tagLesbian SexCaitlin and Sara Ch. 05

Caitlin and Sara Ch. 05

bybabylez©

Finale

Please don't reproduce this copyrighted work without written permission.

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Of course all the actors in this script are of legal age.

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Note 1: Characters introduced in ‘The Seduction of Bobby's Mom' appear in this Chapter, but reading that story is not a prerequisite.

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Note 2: Kelley wrote just about the entire chapter. Due to health issues I won't be writing much, but I've tried to convince her to continue under the babylez moniker. If you like this story PLEASE write and tell her, but know in advance that she's not as warm and fuzzy as I am and she's terrible about returning emails. Thanks for your support and kind emails during the past year. Stacey


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"I know, but I don't want to leave you now. I want to stay here with you and fall asleep in your arms."

Sara smiled fondly at me. "All in good time, baby. I'm sure it'll all come together for us soon."

I accepted that statement on faith and then got up and put on my skirt and my top and headed out to the living room to find my flip-flops and back-pack. I turned around and smiled when I saw that Sara had followed me and hadn't even bothered to put on her robe.

"Now that's not fair, you think I'm going to wanna leave while you're standing at the door naked?" I said smiling, but I wasn't kidding.

She smiled at me and moved closer and she kissed me again. I put my arms around her neck and returned the kiss with even more intensity. At that moment I think I would have climbed into her body if I could have. Then I felt her arms pull my skirt up so that we were now slowly grinding our pussies together, and I thought I was about to melt. She looked down at me and gave me that sensual smile that makes me weak-kneed.

"I do NOT want you to leave either, baby. I even forgot to feed you my not-so-famous spaghetti. But if you don't skedaddle right now your momma might come over here looking for you again, and this time she might even take her carrot cake back."

"Sara Martin, I hope you know that by rubbing your pussy against me like that you're making it nearly impossible for me to leave."

Just as we started to laugh at our predicament there was a knock at the door. Instinctively we separated and looked in that direction.

"Well, I guess timing is everything. There's your mother now, but I'm surprised she didn't just come right in." Sara said.

I turned and looked at her. "I think I locked the door when I came in earlier. It's kind of a subconscious thing I do, since I spend a lot of time alone in the house at night when Mom's working."

I grabbed my backpack and we started towards the door. I stopped almost immediately and looked at Sara with a curious grin on my face and I pointed at her body.

"Umm . . . are you going to answer the door like that?"

Sara looked down at her naked body and then back at me. "Let me get this straight. Your mother has already seen me on my knees in your kitchen licking her daughter's pussy. And tonight we've agreed to let her watch us have sex - AGAIN. Is now really the best time for me to develop any false modesty?"

It was a good point. We turned and reached the front door together. As Sara unlocked it, I flipped on the switch for the porch light as she opened the door. For a moment the look of shock on our faces was undeniable. Sara finally managed to speak.

"Greg, what the hell are YOU doing here?"

I looked at Sara's husband standing on the porch outside the door and then I quickly looked back at Sara. Her gaze was still fixed on Greg and it was clear she was anything but pleased by his unannounced arrival. I had never seen a look like that on Sara's face before and I could only hope that I would never be the target of it in the future.

They stared at each other for several seconds without either one uttering a word. I didn't know whether to leave or stay, so I just froze in my tracks and waited for Sara to give me some direction.

"Well Sara, up until your phone call yesterday morning I thought I was going to be living here too. For God's sake, we've been married for more than five years and you decide to end it all with a damn voice mail message," he said disdainfully.

Then the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He looked at his wife and seemed to realize that she was naked, and then he looked at me, and then at her again. All of a sudden I wanted to just disappear and I was sure that if Greg had a wish right now I probably would do exactly that.

I've dated several guys in my life and unlike some card-carrying lesbians I don't hate guys at all. I think I can even remain objective when I look at them and differentiate between the attractive ones and the . . . well, the others. Now as I stared at Sara's husband I can see that there really was a third category of guys out there.

