Writer's Block

I stared at the laptop, hoping that words would magically appear on the screen. No luck so far. The cafe I was sitting in was deserted save the pony-tailed waiter who kept trying to catch my eyes. He was cute but not my type. There must be others in the kitchen or the baking section but they don't make an appearance. My third cold coffee was nearly drained, and I emerged from the screen to order another. Just then a family walked in; the man was holding a little girl, about three in his arms, and the woman carried a small red clutch. She was curvy and her soft, tanned skin strained the fabric of her dress, she probably held on to her pregnancy fat. I spied a hint of a deep, sensuous cleavage over the neck of her tops.

What a waste!

I nodded at the waiter to bring me another glass. He rushed to the get me my coffee, ignoring the couple. I made a mental note to tip him better. I sipped the sweet drink and sighed my approval. He gave me a toothy smile, like a kid hoping he'd get a cookie for good behaviour. I smiled back and returned to my laptop. He hung around for a few seconds and then he left to serve the couple when I kept looking pointedly at the screen.

The couple didn't seem to mind the priority I got. They were still choosing which pastries to order, well the little one was choosing and it couldn't make up its mind. If it were me, I'd have just bought one of each and tasted them all.

The woman's laughter made me look up. The little girl had smeared the side of the man's face with pineapple cream. The woman joined her daughter to help clean the man's face. She swiped a finger full of cream off his face and sucked it, all the while looking into his eyes. 

God!

Her husband or boyfriend wasn't bad looking either. Maybe...

Nah.

I would prefer to have her all to myself, without anyone butting in. I have had threesomes before, but I never enjoyed it. You had to divide your attention between two people and that was never satisfying for me. If you were in bed with me, you better focus all your attention on me. That was how I always have been, even way back to my dorm days in my boarding school.

Those were sweet memories. There were eight of us in the dorm. And by the end of the first year six of us had had sex with each other. It all started quite 'innocently' when I dared one of my roomie Patricia, Pat as we called her, to kiss me. The other girls were watching and Pat didn't want to seem a chicken. She leaned forward to give me a chaste peck on my lips, but I grabbed her head and crashed her lips over mine. I didn't get to French kiss her though. As I continued to kiss Pat she stopped struggling, and the girls' initial gasps and 'oh's turned into a very tense silence. I knew they were watching us, intently. I let go of Pat and smiled. She was still standing with her lips slightly parted, hoping I was just taking a breather. And there began our descent into decadence.

Soon we progressed to embraces and groping, and from there to full blown sex, tribbing and fingering. We still had reservations about going down on someone. So while the six of us were swapping partners each night, the two of the prudes, Mary Hamish and Harriet Devon kept their silence. They didn't want to cross Darla, my sweet girl, Darla. At thirteen years old she stood nearly five ten and she had arms as thick as the bed posts. Darla Goodsbody. Her father was a neo-rich, he apparently made his wealth making fertilisers. Just standing beside her made you look tough. It was with her that I enjoyed the best. She wasn't the best of kissers, but she had a body that was nearly twice as big as mine.

The reason I preferred Darla was that she could smother me with her body, I liked to lie beneath her and let her beguilingly soft skin meld with mine. Even when on top she managed to envelope me, draping her legs over mine, using me petite bottom to grind my snatch with hers. Sex for me wasn't just the penetration or the kisses; it was the congress of skins and sensations, the synchronisation of pulses and breathing, being suffused in the primal aroma. We swapped around pretty often; it wasn't the person, it was the pleasure they could give. We had a great time.  

Since then I've had both men and women, and I preferred women; tribbing requires a level of intimacy that penetration just doesn't offer. Besides, not all guys are cuddly, and some just want to use you.

The family was seated now, the woman was facing me while her husband faced the other way, the girl sat beside him. The couple was focused on the little thing as it ate it's treat. It was stuff like this that made me wonder whether I was missing out on something.

I called the waiter to bring me another glass. He was just as prompt as ever, like a conditioned pet. The woman had made me horny; all her curves begged me to go explore them. But she was with someone, off limits. Just my luck. My waiter wasn't though. He was nowhere near my type but he'd have to do in a pinch. I rose up from my table and walk towards the restroom looking at him, hoping he had enough sense to notice my invitation.

  

I shut the door behind me, and stood facing the mirror. The door opened. It was her. She smiled politely, and I returned the gesture. She looked firm up close and I quickly revised my imagination. She noticed me looking at her, checking her out. I didn't stop staring.

  

"You have a great body."

She giggled. "Thanks."

"Was that your kid?"

"Yeah. Her name's Rose. I'm Sylvia, by the way."

"Kaitlyn Cedars." I shook her hand.

"Oh my god! The Kaitlyn Cedars?"

"Yes." I felt a touch of pride.

“I've read all your stories."

My pulse raced. The devil whispered in my ears, take advantage.

"Tell me, what is it that you like the most about them?"

"The tenderness," she replied promptly, "and the way you describe the sensations."

I recognised the look in her eyes, I have seen it before, lots of times. It was hero worship. I whipped out a card from my pocket and handed it to her, asking her to call me if she felt like it. She knew what I meant. I wrote lesbian erotica and an invitation for further conversation with me could only mean one thing.

She took the card, tentatively. I thought it was out of politeness but then she smiled coyly as she slipped it into her red clutch. We parted.

Back at my table, I found my muse and the words started flowing. The waiter hung behind my chair at a respectable distance hoping to get lucky. Sorry, boy. Not yet.

