She Moves Me
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Lesbian, True Story, Hispanic Female, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Teacher/Student, Transformation,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This twisted tale is a Harlequin Romance on steroids, or perhaps, on aphrodisiacs. A romance explodes between a hesitant college dean and the campus slut. Both undergo a metamorphosis during the sexcapades. Plot builds before sex, but the sex is ribald, tawdry, and hot. The next submission will complete this story.
"Again, Sochie? There isn't anything I can do if you keep cutting Dr. Blanchard's chemistry class. You need to stop."
"Dr. Blubber's a bitch, " said the strong-willed Latina with amber eyes. The college sophomore went on talking about something as I fanned my face with a nearby memo while trying to fight the urge to keep from looking at the young woman's body. The cooling air conditioner in my cramped dean's office provided little relief for the warm flush on my cheeks.
I loved her.
Clad in sandals accenting lime-green toenails at the end of a small bobbing foot, Sochie personified gorgeous. My eyes moved up from her foot to a bronze leg resting across the knee of the other. At the cleft of crossed legs, her womanhood hid in a fashionably wrinkled blue jean skirt. Taut and tempting, her midriff showed distinctive lines of well-defined abs. A skin-tight tank top stretched over full breasts, serving as eye candy for women of my ilk; odd women confused about the need for same sex love. Designer clothing and mature features combined into a heady youth who exuded class. Sochie's beauty stimulated my pussy—a pussy ripe with need.
Nonetheless, in simple terms, student to staff relationships meant trouble. Loving Sochie meant certain fucking trouble for a woman like me, but damn, the girl oozed sex and temptation.
" ... are you even listening to me?"
"Hmm?" I asked.
"What's up with you, Dr. Tyson?" she said, pausing a few seconds. "You're supposed to counsel, not stare at my tits."
"What? Stop it, Sochie—not staring," I said, crimson filling my cheeks.
"Ha! Well if you say so," she replied in a cheeky response. A smug grin briefly flashed across her face. The grin attracted me, because Sochie knew how to work a grin for maximum effect.
After a few long seconds, I tried to lay out her problem. For some reason, my mouth and brain didn't cooperate, "Dr. Blubber—Blanchard..." I winced and glanced up at Sochie. 'Bitch' suited Blanchard perfectly, perhaps 'fat bitch' defined her a tad better. However, my position didn't include the right to call the faculty names. I hated playing bad cop with anyone, none more so than Sochie.
After an awkward little pause, I said, "Dr. Blanchard's not going to let you get away with it. She plays a mean game of hardball. If you continue to cut her class, well, chances are I'll be seeing you at Taco Bell. They're always hiring." I let my words sink in. From the look on her carefree face, the words didn't sink. I tried again.
"We've been discussing this academic mind-set of yours since you transferred last fall. This humble community college is your last shot—grow up."
Uncomfortably quiet, Sochie stared at my breasts while chewing on apple scented bubblegum. Pursing her lips, she moved her eyes from my breasts to face and looked at me, sending a clear message of desire. I looked at her and felt some guilt. My guilt didn't stop me from looking.
Admiring her pleasant face and breasts, I sighed, realizing another night with my vibrator waited for me. Jet-black hair bounced like a Slinky when she moved, and her tresses curled perfectly on the front of firm breasts. Accenting an inherent sexiness born of fortunate breeding, a small sapphire twinkled lightly in the crevice of her nose. Her mouth fascinated me, with bright red lips curling in an awkward smile. Sochie played a major factor in the current success this dean's fantasies ... and a major factor in providing a focus for this dean's masturbation.
"Do you like me, Dr. Amber Tyson?" she asked, purposely slurring the letters in my name.
"Uhm, of course. I like all my students."
Blowing a bubble and letting it pop, she moved forward, placing her elbows on my desk and blessing me with a nice view of her half-exposed cleavage belonging to tits supported by nothing but a tank top.
"No, Dr. Tyson. Do you like-like me?"
She blew another bubble and let it pop.
I smelled the apple scent of her breath and felt sweat form on my brow.
"What ... what do you mean?" I struggled to get the simple question out, licking my dry lips when I finished.
She sat on the edge of my desk; her short skirt riding up her thigh, exposing the bottom of cotton panties. With perfectly manicured nails, she tickled her brown skin by running tempting small circles up her thigh.
"Do you like? Because I like you," she whispered.
I managed, "Hon you ... you need to stop this. Y-you're my student. We've been through this before."
Dead silence filled the room for the next thirty seconds. I tried to breathe, but every breath I took smelled of her apple scented gum.
"Answer the question," she insisted.
"Pussy got your tongue?" she asked, bringing her fingers to my lips and tickling.
I tried to nod my head.
"I'm not gonna lie to you Dr. Tyson. You know I think you're hot," she purred and continued to tease my lips with her nails. "I'm available..."
She leaned forward on my desk, moving to about a foot in front of my face and questioning, "Are you?"
I exhaled while moving my head in some type of circle meaning yes and then no.
Understanding, she went back to her chair feigning false pain. "Simply too bad, counselor; parents are out of town for the next month. I'm a lonely little girl," she said with a pout, stretching each of the last few words into multiple syllables.
"Sochie." I swallowed nothing from a parched mouth. "Go," my mouth somehow said.
With a smirk on her lips, she said, "Are you sure?"
Difficultly gaining control, I squeaked out a, "Yes."
"Well," she said while spreading her legs in the chair, "if you change your mind, you have my address in your computer. I'll be home around eight; not like I haven't offered before."
