Shana
by Adrienne
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This story also contains nudity, and descriptions of sexual behavior between two underaged girls. If you are uncomfortable reading such literature, or are not permitted to do so by the law of your state, then please cease reading this material; the author will not be held responsible for your actions.
If you have any comments about this story, send them to:
adrienne.c17@gmail.com
No flames, spam or sexual e-mails, please! The author is not interested in forming a relationship via this site, and only wishes to receive feedback about the writing.
It was nightfall at the All Girls Soccer Camp. The girls in Cabin E were all presumably asleep, except for Leslie. The midnight air was brisk; it whipped through the cracked and chiseled walls of the cabin and struck Leslie's bones. She thought that a warm shower would be the only way to warm her chilled body.
Struggling out of bed, Leslie got her soap, shampoo, conditioner and towel, and, stuffing all her things into a small carry-on bag, headed for the creaking door of the cabin.
She pushed it slowly, and it opened with a small shriek of protest. Sure- and light-footed, Leslie made her solitary way across the little bridge and along the path to the bathrooms.
She made it there without incident, and shut the heavy door behind her with a relieved sigh. After going to the bathroom, she hastily grabbed her shower products and made her way to a stall, leaving her pajamas and towel lying in a neat, folded pile on a nearby stool.
Standing just inside the door, Leslie twiddled a knob. Ice-cold water gushed forth, and Leslie measured its temperature with her hand, waiting for it to warm. When it did, she slipped gratefully beneath its spray, stretching up luxuriously to welcome the warmth of the clean liquid pouring over her trembling body.
Leslie leaned out of the shower and snagged her washcloth from the jumble of articles heaped on the stool, and then submerged herself once more under the geyser of water. Moistening the washcloth and soaping it up, she lathered her face.
She was just brushing her hair off her forehead and out of her eyes, where it had a tendency to tumble, when she heard the bathroom door ease open. Over the splashing of the shower, she could dimly hear a pair of flip-flops being kicked aside, and bare feet slapping lightly across the tiles. There was a slight pause in movement when the newcomer realized that the room was occupied.
"Hello?" came the voice.
A jolt raced through Leslie. She knew that voice.
"Shana?" she called.
"Leslie?" Shana sounded surprised, and--could it be?--pleased.
"What are you doing?" Leslie asked, blowing water from her lips as she spoke. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strange reverberating off the walls of the shower stall, and the bathroom itself.
"I thought I'd take a shower. It's so cold in the cabins ... it's keeping me up," Shana admitted.
"Ditto," Leslie said, lathering her body and trying to keep all fantasies about Shana out of her head.
There was a rattling sound across the tiling. "Oh, no!" Shana's cry sounded confused.
"What?" Leslie asked.
"The other shower's messed up. The handle just totally fell off."
"Oh, no," Leslie said sympathetically. But a gleeful grin was tickling the corners of her mouth. "This place is really old ... stuff like that's bound to happen."
"Shoot! I feel really bad."
"It's not your fault. Hey, but listen ... if you want a shower, I won't be long. You can use this one after me." Leslie tried to make it sound like she was regretful about having to leave the shower. Which, in fact, she truly was.
Maybe I'll see her naked, she gloated inwardly, then mentally hit herself, not for her homosexual thought, but for the perverseness of it. Shana was a year younger than she, and, as far as Leslie knew, completely heterosexual. So what business did she, Leslie, have, dreaming about Shana that way?
"Oh, no, I don't want to rush you," Shana hastened to assure her.
"No rush. I am still kinda cold, though. Do you want to get your bathing suit and come in with me?"
"Oh ... um, sure, I guess so." Shana sounded doubtful, but not at all frightened. "Do you want me to get yours, too?"
"Nah. Go on and get your suit and come in, if you like. I don't care if you see me." Leslie kept her tone neutral: cool, politely invitational, but not pushy or overly seductive. But not avoidant or hesitant, either.
Shana seemed to consider for a moment. Then she said, "Well, if you don't mind my seeing you naked, then I'll just come in as I am."
Leslie couldn't help grinning secretly.
There was a cool rush of air over Leslie's nude body then, as the door opened to admit Shana. The draught made her nipples come to attention immediately. The heightened emotion of the moment helped, too, of course.
And then Shana was beside her, smelling deliciously of shampoo and hair spray and conditioner and whatever else she used on her hair and body that made her redolence so amazingly good.
