Brandi's opus (a.p)

[apenman]

Dear Board Members-

Here are a few chapters from my latest effort. As per usual for yours truly, there’s a concerted effort to move away from the standardized sexfight format. Please do not interpret this statement as negative in any way, as I truly feel there’s a whole lot of excellent writing going on in this forum. It’s merely my way of saying, “I gotta be me.” I hope that you will enjoy this story, especially the way that I’ve chosen to construct it.

By the way, later on in this story there’s a celebrity cameo appearance by a VERY SPECIAL lady. After days of stress filled negotiations, my agents and her agents finally reached a mutually satisfying agreement, (tongue in cheek). I expect that most/all of you will recognize her immediately.

Thanks,
A. Penman


BRANDI’S OPUS
by Brandi Knowlton
(Co-Authored by A. Penman)

Hello everyone! Brandi here, from the “Gopher” series.

I just wanted to take a little time to write down what's been going on in my head these days - to shed a little light on my personal history, both ancient and recent and to talk about how all of this led up to my current “relationship” with the beautiful Fallon Romero. Perhaps it might be of interest to you, perhaps not. But if you decide to stick around, you should know this has the earmarks of a very long tome. And it’s going to be a long and winding journey. So buckle up, buckaroos. Let’s have some fun!

More and more, recently, I'm finding that writing is an interesting and rewarding form of release. I love putting words down in a word processing program and shaping them into a coherent series of thoughts. Reading them over, I find I generally like the way they turn out. I also find that I enjoy the satisfaction of self expression I get from this creative process. I’m even thinking of doing this on a fairly regular basis, independent from what’s his name. Despite the fact that I love my work, it doesn't offer much in terms of creative expression. Writing is a nice outlet for me. I enjoy it immensely. Since I’m fortunate to be a woman of sizable attributes (DD) with a healthy sexual appetite and, considering the main topic of interest on this board, writing my private, amatory thoughts down can be a rather stimulating experience, if you catch my meaning. So then, here goes nothing.

First of all, a clarification. There's been some silliness and speculation about why my name is spelled Brandi with an i. The answer to that one is simple. In an effort to be kind and obliging, my parents allowed my beloved grandparents (who are children of the 60s, as in “flower children”) a say in naming their first grandchild. Yes, I'm the proud grand daughter of two hippies from the 1960s. LOL. When their beautiful granddaughter (that would be me) appeared on the scene, they were so proud as to be euphoric. But thank goodness my parents stipulated a unique name would be acceptable, but nothing ostentatious. Otherwise, you could have been reading an account by someone named “Moon Beam” or “Patchouli.” LOL. And that is how Brandi with an “i,” instead of the traditional “y” came to be. That's really all there is to it. (smiley face).

Anyway, for the record, the author of the Gopher series has done a reasonable job describing my sexual escapades over the last several months. And despite the fact that I am a character of his, i.e. a figment of his fertile imagination, he still is unable to fully plumb the depths of my most intimate thoughts. And so, since the subject of woman to woman is so incredibly sexual and erotic, I wanted to get into the mix and hopefully give you a more intimate perspective - to give you a more personal access to my thoughts - to share with you, (the avid and heavily breathing reader) the explosion of sensations that goes on in my brain from the instant that my juiced cunt meets with Fallon’s. My pussy quickens with anticipation. Let us begin…

As you already know, I first physically encountered Fallon when that impertinent bitch showed up at my door one evening on the pretense of helping me edit some pictures from the photo shoot she and Bill (my then boyfriend) had worked on. And to clarify, as it stands right now my relationship with Bill is kind of on again and off again. I’m not one hundred percent certain of the reason for this. In his photography business he encounters lots of beautiful women. Who knows? Maybe he’s tired of my tits and wants to move on to another pair. That’s his choice. But it’s also his loss. My tits are pretty spectacular. No harm, no foul. I guess that people just drift apart.

