Maid to serve

Lesli (F Solo NS)

I don't like to think of myself as a "Bad girl," but then I do things I shouldn't. Not because they are bad, and I'm not some goody two shoes, but I've done some pretty bad things, and this was one of the worst.

I was working for some extra cash, over the summer, and it was mostly housework, with some baby-sitting when they needed me to. I wouldn't call it snooping, I took a load of their clothes to the laundry, and brought it back. Then while I was putting it away, I found something in the back of one of the drawers. I knew what it was, the mother's vibrator, I had heard of them, and I even knew what it was for. I tried it, even though I knew I shouldn't, mostly just to find out what it was all about.

"Hm!" I turned it on, and sat on the corner of their bed, so I could put it away quick when they came back. At first I just buzzed it around the area, through my underwear. I had a housekeeping uniform, my mom's. She worked occasionally to make ends meet, and while it wasn't the sort of thing I planned to make a career of, I like having the extra cash, and it turned out to be a good thing to work in. Also, it was fairly easy to slip up, then back down again, when the owners of the house came back.

They weren't old, or disabled, I wouldn't call them wealthy, but they had a little more money, and both worked. Several children, and not a lot of time to take care of the place. I guess it felt, all right. I was definitely feeling it, but not all hot and wet like the stories. Pleasurable, certainly, but I guess it took a while for it to feel better, and better.

I don't know, about sex. I mean, I do, I know what it is, what it's for, and roughly how you go about it. I'd read stories, and heard them, giggling with my friends, but had never truly felt anything, erotic before. "Hihn!" I was starting to, feel something. Well, the vibrator, and the dry cotton between me, and. Well, I also had some idea of where it had been. It didn't smell dirty, I didn't know what it's supposed to smell like, but then I thought about that. Where it had been, and the thought of having it there.

Well, I suppose I was beginning to feel a little warm. "Huh!" I fanned my hands on my face, I had cleaned the bathroom, and scrubbed the tub, and that was pretty hot, but not the way my friends ment it, when they said that. I had wondered, when they talked about it, getting hot, or the hots for someone, and wondered what that was like. "Oh." So, now I know that. "Hm!"

I was really starting to enjoy it when they got back, with groceries, so I turned it off, and put it back. Helped them put it away, while she started cooking, and tried not to act too embarrassed. I excused myself, and got my money, but decided that I need to get one of those. That, and it was uncomfortable, working in the kitchen with her after what I had done.

It was bad, but at the same time I couldn't help but think about it. Where it had been, and being so close to her, the secret, and trying not to grin as much as avoid her eyes. Afraid she would see the guilt in my face, and terrified she'd ask me about it. However, also very hot, and that feeling didn't go away. With her there, it just wouldn't go away even with the guilt, and fear I was also feeling, so I thought about that.

And shamefully, her underwear. When I got home, she has some very nice things, silky panties, and lacy bras. Which made me think about what they have in there, after handling her things, and playing with her vibrator, and being in the kitchen with her. She had on a simple blouse, and skirt, pantie hose, and flats. Her hair down, and I wonder a little about what I didn't see, because she had them on under her clothes.

I didn't have a crush on her, or anything, but I certainly shouldn't have done that, and for sure shouldn't doing this. Thinking about her like that, but I like this feeling, and I really feel my fingers through my rough dry cotton, and wish they were nicer. Softer, silkier, and of course I had a vibrator to feel through them. I bet they padded it a little, and I'm sure she washed it, but still.

"Huh!" Where it had been. I could imagine, taking off my underwear, and touching myself with it, with where it had been. "Hihn!"

So, I got my hand in there, and sure enough, I was hot. Not wet in there, my pubes especially felt dry, and crackly, but "Oh!" I wonder if she has them, or shaves? I know some girls shave, I started shaving my legs, but I got a little scared. How do you shave there? I'm sure I could figure it out, but I bet I'd make a mistake, and cut myself there, but it never bothered me before. Having hair in the way, but. "Huh!" I think I'll try it, the next time I shave my legs in the bath.

I'm definitely hot now, so much so that the dress is getting uncomfortable, so I take that off, but you know, the naughty maid stories? I don't know how many dirty stories you read, but I'm sure you've at least seen the outfit. The French maid's, or the strippers. "Oh!" Yeah, what if she did catch me, with her toy. What if she liked it?

Or what if she was mad, and. Spanked me? "OH!"

Yeah, it is the Naughty maid after all. "Hihihn!" Also, she's a woman, which makes it homosexual I guess. I don't know any, homosexuals I mean, or I don't think so, but after what I did, and then being there and trying to keep a straight face, and now doing this. Thinking about her spanking me for being such a naughty naughty maid.

"Huh!" Not that I want her to, spank me. It's funny, but I'm not laughing. Maybe not, spank me. Maybe just sit me down in her lap, and slip it up under my dress. Between my legs, and touch me with it. The end of it, buzzing like it did. I didn't use it like that, I just sat on it so I could feel it, well vibrate. In my bones, but also, in my soft tender hot young flesh.

Maybe she would be proud of me, for all my work. I worked extra hard to make it everso clean, and I was just so tired. I must have fallen asleep, when I was turning down your bed. "Yeah." She appreciates hard work, and I am such a good hard worker. I didn't take any breaks, to play with her toy, I'm not a naughty little maid. I grinned.

"Yeah." I am. "Hihihn!"

Of course she wouldn't, she's happily married, but a girl can dream. I might as well get some sleep. "Hihn!" But I really need to get me one of those!

Of course, that wasn't even close to the worst thing I had done. Just the first time I thought about it, being naughty, and I liked it. So, I guess I do like to think about myself as a naughty girl, sometimes. Not all the time, but the next time, of course it got worse.

My Treat (Gs NS Talk)

I pretty much forgot about it, but the next day I had money, so I took my friends out, "My treat!" You know, lunch, hot summer day, so then ice-cream, and we went out to the park to talk. You know, girl stuff, but there were boys, and a lot of them looked. A lot of us looked back, and giggled. So, then we started talking about dirty stuff, so I admitted that I tried a vibrator, and played with myself, last night.

"Your mom's?"

"Oh, she doesn't have one. She thinks there's something wrong with it."

"Vibrators?"

"Well, what they're for. You know." I lowered my voice, 'playing with yourself?' I didn't say where I got my hands on one, they asked, I just didn't say.

"What about you? You do it, right?"

"Well," she blushed, and looked away. So, I didn't have to answer that.

"Who here tried playing with herself?" I raised my hand. There were a few more, most of them just looked around, didn't want to say anything. "Oh, they can't hear you." A few more, low so nobody could see, but there was a lot of laughs. "With a vibrator?" A few hands went down, "Her mother's vibrator?" I laughed, "Ew! After where it's been!?" We all laughed, but we didn't make fun. I didn't, "Oh, it's okay." Now I knew, which one's mom had one. So, maybe we could go to her house, and, you know. Play with it? "I didn't touch it. I mean, I picked it up, but I didn't. Stick it in anywhere. I just sat on it, in my underwear."

"Did it feel good?"

"Yeah, but not right away. I felt weird, you know the buzzing, but then I started thinking about." Stupid.

"What?" I looked away. "Who, yeah who?"

"Nobody?" Until later, "Just underwear."

"Really?"

"Well, sexy underwear. I just had plainol' panties on, but you know. How it would feel in silky underwear!"

"Ooh!"

"Or," even better, "Satin?"

"Yeah!"

Oh yeah, and it the morning, I took a shower, but I smelled them. When I got up, and took them off, but I never sniffed panties before. Again, I didn't know what they're supposed to smell like, but after what I did. "Snhhhh?" I could really smell it. So, I went and washed up really good, and then I went out with my friends.

It's not really that naughty, right? Being a panty sniffer, I mean your own panties, but now while I was out with my friends. We started talking about other stuff, and hung out all day because it's summer, and we can just hang out all day, but then I started thinking about that. Their underwear, and getting hot in their panties, talking about vibrators, and playing with myself.

Getting stinky in their underpants, not like I wanted to sniff them or anything. Just kind of wondered if we all smelled the same, and what they were wearing, under there. And boys, they talked about boys, all the girls walking around dressed for summer, we keep seeing boys, and they keep seeing us. So, they talk about whether he's cute or not, or who thinks he's hot.

"Yeah, maybe in a few years." I stuck up my pinky. They laughed, but that made me think, and then the question came around to me again.

"Well, who do you think is cute?"

"Oh, I don't know." I said a name, but, you know? I never really thought about boys. Or thought about that, how my friends talk about them, but I only just started thinking about girls, so. "Yeah." That's uncomfortable. I mean, I'm not. Homosexual, right? Well, okay, maybe I am homosexual, but that leaves me with a problem. If I wasn't I know lots of boys that want to go out with me. Or would, if I wanted to go out with them, but now I'm out with all the girls, and they don't know.

And I don't know, if any of them are homosexual too. I mean, we read stories together, on sleepovers and there's lots of action between women, girls, and even women and girls. And men with women or girls of course too, not any male male action thought, which is fine because ew, but. Now, is not the best time to realize boys=ew. Across the board, I don't even want to think about that, and do you just snap your fingers and turn gay like that?

I don't know, I think I just did, but being friends like this means doing friend things. Like going to the bathroom with me, and sleeping over. Seeing eachother naked and in our underwear, which reminds me, I had seen them all naked and in their underwear. It just wasn't sexy before, but now I'm surrounded by all these girls laughing and joking, about sex among other things, and thinking about them in their underwear.

Oh yeah, and underwear. I'm still figuring this all out, but that's definitely a big thing. Sexy underwear, I'm feeling more hot thinking about that then them naked right now, so. "Well," I pretended to check my watch "I got to go."

"Where?"

"Work, if you girls are gonna help me spend all this money I have to put in the hours. Bye!" I waved.

"Uh?" They just went back to talking, but now I have to think. I like girls, and women. Don't forget that, so now I have to answer the big question. "Who do you think is hot?"

Toddler

Okay, so babysitting is a bad idea. I mean, she's not a baby, she's potty training, but that means big girl panties, and squatting, and wiping when she's done, all of which is a really bad idea. I've seen girls naked, lots of girls, my age, and probably girls that young when I was that age. But I definitely don't need to be touching little girls, watching them pee, or sniffing their underwear.

Especially when there's a vibrator in the house, because I'm supposed to be watching her, and not digging through her drawers. Her underwear drawer, or one of them, the bras are in the one next to it, but thank goodness she's going down for a nap, because as bad as trying on her peach satin panties, sitting on her toy, and sniffing her dirty underwear, I could be downstairs molesting her daughter.

