My New Neighbor

MY NEW NEIGHBOR 3

This is a work of lesbian fiction. All of the characters and scenarios existed only in the imagination of the author. If you are offended by adult lesbians having sex with teenage girls, please stop reading immediately.

(Lesbian High School)

In case you don't remember, my name is Chelsea Olsen. I turned 16 earlier in the school year, and I am a Song Girl at James Madison High School.

The second semester of my junior year was proving to be full of up's and down's, but more on that later.

My best friend, and secret girlfriend, is Hope Miller. At 5'8", blonde and beautiful, Hope had been easily elected Homecoming Queen. I think that she looks like Margot Robbie, and her naked body leaves me almost speechless.

Hope, like me, is a closeted lesbian since first being seduced by our cheer coach when she was a sophomore. Hope had a boyfriend, but early in the first semester, she had chosen me over the other pretty girls in our high school to be her covert lover.

Hope and I had first had sex as roommates during a football road trip with the other Song Girls. Thinking of me as a wholly inexperienced virgin whom she was eager to seduce, Hope had been surprised with my girl-girl acumen. Unknown to my trusting parents, I had first had lesbian sex with my sexy, voluptuous neighbor, Connie Halstead, when she was 32 and I was only 15.

Surreptitiously, Hope and I would continue to hook up whenever we could. Sometimes, Connie would facilitate an afternoon hotel tryst for the three of us, and would even bring in her girlfriend, Julie, for some spicy, illicit underage couplings, and no-holds-barred lesbian orgies.

Things were going extremely well, I thought, until I received the devastating news that Connie, a successful Financial Analyst, had been promoted and was being transferred to Chicago. Further, Julie was going with her, thinking she could easily find a new job in the big city.

I tried not to cry as I kissed Connie goodbye. My parents had no idea of my inner angst. They only knew that a friendly neighbor was moving away.

I felt like a wanted fugitive as Hope and I shared furtive kisses in the shadows. Basketball season had been a series of disappointing losses, so in February, our Song Girl activities were essentially over for the school year, except for a few remaining school assemblies.

Hope had applied to a number of colleges, including State U, where Connie had been a cheerleader some years earlier. Unknown to Hope, Connie had used her friendship and influence with the current State U cheer coaching staff to have them review Hope's student application, and to look at some video that Connie had made of Hope during our football games.

The State U coaching staff was blown away by Hope's gorgeous, pin-up-like, blonde good-looks, and graceful, athletic dancing skills. State U offered her a full scholarship with housing. Hope was ecstatic, as were her parents, who would be saving a great deal of money each year.

Unfortunately, that meant that Hope would be leaving for college much earlier than initially planned. Again, I was devastated. The final months of my junior year ended with a thud.

While I had recently received my drivers license, I wasn't sure that Mom and Dad would let me make the long drive to State U to visit my "friend" over the summer. I didn't know what I was going to do with myself with Hope, Connie, and Julie all gone.

The senior Song Girls were all given goodbye presents from the junior girls during the last week of school, and there were a few tears shed. I would be one of three returning Song Girls in the fall. Soon-to-be seniors, we were all quietly excited about "ruling the school" in September.

Tryouts for the for the following school year were to take place that week. The returners, like me, were expected to attend. Miss Lavorski instructed us to sit there quietly, and to not openly root for any girl.

The only thing that I can say positively about that second semester was that my scrawny, 5'2" body had finally begun to grow, mature, and blossom. Mom said that I was a late bloomer.

During the six months since my November birthday, I had grown four inches taller, and my slender figure had begun to fill out and develop curves. Most importantly, my boobs were now full 34-B's. Each week I seemed to notice changes, and I couldn't wait to get naked and look at myself in the mirror. When we were alone, Hope couldn't seem to keep her hands off of me, despite the danger of our being caught.

Sitting in a folding chair watching the Song Girl tryouts. I suddenly felt sorry for the dozen or so girls who were competing for just three open positions. I had once been in their shoes, but I had been blissfully unaware of the pressure.

I knew, or knew of, all of the sophomores who were trying out. They all looked like skinny little girls, and the weight of the world seemed to be on their shoulders.

I felt so sorry for the girls who made performance mistakes. Unfortunately, not everyone is cut out to be a dancer. There were however, several promising candidates who could possibly add to our squad strength in the coming school year.

