The friction made things hotter for the two women. They went on rubbing and humping against each other. Elle felt her pussy become wetter and stickier than ever. She removed one hand and, along with the panties, tugged Miranda’s tiny shorts down. Miranda did the same and tugged on Elle’s denim shorts, making sure to bring Elle’s panties down too.
Shorts and panties riddled the floor in no time. Now both women were as naked as the day they were born. They held each other apart for a moment to study and inspect closely the body that was sitting bare and beautiful before each woman.
Elle’s breath caught in her throat. Miranda was even more beautiful than she had imagined. She saw Miranda had no hair in her cunt. Miranda’s pussy stood bare and inviting in front of Elle’s eyes. She saw it was glistening slightly and realized Miranda was very wet. Elle’s eyes traveled to her own pussy, and although it was covered with fine curls of light-brown hair—Elle was a brunette—she saw her cunt wasn’t much different from Miranda’s. She willed her eyes to her next-door neighbor, and their eyes met.
Again, without a word passing between them, both women sprang into action. Elle pushed Miranda down into the couch. But instead of lying on top of her, Elle turned around and adjusted her body so that she was face-to-face with Miranda’s pussy and her own pussy was hanging over Miranda’s face. There was no need for words in this case. Both women drove right into the bare piece of flesh that was hanging in front of their respective faces.
For Elle, Miranda tasted as good as she looked. Elle ran her tongue all over the wet pink flesh and enjoyed the sensation of Miranda’s juices coating her mouth. With her hands, she spread Miranda’s lips apart and inserted her tongue in between the crack of Miranda’s most private area. Elle felt Miranda buck and shiver. Feeling naughty, she slid her tongue in even deeper. Miranda bucked and shivered some more, but her motions were now accompanied with deep moaning sounds. This pushed Elle to slide in a finger into Miranda’s cunt. Elle began to move her finger in and out the slippery hole that was nothing but pure Miranda.
Miranda decided to punish Elle with the same amount of intense pleasure by inserting her tongue inside Elle’s pussy as well. Miranda didn’t know it, but Elle was a huge fan of oral sex. The second Miranda’s tongue slid inside her, Elle had to exert all her willpower not to scream out loud in the living room. It felt so fucking good! Elle chose to whimper instead, and she thrust her tongue in and out of Miranda even faster. Miranda followed Elle’s thrusting speed. Both women got dripping wet in no time. Elle’s face was heavily smeared with Miranda’s juices. Miranda’s chin, on the other hand, was dripping with Elle’s juices.
Miranda decided to surprise Elle by inserting a finger inside Elle’s asshole. The movement caught Elle by surprise, and she jerked slightly. Miranda felt the jerk, and hesitated.
“Should I go on?” she asked Elle cautiously.
Elle took a deep breath. “Yes, do go on. It’s fine. Go do your thing.”
And with that, Miranda plunged her finger all the way down Elle’s anus. Elle couldn’t take it any longer. She freed her mouth from Miranda’s wet cunt, threw her head back, and screamed into the living room. Her cries of ecstasy echoed all throughout the empty space. Her cries turned Miranda on, and she told Elle it was okay to go and scream her lungs out.
“The whole house is soundproof,” she told Elle, all the while sliding her finger in and out of Elle’s asshole.
“I’m glad,” Elle answered, breathing heavily. She cried out some more, moving her hips in tune with Miranda’s thrusts. When she thought she couldn’t cry out any longer, she lowered her head into Miranda’s cunt again and lightly sucked on her throbbing clitoris.
Now it was Miranda’s turn to cry out. She moaned and gave out cries of pleasure shamelessly. It was, after all, her house. Miranda spread her legs wider to give Elle more room to do her thing. The couch wasn’t too wide, though, and Miranda had to sling one leg over the back of the couch.
It took a while before the two girls changed their position. They were completely engrossed in eating each other out. Elle had inserted a finger inside Miranda’s asshole as well, and Miranda had inserted a finger inside Elle’s pussy too. The women left no holes uncovered and even had the guts to increase the number of fingers inside the other woman’s body. Elle added another finger inside Miranda’s pussy, which wasn’t a surprise considering Elle would rather be fucked in the vagina than in the anus.
For Miranda, the opposite was true. She was a huge fan of anal sex; it was something she and her husband, Anthony, could never get enough of. Hence, they had decided to make every corner of the house soundproof. “You never know when we’ll get the urge,” she had told her husband while they were in the kitchen one time. Anthony had laughed, and they had done the deed right then and there.
Miranda inserted another finger inside Elle’s anus. When Elle squirmed again, she got the hint. Elle obviously wasn’t into anal sex like she was, Miranda realized. She removed her two fingers from Elle’s anus and, without finesse, rammed them inside Elle’s cunt. Miranda hit the spot this time. Elle shuddered and shivered. She gave another loud cry and got wet almost instantly.
“Fuck me in the anus, darling,” Miranda called out breathlessly.
Elle did just that. She removed her two fingers from inside Miranda’s cunt and, like what Miranda did to her, rammed them inside Miranda’s anus. Miranda screamed in pleasure. She bucked her hips and rose up to take in as much of Elle’s fingers as she can. Elle shifted so she could insert another finger inside Miranda’s asshole. When she did, Miranda clamped her mouth over Elle’s labia and began to suck gently.