"Oh," and by the way, that's what an orgasm feels like. "OH!" Hold your breath, try not to wake her up. "Nh. NH!" Shake my head, "MrhH!" Good gracious that's intense! "Hih hin! Hihn!" Okay, maybe one more "Snh!" She does smell different. Perfumey, I don't know what she washes with down there, but I can check the bathroom, just moved the bottles around scrubbing the corners, but I can smell her too, and yeah. That's different. Is it because she's older? Did she get turned on or play with herself in them? I don't know, but I like it! Especially knowing what it is. The crotch of her underwear, so obviously that odor comes from somewhere and it's not. Well. It doesn't smell like. That. Ew.

That's better.

So, go read a book or something, they don't fit me anyway, I don't have her hips, or. Okay, I already thought about her rear. She has a lot more rear, and I'm sure I'll get more hips like mom, but. EW! Shake my head, maybe shake my hands around a little bit too, but you ever try to unthink something? Let me know if you have any better luck. I'm still very very new at this, I chickened out trying to shave again, and you know what? I'm glad, I don't really want to be smooth and hairless like. Well, I guess that's better than thinking about my mother's ass. So. "Huh!"

I brought a book. Read it. It's one of those "Romance" books without a single actual romance in it. The main character is already married, and while her husband is away at war, she fucks around. A lot, with pretty much everyone else in the book. She's not looking for love, says she already found it, I already read it so I know he doesn't make it back, but she has a maid. And sex, with every single other character in the book. So, maybe that's where I got that from, but I just had my first orgasm, I'm not even going to try to find the words to describe it, she has one just about every page, and it's been almost a year, so I try to find just those parts again.

Of course the maid works there, all the time, so she has sex with her. All the time. It's just not very romantic, if this is the same one I'm thinking of, she hooks up with a rich aristocrat in the end to run off to Europe for even more money, but this is housewife porn. They all kind of run together. Also, satin does feel a lot better. A whole lot better, if that orgasm is any indication, so when I get done here, I need to go out and get some better underwear. Sexy underwear, like the Heiress, with her leg up on some guy so you can see the top of her stocking, and the strap on her garter belt, so maybe that's where That came from?

She has a lot of sexy underwear, I forgot about. Half the sex scenes go into incredible detail about her feeling it, or his hands on it, or slipping her skirt up to reveal the back of her black panties stretched over her rear, and gently taking the fether duster away. "Huh!" Wet satin, it turns out, is actually a little uncomfortable, it started leaking out. And while it doesn't feel like that time of the month, didn't just about fall over with an orgasm? Ticling, I'll have to try that, while I never liked it before, I never looked at a toddlers crotch, and licked my lips either, so I should probably try not to think about that too much, and who knows how long she's going to be asleep today?

She's one of those that keeps running until she falls over. Then, some indeterminate time later, she back up, and bouncing off the walls again. I can handle her, but I really need the break from it, and. "Huh!" I haven't run the batteries down yet, so I better get it while it's hot. Save my place, this is a pretty hot slap, and tickle scene, but I need to clear my head, and who knows what the second one will feel like?

"Snh?" Oh, yeah. "Snhhhh!" These are nice and stinky now, and it'll be all right if I wash it of, after, right? I mean, it's obviously washable, she always keeps it nice and clean so she doesn't soil her underthings, but I'm stealing a pair of her underwear. I know I shouldn't, but. "Snhhh!" Yeah, I'm totally stealing this filthy pair of underwear. It smells more like me than ger now, and it feels so damp it clings to my nose and my lip, so as long as I'm getting stinky, I might as well taste it, and suck my juice out of the fabric. "Phhhh! Huh!" Yeah. "Nh! NH!" Grinding it.

"Wo," Oh? "Zat?" She points. Sort of, right between my legs.

"Uh," pull them out of my mouth, "It's." Not what it looks like. She's 2, who's she going to tell? "This?"

She nodded, "This is a magic wand." Now where are my underpants? Straightened my shirt. "Let me just clean this off," and put it away before your mommy comes back. "Now, what do you want to play?" Dry it carefully, there's some hand wash only things in that drawer.

"Phaiwies!"

"Okay!"

I told you it got worse.

;

Mrs. Tress (F Mono Fear. That last one basically means sexual phobias, like homophobia, which comes in all sorts of wonderful varieties.)

My name is not important, and I am an exhibitionist. Well, I suppose now you could say I am a child molester, but I get ahead of myself. I am not a repeat offender, I only did it once, and I have no intent on doing it again. I'm only writing this to try to understand what came over me, and how I could be so depraved. Also to reassure myself that it was a 1 time thing, so first I have to examine how I got here.

I suppose I could blame my mother. I wouldn't call her an exhibitionist, or at least she wouldn't admit to it, but she was always more than a little bit flirty. She never ment anything by it, of course. She wouldn't cheat on her husband, but she did like to make him jealous. He is, to this very day, and would always get violently territorial with any man who so much as looked at her.

In retrospect, I can even say she encouraged him, because not only did she solicit such looks, they always had passionate sex afterwards. Her encouragement for other men could be anything from a look and a smile, the leaning back, and taking a deep breath. To hold her chest higher, her top tighter, she liked to dressed provocatively, and father liked to see her dressed this way. Tight pants, tops, skimpy swimsuits, or short skirts, I even caught her spreading her knees for a flash of panties, quite a few times.

I remember her catching me, seeing it, and I couldn't see the look on my face, but she did. With a wry wink, and grin, then turning to my father. I couldn't hear what she whispered to my father, no doubt something to the effect of "I do believe that man is looking at my legs." Once again demurely crossed, and covering her chest modestly with a look of fright on her face.

Then he'd stomp off, yelling, and chase him away with his tail between his legs. Then they'd go fuck at their earliest opportunity. They weren't always careful about where they'd go, once she had his blood up, that's what she called it, but I knew what she ment. That pretty much was my sexual education, I took it at school, and when I started getting visits from my little friend, she told me what that was. Other than that, it was listening to mother and father fuck. Passionately, loudly, bumping into stuff, wherever the mood took them, and then realizing at a very young age how she went about getting her blood up.

How young? I have no idea. This was my parents, their relationship, I just have no idea how old I was when I knew, consciously what was going on. I just remember seeing it, in the old house, which we moved out of when he got his new job. So, I couldn't have been 14 yet. I was a girl, a little girl, and before mom explained why I started bleeding, because I had started bleeding.

So, I didn't so much discover boys as fulfill my desire to have one of my own, in the only way that I knew how. I started growing up, and I wasn't shy about showing that off. You see, I am also heterosexual, or I had never had any reason to doubt my heterosexuality, until recently. I like girls, we're great to hang out with, but mother masturbated. I knew that, heard that too, and wondered how that worked without my father until I saw her.

She had a toy, of course. She was watching some action movie or other, I don't remember, it was a fist fight. There were a number of them at the time, it was a while ago, so the sort of old timey knuckle busters they used to have on back then, and my mother apparently liked to masturbate to. She likes violence, it turns her on, I can only assume that's why she married my father because of the story of how they met.

I'm not going to recount it, long story short, he won her, fighting over her with another man, violently. There were 2 of them, he won, they went off and fucked. Are you starting to pick up on the pattern? Good, that's the story I grew up with. He hit her too, they didn't have sex after that, but he had a temper, and acted it out with his fists. Why I abhor violence, and don't really care for violent men. He never hit me, but smacked my brothers around, and spanked them, and scared the shit out of me, on a far too regular basis.

I found a kind, and gentle man, in touch with his feelings, with a good career. So, we never wanted for anything, fought over money, he drinks socially, I've never seen him drunk, and I love him dearly. As a bonus, he gave me 3 wonderful children, and he doesn't mind men looking at me, in fact it turns him on. So, like my mother before me, I am an exhibitionist, my daughters know about sex, they're not shy about it, and know to tell boys that call them "Slut" to go fuck themselves.

They are not sluts, I raised them properly, without a violent drunk. About all we hid from them in the sexual department was the kinkier aspects of their father's cuckold fetish, because I don't want to confuse them. I stated earlier, I never cheated on him. Well, not before, we made it 17 years without incident, because he didn't mind other men looking at me, and very much enjoys watching me suck one off in a back alley, or seat, or movie thereafter, or what have you. That's why I carry rubbers in my purse, we always had unprotected sex, and have children to show for it, but those men were strangers.

Part of the fantasy, I only sucked of 1 person we knew, his boss, and that complicated our relationship. He had to quit, got fired instead, we fought, and even threatened divorce until he got another job, I could quit mine, and our marriage could go back to normal. So, we never did that again, and stuck to strangers after that. Also, we went out once our oldest was old enough to watch the kids, so we didn't expose them to that.

I can't think of anything else that might have direct bearing, so I suppose it's time to face what I just did. I had sex, with a girl from the neighborhood, she's only 12, and that makes me a child molester. Granted, an older child, she's not completely a little girl, but that doesn't excuse taking advantage of her, cheating on my husband, endangering my marriage, my freedom, and the livelyhood of my children. I have a daughter that age, I can go to jail if the police find out, and right now I don't know if I should, or if I am a threat to my own daughter?

No, of course not, I would never seriously consider such a thing, but I never seriously considered, any of this, and it didn't stop me. I molested a child, and from what I've read, child molesters always offend. I have an 11 year old daughter, she's friends with the victim. Oh my god, I have a victim! What if she finds out? I never told her it was a secret, not to talk to anyone about it, and that's just the sort of thing a child molester tells their victims.

I need to think about this some more. All right, go back to what I did, and how I feel about it now has nothing to do with how I felt about it, at the time. I was horny, in the back yard, working on my tan, and thinking about my husband. Watching from the window, and another man with me. Then on the beach, in a bikini like this, only my fantasy became so passionate, and involved I could almost imagine the sound of the waves, and the salt in the air.

So, I got out the suntan lotion, and started working on the parts under my suit. I have tanlines, I don't sunbather nude, I like them, and so does my husband. The shape of the bikini brings out my admittedly ample breasts, I'm not ashamed of my body, and I have a couple fingers for anyone who tries to shame me, or my daughters for having them. Well, not Emily (Not her real name) but when she gets older.

Oh, my god, I did. I thought about her while I was masturbating in my back yard! Okay, I really need to do this, it terrifies me, but I was even starting to feel it again when I thought of that, and now I'm ashamed enough to admit it. I thought about her, tiny swells developing to more than a little padding under her nipples, her hips filling out, getting her a real bra, and of all things some hairs between her legs. With mine, crinkling in my greasy palm, and my fingers slipping between the sun warmed folds of my sex.

I just masturbated, thinking about my daughter. If it had stopped there, it was only pure coincidence.

No.

Don't lie to yourself. I have done it before, to both of my daughters. If I had a third one, I would have named her Emily, but ever since my eldest, caught me the first time, and I told her what I was doing. I thought about her, with boys, or at least thinking about them, and playing with herself. So, yes. I suppose I am a pedophile, I just never had reason to face it.