All of the girls were thanked, and Miss Lavorski promised that the names of the three new Song Girls would be posted first thing in the morning, which was also the last day of the school year.

With all of the sophomore girls cleared out of the gym, Miss Lavorski sought our input. All three of us returners gave our candid opinions, as we were asked to do. Miss Lavorski seemed to seek my viewpoint above all others. I assumed that it was probably due to the fact that I was the best of the returning dancers. As a senior, like Hope had been, I would be expected to help to get the new girls up to speed.

After a meeting of the minds, three new Song Girls were agreed upon. I wanted to hug and console all of the girls who weren't going to be selected.

At the end of our pow wow, Miss Lavorski pulled me aside and reminded me that she would soon need to name a new captain. I hadn't given it much thought before that moment. Hope had always been our captain. But, I would be proud to replace Hope if I was selected. Miss Lavorski texted me her address, and suggested that we meet the following Saturday at noon to discuss the captaincy.

The next morning, I went out of my way to avoid the hallway where the names of the new Song Girl and Cheer squad members were posted. Try as I might, I couldn't manage to evade the happy squeals of the newly successful, and the disappointed faces of those who were left behind.

That night, I sat with Hope's family at her graduation ceremonies. The Madison boys wore blue caps and gowns, while the girls wore red. Hope's luxurious blonde hair was easy to spot as she walked to the podium.

I sat next to Hope's brother, Tommy. Tommy would be graduating from 8th grade the following week. Hope had confided that Tommy had a crush on me. He was nervously squirming at being in such close proximity to me, particularly since I had begun to noticeably blossom, looking more like a woman, and less like a teenage girl. To calm him down, I briefly took his hand, and remarked to him at how beautiful his sister looked. He looked like he might faint.

I further surprised Tommy when I attended his junior high graduation ceremony the following week. Wearing my prettiest white dress, I sat next to Hope and we happily remembered our own junior high graduations, when we were dorky, skinny, 13-year-old's.

Tommy's eyes lit up when he saw me standing with his family after the ceremony. Seeing that he was surrounded by a wide-eyed group of his friends, I decided to give him a congratulatory hug. I held Tommy for maybe a second longer than what would have been expected, pressing him into my maturing boobs.

Knowing what that would do for his "rep" as an incoming high school freshman, Hope's mother mouthed the words, "Thank you" towards me. I was happy to do it. His surprised reaction was adorable.

The night before I was to visit with Miss Lavorski, Hope cautioned me on what I could be in for. As a skinny sophomore cheerleader, she too had visited Miss Lavorski. Before she knew it, she was naked and her juvenile pussy was being licked.

Sex with a grown woman had not been at all unpleasant for Hope, and she would make more return visits during her high school years. Knowing that I was no virgin, Hope advised me to "Do whatever you think best," suggesting I might even have a good time fucking the former college tennis player.

Borrowing Mom's car, and lying to her, saying that we had a Song Girl meeting that afternoon to discuss the coming football season, I departed for Miss Lavorski's home. It was a hot June day, and I was casually dressed in shorts, and a red t-shirt emblazoned with "Madison Song" across the chest to continue the façade with my mother about a team meeting. I had chosen not to wear a bra, and my nipples were tingling in anticipation. Of what? I didn't know.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Miss Lavorski answered. At forty-something, she was still remarkably fit, and was dressed in a white and yellow tennis outfit. Instead of a skirt, she wore white tennis shorts. Her dark hair was cut boyishly short, and was parted on one side. The way that she was looking at me, I suddenly felt like an insect entering a spider's web. "Had I really thought this out?" I wondered.

Miss Lavorski made no effort to hide her lusty intentions, and seemed to be drinking in every inch of my newly-maturing body as she welcomed into her home. Sitting on the couch, the P.E. teacher sat uncomfortably close to me.

Miss Lavorski started: "Chelsea, I was really impressed with you this past school year. The girls look up to you as an excellent dancer and as a student. I'm thinking that you might possess the leadership skills that we need in a new captain."

Things were going well thus far, "Thank you, Miss Lavorski. I'm very flattered." Almost interrupting me, she added, "I would think that you learned a thing or two from Hope. She was always a particular favorite of mine."

