Deirdre
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2009 by Lady White

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - The story of a slut.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   BiSexual   True Story   Spanking   Humiliation   Gang Bang   Group Sex   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Sex Toys   Water Sports   Voyeurism  

We sat there, not saying a word for some time. Elsie broke the silence, saying, "So how was your first time?"

"It sucked, Elsie. Those two are creeps. I don't want to see them again."

"Yeah, I guess I don't either," she said as she lit up a Marlboro, and exhaled through her nose.


We were quick to admit we liked getting laid, but soon realized that there must be a more orderly process to doing so. Of course, being as young as we were, we didn't put it quite that way.

I admired Elsie for her self confidence and ballsy demeanor. She oozed sex like a neon light on a moth filed night in her charming gum chewing, lip smacking way. Back then she was much better at telling stories than I, but, I realized she loved to hear me tell of my own little adventures with the guys.

Elsie was wildly masturbating as I regaled her with my misadventures with Lee in the toilet. She was shameless, a trait I soon adopted for myself, frigging away, trying to fist herself, but failing, (We would figure it out soon enough.) as she wheedled the story out of me.

"You offered to drink his piss?"

I nodded.

"Did you do it?'

I nodded.

"Did it splash all over you?"

"No, he'd already started in the sink. He didn't have all that much left by the time he held it up to my mouth."

"I can't believe you did it," she said. I wondered why she hadn't bothered asking me what he tasted like. I decided she already knew what a guy's urine tasted like. Maybe not Lee's, but she'd sampled some someplace. I waited, hoping she'd tell me, but she never did.


We got together at Elsie's the following afternoon, when I left Dillard's at four. I worked as a salesgirl in the fragrance department. Elsie did hair styling at a strip mall a few miles away from where I worked.

We were lounging around in our undies; I was doing her toenails and asked as innocently as possible, "So Elsie, what are your favorite sex fantasies?"

Elsie lit another cigarette, tipped her head towards her shoulder, and blew smoke rings while she considered her answer. She squirmed in her seat and adjusted the thinnest part of her thong that had gotten stuck in the crack of her ass.

Through squinted eyes she said, "I dunno, I never fantasize, do you?"

"Sure I do. Everyone does."

"I don't," she said emphatically.

"Fuck you," I said, "Cosmo says everyone does. You tell me you wanna get fucked ... stands to reason you've thought about how you wanna get fucked."

"Yeah," she said after a time, conceding the point.

I continued to probe, suggesting that only a day earlier, the guys had her and me doing shit we didn't want to, but we did it anyway.

She took another drag and looked sidewise at me, certain that something was afoot. "Yeah, we did. I bet we could'a got them to do us differently."

I started on another toe.

"Where are you going with this?" she asked suspiciously.

"I dunno," I said. "I dream about getting laid by two guys sometimes. And maybe being tied up ... spread-eagled, you know? Sometimes I think about being at the mercy of some guy with a big dick. You ever ... have thoughts like that?"

She laughed at me and shrugged. "Who doesn't?" she said with a wide smirk. "Did you know that your pussy has the biggest lips?"

"What?" I said, caught off guard.

"Yeah, I noticed it when I was going down on you. You've got really thick lips down there, kiddo."

"I ... I never really noticed." That was a lie. Of course I'd noticed them. I had never considered them odd, before Elsie's comment.

Ever the practical friend, Elsie produced a mirror and had me hold it between my legs, then tugged my panties to one side. I looked, and then really looked. It was the first time I had actually taken a serious look at myself down there.

"Pussies are like cocks in many respects," Elsie said authoritatively.

"What?"

She tugged her underwear off and spread her legs, affording me a view of her personal treasure. She had thin, lips that hung loosely, and were not close together like mine.

"Like I said, guy's cocks are thin and thick, long and short. Basically, they come in all shapes and sizes. Pussies are much the same. If you see enough of them, you'll see I'm right. Um, you know Louise Travers?"

I shook my head. Louise had gone to High School with us.

"Well, her lips were long and spread out. It was like ... you know, at the gynecologist's when she opens you up?"

I nodded again.

"Only she wouldn't have to spread Louise apart, she was already there. She was the first cunt I actually took note of. After that I checked out the girls at every opportunity."

"Do guys notice the difference?" I asked.

"I dunno. Maybe, but I think they're to hot to trot when they see one. All they wanna do is put it into you, you know what I mean?"

"I guess," I said, and then, changing the subject, I asked, "So what do we do tonight?"

"There are two dances I know of. One's at St. Lucy's; and one's at Mount Carmel."

"Ugh, not St. Lucy's," I said. Recalling the pimply-faced guy I let take me home the year before.

"So Mount Carmel?"

"Yeah ... sure," I answered, still thinking about the thick lips of my cunt.

Later that Evening

My adrenaline was surging as we ventured out into the night. Elsie and I were flying high after sharing a couple joints. We were dressed in our sluttiest attire, with Elsie in a short blue skirt with a matching halter top; and a pair of black stilettos encased her painted toes. As for me, well, I wore a very short, black dress, and strapped black sandals. My only accessories were my cat green eyes.

We met a couple of guys and left the dance to party at a place that served booze. The guys swore we could get in without ID.

As their car maneuvered into a fairly tight parking space, we could hear as well as feel the heart thumping music and the low roar of those inside.

I don't know about Elsie, but it was my first time in a bar, and I was delighted when no one asked me for identification. My guess is Elsie felt the same, for she exuded a royal persona, preening this way, then that, while I perched happily on the stool next to her.

Moments later, with a martini in hand, I turned to observe the unfolding tableau. As I scanned the crowd, my eyes came to rest on a handsome, feral eyed, piece of beefcake. He looked like Marlon Brando in The Wild One, with his white tee shirt, and pack of cigarettes rolled up under his sleeve. His name was Chang; I never learned his first name. He was Chinese-American, with short spiked hair, sharp, chiseled features and steely gray eyes.

When Chang finally noticed us, he raised his hand and beckoned her over. Elsie was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and excused herself to join him in a cloistered nook. The club had alcoves where couples could huddle with some semblance of privacy. I followed her, moments later, determined to eavesdrop, and possibly hookup with one of Chang's buddy's.

 
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