I did it too, when I was that age, learning how to do it, and thinking about my mother. Being like my mother, so desirable, and now that I am older, I am reminded of all the times I told myself I would never be like her. But she isn't, she never. To my knowledge. Well, she never touched me, but I just flashed back to her. I can't say it was the first time, much less the only time, I caught her with that big plastic thing she cheated on my father with.

Just the way she looked at me, when she saw me. My hands clamped between my legs, her wry smile, and her wink. I ran away, I was much too young, it didn't turn me on, it grossed me out, and while I never did that, specifically to any of my daughters, I have been known to share a knowing wink. When I caught her, looking at boys. There was one, at them mall, he looked at her, leered really, and grinned charmingly.

She looked at me, ashamed, and crossed her legs. I should have said something, told her there's nothing wrong, just part of the mating dance of the north American teenager, but I didn't. I just smiled, and winked, just like mom. In retrospect, I could even call it a little flirty. So, at least I'm not lying to myself, about that. So, back to the part I just avoided.

Roll a pair of dice enough times, and eventually it will come up snake eyes. I just wasn't thinking about that, I was thinking about a Paradise, and a big broad muscular hairy tanned man in a speedo. Having unprotected sex with him, right there on the beach, so my husband caught us at it when he came back with the drinks. Because it's a little naughty, forbidden, I always saved myself for him, because it makes him so passionate, and satisfying when he sees me with another man.

But, tanning, and masturbating in the yard often enough, and eventually someone would catch me. Other than my husband, or my children, sometime's they'd come home, and when I finished I'd catch them looking out the window. This after, it was my daughter's friend, coming in the side gate, and by that time I was wearing nothing more than a tan, and a liberal coat of lotion.

"Oh!" I don't remember the conversation so well. I wasn't even close, just very aroused, and toying with the thought of going inside, and toying with myself, to protect my tanlines. I remember her exlaimation, when she saw me, and the look on her face. It reddened immediately, and I sat up, to tye up my bottoms, and fix my top. I didn't take it off, I still had the top hanging around my neck, and was sitting on the bottoms, but I didn't hurry to cover myself, and she did not look away.

Shyly, but she watched me. She knew what I was doing, and she asked about it, but one of the questions was certainly not "What are you doing?" She knew, and admitted to having started on the road of self discovery herself. I'll call her Emily then, as much as I'm being honest with myself, I don't actually want to go there. I wouldn't fare very well, I am too attractive, nonviolent, and can barely imagine the rough ugly women there who would no doubt take advantage of me.

Though I probably deserve it. I asked if she was a Virgin, I know I shouldn't have done that, then invited her in to see if my daughter was home. Of course not, I couldn't be that fortunate, but the front was locked, which is why she came around the side to check, and at some point I rolled snake-eyes. 2, dark, and very curious eyes, which flitted back, and forth, from my face to my chest, and I was till very much turned on from what I had started.

You know, seriously considering cumming inside, for a finish with any of my collection of toys.

Alone.

But that's not what happened.

;

Leslita (GF Saph Sedu)

{The proceeding, and following chapter were basically an attempt to write like the competition on the eponymous site. Look it up, I got carried away. Just like I did with Ruth, who started out a utility character back when it was all about Gloria realizing she was a boy giving a homeless guy handjobs through the Fences. How these go, I always surprise myself.}

My name is not Emily, but I'm gay. Not a "Lesbian," I hate that word, it brings to mind a big fat short haired man hating bull dyke. I'm a girl, a girly girl, who happens to have a thing for busty women. Straight ones, that's the other reason I don't consider myself a lesbian. I'm not attracted to them. I guess technically homosexual, but that's like calling it a vagina, or them mammaries.

I like tits, always have, I imagine since I was a baby, and I just never outgrew it. I hung out there mostly because at the time I had the hots for her older sister, but I was just happy to get in their room, play with her bras, and giggle over her vibrator. She had one, her little sister thought it was funny, and while I can't say I never thought about it with a straight face, I never seriously considered their mother.

Because I thought she was out of my league. "Ain't even the same sport!" ~J. Winnfield. While her big sister was big, 28C big, their mother. Well, I never got a chance to check her bra before. However, the whole reason I started hanging out with them in the first place is they're practically nudists. Even out in public, they don't try to hide what God gave them, which would probably be impossible, but I didn't grow up like that.

I was raised conservative, with a heaping helping of shame, and seconds for desert if you happen to be homosexual. I don't really even care about their bras, but I got to see them, check the tags, and the first time she came in from the shower, I was in love. I was already in love, long before she took off the towel, bent over, got out a clean pair of panties, and hung the girls in their hammocks for the night.

She needs support. I hope I'm never so busty, but I don't have to be, with a girlfriend that has them. Right in front of me, staring back at me, just waiting to be touched, and kissed, and rubbed all over my body. I didn't, I just stared, but I got a nice look at her cooter from behind, and the big thick patch of curls up front, when I could tear my eyes away from the ample fruit just whipped out in front of me.

"Who's your friend?" Just like that. I didn't hear the answer, I just made some excuse about having to hold it, and using the bathroom now that she was out of the shower. I did not have to pee. I got off in record time, washed my face, splashed a little cold water down there to freshen up, and went back to hanging out with my friend. She is my friend, a good one, and we became best friends, then a little more.

I told her mom I was a virgin, didn't mention that I am very very gay, and she didn't say anything about that either. I lied, my first time was with her daughter, and her's with me, but the whole time I thought about her big sister. I took advantage of her, not because she was technically a child, or minor, only a year younger than me, but because she's straight, and I never told her, neither.

But in that house, they sure do make it easy. I guess that made me a child molester, and here's a little secret: I get off on that. Wasn't even my last time, I've done younger girls than that, because I can, and it's a power trip. That's why I like straight girls, I can take advantage of them. Make them do things they would never consider, like her mother except saying in her frantic notes, after she made me feel like the luckiest girl alive.

"Oh, come on, aren't you at least a little curious?" I didn't have to use that line. Not in that house, just talk to my friend seriously about how annowing it is trying to sleep with her sister right there, buzzing herself, and moaning. Oh, you poor, poor thing. What I wouldn't give to have that, instead of my own room, and boring modest clothes with slips, and drapes, and parents that look a little ashamed when they kiss each other in front of you.

I know, you guys fuck. Exhibit A: Your daughter. I'm not stupid, you can stop lying to me any time, but until then, I'll keep humoring them with fantasies about getting married some day, and having children. I do not need to have children, of my own, bad idea. If I had a sister like that, I would jump on the bed for the bounce to fly across the room, and dive into her big soft round tits for a soft landing.

But they're straight. So, I just giggled, and let her show me how to use it. When we had the house to ourselves, alone in their room, so she could get it out, and giggle when she turned it on. She liked to suck on it, like a dick to get it wet. I prefer a more direct approach, so "I got an idea." And that's how I got my first taste of pussy. I had some idea, that I was one of those deviants, a lesbo, I just had to do that to prove it.

Yup, 100% gay, it's a shame she was flatter then me. She's got a pussy though, and I got her wet, so she could get it in. And a clit, she likes it when I lick and suck it out. Finger it like I love to, on my own, but I just use my fingers. It's a dick, a toy one, plastic with a motor, but still a dick. Not interested, I'm gay. She took my cherry, though. The only time I had it in me, but I can't very well say "Try it," and not try it. I tried it, nope, I'm gay.

Also, I just like to say that. "I'm gay." Delighted about it, wish I didn't have to lie to straight girls to get them out of their underwear, but it's better this way. I like it, it's a turnon. The lies, I guess it's seductive, saying whatever I have to to get what I want, but the best thing about her is she closed the drapes. Locked the door on an empty house, where topless isn't an option, her mom tans her cunt in the back yard on a regular basis with her fingers, and lotion.

I guess if I have any regret, it's that I never did her sister, I went right up to the Big Leagues.

38 DDs. I checked.

She looks magnificent in a bikini. She looks even better out of it, just leaning back, didn't even look around. Just felt the bottoms, then inside them, then took them off. She shaves. "Oh!" I'm a tits girl, but I like a nice twat as well, and magazines back then were considered "Euro" if they showed bush. I had friends, lots of friends, giggling over their father's stashes, yes straight girls. Here's another secret I don't even know why you people keep: You don't have to be gay to appreciate a nice pair of tits. Especially if you don't have any, and especially if the woman is completely unashamed of having a big beautiful rack.

Mrs. Tress (It's a pun) is completely unashamed of having a big beautiful rack. So, as long as she doesn't mind me looking, I'll keep looking, every chance I got. Wasn't even the first chance I got, I just forgot how loud the gate is when I went in for a closer look. They flopped out. When she untied it, those big triangles of bright blue cloth wrapped around the sides to try and hold them up when she lay back, but as soon as they were free, their weight just dragged them down, and out to flop, and bounce so she had to pick them up, and rub them down with her hands slick with tanning lotion so they shined in the sun, and I just had to go in for a closer look.

Again, I never even thought she'd do me. I heard about her slutting it up with her husband, and any man they could get to let him watch, or plowing her, bent over the tailgate, or in the back seat of a married man's car, but that's like threesomes. Maybe swinging, but very very straight. Always at least 1 dick involved, not really my thing, and here I was a gawky little girl, completely enchanted by her mature naked body. She tied it back on, I got to see how she actually goes about tucking those babies in, and sitting up, reaching, and turning, lining up the sides to get the spaghetti strap under them, and picking them up so they bounced, and jiggled, and rolled, and finally squeezed together. I almost wet myself.

I just don't know how to talk to women. Why I made do with molesting girls, I was young, and unsure, didn't really have much game yet. Like I said, out of my league. However, then she started asking questions. Questions you don't ask a 12 year old girl you just exposed yourself to, about my virginity. Chatted about how I'm "Starting to grow up." So, I relaxed.

"Uh huh?" Takes one to know one. She came onto me. Okay, she said her mother was flirty, and then like a page later she admitted that she turned out like her mother. Yeah, all right, she lied, to herself. About the time she invited me in to see if her daughter was home, I just relaxed, got comfortable, and started taking notes. She seduced me, took advantage of me, and I let her because I hadn't the faintest clue how to go about seducing her. "Okay!" Game on.

She masturbates in front of her children. Since they were children, "Do you play with yourself?" She never asked, either of their daughters that! I never had to, I just did it with the one that was about my age.

"Uh huh!" And thought about her. "Don't tell my folks, they don't know, I know about sex."

"Well, what do you know about sex?" I didn't blush. I looked down, like I was blushing, but she just took it off. Got on the bed, just like that.

"Well, you know." I shrugged, and touched my shoulder with my chin. "Ngh!" I didn't have to fake that. I really was that nervous, and excited. I knew what was going to happen, but I felt like a virgin again. "I have friends, with playboys." We just read the articles, right.

