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Chapter I

Sky annoyed me the first time we met.

She just… annoyed me.

At a co-workers wedding reception at a dining hall on the outskirts of downtown Chicago (a co-workers wedding reception that I really did NOT want to attend) I had escaped to a sheltered veranda that overlooked Lake Michigan in the distance. The view was breathtaking and timeless, and with the band and the conversations muted by distance and closed doors, I had come here to decipher my plan to slip away without being seen.

I had a stomach ache. I had a headache. Something in the food didn’t sit right with me. I had to get up in the morning. My condo was on fire. An old friend was coming in from out of town. Regardless, I didn’t want to be there anymore and I really didn’t want to spend a half hour saying good-byes. I would leave quietly and deal with the fallout another time.

But the view – a fat gray moon shining down on glistening black water – was spectacular. And I stayed to admire it just a little too long.

I work at a legal firm that specializes in hammering people who commit insurance fraud on a major scale. We don’t worry about the little guy who hurts his back and then does yard work while milking a little off the system. We focus on the major players – those who buy turn-over houses for $15,000 and then finagle inspectors, commissioners and builders to write up valued estimates five times that amount. I’m not a very outgoing or forceful person by nature, but I can really work a courtroom to beat down an opponent. Most of the cases I take are settled without ever seeing a courtroom, and that’s a good thing for those I go after.

Yep, I’m that good.

But I have my little taboo interests and my secret little fantasies. We all do, right? In the darkness of my room at night, armed with nothing but my thoughts and my fingers and my toys, I have my weaknesses. But reality shines harshly in daylight, and the shadows keep a lot of secrets.

Boy, do they keep secrets.

So I was standing on that veranda in heels and a black evening gown, one that fell about my form elegantly and turned heads, but without being inappropriate. I would never stand for that. I know I look good – perhaps really good- but a wedding is a day for the bride, not a guest. I thought I looked professional and elegant, yet conservative.

“I hope you weren’t planning on keeping this view all to yourself,” the voice said.

She slid up to the railing next to me and joined my gaze out to the far-off Great Lake. I didn’t look at her directly, but cast a quick glance out of the corner of my eye to at least see who was speaking to me – clearly someone I did not know. She wore black slacks – tight, form-fitting slacks that could have passed for leather at first glance – that accentuated her curves. The slacks were tucked into knee high black leather boots – gestapo style. She wore a beige, sleeveless turtleneck sweater and her skin was almost alabaster white.

And she had pink hair.

Short, almost spiky, pink hair…

When I caught sight of her, of her hair and the way it clashed with her pale skin, she grinned, and the smile was mischievous and intelligent and wonderfully engrossing. I found myself drawn to her at once – at ease. And this was a strange reaction for me because I usually disdained meeting new people and I trusted hardly anyone, especially upon first meeting them.

“Breast cancer,” she said.

“I’m sorry…?” I asked her. Did she just tell me she had breast cancer? Or was she asking me if I did? “You…?”

“My hair,” she said, pointing a finger at herself. “It’s died pink for breast cancer. I’m a kindergarten teacher and the school raised money for breast cancer awareness. My class did a bake sale and I said if we led the school in sold baked goods I’d die my hair pink. We won, so tad da…”

“Oh… it’s quite… it looks good…”

“I’m Sky,” she said.

Although a bit put off at having to engage when I’d come out here to be alone, I didn’t want to be rude.

“I’m Caitlin,” I told her. “Caitlin Drummond.”

The woman’s smile was warm and inviting, strangely engaging almost, as if she were boring into my head. There was a slight squint around her eyes and… I did feel something. It’s hard to explain – hard to decipher with words – but when I did look over at her, when I turned and really looked at her – she was leaning against the railing and studying me so intently I wanted to look away. I felt my cheeks flush with a strange warmth that I did not like nor did I recognize. Or maybe I DID recognize it, and THAT’S why I didn’t like it. Because as I stood there with my hands on the railing, just her and I in the dim light backdrop lighting of the hall, that flush was something I only experienced in my most private moments – when it was only me.

Yet she was burrowing deeper into my head – God, I could feel it – and she was pulling the thoughts to the surface. It was the strangest, most bizarre sensation I’d ever experienced. All I can compare it too is having something inside me, something bursa escort hidden and locked away, pried loose despite my inhibitions.

I tried to look away…

“No, no, no, little one…” She said very softly, very pointedly. “Don’t move. Let me in…” Her eyes were shades of green and blue, and I stared into them, feeling her moving around in my head. My spine tingled and goose bumps raced up and down my skin. It was so inexplicably odd, and terribly intoxicating. I’d had one glass of wine, that’s it, so I knew it wasn’t alcohol. It was her… I sort of wobbled there, my eyes shrinking half closed, and we just stood a few feet apart and staring at each other. Jesus pull back! You’re a lawyer for God’s sakes! This little creepy sex pot is devouring you right now! And I tried to move – I did. I tried to turn away or to speak or laugh or break eye contact, but I couldn’t.

I

Could

Not

Each time I squirmed she held my gaze.

“Just relax, little one,” she said in that strange, sing-song voice. “Let me poke around in there.”

And she did… Jesus, she did. I was able to manage only a sort of lilting smile and a very soft ‘okay’ like it was the most normal thing in the world for a girl half my age to be invading my head. If someone watched us, they would see two – perhaps friends – leaning against a railing and sort of staring at each other, although my eyelids were half closed.

And then I felt her tendrils or whatever they were just sort of slither back out. Pop! And she was out. I leaned against the railing and only now realized I’d been holding my breath.

“I’m not a lesbian,” I blurted out.

But she merely smiled.

“Is that what you think this is about? You being gay…? Or ME being gay…?” She swayed on the heel of a boot while she spoke and the move was strangely erotic. “This isn’t that simple, Megan. This is… a bit more complicated than that. My goal is to make you simple, but… No, I’ve been watching you all night.”

“Y-you have…?” I managed.

“Yes, I have,” she said. “You have a glow about you that screams your submissiveness. One just has to recognize it.”

“I am NOT submissive,” I said, and I was happy to find that my voice was assertive and strong. There you go, girl! “I am anything BUT submissive…”

“You are whatever I say you are,” she said evenly, and my resolve just sort of slammed into a wall as she spoke. I stared at her, in what I hoped was my most stern and forceful courtroom stare. But she stared back. She stared back with eyes that again seemed far more knowledgeable than I thought perhaps they should. She was meeting my challenge, and defeating me.

“Do not try to stare me down,” she said in a very calm, very confident voice. “And don’t play games with me, little one. I’ve seen what’s inside you. I’ve seen what makes those cheeks blush.” I was being scolded and the world was spinning around me. This strange young woman with the pink hair was scolding me like a damn child, and I was doing nothing to stop it.

After a few minutes of her staring at me, and my eyes cast down at her boots, unable to meet that stare, she spoke again.

“Do you know of a little Italian restaurant on Gateway called ‘Le Blache?” I blinked but her words sunk in. I DID recognize the place. I managed a nod. “Talk little one.”

“Yes, I… I know it…”

“Good girl. You will meet me there tomorrow night at 7:00 sharp for dinner. Do not be late. I suspect you will wear a skirt, something modest.”

“B-but I have plans…”

“And you will cancel them, won’t you?”

God, she was digging into me. What the hell was happening? Why didn’t I cuss her out and storm out of there? Slowly I lifted my head – agonizingly slow – until my eyes met hers, and when they did I was just sort of swept away. My stomach swooned like it had the first time I’d kissed a boy when I was twelve years old. My God, butterflies!

“There’s my girl,” she said with that smile. “You will cancel your plans and meet me for dinner, won’t you?”

I opened my mouth to defy her, but nothing came out.

Finally, with all of the courage and self-will I could summon, I managed “I will not… I have plans…” It came out in a strained gasp.

“Caitlin honey, listen to me,” she said evenly. “You will cancel your plans and meet me for dinner.”

I stared at her – hard. I steeled my jaw and grinded my teeth – if she wanted a stare down, I’d give her one! I could feel my nostrils flaring as we fought –as our wills fought! – out here.

She was not fazed.

“Do NOT attempt to stare me down, Caitlin,” she said. “Do not attempt to overpower me or challenge me.”

She said it with such force, such sheer, unbridled confidence, that it sent chills up and down my spine. I swallowed, the first break in the chain, and then I looked down.

“Good girl,” she said softly. “Obedience will be rewarded, sweetheart. Although if you attempt to challenge me again, your punishment will be harsh. Do you understand?”

Very slowly, I nodded.

“So, bursa escort bayan you will cancel your plans for tomorrow and meet me for dinner, yes?”

I could only, half-heartedly, nod: “Yes… Of course…”

“Good – now why don’t you go back inside now? I have friends to speak with.”

But I couldn’t move.

MOVE!

But I couldn’t… Instead I sort of smiled and looked down again. My damn feet were glued to the floor. AHHHH! I wanted to scream but all I did was stand there like an idiot – like a helpless child.

“Caitlin, do you wish to show me something?” She asked.

I tried to shake my head – maybe I did a little. My fingers trembled and my heart raced, raced, raced in my chest. My cheeks were so warm I thought I was now running a fever. I know I had begun to sweat.

“You do, don’t you?” She asked in that tepid, elegant voice.

God, I tried to shake my head! I tried to stammer and stutter a ‘no,’ but I couldn’t. I just stood there – rooted in place.

“You want to show me what’s under that dress, don’t you, dear one?” She said, studying me, enjoying this torment.

No, I don’! I DO NOT!!! A part of my mind screamed and raged against this, but my body resisted. She was somehow infecting my thoughts and I didn’t seem able to turn away. Why didn’t someone come out here to interrupt? Why didn’t someone come to check on me?

“Go ahead, little one,” she said in that silky, smooth voice. “Show me what you have.”

I shook my head, but was blushing furiously. I tried to look back into the hall but couldn’t look away from her – from that perfectly mischievous smile. My fingers trembled and went down my thighs to the hem of my dress and I took hold of it.

“That’s right,” she grinned. “No one’s watching, precious. Show me.”

I looked out towards the distant lake but she pulled me back in. “Look at me, honey…” And I did. Reeled back in like a fish on a line, I lost myself in those eyes and up it came, the hem of my dress, little by little, crimpled along by my trembling fingers.

“That’s right – be my good girl,” she cooed, holding me with those eyes.

I looked down at my hands – hands that were not my own – as they lifted the dress, revealing my thighs, higher and higher, until the black silk of my panties came into view. Higher and higher yet, up, revealing the silk of those panties that covered my trimmed mound, the tiny black thong I’d chosen to wear. She lowered her eyes from mine, apparently convinced I was beyond resisting now, and stared at me down there.

“Oh honey, you look amazing,” she said. “Very, very pretty… Such a precious, precious girl…”

But I was a woman! I was a woman twice her age!

She made a twirling gesture with her finger and I knew she wanted me to turn around, which I did, revealing to her the roundness of my butt (which I knew was my best feature) and the tiny string of the thong where it settled between my cheeks. To my shock and shame, I wiggled my hips at her, and she giggled.

I turned all the way around, still holding my dress up to my hips and staring down at myself.

“You have an amazing body,” she said. “I look forward to exploring it.”

Then she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek – her lips warm and wet.

“Thank you, dear one,” she said. “You can let it back down now. I enjoyed seeing you.” I did so, my dress falling back into place. “Dinner tomorrow night, yes?” I only managed a nod.

Her finger tips brushed my arm as she stepped around me and walked back into the hall, leaving me gasping and panting on the veranda, ashamed and humiliated at what had just happened. But also something more.

I was so turned on, so impossibly turned on, that I couldn’t believe it. My forehead was flushed, not from humiliation, but from an erotic energy so overwhelming I doubted my ability to go back inside. I laughed then, an ‘I can’t believe that just happened’ laugh – that felt damn good. Then I went back inside to find a restroom where I could splash some cold water on my face.

**********

Chapter II

What the heck kind of a name was Sky?

I thought about this – I mean I really thought about it – as I showered and prepped myself for this dinner date. And it was strange, too, that once the decision was made to meet her at seven, there was no backing out. I was on one hand embarrassed by my inability to stick up for myself, but on the other hand wonderfully and strangely excited. After breaking my plans for the night I was overwhelmed with a sense of unnatural calm, as if this was as things were supposed to be. And I was prepping myself like this was the biggest and most eagerly anticipated date of my life.

What was this young woman’s secret? How had she managed to…? My first thought, as I slid into a white satin bra and matching thong, was that I would show up for this dinner and take control of the situation. I don’t know what the hell had happened at the wedding – maybe escort bursa a strange reaction to the wine – but it sure as hell wasn’t happening again. I wore a cute little light green dress/skirt and sandals, My hair was up and pinned into a tail and I thought I looked cute, but conservative – certainly capable of handling this woman half my age.

So I dressed as I did, feeling good about myself and about getting this situation back under control, and I arrived at the restaurant right on time – five minutes to seven.

Sky was already there, seated in a booth in a shadowed and private area of the restaurant. She wore similar black pants and boots as before, but a white, button down blouse. That pink hair shined and reflected the candelight and when I approached the table she smiled comfortably. There was nothing menacing or suspicious about it.

“Hey there,” she said as I slid into the seat opposite her.

For some reason I thought she’d be angry or stern or at least stand offish, but she seemed legitimately happy to see me, which through for a bit of a loop. We ordered a glass of wine (her white, mine red) and spent a few minutes talking about the wedding and about some students in her class whose parents were giving her some problems. When she asked about my job, she seemed interested and engaged with each piece of information I shared. I was caught terribly off guard.

I told myself that in ten seconds I would talk to her about what had happened. Ten became twenty which became thirty… Finally, summoning my resolve, I put my napkin on my plate and looked across the table at her. She noticed my change, and raised her eye brows.

“Yes…?” She asked.

“Sky, I want to talk to you about the other evening,” I said.

“Okay…”

“First off, I don’t understand what got into me the other night at the reception,” I said. “I don’t… I don’t act like that… What I did with my dress, I mean. I’m terribly confused by it and don’t understand. I can only assume the wine didn’t sit well with me or mixed with some aspirin I’d taken earlier. I’ve tried to make sense of it, but…”

“You lifted your dress because you wanted me to see you, Caitlin,” Sky said simply, and her voice carried that even, strong tone again. I blinked as I looked across at her, surprised to find myself flustered again. Jesus, what the hell is happening to me? I blinked, obviously a sudden shock to my system that again bottomed out my stomach. And yet strangely, as she looked across the table at me, I felt a terribly unwanted tingle between my legs. Oh my God, no! This does NOT turn me on! “You behaved in that manner because somewhere deep down inside you in that little dark area you don’t want to admit is there, you wanted to.” She grinned, that cunning look again, and folded her arms on the table top. “I have this magical ability to sort of sneak a glimpse at people’s darkest secrets, Caitlin. And I saw yours.”

“No…” I said softly, shaking my head.

“Yes honey,” she pressed. “I know what it is you really desire. And I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to take you there.”

I kept shaking my head, almost like a child – nonononono.

This only seemed to make her happier. She relished my struggle. I thought of being in court, I thought of my condo, my car, my bills, my friends… I thought of standing up for myself…

“You lifted your dress to show me your body, and I approve of it,” Sky continued, her eyes sparkling. “And you wanted to do that, just like you want to show me your breasts right now.”

“No!” I hissed, but when I did I felt a sharp pain in my temple, like the bursting of a blood vessel. “Please, Sky…”

“Oh stop fighting it, Caitlin,” she said. “It just makes it harder. Although I DO enjoy the struggle.” She inched a bit closed on the table. “Now, do you have something to show me?”

“No no no,” I shook my head, but my body screamed in defiance. But maybe I do! Oh, maybe if I did she’d be happy with me and smile and that would be amazing, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be amazing to make her happy? To just give in and do it? To OBEY…?

“Caitlin, look at me,” she said.

This woman, so much younger than me, devouring me…

Slowly, painstakingly, I lifted my eyes to meet hers.

“I know you’re scared,” she said. “It’s okay… I really had to reach deep inside you to pull this out. It’s what is best for you, Caitlin – I know. Let me turn you on to a world you haven’t even dreamed of.” She smiled, and the kind, gentle smile was back. “So, do you have something you want to show me?”

I swallowed and shrugged and shook my head and looked around and waited…

And then, against every fucking inclination of my being – I nodded very slowly.

“Someone will see,” I whispered.

“It’s fine,” Sky said. “I know the owner and that’s why we’re back here. It’s safe. Go ahead.”

Don’t you do it!!

But I did – my God I did! I certainly struggled with it, but each time I thought of doing what she wanted, of pleasing her and making her happy, my body warmed and relaxed. It was an amazing sensation and totally foreign to me. Suddenly the world around me – MY world – slipped peacefully away. I realized, I guess on some level, that I was trapped in this woman’s strange, hypnotic pull, but I was helpless to fight it.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Four

Samba stood still as the white woman stepped out of her hut. She was very excited; her fingers kept touching the hard thing that encircled her neck. As every Amazon knew, that was a bulawa – and the woman had given her one!

She lay down on her cot and closed her eyes, trying to remember. It had been a long time ago, many years before her grandmother was born. At that time, the Amazons were very powerful; they fought against the neighboring tribes, and sometimes even ate the prisoners. This story had been told to her grandmother by her own grandmother. She had just passed the tests to become a warrior when, one day, bearded men in long white robes had come to the village and offered the Amazons those shining things, which came in many forms: necklaces, rings, bracelets… The men had explained that they were amulets, which could make them still more powerful, and also make them feel more pleasure when playing with each other. They wanted to trade them for prisoners; the warriors had forayed into the nearby villages, brought many captives, and earned a lot of fine bulawas as a reward. “We will return after the great rains”, the men had said.

