Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2010 22:02:18 -0500
From: david dubois <rainstreet@live.com>
Subject: Rose in Bloom (FF, SC)

Greetings and thanks for checking out my stories.

My work is entirely fiction and intended as adult entertainment.  If you
are under-aged, please exit this site.

I don't include children in my erotic work and I don't write for children.

R/S


                               Rose in Bloom


Rose awoke with a start.  Momentarily confused, she blinked a few times and
wiped the drying saliva from around her mouth.  She was aware of giggling
from behind her then realized she was in class.  Glancing around furtively,
she attempted to re-orient herself.  "Spanish class, Mrs. Ramirez, uh, 3rd
period, thank God."

There didn't seem to be any amused gazes or fingers pointed her way.  She
was relieved that she hadn't managed to become the class focal point by her
snoozing.  She felt a hand touch her shoulder.  Turning her head to
acknowledge Leah, she heard the whisper, "late night, Rosy"?  Rose nodded.
She then pondered the question, wondering if this was indeed the cause of
her apparent drowsiness.

What had happened last night?  Strangely, she drew a blank.  Rose
frequently indulged in very detailed, erotic fantasy scenarios which,
though time consuming, had never resulted in memory lapses.  She thought
through the events leading up to where she drew a blank.  "I saw Marcie at
the park after school.  I remember being excited cause I'd missed her in
P.E.  What happened then?"  They had talked awhile.  Then Marcie had kissed
her. No, well yes, she had kissed her, followed by licking her lips, which
was like the most erotic thing she could have done.  Rose had responded
eagerly but then felt embarrassed, the park being very public.  Rose had no
clear recollection following this.  There were a multitude of images, like
a movie played fast forward.  This made no sense to her so Rose made the
decision to let it go.

She began listening to Mrs. Ramirez, who was reciting Spanish verbs
ad-nauseam, seemingly oblivious to the lack of interest displayed by most
of the students.  Rose had often considered the attractive teacher for a
participant in one of her private fantasy plays.  She studied the woman's
physique.  Rose guessed that she was in her late thirties, possibly forty.
She had always assumed that she was of Hispanic heritage, though her skin
tone was exceptionally dark.  Rose squinted her eyes, visualizing the woman
wearing nothing but a white bra and panties.

When fantasizing, her taste in underwear was specific.  Rose loved vintage
lingerie .  She had a photo collection of vintage lingerie models gathered
from the Internet.  Her movie idols were Dorothy Lamour, Betty Grable and
Greta Garbo.  The fascination with these women had sparked her interest in
lingerie of those time periods.  She particularly liked Greta Garbo and
felt something of a kinship with her.  She knew that the actress had been a
lesbian.  In addition, she had strived to live a private life. "I just want
to be left alone", was a statement made by the star.  Though the comment
had been misunderstood and misquoted by the press, Rose found it endearing
and it intensified her fascination.

These thoughts were passing through Rose's mind while she watched her
Spanish teacher's body, still clad in bra and panties.  She noticed that
Mrs Ramirez was facing her.  Shifting her gaze to meet the teacher's, Rose
realized with horror that she was speaking to her.  She was nudged from
behind before responding.  "Pardon?"  The dark, almost black eyes
penetrated her.  Had she noticed Rose's salacious gaze?

"I asked if you were feeling OK.  You look very flushed."

Rose swallowed then managed to respond, "I'm OK.  It's kind of hot in
here...isn't it?"  She looked around quickly for confirmation.  There was
none.

"Perhaps you should visit the nurse."  Rose had to will her gaze to remain
on the teachers face. Her eyes seemed soft and inviting, imploring Rose to
continue her observations.

She heard herself reply, "I'm sure I'll be fine, thank you."  The teacher
held her gaze for what seemed like forever. Rose wondered if she was
communicating something besides normal concern.  She dismissed this as her
lascivious and overactive imagination. The teacher finally broke eye
contact and returned to the front of the class. As she walked, Rose's eyes
were fixed on the dark strip between her hips. "God", Rose thought, "what
an ass."

There was another nudge from behind followed by Leah's voice.  "You bad,
bad girl. You should be ashamed."

Rose jumped. "Wh what for?" She replied, feeling her throat tighten.

"You wrote on your Spanish book," Leah said.

"Oh, yeah I know, aren't I terrible?" Rose replied, breathing a sigh of
relief. The guilt reaction was silly but automatic.  She looked down at her
artwork, plainly visible in purple marker.  It was an indication of endless
hours spent daydreaming during previous Spanish classes.

Leah's flirtation's inspired Rose to reply with similar coyness. She turned
and whispered, "do you think I should be punished."?

There was a pause, then a whispered reply, "absolutely you filthy slut".
Rose covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. This was typical repartee for
her and Leah.  Leah was straight, but she got a kick out of acting
otherwise.  She knew that Rose was a lesbian and totally accepted her.
Leah was one of a kind and Rose adored her.  Typically, Rose shied away
from friendships with straight girls.  She tended to become emotionally
involved easily and feared that she might have difficulty maintaining the
boundaries necessary for such a relationship.  Things were different with
Leah, however.