"Oh, well that's not really sex. Sit down." She patted the side of the bed. "Relax." Touched my shoulder, and rubbed it. I just rubbed my thighs together.

"Hh." I couldn't breathe. Or look at her, and keep a straight face, but this was the best lie ever! I knew, she was going to molest me, and it really was such a new experience. I'd never been molested before.

She sighed, so I looked back.

"Oh!" I couldn't help it, I just turned around, and felt one. "Oh! Mh!" On my face, in my hands, both hands. "Smoq, smq!" I smiled, sighed, "And toys." Like her daughters'. "Huh!" I tried to hold both of them. I had to use my arms.

"Oh," she rolled over, "I have those." I know.

Then, I fucked her. I didn't even take off my clothes. She touched me, felt me up through my shirt and training bra. My back. My legs, and crotch through my pants, I didn't even have a pair of shorts. I ate her out too, she was already wet, and greasy, I hated the taste of the tanning lotion, but I didn't care. It still lingered, even after the greasiness went way, but she got her fingers in there, and I couldn't get my tongue deep enough to get past it, but not for lack of trying.

She sucked it, not that she had to get it wet, I tried a finger, then 2, and 3 easily, but then she gave me it and said "Fuck me."

That was it. There was a little resistance, for both of us, but then we just gave up, and did it. I don't like toys, inside me. Fingerbangs, and mouths are fine with me, but I used it in her. I got what I wanted, and didn't even get my panties off until I got home. I didn't want to, I was too busy exploring all the wonderful things about her body, and making her mine.

I'm a top, I suppose. I read about it, had some idea what that was, but I guess I had to fuck her to figure that out. I fucked her, because that's what I wanted to do, but she molested me. She molested the hell out of me, and I loved every minute of that, but I fucked her, because I could. She wanted it, she was literally asking for it, but I found my position. I could grip it, by the big rubbery plastic balls on the bottom with both hands. So I could fuck her, and bury my face in her chest.

"Oh!" She moaned, "Oh yes, huh! Fuck me faster!" I tried, I fucked her as fast as I could without slipping off, but I banged it with my crotch. Through my pants, I never heard of a strapon, this really was quite a while ago, so I had to hang on, but she held them up for me. Squeezed, and shook them in her hands, gasping, and sighing, and telling me to fuck her. "Fuck me, oh fuck me, yes!"

It was the best sex I ever had. I didn't get off, but I got her off. Because I could. Then she caught her breath, and pushed me off. Said she was "Sorry," and started crying! I didn't get off, but when she said that, I almost thought I had. I floated home, I don't even remember anything about the way, I just got there. My head full of all the images, and smells, mostly her lotion, and the taste that still annoyed me, but the way her shaven front felt on my face, my hand, bumping it with my thumbs before I pulled it back out, and fucked it back into her.

Her moans, her calling my name.

And then I got home, and my fingers inside me. I barely touched myself before I exploded with the most powerful orgasm of my entire life. Before or since, I thought I'd pass out, but I didn't. It finally passed, so I could move again, so I fingered myself until I got off again, and again. I was working on #4 when my brother got home, so I had to stop.

Once. I only had her once, then she was nervous around me, and even covered up. Self consciously, like she never was. Crossed her legs, got uncomfortable when I looked at her chest, even left when I came over, but her youngest found out about it. Found what she wrote, looking through her things, and showed it to me. That helped a lot, chalk it up to homophobia, and being afraid of what she really is. A pedophile, girls just on the cusp of puberty, but I was her first.

I fucked her, and she felt guilty about it. I still get off thinking about that to this day.

;

Ms. Sanderson

She showed up, to help me with the party.

"Where did you get that?"

She looked down, smoothed out the ruffles.

"Dress?" She smiled, "The party store."

I read some of that book, she left here. It looked like Romance, but there was a maid in it. "Well," I looked around, "You better come in."

I wouldn't call it romantic, honestly it was pretty trashy, and very erotic. She went right to work, while I went back in the kitchen, but lately I got the feeling that she was flirting with me. Now, I suppose she's just trying to dress the part, but that isn't an actual maid uniform, it's a costume. The Naughty Maid.

She's only 13, and I'm sure she just doesn't know what she's doing. Bending over, it doesn't fit her very well, she's petite, but belted it down with the lacy white apron. Like half a doily, but even so small that it was loose, but still very short. I looked back, but she was bent over, sweeping the Hearth with the tiny spade, and broom. We had a fire last night, and that's what I would call romantic. It was our anniversary, and she took the kids so we could have the house to ourselves.

I didn't think she could clean it up after, we had a wonderful moment, got a little drunk, and made love. Then, when I woke up this morning the fire had died, my husband gone to work, and she was here to help set up with the party.

She bent over, even father, and swept the rest into the ash can. Then straightened up, and tuned around brightly, picking it up. I set down the knife.

"Where can I dump this?"

"In the compost," I pointed out the window, "By the garden."

She got up, on her tippy toes, and looked where my finger was pointing.

I'm sure she doesn't mean anything by it, but I watched the yards. To see if any of the neighbors were out, but nobody saw her.

I read some of that, so I know what she had been reading. "Huh!" Well, now she's here to help, so I left the vegetables, and got it from the bedside. Quite a lot of it, it really helped me get in the mood. The woman, rather well to do, waiting for her husband to come home. While he was away, overseas, I could sympathize, but helped me get in the mood, so I was easily satisfied.

CLANK! She dropped the handle back on the bucket, and dusted off her hands. Picked up the champagne flutes, and carried them into the kitchen.

"What's the occasion?" Clink!

"My husband's going away, on a business trip." Not to give her the wrong idea, "We're celebrating the new contract, you left your book." I gave it to her, to put in her bag, and get it out of my house, before someone else read it.

The heiress wrote that it was years, and she could only wait so long.

"Huh!" she took it, held it up, and looked at me. "You didn't read any of it." She looked down, and blushed.

"A little." Enough, to know that she has a maid.

"Well, I've read it so many times," she held it out, "So you can keep it, if you want to finish it."

Bright smile, it looks innocent, until you know what sort of things she's been reading. I realized that she does, in fact mean something by it, when she winked. "Where should I start?"

She was trying to seduce me. I set it down, on the counter. "The bedroom?" I picked up the knife, and turned back to the cutting board. "It's still a bit of a mess, from last night."

I must admit that I have allowed myself to be seduced by another girl before. While I wouldn't call myself bisexual, I was young, and I fooled around with some of my friends when I was that age. I could sympathize, but I remember the experience fondly. In college, she did identify as bisexual. I had already satisfied that curiosity, but I found that, "Huh!" Lovely? She took me home, and made love to me. Once, but. I saw how she looks at me, shyly, biting her lips, but they're plumped, and her cheeks reddened, I thought it was shame, but it didn't go away.

That feeling doesn't just go away, unless it is satisfied. I know, she's young, but I can remember those feelings, being that young, and I don't just feel a little flattered. I can remember, those feelings now. Fondly, I had forgotten, with the stress of juggling a career, a handful of a daughter still stuck in the terrible twos, and a juvenile delinquent of a son, getting in trouble. Stealing, vandalism, and would that I could trust him to watch her.

To be honest, I needed her, and she is helping out a lot, but I have to be honest with myself. She is very good at what she does, and now she is trying to seduce me. I could find out, how good she is at that. I don't need her for that, but I could. Im already thinking about her, last night.

I thought about her, making love to my husband, and it helped. Him satisfy me, lately he hasn't been going to the trouble as often as I would like, but last night it was easy. I was ready for him, and he helped.

I won't do anything to her. I decided, I just won't stop her. She doesn't appear to be in a hurry, as with everything, she is patient, and methodical with a perfectionist's attention to detail.

I can trust her to do that, why it could take years, and she's not getting any younger, but I know.

I can only wait so long.

;

Leslie (GF Teas Pant Fant)

"Ooh!" Those are new. "Snh!" Oohohohoh! I kinda have to wonder if she got them for him, or he got them for her, but sexy underwear. "Mhhh," Very sexy underwear.

Hand wash only, so I wadded up the bedding, and maybe too a swig from the bottle before I carried it out. Flat, left open all night, but they got drunk. She doesn't have to get me drunk, but.

"You mind if I put on some music?" Quite a collection.

"Go right ahead." Dropped the bundle by the laundry room, while the amp warmed up.

I figured out a trick. You know how girls wear makeup?

Queen - Play the Game (Eponymous)

"Huh!" She went back to chopping veggies. A chef, bye the way. Soux chef, so I'll call her Sue, but rather successful at a popular, and expensive restaurant.

I don't need makeup. I looked in the mirror. In the bathroom, desperately frigging off, and when it burst free, I saw myself. My curls sweaty, and clinging to my head. I don't need blush, lipstick, I just have to think of something sexy enough.

With her around, I barely even need that, but I dropped off her daughter at daycare this morning.

All right, well she had her last night, I had mine. Looking down, my cheeks warmed up, and I took the Woolite back to her bathroom.

I could hear her, still chopping in the kitchen. So, maybe one more. "Snhhhhhhhh! Huh!" I hate to wash them out, but I'm here with a job to do, she pays well, and I can just imagine her wearing them.

For me, modeling them in the bedroom, while I turn down the covers, then laying down, and holding them back for her to join me.

"Huh," so I don't have to think about last night.

I'm not, a naughty maid you know. But last night, I found out I'm a very bad baby sitter.

"Hm?" She switched tracks, or I heard the cassette stop, and the other one start.

Yello - Desire (Stella)

I listened to it.

"Hm!"

Not bad. Sounds like she wants to play too.

"All right."

"I wasn't really in the mood for that." I looked up, in the mirror, smiled over my shoulder, and I'm pretty sure she winked back. Turning away, and going back to the bedroom.

She hung her bra on the towel bar, the one to match these.

36 Ds. I checked.

"Hh," I like this game.

...

Estie' (No, she's not Korean, but yes, she will stand there, watching you work, and eating a banana. "To look even more like an asshole." ~Cinemasins Jeremy. Because this is a competition: Man vs Child.)

"Lesli?" She came out, "Would you give me a hand in here?"

She dried her hands. "What's up?"

"Just help me get the stock pot to the range."

"Okay," from the sink, I got the bones out of the oven, and added them. Then the Mirepoix."

"What's cookin'?"

"Demi Glace'." It takes all day. "Thank you, you want some mocha." I dropped my mitts, and stirred it in the sauce pan. "I think you earned a little break."

It occurs to me, as I got engrossed deeper and deeper into the book, that it's written this way so that there is something for everyone. Well, anyone who would read trashy romance, and get into it, 2 scenes involving the maid already, but like her there's no build-up. That relationship is already established, they work for her, and also satisfies her needs when she starts feeling lonely, and horny.

