This is chapter 9 of 27. Stay tuned for more. This can be read as a stand alone story, but will mean much more if you read the preceeding chapters. Please let me know what you think so far.
* * * Chapter 9 * * *
Lilith:
The driveway blurs through the streaked windshield as I pull in at last. Home, taunting me with its veneer of normalcy, all picket fences. In reality, it is anything but normal. With my ongoing affairs with Mark, and my incestious relationship with my son, Brad. I wanted adventure, I got it. My thighs chafe with every shift in the seat— Mark's leavings tracing crusty trails along my skin, my panties serving as a sodden dam against the seep still oozing from my core, my labia puffy and tender where the friction had made them raw. Every step from the car to the front door carries a vulgar squish, my emerald dress a mess, my hair a wild crown framing a face where makeup has smudged like war paint. My groin area throbs and a prickling warning in my bladder hints ominously at infection brewing. Just my luck— a burning piss tomorrow morning. I better begin taking my pills tonight.
Brad's sedan hunkers in the driveway, a complication I can't afford in this state. Panic flickers, he can't see this disheveled wreck I've become. I ghost from the car with deliberate quiet, sliding the key into the lock with a whisper-soft turn, and once inside I slip my shoes off for quiet mobility, the foyer clock ticking out my secrets. I make straight for the downstairs bathroom without pause, sealing the door behind me with a click and throwing the bolt home for good measure. Footfalls stir distant in the house— but I ignore it all, twisting the faucet, thankful that I have made it undetected.
Water thunders into the tub, steam billowing up thick, hot enough to scald away sins. My clothes peel away in layers: the dress whispering to the tile in a defeated heap, the bra unclasping with a sigh of release, and then the panties— clinging webbed and sodden with his spend.
The water crests at last, inviting with its foam of white bubbles, and I test the heat with tentative fingers— hot bliss that draws a gasp from my lips. I sink into it inch by inch, the immersion a mercy against my skin, though the throb persists, mocking the soak's promise of relief. Just as settle in with a grateful sigh, the door knob rattles, insistent and unyielding, followed by Brad's voice through the door in a whine laced with curiosity. "Mom? Is that you?"
"Yeah, kiddo.”
"You're locked up tight in there." His tone carries that playful pout I know so well.
"Rough shift today, love— my muscles are screaming for mercy, and your dad's on his way home. He should be here soon. We've got that dinner tonight at Giovani's; I need every minute to salvage this hot mess into something presentable before he gets here."
There is no way that I could handle sex with Brad right now. Memories return of what Brad said that he wanted to do to me in the tub next time he caught me. That would have been so much better than my rendezvous with Mark in the storage room. I could have done without that detour. On the other hand, it would have been risky being with Brad in the bathroom when Robert is due to come home. Somehow, life has gotten complicated, all of a sudden.
Brad’s footsteps fade away down the hall. Tomorrow might bring its own kind of balm, soft and unhurried; but tonight demands the careful dance of facades and feasts, with all our secrets simmering just below the surface.
Sarah:
My dad is great! I don't know what he did to Dan, the groping roommate, but he is actively avoiding me now. And Dad was such a sport to play spin the bottle with me. I think most dads would have been outraged. But he allowed me to lead him deeper into an erotic experience where we were both naked, and even some kissing and touching. He could have fucked me, and at the time, that is exactly what I wanted. Heck, I even asked him to spend the night with me. I can't believe I actually did that. But when I woke up Saturday morning, I was glad that he hadn't. Instead of drilling me with his dick, he did the classy, unselfish thing and just pleasured me to a mind-blowing orgasm with his mouth and tongue. Maybe someday I will get him to fuck me, for real.