The tribe had waited eagerly for them, but they never came – he Amazons didn’t know why. The bulawas were indeed powerful, so her grandmother had told; the pleasure they granted their owners was far superior to what any other amulet could provide. But after some time, the metal pieces became rusted and had to be discarded. The memory of how good they had made a person feel, however, had persisted and been handed down to every new generation of Amazons. Ever since, the tribe had waited for the men to appear again.

That was many years ago. The tribes of the area, tired of being humiliated and defeated by the Amazons, had moved away. The warriors had had to make a truce with one of them, because otherwise no men would be left to fertilize them, and the tribe would have disappeared. Having no more reason to battle, their ferociousness had slowly decreased; they still retained good shooting and wrestling skills, but that was all that remained from their former aggressiveness.

No bulawa had been seen ever since – until the women from the town had appeared in the village some weeks before. On their wrists, necks and ears, they wore shining bands that could only be bulawas. There had been a heated discussion: should they ask the women to give them a few, or not? Samba was against the idea, and her argument was finally accepted: they had no prisoners to trade, and in fact, nothing that the foreign women seemed interested in. The visitors could refuse to part with such precious things, and that would be quite humiliating. So, the Amazons were reduced to sniffing, licking and biting those ornaments: who knew, perhaps some of their power could be absorbed through their mouths and noses?

And now, the white woman had brought loads of shining things with her. Samba had tasted one on her foot: no possible doubt – it was a bulawa. The woman certainly belonged to those bearded men’s tribe, or at least was on friendly terms with them; what she had to do, Samba thought, was to persuade her to give her tribe as many bulawas as possible. What would she ask in return? She had not mentioned prisoners, which was good, as her tribe was not in a position to offer any. Could it be possible that she just wanted to be caressed, like she had asked Samba to do? It that was true, then her tribe was very lucky.

The Amazon touched again the band around her neck, remembering how aroused she had been while licking the visitor’s pussy. What a strange thing – a tongue on that place! – But it had to be good, otherwise the woman would not have cummed so strongly. She knew ways to be pleased that the Amazons did not; Samba could learn them and have still more pleasure with her usual mates. Even Valera would give in to her! Valera, the most agile and beautiful virgin in the tribe…

Samba put her thumb on her clit and began to touch herself. She did it quickly; her mind wandered from the shining circlet around the woman’s ankle to her rosy labia and to the upright breasts of the girl she was coveting. She could still feel the wetness on her nose and chin; she kept rubbing until her knees trembled and her belly shook in a welcome orgasm.

Meanwhile, Eva had arrived at her hut. Sheera was there, contemplating the metal things she had left on display. Even as the sun was setting down, the heat of the African plain was lingering over the Amazons’ village.

“Sheera, do you know what a fan is?”

“No, Miss.”

“It is a sort of branch with many leaves on its end, that you wave over a person to make breeze. Can you find one for me, please?”

As she returned with a branch like she had described, Eva showed her how to use it and told her to squat behind her. Sheera waved it with care, thinking of the fine bulawa she would soon earn.

“I will get some sleep, Sheera. Fan me while I rest; when I wake up, I want bursa escort to see you here. Understood?”

The last sight Eva had before she fell into a blissful nap was a pair of coal-black breasts bouncing over her head. Two hours later, as she opened her eyes, Sheera was still there waving the branch and giving her the agreeable sensation of a refreshing breeze. She smiled:

“Good, Sheera! Now let us get ready for the dance. I want you to have a very good time – you deserve it!”

Eva had adorned her fingers with silver rings, and put a shining golden cross to her neck: they were the baits she was going to use to fish some more Amazons into her net.

The tribe had gathered in a circle around a big fire; in a quick glance, Eva calculated that there were about three hundred of them. They had brought shields decorated with geometric motives, and were wearing their finest hides. Torches were being lit, and a strong aroma was wafting from the small fires over which chunks of antelope were roasting.

Eva felt a twitch at her pussy as she saw the reflexes of the flames on the Samba’s collar. The warrior looked superb; she was not as fresh as Sheera or Tonga, but her body was firm, with pronounced curves at the hips, a round bottom and long legs. A bracelet made of leopard teeth graced her right wrist. She raised a hand, and a sudden silence fell over the village.

“Saravah, Amazons! Tonight we have a feast in honor of our guest. I have been told that she will live with us for some time; we will do our best to make her stay agreeable. Now we will dance for her, and eat and drink. Drummers, you may start!”

Eva watched awestruck as the women began to stomp their feet to the beat of the drums; soon the whole circle was moving clockwise, the shields going up and down in an intricate choreography. She let her eyes wander on the circle as hips swayed, hands clapped, breasts bounced – the Amazons were getting excited with the rhythmic movements. Hands went up and down again; arms were now close to body, now stretched up in precise gestures. She gazed at the flat bellies sticking out and in again, at the legs and feet moving in precise rhythm, at the skins gleaming with palm oil, at the neat squares of hair on top of their heads. Eva had of course brought her cameras and was shooting every detail of the ceremony.

The dance went on for about half an hour, until the women felt tired. Samba stopped and got out form the circle; a tall girl approached her and rubbed her nose on her shoulder. The leader lifted her chin to show the collar, took the girl’s hand and walked with her into the bushes.
Eva was feeling hungry; she looked around and saw that Tonga was also rubbing her nose on Sheera: it was obvious that the gesture meant an invitation to make love.

“Time for a small test”, she decided. She whistled for them. Tonga whispered something into the other girl’s ear; both rushed to where the photographer was and knelt down.

“Tonga, please get me some food.”

The young Amazon sprang to her feet and in no time came back with a cut of antelope; kneeling again, she stretched her arms and said:

“Miss, Tonga has brought your food!”

Eva patted her head. “Good, Tonga! I see you can remember what Miss taught you. Now, Sheera, please bring me something to drink.”

The girl dashed away, returned with a bowl of palm wine and offered it to Eva as Tonga had done. The photographer told them to stay on their knees while she enjoyed her first African meal; that attracted the attention of some other girls, who came to inquire why they were in that unusual position. Their faces showed all their interest in Eva’s metallic ornaments.

“I have chosen Sheera and Tonga as my first aides here”, Eva said. “You are all very beautiful; if you help me like these two are doing, I might give you the same gifts I promised them.”

And she walked away, letting Sheera and Tonga tell their sisters what those gifts were. She wanted to have a good look at the other Amazons; she had some definite ideas in her mind, and wanted to check if they could be put in practice.

Eva strolled slowly, watching the females eat and drink, looking for two strong ones. She had seen once, in a film, two Negroes carrying their master on a hammock fastened to a rod; the ends of the rod were on their shoulders, and the man looked quite comfortable in this means of transport. There were no hammocks around the village, but perhaps she could persuade two stout Negresses to build her a sort of litter and carry her around.

The palm wine was beginning to show its effects on the Amazons; some couples were already going on the ground and kissing. Eva smiled as she saw a couple rolling together; “they are not shy”, she thought. A girl stretched her hand to touch her belt buckle; Eva took her hand and stroked her wrist along the bone lines.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes! Are you giving the bulawa to Matomba?”

“Is this what you call escort bursa these?” she asked.

“Yes! You gave one to Samba; are you going to give one to Matomba too?”

“Maybe… if you help me like Samba did.”

“What has she done?”

Eva was going to reply when she caught sight of a Negress sitting beside Matomba; she was giving her breast to a small girl. Eva felt an urge to grab her other breast and suck it, but she controlled herself.

“What is your name, pretty Amazon?”

“I am called Taranga. What is yours?”

“They call me Miss”, said Eva, caressing the young mother’s head. She went on:

“Your other breast seems swollen. Hasn’t your daughter taken it?”

“No. I will have to find another baby, or empty it myself.” As expected, her eyes were stuck on Eva’s anklet.

“I could do it for you, if you want.”

“Would you? Oh, that would be fine!” Taranga cupped her breast and offered it to Eva. Leaning down, the photographer teased the nipple and wrapped her lips around it. The milk tasted warm and sweet; Eva sucked it until the last drop.

“Thanks, Taranga! I could drink this every day! And you look beautiful, too”, she said. Making a mental note to tell Sheera to bring her next morning to the hut, Eva rose up and continued to stroll, greeting here and there a particularly well shaped Amazon, and looking for muscled ones. Her eyes sparkled as she spotted a pair of twins squatting and munching on their chunks of antelope.

“Best specimens thus far”, she thought as she stopped by them and inquired about their names.

“I am Munga, and my sister is Sunga.”

“I am Miss. You two would look lovely with one of my necklaces on!”

“Like Samba’s?” Sunga’s voice sounded eager. “Why have you given her a bulawa?”

“Because she is the leader of your tribe, and has been kind enough to help me when I asked her to. I could give you one, too, if you prove equally helpful. But we will talk about that tomorrow. Now I must rest for the night; this day has been very long, and I feel tired”, she said, stroking Sunga’s salient biceps. “These two would do finely”, she thought. “Let’s see how they react when I tell them what I want.”

The feast was still on, but less and less women were around; most had retreated into the bushes, and Eva could hear moans of pleasure as they gave free rein to their wild instincts. She was sure that Sheera and Tonga wanted to hang with the girls of their age, but she had other plans. She called the two girls and was escorted to her hut.

“I have had such a wonderful night! Please, help me to undress.” Sheera took off Eva’s sandals and unbuttoned her skirt, while Tonga worked on her blouse.

“Miss, everybody is talking about the gift you gave to Samba!”

“The bulawa? What are they saying?”

Sheera was surprised to see that the woman knew that word.

“They all want one! They are powerful amulets, you know.”

Eva held her breath. Then, that was the reason why those savages set such great store by the metallic ornaments! She said in a non-committed tone:

“Ah, are they? What do they do for the person who owns one?”

Sheera looked up at her, a worried expression on her face. How much, exactly, did the visitor know about bulawas? But Tonga was already speaking:

“They make one feel very good when she is with another girl. Don’t you know that?”

“Oh yes, I was just making sure that you know”, Eva replied astutely. “Did you tell your sisters how they can earn one?”

“Yes, I said that you will give bulawas to the girls who help you.” She caressed Eva’s earring: “You will, won’t you, Miss?”

“Good girls will earn them, no doubt! Bad ones will be left without any”, Eva snapped, and turned to Sheera.

“Sheera, you know Taranga, don’t you? Tomorrow morning, as you wake up, go and bring her here. I loved her milk, and promised to help her with it.” She had an idea: “Now, my girls, come here and do to me as I did for her.”

Both stood up and put Eva’s nipples in their mouths; no milk poured, of course, but the photographer felt excited at having them nibbled. She held their heads and smiled, her pussy almost gushing as the Nubians sucked on her firm breasts.

“Use you fingers down here, my dears…”

The two fingers that slid into her hut made her jolt. The girls were clearly used to do that; they increased the speed little by little, rubbing the walls while sucking on her nipples. Eva put her arms around their shoulders and pressed their bodies against hers. She was not sure whether that was the third or the fourth orgasm of the day, but it didn’t matter – she was feeling so good! She held back her climax as much as she could; when she cummed at last, she had her eyes closed, her womb shivering from pleasure as she caressed the girls’ necks.

She took their hands off her breasts and said:

“Lick your finger, my dears: so you will sleep with Miss’s taste in your mouths. This is a powerful bursa escort bayan nutrient I am giving you; you will feel stronger tomorrow. But be careful!” she went on. “Even if you feel the urge, don’t touch yourselves until the sun sets down tomorrow, or the effect will be reversed: you will feel weaker instead of stronger, do you understand?”

The girls nodded earnestly, licking the last drops from their fingers.

Eva lay down and said:

“Sheera, come here; put you head near my breasts. And Tonga, come behind me, I want to feel your pussy on my hips.” She closed her eyes, caressing Sheera’s neck and feeling the balmy African night wrap her and her girls.

Sheera was feeling aroused after having sucked Eva’s nipple and licked that cream from her finger; she burned to touch herself, or to go to Tonga and ask her to play, as they had done some times. But she wanted badly a bulawa; she had just witnessed, with her own eyes, what it could make one feel. She crossed her hands behind her head: better to avoid any temptation – she didn’t want to be weaker the next day!

The girl kept repeating to herself: “two things: not touch, and bring Taranga, not touch, bring Taranga…” “And soon she was asleep. Eva and Tonga had already sunk in a blissful sleep; the hut went silent, and so it remained until the first sunrays entered it a few hours later.

Five

A new day was beginning. Sheera stood up quietly: she did not want to wake up Miss. As she went out of the hut, the sky was rosy in the east; she washed her face and went to see Taranga, who was still asleep. Sheera touched her leg and said:

“Taranga! Wake up, Miss has sent for you!”

The Nubian opened her eyes:

“Huh?”

“Come, quick! Miss wants you at her hut!”

Taranga sat up and stretched her arms, feeling her breasts heavy. She glanced at the baby sleeping on a side of her cot, tied up her hide and followed Sheera.

Eva smiled as they entered the hut; she had asked Tonga to fetch water for her morning ablutions.

“I brought her as you have asked, Miss”, said Sheera, kneeling down and parting her knees. Eva motioned the other girl closer:

“Beautiful Taranga, you milk was so sweet last evening that I could not get the taste out of my mouth. May I have it this morning?”

“Yes”, said the young woman.

Sheera whispered:

“Say yes, Miss!”

Taranga corrected herself:

“Yes, Miss!”

Eva smiled.

“Sheera, did you see the stone Samba has in her hut, that smaller one? I want you to get two or three the same size, to serve as stools. It is not comfortable to sit always on this cot.” She turned to Taranga:

“Come here, dear, and give Miss her breakfast.”

Taranga nodded; she was proud to see how much the lady liked her milk. She knelt by Eva, cupping her right breast; a drop escaped from the nipple. Eva leaned forward and began to suckle; she drained it in long gulps, pressing the nipple with her tongue while the liquid gushed into her avid mouth.

Reaching out under the girl’s pelt, Eva touched her clit. Since giving birth, Taranga had not been with any girl; she was eager for a caress, so she opened a bit more her legs.

“She will associate having pleasure with feeding me”, Eva thought as she moved faster on the soaked clit. The girl was beginning to contract for an orgasm; she decided to let her have it. She fingered that clit in the most expert way she knew, and in two minutes Taranga was shaking her body and having a most welcome climax.

Eva rose up; Sheera was still kneeling, waiting for her pussy to be touched. Eva went to her sack and pulled out a plastic bag, from which she chose a small ring.

“Taranga, I want to thank you for being so kind”, she said, waving the ring in front of her eyes. She smiled as the expected effect appeared once more: the Nubian’s eyes were following her movements, as if she was being hypnotized.

“I had thought to give you something to adorn your nipples, but they could come in the way of your baby’s feeding. So I decided to offer you this very special bulawa: a ring that to be worn on your pussy, so that you feel a lot of pleasure when it is touched. Do you want it, sweet Taranga?”

The girl was so ecstatic that she could not speak.

“What do you say, Taranga? Yes or no?”

“Yes… yes, Miss!”

“That may cause a little pain, but you will look splendid with it on. Sheera, fetch me that sack!”

Sheera did as she was told. Eva got some cotton pads and dipped them in alcohol; ordering Taranga to lie back on her cot, she told Sheera to hold one of her ankles. At that very moment, Tonga came into the hut with a bucket of fresh water; Eva told her to grip the girl’s second ankle and lifted her skirt, exposing one of the finest pair of labia she had ever seen.

The photographer took a piercing tool from the bag and cleaned with a cotton pad the spot where she would mark the Amazon’s cunt. It was the upper part of the labia, so that the ring would not hamper her being penetrated when she mated again. She pressed the instrument on the left labium; Taranga uttered a muffed sound and tried to close her legs, but Sheera and Tonga held her ankles firmly apart.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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“I don’t usually strike up conversations with strange women in the neighborhood saloon, but there’s a dress code here at the Silver Dollar, and I couldn’t help noticing that you aren’t wearing a bra.”

“Hey; I’m not strange, I’m Beth. And, you’re fresh!”

“No, I’m Joe. Joy Coyne. And, I was just admiring the cleavage exposed by that serendipitiously unfastened top button. Such a tantilizing temptation, to slide down those glorious slopes, and disappear for an eternity into that deep, dark crevasse.”

“Blarney.”

“Shows, eh? With the red hair and a name like Coyne, you couldn’t tell? Anyhow, I apologize for being so forward. I’m really not like that.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet!”

“I noticed you’ve been watching the door for the last ten minutes. Waiting for someone?”

“My friend, Annie, was supposed to meet me here after work. She was going to introduce me to a guy.”

“Annie Vogel?”

“You know her?”

“She drops by; two, three times a week, with her new boyfriend. Lovely gal. Pert, pretty, petite. Quick wit and a saucy retort for frisky customers. Why don’t you give her a call?”

“I don’t have her home number.”

“I do, upstairs.”

“Up-?”

“My office-slash-apartment. I own the Silver Dollar. Annie used to work here, when she was in college. Paid her tuition with tips. And earned it with her mind, not her other less evident, but equally outstanding talents. There I go again, telling tales out of school. Come along, then; bring your beer with.”

“This is nice! You have a great view of the bay. I love the bridge, all lit up at night.”