I don't like her, the horny Heiress. It's all told from her point of view, but she's demanding, insatiable of course, and uses people. Especially her servants, but she has a cook for the house, because of course she does. She has a mansion, the children grew up, and left her for college, and her husband is away at war. An Admiral, of course. With an estate, which she doesn't even lift a finger to maintain. Just orders everyone about, she doesn't even drive. I mean she doesn't even know how to drive, because she grew up a debutante, and always had a chauffeur.

"I work for a living. I consider myself fortunate, that I don't have to, and I can do what I love, but I serve those people, put up with their petty snooty attitudes, and go back to the kitchen to mutter what I had to bite back, because we have 4 stars, and a high enough level of quality that those are who dines there. Why I run the kitchen, so our Maitre d' and Steward have to deal with them. I'm much more comfortable dealing with the deliveries, and the cook staff, because they're at best blue collar.

We hire cons. Felons, if some of our customers actually saw say our line-cooks, we would have to close down. Bikers, lesbians, that's why they have to come in the back, because of their tattoos, nose rings, beards, pony tails, and mohawks. Incidentally, the pony tail is a greasy Samoan man, and the mohawk a punk rock lesbian. I've seen how the other half lives, the so-called "Better half," and I don't like it. They're not people. They're trust funds, with nice clothes, haircuts that cost more that their entire meal ticket, and makeup.

Puppets, of wealth. I work with real people, with real personalities, that wear them like badges. The punk rock girl, an extremely good sautee', and saucier, has Dyke across the knuckles of one hand, and Slut across the other. And when one of them invariably demands to speak with the chef, I say "Yes, of course," and send him out to get rid of them. My head line cook is also a very good bouncer.

However, there is work, and then there is passion. I knew a carpenter once, we had to redo our bathroom, because the floor started rotting out, and I took him home once. He invited me in, we had a few drinks, and my husband sleeps around. Too. We have an understanding, I don't want to know about his mistresses, and he doesn't want to know about mine, so nobody gets jealous.

What struck me about his place was the terrible disrepair. I asked him about it because of genuine curiosity, "Well," he said, "It's work. I go to someone's house, like your's, I fix it up, and then you pay me. When I get home, I'm off work. Yeah," he shrugged, "I could fix this place up, but then I have to pay for it too? No, I have a wife, and kids, to spend my money on."

That's the difference between us. I just did a weekend, Friday night wine and dine, Saturday night, then a quick nap between close, and open for Sunday Brunch, which incidentally made more than the other 2 combined. I had to put off our anniversary, because it's a service industry, we work when the 9-5 Monday through Friday crowd is off, and tomorrow I have to go in early for the deliveries, and inventory, today is my day off, and I'm doing the Chateaubriand. The full Chateaubriand, because it's his favorite, and I'm serving the expected 25 guests.

I love it, this is what I love. To cook, I am at home in the kitchen, I don't have any hobbies, and there is no other way I would rather spend my day off."

"What's a Steward?" She finished her Mocha, and nodded throughout the tirade. It helped, to just let it all out, but she asked me why I cook.

"Like a Butler, but at a hotel, or Restaurant."

"Oh," she washed her cup, and left it in the drainer to go back to work. Well, she asked.

"Huh!" I checked the veal stock, and went back to my marked place. Before she really gets into it with the cook, in the kitchen, no doubt with all the sausages suggestively hanging in the pantry, and vegetables. Which reminds me, I should start slicing the root vegetables for the Grautin, later.

Lick my finger, and turn the page. Well, I can't say that I haven't used the stock room, nor the walkin, nor the wine cellar to take a break. That sautee'/saucier, in particular. She really knows her way around a woman's body. This woman's body, but that Heiress. I know far too women like that. Fuck them.

Literally, it's starting to heat up. I took another sip of my Mocha.

...

Happy Break (f Solo Fant Flashbacks)

I took the mop bucket in the bathroom, and the tape deck. She let me finish the song, so it started on Dragon Attack. All right, it's a pretty good base-line, and then it's Another one Bites the Dust, so I cranked it.

Whatever she's doing in there, I hope she doesn't check her underwear drawer.

HMMMMMMMMM!

"NH!"

First of all, I'm still learning. She's the Big Leagues, and I'm trying out. She has a position to fill, and "Uh! Huh!"

She said "Lesbian," but the way she said it. Also, Slut, and Dyke, but I can take a hint. Her eyes said it, that's what she wants. Like "Mistress," she's a romantic, and I'm getting to know her. "Huh!" I guess the book skipped past this part, the maid already worked there, and the Chauffeur, Butler, Cook. "Huh!"

Private chef, I saw where she marked her place. Not my favorite scene, but is she up to the kitchen yet? She'll get there, I don't know what a Chateau, whatever is. Or how to spell it, French, I'm sure it's got all those apostrophes and such, a bunch of silent letters on the end, but it's like what she said, and what she doesn't say. Out loud, watch her eyes.

They smiled, when she said "Lesbians," and Mistresses, then frowned when she said "Husband."

"He doesn't want to know about my mistresses."

So, she doesn't say I am a lesbian, or bisexual, she doesn't have to, you just have to read between the lines.

MmwownMwownmwownmwroun!

"Nhuh!"

Good beat, too. For grinding, I don't like fucking, but humping. Well, I don't like to be fucked. Inside, I'm just fine with this, and my new underwear.

She looked. Away, when I turned back, looked over my shoulder, playing cinderella, to pick up the ash bucket. I suppose that's why it's shaped like a D, flat on one side.

"Huh!"

36 D.

"Yeah." Nice.

"Low Down,"

"She don't take no prisoners!"

"Go Down,"

"Gonna give me the business!"

"No time,"

"Yeah chained to the rack!"

"Show time,"

"Got a Dragon on my back!"

"Show down,"

"Go find another customer!"

"Slow down,"

"I gotta make my waaaaayy!"

"AUOOH!"

Hold my breath through the guitar solo, jam, part, but too quiet to really moan.

"SNHHHH!"

Just let it out, cradling it in my hands, on the bathmat, turn and rest my head on the toilet seat.

"Hhhhn! Snhhh!" Snod, shake my head, and delight in the way the feeling just swirls around in there.

Try not to think about something. Yeah, go ahead, I dare you. I thought, I could think about Her, just Her, but I couldn't help remembering. Thinking that I know how her daughter is going to look, when she grows up. Or conversely how she looked, when she was that young.

Potty training.

"Nh nh nh nh nhm!"

Another one Bites the Dust

...

Estella Sanderson (F Mono Daut Nepi Hyme NC NS.)

The daycare called. I had to wait for her to get done with the bathroom floor. Finally I knocked, so she opened the door to a cloud of bleach and cleaner scent.

"What's up?"

"Something came up, so can you watch the sauce while I run out real quick?"

"Sure."

I showed her, "See that line?" Dipped out a pitcher and poured it in.

"Like a bathtub ring." She nodded.

"Yeah, when it reduces down to there, give it a good stir." I demonstrated, "And another pitcher of stock." Handed her the wooden spoon, so it didn't scrape up the bottom, nor scorch ruining the whole batch. Too late to get more Veal bones, roast them, and start over from scratch, I ran to the nursery, and grabbed a change of clothes.

She had an accident, but while they were cleaning her up, they found that she was bleeding. Over they assured me that it happens, and not to worry.

"How could you let it happen?"

"It was probably just from play, not all girls remain completely intact until their wedding night, but she just came in from the playground. It might have happened on the teeter totter, or she may have fell on the playground. She's not hurt, but she may be a little tender, and the damage may be a little tender for a few days. Also, try to keep urine out of there, so she'll have to be extra careful on the potty, and at night. Just so you're not surprise if she wets, and it stings a little."

;

Def Leopard - Rocket (Hysteria)

Nice stereo, so I cranked it. To hear over the Kirby,  dance around with it, and the chord.

Checked her place, she made it past the kitchen scene, and dog-eared it. I assume to read it again, but she also had a bookmark in the open cookbook on the counter.

[The Classic French Sauces]

She's a professional chef, but she needs a recipe for this.

"Swoo!" I whistled. Stirred, and topped it off, flipped back to the Chateaubriand. Demi Glace', sounded like "Glasse'," the way she said it, but that's one ingredient, for the sauce, for the Entree. She had a handwritten list, of the other 4 courses, and several different Hors d'oeuvre on the back. In case I was thinking she was doing nothing all day, and it's her day off.

But, I got it, takes a few minutes for it to simmer back down for another stir, and pitcher. So, I moved the coffee table, and got the rug in the living room.

It's not like I want to be the naughty maid. I'd much rather be rewarded for good work than punished for fucking up. getting caught, "Borrowing" her toy, playing in her underwear, and sniffing a dirty pair. So, don't get caught, I have a big list, and it's not like it takes constant supervision.

Shut down the vaccuum, and go check the sauce. Give it a stir anyway, but i have enough time to take off the brush, and hook up the hose attachment. Then run back, close enough to top it off, another stir, and head back to get the couch. Then the chairs, check it again...

And fantasize, it doesn't take my full attention either. I can suck off the Bargello flame wave cloth on automatic, and get warmed up for when she gets back. Since I satisfied myself, and, "Huh!"

Yeah, so good maid. "Good job," pat my back, "You earned a break." Bent over, to scrub the floor. The kitchen floor, hardwood instead of the tile in the bathroom, so not so hard on my knees, but so my skirt fluffs up, and she can see my white satin underpants peek out through the black nylon stretched over them.

"Hm!" Go check the sauce, it's fine. Steamy, of course. 2 pots boiling, or she called it a "Saucepan." For the stock, a bigger one than the Mocha we had earlier, she shared with me, talking about dealing with the White Collar, and the Blue Collar.

Mine's white, of course. Frilly, lacy, like the little apron, I didn't put my hair up, or wear the little hat, but you get the idea. I like the Housekeeping Uniform more, for comfort, but I got to love how this looks on me, and she sure appreciates it.

I suppose i can sympathize, my dad deals with them too, but maybe she got the kitchen done at the same time, or at least the same supplier for the counter-tops. Granite, pretty sure. My pop would kick my ass if I mistook marble for granite.

So, she's kind of in between, she' isn't rich, but certainly not poor. She could really use a better worker, at least judging by the reveals between the bathroom tiles. Shoddy, my dad would take one look at that and laugh.

Another pitcher, and give it a stir. "Huh! I work, and I slave over a hot stove, and this is the thanks I get?" o7 "Hihihnm!"

She's lucky, not because she landed a good man, but she loves it. Cooking, I don't. it's a lot of work, I sure was surprised, but compared to say cleaning her house. "Huh!" I know how to cook, but not like. Well, my mom's English. American, but she takes tea, and taught me to cook. You know, boil liver, and kidneys with potatoes, and. Some sort of, green vegetables. I guess, green beans aren't too bad, but spinach turns to slime, and here she's doing The Chateaubriand. Like The Glenlivet, I guess.