She quickly rose and started for the door. As she walked away, her ass hypnotized me—round, plump, and lovely.
I tried to relax.
Reaching for the door, she tossed her hair over her shoulder in a loud message to get my attention. Lifting her skirt and slapping her panty-clad bottom, she turned her head and winked at me.
"Maybe?" she questioned and then turned her head away from me while rubbing her cheek for a few seconds. She knew how to arouse me like no other—knew of the need in my body. Intent on teasing, she moved her hand to the top of her panties, pulling and then stopping. She pulled down again, exposing her fleshy ass for a brief second.
Opening the door, she left.
My mind continued dwelling on the possible ... and the probable.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat in my office recovering and feeling like a loser for lacking the courage to enjoy Sochie. Looking out the window at freshly mowed fields of grass, I thought about my semi-celebrity husband. Jeff defined masculinity, the jock sort of male who loved nothing more than flexing a bicep in front of the mirror. Coaching a nationally ranked tennis team at a prestigious college in the museum district of Bayou City gave him a feeling of self-importance. My own position at a second-rate community college for rejects didn't offer such prestige, but I enjoyed working with challenging students.
Unknown to the male celebrity, he had married a woman who loved women. At the very least, I felt bisexual; but deep inside, a queer spirit slept. I didn't have the courage to face the world as lesbian and hid in a closet. Sex with Sochie meant exposure. Sex without her meant fucking my husband. Neither seemed an option. A closet owned the coward dean.
I couldn't stand sex with Jeff. His affairs didn't bother me; in fact, I preferred him fucking other women because it saved me the trouble of fucking him. We stayed coupled out of my need for stability and a look of normalcy to the public, all of which contributed to my constant bouts of depression.
Furthering the issue of sex with a student, I loved working with lost youth. Excelling with little acknowledgment or appreciation except for the occasional parent, the position fit my temperament. I loved to please and do pleasant things. Rarely, a student found success due to my efforts. Sochie presented a challenge; she cared less about success than getting her nails manicured, at least the type of success defined by most of the world. She flirted with me each time we met, and I tried to focus on her education.
I often wondered what attracted such an outgoing girl to a shy older woman. Sochie, a reputed lesbian slut, might be off to her next conquest and leave me in her wake. The more I thought about it, the more I knew thinking didn't help. Acting might, but acting with a student would get me fired. I knew I wanted to sleep with her. But my mind, my self-imposed prison, prevented me from sleeping with her.
Still, I checked to make sure my ever-present copy of her data sheet rested in my handbag. Good, the crinkled paper rested in between the picture of my mother and Wal-Mart credit card, safely hidden in case I ever found the courage to follow through on her tempting proposals.
As I left for the evening, my secretary, Tammy, looked up from her computer and asked, "Going home?"
"Wanna get a drink? You look sad."
I thought for a few seconds while staring at her. Tammy displayed a neurotic sexuality, but she didn't act like a lesbian. However, the young woman always filled me with the melodious tenor of her person. The girl loved the thrill of the bargain and dressed impeccably on a meager salary. My cute bargain rack dress and loafers paled in comparison. With understated elegance, her cute dimples kissed lightly freckled cheeks as she smiled. Tammy possessed a fine figure with small, but lovable breasts and a tight bum. Her sweetly tempting alabaster legs twitched restlessly as she waited for an answer. The decision to go with her required little thought.
"Sounds good. Meet you at Maeve's?" I asked.
"Let me close up."
The way she looked at me made me wonder if she might be interested, but most likely, her bubbly effervescence meant she wanted to comfort me as a friend.
"First round's on me," I said with a wink.
"Deal," she responded, a touch of a smile curling both ends of her cute lips.
The smile didn't help my antsy demeanor.
Maeve's, a cool little dive in the seedier part of town, represented my weekly moment of recluse from the normal world. The bar served as my hangout because acting queer didn't commit me to sex. Sure, a few of my students saw me there at times; nonetheless, most didn't make anything of it besides a surprised glance. Most were underage.
Ms. Pinky Rabbit waited quietly when I arrived home after a few drinks. The toy never complained about breakfast, never came prematurely or burped and farted like my husband. Pinky happily buzzed without a care as long as I fed her Petroleum Jelly with a few Duracell's thrown in for dessert—she preferred copper top.
Often, local gay talent entertained on the stage. Maeve knew how to draw a crowd of horny queers and occasionally hired a high profile stripper to put on a lap dance performance with a volunteer. Sometimes, a couple or two might get carried away and girly bang on the dance floor or in the recesses of the club. Maeve let them proceed, in fact, she participated a time or two. Unbeknown to all but a few of us, Maeve contributed to the local vice squad, keeping a dogged group at bay. The girl knew how to draw a crowd.
In my early thirties, Starbuck's sugary lattes robbed some of my figure, but I still managed to maintain the term 'looker' to most. As I toyed with my tow-colored hair and bit a lower lip, I cut through the small parquet dance floor to a secluded corner to enjoy the strange ambiance.
Maeve soon came by, "You look glum, the usual?" she asked.
"Yeah, and bring a Vodka Tonic for Tammy."
"Her again? You two are becoming an item."
I breathed deeply; the scent of cigarettes, stale liquor and expensive perfume filled my nostrils. Finding the smell strangely satisfying, I quietly wondered how Maeve always knew my secrets—
"Maeve, don't go there," I responded. "You know I'm married."
"Your body and eyes don't lie, babycakes," she shot back. "But your secret's safe, for now, at least."
—and always knew how to politely push my insecurities.