Mom and Dad have such a good relationship. I hope that if I get married, my husband and I can be just like them. I know that they have a really good sex life. Back when I was a young teen, I used to hear them sometimes in the morning in their bedroom making weird noises. I had no idea what was going on behind their closed door, but I was very curious and determined to figure it out. My older brother, Brad, caught me in the hallway with my ear to the door one morning. He took me to his room, sat me down, and educated me. He was very graphic in his explanation, and I learned more about sex from Brad than from any other source. At first, I did not believe what Brad was telling me, but then he showed me some online porn videos. The sounds that they made sounded a lot like what I heard from Mom and Dad's room. That convinced me. Brad seemed to enjoy enlightening me, and we became very close after that.
By Sunday morning, I was putting the finishing touches on my dorm room when a beautiful dark young woman walked into my room. It turned out to be Danielle, my roommate. “I didn't expect you until next week,” I say, surprised.
“Girl, I couldn't stay away. I was anxious to meet you. You are my college sister, now.”
This is the first time that we have met in person, and we hugged. She is cuter in person than her picture on Facebook, and we are almost identical in size. It wouldn't surprise me if we could share clothes. She walked around the dorm and was delighted by what I had done with the space.
We sat on my bed, talking and getting to know each other. There is one burning question that I am curious about. In her Facebook profile, under ‘Relationships,’ she left it blank. So does that mean she does not want to be in a relationship? Or had she been in one but they broke up? She is cute enough to have a boyfriend, that's for sure. So I ask her about it.
“Well,” Danielle says, “since we are going to be college sisters, I will tell you something that I haven't told anyone else. I do want a relationship; I'm just not sure what kind.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“I'm not sure if I want to be with a boy or a girl,” she says with a grin. “I mean, I have been with boys, and I like boys okay. But I have been with other girls, and I might like them even better.” When she finishes her explanation, she watches me to see how I react.
I smile and nod in understanding. I definitely like boys, myself. But I don't have anything against people that feel differently. “So, would you say that you are lesbian? Or are you bisexual? Or how do you identify?” I ask.
“See, that's just the thing. I don't really know. I am still trying to figure that out for myself. Have you ever been with another girl?” she asks, nervously.
“No, I like boys,” I reiterate.
Danielle giggles. “Yeah, you said that already. But you're in college now. It's a time of learning and exploration. All girls experiment with having sex with other girls in college. It's part of figuring out who we are.”
I sat thinking about what Danielle said. Did all girls mess around with other girls? I'm pretty sure that is an exaggeration. It occurs to me that she has already experimented with both sexes, but still has not figured it out.
“Look, can I tell you something super secret?” Danielle asks. “You got to pinky promise that you won't think that I'm creepy or hate me for it.” She has a look of pleading in her eyes.
“Of course, Danielle. I would never think you are creepy. Don't worry, you can trust me.” My mind goes to what my dad and I did just yesterday. Some people—probably lots of people—would say that is creepy. Whatever she is about to tell me probably isn't as edgy as that.
Danielle folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. I can see that she has made up her mind to tell me, but that it's still not easy for her. “Well, you know that I chose you to be my dorm mate?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard, seeing where this might be going.
“Part of the reason that I chose you is that I am attracted to you.” Now she looks into my face, trying to gauge my reaction.
I look away, trying to process the idea. Danielle picked me because she wants to have sex with me? I don't know how to feel about that.
Danielle quickly goes on to explain. “I mean, when I first saw your name on the freshman list and looked you up on Facebook, I just thought you seemed cool and like someone that I would enjoy hanging out with. We share a lot of the same interests, and I knew that we would get along well together. I thought about how lost and scared I felt a year ago when I started here as a freshman, and I wanted to make it better for you. I guess I thought of myself as maybe being your college experience guide. Sounds silly and presumptuous, I know.”
“No!” I object. “It sounds really sweet.”
Danielle continues. “It was at that time that I submitted an invitation for you to share a dorm with me. But as time went on and I learned more about you from Facebook and started following you on Instagram, I began to be attracted to you. To be honest, I became a little infatuated with you.” She fell silent, studying my face again, looking for outrage or revulsion.
