by PN Books
The only thing that was missing, the one thing that would've made this brief interlude in her chaotic life even more exciting was if she had a sexy young woman with her, sexy young legs to put her head in between, smooth thighs to kiss, a shaved, tight, pink pussy dripping with desire for more experienced hands and tongue and lips.
But it was okay. She would enjoy this moment alone. She didn't have her rabbit or any of her other toys with her, but she never had a problem getting herself off with just a few of her fingers. This seemed like the perfect time to do just that.
With a few fingers inside her tight contacts, wet inside her tight, wet, pink pussy, she pushed the fingers in and out, in and out, until it was prone to lose too much, until the desire which had been restrained for such a long time finally collapsed, the ramparts destroyed her pleasure wildly overflowing from her, spilling down the insides of her thighs.
She moved the fingers in and out, her breathing picking up, eyes closed. She moaned, searched for images from her collection of past lovers, images of their limbs intertwined, bodily fluids being exchanged, passing back and forth, oozing out of sacred orifices. It felt so good to play with a woman. And there were so many so-called straight women who harbored a repressed desire for the touch and love of a woman.
But they’d become far too reliant on the security and protection, which men afforded them, too brainwashed by a materialist and narrowly defined success-driven culture. In exchange for denying such a large part of themselves, they received the security of the three-car garage, the 2.5 kids, and the unlimited, shopping budget. Living a real, honest life would require that they step away, or maybe free themselves, from the bonds of conventional thinking. That was a very difficult task for so many, if not all, even the ones who managed to break off the chains. That fight for freedom, while victorious, most likely left wounds on both their bodies and souls, wounds real and imagined, literal and metaphorical.
If only she had a woman to accompany her, Lauren thought hungrily. She wanted a woman. She desperately did. There was no way to deny that. Eyes still closed, fingers still moving in and out, she could feel her body beginning to quiver with the early tremors of an orgasm. But before she got there, before her body was taken over with delight, before she began shaking wildly out of control, she heard the sauna door opening.
For a moment, her body tensed. Her fingers stopped moving in and out. She shivered with fear, afraid to open her eyes.
“I hope you don't mind me joining you,” a familiar feminine voice said.
Laura didn't need to open her eyes to see who it was. But when she did open them, she was granted the pleasure of gazing upon the beautiful Cara, the blonde cheerleader from the other day. She was beautiful, tall, and lean with full, delicious-looking tits. Her hair was wet and matted to her skull. She’d just emerged from the pool.
Lauren’s eyes roved up and down the beautiful, pale flesh. Goddamn, she said to herself. I’d love to suck and nibble and lick every inch of that beautiful fucking body.
Cara kept her eyes fixed on Lauren as she sauntered towards her. Cara stood in front of her, towering, nude body glistening. Lauren's eyes grew lust-filled. She reached out and took hold of the cheerleaders flesh. She began kissing, sucking, and nibbling. Cara closed her eyes, leaned her head back and moaned. Then she ran her fingers through Lauren's hair, tussling it up.
“Oh my God. I want to taste your pussy so bad,” Lauren said. “So fucking bad.”
Cara smiled as Lauren got down on her knees and placed herself in between her legs. This is not how Lauren had imagined the encounter going, not exactly. She figured that she would be the one in charge, leading things forward, directing the younger, less experienced woman in the ways of Sapphic love, telling her exactly where she wanted to be touched.
Lauren tilted her head up, kissing the inside of Cara’s succulent, alabaster thighs, keeping her hands firmly gripped on that rich girl’s ass that she’d been fantasizing about, or maybe obsessing is the better word, since their brief but indelible intimate moment.
She licked from left to right across the swollen labia then she licked diagonally. Cara’s huge engorged clit stared back at her, beckoning, demanding attention, a good sucking, licking, tongue fucking.
Lauren flicked out at the clit head. Cara’s body tensed. Her moans became deeper.
“That feels so fucking good,” she said. “No man has ever –”
Her words were cut off by the pleasure that seemed to surge throughout her body as Lauren moved from flicking at herclit lightly and tantalizingly, to nibbling on it, to hungrily and aggressively sucking on it.
Cara’s hands gripped Laura's hair tightly.
“Don't stop,” the cheerleader said. “Please, don't stop.
There was no way in hell that Lauren was going to stop, never in her life had a woman tasted better, never in her life had she been so determined to push a woman past the point of restraint, to take her over the edge of pleasure, leave her panting, sweating, and satisfied in the Valley of sexual bliss and fulfillment. As she pushed the thin, busty blonde closer and closer to the edge, Lauren knew just what to do in order to get her to go full throttle off the cliff and across the Canyon.
The ass! More specifically the asshole. That's all it would take.
Her fingers were already wet with the sweat that dripped down Cara’s back and ass. She knew that she wouldn't have any problems getting a couple fingers up there. Maybe even more if that's what the Valley girl was into. Lauren had always enjoyed anal play, especially fisting.
She licked her lips and began rubbing around Cara’stight asshole.
Cara immediately felt shockwaves of pleasure.
