Dear Diary 1977 : Homecoming - Vol 2
Copyright© 2026 by Emily Wendling
Chapter 12
Fiction Story: Chapter 12 - My eyes watered, tears mixing with the drool, streaming down my face as I was face fucked into oblivion, the sound of my gagging and screaming the only music in the dark room. The assault was so intense, so overwhelming, that my body began to rebel. It was not just saliva. It was a physical expulsion of fluids triggered by the sheer thickness of the intrusion. I gagged, a convulsive heave that had no escape route, and it came out in a thick, clear stream of mucus.
Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Paranormal Incest Father Daughter BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture White Male White Female Anal Sex Oral Sex Voyeurism
“It’s so pink inside,” Jennifer said.
Her voice was hushed with reverence.
“And so wet and delicious.” Jennifer said.
The beautiful woman didn’t speak. She simply leaned forward and blew a gentle stream of air across the exposed, hyper-sensitive tissues. She than took a quick lick up and down. The sensation was electric, a cool shock that made Kristy’s entire body convulse. A ragged weep tore from her throat.
“Perfect,” Jennifer declared, her eyes gleaming.
They held her there, in that state of maximum exposure, for several long moments, simply looking. Kristy felt like a pinned butterfly, her wings spread, her vibrant colors examined under a cruel microscope. She could feel their eyes on her, cataloging every ridge, every fold, every variation in color and texture. It was the most intimate and the most humiliating moment of her life.
Then, the feast began again. This time, it was different. They weren’t just licking her. They were tasting the inside walls of Kristy’s vagina. Jennifer flattened her tongue and pressed it deep, exploring the textured walls, her nose buried against Kristy’s stretched pussy. The beautiful woman used the tip of her tongue to trace the delicate, circular ridge of Kristy’s clit, a sensation so deep and foreign it made Kristy’s head spin.
“Feel how she clenches around my tongue when I do this?” Jennifer asked.
Jennifer was demonstrating a swirling motion that made Kristy’s vision white out with sensation. The beautiful woman added her own tongue, and Kristy felt the impossible sensation of both of them licking inside her at once, their tongues brushing against each other in the tight, wet space. The sounds were wet, sloppy, utterly depraved. Kristy’s mind was fracturing, the pain of the stretch and the intense, invasive pleasure merging into a single, overwhelming force.
The air in the locker room was filled with the scent of arousal and exertion. Kristy’s body, a landscape of sensation, was tight as a bowstring. Her back remained arched against the unyielding wood of the bench, but her hips had developed a life of their own. They moved in a slow, sinuous rhythm, a desperate, involuntary dance against the emptiness left by the women’s retreat. Her pussy, held open by their combined effort, was a revelation. It was a deep, wet, pink cavern, glistening under the dim light with a mixture of her own copious fluids and their thick saliva. The delicate inner walls, usually hidden, were now exposed, pulsing slightly with the frantic beat of Kristy’s heart. It was a sight of profound vulnerability, and it was utterly captivating.
Kristy’s mouth was agape, a perfect, silent ‘O’ of overwhelming sensation. Her breath came in ragged, shallow pants, each one a testament to the ordeal her body was enduring. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, stared at the ceiling, seeing nothing but the kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain exploding behind her eyelids. She was no longer a participant in her own defilement; she was its epicenter. A low, guttural sound from Jennifer broke the spell.
“I’m not done tasting,” Jennifer said.
Her voice was thick with a primal hunger. She shifted forward, her movements economical and purposeful. Without preamble, she plunged her tongue back into the gaping vagina. It was not a gentle exploration; it was a conquest. Her tongue, thick and muscular, speared deep, reaching for the very back of Kristy’s pussy. The sensation was a deep, invasive pressure, a fullness that stole Kristy’s breath and replaced it with a choked gasp. Jennifer curled the tip of her tongue, dragging it against the textured walls, scraping against sensitive nerve endings that sent jolts of electricity skittering up Kristy’s spine.
