Christie

My name is Christie, and I recently became a lesbian's lover. I didn't
plan it, it just happened. Well, Heather made it happen. It happened while I
was in a girl's school for five short, heavenly months, but we've stayed in
touch since then. In the weeks to come I will relate my stories as I have the
time, and the nerve. My family brought it all about, although making love to
another girl is so great I would have gotten around to it eventually.
Being sent away to a girl's school didn't help, I was angry and confused at
my parents, and rebellious. This frame of mind certainly added to my
confusion, but pure lust became my downfall.
It started on the very first day, when I moved into my room. The first
thing I noticed was that I wasn't alone. There was another bed and another
girl in the room. When I slammed open the door, with an armful of luggage,
she sat bolt upright in the bed, wearing only a pajama top and a tiny pair of
panties. By the way that she quickly rearranged her panties and hid her hand,
I knew what she'd been doing. I do it myself occasionally. I was amazed to
find that other girls do it too. Somehow I thought I invented that little
finger trick. She saw my gaze and stiffened, then gave me a knowing smile.
"Hi," she said brightly, then yawned and stretched. I couldn't help but
notice that she was young. Her stomach was firm and slender, like mine, and
her breasts were perfect grape fruit halves, also like mine. In fact, a
stranger might mistake us for sisters, except I'm blonde and she has brown
hair. She glanced up shyly and saw my admiring glance. With a giggle she
jumped out of bed and made her way to the adjoining bathroom. She didn't
bother closing the door. The sound of her peeing was loud in the room. I
tried to ignore her and unpacked. It was 10:00 o'clock and I was tired.
Luckily it was Friday night and I wouldn't be expected to attend any classes in
the morning.
"My name's Heather," the girl came strutting back and extended her hand. I
took it suspiciously, not knowing if she'd washed it or not. The chill of her
flesh and trace of moisture assured me that she had.
"I'm Christie," I shook her hand firmly. She gave my hand a quick squeeze
before sitting on my bed next to my pile of suitcases.
"Can I help you unpack?"
"God no, I'm just getting out the stuff I need. I'll unpack after I've
slept for 15 hours. Thanks for the offer though."
"No problem. Is there anything you need?"
"A new family would be nice."
"Bad, huh?"
"What?"
"Are you here for the duration, or just the semester?"
"I don't know. My parents had a big fight, started talking about divorce,
and BANG, I ended up here before I knew what hit me. Hell, I'm an 18 year old
high school senior, what was so important that they couldn't let me finish
school at home? I'll be going off to college in five month anyway."
"That's tough. Well if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or... anything,"
she said significantly, "just let me know. I'll do my best to please you."
"Great, thanks. Is there anything you need?" I asked, then kicked myself
for leaving such an opening.
"Do you have any "c" batteries?"
"Huh?"
"You know, the small round batteries that go in a vibrator?"
"I... wha... Heather, I've never even seen a vibrator before, much less
owned one."
"Too bad, it helps you get through the nights. Well, if you want to borrow
mine, just yell. I'll get a supply of batteries tomorrow. I guess I'll just
have to finish up with the ole finger for tonight."
"Heather, you're a pervert," I said with mixed outrage and humor. I had
never seen a girl like her before.
"Of course I am, everybody knows that. But I'm a cute one," she said,
batting her eyes at me, then jumping up to go to her own bed. "Nightie-night,"
she called and turned off the light over her bed."
"Night, Heather," I said absently as I took out the camel shirt I used for
pajamas. With Heather in the room I suddenly wished I had more to wear.
Maybe my sweats... no, they would be too hot. I turned off the light before I
changed into my own clean underwear and the shirt. Even then I felt that
Heather's eyes were probing the darkness to watch. I quickly jumped into bed
and pulled the light blanket up to my chin.
"Heather, I come from a broken home, I pop pills to sleep, so if the
building burns down, please drag me out."
"No problem, I take sleeping pills sometimes too. I think it goes with the
territory around here," her voice said thoughtfully from the darkness. I
decided that she was a pretty level-headed girl when she wasn't trying to be a
pervert.
"I've... I've never been in a girl's school before, is it scary? I mean,
I've heard it's like a reformatory."
"Naw, hell no. The girls here are fine, well most of them anyway. There
are always a few sluts around wherever you go. We have our share, I guess.
But I'm pretty much left alone, to rough for most of them. You know what I
mean?"
"I guess."
"I grew up on a dairy farm, I could pound a 1500 pound cow into the cement
for kicking me, and not bat an eyelid. Compared to that, these girls ain't
much. You just stick with me until you learn your way around, and don't join
any groups, you wouldn't know what you were joining until it was too late.
Trust me on that."
"Ok," I said, too tired to ask questions. The pills were starting to take
effect.
I had wonderful dreams that night of warm, soft lips caressing my body,
exploring the private depths of my womanhood in a careful, knowing way.
In my dreams it was a handsome brown-haired boy. He kissed his way down my
chest to my privates, then began probing my inner depths with his hot, stiff,
tongue. I withered under his ministrations, feeling an orgasm building in my
loins until I exploded in his mouth. He held his mouth over my pussy until
my orgasm died, then gently licked my inner thighs and left.
I couldn't ever remember having such realistic dreams before. I woke up
happy and totally fulfilled.
"Boy, you're chipper this morning," Heather said as she came out of the
bathroom, drying her hair. She was wearing a very respectable linen bathrobe.
She looked nice, with all her makeup washed off. Kind of young and fresh.
"I had wonderful dreams and a wonderful night's sleep," I said
enthusiastically. "If I can sleep like that every night, I might actually
enjoy it here," I said as I tossed a pile of jeans on the bed near my pillow.
I took out my underpants and stockings, carrying them to the top drawer. I
kept out one pair for changing after my shower. I turned and found Heather's
bare ass staring me in the face. She was pulling on her panties. She turned
and found me staring open-mouthed.
"What?"
"I'm... I'm not used to changing in front of others," I stumbled over my
own words, trying not to blush so hard.
"You get used to it around here. Besides, we are roommates, where else can
we change, in that little stall they call a bathroom? I've had suitcases
bigger than that."
"Oh, it's all right, I just wasn't expecting it. I've never seen a girl's
bare... well, you know," I said in embarrassment.
"Pussy?"
"Yeah," I admitted, turning completely red and turning away quickly.
"Relax, this is the land of pussies. No men allowed here, nothing but
female flesh for a far as you can see. I like it."
"I'm sure I'll get used to all this, but I led a rather sheltered life.
Boy, what a shock," I said with a half-laugh.
"I'm famous for that. Shocking people is my trademark."
"What are you doing today?" I asked, trying to cover my embarrassment?
"Shopping. I can't survive without those batteries."
"You were serious about that?"
"You bet. How do you survive without a vibrator?"
"Heather!"
"Don't Heather me, you're 18 so how do you manage?"
"I take long showers and let the water hit me down there, sometimes," I
felt like dying for admitting it, but she was so persistent.
"And you don't use your finger? Well?" she asked after a long pause.
"Yes, I use it sometimes," I roughly admitted as I grew a little angry.
"So why not try something much better?"
"They might catch it in my drawer."
"Who, the matrons around here? I can take you to any of their rooms and
show you a vibrator in each dresser. You don't believe me? I've seen them, I
used to clean rooms here when I was new."

We hit the town, shopped, and had a leisurely lunch in a little cafe. It
was a nice day and Heather was acting like a human, for a change. She only
seemed to become a pervert in our room. I wondered if she might be a lesbian,
but since I never knew one, and didn't know exactly what a lesbian was, I had
no way of knowing.
We ate at the school cafeteria. It was filled with girls from 8 to 18. I
had never seen so many girls packed into one small room before. Heather said
it was surprising to find so many girls still at school on a Saturday. After
eating we went back to our room. I was totally exhausted from a day of nearly
non-stop walking. For the first time in years, I decided that I wouldn't need
a sleeping pill that night. Exhaustion would be all the pill I needed. After
the exotic dreams of the night before, I couldn't wait to get to sleep.
"Night, Heather," I said as I snuggled under the sheets and felt my eyes
drooping.
"Night, sweetie. Did you take your pill already?"
"Yeah," I lied, to tired to discuss it with her. Besides, it really wasn't
any of her business.
The dreams began again, shortly after I fell asleep. I distantly
remembered Heather calling softly from the darkness, but I was too tired to
respond. Before I knew it, I was feeling the soft lips caress my inner thighs,
moving up to my warm mound in teasing little kisses. When the mouth made
contact with my panties, chewed and sucked gently, my eyes flew open when I
realized that it was more than a dream. There was a real person between my
legs, mouthing the wet crotch of my panties. I could feel the cool air on my
body, so I knew I had kicked the blanket off in my sleep. Or they had taken it
off.
I gasped slightly in horror, about to cry for help, but I realized that if
I cried out girls would come running into the room and find me in this
compromising situation. I didn't even want to wake Heather, because if I did I
would never hear the last of it. I slowly turned my head and looked at
Heather's bed. It was empty! It didn't take much to figure out where Heather
was. The little pervert was between my legs.
I bit my lip, restraining my moans of pleasure. It was all I could do to
keep my body still while her hot mouth sucked on my panties. Heather suddenly
paused and a careful finger plucked at the crotch of my panties, pulling the
crotch out and aside. In a moment her mouth made full contact with my pussy.
I felt electric shocks run through my body from the soft warm kiss on my mound.
It was the most wonderful thing I had ever felt. It reminded me of the
pleasant dreams I had the night before. Then I realized that those dreams had
probably been real too. Heather had eaten me in my sleep, then calmly went
shopping with me the next day as if nothing had happened. The little bitch!
Heather's tongue began to play in my wet folds of flesh and I arched my
back in pleasure. Her tongue snaked through my wet envelope, then plunged deep
inside me. It wiggled around for a moment, then began plunging in and out like
a small prick. I had the terrible urge to spread my legs wider and hump my
mound against her mouth, but with much restrain I managed to lay still.
The sound of her licking me was loud in the room. I bit my lip and endured
the loving attack on my crotch in silence. Heather moved up slightly and began
flicking her tongue over my clit. I restrained a scream of pleasure, tensing
my muscles to keep from moving. She suddenly stopped. I felt like screaming
and forcing her mouth against my pussy, but I waited in silence.
"How long have you been awake?" she suddenly asked and pulled the sheet up
off my feet until she was free of it. She sat up and looked at me in the
darkness. I could see the contours of her face by the light of the distant
street light coming from across the road. She suddenly reached out and turned
on the light.
"Since the beginning. How did you know?"
"Because you went wild in your sleep last night, you haven't moved tonight,
but you're juicy as hell. You didn't take your pill, did you?"
"No, I didn't need it, I was exhausted."
"Damned. Are you mad?"
"No, I'm horny as hell. I hate to be impolite, Heather, but can you finish
me before I take a stick to you?"
"Sure," she laughed and slid back between my legs. "But it won't be as
much fun as raping you in your sleep."
It was more fun for me, because I could move around and moan as much as I wanted.
She plunged her tongue up inside my loins and sucked at the entrance of my vulva.
I realized she was drinking my juices. This seemed both vulgar, and very erotic.
I squirmed under her loving tongue and warm lips. In a moment she concentrated
on flicking my clit. My body jerked with each flick of her tongue. I reached
down and rumpled her hair, while pulling her face tighter into my crotch.
"Is this called... eating?" I managed to asked.
"Yeah, sweetie, it sure is," she paused for a moment, then plunged back
into my pussy.
"Do I taste good, Heather?" I panted with my head thrown back and eyes closed.
I don't know why, but the question seemed important at the time.
"Absolutely delicious," she sighed, then nibbled at the lips of my pussy,
pulling them out with her lips. "The sweetest little virgin pussy I've ever tasted."
She moved to the very top of my pussy and licked my pee hole. I never realized that it was so sensitive.
"Yes," I gasped into the darkness. "Oh yes, do it some more."
She licked my pee hole for a long time, then moved her lips to encompass my clit and sucked savagely. I gasped and humped my sex against her face. She clamped onto my thighs with her hands, spreading them wide and opened her lips wider, engulfing my entire pussy. Then she sucked and licked my clit at the same time with my entire pussy filling her mouth.
She stopped suddenly and I cried out at being abandoned at the brink of
orgasm.
"Turn over," she commanded.
"What?"
"Turn over, I want to do your ass."
"My ass? Are you sure?" I asked, slightly revolted.
"Either turn over or I go back to my bed," she said, beginning to get up.
"Ok," I said quickly. I pulled one foot forward to I could get it around Heather.
She waited and began her oral attack while my ass was still in the air. I could
feel her tongue probing my sensitive, puckered little hole. I screamed into the blankets as I clenched the blankets tightly in my fists. Her tongue was just beginning to penetrate my tight little ring when she switched and began licking
my pussy again. A gasped and panted, mashing my sweet ass back against her busy mouth. She clamped her lips onto the bottom of my fleshy little envelope and
sucked brutally. I knew I would have a hickey there in the morning. I was being marked by my lesbian lover.
The mixed pain and pleasure was just too much. The boiling waves of orgasm struck me suddenly. I felt myself stiffening, then I jerked upright on the bed
and mashed her face between my legs as my crotch jerked. I suddenly threw myself back on the bed and thrashed. Her loving mouth stayed glued to my pussy until my orgasm finally slowed and died. I was so exhausted that I couldn't move.
She kissed her way down my thighs, then down my leg to my ankle and reluctantly stood, looking down at me.
"You look like a sweet little angel," she said with a warm smile.
"I feel like I'm in heaven," I said contentedly.
"Let me know if I can do anything else for you," she waved and went back
to her bed. I felt I should repay her kindness, but I wasn't ready for that yet.
In a moment I heard the unmistakable sounds of a vibrator coming from her side
of the room. She was taking care of herself.