“Phone’s on the desk, over there. Annie’s in the Roladex.”

“Dum de-dum dum; doo doo. Ring ring ring. Annie, Annie, Annie. Come, on, Gal; pick up. No answer. Dang! And I don’t have her cell number.”

“You smoke?”

“Cigarettes, or-“

“Or.”

“Sometimes. But, I really should get back downstairs, in case Annie shows up.”

“I’ll call down to the bartender, tell him to give us a shout if she shows.”

“Well, I guess. Boy, you rolled that doobie like a pro. You, uh, deal a little weed, too?”

“Why? You a customer? Or a cop?”

“Maybe. . .”

“You wearing a wire?”

“I guess you better check, before lighting that J.”

“I like taking risks. Here; first hit is yours.”

“Man! That’s good stuff!”

“A connoisseur. Or, a cop. Maybe I’d better check for that wire, after all.”

“Maybe you’d better.”

“These buttons are tiny. And I’m such a fumble fingers.”

“You’re doing O.K. Give me another toke.”

“Well, I don’t see a wire. I think I should take your blouse off, just to be sure. Don’t want to wind up in handcuffs.”

“No? That can be fun, you know. . .”

“Wow. You have the most spectacular breasts I’ve ever seen!”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’ve posed, for a few art photographers. I like to hold them, cup my hands under them, this way, feel the weight. And doing this can trip my trigger; I wet my fingers in my mouth, lightly circle my nipples, just barely touch them.”

“I bet it would feel even better, if someone else did that for you.”

“Let’s find out.”

“Well, it feels awfully good on this end. Your nipples are getting hard!”

“Uhm hmm. And, I think maybe there is a wire, after all. ‘cause I’m getting an electric shock that’s nowhere near your hands!”

“I think I should check. OH! Pierced navel. An exhibitionist, eh? I could chip a tooth on that arrow. Boy, your jeans are tight! Suck your tummy in, Beth. There; got the button popped. Now, the zipper. Zip, zip, zip. Ever notice that the name is it’s sound? Zzzzzzip.”

“Zip, Zippy Zippy, zip-zip. I’m getting stoned!”

“Join the club. Lean on my shoulder, lift your leg, so I can get- OOPS! Your breast jumped into my mouth! Trying to distract me. Successfully, too. Lift your other leg. Yeah. Wow; a red thong. I guess I’d better peel it off. Can’t be too careful, looking for wires.”

“Nope. Nuh uh. Gotta be careful. Better safe than sorry.”

“Just let me kneel down, feel around the back. . .Oh, what lovely buttocks. As soft and full as your breasts. I think I need to take a quick check, up front here, between your legs. Oh, you shave! That’s so görükle escort sexy, everything out in the open, on display. You like that, don’t you? Going braless.”

“Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. I’m twenty three, young and tight and firm. Too soon, I’ll be all flab and cellulite.”

“Let me just put my fingers in here; these modern electronics are pretty small. My tongue is very sensitive, I better use it to search. Oh, oh, there’s something! Kind of hard.”

“Yeah, it is! And, I think it’s transmitting some kind of electric signal, ‘cause I’m definitely getting a message!”

“Hey! You’re hurting my ears!”

“Sorry. It’s your own fault, starting that fire with your tongue. Good thing I’ve got all this wetness, to put it out. I need to sit down, now. Hey, no fair! You still have all your clothes on.”

“I can fix that.”

“Ooh, nice six pack abs.”

“I have one of those gym machines, in the bedroom.”

“We’ll have to check that out. Later. Let me help you with those pants. Oh, silk briefs! You got a grapefruit in there?”

“Why don’t you kneel down, find out for yourself?”

“Wow! What a monster. Only he’s shy, won’t look at me. He just stares at the floor. What’s the matter, Mister Dickie, don’t you like Beth?”

“Maybe if you gave him a kiss. . .”

“That seems to be working. God! I can’t even get my hand around it! How big does this thing get?”

“Beats me. I never measured it. Want a ruler?”

“What I want, is to see how much of it I can get in my mouth.”

“Looks like about half, to me. Sure does feel nice. Wet and warm. I love the way your lips look, big and pouty, as they slide down the shaft. Rake me with your teeth, Beth, just a tiny bit.”

“Like that?”

“Yes! Like that. I really, REALLY like that! Only, you’d better stop, unless you want a surprise.”

“I love surprises! And, I bet I can get more than half in my mouth.”

“Ah, Beth! I’m gonna come. RIGHT N-N-NOW! Yeah, keep jerking it; oh, baby, more more more, that’s it. Oh, stand up, kiss me, I want to taste myself.”

“Mmmmm. That’s sexy; all sticky and slippery. Rub it on my breasts. Oh, that feels sooo good.”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, have some real sex. I mean, oral is fun, it’s great; but more of a preamble than the main event. Plus, I’ll last a lot longer, the second time.”

“Well, I hope so! That was a ten second explosion.”

“Sorry. It’s been a couple of months since I got laid.”

“Me too. I went with a guy for about a year, but I could see it wasn’t meant to be, so I broke it off. You probably think I’m such a whore, letting you get into my pants, ten minutes after we met.”

“No, not at all. Sometimes there’s an attraction. Like ZAP! You know; the way two magnets snap together.”

“Unless their poles are reversed, and they can’t get near each other. Oh, what a big bed. And satin sheets. You devil!”

“Come here, kiss me. Mmm, that’s nice. I love the way your lips feel. You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Lie on your side. God, but you are a beautiful woman, Beth. I could look at you forever.”

“Fine; only touch, too. Yeah, down there. Oooh, I’m wet again. And you’re getting hard!”

“I’m going to slowly kiss my way down, starting here, with your neck. And your breasts. I want to suck your nipples, make them hard. Oh, boy; they get rosy red when you are turned on, you know that? Of course you do! And now your belly. You have such erotic skin; smooth, flawless. I love the tan lines. You wear a bikini, don’t you?”

“Yes and no. Some times, nothing. When I go up on the roof.”

“Do guys watch?”

“Uh huh. From an office building. I catch the sun, glinting off binoculars!”

“Slut!”

“Bad girl!”

“You taste awfully good, for a bad girl.”

“Mmmm. You have such a talented tongue. Only, I want to fuck now. I want that big, stiff cock up my cunt! I hope that doesn’t bother you. Dirty talk.”

“No. It’s a turn on. But it’s not dirty. It’s sexy, it’s horny. I had a girl friend, a long time ago, who was a screamer. Had to be very careful when and were we did it. Made the mistake of doing it up here once, during Happy Hour. Talk about embarrassing!”

“Sorry for the laughter; I’m just picturing eskort bayan the whole scene! Hey, stop that, I’ll come again.”

“I thought that was the idea.”

“I told you, I need to get fucked! Get up here, lie on your back. I want to get on top, ease that thing up into me. Man, you’re harder than before! Let me throw a leg over.”

“You want me to put it in?”

“No, I wanna do it all. You just lie there, like a piece of rental meat. I’m going to fuck myself. You like playing with my tits, don’t you? Go ahead, tease my nipples. You can’t see what I’m doing, can you?”

“Nope, just your lovely face, your silky chestnut hair, falling on your shoulders, your big breasts. I like the way they sway, when you move. What are you doing, down there?”

“I’m rubbing your cock head on my cunt, getting it all lubed. You’re big, and I’m tight. It’s gonna be a job of work!”

“I don’t think so. Feels like it’s already in.”

“Yeah, but just the head. O.K., now I’m gonna slowly sit down on it. Oh, God! I’m getting stuffed. I need to rise up, get it slicker. There! All the way in! Oh, man oh man! If I rock back and forth, it presses against my clit. Squeeze my tits, Joe, squeeze my tits! Oh, Joe, Joe, I’m falling down the mountain! Hug me tight! Kiss me, kiss me. Deep, deep! Mmm, yeah.”

“Hold on, Beth. Now I want to thrust, withdraw, thrust, shove it way, way, up your cunt. Wow; you’re so tight. I was wrong, I’m not going to last very long this second time. Oh, here it comes; ah ah ah, oh Beth, baby. What are you DOING, inside? You have muscles that I never knew existed.”

“You like my trick, Joe?”

“My little milk maid!”

“God, I feel so stupid, crying like this. Hold me, hold me, hold me.”

“Did we fall asleep?”

“Huh? Jeez, I guess we did. For a while, anyway.”

“Let’s get a shower. I don’t like this dried semen on me.”

“O.K.Sure smells sexy, though.”

“Soap my back, Joe. Hey! I said back, not ass.”

“Your ass is part of your back.”

“So are my heels, but I don’t see you paying much attention to them.”

“Touche. I love the slippery feeling of your wet, soapy body. I have this fantasy of pouring about a quart of warm baby oil all over both of us, and. . .”

“And it would be an awful mess to clean up. Not to mention that it would taste terrible!”

“Hey, I said it was a fantasy!”

“A pound of melted butter would be much better.”

“I don’t have a pound of butter.”

“Put it on the shopping list.”

“I’m starting to prune. Let’s get out, dry off. You hungry?”

“Uh hum. Can I have a second helping of cock?”

“Slut! I meant food. You like Chinese?”

“Well, of course. Can we get delivery?”

“Golden Dragon, across the street. The food will be here before we get dressed.”

“Then, why bother?”

“Throw on this robe. I’ll call. Anything in particular you hungry for? Besides that! And, it’s impolite to point.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you sure did a lot of pointing, about half an hour ago.”

“Har har.”

“Can we eat it in bed?”

“And you thought baby oil would make a mess! Oh, hell, why not; the sheets are going to have to be changed, anyway.”

“Let’s try the chopsticks. Here, I’ll feed you a shrimp. Oops! Sorry.”

“Ow! That’s hot! Lick it off, bitch.”

“Yes, master. Now you have to eat these noodles, off my tits.”

“What are you doing with that plum sauce?”

“Basting your dick. It looks about done; all shiny. Pour me some more tea.”

“Wow, that’s a whole new definition of hot sex! Take another mouthful of tea, Beth; that feels sensational. You just come up with that, or is it part of your repertoire?”

“New, but a variation. My boyfriend and I use to kiss and drink coffee. This is waaaay better!”

“Climb on me, I want to eat you, too.”

“You know what the square root of sixty-nine is?”

“No, not without a calc-“

“Ate something!”

“Exactly what I plan to do. Mmm, your breasts feel good, brushing against my stomach. You’re really enjoying that plum sauce, aren’t you?”

“Ho ho. Is that your tongue, or are you trying to stick a shrimp up my pussy?”

“Is it all right, me touching your ass with my fingers? altıparmak escort Some women don’t like that.”

“No it feels. . .good. Strange, but good. I never had anyone do that.”

“No? The anus has the same nerve endings as the lips, did you know that?”

“You’re kidding! Maybe that’s why your fingers feel so nice. You ever, you know. . .do it there?”

“No. Thought about it, but; no, never tried.”

“You want to?”

“You mean now, with you?”

“No, you dope! I meant next week, with your brother in law.”

“I don’t have a brother in law.”

“S.O.L. I guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

“O.K. We’ll need a better lubricant than plum sauce, though. You think olive oil will work?”

“You don’t have any sex stuff? KY, Astroglide? A dick big as yours, I’d think you would have some on hand.”

“Sorry. I have lubricated condoms. Which I think we should probably use. I’m not so sure this is a good idea, us both being anal virgins.”

“We can always send out for a coach. I bet you got a few downstairs, could talk us through it.”

“Never mind! Kneel on the edge of the bed, raise your butt up.”

“Ooh, that’s cold!”

“Sorry. I can put the bottle in a bowl of hot water.”

“No, I’m fine. I hope that’s Extra Virgin olive oil! Oh, yeah, that feels lovely, whatever you’re doing.”

“That’s my tongue. And this is my finger. Uhmm, tastes good, although I think it needs a little balsamic vinegar. . .”

“Put your finger in.”

“First, I want to try to get my tongue in. It’s softer, won’t hurt as much.”

“It doesn’t hurt at all. How did you manage to get your tongue past the muscle?”

“Olive oil and perseverance. Plus, you seem to be relaxing.”

“I am; because I’m really liking this. Trying new stuff is a turn on. Use your fingers, Joe. Open me up. Stretch me. Make me ready for your cock.”

“O.K. Let me know if it hurts. I’m sliding my thumbs in, about an inch. Now I’m spreading them apart.”

“Joe? Put your cock in my cunt, while you’re doing that to my ass, with your thumbs. I need you inside me, right now.”

“O,K., you say so. Only you’ll have to put me in; my hands are tied up at the moment.”

“More handcuff jokes? You’re sick!”

“Ohh, that feels good! Can I thrust, or you you just want me in there?”

“I want you up my ass, Joe! I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Oil up your cock and slide it in!”

“You’re sure? You still feel pretty tight.”

“Do it, damn you!”

“Here’s goes, ahh, shoot. I can’t get it in.”

“Let me do it; I’ll reach back between my legs . . . There! I’ve got it right at the entrance. Now, PUSH!”

“Oh, yeah, Beth, it’s in; just the head. God, it’s so tight.”

“Move, move; in and out. I want to feel it move. Yes, that’s good. Oh, I gotta play with my clit.”

“Man, it looks so sexy, my dick going into your ass, all shiny with the oil. I don’t know how long I can last.”

“Think of Queen Victoria. Smokey the Bear. How far is it in?”

“Uh, about half way.”

“More. Give me more! I want to feel your balls against my cunt!”

“There. That’s all I got. How does it feel?”

“Packed. Stings, a little bit. Now, fuck me, Joe. Hard and fast; I’m about to come, and I need you to blast me.”

“All the way out, all the way in, all the way out, all the way-“

“AH AH! Hooooooo!”

“INNNNNN! Oh, Lord, I never thought I could come like that. I gotta fall on you, I can’t stand up. Baby, are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

“No no no no no. Can you keep it in me, if I roll over? I want to look at you, see your face, I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want I want I want. . .”

“I want to kiss away your tears. What the hell is that noise?”

“Shit! my cell phone. I bet it’s Annie. Get my bag, Joe? I don’t think I can walk, right now.”

“Here you are. I’m going to go wash my dick; be right back.”

“Hello? Annie? What the hell happened to you? No, it’s all right, we can do it tomorrow. Yeah. What’s this guy’s name? Uh huh. See you, Annie.”

“What’s that all about?”

“Annie had to work late, and my cell number is in her other purse, at home. What a screw up.”

“What’s that I heard about a guy?”

“Yeah, the one she wanted to introduce me to, tonight. She says she thought we’d hit it off. I dunno. Some dude named Joe Coyne. . .”

“Come here, you! Snuggle, snuggle, snuggle.”

“Joe? Can I spend the rest of the night?”

“Beth, you can spend the rest of the century.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Thanks to everyone who has read and to those who sent feedback. And thank you, Rainey, once more—you saved me!

*****

Wrong Ch. 06: Resolutions

I spotted Chloe immediately when I walked in. She sat nestled in the corner, staring out the window. I could tell she knew I was there by how she tightened up, but she didn’t acknowledge me. She looked awful; I could tell she hadn’t slept.

I made my way over carefully, almost like she had somehow put grenades underneath the chipped tiles of the coffee shop. If I did manage to stumble on one, I certainly deserved it.

When I made it over safely, I dropped into the seat across from her. A waitress came over and I ordered a coffee, trying to keep my voice quiet. I don’t know why. Maybe I felt like if I didn’t disturb her too much with my presence she wouldn’t yell at me. We wouldn’t have to deal with this. It was silly, like a little girl’s fantasy.

Chloe finally shifted and reached for the steaming cup in front of her. The waitress brought my own a few seconds later. Then we were alone.

After a few long and tortuous minutes, she looked up at me. “How long?”

The question startled me. Of course it was perhaps the most reasonable one to start off with, but I was surprised. It dawned on me she thought maybe we had begun when they were still married and I was horrified.

“About two weeks,” I whispered.

She put more sugar into her coffee and stirred. The sound of the spoon against the mug seemed so loud.

“I guess I figured out who he was fucking, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She smiled without humor. “You know, I really hate it when people say that. What you mean is I didn’t mean for you to find out. Of course you knew it would hurt me, otherwise you wouldn’t have snuck around.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I just keep wondering how you could be so stupid. You saw what happened with me.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked me over. “Do you really think you’ll be any different? What the hell do you guys do together, besides sex? He’ll grow bored of you, if he isn’t bored already.”

She looked at me with hate and a splash of pity. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

I tried to pick up my cup but my hand was shaking. “I can’t explain it, but Patrick and I really enjoy each other. I know that’s messed up and I know it must hurt you but I can’t help how I feel. I don’t know what to do. I… I love him.”

Chloe’s blue eyes sparkled with perverse amusement. “Yes, I’m sure you do. I bet you even think he loves you, too.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I heard him say it to you, of course, but Patrick isn’t really known for his honesty. Plus, he was inside of you. A guy will say anything when he’s fucking some slut.”

The words were large knives that Chloe slowly and expertly stabbed inside of me. No one can hurt you quite like a sister can. They know the buttons to press, the insecurities you have, the best weapons to use against you. They understand the sizzling burn of a single word.

I was unsure of what to say or do. I couldn’t tell her she was wrong; even I wasn’t exactly sure where Patrick and I stood, in spite of everything we’d said and done together. I wanted to defend myself and my burgeoning relationship, but it felt wrong to shout the words at Chloe. She was the injured party here, not me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am. Everything falls short,” was the best I could come up with.