"Hi, sweetie," Leslie said, and reached out for her hand. They were classmates, and fairly close, so this gesture was not really out of place, although it was a little more forward than what the pair was used to.
Shana reached out, timidly but seemingly unfazed, to clasp Leslie's hand in return. Obviously hoping to be discreet, Shana let her eyes rove over Leslie's body: the long, almost waist-length blonde hair, straight and plastered thickly against Leslie's prominent shoulder blades, the small but angular breasts, the curve of her stomach, and finally ...
But Shana did not look there. It was wrong. This whole thing still seemed somewhat wrong to her, and what she was feeling in her body was even more wrong.
Leslie noticed Shana ogling her nakedness, and thrilled inside. Outwardly, however, she remained cool, unconcerned and oblivious.
"Wow, Leslie! I can see why you're not freaked about people seeing you naked! You have nothing to be ashamed of!"
Leslie, for her part, now felt incredibly embarrassed and awkward. She had never been at all comfortable in her own skin--hadn't been since she was about twelve. She had always been fairly small and stringy, and she knew that her face, with its watery-blue eyes and pale, thin lips, was nothing special. Neither was her slight, uninteresting build, and what with her unpolished nails, hatred of makeup and likelihood to forget to shave in all the right places, Leslie felt as inadequate as a troll being held up to a supermodel.
Leslie tried to keep herself from looking, but she couldn't. Shana was petite and dainty, with a dark complexion and beautiful waves of thick black hair.
"You're too sweet, Shana," Leslie said finally, noting with further humiliation that the all-too-familiar flush was steaming her rounded cheeks and long forehead.
Shana reached out of the shower and came back with a bar of soap. Carefully keeping her distance, she made suds on her washcloth and washed her face, while Leslie reached for her own shampoo and began to work it into her long hair. Leslie took extra care to put herself on display without seeming to do so. She didn't understand it; she hated her body, and yet, she didn't at all mind flaunting it when possible. What did that indicate? Split personality disorder?
Shana, for her part, had stopped washing, and was staring, open-mouthed, at Leslie. Shampoo was raining down Leslie's arms and pooling along her body, streaking down in arbitrary arcs across her rosy skin. Shana didn't understand the stirrings she was feeling, and neither did she particularly like them. But she couldn't help what she did next.
"Your hair's so pretty," she said, running a finger down one long tendril of it.
"Thank you. Yours is, too." Leslie extended a hand and warily touched a dark lock in turn. She expected the younger girl to draw away. Shana didn't.
"Um, can you wash my hair?" Shana asked.
Leslie tried to keep from gawking. This was too good to be true. "What?"
"Oh, you don't have to if you don't want to," Shana was quick to emphasize. "I just sprained my wrist recently, and the cold makes it hurt."
"It's no trouble." Leslie reached for her own shampoo, and Shana, in turn, moved so that she stood directly before her. "Go ahead," she invited.
Leslie filled her right hand with shampoo and then placed it on the top of Shana's head. Filling her hand again, she patted the shampoo into the lower sections of Shana's hair. Then, replacing the bottle in the little rack mounted on the wall, she buried both hands in Shana's long black tresses.
It was an entirely knew sensation, rubbing sudsy shampoo into another head of hair. Feeling Shana's scalp, the edges of her ears, the peak of her forehead, as they passed beneath her moist fingertips, was incredibly arousing to Leslie. Presently, Shana began to relax, and then Leslie noticed that Shana's back was resting, ever so subtly, against her front. Immediately, the fantasies returned tenfold. Leslie ran her hands through the entire length of the dark hair, so that her fingers ran sensuously down the thin curvatures of Shana's shoulder blades and narrow, accented backbone. Shana shuddered and drew closer.
"Oh, Shana," Leslie murmured unthinkingly.
Shana turned around. Her face was surrounded by billowing tufts of shampooed curls. Water rivulets fell audibly from her hair as she tossed it back over her shoulders, away from the front of her frame.
"Leslie, I'm sorry," she uttered, a little awkwardly.
Leslie was taken aback. "What for?"
"For ... for asking you to do this."
"Don't be sorry, Shana ... please don't. I liked it."
"What do you mean?" Shana quipped.
Leslie shrugged. "I mean ... I ... oh, forget it. I'm not going to lie about it anymore. I like you, Shana. I have a crush on you."