Looking deeply into my eyes, Miss Lavorski searched for any trace that Hope and I had been more than just good friends. Uninvited, she put her hand on my bare thigh to test my reaction. I must admit that I froze for a second or more, but I didn't remove her inquisitive hand.

I had learned from Hope that the Song Girl captain had more responsibility than I had originally imagined. In addition to leading and organizing the other girls, the captain was allowed to select uniforms for the coming school year, and to help develop new dance routines for the games and assemblies. I'm not going to lie. I wanted to be the Song Girl captain!

Not wanting to go through a phony, innocent little girl charade with Miss Lavorski, I laid things out on the table for my coach: "I think that I am capable of doing a great job as cheer captain, and I won't be coy. I want the job." Miss Lavorski was surprised by my frankness. I don't think any of the other girls had ever spoken to her like that before,

"I'm a big girl, Miss Lavorski, and Hope was very candid about her prior relationship with you. So... What do you want?"

The Song Girl coach was taken aback for a moment, then said: "Why, I want YOU, my dear. I need you to demonstrate to me that you want to be, and deserve to be captain."

With everything now out in the open, and with little time wasted unnecessarily, I lifted my red, "Madison Song" t-shirt over my head. I had purposely not worn a bra. My budding, now-B-cup breasts, were sensitive to the touch as Miss Lavorski began to impatiently paw me.

While squeezing my developing breasts, she leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head. The ground rules were to be clearly understood. I considered kissing to be an intimate act to be enjoyed with someone that I genuinely cared for, or was at least attracted to. I would fuck Miss Lavorski, and let her fuck me, but I wouldn't allow her to kiss me. It was a quid pro quo transaction only.

With my tender young lips unavailable, Miss Lavorski turned her attentions to my pink nipples, greedily licking and sucking them as her lecherous hands actively roamed across my upper torso.

Her right hand was kind of rough, probably from all of that tennis. Miss Lavorski obviously had an affinity for teenage girls, and I'm sure that Hope and I weren't her only conquests over the years.

Still sitting cooperatively on the couch, Miss Lavorski suddenly forced her hand beneath my shorts and panties. Her coarse hand rubbed my pussy fiercely. "Hold on! Hold on!" I cried. "You're too rough." Miss Lavorski apologized, which gave me time to remove my shorts and panties.

Laying back on the arm of the couch, I was now completely naked, and mentally prepared for whatever would come next in my quest to be Song Girl captain.

For a few moments, Miss Lavorski wordlessly stopped to admire my blossoming, 16-year-old body. Twelve months earlier, I had been barely 5'2", and kind of skinny. I'm sure she wondered how Hope had selected me as her lesbian lover?

Seemingly now out of her brief trance, the Song Girl coach began gently petting my carefully trimmed blonde pubes, muttering, "Tsk, tsk. That'll never do."

Last summer upon becoming a Song Girl, one of the seniors had pulled the junior girls aside, and told us to keep our pubic hair trimmed. She then added wisely, you don't want any wild hairs popping out of your Spanks. Some horny boy could take an embarrassing picture with his cell phone." I thought that was pretty good advice.

"Let's go to my bedroom," Miss Lavorski said gently. The wildness seemed to be out of her eyes. I was completely naked, and she was still dressed in her tennis outfit.

Placing a towel beneath me, she sat me on the edge of her bed. Looking at me as if I were a prime cut of beef, Miss Lavorski removed her yellow tennis top. The older woman was wearing a white sports bra beneath. Unzipping the front, I was surprised and impressed by how big and meaty her breasts were.

For a woman in her 40's, not that I had ever been with a woman in her 40's, her boobs were pleasantly firm and not saggy at all. I reached out to touch them.

Looking around the room, I saw an assortment of sex toys on her dresser. I wondered if they had been used on Hope or any other girl that I knew?

I was curious when Miss Lavorski disappeared into her bathroom. I could hear the water in the sink running. Returning, she carried towels, shaving cream, and a pink razor.

Spreading my legs, she wet my blonde pubic hair and lathered it with shaving cream. I don't know why I allowed her, but Miss Lavorski then shaved my pussy clean. I an "aha" moment, I assumed that she had first given Hope her sexy, bald pussy.

