The following story is an alternative look at sexuality. It contains references to lesbian sex, erotic thoughts, sexual acts, and erotic anatomy. It is graphic in its description. This story is not meant for anyone under the age of eighteen (18) and the author will not be held liable for anyone under that age accessing the file. The content is fictitious, meant only for the entertainment of those who find erotica exciting and fulfilling. No intention is made to relate events of real life people to the theme of this story. If the reader has had an experience similar to this, good for her.

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©2006 Thomas Wright

Jazz (Thomas Wright)

…the moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her. Never in my life had I felt as attracted to a person as I did at that moment. The navy blue blouse clung to her body as the perspiration pasted the very fibers of the fabric to her form bringing out the fullness of her breasts and the tautness of her nipples. Blond hair fell moistly down her face and strands clung to her sweated brow. The highest cheekbones made rosy by the summer’s tremendous heat and her lips, full and delectable accentuated what I thought was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

There is no doubt that I am a fantastic judge of women. I am a woman myself. Talia is my name and I am a fashion photographer’s personal assistant. Photography is not my strong suit, but organization is. My present employer is Frederique Marconi, the foremost expert in the photography of the female form. His expertise surpasses all of his competitors and ninety percent of the time his work has been accepted by fashion magazines in preference to all other submitters. My job is simple; keep him straight. Before me, nothing; after me, a star.

Marconi’s reputation has kept me with a steady stream of the most beautiful “one-nighters” anyone has ever had the luxury to sample. Never in my life, especially when I was a young girl admiring the other girls in the locker room at school, would I have imagined that one day I would make love to over a hundred luscious beauties. They have not all been models either. Some have been the model’s assistants, but as everyone knows, to get into this business one must look the part. Fat girls, although scrumptious in their own right, have a hard time finding a place in the fashion industry.

To give you an idea, that rule applies to me as well. I am model tall, meaning I am almost six feet tall. There is ample hair on my head in the shade of midnight black and it flows halfway down my back. I was born that way and have always thanked the almighty for it as it has opened many doors for me in the past. Many girls say they envy my hair, because it is silky and healthy. My eyes are very dark brown, which helps to accent the black hair. There is natural coloring on my eyelids and my eyelashes are long and thick so there is no need for mascara or eyeliner. My skin is smooth, practically blemish free. I mean I get the occasional zit, but I have never had an acne problem. So I wear as little makeup as I can get away with. I have an ample bosom and most of my lovers have told me they are perfect. Everything else, however, is normal and as far as being a model, one has to have a slightly different look to be noticed by the fashion world.

I attended college at a women’s Ivy League school and majored in business management. I minored in fashion design, a fancy I had when I was growing up. My goal was to manage my own design shop. I would use my natural ability and creative nature to develop new styles and I would use the degree to help me keep the money straight. During my climb, however, I met Marconi and my status froze. I have been with him for over five years. I do intend to finish my goal of becoming a fashion designer one day, but for now I am satisfied with sampling all of the lovely beauties that have become available to me through my present occupation.

Who knew? I was a simple little girl, never having a want for anything in my life and never really wanting more than I had. My father had given me all I had ever wanted and until I was twelve, he was always around. One night, as my father was coming home from work, a drunk, driving one of those bus-like recreational vehicles, plowed into him from the rear, rupturing the gas tank, and blowing the car and RV up. I was suddenly fatherless and as my mother was an alcoholic, motherless as well. As I moved into my teens, I began staying at friends’ houses simply to get away from my mother’s abusive nature.

One of my friends, Julie, invited me over to spend a week with her during the spring break of our junior year. My sixteenth birthday had occurred just over a week before and Julie saw how bad my mother treated me. She asked her mother if I could stay with them to get away from my mother. Her mother agreed and made the arrangements with mine. We were both surprised when my mother agreed to let me stay. Normally she would have screamed at me, told me to pack my bags if I didn’t like living with her, and ushered me to the door. I would always end up staying, being both embarrassed and ashamed, and would always end up getting beat for asking. The thrill I had when she said yes and didn’t give a fight was unbelievable.