Kris's Challenge

Background

While messaging online (That was on Friday 10th March btw), a friend and I were discussing how I’d tried a lot of things and that I was always thinking of something new to try. I asked Kris to give me a challenge and this is what he came up with.

The Challenge

Go out, dressed as a guy, and chat up girls…and try to pull one. (Oh yeah, to you people who might not know. In England, to pull someone is to successfully ask them out, or home).

Sounds easy enough right? I did it but it was complicated to organize and really, really hard to get the guy thing right. See what happened.

What Happened

Setting up
Something like this needs some planning. Can you imagine if I just threw on some guy’s clothes and went out on the street? “Hey, that chick’s dressed like a guy.”

First thing, I called an old mate Patrick. He’s a make-up artist for TV and movies and stuff. It took about two hours (you reading this Mr Challenge Man?) of make-up and some artificial stubble, strapping my tits down, and all kinds of other bollocks to make me passable as a fella. Then Patrick had to teach me how to move like a guy. Now, as you’ve probably guessed, Patrick is gay. That’s a gimme. Well, he may be gay but he’s not a girly gay. If you didn’t know or had your gaydar switched off you’d think he was straight, not macho straight but a regular guy.

So, he watched me walk, laughed and slapped his forehead. Over the next hour or so he coached me. By the end he seemed happy enough that I could get away with it for a night, maybe a few hours. The voice was next. My voice is soft but not that breathless, brain-dead model soft. I can drop it a bit and growl, specially when I’m horny. Patrick pretty much told me that if horny worked to lower my pitch, then think horny. I’m laughing as I write this part coz, come on, how hard do you think it is for me to think horny? It’s my natural state. Come on, Patrick, what kind of dick are you? Duh!

Last bit was what to wear. That part was easier. Just standard guy going out to dance gear. Yeah yeah, I hear you but really, how much trouble does your average guy go to? Just chuck on whatever’s nearby. A cap to hide my rolled up hair and ready. Sorted.

On the town

I had to travel pretty far from home coz people know me around here and I didn’t want to get tumbled right at the start. How the fuck am I going to get away with this? Anyway, I found a club that was pretty packed and figured I’d better get into the whole thing or else I was going to freak and bail. First off I grabbed a lemon stolly then thought “Oh fuck!”, ditched the chick drink and got a lager. How do you know how to do this shit when you’ve never done it before? How does a guy pull? Then it came to me. Fuck it, I’ve been pulled that many times, I just gotta like reverse it.

The first coupla chicks give me the “oh please!” look and turn away. Yeah, it’s funny how good you get at ignoring guys when you’re in a club with your mates. When it’s late it’s worse coz they’re all pissed (drunk) and it’s harder to get em to take no for an answer. So I’m there and scoring a big zero, but I keep trying. Sorry guys. You must think we’re the biggest bitches but look at it from our point of view. A hundred dicks with fellas attached wandering about trying to get a fuck before the music stops and there’s us, looking to them like we’ve got a huge sign over our heads saying ‘FUCK ME’.

Anyway, I found one chick who was a little pissed herself and started chatting. She was slurring her words a bit and she kept saying how I was soooo sensitive and not like other guys. We wound up snogging a bit but after a while she got up to go for a piss and just didn’t come back.

Now it was getting late. I was standing around thinking I didn’t care if I pulled or not. It’s a challenge, not a contract so sorry Kris, I’m outta here. Up went the bottom of my glass of lager, the fifth or sixth of the night, I lost count, downed like water. OK, home time. I’m almost out the door, feeling the cold air blasting in from the windy street outside and I see this sad looking chick sitting by herself at a table in a darkened corner by the door. She looks up, gives me one of those downhearted “oh hi” kind of smiles and drops her eyes back to the glass in front of her. She’s picking at her fingers and really looking empty. Just another depressed chick I think. Probably dumped by her boyfriend or stood up. Who knows? When you go to as many clubs as me you see it all the time and these chicks wind up being as familiar as the long bar or the thumping music.

I think ‘why not’ and gesture to sit down. She gives me that ‘whatever’ kind of sideways flick glance and goes back to examining her glass.

“I’m Chris” I say

“Julie…Jules” she replies.

“Drink?”

“Yeah, alright…” Her eyes brighten a tiny bit “…Baileys and milk” Her voice carries no enthusiasm but at least she’s talking.

“Be right back” I say and wade through the dicks and chicks back to the bar.

When I get back she seems to have gotten her shit together a bit and actually smiles at me. She thanks me when I hand her the drink and we make conversation. Turns out she was supposed to meet her boyfriend Rick here but he phoned her about twenty minutes before I saw her to say he wasn’t coming. Something to do with a car and some weed. He pulls this shit all the time according to Jules. She wants to dump him but “…you know?” Yeah, I know. She’s got a dipshit for a boyfriend but at least she’s got one. This kind of sad bullshit goes on every day. Chicks hanging around coz they’re too fucking down on themselves to imagine they’re worth more than the crap they’re handed. So there she is, sitting at a table in the corner of a trance-thumping club feeling sorry for herself and trying to find the strength to get up and go home.

It takes a while but after the usual “…so what do you do?...” chat, she puts her hand on mine and says “I really like you. Thanks for talking to me.” Thanks! Like I’m doing her a favour. This chick really needs to get some bottle. No wonder her boyfriend treats her like shit.

Long story a bit shorter, I ask her if she’d like to come home with me. She makes a show of hesitating and “How can I, I’ve got a boyfriend…” and then says yes, of course.

Once in the door of my flat, she lunges at me like a hungry wolf and we wind up on the bed. We’re kissing and grinding at each other and I’m running my hands all over her body. I can feel she’s wet, right through her knickers. She’s panting and groaning and the temperature in the room is getting to critical.

Then she puts her hand between my legs and everything stops.

Her eyes go through about a thousand emotions in the blink of an eye. First, confusion, then fear, anger, more confusion, then outrage.

She says something about not being like that and wriggles around a bit, making her way off the bed and then I touch her wet pussy again. She raises her hand to slap my hand away but instead she pushes it harder against her. I pull her back towards me again and the look in her eyes again cycles, but this time it goes from confusion, to resignation, then to lust.

Jules fucks my hands until she cums, and cums within seconds strangely enough. She overcomes her prejudice quickly and we spend the next few hours bringing each other to climax after climax. The first time her tongue rubbed against my pussy was the first time she’d ever done anything at all like that with a woman. Even when she was a kid, she told me, she’d never felt any kind of desire to even try it. By the end of the night I think she was converted.

She asked if I’d be her girlfriend if she fucked Gary, her boyfriend, off but Christ, the last thing I need is some chick who attaches herself to the next thing that comes along. She rings me every day and just about an hour ago, while I was in the middle of writing this, she called to say she’d dropped Gary coz she’s met this “…really nice girl who thinks I’m lovely…” Shit, she sure loves riding that roundabout. I hope this chick she met isn’t just a female copy of Gary but she probably is. Some chicks never learn.

So Kris, I did it. Anyone got another challenge? Once I get over this flu, I’m ready to take the next challenge.

©.2006, Lisa
http://lisa-scribbles.blogspot.com/

Christmas Party

They met at a Christmas dinner party. It was boring. Milling around the snack table she sipped on hot apple cider and waited impatiently for a respectable amount of time to pass before she bailed on her best friend. It was this best friend who introduced her to an average looking man with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a deep indigo that was crystal sharp and mysterious at the same time.
“Evie, meet Malcolm, hon, and keep him entertained while I feed the masses.” Jo gave them a huge grin and eased away quickly, already zeroing on guests with a platter full of pigs-in-a-blanket.
Malcolm smiled faintly, nodded, saluted her with his eggnog, and took a sip. She responded in kind, running out of apple cider and taking the opportunity to escape.
“Out of juice–“
”What a trip, two feet away,” he remarked, and caught off guard, she half laughed and looked back at him from the midst of her turn.
“Well, you’ve got to be willing to travel to far off places for the best cider in the world.”
She leaned over the heated punch bowl, serving herself. When he spoke, his voice was much closer.
“What’s so special about the cider?”
She looked up at him over her shoulder, directed with the serving spoon. “It’s in the cinnamon. And the dash of cocaine.”
“Ahh, nothing like a cider high.”
Pleased that he was keeping up with her, she turned back, this time with a faint smile of her own.
“I bet that eggnog is rockin’.”
He looked down at it, and delivered her with a suave salesman’s grin. “Why, indeed it is. Indeed ... it is.”
That earned a mild laugh from her, to which he saluted her again and downed his eggnog, the empty plastic cup lined with a coating of cream.

They sat side by side on the piano bench, facing outward and watching the innocent bystanders.
“You go to this stuff often?” He asked.
She snorted. “Only when Jo’s hosting them.”
He looked over at her. “Jo’s always hosting them.”
The irony in her voice dripped all over them. “I know.”

“And you always have to keep random males entertained?” He was now straddling the bench, facing her, and she faced him. Between them sat Jo’s cat, a large cream colored thing with a hint of orange.
Evelyn sighed dramatically, her eyes on the cat’s own hypnotic amber pair. The cat was a quiet type, who rarely spoke. He lifted his chin for her to scratch.
“Yes, and the requisite one night stand.”
His own hand was playing with the cat’s tail. It moved up the cat’s haunches to the ears, his finger tips sliding across them delicately. The cat was purring heavily, head twisting and turning to meet both hands, while above him his admirers continued to speak.
“Many of those in a year, then? What’s your average?”
“Countless.” Her eyes lifted to meet his for a moment, and found his own dark, and heavy, upon her.
“Meaning zero, then,” he said, and she gave a chuckling, self-deprecating smile in return.
“Exactly.”