I had envisioned all sorts of great and convincing things to tell Chloe. I thought our relationship would recover somehow. Now, sitting across from her with nothing but coffee between us, I wasn’t sure.

“I wish I could feel sorry for you,” Chloe bit out. She started to cry. “You’re going to have a rude awakening sometime soon, Nina. And you won’t have your family to fall back on. You’ll have no one. You’ll be totally alone.” She grabbed her bag and stood up.

She threw a couple of dollar bills on the table and gazed down at me for a moment. I looked up at her, forcing myself to meet her glare, and studied her face. It was the face of the sister who waited for me at the bus stop every morning and afternoon. She was the sister who kicked Tommy Parker in the balls for calling me ugly in the 7th grade. She was the sister I shared so many laughs with over the years, who let me borrow her favorite dresses, who understood me for all the times crappy boyfriends and screwy friends didn’t.

“Was it worth it?” she asked quietly.

Then she spun on her heel and disappeared out the door. At a loss, I sipped my coffee. It had gone cold.

****************************************************************************************

When I got back to my apartment, I felt my cell vibrate. The display said Mom.

I didn’t want to answer it. I was depressed, alone and terrified. I just knew this time Chloe had told her, that my secret was fully escort bayan bursa out. I didn’t know how she would react. Mom and Dad both disliked Patrick. Mom told me once he gave her the creeps; he was “scheming” and “calculating”. Yes, he was definitely all those things, but he never had the chance to show her the good parts of him. The wonderful parts that shocked me every time he let me see them, no matter how familiar they’d become.

“Hi, Mom.”

I heard her take a deep breath. “Nina. Your sister was just here. What the hell is going on?”

“I’ve been…” The words got trapped in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “I’ve been seeing Patrick. It’s been going on for two weeks or so. I didn’t know how to tell her, and she found out before I could.” My voice was flat, devoid of feeling.

“Jesus,” Mom whispered. “I thought you hated him.”

“Me too.”

“Chloe is so upset.” Mom made a sound of disapproval. “Did you have to go after her ex-husband?” My father said something in the background that was thankfully muffled.

“I didn’t plan to, Mom. It just happened.”

She sighed. “Nothing just happens.” She said something to my dad and then came back to me. “Honestly, what the hell am I supposed to do? How could you put me in this situation? I’m in the middle of my two children.” She was silent for a minute. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then she groaned. “And how could you put yourself in this kind of situation? He’s not a good guy, Nina. You can’t possibly think this is going to work. He’s screwing around, trying to hurt you both. Can’t you see that? Not to mention, I think your relationship with your sister is going to suffer for a long time. Her face… God, I can’t get over it. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, how are you going to fix it?”

Someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw Patrick standing on the other side, holding a take-out bag and looking tired.

“What do you suggest I do?” I let Patrick in and gave him a small smile.

He scanned me up and down, almost like he expected me to be covered in bruises.

“Well, for one thing, you have to get rid of Patrick. Don’t you think that’s obvious? I don’t know what you were thinking about. That man is trouble on many levels. I don’t like him and I don’t want him around you, not to mention what it’s doing to your sister.”

Patrick’s gaze lingered on my face and his features scrunched together in concern. He put his palm on my cheek. For the first time in my life, in spite of everything, I felt completely cared for by someone. Adored. Loved.

“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you when we’ve all calmed down a bit.”

“Don’t you dare hang up! Nina!”

I pressed “end”. It didn’t feel good, but nothing would at that moment. Patrick took another long look at me and whatever was in my face made him wrap his arms around me. For the millionth time since this all began, I couldn’t believe I was seeking comfort from someone who was once my arch-nemesis.

“I love you, you know,” he said a few minutes later. He kissed my hair and stepped back, meeting my eyes.

“I know.” And I did.

What I didn’t know was if it would always be enough.

He smiled and got us two plates, putting food on them. He brought them out to the living room and I followed, watching as he put on a game show. We sat there together, not really paying attention to the TV or even to the delicious food in front of us.

I thought for a long time in that darkened living room, my shoulder against Patrick’s. I loved Patrick and he loved me. Maybe it wouldn’t always be rainbows and unicorns and pixie dust. In fact, it wasn’t even that now. The point was you never really know if loving one another is always going to be enough. It was enough right then, in that moment, laughing with our mouths full at someone’s stupid answer.

Yes, I decided, kissing his eyebrow. It was enough right now. That’s all that mattered.

********************************************************************************************

A week later I was organizing my messy apartment. At the back of my closet, I found a pair of sexy heels Chloe bought me for my last birthday. I hadn’t ever worn them; I never really had an occasion. I slipped them on while cleaning, feeling a bit more glamorous. And a little sad.

We still hadn’t spoken. I didn’t know what to do. Since our last meeting went so poorly, it didn’t make sense to ask her to meet with me again. An e-mail felt insufficient. I rambled whenever I left her voicemails, hardly getting to the point. Text messages were totally out of the question.

I called her every now and then, leaving her a trivial voicemail about how I ran into someone we used to go to school with, or about a sale going on at her favorite store. I wanted to show her how much I missed her, how important she was to me. I hoped to remind her bursa sinirsiz eskort the same about me, but who knew if that was true anymore.

My mom sent me an e-mail, telling me she missed me and she didn’t want to be involved in the fight with Chloe. She said she was disappointed in my actions and that it was going to take a long time for her and Dad to get over it. She suggested it would be best if I didn’t come over for Sunday dinner. I thought it best, too. I was also sure Chloe would be over the house, and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

We made a step towards reconciliation, but I knew things would never be the same. It would take a time for my mother to accept I was serious about being with Patrick, and that Patrick was serious about me.

I heard my apartment door unlock and open. I smiled. I gave Patrick a key to my apartment a few days before. It was stupid to have him knock every time he came over, which was a lot.

Long, warm arms wrapped around my waist. “Nice heels.”

I grinned but then thought about how they were a present from Chloe. “Thanks,” I said softly, moving out of his hold. I yanked them off and tossed them back into the closet, ignoring Patrick’s curious eyes.

It seemed it was going to take a while for me to get over it, too.

**************************************************************************

Later that week I went down to the corner store to buy some eggs and milk. I had run out of the essentials but didn’t feel like going to the supermarket.

I stood on the long line, sighing impatiently. Then I swore I caught a glimpse of my sister entering the store. I got off line impulsively and followed her to the back. I was sure I was just being crazy, just missing her.

She went down one of those dead-end aisles and a weird fear prickled the back of my neck, like she’d brought me there to kill me or something. I was being ridiculous, and told myself I’d watched one too many horror movies.

“Chloe?”

She turned around and it really was her. I was shocked; this wasn’t her neighborhood. She had also cut her hair into a short and lovely bob. She looked wonderful, even if she wasn’t smiling.

“You look great,” I said. An older man pushed by me and I dropped a box of cereal from my basket.

She leant down and picked it up, placing it back on top. “Thank you, so do you.”

My heart warmed up. She was lying; I was wearing sweats and I didn’t have any makeup on, but the fact she was trying gave me hope.

We were quiet for a moment. Chloe was eyeing the filled shelves, and I was staring at her. She wasn’t even uncomfortable. She always could hold her own in the most difficult situations, while I just went to pieces.

I couldn’t endure the silence anymore.

“I know it’s only been two weeks since I saw you, but I miss you.” I said it in a rush without thinking. I shut my mouth after and knew I’d probably scared her off. Here she was, right in front of me, not running away and being pleasant. I ruined it by referring to the delicate subject.

Chloe surprised me by smiling. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I got your messages.”

“Do you think—could we get a drink together sometime? Something like that?”

She grabbed something off the shelf but I was too nervous to pay attention to what it was. Then she looked at me. It was such a sad look, almost sympathetic, like she was sorry for me.

“No. No, I don’t think we can.”

The warmth fled from my sinking heart. “Oh. I understand.”

She shifted on her heels and peeked at her cell. “I have to run.”

“Chloe. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Her face softened. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Tears filled my eyes. “Really.”

“Bye, Nina.” She walked over and kissed my cheek.

Then she was gone, leaving me under the harsh florescent lights in an aisle that went nowhere.

**********************************************

Patrick asked me to come up for lunch the next day. I went into his office, a little nervous to be seen by his partners in the firm, and especially his secretary, Karen. She was friends with Chloe and probably knew about the whole thing.

Karen sat at a big desk in front of his office, clicking at her computer. She looked up and smiled at me when I walked over. It was all very professional. She was professional. And mature. I wished I could be so grown up.

“Hi, he said he’d be out in a minute. Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“No, thank you.” I sat nervously on the couch, waiting for her to pounce on me or fling angry accusations.

Nothing happened. Patrick came calmly out of his office a few minutes later, Karen wished us a good lunch, and we were out in the afternoon sun without incident. I promptly burst into tears.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Patrick asked, pulling me over to the side.

I shrugged. I didn’t know, escort bayan exactly. “I can’t deal with all of your, whatever. Your friends and coworkers. Not that I’ve really met any of them.”

Patrick’s head tilted and he sighed. “Okay, so you’re upset I didn’t introduce you to anyone? I have to get back for a meeting and—”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just mean that they all must know who I am, or if they don’t… Well, they will, won’t they? It’s just embarrassing. What are they going to think of me?”

Patrick’s eyes squinted at me. “I don’t know… Who gives a fuck?”

“I do!” I cried loudly. People paid us no mind as they walked by, but I felt foolish. “I do,” I said again in a quieter voice. “It just makes me look bad.”

“Nina. You have to grow up. Yeah, it’s not particularly flattering but you have to remember you’re going to offend people almost every day of your life. You take too long on line, someone’s fucking offended. You get a promotion, someone’s offended. You forget to send a birthday card, forget it. The end of the world.”

A little smile flitted across my face.

He ran a hand through his delicious hair, glinting in the golden afternoon light. “You chose this. This is the course you’re on. With me. There’s no going back. You need to decide right now, this very minute, if you want to continue. You know the risks, the drawbacks of this situation. You have to decide if it’s enough, and then you have to stick with it. No more internal debates or doubts or whatever the hell goes on in that head of yours. Be confident with whatever you decide and people will respond to that.” He kissed my knuckles and then pinned me with a serious stare. “What will it be? Do you want to be with me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling my hand from his. His face fell. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his lips. Against them, I said, “I choose you. Always. No more second thoughts. I don’t care about anyone else. Or I’ll—at least I’ll try not to care.”

His hand traced my face. He took a heavy breath.

“Let’s ditch lunch,” he said.

I laughed, letting him pull me along.

Later that night, Patrick was watching something on my TV. My cat was on his lap and the both of them looked so content—so at home—that I nearly cried over it.

But then I decided I’d done enough of crying, of second-guessing, of holding Patrick back with an unsure hand. He was right earlier in the day; I had to grow up. Patrick wasn’t some guy I was just “seeing”. He was my boyfriend. I felt things for him I’d never, ever felt for anyone else.

I walked over and picked Rufus up, putting him on the floor. He meowed with displeasure and then scurried off.

Patrick looked up at me with amused confusion. “What’d you do that for? We were getting in some bro time.”

“Ew, never say that again.”

I sat on his lap and kissed his neck.

“Ah, now I see where this is going. You were overwhelmed by my beauty as I watched television and selfishly decided to have your way with me.”

I laughed into his neck. “Patrick, stop talking.” He opened his mouth to say something else but he quickly shut up when I ran my tongue up his throat. When I reached his lips, I pressed my own against them and shoved my tongue into his mouth. He moaned and finally moved, threading his fingers into my hair.

I pulled away and smiled.

Patrick panted, watching me. “What the hell was that for?”

I straddled him, loving the predatory look in his eyes as I lifted my skirt and slipped my panties down as far as I could. “Just because.”

His hands ran up my thighs and reached around to clutch my bare ass. “Just because?”

“I love you.” I leaned over to kiss him again. I could feel his cock pushing insistently against my hip.

I readjusted and took him in my hand, sliding him through my wetness for a moment before sinking down onto him. He groaned and rested his head back. He watched me move with hooded eyes.

“You were right,” I whispered. “I need to be mature about this. Grown up. No more indecision.” I thumped down against him heavily, letting him push deeper inside of me. “I wasn’t expecting this. You. I was totally blind-sided. And my sister… It got all fucked up. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to be away from you. I want to be good for you.” My breath sped up and I was having a hard time speaking, but I felt it needed to be said. “I want to be the strong woman by your side. And you make me strong. I don’t care what people will say. Even my family. This is my life and I love you.”

Patrick lifted his hips to thrust into me. “Only you,” he grunted, “would have a serious conversation during sex.”

I grinned. “Love me or leave me, Patrick.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he said with a big smile.

And I did. When we came, it was together—with our eyes locked and our arms around each other.

Chapter 7: An Ending, A Beginning

I dragged Patrick through the snow, clutching his gloved hand with my own. We were going to be late.

“Are you sure we really have to be there?” he called from behind me.

“Patrick!” A snowflake caught on my eyelash and I rubbed it away, likely smearing my mascara and eyeliner everywhere. “You are such a fucking devil.”

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Chapter 2: A Morning Story

We cuddled in a happy knot, dozing warmly together, until the sky started to lighten outside. Micca – she hates ‘Michaela’ – leaned up on one elbow, looking down at me, and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. She took my hand from between her legs and pressed it to her lips, then to mine. The salty sweetness on my fingers and the scent of sex started turning me on all over again. I reached up and pulled her head down to mine, for a long soft kiss.

“Lin, if we don’t get going now, I might never let go,” Micca said.

“And the problem would be …?”

“Coffee.”

“Of course. I’ll get it going.”

I pulled that oversized T-shirt on, rounded up all the stray underwear, and threw it in the laundry basket. (This studio apartment doesn’t let me make two messes at a time.) The kitchenette was only a few steps more, and I had the water heating in a moment. I found watermelon in the fridge, that would do for now. The microwaved dinged while I was cutting the melon, so I poured hot water into the French press, drowning a thick layer of ground coffee. I pressed the plunger half way down, then back up again to get the air out of the grounds, and went back to cutting melon. By the time I had finished with the melon and gotten the tray set up for eating, the coffee was about done. I pressed the plunger home and poured two big mugs – we both like it back. This was our breakfast in bed.

Micca was looking at me as I brought the tray over. In fact, she had been sort of staring at me the whole time I was putting the food together. Lying on her side, head propped up on one hand, her tapered waist and round hip showed their curves beautifully. I set the tray on the bed, then sat cross-legged beside her. She sat up, adjusted a pillow as backrest, and leaned against the wall. I passed her a mug. Then, instead of giving her a bowl, I speared a pink chunk and offered it to her. She leaned forward and ate it from the fork, with that cute, shy smile.

After that, I set the fork aside. I popped a piece into my own mouth, then picked one up and offered it to her. She took it again, along with the tips of my finger and thumb. When I drew them away, she followed, and licked a drop of juice from each.

We both felt the glow from making love earlier, and enjoyed a happy moment without words. She held her mug in both hands, and I fed us both chunks of sweet melon. Sometimes, I would stroke her cheek or forehead before pulling my hand away. Then I teased a little, making her lean forward to get the next piece. When she leaned forward enough, her soft, heavy breasts swung away from her body.

Next time, I picked the biggest piece of melon, too much for one mouthful. When she leaned forward to bite into it, my other hand rose up under swaying breast and held. She looked up at me, smiled, and closed her eyes – but didn’t lean back. Instead, she munched quietly, then opened her mouth for another bite. That baby-bird trust and vulnerability melted me. My hand cupped the pendant breast as I fed her, and my thumb stroked the side of it. The next bite of melon was last, so I popped it into her mouth, then let my fingertip linger so her lips closed around it.

She opened her eyes with a liquid, happy look on her face, and nibbled her lower lip. Then she held her own hand against the one I had under her breast. She closed her eyes again, leaned up toward me, and parted her lips – the “kiss me” pose that no one can resist. I accepted, still holding her, just the tips of lips at first. I touched all around her mouth with mine, then pulled her lip between mine. Her pink tongue slid out and moistened my my mouth, then we touched in slippery warmth.

This slow, gentle exploration was nothing like tongue-wrestling with a boy, so we let it go on. Micca’s eyes opened then, and she leaned back with a smile. Her breast slid out of my hand as she did. She crossed her arms under those soft swells, lifting them, and asked, “Well, are we going running or not?”

“Let’s go.” I picked up the tray, and we both headed toward the kitchenette. The bathroom was right next to it, and that’s where she was going. Her T-shirt didn’t cover her bottom, it just bunched at the waist. The view from behind made me want to grab her again. Instead, I put the dishes in the sink, put the tray away, and started to change.

I heard the toilet flush and the sink run for a moment, then Micca came out. The T-shirt covered her this time, just barely, and she leaned over her clothes bag. The shirt rode up to show her bottom again, and I marveled at the grace and strength of that round curve. I also marveled at that dark place, just a bit wider than the rest of the crevice, at the top of her thighs. Facing away from me, she pulled on panties and shorts, then her new sport bra.

That step is no big deal for me – mine is not much more than a snug tube top with shoulder straps. She had to put hers on over her shoulders, lean down to enclose each heavy breast just so, do up way too many eyelets on the front closure, bursa sınırsız escort and adjust everything again. Socks and running shoes, then we were off.