Our first night together was all talk. We talked about almost everything: the weather, school, boys we liked, my mom. What we didn’t talk about was sex. I really wondered when that subject would turn up, but it didn’t. The second night it was the same. We talked about everything, except sex. It was as if we were both purposely avoiding the discussion. Finally, on the third night I asked her about it.

“Julie, why haven’t we talked about what every girl that sleeps over with another girl talks about?” Now that I think about it, I really didn’t know what everyone else talked about, but it was a good way of getting the conversation started. I don’t know why I felt it was important to me to stress the issue or to even bring it up, it just felt unnatural not to talk about it.

“We have, haven’t we?” she replied.

“No there is one obvious subject that we both seem to be avoiding and I can’t explain why. I think it’s totally weird that we haven’t talked about it. We have both been in the conversations when we’ve been to pajama parties. I know because I have been to all of the ones you have.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate,” she said.

“Why not? I mean we are curious about what we each think about the subject, correct?”

“I would prefer not to talk about it.” Julie was embarrassed, but I couldn’t tell the reason why.

“Why are you all of a sudden so hush-hush about something we have talked about a lot with other girls? Why are you blushing? I can remember some pretty wild things you told us about.”

“They were lies,” she said meekly.

“What were lies?” I asked holding her chin in my hand to lift it so I could see her eyes.

“My fantasies about boys were lies. I just told everyone so that they would think I was normal.”

I got a funny feeling in my stomach when she said the part about boys. She had been pretty adamant about wanting to have a dick up her as soon as possible. I looked into her deep, suddenly moist eyes and tried to find the answer, but I was not expecting the one she gave me. Her movement was quick, the kiss was a peck, but it left a burning on my lips that would haunt me for months. When she returned to her previous position, she began crying.

“I like girls,” she said through her bubbling.

I was somehow not as surprised as I probably should have been, but it did make my stomach feel even funnier. I looked at her I think as expressionless and blank as the moment made it. Dumbfounded would be the phrase I could relate to it now, but then I was simply speechless. I put my fingers on her cheek and tried to wipe the tears away, probably thinking I was trying to console her. There was a moment when I wanted to leave, to get away, to run, fast. All I did, however, was sit there, contemplating what had just happened. Then I did something just as strange. I cradled her face with my hands, leaned forward and brought my lips to hers. It started as a simple kiss, but then nature took over. I opened my mouth slightly to get a breath and the next thing I knew we were laying together on the bed French kissing and dry humping each other.

To say I had lost control would be an understatement. Before long, we were naked and I tasted the nectar of another girl’s pussy. My tongue licked and my mouth moved from place to place. First my tonguing was tentative, but then I was exploring the folds of her sex. My tongue lapped long and hard. I tried to imagine it was a dick so I would stab it into her pussy as deep as I could. Before long she was making loud noises, moans and such. I stopped briefly to tell her to control it, which she did rather quickly. Her parents were only two rooms down. If we got too loud someone would come to investigate.

It was if I was insatiable. I simply could not get enough. Julie stopped me briefly and told me to turn so she could get at my pussy and soon we were locked in a tight sixty-nine. When she entered the folds of my pussy with her tongue, I almost exploded. The nerve endings of my entire being focused on the point where her tongue touched me. Electric shocks occurred each time she nibbled, mouthed, tongued or touched me. I had never experienced anything like it, ever.

My orgasm snuck up on me. The idea had never even crossed my mind, so when I began to convulse with the extreme pleasure that encased my being, I was slightly scared that I would not be able to recover. It was a sneaky little thing, one that decided to start easy and then build to disrupt ever fiber of my nerve endings. One moment I was really getting into it, the next was like I was on a roller coaster.

I stopped to catch my breath, but Julie pulled my head to her snatch. Her time had not come. Was she in for a surprise. Hers happened like mine, slow and steady. By the time I was finished, her legs were slapping the side of my face uncontrollably and her scream, not muffled this time, let out wildly.