One Encounter

     I back the car up my driveway. The whole street's quiet since it's a week-night. I park it just outside the garage door, and flip on the cabin light. I look at Annie, sitting demurely in the passenger seat, the Goth make-up looks very natural on her as if she's been doing it for ages. I click open the seatbelt and let it whiz back into its place. I lean sideways to take my second taste of her lips and tongue, they are still a little cold from the drinks we had at The Pink, the local lesbian watering hole. The kiss is just as intoxicating as the first one I stole from her in the bar's restroom; it has a mysterious metallic hint to it. It robs my breath away. 

     We get out of the car and I lock it. She's waiting for me by the front door even though it's open. Maybe she thinks it's going a little too fast. I hope that she's not having second thoughts about this. It's been a while since I actually brought someone home with me, and I don't want to scare her away by being a little too insistent. She was fun to converse with back at the bar, I enjoyed listening to the stories of Kings and Queens through the ages. The way she said it, you'd believe that she was actually there when it all happened. But seeing her all quiet and reserved now doesn't fill me with much hope.

     I invite her in, hoping that she'd accept and not ask me take her back. She steps inside. My heart skips several beats and the flutter I felt in my stomach, back at the bar when I first approached her, is back again. I guide her into the living room and take her leather jacket and hang it along with my own coat on the hanger. I ask her to sit and wait a, while I go fetch some more drinks from the kitchen. It should loosen her up a little. I whip up a small batch of Bloody Mary and pour it into two glasses.

    I head back to the living room. She's flipping through this month's Reader's Digest. I hand her a glass and settle down beside her.

     "You were telling me about King Edward," I remind her.

    She takes a sip from her glass and sets it down on the Ottoman before she answers. "What more can I say? He wasn't like the other nobs; he didn't mind what colour his lovers were." 

     I laugh and move closer to her, my hand brush against her bare arm. Her pale skin is cold. 

     "Do you want me to crank up the temperature a little." 

    "Nah. It's all right," she says, and rakes a hand through my loose hair, pulling me into a kiss. It's slow and sensual, her lips hold my tongue hostage while she uses her tongue to tease mine. I lift her legs and lay them over my lap, closing the gap between us even further. For someone so frail looking she sure has a strong embrace. 

     I rub her back through her t-shirt, it elicits a moan from her, and it signals a need. I break the kiss and rest my forehead on hers. I smile, feeling a little giddy and slightly breathless. She's calm, but her pupils are dilated, they betray her excitement.

     I lift her t-shirt, all the while looking at her for any objection. None comes. I pull it over her head and she assists by rising her arms. She's wearing a black bra, it makes her skin look even paler, even sexier. Heat courses through my body, and it melts my cunt.

     She feels wonderfully cool and soft and smooth, her body saps all the heat mine radiates. I nuzzle her delicate neck, just above the velvet choker she's wearing and I'm rewarded with a purr. I picture her beneath me in my bed, with nothing on but that choker; my urgency builds.

     I slip my legs from underneath hers and get up, intent on taking the action to the comfort of my bed. I tug her arm but she pulls me back onto to the sofa, and swiftly straddles me, pinning my hands above my head. Once again that beguiling strength manifests itself.

     She plunders my lips as if starved. I return her fervour. She let's go of my hands and cups my face, intensifying the kiss, crushing my lips. I am too far gone. All I can do is hold on to her as she sets the pace.

     She paints my face with kisses and licks. I lift my hips a little to meet her pelvis with mine. I buck and grind. It's not enough.

     She moves down to my neck. I tilt my head to give her better access. She pays attention to every inch of me skin there, sucking and licking. I soak through my panties and my clit throbs. I manage to get a leg over hers and I start tribbing.

     I rock on the sofa, my eyes are half lidded, dazed by such intense foreplay. I'm getting off grinding my crotch against hers. But she stills my crazed movements. I'm panting. She draws my gaze to hers. Pure hunger. She needs me. She needs me bad.

     It happens in a blur, one second we are locked in gaze and the next she's at my neck again. I hiss at the sharp sting that follows. Something hot trickles down my neck, but I am too tired and sleepy. She's soothing me with one hand, running it up and down my hair. I sink further into the darkness. It doesn't sting any more.

*~*~*

Submission - The Switch

     I wake up with a start. The lights are still on and it takes me a minute to realise that you are spooning me, like a real couple. I suppose that at this point we are. I don't deny that I love you. But you are ruining my resolve, shattering things that I worked for years to build. You are making me vulnerable. It just won't do.

     Never have I let anyone run any aspect of my life. Even sex was a scramble for gratification, and as etiquette dictated, to gratify. This impersonal, yet more intimate sex frightens me. It presupposes that I trust you explicitly. A trust that I have never given to anyone.

     I scrape my thighs off our mingled congealed essence. You left me wanting and I was too tired to do anything about it then. This tactic of yours, to make me submit, it will inevitably make me long for you. That's not happening. I need to level this play field before I lose total control. I think it's about time I took my pleasure at your expense.

     I reach for your cock and massage it back to life. You stir and awaken. A bleary eyed smirk greets me. I grin back. Oh, you have no idea.

     I straddle your midsection and grind my crotch on you swaying for a silent rhythm, while you shift to a better position to let me ride your cock. But that's not going to happen, at least not yet. It is surprisingly easy for me to let go of any restraints that might have once stopped me from doing what I'm about to do. Your smile falters. I slide myself right up to your face. Holding on to the head board, I hover over your lips, still swaying to the ethereal beat. 