Patting my newly-hairless pussy dry with a towel, Miss Lavorski dropped to her knees and began hungrily eating me out. Miss Lavorski was undeniably skillful with her tongue. I had simply wanted to get through with my end of the bargain, but I soon found myself enjoying her experience tongue and fingers, and it wasn't long before I orgasmed.

As I rested on my elbows, I took a long, hard look at Miss Lavorski's body. I guess I had never really noticed her muscular frame before. Miss Lavorski was built solidly, but attractively. I imagined that I could bounce a quarter off of her taut stomach.

Now joining me on the bed, I latched onto her firm boobs with my hands. They were almost as big as Connie's, but Miss Lavorski always kept them pressed beneath a sports bra. The P.E. teacher smiled as I appeared to enjoy playing with her boobs, eventually taking one into my curious mouth.

Miss Lavorski stroked my blonde ponytail as I alternated suckling her boobs. Feeling emboldened, I reached for my Song Girl coach's equally-hairless pussy, and began rubbing it gently. Miss Lavorski laid on her back as I vigorously finger-fucked her. Sufficiently wet, I bored into the older woman with my youthful tongue.

Miss Lavorski's hips and stomach undulated in unison as I tongue-fucked my way to the team captaincy. Stopping for a moment to retrieve a dildo from the dreser, I forced the rubber penis into her mature pussy. With my other hand, I probed her big clit as I continued to force the dildo in-and-out. I wasn't at all gentle, and she seemed to respond eagerly.

With the way that Miss Lavorski looked back at me, it was clear that I was more experienced and aggressive than the other girls. Thinking of the other teenage girls that Miss Lavorski had seduced, perhaps unwillingly, I became increasingly furious.

I had never worn a strap-on before, but I found myself getting off the bed to angrily put one on. Pointing the dildo toward Miss Lavorski's mouth, I grabbed a tuft of her butch, short hair until she unwillingly placed into her mouth.

I can imagine that fellating the counterfeit cock was anathema to Miss Lavorski, but I forced it deeply into her distressed mouth.

Miss Lavorski seemed more pleased when I repositioned her on all fours, and entered her pussy from behind with the dildo. Fucking her furiously, I reached below her to squeeze her ample breasts, and hold onto them for leverage.

My hips were now working like a steam engine as I angrily fucked the 40-something lesbian sexual predator. Removing the dildo from her vagina, I shoved it into her unsuspecting anus. If possible, I began to fuck her even harder.

I'd like to say that my fury taught her a lesson. However, she seemed to enjoy every moment. As I began to dress, she looked up at me from the bed, naked and exhausted, asking me if I would come back.

Arriving back home that afternoon, Mom asked: "How was your meeting, honey?" "A little rough at first," I answered, "But I got through it." I laughed to myself.

Later that summer, I received the cell phone call that I had been dreading from Hope. I credited her for not sending am emotionless text or email to dump me, but she gave me the news that she was in love with another college girl, and that they were moving into a dorm room together.

Hope proudly told me that she had even come out to her parents. They were surprised and perhaps a little unnerved, but Hope was confident that "They would get over it."

Throughout our short conversation, Hope kept repeating, "I never wanted to hurt you." Eventually, we closed our conversation. There would be no summer trip for me to State U. I felt more alone than ever.

With the school year now dawning, I was now more confused than ever, and I desperately wanted a girlfriend, or at least the sexual intimacy that I had received from Hope, as well as Connie and Julie.

I tried to forget about my woes, and I tried to enjoy my senior year of high school. After all, I was the captain of Madison's Song Girl team.

For one of the team's uniforms, I had selected the sexiest Song Girl outfit that I could get away with. The sleeveless tops were tight against our teenage bosoms, and displayed an exceptional amount of our bare, flat bellies. With our first varsity football game set for the evening, I sashayed proudly through the school hallways. I was now nearly 5'7", and my body had filled out in all of the right places, with the promise of more as I continued to physically mature.

I heard a voice call out, "Hi, Chelsea!" Looking around, I saw Tommy's beaming freshman face. Calling him by name, I said, "Hiya Tommy, how goes it?" As I continued down the hallway, I could see that the boy was being surrounded by other young boys wondering how a Song Girl knew his name. It was cute.