The door snapped open and her mother walked in, her father not far behind. They surveyed the scene quickly and stood shocked at the two naked bodies laying exhausted on the bed. I could care less. I had found a new way of looking at life. Her mother pushed Julie’s father out the door, closed it and then walked over to the bed. She threw the covers over us and then walked back to the door, mumbling something about talking in the morning. The door opened and closed softly. She was gone. The rest of the night was spent talking about what had happened and how we were going to explain ourselves.

When we walked down for breakfast, we found out that her father had already gone to work. We figured this would be such a big thing that he would have delayed his leaving, but undoubtedly he figured his wife would talk to us without embarrassment. We sat down at the table not saying a word and waited for the lecture that would surely come. It didn’t.

“Good morning, girls,” her mother started. “I know you are famished after what you apparently experienced last night.”

We did not say anything. Her mother was a beautiful lady, auburn red hair, the greenest of eyes, a figure that would turn the head of any man. Her high cheeks and full lips accented her face and I watched, slightly turned on, as she talked. There was no nervousness about her. As a matter of fact, she seemed very comfortable and natural.

“We thought one of you was hurt or we never would have opened the door. I will admit that we were shocked at first, but seeing that neither of you was hurt relieved us.”

“I want you to know that what you experienced last night was a very natural thing to happen between two friends. I myself experienced it when I was young. Your father, Julie, had homosexual experiences when he was your age. We both have been there and it would be unacceptable for us to chastise you about what we both considered to be a critical part of our childhood. It helped us make the decision about whether we were going to be gay or straight.”

Julie and I both looked at each other and smiled slightly. Of course, as a child finding yourself caught at what you thought was terrible and sinful, you would expect to be yelled at. I was amazed at how her mother had taken it and was even more amazed at the admission that she had lesbian sex and her husband had homosexual sex when they were teenagers. The old cliché “died and gone to heaven” seemed to apply in this instance. Julie later told me that she was even more astonished to find out about her parents. I guess she was.

One of the biggest perks was the fact that they did not send me on my way. As a matter of fact, her mother called mine and asked if I could simple live with them until the end of the term, six weeks away. I guess mother found an excuse to party, because she told Julie’s mom that if she wanted me to stay for the entire summer, she didn’t mind. It would give her an opportunity to get her head screwed back on straight.

We were given the green light by her parents and we wondered why. There was no reason to question their motives, so Julie and I began a love affair that was to last for over three years, until we had both graduated high school. It would not prevent us from dating and experiencing sex with other people, but when we were home with nothing else to do, our bodies were ours to explore.

Frank, Julie’s father, insisted that I call him by his first name and Nancy, Julie’s mother would often talk to us about our experiences. At first it was difficult, but soon enough we opened up to tell them our feelings and what we did when we made love to each other. It seemed to turn them on so much, especially when we went in to graphic detail.

One evening, Frank and Nancy asked to watch. We were both eighteen at the time and decided since they had been nice enough about the whole deal, we would do it. After a minimal amount of preparation, we began slowly making love on the floor of their family room. Frank had brought out a video camera, asked if he could make a movie, and proceeded to capture the whole thing on tape. Watching that tape, even to this day, is such a turn on. They gave both of us a copy and kept one for themselves.

After two or three sessions like that one, Frank and Nancy asked us to video them while they were making love. We heartily agreed and were treated to two people that were fantastic lovers. For over an hour they screwed and we videotaped. When Frank penetrated her for the first time, she looked directly at me and winked. I had no idea what she meant, but was soon so lost in their lovemaking to care.

Nancy approached me one day while Julie was at work. I was sunbathing in the back yard, nude as usual, and she walked up and asked if she could put some suntan oil on my back. Knowing I needed it, I said yes. Her hands were so soft. They manipulated my back with an experience that only comes with age. My body got goose bumps all over it.

“Frank and I have wanted to ask you to share our bed, but were afraid you would be offended,” she stated quietly.

I turned over quickly and looked at her surprised. “I don’t understand.”

“We have told Julie of our desire and she said if we could convince you, she had no problem with it. We have grown very fond of you and we want to make love to you.”

To say I was shocked is an understatement. These were two people who I considered my surrogate parents and they were going to try to seduce me. It didn’t seem natural, but it was strangely appealing. I had often wondered what Nancy would taste like or what Frank’s dick would feel like. I agreed.