“I don’t know what to say. I'm flattered that you find me attractive.” I slide a lock of my long hair behind my ear and look Danielle in the face. She is clearly terrified, waiting to see how I will react. “Recently I was with a guy, and he made me feel really special.”
“Oh, I get it,” Danielle interrupts. “So you are already taken. I looked on Facebook for signs that you had a steady, but didn't see anything.”
“No.” I interrupt. “Nothing like that. The guy I was with is very masculine, and he made me feel secure, protected.” I say, dreamily. “And he had a really nice dick.” I say with a smirk. At that, we both had a good laugh, and the tension drained out of the room. “He made me cum so hard that I literally passed out. I mean, it was so intense that I couldn't do a thing, even though I was aware of my surroundings. And he didn't even fuck me. He was so sweet.”
“Wow. I've never had a boy that did that for me. My experience with guys is that they don't really care about my feelings, and just want to get into my pants. And then, when they get what they want… when they get their rocks off… Well, they pull out, leaving me feeling empty, alone, and used.” Danielle paused her story and wiped a tear from her eye. Then, going on, “You’d better hang on to that guy! You found someone that's really special.”
Now I feel like I'm going to cry. I still can't bring myself to tell Danielle that the guy that I am talking about is married. That he is married to my mom. And that, in fact, he is my daddy. When I put it like that, it sounds so messed up. I know that I cannot have him, but my dad does a great job of modeling what it would be like to have a great guy. The man of my dreams. Perhaps I am just a dreamer, and naive. But I believe that the perfect guy is out there, somewhere, just waiting for me.
I continue. “I don't know if another girl could do it for me. I like to feel looked after, protected, and taken care of. I like the feeling of big, strong arms around me, holding me tight. I love to dance with a tall man, to be able to look up into his face and see the love there. I like the way that I feel when a man looks at me and desires me. When a man can't keep his eyes off of me.”
Confiding in Danielle, I tell her more about the guy that made me feel special. “Unfortunately, it's complicated. I can't see myself being with that guy long term. But that is the kind of thing that I want from my life partner. And I believe that it should last forever. It should be someone that I can grow old with.”
“Boy, you are a dreamer, aren't you? No. It sounds sweet, really. It sounds really nice… Okay. I understand that you like boys. You don't need to feel pressure to do anything with me. I should not have even brought it up. I think we will get along famously, anyway. But know that, if you ever want to try something on the wild side, I'm your girl! And just because we do something fun, it doesn't mean that you are batting for the other team right away. You can just live a little, you know. Try other things,” Danielle explained.
“I like that,” I tell her, smiling. I feel something like love for Danielle. She is being so vulnerable with me.
“Thanks, Danielle. By the way, how does it work?”
“What do you mean?”
“Since neither of us has a dick, how do you have sex? I'm sorry. It's just something that I have always wondered about,” I ask, embarrassed.
“I see.” Danielle laughed, good-naturedly. “Don't you watch movies or porn or anything? Girl, you need to get out more! I'll tell you what. Let me enlighten you. Sex, at least really good sex, is not all about penetration.”
“But I like the feeling of fullness. And if you hit the right spot, get the right angle… It's like nirvana.” So saying, I feel a shudder go through me.
“I hear ya, sister! I got something for that.” Danielle walks out of my room and goes into hers. Returning, she has a large black rubber dildo. Holding it high, it wobbles about, and we both laugh at it. She hands it to me to check it out. It actually reminds me of one that I found in my mom's nightstand once. “So tell me,” she asks. “What are other things that you like? Things that really get your engine going?”
“Hmm… let me see. I go crazy when guys kiss different places on my body besides just my lips. Like my neck, my shoulders, and my inner thighs.” Danielle nods in agreement, indicating that I should continue. “I like to have my boobs played with. Just a little bit of nipple play, not too much.”
