Lustful Ladies, Volume 1 (2 page)

She quickly scooped up my legs and gripped my thighs to her tits, and began pumping her hips, pistoning her cock back and forth in my anus. It was the weirdest, wildest thing I’d ever felt, the stuffed-full, stoking sensations of having my ass fucked so strange and yet so, so sensual.
 

I gripped my splayed tits together and had the audacity to hiss, “Fuck my ass, Marie. Come on, fuck my ass.”

She fucked my ass, driving long and deep and sure. And she did more than that, pulling a hand off one of my thighs and plunging it down to my pussy, buffing my clit with her fingers as she banged my butt.

I’d completely forgotten I even had a pussy or clit, my dong-swollen bum taking center stage. But Marie’s rubbing fingers reminded me, big-time. My clit was puffed-up huger than it’d ever been, more sensitive to a strumming pair of fingers than I’d ever thought possible. The awesome anal reaming had super-sensitized every other part of me.

“Oh… oh… oh!” I mouthed, not even able to get the welcome words of orgasm out. I was just packed too full, wound too tight, stroked too hard. I jerked, jolted by joy; shuddered again, and again, and again.

I almost tore the bedspread to shreds, my breasts jumping, my clit bursting, my brain exploding. Marie sawed away at my anus, her fingers flying on my clit. I was blasted body and soul by wave after wave of searing ecstasy, everything going bright white inside me and out.

* * *

That was my incredible introduction to the exquisite, exhilarating pleasures of lesbian playtime. I make sure to keep my toy box stocked and handy every time Marie comes to visit, our quality time spent together now more satisfying than ever.

Passion Play

Until I started playing house with Martha, I’d never done a lesbian thing in my life.

We were both eighteen and seniors in high school. I was petite and shy, with big brown eyes and long black hair, a chubby-cheeked face and body. She was tall and athletic, with short red hair and a freckled face with bright blue eyes. I looked up to her, and she protected me at school. She had a real fondness for me the depth of which was truly revealed when we started playing house together.

I guess it was natural. Me being so small and demure and innocent, she being so big and strong-willed and knowledgeable. I’d play the baby and she’d play the mommy.

We were sitting on her bed in her bedroom, discussing it, when she suddenly stood up and walked around the bed and picked me up under the arms and set me down on the carpet.
 

“Be a good little girl and crawl around by yourself now,” she instructed, standing over me. “Mommy has other things to do than play with baby all day.”

I sat on my bum looking up at her. She was wearing just a t-shirt and pair of shorts, like I was, since it was early summer. Her legs were long and tanned and toned, her bare arms folded under her breasts making the pair swell out even bigger. I could clearly see her nipples poking the thin material of her top, like they’d hardened up really rigid for some reason. Her pretty face was firm, red lips set in a line, eyes staring down at me.

I grinned kind of nervously. The last time I’d played house was when I was eight years old, with teddy bear as daddy and my beanie babies as our children. I sheepishly plopped forward onto all-fours and began crawling around Martha’s room. She harrumphed her satisfaction, sat back down on the bed and started flipping through her
Sports Illustrated
again.

I felt so stupid and self-conscious at first, crawling around on my hands and knees like a little baby, my bum sticking up in the air, my back arched. But I quickly got into the role, given my somewhat petulant personality at times. I moved faster, quick-crawling along the carpet, giggling, scooting about the room.

“That’s a good little baby,” Martha said absently, pretending to ignore me.

But I could see she was watching over her magazine, looking at my bounding butt in my tiny pink shorts, at my shivering boobs in my tight white tee. I crawled into every corner, peering in her closet, under the bed, under her desk, before zipping off across the room again.

Then, being a real big baby, seeking attention from her mommy, I went and got naughty. It was a part of my personality I’d never really grown out of, although I kept it pretty well hidden under my quietness. I padded over to Martha’s wardrobe on my hands and knees and pulled the bottom drawer open. I started digging into the drawer and threw the contents up into the air.

Raggedy old sweaters and faded old t-shirts went airborne, parachuted down onto the carpet. Until that drawer was cleaned out, spilled all over the place, and I yanked the second drawer open. This one was full of old jeans and shorts that probably didn’t fit anymore. They flew out and up and plopped down.
 

I joyously re-sorted Martha’s old clothes. Until I suddenly struck Martha’s intimates. My exploring hand squirmed to the back of the drawer and closed around a dildo. I jerked it out.

