Date: Sat, 16 Oct 2004 20:21:02 -0700 (PDT) From: ybother1122@yahoo.com Subject: Good Girl 8 This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or C) can't read, you should really stop here. Why not get into counseling or a group? Really, we're all worried about you. If you liked (or hated) this story, please drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you read here too seriously, we certainly didn't. Denise and Heather sat on the large patio behind Sabine Maas' home overlooking the ocean. They had covered each other with scented oils and the air was rich with flowers and salt air. A pitcher of passion fruit rum punch sat sweating on a small table. Denise sat up and reached for the tanning oil, "There are going to be a lot of people coming to the party tonight, you've got to be careful not to burn." She squeezed out a dollop of the fragrant oil into her hand and started to knead it into Heather's back. After covering her shoulders and lower back she untied the top of the girl's bikini and pulled it out from under the girl. Heather jumped up in surprise, allowing Denise's slick fingers to run over her breasts. They both giggled, sharing a quick kiss before Heather lay back down. Denise shrugged her own off and dragged her palms over her own breasts before returning to the girl. More oil was poured. "Do you remember what happened with you, Solique and Jaime at the last party?" Heather blushed, "Not likely to forget that soon." "Well, there's going to be a lot of that tonight," Denise said, now straddling the young girl. "Aside from some canapés, drinks and conversation, that's going to be the most of what we're doing tonight." Heather thought about that a second. Her memories of the drunken three way on the beach with Sabine's lovers were a bit hazy. She remembered swimming naked, opening her thighs for Jaime then grinding her pussy against Solique's thigh while she rode him – but after that all she could remember was lying down and going to sleep. "A sex party?" Her voice had a toneless quality. "Yes, that's as good a description as any" Denise had moved further down and was rubbing the oil into Heather's slim thighs, rubbing her thumbs in to stimulate the muscles. "It's more like an annual get-together." A second passed before both broke out in gales of laughter. Denise rubbed tears from her eyes, "We're just a group of friends, from all over the world and this is what we do when we get together." Heather got up, poured the two of them fresh drinks, and sat down on the patio. "I've been meaning to ask you; how many others are there? I mean, who are you and Steven with, other than me?" "It's not structured, if that's what you mean," Denise said. "Every now and again we meet people who we'd like to take to bed. We agree about the conditions and make sure the other people know what the situation is. It's just something we like to do. I wouldn't even call it a hobby." Heather took a sip of her drink and lay back down. Denise immediately returned to stroking her thighs. She let her fingers luxuriate in the girl's ass, slowly kneading the back of the girl's blue bathing suit deeper into its cleft. "Was that what happened at the other party?" Heather asked. She had begun gently rolling her hips against the woman's hands. "Yes, you and Solique missed it." she said. "Jaime did as well as he could, but he had already put the two of you to bed." Heather remembered the outline of his face, framed by the clear moonlight, over hers as he worked his cock in and out of her. The pounding surf marked every third stroke. The thought caused the bloom of warmth building in her stomach to double. "You were the talk of the party, though." "What?" "The admiral and his wife fucked in front of you while you were sleeping," Denise said with an evil grin. "It was all we could do to keep her hands off you." "Really?" Heather wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "You needed your rest, poor dear," she said. "Sabine sketched you and Solique and left the door closed." Heather searched her memories. She woke late the morning after, alone with a headache and a dry tongue. Had she and Solique shared a bed that night? Her mind had wandered and she reined it in tightly, "She sketched us, while we slept?" Denise leaned down and lavished kisses all over Heather's neck, "It was incredible. You were both asleep but you ground against each other for the longest time. Your hands were locked on her breasts while you ground yourself against her ass." With that, she let her hands glide under Heather's suit and her fingers run over her bare backside. She pulled the suit down to the girl's knees and poured more oil onto her. Denise let her fingers run all over Heather's bare skin, swirling them around in the slickness between her thighs. Heather sighed and arched her back, allowing Denise better access. Since their first encounter, she had learned things about Denise Lindeman. Denise was worldly, intelligent and could finger her to orgasm in minutes. Denise's fingers slid into the cleft between the girl's buttocks and started to gently circle the crinkled opening of her anus (eliciting a startled cry from her) when they heard the click of approaching heels. The two turned to see a pair of women standing at the far side of the porch. Heather immediately thought of the taller one as "statuesque." She had never had use for the word and it came, fully-formed, into her mind. The woman was six feet tall, brunette, wearing a tailored suit that said "serious money." It was a double-breasted pinstripe with a skirt that nearly bound her knees together. She had the kind of hourglass figure Heather only saw in 40s films. Her eyes were a dark brown that approached black. Next to her was a shorter woman in a dark, single-breasted suit with a very short skirt. Her hair was a chocolate brown that