Though she was very cute in a cuddly sort of way, Rose had never been
attracted to Leah sexually.  Rose had considered the reason for this and
decided that Leah was the closest thing she had to a sister.  One of the
things that Rose loved about Leah was that she genuinely did not care what
people thought about her.  This was apparent in her playful behavior with
Rose.  Whether in class or other public place, her behavior was
unpredictable.  She sometimes flirted overtly with Rose, to the point of
outlandish at times.  Once, when they standing in the cafeteria line
chatting, Leah had paused in the middle of a sentence to take Rose in her
arms and kiss her full on the lips. Leah then resumed her conversation,
oblivious to the resulting commotion. Rose had stood with her mouth agape
for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Initially, Rose wasn't sure how to take Leah.  However, her curiosity had
been sparked enough for further exploration.  She discovered that Leah's
parents had been legitimate hippies, having met in the Haight Ashbury area
of San Francisco during the late sixties.

In addition to the broadminded attitudes about sex, drugs and spirituality,
Leah had adopted another elemental philosophy of that generation; fuck the
establishment!  Above all be yourself and don't follow anyone.  Leah loved
to shock people.  She invited confrontation.  Though her actions at times
embarrassed Rose, she secretly admired Leah, wishing that she had just a
little of her nerve.

Returning her attention to class, Rose was delighted to note that
Mrs. Ramirez under-attire had made a color transformation from white to
burgundy, which complemented her mahogany skin tone perfectly.  A clear
indication of this was the warm dampness suddenly occurring between Rose's
legs.  This development was a temptation for her to ease into a tasty
fantasy. However, before she had the opportunity, the buzzer sounded,
postponing such pleasures for later. Grabbing her belongings, she joined
the throng of escaping students.   Rose stood in front of her locker,
trying in vain to recall the combination to the lock.  This was ridiculous!
She had used the same locker since the ninth grade.  Lately, her mind
seemed to be on vacation much of the time.  She was aware of an odd
phenomenon which had began a few months ago.  At times, it was as if she
were another person, watching her body from outside herself.  When in this
state, she was only an observer.  She neither controlled nor took
responsibility for Rose's actions.

"Seventeen, fourteen, three" came a voice from her right.

"Huh?  Oh, thanks, Judy."  She quickly spun the dial to the correct
numbers.  She jerked the handle up and the door flew open.

"Rosy, your such a ditz.  What would you do without me?"  Judy's locker was
on the other side of the one next to Rose.

"I dunno Ju Ju.  Guess I'd be sleeping alone."  This was a joke.  The girls
had known each another for years.

Rose tossed her books onto the upper shelf.  It was lunch time but she
didn't feel hungry.  She stood, pondering this, while Judy fumbled with
something in her locker.  Rose studied her body peripherally.

Judy was from Nigeria, having moved with her family to the states when she
was ten.  She had the darkest complexion Rose had ever seen.  Rose found
women with dark skin very erotic.  She thought that this might be because
her own skin tone was so light.  Her whole family was fair skinned with
blue eyes and brownish blond hair.  How boring was that?  Judy wasn't
beautiful, or even especially pretty from a traditional standpoint.  To
Rose, however, she exuded a primitive, feminine sexuality that was
irresistible.  At about 5'5" and around 160 lbs, Judy would be considered
overweight by modern standards.  However, Rose knew that these standards
were basically bullshit and had very little to do with real life.  Rose was
uncertain of Judy's sexual orientation, though she assumed she was
straight.

Rose had become aware that most of the women she knew who were lesbian were
not attractive to her. It seemed that many lesbians didn't seem
particularly feminine.  She found this puzzling and frustrating in terms of
relationships.  It didn't make sense to her that a woman who desired the
companionship of another woman would instead choose to be with a woman who
was more like a man?

She knew that she defied the lesbian stereotype.  She had never enjoyed
sports or guy stuff.  Her tastes in clothing were strictly feminine and
generally vintage.  She loved frills and lace, though these were no longer
fashionable.  She often believed that she had been born 40 years too late.

Rose realized she had been standing in front of her open locker for several
minutes.  This was her lunch period and thirty minutes went fast.  Checking
the large clock at the end of the hall, she saw that 10 minutes had swept
by.  She slammed her locker shut and hurried down the hall to the
cafeteria.

Rose stopped at the restroom to wash her hands and check her hair and
makeup.  The odor hit her even before entering.  She slowly pushed open the
door and held it as it closed noiselessly.  The smell of shit was so
intense that Rose reached to pinch her nostrils shut without thinking.  She
then withdrew her hand, welcoming the scent.  It quickly penetrated her
senses and seeped into a deeper part of her being.  She was aware of a
disconnected feeling, then of a change in her perspective.

 The scene in the girls restroom was familiar, though the images seemed to
have a dreamlike quality.  Peering through what seemed like a mist, Rose
saw a pair of jean clad legs protruding beneath a stall door.  .

Feeling as if she were floating just above her body, she watched herself
move toward the stall.  Reaching the door, she knocked softly.  From her
vantage point, Rose didn't hear a response.  She saw her lips move and
utter something.  A moment later, she watched herself reach into her pocket
and withdraw some money.  She then handed the money to the owner of the
jean clad legs who was reaching underneath the door.  The hand taking the
money was dark skinned.

