Random Acts of Lust

by Primula Bond

  ‘Anything, Sara. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me kiss you. Just let me touch you up there.’ Caroline licked her lips and strained to sit up again. Even with one arm and one leg tied up, she was in charge. The husky voice, the spread legs, the fussy dress all rucked up. ‘Untie me, and I’ll show you what I can do.’

  She was strong, and quick, and then she was kissing Sara again. Now her tongue was pushing inside, licking inside, sucking Sara’s tongue until Sara groaned and fell down on top of her. Her pussy was aching now as she felt Caroline’s breasts squashed beneath her. She lifted them roughly out of the bodice and kneaded them, rubbed them against her own bare tits, hard nipple against hard nipple.

  ‘This what lesbians do, Caroline?’ she whispered as they sucked greedily on each other’s mouths, tasting sherry and coffee and wet saliva.

  ‘No idea,’ gasped Caroline, putting her free hand up to Sara’s pussy and running one finger down the warm wet crack. ‘Never done this before.’

  Sara shivered as Caroline’s finger caught on her swollen clit and then started to rub it, hard. Sara could feel her excitement pulsing, not far off. She wanted to open her legs wide and let Caroline make her come. The climax of the first act was approaching out there, Marta’s professional flamenco. After that would be some judging and marks and they would all be piling off backstage for the interval.

  Sara forced herself to pull away but Caroline just milked her hesitation by lifting her skirt right up and ripping away her knickers. She fixed Sara with those alien, painted eyes and spread her thighs, showing Sara her waiting pussy, the dark red slit shining between her legs. Sara crawled nearer and touched Caroline’s legs. Her skin was so warm. Sara pushed her fingers up towards the pale sex lips and tangled them in the strip of soft blonde bush left there. Her own pussy was so wet she could hear the lips kissing each other as she moved.

  ‘You going to smack me again? I do hope so!’ Caroline bit the finger which had just been stroking Sara’s clit, then licked it. ‘Mm, tastes so good. Ever tasted yourself? Or another woman?’

  Sara felt like she’d been electrocuted. She unzipped her skirt and flung it to one side. Her pussy was soaking now, and desperate, and she could smell her own horny scent.

  She pulled Caroline’s thighs further apart, saw the sex lips opening to show the vivid red promise of her cunt and without thinking she leaned right in and nudged the tip of her nose, forcing the lips further open, feeling the warm wetness on her face. A ripple of delicious shock went through her to smell the other woman’s female scent. This must be what animals in the jungle do – but do the females go round sniffing each other’s bottoms? Never occurred to her before. Forget the jungle. The scenario right here, in this daft little caravan, was enough to fill her with a special kind of madness. Christ, they were only a few metres away from all those worthies out in the school hall!

  So what? Caroline’s sex felt like slippery silk against Sara’s nose. She was getting drunk on the smell of her. Caroline lifted herself up and there it all was, on a plate. Sara let her tongue swipe over the crack, sliding it over the red frilled slit, feeling Caroline tense and shiver as she swept her tongue once, twice up over the furls of her sex, tasting the salty sweetness, feeling the bump of the little clit standing up in there. She pushed the palm of her hand against her own pussy, rubbed one finger against her own clitoris, everything contracting and squeezing urgently to come, now, straight away. She snatched her hand away again, too soon, too soon, started lapping again at Caroline, lapping like a cat, making Caroline March twitch and groan with every stroke.

  ‘I thought you’d be up for it, if I just found the right time,’ groaned Caroline, pushing herself against Sara’s mouth. ‘Though maybe not the right place –’

  Sara jerked away, angry at the interruption. Caroline pouted at her. ‘Don’t stop, Sara! You’re a natural. So good –’

  Sara bit her lip, tasting blood. She turned Caroline roughly on to her side, and slapped her hard on the bottom. ‘For speaking you get punished. No more licking.’

  ‘Please, Sara! I’m creaming myself here! Lick me, lick me!’

  ‘You’re here for my pleasure, remember! And you need to be punished.’

  Caroline moaned and writhed, pushing her wet cunt up towards Sara. Sara wanted so much to lick it, to finger herself, to come with just a couple of flicks, but she was also enjoying this naughty game. She listened to the music out there, drowning for the moment the sounds of her slapping and Caroline’s moans. Her challenge was to keep this going until the flamenco competition ended.