faded to blonde at the ends which dusted the top of her ass. She wore a pair of very expensive sunglasses and carried a leather briefcase. Denise smiled, "Catherine, you look wonderful." The tall woman nodded, "This look costs, you wouldn't believe what health clubs are charging in Manhattan." Denise got up from the towel and leaned forward on her tiptoes for a careful kiss ("oily!") from Catherine. They beamed at each other for a second before Denise looked over at the other woman, "And this is?" Catherine stroked the other woman's hair, "This is my Kitten." "She's very pretty." "Is this your new friend?" Catherine asked. Denise beckoned for Heather to come closer, which she reluctantly did. Slowly, nudity was becoming less and less of an issue for her. "This is Heather, she's our babysitter." Heather looked up at the woman's near-black eyes and felt immediate pressure. She was magnetic, a force of nature. She spoke after a short pause, "It's so wonderful to meet you, I've heard so much. Kitten, greet her for me." The shorter woman put down her briefcase and unbuttoned her coat to reveal bare, c-cup breasts. The slide of a zipper at her left hip swept away the short skirt to reveal an equally bare, completely shaven mound. She was muscled like a gymnast, taut and lean. She took Heather's face in her hands and kissed her deeply, pressing her crotch against her oily thigh. Heather took the kiss with a little surprise. Kitten lingered with her tongue fluttering in her mouth for a second before pulling away. Catherine stroked Kitten's hair. "I've spent the last 10 hours in a Lear, I'm getting a shower," Catherine said. She took Kitten by the chin, "You stay here and do as you're asked. Remember; nothing for you." She nodded and began putting suntan oil on herself. Denise nodded to Catherine and started working the oil into Kitten's skin. Heather started to help, rubbing from her shoulders to brush against her breasts. The woman took her wrist, removed her sunglasses and looked into Heather's eyes. "None for me thanks." Her eyes were vaguely almond-shaped, slightly Asian, but they were large and deep blue. It was hard to tell where she was from. She finished rubbing the lotion over herself. Denise gently guided Heather back down onto the towel and started rubbing the girl's ass again. Heather cooed and raised her hips slightly to meet her hands. Kitten wound her hair into a quick bun and lay down on her side next to Denise. She laid both her hands on Heather's ass, gently spread her, and fluttered her tongue across the girl's anus. "Oohh, ahh!" Heather's entire body seized up and her eyes flew open at the feeling of something hot and wet touching her most intimate place. She started to squirm away, feeling very vulnerable and afraid despite the shivers of pleasure Kitten was causing to run up and down her spine. Denise had discarded her bikini top and was pulling her bottoms off when Heather started pulling away. She laid soft but firm hands on the girl's shoulders, holding her down. "Don't," Heather pleaded. "Make her s-stop." "Why, honey?" Denise asked, massaging her breasts and back at the same time. "It's d-dirty," she said. The woman suppressed a smile. She had been a witness for every sexual state of mind Heather had ever experienced and she could see the telltale signs of her arousal. She thought the look of shock, and fear, on her face was precious. "But Kitten only wants the best for you," Denise said as she positioned herself in front of Heather, spreading her legs and getting closer to the panting girl. "Why do you think it's dirty? You're obviously enjoying yourself." Denise saw Kitten's hands. The nails were obviously manicured, but they were short nearly to the quick. Her cuticles were immaculate, no hangnails. Kitten was flawless. No rough skin or hard edges to scrape against the softest or most sensitive flesh. Denise imagined the woman touched nothing heavier than her briefcase, lest she risk a callus. She had to admire Catherine; the woman was a dedicated perfectionist and her Kitten was a pure reflection of that force of will. If the exotic girl's appearance ever differed by the merest fraction, Catherine would spot it in a second. Kitten's tongue swirled around the small opening, exerting soft and terrible pressure on Heather. She snaked a hand in between the girl's thighs and gently parted the lips of her pussy to worry her clit, forcing new cries out of her. Her face was anguished, wracked by pleasure and guilt, "No, I'm not." She looked up along Heather's spine, "Miss Heather thinks a nice girl doesn't let someone play with her ass. Is she religious?" With that, she began to worm her forefinger into Heather's bottom, eliciting a new set of whimpering cries from her. Pivoting on her free hand, she turned over in a single balletic movement onto her back, "I once met a churchy girl who demanded I call her a different name when we were in bed. That way she could finger herself guilt-free when she watched the videos of her fucking my ass afterward." Kitten locked her tongue against Heather's clit and started lapping hard. She gently worked another finger into her ass. She knew from the shivering and complaining the girl was very new, perhaps only a few months, to sex. Heather was horrified. A strange woman, one she had only met minutes ago, had her fingers where no one, counting Denise, Steven and every doctor since her birth had been. She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn around and say she was being hurt, being harmed. Heather felt like crying because she couldn't honestly say either of those things. Denise guided the girl's head down to her wet folds and coaxed her to start licking. Because she didn't want to say anything else, Heather dipped her tongue into her employer and clamped her eyes shut. Write us at ybother1122@yahoo.com.