She has a bar. Scotch? No, Canadian Rye, Bourbon, here's a peaty smelling single malt, and "Ooh!" Bushmills! In the back, I could really use a shot.

What? Cannon, usetabe Buchannan I'm Irish. Well, half Irish, and half "Mixed British Isles." Including the little green one, so mostly Irish, it's medicine back there. I'm a teenager, and they use it for Teething pains. Rubbed it on my gums, it's just a shot. "Khah!" Slap the glass down, and "Whoo!" Better. "Goes down Smooth!" Shake my head, and giggle. Check the sauce, but it's fine, so get back to the cushions, and my cheeks feel bright enough, but she should be home now, so where was I?

Love Bites, so. Where was I? Right, bent over, on my knees, I'll definitely have to detail that kitchen when she's done with it, but she just read that scene, so yeah.

The pantry, carrots. Just to start, stir it in, until she starts to simmer, work up a good sauce, then. What, cucumbers? I think that's what they did next. Working up to the massive Salami hanging in the bag. Sausage, I suspect it's written by guys. I don't know about all of it, but 1: It's labeled "Romance," but sex, sex, sex, with a side of sex, and an orgy for desert. And B: Half of the scenes are "Lesbian," but every single one is full of dick. His dick, fake dick, the massive cured sausage warming up, and softening from the hard thrusts into her tight derrierre until the corpuscles of fat melted and squeezed out to leave her glistening as it slipped back out.

"Um," Blink, and shake my head. It's probably time to check on the sauce again.

Pour some Sugar on Me!

;

Mistress (NS)

"LESLIE!" I might have well have whispered, walked across to the stereo.

"Squeeze Me Macaroni!"

"UH!" She got under the couch.

"Slop Your Face With My..."

I just turned it off, let the tubes cool down.

"Hih, hih, hihn!"

She turned off the Kirby. "Oh." Turned back. Not unlike she did, bent over the hearth, to see if I was watching her. Bend over the hearth like the French Maid in the background of the cover of Mistress, and Servants. "Uh!" If she's trying to seduce me, that doesn't help.

Sounded like a chicken being beaten to death with a Saxophone! "What was that!?" Am I still yelling? Pump my jaw.

"Mr. Bungle." She shook her head, "Sorry, are you all right?"

"Fine?" I went to check the demi. Swirled a tasting spoon, "Wh, siph!" Turned it down, and the burner under the stock off.

"Can you give me a hand with this?"

I grabbed a couple towels, and slipped them through the handles, twisting them, "Just get that side." Checked the sink, the Strainer and the tub still ready. "Ready?" Picked up a mitt, and hung it in my teeth to slip it on. "One, two, three. Nh!"

About 3 gallons of Demi Gasse, but I'll have to chill it while I start prepping the Chateaubriand sauce. "Nh, jst, hld it." Got the mit under the hot bottom, and carefully poured.

Looked over, but she moved her arms in, to match mine, while we carefully strained out the bones, and vegetables.

"Hhhh! Take it out back."

"Kay," she took the other towel, and just held it up.

She's 13, I remind myself. She used both hands, but I had to notice, her biceps. She has them, and she poured like a seasoned prep-cook/saucier! I grabbed the brush, a fresh full sheet green scrubby, and pointed. "The spigot, over there."

"So, I'm scrubbing it out."

"Yes." Handed them over, and went in. A little behind, but ready for some prep-therapy. I need this, even I don't know why, but ride me all night, and put me up wet. In the morning, give me a cutting board, and a bushel of bell peppers. By the time I've Julienned them all for Mise en Place, I'll be right as rain. Not that I held any special significance on my daughter's virginity, but she's not even turned 2, and I had hoped for something better than a teeter-totter. Apparently, it happens. Perhaps not all the time, but damn the luck, and why today of all times?

I got to work on the Shallots, started tempering the butter, and looked up as the patio door slid shut.

"Let me see?" I blinked. "That was fast."

"You ever scrubbed out a mortar pan?" I shook my head, she held up her hands, roughed out the dimensions.

"What's that for?"

"Mortar. Masonry? My pop's a stonemason."

"Oh," I nodded, looked down, started on the mushrooms. TAptptptptpt! Rolled another one over, curled my fingertips under, and propped it on the stem. Taptptptptptp!

"He's an artist, like you. Who'd you get to do the floor in the bathroom?"

I looked back, "Oh," Taptptptptpt. "I'm not an artist."

"Do you even have to think about that?" She pointed. I looked down, at the cap I was holding, by the stem.

"I suppose you're right." There is an art to cooking, "I just never thought about it that way." Tapped the tip to about halfway through, and scooped them up to drop in with the shallots.

"Put that back?"

The stock-pot, "Oh, you can go back to work," I headded for the basement, "I'll clean it up in a minute." Muttering to myself. I don't have a wine cellar. I have wine, and a basement. Best place to store it, I looked over the selection.

I came back up to find music playing, at a reasonable level, and something a little more soothing.

Depeche Mode - World in My Eyes (Violator.) I looked back to see her drop the lid on the phonograph. Without the amplifier, clear across the kitchen, dining room, and living room. I nodded to her.

"You have a great collection."

"Thanks." I had to watch the sautee, to keep the butter from browning, but popped the cork, and gently deglased. Went to the sink, to check the demi, but with the unplanned trip, "Can you break out some more ice?" Pulled another spoon out of the drawer, and "Siph!" I tasted it, all ready, it's good, and so full of protein, it practically clots like gore if you do it right. Should chill it overnight in the cooler, but i didn't bring the walk-in with me, and it won't go in my freezer, "Just spread it around the tub."

"You want to teach me to cook?"

"Well," I shook my head.

"Not today,' she giggled, "Just, you know. I know how to cook, but my mom's not like you!"

"You mentioned your father's a Mason?"

She nodded, leaned back against the counter. In the corner.

The track skipped to The Sweetest perfection. I smiled to myself. Nodded.

"Freestone, but he does block, tile, where'd you get this slab?" She stroked the countertop. "I could ask my husband, when he gets home." She frowned, I smiled. What were you saying about the bathroom floor?"

"Shoddy fit, looks like they just slapped it down. The grout lines are uneven, which is why it's cut diagonal under the tub. Nice tub, by the way."

"You're welcome to stay for the party, if you like."

"You mind," she leaned over the tub, "If I taste this?" I just reached back, and handed her a spoon, before she dipped her pinky in it. Pet peeve, if I see one of my cooks do that, you want a chef's spoon across the back of your hand?

"Mh!" Good coat, it's starting to set nicely. "Oh," she swept a curl out of her eyes, and I slapped my head, "Edward, Cannon?"

"You know him?"

"He stopped by, gave us an estimate."

"You went cheap, instead." She nodded.

"Like I said, my husband handled the renovations."

"Where you from?"

"New England." I thought back, "So, you consider Masonry an Art?"

"Huh!" she rolled her eyes, "Anyone can lay block, or set tile. My father is passionate about it, like your cooking." She pointed.

"Snh!" I ran to the stove. "Shit!" I must have gotten distracted, had to throw that out, scorched. I went back to the sink, and scrubbed it out in the open bowl.

"I can do that."

"I know, huh! I clean as i go, force of habit." Turned off the water.

"I guess you'd have to watch him, freehand block, to see it. It's like watching you cook. Huh!" She sighed, and rolled up her eyes, smiling. "I don't know what i want to do with my life."

"Well, you're so young."

"When did you start cooking?"

"Well," I thought, "I don't remember."

"You always loved it." I nodded.

"That," she headded back to the living room, "Passion is why I love artists."

I kicked myself for burning the sauce. It was just mushrooms, shallots, butter, and a splash of wine, but I am a perfectionist as well. I suppose I could have had the party catered, and probably should have. I'm saving money having her help get ready for the preparations, but I looked back.

"Oh, push that back, against the wall." bent down to hose under the sofa.

"You got it," she turned back to take off the attachment, and screw the nose back on. Or started to.

She's a perfectionist, too. I love that about her.

Waiting for the Night...

;

"Saffron," (fG Teen Saph Con/Rape Flashback. TW.)

"Take her home, so she can change."

"Uh!" I looked up, and my mouth hung open.

"Come on," she held up her hand. She's a Lesbian. My first clue was the letters D, Y, K, and E across the knuckles of her hand, but I was looking at her curry colored mohawk, pulled down on the side to hang over one eye. She got in an electric blue Geo Storm, hatchback. I was terrified.

She sneered, mean girl. I'm in Jr High, I'll be a freshman next year, I'd seen her around, tried to avoid her, but never in work clothes. The double breasted grey Chef's coat, checked pants, she even wore the clogs.

"So," she drove off, "You're the little girl that's been crushing on Chef Sanderson all day." If she's trying to make me cry. I covered it with anger.

"So, you're the dyke that's been banging her in the stockroom." What? She wears it like a badge!

"Oh good, it speaks!" I sulked. "Now, don't get jealous. I'm not her mistress, we just take out some frustration in eachother sometimes. It's hard work, and yes. We used the stock room, the walkin, the wine cellar."

"What kind of name is Saffron?"

"Like the second gayest name ever, Lesli. Call me Saffy. My folks were hippies."

"Were?"

"Well, they went through a Buddhist phase in the 70s." She rolled her eyes.

"That the reason for your hair?"

"Well," she pulled it out with her fingers, "Tumeric, Saffron's a bit too expensive." She nodded, "Where do you live?" I told her. "Right," she shifted down, dumped the clutch, and I held onto the doorhandle. "You have to understand, her husband wants her adult lovers to be discrete. In case you're wondering about why you have to change, she can't be seen with a little girl in a Halloween costume."

"I'm not a little girl."

"Ha, no? Then for appearances, if you want to attend her Husband's party, you're going to have to put on something more appropriate."

"Yeah?" Well, it didn't work, anyway.

"Your folks home?"

"Should be, why?" Dashboard clock.

"Because I'm horny, and my usual stress reliever was busy with you all day." Just like that. I just met her, she's.

"You're not my type, and how old are you?"

"Nineteen? Look, I need a grudge fuck, you need a grudge fuck. I can tell, and we can't have you making googoo eyes at the missus all night in front of her husband, and all his friends. You really into the whole naughty maid thing?"

"No, I. I thought she might like it."

"Well, it is kind of cute," she ruffled my skirt, but didn't touch me. Grabbed the shifter, and kicked the clutch. Punched it up another gear.

"Yeah?" All right. Maybe.

"Didn't work?" She shook her head, "You have to understand, chef's a romantic, but. She has needs, and this is about Him. Sending him off, I'm sure you'll get your shot, but today's not the day. She's been planning this for months, and she's not going to let me, or you fuck it up."

"You're jealous." Too.