  ‘Anything, anything,’ Caroline moaned.

  Sara smiled as a thought occurred to her. She reached into the bag she’d stuffed all her own clothes into, and brought out, yes, her pink thong. She feasted her eyes for a moment on Caroline, who was now shamelessly fingering herself, fanning her fingers over her pussy to open the lips, poking one long finger up inside, closing her white thighs over her hand, trapping it there until it had made her come. Quick as a whip she grabbed Caroline’s free hand and lashed it to the other one, above her head.

  ‘You wanted to know about my thong? Well, I have it right here.’

  Caroline giggled, her eyes closed. Sara stretched the thong so that it was a taut string, then she knelt down on Caroline’s thighs to hold them open and then holding each end of the thong-rope sliced it quickly up Caroline’s slit. Caroline arched her back, pulling and tugging at the restraints, tipping herself upwards, offering herself desperately.

  Sara scraped the thong down hard, knowing that it would be slicing right over the sensitive clit and all the flesh surrounding it, scraping at the most tender parts. She wished she could see better. In this semi-darkness she couldn’t see how the pain would be turning Caroline’s clit a brighter red. She started rubbing her makeshift prop up and down the other woman’s cunt, faster and faster, thrilling to see Caroline bucking and writhing about on the scruffy floor, her elbows and knees flexing, her throat and back arching, her mouth open, tongue extended like a cat yawning.

  And Sara was shocked to find that her own pleasure was rooted in inflicting just enough pain, that Caroline obviously wanted to be hurt, her squeals were turning into screams, but there was no fear there, just ecstasy, and Sara couldn’t get over the way her own body was convulsing in response.

  Caroline’s screams were getting higher and louder. This was like being in a film, like watching someone else, another Sara Singer torturing a voluptuous naughty sex slave behind the scenes of the school show. Someone with no inhibitions whatsoever, the Sara she secretly must be. She couldn’t hold her own climax much longer.

  She yanked the thong away from Caroline, who howled in animal anger and started trying to rub herself frantically against the sheets, opening and shutting her legs, to finish herself off. Sara balled up the thong and stuffed it into Caroline’s mouth, enough to muffle her noise. Still Caroline wouldn’t stop jerking about. The only way to stop her was to sit on her. She settled herself astride her slave, but as her over-heated pussy met Caroline’s warm skin she nearly came there and then. She started rubbing her wet pussy against Caroline’s legs, the other woman’s body arousing her to madness. Now it was Sara who couldn’t keep still. She crawled over Caroline, spread herself over her, pressed her breasts against Caroline’s as she rolled every inch of her over every inch of the semi-naked Caroline, on she moved, crawling up until their faces were close. Caroline wasn’t moaning so hard now that Sara had stopped with the friction.

  ‘You want me to take the thong out?’ she whispered. ‘You promise to be quiet? They’ll all hear you, if you go on mewling like an alley cat. They’ll hear and they’ll all troop out to see what’s going on, and I’ll show them where you are. They’ll see you, tied up and spread-eagled, your cunt all red and wet and ready like you’re a hooker ready for a gang bang, and who knows, maybe some of the daddies might like to have a go –’

  They both grinned at each other, liking that idea. Sara hooked the t
hong out and Caroline’s tongue flickered out at her. ‘Time to let me go, Sara?’

  ‘Oh, no. I haven’t come yet.’

  ‘But you just said, they’ll be finished soon. They’ll all see –’

  Sara shook her head. ‘They won’t know you’re in here, if I don’t show them. I could keep you tied up in here all night. How about that? My slave, in her gypsy caravan, tied up here for my delectation. And anyone else’s pleasure, come to that.’

  ‘I want you, Sara, badly, but –’

  ‘You started this, Caroline. You want me to gag you again?’ She could hear her voice, thick with desire as she groped for what she did want.

  ‘No, Sara. It tasted good, the thong. Tasted of you. And we can do this some more. Tonight. At my house! We can finish this properly, in comfort, in my Jacuzzi or my bed. Just let me go –’

  Sara looked at Caroline’s mouth. Now it was her turn to groan as she crawled up until her knees were either side of Caroline’s face, her pussy inches above her mouth. ‘First lick me, Mrs March. Lick me until I’m screaming as loud as you were.’

