Daycare Kitchen

Hi! My name's Ellie. I used to live pretty wild and stupid, but then I had a baby and I decided to try and be smarter. Inside, though, I'm still as impulsive and hungry as ever. Sometimes, to help myself work through the drive without acting out, I sit down to write about it.

I wanna talk about Renee today.

So you get the picture, I'm eighteen with long dark hair and brown eyes that shift between chestnut and mahogany depending on the light. I'm in good shape, but I'm not an athlete or a model. I work hard to keep my curves fit and think I do my 36C breasts and 34-inch hips justice. I wear glasses and a nose-stud, and I almost always dress to show off cleavage.

Renee's in her early twenties. I think she's a college student, probably a junior or a senior. I don't know much about her except that she works at a local daycare and redefined my understanding of beauty.

It's embarrassing, but I can't stop looking at her. From the very first day I saw her when I was dropping my son off at the daycare, I kept stealing little glances her way. I felt obvious and silly, but I couldn't help it. I'm bi, so I'm no stranger to being attracted to girls but Renee was different.

It's not that Renee is attractive.

It's that she's utterly beautiful.

I've never understood what an elegant curve was, at least not until I saw Renee. Everything about her seems to embody elegance, grace, and shapeliness. Her entire body is exquisitely formed, like a piece of art that compells admiration. A little taller than my own 5'3", her figure seems to have been poured from glass. Her dimensions are very like my own, but flow together so that her body seems musical.

And her face.

Pretty blue eyes and perky lips, a proud nose and playful ears, crowned by soft hair in all shades of blonde. But it is the shape of her face that drives me mad. The very line of her jaw and sculpting of her cheeks. It has the same elegant curve as the rest of her body. I have never seen anything like it before.

It literally takes my breath away.

A friend of mine once told me that a sign of a truly great piece of music was that whatever arrangement you had, it sounded amazing. She's like that. From her hair to her clothes, it doesn't matter what style she's in -- casual, hippie, funky, preppy -- she looks amazing.

Today she's all business. She's got her blonde hair bulled back in the tightest, smoothest bun I've ever seen. Her makeup is a little heavier than normal, making her blue eyes seem bright and airy. She's wearing tight burgundy pants that cling to her curves, so tantalizing it's hard not to reach out and touch. Her top is white and tight to the swells on her chest, but high-throated so she shows no cleavage. Over that she's slung an open grey jacket.

I want her so bad.

I don't even know if she likes girls.

The other teacher in her room is a guy, Brad. He does like girls. He likes me, in fact. I see him checking me out all the time, a lot like I check Renee out. Brad's in his early thirties, tall and in good shape from running regularly.

In my mind, he could be a satisfying path to a more satisfying end.

It would go something like this...

I stop by the daycare during nap time. It's cold outside and I'm wearing tight jeans and a white top, but I leave my coat in the car. If my breasts get a little cold on the way in, that's only going to help.

Inside, I look for Brad. He's easy to spot. He's the guy with his eyes locked on my chest.

I give him a little smile that he can't see since he's not looking at my face, and I nod my head towards the kitchen. I walk that direction, letting my arms swing casually by my side and my hips sway with easy confidence. I look back back over my shoulder and see that he's admiring that sway. I glance at Renee, and see that she's watching him.

I smile, and go into the kitchen, shutting the door behind me. I lean against a counter and smile, holding myself so that my breasts are easy for him to find when he enters.

Only a moment later he's coming through the door, and he immediately sees them.

"Do you need something, Miss Laturne?" he asks my cleavage.

I bite my lip and nod slowly. "Badly."

"What's that, Miss Laturne?" He's still looking at my chest.

Nap time is a short window. I can't afford to play a slow, subtle game. This is all about impulse, and getting what I want. I lick my thumb and run it from my lips, down my chin, down my throat, down between my breasts, down my my belly, and coming to rest between my legs. Not subtle. "Call me Ellie."