I paused and thought about why I never took advantage of opportunities.
"Never mind, just bring me the drinks," I said loudly above the music, tapping my fingers on the table.
"Yeah, thought so," she smirked while making the call-me sign with her index finger and thumb. Denying myself yet another obvious offer for sex, I looked away.
"You'll come around. They always do," she added while leaving to calm a drunken patron. I drank the confusion of her 'always do'. It tasted bitter.
"Hot girl this evening!" she shouted over the music while laughing.
I sat dejected—everything to gain and nothing to lose, maybe?
Owning a bartender's practical understanding and the looks of a Madonna, Maeve pegged me as a queer wannabe after the first time I walked into the place. Covered in tattoos and piercings, the thirtyish woman imbued a complex beauty and peculiar genius. She often spoke to me on slow nights about her gritty experiences as a teen. I knew she overcame her difficulty by the sheer will of her good heart. Maeve often babied me with kind words of affection, attempting to ease my homosexual angst and get me to come out.
"Let my wife and I show you the sexual ropes. Come spend the weekend at our home," she often suggested.
The problem? I made Gordian's knot look like an untied shoelace.
The club boasted a varied clientele from the wealthy socialite to the Goth youth. Radiating a certain disquieted excitement, the subtle mood found its way under my skin to my nipples and down to my panties.
Waiting for my drink, I swayed to the soulful jazz on the sound system as thumping bass and alto flute vibrated my chair. My gaze drifted to the small parquet dance floor. Gray smoky haze obscured the air surrounding the crowded floor. A strange mixture of women danced, some curious straight girls, a few transsexuals, but most lesbian. Maeve's attracted the queer ... and the lonely.
A young couple who looked in their twenties danced, kissed, and then hugged. The couple delighted in the warmth of their passionate embrace. The hug cooked desire in my mind for similar pleasure. As I considered my current situation and the two women, desire for a woman's touch warmed my face and nipples. My legs unconsciously clenched as my hand consciously went to my middle. I touched myself in my privates for a few seconds.
One of the girls looked familiar. I focused through the parade of queer on her dark face. She looked Latina, possessing a lovely bum covered in a short blue-jean skirt. Gasping, I recognized Sochie with her latest groupie and removed my hand from between my legs. Living up to the name most of the regulars called me, 'new chicken meat', I tried to hide my face.
Maeve surprised me by arriving quickly with three drinks. A shot of Cuervo Gold followed by a Tecate and lime calmed my shaky nerves. The Tequila went to my head, producing a euphoria of relaxation in my confused mind. Everything seemed funny, and I touched myself again, until my phone rang.
Distracted, I fumbled in my purse for the expensive gadget with buttons and gizmos worthy of a science fiction epic. It slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. Before it said, "Beam me up Scottie," I recovered the phone and saw Tammy's number. Answering, I heard a troubled voice.
"Something came up; need to stay at home," she said in a whisper.
I waited, because I knew her next words.
"Mark again," she mumbled.
"That pig? I thought you got rid of him?" I asked and felt flushed—perhaps jealous of her attraction to a very mean male.
"He said he was sorry."
"Tammy, he beat the shit out of you."
"He didn't mean it."
"You're an idiot," I said, holding back several choice words. Being vocal differed from my nature, but the Cuervo gave me courage.
"He didn't mean it, Amber," she pleaded. She wanted me to understand.
"Call me if you have trouble; if that MF hits you—oh, just be careful, goddamn you. I don't wanna see you hurt again." Angry, I hung up the phone. I couldn't understand how sweet Tammy could go with a guy who hurt her. Abusive men and women were cowards; thinking of Tammy with Mark made me cringe. I loved powerful women, controlling women, but I loathed females and males who abused.
Stunned by the familiar voice, I turned around and saw Sochie standing with her head cocked to the side and eyes bright with desire. She looked delicious.
"How did you get in here?" I glanced away from her and fiddled with my fingernails.
"I'm twenty-one. I'm legal. Dance?"
"No, go back to your friend."
"She's nothing. Can I sit?"
I shrugged. She sat down within inches of me.
"I haven't seen you here before," she said and touched my arm.
Her touch caused me to pull back; she moved in closer. I managed, "Only ... only come on Fridays for a couple of drinks. Then home to Jeff."
"So Jeff's the lucky guy's name? You never mention him."
"I don't know if I'd call him lucky, but Jeff's my husband's name."
"He's lucky," she said with a sympathetic tilt of the head.
I couldn't help but smile at the young woman's insight. Becoming thirsty, I downed half of Tammy's Vodka Tonic, which served to unloosen some knots.
"Look, maybe I'm too much," She looked like she wanted to say more. She did. "I have a tough time with control around you. Friends?" If she only knew how much I wanted to give into her control.
I nodded and said, "Dean, student," while pointing first to me and then to her.
"Friends," she insisted.
Relenting, I sighed, "Friends."
Uncomfortable silence found the two of us, and I couldn't help but discretely ogle Sochie. She did her own ogling too; blatant and suggestive, her staring reddened me.
"Million bucks for your thoughts," she whispered so closely to my cheek I tasted strong wine and felt warm words fan across my face.
Taking a deep breath, I asked, "When did you figure you were ... ya know?" I kicked myself for asking such a daft question. What the hell was I getting into? I knew better.
"A lesbian?" she asked with no embarrassment.
"Well, yeah," I said.
"Yeah, third grade teacher. She had beautiful ankles."
"Beautiful ankles! She was kind of a Jewish hippie. Wore these sandals, had the cutest ankles."