The sun was well up, but the air still cool. That made running comfortable, but every guy we passed stared at our chests. (Well, hers mostly, but the slight chill meant I had a little something for the oglers, too.) This new bra really worked for her. Once it was on, she didn’t have to tug at it like she did with the other ones, or keep her arms crossed in front. It really held her bust to a gentle bounce. She told me where she got it and what it cost. My bras are little stringy things, when I bother, and I never paid even a third of that for one. (Well, I paid it once for a bra that promised even I would have cleavage. It lied. Only Photoshop could do that for me.) I knew how uncomfortable running could be for her, though, so I figured the price was worth it.

After about forty minutes, we slowed our pace to cool down. We both felt happily stretched and relaxed by the time we got home. When we got in, Micca asked, “Do you want first shower.”

“Yes,” I answered. “Soap my back?”

She looked blank for a moment, then realized what I was asking. “Of course!”

We almost raced undressing. I made it into the bathroom first, but stopped to collect towels and washcloths. She stepped into the bathtub and started the water. I pulled the curtain when I got in, and felt warm water around my feet. She switched the faucet to shower, and the warm water streamed over us.

“Let wash your hair,” I asked. She stood under the water to wet her hair while I poured a little shampoo into my hands. The she slid by me, away from the shower head, and stood with her back to me. I started massaging her scalp.

It was really just an excuse for touch. I had been getting mixed messages from her body language, despite our intimacy last night: shy/bold, eager/nervous, fascinated/scared. Micca had been a friend for so long that I didn’t this new experience to cause problems — I wanted her completely happy with this new part of our friendship. Her head seemed like a safe place to start. It didn’t take long to lather her short hair, but I drew it out for fun. Then I let go of her for a moment, soaped my hands and started on her shoulders.

Micca relaxed into it, leaning against the tiled wall. I worked her shoulders and back, then continued down. She tensed for a moment when I got to the wide muscle at the back of her hip, then relaxed again. I moved on quickly and down her leg. Her thighs normally touch each other, but she stood wide so I could soap in between, and worked down to her feet. Then I switched to the other leg, and lathered my way back up. I spent extra time on the thigh, especially the inside. When I got to the top inside, I barely touched her furry softness with my thumb. She shivered when I did, but flexed her legs wider. I moved up her bottom, and touched that sensitive spot deep between her cheeks. She clenched for a moment, but my slick hands continued up her back.

I stood up when I got toward her waist, and my hands started around to her front. Up, under her arms, I felt the swell of her breast, starting much farther back than I expected. She still leaned forward, onto the tile wall, and gave quiet “mmm” sounds. My hands worked forward, one under each breast, and I cupped them.

Their heaviness surprised me. I had felt their softness last night, but didn’t realize how much substance lay behind that rose-petal delicacy. I shifted my hands so my thumbs stroked the areolas, and leaned close against her from behind. She gave a dreamy sound and tilted her bottom against my lap. I held her close for a moment, then reached for the shower sprayer. I rinsed her hair, then took a lot more time than I needed to in wiping the soap from her back. I finished by turning the warm spray upward, behind and between her legs, cleaning her like a baby.

“Could you turn around?” She stood and turned toward me, arms a little out from her side, legs apart. ‘Here I am,’ her body seemed to say, ‘for whatever you want.’ I started safely again, washing one arm from hand to shoulder, watching out for the armpit tickle spot, then doing the other arm. Then I knelt to wash her feet, and worked my way up the front of each leg in turn. I stood then, and looked into her eyes. She gazed back steadily, with an easy smile. I skipped her lower body, and lifted one of her breasts in both my hands.

I savored that lovely weight, feeling somehow responsible for it while it was in my care, and examined it as I had never had a chance to before. I was amazed. I had never noticed that delicate tracery of blue veins under her milky, pale skin. I envied the fragile beauty of that blue lacework – it doesn’t show through my skin tone. I lifted the breast she had entrusted to me, and massaged soap all over the top and bottom, then did the other. I used the sprayer to rinse each one, and lifted them to rinse under.

Then I lifted one breast again, cradled it bursa üniversiteli escort in both hands, and leaned down to kiss it. I worked all across its upper side, feeling its gentle resilience against my face. I looked up to her smile again, set it gently down, and lifted the other. I kissed that too, down to a wide wet kiss across her smooth areola. Warmth had smoothed the nipple, but my lips teased it back up. When I had kissed it all, I set that one down, too.

I soaped my hands again, then started on her pubic hair. One hand held her bottom, pulling her close to me. I worked the soap all over, as I had done on her head, pressing in circles with my fingertips. She shifted one foot, then the other, to open the way down and between her legs, and I massaged lower.

Micca kept her open stance and steady contact with my eyes, but her eyes started to flutter. I found the split between her labia, and ran my finger along it – not in, but the whole length of it. She bit her lower lip, but kept her open, trusting gaze. I reached low then up, with just one finger. It slid easily between her labia, because of the soap.

“You said this is mine, didn’t you?”

She gazed at me levelly. The smile stayed, but changed from a distant dream to something much more alert and immediate.

“Yes, Lin, it’s yours.” Her arms still stood away from her sides. I saw a little tremor in them as my fingertip worked deeper between her labia. I found that tight muscle at her body’s entrance, and pressed against it. I circled the soft depth, pressing against its guardian gate of muscle, working slowly inward. After a few minutes of slow approach, the whole first segment of my finger felt the grasp of that outer ring.

“Micca, I want to feel you come again. From inside. You have no idea how wonderful it is to feel your orgasm from inside. Can you do that for me?”

Micca’s happy expression faltered, then came back even stronger. “Yes, Lin. It’s yours.” With that, one hand dropped to her pubis, and the other toyed with a thickening nipple. I felt her probe herself blindly, since her eyes continued to hold mine. Her hand moved uncertainly for a few minutes, and she shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t think I can, standing up. Is it OK if we lie down?”

“Of course,” I answered, not sure how to handle that obedient trust. “But I have to get clean, too.”

“May I?” She sounded like a little girl promised a new toy.

“Please.” I stood as she had, arms and legs spread so she could was every part of me. She started, as I had, by washing my hair. Mine is a lot longer than hers and very thick, so I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feel of her kneading the lather into it. Then she rinse the shampoo out, worked the cream rinse in, and left that to sit while the rest of me got her attention.

First, she turn me around and massaged soap into my shoulders and back. She sort of skipped my bottom, then did my legs in long, strong strokes. She turned me to face her again, and started on my legs. Then she stood and soaped my shoulders. Instead of staring into my face, her attention had locked onto my breasts. She approached them slowly and cautiously, unsure how to proceed for some reason. I made happy noises as she massaged the sides, and pulled my arms back and pushed my chest out to encourage her. Finally, she cupped one of the little things in each hand, and scissored each nipple at the “V” near her thumb. She looked into my eyes again, and said, “God, I wish I had breasts like yours.” She massaged them for a moment longer, my nipples poking the center of her hands.

Then she reached down between my legs. She looked down as she soaped my pubic hair, not looking at what she was doing but looking away from my eyes. Much too soon, she reached for the sprayer and rinsed me nervously. I just didn’t get it. I couldn’t wait to feel her hand on my sex, exploring as I had explored her, but she shied. What could I do to get her to touch me? I toyed with my pubic hair while she rinsed and thought.

“Micca, would you shave me?”

“What?” almost a yelp. “You mean, down there?”

“Yes, I want to know what it looks like, what it feels like. Would you do it for me?”

“Well, OK.” Hesitance and determination fought. Determination won.

“You’re the best friend ever.” I wanted to encourage her any way I could. “Let me get a fresh razor.” I dripped all over the bathroom getting a new disposable and the liquid soap, then stepped back into the shower. I leaned against the rear wall, cold against the tile, and grabbed the shower’s towel bar for balance I set one foot up on the edge of the tub, and said, “You’ll be careful, right?”

She didn’t answer, but was already on her knees in front of me. Once she decided she was in, her attention focused entirely on the job at hand. She worked up a light lather, massaging the soap into my pubic hair. That gentle stimulation had me quivering inside. Then popped the cover off the razor. Starting at bursa anal yapan escort the top, she worked her way carefully downward.

The first part was easy, low on my tummy and out toward my thighs. Micca slowed as she worked toward my crevice, working in short, careful strokes. After a while, she had to handle me to get all the hidden spots. Cautious at first, she gently stretched one of my labia to the side, to get in near the thigh, then spread it carefully open to get the fuzz just inside the fold. Her touch became bolder on the other side, but no less careful, then she went back up to spots she had avoided earlier. I felt myself twitching inside, I was so excited. Still, I didn’t want to challenge her new sureness.

She felt low and back, between my legs, to find the spots toward the back that needed it. I nearly laughed out loud, watching her turn almost upside down to look up at what she was doing. Then she went back to the top, to the part just where it folds inwards, to get the few bits of fuzz just inside the fold. Thumb and finger of one hand opened me while the other cautiously harvested the last of my little crop of hair. I wanted that moment to go on – just a few moments more, and my orgasm would have poured into her hands.

Micca checked her work, stroking every part with her fingertips, over and over. Up the outer lip, down its inner edge, up the other side, and down toward my thigh again. She seemed not to notice how ragged my breathing had become. She stood to switch the sprayer on, then kneeled again and directed the warm water up between my legs. She rinsed carefully until ever trace of soapy slickness was gone. She took care with the inner folds, too, then worked down low. I could feel myself tensing under her touch – and she seemed to have no idea.

Then she touched that deep point and I arched. “Micca, that slippery bit isn’t soap.” She startled and almost pulled her hand away, then held her ground. Keeping that touch where it was, she dropped the sprayer. The other hand, thumb and finger, spread me open again. She examined my inner lips and clitoris closely.

“I expected this to be, …” She faltered. “I didn’t think it would be so pretty. So delicate.” A finger stoked the side of my clitoris, sending a happy spasm outward from the center point.

With her finger still on the side of my clitoris, Micca looked up at me with a happy smile. Then she pressed a long warm kiss against my mons. The bare skin tingled at her touch. It held for a moment, then shifted, held and shifted, working its way down. She got to the point where pressure passed through to my clitoris, and my free hand found the back of her head. Feathery kisses continued downward, opening each inner fold with her tongue or lips. I moved my foot from the side of the tub to her shoulder, then behind her head. I tilted the lowest, warmest part of my vulva up to her, open wide, and felt the exploration continue. Micca had me trembling at the edge of orgasm by the time she worked her way back up to my clitoris. She took it gently between her lips and pressed.

Still pressing, her head shifted side to side. It looked like a “no” shake of her head, but it meant “yes, yes, yes!” I felt the tremors building deep inside. She kept the pressure against my clitoris even as she pressed her tongue-tip as low and far in as she could. I felt ragged moans coming from below my lungs. My throat had that raw feel of yelling, but I couldn’t hear myself. All I could do was wrap myself around Micca’s magical kisses, press her hard against me, and do something to keep from falling over. I felt my pelvis explode around that warm kiss. Micca held close, and my body tensed around her again and again.

The waves came lower and lower as my orgasm passed, so there was no one moment when I could say it was done. But, eventually, it was done. I softened the hold on the back of her head, and moved my foot from her shoulder to the tub floor. I was wracked, panting, half laughing out loud. “You come up here,” I told her. I couldn’t trust myself to let go of support yet.

Micca stood. I held her head again, and pressed it to my lips. That was my taste on her mouth. She had me inside her mouth, inside of her. Maybe that’s why guys like oral sex so much, that feeling of being accepted so deeply. She returned my grasp, pulling my bottom against her hip and covering one of my breasts with her hand.

I was still panting. “Where did you learn do to that?”

“My boyfriend tried it a few times,” Micca said, holding me. “He meant well and really tried, but he didn’t know what he was doing. I didn’t know what to tell him, either, but I liked it anyway. Then, when I saw your … you …” She still couldn’t use the words. “I kind of figured it out. You were so pretty, I couldn’t help myself.”

I was still trembling. “I need to sit down.” Micca pressed against me once more, turned off the shower, and opened the shower curtain. We took turns drying each other with big fluffy towels, and I felt the warm weight of her breasts again. I passed her a soft terry robe while she toweled her hair, and I put on a print kimono. I stood on a stool and looked in the mirror. I felt my new nudity with my fingertips, enjoying that extra sensitivity. Then I stepped down and combed my fingers down through my hair, trying to figure out how to deal with it. Sometimes, long hair can be a pain.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Andrea phoned me as she left work, “Hey, CJ,” she started.

“Hi, Babe,” I interrupted her. “I’m just starting to cook. I was thinking comfort food tonight. How does chicken pot pie sound? I’ve got two breasts on the grill and I went to the farmer’s market today. I bought leeks, celery, carrots and some other fresh veggies. Hope you’re hungry. Oh, and there’s a bottle of Chardonnay in the chiller. I’ll put some of it in the food and we can drink the rest.”

“I’m starving,” she said. “See you in about an hour.”

As I cooked, I tasted and the food was warm, and savory, and perfect. Good food makes me horny; so when the pies went in the oven I peeled off my tank top and set the timer. Fetching my laptop, I returned to the kitchen where I could smell the aroma of the food, I powered on the computer and opened my browser. I wanted to look at photos of naked people. I wanted to watch videos of lovers, making love. I was waiting for Andrea and I wanted bursa escort to look at girls and women together. The first video I watched was hot.

I couldn’t help myself. I unbuttoned my shorts and stuffed my hand down inside my panties. I put the tip of my middle finger at the top of my pussy, just above my clit. God, it felt good. Where the hell is Andrea? With a mind of its own my finger began moving in small slow circles. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of the pot pies in the oven, with the sounds of the street, three floors below, serving as the soundtrack to my fantasies. I got lost in the moment.

My thighs were squeezing both of my hands tightly and my breath was heavy when I heard Andrea’s key in the door.

“Hey CJ,” she called out, “it smells really good in here.”

I couldn’t answer her. I was just peaking. My eyes were squeezed shut, my lower lip was clinched between my teeth, my toes were curled tightly and my bursa ucuz escort ass was lifted off of the chair. When I finally opened my eyes Andrea was smiling at me from the kitchen door.

“I just can’t leave you alone, can I?” she said shaking her head.

“But, just smell those pies!” I said. I stood up, removed my shorts and panties, and walked to the oven, snagged an oven mitt and pulled out the baking sheet with the pies on them. I held them under Andrea’s nose and she breathed deeply, savoring the aroma. “Doesn’t it make you want to get naked?” I asked her.

“It makes me want to taste one,” she said.

I sat them on top of the burners and picked up a spoon and broke into one of the pies, scooping up a piece of breast meat and a piece of carrot. I dredged up a bit of the gravy and raised it all to my lips. I puckered up and blew softly to cool it down and when it was safe, I touched the bottom bursa elit escort of the spoon to my left nipple, coating my tit with savory goodness.

“There ya go girl,” I said, “have a taste.”

Andrea leaned down and touched her tongue to my tit. I felt an electric current flow from her tongue, through my breast, and all the way down to my pussy. She latched her lips on and sucked. Sucked hard. The electricity intensified. When she finished and stood up, I leaned back over the counter and put more of the food on my chest. She smiled and pulled her shirt up over her head. She dropped it on the floor and licked my tits as I undid her bra and tossed it into the corner of the room.

Leaning over I dipped two fingers into the pie, scooped up a pretty generous helping of filling, let it cool down a bit then, and rubbed it on my tits.

Ohh – Still hot. Too hot.

I scrape it off with my hand and shake it. Gravy, bits of carrot and celery fly around the kitchen and I sink into the nearest chair.

“Are you OK, CJ?” Andrea is concerned and gets a damp towel.

I stay her hand, “No,” I tell her, “Lick it off.” I lean back over the kitchen table. Andrea makes an “O” with her mouth and leans slowly in towards my chest.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Chapter 2: Hunger

The knock on the door eventually woke Laura up. Really, the knock had become more of a banging. Laura opened her eyes and was struck with how sore her body was; the back of her throat, her arm, and her abs all … ached.

“Holy shit,” she croaked. “I’ve got the flu.”

She tried to sit up, but the room spun around her. She gripped the side of her head and fell back into her comfy bed. Yes, the bed was safe.

The banging on the door continued.

“Laura?” squeaked someone from behind the door. “Are you alive?”

“Barely,” said Laura. Her voice was strained and cracking.

Laura lurched to the side and grabbed her cell phone. It was almost noon. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “The day’s almost over.”

More banging. “Laura? It’s Angelica. Can I come in?”

“Come in,” shouted Laura as loud as she could—apparently ‘as loud as she could’ was something like a smoker cough.

The door turned and Angelica came in, her hair was fairly messy. And was she out of breath? “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Laura raised one arm and let it flop back to the comforter.

“Not feeling well?” asked Angelica. “We tried to wake you earlier today, but you didn’t respond.”

“I’m sick,” moaned Laura. On the second day. Can you call out sick on the second day of work? Especially after part of the job was to move into the place? Especially after you watched your boss get devoured by two gorgeous men who were also, somehow, your co-workers? Was there a precedent for this?

“I figured,” said Angelica. “Do you feel like eating? We can get Jacque to make something special for what you’re feeling.”

“Does he have morphine? I’d like morphine.”

Angelica laughed and moved to the large curtains on each side of Laura’s bed. She thrust them open and light flooded the room.

“There,” she sighed. “My mother used to say light kept away disease.”

“It also keeps away sleep.” Laura flung the comforter back over her head.

“You can sleep later. You need food.”

“I don’t feel like anything.”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten anything. We’ll give you something simple to earn back that appetite.”

“Are you going to ignore everything I say and do whatever you want?”

“Pretty much.”