Anyway, at that time, being his ex-girlfriend, for some reason Fallon got a bug up her ass and decided that she wanted Bill back. I’m not sure why I had to fight her, since she and Bill had broken up several months prior to this and I was his current girlfriend. One would normally think that the matter was settled. I mean really, get over it bitch! Move on! In all of my breakups in the past, I accepted the end of the relationship. Sure, there’s the initial period of hurting and self blame, but I would inevitably come out of the experience unscathed. It wasn’t that difficult. And really, with Fallon’s body and her looks, she shouldn’t have had any trouble. I’m guessing that this beautiful woman was not short of admirers.

Anyway, that fateful evening when she dropped by my place with that chip on her shoulder, talkin’ ‘bout wantin’ her man back….well I wasn't havin’ any of that.

So that night, instead of editing pictures, the cheeky slut challenged me to physically fight her for the right to be Bill's girlfriend. It had been a long time since I’d taken on another woman. So, when the bitch pushed, I pushed back. No hot looking, big titted bimbo was going to come into my house and lay claim to my boyfriend. Not without a fight.

Normally, I would have been Bill’s photographer’s assistant -“The Gofer” if you will. But I had to beg off this assignment due to a much anticipated reunion with my former college roommate. When that fell through at the last minute, I decided to drop in on them at the photo shoot. And that’s really where it all began. When we were formally introduced, I was stunned and rather titillated by how beautiful she was. But there were daggers in our eyes from the onset. The unnecessarily long and firm handshake, the locked eyes with menacing glares, the slightly deeper breathing and the less than subtle glances we both stole of each other’s sizable chests and the noticeably hardening nipples…all signs between two women that a clash was imminent. She was so beautiful and, hence, so threatening, that I knew that the sooner I put her in her place, the better. Fallon was a threat that I needed to deal with. I suppose it could be said that I fell right into her trap. Well, so be it. Somehow, in the back of my mind I had always known that Fallon was still a factor - not so much in Bill’s mind, but in her own. To Bill’s credit, he considered their romantic relationship over. She, however, did not. This woman still believed that she was a part of Bill’s life. And from past experiences I knew that a woman who was living with a delusion was a potential danger. I guess I always knew that I would eventually have to deal with her. So when she showed up at my house I was more than happy to accommodate her. The time for our showdown had arrived. In a strange way, it was kind of liberating.

Both of us being women of honor, and women of considerable endowments, we understood immediately that our confrontation would have to take place with as little clothing as possible. I made the initial overture. Let me see if I can recall our opening dialogue - the prelude to the main event.

“So, Fallon. Let me ask you something.”
“Fire away, bitch.”

I brushed off the opening hostilities. My past experiences taught me to not let an adversary get under my skin.
“Would it be a fair assessment to say that, despite the friction between us, you and I are both classy ladies - both women of honor?”
“Sure. I can go along with that.” Fallon then paused and asked, “Where are you going with this, Brandi with an i?”

I flashed this unsuspecting bitch my most wicked grin, said nothing, then began to unbutton my blouse. When my joyous breasts were freed from the confinement of my brassier, Fallon could not control her gasp of amazement. My tits always get this kind of reaction. But, as I was about to find out, my boobs were not the only pair of great tits in the room.

“Women of honor indeed, dear Brandi.” She returned my wicked grin as her hands moved quickly to the buttons of her blouse. In seconds, Fallon’s incredible breasts - a perfect match for mine - were standing proudly free and eagerly accepting the challenge to do battle with my girls. As it was meant to be. We then completed the strip down and neatly folded our clothes and placed them side by side on the couch.

Some people have asked if the folding of our clothes in such a manner bore any significance. They wanted to know if it was some kind of act of defiance between us. I’m inclined to say no. Regarding this, I offer these few lines of surprisingly non hostile dialogue.

“Well, it seems that we have one thing in common.” Fallon observed.
“Really? What’s that?” I asked.
“Looks like we’re both anal-retentive neat freaks.”
I burst out laughing. And for a few seconds at least, we shared an unexpected moment of tenderness between two women. But I just couldn’t help myself. I had a fight to win and I planned to use any means at my disposal.