"No," she winked, "I just hate men."

"Why?"

"I need a reason? I'm a dyke, and men are assholes."

"Well,"

"If you say they're not all like that, I'll staple a trilby on your head. Look, I'm an Organic dyke. You know what that is?"

I shook my head, "Like dying your hair with Tumeric." Organic Food wasn't a thing yet, #NotAllMen wasn't a thing yet, we didn't have a name for Neckbeards, but they were totally a thing already. And the cliche' manhating dyke.

"Yeah, I guess?" She shrugged, "No toys, no greasy synthetic lube, just us girls. You think you can handle that?"

"Well," we haven't really agreed to sex, but. She said Grudgefuck. I'm starting to realize that what I hate about dykes is she's too much like a man, without the dick. "When you put it like that." I hate her. "Fine, fuck it." I pointed, "Pull over there."

I'm not going to say where. I know a place, lots of places around the neighborhood, I have lots of friends, and honestly, they don't know what they're doing. "I never been with a lesbian before."

She just came around, and opened the door. "Get back there," flipped up the seat, and grabbed the back of my neck.

"Uh!" Bent over the back seat, she ripped the back of my pantie hose, and I felt her fingers. Slip up the back of my head, through my hair, and her hands feeling my thighs. My nylons, and pinching them. CRkt KUT!

"Uh!"

"Horny little piece of ass, getting all hot, and wet for the missus, all day."

"Nh!" I twisted my head out, this was starting to feel like rape.

Why did I have to go and think of that?

She screamed.

"UHN!" Her blunt, dirty nailess fingers, pushing the satin in. "NH!"

"Try to struggle a little, babydoll."

"NUH! No."

"Make it a little interesting."

I touched her, but when I felt it.

Krch, cukt!

"Huh!" I relaxed, "Yeah." I deserve this. "Do it." She had to tear it away. From my hips, and the seams popped. Snapped painfully like a balloon bursting.

I felt her cherry. I shouldn't even have touched her, but then I raped her. I raped a little girl.

To pull my panties down. She didn't spank me, or even lick me. "PTOOHW!"

"Un, nhhn!" She just, shoved it in. "NUHN!"

I didn't feel it pop. Isn't it supposed to pop? When she stuck the vibrator in, it was slower, more gentle. Tight, but I didn't feel a pop.

"Virgin." Her rough greasy fingers, on my pubes, gripping.

"Ngah!"

I didn't feel it pop.

"There."

"AHH!"

Even the baby. She was practically a baby. I felt it, but I wanted to. Feel it pop, but it didn't pop.

"Hh!" I cried, it hurt, but. She wiggled it. In deeper, really working with her fingers. "Hihn!" I bit my lip. "Hihn!" Her thumb, that had to be her thumb inside me. I deserve this, I raped her, but now I was starting to enjoy it.

"Uhn!" There, it popped. Back out, "Get on the seat."

I crawled back, my legs up, and felt under my skirt. The nylons got in the way, so I had to rip them in front. "Gh!" I closed my eyes. Khkhkh! "Hihn!" Yeah, I think there ugly, pantyhose. I kind of like how they look smooth, but feel rough, and the way the cotton covers up my panties. They feel good, but look like shit. When she ripped them, though. "Huh!" Now I get it.

I felt it, I'm raw, and sure enough her thumb is even a little bloody, but she unbuttoned her chef's coat. "Huh!"

She's fat. Never trust a skinny chef, and she doesn't wear a bra. Saggy, and baggy, finally she grabbed my head again, and shoved it in her chest. "HM!" I just closed my eyes.

So, this is what it felt like. I never even wondered, what it felt like for her. I ate her first, the little baby, washed the pee out, wiped it with toilet paper, then a washcloth, then my fingers, my tongue, and then I felt it. Her cherry, it was labeled an annular hymen in the books, but I broke it, and she cried.

"INH!" Her rough blunt fingers, groping my crotch. Feeling it, finding the flap of skin in top, and pinching it. "MH!" The whole thing, my bloody cunt, my clit in there, and the skin slipping around it, but that's how she did it. I never thought of that. Pinching it, and pulling up and down so it slipped in my fingers, my lips, the hood, but that's how she got me off.

"Huhn hihn neah, YEAH!" I fell back, but she just let go. Brushed it with her fingertips. "Hhhh!" I don't deserve this. "Hhhhhhh!" It was brutal, I raped a baby, by far the worst thing I ever done. I wanted to die, but she got me off insdead, and her fingers. Her gentle fingers. She molested me. Raped me first, I didn't know it would be like this, but it was perfect. I drooled. "Hhhhh!"

"You think you can do that?"

So, that's how a lesbian fucks.

Maybe I am a lesbian?

"I can try."

;

Saffy (fG Talk)

No surprise when I had to take it in my own hands. I caught my breath, and took her home. Waited in the car while she ran up, and got out to smoke it off. Squeezed out some butts into my pipe, and puffed it, wandered around the little yard.

"Huh!" They got a pool? Okay, they're poor. Probably the only pool in the whole neighborhood, but I kicked off my clogs, dropped my pants, and washed up, squatting beside it. A tiny one, but like cobblestone, and it took up the whole yard. "Huh!" Cooled me off, though, got the stink out.

I'm not Punk. We're gutter sluts, see the tattoos? There's probably some in every city, but the difference is Punk is a subculture, for kids looking for an identity, trust crusties, and that hot little tyke dyke? Well, she's actually pretty cool.

Saw her around, mostly hanging with older girls, high schoolers, fashionista prostitots, and looking at them. It's not gadar, watch their eyes. Ever seen a guy check out girls, when they're not looking of course, but that's why she hung out with high school girls. To perv on them, but you know how cool you have to be for them to hang out with a middleschooler? Yeah, that cool, and if Chef saw anything, anything at all in her, showing up in a naughty maid costume, she's definitely worth checking out. A closer look, that's why I agreed to pull overtime, and babysit after I dropped off the hotel pans, and trays of apps.

My boss, basically scraped me off the streets, and I don't love her. I don't do love, it's a lie to enslave women I just don't have the time, and money for, but you know what? Camping out, trying not to get raped, and dumpster diving for food sucks. I have a car now, a shower, and a bed I don't have to roll up so it doesn't get stolen when I hike back into town.

Chef Sanderson's one of those denial chicks. "Oh, we're not wealthy." You ever seen her stereo? Her kitchen? Vintage retro tube-amp and phonograph. A fucking hipster, and a pretty damned good lay. So, she was slumming, spotted me, and you have to crawl out of the gutter every once in a while or die there. I didn't want to die there, and did I mention she's great in bed?

Lesli changed quick, not too much, but the room service uniform suited her better than that black and white puff of lace, and ruffles.

"Got a lite?" She stole some cigarettes.

"Got another fag?"

"Nihin!" Annoying giggles, though. I don't know why, but pissing me off turns me on, and she's great at it. She handed me the other one. Bumbing off the kids, but I'm a bum, get it? I have cigarettes, but it's about the principle. Nothing is free, kid. Nothing.

She started talking, I rolled my eyes. Are we friends now? Besties? How's my makeup?

"Well, I wasn't a total virgin."

"Who you been with?" I know as well as the next girl that little chunk of flesh is meaningless. She got off on it, shrugged.

"You know Marlee Jacobs?" I shook my head. "Old housewife. Well, middle age, I guess. I fucked her, and her daughter."

"Yeah?" So, brag. it's just sex, but when they're that young.

"I think I am a lesbian."

"Uh!" Jesus! "Do you think in cliche's?"

"What?"

"No, I mean. Huh! I don't know, maybe you can explain it, since you're so old and wise." Smart little mouth on her, shame she has no idea what to do with it. "I fucked her. I fucked Her. I didn't, well she molested me, but, I didn't get off on that."

"You got off on fucking her?'

"With her dildo. Not her daughter, she had a vibe, and I used that too, but. I don't know. Okay? I'm still new to all this, but that always bothered me."

"Fucked her how?"

"Well?" Half shrug, "Kind of like a man."

"How so?"

"Well, you know. I know you're a dyke and all, but."

"I'm bisexual." I shook my head.

"Really?" She looked at my hand.

"Well, I don't care really. You love your dad." I could tell, watching through the window while I took my cat-bath. She nodded, "So, like that. I don't hate every single man. I hate plenty of women too, but it's the System that pushes us down. Not the individual. For one thing, individuality is one of the top things on their list. Conform, Obey, men run that, and women get the shaft.'

She giggled, "Literally."

"Right, but just because I hate that, doesn't mean you can't fuck them. Fuck men!" I laughed, "And there's exceptions. I'm sure your dad is a great guy, and I've met a few. Every once in a while, but that whole, gay/straight thing is about conforming. Either you're normal, or there's something wrong with you. That's what Lesbian means, guys are jealous, but."

"Where we going?"

"I need to stop by my place, get a shower, and maybe another fuck."

"I don't know if I can do that again."

"Like you did it before. Huh! I like you, you're cool, I can tell, but here's the big truth they don't never want you to even suspect. It's just sex." I shrugged, "No big deal. I know, they sell it like the be all, and end all, but it's just sex. I don't like rubbers, and I can't afford a baby." I'm not even going to get started on Herpes, " So, if I had a choice, I'd rather fuck a girl, but don't get too caught up, in all that. It's really not worth it, and it can wreck your life."

"That what happened to you?"

"Kind of? I ran away/got kicked out. I had to, when dad found out. You're lucky to have a father like that, you know?"

"Well, my mom is like that. I mean, if she'd seen me with you, and that." She pointed, "She would have called the cops."

"Yeah, well my dad just kicked my ass."

"And you got raped." I winced.

"I lived on the streets for the past 10 years," do the math there, "So yeah, I got raped."

"Huh! You just raped me. You know that?" I looked over, but she just frowned, nodded. "It's okay, I got off on it, and probably deserved it, but. Huh! You mind if I tell you something?"

"Shoot." Almost there.

"I did it too."

"What?"

"Raped a child." Now she was crying.

"Well, I didn't rape you," and I don't like where this conversation is going.

"She was so young, and little, and weak!" Really breaking down.

"Ah fuck!" I pulled up, cut the motor, and pulled the handbreak. "Come on, better get you inside."

"Snh!" I patted her back, unlocked the door, and hung it on the loop. A padlock, helped her up the stairs, but she was really balling now, I practically had to carry her up there.

"I'm sorry," I sat down, "But I didn't rape you. Sure, it was a little rough, but that's just how I have sex."

"Snh!' She looked up. "It's okay, huh! I wanted it. That's why I said do it."

Yeah, which is consent! Why I didn't rape her, she consented.

"Huh! I wanted you to rape me, because all a sudden I felt guilty."

"How young, we talking about here?" She just turned, and bawled in my chef's coat. I really suck at this, and I really need that shower, now.