Laura flipped the comforter off of her head. “Fine,” she sighed. “Just not meat, okay?”

“Bacon wrapped sausages, coming up.”

“Cute.”

Laura rolled over and grabbed her phone while Angelica stepped out. She had two missed calls from her father and seventeen missed calls from Claire, as well as fourteen angry text messages.

Holy shit. Claire. She didn’t know Laura was moving out. She must have freaked out when a bunch of strange men started loading Laura’s stuff into a van and carting it away. Why didn’t she think to message her and explain it? Well, shit.

She called Claire without hesitating. Claire answered on the first ring.

“You got some motherfucking explaining to do,” snapped her roommate.

“Calm down.”

“Are you hurt? Are you dead? Did someone kidnap you?”

“They did, but the only ransom they want is for you to calm down,” said Laura. Claire tended to be a drama queen. Everything was the end of the world or the best in the world. There was nothing in between.

Claire sighed into the phone. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I got the job.”

“And you already got another apartment? Without me?”

“Sort of,” said Laura, looking around her room. Her stuff was already neatly put away and organized. It probably wasn’t just the way she liked it, but it was still kinder than dumping her stuff in the middle of the room. That’s precisely what Claire would have done.

“Then what?”

“She wanted me to move in with her.”

“Ohmygod, she’s a lesbian?”

“I doubt that very much,” muttered Laura. She sat up. Her strength was returning to her, but she still felt sore. She felt stiff. The slightest movement hurt, but it also stretched her and eased her discomfort.

“Then what?”

“It’s a perk of the job. I get to live in Camille Kontalban’s mansion.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know, right?” Laura smiled to herself. It felt strange to say aloud. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy. She really was living in a mansion as a personal copy editor to a successful writer. Sure, a crappy romance writer, but she was doing what she always wished she could do. She was part of something besides filling forms and flipping burgers.

“Holy shit,” repeated Claire.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

“No, it’s awful. How am I supposed to pay rent without you?”

“With money?”

“No, Laura. I don’t make enough money to pay rent on my own.”

“Oh,” said Laura. She hadn’t considered Claire’s finances when she took the job or the room.

Laura looked around the room. What else hadn’t she thought about? What kind of writer makes their copy editor live with them? What kind of woman makes her copy editor watch her get off? Laura felt so caught up in the moment, escort bayan so excited to finally have a job, a real job, why hadn’t she thought this weird? This was weird.

“Sorry,” muttered Laura. Claire kept going on about finding a new apartment, but Laura’s mind was elsewhere. Claire would figure things out. She always did. But Laura, for the first time, was thinking about the new life she had signed up for. She was thinking about Graumann and the strange staff that now surrounded her, but most of all, she was thinking about Camille with her legs spread and her servants eager to please her.

And Marcilla. Who was she? Why did Camille use some unknown poet writing about yawns to get off to? What the hell was this whole freakshow and what it did it have to do with bad poetry? Laura felt a burning desire to get her hands on that book again, as though the book would explain everything going on. Once Laura could understand Marcilla, maybe she would understand Camille.

Or maybe she knew nothing.

“Hello?” asked Claire. “Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah,” muttered Laura. “I’m just not feeling well.”

“Yeah, you sound like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“You sick?”

“Nothing gets passed you,” said Laura.

“On your second day? How the hell does that work? Can you call out sick if you live where you work? And what if you’re not sick? Do you get fired for lying about calling out sick? Jesus, I’d hate that. I’d just die if I couldn’t call out sick whenever I was fucking fed up with Horatio and the bar. Speaking of which, he asked me out … again. I don’t belong to him or anything like after one-“

“Claire?” croaked Laura.
“Yeah?”

“It really hurts to talk right now.”

“Then just listen.”

“It hurts to sit up.”

“Then lay down.”

“It just hurts,” said Laura. “Everything hurts. I’m going to go. Okay? I’ll call you when I feel better.”

“You’re really leaving me out to dry here, Laura.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll help you find another apartment, I promise. Just not this very moment.”

There was a pause. Laura checked to see if Claire had hung up, but the line was still open. “Claire?” asked Laura.

“You’re not in trouble?” whispered Claire. “Just say ‘sweet Caroline’ if you’re not in trouble.”

Laura smiled. Old joke. “Goodbye, sweet Caroline.” She hung up.

Laura sat in bed and tried to decide if Camille was some sick murderer or sex trafficker, but she had no idea what a murderer or sex trafficker looked like or acted like. She knew that the simplest explanation was often the most correct one, so she didn’t let that train of thought distract her.

The evidence suggested that Camille was a sexual creature. She wrote novels about men with abs on abs for lonely housewives. She had men with abs on abs eat her out while listening to poetry. She was kinky. She was full of life. She was powerful. The simplest explanation was that this was either a power thing or a sex thing. Laura wasn’t going to sleep with Camille, even if Camille somehow thought she owned her new copy editor. Besides, Camille hadn’t shown any signs in her writing or bedroom that she liked women. And technically, Laura was in Camille’s power. The trick was not to let Camille get too much more power over her. Don’t become dependent on Camille.

Angelica knocked on the door, and Laura told her to come in. The petite blonde brought in a tray with a silver dome over the plate and a large glass of something green and thick.

Laura pointed to the drink. “Remember, I’m sick. I don’t want to become more sick.”

“It’s a power-smoothie,” said Angelica. “Lots of greens, especially spinach, orange juice, and a whole bunch of supplements to help you feel strong.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Nonsense,” said Angelica, putting the tray and drink on the end table next to Laura. “Jacque is a genius, and you’re sick. None of us want to catch what you have, so you need to take care of yourself.”

“Bosses’ orders?” asked Laura.

“Jacque’s orders. And you’ll find he’s much sterner than Miss K.”

Angelica lifted the dome off the platter to reveal a plate of scrambled eggs and something green mixed in with it.

“Eggs and spinach. Jacque said to keep it simple, and the spinach will really help to get the blood flowing.”

“Does he have any bread?

“Of course he does.”

“I want bread,” said Laura. She covered the plate with the dome.

“When you’re better. Bread has almost nothing in it. You need nutrients.”

“I can’t eat that,” said Laura, pointing to the dome.

“Don’t be a child. It’s embarrassing. Miss K has called for a doctor to come check you out.”

Laura looked away. “I … uh … don’t have any health insurance.”

“The doctor is an old friend. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t let her have power over you. Well, shit. “You told Miss K that I was sick?” asked Laura as she lifted the dome off the plate again.

“I told everyone. They should leave you alone today while you recover. görükle escort Miss K will send you some work, but she insists that you work at your own pace. She wants you to regain your strength for tonight.”

Laura looked at Angelica and narrowed her eyes. “She expects me to show up for a Muse Session tonight?”

“Of course. Every night.”

“But I’m sick,” said Laura.

“You seem to be doing better.”

“I could be contagious,” Laura protested.

“We’ll take precautions,” said Angelica as she headed for the door to the room.

“What if I start to feel worse?”

Angelica stopped and turned. Her pleasant expression was gone. Instead, she wore a mask of disappointment. “This isn’t about you,” she said. “This is about Miss K. Don’t be a child.” Angelica didn’t wait for Laura to respond; she turned, and left the room.

After that, Laura felt appropriately guilty enough to start eating her food. The eggs were good—better than she expected. She could stomach them just fine. She waited until her plate was clean before attempting the smoothie. Despite being a vegetarian the past few years, she’d never been one for green or power smoothies. Smoothies were a dessert to her, and vegetables were decidedly un-dessertlike.

It wasn’t bad. There was a sweetness to it. She wasn’t sure if orange juice and spinach were good friends, but she could tolerate hanging out with both of them at the same time. She started with small and careful slips but felt comfortable with it by the time she was halfway through.

It was around that time that Nikki appeared. Laura half expected the redhead to show up with Angelica’s bad mood, but Nikki looked pleasant.

“Hey, hun,” she said. “Feeling better?”

“A bit,” admitted Laura. “Jacque is apparently a genius.”

“I swear,” said Nikki as she handed Laura a small red portfolio, “Miss K would fire all of us before she’d let go of him, and I don’t blame her.”

“Plus that tongue of his,” said Laura.

She smiled at her joke, but Nikki looked confused.

“I think Angelica speaks French as well.”

“Right,” said Laura, confused. Did Nikki not know? Surely, she must know.

“This is your work. Miss K says to take your time with it. She knows you’re not feeling well, but if you acquaint yourself with the story, that would be a start. ‘Consider it some sick-day reading.’ That’s what she said.”

Laura grabbed the portfolio and opened it up. She looked at the title, raised her eyebrow, and looked back up at Nikki skeptically. “The Magician’s Mistress?” she asked.

“It’s not what you think,” said Nikki. “I hear it’s the love story between the Magician and his wife. It’s a redemption story.”

“Then what, the mistress joins for a wild threesome at the end?”

“Oh, I doubt that,” said Nikki disapprovingly. “Miss K doesn’t fill her stories with crassness.”

“Right,” said Laura, absentmindedly flipping through the pages. “Does she let you read her stories?”

“Oh no,” said Nikki. “She doesn’t let anyone read them before they’re done. But … you know…” Nikki looked at the floor. “You hear things.”

“I bet you do,” said Laura.

Nikki blushed but smiled. “Anyway, she doesn’t expect you to mark it. Just read over it.”

“Got it.”

“And if you need someone to go over it with… for, uh, professional reasons of course… just let me know.”

Laura smiled. “Right. Professional reasons.”

Nikki looked up and smiled at Laura. She had a gorgeous smile. It was mischievous but true. “If you need anything,” she pointed to the landline phone, “just pick up and dial one. That should get Angelica or myself. Let us know when you want lunch, and we’ll have Jacque fix you something.”

“Thanks,” said Laura.

Nikki bowed slightly and left.

Laura finished her smoothie and sat up. She propped some pillows behind her to try and get comfortable. She really was feeling better. Her muscles felt sore, but it was like she had a long workout the day before rather than having the flu. Laura dug through her purse for her reading glasses, and started working.

The Magician’s Mistress was not a magical journey through lust, betrayal, and the redemptive power of love. It may have thought it was. It may have wished it was. But what it really was, was a series of setups for hot sex scenes. The magician’s mistress had slightly kinky tastes. She liked bondage and being submissive to the magician. He liked to show her off and be in control.

Laura’s eyes kept going over the page, predicting the plot and finding her predictions to be true. It was like popcorn: you ate it without thinking and never got full. Now, Camille’s prose wasn’t bad. She was a good writer. She had a wonderful way of describing the bare minimum. She left everything to the imagination, but she didn’t leave you in the dark on what was happening. She also avoided painful romantic fiction phrases like ‘bulging member’ or ‘turgid phallus.’ Cocks were cocks for Camille.

But the plot was bursa elit escort a nightmare. Everything was telegraphed. It was a soap opera. It was melodramatic. You had believable dialogue, beautiful prose, yet painful plot. Neither the magician, the mistress, nor the wife deserved each other. Nevertheless, something about Camille’s words gripped Laura. She didn’t stop reading for over an hour. She finally had to put the portfolio down when she got dizzy.

Laura felt Camille was selling herself short. She clearly had the capacity to write something more complicated than smut. It felt like she was playing to her audience’s expectations, giving them exactly what they wanted. They wanted a steamy sex scene, so she wrote it. Some part of Laura doubted that Camille was proud of this work.

Laura wanted to call for lunch. She wanted something to ease her building nausea, but she also felt the words calling back to her. It was like the poems last night all over again. There was something so bland, so unremarkable about them. And yet, Laura couldn’t get them out of her mind. She wanted to scan over the words again and again. She wanted the story to keep going, just like the poem.

The poem last night. A yawn. A stupid yawn. It was nothing interesting. One woman watched another woman yawn. And yet …

And yet there was a promise of something more. The Laura in the poem, Laura Karnstein, was something more than just any woman. Her yawn was something more than just any yawn. Marcilla could see it. Clearly, Camille could see it. Why couldn’t Laura? What was it about Laura K that was so interesting?

Laura found herself tracing her hands over her neck. Marcilla was hunting Laura K. She said she was going to give chase. Laura didn’t expect that. It was a tame poem before that, wasn’t it? Laura had to get her hands on the book to read it again. Was Marcilla lusting after Laura K? Was it something more or less sinister?

Laura wondered if anyone ever looked at her like that. Most of her boyfriends said she was cute. They liked her. But hunt her? Obsess over her? Lust after her? No. The boys she dated wanted something to fuck, anything. She wasn’t an object of obsession for them. She was some status. She was a way to fight off their loneliness. She was a sophisticated left hand and the whole relationship was emotional masturbation. That’s what it was. It was The Magicians’ Mistress. It wasn’t Laura K and Marcilla.

That’s why Camille wanted the poems read. She could taste Marcilla’s hunger. She needed to feed off of Marcilla’s lust for Laura K. But why not put that in her stories? Why fill page after page with poor imitations? Perhaps she was aspiring to be Marcilla as a writer. She wanted to evoke deep desire with simple words. Or maybe she was aspiring to be like Marcilla in more than words. Maybe that’s why she had beautiful men eat her out while she listened to it. Did she imagine she was Marcilla? Or did she imagine she was Laura K?

Laura gasped. She hadn’t noticed her hand sneaking under the covers. Her fingers gently swirled over her panties, her mound, applying pressure to her clit. When did she start? Why didn’t she want to stop?

Her mind flashed to images of her lounging in a hot room, sweating. She yawns. Her neck stretches long and languid. A bit of peach juice dribbles down her chin, down her neck. She feels the vein quiver. Someone is watching her. Someone is wanting her. To someone, she is the peach. She is the juice. She is dribbling.

Laura felt her legs spasm. Her body clenched and jolted with pleasure. Her eyes spread wide, but she shut them again. She wanted to stay in the salon. She wanted to sweat and feel drops of everything running over her skin. She wanted someone to notice the tiniest details of her body and lick their lips. She wanted to be hunted.

Laura came and relaxed into it, back into the bed. Fatigue struck her again. Sleep. The soreness of her body called her back to sleep, where she hoped—and it was such a silly hope—to dream of Laura and Marcilla.

***************

A knock on the door. This one was gentle, like a tree branch in the wind on the side of a building. Laura opened her eyes. The details of her dream quickly ran from her. She was in bed, a cat of some sort crawled up on her lap. She was naked. She pet the cat. It purred and rubbed against her. Then it bit her breast and fled. But Laura didn’t shriek in pain or wake up. She felt the tiny sliver of blood run down her breast, and sighed with relief.

“Come in,” she said. Already, her voice felt stronger. Jacque really was a miracle man.

The door opened to reveal Camille. She was in a beautiful navy blue dress. It was form fitting, tightly sculpted to her body. It stopped only inches below her waist. Beside the miles and miles of legs, it was modest. No cleavage or plunging neckline. Her shoulders were covered, but small cut outs along it revealed peeks of skin. Her curly and kinky hair was down, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She smiled when she saw Laura.

How could Laura not smile back?

With Camille was a strange and short man. He had grey and balding hair. He wore glasses and a three piece brown suit. He only came up to Camille’s shoulder in height.

“Good morning,” sighed Laura. She reclined back into the pillow, relaxing.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

This is Chapter 13 out of a total 17. You will enjoy this more if you read the previous chapters first.

* * * * *

I spent the next day trying to concentrate on my work despite the complex set of experiences of the previous few, culminating in finger-fucking my boss after watching her masturbate in front of me. Not quite an ‘ordinary day at the office’. In fact, I hadn’t had what most people would describe as an ‘ordinary day’ since I’d arrived back in England several months previously. I was thoroughly enjoying my work but was looking for more responsibilities and some longer-term objectives. But as long as I was the ‘Mystery Shopper’ I could adopt only limited roles within the company so as to not arouse suspicion. I seemed, however, to be arousing almost everything else in sight including myself.

So, next week looked like this:

Monday – Mystery Shopping a competitor’s new store in Cambridge.

Tuesday – Visit to a national erotic merchandise show in Birmingham.

Wednesday – Photo Shoot with the Passionella contract photographer

Thursday – Visit to an exhibition of 20th century underwear at one of London’s great museums

Friday – nothing planned but expecting to have several orgasms

I needed a quiet weekend to recover and to take stock so I didn’t see anyone and caught up on some reading and some sleep. And I made a commitment to my over-worked pussy of no-orgasms-for-the-whole-weekend despite a deep desire to experiment with my recently-acquired toys.

* * * * *

The Erotica show on the Tuesday was enlightening, enabling me to see the latest trends and offerings in the professional end of the lingerie/leisure & pleasure-wear/performance-wear market. The third prong of Linda’s new strategy was going to meet some stiff competition! Everywhere were models on catwalks and stands wearing (or not wearing) the most revealing, concealing, constraining and restraining male and female fun-wear imaginable, amongst which the exact purpose or enjoyment of some I could not fathom. Some were clearly aimed at prostitutes, lap-dancers and strippers although many manufacturers were seeking retail outlets too. I made copious voice-notes and took away vivid images and some ideas too.

Tuesday evening I was becoming restless, having avoided all sexual activity since the previous Thursday with Linda, and my pussy and my hormones were vying for attention. I had promised myself an early night so I would be fresh for a long day at the studio but I slept fitfully and got up at 6 to have time to shower, shave and ready myself. I did not need to take any clothes or accessories, as everything would be provided. I arrived early, buoyed along by the prospect of an exciting new adventure.