“I suppose that’s good. Because, my dear Fallon, when you leave here in a few hours with your tits sore and your ego torn and tattered, at least your clothes will be neat and in one piece.”

A little bit of defiance, sarcasm and smack talk on my part, for one reason. It had the desired effect. It pissed her off. Now she had been drawn into my trap. I intended to take full advantage of my long experience in this type of female confrontation. But, memories of sexfights past told me not to underestimate any woman. From head to toe, Fallon’s body was an amazing match for my body. I had to take this woman seriously. Fallon and I were now stripped off to our skimpy panties. As we faced each other, hands on hips and breasts heaving, there was no mistaking the wet spots between our thighs and the thrilling scent of our mutual female arousal.

If anything, our mutual willingness to strip naked was the real act of defiance - the true, intimate challenge. That’s when two well endowed women face each other and strut their stuff in tarty poses. Oh, women are masters in body language. And at this point between Fallon and myself, there was a provocative, wordless conversation going on. In the unspoken challenges between our eyes and our voluptuous bodies, we were asking each other, “are you woman enough slut?” or “do you seriously think that your body is a match for my body, bitch?” Women can be rather dramatic.

Most men likely don’t know this, but between most women, especially women like Fallon and myself - women so prodigiously endowed - there’s an age old unspoken understanding. If two women agree to meet in a private physical confrontation, it’s important to both women that there is as much body contact as possible, clothes on or clothes off. Whether it’s a dominance thing or a sexual thing, I’m not sure. Personally, I believe that it’s a healthy combination of both factors. Needless to say, skin to skin contact is preferred. I mean if two gals get into a bar fight, the fists fly and the hair is pulled and they often roll around on the floor and such. The clothes tend to stay on, but if anything gets torn in the process, so be it. But between two women in private, the motives and objectives are almost always different. Things are far more personal. And certainly both women are always aware that the naked latency of heated lesbian sex is always nearby in private woman to woman fights. We all go into our confrontations with that in mind. Just knowing this always brings the dimension of eroticism to each battle. In my experience, it’s always better when two beautiful women tangle naked body to naked body. If the fight turns into a fuck, so much the better. Now, a few words about my experiences. A little bit of history is required here.

PART 2

INGRID (LOVELY INGRID)

This current “thing” was not so current. It actually started in college, as you may already know. Or, perhaps more accurately, it started in high school and exploded in college. I can remember getting into a few catfights in high school. Usually they sprung from petty high school girl jealousies. I remember this girl picking a fight with me because we happened to be wearing the same sweater! And, of course, there were the occasional “he’s my boyfriend, not yours” battles. But they never really amounted to much, other than the standard screaming, cursing, hair-pulling roll-arounds. After it was over, me and my opponent would always end up shaking hands and laughing at ourselves and our silliness and why we felt we had to fight over some dorky high school boy. But there was always that inexplicable twinge of eroticism that was inherent in each fight. I just blew it off as something that came with the process of two girls in a faux fight. But here’s the thing. If one of these physical tangles was especially vigorous, I always felt an overpowering urge to relieve myself later, in private. It wasn’t until I got to college that I understood that these heated girl on girl encounters could be a whole lot more. A WHOLE LOT more!

In both high school and college, I was always an excellent student. I could skim over new information and retain it rather easily. Most likely, if I had seriously applied myself, I could have gotten my four year degree in business in two or three years. But I didn’t do that because college, to my surprise, turned out to be a rather interesting experience for me. And believe me, that’s an understatement.

It started in my freshman year. It was one of those long holiday weekends when most of the girls (private school-women only) went home to be with their families and/or their boyfriends.
My first year roommate was a tall blonde sophomore named Ingrid who had indeed come from Sweden to attend school here. Obviously, Ingrid wasn’t able to fly home to Sweden every holiday. So, since my parents weren’t going to be home that weekend, I stayed with her in the dorm. She appreciated the company.