"I never thought of ankles as beautiful."
"Shoulda seen hers."
I laughed and then said, "I'll take your word for it."
As lights flickered on and off a few times. The dance floor cleared and people gathered in small clusters, lit cigarettes, and chatted. A few couples paired off and sought refuge in darkened niches. With building excitement, I watched a local DJ for a rock station named Classy Christie, CeeCee for short, walk up to the stage with a mike.
A bouncy strip song played as a few drunken girls whistled. One lesbian couple, oblivious to the hazy smoke, erotic music and wistful stares, practically fucked in one corner. Those two had theirs. Would I let Sochie get hers? I wanted to give in.
"We have a babe from Dallas visiting tonight by the name of Misty Morning," CeeCee said in her raspy voice. "She's a star of lesbian porn and erotic dancer of fame. Videos on sale in the foyer," she paused. "Misty would love to sign any tits she can, course she may want a little something-something in return." The crowd laughed.
"Give a round of applause for our ssssinnnntilating guest this evening, Misty Morning."
With loud approval, all heads turned toward the corner of the stage as Misty made her entrance. She defined sex on two legs, causing the word fuck-buddyto enter my mind. Standing over six feet tall with a fiery dirty red mane, beautiful white skin, and red stilettos, her presence forced all the patrons in the club to shout and applaud. Even the near-fucking lesbian couple took a break to see the ruckus.
Clearly pierced nipples showed under her thin red negligee. She embodied temptation, desire, and Sapphic sex. An amazing clit protruded from her pussy. The size of her precious bulb shifted a club full of lesbian libidos to a new gear.
Misty started the show by displaying some of her famous moves. She twirled into a handstand and spread her legs in the air. Amid raucous catcalls, Misty tumbled into a full frontal split, giving horny girls a front-and-center view of the front-and-center clit.
Sochie and I sat quietly as her shoulder lightly grazed mine. Unconsciously, I moved in closer to the touch of her electric skin, drawn to her warmth like an infant seeking her mother's milk.
CeeCee came back to the stage and asked, "Okay girls, and guys wanting to be girls, any volunteers for today's lap dance—no tip needed?"
The crowd enjoyed CeeCee's silliness, and many volunteers raised their hands. A group of loud college girls teased a young women in schoolgirl regalia and combat boots to volunteer. A shaved head, black collar, thick black eyeliner, and thicker black lipstick gave her an exotic Goth look. She shook her head in flat refusal, causing her not-so-friendly buddies to goad her. Miss Goth didn't raise her hand until an older girl sitting across the table nodded and pointed. Hesitantly, her hand found its shapely way into the thick air.
CeeCee immediately picked her as soon as the girl's hand went up.
The girl didn't expect it, and it took some jeering from the crowd to get her onstage. Obviously tipsy, she stumbled one time as she stepped up to the stage. Misty bent quickly and provided a hand to keep her from falling. The two connected with a glance. Seems small glances created opportunities for porn stars to deflower Goth girls on this ribald evening.
Of medium build and strangely attractive, her bra-less tits appeared to want freedom from her top. Her curves held just enough baby fat to make her cuddly and cute. I wondered, "Could a Goth chick be cuddly and cute?"
A pulsing slow song played over the speakers. Sex maven Misty led her victim—or more perhaps, her willing accomplice—to a small chair as multicolored lights focused on the stage. CeeCee moved to the side to enjoy the show with the rest of us.
Misty gyrated her hips slowly as she faced the audience, bending at the knees in the classic 'come fuck me' pose. Her mesmerizing moves produced sweat on my forehead that dripped into my eyes and burned. The wonders of sight, sound, and smell combined into a conflicting witchery of the erotic. I trembled, holding my legs with my hands to hide my arousal from Sochie.
She knew. Sochie always knew.
The Goth girl stared at Misty's ass; soon she relaxed in the chair and spread her legs, waiting for some personal attention. Misty didn't disappoint her.
Sochie's hand rested on the table within inches of mine. Her pinky stretched out toward my pinky. Without thinking, I moved my hand closer to hers and then moved it farther away. No! My body fought my mind like a commercial advertisement, just do it.
I downed the rest of Tammy's Vodka Tonic.
On the stage, Misty turned around, spreading the young woman's knees. She shook her red hair over the girl's face and breasts. Almost unconsciously, the girl's hand drifted toward her own crotch.
My pinky made a decision, the decision part of my brain didn't want, but another part of me did. As much as I wanted to run from the table and go hide in the restroom, I couldn't.
Loving Sochie unlocked the closet door.
Feeling nervous yet brave, my hand moved eagerly to enjoy Sochie in whatever tricky way it could. I placed my hand on her thigh. She placed her hand on mine.
I peered back to the stage. Misty straddled one of the young woman's legs and pushed her breasts within inches of the girl's lips. The girl tried to reach and kiss Misty's tits, but the stripper pushed her away, smiling seductively and shaking her ass at the audience.
Betwixt and between these amazing proceedings, the aforementioned lesbian couple thoughtfully repositioned on a table to provide all of the audience a better view. The taller of the two girls packed a nice black dildo and thrust it in the shorter girl's mouth. Helping their pace along pleasantly, the girl getting the mouth fuck fondled the taller girl's panty-covered ass. The two went at each other like crazed teens, and once again, seemed oblivious to all the screaming lesbians in the club.