It was your standard, eight-inch, plastic self-pleasure tool, laminated red, curved at the tip. An unspectacular but trustworthy model for getting the job done. I held it up to my face, goo-gooing and giggling. Then I darted my mischievous eyes over to the owner of the joy-toy and shot Martha a quizzical baby look. Her eyes flashed, her face flushing slightly.

“Hey, you. Where’d you get that?”

I tossed the dildo over my shoulder and dug even deeper into the drawer with both hands. I’d hit the pussy-lode. I discovered Martha’s secret stash of sex toys: dildos, vibrators, jelly dongs in all sizes and colours and speed settings, battery-operated and otherwise. I pulled them out, briefly examined them, then laughed and threw them aside, pawing my way through Martha’s personals.

She jumped up off her bed and rushed over to me, yelling, “Get out of there, you!”

Next, I found a butt-plug. A stubby, black, thick-at-the-base and pointed-at-the-tip butt-plug. I stared at it, then yelped and flung it at Martha when she reached down to grab onto her naughty baby. I shot right in between her legs, out the other side, almost knocking her over. The race was on.

As she gathered up her goodies and deposited them back into her drawer, I tore into her closet and began throwing shoes and sandals around. Martha charged after me and just missed capturing me a second time.

I booted over to her desk, pulled drawers open, and dumped paper and notebooks and school supplies onto the floor—pausing only briefly when I uncovered Martha’s collection of pornographic magazines in the second drawer down on the right-hand side. Issues such as
Girlfriends
and
Pink Heaven
and
Muff Divers
, full of shocking pictures of naked young women engaging in all kinds of lewd and lascivious lesbian acts. I only had a short moment to be surprised, before I burst out giggling and sprinted away on my hands and knees, when Martha let out a bellow and bolted over towards me.

I went to baby-town on her bookcase next, while she rounded up her skin mags. I swept an entire shelf clean with a swipe of my arm. Paperbacks hit the floor with spine-shattering violence, revealing a hidden row behind the vampire and Victorian classics. There were stacked-up DVDs with titles like
Where The Girls Are
,
Scissor Sisters
, and
MILF and Nookies
.

I gulped, gaping at the brazen covers as I pulled them out. These were Martha’s dirty magazines come to pixelated life. There wasn’t a BFI Top 100 Film amongst the entire filthy, girly lot.
 

Martha spotted me dissembling her video library, and steamed towards me. I giggled wildly and hurled a pair of hardcore cases at her. Only this time, when I tried to squirt away from her grasping hands, she caught onto one of my little ankles and jerked me back.

I squealed like a stuck piglet, frantically trying to paddle forward on my hands and one good knee. Who knew what other kinky secrets I’d innocently discover on my rampage? I was about to find out, Martha showing me the way.

“Bad girl!” she chided, swatting me on my bottom. Then she dragged me by both legs back over to her bed.

I was pulled along the floor flat on my face and tummy. I screamed and shrieked and clawed at the carpet, kicking my legs out in Martha’s strong hands. My t-shirt rode up to my chin, my bare boobs getting a buzzing good carpet-burn.

Martha dropped down onto the edge of her bed and dragged me up over her bare knees. “You’re a bad little baby for getting into mommy’s things and making such a mess!”

She yanked down my shorts. My bum cheeks popped out like twin scoops of vanilla jello. Martha smacked my bare bottom.

I instantly stopped wriggling. My butt cheeks flared with the sting of Martha’s hand—and something perverted like pleasure. Her hand cracked down again, and I yelped, and quivered, my bum jiggling with feeling, my body juicing with emotion. Martha spanked me firmly, warmly, repeatedly. I gasped with each and every swat, butt cheeks and body burning, nipples and pussy brimming.

I coiled around her thighs, pressing my bare breasts into her leg on one side, my bared pussy into her leg on the other side. The motherly blows of her hand on my rump guided my nipples and slit and clit up against her hot legs, thrilling me even more. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was feeling. It was discipline and delight all mixed up with mommy punishment-worship. All I knew was I liked it and didn’t want it to end.

Martha felt the squirt against her thigh when she smacked my glowing bottom one final time. “Has baby gone and wet herself?” she said, almost sympathetically.

I twisted my head around and looked up at her, my face flaming like my bum, tears in my eyes. She pulled me right up into her lap and wiped away my tears, then laid me out on my back on her bed, my legs dangling over the side. My butt sizzled against the cool material of the bedspread, my pussy simmering.
 