Kristy’s hips bucked violently, a sharp, upward thrust that met Jennifer’s invasive tongue. A guttural moan, raw and animalistic, was torn from her throat. The movement was instinctual, a primal response to the deep, probing stimulation. It was the motion of riding, of taking a cock deep inside, and the realization sent a fresh wave of shame and heat through her. She was riding this woman’s tongue, seeking more of the exquisite violation.
Jennifer felt the response and a smile stretched her lips, though Kristy couldn’t see it. She began to fuck Kristy with her tongue in an intense rhythm. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, her nose pressing firmly against the top of the vagina. The wet, sucking sounds were excessive. It was filling the locker room with the percussive beat of their act. Saliva, thick and copious, dripped from Jennifer’s chin. It mingled with Kristy’s own juices that now leaked in a steady, uncontrollable stream, running down the crack of her ass to pool on the bench beneath her.
After long moments of pussy eating, Jennifer pulled back, her face a glistening mask of Kristy’s juices. She took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Your turn,” she whispered to the beautiful woman.
The beautiful woman moved with grace. There was no raw hunger in her, only a chilling, focused task. She leaned in, her eyes scanning the wet, gaping pussy before her like an aficionado examining a rare jewel. Her approach was delicate, almost reverent. She extended her tongue, which was long and slender, and touched it to the very edge of the opening. It was a feather light contact, a whisper of a sensation that made Kristy’s entire body tremble.
Where Jennifer had been a storm, the beautiful woman was a study in pressure points. She slowly, deliberately, slid her tongue inside. It was a relaxed and exploratory journey. She didn’t thrust. She strolled. She traced the intricate ridges of the vaginal walls, mapping every contour, every sensitive patch of flesh. Kristy’s hips continued their rhythmic bouncing, a desperate counterpoint to the woman’s slow, torturous exploration. The moans that escaped Kristy’s lips were higher now, thinner, filled with a pleading quality.
The beautiful woman found a particularly sensitive spot on the front wall, a spongy, textured area that made Kristy cry out sharply, her body convulsing. Instead of exploiting it, the woman simply paused, the tip of her tongue resting on that spot, applying a steady, maddening pressure. She held it there, letting the sensation build to an almost unbearable peak. Kristy’s hands, cuffed beneath the bench, clenched into fists, her nails digging into her own palms. The pleasure was so intense it was a form of agony.
Then, the woman began to use her lips. She pressed them against the stretched, gaping labia, sucking gently, creating a vacuum that pulled at the sensitive tissues. The combination of the deep, steady pressure of her tongue and the pulling suction of her mouth was a new and exquisite torture. Kristy’s head thrashed from side to side, her mouth wide, silent screams of pleasure-pain catching in her throat.
Having explored the depths, the woman turned her attention to the exterior. She withdrew her tongue slowly, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from Kristy. She then lowered her head and began to kiss Kristy’s inner thighs. Her lips were soft, impossibly soft, and the kisses were gentle, almost chaste. She started high, near the juncture of Kristy’s hip, and worked her way down, leaving a trail of warm, moist impressions on the fevered skin. The contrast was dizzying. After the brutal invasion of her core, this tender worship of her thighs was disorienting, a moment of strange intimacy in the midst of her violation. She nibbled gently with her teeth, not to hurt, but to tease, raising goosebumps on Kristy’s flesh.
Jennifer watched this for a moment, her chest heaving. The sight of the other woman’s tenderness seemed to ignite a fresh fire in her.
“My turn with the outside,” she said.
Jennifer pushed the beautiful woman aside. Jennifer’s approach to Kristy’s labia was one of pure, insatiable consumption. She took one of the swollen, glistening outer lips into her mouth and sucked hard, pulling it away from Kristy’s body before letting it snap back. She bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but with enough force to send a sharp, stinging jolt of pain through Kristy.
She then used her tongue to sweep the area she had just abused, a confusing mix of pain and soothing wetness. She repeated this with the other lip, her movements sloppy and reckless. She was eating, feasting, and the sounds she made were wet, hungry, and utterly depraved. She covered every inch of the labia, her tongue exploring every crease and fold, her teeth leaving faint, temporary marks on the flushed skin. The taste was divine, and she wanted to absorb it all.