On stage, Misty sat down on the girl's lap and pushed her torso downward. To the delight of the crowd, the young woman's hand went between her legs. She started masturbating underneath her white panties. The eroticism struck me wildly; automatically, Sochie's hand drifted closer to my Eden. My hand drifted closer to hers.
Misty stood, providing the audience with a view of the young woman as she toyed with her pussy underneath her panties. I focused on the panties, licking my lips as a moist spot grew more noticeable. The exotic dancer bent low and slid her lips and tongue over the girl's cheek from one side of her face to the other. The young woman moaned while increasing her pace against her pussy. Stretching her muscular legs taut, she breathed with flushed anticipation of orgasm's friendship.
Sochie inched her hand ever closer to my middle. Spreading my legs, I waited for the thrill of her touch. Anticipation produced need, and need grew to compulsive bawdy lust. Swallowing some courage from my dry mouth, I placed my hand directly on top of her pussy. She looked at me and smiled.
Sochie had me, and she knew it.
Meanwhile, back at the sideshow, the lesbian couple starred in their own production. Completely nude except for her bra and green Converse tennis shoes, Mouth Fuck bent over at the waist resting with her upper torso across the table. Dildo Packer took advantage of poor Mouth Fuck's predicament by pounding her hips toward the girl's backside. However, what caused my bum to tingle involved the position of the dildo. Dildo Packer packed Mouth Fuck's bottom. I thought Mouth Fuck required a new moniker. My horny mind immediately considered Ass Fuck appropriate.
Despite the pain involved, my ass craved a fuck by Sochie wearing a thick cock.
Although I couldn't hear them clearly through the noise, Ass Fuck screamed something like, "Fuck my ass bitch. Fuck it good. Fuck me bitch. Fuck me!" Dildo Packer responded by fucking her with a stronger force and slapping on her crimson cheeks. As beads of sweat dripped from foreheads and tits, the two women glistened like supernatural sex goddesses. Spittle spewed from Ass Fuck's mouth as tiny beads of water danced into the air surrounding both of their bodies. The sight of the two dripping women enjoying each other with such freedom drove me to voyeuristic insanity, and my desire blossomed into a wicked need for the insane.
Misty moved to the young woman's side. The stripper pushed the top straps of her little red negligee over her shoulders and let it slip down to expose her breasts. The dancer knelt next to the Goth girl, ran her fingers slowly over the young woman's belly and placed her hand on top of where the girl masturbated. Soon, the girl writhed in a complex dish of delight and fancy. Misty bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek while helping stroke the fancy.
I pressed my fingers on Sochie's womanhood and proceeded to massage her. She put her fingers under my panties and fondled with passion. Waiting for a touch from a woman for so long, my body released madness. Slick dew readied my bald pussy for penetration. The prickly hairs on my neck and the nipples on my breast saluted to the General by the name of sex. Sochie's heart raced loud enough for me to feel it, winning a noisy battle of orgasmic frenzy and kicking the General's ass.
Sochie's labored breathing married my stunted attempt to draw in air. The Latina of my dreams closed in on Venus Rising as I continued to fuck her with my hand. Being so close to her, touching her pussy, seeing the sex occurring on stage, and hearing the two girls getting it on in a corner of the club meant sexual bliss waited for me within minutes.
Importantly, this attraction, this arousal, this love for Sochie met with my acceptance, acceptance of the queer, acceptance of the different, and acceptance into the sisterhood of loving women. Perhaps the world held a place for me—perhaps Sochie's arms held the world.
Sochie noticed my change, my happiness, my smile, and entered her finger in my peach forcing a deep sigh to part my lips. Her needy face looked hungry, flushing with arousal. She turned and looked at me with loving eyes, whispering the simple words, "Feels great ... and finally ... wanted you for a long time."
Slowly, she stroked with tenderness, quickly, the tenderness creshendoed into the aggressive. Slowly, I matched her stroking with my pleasing of her pussy. Quickly, the pleasing boomed into the dynamic. Her touches increased my arousal to near climatic levels, causing waves to ripple through my sweet middle. I relaxed, allowing the feeling to overwhelm and engulf every atom in my being.
Hearing a scream, I looked over at our friendly lesbian couple. Taking notice of the stares coming their way, the two managed to reposition to a not-so-darkened niche. Now Dildo Packer appeared hungry, because her face rested in between Ass Fuck's legs. Much to my disappointment, I couldn't get a good view of the action; however, the way Ass Fuck screamed told the patrons of the club what busied the other girl's tongue. "Eat me bitch. Eat me good. Eat me. Eat my cunt!" she moaned with intensity.
My mind drifted from the silly thought of Ass Fuck's needed new name, leaping to the fantastic and wonderful. I knew I'd fuck Sochie. I knew I'd fuck her tonight! Fuck her in front of everybody. Fuck her on the dance floor. Fuck her in a darkened niche. Fuck her on the stage. I didn't care. Fuck everything! I must fuck!
The dancer stood amid some loud cheering. I turned back to her as a wave of pleasure went through my body and dizzied a cloudy brain. Misty let her negligee fall to the ground, straddling over the young woman and shaking her shapely bum in our direction. Looking at her ass, I dreamed of being her victim with Sochie between my legs.
The Goth girl's hand stroked relentlessly under her panties. Misty brought her nipples to the young woman and let her kiss them as the patrons of the club whistled and catcalled. Watching Goth girl go at Misty's teats produced a strange sucking noise from my mouth as I envisioned sucking Sochie's brown nipples.