"Four."

"Oh." Well, that is rape then.

;

Tyke

"Huh!" The second time wasn't so rough, but that was just a quicky. She was right, I needed it, and talking about it was like a weight off my shoulders.

Do I think in cliches?

"Huh!" She hugged me, and started snoring. She said "Show me," so I talked her through what I did to her, and that helped a lot too. I had no idea, I could do that. I guess it's like all the secrets men keep, so we don't enjoy sex, we just do it so they can get off. The cherry is this special precious thing, the One Ring we have to save for them, and it has to hurt the first time.

It did, but it didn't have to. I didn't break it, with my fingers. My first girlfriend didn't with her sister's vibe, and Safy didn't have to with her thumb. It's not what they told you. It's just a little bit of extra skin. Like the foreskin, they don't have to cut that off either, but they do to keep boys from jerking off. I'm serious, that's what it's all about, you think God made Man in his own image, and just left that little extra bit so they're not too perfect?

Well, he didn't, and he didn't leave a little extra in girls so you know whether or not you got there first. It's not a dipstick, dipstick. You don't have to check our oil, or wipe it with a rag when you're done, it's.

Just.

Sex.

"Huh!"

"Well, she's potty training, so. I had to hold her. Over the toilet, and she peed. I touched her, told her "You have to wipe." Then, I dried her with some toilet paper, then I washed her with a washcloth, then she was wet, so I touched her." I was still a little sore.

She doesn't have a toilet. She has a bucket, she lives in an attic, and has a shower rigged under the stairs. It used to be a washer/ drier hookup, then she hung up some vis-queen, and a hose to make it a shower.

It's better than the gutter. I never thought I was lucky, that I was spoiled, but compared to her.

Corrective rape. He didn't catch her with her boyfriend, or his girlfriend, having sex. He found her pictures. Childporn, she was molested, and the bastard took polaroids of her with his daughter. Then her father found her stash, and when she came home, he raped her to make her straight.

"So, I ran away."

I don't have any excuse like that. I was pampered compared to her, and yet I still raped a little girl. A baby, because she was a virgin, and as soon as I felt that, I just wanted to feel it pop.

"Then she started screaming, and that made me mad, so I raped her." I covered her mouth, and I raped her. As hard as I could, I didn't even get off on it. "Snh!"

I know, corrective rape is another myth. Like you can rape a lesbian straight. Fix a child molester in prison, or anyone deserves that. I lied to myself, but there's always exceptions. She had to rape me, to show me what my victim felt.

I needed that. I consented because I thought I deserved it, but she had to rape me to open my eyes. I don't know what I would have become if she hadn't, probably would have kept doing that. Kept babysitting, to find more girls, more virgins to pop their cherries, but I couldn't accept the truth because of that lie.

It's just a piece of flesh. I guess that's why I did it, the rape culture, virgin fetish, sexualization of every girl, the clothes, homophobia, all that came to a head until I finally deflowered the first virgin I got my hands on, but that's no excuse.

There is no excuse, not for that. I'm not making excuses, but now I can relax. I understand it, and I can sleep. This filthy old mattress, the cold attic with a plastic sheet over the slots between boards on the window puffing out with every gust, and sleeping bag for a blanket smells like wood smoke, and full of holes from cigarette burns.

But she's warm, and I feel safe. I finally know myself, a little better, and I can stop worrying about that. I can change, I can finally work on my problems because I know what they are now, and that's the first step. I'm not a lesbian, nor even a pedophile, I'm a rapist, but I don't have to be. Not any more than I have to attend the party, hang out with those hipsters, and listen to smooth jazz while she slices the center-cut fillet mignon, and serves it with a dollop of sauce and a side of root vegetable au gratin with a smear of puree.

"Huh!"

I needed to do this, this is more important, and I have to work tomorrow. Clean up after the party, and get payed more for a day's work than Sffron makes in a week while she helps her unload the deliveries in the morning.

But I can dream.

"Can you help me with this?" Standing in her underwear. Her bra, and panties. Garter belt, and stalkings, holding up a little black dress so tight she needs help stuffing herself into it.

After all that work, my reward was helping her get dressed, and feel her up. Before her husband got home, for the dinner party.

You know what? They're fake. Saline, balloons of salt water, implants. Of course they are. Wedding present, for him. He bought them for him.

I still have so much to learn...

;

Gutterslut (FG Cons.)

"Huh!" I had to get her naked to find out why she wears a bra. She's flat, she has tits, but they're flat, for someone so young. I mean like pancake, she needs the support, because she has nothing but loose skin. Not that I can complain, it's just weird to see on a teen. She's young, very young, I've got a few more months before I turn 20, and she just started, but the rest of her. It shows, I can feel it, her skin still has that smooth poreless perfection of a child, she's got a little patch of pubes, that you can barely see because they're fine, and blond, and don't even curl as much as her hair,
she's really like a little girl.

With flapjack tits. She was a fat girl, lost weight, I bet to hang out with the high schoolgirls. That's it right there, you know what's a petty problem, when a fat girl has to starve herself to fit in, and hide that she's a lesbian, so she can look up teener skirts, and bump their bras. She gave up her tits, to see older girls int there underwear?

I just don't know how to feel about what she told me. Here I am, a 19 year old with a 13 year old, if she didn't lie about that too, but she finally told the truth. She raped a little girl. A very little girl, a 4 year old, I can't even imagine. It's triggering, but that's her, she was more traumatized by that then me raping her. I didn't know, all right? She told me to do it, I didn't know she ment rape her, and I feel bad about that, but she just said it.

"You raped me." Then she cried because she raped a toddler.

She's weird. So, we had a good cry, she played it out, and that was kind of fun. Molesting her like she molested her, and she really needs to work on her oral skills, but it's piss. It's just piss, at least it's fresh? I don't have to eat and drink out of dumpsters any more, but you think that's half a beer, turns out to be a stale trucker bomb, you're really going to have to try harder to disgust me.

She's broken, too. That's the thing, when I curled up to her, and listened to the window flap to finally go to sleep. I hate them, perfect people. She's not a perfect people, and she tried to hide it, but once I started peeling back the layers. It hurts, it stings your eyes, but you peel back the dry papery skin, cut off the ends, caramelize it in a little butter, and even onions taste a little sweet.

I learned, I had to to survive. She's just started, but I hugged her a little tighter while she cried herself to sleep.

I don't need a doll. She needs me, though, and this is a nice feeling.

I never really had that before.

;

Like a Virgin (FG Voye/Solo)

Not like we planned it, I just dropped the needle, closed the lid, and she came out. From scrubbing the floor, I bet I can get a real French Maid outfit, imported in her size. Petite, slim, but she just smiled, nodded, and I followed her. Ignoring me, pulling her apron strings behind her, and swaying the skirt on what little hips she had so it hung back down from her waist, and the wrinkles pulled out...

To my bedroom, she rubbed the top of my dresser, looked around, right past me like I was invisible. Pulled open my underwear drawer, and felt back, past my panties to get it out. Crawled on the bed, and rolled around, pulling at the blankets, and feeling herself up. Like Madonna, with less lace. Just the scalloped edge of her collar, matching the hem of her cocktail apron draped over the side of my dresser. Like half a doily.

I wouldn't call myself bisexual, I'm a lesbian, with a husband who understands, and 2 kids in school. She should be too, but she's acting. "The only thing that girl will ever do Like a Virgin is have a baby in a stable... By an unknown father!" ~ B. Midler. Pity the poor fool that has to rinse out that lingerie!

It's an old story. The housewife comes home to find her daughter, playing with her things.

Hmmmm!

Or the naughty maid, bending over the side of the bed, picking up last night's underwear.

I didn't leave them there.

Sniffing my panties, and leaning back, to run the vibrating tip over the crotch of her's.

Those were lacy, "Nude" being an euphemism for not virginal white. Slut beige, actually fucking them in, and sighing, writhing. Feeling herself up, and down, spreading her legs, then feeling down one, back up the other.

Not like a virgin, at all.

"Snhhh! Hmmmm!" Nodding, "Snhhh!" Sucking the crotch, stuffing them in her mouth like a gag, and moaning around them. Turning around so the white hem of her housekeeping uniform barely hangs over, slipping them down her legs.

She pulled mine out of my mouth, and wiped herself. Wet, just peeking out from under the hem, but splitting it open, and drying inside. Like she just urinated, and I gasped a little.

The music stopped, so she could hear it.

"Oh?" She stopped, twisted, and looked back, over her shoulder. She put her hand down, out of her dirty crotch, but I was starting to stink up another pair.

Over and Over {It wasn't a song yet, but if there's a Leitmotif for Repetition Compulsion, it will have been History Repeating (Propellerheads feat. Shirley Bassey.) DecksAndDrumsAndRockAndRoll.}

They hung down. Behind her, like a lacy pink tail, with straps. My thong, stuffed inside her. Just inside her. Caught, by the mistress of the house, just like the book she left for me.

"Huh!" I just kept rubbing myself, in my chef pants, "No, don't mind me." I started working on the buttons of my coat. My chef's coat, with Estella Sanderson: Soux Chef on the breast, over the name of my kitchen. (Left out of this.)

Double breasted, but I just had to pop one through, the first already open at the collar, the last still holding it in the bottom, to feel the flap, pull it aside, and slip my fingers into my bra.

"Mhhh!" I just closed my eyes, and felt in the top of my work panties. "Ohhh!"

Peeked, but she just turned it off, let it roll next to her knee, and had her shoulder down. To stuff them deeper, looking back at me. She smiled, and twirled her fingers around the strap. The thong I had had between my cheeks only last night, and slowly started pulling them out.

"Snh!" The smell, came out to as they dropped and hung. Her dry lips pinching back together, then she covered them again, humping the lacy triangle of fabric. I already had my hands out, the last button undone, and stood up. From my head, leaned against the door, walked to the bed, and put my knee up on the corner. Leaning over to feel the rough white ribbon on the hem. Lift it up, and rub it over her buttocks, down her back. She was already sucking on, the front of my thong, stopped to lick it, slowly, and sensually, then geld it over her face like a mask. "Snhhhhh!"

"You've been bad," I rubbed her buttock, but instead of swatting it, I pushed her down, on her hip, and felt between her thighs. Clapping them together, then lifted her knee. Caressed the inside of her thigh, lower, and lower. Leaning down, and pulling the hem out of the way. I put my elbow down, on her satin underpants, and felt up her lips to spread them.

Dried out by my underwear, I sniffed. Smelled it, but stretched her wide open to expose the tiny pink point in the ^ of skin at the top, and tasted it.

"MH!" She stuffed it back in her mouth, and moaned through it again.

I licked lower to dip my tongue in, between the V of my fingers, and get her wet again.

No, not like a virgin, but is that blood?

/

{I'll leave the rest to your imaginations...}