     You hook your arms around my thighs to pull me down to your mouth. You expect compliance. But I'm here to salvage my mind. I'm here to show that I'm no pushover. I swat your hands away. It's your turn to heel. 

     I lower myself just enough to let you lick my slit and pull back. You crane your neck to reach my pussy but I push your head back on to the pillow and hold it there. This time when I lower myself to your waiting mouth, I push harder, grind myself over your lips. Your bristles are prickly and so I desist that soon. You lap at my folds, guiding your clever tongue back and forth. I hold on to the head board for dear life. There, so nearly there. 

     I teeter on the very edge as you suck on my clit with a relentlessly. I grab your head and crush it against my pussy, as the first of the orgasms rock through me. You have yet to surface for breathing but I don't let go. I need you to taste me, drink me in; feel helpless as I had felt hours before. Something tells me your are enjoying this; my unrestrained desires. Maybe this is what you were hoping to achieve. It's not bad, this lustful abandon. 

     I relax and let go of your head. You take in deep gulps of air and stave off the darkness. I let you recover while I do the same. I didn't imagine that to take total control could be this taxing. This sweet ache in my muscles and the tingling all over my body blot out every thought in my head. Yet, one thought or rather a craving is pretty insistent. My pussy demands to be filled. I give in.

     I slide back to your pelvis. Your are rock hard. Good. I don't waste time lubing your entire length with my juice. Again, you try to regain a modicum of control, some measure of say, but I'm in no mood for that. I pin your arms to your sides with my legs. It's not a strong hold, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the idea. The idea that I'm in charge. 

     It feels good to have you inside me the way I want it. I contract my vaginal muscles and give you a nice, good squeeze. I am rewarded with a groan. The ride begins. I take it slow, testing angles that I find the most pleasurable. Yes! I support myself with my hands on your abdomen and start moving in earnest. I can sense that you aren't going to last long but I'm nowhere near done. I have to delay you. I pinch your nipple hard. You grunt. I guess I succeeded in shift your focus. 

     Sweat trickles down the valley of my spine as I go jack hammer on you. The tendrils of pleasure snake all over my body. I grab my own tit to relieve some of it. I take my other hand off you to play with my clit, a booster to reach the finish-line. Just a little longer. My muscles start to tire even with the mattress assisting me in my endeavour. Not yet. I push myself hard, risking a cramp. It hits me. I melt all over your cock. I slump forward on to you. My breathing is violent and heart threatens break out of my chest. 

     Believe it or not, I have a sense of fair play. As the orgasm courses through me, I use the extra impetus to clench your hard cock, still nestled inside me. A few good squeeze later I get you off and you stop your restricted humping. 

     Lying there with you, I feel just as confused as I was before I took you. It is still too early in the relationship for me to decide. We are good together, both bed and otherwise. You are good. But I still need more time to get the hang of this, us. I'll meet your demand for trust, only if it is reciprocated. Because this is my life and I have every reason to be strong.

Submission - Taken

     The water drips down from my body while I wait as for you. I can't believe I actually gave you oral in the shower. I look at myself in the mirror and see the same familiar features, nothing's changed. But that's not entirely true. You are changing me on the inside. I still don't know whether this is good or bad.

     Before I have time to contemplate any further, you wrap me in a towel and pat me dry. You do it with a gentleness that surprises me. It makes it harder for me pin you - the beast or the gentleman.

     You lead me back to the bed, the towel wrapped lightly around me. It provides me a sense of safety; safe from you. I can't place the exact feeling. How can you frighten and entice me, both at the same time? What are you doing to my mind?

     Unanswered questions flit through my head when I'm brought back to reality with a jolt. You've removed the towel. I'm naked again, but it's consoling, that so are you.

     You face me towards the bed while you stand behind me. Then it comes, after what seems like an eon of silence, the single command, "Bend forward."

     You emphasise it with a slight push to the middle of my back. I lean forward till I'm resting my palms on the mattress. I crane my neck back to see what you are up to. Your eyes are focused on my bottom. I turn my head away, the intensity of your stare burns me.

     You widen my stance, giving you an unrestricted view at my unguarded, naked pussy in the bright light. The air is cool as it caresses the most intimate part of me. I can sense you take it all in, every fold, every puckered bit, every little goosebump. I try to stay still and hide my feelings. I don't even know what I'm trying to hide. I hope that the impassive look on my face is mirrored all over my body, but I'm wrong. My pussy pulses with a life of its own. I am betrayed by my own body - my greedy pussy has revealed my own wantonness.

     I flush all over. Was that embarrassment or arousal? Then suddenly the air around my pussy changes. It's warm. Your fingers peel apart my nether lips even further. I can feel you looking right inside me, all pink and wet and inviting. My heart's thumping inside my chest, but the throbbing pulse is everywhere.

     Then you invade. I shy away from it, shocked by the soft, hot, and wet touch. But you grab my hips and keep me closer while your tongue flicks at my entrance. Your nose is nudging against my other hole, I definitely need to get away. But it's futile to struggle against your herculean strength. Maybe it's just me who isn't trying hard enough. Your violation, while it scares me, it also feeds my ego. The idea that someone could worship even that part me sends a thrill rush through my body.

     I know I'm gushing. It can't all be your saliva that's trickling down my thighs. You continue to tease me with that wicked tongue of yours. All I can do is try to clench you tongue each time it penetrates me. My knees and elbows threaten to buckle as I lose every other sensation save the ones at my core.