The couple in the corner weren't helping matters any. The Artist Formerly Known as Mouth Fuck wrapped her legs tightly around Dildo Packer's head. The two wrestled on the floor in a battle with two winners. Miss Packer went at Miss Fuck with such energy I felt her tongue in my pussy. My mind felt titty in my mouth and woman supping my pussy in a dream of imaginative sex. The strange music from the vocal cords of Mouth Fuck only sharpened my fantasy. The type of music only meant one thing, and the fantasy led to eventual reality.
Sochie's finger's stroked my yoni with energy, causing goose pimples to form on my breasts and juice to slicken my chair. My awaiting orgasm controlled me as I stroked on her pussy. From the grin of approval on Sochie's face, she felt as much pleasure as me.
I lost all control.
Misty moved behind the young woman with a sultry prance, providing an exquisite view of the girl's panty covered hand as she twitched and played with her bulb. The girl masturbated furiously, and Misty bent and offered her nipples to the girl's mouth. Misty teased, pulling away as the young woman closed in, and then relented by rubbing her breasts against the girl's face. Miss Goth went at Misty's titties with enthusiasm. Sochie went at my pussy much the same.
Sochie moved her lips to my cheek, kissing lightly as her warm breath teased my ear. Screaming to my right in the darkened niche, moaning in front of me on the stage. Sochie's stroking of my cleft—nothing compared, nothing.
All of it!
All the action taking place in the club; the lap dance on the stage; the two girl's having sex in the corner; the Goth girl masturbating; the smoke, the perfume, the cheering, Misty's clit, my pinky, my brain, my pussy; but most of all, this incredible feeling poets try to explain called love, this young woman I loved at my side, all of it—the totality of the moment—erupted in a ruinously peaceful fire in my soul!
As the song closed and the young woman began to orgasm, Misty knelt on her knees at the girl's side. She licked the girl's face and lips, and then explored the young woman's mouth with her tongue. With quivering legs, the girl climaxed in a feverish rush. As she climaxed, Misty ran her nails lightly over the young woman's breasts while biting her ear.
With a joyful grin, Sochie stroked my pussy while I tried to focus on the stage. My entire body tingled as my orgasm took center stage. I forgot about Sochie's needs and closed my eyes, tilting my head back as orgasm consumed me. Sochie moved in close to my cheek and whispered, "Beg for it baby. C'mon beg, beg me to fuck your cunt."
I shuddered and climaxed as small convulsions peaked into large eruptions, causing my mind to envelop rapture. My breasts tingled with electricity greater than Edison ever found. "Fuck me Sochie," I begged. "Fuck me hard! Please do it, please I need it. Fuck me please. Fuck me please. Fuck me please! Fuckme fuckme fuckme fuckme please!" Every neuron in my brain produced brilliant splendor as Tesla joined Edison in a mind visiting ecstasy, electric ecstasy, orgasmic ecstasy, shocking ecstasy! One orgasm, another, another, another...
"Tell me again baby, I don't believe you. Tell me again or I'm gonna stop. You didn't tell me to fuck your cunt." Sochie moaned in my ear, pushing her cheek against my face as her steamy breath warmed my fevered cheeks. She stroked, stroked, and stroked with blind, blind, blinding speed. Hairs stood on my body in orgasmic craze as I breathed tepid air into burning lungs. My orgasm quaked and trembled, quaked, quaked, quaked, trembled, trembled, trembled, in a mighty spew, spew, spew...
"Fuck my cunt!" my mouth screamed but no words came out as I forgot how to speak. The eruption lashed flames through my body, reddening a red face, peaking peaked nipples, wheezing wheezed breath. Stars flashed before my eyes as I almost lost consciousness finishing with a final silent, "Fuck!"
I moved my hand from Sochie's pussy to the table as exhaustion took a momentary mortgage on my body. She took my hand in hers and trembled, kissing my neck, cheek and ear. I felt her bring my hand to her lips and give a sensuous kiss, as an orgasm found her body from kissing my hand alone.
"Ah!" she screamed in a short staggered breath. "Ahhh!" she screamed in a long staggered explosion as orgasm became her paramour. Her trembling matched mine, and it made me so happy to see her aroused in such a state of bliss that my own Pompeii visited me in a small eruption of its own with one stunning pulse.
The greatest thrill leapt through me in the precious zeal of the moment as I realized her orgasms were more important than mine. It made me feel like a woman knowing her affection for me stimulated such a strong response from her body. She licked some sweat off my cheek and then said, "That's only the beginning. I need more."
I managed a small nod while hearing more sounds of sex, I forced my eyes to open as the young woman on the stage finished her climax by nearly falling off the chair and screaming "Gawd Misty, Love Me!"
A few seconds later Miss Goth smiled in complete satisfaction, not caring about masturbating in front of a crowd of one hundred people. The satisfaction of her climax joined my smile in a similar grin. I didn't fucking care who knew. My glorious orgasm filled me with éclat and beauty only outdone by the orgasm of my new lover, yes, lover! The beauty of my Goddess known as Sochie thrilled me from the tip of my dizzy head to the bottom of my trembling toes, stopping along the way to take a nice nip at my middle.
The two friendly lesbians even looked up to take in the proceedings, and they received their fair share of applause too. Then the strangest feeling came over me, because I realized Sochie and I were receiving a share of applause too. The applause of the crowd turned me on!