  She lowered herself to sit on Caroline’s face. Not squashing her, but hovering as best she could, feeling Caroline’s warm breath on her bottom. And then the licking started. Soft, almost feathery caresses over her pussy lips, which pulsed quietly, and here was the wet tip of Caroline’s tongue flicking up the crack then smoothing itself flat over the swollen lips.

  Sara’s head was spinning. She listened to the wild gypsy music, the applause, the laughter, imagined those faces if they could see Caroline pleasuring her behind the scenes, the adults leaving their seats, peering into the caravan to see Sara Singer’s thighs spread over Mrs March’s face, her white face jerking up and down between Sara’s tanned thighs, her red tongue slurping at Mrs Singer’s cunt.

  Sara spread her legs wider, opening herself to more intense pleasure, moaning and straining as Caroline’s tongue lapped faster, and then Sara wondered how often Caroline had done this before, who with, who in the parents’ committee had she licked, and the thought of it turned her on even more, images flashing in her head, music and applause loud in her ears, sensations sizzling in her cunt as Caroline’s mouth sucked at her while her tongue probed, forcing its way further in to her pussy like a cock, then pulling back so that Sara ground herself harder into Caroline’s face, feeling her nose pushing above her pubic bone, into her bladder and now the sensation to piss started building as well and she thought she would go mad with excitement.

  Now it was Caroline who was back in charge, torturing her as her tongue flicked mercilessly at Sara’s clitoris, then started to encircle it.

  Sara couldn’t help it. She started to jerk frantically. She was on fire now, her clit burning, the waves building, her thighs shaking with the effort of holding her, and oh God now she was sucking again and again, so mercilessly. Sara rocked back and forth, opening her legs still wider to make a proper feast for Mrs March.

  She could hear Caroline’s saliva as she slurped on Sara’s pussy juice and pushed her tongue right up, harder and harder, sliding over the clit as it thrust in and out. Sara rocked faster, her cunt and lips and clit rubbing against Caroline’s tongue and nose and chin, her hips bucking more wildly.

  The applause started to die away. Chairs were scraped back. Instruments packed into cases. No footsteps yet. Voices grew from murmurs to almost shouting to be heard. Caroline worked Sara to a final frenzy, her mouth and tongue lapping frantically. Here it came. Sara drew her hips back in a final glorious convulsion and her cunt, her whole body drew in on itself, grew tight as she moaned and started to come, pushing herself into Caroline’s face, smearing her juices all over her, rubbing herself on and on over her face until long after the climax had faded.

  At last she eased herself away, smoothed her petticoats down and stood up. Caroline’s face and make up was all smeared now, with sweat and with Sara’s juices, the lace mantilla all askew.

  ‘What about me, Sara?’ she whimpered, shivering from frustration and the cold. She pulled weakly at the ties, ‘It’s my turn to come. Or let me go.’

  Sara thought for a moment. She was still out of breath, flushed and sweating. Under her skirts her pussy was still wet and twitching. People were mostly going out through the auditorium, but the orchestra and some of the staff came backstage. She jumped down, ignoring Caroline’s hissing, and stuffed her breasts back inside the bodice. Everyone streamed past, the men staring at her, the women pushing them on.

  Marta tripped through the curtain, panting with exertion, her dark hair in damp ringlets around her face. ‘Where’s Caroline, Sara? She was supposed to come out and give out all sorts of notices about the rules and the prizes.’ She stepped towards the caravan. ‘Scenery looks great, by the way. Looks fun in this little hidey hole? Go on, let me look!’

  ‘You can’t go in there, darling – it’s still wet –’

  She giggled at the thought of Caroline trussed up and naked in there, certainly still wet, inches away from an auditorium full of admiring parents, imagined herself dressed as a fortune teller, asking for money and beckoning them in to see what their future held –

  ‘You OK? You look very flushed and sweaty, Sara. Coming down with some kind of fever?’ Marta glanced again at the caravan. They both caught sight of Caroline’s abandoned shoe. If Marta moved a fraction of an inch, she’d see Caroline’s toes, too, wiggling frantically for help. Marta raised a jet black eyebrow. ‘Or maybe inhaling too many paint fumes?’