Shana stood, staring. "What?"
"I just do. I'm sorry. I know you're religious, and you'll think it's wrong, but ... that's how it is. I'll ... go now." Leslie made for the shower door, but Shana caught her wrist.
"Leslie, no, wait. How will I know if I'm not that way, too? I mean, I've ..." She gulped. "I've thought about it before. I just ... it doesn't seem ... but I need to know."
"You need to know what?"
"If that's really how I am," Shana clarified.
"You've suspected that you might be a lesbian?"
"No, not really," Shana tried to explain, looking more and more baffled and confused. "But I have liked girls before ... in the past."
"That's understandable. Lots of us go through a phase like that. Mine's just a bit more advanced. Still, I'm not sure I'm a lesbian at all. I've liked guys as well as girls."
Shana sighed, "I see. But Leslie, can you just ... if you really do like me, I mean ... do you mind if we, you know, try some things? To see if we like it?"
"Shana, I don't want you to feel you have to do this to make me happy. I don't expect anything from you at all. I ..."
"No! It's not that! I really want to. Please. I mean, if you want to."
"Oh, Shana. Of course I do."
The water was still running over the two girls. By some miracle, it was still warm. And so was Shana when she moved in toward Leslie.
The first thing Leslie became aware of were Shana's arms moving up around her shoulders. And then Shana, the girl of her dreams, was in her arms under the spray of the shower, and the girls were embracing, their naked bodies pressed intimately close. They could feel one another's hips and breasts and stomachs making contact, and it electrified them both in a way they wouldn't have thought possible.
Shana drew back.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" Leslie asked, reaching up to take Shana's chin in her hands.
"I'm just so scared. But I want to do this."
"What are you scared of?" Leslie asked quietly.
Shana sucked in a deep breath. "Of going to hell. Of paying for these sins someday."
"You were born as you are. I'm not saying you're gay, and for all intents and purposes, you're straight as an arrow. I probably am, too. But even if you weren't, I promise God won't punish you. I'm an atheist myself, Shana, but if you believe God exists, then you must believe He loves you no matter what. I don't know much of anything about religion, but I sure know about being gay. I have lots of GLBTQ friends, and a lot of them have had these same thoughts. They can talk to you about it if you want--I'll hook you up. But we seriously don't have to do this, if you don't want to." Leslie tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She had no idea whether she was being successful or not.
"Oh, but I want to so much!" Shana reached out almost desperately, wrapping her arms in a possessive, clinging fashion about Leslie's slender waist. "I need to kiss you," she whispered, her words almost indistinguishable over the spattering of the water against the shower floor.
"Are you sure, Shana?" Leslie queried softly.
"Yes. But ... I've never kissed anyone before."
Leslie chuckled. "I've only kissed one person before. But I know how to do it well enough, I guess." She framed Shana's perfectly soft face in her hands, and, at long last, after months of dreaming and hoping, Leslie pressed her own lips against Shana's. Shana's young lips were pliant and giving, and the kiss deepened more quickly than Leslie would have expected. Their bodies seemed to fuse together as did their lips. Leslie intended to keep the kiss simple, so as not to frighten Shana, but the younger girl's lips parted beneath hers, and Leslie felt the unquestionable brush of a tongue against the immediate insides of her lips. Obediently, eagerly, Leslie parted her own lips, and their tongues met with a mixture of tenderness and zeal. They swirled their tongues together for a long, electrifying moment, Leslie stroking Shana's cheeks with her fingertips, Shana focusing on the kiss itself.
But then Shana's hands moved; they slid up Leslie's waist and over her back, and then up over the crest of each shoulder. They started moving down Leslie's chest, but then stopped.
"What is it?" Leslie asked, a little breathlessly.
"I didn't mean to--I'm sorry--I ..."
"You don't have to stop. Please don't." Leslie kept kissing Shana, pressing her tongue firmly but gently into the cavern of the other girl's mouth. Shana arched slightly in the embrace, and let her hands slip from Leslie's throat, down the flat section of her upper chest, and, finally, onto the twin mounds of Leslie's breasts. They were small, but the nipples were hard and prominently erect.
"Oh, God," Shana whimpered, tracing each of her index fingers over a nipple.
It was Leslie's turn to arch. "Can I?" she asked.
