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.