Greg Martin was nearly a foot taller than I was, so I'm guessing he's at least six and a half feet tall. He had an athletic frame, in that his waist was fairly narrow, yet he seemed to have a very muscular chest. His hair was dark brown and average length and it was parted on the side in a style that most guys typically wear. He had no facial hair, a visible cleft in his chin and dark piercing brown eyes that, from where I was now standing, appeared very cold and distant. All-in-all, he was probably the most attractive man I'd ever seen who wasn't in a magazine or on television.

"Sara, first I get a ‘Dear John' voice mail message that lasted less than thirty seconds. Then you never answer any of my phone calls or emails so I have no choice but to fly down here and see what in the world is going on. Now you're here standing around totally naked with . . . "

Greg looked back at me and I could feel his icy cold eyes slowly surveying my body, as if trying to size up the reason for my presence in the house with his wife. His stare was so unnerving I actually felt goose-bumps beginning to form on my arms, as I instinctively crossed them.

During his brief assessment I don't exactly know what bothered me more, his presence here in Texas, or him treating me like I was not even worthy of his attention.

" . . . with some fifteen year old girl. Okay, you wanna tell me what the hell is really going on?"

I felt myself backing up slightly, making a conscious effort to stand beyond his reach, as his tone seemed to be growing more menacing. With his intimidating size and the loudness of his voice, I was a little fearful about what might happen if he decided to get physically abusive.

Sara turned to me and put her hand gently on my cheek and caressed it lovingly, as if we were alone in some very far-away place, which would certainly have been my wish right now if I had one.

"Everything will be fine baby. You go on home and I'll see you tomorrow." Sara said, in her whisper-like tone that she was starting to use more frequently with me.

What happened next was so incredibly surprising that it nearly took my breath away. Sara took a step toward me and then leaned down and kissed me, but it was no ordinary kiss. She put her arms around me and pulled me so tightly against her body that our thighs were now touching. Then she opened her mouth and we began an intense French kiss that lasted for a least a minute. All the while my arms remained rigid against my body.

Although I quickly started to return the kiss and was even beginning to get into it in more ways than one, I could still hear her husband's volley of questions directed at Sara that contained some rather choice expletives regarding me. To the best of my memory it was the first time I had ever been called a ‘fucking dyke' and a ‘damn slut' by anyone, let alone in the same sentence.

By the time we finished the kiss I was nearly glassy-eyed once again. Sara smiled at me, kissed me one more time on the lips and then took my hand and turned to face her husband, whose face was now a whole lot redder. He had still not moved from the position he was in when we opened the door, and although there was some room to pass him if I turned sideways, he still presented a pretty imposing obstacle.

Sara released me and, stepping towards Greg until she was nearly toe to toe with him, she looked up and met his hostile gaze.

"Step aside!"

I was amazed at how unfazed Sara was over her husband's agitated state. I had no idea what kind of relationship existed between them, but it was clear she was not a person who would easily yield to anyone.

It was a highly charged moment and one that confirmed something I was already starting to suspect. I no longer had any doubt about which of us was the ‘alpha female' in our relationship. I can now see that there was absolutely no way I could rival Sara in that department, and the notion didn't seem to bother me as I once thought it might.

It was dark and Sara and I walked hand-in-hand out her front door with the porch light on and Sara totally naked. I wondered whether there was more to Sara's willingness to have sex in front of my mother then she was letting on, like maybe an exhibitionist fetish that was struggling desperately to get out. As I considered the notion I had to admit I was beginning to find it a bit of a turn-on.

I released Sara's hand and headed down the walkway and then in the direction of my house. As I did I heard her front door close behind me and I immediately felt sad for her knowing what she would probably be facing tonight with Greg.

In many ways I felt wonderfully secure in the fact that Sara was willing to end her marriage based on the strength of our new relationship, yet at the same time I felt a degree of guilt since I was probably responsible for the break-up or I was at least the catalyst. Oh well, I'm sure that I'll eventually get over it.