Nancy began to massage lower and lower on my front until her fingers were buried deep in my cunt. She began to rub slowly up and down, eventually caressing my hooded clit. I succumbed to the wonderful feeling with such abandon that soon I was convulsing with an outrageous orgasm. I leaned up in my throes of passion and kissed the lips of my lover’s mother. Our tongues intertwined and moved to the rhythm of her ministrations. This was sex with an experienced lover and she was still clothed.

As I calmed from my orgasm, I lay my head on her lap. She stroked my hair and told me to expect more of the same. I sat up and once again kissed her deeply. She rose and told me to follow her, which I did, much like a little puppy dog would. We went into her bedroom and she began to undress very slowly, undulating her hips as if there was music playing. There was an opportunity for me to leave, but I was too far gone. What would Julie think, I thought?

Nancy held her hand out to me and led me to the bathroom. The bathroom was a place of such opulence. No other place in their home could compare. The walls were ceramic; the floors, hunter green marble tiles. A rather large mirror hung over a vanity topped with matching marble from the floor. The mirror was surrounded by lights and looked as if it would be suitable for the fanciest of movie stars. Two sinks were sunken into the marble counter top, each having a golden faucet that was artistic in design and immaculately clean. On the far wall was a door and through the door one could see the commode, separated for the obvious reasons. An oversized shower was set into one corner. It looked as if it could hold four people easily. The most impressive point in the bathroom, however, was the oversized sunken bathtub. It was huge and had jets for massaging the occupant. Two faucets, one on each side of the tube, matched those on the sink. I was totally in awe of the whole room, the bath tub really hitting me as special.

Nancy reached down and turned on the water. After making sure the water was the correct temperature, she stood up and walked to the vanity. She sat on the edge and motioned me to her. Still following her every direction, I walked slowly and as seductively as I could. When I reached her, she pulled me close and kissed me again. I reveled at the feel of her naked skin on mine, the press of her breasts to mine, the heat of her breath, her overppowering smell. I was lost in this mature woman. She could have told me to do anything at that moment and I would have followed her instruction blindly. Her hand went to my shoulder and she gently pushed me down. I got on my knees and slowly spread her legs. I was looking into Nancy’s pussy with a lust I had never experience. Soon, I was lapping at her dripping snatch for all I was worth. The taste was incredible; the scent unbelievable. The more I licked and suck and kissed, the more she pulled me into her, until I felt like I was being suffocated. I remember thinking that heaven must feel similar. Nothing in my mind at the time could have been any better.

I was accomplished enough at cunnilingus that soon Nancy was gyrating all over the counter. I would hit her clitoris; she would throw her head back. I would lick up and down her slit; she would shudder in complete abandon. I would put my fingers into her throbbing wet pussy; she would move against my hand as if she could not get enough. It did not take long and I knew as soon as it washed over her. The amount of lubrication tripled and I knew she had cum. Oh, she tasted so good!

What was I to do? I loved the daughter, but I was having tremendous sex with the mother. Did I want to go back? Could I really think of nothing else anytime I made love with anyone else? Maybe, I thought, I should invite Julie to join us. That would make for an even bigger turn-on in my mind. Mother and daughter making love to me; me watching them as they discovered an incestuous….. I digress, but from what I just said one could gather I wanted the best of both worlds. I decided I would try to set it up.

In the meantime, I was going to finish enjoying Nancy who at this point had led me into the very soothing and warm water. The feeling was intense. As sexually excited as I was, every nerve ending in my body was focused on external stimuli. The tepid water lapped at my skin making my body shiver with delight. Nancy’s hand reached around as if on automatic and brushed my left breast finding the nipple and teasing it gently. My mind was a whirl; I really didn’t know where to turn. She reached around with her other hand and did the same with my right breast. Soon she was gently massaging both of them causing me to have a sensation I had never experienced.