     You withdraw. The cool air fills the spot you just vacated. And without any warning you enter me, harder and possibly even bigger. The easy of your entrance is a testament to my arousal, my desire. You hold yourself in position by placing your hands on my hips, grabbing none too gently the soft flesh there. When you start to move it's not gentle either, it's not even remotely polite. You are using me, plain and simple. The angle of your penetration affords me little pleasure, so I bring down my hand to play with my clit. You don't approve. You pin the offending hand behind my back and continue pounding into me.

     My other hand slips and I'm slumped onto the bed. Now the angle is ungainly for both of us. Yet you don't skip a beat as you just reach forward and yank my hair back, forcing my torso up. It smarts. I am essentially being raped, my brain tells me. But there's something else, or the lack of it. I'm under no pressure to please you. Your pleasure is your prerogative now, and I'm released from the burden of having to cater to it. All that's required of me now is this submission.

     I'm nowhere near an orgasm but I've never been so aroused or even this wanton ever. I sink into my role as you toy. A sharp sting on my bottom punctuates the teasing pleasure. I clench instinctively. Sensing that it was just the one I relax and I'm immediately treated to a second slap on the ass cheek, and more clenching on my part. You caress the sensitive skin that you just hit, it tickles. The immediate sting is replaced by pleasure instead. It lulls me into relaxation, big mistake. I scream when the blow lands; tears well up in my eyes.

     Before I can get over the pain, you come inside me. The hot spurts coat my insides, suffusing me with liquid warmth. You go slack against my back. The thundering of your heart rocks through me, and you are breathing just as hard as I am. I haven't come yet but I'm exhausted. How, I do not understand. You have exhausted me. I sink into to the mattress, and you fall on top of me.

     I couldn't believe that I had let you use me. The sting of that final slap still hurts but it's dulled down, sending a prickly sensation down my legs and up my spine. The tiredness claims what little thought I have and soothe me into a deep sleep.

(to be cont...)

Submission - The Initiation

You ask me to trust you. You ask me to surrender myself to you. I love you, but I'd always maintained a personal space inside my mind, a place where nothing can touch me, and you ask me to let you in. I want to, I really do, but that's my core. That's Me. Inviolable. 

One step at a time, you tell me. 

You switch the lights on. I know how I look naked. I know every inch of my body. But us, together and naked, is new. It's alien. I look at our entwined bodies - your head propped up on one hand, facing me; your hand resting on my breast; your legs scissored in mine; your cock nudging my slit. Seeing this in the bright florescent light somehow heightens my sensation, impresses upon me how natural it is. You have broken a barrier inside me. It's still just one. 

You rise up, and pull me up along with you. I not sure what you have in mind. All I've got eyes for is your naked form, leading me, holding my hand. You take me into the bathroom, and step into the shower. I feel kinky already. 

The rapid, cold shower makes me shiver involuntarily. I press against your warm body. You hold me there. I've never bathed together with someone before. Even in gyms, I seek out a private booth to shower, avoiding the unabashedly public showers. The water running over my face makes it hard for me to breath, and you pull me into a rough kiss that makes it even harder. 

The water intrudes upon our privacy. Like a perverted voyeur, it trickles into places most private. By the time the water slides down our tangled bodies, it's pleasantly warm. 

You hand me a bar of soap, and tell me to lather myself up. I giggle. Memories of a long forgotten childhood bubbles up. I do as you say. I rub the lather over my body and in my crevices. A simple and routine task that has become very difficult with you watching me. Your eyes follow my hands everywhere. I drop the soap in the tub out of nerves. I bend down to retrieve it, and I'm greeted my your hardened cock. It stands proud just inches from my face. I abandon my attempt to find the soap. I look up instead. There's hunger in your eyes. Or was it just a reflection of my own? 

It feels so natural, like I have done this before, like I have always done this. I wrap a hand around your shaft and without a second thought slip the head of your cock into my mouth. It is hot. I don't get to taste you much, just a hint of saltiness before the water washes your precum away. I squeeze and pump with my hand while I flick my tongue over the purple head. I don't know what I'm doing but it seems to pleasure you. I continue, amazed at myself. Soon we strike up a rhythm - my lips suck the head while my hands keep stroking. As we pick up pace, I grab your thigh for support. You are losing it. You begin to jerk your hips, thrusting hard into my mouth. Without warning, you grab the back of my head, and take control. You set the pace, it's fast, and hard. I release your cock and place my other hand on your thigh for support. 

You literally fuck my mouth. I try to accommodate your gridth and try not to hurt you with my teeth. But you seem beyond caring at this point. You have completely given yourself away to the beast within. I relish the effect I have on you. You revealing yourself, the truth behind the mask of civility. It's flattering that you show this to me and at the same time I feel fear. I'm at the mercy of the beast now. 

You are in charge and all I can do now is hang on hard. One final thrust, it goes in deep. I almost choke as you hit the back of my throat. Hot spurts fill my mouth with each spasm of your cock. It's sweet, and yet sour at the same time. The texture is strange, like the soft kernel of a tender coconut. I let it ooze out of my mouth. You don't notice me rinse my mouth in the shower. You are still breathing hard from the encounter. 

I feel elated. I had done something I've never done before, and judging by your reaction, you enjoyed it. You've broken yet another barrier inside my mind. The idea of Us is slowly cementing inside my mind. 

(to be cont...) 

