, I'm so glad that you came here today."
Marcia's mind seemed to leave her body as Miss Foster began to soap down her naked body. Miss Foster's nimble hand and a bar of Ivory soap made several exploratory passes between Marcia's tan, slender legs, which caused Marcia to shudder with pleasure.
"May I kiss you?" Marcia politely asked. "Of course," came the whispered reply. Marcia had, of course, seen open-mouthed kissing in the movies, but had never allowed a boy to do it with her. Feeling no inhibitions there in the tiny shower, her tongue began to explore Miss Foster's open mouth, as the water cascaded across their naked bodies.
Not wanting to scare off the teenager by penetrating her with her fingers, Miss Foster had nonetheless explored every inch of Marcia's naked teenage body with her hands or tongue, paying particular attention to Marcia's small, firm ass.
Turning off the shower, Miss Foster handed Marcia a small towel, which Marcia was unable to wrap around her torso. Reaching for another towel, Miss Foster began to carefully dry off Marcia's breasts before using the towel on herself. The teenager's nipples were erect, like two small pencil erasers.
Looking into Marcia's deep blue eyes, Miss Foster announced, "I want to make love to you." Marcia was only vaguely aware of what that meant with two girls, she nonetheless gave a single nod.
With one hand on Marcia's pretty, tan-lined ass, Miss Foster directed the 16-year-old to her bedroom. Marcia was aware of a couple of strategically placed mirrors, and a nude painting of a woman on the wall. Marcia was placed flat on the bed, and the naked music teacher laid beside her.
Miss Foster continued kissing Marcia as her hands again began to explore Marcia's tender, young breasts. Marcia had dreamed of having them caressed like this but hadn't imagined it coming from another girl. Miss Foster's hands were soft, but she licked her fingers before having them circle Marcia's nipples and areola.
Releasing one hand from Marcia's nipples, Miss Foster began to explore the teenager's hairy thatch. Finding her prize, Miss Foster began to rub the outside of Marcia's pussy. Marcia's young body involuntarily tensed up at the music teacher's touch. No one had ever touched Marcia's nether regions before then.
Knowing that she would soon be penetrated by Miss Foster's fingers, Marcia gritted her teeth in anticipation. She wasn't sure why, but she assumed that it would be painful.
Circling Marcia's vagina, a single finger eventually entered Marcia's tight, virgin pussy. There was no pain, and Marcia experienced a new pleasurable sensation as Miss Foster's finger gently entered in and out. Seeing the tenseness in Marcia's young face, Miss Foster reassuringly kissed the teen.
With one final kiss of each of Marcia's tan-lined breasts, Miss Foster positioned herself between Marcia's, slender, young legs. Marcia again tensed up as Miss Foster began to kiss around the 16-year-old's inner thighs and nether regions.
Finally, the music teacher used both hands to open Marcia's pussy lips, and entered deeply with one long stroke of her experienced tongue. Marcia's legs began to spasm at this unfamiliar sensation.
Starting slowly, Miss Foster soon built to a frenzy, her head shaking in all directions as she attacked Marcia's virgin pussy like a hungry lioness devouring a freshly taken down gazelle. Marcia found herself clutching Miss Foster's head as an encouragement for her to go deeper and deeper. The teenager came in just a few minutes, emitting a loud moan which caused her to put her hands over mouth. Miss Foster laughed as she rested the side of head on Marcia's pubic area.
It was Marcia who began her exploration of Miss Foster's body. Starting with her breasts, Marcia licked and suckled them before kissing her way down the music teacher's body. Miss Foster closed her eyes as the shapely teen rubbed their naked bodies together.
Marcia surprised Miss Foster by parting her legs and lifting them midway in the air. Marcia briefly poked around with her fingers before tasting her first pussy. Not sure of what to expect, Marcia found the taste to be satisfactory and soon found Miss Foster's clitoris. Seeing the teacher's reaction, Marcia continued licking until Miss Foster was convulsed in a powerful orgasm.
The pair of lovers reclined in each others arms as they kissed softly. Their warm bodies became entangled on the soft mattress.
It was nearly dinnertime when the Mustang pulled into the Brady driveway. The younger kids were playing outside, and Marcia sighed now that her adventure with Miss Foster was over.
She imagined that she could smell a pot roast cooking. She had certainly worked up an appetite, but dreaded returning to what she now perceived as her hum drum, ordinary existence.
As Marcia exited the convertible, she turned to Miss Foster and said, "I hope we can do this again someday." Miss Foster smiled, looking at the Brady kids playing in the front yard, "Oh, absolutely," Miss Foster promised. Looking at Marcia's younger sister in her cut-off shorts and bulging halter top, Miss Foster added, "And maybe you can bring your sister, Jan, next time?"
Miss Foster backed up, and drove to her apartment, all the while imagining a blonde, Brady sandwich.
Marcia thought to herself as she prepared to enter the house, "Fucking Jan, Jan, Jan!"
Stay tuned for Part 2.
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