Retrieving a text book from my lower locker, I wasn't thinking that I was wearing such a short skirt, and bent over, undoubtedly revealing my red Spanks. Turning around quickly to ensure that my skirt was now covering my ass, I noticed a very pretty, if flat-chested, freshman girl staring at me longingly. I wondered if that's the way that I had looked at Hope?

While the younger girl was undoubtedly attracted to me, I thought her far too young to get involved in my crazy life. I closed my locker and walked away.

Connie would text me from time to time. She was enjoying Chicago, and had recently managed to sell her house which was five doors down from mine.

One day, returning from school, I saw a moving van in front of Connie's old house. I decided to introduce myself, and to welcome my new neighbors.

Finding who I assumed to be the mother, she smiled and said that her name was Amy Robertson. Calling her daughter, a tall brunette emerged from the house. With long brown hair tied in a ponytail, the girl must have been almost 6' tall as she shook hands with me. "Hi, I'm Charlotte," she said, "But everyone calls me Charlie." I could feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I talked to the tall beauty.

Her mother, correctly assuming that I was in high school, asked which school I went to. "Madison," I replied. Both women smiled. Charlie would be going to Madison as well.

Knowing that her daughter could use a friend in the new town, she suggested that Charlie take a break and talk with me awhile to get the lay of the land.

Charlie was already 17, and would, like me, be a senior at Madison. Charlie expressed to me that she hoped to play first base on Madison's softball team. I offered to introduce her to the coach.

I had never hit it off with another girl so quickly or easily. It was like we had known each other all of our lives. I was excited to have a new friend to help fill the void in my life.

"If you're not busy tonight, why don't you pop over?" I asked. Pointing to the white house up the street, I said, "I just live over there. We can make some popcorn and watch a movie." "Sounds great," Charlie said. With that, she returned to helping her mother unload boxes from the moving van. I practically danced home. There was just something about Charlie that I couldn't put my finger on.

At around 8:00 p.m. our doorbell rang. I said, "I'm expecting a friend," and opened the door. For a moment, my heart seemed to stop. Charlie was dressed casually in a pair of small white shorts that appealingly showed off her long, tan legs, and a little t-shirt that showed just a sexy hint of her belly button.

Welcoming my new friend inside, my parents were sitting on the couch watching TV. "This is my new friend, Charlie. She just moved into Connie's old home." Looking at the tall girl named "Charlie," Charlie quickly added, "They named me Charlotte, but I never really liked it." My Dad let out a sympathetic laugh as my parents welcomed Charlie to our home.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. & Mrs. Olsen," Charlie said politely. "We're going to go up to my room," I said. Charlie followed me as I bounded up the stairs. I could hear my mothers voice saying, "Let me know if you need anything."

Charlie looked around at my room, I think it was more "girly" than she was accustomed to, and was decorated in mostly in pinks and whites. My mother had decorated my room, and I had never thought much of it. Hope had never said anything about it either.

As I looked self-consciously around my room, I noticed that all of my popstar pictures were of attractive girls: Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, Miley Cyrus, Katy Perry, etc. I embarrassedly wondered if Charlie could read anything into that?

Spotting my Song Girl outfit, Charlie walked over to touch the fabric on the red, white, and blue outfit. "You're a cheerleader?" She asked. "Song Girl," I corrected her. "Makes sense," she added. "You're so pretty." I was quiet for a moment, then said, "Thanks. So are you." Charlie smiled back at me. I wondered if I was blushing.

Growing up as an only child, I have to admit that I was pretty spoiled. I had a large-screen TV in my room and Netflix. Choosing a movie, I handed her a pillow, and we relaxed against the headboard of my double bed.

Later, Mom arrived with a try full of soft drinks, snacks, and popcorn. "Thanks, Mrs. Olsen," it all looks great!" I could tell that Mom was impressed with Charlie's good manners.

The movie wasn't that great, and we talked all the way through it like old friends. I learned that Charlie had lived until recently in Jonestown, about 200 miles away. She had been an all-county softball player at her old high school, and had hit over .450 (whatever than meant). She didn't have much of a relationship with her father, and her mother had taken a new job, and here they were.