My Session With You

It's your domain, and I chose to walk in on my own volition. I know I forfeit any right the moment I enter, and yet that is exactly what I crave. You don't smile; it's not a game for you, and your saturnian demeanour impresses upon me the depths that I have dared to enter. 

You make me remove everything I wear, watching with those dark eyes, capturing my every moment. I meet your eyes, a little defiant, a little proud. I do have a great body. But as I proceed to remove my wedding ring, you stop me. You make me slip it back on. You brook no sass, I knew that. I knew that all along. I lower my eyes. 

You move in. 

All throughout the session, I am aware of the slightly dull gold ring. It burns me with the shame as I let you subject me to your brand of sadism. It's a reminder of all the things I shouldn't do and yet I do. It's a reminder of all the things that I turned my back on, even if only for this night. And this reminder let's me experience this decadence that much more clearly. 

The Soother

     Tiffany took each step with both dread and relief; they were defiant in that they refused to yield to the dread. He backpack weighed twice as much as she walked into the park. She pulled out her phone and checked the time on the home-screen. Elsa of Frozen smiled encouragingly at her while the digital clock above her head displayed 10 : 30 am. She would have been in English class if she hadn't decided to play the truant.

    She walked aimlessly around trying to decide what she ought to do if someone called her on the mobile. But so far no call came. Maybe they thought she was at home on a sick leave. Straight 'A' students don't skive. But there she was loitering in the near empty park. No one paid any attention to her, not the hobo who was lying in one of the benches, whistling a tune to himself, nor the park employee who pushed along a garbage can filled with leaves and twigs.

Tiffany revelled in the anonymity, but she was also scared that she might be taken advantage of. So she took off along a footpath that lead to the small lake. This time of the year it would be drained and no one would bother being there. She never did.

     As she anticipated, the pond was nearly empty save a small pond in the middle. She walked along the squishy mud that once formed the lake bed looking for a place to wait out the school day. Thinking about the school brought out her fears. Would she be expelled? Would she lose a grade for not turning in the essay on time? 

     The stupid essay that brought her here. It was supposed to be extra credits. She should have refused she reckoned it but it was too late now. Saying that the wind blew away her papers sounded stupid even to her, even though that was exactly what had happened. It was her beast of a little brother's fault, him and his stupid water gun. Her mom did not even punish him. She sided with, saying that he was just little boy and besides she could rewrite it all again. She did just that and had to cancel a date with Matt, which in turn made him mad. It was unfair that everyone wanted so much from her. She had given up on the essay mid way through and had slumped on her bed with a throbbing headache. 

     Tiffany found a small niche by the banks. It would have been impossible to get to it had the lake been full. She dropped her bag there and sat down. She was debating whether she ought to send a message to Patty, telling her where she was but thought better of it. Secrecy had never been her best friend's strong suit. Is she messaged her, she'd probably text her mom about what she had done. 

     "Hello." 

     Tiffany jumped at the voice. It was a girl, about her age and a little shorter than her but somehow, the new comer managed to look rangy. Maybe it was her tattered jeans or maybe it was the guitar bag slung over her back.

     "That's my spot. Care to scoot over a bit?"

     Tiffany was still ogling at the girl. She seemed oddly familiar and especially her voice. 

    "Umm.. sure." She gathered her bag and set it aside, making room for the girl. 

    "Do I know you?" The girl asked. "Oh, wait. You are that kid who won the district quiz competition for our school, right?"

     Tiffany stared. It was not good. This girl knew her. What if she babbled?

     "I'm Jane, by the way."

     "I'm Tiffany."

     "So what brings you to my hideout, Tiff?"

   Tiff? Only her friends called her that, but given the circumstances she decided to let it slide. 

     "Nothin'."

     "Yeah, right."

     Tiffany was trying to place the girl when the guitar jolted her memory. She remembered her. Jane was her senior at school. She was the girl who clobbered the music teacher for getting a little comfortable with her or so she alleged. The music teacher had said that he was trying to teach her how to hold the guitar properly when she went berserk on him. And given her history, everyone sided with the music teacher.

     Jane slid out a pack of cigarettes from her jeans pocket and stuck one in her mouth and offered one for Tiffany.

     "No, I don't smoke."

     "Mind if I do?"

     Tiffany was struck by her consideration. 

     "Actually, I can't stand the smoke," she said apologetically.

    "No point in breathing in second hand smoke and suffering if you're not gonna get the pleasure of nicotine." Jane stuffed the cigarette back in its case and put it back in her pocket. 

     "I know who you are too," Tiffany said eyeing the guitar.

     "Yeah? That was last year."

     "So um... did you actually hit him with it?"

    "Not with this baby. It's too precious to bash his head in with. I used one the school's."

     "Did he er... you know?"

    "That son of a bitch was feeling my boobs. Was I supposed to let that prick paw me?"

     They sat in silence for a while. Tiffany sensed Jane work away her anger.

     "So, what brings you here?"

     "I er... I have an unfinished essay that's due today."

     Jane laughed. " That was it? A paper you didn't turn-in on time?"

    Tiffany's face went red. She looked away and pretended to be interested in the ant that was scurrying up a tree trunk. What does she know about how she I feel? The constant pressure to be the best, to be good, to be reliable; it was all too much. She hadn't had time for herself these past few months. She was either busy with school work or she was busy helping her friends with their assignments. Even at home she had little time of her own. Even the latest Janet Evanovich book she had bought last week lay untouched on top of her book shelf. Jane would never understand, she wasn't bothered about college or her career like Tiffany was. 