I was not disappointed. I spent a fascinating day at the studio during which I was attended to by some very sexy ladies, wore some highly erotic items including some from the new product ranges and experienced things I never imagined. That day was also a very significant landmark in my sexual development. I could hardly wait to see the results although some of the shots would be quite shocking and I was nervous about Linda seeing them. I dared not to encounter her for fear of what she might say, so I immersed myself in my work. I spent a lot of time in the provincial stores, so much so that I sensed that one or two of the Dems were becoming suspicious so I had to make up ever less plausible explanations as to why I needed to buy so much lingerie.

Then one day, I received a blind copy of an e-mail from Linda to her Dems:

‘I have been making a point of speaking with a cross-section of our clients recently, ostensibly to gather feedback on the test marketing of some new lines. But I’ve also solicited their views on the performance of you, our highly-valued sales demonstrators. The over-riding message I have received is that the company non-contact rules are unnecessarily restrictive. Many of our newer, younger clients lead more liberal and risk-taking lifestyles and are ready for more intimate experiences behind closed doors.

So, from now, I am leaving the nature of activity and the degree of intimacy in the store changing rooms, and in the Private Rooms at PROM, entirely to your own discretion. Bare-skin contact with and between all parts of the body is now permitted. Up to 3 clients will be allowed in a room with one or more Passionella employees at any one time and up to 3 clients may be left alone in PROM Private Rooms, but not in a store changing room for safety and insurance reasons.

Dems will not be disciplined if they choose to maintain their own level of modesty and discretion. If you feel that this new policy will put undue pressure on you, alternative work assignments will be offered.

You will need to make very careful judgements before offering or allowing increased levels of activity. Client ‘Fees’ will continue to be levied in the form of supplements added to garment prices and will be set to reflect bursa escort the specialist nature of the service we provide especially to the more demanding and adventurous clients. You will be more that adequately rewarded.

I want to take this opportunity to thank you for your continued commitment to Passionella UK. If you have any questions or would like some one-to-one coaching, please speak to your responsible Personal Shopper.

Very warmest wishes, Linda’

So, at last, Linda has not just relaxed the LDT rule, she has scrapped it completely!

I’d hardly finished reading the message when my phone rang. It was Rachel. We chatted for a while and she asked if I’d heard about the new rules. She sounded very excited and told me something else: “The Private Rooms are to be much more widely available to clients outside Launch Events and small invitation-only parties will be organised on a regular basis.” She was obviously reading aloud.

“And who’s got the new job as co-ordinator of all these new initiatives?” she continued.

I guessed right; Rachel herself, and she sounded so very pleased.

Then she told me that Linda wanted to see me that same day, at 3:00 pm, to discuss some new responsibilities and to arrange some training.

When I arrived at PROM, Rachel greeted me with a broad smile and a new hairstyle. She was brimming with enthusiasm for her new role as special events co-ordinator and her inner feelings of greater self-worth manifested themselves on the surface in her facial expression, the way she stood and talked and smiled. In short, she looked even more gorgeous than usual. She wore a burgundy jacket with nothing under it, as usual, except one of her trademark power-lift deep-cleavage bras that pushed together her so, so firm breasts, clearly visible between the plunging lapels of her single-button jacket. She wore matching hipster trousers that showed off plenty of gently-rounded tummy as her jacket parted again below its solitary, straining fastening.

“Rachel, dearest, where has all that lovely hair gone?” I demanded, as she turned her back to me to show off a very sophisticated, sharply-styled bob cut. The massive volume of her hair allowed her to carry off her new hairstyle to perfection. She looked more mature, and even more alluring than before.

“It had to go; it’s all on the salon floor now. It was too time-consuming to look after; I’d never have kept it tidy now I’m to be ‘Special Events Co-ordinator, Passionella UK’.” She obviously liked the sound of her new job title and was taking every opportunity to use it.

Rachel took me up to Linda’s office and showed me in.

Linda greeted me with a Mediterranean kiss-on-both-cheeks and we sat next to each other on the sofa as we chatted. She quickly introduced the central topic of discussion and explained:

“You will know from my New Strategy letter to my staff, and from your modelling session at Diane’s studio …”

Linda looked deep into my eyes for several long seconds, glanced down at my mouth a couple of times then back up to my eyes, sending and receiving stronger communications than words could ever express. She’d obviously seen the photos. Then she continued:

” … that we are introducing several lines of Fetish Fashion wear.”

I nodded.

“Well,” she elaborated, “in order to be able to demonstrate these lines adequately, and to attract the right clientele, I want to equip the one Private Room in a sympathetic and appropriate style. And I’d like you to take on this, and some other special projects. You must maintain your cover as a valued Passionella client for as long as possible, although I know some of the Dems are becoming suspicious.”

I nodded in agreement.

Linda explained what she had in mind. “The room will be called Black and the décor and ‘equipment’ must evoke restraint and domination, whilst retaining good taste and sophistication.”

I nodded again.

“You will need to research the latest trends so you should spend time in and around the better-class fetish clubs and also read up as much as possible on popular practices and on equipment suppliers & installers. You might like to befriend Diane, the photographer, as she is something of an aficionado herself and may have some good tips and contacts. You have a virtually unlimited budget but very little time. Rachel is organising a special invitation-only party as part the launch of Pleasure In Control in 4 weeks. You can co-opt help from my staff if you need some, er, Guinea Pigs, to try out the new room. Are you up for it?”

I agreed without hesitation, but Linda cautioned me. “You will still need to visit the outlets too, regularly. I need you to ensure that the Dems are meeting our high level of customer expectation, especially now I have relaxed the rules of engagement. Do you understand? You need to push the girls, to see how far they will go and what they will and won’t do for an important and high-spending bursa escort bayan customer like you. Do you realise what this means?” I said that I thought I did, but Linda put it more bluntly. “You must go out and fuck them in the changing rooms and send detailed written reports back to me. OK?”

“Er, well yes, sure. Sounds good to me,” I shrugged.

What a fantastic way to earn a living. And a very good living too. Doing something I enjoyed and getting paid for it. There were some Dems in particular whom I couldn’t wait to ‘Mystery Shop’.

“I know you’ll enjoy yourself, from what I’ve seen and heard about you.”

I wondered just what she’d seen and heard, and how.

“Come and see what you have to work with,” Linda insisted, as she opened a door opposite her office. This led to another, narrower flight of stairs and then a small corridor with doors on both sides. I felt uneasy and tried to speak but Linda shhh’d me. Then she opened the last small door and ushered me into … the one remaining unused Private Room. So, Linda had her own back stairs to the rooms. Like a Tradesmen’s Entrance, but without the ‘men’.

She explained without me having to ask. “This assures complete discretion for clients who do not want to be seen entering or leaving the Private Rooms with Passionella staff or with other clients. Not everyone is so brazen as Yasmin and Zöe.” I smiled.

“This is your empty canvas,” eulogised Linda.

The room was not completely empty, but contained only a reclining chair, just like the ones in White, Silver and Gold. I walked over and sat in it. It was very comfortable.

“I’ve already arranged for Charlotte to provide some training, so you get to understand and experience the full range of possibilities that my ‘Chair of Four Pleasures’ offers to the more adventurous. Friday at 7:30 p.m. OK?”

I entered the date and time into my organiser and invoked the Double-Undelete function so I could not possibly miss the appointment.

As I left the building, Rachel deliberately stood in the doorway so I had to turn sideways and squeeze past her to get out. I brushed against her breasts and she looked at me. “New job too?”

I smiled; she was making a pass at me.

“Let me know if you need some help, won’t you,” she breathed in a sexy, Marilyn Munroe voice, unbuttoning her jacket and pushing her half-naked breasts against mine. Shit, they felt so good, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them.

I met Diane outside her studio later that week as arranged. Stupidly, I’d expected her to be dressed in fetish wear as she emerged onto the street but she wore smart casual clothes that flattered her more mature figure. I’d chosen a tight-fitting black satin halter-neck cat-suit and matching high heeled boots with buckle straps up the front, the nearest I dared get to Fetish and still feel safe walking the streets. We chatted as we walked to the bookshop she had suggested but never once mentioned my photo session.

Diane chose the latest issues of some fetish-wear magazines and three books for me to read; I paid cash. Then we stopped outside a plain black door in a side-street. Diane phoned a number from her mobile and the door opened inwards. The doorman greeted Diane warmly by another name and looked me up and down before nodding us through. We climbed the dimly-lit stairs, which were carpeted in thick, lush black.

Diane led me into a small side room where she nonchalantly slipped off her day clothes to reveal her voluptuous body tightly clad in a one-piece cream leather corset that covered but exaggerated her breasts, matching leather tight-fitting panties and contrasting knee-length light brown boots. She looked fabulous.

Sitting at the bar sipping soft drinks, I felt I could have been anywhere. Small groups laughed and conversed animatedly and passing folk welcomed me politely. Some made intelligent conversation and others apologised before they spoke to Diane as an old friend. The only difference was that they all wore the most outrageous clothes I could never have imagined. No-one exposed so much as a nipple, let alone genitalia, but their clothes were so very, very sexy.

Some wore impossibly tight corsets that pinched in their waists to half their usual size. Others wore skin-tight outfits in every conceivable colour of leather and latex rubber. Some clients wore masks that covered some or all of their faces but others wore none so their faces were clearly and shamelessly visible. I felt outrageously over-dressed, or maybe underdressed, but Diane reassured me and put me totally at ease. She explained that tonight was just a normal club night with no activities planned, but she wanted me to see the ‘equipment’. She led me up another plush flight of stairs and through one of numerous archways into a ‘Pleasure Zone’

Here I was confronted by an alarming array of straps, buckles and chains.

“This is the type of facility that Linda bursa merkez escort wants you to create at her company HQ” she explained. It made sense – to cater for the sector of Passionella’s customers who want to experience fetish-fantasy for themselves but who couldn’t or wouldn’t frequent such a brazenly explicit club as this. Under cover of a respectable up-market lingerie retailer, they could push the boundaries within a safe and trusted environment. Hmm …

Diane invited me to try out some equipment. She showed me numerous ways in which I might be secured, immobile, to the walls, the floor or to wooden and metal contraptions. She attached my wrists, waist and ankles to some leather cuffs to a device that effortlessly lifted me off the floor. Then she invited me to help her into a sling-like small hammock suspended from a gantry, demonstrating how a partner might then gain unobstructed access to her breasts, her pussy and her butt. I was intrigued and asked to try but she looked at her watch.

“Not this time, but just take a look in here,” she countered. Through another arch was a large wooden X-shaped construction against one wall, with numerous cuffs and belts along its four arms. Diane showed me how it could be rotated about its central axis; its use was obvious. Also in this area were two benches, each shaped something akin to a horse saddle.

“Fuck-machines” explained Diane. She stood beside on of them and pressed a green button causing a short, thick dildo emerged from the top, near to one end. I shuddered at the thought of what that could do to its passenger (rider?), especially when I read the array of labels under the various controls: Speed, Depth, Rotation, Vibration, Pulse, Ejaculate, and ‘Pre-set Programmes’. Diane observed my interest but led me away, advising: “Maybe one day, when you’re truly ready.”

By now my pussy was ready for something; the thought of all this stuff in full use on a busy Saturday night had me hooked. Diane had to get away so I made my own way home, my mind racing and my pussy glowing in warm expectation. That night I drifted off to sleep with images of belts and cuffs filling my head.

At home the next day, I pored over the books and magazines I’d bought as well as the catalogues and portfolios of some of Diane’s contacts; manufacturers and retailers of some highly imaginative ‘play equipment.’ I made copious notes and started to formulate a plan for Black Private Room. I phoned around and obtained some rough prices so I could put together a budget for my project

The next evening I was due at PROM for my training with Charlotte. I was looking forward to that so I took an early night, this time finding it even more difficult to keep my hands off my own pleasure-zone.

* * * * *

Compared to the experiences of the previous week, my weekend was quiet and mundane, which was exactly what I needed. I went about my everyday activities, cooking, phoning friends and attending to my personal paperwork. I also tried to make sense of the barrage of new experiences and feelings I had encountered, relating them as best I could to my childhood, my previous relationships, my dreams and fantasies and my plans for the future, vague as they were.

I needed to regain my composure and my stamina as I had a busy, demanding few weeks ahead. Usually, Emma and Linda let me plan my own time. But I was under strict instructions to ‘mystery-shop’ several of the Dems to ensure they were implementing Linda’s relaxation of the LDT rule. I figured that Linda had put some of the Dems into one of two categories: Those who would feel inhibited, and therefore unwilling or unable to provide the very intimate services that Linda had vowed to provide to her most valued clients, and the over-zealous who might damage Passionella’s reputation for discretion and sensitivity. I went through the same exercise:

Category 1: Fiona, Danielle, Abigail?

Category 2: Stevie, Abigail?? Vikki?

I realised that, in order to report back to Linda, and regardless of which category they fell into, I had to lead them on. I had to establish where their limits were, what they were willing to do for me, with me and to me, in the fragile privacy of a store changing room. I had to provoke them, and to seduce them.

I spent many hours planning my strategy, different for each woman according to her personality and my previous encounters with her. I found the process to be both challenging but also very exciting. I sometimes drifted from planning into pure fantasy, imagining myself in most unlikely situations with these attractive and sensual colleagues, in which their behaviour became erotic in the extreme and absurdly daring as my fertile imagination explored the furthest corners of my desires.

My first visit took me to the Oxford St. store in London where I found mature, redhead Fiona arranging stock. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me and was polite, helpful and professional to a fault. But try as I might, I couldn’t persuade her to do any more than to help me undress and to compliment me on my appearance. I tried really hard but I was unable to seduce Fiona into so much as undressing, let alone engaging in close physical contact. Conservative Fiona was going to struggle with the new relaxed rules.

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This story will be a slow burn.

From the beginning….

Sam felt suddenly very strange. She was in a very familiar, very comfortable place – she was lying naked in Jack’s muscular arms. He was doing something he had done to her a thousand and more times. She and Jack had been together for six years after all. So there he was, working his routine. Gently kissing her neck, allowing his tongue to ingest subtle tastes of the perfume she had sprayed there many hours before.

And yet despite this level of familiarity for her, Sam wasn’t herself. She couldn’t put her finger on why she felt the way. Typically, Jack knew how to hit all her hot spots and his six-pack abs were enough to get anyone in the mood. Sam let out a frustrated sigh that probably came off as an aroused moan to Jack.

‘What is going on with me?’ Sam thought to herself.

She chalked it up to her feeling tired, put her body in robotic mode, and carried out their lovemaking. Then she slipped into a warm shower to wash away her day.

Hours later, the harsh buzz of the morning alarm woke Sam from sleep. She groggily lifted her head and looked over at the time. 7:20 am. She hit the snooze button; she needed a few more minutes. She re-adjusted her body and found a new cool spot in her white crisp sheets and she immediately nestled herself in. Jack had already left for his early morning meeting. Sam was completely by herself and she was happy to be so and fell quickly back to sleep.

After a brief period of time, Sam became aware of her naked bursa escort body as she danced between being awake and being lost in a dreamscape. Her body was soft to the touch and she liked the way she felt under her own hands. She ran a few fingers slowly down the center of her stomach, feeling her toned muscles. A warm feeling made its way through her as the middle finger on her right hand circled her swollen center.

The sensation caused Sam to release a guttural moan of pure delight. Suddenly she became aware of the fact that she wasn’t alone. Sam slowly opened her eyes to see Eve, the beautiful bartender she had met the night before. Eve stood over her bedside, gave Sam a sensual smile, and slowly pulled back the only sheet covering Sam’s naked body. Eve raised her finger to her own mouth to signal Sam to be quiet.

Sam was startled and didn’t know what was happening but the overwhelming anticipation of what was to come kept her in that sensual morning moment.

‘How did this gorgeous creature I met mere hours before get into my place? Had Jack let her in to come and find me?’ Sam wondered.

Sam’s eyes were still closed. She was slowly rocking her head from side to side on the pillow still in utter disbelief to how incredible she felt. She licked her dry lips, attempting to have a voice. With eyes still shut and her trembling legs still spread, she seductively found the courage and said aloud, “Come here, I need to taste you.”

What Sam heard in reply completely shocked her. She bolted upright in escort bursa bed and grabbed the bed sheet to cover her breasts. ‘How could this be? What the hell was happening?’

Standing there before her at the foot of the bed was Jack. He was looking down at his girlfriend with a grin on his face, and considering her notable distance from him the night before, he was shocked at this sexual greeting that he had just received.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jack questioned.

The look of shock and disappointment that met him in return was less than what he was hoping for but Sam couldn’t mask how she felt and it was written on her face. She fell back to her pillow in frustration after mumbling something dismissive to Jack, as only couples know how to do to take a potentially charged moment and quickly make it go away.

Jack found the file he had mistakenly left behind earlier and walked out with a quick, “Catch you later, bad girl.” He was gone. Again.

Back in the shower, hot water pelted her body and Sam delighted in the feel of heat against her skin. She could not shake her mind clear of Eve. Eve was working the bar last night and Sam was instantly drawn in by her. Not only was she breathtakingly gorgeous, she was so easy to talk to. That is, once Sam found her courage to speak. With a happy sigh, she recalled the fun banter they exchanged at the bar.

* * *

“I’m Eve.”

When Sam remained unusually shy and quiet, Eve encouraged, “Okay, I think now is the part where you tell me your name.”

“Oh bursa escort bayan you think so?” Sam teased back, once she found her voice.