For about the first three months, I had a dormitory room all to myself. But then the school authorities decided it would be a good idea to pair this freshmen student with an upperclassmen to “show me the ropes.” They weren’t singling me out. They did this all the time. And with the ever increasing student population, dorm space was vanishing. So it made sense. And I had no problem with that because Ingrid was charming, witty and drop dead gorgeous. When I say that, I mean that not only was her face beautiful, but her body was sheer perfection. As roommates in a modestly sized dormitory room, there were plenty of occasions for us to parade around naked with each other. We occasionally spent time comparing bodies. Our large full breasts, toned abs and gently flaring hips were a great match. We were very well matched, except in one area. With each nude encounter between us, I got a considerable amount of teasing from her for my hairy pussy. Ingrid’s well endowed pudenda was bald and beautiful. Kinda made me tingle when looking at it. Anyway, I don’t want to extend this unnecessarily, so I’ll get to the point.

On Friday evening of that long weekend, Ingrid and I went out for dinner then came back to the dorm. After a couple of glasses of wine, Ingrid got personal with me.

“What’s going on with you and Leanne?” she asked, seriously.
“What do you mean?” I replied, not certain that I wanted to discuss it.
“I’m talking about the obvious friction between you two busty bitches.”
I acquiesced.
“I don’t know. Typical cattiness between two girls, I guess.”
“You gonna fight her?” she asked, bluntly.
“I hadn’t planned on it. Why do you ask that?”
“Because I’m your roommate and your mentor and, believe it or not, I actually like you. I’m even concerned about you.”
“Well…I appreciate that. But you needn’t be concerned.” I said, dismissively. Truth is, I was flattered that she was worried about me.
“Oh?”
“If the bitch decides to come at me, I can handle myself. I’ll knock out a few of her teeth.”
“So, you’ve been in a few catfights, have you?”
“Of course I have. And forgive me, Ingrid, but why all the fuss about a typical two girl rivalry?”

We were sitting on the couch, close to each other in our nighties. She turned to me and took my hands in hers, holding them gently, but firmly. Then she spoke to me like a mentor and friend.

“Look, Brandi. I can almost assure you that this hot bitch is going to test you. And you better be ready for her.”
“What are you so nervous about, Ingrid? I told you that I can fight, and I’m certainly not afraid of some big breasted skank. If it happens, I’m sure that I’ll be OK.”
“Sweetie, you don’t quite understand. This isn’t high school. It’s college - all girls all the time, and the rivalries are very intense.”
“Like I said, hon, I’ll kick her ass.”
She paused, thoughtfully, then continued.
“Maybe in a regular fight, but this is very different.”
“Oh nonsense! I’ll pound the slut into next Tuesday.” Then I thought for a second. “What do you mean, ‘very different?’”
Ingrid stood straight up, her balance slightly affected by the wine.
“Let me show you, Brandi.”
With that, my amazing blonde roommate peeled off her nightie, then slipped awkwardly out of her panties and stood completely nude before my admiring eyes.
“Now, you.” she ordered. I rose to my feet, nervous and slightly inebriated.
“Uhh…are you serious?”
“Dead serious! Strip off, girl! All the way.”
I had never received this vibe from Ingrid before. I knew that I needed to comply. So I stripped down to my birthday suit. She took a step back to admire the beauty that stood before her.
“Damn, Brandi! Your body is spectacular!” She gushed.

Next came the moment that literally changed the course of my life. Beautiful Ingrid moved forward, placed her hands on my hips and then lined her stiff nipples up directly to mine. I felt a shock wave of arousal such as I had never before felt when she pushed her nipples into full contact with my instantly responsive nips. Holy crap!

“INGRID!!!” I said, breathlessly. “Would you please explain all this to me? Preferably BEFORE I have a spontaneous orgasm?”

She laughed and then used her body to make things absolutely clear.

“This is how it is in an all girls school, dear Brandi.”
“Nipple fights? That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Oh, it’s MUCH more than that. You’re going to have to fight her woman to woman, with your entire body. That’s how Leanne is going to challenge you. I know.”
“Well then, what?” I asked, trying to contain my burgeoning sexual arousal.

