I expected her to avoid me all day, but she was downstairs quietly eating toast when I pulled myself together and went down for breakfast. She was cheery and acted as if nothing had happened, doing her level best to make easy conversation and avoid any embarrassing silences and therefore the need for apologies or explanation. In return, I tried to push from my mind the memory of her hand between her legs, and the recurring visions of her alone and naked, her legs up and wide open, mirroring my dirty actions.
She told me she hadn’t spent another day sight-seeing with her mum and my daughter as she wanted to go into town to get a dress for her sixth-form prom night. She was hoping that I would take her in and, I surmised, since she had yet to allude once to the fact that she had caught me playing frantically with myself, it was probably the least I could do. When I agreed, her face cracked into a big smile and she got up to get ready. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes of her closely confined, chubby bum as she exited the kitchen.
Shopping with her was less of a drag than with my daughter, although she was wide-eyed at practically every dress she saw. She tried a few on and always wanted my opinion, and soon we were giggling away at her fashion-show impersonations. She had always been warm and blessed with humour, but our closeness that day, buoyed by our unmentioned secret, brought her to my attention as a sexual entity for the very first time. When she donned a LBD and did a mock catwalk parade, swinging her bum from side to side in an accentuated wiggle, I felt the familiar warmth radiating from my already tingling pussy.
The next shop proved to be the last in our hunt for clothes. We walked there arm in arm but silent, aware of the frisson between us. She tried on a tight-fitting dress in silver and black, and then called me down to the last cubicle in the fitting rooms to give my verdict. I pulled back the curtain and my jaw dropped open. She was perched on the narrow ledge, the skirt pulled up around her waist and her little knickers like a scrap of cloth at one ankle. Her legs were open and she was pumping two fingers deeply and methodically into the slit of her little pink pussy, letting me see all her seeping wetness, returning my favour from that morning.
Any efforts I could have mustered to think sensibly and avoid ravishing this delicious young thing – my own cousin’s daughter – evaporated in an instant. I knew her eyes were open and on me, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her tight, sticky puss.
‘Please fuck me,’ she breathed, ‘I’ve never done it before.’
I rushed her back into her clothes, and she fumbled at buttons in her bubbling excitement, seeing how flushed and eager I was to get her out of there so I could take her precious virginity. I pulled her to the counter and bought her the dress, and then took her by the hand and hurried her from the shop as she softly squealed with glee. Before we had even left the store I knew I was in trouble. My knickers were drenched and my pussy was insistent, but the realisation had dawned that my husband’s golf would by now be over, and he would already be back at home.
This left a double problem: not only did we have nowhere to go, I also had no toys to use on her. Tongues and fingers had their place, but not for this, not for her first time; she needed a proper fucking. It made sense to delay our passions and arrange another time when we could be home alone, but by the look of her she would rather not wait, and I knew I certainly couldn’t. I was already heading up the top end of the High Street as I racked my brain for a possible location. I didn’t want to fuck her down some back alley or in the toilets of the shopping centre or a department store, but in reality, I knew I might have to resort to this. My pussy was hot and itching for action. I was absolutely gagging for her now, and letting this moment go was simply unthinkable.
If we continued, we could go to the park, site of one of the two lesbian experiences of my life to date. On my twentieth birthday and after much cider, my best friend had bent me over a fallen tree trunk, and finger-fucked me. Just as I began to come, grinding my crotch into the smoothly-weathered wood, she took her slick digits from me and slid one right up my arse. Back then it had been a warm spring evening, the park was all but deserted, and we were drunk. Today, with the heat of summer on us, the whole place would be a mass of sun seekers.
The top of the town was as empty as ever, and there was barely anyone around to witness me drag her into Imagine, the new adult store I’d yet to visit. It too was empty, staffed by a single goth girl, in her early twenties perhaps, her hair frizzed and dyed as black as her heavy eye make-up and coloured nails. She chewed her gum and watched us quizzically as I scoured the shelves for a likely implement within my budget to deflower the panting virgin by my side, if only I could think of somewhere to take her. Emma was speechless with excitement, handling the packets with awe as she tried to imagine the contents being used on her.