Martha stood up and grasped my shorts at my knees and pulled them right off. “You are wet, aren’t you?” she said, looking down at my pussy.

I smiled shakily and stuck a finger in my mouth, feeling the trickle between my legs and the throb of my clit under my matted pubes, on display before another woman’s eyes. Martha pulled a towel out of one of the dresser drawers I hadn’t gotten to and rubbed it over my pussy. I jumped, jolted by her touch on my most intimate parts, the texture of the fuzzy towel on my furry sex.

“Let’s get you nice and dry. Then mommy will feed you.”

Martha rubbed between my legs, pressing deep down on my slit, mopping me dry for a moment. Until I surged and seeped with more juice, gazing up at her smiling face and pointing nipples, basking in the heated, dizzy sensation of her stroking my pussy. This was bad mommy/good mommy the best I’d ever experienced it before. My emotions roiled all over the spectrum. I was already confused enough by it all without her mentioning something about
feeding
.

Martha dropped the wet towel and climbed onto the bed with me. She crawled all the way up to the headboard and then leaned back against it. “Come into mommy’s lap, baby girl,” she said. “Time for your feeding.”

I craned my neck and rolled my eyes up at her. She hoisted up her t-shirt, showing me her boobs. They were taut and conical, tanned golden-brown like the rest of her body, capped by jutting, shining nipples. I gulped and gripped the bedspread even tighter, suddenly struck with a strange hunger I’d never experienced before. It was all so weird, but warmly wonderful. It couldn’t be stopped, I had to do what mommy said. I had to obey Martha and my instincts. I swung my legs up and around and rolled back onto my hands and knees, scampered towards Martha and her bared breasts at the head of the bed.

She took me into her arms and cradled me in her lap. “You must really be hungry after all your naughtiness,” she murmured, reading my mind and desires.
 

She brought my head up, my mouth to her breast. Her nipple was thickly engorged, sticking straight out. I opened my mouth, took it between my lips, and sucked on it.

Martha moaned, her eyelids fluttering. She brushed some stray hair out of my face, beaming down at me. I stared up at her all gooey-eyed, earnestly suckling on her nipple, tugging with my lips, my reddened cheeks billowing. This wasn’t your mother’s breastfeeding, by any stretch. But it was so natural and sexually nurturing I wondered why I hadn’t done it before.

I lifted my hand and grabbed onto Martha’s other boob, squeezed the hot, smooth, thick flesh. She moaned again, her lips parted and wet.
 

I sucked on Martha’s one breast, squeezing the other. I didn’t draw milk, just meaningful excitement out of both of us. I shivered with joy, tingling all over in Martha’s arms. She gently rocked me, tilting her head back and sighing. Feminine family fun had never been so wanton and wicked.

Martha shifted me around in her lap so I could suck on her other breast. Her one nipple popped stiff and slithered out of my mouth, and I eagerly consumed her other flowered bud, swallowing up half her breast at the same time. She gazed down at me pulling on her boob with my mouth and gently stroked my face.

I choked on her breast—spat up all but the succulent tip—as Martha’s fingers traced all around my boobs, circled my nipples, making them seize up and pulsate like hers. Then her soft, rounded fingertips brushed down my tummy and into my bush, over my swollen pussy lips. I sucked her nipple so hard I thought it would pop right off into my mouth, her fingers strumming my sensitive lips, stirring me up to new heights of girly delights. I clutched her other breast and tugged on that nipple with my fingers.

“All done?” she asked, way before I was all done. She forced her nipple out of my frantically sucking mouth by lifting my head up. Then she kissed me, on the lips.

Every part of me quivered. Martha’s lips were so soft and warm and silky wet, like plumped-up rose petals after a summer rain. She kissed me again. I grabbed onto her head and smooched her right back.

“Does baby want to lie down again, while mommy plays with her?”

I couldn’t argue, because I couldn’t speak. Martha set me down flat on my back on the bed again. Only this time, she lay on top of me. Her thick, wet nipples pressed against my throbbing buds, our shimmering boobs squishing hotly together, like the rest of our bodies. She kissed me, staring into my eyes. I impetuously darted my tongue in between her lips, into her mouth and up against her tongue. Our slippery lickers swirled together, speaking a lustful language that was anything but baby-talk.