“Why zero, then?” He asked leaning against Jo’s closed patio doors.
It was too cold outside to wander out there, but the warmth inside of bodies, talking, and the fire going in the fireplace made it tempting. Evelyn closed her eyes and rested her right temple against the window pane.
“How should I know?” Her voice was soft.
He leaned closer to hear it. When he spoke, she felt his voice rumble through the window pane.
“I know.”
She opened her eyes. His looked into hers, entirely mild, his expression benign. He was not a stunningly handsome man. He wasn’t ugly, either. He was at least six feet tall and had an air of composure that was non-threatening and at the same time ... provocative.
“Do you?” She asked, humor sliding back into her voice. She looked out through the glass, to the night beyond, then lifted her head.
“I do.” He nodded once, as if musing, and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the glass.
“Know what?”
“What you know and won’t say.”
She grinned, mouth sly. “Why on earth should I tell you what’s none of your business?”
“You’ve made it my business.”
She laughed in amused shock. “Have not!”
“Have, too.” For most who would say this phrase, it would have been a whine. He said it in an entirely new way to her, in a way that made her almost believe she’d done exactly what he said.
She shook her head, stepped away, looked back at the party. Things were thinning out.
“Time to go.”
“Where’s your coat?”
Startled, she looked back at him and found herself at a loss.
“You know, the warm big thing that you wear before you go outside,” he reminded her. He wore a hint of a smile on his lips, a slight smirk.
“I know what a coat is! I just don’t want to tell you where.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d want to put it on me.”
“And?” He stepped abreast of her. She backed off lightly.
“And then you’d want other things.”
“Like?” He didn’t step closer but he didn’t need to. His smile spoke volumes. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
Exasperated with him, she finally chose to walk away. “All the things that I won’t say.”

“Evie, where are you going?!” Jo was irritated, catching her as she made her way out of the bathroom.
“Home! Why?” She let Jo take her aside in the hallway.
“Why?!” Her friend began to work her expressive eyes and brows. “That man I brought to your feet is a catch, hon. I hand you steak on a platter and you refuse it?”
“I’m not hungry.” Eve shut the bathroom door and took a few steps.
“Bullshit. I know him from work. I mentioned him to you. I saw the glint in his eye when I mentioned you. So I invited him. And he actually came. He won’t come again, I bet.”
“How do you know? And why should I care?” Eve made for the hall closet.
“Cause he’s a good man.”
“How the hell could you know that? What does being a good man have to do with coming again?” Suddenly realizing what coming again could imply, Eve couldn’t help herself and laughed. It took a beat, but Jo caught on.
“Pervert. See, don’t lie about not wanting any, I know how you work.” Jo smacked her hip with the Christmas-themed kitchen towel in her hand and pointed back toward the inside of the house.
“You can’t leave him like that. That’s just rude. Let him take you home.”
“I drove, Jo.” Eve had reached the hall closet and had her hand on the knob.
“So?” Jo hissed, realizing her voice was climbing and not wanting to be heard. “I’ll come get you tomorrow.”
“No.” Her voice was pleasant but brooked no argument. Evie now stood in the open doorway of the hall closet staring at the piles and racks of coats. She stepped inside, looking around with a slow ease. It was a large closet, at least four feet square. She reached a hand out to cut on the light with the switch on the wall to the right of her. She took her time, eyeing each coat, her gaze running over the fabrics. Eventually she spoke up.
“Jo ... did you chain my coat up any place in particular in this dungeon?”
Just then, she realized Jo was no longer behind her as a much taller presence, entirely male, stood immediately behind her.
“I’m sure we can play that game later. I’ve got equipment at home. But Jo’s gone to serve some cranberry muffins. She wanted me to help you find your coat.” Malcolm’s voice was low, but pleasant.
Afraid to turn around, Eve held still and spoke slowly.
“How on earth could you two have reached that decision in utter silence?”
“Cause, unlike some people, Jo seems to know when to keep her mouth shut.”
She felt his arm move as the door shut. She swallowed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shoulder, the cotton of his button-up shirt. She didn’t move.
“Need a little more light in here to find what you’re looking for, don’t you think?” He finally said, and his hand reached out, snapping off the light.
In the dark, she could only hear their breathing, and despite herself, she was getting turned on. Her skin felt alive, sensitive, and when he next spoke his voice rumbled beside her ear, so that she gasped and began to turn away.
“Hush, Eve, or someone will hear you,” he said, his voice smiling.
“Jesus Christ, what do you take me for?” She muttered, and in the utter dark she reached out, her hand searching for the doorknob. She found his stomach instead, and trying to move around it was trapped by his hands.
“I’ll take you in every way you want me to,” he said, holding her as she squirmed, pulling back and away, pressing into the darkness.
“Come on, let go, this isn’t funny.”
“Of course not, it isn’t supposed to be.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because this is one of the things you want, but won’t say.”
“Oh, don’t do me any favors,” she said.
“Too late.”

In a brief moment she managed to free a hand but before she could get to the doorknob he cuffed her roughly with his fingers around her wrist. A free hand locked the door, and she heard the click, then froze.
“Please. Don’t. Someone will come, they’ll need their coat.”
“Not for a long while. The evening’s young.”
“People have kids, they need to go to bed early.”
“All of those people have already left.”
She tried to think of another excuse. “Jo won’t appreciate us molesting her guests’ coats.”
“No, but she’ll appreciate me molesting you.”
“What? She said that!” Her own voice had become terse and fierce, and in the darkness she couldn’t have felt more vulnerable. But she had to pull herself together.
“Calm down, Eve.”
“No. I can’t. Not when you’re–“
”Giving you what you want?”
“You have no idea what I want.”
“I have every idea.”
“Do you know how many men think they do? This world is full of overconfident asses–“
”Mine is entirely delectable.”
At that, she started to laugh, then choked it back.
“Please. I’ll give you my phone number. How about that? We’ll meet for some coffee. Sometime.”
“For you, that’s never.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
“Spare me. All of what, four hours?”
“I’ve heard things.”
“Yeah, Jo said, but still, how much can a little office chitchat really cover?”
“Certainly less than the past four hours.” His hands remained clamped around her wrists, but he stepped closer. When she backed away, he pulled her forcibly to him.
“You’re not even asking permission.”
“Because you don’t want me to.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You’ll be calling out to God soon enough.”
“Cocky, aren’t we?”
“I am. Extremely. Though I don’t think you’ve got the equipment required.”
She laughed again, quietly this time. Her energy to fight him was waning. She flexed her wrists in his grip, felt his heat against the length of her body. Her hands were held in a weird position between them, against his chest.
“Maaalcolm,” she murmured, trying to work her hands free.
“Eeeeve,” he responded, bending close to her. She felt his breath, sweet, and it tangled with hers in a way that tried to pull her to his lips.
“What do you want?” The question slipped too easily from her lips, light as a breath, but he caught it.
“You,” was his simple answer, and she should have known it, but she shook her head, smiling.
“You just want to get laid.”
“As do you. Stop avoiding the topic at hand.”
“I’m not. The topic is my escape.”
“But you’re not going anywhere.”
“Says who?”
“You. You don’t want to.”
“Wrong. I absolutely want out.”
“Then scream. Kick me. Fight.”
“I don’t want to make a scene.”
“Then you don’t want to fight.”
“I am fighting.”
“Delaying the inevitable.”
She growled.
“I like that,” he said. “Do it again.”
“Kiss my ass,” she replied.
His hands suddenly released hers, and swiftly went down to grip the ass she spoke of, squeezing roughly. “I will. Here?”
His fingers traced outlines through her wool skirt on her left cheek.
“Or here?” He started to move to her right but now freed, she pushed against him - but tripped on something by her feet and started to go down.
In the darkness his arms tangled with hers, reaching. He grabbed her but slid himself, falling onto the pile of coats, their breathing heavy and low, and in trying to get up again, she was caught by his hands and arms once more. He pinned her to him from beneath her, her breasts against his chest, her face inches away from his.
“You need to give in, honey, cause I’m almost out of patience.”
“Definitely not the man for me, I require olympic amounts of patience.”
“I noticed.”
Sighing again in frustration, she planted the leather boots she wore to either side of him and began to push away. Catching on, he grabbed one foot, yanked it, and down she went again. This time he took the opportunity to roll on top of her.
“Ah,” he said, as she breathed, chest heaving beneath the hot air from his mouth, “this is what you want.”
“Let go,” she replied, holding very still. He was aroused. She felt his heat through his slacks, pressing into her abdomen, through the thick fabric of her skirt.
Instead of obeying, he settled himself more firmly atop her, reaching one hand down to trail along her hip. He settled there, gripping her firmly.
“Eve, hon, you on the pill?”
“Oh my god,” she said, a sudden wave of panic hitting, and she struggled for real then, her legs kicking, arms flailing. She shook her head, whispering, begging, pleading to be freed, and then his whole body crushed her, held her flat as she squirmed, his hand gripped her chin, and his mouth landed hard on her own.
The kiss sucked air. Like a vacuum, he stole her breath, and smashed her lips, hammering at her, and when she was forced to open wider to take in more air his tongue thrust in, raped hers, stole kiss after kiss until they were gasping, her hands clutching the coats, her knees welded shut.
“Eve, open,” he commanded, and she shook her head no. Growling himself, his hand went down, yanked hard on the edge of her skirt and pulled it up, and as she began to struggle again his lips suddenly went soft. His tongue, light, twirled with hers, slid across her teeth and gums and back out.
“Open, Eve,” he whispered, “open.”
She moaned back a rejection, but at that moment his tongue sild in again and pulled lightly, tugged sweetly, on her own. His teeth caught the tip of her and sucked her gently, then harder, to him, and surprised, her breath caught.
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he said, releasing her tongue, his lips finding her chin, her neck, her ear.
She shuddered, hearing his words, now drugged by his weight, his taste, the force of his desire. His cock pushed, dug into flesh, insistent. Her sex was hot, wet, yet her knees remained clamped.
“Then I’m going to make love to you,” he added, his hands reaching up to find the buttons to her blouse. He began undoing them, one by one. “I’ll fill you up. Pump you full of me.”
She closed her eyes, listened to his voice whisper around her, deep and low, smelled his scent, his cologne, his salty skin, the cloth of his pants against the inside of her thighs.
“I’ll make you beg me for more. You like to beg. I can tell that. You like to play victim while I tell you all the terrible, naughty things I’m going to do to you.”
“You can’t tell anything,” she whispered.
“You like to fight, but you’re a liar.”
“Am not,” she whispered.
“Are, too,” he answered, and on the last button, he exposed her breasts in their lace bra to the cool air. “Too, too beautiful.”
Their eyes had grown used to the darkness and she could make out shadows, shapes. Her bra was white, and in the darkness she could see his head bending over it. His lips met her skin and she sighed, kneading the coats beneath her with her hands, her breath weaving, drunk, around her.
“Wonder how she tastes,” he murmured, and his fingers pulled her from her casing. His fingertips found hard nipples; making a sound of approval, he dove, captured, and sucked hard, pulling a gasp from her.
In the dark her fingers found his hair, tangled, pulled him closer.
“Does my Eve like to be sucked hard?” He whispered, and a low groan of answer prompted him to do just that.
“What if someone comes?” She said eventually, foggy headed, thinking of intruders in pursuit of winter coats.
“Both of us will enjoy it,” he said, and confused, she frowned, then gasped again as he tugged on her with his teeth. His hands slid down to her skirt again, landing on her knees.
“But first I need to get you open.”
“Impossible,” she said, smug.
“I’m a superhero, didn’t I tell you?” He replied. His warm hands slid along the crevice her thighs made, working her, teasing her.
She shivered, and in that moment his hands slid in, forcing space. She clamped herself around him so that he couldn’t go higher.
“Give it up, Eve, I’m going to win.”
“Never.” She smiled at him in the darkness. “You wish.”
“No, I know.”
He set to prying her open. He was stronger than her and did, indeed, win. She gave a cluck of frustration.
“That’s more like it,” he said, heaving a sigh and fixing himself between her legs before she could close them again. “Now, where were we?”
“About to end,” she said, and he chuckled quietly.
“Yeah, right. But I admire your stubbornness.”
“As a mule.”
“I’m about to ride you like a mule. Get ready.”