      "Feel overwhelmed, do ya?" 

     Again the girl surprised Tiffany. Was she that obvious?

     "A little," Tiffany conceded.

     "Well,  I've the perfect remedy for that."

     "Huh.. What's that?"

     "Do trust me?"

    Tiffany was divided. Obviously Jane had something that was not exactly proper on her mind, she still nodded. 

     "'Kay. Close your eyes."

     Tiffany did as she was told, nothing new to her.

     "No peeking." 

     An unnecessary warning, if Tiffany knew anything better than her studies, it was obedience.

     Tiffany opened her eyes with a start; Jane's had placed a hand on her thigh.

     Jane smirked and said, "Relax, girly, and close your eyes."

    The hand remained on the thigh but Tiffany didn't do anything to remove it. Emboldened Jane slid the hand around to her inner thigh. Tiffany's lips parted. The tender touch of another person was more than welcome. She had forgotten how good it felt when Matt felt her up.

     The hand inched a little higher, Tiffany felt it rest so very close to her sex. The warmth from Jane's hand set up a chain reaction in Tiffany. She was heating up and fast. And then with the slightest of movement Jane brushed her index finger over Tiffany's crotch; the touch arrived distilled through the  jeans onto her pussy. Tiffany gasped. Jane took that as a consent and started stroking the inner thigh and between those strokes she would occasionally run her index over the entire length of her crotch.

    Tiffany's mind halted; worries of her unfinished school work, the curfew, the annoying brother, the needy boyfriend, and her demanding friends just disappeared. At that moment all that existed was the hand that was stroking her, building her heat. She turned and looked right into Jane's eyes, her expression questioning. Jane merely smiled, not the lewd smirk of a sexual predator who found that her prey was a slutty bitch, but one of compassion instead, it seemed to say that she understood, she had been there and soon it will all be alright. Tiffany's doubts vanished.

   Jane moved closer to Tiffany and made her lean back on her chest and rested her head on her shoulder. One hand snaked around Tiffany's waist pulling her closer. The other hand continued to caress Tiffany's thighs. Jane gently massaged Tiffany's breasts, alternating between the two. Tiffany clenched her jaws and stifled a moan. The ground was hard beneath her but the clean, soft feel of the girl behind her invited her to press in even closer. Jane undid the button on the jeans and slipped a hand in towards her hot core. The fingers were cool against her hot skin. The soft massaging of the breasts turned a little rough but that only sent intense heat and pleasure coursing through her body.

 

    Tiffany took a sharp gasp as Jane slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and reached the soft sprinkle of pubic hair. The fingers forged through them and reached the nether lips. Tiffany throbbed with need. With an ever so slightly undulation of her hips she sought out the fingers that invaded her, fitting herself with the curve of the cupped fingers. But Jane stilled Tiffany with her other hand and she started to massage her down there. In the constrained space within the crotch of a tight jeans, every small movement managed to touch all the sensitive spots. The heel of the palm serviced the clit gently while the fingers had parted the lips and rubbed the well lubricated pussy. 

  Tiffany let Jane's fingers play her like a guitar, each touch eliciting a different melody from her. The pace increased, giving Tiffany little time to catch her breath. She was lost in the sensations that kept one step ahead of her, keeping her guessing. The music was reaching a crescendo under Jane's direction. Sparks erupted all over Tiffany as she came hard, drenching her panties and jeans. She reclined on Jane who was still stroking at a languid pace, composing an end to her music. 

    Tiffany came to her senses shortly. The full import of the exchange hit her hard. She turned and looked beseechingly at Jane. 

     "This was just a one-off deal," Jane said.

     "Um.. Thank you."

    "You should learn to say no to people, or else they will trod all over ya,"  Jane said as she wiped her finger on Tiffany's jeans. "Feel better?"

      "Yeah." Tiffany smiled.

    "So, what are ya still hanging around here for? Go on, get back to school. It's noodles on Mondays. You don't want to miss that."

***

     Tiffany later reminisced the whole incident at the park. It had changed her in more ways than she cared to admit. Jane had said it was just an one time favour, but Tiffany sensed that it might not be the case. She smiled at the little discovery she made that day.

Sunday Morning

     I wake up to a warmth that cups my balls, I stir, but I don't open my eyes.

     "Guess what? I found my eggs," Wen chirps, "but they are all shrunken."

     "And whose fault is that?" I mumble into the thick mattress.

     My cock stays limp even with her skilled ministrations. It must definitely annoy her. I smile into the bed, still unwilling to get up and greet Easter.

     "You know, there's a way to get me all nice and hard."

     "Huh? What's that?"

     I reach out and trace a finger on her lips.

     "Fat chance. You have no idea the..."

     I place my finger on her lips, silencing her little lecture about hygiene which I'm sure would've progressed into a full blown seminar on microbiology. I pull her closer to lie beside me and kiss her lightly on the lips.

     Usually, I laze around in bed till noon on Sundays, catching up on all the missed hours of sleep during the weekdays. I rise my head to glance at the digital clock whose alarm whose snooze button has borne the burnt of my ire every morning. It's just nine. I hear a car pull out from the driveway next door. Pious bunch, my neighbours. I return my attention to Wen. She's still stroking my shrunken cock, her head nestled below my chin. I like her persistence. But she's fighting a lost cause.

     She's greedy. It was just last night that I pumped all my reserve into her and I might have lasted a little longer if she hadn't squeezed me with her PC in sync with my withdraws. It got the underside of my sensitive head so damn well. Of course we went at it four times (or was it five?). The point is, I'm dry this morning. If she had tried her magic fingers a little earlier, then she might have found me rising to the occasion, literally.