Brad locks the door and comes up to me.

I smile, my big brown eyes sparkling behind my glasses. I smile, my lips parted just enough to show a bit of teeth and tongue.

Brad's not thinking. He's reacting to his own dream come true. He places his hands on my hips and kisses me aggressively, taking my lower lip into his mouth and sliding his tongue along the top of mine. I kiss him back. It's wet and active, and I put my hands on his strong shoulders. He's a good kisser, if a bit overpowering -- but that's what kissing a man should be like most of the time.

I guide one of his hands up to my left breast, and the other around my thigh until it's resting between my legs. Both hands are immediately responsive, groping and pawing. He has no precision or strategy, but I give him points for passion.

My hand finds its way to what is a steadily growing lump in the crotch of his khakis. A couple rubs and a squeeze and he's all mine.

He bites my lip, not too hard, and his left hand slides from my tit to my waist, started to wiggle up under my shirt back toward the breast it left.

I press his other hand deeply into my crotch with my own hand and moan into the kiss.

"I've wanted you so long, Ellie," he pants.

His fingertips reach my bra and slide up under. I pull his mouth from mine, down to my cleavage. I purr. His kisses are hungry. He leaves several hickies. I feel drenched in saliva. His fingers squeeze and twist my nipple.

"Will you do me?" I beg, groping at his manhood.

"God yes."

"Right here."

"God yes."

"Right now."

"God yes." He lifts the hand that's at my crotch and starts to slide it down my jeans.

I grab his wrist and stop him. "I want you, Brad," I tell him. And then I add, "But I want Renee more."

Suddenly he's confused, but his mouth and his hands are still on my body.

I continue, "She likes you doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"A lot."

"Yes."

"She would do anything to get a chance at you."

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm not into blondes."

I help his hand down my pants, just enough to dip into my wetness and then I raise it up and taste myself on his fingers. "I'm all yours if you get her to first be all mine."

"What, but --"

"You know she'll do it for you."

"But --"

"Renee's tongue has to blaze the trail for you, or we're done." I gently push his face from my cleavage, a move which we both regret, but which is necessary for me to implement my strategy.

His erection is obvious in his pants, and his face is read, but he says, "I'll see what he can do."

What he can do is what I wanted. When he returns with Renee, she looks confused. Brad slides up behind her after shutting the door, and pressing his hardon against her backside and kisses her throat from behind. She melts into the embrace, almost forgetting about my presence.

"There's something I need you to do for me," he says. "If you do it, I'll screw you so hard you'll forget I was ever just a fantasy."

Renee squirms against him. "What is it?"

Brad's eyes meet might mine, and I step forward, smiling and staring at her with eyes that I know she can read hunger in. She's not sure what's going on, but she's not comfortable. Her beautiful eyes are wide. Her porcelain cheeks are flushed pink.

"You are," I say to her, my voice and low and breathy as it can get, "the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." There's no mistaking the sincerity in my voice. "In life, in pictures, in movies. In paints, in statues. You are more beautiful than any of them."

Renee blushes deeply and she looks away from me. "Thanks," she squeaks. She likes the words, but wishes they weren't coming from another girl.

I touch her face with the face of my hand. It's soft and delicate. More so even than I had imagined. We both gasp.

I feel drawn in by the touch.

She withdraws from it.

With something between adoration and admiration, something that might have been just shy of worshipful, I run my hands gently down the sides of her body, tracing the flow of her perfect feminine curves as Brad held her for me. When my hands reach her hips, I sink to my knees and look up at her through my glasses. She's still uncomfortable. She liked the attention. She wishes it were from Brad, not me.

I run my hands slowly down her sculpted legs. Brad kisses her throat, caresses her breasts, and grinds against her backside.

My hands glide up inside her legs until they both meet against her heat.

Brad slips away from behind her. I press her against the shut door. Both hands very softly caress her mound through her slacks and I bend towards it, smelling her through the clothes.