His fingers slid down between where their hips met. She wore panty hose. He knelt, trapping her with the vice of his legs right under her thighs and buttocks, her legs spread wide. His hands gripped the fabric, until he tore a hole big enough for his purposes. Leaning back above her, he began on himself. She heard him unbuttoning, then unzipping. A slight rustle of fabric. Then his hands returned to the triangle between her legs and found the lining of her panties. He tugged on them. They were too firm to tear. He pulled them to the side then, and she, exposed, reached out suddenly for his hands.
“I’m afraid,” she said, her voice soft, scared.
“I know,” he answered. In the silence, his hand took hers and he bent. His lips brushed her fingertips. “I know what you want. I’m giving it to you. There’ s nothing scarier in the world than getting what you asked for.”
“You won’t–“
”No, I’m not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to.”
“Please ....”
“Hush, Eve, it’s time.”

He gently set her hand away. Spread wide, she could smell herself, the musk of her sex. She knew she was wet, her panties had been damp and now, his fingertips, large, played with the lips, slid around to find her clit, fat and slick. She moaned, teased, and he slid the fingers down, found her opening and slid in a finger. She was soaking. He moaned in answer, then felt around inside her, her tightness, her grip. She squeezed him. Moments later, he slid in another finger, and she sighed, lifted her hips in a tiny, revealing motion that made him sigh in return.
“Fuck them Eve, like you will me.”
She complied. She met his fingers with slow, easy strokes, and when he added a third she shuddered, gripped them as well as she could, pushed her hands against the coats again and worked to meet his attentions. She heard a rustle, then, felt the thrusting release of his cock against her thigh. He leaned closer. It pressed just below and to the side of her sex, as he fingerfucked her. She bit her lip, frantic now, wet and needy.
“Malcolm-“
”Tell me what you want, Eve.”
“My mouth, in my mouth, please–“
He pulled away from her. His fingers slid out with a slurp and she missed them terribly. In the darkness she reached out and he grabbed her by the hands, brought her to his chest. His lips pressed against her brow.
“You want to suck on me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a good little cocksucker, Eve?”
She couldn’t help herself, her enthusiasm escaped her. “Ohhh ... yes.”
“I want you to eat me like you’ve never eaten any cock before. You understand me?”
“Yes, Malcolm.”
He leaned back, and she felt for him, found his thick, hungry weapon spearing the air and impatient to choke upon him lunged and took him whole. He gasped, cursed slightly, his fingers finding her hair, tangling, pulling her insistently down.
“Show me how well you suck cock, Eve, I want to feel the back of your throat.”
She gave it to him. Gagging, salivating, she pumped down upon his head, her tongue alternately sliding around the helmet of his sex, delighting in the shape, the length, the veins, the tiny puckered hole at the tip. His smell drove her mad. He smelled sweet, delicate, rough. She buried her face in him.
His breathing was low, slow, and drunken, becoming hectic when she found a sweet spot, dreamy in a fog around her that made her wetter with each groan, each encouraging whisper, each yes, right there, ooh, yes, again ... She pulled sounds from him that were disbelieving, shocked, arrogantly pleasured. Her hands supported her on either side of him as she worked him, milked him, and just when he moved faster, coming close, she pulled away.
“Not yet,” she said, triumphant, her mouth swollen and slick with her saliva and his juices. She licked her lips, swallowed her makeshift lubricant.
“Mmm, what a tease,” he answered, and he sat up, moved for her. “My turn.”

On her back, through torn hose and pushed aside panties, she felt his tongue flicker around her clit, spelling ancient runes and insistent on teasing her in return. His hot breath on her sex drove her crazy, and she bucked to meet him, and almost screamed when his fingers joined in.
“I think this pussy likes me,“ he said, his own lips wet, and he rose to kiss her, giving her her taste. She smiled, took the kiss, found his hand and brought it to her again.
“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “No more games.”

He pulled his fingers away. She felt his sex again, damp from sucking and held her breath as he guided the tip in a thorough exploration of her vulva - her clit, the lining of her outer lips, down along the length of her inner lips, coating the head in her arousal.
“You ready, Eve?”
“Yes, please, Malcolm.”
“How ready?”
“You can feel.”
“Tell me.” He spoke while continuing to slide himself around the entrance, kneeling before her, teasing.
“Soaking - wet - I need it - now.”
“What else?”
Silence. She lay beneath him, panting, out of her mind, and incoherent. She struggled to pull suitable words together.
“What else, Eve?” His voice was firm, quiet.
“Please ... ?”
“Good girl.”

He came inside. No, he stole inside, took what he knew she needed taken. She squealed, raised her shaking hands to cover her own mouth in shock as he filled, filled, filled her to the brim, inching in slowly until his balls pressed against the underside of her open pussy.
“Tight, Eve, fucking tight, oh, you weren’t kidding about zero.” Straining, he leaned over her, his breath hot and low in her ear. His final words were wicked, smug and expectant as ever. “We’ll have to make up for lost time.”
But she had no reply. She could only make noises, grunts, as he filled her, pulled out, filled her again. He finally gave her relief, bending close, crushing her, and into his mouth, indulgent, patient, dominating, she whispered her last coherent words.
“Please, please, oh please, fuck me ...”


©.2001, Miriam M. Wynn
http://www.worderotic.com

The Caregiver

"There, Grandma, how's that?" Pete asked, fluffing the pillows behind Mrs. Willow's back.
"I'm not your grandmother, Peter, I am a healthy, desirable woman. At least I was a few years ago."
"Hell, you are almost 80," Pete scoffed.
"Ok, so it's been quite a few years ago. It doesn't seem that long. I could still use a stiff dick between my legs, if you are interested."
"I'm not. I want somebody who as born in this century."
"Peter!" Emma pretended shock, "she would be three years old?"
"Ok, last century," he said with a reluctant laugh. They had been trying to shock each other since they first met. It never worked. She was a slightly older version of Peter himself, only in female form.
"I don't want to be old, Peter. I just lived life one day at a time until I somehow got this way. I'm still young on the inside. As the old joke goes, I'm getting this 20 year old body all wrinkled."
"Even at your age, you are one hot babe, Emma. Why don't you hook up with one of the guys in the complex. I know several who would love to get into your pants, wrinkled or not."
"I tried. I was shocked when I opened my eyes and saw a face as old as mine staring back at me. It sickened me, Peter. I don't want to be old," Emma sighed. "I want to be young again."
"I can help with your aches and pains, dress you, bathe you, I can change your diapers if you start wearing one, but I can't make you young again, old girl."
"I know. Are there any blind male nurses in the complex?"
"Not in any complex. Blind men can't do this job."
"I'm sure they could."
"They can't."
"Oh. What about male whores."
"What?" Pete gasped.
"You know, those gigalors.
"Gigolos," he corrected.
"Yeah, one of them."
"I am not your pimp, I am your nurse. Haul your ass out of here and look for one yourself, you're healthy enough.'
"The world scares me, I don't know it any more. It's all too fast."
"It's the same world, it just has more assholes running around in it."
"I suppose. Peter, can you look at my pussy?"
"Why," he said with a great deal of self- control. It was his job, on a professional level. He knew she was discussing something different.
"Tell me what you think," Emma said, pulling up her night gown. She yanked down her cotton panties and showed him her pussy. Pete glanced at it carelessly, then gave it a careful look.
"It just looks like a pussy," he said in wonder. "Except for a few gray hairs, it looks normal."
"That's what I tried to tell you. It's just a pussy, not a flesh colored prune. Would you fuck that Pete?" she asked slyly.
"If I was really hard up I might."
"Are you?"
"No, I have lot's of action," he said defensively. She laughed, knowing that she was one up on him. She had made him defend his male honor.
"Hey, fuck you," he said.
"Oh, I wish you would, Peter, I need it so badly."
"Damit, stop talking like that. You've got me horny and I have a full days work ahead of me."
"I could take care of that," she laughed.
"Oh no you couldn't," he called, tying a bag of trash and throwing it over his shoulder. "I will see you tomorrow," he said with a fond smile.
"Oh, ok," she said in real disappointment. "Stop by for lunch, if you like. I make a mean grilled bologna sandwich."
"Hey, I loves those things," he gasped.
"It's the most underrated sandwich on earth. You take bread and stick some bologna in it and you have cold meat and half cooked dough. You add some cheese, miracle whip and a little heat, and you have the world's greatest sandwich."
Pete nodded, smiling. "Ok, it's a date. But no funny stuff," he pointed, then waved and left.
"You want to bet," she hissed, turning to hurry to her kitchen unit. The only good thing which went with grilled bologna was cold potato salad. She had to hurry or it wouldn't chill to the proper temperature.
She filled a decanter half full of gin, filled it to the top with orange juice and slid it into the refrigerator. She finished the potato salad at 10:00, wiped her hands on her night gown, and slipped into something more appropriate. Then she started her magic act. She arranged the foundation, eye liner, lipstick and creams, then her secret weapon, Preparation H. After setting them in just the right order, she began remodeling her face. With enough makeup...

