All the Young Girls Love Laura Pt. 03

"Oh god," I muttered. I was losing the sense of detachment that I'd always been able to depend on when I was with a client and we both fed each other's need. I feared we might spiral each other deeper and deeper into passion, with no brakes at all, no anchor to keep me from drowning in my lust for Melissa.

But, to my regret, I let that little voice in the back of my head go unheeded. "Let her go...her life, not yours...she has a future, you don't." Instead I continued loving her, my only concession that I would pretend that I was loving her as her husband might.

I kissed the round softness of her breasts - small and tender, a young girl's body, so different from the mature women who were my stock in trade. She moaned and shivered. She was cumming now, from just my touch, and I didn't care that I might be proselytizing through my actions for the lifestyle that I had chosen - loving women, adoring women, pleasing girls, spending my life next to the warm, soft and passionate embrace of females, not men.

I hated myself for it, but I couldn't stop myself either.

Her stomach was a flat, smooth plain of manna, a pleasant land of milk and honey as I made my way to paradise down below. Her stomach quavered as I licked, kissed, and tongued her, her navel a pleasant diversion and a foreshadowing of her even more exciting clefts that nothing could have kept me from.

Finally, I hooked my fingers through the waistband of her white lace panties, so virginal and sweet, and slipped them down her slim legs to her feet, then off, leaving her masterpiece of a feminine body entirely uncovered and exposed to my hungry eyes and touch.

Then I lowered my face to her skin, smooth and radiating a kind of heat at her surface, like the flat desert floor in the eyes of a lost traveler. Her image shimmered, like a mirage, or perhaps that was just the effect of the wetness in my eyes, her sweet loveliness and sexuality overwhelming me.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned as my lips felt the soft curls of her neatly trimmed and manicured pubic bush, soft brown locks of her feminine flower's blooming, a sweet, fragrant rose signaling that she was woman, all woman and that she desired celebration of that fact. I toyed with her curls, using my tongue to twirl them as a girl might toy with her 'do around a finger. Then I secured a few hairs between my teeth and pulled gently, then moved a few inches, tugging here and there. The effect on her was profound.

"Ow...ohhh," she began, then her hips began their sweet rotation again, signaling that the pleasure of the slight pain was traveling from mons to brain to hips, round and round, her senses opening to girl on girl pleasure.

"Her man could easily do that," I justified to myself. But I knew that he wouldn't, or if he did initially he wouldn't keep it up for long. Men rarely have the necessary interest in exploring the limits of a woman's erotic nature.

Still, that's what I told myself and what I used to justify everything that I did with her then, it was all to make her a "better wife."

Was it moral? I don't know. Do I care? I don't know.

Did I love her? Yes...yes I did, then.

For a brief instant I had a...I guess a vision, a vision of myself in a slattern's filthy dress at some..some amazingly sumptuous ball, the music playing all around, people all dressed splendidly, looking curiously at me. Then a hush fell over the people, the music quieted, and She appeared...at the top of these wide, wide marble steps, on the arm of some handsome man, a prince I suppose.

She just floated down those stairs - I swear, I don't think her delicate little feet ever touched stone, just silk slippers floating along an inch or two above the rest of us. She mingled and met, nodding at fine gentlemen, accepting the air kisses of fine ladies on either cheek, until she saw me.

And I swear to you...she dropped the glass of brandy that someone had handed her along the way, the crystal shattering into a million billion fragments that just skated across that fine ballroom floor. And she ran - she RAN to me and took me in her arms and said, "I've been waiting for you all of my life, my knight in shining armor."

And we both laughed, because of course, I wasn't in shining armor at all, nor in that filthy rag, but suddenly in a fine dress to rival hers. No, not to rival - to complement, for together we made something greater than the sum of our separate parts.

And I wasn't a knight at all. But a fine lady that she could love, and she did, and I did, and we lived happily ever after.

All that happened in an instant. I didn't know what to make of it, but I thought it might augur that Melissa and I could be something special, and maybe I had to make her my highest priority in life if I ever wanted happiness, real happiness, for myself.

I blame myself for everything that happened after that moment. If I hadn't allowed myself to become insane with lust, desire, need...and worst of all, love for her, none of what transpired and the damage it caused would have happened.