I was surprised, but pleased, that Charlie had opened up so much after only knowing me for a couple of hours. I felt sure that we would soon be best friends, and I was eager to help her navigate her way around Madison High.

I had never really thought that there was anything particularly special about myself, and told Charlie so. I lived a typical middle-class life with my parents, and planned to go to college in the fall. I told Charlie, "The most interesting thing that ever happened to me was when I became a Song Girl."

Charlie asked me if I had a boyfriend? I mumbled some B.S. about "Never having had time for that."

Suddenly, Charlie stunned me: "I think you're really cool, Chelsea. I hope that we can be good friends, but we can't if I'm not honest with you." I looked at her intently. What was suddenly so wrong? Did she have a fatal disease?

"I'm a lesbian," Charlie said nervously. "I like girls, and I don't intend to hide it. I had a girlfriend at my old school." I was too startled to speak, but I reached for her hand and held it.

On Monday at school, I walked Charlie to all of her classes and introduced her to all of my friends, and to the softball coach. The cheer and song girls eyed the "new girl" suspiciously, but were eventually won over by her friendly charm. One of them had a more pronounced "gaydar" than I possessed, and quietly realized that Charlie would be no threat to stealing any of their boyfriends.

My romance with Charlie started out slowly and cautiously. I was still very much in the closet, but I was convinced that I needed to break out. One night when we were alone, I unburdened myself about my lesbian sexual experiences. I left out the threesomes, foursomes, and orgies, and I didn't mention any names, least of all Miss Lavorski's. I didn't want to start any rumors that could lead to her dismissal.

Charlie seemed a little surprised about my multiple partners, but not too much so, and gave me an understanding kiss. I was in love with Charlie, but, oddly, I had made no attempt to have sex with her. Calmly asking if she would be my girlfriend, Charlie said "yes" with a broad smile. I wanted to do things right by her.

Charlie's mother was, of course, aware of her daughter's same-sex preference, and must have been curious about our growing friendship. I knew that all of the pressure would be on me to come clean.

One night after dinner, I summoned up all of my courage, and I asked my parents to sit down. They looked at me curiously. I had always been a sensible girl, and not prone to dramatics or histrionics. "Mom, Dad, I like girls, and I'm going to be dating Charlie... out in the open. We really don't give a damn what anyone'll think."

Dad looked shocked, while Mom seemed just a little surprised, but not so much so.

I continued, "I want you to know that this isn't just something out of the blue. I think I've always known. I just don't want to hide who I am any longer." I gave not the slightest hint that I had already had sex with Connie, Hope, Julie, and Miss Lavorski!

Dad got up, and said, "I've got to think." Mom invited me to sit next to her on the couch. Tears were streaming down my face. I loved my parents, and I didn't want them to be disappointed in me.

My mother lovingly hugged and squeezed me, and gave me a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Honey, your Dad and I love you no matter what. To be perfectly honest, I always thought it curious that a pretty, popular girl like you never went out on dates with any boys." She then whispered to me, "I think your Dad was always happy about that." I gave a little laugh, and wiped the tears from my eyes.

Dad soon reentered the room. "I guess I'm an old dinosaur, but I have to accept that it's the 21st century. Peanut, I love you." He hadn't called me Peanut in years. Picking me up from the couch, he hugged me tightly as my feet dangled in the air. Things were going to be alright.

Holding hands at school, Charlie and I came out as a couple to all of our friends. Thankfully, we got a lot less flack than I had feared. A couple of egocentric boys, I was told, used this as an "aha" excuse for my rejecting their attempts to date me. And a couple of girls looked at Charlie and I sideways, but it seemed like no one was eager to be the first to outwardly express homophobic comments at our school. The cheer and song girls actually put a sort of protective cocoon around our relationship.

Charlie was accepted in our house as almost a second daughter, and I was treated similarly at Charlie's house. As I was now 17, and Charlie was 18, our "sleepovers" were on a "don't ask, don't tell' basis. Making love with Charlie's long, lead body was better than I had dreamed of, or had ever experienced.

Charlie was my date for the senior prom. It was the first prom that I had ever attended. I wore a beautiful pale blue, full-length dress, while Charlie wore an elegantly, tailored, yet feminine, tuxedo. We were voted Prom King & Queen. Whattya know about that?

The End.

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