Stacy had never been that girl: the kind of woman who does things merely for shock value. In her world, days began with wheat toast and egg whites joined by one cup of decaf, then a simple peck goodbye for Todd on his way to work. Every day was the same – whole wheat and not a whole lot of surprises.
Volunteering weekends at the community soup kitchen was another reliable event, though the only eventful part was the chance to spend a little time with her latest obsession. Not knitting or the scrapbooking kick she’d been on last year; this fixation was something ... different. Stacy was a good girl – a good wife, a good parishioner and an upstanding member of her small community. But for the life of her, she couldn’t shake this nagging infatuation, no matter how salacious it was.
‘Would you do me a favour and make sure I don’t bust my ass on this ladder?’ Myra asked, gesturing for her to add some stability at the base and stretching to fasten a paper turkey to the wall. Year-old tape flapped loosely from its debut in last year’s Thanksgiving poverty outreach dinner. She raised her voice, mocking the rules of decorum. ‘Wasn’t Dan in charge of the decorations? Cheap bastard.’
Myra had a slender, petite frame and even appeared frail at first glance. It always surprised Stacy to hear the brash, off-colour remarks she dispensed on a regular basis. They became fast friends at the kitchen, but Stacy was careful not to carry their relationship out of the building; scared of what might happen if she dared to challenge happenstance. She simply didn’t trust herself alone with this lover of women who made her wonder about undiscovered paths.
As Myra teetered on the ladder, Stacy found herself peering under her miniskirt, making out the round curve of her bottom. What was it about her? She didn’t know, but the secret floated in the scent of the air when she passed, making Stacy want to take a deep breath.
Myra shifted to maintain her balance and Stacy got a good view of her silky panties, unexpectedly sheer, the soft rise of her lips beyond. She stared, and really didn’t care to remember that someone might be watching. In the shadows, she could just make out the barest of skin scarcely sheathed from the rest of the world in fine black mesh. Stacy had thought about being completely bare – down there – but hadn’t found the courage to go to the salon and have it done. A smile arrived with the idea of her and Myra going together.
Then Myra was losing her balance and Stacy reached to lend support, her hand reflexively slipping under her butt. In that instant, Stacy was awash with adrenaline and her hand lingered a moment longer than was appropriate.
Myra passed a slight smirk over her shoulder down to Stacy. ‘I knew you’d come in handy. Thanks.’
Stacy yanked her hand away, tucking it quickly behind her back. ‘I’m sorry.’
Thoughtfully, Myra let her tongue dance slowly over her teeth while her eyes burned into Stacy’s skin, putting her further on the spot.
‘Lunch.’ The announcement from across the room delivered Stacy a welcome respite.
She cleared her throat. ‘I’ll grab you a sandwich. Grilled chicken, right?’
‘Thanks, hon, I’ll save you a seat.’
Stacy claimed two neatly wrapped paper bundles and slipped into the chair next to her, marvelling at how Myra tended to hold everyone captive with her gritty wit.
‘I didn’t go all the way to Queens just to hear about the price of milk. The painful thing about mothers is you never grow up enough to tell them to shut it.’ Myra laughed casually as did Jake and Marci who shared the table and nodded with knowing agreement.
Neither of them would have guessed that underneath the table she had begun to trail her fingers up Stacy’s leg. Myra dared her to put a stop to it. With each whisper of her fingers on her thigh she challenged Stacy to brush her away. Stacy did nothing. And when Myra suddenly grabbed her, the action merely produced a jolt and an exaggerated blurt of laughter with the intent to deter any suspicion.
Myra smiled directly at her and continued. ‘You know it’s like I spent my entire childhood listening to her tell me to be quiet and the only way I can escape hearing about my cousin’s new McMansion is to fake a call waiting on the other line.’ Those fingers slowed again on Stacy’s thigh, circling and stroking, squeezing ever so slightly.
Stacy looked around, her heart thundering inside her neat cashmere sweater. It was dizzying – the audacity, the sheer naughtiness. But Stacy’s silent invitation hollered for more with her passive acquiescence.
When Myra’s hand climbed all the way up, to the nest of warmth between her thighs, Stacy only closed her eyes and rested her head on her index finger. The image paraded in the darkness, Myra’s fingers tracing the edges of her sensible cotton briefs through her leggings. Then a pinkie presented itself, small and skilled on her bud, circling and dabbing so very softly, barely detectable, but growing more present with every passing minute. All the while, Myra continued to chat and eat, as if nothing were happening at all.