The door opened at Pete's second knock. He gave Emma a stunned look, then stepped inside. She was different, somehow younger and more appealing. He didn't know if he approved or not, it seemed... wrong.
"Nice look," he said airily. "Are the sandwiches done?"
"Done and keeping warm in the oven. I also have potato salad and cocktails."
"Wow, the works, huh?"
"Yes, the works," she said, motioning him to the table.
"He took a second, longer look at her face, then shook his head."
"Never judge a woman before you've seen her in makeup," Emma said as she loaded down the table. "It makes a world of difference."
"Yeah, scary."
"And what's scary about it?"
"You look nice, if I didn't know it was makeup..."
"Hey, young man, half the women you've dated would look scary without makeup. I'm no different."
"No, I guess not. You look nice," he repeated again.
"Does that mean you are interested?"
"Well yeah... I mean no. I don't think," he said in confusion.
"Here, drink this," she handed him a glass of orange juice. He took a big gulp, then howled.
"Holy shit, what's in this?"
"Gin. It does wonders for the male... lets say ego," she smiled.
"Let's say libido. I can feel where the heat is going. You are one deceptive old woman," he accused half joking and half in ernest.
"Shut up and eat."
Peter ate, but he couldn't help but stare at Emma. If he didn't know that she was 77, he would have sworn she was in her 40's. He wouldn't eat it, but he'd sure fuck it, the thought crept into his head. His balls had been burning since he drank the gin and orange juice. Successive sips kept the fire burning. But it was a good burn, and his cock was as hard as rock.
Peter had bathed Emma during her bad times, right after her stroke. He knew every age spot, wrinkle, and pimple on her ass. And still he was turned on. Part of it was the gin, part was her disguise, but mostly it was knowing that he could reach out and have her, it was that simple. All he had to do was...
"I need that hand to eat," Emma said with a smile.
"Let's eat afterwards," he whispered.
"Are you sure? I don't want to rush you into anything," she smiled.
"The hell you don't. I am one of the most rushed people on the face of this planet, and you dam well know it."
"Ok. Well here are the ground rules. No kissing below the chin, keep your hands on non-sexual areas, and I don't do ass fucks. Never have and never will."
"Emma!" Pete was shocked.
"Just telling you how it is."
"Do you give blowjobs?" he said with some of his old candor.
"Now why in the hell would I do that? I want to get fucked, why would I suck you off and spoil it? I know damned well, the minute you cum you will be outta her like there's no tomorrow. It's your penis thinking now, your head will want out."
"You are the most crude old..."
"Hey, none of that," she wagged a finger in his face. "Bedroom's that way," she nodded toward the bedroom.
"I know where it is."
He followed her to the bedroom. He wasn't about to kiss her, but she began licking his ear as they both took off his clothing. Emma ramained dressed.
By the time that Peter was naked, he shivering with pent-up passion. Emma stood to take off her panties. Peter noticed how much she was shaking, as she spread her dress wide and sank down to sit straddle of his body. He felt her moist pussy touch his cock. He hissed in appreciation. She sank slowly, impaling herself on his rigid manhood. She sank down until he was up to the hilt, inside her warm pussy. She swiveled slightly to lubricate herself and encourage his cock to slide in more. With her pussy tightly pressed against his pelvis, she slowly rocked forward and back, then slid against his pelvis as it grew wet, with his cock churning the hot juices inside her. He was afraid she would break his penis off, but after a few minutes of uneventful pleasure, he relaxed beneath her. She certainly knew what she was doing.
It was a good fuck, a very good fuck. She grew hot and wet around his cock. By sliding forward and back, rather than rising and lowering, it was intensely pleasurable for her, but less intensive for him. He would last a long time.
"Oh fuck, this is good," Peter gasped.
"It's heavenly. I've dreamed of this for so long. I've had a crush on you since I first saw you, Peter," she said with her eyes closed, feeling her pussy heat up as it hadn't for 15 years or more.
"I'm flattered," he gasped.
"I'm 57 years older than you and I knew I didn't have a change in hell," she said, then gasped as pleasure shot though her loins. She gasped a few more times, then relaxed.
"I knew you did," he said with a grimace of pleasure.
"Oh fuck, I'm coming," she gasped, stiffening again and throwing her head back, while riding faster. Peter was very worried about his cock now. He had heard that some guys got their cocks dislocated this way.
"Oh yes," she gasped, grabbing his chest for support. Peter looked at her passion twisted-face, then down at her rounded chest in the light material of her dress. He just had to feel those breasts, even if they were gross. He reached down and grabbed a cone in each hand. He mashed them lightly as she continued to ride, paying no attention to him. In a moment she gave a light squeal of pleasure, and jerked on his stiff cock. Biting her lip, with her eyes tightly closed, she rode her huge orgasm like a cowboy rides a horse. Swearing and gasping, she jerked sporadically, completely unable to control her body.
Peter could feel her pussy clenching around his cock. It felt awesome, but not strong enough to make him cum yet. He wanted to keep her moving so he could cum, but he knew she would have to rest. Her pussy would grow sensitive when it stopped coming.
"Oh yes," she gasped, still jerking. She suddenly looked down at his hands on her chest. She leaned down and kissed the back of his arm, while slowly grinding to a halt.
"I want to see them," Peter gasped.
"No you don't.
"I do."
"Well I don't want to show them."
"Let me lick your pussy," he said in the throes of passion.
"No, I was never into that, especially not with a young man. You would regret it afterwards. Just be patient, it will be worth the wait."
"Oh God," he gasped, wishing she would ride his cock again. He could feel the heat and juice around his cock, but when he tried to move she held him down. Aching in frustration, he waited helplessly until she slowly began sliding forward and back again. He gasped in pleasure.
"You see, I told you it would be good," she smiled down at him.
"Oh yes, it's very good," he cried, feeling the heat building in his balls. He was just minutes away from a massive orgasm. Either the gin, or the forbidden aspect of the situation, were creating a massive orgasm in his loins. He was going to explode. He was going to cum so big, it would blow her head off. He stiffened and jerked, trying to increase his stimulation. She remained persistently slow and wonderful. Peter knew he had been fucked by somebody who knew what they were doing. He could teach the young girls a thing or two, if he lived through the experience.
"Oh fuck me, I'm going to cum," he gasped. She watched his face, gauged how close he was and inserted a finger into her pussy. Rotating her finger on her clit, she continued to ride while she stimulated herself. Her timing was perfect.
Peter began moaning louder and louder, at the same moment that Emma gasped and took her finger out of her pussy. She leaned forward, supporting her weight with her hands on Peter's chest. Her clit now rubbed against his pubic hair. With her eyes screwed shut she began moaning ever louder, until her cries of passion joined those of Pete.
He yelled and held onto Emma's hips, as he came strongly, shooting hot cum into her pussy. She could feel his offering entering her womb. She continued to rub as long as she could stand it, then froze, hunching her sex against his thick cock.
Grunting and gasping, Peter thrashed his head from side to side, until he finished coming. He relaxed, beaten and exhausted, even though Emma had done all the work. She seemed happy, full of life. She smiled down at him like a Madonna. He suddenly saw her as she must have looked 40 years earlier.
When the glow of her orgasm slowly faded, Emma was just Emma again. But the memory of how she looked during her orgasm remained in Peter's mind.
"Oh shit, I have to get cleaned up and go," Peter gasped.
"You see, it's always the same," she said, shaking her head.
"Same hell, I should have finished three more calls by now, and my head is still spinning from that gin. I get first dibs on the shower," he said, pelting into the bathroom. Emma relaxed on her bed. Her body was still enthused by the warm glow of sex. It didn't matter now if Peter never looked at her again, she had gotten what she desired so badly. Now the object of her desires was about to disappear out that door.
"Have you seen my underwear?" he asked as he hurried back into the room. He lifted the blanket, then surprise Emma with a quick kiss.
"Can I come back after I finish my rounds?" he asked, stepping into his boxers.
"Com... sure," she said in complete shock. "Are you???"
"Yeah, I'm still hungry," he said, misunderstanding her question, "but I can wait. Be back soon," he called, rushing through the door.
Emma sat in shock, considering all that had happened. Slowly a smile lit her face. She rubbed a finger tip across her lips, where his kiss had smeared the lipstick, then hurried into the bathroom. She needed to fix her makeup and shower before he returned.
RETURNED! she thought in amazement. What a wonderful word.

Talk to Me

“You want it?” She says, flashing her bright brown eyes at me.

She says it leaning back between my open legs, my trousers down around my ankles, my tie undone. She’s twenty something, she tells me, but I don’t believe her. I believe that she’s over eighteen, but I think she cherishes her virginity too much.

I’ve been freed. I am announcing my manhood. I can smell her scent, she’s aroused, but she’s cool, even warm and inviting she’s cool, and I have been doubting her honesty ever since I met her.
I put my hand out, lightly trail my fingers between a few brown locks.

“Yes.”


I saw her sitting cross legged at a café - wearing jeans and a t-shirt, rather tame for L.A. The sun was warm, she shone in it, and I got hard as a rock. I was leaning against a car waiting for a friend, but the friend was wasting my time and the girl was there in full view across the street.

She sipped an iced coffee through a straw, occasionally puckering her lips at the cold, and I watched her carefully open up the plastic top, and fish out an ice cube without using her fingers. She worked her tongue around the cup’s lip, until she grabbed the prize, and when she had it, she closed the top again and stared out across the street, her slick ice cube trapped between her perfect teeth.
It glimmered in the sun and she closed her mouth, sucked on it, revealed it again. Her eyes scanned the street, the cars. They landed on me. I did not take my gaze away from her. She closed her mouth, crunched the ice cube to smithereens, and looked back at me mysteriously. She was a mix of frank and vague. I couldn’t tell if she was judging me or interested.

Then she smiled.


I didn’t move. I couldn’t have. At the time, I was afraid she was underage and I didn’t want to risk anything in broad daylight. I was not the type to risk. Though this was L.A., I was the cleaner sort.
She didn’t move for me either. She just continued to sit there, occasionally sipping her iced coffee, gazing back at me. Despite the passing cars, pedestrians, and even a bus or two, our gazes did not move. She held me, trapped, and I had no desire to escape.

The friend came into view and my eyes flickered to him. Her eyes followed. A tiny hint of a smile graced the corners of her mouth revealing dimples. My own mouth began to comply.

The friend crossed the sidewalk smiling at me, reached me, and I turned to greet him. He patted me on the back, said some things. I told him he had me running late, that we needed to get going. He apologized, and went around to the other side. As he got in, I turned to look back at her.
She was still watching, a hint of a smile on her face.


Two weeks later, I sat in my convertible in the sunshine, waiting a block from the café outside a dry cleaner’s, another friend picking up their clothes on the way to the gym. I was tired and had let him do the driving, and was sitting in the passenger seat. My head back on the headrest, my seat belt off, sunglasses on, I dozed.

I felt the car move down with someone else’s weight on my side of the car, and then a warm body - I opened my eyes and lifted my sunglasses to see the girl in shorts and a tank top, who had slipped over my car door and into my lap, and who now sat half on me, half against the door, looking down with that same mysterious smile. I’m wild, her eyes said. I’m tame, her mouth said. My cock was hard against the outside edge of her knee and we both knew it.


I left the friend at the dry cleaner’s. After a moment of staring, neither of us touched, other than to let me get out from under her and slide over to the driver’s side. She then sat down in my place, put on the seat belt, and paid no attention to me as we drove.


I took her the only place I could - home. I realized that might be dangerous, that she could be a psychopathic bitch, but her silence was calming rather than intense. I hoped for the best.

She stepped out of the car without bothering to do the waiting - the prompt for me to be a gentleman and help her out of the car. She leaned back against the car door and waited, as I had for my friend the day we saw each other.

I came around to face her. I stood a foot or so away. She looked at my chest, my tie, and would not meet my eyes.

“Hey,” I said. This drew her eyes up. I smiled. I wanted her to know I wouldn’t hurt her.
Her lips were full and lush, with a little lipgloss. She licked them. She began to smile back, but the smile faded.

“I don’t do this.” Her voice was soft, low, entirely collected, yet horribly vulnerable. She sounded as if she were offering herself up for slaughter, yet at the same time, she was frank. Aware. Aware of the magnitude of what she was doing, the danger.

“Ah,” I replied. I just looked at her. I had not been able to look at her properly in the car - if I had tried, I would have crashed us. I had made myself hold my gaze to the street and the mirrors and to avoid the urge to put my hand between her legs and feel the skin there. She was smooth all over, with little hairs on her legs, she was child-like yet entirely womanly, and I was still concerned about her age.

After a lifetime of standing, with a light swing she fell lightly forward, her forehead butting gently against my chest, her hands grasping my suit sleeves. I felt her glossy hair against my chin, the slight curls. I smelled her. Sweet. Tangy. Fresh.

“Take me inside,” she sighed quietly against my chest, and I felt the heat of her breath through my unbuttoned suit jacket. I swallowed.


She kept a hand tagged onto my suit arm as I walked slowly toward the house. To the door, where I pulled out my keys and then inside. I shut the door, locked it. She watched my hand, followed my every movement.

I turned, walked into the living room. I made for the couch. I sat down. She followed, sliding her legs up onto the cushions, her feet dangling off the edge. Then she heeled them off and slid her socked feet all the way onto the couch, watching me. I stared at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell, the line of her breasts through the soft blue, my eyes on the lines of her face trying to gauge her age.

I finally asked. “How old ...?” I swallowed. A hint of a smile touched her lips again, her large brown eyes trailing from my own, to my chin, to my tie, to my hair.