As I started up the porch steps to my house, my earlier feeling of dread returned. I certainly felt better about the entire situation after discussing it with Sara, but I sensed that no matter what she and I had decided tonight, the relationship between me and my mother would never again be the same. What I wasn't sure of was whether that would be a good thing . . . or a not-so-good thing.

I took a deep breath and opened the front door and walked in. The light was on in the kitchen and I heard my mother call out to me.

"Cat, is that you baby?"

I answered her as I walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. If there was another way to get to my bedroom from the front door without going past the kitchen I would have gleefully taken it on this night.

When I entered the kitchen my backpack was hanging from my shoulder and Sara's wonderful scent was all over my face. Just a couple days ago I would have been totally preoccupied with making every effort to conceal all possible evidence of my tryst with her from my mother, but now I could no longer see the point.

My mother was busy in the kitchen, but I had no idea exactly what she had going on. She glanced over and smiled at me and I smiled back, but as I did I was studying her for any evidence of change. I didn't know what to expect, but I was looking anyway.

"I didn't think you'd be home so late, Cat. I have some dinner here for you if you're hungry."

I went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of water and sat down at the kitchen table in my usual seat by the window. I glanced at the front page of the Houston Chronicle. I usually preferred to read the news on Yahoo, but today I really needed a distraction and the paper would conveniently provide one.

"Uh, sure, thanks, I am a little hungry," I said, resisting the urge to look up to meet her expectant gaze.

I knew I could head off to my room, but if she wanted to have a discussion she'd either follow me there or call me back out to the kitchen. I was beginning to realize how much resentment I was harboring towards her for putting me in this situation and altering our relationship.

I heard the microwave beep and a few moments later my mother put a plate on the table and I put the newspaper down. She had heated a grilled skinless chicken breast, about two ounces of white rice and the same amount of green beans for me. This was my dinner about three and sometimes four nights a week. I know it's fairly Spartan, but it's the only way I can maintain my weight and still eat fun foods like pizza on the weekends. Then she sat down in her seat at the head of the table directly to my left.


"So . . . late cheer practice or what?"

I still hadn't touched my food. I was reading an incredible story about Wesley Autrey, a guy who lives in New York City, who had saved someone's life when he fell onto the subway tracks by protecting him using his own body while the train passed overhead. Wow! These are the stories that SHOULD always be on the front page, I thought. I looked up at my mother.

"I'm sorry Mom, what was that?" I said.

"I said you're home late; did you have a longer practice today?"

She knew damn well why I was home late, but if she wanted to feign ignorance, I knew I could too.

"No, practice ended at the usual time. I hung out with Ariana for a while and after she dropped me off I went to Sara's until just a few minutes ago."

Well, I knew where my mother wanted the conversation to eventually go and I was glad to oblige her by mentioning Sara's name. She looked at me for a moment and I could tell she was considering unleashing all the things she had been thinking about that afternoon.

I put the fork down and slid the plate off to the side. Hell, I hadn't eaten all day anyway, so it was no big deal to miss one more meal. I folded my arms and laid them on the table, and looked at her and waited for her to start.

"Oh . . . at Sara's, huh? I was over there earlier and she showed me the house. Everything seems to fit very well, she really did a nice job setting it up."

I smiled. "I'd like to think that WE did a nice job setting it up. I helped her place every piece of furniture and hang every picture. I even helped her paint the master bedroom and bathroom."

My mother furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry Cat, I knew how much you had helped her. I didn't mean to minimize your efforts over there the entire weekend."

I took another sip of water. I knew I was getting pouty and even I hated it when I started acting out.

"Sorry Mom, I guess it's not really a big deal."

Impenetrable silence existed between us for another minute or two, as we just held eye contact.

"So then . . . you wanna tell me how you and Sara got involved?"

I continued to watch my mother, while I considered her question. It felt terribly odd to me to be at this juncture with her. Here was someone I knew and trusted my entire life and all that seemed to be changing. It was almost as if she were now the enemy. I thought about her question and the different ways I could probably respond. Then the only possible answer suddenly came to me.