     Oh, well. If she's this horny then I can maybe seduce her into it. I still her hands with mine. She looks up and meets my eyes, enquiringly. I just kiss her. I try not to think about how stale my mouth would taste to her. I pull back and slide a lower till my mouth is at her breasts. I give the puckered nipple a slight lick and blow cool air over it. She shrinks back from the sensation. I move in and take her entire breast into my mouth. With steady strokes of my tongue and suction of my mouth, I soon have her holding my head tight against her.

     I nudge her over onto her back and climb over, working away on the other breast, while my fingers takeover the first one. She still hasn't lost focus on my cock, as she uses her knee to rub me down there. I pray that she doesn't crush my nuts. That would be such a dampener.

     I slide lower, flicking my tongue over her navel. My hands rest on her hips, and such nice ones she has too. Smooth and a little fleshy. I squeeze her with me hands. She rises her bottom and rubs herself on my chest. Patience, Wen.

     I move further down. I can sense her tense up. She has this silly rule about oral which is - absolutely not! Maybe being a doctor puts you off of certain aspects of sex. Anyway I'm convinced that it's just her own self consciousness that prevents her from letting me greet her snatch with my mouth or vice versa.

     She cranes her neck to look down at me. Our eyes meet. Some of the most meaningful exchanges we had were in silence. This one's no different. I read reluctance and lust, while I convey reassurance and confidence. She let's her head fall back to the pillow. A 'go ahead' sign.

     She parts her legs a little wider. No matter how many times I have seen her, the sight just sends primal hunger rippling through me. The filtered light coming in through the curtains glints off the tiny golden hair that flecks her abdomen. They are in complete contrast with the dark cropped hair the cover her snatch. She isn't too keen on letting a sharp blade scrape her skin and goes as far as to suggest that I just trim and not clean shave. This is one of the areas that I defy her. But I know that she prefers me clean shaven. Heck, I prefer me clean shaven.

     I run my fingers across her prickly not-so-dense bush. Her stomach quivers in anticipation. That is a sight that I could keep staring at for ever. I tear my eyes from the soft belly and focus on the snatch. I can smell my self on her, that familiar faint smell of a fruit whose name I can't place. She sure drained me last night. 

     I move my fingers to peel apart her nether lips, a glistening pink flesh greets me. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I dip in. She shudders at the initial contact. I lick her folds, slow, long ones with the flat of my tongue. More shudders and gasps, they work like a enchantment on me, egging me further. I find her pleasure centre, now more accessible as she blossoms like a flower. I suck it, pressing my face even harder into her. She squirms, as I continue teasing her with my lips and tongue. I sense she's about to climax. The familiar twitch and tightening of the muscles in her abdomen and thighs. I plunge a finger into her to hasten her release. She bucks her hips unabashedly into my face as the pleasure rocks her. I grab onto her bottom and hold her tighter to me, my mind on a singular pursuit of extracting it all from her. 

     She slowly subsides and falls back onto the bed. I nudge her tired thighs apart and settle myself in between them. I'm hard again. Her soft gasps and whimpering had charmed my cock into rigid attention. I slip into her with such an ease that I'm sure had it been any other time she'd have blushed at her wantonness. She doesn't try her her clever tricks today. I guess she was exhausted. After a few thrusts, she reached out with her arms to embrace me, but I'm kneeling as I pound into her. She clutches air and lets her hands fall back, they resort to clenching the bed sheet. I place my palm right above her womb, I can feel my cock sliding in and out of her. I watch her closed eyes and parted lips, the way her breasts sway in tandem to my strokes. I don't think I can last much longer.

     I feel the sensation building up at the base of my spine. I increase my speed. I shift my hands to a spot beside her chest for better support. I'm nearly there. My leaning forward rubs her clit, and she too joins me in the mad rush to go over the edge again. A few more plunges and I go rigid as I shoot blanks into her. It's a little painful but worth it. She comes a little later to the gentler after climax strokes. I fall on top of her, my mouth slightly crusted with her love. She does the unbelievable and kisses me, tasting herself from my lips. The slightly sour and bitter taste combined with the heady aroma, flavoured our deep kiss. 

     I roll off her and lie beside her on my sides, a leg and an arm draped around her, revelling in the intimacy; the way our skins exchanged both pleasure and love, feeding each other the warmth. 

     "Happy Easter," she says, but I'm already slipping into a dazed dreamless sleep.

The Interview

     Val opened the recoding app on her phone and set it beside the coffee mugs that stood on the glass top of the Ottoman. She had her notepad on the ready too, to jot down her own thoughts as the interview proceeded. Harriet Reeding, the activist was sitting beside her on the large sofa with her legs folded beneath her on the cushion. Val smiled at her, pleasantries exchanged and coffees half-drunk, it was time to get on with the questions. 

     "So, you love each other?"

     "Duh!"

     "I know, but please, do bear with me. When did you fall in love?"

     "Hmm..." A smile lights up her face, "It was the final year at college. She was such a bookish thing, and I was a total dunce then. I sought her out and asked her to tutor me, and in return I told her that she can come to the bars wherever I performed and have free drinks. And you know, one thing led to another and here we are, ten years later."

     Val's stubby pencil scribbled away on the pad while she listened. "You both got pregnant. Was that via IVF? 