“Twenty something,” she murmured, and her smile grew wider.

“You’re not lying?”

Her eyes caught mine. They sparkled. I grew harder.

“No.”


I eventually slid out of my jacket, gently laid it over the arm of the couch far away. I sat back down. I was afraid to touch her, to rush her. To scare her away.

“Talk to me,” I said. Her smile came back, growing braver.

“I was going to say the same to you.” Silence. She slid her hand out, and traced the line of my neck. My breath caught. I tried to start it up again inconspicuously, but she heard it. Her smile grew knowing.

“You’re handsome,” she said, and I swallowed. I had been told this type of thing before but I had never been so nervous on hearing it.

“Smooth,” she said, running the backs of her fingers across my brow, so that I closed my eyes, and then trailing it down to my jaw. “And then rough.”

She said the rough with a low sort of barking noise, a play at a bark really, and it was sexy as hell. I swallowed again. I know she heard it, because her smile grew wider.

“Do you like little girls?” She finally murmured, and she eased a little closer, just an inch. My cock was beginning to throb, thrusting against my trousers. I couldn’t dream of lying to her now.

“I don’t touch them, “ I said, but her eyes held mine and on an exhaled breath I whispered, “but I want to.”

Now her smile revealed her sharp little teeth. “Why not?”

I let out a short laugh. “Um, jail?”

She rewarded me with a low chuckle. “What if she wants you to touch her?”

“Lolita?” I asked. She nodded.

Then she said, “She was a fool for walking out on Humbert. She had it made.”

I knew then she wasn’t lying. Twenty-something. And she had pitied Humbert Humbert. She was incredible.

“Would you have stayed?” I asked, my voice low. I couldn’t muster up the strength to make it any louder.

She nodded. Her smile was intoxicating, it came and it went, and now, she lifted her elbow to the edge of the couch and propped her head up. “He was in love with her. She could have taught him things. And he could have taught her.”

I bit my lip. I was trying not to make noises, I didn’t want to unnerve her, but I realized my breathing had grown hectic and that any minute now I’d begin moaning. My cock was tenting my slacks, and I was physical pain - her knees were slid apart, the treasure a hand’s reach away, but any move could scare her. I was not about to force her.

“Will you stay with me?” I asked, my eyes dropping to her breasts. They were large, handfuls, she was all woman. She was emitting a warm, sultry smell and I began to realize that she was horny - her nipples were pressing through her bra, her tank-top, and reaching eagerly for attention. I held my eyes to them, until she followed with her own.

Then, her free hand slid from beside her on the couch to lightly trail across her chest. The teased nipple grew harder. I emitted a tortured sigh.

“Are you this hard?” She asked. Her eyes dropped to my sex. She saw the answer for herself.
I stared at her hand, willing it to travel where I wanted, willing it to free me, to touch me, to give me what I wanted.

“Talk to me,” I suddenly said, my eyes flying from her hand to her face, and what I saw there shook me. She wanted me. Her face was filled with lust. Her tongue tip protruded from between her glistening lips, and her eyes were fixed to my cock, laser beams that willed me to grow harder, larger, want her more.

Yet that same face was in control - she desired but would not fulfill, and I sucked in my breath, grimaced at restraining boxer shorts that held my cock in check. I had run out of all the space available in my crotch.

“What do you want to hear?”

“You. Tell me about you,” I whispered, trying to forget my searching organ, trying to control myself as she was. The heat between us was palpable, we were both turning flushed and languorous, yet she had not moved from where she was - she had come no closer.

“Do you want my name?” She was playful. She released her tongue and smiled with gentle cheekiness. I shook my head.

“Later.”

“Tell me yours?” She was suave, she knew how to handle me - she had done this to men before, driven them wild, deliberately made them want her.

I shook my head again. “Later.”

“Alright,” she sighed, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes slightly in mock assessment. “You want to know how I tick. Right?”

I nodded.

She said, “I’m a virgin.”


A half hour later I was still hard as a rock - it had come and gone, but mostly stayed at attention - and she had driven me mad without barely a touch.

“I love men,” she had murmured, trailing her finger around the edge of my ear, to lightly tug on my ear lobe.

“How do you know, if you’re a virgin?”

“Oh,” she said, a warm, luxurious smile on her face, “I know. The way they smell, the way they look and feel ... in a suit, naked on their back, on their stomach ... wet in the shower ... fast sleep ... they’re beautiful.”

“And you’ve never had one.” A statement. My eyes were closed. I was trying to remain calm, but my cock was ferociously angry at me and wanted satisfaction.

“Brushes. Hints. Kisses. Make-out sessions.”

“No one’s ever put their fingers inside you.”

At this, she emitted a low moan of her own. My eyes flew open, and I turned to look at her. Her lashes were lowered, and she looked at me through them, her eyes glittering. She looked ready to fuck. Ready to be fucked, taken, invaded, to lose her virginity right there. I swallowed, clenched the cushions.

“This is torture,” I said softly, to warn her.

“I know,” she answered, her smile sweet. “Don’t you like it?”

“Very much,” I answered, my eyes on her face, hers on mine. “But there’s only so much a man can take.”

“I know.” She exhaled. Her breath was sweet.


“Please,” I said, eventually, fifteen minutes in. She gave me a low, delicious laugh.
“What are you asking for?”
“Anything you want.”
“Anything I want, what?”
“Anything you want to do to me.”
“More torture.”
“I don’t care. Just talk to me.”


“I have a fascination for cock.”

I let loose a moan and unconsciously rubbed my cock against the inside of my pants to relieve the pressure. She made a warning noise.

“Nuh-uh. Behave.”
“You came to torture me?”
“I came to be with you. I didn’t plan for this.”
“What did you plan for?”
“I didn’t. I saw you in your car and I wanted to get in.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m attracted to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re handsome.”
“That’s it? I’m just a man? You just wanted any man?”
“I wasn’t planning to lose my virginity.”
“Does that mean you’re going to?”
She gave a low laugh. “Eventually.”
“You know what I mean.”
She was silent. Then, “Maybe.”
“Maybe means yes.”
“Then, no.”
“Ah.” I said. I let my head drop back against the cushions. “Then maybe.”


“What’s the fascination for cock?” I asked. Her fingers had reached to loosen my tie and unbutton my top two shirt buttons, and I was now trying to deflect the pressure to grab her as she eased away.
“The word,” she murmured. “It’s a beautiful word.”
“Is it? Why?”
“It’s like the thing itself. Probing. Vowel in the middle is like an open mouth, an open pussy.”

I groaned again at her words.

She said, “I like the way it fills my mouth. Just like a cock would.”
“You want to suck one?”
“Always.”
“You don’t even know how they taste.”
“I know they taste good.”
“Some would say otherwise.”
“A matter of taste. The same goes for pussy.”
“Have you tasted your pussy?”
“Indirectly, yes.”
“Has anyone else?”
“Occasionally.”
“Not often.”
“Rarely.”
“How rarely?”
“I recall in terms of years.”
“Ah. And how do you taste?”
“Sweet, sometimes. Then sometimes ...”
“Spicier.”
“Mmm. Yes.”
“How often do you touch yourself?”
“When I’m not on my period, usually once a day.”
“How do you do it?”
“With my legs spread wide under the covers.”
“Do you make noises?”
“I try not to. Others would hear.”
“Do you fantasize?”
“Always.”
“About what?”
“Nasty things.”
“What kinds of nasty things?”

She leaned closer. Her body kept her distance yet her lips were against my ear and my breathing was so fitful I was beginning to lose my mind. I closed my eyes. I listened closely to our breath, her words, our mingled conversation. The lust in the air. Our lust.

“Women with women,” she murmured in my ear, smiling, and I almost came right there.
“Fuck. Really?”
“Yes. Love making is sexy. Bodies are sexy. Gender doesn’t matter.”
“Would you?”
“Only in my dreams,” she said, lightly, and I let out a frustrated breath.
“What else?”
“Porno. Scenes that really turned me on.”
“Like?”
“Lesbian scenes. When they get really into it and you can tell they’re really getting off and not just acting. When they grunt and groan and make the most unladylike noises. When they fuck like men.”
“Jesus Christ. What else?”
“Men with men.”
“What?” I didn’t open my eyes, but she heard my surprise.
“Gender doesn’t matter. Sex is sex. I love the male body, right?”
“Right.”
“The same way men love the female body and like to see it with itself. Exploring itself.”
“Mmm.” I nodded.
“So, the same with women.”
“That’s fair.”
“Of course.”


Her hand slid down to my crotch while she was talking and I whimpered. I actually whimpered. I pressed myself up against her sliding palm and she again chided me.

“Sit still. Let me touch you.”
“Careful. He’s antsy.”
I could hear her satisfaction in the throaty purr of her voice. “I bet.”

“What else,” I breathed, my pants undone and gaping open, her hand cupping my cock through my briefs. She had decided to partially free me, doing it without warning me and I had been moaning the whole time. The briefs were distended, the shape of my cock corded and defined vividly against the white cotton.
“My mouth filled with cock. My ass filled with cock. My pussy.”
“You’re a slut.”
“It’s a fantasy. Though maybe I am. I wouldn’t really do these things. Unless I were in hell - or heaven. Guilt free.”
“Double penetration.”
Her own moan sounded in my ear. She was still fully clothed, but her breasts were pressing against my arm so she could grip my crotch.
“Yes,” she whispered, and the first slip in her control was audible. I turned slightly, my lips pressed to her jaw.
“I want to fuck the shit out of you,” I murmured, softly.
“Yes,” she answered, but she did not move. She listened.
“I want to fill you to bursting with my cock.”
Her breathing grew deeper. She sucked in my words. “Yes.”
“I want to split you open and make you drip, make you come, make you beg until you’re hoarse.”
“Make me beg?” She murmured.
“Yes, like you’re doing to me now. I want you dripping.” I eased my lips closer to her ear.
“You’re soaking right now, aren’t you? Through your panties.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed down what I knew to be a whimper. I was making her lose control. I smiled against her ear lobe.
“You want the shit fucked out of you, don’t you? You want to be a little slut. You want that pussy opened wide, you want you want you want–“
She squeezed my cock through the cotton and then stroked it, a flash of pain then pleasure, and I choked on my words, cursed against her ear. I held very still, not sure of what she would do.
“Let me out,” I murmured, suddenly brave. Her hand remained still.
“See what you want so badly. Are you a coward?” I prodded. Her lips were parted against my ear, her breathing heavy, fitful, and I could see her on her back, talking the same shit and begging for more.
“Are you?”


She finally took a deep breath and said, her voice steadier, “Yes.”
“Why?” I whispered against her flesh. She shivered, and I pulsed against her hand. She shivered again.
“I don’t know you.”
“So?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Face your fear.”
“You could hurt me.”
“I won’t hurt you. You’re the one with all the power.”
“I’m locked in your house. You could rape and kill me.”
“But I won’t. But if you like rape, we can do that, too.”
She sucked in her breath and suddenly I knew that would be something that would turn her on, if done right. I pressed my lips to her jaw and breathed. She sighed.
“You want someone to rough you up.”
“Maybe.” Her voice was tiny.
“You want to be taken, forced, bruised.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop playing around then and let me inside.”
“No.” She took a breath and started to pull away.
I quickly pressed my lips back to her ear and said, “Do anything you want to me. Don’t stop.”


She liked power play. I understood this when she acquiesced. I verbally gave her power and she forgave me.
“Your cock is so hot,” she whispered, and she returned her lips to my burning ear.
“Not so hot as when you feel it inside you,” I said, and she shuddered.
“I’ll fill every hole,” I promised, my breath soft, my words low. “I’ll make you come for hours. I’ll fuck you until you ache. I’ll make you cry.”
“You just want what you want,” she said suddenly, her voice sobering.
“And you want what you want,” I replied. Then: “What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know. Say it.”