I was getting flustered, my mind flitting through countless dirty possibilities as each new toy and accessory was sighted. I wanted to paddle her spankable bum, clamp her teenage nipples, tease her clit by remote control, fill her with a double-ended dildo and shag myself silly too. Emma was right by my side, gripping me with anticipation as I tried to select the perfect dildo to fuck her with. The whole shop must have been filled with our desire for each other. It smelled like my bedroom after an afternoon of concerted masturbation. I don’t think that ever, in my whole rude history, had I been more desperate for another person. I just hoped that I could drag myself past some of the quieter back streets to get her to the relative privacy of the department store toilets.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Goth Girl, which was a reasonable question since we looked far from OK; Emma was holding me and jiggling about, and I was fumbling through packets of toys like an addict at a drugstore counter.
‘No!’ I exclaimed without thinking. ‘I need to fuck this girl before we both explode and I’ve got nowhere to take her!’
I knew I’d gone too far the moment I said it. Goth Girl turned on her heel and headed for the door, and my stomach churned as I realised we were going to be chucked out before I’d even had a chance to buy the toy we needed. I was so deflated I couldn’t even plead, I just waited for her to open the door and demand our exit. But she didn’t open it. She reached up and locked it instead. My heart was banging in my chest as she sauntered back towards us, a wicked smile forming on her lips, and said, ‘Fuck her here. I want to watch you.’
Emma reacted quickest and was kissing me immediately, her tongue pushing into my mouth and swirling around. I was way too far gone to think of tender caresses. I grabbed and squeezed her tits and bottom, and then unbuttoned her cut-offs and pushed them down her thighs. As she stepped back to complete the removal of her shorts, Goth Girl behind me peeled my T-shirt up and over my head, then unclipped my bra to let my breasts bounce free and release my swollen nipples at last from their fabric constriction. My saviour then hurriedly stripped me of my skirt and knickers while I watched Emma, with only a tiny pause for modesty, also remove her damp underwear and cast it aside.
I didn’t give her time to take off her top. I pulled her close and kissed her again, feeling our wet pussies bumping together. My hands were at her arse, finding the run of sweat in her crack and then the slimy touch of her free-flowing juices as my fingers searched downwards and dipped into the hot pool of her cunt from the rear. She gasped and grabbed my backside too, trying to replicate my probing movements and jabbing her finger against my tight anus in her hurry to find her way inside me. I didn’t care, I just wanted filling. I pushed out to encourage deeper insertion but she had realised her mistake and burrowed her hand further between my cheeks to locate her true goal. She managed to get her tips inside me and rub my swollen labia as I ground against her.
Goth Girl wanted to direct proceedings, though. Wielding a dildo in a harness in one hand, she pulled Emma away by her hair and forced her on to all fours, giving me a first look at her plump, smooth-skinned bum opening up before me. I was handed the strap-on and saw that the fitted purple dildo was long and smooth, but nearly twice the girth of the
one I had considered manageable for Emma’s first time. But the juice was dripping from the young girl’s puffy cunt, and the dildo had a shaped end to go up inside me, and I just couldn’t stop myself from climbing into the harness and groaning with relief as the plastic slipped up into my sopping passage and nestled against the sweet spot within me.
I took Emma by the hips and slid slowly into her, hearing her cries but pushing relentlessly on, knowing how amazing it felt to be completely filled for the first time. As I paused to give her time to relax, Goth Girl let her lust overtake her too. She sucked and then bit my nipples, then grabbed a dispenser of tingling lube from the shelf and squeezed two dollops out onto my rock-hard teats. She deposited another thick dollop of lube onto her finger, spat with venom onto my tits, and then hungrily tongue-kissed me whilst reaching down into my deep crack and rubbing the minty lube on to my arse hole. She then broke off her kiss and spat into my open mouth. I didn’t care – I wanted filth, the more of it the better.