The cries of the two women mingled with each other. The living room became an exclusive orgy of some sort. The air was filled with the thick scent of sweat and female juice. There was heavy panting along with the screaming. Limbs were intertwined. Body fluid began to drip on the couch, and the stain spread. As if in tune with the spreading stain, the women began to pound into each other harder, faster, and stronger. Female hips rose up, strained, and humped up and down. Hair flew in all directions, and mouths were moistened both inside and outside with sticky body fluid.
“I’m gonna come, Elle,” Miranda cried out. She shut her eyes, her hips still singing with the tune played by Elle’s fingers inside her anus. She wrapped her legs around Elle’s neck. Elle responded promptly by burying her face even deeper on Miranda’s pussy. Elle could smell, taste, and feel the most private part of gorgeous Miranda Larson. She felt like giving herself a big pat on the back. She wasn’t completely sure, but a large chunk of her was confident she was the only woman on the planet to have ever tasted Miranda Larson.
Elle slightly raised her head from Miranda’s cunt. “Come right away, honey,” she answered. “I’m going to burst real soon too. God, you taste so good.” She bent her head down into Miranda’s cunt again.
The next-door neighbors went on like that for several minutes. For Elle, it was a miracle she held her orgasm off for as long as she did. She was about to burst. She felt it in every pore. The feel of Miranda’s fingers sliding in and out of her down there was magical. There was no way she was going to compare the sensation to Roy’s cock. What she and Miranda had was miles apart from what she and Roy had. There was no need to compare the two, for they were completely different things. There was no wrong or right—there was only different.
Then the wave of ecstasy came rushing over, and Elle surrendered to it. She cried out again and again as wave after wave of pure pleasure rolled off her. In a few minutes, Miranda gave in to her ecstasy-filled sensations as well. When Elle sensed Miranda was about to come, she quickly placed her lips over Miranda’s crack. Elle loved the way Miranda tasted, and she wanted to get every drop of her into her mouth.
Miranda came practically into Elle’s mouth. Some of the fluid trickled down the corner of Elle’s mouth, but she got most of it down. She wanted to pleasure Miranda some more until Miranda could no longer get up in the morning, but Elle
too was spent. She collapsed on top of Miranda’s pussy. Her hips dropped slightly so that Miranda’s face was almost covered by Elle’s most secret area.
What jolted the women into action was the sound of a car turning into the driveway. Elle and Miranda both sat upright, startled by the sound.
“It’s Anthony,” Miranda whispered, and that did things for them. They quickly scrambled around to get dressed. Elle was particularly distraught. She couldn’t imagine Anthony Larson’s reaction if he walked into his house right this instant and saw his wife in the arms of their next-door neighbor’s wife. Oh, the scandal would go on for ages! Elle shuddered at the thought as she pulled her denim shorts up her legs. She hated trouble, and she detested scandals. Then she thought of Roy, and her panic was quickly replaced by horror.
Roy would be heartbroken, that was certain. Somehow, Elle realized the betrayal would be a lot greater than had Elle fooled around with a man. Roy wasn’t a homophobe, but he was very particular with tradition. A woman-to-woman event was something Elle believed Roy wasn’t ready to swallow yet.
“It’s okay,” Miranda assured Elle as Elle hurried to put her ripped shirt on. “He takes a while to come in. We have a few seconds to spare.”
Elle eyed Miranda shrewdly. Miranda was fully dressed by now, and save for the tousled hair, she looked completely normal. Elle kept an ear out for the sound of the car engine. It had gone silent, and she assumed Anthony was in the garage by now. If he stayed as long as Miranda said he would, then that means . . .
“Quick,” Elle instructed. She stepped closer to Miranda, pulled her tank top up to reveal one lacy breast, and yanked the lacy bra down to set one boob free.
Miranda gasped but didn’t move from where she was. “Elle, what are you doing?” she whispered, beginning to feel frantic.
Elle didn’t reply. She placed her lips over Miranda’s soft breast and sucked on like she had all the time to do so. She felt Miranda’s nipple harden inside her mouth. Aroused again, she ran her tongue all over the hardening nub and relished the taste of Miranda—any part of Miranda will do—inside her mouth. Once the nipple had grown erect to its full size, she bit and tugged on it gently.
Miranda, unable to help herself, moaned repeatedly. She knew what they were doing was risky, but she’d be crazy not to give in to Elle’s advances. She moaned again and again as Elle sucked, bit, and nibbled again and again.
Then Anthony’s voice came from the back door: “Miranda, honey?” he called out.
Elle tore her lips from Miranda’s breast and stood up, smiling naughtily. Miranda burst into laughter at Elle’s look and adjusted her tank top back into place. “Silly girl!” she told Elle affectionately.
Elle grinned. “I know,” she answered, and helped herself to a cupcake just as Anthony Larsen walked into the living room and Miranda ran off to greet her husband with open arms.