But hindsight is always perfect, isn't it? All I can do here is relate to you what happened, and you can judge me as I should be.

I was there, my mouth inches from her pussy - her sweet, moist and warm sexual center, my mouth salivating merely from the hot fragrance of her desire, her excitement. I looked up at her beautiful, perfect face, still half covered with the blackout mask.

I breathed lightly across her clitoris, almost glowing wetly as her clitoral hood receded, leaving her naked, defenseless. Farther on I could see her tiny nipples hard and stiff. She was like a birthday balloon, happy and joyous, bright and ready to bring joy, and I was filling her more and more and more - not with air, but with my own randy mania - unable to stop, even if she would burst, just for my own sexual fulfillment.

"I'm going to please you now," I whispered, knowing that she could hear me, barely, but hoping that the true monstrousness of my selfish desire would evade her consciousness.

"Yes," she whispered back. "Oh yes."

Her body completely relaxed then, muscles growing limp, as a soldier anticipating the blast of an artillery shell must do, his defenses useless, her ability to stop me gone.

I brought my tongue to her labia, the wet tip of it caressing up her moist ridge there, along one side, avoiding her clit, then down the other, her sweet, hot cream racing before me as my tongue scraped a veritable deluge of liquid before it, the flow clear but copious racing between her legs down over her perineum to her anus.

"Oh...so good," she groaned. "So...good."

I slipped my tongue into her slit, tightly virginal and almost closed, and her legs spread in what I saw simultaneously as a butterfly spreading her wings for first flight as well as a lewd invitation to take her mercilessly, the profound loss of her maidenhead to another woman mingling with a witches' brew of submission, lust and depravity.

She was that two-headed creature at that moment - sweet, innocent babe and depraved harlot, and surely I had it in my power to turn away and leave her chaste for the man that she would wed soon. It was for certain that she had no choice in the matter and I accept all blame when her white angel's wings were soiled by my evil nature.

There was no going back, I decided fatefully. I licked inside her, my tongue penetrating her roughly, a small adept cock impregnating her with my saliva.

"Umm, fuck fuck," she moaned, her head turning from side to side, her hands going to her breasts, to twist and massage them, fingers teasing nipples of diamond hardness. "God, god god I'm cumming," she whispered.

Her hips rose, then fell, then rose again, as if she strove to impale herself deeper on my tongue, my female cock. I rode with it, it was a reaction that I'd had from clients and I could use her movement to make her pleasure even greater, which is exactly what happened when she realized that her movements were increasing the friction of my rough tongue against and over her tender vaginal walls.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" she nearly screamed as she began to lose what little control over herself she might have possessed at that late moment. Her hips shook savagely, her thighs trembled uncontrollably, and she hyperventilated as she tried to inhale, exhale and gulp the self-generated saliva rapidly filling her mouth.

She began sobbing as she came, over and over, her being physically in chaos, her mind and soul on some other plane, seeing what only she could know. This went on for perhaps ten minutes, her body slowly, slowly returning to earth, to the world, from the bliss to which it had disappeared, and I held her in my arms as she quivered, then grew limp.

The blackout mask remained on, and I pretended that it would keep the illusion alive in her mind that she was with her man as he pleased her. But I knew, knew, that was a lie.

And I didn't care. I wanted to be the one that made her the happiest person on earth.

It's a funny thing about women. Our spiritual nature will make us fall in love with the ugliest creatures, the basest of men or women, and it will have nothing to do with sex or physical pleasure, but everything to do with the relationship itself, with some almost imperceptible aspect of the loved one that no one else can see.

But I had been misled through my occupation into thinking it was only sex, only lust, only physical pleasure that could bind two people. It was a mistake, and a hard lesson that I would come to learn very soon.

"That was...wonderful," Melissa whispered in my ear, her tongue and lips caressing the folds and crenulations there, her breath warm and tickling me. My selfish pride swelled inside me, even as the deadly slope in front of me steepened. My fall was soon to come.

"There's better," I whispered to my sweetness, Melissa, kissing her on the tip of her snub nose. She wrinkled that lovely appendage and giggled.