‘Stacy, are you all right?’ Jake asked, noticing she had become quiet; her eyes still closed with a distant expression on her face. He had to ask twice, calling, ‘Stacy, did you hear me,’ and finally bringing her back to the conversation.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, but excused herself nonetheless. In truth, Stacy had become uncomfortably wet inside her panties and needed to escape to the bathroom.
Her thoughts were racing, thrashing about in her head. She couldn’t ask her, could not even look over her shoulder with a silent plea. Stacy was only able to pray that she would follow.
Not long after Stacy closed the door to her stall, she heard Myra’s motorcycle boots clacking on the tile floor.
‘Where are yooooouuu?’ she called playfully, pushing open each stall door until she reached a locked one. ‘Do you want me to come in there?’
Softly, in spite of herself, Stacy whispered, ‘Yes,’ and unlocked the door.
With a flick of her wrist, Myra gave a push and it creaked open to reveal Stacy’s leggings were already down at her ankles. She paused a moment before stepping in and securing the door behind her.
‘How much do you want this?’ Myra challenged, forcing Stacy to spell out her desire.
‘A lot,’ she puffed as if the words were forced from her lips.
Myra boldly placed her hand onto Stacy’s sopping vagina. ‘Mmm. Yes, I see,’ she purred, running her fingers through the slippery creases.
Stacy was startled. ‘Oh!’ And startled again by the rattling stall as she staggered to the side.
Myra inched nearer, her other hand disappearing into the brown sea of Stacy’s hair. ‘I promise, I don’t bite.’
The back of her head slipped easily into the cup of Myra’s small palm and Stacy found little resistance in her neck as Myra drew her mouth to hers. In the roundness of her tongue, Stacy relived the smoky haze of a girl who had never been kissed – that is never been kissed, by a girl.
That tongue, so patient at first, was drawing on Stacy’s rising desire and feeding it slowly with unrelenting persistence. On and deeper into the soft wetness she probed – a sweet prelude and treated as such. When Myra chose to suck gently on her neck and twist her ripe nipple softly between two fingers, the result was more combustible than she expected.
Stacy stumbled again.
‘Let me help you with those,’ Myra proposed, gesturing to the jumble of blended lycra catching her ankles.
Stacy offered up one leg and then the other. No longer trapped, Myra directed her to stand on the toilet. The cold metal stall provided a reliable support under her white-knuckle grip as Myra raised one of her thighs and delicately introduced her tongue into the heat of Stacy’s core.
‘Ooh ... my ...’ Stacy simply couldn’t wrap her mind around the feeling, but she was melting in the delight of it despite the chill of the recycled air.
Sure, her husband made a habit of treating her to some oral attention on the regular, but never had the sensation been quite like what Myra elicited with a spectacular ensemble of dips, twists and swirls. Her eyes rolled back as Myra’s tongue swept to and fro with just the right amount of firmness and a rhythm meant to keep a gasp poised in Stacy’s throat.
With eyes closed, her hand found Myra’s head and drew her closer, needful for every pass more than the last. Stacy marvelled at the delicious sounds escaping that petite mouth as Myra drank her in and occasionally glanced up to spy her pleasured expression. A sway of her hips, dragging, now stop and then again – Stacy gratuitously rocked over Myra’s open mouth, letting the feeling rule her entirely.
Myra was making her gulp for air, thinking that she might just hyperventilate and pass out. She held on tight to the steel wall meant for privacy, but not so good at containing her rising moans. The slipping, the sliding, the sipping and tugging were making her delirious with lust and she began to imagine what it would be like to return the favour. Stacy visualised every sweep and lick round her clit and into her crevice. She saw herself doing the same and the image cooked up a new batch of elixir for Myra to lap at.
‘Come for me, baby.’ Myra cooed, in the time it took to dip two fingers deep inside her. Then with nary a beat skipped, it was more of the same genius manoeuvres from her hot mouth.
‘Oh God!’ The words were shivering on her lips yet hazardously loud despite the nagging reminder of their semi-private surroundings.