  Sara laughed. ‘Swigging all that Spanish sherry.’

  ‘You coming to the pub for another?’

  ‘Oh, I can’t, darlin. I’ve got to get this old heap finished off to my satisfaction so we can push it out on the stage tomorrow.’

  She waited until everyone had admired her handiwork on their way out, and most of the lights were turned off. She wasn’t ready to go home. She didn’t want this game to stop. Not yet. Not while she had Caroline March at her mercy.

  ‘I’m just going to tell your Graham that I need your help back here so you won’t be home for an hour or so.’ She climbed back inside, and sat down on Caroline’s legs. ‘Then I’ll come back, and I’ll make you lick me out all over again. And then if you’re very very good, I’ll lick you, too, till you’re screaming for me to stop.’

  ‘Don’t leave me here!’ Caroline reared against the restraints, eyes widening with fury. ‘Someone’s bound to find me! The headmistress. The carpenter. The caretaker!’

  ‘They’ll have something to show and tell, then, won’t they?’ Sara stroked Caroline’s reddening face. ‘Just think. Caroline March, ice queen, found tied up and butt naked in the caravan, offering her superior services to anyone who fancies!’

  ‘You little ginger bitch!’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s me, honey.’ Sara laughed and tickled the thong between Caroline’s breasts, over the mound of her crotch. ‘But I learned from the mistress. Right. When I get back I want you to suck my nipples!’

  ‘Hurry back then, Sara Singer.’ Caroline fell back, closed her eyes and wriggled sinuously. ‘And if you’re very good, I’ll show you what to do with my cheerleader’s pom poms.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m making the rules from now on.’ Sara couldn’t resist bending over and kissing Caroline’s mouth, running her tongue across the other woman’s teeth, tangling her tongue with hers. She pulled away, looked longingly at the curvy body lying there, just for her. ‘And what’s more, we’ve got all night, Mrs March.’

  Good as Gold

  WHEN I GROW UP I want to be just like Sophie. She’s my idol. She knows it all, except how I feel about her. She’s tall, clever, talented, beautiful, stylish. At her age you know she’s been enjoying sex for a very, very long time and you can’t help, or I can’t help, imagining her at it. She knows it all, but I’m not sure she knows how amazing she is. And I never knew a totally red-blooded chick like me could feel like this about another, older, woman.

  Anyway, she obviousl
y loves me, too, because not long ago she asked me to undertake a very delicate assignment. Top secret. And fraught with danger. If I cocked it up, everything dear to us both could be blown out of the water.

  ‘I don’t care how you do it. Scramble across roof tops if you have to. I’ll lend you a camera.’ For now, though, she handed me a hammer. ‘Call it arty reconnaissance.’

  ‘Call it spying, you mean.’ I banged in the final nail and hung the last picture.

  ‘I can trust you, Suzanne.’ She wandered over to the over-sized cream sofa in the corner of her sitting room. I love her house almost as much as I love her. It’s all huge glass walls straight out of Grand Designs and they’ve both worked like dogs to get it. Everything is lush. Their bed is absolutely built for sex, right down to the mirrored wall opposite and the way the shadows flicker across the duvet. ‘After all, this time next year you’ll be married to my Jake. The little daughter I never had.’

  ‘And Martin will be my father-in-law.’

  ‘Whatever. I need to know what he’s up to while I’m away.’ Sophie crossed one long leg over the other and studied the way I’d hung her latest floral photographs. Their house was going to be used as exhibition space later in the year. ‘Our marriage is totally open. You knew that before you signed up to join this family. But lately it’s felt like it, he, is getting out of control. He seems more sexed up than ever. I can’t keep up. It’s like he’s addicted –’

  ‘Sort of like Michael Douglas, you mean? But he seems so – calm, always.’ The thrill of scandal rippled. ‘You think Martin needs therapy?’

  ‘Who can say, sweetie? Maybe.’ She shrugged. Her long diamond earrings swung against her shoulders. ‘Certainly he’ll go mad if he doesn’t get laid as often as possible. Or maybe it’s me, just getting old and paranoid –’