"Mom, do you remember when you first met Daddy and decided you wanted to marry him?"

My question surprised her, yet it put an immediate smile on her face. I could tell she was combing her memory banks for every wonderful image she held of my father.

"Oh yes, Cat, I certainly do. We had only gone out two times, and I suddenly realized that I missed him terribly when we were apart, and I felt so wonderful whenever we were finally together. I just knew right away that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him."

It was exactly the answer that I expected, but since I heard the story countless times before I knew it was a loaded question. I reached over and took my mother's hand in mine and she looked into my probing eyes.

"Mom, I know it's only been a few days, but that's EXACTLY how it is between Sara and me."

I felt my mother take hold of my hand and begin to squeeze it. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, but I could tell she felt a true measure of happiness for my situation.

"I . . . I had no idea, Cat. It just seems that I've learned so much about you over the past couple days. Sometimes it makes me wonder whether I've ever really known you at all."

I smiled at her observation and although I thought it summed up our position rather well during those days, I didn't think it would really help matters now if I agreed with her.

"Not necessarily, Mom. I think you've always known me better than anyone else. It's just . . . well, now I think it's just a little more complicated. I hope you can understand why I thought it best never to talk to you about my . . ."

The words stuck in my throat for a moment, but I had an innate sense that our ‘new' relationship would depend entirely on how well or how badly this conversation would go. If I got hung-up talking about it, I certainly couldn't expect my mother to handle it any better.

" . . . about my sexual orientation. The problem is, there was just never the right time to sit down with you and have such a conversation. If Sara didn't move in next-door and if we didn't . . . if we didn't meet each other, there would still not have been any compelling reason for me to tell you what I did."

My mother seemed to consider that statement for a long moment before responding.

"And Sara IS the compelling reason now to share such information with me at this time?"

I smiled and felt my eyes tear up, but they were tears of absolute joy and adoration.

"Oh YES mother, yes she is. What you witnessed the other night, although certainly regrettable from our perspective - and I apologize for our indiscretion - was not just a moment of mere infatuation or raging hormones. I love her with every breath in my body, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Now I had to take a minute to compose myself, since I continued to get all teary-eyed thinking about the actual depth of my feelings for Sara. This love stuff was scary.

"It was important that you first knew I was gay and the next step would have been to eventually tell you that Sara and I were involved. We discussed this and we did not want to overwhelm you with all that information at once. You needed to know about our relationship though, so you would understand why I'll be spending so much time with her."

"But Cat, you're so young . . . you're still a baby."

I smiled and then laughed aloud, realizing my mother was merely telling me how she'll probably always see me.

"And I'll always be YOUR baby, Mom. But now it's time for you to share me with someone else. Besides, try and be totally honest here. If I came home and told you that I just met a twenty-nine year old guy who was an attorney, and that after I graduated from high school we were going to marry, you might have been a little concerned at the age difference, but you would have been so happy for me. C'mon Mom, admit I'm probably right."

She seemed to think about my question and honestly consider it for a moment. I never really expected her to respond, but I was glad when she finally did.

"Okay, okay . . . I admit that you're probably right."

I gently pulled my hand back and then took my mother's hand in mine and squeezed it tightly. "Thanks for the honesty, Mom. I really needed to hear that from you right now."

We stared at each other for a moment and for the first time in a long while I thought that maybe, just maybe, we might survive this.

"I really DO like Sara," she began. "She appears to be an incredibly bright person and she's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen."

I smiled at my Mom and then I laughed aloud. She was trying so hard and I really appreciated her effort.

"What's so funny Cat? I was being totally serious."

I stopped laughing and continued to smile at her. "I know you're being serious, Mom. I was actually laughing because that was nearly the very same thing Sara said about you, when you two first met."

"She said that really . . . about me?"

"Of course she did. That's usually the way most people describe you, Mom."

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