Still Myra wanted more and knew exactly how to get it, rolling her fingers slightly on entry and withdrawing with the upturn of her tongue. That solicited another outburst – music to her ears.
‘How long?’
Stacy managed an inquisitive grunt.
‘How long have you wanted this?’ Myra asked, seizing another opportunity to make her claim.
‘Really long.’
‘Not as long as me,’ she purred and ran her fingers into Stacy’s cunt with the speed of intention. Stacy’s knees buckled and Myra worked her licks into overdrive.
It wasn’t long any more. With a proper climax breaking free against Myra’s busy tongue, a raw and fierce hunger flooded her every recess. Gripped by it, Stacy poured herself out entirely until she was a mass of quivering nerves.
But in the afterglow, she needed help. Yes, yes ... help. I need help, because I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t feel my legs. The look of desperation on Stacy’s face even startled Myra, who then produced a hand, delicate in the air and held patiently still until Stacy reached for it with trembling fingers.
On Myra’s assistance, Stacy climbed down from her perch and received a sweet kiss once grounded. The taste of her own juices left sticky on Myra’s mouth made Stacy even more impatient to know her unique flavour. Myra drew her closer, wrapping her arms around her neck possessively. But Stacy resisted, instead guiding Myra to take her previous position on top of the basin.
Follow my instinct, that’s all I have to do.
Myra pulled up her skirt, and Stacy yanked down her panties to reveal plumped lips eager to be caressed in return.
Stacy had always appreciated the female form, but until now settled only for the offerings of her own. In the morning after Todd left for work, she regularly revelled in the feel of herself. Luxuriating in the velvety softness that is woman, she’d float her fingers over the curves rising from the landscape of her body. Myra, up close, was far more captivating.
She took it slow, celebrating the moment with tentative strokes of her fingers on Myra’s responsive lips. Stacy watched in amazement as each touch produced a quiver and a sigh. A single finger pressed into her wetness and retracted produced a string of silk for curious inspection.
And then a taste.
Gently, Stacy extended her tongue onto the tip of Myra’s clit, barely – softly – tasting.
The ginger sweeps she delivered sent Myra’s breathing into low rough growls, crying out every time Stacy’s tongue slipped over her. Myra was sweeter than Stacy could have imagined and she absolutely delighted in the way Myra’s fingertips played in her hair, encouraging her to continue.
Stacy grew more confident and drove her face into Myra’s glistening pussy.
‘Yes, that’s right. Have me.’
Have her. I can – I am ... having her. No more wanting, wondering. No more thinking, just doing. And Stacy went with her instinct and had as much of Myra as she could. She plundered her, gulping and slurping feverishly with a watering mouth and pursed lips. Hungry for the taste of her, she persisted and learnt quickly what details were most appreciated.
Myra offered her gratitude for the freshman effort with a bath of renewed slickness for Stacy’s chin.
‘Oh fuck, Stacy. You’re going to make me come.’ Myra sounded surprised her orgasm was ushered in so quickly. It was just as much of a shock to Stacy that she delivered such an irresistible reason. And if she could bring her to the edge, then she could back her away and enjoy her rise all over again.
She slowed. Each lick now languished lightly on the surface of her, dancing with the tune of soft whimpers falling from Myra’s open mouth.
‘You bitch, you’re teasing me.’
Stacy grinned but her tongue remained on task. Myra grinned too, and focused on the flurrying caresses dismantling her. The more she forced her hips forward, the less she received from Stacy, until she couldn’t tell if she was only imagining the tickles of breath making her want to scream. Myra wasn’t used to feeling like this, so open. And in the end, that was more arousing than anything else.
She shuddered and contracted. The promise of Stacy’s mouth on her again haunted her senses and her need for its return was incorrigible. It was no matter that Stacy barely touched her now; Myra was careening over the edge after all and coming with a vengeance down her thighs.
That did it. Myra’s grunts proceeded into chuckles – incredulous about the entire event. Stacy began to laugh too, completely astounded by what she had just done.
‘Hon, you made my day.’
Stacy only smiled. ‘Let’s get back out there. We still have work to do.’
The lunch crowd had broken up and the two picked up where they left off with the decorations, feeling very much in the giving spirit.
As far as Todd was concerned, community service remained an important part of Stacy’s life. And as in the past, her visits to the soup kitchen continued to be rewarding ... in more ways than one.