Delicious Ingrid then moved her full breasts into mine. I thought that my heart was going to explode! My god!!! Her tits felt so amazing as they rolled into mine. Ingrid definitely liked my tits. I could tell by the way she was groaning. As for me, my crotch was wet and quivering.

“Well, the ‘what’ is quite simple. If you’ll allow me, Brandi, I’ll teach you the intricacies of woman to woman fighting.” She offered.

By now I was so sexually turned on that there was no way I could decline her offer. My knees were weak. My body was perspiring. I knew that I was in for the lesson of my life. A lesson that was not included in the standard college curriculum. Ingrid had now drawn me into her full body embrace. I could feel her smooth stomach flatten firmly against mine. And damn! The woman could multi-task! I could feel her breasts slowly taking control of mine. She had also wrapped her long right leg around my left and almost imperceptibly opened up my stance. As she softly breathed, cheek to cheek in my ear, she worked her womanly mound into my heavily forested area and began to slowly grind. I could not believe the sensations I was experiencing! She was using her entire body against my body. Who knew that two hot female bodies could pleasure each other so fully? My body was responding enthusiastically and with complete lack of inhibitions. Suddenly, she stopped and broke completely off from me. She was panting, but something was bothering her.

“Listen, Brandi. Before we continue, there’s something we have to do. It’s absolutely essential.”
“Whatever you say, I’ll do.” I replied, eager to follow orders - eager to learn more - eager to experience new sensations.

Ingrid took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. Once there, she reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of electric clippers - the kind that a man might use to trim his beard. However, the only “beard” in this room was the one that adorned my private parts. I closed my eyes when I heard the snarl of the clippers. In a matter of seconds, my curly tresses were on the floor. I looked down and waved bye-bye to them, wistfully. Next came the shaving cream and a Bic disposable razor. As if the the gentle finger-tipped application of warm, creamy, lather by Ingrid’s skilled hand wasn’t enough, every light stroke of the razor across the contours of my mons veneris was filled with mind-numbing pleasure. The shave was exquisite in it’s pure eroticism! But Ingrid wasn’t finished. She then rinsed me with a warm wash cloth, gently patted me dry and then applied the finishing touch with silky baby lotion over my sweet, bald-as-the-day-she-was-born pussy’s entire surface. Minutes later, we were in bed. It was here that Ingrid demonstrated the reason that my cunt needed to be shaved, cunt to cunt, until the morning sunlight broke in through the bedroom windows…

Dear hot ladies in the readership. Here’s a suggestion. If you have a full bush like I did, and a girlfriend who’s willing, have her come by some night and shave your pussy for you. Even better. If said lady friend also has a hairy twat, the two of you could shave each other. You could have your own private little pussy shaving party! Of course, after the lotion was applied, the two of you could then spend a few hours in a scissor lock so that the two smooth, clean shaven pussies could get to know each other intimately. What wholesome, Christian fun the two of you could have!

And so, that night, my very first college mentor gave me a first hand, very private lesson in the ins and outs and mashes and rubs, licks and sucks and bumps and grinds of college coed sexual competition. For the remainder of the weekend, Ingrid and I were literally inseparable. The body heat and pure lust between us was now completely uninhibited. Over the course of Saturday, Sunday and Monday, it seemed as though our nude bodies were never separated. It seemed as if my tits were locked in an unending war with Ingrid’s colossal tits. It seemed as though our pussies were constantly seeking each other out in order to tangle, lips to lips and clit to clit. We locked up repeatedly. I remember that, at the beginning, I was a complete pushover. However, by Monday morning it was me who had her screaming and writhing and pounding her fists into the mattress as I relentlessly pounded my cunt into hers. I told you, I’m a quick learner.

Now, before you start to wonder about Trinity, I promise that I’ll get to her. No discussion of my illustrious college life would be complete without a discussion of that frustrating (for me) blonde bitch. So, please be patient with me.
Anyway, it turned out that Ingrid was right. The following week, Leanne did indeed come at me.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Angel Dawn]

I love your writing A.Penman! All the little details you add are wonderful. I am really looking forward to the next part!