Danielle smiles and offers, “What about feet? Do you like it when someone plays with your feet?”
“Not really. I'm too ticklish. But I really like long hugs. Just hold me tight.” I find myself looking off in the distance. Memories of some great hugs come to mind.
With that, Danielle bounces out of bed and stands before me, grinning wickedly. “I love a good hug, too.” Opening her arms wide, she gestures for me to come to her.
Tentatively, I get out of bed. “This feels awkward,” I say.
“Oh come on, Sarah. We hugged when we first met today. Come! Bring it home.” With that kind of invitation, I could not stay away. We come together like magnets and melt into each other's arms. I lay my head on her shoulder, and she lays her head on mine. Our breasts mash together, soft and full, hip to hip, heat blooming where we touch. A full minute stretches on, electricity flowing. Danielle’s fingers stroke my long hair, sending shivers down my spine. She murmurs, her breath hot against my ear, carrying a citrus tang mixed with her rising musk… earthy, intoxicating, making my thighs clench.
She whispers in my ear, “Your hair is so soft and silky. I wish my hair were like that.” I stroke her hair to see what it feels like. I don't think that I have ever felt the hair on a Black person before. It is surprisingly soft and buoyant, a lot like fine pubic hair. It isn't wiry like my grandma's terrier, as I expected. Danielle's hair is full of soft, tight curls.
Then, her lips brush my neck. Not a peck, but a slow, open-mouthed drag, her tongue tasting my pulse. Fire ignites, racing down my spine and coiling tight in my core. “Oh, fuck,” I whimper, arching into it. She trails lower, wet sucking kisses along my collarbone, nipping the curve of my shoulder. Pausing, her eyes lock onto mine, dark pools of hunger, her full lips glistening, parting on a ragged breath. “You taste like sin,” she whispers. Her voice is like honey, dripping with promise. Our lips crash together, soft at first, then devouring, tongues tangling in a wet, desperate duel.
Danielle’s hands roam wild, snaking up my shirt, her nails grazing my skin, setting my nerves ablaze. My hands slip under her tee, palms gliding over buttery-smooth skin, fever-hot. We break for air, foreheads pressed together, panting. Her bra’s in the way, so I hook my fingers under the straps and push it up slow, teasing, watching her tits spill free. Her dark nipples harden in the cool air, begging for the warmth of my mouth.
She gasps, a throaty laugh bubbling up. “Sneaky little fox,” she says with a sidelong smile. But her eyes scream for more; she arches, offering them to me. I cup her breasts, thumbs circling those stiff peaks, pinching just hard enough to draw a hiss. Her breath hitches, body trembling. Payback’s swift. She claws at my back, finding the clasp, and pops it free. Shirts fly—first hers, then mine—bras tumbling without a thought. We stand topless, only inches apart, air thick with our shared heat. Her skin glows a deep mahogany. Mine prickles with goosebumps. Strangely, I don’t feel awkward at all. “Isn’t this fun?” she purrs, her voice low and filthy.
In answer, I close the gap between us. Bare tits crush together, nipples rubbing, sending electric jolts straight to my clit. We melt into it, a topless tangle, her tongue invading my mouth again, deeper, hungrier. She tastes like want, her moans vibrating into my mouth as I grind my thigh between her legs, feeling her damp heat seep through denim.
Pulling back, she looks at me with eyes that I can only describe as feral. “Off with your pants. Right now.” Her hands dive to my shorts, fumbling with the button. Impatient, her nails scrape my hips. I help, shimmying them down along with my panties, kicking them free. Exposed, my pussy throbs, slick and swollen, aching for touch. I don’t hide. Instead, I flaunt my body, spreading my stance, letting her drink me in. Her gaze rakes me, reverent and hungry. “Fuck, Sarah. You’re soaked already.”