“Oh yeah, play with my ass. That feels so good. Please put your fingers in it. As many as –”
Her words were cut short. Lauren had heard all she needed to hear. She thrust two sweat-slicked fingers directly into Cara’s asshole while keeping her mouth tightly clamped down on the swollen clit. It wasn't long before Lauren felt Cara’s juices spilling out of her. She sucked and slurped and licked greedily at the fluids, and continued pushing her fingers in and out of hertight, but slowly loosening, asshole.
Suddenly the door opened. A tall figure stood in the doorway. Cody Zeller. The quarterback. Cara's fiancé.
“What the fuck?” He said.
After staring at both Lauren and Cara, for what seemed like forever, looking up and down their glistening bodies with disgust, Cody mumbled something under his breath, turned his back on them, and slammed the door shut as he left the room.
“What have I done?” Cara said, dropping her head in her hands. “He's going to kill me.”
She began sobbing, her body heaving up and down.
For a few moments, Lauren stared at her without knowing what to do. The two women hardly knew each other. This was so strange. So unlike anything that had ever happened to her. But she couldn't just sit there and watch this young womanwith whom she'd exchanged kisses and sucks and nibbles and licks for the past hour suffering without doing something.
"It's okay," Lauren said, putting her arm around Cara's shoulder. “Don't worry about him."
"What?" Cara’s eyes were red and desperate. “Get away from me,” she said, pushing Lauren.
Lauren fell back. Her head banged against the floor. But the real bruise, the real blow was delivered to her ego. What the hell was wrong with this woman? How dare some stupid cheerleader treat her like this?
"What the hell is your problem?"Lauren asked. "We were having so much fun. Why do you have to go ruining it by being a bitch?”
“Just stay away from me,” Cara said. “I'm not a fucking lesbian. Just stay away from me.”
“Bitch,” Lauren said, just before Cara stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
For the next hour, Lauren sat on the floor of the sauna trembling with rage, salty streams running down her cheeks.
*****
When Lauren got home later that day, she still hadn't recovered from
the shock and sting toher ego and pride. She knew that wasn't her only problem. They’d been caught red handed, hand in the cookie jar, tongue in cunt, finger in ass, pumping and licking, by the team's most important and highest paid player, the star quarterback.
A different kind of guy, one with more imagination and less ego, might've joined them, may have stripped off the towel, began stroking his hard dick, pre-cum already oozing from the tip, before he sauntered across the room and got in on the fun.
Lauren wasn't sure how she would've felt about a male participant. Big swinging dicks, sweaty hairy balls, and assholes really weren’t her thing. Yet even if he had joined in and made things a little bit uncomfortable for Lauren, she would've much preferred that to her current position.
Cody wasn't the type of egomaniacal, self-obsessed, arrogant asshole to let someone mess around with his woman. Especially not the kicker. Especially not some “dike” as he might have called her.
To rebuild his ego, he would probably goout on a woman and booze binge for the next 48 hours. And he would be sure to pose for plenty of pictures in front of the paparazzi, arm wrapped around some sexy, dimwitted twenty-something, perfectly willing to be used for whatever purpose this most desirable of men designated for her.
“What an asshole!” Lauren said with disgust and bitterness. And then her thoughts turned even more bitter. No matter what he didto Cara, what kind of abuse he heaped upon her, verbal or physical, how many threats or wild accusations or fists he hurled at her, she’d end up staying with him. And of course, like most straight women, she’dsay it's because she loves him. Bullshit! She’d heard that before, far too many times to still believe it.
For a long time, Lauren paced around her apartment, gnawing at her fingernails. A bad habit she’d picked up from her father. There was so much at stake. This was a time when the only thing she needed to be worrying about was making sure she didn’t get cut from the team and she was worrying herself sick about a relationship. Relationship?
“What a joke!” She said out loud. Was she really falling that hard for some blonde bimbo, Valley girl cheerleader who liked spreading her legs and maybe even her ass for the quintessential, blue-blooded, blonde hair, green-eyed quarterback?
Yes, that's exactly what she was doing. Or maybe it was her strong, stubborn will that wouldn't let her except how the encounter between them had ended.
There was no telling what heights of pleasure they could have ascended together, how many times they would've made each other swoon and orgasm uncontrollably, how long they would have been laying on the floor of the sauna, panting, sweating, tired limbs intertwined.
But all that had been ended in an instant, snapped away from them.
For the next couple days, in the lead-up to the game in New York, Lauren tried as best she could to keep her mind entirely focused on football. And when the practice was over she spent as little time as possible in the training facility for fear that she may run into Cara. The anger, the stinging pain, she'd initially felt had subsided somewhat, only to be replaced by a lingering sadness, a melancholythat seemed to make itself felt whenever she stopped pushing her body to the max, focusing her mind on a football-specific task. That's why even when she came home from practice, she watched game film of other kickers. Of course, all of them were men. That didn't bother her. Not at all. The only thing that mattered was mastering her craft, improving every day, every day moving closer and closer to mastery. She paid special attention to the last-minute pressure kicks.
She knew that she would get another opportunity, another chance to show that she belonged, that she could be counted on in the most important moments. She would kick the ball straight through uprights. She would be the hero.