To explain the difference between mother and daughter, one has to have a reference point. My reference point was my breasts. Daughter, my dearest Julie, did not pay a whole lot of attention to my breasts, nibbling and suckling only long enough to tease until she was ready to eat my snatch. Mother, on the other hand, played with my breast, kneading and massaging them until I was so turned on that when she did decide to eat me, it would not take me long to orgasm. I had to teach Julie this new, wonderful technique. Nancy had a way with my breasts. It was as if she could not get enough of them. I did not realize there were so many different ways to manipulate tits to get different effects. Nancy seemed to know them all. I had been converted from a “get down to the business end immediately” type of gal to a “let’s slow it down and enjoy the feeling for a while” type of gal.

What was I to do? Nancy was making me feel as if there were no tomorrows, the gentleness of her ministrations saturating my soul with an unbelievable array of emotions and desires. Julie and I had only learned enough to allow us to orgasm. It was sexual, pure and simple, the meat of the experience: tongue on labia, clit and vaginal canal, lick for all you were worth and let friction do its thing. The feeling of intenseness that we felt together was our love for one another. I began to imagine, as Nancy performed those wonderful techniques on me, what it would be like if Julie and I learned to make love to each other like Nancy was doing to me. Our love and the tremendous physical attention would no doubt have us climaxing for hours. I needed to find a way to convince my lover to try to learn from her mother, watch her if she did nothing else, but participate so she would know how it felt. I didn’t know how the incest thing would play out in either of their minds, but I do know that I had formulated a plan.

The next few minutes were lost to the sensual massage that Nancy continued as she turned me around. Almost as if she were a man, she lifted me to the edge of the tub and began kissing around my navel, working her way down to the Venusian treasure dripping with honey. The amazing thing was that everything Nancy did to me, she did thoroughly, just enough, mind you, not to get boring. She made me begin to anticipate her every move and when she didn’t follow what I thought she would do, I was sent even further under her spell. At one point her warm, moist breath crossed my clitoris. I anticipated that she was about to lick there. Guess what, she licked the inside of my thigh with a light tongue. When I thought she would continue, her breath would graze my clitoris again. There is no way to understand how crazy she was making me. I wanted to grab her head and make it plunge into my depths, but I realized if I did, she would probably not have pleasure making me writhe with erotic anguish. I wanted so to cum.

When it happened, it was gigantic. The orgasm could only be described as phenomenal. I had no idea pleasure could make you almost pass out, but when I came, I know I went into convulsions that could easily have been diagnosed as an epileptic seizure. This was extremely different from my first orgasm with Julie. Imagine every fiber of every nerve ending teased to its breaking point, electric, if you can picture it. When release came, it was as if all of the static charge built up inside me went through those receptors while trying to make it to freedom. Muscles that had gotten so tight from the anticipation of what was about to happen, suddenly released and caused my body to abruptly relax. It had the effect of amplifying the orgasm to the point where pleasure ceased to exist and panic set in. Of course, it was only a temporary feeling and soon I was at a level of intense erotic pleasure I had never before imagined. As the release flooded over me, I realized that I had to experience this intensity every time I had an orgasm or I would find myself very disappointed. I learned that there were orgasms and then there were earth-shakers. Later in my life I would learn tantric techniques that would mimic the orgasm experienced on that day. They would be good earth-shakers, but they would only be a fraction of what Nancy gave me.

Julie and I would try, but we would never attain that level. As far as Frank was concerned, we never did do the nasty and I really doubt that he could have brought me to that level. Nancy and I tried a couple more times to reach the intensity she had given me, but was never able to attain that level again.

I think the disappointment that I felt at not being able to give Julie that kind of orgasm and she, me was what led to our breakup when we went off to college. I will always find those times with Julie near and dear to my heart; she was, after all, my first “true” love. I will, however, always feel regret that it was her mother and not her that sent me into my search for more earth-shakers.

…I looked at this most gorgeous model coming towards me with anticipation. The moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her. Never in my life had I been attracted to a person as I felt at that moment. The navy blue blouse clung to her body as the perspiration attached itself to its very fibers of the fabric, bringing out the fullness of her breasts and the tautness of her nipples. Blond hair fell moistly down her face and strands clung to her sweated brow. The highest cheekbones made rosy by the summer’s tremendous heat and her lips, full and delectable accentuated what I thought was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen... could she be the one?