“Your turn.” I attack her pants like they are the enemy—the button, then the zipper. Pushing them down to her ankles, she gingerly steps out of both her shorts and her panties, her boobs jiggling with the motion. Her bush is trimmed tight, lips puffy and glistening with her juices. A bead of her arousal trails down her thigh. We are frozen, devouring each other visually. Twenty-four hours ago, we were strangers. Now we are naked and unabashed. Two bodies primed, trembling with anticipation.
Danielle grabs me by the hand and pulls me to the bed. “On your back, gorgeous. Let’s put a pillow here.” Placing a folded pillow under my head, propping it up. Then she straddles my head, swinging a leg over, her ass hovering just above my face. 69, holy shit! “Ever tasted pussy, freshie?” she teases. Her voice is muffled as she dips to kiss and nip at my inner thighs, her breath warming my folds.
“Only in my fantasies,” I admit, voice husky, barely able to speak at all. Taking a moment, I study her pussy, which is only a few inches from my face. I see stubble sprouting where she shaves, and the fine hair on her inner thighs. Her folds glisten and are open slightly, revealing her tunnel. Her clit is erect, pushing out the hood, which is swollen in lust. Looking up past her boobs, which are hanging down, I see Danielle’s face looking down in awe between my splayed legs, worshiping my pussy. Up close, her scent hits like a drug. Musky-sweet… feminine fire. I grip her ass, plump cheeks overflowing my hands, firm yet yielding, and pull her down. My tongue darts out, tentative at first, along her outer lips. The taste is salty-sweet, exploding on my tongue.
She shudders, a guttural “Yesss” escaping as she mirrors me. Fingers parting my lips, tongue plunging in without mercy, lapping my clit like it’s her last meal.
Chaos erupts. Her hips rock, smearing wetness across my face. I suck her folds, tongue-fucking her entrance while my nails dig into her hips. Sloppy slurping sounds fill the room, her moans vibrating against my core, my whimpers lost in her heat. She adds a finger, then two, curling ruthlessly on my G-spot. Her thumb grinds on my clit in slick circles. Pressure builds, white-hot, coiling tighter. I’m drowning in her, the taste of salt and spice, the quiver of her walls clenching my tongue, her ass flexing under my palms.
She lifts suddenly, spinning away with a wicked grin. “Not yet. You were this close to gushing on my face.” She wipes her face with the corner of the sheet. “Tribbing time. Legs wide, baby. Let me ride that pretty pussy into the sunset.”
“Don’t know anything about that. You’ll have to show me,” I beg, spreading my legs shamelessly. She kneels between my thighs, lowering herself slowly, her wet heat brushing mine like a promise. Contact: labia sliding, clits kissing in a spark of pure filth. She starts to grind, circling first. Our swollen folds mashing together, slick with our mingling juices. Then forward-back, humping hard, obscene squelching sounds fill the room. “Feel that?” she gasps, her voice breaking. “Your clit’s throbbing against mine. Oh, fuck. You’re gonna make me cum!”
Bucking up into Danielle, our rhythms match, frantic, feral, chasing our release. Tits bounce wild as she leans in, pinching my nipples. Sweat slicks our skin, the bed creaks mercilessly. Pressure finally snaps, and a shudder rips through me, coiling and crashing. I scream in short, shattered bursts. My pussy pulsing, gushing against hers in waves that blind me. She collapses beside me, her body unable to support her. Her hand flies to her clit, fingers blurring, abs clenching as she chases her peak. A low wail tears free.
We lay side by side, gasping for air like fish. I feel completely satisfied. It is so good that I am with Danielle. I think that she will be my secret weapon for getting through college.
When we are calmed down enough to speak, Danielle asks me, “So how do you like being a lesbian?”
We both laugh out loud. “I ain't no lesbian!” I say in reply. “I am just learning how to have fun with my new best friend.”
Then I add, “Let's go take a shower together, or are you afraid for me to see you naked?”
“Ha! Have you seen our tiny shower? Do you think this is the Taj Mahal?” Danielle cries.