She leaned closer, and squeezed me lightly, and this time I shuddered. The anticipation was too much, I was losing my mind. But for her, I held on.
“I want to taste you,” she murmured.
I exhaled on a groan.
“I want to run my tongue around your head and tease the hole with the tip.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled against my ear lobe, nuzzling downward. Her tongue flickered out and teased my lobe. I sucked in air.
“I’ll hold just the tip in my mouth and taste you. I’ll run my tongue around the head ...”
“Yes ...”
There was a sudden cold chill of air as she tugged on the edge of my strained briefs and set me free. I stood tall, thrusting against the air for just a moment, and she stared at me, her eyes seeming to suck on it, and I made a sound of pleasure pain. Her hand suddenly grasped me, and my cock burned against her palm.
“Jesus Christ,” she said, her eyes absorbed with my weapon. “Jesus Christ.”


She stared down at me and didn’t move. I held my breath. She panted.

Her eyes then moved to mine and I held them, sought them, looked deep into them and saw the fear she mentioned, buried deep. She was new to this. She was afraid. But she wanted it. She had been wanting it forever.

“Kiss me,” she said, and I leaned forward, sharply, and pressed my lips to hers. She gasped, opened, and I dove in, my tongue stealing, searching, freed at last, and sucked air from her, tongued her senseless. She let me, she melted, she froze in midair, her hand on my ramrod straight cock, and then, suddenly, her fingers moved, began to stroke, and I groaned, with my hands reaching around her to crush her to me, to pull her to me, our lips and teeth and tongues smacking, sucking, slurping.
She tore herself away for air and then rose. She stared down at me and I stared up at her.

“I want you,” she said. She looked stricken. Helpless. Desiring yet afraid.
I gave her her answer.
“I want you.”


Like a loving wife, she eased my pants down around my legs to my ankles. She did the same with my briefs. My cock is spearing the air and she has been torn between it and my face, the pleasure she sees there, the desire. She knows I know she wants me, wants my cock.

She now kneels fully dressed between my thighs and asks me the question. She knows the answer. She is asking herself.

“You want it?” Her eyes sparkle. She is ready to dive.
“Yes.”


©.2001, Miriam M. Wynn
http://www.worderotic.com

Captive

Falling Water paused with his hatchet upheld. He looked around the wagon train at the dead and dying. He saw the sides of a wagon move and realized there was somebody inside. He ran to the wagon and threw open the back. Two women, one young and one older, sat hugging each other in fear. Their horrified eyes went to his bloody hatchet. He dropped the hatchet on the ground and grabbed the older woman. She was about 38 summers old, but not altogether unattractive. He jerked her out of the wagon, leaned her over the tailgate of the wagon, pawed at her dress until the mound of cloth rested on her back. He gaped at the cloth-covered ass and licked his lips. Her legs tried to kick him. He stepped between them and ripped her pantaloons apart with his hands. Her ripe, ample ass cheeks and fragrant pussy were laid bare. He took his cock into his hand, positioned it against her pussy and pushed. She screamed as he forced his way inside. It took several minutes before she began to juice up and stop struggling. All this time he watched the younger girl, just sitting there in stunned awe. Her eyes were on his pistoning cock, and her mother's gently rounded ass cheeks. He was pushing the ass cheeks out of shape, each time he thrust his manhood into her vagina. He could tell that she was beginning to enjoy it. Her screams had been replaced by moans.
Falling Water pumped vigorously, not remembering a more wonderful fuck. The white women were very soft and pliable. They felt good against a man's hard pelvis. He ran his hands over her firm ass, as he pumped away in her cunt. The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out was loud, even over the sounds of battle.
He felt his passion rising. Several warriors paused to watch. Fascinated by the naked flesh of the white woman. He grunted as he intensified his attack. Suddenly he came, filling the captive woman with his hot, sticky cum. She moaned in appreciation, even though she had not had her own orgasm. There was time, many warriors were standing by for their turn. There was more than enough for everyone.
Falling Water began to pull out, just as Red Bull rode by on his white war horse and shot an arrow into the white woman's prone back. Falling Water screamed angrily and fell to grab his hatchet. He tossed it just as Red Bull spun and rode away. It whistled harmlessly over his retreating back. With moans of disappointment, the other warriors turned and left. They didn't know about the second woman inside the wagon and he no longer cared to tell them. Let them find their own women.
"What a terrible waste of a good woman," Falling Water mumbled.
"You, out!" he commanded. When the white girl moved too slowly he yanked her out of the wagon and dragged her to his horse. They rode off, leaving the other warriors to search for their own loot.

Runs Like A Deer heard the commotion at the edge of the village, which could only be the warriors returning in triumph. Her brother was one of them, it was his first raid. He was a strong, virile warrior with his sights set on the Chief's daughter, Lapping Doe. Runs Like A Deer liked her brother. Falling Water was a man in every way possible. Lapping Doe could do worse.
Runs Like A Deer wanted to meet the warriors, and especially her brother, upon their return. But she was not properly dressed. She had been working skins all morning and she was covered with foul smelling rancid fat. Her bath went quickly, she bathed with a wooden bowl filled with flower-scented water, and a soft piece of deer hide. She was just pulling her white deer hide dress over her head when the tent flap opened and something was thrown inside. She pulled the dress on with a gasp and looked around. She found a white woman, not much older than a girl, laying on the furs at the far side of the tepee, cowering in fear.
"What is this?" Runs Like A Deer asked.
"A captive, your slave," Falling Water said in disdain. "Work her until she dies, for all I care. She is yours."
Runs Like A Deer knew what a great present her brother had given her, captives were worth a lot in prestige and power.
"Brother, I can't..."
"No more will be said," he slapped his chest and turned, spinning out of sight. Both Runs Like A Deer and Falling Water had learned to speak the white man's language through a captive missionary their father had kept as a slave, until he learned enough to begin preaching, and the tribe put him to death. Runs Like A Deer tried to remember what she had learned, it had been a long time.
"Are you hungry?" Runs Like A Deer said, or hoped she had said. The girl looked at her in surprise. She slid closer with a look of hope.
"Please, can you help me escape?" the girl said hopefully. Runs Like A Deer had trouble understanding some of the words, but the attitude was clear.
"You are a slave, you will stay here until you die," Runs Like A Deer said, not wishing to give the girl false hope. The girl's eyes clouded over. Her thoughts turned inward, as if she were not even there.
"Do you wish to eat?" Runs Like A Deer asked again.
"No," the girl spat. This angered Runs Like A Deer, who had simply been trying to help.
"Fine, if you want to be treated like a slave, then work like one. She tossed the skin bucket toward the girl. "Fill that in the river," she growled.
A look of hope came into the girl's eyes.
"If you try to escape, they will track you down and cut your tendons," Runs Like A Deer said. The girl paused, a look of horror crossing her face.
"They wouldn't!"
"They have and they will. It's the favorite way to hobble a slave. After that they can barely walk... forever."
The girl shivered and rubbed her ankles. "I want to go home," she moaned.
"Get the water," Runs Like A Deer said, feeling rather heartless.

It was well past midnight when Runs Like A Deer awoke to the sound of heavy breathing, punctuated by an occasional moan. It was not the sound of lovemaking, those were common in a camp made of skins. This was the sound of a troubled dream. She heard the whimper again and suddenly remembered her captive, the white girl. She reached out in the dark. Her hand came into contact with the girl's face.
"Wha... what?" the girl asked in fear.
"You were dreaming badly, you were having a... nightmare."
"Oh yes," the girl said in the darkness. "Can.. can I sleep with you?"
Runs Like A Deer paused, surprised by the request. She had been living alone since her brother reached the age of puberty and moved into a tepee of his own. Falling Water usually had friends spending the night with him, other boys. Runs Like A Deer did not.
"I... sure," she finally said uncomfortably. If she coddled the prisoner too much she might gain false hopes, but she could not deny the pleading request. She felt the girl groping in the darkness. Suddenly a warm female body slid next to her's. The girl seemed surprised to find Runs Like A Deer naked, but that was the way Runs Like A Deer liked to sleep.
The girl fell asleep immediately and there were no more nightmares.