Eve leaned into the bar with her smoldering brown orbs gazing directly into Sam’s blue eyes. “If you’re going to keep coming here, then you should probably tell me your name.”

At that point, Sam was so engrossed in Eve that she couldn’t recall her own name! No words were spoken as the intense stare continued. Sam swore she felt a chill shoot up her spine and her body prickled with a giddiness she had not felt in a long time.

Eve finally broke the silence. “Ah, come on. I don’t bite.” The bartender moved away and finished with a playful, “Unless you want me to.”

* * *

Sam’s mind returned to the present and she smiled as the steam from her hot shower engulfed her. She couldn’t wrap her brain around how she could have experienced such an unbelievably powerful dream…. a dream that left her more aroused, more wet and more hungry than she could remember feeling in years, if ever.

Sam ran her soapy soft sponge over her breasts, down her flat stomach and between her legs. She still felt tingly and was amazed as never before had she had such a dream – a dream that she so wished had been reality.

Before she knew it, Sam was dressed for work and in her car on her way to the office. There was a marked difference in her this morning. The warm leather seat seemed to cradle her more sensually; the rear view mirror gave back a more flirtatious countenance. She felt more alive, more on fire, more determined to live fully.

Sam’s introduction to Eve, the stunning bartender had completely turned something on in her mind and body and all of life’s other issues paled in their utter boring normalcy.

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Deanna and Summer had both attended high school together, and their friendship had its “roller-coaster” aspect. They were a true contrast, these girls. Deanna had long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes. She had an elegance to her that Summer didn’t quite possess. Summer was a classic blonde, who shared her eye color with Deanna, but little else in appearance. She had a bit of a tan, unlike her best friend. She was not quite as intellectual as her friend, either, though not the typical blonde bimbo that some would assume. She had a brain and ambition to be something: she wanted to be a reporter for the local TV news.

Deanna, meanwhile, pursued a career in the theater, hoping to become a serious actress. She actually had talent as well as beauty, after all. In the meantime, she worked as a drama teacher at the same high school that she once attended. She was an extremely popular teacher, especially since her general nature was friendly and vivacious, despite her blue-blooded looks.

Surprisingly, Summer had already succeeded at her goal, to a lesser extent. She worked for the local affiliate’s consumer protection program, which gave her some exposure to the public. She didn’t find it quite as interesting as some of the other local news, but it was a degree of celebrity that many doubted that she would get when she had told them her plans. She felt some vindication.

Naturally, both living in the same area, they had not lost contact with each other. They spent plenty of time together, even though they now had plenty of other friends.

Summer was a bit freer on the surface, sexually speaking. She dated a succession of men, usually dumping them when they failed to live up to her idea of what a man should be. She wasn’t going to settle down quickly or settle at all, in fact. She also believed in sampling the meat before purchasing it. She was in no rush to wed or have children. In the meantime, she could have fun. She didn’t cheat on most of her boyfriends, but she had occasionally found a new man before dropping the old one. At this point in her life, however, she had goofed up and cheated on her beau, which cost her a man that she at least admired, if not loved.

Deanna was a good friend, but she didn’t mince words. She made sure that Summer understood that she had to take some responsibility for the breakup and infidelity. Brent wouldn’t have broken it off so soon, after all, if Summer hadn’t screwed his buddy Troy. She also pointed out that it would have ended, eventually, however.

As for Deanna herself, her seemingly quiet sex life was actually more active, at least since college and her involvement in the socially liberal acting community. She was bisexual, and she had even experienced a little fling with another woman, one that she hadn’t bothered to tell Summer for reasons of simple awkwardness (that had been early enough in her acting career that she was still shy about her interest in girls). Since then, she had become more confident, but she found it useful to let Summer think herself the wild one. It was too important to her friend’s identity to disabuse her by informing her of her own emancipation from social mores.

At the moment, Deanna was secretly exploring the idea of moving away from monogamy toward an open relationship or group dynamic. She wasn’t sure which one that she would choose, but it was increasingly obvious that exclusive relationships worked poorly for her. She always ended up with either jealous boyfriends who didn’t understand that she was just looking at other men, not touching them, or cheating boyfriends who couldn’t be inconvenienced by making the same sacrifice that she had made for them. They didn’t seem to grasp that she would never accept or impose a double standard, not to mention that she was every bit as frustrated with monogamy as they were. She would not put herself through that situation again.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, her family kept pushing her to return to the Presbyterian church that she used to attend when she was a child. Telling them of the full details of her interest in “alternative lifestyles” seemed rather imprudent to her, so that created some more distance between her and the rest of the Falkirk family. The pressure to marry was very strong as well. In her own way, Deanna was as much against “settling down” as Summer.

Despite her own anxiety about telling Summer the truth, it came out finally when they had their usual Sunday lunch together. The two of them had been doing this ever since Deanna stopped attending church. Since she was now 30 and Summer was 29, that had been a long time now. However, this particular weekend, Deanna and Summer had both drunk enough Tom Collins and gotten sufficiently annoyed with their families to open up somewhat.

“Dee, honey, sometimes I think that we are so close that we should be lovers! Then again, I like men a lot and don’t think that I could be faithful to you. I’m not even sure that I’m bi, for that matter. I know that bursa escort I’m not a lesbian,” Summer observed, after they had both mocked some of the guys that they dated in the recent past.

“Well, as a matter of fact, that thought has occurred to me now and then. I am sure that I am bisexual. I like both men and women. In fact, I have even enjoyed a little tryst with a woman once. She was a colleague in the theater. We didn’t last because she was a lesbian and wanted me to give up men for her. I couldn’t do that, naturally. Cock is too important to me. I have to admit that I find you attractive. You’re also my best friend, which I don’t want to endanger by cheating on you. Would you be interested in trying an open relationship? We could make an effort at that, at least until or unless we find a man for a long-term arrangement,” Deanna stunned her girlfriend by proposing such a deal.

“You mean a deal where we could each fuck around with the other’s blessing? I can’t believe that you thought of that, since I am supposed to be the wilder of us. Then again, I guess that you are more liberal than I thought. It must be due to your acting friends in the theater. I have just done the typical thing of trying to be faithful to a man, failing sometimes, and dropping him whenever he doesn’t turn out to be what I want. I suppose that if I could screw around and not risk a relationship with you, I’d be happy to go for it.

“We’re better matched than I have been with these men whom I’ve dated. I have the feeling that is mutual. You’re also the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known. I don’t know if we can be a lasting couple, but I wouldn’t be opposed to having sex with you as an experiment. You are a truly wonderful and honest person, much more than most people that I’ve met, of either sex. I could safely experiment with you and not worry about you using it against me, I think.

“However, I wonder what you mean by ‘long-term arrangement’. Do you mean, if we don’t work out?” Summer reacted to this offer with mixed feelings.

“Actually, that is one possibility, but I am also thinking about a 3-way marriage. I am not sure what you would think of sharing a man, probably in an otherwise exclusive deal, but it’s a thought. The open relationship would continue until or unless we found a man that we wished to do that with, if that sounds okay with you,” Deanna explained.

“That would have its advantages too, I guess. No need for condoms, for instance, which I hate anyway. That’s probably why I haven’t thought of the open relationship before myself. I feared exploring something that would involve condoms. Do you think that we could just arrange tests for any prospective sex partners, so that they do not have to wear condoms? Besides, that would allow for occasional female partners, with whom condoms would not work anyway. That could work until or unless we find a man to share. I have to admit that the group idea appeals more to me for that and another reason. The other reason is that I like the implied intimacy of two girlfriends sharing the same boyfriend or husband. I could definitely go for that,” the blonde added.

“That sounds like an excellent amendment, baby. So much for the theory that blondes are stupid. By the way, you’re a ravishing beauty yourself. The ‘no condom’ policy would be great for having children as well. If we’re going to be lovers, we’ll need a sperm donor, and doing it the natural way makes more sense than using in vitro. I’m assuming that you still want to be a mom, just like I do,” the brunette agreed.

“Of course I do, dear! So, since we’re going to be lovers, don’t you think that we should celebrate this by having our first threesome? It would make one of my first Sapphic encounters more comfortable, after all. It would be a novelty for both of us. Do you want to kiss or start doing something else? Should we hold hands? I’ve never been in a same-sex relationship before, and I guess that I’m in one now, since I have basically agreed to be. This is something scary for me, I have to admit. I just have a lot of questions. I hope that doesn’t annoy you,” Summer stammered.

“Maybe we can start with a light kiss on the lips and another drink. This time, let me buy for both of us. Before you protest that you make more money than I do, let me assure you that I will let you pay the next time. I just want to buy a drink for my new girlfriend,” Deanna suggested. “Alright, another Tom Collins. Let’s go ahead and kiss now. I want to experience my first lesbian kiss while I have enough nerve and alcohol to do it without shaking,” the reporter responded.

Deanna stopped talking about a kiss and gave Summer an awkward one on the mouth. The reality of taking their lifelong, platonic relationship in a romantic and sexual direction was a bit more nerve-wracking than exploring her bisexuality with a lesbian colleague at the theater. For one thing, the colleague had been the sexual aggressor. For another, there was less to lose. A best friend escort bursa was far different from a colleague.

Despite being anxious and having the proverbial butterflies in their stomachs, Deanna and Summer realized that their first kiss was not only pleasant, but delightfully sensual. They found themselves continuing it for longer than the “light kiss” that Deanna initially proposed. The waiter was rather distracted for a second, but managed to check up on them after that moment.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude. I just wondered if you girls want something else to eat or drink? Dessert, perhaps, or another Tom Collins?” he stuttered.

“Another Tom Collins indeed, for both of us. I’m paying for it. In fact, I’m paying for the meal. It’s a date,” Deanna informed him.

Summer was about to protest, but Deanna caressed her hand and gave her a wink that reminded her that this was part of the change in their relationship.

“Yes, that’s rather obvious. I’ve seen you before, but I don’t recall you two being so affectionate with each other. In fact, I remember you going Dutch most of the time,” the waiter noted.

“That’s because we used to just be friends. Now we’re lovers. We’re not gay, though. We’re just bisexual. Now, if you don’t mind, get us our drinks and the check?” Deanna explained.

They got their drinks in a couple of minutes, along with their check.

“So, you’re bi, but you’ve sworn off men? That must be tough? Quite a sacrifice to make for love,” the waiter remarked.

“Who says that we’ve sworn off men? We have an open relationship, my nosy friend. Not that I mind your interest. In fact, I have to wonder if you would be willing to donate some sperm. Since you’re so keen on being involved in our lives, that sounds like something that should appeal to you. Plenty of men would go for that anyway,” Summer commented, hoping that she hadn’t bothered her partner.

Deanna grinned and started playing “footsie” with her lover. “As nice as that sounds, I don’t know if I can cum easily in a cup in a clinic. It’s so awkward, or at least it sounds that way,” the waiter replied.

“Did I say the word clinic, Dee baby? I don’t recall saying anything about a cup, either. I’m talking about an ‘old-fashioned’ contribution. It wouldn’t be today, so don’t get too hard over the thought of a threesome. We would have to test you for STDs and HIV, since you would be going bareback with us. Furthermore, neither of us are especially fertile at the moment. We’d have to wait until the next fertile cycle after a test, whether it’s mine or hers. If you pass muster and you’re available to sleep with us, we’ll set up a meeting at my place and you can fuck both of us until you’re wiped out. We also have to be sure that you’re not in a traditional marriage or relationship, since we don’t want you cheating on a spouse or lover,” Summer commented.

“My name is Kyle Baldwin. No, I’m no relation to the famous Baldwins, as far as I know. You are? I mean, if we’re going to look into this, I should know who you are and able to track you down, and vice versa,” Kyle remarked.

“Kyle, huh? That has a great sound to it. So, are you married?” Deanna probed.

“Well, um, I, uh….,” he stammered, trying to evade the question.

“In other words, you are. Would your wife object to you fucking other women?” she queried.

“Well, yes. We’re newlyweds, in fact, and I don’t think that she is mature enough to get past her jealousy. I was hoping that you wouldn’t look too closely into that,” Mr. Baldwin clarified.

“Well, when she matures and you learn some more honesty, perhaps we can work something out for the 2nd baby. Don’t count on us being available, however. We might have a group marriage by that point. For now, let’s keep it on a first-name basis. If things change, we can exchange phone numbers. I’m Deanna and this is Summer. Too bad we couldn’t work things out, but right now we want our check. Nothing personal. It’s just time to go, while we are not too drunk to walk to her place. It’s in walking distance, but I won’t tell you exactly where. Nice to meet you, Kyle,” the teacher reacted to this confession.

“So much for that plan, huh? We damn near got involved with a married man. Then again, it was rather hot, almost setting up a date for a tryst. It’s my fault. I spoke up too soon. I was just so eager to have a threesome and a baby that I acted impulsively,” Summer admitted, when they got to her house.

“Hey, you showed quick, snap decision-making. There’s nothing wrong with that. We managed to get out of that in time. I didn’t exactly protest earlier. Sometimes, we just have to take turns acting swiftly like that. No harm. Speaking of impulses, what about Brent? We know him. You know that he doesn’t have an STD or HIV, or you’d have it by now. You were feeling guilty and missing him. This would be a great way to make it up to him and possibly have a relationship with him again, one that might work better bursa escort bayan than the last one. He seems like a great guy, and we have nothing to lose if he turns us down. What do you think? He could be our boyfriend, our husband, the father of our children. If he was faithful to you, he can certainly be faithful to both of us,” Deanna commented.

“True, and I’d have an easier time being faithful to him this time, if all of my needs were met. Not that it’s a legitimate excuse, but it was a factor in my cheating. I was still wrong to fuck around on him with his friend, but I know that it won’t happen again. I’m confident that you would be faithful to him as well,” Summer observed.

“Of course, I’d be faithful to him! If we have a three-way marriage, all of us will be satisfied, like you said, and I would have no excuse to cheat. I can picture it now. If all of us are horny, we have threesomes. If only 2 of us are aroused, then the odd one out doesn’t feel obligated to join in, because the other two are still covered. If we can get him to cooperate, and the evening turns out well, we can have a great relationship. I’ll be honest and say that I have had a few fantasies about him. I just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you thinking that I was after your man,” her girlfriend assured her.

“Well, now he is going to be our man, knock on wood,” the blonde jibed.

“Let’s hope so. I would love for all of us to be together. I think that we could make him a happy and satisfied man,” her brunette friend stated.

“You know, it’s talk like that which gives me hope that we will fall for each other. You always were a sweetheart, so loving you makes perfect sense, babe,” Summer said, before she locked lips with Deanna again.

“Brent or no Brent, I can’t wait any longer to make love to you, honey. Let’s do it now. I have to enjoy your body. I’ve often wanted to fuck you anyway,” Deanna declared.

“Really? I know that I’m sexy, but I really didn’t know that you fantasized about me. Too bad you didn’t tell me sooner. Think of the great lesbian sex we could have enjoyed. We could have added Brent or someone else later. Oh, well, that’s the past. Let’s go ahead and enjoy each other now,” Summer agreed, as she started undressing in front of her new lover.

“You seem rather nervous all of the sudden. You’ve disrobed in front of me before, love. What’s different now?” Deanna remarked.

“The difference is that I want to attract you. I didn’t care if you found my body desirable before, Dee,” Summer explained.

“There is nothing to worry about, baby. I’ve always found you attractive, hence my fantasies about you. Don’t worry. I’ll be undressing in front of you, too, and have as much reason to fear as you,” Deanna pointed out.

She proved her point when she removed her own clothes, slowly teasing Summer with the last bit that she took off, namely her panties. Oddly enough, for an otherwise liberated woman, Deanna preferred white cotton panties to thongs. Even so, they went well with her pale skin and her soft, ladylike exterior that masked her willingness to experiment sexually. Then again, thought Summer, who said that a lady couldn’t be open-minded? They weren’t mutually exclusive, except in the opinions of the sort of women who said things like “nice girls don’t do that” and other such rubbish.

When they were both nude, Summer approached Deanna and kissed her breasts, before French-kissing her mouth. Deanna didn’t show any hesitation in returning the favor. She also gestured toward Summer’s bedroom, which made it clear that she hadn’t lost her nerve. The blonde surprised her new partner as well by picking her up and carrying her over to the bed. The brunette briefly allowed her girlfriend to take control of the act, showing a passive and submissive side by lifting her bottom and planting her face in her hostess’s pillow.

“Why are you lying there like that, babe?” Summer demanded, uncertain of whether this was typical in a Sapphic encounter or not.

“You want to take charge, so I’m letting you, hun. I want you to fuck me. I will reciprocate, I promise. Use your tongue, your hands, anything you wish. Just take my pussy. Have your way with me, Summer. Do whatever you want with my body, whatever desire or fantasy pops in your head. I’m letting you experience your first time with a woman however you prefer. Whatever pleases you, just do it to me,” Deanna shocked Summer by offering her.

“Okay, but don’t complain later. After all, you’ll have your chance to get your way too. You’re shaved, I noticed. Good, because I am to taste every part of your body. My tongue will go all over that delicious skin of yours,” Summer announced.

The chills and goose bumps that Deanna got from hearing those words were soon dwarfed by the shivers that she received because of the oral manipulation of every square inch of her flesh. Summer licked, kissed, “gummed”, and sucked on everything. Her toes, her feet, her arms, thighs, calves, buttocks, pussy, clit, sphincter, taint, back, and her breasts were sampled. Admittedly, Summer had to turn her friend over to taste her bosom, but she didn’t mind that, and neither did Deanna.

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