Rose watched as the door swung open.  She looked around furtively and
slipped into the stall.  She realized that she had re-joined her body. Judy
sat on the toilet, a questioning look on her face.  "I can't believe your
serious Rosy.  This has to be a joke."

Rose shook her head and stated solemnly, "no joke".

Judy giggled nervously, then said, "why are you doing this?  You're giving
me twenty dollars to let you clean me...with your tongue?  I've never heard
of such a thing, and I thought girls were crazy back home!  Are you sure
you want to do this, I mean, I just dropped some serious chow down there
and I'm not exactly what you would call fresh as a daisy."

With the same flat, determined tone, Rose replied, "Judy, I know you don't
understand this but I have dreams about doing this to you."

Judy emitted another giggle, "no way!"  Rose nodded, "way girl, now get
that fine nasty ass up and turn around."

The expression on Judy's face was one of incredulity though excitement.
"I've never even kissed a girl.  Does this count as making love?"

Rose smiled ruefully, "just think of me as fine quality toilet paper.  You
can call me charmin."

Judy reached out and took Rose's hand.  Rose helped her up from the toilet
and turned her around carefully.  "Put your hands against the wall there.
Now spread your legs.  Good."

Rose dropped to her knees, then realizing that she was too high, she sat on
the floor. She scooted forward between Judy's legs, her face level with the
black girls dark crack.

The smell issuing forth was more than pungent.  "What had she gotten
herself into?  The odor was overpowering, worse than she had ever smelled
in the girls locker room.  This was even worse than Marcie's diarrhea!"

Rose gazed admiringly at Judy's ass. It protruded beautifully, in the
physique common to many Afro American women. A generous coating of brown
slime coated both sides of her large crack.  The notion that she must be
crazy occurred to her. "And I'm paying for this", she thought.  Judy
spoke. "Are you Ok Rosy?  You don't have to do it.  I know it must be
really gross."

That settled it.  She was going for it.  Closing her eyes and taking a deep
breath, Rose opened her mouth and pressed her tongue against the girl's
right cheek.  The first taste gagged her and she was afraid her stomach
might revolt. Before it had the opportunity however, she continued with
long licks up and down Judy's rotund ass.  The girl jumped at the feel of
Rose's tongue.  Rose heard her breathing become heavy, her voice at times
making kind of a whimpering noise.  It was obvious she was getting into it
but trying very hard to keep it together.

Rose was not unfamiliar with the taste of shit.  Her first experience with
it had been in her own bathroom at home.  She had gobbled down one of her
own turds without a second thought. She felt there was another occasion but
was very hazy on the details. This however, seemed very different in that
that taste and smell were much stronger. It was almost too much to take and
if she thought about it too much she was certain she wouldn't be able to.

Opening her eyes, she realized that the girls cheeks were clean, glistening
with her saliva.  "Now for the dessert."  Rose thought.  Taking another
deep breath, She plunged her face and tongue into the deep, dark crack of
this girl from deep, dark Africa.  This peculiar thought passed through her
mind and elevated her lust as she eagerly lapped the girls waste from
between her cheeks.

Rose found the taste every bit as pungent as the smell but was so consumed
with the depravity of her actions that the thought of stopping never
entered her mind.  She spread Judy's cheeks with her hands and pressed her
face deep into the putrid gap.  The girls sizable ass engulfed Rose's face
nearly to her ears. She licked and sucked voraciously, her passion having
taken control.  She was in her private world and did not want to leave.

Suddenly, Rose felt a hand on the back of her head.  "Rosy, baby, that was
the lunch bell.  People will start coming in the restroom."

Rose pulled back, allowing Judy to pull up and fasten her jeans.  "Huh,
what?" She felt very disoriented.

Judy whispered, "We need to get to class.  That was incredible.  I feel so
clean and fresh now.  Thanks... Charmin." Judy reached and slid the door
lock open.  She had to step around Rose to exit the stall. She stopped at a
sink to wash her hands and check her face in the mirror.  Without another
word, she pulled open the door and exited.

Rose felt in a state of shock. She was kneeling in front of a toilet in the
girls restroom at school and she wasn't certain why. What demented part of
her would even conceive of such a depraved act?  Another thought entered
her mind. Since she had paid Judy, was it considered prostitution?

She heard the door open and girls talking.  She quickly reached up, closed
and locked the stall door.  A sudden sense of familiarity flushed through
her. She had experienced something very similar to this, recently.  She
rose and sat on the toilet. While puzzling over the deja vu, she wiped her
mouth with toilet paper.

The second bell rang, indicating she was late for class.  Normally, this
would send her into panic mode.  Currently, however, her responses were
deadened to the extreme. Anyway, P.E. was her next class and had been a
blow-off class for several weeks. The teacher had been AWOL and no
substitute had been assigned.  At times, the administration was a strange
and mysterious entity.

Rose was seriously considering the possibility that she was crazy. She was
having major memory lapses and black outs