They picked berries the next day so Runs Like A Deer could make her famous berry cakes. The captive missionary had introduced her to the wonderful creations possible with baking soda. Thanks to Falling Water, she had more than enough baking soda, gained through wagon train raids, to last her a lifetime. She used this wondrous ingredient to create her light, fluffy cakes. With a mixture of corn meal, honey, sweet potato flour, berries, and baking soda, she created cakes she could trade for meats, clothing, and utensils. Life had been hard since a Ute raid killed her parents, but Runs Like A Deer's skill at cooking, combined with her brother's hunting skills, helped to sustain them.
"What will you do with all these?" Niomi pointed at the baskets of berries.
"I will dry them and use them for cooking."
"Can I help?"
"Sure, but first you need to get wood for the oven."
"You have an oven?" Niomi was surprised.
"Yes, outside. It's the huge mud mound you saw behind the tepee."
"Oh," Niomi said. She hurried out. Runs Like A Deer amassed her ingredients and cooking utensils. Most had come from wagon train raids. Some she had made with clay, hardened in the fire. She was lost in thought until she heard a commotion. She ran for the door in time to see Falling Water dragging Niomi behind him.
"She was getting me wood!" Runs Like A Deer shouted, pulling Niomi's arm out of his grasp.
"She was running over the hill just as fast as her legs could carry her," he growled. He pulled his knife and sank behind Niomi. Niomi screamed, begging Runs Like A Deer for help. Undecided, Runs Like A Deer finally stopped his hand, just as he was about to slash the back of her ankles.
"You gave her to me," Runs Like A Deer reminded him gently.
"But she may run again!" he objected.
"If she does, you will catch her. She has nowhere to go," Runs Like A Deer said, pointing at the barren hills around them. Falling Water shoved his knife back into the sheath and stormed off.
"Oh thank you," Niomi said, grabbing Runs Like A Deer's arm.
"You should have cut her," Lame Crow yelled. Her fat belly jiggled as she made a slashing motion.
"Go away you fat old buffalo," Runs Like A Deer said in disdain. Lame Crow seldom said anything worth listening too. She was the troublemaker of the camp. Runs Like A Deer pulled Niomi inside and closed the tent flap.
"You must never do that again," Runs Like A Deer chastised gently. "They would kill you."
"I know," Niomi howled. She lowered her head to Runs Like A Deer's chest and began crying. Runs Like A Deer gently petted her head, while lowering her chin to the top of Niomi's head. Niomi wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and looked up. Runs Like A Deer saw the startled look in her eyes. She looked at Runs Like A Deer's lips, licked her own lips, then moved forward and pressed her lips to Runs Like A Deer's. Runs Like A Deer was shocked into immobility. When she finally realized what was happening, she no longer wanted to pull away. Niomi's lips felt good on her own. Indians never kissed, but Runs Like A Deer decided that she liked it.
In moments they were withering passionately in each other's arms. Niomi lowered Runs Like A Deer to the furs and kissed her urgently, while her hand slid inside Runs Like A Deer's leather shirt. Runs Like A Deer stiffened in surprise. She was a virgin and would be until she married. She had heard of women making love, but had never experienced it. The thought had never occurred to her before now. Girl play was accepted in her society. So why not, she decided, grabbing Niomi by the shoulders and pulling her tightly against her chest. The searching hand on Niomi was touching her sensitive breast. Her chest was on fire in just a few short minutes. She helped Niomi open the shirt so she would have free access to both breasts.
She withered beneath Niomi's touch, burned beneath her urgent kisses. Niomi's body felt hot against her own. The skin was so soft, so alive.
She suddenly gasped at the loss of Niomi's kiss. She opened her eyes in time to see Niomi bending over her right breast. Her lips parted and captured Runs Like A Deer's hot, stiff nipple. She sighed gently at first contact. She squeezed her legs tightly together as the fire started down below. She could feel the juices beginning to flow. Her pussy was hot, very responsive.
Runs Like A Deer looked at the plain face, framed by light-brown hair and suddenly decided she wanted more. She wanted to completely share herself with the white girl. She wanted to merge with her and become one, if only for a short moment.
Runs Like A Deer fumbled at the unfamiliar buttons on the woman's blouse. She finally growled in frustration. Niomi released her breast and showed her how to undo the buttons. Even then it was Niomi who had to finish. She pulled off her blouse and undid the button on her skirt. Runs Like A Deer hastily slid the skirt down. She looked at the strange pantaloons. She slid them down easily. Niomi was now naked. Runs Like A Deer's eager hands roamed over Niomi's body, while Niomi recaptured her stiff nipple.
Runs Like A Deer slid a hand over Niomi's ample ass cheek. It was firm and hot in her hands. Next she forced her hand under Niomi and twisted a nipple. Niomi twisted and moaned. She rose up to offer her breasts readily to Runs Like A Deer's hand.
"So beautiful," Runs Like A Deer moaned.
Niomi glanced at her from the corner of her eye. She suddenly rose up and captured the second nipple. Runs Like A Deer arched her back and groped for Niomi's breasts. She badly wanted to taste one, but she loved the feeling of Niomi's lips on her own breast. Suddenly she found a solution.
"Up here," she motioned for Niomi to lean over her head. "I want to suck you too," she sighed. Niomi hurried to comply. Runs Like A Deer leaned up and captured a hanging breast in her mouth. She sucked eagerly while her tongue strummed the nipple. Niomi adjusted her position until she could easily reach Runs Like A Deer's breast. She cried out as her lips touched the hot, stiffened nipple again. It was heavenly, the feeling of warm flesh, and the pleasure of Runs Like A Deer's warm mouth. There was nothing better.
Niomi's eyes went to the black patch of hair just beyond her head. She reached out and ran her hand through the soft, curly hair. It felt wonderful. She slid her hand a bit farther and felt the heat and moisture of Runs Like A Deer's hot pussy. Runs Like A Deer moaned loudly and arched up off the furs to meet the slender fingers probing her womanhood. She had never felt a touch there before, except for her own. This was so different, so much better.
Before she knew what she was doing, Niomi stretched forward, seeking the womanly mound before her. As she moved forward, Runs Like A Deer was suddenly faced with Niomi's sweet mound. She looked at it curiously. The mound moved from side to side as she watch, dancing enticingly just out of her reach. Runs Like A Deer was almost undecided, to the point of panic, when she suddenly felt a warm pair of lips touching her pussy. Everything changed at that moment. The intense heat and joy from that touch made her heart race, her body burn. Suddenly she no longer feared the mound which was above her face. She anticipated it's arrival. She slid a pile of furs behind her head, momentarily touching the pussy with her lips. She licked her lips tentatively and lifted her hands to pull the pussy down to meet them.
"Oh yes," Niomi gasped around a mouthful of pussy flesh. Runs Like A Deer shot her tongue up inside of Niomi and slid it around a bit. She then began licking, rhythmically like a dog. She licked the large lips of Niomi's pussy and pulled them with her teeth. Niomi cried out and mashed her sex against Runs Like A Deer's mouth. Runs Like A Deer sucked urgently, drawing abundant juices from the girl's cunt. It was sweet and slightly fishy. She loved it.
Niomi desperately licked and sucked Runs Like A Deer's sweet pussy with her own mouth. Like many virgins, Runs Like A Deer was sweet and unsullied. Runs Like A Deer was absolutely delicious. Each woman took on the taste and fragrance of what she ate, to a certain extent, making each woman different, distinctive. Runs Like A Deer was very flavorful.
Runs Like A Deer couldn't believe what she was doing. This was totally foreign to her. The pleasure and fire in her loins was devastating. She forgot who she was and where she was. The only real thing in her world now was the sweet pussy in her lips, and the sweet lips on her pussy.
Lick, lick, lick, the tongue flashed in her pussy relentlessly. Runs Like A Deer was going to cum. But this was much larger than any orgasm she had ever generated in hew own pussy. She wondered briefly if she could withstand such passion, then she didn't care. The hot flesh of the woman above her was so alive, so soft. She ran her hand over Niomi's ass, as her tongue explored the wet pussy. A stream of juices filled her mouth, since she was beneath Niomi. They all drained from her pussy and directly into Runs Like A Deer's open lips. She drank hastily to keep up with their flow.
She suddenly grew aware of the cresting wave of her orgasm. It was about to explode between her legs. She paused in her mouthing and tightened her ass cheeks to stave it off, but it was useless. She arched her back off the furs, feeding her moist pussy to Niomi's eager lips, as her orgasm exploded in her loins. Runs Like A Deer clamped her lips onto Niomi's pussy and gasped into it, as her own pussy spasmed and clenched around Niomi's tongue. The tongue seemed to be everywhere. The hot lips sucked her flesh relentlessly. The tip of her tongue strummed her clit, causing her to scream and buck beneath Niomi.
Runs Like A Deer intensified her attack on Niomi, determined to give her as big an orgasm as she was getting. It took only seconds for Niomi to begin cumming on her face. She mashed her pussy against Runs Like A Deer's beautiful face, crushing the wet pussy flesh into her lips and nose. Runs Like A Deer lapped anxiously, while feeling the mouth still working between her wide open legs. Finally Runs Like A Deer's orgasm stopped. She reached down and pushed Niomi's mouth away. Niomi rested her face against Runs Like A Deer's soft leg, kissing it gently, as her bucking pussy exploded time after time in Runs Like A Deer's mouth.
In moments both girls lay still, happy and exhausted.
"That was heavenly," Niomi moaned, running a warm hand over Runs Like A Deer's body.
"It was," Runs Like A Deer agreed. "I have never felt anything down there but my own hands, and an ear of corn."
"Corn?" Niomi was amazed. "Wouldn't that hurt?"
"Not if you find the right ear," Runs Like A Deer laughed, rolling over on her stomach. Her hand dipped into a basket and pulled out several black ears of dried corn. She handed one to Niomi. Niomi slid it back and forth in her hand. It was both rough, and soft at the same time. She realized it would probably feel absolutely sinful inside her pussy.
"I would like to try this, some time," Niomi said, handing the small ear of corn back to her.
"I sometimes grind them after I have used them," Runs Like A Deer admitted with an impish grin. "Especially if the cakes are to go to people such as Lame Crow," she giggled. They fell together, laughing.

The baking went well, with the two of them doing the work. It wasn't long after they started, when customers began eagerly hanging around outside of the tepee. Runs Like A Deer looked out and clapped her hands. She would be very successful today.
Niomi had begun dressing as Runs Like A Deer did, in one of her short leather skirts and no pantaloons. She offered Runs Like A Deer an unobtrusive look at her pussy many times throughout the day. Their little game helped to pass the time happily. Night fell just as the last of the extra cakes was passed out the door in return for half a deer. The meat had dried on the outside so it would not attract flies. Dashing Rain liked to dry the meat over a fire. The white people called it smoking.
Runs Like A Deer and Niomi sat among all the wealth gained through the day's cooking. They were wealthy.
"When my brother returns, we will give him his share," Runs Like A Deer said happily.
"I don't want to see him," Niomi shivered.
"Don't worry, he will not harm you. He was just doing what was necessary. He does not hate you... in fact, he looks at you like you were one of my cakes," Runs Like A Deer giggled. "I think he likes you."

Night fell and Falling Water failed to show. They tied the tepee flap and laid naked on the furs, looking fondly into each other's eyes, while their hands explored each other's bodies. In a few minutes both girls were getting hot.
"Give me one of those corn's," Niomi whispered. Runs Like A Deer reached into the basket and pulled out a large ear of corn. She handed it to Niomi wordlessly. Niomi moved down on the furs, opened Runs Like A Deer's legs and kissed each leg tenderly, before she placed her lips over Runs Like A Deer's sweet pussy and licked it. After licking for several minutes she paused and held the ear of corn at the entrance to Runs Like A Deer's vagina. Runs Like A Deer tensed, closing her eyes. She felt the ear of corn turning, growing well-lubricated by her juices. Slowly it slid well up inside of her. Runs Like A Deer gasped and arched her back, thrusting her pussy toward Niomi to meet the pistoning ear of corn.
Suddenly the tent flap rustled and Falling Water stepped inside. Niomi stopped in horror, pulling away.
Falling Water's eyes went over his beautiful sister's naked flesh, going to the corn still protruding from her wet pussy, to her dark and enticing nipples. Then his eyes went to Niomi. They traveled over her naked body. He licked his lips greedily.
"Continue," he commanded. Runs Like A Deer urged Niomi to do as he commanded. He was the head of the family, he held their lives in his hand. It was their law.
Shaking in fear, Niomi grasped the ear of corn and continued thrusting it inside of Runs Like A Deer. After a moment she lowered her mouth and began licking Runs Like A Deer's clit. There was a low moan from Falling Water. He looked at the white girl kneeling between his sister's legs, then his eyes went to her upturned ass. Without hesitation he knelt behind the white girl and took out his cock. He held it firmly while he planted at the entrance to her pussy. He shoved firmly and found his cock sliding all the way inside. She was as hot and tight as her mother. He closed his eyes with his face upturned and pumped away into her upturned ass.
"Oh God yes," Niomi whispered as his manhood flashed in and out of her quivering flesh. The juices made a wet sound. The smell of female sex was strong. It was pleasant, mixed with the smell of freshly baked cakes, dried rose petals, and drying berries.
With her eyes tightly closed, Niomi lapped eagerly in Runs Like A Deer's sweet pussy, while she rammed the ear of corn in and out. In seconds Runs Like A Deer began to cum. She screamed loudly, something that should not be done in a camp of leather tents. Her screams elicited much laughter and murmured talk.
Niomi held the ear of corn still, allowing Runs Like A Deer to push against it, effectively fucking herself, while Niomi lapped eagerly, supping on Runs Like A Deer's flavorful juices.
Falling Water watched from behind. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He once watched through a screen of bushes as two young girl pleasured each other, but that was nothing compared to this. The sighs, sounds and smells made the experience intoxicating. The wonderful moist heat on his cock was almost unbearable. He felt his cock might strain until it burst, trying to grow bigger and firmer inside the white girl's pussy. It was more than he could stand.
With Niomi's face resting in Runs Like A Deer's warm pussy, she endured his punishing attack, feeling her own tremendous orgasm building. In three more strokes they both exploded. Their own screams were added to those of Runs Like A Deer, possibly still echoing off the distant hills. The camp listened, speculating, preparing rumors for the next day. By noon everyone would know who screamed and where.
"Oh yes," Falling Water gasped, falling next to Niomi and his sister. He ran a hand over Runs Like A Deer's firm breasts, before she firmly grasped his hand and removed it.
"You would make a good mate," Falling Water whispered to Niomi. Niomi smiled, but Runs Like A Deer rose up off the furs.
"Oh no she won't, she's mine," she reminded him. "Get your own mate. We are happy with what we have. You may join us occasionally like you did tonight," she acceded with a smile.
"Very well," he agreed, filling one hand with Niomi's small breast, and the other with one of Runs Like A Deer's cakes. He fell asleep with the cake half eaten and his hand still on Niomi's breast.