"I don't think I could stand it," she whispered shyly.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop," I said confidently, kissing her lips, warm and soft, her tongue attempting a breach of my mouth when I broke our kiss, knowing that I would soon return for more, slipping back down her body, slim, soft and warm, willing and eager to learn.

I returned to the scene of my victory, her pussy a deeper red, glistening with her juices, clear and as fragrant as a rose. Her clitoris seemed so large, a sweet grape to be nibbled, though so gently. I kissed her mons, over and over, again and again, staying away from her clit and labia until I could judge by her reactions it was safe to do so.

I returned to licking and lapping at her labia, lightly and softly at first, then harder as I felt her adjust to the sensation. Her hips fell back into their rocking motion, a woman reflexively maximizing the selfish pleasure granted her by her lover.

Her hands fell to my hair, and at that point I told myself that I wished I had gotten a boy cut, short and tight, so that Melissa might better imagine that I was Jason lapping at her cunt. In reality, of course, I rejoiced that Melissa could not possibly mistake the face at her pussy for that of any boy, but rather the face of the woman who desired Melissa more than life itself.

She giggled. "Where's your hair...oh...I like it," she cooed as she caressed my tight scalp, then felt my mane of hair where it was gathered behind me.

"I think I'd adore you with short hair," she murmured.

"Of course you would, I'm your husband," I replied.

I hoped that would re-conjure in her mind the image of Jason lying on her, loving her. I also hoped that she was thinking no such thing, that she was begging me, Laura, to cut my hair and fuck her like a man.

Can a person hold two such conflicting thoughts at once? Of course we can. The real question is, can we live with the consequences?

The lies we tell ourselves are far worse than the ones we tell our enemies.

As her fingers curled and twirled, cavorted in the playground of my hair, my tongue and lips caressed her labia, but this time every touch of my mouth on her essence was directing her attentions to her center, her clit.

I brought my hands into play, willing conspirators in my plan. My right hand gently caressed the opening to her pussy, pink flesh stroked with fingertip, as my left hand snaked under her to nestle within the hot valley of her ass, my fingertip resting on the puckered ring of her anal sphincter.

"Oh what?" she asked confusedly, but lapsed into moans as my tongue flicked like a snake's microns away from the swelling bud of her clit. "Oh!" she responded, her question forgotten.

My tongue circled her clitoris, like Indians circling the settlers' wagons in a long ago western movie, moving inexorably closer but never quite touching, as two fingers of my right hand slowly, stealthily slipped inside her flooded cavern, the entrance simple and easy, so slick and distracted as she was.

And on a third front, a single digit of my left hand slowly wrapped itself in her own cream that had been running down there between her legs, and pushed into the tight guarded passage that she'd never seen and certainly wouldn't have consented anyone else to ever see. Just as she began to give voice to an objection on that front - or rather, rear - all forces attacked.

"Umm, I don't think-" she began, to say the words that she would never again utter to a lover.

My conspiratorial fingers and tongue all attacked, tongue launching over her clit once, then circling tightly, scraping that little pleasure plug on all sides unceasingly, harder and harder, then two fingers twisting inside her, fucking her like a cock, but pausing to caress her vaginal wall behind her clitoris, the location of her G spot, over and over.

Finally, my slick and wet left finger simply fucked into her, past her protesting anal sphincter, and slowly began immediately pulling out, the unexpected intrusion turning into emptiness, an emptiness that stimulated her desire for more.

"No, don't pull out," she moaned. "And oh god, what are you doing to me? Oh fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck, god do me, fuck me, shit I'm cumming oh fuck oh oh yes yes yessss!"

Honestly, her body began flopping on the bed almost like a fish, her tremors no greater than her previous cum, but going on and on until she was bathed in sweat, tiny droplets on her arms and between her breasts forming rivulets that dripped down her sides wetting my sheets and mattress. I would have gladly drunk that sweat, but it was all I could do to crawl up her quivering body and again, just hold her to me.

She clung to me, her little fists grabbing the flannel shirt, holding me close, our breasts mashed together, her sweat soaking into my clothes.

"I love you, love you, love you," she crooned, her mouth seeking out mine, her lips finding mine, her soft warmth against my own warm softness. Her breathing was ragged, her heartbeat racing. The heat coming off her was incredible, a molten form that a vaguely considered might consume me, a fate I would welcome.