Shana paused in her touching to reach out, gather Leslie's hands in hers, and place them on her own body, before returning her hands to Leslie's chest.
Leslie let her hands rove with the quality of a butterfly over Shana's smooth back, up over her shoulders, and down her chest. Her breasts, too, were small, but perhaps a little more generous than Leslie's. Being shorter than Leslie, she had raised her arms slightly, giving Leslie very easy access to her breasts in their entirety. Leslie tenderly kneaded and stroked the two perfect handfuls, still relishing the sensation of Shana's fingers on her own sensitive breasts. Water rained on the pair of them, keeping the friction between their hands and bodies slick and arousing.
"I shouldn't be doing this," Shana moaned distractedly, even as her hands worked more and more rapidly over Leslie's body, and her own body was noticeably reacting to being handled similarly.
"It's okay. I promise," Leslie said firmly. She released Shana's chest and swept the girl into her arms again. Shana's back had been pressed against the shower wall, but Leslie turned so that she was now leaning against it, pressing the girl into her arms in front of her, Shana's back beneath the flow of the showerhead.
Shana, caught in the web of Leslie's passionate embrace, suddenly lost all inhibitions, all fear. She hugged Leslie back, their hair mingling between them, their breasts molding against one another as the closeness of the hug multiplied. They kissed again, their tongues wildly strumming across one another, their moans echoing through the small room. Shana's hands raced down Leslie's back this time, and cupped her bottom, clasping one cheek in either hand.
"Oh, Shana, oh, God!" Leslie began thrusting her hips against Shana's, all too aware of the warmth that was steadily building between her legs and in her core.
Shana thrust back, and Leslie reached out, found her firm little butt, and captured it, ramming Shana's pelvis against her own with vigor. Still kissing, the two girls began to hump furiously, Leslie's back resting hard against the shower wall. Shana was growing more and more exuberant.
"Oh, Leslie, I feel like I'm going to ... explode, or something," she gasped. "Help me ... I need to do something."
"You need to come, sweetie," Leslie said.
"I feel like I just want to climb all over you," Shana confessed, gasping, still erotically thrusting her pelvis against Leslie's.
Leslie had released Shana with one hand and was now expertly fingering herself. She stopped for a moment, slipped her hands around Shana's butt again, and boosted her up.
"Throw your legs around my waist," she instructed.
Shana did, spreading her legs in the process. Leslie got a hand between her own stomach and Shana's private area, and began to gently touch Shana.
"You're so wet, and it's not just shower water," Leslie said meaningfully, as she teased Shana's clitoris between her fingers.
Shana's hand involuntarily snaked from nowhere and entered Leslie's private sanctum as well.
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Draw circles, push your fingers around, in and out, whatever you want," Leslie wheezed. Just the contact between Shana's fingers and her private parts was about enough to make her come, but she wanted Shana to come first.
Since Shana's legs were around her waist, and her head was above Leslie's, Leslie found she was facing Shana's chest. She brushed her wet face against Shana's water-drenched chest, found a nipple, and took it experimentally into her mouth, licking it.
"Oh, God!" Leslie could feel Shana coming undone in her arms; she was leaning hard on the supporting hand between her legs, and humping it with insane vigor.
Leslie licked with steadily increasing intensity, as she rubbed and circled and thrust her fingers with the same incremental increase as her licking.
"Oh, God, oh God," Shana was moaning, and before long, she was drawing up straight and taut against Leslie, who gently nibbled her breast, her tongue racing hard over the nipple, her first three fingers tight inside Shana, rocking and twisting and penetrating for all they were worth.
She felt Shana's orgasm coming hard and fast; her own fingers were locked together as Shana's walls contracted around them. Shana was moaning and holding onto Leslie's neck with both arms to stay upright, as warm liquid seeped from within her onto Leslie's hand.
Before long, Shana came down from her high. She looked into Leslie's face, and saw the primal wanting in Leslie's eyes. Shana slid from Leslie's waist, and, being shorter than Leslie, simply knelt up on her knees, took Leslie's breast in her mouth, and reached up with both hands to manipulate Leslie's equipment. In a matter of seconds, Leslie was bucking and moaning in the throes of the most powerful orgasm of her life. When it was over, she all but fell down on the shower floor beside Shana, and as the water pounded over them, they lay there and kissed wildly for all they were worth, loving one another and loving every second of their adventure.