Goth Girl left me and went off to grab a demonstration vibrator and a long black paddle from the counter. Then I held the wailing Emma firmly and took her virginity from her with deep, hard, bottom-slapping strokes that forced the yells from her throat and the cream from her pussy. As I fucked, Goth Girl smacked my arse hard with the paddle and called me a dirty lesbo whore, and made me ask for more punishment. The sting was sharp and shocking and set my bum on fire, but it was beautiful pain, and I didn’t just ask for more, I begged for it.
I fucked hard, even though the plastic inside me and the press on the harness against my clit was making me come. The naughty shop-girl finally delivered Emma from her torment and applied the buzzing vibrator to her little clit, extracting wave after wave of climax until the young girl was entirely spent and forced herself off me to collapse on the floor. I still needed more, and Goth Girl was happy to oblige. She ran to another shelf and unboxed two more identical harnesses, both with a built-in moulded black cock. Still fully clothed, she fastened one to her waist and ordered the exhausted Emma to do the same.
I was ordered to climb on top of the shop girl, hold my pussy lips apart and then slide down the thickly-veined false prick. It was as big as any cock I have ever taken, but I was so wet and willing, my muscles just stretched and took it. I rode hard, holding my own tits and pinching the still tingling nipples as I jerked up and down. My second coming threatened to be bigger than my first and I had to stop and hold on, and to my frustration that arrested it, just before it hit its peak. As the tremors went through me, Goth Girl pulled me down close and pushed her tongue into my mouth once more.
I felt her hands squeezing my still-sore buttocks and easing them apart. She pulled out of our snog and ordered Emma to get behind me. I realised with shock what was about to happen, but my pleas for mercy wouldn’t leave my throat. Many years ago, before we were even married, my husband had once tried to put his cock up my bottom, but it had proved too much for me, and he abandoned his quest and had never tried again to this day. I screwed my eyes tight shut as I heard the next command from the cruel girl beneath me.
‘Stick that cock right up her arse and fuck her with it,’ she said.
I felt the blunt end of the dildo press against my minty-lubed anus. The pain was hard to bear. Emma pushed and I squeezed back against the invading plastic and tried to open up for it. My cries were loud but Emma knew no better and took them for ecstasy, pressing on with her mission until my muscles finally yielded. My nerve-endings came alive and I felt every single millimetre of the cock as it slid inexorably into me, and pain broke into unimaginable pleasure as both my hot holes were stuffed full.
I can’t even remember how long they fucked me for, but I seemed to be coming every single second that my young cousin pumped into me and took the cherry I thought I would never lose. I was still half-delirious as Goth Girl unceremoniously made us dress and leave the shop so that she could tidy up and re-open. I do remember that outside the door, in broad daylight, Emma threw her arms around my neck, kissed me, and thanked me for taking her virginity. I smiled at her and then kissed her back, knowing this was just the start of something brilliant and secret between us.
‘And thank you for taking mine,’ I said.
City Girl, Country Girl
by Kristina Wright
“The Farmers Market is open!” Ellie screeched as she slammed the front door of our apartment. “Did you know this was opening weekend?”
Her words were accompanied by a little happy dance. Wiggling elbows and knees, she cha-cha chicken danced over to me on the couch and handed me the steaming coffee she’d gone to fetch for me from the corner coffee shop.
“Um, yeah, I guess,” I mumbled. “I remember seeing a flyer about it. You didn’t know?”
I yawned before taking a sip of my coffee. Two years of living with Ellie and I still wasn’t used to her early-morning weekend cheerfulness. I chalked it up to growing up on a farm in Oklahoma. Ellie was a country girl through and through and I was a grumpily displaced New Yorker, still not quite used to the slower pace of Chicago, or as Ellie called it, “the big ol’ city”.
Ellie was bouncing from foot to foot like she had already downed a couple of triple-shot espressos. “No, I didn’t know. Of course I didn’t know! If I’d known, we would have been down there when they opened at six!”