"I'm not gay," she says.

My lips part and I run my tongue up the fold of her zipper.

"I'm not queer," she says.

I mouth her mound and draw the zipper down.

"I'm not a lesbian," she says.

I undo the button at the top and inhale deeply. She even smells beautiful.

"I'm no dyke," she says.

I tug her hands below her hips and kiss her panties, where they are damp.

"But don't stop now," she says, her eyes on Brad and her hands buried in my hair.

I moan and press my tongue hard against the center of her dampness. She mimics my moan. I suck hard,straining to get her juices through the cotton. I whisper, "You taste beautiful, too."

She spreads her legs a little and drops a little lower, angling herself at my face. "Just get me off," she begs in a soft whimper.

My hands slide around her hips to grasp hold of her perfect backside. My fingers curl up, nails biting into her soft, muscled flesh. I nibble and gnaw at her through her panties.

Her legs jerk with an unexpected spasm of early pleasure, and her fingers curl so tightly in my hair it hurts my scalp. I look up and I see that her eyes are on me now, not on Brad.

I pull her panties down with due reverence, whispering hushed compliments of her beauty and the allure of her scent Her arousal is plain, and whether she's comfortable or not, she's neither resisting nor objecting.. I rake my teeth through her tight curls and then use my tongue tongue to expose her red button. I alternate sucking and slurping, toying with her clit and stabbing at her slit.

H back pressed into the door, Renee lifts one leg over my shoulder, then the other, wrapping herself tightly around me so that I and the wall are her only support.

She starts begging like a desperate little girl. "Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum, make me cum."

I hate being cruel, but I know there's only one way I'm going to feel this beautiful girl's mouth on my pussy. I start unbuckling my belt and my pants, and then I lower her to the floor, and wriggle free. Brad doesn't know what I'm doing, but he wants to see me naked, so he eagerly helps. As soon as I'm as naked from the waist down as Renee is, I swing into a 69 position, pressing myself against her face.

As my own mouth drives her to delirious heights, Renee is overpowering by the natural instinct to kiss and bite and suck, and the only option available to her is my hot, slick pussy. She chokes and gags on the taste of woman, her lips and tongue feel as pretty as they look. Cool and soft, they possess surprising strength, too. She bites, but not too hard. Just hard enough.

I feel like I'm drowning in our combined wetness.

I begin to suffocate between her thighs as she wraps her legs around my head. I hump and grind down against her face, my bush rubbing softly on her gentle face.

Suddenly I feel pressure at my entrance, and I cry out as Brad's cock enters me right where Renee's mouth is working.

Brad's cock finds my g-spot quickly in my well-lubricated gash and I can't hold out long. Brad was probably masturbating before he entered me, because when I cum, he cums too, and our combined fluids gush down over Renee's pretty face. I suck her clit between tongue and teeth and tug gently. She cums, too.

Exhausted and spent, Brad slumps against the door. Renee and I roll apart. The makeup on her face is ruined, but she's still beautiful. I tell her so.

The blonde is beyond words, but her right hand is toying idly between her legs. "I'm not gay," she says at last.

I lean in, my hand resting on her thigh, and lick cum from her pretty face, the taste of Brad's and my pleasure.

"I'm not gay," she says again, but her fingers are more active between her legs.

I slide one arm around her waist and start to tug up her top to access her breasts.

Just then there's a knock at the door and a voice says, "Wrap up your meeting, nap time is just about over."

As Brad pulls his pants back on, my fingers slide inside Renee's slick pussy, two daggers seeking the ribbed flesh under her cervix. Her own fingers play with her clit. Her face gets red. Her breathing becomes labored.

A few short but intense minutes later, she cums again. Her eyes are wide, her whole body sweating and flushed. I take a dish towel and carefully, adoringly wipe her clean. And I bend in, pressing my lips gently against hers.

"Maybe," Renee says, our open eyes meeting during the kiss, "I'm bi."