Misty held the Goth girl by both hands and pulled, and then she kissed her glistening fingers. The two stood, walking off the stage toward Misty's dressing room. Miss Goth stopped and whispered something into Misty's ear. Misty looked in the crowd for the young woman who approved for Miss Goth to go to the stage a few minutes earlier. The stripper found her and then pointed to her dressing room. With shining black hair so dark it filled the room with a blue tint, the woman stood. Regal in manner, wearing a simple blue suit of elegance, she exemplified power and beauty as she stood. The strong woman whispered something to the other two girls with a confident deportment. The two young women held each other's hands and nodded in agreement. She left and joined Misty and Miss Goth in the dressing room. Hell decided he needed to break loose as the crowd screamed in a furor.
I looked at Sochie confused. She said, "Dominatrix." I understood, several such couples frequented the club of a similar manner, but from the way Sochie said it, I felt she must know intimately of the role.
After the two performers left, Sochie and I looked at each other. I tried to recover in my damp seat, blushing with embarrassment and loosening my grip on her hand. Strangely, my mind thought of an old movie called Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Chuckling to myself, in my case, the movie needed a new name, Pussy in a Hot Lesbian Basement.
"What's so funny?" Sochie asked.
I smiled, as a small dose of alacrity found my mind. I tried in vain to force my mind into a non-committal mode of serious intent. My needy brain didn't have the strength to resist Sochie. She'd won before coming to the table. The woman made me feel owned.
"Well, was it at least a good one?" she asked.
I nodded timidly, still trying to catch my breath. But the word 'good' in Webster's poorly described what happened between my legs. Madness described the sensation with greater accuracy, damn fucking great described it best.
"You're so flushed and look so delicious, Dr. Tyson," she whispered as she touched my cheek with her nails.
Dizzy and witless, I tried to nod.
We sat quietly holding hands through two booming dance songs by Lady Gaga. The ever-persistent Sochie asked, "Dance?"
Pausing, I gave resistance her last shot, a poor shot at best, and one I had no intention of making. My words were an intent I didn't want to keep. "I must go Sochie. This is wrong. Our relationship mustn't be." For the first time, I saw her anger—
"Christ, Dr. My Woman, enough! We just almost screwed each other at a club full of horny women, so I think any charade nothing is going on between us is crazy. I'm going to take you woman. Rest assured, I'll never see you hurt by my actions. Dance?" she demanded.
—and strangely, I knew Sochie would never allow any harm to come to me.
She pulled on my hand. Her forceful touch and insistence pleased me. She pulled again, and, I went with her. Smiling, she said, "That's better, and bullshit if you think your leaving. You and I know better." She brought the hand I used on her pussy to her nose. "You smell ripe."
I looked away, shyly grinning. "You are persistent."
Sochie laughed quietly, "Mmm, maybe you haven't noticed." She paused to make sure I paid attention. "I have quite the hots for you. I get what I want, always. The two girls were beautiful; can't blame you for becoming excited. Maybe I can scratch your itch in a bit—no—I will scratch your itch, no strings, unless you want some. Then my dear Dean, we will tie some knots, very ... tight ... knots."
Damn, fucking knots again.
We stood for a few seconds, holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes. I hugged her tightly while cussing myself for giving in.
"Call me Amber," I whispered in her ear.
"Okay Amber," she said slurring my name. "About goddamn time we got over all the crap don't you think?" she whispered. Her hot breath tickled the small hairs in my ear as the song switched to a slow dance.
"No, not this one," I protested.
"Cut it out Amber. Stop. Cut the shit. This is mutual, and you know it."
Stopping and looking at her, I realized she could do with me as she wished. I marveled at my stupidity, my weakness ... she represented my potential for happiness, what my life must be. Why I continued to pretend reluctance made no sense. Ant wrestled foot—foot won. The foot ended in my mouth—mouth won. The mouth sucked my pussy—pussy won. Pussy won last fall, the first time she walked in my office.
"C'mon Amber. Time to dance!"
I looked back at her and said, "I've never ... it's just, everything."
"You've never what? Loved a lesbian? Admitted you're a queer? I'll make love with you anytime you want. Come with me Amber, anytime, anyplace. I'll take you to places you've never been, giving you the love and sex you crave."
"Dance with me," she said while rubbing my arm.
I shook my head.
She nodded. "Okay, but Amber, no pretense. I want to fuck your cunt so hard with my strap-on cock you can't walk for a week. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk for a month. Amber, I'm gonna take you—fuck!—let's dance ... it's inevitable."
Still indicating no, I went with her. She owned me.
"Inevitable!" I thought, quietly shouting to myself, internally jumping up and down, silently feeling such a joy in my heart, and then for some reason, I told her, "Thank you."
Smiling, she looked at me. Afraid to look in her eyes, I looked away. We walked to the dance floor. She held me closely without any charade of taking it easy with me. Although I tried, I didn't fight her attentiveness. Useless, she'd already won. Lock, stock, and pussy—please tie me up, pinch my nipples, slap my ass, do as you wish!
Her breasts pressed closely to mine, and my body felt her tenderness. She took her hands and placed them on my hips while moving her pelvis closely into mine.
"Are you ready for me to take you?" she asked.
"No," I said, but my body told a different story.
"You'll be fine, relax my sweet Amber. I'll fuck you soon when I'm good and ready," she cooed.
"Yes," I replied.
With no resistance, I put my arms around her shoulders, resting my chin and lips closely to her warm neck. The intimacy made me feel needed, stimulating confusion and arousal—an arousal festooning into an emotional mix of pain and pleasure, with pleasure clearly winning the battle.
After a few seconds, she confessed, "I'm really not as bad as what everybody thinks, Sweetmeat."
Giggling at the nickname and intrigued, I asked, "Then why do you act poorly?"