She was actually looking forward to the trip to New York, until she remembered the ridiculous bit of playacting that her PR agency expected from her, once she arrived.
Walk around the city with a male model or athlete, or maybe just a regular guy, pose for pictures, smile, hold hands, talk about how great things are going, how much they care for each other. What a joke! A sick,stupid, dishonest joke!
What really hurt her was that the joke was on her. She was the one being mocked and manipulated. She wasn't good enough as she was. The fact that she’d become incredibly skilled at her craft, the fact that she was a serious professional committed to improving every day, didn't count for much. At least, it didn't seem to.
Nope, none of that would matter.
Image. Branding. Popularity.
The night before the flight across the country to New York, Lauren tossed and turned in her bed, her mind tormented by a flood of images.
She woke up the next morning, cranky, annoyed, and sore. And most importantly still tired. The next few days would be some of the most difficult of her life. She'd be tiptoeing through about a battlefield streamed with landmines, while missiles whistled in the air overhead,en route for her skull. There had to be a way out of this. She felt foolish for having wasted so much time arguing and feeling sorry for herself because of the position her PR agency was putting her through. She should've spent that time figuring out some sort of way to slip through this trap.
The team plane finally touched down in New York on Thursday. All throughout the flight, Lauren had done her best not to make eye contact with either Cara or Cody. They were doing their usual petting, kissing and calling each other by ridiculous nicknames. Putting on a show for all to see. The guys on the team had learned to block all that stuff out. For the most part, Lauren wasn't bothered by it either, at least until she and Cara hooked up in the sauna.
Now everything was different. Now she could hear every single word between them, reverberating in her years, jackhammering her skull, stinging her, filling her with jealousy and anger. When the plane finally landed, she was panting and covered in a thick layer of sweat. She wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothes, start screaming like a banshee, rush down the aisle, jump on top of both Cara and Cody, beating them with her fists until they cried out in pain until they admitted that they were liars and cowards.
*****
Lauren went straight up to her hotel room and plopped down on the bed. All the emotions that she’d experienced for the last couple of hours had completely exhausted her. She didn't have any energy to go out that night, despite how bad her PR agency wanted her to walk around town with some peacock, strutting before the cameras, posing and preening and pretending. That's what they wanted her to do. Bullshit. She slammed her fists against the mattress several times, then buried her head in a pillow as she screamed.
This shit was driving her crazy. There was no way that she’d be able to go through with this charade of a date.
The call would be coming any minute. They hadn’t even told her who the guy was, what he did, what he looked like, what they were supposed to talk about. What they were supposed to do. They had left her completely in the dark since that early morning Skype meeting. She hadn't heard anything from them.
She couldn’t help feeling that they had no respect for her craft, no regard for how important concentration was to a kicker, of all players. She was finally able to fall asleep, only to be woken several minutes later by the ringing of her phone.
She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “This is it,” she said out loud. “This is fucking it.”
The phone rang and rang and rang again. She was about to let it go to voicemail. But she decided that would only make things worse. She wouldn't run from this. She would face it head on. It had gone on long enough. She was ready. She would tell the world who she was and she would stop pretending and hiding, just because the sponsors didn't want to find out that they'd given a $15 million contract to a dike. That's what he'd said. That asshole.
Well, too bad. She didn't care if she lost every single last one of those endorsement deals. She would tell the world who she was. She would live out her real life.
She looked at the name and number on the phone. Yes, it was Cindy, her hypocrit
ical publicist who had a fetishfor18-year-old artsy girls.
“Hello, Cindy,” Lauren said, the edge and anger seeping through her voice. “I don't know what you're going to tell me and I don't know what guy you chose for me. But I'm not going out with him. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Cindy said on the other end.
“What?” Lauren said, shocked, disbelieving the answer she'd heard. That certainly was not the answer that she’d expected to hear. No way. Not in a million years.
“Lauren, we've had a lot of discussions over the last few days,” Cindy said. “And we decided that we’re not going to have you go out with a man.”
“But I still have to stay in the closet?” Lauren said. “Isn't that right?”
There was a moment of silent tension. Lauren heard what sounded like tears and sobbing on the other end. What was going on? She wasn't sure. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing did. It was all so confusing.
“Cindy,” Lauren said, her voice suddenly full of empathy. “Is everything okay?”
Now the sobbing became more audible.
Cindy sniffled. It sounded like she was wiping the tears away, trying to get control of her emotions.
“Everything's okay,” Cindy said, the words barely getting out of her choked up throat. “No, it's not. No, everything is not all right.”
For the next half an hour, Lauren listened as compassionately as she could as Cindy told her the pain she’d experienced lately. She'd been dumped by three consecutive young lovers. She felt old and washed up, no longer attractive. She just wanted to play that Mama lesbian role. The young women that she desired, the women that she craved and obsessed over, continued to dump her once they found someone younger and fresher.
“I'm really sorry to hear that,” Lauren said. “I know it can be so difficult to be alone. Really really difficult.”
“I know,” Cindy said. “And that's why I couldn't have you go around pretending anymore to be someone that you're not. Denying yourself the love that is out there. There are so many women that are inspired by you. That look up to you. That want to fuck you.”