     "Yeah. I gave birth to our son, Greg, 'n she, our daughter, Tess.

     "That's wonderful. How old are the two?"

     "Greg's four 'n Tess is two".

     "That's brave of you; to have another kid while the first one's still a toddler." Val was of the opinion that her two nephews and her niece were responsible for her younger sister's premature ageing.

     "Yeah, it was crazy at times, but we managed."

     "Okay, another silly question, but my editor's dying to know - who wears the pants in your relationship?"

     Harriet greeted the question with laughter. "Both of us," she said, mirth still lingering on her face, "I prefer jeans, and she wouldn't wear anything other than cotton."

     "That should satisfy her. So back to the serious questions. How did your parents take the news?" 

     "Mine were never around, and I doubt they even know I'm married. But hers were oof... You wouldn't believe the words her usually pleasant mum used. Her dad, though, was confused, and I was worried that he might collapse under the stress then, but he came around first, admittedly a couple of years later, but still that's something. Her mum still hasn't talked to her yet. That's one stubborn woman. And by the way, don't print that." 

     Val wrote down 'parents', and circled it. "Wow. That must have been quite some experience. How did Vanessa handle the rejection from her parents?"

     "God, it was awful. She cried every single night for months. And in the mornings, she'd wash up and go to work with dark circles around her eyes. She looked like a panda (Don't print this one too.) It wasn't right for a mother to say those things about her own daughter. It just isn't. What kind of a mother would resent her child's happiness? That's madness, that."

     "I can imagine. But truth be told, mothers are humans too, and it's not obligatory for them to love their children. I'm glad you both love yours."

     "Yeah, we do. I mean, why wouldn't we? Sure they throw tantrums but hey, they are just kids. It's up to us to teach them to be loving, caring and responsible. That's what a parent's there for."

     "Yes, quite right. Does your own childhood influence your thoughts on this?"

     "Sure. I mean, I had to fend for myself. I made a lot of mistakes. Sometimes I wonder how I even made it to adulthood. And then She happened. Man, She was such a rudder."

     "You were gay before you met her?"

     "Yup. She wasn't though. I bent her." She laughed as she said it.

     "You have voiced your support for same sex marriages. And you have led a few rallies too. What stage do you think our country is at right now, in accepting same sex couples?"

     "We have the media's attention and nearly everyone's aware. It will be quite some time before we are completely accepted. Yeah, we'll get there." 

     "Do you extend your support to the entire spectrum - BTQ?" 

     "Yeah, definitely!" Harriet's answer came fast, like she'd practised this, "People shouldn't be forced to conform to one thing or 'nother. Each of us is different. Tryin' to be anything else can be very frustrating and sometimes even hellish. We should be free to choose our own paths. Just because it isn't the same as that of the majority doesn't mean that they shouldn't. Love, man, it chooses for you. And if you lose it then what's the point of being a human?"

     "Love, such a precious thing." Val pushed up her glasses back up her nose. "Just to be clear, do you support consensual deviations? Multi-amory, BDSM, Swingers and such?"

     "Not my kinks, but yeah. It's the same thing. If that's what you want you should do it as long as the other person or persons are ok with it too. No one but those directly involved get to have a say. It's their life. The only one they've got. And to live it in agony of self denial is just not right."

     "I want to revisit a previous aspect of this interview. The parents. What do you think they felt when you both came out?"

     "Fear of the society." Harriet seemed to be in her element. "I believe her mother lashed out because she was afraid of what other people might say. She imagined that her daughter would become an outcast or something. And she's right up to an extent, but that's just a phase. People soon realise that we are still the same after some time. We are still capable of doing our jobs, paying the taxes, and stuff."

     "Yes, fear. It's such a potent motivator. And you are a parent, how do you feel now?"

     "I'll defend my babies' rights. I'll be supportive."

     Val nodded at Harriet's answer, and she took a sip of the lukewarm coffee while she considered how best to phrase her next question. "A hypothetical question. Let's say that your children fall in love with each other, would you allow that?"

     "What! No. I mean, no one falls in love with a sibling. Growing up together just sucks the romantic aspect out. That's just not possible."

     The outburst form Harriet was a mild surprise. "Why not? It has happened, is still happening. Besides it's just a hypothetical question." 

     "But they are brother and sister." Harriet sounded as if that clarified her point.

     "Bigoted straight people say something similar about same sex relationships. Kids are curious. They tend to explore their body and if one finds the other's body different there's bound to be even more curiosity. And assuming that you raise them in a sex positive environment it still doesn't change things."

     "Incest is not right. In any form."

     "Why do you think that? If it's consensual, what do you think is wrong with it?"

     "Hello, congenital diseases."

     "A simple problem to overcome. IVF. I'm sure, in about a decade or two, we will have advanced far enough to eliminate the possibility of a congenital disease. And moreover, not everyone who are in a relationship look forward to having a child."

     "You are twisting my words." Harriet crossed her arms and leaned back, eyeing Val with suspicion.
 
     Val knew Harriet was running out of defences, and she pressed in further, "No, I'm not. There are people out there, old and young, who walk around carrying the guilt of their thoughts and desires. Don't they deserve happiness? And imagine how much more productive they can be at work if they do not have those emotional burdens to carry, if their love was not a stigma any more."

     Having said her piece, she folded her little notepad with the pencil bookmarking the page and sat up erect, leaning towards Harriet a little, watching the woman intently for a reply, but Harriet disappointed her

     "Do you practice incest?"

     "No. The issue is, should we tolerate it?"