“We?” I raised an eyebrow. “I love you, babe, but I would notbe up at six for vegetables I can buy at the store.”
Ellie made a hurry-up rolling motion with her hand. “C’mon, c’mon. Stop complaining and let’s go before all the best stuff is gone.”
I wouldn’t say her enthusiasm was exactly contagious, but it was after nine and I’d had my coffee, so I was feeling indulgent. She waskind of cute, my sweet bouncing Okie girl. “All right, I’m coming.”
Ellie grabbed her “Go Green” tote bags – all four of them – and we headed down the street to the farmers market. Ellie was two steps ahead of me the entire way, falling back to let me catch up before her excitement propelled her forward once again. I may not have had much interest in the farmers market, but I did enjoy watching Ellie’s bottom bounce and sway as she two-stepped up the busy street.
Yellow barricades blocked off the farmers market and streets normally filled with cars and cabs were converted into a pedestrian walkway. Stall after stall lined the street, with vendors hawking everything from fresh cut flowers to homegrown produce to local honey from beneath brightly coloured canopies. Ellie practically squealed in delight as she scooped up a bunch of fresh herbs and held it to her nose.
“Smell this, Anne,” she said, holding a leafy green bundle out for me.
I took a whiff. It did smell good. “What is it?”
“Italian blend,” the large woman behind the makeshift counter told us. “Oregano, basil, Italian parsley and marjoram. Great in a sauce or dried for later.”
“I’ll take two,” Ellie said, fishing some money out of her pocket. “I know what I’m making for dinner.”
My stomach rumbled. The only thing I “made” for dinner was reservations, but Ellie was a terrific cook. Her job in public relations for a nonprofit agency meant I hardly got to see her – and she hardly had time to cook. This farmers market idea was turning out to be a positive thing all away around.
Ellie had skipped ahead and was now buying a bevy of vegetables. I saw mushrooms, zucchini, squash and another bundle of herbs disappear into one of her tote bags. She held up a large red tomato for me to smell.
“These smell like real tomatoes, not those horrible store-bought ones.”
I couldn’t argue with her. The tomato smelledas ripe and juicy as it looked. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but my mouth was already watering for whatever Ellie was making for dinner.
Another hour later and I was carrying a bouquet of sunflowers and a tote bag of fresh whole-wheat pasta and goat’s milk cheese. The farmers market was winding down for the day and people wandered away with their purchases like ants a
t a banquet. I felt like I had spent a festive holiday in the country rather than a Saturday morning on a Chicago city street. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself bouncing home with Ellie. Or as close to bouncing as I ever came.
Home again with our bounty, Ellie gave me a toe-curling kiss as she closed the door behind us. As always happens when my girl lays one on me, all rational thought flew out of my mind as I focused on her soft mouth against mine. Somewhere in there, the bags we were carrying fell to the ground with a thump-thud-thump as I pressed Ellie against the door. She moaned into my mouth, that breathy little sound that let me know I was getting to her. Getting her wet, getting her as juicy as those ripe tomatoes she’d bought that were now rolling across the floor.
I pulled back, but only slightly, and murmured against her lips, “What was that for?”
She licked my bottom lip. “For going to the market with me.”
I cupped her luscious bottom in my hands and gave it a squeeze. “I see. Well, I did leave the house awfully early on a Saturday morning. All I get is a kiss?”
Nibbling my collarbone, she giggled. “Well, it was a goodkiss.”
“No argument here,” I said. “But, you know, I could have been reading the paper or napping …”
She looked up at me, lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter. “I see. So, you think your reward should be something more … substantial?”
I smacked her ass, hard enough to make her squeak. “Maybe.”
Ellie may be shorter and thinner than me, but she’s quick. She somehow managed to sweep my legs out from under me so that I was on my back on the hardwood floor. She landed on top of me, all angles and planes. I let out something a little louder than a squeak when one of her bony elbows made contact with my ribs. She giggled, shifting on me in a way that was a little less dangerous and a little more delicious.
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