Intimacy 101
Megan Brioche was her name, and she was our English teacher. I was one of the new faces in the local high school, but even I was not spared from learning about Ms. Brioche’s reputation. She had something of a harsh and cruel streak, I was told. As an English teacher, she had every right to be every inch the grammar nazi that she really was. But you can’t expect a bunch of teenagers to understand that, though, especially those who went through her so-called iron hands. I had no idea what those “iron hands” meant, and I definitely didn’t intend on finding out what they stood for.
I knew Ms. Brioche even before I saw her. She was notoriously popular, but it was funny because the whole thing was done in a sort of hush-hush way. Kids feared or hated her guts but didn’t want her to know about it. Which is, if you think about it, really ironic because Ms. Brioche very much knew how much the kids would pay an arm and a leg just to see her guts burned to the ground. The thought didn’t scare her, I think. I mean, they’re just thoughts anyway. My best friend Bree, who lives on the other side of the world and whom I talk to on a daily basis, told me I should be cautious with the way things were going at school.
“So those kids hate that teacher,” Bree told me during one of our daily Skype sessions. “Doesn’t it creep you out, them thinking that way? They’d love to see that teacher’s guts spilled on the floor, and you’re doing nothing about it.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.
I laughed at her reaction. “You’re being silly,” I said. “They’re just kids. They won’t do whatever it is they dream of doing, trust me. Ms. Brioche’s too scary for that.”
“Yes, but did you know that thoughts eventually make way for actions, Blake?” Bree asked. “You sow a thought and you reap an action, something along those lines.”
I shook my head. “I know it sounds scary, but those kids are just being kids. Ms. Brioche’s teaching us seniors, by the way, and we all want to get out of high school and move on with our lives. No one wants to put that dream on hold, even for Ms. Brioche’s guts.”
“Whatever you say,” Bree replied, shaking her head as well.
That was Bree for you. I knew she would be arguing with me until her all her hair fell off if she was standing right in front of me at that moment. Bree lived to argue, and I secretly believed she would die to argue as well. But that’s just Bree being, well, Bree. I was glad she let me off the hook on the issue with Ms. Brioche. My best friend and I don’t see each other as much as we would like to, and there was no way either of us was going to spoil our regular video sessions over some English teacher whom I’ve never even seen.
To be honest, even though the infamous Ms. Brioche had some unpleasant things tied to her name, I wasn’t worried about her. See, I am obsessed with literature. Translation: I love English. I’ve been reading since forever, and while my interests lean toward the science fiction and mystery genre, I’m not likely to turn my nose up other topics of popular interest, like the classics and the horror department. Reading and writing are my life’s passions. In fact, the first time I got wind of Ms. Brioche and her iron hands, I found myself wondering what her favorite books were and who her favorite authors were.
When I made my grand appearance at the high school, Ms. Brioche was on a two-month leave, hence I wasn’t able to attach a face to the popular name right away. Mr. Hanes took Ms. Brioche’s place for the whole two months. Save for his stiff, severe clothing and lousy necktie choices, Mr. Hanes was a terrific teacher. I enjoyed his classes thoroughly, and I could tell the non-English aficionados were having a great time too. I finally had the guts to ask Michelle, one of my English classmates, something that had been bothering me for some time.
“Is Ms. Brioche as fantastic as Mr. Hanes?” I asked Michelle, scooping my books into my backpack.
Michelle looked at me from head to toe, although not unkindly, and smiled mysteriously. The smile made me nervous for some reason, so I didn’t smile back. “You’ll see,” she answered, as mysterious as her smile. “Ms. Brioche’s coming back the day after tomorrow. You’ll know soon enough, Blake.”
Okay, so people were touchy on the subject of Ms. Brioche. I frowned, trying to make something out of my conversation with Michelle, then shrugged. To hell with Ms. Brioche!
Michelle was right. Two days later, Mr. Hanes was nowhere in sight and Ms. Brioche was in his place. Well, it was her place, technically speaking. I had forgotten Michelle’s bit of information and was sort of groggy that day. So when I tumbled half-sleepily into the room and saw a woman instead of the usual Mr. Hanes, I initially thought I had stepped into the wrong class. But there was Michelle in her usual seat, Marcus in the back row like he always was, and I saw a bunch of other kids who were clustered and seated in their usual places. I definitely had to be in the right class.
Then Michelle gave me a wave, and it was only when I made my way toward her that I remembered Ms. Brioche was set to be back this very day. And, boy, was she very back! I sat in my usual chair on Michelle’s left. She nodded to say hi, and I smiled back, although a bit hesitatingly. I stole a glance at my watch. There
were still five minutes to go before class officially began, but it was so quiet already.
I glanced around. Was this really the rowdy English class I came to every Wednesday morning? Unbelievable. I sat straight in my chair and focused my attention on the woman seated behind the desk on the platform. She seemed to have an extra sense or something, because she looked at me just as I looked at her.
Our eyes met.
It was the very first time I saw Ms. Brioche in the flesh and in the face. Her reputation was wrinkled and ugly, and I somehow associated the same adjectives in terms of her physical appearance. But I was wrong. Ms. Brioche may be known as something of a wicked witch in school, but the same definitely can’t be said of her looks.
101 EROTICA STORIES Page 123