"Long story," she said and lightly kissed my cheek.
I pulled back slightly after she kissed me. The kiss was nondescript, but it thrilled me, sending comfort through my body.
"Too much?" she asked.
I thought for a few seconds, finally saying, "No, just surprised, yet not surprised."
"Tell me the story of why you act so poorly?" I asked, wondering about the secrets hidden within this strong woman in my arms.
"After the dance, my place?"
"Christ, Sochie n-no, just take it easy with me tonight," I stammered, knowing we'd be lovers the same night.
"Then we'll get a coffee?" she smirked, knowing I couldn't resist her.
I breathed deeply, "As friends?"
"Hell no, as lovers," she responded confidently.
Damn her! She had me, and she knew it. I would act on my want, on my need of her love. She made me feel completely hopeless, and, at the same time, hopeful.
"Yes, coffee sounds nice," I said and paused. "And yes ... yes, as lovers. Just go slow."
"Fuck slow," she responded.
Like a methodical temptress, she knew we'd end up at her house. Sochie always knew.
Her hands worked from my hips to my ass, pressing firmly once again, forcing our middles together. Her firm clasp brought a moan from my mouth and caused my nipples to crest. I pulled back, looked at her, wanted her, needed her, and then timidly kissed her on the nose. She returned my childish affection by kissing my cheeks, chin and eyelids, while moving her hands to my face and holding me tightly.
Sochie looked earnestly in my eyes, "I've wanted this moment forever," she confessed. "I know you want me. I waited in your office all the time just knowing you needed me. Shit, Amber, Amber, I got in trouble just to get you. I knew you loved me by the way you looked at me. Am I wrong Amber, can I own your body, mind, soul, and ... you?"
I held back a tear, and then touched my cheek to hers, feeling warm skin please my face as she rubbed with light friction. We both pulled back, caressing each other's faces. We needed loving as two young woman set to a predetermined course. My course set in rich compliance, splendor, and confusion. Her course steady with richer domination, knowledge, and confidence.
"I want you," I admitted. "I need you," I cried.
"Yes, you do," she insisted as her nails ran tenderly from my cheek to chin.
"This is you. This has always been you."
"It is, isn't it?" I said and buried my head in her shoulder.
"It is, and it's wonderful Amber—time for the freedom my kind can bring you." After her words, she slapped my ass hard and finished with, "You're mine."
Her words caused me to ask a silent question born from shy curiosity, "What does 'my kind' mean?"
Our lips met in a radiant kiss, soon her tongue pushed into my mouth with hunger. My tears flowed, and I accepted her tongue as it plunged, teasing the recesses of my mouth. Her hands raked down my arms with a feathery touch sending waves of yearning through my body. Tiny pinpricks covered me, and I shivered with a pleasure so rare. I could love, and love, I did.
I anticipated her touch on my breasts, but she held back, tickling my arms, shoulders and face. We giggled like children, overjoyed in finding this passionate moment.
Feeling faint, I held onto her tightly, embracing her in my arms so I wouldn't falter. She kissed me with short measured brevity, and then kissed me with flaming intensity.
We battled tongues, encircling feverishly in a war of dwindling oxygen. I sucked her tongue, tasting warm wine and apple bubblegum. Rushing my tongue over her ivory teeth, I tickled her upper and lower gums. She bit my lower lip causing stimulating pain. Sucking my lip in and out of her mouth, she nibbled and teased. She moaned in want, biting and sucking, rubbing her hands on my bum, pushing her body to mesh with mine. Sochie lit a conflagration in my heart, a conflagration joining hers in passion's loving heat.
"I knew," she whispered in my ear as her perfumed scent filled my nostrils. Biting lightly on my neck, she kissed and sucked a path from under my ear to the front of my body. She ravaged my breasts, licking through the material of my dress as I held her head firmly, pressing her face into my bosom.
She licked, chewed, and bit. Then she decided to get busy.
Neither of us realized we were still on the dance floor as time and place lost meaning. She sucked my nipples through my clothing, and soon we throbbed against each others body without a single care as to who saw. Her hand lifted my dress and touched the flesh of my soft buttock. We repeatedly pressed into each other in the throes of an obsession only sated through sex.
Feeling another orgasm building in my privates, I said, "Not here, Sochie."
She pulled away. "Fuck coffee. Let's go to my house."
"No," I said, smiling.
"Give it up Sweetmeat!" she smiled back at me.
"You're mine now. No way you're getting away." Sochie held my hand, and we started walking to the exit.
I walked with her, but stopped briefly and said, "I need to pay."
"Then pay—hurry, fuck, I'm so horny." She looked at me breathing heavily, and then I noticed a change in her.
She took several calming breaths, and whispered, "Hurry my Virgin Aphrodite, you have innocence to lose." She brought her hand to my cheek and touched me with such love I melted.
I hungered for her touch; her soft and gentle caresses; her tongue licking my breasts, teeth biting my nipples, and mouth devouring my pussy. Still tasting her in my mouth and feeling her nails on my arms, I'd finally succumbed to this young woman I loved.
I paid my bill and damn, Maeve winked at me. "Shit," I told her while smiling.
She gave me the thumbs up and said, "'Bout time." She warned me, a warning I didn't understand, "Be careful with her. She's different."
I gave her a questioning look. Maeve shrugged and pointed for me to leave.
Sochie waited by the door. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, curling her hair with her finger. She extended her hand pointing her index finger at me. Confidently, then she pointed her finger at her pussy, knowing I needed to fuck her—fuck her over, sadly.