"Fuck me...fuck me...Jason," she said. "You can do that, right?" Her hand caressed my jeans clad butt, but not yet going to my groin.

"Yes...yeah," I responded, my own breath ragged. "Just let me put on a rubber, okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Don't want to get me pregnant the first time we make love...sweetheart."

I slipped off the bed. Of course my bedside tables hold a vast repertoire of toys, including all manner of dildos. I found a strapless dildo, a Feeldoe Slim in flesh color and slipped it inside me. They come in all sorts of colors, but I was pretending to be Jason, who probably doesn't have a bright blue cock. Nor would I use the vibrator, as Jason probably didn't come with that feature either. Designed to fit one end inside a vagina, the exterior portion is positioned as an erect cock, so that I could fuck Melissa like Jason would.

Was I going too far in simulating her husband to be? Sister, I went over that line long ago. However this turned out, I figured that I'd be lucky if I didn't both ruin a marriage and never get another payment from her mother.

I kept the shirt on, and the jeans pushed down to my ankles. I guess I thought that she could imagine we were having a quickie in the car or something, I don't know, I was winging this part. No self respecting lesbian or whore would do what I was doing and lie to herself that she was doing it to keep a girl straight. It was wrong, but I had decided to convert Melissa to a lesbian, and Jason could go fuck himself.

He'd never done anything to wrong or hurt me - as far as I knew, he was a nice guy. But he was now a rival for the woman I loved.

Yes, loved. I had no idea how I was going to square this circle...somehow justify to myself and others why I would try to steal away a bride just a few weeks from her wedding. Call it a mania, an obsession, a compulsion...

I called it love.

"I'm back, sweetie," I said. Instinctively, she spread her legs wider to allow me to kneel between them, my cock threatening her as it stood erect between my legs. I lowered myself, my shirt-covered breasts resting lightly on hers, the rough flannel rubbing her already stiff nipples.

Bearing most of my body weight on my knees and elbows, I brought my face to hers. Her breathing was rapid. She was nervous, but excited.

"Be gentle," she whispered in my ear, her cheek soft against mine. "I've never had anyone up inside there."

"I will be," I whispered back, making no effort to disguise my voice. "I love you," the words that I could only say inwardly, inside my head.

"I love you, too," I imagined that she murmured, her lips brushing my cheek warmly, as she desperately sought out my mouth. We kissed then, and it was like nothing I had ever felt before. I felt as though we were joined at that one point, our lips and tongues making us one person.

Then I used my right hand to position the head of my stiff cock inside the small, wet opening of her pussy. Melissa groaned, and redoubled the passion that she was expressing through her kiss. Her arms were around my back, clutching, then caressing, then clutching again, over and over.

I slowly thrust inside her, my silicon cock slipping inexorably inside her opening, her wetness dripping from her, her excitement and passion encouraging me.

"Ohhh," she whined, her voice rising. Most of the women that I fucked were well used to having something in their cunts, as they were married - to men - and bored with the piece of sausage so unimaginatively thrust inside them every Tuesday night, or Saturday night - or whenever their stale exercise in being their husband's masturbation toy was scheduled.

I knew better than to lamely ask if I was hurting her. Of course I was, or at least causing discomfort. You try having something hard shoved into one of your openings. The idea was to try to move her past that point as quickly and smoothly as I could.

I slowed my entry, pausing, and then slipping it out a few inches, then back inside her. As she felt my hard dick slipping out her, she perversely whined again at feeling its loss.

"Nooo," she whispered, begging to be impaled again, then hissing with pleasure as she felt me filling her again.

"Yesss," she whispered, kissing my cheek wetly, signaling that she wanted us rejoined through our kisses, as well as having my penis fucking her deeply. She adjusted her hips and legs, pulling her legs up, then shyly moving first one foot around my thigh, then the other, leveraging herself against me, locking me inside her, impaling herself on my cock, moaning with building pleasure.

Then it happened. Everything changed.

Her left hand came up to her face, and she brushed the blackout mask off her face, her eyes deep seas of blackness, intent on mine.